text:
Page:Awd Isaac - Castillo.djvu/20

 Ah wur at a sarten hoose yah day. An' t'awd man tiv his son did say, If all be weel, thoo mun away, Te moorn te t' kirk. An' try te git oor wreeghts next week, Te cum te woark.

An' Tommy, he's i' sike a tackin, 'At cooat 'll spoil for want o' mackin, If t' tailor's theer, thoo mun be at him, Te cum an' all; That's weel contrav'd, an' then yah thrang, 'Ll deea for all.

Thoo needn't stop te gang roond t' farm, Bud mun be theer i' reeght gud taame, Ormebby, if thoo dizzen't maand, Thoo'll loss thy chance; Ther's sumtaames three or fower at him. All at yance.

It's ower far te gang a-feeat, An' if 't be warm thoo's seer te sweeat, Thee Moother, she'll deea nought bud freeat, Seea tak awd Dragon; An' tell him he mun cum next week, An' mend oor waggon.

Then if ye chance i't' coorse o't' weeak, O't' Sunday's subject for te speeak. You'll finnd awd memory seea weeak. It's all forgitten; Thus wounded sowls 'at's beean hawf heeal'd T'awd sarpent's bitten.

title: Page:Awd Isaac - Castillo.djvu/20


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/222

 "Daddy," she said, "I would never have believed a Lauriston capable of the ungentlemanliness of opening another's letters.—Give me my letter."

Colonel Lauriston stared so wildly at the girl that she began to believe he was out of his mind.

"Give me my letter, Daddy, please."

"No!" he thundered with such vehemence that the vibration of his voice seemed to shake the wall. His face was now that of a demon. He leaned closer and closer to the girl. Her eyes never left his. He raised his hands while his eyes fixed themselves on the pale pink whiteness of her lace bound throat. His fingers moved spasmodically. Lida recalled his threat to kill.

"I've a mind to kill you—choke you to death—you—you—you—ungrateful child. I—I—I—will kill you."

He bent closer to the pillow on which Lida's head was resting. Suddenly just as he was about to lay hands on her a medallion of Lida's mother, revealed itself from beneath the enfolding lace, due to her heaving breast just as wild hands were about to clutch the throat of the girl.

Colonel Lauriston's madness turned to an expression of horror. With a cry as of great pain he snatched the medallion from about the girl's neck, snapping the ribbon that held it and strode from the room, crying, "Oh, God! that I should live to see this day." He bore the crumpled letter with him. "Oh, God, I'm mad—I'm mad! Cursed and mad!"

As the door closed behind him Lida leaped from the bed.

license: Creative Commons - Attribution Share-Alike - https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/222


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/223

When Colonel Lauriston left Lida's room he went direct to his stable whence he dispatched a messenger to Old John Marley.

"Ride, boy," he commanded. "Ride like hell and tell Old John to come to me right away."

"Yes Suh," was the boy's response as he thrust his heels into the sides of his unsaddled mount. Old John was at home, sitting on his porch, fanning himself and puffing. The ride was a little better than two miles and both horse and boy were panting at the end of the trip.

"Mistah Lauriston done tole me to come and ast you to cum tuh him right away. Sump'n very 'portant's de mattah, Suh."

"It fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh must be important to send you on his favorite horse, gallivantin' across these sands at this time of day."

"Yes Suh— yes suh," was all the boy would say.

"All right. Go down to the barn and tell that lazy Sam to hitch up and bring my buggy here."

The boy lost no time executing the order and shortly Old John was easing his heft into the buggy.

"Fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh—watch out, when I get in," he cautioned his man. "Don't let the durned thing tip over."

The servant bore down as best he could to balance the vehicle till Old John was comfortably spread over the seat. He released his grip and handed the reins to his employer then stood aside hat in hand. Colonel Lauriston's mes-

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/223


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/224

 senger was still at the stable giving his horse a rub down and a rest before starting. This horse was the boy's personal favorite and the animal seemed to respond to affection by rubbing his nose over the lad's back as the latter bent to his task. After the horse had rested sufficiently he too started on the return trip, much more slowly, however. When he passed the veranda, Colonel Lauriston and Old John were bent over, head to head. The Colonel was gesticulating wildly and talking forcefully, while Old John was all attention.

As Old John Marley listened to Colonel Lauriston quietly, the only evidence of any excitement in his flacidity was the ruddy flush showing in his face and the increasing rapidity of his breathing. From time to time he nodded his head in encouragement, or uttered a monosyllabic oath. At last Colonel Lauriston leaned back in his chair as if concluding his narrative. He had been detailing to his old friend and crony the story of his daughter and the situation he was called to face.

"To think that one of mine should have come to this," he exclaimed pathetically. "But, By God, she will not.—She will not.—She will not marry him. I'll see her dead first."

"I fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh tell you what, Park. The best plan is to marry her off to one of our boys right away. Let her fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh marry my boy—fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh Young John. You remember I've said that same thing for the past year."

"Yes, you did, John," Colonel Lauriston agreed.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/224


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/225

 "You'll have to fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh keep good watch on her to see she don't up and run off on you. Girls in love are varmintsI'll tell you.—Let Little Joe come and take care of her. She'll soon learn to like him and before long they can get married. He can guard her from running off, too."

"Oh, God, to think that it would come to this!" exclaimed Colonel Lauriston. "To think that I would have to set a watch over a child of mine to keep her from harming herself and bringing disgrace on all of us."

"It's fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh her own good, Park. Better fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh to guard her and marry her off to Little Joe than fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh have the other thing," stammered Old John Marley sententiously.

Colonel Lauriston looked long at the speaker, his disgust at the proposition causing him to writhe more and more inwardly. At last he spoke.

"John, I almost hate you." He stood and walked a short distance away then returned and continued, "but I guess I'll have to give in. Lida will balk."

"Fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh what do you fuh-fuh-tuh care? My John ain't a scarecrow."

"No.—Neither is a porpoise," Colonel Lauriston commented drily, looking at Old John's bulk. The latter merely gave a slight gesture with his hands.

"John needn't annoy her—and he won't. He'll just be around handy when she's out walking or riding."

Colonel Lauriston thought a moment then spoke. "John may not like the idea himself."

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/225


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/226

 "He'll like it well enough. He likes Lida now more than ever and will know how to manage it. Let the two run together a few days and you'll see."

"Very well," Colonel Lauriston agreed.

"He fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh wants to marry Lida and when I fuh-fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh tell him that she wants to fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh throw herself away on a nigger he'll be mad fuh-fuh-fuh-tuh enough to kill for her. You just fuh-fubfuh-fuh-tuh leave that to me."

Colonel Lauriston walked away from the man, his head bowed in silence. Old John lifted his three hundred weight from the creaking seat and waddled to his carriage and was soon driving away.

Left to herself, Lida continued in her room for the remainder of the day weeping for her lover to come to her aid. She refused all nourishment and comfort offered by her maid, Chloe. It was far into the night when she finally grew calm and her eyes closed in fitful slumber.

When she awoke the following day she was ill from worry and weeping. For a long time she lay tossing in bed, fever of anguish burning her soul. Through all her torture she revolved plans for escaping and returning to the North and Truman. She knew it was no longer possible to get a letter through, since she was convinced her father would take care that no mail left the house without his inspection.

While she was still puzzling over her predicament the maid entered the room with tea and toast. The aroma of the tea and the odor of the freshly made toast tempted her appetite.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/226


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/227

 "Thank you, Chloe," she said gratefully. "You're very kind to me."

The girl walked over to where Lida lay, looked down at her and said, "Miss Lida, I'm sorry you're sick. I wish I could help you."

Lida reached over and touched the girl's hand. "Thank you, Chloe. I do need help but you can't give it. I must find a way out myself." She buried her face in her pillow for a few moments then looked up at the girl again.

"Were you ever in love, Chloe?" she asked.

The girl dropped her head as she answered, "Yessum, Miss Lida. An' I'm goin' to git married in de fall."

"Lucky girl," Lida exclaimed. "I'm in love but don't know I'll ever marry." At this she began to weep while the maid comforted her. "Don't you cry, Miss Lida. Yore man'll cum fuh you."

"Thank you, Chloe," was all Lida could say. "Better leave me now." At the suggestion the maid gave the things on the tray a touch then glided from the room. The spasm of weeping ended, Lida dried her eyes and again being warned that she was hungry by the odor of the tea, lifted herself to her elbow and sipped from the cup prepared for her. A few sips of tea and bites of toast revived her courage and she decided to dress, then go to her cave retreat, a place she had not visited since her departure for the north the year before; a retreat to which as a child she had carried in secret all her cares and worries.

With this in mind she was soon dressed and prepared

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/227


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/228

 for walking. She descended to the first floor expecting to meet her father and another storm but he was absent. Glad of the respite from further scenes she passed to the veranda and down the steps to the drive and started toward the road. She had just reached the gate and turned toward the woods a half mile away where her brook tossed its waters over the falls when she looked up to see young John Marley approaching, hat in hand.

"Howdy, Lida.—I s'pose I should call you Miss Lida but you've always been Lida to me."

The girl paused in the middle of the white sanded road, wonder in her eyes that she should be meeting anyone so suddenly at this time in the day, a sun bonnet swinging in her hand. She resented the tone in which she was addressed; she resented also his appearing at such an inopportune time.

"I thought you were working," was her comment.

"I thought I'd pay you a call," Marley explained.

"Without being asked?" Lida queried.

"Neighbors don't usually have to ask, about here do they?"

"If they call in the heat of the day. Besides, I'm in no mood for company today, Mr. Marley." Lida started to walk on.

"Mr. Marley now, is it?" he asked. "It used to be John and Lida. I wish it could be so still."

"The wish is not mutual. Besides if you'd respect a lady's wishes and want to know what those wishes are it is to be alone."

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/228


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/229

 "Sorry, can't oblige you. I want to talk to you and this is a good opportunity."

"We've nothing in common, Mr. Marley and a gentleman will not annoy a lady with his presence when his presence is undesired. I may as well be frank with you.—Yours is."

"Well, I'm here and I'm going to have my say. I've known you ever since a boy and always liked you. I like you more now and want to marry you. Lida, I want you for my wife."

"So this is a proposal, is it? Despite objections."

"Your father doesn't object."

"No, but I do—and I'm the principal. Besides, I don't love you and never will, never could for that matter. And another thing, I'm in love with someone else. Engaged to him."

"I know all about that. You'll never marry him.—Never have a chance. No use trying.—They won't let you off this place."

"Won't let me off? Who'll stop me?" she asked as she stamped her foot angrily.

"I won't for one," Marley stated. "I'm going to watch to see you don't."

"You call that the act of a gentleman—you call that the act of love, do you?"

"Yes, it's to save you from yourself."

"Oh, you're just offering yourself as a victim to save me from marrying the one I love!" she exclaimed indignantly.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/229


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/230

 Before he could utter a word she swung her hand to his face with a resounding smack. "Take that, you insulting wretch." Marley clapped his hand to the reddening spot on his face and looked at the girl in blank surprise for a moment. In that instant Lida turned and started back for the house, realizing that to go to the cave which had been her secret place of comfort for years would be to disclose it.

As soon as Marley recovered he bounded to her side biting his lips to control his anger.

"You'll not marry me, eh—I insult you, eh? Well, you'll never marry anyone else much less your white nigger and if he comes down here we'll kill him—and you too." When Lida looked at him too indignant for words, he continued: "I know all about it. I've been told. I'll not let you out of my sight."

With her eyes blazing as with anger of an Amazon, Lida faced him and pointed down the road and across the fields to the Marley home. Neither said a word. Her lips were drawn across her teeth in such tensity of emotion as to make them bloodlessly white. Marley could withstand the gaze no longer. He turned and walked away. Lida returned to the house and her room. She fervently wished for some way to escape.

Both she and her father seemed to avoid each other for the next few days, though at night she could hear Colonel Lauriston pacing the floor of his room or the veranda till far into the night. Each time she attempted to walk about the place she soon discovered that Marley was on hand

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/230


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/231

 making good his threat. She was in despair. Worry and gloom were fast sapping her strength. At times she believed she would go mad.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/231


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/232

Orangeburg and all sections of Lexington County, by tradition, custom and every other habit-forming agency still clung to one rural institution. This was "Big Monday," the first Monday in every month. All matters were reckoned from this day. It was the day when bills were paid and contracts were renewed; when the farmers and planters went to town to sell their produce. It was also the day of horse trading.

(Sometimes night long journeys by those who lived distances away and whose means of travel were slow moving mules or oxen was the rule.) From all along the main roads leading into Orangeburg, however, according to the distances from the city, caravan after caravan, joined the procession to arrive by early morning. From every side road there streamed into the main artery teams of all descriptions city bound. Along the sides of the road as daylight approached, and the vicinity of the city was reached, could be seen various campers. Negroes and whites in their various groups, sometimes asleep, sometimes sitting by camp fires. The more wealthy of the farmers, who could afford faster vehicles, such as automobiles and fast stepping teams disdained to break their night's rest by such early starts. They all planned to be on hand during the day, however, and would never miss.

Stores made ready for a rushing business in all kinds of trade till late in the afternoon. Extra clerks were hired and counters were loaded with goods, of all descriptions.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/232


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/233

 On this day the county Court House lost its staid solemnity as if conscious of the day, also its importance. About the wide open space which surrounded it were hitched the teams of the early arrivals when the sun greeted the city with its first red rays. Negro boys, whose fathers had allowed them to accompany the ménage on the trip, as well as hired hands of planters, busied themselves excitedly feeding their charges, the sleep of an hour or so before driven from their eyes with a dash of cold water from the pump in the court yard or after a hasty ablution in some stream on the way into town. Young white boys, likewise, who had come from the rural districts with their fathers also busied themselves with their teams and made ready for a day of jollity.

Among those who had driven in the previous night and were stopping at the Planters Hotel was Professor Armstrong, browned by the hot sun in which he had been living since departing from the North at the end of his college teaching career, ended so suddenly at the faculty meeting. Since arriving in the South he had disdained to stop in the hot close city but had gone to his plantation out on the Congaree River, leaving his town house in the charge of servants. Desiring companionship and knowing that the best of the country would be at the hotel he decided to stop there over night rather than at his house.

Having retired early the night before he was among the early risers. This Big Monday crowd always had a fascination for him, even when a boy and his father used to bring him to the city. He liked to circulate among the

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/233


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/234

 planters, discuss crop conditions and banter jokes. Despite his erudition and the fact that he had espoused the profession of teaching he was still at heart a southern planter, revelling in the ways of the planter, talking cotton and corn and wheat and "nigger farm hands."

It was anticipation of this enjoyment that Professor Armstrong awoke, looked out of his window upon the day, and was glad. He was happy to whistling when taking his bath, whistling softly, however, so as not to disturb other sleepers. His toilet ended he descended to the piazza which stretched before the front of the hotel, surveyed the rows of empty chairs and stepped across the street to the various groups of farmers.

By some he was known and greeted familiarly, by others he was unknown till he made some comment on the weather, their crops or their equipage. The southern planter never stands on ceremony. Everyone speaks to everyone else and when once conversation was begun all barriers between men were down, and Professor Armstrong was soon the center of a laughing, handshaking jolly group of farmers.

After an hour or more spent in making the rounds of the courthouse, Professor Armstrong realized it was breakfast time and turned to the hotel dining room. He entered the room and was about to seat himself when his glance was directed across the room to one of the side tables where the pose of a diner presented a certain familiarity to him. He gazed for a moment, then exclaimed, under his breath, "Dr. Tansey. Well, well!" With that

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/234


text:
Page:Awd Isaac - Castillo.djvu/21

 That skull 'at's moolded green an' gray, T'awd saxton dug up t'other day, Knaws varry neear as mitch as thay O't' Sunday's sarmon; Yoo may as weel o't' subject tawk Te sum awd Jarman.

That poor awd man's noo deead an' geean, Tis hard te say what way he's teean, 'At used te stand ageean t'funt steean, Te tack fooaks watches; Whahl careless lads i't' singin pew Wur cuttin natches.

An' seea for want o' cultivation. They shuffle on withoot salvation, A vast, Ah's flay'd, 's o' this perswasion, Beeath yoong an' awd; Te be forgeean they ha' neea nooation. Till deead an' cawd.

Bud they'll finnd oot afoore't be lang, 'At they've all t' taame beean sadly wrang, Ther wills may then be ower strang, Te breeak or bend; An' noo they say they're ower thrang, They can't attend.

I' summer taame they'll leeave t'awd nest. An' driss up i' ther varry best, An' gallop off alang wi' t'rest, Te t' fair or reeaces; A vast gits what they nivver kest At sike like pleeaces.

title: Page:Awd Isaac - Castillo.djvu/21


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/235

 he stepped briskly and hospitably across the table to where the visitor sat. Touching Dr. Tansey on the shoulder as he arrived at the table, Professor Armstrong reached out his hand hospitably, at the same time exclaiming, "Dr. Tansey, Hello—I'll be durned."

Dr. Tansey turned, quickly stood and grasped the outstretched hand enthusiastically.

"Professor Armstrong. This is indeed a delight.—I didn't know you were in town.—I thought you were miles away."

Professor Armstrong smiled gladly, still holding the hand offered him. "I see, you're white. You've forgotten the way we parted."

"Forgotten?—Oh—Yes, forgotten, Oh—yes—forgotten? Oh,—I remember" slapping Professor Armstrong heartily on the shoulder. "Why shouldn't I forget? Ha-ha-ha." Both men laughed boyishly as Dr. Tansey continued. "You had an awful peeve on that day after the faculty meeting. An awful peeve over nothing. I hope you've learned to see things rightly now.—Don't suppose you have, though?"

"Can't say I have. Come over to my table."

"No, thank you. Join me here. I'd enjoy it so much. I've started my meal and you're just about to order—Join me."

"I will."

At the indication of Dr. Tansey, a waiter drew a chair and seated Professor Armstrong. The latter reverted back to the faculty meeting.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/235


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/236

 "I still can't see why white men should fight over 'niggers.' We fought over them once. I don't think they're worth bothering with to that extent any more.'more." [sic]

"Same old Armstrong!" exclaimed Dr. Tansey. "Dear fellow it's not a question of fighting over them. It's fighting for the right. And we'll always fight for the right till the right triumphs. And right will never triumph until every man, woman and child in America, regardless of race, color or creed or circumstance has a fair and a square deal. The American conscience will never let the question lie still. Might does not make right any more than two and one make five. It is this instinct of America that makes her great. The desire for and the determination to be right. America will never be right till the wrong of color prejudice is eradicated and all men get justice."

"Why bother wich them. I can't see. They're a burden to the country. They're lazy and worthless, unreliable and shiftless."

"Who made them so, if all is as you say. Where's the blame? You know, as you make the statements, however, that they are false—as false as fool's gold. Where would your wealth be if you did not have them to work your fields? If you did not have them to cheat? How long can you or would you work in the hot sun of this land to till your fields.—About two hours. You call them shiftless yet they're amassing much property despite handicaps faced by no other group. I see lots of evidences of it right around me here. You call them unreliable, they were reliable enough to take care of your lands and

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/236


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/237

 families when your fathers went to war to keep them in slavery.—No, Armstrong, your statements are all false and misleading. These people are a vast asset to the South and some day the South will realize it. Perhaps too late.

"If the South could only see it," Dr. Tansey continued, "if you could only see it you would try to make the best citizens possible out of them; encourage them to become better citizens, make their living conditions better, their health conditions better and their moral conditions better."

"Moral conditions. Ha-ha-ha. That's a joke. They have no morals."

"Tut-tut-tut. The shoe's on the other foot. And suppose they had no morals, who has set them the example for centuries?"

"The southern white man is the most moral on this hemisphere. He is the preserver of civilization—of Anglo-Saxon purity of race."

"Don't talk rashness, Armstrong. Don't talk rashness. The very complexion of your town belies you. The complexion of every southern town or city belies that statement. Don't talk balderdash."

"We protect the purity of our women," boasted Professor Armstrong.

"Yes, at the expense of the purity of another race. That is not preserving race purity. The purity of your women needs no protection, it is the purity of southern manhood that needs protection and the purity of black

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/237


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/238

 women. When out of twleve million black persons in this land more than a third of them are of mixed blood, the white southern man ought to hang his head in shame. You've not an argument to support you and the best thing to do is to set about righting the wrongs done, then conscience will be free. First set your own house in order and all things will be added."

"You're talking a lot of theories," Professor Armstrong gestured. "We, down here, are faced with the practical workings out of life. If you want to see real conditions, you have the best chance in the world today. Today is court day. Come with me. Court will just be sitting when we will have finished."

"I'll be delighted. I have often wanted to get into the midst of this question."

"All right, you'll see."

Professor Armstrong was right. By the time they finished breakfast and prepared themselves for the street, those having business with the arm of South Carolina law, as administered in Orangeburg, were just assembling. A steady stream of persons were passing through the courtyard gates and assembling in the building. Armstrong and Dr. Tansey joined them. Once in the building they continued with the crowd seeking the municipal criminal session, held in an old-fashioned high vaulted room, unchanged since the structure was first built. In fact the courthouse looked back on a very respectable antiquity of slave trading.

Almost all the seats in the already stifling, stuffy court

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/238


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/239

 were taken. Over in the corner near the "pen" Professor Armstrong sighted two vacant seats and worked his way to them, aided by one of the sheriffs.

The day was sultry, with a stagnant, drowsy, sleepy air pervading the room despite the fact that the windows were wide open. Men and women of all colors and in various stages of undress, some exuding the odor of sweaty clothes, some of tobacco smoke, filled the place. The negroes huddled into one corner, some of them, torn straw hats in their hands, trousers suspended by one string, some barefoot and others with dilapidated shoes on, while here and there in the crowd was a rather better dressed, man or woman, mulatto or black, all puffing, fanning and panting with the excitement. Dr. Tansey noted in a corner near the judge's desk a block platform and above it shackles, reminding him of the auction block of slavery days.

About them bustled a colored court runner or a lawyer looking after a client. The better class colored person was defended by some white lawyer friend, the smaller cases being attended to by men of their own race. Dr. Tansey and Armstrong had just time enough to take in the scene when a tall lanky sheriff, arose, pounded his desk and droned, "The Co'te." All who were seated stood.

Justice was speedy. Invariably, in the minor cases where whites, mostly young men, involved in brawls and small offenses, they were reprimanded, warned and freed. When all these except one or two were disposed of, the

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/239


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/240

 cases of the Negroes were called. Most of these were more trivial than the others, being accusations of loitering, vagrancy, pettit larceny and brawling. Invariably sentences of differing lengths to the chain gang were meted out to them. Appeals were useless. Usually after a woebegone look, a hopeless pleading with eyes for sympathy and leniency they were mercilessly sent to the chain gang, from where they were paroled to the various farms. Thus Dr. Tansey surmised, were the farm hands recruited.

Invariably they were allowed but a few words when asked to plead guilty or not.

"Boss, Yer Honoh," they would start, "I didn't do nothing.

"Thirty days in the gang," would be the interruption of the judge.

The court room was almost cleared of cases. In the rear of the restricted side of the room, huddled into a small group were four colored persons, one a young girl, who was weeping silently, two elderly persons, a man and a woman, and a young brown skinned youth, tall and rugged, manly and clean looking. In fact the group was in decided contrast to the prisoners making up court cases, disposition of which the two men had witnessed. At intervals the old woman would lean tenderly over the weeping girl to comfort her. The man sat grimly watching the judge, his face muscles as taut as graven images, his arms folded across his breast, a veritable Ethiopian sphinx.

The judge, a rather florid, puffing, medium sized per-

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/240


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/241

 son, wearing heavy spectacles and a scowl, eyed the group from time to time while disposing of the remaining cases. As they neared conclusion he seemed to become fidgety, seeing the two white men sitting after most of the spectators had departed. The face of Professor Armstrong was familiar but the judge was puzzled over his companion.

Professor Armstrong was waiting till court was over to introduce Dr. Tansey. The judge looked at the two men, hesitated, cleared his throat, still hesitated, then gave an order to the bailiff. This official stepped into an anteroom then returned immediately with a young white man about the same build as the young man with the girl. As this man stepped up to the bar, the judge's face cleared of its scowl and a smile played about the lips.

He looked the young man over peering at him over the rims of his glasses as he said:

"Jim Trafford, you're sowing wild oats, are you?"

The young man bowed his head and stirred sheepishly. "You are charged with assault on this girl.—Don't say you're not guilty.—I'll just fine you two dollars.—Don't get caught the next time."

He was about to hand the papers over to the clerk for the payment of the fine and the disposition of the case. The young Negro man with the girl uttered a groan, the girl herself began to cry loudly and the old woman with her to moan as she rocked back and forth. The old man's arms were still folded across his breast. He was biting his lips as the tears flowed down his cheeks. The moment was tense but the next was tense to the nerve breaking point.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/241


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/242

 The judge was about to rise from his chair when from the rear of the room a woman's voice rang out. "Just a minute, Your Honor." The judge sat erect with a snap as if jerked up by some rope. Dr. Tansey and Professor Armstrong turned quickly to note the speaker. The young woman, for such it was, was advancing toward the bar, her eyes blazing, her finger pointing menacingly at the judge. Several bailiffs started for her as if to protect the judge.

"Your Honor," she said, "do I understand that you are letting this man off with a fine on a charge of this kind. A crime against a woman of my race would be called rape. Is not this rape, also? I was in the adjoining room when this girl was attacked. I heard the threats he made and the struggle when he forced her to his will. I demand he be prosecuted as any other criminal.

"This is a court—supposedly a court of justice," she continued. "If there ever was an injustice—if there ever was a travesty—if there ever was a farce it is the way this case is disposed of."

"Are you an attorney?"

"No, I'm not. Would to God I were. I'm human, though, and I come from a section where human beings are treated like human beings and brutes like brutes regardless of color."

"Are you interested in this case?"

"Yes, I'm interested, and I'll see it through."

"Your name, please."

"Louise Comstock."

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/242


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/243

 "Well, Louise, you say you're from a different neck of the woods. I presume from the North.—Well, here's a bit of advice. Go back North to your mother's kitchen and don't go meddling in affairs that don't concern you. Court's dismissed."

With that the judge gathered his books and papers and stepped from the bench toward his room. The girl's face was flushed to the color of a blush rose with confusion and indignation at the treatment accorded her. She stood, a blaze of anger, watching the judge retire, fierce imprecations in her soul.

"You shame the name of womanhood!" was all she could venture to say. Dr. Tansey was just stepping toward her to calm her anger and advise her that her indignation was carrying her too far, when Professor Armstrong noted the girl who had been wronged.

"My God," he exclaimed. "Ione Felding!" Then he turned to Dr. Tansey. "Doctor, that's the daughter of my laundry woman. Judge—Judge—" he started for the door through which the judge had departed. "Judge," he shouted, "come back here." Then thinking of the young white man who had perpetrated the outrage, he turned to look for him. "Where's the young dog," he said. Where'ssaid. "Where's [sic] the young dog?"

Louise Comstock went over to the group of colored people. She took the girl's hand. "Never mind," she comforted, though realizing how lame and hollow the words must sound in the girl's ears. "Never mind, I'll take you away from this land where you'll have protec-

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/243


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/244

 tion." The girl was weeping freely now on her mother's shoulder. The father's tongue seemed to be freed and he was pronouncing bitter curses against the land. The scene was so distressing that Dr. Tansey felt an ungovernable desire to get away from it. Grabbing Professor Armstrong by the hand he almost pulled him to the door.

"Come on," he urged, "Let's get out of here!"

They were just in time to see the young man Trafford stepping from the gate at the end of the short walk to the sidewalk. He was smiling brightly at the successful termination of his episode. He had just reached the sidewalk, however, when there stepped from behind one of the teams hitched near, the young colored man who had been comforting the girl in the court room. Trafford looked up into the eyes of the young man with a triumphant smile and started to pass on. The young colored man stepped up to him, however, and without a word of warning struck Trafford a blow that sent him reeling against the picket fence, dazed for an instant by the surprise of the attack.

The assailant started after him again to continue the assault when a dozen men, who had been in a group nearby rushed to Trafford's aid. The young colored man saw them coming, however, and met the first to reach him with a blow that sent the rescuer also tottering away. Before the attack could be carried further, two police officers rushed in, fighting their way through the now gathering crowd and placed the colored man under arrest, rushing him through the yard of the courthouse, into the building

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/244


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/245

 and then into the nearby jail, by means of an underground passage by which prisoners were led back and forth to the court room.

By this time hundreds had gathered at the scene, curious, inquiring, wondering. Hotel corridors were emptied, stores lost their clerks and customers alike, and even some of the proprietors forsook their businesses to crowd over to the vicinity of the brief battle and arrest. In a few minutes the crowd had been augmented into hundreds.

Trafford was in the midst of them nursing a fast swelling jaw and accepting sympathy.

"What's the matter?—What's the matter?" was the question on every tongue of those who were too far on the outskirts of the crowd to know what had caused the excitement.

"Nigger assaulted a white man," answered one man to his neighbor. "They're too damned fresh. Did they kill him?" was the next question.

"No, got away—arrested," the first man spoken to answered.

"They're too durned fresh," commented another bystander.—"Gawd only knows what we're coming to. Getting so there's no living for them. They all ought to be run out of town."

"Who's the man assaulted?"

"Trafford—Jim Trafford."

"Aw—Buck Trafford's son?"

"Yes."

"Huh—Guess the boy must have been meddling 'round

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/245


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/246

 the nigger's girl. He's always doing that. Lot of the young hellions are doing that—sewing their wild oats. Guess we've all done it more or less. Pooh! That's nothin'. As long as there's a good looking nigger girl about there'll be white boys hunting for them. It's fair game too."

Such was the drift of the conversation heard by Armstrong and Dr. Tansey as they stood a little aside from the crowd studying the group.

"By God, I'll see that that thing stops," swore Professor Armstrong. "Tansey, I know that girl and her whole family. Good people too—law abiding, and bringing their children up right and according to law. Her mother's been my laundry woman and the laundry woman of my family for years.—Poor, of course, and simple—but law abiding and honest."

Dr. Tansey was tempted to say, "This is some of your southern justice and right," but remained silent.

The two men were still within the yard of the courthouse when a squad of police arrived and dispersed the crowd. There was some show of resistance for a brief time, here and there being heard mutterings of anger against the Negro, but soon the street was tranquil and the ordinary business of Big Monday resumed. Dr. Tansey and Armstrong walked across the street to the piazza of their hotel. As they neared the door they heard a group of men just leaving a store inquire of two standing at the edge of the curbing:

"What was the trouble over there?" indicating the spot

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/246


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/247

 across the street where the crowd had gathered.

"Don't know, exactly. Somebody said a nigger insulted a white woman."

"What d'you know about that!" exclaimed the first speaker. "Times are getting awful—Time to call a halt. They ought to be run out of town—Did they get the nigger?"

"Yes, he's in jail."

"Good time for a necktie party, eh—teach them a lesson."

"Hanging's too good for them. They're worthless, no good and a burden anyway. Thanks—See you later." The group separated.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/247


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/248

Dr. Tansey and Professor Armstrong had just seated themselves when they noticed, coming from the courthouse, Louise Comstock.

"I've seen that young woman somewhere but can't place her," said Dr. Tansey.

"Yes, I recognize her too—I've met her somewhere—I don't know where."

Louise inclined her head slightly as she passed them, remembering that they were in the courthouse when she made her plea. As she bowed, both men raised their hats and Dr. Tansey approached.

"Pardon me. I seem to have met you somewhere but can't say where. It was good of you to defend that poor creature today."

Louise extended her hand. "I know you. You're Dr. Tansey—at the college—and this is Professor Armstrong. I also know you. I've seen you many times while I was at Miss Gregory's school. Being but a school girl, you paid no attention to me."

"Oh, you're one of Miss Gregory's girls, are you? I was quite sure I knew you.—You're a long way from home, though, I may say.—You're not a southern girl," Professor Armstrong observed.

"My people are from the south originally but I was born North and have lived there all my life. I came South to study conditions a little this summer and was preparing to visit a friend of mine, Miss Lida Lauriston."

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/248


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/249

 Both men looked at each other but said nothing. For the time they had forgotten the existence of Lida or Bennet.

"I think I'll cut my visit very short and leave for the North tonight. I'm sick of the place. It's hot—stifling hot, and the people are so different. Conditions are so different. I'm going to protect that girl—take her with me."

"You should not allow yourself to become bothered by such things, Miss Comstock," suggested Professor Armstrong. "They're ordinary and common down here. In fact, so common that we take them as a matter of course and turn our minds to more serious things. I wouldn't let that bother me."

"Well, it does," she asserted. "I've changed my mind on a lot of things since I came South. I know a lot I never knew till now and I'm disgusted. That was a horrid thing for that man to do.—And to think the judge let him off with a fine after almost condoning the offense."

"It's a common occurrence," offered Professor Armstrong. "I admit, though, that this case comes pretty near home to me. I know the girl and her family."

"And you permit such a thing. I'm both ashamed and surprised. Where's the white womanhood of the South that it tolerates such things. I heard the whole sordid affair. I was in an adjoining room when the girl came to gather laundry for her mother.

"You should have heard her pleading with that brute." Miss Comstock's eyes filled with tears. "It was enough to

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/249


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/250

 melt a heart of stone. He threatened her with setting the mob on her for assaulting him; threatened to have her father hung and finally used force. I didn't realize what was happening till he had gone and left the girl crying. I went to her and found her in a pitiable heap. It was I who insisted on arrest. But what good did it do? They lynch colored men for far less than that."

Both men hung their heads in silence as she passed into the hotel and to her room, her eyes still filled and overflowing with tears. The street had entirely regained its serenity now and the sun was high in the heavens. Dr. Tansey was the first to break silence.

"Let's have luncheon," he said. Professor Armstrong was agreeable and the two men passed into the dining room. Following the meal each passed to his room for a nap, as is the custom in the South during the heated portion of the summer days, at least for those who have the leisure. It was late in the afternoon when Professor Armstrong, freshened from his sleep and a bath, knocked on Dr. Tansey's door.

"Awake, Doctor?" he asked.

"Yes, come in," the Doctor invited.

"Hope you're rested."

"Feeling fine."

"Doctor," began Professor Armstrong. "I've been thinking over things since I left you and believe I'm beginning to see them differently. This affair of Ione Felding's this morning came pretty close home to me. Man, I've known that family ever since I could toddle. Her

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/250


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/251

 older sister, who's married is just about my age.—Ione is younger."

"She certainly was a pathetic bit of humanity, there in the court room this morning."

"Yes, she was, and the way those eyes of hers appealed to me in their dumb brown helplessness when she saw me! I tell you, Man, I'll never forget them. Trafford didn't get half what he deserved from that fellow."

"What can you do about it now?"

"There's nothing to be done about it now. But I'm beginning to believe that conditions that permit such things with such ease are not right."

"Keep on. That's Old Man Conscience working on you. Follow him and he'll set you right too."

"No, I think it's the personal interest I have in the girl."

"Old Man Conscience, just the same," Dr. Tansey shook his head sadly. "He won't let you rest nor will he let the American people rest till right is right and justice and fairness obtain for all.—Now you can understand why men battle for right. Once get Old Man Conscience to work and give him any sort of free play then any question is safely solved."

The sun was now hanging far over in the western sky and evening approaching. From the window of the room in which the two men sat could be seen the tall cold angular stone and masonry jail, across the other house tops, with its iron-barred windows standing out in bold relief, cutting a vivid outline in the otherwise crimsoning

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/251


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/252

 sky. Dr. Tansey looked from the window to the jail. The eyes of Professor Armstrong followed his.

"And to think," continued the latter, "That poor fellow cooped up somewhere in there for trying to protect his own."

"Keep on, keep on, Conscience—you're gaining," thought Dr. Tansey, though he made no comment.

Before he could frame any satisfactory comment a bellboy rapped on the door and reached in with the afternoon papers. Dr. Tansey took one in a casual manner, offering another to Professor Armstrong.

"What an infernal lie!" exclaimed Dr. Tansey. "What a hellish, fiendish lie!"

Professor Armstrong looked from his paper to the face of the Doctor, waiting for explanation. Dr. Tansey held the paper he was reading toward his friend.

"Look at that.—Look at that!"

Professor Armstrong glanced at the publication held before him. In glaring head lines letters fully six inches deep, fairly screamed the words:

Then followed a harrowing story purporting to tell of the assault. Dr. Tansey began reading the narrative indignantly.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/252


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/253

 "One of the most brutal and dastardly assaults ever committed occurred shortly before noon today when a burly Negro assaulted a white girl on Main Street. The assault was witnessed by hundreds of people on the street at the time and was considered the most daring outrage of the kind in the history of the city.

"The girl, according to bystanders, was walking along the street when the burly brute, much the worse for drink, sauntered up to her and insolently demanded that she accompany him. Upon her indignant refusal, the Negro is said to have seized her forcibly and when she resisted with all her might, is said to have struck her a stunning blow in the face. She screamed and a dozen white men rushed to her aid. The Negro leaped nimbly over the courthouse fence and was making good his escape when two police officers captured him.

"The crowd following sought to lay their hands on the brute but the officers managed to enter the courthouse and take the brute to jail by way of the underground passageway by which prisoners are brought to court. For a time rioting was imminent and several innocent Negroes were attacked in revenge. A squad of police soon arrived, however, and dispersed the crowd.

"Since noontime, however, all Orangeburg citizens have been aroused and plans are being made to demand the prisoner from the authorities. There are also muttered threats that the entire Negro section will be wiped out tonight. The police are to double their guard about the jail since they have been warned of what is being planned.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/253


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/254

 They claim to have the situation well in hand. All Negroes are warned to keep within doors and to be meek, and are warned not to be caught on the street with firearms. Effort is being made to disarm all suspicious blacks."

"Now, what do you think of that?" exclaimed Dr. Tansey. "Of all outrages! There's a case of inciting to riot, if ever there was one. And they call that journalism. Telling a damnable lie, then feeding the fires of hatred and outlining mob action. All for the sake of selling more papers. The presses ought to be torn down.—America, when will you be right?"

Professor Armstrong was studying the story and picturing what might follow.

"Yes," he admitted. That'sadmitted. "That's [sic] certainly sowing the dragon's teeth, all right—sowing them with a vengeance too. Newspapers are great teachers but they are also to blame for much of the wrong in this country. They certainly shape mob psychology."

"Anything's likely to happen now," exclaimed Dr. Tansey. "But to think how unjust is the story. How utterly reversed are the facts.—And who has sought to get facts? Not even the newspaper. Armstrong, I don't see how your colored population endures down here. I don't see why they don't all pack up and leave you flat."

"Oh, they know they have friends down here," was Professor Armstrong's reply. "There are some white men down here still who stand for right and will fight for it in defense of their blacks. The better class whites don't

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/254


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/255

 read a paper like this and they don't approve of the wrongs done to black people. They'll arise and assert themselves sometime. Give them time.—Give them time."

"Meanwhile all manner of hell's to pay, eh? If there starts a riot tonight where will your better class whites be? Safe in their homes. If a Negro is caught armed, he'll be shot down. White rioters will be given every freedom for sway of their bestiality, however. They will be able to shoot down Negroes with impunity."

"Oh, don't be so hard on us, Old Man. We're not all bad."

"That's true, Armstrong. Pardon me. I forgot. Let's go down to the piazza. Perhaps I exaggerate."

Suiting action to words the two men descended. The piazza was crowded. Twilight was fast coming on, and here and there a star began twinkling in the red gold sky. Along the streets preparations were being made to light lamps, while Negro workers, were hurrying to their homes, anxious, worried looks on their faces, fear in their hearts. They had been warned by the police and were eagerly heeding the warning. There was an ominous silence enveloping the city. Hotel guests as well as others seemed to sense it. Few words were being spoken and these in undertones from neighbor to neighbor. Everyone was restless, the very air was depressing and mysteriously heavy.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/255


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/256

Along the street, as darkness closed in, a light flashed here and there from post to post. In the square, about the courthouse the electric lights sputtered and spifft, flickering intermittently till the carbons had adjusted themselves, as the current was turned on, until finally the entire square was a brilliant blaze. Now a lone horseman passed galloping down the main thoroughfare, sitting stiffly in the saddle, his hat down low over his forehead. Shortly he was seen to return accompanied by another horseman. Two police officers in uniform passed along the front of the hotel swinging their night sticks, also silently. The sun had now gone and the stars were out, the milky way showing almost so brightly with its sprays of stars, as to seem to cast a shadow along the street.

Now groups of silent figures were seen walking past the hotel. Most of them went in the same direction. Again there passed several more horsemen, all silent. Singly and in pairs some of the guests at the hotel who were sitting on the piazza arose and either entered the hotel or sauntered down the street in the direction the other walking groups had taken.

Dr. Tansey turned to Professor Armstrong. "Professor, there's something mysterious in the air. I feel it."

"So do I—something uncanny. I don't like it. It's almost ghostly. Ever hear southern ghost stories?"

"No."

"Well, they tell many a one about here.—Make your

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/256


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/257

 hair stand on end, some of them.—Stories of old Civil War days, or pre-slavery days. The blacks used to tell them to me and I tell you they made me feel creepy. That's just the way this night is making me feel."

Suddenly from down the street in the direction in which the crowd had gone there rang out on the night air a shot. All the air was quiet for a second except for the echo of the shot reverberating across the night sky. Those remaining on the piazza keyed their senses to the situation, listening expectantly. Two more shots in succession and then a fusilade greeted them. At that Professor Armstrong leaped to his feet:

"My God!" he whispered. "A lynching."

Dr. Tansey also leaped up, still listening. The minds of both men were filled with events of the morning. "This must not be. That man is innocent, Armstrong. Innocent," he exclaimed, catching the purport of Professor Armstrong's words and realizing the truth of them. "We must stop them before it is too late. Come, Armstrong."

"Hold on a minute," warned Armstrong. "We'd better not get mixed into this thing."

"Get mixed into it. Man, you know the truth. All this comes from that paper's story."

"Yes, but you don't know the temper of a southern mob."

"Where're your best men now? They ought to be heading this thing off. Get a few of them from somewhere. Do something! Do something! Come on!"

"Wait a minute. If you must go, better be armed. You

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/257


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/258

 can't tell what'll happen," cautioned Professor Armstrong. "Have you a revolver?" Reaching into his rear pocket Professor Armstrong drew from its holster a blue steeled six-shooter. "Here, take this. I'll get one from my room. Wait for me."

"Hurry then, we may be too late as it is."

Professor Armstrong was gone but a matter of seconds but it seemed like ages to Dr. Tansey. They were the only persons remaining on the piazza now. While waiting for Professor Armstrong's return, Dr. Tansey's mind travelled over miles of distances and there flashed before his memory many scenes through which he had lived, reviewing them with a vividness never before known to him. They all traced in succession to the present time, ending with the picture of this man being strung up to a tree, his life sacrificed to the mob spirit, an innocent victim of their fury. Though impatient for Professor Armstrong to join him there was no trace of excitement in his system, every act, every thought, every motion of muscle was impressively deliberate.

"Hurry!" he urged as Professor Armstrong returned.

Down the street they started following the direction in which the crowd had gone. They had but reached River Street when they ran headlong into a mass of seething, rushing, scrambling humanity. Where had all these people come from so silently and in such numbers. There were young men, old men, middle aged men, women, girls and boys in the crowd which was now for the first time showing signs of boisterousness. To Dr. Tansey the

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/258


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/259

 picture was like that of some seething cauldron boiling and bubbling, with masses of substance being churned to the surface then disappearing, reappearing and again disappearing. Dr. Tansey strained his eyes to see if he could detect the man with the prisoner. He could not.

"To the courthouse! To the courthouse!" was the advice being passed from mouth to mouth as the crowd surged on. Far back in the midst of the crowd could be seen two horsemen seemingly bearing a burden between them.

"We'll set them a lesson. Teach them their places. Show them who's master here." These and other words were uttered from time to time as the crowd surged on. Dr. Tansey gripped tightly the arm of Professor Armstrong lest the two become separated in the crowd, and were half swept along with the van of the mass to the courthouse. At the gate, the few who seemed to be directing the mob, paused, two on each side. Dr. Tansey and his companion stepped into the yard, not caring to be in the midst of the mob when action really started.

"Make way! Make way!" the two leaders urged motioning for opening of a path between the mass of humanity through which the prisoner could be brought into the yard. From one of these Dr. Tansey and Armstrong heard the story of the capture of the prisoner. The jailer made some resistance but a few shots fired over the prison brought him to terms and the keys were surrendered. There had been no trouble.

"Isn't a jailer sworn to protect his prisoner?" asked Dr. Tansey.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/259


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/260

 The man addressed turned a long look of surprised inquiry at Dr. Tansey. After a long scrutiny he asked: "Protect a nigger prisoner? Who ever heard of such a thing."

Before any reply could be made the two men walking the prisoner between them came down the human aisle. The boy's eyes were wide and staring with fright. One white man on each side grasped an arm firmly. The boy looked pleadingly from one face to another as he passed. There was no pity there. They spat at him instead. Some kicked at him front and rear. Some tried to strike him. As the leaders made a circle about him under a tall elm with wide overhanging branches, Dr. Tansey heard the boy say, in prayer, "Oh, God. You know I'm innocent. Save me."

Dr. Tansey was jostled away before he could hear more. He had satisfied himself, however, that this was the same youth he had seen in the courthouse in the morning. To confirm his conclusion he turned to Professor Armstrong, "That's the same young man?" he asked. Professor Armstrong replied in the affirmative by nodding his head. Before more could be said a sea of twisted, leering, white faces closed in about the group. Exultant, blood-hungry yells, menacing and terrible rang in the prisoner's ears. Fiery eyes now glared at him, shrill, raucous voices cursed him and hands seeming like long bony talons seemed to reach for his throat.

"Get a rope.—Get a torch.—Get a light'ood knot," were directions shouted. Dr. Tansey could stand no more.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/260


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/261

 He mounted the steps of the courthouse near which he stood, looked over the madly yelling crowd which was fast getting from under control of the leaders.

"Men," he's houted. For a moment his voice attracted them and there was a hush. He seized the advantage. "That man is innocent," he shouted.

"The devil he is. We know. The papers told the story. We know." They shouted him down. He tried again. "That man is innocent," he shouted at the top of his lungs. They paid no heed to him.

"Lynch him. Lynch him," shouted a hundred voices. "Burn him. Burn him like the dog he is," shouted others. The crowd had now become one struggling, seething mass. Men with ropes had arrived. Insanity reigned. Into the very midst of the raging group sprang Dr. Tansey, revolver drawn. Professor Armstrong, now having concluded to help the youth followed the Doctor. They fought their way to the side of the youth. A dozen hands were reaching for the rope which was now about the young man's neck, eager to swing him into eternity. Four hands grabbed it.

"Don't touch that rope," commanded Dr. Tansey, his eyes blazing, his revolver drawn. The action was so sudden and surprising the four men drew back for a second. Other hands, however, grabbed the rope. Recovering from their surprise the four men rained blows on Dr. Tansey, under which he was falling when he suddenly clutched the trigger of his revolver. As he shot, the body of the boy was pulled high into the air. A hundred shots

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/261


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/262

 rang out and the body was riddled with bullets, by those without the inner circle.

While they were shooting the body full of bullets, four men were beating Dr. Tansey to the ground. Professor Armstrong grabbed the falling man and pushed the crowd back. The mob was blood-mad by now and cared not whom it seized. Professor Armstrong was now fighting to save his friend, forgetting the riddled body swinging back and forth from the limb of the tree, neck broken and life gone. He was just in time to drag the sinking body of Dr. Tansey to safety when he heard a screeching and screaming on the outskirts of the crowd.

Professor Armstrong paused in the act of laying the body of Dr. Tansey on the ground to see what the new commotion was about. As he raised himself, an unearthly weird and mournful screech greeted his ears.

"Save me! Save me!" screamed a woman's voice. It was Mailie Felding, elder sister of Ione, who, nearing childbirth, could not rest at home, feeling that some awesome thing was happening. Following the crowd from the jail at some distance, she paused transfixed with fright and terror at the courtyard to witness the lynching—and had been discovered by some of the mob.

"Here's another nigger," they shouted. "Lynch her. Lynch the minx, before she gives birth to another brute," they shouted noting her condition.

Professor Armstrong saw the wild look on the girl's face but recognized who she was. "By God, they'll never do that monstrous thing," he murmured.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/262


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/263

 "Save me. Somebody save me. I ain't done nothin'. Help! Save me!" she screamed.

"I'm coming, Mailie," Professor Armstrong answered as he plunged fighting now like a demon, into the mob. He was shooting as he came. Man after man fell. He paused not to see whether they were dead or only wounded. His revolver, however, was soon emptied. He struggled on using the weapon as a club. He reached the girl but before he could lay a hand on her she swooned away and he was knocked unconscious.

Up her body was jerked with a snap that broke the spinal cord with a loud noise. Those who had been fighting Professor Armstrong, now madly called for a rope for him. He was still unconscious from the blow when a rope was pulled about his neck and about to be thrown over a limb also. In that moment, however, one of the leaders cuffed the men who were pulling the rope. "That's a white man. Durn you. Don't you see." He swung his fists right and left, at the same time repeating, "That's a white man. That's a white man." His blows and his words finally penetrated into the brains of the attackers and they allowed the rope to be pulled down from the limb of the tree. The man who rescued Professor Armstrong carried him along up the courthouse steps and into the corridor of the building. There he left the unconscious form and again joined the mob which had by now lost all semblance of sense. They were trampling all over the spot, pushing, jostling and fighting. As they swayed, a hundred feet passed over the body of Dr. Tansey,

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/263


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/264

 where he lay unconscious on the ground, crushing the remaining life out of his body.

"Burn the niggers out. Burn the niggers out. Kill them all," shouted the mob as they ran cheering and screaming from the courtyard. Across the city toward the Negro section they headed. By some unknown circumstances all the lights in the district were extinguished. Toward the section came the mad mob, now hundreds strong. As the outskirts of the district was reached and some of the smaller dwellings, mere shacks and shanties, were being torched the police seemed to have now awakened to the situation. The sheriff, when overpowered and his keys taken, immediately called for the Mayor. This man was away. He then telegraphed to Columbia, the state capital, for aid. The Governor had ordered the nearest troops to the scene. The police were battling half heartedly with the mob and frightened Negroes were running here and there for shelter from their burning homes. As they ran those in front of the mob, by the light of the burning building were shooting at them. Luckily no one was hit.

Suddenly from one of the shacks there burst a small mountain of flame, shooting high into the air and close to the front fringe of the mob. "Gasolene!" shouted someone, in warning. The word passed along. "Gasolene." This had the effect of awing the crowd and before they could recover the police seized the opportunity and drove them back still further. This explosion seemed to sober the crowd and it was not long before the police had persuaded them to retire.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/264


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/265

 This gasolene storage was the first barrier reared by the Negroes to protect their property. A little further in, where the better class dwellings were located a number of them, heavily ermed had gathered, determined to sell their souls and their property at as great a cost to the attackers as possible. A race war impended. Luckily the inspiration of the gasolene warning had sufficed to sober the crowd and they were slowly dispersed.

Back in the courthouse Professor Armstrong awoke to consciousness to find a death-like stillness pervading. He was puzzled. He felt at his side a cold wall. He tried to think where he was, finally recalling the mob and its struggle. From his proximity to the wall he thought he must be in some vault, because of his lameness, left for dead. He felt above him but could touch nothing. He reached to his other side and touched only empty space. Finally he raised himself to his hands and knees then decided to follow the wall to its end. He brought up against a blank wall as he went forward. He decided to try the other direction. As he turned his hand came into contact with a rope. He dropped it with a shiver. After crawling some distance he detected a streak of light. Coming to this he felt about and discovered a door. Raising himself to a standing position he touched a knob, turned it and opened the door. The glare of the street light dazzled him for a moment. He blinked then stepped out.

A cold shiver ran up and down his spine as he looked down and saw the rope, stretching from his body to the floor, a noose end about his neck. He suddenly remem-

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/265


text: Page:Ran away from the Dutch; or, Borneo from south to north (IA cu31924023893609).pdf/264


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/266

 bered all then. "My God, what a narrow escape!" he exclaimed. "Great God! And to think that this is America—that this is the South." He cast his eyes to the left but turned them quickly away sickened at the view. The two bodies, that of the boy and his sister, still swung from the elm limb. He closed his eyes, his knees sagging. He recovered himself, shortly. Then thought:

"Where's Dr. Tansey." With the question he recalled with vividness the fighting and the fact that he had borne the stunned body of the Doctor to the side of the courthouse. He turned his face in that direction then fainted dead away. Dr. Tansey's body lay stretched out, the clothing a mass of rags and tatters. All life crushed out, flesh and clothing enmeshed in gore, with the trampling of many feet—an horrible sight.

The view overwhelmed—sickened him. The horrible truth of the gruesome tragedy enveloped him and he was unable to stand. He slowly sank to a sitting position on the steps, his head cupped in his hands. He was too dazed and misery-stricken to think for a time. All he could see was the wretchedly mangled body of what was once his friend. A great pain gnawed with slow agony at his heart. He wanted to weep but tears would not come; just this deadly hurtful pain in his breast and the horrible pictures of the past few hours burning themselves into his consciousness.

For many minutes he sat mute, no sign of activity about him save the slight rustling of the leaves in the trees. He dared not look up, for even at the suggestion of the lift of

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/266


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/267

 his head, there flashed before his mind the swaying lifeless bodies of two innocent blacks. Without seeing them he knew they were there—and one was a woman; a woman who had grown up with him and though of another color, in their childhood days had been friend and playmate.

"Oh, God," he groaned, his head still in his hands. "I'll go mad—mad—mad. Take the sight from me. Take them away." His answer was creaking ropes or swaying limbs. With the plea his hand swayed in the general direction of the bodies though his eyes were still closed. At the motion of his hand something rubbed against his knee and across the back of the hand which still held his chin. He opened his eyes only to close them with a shudder. The rope by which he also had nearly been snatched before his Maker was still about his neck. He shuddered and trembled like the leaves above him. His brain was in a fever. An unearthly stillness pervaded the courtyard and the entire square.

He lost complete idea of time and knew not how long he sat in that position till the bell in the tall steeple of the white church at the head of the square boomed out the midnight hour. The slow ponderous strokes added to the weirdness of the situation. Professor Armstrong staggered to his feet, opened his eyes then quickly covered them again as if to shut out the sight but the impression was so indelibly burned on his mind that even with eyes shut the cadaverously stretched bodies and their ghastly

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/267


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/268

 swaying were as vivid to him as if the bright sun of daylight was shining upon them.

After a few minutes' struggle he mastered his nerves and again opened his eyes. He started down the steps, the rope pulling behind him. Frantically, fear in his heart, he gripped and snatched it from about his neck and hurled it from him where it fell on the dew-wet grass. He staggered down the steps and started for his hotel. The exertion was too much for him, darkness came to his widely staring eyes and oblivion into his mind. The last conscious moment he recalled afterward was an impression he had of falling over a steep precipice—falling—falling—falling!

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/268


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/269

It was long after daybreak when the police relaxed their vigilance in guarding the Negro district. There were still smouldering flames in the small area which had been burned. Despite the fact that all seemed quiet and as if nothing had occurred, those of the colored population who usually were astir before this hour and on their way to their places of work refused to leave their homes.

In the downtown section, not a Negro could be seen and the whites began to awake to the awfulness of the situation. Like a bad conscience on the morning after there was feeling of remorse in some. Most of those who had taken part in the mob, however, and their friends began to visit the scene of their diabolical outbreak. There was no remorse in them, however. They were prompted by sheer curiosity. The newspapers carried stories of the night's work but not the whole story. There was no mention of Dr. Tansey or Professor Armstrong. The parts they played came out later.

For the most part the crowd gathered on the sidewalk, leaned against the railing and gazed at the swaying bodies and the two lying on the grass—the one that of Dr. Tansey, the other that of Professor Armstrong. They believed that all four bodies must have been those of Negroes.

"I thought we lynched only two niggers," remarked one to a bystander.

"So did I. There are four bodies, though."

"I only remember two," said a third.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/269


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/270

 One spirit, bolder than the others, now that the sun was shining, started for the gate. "I want a piece of that rope for a remembrance. I'll show it to the next one of them that gets fresh with me."

"So do I.—So do I.—Me too," various others repeated as they followed the leader into the yard preparing to cut ends from the dangling ropes. They had each secured a piece of the rope and started for the gate again when, as they were passing the body of Professor Armstrong, the latter regained consciousness, opened his eyes, turned over and started to rise. With a yell of fear the four souvenir hunters tossed their bits of rope into the air and ran.

Professor Armstrong staggered to his feet, looked wildly at the retreating four as they broke through the crowd, then cursed them.

"Cowards—brutes that you are. Run, you curs who call yourselves men—white men at that. Behold your work, and but for Providence I might have been one of them, pointing to the general direction of the three bodies. You don't know what you've done. Killed three innocent persons, one of them white, just to please your greed for blood.

"Behold your work, you beasts. You've killed a white man.—A real man—as well as two absolutely innocent human beings. God will curse this town for this as He will curse this whole land unless you change."

With that he strode toward the gate. The crowd, in awe, stood aside to allow a path through which he walked.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/270


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/271

 Professor Armstrong crossed the street, haggard and hollow-eyed from his experiences, and made for his hotel.

"There's a white man's body over there in that yard," he said to the clerk at the desk, pointing to the courthouse. "A white man killed by that mob last night. Get the body to some undertaking place."

Orangeburg awoke in a remorseful mood. When the better families, whose domestics had been frightened into hiding during the night while the rioting was at its height, failed to show up for work the first realization of what had happened came to them. When their morning paper recounted the wild happenings of the night before and the barbarity of the scenes they came to a greater realization. When, however, an extra edition was cried into their faces, announcing that one white man had been accidentally killed by the mob, his body trampled on and mangled, the horror of the affair sank into their souls.

It was well toward noon before the bodies were cut down and removed from the courtyard. Not until after Judge Gauvin had come to hold court and viewed the remains. When he stood at the gate, about to enter, with the crowd of morbid spectators gaping at the still swaying bodies, he realized that the man and woman were innocent also that he knew in his heart where the guilt lay, he hung his head, after ordering the bodies removed.

His self control was so shaken by the gruesomeness of the sight that he had recourse to his closet for stimulant, which he always kept on hand. The body of Dr. Tansey had been borne away early in the morning, soon after

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/271


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/272

 Professor Armstrong had notified the clerk. All day, however, there was a continual crowd passing and repassing the spot, souvenir hunting, or just morbidly curious. The bodies of the Negroes were turned over to relatives who prepared them for burial. As if in remorse, some of the white families sympathetically offered the stricken ones aid in their bereavement. But for the remainder of the city business proceeded as if nothing unusual had occurred. Trafford was hurried out of town by his family when it became noised about that he had been the indirect cause of the tragedy.

Rev. Father Winsor Buntin in his little country parish, as he read the story recalled the meeting with Dr. Tansey in Charleston. His heart was heavy. He bowed his head in meditation sitting in front of the little mission that had been his home as well as the center of his work.

As he pictured the scene, he murmured, tears filling his eyes: "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do. How can men be so cruel," he thought. "So brutal! I must hurry into town. He was a stranger in a strange land. I'll pray for the repose of his soul."

Arriving at Orangeburg, Father Buntin hurried to the hotel and from there learned of the plans for the funeral. Learning from Professor Armstrong that the body was to be shipped North after a few simple exercises, he requested that he be allowed to conduct the services.

"Gladly, Father. I was wondering whom I could get to conduct the services."

Professor Armstrong's legs were still shaky from his ex-

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/272


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/273

 periences and the shock of them. His hair had turned white almost over night. His eyes were haggard and hollow.

"I don't know whether I can stand the shock of the services yet or not, Father. I am still weak."

"Yes, I know.—I'm glad you were spared, my son. I hope this will soon stop and the country get back to normal."

Louise Comstock passed them by, heavily veiled. She had not been able to get away from the town with the girl she was protecting before the tragedy swooped down on them. As she passed them, Professor Armstrong stepped to her and touched her lightly on the arm.

"I have a clergyman who will conduct the services, Miss Comstock."

"I'm so glad—so glad!"

She bowed as Professor Armstrong nodded in the direction of the clergyman. "What a terrible affair! What a cruel land!" She began to weep as she spoke. Professor Armstrong and Father Buntin consoled and comforted her.

"As soon as plans can be made after the funeral, I shall take the girl and the body North. I have wired his people," she said when she had recovered. "I also notified them of the accidental death and stated that the body was coming home. What a horror!"

Louise's eyes again began to fill. She hastily passed inside the hotel. Professor Armstrong returned to the clergyman. The following day the little chapel in which

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/273


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/274

 the funeral of Dr. Tansey took place was crowded. Remorse was now truly gnawing at the heart of Orangeburg and there came to the chapel men and women who would never otherwise have given such an event a thought.

There was no music for the ceremony. Light from the sun stole through the crevices between the shutters which darkened the room. Fr. Buntin was just about to begin the funeral services when from the yard adjoining the chapel there sounded in the ears of the audience the voice of a Negro domestic singing one of the Spirituals. Every heart seemed to cease beating. No one scarcely breathed. The voice was melodic, tender, and minor in tone, as if sensing that death was in the room and tragedy in the heart. The words seemed to glide from the lips as the rich sweet-toned soprano voice sang:

Instinctively as the voice died away into silence every head in the audience drooped to the breast. Not an eye but filled with tears and not a heart but swelled with pain of sorrow and grief.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/274


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/275

 "Let us pray," said Father Buntin. "Oh, God," he said, "In the midst of life we are in death, as thou knowest. In the midst of darkness we are in light; in the midst of the false we are in truth. Teach us by this death to know life; to know light and to know truth. Men blinded by passion, ignorance and filled with hatred are incapable of seeing thy light, thy life and thy truth. Forgive those at whose hands one of thine own image has been sent to thy bar. May they learn to regret their actions and turn from those ways by which they have broken thy commandment, Thou shalt not kill' Teach them thy way, which is the right way, Oh, God. Teach them that men are men, created by you, endowed with thy spirit and that since they gave no life they must not be guilty of taking life. Grant this, Oh God, and lead us into better ways where we may always stand for thy glory till life is everlasting. Amen."

As the prayer ended again there stole through the latticed windows the lone voice singing:

As the song ended, Father Buntin arose and stepped to

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/275


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/276

 the head of the coffin. "My friends," he said. "This is a very sad task. Sadder than most of us realize. To be taken off in the prime of life before completing the things we have set out to do, is unfortunate. Far more unfortunate, however, is it to be sent to an untimely death as this man has been sent.

"His was a noble heart.—A heart well placed—a Godly heart. I had the opportunity of knowing him a few short weeks ago under circumstances that stamped him as one of God's few in these days of moral cowards. Had he lived he would have been a power for good. Perhaps, however, his death may serve the end for which God intended his life. This death and that of two other beings killed by mob fury ought to serve to point the way toward which we are fast heading unless we call a halt. Anarchy and ruin are just over the fence.

"I warn you, one and all. Let this death be a lesson to you. You have long been playing with a torch and it is a wonder that you have not set the entire country on fire from it. Once started there is no telling where it will end. Think, friends, members of this parish as well as members of the whole South. I wish my voice could carry into every hamlet in this wide land. The Ku Klux is raging and lawlessness reigns rampant. This is the most lawless country in the world with more than eight thousand homicides in every year, recorded. God knows how many are unrecorded.

"Think, men and women. Think. Thought is law and law is thought in control. When we think we cease to be

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/276


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/277

 beasts. And all are forced to admit that we have been beasts. Think what an example of brute force we set for those about us. We have the law in our hands. We have the constabulary, the courts and all the machinery of civilization in our hands. What is there to fear that we must always resort to force? We are supreme. Cannot we set the example by Christian living, by Christian law and judgments. What can we expect but brute force from a lowly people when we are the greatest, most inhuman, brutes of all.

"We ruin their women at will. We flog and kill them at will. Picture the scene a few days ago when a poor wretch, who has now been proven to be innocent was strung up and disemboweled by a mob gone insane as the mob went insane that slew the victim lying before us. Think of human beings, members of a civilized race clamoring and fighting with one another, men, women and children, for strands of rope by which poor innocent souls have gone to death at our hands. Who is the brute, I ask? Who is the brute? What must be the feelings of those of their race who look on from behind walls of fear and trembling and see a supposedly civilized Christian people become such beasts.

"Until our civilization turns back to God and realizes that there is no expediency, no honor, no excuse in or for racial hatred, injustice and the rule of might, we shall never have a real civilization and we shall still be living example to all the remainder of the world, of hypocrisy, farce and sophistry. We are all hiding behind a color

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/277


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/278

 cloud. Behind a theory, that might makes right, and justice—is what we choose to make it!

"Come out, Oh, America! Come out, Oh Land of the South! In any great human cause some blood must be shed to impress the people with the seriousness and the righteousness of the cause. Therefore the death of this honorable, noble man, if it serve the proper purpose will awaken us to a greater consciousness of the evil we have reared in our midst; to quicken our consciences to the dangers that surround us; this death has come to show us the will of God, to point the way to better living for us all.

"We owe these people a duty we have never thought of paying. We owe ourselves a protection from the menace of anarchy and ruin. Far better it would have been if, after the war of secession we had turned our efforts to making them into good citizens rather than to have tried so hard to enslave them again. We have never done right by them and it is not to their discredit that they have come so far and done so well under the circumstances. Rather has it been to the great discredit of the South that we have sought to keep a people virtual slaves when the God of the Universe had ordained it otherwise. We have not played the game fairly. It is time that we should.

"How much better it would be if we had set ourselves to the task of educating this people into the ways of civilization; if we had started and kept going, schools for their education, settlement houses for turning them into better citizens, and teaching them the laws of health and clean

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/278


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/279

 living. We have cast aside, because of a blind prejudice, a vastly potential force that if directed properly would have made this, our South blossom as a garden of paradise.

"It is time we turned about in our ways. It is time we considered these matters in relation to our own existence. We have been possessed of a blinding madness. If by the death of this noble man we are taught to see the light, and our conscience can be awakened, then I say, God be praised. Amen!"

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/279


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/280

Bennet was full of curiosity as to the old town as he looked about on his arrival at Orangeburg with Dr. Tansey, but was also impatient to arrive at his destination. There seemed to be some urgent appeal forcing him on. With this urge on him he secured an automobile and started for the country. Just out of Orangeburg, on the road north, after he had gone not more than a few miles, he came to a swollen stream, called Long Branch, flowing rapidly toward the Edisto.

There was a long foot bridge over this and there had been a temporary bridge for automobiles. For most of the traffic that crossed it, however, there was no bridge; horses, mules and vehicles were forced to wade through. Most southern streams, no matter how small, run through wide swampy areas. Sometimes these streams are shallow at their deepest, while for half mile on each side water may be flowing in the same direction, making a very wide stream but very shallow and clear.

Long Branch was such a stream. On either side of the main channel for a half mile or more, through patches of swamp growth bamboo, and palmetto, there raced over the sand and mud the waters of this stream. In dry seasons the stream narrowed to the main channel, and automobiles could be driven across. At every freshet, however, the stream became swollen and impassable save for horses or high wheeled vehicles.

Bennet's chauffeur, coming to this stream and seeing its

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/280


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/281

 swollen, rushing width, drove along till the water was almost awash with the hubs then reversed his levers and started for the shallows again.

"Where're you going?" asked Bennet showing impatience.

"Can't go through there, Mister."

"Why you were almost half through then, I could see the other bank."

"Yes, but that was just where the stream was deepest. It would have been over the motor before long."

"Too bad.—Can't we hurry?"

"Have to go 'roun, State Road way."

"How far?"

Bout ten miles."

Bennet groaned inwardly but sank back into his seat. The machine purred its way along the State Road, when once that was reached, and Bennet was content to watch the panorama as field after field of crops passed in one long kaleidoscopic view. This road took Bennet far over by way of Fort Motte, over the long, red, clay hills and winding roads between muddy fields of staple cotton and swaying corn. Here and there was a group of huddled dwellings about which little black, brown and yellow children played, while their elders were to be seen in the fields, hoeing the cotton or ploughing corn. Beyond Fort Motte the roads became sandy and slow for motor vehicles.

It was late in the afternoon when the chauffeur turned in his seat to say:

"We're 'most there now. 'Tain't far now to Colonel

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/281


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/282

 Lauriston's lands. He's a mighty big planter.—One of the biggest in Hebron County."

"Oh, you know him, then?"

"Yas Suh. I know him, by sight. Comes to town regular. I got some friends working for him too. He owns mighty nigh all the land hereabouts. What he don't own, the Marleys do. Them two families run things too. The Witts are another big family. But they live a little to the no'th.—Work a lot of colored hands. Work 'em hard too."

"This seems to be pretty good country. There's so much land. It ought to be good for your people too. Do they own any land?"

"Own land. Lord, they don't own their souls. Can't own anything. They get such low pay, and have such a hard time paying up their debts from one year to the other that that's all they can do. Work, eat, live and die. Eat, work, live and die. That's all they do. When we git tired o' that we try the city but that's hard too.

"Why can't you plant enough land to make a surplus from year to year and thus get something ahead?"

"You can do that some places but you can't in this county nor in Truro County.—That's the next county west to this. That's a bad, bad county. Why I know a colored family that lived on a white man's place and couldn't make a living—was in debt all the time. Finally he got another place in another county and was moving away. The white man heard of it, rode after him, met the man with his goods on a wagon. Got in front of him,

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/282


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/283

 pulled a gun and made the family turn back to the old house."

"Why didn't your friend go on to the new place?"

"Go on. Lordy. Ef he had gone on he'd a' gone on plumb into eternity. That white man would a' shot up that whole family and got scot free.—He'd a' shot that family to death then claimed he was assaulted and nothing would a' been done about it.

"Colored folks have got no rights out here," he continued. "The young folks get restless and go away. The old folks, born here, are afraid to move for fear of worse.—They stay. They rent on shares or lease and the shares never run up enough to pay bills, and so the leases never run out."

"You don't mean to say the white landlords cheat."

"Oh, no. They don't cheat. The figures never run right and the land never produces enough. You never heard the saying, 'ought's a ought, and a figger's a figger; all fur the white man, none for the nigger.' Well, that's about the way things run in the country. If a black man questions the figures of his landlord, that black man is impudent and must be put in his place, by the lash or the bullet, or the rope. What can we do?"

Sensing the hopelessness of the question and the futility of an answer, Bennet remained silent. They had just passed through a swampy stretch of roadway bordered by a thick growth of gall berry bushes when suddenly there smote their ears a most unearthly scream. It seemed, not like one in pain but more in fright and horror.

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/283


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/284

 Bennet reached over to the front seat and touched the driver on the shoulder. They were just at a bend in the road which hid them from a further view. The car was throttled down and was but barely creeping along, both men listening for the sound. Again the scream. This time it sounded closer. At the same time there sounded, as if in answer a long, low, half bellow, half groan, rising to a crescendo of a siren fire alarm and then diminishing till it ended in something like the distant roar of a lion.

Bennet began to feel creepy. He thought of hyenas and other wild animals, then recalled that he had never heard of any such inhabiting this section of the country. He reached for the revolver, Dr. Tansey had forced him to carry. The black chauffeur, frightened at first, regained his composure, turned in his seat and whispered:

"Alligator!"

Before Bennet could reply again came the screams of fright, like that of a frightened woman. Bennet thought it must come from some animal caught by the alligator and was being devoured. They had just turned the curve of the road, the machine in low, when a horrible sight greeted them. In the middle of the road stood an elderly white woman, a bonnet thrown back from her head. Her eyes horror-stricken with fright. While some forty feet in front of her, disputing the roadway was a young alligator, about seven feet long, jaws wide open, showing rows of ferocious fangs, his body lifted from the ground by its feet. Every time the woman turned to retreat the reptile opened its jaws wider and bellowed. When she faced it, however,

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/284


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/285

 it refused to leave the road on which it had been surprised and beat the road into dust clouds with its tail. The woman was so frightened she failed to hear the machine come up behind her.

Before Bennet realized what the chauffeur was doing, the latter had stepped from the car and was seeking a piece of wood with which to frighten the reptile from the road. Bennet, however, noted a towing rope in the bottom of the car and thinking he would like to have a live specimen to take with him North, stepped from the car, rope in hand.

The woman was just about to scream again when Bennet's voice sounded in her ear. "Keep still, we'll save you."

While the chauffeur was returning with a broken sapling, Bennet, rope in hand climbed a nearby tree, whose branches overhung the road. From one branch to another he made his way till directly over the reptile, then making a slipnoose he slowly lowered this down in front of the alligator. The reptile's eyes were so blinded with anger that he paid no heed to the noose as it touched the ground in front of him and was slowly dragged about his head till well behind the neck of the brute. The tension was too much for the old woman and she swooned, slumping to the middle of the roadway as she saw the rope about the reptile's body.

The alligator, seeing the motion of the woman's body falling, grew wilder in its anger and lashed the road furiously with its tail, at the same time bellowing fiercely

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/285


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/286

 The bellow, however, was shortened as Bennet tightened on the rope and lifted the brute from the ground till only the rear feet and tail were touching. The bellow became a scream as the reptile fought and struggled with this new danger which sought to choke him. In the dashing, swinging, swaying fight, the suddenness of the capture turned the bellowing into screams that were half coughs, Bennet was almost hurled to the ground from his lofty perch.

Round the tree, 'round the tree," shouted the chauffeur. "Throw the rope 'round the tree."

Bennet struggled to do this when he caught the advice. Wrapping his legs about the trunk of the limb, wrestler fashion, he fought and pulled till almost exhausted. Finally he managed to lift the alligator from the ground and tie the rope securely to the limb. Panting and gasping after his struggle he returned to the ground. The elderly woman was just regaining consciousness when he reached her. The alligator was twisting, turning and struggling wildly, his body swaying from one side to the other, in the effort to free himself. The woman opened her eyes, then seeing the alligator swinging, closed her eyes again, shouting:

"Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!"

Bennet tried to lift her to her feet but she refused to rise. Repeating the request, "Kill it."

Bennet was still trying to sooth her when the chauffeur returned from the car with Bennet's revolver. Going close to the white glistening belly of the reptile, he aimed the revolver at a point just between the shoulders and

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/286


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/287

 fired twice. At the second shot the alligator's struggles diminished, a small stream of blood issuing from the wounds made by the bullets.

"Too bad. I wanted him alive," was all Bennet said as the chauffeur returned him the revolver. Gently the latter lifted the woman in his arms and bore her to the car, dispatching the chauffeur for some water from the stream they had crossed. Bennet moistened his handkerchief when the man returned and gently laved the woman's forehead. This soon revived her. At the opening of her eyes and returning memory, with a smothered scream she threw her arms about Bennet and began to cry.

She was soon soothed to calmness, however, by Bennet who convinced her that the reptile was dead. "Ugh!" she shuddered as calmness returned. "That's the first time I ever met one of the things on the road and I'll never come this road again.—I never knew them to come so far from the river before."

"They come out to lay their eggs," offered the chauffeur in explanation.

"Yes, so I've heard, but never met one before."

"You must have frightened him as much as he did you," smiled Bennet, reassuringly, as the woman clung to his hand. "Do you feel well enough to travel?" he asked solicitously. "If you do, I'll take you to your home and set you down."

"God bless you, and bring you a good wife," the old woman replied. "It's Sally Gorton that thanks you, Boy. Old Sally Gorton. I've been in these parts nigh onto six-

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/287


text:
Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/288

 ty years now and everybody knows me.—I live just beyond here.—

"All right, Mrs. Gorton. I'll take you home."

"Thank 'e, Bub. But don't call me Mrs. Gorton. Ain't had no one call me that since my sparkin' days. Call me Aunt Sally. Everybody does. I like it. We're all neighbors in these parts and to them all I'm plain Aunt Sally. So call me that."

"All right, Aunt Sally," humoring her. "If you're Aunt Sally to all then you'll be Aunt Sally to me. Do you live far?"

The chauffeur had now taken his place at the wheel and Bennet stepped into the car. "Couple of miles ahead.—Used to live on Park Lauriston's place—lived there good many years but moved 'bout this time last year." Mrs. Gorton was now herself, confidence returning quickly as she sat by the good looking youth at her side and prattled away like a young girl, in her hospitable, open hearted southern way.

At the name Lauriston, Bennet's heart gave a wild throb sending the blood pulsing to his face.

"Ah, you know the Lauristons, then?" he asked trying to hide his confusion by making the question casual.

"Know them—know them. I know the whole kit and kaboodle of them. Known them since their bib and tucker days. Old Park Lauriston and I almost grew up together. Say I do know them!" Then turning to look shrewdly at the young man at her side, she asked: "You ain't coming courting, are you? If you are you might's

title: Page:By Sanction of Law.pdf/288