The cry for mercy and the prayer for life brought an oath from the leader and derisive laughter from the mob. “Stand up in a line,” said the man in command. “Stand up and we will see if we can’t kill you out; if we can’t, we’ll turn out.” The Negroes faltered. “Burn the devils,” came a suggestion from the crowd. “No, we’ll shoot ’em like dogs,” said the mob’s leader. “Stand up, every one of you and get up quick and march to the end of the room.” The Negroes slowly stood up. The mob came closer and pressed about the stacks of furniture that had been stored in the room. The leader asked if everybody’s gun was loaded and the men answered in the affirmative. The Negroes pleaded and prayed for mercy. They stood, trembling wretches, jerking at the long ropes that held them by the waist and about the wrists. “Oh, give me a minute longer!” implored Bud Cotton. “My men, are you ready?” asked the captain, still cool and composed and fearfully determined to execute the bloodiest deed that has ever stained Campbell County. “Ready,” came the unanimous response. “One, two, three--fire!” was the command, given orderly, but hurriedly. Every man in the room, and the number is estimated at from seventy-five to one hundred and fifty, fired point blank at the line of trembling and terror-stricken bound wretches. The volley came as the fire from a gatling gun. It filled the warehouse with smoke and flame and death and brought a wail of horror that chilled the helpless guard. The volley awakened the peaceful town of Palmetto and from every house the excited citizens ran. “Load and fire again,” shouted the captain of the mob, and his voice was heard above the screaming and death cries of the wounded and dead. The men rapidly loaded their guns, then fired at the given command. “Now, before you leave, load and get ready for trouble,” came the captain’s order, and then men loaded their guns and got ready to leave the bloody room. The guard was not relieved, however, until every man had left the building and all was safe for their hasty flight. “I wonder if they are all dead,” said one of the mob, when the order was given to leave the building. “I reckon so,” said one of the mob. “But we had better see,” said the captain coolly and assuming an air of business. A detail of probably a half dozen men, probably a dozen and maybe more, the guard does not remember just how many, was sent forward into the blood and brains and into the twisting mass of dying men to examine if all were dead. They were given orders to finish those who were not dead. The detail rushed forward. The men jerked the fallen, twisting and writhing and bleeding bodies about.