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And the damsel cried aloud, and hasted into the ship, and so she went with the wind roaring and yelling that it seemed all the water burned after her. Then Sir Perceval made great sorrow, and called himself a wretch, saying, "How nigh was I lost!" Then he took his arms, and departed thence.
We reached Venice at an unearthly hour of a March morning and the first thing I knew of it somebody was shouting, "Venezia!" and I was startled from a sound sleep, and porters were scrambling for our bags, and we were stumbling after them, up a long platform, between a crowd of men in hotel caps yelling: "Danieli!"
They ran to and fro, waving and shouting. Once more the buffaloes stopped and looked. Lazy-man and his wife now ran at them, throwing their blankets in the air, and yelling more wildly than ever. The scared buffaloes turned about again. They were so badly frightened this time that they ran out on the ice on the lake. The ice was as smooth as glass. The buffaloes could not stand up on it.
Men darted hither and thither, yelling shrilly; cows—born apparently to be leaders—broke from the bunches to which they had been assigned and started at a clumsy run, followed by kindred susceptible to example.
But it was not in such scenes as these, or even in the deep and miry road, that Will Marks found the chief obstacles to his progress. There were distant fires, where the poor wood and plaster tenements wasted fiercely, and whither crowds made their way, clamouring eagerly for plunder, beating down all who came within their reach, and yelling like devils let loose.
We could not now complain of want of sport, as all the animals appeared to be concentrated in this jungle; another sudden yelling of the beaters was quickly followed by a rush of at least twenty pigs across Berry's glade, and once again his rifle spoke with both barrels in quick succession.
Anticipating that our attack would be followed up, we managed to delay our guards as much as possible, and had gone not more than a hundred yards when a yelling in the road proclaimed that the curtain had risen on the second scene of our little drama. Custer had ordered Birge to charge. Birge's advance put the confederates to flight, what there were left of them.
From what can be gathered, their battles were not very serious affairs. There was more yelling and dancing and posing than bloodshed. The braves of a tribe would get ready for battle by painting themselves with red, yellow, and white clay in fantastic patterns. They would then hold war-dances in the presence of the enemy; that, and the exchange of dreadful threats, would often conclude a campaign.
The old woman came out of her front door, dragging a chair, on which she coolly seated herself on the tiny stoop at the top of the steps. In the hands of the special police were clubs. The Pinkertons carried no visible weapons. The strikers, urging on from behind, seemed content with yelling their rage and threats, and it remained for the children to precipitate the conflict.
I saw the Indian on foot making for some sage brush near by and sang out to a man named Saunders, who was on a fine grey horse, to run that Indian down, which he did, killing him the second shot, so he said afterwards. About this time I saw Jim coming, with six or eight men following him closely. Then we all commenced yelling at the top of our voices, which excited the Indians still more.
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