“Your testimony ought to prove an alibi for him,” declared Miller.
“Dere ain’ gwine ter be no chance ter prove nothin’, ’less’n we kin do it mighty quick! Dey say dey’re gwine ter lynch ’im ter-night—some on ’em is talkin’ ’bout burnin’ ’im. My idee is ter hunt up de niggers an’ git ’em ter stan’ tergether an’ gyard de jail.”
“Why shouldn’t we go to the principal white people of the town and tell them Josh’s story, and appeal to them to stop this thing until Campbell can have a hearing?”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” said Watson despondently; “their blood is up. It seems that some colored man attacked Mrs. Ochiltree—and he was a murderous villain, whoever he may be. To quote Josh would destroy the effect of his story—we know he never harmed anyone but himself”—
“An’ a few keerliss people w’at got in my way,” corrected Josh.
“He has been in court several times for fighting—and that’s against him. To have been at Sam Taylor’s place is against Sandy, too, rather than in his favor. No, Josh, the white people would believe that you were trying to shield Sandy, and you would probably be arrested as an accomplice.”
“But look a-here, Mr. Watson—Dr. Miller, is we-all jes’ got ter set down here, widout openin’ ou’ mouths, an’ let dese w’ite folks hang er bu’n a man w’at we know ain’ guilty? Dat ain’t no law, ner jestice, ner nothin’! Ef you-all won’t he’p, I’ll do somethin’ myse’f! Dere’s two niggers ter one white man in dis town, an’ I’m sho’ I kin fin’ fifty of ’em w’at ’ll fight, ef dey kin fin’ anybody ter lead ’em.”
“Now hold on, Josh,” argued Miller; “what is to be gained by fighting? Suppose you got your crowd together and surrounded the jail—what then?”
“There’d be a clash,” declared Watson, “and instead of one dead negro there’d be fifty. The white people are claiming now that Campbell didn’t stop with robbery and murder. A special edition of the Morning Chronicle, just out, suggests a further purpose, and has all the old shopworn cant about race purity and supremacy and imperative necessity, which always comes to the front whenever it is sought to justify some outrage on the colored folks. The blood of the whites is up, I tell you!”
“Is there anything to that suggestion?” asked Miller incredulously.
“It doesn’t matter whether there is or not,” returned Watson. “Merely to suggest it proves it. Nothing was said about this feature until the paper came out—and even its statement is vague and indefinite—but now the claim is in every mouth. I met only black looks as I came down the street. White men with whom I have long been on friendly terms passed me without a word. A negro has been arrested on suspicion—the entire race is condemned on general principles.”
“The whole thing is profoundly discouraging,” said Miller sadly. “Try as we may to build up the race in the essentials of good citizenship and win the good opinion of the best people, some black scoundrel comes along, and by a single criminal act, committed in the twinkling of an eye, neutralizes the effect of a whole year’s work.”
“It’s mighty easy neut’alize’, er whatever you call it,” said Josh sullenly. “De w’ite folks don’ want too good an opinion er de niggers—ef dey had a good opinion of ’em, dey wouldn’ have no excuse f er ’busin’ an’ hangin’ an’ burnin’ ’em. But ef dey can’t keep from doin’ it, let ’em git de right man! Dis way er pickin’ up de fus’ nigger dey comes across, an’ stringin’ ’im up rega’dliss, ought ter be stop’, an’ stop’ right now!”
“Yes, that’s the worst of lynch law,” said Watson; “but we are wasting valuable time—it’s hardly worth while for us to discuss a subject we are all agreed upon. One of our race, accused of certain acts, is about to be put to death without judge or jury, ostensibly because he committed a crime—really because he is a negro, for if he were white he would not be lynched. It is thus made a race issue, on the one side as well as on the other. What can we do to protect him?”
“We kin fight, ef we haf ter,” replied Josh resolutely.
“Well, now, let us see. Suppose the colored people armed themselves? Messages would at once be sent to every town and county in the neighborhood. White men from all over the state, armed to the teeth, would at the slightest word pour into town on every railroad train, and extras would be run for their benefit.”
“They’re already coming in,” said Watson.
“We might go to the sheriff,” suggested Miller, “and demand that he telegraph the governor to call out the militia.”
“I spoke to the sheriff an hour ago,” replied Watson. “He has a white face and a whiter liver. He does not dare call out the militia to protect a negro charged with such a brutal crime;—and if he did, the militia are white men, and who can say that their efforts would not be directed to keeping the negroes out of the way, in order that the white devils might do their worst? The whole machinery of the state is in the hands of white men, elected partly by our votes. When the color line is drawn, if they choose to stand together with the rest of their race against us, or to remain passive and let the others work their will, we are helpless—our cause is hopeless.”
“We might call on the general government,” said Miller. “Surely the President would intervene.”
“Such a demand would be of no avail,” returned Watson. “The government can only intervene under certain conditions, of which it
