Finally, after several other meetings five men took courage—three of the best and two of the weakest. During the Spring long negotiations were entered into by Miss Smith to “buy” the five men. Colonel Cresswell and Mr. Tolliver had them all charged with large sums of indebtedness and these sums had to be assumed by the school. As Colonel Cresswell counted over two thousand dollars of school notes and deposited them beside the mortgage he smiled grimly for he saw the end. Yet, even then his hand trembled and that curious doubt came creeping back. He put it aside angrily and glanced up.
“Nigger wants to talk with you,” announced his clerk.
The Colonel sauntered out and found Bles Alwyn waiting.
“Colonel Cresswell,” he said, “I have charge of the buying for the school and our tenants this year and I naturally want to do the best possible. I thought I’d come over and see about getting my supplies at your store.”
“That’s all right; you can get anything you want,” said Colonel Cresswell cheerily, for this to his mind was evidence of sense on the part of the Negroes. Bles showed his list of needed supplies—seeds, meat, cornmeal, coffee, sugar, etc. The Colonel glanced over it carelessly, then moved away.
“All right. Come and get what you want—any time,” he called back.
“But about the prices,” said Alwyn, following him.
“Oh, they’ll be all right.”
“Of course. But what I want is an estimate of your lowest cash prices.”
“Cash?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cresswell thought a while; such a businesslike proposition from Negroes surprised him.
“Well, I’ll let you know,” he said.
It was nearly a week later before Alwyn approached him again.
“Now, see here,” said Colonel Cresswell, “there’s practically no difference between cash and time prices. We buy our stock on time and you can just as well take advantage of this as not. I have figured out about what these things will cost. The best thing for you to do is to make a deposit here and get things when you want them. If you make a good deposit I’ll throw off ten percent, which is all of my profit.”
“Thank you,” said Alwyn, but he looked over the account and found the whole bill at least twice as large as he expected. Without further parley, he made some excuse and started to town while Mr. Cresswell went to the telephone.
In town Alwyn went to all the chief merchants one after another and received to his great surprise practically the same estimate. He could not understand it. He had estimated the current market prices according to the Montgomery paper, yet the prices in Toomsville were fifty to a hundred and fifty percent higher. The merchant to whom he went last, laughed.
“Don’t you know we’re not going to interfere with Colonel Cresswell’s tenants?” He stated the dealers’ attitude, and Alwyn saw light. He went home and told Zora, and she listened without surprise.
“Now to business,” she said briskly. “Miss Smith,” turning to the teacher, “as I told you, they’re combined against us in town and we must buy in Montgomery. I was sure it was coming, but I wanted to give Colonel Cresswell every chance. Bles starts for Montgomery—”
Alwyn looked up. “Does he?” he asked, smiling.
“Yes,” said Zora, smiling in turn. “We must lose no further time.”
“But there’s no train from Toomsville tonight.”
“But there’s one from Barton in the morning and Barton is only twenty miles away.”
“It is a long walk.” Alwyn thought a while, silently. Then he rose. “I’m going,” he said. “Goodbye.”
In less than a week the storehouse was full, and tenants were at work. The twenty acres of cleared swamp land, attended to by the voluntary labor of all the tenants, was soon bearing a magnificent crop. Colonel Cresswell inspected all the crops daily with a proprietary air that would have been natural had these folk been simply tenants, and as such he persisted in regarding them.
The cotton now growing was perhaps not so uniformly fine as the first acre of Silver Fleece, but it was of unusual height and thickness.
“At least a bale to the acre,” Alwyn estimated, and the Colonel mentally determined to take two-thirds of the crop. After that he decided that he would evict Zora immediately; since sufficient land was cleared already for his purposes and moreover, he had seen with consternation a herd of cattle grazing in one field on some early green stuff, and heard a drove of hogs in the swamp. Such an example before the tenants of the Black Belt would be fatal. He must wait a few weeks for them to pick the cotton—then, the end. He was fighting the battle of his color and caste.
The children sang merrily in the brown-white field. The wide baskets, poised aloft, foamed on the erect and swaying bodies of the dark carriers. The crop throughout the land was short that year, for prices had ruled low last season in accordance with the policy of the Combine. This year they started high again. Would they fall? Many thought so and hastened to sell.
Zora and Alwyn gathered their tenants’ crops, ginned them at the Cresswells’ gin, and carried their cotton to town, where it was deposited in the warehouse of the Farmers’ League.
“Now,” said Alwyn, “we would best sell while prices are high.”
Zora laughed at him frankly.
“We can’t,” she said. “Don’t you know that Colonel Cresswell will attach our cotton for rent as soon as it touches the warehouse?”
“But it’s ours.”
“Nothing is ours. No black man ordinarily can sell his crop without a white creditor’s consent.”
Alwyn fumed.
“The best way,” he declared, “is to go to Montgomery and get a first-class lawyer and just fight the thing through. The land is legally ours, and he has no right to our cotton.”
“Yes, but you must remember that no man like Colonel Cresswell regards a business bargain with a colored man as binding. No white man under ordinary circumstances will help enforce such a bargain against prevailing public opinion.”
“But if we cannot
