With a sweeping of falling and echoing hoofs the cavalrymen dashed down the principal street at breakneck speed.
Mr. Henry Beckman, who lives a few hundred yards beyond the scene of the murders, heard the firing and ran from his house to the railroad tracks.
The horsemen, using the lash and urging their horses to their highest speed, dashed into view.
“Hello,” said Beckman, “what does all that firing mean?”
Beckman was answered with an oath and told to get into his hole as quickly as possible. “If you don’t, we’ll kill you on the spot,” was the warning.
Beckman flew for life, ran through the yard and entered the house as quickly as possible.
Dr. Hal L. Johnson saw a crowd of men on foot running down the sidewalk.
He hailed them, but there was no response.
“There must have been more than one hundred men on horses,” said Mr. Beckman this morning, in telling the Journal of his wild night experience with the mob.
When the mob left, the guards, who had been held against the warehouse wall at the points of guns and pistols, turned their faces toward the scene of carnage and death.