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diff --git a/58893-0.txt b/58893-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..72685d5 --- /dev/null +++ b/58893-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,701 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58893 *** + + + + + + + + + + + + + RACE RIOT + + BY RALPH WILLIAMS + + _McCullough was not a native lover, nor was + he particularly bull-headed. He just felt there + was a certain difference between right and wrong + and nobody was going to change his mind. + Take that Sunday afternoon...._ + + [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from + Worlds of If Science Fiction, January 1955. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that + the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] + + +The riot started late Sunday afternoon, in the alley back of John +McCullough's house. McCullough was in at the start of it, and he was in +at the end. + +Sunday is thirty hours long on Centaurus II, as are all the other days +of the week, of course; and in summer, at the latitude of Port Knakvik, +the afternoons are very long indeed. John McCullough that Sunday had +finished hanging the windows in the log house he was building, and now +he was relaxing on the back stoop with a bottle of local whiskey. The +whiskey was distilled from a native starchy root, and had a peculiar +taste, but it was alcoholic, and one got used to it. + +In the kitchen McCullough's wife was getting Sunday dinner on the new +inductor stove, still marvelling at its convenience--back on the farm +they had cooked with wood. The two children were playing in and out of +the house. His neighbors, Henry Watts from across the street, and Pete +Tallant from next door, had been helping him with the windows, and now +they were helping him with the bottle. They were discussing the native +question. In a way, this was the beginning of the riot. + +"It's not that I got anything against them, in their place," Henry +Watts said. "Their place just ain't in an Earthman's town, that's all. +They keep crowding in, first thing you know there'll be more natives +than there is Earthmen, then you just watch out. They're snotty enough +already in their sly way, you let them get the upper hand once, mark my +word, it won't be safe for a woman to walk down the street." + +"Yeah, I guess so," McCullough said. He was really not much interested. +His people were from the flats upriver from Knakvik, a long-settled +country where the first colonists had been brought two generations +before to form the nucleus of an agricultural community. He had never +seen more than half a dozen native Centaurans until he came down to +Knakvik to work on the spaceport the new federal colonial government +was building, and it was not his nature to worry about problems +which did not directly concern him. Mostly, he liked to mind his own +business, it was characteristic of McCullough that his friends came to +visit him at his house, he did not go to visit them. + +"What the government ought to do," Watts said, "it ought to take the +whole bunch and round them up and put them away on a reservation +somewhere. You can't civilize a grayskin, they ain't even human to +start with, so why try?" + +"Nuts," Pete Tallant said. Where Watts was a redneck miner and +construction worker; and McCullough a farmer picking up a little easy +money on a temporary job; Tallant was an intellectual, a dark restive +young Earthman working his way around to see how Earth's far colonies +looked. Watts' yapping irritated him, but there was no point in arguing +against that sort of brainless conviction, he knew. He stared gloomily +off at the mountains across the river, rising clean and snow-capped +above the shanties and garbage piles of the transient workers who had +overflowed the city to camp on the flats along the river; thinking: + +Just over a hundred years ago this planet was first discovered by +men. Less than sixty years ago the first colonists were brought here. +They came to a brand-new planet, almost as naked as the day they were +born--two hundred pounds per colonist, including their own weight--with +a free hand to build a new world as they pleased. And already the same +old pattern, hate and distrust and envy, greed and oppression. How +many men on Centaurus II? Perhaps a hundred thousand. How many native +Centaurans? Perhaps five million, on a planet larger than Earth. But +not enough room for both-- + +"You think I'm prejudiced," Watts said heavily, the need of the +frontiersman to justify his opinions before the cosmopolite rankling in +his voice. "Well, I ain't. I just know those buggers, that's all. You +greenhorns come out here from Earth, you figure you got an answer to +everything, just because we don't have the schooling you got, we're a +bunch of fools. Ain't that right, John?" + +"Yeah, I guess," McCullough said absently. The next thing to do, he +thought, now that they had inductor power from the central station, +was to get running water in the house. Plastic bubbles and tents and +shanties and hauling water from the pump were well enough for bums +and single men, but a family man might as well be building a decent +home while he was about it. There would always be rental value in a +good house here in town, especially with the new spaceport and the +government moving here; and later, when the kids had to go to high +school, it would be handy. Some day, too, he would be retiring, turning +the farm over to Jimmy, he and Mary would need a place to live then. + +"The old ones ain't so bad," Watts said. "They know their place, and +they remember what happened at Artillery Bluff. But some of these young +bucks, especially the smart-alecky kind the government has been sending +to school--" He shook his head forebodingly. + +"Nuts," Tallant said wearily. "Let's talk about something we can all be +stupid about, huh? Women or baseball or something." + +Watts flushed. "_I_ know what I'm talking about now, and I didn't get +it out of books, either, I've lived with the buggers. You greenhorns +read all this sob stuff in the high-brow magazines back on Earth about +the noble Centaurans, and you figure we're a bunch of jerks because +we don't slobber all over them too. Noble Centaurans! Jesus! Dirty, +sneaking non-humans, that's what." He lifted the bottle and drank +deeply, tilting back his head and letting his eyes rove. "There," he +said abruptly. "There's your noble Centaurans, look at 'em!" + +A group of natives were coming up the alley--in Port Knakvik, natives +did not walk in the street--shuffling along with downcast eyes. They +were a small gray-skinned people, roughly humanoid, viviparous but not +mammalian. There were five males followed half a dozen steps behind by +a female carrying an infant on her hip. + +"You see that _kish_ there with her _fotin_?" Watts asked. "Lemme show +you something, you probably wouldn't believe this if I told you, these +grayskins are just like animals, they got no decency at all." He stood +up and waved an arm in a beckoning gesture. "Hey, you _kish_, come over +here," he called. + +The female Centauran paused uncertainly, looking at him with frightened +eyes out of a small triangular noseless face. + +"Yes, you," Watts barked. "Come here!" + +She glanced at the males ahead of her, who had also stopped and were +looking at Watts from the corners of their eyes. One mumbled something +to her. She began to shuffle slowly across the yard toward Watts, +looking at her feet. Watts took a steel five-dollar piece from his +pocket and held it out toward her. + +"Here, you _kish_," he said, "feed baby, _viptiv fotin_, get money." + +The native took the coin and looked doubtfully at the three men. +"_Viptiv?_" she asked in a light high voice. + +"That's right," Watts said. "_Viptiv fotin._" He grinned at Tallant. +"Watch this, kid, you want to see your noble Centauran do something'll +really make you gag." + +"Oh, for Pete's sake," Tallant said. "I _know_ these people feed their +young by regurgitation. So it's disgusting to mammals? So what?" He +jumped down from the stoop and took the Centauran mother's arm and +turned her gently around. "No _viptiv_," he said. "Run along." + +Watts' face was almost purple now. "What the hell you think you're +doing?" he shouted. He grasped the female's other arm. "_Viptiv_," he +gritted in her face. "You took my money, now _viptiv_!" + +"Let go that woman," Tallant said, "or I'll push your face in." He +turned toward the group of males, who still stood stupidly staring. +"Come on over here," he called. "Take your woman and get out." One of +them started reluctantly across the yard. Tallant dropped the native +woman's arm and stepped past her to face Watts. "I told you to let go," +he said. + +Watts thrust his face out. "Make me, wise guy." + +Tallant hit Watts in the face with his fist. + +Watts was a big man, and tough. He shook his head, wiped his nose, +looked incredulously at the blood on his hand, and let out a roar of +rage. It was not much of a fight. Watts' first blow dazed Tallant, the +second knocked him down, and before he could get up Watts stepped in +and kicked him in the head. + +The Centauran woman still stood where the men had left her, wide-eyed +with confusion. She ran awkwardly over to Watts, shoving in between him +and Tallant's prostrate body, and pushed the five-dollar piece at him, +chattering excitedly in her own tongue. Watts twisted the money from +her fingers and shoved her roughly down on top of Tallant. "There, you +goddam native-lover," he roared, "get a real good whiff of one once, +see how you like it." + +She was still carrying the baby, she tried to shield it as she fell, +but her body twisted and she came down heavily on it. The baby +screamed, a high-pitched, nerve-tearing sound. The male who had started +back to get her pulled a long sharp knife from somewhere beneath his +rags and broke into a trot, his eyes beadily intent on Watts. + +McCullough had started down off the porch when Watts put the boot to +Tallant. He changed his intent and ran in behind the native, and hit +him solidly with his fist in the back of the neck. The native went +sprawling and his knife flew out of his hand. + +People were turning to look and popping out of tents and shelters all +around now. + +"Why, that dirty native," Watts bellowed, "he tried to knife me!" + +He stepped over to the Centauran and kicked him savagely several +times. The other four males had been watching open-mouthed. They +turned abruptly and started back down the alley the way they had come, +but there was a small knot of men there, watching them. The natives +paused uncertainly. One broke away and ran toward the street, between +McCullough's house and Tallant's tent, and the others followed. + +Most of the Earthmen had no idea what was happening. The closer ones +could see a couple of natives and a man lying on the ground, another +man with a bloody face shouting something about knifing, and four +natives running. + +"Head 'em off!" someone called. "They'll get away in the street!" + +That was how the riot at Port Knakvik started. + + * * * * * + +Watts ran off after the mob chasing the natives, perhaps with some +idea of explaining, more likely not--he was in a half mindless rage of +excitement with the whiskey and the fighting. McCullough was left alone +with Tallant and the two natives. The native woman seemed unhurt, she +was picking herself up and examining the infant, which still whimpered. +Tallant was unconscious. McCullough picked him up and carried him into +the house. + +His wife was standing white-faced at the door. + +"Get some water," he said. He laid Tallant on a cot and began to wipe +off his face. There was a scalp cut where Watts' boot had clipped him, +most of the blood was coming from that; but it was high and it did not +feel like a fracture. Presently Tallant groaned and shook his head and +opened his eyes. The pupils did not look bad. + +"How do you feel?" McCullough asked. + +"Rough," Tallant mumbled. "Rough. Side ... hurts...." + +McCullough pulled up the shirt and looked. There was a swelling +purplish bruise on the chest. He touched it gently and drew a gasp of +pain. + +"Looks like maybe you got a cracked rib," he said. "Get me some tape, +will you, Mary?" He took the roll of tape and wound it tightly about +Tallant's chest. + +"That'll hold till you get to a doctor," he said. + +Tallant drew a light experimental breath. "Feels better," he said. +"What the hell happened anyway?" + +McCullough told him. + +"That's bad," Tallant said. "That fool Watts could touch off a real +riot, there's plenty more around here with no more brains than he has, +and just spoiling for trouble. Somebody ought to get the marshal's +office working on it before things get out of hand." He took the wet +rag he had been holding to his head away and examined the cut with +squeamish fingers. "Have to get this stitched up too, I guess, before +it sets up hard. Look, could you back my truck out into the street? I +don't feel up to driving, but if I get it in the street, it can take me +in to the dispensary on auto, and I can call Administration from there." + +There were very few private vehicles in Port Knakvik, or indeed +anywhere on Centaurus II; but Tallant, who was an electrician, had +a company panel which he drove to and from the job. Though it was +chemically powered--the new inductor station was the first nuclear +installation on the planet--it had the same cybernetic controls as any +Earthside vehicle. They worked fine on paved roads. On Knakvik streets, +however-- + +"I don't know," McCullough said dubiously, "You think you can make it +on auto? Suppose you get stalled?" + +Port Knakvik lay on a silty alluvial plain. In the downtown area, the +streets were stabilized, but back along the river where the shanties +of the construction workers sprawled, they were simply ruts punctuated +at frequent intervals by chuckholes where churning wheels had ripped +off the overburden, exposing the bottomless muck beneath. + +"I'd go with you," McCullough said, "except I kind of hate to leave +Mary and the kids right now--I tell you, maybe I could find somebody +else. You lay down for a minute, take it easy, I'll look around." + +Tallant seemed to have guessed right about the riot, there were people +running by outside toward a commotion at the lower end of the street +where the native shanties clustered. McCullough saw a man he knew from +the job. "Hey, George," he called, "you got time to do a little favor?" +He explained about Tallant. + +The man had not yet been in any fighting, he was simply curious about +what was going on, and this was part of it. "Sure, John," he said. "Be +glad to." + +They helped Tallant into the truck. George backed it out into the +street on manual. "What's the dispensary coordinates?" he asked. + +"Three-two-three, oh-one-five, local," Tallant told him. + +George pushed the keys and they started off toward town. + +McCullough turned to see what he could make out of the excitement at +the other end of the street. There were two columns of smoke billowing +up now, and scattered shots. Two men came back up the street helping +another with his trouser leg split away and a bloody bandage about his +thigh. + +"What's it all about, John?" A man called across the street to him. + +"Don't know. Fighting with the natives, I guess. Henry Watts and some +other fellows chased a couple of them down there. Looks like they mean +to clean the whole bunch out." + +"Dammit, that's not right," the man across the street said. "The +natives got a right to live too, they had a village here before we +came. Somebody ought to do something about it." + +"Pete Tallant just went into town to tell the marshal." + +"Yeah, well, I wouldn't holler copper on my neighbors myself, but I +won't have anything to do with killing those poor natives either. They +can get along without me." The man went back in his house and closed +the door. + +McCullough walked a few steps out into the street to get a better view. +The riot was none of his business, and he had no intention of getting +mixed up in it, but the idea of the fighting excited him and made him +nervous. He could not see much, except that there was a lot of activity. + +He shook his head helplessly. My God, he thought, all this from two men +with nothing to do on a Sunday afternoon but get half-drunk and start +arguing.... + + * * * * * + +Someone screamed--Mary's scream, suddenly choked off! + +McCullough ran back across the yard and up the steps, raging at himself +for having left Mary and the children alone in the house. There was +no one in the front room, but through the kitchen door he could see a +native with his back turned, peering out the kitchen window. + +McCullough's gun was hanging over the door, on pegs set into the logs, +a gun made from the first steel smelted on Centaurus II. He reached +down the gun as he stepped in the door. + +There were two natives in the kitchen; one with a roughed-up look who +might have been the one Watts had kicked, watching Mary as she huddled +in a corner by the stove with her arms about the two children; the +other still looking out the window. Both spun around to face him as +McCullough burst into the room. + +For a moment they eyed each other in silence, the two Centaurans and +the Earthman. + +"You hurt, Mary?" McCullough asked. + +She was frightened almost speechless, but she managed a squeak and a +negative shake of her head. + +McCullough took his eyes from the natives for a moment and studied her +searchingly. "You sure?" he asked. She nodded. Some of the color was +coming back in her face again now, and she looked all right. + +He looked back at the two natives. He should have them arrested, he +supposed, but to file a complaint meant going to court and losing a +day's work. It did not even occur to him to hold them for the mob. + +He gestured with the gun muzzle. "OK," he said roughly. "Get out of +here, now. Get!" + +The natives looked at each other. Outside, there was a rattle of +shots in the alley, and several high-pitched screams. The native by +the window wet his lips and shook his head, and the other turned +back toward McCullough. He had a knife in his hand, which he swung +menacingly. + +"No," he said. "No go outside. Kill." + +It was not clear if he meant the verb passively or actively, but with +the knife not six feet from Mary and the children, it did not seem a +proper time to discuss fine points of grammar. McCullough shot him in +the belly. At that range, the charge almost tore the slight native in +half. + +The other Centauran turned and came lunging toward him, and McCullough +fired again. The native stumbled and fell in a heap in the middle of +the floor, half across the body of the first. + +McCullough stepped over them to the back door and glanced out, dropping +fresh charges in the gun as he did so. There were no natives in sight +but several white men were in the alley, looking around, trying to +decide where the shots had come from. Henry Watts was with them. He saw +McCullough at the door and called out to him: "You hear those shots? +Two of 'em ran back up this alley. You see them?" + +"They came in my house," McCullough said. "I shot both of them." + +"Good, by God," Watts yelled. "That's two we don't have to worry about." + +"There's one more left," another man called from up the alley. "He +ducked around through Gordon's lot." + +The men ran off up the alley on the new scent, and McCullough turned +back into the kitchen. Mary had collapsed into a chair and was sobbing +with her head in her arms. The two children clung to her, staring +wide-eyed at the bodies of the natives. + +McCullough walked over and patted her on the back. "It's OK now, Mary," +he said. "It's OK, nothing to worry about now." His wife went on +crying, and he stood there awkwardly, not quite knowing what to do. + +He noticed that the dark purplish blood of the natives, almost black, +was spreading in little rivulets and pools over the kitchen floor. The +floor was of sanded white wood, and stained easily. There were some +folded tarps in the lean-to where McCullough kept his tools. He got one +and rolled the bodies over onto it. As he did so, he saw that one of +them, the second one he had shot, was still alive. The shot had gone +low and mangled the native's upper leg. He stared up at McCullough with +opaque expressionless eyes, slowly bleeding to death. + +It was an embarrassing situation. McCullough was not any more callous +than the next man, but he found himself wishing his aim had been +better. He could hardly allow the Centauran to lie there and bleed +to death while he watched, but neither did he feel any particular +responsibility in the matter. The native had got what he was asking +for, and that was that. + +Finally he took the native's leather belt and tightened it around the +leg for a tourniquet, got another tarp and spread it on the cot, and +laid the native on it. The corpse he rolled in the first tarp and +pushed under the cot. Throughout the injured Centauran said nothing, +either in thanks or protest, although the leg must have been painful. + +He had just finished when he heard voices in the front yard. + +Henry Watts was there with half a dozen other men carrying guns and +clubs, all looking the worse for wear. Two were dragging a Centauran +corpse by the pants legs. + +Watts mopped at his sweaty, blood-stained face with his shirt-tail. +"You still got those two grayskins in there?" he asked. + +McCullough nodded. + +"Fine, we'll take 'em off your hands now." Watts half-turned to the men +behind him. "Come on, give me a hand to drag 'em out." He started up +the steps. + +"Wait a minute," McCullough said. He did not move out of the door, he +was not quite sure why, a moment ago he had been wondering what to do +with the natives, and here was Watts offering to take them. It may have +been the way they were dragging the Centauran, face down in the mud, +that bothered him. "What you going to do with them?" he asked. + +"We got a use for 'em," Watts said with relish. "We're going to drag +all the bodies up in front of Dubois' place and string 'em up to poles +there, for a warning. We'll learn those grayskins what to expect, they +come messing around here any more. Come on, toss 'em out, we'll take +these two along with the rest." + +"Well, I don't know," McCullough said. "One of these is still alive, I +didn't kill him, just crippled him." + +Watts showed his teeth. "That won't be a problem," he said. + +McCullough shook his head slowly. He had counted Henry Watts as his +friend, but he was not so sure now that he liked him. "No," he said. "I +think we better just leave them till the cops come." + +Watts laughed. "Cops? There ain't going to be any cops coming. We're +handling this ourselves. Don't worry about the cops, even if they could +get an indictment, there ain't a jury in this town would convict for +killing a native." + +"I'm not worrying about that," McCullough said stolidly, "but I don't +like what you fellows are doing, I might as well say right now, and I'm +not going to be a party to it. Those natives stay right where they are +till the law comes and gets them." + +Watts' grin faded. "John," he said, "we ain't fooling. I know you're no +native-lover, but we're going to clean those devils out once for all. +If you won't let us in for them, we'll come in anyway and take 'em." + +McCullough shook his head again. "This is my house. Henry, you've +been my friend, but I just shot two people for coming in here without +knocking." + +Watts looked around at the men behind him. Most of them knew +McCullough. They did not seem taken with the idea of breaking into +his house. Watts swung back to McCullough. "John," he said ominously, +"you're just making trouble for yourself, that's all." + +McCullough simply shook his head and stood blocking the doorway. + +Watts glanced around at the other men again. One of them shrugged +self-consciously and turned away, and after a moment the others +trailed after. + +"All right," Watts growled. He shook his fist under McCullough's nose. +"All right, John McCullough, I'll remember this, and I'll be back. +Native-lover!" He spat on the step and went off after the others. + +McCullough watched them go, uneasy under his surface stolidity. He +liked to be on good terms with his neighbors, not enough to give in to +them on anything he felt strongly about, but he knew this would be held +against him, and it worried him, more for the sake of Mary and the kids +than for himself. + +He sensed his wife standing behind him. + +"What did they want?" she asked. + +He told her. + +"But, John, why? Haven't we had enough trouble today? Do you _have_ +to get in a fight with your neighbors over a stupid native? What +difference does it make to you?" + +McCullough shook his head helplessly. "I don't know. I just don't like +the idea, that's all." + +His wife stared wordlessly at him for a moment. She went into the +kitchen and sat down at the table and began crying again. The children +ran to her and began whimpering also. McCullough prowled restlessly +about the living-room, stooping now and then to peer out the windows +as men shouted and ran by. The native lay silent on the cot, unmoving +except for his eyes which followed McCullough. + +McCullough stopped and studied the Centauran resentfully. Goddam +natives, he thought, all they cause is trouble. He bent over and +loosened the strap on the leg until fresh blood started to ooze out +and then tightened it again. The Centauran winced a little and closed +his eyes briefly, but made no other sign. Ought to have morphine, +McCullough thought, but would morphine work on a Centauran? He didn't +know. + +He pulled a chair over to the window, where he could watch both doors +and the cot, and sat down with the gun across his knees. The riot was +apparently still booming along. Men trotted by outside now and then, +singly or in little groups, calling to each other. Once several went +by with another Centauran corpse slung hand and foot to a pole. There +were no women or children in sight, those houses with blinds had them +down, the tent-flaps were tightly drawn. There was no indication of any +attempt by the authorities to halt the riot. Possibly Tallant had not +gotten through, or possibly Watts was right, the Administration was +keeping hands off. + +After a while Mary came in and stood by the chair. Her eyes were still +red, but she was no longer crying. "You want something to eat now?" she +asked dully. "The roast is done." + +"Yeah, I guess so," he said. He avoided her eyes. + +She fixed a plate and brought it to him and sat down to watch him eat. + +"You think there'll be more trouble?" she asked. "They surely won't +bother us again, will they?" + +McCullough chewed thoughtfully. He thought there would be more trouble, +but he did not like to worry his wife unduly. "Well," he hedged, "that +Henry's kind of a bull-headed fellow." + +"Don't you be bull-headed too, John. I know you have to do what you +think is right, but please be careful." + +He reached out and took her hand in his. "Honey, I'm sorry. I know +it's mighty tough on women sometimes, but a man just can't give in on +some things, that's all." He looked down, pleased as always by the +contrast of her small, pale, delicate fingers lying in his large blunt +chocolate-brown hand. The contrast seemed especially important today, +for reasons he could not quite place. + +Was there some special significance in a black man married to a white +woman, a black man setting his will against white men, not as an +enemy, but as an equal? Back a couple of hundred years ago, he knew, +on Earth--but the thought eluded him, he was not a very articulate or +subtle thinker and he could not pin it down. + +"Don't you worry, Mary," he said, "it'll turn out all right." + + * * * * * + +It was almost sundown when Watts came back. McCullough was checking the +tourniquet on the native's leg when he heard a commotion in the street +outside. + +"John McCullough," a voice bellowed. "Come out!" + +Watts' voice, McCullough thought. He picked up his gun, but then he +thought he would not feel right facing the men outside, who were +after all his neighbors, with a gun in his hands. He looked around. +The double-bitted axe he had been using to trim the logs around his +window-frames leaned against the wall by the door. + +"Get in the bedroom, Mary," he said. "Pull the mattress off the bed +and lie down behind it with the kids." + +He took the axe and walked out the door onto the steps, squinting his +eyes against the setting sun. The street was full of men in front of +his house, perhaps half a hundred or so. Watts and a short stout man +stood halfway up the path to the door. McCullough studied them in +silence. + +"Well?" he said finally. + +"This man here's a deputy marshal, John," Watts said. "We'll take your +prisoner and that body now, if you don't mind." + +The stout man grinned placatingly. "That's right, Mr. McCullough, I've +deputized Mr. Watts here and several others to help restore order. +We've rounded up all the rioters except that one you've got in there." + +"You got a warrant?" McCullough asked. + +"Well, no, I don't really think--" + +"Then get off my property. Go on, get!" McCullough came down the steps +and began to walk slowly toward Watts and the marshal. "Get out of my +yard!" he said. He did not raise his voice. + +"You're bucking the law now, John McCullough," Watts warned. + +"Get out of my yard!" McCullough said again. He was about three steps +away from Watts. He took another step. + +Watts had been carrying a pistol in his hand. His arm started to +swing up. McCullough let out a wordless bark: "_Haugh!_" and the axe +flipped in a short swift arc. He stepped over Watts' body, the axe +again dangling limply from his hand with a few thin threads of blood +spattering from it. "Get out of my yard!" he said. + +The nearer men backed away slowly, not really frightened, but +uncertain. Single men have faced down mobs many times, but more have +been killed by them. In a saner moment, McCullough may have known this, +but his ductless glands were in full control now. He did not really +care, he rather hoped, if he thought at all, that there _would_ be a +fight. He knew he could kill any man who stood against him. + +Off to one side, a dozen yards away, a man tentatively lifted a pistol. +McCullough caught the movement from the corner of his eye and turned +and began walking toward the man, head a little forward, bright, +slightly unfocussed eyes intent in his expressionless face. The men +between the two moved back, leaving a clear path. + +The man with the pistol glanced to either side and saw he now stood +alone, all alone. There is a nightmare some men know--the implacable +deadly-eyed enemy coming with the red, wetly gleaming steel while you +stand all alone with the pistol that poufs weakly with the bullets +dribbling from the muzzle. The man jerked the trigger and spun about +and ran without waiting to see where his shot had gone, and the charge +snapped two feet over McCullough's head. + +McCullough turned again toward the main body of the mob and walked +slowly forward, his eyes searching the faces around him hungrily. "Get +out of my yard!" he said woodenly. + +The men he faced were not cowards, few men on that world were, and +they had been killing natives all afternoon, their blood was up; but +this was different, this was one of their own kind they faced now. If +they had been able to see him as another outcast, as a traitor aiding +the enemy against them, it would have made things easier. In spite of +what Watts had said, however, they knew this was not true. McCullough +was not a 'native-lover', he was not upholding the Centaurans, what he +was upholding was the right of a citizen to hold his own opinion and +keep his home as his castle--two rights which are extremely important +in any frontier culture. + +It put them in a very difficult moral position, and the physical +pressure of McCullough's steady advance did not give them much time +to settle the dilemma. Half a dozen men were elbowing their way back +through the press now, the marshal had disappeared, there was no one +to start things, and they kept fading back. McCullough never varied +his pace, but the distance between him and the nearest man increased +steadily. He stopped in the street before his house, but the mob kept +moving under its own momentum for another fifty yards, and some still +kept moving. A knot of perhaps a dozen stopped at the corner and +muttered among themselves for a few minutes. One man started to raise +a gun, and another knocked it down. They stood there a little longer, +and McCullough leaned on his axe watching them, and then they moved off +after the others, men dropping off here and there as they passed their +own homes. + +The riot was over. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Race Riot, by Ralph Williams + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58893 *** |