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Contents vii
Black and Women’s Antislavery Societies 179 Nativism and the Know-Nothings 203
Moral Suasion 180 Uncle Tom’s Cabin 203
Black Community Support 181 The Kansas-Nebraska Act 204
The Black Convention Movement 181 Preston Brooks Attacks Charles Sumner 205
Black Churches in the Antislavery Cause 181 The Dred Scott Decision 206
Voices Frederick Douglass Describes an Awkward Questions for the Court 206
Situation 182 Reaction to the Dred Scott Decision 207
Black Newspapers 182 White Northerners and Black Americans 207
The American and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society and The Lincoln-Douglas Debates 208
the Liberty Party 183 Abraham Lincoln and Black People 208
A More Aggressive Abolitionism 184 John Brown and the Raid on Harpers Ferry 209
The Amistad and the Creole 184 Planning the Raid 209
The Underground Railroad 185 The Raid 209
Technology and the Underground The Reaction 210
Railroad 186 Explore on MyHistoryLab The Sectional
Canada West 186 Crisis 211
Explore on MyHistoryLab The Under- The Election of Abraham Lincoln 212
ground Railroad 187 Black People Respond to Lincoln’s Election 212
Black Militancy 188 Disunion 213
Voices Martin R. Delany Describes His Vision of Conclusion 213 Chapter Timeline 214
a Black Nation 189 Review Questions 215
Frederick Douglass 189
Connecting the Past Narrative of the Life
Revival of Black Nationalism 190
of Frederick Douglass and Black Autobiography 216
Conclusion 191 Chapter Timeline 192
Review Questions 193
Chapter 11
Politics 290
Black Congressmen 291 Chapter 15
Democrats and Farmer Discontent 292 African Americans Challenge
The Colored Farmers’ Alliance 292
The Populist Party 293
White Supremacy, 1877–1918 314
Disfranchisement 293 Social Darwinism 315
Evading the Fifteenth Amendment 294 Education and Schools 315
Mississippi 294 Segregated Schools 316
South Carolina 295 The Hampton Model 316
The Grandfather Clause 295 Booker T. Washington and the Tuskegee Model 316
The “Force Bill” 295 Critics of the Tuskegee Model 318
Segregation 296 Voices Thomas E. Miller and the Mission
Jim Crow 296 of the Black Land-Grant College 319
Segregation on the Railroads 296 Church and Religion 319
Plessy v. Ferguson 297 The Church as Solace and Escape 320
Streetcar Segregation 297 The Holiness Movement and the Pentecostal Church 320
Voices Majority and Dissenting Opinions Roman Catholics and Episcopalians 321
on Plessy v. Ferguson 298 Red versus Black: The Buffalo Soldiers 322
Segregation Proliferates 299 Discrimination in the Army 322
Racial Etiquette 299 The Buffalo Soldiers in Combat 324
Violence 299 Civilian Hostility to Black Soldiers 324
Washington County, Texas 299 Brownsville 325
The Phoenix Riot 300 African Americans in the Navy 325
Contents xi
Protest, Pride, and Pan-Africanism: Black Organiza- The Rise of Black Social Scientists 411
tions in the 1920s 375 Social Scientists and the New Deal 411
The NAACP 376 African Americans and the Second
Voices The Negro National Anthem: “Lift Every- New Deal 412
Voice and Sing” 377 Organized Labor and Black America 414
“Up You Mighty Race”: Marcus Garvey and the Voices A. Philip Randolph Inspires a
UNIA 377 Young Black Activist 415
Voices Marcus Garvey Appeals for a New African The Communist Party and African Americans 416
Nation 379 The International Labor Defense and the
The African Blood Brotherhood 380 “Scottsboro Boys” 416
Pan-Africanism 380 Debating Communist Leadership 417
Labor 381 The National Negro Congress 418
The Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters 382 Misuses of Medical Science: The Tuskegee
A. Philip Randolph 383 Study 418
The Harlem Renaissance 384 Conclusion 420 Chapter Timeline 420
Before Harlem 385 Review Questions 421
Writers and Artists 386
White People and the Harlem Renaissance 389
Chapter 19
Harlem and the Jazz Age 390
Song, Dance, and Stage 391 Meanings of Freedom: Culture
Sports 392 and Society in the 1930s, 1940s,
Rube Foster 392
and 1950s, 1930–1950 422
College Sports 393
Conclusion 393 Chapter Timeline 394 Black Culture in a Midwestern City 423
Review Questions 395 The Black Culture Industry and American
Racism 424
Connecting the Past Migration 396 The Music Culture from Swing to Bebop 425
Popular Culture for the Masses: Comic Strips, Radio,
and Movies 426
Chapter 18
The Comics 426
Black Protest, the Great Radio and Jazz Musicians and Technological
Depression, and the New Deal, Change 427
Radio and Black Disc Jockeys 427
1929–1940 398 Radio and Race 428
The Cataclysm, 1929–1933 399 Radio and Destination Freedom 429
Harder Times for Black America 399 Race, Representation, and the Movies 429
Black Businesses in the Depression: Collapse and The Black Chicago Renaissance 431
Survival 401 Voices Margaret Walker on Black Culture 432
The Failure of Relief 402 Gospel in Chicago: Thomas Dorsey 434
Black Protest during the Great Depression 403 Chicago in Dance and Song: Katherine Dunham
The NAACP and Civil Rights Struggles 403 and Billie Holiday 434
Du Bois Ignites a Controversy 404 Black Visual Art 436
Challenging Racial Discrimination in the Courts 404 Black Literature 436
Black Women and Community Organizing 406 Richard Wright’s Native Son 437
African Americans and the New Deal 407 James Baldwin Challenges Wright 438
Roosevelt and the First New Deal, 1933–1935 408 Ralph Ellison and Invisible Man 438
Voices A Black Sharecropper Details Abuse in the African Americans in Sports 439
Administration of Agricultural Relief 409 Jesse Owens and Joe Louis 439
Black Officials in the New Deal 410 Breaking the Color Barrier in Baseball 439
Contents xiii
Chapter 20 Chapter 21
The World War II Era and The Long Freedom Movement,
the Seeds of a Revolution, 1950–1965 472
1936–1948 446 The 1950s: Prosperity and Prejudice 473
On the Eve of War, 1936–1941 447 The Road to Brown 473
African Americans and the Emerging Constance Baker Motley and Black Lawyers
International Crisis 448 in the South 474
A. Philip Randolph and the March on Washington Brown and the Coming Revolution 475
Movement 449 Brown II 477
Executive Order 8802 450 Massive White Resistance 478
Race and the U.S. Armed Forces 451 The Lynching of Emmett Till 478
Institutional Racism in the American Military 451 New Forms of Protest: The Montgomery Bus
The Costs of Military Discrimination 452 Boycott 479
Soldiers and Civilians Protest Military The Roots of Revolution 479
Discrimination 452 Voices Letter of the Montgomery Women’s
Black Women in the Struggle to Desegregate Political Council to Mayor W. A. Gayle 480
the Military 453 Rosa Parks 481
Voices William H. Hastie Resigns in Protest 454 Montgomery Improvement Association 481
Voices Separate but Equal Training for Black Martin Luther King, Jr. 482
Army Nurses? 455 Walking for Freedom 482
The Beginning of Military Desegregation 455 Friends in the North 482
The Tuskegee Airmen 456 Victory 483
Voices A Tuskegee Airman Remembers 457 No Easy Road to Freedom: 1957–1960 483
Technology: The Tuskegee Planes 457 Martin Luther King, Jr., and the SCLC 484
The Transformation of Black Soldiers 458 Civil Rights Act of 1957 484
Black People on the Home Front 459 Little Rock, Arkansas 484
Black Workers: From Farm to Factory 459 Black Youth Stand Up by Sitting Down 485
The FEPC during the War 460 Sit-Ins: Greensboro, Nashville, Atlanta 485
Anatomy of a Race Riot: Detroit, 1943 460 The Student Nonviolent Coordinating
The G.I. Bill of Rights and Black Veterans 461 Committee 487
Old and New Protest Groups on the Freedom Rides 487
Home Front 461 A Sight to Be Seen: The Movement at High Tide 488
The Transition to Peace 462 The Election of 1960 488
The Cold War and International Politics 463 The Kennedy Administration and the Civil Rights
African Americans in World Affairs: W. E. B. Du Movement 489
Bois and Ralph Bunche 463 Voter Registration Projects 489
Anticommunism at Home 464 The Albany Movement 490
Paul Robeson 464 The Birmingham Confrontation 490
Henry Wallace and the 1948 Presidential A Hard Victory 492
Election 465 The March on Washington 492
Desegregating the Armed Forces 466 The Civil Rights Act of 1964 492
xiv Contents
Mississippi Freedom Summer 495 The Rise of Black Elected Officials 527
The Mississippi Freedom Democratic Party 496 The Gary Convention and the Black Political
Selma and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 496 Agenda 528
Conclusion 497 Shirley Chisholm: “I Am the People’s Politician” 528
Explore on MyHistoryLab The Civil Voices Shirley Chisholm’s Speech to the U.S. House
Rights Movement 499 of Representatives 529
Chapter Timeline 500 Review Questions 501 Black People Gain Local Offices 529
Economic Downturn 530
Black Americans and the Carter Presidency 530
Chapter 22 Black Appointees 530
Black Nationalism, Black Power, Carter’s Domestic Policies 531
Conclusion 532 Chapter Timeline 533
Black Arts, 1965–1980 502 Review Questions 535
The Rise of Black Nationalism 503
Malcolm X’s New Departure 505
Stokely Carmichael and Black Power 506 Chapter 23
The Black Panther Party 507 African Americans in the
Police Repression and the FBI’s COINTELPRO 507
Voices The Black Panther Party Platform 508
Twenty-First Century,
Prisoners’ Rights 509 1980–2010 536
The Inner-City Rebellions 510 Progress and Poverty: Income, Education, and
Watts 510 Health 537
Newark 510 High-Achieving African Americans 538
Detroit 511 African Americans’ Quest for Economic
The Kerner Commission 511 Security 538
Difficulties in Creating the Great Society 512 The Persistence of Black Poverty 540
Johnson and the War in Vietnam 513 Impact of the 2008–2010 Economic Recession on
Explore on MyHistoryLab The Vietnam Employed Black Women 541
War 514 Racial Incarceration 542
Black Americans and the Vietnam War 515 Education One-Half Century after Brown 542
Project 100,000 515 Challenging Brown 543
Johnson: Vietnam Destroys the Great Society 515 The Health Gap 544
Voices They Called Each Other “Bloods” 516 African Americans at the Center of Art and
King: Searching for a New Strategy 517 Culture 545
King on the Vietnam War 518 The Hip-Hop Nation 547
King’s Murder 518 Origins of a New Music: A Generation Defines
The Black Arts Movement and Black Itself 547
Consciousness 518 Rap Music Goes Mainstream 548
Poetry and Theater 520 Gangsta Rap 548
Music 521 African-American Intellectuals 548
The Black Student Movement 521 Afrocentricity 549
The Orangeburg Massacre 522 African-American Studies Come of Age 550
Black Studies 522 Black Religion at the Dawn of the Millennium 550
The Presidential Election of 1968 and Richard Black Christians on the Front Line 551
Nixon 524 Tensions in the Black Church 552
The “Moynihan Report” 524 Black Muslims 553
Busing 525 Louis Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam 553
Nixon and the War 526 Millennium Marches 554
Contents xv
Complicating Black Identity in the Black Politics in the Clinton Era 580
Twenty-First Century 555 Black Politics and the Contested 2000 Election 581
Immigration and African Americans 557 Gore v. Bush 581
Black Feminism 558 Republican Triumph 581
Gay and Lesbian African Americans 559 George W. Bush’s Black Cabinet 582
Conclusion 559 September 11, 2001 582
Voices E. Lynn Harris 560 War 582
Chapter Timeline 561 Review Questions 562 Black Politics in the Bush Era 583
Bush’s Second Term 584
The Iraq War 584
Chapter 24
Hurricane Katrina and the Destruction
Black Politics from 1980 of Black New Orleans 584
to the Present: The President Black Politics in the Present Era: Barack Obama,
President of the United States 586
Obama Era, 1980–2012 563 Obama versus McCain 586
Jesse Jackson and the Rainbow Coalition 564 PROFILE Barack Obama 588
Second Phase of Black Politics 565 PROFILE Michelle LaVaughn Robinson Obama 590
The Present Status of Black Politics 566 Obama versus Romney 590
Ronald Reagan and the Conservative Reaction 567 Factors Affecting the Elections of 2008 and 2012 591
The King Holiday 567 Conclusion 592 Chapter Timeline 594
Dismantling the Great Society 567 Review Questions 597
Black Conservatives 568
Connecting the Past The Significance of
The Thomas–Hill Controversy 568
Black Culture 598
Debating the “Old” and the “New” Civil Rights 569
Affirmative Action 569
Voices Black Women in Defense of Epilogue 600
Themselves 570
The Backlash 571 appendix A-1
Black Political Activism at the End of the Twentieth
Century 573 glossary Key Terms and Concepts G-1
Reparations 574 Presidents and Vice Presidents of the
TransAfrica and Black Internationalism 574 United States P-1
The Rise in Black Incarceration 575
Policing the Black Community 575 Historically Black Four-Year Colleges
Black Men and White Injustice 576 and Universities U-1
Human Rights in America 577
CREDITS C-1
Black Politics, 1992–2001: The Clinton
Presidency 578 Index I-1
“It’s the Economy, Stupid!” 579
The Welfare Reform Act and “Three Strikes” 579
Maps, Figures, and Tables
xvi
Maps, Figures, and Tables xvii
9–1 Mob Violence in the United States, 13–1 African-American Population and Officeholding
1812–1849 176 during Reconstruction in the States Subject to
14–1 African-American Representation in Congress, Congressional Reconstruction 267
1867–1900 290 14–1 Black Members of the U.S. Congress,
14–2 Lynching in the United States: 1889–1932 301 1860–1901 291
15–1 Black and White Illiteracy in the United States 15–1 South Carolina’s Black and White Public Schools,
and the Southern States, 1880–1900 316 1908–1909 317
15–2 Church Affiliation among Southern Black 16–1 Black Population Growth in Selected Northern
People, 1890 321 Cities, 1910–1920 364
17–1 Black Workers by Major Industrial Group, 16–2 African-American Migration from the
1920 382 South 365
17–2 Black and White Workers by Skill Level, 18–1 Demographic Shifts: The Second Great
1920 383 Migration, 1930–1950 400
18–1 Unemployment, 1925–1945 399 18–2 Median Income of Black Families Compared
23–1 Median Income of Black, Ethnic, and White to the Median Income of White Families for
Households, 1967–2011 539 Selected Cities, 1935–1936 401
23–2 Percentage of Children under Age 18 Living with 22–1 Black Power Politics: The Election of Black
Their Mothers, 1968–2012 542 Mayors, 1967–1990 527
23–1 Black Children under Age 18 and Their Living
Arrangements, 1960–2012 (Numbers in
Tables
Thousands) 541
5–1 Slave Populations in the Mid-Atlantic States, 23–2 Rates of Black Incarceration 543
1790–1860 93 23–3 Estimated Number of Diagnosed Cases of
6–1 U.S. Slave Population, 1820 and 1860 118 Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV)/
7–1 Black Population in the States of the Old Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome (AIDS),
Northwest, 1800–1840 142 per 100,000 in the United States, 2010 545
7–2 Free Black Population of Selected Cities, 24–1 2012 Election Results: Voting Demographics 593
1800–1850 144
Preface
“One ever feels his two-ness,—an A merican, of study since the 1950s. Books and articles have
appeared on almost every facet of black life. Yet this
a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two
survey is the first comprehensive college textbook of
unreconciled strivings; two warring ide- the African-American experience. It draws on recent
als in one dark body.” So wrote W. E. B. Du Bois research to present black history in a clear and direct
in 1897. African-American history, Du Bois maintained, manner, within a broad social, cultural, and political
was the history of this double-consciousness. Black peo- framework. It also provides thorough coverage of African-
ple have always been part of the American nation that American women as active builders of black culture.
they helped to build. But they have also been a nation African Americans: A Concise History balances ac-
unto themselves, with their own experiences, culture, and counts of the actions of African-American leaders with
aspirations. African-American history cannot be under- investigations of the lives of the ordinary men and women
stood except in the broader context of American history. in black communities. This community focus helps make
Likewise, American history cannot be understood with- this a history of a people rather than an account of a few
out African-American history. extraordinary individuals. Yet the book does not neglect
Since Du Bois’s time, our understanding of both important political and religious leaders, entrepreneurs,
African-American and American history has been com- and entertainers. It also gives extensive coverage to
plicated and enriched by a growing appreciation of the African-American art, literature, and music.
role of class and g ender in shaping human societies. We African-American history started in Africa, and this
are also increasingly aware of the complexity of racial narrative begins with an account of life on that continent
experiences in American history. Even in times of great to the sixteenth century and the beginning of the forced
racial polarity, some white people have empathized with migration of millions of Africans to the Americas. Suc-
black people and some black people have identified with ceeding chapters present the struggle of black people to
white interests. maintain their humanity during the slave trade and as
It is in light of these insights that African Americans: slaves in North America during the long colonial period.
A Concise History tells the story of African Americans. The coming of the American Revolution during the
That story begins in Africa, where the people who were to 1770s initiated a pattern of black struggle for racial jus-
become African A mericans began their long, turbulent, tice in which periods of optimism alternated with times
and difficult journey, a journey marked by sustained suf- of repression. Several chapters analyze the building of
fering as well as perseverance, bravery, and achievement. black community institutions, the antislavery movement,
It includes the rich culture—at once splendidly distinc- the efforts of black people to make the Civil War a war
tive and tightly intertwined with a broader American for emancipation, their struggle for equal rights as citi-
culture—that African Americans have nurtured through- zens during Reconstruction, and the strong opposition
out their history. And it includes the many-faceted quest these efforts faced. There is also substantial coverage of
for freedom in which African Americans have sought to African-American military service, from the War for In-
counter white oppression and racism with the egalitarian dependence through American wars of the nineteenth
spirit of the Declaration of Independence that American and twentieth centuries.
society professes to embody. During the late nineteenth century and much of
Nurtured by black historian Carter G. Woodson the twentieth century, racial segregation and racially
during the early decades of the twentieth century, motivated violence that relegated African Americans
African-American
history has blossomed as a field to second-class citizenship provoked despair, but also
xviii
Preface xix
inspired resistance and commitment to change. Chapters Chapter 2 There is more information on “African
on the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries cover Women on Slave Ships.” The discussion of “seasoning”
the Great Migration from the cotton fields of the South to has been clarified.
the North and West, black nationalism, and the H arlem Chapter 3 The section on “The Spanish Empire”
Renaissance. Chapters on the 1930s and 1940s—the has been eliminated and replaced with “The Spanish,
beginning of a period of revolutionary change for African French, and Dutch,” which emphasizes the role of
Americans—tell of the economic devastation and politi- Africans and people of African descent in those areas
cal turmoil caused by the Great Depression, the growing of the New World. There have also been revisions made
influence of black culture in America, the emergence of to the section on “The British and Jamestown.”
black internationalism, and the racial tensions caused by
black participation in World War II.
Chapter 5 The section on “The War of 1812” has been
revised. A new featured essay, Connecting the Past,
The final chapters tell the story of African Ameri-
“The Great Awakening and the Black Church,” follows
cans in the closing decades of the twentieth century and
the chapter.
the dawn of the twenty-first century. They portray the
freedom struggles and legislative successes of the civil Chapter 7 “The Jacksonian Era” has been reworked.
rights movement at its peak during the 1950s and 1960s Chapter 8 To clarify the text, two headings have been
and the electoral political victories of the black power changed: “A Country in Turmoil” to “The Path Toward
movement during the more conservative 1970s and a More Radical Antislavery Movement;” and “Political
1980s. Finally, there are discussions of black life in the Paranoia” to “Slavery and Politics.”
twenty-first century and the election and reelection of
Chapter 10 There is a new featured essay, Connecting
Barack Obama, the first African-American president of
the Past, exploring “The Narrative of Frederick Douglass
the United States.
and Black Autobiography,” which follows the chapter.
In all, African Americans: A Concise History tells a
compelling story of survival, struggle, and triumph over Chapter 11 The number of casualties sustained in
adversity. It will leave students with an appreciation of the Civil War has been revised upward to 750,000 in
the central place of black people and black culture in this keeping with recent research as has the number of
country and a better understanding of both African- black men who served in the U.S. Navy during the
American and American history. Civil War.
Chapter 12 The discussion of the devastating impact
What’s New in the fifth that the Civil War had on the South has been expanded,
and there is more information on widespread disease
Edition among African Americans following the War.
Every chapter in the fifth edition of African Americans: Chapter 13 There is a new section on the Ellenton
A Concise History has been revised and improved with riot in South Carolina in 1876. There is a new featured
updated scholarship. A new feature at the end of each essay, Connecting the Past, on voting rights and
part, Connecting the Past, examines important mile- politics, which follows the chapter.
stones of the African-American experience over time.
Chapter 14 The discussion of memories of the Civil
These six featured essays examine the evolution of the
War among black and white people has been revised.
black church, the development of black autobiography,
There is more information on the desire among black
black migration, desegregation of the military, and black
people to acquire land.
culture. There are new in-depth MyHistoryLab activities
that explore events and issues using interactive maps on Chapter 15 There is additional information on the
a key event within the chapters. origins of the term “buffalo soldiers” and on black
women in the west including black “cowgirls.”
Chapter Revision Highlights Chapter 16 There is a revised discussion of Booker
Chapter 1 The section on the “Birth of Humanity” has T. Washington’s dinner with President Theodore
been revised as has the section entitled “The Ancient Roosevelt in 1901. Information has been added on the
Manuscripts of Timbuktu.” Great Migration, and there is a new table on migration,
50,000 slaves liberated themselves in the days and weeks following Lincoln’s proclamation.
The Emancipation Proclamation remains one of the most important documents in American
history. It made the Civil War a war to free people as well as to preserve the Union, and it gave
the Union cause moral authority. And as many black people had freed themselves before the
Proclamation, many more would liberate themselves after.
It seems strange how our aversion to seeing enjoy our liberty today.
Chapter 24 There is a new discussion of the four 226 suffering 11
CHAPTER is overcome in war,—how
LIBERATION: we are ableAND THE CIVIL WAR
AFRICAN AMERICANS
to see the most sickening sights, such as men
11-2
stages in the evolution of black politics. Information with their limbs blown off and mangled by the
Black Men Fight for the Union
deadly shells, without a shudder; and instead
1. How does Taylor describe what men in
combat endure? 11-3
on the reelection of Barack Obama to a second term is of turning away, how we hurry to assist in al-
11-5up their
leviating their pain, bind wounds, and
2. Who is the object of Taylor’s criticism,
What was the role of black men in and the Northern
why does military and what
she offer it? difficulties
did they face?
new as is a map of voters and a demographic chart of press the cool water to their parched lips, with
feelings only of sympathy and pity. . . . Proclamation not only
The Emancipation
source: Susie King Taylor, Reminiscences of My Life in Camp (Boston:
marked the beginning of the end of slavery but
11-4
Taylor, 1902), 31–32, 51–52.
the 2012 electorate. There is also a new chart depicting I look around also
nowauthorized
that our younger generation
and see thethe
enjoy, and
comforts
enlistment of black troops in the Union Army. Just as white leaders in
think of
the North came to realize the preservation of the Union Read onnecessitated
MyHistoryLabthe abolition
Document: of slavery,
An 11-5
select accomplishments of President Obama’s first term. the blood that was shed
theytoalso
possible for them, Union
make
and seewas
how
thesetocomforts
began
to little
understand that black men were
some
triumph in of
the Civil War.
African-American
needed for the
Her Service, 1902
Army Laundress
military Describes
effort if the
11-1 11-6
There is an added a new featured essay, Connecting Like the decision to free the slaves, the decision to employ black troops proceeded
neither smoothly nor logically. The commitment to the Civil War as a white man’s war
the Past, on the significance of black culture, which 11-2 Marginal glossary terms throughout the chapter
was entrenched, and many white northerners opposed the initial attempts to enlist black
troops. Asindiscriminately—as
cabinet. But rather than retaliate with emancipation, Lincoln
General moved slowly
Order 11 from outright opposition to cautious
required—the 11-7
follows the chapter. guide the student to key terms for review.
acceptance
cabinet decided to punish only those to enthusiastic
responsible forsupport for enlisting
the killings, if andblack
whenmentheyinwere
prehended. But no one was punished during or after the war. Instead, black troops exacted
the Union
ap- Army.
11-3
The around
First South Carolina Volunteers 11-8
revenge themselves. In fighting Petersburg later that year, black soldiers shouting
View on Some Union officers recruited black men long before emancipation was proclaimed and before
“Remember Fort Pillow!” reportedly
MyHistoryLab
murdered several Confederate prisoners.
11-4 most white northerners were prepared to accept, much less welcome, black troops. In May
On theirLook:
Closer own, Union commanders in the field also retaliated for the Confederate
Black Read on 11-9
About African Americans: Unionof
treatment Soldiers 1862 General David Hunter began recruiting former slaves along the South Carolina
captured black troops. When captured black men were virtually enslaved and
11-5 forced to work at Richmond
and the sea islands, an area Union forces had captured in late 1861. But some black
notand
wantCharleston onHunter
to enlist, and Confederate fortifications
used white that
troops to force were
black menunder
coast
MyHistoryLab
men did
Document
to “volunteer”Exploring
for military
470 PART IV Searching for Safe Spaces CHAPTER 17 AFRICAN AMERICANS AND THE 1920S 471
ence over time: evolution of the black church, the cans lived in Chicago and its suburbs.
This huge growth in the city’s black
population was part of the Great Mi-
gration, the largest internal movement
grants. Black people who already lived
in northern cities looked down on the
“countrified” ways of the new arrivals and
ridiculed the way they talked, dressed,
Supplementary
of southern slaves escaped to freedom in cal power was one of the unexpected
the northern states and Canada by way consequences of the Great Migration.
African-American men, women, and children who participated in the Great Migration to the north, By the middle of the twentieth century, several million African Americans lived in densely populated urban
with suitcases and luggage placed in front, Chicago, 1918. of the underground railroad. In the late Black men and women voted freely in communities throughout the nation. Here are residents of Harlem on Seventh Avenue on a cold February day in 1956.
1870s, economic and political oppres- the North and West. Living together in
sion led as many as 40,000 former slaves black neighborhoods afforded them the opportunity to elect black city councilmen, alder-
Instructional Materials
known as Exodusters to leave the South and move west to Kansas and Oklahoma. About the men, and congressmen. By the 1950s, black men from Chicago, Detroit, Philadelphia, and
same time a small number of freedmen left the United States and went to Liberia in West Africa. Harlem served in the U.S. House of Representatives. In the 1960s and 1970s, black may-
But it was the twentieth century’s Great Migration that prompted recent and profound po- ors were elected in Cleveland, Newark, Detroit, and Los Angeles. Democratic presidential
litical and economic changes in American society. Most of these migrants boarded segregated candidates Harry Truman in 1948 and John F. Kennedy in 1960 relied on black voters in
passenger trains in southern towns to travel on the overground railroad to northern and west- northern cities to provide them with margins of victory.
ern communities. Unlike the nineteenth century abolitionist movement and the civil rights The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 eradicated Jim Crow
movement of the 1950s and 1960s, no dynamic organizations or inspirational leaders were in the South. The Great Migration began to reverse itself. Black people who had migrated
involved in this remarkable resettlement. Instead, individuals, husbands, wives, and friends to northern communities in the 1940s and 1950s began to retire in the 1980s and 1990s to
In preparing African Americans: A Concise History, we Kansas City; Caroline Cox, University of the P acific;
have benefited from the work of many scholars and the Mary Ellen Curtin, Southwest Texas State Univer-
help of colleagues, librarians, friends, and family. sity; Henry Vance Davis, Ramapo College of NJ; Roy F.
Special thanks are due to the following scholars for Finkenbine, Wayne State University; Dr. Jessie Gas-
their substantial contributions to the development of The ton, California State University, Sacramento; Abiodun
African-American Odyssey, from which this concise edi- Goke-Pariola, Georgia Southern University; Robert Gregg,
tion has been crafted: Hilary Mac Austin, Chicago, Illinois; Richard Stockton College of NJ; Keith Griffler, University
Brian W. Dippie, University of Victoria; Thomas Doughton, of Cincinnati; John H. Haley, University of North Carolina
Holy Cross College; W. Marvin Dulaney, College of at Wilmington; Robert V. Hanes, Western Kentucky Uni-
Charleston; Sherry DuPree, Rosewood Heritage Founda- versity; Julia Robinson Harmon, Western Michigan
tion; Peter Banner-Haley, Colgate University; Robert L. University; Ebeneazer Hunter, De Anza College; Eric R.
Harris, Jr., Cornell University; Wanda Hendricks, Univer- Jackson, Northern Kentucky University; Wali R ashash
sity of South Carolina; Rickey Hill, Mississippi Valley State Kharif, Tennessee Technological University; John W.
University; William B. Hixson, Michigan State University; King, Temple University; Joseph Kinner, Gallaudet Uni-
Barbara Williams Jenkins, formerly of South Carolina State versity; Lester C. Lamon, Indiana University, South
University; Earnestine Jenkins, University of Memphis; Bend; Eric Love, University of Colorado-Boulder; John F.
Hannibal Johnson, Tulsa, Oklahoma; Wilma King, Uni- Marszalek, Mississippi State University; Kenneth Mason,
versity of Missouri, Columbia; Karen Kossie-Chernyshev, Santa Monica College; Andrew T. Miller, Union Col-
Texas Southern University; Frank C. Martin, South Carolina lege; Diane Batts Morrow, University of Georgia; Ruddy
State University; Jacqueline McLeod, Metropolitan State Pearson, American College; Walter Rucker, University of
University of Denver; Freddie Parker, North Carolina Nebraska, Lincoln; Josh Sides, California State University,
Central University; Christopher R. Reed, Roosevelt Uni- Northridge; Manisha Sinha, University of Massachusetts,
versity; Linda Reed, University of Houston; Mark Steg- Amherst; John David Smith, North Carolina State Univer-
maier, Cameron University; Robert Stewart, Trinity School, sity at Raleigh; Marshall Stevenson, Ohio State University;
New York; Matthew Whitaker, Arizona State University; Betty Joe Wallace, A ustin Peay State University; Matthew
Barbara Woods, South Carolina State University; Andrew C. Whitaker, Arizona State University; Harry Williams,
Workman, Mills College; Deborah Wright, Avery Research Carleton College; Vernon J. W illiams, Jr., Purdue Univer-
Center, College of Charleston. sity; Leslie Wilson, Montclair State University; Andrew
We are grateful to the reviewers through six editions Workman, Mills College; Marilyn L. Yancy, Virginia
who devoted valuable time to reading and commenting Union University.
on The African-American Odyssey and African Ameri- We wish to thank the following reviewers for their
cans: A Concise History. Their insightful suggestions insightful comments in preparation for the revision of
greatly improved the quality of the text: L eslie Alexan- The African-American Odyssey, which is the basis for
der, The Ohio State University; Carol Anderson, Univer- the concise edition: Leslie Alexander, The Ohio State
sity of Missouri, Columbia; Abel A. Bartley, University University; Lila Ammons, Howard University; Beverly
of Akron; Jennifer L. Baszile, Yale University; James M. Bunch-Lyons, Virginia Technical College; Latangela
Beeby, West Virginia Wesleyan College; Richard A. Crossfield, Clark Atlanta University; Linda Denkins,
Buckelew, Bethune-Cookman College; Claude A. Houston Community College; Lillie Edwards, Drew Uni-
Clegg, Indiana University; Gregory Conerly, Cleveland versity; Jim Harper, North Carolina Central University;
State University; Delia Cook, University of Missouri at Dr. Maurice Hobson, University of Mississippi; Alyce
xxii
Acknowledgments xxiii
Miller, John Tyler Community College; Zacharia Nchinda, Emily Harrold, Judy Harrold, Carol A. Hine, and
University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee; Melinda Pash, Thomas D. Hine.
Fayetteville Technical Community College; Charmayne Finally, we gratefully acknowledge the essential help
Patterson, Clark Atlanta University; Matthew Schaffer, of the superb editorial and production team at Prentice
Florence Darlington Technical College; Denise Scifres, Hall: Charlyce Jones Owen, Publisher, whose vision got
City Colleges of Chicago, Center for Distance Learning; this project started and whose unwavering support saw
Linda Tomlinson, Fayetteville State U niversity; Angela it through to completion; Maureen Diana, Editorial As-
Winand, University of Illinois, Springfield; Erica Woods- sistant; Rochelle Diogenes, Editor-in-Chief of Develop-
Warrior, Hampton University. ment; Maria Lange, Creative Design Director; Ann M arie
Many librarians provided valuable help tracking McCarthy, Senior Managing Editor; and Emsal Hasan,
down important material. They include Avery Daniels, Project Manager, who saw it efficiently through produc-
Ruth Hodges, Doris Johnson, the late Barbara Keitt, Cathi tion; Marianne Gloriande, Manufacturing Buyer; Wendy
Cooper Mack, Mary L. Smalls, Ashley Till, and Adrienne Albert, Senior Marketing Manager; Beverly Fong, Pro-
Webber, all of Miller F. Whittaker Library, South Carolina gram Manager; and Monica Ohlinger Group, who pulled
State University; James Brooks and Jo Cottingham of together the book’s supplementary material.
the interlibrary loan department, Cooper Library, Uni- We owe a special and heartfelt debt of gratitude
versity of South Carolina; and Allan Stokes of the South to our development editor, the late Gerald Lombardi.
Caroliniana Library at the University of South Carolina. Gerald worked closely and conscientiously with us
Dr. Marshanda Smith and Kathleen Thompson provided for five editions. This is a better book b ecause of his
important documents and other source material. efforts.
Seleta Simpson Byrd of South Carolina State Uni-
versity and Marshanda Smith of Northwestern Univer-
sity provided valuable administrative assistance. D.C.H.
Each of us also enjoyed the support of family mem- W.C.H.
bers, particularly Barbara A. Clark, Robbie D. Clark, S.H.
About the Authors
Darlene Clark Hine Indiana University Press, 1989). She continues to work
on the forthcoming book project The Black Professional
Darlene Clark Hine is Board of Trustees Professor of Class: Physicians, Nurses, Lawyers, and the Origins of the
African-American Studies and Professor of History at Civil Rights Movement, 1890–1955.
Northwestern University. She is a fellow of the A merican
Academy of Arts and Sciences, as well as past president William C. Hine
of the Organization of A merican Historians and of the
Southern Historical Association. Hine received her BA at William C. Hine received his undergraduate education
Roosevelt University in Chicago, and her MA and Ph.D. at Bowling Green State University, his master’s degree at
from Kent State University, Kent, Ohio. Hine has taught the University of Wyoming, and his Ph.D. at Kent State
at South Carolina State University and at Purdue Univer- University. He is a Professor of History at South Carolina
sity. She was a fellow at the Center for Advanced Study State University. He has had articles published in several
in the Behavioral Sciences at Stanford University and at journals, including Agricultural History, Labor History,
the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Studies at Harvard and the Journal of Southern History. He is currently writ-
University. She is the author and/or co-editor of 20 books, ing a history of South Carolina State University.
most recently The Black Chicago Renaissance (Urbana:
University of Illinois Press, 2012), Black Europe and the
Stanley Harrold
African Diaspora (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, Stanley Harrold, Professor of History at South Carolina
2010), co-edited with Trica Danielle Keaton and Stephen State University, received his bachelor’s degree from
Small; Beyond Bondage: Free Women of Color in the Amer- Allegheny College and his master’s and Ph.D. degrees
icas (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2005), co-edited from Kent State University. He is co-editor of Southern
with Barry Gaspar; and The Harvard Guide to African- Dissent, a book series published by the University Press
American History (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, of Florida. In 1991–1992 and 1996–1997 he had National
2000), co-edited with Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham and Endowment for the Humanities Fellowships. In 2005
Leon Litwack. She co-edited a two-volume set with Ear- and 2013 he received NEH Faculty Research Awards. His
nestine Jenkins, A Question of Manhood: A Reader in books include Gamaliel Bailey and Antislavery Union (Kent,
U.S. Black Men’s History and Masculinity (Bloomington: Ohio: Kent State University Press, 1986), The Abolitionists
Indiana University Press, 1999, 2001); and with Jacque- and the South (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky,
line McLeod, Crossing Boundaries: Comparative History 1995), Antislavery Violence: Sectional, Racial, and Cultural
of Black People in Diaspora (Bloomington: Indiana Uni- Conflict in Antebellum America (co-edited with John R.
versity Press, 2000). With Kathleen Thompson she wrote McKivigan, Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1999),
A Shining Thread of Hope: The History of Black Women American Abolitionists (Harlow, U.K.: Longman, 2001),
in America (New York: Broadway Books, 1998), and Subversives: Antislavery Community in Washington, D.C.,
edited with Barry Gaspar More Than Chattel: Black Women 1828–1865 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press,
and Slavery in the Americas (Bloomington: Indiana Uni- 2003), The Rise of Aggressive Abolitionism: Addresses to the
versity Press, 1996). She won the Dartmouth Medal of the Slaves (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2004),
American Library Association for the reference volumes Civil War and Reconstruction: A Documentary Reader
co-edited with Elsa Barkley Brown and Rosalyn Terborg- (Oxford, U.K.: Blackwell, 2007), and Border War: Fighting
Penn, Black Women in America: An Historical Encyclopedia Over Slavery before the Civil War (Chapel Hill: University
(New York: Carlson Publishing, 1993). She is the author of North Carolina Press, 2010). He has published articles in
of Black Women in White: Racial Conflict and Coopera- Civil War History, Journal of Southern History, Radical His-
tion in the Nursing Profession, 1890–1950 (Bloomington: tory Review, and Journal of the Early Republic.
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with Unrelated Content
“How do you reckon,” he glanced at the drawn face beside him,
“how do you reckon they got on to me as—as the main leader?”
Purvynes was quite sure he could answer the question. “Nape
Welborne's gang give it away. They've been braggin' right an' left
about how Nape forced you to back down that night. They've been
drunk an' talked 'fore black an' white like a pack o' fools.”
“But from this,” Hoag tapped the fence with the folded sheet, “it
looks like the nigger that wrote, this thinks I am still the head.”
“An' so much the worse,” Purvynes moaned, and he clutched the
fence nervously as if to steady himself. “You an' me an' all us old
members has to suffer for the drunken pranks of them young
roustabouts. When they shot up nigger-town last week, an' abused
the women an' children, the darkies laid it at our door. In fact, that is
the cause of this very move. It was the last straw, as the sayin' is.
They've got plumb desperate, an' when niggers work underhand
they will resort to anything. It's quar, as my wife says, that we never
thought they might turn the tables an' begin our own game.”
Hoag shrugged his shoulders, but made no comment. His shaggy
brows had met and overlapped. His eyes had the glare of a beast at
bay.
“My wife thought”—Purvynes evidently felt that the point was a
delicate one, but he made it with more ease than he could have
done on any former occasion—“she thought maybe your boy Henry
might have got onto you an' talked reckless, but if he did, Cap, it
was some time ago, for the boy ain't like he used to be. He's more
serious-like. I got it straight from one o' the gang he used to run
with that he's really quit his old ways an' gone to work.”
“It's Nape Welborne's lay-out,” Hoag declared. “They've done it
out o' pure spite an' enmity ag'in' me.”
Purvynes had averted his eyes; he seemed to feel that the
conversation was drifting into useless waters, so far as he was
personally concerned. “Well, I just come over. Cap, to ask you what
you think I ought to do.” he finally got out, as if aided by his clutch
on the fence, to which he clung quite automatically.
“You?” Hoag emphasized the word.
“Why, yes, me. You see, Cap, my women say they simply won't
stay here a single day longer. They are scared as nigh death as any
folks you ever saw. That's why I come to you for—for advice an' to
ax a favor. I'm in an awful plight. I owe a good deal on my land. My
brother is well fixed, out in Texas, you know, an' I can move thar,
but I'll have to raise some ready cash. My farm would be good for
another loan, an' you are the only money-lender I know. You see,
you know why I have to have the money, an' I couldn't explain so
well to a bank. So my wife said—”
“I don't care what she said.” Hoag's mind seemed to be making
rapid flights to and from his own numerous holdings. “If you think
you got anything at stake, look at me,” he plunged, dejectedly.
“Why, the black imps could—could—”
“I ain't carin' about my farm,” Purvynes broke in irrelevantly. “It's
peace of mind I want, an' freedom from the awful chatter of my
folks. Even the little ones are scared half to death. They've picked up
a word here an' thar an' follow me about whimperin' an' beggin' to
be tuck to a place of safety. Women may know how to scrub an'
cook an' sew, but they can't keep a secret like our'n when they are
under pressure like this. The wives of all the old klan—mark my
words—will be together before twelve o'clock to-day. They will brand
the'rselves an' us by it, but they won't care a red cent. They'd go to
the gallows in a bunch if they could talk about it beforehand. Cap, a
hundred dollars is all I need, an'—”
“Don't call me Cap no more,” Hoag snapped, angrily, “an' don't ask
me for money, either. I hain't got none to lend. Besides, you can't
leave your property no more than I can mine. We've got to stay
an'—”
“Your wife's dead, Cap—Jim, I mean—an' you kin talk, but my
folks will git away from these mountains if they have to foot it on
ragged uppers. They simply won't stay. Jim, my trouble is a sight
deeper than I've admitted. I—I feel like a dead man that nobody
cares enough about to bury. Say, I'm goin' to tell you, an' then I
know you will pity me if it is in you to pity any man. Jim, I always
thought my wife loved me as much as the average woman loves the
father of her children; but last night—last night, away late, when she
couldn't sleep, she come over to my bed an' set down on the rail an'
talked straighter than she ever has in her life. Jim, she said—she
said she thought I ought to be willin' to go away for good an' all, an'
leave 'er an' the children, since I was responsible for this calamity.
She said she was sure her an' the children would be let alone if I'd
go clean off an' never show up ag'in, an' that she'd rather work 'er
fingers to the bone than be bothered like she is. Lord, Lord, Jim, I
felt so awful that I actually cried an' begged for mercy like a
whipped child. I'd always thought she was a soft-hearted, lovin'
woman, but she was as hard as flint. She said she'd rather never lay
eyes on me ag'in than have this thing hangin' over her an' the
children. She finally agreed, if I'd git the money from you an' leave
at once, that maybe her an' the rest would follow. So that's why I
come to see you. Jim, a rich man like you can rake up a small
amount like that to accommodate an old—”
“And leave me with the bag to hold.” Hoag's misery was eager for
any sort of company. “I won't lend you a cent—not a cent!” he
snorted. “We've got to—to fight this thing out. No bunch o' lazy
niggers can scare the life out o' me.”
“But we are tied hand an' foot, Jim,” Purvynes faltered. “The black
brain that writ that warnin' is equal to a white man's when it comes
to that sort o' warfare. I know the threat word for word by heart. I
can shut my eyes an' see the skull an' bones. Even if we went to law
for protection we'd have to show that sheet, an' you wouldn't want
to do that as it stands, an' I don't believe all the Governor's guards
in the State could help us out, for in these mountains the niggers kin
stay under cover an' pick us off one by one as we walk about, like
sharpshooters lyin' in the weeds an' behind trees an' rocks. Then
thar is a danger that maybe you hain't thought of.”
“What's that?” Hoag asked, with a dumb stare into the other's
waxlike countenance.
“Why, if they take a notion they kin poison all the drinkin'-water
anywhars about. Niggers don't look far ahead. They wouldn't even
think o' the widespread results to them as well as us.”
A desperate look of conviction crept across Hoag's eyes. At this
juncture he heard the front door of his house open, and, turning, he
saw Jack come out on the veranda and eagerly start down the steps
toward him.
“Stay thar!” Hoag waved his hand dejectedly. “I'm comin' up right
away.”
Jack paused on the steps, a beautiful figure with supple, slender
limbs, high, white brow under waving curls. Even at that distance,
and through the lowering mists which lay on the grass like downy
feathers dropped from the wings of dawn, the two men marked the
boy's expression of startled surprise over being so peremptorily
stopped. He sat down on the steps, his beautiful eyes fixed
inquiringly on his father.
“I'd send that boy off, anyway,” Purvynes said, as if thinking for
himself.
“You say you would!” slowly and from a mouth that twitched.
“What do you mean by—that?”
“I mean all the niggers know how you dote on 'im, Jim. I've heard
folks say that they didn't believe you ever loved any other human
alive or dead. The niggers that got up that warnin' wouldn't hesitate
to strike at you even through a purty innocent chap like that.”
Hoag dropped his stare to the ground. He clutched a paling with a
pulseless hand and leaned forward. “I reckon maybe you are right,”
he muttered. “I've heard of 'em doin' the like, even kidnappin' an'
makin' threats of bodily torture.”
Hoag glanced at his son again, and, catching his eyes, he waved
his hand and forced a smile. “I'm comin'!” he called out. “See if our
breakfast is ready. We'll have it together.”
He was turning away as if forgetful of the caller's presence, when
Purvynes stopped him.
“What about that money, Jim?” he inquired, slowly, desperately.
“I can't let you have it,” was Hoag's ultimatum, in a rising tone of
blended despair and surliness. “We've got to fix some way to head
this thing off an' must stand together. Your folks will have to be
reasonable. I'll come over an' talk to—”
“No, no, no, no!” in rapid-fire. “Don't come about, Jim. That would
scare 'em worse than ever. They was afraid some nigger might see
me here this mornin', an' if you was to come—”
“Huh, I'll be looked on like a leper in a pest-house 'fore long, I
reckon!” Hoag snarled, but perhaps not so much from anger as from
a sense of the fitness of the remark.
“Well, don't come, Jim,” Purvynes repeated, bluntly. “If you hain't
got no money for me, all well an' good, but don't come about. My
women are crazy, an' the sight of you wouldn't help at all.”
CHAPTER XXIV
I
N the few days immediately following this incident Hoag became
convinced that he had reached the gravest crisis of his career.
For the first time in his experience his helplessness was as real a
thing as had been his prowess in the past. A drab veil reeking with
despair seemed to hang between him and every visible object. He
looked in stunned amazement at the people who were going on with
their daily duties as if nothing serious had happened or was
impending. He saw them smile, heard them laugh, and noted their
interest in the smallest details.
Death! He had been absolutely blind to its claims, but now it had
taken a grim clutch upon his mind. It was made plain by men whom
he had seen die—yes, by men whom he had caused to die. Their
pleadings rang in his ears, and they themselves seemed to dog his
steps like vague shapes from a persistent nightmare.
In some unaccountable way he was conscious of a sense of being
less and less attached to his body. There were moments in which he
felt that his limbs were dead, while he himself was as vital as ever.
He was in a sort of conscious trance, in which his soul was trying to
break the bonds of the flesh, and flee to some point of safety which
was constantly appearing and vanishing.
Above all, the sight of his child playing about the place was the
most incongruous. He avoided joining Jack on the lawn at any time,
fearing that the act might result in disaster of some easily
comprehensible sort. But within the house he tried to atone for the
neglect by a surplus of affection. He would hold the boy in his arms
for hours at a time and fondle him as he had never fondled him
before. He became desperate in his confinement to the house, and
one day he decided that he would visit some of the most faithful of
his friends, and on his horse he started out. He rode from farm to
farm, but soon noticed that a rare thing was happening. Invariably
the women, like awed, impounded cattle, would come to the doors,
and with downcast eyes and halting voices inform him that their
fathers or husbands were away. At one farm he saw Bert Wilson, the
owner, and one of the older members of the klan, on the bank of the
little creek which ran through his place, and hitching his horse to the
rail fence, Hoag, unnoticed by the farmer, climbed over and
approached him. Wilson was fishing, and with his eyes on his rod
failed to see Hoag till he was suddenly addressed.
“Hello, what sort o' luck?” Hoag asked, assuming a lightness of
tone and mien that was foreign to his habit.
The man was heavy-set, florid, unbearded, and past middle age.
He turned suddenly; his blue eyes flashed and glowed; he looked
toward the roof of his house above the thicket in the distance and
furtively bent his neck to view the road as if fearful of being seen.
“Oh, just so so!” he answered, doggedly.
“What sort o' bait are you usin'?”
“Crickets an' grasshoppers. The traps up at your mill catch all the
big fish. Minnows an' suckers are good enough for us common folks,
Jim Hoag.”
“I'm goin' to do away with them traps, Bert,” Hoag said,
diplomatically, and he sank down on the grass, and thrusting his
hands into his pockets he took out two cigars and some matches.
“Have a smoke,” he said, holding a cigar toward the fisherman.
“No, thanky.” Wilson drew his line from the water and looked at
the hook. Hoag noted, with a touch of dismay, that the hook held no
vestige of bait, and yet the fisherman gravely lowered it into the
water and stood regarding it with a sullen stare.
“Hain't quit smokin', have you?”
Wilson stole another look at the road, and allowed his glance to
sweep on to his house. Then he raised his rod, caught the swinging
line in a firm grip, and glared at the face in the cloud of blue smoke.
“I ain't a-goin' to use none o' yore tobacco, Jim Hoag.” The words
sank deep into the consciousness of the listener.
“You say you ain't!” Hoag shrank visibly. Desperate compromises
filtered into his brain, only to be discarded. “Say, Bert, what's got
into you, anyway?”
The fat man hesitated. His cheeks and brow flushed red.
“This much has got into me, Hoag,” he began, “an' I'm man
enough to speak out open. Us fellows have been followin' your lead
like a damned lot o' idiotic sheep. You always talked up protection,
protection to our women an' homes, when it now looks like you was
just doin' it to feel your importance as a leader in some'n or other.
You kept the thing a-goin', rid it like a hobby-hoss. Time after time
my judgment told me to stay out o' the raids you instigated, but thar
was always a fool notion among us that what one done all had to do
or be disgraced, an' so we went on until natural hatred o' you an'
your bull-headed game has brought down this calamity. Now, what I
ask, an' what a lot more of us ask, is fur you to take your medicine
like a man, an' not pull us into the scrape. If you will do this, all well
an' good. You are the only one singled out so far, an' if you will stay
away from the rest of us, an' not draw fire on us, all may go well;
but, Jim Hoag—I reckon it's my Scotch blood a-talkin' now—if you
don't do it, as God is my holy witness I wouldn't be astonished to
see the old klan rise an'—an' make an example of you, to satisfy the
niggers an' show whar we stand. I needn't say no more. You know
what I mean. The klan has turned ag'in' you. You fooled 'em a long
time; but since you knuckled down to Nape Welborne like you did
they believe YOU are a rank coward, an', Jim Hoag, no coward kin
force hisse'f on a lot o' men with families when by doin' it he puts
'em all in danger. Most of us believe that if you was shot, or
poisoned, an' put plumb out o' the way, this thing would blow over.
You kin act fair about this, or you needn't; but if you don't do it you
will be made to. You fed an' pampered this thing up an' it has turned
its claws an' fangs ag'in' you—that is all. I'm desperate myself. You
are a rich man, but, by God! I feel like spittin' in your face, as you
set thar smokin' so calm when my wife an' children are unable to
sleep at night, an' afraid to go to the spring in daytime. Now, I'll say
good-momin'. I'm goin' furder down the creek, an' I don't want you
to follow me.”
“Looky' here, Bert.” There was a piteous, newborn frailty in Hoag's
utterance. “Listen a minute. I—”
“I'm done with you,” Wilson waved his hand firmly. “Not another
word. You are in a hell of a plight, but it don't concern me. Under
your rule I was tryin' to protect my family, an' now that I am from
under it I'll do the same. My folks come fust with me.”
With the sun in his face, his knees drawn close to his chin, Hoag
sat and watched the man as he stolidly strode away through the
wind-stirred broom-sedge. The drooping willows, erect cane-brake,
and stately mullein stalks formed a curtain of green which seemed to
hang from the blue dome covered with snowy clouds. When Wilson
had disappeared Hoag slowly rose to his feet, and plodded across
the field to his horse. Here again, in mounting, he experienced the
odd weightiness of his feet and legs, as if his mental unrest had
deprived them of all physical vitality, and him of the means of
restoring it.
Reaching home, he went to the barn-yard to turn his horse over to
Cato. The negro was always supposed to be there at that hour, but
though Hoag called loudly several times there was no response.
Swearing impatiently, and for the first time shrinking from his own
oaths, he took off the bridle and saddle and fed the animal. While he
was in the stall he heard a sudden, cracking sound in the loft
overhead, and his heart sank like a plummet into deep water.
Crouching down under the wooden trough, he drew his revolver and
cocked it. For a moment he held his breath. Then the cackling of a
hen in the hay above explained the sound, and restoring his revolver
to his pocket he went to the house.
Mrs. Tilton was at her churn in the side-gallery. Her slow,
downward strokes and easy poise of body seemed wholly apart from
the uncanny realm which he occupied alone. She looked up and
eyed him curiously over her silver-rimmed spectacles.
“Whar's that nigger Cato?” he demanded.
“I'm afraid he's left for good,” she returned. “He's acted odd all
day—refused outright to fetch water to the kitchen. I told 'im I'd
report to you, but he stood with the most impudent look on his face,
an' wouldn't budge an inch. Then I watched an' saw him go in his
cabin. Purty soon he come out with a bundle under his arm, an'
started toward town. After he was out o' sight I went to his shack
an' found that he had taken all his things—every scrap he could call
his own. I reckon he's off for good. Aunt Dilly won't talk much, but
she thinks it is all due to the raid the mountain men made on the
negroes in town the other night. I know you wasn't in that, Jim,
because you was here at home.”
“No, I wasn't in it.”
“I certainly am glad of it.” The woman seemed to churn the words
into her butter. “The whole thing has been run in the ground. It is
near cotton-pickin' time, an' if the niggers all leave the country help,
won't be had. The crops will rot in the field for the lack o' hands to
pick it from the bolls.”
Hoag passed on into the house and through the hall into his own
chamber. Here the air seemed oppressively warm, the plastered
walls giving out heat as from the closed door of a furnace. Throwing
off his coat, he sat down before a window. Such a maze and
multiplicity of thoughts had never before beset his brain. The
incidents of his life, small and large, marched past with the
regularity of soldiers. How strange that Sid Trawley's face, ablaze
with its new light, should emerge so frequently from amid the
others! How odd that he should recall Paul Rundel's notion of giving
himself up to the law and suffering the consequences of his
supposed crime! And the effect on both men had been astounding.
Sid had nothing to fear, and to Paul all good things were falling as
naturally as rain from clouds. Then there was Henry, who had
suddenly turned about and was making a man of himself.
At this moment a childish voice was heard singing a plantation
melody. It was Jack at play on the lawn. Hoag leaned from the
window and saw the boy, with hammer and nails, mending a toy
wagon. Paul Rundel was entering the gate. Hoag noted the puckered
lips of his manager and heard his merry whistle. He saw him pause,
tenderly stroke Jack's waving curls, and smile. Who had ever seen a
face more thoroughly at peace than this young man's—a smile more
spontaneous?
Hoag went to the front door and stood waiting for Paul to
approach. The terror within him suggested that the young man
might bring fresh news concerning the things he so much dreaded.
“Be careful, Jack,” Paul was advising the boy. “If you start to coast
down a steep hill in that thing you might not be able to guide it, and
—zip! against a tree or stump you'd go, an' we'd have to fish you out
among the splinters.” This was followed by some low-spoken
directions from Paul, in which the listener on the veranda caught the
words, “friction,” “nuts and bolts,” “lubricating oil,” and “electric
motor.”
Then the young man turned, and seeing Hoag he came on. There
was a triumphant beam in his eye, an eager flush in his cheeks, as
he approached the steps.
“Glad you are at home,” he began. “I was going to look you up the
first thing.”
“Did you want to—see me about—I mean—”
“Yes, I've landed that thing at last—put it through.”
“You say you've—” Hoag's thoughts were widely scattered. “You
say—”
“Why, the shingle contract, you remember.” Paul stared
wonderingly. “You know you were afraid the Louisville parties would
not sign up at my price, but they have. They take ten car-loads of
pine stock at that figure and give us two years to fill the order. But
have you”—Paul was studying the man's face—“have you changed
your mind? Yesterday you thought—”
“Oh, it's all right—it's splendid!” Hoag's voice was lifeless; he
looked away with the fixed stare of a somnambulist; he wiped his
brow with his broad hand and dried it on his trousers. “You say they
take five cars?”
“They take ten,” Paul repeated, his elation oozing from him like a
vapor. “It will keep our force busy summer and winter and all the
extra teams we can get. I've found a place for your idle saw-mill, too
—over at the foot of the ridge. I'm sure, when you have time to look
over my figures, that you will see plenty of profit for you and good
wages for the hands. The men are all tickled. You don't look as if
you were pleased exactly, Mr. Hoag, and if anything has happened to
change your mind—”
“Oh, I am pleased—I am—I am!” Hoag asseverated. “You've done
well—powerful well. In fact, very well. I'll glance at your figures
some time soon, but not now—not now. I'll leave it all to you,” and
Hoag retreated into the house and shut himself in his room.
CHAPTER XXV
T
HERE was a galvanized sheet-iron mail-box near the gate of
the tannery, and in it once a day a carrier passing on
horseback placed the letters and papers which came for the
family. Little Jack loved to take the key and open the box after the
carrier had passed and bring the contents to the house and
distribute it to the various recipients. Hoag sat on the veranda one
afternoon waiting for Jack, who had just gone to the box, having
heard the carrier's whistle. Presently the boy came in at the gate
holding several letters in his hands, and he brought them to his
father.
“Here's one without a stamp,” Jack smiled. “That's funny; I
thought all U. S. letters had to have stamps on them.”
Hoag saw only that particular envelope in the lot which was laid
on his knee.
“It must have been an accident,” he muttered. “The stamp may
have dropped off.”
“More likely that somebody passed along, and put the letter into
the box,” Jack's inventive mind suggested.
Hoag made no reply. He had already surmised that this might be
the case. There was a title prefixed to his name which he had never
seen written before, and it held his eyes like the charm of a deadly
reptile.
“Captain Jimmy Hoag,” was the superscription in its entirety, and
the recipient remembered having seen the scrawling script before.
Automatically he singled out the letters for Paul and for Ethel and
her mother, and sent Jack to deliver them.
When his son had disappeared Hoag rose and crept stealthily back
to his room. Why he did so he could not have explained, but he even
locked himself in, turning the key as noiselessly as a burglar might
have done in the stillness of night. He laid the envelope on the bed
and for a moment stood over it, staring down on it with desperate
eyes. Then, with quivering, inert fingers he opened it and spread out
the inclosed sheet. It bore the same skull and crossbones as the
former warning, and beneath was written:
The day and the hour is close at hand. Keep your eye on the
clock. We will do the rest.
his (Blak X Buck) mark.
That was all. Hoag took it to the fireplace, struck a match, and
was about to ignite the paper, but refrained. Extinguishing the
match, he rested a quivering elbow on the mantelpiece, and
reflected. What ought he to do with the paper? If it were found on
his dead body it would explain things not now generally known.
Dead body! How could he think of his dead body? His body, white,
cold, and lifeless, perhaps with a stare of terror in the eyes! Why, he
had never even thought of himself as being like that, and yet what
could prevent it now? What?
Some one—Ethel or her mother—was playing the piano in the
parlor. Aunt Dilly was heard singing while at work behind the house.
Jack ran through the hall, making a healthy boy's usual clatter, and
his father heard him merrily calling across the lawn to Paul Rundel
that he had left a letter for him on his table.
All this was maddening. It represented life in its full swing and
ardor, while here was something as grim and pitilessly exultant as
hell itself could devise. Hoag folded the paper in his bloodless hands
and sank upon the edge of his bed. He had used his brain shrewdly
and skilfully hitherto, and in what way could he make it serve him
now? Something must be done, but what? He could not appeal to
the law, for he had made his own laws, and they were inadequate.
He could not evoke the aid of friends, for they—such as they were—
had left him like stampeded cattle, hoping that by his death the
wrath of the hidden avenger might be appeased. He could flee and
leave all his possessions to others, but something told him that he
would be pursued.
When the dusk was falling he went out on the lawn. Ethel and
Paul were seated on a rustic bench near the summer-house, and he
avoided them. Seeing Mrs. Mayfield at the gate, he turned round
behind the house to keep from meeting and exchanging platitudes
with her. In the back yard he pottered about mechanically, inspecting
his beehives, his chicken-house and dog-kennel, receptive of only
one thought. He wondered if he were really losing his mental
balance, else why should he be so devoid of resources? He now
realized the terrible power embodied in the gruesome warnings his
brain had fashioned and circulated among a simple-minded,
superstitious people. What he was now facing they had long
cowered under. The thought of prayer, as a last resort, flashed into
his mind, but he promptly told himself that only fools prayed. Biblical
quotations flocked about him as if from his far-off childhood. And
such quotations as they were!
“Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord,” and “What is a man profited,
if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” These
things seemed to be borne to him on the breeze that swept down
from the beetling rocks of the mountains which leaned against the
star-studded sky.
After an all but sleepless night, Hoag ate breakfast with the family
the next morning, and announced his intention of running down to
Atlanta for a day or so on business. Paul wanted to ask some
questions pertaining to his work, but Hoag swept them aside with a
turgid wave of the hand.
“Run it yourself; it will be all right,” he said. “Your judgment is as
good as mine. I don't feel exactly well here lately. I have headaches
that I didn't use to have, an' I think I'll talk to a doctor down thar. I
don't know; I say maybe I will.”
Riding to town, he left his horse at Trawley's stable, and going to
the railway station below the Square he strolled about on the
platform. A locomotive's whistle several miles up the valley
announced that the train was on time. Approaching the window of
the ticket-office, which was within the little waiting-room, he found
the opening quite filled by a broad-brimmed farmer's hat, a pair of
heavy shoulders on a long body, supported by a pair of gaunt jeans-
clothed legs.
“Yes, I'm off for Texas.” He recognized Purvynes's voice in cheerful
conversation with the agent. “My brother says I ought to come. He's
got a good thing for me out thar—land's as black as a hat, an' as
rich as a stable-lot a hundred year old. He was so set on havin' me
that he lent me the money to go on. So long! Good luck to you!”
The head was withdrawn from the window; a pair of brown hands
were awkwardly folding a long green emigrant's ticket, and Purvynes
suddenly saw the man behind him.
“Hello, you off?” Hoag hastily summoned a casual tone.
The start, the dogged lowering of the head, the vanishing of
Purvynes's smile, were successive blows to the shrinking
consciousness of the inquirer.
“Yes, I'm off.” Purvynes's eyes were now shifting restlessly. Then
he lowered his voice, and a touch of malice crept into it as he
added: “You see, I didn't have to do it on your money, nuther, an'
you bet I'm glad. It's tainted if ever cash was, an' I want to shake
every grain o' Georgia dust off my feet, anyway.”
“I'm goin' as far as Atlanta,” Hoag said, tentatively. “I may see you
on the train.”
“My ticket's second class.” Purvynes shrugged his shoulders. “I'll
have to ride in the emigrant-car, next to the engine. I reckon we—
we'd better stay apart, Jim, anyhow. I want it that way,” he added,
in a low, firm tone, and with smoldering fires in his eyes which
seemed about to burst into flame.
“All right, all right!” Hoag hastily acquiesced. “You know best,” and
he turned to the window and bought his ticket. The agent made a
courteous remark about the weather and the crops, and in some
fashion Hoag responded, but his thoughts were far away.
He found himself almost alone, in the smoking-car. He took a cigar
from his pocket, lighted it, and, raising the window, blew the smoke
outside. A baggage-truck was being trundled by. He could have put
out his hand and touched the heap of trunks and bags with which it
was laden. A burly negro was pushing it along. Raising his eyes
suddenly, he saw Hoag, and there was no mistaking the startled look
beneath the lines of his swarthy face. Another blow had been
received. Hoag turned from the window. The train started on, slowly
at first, and, going faster and faster, soon was passing through
Hoag's property. Never on any other occasion had he failed to survey
these possessions with pride and interest. The feeling had died
within him. A drab disenchantment seemed to have fallen upon
every visible object. All he owned—the things which had once been
as his life's blood—had dwindled till they amounted to no more than
the broken toys of babyhood.
Beyond his fertile lands and the roofs of his buildings rose a red-
soiled hill which was the property of the village. Hoag turned his
head to look at it. He shuddered. Tall white shafts shone in the full
yellow light. One, distinctly visible, marked the grave of his wife, on
which Hoag had spared no expense. There was room for another
shaft close beside it. Under it a murdered man would lie. That was
inevitable unless something was done—and what could be done?
“Death, death, death!” The smooth, flanged wheels seemed to grind
the words into the steel rails. They were written on the blue sky
along the earth-rimmed horizon. They were whispered from the
lowest depths of himself. His blood crept, cold and sluggish, through
his veins. A chill seemed to have attacked his feet and ankles and
was gradually creeping upward. He remembered that this was said
to be the sensation of dying, and he stood up and stamped his feet
in vigorous, rebellious terror.
CHAPTER XXVI
B
Y and by Atlanta was reached. Slowly and with a clanging bell
the train crept into the grimy switch-yards bordered by sooty
iron furnaces, factories, warehouses, planing-mills, and under
street bridges and on into the big depot. Here his ears were greeted
with the usual jumble, din, and babble of voices, the escaping of
steam, the calls of train-porters. Hoag left the car, joined the jostling
human current on the concrete pavement, and was soon in the
street outside. Formerly he had ridden to his hotel in a trolley-car,
but none was in sight, and seeing a negro cabman signaling to him
with a smile and a seductive wave of his whip he went forward and
got in.
“Kimball House,” he said to the man, and with a snap of the latch
the door was closed upon him.
Rumbling over the cobblestones, through the active scene which
was bisected by the thoroughfare, he strove in vain to recapture the
sensation he had formerly had on such outings—the sensation that
he was where enjoyment of a certain sensual sort could be bought.
Formerly the fact that he was able to pay for a cab, that he was
headed for a hotel where servants would obey his beck and call,
where food, drinks, and cigars would be exactly to his taste, and
where he would be taken for a man of importance, would have given
a certain elation of spirits, but to-day all this was changed.
Had he been driving to an undertaker's to arrange the details of
his own burial, he could, not have experienced a more persistent
and weighty depression. Indeed, the realization of an intangible fate,
of which death itself was only a part, seemed to percolate through
him. His body was as dead as stone, his soul never more alive, more
alert, more desperate.
At the desk in the great noisy foyer of the hotel, where the clerks
knew him and where he paused to register, he shrank from a
cordiality and recognition which hitherto had been welcome enough.
Even the clerks seemed to be ruthless automatons in whose hands
his fate might rest. As one of them carelessly penciled the number of
his room after lois signature, and loudly called it out to a row of
colored porters, he had a sudden impulse to silence the voice and
whisper a request for another room the number of which was to be
private; but he said nothing, and was led away by a bell-boy.
They took the elevator to the fifth floor. The boy, carrying his bag,
showed him to a chamber at the end of a long, empty corridor. The
servant unlocked the door, threw it open, and, going in, put down
the bag and raised the sash of the window, letting in the din of the
street below. Then he waited for orders.
“A pint of best rye whisky, and ice water!” Hoag said. “Bring 'em
right away, and some cigars—a dozen good ones. Charge to my
account.”
“All right, boss,” the porter bowed and was gone. Hoag sat down
by the window and glanced out. He noticed a trolley-car bound for a
pleasure-resort near the city. It had been a place to which on warm
days he had enjoyed going. There was an open-air theater there,
and he had been fond of getting a seat in the front row, and smiling
patronizingly at the painted and powdered players while he smoked
and drank. But this now was like a thing which had lived, died, and
could not be revived. He had, for another amusement, lounged
about certain pool-rooms and bucket-shops, spending agreeable
days with men of wealth and speculative tendencies—men who
loved a game of poker for reasonable stakes and who asked his
advice as to the future market of cotton or wheat; but from this, too,
the charm had flown.
“What is a man profited—” The words seemed an echo from some
voice stilled long ago—a voice weirdly like that of his mother, who
had been a Christian woman. The patriarchal countenance of Silas
Tye, that humble visage so full of mystic content and placid
certitude, stood before his mind's eye. Then there was Paul, a
younger disciple of the ancient one. And, after all, what a strange
and wonderful life had opened out before the fellow! Why, he had
nothing to avoid, nothing to regret, nothing to fear.
The bell-boy brought the whisky and cigars, and when he had
gone Hoag drank copiously, telling himself that the stimulant would
restore his lost confidence, put to flight the absurd fancies which had
beset him. He remained locked in his room the remainder of the
afternoon. It was filled with the smoke of many cigars, and his brain
was confused by the whisky he kept drinking. Looking from the
window, he saw that night had fallen. The long streets from end to
end were ablaze with light. Groping to the wall, he finally found an
electric button and turned on the current. He had just gone back to
the window when there was a rap on his door. He started, fell to
quivering as from the sheer premonition of disaster, and yet he
called out:
“Come in!”
It was the bell-boy.
“A letter for you, sir,” he announced, holding it forward. “A colored
gen'man lef' it at de desk jes' er minute ergo.”
Hoag had the sensation of falling from a great height in a dizzy
dream. “Whar is he?” he gasped, as he reached for the envelope.
“He's gone, sir. He tol' de clerk ter please have it tuck up quick,
dat it was some important news, an' den he went off in er hurry.”
“Did—did you know 'im?” Hoag fairly gasped.
“Never seed 'im befo', sir; looked ter me like er country nigger—
didn't seem ter know which way ter turn.”
When the boy had gone Hoag looked at the inscription on the
letter. He had seen the writing before.
“Captin Jimmy Hoag, Kimball House, City of Atlanta,” was on the
outside. He sank down into his chair and fumbled the sealed
envelope in his numb fingers. His brain was clear now. It had never
been clearer. Presently he opened the envelope and unfolded the
sheet.
It ran as follows:
One place is as good as another. You cannot git away. We got you,
and your time is short. Go to the end of the earth and we will be
there to meet you. By order of his (Blak X Buck) mark.
With the sheet crumpled in his clammy hand, Hoag sat still for
more than an hour. Then he rose, shook himself, and took a big
drink of whisky, He resolved that he would throw off the cowardly
paralysis that was on him and be done with it. He would go out and
spend the evening somewhere. Anything was better than this self-
imprisonment in solitude that was maddening.
Going down to the office, he suddenly met Edward Peterson as he
was turning from the counter. The young man smiled a welcome as
he extended his hand.
“I was just going up to your room,” he said. “I happened to see
your name on the register while I was looking for an out-of-town
customer of ours who was due here to-day. Down for long?”
“I can't say—I railly can't say,” Hoag floundered. “It all depends—
some few matters to—to see to.”
“I was going to write you,” the banker continued, his face
elongated and quite grave. “I regard you as a friend, Mr. Hoag—I
may say, as one of the best I have. I'm sure I've always looked after
your interests at this end of the line as carefully as if they had been
my own.”
“Yes, yes, I know that, of course.” Hoag's response was a hurried
compound of impatience, indifference, and despair.
Peterson threw an eager glance at some vacant chairs near by and
touched Hoag's arm. “Let's sit down,” he entreated. “I want to talk
to you. I just can't put it off. I'm awfully bothered, Mr. Hoag, and if
anybody can help me you can.” Hoag allowed himself to be half led,
half dragged to the chair, and he and his companion sat down
together.
“It's about Miss Ethel,” Peterson went on, desperately, laying an
appealing hand on Hoag's massive knee. “The last time I saw her at
your house I thought she was friendly enough, but something is
wrong now, sure. She won't write often, and when she does her
letters are cold and stiff. I got one from her mother to-day. Mrs.
Mayfield seems bothered. She doesn't seem fully to understand Miss
Ethel, either.”
“I don't know anything about it.” Hoag felt compelled to make
some reply. “The truth is, I haven't had time to—to talk to Eth' lately,
and—”
“But you told me that you would.” Peterson's stare was fixed and
full of suppressed suspense. “I've been depending on you. My—my
pride is—I may say that my pride is hurt, Mr. Hoag. My friends down
here consider me solid with the young lady, and it looks as if she
were trying to pull away and leave me in the lurch. I don't see how I
can stand it. I've never been turned down before and it hurts,
especially when folks have regarded the thing as practically settled.
Why—why, my salary has been raised on the strength of it.”
Hoag's entire thoughts were on the communication he had just
received. He expected every moment to see his assassin stalk across
the tiled floor from one of the many entrances and fire upon him.
Peterson's voice and perturbation were as vexatious as the drone of
a mosquito. Of what importance was another's puppy love to a man
on the gallows looking for the last time at the sunshine? He rose to
his feet; he laid his hand on the young man's shoulder.
“You must let me alone to-night,” he bluntly demanded. “I've got a
matter of important business on my mind and I can't talk to you.
You must, I tell you; you must!”
“All right, all right!” Peterson stared and gasped as if smitten in
the face. “I'll see you in the morning. You'll come around to the
bank, won't you?”
“Yes, yes—in the morning. I'll be round.” When he was alone Hoag
strolled back to the bar-room. He familiarly nodded to the barkeeper,
and smiled mechanically as he called for whisky. He drank, lighted a
cigar, leaned for an instant against the polished counter, and then,
seeing a man entering whom he knew and wished to avoid, he
turned back into the foyer. Presently he went to the front door and
glanced up and down the street. A cab was at the edge of the
sidewalk, and the negro driver called out to him:
“Ca'iage, boss? Any part de city.”
“All right, I'm with you,” Hoag went to the cab, whispered an
address, got in, and closed the door. With a knowing smile the negro
mounted his seat and drove away. At the corner he turned down
Decatur Street, and presently drove into a short street leading
toward the railroad. Here the houses on either side of the way had
red glass in the doors, through which crimson rays of light streamed
out on the pavement. The cab was about to slow up at one of the
houses when Hoag rapped on the window. The driver leaned down
and opened the door.
“What is it, boss?”
“Take me back to the hotel,” was the command.
The driver paused in astonishment, then slowly turned his horse
and started back.
“It might happen thar, and Jack would find out about it,” Hoag
leaned back and groaned. “That would never do. It is bad enough as
it is, but that would be worse. He might grow up an' be ashamed
even to mention me. Henry is tryin' to do right, too, an' I'd hate for
him to know.”
CHAPTER XXVII
A
T twelve o'clock at night, two days later, Hoag returned to
Grayson. It was warm and cloudy, and when he left the train
he found himself alone on the unlighted platform. No one was
in sight, and yet he felt insecure. He told himself, when the train had
rumbled away, that it would be easy for an assassin to stand behind
the little tool-house, the closed restaurant, or the railway
blacksmith's shop and fire upon him. So, clutching his bag in his cold
fingers, he walked swiftly up to the Square. Here, also, no one was
in sight, and everything was so still that he could almost fancy
hearing the occupants of the near-by hotel breathing. He turned
down to Sid Trawley's stable to get his horse. The dim light of a
murky lantern swinging from a beam at the far end shone in a foggy
circle. The little office on the right was used by Trawley as a
bedroom. The door was closed, but through the window a faint light
was visible, and there was a sound within as of a man removing his
shoes.
“Hello, Sid, you thar?” Hoag called out.
“Yes, yes; who's that?”
Hoag hesitated; then stepping close to the window, he said, in a
lower tone: “Me—Jim Hoag; I want my hoss, Sid.”
“Oh, it's you; all right—all right!”
The sound in the room was louder now, and then Trawley, without
coat or hat, his coarse shirt gaping at the neck, opened the door and
came out.
“You got here quick, I'll swear,” the liveryman ejaculated. “Surely
you wasn't in Atlanta like they said you was, or you couldn't 'a' got
here as soon as this.”
“Soon as this! What do you mean? I am just from Atlanta.”
“Then they didn't telegraph you?”
“No; what do you mean? I hain't heard a word from here since I
left.” Hoag caught his breath, thrust his hands into his pockets, and
stood, openmouthed.
“You don't say! Then, of course, you couldn't know about Henry's
trouble?”
“No, I tell you I'm just back. What's wrong?”
“It happened about nine o'clock to-night,” Trawley explained. “In
fact, the town has just quieted down. For a while I expected the
whole place to go up in flames. It was in the hands of the craziest
mob you ever saw—Nape Welborne's gang.”
“What about Henry? Was he hurt, or—”
“Oh, he's all right now, or was when me'n Paul Rundel, an' one or
two more friends put 'im to bed in the hotel. Doctor Wynn says he is
bruised up purty bad, but no bones is broke or arteries cut.”
“Another fight, I reckon!” Hoag was prepared to dismiss the
matter as too slight for notice in contrast to his far heavier woes.
“Yes, but this time you won't blame him, Jim. In fact, you are the
one man on earth that will stand up for 'im if thar's a spark o' good
left in you. He was fightin' for you, Jim Hoag. I used to think Henry
didn't amount to much, but I've changed. I take off my hat to 'im,
an' it will stay off from now on.”
“Fighting for me?” Hoag's fears gathered from many directions
and ruthlessly leaped upon him.
“Yes, it seems that Nape Welborne had it in for you for some
reason or other, an' you bein' away he determined to take it out on
your boy. I knowed trouble was brewin', an' I got Henry to come
down here away from the drinkin' crowd in front o' his store. Henry
has been powerfully interested in some o' the things Paul Rundel an'
me believe here lately about the right way to live, an' me'n him was
talkin' about it. We was gettin' on nice an' quiet in our talk when
who should come but Nape an' his bloodthirsty lay-out, fifteen or
twenty strong. You know Nape, an' you no doubt understand his
sneakin', underhanded way of pickin' a fuss. He took a chair thar in
front, an' though he knowed Henry was listenin' he begun on you.
What he didn't say, along with his oaths and sneers, never could 'a'
been thought of. He begun gradual-like an' kept heapin' it on hot an'
heavy, his eyes on Henry all the time, an' his stand-by's laughin' an'
cheerin' 'im. I never saw such a look on a human face as I seed on
your boy's. Seemed like he was tryin' to hold in, but couldn't. I
pulled him aside a little, an' told him to remember his good
resolutions an' to try to stay out of a row ag'in' sech awful odds; but
lookin' me straight in the eye he said:
“'A man can't reform to do any good, Sid, an' be a coward. He's
insulting my father, an' I can't stand it. I can't, and I won't!'”
Trawley paused an instant, and Hoag caught his breath.
“He said that, did he—Henry said that?”
“Yes, I tried to pacify him, knowin' that he wouldn't stand a ghost
of a chance ag'in' sech odds, but nothin' I said had the slightest
effect on 'im. He pulled away from me, slow an' polite like. He
thanked me as nice as you please, then he went straight toward
Welborne. He had stood so much already that I reckon Nape
thought he was goin' to pass by, to get away, an' Nape was beginnin'
to laugh an' start some fresh talk when Henry stopped in front of
him suddenly an' drawed back his fist an' struck 'im a blow in the
mouth that knocked Nape clean out o' his chair. Nape rolled over
ag'in the wall, then sprung up spiffin' blood an' yellin', an' the two
had it nip an' tuck for a minute, but the gang wouldn't see fair-play.
They was all drunk an' full o' mob spirit an' they closed in on the boy
like ants on a speck o' bread an' begun to yell, 'Lynch 'im, lynch 'im!'
“It was like flint-sparks to powder in the pan. It was the wildest
mix-up I ever saw, and I have seed a good many in my day. Henry
was in the middle duckin' down, striking out whenever he could, an'
callin' 'em dirty dogs and cowardly cutthroats. They meant business.
They drug the poor boy on to the thicket back of the Court House
an' stopped under a tree. Some fellow had got one of my hitchin'
ropes, an' they flung it 'round Henry's neck, and tied his hands and