On the roof of the building were found a number of Winchester rifles and a quantity of ammunition.
Captain Cook, on examining one of these rifles, noticed that a quantity of sand was adhering to the barrel, and that there were signs of the rifle having been recently used. From this he naturally inferred that it was one of the weapons used by the strikers during the morning skirmish, but which had been deposited in the building after the skirmish was over.
Private Bannan, hunting around, stumbled across, in one of the rooms, a basket of lint, which seemed to indicate that the strikers were prepared for the worst.
Several times in the course of the search critical moments were experienced. Some of the lodgers objected to having their rooms searched, and it was only by a determined front, aided materially by the click of the rifle, that they unwillingly submitted.
The first building having been completely searched, the squad passed into the other buildings. Private Hayes discovered a lot of cartridges on a shelf in the rear of the saloon. He was about to confiscate them on the behalf of the state, when an outsider interfered, saying that the property belonged to him, at the same time putting his hands upon the ammunition. The cocking of Sergeant Clifford’s rifle reminded the man that his hands were needed some place else.
Private G. Claussenius taught one striker a lesson not to lay his hands on a National Guardsman with impunity. As Claussenius was passing through one of the rooms in the rear of the saloon, he was astonished to receive a shove and a command to get out of here. Turning, he was confronted by a fierce looking individual who reiterated the command to get out and made another attempt to put his command into execution. The attempt was about as far as he got. Claussenius cocked his piece, and jabbing it up against the fellow’s breast, with his finger on the trigger ready to fire instantly on the least further provocation, he ordered the man to get out of the room. The fellow never hesitated, but in a weakened voice said, “All right, don’t shoot!” and passed out of the room. The action of this individual reminds one of the following lines:
“How many cowards wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk.”
In the natural course of events Private Stealey had a somewhat similar experience. Meeting one who he took to be a striker, he ordered the man to throw up his hands, which command was obeyed with great alacrity. The man, on being searched, justified suspicion, as he was found to be armed with an ugly looking revolver. It is needless to say that he was relieved of it.