CHAPTER XIII.
I seen the feller from the telephone exchange run down the street a little ways as the first rush hit the square, and fire his pistol twice.
Then he turned and made fur an alleyway, but as he turned they let him have it.

He throwed up his arms and made one long stagger, right acrost the bar of light that streamed out of the windows, and he fell into the shadder, out of sight, jest like a scorched moth drops dead into the darkness from a torch.
Out of the middle of that bunch of riders come a big voice, yelling numbers, instead of men's names.

Then different crowds lit out in all directions--some on foot, while others held their hosses--fur they seemed to have a plan laid ahead.
And then things began to happen.

They happened so quick and with such a whirl it was all unreal to me--shots and shouts, and windows breaking as they blazed away at the store fronts all around the square--and orders and cuss-words ringing out between the noise of shooting--and those electric lights shining on them as they tossed and trampled, and showing up masked faces here and there--and pounding hoofs, and hosses scream--like humans with excitement--and spurts of flame squirted sudden out of the ring of darkness round about the open place--and a bull-dog shut up in a store somewheres howling himself hoarse--and white puffs of powder smoke like ghosts that went a-drifting by the lights--it was all unreal to me, as if I had a fever and was dreaming it.

That square was like a great big stage in front of me, and I laid in the darkness on my lumber pile and watched things like a show--not much scared because it WAS so derned unreal.
From way down along the railroad track they come a sort of blunted roar, like blasting big stumps out--and then another and another.