BY 
 
 HUBERT ANTHONY SHANDS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY 
 HARCOURT, BRACK AND COMPANY, INC. 
 
 PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY 
 THE QUINN a BODEN COMPANY
 
 WHITE AND BLACK 
 
 2201166
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "Now that Bob has got the medal, Will, it is time that 
 we decided definitely where we shall send him. to col- 
 lege," said Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "Oh, time enough for that," answered Mr. Robert- 
 son, "and besides we must wait a little while longer to 
 see what the crops are going to do." 
 
 "Crops or no crops, Bob is going to college, and he 
 is going this fall. Bob is such a good boy, and he has 
 taken the medal' for scholarship at the high school, and 
 then, Will, you must remember that he was converted 
 last summer. I am not afraid to send him off to college 
 now. Oh, Will, I am so proud of him. And you too, 
 [Will, you are proud of him, aren't you, aren't you, Will?" 
 
 "Yes, Mamie, I'm proud of him all right, but you see 
 it will cost money, a lot of money. And there is nowhere 
 we can get it unless the crops turn out well and the price 
 is good." 
 
 "Oh, we can sacrifice, Will. We can do without. Bob 
 must go to college. He is eighteen now, and it is time 
 for him to go." 
 
 "Yes, honey, I know all about that, and we'll see about 
 it." 
 
 "No, no, Will, you must promise me. There have been 
 so many things you were going to see about that have 
 never come to pass. You must promise me." 
 
 "All right, then, we will send Bob to college this fall 
 if" 
 
 3
 
 4 White and Black 
 
 "No, Will, no 'if about it. Say 'We will send Bob 
 to college this fall.' " 
 
 "Well, honey, I was just going to say, 'if possible.' 
 We certainly can't send him if it is impossible. We can't 
 do the impossible." 
 
 "Oh, Will, Will, so many things have been impossible." 
 
 "Yes, dear heart, I know it. I know it. So many 
 things that we hoped for have never come to us, and it 
 has been my fault. I know that." 
 
 "No, Will, don't say that." 
 
 "Yes, it is true. Why disguise it? Why deny it?" 
 
 "But, Will, think, think of Bob, what a fine boy he 
 is, how smart, how good, how handsome! Oh, Will, 
 isn't it enough to fill us with happiness to have him?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, honey, he is a mighty fine boy." 
 
 "And to think of his taking the medal for scholar- 
 ship, such a beautiful medal it is. And Brother Maxcy 
 told me his was such a sound conversion. He said he 
 never saw a more earnest and sincere conversion in his 
 life. Oh, Will, our son is a true, true Christian!" 
 
 "Yes, honey, that's all mighty fine, and we'll strain 
 every nerve we will send him to college." 
 
 "Oh, Will, think what a magnificent lawyer he will 
 make, or maybe a consecrated minister of the gospel." 
 
 "Yes, yes, honey, that will come in its time, but I have 
 been out in the field all day, honey, and I'm awfully tired 
 and sleepy. Suppose we go to sleep now." 
 
 "Oh, I can't sleep, Will, for thinking about it. Listen, 
 I will run into Bob's room and tell him all about it. And 
 when I come back, I'll tip in, so you won't hear me." 
 
 "All right, honey," said Mr. Robertson sleepily, offer- 
 ing his lips for his good-night kiss. 
 
 Mrs. Robertson kissed him, saying, "Good night, dear,"
 
 White and Black 5 
 
 and rose from beside him, threw on a kimono, and stole 
 out quietly to go to Bob's room. 
 
 They had had two other children, a boy and a girl, 
 but both had died in infancy, the one of typhoid and the 
 other of malaria, leaving Bob an only child.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 IT was in the early part of June, 1921, and only two 
 weeks since Bob had been graduated from the high school 
 of Compton with the highest mark for scholarship, and 
 its reward, a gold medal, had been bestowed on him amid 
 the admiring and envious glances of his class-mates. 
 
 Compton was the county-seat of a county in southeast 
 Texas, that portion of the state which had been settled 
 before the Civil War by planters from North Carolina 
 and Alabama, who had brought with them their black 
 slaves. 
 
 They had cleared away the forests and made fields for 
 the cultivation of cotton and corn. In 1921 these fields 
 had been in such cultivation for something like sixty or 
 seventy years. There had been infrequent and limited 
 rotation of crops, so the fertility of the soil was largely 
 exhausted. And the excessive rains of winter had washed 
 many deep gullies through the sand and clay of the 
 farms that lay, as it were, on their backs offering up in 
 continuing protest these red gashes on their fronts to 
 the inspection of unpitying skies. 
 
 The old Benton pl'ace, as it was commonly known 
 throughout the county, was about a mile east of the small 
 town of Compton. And the west boundary of the place 
 was Berry Creek, which was subject to violent over- 
 flows, as much of the surface soil of the neighboring 
 hills had been washed into the creek bed and choked up 
 the channel. 
 
 6
 
 White and Black 7 
 
 The farm was traversed from west to east by one of the 
 main highways of the county, and on this a surface of 
 gravel and clay had recently been laid to make the road 
 passable in wet weather. One of the two railroads that 
 crossed each other at Compton also cut through the 
 farm, but near its north end, and ran approximately 
 parallel with the highway. Both the railroad and the 
 highway crossed Berry Creek, the former on a high 
 trestle, the latter on a low bridge approached at either 
 end by an earthen dump surfaced with concrete. 
 
 The old Benton place containing five hundred acres 
 had belonged to Mrs. Robertson's grandfather, who had 
 lived on it and cultivated it with his slaves. It had been 
 inherited by her through her father, and she and Will 
 Robertson had moved on it as bride and groom twenty 
 years before, in June of 1901. The old Robertson place 
 of five hundred acres, usually called by the Robertsons 
 "the lower place," as being farther down the creek, con- 
 stituted, together with fifteen hundred acres of timber 
 land in the eastern part of the county, the inherited estate 
 of the groom. This "lower place" was three miles to 
 the west, had never been reached by any good road, and 
 was therefore less accessible to travel, as well as farther 
 from town than the old Benton place. It was natural 
 therefore that the young couple should choose the latter 
 as the site for their home. 
 
 The old house of Grandfather Benton, originally built 
 of logs that were later planked over, had fallen into 
 decay, and had long been inhabited by Negro tenants. 
 It sat on the north side of the road. The young people 
 built their new home on the south side of the road, placing 
 it on the top of a hill that was the highest point in all 
 the country around.
 
 8 White and Black 
 
 It was a frame house of two stories, painted white, 
 with green window blinds, and together with the out- 
 buildings cost five thousand dollars. It was known to 
 all on the farm as the "big house." It faced north toward 
 the road, and was square in shape except that there was 
 an ell at the rear, where were the kitchen and pantry. 
 One entering at the front passed across a large porch 
 into a hall running through the center of the house to a 
 back porch. Two downstairs rooms were on each side of 
 the hall, which contained a staircase leading up to a hall 
 and four rooms similarly arranged above. In the summer 
 time this hall was a cool place for an afternoon siesta, 
 but on a winter morning it felt as cold as the Arctic 
 regions despite the fact that there was a shut door at 
 each end. The first room to the right of the front 
 entrance was the family sitting-room. Across the hall 
 from it was the parlor, rarely used for any purpose. 
 Behind the parlor was the dining-room, and across the 
 hall from it a bedroom called the "preachers' room," in 
 which visiting ministers, and many of them came to the 
 Robertsons', usually stayed. 
 
 Immediately in front of the house and extending around 
 to the west side was a flower garden, not very well tended, 
 but enclosed by a picket fence. From the front gate 
 in this fence a graveled road bordered by planted pecan 
 trees led to the highway about three hundred yards dis- 
 tant. The same road bent west around the garden and 
 headed toward the rear of the premises, passing a well 
 and tank tower from which water was supplied to the 
 house by a windmill that screaked badly at times and at 
 other times didn't pump very well for lack of wind. 
 
 To the west of the house there was a sharp declivity 
 falling toward the creek bottom, in the nearer edge of
 
 White and Black 9 
 
 which was planted a field of cotton. From the house 
 ran a road through this field to a gate called the bottom 
 gate, which afforded a shorter way than the highroad to 
 the town. Beyond the field were the trees along the creek 
 bank. Over their tops in the near distance could be seen 
 the houses and streets of Compton and the court house 
 in the middle of the square. None of these was par- 
 ticularly picturesque, as the houses were not imposing 
 and the streets were neither very wide nor handsome nor 
 greatly frequented by either pedestrians or equipages, 
 except perhaps on Saturday afternoons, when all of the 
 Negroes of the surrounding farms would come to town. 
 
 Behind the house was first a back-yard, then the barns, 
 stables and horse lot, then the vegetable garden, and 
 behind that the field cultivated by Joe Williams, a Negro 
 tenant. This field was traversed by a spring branch hav- 
 ing at its head around the spring a small grove of tower- 
 ing pine trees, and further down along its course a row 
 of cottonwoods on either side, until it reached the elms, 
 oaks, hackberries and willows of the creek bottom. The 
 spring branch was half way between the big house and 
 the tenant house of Joe Williams, the roof of which 
 could be seen from the big house through the foliage 
 of the intervening trees. 
 
 On the east of the house was a five-acre patch on which 
 was grown usually such small crops as sorghums, sweet 
 potatoes, cowpeas, peanuts and watermelons. Beyond 
 this patch was a thirty-acre wood lot, covered mainly by 
 young second growth pines, which were interspersed here 
 and there with sassafras, sycamores, elms and oaks. 
 
 Between this wood lot and the highway was a small 
 pasture of something like twenty acres, called the home 
 pasture, in which calves and the horses soon to be needed
 
 So White and Black 
 
 were allowed to graze. The big pasture and hay meadow 
 were on the other side of the road, near the north end of 
 the farm, at some considerable distance behind the old 
 Benton homestead occupied by the Negro tenant, John 
 Ramsey, and his numerous family.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE next morning Mr. Robertson was up early and out 
 in the fields. He went first to that tilled by Joe Williams, 
 a Negro of fifty years of age, who had lived on the place 
 continuously for twenty-five years, and had reared there 
 his family of three girls, Lucindy, Mariah and Ella. His 
 wife was named Malviny. 
 
 Neither Joe nor any of his family was to be seen at 
 work in the field, so Mr. Robertson rode on to the tenant 
 house, where he found Malviny sweeping off the front 
 porch. 
 
 "What's the matter, Malviny?" he asked. "Why aren't 
 the folks out in the field? That cotton's got to be dirted 
 up, and it needs to be given a last chopping to get rid 
 of the cockle-burrs and those bunches of Johnson grass." 
 
 "Yassuh, Mr. Will, I wuz a-tellin' Joe about it, but he 
 say better wait till the jew gits off en de plants. He say 
 dey ain't no rush, and he's feel'in' sorter po'ly dis mawnin'. 
 He jus' 'lowed he'd lay a little later. And den Lucin- 
 dy's got de fever agin. She mighty nigh shook de kivvers 
 offen her yestiddy evenin', she wuz chillin' so awful. But 
 I'll call him Joe, Joe, Mr. Will's out hyeer." 
 
 Joe came out of the house chewing. "Good mawnin', 
 Mr. Will," he said, his utterance muffled by the corn- 
 bread in his mouth. "I ain't 'spected you to be up and 
 aroun' dis soon. It's powerful early, Mr. Will. I ain't 
 had time to finish breakfus' yit." 
 
 "Well, I think it's high time you were in the field, 
 Joe, and where are the girls?"
 
 12 White and Black 
 
 "Dey's kinder scrappin' up in de kitchen, Mr. Will, 
 all 'ceppen Lucindy. She's down agin wid de chills an' 
 fever. Looks like we sho' do have a power of sick- 
 ness." 
 
 "It does look that way, Joe. But hustle around now 
 and get out there with Mariah and Ella. I reckon Mai- 
 viny can look after Lucindy all right" 
 
 "All right, Mr. Will, but don't you reckon we better 
 wait till de jew lifts. You know it's powerful unhealthy 
 to git all wet up wid de jew, an' Mariah's been feelin' 
 puny like for mighty nigh a week, an' layin' by time is 
 mos' hyeer anyhow. Dey ain't no rush, Mr. Will. I 
 got de bes' cotton dey is on de place an' de cleanest. And 
 dey ain't none of 'em on de lower place kin beat me. 
 I wuz down dar las' week. And dey ain't none of 'em 
 can hold a light to me. An' de cawn's done laid by. 
 I got a cawn crop made, Mr. Will. Is you ever seed 
 sich cawn?" 
 
 "Well, yes, it is pretty good corn, Joe, but we've got 
 to make a good crop this year. I am going to send Bob 
 off to college. And he will need money." 
 
 "Waal, suh!" interposed Malviny, "Mr. Bob's gwine 
 off to college. Whar you gwine to send him, Mr. Will ?" 
 
 "I haven't decided yet, but Miss Mamie and I were 
 talking about it last night, and we are going to send him 
 somewhere." 
 
 "Waal, suh!" said Malviny, "an' whut's Miss Mamie 
 gwine to do widout him?" 
 
 "It is going to be hard on her. But we'll all have to 
 try to make it up to her somehow, Malviny." 
 
 "We sho' will, Mr. Will, 'cause Miss Mamie's sho' 
 gwine to grieve atter him. She keeps him in de middle 
 of her heart all de time."
 
 White and Black 13 
 
 Mariah and Ella came out on the porch, bashfully fin- 
 gering their aprons before Mr. Will. 
 
 "Whut you reckon, Ella," said Malviny, "Mr. Bob is 
 gwine off to college." 
 
 "Yassum, dat sho* wuz a pretty medal dey give him 
 over to de high school," said Ella. 
 
 "I'm powerful glad he's goin'," said Joe. "You know, 
 Mr. Will, I always is believed in eddication. I sont all 
 my girls to school. An' all of 'em kin read an' write an' 
 figger better'n whut I kin now." 
 
 "Yes, that's so, Joe, and you have done right. Yon 
 have really done better by them than you could afford. 
 But get your hat, Joe, and come along. I want to see 
 that mule hitched to your plow before I leave. I've got 
 to go over to John Ramsey's house and stir him up." 
 
 Joe went into the house and came back with a torn 
 and misshapen old rag of a hat so full of holes that no 
 imagination could regard it as a real protection against 
 the sun. 
 
 "Is that the best hat you've got, Joe ?" asked Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, as he rode along beside him on the way to Joe's 
 horse-lot. 
 
 "Yassuh, it's de bes' one I got to work in. Of co'se 
 I's got my Sunday hat, but it won't do to wear dat in 
 de field." 
 
 "Well, I'll have to look around the house and see if 
 Mr. Bob or I haven't an old one we can give you." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Will, wonder if you ain't got some 
 old pants, too. And Malviny wuz jes' sayin' las' week 
 she bet Miss Mamie wuz gwine to give her a dress. She 
 say she dreamed she seen Miss Mamie givin' her dat ar 
 spotted dress Miss Mamie been a-wearin' for de longest." 
 
 Mr. Robertson laughed, and said, "Well, I reckon
 
 14 White and Black 
 
 Malviny'll get it. What surprises me is that she hasn't 
 already told Miss Mamie about that dream. Or maybe 
 you thought of that dream, Joe, just this minute, and you 
 haven't had time to tell Malviny about it." 
 
 "Haw, haw, haw," laughed Joe. "You sho' is a joker, 
 Mr. Will." 
 
 "Well, never mind," said Mr. Robertson, "but speaking 
 of jokes, Joe, I just happened to notice how light-com- 
 plected Mariah and Ella are, when they came out on the 
 porch. You and Malviny are both so black." 
 
 "Now, look 'ee hyeer, Mr. Will, you know I can't stand 
 no jokin' 'bout dat. An' den dey ain't so light. Some- 
 times it jes' happens dat a way wid black folks, any- 
 how." 
 
 "I don't know, Joe, it looks to me like you started with 
 Lucindy, pretty middling black, and then Mariah, lighter, 
 and Ella, not very far from yellow. How do you explain 
 that?" 
 
 "Mr. Will, you knows as good as I does dat Malviny's 
 mammy wuz a yaller woman, an' it's jes' come out ag'in 
 in de gals." 
 
 "Well, maybe so, Joe, but you'd better keep your eyes 
 open all the same," and Mr. Robertson laughed teasingly. 
 
 "Now, look 'ee hyeer, Mr. Will," said Joe as he stood 
 with his hand on the ramshackle gate of his horse-lot, 
 "you knows how I've brung my gals up. I ain't never 
 let 'em work out for nobody. I knows and you knows 
 about dese white men. . . . And Malviny she's been home, 
 too, mighty nigh all de time. Naw, suh, my wimmen 
 folks has got to have charackter, Mr. Will. You knows 
 dat. Look over dar now at John Ramsey's gals. It 
 makes me sick, plumb sick, and him a local preacher, too.
 
 White and Black i<J 
 
 It's true I don't preach in de church. I don't do nuthin' 
 but lecture sometimes at prayer meetin' when de preacher 
 ain't dar, but if one of my gals wuz to carry on like 
 John Ramsey's does, I'd beat her to death. Why can't 
 de white men behave deyselves an' let our wimmen folks 
 alone, we don't " 
 
 "Look out, Joe," said Mr. Robertson sternly. "Stop 
 right there. Get that mul'e hitched to the plow." 
 
 "Yassuh, Mr. Will, I wuzn't gwine to say nuthin'. I 
 was jes' a-thinkin' " 
 
 "Well, don't think. I haven't got time to fool along 
 here all morning. Get a move on you." 
 
 Joe caught the mule and led it to where the gear was 
 hanging on the rail fence. "Whoa, mule! whoa, Beck!" 
 he said. "Dis hyeer mule tries to flinch plum across de 
 lot ever time I go to th'ow de back-band 'cross her. She 
 is de out-doin'est mule I ever seed." 
 
 "I reckon so, Joe, you ought to be ashamed of your- 
 self. Look at that sore on her back." 
 
 "Oh, dat ain't much of a so', Mr. Will'. Dat little ole 
 so' don't hurt her none. She's jes' mean, dat's whut she 
 is." 
 
 "Why, the sore is half as big as my hand. Get a 
 gunnysack and put under that back-band, and bring the 
 mule up to the big house to-night to be doctored." 
 
 Joe found an old gunny-sack, put it in place, and at 
 last got the mule hitched to the plow. Mr. Robertson 
 turned his horse and rode away, saying angrily, "These 
 damned niggers will work a mule all day and slip it out 
 and ride it all night." But he added after a pause, "Well, 
 that's just a nigger. They always have done it, the best
 
 1 6 White and Black 
 
 of them, and I suppose they always will. But Joe is 
 right. The white men ought to let the nigger women 
 alone. And Joe has certainly done his best by his girls. 
 Ah, well, there's a lot of things to worry about."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ON his way to John Ramsey's, Mr. Robertson had to 
 pass by the big house and go down the road in front 
 of it. Just as he came to the big gate opening into the 
 road he was overtaken by Bob riding his horse, Saladin, a 
 very beautiful animal, somewhat larger than medium- 
 sized, a dark bay in col'or, and gracefully shaped. Mrs. 
 Robertson had named him Saladin, because he must have 
 Arabian blood in him, she said. Mr. Robertson had 
 bought him for Bob two years before from an itinerant 
 horse-trader. 
 
 "Hold on, Papa," said Bob, "let me open the gate 
 for you." 
 
 Mr. Robertson looked around, saying, "Hello, Bob, 
 have you had your- breakfast already ?" 
 
 "I have that," answered Bob, "and it was a good one. 
 Cindy can beat the world frying chicken, can't she, Papa ! 
 And Mama gave me a lot of those new plum preserves 
 with my batter-cakes. You and Mama are mighty good 
 to me, Papa." 
 
 "Yes, I expect we spoil you, Bob. But you know, yot 
 are your mother's heart." 
 
 Bob had skilfully brought his horse alongside of the 
 gate, and now leaned over and deftly opened it. Riding 
 through first, he held the gate open for his father to 
 pass, and then closed it. 
 
 "Papa," he said, "you couldn't spare a dollar this morn- 
 ing, could you?" 
 
 "Well, son, I reckon so, but dollars are mighty scarce. 
 
 17
 
 1 8 White and Black 
 
 What are you going to do, set 'em up to the girls at the 
 soda-fountain ?" 
 
 "Well, I thought I might see Minnie Deane, and a 
 feller feels mighty bad when he hasn't got a cent in his 
 pocket." 
 
 "All right," answered Mr. Robertson, taking out his 
 pocketbook, "here's the dollar. Minnie is a nice girl." 
 
 "Thank you, Papa, so long !" And Bob galloped away 
 toward Compton. 
 
 "Rides like he was part of the horse," thought Mr. 
 Robertson, as he looked after him. "He's a fine boy, 
 there's no denying that. But, of course, he is not as good 
 as Mamie thinks he is. No boy could be. Now, for John 
 Ramsey." 
 
 He rode across the highway to John's gate, which was 
 set back a little way from the road. Two pickaninnies, 
 ragged, grinning, bright yellow in color, raced from John's 
 porch to open the gate, animated by hope for a nickel. 
 But this morning Mr. Robertson passed them up, hardly 
 noticing their presence. 
 
 He saw John hastily leaving the porch as if he had 
 a matter of great urgency to attend to somewhere within 
 the house or at the horse-lot in the rear. 
 
 "Hold on, John. Where are you going?" he called, 
 loudly. 
 
 John stopped midway of the dilapidated hall that was 
 open to the elements at both ends, and half turning around, 
 said, "Lawd, is dat you, Mr. Will? I ain't seed you, I 
 wuz in sich a hurry to git to work. I wuz jes' a-rushin* 
 back to hitch up. But dat's me. I always is in sich a 
 rush a-workin* dat I don't hardly see nobody at all." 
 
 Mr. Robertson laughed good-naturedly. "Of all the 
 fancy liars, John, you take the cake. You would have
 
 White and Black 19* 
 
 sat out on that porch until dinner time watching the 
 road, if I hadn't come along. You saw me, but you 
 thought I was going to town with Bob. The only thing 
 that surprised you was that I turned up this way." 
 
 "Now, Mr. Will, you discombobulates a man when you 
 argyfies dat a way. I wuz jes' tellin' Rosy las' night dat 
 you sho' is got a keen eye on you. An' dey ain't nobody 
 neenter to think dey kin pull de wool over it, neither." 
 
 "How's your crop, John? I have been down to the 
 lower place so much lately that I haven't had a chance to 
 get over here." 
 
 "De crop is doin' fine, Mr. Will. Of co'se dey is a 
 few skips in de cotton hyeer an' dar. You know I didn't 
 git de bes' stand 'count of de wet weather, but I sho' is 
 worked to make up for dat. An' cotton is a plant dat 
 reesponds to work." 
 
 "Well, if that's all it responds to," said Mr. Robert- 
 son, smiling, "yours is bound to answer in a whisper." 
 
 "Naw, suh, naw, suh, Mr. Will, my cotton is shoutin' 
 out loud, and my cawn, you ought to see it, my cawn is 
 yellin' come look at me !" 
 
 "Well, let's go," answered Mr. Robertson. "Saddle 
 up something and come along." 
 
 They went to the horse-lot, and John threw an old 
 worn-out saddle on the back of a flea-bitten, bony gray 
 mare, mounted, and they rode toward the field. 
 
 "John, why don't you feed your work animals ?" asked 
 Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "I feeds 'em, I feeds 'em good all de time," answered 
 John, "but you know, Mr. Will, my part of de cawn from 
 las' year is runnin' low, an' we got to save some of it 
 for bread. But dis hyeer ole mare kin eat an' eat an* 
 eat, an' she don't git no fatter. She reminds me of de
 
 2O White and Black 
 
 locustes in de Scripter. Dey et up ever' thing dey wuz 
 in de Promised Land an' whut do de Good Book say ? 
 It don't say nuthin' about a single fat locust anywhar 
 'round Jerusalem, nor yet in de bound'ry lines of Jericho." 
 
 "You've been selling that corn. That's what you've 
 been doing," said Mr. Robertson. "And I'm getting tired 
 of it. I'm going to drive you off of the place if you 
 don't quit starving your stock." 
 
 But just then they passed through a skirt of high blood- 
 weeds and willow bushes that grew along a small branch 
 and that had hitherto hid John's crop from sight. When 
 Mr. Robertson's eye fell on the corn, he said, angrily, 
 "What on earth do you mean, John? The cockle-burrs 
 are taking that corn. Here we have had two weeks of 
 good weather, and you haven't struck a lick of work." 
 
 "Lawd, Mr. Will, I done laid dat cawn by mos' three 
 weeks ago. I wuz de fust hand on de place to lay my 
 cawn by." 
 
 "Well, you are going to be the first hand on the place 
 to get in it again and chop those burrs and plow out 
 the middles. You begin on that this morning. You 
 hear me !" 
 
 "Yassuh, of co'se I'll' chop 'em out if you say so, Mr. 
 Will, but dem burrs don' hurt nuthin'. You know it's 
 natchul for cuckle-burrs to grow up in cawn you done 
 laid by, Mr. Will, and dey shades de roots of de cawn." 
 
 "Shut up!" said Mr. Robertson. "That corn won't 
 make ten bushels to the acre. Come on, and let's see 
 your cotton." 
 
 John followed meekly with apprehension and calcu- 
 lation in his eye. They rode in silence. When they came 
 to the cotton field, Mr. Robertson exclaimed, "God
 
 White and Black 21! 
 
 a'mighty, look at that cotton, all run away with the 
 grass! I'm a mind to break your infernal neck. What 
 do you mean by it?" 
 
 "Why, Mr. Will, dat little ole grass ! Dat ain't nuthin'. 
 Me an' de chillun'll git dat out of dar befo' you kin say 
 boo-shuckins. We wuz jes' lay in' off to git into dat 
 cotton to-day." 
 
 "Joe's cotton is nearly clean," said Mr. Robertson, "and 
 I don't see why you can't keep up with him at least." 
 
 "If I had de force Brother Williams's got, I'd ha' had 
 dat cotton clean long befo' now," answered John. 
 
 "What's the matter with your force? You've got as 
 many as Joe has." 
 
 "Waal, suh, you know, Mr. Will, dat de mos' of my 
 chillun is small, all my boys is little an' Rosy, my oldest 
 gal, she, she " 
 
 "What's the matter with her?" 
 
 "She's gwine to have another baby, Mr. Will." 
 
 "Oh, the devil!" said Mr. Robertson, "didn't your 
 other daughter what's her name? Oh, Sally. She is 
 the one who had a baby in the winter and it died?" 
 
 "Yassuh, she had one." 
 
 "And neither one of them is married." 
 
 "Naw, suh, dey ain't married yit." 
 
 "And you a preacher ! Can't you bring your children 
 up better than that ?" 
 
 "De Lawd gives an' de Lawd takes away, Mr. Will, 
 an'" 
 
 "Who's the daddy of Rosy's baby?" 
 
 "I don't know, suh, but she say it mus' be Mr. Hiram 
 Shorter. She say she's 'most sho' it's Mr. Hiram 
 Shorter."
 
 22 White and Black 
 
 "So that's how it is ! But I reckon there's no stopping 
 it. All of you are so trifling and lazy and poor. Why 
 don't you work and make something?" 
 
 "We -works all de time, Mr. Will, but it looks like 
 v we can't never git ahead none. An' you knows gals will 
 be gals, an' dey boun' to have some ribbons and things." 
 
 Mr. Robertson threw up his hand in exasperation. 
 "Well," he said, "get the rest of 'em down here to chop- 
 ping out that cotton, and you go to work on the corn." 
 
 Dejectedly he turned his horse to ride back to the 
 big house, leaving John gazing at the cotton patch and 
 scratching his head as if trying to figure out where to 
 begin work on it
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 IT was ten o'clock when Mr. Robertson reached home. 
 The sun was shining hot and no breath of air was stirring. 
 Over the fields was a shimmer of heat waves, and the 
 katydids were singing their strident song of summer. 
 
 "Phew ! it's hot," he said, "but maybe this weather will 
 stun the boll-weevils a little. That's some comfort any- 
 how." 
 
 He went into the house through the back porch, took 
 a drink of water from the bucket that was hung there on 
 a wire from the ceiling, mopped his face with a handker- 
 chief, walked into the hall where Mrs. Robertson was 
 sitting, shelling black-eyed peas, and said, "These trifling 
 niggers will be the death of me yet. John Ramsey's crop 
 is in an awful shape." 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Robertson, "John's crop was never 
 in any other shape, was it?" 
 
 "No, but it is worse even than usual." 
 
 "I've been telling you to get rid of John all of the 
 time. Why do you let him stay on ?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know, he seems to have such a hard time 
 with his women folks and one thing another, I haven't 
 just had the heart to drive him away. And then he's a 
 good nigger, never spoke a disrespectful word to me 
 in his life, and," he added with a smile, "as a grave digger 
 he can't be beat." 
 
 "A hard time with his women folks !" said Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson. "Why, his girls have as good clothes as I have, 
 and his wife, too. They ought to be run out of the county. 
 
 23
 
 24 White and Black 
 
 And he lives off of them and off of you. He never makes 
 any crop. And I hope we don't want any graves dug 
 soon, and besides he makes dumb Handy, his helper, do 
 almost all the real work about digging a grave." 
 
 "Now, now, Mamie, you know his women folks haven't 
 as good clothes as yours." 
 
 "Well, they look as good, but of course a nigger looks 
 dressed up in clothes that would look shabby on a white 
 person. But how much finer they dress than Joe's girls ! 
 I can't stand 'em. And as for John, he's a lazy, good- 
 for-nothing palaverer. That's what he is." 
 
 "Oh, you forget, Mamie, John's a minister of the gos- 
 pel," said Mr. Robertson, laughing. 
 
 "How can you laugh about that, Will? You ought to 
 be ashamed." 
 
 "Oh, well, I don't suppose anybody takes a nigger 
 preacher seriously," he answered. 
 
 "I don't know," said Mrs. Robertson. "I think Joe 
 Williams is really a good man." 
 
 "Yes, but Joe is not a preacher, though." 
 
 "Well, there's Uncle Sam Sparkins, down on the lower 
 place. He's a good, humble Christian." 
 
 "Yes, I reckon Uncle Sam's all right. And his boys 
 are good workers. I don't think I ever saw a nicer crop 
 than Bill's, his oldest boy. It's as clean as your hand, 
 and well worked from start to finish." 
 
 "Well, I am glad to hear there's one good crop some- 
 where." 
 
 "Oh, taken by and large, the crops are not so bad. John 
 Ramsey's is the only one that looks hopeless." 
 
 "If I live to see the end of this year, John Ramsey has 
 got to get off of this place," said Mrs. Robertson, de- 
 terminedly.
 
 White and Black 2$ 
 
 "Yes, I reckon it would be best to get rid of him," 
 answered Mr. Robertson. "But what's Bob up to this 
 morning? He touched me for a dollar at the big gate." 
 
 "He said he was going to town. And I think he wanted 
 to buy Minnie Deane a pound of candy." 
 
 "He didn't say a word to me about college. How does 
 he feel about that?" 
 
 "He's overjoyed at the idea of going. He is such an 
 ambitious boy, Will. He told me he was so thankful to 
 think that he was going to get to go. He looks more 
 like you every day, Will." 
 
 "Well, I don't know. I certainly haven't been very 
 ambitious, or, at least, I have accomplished mighty littl'e," 
 said Mr. Robertson, sighing. 
 
 "Oh, Will, you know you married so young, the first 
 year after you had finished at college, and since that time 
 it has been a fight with poor land and trifling niggers and 
 bad seasons and boll-weevils and army worms and what 
 not, and I know you have done it all for me, honey." 
 
 "No, no, Mamie, I ought to have done far better." 
 
 "And there's the mortgage on the lower place, too, that 
 has been running all this time. And after all we never 
 needed such a big house as we built with that money. 
 We were foolish young things, Will, and didn't know." 
 
 "No, honey, we didn't know. And, by the way, this is 
 June, ain't it? And the semi-annual interest is coming 
 due again next month. I'll have to borrow some money 
 from the bank to pay it with." 
 
 "And the bank charges ten per cent., don't it, Will?" 
 
 "Yes, but it won't have to be but for ninety days, and 
 the crops will be in by that time ; so we can pay it back. 
 It looks like we ought to have enough money without 
 borrowing, but in 1915, you remember, the storm
 
 26 White and Black 
 
 destroyed the crops. It took all we could make in 1916 
 to pay those losses. 1917 and '18 were drought years 
 and we made no corn. The high price of cotton pulled 
 us through, but in 1918 we bought the automobile and 
 that took all of our surplus. 1919 was the flood year, 
 and we made nothing, and you know what happened to 
 us last year. We had a wet spring and had to plant three 
 times to get a stand. The seed rotted in the ground. 
 That made our crop late, and by the time we could get 
 it on the market, the price had fallen below the cost of 
 production." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know, Will, farming is a hopeless busi- 
 ness, anyway, isn't it?" 
 
 Bob came in bringing the mail. His face was bright 
 and animated, his gray eyes dancing and his blond hair 
 rumpled, as he took off his hat. 
 
 "Here's the mail, Papa," he said. "I tell you I had 
 a time with Saladin. He came mighty near to stepping on 
 a big water-moccasin in the road, and I thought for a 
 minute he was going to get the best of me and run away, 
 he was so scared. Ha ! ha ! ha ! he did run and pitch." 
 
 "I wonder what that old rascal of a snake was doing 
 out in the road this time of day, hot as it is," said 
 Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Oh, Will, what difference does that make ? Just think, 
 Bob might have been killed! Bob, honey, are you sure 
 you are not hurt?" exclaimed Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "Shuckins ! Mama, I am not a baby," said Bob. 
 
 "What did you do with the horse?" asked Mr. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 "I hitched him in the shade out in front. I had an idea 
 I'd ride over to the big pasture and see how that yearling
 
 White and Black 27 
 
 is getting along that I doctored for the screw-worms yes- 
 terday." 
 
 "Not in this heat, Bob," said Mrs. Robertson, "it is 
 enough to give you a sunstroke. Wait till the cool of the 
 evening." 
 
 "Oh, Mama, you think I'm made out of " 
 
 "Mind your mother, Bob," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Oh, all right. I'll call Cyrus then to put up the 
 horse." 
 
 "No, you will have to put him up yourself. Cyrus went 
 early this morning down to the lower place to carry some 
 wire to fix up the fence. The cattlemen have been cutting 
 the fence down there again, and the cattle were getting 
 into Uncle Sam Sparkins's crop. I don't know what we 
 are going to do about those fellers al'ways cutting our 
 fences." 
 
 "Well, they have been at it for twenty years to my cer- 
 tain knowledge," said Mrs. Robertson, "and we never 
 have done anything yet except fix the fence up again." 
 
 "That's pretty near true," said Mr. Robertson. "But 
 what can you do? Sim Senter asked me to let him lie 
 in wait with a shotgun and shoot 'em." 
 
 "That's what I'd do, Papa," said Bob. 
 
 "No," answered Mr. Robertson, "what would happen, 
 if anything, is that some poor nigger would get shot. 
 The white men are not going around at night cutting 
 fences themselves. You know that. They get some 
 nigger to do the actual cutting." 
 
 "Well, why not shoot the feller that does the actual 
 cutting?" asked Bob. "If a few of 'em were shot, it 
 would be mighty hard for anybody to get a nigger to 
 cut fences after that."
 
 28 White and Black 
 
 "Oh, Papa is always so tender-hearted about niggers," 
 said Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "Well," answered Mr. Robertson, "I always feel some- 
 how that the poor things can't help themselves. I get 
 mad at 'em, they'd make a saint mad, but after all, they 
 are so ignorant and childish and " 
 
 "And they impose on you all the time, and always have," 
 said Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "Well, that's an old subject," said Mr. Robertson, "and 
 I don't suppose we'll break any new ground on that this 
 morning. Run along, Bob, and put up your horse." He 
 opened the morning paper that was printed in their 
 nearest city, and immersed himself in its columns. 
 
 Bob decided to lead Saladin through the yard to the 
 horse-lot in the rear, instead of riding around the fence, 
 as the horse had fidgeted about until he had gotten out 
 of the shade, and the sun had made the saddle too hot 
 to sit on comfortably. 
 
 As he passed, the cook was standing in the kitchen door, 
 blowing, and fanning herself with the end of her kitchen 
 apron. She was black and fat, and the sweat was running- 
 in little shining streams down her pudgy cheeks. She 
 was a woman of about thirty-five. 
 
 "Hello, Cindy, what are you going to have for dinner ?" 
 asked Bob. 
 
 "Roas' beef," said Cindy in a tone of great scorn, 
 "dat's de main thing. I sho' does hate dat roas' beef. 
 It looks like Mr. Will never kin git enough roas' beef." 
 
 "Oh, roast beef is good with the kind of gravy you 
 make," said Bob. 
 
 "Naw, honey, gim'me hog meat, gim'me hog meat 
 eve'y time. I put a big piece of bacon in wid de black-
 
 White and Black 29 
 
 eyed peas, an' dat's whut I'm gwine to git. Naw, suh, I 
 ain't gwine to be lef, not if I knows myse'f," and she 
 laughed with a tumultuous shaking of her fat sides and 
 breasts. 
 
 Bob smiled and said, "Anybody could look at you Cindy, 
 and tell you never have been left when it conies to eating." 
 
 "Naw, suh, we's hyeer to-day, and whar is we to-mor- 
 rer, honey? Haw, haw, haw, dat's it, whar is we to- 
 morrer ?" 
 
 Bob went on, leaving Cindy to the enjoyment of her 
 own wit. As he was unsaddling his horse in front of the 
 barn, Ella, Joe Williams's youngest girl, came through 
 the lot. 
 
 "Hello, Ella, where are you going?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Jus' up to de big house to borry a little salt," she said. 
 "Mama's run plum out of salt, and she sent me up to 
 see if I couldn't borry a little from Miss Cindy. But 
 dey do tell' me, Mr. Bob, dat you're goin' to college." 
 
 "Yes, that's what they say," answered Bob. 
 
 "Dat sho wuz a pretty medal dey give you over to de 
 high school, Mr. Bob, but I ain't never had no chance to 
 see it right close." 
 
 "Here it is," said Bob, running his hand into his 
 pocket. "Do you want to look at it?" 
 
 "I suttinly does," said Ella, reaching out her brown, 
 shapely hand, like those of so many colored women 
 seemingly not susceptible to coarsening by toil. 
 
 Bob put the medal in her upturned palm. "It's gold, 
 ain't it, Mr. Bob, sho' 'miff gold?" 
 
 "Yes, it's real gold," said Bob, smiling. 
 
 "And ain't it bright ? And it's got writin' on it. Lemme 
 see, it says you got de highest grade of any of de pupils. 
 It sho' is nice to be smart dat a way, Mr. Bob."
 
 JO White and Black 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," said Bob proudly, "maybe I just 
 had better luck." 
 
 "Nunck-unh, Mr. Bob, you're jes' like Mr. Will. 
 You won't never take nuthin' to yo'se'f. All de folks 
 say Mr. Will won't never take nuthin' good to hisse'f. 
 All of us knows you is de smartest boy dey is. But dis 
 sho' is a pretty medal." 
 
 "Bob! Bob!" Mrs. Robertson's voice was heard call- 
 ing, "dinner is ready." 
 
 Ella handed the medal back, and Bob left hurriedly 
 for dinner. 
 
 As he came in, his father asked, "What were you 
 doing out in the lot so long, Bob? Did you have any 
 trouble with Saladin?" 
 
 "No, Papa, Ella came along, and I was just showing 
 .her my medal." 
 
 Mr. Robertson looked at him keenly, as they took 
 their seats at the table, then said, "I don't think I'd 
 be showing my medal' around to niggers." 
 
 "Oh, there's no harm in that, Will," said Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson. "Naturally Bob is proud of his medal." 
 
 "Let me manage this," said Mr. Robertson with un- 
 expected heat, and Mrs. Robertson said no more. 
 
 They finished the meal with little more conversation, 
 though Bob tried to liven things up by telling what 
 Cindy had said about the bacon. 
 
 All that afternoon the look his father had given him 
 hung in Bob's mind. And that night he saw again in his 
 dreams Ella's yellowish pal'm and the bright medal lying 
 in it glistening in the sun.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 BOB was up for six o'clock breakfast with his father 
 and mother next morning. 
 
 "Well, Bob," said Mr. Robertson, "you're the early 
 bird, what's the worm?" 
 
 "I really must go over to the big pasture to see about 
 that yearling, and I thought I'd go before it gets hot, 
 Papa, if you don't want me to go to town for the 
 mail." 
 
 "No, I am going to town myself. I want to see Mr. 
 Hiram Shorter about John Ramsey's account. John's 
 crop is so bad that I don't want him to run any big 
 account." 
 
 "Will, dear, I wish you would go in the car. Sister 
 Maxcy told me she wanted to come and spend the day, 
 and you can bring her out," said Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "Oh, my Lord," said Mr. Robertson. "Brother Maxcy 
 is a good man, but that woman nearly talks me to 
 death." 
 
 "Now, Will, we haven't had either of them here for 
 a month," answered Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "No, honey, that's all right, I'll get her." 
 
 When Mr. Robertson drove up to the general store of 
 Thompson & Co., Mr. Hiram Shorter was standing in 
 the front door, in his shirt-sleeves, and smiling ex- 
 pansively. He was head-clerk, bookkeeper and general 
 manager. In fact he was the only clerk, except on 
 Saturdays and around Christmas. Henry Thompson,
 
 32 White and Black 
 
 the proprietor, spent most of his time in fishing and in 
 riding after his cattle that ran loose on the range. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Robertson, come in," he said in 
 cheery tones. 
 
 . "Good morning, Mr. Hiram, I thought I'd drop by to 
 see about John Ramsey's account. Will you please look 
 it up for me. His crop's mighty poor." 
 
 "John's not much on the work, is he, Mr. Robertson ?" 
 
 "No, he is the triflingest nigger I've got." 
 
 "Well, I hear you'll probably get rid of him at the 
 end of this year anyhow?" 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 "Oh, I heard he was going to move to Randy Shal- 
 low's place this coming year." 
 
 "Who told you that?" 
 
 Mr. Hiram flushed a little. "Oh, I don't just re- 
 member," he said. "Somebody or other was telling me." 
 
 "Couldn't have been Rosy, I reckon?" asked Mr. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 "Well, that's a good one," said Mr. Hiram, flushing 
 redder still, "but you know about Randy Shallow and 
 Sally, looks like he wants her nearer to hand," and Mr. 
 Hiram laughed. 
 
 "It'll be a good riddance for me," answered Mr. Rob- 
 ertson. "I've just let John hang on year after year, be- 
 cause he said he couldn't get any other place, and then 
 he is such a promiser." 
 
 They had come to the standing-desk at the rear of the 
 store, where the books were kept. Mr. Hiram turned 
 to John Ramsey's account, added up a column of figures 
 and said, "Oh, it's not bad, only about a hundred dol- 
 lars."
 
 White and Black 33 
 
 "No, that's not so bad, he may be able to pay out at 
 that rate. But I nearly always have to pay something 
 for him at the end of every year." 
 
 "There's one thing certain," said Mr. Hiram, "we 
 wouldn't run him if you didn't stand for him. He is so 
 trifling. But I've been holding him down like you told 
 me. I haven't let him have near all he wanted." 
 
 "That's right. Much obliged," said Mr. Robertson. 
 "But they tell me, Mr. Hiram, that you've been setting 
 up to the little widow that sings in the choir with you. 
 It will be funny to see you a married man after all these 
 years." 
 
 "No, there's nothing to that," answered Mr. Hiram, 
 flushing his reddest. "You know I never have been 
 able to marry, and I can't afford it now. But Henry 
 Thompson asked me to speak to you about that little 
 farm he had to take for a bad debt. You know it's 
 just a little ways east of your place, over there by Uncle 
 Peter Higgins's and the nigger church. Sam Smither 
 turned it in on his debt here last year. And Henry says 
 if you'd like to buy it, he'd take fifteen hundred dollars 
 for it, a little cash and plenty of time on the balance. 
 There's about fifty acres of it and a pretty good house." 
 
 "Yes, I know. Well, that's a pretty good buy, but as 
 you know, I'm short of cash now. Still, you may tell 
 Henry that I'll think about it and let him know." 
 
 "All right, thank you, Mr. Will." 
 
 Mr. Robertson went out of the store thinking, "Well, 
 there is something to that. He never has been able to 
 marry on his small salary. If the Shorters hadn't lost 
 all their land, it might have been different. And Mr. 
 Hiram is a good sort of fellow, easy-going, good-natured
 
 34 White and Black 
 
 and generous, too generous for his own good. If it wasn't 
 for him, Henry Thompson wouldn't have much business, 
 that's a cinch. But judging people is a bad business, any- 
 way. Who knows, if it hadn't been for the land that 
 was left me, and Mamie " 
 
 He found Sister Maxcy ready and waiting on the 
 parsonage porch. She was a spry woman, if somewhat 
 fat, and punctuality was one of her principal virtues. 
 She was a great talker. The Baptists called her a gossip, 
 but the Methodists stood up for her valiantly in any 
 interdenominational parley, as her husband was the 
 Methodist minister. In talking strictly among themselves, 
 however, the Methodists were not quite so loyal. 
 
 All' of the way to the farm her monologue held on 
 continually, except when Mr. Robertson felt it abso- 
 lutely incumbent on him to say, "Yes'm" or "No'm" or 
 "I'll declare!" She had told Brother Maxcy that she 
 liked Mr. Robertson best of all the stewards, because he 
 was such a good listener. 
 
 Mr. Robertson's thoughts were still running on Mr. 
 Hiram Shorter. And in his mind was a clear picture of 
 Mr. Hiram's short, pudgy figure, and kindly, if some- 
 what sensual', face. And it came to him how animated 
 and boyish was the face of the shabby man of forty-four 
 when he would talk about his heroes of fiction, of whom 
 David Harum was his favorite, for Mr. Hiram was a 
 reader of novels as well as a singer in the Methodist 
 choir. "And ever since I've known him, everybody has 
 called him 'Mister Hiram,' never plain 'Hiram' nor 
 'Shorter,' while nobody but the niggers calls his boss 
 anything except 'Hen' or 'Henry.' And how cheerfully 
 he volunteered for the war, although he never did get
 
 White and Black 35 
 
 across the sea! And I don't know what we would do 
 about burying people if it wasn't for him," ran Mr. 
 Robertson's thoughts. 
 
 When they reached the house, Mrs. Robertson, after 
 greeting Sister Maxcy, said, "Will, Madison Mulberry is 
 here to see you from the lower place." 
 
 "Well, let him wait till after dinner," answered Mr. 
 Robertson, "I'm going to read the paper now out on 
 the front porch, and let you and Sister Maxcy have a 
 good talk." 
 
 In the big pasture at the north end of the farm Bob 
 was sitting on a fallen log, in the shade of an elm tree, 
 fanning himself with his hat. "My, that was a hot 
 job," he said. 
 
 It had taken him some time to find the yearling, which 
 had gone off to itself in a clump of bushes. And then he 
 had discovered that the animal' needed to be doctored 
 again, so he had to drive it out into the open, rope it, 
 and tie its feet before he could put the chresyllic oint- 
 ment and cotton into the sore that the worms had made. 
 Saladin had not been well trained as a cow-pony, so it 
 was a troublesome business for Bob to manage it all by 
 himself. 
 
 As he sat on the log he thought, "Sister Maxcy is talk- 
 ing Mama's ear off, I know, and I don't care if I 
 don't get back till dinner time. I believe I'll take a dip 
 in the swimmin' hole." 
 
 John Ramsey's field was separated from the pasture 
 by the railroad, and near where the latter crossed Berry 
 Creek, the western boundary of the farm, the stream 
 widened into a large hole of water that was deep enough 
 for swimming. It was only a short distance from where
 
 36 White and Black 
 
 Bob was sitting, so he hitched Saladin to a convenient 
 sapling, walked to the creek, slipped off his clothes, and 
 plunged in. 
 
 "Unh, this feels good," he said, as he dived and lunged 
 and splashed about. "I'll swim from this end of the pool 
 and back again, just to see if I can do it." 
 
 He swam noisily lifting his feet out of the water with' 
 their every stroke, so the "Chunk ! Chunk" of his progress 
 could be heard at a distance on the calm summer morn- 
 ing. 
 
 Sally was hoeing in John Ramsey's cotton field. She 
 raised her head, listening for a moment, then dropped 
 her hoe, crawled through the right-of-way fence, and 
 began to climb the railroad dump. One of John's small 
 boys who was working in the field with her, cried out, 
 "Where're you goin', Sally?" 
 
 She turned, motioned, "Sh!" to him with her finger 
 across her lips, surmounted the dump and descended into 
 the bushes on the other side. 
 
 The boy's first impulse was to yell', "Pappy, pappy/' 
 to John, who was working in the near-by cornfield, 
 "Sally's done dropped her hoe and gone off." But on 
 second thought he reflected, "Nunck-unh, maybe I'll git 
 somep'n ner out of Sally for keepin' quiet." 
 
 Bob swam around and splashed about for a few; 
 minutes till he was cool, and then came out of the water 
 and sat down on the grass in a shady spot to dry off 
 somewhat before putting on his clothes again. As he sat 
 there, by some chance his mind began to run on Minnie 
 Deane. "I wonder if she really likes me," he thought. 
 "A feller never can tell. But, my-oh-my, what if she 
 knew I was sitting here this a way thinking about her !" 
 
 He blushed at the idea, and hastened to dress.
 
 White and Black 37 
 
 As he rode across the railway and entered the cotton- 
 field, Sally was at the near end of a row, hoeing away 
 industriously, her back turned to Bob, but she was sing- 
 ing as if to herself : 
 
 "I went across de railroad track 
 I went across de railroad track 
 And I couldn't hardly come back 
 Arid I couldn't hardly come back 
 'Cause whut did I see? 
 'Cause whut did I see?" 
 
 At her first words Bob had halted Saladin, partly out 
 of curiosity and partly because he liked to hear Negroes 
 sing at their work. 
 
 Then, "The slut !" he said to himself, and rode on with- 
 out giving any sign that he had heard her, but with a dis- 
 quieting mixture in his mind of shame and anger and 
 something else. 
 
 As he was coming into the house, his father, sitting on 
 the porch, asked him, "Son, did you see any of John's 
 folks in the field when you passed by?" 
 
 "Yes, Papa, John was working in the corn, and two or 
 three of his little boys were chopping out the cotton." 
 
 "Wasn't either of the girls there?" 
 
 "Yes, I believe one of 'em was, now that I come to 
 think about it." 
 
 "Sally, I reckon," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Yes, I think it was Sally," said Bob. 
 
 His father resumed his reading, and Bob went on into 
 the house, wondering why he hadn't said outright at 
 first that it was Salty. 
 
 As he passed the sitting-room door, his mother called 
 to him. "Son, come and speak to Sister Maxcy." 
 
 Bob stood in the doorway and said, "Good morning,
 
 38 White and Black 
 
 Sister Maxcy, I hope you and Brother Maxcy are well." 
 
 "Yes, ttyank you, we are well, but my ! what a big young 
 man you've gotten to be. Come in and let me get a good 
 look at you. I expect I'll have to begin calling you Mister 
 Bob soon." 
 
 "I was just going upstairs to change my clothes," said 
 Bob, "I'm a sight. I got powerful dirty out in the pasture 
 wrestling with that yearling." 
 
 "Yes, son, I expect you had better run along and 
 change," said his mother, to Bob's great relief. 
 
 As he left, Sister Maxcy resumed her discourse where 
 it was interrupted by his appearance. "Yes, as I was a- 
 saying, Mister Maxcy is always making excuses for 
 people. I say a sinner is a sinner and they ought to be 
 ashamed of themselves. Why, just look around you, 
 mighty near all of the young people gone to dancing and 
 card-playing, and ten divorces in the county at the last 
 term of court. Why, they tell me that some of the official 
 members let card-playing go on right in their houses, 
 and" 
 
 "Well, not in this house," said Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "No, no, honey, of course not. I know that all of this 
 household have been gloriously saved and rest in the 
 Lord, but there's Brother Watkins and Brother Samuel 
 Deane. True, Jasper Deane, his brother, Minnie's father, 
 is very different and strict enough. But Brother Watkins 
 and Samuel Deane what do you say to them? and just 
 think of Mr. Hiram Shorter, he's not an official member, 
 I know, but think of him sitting up there singing in the 
 choir !" 
 
 "But maybe all of those stories about him are not true. 
 He certainly is a mighty nice man, and Will thinks a 
 lot of him," interjected Mrs. Robertson.
 
 White and Black 39 
 
 "True?" exclaimed Sister Maxcy, "true? What about 
 Rosy Ramsey? Everybody knows about that. It is the 
 common talk of the town, and there he stands a-smirking 
 and a-smiling and a-carrying on with all of the women, 
 white and black, that come into the store." 
 
 "Now, Sister Maxcy, isn't 'carrying on' a little strong? 
 I go into the store, and he doesn't carry on with me. But 
 what about Rosy?" 
 
 "Haven't you heard, and the thing right here under 
 your nose, Sister Robertson ! Well, John Ramsey is going 
 to be a grand-daddy again mighty soon, and who's re- 
 sponsible? Tell me that. Everybody knows it's no 
 other than Mister Hiram Shorter, the singer in our choir. 
 And what do you reckon Mister Maxcy says, and him a 
 preacher of the gospel and my husband, why, he says 
 you must always try to understand the why and maybe 
 then you can forgive the sin and love the sinner. But no, 
 not me, I'm not going around loving sinners, and God 
 don't forgive 'em unless they repent and forsake their 
 evil ways, why should I be expected to forgive 'em?" 
 
 "But what does Brother Maxcy say about Mr. Hiram?" 
 asked Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "He says understand the why. And the why is that 
 Mr. Hiram Shorter comes of good people that have lost 
 their money and he is easy-going and has always worked 
 for a small salary and he never has had the heart to ask 
 a white woman to marry him and sacrifice the way she 
 would have to sacrifice, and so . But I tell him, didn't 
 I sacrifice now, and then he says people are different, 
 and I say, well', why couldn't he go on just being a 
 bachelor like St. Paul or somebody, and he says mind 
 what he tells me, Mr. Hiram Shorter will give his heart 
 to God yet and become a good Christian, and the thing
 
 40 White and Black 
 
 to do is not to drive him out of the choir, because maybe 
 that's the yery thing that's going to lead him to salvation. 
 Think of old Hiram Shorter singing his way to salvation 
 on Sunday and prayer-meeting night, and where is he 
 other nights? Tell me that. It makes me sick. And 
 what if my folks were always poor, what has that got 
 to do with it? Why does Mr. Maxcy have to tell me 
 that?" 
 
 "Maybe he means, dear," said Mrs. Robertson, "that 
 probably you wouldn't understand so well what Mr. 
 Hiram would think a wife ought to have. You know, 
 honey, it's no disgrace to be poor, and maybe it's some- 
 thing like that he means." 
 
 "There you go, Sister Robertson, taking up for that 
 Mister Hiram, like all' the other women " 
 
 "No, no, honey, I just mean to say that Brother Maxcy 
 is a mighty good man, and " 
 
 "Good ! yes, he's good enough. But did you ever think, 
 Sister Robertson, what it means to live twenty years 
 with a man that everybody is always saying about him, 
 he is a saint?" 
 
 "No, I couldn't say that I have," answered Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson. "Will is a good man, but of course he gets mad 
 sometimes and sometimes maybe he tells me fibs, and " 
 
 "And there, that's just it," said Sister Maxcy, "you 
 get some relief. Sometimes I feel like being desperately 
 wicked just because I get so tired of hearing people 
 say Brother Maxcy is a mighty good man. And then 
 folks don't understand me, and they say I'm a vixen and 
 a gossip, and all sorts of things. And I love Mr. Maxcy, 
 too. But what do you reckon he says about Henry 
 Thompson that owns the store?"
 
 White and Black 41- 
 
 "I don't know. What does he say ?" asked Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 "Well, he says the root of his sin is that he is bash- 
 ful, just bashful. Says inwardly he is the shyest man 
 he ever knew and has the lowest opinion of himself. I 
 should think he ought to have the lowest opinion of him- 
 self, living openly with that nigger woman, the black, 
 brazen thing, with a yard full of Henry Thompson's chil- 
 dren, and flaunting around that store like she was as 
 good as any white lady in town. But Mr. Maxcy says 
 Henry Thompson started out with being so bashful and 
 having such a contempt for himself that he didn't dare 
 to raise his eyes to a white woman, that what he needed 
 was encouragement and heartening up, and that he didn't 
 get it, and so he just drifted into the ways of the baser 
 sort around him and got in worse and deeper on account 
 of his very bashful'ness. Now, what do you think of 
 that !" 
 
 "I tell you, I hate to say it again, Sister Maxcy, but 
 that makes me believe Brother Maxcy must be a mighty 
 good man," said Mrs. Robertson, smiling. 
 
 "Yes, I tell him he thinks with his heart instead of his 
 head, and a mighty soft heart it is," said Sister Maxcy, 
 "and that's the reason why he never has, in all these years, 
 got a real good appointment. Why plenty of preachers 
 that haven't got his education are holding down big city 
 pulpits in this very Conference right now. And where 
 is he ? Always stuck out in the country, where his wife 
 has to speak to such people as that low-down Henry 
 Thompson and listen to Mr. Hiram Shorter sing in the 
 choir !" 
 
 Sister Maxcy's indignation might have led her into 
 some extreme, if black Cindy had not stuck her head in
 
 42 White and Black 
 
 the door and said, "Miss Mamie, kin you come hyeer 
 a minute?" 
 
 Mrs. Robertson excused herself and went out with 
 Cindy to see about some final touches to the midday 
 meal. And Sister Maxcy picked up her sewing again, 
 pushing the needle into the cloth with little dabs that 
 were almost vicious.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 AFTER dinner was finished and the ladies had gone up- 
 stairs for their afternoon nap, Mr. Robertson went to 
 the back porch to find out what Madison Mulberry 
 wanted. Madison talked loudly and positively and had 
 rather a savage look, indeed it was said that there was 
 some Indian blood in his veins. He had the reputation 
 of being "a bad nigger," but he was a pretty good worker, 
 and as he was living on the lower place when Mr. Rob- 
 ertson inherited it, and always seemed to have had a 
 genuine affection for Mr. Robertson's father, Mr. Rob- 
 ertson had put up with much annoyance from him and 
 allowed him to stay. 
 
 "Well, Madison," he asked, "have you had your din- 
 ner?" 
 
 "Yassuh, Mr. Will, Sister Cindy give me some black- 
 eyed peas and cawn-bread," said Madison scornfully. 
 
 "Look'ee hyeer, nigger," broke in Cindy from the 
 kitchen door, "you ain't sayin' nuthin' 'bout dat bacon 
 you et up away from me and Cyrus, an' dat whole slab 
 of peach pie." 
 
 "Waal, I believe dey wuz a smidget of bacon an' a 
 thumbnail' of pie," admitted Madison ungraciously. 
 
 "Haw ! haw ! haw !" laughed Cyrus vociferously, who 
 was standing on the porch near Cindy. 
 
 "There, that will do, Cindy," said Mr. Robertson, "and 
 Cyrus, you go on and get to work in that melon patch." 
 
 Cindy turned into the kitchen muttering, "I ain't gwine 
 
 43
 
 44 White and Black 
 
 to have no low-down, cawn-fiel' nigger a-lyin' 'bout me." 
 
 "That ,will do, Cindy," Mr. Robertson repeated, "and 
 now, Madison, what do you want?" 
 
 "I wants some money, dat's whut I wants." 
 
 "What do you want money for?" 
 
 "Waal, you knows, Mr. Will, de Juneteenth is mighty 
 nigh hyeer. An' I ain't got a frazzlin' cent." 
 
 "It's over a week till the nineteenth, and if I were 
 to give you any money, you would spend it before that 
 time and be asking for more." 
 
 "My ole 'ooman say she got to have a new dress, an* 
 she got to have time to make it. She ain't got nuthin' to 
 wear to de celebration." 
 
 "Where is the celebration going to be this year, Mad- 
 ison? The nineteenth comes on Sunday anyway." 
 
 "John Ramsey say he gwine to git up a celebration an* 
 have it on Saturday an' ax you for de little paschur' to 
 have it in." 
 
 "Well, he hasn't said anything to me about it." 
 
 "Naw, suh, but he is gwine to. He said you wuz sorter 
 mad de las' time he seed you." 
 
 "I was. It was enough to make anybody mad. I tell 
 you what I'll do, Madison, I'll give you a note to Mr. 
 Hiram Shorter, telling him to let your old woman have 
 the materials for a dress." 
 
 "And no money? Ain't you gwine to gim'me no 
 money ?" 
 
 "Well, you know you came out behind last year, and 
 I want to hold you down, so you will at least come out 
 even this year if you can." 
 
 "Waal, tell me dis, wouldn't I come out if it hadn't 
 ha' been for dat ar ten per cent.? Jes' tell me dat? I 
 knows all about dat ten per cent, de sto'-keepers adds on
 
 White and Black 45 
 
 for de landlords. You can't fool me, Mr. Will, nunck- 
 unh, you can't fool me." 
 
 "I'm not trying to fool you, and I think maybe you 
 would have just about come out if it hadn't been for that 
 ten per cent. But do you think I'm going to stand good 
 for all you niggers for nothing?" 
 
 "Waal, don't you git de rent, a f o'th of de cotton and a 
 third of de cawn? Whut do you call dat?" 
 
 "I call that impudence, that's what I call it. You get 
 out of here and get quick. Find you some other place to 
 live on. You don't get anything from me." And Mr. 
 Robertson walked into the house. 
 
 "Papa," said Bob, who was sitting in the hall as Mr. 
 Robertson came in, "oughtn't you to hit him over the 
 head with a scantling? Let me, I'll go out there and 
 beat him up." 
 
 "Shut up," said Mr. Robertson angrily. "When I need 
 your advice or help I'll call on you. Go upstairs, and 
 go to sleep." 
 
 Bob, crestfallen, began to mount the stairs, and Mr. 
 Robertson walked testily into the sitting-room, where for 
 some moments he paced back and forth excitedly. Then 
 he dropped into a chair at his desk and sat with drawn 
 brows, thinking, "It must be that I am afraid of Madison, 
 afraid of a nigger ! I could take a gun and go over there 
 to-morrow and kill him or beat him up. I wonder if that 
 don't explain why many niggers and white men, too 
 are shot. The shooter is scared, the one shot is the 
 stronger man. Anyhow, I've got to go over there to- 
 morrow, and I've got to take Bob with me. 
 
 "Or it may be that I think the ten per cent, is wrong 
 and that makes a coward out of me. Well, yes, that 
 may be. But every year some of them come out behind,
 
 46 White and Black 
 
 and if it wasn't for the ten per cent, where would I be? 
 But that's really putting a penalty on the good workers 
 to make up for the laziness of the shiftless. There's no 
 disguising that. Well, I'll talk it over with Mamie and 
 maybe with Brother Maxcy." 
 
 "Bob !" he called, "Bob ! Let's go fishing." 
 "All right, Papa," cried Bob, delighted, and came rush- 
 ing down the stairs. He had been sitting in his room 
 trying to reconcile his idea of his father's heroism with 
 the incident he had just witnessed. And he had been 
 having trouble. But now the thing would be explained. 
 
 As he reached the foot of the stairway, his father 
 said, "Come on, let's get the tackle. Your mother said 
 she wanted to drive into town this evening, so she can 
 take Sister Maxcy home."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 JOHN RAMSEY was waking up his oldest boy, aged thir- 
 teen, who was taking a noon-day nap on the uneven 
 boards of the porch floor. "Git up, Tom, git up," he was 
 saying, "we got to go to de fiel'. Come on, all you chil- 
 lun." 
 
 "But it's so hot, Pappy," said Tom, "less wait a while." 
 
 "Git up from dar," said John, "you lazy hound !" 
 
 "Whut's de rush, Papa?" asked Sally from where she 
 leaned back in a chair against the wall. 
 
 "We all got to git de crop cleaned out good if we 
 gwine to git Mr. Will to loan me de little paschur for de 
 celebration." 
 
 "Oh, you know he ain't gwine to loan it to no low- 
 down, triflin' nigger like you is," said Liza, his wife, an 
 emaciated mulatto with the curious sort of pallor on her 
 face that consumptive Negroes show. 
 . "Why don't you ax Mr. Joe Williams to ax him for 
 you ?" said Rosy. "Mr. Will'll do mighty nigh anything 
 for Mr. Williams." 
 
 "Hunh, dat ain't so bad, Rosy. I believes I will speak 
 to Brother Williams about de matter. Me an' him kin 
 put our heads togedder an* solve de problem." 
 
 "Solve yo' foot," said Liza. "You ain't never solved 
 nuthin' yit." 
 
 "Jes' watch me," said Sally, "I'll git Mr. Bob to git him 
 to loan it to us." 
 
 "Hunh, Mr. Bob wouldn't wipe his foot on you," said 
 Rosy. 
 
 47
 
 48 White and Black 
 
 "Wouldn't, hunh? Well, never you min'. I seen Mr. 
 Bob dis mawnin' an' he seen me," said Sally, tittering. 
 
 "You seen him ride thoo de fiel', dat's how you seen 
 him." 
 
 "Well, nemmine," retorted Sally, "I knows whut I 
 knows, an' it's somep'n you ain't gwine to find out." 
 
 "Whut you gim'me, Sally, not to tell?" asked Tom. 
 
 "Shut up yo' mouth, Tom, you don't know nuthin'." 
 But Sally made a private sign to him. 
 
 "Git a move on you," said Liza, "all of you. You got 
 to git dat crop clean. Dat's de bes' an' de onliest way 
 to git de loan of dat paschur, an' we boun' to have dat 
 celebration. Some other nigger'll git ahead of us if we 
 don't send de word around pretty quick." But there 
 was another hope in her eyes as she looked at Sally. 
 
 "Waal, why can't you come out dar an' he'p us, sorter 
 loan us yo' assistance?" asked John. 
 
 "Whut ! in dis hot sun !" exclaimed Liza. "Nigger, you 
 know I been too po'ly for de longes' to 'spose myse'f to 
 de sun." 
 
 "You ain't been too po'ly to 'spose yose'f to de moon- 
 shine," said John with some spirit. 
 
 "Waal, come on," said Sally, "an' less git at it." 
 
 "Pappy," asked Tom, "ain't dis de 'mancipation cele- 
 bration." 
 
 "Dat's whut it is," answered John. 
 
 "Waal, how come it " 
 
 "Waal, you see all of us cullud people used to be 
 slaves 'long fo' de war. An' some of dem white folks 
 up nawth, dey got tired of seein* we all b'longin' to our 
 white folks, 'cause dey say dey ain't treatin' us right, 
 and dey makin' too much money outen us. So Abe 
 Linkum and Gin'ral Grant an' George Washington
 
 White and Black 49 
 
 an' I speck Stonewall Jackson wuz dar too dey got to- 
 gedder, an' dey say, 'less set de niggers free, dey ain't 
 doin' us no good whar dey is, an' if we sets 'em free, 
 maybe some of 'em will come up nawth an' work for us.' 
 And, 'So mote it be,' said de rest of 'em. 
 
 "An' den de mogrification of de niggers sot in, an* 
 kep' agoin', spite of all our white folks down hyeer could 
 do. When you want to know somep'n, son, jes' ax yo* 
 pappy." 
 
 "But in de reader at de school house it say de cullud 
 folks wuz sot free in Jinuary. And hyeer we is havin* 
 de celebration in June. How come dat?" 
 
 "Waal, you see, our white folks down hyeer dey knowed 
 better'n dat. Dey said, 'No, we ain't gwine to have it 
 in Jinuary, 'cause whut's de use? De niggers can't have 
 no celebration in Jinuary, it's too cold, we gwine to put 
 it in June, so's dey'll be some sense to it." 
 
 "But," said Sally, "dat can't be, 'cause I read myse'f 
 dat it wuz in de whole Newnited States at de same time." 
 
 "In de Newnited States, yas," answered John, "but 
 you see, Sally, dis hyeer is Texas, an' Texas is mighty 
 diffunt from dem Newnited States." 
 
 "Unh-hunh," said Liza, "I been tellin' de chillun all 
 de time dat dis hyeer is Texas." 
 
 "Yes," said Rosy, "eve'ybody knows it's Texas, 'cep- 
 pin', maybe, Sally, an' she's so smart twell she don't 
 know nuthin'." 
 
 "Nemmine," answered Sally, "I knows somep'n you 
 don' know and you ain't gwine to find out." 
 
 "Humph !" answered Rosy with a toss of her head. 
 
 "But whar we gwine to git de money to buy de 'f resh- 
 ments for dat celebration?" asked Liza. 
 
 "Mr. Tony Peters say he'll let me have forty dollars
 
 50 White and Black 
 
 on my team," answered John, "an' you watch me, I'll 
 git ten dollars mo' outen Mr. Will. Dat'll buy a couple 
 of shotes and a yearlin' for de bobbycue, an' it'll leave 
 over plenty for de trimmin's." 
 
 "But whut if it rains?" asked Rosy. "It always do rain 
 on Juneteenth." 
 
 "Dat's jes' de way of it," said John. "Somebody is al- 
 ways a-th'owin' cold water on eve'ything I does." 
 
 Tom broke out in a boisterous laugh. 
 
 "Whut's de matter wid you?" asked John, turning on 
 him fiercely. 
 
 "Dey sho' will be a-pourin' cold water on it if it rains," 
 said Tom, "haw, haw, haw !" 
 
 "Shut up, nigger, I'll bus' you head open wid a swin- 
 gle-tree." And then he continued in a milder voice, "If 
 it don't rain, I'll sell dem fifty dollars' wuth of reefresh- 
 ments for mighty nigh a hunderd an' fifty dollars. Dat's 
 whut it is to be smart an' befo-handed !" 
 
 "Waal," said Liza, mollified by the bright financial 
 prospect, "git along out to de fiel', all of you, an' if I 
 ain't feelin' too po'ly I'll come out an' he'p you myse'f 
 to'ards de middle of de evenin'." 
 
 On the way to the field John said to Sally, "Nunck-unh, 
 Sally, I ain't gwine to cawnsult wid Brother Williams. 
 He's too havin'. De fus' thing I know he'll have dis 
 hyeer celebration for hisse'f, if I say too much to him 
 about it. Dey say he's a power in prayer over to de 
 Babtis' church, but I been studyin' 'bout dat, an' it's 'cause 
 he's tryin' to git so much outen de Lawd. He fair wras- 
 tles at de throne of grace a-tryin* to thow sand in de eyes 
 of de Lawd, but he can't fool me, nunck-unh !" 
 
 "Dat's whut Rosy said anyhow," answered Sally. "I 
 wouldn't pay no 'tention to it. An' look at dem Wil-
 
 White and Black 51 
 
 liams gals. Dey turns up dey noses ever time dey see 
 me and Rosy. Nunck-unh, dey's too good ! But if some- 
 p'n ner ain't gwine on 'tween dat long, black Babtis' 
 preacher an' Lucindy, den I miss my guess." 
 
 "You reckon?" asked John with lively interest. 
 
 "I'm mighty nigh sho' of it," answered Sally. "And 
 besides I done started to workin' on Mr. Bob." 
 
 "Waal," said John, "we got to start to workin' on dis 
 hyeer fiel' now, an' dat's all dey is to it."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THAT night after Mr. and Mrs. Robertson had retired 
 to their bed-room, he said, "Mamie, I've been thinking 
 about that ten per cent, that the merchants add on to the 
 tenants' accounts for us landlords, and I have been won- 
 dering if it is right." 
 
 "Goodness alive, Will!" she exclaimed, "you are not 
 thinking of knocking that off, when we need money 
 so badly and are trying to send Bob to college ?" 
 
 "Well, no, but I've just been wondering if it is right." 
 
 "When you begin to wonder if a thing is right, Will, 
 I know what you are getting ready to do. All the other 
 landlords add it on, don't they? And look what you 
 have lost on the niggers as it is. Everybody says that 
 the trouble with you is that you are too good to the 
 hands. And they don't appreciate it. Do they work any 
 better for you than they do for anybody else ? No. And 
 you are always giving them something, and knocking off 
 here and making allowance there, until there is mighty 
 little left for us." 
 
 "But, Mamie, don't you think it is putting a penalty 
 on the good workers for the laziness of the trifling 
 ones ?" 
 
 "Oh, it may be. I don't know, but we get little enough 
 as it is. And they ought to pay something to have you 
 stand for them. Why don't you quit standing for them, 
 anyway ?" 
 
 "Well, I've thought about that," said Mr. Robertson, 
 "but you know they would have the greatest trouble get- 
 
 52
 
 White and Black 53 
 
 ting any credit at all then. And many times when the 
 crops don't look good, the merchants don't let 'em have 
 half enough to eat. And then there's always trouble in 
 settling up at the end of the year. The merchant wants 
 me to let him have this bale of cotton and that bale of 
 cotton from this tenant and that tenant and everything 
 always gets into a stew. It's simpler when I take all the 
 cotton, pay the merchant what's coming to him, then take 
 out my rent share, and turn the balance over to the 
 tenant." 
 
 "Yes, Will dear, I know that, but the effect of it all is 
 that if there is any loss you bear it. You subordinate your 
 landlord's lien to the merchant's account, whereas the 
 law is that the landlord's lien for his rent comes first." 
 
 "Yes, that's so, Mamie, but the niggers are so poor and 
 ignorant, and I don't like to see the whole brunt of bad 
 seasons and insects and everything fall on them all the 
 time." 
 
 "Oh, Will, Will," she said ready to burst into tears, 
 "must we go on forever stinting and stinting and having 
 so little, just to protect some niggers who don't work half 
 of the time and who won't even drive a staple in a fence- 
 post for us unless we pay 'em twice what it's worth?" 
 
 "Most of 'em are mighty trifling," said Mr. Robertson. 
 "Especially when it comes to fixing up anything." 
 
 "And they could get on if they would work and save 
 and try," said Mrs. Robertson. "Look at Bob Barker 
 and the Washington boys and Uncle Peter Higgins, all 
 niggers, all of 'em, and they own their own places and 
 make good crops nearly every year. And they made it 
 all themselves. They started out as renters. Why can't 
 the others do as well? Because they are so lazy and 
 trifling, that's the whole reason."
 
 54 White and Black 
 
 "Yes, I reckon you are right," said Mr. Robertson, but 
 there was something in his tone that showed he was not 
 altogether convinced. Late in the night he lay awake 
 pondering. 
 
 Next morning at breakfast Mr. Robertson said, "Bob, 
 tell Cyrus to saddle up my horse and Saladin. I want 
 you to go down to the lower place with me this morning." 
 
 "All right, Papa," said Bob. "I was sorter counting 
 on going to town this morning, but " 
 
 "Will, you don't need him specially to go with you, do 
 you?" asked Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "Yes, I need him very specially," answered her hus- 
 band. 
 
 Riding along the edge of the creek bottom on their 
 way to the lower place Mr. Robertson and Bob passed 
 by the farm of Bob Barker. "You see," said Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, "Bob Barker has a good crop, and it is well 
 worked. He nearly always has a good crop. I've thought 
 about it a whole lot, and it must be because he is work- 
 ing for himself, and not for a landlord. It is a good 
 thing for a man, white or black, to be working for him- 
 self on his own land. Bob Barker makes at least twice 
 as much every year as any one of my tenants. It would 
 be the best plan, I think, for all the larger places to 
 be broken up, divided into small farms, and sold to 
 the tenants on easy terms." 
 
 "I don't know, Papa," said Bob, "the niggers would 
 own nearly this whole county then, and that wouldn't be 
 a good thing, would it?" 
 
 "No, but I believe the county would produce more if 
 every man owned the land that he worked and no 
 more."
 
 White and Black 55 
 
 "Well, look at Randy Shallow," answered Bob, "he 
 makes his place pay him good money, and why? He 
 stays right with his niggers and drives 'em all day long 
 and they do say he stays lots of nights, too," he ended 
 with a snigger. 
 
 "Bob, I am surprised at you," said Mr. Robertson. 
 "That's the shame of this whole county. And one of the 
 reasons why I want to send you to college is so that 
 you may prepare yourself for some profession that will 
 enable you to shake the dust of it off of your feet." 
 
 "There's no danger of that sort of thing with me," 
 said Bob. 
 
 "Well, son, I'm mighty glad to hear it, and I hope there 
 never will be." 
 
 When they reached the lower place, they rode straight 
 to the shack of Madison Mulberry, whom they found 
 just starting out to work. 
 
 "Good morning, Madison," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Good mawnin', Mr. Will." 
 
 "Stop, I want to talk to you." 
 
 "Whut you gwine to say to me, Mr. Will ?" 
 
 "Hold your mouth, and listen. Yesterday, you came 
 and asked me for some money. You asked me in such a 
 way that I couldn't have given it to you if I had wanted 
 to. You've got the name of a bad nigger, and I suppose 
 you thought you'd bl'uff me." 
 
 "Naw, suh, Mr. Will, I wuz jes' " 
 
 "Hold on till I get through. Did you ever shoot a man, 
 Madison ?" 
 
 "Yassuh, I shot one." 
 
 "Did you ever beat any up?" 
 
 "Yassuh, I beat up two niggers. Dey wuz "
 
 56 White and Black 
 
 "Never mind. Were you afraid of 'em?" 
 
 "Waal, suh, I wuzn't to say skeered of 'em. But I 
 wuz kinder skeered of whut dey wuz gvvine to do to me, 
 if I didn't do it fust. Whut you drivin' at, Mr. Will?" 
 
 "That's what I am driving at. The reason why I'm not 
 going to shoot you or beat you up, why I haven't done it 
 before this, is that I am not scared of what you are 
 going to do to me." 
 
 "Lawd, Mr. Will, you sho' is a kyuous man. I ain't 
 never thought " 
 
 "Don't lie to me, don't say another word. Go on to 
 your work." 
 
 Madison paused, then half turned irresolutely, then 
 said to his mule, "Git up, Moll, we got to bust out dem 
 middles." 
 
 "Come on, Bob," said Mr. Robertson, "we'll ride over 
 and see Sim Senter while we are here." 
 
 Bob followed joyfully, but still there was a feeling in 
 his mind that he would have been somehow better satis- 
 fied if his father had given Madison a sound thrashing 
 with his quirt. 
 
 Sim Senter was the only white tenant Mr. Robertson 
 had. He lived in a somewhat better house than the 
 Negro tenants, and acted sometimes as a sort of fore- 
 man when there was work on hand that required a gang 
 to do it, such as cleaning new ground or making hay. He 
 despised the Negroes, and they had an ill-concealed con- 
 tempt for him because he had "to work jes' like a nigger 
 an' wuzn't nuthin' but po' white trash." 
 
 He was mending a wagon with a piece of baling wire 
 when Mr. Robertson and Bob rode up, and a fringe of 
 lank-haired children culminating in Susie, his fourteen
 
 White and Black 57 
 
 year old girl, were sitting on the edge of the floor of the 
 front porch and swinging their bare feet and legs idly 
 while they gazed with a sort of vacant intentness at the 
 visitors and beyond them to the trees that shut out the 
 horizon. "Howdy, Mr. Will," Sim said, "howdy, Bob." 
 
 "Howdy, Sim," they answered. 
 
 "How's the crop, Sim?" asked Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Jes 5 fair to middlin, I reckon, Mr. Will. There's a 
 right smart sprinklin' of boll-weevils in my strip of cotton 
 down there by the timber, an' my corn looks like it is 
 tryin' to turn yaller on me spite of all I can do. But 
 I reckon it'll hold out maybe till the nineteenth. An' 
 we're sho' to have rain then, if not bef o'." 
 
 "Yes, it always rains on the nineteenth," said Bob. 
 
 "Sho' does," said Sim, "an' I'm mighty damn glad of 
 it. The crops needs it, an' all the niggers dressed up in 
 their finery gits a good wettin'." 
 
 "Sim, I don't think you ought to feel that way about 
 it," said Mr. Robertson, "let 'em have their fun." 
 
 "Well, if it was up to me," said Sim, "I'd give 'em 
 some fun. I'd let 'em see how funny it is to start to work 
 at sun-up eve'y mawnin' an' never quit till sun-down, an' 
 I'd be right behind 'em with a whup all the time. That'd 
 be my fun for 'em." 
 
 "Why, Sim, you must be in a bad humor this morning, 
 what have they been doing?" 
 
 "Turnin' in their stock on my corn," said Sim, "an' 
 swearin' they break out of the paschur. Me and my 
 oldest boy wuz up mighty nigh all last night drivin' old 
 Sam's cattle out of my corn." 
 
 "I'll have to see Uncle Sam and talk to him," said Mr. 
 Robertson. 
 
 "I wish you would, Mr. Will, an' you might throw in
 
 58 White and Black 
 
 a few words at Madison Mulberry while you are at it. 
 He is the wust one of 'em all. I'm goin' to fill some cows' 
 hides full of bird-shot, if not buckshot, hyeer before 
 long." 
 
 "What about the hay this year, Sim?" 
 
 "They's jes' one thing about the hay, Mr. Will, an' that 
 is, if I'm goin' to see to the cuttin' of it, I'm got to be boss. 
 Every nigger on the place has got to thinkin' that he's 
 the boss, an' I'm not goin' to stand it." 
 
 "I'll see to that," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "All right, Mr. Will, but I wish you would come into 
 the house an' take a look at my second boy. He's down 
 with somep'n sorter like dumb chills, an' it looks to me 
 like he's in a powerful bad fix. Part of the time he don't 
 know nuthin' at all." 
 
 "Has the doctor been out to see him yet ?" 
 
 "Waal, I took him into town to see the doctor day-be- 
 fo'-yestiddy, and he give him some medicine, but it don't 
 do him no good." 
 
 Mr. Robertson dismounted and went inside, where he 
 found Jim, a boy of sixteen, lying on a squalid bed, and 
 unconscious. 
 
 "Great goodness alive, Sim ! that's a sick boy," he said. 
 
 "Yes, I ain't been in my right mind for two or three 
 days a-worryin' about him," said Sim. "His mother, 
 she stayed up with him all last night, and she's in that 
 other room now tryin' to git a little sleep." 
 
 "Put your oldest boy on a horse right away, and send 
 'for a doctor," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "I would ha* done that yestiddy, Mr. Will, but the 
 doctors charge two dollars a visit and a dollar a mile 
 for mileage and they calls it five miles from town out
 
 White and Black 59 
 
 hyeer. And you know that's mighty hard on a pore man, 
 Mr. Will." 
 
 "Yes, but you haven't got time to think about that now. 
 You've got to save your boy. If you can't pay the doctor, 
 I'll pay him." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Will, I'll send Harry right now." 
 
 He went out into the yard and called, "Harry ! Harry ! 
 Harry !" but there was no answer. Coming back he said, 
 "Wait a minute, I'll blow the horn for him," and reached 
 up to get from the wall a long and carefully polished 
 steer's horn which hung by a string from a nail. 
 
 "No, wait," said Mr. Robertson, "you'll wake up Mrs. 
 Senter so she won't be able to go back to sleep again. 
 I'll send Bob." 
 
 Then going to the porch he said, "Bob, ride into town 
 as fast as you can and tell Dr. Anderson to come right 
 out here in a hurry. Jim's mighty sick." 
 
 "All right, Papa, but s'pose Dr. Anderson has gone fish- 
 ing." 
 
 "Yes, that's very likely, the only good doctor there is, 
 and he spends two-thirds of his time fishing and hunt- 
 ing. But that's the way we do things here! Well, if 
 you can't find him, tell Dr. Bolton, he's better than noth- 
 ing." 
 
 Bob left in a lope. 
 
 Turning back into the room, Mr. Robertson said, "Sim, 
 if we pull Jim through or if we don't you must screen 
 this house. You know I've offered to furnish you the 
 wire many a time. Your family can't have any health 
 with millions of flies and mosquitoes in the house all of 
 the time." 
 
 "They are pretty bad, but shuckins! Mr. Will, ain't
 
 60 White and Black 
 
 we all grovved up with flies and mosquitoes? You got a 
 wire door slammin' all the time, an' you can't even spit 
 out of a window when you put them screens over ever'- 
 thing." 
 
 "Well, the flies and mosquitoes bring typhoid and mala- 
 ria into the house all of the time." 
 
 "That's what they say now-a-days, Mr. Will, but we 
 know better'n that. Them doctors now-a-days is always 
 gittin' up some new-fangled notions to cost money. Dr. 
 Anderson was raisin' sand hyeer not long ago 'cause I ain't 
 got my privy half a mile from the well. I reckon he wants 
 all of us to walk around for exercise. We git plenty of 
 that chasin' up and down the cotton-rows." 
 
 "Well, you don't want the screens then?" 
 
 "Naw, suh, I don't want 'em. But if you say so, I 
 might screen some of the windows." 
 
 "What good'll that do if you don't screen 'em all ?" 
 
 "It won't do no good. If I wuz to screen 'em all, it 
 wouldn't do no good, and ever' time you bring in a load 
 of wood you got to contend with them damn slammin' 
 wire doors, but I'll screen some of 'em jus' to please you, 
 Mr. Will." 
 
 "No, you needn't mind," said Mr. Robertson, feeling 
 that further insistence would be useless, as at best it 
 could only result in exacting a promise that would never 
 be carried out. 
 
 He continued, "I'll go over to Uncle Sam's and drop 
 back by here when the doctor comes." 
 
 "Waal, don' forgit to tell him about them cattle," said 
 Sim. 
 
 "All right, I won't," said Mr. Robertson, taking his 
 departure.
 
 White and Black 6r 
 
 He found Uncle Sam, an old Negro of seventy-five,, 
 giving his corn its last plowing. The stalks were higher 
 than Uncle Sam's head. Indeed he and his mule were 
 visible only when they came out at the end of a row. 
 As Mr. Robertson approached, he was just coming out 
 and made a picture, comic or pathetic, depending upon 
 the disposition of the beholder. 
 
 He was tall and gaunt, and bent by years of toil. His 
 gray, woolly beard looked almost white against the black 
 background of his face. An old, flopping, wide-brimmed, 
 dingy felt hat, ragged overalls and jumper, and shapeless 
 brogan shoes constituted his costume. His gait was stiff 
 and halting. 
 
 "Hi, Uncle Sam," called Mr. Robertson, seeking to 
 attract his attention before he should turn back into an- 
 other row. 
 
 Uncle Sam seemed to gaze at him quite calmly and 
 as calmly turned his mule to start back. Mr. Robertson 
 spurred up his horse and came quickly quite close up to 
 him. "What's the matter, Uncle Sam," he asked, laugh- 
 ing, "aren't you speaking to me these days?" 
 
 "Lawd, Mr. Will. I axes your pahdon !" he exclaimed. 
 "I took you for dat ar liniment man, an' I wuzn't gwine 
 to pay you no mind." 
 
 "What liniment man?" 
 
 "Come along a man yestiddy wanted to sell me a bottle 
 of liniment for dis old mule. Wanted me to give him a 
 dollar for it. I told him naw, dis mule'll last long as I 
 will, and to git out of hyeer. But I couldn't hardly git 
 shed of him noway. An' he say he gwine to come back 
 to-day an' sell me dat ar liniment willy-nilly. But how 
 is you, Mr. Will?"
 
 62 White and Black 
 
 "Thank you, I'm well, Uncle Sam." 
 
 "And how is Miss Mamie? I ain't seed her in a long 
 time." 
 
 "She is well, too, thank you." 
 
 "And Mr. Bob, I reckon he is all right?" 
 
 "Yes, he is all right, too, but how are you getting on ?" 
 
 "Waal, suh, I would be gittin' on fine if it wuzn't for 
 dis hyeer misery in my leg. Sometimes it gits me in de 
 knee and den agin it ketches me in de hip-jint. An' it 
 draws me so, Mr. Will, dat's whut I hates, it draws me 
 so." 
 
 "Well, Uncle Sam, you mustn't work too hard. You 
 are getting too old now. Your boys ought to do this 
 work for you." 
 
 "Yassuh, dey he'ps me, but I kinder likes to give my 
 cawn de las' plowin' myse'f. I ain't long for dis worl', 
 Mr. Will, an' de chances is maybe I won't be plowin' 
 hyeer next year, but I'll be praisin' de Lawd up yonder." 
 
 "No, Uncle Sam, don't talk that way. We will keep you 
 going for a good many years yet. But you'd better stop 
 work for this morning. There's no rush about this corn." 
 
 "Jes' as you say, Mr. Will. I 'speck I'll have time to 
 run aroun' it soon of mawnin's and late of evenin's any- 
 how." 
 
 "Oh, you will have plenty of time. If you don't I'll 
 make some of the others come and finish it up for you. 
 But how is Aunt Hannah getting on?" 
 
 "Speakin' ginerally, Mr. Will, you mout say Hannah 
 ain't no 'count. She's plumb wo' out, whut wid de rheu- 
 matiz an' de skiracter an' one thing another, you mout 
 say she is wo' out." 
 
 "How many children has she had, Uncle Sam? I 
 forget."
 
 White and Black 63 
 
 "Hannah is de mammy of fo'teen head of chillun, Mr. 
 Will, 'leven livin' and three dead. An' whut's mo', I is 
 de daddy of 'em all'." 
 
 "Looks to me like you'd be wo' out too hunh ? Uncle 
 Sam?" 
 
 "Lawd, Mr. Will, you always is de man for yo' joke, 
 but I'm putty good yit. Haw, haw, haw ! I sho' is for a 
 fac'." 
 
 "Well, what's this I hear about your cows getting into 
 Mr. Senter's corn?" 
 
 "Lawd, Mr. Will, de cows did git aroun' and eat a 
 little off de edges of his cawn patch. But it wuz his boy 
 Harry lef de paschur gate open. He's always runnin' 
 roun' nights atter de gals. An' he don't keer nuthin' 
 'bout gates." 
 
 "Well, I don't know how that is," said Mr. Robertson, 
 "but try to keep the cows shut up, so there won't be any 
 trouble, Uncle Sam. And we are going to begin making 
 hay before long. And I want you to tell your boys to 
 mind Mr. Senter just the same as if it was me." 
 
 "Yassuh, Mr. Will, I'll tell 'em, an' dey'll do it, but 
 I ain't sayin' it won't go agin de grain. Dey's a way to 
 do eve'ything, Mr. Will, an' it looks like dese hyeer po' 
 white folks never kin happen on it. Somehow or nuther 
 dey goes at it de wrong way." 
 
 "That's all right," said Mr. Robertson, "but it is neces- 
 sary for me to have Mr. Senter as the foreman of the 
 hay gang, and I expect all the hands to mind him till 
 that is over." 
 
 "Yassuh, my boys'll mind him. If dey is all married 
 an' makin' a crop for deyselves, dey'll do whut I tells 'em, 
 if two of 'em is been off to de War." 
 
 "I know they will, Uncle Sam, that's why I am telling
 
 ^4 White and Black 
 
 you about it and saving myself the trouble of going around 
 to see them separately. But why should there be such a 
 rucus about minding Mr. Senter? It's no disgrace to be 
 poor. If so, what sort of shape would you be in your- 
 self?" 
 
 "Lawd, Mr. Will, you know better'n dat. I is a nigger, 
 an' it's natchul for a nigger to be po'. An' it don't make 
 no diffunce if a white man ain't got no money. De 
 question is, is his folks ever had anything? If dey ain't, 
 den good-by, he jes' don't know how." 
 
 "Well, there may be something in that," said Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, laughing, "but I want all of you to bear in mind 
 that Mr. Senter is your boss in that hay-making. Go 
 home and put up your mule now and rest till about four 
 o'clock this evening. Here's a little tobacco money to 
 spend next time you go to town." He pitched Uncle Sam 
 a fifty cent piece. 
 
 "Thank'ee, thank'ee kindly, Mr. Will," said Uncle Sam 
 as he stooped rustily to pick up the money, and Mr. Rob- 
 ertson turned his horse to go. 
 
 After riding about to get a general view of the crops, 
 Mr. Robertson made his way back to Sim Senter's house. 
 Doctor Anderson was there. Fortunately Bob had met 
 him on the way, bound for a lake that was not far from 
 the lower place. There he had intended to spend the next 
 two days fishing. 
 
 Mr. Robertson called him aside and asked him what he 
 thought of the patient. "Well, he is a mighty sick boy," 
 answered the doctor. "I should say malaria with some 
 typhoid symptoms, and possibly hematuria, with enlarge- 
 ment of the spleen. I have taken some of his blood to 
 send to the city for a test. I'll know better how to 
 treat him when they wire me the result to-morrow."
 
 White and Black 6$ 
 
 "You think he is in danger, then ?" 
 
 "Yes, he is in serious danger, but of course we may pull 
 him through." 
 
 "Well, do all you can, doctor," said Mr. Robertson. 
 "I am standing behind Sim as far as expenses are con- 
 cerned." 
 
 "That's all right, Will, but it is not necessary. I'll take 
 my chances on Sim. He is honest and will pay if he ever 
 gets the money, but of course he will grumble a good 
 deal. I'd spend some money myself to get this house 
 screened and that privy and horse-lot moved further away 
 from the well." 
 
 "Well, let us hope that this sickness will at least bring 
 Sim to reason about those things." 
 
 "But it won't," said the doctor, spreading out both of 
 his hands in a gesture of hopelessness. 
 
 Bob had gotten off his horse and was sitting in the 
 shade of a large cottonwood tree by Sim's hog-pen, which 
 was a little way outside of Sim's front yard. Harry, a 
 boy of twenty, and Sim's eldest, came riding up. "Well, 
 how's mama this mawnin' ?" he said to Bob, and grinned. 
 
 "Shut up," said Bob, blushing. 
 
 "Is that her apern string you've got tied round yo'" 
 neck?" he asked, pointing to Bob's tie. 
 
 "Look'ee here, now," answered Bob, "I've had enough 
 of that. And I'd beat hell out of you, if your brother 
 wasn't about to die in there." 
 
 "Oh, he said hell," chuckled Harry, "ain't he gittin' 
 bad?" 
 
 "Harry, come hyeer this minute. Where you been?"' 
 called Sim. 
 
 "Whut you want?" answered Harry. 
 
 "Jim's about to die," Sim's voice was grief-stricken..
 
 66 White and Black 
 
 "Is that so, Papa, I'm a-comin'," and Harry jumped 
 from his horse and went running to the porch. "Is he 
 took wuss, Papa?" 
 
 "Yes, there's the doctor and Mr. Will in the back of 
 the hall there. And they've took blood out of him, 
 Harry." 
 
 "Where's Mama?" 
 
 "She's in the room now with Jim." 
 
 "You reckon I'd better go in there ?" 
 
 "No, but you're to go back to town with the doctor 
 and bring some medicine." 
 
 "Where's Susie?" 
 
 "She's back there fixin' to git ready to try to git some 
 dinner. But I know she is goin' to make a mighty pore 
 out at it, but yo' mama says she is wo' out, an' Susie 
 will jes' have to do the best she kin." 
 
 "Somethin' is always happenin' to us," exclaimed Harry, 
 "an' them damn Robertsons, don't nuthin' ever happen 
 to them." 
 
 "Shut up yo' mouth," answered Sim, angrily. "They 
 never wuz no better man than Mr. Will." 
 
 "Ridin' roun' hyeer and lordin' it over us all of the 
 time," answered Harry, as a tear rolled down his cheek. 
 "I wush it was that damn little mother-coddlin' baby that's 
 settin' out yonder under that tree, 'stead of Jim." 
 
 "Hush, Harry, whut's got into you ?" 
 
 "Hell's got into me, that's whut's got into me. Hyeer 
 last' year Sister Mary died, an' we're jus' so damn pore 
 an' don't know nuthin' an' can't do nuthin' an' never have 
 nuthin'." He struggled to choke back a sob. 
 
 Dr. Anderson and Mr. Robertson came out to the 
 porch. "Come on, Harry, if you are going to town with 
 me," said the doctor.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 WHILE Mr. Robertson and Bob were away from home 
 that morning, Cindy took the opportunity of consulting 
 with Miss Mamie about a matter of importance. 
 
 "You know, Miss Mamie," she said, "I been thinkin,' 
 a whole lot hyeer lately." 
 
 "What about, Cindy?" 
 
 "Waal, Cyrus, he keep a-pesterin' me till it looks like 
 I can't have no peace." 
 
 "What's Cyrus bothering you about now ?" 
 
 "Waal, 'um, he wants me to marry him." 
 
 "I should think you'd be glad of that. He and you 
 ought to have married long ago." 
 
 "How's dat, Miss Mamie?" and Cindy tittered. 
 
 "You have been living with him for a year or more, 
 Cindy, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself." 
 
 "Yassum, I is when I thinks about it sometimes, an* 
 den I says to myse'f I don't know. You see, Miss Mamie, 
 it's dis a-way. If you is livin' wid a man an' he gits 
 mean an' you ain't married to him, you kin tell him to light 
 out, you done lost yo' tas'e for 'im. But if you is married 
 to him, why den, Miss Mamie, you sorter b'longs to 
 'im, an' whut you gwine to do?" 
 
 "Yes, Cindy, but aren't you a member of the church ?" 
 
 "Yassum, I's a member. I been a strong Babtis' for 
 de longest. But dat's one thing, an' marryin' is another. 
 No'm, I don't dance an' I don't go gaddin' roun' hyeer 
 atter all de men like some of dese women. I don't never 
 work on Sunday 'ceppen jes' to cook yo' meals, an' I 
 
 67
 
 <68 White and Black 
 
 shouts at eve'y meetin' and cawntributes to de church 
 regular. But when it comes to gittin' tied to a nigger 
 like Cyrus, I don't know. Maybe I won't like him long, 
 an' den maybe I will. How kin anybody tell?" 
 
 "But had you ever thought, Cindy, that he would be 
 tied to you, too? As it is now, 'most any woman might 
 come along and get him any time." 
 
 "None of 'em better not come pesterin' 'round Cyrus, 
 Miss Mamie. I tell you, dey better not." 
 
 "But suppose he decides he wants to marry, and if 
 you won't marry him, he'll have to try to find some- 
 tody else." 
 
 "Yassum, dey's somep'n in dat, he mout slip off an' 
 do it, but looks like I can't git no confidence in Cyrus 
 somehow. He's been argyfyin' an' argyfyin' wid me, 
 but I don' believe mo' 'n half of whut dat nigger tells 
 me. He say he want to marry an' settle down. But like 
 it is now, my wages is mine, an' I make Cyrus gi' me 
 part of his'n. But whut if we wuz to marry an' settle 
 down, den it mout be dat his wages would be his'n an' 
 he'd take mine, too. 'Let well enough alone' ain't sich 
 a bad rule, Miss Mamie. And lots of folks is married 
 -dat ain't doin' well. An' den sometimes Cyrus is so 
 proud of hisse'f about bein' off at de War I has to take 
 .him down strong." 
 
 "But certainly if you would speak to your pastor, Cindy, 
 he'd tell you that it is your duty to marry Cyrus." 
 
 "Lawd, Miss Mamie, you can't tell me nuthin' about 
 nigger preachers. I knows 'em." 
 
 "But some of 'em must be good," said Mrs. Robert- 
 eon. 
 
 "Yassum, some of 'em is good all right, but mostly dey
 
 White and Black 69 
 
 is preachers inside de pulpit an' men folks outside. An 1 
 you never kin tell till you is tried 'em out." 
 
 "Have you tried any of 'em out, Cindy ?" 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha! Is I, Miss Mamie?" Cindy laughed 
 vociferously and bridled with a remembrance of former 
 triumphs. 
 
 "Oh, Cindy, I don't know what is ever going to become 
 of all you black folks!" said Mrs. Robertson sadly, but 
 yet with some lurking amusement in her eyes. 
 
 "No'm, dey ain't no tellin'," said Cindy. 
 
 "That's one thing that is the matter with you, down in 
 your hearts you think there is no use, but why don't you 
 try, really try, to live better? You must remember that 
 Christ died for you as well as for the white folks." 
 
 "Yassum, dat's so," said Cindy, "an' I reckon I'll haf 
 to marry Cyrus." Her face clouded up, but after a 
 moment came a gleam of brightness, as she added, "If he 
 gits too mean, I kin git me a divo'ce, if it do cost twenty- 
 five dollars. Yassum, I kin do dat." 
 
 "Oh, Cindy!" said Mrs. Robertson, hopelessly. But 
 then she smiled. "You better run along now and start 
 dinner, so as to have it ready by the time Mr. Will and 
 Mr. Bob get back."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 Two days, Saturday and Sunday, passed by and it was 
 Monday, the thirteenth of June, and John Ramsey had 
 not screwed his courage to the point of asking for the 
 loan of the little pasture. But he and his tribe had worked 
 hard in the cotton and corn during the week days, even 
 on Saturday afternoon, and at night he had stirred about 
 with such energy that already arrangements were made 
 to buy two shotes from Madison Mulberry and a yearling 
 from Joe Williams, and a chattel mortgage on his team 
 had been given to Mr. Tony Peters for forty dollars, 
 which John buried in a baking-powder can under his corn 
 crib. Word had also been sent out to all of the Negroes. 
 
 "If I gits de 'rangements made," said John to himself, 
 "befo' I tells Mr. Will, he'll be 'most sho' to let me have 
 de paschur, 'cause he'll hate to bust up my 'rangements." 
 
 At eight o'clock in the morning Mr. Robertson and Bob 
 were inspecting John's crop from the slight roadway that 
 led along the edge of the field across the railroad to the 
 big pasture. 
 
 John, Sally, and the three boys were making the grass 
 fly at the far end of the field. 
 
 "He has certainly made fine headway here in the past 
 few days," said Mr. Robertson, "he must want something 
 or have some sort of special scheme on foot." 
 
 "It will have something to do with the Nineteenth, I 
 expect," said Bob. 
 
 "I reckon so," answered Mr. Robertson, "but you can 
 run along now to the pasture and take a squint at the 
 
 70
 
 White and Black 71' 
 
 cattle and fences, and I'll go on to town." Accordingly 
 they separated, turning their horses' heads in opposite 
 directions. 
 
 Much went on inside of Bob that was not betrayed by 
 anything he said or did in the presence of his father or 
 mother. Just then as he rode along, his mind was dwell- 
 ing on his encounter with Harry Senter, and his thoughts 
 ran, "If a feller tries to be decent and gentlemanly, they 
 call him a mama's boy. They think I'm scared to do 
 anything. I'll show 'em. I'm goin' to whip hell out of 
 that Harry Senter, if it's the last thing I do. And I'm 
 goin' to break loose. I'm tired of bein' pinned down all 
 of the time. If ever I start out from home, night or day, 
 it's, 'Where are you going, Bob? What are you going 
 to do? When are you coming back?' They think I'm 
 about six years old, that's what they think !" 
 
 He crossed the railroad right of way, opened the gate 
 on the other side and rode into the pasture. 
 
 From the far end of the field a pair of eyes watched him 
 with consuming interest. Those eyes belonged to Sally. 
 "Had I better go now or wait a while?" she asked herself. 
 Then she added, "Hunh, it's best to be sho'. He might 
 spen' a lot of time ridin' aroun' de paschur, an' den agin 
 he might not. Anyway out dar I'll be restin', and hyeer 
 I is a-workin*. An' if he comes soon or late, I'll be on 
 de spot." 
 
 She dropped her hoe, slipped through the fence, stole 
 across the railroad track, down the other side, through 
 the fence there and its fringe of bushes and high weeds, 
 and came out on the comparatively open bank of the 
 swimming-hole, where was a luxuriant growth of Ber- 
 muda grass. Across this she went to the edge of the 
 water, pulled off her old battered straw hat, and dropped
 
 72 White and Black 
 
 it to the ground. The rest of her garb consisted of a one- 
 piece dress made of rather heavy gingham and buttoned 
 down the back. She reached back and unbuttoned this, 
 apparently having it in mind to plunge in and take a swim. 
 She was already bare-footed, as she wore no shoes while 
 working in the field. 
 
 But if she had intended to take a swim, her mind 
 changed, for she sat down under the shade of an over- 
 hanging ash tree and merely dabbled her dusty feet in 
 the water. Through the sparse foliage above her the sun 
 played hide and seek with the bronze of her dripping 
 feet and the pale gold of her glistening shoulder disclosed 
 by the slipping of her unbuttoned dress. One standing 
 close behind her and looking over, would have seen that 
 her heart was beating tempestuously. 
 
 Bending far back, she reached for the hat where it had 
 fallen. "I better put dis hat somewhar now," she thought, 
 and carefully crushed it down close to the trunk of the 
 tree. 
 
 Bob found his yearling well and frisky, and engaged 
 in the exchange of butting amenities with another mem- 
 ber of the small herd. In riding along the fence he halted 
 at a shady spot to watch the birth of a calf from old 
 Brindle, one of the milking cows, and further along the 
 begetting of another on the body of a restive heifer. Such 
 sights were not unusual in the pasture, but always had 
 for him a singular fascination, and produced in him a 
 pleasurable perturbation. 
 
 This time, queerly, the heat of his mind was tempered 
 by the recollection of his conversion during the preceding 
 summer. The scene came back to him vividly of Brother 
 Maxcy's warm hand-clasp at the chancel rail, of his moth- 
 er's tearfully happy embrace, of the many members crowd-
 
 White and Black 73 
 
 ing around to welcome him into the fold, of his father's 
 shy look of rejoicing, and of the demure excitement in 
 the moist glance of Minnie Deane. He remembered his 
 elation mingled with a sense of wonder whether anything 
 had really happened to him to justify all of that stir. But 
 at any rate his father and mother were greatly pleased, 
 and he would not have to keep up any longer that con- 
 stant mental resistance to the pleas of hymn and sermon 
 to come and be saved. And then his embarrassment after 
 he came out of the church under the eyes of many of his 
 acquaintances who were still technically sinners ! How 
 quickly he had fled to the family car as a sort of sanc- 
 tuary ! 
 
 And since then there had been a feeling of stiffness and 
 estrangement in his intercourse with many of his school- 
 mates. He felt somehow that he had always to be on the 
 defensive. And Harry Senter was not the only one who 
 had thrown gibes at him. ''Bob is so damned good butter 
 wouldn't melt in his mouth," had said some of them. And 
 at the railroad station or post-office men would some- 
 times break off in the middle of stories that they were 
 telling to interested groups when he approached. And 
 there would be a quizzical look in their eyes as they 
 glanced at him. But there were others who seemed to 
 make a special point of uttering the grossest obscenities 
 in his presence and of laughing at his blushes. And he 
 always had an unpleasant feeling that he blushed more 
 because he knew they expected him to blush than because 
 he really was ashamed to hear. But, too, he truly had 
 experienced shame at the grossness, though it had about 
 it a certain attractiveness, because somehow it seemed 
 free and unrestricted. 
 
 "That's what's the matter," he muttered, half sighing
 
 74 White and Black 
 
 as his mind came back to the here and now. "I want a 
 little freedom. I'm mortally tired of being always cooped 
 
 up" ^- 
 
 Petulantly he spurred Saladin, who, surprised at the 
 abrupt dig, swerved so suddenly as almost to unseat him. 
 
 "Damn you!" exclaimed Bob, "I'll teach you," and 
 greatly to his own surprise he found himself uttering 
 a string of oaths and beating Saladin over the head with 
 his quirt. Saladin reared and pitched. "I'll ride you! 
 I'll ride you!" Bob shouted. 
 
 Then it was as if he came to himself. He dropped his 
 quirt and calmed the horse gently. "Whoa, Saladin, 
 whoa-a-a, old feller. Did I abuse you ? Didn't treat you 
 right, did I ? Whoa, whoa, now," and he patted the horse 
 gently on the neck. 
 
 When Saladin was quieted, Bob got down, picked up 
 the quirt, mounted again, and rode on, thinking, "What 
 in the world came over me?" But then he smiled, say- 
 ing, "I can manage Saladin whatever he does." And then 
 after a moment, "I shore did break loose !" In him there 
 was a feeling of triumph. 
 
 On around the fence he rode until he came to where it 
 crossed Berry Creek, from which point it ran along the 
 far side, enclosing a stretch of the stream in the pas- 
 ture to afford a supply of water for the cattle. Bob fol- 
 lowed the near bank of the creek, looking across at the 
 fence from time to time. 
 
 As he neared the swimming-hole, his mind reverted to 
 Sally and the incident of a few days before. The element 
 of comedy in it must have come uppermost in his mind, 
 for he smiled at the recollection. But it was an adven- 
 ture, too, and he thought, "I believe I'll try it again just 
 to see what will happen."
 
 White and Black 75 
 
 As before, he dismounted, hitched Saladin to a sapling, 
 walked to the bank of the creek, sat down, and pulled 
 off his shoes and socks. From near at hand came a 
 smothered cry, "He'p, he'p, I'se drowndin'." 
 
 Sally, screened from his observation by the trunk of 
 the ash tree, had wriggled out of her dress and slipped 
 quietly into the water. 
 
 Bob rushed barefooted to the rescue. He waded out, 
 caught hold of the yellow hands waving above the sur- 
 face, and pulled vigorously until he could get a grip on 
 the arms and lift the head that remained stubbornly under 
 the water. He saw it was Sally, and came near to letting 
 go his hold. He was in a quandary, but there was noth- 
 ing to do except drag her out on the bank. 
 
 She appeared almost lifeless, so limp was she. He 
 half carried, half dragged her to the spot of luxuriant 
 Bermuda grass, let her fall prone upon it, and began to 
 work her arms back and forth, as he had somewhere heard 
 should be done with half-drowned people. She seemed 
 hard to resuscitate, her breath came but gaspingly, and 
 something was the matter with his own breathing. 
 
 "This will never do," he said half aloud, "I must get 
 some help." His eye fell on Sally's discarded dress. He 
 let go her hands and was in the act of turning to get the 
 dress to spread over her while he should run and call for 
 assistance. 
 
 But suddenly he felt his bare foot clasped, and heard, 
 "Mr. Bob, Mr. Bob, don't leave me!" 
 
 When he did leave her, he rode back across the rail- 
 road and along the edge of John Ramsey's field in a sort 
 of exultant, abashed, and remorseful amazement.
 
 76 White and Black 
 
 From a little distance down a row, John waved his hand 
 and called, "Hello, Mr. Bob !" 
 
 But to Bob, John Ramsey had taken on a new aspect. 
 For the first time in his life he felt the need to think 
 before answering a salutation from John. In his mind 
 there was an apprehension lest the simple greeting be- 
 trayed unwonted and disrespectful familiarity. But in a 
 moment he reflected that in fact it was the same greeting 
 as always and uttered in the same cheerful manner. And 
 there flashed through his brain the steadying thought, 
 "How could John know !" 
 
 So he waved back, "Hello, John!" And he added as 
 a further evidence of composure, "Mighty hot this morn- 
 ing, but you are making the grass fly." 
 
 "I sho' is, Mr. Bob. But you got yo' pants wet. Is 
 you been wadin' de creek?" 
 
 "No, it's nothing," said Bob glibly. "I just slipped in." 
 And he spurred Saladin to a lope. 
 
 When he reached home, his father was again sitting 
 on the front porch reading the morning paper. Bob hoped 
 he might get by him unperceived. At any rate it was 
 better to risk it than to take the chance of riding around 
 to the back and running the gauntlet of Cyrus, Cindy, and 
 probably his mother. And maybe his father wouldn't 
 notice the dampness of his trousers after all, as the sun 
 had nearly dried them. 
 
 "Well, Bob?" said his father. 
 
 "Old Brindle has got a new calf, Papa." 
 
 "That's good. But your breeches are wet. Did you 
 fall in the creek?" 
 
 It popped into Bob's mind and he said, but with some 
 confusion, "I went to water Saladin and my quirt dropped
 
 White and Black 77 
 
 into the creek, and I had to ride deeper to get it than 
 I expected." And he hurried into the house. 
 
 Mr. Robertson thought, "The quirt is loaded and would 
 have sunk immediately. And his shoes have not been wet, 
 and why the hurry ? Why the confusion ?" 
 
 Then he rose and himself led Saladin to the water 
 trough at the rear. The horse drank greedily. "This 
 horse has had no water since leaving home this morn- 
 ing," he said to himself, his brows knitted in thought, 
 "I wonder." 
 
 When Sally came back to the field, she said to John, 
 "We gwine to git de paschur all right. You kin ax him 
 any time now." 
 
 "Nunck-unh," said John, "you can't fool me wid your 
 big talk. You wuzn't keerin' nuthin' about no paschur 
 anyhow. We got to clean out dis fieF. Git to it !" 
 
 But Sally pitched her hoe into the rank growth of big 
 weeds by the branch, and with a toss of her head started 
 to the house. 
 
 "Waal, I 'clar to goodness, she must ha'," said John.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE store of Thompson & Co. faced east. In the after- 
 noon the wooden gallery in front of it was shady. Mr. 
 Hiram Shorter was fond of company and of talk, so he 
 had placed a wooden bench and two or three empty 
 cracker-boxes on this gallery, and there was always a 
 chair or so in the doorway of the store. 
 
 On the afternoon of the sixteenth the congregation of 
 porch gossipers consisted of Mr. Hiram Shorter himself, 
 Mr. Robertson, Brother Maxcy, Judge Mowry, a law- 
 yer and the skeptic of the town, Mr. Tony Peters, Randy 
 Shallow, Dr. Anderson, and Bob Randell and Mr. Prouty, 
 who never had amounted to much and who now sat on 
 the edge of the floor and leaned against the gallery posts, 
 and two poor whites from the piney woods who squatted 
 on their haunches out in front. 
 
 "I just finished reading a book yesterday on the nigger 
 question written by a man in Boston," said Judge Mowry, 
 "of all the rot ! It was the damnedest I beg your pardon, 
 Brother Maxcy, but there ain't no weaker word that'll do 
 it justice the damnedest stuff!" 
 
 "Just about the usual thing, I reckon," said Mr. Hiram. 
 
 "Well, yes, and then some," said Judge Mowry. "Any- 
 body would think from readin* it that we spend all of 
 our time down here lynchin' niggers." 
 
 "The only trouble that I see," said Mr. Prouty, chang- 
 ing his tobacco to his other jaw, "is that we don't lynch 
 enough of 'em." 
 
 One of the piney woods men, Zeke Stallins, with his 
 
 78
 
 White and Black 79 
 
 left hand pulled out his lower lip, and into the cavity 
 thus formed he poured with his right about half a box 
 of snuff. The other one said in answer to Mr. Prouty, 
 "Now you're shoutin'." 
 
 "Zeke, don't you take a lot of snuff at one time ?" asked 
 Brother Maxcy smiling. 
 
 "Yas, Parson, I always b'lieve in bein' liberal with 
 myse'f . Ptui !" he answered solemnly. 
 
 "That trait, I observe, is a very common one," said 
 Brother Maxcy. 
 
 "Well, it's the only way to git ahead," said Randy Shal- 
 low. "I've noticed that these fellers that are so liberal 
 with everybody else is always in debt to their creditors." 
 And he cast a glance at Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Specially with niggers," said Mr. Tony Peters. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," said Mr. Hiram, "I'd as soon trust 
 a nigger as a white man. I'd rather trust some of 'em. 
 They'll pay you if they ever get the money." 
 
 "But I ain't got time to wait on 'em always," said 
 Tony Peters. "I let 'em have money on their stock, but 
 if they don't pay when their time is up, I go and git the 
 stock. That little new whipper-snapper in the bank asked 
 me if I wuzn't goin' to foreclose and sue and git judg- 
 ment and advertise and sell' and all that when Bill Haw- 
 kins' note fell due last month on his team. I told him I 
 knew somethin' to beat that, I'd jus' go out and git 
 the team. And I done it, an' I notified the clerk to mark 
 the mortgage released. Of course if it had have been 
 one of Will Robertson's niggers, I would have gone to 
 Will and got the money, and the nigger never would 
 have paid Will, ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 "Oh, some of 'em pay me," said Mr. Robertson, em- 
 barrassed.
 
 8o White and Black 
 
 "Well, at any rate," hastened Brother Maxcy to the 
 rescue, "a nigger is a human being and ought to be treated 
 like one." 
 
 "Sometimes I think they are, and sometimes I think 
 they ain't," said Randy Shallow. "But I don't think a 
 nigger ought to be lynched, jus' for stealin' or somethin' 
 like that. That's natchul. They can't he'p it. Of co'se 
 when they git so impident you can't do nuthin' with 'em, 
 or they commit murder or rape some woman, that's dif- 
 ferent." 
 
 "Well, I don't know about stealin'," said Mr. Tony 
 Peters. 
 
 "What do you think, Will, about this lynchin' busi- 
 ness?" asked Judge Mowry. 
 
 "Oh, you know what I think," answered Mr. Robert- 
 son. "I think every man, white or black, has a right to 
 a fair trial when he is accused of a crime." 
 
 "But suppose it was some of your own women folks." 
 
 "Yes, how about that?" exclaimed Randy Shallow. 
 "Put the shoe on your own foot." 
 
 "Well, I don't know " began Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Oh, he don't know when it comes home to him," chuck- 
 led Mr. Tony Peters. 
 
 "Isn't it this way," said Brother Maxcy, "that no man, 
 no honest man, can say that he would be an unbiased 
 judge when a thing like that comes home to him? What 
 he would want to do, what he would want to have done, 
 maybe wouldn't be the just or right thing, and in his mo- 
 ments of coolness he knows that he ought not then to be 
 the judge." 
 
 "But think of it, Brother Maxcy," said Judge Mowry, 
 "she is a white woman. She hasn't done anything. And
 
 White and Black 81 
 
 think of the horror of it to her. And then are you going 
 to bring her up before a judge and jury and a court-room 
 full of people and make her testify to the soul-racking 
 details of her own shame, just to give a damn black brute 
 a fair trial? No, suh, by God! I'm a lawyer, but I'll 
 be damned if I'll ever advocate anything like that." 
 
 "Hooray!" shouted Zeke, "now you're handin' it out, 
 Jedge!" 
 
 "Yes, they ought to be hung then and there," said Mr. 
 Hiram Shorter. 
 
 "Hangin', hell!" said Mr. Tony Peters, "hangin's too 
 good for 'em. I say burn 'em, and you can't make the 
 fire too hot." 
 
 "All that's so," said Mr. Robertson, "but how's a mob 
 to know whether they've got the right man or not. 
 They're not going to take time " 
 
 "Time, the devil!" said Judge Mowry, "of course a 
 mob ought to be careful, but what if they do make a mis- 
 take once in a while? Ain't that better than lettin' any 
 of the black brutes escape and ruin your home or mine? 
 Suppose we do burn a few extra ones. What then ? We'll 
 make 'em see that if we don't get one, we'll get another, 
 and they all better look out. But did you ever hear of 
 a mob gettin' the wrong one?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know about that," answered Mr. Robert- 
 son, "no man can know. But fortunately we've had 
 mighty little of that sort of thing in this community. Our 
 niggers are for the most part well-behaved." 
 
 "Well, they better be," said Randy Shallow, "and they 
 know it." 
 
 "That Boston feller said in his book that when any 
 raping was done by niggers, if ever mind you, if ever
 
 82 White and Black 
 
 it was out of revenge because of the conduct of the 
 white men with the nigger women. What do you think 
 of that, Brother Maxcy?" 
 
 "I don't think so," answered Brother Maxcy. "But 
 what do you think, Dr. Anderson? You haven't said 
 a word this evening." 
 
 "Well," answered the doctor, "I don't think so, either. 
 My notion is that niggers are an inferior race and can't 
 control themselves so well, and besides they naturally 
 have stronger passions than we do, men and women. And 
 one of 'em gets to thinking and thinking and his chance 
 comes, and blooie ! he blows up." 
 
 "But do they have stronger passions ?" asked the judge. 
 
 "Mr. Hiram ought to know about that," answered 
 the doctor, winking at Randy Shallow. 
 
 Randy laughed, "Ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 Mr. Hiram blushed scarlet, and couldn't find any ready 
 answer to make. 
 
 "No," said Mr. Tony Peters, "no, I don't believe he 
 has ever had a chance to make any comparisons. His 
 calculations have been all on one side of the ledger, so 
 to speak. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Doc, speak for yourself." 
 
 "No," answered the doctor, "we are not at an experi- 
 ence meetin', eh, Brother Maxcy? This is a free-for-all, 
 open discussion of an abstract question," and he grinned. 
 
 "I am afraid," said Brother Maxcy, "that there 
 wouldn't be much stone throwing here if we followed 
 the biblical injunction and only let him who is without 
 sin throw the first one." 
 
 "I move we poll the jury," said Randy Shallow, "begin- 
 ning with Zeke. Zeke Stebbins, layin* your hand on your 
 heart and so help you God, have you ever ?" 
 
 "Now, look'ee here," said Mr. Hiram, much to the re-
 
 White and Black 83 
 
 lief of Mr. Robertson, the doctor, the judge, and Brother 
 Maxcy, "I think this thing is gettin' too personal. I'm 
 not claimin' to be so good myself, but we've got to have 
 some respect for Brother Maxcy's calling." 
 
 It was Brother Maxcy's turn to blush. "No," he said, 
 "don't consider me. I'm willing to take my turn along 
 with the others." 
 
 "No," said the judge, "we all know that if you should 
 not plead guilty, having grown up in the South, there 
 would be those here who would think you are lying. And 
 if you should plead guilty, some of us would be too glad 
 of it, and use it as an excuse. If all of the preachers were 
 like you, Brother Maxcy, I might be different from what 
 I am. But they are not ; no, not by a hell of sight." 
 
 Randy Shallow winked at Tony Peters, who grinned 
 maliciously, and Zeke brought down the house by saying, 
 "I never did have no use for nigger women nohow, did 
 you, Randy?" 
 
 "About the way I figure it out," said Mr. Robertson 
 when the laughter had subsided, "is that here it's pretty 
 much as it is everywhere else. Here most of the women 
 who happen to be poor and ignorant are niggers, and " 
 
 "Damn you, Will Robertson, air you goin' to say that 
 all the women that is pore " flared up the other piney 
 woods man, Zeke's companion. 
 
 "No, wait a minute, don't fly off the handle, I was 
 going to say that it is easier everywhere to take advantage 
 of a woman that is poor and ignorant, and here the nigger 
 women form a sort of bulwark to protect the white. It's 
 a rare thing to find a loose white woman in this com- 
 munity. I don't know of a single one, do you?" He 
 turned to the piney woods man who had just spoken. 
 
 "Waal, I wouldn't go as fur as that," said he, "but they
 
 84 White and Black 
 
 air skeerse. There's maybe a gal or two slips up once 
 in a while, but once married, our women air jes' nacherly 
 good." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Hiram, "a Southern lady is a little 
 lower than an angel, and mighty little at that." 
 
 "That does your heart credit, Mr. Hiram," said Brother 
 Maxcy. 
 
 "Not to say nuthin' about his head," spoke up Randy 
 Shallow, "but it ain't only ignorance and poverty, Will, 
 and the blame ain't all on the side of the men." 
 
 "Randy, you ought to know," said Doctor Anderson 
 smiling. Then he added, "No, Randy is right partly and 
 Will is right partly. Inferior races, like the mentally 
 weak, are both more subject to sexual passion and less 
 capable of any kind of restraint, men and women. And 
 of course women have passions, too. And everywhere 
 the world over, women look up to and worship and give 
 themselves to the conquerors. In our cities a rich man 
 can marry nearly any woman he wants. Why ? Because 
 he is dominant. It is not altogether that she is bought. 
 It is more because she wants to lord it over the other 
 women and have them envying her. Of course here nig- 
 ger women can't marry white men. It's against the law, 
 and rightly. But to be personal, Will, take your son 
 Bob. He is one of the outstanding young men of this 
 community, and nearly any nigger girl here would be 
 glad to to have relations with him, and would brag 
 about it afterwards." 
 
 "But is it your real belief, doctor, that no nigger women 
 are virtuous?" asked Brother Maxcy. 
 
 "Notice, Brother Maxcy, that I said nearly any nigger 
 girl. To be personal again, I believe that Joe Williams's 
 girls are as virtuous as any white woman in the coun-
 
 White and Black 8jJ 
 
 try. They've been brought up right. But they will have 
 a harder fight to stay virtuous than white girls have, both 
 on account of the race to which they belong and on ac- 
 count of the circumstances in which they find themselves." 
 
 "From what you say, Doc," spoke Tony Peters, "any- 
 body would think that nigger women are mighty virtuous 
 when it comes to men of their own color, while you and 
 I know" 
 
 "Yes," broke in Randy Shallow, "they tell me that that 
 long black Baptis' preacher is usin' round Joe Williams's 
 house a whole lot now with his eye on Lucindy if nuthin' 
 more, and I bet there's plenty more. Ha ! ha ! ha ! You 
 see what becomes of your virtuous nigger women, Doc." 
 
 "Well," said Brother Maxcy, "I know that preacher, and 
 I believe he is a good man trying to help his people." 
 
 "Been off to college, hasn't he ? Ha ! ha ! ha !" said Bob 
 Randell. "Think of that, a nigger been off to college, 
 and talks as proper as hell! Don't it kill you though? 
 Ha ! ha ! ha ! And dresses up as slick as a brass button. 
 I bet he's puttin' all sorts of foolishness in the other 
 niggers' heads. He ought to be run out of the country, 
 that's what I say." 
 
 "Let's see," said the judge, "where did he go?" 
 
 "He went off to school somewhere in Texas, then in 
 Alabama, I believe, and then to some theological seminary 
 up North," said Brother Maxcy. "How Tobe Sanders, 
 his old daddy, kept him a-going, I don't know. Old Tobe 
 hasn't got anything. He just rents some land and farms 
 it like these other niggers around here." 
 
 "I thought them theological seminaries was colleges 
 for white folks," said Tony Peters. 
 
 "Oh, they all go together up there," said the judge.
 
 86 White and Black 
 
 "God a'mighty!" exclaimed Mr. Prouty, "what's this 
 country a-comin' to?" 
 
 "He's named Richard, ain't he?" said the judge. "Yes, 
 Richard Sanders." 
 
 "Yes, that's his name," said Mr. Hiram, "Tobe is a 
 good old nigger, and he mighty nigh starved himself and 
 the rest of the family to death to keep Richard up. I 
 know, because he trades with us." 
 
 "Well, the nigger will come out in this holy Richard 
 yet. He gives me a pain," said Tony Peters. 
 
 "I expect it will," said the judge. 
 
 "More than likely," agreed Dr. Anderson. "At any 
 rate he hasn't got much of a chance to stand out against 
 the women. He won't have to be running after them. 
 They'll be running after him." 
 
 "If I wuz a nigger, I'd sho' be a preacher," said Zeke. 
 
 All joined in a laugh and looked quizzically at Brother 
 Maxcy, who said, not without embarrassment, "Well, 
 Zeke, I suppose it is a good thing for both of us that we 
 are not niggers." 
 
 "But they tell me, Mr. Will," said Mr. Hiram, "that 
 you are goin' to let John Ramsey give the Nineteenth 
 Celebration in your little pasture." 
 
 "Yes, he begged so hard," said Mr. Robertson, "and 
 he has been working mighty well here lately." 
 
 "Oh," said Tony Peters, "that's what he got that sixty 
 dollars from me on his team for!" 
 
 "The dog-gone rascal!" exclaimed Mr. Robertson, "he 
 told me he didn't have any money at all, and I let him 
 have ten dollars." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Tony Peters. 
 
 "Well," said Randy Shallow, "if his note reads just
 
 White and Black 87 
 
 sixty and he give it to Tony, I bet he ain't got any money 
 to throw away." 
 
 The laugh was on Tony Peters, but he diverted it by 
 asking, "What do you fellers think of this here new Ku 
 Klux Klan? I see they tarred and feathered a feller 
 down to Houston the other day. And that ain't all they 
 done, they made a lady out of him. Ha ! ha ! ha ! they 
 shore did." 
 
 "Yes, I read about it," said Mr. Robertson, "I think 
 it is a cowardly thing for a band of masked men to waylay 
 and assault any citizen of our country, white or black." 
 
 "Wuz this feller white or black?" asked Zeke. 
 
 "He was white," answered Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "What had he been a-doin'?" 
 
 "They say he'd been runnin' with a nigger woman," 
 answered Tony Peters. 
 
 "Lawd sakes !" exclaimed Zeke, "did they treat him that 
 a-way jes' for that?" 
 
 "Yes," said Judge Mowry, "there have been several 
 cases of that kind in the State recently and over the 
 South generally. The Ku Klux say they are going 
 to maintain race purity and see that whites and blacks 
 don't mix." 
 
 "I don't know anything that has distressed me more 
 than this disregard of law and order," said Doctor Ander- 
 son. "And the crimes of these gangs are committed under 
 the pretext of aiding the law. It's abominable. It's 
 damnable ! Mark my words, it won't be long before they 
 will be tarring and feathering some defenseless woman !" 
 
 "Oh, I don't think any Texan would do that," said 
 Brother Maxcy, "surely we are not as bad as that. But 
 it seems to me the officers of the law are scared of this
 
 88 White and Black 
 
 Klan, and if it is not stopped soon we will have the whole 
 country overrun by masked bands committing murders 
 and midnight assaults for private revenge or from pure 
 malice." 
 
 "Right you are," said Judge Mowry. "The thing's got 
 to be stopped, but it looks like the Ku Klux Klan are 
 spreadin' everywhere, there's a new white-cap procession 
 with a flaming cross or some such damn foolishness in a 
 different county nearly every night of late." 
 
 "Do they wear them white robes an' things ever' time 
 they go after a feller?" asked Zeke. 
 
 "No, it seems not," answered Judge Mowry, "but usually 
 they wear a mask of some kind. If a real scrimmage 
 should come up, I imagine the flowing white robes might 
 be in the way. The costume seems to be kept mainly for 
 full-dress occasions, so to speak." 
 
 "What if they was to come here, Randy, what would 
 you and Mr. Hiram and Henry Thompson and a lot of 
 other fellers around here do?" asked Tony Peters. 
 
 "I don't know what the others would do," answered 
 Randy, "but I'd join 'em. I'd rather be on the inside look- 
 in' out, than on the outside bein' tarred an' feathered 
 not to speak of nuthin' else," and he grinned. 
 
 "Would you jine 'em, Mr. Hiram?" asked Zeke. 
 
 "No," said Mr. Hiram, shortly, "would you?" 
 
 "Waal, I don' know, I sorter think it would be right 
 smart fun to take some of these fellers out here an' 
 man-handle 'em. Of course I wouldn't want to ruin no 
 man, but a little tar and feather would show some of 
 'em up pretty good, hunh, Mr. Prouty?" 
 
 Mr. Prouty and Bob Randell laughed as did Zeke's 
 companion, and Mr. Prouty answered, "It might take the 
 pride out of some of 'em as is so high an' mighty an'
 
 White and Black 89 
 
 pious like, you know," and he cut his eye at Mr. Hiram. 
 
 "They'd sho' git old Henry Thompson first pop," sur- 
 mised Tony Peters. 
 
 "Don't you think it?" said Bob Randell, "he'd be the 
 fust one to jine. He'd kinder have to jine in self-defense. 
 I wouldn't be s'prised if he wuz to start it up hisse'f , jes' 
 to be on the safe side." 
 
 "No, he's too bashful to start anything like that," said 
 Randy Shallow, "but it's a funny thing about Henry. He 
 ain't a bit bashful when it comes to fightin' men. Jes' 
 make him mad, and you'll see. He'll kill you quicker'n 
 a flash. He's bashful all right, but he ain't skeered of 
 nuthin'." 
 
 "Well, I don' know," said Tony Peters, "they wear 
 masks, don't they? Seems to me that's where a bashful 
 man would shine," 
 
 "That's where cowards shine," said Brother Maxcy. 
 
 "If they want to purify the morals of the country and 
 help enforce the law, why don't they come out openly?" 
 asked Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "They are liars and the sons of liars and cowardly 
 skulks," said Judge Mowry, "that's why ! There are lots 
 of things I don't believe, but I know good and well that 
 if the morals of this country are to be purified, it's the 
 church and them that train with it that'll have to do the 
 job, and it won't be done by intimidation and assault and 
 murder by masked men at night." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Prouty, "I wasn't meanin' no harm. 
 I was jes' sorter jokin', you know, about takin' the pride 
 out of anybody." 
 
 "I don't reckon they'll come here anyhow," said Randy 
 Shallow, "but if they do, I know good an' well there'll 
 be lots of fellers that'll join 'em, an' most of 'em'll be
 
 90 White and Black 
 
 like me, join 'em in self-defense, they'll be try in* to do 
 unto the other feller like he would do unto you an' do 
 it fust. I know in reason that nobody like Brother Maxcy 
 or Will Robertson or Judge Mowry or Dr. Anderson 
 would join, and so does everybody else." 
 
 "But, really, I think the thing is due in large measure 
 to such unrest as is bound to follow a great war, and 
 that it will subside as suddenly as it comes," said Brother 
 Maxcy, "but it must be said to their credit that they 
 do make some donations to charity." 
 
 The whistle of the afternoon train was heard, and the 
 assembly adjourned hurriedly to the station to see who 
 was coming and going, and to connect themselves pleas- 
 urably, for a moment, with the vast outside world by 
 close proximity to its visible and tangible symbol.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 ON the morning of the seventeenth, John Ramsey, his 
 family, and five or six outside Negroes, who were prom- 
 ised free barbecue and lemonade in payment for their 
 help, set to work in the little pasture to make all ready 
 for the celebration. 
 
 They had to dig the barbecue pit, make brush arbors 
 for shade, put up rough booths for lemonade and bottled 
 soda-water, arrange a table of pine boards, make a few 
 benches, lay off a foot-race course and smooth a place 
 for broad jumping, convert a long pine sapling into a 
 greased pole and erect it, and assemble fuel for the bar- 
 becuing. 
 
 John had ordered a supply of baker's bread and ice 
 from the city through Mr. Hiram Shorter and also a 
 few watermelons at a cost of a dollar and a half apiece. 
 For in spite of all the Negroes could do, they couldn't 
 get their watermelons ripe for the Nineteenth. The ones 
 that John ordered had been shipped from Florida or South 
 Georgia. But John knew well he could sell them at a 
 profit by the slice, although they would be very dear. 
 
 Early in the afternoon Joe Williams delivered the year- 
 ling steer, skinned, dressed, and ready for the fire, at a 
 cost of seventeen dollars and fifteen cents. Joe had the 
 reputation of never selling anything unless he got a little 
 more. It was a common thing to see along the roads of 
 the region advertising signs of local merchants bearing 
 the inscription, "We sell for less." Joe's acquaintances 
 were unanimous in thinking that he ought to have a sign
 
 92 White and Black 
 
 over his house, warning, "I sell for more." But John 
 had whittled him down from eighteen dollars and a 
 quarter to seventeen dollars and fifteen cents with one 
 helping of barbecued meat to be thrown in gratis. 
 
 About dark, Madison Mulberry came with the two 
 shotes. They were fat and prime and dressed in proper 
 form, except that their ears were missing. 
 
 "How come, Brother Mulberry, dat dese shotes ain't 
 got no years," asked John, "wuz dey deef ? Haw ! haw ! 
 haw ! wuz dey deef ?" 
 
 "Oh, go 'long, Ramsey, gi' me my ten dollars. I ain't 
 got no time to fool wid you," answered Madison. 
 
 "Waal, de way I looks at it," said John, "is, dat eve'y 
 shote ought to have years. Years is de bes' part of a 
 shote when he is bobbycued, but I ain't gwine to be hard 
 on you, Brother Mulberry, I'll jes' knock off ten cents 
 a year. Two shotes would have fo' years, an' dat would 
 come to forty cents, an' a dime for good luck, so nine 
 dollars an' a half, take it or leave it." John was profit- 
 ing by his recent trading bout with Brother Williams. 
 
 "Gi' me de money," said Madison, "I wouldn't scrape 
 fo' years of a shote in dis hot weather for no forty cents. 
 I cut 'em off and pitched 'em to my dawgs. Gi' me de 
 money." 
 
 John counted him out nine dollars and a half. Madison 
 took it, and hurried away, as he wanted to get across 
 the county line to Farmville, where prohibition was not 
 so strictly enforced as in Compton county. Though by 
 no means a drunkard, Madison had a weakness for whis- 
 key, against which he did not struggle very strenuously, 
 especially when a celebration was on hand. 
 
 "I reckon I kin git dar in time if I hurries," said Mad- 
 ison to himself, as he drove along in his ramshackle
 
 White and Black 93 
 
 buggy. "I didn't have no time to fool 'long wid dat 
 little f o' bits. Anyhow I got me some money for de Nine- 
 teenth. Haw ! haw ! haw ! Come up hyeer, Moll, you got 
 to beat dat gait," and he whacked the mule vigorously 
 with the long stem of a coffee weed that he had cut for 
 a buggy whip. 
 
 By nine o'clock that night John and his gang had every- 
 thing ready for the morrow. "When I thinks 'bout dat 
 bobbycue," said one of his helpers, "my mouf fair drib- 
 bles at de cawners." 
 
 The Ramsey family went to bed, but could hardly sleep 
 for eager expectancy. Anyhow they were to rise before 
 day to light the fire in the pits and be ready to begin on 
 time the actual work of the barbecuing. Even Liza felt 
 a thrill of pride in John as she prefigured him turning over 
 the carcasses and basting them with a mixture of sauces, 
 while crowds of expectant Negroes stood by and watched 
 with envious glances from greedy eyes. And in a sense 
 she was to be queen of the occasion, as her husband 
 would be its central figure. And her mind ran delight- 
 fully on to what they would do with the hundred dol- 
 lars or more of profit. A gaudy new dress and patent- 
 leather shoes for herself were the very least that she 
 could imagine. 
 
 At earliest dawn they arose. "It looks mighty cloudy," 
 said Rosy. 
 
 "Hurry up, eve'ybody, an' git out to de paschur," com- 
 manded John, "dem ain't nuthin' but Gulf clouds. Dey'll 
 be gone in an hour. Hustle, folks, you kin come back 
 after a while an' put on yo' Sunday clo'es. We got to 
 git things to goin' befo' dem niggers gethers." 
 
 They crossed the road to the little pasture, built the 
 fires, put the iron bars across the pits, brought out the
 
 94 White and Black 
 
 meat, got ready the mixture of sauces, and began the 
 cooking. At seven o'clock it commenced to sprinkle rain. 
 
 "Gaad a'mighty," said John, "if you ever is gwine to 
 do anything for dis nigger, do it now. Don't let it rain. 
 All I axes you, Gaad, is don't let it rain." 
 
 It held up a little while. "I believe it is goin' to clar 
 up after all," said Liza. 
 
 "It better," answered John. 
 
 At nine o'clock the meat was nearly done. Many 
 Negroes dressed in gala attire had arrived. Then it began 
 to pour. John strove valiantly with many volunteer help- 
 ers to keep the fires going, and finish the cooking, but in 
 vain. 
 
 "Eve'ybody come over to our house," cried Sally, as she 
 ran for shelter, "we gwine to have some Nineteenth after 
 all." 
 
 Many followed her with feminine shrieks and male guf- 
 faws. John's house was crowded full of wet and drag- 
 gled Negroes. But still they were in a crowd and it 
 was still the Nineteenth, so that not all their merriment 
 was drowned. The house was full to suffocation, but 
 with the help of some of the male guests, Sally managed 
 to clear a space at the back end of the open hall-way, and 
 to place there the kitchen table. Soon she had installed 
 Tom, her oldest brother, behind it, and was crying, "Come 
 on, hyeer's yo' ice-cold soda-water, lemonade, and 
 watermillon," for these dainties had not yet been carried 
 to the pasture, "come on, buy 'em cheap an' fall back. 
 De bobbycue'll be on hand toreckly." 
 
 But the crowd hung back. "Come on," cried Sally, 
 "git 'em at half de reg'lar price. Two bottles of soda 
 for five cents, two glasses of lemonade for a nickel, 
 watermillon ten cents a slish."
 
 White and Black 95 
 
 The crowd came and bought. Sally and Tom were 
 doing a rushing, if not profitable, business, when John, 
 wet and dispirited, slunk in. Sally stopped for a moment 
 to go to him and say, "Papa, go an' bring in some of de 
 meat." 
 
 "But it ain't done, Sally?" 
 
 "Dat don't make no diffunce, we got to save whut we 
 kin. Dey'll buy some of it at half de reg'lar price." 
 
 And so it turned out. Sally's enterprise saved the day 
 in so far that they did sell enough to get back fifty dol- 
 lars, and they had much meat and some soda-water left 
 over. 
 
 It rained all day. At night-fall John sat on the front 
 porch, downcast. Liza came out of the house. "Whut 
 you settin' dar for?" she asked. 
 
 "I's plumb discouraged, "Liza." said John. 
 
 "It's jes' like I told you," said Liza, "you never kin 
 do nuthin' right." 
 
 "I has sich hard luck," complained John. 
 
 "Yas, dat's jest it," answered Liza, "you is de on- 
 luckiest nigger dey is. I ax myse'f, and I can't answer, 
 whut I ever is married you for ? You can't have no luck, 
 an' you wouldn't know whut to do wid it if you had 
 it." She turned scornfully and went into the house. 
 
 John was enveloped in gloom, but suddenly an idea 
 occurred to him that brought some light. "How come 
 Brother Mulberry cut 'de years off dem shotes? Unh- 
 hunh ! how does folks mark dey hogs ? Dey cuts notches 
 in dey years, dat's how dey marks 'em. If dem wuzn't 
 Brother Mulberry's shotes, would he want 'em to have 
 years? He wouldn't. Unh-hunh, I see. I got to git 
 over to de lower place soon in de mawnin'." 
 
 Early on the morning of the nineteenth he was at
 
 96 White and Black 
 
 the lower place. He thought it best to call first on Uncle 
 Sam Sparkins and inquire around a bit. 
 
 After they had exchanged salutations and commiserated 
 with each other over the failure of the Nineteenth, John 
 asked, "Well, Brother Sparkins, whut's the news over 
 hyeer?" 
 
 "Dey ain't nuthin' much, Brother Ramsey, 'ceppen Mr. 
 Sim Senter been raisin' sand all roun' hyeer 'bout his 
 shotes." 
 
 "Whut's de matter wid his shotes, Brother Sparkins ?" 
 
 "He say he is a-missin' two of 'em, an' dem de fattes' 
 shotes he had." 
 
 "Is he layin' 'em to anybody special?" 
 
 "Naw, he 'jes' noratin' de word aroun' he gwine to 
 send somebody to de pen if dem shotes don't show up." 
 
 "I 'speck dey jes' got out in de woods an' wondered 
 off," said John with every appearance of indifference, 
 "but I got to be hustlin' on. Take keer of yo'se'f, Brother 
 Sparkins," and he was gone. 
 
 He carefully avoided the neighborhood of Sim Senter's 
 house, and on arriving near Madison Mulberry's, he called 
 from a little distance, "Hello ! hello !" He received an 
 almost immediate answer from within, and then said, 
 "Come out hyeer, Brother Mulberry, I'se skeered of yo* 
 dawgs. Dey's gwine on bodacious." 
 
 Madison came out, quieted the dogs, and asked, "Whut 
 you want, Ramsey?" 
 
 "Come out hyeer, an' look at dis horse of mine, Brother 
 Mulberry, 'pears to me like dey is somep'n ner de 
 matter wid him." 
 
 Madison went in, got his hat, returned, and reluctantly 
 came to where John was waiting.
 
 White and Black 97 
 
 "Less go out in de fiel' a little ways, Brother Mulberry, 
 I wants to speak to you 'bout somep'n of a private 
 nachur." 
 
 When they were removed quite out of earshot of the 
 house, John said, "Brother Mulberry, dem shotes' years 
 wuz wuth mor'n forty cents." 
 
 "Whut you mean, nigger?" asked Madison. 
 
 "Dey wuz wuth at de lowes' nine dollars an' fo' bits, 
 an' nuthin' mo' said an' no feelin's hurt," answered John. 
 
 "Whut you talkin' bout ?" asked Madison. 
 
 "Mr. Sim Senter say he missin' two of dem red Jersey 
 shotes of his'n, but I done tol' him dey wuz lots of bristles 
 left on dem shotes you sold me, an' dey wuz black. An' 
 he say his shotes wuz marked wid a notch on bofe years. 
 An' I tole him de shotes you brung me wuz marked wid 
 a tip offen de left year and a slish in de right, dat's de 
 way you mark yo' shotes, ain't it, Brother Mulberry?" 
 
 "Unh-hunh," said Madison, beginning to see the light. 
 
 "Waal, Brother Mulberry, does you want dem shotes 
 to stay black wid a tip offen de left year an' a slish in 
 de right?" 
 
 "Whut you drivin' at, nigger ?" 
 
 "I'm drivin' at keepin' you outen de penitentiary at a 
 cost to you of nine dollars an' f o' bits, Brother Mulberry." 
 
 "Hunh, I done spent all dat money," said Madison. 
 
 "Dat's bad, Brother Mulberry, dat sho' is powerful 
 bad, 'cause it comes to me mighty strong dat de bristles on 
 dem shotes wuz red an' dey didn't have no years at all, 
 and it ain't so fur to Mr. Sim Senter's house dat I couldn't 
 make it dar in about ten minutes." 
 
 Madison scratched his head. "How you know I ain't 
 gwine to beat de life outen you, Ramsey?" he asked.
 
 98 White and Black 
 
 "I don't know it, Brother Mulberry, but I done tol' 
 all my folks at home 'bout dis thing, so de fac's won't 
 perish off de earth if anything happens to me." 
 
 "Waal, I ain't got but five dollars lef," answered 
 Madison. 
 
 John scratched his head. An inspiration came to him. 
 "Waal, Brother Mulberry, whut do de Good Book say? 
 It say, 'Be merciful to sinners,' so you kin jes' bring me 
 de five dollars now, an' pay me de res' dis fall when you 
 sell yo' crop." 
 
 Madison was cornered. Not knowing what else to do, 
 he went and brought John the five dollars. 
 
 "So long, Brother Mulberry," said John, in leave-tak- 
 ing, "de way of de transgressor is hard, but blessed is de 
 peace-makers, for dey shall see Gaad." 
 
 He rode to Compton to see Mr. Tony Peters. 
 
 "Mr. Tony," said he, "if it is Sunday, I done brung you 
 forty dollars." 
 
 "What forty dollars?" asked Mr. Tony. 
 
 "De forty dollars I got from you on my team." 
 
 "Here's your note, John, and it says sixty." 
 
 "Yassuh, but you know I didn't git but de forty, an' 
 de Nineteenth turned out somep'n awful, Mr. Tony." 
 
 "Yes that's so, John, but I've got to be paid for the 
 risk I run. I can't be lettin' you niggers have money 
 for nuthin'." 
 
 "Waal, you kin sho' knock off somep'n, can't you, Mr. 
 Tony?" 
 
 "I hate to set a bad example," answered Mr. Peters, 
 "but considerin' the circumstances, I'll knock off ten per 
 cent, for cash. Pay me fifty-four dollars, and we'll call 
 it square, John." 
 
 "Can't you do no better'n dat, Mr. Tony?"
 
 White and Black 99 
 
 "No, that's the best I'll do, and you better thank your 
 stars for that" 
 
 Painfully he counted out the fifty-four dollars and 
 handed the sum to Mr. Tony. 
 
 On his way home John rode bowed over nearly double. 
 He reached in his pocket, pulled out a lone silver dollar, 
 and looked at it mournfully. "You sho' is lonesome, ain't 
 you, honey?" he said. Then he brightened up as he 
 reflected, "It sho' wuz a good thing dat Brother Mulberry 
 took dem shotes from Mr. Senter kinder kinder unbe- 
 knownst like." Then another cloud came over his face. 
 "But whut is I gwine to do 'bout dat ten dollars I got from 
 Mr. Will? Oh, shuckins, I can't be worried 'bout dat. 
 I knows I kin git him to wait on dat little smidget of 
 money till de fall. Hunh, dey ain't nobody kin fool 'long 
 wid dis nigger, I suttinly did stick it tight to Brother Mul- 
 berry, haw ! haw ! haw ! I got him whar de hair is short. 
 I'm mighty nigh got him whar dey ain't no hair at all. 
 Haw ! haw ! haw !"
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 IMMEDIATELY after dinner on Sunday afternoon, Bob 
 said to his father and mother, "I believe I'll ride down to 
 the lower place to see how Jim Senter is getting on." 
 
 "I would have gone down before now," said Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, "but Dr. Anderson told me that he was improving 
 right along and that he would likely be out of bed in a 
 few days now. Still I think it would be a good idea 
 for you to go, Bob." 
 
 "Yes, but wouldn't it be a better idea to wait till later 
 in the evening? It is so fearfully hot now," said Mrs. 
 Robertson. 
 
 "Oh, Mama, won't you ever, ever get over thinking I'm 
 a baby!" exclaimed Bob, petulantly. 
 
 "Mind, son, you shouldn't speak in that tone to your 
 mother," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Well, I don't mean to hurt anybody's feelings, but 
 I get so mortally tired of it," and Bob flung out of the 
 house. 
 
 "There seems to me to be something the matter with 
 Bob here lately," said Mrs. Robertson with tears in her 
 eyes. "What do you think, Will?" 
 
 "It may be," answered Mr. Robertson, "that we do 
 regard him too much as a child. We shall have to re- 
 member, I suppose, that he is past eighteen, and is really 
 a young man, though it is hard to think of him as nearly 
 grown." 
 
 "It has been such a short, short time, Will, since I 
 carried him in my arms." 
 
 100
 
 White and Black ion 
 
 "Yes, honey, I know, but it seems a long time to 
 Bob, and a boy must have some freedom." 
 
 "Oh, Will, you don't think I nag him, do you?" 
 
 "No, no, honey, of course not, but suppose we give 
 him his head a little more and see how that will turn out." 
 
 "All right, I'll try. I'll try hard, but if anything 
 were to happen to him, Will, I I couldn't stand it," she 
 said with a sob. 
 
 When Bob rode up on Saladin to Sim Senter's house, 
 he found a Sabbath calm prevailing. Sim himself was 
 dozing in a dilapidated rocking-chair on the front porch, 
 under the edge of which were groups of sleeping dogs. 
 
 "Hello, Mr. Senter," he called from the front gate, 
 "taking a nap?" 
 
 "Unh-hunh," answered Sim sleepily, then waking up. 
 as the dogs began to bark, he said, "Well, I declar' if 
 it ain't Bob Robertson ! Git down, Bob, aa' come in." 
 
 "Thought I'd drop by and see how Jim is getting on," 
 answered Bob, as he dismounted. 
 
 "He'll be real glad to see you, Bob, he's that pyeert 
 now, he kin set up an' talk to folks. Hey, Jennie," he 
 called to his wife, "you and Susie look out, Bob Rob- 
 ertson's comin' in to see Jim." "I expect the women 
 folks haven't got on much," he said to Bob in a lower 
 voice. "They've been a-nappin' it, an' it is so 'tarnally 
 hot." 
 
 "I'll wait a minute then," said Bob as he heard a 
 rustling and a smothered tittering in the house and a 
 slamming of a door. 
 
 "Yes, I expec' you'd better," said Sim, "set down in 
 that cheer. How's Mr. Will and how's your ma?" 
 
 Bob flushed at the last query, remembering his former
 
 IO2 White and Black 
 
 encounter with Harry, but knowing that Mr. Senter had 
 no such idea in mind, he answered, "They are well, 
 thank you. I'm mighty glad to know that Jim is so much 
 better." 
 
 "All right, he kin come," Mrs. Senter called from 
 within the house. 
 
 Bob and Sim went into the room where Jim lay. 
 After they had talked for some minutes, mainly about 
 the Nineteenth and the fizzle of John Ramsey's celebra- 
 tion, at which both Sim and Jim rejoiced, Bob asked 
 "Where's Harry?" 
 
 "Oh, he lit out soon this mawnin'," said Sim, "he said 
 he wuz goin' over to the Piney Woods church. They're 
 havin' preachin' over there to-day, an' I reckon he's been 
 skylarkin' aroun' with some of the gals sence church let 
 out. Most likely been takin' dinner with the Biggerses. 
 I think he's kinder stuck on Leilia Biggers." 
 
 "He told me," said Jim, "he'd mighty nigh as soon 
 marry her as not." 
 
 "That's the way of it," said Sim, "you don't no sooner 
 git a boy up big enough to he'p you some 'n he gits 
 marryin' in his head. Raisin' chillun don't pay in these 
 times. Harry may not be back hyeer before midnight." 
 
 Bob thought how his father and mother would feel 
 if he should go away early in the morning and not re- 
 turn till midnight without their knowing where he was, 
 and he envied Harry. But he said merely, "Well, I've 
 got to be going. I am glad you are getting on so fine, 
 Jim." 
 
 "You ain't seen nuthin' of two red Jersey shotes over 
 your way, have you?" asked Sim. 
 
 "No, I haven't," answered Bob. "Have you lost any ?" 
 
 "Two of my best shotes air missin'," said Sim. "Some
 
 White and Black 103 
 
 of these low-down niggers must ha' stole 'em, an' I've 
 got a putty good idee of which one it is." 
 
 "I hope you catch him," said Bob, and took his de- 
 parture. 
 
 As he glanced back over his shoulder, he saw Susie 
 come out on the front porch. She was dressed in her 
 poor Sunday best, or so it seemed to him, but her awk- 
 ward overgrown figure, stooping shoulders, sallow and 
 pimply complexion, and discolored teeth were brought 
 out but the more vividly by her wretched attempt at 
 finery. 
 
 "Good-by, Bob," she said, with abashed sprightliness. 
 
 "Good-by, Susie," he half turned, waved his hand, 
 hurried to mount, and rode away. "Goodness! I feel 
 sorry for her !" he thought. 
 
 He concluded he would ride by Uncle Sam Sparkins's 
 house and have a chat with him. There had been a mu- 
 tual affection between them ever since Bob's babyhood. 
 But as he was threading the narrow path that led through 
 a patch of timber, he came face to face with Harry Sen- 
 ter, who was riding a dun pony. Bob's face went red, 
 and "Now or never" came into his mind. 
 
 "Are you going to take back what you said about me 
 last week ?" he asked menacingly as he brought his horse 
 beside Harry's. 
 
 "I don't never take nuthin' back," answered Harry, 
 flaring up. 
 
 "Well, take that!" exclaimed Bob, and struck him 
 across the neck and shoulders with his quirt. 
 
 Instantly Harry jerked his feet from his stirrups and 
 threw himself on Bob, dragging him from the saddle to 
 the ground. "I'll pay you, I'll pay you, damn you, I'll 
 pay you good and plenty," he shrieked.
 
 IO4 White and Black 
 
 On the ground they tossed and tumbled, first one on 
 top, then the other. There were no rules to the fight. 
 They gouged and scratched and bit and pummeled as 
 the chance came. Bob felt that at all hazards he must 
 win, for he was fighting not only Harry Senter but all 
 who taunted him for a mollycoddle. While in Harry 
 surged up the envy and hatred of poverty for superior 
 wealth and position. 
 
 But victory was to come to neither, for Sim Senter was 
 following Bob on foot, intending to have another talk 
 with Uncle Sam about the shotes. 
 
 After a struggle he succeeded in separating the com- 
 batants just as Uncle Sam arrived leading Saladin, who 
 had run riderless up to the cabin. 
 
 "Here, Sam," said Sim, "hold Bob, while I tend to 
 Harry. Now, what's the trouble?" 
 
 "He hit me with his quirt," said Harry, "and I'm goin' 
 to kill him." He strained to break Sim's hold. 
 
 "I reckon he won't call me a baby any more," said 
 Bob, "look at his eye. Turn me loose, Uncle Sam, and 
 I'll beat him to death." 
 
 "Haw ! haw ! haw !" laughed Sim, "is that what you two 
 wuz fightin' about ? Haw ! haw ! haw !" 
 
 "Shut up !" shouted Bob. "I'll lick you too ! I'll lick 
 the whole damn works !" 
 
 "Haw! haw! haw!" laughed Sim. "Hold him, Sam, 
 till I git done laughinV And it looked as if he really 
 could not control his mirth. "Me and Mr. Will had a 
 fight about the same thing when we wuz boys! Haw! 
 haw ! haw !" 
 
 Bob was interested in spite of himself. "Who licked?" 
 he asked.
 
 White and Black 105 
 
 "I licked, but I never did call him a baby no more. He 
 bruised me up somethin' terrible." 
 
 "Papa, did you sho' nuff lick Mr. Will?" asked Harry, 
 with great animation. 
 
 "He did for a fac'," said Uncle Sam, "I holp wash Mr. 
 Will up atterwards. Haw ! haw ! haw ! But I bet you 
 got a scar right now behin' you' lef year, Mr. Senter." 
 
 "Yep, there it is," said Sim proudly, pulling his ear 
 forward and turning around for Bob and Harry to see. 
 
 "Well, I declare !" said Bob. 
 
 "Swar to goodness !" exclaimed Harry. 
 
 "Come on, honey, by de cabin," said Uncle Sam to Bob, 
 "an' lemme wash you up like I done yo' pappy." 
 
 Bob looked at Harry sheepishly. "So long, Harry," he 
 said. 
 
 "So long, Bob," Harry replied, "it feels to me like it's 
 goin' to be my eye 'stead of my year." 
 
 "And I reckon it'll be my lip," said Bob, wiping the 
 blood from his mouth. 
 
 After Uncle Sam and Aunt Hannah had done the best 
 they could for Bob, he started back home, but in a bruised 
 and battered condition. His lip was split, one eye was 
 almost closed up, both of his thumbs were swollen, and 
 it hurt him to sit in the saddle. Nevertheless there was a 
 feeling of joy in his heart. "Papa and Mr. Senter had a 
 fight about the same thing ; how funny !" he thought, "and 
 then he didn't call him a baby any more. Well, I'm free 
 of that, I bet !" 
 
 But the word "free" turned his mind back to his adven- 
 ture with Sally, to which he had been impelled in part by 
 a desire for freedom. And he was conscious that he had 
 been much less free after than before. The fear of its
 
 io6 White and Black 
 
 discovery by his father or mother at times chilled him 
 with horror. He was uneasy in the presence of John 
 Ramsey and greatly embarrassed by the new assertiveness 
 of Sally. And his conscience hurt him. And in addition 
 to all of that he was plagued by unruly desires more than 
 ever before in his life. Negro women looked different to 
 him. 
 
 As his thought ran confusedly on such a course, he 
 said half aloud, "I believe I will stop by Joe Williams's 
 house and get some of that liniment for my thumbs. 
 Maybe I will look better if I don't go home for an hour or 
 so yet." 
 
 And then distinctly there recurred to him his dream of 
 Ella standing in the brilliant sunshine and holding in her 
 outstretched yellowish palm the glittering medal. It was 
 odd that it was the dream, and not the actual scene itself, 
 that was reproduced in his mind, for in the dream Ella 
 stood bare-headed and her hair was long and wavy. While 
 in reality Ella's hair was short and kinky, and at that time 
 she had worn a sun-bonnet. It came to him as a shock 
 that the dream had crowned Ella with the tresses of 
 Minnie Deane. 
 
 When he reached the house of Joe Williams, Joe was 
 not at home, but Malviny came out on the porch to his 
 call. 
 
 "Lawd, Mr. Bob, whut's de matter wid you ?" she asked. 
 
 "I had a fight with Harry Senter and I was wondering 
 if Joe had any of that liniment left that Papa gave him 
 for the mule's back." 
 
 "Yas, we's got plenty of it. Will you git down?" but 
 there was a sort of reluctance in Malviny's manner. 
 
 "I believe I will," said Bob. "I will come on the porch 
 and let you put some of the liniment on my thumbs."
 
 White and Black 107 
 
 "Ella, Ella," called Malviny, "bring dat liniment Mr. 
 Will give us out hyeer to de po'ch." 
 
 Soon Ella came out with the medicine. "What man is 
 that I hear talking in there ?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Dat's Brother Richard Sanders, our new paschur," 
 answered Malviny, "you ain't never met him, is you, Mr. 
 Bob?" 
 
 "No, I never saw him, I think," said Bob, "he has been 
 away to college, hasn't he?" And he smiled, his cut lip 
 making him wince. 
 
 "Yassuh, he's been way up Nawth, to de theology sem- 
 inary," said Ella. 
 
 "Oh, he has !" said Bob. "What's he doing over here ?" 
 
 "He jes' drapped in to make us a paschural call," an- 
 swered Malviny, and Bob understood the reluctance that 
 there had been in Malviny's manner. 
 
 "Hyeer, Ella," said Malviny, "you rub Mr. Bob's 
 thumb, while I go and git a rag." 
 
 "How do you like your new pastor, Ella?" asked Bob, 
 grinning. 
 
 "Oh, I ain't studyin' him, Mr. Bob. It's Lucindy he 
 likes." 
 
 Just then Richard, taking his leave, came out on the 
 porch, Lucindy following him. 
 
 "Dis is Mr. Bob Robertson, Mr. Will's boy," said Ella, 
 "an' dis is Brother Richard Sanders." 
 
 "I am glad to meet you, Mr. Robertson," said Richard, 
 "I've heard what a fine young man you are." 
 
 Bob blushed and hardly knew what to say. It seemed 
 to him that he was being patronized by a Negro, and he 
 didn't look his best anyway, with his eye and lip in that 
 condition and under treatment for his bruises gotten in
 
 io8 White and Black 
 
 a fight on Sunday afternoon. But after some hesitation 
 he did say, "I understand you've been off to college." 
 
 "Yes, sir, I have had that privilege, and I am come 
 back to try to show my people the right path," answered 
 Richard*with politeness and some unction. 
 
 Lucindy giggled. 
 
 "Where are you going to work ?" asked Bob. 
 
 "I am the pastor of Shady Grove Baptist Church." 
 
 "Oh, you are not going to do anything but preach 
 then?" 
 
 "No, sir, I expect all of my time to be occupied as the 
 spiritual guide of my people." 
 
 "The hell you say !" exclaimed Bob. 
 
 Without answering, Richard left. Bob grinned. "The 
 spiritual guide of his people !" he thought. "Ouch ! Ella," 
 he said aloud, "you twisted that thumb." 
 
 "I's sorry, Mr. Bob, it mus' be powerful so'." 
 
 Lucindy went back into the house with a cloudy face. 
 
 "It is mighty sore," said Bob. 
 
 "I would ax you who licked," said Ella, "but I 
 know you can whup dat Harry Senter wid one hand tied 
 behin' yo' back." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Sim stopped the fight before we finished," 
 said Bob. 
 
 "And a good thing for Harry, I bet, too, or he wouldn't 
 ha' stopped it." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know about that," answered Bob with 
 the air of a conqueror. 
 
 Malviny came out with the rags and tied up Bob's 
 thumbs. He mounted Saladin again and rode on towards 
 home. As he went along his mind was busy. "Just 
 think, that Richard Sanders has already been off to col- 
 lege. He talks like a white man. I bet he knows more
 
 White and Black 109 
 
 about books than I do. And he has been to places. Just 
 think of that ! But after all, wherever he went he wasn't 
 anything but a nigger. He could go to forty colleges, but 
 when he came back he would still be a nigger. Well, I 
 better fool around the lot a while before I go to the 
 house. It does take this swelling a long time to go down. 
 Oh, Lord, I know I'll just scare Mama to death! And 
 what is Papa going to say?" 
 
 He came to the spring branch. "Oh," he said, "I believe 
 I'll go and sit down by the spring a while." 
 
 He turned his horse and rode up along the side of the 
 branch. The spring itself was walled around with a 
 board curbing, over the edge of which there ran a clear 
 stream of water that sparkled as the rays of the sun 
 fell on it here and there through the lofty pine trees 
 by which it was surrounded. A little to one side was 
 a rustic bench made of pine poles that had been built by 
 Joe Williams as a place to rest and cool off when he would 
 come from his work in the field to fill his jug of water. 
 The bench was screened from observation by the high 
 banks around it, and on it Bob stretched himself at full 
 length with many a squirm, as various bruises on his body 
 pressed upon its hard surface. 
 
 He fell to thinking about the fight, how he might have 
 done this or that and knocked Harry completely out at 
 once, but more insistent still was his worry as to how 
 he should tell his father and mitigate the shock his mother 
 would suffer. But he failed to realize how thoroughly 
 exhausted he was, until all at once a feeling of extreme 
 weariness came over him. "Gee ! but I am tired !" he 
 said, yawned, stretched, pillowed his head on his arm, 
 and fell asleep. His hat dropped to the ground.
 
 no White and Black 
 
 Ella came down to the spring for a bucket of water. 
 She was humming a hymn: 
 
 "'Why do you wait, dear brother? 
 'Oh, why do you tarry so long?'" 
 
 She saw Bob stretched out on the bench and realized 
 that he was asleep. Her song was hushed. As quietly 
 as possible she sank the bucket into the spring, lifted it 
 out dripping, and turned to go back home, but diverged 
 from the straight path enough to lay her hand gently for 
 a moment on Bob's blond hair. He stirred in his sleep, 
 and she stole away.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE next morning Mr. Robertson went to town for the 
 mail and returned early, as he was anxious to see how 
 Bob would look. When he came back, the first question 
 he asked was, "Mamie, how is Bob this morning?" 
 "Sh !" said Mrs. Robertson, "he hasn't waked up yet." 
 Bob had come in on the evening before at dusk, had had 
 the good fortune to meet his father first, and had ex- 
 plained the fight to him. After his first alarm was over 
 and Bob had assured him that there was no serious dam- 
 age, Mr. Robertson was amused almost as much as had 
 been Sim Senter. The adventures of his own youth 
 were pleasantly recalled to him in the adventure of his 
 boy. He gave so humorous an account of his own fight 
 to Mrs. Robertson and made so light of Bob's bruises 
 that she was less disturbed than Bob had ever hoped for. 
 She even realized some of the trials that Bob had to 
 suffer on account of his reputation as "a mama's boy," 
 and she thought to herself, "Will is right. We must 
 somehow let him have more freedom. Maybe I'm fool- 
 ish about him. But I do love him so !" 
 
 Mr. Robertson began to open the mail. "Ah," he said, 
 "here is another letter from Green & Porter, Cotton 
 Factors, Mamie let me see. Yes, it is the same old 
 thing. They write me again to come to the City as their 
 cotton buyer and grader. And they offer a salary of four 
 thousand a year to begin with and more, if I sell out 
 here and put the proceeds into the business. I am almost 
 
 in
 
 112 White and Black 
 
 tempted. What do you think, Mamie ? That's more than 
 we have any assurance of making here." 
 
 "No, I don't know, Will, we've always lived here, and 
 our people have lived here before us, and I love the place, 
 and then about Bob. I don't think we ought to expose 
 him to the temptations of a city." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" laughed Mr. Robertson, "like a woman to 
 put her real thought in the postscript. Don't you think 
 Bob is ever going to grow up?" 
 
 "Oh, Will," she answered, "not just yet. Let's don't 
 risk it just yet a while." 
 
 "All right, honey, just as you say. But I don't think 
 the temptations in the City are much worse than here. 
 There are temptations everywhere if a man is disposed 
 to get into trouble." 
 
 "Oh, Will, how can you say it? Think of the gambling 
 and the drink and the women ! We have real prohibition 
 here, and I have heard you say myself that you don't 
 know of a single loose woman in this community." 
 
 "I said white woman," answered Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "But, Will, Will, you don't think for a minute, you 
 couldn't think surely you have warned him about that !" 
 
 Bob came down for breakfast. 
 
 "Well, how's the warrior ?" asked Mr. Robertson, grin- 
 ning. 
 
 "Will, you are poking fun at him," said Mrs. Robert- 
 son, reproachfully. 
 
 "Oh, I'm all right and fit as a fiddle," answered Bob, 
 feeling his eye, which was not so swollen, but greatly 
 discolored. "But this eye looks funny, don't it?" 
 
 Mrs. Robertson restrained an impulse to kiss the in- 
 jured member, and said, "I've got the nicest breakfast
 
 White and Black 113 
 
 for you." She stepped to the back door of the hall and 
 called, "Cindy, Cindy, bring in Mr. Bob's breakfast." 
 
 "How are the thumbs?" asked Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Nearly as good as new," said Bob, "but a little rusty 
 in the joints." 
 
 "I remember now it was the big toe on my right foot," 
 said Mr. Robertson. "I had to limp around for nearly 
 a week. Ha ! ha ! ha ! that was some fight. And how I 
 did hate Sim before it came off! But afterwards Sim 
 and I couldn't do enough for each other, and we've stuck 
 together to this good day. Ah, lawzy me !" 
 
 Cindy came bringing in the breakfast. Mrs. Robert- 
 son could not resist putting an arm around Bob and 
 walking with him into the dining-room. 
 
 "Good mawnin', Mr. Bob," said Cindy. "I hyeared 
 you been whuppin' de life out of dat ar Harry Senter." 
 
 "No, Cindy, not as bad as that. It was a sort of draw 
 between us." 
 
 "I boun' it wuz a draw," said Cindy, "I boun' you 
 drawed de blood out of him." 
 
 "Run along, Cindy, and start on the batter-cakes," 
 said Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "I'm a-gwine, Miss Mamie, but dat ar Harry Senter 
 ought to be ashamed of hisse'f a-bustin' Mr. Bob in de 
 eye dat a-way." 
 
 Bob blushed, then said, "But you just ought to see 
 his eye, Cindy." 
 
 "You give it to him, didn't you, Mr. Bob. Haw ! haw ! 
 haw ! I knows you give it to him hot and heavy." 
 
 But Bob began eating, so Cindy went out to cook his 
 batter-cakes. 
 
 "They all love you, don't they, Bob ?" said Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson.
 
 114 White and Black 
 
 "I don't know whether they love me so much or hate 
 Harry," he answered, smiling, "but, gee ! this lip of mine 
 hasn't grown together good yet." 
 
 "Poor sweet lip !" said Mrs. Robertson, and Bob blushed 
 again, but embarrassment was not unmixed with anger 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "Papa got another letter this morning from Green & 
 Porter, urging him to accept the position of head buyer 
 and classer for them in the City," said Mrs. Robertson. 
 "How would you like for us to sell out and move there, 
 Bob?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't know, Mama. What I wouldn't like about 
 it is that Papa would be working for somebody else. I 
 don't like to think of anybody bossing Papa." 
 
 "But we would have more money, and if we could 
 sell out here, Papa could buy a share in the business and 
 be a member of the firm." 
 
 "That might be better, but still he would have to do 
 what the others say. And then, Mama, would you like 
 the idea of giving up this place ? It has come down to us, 
 you know." 
 
 "Oh, honey, the City has no attraction for you, then ?" 
 
 "So, Mama, you were just trying to find that out, were 
 you?" 
 
 Mrs. Robertson blushed. "Well, honey, you know I 
 don't want to do anything except what is for your good." 
 
 "But if you could just leave me alone a little!" Bob 
 exclaimed petulantly. 
 
 Tears stood in Mrs. Robertson's eyes. Cindy brought 
 in the batter-cakes and went out again as she wanted to 
 have words with Cyrus before he could escape to the 
 field from which he had come for a drink of water. 
 
 Bob said, "Oh, well, it don't make any difference to
 
 White and Black 115 
 
 me. We'll go to the City or we'll stay here, just as you 
 say." And he devoured the batter-cakes as rapidly as 
 possible. 
 
 "Oh, Bob, Bob !" Mrs. Robertson exclaimed, reproach- 
 fully, as a tear ran down her cheek. 
 
 "Well, Mama, I don't want to hurt your feelings I am 
 always hurting your feelings but what more can I say?" 
 
 "Honey, excuse me, I didn't mean " 
 
 There was an uproar in the back-yard. Cindy's voice 
 was crying, "And I says you did. And it's got to stop, 
 nigger, it's got to stop !" 
 
 From Cyrus came, "Dey ain't no woman kin talk to me 
 like dat. I'll bus' yo' head open wid " 
 
 Mr. Robertson came running by the dining-room door, 
 calling, "Stop that, Cindy ! Stop that, Cyrus !" 
 
 Bob and his mother rushed to the back porch. Mr. 
 Robertson was in the yard and was holding Cyrus by the 
 collar of his shirt. "What on earth do you mean, raising 
 such a row?" he cried angrily. 
 
 "Make Cindy lem'me 'lone, Mr. Will," said Cyrus, sul- 
 lenly. 
 
 "What are you doing to him, Cindy?" 
 
 "I ain't doin' nuthin', Mr. Will. But he's got to leave 
 Rosy alone." 
 
 "I ain't said fo' words to Rosy," declared Cyrus. 
 
 "You give her my bangle, dat's whut you done." 
 
 "I never !" 
 
 "You did!" 
 
 "Waal, whut's a little old bangle" 
 
 "Cyrus, I am not going to have anything of that sort 
 on this place," said Mr. Robertson sternly, "go this 
 minute and get that bangle and bring it back to Cindy." 
 
 "Yassuh, Mr. Will, but how's I gwine to "
 
 n6 White and Black 
 
 "I don't know how you're 'gwine to,' you can steal it 
 from her, for all I care." Then as if a comic side of the 
 thing struck him, he smiled, broke into a laugh, and said, 
 "Trot now, Cyrus." 
 
 Cyrus started to go, looked sheepishly at Mr. Will, 
 then a gleam came into his eye, the corners of his mouth 
 twitched, and he could not restrain a guffaw, "Haw ! haw ! 
 haw!" 
 
 When he was out of hearing, Mr. Robertson said, 
 "Cindy, Cyrus is a good-natured nigger and you'd better 
 marry him as soon as possible." 
 
 "Hunh ! Mr. Will, I never is gwine to marry dat nigger 
 till he axes my pahdon," said Cindy, going back toward 
 the kitchen. 
 
 "Oh, all right," said Mr. Robertson, laughing more 
 heartily still, "I will make him give back your bangle and 
 'ax your pahdon,' too." 
 
 "Waal, suh, den dey may be somep'n doin'," answered 
 Cindy with a toss of her head.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THURSDAY morning of the same week Mr. Robertson 
 was sitting on the front porch reading the paper. There 
 came walking to the house and on straight up into the 
 porch a Negro of twenty-one or twenty-two, flashily 
 dressed in bright yellow shoes, blue peg-topped trousers, 
 striped shirt, flowing red tie, dazzling white collar, and 
 stiff straw hat surrounded by a gaudy band of red, blue 
 and yellow. 
 
 "Dey's got de ole man, an' he say come down dar an' 
 git him out," he announced to Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Pull off that hat," thundered Mr. Robertson at him. 
 
 The Negro jerked off his hat saucily. 
 
 "Don't you ever come into my house until I tell you, 
 and then don't you come without pulling off your hat. 
 You must be Madison Mulberry's boy." 
 
 "Yassuh, I'm Ulysses." 
 
 "You've been away for two or three years ?" 
 
 "Yassuh, I been in de City," he answered with an air 
 of importance. 
 
 "What have you been doing in the City ?" 
 
 "I been workin', mostly in de railroad shops, an' I 
 been gittin' my fo' dollars a day." 
 
 "I didn't ask you what you've been getting ! What are 
 you doing back here?" 
 
 "I los' my job. I wuzn't gwine to take nuthin' off 
 dat fo'man " 
 
 "Never mind about that. What did you come here 
 to tell me?"
 
 Il8 White and Black 
 
 "Dey got de ole man in jail down here at Compton." 
 
 "Who? Madison?" 
 
 "Yassuh." 
 
 "What for?" 
 
 "Dey say he took some shotes b'longin' to Sim Sen- 
 ter. M 
 
 "You mean Mr. Senter." 
 
 "Dey say he took 'em/' repeated Ulysses, defiantly. 
 
 At that moment Bob came out on the porch. "Hello, 
 Bob!" said Ulysses. 
 
 Bob flushed, but before he could say anything, Mr. 
 Robertson commanded, "Address my son as Mr. Bob." 
 
 "Mis-ter Bob!" said Ulysses sneeringly. 
 
 Mr. Robertson had arisen and was standing near 
 Ulysses. . Quickly he seized the son of Madison by the 
 shoulders, turned him around to face the front, and kicked 
 him tumbling down the steps. "Get up from there and 
 get out of this yard, you infernal scoundrel, and don't 
 you ever set foot in it again." He stood glaring. 
 
 Ulysses picked himself up and limped out of the gate. 
 Mr. Robertson and Bob watched him till he came to the 
 road and turned toward John Ramsey's house. 
 
 "The impudent rascal, he'll cause trouble here yet. I 
 ought to run him clear away." 
 
 "He ought to be beat till he couldn't stand up," said 
 Bob. 
 
 "He will go over to John's now with a great tale, I 
 reckon," said Mr. Robertson, and then his anger subsid- 
 ing, he added, "and I imagine those clothes will cause quite 
 a flutter in John's dove-cot, eh, Bob. Sally could hardly 
 stand out against them, eh?" 
 
 For days thereafter Mr. Robertson wondered why Bob
 
 White and Black 119 
 
 blushed so intensely as he answered, "That nigger ought 
 to be run out of this country, Papa. He is going to give 
 us trouble." 
 
 "Yes, I expect he will," answered Mr. Robertson, "but 
 tell Cyrus to saddle up our horses. They've got Madison 
 in jail down there for stealing some hogs from Sim 
 Senter. We had better go down and get him out, but 
 I don't see why Sim didn't say something to me about it 
 before he had him arrested. I don't like to have my nig- 
 gers arrested and slapped in jail this way " 
 
 When they reached Compton they found Sim Senter 
 outside of the office of the justice of the peace at the 
 court house. "Sim, why didn't you say something to me 
 about Madison before you had him arrested?" asked 
 Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "I would have, Mr. Will, but that nigger sassed me 
 somethin' awful, an' I come mighty nigh to killin' that 
 Lys of his." 
 
 "How did it happen?" 
 
 "Well, Madison stold my two red Jersey shotes an' 
 sold 'em to John Ramsey for the Nineteenth. I got the 
 goods on him so he couldn't twist out of it. An' yestiddy 
 evenin' I went over an' taxed him with it, and told him 
 he had to pay me for them shotes or go to jail. He denied 
 it, an' lit out to cussin'. An' that Lys come out and put 
 in, an' said he wuzn't goin' to stand for no low down 
 white trash accusin' his daddy of stealin', an' he cussed 
 around, too. I didn't have no gun with me, an' I knowed 
 they had, so I had to take what they said. I wuz so mad 
 I didn't have right good sense, so the fust thing I thought 
 of wuz to come up hyeer an' git the constable. So he 
 went back with me an' we brought Madison up hyeer late
 
 I2O White and Black 
 
 yestiddy evenin' an' put him in jail. An' I reckon it's a 
 good thing after all, 'cause if I had ha' gone home an' 
 told Harry about it, the upshot of it would ha' been that 
 me an' Harry would ha' got our guns an' gone over 
 there an' shot hell out of Madison and Lys both." 
 
 "Well, I reckon it is better so," said Mr. Robertson. 
 "Madison is still in jail, then?" 
 
 "Yes, he's over there," answered Sim. 
 
 "You wouldn't mind my bailin' him out, would you, 
 Sim ? You see his crop -has got to be worked some yet ?" 
 
 "Naw, I wouldn't mind that so much, but you'd better 
 tell him, Mr. Will, to stay over on his side of the place 
 and not come nigh me or mine." 
 
 "I'll see to that," said Mr. Robertson. "Is Squire 
 Meekin inside there?" 
 
 "Yes, he wuz jus' waitin' for you to come." 
 
 "All right, then we'll go in." 
 
 They went inside. "Good morning, Squire," said Mr. 
 Robertson. 
 
 "Good mawnin', Will. And that's Bob, ain't it? 
 How're you, Bob ? We've got one* of your niggers, 
 Will'." 
 
 "Yes, so I understand. I reckon there's no use in 
 having an examining trial, Squire. He probably took the 
 hogs, and I'll go his bail." 
 
 "Of course that'll be all right, Will," said Squire Meek- 
 in, and added, speaking to the constable, "Jim, run over 
 and git Madison while I make out the bail bond. Two 
 hundred dollars will be enough, I reckon. Is that all 
 right, Will?" 
 
 "Yes, that's little enough, Squire," said Mr. Robert- 
 son, as the constable left to bring in the prisoner. And 
 then he said to Sim, "Sim, would you mind stepping out-
 
 White and Black I2l! 
 
 side a while. I'd like to talk to Madison when they bring 
 him in." 
 
 "You be sure to lay down the law to him, Mr. Will, for 
 him to keep clear of me and mine," answered Sim, as he 
 went out. 
 
 After a few minutes Madison was brought in. He and 
 Mr. Robertson signed the bond. 
 
 "Now, look here, Madison," said Mr. Robertson, "you 
 understand that I am getting you out of jail." 
 
 "Yassuh." 
 
 "I might let you stay there. And if I did, nobody else 
 would bother about you. You understand that?" 
 
 "Yassuh." 
 
 "You are to appear here at the term of court that con- 
 venes on the first Monday in October, to be tried." 
 
 "Yassuh." 
 
 "In the mean time you are to stay on your own side of 
 the place and you are to keep yourself and your folks 
 away from Mr. Senter and his folks. If you are about 
 to meet any of them in the road or anywhere, you turn 
 clear out and give them the right of way, so that you 
 won't meet 'em." 
 
 "Yassuh." 
 
 "As soon as you get home, you put Ulysses to work 
 in the field or drive him off the place. I won't have him 
 swelling around here. You understand that." 
 
 "Yassuh." 
 
 "If you don't do just as I say, I will turn you back 
 to Squire Meekin to put you in jail again. Get that in 
 your head and hold it there." 
 
 "Yassuh." 
 
 "What are you so sullen about ?" 
 
 "I ain't sullen."
 
 122 White and Black 
 
 "You are, don't lie to me. You've got some devilment 
 in your head right now, and I'm a mind to slap you back 
 in jail for a week or so." 
 
 "Naw, suh, I ain't studdin' no devilment. I'm gwine 
 to work my crop." 
 
 "Well, see that you do. I'll be over there to-morrow, 
 and want to see you and Ulysses both hard at it." 
 
 "Yassuh. Is you white folks done wid me?" 
 
 "Yes, go on home," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 After he had left, Squire Meekin said, "Watch out, 
 Will, you're goin' to have trouble with that nigger." 
 
 "Yes, I wish I had gotten rid of him long ago," an- 
 swered Mr. Robertson. "He probably stole the hogs all 
 right, and they will send him to the pen this fall, and 
 then I'll have his old woman and kids on my hands to 
 take care of." 
 
 "I believe her and the chillun would make a better 
 crop without him," said the squire, "if you could git shut 
 of that Ulysses." 
 
 "I'm going to run him out of the country," answered 
 Mr. Robertson. Then he added, speaking to Bob, "Son, 
 I wish you'd skip over to the post-office and get the mail, 
 I want to go and see Mr. Hiram Shorter about Madison's 
 account." 
 
 On his way to the post-office, Bob met Minnie Deane. 
 
 She said, "Hello, Bob," her brown eyes dancing with 
 pleasure at the meeting, "where have you been all this 
 time, and what have you been doing?" 
 
 "Hello, Minnie," answered Bob with some embarrass- 
 ment. "I haven't been doing anything much." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you have, I bet you've been up to some mis- 
 chief," and she laughed merrily.
 
 White and Black 123 
 
 Bob blushed, and his glance dropped as the vivid recol- 
 lection of the mischief flashed into his mind, and with it 
 there came a keen consciousness of Minnie's sex. Hith- 
 erto his feeling about her had been vague, a nebulous 
 haze of sentiment. He thought her very pretty, very 
 sweet, very attractive, and as somehow enshrined in his 
 holy of holies. It had been his custom to think of her 
 as becoming his wife after a number of years, but even 
 then his imagination had pictured her as a sort of saintly 
 virgin wearing an aureole of purity, and as walking by 
 his side guiding him on his way to things high and noble. 
 Actually and consciously to connect the physiological 
 fact of sex with her had not occurred to him. But now 
 an indelicate picture of reality marred that vision. An 
 evil light shone upon the haze, dissolving it, and she 
 stood there a female. 
 
 "Oh, I haven't been doing anything," he said clumsily. 
 
 Minnie laughed. "As if you ever could get into any 
 real mischief ! But I hear you have got to be a slugger, 
 a regular Jim Corbett, or is it Mr. Fitzsimmons I am 
 talking to?" 
 
 "Not much of either, I reckon," said Bob aloud with 
 a self-conscious grin, but it was as if he were whispering 
 to himself, "They are all alike, all alike," and a feeling 
 of dismay and shame mixed with a leering exultation 
 came over him. 
 
 "There is something the matter with you, Bob!" ex- 
 claimed Minnie, " I believe the truth is you were licked !" 
 She laughed teasingly, then instantly her countenance 
 changed. "Oh, Bob, you were not really hurt, were you ?" 
 
 "Oh, no," said Bob, pulling himself out of his abstrac- 
 tion, "it didn't amount to anything. They separated us."
 
 124 White and Black 
 
 "Tell me about it, Bob." 
 
 "Oh, it wasn't anything. I got my lip split, so I couldn't 
 laugh much for a day or two, and my eye bunged up, but 
 they are well now." 
 
 "I wonder if laughing was all that lip interfered with," 
 said Minnie archly. 
 
 "Well, I couldn't eat so good," answered Bob. 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed Minnie, "did you fall off much 
 during that time ?" 
 
 "Oh, shucks !" said Bob, "let's go by the drug-store and 
 get some soda-water." 
 
 They walked down the street together, Minnie chat- 
 tering gaily and feeling proud to exhibit Bob, as it were, 
 in a certain thralldrom before the eyes of the towns- 
 people. But Bob was thinking, "If she knew everything' 
 and everybody else knew it, I wonder if she would walk 
 -along here with me. And if she knew it and nobody 
 else did, I wonder what she would do. Oh, it is shameful 
 for me even to think of her knowing it! Oh, she never 
 had a thought about such a thing in her life and yet, 
 and yet oh, I wish I never had done it." 
 
 For a moment he felt downcast, quite humiliated, then 
 there stole into him again that curious exultation that he 
 knew was evil, but that he could not find it in his heart 
 utterly to repress. 
 
 In the meantime Ulysses had brushed himself off with 
 a large purple-bordered handkerchief, had smoothed his 
 rumpled attire, recovered his jaunty air of self-assurance, 
 and arrived at John Ramsey's house. 
 
 The first person he saw was Sally. She was standing 
 on the front porch. "Hello, Sally," he said, "whar's yo' 
 paw?"
 
 White and Black 125 
 
 "He's down in de fiel'," she answered. Then looking 
 at him more closely, she exclaimed, "Waal, if dat ain't 
 Lys ! Lawd sakes ! Lys, whar did you come from ?" 
 
 "I come from de City. I wouldn't stay in no little 
 ole hole like dis hyeer Compton." 
 
 "How you is dressed up !" 
 
 "Hunh, I been whar dey is money, loose money, plenty 
 of it." 
 
 "Is you got much of it wid you?" asked Sally, laugh- 
 ing shrilly. 
 
 "I got jes' enough not to be givin' none of it away," 
 he answered mockingly. Then another idea seemed to 
 strike him, his expression changed, and he said, "Sally, 
 you's a good-lookin' chicken. If you'll go back to 
 de City wid me when I goes, I'll show you whar de 
 money is." 
 
 "Hunh, nigger, you don't ketch me runnin' roun' de 
 country wid no triflin' trash like you." 
 
 Rosy came out on the porch. "Hello, Lys," she said. 
 
 "Hello, yo'se'f , Rosy," answered Lys, "how's you gittin' 
 on?" 
 
 "You needn't to be talkin' to Sally 'bout goin' anywhar 
 wid you," said Rosy. "She's a-flyin' at high game dese 
 times, de highest game dey is," and she laughed malic- 
 iously. 
 
 "Hunh, dey ain't no high game roun' hyeer," sneered 
 Ulysses. 
 
 "Dey's a lots higher dan whut you is," answered Sally. 
 
 "How high you think Mr. Bob is ?" asked Rosy. 
 
 "Mister Bob? Shucks! I calls him Bob. He ain't 
 knee high to a duck. Dat's how high he is. I bet his 
 daddy don't give him a dollar a week." 
 
 Sally was somewhat taken aback, but she managed to
 
 126 White and Black 
 
 answer, "Waal, nemmine, I knows whut I knows. But 
 whut did you come hyeer for?" 
 
 "Oh, dey got my ole man in jail down yonder for takin' 
 some shotes from Sim Senter, and he say for me to tell 
 yo' paw he better swear right when de time come." 
 
 "Dey got him, is dey," said Sally, "an' I boun' it ain't 
 gwine to be long bef o' dey got you, too." 
 
 "Dey ain't never gwine to git me," answered Ulysses, 
 "but you better tell yo' paw to look out, my ole man'll 
 git him if he don't swear right. An' he ain't all we gwine 
 to git, neither." 
 
 "You talkin' mighty big," said Sally. 
 
 "Big or little, you jes' look out," he said, turning to 
 go. "Hunh ! Mister Bob ! Dey thinks dey kin go on 
 runnin' over us, but I'll show 'em, jus' you wait, I'll show
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 ON the following Sunday Brother Maxcy and the pre- 
 siding elder, Brother Moreton, who was a sort of eccle- 
 siastical supervisor, came to dinner with the Robertsons. 
 Sister Maxcy was away on a visit to her people in West 
 Texas. It was the time for the quarterly conference to 
 meet in Compton, and Brother Moreton had stayed over 
 to preach the Sunday morning sermon. 
 
 At the table the talk turned on the spiritual condition 
 of the community. Brother Moreton, being as one in 
 authority, held forth. "Sin is rampant everywhere. When 
 I look about me, I am appalled. Men will not take the 
 gospel and apply it to their hearts and conduct. I labor in 
 the vineyard of the Lord till I am exhausted, and, still, 
 dancing and card-playing and horse-racing and 'Sassiety* 
 go on in their mad race. I ask you, Sister Robertson, as 
 a good Christian woman, what would become of the world 1 
 if it wasn't for the poorly paid, self-denying ministers of 
 the gospel?" 
 
 "Oh, probably we are paid as much as we are really 
 worth," interposed Brother Maxcy. "Many of us ac- 
 complish very little, God knows, in the way of holy liv- 
 ing." 
 
 "How can you say such a thing, Maxcy, and in the 
 presence of Brother Bob, too? Will you teach our Chris- 
 tian young men to fail in reverence for the ministers of 
 God?" 
 
 Mr. Robertson hastened to say, "I am sure our min- 
 isters are not paid near enough." 
 
 127
 
 ia8 White and Black 
 
 And Mrs. Robertson, "I know Bob never will fail in 
 reverence for a minister of the gospel. Why, Brother 
 Moreton, he never has danced a step and he doesn't know 
 one card from another." 
 
 "It rejoices me to know, Sister Robertson, that one 
 young man, and him a scion of one of our most prominent 
 families materially as well as spiritually, is being brought 
 up as a true Christian." 
 
 "And he experienced such a bright conversion at our 
 last revival, Brother Moreton." 
 
 "Oh, I heard of it, and it filled my heart with joy, a 
 deep spiritual joy, to know that one who is to be endowed 
 with this world's goods that might have proved a snare 
 to him, a sinful, wicked, deceitful snare, had confessed 
 his Savior and surrendered all on His altar. Oh, he will 
 be a pillar of the church, a glorious pillar of the church 
 like his father before him!" 
 
 Brother Maxcy saw that Bob was feeling very uncom- 
 fortable, so to change the subject, remarked, "I hear you 
 have been having some trouble among your tenants, 
 Brother Robertson." 
 
 "Yes, a hog-stealing case, but I suppose it is settled 
 until court now. And I reckon I can get Madison off 
 with the lowest sentence. You know it's sorter natural' 
 for a nigger to steal shotes, especially when there is to be 
 a Nineteenth celebration and he hasn't got any money." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so, the poor things," said Brother 
 Maxcy. 
 
 "Well, I don't know," Brother Moreton took the word, 
 "an example has to be made. They must be taught to re- 
 spect the rights of property. 'Thou shalt not steal' is as 
 important a commandment as any other, I apprehend. 
 Brother Robertson, you stewards and official members
 
 White and Black 129 
 
 should set an example of law enforcement, so that the ter- 
 rors of the law may restrain evil-doers. Was it your hogs 
 he stole, Brother Robertson?" 
 
 "No, they belonged to Sim Senter, a white tenant of 
 mine." 
 
 "Oh," said Brother Moreton, "well, anyway, he ought 
 to be punished." 
 
 "That's what I tell Papa," Bob found courage to say, 
 "but he's so tender-hearted." 
 
 "Yes, I believe Will would give everything he has to 
 the niggers if he had his way about it," said Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 "Oh, no, not so bad as that," answered Mr. Robertson, 
 "but Brother Moreton, did you ever have a sort of feel- 
 ing that really it is unjust for some of us to live in 
 abundance and others to have so little, and especially when 
 those others do the actual work?" 
 
 "No, no, Brother Robertson, that's flying in the face 
 of Providence. The good Lord distributes his abundance 
 as he divinely sees fit. To some he gives ten talents, to 
 others one, and blessed be His will." 
 
 "I have a sort of sneaking notion," said Mr. Robert- 
 son, "that men have a good deal to do with the distribu- 
 tion." 
 
 Brother Maxcy laughed, but Brother Moreton looked 
 more serious than ever and said, "It is through just such 
 doors that socialism and anarchism and a thousand other 
 pernicious isms seek to enter Christian hearts, Brother 
 Robertson. Let Christians give of their substance to the 
 church of God, and that church will sufficiently care for 
 the poor and needy. Oh, why are men so hard of heart 
 and will not contribute joyfully, abundantly of their means 
 to the church of the living God ?"
 
 130 White and Black 
 
 He glared around impressively, and Mr. Robertson felt 
 abashed, as if he were not giving enough to the church. 
 He resolved to think about increasing his contribution, 
 but found himself asking, "Brother Moreton, what do you 
 think about niggers in Heaven? Will they be like us 
 there?" 
 
 "It is not given me to know," answered Brother More- 
 ton, "but I do know that the redeeming blood of Jesus 
 Christ can wash away all impurities of sin, why not then 
 of color?" 
 
 "But aren't those impurities of sin washed away here 
 and now?" 
 
 "Yes, most certainly they are, and through the divine 
 process of conversion we are made pure and undefiled. 
 And and but but with color somehow it is different," 
 he finished lamely. 
 
 Brother Maxcy said, "Doesn't the fact seem to be that 
 if God had wanted us to associate here intimately and on 
 terms of equality with niggers, that he would have made 
 them more like us or us more like them? And isn't it 
 our duty to act in accord with known facts, leaving the 
 unknown future to take care of itself under the guidance 
 of God?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, certainly," answered Brother Moreton, "but 
 you don't mean to say that the future of God's children 
 is unknown?" 
 
 "Oh, I merely mean to say that I don't know whether 
 niggers are going to be made white in Heaven or not, 
 and," he continued with spirit, "I don't believe anybody 
 else does." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, certainly not, but then they may be." 
 
 "Well, I hope they will be," said Brother Maxcy, "and 
 one thing is certain, they've got to be, if I associate with
 
 White and Black r !3'l! 
 
 'em on terms of equality. The only way they ever can 
 be made white here is by hundreds of years of miscegena- 
 tion, and I don't fancy the process !" 
 
 If Sister Maxcy had been present, she might have been 
 gratified to see her saint angry at least once. But his 
 heat arose really out of the circumstance that he dis- 
 trusted and disliked Brother Moreton, believing him to be 
 a hypocrite. And, indeed, he had gone much further than 
 he had intended at the outset. 
 
 Brother Moreton held up his hand. "To think of using 
 such a word in the presence of Brother Bob and Sister 
 Robertson," he said in a tone of rebuke. "I am humil- 
 iated, mortified!" 
 
 "If we had more plain speaking, we might have more 
 righteous acting," snapped Brother Maxcy, realizing that 
 Brother Moreton had put him at a disadvantage. 
 
 "Ah, well," said Mr. Robertson, smiling, "there's plenty 
 of room for more righteous acting. But I move we ad- 
 journ to the hall," and he rose from his seat, the meal 
 having been finished. 
 
 Mrs. Robertson stayed in the dining-room to see about 
 the putting away of her best napkins and silver that were 
 brought out only on special occasions. The men took 
 seats in the hall for a smoke, and Bob escaped from the 
 company of the preachers, by alleging that he had to go 
 and see if the horses had had their noon watering. 
 
 "As only we are present," said Brother Moreton, "and 
 as I am deeply interested in the spiritual improvement of 
 this and the other communities in my district, I should 
 like to ask if illicit relations between white men and 
 Negro women are as frequent here as ever, or is there 
 an improvement in the conduct and sentiment of the 
 people?"
 
 132 White and Black 
 
 "I think there is some improvement," said Mr. Robert- 
 son. "It doesn't seem to me to be so common as it used 
 to be. What do you think about it, Brother Maxcy?" 
 
 "I agree with you," answered Brother Maxcy, "although 
 there is only too much of it still." 
 
 "Is it not true, Maxcy, that Brother Hiram Shorter, 
 who sings- in your choir, is suspected of such relations ?" 
 
 "It is more than a suspicion. It amounts to quite posi- 
 tive knowledge," answered Brother Maxcy. 
 
 "Is the ah woman young or particularly attractive 
 looking?" 
 
 "Well, yes, the present one is young, and for a nigger, 
 attractive looking. She is Rosy, a daughter of one of 
 Brother Robertson's tenants, and she is a bright mulatto." 
 
 "Ah, a bright mulatto, is she ? And may I ask if there 
 have been or are to be any ah ah consequences of 
 this relation?" 
 
 "Well, I have been told that she is soon to have a 
 baby," answered Brother Maxcy. 
 
 "Umph-hunh! And how do you reconcile those facts 
 with the fact that such a debauchee is permitted to sing 
 in your choir?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hiram is not a debauchee," said Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, laughing. "Ha! ha! ha! the idea of Mr. Hiram 
 being a debauchee !" 
 
 "Well, what would you call him, Brother Robertson?" 
 And Brother Moreton pursed up his lips as if he had 
 asked a poser. 
 
 "I don't know exactly," he answered, still smiling, "what 
 would you call him, Brother Maxcy?" 
 
 "I would call him first a kind-hearted human being, 
 second, a good bookkeeper, third, a polite and considerate 
 gentleman, fourth, a mighty poor singer, and fifth, a sin-
 
 White and Black [133 
 
 ner who needs a lot of sympathy and tactful guidance," 
 answered Brother Maxcy with a smile on his lips, but with 
 a gleam of defiance in his eye. 
 
 "His singing doesn't then ah contribute to the ah 
 harmony of your choir?" asked Brother Moreton. 
 
 "No, rather interferes with 'it than otherwise, I think. 
 But it is so bad anyway that I don't think it makes much 
 difference." 
 
 "And your idea of sympathy and tactful guidance is to 
 let him continue to sing in the choir?" 
 
 "Partly that," answered Brother Maxcy. 
 
 "But have you not thought of the devastating effect 
 that such an example, receiving as it were the endorse- 
 ment of the church, is bound to have on the morals of the 
 young men of the community?" 
 
 "Yes, I have thought of that." 
 
 "Well, how do you explain your attitude? I am sure 
 that the Bishop will be interested to hear." 
 
 "I haven't explained it." 
 
 "Perhaps you will have the kindness, then, to explain 
 it now." 
 
 "Oh, what's the use?" And Brother Maxcy threw out 
 his hands in a petulant gesture. "But I might as well. 
 Knowing Mr. Hiram Shorter's character and history as 
 I do, I think the one thread binding him to religion is 
 his singing in the choir, and I am unwilling to cut that 
 thread, even at the risk of possible injury to some young 
 men. By not cutting it I think I shall save Mr. Hiram, 
 by cutting it I don't know that I would save anybody." 
 
 "And yet he is practising the very miscegenation that 
 you condemn so violently?" 
 
 "Yes, he is." 
 
 "The thing about Brother Maxcy," interposed Mr.
 
 ft34 White and Black 
 
 Robertson, "is that he condemns the sin, but he loves 
 the sinner. We all know that, and we would do anything 
 in reason for him." 
 
 Brother Maxcy jerked out his handkerchief and blew 
 his nose violently and dabbed at his eyes two or three 
 times, although up to then he had shown no signs of a 
 cold. 
 
 "Would it be in reason for Mr. Hiram Shorter to give 
 up that practice for him ?" asked Brother Moreton. 
 
 "Well, yes, in time it will, I am sure it will," answered 
 Mr. Robertson, "if nobody interferes and goes to lec- 
 turing Mr. Hiram or turning him out of the choir. But 
 it will take some time." 
 
 "Well, maybe, we had better return Maxcy to this 
 charge next year for Mr. Hiram's sake," said Brother 
 Moreton sarcastically. 
 
 "By all means, for all our sakes," said Mr. Robertson 
 with enthusiasm. 
 
 Compton was not a desirable station, so there was a 
 gleam of satisfaction in Brother Moreton's eye as he said, 
 "I shall certainly recommend that to the Bishop. And by 
 the way, Bishop Macdonald is to have charge of this 
 Conference next fall, and if I do say it, I am his most 
 trusted adviser. In the Cabinet he always asks my opin- 
 ion first." 
 
 "But speaking of miscegenation, Brother Moreton," 
 said Mr. Robertson, "I understand that you have preached 
 in various parts of Texas and indeed in many different 
 sections of the South, and I should like to know if you 
 think it is as common elsewhere as in our immediate com- 
 munity." 
 
 "Well, yes and no," answered Brother Moreton. 
 "Wherever niggers are in the majority, or at least in
 
 White and Black 135 
 
 large numbers, it is very common, particularly in the rural 
 districts. I say particularly in the rural districts, because 
 in the cities the contact between white and black is hardly 
 so close, and then besides in the cities I am sorry to say 
 that there are generally many white women of ill-repute. 
 And other things being equal, of course a sinful white 
 man would prefer a white woman." 
 
 "And what do you think will be the cure for it, if there 
 is any cure?" asked Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "The same cure as for all of the sins of humanity, the 
 church of the living God," proclaimed Brother Moreton 
 with emphasis, "but the trouble is that our laymen with- 
 hold their means from the treasury of the Lord, and so 
 the power of the church is crippled." 
 
 "I don't believe that is the reason," said Brother Maxcy, 
 "if the church had forty times as much money, that still 
 would not effect a cure." 
 
 "Well, what in the name of common sense do you 
 believe is the reason, Maxcy?" 
 
 "I think it is a whole lot of things, the comparative 
 defenselessness of niggers, passion and vanity in black 
 women, lust in white men, timidity, poverty, and lack 
 of faith in the teaching of the church." 
 
 "Well, how are you going to cure them unless you have 
 more money to build more churches, to hire more and 
 better preachers, to spread the gospel ? Answer me that." 
 
 "For one thing I think there should be a reformation 
 in the church beginning at the top. First we ought to 
 clean our own house." 
 
 "Do you mean to accuse our bishops and connectional 
 officers and presiding elders and prominent ministers with 
 laxness or dissoluteness or corruption? Do you mean
 
 136 White and Black 
 
 that?" exclaimed Brother Moreton, losing his temper 
 altogether. 
 
 "I don't mean to accuse anybody of anything, and, of 
 course, not the ministry of miscegenation," answered 
 Brother Maxcy. "You asked me what I thought and I 
 told you. But a blind man could see that when it comes 
 to any real self-denial, we don't practise what we preach. 
 We are as avid of money as anybody and as servile before 
 it. We are like ordinary politicians, we plot and scheme 
 for personal preferment. We seek power, not holiness, 
 and we make piety a mask for that seeking." 
 
 Before Brother Moreton could answer, Mr. Robertson 
 interposed. "Brother Moreton, I am anxious to know what 
 you think about the activities of the Ku Klux Klan. They 
 seem to be spreading throughout the South and indeed 
 the papers say there are many branches in the North, 
 too." 
 
 "Yes, I have noticed," said Brother Moreton, glaring 
 at Brother Maxcy, "I have noticed. And I am not sure it 
 wouldn't be a good thing for them to operate in this com- 
 munity. I haven't heard of where they have punished 
 anybody but evil-doers. And they seem to have made a 
 specialty of people like Mr. Hiram Shorter, Maxcy's 
 great friend. One thing certain is that their treatment 
 would cure him of miscegenation more effectually than 
 ten years of singing in the choir." He chuckled, "Yes, 
 that would cure him." 
 
 "But, Brother Moreton, surely you do not realize how 
 such activity as theirs flouts all law, disregards every 
 civil right of a citizen, denies and tramples upon the 
 guarantees of our constitutions, state and national, sub- 
 stitutes the savagery of a mob for ordered judicial pro-
 
 White and Black 137 
 
 cesses, and, if unchecked, will plunge us back into bar- 
 barism!" said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Oh, Brother Robertson, I think you take the matter 
 too seriously. They are not going to harm anybody like 
 you or me or Maxcy. And there are offenses that the 
 law don't seem to reach." 
 
 "Why not revive the Holy Inquisition and be done with 
 it?" asked Brother Maxcy. "That was at least in the 
 hands of the church." 
 
 "Well," began Brother Moreton angrily, but he was 
 interrupted by the coming of Mrs. Robertson, which 
 turned the talk to other matters. 
 
 In the course of the ensuing conversation Brother More- 
 ton took occasion to say, "Sister Robertson, I have re- 
 solved on my rounds this year to make the subject of 
 family prayer my special province. I know it is hardly 
 necessary for me to inquire about this family, for I am 
 sure that you gather around the family altar night and 
 morning for the reading of the Word and for commun- 
 ion with our heavenly Father." 
 
 Mrs. Robertson blushed, hung her head, and cast an 
 embarrassed look at her husband, "Well, I I " she 
 stammered. 
 
 Mr. Robertson came to her relief, but there was a guilty 
 look in his eye as if he had committed a crime or been 
 guilty of a great dereliction. "No, Brother Moreton, the 
 fact is," he said, "that for a while after the last revival 
 we had family prayers of mornings, but, but we didn't all 
 get up at the same time, and er it wasn't very con- 
 venient, so we just kinder fell out of the way of it." 
 
 "I'm grieved, truly grieved to hear it, Brother Robert- 
 son. And and, Maxcy, I suppose the institution of fam- 
 ily prayer is not generally observed in your charge."
 
 138 White and Black 
 
 "No, I don't think it is," answered Brother Maxcy, 
 and he added defiantly, "nor in any other charge now- 
 adays." 
 
 "Please do not assume to speak about other charges 
 too certainly, Maxcy. There is danger of misrepresenta- 
 tion where the facts are not known." 
 
 Without answering, Brother Maxcy rose from his seat, 
 went out to the front porch, and walked up and down it, 
 gazing over hill and dale of the farms spread out before 
 him. But in the bright sunshine of the Sabbath after- 
 noon his eyes seemed to see a dark mist lowering above 
 the smiling land. 
 
 When the ministers were gone, Mr. Robertson said to 
 his wife, "Mamie, you know I'm not a profane man, but 
 I'll be damned if that Moreton shall ever set his foot 
 in this house again !" 
 
 "But, Will, he is our presiding elder." 
 
 "I don't care if he is our President-elect, the outside of 
 this house is all he will ever see!"
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 AT dusk on Tuesday, after the day's work was over, 
 Joe Williams came to have a talk with Mr. Robertson. 
 He stood respectfully at the front steps with his hat off, 
 saying, "Mr. Will, I wants to speak to you about a mat- 
 ter." 
 
 "All right, Joe," answered Mr. Robertson, who was 
 sitting on the porch, "sit down on the step there and tell 
 me about it." 
 
 "Waal, suh, our new paschur say de Shady Grove 
 Church house is a disgrace to de Babtis' religion, an' 
 he say we must make it bigger an' fix it up. An' he got 
 de plans all ready, an' it will cost a thousand dollars." 
 
 "And you want me to subscribe something?" said Mr. 
 Robertson, smiling. 
 
 "Waal, suh, you see dey done 'pinted a committee to 
 collect, and Fs de cheerman of de committee, and of co'se 
 I got to git up de most of any of 'em. An' de paschur 
 say go to de bes' ones fust and let dem set a high water 
 mark for de others to come up to, so I come to you 
 de ve'y fust one of all." 
 
 "That's the speech of a diplomat, Joe, I congratulate 
 you." 
 
 "Yassuh, when Christ's disciples needed anything, dey 
 always come a-runnin' to de Master fust off, an' dat's 
 whut I'm a-doin', Mr. Will." 
 
 "Well, now, Joe, that's putting it pretty strongly. I 
 couldn't possibly get out of giving you something now, 
 could I? Your new 'paschur' has a good eye when it 
 
 139
 
 140 White and Black 
 
 comes to choosing a chairman for his collection com- 
 mittee. How much did you hope to get out of me?" 
 
 "Waal, Mr. Will, you know us black folk can't do 
 much by ourselves, an' we boun' to call on de white folks 
 to do de most of it." 
 
 "I don't know, Joe, the Shady Grove Church must have 
 something like a hundred and fifty members. It would 
 come to only about seven dollars apiece." 
 
 "Yassuh, but lots of 'em is women an' chillun. Of 
 co'se some of de women is de bes' payin' members we 
 got. But takin' it all aroun', we ain't got hardly a hun- 
 derd payin' members." 
 
 "But you must remember, Joe, that that's a Baptist 
 church and I am a Methodist. And you Baptists believe 
 we Methodists are all going to hell anyhow, so what's the 
 use?" 
 
 "Naw, suh, Mr. Will, it's dis a-way. Of co'se dey is 
 boun' to be one true religion, an' dey can't be but one, 
 an' of co'se dat's de Babtis'. An' if a man die outside de 
 Babtis' church, it's gwine to go hard wid him. But a 
 man ain't dead till he dies, an' dar ain't no tellin' whut a 
 man will change to befo' dat time." 
 
 "So you think I might become a Baptist yet?" Mr. 
 Robertson asked, laughing. 
 
 "Yassuh, an' den whutever you is give in time past, is 
 counted to you for righteousness." 
 
 "Oh," said Mr. Robertson, "I see. Well, I suppose that 
 line of argument ought to be good for twenty-five dol- 
 lars, eh?" 
 
 "I been a-thinkin' you'd sho' say fifty, Mr. Will." 
 
 "You'll have to revise your thoughts, Joe. I think 
 twenty-five is pretty liberal." 
 
 "Yassuh, thank you kindly, Mr. Will, but you ain't
 
 White and Black 141 
 
 got a pair of ole shoes, is you, dat ar pair whut I seen 
 you ridin' in las' week? Dey got a hole in 'em 'bout whar 
 de little toe is on de lef foot. Malviny needs a pair 
 mighty bad to work 'round de house in. An' I says to 
 myse'f las' week, Mr. Will ain't gwine to wear dem shoes 
 no mo', dey got a hole in 'em." 
 
 "But that hole is hardly bigger than a pin head, Joe. 
 I don't see how you ever came to notice it." 
 
 "De way I looks at it, Mr. Will, is dat de good Lawd 
 puts eyes in a man's head, and den he say, 'I give you 
 eyes, now use 'em.' " 
 
 "All right, tell Malviny to come over to-morrow and 
 get the shoes. Ha ! ha ! ha ; Joe, you are smart. I wish 
 I had your business ability. But they tell me your new 
 'paschur' is teaching you niggers a lot of nonsense about 
 social equality and about your being pressed down by the 
 white folks and all that sort of thing. What about it?" 
 
 "Dey ain't nuthin' to it, Mr. Will. He says we mus' all 
 think it's hon'able to be black, 'cause de Lawd made us 
 black. An' de onliest way for us to make de white folks 
 think it is hon'able, is for us to show 'em. An' de way 
 to show 'em is for us to be good Christians. He says de 
 fust Christians wuz all po' an' lowly, an' ain't nobody 
 ever beat 'em for bein' Christians yit, an' why can't we ?" 
 
 "That's mighty good doctrine, Joe. All of you stick 
 to that. I'll tell you what I'll do. I will stir around 
 among the white folks for you, and I wouldn't be sur- 
 prised if I should raise a hundred dollars or more for 
 your church." 
 
 "Thank you kindly, Mr. Will, but when you does, 
 you'll let me put it down on my list, won't you ?" 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! ha ! I reckon the old Adam will always be 
 pretty strong in you, Joe."
 
 142 White and Black 
 
 "Waal, Mr. Will, you know de Good Book say dat a 
 man who won't take keer of hiss'ef is wuss'n an infidell," 
 answered Joe, triumphantly. 
 
 "Well, then," replied Mr. Robertson, "you will always 
 be ranked as a staunch defender of the faith, but what 
 does your new pastor say about lynchings and things 
 like that?" 
 
 "He says don't do nuthin' to be lynched for, an' den 
 you won't be lynched. He say de way to git ahead of 
 all lynchers is to be good. He say dey may have been 
 a good black man or a good white man lynched some 
 time, somewhar, but he ain't knowed about it puhsonally. 
 But if dey is a bad nigger 'round anywhar, an' de lynch- 
 ers git started, dey mighty apt to lynch dat bad nigger 
 on gen'l principles whilst dey's about it." 
 
 "That new pastor of yours is either mighty good or 
 mighty smart, Joe. I want to have a talk with him some 
 time. But they tell me he's settin' up to Lucindy. How 
 about that?" 
 
 "Dey ain't no tellin', Mr. Will, but you knows how 
 young folks is. De Lawd made 'em so dey'll have a 
 hankerin' for one another." 
 
 "But do you think a man of his education would hon- 
 estly mean to marry Lucindy ?" 
 
 "Lucindy is eddicated herself," answered Joe, proudly, 
 "she kin read an' write an' figger as good as anybody. 
 He ain't gwine to find any gal 'round hyeer dat kin 
 beat Lucindy." 
 
 "Well, there's one thing at any rate, Lucindy has got 
 a daddy who is a mighty good trader, and however edu- 
 cated your new pastor may be, he won't be able to out- 
 trade Joe Williams in matrimony or anything else," said 
 Mr. Robertson.
 
 White and Black 143 
 
 "He'll have to git up mighty soon in de mawnin' to put 
 anything over me, won't he, Mr. Will?" 
 
 "Or slip by in the night," answered Mr. Robertson, 
 laughing. 
 
 "An' he ain't gwine to do dat neither," said Joe, "but 
 good night, Mr. Will, I better be gittin' to bed, so I kin 
 work good to-morrer." 
 
 "Good night, Joe!" 
 
 After the chairman of the collection committee had 
 gone, Mr. Robertson sat for a while thinking. "Joe is 
 a smart nigger. He didn't let his foot slip a single time. 
 I must have a talk with Richard Sanders, this new pas- 
 tor. It may be that at last the niggers have got a good 
 and sensible leader, who will do them some real good. 
 But it's not likely. And I believe there was really a little 
 bit too much simplicity about Joe's talk. Well, we'll see." 
 
 While the foregoing conversation was in progress on 
 the porch, Bob and his mother were sitting in the front 
 room reading the July numbers of the two monthly 
 magazines for which the family subscribed. The windows 
 were open, and through them came from time to time to 
 the hearing of the readers detached bits of the talk. Bob 
 heard the new "paschur" mentioned, and without thinking 
 much beforehand, his mind still half on what he was 
 reading, he said, "I heard the other day that Richard 
 Sanders told the niggers all this shouting and groaning 
 in the church was foolishness, and for them to stop it." 
 
 "Who told you?" asked his mother. 
 
 "Sally," he answered, then he hesitated, "that that 
 is, I think it was Sally." 
 
 "Do you mean John Ramsey's girl'?" 
 
 "Yes, I think it was her," he answered quite evenly, 
 having recovered his composure.
 
 144 White and Black 
 
 "How did you happen to be talking to Sally?" asked 
 his mother. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know, she was passing along the road 
 when I came to the big gate, and she opened it for me," 
 which was indeed the truth, although Bob was sorry 
 that he had broached the topic. 
 
 "But I didn't know she went to his church. I thought 
 she went to the other, where John preaches sometimes." 
 
 "That's what I told her," said Bob, "and she said 
 Richard was telling her about it in town last Saturday." 
 
 "I must tell Papa about this," said Mrs. Robertson. 
 "He really had hopes of Richard, but if he has got to 
 running around with Sally you know what a bad reputa- 
 tion Sally has, Bob." 
 
 "Yes, I have heard some talk about her," said Bob 
 with what calmness he could muster, but he couldn't 
 keep from blushing. 
 
 "And I would rather you shouldn't be seen talking to 
 her," she finished, "there's no telling what sort of stories 
 she might tell." 
 
 "Yes, she may never have seen Richard Sanders at all," 
 said Bob. "But don't it make you kinder tired, Mama, for 
 a nigger to go off to all sorts of colleges and come back 
 here to be the spiritual leader of his people? I'll bet 
 you he thinks inside of his woolly head that he's better 
 than any of us." 
 
 "I can't keep from feeling that way about it," said Mrs. 
 Robertson, "but Papa says, and it seems right, too, that 
 the only hope for the niggers is for them to be educated 
 and to be better taught morally also." 
 
 "Well, it looks to me like we are in trouble either way," 
 said Bob. "If we do educate 'em and make 'em moral 
 and all that, they'll think they are as good as we are. And
 
 White and Black 145 
 
 if we don't educate 'em and make 'em more moral, then 
 they'll always be lying and stealing and doing all the 
 things they do, and give us trouble that way. What do 
 you think, Mama?" 
 
 "Well, that's the race problem, son. And our wisest 
 men haven't solved it yet. Papa says, though, that when 
 in doubt, do what is helpful now and try to get other 
 people to do that, and everything will come out as it 
 should. And that looks like a mighty good platform." 
 
 "Yes, Mama, that's so, but after all, this is a white 
 man's country. And just suppose, Mama, that the nig- 
 gers should get to owning all of the land and have white 
 folks working for 'em. I don't see how we could stand 
 that, do you?" 
 
 "No, son, I don't see how we could stand that." 
 
 "I'd die first," said Bob, "before I'd work for a nig- 
 ger." 
 
 "So would I, son, and in spite of all Papa tries to do 
 for them, I believe he would, too." 
 
 "What's that I would do, too?" asked Mr. Robertson 
 coming in, and looking smilingly at his wife and son. 
 
 "Bob and I were just discussing the race question, dear, 
 and we agreed that we'd die before we would work for 
 a nigger, that is, with a nigger over us for our boss. And 
 I said I believe you would, too." 
 
 "But I don't think there is any danger of our coming 
 to that," answered Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "But you would, wouldn't you, Will?" 
 
 "Yes, honey, I would," he said. "But somehow I just 
 happened to think about the Deanes. We haven't had 
 them out here for quite a while, suppose we bring 'em out 
 to spend the day to-morrow?"
 
 146 White and Black 
 
 "I think that will be fine, don't you, Bob?" answered 
 Mrs. Robertson, looking at her son archly. 
 
 "Well," said Bob, "I thought of riding over to the big 
 pasture in the morning." 
 
 "I don't see any need to go over to the big pasture. 
 Haven't you been going over there pretty often lately?" 
 said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "It has been nearly a week since I've been there,'* 
 answered Bob. 
 
 "Oh, Bob is just trying to make out like," said his 
 mother, smiling teasingly. 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Robertson, "you can drive the car 
 into town and bring 'em out in the morning, Bob." 
 
 "All right, Papa, how early do I have to go?" 
 
 "Oh, not very early, why?" 
 
 "I was thinking I could go over to the pasture firs 
 and then drive in for them when I came back." 
 
 "No, you are not going to any pasture in the morning," 
 thundered Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "But, Will," said Mrs. Robertson, "it seems to me " 
 
 "No," said Mr. Robertson, "we won't argue that point." 
 
 Bob flushed very red, sat a moment in silence, then rose 
 saying, "Good night, everybody, I believe I'll go to bed." 
 
 After he had gone, Mrs. Robertson said, "Will, you 
 hurt his feelings dreadfully. Why didn't you want him 
 to go to the pasture ?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Mr. Robertson, "I don't know 
 just exactly why, but I don't want him to 'go, and he is 
 not going." 
 
 He spoke almost angrily, so Mrs. Robertson said, "All 
 right, honey, I'm going to bed, will you come?" 
 
 "No, I believe I'll sit up and read a while."
 
 White and Black 147 
 
 "Well, good night, then !" she kissed him, and went up- 
 stairs. 
 
 Mr. Robertson sat with a magazine in his hand, but 
 he turned no pages. "There is something wrong about 
 that pasture," he said, "there is certainly something wrong 
 about that pasture." 
 
 When he did go upstairs, Mrs. Robertson was still not 
 asleep as she had been worrying about her husband's 
 seemingly irrational anger. He said, "What! not asleep 
 yet, Mamie?" 
 
 She answered, "No, I have been thinking. Bob told 
 me that Sally told him she had been talking with Richard 
 Sanders in town last Saturday. And you know, Will, if 
 Richard gets to talking with her what the outcome is 
 likely to be." 
 
 "Did Bob tell you that Sally told him?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I'll have to look into that," said Mr. Robertson 
 with anxiety that he could not wholly repress, "but," he 
 added after a moment, "I don't reckon there is anything 
 in it. Ha ha hum, I'm sleepy." 
 
 But he didn't sleep much that night, his mind was 
 working on the problem of Bob and the big pasture, and 
 this injection of Sally into the field of his thought brought 
 him very near to an unwelcome solution of the puzzle.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 ABOUT ten o'clock the next morning Bob returned from 
 Compton, bringing with him in the car Mr. and Mrs. 
 Jasper Deane and Minnie. The three unmarried boys, 
 one older and the other two younger than Minnie, had 
 left early in the morning to hunt up some of their cattle 
 near the head waters of Berry Creek, so none of them 
 came with Bob. 
 
 Jasper Deane, the father, was a man of sixty, and 
 Miriam Deane, the mother, a woman of fifty-five. They 
 were well-to-do, owning both land and cattle, and they 
 belonged to the same church as the Robertsons. Mr. 
 Deane was somewhat querulous and irascible, and had 
 adopted a different policy in regard to his tenants from 
 that of Mr. Robertson, which probably accounted, at least 
 in part, for his greater financial solidity. Jasper Deane 
 was known far and wide as a man of strict integrity, but 
 even farther and wider as a man who would have every 
 cent that was legally his. His favorite saying was, "I 
 want what is mine, no more and no less, and I am going 
 to have it." But in deciding what was his, his enemies 
 said, he was quite generous to himself. And he had 
 a good many enemies, for he had sued many people at 
 law. What he liked to talk about most was how some- 
 body or other tried to cheat him, but how he had brought 
 such nefarious plans to confusion and triumphed over the 
 plotters. He had a passion for running attachments on 
 the property of debtors who he thought were trying to 
 
 148
 
 White and Black 149 
 
 defraud him. And, indeed, quite generally he made col- 
 lections where others failed. 
 
 His wife Miriam was a shrewd, placid woman and 
 a good housekeeper with a leaning toward thrift, which 
 bent she had acquired since marriage, in consequence 
 of the magnetic current of economy that coursed through 
 the system of her husband. 
 
 The Robertsons welcomed them at the front steps. 
 "Well, well," said Mr. Robertson, "I am mighty glad 
 to see all of you, but where are the boys?" 
 
 "They had to go to look after some cattle," said Mr. 
 Deane, "up the creek. I think some of them fellers up 
 there have been sticking the wrong kind of brands on 
 some of my calves, and I'll catch the rascals yet, see if I 
 don't." 
 
 "You'll catch 'em all right, I'm sure," said Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, "but come right in, all of you. I'm sorry the 
 boys couldn't come with you." 
 
 "No, my boys are hard workers, every one of them," 
 said Mr. Deane, casting a glance out of the corner of his 
 eye at Bob, as they entered the house. 
 
 Mrs. Robertson conducted Mrs. Deane and Minnie 
 upstairs to her room to dispose of their hats, powder 
 their noses, engage in a few minutes of feminine chatter 
 about children, husbands, recent deaths, prospective mar- 
 riages, and the present triflingness of nigger servants in 
 comparison with what they used to be. And there was 
 to be doubtless an interchange of amenities in regard to 
 styles, dresses, and the high cost of living interspersed 
 with a disquisition by Mrs. Robertson on the merits of 
 Bob. 
 
 Downstairs in the sitting-room the men talked about 
 the weather, the crops, the Ku Klux Klan, and the
 
 150 White and Black 
 
 triflingness of niggers, interspersed with a disquisition by 
 Mr. Deane on extravagance in general, the high cost of 
 living, and the prevailing indisposition on the part of 
 debtors to pay their debts. 
 
 When the ladies came down, Mrs. Robertson said, 
 "Bob, I wonder if you and Minnie wouldn't like to gather 
 a few peaches from those trees nearest the house. I have 
 a sunbonnet here for Minnie." 
 
 "I think it would be awfully jolly," Minnie answered, 
 seeing through the transparent stratagem at once. 
 
 "Certainly," said Bob without enthusiasm, "come on, 
 Minnie." 
 
 When they reached the orchard, Minnie said, "It looked 
 like you didn't want to come out here with me, Bob." 
 
 "Oh, no," said Bob, "it's all right. I'm glad to come. 
 Let's see, I believe that tree over there has the best 
 peaches on it." 
 
 "Somehow it seems to me that you are sulky about 
 something," insisted Minnie. 
 
 "No, I never was in a better humor in my life. If 
 you will hold the basket a minute, I will get the peaches." 
 
 "If you don't want me out here, I will go back to the 
 house this minute," she exclaimed, "there for the old 
 basket!" She threw the basket on the ground, stamped 
 her foot, then put her hands to her face, and turned to 
 go. 
 
 Bob hastened to catch her hands and pull them from her 
 face. "No, Minnie, I I you know I oughtn't I 
 oughtn't," he stammered. 
 
 "What on earth is the matter with you, Bob Robert- 
 son?" 
 
 "Well well, I can't tell you, but"
 
 White and Black 
 
 "Oh, so you've got a great big dark secret, have you? 
 How funny !" She spoke with sarcasm. 
 
 "Well, yes, I have," answered Bob somewhat defi- 
 antly, but blushingly. 
 
 "Oh, and what is it, you oughtn't to do?" 
 
 "I oughtn't to to think about you, much less " 
 
 "Oh, dear me, you needn't think about me. If that 
 hurts your conscience, you may save yourself the worry !" 
 
 "Now, Minnie, don't get mad at me, but yes, maybe 
 you'd better." 
 
 "Well, I must say you're the funniest thing this morn- 
 ing; I'm going straight to the house," Minnie declared, 
 but she made no move. 
 
 "No, no, please don't," begged Bob. "Stay here till 
 I gather the peaches. I I won't touch you, I oughtn't " 
 
 "What's all this talk about touching me and oughtn't?" 
 asked Minnie. "I don't understand it. I'm sure I don't 
 want you to touch me, now or ever !" There were tears 
 in her voice. 
 
 "Just please wait till I can gather the peaches," said 
 Bob. "It won't do for us to go in without them. And 
 please don't ever say anything about about me to to 
 anybody." 
 
 "All right." answered Minnie, "I will sit down on the 
 grass under this tree, and you go over to that far one, 
 so there won't be the least danger of your touching me. 
 It might be better, too, for you to shut your eyes so you 
 won't even see me. Ha ! ha ! ha !" she laughed, "I might 
 be dangerous even to look at." 
 
 "No, no, it's not that," began Bob, earnestly, "but I 
 _!_ 
 
 "Go on and gather the old peaches," said Minnie, 
 petulantly.
 
 152 White and Black 
 
 When they returned to the house, Bob stopped by the 
 kitchen to give the peaches to Cindy to peel. Minnie 
 went on into the sitting-room. 
 
 "Why, where is Bob?" asked Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "He stopped by to give the peaches to Cindy," an- 
 swered Minnie, "but Miss Mamie, may I go up to your 
 room to wash my face? It was so hot in the orchard 
 and the peach furs on my hands sting so." 
 
 "Certainly, honey, you will find water and towels and 
 everything up there, but I'll run along with you." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no, don't," said Minnie with more vehe- 
 mence than she had intended to betray. 
 
 "All right, honey," said Mrs. Robertson, perceiving 
 that Minnie wished to be alone, and wondering why she 
 and Bob had quarreled. But she thought of it very tol- 
 erantly as some lovers' quarrel that would end soon in 
 greater devotion. It was a fixed idea in her mind that 
 Bob and Minnie were destined for each other and deeply 
 in love. She was thinking, "The poor dear young fool- 
 ish things ! They must have their tiffs." 
 
 Minnie threw herself face down on the bed in Mrs. 
 Robertson's room, and burst into tears, waving her heels 
 violently and exclaiming over and over again, "I hate 
 him! I hate him! He's in love with some other girl, 
 and he don't know how to tell me about it. I hate him ! 
 I hate him! But maybe he has done something wrong, 
 very wrong, and it's his conscience. No, no, that couldn't 
 be, he is such a good boy! All the boys laugh at him 
 for being such a good boy. He's in love with another 
 girl. Oh, how I hate him, hate him, hate him!" 
 
 After some minutes Mrs. Deane came into the room 
 quietly, and gently inquired, "What's the matter, Minnie 
 darling?"
 
 White and Black 153 
 
 Minnie pretended to awake from a deep sleep. 
 
 "Why, honey, asleep this time of the morning ! What 
 can be the matter ? Aren't you well ?" But she saw the 
 traces of tears on her daughter's face, and understood 
 that the surmise Mrs. Robertson had confided to her was 
 correct 
 
 "I suppose it must have been the heat in the orchard," 
 said Minnie, but her lips quivered. 
 
 "No, no, honey, don't cry. It will all come right." 
 
 "But, Mama, Mama, he loves somebody else, and what 
 am I going to do?" 
 
 "No, no, honey, he couldn't love anybody else. Who 
 could he love?" 
 
 "Well, then, he must have done something awful." 
 
 "Why do you think that?" 
 
 "Well, he said he ought not to touch me, ought not 
 even to think about me, and and it looked like he didn't 
 know what to say." 
 
 "Did he say that?" asked Mrs. Deane, stirred out of 
 her usual placidity. "Did he say that?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, Mama, that's what he said." 
 
 "And Mamie holds him up as a pattern to the uni- 
 verse," said Mrs. Deane, speaking to herself rather than 
 to her daughter. Then, "I must tell you, honey, I must 
 tell you soon what young men here usually mean when 
 they say that, but not now, not now. Oh, and he, too ! 
 I had hoped, but never mind, honey, we can forget about 
 him." 
 
 "No, no, no, Mama, I don't want to forget about 
 him," exclaimed Minnie with the petulance of an only 
 daughter. "I know he hasn't done anything. You 
 mustn't think that about him." 
 
 "Think what, honey?"
 
 154 White and Black 
 
 "What you are thinking." 
 
 "What am I thinking?" 
 
 "Oh, Mama, I know, I know what you are thinking. 
 I know lots of things, lots of things. You see, Mama, 
 I go to school, and I have heard women talk, white 
 women and black. And I know, I know. How could 
 any woman here not know? But it is not true of Bob, 
 and and if it were " 
 
 "Yes, honey, if it were?" 
 
 "Oh, I I don't know, Mama, but I don't want to 
 give him up. Who is there that's better? And he is so 
 smart and good looking and and nice !" 
 
 "Yes, honey, well, don't bother now. Dry your eyes. 
 You wouldn't want them to know you had been crying. 
 Dry your eyes, wash your face, and put some powder on 
 it. You will need to be brave, honey. Oh, you will 
 need to be brave!" And Mrs. Deane began to cry her- 
 self. 
 
 "What's the matter, Mama?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing much, honey. It's an old, old matter, 
 and I'm an old, old woman. But come, we will wash 
 our faces together, and then we'll be friends forever," 
 and she smiled through her tears. 
 
 Mother and daughter came down the stairs smiling as 
 if this were a pleasant world inhabited by only happy 
 women and good men. Mr. Deane was saying, "If the 
 Ku Klux would just take up the matter of making folks 
 pay their debts, I would be in favor of their work. 
 Wouldn't it be fine, Will, if they'd catch some of these 
 dead-beats around here and treat 'em to a coat of tar 
 and feathers? Hey, wouldn't that be fine?" 
 
 "But you see, Mr. Deane, that's one trouble with 'em," 
 answered Mr. Robertson, "every man wants 'em to pun-
 
 White and Black 
 
 ish the things he don't like. I have no doubt that some 
 people here would be glad for 'em to tar and feather all 
 the creditors of the community." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Deane, somewhat incensed, "only 
 the lawless element, the dead-beats and the ne'er-do- 
 wells would want that, and they ought to be put down." 
 
 "But have you ever thought of what element in this 
 neck of the woods would mainly compose the Ku Klux 
 Klan?" 
 
 "Well, I read that they are going in for Americanism 
 pure and simple, for white supremacy, for the enforce- 
 ment of laws, and for race purity. It would seem to 
 me to be a pretty good element that would go in for 
 them things." 
 
 "And their method of procedure is by midnight masked 
 mobs inflicting cruel and unusual punishments without 
 due process of law and you are a stickler for the Con- 
 stitution, Mr. Deane." > 
 
 ' "Well, of course, I don't approve of 'em," said Mr. 
 Deane, "but I was just saying that if we have to have 
 'em, they might as well tend to the dead-beats along with 
 the other riff-raff while they are about it. Hey, what 
 do you think?" 
 
 But dinner was announced. At the table Mrs. Robert- 
 son was careful to seat Bob and Minnie on the same side, 
 so placing Mr. Deane and Minnie on either side of Mr. 
 Robertson at the head of the table, and Mrs. Deane and 
 Bob on either side of herself at the foot. Her idea was 
 that during the meal Mr. Robertson and Mr. Deane would 
 talk together mainly, Bob and Minnie, and she and Mrs. 
 Deane. But it turned out differently, for the arrange- 
 ment put Bob vis-a-vis with Mrs. Deane. 
 
 After Mr. Robertson had said grace, emphasized by
 
 156 White and Black 
 
 a hearty "Amen !" from Mr. Deane, Mrs. Deane began 
 an exploratory operation on Bob, while Minnie feigned 
 an interest in the talk of her father and Mr. Robertson 
 on the length of cotton staple and various methods of 
 combating boll-weevils. 
 
 "My! Bob, how smart they all say you are!" began 
 Mrs. Deane, "and I have never seen your medal." 
 
 "Show it to her, Bob," said his mother, bridling with 
 pleasure. 
 
 "Oh, Mama!" protested Bob. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, I would like to see it," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Deane. 
 
 Bob took the medal out of his pocket and handed it 
 across the table. 
 
 "My, how beautiful! Why don't you wear it on a 
 chain or something, so that everybody can see it?" 
 
 "I don't know, 'm," said Bob, "it sorter makes a 
 feller feel foolish to go around with a shining medal 
 hung on him." 
 
 "Jasper," she said to her husband, "look at this. It 
 is Bob's scholarship medal. Ain't it fine?" 
 
 Mr. Deane took it in his hand. "Yes," he answered, 
 "it's gold. It must have cost at least ten dollars. I 
 wonder how the school board could legally make an ap- 
 propriation for that." 
 
 "It was bought and paid for by the principal out of 
 his own pocket," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Oh, well, it may be plated then and probably didn't 
 cost more than five." 
 
 Bob blushed and Mrs. Robertson was indignant, but 
 Mrs. Deane said, "It was so smart of him, though, to 
 get it!" 
 
 "Well, yes, I reckon so, but a smart boy ought to be
 
 White and Black 157 
 
 able to make five dollars on buying and selling one 
 yearling," answered Mr. Deane, giving the medal back to 
 his wife, and resuming his talk with Mr. Robertson. 
 
 She restored it to Bob, saying, "Don't mind him, Bob, 
 he just thinks that the conceit should be taken out of 
 all young people, and he is teasing you." 
 
 "Yessum, I know Mr. Deane, I don't mind him," said 
 Bob, but hate welled up in his heart 
 
 "And does a boy who studies so much have time to 
 interest himself in the farming?" she asked. 
 
 "Well, he has some cattle of his own in the big pas- 
 ture," answered Mrs. Robertson, "and he has always 
 looked after them carefully, especially of late." 
 
 "And the big pasture is along the creek on the other 
 side of the railroad track, ain't it?" 
 
 "Yessum," answered Bob, wondering why she asked, 
 and with alarm in his eyes. 
 
 "We went over there dew-berry hunting one time," 
 she said, "and who was it working in the field over on 
 that side ? I remember we got thirsty and some of them 
 brought us a bucket of water. I believe it was one 
 of John Ramsey's girls, but I am not sure." 
 
 "Most likely it was," said Mrs. Robertson, "his field 
 is over there." 
 
 "He is pretty trifling, ain't he?" 
 
 "He is the triflingest one of our tenants," answered 
 Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "But sometimes a trifling nigger can make his children 
 work well, though I seem to recollect that his children 
 are all girls, so I suppose they don't do much." 
 
 "He has some boys," said Bob, anxious to divert the 
 conversation, if only a little way. 
 
 "But the boys are too small to do much," said Mrs.
 
 158 White and Black 
 
 Robertson, "and I am afraid the girls are not very good 
 workers, either. I have been trying to get Will to turn 
 John off with his whole crew, but he sorter hates to 
 do it." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Robertson is mighty soft-hearted," said 
 Mrs. Deane, "but my motto is that the bad man always 
 finds work for idle hands to do and that it is better to 
 get rid of them before evil communications corrupt good 
 manners." 
 
 "Oh, I don't suppose they do any real harm to any- 
 body else on the place," said Mrs. Robertson. "The 
 only thing is that John is always coming out behind, so 
 we lose money on him nearly every year." 
 
 "Well, there ain't any telling," answered Mrs. Deane, 
 and she shot a glance at Bob that he couldn't meet. He 
 blushed, dropped his eyes to his plate, and pretended to 
 be very busy eating. 
 
 But Mrs. Deane went on, "Do you tend to your cat- 
 tle all by yourself, Bob? My boys say it is a hard job 
 for one man, so they always go together." 
 
 "Oh, it's not so much to rope a steer and throw him," 
 said Bob. "I don't need any help." 
 
 "Yes, Bob is right skilful that way," said Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson with pride. 
 
 "But it seems to me you would get lonesome over there 
 in the pasture by yourself," said Mrs. Deane. 
 
 "No'm, I don't ever think about that," answered Bob. 
 
 "If you should, I suppose you could get some of 
 John's folks to help you, they are so convenient there." 
 
 Bob was thoroughly frightened. It seemed to him that 
 the questions were very persistent and pointed, and Mrs. 
 Robertson began to think, "I wonder what she is driv- 
 ing at?"
 
 White and Black 159 
 
 Bob merely repeated, "No'm, I don't need any help." 
 
 "Oh, I was just thinking that idle niggers wander 
 around so, that probably some of them would be over 
 in the pasture most of the time," said Mrs. Deane, and 
 that bolt penetrated even Mrs. Robertson's complacence. 
 
 "John's folks wander towards town, I think, not 
 towards the pasture," she said. 
 
 "Yessum, you can see some of them going to town 
 nearly every day," said Bob eagerly, too eagerly to es- 
 cape the wisdom of eyes that had had fifty-five years of 
 experience. 
 
 "That's it, that's where the trouble lies, that's what 
 is hurting his conscience," reflected Mrs. Deane to her- 
 self, but aloud she said, "Mr. Will, don't you think it is 
 a perfect shame the prices the merchants are charging 
 these days?" But she quickly returned her glance to 
 Bob, to watch his face for an expected expression of 
 relief, and her expectation was gratified. 
 
 "Yes, I don't see that the high cost of living has come 
 down very much except in the price of what we farmers 
 produce," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 This was one of Mr. Deane's favorite topics, so he 
 interposed, "Yes, look at shoes. During the War the 
 merchants said the price of hides was so high and that 
 was the reason they had to charge so much for shoes. 
 Now you can't get anything at all for hides, and they 
 say the amount of leather that goes into a pair of shoes 
 don't make much difference anyway, that it's labor and 
 overhead expense and anything and everything. I wish 
 the Ku Klux would get some of these infernal profiteers, 
 that's what I wish," and he brought his fist down on the 
 table with a bang. 
 
 The talk became general among the older people, and
 
 160 White and Black 
 
 remained so. Minnie cast a furtive glance or two at 
 Bob, but found no response. Once, as if by accident, 
 she touched his hand, but he quickly drew it away. It 
 seemed to him that the dinner would never come to an 
 end, and he wished the earth would open up and swallow 
 Mrs. Deane then and there, or, at least, before she 
 could get a chance to talk privately to Minnie or his 
 mother. The very thought of her talking to his mother 
 rilled him with horror, which was mixed with wonder 
 as to how she had happened to hit on the pasture and 
 John Ramsey's family as subjects to examine him about. 
 And what did she know, and how did she find it out? 
 It all seemed very mysterious to him. He did not know 
 that his confidences to Minnie had been related to her 
 mother, and that those confidences coupled with the 
 general reputation of John Ramsey's girls and the geog- 
 raphy of the farm had been enough very naturally 
 and simply to point out the road for Mrs. Deane's sus- 
 picion. 
 
 As they rose from the table, Mr. Deane was saying, 
 "No, Will, your theory is wrong. A nigger ought al- 
 ways be made to pay every cent he owes you, even if 
 you have to take his team and tools and then sell 'era 
 back to him. It's a lesson in morals to 'em. If they all 
 knew they always had to pay all they owed, then they 
 wouldn't be so reckless about running into debt. You 
 forgive 'em something at the end of one year, and then 
 they want you to forgive 'em more at the end of the 
 next. I make mine pay me if it takes the last thing 
 they've got. They don't beat me out of much." 
 
 "No, nobody can beat you out of much, Mr. Deane," 
 answered Mr. Robertson, who was tired of the discus- 
 sion.
 
 White and Black 161 
 
 "That they can't, and I am proud of it," said Mr. 
 Deane. 
 
 "But some day before long some nice looking young 
 feller will be beating you out of Minnie," said Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson, smiling, as they took their seats in the sitting- 
 room. 
 
 "Well, it won't be any young feller that's not a good 
 worker. I can tell you that," said Mr. Deane. 
 
 "To hear him talk, you'd think Papa worked all of 
 the time," said Minnie. 
 
 "No, but when I was young, I worked from daylight 
 to dark every day, and many a day long after dark. And 
 I believe in young men working and saving," he replied 
 with emphasis, "I worked and saved." 
 
 "And what's even more important still," said Mrs. 
 Deane, "is that a young man must be upright and good 
 and pure." 
 
 "Well, working and saving will come mighty near to 
 making him all of that," answered her husband. 
 
 The Deanes didn't stay very long after dinner. About 
 three o'clock Mrs. Deane said they had to go, so Bob 
 drove back with them in the car to Compton. 
 
 After they had left, Mr. Robertson said, "Mamie, some- 
 how or other it don't seem to me that Mrs. Deane was 
 pleased with her visit." 
 
 "No, and she seemed to have some sort of spite against 
 Bob. It looked as if she thought he wasn't good enough 
 for Minnie. I never heard such an examination as she 
 fired at him at the dinner table." 
 
 "What about?" 
 
 "Oh, about his work and his cattle and the pasture and 
 who helped him. And she kept on talking about John 
 Ramsey and his girls, as if Bob had any interest in them."
 
 162 White and Black 
 
 "Oh, she did, did she?" said Mr. Robertson, thought- 
 fully. And then hastening to hide his concern, he added, 
 "And Mr. Deane was throwing out hints about young 
 men working, too as if Bob were some idl'e loafer!" 
 
 "I don't like it, my boy is good enough for anybody in 
 the world! If her boys were one thousandth part as 
 good !" exclaimed Mrs. Robertson, bursting into tears. 
 
 Mr. Robertson soothed her with reassuring words and 
 affectionate caresses, but he kept asking himself, "What 
 have they got against Bob?" And the suspicion that had 
 so greatly troubled him the night before flared up again. 
 
 Bob on his way to Compton with the Deanes was taci- 
 turn, hardly saying a word during the short drive. On 
 his way back his reflections took a definite shape, "I wish 
 I had never got mixed up in this thing. It has given me 
 a lot of trouble already and it is likely to give me still 
 more. And it may give Mama a lot of trouble, and Papa 
 too. And what am I going to do about Minnie? And 
 that old cat of a Mrs. Deane, she knows something. Well, 
 I've got to stay away from that pasture. That's all there 
 is to that. No, I've got to stay away! Oh, I wish I 
 hadn't been such a fool ! At Sunday school I have to be 
 such a hypocrite! Oh, and next Sunday is Sacrament 
 day at the church. I wonder how I am going to get out 
 of taking the Sacrament. Oh, I don't know what to do !" 
 
 But something opposed began to whisper to him, and 
 the whisper aroused in him again a curious sense of joy, 
 a feeling as it were of exultation in his masculinity.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 
 
 THURSDAY morning at breakfast Mr. Robertson said, 
 "Bob, I am going to the lower place this morning. They 
 started the hay-making down there Monday, and I want 
 to see how they are getting on. Do you want to go with 
 me or over to the big pasture?" 
 
 "I don't think there is any special need of going to 
 the pasture," said Bob, steadily, "and I would like to go 
 with you." 
 
 Mr. Robertson was pleased and said cheerily, "All 
 right, tell Cyrus to saddle up the horses. And, Mamie, 
 let Cyrus go to town for the mail. I am expecting an 
 important letter from Green & Porter." 
 
 "Are you still thinking about accepting the position they 
 offer you, Will?" asked Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "Oh, not very definitely. I merely wrote them for 
 further particulars." 
 
 "Why wouldn't it be a good idea, Papa, to put up a 
 rural free delivery box by the big gate? It would save 
 a lot of going to town for the mail," said Bob. 
 
 "I don't like to have to wait for the carrier," answered 
 his father, "and then he might lose some of the letters. 
 I have to go to town nearly every day, anyhow. But 
 really I suppose it would be more sensible to have a box 
 out there. John Ramsey has one," and he smiled quiz- 
 zically. 
 
 "Well, I didn't mean for you to copy after John Ram- 
 sey," said Bob, blushing, "but I was just thinking " 
 
 "All the niggers and poor white trash in the country 
 
 163
 
 164 White and Black 
 
 have boxes, and indeed nearly everybody else, and you 
 are right, son, but I suppose the real reason is that I 
 have just grown up going to the post-office and keep on 
 doing it." 
 
 Sim Senter's house was near the southeast corner of 
 the lower place, Madison Mulberry's was near the south- 
 west corner and not far from the creek bottom. Through 
 the middle of the place and about equally distant from 
 each of the two houses ran a farm road to the hay-field 
 at the north end of the place. At one spot by the side of 
 this road was a dense thicket of plum trees, and just 
 across the road from that was a patch of fifteen or twenty 
 acres of second-growth pine timber with a thick under- 
 growth of brambles, wild grape vines and black jack 
 saplings, which had been allowed to grow undisturbed 
 because the ground there was so cut up with large gullies 
 as to be untillable. 
 
 Mr. Robertson and Bob entered upon the place at the 
 gate near Madison Mulberry's house, went through 
 Madison's crop, and turned into the road at a point near 
 the thicket. As they were passing between the thicket 
 and the patch of timber, Saladin shied so suddenly as 
 to come near unseating Bob, "My!" he said, "this is 
 a dense place in here. I wonder what Saladin thinks 
 he saw." 
 
 "Probably a 'possum or a rabbit," answered Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, "or some sort of varmint moving about. I think 
 I'll have this brush cleared away next winter. I don't 
 know as it does any harm, but it don't look good." 
 
 "Well, anyhow, it makes a sort of cool spot now," said 
 Bob.
 
 White and Black 165 
 
 Soon they came to the hay field where they found the 
 gang just beginning the day's work. 
 
 "Well, Sim, you seem to have gotten most of the men 
 on the place," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Yaas," answered Sim Senter, "my two boys, Sam 
 Stallins' four, Jim Birdsall, Hez Monroe, and Tom Tal- 
 ley, nine in all. That's as many as I need to run two 
 mowers and the press and do the rakin'. Of course I 
 didn't say nuthin' to Madison Mulberry or his boy Lys 
 about comin'." 
 
 "No, that would hardly have done," said Mr. Robert- 
 son. 
 
 "We're gittin' a sorter late start, but the dew was so 
 heavy this mawnin'." 
 
 "Well, it is better to wait and not cut the grass while 
 it's wet." 
 
 "Yaas, that's what I thought, but, Mr. Will, I want you 
 to run that Lys off the place. He ain't done a thing 
 except lay around ever since he's been back. And he's 
 been runnin' me down to the niggers and stirrin' 'em 
 up about the low wages paid on the farm, and jes' playin' 
 the big Ike gen'r'lly." 
 
 "Has he been giving you any special trouble?" 
 
 "Well, not to say exactly, but Susie has been bringin' 
 our dinner to me and the boys in the buggy, to save time, 
 an* yestiddy she says she seen Lys in the brush down 
 there by the plum thicket, an' he wuz a-watchin' her. 
 Whut wuz he doing there? I don't think he wuz up to 
 any good. Harry wanted to go right over and jump 
 on him but I said, no, we'd better not have any rucus." 
 
 "That's right," answered Mr. Robertson, "I'll tell Madi- 
 son to make him light out."
 
 1 66 White and Black 
 
 "Maybe you'd better see him yourself, Mr. Will." 
 
 "All right, I will if I can find him." 
 
 In the meantime Bob had ridden to where the Senter 
 boys were, Harry on a mowing machine and Jim on a 
 hay rake. "Hello, Jim! Hello, Harry !" he said. 
 
 "Hello, Bob," they answered. 
 
 "You've got plumb well, haven't you, Jim?" 
 
 "Jest about," Jim answered. 
 
 "How you comin', Harry?" 
 
 "Fine and dandy." 
 
 "Well, what's up?" 
 
 "Nuthin' much," answered Harry, "cept I'm layin' 
 off to beat hell out of. that Lys Mulberry as soon as I kin 
 git time. Me an' Jim's goin' to ketch him some day and 
 strop him till he can't set down. Don't you want to git 
 in on it?" 
 
 Bob recognized this as a mark of great friendship on 
 Harry's part, so he asked, "When do you expect to get 
 to it?" 
 
 "If you wuz to happen over hyeer 'bout next Sunday 
 evenin' you wouldn't be fur wrong," answered Harry. 
 
 "All right, I'll be here, if I can get off," answered Bob, 
 "and I reckon I can." 
 
 "Good boy!" said Harry, "come right after dinner. 
 But I've got to cut this grass. Gee! come up there!" 
 And the rattle of the mowing-machine began to shrill 
 above the sound of bird and insect, and drowned the 
 murmur of human voices in the field. Bob sat on Saladin 
 and watched the grass fall in an even swath as the ma- 
 chine moved along. He was in now for helping to beat 
 Ulysses Mulberry and consequently for very probable 
 trouble with the folks at home, but he felt that Ulysses 
 certainly deserved a beating, and he was elated over
 
 White and Black 167 
 
 Harry's attitude of respect. He felt that he had proved 
 himself, that he was now accounted worthy of a share 
 in an enterprise that required both strength and valor, 
 and his heart swelled with pride. 
 
 His reflections were interrupted by Jim's saying, "We'll 
 give him sich a beatin' that he won't want to stay 'round 
 hyeer no mo'." 
 
 "You bet, we'll tan his hide good and proper," an- 
 swered Bob. 
 
 With a grin of anticipatory delight Jim whipped up 
 the mule hitched to the hay-rake and began his labor of 
 the day. 
 
 Mr. Robertson came riding down the field and joined 
 Bob. "We've got to go over to Madison Mulberry's," 
 he said. 
 
 "What for, Papa?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Well, I'm afraid Lys will cause some trouble, and I'm 
 going to make Madison run him off the place." 
 
 "Oh, we're " Bob began without thinking, then he 
 recovered himself and said, "He ought to have a good 
 beating before he is run off." 
 
 "No," said Mr. Robertson, _"the only thing necessary- 
 is to get rid of him. But what were you going to say?" 
 
 "Nothing much, I wasn't thinking, oh, we are not 
 going to spend the day over here, then?" 
 
 "No, I'd like to get back home before dinner and 
 see the mail. I may want to answer a letter this evening." 
 
 "How would it do for me to stay?" asked Bob. "I 
 could eat dinner with the Senters." 
 
 "So you and Harry have arrived at an understanding," 
 said Mr. Robertson, laughing, "the former foes have 
 buried the hatchet and maybe concluded an offensive and 
 defensive alliance."
 
 168 White and Black 
 
 "Something like that, I reckon," said Bob shamefacedly. 
 
 "That'll be all right," said Mr. Robertson, "and you'd 
 better run the mowing machine for him a while this eve- 
 ning. I want you to see what it's like." 
 
 "All right," answered Bob, "I'll be glad to." 
 
 "Well, come on now, and we'll see Madison, and then 
 you can come back." 
 
 They found Madison working in his field. "Good 
 morning, Madison," said Mr. Robertson, "where is 
 Ulysses." 
 
 "He said he wuz goin' to town," answered Madison, 
 shortly. 
 
 "I didn't ask you where he said he was going. I want 
 to know where he is." 
 
 "I reckon he's in town, Mr. Will." 
 
 "Don't you know where he is ?" 
 
 "Naw, suh, I ain't seed him sence soon dis mawnin'." 
 
 "I told you to make him help you work or to drive 
 him off the place." 
 
 "He's been a-he'pin' me." 
 
 "You're a liar, he hasn't." 
 
 "Whut's dat Sim Senter been a-tellin' you, Mr. Will?" 
 
 "Never mind what he's been telling me. I want to 
 see Lys. He has got to get off this place." 
 
 "He say he's gwine Sad'day." 
 
 "Where's he going to?" 
 
 "He's gwine back to de City. He say he can't fool 
 'long wid no farmin'. Dey ain't enough money in it." 
 
 "Well, I'll hold you responsible for him and his con- 
 duct till Saturday then. And if he doesn't leave here 
 bright and early Saturday morning, back into jail you go." 
 
 "He say he's gwine to leave Sad'day," Madison repeated 
 sullenly.
 
 White and Black 169 
 
 "Well, see that he does," answered Mr. Robertson, but 
 as he and Bob rode away, he felt that he had again 
 clashed with a will stronger than his own. And Bob, too, 
 was conscious of an uneasy feeling of dissatisfaction. 
 They rode together a hundred yards or so. Then Mr. 
 Robertson turned his horse toward home, and Bob headed 
 for the hayfield. 
 
 "So long, Bob, get home before dark." 
 
 "All right, Papa." And each went his way. 
 
 At noon Susie Senter brought dinner to the field. She 
 came in a decrepit buggy drawn by a patient old gray 
 mule. The dinner, over which a white cloth had been 
 spread, was on a large waiter, which she carried on her 
 lap, to lessen the jolting. She had to drive holding her 
 arms up and elbows akimbo. Bob laughed at her comical 
 appearance, as she drove up under the shade of the oak 
 tree where Sim and his boys and Bob were waiting The 
 Negro hands in a group were eating their lunches a little 
 further down the field. "Hello, Susie," Bob said, "you 
 look like you're gettin' ready to fly." 
 
 "Lawd, Bob," she answered, "I didn't know you wuz 
 out hyeer. I'm a perfect sight with this old dress on. It 
 ain't nuthin' but rags, and it's- a mile too short." 
 
 "I wasn't thinking about that," said Bob, "I was lookin' 
 at your elbows." 
 
 "Well, how's anybody goin' to drive with they lap 
 full of dinner if they don't hold up they elbows? And 
 this ole mule is so slow and I can't whup him without 
 spillin' the dinner, so I have to come at a creep." 
 
 "Well, Susie, have you et?" asked Sim, lifting a keg 
 of fresh water out of the back of the buggy. 
 
 "Yes, I had a snack with Ma and the chillun," said 
 Susie. She reached into the pocket of her dress, pulled
 
 '17 White and Black 
 
 out a snuff-box and a brush made by chewing the end of 
 a black-gum twig, dipped the brush into the snuff, and 
 stuck it into her mouth with an air of complacency. 
 
 Sim looked at her and then at Bob, and said, "She's 
 mighty young, I think, to begin dippin', but then she's 
 past fifteen, and she's gittin' to think she's mighty nigh 
 grown." 
 
 "Yes," said Bob, embarrassed, "I expect she'll be getting 
 beaux in her head pretty soon." 
 
 "She's got 'em there now," said Jim. 
 
 "You bet she has," chuckled Harry. 
 
 "Oh, shet up," answered Susie with a toss of her 
 head. 
 
 "Did you see anybody when you wuz comin' 'long the 
 road?" asked Sim. 
 
 "Nary a soul," said Susie. "I wuz keepin' a look-out, 
 but I didn't see nobody." 
 
 "Who did you expect to see?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Well, them Mulberry niggers have been hangin' 
 around," answered Sim. 
 
 "Oh, Papa told Madison that he had to run Lys off 
 the place," said Bob. "And Madison said Lys was goin* 
 to leave Saturday morning." 
 
 Harry winked at Bob, "Well, he'd better get away. 
 That's all I got to say." 
 
 "Hunh! You're rhymin' this mawnin'," said Susie 
 with a titter. 
 
 "Well, rhymin' ain't all I'm goin' to be doin' mighty 
 soon," said Harry. 
 
 "Now look'ee hyeer, Harry," said Sim, "keep yo' hands 
 off of that nigger till after Sad'day anyway." 
 
 "All right, I'll give him till Sad'day," said Harry, "but
 
 White and Black 
 
 after that he'd better look out for a surprise party, eh, 
 Bob?" 
 
 "Now, don't you go to draggin' Bob into nuthin'," said 
 Sim. 
 
 "Oh, he ain't draggin' me," said Bob. "Don't worry 
 about me." 
 
 "Well, I wouldn't never git over it," said Sim, "if he 
 wuz to git you into trouble." 
 
 "Mrs. Senter is sho' a prime hand at frying chicken," 
 said Bob. 
 
 "Yaas, this does taste pretty good, don't it?" answered 
 Sim. 
 
 "You bet it does, and this corn-bread is hard to beat." 
 
 "Gim'me flour bread for mine," said Jim, "cawn-bread 
 scratches my th'oat." 
 
 "Waal, if we've got enough," said Sim, when the others 
 had stopped eating, "Susie kin take the things back, and 
 then we'll rest up a little while, and afterward we'll intro- 
 duce Bob to Mister Mowin' Machine." 
 
 "Oh, is Bob goin' to mow some ?" asked Susie. "Lem'- 
 me stay and see him start off, Papa." 
 
 "All right, if Bob don't keer," answered Sim. 
 
 "I don't care," said Bob, "but I reckon you'll get the 
 laugh back on me, Susie, when" I first start off." 
 
 "Shucks!" said Harry. "Anybody kin run a mowin'- 
 machine." 
 
 "But I bet Bob gits tangled up at fust," said Jim. 
 
 "Anyway I'd like to see him make a start-off," said 
 Susie. 
 
 After half an hour of rest, Sim, followed by the three 
 boys, and leaving Susie in the buggy, -took the keg of 
 water and carried it to where the Negroes were sprawl-
 
 172 White and Black 
 
 ing in the shade of a hackberry. "Come on," he said 
 to them, "git a drink of fresh water, and less hit the 
 grit" 
 
 They gathered around, laughing and joking each other. 
 Bill, a man of fifty and Uncle Sam's oldest son, put the 
 keg of water to his lips and drank thirstily. "Lawd," 
 said Jim Birdsall, "dat nigger's legs is holler." 
 
 "Dey sho' is," said Tom Talley, "if you wuz to stick 
 a pin in his big toe, a stream of water would come spout- 
 in' out." 
 
 "Dey sho' would, haw, haw, haw !" guffawed Hez Mon- 
 roe, and the others joined in the laughter delightedly, as at 
 a display of great wit. 
 
 "Nemmine," said Bill, setting the keg down at last, 
 "holler legs is better'n a holler head any time." 
 
 "But de wust of all is a holler belly," said Hez. 
 
 "Now, nigger, you sho' 'is a-talkin' !" exclaimed Tom 
 Talley, at which there was general and vociferous laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 "When mine gits holler, it sho' do holler out loud 
 to me," said Bill. 
 
 "Whut do it say, Bill?" asked Jim Birdsall. 
 
 **It say, nigger, whar is dat hog-meat, whar is dem 
 collards? It say nunck-unh, nigger, dis ain't gwine to 
 do. You got to git up an' hustle !" 
 
 "Well," said Sim, "that's what we'll do now, Bill, you 
 better git up on the press this evenin', and Jim and Hez 
 kin tie, an' Jodie kin run the bull-rake, and little Sammy 
 kin git off the mowin' machine for an hour or so an' 
 stack up them bales. Bob wants to try his hand at 
 mowin'." 
 
 "Watch out, grass, if Mr. Bob's gwine to tackle you !" 
 exclaimed Jim Birdsall.
 
 White and Black 173 
 
 "An' hyeer's one nigger's glad he is gwine to be on 
 top of de press," said Bill. "When Mr. Bob comes along 
 slatter-ratter-klatter, I wants my toes out of de way." 
 
 "Oh, shut up," said Bob, "I bet I'll cut the grass all 
 right." 
 
 "Well, boys, git to it," said Sim, and they all went to 
 their places. 
 
 Bob passed the test very successfully. Susie returned 
 to the house with the dishes. The hum and clatter of 
 the hay-making filled the summer afternoon, the jest and 
 laughter of the workers around the press now and again 
 rising for a moment above the rattle of the machines, 
 soon to be submerged again under their metallic clatter. 
 
 Once little Sammy, Uncle Sam's youngest, remarked 
 pensively, "Dem mowin' machines sho' do put me in mind 
 of dem German machine-guns, ratty-rat-rat, and whar 
 is you, nigger, if you come out of dat hole we'll find you." 
 
 "Naw," said Jodie, his brother, "dem machine-guns 
 didn't say dat, dey wuz a sayin' put-put-put, put yo' foot 
 in yo' han' an' git out of dis country." 
 
 "Well, you put-put-put, put the hay in that press and 
 keep her a-goin'," said Sim. 
 
 "Ki-yi," said Jim Birdsall, who hadn't been to the War, 
 "dar you is ! Hit de ball an keep 'er a-rollin'. We ain't 
 got no time to talk about Germans." And he broke into 
 a sort of chant, "We ain't got no time, we ain't got no 
 time. Oh, hit de ball, an' keep 'er a-rollin', keep 'er a- 
 rollin'." 
 
 About four o'clock Bob drove his mowing machine up 
 to the press, and said, "Well, I expect I'd better be goin' 
 now." 
 
 "All right," said Sim, "crawl up there, little Sammy, 
 and make 'er hum."
 
 174 White and Black 
 
 Bob mounted Saladin and started on his way home, 
 thinking, "I don't know when I have had a better time. 
 Farming is not so bad after all. But I wonder where 
 Lys Mulberry is. Wonder if we're goin' to get to lick 
 him." 
 
 But he saw nothing of either Lys or Madison as he 
 passed near their house to reach the gate. He rode on 
 along the edge of the bottom until he came to the gate in 
 the fence of the home place. This gate was near Joe 
 Williams's house, and not far away Ella and Mariah, 
 two of Joe's daughters, were hoeing in a sweet potato 
 patch. Ella dropped her hoe and ran to open the gate 
 for him. Mariah stopped work, leaned on her hoe handle, 
 and watched Ella's progress, "Hunh!" she said to her- 
 self, "Ella'd break her neck any time for Mr. Bob. How 
 come he couldn't open dat gate for hisse'f? He ain't 
 paralyzed." 
 
 "Hello, Ella," said Bob, "you needn't have bothered. I 
 could open the gate all right." 
 
 "Oh, I likes to open a gate for you, Mr. Bob," she 
 answered. 
 
 She looked at him with such admiration that Bob was 
 embarrassed. "Well," he replied, "I'm sorry I haven't 
 got any change in my pocket." 
 
 "Oh, you know good and well, Mr. Bob, I don't want 
 nuthin' for openin' a gate. But if you got dat medal wid 
 you, I'd sho' like to see dat agin." 
 
 "All right," said Bob, pulling it out of his pocket, "here 
 it is." 
 
 "Dat sho' is a pretty medal," exclaimed Ella. "An' 
 jes' think, if dey had ha' had one at de cullud school dis 
 year I'd 've got it. And if dey have one next year, I 
 bet I'll git it."
 
 White and Black 175 
 
 "Is that so?" replied Bob. "Well, I'll tell you what 
 I'll do, I'll try to get Papa to offer a medal for the best 
 scholar in the colored school next year." 
 
 "He'll do it," said Ella, "if you speak to him about 
 it. I'm sho' he'll do it." 
 
 "I expect he will," said Bob. "I think I heard him say 
 something about offering some kind of prize, but it 
 seems to me it was a pig or a calf." 
 
 "Tell him to be sho' an' make it a medal," said Ella. 
 "But, Mr. Bob, is you goin' to take a nap by de spring 
 dis evenin'?" 
 
 "Did you come that other time while I was asleep?" 
 asked Bob. 
 
 "Unh-hunh !" answered Ella, "I tiptoed by and didn't 
 wake you up, though. But you don't never come round 
 de spring much, now, do you, Mr. Bob?" 
 
 "No, I haven't got any business at the spring." 
 
 "But it's a mighty nice, cool plr ~e in dis hot weather," 
 said Ella. 
 
 "Yes, so it is," answered Bob. 
 
 "Ella! Ella!" came Malviny's voice from the house, 
 "Come hyeer dis minute. I want you to go atter some 
 water." 
 
 Ella handed the medal back and hurried to the house.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 AT ten o'clock Friday night Mr. Robertson was in the 
 sitting-room reading David Copperfield. Mrs. Robertson 
 was gone to bed. Although she and her husband read 
 many books aloud together, she didn't like Dickens, and 
 moreover was tired from a hot day's work of preserving 
 peaches for the winter. Mr. Robertson and Bob had 
 spent the afternoon in the big pasture together, doctoring 
 their prize bull. The screw worms had got him this 
 time, and he was hard to handle, so Bob, worn out, had 
 also retired early. Mr. Robertson had seen nothing sus- 
 picious in the big pasture, so his mind was at rest as he 
 read for the fourth or fifth time his favorite book. 
 
 "Mr. Will ! Mr. Will !" came a raucous whisper from 
 the front porch. 
 
 He looked up from the book, and saw against the wire 
 screen of the raised window glistening teeth and 
 shining eyes. 
 
 "Who is that?" he asked not loudly. 
 
 "It's me. It's Cyrus, Mr. Will," came in a voice low, 
 but wildly excited. 
 
 "What's the matter, Cyrus?" 
 
 "Fo* Gaad's sake, come out hyeer, Mr. Will. Come 
 quick." 
 
 There was such fright in the tone that Mr. Robertson 
 jumped from his seat and rushed swiftly to the porch. 
 
 "Sh! Mr. Will, don't make no fuss," said Cyrus. 
 "Come on, come quick." And Cyrus led the way stealth- 
 ily down the steps and around the house toward the rear. 
 
 176
 
 White and Black 177 
 
 Mr. Robertson followed him in alarmed and silent 
 amazement for many paces, but then he asked, "Cyrus, 
 what on earth is the matter?" 
 
 "Come on, Mr. Will, he's out hyeer. He's in de horse- 
 lot, an' he's like a wild man, Mr. Will. He's like a wild 
 man !" 
 
 "Who ? In the name of God, who, Cyrus ?" 
 
 "He say he got to see you, he got to see you right now." 
 
 "But who is it?" 
 
 "Hush, Mr. Will, not so loud. Don't make no noise, 
 Mr. Will." 
 
 "But who is it?" Mr. Robertson asked again. 
 
 "Hush, Mr. Will, it's Madison." 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me so I could get my gun?" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Will, you don't need no gun. Dey is atter 
 him now. Oh, he say can't nobody but you save him, 
 Mr. Will. I tell you he's like a wild man." 
 
 "Who's after him ?" asked Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "All of 'em, all of 'em, Mr. Will, all of 'em dat ain't 
 after Lys." 
 
 "What are they after him for?" 
 
 "Ax him, Mr. Will, he'll tell you. I don't know nuthin* 
 about it, Mr. Will. I don't know nuthin' about it. I 
 ain't got nuthin' to do wid it." 
 
 They came to the horse-lot. There emerged from the 
 shadow of the bam an indistinct figure. It came swiftly 
 toward them, threw itself on the ground at Mr. Robert- 
 son's feet, caught hold of them with its hands, and 
 Madison's voice shaken by the extremest terror implored, 
 "Oh, Mr. Will, oh, Mr. Will, don't let 'em ketch me, 
 don't let 'em hang me, don't let 'em burn me ! Oh, Mr. 
 Will, do somep'n wid me. Quick, quick, Mr. Will !" 
 
 "What's wrong, Madison?"
 
 178 White and Black 
 
 "Oh, dey's atter me, dey's atter me, Mr. Will." 
 
 "What have you done? In the name of God what have 
 you done?" 
 
 "I ain't done nuthin', Mr. Will. I ain't done nuthin*. 
 I swar to Gaad I ain't done nuthin' !" 
 
 "Well, what's the matter, have you gone crazy ?" 
 
 "Naw, suh, naw, suh ! Hide me. Hide me quick, Mr. 
 Will !" 
 
 "But what for? What is wrong?" 
 
 "Oh, dey say Lys, dey say he done, dey say he, dey 
 say" 
 
 "Stop your chattering, and tell me what's the matter 
 with you." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Will, don't git mad at me, don't, don't, Mr. 
 Will" 
 
 "I'm not mad at you. What's happened?" 
 
 "Dey say Lys done attacted dat ar, dat ar " 
 
 "Who?" thundered Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Dat ar Susie Senter, dat ar Mr. Mr. Senter's gal, 
 you know, oh, Mr. Will, you know dat ar " 
 
 "You infernal scoundrel, you infernal scoundrel, you 
 put him up to it," shrieked Mr. Robertson, as he kicked 
 Madison away and broke loose from his hold. 
 
 "Naw, suh, naw, suh, Mr. Will, befo' Gaad I didn't 
 know nuthin' about it. I ain't had nuthin' to do wid it. 
 Oh, Mr. Will, don't let 'em git me. Don't let 'em git 
 me ! Oh, f o' Gaad's sake, Mr. Will ! I ain't had nuthin' 
 to do wid it !" 
 
 "Get up off of that ground! Stand up there!" com- 
 manded Mr. Robertson. 
 
 Madison rose, shaking, to his feet, but trembled so 
 violently that he could hardly keep himself up.
 
 White and Black 179 
 
 "Here, Cyrus, strike this match and hold it to his face." 
 
 "I don't b'lieve I kin strike it, Mr. Will. I don't b'lieve 
 I kin strike it !" chattered Cyrus. 
 
 "Come here, Madison. Stand close. I must see your 
 'face." 
 
 But he himself advanced to Madison, struck the match 
 and by its flare in the windless night scrutinized the dis- 
 torted countenance. 
 
 "You swear to me by all that's good and holy that you 
 had nothing to do with this, Madison?" 
 
 "Naw, suh, naw, suh, befo' Gaad, Mr. Robertson, I 
 don't know nuthin' about it. I ain't had nuthin' to do 
 wid it. Oh, Mr. Will, Mr. Will !" he fell on the ground 
 again, and reached to catch hold of the feet that had 
 but just kicked him, "dey's a-comin', dey's a-comin', oh, 
 we ain't got no time, we ain't got no time " 
 
 "Take him up there in the barn, Cyrus, and hide him 
 under that loose hay. Bury down under it, Madison, and 
 stay still still, do you hear?" 
 
 "Oh, yassuh, Mr. Will, oh, yassuh, Mr. Will, you ain't 
 gwine to let 'em, you ain't gwine to let 'em " 
 
 "No, I'm not going to let 'em get you to-night. Cyrus, 
 as soon as you've hid him, you get to bed and stay there, 
 pull off your clothes, and whatever happens, you be 
 asleep." 
 
 "Yassuh, yassuh, Mr. Will, I sho' will be asleep. Don't 
 you worry, Mr. Will, I sho' will be asleep." 
 
 "Pick him up then and come on. I'll see you help him 
 up the ladder." 
 
 Mr. Robertson stood by to see them climb into the loft, 
 and waited until Cyrus came, half sliding, half falling, 
 down again.
 
 I So White and Black 
 
 "Did you hide him good, Cyrus?" 
 
 "Y-yassuh, I put him under all dat hay," and Cyrus 
 started on a run. 
 
 "Stop," commanded Mr. Robertson, "where are you 
 going so fast?" 
 
 "I I wuz jes gwine to git in de bed befo' nuthin' hap- 
 pens," declared Cyrus. 
 
 As agitated as he was, Mr. Robertson could not restrain 
 a smile, "Well," he said, "I reckon that is the best place 
 for you." 
 
 Cyrus left at top speed. 
 
 Mr. Robertson returned to the sitting-room, resumed 
 his seat, and picked up the book again, thinking half sub- 
 consciously, "I had better be reading when they come." 
 
 Though he held the book open, it was impossible for 
 him to read. His mind was in a turmoil. What had hap- 
 pened? And how far was he responsible for it? Was 
 Madison really innocent? Was it right to hide him? 
 There would certainly be a mob. Was it right to turn 
 Madison over to their fury to-night? What should he 
 say when they came? If they found Madison, what 
 would they think of Will Robertson? \Vhat was his duty 
 to Sim Senter? If there was to be a lynching, what? 
 "Oh, I wish to God I had driven that Ulysses away !" he 
 exclaimed. "And poor, little, unfortunate Susie ! God 
 knows her lot was hard at best. And now this, this! 
 Oh, it's horrible! It's awful beyond words. Oh, I 
 wonder if he killed her. Is she dead? But it may be 
 better so. God ! it may be better so !" 
 
 He heard steps on the porch, the sound of many feet, 
 then a knock at the door. The book fell from his hands. 
 He staggered into the hall and called, "Who's there?"
 
 White and Black !l8l; 
 
 "It's me, Rod Parker, Will," answered from the dark- 
 ness the voice of the sheriff of Compton county. 
 
 "Come in, Rod, what do you want?" 
 
 "No, you'd better come out here, Will." 
 
 Mr. Robertson hurried out, glad of the protection of 
 the dark, "What's wrong?" he asked. 
 
 "Them Mulberry niggers have outraged Sim Senter's 
 girl," said the sheriff. There were eight or ten men with 
 him. 
 
 "Is she dead ? Did they kill her?" asked Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "No, she ain't dead. Dr. Anderson is down there now. 
 I've got my posse divided lookin' for them niggers. I've 
 got one bunch lookin' through the creek bottom now, an' 
 I want you and Bob to come with us. Both of you git 
 your guns." 
 
 "Bob? Bob is not of age." 
 
 "He is old enough to shoot," answered the sheriff, 
 "we've got to capture the niggers and we've got to pro- 
 tect 'em from the mob. But God damn 'em, I'd give a 
 thousand dollars if I wasn't sheriff to-night." 
 
 "Wait a minute and I will wake Bob." He hurried up 
 the stairs, woke Bob, told him to get his gun and dress 
 as fast as he could. Then he went to Mrs. Robertson. 
 "Mamie, darling," he said, "JBob and I have to go with 
 the sheriff and help capture Ulysses Mulberry. He has 
 outraged Susie Senter." 
 
 "Not Bob ! not Bob !" she cried. 
 
 "Yes, Bsb, too, honey." 
 
 "Oh, one of you will be killed. Oh, Will, both of you 
 may be killed !" 
 
 "No, sweetheart, no. There's not much danger." 
 
 She had clung to his embrace, but now she snatched
 
 1 82 White and Black 
 
 herself free and ran to Bob's room, threw her arms around 
 him and wailed, "Oh, Bob, Bob, oh, my son! my son!" 
 
 "What is it, Mama? Oh, what is it?" 
 
 "Oh, you have to go with the sheriff. Oh, you will be 
 killed." 
 
 "What for?" cried Bob, "what for? What have I 
 done?" 
 
 Mr. Robertson came in, "Listen now," he said, "Bob, 
 you and I have to help capture Ulysses Mulberry. He has 
 assaulted Susie Senter." 
 
 "Oh, the infernal scoundrel!" said Bob. "Turn me 
 loose, Mama." And he tore himself from her arms. 
 
 She fell prone on the bed. "Hurry, Bob," said his 
 father, "I'll send Cindy up here to stay with Mama. That's 
 all we can do." He rushed downstairs and out into the 
 back yard. There he beat upon the door of Cindy's house. 
 "Cindy ! Cindy !" he shouted. "Dress and come into the 
 house. Miss Mamie wants you!" 
 
 But no sound came from within. Then he bethought 
 himself, "I told Cyrus to be asleep whatever happened. 
 Neither of them will ever get up for anything outside 
 of the house. What am I going to do?" 
 
 He groped his way to the nearby wood-pile, got a stick 
 of cord-wood, and battered in the door. "It's me, Mr. 
 Will," he cried. "Get out of that bed, Cindy! Get up, 
 Cyrus, and saddle the horses for Bob and me !" 
 
 "How kin I git out of de bed wid you in hyeer, Mr. 
 Will?" faltered Cindy. 
 
 He caught her fat arm and jerked her to the floor. 
 "Don't stop to dress. Run, run, like you are, to Miss 
 Mamie's room. No, to Mr. Bob's room. She is in there." 
 
 Cindy fled. 
 
 "Hurry, Cyrus, and saddle those horses !"
 
 White and Black 183 
 
 "Mr. Mr. Will, I couldn't make de tongue and buckle 
 meet. I's tarrified, Mr. Will. I's plumb tarrified!" 
 
 "Well, put on your clothes, and go and sit in the hall. 
 Take care of Miss Mamie. Bob and I have to go with 
 the sheriff." 
 
 Mr. Robertson ran to the barn, saddled the horses, and 
 rode swiftly to the front, leading Saladin. He found Bob 
 dressed and armed on the porch with the sheriff and his 
 posse. 
 
 "How is she, Bob ?" he asked. 
 
 "Cindy is there, and she is sitting up." 
 
 "She will recover herself after a little. I told Cyrus 
 to stay in the hall downstairs." 
 
 "Well, are we ready?" asked Rod Parker. "But, Will, 
 you haven't got any gun !" 
 
 "Oh, I forgot that, lend me one of yours." 
 
 The sheriff handed him a revolver. "Take that," he 
 said, "and now the question is, where to go? We think 
 one of them niggers started up this way." 
 
 "What do you say about it, Mr. Hiram ?" 
 
 Mr. Hiram's voice answered, "I don't know, I'm ready 
 to go anywhere." 
 
 "What do you say, Randy?" 
 
 "Don't that new nigger preacher stay over hyeer at 
 Uncle Peter Higgins's?" asked Randy Shallow. 
 
 "Yes, but what's he got to do with it?" said Mr. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know, Will, but I've got a sort of hunch 
 that if a nigger hyeer wuz to git into this kind of trouble, 
 and we kinder surrounded him, he'd make for that 
 preacher, 'specially if he wuz a young nigger that had 
 been to the City."
 
 184 White and Black 
 
 "Randy's right," said Tony Peters, "what do you think, 
 Rod?" 
 
 "It's as good luck as any," answered the sheriff, "but 
 if he wuz an old nigger an' hadn't really done it, I bet 
 he'd take a chance on comin' to Will Robertson. I 
 don't know whether Madison had anything to do with 
 it or not. I don't much think he did, but anyways Lys 
 is the main one we want. So we'll chance Richard 
 Sanders." 
 
 The cavalcade started. Mr. Robertson, riding by the 
 side of the sheriff, said, "Tell me about it, Rod." 
 
 "Well, about four o'clock this evenin' they found Susie 
 mighty nigh dead in one of them big gullies in that 
 brush close to the plum thicket. They had to take her 
 home. They had to come and git the doctor and me. 
 I got up a posse, and when we got down there it was 
 about dark. Susie hadn't come to enough to tell us 
 much. They ought to have looked for her quicker, but 
 her mother said she thought Susie was staying a while 
 with her daddy and the boys in the field, till the old gray 
 mule came in with nobody in the buggy. Then she had 
 to send one of the chillun to the field. And it all took 
 time. Me and the posse went over to the Mulberry 
 place. Madison an' Lys wasn't there. The old woman 
 hadn't seen 'em since dinner, she said. The chillun 
 didn't know anything about 'em. I left the posse there 
 to scour the creek bottom, with Judge Mowry at the 
 head of 'em. 
 
 "Then I come back to town and got up some more 
 men and sent 'em down to Judge Mowry. And I had 
 to telephone all the near-by towns. Then I got up this 
 bunch, and here we are."
 
 White and Black 185 
 
 "Well, nobody knows then who actually did commit 
 the assault?" 
 
 "No, not for certain. But I expect by this time that 
 Dr. Anderson has got Susie around to where she can 
 tell. I left Squire Meekin down to the court house to 
 git the news, and everybody was to report to him. And 
 whenever we catch one of the niggers we are to fire off 
 three shots, and if we git both of 'em, five shots. And 
 they are to be brought to Squire Meekin and clapped in 
 the jail and a guard thrown around it." 
 
 "But there will be a thousand men in town to-night 
 from all the country round. Do you think we ever could 
 get the niggers into the jail?" 
 
 "No, I don't think so. I believe my posse itself will 
 go back on me and turn into a mob, but what else can 
 I do?" 
 
 "You can't do anything else unless you happen to find 
 'em yourself, and then maybe you could slip 'em into 
 the jail without giving the signal." 
 
 "I can try that," said the sheriff, "but you know, as 
 well as I do, that even this bunch that I've got here with 
 me ain't goin' to stand for that. And if we got 'em 
 into the jail, I don't know as it would do much good. 
 The only safe thing would be to git 'em out of the 
 county." 
 
 "And we could hardly do that to-night," said Mr. 
 Robertson. 
 
 "No, not likely," answered the sheriff, "but I've got 
 an automobile all ready at the back of the jail, and I 
 figgered that if we could once git him inside and things 
 got too squally, maybe I could rush him through the 
 jail into the car and then light out with him for Simpson
 
 186 White and Black 
 
 county. But we will wait and see, and do the best we 
 can when the time comes." 
 
 Amid a great barking of dogs they reached Uncle 
 Peter Higgins's house. It was a ceiled and painted 
 house of six rooms, for Uncle Peter owned his farm, 
 had no rent to pay, and had been thrifty and saving all 
 of his life. Richard Sanders boarded with him. 
 
 "Surround the house, boys," the sheriff commanded 
 softly, "and have your guns ready. Shoot the dogs, if 
 necessary. Come with me, Will, and we'll knock on 
 the door." 
 
 To their loud knocks responded Uncle Peter's voice, 
 "Who dar?" 
 
 "It's the sheriff, Uncle Peter, open the door." 
 
 "Yassuh, right away, soon as I kin git up, and strike 
 a light." 
 
 Uncle Peter came to the door with a lamp in one hand, 
 shading the top of the lamp chimney against any draft 
 with the other. 
 
 "What were you doing awake, Uncle Peter?" 
 
 "I jest now waked up, Mr. Rod. I hyeered sich a 
 miration 'mongst de dawgs." 
 
 "Do you know what we've come for?" 
 
 "Naw, suh," said Uncle Peter, "but I knows I ain't 
 done nuthin'. You couldn't want me." 
 
 "No, I don't want you, but I want to see Richard 
 Sanders." 
 
 "He sho' ain't done nuthin', Mr. Rod ! He ain't done 
 nuthin', is he ? Oh, sho'ly he ain't done nuthin' ! Who 
 you got wid you, Mr. Rod?" 
 
 "I've got the house surrounded. Nobody inside can 
 get out, and they'd better not try. Where's Richard 
 Sanders ?"
 
 White and Black 187 
 
 "He's in his room, I reckon, Mr. Rod, but it's got a 
 openin' on de side po'ch." 
 
 "Go inside there, Will, and watch the inside door," 
 commanded the sheriff. 
 
 Mr. Robertson pushed by Uncle Peter, who exclaimed, 
 "Lawd, Mr. Will! Whut is it, whut is it, Mr. Will? 
 It must be somep'n awful bad if dey brought you out. 
 Oh, Lawd, Mr. Will, whut is it?" 
 
 "It's as bad as can be," said Mr. Robertson. "Hold 
 that lamp so it will shine on Richard's door. And shut 
 up. Be quiet." 
 
 There came the sound of a loud knocking on the out- 
 side door of Richard's room. "Open, I know you are 
 awake!" called the sheriff. 
 
 "Who is knocking?" came Richard's voice. 
 
 "The sheriff of Compton County! Open the door!" 
 
 "Do you come in the name of the law?" demanded 
 Richard. 
 
 "Open that door, nigger, or I'll shoot through it. 
 Of course I come in the name of the law." 
 
 Richard threw the door open. "First, Mr. Sheriff, I 
 demand " he began. 
 
 "You demand hell ! Strike a light !" 
 
 "But I'm a citizen " 
 
 The door back of him that opened on the inside of the 
 house creaked on its hinges. "Watch out, Will," called 
 the sheriff, "somebody's coming your way." 
 
 The door closed again. 
 
 "I deliver this man to you as the sheriff of Compton 
 county," said Richard, "and I invoke for him the pro- 
 tection of the law. Come here, Brother Ulysses." 
 
 Mr. Robertson had taken the lamp from Uncle Peter 
 and come with it through the inside door into the room.
 
 1 88 White and Black 
 
 It revealed Ulysses crouching in the middle of the floor. 
 He began to crawl toward Mr. Robertson, all his bravado 
 gone, and crying, "Mr. Will " 
 
 "Don't touch me, you dirty beast, I'll kick you in the 
 face," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Wait, I'll put the cuffs on him," said the sheriff. 
 
 He walked forward, and snapped handcuffs on 
 Ulysses' wrists. "And now," he said, "I arrest you, 
 Richard Sanders, for aiding and abetting a known crimi- 
 nal to escape." 
 
 "He has been here for two hours. I wasn't going to 
 try to help him escape from anybody except a mob. 
 As soon as the excitement calmed down, I was going to 
 bring him to you." 
 
 The men outside were growing impatient. "Have you 
 got him? Have you got him?" one of them called. 
 
 "Hold your stands," shouted the sheriff, "he may be 
 out any minute." 
 
 Mr. Robertson said, "Uncle Peter, did you know 
 Ulysses was here?" 
 
 "I I I" stammered Uncle Peter. 
 
 "Did you know what he had done?" 
 
 "He said he ain't done nuthin', an' de white folks wuz 
 atter him," replied Uncle Peter. 
 
 "You knew that couldn't be so." 
 
 "Yassuh, yassuh, Mr. Will, but he begged so hard jes' 
 to stay hyeer to-night, an' Brother Sanders said he'd 
 keep him, an' tend to him to-morrer, an' I thought " 
 
 "Do you know what he did?" 
 
 "Naw, suh, Mr. Will, I don't know. I don't know 
 nuthin' about it." 
 
 "Do you know, Richard?"
 
 White and Black 189 
 
 "Yes, sir, I know what they suspect him of, but he 
 says he is innocent." 
 
 "Do you believe he is innocent?" 
 
 "Well well I believe he ought to be turned over to 
 the officers and and have a fair trial." 
 
 "Rod," said Mr. Robertson, addressing the sheriff,, 
 "you know what's most likely to happen to Ulysses. 
 There's no need to let it happen to Uncle Peter or Rich- 
 ard. I'll answer for them if they are ever needed. You 
 couldn't expect them to do anything else than what they 
 have done. We've got to fix it up somehow." 
 
 "Hurry up in there, we're comin' in," cried a voice 
 from the outside. 
 
 "You manage it, Will," said the sheriff. 
 
 "We've got him," called Mr. Robertson, through the 
 open door, "they had him tied in here, and Richard was 
 just starting to town to notify the officers." Then he 
 said in a low voice to Uncle Peter, "Hand me that rope 
 that's hanging up in the hall there." 
 
 Uncle Peter handed him the rope. The men came 
 swarming in and saw Mr. Robertson with the rope in 
 his hand. Then their eyes fell on Ulysses still crouching- 
 to the floor. They burst into wild curses and pressed 
 forward to get their hands and feet on the prisoner. 
 "Wait, wait, wait, men, for God's sake !" cried the sheriff. 
 
 "Remember, boys, we are -officers of the law," pro- 
 tested Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Put that rope around his neck !" cried Randy Shallow.. 
 
 The rope was snatched from Mr. Robertson's hands. 
 "Wait, wait, till we git him to town," implored the 
 sheriff, "he's got to be identified. Wait till we hear 
 what Susie has said."
 
 190 White and Black 
 
 "Yes, less wait, boys," said Mr. Hiram. 
 
 "Hold on here, Randy, that's right, less wait," said 
 Tony Peters. 
 
 "Wait, hell ! we'll hang him here !" cried a voice. 
 
 "No, no, we'll take him to town and burn him," cried 
 another. 
 
 "Come here, Bob," commanded Mr. Robertson. Bob 
 emerged from the crowd at the door. "Rod, Tony, 
 Hiram, come here." They came to him as called. 
 "Now," he said, "we're going to take this nigger to jail 
 and we are going to do it in an orderly fashion. The 
 first man that touches him has got to reckon with us. 
 
 "Bob, you and Rod, take him and put him on my horse 
 behind the saddle. Hiram, you and Tony, follow behind 
 him. The rest of you, get out of the way, fall back 
 there." 
 
 Marvelously, all obeyed him. He was the last to leave 
 the room. Before going, he said in a low voice, "Rich- 
 ard, you and Uncle Peter leave here and leave quick. 
 Ride east away from Compton as fast as you can go." 
 
 When they started back to Compton, the sheriff com- 
 manded, "Now, boys, we're going to slip him into jail. 
 Don't none of you fire that signal." 
 
 He was answered by a snigger from the darkness. 
 They rode in silence until they were within half a mile of 
 the town. Then suddenly the silence was broken by the 
 three shots. "Who fired that gun?" shouted the sheriff 
 angrily. 
 
 "Never mind now, Rod," said Mr. Robertson, "we've 
 got to make a dash for it. Come on !" He prodded his 
 horse with his heels. It broke into a run. "Come on, 
 Bob! Rod! Tony! Hiram!" he shouted. But all around 
 could be heard the answering signals, first near at hand,
 
 White and Black 191 
 
 then farther and farther away, up and down the creek 
 bottom, east and west, north and south. "My God," 
 he cried, "it's hopeless!" 
 
 And it was hopeless. As they entered the town, they 
 were surrounded by a mob of infuriated men, who 
 snatched Ulysses from the horse and dragged him to the 
 court house square. There they milled and swarmed 
 around him, firing irregular volleys into the air and 
 yelling like wild beasts. 
 
 A piercing voice was heard, "Git a rope, git a rope." 
 
 Ten voices answered, "Here's a rope ! Here's a rope. 
 Let me git to him." 
 
 "Naw, naw," called others, "hangin's too good for him. 
 We're goin' to burn him!" 
 
 Judge Mowry had come. He climbed to the steps 
 that led over the court house fence. Somebody had 
 procured torches. Their light showed him standing 
 erect. His powerful voice penetrated the tumult. "Fel- 
 low citizens," he said, "we've got to have some order 
 about this thing." 
 
 Those near stopped their clamor and gradually the 
 quietness spread outward to the edges of the crowd. 
 "Fellow citizens, I report that the victim of an unspeak- 
 able outrage has identified her assailant. She says it was 
 this brute we have here, and him alone. What shall we 
 do with him? Shall we " 
 
 He got no further. "Hang him! Burn him! Burn 
 him! Hang him! Burn him! Burn him!" 
 
 Sim Senter was carried to the front and lifted to a 
 place by the side of Judge Mowry. "There's Sim. Sim, 
 what do you say, Sim?" yelled the crowd. 
 
 In the flickering light Sim's face loomed a picture of
 
 192 White and Black 
 
 grief, horror, fury, "I say burn him, God damn him!'* 
 he shrieked. 
 
 But somehow Brother Maxcy had attained a position 
 by his side, "No, no," he cried, "men, I beseech you, I 
 beg you in the name of the law, in the name of God 
 
 "Ha, the parson !" yelled the crowd, "the parson. Ha ! 
 ha ! ha ! the parson, pull him down, throw him out. 
 Knock him down, Sim." 
 
 Sim, infuriated, drew back his hand to deal the blow, 
 but his arm was caught by Judge Mowry, "No, no, 
 Sim," he commanded, "Maxcy, get down, get away from 
 here quick!" 
 
 "Oh, men, brothers, you will repent this " Brother 
 Maxcy implored, but he was seized from behind, dragged 
 <lown, and pushed, shoved, and hustled to the outer edge 
 of the crowd. 
 
 "Burn him, burn him, burn him!" was shrieked from 
 all sides. 
 
 "All right, boys, tie him to the fence! Here's the 
 stuff to burn him with." Advancing through the crowd 
 came two men with a railroad tie. "There's a pile of 
 'em back there!" 
 
 Ropes were brought with miraculous swiftness, and 
 the shrieking prisoner was tied to the fence with a hun- 
 dred knots. "Oh, Gaad," he cried, "oh, Mr. Will, Mr. 
 Will, oh, Jedge, oh, Jedge, oh, Mr. Will, don't let 'em, 
 don't let 'em !" 
 
 Somebody struck him a blow in the mouth that stifled 
 his cries. A line of men came bringing railroad ties. 
 They built a close pen of these pine ties around him. 
 Two men struggled to get through the crowd with a 
 barrel of kerosene taken from a store. "Let us pour 
 it on," they yelled, "let us pour it on !"
 
 White and Black 193 
 
 Way was made for them. They drenched the wood 
 with the oil. Suddenly above all noises was heard a 
 piercing shriek, "I will light it. I will light it. Git out of 
 the way, I will light it." And Harry, a torch in his 
 hand, came pushing, struggling, to the front. His was 
 the face of a fury, as his eyes met the convulsed fea- 
 tures of Ulysses, "Damn you, damn you, I've got you," 
 he shrieked, "oh, ha ! ha ! ha ! I've got you !" 
 
 He applied the torch to the oiled wood. As the flames 
 shot up, he drew the torch back, and dashed it with all 
 his strength straight into the immovable face of Ulysses. 
 "There, take that ! Take that from me. Oh, ha ! ha ! ha I 
 take that from me!" He sank insensible to the ground 
 and was dragged away. 
 
 The flames caught the wood and crackled. There was 
 the sickening odor of burning flesh. Human voices fell 
 silent. All eyes were fixed in a stare of horrid fascina- 
 tion on the billowing fire. Then from the midst of the 
 crowd was heard, "Damn 'em, I love to hear 'em fry!'*
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE newspaper reporters who came speeding to Compton 
 the next morning, found a depressed town. An unnat- 
 ural quietness prevailed. It was Saturday, but no Ne- 
 groes were visible, and the few whites on the street 
 showed in their gait and attitudes the reaction from the 
 intense excitement of the night before, but under this 
 reaction could be sensed the odor of a dying exultation 
 mingled with defiance and guilt. It was as if they felt 
 that the outside world were judging them harshly, that 
 in part they deserved the censure and were ashamed, but 
 that also the outside world did not fully understand, and 
 that at any rate they had shown that world that theirs 
 was a white man's country in which the white race would 
 tolerate no assaults on its integrity. 
 
 In answer to a wire from the governor, the sheriff 
 answered that all was quiet and he anticipated no fur- 
 ther trouble. Squire Meekin held an inquest, and a ver- 
 dict was returned that Ulysses Mulberry came to his 
 death at the hands of unknown parties. The court-house 
 fence was repaired, and all ashes were cleared away, but 
 there were those who picked up little pieces of bone for 
 souvenirs. Word was brought in that the body of a 
 Negro, shot to death, was found by the side of the road 
 two miles west of Compton. He turned out to be a 
 Negro strange to the community, who had had the bad 
 luck to pick out that night for traveling. 
 
 Over on the old Benton place the folks slept the sleep 
 of exhaustion till ten o'clock in the morning, and then 
 
 194
 
 White and Black 195 
 
 Mr. Robertson had to wake Cindy to cook breakfast 
 Bob and Mrs. Robertson did not come down till the meal 
 was announced. 
 
 "Oh, it was horrible, horrible!" said Mrs. Robertson, 
 
 "Yes, honey, it was too horrible to think about," an- 
 swered her husband. 
 
 "I never can quit thinking about it," said Bob. "I 
 know I shall always have the picture of it in my mind." 
 
 "Couldn't you do anything, Will?" asked Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 "No, I had Ulysses up behind me, but so many men 
 crowded up and grabbed me all at once that I was help- 
 less. Of course I might possibly have shot one or two 
 of them" 
 
 "Oh, I am glad you didn't do that," said his wife. 
 "I thank God that we are spared that." 
 
 "Yes, and it wouldn't have done any good." 
 
 "Might you not have ridden straight east away from 
 Compton and so have brought the prisoner safe to some 
 other jail?" 
 
 "He couldn't have done that," said Bob, "because the 
 men outside there where I was, said that they bet Papa 
 and Mr. Parker were going to try to save that nigger, 
 but that they were going to watch out and were not going 
 to stand for anything like that." 
 
 "Yes, Rod and I both knew there wasn't any use in 
 trying to start east," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "But after all there wasn't any doubt about his guilt; 
 was there?" asked Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "No, I suppose not," answered her husband, "Judge 
 Mowry said that Susie had identified him." 
 
 "Well, it's awful, but it may be best as it is," said 
 Mrs. Robertson.
 
 196 White and Black 
 
 "Oh, I can't think that ! I can't think that !" exclaimed 
 Mr. Robertson. "But but the trouble is that I don't 
 know what is right. Still it can't be right to burn a 
 .human being alive." 
 
 "Oh, Papa, wasn't it horrible?" said Bob with a shud- 
 der. "And yet at the time I felt somehow sorter 
 sorter like the others there. Didn't you, Papa ?" 
 
 "Yes, son, I am ashamed to say I did." 
 
 "But, Will, you didn't leave Bob there to to look at 
 it all, did you ?" 
 
 "No, Bob and I got separated, but I found him, and 
 then we took Brother Maxcy home. He was rather 
 roughly handled. One of his legs was sprained and he 
 was bruised about the face and body." 
 
 "Oh, tell me about it. How did it happen? What 
 was he doing there? Was he badly hurt? Oh, was he 
 badly hurt?" 
 
 "No, not so badly," and Mr. Robertson gave her an 
 account of Brother Maxcy's attempted protest. "And 
 when we got him home," he finished with a smile, "Sister 
 Maxcy was kissing and petting him one minute and be- 
 rating him the next for having exposed himself to such 
 danger. She would laugh to have him back and cry for 
 what he had gone through. But we managed to get him 
 to bed at last, and then most of the worst of it was over 
 when we came back by the court-house." 
 
 "Is there danger of anything more, Will ?" 
 
 "No, I don't think so, but I've got to go and see, so I 
 may know what to do with Madison." 
 
 "With Madison! Where is he?" 
 
 "He's out in the barn." 
 
 "Oh, Will, Will, you didn't leave him here last night 
 when you went away, did you?"
 
 White and Black 197 
 
 "Yes, I didn't have time to do anything else with him." 
 
 "Oh, if I had known that, I couldn't have stood it. To 
 think, that horrible creature was here in the barn and 
 you went off and left me! Oh, Will, how could you?" 
 Mrs. Robertson burst into tears. 
 
 "Now, Mamie, now, honey, Madison couldn't have 
 harmed a mouse last night. He was scared to death. 
 Nothing short of fire could have made him move out of 
 that barn. But I'll have to go to town to tell Rodney 
 Parker about it to-day, and see how he thinks we ought 
 to handle him." 
 
 "Will," said Mrs. Robertson amid sobs, "there's one 
 thing. Bob has got to stay here with me till you get that 
 demon off the place. Oh, Will, think of what might have 
 happened last night ! I don't know, I don't know, yes, I 
 think they ought to be burned !" 
 
 "Now, Mama, I'm going to stay here with you, right 
 with you," said Bob. 
 
 "I never would have believed your Papa would have 
 done that," she said. 
 
 "I tell you, Mamie, there wasn't a particle of danger !" 
 He felt he was right, but in his mind there was an un- 
 easiness, as he looked back, that could not be put down. 
 He knew that he could have persuaded the sheriff to leave 
 either him or Bob at home, and he felt that Cindy and 
 Cyrus might not have been a very effective guard, they 
 were already so frightened. * What if revenge had over- 
 come fear in Madison? What then? What would he 
 then have wanted to do with Madison ? He couldn't bear 
 the thought of what might have happened. "Well," he 
 said, "I am sorry, Mamie. I was trying to do what 
 seemed right. And it turned out there was no danger.
 
 198 White and Black 
 
 Good-by, dear, I must go to town." And he hurried 
 away without waiting for her reply. 
 
 She buried her face in her arms on the table and wept. 
 
 Bob sat confused, not knowing what to say. 
 
 After a little while, she rose, telling Bob that she 
 would go to her room. 
 
 Shortly before noon Mr. Robertson returned. He 
 found Bob sitting dismally in the front hall. "All is 
 quiet in town," he said. "Rod Parker and I decided it 
 would be best to wait till dark and then take Madison to 
 jail. He can be kept there a few days before anybody 
 much will know it, and then there will be no further 
 danger at all. Where's your mother?" 
 
 "She's upstairs," answered Bob. 
 
 After dinner, to which Mrs. Robertson did not come 
 down, Bob was too restless to sleep. His father had 
 commanded him not to go to town, not to leave the place, 
 and had then returned upstairs, carrying his mother's din- 
 ner to her. Bob wandered through the house from room 
 to room downstairs, sat down, got up again, tried in 
 vain to read, walked up and down the porch, and then 
 there came to his memory, "The spring is a mighty nice 
 cool place in this hot weather." 
 
 So he concluded to go to the spring. In his mind was 
 the picture of Ulysses tied to the fence and being walled 
 about with the cross ties, then of the billowing flames now 
 and again parted, or swept to one side, by a current of air, 
 allowing a glimpse of their charred victim. He kept 
 thinking that his feeling ought to be one of pure and un- 
 mixed horror, but it wasn't. Something savage in him 
 billowed and flared up like those flames, despite his ef- 
 forts to put it down. The recollection was repulsive,
 
 White and Black 199 
 
 but mixed with it was a craving and the idea of flesh, of 
 naked, quivering flesh grasped in bare hands. 
 
 It was a difficult task for Mr. Robertson to placate his 
 wife. Again and again she told him, "You knew that 
 I am not easily frightened, but that over all of us white 
 women here hangs forever that dark shadow. The 
 danger is always there. In our nightmares we fancy a 
 black hand at our throats, the evil breath of a black body 
 burning our faces." 
 
 He repeated over and over, "But, Mamie, you know that 
 such occurrences are very rare. And almost never has 
 it happened that a woman of your standing has been at- 
 tacked. And here were Cindy and Cyrus." 
 
 "What could they have done?" she would answer. 
 "What would they have done? And suppose Cyrus and 
 Madison had joined forces. Oh, Will, think of that! 
 Cindy would have run, howling. And I " 
 
 "No, honey, no. It is unthinkable that such a thing 
 would have happened. As against Madison, Cyrus would 
 have defended you with his life, and Cindy would have 
 fought like a tigress. They were afraid of a mob, of 
 a white mob, not of a man of their own color. And then 
 Madison wouldn't do anything of that sort himself." 
 
 "You didn't know, Will. Nobody can really know, but 
 on a theory you risked your wife." 
 
 One time he said most unluckily, "But I owed a duty to 
 the community, to humanity." 
 
 It took an hour of entreaty and lavished endearments 
 to assuage her after that. And it was not until he had 
 acknowledged repeatedly that he was wholly wrong, that 
 he had acted under the overwhelming excitement of the 
 moment, that he was not himself, and to such acknowl-
 
 2OO White and Black 
 
 edgments had added time and again protestations that 
 he loved her beyond words to express, that she was finally 
 placated. 
 
 She told him then to leave her and see what Bob was 
 doing after the fearful ordeal to which he had been sub- 
 jected. 
 
 Two hours afterwards at supper she was serene. The 
 only trace of lingering resentment that she showed, was 
 the addressing of most of her conversation to Bob. 
 
 About nine o'clock the sheriff drove to the front door 
 in a motor car. Madison was led from the barn, and 
 delivered to him. And he drove away with his prisoner 
 as one surrendered by his bondsman on the charge of 
 hog theft. But both the sheriff and Mr. Robertson knew 
 that Madison's chances of the lightest sentence for that 
 felony were gone glimmering. The best he could hope 
 for, after all that had happened, was the longest pos- 
 sible term in the penitentiary that the law allowed for 
 such a crime. And Mr. Robertson could not help re- 
 flecting that such action on the part of the jury, though 
 illogical, would be natural. 
 
 That night Mrs. Robertson said, "Will, you do love 
 me, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes, honey, of course I love you better than any- 
 thing else in the world." 
 
 "Leave out the 'of course,' Will." 
 
 "Yes, dear, I love you better than anything else in 
 the world." 
 
 "Then kiss me, Will, and hold me tight, tight."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 NEXT morning at Sunday-school, Minnie Deane made 
 pretty eyes at Bob, but he avoided her glances. In the 
 interval between Sunday-school and church, he did not 
 seek her out as heretofore, but he went outside of the 
 building, and loafed near the entrance and under the 
 neighboring trees, and talked with the other boys about 
 the lynching. Most of them vied with each other in 
 trying to relate details that had escaped general ob- 
 servation. Their verdict was unanimous that Ulysses 
 had got no more than what was justly due him, and to 
 this they added the sentiment that they reckoned this 
 would hold the niggers down for a while. The Sun- 
 day-school lesson that they had just finished reciting had 
 for its Golden Text, "To-day if ye will hear his voice, 
 harden not your hearts," and went on to tell how Saul 
 of Tarsus was "taught according to the perfect manner 
 of the law of the fathers," and to admonish, "and these 
 words, which I command thee this day, shall be in thine 
 heart: And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy 
 children, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in 
 thine house, and when thou walkest by the way, and 
 when thou liest down, and when thou risest up." 
 
 Jasper Deane, junior, said, "Didn't old Harry swat 
 him a good one though with that torch ?" 
 
 And his brother, Willie, added, "I bet you I would 
 have hit him twice." 
 
 "Yes, you would have done a lot," jeered Tom Parker, 
 
 201
 
 2O2 White and Black 
 
 the sheriff's son, "you've got just about spunk enough to 
 wring a chicken's neck, and that's all." 
 
 "Well," answered Willie, "I didn't see your dad do so 
 much. It was his duty to put the prisoner in jail." 
 
 "Hunh ! he didn't try. He could have put him there 
 if he had wanted to. But your dad stayed at home in 
 bed. He had a pain and couldn't do nothing. Ha ! ha ! 
 ha ! I know he had a pain in his gizzard ! Or maybe 
 he was skeered it would cost him something. He's al- 
 ways got a pain in his pocket-book." 
 
 "You are a liar," cried Jasper, junior. 
 
 There was danger of its coming to blows, when Jared 
 Peters interposed with: "They tell me that Mr. Will 
 Robertson was the principal one that caught him." 
 
 "Well, that's a lie," said Tom Parker, "somebody is 
 always trying to make out that Mr. Will Robertson 
 runs this town, and he don't, not by a long shot." 
 
 "How about it, Bob, you was with 'em, wasn't you? 
 I heard Papa say you was with 'em." 
 
 "Yes, I was there," said Bob, "and" 
 
 "I wisht the gang I was with had ha' caught him," 
 interrupted Jasper, junior, "I bet you we never would've 
 brought him in alive, or anyhow we'd have shot him up 
 some and burnt him afterwards." He made a gesture 
 with his left hand that brought into striking evidence 
 the fact that he had lost his little finger. 
 
 "Yes, they did put him out of his misery too quick," 
 said Jared. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," said Tom Parker, "you fellers 
 make me sick talkin' about what you would have done, 
 and what ought to have been done, and all that. The 
 nigger was burned plumb up, wasn't he?" 
 
 "It looks to me like that was enough," said Bob.
 
 White and Black 203 
 
 "Hunh, Randy Shallow said your dad didn't want to 
 burn him at all, nor hang him, nor do nothing except 
 put him in jail to be tried," said Jared. 
 
 "Well, I'll swear !" said Jasper, junior. 
 
 "Mr. Will always was a sort of milk and water fel- 
 ler," said Tom Parker, "and Bob don't miss him far." 
 
 "Take that back," said Bob, advancing on him bel- 
 ligerently, "or I'll" 
 
 "Well, don't git huffy," answered Tom, laughing pro- 
 vokingly, "I'll take it back. Anyhow, we can't fight 
 right here before the church." 
 
 "I'll fight you now or any other time," declared Bob 
 angrily. 
 
 "Hunh, ain't Bob gittin' bold since Harry Senter licked 
 him?" taunted little Willie Deane. 
 
 "He's a regular Goliah the second," said Jasper, junior. 
 
 "I thought Bob was aimin' to git to be one of the 
 Deane family," said Tom, "how about that, Jasper?" 
 
 But Mr. Hiram Shorter came to the door of the 
 church and beckoned, saying, "Come in, boys, the serv- 
 ice is beginning." 
 
 Bob was surprised, but relieved, to see no sign that 
 the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper was to be admin- 
 istered, although it was the first Sunday of the month. 
 On the table within the chancel rail was no cover of 
 white cloth peaked up in the center. On a Communion 
 Sunday Bob knew the covering would be there, and that 
 the peak would be made by the height of the silver 
 pitcher that contained the grape juice that had been 
 substituted for the wine of his childhood, and he knew 
 that with the silver pitcher of grape juice would be two 
 silver goblets and a silver platter holding the unleavened 
 bread. Bob held the sacrament in a peculiar reverence,
 
 204 White and Black 
 
 and could not get over the idea that he who ate and 
 drank unworthily, ate and drank to his own damnation. 
 And in the light of his recent past conduct he could not 
 think of himself as eating and drinking worthily. 
 
 During the opening hymn and prayer he had time to 
 reflect on his conversation with the other boys, or, rather, 
 that conversation ran idly through his mind. He knew 
 that all of them talked much more savagely than they 
 really felt, that they would be ashamed to show any 
 softness, but wished rather to produce on each other the 
 impression of hardy valor. Not that Bob expressed it 
 so clearly to himself, but the hazy recognition of it was 
 in his brain. Then it came to him that the Deane boys 
 seemed decidedly hostile, and he wondered what they 
 knew. He didn't care so much about them, but what 
 they knew would soon be known to everybody. And 
 Bob didn't know how he could live past the fact of that 
 knowledge getting to his father and mother. Church 
 made a fellow feel bad, anyway, and he wished he didn't 
 have to come. 
 
 Brother Maxcy in the pulpit, pulling himself up by 
 grasping the reading desk, rose unsteadily to his feet. 
 His face showed many bruises. "For the two lessons, 
 I will read the Sunday-school lesson of to-day and that 
 for next Sunday, July the tenth," he said, and proceeded 
 to read about Saul of Tarsus, the giving of the Law, 
 and the martyrdom of Stephen at the hands of a mob, 
 with Saul consenting unto his death. 
 
 Then he announced as his text, "I verily thought with 
 myself that I ought to do many things contrary to the 
 name of Jesus of Nazareth." 
 
 As the sermon progressed, Jasper Deane, junior, gazed 
 for relief at the ceiling, then out of the window, then he
 
 White and Black 205 
 
 cut his eye at Jared Peters and found that he was snif- 
 fling. A tear started in Jasper, junior's, eye, welled up 
 over the lower lid, and fell tumbling down on his Sun- 
 day shirt. Tom Parker held out valiantly for a longer 
 time, but at last he bowed his head on the seat in front 
 of him and sobbed. Bob buried his face in his handker- 
 chief, and had to blow his nose time and again, while 
 little Willie Deane collapsed utterly. 
 
 The older members of the congregation were also 
 deeply moved, especially the men. The women had at 
 least taken no active part in the mob, and that was now 
 something of a salve to their consciences, though many 
 of them, too, wept. 
 
 Near the close of the sermon Brother Maxcy said, 
 "I perceive from your tears that the love of Christ is 
 in you, but I have decided not to have the Communion 
 to-day, because we are unworthy to partake of it. After 
 a week of prayer and repentance, it may be that some 
 of us may dare, trembling, to approach the table of the 
 Lord's Supper, but not now. A blood-guiltiness is on 
 our souls. We have not searched ourselves sufficiently 
 to know whether or not, or how much, our sloth or greed 
 or indifference or self -righteousness was responsible for 
 the crime of Ulysses Mulberry, as our craven fear and 
 demoniac rage were responsible for the torture of his 
 death." 
 
 Immediately after the sermon, he pronounced the 
 benediction, and with streaming eyes, sank exhausted into 
 his chair. 
 
 As the congregation filed out of the church, it was as 
 if they had been released from a spell. A feverish 
 gaiety of talk about other things sprang up among them. 
 But the boys first cast sheepish glances at each other,
 
 206 White and Black 
 
 trying to determine how much their emotion had been 
 noticed by their companions. Almost at once they began 
 to cast about for devices to build up again their pre- 
 tence of hardness. It was maddening to think that they 
 had acted the part of "sissies." 
 
 Minnie Deane managed to come out side by side with 
 Bob. "Hello, Bob," she said, "have you got a cold?" 
 
 "No, I haven't," said Bob, "but I saw you crying, 
 too." 
 
 "Oh, I didn't know you were condescending to throw 
 a look at me," she answered. 
 
 "Now, Minnie, I you know I," stammered Bob. 
 
 "Minnie, Minnie," Mrs. Deane's voice was heard, 
 "where is Minnie?" 
 
 "Here I am, Mama." 
 
 "Well, come on, we're going, Papa wants to start the 
 car." She came up, caught Minnie's arm, and saying 
 icily, "Good morning, Bob," hurried her daughter away. 
 
 "I don't blame her," thought Bob, "I'm not fit for 
 anything. But who is fit for anything here? But Papa 
 didn't stand by consenting to the lynching, and he lives 
 right, too. Oh, Papa is one of the best men in the 
 world! But what am I?" 
 
 When the Deanes reached home, and Mr. and Mrs. 
 Deane were left alone together, Jasper, senior, said, 
 "Well, I think Brother Maxcy went too far. After all 
 is said and done, there is a lot of difference between 
 Ulysses Mulberry and Stephen, the martyr. And as for 
 our greed or anything else being responsible for Ulysses* 
 crime, that's all stuff and nonsense. It makes me tired, 
 and I think we'd better get a preacher who understands 
 us, and has got something practical about him." 
 
 "Yes, I think so, too," said Mrs. Deane, "he had me
 
 White and Black 207 
 
 crying and there were tears in your eyes, too, but mar- 
 tyrdoms for the love of Christ and lynchings for out- 
 rages of women are mighty different things. And what 
 are we going to do with these niggers, men and women, 
 I'd like to know? They are getting more uppity every 
 day, and nothing we can do, will keep 'em down. They 
 are ruining our boys and girls, that's what they are 
 doing, and what they are going to keep on doing." 
 
 "Yes, educate 'em, educate 'em, educate 'em, he says. 
 And I'd like to know what good that's going to do. And 
 be kinder to 'em and build better houses for 'em, and 
 let 'em have more money, and set 'em better examples, 
 and deal more fairly with 'em, and all that. What does 
 a nigger care for good examples and kind treatment? 
 What he wants is an easy time and plenty of women, 
 and grub and fine clothes that he don't have to work for, 
 that's what he wants. I say make 'em work, make 'em 
 work, and if they do wrong, punish 'em, that's what I 
 say." 
 
 "And hold 'em away from our boys and girls," added 
 Mrs. Deane. 
 
 "Yes and that, too," agreed Jasper, senior, "and all 
 the talk about Christian treatment of 'em, and about 
 their being the white man's burden, and about our re- 
 sponsibility for them before God, that's all foolishness, 
 and never will come to anything. They were slaves, they 
 were born to be slaves, and they are not fit for anything 
 else! Educating them is wasting the money and ruin- 
 ing the nigger." 
 
 "Yes, that's true, Jasper, but I've been looking over 
 the catalogues, and I believe I've picked out a college 
 for Minnie, if it suits you."
 
 208 White and Black 
 
 "I bet you've picked out the most expensive one," said 
 Jasper. 
 
 "No, indeed I haven't. I have selected one where 
 she can finish in two years." 
 
 "Well, that's long enough, and I suppose I'll have to 
 send her somewhere, since Will Robertson is going to 
 send Bob." 
 
 "But, Jasper, I've told you about Bob, and I want to 
 break that up." 
 
 "Great God! Miriam, what are you talking about? 
 I thought you were a practical woman. In the first 
 place you don't really know anything against Bob. There 
 is nothing but suspicion, and even if it's true, what does 
 it amount to?" 
 
 "It amounts to a great deal, I think," said Mrs. Deane. 
 
 "Well, it don't. If you think you are going to git 
 a tin angel for Minnie, you are mistaken. And Bob's 
 an only child, and he will have the two farms, a thou- 
 sand acres, not to speak of the fifteen hundred acres of 
 timber land. If Will had had any business sense, he 
 would have sold that timber two years ago. He could 
 have got sixty thousand dollars. But no, he is going 
 to save it and give it to Bob when he comes of age. 
 That may be just as well though; Will would probably 
 fritter away the money, or give it away, if he had it. 
 The taxes on it keep Will's nose to the grindstone and 
 the price has gone down, but the price will come back 
 and he will likely keep the taxes paid. So it will be a 
 good -thing after all." 
 
 "But to think, Jasper, of Bob's marrying our daugh- 
 ter, after he, after he " 
 
 "Oh, that will be done with and forgotten. Where 
 are you going to find a young man around here "
 
 White and Black 209 
 
 "Surely, surely, Jasper, there must be some." 
 
 "Oh, there may be one now and again, but what have 
 they got? nothing. And then you never can know for 
 certain, anyhow!" 
 
 "Jasper, you don't think that any of our sons " 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. How should I know? But I 
 think it would be a miracle " 
 
 "But Bob as good as told Minnie. He said he wasn't 
 worthy to touch her." 
 
 "Well, that speaks in his favor. Lots of 'em wouldn't 
 feel that way. Or if they did, they wouldn't say any- 
 thing about it. Bob has got a conscience like his father's, 
 and it pesters him about everything." 
 
 "But certainly Mr. Robertson never was guilty of 
 anything of that sort." 
 
 "Oh, well, we won't discuss that. If he was, it is 
 past history now. And you know good and well there's 
 not a better husband in Compton county than Will Rob- 
 ertson. The only thing the matter with him is he don't 
 know the value of a dollar, and he is foolish about being 
 so mortally easy on his niggers and poor folks that owe 
 him money. But that don't keep him from being a good 
 husband. And I'll manage to git in a lick or two on 
 Bob myself, and keep him from throwing away what 
 his daddy gives him. No, sir, Minnie couldn't do better, 
 and you git that foolish notion out of your head. I 
 want you to invite 'em all over to dinner or something, 
 some time this week." 
 
 "Oh, it's horrible, horrible," said Mrs. Deane, burst- 
 ing into tears, "how we are cursed with these niggers. 
 Everybody calls us savages when we burn the men for 
 outraging white girls, and the women go on day after
 
 2IO White and Black 
 
 day ruining our boys. What are we to do? Oh, what 
 are we to do?" 
 
 "Well, there's no need to cry about it," said Jasper, 
 senior, "it's an old story. And we manage to git on 
 pretty well. We brought the niggers here, and what 
 would we do if we didn't have 'em to work for us? 
 We'd have to do all the work ourselves, or we'd have 
 to git some foreigners or poor whites to do it. And I 
 don't know that they'd be any better. I haven't heard 
 that Massachusetts or France or New York or Italy is 
 such a moral place. There may not be so many rapes 
 there, I am not sure of that, but poor women the world 
 over " 
 
 "Well, then, the poverty of the women is the cause " 
 "Yes, that's one of 'em. And that's one reason why 
 I don't want any of my folks to be poor. And I'll let 
 you know they are not going to be poor, either, not until 
 after I die, and they are not going to have any excuse 
 for being poor then," Mr. Deane finished triumphantly.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 AT the Shady Grove Baptist church Richard Sanders 
 preached on the text: "For he that soweth to his flesh 
 shall of the flesh reap corruption." 
 
 Late Saturday afternoon Richard and Uncle Peter had 
 received news by the grapevine telegraph that it would 
 be safe to come back, so they returned in the night. 
 There had been some scattering talk about punishing 
 them, but the death of Ulysses really slaked the thirst of 
 the mob for vengeance, and those who did the talking 
 about Richard and Uncle Peter were merely seeking to 
 impress their hearers with their greater devotion to the 
 doctrine of white supremacy, it seemed. So there was 
 thought to be no actual danger after Friday night. 
 
 Whatever Richard may have felt, he was shrewd 
 enough to know that the proper keynote for him to strike 
 was reproof of his people for their carnality. He would 
 be understood by his own people, the sermon might do 
 them some good, and any news of it filtering to the 
 white folks would make a good impression on them. 
 
 In going to the church the members of the congrega- 
 tion had avoided passing through town, as indeed all 
 Negroes had withdrawn to themselves, avoiding the whites 
 as far as practicable, since the lynching. But a larger 
 congregation than usual was gathered for the services, 
 which were held in the afternoon. That arrangement 
 had been made by Richard for the convenience of sev- 
 eral of his members, who were cooks for white people, 
 
 211
 
 212 White and Black 
 
 and therefore could not very well come in the forenoon. 
 Among these was Cindy. 
 
 She sat now on the front seat, and ogled Richard with 
 fervor and admiration, as he waxed warm in his de- 
 nunciation of sins of the flesh. Approval, along with 
 perspiration, exuded from her every pore, as she fol- 
 lowed the discourse with emphatic nods of her head, and 
 now and again with audible expressions of enthusiasm 
 from her lips. But never for a moment did it enter 
 her mind that all of this was anything else except just 
 preaching. Richard Sanders was to her two different 
 individuals inside the pulpit he was a preacher, outside 
 he was a man. In her opinion he acquitted himself as 
 a preacher well, and she was beginning to entertain hopes 
 of him as a man. Her fancy for Cyrus was waning. 
 
 Two or three benches farther back were Joe Williams 
 and his family, and behind them Sally Ramsey, who had 
 forsaken the Methodists since the advent of Richard. 
 There were then at least two other pairs of feminine 
 eyes besides Cindy's fastened on the preacher and glow- 
 ing with thoughts of this world and the sweetness thereof. 
 But of the three women only Lucindy Williams never 
 doubted that the sermon was an index to the private con- 
 duct of Richard. Without ever having heard of psy- 
 chology, Sally had a pretty definite idea that somehow 
 or other Richard would probably feel after such a ser- 
 mon that he had done his whole duty with reference 
 to carnality and would be more susceptible to the proper 
 advances. While Cindy regarded all sermons as deliv- 
 ered for public consumption and as having no practical 
 bearing on individual behavior outside of the church. 
 
 After the services were over, Cindy hurried to con- 
 gratulate the pastor. "Dat sho' wuz a powerful ser-
 
 White and Black 213 
 
 mon, Brother Sanders," she said. "I been a-thinkin' 
 and a-thinkin' 'bout you. You ain't never out of my 
 mind. You preaches so hard, and you don't never have 
 no fun, a-studyin' and a-readin' in dem books all of de 
 time. Whyn't you come to see folks some time? I 
 don't never have nuthin' to do after eight o'clock." 
 
 "Thank you, Sister, I must pay more attention to 
 pastoral calls." 
 
 "Dat's right, you must. Folks wants to git 'quainted 
 wid you, and it ain't no piece from Brother Williams's 
 house to mine," she said with a titter. "I been enter- 
 tainin' preachers all my life. I likes 'em, and dey likes 
 me." 
 
 "Well, I shall certainly try to come," answered Rich- 
 ard, smiling. 
 
 "Tuesday night will be a good time. I'll finish up 
 wid de supper things quick an' be expectin' you 'bout 
 eight o'clock." 
 
 "God willing, Sister, I'll try to come," answered Rich- 
 ard. 
 
 By advantage of sheer bulk Cindy had warded off the 
 other members, but they were not to be put off longer, 
 and attracted Richard's attention by pulling at his sleeves. 
 He turned to this side and that to receive their praise, 
 saying, "It's not me, but the Lord speaking through me. 
 It is the coal from the altar that he has laid on my lips." 
 
 Joe Williams and his family managed to surround 
 him, and Joe said, "Brother Sanders, you mus' come 
 home wid us. Malviny and de gals has laid out a snack 
 and it's dar a-waitin'. Lucindy say she boun' she gwine 
 to show you whut a fried chicken is, an' I got two de 
 biggest watermillons you ever seen a-layin' up in de 
 cool."
 
 214 White and Black 
 
 "Nobody could resist so many attractions," said Rich- 
 ard, looking meaningly at the girls. Lucindy dropped 
 her head, giggled, and rubbed the toe of her shoe on the 
 floor. 
 
 They started down the aisle toward the door. Sally 
 stood waiting between two benches. As they were pass- 
 ing, she caught the tail of Richard's coat, and gave it a 
 gentle tug. To her face she held a beautifully clean 
 handkerchief, from behind which she asked brokenly, 
 "Brother Brother Sanders, lem'me speak to you." 
 
 "Excuse me a minute," the pastor said to the Wil- 
 liamses, as he turned aside between the two benches and 
 suffered Sally to draw him a short distance apart from 
 the others. 
 
 "Oh, B-B-Brother Sanders," sobbed Sally, "I've been 
 a sinner, an' I can't stand it no mo'. I can't stand 
 to think about it. Whut is I gwine to do? Guide me, 
 lead me, B-B-Brother Sanders." 
 
 "Dearly beloved sister, do you honestly and truly re- 
 pent of your sins?" 
 
 "Oh, B-B-Brother Sanders, I c-can't stand it." Sally 
 caught his hand fast in hers. "He'p me, he'p me." 
 
 "Repent and believe and be baptized, that's all, that's 
 all," said Richard. 
 
 "But I don't know how, but I don't know how. You 
 mus' tell me. You must set right down an' tell me now. 
 Now is de 'cepted time." 
 
 Richard glanced around, the Williamses were waiting 
 impatiently, and scorn was on their faces. "Sister, I 
 must go now, but I will call and instruct you." 
 
 "No, no," sobbed Sally, "my folks ain't nuthin' but 
 Methodists. I must come hyeer. I'm comin' to preachin'
 
 White and Black 
 
 to-night. You are g-g-gwine to preach agin to-night, 
 ain't you, Brother Sanders?" 
 
 "Yes, and perhaps after services to-night " 
 
 "Oh, kin I wait, oh, kin I wait till den? Don't, 
 don't fail me, Brother Sanders. I don't know whut I 
 would do if you wuz to fail me. Oh, my heart, how it 
 hurts me ! I been sich a sinner !" 
 
 "I won't fail you, I won't fail you, my sister," said 
 Richard, patting her shoulder. 
 
 "I kin set hyeer a while and think about my sins, 
 can't I, how I'm lost and ruint widout you, widout yo' 
 he'p, B-Brother Sanders?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, my sister." 
 
 "I don't speck I'll leave hyeer, till you come back, 
 Brother Sanders." 
 
 "Well, I'll hurry back to comfort and console you. 
 Good-by, now." 
 
 "G-G-Good-by, Brother Sanders." 
 
 When Richard rejoined the Williamses, he said to 
 Joe, "Many crowded around me to congratulate me, 
 but my message seems truly to have found lodgment in 
 the heart of Sister Sally Ramsey. She is deeply peni- 
 tent, and I really think it is my duty to stay here with 
 her." 
 
 "Naw, naw, Brother Sanders, you better leave her by 
 herse'f for a while now," said Joe, restraining himself 
 as best he could from some blasphemous utterance. 
 
 Malviny and the girls did not try to restrain themselves 
 from audible sniffs of scorn as they cast contemptuous 
 glances in the direction of Sally. But that guileful peni- 
 tent's face was buried in her handkerchief, and her 
 shoulders jerked convulsively with sobs of contrition.
 
 216 White and Black 
 
 After the snack had been disposed of at Joe's house, 
 he said, "Brother Sanders, come wid me to de front 
 room. I wants to talk wid you whilst Malviny an' de 
 gals cleans up de dishes." 
 
 In the front room Richard asked, "What is it, Brother 
 Williams? I really think I ought to hurry back to the 
 church to instruct Sister Sally Ramsey, who is there 
 alone struggling with the powers of darkness." 
 
 "Naw> .it's best to let her struggle," said Joe. "We 
 looks to you, Brother Sanders, all of us looks to you. 
 An' we wants to know whut is we gwine to do 'bout all 
 dese hyeer things." 
 
 "What things, Brother Williams?" 
 
 "Dese lynchin's an' things like dat. And I hyears 
 dat de Ku Kluxes is a-thinkin' 'bout comin' up hyeer, 
 too." 
 
 "Well, in regard to the lynchings, I say, as I have 
 said, that there is nothing to do except to behave our- 
 selves. We can't do anything, and whatever we try to 
 do in the way of revenge will come back on us. We are 
 weak, Brother Williams, we are weak, and the white 
 folks are strong. The Israelites were in bondage in 
 Egypt till the good Lord saw fit to deliver them." 
 
 "Yaas, Brother Sanders, but is we Israelites?" 
 
 "Perhaps not exactly, but the Lord will guard his 
 own. Brother Ulysses Mulberry was a scoffer and a 
 scorner, anyway, but you, for example, are in no dan- 
 ger of being lynched." 
 
 "But didn't dey come mighty nigh to gittin' you and 
 Brother Higgins?" 
 
 "Yes, but the Lord was with us." 
 
 "Yaas, I reckon dat's so, but from all I kin hyear,
 
 White and Black 217 
 
 if it hadn't ha' been for Mr. Will, dey would've got 
 you." 
 
 "He was the instrument of the Lord," answered Rich- 
 ard, "but what our people must do, is to live better lives, 
 learn more, and increase their possessions." 
 
 "You sho' is a sly one, Brother Sanders." 
 
 "What do you mean by that?" 
 
 "Dey ain't gwine to ketch you nappin' on no part of 
 de ground." 
 
 "But I'm honest and sincere in what I say," answered 
 Richard. 
 
 "Of c'ose, of c'ose, Brother Sanders, but whut about 
 de Ku Kluxes if dey comes?" 
 
 "The same thing, let us behave ourselves !" said Rich- 
 ard, looking about restlessly as if anxious to leave. 
 
 "Hold on, wait, Brother Sanders, does you reckon 
 dey gwine to treat dese white folks hyeer de same way 
 dey been a-treatin' 'em in other places?" 
 
 "They say they are going to make everybody keep to 
 his own color," answered Richard. 
 
 "Dat's right, dat's right, but kin dey do it, Brother 
 Sanders?" 
 
 "Can you keep a secret, Brother Williams?" 
 
 "Yaas, yaas," answered Joe eagerly. 
 
 "No, they can't do it." 
 
 "Why can't dey?" 
 
 "All history is against them." 
 
 "How's dat?" 
 
 "Where two races continue to live side by side in 
 the same country, either the less numerous race is swept 
 aside and dies out, like the Indians, or it is absorbed, 
 it is amalgamated with the other, like the Spaniards in 
 Mexico."
 
 21 8 White and Black 
 
 "How you mean 'malgamated ?" 
 
 "They mix and they mix till finally there is nothing 
 left but the mixture." 
 
 "But white folks and niggers ain't never gwine to 
 mix in no sich way as dat." 
 
 "They have pretty well done it already in some Cen- 
 tral and South American countries," answered Richard. 
 
 "But if dey keeps on a-lynchin' us " 
 
 "Lynchings can't stop anything, they never have. And 
 besides, they are not going to keep on lynching them- 
 selves, for that would be foolish. And the main bulk 
 of the amalgamation, if it ever comes, will be brought 
 about, so the authorities say, through our women. This 
 will happen unless we can arouse a pride of race in our- 
 selves to match the pride of race that the white folks 
 have. If our women thought it as shameful to have 
 mulatto children as white women now do, then the races 
 might be kept separate and distinct. But there is great 
 danger in preaching racial pride, because it is so likely 
 to increase racial hostility, and that should certainly be 
 avoided if possible." 
 
 "I don't know," said Joe, "'bout all of dat, but it 
 looks to me like if de white men didn't bother de col- 
 ored women an' de colored men didn't pester de white 
 women, we could all git along all right. An' dat's whut 
 I'm in favor of doin'." 
 
 "You are right, Brother Williams, and that's the way 
 of peace. But there will always be white men who will 
 run with our women, and some of our women will al- 
 ways be proud to run with white men." 
 
 "If any of my women folks ever do it, I'll beat 'em 
 mighty nigh to death, an' dey know it," said Joe.
 
 White and Black 219 
 
 "And as a rule our colored men would rather marry 
 the lightest-skinned mulatto women they can find." 
 
 "Not me," said Joe, "you see Malviny." 
 
 "Yes, but I'm talking about the rule. We are trying 
 to get away, most of us, from the black all of the time." 
 
 "De Lord made me black. Black I is, an' black I wants 
 to stay," said Joe. 
 
 "It would be easier for us if we were all that way," 
 answered Richard, "but black is a badge of contumely 
 everywhere. Whatever we do, whatever we think, what- 
 ever we feel, whatever we know, still we are black, and 
 so are objects of scorn to every white man, however 
 ignorant or learned he may be." 
 
 "Of c'ose we ain't as good as white folks," said Joe. 
 
 "Perhaps not," answered Richard. "But I must be 
 going, Brother Williams. Tell the ladies good-by for 
 me and thank them for the repast." 
 
 "Don't rush off, Brother Sanders, I'm sho' Lucindy 
 wants to talk wid you some." 
 
 "No, I'll have to be going." He picked up his hat 
 from a chair. 
 
 "But lem'me ax you dis, Brother Sanders. You is 
 a-workin' to make us better Christians an' de white preach- 
 ers is a workin' to make de white folks better Christians, 
 an' if you does any good an' dey does any good, ain't 
 it boun' to be so, dat white and black will git further 
 an' further apart, 'cause dey can't marry one another, 
 an' dey ain't no other way but a sinful way ?" 
 
 After a moment of hesitation, Richard answered, 
 "Yes, that's so, Brother Williams, that's so. I hadn't 
 thought of that." 
 
 On his way back to the church, he kept saying to him-
 
 22O White and Black 
 
 self, "It's funny I hadn't thought of that. What have 
 I not suffered on account of being black? And yet my 
 efforts, so far as they are good and so far as they are 
 successful, will result in helping forever to keep black 
 black, and white white. Unless unless that law against 
 intermarriage is repealed, and it won't be repealed, and 
 nobody, black or white, would dare to advocate its re- 
 peal. And even the colored folks don't want everybody 
 to become colored. What each one of them that thinks, 
 really wants, is to be white, white, white! Oh, God! 
 if I were only white ! It is a wonder to me that any 
 of us are Christians, that we can love a God that has 
 made us black ! 
 
 "What can I preach? What must I preach? I can 
 preach only that we must make black honorable by 
 greater sobriety, greater fortitude, greater virtue, but 
 what's the use? I know it never will be done. The 
 shadow of God's anger and hatred has been stamped 
 upon our faces. No, no, that can't be ! But it is better 
 that God should have brought us here even through the 
 bitter waters of scorn and slavery than to have left us 
 to be naked savages in the jungles of Africa! 
 
 "The question I must keep before myself is, How can 
 I best serve my people? And so far as I can see, it is 
 to show them the road to greater economic freedom, and 
 that road is the way of the Gospel, it is the way of mutual 
 helpfulness, forbearance, endurance. Oh, God, if only 
 I were white !" 
 
 When he entered the church, he saw that Sally was 
 not in the place where he had left her, but looking around, 
 he discovered her on one of the front benches at the 
 side of the pulpit. She was leaning over with her face
 
 White and Black 221 
 
 buried in her hands. "How is it with you now, Sister 
 Sally?" he asked. 
 
 "Oh, I had to come up hyeer to de mou'ners' bench, 
 Brother Sanders, I can't do nuthin' but mou'n an' mou'n." 
 
 "I will pray with you, Sister Sally." 
 
 "No, not now, not yit," said Sally. "I ain't ready yit. 
 I mus' mou'n an' mou'n. I been sich a powerful bad 
 sinner, I can't do nuthin' but mou'n, mou'n." 
 
 "But surely I can help you." 
 
 "No, Brother Sanders, but maybe to-night after de 
 preachin' is over, maybe den I know I got to hyear 
 you preach agin." 
 
 It was growing dusk. Other members of the congre- 
 gation began to file in. Richard went to the door to 
 welcome them, and then lit the lamps, which were 
 fastened along the walls and behind the pulpit. 
 
 After the services which included a special prayer for 
 the repentant sister, Sally stubbornly declined consola- 
 tion from all of the volunteers, and declared that she 
 must talk with Brother Sanders, that he alone could guide 
 her. When the others had gone, she said, with tears in 
 her eyes, "De folks at home will be a wonderin' where 
 I is, Brother Sanders. An' I'm skeered to go home by 
 myse'f. Would it be too much trouble for you to walk 
 home wid me an' lem' me talk to you on de way?" 
 
 "No, certainly not. As soon as I put out the lights 
 and close the church, I will go with you." 
 
 It was dark. They walked some distance in silence* 
 "Well," said Richard, "what is your special trouble, 
 Sister Sally?" 
 
 "Hoi' my hand, please, Brother Sanders, it's so dark 
 an' I done cried so much, I can't see where I'm a-step- 
 pin'." .
 
 222 White and Black 
 
 Richard took her hand, and they walked on. 
 
 "Oh, Brother Sanders, I'm so weak I'm 'bleeged to 
 set down a minute. Will you go back or will you stay 
 wid me?" 
 
 "I will stay with you, Sister Sally." 
 
 "Den set down hyeer by de side of me, an' lem' me 
 tell you," she nestled up close to him, "an' lem' me 
 tell you, don't nobody keer nuthin' about me, Brother 
 Sanders. An' dey all cast me off, till I hyeared you 
 preach. An' den I say dere is a man whut's got a heart 
 in him. He'll keer somep'n about me if I is a sinner." 
 
 "Yes, yes, Sister Sally." 
 
 "An' I felt like I want to put my head on yo' breas' 
 an' my arms around yo' neck, an' say take me, take me, 
 Brother Sanders, if I is a po' sinner, take me an' show 
 me de way." 
 
 Sally suited her actions to her words. She threw her 
 arms around Richard's neck, and rested her head on his 
 breast, murmuring, "Take me, take me, Brother Sanders, 
 if I is a po' sinner. Oh, I is sich a sinner, oh, Brother 
 Sanders " 
 
 Afterwards, when Richard had conducted Sally to 
 her front gate and left her, she said to herself, "Hunh! 
 Cindy an' Lucindy thinks dey is so smart!" 
 
 Richard, on his way back home, kept repeating to him- 
 self, "Yes, but even David had his Bathsheba."
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THERE was no formal celebration of the Fourth in Comp- 
 ton. During the War and the two following years more 
 attention had been paid to that holiday than at any time 
 since the Civil War, but the town was perhaps relapsing 
 into its former apathy, or it may have been that the 
 lynching had something to do with the lack of interest. 
 
 The bank and some of the stores were closed for the 
 day, and the post-office was run on half time. A few 
 families went on picnics at near-by places along the creek 
 bank, but the women, especially, felt little inclination to 
 go far into the woods. The feeling of unrest or un- 
 easiness had not wholly vanished from the community. 
 
 Brother Maxcy utilized the day by driving in his buggy 
 from house to house collecting a sum of money for Susie 
 Senter. On the morning of Tuesday, the fifth, he drove 
 out to the old Benton place, and delivered a hundred 
 dollars to Mr. Robertson, saying, "Will, would you mind 
 giving this money to Susie ? It might be that she would 
 not like to see me, as I am pretty nearly a stranger to 
 her. And yet I think I ought to go along, since it may 
 be that she will see me, and I may be able to comfort 
 her. All of us thought that if we could raise some money 
 for her, she might be able to take a little trip, which 
 would be good for her." 
 
 "Of course, I'll be glad to go," said Mr. Robertson, 
 "Mamie and I would have gone before now, but Dr. 
 Anderson said it would be best to wait a while." 
 
 "Yes, but he told me this morning it would be all 
 
 223
 
 224 White and Black 
 
 right for you and me to go to-day. But, oddly, he said 
 he thought his patient could not yet bear to see any of 
 the ladies, else my wife would be with me." 
 
 "Do you suppose it would be well for us to take Bob ?" 
 
 "No, no, I think not," said Brother Maxcy. "I know 
 she couldn't bear to see Bob." 
 
 "Well, we will drive in your buggy, then, on the road 
 that leads through the farms by Uncle Peter's house. 
 The bridges are too weak for the automobile." 
 
 On the way Brother Maxcy asked, "Will, did you ever 
 think how attractive this country is with its alternation 
 of hill and valley, of cleared field and native forest, of 
 farm and pasture? I remember especially how lovely 
 it seemed to me this spring, and look at it now." 
 
 They were on top of a high hill, and Mr. Robertson, 
 looking around on all sides, said, "Yes, I have thought 
 often of its beauty, but I had a notion that possibly I 
 was biased in its favor because I loved it so." 
 
 "And yet I have heard that you think of leaving it." 
 
 "Yes, I have a good offer to go to the City as cotton 
 buyer for the firm of Green & Porter, and I have been 
 considering it." 
 
 "Will, do you know that you are the best loved, man 
 in this community best loved by both white and black?" 
 
 "No, I would say you are that, Brother Maxcy." 
 
 "No, I am a stranger, an interloper, and at best I can 
 not stay here longer than two years more, and then I am 
 a preacher. But you are one of them, flesh of their 
 flesh, bone of their bone. And a man can not lightly 
 cast aside such a treasure of human love. It entails an 
 obligation." 
 
 "But, Brother Maxcy, I I think you overestimate
 
 White and Black 225 
 
 what they feel for me, and and I owe an obligation to 
 Mamie and Bob, and and, yes, to myself." 
 
 "Let's look at it, Will. The most that you are likely 
 to accomplish in the City is to become a member of the 
 firm, which will be more or less a sinking of your iden- 
 tity. Your individuality will in a measure be lost. You 
 don't care enough for money, thank God, ever to become 
 largely rich, and you will merely be one of many, all 
 pretty much alike and all tending to become more and 
 "more alike as the years go by." 
 
 "Well, there may be something in that." 
 
 "Yes, there's a great deal in that. In the City your 
 light will be hid under a bushel and it will become dimmer 
 and dimmer; here it will be on a hill-top, and it may 
 become brighter and brighter." 
 
 "Thank you for that, Brother Maxcy, but what about 
 Bob? Here with all of these nigger girls and women 
 about, he is constantly subject to a temptation that may 
 result in his becoming another Mr. Hiram or even a 
 Randy Shallow." 
 
 "No, no, he can't escape temptations of that kind by 
 going to the City. Temptations here and there must 
 be faced and overcome. And then shall we leave this 
 country that you say you love, to the Randy Shallows?" 
 
 "But then, Brother Maxcy, I haven't made any money 
 here for five years, and the farming grows less and 
 less profitable every year." 
 
 "I have thought of that. I have seen it. I have 
 looked about, and almost the only people who have made 
 any money have made it from cattle. Prices are low 
 now, but such is the best time to get into that business. 
 I hear that John Ramsey is going to leave you at the
 
 226 White and Black 
 
 end of this year, anyway. Why wouldn't it be a good 
 idea for you to transfer Sim Senter to your home place 
 and Joe Williams to the lower place ? Farm for a while 
 on the lower place as you have been doing, and make a 
 cattle ranch of the home place. Get good stock. Sim 
 Senter and his boys could raise a feed crop, and you 
 and they could manage the cattle. And Bob likes cat- 
 tle. Let him go on to college, and if, when he comes 
 back, he wants to stay here, perhaps you will have a 
 business that he will be proud to stay with. If not, 
 why, then let him make his own choice. Had you ever 
 thought, Will, what a great service it would be to show 
 the people here a way to economic freedom? And they 
 are your people, they love you." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know, Brother Maxcy. It would take 
 a lot of money to make the change, to buy the cattle 
 and so on." 
 
 "But you could raise that money, couldn't you, Will?" 
 "Oh, I suppose I could raise it, but money is mighty 
 hard to raise now, and I'd have to mortgage something 
 I had intended never to mortgage." 
 
 "And then, Will, look at it from the side of morals 
 and religion." 
 
 "It seems almost hopeless from that side." 
 "No, no, by no means. Of course you know and I 
 know that neither you nor I nor any other man or woman 
 will make it perfect. But any of us can make it bet- 
 ter. We can help some. And you more than any other 
 man here. Improvement is bound to be a growth, and 
 though my metaphor is mixed, it is spread from the 
 contagion of example. Dr. Anderson, you know, is a 
 good enough physician for any city, but he stays here
 
 White and Black 227 
 
 because he likes the freedom of the country and be- 
 cause he likes to hunt and fish. Can you not stay here 
 because you love the place and the people, and because 
 the people love you? Oh, Will, I swear to you that 
 the greatest satisfaction you will ever get in this life 
 will come from that love. And I implore you not to 
 throw it away." 
 
 Brother Maxcy paused to wipe his eyes, and then con- 
 tinued, "I k&ow I am intruding into your private af- 
 fairs, but but I know you know I wouldn't do it if I 
 didn't love you. And then we are likely to have more 
 trouble than ever here. The Ku Klux Klan is setting 
 about the organization of a branch here. They actually 
 approached me yesterday, and what do you suppose? 
 They told me that the Baptist minister had agreed to 
 join! I don't understand that unless it is because the 
 organization is opposed to the Catholics, as well as to 
 the Jews and the niggers. But however that may be, 
 it is certain to stir up bitterer feeling among our peo- 
 ple and lead to new outrages of many kinds. And we 
 can't spare you, Will. We need your counsel and ex- 
 ample. Don't answer me. Don't say anything now. 
 Think the question over." In a changed voice he said, 
 "Here we are at Sim Senter's, anyway." 
 
 Sim met them at the door, "Howdy, Mr. Will! 
 Howdy, Mr. Maxcy!" There was a look of interroga- 
 tion in his eye. 
 
 "Sim," said Mr. Robertson, "we have brought her 
 something. Would she like to see us, do you think?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Sim, trying to swallow his tears, 
 "maybe, maybe you, Mr. Will, but but " 
 
 "Hardly me," said Brother Maxcy. "I know, I under-
 
 228 White and Black 
 
 stand, I'm a stranger to her. I I I'm the representa- 
 tive of my God, and and I'm a stranger to all of you 
 here." 
 
 "Well, Parson," began Sim apologetically, "you know, 
 we never have been much in the way of church-goers, 
 and and " 
 
 "Oh, don't apologize to me," said Brother Maxcy, 
 "it's my fault, I I could go down on my knees to beg 
 your forgiveness. I I have never come near you 
 
 "Maybe you better go in, Sim, and ask her," said Mr. 
 Robertson. 
 
 "Naw, Mr. Will, you come on and let Mr. Maxcy 
 set hyeer on the po'ch, and maybe, later " 
 
 "All right," said Mr. Robertson, "lead the way, Sim." 
 
 When they came to the room where Susie was, Sim 
 said, "Hyeer's Mr. Will, honey, come to see you. He 
 says he hyeard you wuz sick an' he come to bring you 
 somethin'." 
 
 "Oh, Bob, Bob's not hyeer, not Bob," cried Susie, 
 covering her face with her hands and turning to the 
 wall. 
 
 "No, honey, Bob's not hyeer." 
 
 "And Miss Mamie, not, not Miss Mamie?" 
 
 "No, honey, they ain't nobody, but jes' Mr. Will." 
 
 "I I came to bring you a little present, Susie," said 
 Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Thank thank you, Mr. Will," she said without un- 
 covering her face. 
 
 "Don't you want to know what it is, Susie? It is 
 a nice present." 
 
 "What is it, Mr. Will?" 
 
 "It is a whole hundred dollars, so you can take a nice 
 trip somewhere as soon as you get better."
 
 White and Black 229 
 
 "A whole hundred dollars for me, for me!" she ex- 
 claimed, taking her hands from her face and raising her 
 head. But only for a moment was there joy on her 
 countenance. Listlessly her head dropped back and her 
 hands fell on the cover, "No, Mr. Will, 'tain't no use," 
 she said. 
 
 "But look at it, Susie. See, it is a great big roll of 
 bills. There, I'm putting it in your hand. Feel it. All 
 that money is for you. And you can go to the City, any- 
 -where you want to go, and get well and strong again. 
 There, take it, close your hand on it." 
 
 "Th-thank you, Mr. Will, but 'taint no use. Can't 
 nuthin' do me no good now, Mr. Will, an' an' I've done 
 cried myself out, Mr. Will. I I can't cry no mo'. 
 An' you're cryin', Mr. Will, an' I can't cry no mo'. Ain't 
 it funny? It looks like I'm the one that ought to be 
 cryin'." 
 
 "But, honey, you can take this, and we'll add a lot 
 more to it, and you can go far, far way, and stay till, 
 till you get well, till you want to come back." 
 
 "No, I don't want to go anywhere." 
 
 "Not to the City? Miss Mamie will go to the City 
 with you and you can go to shows and everything and 
 have some pretty new clothes and everything." 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Will, I I couldn't a-bear that. I 
 couldn't a-bear for Miss Mamie to see me. I jes' want 
 to stay hyeer with Mama and Papa and the chillun. 
 You won't mind, Mr. Will, if I jes' stay hyeer, will 
 you?" 
 
 "No, honey, I won't mind, but " 
 
 "S'pose I wuz to go somewhere, and Bob wuz to see 
 me, s'pose them town women wuz to see me, I I'd die, 
 Mr. Will."
 
 230 White and Black 
 
 "No, no, they'd love you, Susie, they'd be kind to you, 
 they'd love you " 
 
 "Ai-ee! ai-ee!" screamed Susie. "Oh, Harry. Oh, 
 Papa!" 
 
 "Catch her arm there quick, Mr. Will," said Sim, as 
 he grasped her other arm. "She tries to fling herself 
 out of the bed. She's been havin' these spells ever since 
 she came to, Friday evenin', but she didn't have none 
 last night and to-day till now." 
 
 Mrs. Senter came into the room. "What air we goin' 
 to do, Mr. Will? What air we goin' to do?" she en- 
 treated. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know! I don't know. But she must 
 have no more company. She must not be excited. I'll 
 take the children to my house and keep them for you. 
 Let Harry hitch up the wagon this evening and bring 
 'em over. You and Sim must be spared to watch in 
 here. Is there any white woman we can get to cook for 
 you? I would send Cindy, but Susie might not by any 
 possibility want to see a black face." 
 
 "Waal, I don't know, suh, maybe " 
 
 "Get some fresh water now and sponge Susie's face 
 with it; keep on, till she comes to. I want to speak to 
 Brother Maxcy." 
 
 Out on the porch he said, "Brother Maxcy, what white 
 woman do you think we could get to stay here a while 
 and relieve Mrs. Senter?" 
 
 "I know one and a mighty good one," answered 
 Brother Maxcy. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Mrs. Maxcy." 
 
 "Oh, this would be so hard and unpleasant for her." 
 
 "Well, sometimes she is hard on me and on sinners,"
 
 White and Black 231] 
 
 said Brother Maxcy, "but I've never yet heard of her 
 turning her back on people in distress." 
 
 "It would be lovely if she could come." 
 
 "She will be here this afternoon; I'll bring her." 
 
 "Well, Harry is to bring the children over to us, and 
 I must caution you. Sister Maxcy mustn't go into 
 Susie's room. Susie can't bear to see any strangers." 
 
 "I'll tell her. She will understand that," said Brother 
 Maxcy. "But how is Susie? I heard her screaming." 
 
 "I think it will be a miracle if she gets well and keeps 
 her mind," answered Mr. Robertson. And then he added 
 with a profound sigh, "After all, it might be better for 
 her never to get well." 
 
 For some time on the way home Brother Maxcy and 
 Mr. Robertson had little to say. Each was busy with 
 his own thoughts, Brother Maxcy's mind being occu- 
 pied mainly with formulating such a statement of the 
 Senters' situation to his wife that she would readily 
 understand the necessity of coming to their relief, and 
 Mr. Robertson was pondering the events of the past 
 week and his own connection therewith, and wondering 
 whether he could have guarded against them. But now 
 and then his thought would glance toward the future 
 with vague speculaton as to the outcome of it all. 
 
 Brother Maxcy's mind must have wandered somewhat, 
 too, for he interrupted a long silence to say, "Will, in 
 what I said about the Ku Klux I did not mean to con- 
 vey the idea that I thought it was a thing that would 
 last very long or that it was a matter of great impor- 
 tance. It is unreasonable to believe that our people will 
 not soon recognize the misguided folly of trying to im- 
 prove folks morally by unlawful deeds of violence." 
 
 "Yes, I understood," answered Mr. Robertson. "I
 
 232 White and Black 
 
 think also that it is a temporary complication that will 
 soon pass. Or it may be that it will come out in the 
 open at last, and really act as a helpful influence in the 
 enforcement of the law and the determination of the 
 right relations between the races. I think it would be 
 a fine idea to have a non-partizan, non-sectarian organ- 
 ization of men who are really interested in the enforce- 
 ment of the law through the regularly elected officers 
 and in the promotion of racial purity and the uplift of 
 both races. But membership in the organization should 
 not be secret or exclusive. And it should encourage its 
 members to study the race question, and should award 
 substantial prizes for the best suggestions looking toward 
 its solution. It seems to me that a world of good might 
 be accomplished in such a way. The main trouble with 
 us all now, I think, is that we don't know what to do. 
 And it is characteristic of ignorance, whenever it acts, 
 to flare into violence." 
 
 "Spoken like a statesman and a Christian !" exclaimed 
 Brother Maxcy. "I would be one of the first to join 
 such an organization." 
 
 "I, too, should like to be a member," said Mr. Robert- 
 son. "But, oh, dear me, poor little Susie !" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Brother Maxcy, "her case is such 
 a frightfully concrete thing." 
 
 "It is too horrible to think of," said Mr. Robertson, 
 "and yet we can not get it out of our minds, and we 
 feel that we ought not to get it out. We ought to go 
 on thinking about it until we find some way to prevent 
 such things." 
 
 The preacher in Brother Maxcy spoke, "The grace of 
 God through the Lord Jesus Christ is the only and suf- 
 ficient remedy."
 
 White and Black 233 
 
 "I say it respectfully, reverently," answered Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, "but this has happened in spite of your remedy." 
 
 "Oh, we are all so weak and frail and futile, dull of 
 understanding and hard of heart, why can we not, why 
 will we not, accept the teachings of our Saviour?" 
 
 "That is bigger than the race question," said Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, "and you know as much about it as I do, or per- 
 haps far more." 
 
 "Yes, pardon me," said Brother Maxcy, "I realize 
 that it sounds like the merest cant." 
 
 "No, no, I didn't mean that, Brother Maxcy, but 
 time and again I go over in my mind this question, What 
 if Susie's assailant had been white? What then? The 
 answer is, so far as I can unravel it, that he, too, would 
 probably have been lynched, but not so certainly, and 
 at any rate not with such violence of fury. And then 
 I think further, that if it were discovered here that 
 a nigger was living with a white woman with her con- 
 sent, he would probably be lynched, almost certainly 
 would be, while a white man may live openly with a 
 nigger woman under the penalty only of moral reproba- 
 tion and a certain degree of social ostracism. What we 
 seem most bent on doing is the preventing of racial 
 contamination through our women. And that we will 
 prevent at all hazards. And I confess that it goes might- 
 ily against my grain to stand up for the orderly proc- 
 esses of the law in such cases." 
 
 "Let's be honest about the thing, and go further," said 
 Brother Maxcy; "if a white man should outrage a nigger 
 woman, he almost certainly would not be lynched. He 
 would certainly not, or in all probability not, be lynched 
 by white men. And if niggers should attempt to lynch
 
 234 White and Black 
 
 him, he would almost as certainly be defended by other 
 white men." 
 
 "Yes, that's so," said Mr. Robertson, "one reason being 
 that few would believe an outrage had really been com- 
 mitted, and another being that we can not have niggers 
 lynching white men. That we can not permit. We feel 
 that white supremacy must be maintained, or that we 
 shall all be engulfed in a sea of black. But I suppose 
 it is as in nearly everything else; we make a concession 
 to the passions of the dominant men. Yet I declare to 
 you that personally I would not have put myself out so 
 much to save from the fury of a mob a white assailant 
 of Susie Senter as I did to save from it Ulysses Mul- 
 berry. But perhaps it is because I feel that we have 
 a right to expect better self-control from a white man 
 than from a nigger, and of course I felt sure that the 
 law would adequately punish Ulysses if he were really 
 guilty. There might be one chance in a thousand for a 
 white man to escape just punishment for such a crime 
 against a white woman, but practically none for a nigger." 
 
 "But did you ever hear, Will, of a nigger man lynched 
 or executed for the rape of a nigger woman?" 
 
 "No, I never did. I think I'll ask Judge Mowry some 
 time if there have been such cases. But I was just 
 thinking. You know, three or four years ago, we were 
 protesting mightily against the migration of the niggers 
 to the North. Well, that may have been the best thing. 
 The solution of the question may lie in scattering them 
 all over the country instead of having them congested 
 in one section." 
 
 "Well, after all," said Brother Maxcy, "the revival 
 of the Ku Klux Klan is in the main a protest against 
 the amalgamation of the races. We can't keep from
 
 White and Black 235 
 
 sympathizing with that aim, although we look with horror 
 and detestation upon the outrages perpetrated by them 
 in trying to carry it out." 
 
 "Yes, and all the more so," said Mr. Robertson, "be- 
 cause we know that such methods are bound to result in 
 the spread of anarchy in every direction. If unchecked^ 
 they will make of our America, the land of the free, in 
 reality a land of hidden tyranny and secret assassination. 
 Surely, surely, our people can not fall to that, either 
 through impatience with the law's administration, race 
 antagonism, or religious bigotry or through all three 
 combined ! Surely we have advanced beyond that. Did 
 it ever occur to you, Brother Maxcy, that maybe the 
 church hasn't done its part? That somehow we have 
 had a right to expect more of it than we have received?" 
 
 "Oh, Will, I have prayed and wept over that. Oh, 
 my God, the church is afraid. It cowers trembling be- 
 fore the power of Mammon, but it is not dead. Oh, 
 thank God, it is not dead! It will arise, it will gird 
 itself for the contest. It will cleanse itself, so that it may 
 indeed and in truth look up to God, not through vio- 
 lence, not through a mist of blood, but through the clear 
 ether of love and self-sacrifice !"
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE next day Mr. Robertson was surprised when he 
 went to town to find Henry Thompson sitting in the 
 front door of his store, he was so rarely there. And 
 still more was he surprised when Henry said, "Will, 
 would you mind coming to the back of the store? i 
 want to have a little talk with you." 
 
 When they were seated behind the bookkeeper's stand- 
 ing-desk, Henry began, "Will, you know about Mirandy. 
 Everybody does. I've been living with her. We have 
 got children." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "I've heard that the Ku Klux Klan is coming here. 
 And I'm skeered. In a way I'm skeered. What do you 
 think about it?" 
 
 "Well, Henry, I I hardly know. It is a delicate mat- 
 ter." 
 
 "Yes, it is delicate, all right, I reckon, but spit it out, 
 Will. I can stand it. You know I don't say much. I 
 never was much of a hand to talk, but I've listened a 
 lot." 
 
 "Well, Henry, I think you ought to stop living with 
 Mirandy." 
 
 "Oh, for that matter you think I ought never to have 
 begun." 
 
 "Yes, I think you ought never to have begun." 
 
 "But I did begin, it is not necessary to talk about 
 why, and I have kept on. Everybody, I know, looks 
 on me as a low down dog. And I reckon I am. But 
 
 236
 
 White and Black 237 
 
 wouldn't I be worse than that to cut loose from Mirandy 
 and turn her adrift now?" 
 
 "You could put her and the children on a farm some- 
 where, and help them along until they could take care of 
 themselves." 
 
 "And then everybody would say that I got skeered 
 of the Ku Klux and ducked for cover." 
 
 "Well, it wouldn't make so much difference what every- 
 body said, would it?" 
 
 "You mean they've said a plenty about me already 
 and I've stood it, knowing that I was wrong?" 
 
 "Henry, I don't want to " 
 
 "You don't want to hurt my feelings, you don't want 
 to act as a judge over me. I know that, but I'm asking 
 you. I'm bringing it on myself. Don't, don't push me 
 off, Will. It is all I can do to hold my courage up to 
 to ask you. You don't know how hard this is for me. 
 I I am a timid man, I've always been, oh, I don't 
 know " Henry wiped the tears from his cheek with 
 his bent forefinger and flipped the moisture to the floor. 
 
 "Henry, don't you think you could settle Mirandy and 
 the children on a farm, as I suggested?" 
 
 "No, no, Will, I couldn't. I've got to confess it. I 
 I I couldn't git along without Mirandy. I know what 
 you think I am, but but I couldn't." 
 
 "Well, then," said Mr. Robertson coldly, "the only 
 thing I see you can do, is to move to some other country 
 or to some other part of this one where intermarriages 
 are not forbidden, and there marry Mirandy. I don't 
 advise that, but I don't know what else you can do." 
 
 "No, Will, I don't know anything about them other 
 countries or them other people, and it's too late for me to 
 git used to 'em. I want to stay here."
 
 238 White and Black 
 
 "Well, if your mind is made up to stay here and to 
 keep on living with Mirandy, I don't see why you wanted 
 to ask me about it," said Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "But, Will, don't you see? I I jus' had to to tell 
 somebody all these years, and I I couldn't say a word, 
 it looks like" 
 
 "And now you want to talk to me because you are 
 scared ?" 
 
 "No, no, Will, it's not altogether that. I I've been 
 thinking believe me, it's not altogether that. I I've 
 been thinking a long time that that I ought to do some- 
 thing. I jus' haven't known what was was right to do." 
 
 "I've told you what I think is right for you to do," 
 said Mr. Robertson, "and I don't know anything else 
 to tell you." 
 
 "But, I can't do that, Will. Mirandy, if she is black, 
 has got some feelings, too. And and she has been 
 faithful to me, and I owe her something." 
 
 "Well, take her up North and marry her, then." 
 
 "But she don't want to go. She wants to stay here." 
 
 "I don't see how I can help you, Henry." 
 
 "No, I don't reckon you can. I reckon I was wanting 
 sympathy. I reckon I couldn't stand it no longer with- 
 out talking to somebody. Well, I've talked. And I 
 haven't got nothing. I don't deserve nothing, I reckon. 
 That's all right. If you can't do nothing for me, ain't 
 nobody else can. I don't hold it against you, Will. I 
 see I'll have to take keer of myself the best way I can. 
 But if anybody comes pestering around me, Ku Klux or 
 anybody else, somebody is going to git hurt. Bear that 
 in mind, Will, somebody's going to git hurt." 
 
 "Yes, I believe that, Henry. I hope nobody will bother
 
 White and Black 239 
 
 you. Will you let me say that I I think you have 
 have trouble enough as it is?" 
 
 "Great God! Will, if only I never had and and 
 I kinder drifted into and and I never could git over 
 it north, south, anywhere. There ain't no use, it will 
 stay with me always, follow me anywhere. And the 
 hell of it is that if I hadn't done it so openly " 
 
 "There, there, Henry, I'm sorry, but " 
 
 Randy Shallow's voice was heard from the front of 
 the store, "Mr. Hiram, is Henry here ? I want to see 
 him about them cattle." 
 
 "Yes, I think he is back there, talking to Mr. Will 
 Robertson," answered Mr. Hiram. 
 
 Randy came back. When he saw Henry and Mr. Rob- 
 ertson in such close conference, he said, "Well, Mr. 
 Will, I didn't know your credit was gittin' in such bad 
 shape as that," and laughed. 
 
 "Will's credit is better than yours'll ever be, Randy," 
 said Henry angrily. 
 
 "But what are you all broke up about, Henry?" coun- 
 tered Randy. "I don't smell no Ku Klux around here, 
 ha, ha, ha !" 
 
 "Shut your damn mouth!" exclaimed Henry. 
 
 "Did you want to see me?" asked Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "No, I wanted to see Henry about them cattle he was 
 talkin' about buyin' from me." 
 
 "I don't want none of your cattle," answered Henry, 
 "now or no other time." 
 
 "Hunh, I must ha' put my foot in it," said Randy. "I 
 didn't know you was skeered of the Ku Klux sho' 'miff, 
 ha, ha, ha!" 
 
 "Well, are you going, or ain't you?" asked Henry 
 threateningly.
 
 240 White and Black 
 
 "Oh, I'm a-goin', all right," answered Randy with a 
 grin, "but I'll probably see you again before long." 
 
 Henry looked at him, but said nothing. He sauntered 
 out of the store whistling between his teeth. 
 
 "And to think," said Henry, turning to Mr. Robert- 
 son, "he's a damn sight more respectable than I am, and 
 everybody knows he's got nigger chillun scattered all 
 over these hills around here. But acknowledge 'em and 
 take keer of 'em? No, he don't do that. If he was 
 to do that, he wouldn't be respectable at all." 
 
 "Well, you know, Henry, Shakespeare said, 'Assume 
 a virtue, if you have it not.' " 
 
 "And that's about as far as most of 'em in these 
 parts ever git," replied Henry. "If you was to strip 
 off all of the assumin' that's done around here, wouldn't 
 you have a pretty kittle of fish?" 
 
 "Well, I imagine the same thing is true pretty much 
 everywhere else," said Mr. Robertson. "If we all knew 
 the whole truth about everybody, and everybody knew 
 the whole truth about us, it might be too disheartening. 
 And there is a sort of agreement that we will respect the 
 other feller's pretenses, if he will respect ours." 
 
 "And that respecting is what makes respectability/' 
 said Henry. 
 
 "As distinguished from genuine goodness, yes but 
 there are genuinely good people, Henry." 
 
 "Yes, I reckon so," answered Henry, "anyhow we'll 
 let that pass. Anyway, I'm much obliged to you, Will. 
 Somehow I feel better. I reckon it helps a feller to 
 talk a thing out sometimes." 
 
 "Yes, it does," said Mr. Robertson, "but I'll have to 
 be going. I wanted to see Dr. Anderson this morning. 
 I hope you won't have any trouble, Henry."
 
 White and Black 241 
 
 "I'll take keer of myself, thank you, Will. But, by 
 the way, how do you feel about buying that little place 
 of mine over there by Uncle Peter's and the nigger 
 church that Mr. Hiram spoke to you about? You 
 needn't pay any cash at all. I'll take your note for the 
 whole thing, three or five years, what do you say?" 
 
 "Oh, I hardly know," said Mr. Robertson. "It's a 
 good trade all right. I'll think about it.' ' 
 
 On his way to the doctor's office Mr. Robertson met 
 Bob in front of the drug store. He asked, "Bob, have 
 you seen Mr. Deane this morning?" 
 
 "No, Papa." 
 
 "Well, when I first came to town, I saw him, and he 
 told me that Mrs. Deane was getting up a forty-two 
 party for the young folks to-morrow night, and he asked 
 me to tell you to be sure to come." 
 
 "No, Papa, I don't think they like me around there 
 any more." 
 
 "What makes you think that?" 
 
 "Oh, I just don't think they do," said Bob, confusedly. 
 
 "Well, you are wrong about that, because when I 
 asked Mr. Deane what girl you should bring, he kinder 
 laughed and said none, that they had a girl for you 
 there." 
 
 "Oh, did he?" asked Bob with some eagerness. 
 
 "He certainly did, and I can't conceive of any reason 
 why they shouldn't want you, or why you think they 
 don't." 
 
 "No, but I thought Mrs. Deane acted like she was mad 
 at me last Sunday. I was talking to Minnie, and Mrs. 
 Deane came and jerked her away like I was poison." 
 
 "Oh, that's all foolishness," said Mr. Robertson, "she 
 was just in a hurry to get home. And I hear that she
 
 242 White and Black 
 
 and Mr. Deane didn't like the sermon much. Among 
 other things they thought Brother Maxcy ought to have 
 let each of us decide for ourselves whether we were fit 
 to take the Sacrament or not." 
 
 "I'm glad he didn't," said Bob without thinking. 
 
 "Why?" asked Mr. Robertson suspiciously. 
 
 "Well well," answered Bob, "I don't know, but I 
 sorter think we wouldn't have felt right about taking 
 it, and yet we would have hated to make ourselves con- 
 spicuous by not taking it." 
 
 "I'm glad to know you've done some thinking about 
 it," said Mr. Robertson, "but you will go to the party?" 
 
 "Yes, Papa, I'll go," said Bob, turning away. 
 
 As his father walked toward Dr. Anderson's office, 
 Bob said to himself, "Gee! I had to come mighty close 
 to straight out lying. I've got to be more careful." 
 
 And his father was thinking, "Somehow there is a 
 change in Bob here lately, and it is not a change for the 
 better "
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 AT the party Thursday night, when all had been as- 
 signed to their respective tables for the domino game of 
 forty-two, Bob said to Minnie, who was his partner, 
 "I don't see Jasper, junior, here to-night. Where is he?" 
 
 "Oh, he went off this evening to hunt cattle with 
 Jerry, our married brother, and he hasn't come back 
 yet. I told him not to go, that he would be late, but he 
 said he had to go, and not to wait for him if he didn't 
 get back in time." 
 
 "Looks like he could have waited until to-morrow," 
 said Bob. 
 
 "Yes, that's what I thought," said Minnie, "but noth- 
 ing would do him except to go." 
 
 Bob began to shuffle the dominoes. Minnie joined in 
 so that her hand touched Bob's, and she looked at him 
 shyly, letting him know that the touch was not accidental. 
 Her eyes seemed to say, "See, I think you are worthy 
 to touch me." 
 
 Bob lifted his hand and laid it on hers. "Hunh! look 
 here, everybody," called Tom Parker, one of their op- 
 ponents in the game. "Bob and Minnie are playing 
 hands till we can't get a chance to play forty-two. Ha ! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 "We're not," declared Minnie, blushing furiously. 
 
 Bob stammered, "I I I" 
 
 All of the young people laughed uproariously, so that 
 Bob and Minnie had an uncomfortable five minutes. 
 
 243
 
 244 White and Black 
 
 At last Bob managed to say, "Come on, let's play the 
 game." 
 
 Tom, taking mercy on him, said, "All right," and the 
 game began. 
 
 The old folks regarded forty-two as proper, because 
 it was played with dominoes instead of cards, and the 
 young people liked it because it was really a card game, 
 though played with dominoes. Some facetious person 
 of the community called it Methodist poker, since it 
 was commonly regarded as allowable for even preach- 
 ers to play it. 
 
 Mrs. Deane walked about from table to table, offer- 
 ing suggestions to the less experienced players. And 
 Mr. Deane sat out on the front porch waiting for the 
 refreshments, which were to consist of ice cream, cakes, 
 and fruit punch. As the first game was finished, and 
 the players were in the act of progressing from one table 
 to another, Mrs. Deane's negro cook came rushing in, 
 her eyes almost bursting from their sockets, "Lawd, Miss 
 Miriam!" she cried, "de Ku Kluxes is hyeer! Dey 
 marchin' thoo de town. My boy, Billy, done tol' me. 
 Whut's we gwine to do?" 
 
 Mr. Deane hurried in from the porch, "What's that, 
 Nancy? What's all that foolishness?" 
 
 "Lawd, Mr. Jasper, de Ku Kluxes is a-marchin' thoo 
 de town right now. Hide me, hide me, white folks, 
 hide me !" 
 
 "Shut up!" said Mr. Deane, "go back to the kitchen. 
 The Ku Klux are not going to hurt you." 
 
 "Naw, suh, naw, suh, Mr. Jasper, please lem' me stay 
 in hyeer. Uh uh uh, Mr. Jasper " 
 
 "Well, stay in here then, I'm going to see about this." 
 
 "Let's all go see," said one of the boys. And before
 
 White and Black 245 
 
 Mrs. Deane could recover, to make effective objection, 
 the whole party rushed into the street, and headed for 
 the public square, laughing, but with a feeling of some- 
 thing like mysterious fear beneath the laughter. 
 
 They found Nancy's report to be true. Straight 
 through the town was marching a long line of men, in 
 single file, and swathed in white from head to toe. In 
 the lead was a rider on horseback, bearing a flaming 
 cross. Behind him walked a white-robed pedestrian car- 
 rying an American flag, and then came the others afoot, 
 some with torches that illuminated placards borne by 
 their companions. The placards read, "America 100% 
 American," "Boot-Leggers Hunt Your Holes," "Hypo- 
 crites Beware," "The White Man On Top Forever," 
 "We Want No Mulatto Babies," "Niggers Mind Your 
 Step." 
 
 Silently the procession wound its length along, and 
 silently the spectators watched in an open-mouthed hush. 
 When the last of the spectral marchers had disappeared, 
 the weird stillness was broken by a babble of whisper- 
 ing voices. "Who were they?" "Where did they come 
 from?" "I recognized that high feller with the stoop." 
 "Did you read those placards ?" "Well, I never!" 
 "What do you reckon they are going to do?" "Some 
 folks had better look out." "How did all these people 
 get together so quick?" 
 
 Indeed, it did seem that all of the inhabitants of the 
 town were gathered as spectators, but it was a greater 
 wonder still how there could be so many of the Ku Klux, 
 variously estimated from one to five hundred by the 
 amazed on-lookers. 
 
 "Fools!" said Mr. Deane, "they'll git the niggers all 
 stirred up and restless, so's they'll work even less than
 
 246 White and Black 
 
 usual. Well, I'm glad that I have raised my boys with 
 too much sense to fall in with anything like that." 
 
 As the young people went back to the Deane home, 
 they were agitated by many different feelings. Tom 
 Parker was thinking, "I wonder if I couldn't get into 
 that gang, even if my pa is sheriff. I don't see why I 
 couldn't get in as well as some of the other fellers." 
 
 One of the girls, blushing and giggling, whispered to 
 Minnie, "Did you see that placard, 'We Want No Mulatto 
 Babies'?" 
 
 "Yes," said Minnie, "wasn't it awful? They ought 
 not to allow such things. They ought to be ashamed." 
 
 "That's what they say," whispered the other girl, gig- 
 gling even more immoderately, "they're not going to 
 allow 'em." 
 
 "Smarty!" said Minnie, "hush up. They'll be asking 
 us what we are giggling at." 
 
 "Anh anh anh, what are you girls giggling at?" 
 jeered little Willie Deane. 
 
 "Nothing," answered Minnie. 
 
 "Oh, but I know," said Willie. 
 
 "Shucks! you don't know anything," answered the 
 girl. 
 
 "Never mind," retorted Willie, "I know what I know, 
 all right yanh yanh yanh !" 
 
 Much to his dismay, Bob found himself in the re- 
 turning throng side by side with Mr. Deane, who asked, 
 "Well, Bob, what did you think of it?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir," said Bob. 
 
 "Well, I think they are all powerful big fools. How 
 would you like to be one of 'em, hey?" 
 
 "I wouldn't like to be," said Bob.
 
 White and Black 247 
 
 "Some of you young fellers around here had better 
 mind your step, hey?" 
 
 "Yes, sir, I expect they had." 
 
 "Well, I don't want you or any of my boys to go play 
 the fool and join in with that gang." 
 
 "No, sir, we are not going to," answered Bob, and 
 deftly managed to get some of the others between him 
 and Mr. Deane, and to rejoin Minnie. 
 
 "Wasn't it awful, Bob?" she said. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," answered Bob, "it wasn't much 
 to get excited about." 
 
 "It wasn't! Why, I'm just trembling all over." 
 
 "Just some ordinary fellers around here with sheets 
 on 'em," said Bob. 
 
 "But what do you reckon they are going to do?" 
 
 "Scare some niggers, I reckon." 
 
 "Well, there are some white folks that will be scared, 
 too, I expect." 
 
 "Shucks !" said Bob, "I'd like to know who'd be scared 
 of that gang." 
 
 Jared Peters overheard Bob's last remark, and said 
 mockingly, "Oh, Bob's so brave, ain't he? He ain't 
 skeered of nothing." 
 
 "Well, are you scared, Jared?" asked Bob. "If you 
 are, stand out there and let me hear your teeth chatter." 
 
 "Hunh ! I know somebody whose teeth better be chat- 
 tering," retorted Jared. 
 
 "Who is that?" demanded Bob hardily. 
 
 "Well, never mind, them fellers mean business. They 
 ain't goin' to stand any foolishness." 
 
 "How do you know so much about 'em?" 
 
 "Well, never mind, I know all about 'em."
 
 248 White and Black 
 
 "Maybe Jared has been listening somewhere," said 
 Minnie, and after a slight pause added, "as usual." 
 
 "Well, if you'd listen around, maybe you'd learn some- 
 thing, too," answered Jared, and snickered. 
 
 "There's one funny thing," said Minnie, "I didn't see 
 Mr. Tony Peters in the crowd of on-lookers, did you, 
 Bob?" 
 
 "No, I didn't see him anywhere," answered Bob. 
 
 "Oh, he was out of town to-night," declared Jared, 
 moving away. 
 
 "You know, I believe we've got one of 'em spotted," 
 said Minnie. 
 
 "Yes," said Bob, "and I'd like to know who would be 
 scared of Mr. Tony Peters except some nigger that owes 
 him money." 
 
 Then they reached the house. On their coming into 
 the light, the chatter became louder and more general. 
 All joined in giving Mrs. Deane a glowing, but con- 
 fused, account of the spectacle. Into the midst of the 
 babble came Jasper, junior, dressed in his every day 
 clothes. "What's all the row about?" he asked. 
 
 They vied with each other in going over again the de- 
 tails of the exhibition and in describing their feelings, 
 most of the girls representing themselves as being all 
 tremors and excitement, and most of the boys affecting 
 indifference and condescension. Jasper, junior, listened 
 with an expression of sly amusement, and egged the 
 others on. 
 
 "But my ! Jasper, junior, it took you and Jerry a long 
 time to attend to those cattle," finally said Mrs. Deane. 
 "You'd better go and put on your Sunday clothes." 
 
 "Well, we had to hunt a long time before we found 
 'em," said Jasper, junior, "and it was just our luck to
 
 White and Black 249 
 
 miss seeing the Ku Klux," but he smiled quizzically and 
 gesticulated with his left hand. Then he added, "I don't 
 see much use of dressing up now, it must be almost ten 
 o'clock." 
 
 "Why, so it is!" exclaimed Mrs. Deane. "I'll serve 
 the refreshments and we can talk. And if they want to 
 play a game or two afterwards, it will be all right." 
 
 "Minnie, how did Jasper, junior, lose his little finger? 
 It seems funny, but I never did hear," said Bob. 
 
 "Well, we had a rooster that crowed too much to 
 suit Jasper, junior, so one day he slipped up and caught 
 the rooster and was going to cut its head off with a 
 hatchet. He was holding it down on a block, and some 
 way the rooster twisted or something, and Jasper, junior, 
 cut off his own little finger, and let the rooster go. But 
 next day he shot it with a pistol." 
 
 While the refreshments were being eaten, Mrs. Deane 
 stood by Bob's table, and took occasion to say, "Well, 
 Bob, I haven't had a chance to talk to you to-night. But 
 what did you think about the Ku Klux ?" 
 
 "Well, I think they are a bad thing," said Bob. 
 
 "Oh, do you," asked Mrs. Deane, "and why?" 
 
 "Well, Papa says they are bound to cause trouble and 
 hard feeling and probably bloodshed." 
 
 "So that's what your Papa thinks, but I was wonder- 
 ing how you feel about 'em." 
 
 "Oh, I don't expect to have anything to do with 'em," 
 said Bob. 
 
 "From what I read in the papers," she answered, "it 
 looks like they kinder push themselves on people some- 
 times, though." 
 
 Tom Parker, at an adjoining table, laughed, "They 
 sure do, Mrs. Deane, but if they push themselves on me,
 
 250 White and Black 
 
 they've got to do some fast pushing. I'd get up and 
 hump." 
 
 "Well, I reckon I'd do about the same thing," said 
 Bob, blushing, but grateful to Tom for the intervention. 
 
 "But they tell me that they never get after anybody 
 that's been good," said Mrs. Deane. 
 
 "Well, they'll be certain to let Bob and me alone, ha! 
 ha! ha!" said Tom. 
 
 "Tom, I think you'd like to join 'em," said Mrs. Deane 
 with exasperation in her tone. 
 
 "Sure thing," said Tom, "I'd join 'em in a minute, if 
 they'd let me." 
 
 "And what about you, Bob?" 
 
 "No'm, I don't think Papa would like it, and " 
 
 "When it ain't Mama with Bob, it's Papa," said Tom 
 teasingly. 
 
 "Well, it would be better if you were the same way, 
 Tom," said Mrs. Deane with a gleam of satisfaction in 
 her eyes. 
 
 Later she said to Mr. Deane, "Jasper, I don't know, 
 Bob may be a pretty good boy, after all." 
 
 "I always told you he was good enough, but not much 
 of a worker," snorted Mr. Deane. 
 
 On the way home that night Bob's first thought was, 
 "Outside of Minnie, the Deanes are certainly disagree- 
 able people. They seem to think I belong to 'em, and 
 they keep on poking questions at me till I don't have 
 any rest." 
 
 And then he thought, "Suppose the Ku Klux were to 
 get after a feller, sho' 'miff! But, shucks! they ain't 
 going to do anything." ; 
 
 Still his mind kept running on the same idea, and the 
 night was dark and lonesome. When he came to the
 
 White and Black 251 
 
 creek bottom with its dank woods on each side of the 
 road, he urged Saladin to a gallop. And it was not until 
 he had climbed the hill and turned in at the big gate, 
 that his tension relaxed into a feeling of relief. As he 
 rode slowly along the avenue of pecan trees, drowsiness 
 overtook him. "Gee ! I'm sleepy," he muttered. But in 
 the midst of a yawn he suddenly became aware of the 
 approach of a horseman. His mouth snapped to au- 
 tomatically, and cold chills ran along his spine. 
 
 "Is that you, Bob ?" asked a voice. 
 
 "Y-y-yes," stammered Bob. 
 
 "Did you see the Ku Klux?" 
 
 "Y-y-yes, sir." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" came a laugh that Bob recognized as 
 Dr. Anderson's. 
 
 "Oh, shucks ! Dr. Anderson, you, you " But an- 
 other alarming idea occurred to him, "Is anybody at 
 our house sick?" 
 
 "No, but don't ever tell me, Bob, that you are not 
 scared of the Ku Klux." 
 
 "Well, I I wasn't thinking about meeting anybody," 
 said Bob. 
 
 "No," said Dr. Anderson, becoming serious, "but Susie 
 Senter is much worse, and I've been by to tell your 
 father about it. I expect you'd better go in to see him 
 before you put your horse up." 
 
 "Is she much worse?" asked Bob. 
 
 "Yes, she's a whole lot worse," answered Dr. Ander- 
 son, "I don't think she will ever get well. It's a pitiful 
 thing. But good night, Bob." 
 
 "Good night, doctor." 
 
 When Bob came into the sitting-room, his father said, 
 "Dr. Anderson has been here, and has told me that Susie
 
 252 White and Black 
 
 Senter will hardly live beyond to-morrow or next day. 
 I've been thinking about it, and I believe the only thing 
 to do, is to warn the sheriff to take Madison Mulberry 
 out of our jail to another county, probably to the City 
 would be best. Have you put up Saladin?'' 
 
 "No, sir, Dr. Anderson told me I had better see you 
 first. I met him in the avenue." 
 
 "Well, I think I ought to ride over to-night and wake 
 up the sheriff. It might not be necessary, but if Susie 
 dies and Madison is here, there is no telling what might 
 happen." 
 
 "Did Dr. Anderson tell you about the Ku Klux?" 
 asked Bob. 
 
 "Yes, he told me they marched through the town." 
 
 "Papa, if you are going over there to-night, let me 
 go with you." 
 
 "You are not afraid the Ku Klux will get me, are 
 you?" asked Mr. Robertson, smiling. 
 
 "No, not exactly," said Bob, "but if you don't mind, 
 I'd rather go with you." 
 
 "Well, thank you, son, we'll go and saddle my horse." 
 
 "Let me get our guns," said Bob, "they are downstairs 
 here in the closet under the stairway." 
 
 "Oh, all right, if they'd make you feel better, but we 
 won't need 'em. And I reckon no, I'd better go up 
 and tell your mother. I know she hasn't gone to sleep, 
 with you out. She went up more than an hour ago to 
 put the Senter children to bed, and I suppose she de- 
 cided to undress and lie down. All those children keep 
 her pretty busy during the day." 
 
 "I'll go saddle the horse while you tell her," said Bob. 
 
 When it was explained to Mrs. Robertson that there 
 was no danger, that they were merely going to tell the
 
 White and Black 253 
 
 sheriff to remove Madison, in order to prevent the proba- 
 bility of another lynching, she gave a reluctant consent 
 to their going, but Mr. Robertson didn't say anything 
 to her about the Ku Klux. 
 
 When they reached the sheriff's house and waked him* 
 he came out half dressed and sleepy. Mr. Robertson, 
 explained their errand to him. 
 
 "Shucks! Will, I ought to have told you, I reckon,'* 
 he said, "but I got tipped off that the Ku Klux were 
 going to march to-night, and I took Madison to the 
 City last night without saying anything about it to any- 
 body except my deputy who went with me. I thought 
 it was best to be on the safe side." 
 
 "Good boy, Rod!" said Mr. Robertson. "I'm sorry 
 I disturbed you." 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, Will, but it's a pity you had to 
 come way over here this time of night." 
 
 "Well, Dr. Anderson has just told me that Susie 
 Senter will probably not last beyond to-morrow or next 
 day." 
 
 "Phew! I'm glad I've got Madison out of the way," 
 said the sheriff. "Oh, but it's a hell of a thing for that 
 poor little girl to have to die. Damn those infernal nig- 
 gers!" 
 
 "Yes, Sister Maxcy and Dr. Anderson did all they 
 could, and Brother Maxcy has been there most of th& 
 time, helping around on the outside. But didn't any- 
 thing do any good." 
 
 "Sister Maxcy is really a good woman in spite of 
 her sharp tongue, ain't she, Will?" 
 
 "She is that!" answered Mr. Robertson. "But good 
 night, Rod."
 
 254 White and Black 
 
 "Good night, Will, and Bob, I hadn't hardly noticed 
 you, you're gettin' to be a regular man now, ain't you ? 
 But good night, both of you." 
 
 "Good night, Mr. Rodney," answered Bob, his breast 
 swelling with pride at the compliment. It was something 
 worth while to be told by the sheriff that you were get- 
 ting to be a regular man.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 EARLY Saturday morning Sim Senter came by the old 
 Benton place. Mr. Robertson hurried oat to meet him, 
 and asked, "How is she this morning, Sim?" 
 
 "She died last night, Mr. Will, and I'm on my way to 
 git the coffin now. I thought I'd come by and tell you/' 
 his lips twitched, and tears ran down his cheeks. 
 
 "Do you want me to go with you, Sim ?" 
 
 "Well, I thought maybe if you and Miss Mamie could 
 come and help me to pick out the coffin and, and, we 
 didn't have nuthin' fittin' to bury her in, and my wife has 
 got to have somethin' to wear to the funeral." 
 
 "Don't worry about that, Sim. Sister Maxcy sent us 
 word by Brother Maxcy, and Mamie and some of the 
 other ladies spent yesterday in getting and making the 
 things for Susie and for Mrs. Senter, too. They are in 
 the house now." 
 
 "Thank you, thank you kindly, Mr. Will. I know we 
 never kin pay back all the folks have done for us. They 
 have been so good. Ever'body has. All the people out 
 our way has been wantin' to set up with us, an' do ever'- 
 thing they could. But couldn't nobody do no good." 
 He broke down and wept. 
 
 "There, there, Sim, that's all right I'll go with you 
 and help you select the coffin." 
 
 "It would be all right, don't you think, Mr. Will, for 
 me to use that money you and Brother Maxcy brought 
 out there?" 
 
 "Of course it would, that's the way the people would 
 
 255
 
 256 White and Black 
 
 want you to use it. If it's not enough, we'll make up 
 what's lacking." 
 
 "No, no, it will be enough, but I reckon I ought to 
 tell you Harry used some of it." 
 
 "What did he use it for?" 
 
 "Waal, he wanted to join the Ku Klux, and he didn't 
 have no money, and it took ten dollars to join an' six 
 dollars for the robes an' things, so he used sixteen dol- 
 lars. I don't know if I ought to say anything about 
 it, but I reckon I ought to, too." 
 
 "My God ! what did he want to join the Ku Klux for?" 
 
 "Waal, he said he thought he owed it to Susie." 
 
 "Owed it to Susie !" 
 
 "Yas, and then he don't like it much about that Rich- 
 ard Sanders harborin' that nigger that night. He says 
 they've took Madison off, but Richard is hyeer yit." 
 
 "But great God! Sim, didn't I tell you that Richard 
 was merely keeping him to hand him over to the offi- 
 cers?" 
 
 "Yas, and I told Harry that, but it never did seem to 
 take on him, somehow." 
 
 "Now, look here, Sim, we've got to stop that thing. 
 We can't have any more trouble like that. Did you tell 
 Harry that if it hadn't been for Richard, we might never 
 have caught Ulysses?" 
 
 "Naw, I never did tell him that." 
 
 "Well, you tell him that. It's a fact. Suppose Rich- 
 ard had told him to keep a-running and had helped him 
 on his way. We might never have caught him." 
 
 "Yas, but Harry thinks mebbe Richard did tell him 
 that and tried to git him to run, but he was too skeered, 
 and we was too hot on his trail."
 
 White and Black 257 
 
 "Now, Sim, you know we've got to stop that thing, 
 and are you going to help me or not?" 
 
 "Whut kin I do, Mr. Will?" 
 
 "You can do more with Harry than anybody else 
 can." 
 
 "Yas, that's so, but if the Ku Klux git Richard San- 
 ders, won't none of us be to blame. It won't be no 
 business of ours." 
 
 "Oh, Sim, can't you see that the whole thing is our 
 business ?" 
 
 "Waal, Mr. Will, I always did say it about you, that 
 you took too much on yourself. You borry other folks's 
 troubles." 
 
 "Oh, Sim, Sim, can't you see? But you will do the 
 best you can to hold Harry back, won't you?" 
 
 "Yas, I'll do the best I kin," said Sim doubtfully. 
 
 "Well, let's go and get the coffin," said Mr. Robertson 
 impatiently. "You can come back by here and take the 
 things Mrs. Robertson has for you." 
 
 "Mr. Will, I don't want you to think I ever will forgit 
 whut you all have done for us." 
 
 "Well, the best way for you to show it, is to try to 
 help us keep down further trouble," said Mr. Robertson 
 shortly. "But we will go on to town and see Mr. Hiram. 
 He will attend to the grave and everything." 
 
 "Yas, it's funny, ain't it, Mr. Will, how he takes all 
 the funerals on hisself?" said Sim. 
 
 "He has got a big heart," answered Mr. Robertson, 
 "and he feels that's the one way he can help folks." 
 
 "Yas, for rich or po' he'll see to the grave-diggin', 
 and never a cent for his trouble. Can't nobody keep 
 from likin' Mr. Hiram."
 
 258 White and Black 
 
 When they reached town and acquainted Mr. Hiram 
 with the sad news, he said, "Poor little thing, so she had 
 to die," and his voice broke. "But you will let me see 
 to the grave-diggin' and everything, won't you, Sim ?" 
 
 "Thank you, thank you kindly, Mr. Hiram. We 
 thought we'd have the funeral Sunday evenin' 'bout three 
 o'clock. Dr. Anderson said she'd keep that long, an' 
 it's jus' bustin' her mama's heart in two to give her up," 
 and Sim sobbed aloud. 
 
 "There, there, Sim," said Mr. Hiram, "I'll see that 
 the notices are gotten out, and the flowers and the hearse 
 and the pall-bearers and the grave dug. Mr. Will, when 
 you go back, tell John Ramsey to come on over here. 
 He's not much good at anything else, but he's the best 
 grave-digger in the county." 
 
 Two hours later at the cemetery, John Ramsey, under 
 the direction of Mr. Hiram, had marked off the grave 
 and showed his helper, the negro deaf mute named 
 Handy, where to begin digging. Before sticking in his 
 own spade, he paused to wipe the sweat from his face 
 with a soiled bandana handkerchief, and said, "Mr. 
 Hiram, me and you has put lots of folks away, ain't 
 we?" 
 
 "Yes, we have, John." 
 
 "But we ain't never put away nobody like dis bef o' !" 
 
 "No, thank God, and I hope we may never have to do 
 it again," said Mr. Hiram. 
 
 "I don't see whut makes some niggers so low down," 
 said John. "I don't never have no trouble wid de white 
 folks. An' whut good do it do? Ulysses done got 
 hiss'ef burnt up, an' whut dey gwine to do to Madison 
 yit, ain't nobody knows."
 
 White and Black 259 
 
 "Yes, that's so, John." 
 
 "I say a nigger is a nigger jes' like a mule is a mule, 
 an' dey ain't no way to make a horse outen him. You 
 kin let his mane an' tail grow, so he looks somep'n like 
 a horse, an' sometimes he gits some of de ways of a 
 horse, but mmck-unh, look out, de fust thing you know, 
 he done give hisse'f away, an' he ain't nuthin* but jes" 
 plain mule." 
 
 "Yes, there's a lot of truth in that," said Mr. Hiram. 
 
 "Waal, dey's one thing," said John, "I never did like 
 dat Madison nohow. I never did want to have no truck 
 wid him, but he kep' on a-shovin' dem shotes on me 
 twell I 'greed to buy 'em. An' hyeer jus' de yuther day 
 come along a feller an* say Mr. Senter kin git dat money 
 out of me ag'in, 'cause it wuz stolen property, when I 
 done already paid Madison. How *bout dat, Mr. 
 Hiram?" 
 
 "Oh, I don't think there is any need to worry about 
 that, John. Everybody has too much else to think about 
 now." 
 
 "An' hyeer come de Ku Kluxes an* ever'thing, an' it 
 looks sorter like in a way it all runs back to dem shotes," 
 
 "No, John, it's hard to tell how far anything runs 
 back. If Madison hadn't been the kind of nigger he 
 was, or if Ulysses had been different, or if Mr. Senter 
 hadn't had the shotes, or if there had been no such thing 
 as the Nineteenth, or if Madison had had some money, 
 or if our forefathers hadn't wanted slaves oh, you never 
 can find the real beginning of anything !" 
 
 "Dat's sho' de truth, Mr. Hiram. I never had thought 
 about dat. An' den you never kin tell whar nuthin's 
 gwine to end, neither. Maybe we gwine to have lots mo* 
 trouble yit."
 
 ^60 White and Black 
 
 "Well, I hope not," said Mr. Hiram. "I hope things 
 will quiet down now." 
 
 "Yassuh, but ain't Mr. Will talkin' a whole lot 'g'inst 
 dem Ku Kluxes?" 
 
 "What's that got to do with it?" 
 
 "Nuthin', I reckon, but it looks to me like dis is a 
 good time to keep yo' mouf shet." 
 
 "But I don't think you can ever do that, John," said 
 Mr. Hiram, smiling. 
 
 "Nunck-unh, Mr. Hiram, dey's a lot of things dis nig- 
 ger ain't never gwine to say nuthin' 'bout befo' de Jedg- 
 ment Day, an' Mr. Gabriel gwine to have to press him 
 mighty hard den, haw ! haw ! haw !" 
 
 "You ought not to be laughing loud that a way, while 
 you are digging a grave, John." 
 
 "Naw, suh, Mr. Hiram, I sho' oughtn't. I plum for- 
 got. But I been a-thinkin', an' I hope dey ain't nuthin' 
 gwine to happen to Mr. Will." 
 
 "Oh, the Ku Klux say they are not going to hurt any- 
 body except them that have been up to mischief." 
 
 "Waal, dey ain't gwine to do nuthin' to Mr. Will, den, 
 but den ag'in folks don't love to be talked ag'inst. I 
 say when you talks, talk in favor of somebody." 
 
 "But you've just been talking against Madison and 
 Ulysses." 
 
 "Yassuh, dat's a fac', but one of dem niggers is plum 
 burnt up, an' de yuther one is inside de jail, haw, haw, 
 haw!" 
 
 "Well, get to work now," said Mr. Hiram, "and stop 
 that laughing. I've got to go and see about the other 
 things." 
 
 When Mr. Hiram was gone, John took up his spade, 
 pushed it into the earth, and said to his helper, "Handy,
 
 White and Black 261 
 
 dey's one thing I likes about you, a man kin talk to you 
 all he wants to, an' you don't never break in on him, 
 'cause you can't hyear nuthin' he says, an' if you could, 
 you couldn't say nuthin' about it. Dey sho' would be 
 lots less trouble in dis worl', if ever 'body wuz like you, 
 Handy. 
 
 "Whut I want to say anything to Mr. Hiram 'bout 
 dem shotes for? Or dem Ku Kluxes? Dey wuzn't no 
 sense in it. An' it ain't gwine to do nobody no good. 
 S'pose Mr. Hiram wuz to git de notion dat I knowed 
 all de time dem shotes wuz stole, or s'pose somep'n wuz 
 to happen to Mr. Will an' Mr. Hiram wuz to say, 
 'Unh-hunh, dat nigger knowed somep'n an' he wouldn't 
 tell an' now see whut's happened !' Den whar would I 
 be? An' I don't know nuthin' about none of it. But 
 somehow or nuther when you is diggin' a grave, yo' 
 min' gits to goin' 'roun' an' 'roun', an' de fust thing you 
 know, yo' tongue jes' runs you blabity-blab right smack 
 into de heart of trouble." 
 
 It was the biggest funeral that Compton had ever 
 seen. People came from miles and miles around. The 
 grave was a bank of flowers. And for once the Senter 
 family was the cynosure of all eyes. 
 
 In spite of her grief, Mrs. Senter could not help but 
 have some feeling of complacency. She was dressed 
 just as she felt the occasion demanded, the coffin was a 
 metal casket, and thanks to the good offices of Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson and other ladies of the community, the children 
 made a creditable appearance. 
 
 When it was over and they had reached home, she 
 said, "Sim, wouldn't it be nice to have good clothes all 
 of the time?"
 
 262 White and Black 
 
 "I'm s'prised at you, Jennie, to be thinkin* of clothes 
 at sich a time as this !" 
 
 "Oh, Sim, Sim, men folks can't never understand," she 
 cried, and turning from him, she threw her arms around 
 a post of the porch, leaned her weather-beaten cheek 
 against it, and wept. Her spirit was bowed down under 
 the desolation of poverty as well as that of bereavement, 
 and she was overwhelmed with the realization that 
 for her neither would ever end.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 MONDAY, Bob and Mr. Robertson went to take the Sen- 
 ter children back home. During their absence Cindy 
 came in to talk matters over with Mrs. Robertson. 
 
 "Yassum, Miss Mamie, jes' like you wuz sayin', de 
 bes' thing'll be for me to marry Cyrus, I reckon," she 
 declared. 
 
 "I'm glad that you have come to that conclusion, 
 Cindy. It is the only thing for a respectable woman 
 and a Christian to do." 
 
 "Yassum, an' dem is two things I always is been." 
 
 "What are you talking about, Cindy?" 
 
 "Why, whut you said, Miss Mamie, I always is been 
 a respectable woman an' a Christian. Ain't nobody ever 
 hyeared of me cuttin' up an' runnin' roun' loose, an' 
 dancin' an' fightin' like some of dese yuther niggers. 
 I'm stiddy an' hard-workin' an' reliable, an' I gives 
 money to de church all de time, an' dat's whut makes 
 me mad." 
 
 "Why, Cindy! does giving money to the church make 
 you mad?" 
 
 "Nome, not prezackly dat, but whut comes of it." 
 
 "What has become of it?" 
 
 "Waal 'um, you ain't hyeared about Sally, is you, Miss 
 Mamie?" 
 
 "No, what about Sally?" 
 
 "She is gone, gone for good, gone to de City." 
 
 "Oh, has she?" 
 
 "Yassum, when you all wuz at de funeral yestiddy 
 
 263
 
 264 White and Black 
 
 evenin', I got kinder lonesome an' thought I'd go down 
 to de station. An' who did I see but Sally, all dressed 
 up fit to kill? An' I axed her is she goin' away. An r 
 she say hunh! she's tired of Compton, it's too little for 
 her, she's gwine where she kin have a good time. 
 
 "An' I axed whar is dat. An' she say down to de 
 City. An' when I say how long is she gwine to stay, 
 she say she ain't never comin' back." 
 
 "Well, I think it is a good riddance," said Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 "Yassum, I think so, too. But I tol' her shucks! she 
 ain't got no money to stay in de City wid. An' den 
 whut do you reckon, Miss Mamie?" 
 
 "I don't know, Cindy, what?" 
 
 "She reached down in her stockin' an' pulled out a 
 roll of bills an' shuck 'em in my face. I never wuz so 
 outdone. An' she say you see dis, it's Babtis' money, an' 
 she laughed like she would bust. Yes, says she, ii's 
 Babtis' money." 
 
 "What did she mean by that?" 
 
 "Dat's whut I axed her, an' she say, ax Brother San- 
 ders, he kin tell me. An' when I say stop yo' foolin' 
 roun' hyeer, an' tell me whar you got dat money from, 
 she say Brother Sanders got sorry for her an' gin it 
 to her. An' den she laughed some mo'. 
 
 "An' I tol' her she wuz a-lyin', an' she better mind 
 out how she come a-slanderatin' Brother Sanders 'roun' 
 me. An' she say I kin have Brother Sanders for all of 
 her. She say she done wid him, an' she gwine to de 
 City whar dey's some sho' 'nuff folks. She say she 
 'spises de country, an' den she laughed some mo'. An' 
 den she say, naw, I can't have Brother Sanders, 'cause
 
 White and Black 265 
 
 he tol' her if he gwine to stay good, he got to marry, 
 an' he gwine to marry one of Brother Joe Williams's 
 gals. 
 
 "An' I come mighty nigh to slappin' her in de face 
 right dere on de flatform, 'cause she say Brother Sanders 
 say I been a-settin' my cap for him, but he can't affo'd 
 to fool 'long wid me, 'cause I'm too ole an' fat an' black 
 an' ain't got a good reppitation. Now, whut do you think 
 of dat, Miss Mamie?" 
 
 "Oh, I wouldn't pay any attention to what Sally says." 
 
 "Nome, I wouldn't ha' neither if it hadn't ha' been 
 for dat money. But money talks, Miss Mamie. An* 
 whar did she git it from?" 
 
 "Did she have much money?" 
 
 "Yassum, she's boun' to 've had 'bout fifty dollars." 
 
 "Well, that is a good deal, but I hope she didn't really 
 get it from Richard. It will hurt Mr. Will so, to hear 
 that Richard has had anything to do with Sally. He 
 has been so hopeful that Richard would really do a 
 good work among you all." 
 
 "Yassum, dat's whut I says, Miss Mamie, let him do 
 a good work, an' not spen' all his time skylarkin' 'roun' 
 wid dem Williams gals. Hunh, I wouldn't wipe my 
 foot on him. I'm mighty nigh a mind to go and jine 
 de Methodists. Anyhow, Cyrus is a Methodist, an' if 
 we gits married, it may be de bes' for both of us to 
 belong to de same church." 
 
 "Well, of course, you would have to judge for your- 
 self about that, Cindy, but I would hate for you to do 
 anything that would hinder any real good that Richard 
 is trying to do." 
 
 "Nome, I ain't gwine to hender. All I'm gwine to 
 do, is to git out of his way."
 
 266 White and Black 
 
 "But do you think, Cindy, there really was anything 
 improper between Richard and Sally?" 
 
 "Tell me dis, Miss Mamie, did you ever hyear of a 
 man givin' a woman fifty dollars jes' for pure proper- 
 ness ?" 
 
 "No, I don't know that I did," said Mrs. Robertson, 
 smiling. "But then Sally might be telling a story about 
 where she got the fifty dollars from." 
 
 "Nome, I been kinder keepin' an eye on her, an' dey 
 been somep'n nuther gwine on twixt her and him as sho* 
 as you bawn, Miss Mamie. Sich gwine-ons makes me 
 sick, an' I wouldn't be s'prised if I wuz to up an' marry 
 Cyrus nex' week." 
 
 "Well, at any rate, that'll be some good to come out 
 of the thing, Cindy. It will be nicer and better every 
 way for you and Cyrus to marry." 
 
 "Yassum, I reckon so," said Cindy, without enthusi- 
 asm, "but up to now, Miss Mamie, I been de top rail 
 on de fence. An' jes' you watch whut I say, when we 
 gits married, it's gwine to be a mighty tussle for me to 
 stay up dere." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know, Cindy, I believe you can hold your 
 own anywhere, and I think it would be a fine thing for 
 Richard to marry one of Joe's girls. They are good 
 girls, and any one of 'em would make Richard a nice 
 wife." 
 
 "Waal 'urn, if Cyrus gits de upper han' of me, he's 
 gwine to know he's passed through somep'n, an' as for 
 Richard Sanders, it don't make no diffunce to me who 
 he marries or who he don't marry. All I axes is don't 
 lem' me hyear him preach no mo'. He say he don't 
 believe in shoutin' nohow, an' I is a shoutin* woman. 
 I always is been a shoutin' woman, an' I 'specks to shout
 
 White and Black 267 
 
 twell I die. But seems like I smell somep'n a-burnin'. 
 I better be gittin' back to de kitchen," 
 
 That night Mrs. Robertson said to her husband, "Will, 
 Cindy was telling me to-day that Sally Ramsey has left 
 for good, she has gone to the City." 
 
 "Well, it's a good thing if it's true," said Mr. Robert- 
 son, "or, at least, it's good for the country." Then he 
 added with a smile, "I am afraid that Sally is an unde- 
 sirable citizen." 
 
 "But Cindy said she had a lot of money." 
 
 "She got it from Randy Shallow, I reckon, btit if 
 that's so, she probably hasn't left for good." 
 
 "No, Cindy said she got it from Richard Sanders." 
 
 "From Richard Sanders!" 
 
 "Yes, from Richard. Cindy said something has been 
 going on between them, and that Richard told Sally if 
 he was to stay good, he would have to marry, and that 
 he was going to marry one of Joe Williams's girls." 
 
 "Yes, I have heard that he is going to marry Lu- 
 cindy," said Mr. Robertson thoughtfully. 
 
 "Isn't it odd, Will, that he is going to marry the black- 
 est one of the three?" 
 
 "Yes, but she is the oldest, nearest his age." 
 
 "Still, he might have any one of 'em he wants, and it 
 would be more natural for him to want the brightest 
 in color, and that would be Ella." 
 
 "Yes, I reckon so," said Mr. Robertson absently. 
 "But do you think from what Cindy said that there really 
 was anything improper between Richard and Sally?" 
 
 "Well, Cindy said she never heard of a man giving 
 a woman fifty dollars for pure properness," answered 
 Mrs. Robertson with a gleam of amusement in her eye.
 
 268 White and Black 
 
 "No," said Mr. Robertson, "but I had hoped well, 
 the way of it must have been that Richard couldn't stand 
 against the temptation of Sally; he found himself en- 
 tangled with her, and then to get rid of her, gave her 
 the money, and to guard himself, made up his mind to 
 marry at once. Well, that's the best thing he can do." 
 
 "But isn't it ridiculous, Will, that a preacher who was 
 going to do so much for the spiritual welfare of his peo- 
 ple, should get into such a mess right away ?" 
 
 "It's bad, yes," answered Mr. Robertson, "it's unfor- 
 tunate. It'll hurt Richard a lot, especially among the 
 white people, and Cindy will spread it everywhere. But, 
 after all, if he marries and settles down, maybe it will 
 be forgotten. Oh, it looks as if everything is going 
 wrong! But what could he do? Any man is likely to 
 slip up, especially when the women pursue him, as is cer- 
 tain to have happened to Richard. And then what could 
 he do, if he is a good man? He could hardly do any- 
 thing better than what Richard has done and is pro- 
 posing to do." 
 
 "But, Will, you are always trying to excuse people, 
 especially niggers. Most of the folks here will think he 
 ought to be run out of the community." 
 
 "Yes, that's so. But the next preacher they get might 
 be as bad or worse, and Richard really is educated, and 
 can instruct his people and do a world of good among 
 them. And I believe he wants to do it. And there is 
 no telling how Sally circumvented him. She is a regu- 
 lar baggage, and she has lots of sense and lots of en- 
 terprise." 
 
 "Oh, Will, if a preacher can't stand before a bad 
 woman, he is not much of a preacher. The same is true 
 of any man, whether preacher or not."
 
 White and Black 269 
 
 "Well, honey, you know even David had his Bath- 
 sheba." 
 
 "Yes, that's so, but you are not going to bother with 
 trying to uphold Richard, are you?" 
 
 "No, I don't think there'll be any bother about it. 
 Of course I wouldn't like to see him run out of the 
 country, because I think he can and will perform a real 
 service here." 
 
 "But if they try to run him out, Will, you are not 
 going to try to stop them?" 
 
 "Oh, honey, kiss me good night. They are not going 
 to do anything like that. You are always afraid that 
 something is going to happen to your Will, bless your 
 heart, aren't you, honey?" 
 
 "Well, Will, I I" 
 
 "Here, put your head on my arm, now; I'll blow out 
 the light, and let's go to sleep."
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 ON Wednesday morning the community of Compton was 
 startled by the news that during the preceding night the 
 Ku Klux Klan had "got" Henry Thompson. 
 
 About noon a messenger from Rodney Parker, the 
 sheriff, came to summon Mr. Robertson to come armed 
 to a conference to be held in the jury room of the court 
 house at three o'clock. 
 
 There were present at the conference, besides Mr. 
 Robertson, Rodney Parker, Judge Mowry, Squire 
 Meekin, Brother Maxcy, Brother McPherson, the Bap- 
 tist minister, Jasper Deane, senior, Mr. Hiram Shorter, 
 Samuel Deane, brother of Jasper, Dr. Anderson, the four 
 County Commissioners, Professor Adamson, principal of 
 the high school, Mr. Perkins, a merchant, Joe Maroney, 
 the county clerk, and Daniel Barrow, a lawyer. 
 
 Rodney Parker opened the meeting by saying, "I have 
 called you gentlemen together to consult about what is 
 to be done. And I asked you to meet in this room be- 
 cause here we can be free from interruption. Some 
 others that I asked to come, sent excuses or have failed 
 to show up. Banker Meredith said he couldn't afford 
 to take sides on anything like this. The County Judge 
 said he was sick, but he looked mighty healthy yester- 
 day. The County Attorney is out of town. The As- 
 sessor and the Collector said they'd rather not come. 
 And the Mayor says he has pressing business engage- 
 ments for this afternoon. I thought about asking Editor 
 
 270
 
 White and Black 271 
 
 Raston, but I knew he couldn't resist the temptation to 
 put everything in the paper, and I didn't know whether 
 we would want everything printed right now or not. 
 Tony Peters said he would come, but he is not here. 
 The same is true of several others. If I hear no ob- 
 jection, I will take it that it is the sense of the meeting 
 that we go ahead with those present." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 "All right, there being no objection, we'll hear from 
 Dr. Anderson. He knows more about this thing than 
 anybody else." 
 
 "Dr. Anderson ! Dr. Anderson !" cried several voices. 
 
 Dr. Anderson rose, cleared his throat, and began: 
 "About two o'clock this morning I was called to Henry 
 Thompson's house. When I got there, I found Henry 
 in bed, groaning and cussing. There was some tar on 
 his face and head and some feathers still sticking in his 
 hair. Finally I got out of him a more or less connected 
 story to the effect that last night about ten o'clock he 
 heard a noise in the yard. He went out to see what it 
 was. He was grabbed by some masked men, was blind- 
 folded and gagged, and his hands tied, and was taken 
 somewhere in an automobile, not so very far. There he 
 was stripped naked and emasculated, and then warm tar 
 was poured over him, and then it sounded as if a feather 
 bed was cut open, and the slit tick was thrown over his 
 head, almost smothering him; his hands were still tied, 
 and the feathers stuck all over him. 
 
 "They wrapped him up in the bed-ticking, to keep 
 the tar from getting on the automobile, he thought, then 
 brought him back to the court house square and dumped 
 him out naked, except for the tar and feathers, telling 
 him that he and all of his folks were given a week to
 
 272 White and Black 
 
 leave Compton, or something worse would happen to him 
 and them. 
 
 "He managed to get home, where his folks got most 
 of the tar and feathers off of him before I came. I re- 
 dressed his wounds, though they were very well dressed 
 when I first saw them." 
 
 Until then not a man interrupted the speaker with a 
 word, but as Dr. Anderson paused, Jasper Deane, senior, 
 said, "If his wounds were dressed, there must have been 
 a doctor with the Ku Klux." 
 
 "Yes," said Dr. Anderson, "there must have been, for 
 the operation was performed by a man who knew what 
 he was about." 
 
 "Did you ask Dr. Bolton to come here ?" asked Jasper 
 Deane, senior, of the sheriff. 
 
 "Yes, but he sent word he was up late last night with 
 a patient, and didn't feel very well," answered the sheriff. 
 
 Dr. Anderson resumed, "Henry was one of the mad- 
 dest men I ever saw, and he said a lot of things I wouldn't 
 repeat if I didn't think it necessary to do so, in order 
 to avoid further trouble." 
 
 "What did he say?" asked Mr. Perkins. 
 
 "He said that he recognized some of the men, and that 
 he was going to kill 'em, if he never did anything else. 
 And we all know that Henry is a man of his word, and 
 he'll do it. I told Rod Parker about it, and that's one 
 of the reasons why he has called you together here." 
 
 "Who did he say he recognized?" asked Mr. Perkins 
 with evident agitation. 
 
 "Well, I hate to say. I don't like to be in the attitude 
 of a tale-bearer or the betrayer of a confidence. But 
 then again I don't want anybody to feel that I am afraid 
 to say. What do you think about it, Mr. Sheriff ?"
 
 White and Black 273 
 
 "Well," answered Rodney Parker, "I think we all 
 ought to know. I think all of us here can be counted 
 on to try and preserve law and order. What think you 
 all?" 
 
 "I think it would be best for us to know," said Brother 
 Maxcy. 
 
 "Nobody objecting, I take it that all of you agree with 
 Brother Maxcy," said the sheriff. "Go ahead, doctor." 
 
 "He said he recognized one of the men by his voice, 
 and that was Randy Shallow, that there was a doctor 
 with 'em, because somebody called him doctor, and that 
 that must have been Dr. Bolton, because he knew it 
 wasn't me, and that he recognized one of the young men 
 that caught him in the yard because that young man had 
 lost the little finger of his left hand." 
 
 "Hold on there, doctor," cried Jasper, senior, in great 
 excitement. "Hold on there! Everybody knows that 
 my son, Jasper, junior, has lost the little finger on his 
 left hand. Is there anybody here who will tell me that 
 my son belongs to the Ku Klux Klan?" He glared about 
 him in wild anger. 
 
 "That's not the question, Jasper," said his brother 
 Samuel. "The question is how to keep Henry Thomp- 
 son from killing him." 
 
 "I'll keep him from killing him. I'll go and shoot 
 that low down eunuch where he lies in the bed of his 
 nigger mistress!" shouted Jasper, senior. 
 
 "Oh, no, you won't, Jasper," said the sheriff quietly. 
 "We are not going to have any shooting. Hold him 
 there, Samuel. Catch hold of him, Mr. Hiram." 
 
 "It's a lie, an infernal lie," cried Jasper, senior, strug- 
 gling with Samuel and Mr. Hiram. "I haven't brought 
 my boys up to join a gang of trifling loafers that ramp
 
 274 White and Black 
 
 around at night to stir up the niggers and destroy prop- 
 erty!" 
 
 It was some minutes before they could quiet Jasper, 
 senior, so as to go on with the proceedings. 
 
 When quiet was restored, the sheriff said, "We all 
 know Henry. And we know we are going to have some 
 murders on our hands, if we don't prevent 'em. If the 
 Ku Klux keep on, we are going to have murders, any- 
 how. But the case we've got to deal with right now is 
 Henry's. I don't see anything to do but to start a peace- 
 bond proceeding. And of course nobody will go on 
 Henry's bond to keep the peace, because tha*t wouldn't do 
 any good. He wouldn't keep it, the bondsmen would 
 be soaked and the murders committed. The only thing 
 I see to do is to swear out a warrant before Squire 
 Meekin here and put Henry in jail." 
 
 "It looks like it's pretty hard on old Henry to put him 
 in jail after all that has happened to him," said one of 
 the Commissioners with a snigger. 
 
 "Well, what else would you suggest?" asked Judge 
 Mowry sarcastically. 
 
 The Commissioner merely grinning sheepishly, Lawyer 
 Barrow spoke up, "Yes, put him in jail by all means. 
 He is a danger to the community." 
 
 "Especially to the members of the Ku Klux Klan," 
 said Judge Mowry with a little smile of malice. 
 
 "Do you intimate that I am a member?" asked Lawyer 
 Barrow. 
 
 "No, I don't intimate it. I know and affirm it," an- 
 swered Judge Mowry. 
 
 "I refuse to take further part in this silly proceed- 
 ing," declared Barrow, and stalked out of the door. 
 
 "Well, if any other member of the Klan is present and
 
 White and Black 275 
 
 he feels like revealing himself or leaving," said the sher- 
 iff, "this might be a good time. However, he's welcome 
 to stay. We haven't got anything to hide. It might 
 be well for him to stay, learn all he can, and warn his 
 fellow uplifters of public morals by the road of maim- 
 ing and murder, so that they will not be hurt. We don't 
 want anybody killed, Ku Klux or not." 
 
 Then there rose in his place Brother McPherson, the 
 Baptist minister, pale as a sheet and trembling. "Breth- 
 ren," he said, "I want to confess. I am a member of 
 the Klan. I joined it without realizing what it would 
 lead to. It was presented to me mainly as a bulwark of 
 the Protestant religion. I thought of it more as a de- 
 fense against the spread of Catholicism and the power 
 of the Jews than as anything else. And I was told that 
 the head of it was once an evangelist a Methodist, it 
 is true, but still an evangelist so I joined." 
 
 "Well, what do you want to do, Brother McPherson?" 
 asked the sheriff. 
 
 "There is but one thing for me to do as a Christian 
 minister, and that is to withdraw from the Klan." 
 
 "Oh, I mean now. What do you want to do now? 
 Go or stay?" the sheriff asked impatiently. 
 
 "I move," said Mr. Robertson, "that Brother McPher- 
 son be invited and urged to stay with us. We need the 
 benefit of his counsel and influence." 
 
 The motion was carried unanimously, and Brother 
 McPherson said in acknowledgment, "Brethren, you 
 don't know how this touches me. I feel that I had for- 
 feited your confidence by having done a foolish thing, 
 a wicked and sinful thing, but, God be praised, you have 
 forgiven me!" He sat down and buried his face in 
 his hands.
 
 276 White and Black 
 
 Mr. Perkins rose, and said with many pauses and 
 hesitations, as one not used to public speaking, "Gentle- 
 men as you all know I'm, ah, a member of, ah, 
 Brother McPherson's church, and when I, ah, heard 
 that he was to be a member of, ah, ah, the Klan, I joined, 
 too. I, ah, am a hundred per cent American, and, gen- 
 tlemen, I, ah, feel that many of you, ah, fail to realize, 
 ah, the danger to our, ah, beloved institutions in letting 
 the, ah, niggers, Jews, and Catholics, ah, have free sway 
 in this, ah, ah, our glorious country, the ah, home of the, 
 ah, free and land of the ah, brave, ah, especially the, 
 ah, Catholics. They burned people, ah, once, and they 
 would, ah, do it again, if, ah " 
 
 "But they never tarred, feathered, and castrated 'em, 
 did they?" asked County Clerk Maroney. 
 
 "Well, ah, ah, I don't know. Nothing, ah, is too bad 
 for them, ah, to do. But, gentlemen, I, ah, wish to say 
 that, ah, since my, ah, pastor says it is a wicked and 
 sinful thing to, ah, ah, belong to the, ah, ah, Klan, and 
 I may add it is also? a, ah, ah, dangerous thing, I mean, 
 ah, ah, to the community, I, too, am, ah, going to re- 
 sign." 
 
 He sat down amid laughter, but one of the Commis- 
 sioners, named Allen, jumped to his feet, declaring with 
 fiery emphasis, "I am a member of the Invisible Em- 
 pire of the Ku Klux Klan, and I'm proud of it. I say 
 to hell with all of the foes of our proud constitution, 
 the blood-sucking Jews, the hyphenated Huns, and the 
 Pope-worshiping Catholics, to hell with 'em! And this 
 is a white man's country. Niggers must be shown their 
 place and kept in it, and by God! they will be! And 
 the runners after nigger wenches are going to be cured, 
 and cured with the knife. Do you get me? We want
 
 White and Black 277 
 
 no mulatto babies. And I serve notice on all of you 
 here and now that I am going to stay here, and I am 
 going to report the doings of this meeting to the en- 
 shrouded knights of the Ku Klux Klan!" 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed Mr. Perkins. 
 
 "I move that he be invited and urged to stay with us," 
 said Judge Mowry, "we need the benefit of his counsel 
 and influence, ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 His laughter was echoed on all sides, and all eyes were 
 turned on Mr. Robertson, who rose, blushing, and said, 
 "Well, the joke is on me, but I think I was right " 
 
 "Oh, of course you were right, Will," said Judge 
 Mowry affectionately, and then he added with a little 
 smile of mockery, "that's what's the matter with you, 
 you are always so damned right. But let's get down to 
 business. It don't make any difference who is here. 
 The whole order of the invisible and inopportune knights 
 are welcome to hear what we have to say and to know 
 what we are going to do." 
 
 "Allow me a moment, please," said Brother McPher- 
 son, "there is one more statement that I wish to make. 
 I was not with those members of the Klan who muti- 
 lated Henry Thompson, if indeed it was members of the 
 Klan. I wish all of you to know that I would never 
 have countenanced anything like that. And whatever 
 Judge Mowry may say, I deeply appreciate the motion 
 made by Brother Robertson and its adoption by this 
 body, and " 
 
 "If you are through, Brother McPherson, we will pro- 
 ceed to business," said the sheriff. 
 
 Brother McPherson sat down. 
 
 "As I see it," said Judge Mowry, "the only thing to 
 do, is for somebody, preferably Dr. Anderson, as he
 
 278 White and Black 
 
 heard Henry's threats, to make the affidavit before Squire 
 Meekin, and let Squire Meekin issue the order of arrest 
 to the sheriff, and let him commit Henry to jail. We 
 can hold him a year that way if necessary, and I reckon 
 the whole thing will blow over by that time." 
 
 "But what if somebody comes up and offers to make 
 bail?" asked Mr. Perkins. 
 
 "Oh, I'll take care of that," said Squire Meekin ; "who- 
 ever the bondsmen are, they won't be satisfactory." 
 
 "Oh, well, there's no danger of that, anyhow," said 
 Samuel Deane. 
 
 "What are you talking that way for?" asked Jasper, 
 senior. "We want to be certain. We don't want that 
 low down cur sneaking around here in the dark, ready 
 to jump at everybody's throats." 
 
 "The putting of him in jail will be certain," said 
 Judge Mowry, "there is no need to worry about that." 
 
 "I will make the oath," said Dr. Anderson, "but there's 
 no use in disturbing Henry to-day. He won't be able to 
 do anything for a day or so yet." 
 
 "I say do it to-day," urged Jasper, senior. 
 
 "Well, all right," said the sheriff. "We can fix up a 
 comfortable bed in the jail for Henry, that is, if Dr. 
 Anderson don't think it too dangerous to Henry to move 
 him." 
 
 "Oh, no, there won't be any danger to him," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 "Now, that being disposed of," said the sheriff, "what 
 are we going to do about the Ku Klux Klan?" 
 
 "I don't know whether it will be better for Brother 
 McPherson to resign or not," said Professor Adamson. 
 "If he should stay in, he might be able to exert a stronger 
 influence toward restraining the other members from
 
 White and Black 279 
 
 acts of violence. I gather that many respectable men 
 are members of the order now. If all of them pull out, 
 then the Klan will be left altogether in the hands of the 
 reckless, irresponsible, or vicious elements, and there is 
 no telling what may happen." 
 
 "No," said Brother McPherson, "my first duty is to 
 the body of Christian people whose guide I am sup- 
 posed to be, and since I realize the probable outcome of 
 the Klan's acts, that duty calls me imperatively to re- 
 sign. However, knowing the members as I do, I be- 
 lieve I can convince them of the unwisdom of further 
 violence, and I pledge myself to try to do that." 
 
 "If Brother McPherson can accomplish that," said 
 Brother Maxcy, "then there will be no further trouble, 
 and the problem is solved." 
 
 "But," said Judge Mowry, "he can not accomplish 
 that. With all due respect to him, I don't think it mat- 
 ters much whether he resigns or not, or how he uses his 
 influence. The order was founded for the purpose of 
 forcing some people to do what other people think they 
 ought to do. The whole thing was born of intolerance 
 and the holier-than-thou spirit. It intends to make non- 
 members be good according to its definition of good. It 
 is bound to work through force, and the only kind of 
 force it can employ is physical violence, and that must 
 be planned and carried out in secret, because, otherwise, 
 the law would prevent it. It is the logical outcome of 
 that very intolerance that has long been preached in these 
 parts by irresponsible, loose-mouthed, fly-by-night evan- 
 gelists who can't make money enough staying in one 
 place, so they go about to peddle their narrow and vicious 
 sectarianism by sensational sermons in places where they 
 can skim off the financial cream of the religiosity of the
 
 280 White and Black 
 
 community and then flit with their ill-gotten gains, leav- 
 ing behind them an intensified bitterness of sectarian 
 hate. I" 
 
 "But, Judge, Judge," said Mr. Robertson, "we are not 
 here to consider modern evangelism, to hear it praised 
 or denounced. Evidently you feel intensely on that sub- 
 ject; many of us do not agree with you, but that's an- 
 other matter. We are concerned with what must be 
 done to modify, abate, or or, stop the activity of the 
 Ku Klux Klan. I confess I am surprised to learn who 
 are some of those who belong to it or sympathize with 
 it. I can not understand the processes of their reason, 
 but we are confronted with a condition that must be 
 remedied, whatever its causes may have been." 
 
 "You are right, Will," answered Judge Mowry. "I 
 was getting off of the point. There are some things I 
 feel so intensely about that I can't be reasonable. 
 Well, we've got to combat the Ku Klux Klan either by 
 reason or by force. Which shall it be ?" 
 
 "As a member of the Klan," said Commissioner Allen, 
 "I want to say that one reason why we propose to see 
 that criminals are punished, is the lax enforcement of 
 the law by the peace-officers and the courts, and the de- 
 lays and evasions of justice through the manipulations 
 of tricky lawyers. Sheriff Parker and Judge Mowry 
 can put that in their pipes and smoke it. If you won't 
 enforce the law, we will, or we will see that criminals 
 don't walk the streets free, unashamed, and unpun- 
 ished." 
 
 "That's an old question, and we can't settle it here," 
 said the sheriff. "If all the people I arrest were con- 
 victed "
 
 White and Black 281. 
 
 "Many innocent folks would be sent to the peniten- 
 tiary," interposed Judge Mowry. 
 
 "Well, you never have arrested Henry Thompson," 
 said Commissioner Allen, "and you've always known " 
 
 "Come, come, gentlemen," said Brother Maxcy, "we 
 are not getting anywhere. For myself, I will preach on 
 the Ku Klux Klan next Sunday, and not in anger. I 
 will try to make my hearers see the folly of trying to 
 reform the world by such methods, and the anarchy that 
 a continuance of them must bring about." 
 
 "I will do the same," said Brother McPherson, "and 
 I move that a committee of three, say, Judge Mowry, 
 Professor Adamson, and Brother Robertson, be ap- 
 pointed to write and print in our county paper the best 
 argument they can make." 
 
 The motion was carried. 
 
 "How would it do," said Samuel Deane, "to call a 
 mass meeting of the citizens in the court house and let 
 us find some one to address them? What we need, I 
 think, is to bring the whole thing out in the open. I 
 think that is the real American way of doing, or it ought 
 to be. Much of the wrong that goes on here or any- 
 where, does go on because people cover it up, and are 
 afraid to face it openly. If our courts are not doing 
 what they should, if our churches are not so good as they 
 ought to be, if criminals walk around free and un- 
 ashamed, if our society is threatened with rottenness, I 
 say let's have a public, open meeting, take stock of our- 
 selves, and realize where we stand. I believe that in 
 such a way a sound public opinion will be so revived 
 that much good will result all around." 
 
 "Yes," said Jasper, senior, with a snarl, "that's the
 
 282, White and Black 
 
 way you've been thinking all of your life, and that's 
 the reason why you haven't got anything. You've been 
 thinking that the people want to do right, when the fact 
 is they don't. Nothing is further from their minds. 
 They want to do wrong. They want to cheat and lie 
 and steal, and they are going to do it, and there ain't 
 any way to stop 'em except to put 'em in jail. Look 
 how I've brought up my boys, and now they say one of 
 them is a Ku Klux. Oh, I'll pull him out all right, if 
 they are not lying on him, but your public meeting will 
 end in moonshine like all your other plans. I say let 
 the grand jury get to work and indict a whole lot of 
 people, that's what I say." 
 
 "That's a good idea, Jasper," said Judge Mowry, "but 
 I think Samuel's open, public meeting will be a good 
 thing, too, if only we could get a man that everybody 
 liked and trusted, to make the main speech." 
 
 "Well, there ought not to be any trouble about that," 
 said Mr. Hiram, "we've got him right here. What's 
 the matter with Mr. Will Robertson?" 
 
 "No, no," said Mr. Robertson, "I I thank you, Mr. 
 Hiram, but I'm not a public speaker, and your partiality 
 for me " 
 
 "I want to thank Mr. Hiram, too," said Judge Mowry. 
 "The only reason I didn't think of Will was because I 
 didn't think of him as a public speaker, but the people 
 will come mighty near to believing what he says, you can 
 count on that." 
 
 "That's what I think," said the sheriff, "this ain't a 
 time when we need a speaker so much; what we need 
 now is a man." 
 
 "I move the choice be made unanimous," said Brother 
 McPherson.
 
 White and Black 283 
 
 "I second it," cried Professor Adamson. 
 
 The motion was carried without dissent. 
 
 "Gentlemen, I will undertake it," said Mr. Robertson, 
 with emotion, "but I must have some time for prep- 
 aration." 
 
 "Of course," said the sheriff. "How would next Tues- 
 day do, Will?" 
 
 "I think that would be time enough." 
 
 "All right, then, we will call the meeting for next 
 Tuesday at eleven o'clock, to give the country people 
 time to get in." 
 
 "Good," said Judge Mowry, "first, then, we'll try rea- 
 son, and if that don't work " , 
 
 "We'll try force," said the sheriff. 
 
 The meeting adjourned.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 IT was dusk of a cloudy evening when Mr. Robertson 
 left the court house. He thought he would be late to 
 supper, so he turned off of the high-road before he came 
 to the bridge. He would take the short cut through the 
 creek bottom, ford the creek, and go home through the 
 bottom gate. He urged his horse to a sharp trot and 
 kept him at that pace where the ground permitted. But 
 just as he was approaching the bottom gate, he heard 
 off to the right a tumult of blows and angry exclama- 
 tions and the loud snorting of a horse. 
 
 "Thud! thud! thud!" blows fell, and a negro's voice 
 was shouting, "Dar now ! Take dat ! Dat's right, kick ! 
 R'ar up ! Pull back ! But I got you." 
 
 "Thud! thud! thud!" 
 
 "Twist an' squum an' snort, but I got you. How you 
 like dat an' dat an' dat? I'm gwine to beat you to 
 death. I wush you wuz him. Oh, Lawd, I wush you 
 wuz him!" 
 
 "Thud! thud! thud!" 
 
 Mr. Robertson, amazed, turned quickly and rode toward 
 the noise. Through the gathering darkness he made out 
 a figure of a man beating a horse. "Here, stop that!" 
 he shouted. 
 
 But the man was so intent he did not hear the cry. 
 "Hunh, Saladin! I'll Saladin you. Take dat. Hunh, 
 how you like it? How you like it? An' dat an' dat an' 
 dat!" 
 
 The horse reared and plunged, fell and scrambled to 
 
 284
 
 White and Black 285 
 
 its feet again, and snorted wildly, but it was powerless to 
 escape, it was tied securely to a tree. 
 
 For a moment Mr. Robertson sat dazed. Could it be 
 that somebody was beating Saladin? Then recovering 
 himself, he dashed forward and struck the man over the 
 head with his pistol. Groaning, the man fell prostrate. 
 Mr. Robertson dismounted, hurried to the horse, looked 
 at it intently, "It is Saladin," he said, "it is Saladin! 
 What on earth? Whoa, Saladin! Whoa, boy!" 
 
 The horse pulled away. Mr. Robertson advanced, 
 holding his hand out, "Whoa, boy, whoa ! There's a 
 good fellow. I'm not going to hurt you, Saladin. Whoa, 
 whoa, boy !" 
 
 He patted the horse on the neck and soothed him. 
 But Saladin winced as if even. a gentle touch hurt him. 
 At last he stood trembling while Mr. Robertson exam- 
 ined him as best he could in the gloom. He had been 
 most cruelly beaten. 
 
 The prostrate man groaned. Mr. Robertson turned 
 to him, stirred him with his foot, and said angrily, "Here, 
 get up! Who are you? What do you mean, you in- 
 fernal scoundrel?" 
 
 The man sat up, looked about him, dazed, saying, 
 "Whar,' whar is I ? Oh, oh, my head !" 
 
 He put his hand to his head. 
 
 "Why, my God!" exclaimed Mr. Robertson, "it's Joe 
 Joe Williams !" 
 
 "Um-m-m-m," groaned Joe, "my head ! It's about to 
 bust." 
 
 "Joe, Joe," said Mr. Robertson, "what on earth do 
 you mean? What has come over you?" 
 
 "Is dat you, Mr. Will ?" 
 
 "Yes, it's me. I'm a mind to tie you to that tree and
 
 286 White and Black 
 
 give you what you were giving Saladin. What do you 
 mean? Are you crazy?'' 
 
 "Wait, wait, Mr. Will, I had somep'n I wanted to give 
 you." 
 
 Painfully he reached into the pocket of his pants, 
 pulled out his closed hand, and then opening it palm up, 
 extended it to Mr. Robertson. "Dar, dar it is, Mr. Will." 
 
 "What is it, Joe? I don't make it out. You must be 
 crazy." 
 
 "Take it, take it, Mr. Will. It's de medal." 
 
 "The medal? What medal?" 
 
 "Yo' yo' boy's medal. He's done ruint my gal!" 
 
 Mr. Robertson took the medal, turned it over and over, 
 looked at it as if it were an unknown thing. "Why, 
 Joe, what are you talking about? Where did you get 
 this medal?" 
 
 "I got it from her." 
 
 "From who?" 
 
 "From Ella, my gal, Ella." 
 
 "Where did she get it?" 
 
 "She got it from Mr. Bob; he give it to her; he's done 
 ruint her." 
 
 "Oh, Joe, Joe, that can not be !'' 
 
 "It's so, Mr. Will. She tol' me. I seen her wid it, 
 an' I whupped her twell she tol' me. But dey's somep'n 
 runnin' in my eye, Mr. Will. I reckon it's blood." 
 
 "Here, Joe, take this handkerchief. Wipe it off. Can 
 you walk?" 
 
 "I don't know, Mr. Will." 
 
 "Here, give me your hand. I'll help you up. Can 
 you stand?" 
 
 "I don't know, Mr. Will. I feels mighty dizzy." 
 
 "I'll catch your arm. Steady now, we'll walk just
 
 White and Black 287 
 
 over there to the creek, and you can wash your face and 
 head. Now give me the handkerchief. I'll wet it for 
 you. Now sit down here with your back against this 
 tree. Now here's the handkerchief, it's wet. Press it 
 to your wound." 
 
 Two or three times Mr. Robertson wet and pressed out 
 the handkerchief. With it Joe washed his wound and 
 stanched the bleeding. 
 
 "So you were beating Saladin for your revenge?" 
 "Whut could I do, Mr. Will? You know how I've 
 raised my gals." 
 
 "Yes, I know, Joe. And you couldn't do anything." 
 "I went up to de big house to see you 'bout it dis 
 evenin'. You wuzn't dar. I wuz waitin' for you, when 
 'long come Cyrus an' axed me if I wuz gwine to stay, 
 to feed for him. He say he wanted to go to town and 
 see if he couldn't make 'rangements to borry some money 
 from Mr. Tony Peters to git married on. He's gwine 
 to marry Cindy nex' week. When I went to feed, 
 somep'n nuther said to me, 'If you can't git him, you 
 kin git de nex' thing to him.' So I brung Saladin down 
 hyeer, an' whupped him. Dat's de truth, so help me 
 Gaad !" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose it is," said Mr. Robertson. "I know 
 
 how you feel, Joe. But I don't know what I can do 
 
 about it. The pity is that what's done can't be undone. 
 
 If it's true, though, I'll try to make it up to you, Joe." 
 
 "I don't see how you kin do dat, Mr. Will." 
 
 "No, I don't but wait if things are as you say, 
 
 your family has been wronged, deeply wronged. Maybe 
 
 I could do something to make it up to them. I could 
 
 do this. I could give Richard Sanders and Lucindy, 
 
 when they marry, that little place of Henry Thompson's
 
 288 White and Black 
 
 over there by Uncle Peter's and the church. I could buy 
 it and give it to them." 
 
 "But Brother Sanders ain't gwine to marry Lucindy." 
 
 "Oh, ain't he? I thought he was." 
 
 "Naw, suh, he's gwine to marry Ella." 
 
 "Ella!" 
 
 "Yassuh, he likes Ella de best, he says. I think it is 
 because she is de brightes'." 
 
 "Well, what are they going to do now?" 
 
 "Oh, he don't know nuthin' 'bout Ella and Mr. Bob. 
 I been studyin' 'bout dat. An' I knows a lot 'bout him 
 an' Sally Ramsey. Cindy tol' me. He said if he's gwine 
 to be good, he's got to marry, an' he gwine to marry one 
 of my gals, an' I reckon Ella could keep him as good 
 as anybody else could." 
 
 "But, Ella does she want to marry him?" 
 
 "Yassuh, she's crazy to marry him, 'cause Lucindy 
 been thinkin' all de time she gwine to git him, an' she 
 been treatin' de yuther gals scornful." 
 
 "Well," said Mr. Robertson after a while, "I suppose 
 I shall have to leave that to you all. If what you say 
 about Ella is true, I don't like to see Richard marry 
 her. But shucks ! if I mix in that, I'll probably do more 
 harm than good. The best way is to let you settle your 
 affairs to suit yourself. In a way there would be more 
 justice, anyhow, in giving the little farm to Ella and 
 Richard." 
 
 "Mr. Will" 
 
 "Yes, Joe." 
 
 "It looks to me like I is de one dat has had all de 
 trouble raisin' dem gals, an' eddicatin' 'em, an' tryin' 
 to keep 'em good. I is de one whut's worked an' slaved 
 an' saved. An' it ain't my fault if dey goes wrong.
 
 White and Black 289 
 
 I done my bes' wid 'em. An' it looks to me like if any- 
 body's gwine to git dat farm, it ought to be me. Let 
 Richard an' Ella start out like me an' Malviny an' work 
 dey way up, an' you give me de farm." 
 
 "Well, well, well," said Mr. Robertson, laughing, "the 
 ruling passion is strong in death. If there's anything 
 coming, you want to get it. I don't know but you are 
 right, though. Well, all right, I'll give you the farm." 
 
 "Dat shows, Mr. Will, whut I always said, if you 
 works hard an' lives right, you'll git somep'n in de end." 
 
 "Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Mr. Robertson. Then all at 
 once he fell sad, as there came over him the realiza- 
 tion, "Such it is and Joe is one of the best of them." 
 He sighed, "Ah, well, it must be admitted, though, that 
 he is the most avaricious. And Bob, Bob, too, in spite 
 of all our care. But it may not be true. It may not 
 be true! Still, Joe's people are honest, and how else 
 could she ever have gotten the medal?" 
 
 Then he said aloud, "Joe, do you feel strong enough 
 to walk home now?" 
 
 "Yassuh, I think I'm mighty nigh all right now. I 
 reckon I'll have to tell de folks dat a limb fell on me." 
 
 "All right, let me see you start off. I'll lead Saladin 
 back." 
 
 Joe rose and walked off quite steadily. 
 
 Mr. Robertson untied Saladin, remounted his own 
 horse, and leading Saladin, headed for home. His 
 thoughts were busy, "Mamie must not know about this 
 just yet. How shall I manage? It will need a lot of 
 thinking, it will require money, and I can see that the 
 crops are going to fail again. Ay, dear me, there are 
 lots of things to worry about. And, Bob, what am I 
 going to do about Bob?"
 
 290 White and Black 
 
 When he reached home, Mrs. Robertson said, "Oh, 
 Will, Will, I was so uneasy. What was the matter? 
 The meeting must have lasted a mighty long time." 
 
 "Yes, it did last a long time." 
 
 "What was the trouble ?" 
 
 "Well, we had to discuss the Ku Klux Klan from A 
 to Z, and decide what to do about Henry Thompson." 
 
 "What did you decide?" 
 
 "To put him in jail until the thing blows over. But 
 Where's Bob?" 
 
 "I'm uneasy about him, too." 
 
 "Why, what's the matter with him?" 
 
 "He said Saladin had gotten out of the lot, so he 
 went an hour ago to look for him, and now it's pitch 
 dark. Oh, I wonder where he can be !" 
 
 "He'll turn up directly, I suppose. I found Saladin 
 in the creek bottom as I came through, and I've brought 
 him home." 
 
 "I wonder how he got out of the gate," said Mrs. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 "I think the main question now, honey, is, did you put 
 me up some supper?" 
 
 "Yes, of course I did, Will. I will get it for you. 
 But if Bob doesn't come back, you will go and look for 
 him, won't you?" 
 
 "Oh, that will hardly be necessary. Of late he seems 
 to be paddling his own canoe." 
 
 "What do you mean by that, Will?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing much, but it seems to me I've seen very 
 little of him in the past few days." 
 
 "Will, darling, have you noticed it, too? I believe 
 there's something the matter with Bob."
 
 White and Black 291 
 
 "Oh, he's getting grown, I reckon," said Mr. Robert- 
 son. 
 
 "But isn't it awful, Will, to think that he will grow 
 away from us?" 
 
 "Yes but I think I hear him now." 
 
 Bob came in. "I couldn't find Saladin anywhere," he 
 said. 
 
 "I found him in the bottom," said Mr. Robertson, 
 "and put him in the stable." 
 
 "I don't understand how he could have got out," said 
 Bob, "I shut the lot gate myself." 
 
 "Well, I'm hungry," said Mr. Robertson; "will you 
 come with us into the dining-room, Bob?" 
 
 "If it is just the same to you, Papa, I'm tired, and I 
 believe I'll go to bed." 
 
 "Oh, all right. Good night, then, but I want you to 
 go over to the big pasture with me early in the morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "Good night, Papa," said Bob, kissed his mother, and 
 went upstairs. 
 
 That night Mr. Robertson slept little. He twisted and 
 turned about, till Mrs. Robertson said, "Will, dear, there 
 is something on your mind; can you tell me about it?" 
 
 "Well, I have to make a speech about the Ku Klux 
 Klan." 
 
 "Oh, Will, Will, can't you let that alone?" 
 
 "No, honey, I can't let it alone."
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 "EARLY the next morning Mr. Robertson went into Bob's 
 room and waked him, saying, "Get up, son. Go and 
 saddle my horse and Saladin. You will find that Saladin 
 has many bruises and scars on him. But say nothing 
 about 'em. We are not going to do much riding. Bring 
 the horses around to the front and hitch 'em some dis- 
 tance down the avenue toward the big gate." 
 
 "All right, Papa," answered Bob, wondering, but afraid 
 to ask what was the matter. 
 
 After breakfast they set out for the big pasture in a 
 mutual silence. When they had crossed the railroad 
 track and were riding through the pasture gate, Mr. Rob- 
 ertson said, "Let's turn down to the left here toward the 
 creek where it is shady." 
 
 When they reached the swimming hole, he said, "Get 
 down and tie your horse, son. I will tie mine. I want 
 to talk to you." 
 
 Bob was so filled with apprehension that his trem- 
 bling fingers could hardly knot the bridle over a low- 
 hanging limb. "What does he know? What does he 
 know?" was running through his mind. 
 
 "We will sit down on this log," said Mr. Robertson, 
 "and you can tell me all about this." He handed the 
 medal to Bob. 
 
 "Well, I I," said Bob, blushing and hanging his head, 
 "where did you get that, Papa?" 
 
 "Come, don't fence with me, son. Be at least man 
 enough to tell me about it." 
 
 292
 
 White and Black 293 
 
 "Oh, Papa, Papa," cried Bob, casting himself on his 
 knees and hiding his face in his hands on the log, "I 
 I don't know what to say !" 
 
 "There's only one thing to say, and -that is the truth," 1 
 answered Mr. Robertson firmly. 
 
 "Well," stammered Bob, "it it was down by the 
 spring. And the fault was mine. She she liked the 
 medal so so much, and and when I I offered to give 
 it to her, she consented. She she has always looked 
 up to me, and and I ought not to have done it. Oh, 
 Papa, does Mama know it?" 
 
 "No, Mama doesn't know it." 
 
 "Are you going to tell her? Oh, I couldn't bear that 
 she should know !" 
 
 "No, I am not going to tell her. But how how did 
 you come to do it? It doesn't look reasonable to me 
 that it should have been Ella, that it began with Ella." 
 
 "No, Papa, it didn't begin with her. It began right 
 here where we are now. It began with Sally, and that 
 was not my fault, Papa, not altogether my fault. Listen, 
 I will tell you about it." 
 
 Tearfully he told his father the whole story. 
 
 "And how do you feel about it now?" Mr. Robertson 
 asked when the hesitating account was finished. 
 
 "Oh, I feel like a wretch, a vile wretch, and I have 
 felt so for weeks. I would give anything, anything if 
 I could undo it, especially about Ella. But but some- 
 thing came over me, Papa. It it was stronger than I 
 was, and somehow I I couldn't help it." 
 
 "Yes, yes, son, it was so. I know that. I do not re- 
 proach you. It does not become me to reproach you. 
 If I can, I want to help you. Oh, son, son, I was guilty
 
 294 White and Black 
 
 of the same thing. And I am trying to say to you what 
 I wanted somebody then to say to me." 
 
 He paused. 
 
 "Yes, it was your mother that saved me. I might 
 have become a Mr. Hiram, a Randy Shallow, or even 
 a Henry Thompson. Do you see where it leads, son?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, Papa, I see. I have always known." 
 
 "Do you think there is anything that can save you?" 
 
 "Oh, if I didn't feel so ashamed of myself when I 
 think of Minnie Deane " 
 
 "I, too, felt that way, but but my love for your 
 mother overwhelmed even that feeling, and and I wish 
 I could say that I had made a clean breast of it, but 
 I couldn't do that. It was not until years afterwards that 
 I could tell her, and at last she she forgave me. And 
 that is one reason why, son, she has tried so hard to 
 to keep you from anything of of that kind." 
 
 "Oh, I understand, and and I promise you and and 
 her that that " 
 
 "Yes, son, I know, that that's all right, son. But 
 you know how Joe tried to bring up his girls. He is 
 nothing but a nigger, still he made a sincere effort, a 
 brave effort. And it was through us that should have 
 been his protectors that the disaster came. Yesterday 
 evening I found him beating Saladin in the creek bot- 
 tom. That was his revenge. He felt that he could not 
 touch you or me." 
 
 "Or you?" 
 
 "Yes, or me. He had a right to feel that I, too, was 
 responsible for your actions. It is a fact, son, that 
 neither you nor I can ever escape responsibility for the 
 actions of each other. Any disgrace falling upon me 
 will attach itself to you. And any honor achieved by
 
 White and Black 295 
 
 you will reflect some of its light on me. You and I and 
 Mother, son, are bound together indissolubly." 
 
 "Oh, I know it." 
 
 "I had to try to make it up to Joe as best I could, so 
 I am going to buy Henry Thompson's little farm and 
 give it to him. But I shall have to mortgage the timber 
 land that I had hoped to keep free for you." 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, Papa." 
 
 "And it makes no difference that that will satisfy Joe. 
 A wrong has been done to Ella that never can be re- 
 paired, and in her to a whole race, for she was an as- 
 piration of that race." 
 
 "Oh, Papa !" 
 
 "Yes, son, and Richard Sanders is going to marry her. 
 We shall always owe a particular debt to Richard San- 
 ders. He doesn't know about you and Ella. And I 
 didn't know, don't now know, what was right about that 
 that" 
 
 "Wouldn't it be best for me to tell him, and take that 
 debt on myself?" 
 
 "You can't do that, son, without further injury to 
 Ella. She must be considered first, for we have already 
 wronged her, and to heap all of the consequences on her 
 head we couldn't do that." 
 
 "No, Papa." 
 
 "And, son, most people would say, 'Oh, they are nig- 
 gers, why bother so much about mere niggers? They 
 would probably be guilty of the same thing with each 
 other, or with other white men. And they don't bother 
 about things of that sort, anyhow. Look at Sally, look 
 at Cindy.' And all that may be true, son, but that 
 doesn't excuse you or me. Do you see, son?" 
 
 "Yes, somebody has to help up."
 
 296 White and Black 
 
 "That's it, that's it, somebody has to help up. And, 
 son, why could it not be us?" 
 
 "Oh, Papa, it can be us !" 
 
 "I don't know what the end of it all will be, but the 
 way to any good end must lie along the road of racial 
 self-respect. The white race must respect itself ; the 
 black, itself; and they must respect each other. Race 
 hatred must be lessened, not increased. Suppose we rec- 
 ognized their inferiority, but were always fair, always 
 just! And now we have the Ku Klux Klan to foment 
 prejudice and hate. But that will be temporary. It will 
 soon pass." 
 
 "Do you think it won't last?" 
 
 "No, it can't last. When the people understand it, when 
 they see the consequences of it, it will die of its own 
 wicked folly." 
 
 "But it may first cost the life of some of our best 
 people, don't you think so ?" 
 
 "Yes, it may do that either directly or indirectly 
 through the mob spirit that it fosters. But, son, you 
 know that for a while I thought of moving to the City, 
 but I have made up my mind that this is the place for 
 me. This is the place where I amount to something, 
 where they love me, where I may yet do some real good." 
 
 "Oh, I am glad, I am glad, and I, too " 
 
 "No, wait, son, you will go to college, and then you 
 will decide for yourself, not now; many things may 
 happen in that time, and you will learn much about your- 
 self. Farming pays less and less. But I am going to 
 make a new start next year. If I have your consent, I 
 am going to mortgage the timber land for enough to buy 
 also some thoroughbred cattle, and make a live-stock 
 farm out of this place, and move the Senters over here.
 
 White and Black 297 
 
 John Ramsey is going to move, and Joe Williams will 
 be on his own farm. The lower place I will farm as 
 heretofore, at least, for a few years, until I can see how 
 the new experiment turns out." 
 
 "Oh, how could you think about asking my consent? 
 You know, you know that whatever you do will seem 
 right and best in my eyes. And besides, I am to blame 
 for the whole " 
 
 "No, no, son, not for all. It is hard to place blame. 
 We have inherited a burden from our ancestors, the 
 consequences of slavery, and we live under that bur- 
 den, but they did not foresee the consequences. It is 
 hard to foresee the consequences of a bad thing, espe- 
 cially when it is a thing that, for the time being, is pleas- 
 ant and profitable to us. And every bad thing has so 
 many evil consequences." 
 
 "Yes, Papa." 
 
 "In their places, we should likely have done what 
 they did. And after all is said and done, it is probably 
 better for the present generation of niggers to be here in 
 the condition in which they find themselves, than in the 
 wilds of Africa. In some way that I do not compre- 
 hend, it may be better for us. But I should like for you 
 always to remember that a nigger is still a human being, 
 in most cases an undeveloped human being that needs 
 guidance and protection, and in all cases a human being 
 that has a right to justice and fair dealing." 
 
 "Yes, Papa." 
 
 "And, son, there will come times when this talk of 
 mine may seem to you soft and sentimental." 
 
 "No, no, I never will " 
 
 "Yes, it would seem so to nearly everybody, but when 
 I was a boy, I made up my mind that if ever I had a
 
 298 White and Black 
 
 son, I would talk out my heart to him. And that is what 
 I am now trying to do." 
 
 "Oh, I shall always be grateful and " 
 
 "I have done many things of which I am ashamed, but 
 I know now it is not best to think on them too much. 
 They lame you. It is best to put them behind you, for- 
 get them, banish them entirely from your memory. What 
 is done can not be undone ; why wear it as a corpse 
 about your neck? But how fine it would be if we could 
 say now with regard to any present thing that is shame- 
 ful, 'It is shameful; I will do nothing shameful, even 
 to hide a former shame !' " 
 
 "Oh, Papa, I'm going to have to tell Mama." 
 
 "Yes, son, I hoped you would." 
 
 "And it will hurt her so !" 
 
 "Yes, son, it will hurt her." 
 
 "And before ever I should ask Minnie to marry me, 
 she ought to know?" 
 
 "Yes, son, she ought to know." 
 
 "Oh, that is hard!" 
 
 "Yes, it is hard, but it would be harder still for you 
 if they did not know if you had to live with them with- 
 out their knowing. Mama, I know, and Minnie, if she 
 loves you, will help you to forget. And if the knowl- 
 edge comes to them from you, their pain will not be one- 
 half so great as if it came from some one else. And 
 so you will be set free, as far as you ever can be free." 
 
 "Oh, then, I never can be entirely free?" 
 
 "No, never so free as if the thing had never been. 
 But freer, possibly, than you think now, for there is also 
 much healing merely in the lapse of time. And, son, I 
 haven't said anything to you about religion. It seems, 
 somehow, harder to talk about that than about anything
 
 White and Black 299 
 
 else. Perhaps it is because we all feel that we fall so 
 far below its high standards, but you know how I feel 
 about it." 
 
 "Yes, I" 
 
 "Good mawnin', Mr. Will, good mawnin', Mr. Bob." 
 John Ramsey had approached unnoticed with a gun on 
 his shoulder. "I didn't know you all wuz down hyeer. 
 I wuz jes' bruisin' aroun' lookin' for a squir'l. De ole 
 woman wants somep'n to put in de pot." 
 
 "Have you heard from Sally, John?" asked Mr. Rob- 
 ertson. 
 
 "Yassuh, I got a letter yestiddy evenin'." 
 
 "How is she getting on?" 
 
 "She's doin' fine, Mr. Will, jes' fine. She writ she's 
 made mighty nigh fifty dollars sence she's been in de 
 City already, an' she say she's gwine to send me some 
 money when she gits a little mo'." 
 
 "What is she doing?" 
 
 "I don't know, suh, jes' prezackly, but she say busi- 
 ness is fine in de City. She says she ain't gwine to ever 
 come back up hyeer. She say things is too slow for her 
 'round Compton, an' dey's mo' loose money down dar 
 whar she is." 
 
 "Well, you are going to move over to Mr. Randy Shal- 
 low's place this fall, aren't you?" 
 
 "I don't know, suh, I wuz a-thinkin' about it, but 
 den I say to myse'f, 'Nunck-unh, I don't know how Mr. 
 Will gwine to git along widout me !' " 
 
 "Well, I am going to get along without you, all right," 
 answered Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Meanin', Mr. Will?" 
 
 "Meaning that you are going to move somewhere, and 
 you had better be looking out for a place."
 
 300 White and Black 
 
 "Waal, suh, of co'se I kin move, but I sorter hates to 
 leave you in de lurch, Mr. Will." 
 
 "Don't bother about that," said Mr. Robertson, smil- 
 ing, "I'll manage to get along." 
 
 "Waal, suh, I don't have to move early in de fall, 
 right at de beginnin', so to say, does I ?" 
 
 "Oh, no, there's no hurry about it. Take your time. 
 I'll help you find another place, if you can't find one 
 for yourself. I am going to make a stock farm out of 
 this place." 
 
 "It sho' will make a good un', Mr. Will, whut wid all 
 dis hyeer Johnson grass an' 'Muda grass I been a-fightin' 
 so hard. But I knowed you wouldn't give me up, Mr. 
 Will, 'ceppen you had to. Of co'se I ain't no cattle 
 man, I's a farmer, but den," scratching his head thought- 
 fully, "I's a putty good cattle man, too." 
 
 "Well, next year you may exercise your talents some- 
 where else. Run along now." 
 
 When John was gone, Mr. Robertson said, "Bob, sup- 
 pose we take a swim. I've got a fancy stroke that I 
 don't believe I ever did show you." 
 
 "All right, Papa, I'd just love to," answered Bob joy- 
 fully. 
 
 As John walked on, peering up in the trees for a 
 squirrel, he was thinking, "Hunh ! I kep' my mouth shut 
 dat time all right. But whut he don't know, don't hurt 
 him. If Sally keeps on a-doin' so good, we gwine to 
 move to de City, an' set up a swell boa'din' house. Den, 
 look out, niggers!"
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 ON the Saturday night following, which was July six- 
 teenth, 1921, Mrs. Robertson and Bob were in the sitting- 
 room studying the Sunday-school lesson for the next 
 day, the story of the conversion of Saul of Tarsus. Mr. 
 Robertson was walking up and down on the front porch 
 composing his speech for the following Tuesday. At 
 nine-thirty Mrs. Robertson called out, "Will, dear, we 
 are going to bed, will you come ?" 
 
 "No, honey, I couldn't go to sleep now. I think I 
 will wrestle with this speech an hour or so yet." 
 
 "Well, good night, darling." 
 
 "Good night, I will come before so very long." 
 
 "Good night, Papa," called Bob. 
 
 "Good night, son." 
 
 His mind recurred straightway to the speech. He was 
 filled with a sort of exaltation to think that his fellow 
 citizens had selected him to make it, especially when 
 there were present others so much more practised in 
 public speaking. A feeling of affection for the people 
 enveloped him. They trusted in him, and they were 
 fundamentally so kind, though so easily turned aside by 
 their passion or prejudice. And there came to him, too, 
 a sobering sense of his kinship with them. God grant 
 he might be able to say something that would be of 
 real value, something that would incline them away from 
 bitterness to harmony! Oh, they needed to pull to- 
 gether, to cooperate, to have respect and love for each 
 other ! 
 
 301
 
 302 White and Black 
 
 As he came to the west end of the porch, his eye hap- 
 pened to catch the road that ran to the bottom gate, and 
 his glance traveled along it to its end as it lay clear in 
 the moonshine, for the moon was nearly full. But stop ! 
 what was that at the gate? He could make out the 
 figures of horsemen one, two, three ten of them. Now 
 they were all inside the field. They were clustered close 
 together, most of them in the open roadway. They 
 seemed to be lifting their hands up to their heads. What 
 were they doing? Stay ! could it be that they were mask- 
 ing their faces? One thing was certain, they wore no 
 white robes, for such garments would have gleamed in 
 the moonshine. But what were they going to do? He 
 watched with bated breath. 
 
 They came a little way up the road, then turned to 
 their right, riding in single file down a cotton row. 
 Where could they be going? There was no house inside 
 the field in that direction except Joe Williams's. That 
 must be their destination. What could they want there? 
 They intended mischief to somebody. To whom? The 
 people at Joe's house must be warned, must be pro- 
 tected. Perhaps he might have time by running, to reach 
 there before the horsemen. He could travel in a straight 
 line; they would probably ride around the curve of the 
 cotton row. 
 
 Without pausing to get even his hat, he jumped from 
 the end of the porch to the ground, traversed the flower 
 garden, vaulted the fence, turned sharply to his left, and 
 ran at top speed. Beside the fence of the horse-lot he 
 hurried, down the hill through the cotton, across the 
 spring branch, tip the hill through the corn. He could 
 not see around him for the stalks. Would he get there
 
 White and Black 303 
 
 in time? He hadn't the breath for a shout of warning. 
 
 He emerged from the corn at Joe's back fence. 
 
 "Halt !" he heard dimly. 
 
 He paid no attention to the command, but scrambled 
 over the rail fence, ran, panting, around the house, 
 clambered up on the end of the porch, walked to the 
 middle of it in front of the shut door of the hallway, 
 and there turned to face whatever danger threatened. 
 He could not speak. 
 
 A small knot of men on foot were gathered at the 
 front gate. They were masked. One of them was call- 
 ing, "Richard, Richard Sanders, come out of there ! We 
 want you. Come out, or we will shoot." 
 
 There was no light in the house, no noise, not a whis- 
 per, not a creaking of a board under a cautious foot- 
 step. Maybe nobody was at home, or perhaps his la- 
 bored breathing dulled his hearing. He could be seen 
 but dimly. The rays of the moon could not reach him. 
 He stood in the shadow of the porch's roof. 
 
 The voice from the front gate cried, "Whoever you 
 are on that porch, you'd better git out of the way. We 
 want Richard Sanders, and we're goin' to have him!" 
 
 Mr. Robertson did not move. He could not speak. 
 
 "Watch out," cried the voice, "we are going to shoot !" 
 
 Mr. Robertson advanced to the edge of the porch. 
 Struggling for breath, he stammered, "It it is I, Will 
 Robertson." 
 
 "You are not goin' to keep us from gittin' Richard 
 Sanders this time ; git out of the way !" 
 
 "No, no, you shall not !" cried Mr. Robertson. 
 
 "Ketch him, boys ! Ketch him and hold him!" 
 
 They ran forward in a confused group.
 
 304 White and Black 
 
 The door opened. A man came out, crying, "Oh, Mr. 
 Will, Mr. Will, don't let 'em shoot in the house. Save 
 me, save me!" 
 
 "There he is now, there he is now," some one shouted 
 from the advancing throng. "Git him, git him, git the 
 damned scound'le!" 
 
 A shot rang out. 
 
 Mr. Robertson swayed, toppled, fell from the edge of 
 the porch forward, full length, face down, on the ground. 
 
 The crowd stopped. It stood still. 
 
 From it there emerged a single figure, ran rapidly the 
 few intervening steps, knelt by the fallen body, and then 
 cried out heart-brokenly, "My God, somebody has killed 
 Mr. Will!" 
 
 Then the man rose erect, tore off his mask, flung it 
 against the earth, faced around, and Harry Senter stood 
 revealed. "Who fired that shot?" he cried. "Who fired 
 it? Oh, God!" he wailed, "somebody has killed the 
 best man in the world." 
 
 He threw himself prostrate on the body. The crowd 
 melted away. "Oh, Mr. Will, Mr. Will," he sobbed, 
 "I'll find out who done it, I'll find out who done it, and 
 I'll kill him, so help me God!" 
 
 THE END
 
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