Dale Hubbard

This kind of running fight was kept up until Everest reached the river.  Having kept off his pursuers thus far the boy started boldly for the comparative security of the opposite shore, splashing the water violently as he waded out into the stream.  The mob was getting closer all the time.  Suddenly Everest seemed to change his mind and began to retrace his steps to the shore.  Here he stood dripping wet in the tangled grasses to await the arrival of the mob bent on his destruction.  Everest had lost his hat and his wet hair stuck to his forehead.  His gun was now so hot he could hardly hold it and the last of his ammunition was in the magazine.  Eye witnesses declare his face still wore a quizzical, half bantering smile when the mob overtook him.  With the pistol held loosely in his rough hand Everest stood at bay, ready to make a last stand for his life.  Seeing him thus, and no doubt thinking his last bullet had been expended, the mob made a rush for its quarry.

“Stand back!” he shouted.  “If there are ‘bulls’ in the crowd, I’ll submit to arrest; otherwise lay off of me.”

[Illustration:  Blind Tom Lassiter

Tom Lassiter is the blind news dealer who Was kidnapped and deported out of town in June, 1919, by a gang of business men.  His stand was raided and the contents burned in the street.  He had been selling The Seattle Union Record, The Industrial Worker and Solidarity.  County attorney Allen said he couldn’t help to apprehend the criminals and would only charge them with third degree assault if they were found.  The fine would be one dollar and costs!  Lassiter is now in jail in Chehalis charged with “criminal syndicalism.”]

No attention was paid to his words.  Everest shot from the hip four times,—­then his gun stalled.  A group of soldiers started to run in his direction.  Everest was tugging at the gun with both hands.  Raising it suddenly he took careful aim and fired.  All the soldiers but one wavered and stopped.  Everest fired twice, both bullets taking effect.  Two more shots were fired almost point blank before the logger dropped his assailant at his feet.  Then he tossed away the empty gun and the mob surged upon him.

The legionaire who had been shot was Dale Hubbard, a nephew of F.B.  Hubbard, the lumber baron.  He was a strong, brave and misguided young man—­worthy of a nobler death.

“Let’s Finish the Job!”

Everest attempted a fight with his fists but was overpowered and severely beaten.  A number of men clamoured for immediate lynching, but saner council prevailed for the time and he was dragged through the streets towards the city jail.  When the mob was half a block from this place the “hot heads” made another attempt to cheat the state executioner.  A wave of fury seemed here to sweep the crowd.  Men fought with one another for a chance to strike, kick or spit in the face of their victim.  It was