"Can they have been told of our plan to head them off?" asks the sheriff.

At this moment the head of the procession of miners turns the corner of the road. The American Flag and the White Flag are still in the van.

The sheriff takes up a position on the side of the road. As the miners come up to him, he calls them to "halt."

"Where are you going?" he demands.

"To Harleigh," replies Metz.

"Who gave you permission to parade?"

"We are exercising our rights as freemen."

"Well, you cannot march in a body on the highways of Pennsylvania."

"Then we can break up our procession and walk individually."

"_In the direction of Hazelton_," Sheriff Marlin says, significantly. "I know what you are up to; do you think that I am going to let you cause a sympathetic strike in Harleigh because you are locked out? Not if I know myself."

When the miners come to a halt, the men in advance cl.u.s.ter about Metz and the sheriff.

Now thirty men surround the sheriff.

Some of them are, of course, in advance of him.

"Get back to Hazleton," Sheriff Marlin cries, at the same time raising his arms above his head and waving them.

He pushes his way through the crowd of miners to the edge of the road.

Off comes his hat

It is the signal which Captain Grout has been expecting.

"Company, attention!"

Two hundred Coal and Iron Police jump to their feet.

"Get back to Hazleton or I'll take you prisoners," shouts the sheriff.

But his words are lost. The miners are terror-stricken. The sight of the police, armed with deadly rifles, has made the miners insensible to every thought and impulse but that of self-preservation.

They scatter up and down the road.

"Don't let them escape to Harleigh," shouts the sheriff. Taking this as an order, the police open fire on the men who have pa.s.sed the sheriff.

Crack! crack! go the rifles.

Each shot fells a miner. They are practically at the muzzles of the weapons.

A miner rushes up the bank on the left to get out of the range of the police on that side. He is riddled by the bullets from the opposite side.

Another dives into a snow bank; it affords him no protection. "Pot that woodchuck," shouts Captain Grout to one of his men.

A bullet is sent into the hole. The miner springs to his feet; then drops dead.

The line of carnage is now stretched out for two hundred yards.

There is no return fire. So the armed police come out from cover and pursue their victims.

The police have lost all self-control. Each man is acting on his own responsibility.

Of the ten miners who run toward Harleigh, not one is spared. Three lie in the road; the snow about them tinged with their life's blood. Another is clinging with a death grip to a stunted tree, which he caught as he staggered forward, with three bullets in the back.

"Mercy! mercy!" cry several of the miners. But their wail is lost on the ears of the Coal and Iron Police. The police are there to kill, not to grant mercy.

Now a miner falls on his knees and prays to G.o.d for protection.

This att.i.tude of submission is not heeded; a bullet topples him over.

With their hands above their head, some of the men walk deliberately toward the deputies. Indians will recognize this as the sign of surrender, and will give quarter. But the deputies, with unerring aim, shoot down the voluntary captive.

It would not be so terrible if the miners were returning the fire, if they were offering any resistance. But they are absolutely unarmed.

Their mission has been to present a pet.i.tion to the miners of Harleigh.

The slaves of the South had enjoyed the right of pet.i.tion. How could these twentieth century miners antic.i.p.ate that the sheriff would ma.s.sacre them on the highway for seeking to present a pet.i.tion?

"Have you shot any one?" asks one of the deputies of his nearest companion.

"Shot any one! Well, I should think I had. I've seen four drop. Here goes a fifth."

To stand, to run, to fall to the ground, all are equally futile as means of escape. Extermination is all that will stay the fire of the police.

Sheriff Marlin and Captain Grout stand in the middle of the road. Metz, O'Connor, and Nevins, a mine foreman, are standing beside them.

O'Connor carries the white flag; Nevins the National emblem.

"Disarm those men," Marlin directs the Captain.

"Disarm them?" Captain Grout repeats, inquiringly.

"Certainly. They have sticks in their hands."

Two deputies, who have exhausted their supply of cartridges in their magazine rifles, stop reloading and rush upon Nevins. They beat him over the head with their rifle b.u.t.ts. The flag is s.n.a.t.c.hed out of his hands.

O'Connor is dealt a blow an instant later.

The subjugation of the unarmed miners is accomplished.

One by one the Coal and Iron Police return.