He seemed to himself to be taking part in a great
play. Holding a pistol in one hand and a knife in the other, he
opened the box door, put the pistol to the President's head, and
fired. Major Rathbone sprang to grapple with him, and received a
savage knife wound in the arm. Then, rushing forward, Booth
placed his hand on the railing of the box and vaulted to the
stage. It was a high leap, but nothing to such a trained athlete.
He would have got safely away, had not his spur caught in the
flag that draped the front of the box. He fell, the torn flag
trailing on his spur; but though the fall had broken his leg, he
rose instantly brandishing his knife and shouting, "Sic Semper
Tyrannis!" fled rapidly across the stage and out of sight. Major
Rathbone shouted, "Stop him!" The cry, "He has shot the
President!" rang through the theatre, and from the audience,
stupid at first with surprise, and wild afterward with excitement
and horror, men jumped upon the stage in pursuit of the assassin.
But he ran through the familiar passages, leaped upon his horse,
rewarding with a kick and a curse the boy who held him, and
escaped into the night.
The President scarcely moved. His head drooped forward slightly,
his eyes closed. Major Rathbone, not regarding his own grievous
hurt, rushed to the door to summon aid. He found it barred, and
someone on the outside beating and clamoring to get in.
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