eyes. I was being held by two men close to the ladder, so I could not help seeing everything.
Miss Dean, as I have before said, was a tall, slim, slightly built woman. Her hips were very narrow and her bottom very small, but it was round, well shaped and fairly plump; her thighs and legs also were well formed though slender; her skin was of a delicate ivory tint, smooth, and fine in texture.
The men pressed closer to the ladder, and I could see their eyes glisten as they fixed them with lecherous looks on Miss Dean’s half-naked body. Stevens, after gazing for a moment or two at her straight figure, exclaimed with a laugh: Je-ru-sa-lem! What a little bottom she’s got. It ain’t no bigger than a man’s. By gosh, boys! Perhaps she is a man! This was meant as a joke. It amused the men and they all laughed, one of them calling out: Well Jake, you can easily find out whether she’s a woman or not.
Why, so I can, now that you have put it in my head, drawled Stevens, grinning and pretending to be surprised at the suggestion. Then he thrust his hand between her thighs.
Miss Dean flinched convulsively, uttering a startled cry. Then, looking round at the man with an expression of intense horror on her face and with her eyes flashing, she exclaimed: How dare you touch me like that?! Take your hand away! Oh, whip me and let me go!
She writhed and twisted, but the man kept his hand in the cleft of her thighs, saying with a coarse laugh: She’s a woman sure enough, boys. I’ve got my hand on her slit.
Then he said to her: My hand won’t hurt you. But if I and these other gentlemen were not decent sort of chaps who only intend to carry out the sentence of Judge Lynch, you would soon find something different to a hand between your legs. Now I’ll whip you right away, and I guess you’ll soon be begging me to stop whipping you.
He withdrew his hand, and Miss Dean ceased struggling. Her head drooped forward. She again closed her eyes and lay silently awaiting the shameful punishment.
Stevens raised the switch and flicked it about so as to make it hiss in the air. Then he brought it down with considerable force across the upper part of her bottom, the tough hickory spray making a sharp crack as it struck the firm flesh which quivered involuntarily under the stinging stroke.
Miss Dean winced, drawing her breath through her teeth with a hissing sound. A long red weal instantly rose on her delicate skin.
Swinging the switch high, Stevens went on whipping, laying each stroke below the preceding one so that her skin soon was striped in regular lines. Each stroke smacked loudly on her flesh, and each one raised a fresh, red weal which stretched across both sides of her quivering bottom.
She began to writhe, and she clenched her teeth so tightly that I could see the outlines of her jaws through her cheeks, but no sound came from her lips. The man laid on the strokes with severity, and I wondered how she could bear the pain in silence. I felt inclined to scream, and I shuddered every time that I heard the horrid sound made by the switch as it fell on her flesh.
Stevens continued to whip her ruthlessly and slowly, pausing between each stroke. The weals increased in number and her skin grew redder until at last there was not a trace of white to be seen on the whole surface of her bottom. Her flesh twitched, she winced more sharply, she writhed more and she jerked her loins from side to side as the hissing strokes fell. Then, raising her head and looking over her shoulder, she fixed her eyes, which had become dilated and wild looking, on the switch every time it rose in the air.
Her lips were quivering, her pretty face was distorted with pain, the big tears were streaming down her scarlet cheeks and she began to moan. Still Stevens plied the hickory. Drops of blood began to show all over the surface of the skin. Her contortions became more violent and she uttered a groan every time the switch raised a fresh weal on her bleeding bottom. But the brave woman never once screamed, nor did she make an appeal for mercy. Her fortitude amazed me.
At last Stevens stopped whipping and threw down the switch which had become quite frayed at the end. Then, bending down, he closely examined the marks of his handiwork on the sufferer’s bottom.
I also gazed at it, shuddering. The whole surface from the loins to the thighs was a dark red color; it was covered with livid weals crossing and recrossing each other in all directions, and it was plentifully spotted with blood. It was dreadfully sore looking and its extreme redness contrasted with the ivory-like whiteness of the untouched skin of the thighs. She had been most severely whipped. I think she must have received forty or fifty strokes.
There boys, said Stevens, looking round at the spectators, I guess that will do for her. I touched her up pretty smartly, as you can see by the state of her bottom. She won’t be able to sit down comfortable for two or three days, and I don’t think the marks of the whipping will ever be quite rubbed off her skin.
He then pulled down her clothes and unfastened her wrists and ankles. She stood up, twisting her loins in pain, with her pantalettes hanging about her feet. Her face now was pale and drawn with suffering, her bosom was heaving, her tears were flowing and she was sobbing.
She seemed oblivious of everything except her pain. But, after a few moments, she recovered herself a little and, taking her handkerchief from her pocket, wiped the tears from her eyes.
Then she pulled up her pantalettes and with some difficulty-for she was trembling very much-buttoned them around her waist, her cheeks again reddening when she noticed the grinning faces and leering looks of the men standing round her.
Two of the men then took her by the arms and led her into the veranda, where they left her.
She laid herself down at full length upon a couch and hid her face in the cushion, weeping.
CHAPTER FIVE
I have told you all these things precisely as they happened, and I have used the exact words and phrases which were spoken by the band of lynchers who tortured us that day. I daresay you wonder at my remembering all the little details. But such an experience can never be forgotten: all the incidents which occurred during that dreadful period were indelibly printed on my memory so that I have still a vivid recollection of them.
But to resume. You can imagine my feelings as I listened to the coarse language of the men, language such as I had never before heard, and as I watched the proceedings at once so cruel and so utterly revolting the feminine delicacy. I was torn with various emotions. I was horrified at what I had heard and seen; I was filled with pity for Miss Dean; I was consumed with impotent rage against the men in whose power we were; I dreaded the coming exposure of my person, and I was awfully afraid of the whipping before me. I never could bear pain with any fortitude. In fact, I must confess that I am morally and physically a great coward.
Stevens picked up the unused switch and straightened it by drawing it through the fingers of his left hand. Now boys, he said, put the gal on the ladder and tie her up but let me do the stripping.
The awful moment had come, and I became quite frantic at the thought of the shame and pain which I was about to undergo. An insane idea that I might escape came into my head. The men were holding me loosely, so I easily slipped from their grasp and made a dash for the garden gate. Several of the men gave chase, and, though I exerted myself to the utmost, I soon was caught and dragged to the ladder, shrieking, struggling and begging them not to whip me. But my entreaties evoked only laughter. I was lifted up, was placed in position with outstretched arms and was securely bound at the wrists and the ankles.
Stevens now began to strip me and seemed to take as long a time over the work as possible, slowly rolling my garments up one by one till he came to my drawers. Then he paused. I was wearing the usual feminine drawers that are open behind.
Look, boys, he observed, this gal has got on trousers too, but they are different from the ones the woman wore. These are loose, and are real dandy ones, all pretty frills and lace and ribbons. And, you see, there is a big slit at the back. I suppose that’s there so her sweetheart can get at her without taking down her trousers.
The men all laughed loudly, while I, on hearing the shameful words, shrank as if I had received a blow.
Stevens now untied the strings of my drawers and pulled them down to my knees. I could feel the breeze fanning my naked bottom and thighs. A sensation of unutterable shame overwhelmed me. To be exposed in such a
