The Oklahoma Rush

WITH the sharp crack of a carbine in the hands of a sergeant of the Third Cavalry, followed by almost simultaneous reports from the weapons of the other soldiers stationed all along the line between Kansas and the Indian country, the greatest race ever seen in the world began to-day. It was on a racetrack 100 miles wide, with a free field, and with a principality for the stake. From the rear of a special train filled with Santa Fe officials, the start from the south end of the Chilocco reservation was seen to better advantage than from anywhere else along the whole line. From this point the racers had three miles the start of all others. Directly south of this line were the towns along the Santa Fe, which were the objective points for so many of the boomers. For a mile in the rear of the line, there was presented what appeared like a fine hedge fence, extending as far as the eye could reach along the prairie in both directions. But as the observer approached the fence it changed into a living wall.

Men and horses seemed in almost inextricable confusion until the line itself was reached, and then it was seen that every man, woman and horse had an allotted place and was kept in it by a law stronger than any act on the statute books—the compulsion exercised by a great body of free Americans, who were determined to have things just and right. The line was probably straighter than any that was ever formed by the starters on a race-course. The horsemen and bicycle-riders were to the front, while the buggies and the lighter wagons were in the second row, with heavy teams close in the rear. The shot sounded, and away they went, with horses rearing and pitching, and one unfortunate boomer striking the ground before the line had fairly been broken. Within three hundred yards the first horse was down, and died after that short effort. But the rider was equal to the occasion, and immediately stuck his stake into the ground, and made his claim to a quarter section of the finest farming land in the Strip.

It was perhaps the maddest rush ever made. No historic charge in battle could equal this charge of free American people for homes. While courtesy had marked the treatment of women in the lines for many days, when it came to this race they were left to take care of themselves. Only one was fortunate enough and plucky enough to reach the desired goal ahead of nearly all her competitors. This was Miss Mabel Gentry, of Thayer, Neosho County, Kan., who rode a fiery little black pony at the full jump for the seven miles from the line to the town site of Kildare, reaching that point in seventeen minutes. It was a terrible drive from start to finish, but the girl and her horse reached the town. In the race the bicycle-riders were left far behind. The crispy grass of the prairie worked to their disadvantage. The men and women with buggies were also outdistanced and reached the town site after the best lots had been taken.

Thousands were disappointed after all the lots had been taken, and thousands went right on through the district without stopping. That the land was totally inadequate to the demand was made evident this evening, when the northbound train went through. Every train was almost as heavily loaded as when it came in this morning, and thousands of persons who returned brought tales of as many more persons wandering around aimlessly all over the Strip, looking for what was not there. The station platforms all along the line were crowded with people who had rushed in and who were now hoping for a chance to rush out. The opening is over, the Indian land is given away, and still there are thousands of men and women in this part of the country without homes.

WHEN at noon to-day the bars that have so long enclosed 6,000,000 acres of public land were let down, more than 100,000 men and women joined in the mad rush for land. Men who had the fastest horses rode like the wind from the border, only to find other men, with sorry-looking animals, ahead of them. Fast teams carrying anxious home-seekers were driven at breakneck speed, only to find on the land men who had gone in afoot. Every precaution had been taken to keep out the "Sooner" element, yet that same element, profiting by former experiences, had captured the land. All night the rumble of teams could be heard as they moved out to the strip. At the stations the men stood in line at the ticket office, awaiting the slow movements of ticket-sellers, who could not sell more than 2,000 tickets an hour. The great jam was at Orlando, where were gathered 20,000 citizens of Perry, all anxious for the time to come when they could start on their ten-mile race. From the elevation at Orlando the line could be seen for a distance of eight miles east and ten miles west, A half-dozen times some one would shout the hour of noon, and fifty to a hundred horsemen would draw out of the line, only to be driven back by the cavalrymen, who were patrolling the Strip in front of the impatient throng.

At last a puff of smoke was seen out on the plains to the north, and soon the dull boom of a cannon was heard. A dozen carbines along the line were fired in response to the signal, and the line was broken. Darting out at breakneck speed, the racers soon dotted the plains in every direction. The trains were loaded rapidly. At first there was an attempt to examine the registration certificates; but this soon was given up, as the rushing thousands pushed those ahead of them, the trainmen giving all their time to collecting tickets. The first train of twelve cars pulled across the line at noon, crowded as trains never were before; even the platforms and roofs were black with human beings. Following this train at intervals of only two or three minutes went another and another until the last, composed of flat and coal cars, all crowded, had pulled across the line, followed by at least 3,000 disappointed, panting men who were determined not to be deprived of their rights. The run to Perry was made in three-quarters of an hour. Before the train stopped men began climbing out of the windows and tumbling from the platforms.

In their haste to secure claims ahead of the trains were at least 1,000 horsemen, who had come the ten miles from the line in unprecedentedly short time and who claimed all the lots immediately about the land office and the public well. They were rubbing down their weary horses when the trains were unloading. When the last of the trains pulled in the scramble for land about the town continued with increased vigor. The quarter-sections about the town had all been taken, but in every direction lines were being run and additional towns laid out, to be called North Perry, South Perry, East Perry, and West Perry. By two o’clock fully 20,000 men and women, of all nationalities and colors, were on the site of what all hope will be a great city. They were without food and without water. The scenes at Enid were a repetition of those at Perry.