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diff --git a/old/69877-0.txt b/old/69877-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 04fca13..0000000 --- a/old/69877-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8036 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The fire in the flint, by Walter F. -White - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The fire in the flint - -Author: Walter F. White - -Release Date: January 25, 2023 [eBook #69877] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Neal Caren. This file was derived from images generously - made available by the University of Michigan through the - HathiTrust. - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRE IN THE FLINT *** - - - - - - THE FIRE IN THE FLINT - - WALTER F. WHITE - - - NEW YORK - ALFRED • A • KNOPF - MCMXXIV - - COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. - PUBLISHED, SEPTEMBER, 1924 - - SET UP, ELECTROTYPED, PRINTED AND BOUND - BY THE VAILBALLOU PRESS, INC., BINGHAMTON N. Y. - PAPER FURNISHED BY W. F. ETHERINGTON & CO., NEW YORK. - - MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - TO MY WIFE - - "The fire in the flint never shows until it is struck." - —_Old English Proverb._ - - THE FIRE IN THE FLINT - - - - - CHAPTER I - - -KENNETH HARPER gazed slowly around his office. A smile of -satisfaction wreathed his face, reflecting his inward contentment. -He felt like a runner who sees ahead of him the coveted goal towards -which he has been straining through many gruelling miles. Kenneth -was tired but he gave no thought to his weariness. Two weeks of hard -work, countless annoyances, seemingly infinite delays—all were now -forgotten in the warm glow which pervaded his being. He, Kenneth B. -Harper, M.D., was now ready to receive the stream of patients he -felt sure was coming. - -He walked around the room and fingered with almost loving tenderness -the newly installed apparatus. He adjusted and readjusted the -examining-table of shining nickel and white enamel which had arrived -that morning from New York. He arranged again the black leather pads -and cushions. With his handkerchief he wiped imaginary spots of dust -from the plate glass door and shelves of the instrument case, though -his sister Mamie had polished them but half an hour before until -they shone with crystal clearness. Instrument after instrument he -fondled with the air of a connoisseur examining a rare bit of -porcelain. He fingered critically their various parts to see if all -were in perfect condition. He tore a stamp from an old letter and -placed it under the lens of the expensive microscope adjusting and -readjusting until every feature of the stamp stood out clearly even -to the most infinite detail. He raised and lowered half a dozen -times or more the lid of the nickelled sterilizer. He set at various -angles the white screen which surrounded the examining-table, viewed -it each time from different corners of the room, and rearranged it -until it was set just right. He ran his hand over the card index -files in his small desk. He looked at the clean white cards with the -tabs on them—the cards which, though innocent now of writing, he -hoped and expected would soon be filled with the names of -innumerable sick people he was treating. - -His eye caught what he thought was a pucker in the -grey-and-blue-chequered linoleum which covered the floor. He went -over and moved the sectional bookcase containing his volumes on -obstetrics, on gynæcology, on _materia medica_, on the diseases he -knew he would treat as a general practitioner of medicine in so -small a place as Central City. No, that wasn't a pucker—it was only -the light from the window striking it at that angle. - -"Dr. Kenneth B. Harper, Physician and Surgeon." He spelled out the -letters which were painted on the upper panes of the two windows -facing on State Street. It thrilled him that eight years of hard -work had ended and he now was at the point in his life towards which -he had longingly looked all those years. Casting his eyes again -around the office, he went into the adjoining reception room. - -Kenneth threw himself in utter exhaustion into one of the -comfortable arm-chairs there. His hands, long-fingered, tapering to -slender points, the hands of a pianist, an artist, whether of brush -or chisel or scalpel, hung over the sides in languid fashion. He was -without coat or vest. His shirt-sleeves were rolled back above his -elbows, revealing strongly muscled dark brown arms. His face was of -the same richly coloured brown. His mouth was sensitively shaped -with evenly matched strong white teeth. The eyes too were brown, -usually sober and serious, but flashing into a broad and friendly -smile when there was occasion for it. Brushed straight back from the -broad forehead was a mass of wavy hair, brown also but of a deeper -shade, almost black. The chin was well shaped. - -As he lounged in the chair and looked around the reception room, he -appeared to be of medium height, rather well-proportioned, almost -stocky. Three years of baseball and football, and nearly two years -of army life with all its hardships, had thickened up the once -rather slender figure and had given to the face a more mature -appearance, different from the youthful, almost callow look he had -worn when his diploma had been handed him at the end of his college -course. - -The reception room was as pleasing to him as he sat there as had -been the private office. There were three or four more chairs like -the one in which he sat. There was a couch to match. The wall-paper -was a subdued tan, serving as an excellent background for four -brightly coloured reproductions of good pictures. Their brightness -was matched by a vase of deep blue that stood on the table. Beside -the vase were two rows of magazines placed there for perusal by his -patients as they waited admittance to the more austere room beyond. -It was comfortable. It was in good taste—almost too good taste, -Kenneth thought, for a place like Central City in a section like the -southernmost part of Georgia. Some of the country folks and even -those in town would probably say it was too plain—didn't have enough -colour about it. Oh, well, that wouldn't matter, Kenneth thought. -They wouldn't have to live there. Most of them would hardly notice -it, if they paid any attention at all to relatively minor and -unimportant things like colour schemes. - -Kenneth felt that he had good reason to feel content with the -present outlook. He lighted a cigarette and settled himself more -comfortably in the deep chair and let his mind wander over the long -trail he had covered. He thought of the eight happy years he had -spent at Atlanta University—four of high school and four of college. -He remembered gratefully the hours of companionship with those men -and women who had left comfortable homes and friends in the North to -give their lives to the education of coloured boys and girls in -Georgia. They were so human—so sincere—so genuinely anxious to help. -It wasn't easy for them to do it, either, for it meant ostracism and -all its attendant unpleasantnesses to teach coloured children in -Georgia anything other than industrial courses. And they were so -different from the white folks he knew in Central City. Here he had -always been made to feel that because he was a "nigger" he was -predestined to inferiority. But there at Atlanta they had treated -him like a human being. He was glad he had gone to Atlanta -University. It had made him realize that all white folks weren't -bad—that there were decent ones, after all. - -And then medical school in the North! How eagerly he had looked -forward to it! The bustle, the air of alert and eager determination, -the lovely old ivied walls of the buildings where he attended -classes. He laughed softly to himself as he remembered how terribly -lonesome he had been that first day when as an ignorant country boy -he found himself really at a Northern school. That had been a hard -night to get through. Everybody had seemed so intent on doing -something that was interesting, going so rapidly towards the places -where those interesting things were to take place, greeting old -friends and acquaintances affectionately and with all the boisterous -bonhomie that only youth, and college youth at that, seem to be able -to master. It had been a bitter pill for him to swallow that he -alone of all that seething, noisy, tremendous mass of students, was -alone—without friend or acquaintance—the one lonely figure of the -thousands around him. - -That hadn't lasted long though. Good old Bill Van Vleet! That's what -having family and money and prestige behind you did for a fellow! It -was a mighty welcome thing when old Bill came to him there as he sat -dejectedly that second morning on the campus and roused him out of -his gloom. And then the four years when Bill had been his closest -friend. He had been one wonderful free soul that knew no line of -caste or race. - -His friendship with Van Vleet seemed to Kenneth now almost like the -memory of a pleasant dream on awaking. Even then it had often seemed -but a fleeting, evanescent experience a wholly temporary arrangement -that was intended to last only through the four years of medical -school. Those times when Bill had invited him to spend Christmas -holidays at his home they had been hard invitations to get out of. -Bill had been sincere enough, no doubt of that. But Bill's -father—his mother—their friends—would they—old Pennsylvania Dutch -family that they were would they be as glad to welcome a Negro into -their home? He had always been afraid to take the chance of finding -that they wouldn't. Decent enough had they been when Bill introduced -him to them on one of their visits to Philadelphia. But—and this was -a big "but"—there was a real difference between being nice to a -coloured friend of Bill's at school and treating that same fellow -decently in their own home. Kenneth was conscious of a vague feeling -even now that he had not treated them fairly in judging them by the -white people of Central City. Yet, white folks were white folks—and -that's that! Hadn't his father always told him that the best way to -get along with white people was to stay away from them and let them -alone as much as possible? - -Through his mind passed memories of the many conversations he had -had with his father on that subject. Especially that talk together -before he had gone away to medical school. He didn't know then it -was the last time he would see his father alive. He had had no way -of knowing that his father, always so rugged, so buoyantly healthy, -so uncomplaining, would die of appendicitis while he, Kenneth, was -in France. If he had only been at home! - -He'd have known it wasn't a case of plain cramps, as that old -fossil, Dr. Bennett, had called it. What was the exact way in which -his father had put his philosophy of life in the South during that -last talk they had had together? It had run like this: Any Negro can -get along without trouble in the South if he only attends to his own -business. It was unfortunate, mighty unpleasant and uncomfortable at -times, that coloured people, no matter what their standing, had to -ride in Jim Crow cars, couldn't vote, couldn't use the public -libraries and all those other things. Lynching, too, was bad. But -only bad Negroes ever got lynched. And, after all, those things -weren't all of life. Booker Washington was right. And the others who -were always howling about rights were wrong. Get a trade or a -profession. Get a home. Get some property. Get a bank account. Do -something! Be somebody! And then, when enough Negroes had reached -that stage, the ballot and all the other things now denied them -would come. White folks then would see that the Negro was deserving -of those rights and privileges and would freely, gladly give them to -him without his asking for them. That was the way he felt. When Bill -Van Vleet had urged him to go with him to dinners or the theatre, he -had had always some excuse that Bill had to accept whether he had -believed it or not. Good Old Bill! They never knew during those more -or less happy days what was in store for them both. - -Neither of them had known that the German Army was going to sweep -down through Belgium. Nor did they know that Bill was fated to end -his short but brilliant career as an aviator in a blazing, -spectacular descent behind the German lines, the lucky shot of a -German anti-aircraft gun. - -Graduation. The diploma which gave him the right to call himself -"Dr. Kenneth B. Harper." And then that stormy, yet advantageous year -in New York at Bellevue. Hadn't they raised sand at his, a Negro's -presumption in seeking that interneship at Bellevue! He'd almost -lost out. No Negro interne had ever been there before. If it hadn't -been for Dr. Cox, to whom he had had a letter of introduction from -his old professor of pathology at school, he never would have got -the chance. But it had been worth it. - -Kenneth lighted another cigarette and draped his legs over the arm -of the chair. It wasn't bad at all to think of the things he had -gone through—now that they were over. Especially the army. Out of -Bellevue one week when the chance came to go to the Negro officers' -training-camp at Des Moines. First lieutenant's bars in the medical -corps. Then the long months of training and hard work at Camp Upton, -relieved by occasional pleasant trips to New York. Lucky he'd been -assigned to the 367th of the 92nd Division. Good to be near a real -town like New York. - -That had been some exciting ride across. And then the Meuse, the -Argonne, then Metz. God, but that was a terrible nightmare! Right -back of the lines had he been assigned. Men with arms and legs shot -off. Some torn to pieces by shrapnel. Some burned horribly by -mustard gas. The worse night had been when the Germans made that -sudden attack at the Meuse. For five days they had been fighting and -working. That night he had almost broken down. How he had cursed -war! And those who made war. And the civilization that permitted -war—even made it necessary. Never again for him! Seemed like a -horrible dream—a nightmare worse than any he had ever known as a boy -when he'd eaten green apples or too much mince pie. - -That awful experience he had soon relegated to the background of his -mind. Especially when he was spending those blessed six months at -the Sorbonne. That had been another hard job to put over. They -didn't want any Negroes staying in France. They'd howled and they'd -brought up miles of red tape. But he had ignored the howls and -unwound the red tape. - -And now, Central City again. It was good to get back. -Four—eight—sixteen years had he spent in preparation. Now he was all -ready to get to work at his profession. For a time he'd have to do -general practising. Had to make money. Then he'd specialize in -surgery—major surgery. Soon's he got enough money ahead, he'd build -a sanitarium. Make of it as modern a hospital as he could afford. -He'd draw on all of South Georgia for his patients. Nearest one now -is Atlanta. All South Georgia—most of Florida—even from Alabama. Ten -years from now he'd have a place known and patronized by all the -coloured people in the South. Something like the Mayo Brothers up in -Rochester, Minnesota! - -"Pretty nifty, eh, Ken?" - -Kenneth, aroused suddenly from his retrospection and day-dreams, -jumped at the unexpected voice behind him. It was his younger -brother, Bob. He laughed a little shamefacedly at his having been -startled. Without waiting for a reply, Bob entered the room and sat -on the edge of the table facing Kenneth. - -"Yep! Things are shaping up rather nicely. Everything's here now but -the patients. And those'll be coming along pretty soon, I believe," -replied Kenneth confidently. He went on talking enthusiastically of -the castles in the air he had been building when Bob entered the -room—of the hospital he was going to erect—how he planned attending -the State Medical Convention every year to form contracts with other -coloured doctors of Georgia—how he was intending to visit during the -coming year all the coloured physicians within a radius of a hundred -miles of Central City to enlist their support. He discussed the -question of a name for the hospital. How would Harper's Sanitarium -sound? Or would the Central City Infirmary be better? Or the -Hospital of South Georgia? - -On and on Kenneth rambled, talking half to Bob, half in audible -continuation of his reverie before Bob had entered. But Bob wasn't -listening to him. On his face was the usual half-moody, -half-discontented expression which Kenneth knew so well. Bob was -looking down the dusty expanse of the road which bore rather poorly -the imposing title of State Street. The house was located at the -corner of Lee and State Streets. It was set back about fifty feet -from the streets, and the yard outside showed the work of one who -loved flowers. There was an expanse of smooth lawn, dotted here and -there with flowering beds of pansies, of nasturtiums. There were -several abundantly laden rose-bushes and two of "cape jessamine" -that filled the air with an intoxicating, almost cloying sweetness. - -Though it was a balmy October afternoon, the air languorous and -caressing, Bob shared none of the atmosphere's lazy contentment. All -this riot of colours and odours served in no manner to remove from -his face the dissatisfied look that covered it. He listened to -Kenneth's rhapsodies of what he intended accomplishing with what was -almost a grimace of distaste. He was taller than Kenneth, of -slighter build, but of the same rich colouring of skin and with the -same hair and features. - -In spite of these physical resemblances between the two brothers, -there was a more intangible difference which clearly distinguished -the two. Kenneth was more phlegmatic, more of a philosophic turn of -mind, more content with his lot, able to forget himself in his work, -and when that was finished, in his books. Bob, on the other hand, -was of a highly sensitized nature, more analytical of mind, more -easily roused to passion and anger. This tendency had been developed -since the death of his father just before he completed his freshman -year at Atlanta. The death had necessitated his leaving school and -returning to Central City to act as administrator of his father's -estate. His experiences in accomplishing this task had not been -pleasant ones. He had been forced to deal with the tricksters that -infested the town. He had come in contact with all the chicanery, -the petty thievery, the padded accounts, that only petty minds can -devise. The utter impotence he had felt in having no legal redress -as a Negro had embittered him. Joe Harper, their father, had been -exceedingly careful in keeping account of all bills owed and due -him. Yet Bob had been forced to pay a number of bills of which he -could find no record in his father's neatly kept papers. These had -aggregated somewhere between three and four thousand dollars. -Various white merchants of the town claimed that Joe Harper, his -father, owed them. Bob knew they were lying. Yet he could do -nothing. No court in South Georgia would have listened to his side -of the story or paid more than perfunctory attention to him. It was -a case of a white man's word against a Negro's, and a verdict -against the Negro was sure even before the case was opened. - -Kenneth, on the other hand, had been a favourite of their quiet, -almost taciturn father. Always filled with ambition for his -children, Joe Harper had furnished Kenneth, as liberally as he could -afford, the money necessary for him to get the medical education he -wanted. He had not been a rich man but he had been comfortably fixed -financially. Starting out as a carpenter doing odd jobs around -Central City, he had gradually expanded his activities to the -building of small houses and later to larger homes and business -buildings. Most of the two-story buildings that lined Lee Street in -the business section of Central City had been built by him. White -and coloured alike knew that when Joe Harper took a contract, it -would be done right. Aided by a frugal and economical wife, he had -purchased real estate and, though the profits had been slow and -small, had managed with his wife to accumulate during their -thirty-five years of married life between twenty and twenty-five -thousand dollars which he left at his death to his wife and three -children. - -Kenneth had been furnished with the best that his father could -afford, while Bob, some ten years younger than his brother, had had -to wait until Kenneth finished school before he could begin his -course. Bob felt no jealousy of his favoured brother, yet the -experiences that had been his in Central City while Kenneth was away -had tended towards a bitterness which frequently found expression on -his face. He was the natural rebel, revolt was a part of his creed. -Kenneth was the natural pacifist—he never bothered trouble until -trouble bothered him. Even then, if he could avoid it, he always -did. It was not strange, therefore, that he should have come home -believing implicitly that his father was right when he had said -Kenneth could get along without trouble in Central City as long as -he attended to his own business. - -Kenneth talked on and on, unfolding the plans he had made for the -extending of the influence of his hospital throughout the South. -Bob, occupied with his own thoughts, heard but little of it. -Suddenly he interrupted Kenneth with a sharply put question. - -"Ken, why did you come back to Central City?" he asked. He went on -without waiting for a reply. "If I had had your chances of studying -up North and in France, and living where you don't have to be A -afraid of getting into trouble with Crackers all the time, I'd -rather've done anything else than to come back to this rotten place -to live the rest of my life." - -Kenneth laughed easily, almost as though a five-year-old had asked -some exceedingly foolish question. - -"Why did I come back?" he repeated. "That's easy. I came back -because I can make more money here than anywhere else." - -"But that isn't the most important thing in life!" Bob exclaimed. - -"Maybe not the most important," Kenneth laughed, "but a mighty -convenient article to have lying around. I came back here where the -bulk of coloured people live and where they make money off their -crops and where there won't be much trouble for me to build up a big -practice." - -"That's an old argument," retorted Bob. "Nearly a million coloured -people went North during the war and they're making money there hand -over fist. You could make just as much money, if not more, in a city -like Detroit or Cleveland or New York, and you wouldn't have to be -always afraid you've given offence to some of these damned ignorant -Crackers down here." - -"Oh, I suppose I could've made money there. Dr. Cox at Bellevue told -me I ought to stay there in New York and practise in Harlem, but I -wanted to come back home. I can do more good here, both for myself -and for the coloured people, than I could up there." He paused and -then asserted confidently: "And I don't think I'll have any trouble -down here. Papa got along all right here in this town for more than -fifty years, and I reckon I can do it too." - -"But, Ken," Bob protested, "the way things were when he came along -are a lot different from the way they are now. Just yesterday Old -Man Mygatt down to the bank got mad and told me I was an ‘impudent -young nigger that needed to be taught my place' because I called his -hand on a note he claimed papa owed the bank. He knew I knew he was -lying, and that's what made him so mad. They're already saying I'm -not a ‘good nigger' like papa was and that education has spoiled me -into thinking I'm as good as they are. Good Lord, if I wasn't any -better than these ignorant Crackers in this town, I'd go out and -jump in the river." - -Bob was working himself into a temper. Kenneth interrupted him with -a good-natured smile as he said: - -"Bob, you're getting too pessimistic. You've been reading too many -of these coloured newspapers published in New York and Chicago and -these societies that're always playing up some lynching or other -trouble down here—" - -"What if I have? I don't need to read them to know that things are -much worse to-day than they were a few years back. You haven't lived -down here for nearly nine years and you don't know how things are -changed." - -"It's you who have changed—not conditions so much!" Kenneth -answered. "What if there are mean white folks? There are lots of -other white people who want to see the Negro succeed. Only this -morning Dr. Bennett told mamma he was glad I came back and he'd do -what he could to help me. And there're lots more like" - -"That's nice of Dr. Bennett," interjected Bob. "He can afford to -talk big—he's got the practice of this town sewed up. And, most of -all, he's a white man. Suppose some of these poor whites get it into -their heads to make trouble because you're getting too -prosperous—what then? Dr. Bennett and all the rest of the good white -folks around here can't help you!" - -"Oh, yes, they can," Kenneth observed with the same confident smile. -"Judge Stevenson and Roy Ewing and Mr. Baird at the Bank of Central -City and a lot others run this town and they aren't going to let any -decent coloured man be bothered. Why, I'll have a cinch around this -part of Georgia! There aren't more than half a dozen coloured -doctors in all this part of the country who've had a decent medical -education and training. All they know is ladling out pills and fake -panaceas. In a few years I'll be able to give up general practising -and give all my time to major surgery. I'll handle pretty nearly -everything in this part of the State. And then you'll see I'm -right!" - -"Have it your own way," retorted Bob. "But I'm telling you again, -you haven't been living down here for eight or nine years and you -don't know. When all these Negroes were going North, some of these -same ‘good white folks' you're depending on started talking about -‘putting niggers in their place' when they couldn't get servants and -field hands. You'll find things a lot different from the way they -were when you went up North to school." - -"What're you boys fussing about? What's the trouble?" - -Bob and Kenneth turned at the voice from the doorway behind them. It -was their mother. "Nothing, mamma, only Bob's got a fit of the blues -to-day." - -Mrs. Harper came in and looked from one to the other of her sons. -She was a buxom, pleasant-faced woman of fifty-odd years, her hair -once brown now flecked with grey. She wiped the perspiration from -her forehead with the corner of her apron, announcing meanwhile that -supper was ready. As he rose, Kenneth continued his explanation of -their conversation. - -"Bob's seeing things like a kid in the dark. He thinks I'll not be -able to do the things I came back here to accomplish. Thinks the -Crackers won't let me! I'm going to solve my own problem, do as much -good as I can, make as much money as I can! If every Negro in -America did the same thing, there wouldn't be any race problem." - -Mrs. Harper took an arm of each of her sons and led them into the -dining-room where their sister Mamie was putting supper on the -table. - -"You're right, Kenneth," Mrs. Harper remarked as she sat down at the -table. "Your father and I got along here together in Central City -without a bit of trouble for thirty-five years, and I reckon you can -do it too." - -"But, mamma," Bob protested, "I've been telling Ken things are not -what they were when you and papa came along. Why—" - -"Let's forget the race problem for a while," Kenneth interrupted. -"I'm too hungry and tired to talk about it now." - -"That's right," was Mrs. Harper's comment. "Draw your chairs up to -the table. You're not goin' to have any trouble here in town, Ken, -and we're mighty glad you came back. Mrs. Amos was in this afternoon -and she tells me they're having some trouble out near Ashland -between the coloured sharecroppers and their landlords, but that'll -blow overjust as it's always done." - -"What's the trouble out there?" asked Kenneth. He wasn't much -interested, for he could hear Mamie, in the kitchen beyond, singing -some popular air to the accompaniment of chicken-frying. - -"It's a case where coloured farmers claim they can't get fair -settlements from their landlords for their crops at the end of the -year," explained his mother. - -"Why don't they hire a lawyer?" Kenneth asked, with little interest. - -"That shows you've forgotten all about things in the South," said -Bob with mingled triumph and despair at his brother's ignorance. -"There isn't a white lawyer in Georgia who'd take a case like this. -In the first place, the courts would be against him because his -client's a Negro, and in the second place, he'd have to buck this -combination of landlords, storekeepers, and bankers who are getting -rich robbing Negroes. If a white lawyer took a case of a Negro -share-cropper, he'd either sell out to the landlord or be scared to -death before he ever got to court. And as for a Negro lawyer," here -Bob laughed sardonically, "he'd be run out of town by the Ku Klux -Klan or lynched almost before he took the case!" - -"Oh, I don't know so much about that!" Kenneth replied. "There are -landlords, without doubt, who rob their tenants, but after all there -are only a few of them. And furthermore," he declared as Mamie -entered the room with a platter of fried chicken in one hand and a -plate of hot biscuits in the other, "supper looks just a little bit -more interesting to me right now than landlords, tenants, or -problems of any kind." - -Mamie divested herself of her apron and sat down to the table. She -was an attractive girl of twenty-two or twenty-three, more slender -than Bob, and about Kenneth's height. Her hair was darker than that -of either of her brothers, was parted in the middle and brushed down -hard on either side. Though not a pretty girl, she had an air about -her as though she was happy because of the sheer joy of living. She -had graduated from Atlanta University two years before, and with two -other girls had been teaching the seven grades in the little -ramshackle building that served as a coloured school in the town. -That hard work had not as yet begun to tell on her. She seemed -filled with buoyant good health and blessed with a lively good -nature. Yet she too was inclined to spells of depression like Bob's. -She resembled him more nearly than Kenneth. As has every comely -coloured girl in towns of the South like Central City, she had had -many repulsive experiences when she had to fight with might and main -to ward off unwelcome attentions—both of the men of her own race and -of white men. Especially had this been true since the death of her -father. Often her face overclouded as she thought of them. She, like -Bob, felt always as though they were living on top of a volcano—and -never knew when it might erupt. … - -The four sat at supper. Forgotten were problems other than the -immediate one of Kenneth's in getting his practice under way. -Eagerly they talked of his plans, his prospects, his ambitions. Bob -said nothing until they began to discuss him and his plans for -returning to school the following fall, now that Kenneth was back to -complete the settling of the small details that remained in -connection with Joe Harper's estate. … - -It was a happy and reasonably prosperous, intelligent family -group—one that can be duplicated many, many times in the South. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - -SITUATED in the heart of the farming section of the State, with its -fertile soil, its equable climate, its forests of pine trees, -Central City was one of the flourishing towns of South Georgia. Its -population was between eight and ten thousand, of which some four -thousand were Negroes. The wealth and prosperity of the town -depended not so much on the town itself as it did on the farmers of -the fertile lands surrounding it. To Central City they came on -Saturday afternoons to sell their cotton, their corn, their hogs and -cows, and to buy in turn sugar, cloth, coffee, farming-implements, -shoes, and amusement. It was divided into four nearly equal sections -by the intersection of the tracks of the Central of Georgia Railroad -and of the Georgia, Southern and Florida Railway. Drowsy, indolent -during the first six days of the week, Central City awoke on -Saturday morning for "goin't town" day with its bustle and -excitement and lively trade. Then the broad dustiness of Lee Street -was disturbed by the Fords and muddied wagons of farmers, white and -black. In the wagons were usually splint-bottom chairs or boards -stretched from side to side, occupied by scrawny, lanky "po' whites" -with a swarm of children to match, clad in single-piece garments, -once red in colour and now, through many washings with lye soap, an -indeterminate reddish brown. Or, if the driver was a Negro, he -generally was surrounded by just as many little black offspring, -clad also in greyish or reddish-brown garments, and scrambling over -the farm products being brought to town for sale or exchange for the -simple and few store products needed. And beside him the usually -buxom, ample-bodied wife, clad in her finest and most gaudy clothing -to celebrate the trip to town looked forward to eagerly all the -week. - -Crowded were the streets with vehicles and the sidewalks with the -jostling, laughing, loudly talking throng of humans. After the -noonday whistle had blown signalling release to the hordes of whites -working in the cotton mill over beyond the tracks, the crowd was -augmented considerably, the new-comers made up of those who had -deserted the country districts, discouraged by the hard life of -farming, by rainy and unprofitable seasons, by the ravages of the -boll weevil and of landlords, both working dire distress on poor -white and black alike. Discouraged, they had come to "the city" to -work at small wages in the cotton mill. - -All the trading done on these days did not take place over the -counters of the stores that lined Lee Street. In the dirty little -alleyways from off the main street, men with furtive eyes but bold -ways dispensed synthetic gin, "real" rye whisky, and more often -"white mule," as the moonshine corn whisky is called. Bottles were -tilted and held to the mouth a long time and later the scene would -be enlivened by furious but shortlived fights. Guns, knives, all -sorts of weapons appeared with miraculous speed—the quarrel was -settled, the wounded or killed removed, and the throng forgot the -incident in some new joyous and usually commonplace or sordid -adventure. - -When darkness began to approach, the wagons and Fords, loaded with -merchandise for the next week, and with the children clutching -sticky and brightly coloured candies, began to rumble countrywards, -and Central City by nightfall had resumed its sleepy, indolent, and -deserted manner. - -From the corner where Oglethorpe Avenue crossed Lee Street and where -stood the monument to the Confederate Dead, the business section -extended up Lee Street for three blocks. Here the street was -dignified with a narrow "park," some twenty feet in width, which ran -the length of the business thoroughfare. Over beyond the monument -lay the section of Central City where lived the more well-to-do of -its white inhabitants. Georgia Avenue was here the realm of the -socially elect. Shaded by elms, it numbered several more or less -pretentious homes of two stories, some of brick, the majority of -frame structure. Here were the homes of Roy Ewing, president of the -local Chamber of Commerce and owner of Ewing's General Merchandise -Emporium; of George Baird, president of the Bank of Central City; of -Fred Griswold, occupying the same relation to Central City's other -bank, the Smith County Farmers' Bank; of Ralph Minor, owner and -manager of the Bon Ton Store. - -Here too were the wives of these men, busying themselves with their -household duties and the minor social life of the community. In the -morning they attended to the many details of housekeeping; in the -afternoon and early evening they sat on their front porches or -visited neighbours or went for a ride. Placid, uneventful, stupid -lives they led with no other interests than the petty affairs of a -small and unprogressive town. - -The young girls of Central City usually in the afternoon dressed in -all their small-town finery and strolled down to Odell's Drug Store -where the young men congregated. Having consumed a frothy soda or a -gummy, sweetish sundae, they went to the Idle Hour Moving Picture -Palace to worship at the celluloid shrine of a favourite film actor, -usually of the highly romantic type. Then the stroll homewards, -always past the Central City Hotel, a two-storied frame structure -located at the corner of Lee Street and Oglethorpe Avenue opposite -the Confederate monument. In front were arm-chairs, occupied in warm -weather, which was nearly all the year round, by travelling salesmen -or other transients. Often a sidelong glance and a fleeting, -would-be-coy smile would cause one of the chair-occupants to rise as -casually as he could feign, yawn and stretch, and with affected -nonchalance stroll down Lee Street in the wake of the smiling one. … - -At the other end of Lee Street from the residential section of the -well-to-do whites, past the business section of that main artery of -the town, lay that portion known generally as "Darktown." Fringing -it were several better-than-the-average homes, neat, well painted, -comfortable-looking, fronted with smooth lawns and tidy, colourful -flower-beds. It was one of these at the corner of Lee and State -Streets that the Harpers owned and occupied. - -After crossing State Street, an abrupt descent was taken by Lee -Street. Here lived in squalor and filth and abject poverty the -poorer class of Negroes. The streets were winding, unpaved lanes, -veritable seas and rivers of sticky, gummy, discouraging mud in -rainy weather, into which the wheels of vehicles sank to their hubs -if the drivers of those conveyances were indiscreet enough to drive -through them. In summer these eddying wallows of muck and filth and -mud dry up and are transformed into swirling storms of germ-laden -dust when a vagrant wind sweeps over them or a vehicle drives -through them, choking the throats of unlucky passers-by, and, to the -despair of the dusky housewives, flying through open windows. The -houses that bordered these roads were for the most part of three and -four rooms, the exteriors unpainted or whitewashed, the interiors -gloomy and smelly. But few of them had sanitary arrangements, and at -the end of the little patch of ground that was back of each of them, -in which a few discouraged vegetables strove to push their heads -above the ground, there stood another unpainted structure, small, -known as "the privy." In front there was nearly always some attempt -at flower-cultivation, the tiny beds bordered with bottles, shells, -and bits of brightly coloured glass. The ugliness of the houses in -many instances was hidden in summer-time by vines and rambler roses -that covered the porches and sometimes the fronts of the houses. - -Around these houses, in the streets, everywhere, there played a -seemingly innumerable horde of black and brown and yellow children, -noisy, quarrelsome, clad usually in one-piece dresses of the same -indeterminate shade of grey or red or brown that was seen on the -country children on Saturday. In front of many of the houses, there -sat on sunny days an old and bent man or ancient woman puffing the -omnipresent corn-cob pipe. … - -A half-mile westward from "Darktown," and separated from it by the -Central of Georgia Railroad tracks, stood the Central City Cotton -Spinning-Mill. Clustered around its ugly red-brick walls stood -dwellings that differed but little from those of "Darktown." Here -were the same dingy, small, unsanitary, unbeautiful, and unpainted -dwellings. Here were the same muddy or dusty unpaved streets. Here -were the same squalor and poverty and filth and abject ignorance. -There were but few superficial or recognizable differences. One was -that the children wore, instead of the brown plumpness of the Negro -children, a pale, emaciated, consumptive air because of the long -hours in the lint-laden confines of the mills. The men were long, -stooped, cadaverous-appearing. The women were sallow, unattractive, -sad-looking, each usually with the end of a snuff-stick protruding -from her mouth. The children, when they played at all, did so in -listless, wearied, uninterested, and apathetic fashion. The houses -looked even more gaunt and bare than those in the quarter which -housed the poorer Negroes, for the tiny patches of ground that -fronted the houses here in "Factoryville" were but seldom planted -with flowers. More often it was trampled down until it became a -hard, red-clay, sunbaked expanse on which the children, and dogs as -emaciated and forlorn, sometimes played. - -Here there was but one strong conviction, but one firm rock of faith -to which they clung—the inherent and carefully nurtured hatred of -"niggers" and a belief in their own infinite superiority over their -dark-skinned neighbours. Their gods were Tom Watson and Hoke Smith -and Tom Hardwick and other demagogic politicians and office-seekers -who came to them every two or four years and harangued them on the -necessity of their upholding white civilization by re-electing them -to office. But one appeal was needed—but one was used—and that one -always successfully. Meanwhile, their children left school and -entered the mill to work the few years that such a life gave them. -And, in the meantime, the black children they hated so-deprived by -prejudice from working in the mills, and pushed forward by often -illiterate but always ambitious black parents—went to school. … - -This, in brief, was the Central City to which Kenneth had returned. -A typical Southern town—reasonably rich as wealth is measured in -that part of Georgia—rich in money and lands and cot—amazingly -ignorant in the finer things of life. Noisy, unreflective, their -wants but few and those easily satisfied. The men, self-made, with -all that that distinctly American term implies. The women concerned -only with their petty household affairs and more petty gossip and -social intercourse. But, beyond these, life was and is a closed -book. Or, more, a book that never was written or printed. - -The companionship and inspiration of books was unknown. Music, even -with the omnipresent Victrola, meant only the latest bit of cheap -jazz or a Yiddish or Negro dialect song. Art, in its many forms was -considered solely for decadent, effete "furriners." Hostility would -have met the woman of the town's upper class who attempted to -exhibit any knowledge of art. Her friends would have felt that she -was trying "to put something over on them." As for any man of the -town, at best he would have been considered a "little queer in the -head," at the worst suspected of moral turpitude or perversion. But -two releases from the commonplace, monotonous life were left. The -first, liquor. Bootlegging throve. The woods around Central City -were infested with "moonshine" stills that seldom were still. The -initiated drove out to certain lonely spots, deposited under -well-known trees a jug or other container with a banknote stuck in -its mouth. One then gave a certain whistle and walked away. Soon -there would come an answering signal. One went back to the tree and -found the money gone but the container filled with a colourless or -pale-yellow liquid. … Or, the more affluent had it brought to them -in town hidden under wagon-loads of fodder or cotton. - -The other and even more popular outlet of unfulfilled and suppressed -emotions was sex. Central City boasted it had no red-light district -like Macon and Savannah and Atlanta. That was true. All over the -town were protected domiciles housing slatternly women. To them went -by circuitous routes the merchants whose stores were on Lee Street. -To them went the gangs from the turpentine camps on their periodic -pilgrimages to town on pay-day. And a traveller on any of the roads -leading from the town could see, on warm evenings, automobiles -standing with engines stilled and lights dimmed on the side of the -road. Down on Harris and Butler Streets in "Darktown" were other -houses. Here were coloured women who seemed never to have to work. -Here was seldom seen a coloured man. And the children around these -houses were usually lighter in colour than in other parts of -"Darktown." - -Negro fathers and mothers of comely daughters never allowed them to -go out unaccompanied after dark. There were too many dangers from -men of their own race. And even greater ones from men of the other -race. There had been too many disastrous consequences from -relaxation of vigil by certain bowed and heart-broken coloured -parents. And they had no redress at law. The laws of the State -against intermarriage saw to it that there should be none. Central -City inhabitants knew all these things. But familiarity with them -had bred the belief that they did not exist—that is, they were -thought a natural part of the town's armament against scandal. One -soon grew used to them and forgot them. The town was no worse than -any other—far better than most. - -It was a rude shock to Kenneth when he began to see these things -through an entirely different pair of eyes than those with which he -had viewed them before he left Central City for the North. The -sordidness, the blatant vulgarity, the viciousness of it -all—especially the houses on Butler and Harris Streets—appalled and -sickened him. Even more was he disgusted by the complacent -acceptance of the whole miserable business by white and black alike. -On two or three occasions he tentatively mentioned it to a few of -those he had known intimately years before. Some of them laughed -indulgently—others cautioned him to leave it alone. Finding no -response, he shrugged his shoulders and dismissed the whole affair -from his mind. "It was here long before I was born," he said to -himself philosophically, "it'll probably be here long after I'm -dead, and the best thing for me to do is to stick to my own business -and let other people's morals alone." - - - - - CHAPTER III - - -KENNETH came into contact with few others than his own people during -the first month after his return to Central City. The first two -weeks had been spent in getting his offices arranged with the -innumerable details of carpentering, plastering, painting, and -disposition of the equipment he had ordered in New York during the -days he had spent there on his return from France. - -During the early months of 1917, when through every available means -propaganda was being used to whip into being America's war spirit, -one of the most powerful arguments heard was that of the beneficial -effect army life would have on the men who entered the service. -Newspapers and magazines were filled with it, orators in church and -theatre and hall shouted it, every signboard thrust it into the -faces of Americans. Alluring pictures were painted of the growth, -physical and mental, that would certainly follow enlistment "to make -the world safe for democracy." - -To some of those who fought, such a change probably did come, but -the mental outlook of most of them was changed but little. The war -was too big a thing, too terrible and too searing a catastrophe, to -be adequately comprehended by the farmer boys, the clerks, and the -boys fresh from school who chiefly made up the fighting forces. -Their lives had been too largely confined to the narrow ways to -enable them to realize the immensity of the event into which they -had been so suddenly plunged. Their most vivid memories were of -"that damned second loot" or of _beaucoup vin blanc_ or, most -frequently, of all-too-brief adventures with the _mademoiselles_. -With the end of the war and demobilization had come the short -periods of hero-worship and then the sudden forgetfulness of those -for whom they had fought. The old narrow life began again with but -occasional revolts against the monotony of it all, against the -blasting of the high hopes held when the war was being fought. Even -these spasmodic revolts eventually petered out in vague mutterings -among men like themselves who let their inward dissatisfaction -dissipate in thin air. - -More deep-rooted was this revolt among Negro ex-service men. Many of -them entered the army, not so much because they were fired with the -desire to fight for an abstract thing like world democracy, but, -because they were of a race oppressed, they entertained very -definite beliefs that service in France would mean a more decent -regime in America, when the war was over, for themselves and all -others who were classed as Negroes. Many of them, consciously or -subconsciously, had a spirit which might have been expressed like -this: "Yes, we'll fight for democracy in France, but when that's -over with we're going to expect and we're going to get some of that -same democracy for ourselves right here in America." It was because -of this spirit and determination that they submitted to the rigid -army discipline to which was often added all the contumely that race -prejudice could heap upon them. - -Kenneth was of that class which thought of these things in a more -detached, more abstract, more subconscious manner. During the days -when, stationed close to the line, he treated black men brought to -the base hospital with arms and legs torn away by exploding shells, -with bodies torn and mangled by shrapnel, or with flesh seared by -mustard gas, he had inwardly cursed the so-called civilization which -not only permitted but made such carnage necessary. But when the -nightmare had ended, he rapidly forgot the nausea he had felt, and -plunged again into his beloved work. More easily than he would have -thought possible, he forgot the months of discomfort and weariness -and bloodshed. It came back to him only in fitful memories as of -some particularly horrible dream. - -To Kenneth, when work grew wearisome or when memories would not -down, there came relaxation in literature, an opiate for which he -would never cease being grateful to Professor Fuller, his old -teacher at Atlanta. It was "Pop". Fuller who, with his benign and -paternal manner, his adoration of the best of the world's -literature, had sown in Kenneth the seed of that same love. He read -and reread _Jean Christophe_, finding in the adventures and -particularly in the mental processes of Rolland's hero many of his -own reactions towards life. He had read the plays of Bernard Shaw, -garnering here and there a morsel of truth though much of Shaw -eluded him. Theodore Dreiser's gloominess and sex-obsession he liked -though it often repelled him; he admired the man for his honesty and -disliked his pessimism or what seemed to him a dolorous outlook on -life. He loved the colourful romances of Hergesheimer, considering -them of little enduring value but nevertheless admiring his -descriptions of affluent life, enjoying it vicariously. Willa -Cather's _My Antonia_ he delighted in because of its simplicity and -power and beauty. - -The works of D. H. Lawrence, Kenneth read with conflicting emotions. -Mystical, turgid, tortuous phrases, and meaning not always clear. -Yet he revelled in Lawrence's clear insight into the bends and -backwaters and perplexing twistings of the stream of life. Kenneth -liked best of all foreign writers Knut Hamsun. He had read many -times _Hunger, Growth of the Soil_, and other novels of the -Norwegian writer. He at times was annoyed by their lack of plot, but -more often he enjoyed them because they had none, reflecting that -life itself is never a smoothly turned and finished work of art, its -causes and effects, its tears and joys, its loves and hates neatly -dovetailing one into another as writers of fiction would have it. - -So too did he satisfy his love for the sea in the novels of -Conrad—the love so many have who are born and grow to manhood far -from the sea. Kenneth loved it with an abiding and passionate love -loved, yet feared it for its relentless power and savagery—a love -such as a man would have for an alluring, yet tempestuous mistress -of fiery and uncertain temper. In Conrad's romances he lived by -proxy the life he would have liked had not fear of the water and the -circumstances of his life prevented it. Flaubert, Zola, Maupassant -he read and reread, finding in the struggles of _Emma Bovary_ and -_Nana_ and other heroines and heroes of the French realists mental -counterparts of some of the coloured men and women of his -acquaintance in their struggles against the restrictions of stupid -and crass and ignorant surroundings. The very dissimilarities of -environment and circumstance between his own acquaintances and the -characters in the novels he read, seemed to emphasize the narrowness -of his own life in the South. So does a bedridden invalid read with -keen delight the adventurous and rococo romances of Zane Grey or -Jack London. - -But perhaps best of all he admired the writing of Du Bois—the fiery, -burning philippics of one of his own race against the proscriptions -of race prejudice. He read them with a curious sort of detachment—as -being something which touched him in a more or less remote way but -not as a factor in forming his own opinions as a Negro in a land -where democracy often stopped dead at the colour line. - -It was in this that Kenneth's attitude towards life was most clearly -shown. His was the more philosophic viewpoint on the race question, -that problem so close to him. The proscriptions which he and others -of his race were forced to endure were inconvenient, yet they were -apparently a part of life, one of its annoyances, a thing which had -always been and probably would be for all time to come. Therefore, -he reasoned, why bother with it any more than one was forced to by -sheer necessity? Better it was for him if he attended to his own -individual problems, solved them to the best of his ability and as -circumstances would permit, and left to those who chose to do it the -agitation for the betterment of things in general. If he solved his -problems and every other Negro did the same, he often thought, then -the thing we call the race problem will be solved. Besides, he -reasoned, the whole thing is too big for one man to tackle it, and -if he does attack it, more than likely he will go down to defeat in -the attempt. And what would be gained? … - -His office completed, Kenneth began the making of those contacts he -needed to secure the patients he knew were coming. In this his -mother and Mamie were of invaluable assistance. Everybody knew the -Harpers. It was a simple matter for Kenneth to renew acquaintances -broken when he had left for school in the North. He joined local -lodges of the Grand United Order of Heavenly Reapers and the Exalted -Knights of Damon. The affected mysteriousness of his initiation into -these fraternal orders, the secret grip, the passwords, the -elaborately worded rituals, all of which the other members took so -seriously, amused him, but he went through it all with an out wardly -solemn demeanour. He knew it was good business to affiliate himself -with these often absurd societies which played so large a part in -the lives of these simple and illiterate coloured folk. Along with -the strenuous emotionalism of their religion, it served as an outlet -for their naturally deep feelings. In spite of the renewal of -acquaintances, the careful campaign of winning confidence in his -ability as a physician, Kenneth found that the flood of patients did -not come as he had hoped. The coloured people of Central City had -had impressed upon them by three hundred years of slavery and that -which was called freedom after the Emancipation Proclamation was -signed, that no Negro doctor, however talented, was quite as good as -a white one. This slave mentality, Kenneth now realized, inbred upon -generation after generation of coloured folk, is the greatest -handicap from which the Negro suffers, destroying as it does that -confidence in his own ability which would enable him to meet without -fear or apology the test of modern competition. - -Kenneth's youthful appearance, too, militated against him. Though -twenty-nine years old, he looked not more than a mere twenty-four or -twenty-five. "He may know his stuff and be as smart as all -outdoors," ran the usual verdict, "but I don't want no boy treating -me when I'm sick." - -Perhaps the greatest factor contributing to the coloured folks' lack -of confidence in physicians of their own race was the inefficiency -of Dr. Williams, the only coloured doctor in Central City prior to -Kenneth's return. Dr. Williams belonged to the old school and moved -on the theory that when he graduated some eighteen years before from -a medical school in Alabama, the development of medical knowledge -had stopped. He fondly pictured himself as being the most prominent -personage of Central City's Negro colony, was pompous, bulbous-eyed, -and exceedingly fond of long words, especially of Latin derivation. -He made it a rule of his life never to use a word of one syllable if -one of two or more would serve as well. Active in fraternal order -circles (he was a member of nine lodges), class-leader in Central -City's largest Methodist church, arbiter supreme of local affairs in -general, he filled the rôle with what he imagined was unsurpassable -éclat. His idea of complimenting a hostess was ostentatiously to -loosen his belt along about the middle of dinner. Once he had been -introduced as the "black William Jennings Bryan," believed it -thereafter, and thought it praise of a high order. - -He was one of those who say on every possible occasion: "I am kept -so terribly busy I never have a minute to myself." Like nine out of -ten who say it, Dr. Williams always repeated this stock phrase of -those who flatter themselves in this fashion—so necessary to those -of small minds who would be thought great—not because it was true, -but to enhance his pre-eminence in the eyes of his hearers—and in -his own eyes as well. - -He always wore coats which resembled morning coats, known in local -parlance as "Jim-swingers." He kept his hair straightened, wore it -brushed straight back from his forehead like highly polished steel -wires, and, with pomades and hair oils liberally applied, it -glistened like the patent leather shoes which adorned his ample -feet. - -His stout form filled the Ford in which he made his professional -calls, and it was a sight worth seeing as he majestically rolled -through the streets of the town bowing graciously and calling out -loud greetings to the acquaintances he espied by the way. Always his -bows to white people were twice as low and obsequious as to those of -darker skin. Until Kenneth returned, Dr. Williams had had his own -way in Central City. Through his fraternal and church connections -and lack of competition, he had made a little money, much of it -through his position as medical examiner for the lodges to which he -belonged. As long as he treated minor ailments—cuts, colic, -childbirths, and the like he had little trouble. But when more -serious maladies attacked them, the coloured population sent for the -old white physician, Dr. Bennett, instead of for Dr. Williams. - -The great amount of time at his disposal irritated Kenneth. He was -like a spirited horse, champing at the bit, eager to be off. The -patronizing air of his people nettled him—caused him to reflect -somewhat bitterly that "a prophet is not without honour save in his -own country." And when one has not the gift of prophecy to foretell, -or of clairvoyance to see, what the future holds in the way of -success, one is not likely to develop a philosophic calm which -enables him to await the coming of long-desired results. He was -seated one day in his office reading when his mother entered. -Closing his book, he asked the reason for her frown. - -"You remember Mrs. Bradley—Mrs. Emma Bradley down on Ashley -Street-don't you, Kenneth?" Without waiting for a reply, Mrs. Harper -went on: "Well, she's mighty sick. Jim Bradley has had Dr. Bennett -in to see what's the matter with her but he don't seem to do her -much good." - -Kenneth remembered Mrs. Bradley well indeed. The most talkative -woman in Central City. It was she who had come to his mother with a -long face and dolorous manner when he as a youngster had misbehaved -in church. He had learned instinctively to connect Mrs. Bradley's -visits with excursions to the little back room accompanied by his -mother and a switch cut from the peach-tree in the back yard—a sort -of natural cause and effect. Visions of those days rose in his mind -and he imagined he could feel the sting of those switches on his -legs now. - -"What seems to be the trouble with her?" he asked. - -"It's some sort of stomach-trouble—she's got an awful pain in her -side. She says it can't be her appendix because she had that removed -up to Atlanta when she was operated on there for a tumour nearly -four years ago. Dr. Bennett gave her some medicine but it doesn't -help here any. Won't you run down there to see her?" - -"I can't, mamma, until I am called in professionally. Dr. Bennett -won't like it. It isn't ethical. Besides, didn't Mrs. Bradley say -when I came back that she didn't want any coloured doctor fooling -with her?" - -"Yes, she did, but you mustn't mind that. Just run in to see her as -a social call." - -Kenneth rose and instinctively took up his bag. Remembering, he put -it down, put on his hat, kissed his mother, and walked down to -Mrs. Bradley's. Outside the gate stood Dr. Bennett's mud-splashed -buggy, sagging on one side through years of service in carrying its -owner's great bulk. Between the shafts stood the old bay horse, its -head hung dejectedly as though asleep, which Central City always -connected with its driver. - -Entering the gate held by one hinge, Kenneth made his way to the -little three-room unpainted house which served as home for the -Bradleys and their six children. On knocking, the door was opened by -Dr. Bennett, who apparently was just leaving. He stood there, his -hat on, stained by many storms, its black felt turning a greenish -brown through years of service and countless rides through the red -dust of the roads leading out of Central City. Dr. Bennett himself -was large and flabby. His clothes hung on him in haphazard fashion -and looked as though they had never been subjected to the indignity -of a tailor's iron. A Sherlock Holmes, or even one less gifted, -could read on his vest with little difficulty those things which its -wearer had eaten for many meals past. Dr. Bennett's face was red -through exposure to many suns, and covered with the bristle of a -three days' growth of beard. Small eyes set close together, they -belied a bluff good humour which Dr. Bennett could easily assume -when there was occasion for it. The corners of the mouth were -stained a deep brown where tobacco juice had run down the folds of -the flesh. - -Behind him stood Jim Bradley with worried face, his ashy black skin -showing the effects of remaining all night by the bedside of his -wife. - -Dr. Bennett looked at Kenneth inquiringly. - -"Don't you remember me, Dr. Bennett? I'm Kenneth Harper." - -"Bless my soul, so it is. How're you, Ken? Le's see it's been nigh -on to eight years since you went No'th, ain't it? Heard you was back -in town. Hear you goin' to practise here. Come ‘round to see me some -time. Right glad you're here. I'll be kinder glad to get somebody to -help me treat these niggers for colic or when they get carved up in -a crap game. Hope you ain't got none of them No'then ideas 'bout -social equality while you was up there. Jus' do like your daddy did, -and you'll get along all right down here. These niggers who went -over to France and ran around with them Frenchwomen been causin' a -lot of trouble ‘round here, kickin' up a rumpus, and talkin' ‘bout -votin' and ridin' in the same car with white folks. But don't you -let them get you mixed up in it, ‘cause there'll be trouble sho's -you born if they don't shut up and git to work. Jus' do like your -daddy did, and you'll do a lot to keep the white folks' friendship." - -Dr. Bennett poured forth all this gratuitous advice between -asthmatic wheezes without waiting for Kenneth to reply. He then -turned to Jim Bradley with a parting word of advice. - -"Jim, keep that hot iron on Emma's stomach and give her those pills -every hour. ‘Tain't nothin' but the belly-ache. She'll be all right -in an hour or two." - -Turning without another word, he half ambled, half shuffled out to -his buggy, pulled himself up into it with more puffing and wheezing, -and drove away. Jim Bradley took Kenneth's arm and led him back on -to the little porch, closing the door behind him. - -"I'm pow'ful glad t' see you, Ken. My, but you done growed sence you -went up No'th! Befo' you go in dar, I want t' tell you somethin'. -Emma's been right po'ly fuh two days. Her stomach's swelled up right -sma't and she's been hollering all night. Dis mawning she don't seem -jus' right in de haid. I tol her I was gwine to ast you to come see -her, but she said she didn't want no young nigger doctah botherin' -with her. But don't you min' her. I wants you to tell me what to -do." - -Kenneth smiled. - -"I'll do what I can for her, Jim. But what about Dr. Bennett?" - -"Dat's a' right. He give her some med'cine but it ain't done her no -good. She's too good a woman fuh me to lose her, even if she do talk -a li'l' too much. You make out like you jus' drap in to pass the -time o' day with her." - -Kenneth entered the dark and ill-smelling room. Opposite the door a -fire smouldered in the fire-place, giving fitful spurts of flame -that illumined the room and then died down again. There was no -grate, the pieces of wood resting on crude andirons, blackened by -the smoke of many fires. Over the mantel there hung a cheap charcoal -reproduction of Jim and Emma in their wedding-clothes, made by some -local "artist" from an old photograph. One or two nondescript chairs -worn shiny through years of use stood before the fire. In one corner -stood a dresser on which were various bottles of medicine and of -"Madame Walker's Hair Straightener." On the floor a rug, worn -through in spots and patched with fragments of other rugs all -apparently of different colours, covered the space in front of the -bed. The rest of the floor was bare and showed evidences of a recent -vigorous scrubbing. The one window was closed tightly and covered -over with a cracked shade, long since divorced from its roller, -tacked to the upper ledge of the window. - -On the bed Mrs. Bradley was rolling and tossing in great pain. Her -eyes opened slightly when Kenneth approached the bed and closed -again immediately as a new spasm of pain passed through her body. -She moaned piteously and held her hands on her side, pressing down -hard one hand over the other. - -At a sign from Jim, Kenneth started to take her pulse. - -"Go way from here and leave me ‘lone! Oh, Lawdy, why is I suff'rin' -this way? I jus' wish I was daid! Oh-oh-oh!" - -This last as she writhed in agony. Kenneth drew back the covers, -examined Mrs. Bradley's abdomen, took her pulse. Every sign pointed -to an attack of acute appendicitis. He informed Jim of his -diagnosis. - -"But, Doc, it ain't dat trouble, 'cause Emma says dat was taken out -a long time ago." - -"I can't help what she says. She's got appendicitis. You go get -Dr. Bennett and tell him your wife has got to be operated on right -away or she is going to die. Get a move on you now! If it was my -case, I would operate within an hour. Stop by my house and tell Bob -to bring me an ice bag as quick as he can." - -Jim hurried away to catch Dr. Bennett. Kenneth meanwhile did what he -could to relieve Mrs. Bradley's suffering. In a few minutes Bob came -with the ice bag. Then Jim returned with his face even more doleful -than it had been when Kenneth had told him how sick his wife was. - -"Doc Bennett says he don't care what you do. He got kinder mad when -I told him you said it was ‘pendicitis, and tol' me dat if I -couldn't take his word, he wouldn't have anything mo' to do with -Emma. He seemed kinder mad ‘cause you said it was mo' than a -stomach-ache. Said he wa'n't goin' to let no young nigger doctor -tell him his bus'ness. So, Doc, you'll have t' do what you thinks -bes'." - -"All right, I'll do it. First thing, I'm going to move your wife -over to my office. We can put her up in the spare room. Bob will -drive her over in the car. Get something around her and you'd better -come on over with her. I'll get Dr. Williams to help me." - -Kenneth was jubilant at securing his first surgical case since his -return to Central City, though his pleasure was tinged with doubt as -to the ethics of the manner in which it had come to him. He did not -let that worry him very long, however, but began his preparations -for the operation. - -First he telephoned to Mrs. Johnson, who, before she married and -settled down in Central City, had been a trained nurse at a coloured -hospital at Atlanta. She hurried over at once. Neat, quiet, and -efficient, she took charge immediately of preparations, sterilizing -the array of shiny instruments, preparing wads of absorbent cotton, -arranging bandages and catgut and hæmostatics. - -Kenneth left all this to Mrs. Johnson, for he knew in her hands it -would be well done. He telephoned to Dr. Williams to ask that he -give the anæsthesia. In his excitement Kenneth neglected to put in -his voice the note of asking a great and unusual favour of -Dr. Williams. That eminent physician, eminent in his own eyes, -cleared his throat several times before replying, while Kenneth -waited at the other end of the line. He realized his absolute -dependence on Dr. Williams, for he knew no white doctor would assist -a Negro surgeon or even operate with a coloured assistant. There was -none other in Central City who could give the ether to Mrs. Bradley. -It made him furious that Dr. Williams should hesitate so long. At -the same time, he knew he must restrain the hot and burning words -that he would have used. The pompous one hinted of the pressure of -his own work—work that would keep him busy all day. - -Into his words he injected the note of affront at being asked—he, -the coloured physician of Central City—to assist a younger man. -Especially on that man's first case. Kenneth swallowed his anger and -pride, and pleaded with Dr. Williams at least to come over. Finally, -the older physician agreed in a condescending manner to do so. - -Hurrying back to his office, Kenneth found Mrs. Bradley arranged on -the table ready for the operation. Examining her, he found she was -in delirium, her eyes glazed, her abdomen hard and distended, and -she had a temperature of 105 degrees. He hastily sterilized his -hands and put on his gown and cap. As he finished his preparations, -Dr. Williams in leisurely manner strolled into the room with a -benevolent and patronizing "Howdy, Kenneth, my boy. I won't be able -to help you out after all. I've got to see some patients of my own." - -He emphasized "my own," for he had heard of the manner by which -Kenneth had obtained the case of Mrs. Bradley Kenneth, pale with -anger, excited over his first real case in Central City, stared at -Dr. Williams in amazement at his words. - -"But, Dr. Williams, you can't do that! Mrs. Bradley here is dying!" - -The older doctor looked around patronizingly at the circle of -anxious faces. Jim Bradley, his face lined and seamed with toil, the -lines deepened in distress at the agony of his wife and the -imminence of losing her, gazed at him with dumb pleading in his -eyes, pleading without spoken words with the look of an old, -faithful dog beseeching its master. Bob looked with a malevolent -glare at his pompous sleekness, as though he would like to spring -upon him. - -Mrs. Johnson plainly showed her contempt of such callousness on the -part of one who bore the title, however poorly, of physician. In -Kenneth's eyes was a commingling of eagerness and rage and -bitterness and anxiety. On Emma Bradley's face there was nothing but -the pain and agony of her delirious ravings. Dr. Williams seemed to -enjoy thoroughly his little moment of triumph. He delayed speaking -in order that it might be prolonged as much as possible. The silence -was broken by Jim Bradley. - -"Doc, won't you please he'p?" he pleaded. "She's all I got!" - -Kenneth could remain silent no longer. He longed to punch that fat -face and erase from it the supercilious smirk that adorned it. - -"Dr. Williams," he began with cold hatred in his voice, "either you -are going to give this anæsthesia or else I'm going to go into every -church in Central City and tell exactly what you've done here -today." - -Dr. Williams turned angrily on Kenneth. - -"Young man, I don't allow anybody to talk to me like that-least of -all, a young whippersnapper just out of school …" he shouted. - -By this time Kenneth's patience was at an end. He seized the lapels -of the other doctor's coat in one hand and thrust his clenched fist -under the nose of the now thoroughly alarmed Dr. Williams. - -"Are you going to help—or aren't you?" he demanded. - -The situation was becoming too uncomfortable for the older man. He -could stand Kenneth's opposition but not the ridicule which would -inevitably follow the spreading of the news that he had been beaten -up and made ridiculous by Kenneth. He swallowed—a look of indecision -passed over his face as he visibly wondered if Kenneth really dared -hit him—followed by a look of fear as Kenneth drew back his fist as -though to strike. Discretion seemed the better course to pursue he -could wait until a later and more propitious date for his revenge—he -agreed to help. A look of relief came over Jim Bradley's face. A -grin covered Bob's as he saw his brother showing at last some signs -of fighting spirit. Without further words Kenneth prepared to -operate. … - -The patient under the ether, Kenneth with sure, deft strokes made an -incision and rapidly removed the appendix. Ten—twelve—fifteen -minutes, and the work was done. He found Mrs. Bradley's peritoneum -badly inflamed, the appendix swollen and about to burst. A few -hours' delay and it would have been too late. … - -The next morning Mrs. Bradley's temperature had gone down to normal. -Two weeks later she was sufficiently recovered to be removed to her -home. Three weeks later she was on her feet again. Then Kenneth for -the first time in his life had no fault to find with the vigour with -which Mrs. Bradley could use her tongue. Glorying as only such a -woman can in her temporary fame at escape from death by so narrow a -margin, she went up and down the streets of the town telling how -Kenneth had saved her life. With each telling of the story it took -on more embellishments until eventually the simple operation ranked -in importance in her mind with the first sewing-up of the human -heart. - -Kenneth found his practice growing. His days were filled with his -work. One man viewed his growing practice with bitterness. It was -Dr. Williams, resentful of the small figure he had cut in the -episode in Kenneth's office, which had become known all over Central -City. Of a petty and vindictive nature, he bided his time until he -could force atonement from the upstart who had so presumptuously -insulted and belittled him, the Beau Brummel, the leading physician, -the prominent coloured citizen. But Kenneth, if he knew of the -hatred in the man's heart, was supremely oblivious of it. - -The morning after his operation on Mrs. Bradley, he added another to -the list of those who did not wish him well. He had taken the bottle -of alcohol containing Mrs. Bradley's appendix to Dr. Bennett to show -that worthy that he had been right, after all, in his diagnosis. He -found him seated in his office, Dr. Bennett, with little apparent -interest, glanced at the bottle. - -"Humph!" he ejaculated, aiming at the cuspidor and letting fly a -thin stream of tobacco juice which accurately met its mark. "You -never can tell what's wrong with a nigger anyhow. They ain't got -nacheral diseases like white folks. A hoss doctor can treat 'em -better'n one that treats humans. I always said that a nigger's more -animal than human. …" - -Kenneth had been eager to discuss the case of Mrs. Bradley with his -fellow practitioner. He had not even been asked to sit down by -Dr. Bennett. He realized for the first time that in spite of the -superiority of his medical training to that of Dr. Bennett's, the -latter did not recognize him as a qualified physician, but only as a -"nigger doctor." Making some excuse, he left the house. Dr. Bennett -turned back to the local paper he had been reading when Kenneth -entered, took a fresh chew of tobacco from the plug in his hip -pocket, grunted, and remarked: "A damned nigger telling me I don't -know medicine!" - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - -TWO months passed by. Kenneth had begun to secure more patients than -he could very well handle. Already he was kept busier than Dr. -Williams though there was enough practice for both of them. Kenneth -soon began to tire of treating minor ailments and longed to reach -the time when he could give up his general practice and devote his -time to surgery. Except for the delivery of the babies that came -with amazing rapidity in the community, he did little else than -treat colic, minor cuts, children's diseases, with an occasional -case of tuberculosis. More frequently he treated for venereal -diseases, though this latter was even more distasteful to him than -general practice while at the same time more remunerative. - -A new source of practice and revenue began gradually to grow. The -main entrance to his office was on Lee Street. This door was some -fifty feet back from Lee Street, and the overhanging branches of the -elms cut off completely the light from the street lamp at the -corner. One night, as he sat reading in his office, there came a -knock at his door. Opening it, he found standing there Roy Ewing. -Ewing had inherited the general merchandise store bearing his name -from his father, was a deacon in the largest Baptist Church in -Central City, was president of the Central City Chamber of Commerce, -and was regarded as a leading citizen. - -Kenneth gazed at his caller in some surprise. - -"Hello, Ken. Anybody around?" - -On being assured that he was alone, Ewing entered, brushing by -Kenneth to get out of the glare of the light. Kenneth followed him -into the office, meanwhile asking his caller what he could do for -him. - -"Ken, I've got a little job I want you to do for me. I'm in a little -trouble. Went up to Macon last month with Bill Jackson, and we had a -little fun. I guess I took too much liquor. We went by a place Bill -knew about where there were some girls. I took a fancy to a little -girl from Atlanta who told me she had slipped away from home and her -folks thought she was visiting her cousins at Forsyth. Anyhow, I -thought everything was all right, but I'm in a bad way and I want -you to treat me. I can't go to Dr. Bennett 'cause I don't want him -to know about it. I'll take care of you all right, and if you get me -fixed up I'll pay you well." - -Kenneth looked at him in amazement. Roy Ewing, acknowledged leader -of the "superior race"! He knew too much of the ways of the South, -however, to make any comment or let too much of what was going on in -his mind show on his face. He gave the treatment required. That was -Kenneth's introduction to one part of the work of a coloured -physician in the South. Many phases of life that he as a youth had -never known about or, before his larger experience in the North and -in France, had passed by him unnoticed, he now had brought to his -attention. This was one of them. He began to see more clearly that -his was going to be a difficult course to pursue. He determined anew -that as far as possible he would keep to his own affairs and meddle -not at all with the life about him. - -When Ewing had gone, Kenneth returned to his reading. Hardly had he -started again when Bob came in. - -"Can you stop for a few minutes, Ken? I want to talk with you." - -With a look of regret at his book, Kenneth settled back and prepared -to listen. - -"What world problem have you got on your mind now, Bob?" - -"Don't start to kidding me, Ken. I don't see how you can shut your -eyes to how coloured people are being treated here." - -"What's wrong? Everything seems to me to be getting along as well as -can be expected." - -"That's because you don't go out of the house unless you are -hurrying to give somebody a pill or a dose of medicine. To-day I -came by the school to get Mamie and bring her home. You ought to see -the dump they call a school building. It's a dirty old building that -looks like it'll fall down any time a hard wind comes along. All -that's inside is a rickety table, and some hard benches with no -desks, and when it rains they have to send the children home, as the -water stands two or three inches deep on the floor. Outside of Mamie -they haven't one teacher who's gone any higher than the sixth or -seventh grade—they have to take anybody who is willing to work for -the twelve dollars a month they pay coloured teachers." - -Bob's face had on it the look of discontent and resentment that was -almost growing chronic. - -"Well, what can we do about it? I'm afraid you're getting to be a -regular Atlas, trying to carry all the burdens of the world on your -shoulders. I know things aren't all they ought to be, but you and I -can't solve the problems. The race problem will be here long after -we're dead and gone." - -"Oh, for goodness' sake, shut up that preachy tone of long-suffering -patience, will you?—and forget your own little interests for a -while. I know you think I'm silly to let these things worry me. But -the reason why things are as bad as they are is just because the -majority of Negroes are like you—always dodging anything that may -make them unpopular with white folks. And that isn't all. There's a -gang of white boys that hang around Ewing's Store that meddle with -every coloured girl that goes by. I was in the store to-day when -Minnie Baxter passed by on her way to the post office, and that -dirty little Jim Archer said something that made me boil all over. -And it didn't help any to know that if I had said a word to him, -there would have been a fight, and I would have been beaten half to -death if I hadn't been killed." - -"Yes, I've seen that, too. What we ought to do is to try and keep -these girls off of Lee Street, unless someone is with them. If we -weren't living in the South, we might do something. But here we are, -and as long as we stay here, we've got to swallow a lot of these -things and stay to ourselves." - -"But, Ken, it isn't always convenient for someone to go downtown -with them. I'll tell you what let's do. Let's get the better class -of coloured people together like Reverend Wilson, Mr. Graham, Mr. -Adams, and some others, and form a Coloured Protective League here -in Central City. We can then take up these cases and see if -something can't be done to remedy them." - -Bob leaned forward in his eagerness to impress Kenneth with his -idea. - -"You see, if any one or two of us takes up a case we are marked men. -But if there are two or three hundred of us they can't take it out -on all of us." - -"That's true. But what about the effect on the white people whose -actions you want to check? If Negroes start organizing for any -purpose whatever, there'll always be folks who'll declare they are -planning to start some trouble. No, I don't think we ought to do -anything just now. I tell you what I'll do. The next time I see Roy -Ewing, I'll speak to him and ask him to stop those fellows from -annoying our girls, The fellows can take care of themselves." - -Bob rose and shrugged his shoulders and said nothing more. Kenneth -after a minute or two returned to his book. - -Nothing further was said on the subject for several days. When -Mr. Ewing called the following week, Kenneth brought the matter up, -and told him what Bob had said about the boys in front of Ewing's -store. - -"I've seen them doing it, Ken, and I spoke to them only to-day about -it. But you know, boys will be boys, and they haven't done any harm -to the girls. Their talk is a little rough at times, but as long as -it stops there, I don't see why anybody should object." - -"But, Mr. Ewing, Bob tells me that they say some pretty raw things. -Suppose one of them said the same things to Mrs. Ewing, how would -you feel then?" - -Ewing flushed. - -"That's different. Mrs. Ewing is a white woman." - -"But can't you see that we feel towards our women just as you do -towards yours? If one of those fellows ever spoke to my sister, -there's be trouble, and the Lord knows I want to get along with all -the people here, if I can. If this thing called democracy that I -helped fight for is worth anything at all, it ought to mean that we -coloured people should be protected like anybody else." - -Mr. Ewing looked at Kenneth sharply. - -"I know that things aren't altogether as they ought to be. It's -pretty tough on fellows like you, Ken, who have had an education. -While you were away, a bunch of these mill hands 'cross the tracks -got Jerry Bird, a nigger that'd been working for me nearly five -years. He came here from down the country some place after you left -for up North. Jerry was as steady a fellow as I've ever seen—as -honest as the day was long. I trusted Jerry anywhere, lots quicker -than I would've some of these white people 'round here. He had a -black skin but his heart was white. One night Jerry was over to my -house helping Mrs. Ewing until nearly ten o'clock. On his way home -this bunch of roughnecks from "Factoryville" stopped him while they -were looking for a nigger that'd scared a white girl. When Jerry got -scared and started to run, they took out after him and strung him up -to a tree. And he wasn't any more guilty of touching that white girl -than you or me." - -"What did you do about it?" asked Bob. - -"Nothing. Suppose I had kicked up a ruckus about it. They found out -afterwards that the girl hadn't been bothered at all. But just -suppose I had gone and cussed out the fellows who did the lynching. -Most of them trade at my store. Or if they don't, a lot of their -friends do. They'd have taken their trade to some other store and -I'd ‘a' gained nothing for my trouble." - -"But surely you don't believe that lynching ever helps, do you?" - -"Yes and no. Lynching never bothers folks like you. Why, your daddy -was one of the most respected folks in this town. But lynching does -keep some of these young nigger bucks in check." - -"Does it? It seems to me that there isn't much less so-called rape -around here or anywhere else in the South, even after forty years of -lynching. Mr. Ewing, why don't you and the other decent white people -here come out against lynching?" - -"Who? Me? Never!" Ewing looked his amazement at the suggestion. -"Why, it would ruin my business, my wife would begin to be dropped -by all the other folks of the town, and it wouldn't be long before -they'd begin calling me a ‘nigger-lover.' No, sir-ee! I'll just let -things rock along and let well enough alone." - -"Mr. Ewing, if fifty men like you in this town banded together and -came out flat-footedly against lynching, there are lots more who -would join you gladly." - -"That may be true," Ewing answered doubtfully. "But then again it -mightn't. Let's see who might be some of the fifty. There's George -Baird, he's president of the Bank of Central City, and Fred -Griswold, president of the Smith County Farmers' Bank. You can count -them out because they'd be afraid of losing their depositors. Then -there's Ralph Minor who owns the Bon Ton Store. He's out for the -same reason that I am. Then there's Nat Phelps, who runs the Central -City Dispatch. He has a hard enough time as it is. If he lost a -couple of hundred subscribers, he'd have to close up shop. And so it -goes." - -"What about the preachers? It doesn't seem much of a religion -they're preaching if the commandment, ‘Thou shalt not kill,' doesn't -form part of their creed." - -"Oh, you needn't look for nothing much from them. Three years ago -old Reverend Adams down to the First Methodist took it into his head -he was going to tackle something easy—nothing like the race problem. -He started in to wipe out the bootleggers 'round here, thinking he -could get a lot of support. But he didn't, because most of the folks -he figgered on lining up with him were regular customers of the -fellows he was after." Ewing chuckled at the memory of the crusade -that had died "aborning." "When the next quarterly conference was -held, they elected a new pastor for the First Methodist. No, Ken, it -ain't so easy as it looks. You're asking me to do something that not -a Southern white man has done since the Civil War⸺" - -Rising, he walked towards the door and remarked: - -"My advice to you is to stay away from any talk like this with -anybody else. There probably ain't another man in town who would've -talked to you like this, and if the boys in the Ku Klux Klan knew I -had been running along like this with a coloured man, I don't know -what'd happen to me. See you later. So long!" - -Kenneth walked up and down the room with his hands stuffed deep into -his pockets, his thoughts rushing through his head in helter-skelter -fashion. He was suddenly conscious of a feeling that he had been -thrust into a tiny boat and forced to embark on a limitless sea, -with neither compass nor chart nor sun nor moon to guide him. Would -he arrive? Or would he go down in some squall which arose from he -knew not where or when? The whole situation seemed so vast, so -sinister, so monstrous, that he shuddered involuntarily, as he had -done as a child when left alone in a dark room at night. Religion, -which had been the guide and stay of his father in like -circumstances, offered him no solace. He thought with a faint smile -of the institution known as the Church. What was it? A vast money -machine, interested in rallies and pastors' days and schemes to milk -more dollars from its communicants. In preparing people to die. He -wasn't interested in what was going to happen to him after death. -What he wanted was some guide and comfort in his present problems. -No, religion and the Church as it was now constituted wasn't the -answer. What was? He could not give it. - -"Here I am," he soliloquized, "with the best education money can -buy. And yet Roy Ewing, who hasn't been any further than high -school, tells me I'd better submit to all this without protest. Yet -he stands for the best there is here in Central City, and I suppose -he represents the most liberal thought of the South. How's it all -going to end? Even a rat will fight when he's cornered, and these -coloured people aren't going to stand for these things all the time. -What can I do? God, there isn't anything—anything I can do? Bob is -right! Something must be done, but what is it? I reckon these white -folks must be blind—or else they figure on leaving whatever solution -there may be to their children, hoping the storm doesn't break while -they are liv. ing. No! That isn't it. They think because they've -been able to get away with it thus far, they'll always be able to -get away with it. Oh, God, I'm helpless! I'm helpless!" - -Kenneth had begun to comprehend the delicate position a Negro always -occupies in places like Central City—in fact, throughout the South. -So little had he come into contact with the perplexities of the race -question before he went away to school, he had seen little of the -windings and turnings, the tortuous paths the Negro must follow to -avoid giving offence to the dominant white sentiment. As he saw each -day more and more of the evasions, the repressions, the choking back -of natural impulses the Negro practised to avoid trouble, Kenneth -often thought of the coloured man as a chip of wood floating on the -surface of a choppy sea, tossed this way and that by every wind that -blew upon the waters. He must of necessity be constantly on his -guard when talking with his white neighbours, or with any white men -in the South, to keep from uttering some word, some phrase which, -like a seed dropped and forgotten, lies fallow for a time in the -brain of the one to whom he talks, but later blossoms forth into -that noxious death-dealing plant which is the mob. Innocent enough -of guile or malice that word may be, yet he must be careful lest it -be distorted and magnified until it can be the cause of violence to -himself and his people. Often—very often—it is true that no evil -follows. Yet the possibility that it may come must always be -considered. But one factor is fixed and immutable the more -intelligent and prosperous the Negro and the more ignorant and poor -the white man, the graver the danger, for in the mind of the latter -are jealousy and ignorance and stupidity and abject fear of the -educated and successful Negro. - -His talk with Ewing had crystallized the thoughts, half developed, -which his observations since his return had planted in his mind. -Kenneth began to see how involved the whole question really was, he -was seeing dim paths of expediency and opportunism he would be -forced to tread if he expected to reach the goal he had set for -himself. Already he found one of his pet ideas to be of doubtful -value the theory he had had that success would give a Negro immunity -from persecution. Like a scroll slowly unwinding before his eyes, -Kenneth saw, as yet only partially, that instead of freeing him from -danger of the mob, too great prosperity would make him and every -other Negro outstanding targets of the wrath and envy of the poorer -whites—that jealousy which "is cruel as the grave." Oh, well, he -reflected, others had avoided trouble and so could he. He would have -to be exceedingly careful to avoid too great display, and at the -same time cultivate the goodwill of those men like Roy Ewing and -Judge Stevenson who would stand by him if there was need. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - -KENNETH was roused by a light tap upon the door. Opening it, Mamie -stood on the threshold. Inquiring whether Kenneth had finished his -work, and on being told he had, she entered. "Kenneth, why do you -spend all your time here in the office? Don't you think mamma and I -want to talk with you occasionally?" - -Mamie seated herself on the arm of Kenneth's chair. - -"Seems like you're becoming a regular hermit since you've been back. -Come on in the parlour—Jane Phillips is in there and she wants to -see you. Remember her?" - -Kenneth smiled. "Remember Jane Phillips? Of course I do. Scrawny -little thing—running all to legs and arms. She was a homely little -brat, wasn't she?" - -It was now Mamie's turn to smile. - -"I'm going to tell her what you said," she threatened. "She's lots -different from the girl you remember." - -They went into the parlour. - -Jane Phillips stood by the piano. She turned as Kenneth and Mamie -entered the room, and came towards them, a smile on her face. -Kenneth, as he advanced towards her, was frankly amazed at the -transformation in the girl whom he had not seen for nine years. Jane -laughed. - -"Don't you know me, Kenneth? Or must I call you Dr. Harper now?" - -"No, my name is still Kenneth⸺" he answered. - -"Tell Jane what you called her a few minutes ago, or I will," -interrupted Mamie. Kenneth looked embarrassed. Jane insisted on -being told, whereupon Mamie repeated Kenneth's description of Jane -as a child. - -Caught between the upper and nether millstones of the raillery of -the two girls, Kenneth tried to explain away his embarrassment, but -they gave him no peace. - -"Let me explain," he begged. "When I went away you were a scrawny -little thing, a regular tomboy and as mischievous as they make them. -And now you're a—you're—you're" Jane laughed at his attempt, -somewhat lacking in fullness, to say what she had become with the -passage of the years. - -"Whatever it is you are trying to say, I hope it's something all -right you are calling me—though from your tone I'm not at all sure," -she ended, letting a note of mock concern creep in her voice. - -By this time Kenneth had somewhat recovered his composure. He -entered into the spirit of play himself by telling her his surprise -had been due to his finding her unchanged from the little girl he -had once known, but Jane laughed at his ineffectual efforts to -answer Mamie's and her teasing. To change the conversation, he -demanded that she tell him all that she had been doing since he saw -her last. - -"There isn't much to tell," she declared. "I went away soon after -you did, going to Fisk University, graduated last June, got a -position teaching in North Carolina, and am home for the holidays. -Next year I want to have enough money to go to Oberlin and finish my -music. That's all there is to my little story. You are the one who -has been having all sorts of experiences. I want to hear your -story." - -"Mine isn't much longer," answered Kenneth. "Four years of medical -school. A year's interneship in New York at Bellevue. Three months -in training camps. A year and a half in France. Six months at the -Sorbonne. Then New York. Then exams at Atlanta for my licence. Home. -And here I am." - -"Don't you believe him, Jane," said Mamie. - -"That's just his way of telling it. Ken has had all sorts of -exciting experiences, yet he has come home and we can't get him to -talk about a thing except building a practice and a hospital." - -"What do you want me to talk about?" asked Kenneth. - -"Paris—school—army life what did you see?—how do you like New -York?—is New York as good a place to live in as Paris?" - -Kenneth threw up his hands in mock defence at the barrage of -questions Jane and Mamie fired at him. - -"Just a minute—just a minute," he begged them. "I could talk all -night on any one of the questions you've asked and then not finish -with it or tell you more than half. If you two will only be quiet, -I'll tell you as much as I can." - -Mrs. Harper, hearing the voices, came into the room. The three women -sat in silence as Kenneth told of his years at school, of his stay -in New York, his experiences in the army, of the beauties of Paris -even in war time, of study at a French university. He gave to the -narrative a vividness and air of reality that made his auditors see -through his eyes the scenes and experiences he was describing. -Though none of them had been in France, he made them feel as though -they too were walking through the Place de la Concorde viewing the -statues to the eight great cities of France or shopping in the Rue -de la Paix or attempting to order dinner in a restaurant with an -all-too-inadequate French vocabulary. He finished. - -"Now you've got to sing for me, Jane, as a reward for all the -talking I've been doing." - -With the usual feminine protests that she had no music with her, -Jane went to the open piano. She inquired what he would like to have -her sing. - -"Anything except the ‘Memphis Blues,' which is all I've heard since -I came back to Central City," he answered. - -Jane ran over the keys experimentally, improvising. A floor lamp -stood near the piano casting a soft light over her. Her long, -delicately pointed fingers lingered lovingly on the ivory keys, and -then she played the opening bars of Saint-Saën's "My Heart at Thy -Sweet Voice." Her voice, a rounded, rich contralto, showing -considerable training, gave to the song a tender pathos, a yearning, -a promise of deep and understanding love. She sang with a grace and -clear phrasing that bespoke the simple charm of the singer. Kenneth -gazed at her in wonder at the amazing metamorphosis of the shy, -gawky child Jane whom he had only rarely noticed, and then with the -condescending air of twenty looking at twelve. In her stead had come -a woman, rounded, attractive even beautiful, intelligent, and -altogether desirable. The chrysalis had changed to the gorgeously -coloured butterfly. Her skin was a soft brown—almost bronze. He -thought of velvety pansies richly coloured—of the warmth of rubies -of great price of the lustrous beauty of the sky on a spring -evening. Her eyes shone with a sparkling and provocative clearness, -looking straight at one from their brown depths. Little tendrils of -her black hair at the back of her neck were disturbed every now and -then by the breeze from the open windows, while above were piled -masses of coiled blackness that shone in the dim light with a glossy -lustre. To Kenneth came visions of a soft-eyed _señorita_ in an old -Spanish town leaning from her balcony while below, to the -accompaniment of a muted guitar, her lover sang to her of his ardent -love. Kenneth blushed when he realized that in every picture he had -cast himself for the rôle of gallant troubadour. - -His mother had quietly slipped from the room to retire for the -evening. Mamie had gone to prepare something cool for them to drink. -Kenneth had not heard them go. In fact, lost in the momentary -forgetfulness created by Jane and the song, he had completely -forgotten them. He did not, however, fail to realize that the dreams -he was having were in large measure due to the soft light, to -surprise at the great changes in Jane, to the lulling seductiveness -of the music. He was sure that his feeling was due in largest -measure to a reaction from his unpleasant conversation with Roy -Ewing. He vaguely realized that when on the morrow he saw Jane by -daylight, she would not seem half so charming and attractive. Yet he -was of such a temperament that he could give himself up to the spell -of the moment and extract from it all the pleasure in it. It was in -that manner he put aside the things which were unpleasant, enabling -him to shake off memories like mists of the morning ascending from -the depths of a valley. - -The song was ended. Herself caught in its spell, Jane swung into -that most beautiful of the Negro spirituals, "Deep River." Into it -she poured her soul. She filled the room with the pathos of that -song born in the dark days of slavery of a people torn from their -home and thrust into the thraldom of human bondage. - -And then Jane sang "Nobody Knows the Trouble I've Seen." The song -ended, her fingers yet clung to the keys but her hands hung -listless. Kenneth knew not how or when he had risen from his chair -and gone to the piano where he stood behind Jane. Something deep -within them had been touched by the music—a strange thrill filled -them, making them oblivious to everything except the presence of -each other. Kenneth lightly placed his hands on her shoulders. -Without speaking or turning, she placed her hands for a moment on -his. He bent over her while she raised her face to his, her eyes -misty with tears born of the emotion aroused by the song. Though -often laughed at in real life and often distorted in fiction, love -almost at first sight had been born within them. Kenneth slowly -brought her face nearer his while Jane, with parted lips, let the -back of her head rest against his breast. Love, with its strange -retroactive effects, brought to both of them in that moment the -sudden realization, though neither of them had known it, that they -had always loved each other. Not a word had been spoken—each was -busy constructing his love in silence. A great emptiness in their -lives had been suddenly, miraculously filled. - -Their lips were almost touching when a noise brought them to -themselves with a shock. It was Mamie. She entered the room bearing -a tray on which were sandwiches, cakes, and tall glasses in which -cracked ice clinked coolingly. Kenneth hid his annoyance and, with -as nonchalant an air as possible, went back to his chair. - -When they had eaten, Jane rose to go. Kenneth walked home with her. -Neither spoke until they had reached her gate. Jane entered as -Kenneth held it open for her. He would have followed her in but she -turned, extended her hand to him as a sign of dismissal, and asked -him to leave her there. Kenneth said nothing, but his face showed -his disappointment at being hastened away by the same girl who less -than half an hour before had almost been in his arms. - -"Please don't say anything, Ken," she pleaded. "It was my fault—I -shouldn't have done what I did. I used to worship you when I was -little, but I thought I had gotten over that—until to-night." - -Her voice sank almost to a whisper. In it was a note of trouble and -perplexity. She went on: - -"I—oh, Kenneth—what happened to-night must not be repeated." - -Puzzled and a bit hurt, he asked her what she meant. - -"Don't get the wrong idea, Ken. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you -for the world." - -"But what is it, Jane?" begged Kenneth. "I love you, Jane, have -always loved you. I was blind—until to-night⸺" - -Kenneth poured forth the words in a torrent of emotion. Whirling -thoughts tore through his brain. He sought to seize Jane's hand and -draw her to him, but she eluded him. - -"No—no—Kenneth, you mustn't. I can't let you make love to me. Let's -be friends, Ken, and enjoy these few days and forget all we've said -to-night, won't you, please?" she ended pleadingly. - -Kenneth said nothing. He turned abruptly and strode away without -even saying good night. Hands thrust deep into his pockets, his head -hanging in disappointment and wounded pride, he hurried home without -once turning to look back. … - -Her ten days of vacation passed all too soon for Jane. She and -Kenneth saw each other frequently, but never alone until the night -before she returned to North Carolina. It was at a dance given in -her honour. All evening he had been seeking a dance with her, but -met with no success until the party was almost over. They danced in -silence. Jane seemed suddenly sad. All evening she had been happy, -gay, even flirtatious, but now that she was with Kenneth, her gaiety -had been dropped like a mask. Half-way through the dance they came -near a door that opened on a balcony overlooking a flower garden. -Saying nothing to Jane, Kenneth danced her through the door and on -to the balcony, where they sat on a bench that stood in the -semi-darkness. Though it was December, the air was warm. No sound -disturbed the silence of the night save the music and voices which -floated through the open door. - -"Haven't you anything to say?" Kenneth anxiously inquired, taking -one of Jane's hands in his. - -"Nothing except this—I don't know whether I care for you or not," -said Jane as she freed her hand and drew herself away. Her voice was -firm and determined. Kenneth, ignorant of the ways of a maid with a -man, said nothing, but his shoulders drooped dejectedly. - -"What happened the other night was madness—I was very foolish for -allowing it." She paused, and then went on. "Kenneth, I don't know, -I want my music, I want to see something of life I want to live! I -just can't tie myself down by marrying—I don't know whether I'll -ever want to. You'll have to wait—if you care to⸺" - -It was half command, half question. He said nothing. - -He did not know how she longed for him to argue with her, override -her objections, convince her against her will. She waited a full -minute. Still he sat there silent. She rose and re-entered the -house, leaving him there alone. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - -LIFE moved along evenly with Kenneth, busied with the multitude of -duties with which the physician in the half-rural, half-urban towns -of the South must deal. His days were filled with his blasto work -and he was usually to be found in his office until ten or eleven -o'clock every evening. Often he was roused in the middle of the -night to attend some one of his patients. He did not mind this -except when calls came to him from the outlying country districts. -Not infrequently he made long trips of seven, eight, or ten miles -into the country to treat some person who might just as well have -called him during the previous day. He had purchased a Ford runabout -in which he made these trips. - -On a Sunday morning soon after his return to Central City, Kenneth -with his mother, Mamie, and Bob attended the Mount Zion Baptist -Church, but this he did without much eagerness, solely as a duty. - -Though years had passed since last he entered the church, Kenneth -noticed that it stood as it always had, save that it looked more -down-at-heel than formerly. Before the door stood the same little -groups, eagerly snatching a few words of conversation before -entering. Near the door were ranged the young men, garbed in raiment -of varied and brilliant hue, ogling the girls as they passed in with -their parents. There was much good-natured badinage and scuffling -among the youths, with an occasional burst of ribald laughter at the -momentary discomfiture of one of their number. As he passed them, -Kenneth smiled to himself as he remembered how he but a few years -since had been one of that crowd around the same door. That is, one -of the crowd until his father, with a stern word or perhaps only a -meaningful glance, had been wont to summon him within the church. -Often had he been teased unmercifully by the other boys when one of -these summonses had come. - -Though the jests had been hard to bear, the likelihood of paternal -wrath had been too unpleasant an alternative for him to dare -disregard his father's commands. - -Kenneth noticed the vestibule had survived the passage of years -without apparent change, if one disregarded the increased dinginess -of the carpet. There was the same glass-covered bulletin board with -its list of the sick and of those who were delinquent in the payment -of their dues. There was the same dangling rope with a loop at the -end of it, and the same sexton was about to ring the bell above, -announcing the beginning of the morning service. There were the same -yellowed walls, the same leather-covered swinging doors with the -same greasy spots where countless hands had pushed them to enter the -auditorium of the church. Kenneth smiled to himself as he remembered -how he once had declared in a dispute with a boy whose parents -attended the Methodist church near by that the Mount Zion Baptist -Church was "the biggest and finest church in the whole world." He -thought of the Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, of St. Paul's in -London, as he recalled the boast of his youth. - -Inside, the same air of unchanging permanence seemed also to have -ruled. As he followed the officious usher and his mother and sister -to their pew, Kenneth noted the same rows of hard seats worn shiny -by years of use, the same choir loft to the left of the pulpit with -its faded red curtains. The same worn Bible lay open on the pulpit -kept open by a hymn-book. Beside it was the same ornately carved -silver pitcher and goblet. Kenneth felt as though he had never left -Central City when he looked for and found the patches of calcimine -hanging from the ceiling and the yellowed marks on the walls made by -water dripping from leaks in the roof. As a boy he had amused -himself during seemingly interminable sermons by constructing all -sorts of fanciful stories around these same marks, seeing in them -weirdly shaped animals. Once he had laughed aloud when, after gazing -at one of them, it had suddenly dawned upon him that the shadow cast -by a pendent flake of calcimine resembled the lean and -hungry-looking preacher who was pastoring Mount Zion at the time. -Kenneth would never forget the commotion his sudden laughter had -caused, nor the whipping he received when he and his father reached -home that Sunday. - -The hum of conversation ceased. The pastor, the Reverend Ezekiel -Wilson, entered the pulpit from a little door back of it. The choir -sang lustily the Doxology. All the familiar services came back to -Kenneth as he sat and looked at the dusky faces around him. - -Preliminaries ended, the Reverend Wilson began to preach. He was a -fat, pompous, oily man—with a smooth and unctuous manner. His voice -sank at times to a whisper—at others, roared until the rafters of -the building seemed to ring with its echoes. He played on it as -consciously as the dried-up little organist in the gaily coloured -bonnet did on the keys of the asthmatic little organ. His text was -taken from the 13th chapter of First Corinthians, first verse that -familiar text, "Though I speak with the tongues of men and of -angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a -tinkling cymbal." - -Slowly, softly, he began to speak. - -"Breddern and sisters, they's a lot of you folks right here this -mawnin' what thinks you is Christ'uns. You think jus' ‘cause you -comes here ev'ry Sunday and sings and shouts and rants around dat -you is got the sperit of Jesus in you. Well, I'm tellin' you this -mawnin' dat you'd better wake up and get yo'self right with God, -'cause you ain't no mo Christ'un dan if you neveh been to chu'ch -a-tall. De Good Book says you got to have char'ty, and de Good Book -don't lie." - -There came from the Amen corner a fervently shouted "Amen!" From -another came as equally fervid a shout: "Ain't it the truth!" The -preacher paused for effect. He mopped his brow and glared around the -congregation. His auditors sat in expectant silence. Suddenly he -lashed out in scathing arraignment of the sins of his flock. Each -and every one of its faults he pilloried with words of fire and -brimstone. He painted a vivid and uncomfortably realistic picture of -a burning Hell into which all sinners would inevitably be cast. -Almost with the air of a hypnotist, he gradually advanced the tempo -of his speech. Like a wind playing over a field of corn, swaying the -tops of the stalks as it wills, so did he play on the emotions and -fears and passions of his congregation. Only a master of human -psychology could have done it. It was a living, breathing, vengeful -God he preached, and his auditors fearfully swayed and rocked to and -fro as he lashed them unmercifully. Lips compressed, there came from -them a nasal confirmation of the preacher's words that ranged from -deep, guttural grunts of approval as he scored a point to a -high-pitched rising and falling moan that sounded like nothing so -much as a child blowing through tissue paper stretched over a comb. -Frequently the preacher would without perceptible pause swing into a -rolling, swinging, half-moaning song which the congregation took up -with fervour. The beat was steadily advanced by the leader until he -and his audience were worked up to an emotional ecstasy bordering on -hysteria. His jeremiad ended, the preacher painted a glowing picture -of the ineffable peace and joy that came to those who rested their -faith in Him who died for the remission of their sins. - -A tumultuous thunderous climax—a dramatic pause and then he swung -into a fervent prayer in which the preacher talked as though his God -were an intimate friend and confidant. The entire drama lasting more -than an hour was thrilling and enervating and theatric. Yet beneath -it lay a devout sincerity that removed the scene from the absurd to -that which bordered on the magnificent. To these humble folk their -religion was the most important thing in their lives, and, after -all, what matters it what a man does? It is the spirit in which he -performs an act that makes it dignified or pathetic or ludicrous—not -the act itself. - -In spite of his sophistication, Kenneth never was able entirely to -ward off the chills of excitement that ran down his spine at these -weird religious ceremonies. He saw through the whole theatric -performance and yet way down beneath it all there was a sincerity -and genuineness that never failed to impress him. This was not a -mere animalism nor was it the joke that white people sometimes tried -to make of it. Fundamentally, it was rooted and grounded in an -immutable and unfailing belief in the supreme power of a tangible -God—a God that personally directed the most minute of the affairs of -the most lowly of creatures. It had been the guide and refuge of the -fathers and mothers of these same people through the dark days of -slavery. In the same manner it was almost the only refuge for these -children and grandchildren of the slaves in withstanding the trials -of a latter-day slavery in many respects more oppressive than the -pre-Civil War variety. - -Kenneth walked home from church running over these things in his -mind. Was this religious fervour the best thing for his people? Why -did not the Church attract more intelligent and able young men of -his race instead of men like Reverend Wilson? Why didn't some -twentieth-century Moses arise to lead them out of the thraldom of -this primitive religion? Would that Moses, when he came, be able to -offer a solace as effective to enable these people of his to bear -the burdens that lay so heavily upon them? - -He thought again of his conversation with Roy Ewing. What was the -elusive solution to this problem of race in America? Why couldn't -the white people of the South see where their course was leading -them? Ewing was right. No white man of the South had ever come out -in complete defiance of the present regime which was so surely -damning the South and America. Kenneth saw his people kept in the -bondage of ignorance. Why? Because it was to the economic advantage -of the white South to have it so. Why was a man like Reverend Wilson -patted on the back and every Negro told that men of his kind were -"safe and sane leaders"? Why was every Negro who too audibly or -visibly resented the brutalities and proscriptions of race prejudice -instantly labelled as a radical—a dangerous character—as one seeking -"social equality"? What was this thing called "social equality" -anyhow? That was an easy question to answer. It was about the only -one he could answer with any completeness. White folks didn't really -believe that Negroes sought to force themselves in places where they -weren't wanted, any more than decent white people wanted to force -themselves where they were not invited. No, that was the -smoke-screen to hide something more sinister. Social equality would -lead to intermarriage, they thought, and the legitimatizing of the -countless half-coloured sons and daughters of these white people. -Why, if every child in the South were a legitimate one, more than -half of the land and property in the South would belong to coloured -owners. - -Did the white people who were always talking about "social equality" -think they really were fooling anybody with their constant -denunciation of it? Twenty-nine States of America had laws against -intermarriage. All these laws were passed by white legislators. Were -these laws passed to keep Negroes from seizing some white woman and -forcing her to marry him against her will? Or were these laws -unconscious admissions by these white men that they didn't trust -their women or their men to keep from marrying Negroes? Any fool -knew that if two people didn't want to marry each other, there was -no law of God or man to make them marry. No, the laws were passed -because white men wanted to have their own women and use coloured -women too without any law interfering with their affairs or making -them responsible for the consequences. - -Kenneth usually ended these arguments with himself with a feeling of -complete impotence, of travelling around like a squirrel in a -circular cage. No matter where he started or how fast or how far he -travelled, he always wound up at the same point and with the same -sense of blind defeat. Oh, well, better men than he had tried to -answer the same questions and failed. He'd stay to himself and -attend to his own business and let such problems go hang. But in -spite of himself he often found himself enmeshed in this endless -maze of reasoning. Just as frequently he determined to put from -himself again the perplexing and seemingly insoluble problems. - -It was after one of these soliloquies on his way from church one -bright Sunday in April that Kenneth reached home and found a call -for him to come at once to a house down on Butler Street, in the -heart of the Negro district in the bottoms. Telling his mother to -keep dinner for him as he would be back shortly, he hurried down -State Street. Turning suddenly into Harris Street, which crossed -State, which in turn would lead him to the house he sought on Butler -Street, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a white man who looked like -George Parker, cashier of the Bank of Central City Parker, if it was -he, turned hastily at Kenneth's approach and went up a narrow alley -which ran off Harris Street. Kenneth thought nothing of the incident -other than a vague and quickly passing wonder at Parker's presence -in that part of town. - -Kenneth hurried on, instinctively stepping over or around the -numerous children whose complexions ranged in colour from a deep -black to a yellow that was almost white, and mangy-looking dogs that -seemed to infest the street. Approaching the house he sought, he -found a group of excitedly talking Negroes gathered around the gate. -The group separated to let him pass, and from it came one or two -greetings to Kenneth in the form of "Hello, Doc." He paid little -attention to them, but proceeded up the path to the house. - -Entering, he was surprised to find it furnished more ornately and -comfortably than usual in that section. He knew the place of old, -remembering that his father had always warned him against going into -this section. Here it was reported that strange things went on, that -a raid by the police was not uncommon. He had upon one occasion seen -the patrol wagon, better known as the "Black Maria," drive away -loaded with bottles of whisky and with a nondescript lot of coloured -men and women. Most of the property in this section was owned by -white people, which they held on to jealously. They charged and -received rentals two or three times as high as in other sections of -"Darktown." - -Kenneth found in the front room another excited and chattering lot -of men and women. The men seemed rather furtive and were dressed in -"peg-top" trousers with wide cuffs, and gaudily coloured shirts. The -women were clad in red and pink kimonos and boudoir caps. With an -inclusive "Hello, folks," Kenneth followed a woman who seemed to be -in charge of the house into the next room. In the centre of the -darkened room there stood the bed, dishevelled, the sheets stained -with blood. On them lay a man fully clothed, his eyes closed as -though in great pain, and breathing heavily, with sharp gasps every -few seconds. By the bed, bathing the man's brow, stood a woman in a -rumpled night-dress and kimono. Kenneth recognized the man as Bud -Ware, sometimes a Pullman porter, who used his occupation, it was -rumoured, to bring liquor from Atlanta, which his wife sold. It was -his wife Nancy who bathed his brow and who moved away from the bed -when Kenneth approached. She informed him that he had come home -unexpectedly from his run, and had been shot. Kenneth said nothing -but went immediately to work. He found Bud with two bullet holes in -his abdomen and one through his right leg. It was evident that he -had but a few hours, at most, to live. Kenneth did what he could to -relieve Bud's suffering. Turning to Nancy, he told her what he had -discovered. She stared at Kenneth wide-eyed for a minute and then -burst forth in an agony of weeping. - -"Oh, Lawdy, why didn't I do what Bud tol' me to do? Bud tol' me to -let dat man alone! Why didn't I do it? Why didn't I do it?" - -Her screams mounted higher and higher until they reached -ear-piercing shrieks. A head or two were stuck interrogatively -through the opened door at the sound of Nancy's woe, and as quickly -withdrawn. Kenneth administered an opiate to Bud to relieve his pain -and sat by the bed to do what he could in the short while that life -remained. The sordidness of the whole affair sickened him and he -longed to get away where he could breathe freely. - -Strengthened by the opiate, Bud's eyes flickered and then opened for -a fraction of a minute. He smiled faintly when he recognized -Kenneth. He made several ineffectual attempts to speak, but each -effort resulted only in a gasp of pain. Kenneth ordered him to lie -still. Bud, however, kept trying to speak. Roused by Nancy's -shrieks, he finally managed to gasp out a few words, interrupted by -spasms of pain that shook his whole body. - -"I knows I ain't got long, Doc. Dat's a' right, Nancy, I ain't -blamin' you none. I knows you couldn't he'p it." - -He fell back on the pillow, coughing and writhing in pain. - -"Lif' me a li'l—hiar—on the pillar, Doc. Dat's mo' like—it! Doc—I -ain't been much ‘count. I tol' dat man Parker—to stop foolin' with -my 'oman—but—he keep on—comin' here—when I'm gone. He knew I wuz -sellin' liquor—an' he tol Nancy he wuz gwine—hav' his brudder—She'f -Parker put me on—chain gang—if she tell me he come here—w'en I wuz -gone." - -He had another paroxysm of coughing and lay for a minute as though -already dead. Kenneth administered restoratives, meanwhile telling -Nancy to keep quiet, which only made her weep the louder. After a -few minutes Bud began speaking again. - -"I come home to-day—an' kotched him here. W'en I got mad an' tol -him—to get out—and stahted towards him—he grabbed his gun an'—shot -me." After a pause: "Doc, whyn't dese white fo'ks—leave our women -alone?—I ain't nevah bothered none of their women.—An' now—I's done -got—killed jus' 'cause—I—I⸺" - -He half raised himself on the pillow, looking at Nancy. - -"Doan cry, Nancy gal—doan cry⸺" - -He fell back dead. Kenneth, of no further assistance, left Nancy to -her grief after promising to send the undertaker in to prepare Bud's -body for burial, and made his way out through the crowd, now greatly -increased in numbers, gathered around the door. He wondered if -anything would be done about the murder, at the same time knowing -that nothing would. The South says it believes in purity. What was -that phrase the Ku Kluxers used so much—"preservation of the -sanctity of the home, protection of the purity of womanhood"? Yes, -that was it. Suppose the races of the two principals had been -reversed—that Bud Ware had been caught with George Parker's wife. -Why, the whole town would have turned out to burn Bud at the stake. -Weren't coloured women considered human—wasn't their virtue as dear -to them as to white women? Nancy and Bud weren't of much good to the -community but if Bud wanted his wife kept inviolate, hadn't he as -much right to guard her person as George Parker to protect his wife -and two daughters? Again he felt himself up against a blind wall in -which there was no gate, and which was too high to climb. He had -determined to stay out of reach of the long arms of the octopus they -called the race problem—but he felt himself slowly being drawn into -its insidious embrace. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - -CENTRAL CITY was the county seat of Smith County. The morning after -the murder of Bud Ware, Kenneth went down to the County Court House -to file his report on the death. It was a two-story building, -originally of red brick but now of a faded brownish red through the -rains and sun of many years. It sat back from the street about fifty -feet and was surrounded by a yard covered here and there with bits -of grass but for the most part clear of all vegetation, its red soil -trampled by many feet on "co't day." The steps were worn thin -through much wear of heavy boots. On either side of the small -landing at the top, there hung a bulletin board on which were pasted -or tacked yellow notices of sheriff's sales, rewards for the arrest -of criminals, and other court documents. The floor of the dark and -narrow hallway was stained a reddish colour by the mud and dust from -the feet of those who had entered the building. Just inside the -doorway, on either side, were rectangular boxes filled with sawdust -for the convenience of those of a tobacco-chewing disposition, which -included most of the male population. The condition of the floor -around the boxes seemed to indicate that only a few of these had -realized for what purpose the boxes had been placed there. Over all -was a liberal coating of the dust that had blown in the door and -windows. - -Entering the office of the County Health Commissioner, Kenneth found -that dignitary in his shirtsleeves, feet comfortably placed on top -of his desk. - -"Good morning, Mr. Lane. I've come to make a report of a death." - -At the sound of Kenneth's voice, County Commissioner of Health Henry -Lane turned in his chair without moving his feet to see who it was -that had entered. Long, lanky, a two days' growth of red beard on -his face, Mr. Lane removed the corn-cob pipe from his mouth with a -rising and falling of a prominent Adam's apple. Seeing that his -visitor was only a Negro, he replaced his pipe in his mouth and, -between several jerky puffs to get it going again, querulously -replied: - -"Can't you see I'm busy? Why don't you save up them repo'ts till you -git a passel of them, and then bring ‘em in? Got no time t' be -writin' up niggers' deaths, anyhow. Ev'ry time I turn ‘round, some -nigger's gittin' carved up or shot or somepin'.". - -"I understand it's the law, Mr. Lane, that deaths of anybody, white -or coloured, must be reported by the physician at once." - -"Drat the law. That's fo' white folks." - -He drew himself out of his chair with great reluctance and ambled -over to the counter, drawing to him a pad and pencil as he turned -towards Kenneth. - -"What nigger's dead now?" he inquired. - -"Bud Ware, who lived at 79 Butler Street," replied Kenneth. - -"How'd he die?" was the next question. - -"Shot through the abdomen." - -"Know who shot him?" - -"Yes. George Parker." - -"Th' hell you say! And you come in here to repo't it?" - -Kenneth was somewhat startled at the ferocity of the Commissioner's -expression, which had replaced that of laziness and resentment at -being disturbed. "I thought it my duty …" he began. - -Lane spat disgustedly. - -"Duty, Hell! You're a God-damned fool and one of these damned -niggers that's always causin' trouble ‘round here. I always said -eddication spoiled a nigger and, by God, you prove it. Lemme tell -you somepin'—you'd better remember s'long's you stay ‘round these -parts. When you hear anything 'bout a white man havin' trouble with -a nigger, you'd better keep your mouth shet. They's lots of niggers -been lynched for less'n you said this mornin'. Ain't you got sense -enough t' know you hadn't any business comin' in here t' tell me -‘bout Mr. Parker? Don't you know his brother's sheriff? If y' aint, -goin' up No'th tuk away what li'l' sense you might've had befo' you -went." - -Kenneth stood silent, a deep red flush suffusing his face, while the -official continued his vituperative tirade. His fists, thrust deep -into his pockets, were Elenched until they hurt, but he did not feel -the pain. He longed to take that long, yellow, unshaven neck in his -hands and twist it until Lane's eyes popped out and his face turned -black. He knew it would be suicide if he did it. He realized now -that he had done an unwise thing in telling Lane who had killed Bud -Ware—he should have remembered and said that he did not know. If he -was going to stay in the South, he would have to remember these -things. - -When Lane had paused for breath, Kenneth bade him good morning and -left the room. As he went down the steps, he heard Lane shouting -after him: - -"You'd better not lemme hear o'you doin' any talkin' ‘bout this. If -y' do, you'll fin' yo'self bein' paid a visit one o' these nights by -the Kluxers!" - -Hardly had Kenneth left the court house before Lane rushed as fast -as his natural indolence would permit him into the office of Sheriff -Robert Parker—known throughout the county as "She'f Bob." Lane was -so indignant he spluttered in trying to speak. The sheriff looked at -him amusedly and counselled: - -"Ca'm yo'self, Henry. What's eatin' you?" - -"Bob, d'you know George shot and killed a nigger buck over in -‘Darktown' yestiddy mornin' named Ware?" Lane finally managed to get -out. - -"Yeh. What about it? George tol me about it las' night," was the -sheriff's easy reply. - -"Well, that nigger doctor Harper who's been up No'th studyin' and -come back here las' fall, come into my office this mornin' to repo't -it, and he had the gall t' tell me George done it." - -"Th' black bastard! What th' hell's he got to do with it?" - -"Said it was his duty. You bet I tol him good an' plenty where he -got off at. Guess he won't come in here repo'tin' no more -‘accidents' like George run into." - -Sheriff Parker's face had assumed the colour of an overripe tomato -as he jumped to his feet and banged his right fist on the table with -a resounding thwack. - -"I'll keep my eye on that nigger," he promised. "His daddy was as -good a nigger as ever I did see, but they ain't no way o'tellin' -what these young bucks'll do. Roy Ewing was saying only this mornin' -that Bob, that nigger doctor's kid brother, was tellin' him the -other day that he'd have to stop them boys ‘roun' the sto' from -botherin' with th' nigger gals when they pass by. Humph! They ain't -no nigger gal that's pure after she's reached fo'teen years ol'. -Yep, I'll jus' kep my eye on those boys, and the first chance I git, -I'll⸺!" - -His eyes narrowed in malevolent fashion as he left his threat -unuttered. - -In the meantime, Kenneth had gone home. He hesitated to talk the -matter over with Bob or tell him what had happened to Bud Ware or -what had taken place at the court house that morning. Bob was so -hot-headed and insults made him angry so easily, he was afraid of -what might be the outcome if Bob knew what had occurred. He would -breathe a deep sigh of relief when Bob left in the fall to go back -to er school. Up in Atlanta there wouldn't be so many chances for -Bob to run up against these white people and, besides, Bob's studies -would keep him busy, leaving little time to brood over the -indignities he had suffered. Kenneth determined that when Bob had -finished his course at Atlanta University, he would urge him to go -to Columbia University or Haryard and study law, and then settle -down in some Northern city. It wouldn't do for Bob to come back as -he had done to Central City. Sooner or later Bob's fiery temper -would give way. - -He wondered to whom he could turn to talk this thing out. He felt -that if he didn't have a chance soon to unburden his soul to -somebody, he would go insane. He thought of his mother. No, that -wouldn't do. His mother had enough to worry about without taking his -burdens on her shoulders. - -Mamie? No, she wouldn't do either. She had no business knowing about -the sordidness of the affair of Bud Ware and Nancy and George -Parker. All her life she had been sheltered and kept away, as much -as is possible in a Southern town, from the viciousness and filth -and brutality of the race relations of the town. - -Mr. Wilson, the clergyman? He was ignorant and coarse, but he had -lived in South Georgia all his life and he would know better what to -do than anybody else. He determined to go and talk with Mr. Wilson -that evening as soon as he was free. He had hardly made the decision -when Mr. Wilson non himself entered the reception room and called -out to Kenneth as he sat in his office: - -"Good mawnin', Brudder Harper. It certainly has done my heart good -to see you attendin' chu'ch ev'ry Sunday with your folks. Mos' of -these young men and women, as soon's they get some learning, thinks -they's too good to ‘tend chu'ch. But, as I says to them all th' -time, th' Lawd ain't goin' t' bless none of them, even if they is -educated, if they don't keep close to Him." - -Kenneth rose and showed his visitor to a seat. He did so with an -inward repugnance as the coarseness of the man repelled him. -Mr. Wilson seemed always overheated even in the coldest weather, and -his face shone with a greasiness that seemed to indicate that his -body excreted oil instead of perspiration. Yet, perhaps this man -could give him some ray of no light, if there was any to be had. - -He told Mr. Wilson of his experiences of the past two days. The -preacher's eyes widened with a mild surprise and the unctuous, -benevolent mask which he wore most of his waking hours seemed to -drop rapidly as he heard Kenneth through to the end without comment. -At the same time he dropped his illiterate speech much to Kenneth's -surprise, when he finally spoke. - -"Dr. Harper, I've been watching you since you came back here. I knew -that you were trying to keep away from this trouble that's always -going on around here. That's just why I came here to-day. Your case -is a hard one, but it's small to what a lot of these others are -feeling. I have asked a number of the more sensible coloured men to -meet at any house to-night. I think it would be a good thing to talk -over these things and try to find a way to avoid any trouble." - -Kenneth looked at him in surprise, not at the idea of holding a -meeting, but at the language the man was using. - -"I hope you'll pardon me for asking so personal a question, Reverend -Wilson, but you don't talk now as I've always heard you before. Why, -your language now is that of an educated man, and before -you—you—talked like a—like a⸺" - -Mr. Wilson laughed easily. - -"There's a reason—in fact, there are two reasons why I talk like -that. The first is because of my own folks. Outside of you and your -folks, the Phil. lips family, and one or two more, all of my -congregation is made up of folks with little or no education. -They've all got good hard common sense, it's true. They'd have to -have that in order just to live in the South with things as they -are. But they don't want a preacher that's too far above them -they'll feel that they can't come to him and tell him their troubles -if he's too highfalutin. I try to get right down to my folks, feel -as they feel, suffer when they suffer, laugh with them when they -laugh, and talk with them in language they can understand." - -Mr. Wilson smiled, almost to himself, as memories of contacts with -his lowly flock came to him. - -"I remember when I first started preaching over at Valdosta. I was -just out of school and was filled up with the ambition to raise my -people out of their ignorance. I was determined I would free them -from a religion that didn't do anything for them but make them shout -and holler on Sunday. I was going to give them some modern religion -based on intelligence instead of just on feeling and emotion." - -He chuckled throatily in recollecting the spiritual and religious -crusade on which he had based such exalted hopes. - -"I preached to them and told them of Aristotle and Shakespeare and -Socrates. One Sunday, after I'd preached what I thought was a mighty -fine sermon, one old woman came up after the services and said to -me: "Brer Wilson, dat's a' right tellin' us ‘bout Shakespeare and -Homer and all dem other boys. But what we want is for you t' tell us -somethin' ‘bout Jesus!'" - -Kenneth laughed with the preacher at the old woman's insistence on -his not straying from the religion to which they were used. - -"I had to discard my high-flown theories and come down to my folks -if I wanted to do any good at all." - -He continued: - -"These same folks, however, don't want you to come down too close. -Like all people with little education, whether they're black, white, -or any other colour, they like to look up to their leaders. So I use -a few big words now and then which have a grand and rolling sound, -and they feel that I am even more wonderful because I do know how to -use big words but don't use them often." - -He paused while Kenneth looked at this man and saw him in a new -light. He had known that Mr. Wilson, many years before coming to -Central City, had attended a theological seminary in Atlanta, and he -had wondered how a man could attend a school of theology of any -standing and yet use such poor English. It had never occurred to him -that it might be deliberate. - -"And then there's another reason," continued Reverend Wilson. "The -white folks here are mighty suspicious of any Negro who has too much -learning, according to their standards. They figure he'll be -stirring up the Negroes to fighting back when any trouble arises. I -had to make a decision many years ago. I decided that somebody had -to help these poor coloured folks bear their burdens, and to comfort -and cheer them. I knew that if I came out and said the things I -thought and felt, I would either be taken out of my house some night -and lynched, or else I'd be run out of town. So I decided that I'd -smile and bear it and be what the white folks think they want—what -the coloured folks call a ‘white man's nigger.' It's been mighty -hard, but the Lord has given me the strength somehow or other to -stand it this far." - -With his deliberately imperfect English, there had gone from the -preacher's face the subservient smile. Kenneth felt his heart -warming to this man. He found his feeling of distaste and repulsion -dissipating, now that the shell had been removed and he saw beneath -the surface. The simile of the protective device of the chameleon -came to his mind. Yes, the Negro in the South had many things in -common with the chameleon—he had to be able to change his colour -figuratively to suit the environment of the South in order to be -allowed to stay alive. His own trouble with the Parkers and Lane -seemed much more trivial now than before. He looked at Mr. Wilson -and asked: - -"What's the purpose of this meeting to-night? How can I help, -Reverend Wilson?" - -"It's like this. A good part of my congregation is made up of folks -who live out in the country. They've had a lot of trouble for years -getting honest settlements from the landlords on whose land they -work. Within the last five years, two of my members have been -lynched when they wouldn't stand for being cheated any longer. The -folks out there are in a pretty bad way, and they want us to advise -with them as to the best way to act. I haven't time to go into the -details now, but it'll all be taken up to-night. Can I count on your -being there? We need a man like you, with your education." - -Kenneth deliberated several minutes before giving his answer. What -Mr. Wilson wanted him to do was just exactly what he had determined -not to do. But what harm could come from attending the meeting? If -he didn't want to take any part in the plans, he didn't have to. -Anyhow, it seemed that the more a man tried to keep away from the -race question, the mo more deeply involved he became in it. Might as -well do what little he could to help, if he didn't have to take too -prominent a part. He'd go anyway. He told Reverend Wilson they could -look for him that night. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - -KENNETH was late in reaching the meeting-place that night. When he -arrived he found all there waiting for him. Besides himself and -Mr. Wilson were the Reverend Richard Young, pastor of Bethel African -Methodist Episcopal Church, and Herbert Phillips, Jane's father. -There were also three men from the farming district whom Kenneth did -not know, but who were introduced as Tom Tracy, Hiram Tucker, and -James Swann. - -Mr. Wilson opened the meeting after the introductions had been -completed. - -"Brothers, we've met here this evenin' to talk over some way we can -he'p these brothers who live out in the country and who ain't been -able to get an honest settlement from the folks they's been farmin' -for. I'm going to ask Brother Tucker to tell us just how things are -with the folks out his way. Brother Tucker." - -"Brother" Tucker rose and stood by the table around which they were -seated and on which flickered an oil lamp. He was a man between -fifty and sixty years of age, of medium height and thick-set. His -black skin was wrinkled with age and toil. His hands, as they rested -on the table in front of him, were gnarled and hardened through a -lifetime of ploughing and hoeing and the other hard work of farm -life. It was Mr. Tucker's face, however, which attracted interest. -Out of the rolls of skin there shone two kindly, docile eyes. One -gained the impression that these eyes had seen tragedies on top of -tragedies, as indeed they had, and their owner had been taught by -dire necessity to look upon them in a philosophic and pacifist -manner. One remembered a biblical description: "He was a man of -sorrows and acquainted with grief." Kenneth, as he looked at him, -felt that Socrates and Aristotle and Jesus Christ must have had eyes -like Brother Tucker's. His impression was heightened by Mr. Tucker's -hair. Of a snowy whiteness, his head bald on top, his hair formed a -circle around his head that reminded Kenneth of the picture-cards -used at Sunday school when he was a boy, where the saints had crowns -of light hovering over their heads. The only difference was that -Mr. Tucker's halo seemed to be a bit more firmly and closely -attached than those of the saints, which he remembered always seemed -to be poised perilously in mid-air. He had often wondered, as he -gazed intently at the pictures, what would have happened had a -strong gust of wind come suddenly upon the saints, and blown their -haloes away. - -Mr. Tucker began speaking slowly, in the manner of one of few words -and as one unused to talking in public. - -"Brudders, me ‘n' Brudder Tracy, and Brudder Swann ast Reverend -Wilson here to let us come t' town some time and talk over with you -gent'men a li'l' trouble we's been havin'. Y' see, all of us folks -out dat way wuks on shares like dis. We makes a ‘greement wif de -landlord to wuk one year or mo'. He fu'nishes de lan' and we puts de -crap in de soil, wuks it, and den gathers it. We's sposed to ‘vide -it share and share alike wif de landlord but it doan wuk out dat -way. If us cullud folks ain't got money enough to buy our seed and -fert'lizer and food and the clo'es we needs du'in' de year, we is -allowed t' take up dese things at de sto'. Den when we goes to -settle up after de cott'n and cawn's done laid by, de sto' man who -wuks in wif de landlord won't giv' us no bill for whut we done -bought but jes' gives us a li'l piece of paper wif de words on it: -"Balance Due." - -He paused to wipe the perspiration from his face caused by the -unusual experience of speaking at such length. He continued: - -"An' dat ain't all. W'en we starts to pickin' our cotton, dey doan -let us ca'y it to de gin and weigh it ourself. De lan'lord send his -wagons down in de fiel' and as fas' as we picks it, dey loads it on -de wagons and takes it away. Dey doan let us know how much it weighs -or how much dey sells it for. Dey jus' tells us it weighs any ‘mount -de lan'lord wants to tell us, and dey says dey sol' it at any price -dey set. W'en we comes to settle up for de year, dey ‘ducts de -balance due' from what we's got comin' t'us from our share of de -craps. I's been wukin' for nigh on to six years for Mr. Taylor out -near Ashland and ev'y year I goes deeper in debt dan de year befo'. -Las' year I raised mo' dan twenty-fo' bales of cott'n dat weighed -mo' dan five hundred poun's each. My boy Tom whut's been t' school -figgered out dat at eighten cents a poun'—and dat's de price de -paper said cott'n sol' at las' year—I oughter got mo' dan a thousan' -dollars for my share. An' dat ain't all neither. Dey was nearly -twelve tons of cott'n seed dat was wuth ‘bout two hundred and fo'ty -dollars. An'den dey was mo' dan three hundred bush'ls of cawn at a -dollar'n a ha'f a bush'l dat makes fo' hundred and fifty dollars -mo'. All dat t'gether makes nearly three thousan' dollars an' I -oughter got ‘bout fifteen hundred dollars fo' my share." - -Tucker stopped again and shifted his feet while Tracy and Swann -nodded agreement with his statements. - -"Las' year me ‘n' my wife said we wuz gwine t' get along without -spendin' no mo' money at de sto' dan we had to, so's we could get -out of debt. We wukked ha'd and all our chillen we made wuk in de -fiel's too. My boy Tom kept account of ev'ything we bought at de -sto', and when de year ended he figgered it up an' he foun' we'd -done spent jus' even fo' hundred dollars. But when we goes to make a -settlement at de end of de year, Mr. Taylor said he sol our cott'n -at eight cent a poun' and didn'have but sev'n hundred and -thutty-five dollars comin' to us. An' den he claim we tuk up ‘leven -hundred dollars wuth of stuff at de sto' which he done paid for, so -that leave me owin' him three hundred ‘n' sixty-five dollars dat I -got to wuk out next year." - -His face took on a dejected look as though the load had become -almost too heavy to bear. His voice took on at the same time a -plaintive and discouraged tone. - -"An' when you adds on dat three hundred dollars dat Mr. Taylor says -I owed him from las' year, dat makes neah'ly sev'n hundred dollars I -owes, and it doan look like I's evah goin't git out of debt. An' I -thought we wuz goin' to be able to sen' Tom and Sally and Mirandy t' -Tuskegee dis year off de ‘leven hundred dollars I thought I wuz -gwine t' make." - -The discouraged air changed to one of greater courage and -determination. His voice rose in his resentment and excitement. - -"Now I's tiahed of all dis cheatin' an' lyin'! Mr. Taylor mus' take -me for a fool if he thinks I'm gwine stan' for dis way of doin' -things all de time. I stahted to tell him dat I knew he wuz cheatin' -me in Janua'y w'en he give me dat statemen', but den I ‘membered -whut happen t' Joe Todd two years ago w'en he tol' dat ol' man -Stanton dat he wukked for, de same thing. W'en ol' man stahted thit -Joe, Joe hit him fust and run. Dey came one night and call Joe to -his do' and tuk him down in de swamp an' de nex' mawnin' dey foun' -Joe full of bullets, hangin' to a tree. De paper say Joe done spoke -insultin' to a white ‘oman, but all de cullud folks, an' de white -too, know dat Joe ain't nevah even seen no white 'oman dat day. Dey -knew dat if dey say he ‘sulted a white 'oman, de folks up Nawth -won't crit'cize dem for lynchin' a nigger down here in Georgy. So I -jus' kep' my mouth close'. Now we wants t' know if dey ain't -somethin' we c'n do t' make dese white folks we wuks for stop -cheatin' an' robbin' us po' cullud folks." - -He sat down, evidently greatly relieved at finishing a task so -arduous. Kenneth had listened in amazement to the story of -exploitation, crudely told, yet with a simplicity that was -convincing and eloquent. Having lived in the South all his life, he -naturally was not unaware of the abuses under the "share-cropping" -or "tenant-farming" system in the South, but it had never been -brought home to him so forcefully how close at hand and how -oppressive and dishonest the system really was. No wonder the South -lynched, disfranchised, Jim-Crowed the Negro, he reflected. If the -Negro had a yote and a voice in the local government of affairs, -most of these bankers and merchants and landowners would have to go -to work for the first time in their lives instead of waxing fat on -the toil of humble Negroes like Hiram Tucker. He turned to Tucker to -get further information on the system. - -"Mr. Tucker, have you and the other folks like you ever thought of -trying to get loans from the Federal Government through the banks -they have established to aid farmers in buying land and raising -their crops?" - -"Oh, yes, Doc. Soon's they started lendin' money to farmers, I -'plied for a loan to buy me a li'l' place dat I wuz gwine t' wuk an' -pay for off whut I raised. But dey tol' me dey didn' have no funds -t' lento niggers an' dat dey already done loaned all dey had to de -white farmers. W'en I ast dem to put my name down on de lis' to get -a loan when some mo' money came in, dey tol me dat it wa'n't no use -‘cause dey already had so many white folks' names down on de lis' -dat dey nevah would come to de cullud folks." - -"Did you think about writing to Washington and telling them that -they were discriminating against Negro farmers?" questioned Kenneth. - -"Yas, suh, we done dat too. But dey wrote us back dat de onliest way -any loan could be made was th'u' de local agents, so dat didn't come -to nuthin'." - -"But, good Lord, they can't discriminate in that way against you -without something being done about it!" was Kenneth's indignant -comment. - -Tucker looked at him with a wan smile that was almost pitying at the -ignorance of the younger man. His voice became paternal. - -"Son, dat's jes' zactly like de man whut wuz in jail and his frien' -come by and ast him whut dey put him in jail for. When de man in -jail tol' him whut he wuz ‘cused of, de man on de outside said: 'Dey -can't put you in jail for dat! De man dat was lookin' out at him -th'u' de bars laughed and said: ‘But I'se in jail!' An' dat's de way -‘tis wif de cullud folks in de Souf. Dey's lots of things dey can't -do to 'em but dese white folks does it jes' de same. I reckon you -got a lot of things t' learn yet, Doc, spite of goin' up Nawth t' -study." - -Kenneth felt properly rebuked by this humble man who, though -illiterate, was far from being ignorant. He joined in, but not very -heartily, at the general laughter at Tucker's homely sally. - -Mr. Wilson, as acting chairman, ended the discussion by calling on -Tom Tracy. Tracy was a much younger man than Tucker and was about -Kenneth's age. Tall, well built, intelligent looking, his dark brown -face had worn a scowl of discontent and resentment while Tucker had -been talking. He began talking in a clear voice that but poorly -masked the bitterness he felt but which he tried to keep out of his -voice. Older men like Mr. Tucker were always quick to rebuke any -sign of "uppishness" in the younger generation. - -"I graduated from Tuskegee three years ago. My old mother worked -herself almost to death to keep me in school, and I came back here -determined to earn enough money to let her rest the balance of her -life. But she and my father had been living all their lives just -like Mr. Tucker here, and they didn't have anything to give me a -start. So I went to work on shares, taking that thirty acres that -joins on to Mr. Tucker's farm on the South. I took this land that -wasn't thought to be any good, because it had been exhausted through -overworking it year after year. I bought some new ploughs and fixed -it up fine. I thought I could put the things I learned at Tuskegee -into practice and in a couple of years pay off all I owed. But -instead of doing that, I'm getting deeper in debt every year. I rent -my place from Ed Stewart and he knows that I know he's cheating and -robbing and lying to me, but when I try to show him where he is -wrong in his figures, all he does is to get mad and start to cussing -me and telling me that if I don't keep a civil tongue in my head, -the Ku Klux Klan will be hearing about this ‘sassy young nigger -Tracy' and I'll wish I had kept my mouth shut. I'm getting sick of -the whole thing, too. If it wasn't for the old folks, I expect I'd -‘a' started something long ago. They are all talking about me being -a dangerous character out my way already. Say I'm too ‘uppity' and I -need to be taught a lesson to show me that ‘niggers must stay in -their places.'" - -Tracy finished speaking in a tone that was almost a shout. It could -be seen that he was very near the breaking-point from brooding over -the wrongs he had suffered. - -Mr. Phillips, who had said nothing, broke in with a question. - -"Tom, why don't you move away from Ed Stewart's place if he doesn't -treat you right?" - -Tracy replied bitterly: - -"Yes, suppose I tried to leave, what would happen? The same day I -left, Sheriff Parker would come and get me. They'd put me on trial -for jumping my contract and fine me. Old Stewart would be in court -to testify against me. He'd pay my fine and then I'd have to go back -to Stewart's place and work a year or two for nothing, paying off -the fine. A fat chance I've got with the cards all stacked against -me!" - -Mr. Young, of the Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church, nodded -assent to Tracy's statement. - -"Brother Tracy's right. Look at what happened to Jeff Anderson down -near Valdosta last spring. He ran away and got to Detroit where he -had a good job working in an automobile plant. They swore out a -warrant against him for stealing, brought him back, and the last I -heard of him he was back down there working out a -three-hundred-dollar fine. No, Brother Phillips, you've been reading -the law that applies to white folks—not to us coloured people." - -James Swann's story was along the same lines as the others. The -seven men entered into a discussion of ways and means of taking some -action which would alleviate conditions before the harvesting of the -crop which was now in the ground. One suggestion after another was -offered, only to be as quickly discarded because of local -difficulties. Midnight came, with no decision reached. When it -became apparent that nothing would be settled, Kenneth was chosen -with Mr. Wilson and Mr. Phillips to work out some plan to be -reported at the meeting to be held one week later. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - -THERE was being held another meeting the same night. Two miles from -Central City, to the North, was a natural auditorium, an -amphitheatre formed by three hills. In this place a meeting alfresco -was in progress. Though the place was far enough from the road to be -reasonably free from prying intruders, sentinels paced the narrow -roads that led to the place of assemblage. Skeleton-like pine-trees -formed an additional barrier to the lonely spot, making as they did -a natural fringe atop the three hills. - -There was no moon. Light was furnished by pine torches fastened in -some instances to trees, in others borne aloft by members of the -gathering. About three hundred men were ranged in a circle around a -rudely carved cross stuck in the ground. Each man was garbed in a -long white robe reaching to his feet. On the left breast of each -hood was a cross with other strange figures. Over the head of each -man was a cowl with holes for eyelets. It was a meeting of Central -City Klan, Knights of the Ku Klux Klan, Realm of Georgia. The -Exalted Cyclops, whose voice bore a remarkable likeness to that of -Sheriff Parker, was initiating new members into the mysteries of the -order. He held in his hand a sheet from which he was reading the -oath which the "aliens" repeated after him with their right hands -upraised. Whether through fright or excitement or because the night -air was chilly, the voices of the embryo "knights" had a strange -quaver in them. Around them, rank on rank, stood the Klansmen, who -followed the ceremony closely. - -"… will willingly conform—to all regulations, usages, and -requirements—of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan—which do now -exist—or which may hereafter—be enacted—and will render—at all -times—loyal respect, and steadfast support—to the Imperial Authority -of same. …" - -The droning voices ended the monotonous recital. The flickering -torches gave forth a weird light that was lost in the darkness cast -by the trees. The pungent odour of burning resin and the thick -stifling smoke were blown by vagrant breezes into the faces of the -hooded figures, causing a constant accompaniment of coughs, sneezes, -and curses to the mumbled words. A recent rain-storm had left the -low-lying ground soggy and damp and mightily uncomfortable -underfoot. The crowd shifted uneasily as their feet grew cold with -the dampness. Moths, mosquitoes, and other flying insects, attracted -by the flaring lights, swarmed, getting beneath the cowls and robes -and adding to the discomfort of the wearers. Even the imperfect -illumination showed the cheap material of which the disguises were -made, exhibited the wrinkles and dirt around the hems, revealed -every aspect of the ill-fitting garments. Once from a spluttering -torch there fell a bit of blazing resin on the hand of the man -holding the light. With a yell he dropped the torch, danced and -howled with pain, a ludicrous figure, until the agony had subsided. -The torch, flung hastily away, set fire to the underbrush into which -it had been cast. An unlooked-for intermission in the ceremonies -followed as a score of the figures, holding the skirts of their -robes aloft like old maids frightened at the appearance of a mouse, -stamped out the fire, circling and yelling like a band of whirling -deryishes. - -Stodgy, phlegmatic, stupid citizens by day, these by night went -through the discomforts of so unprepared a meeting-place, and -through the absurdities of the rites imposed upon them by clever -rogues who extracted from them fees and donations for the privilege -of being made to appear more silly than is usually apparent. Add to -that gullibility a natural love of the mysterious and adventurous -and an instinct towards brute action restrained only by fear of -punishment, by a conjuring of bogies and other malevolent dangers, -and one understands, at least in part, the presence of these three -hundred "white, Gentile, Protestant" citizens of Central City at -this meeting. - -The initiation ended, the Exalted Cyclops ordered the Kligrapp or -secretary to read several communications from the Imperial Klan -Palace at Atlanta. This he did, struggling manfully through the -weird and absurd verbiage that would have made any of the men -present howl with laughter had he heard his children using it in -their play. Instead it was listened to attentively, seriously, and -solemnly. - -Then followed a recital of the work to be done by the local Klan. -The Kligrapp consulted a sheet of paper in his hand. - -"The eye that never sleeps has been seeking out those in our city -who have acted in a manner displeasing to the Invisible Empire. -There is in Central City a nigger wench named Nancy Ware who has -been saying evil things against our brother, George Parker. In the -name of our sacred order, and in the furtherance of our supreme duty -of preservation of white supremacy, she is being watched and will be -treated so as to end her dangerous utterances." - -At this statement a robed figure that, even under the disguise, -seemed to resemble him who had been "defamed" by Nancy Ware's tongue -nodded approvingly. The Kligrapp continued after a pause: - -"Word has also come to us from Brothers Ed Stewart and Taylor that -there's a young nigger named Tom Tracy out this way who's going -around among the niggers saying that they have got to stop white -people from robbing them on their crops. Tracy hasn't done anything -but talk thus far, but we will keep our eye on him and stop him if -he talks too much." Cowled heads nodded approvingly. - -"And then there's a nigger doctor who came in my office I mean, he -went into the office of Health Commissioner Lane—and had the gall to -repo't the death of a nigger bootlegger and say that a white man had -killed him for fooling around with the nigger's wife. This nigger's -daddy was one of the best niggers that ever lived here in this town, -and this boy's keeping away from the other trouble-making niggers, -but we've got to watch all these niggers that's been spoiled by -goin' to school." He added, as an afterthought: "… up Nawth." - -And so he droned on. Negroes, two Jews, three men suspected of -Catholic leanings—all were condemned by the self-appointed arbiters -of morals and manners. One or two men were singled out as violating -the code of morals by consorting with Negro women. There was not -much to report on this score, as those who were violating this rule -in Central City had rushed, on formation of a Klan there, to join -the order, that they might gain immunity from attack and yet -continue their extra-legal activities without check or interference. -With the conclusion of the Kligrapp's report, the meeting dispersed, -the members silently entered the woods and there disrobing, and -scattering to their various homes. Some went towards "Factoryville," -some towards the country districts, others climbed into automobiles -parked near the road and drove towards the residential section of -Central City where lived the more affluent merchants and other -upper-class whites of the town. - -The place was soon deserted. The ceremony had been a strange mixture -of the impressive and the absurd. There was underneath the -ridiculously worded language, the amusing childlike observance of -the empty ceremonies, the queer appearance of the robes all designed -alike with little regard for fatness or thinness of the prospective -wearers, a seriousness which betokened a belief in the urgent need -of their organizing in such a manner. They had been duped so long by -demagogues, deluded generation after generation into believing their -sole hope of existence depended on oppression and suppression of the -Negro, that the chains of the ignorance and suppression they sought -to fasten on their Negro neighbours had subtly bound them in -unbreakable fashion. They opposed every move for better educational -facilities for their children, for improvement of their health or -economic status or welfare in general, if such improvement meant -better advantages for Negroes. - -Creatures of the fear they sought to inspire in others, their lives -are lived in constant dread of the things of evil and terror they -preached. It is a system based on stark, abject fear—fear that he -whom they termed inferior might, with opportunity, prove himself not -inferior. This unenlightened viewpoint rules men throughout the -South like those who formed the Central City Klan—dominates their -every action or thought—keeps the whites back while the Negro—in -spite of what he suffers—always keeps his face towards the sun of -achievement. … - -In spite of the secrecy surrounding the meeting, next morning all -Central City talked of what had taken place on the previous evening. -In such a town, where little diversion exists, the inhabitants seize -with avidity upon every morsel of news that promises entertainment. -Though they had taken fearful oaths of secrecy, it was asking too -much of human frailty to expect three hundred men to refrain even -from mysterious hints of their doings. With the love that simple -minds have of the clandestine, the midnight secrecy, the elaborately -arranged peregrinations to the place of meeting, the safeguards -adopted by the leaders not so much to prevent interference as to -impress their followers, the "inviolable oath," the grips and -passwords—all these added to the human desire to be considered -important in the eyes of family and friends and neighbours. Thus -many of the three hundred dropped hints to their wives of what had -been said and done. Over back fences, at the stores on Lee Street, -in the numerous places where women contrived to meet and gossip, the -one topic discussed was the meeting of the night before. One told -her bit of information to another, who in turn contributed her mite. -Each in turn told a third and a fourth. With each telling, the ball -of gossip grew, and each repetition bore artistic additions of fact -or fancy designed to add to the drama of the story. By noon the -compounded result assumed the proportions of a feat bordering on the -heroic. - -At the noonday meal, known as dinner, the men found themselves -viewed in a new and admiring light by their spouses and offspring. -They basked in the temporary glamour and sought to add to the fame -of their midnight prowling by elaborate hints of deeds of dark and -magnificent proportions. - -In turn, to the Negro section of Central City were borne the tales -by cooks and laundresses and maids, servants, with acutely developed -ears, in the houses of the whites. Everywhere in the Negro section, -in homes, on street corners, over back fences, the news was -discussed by the dusky inhabitants of the town. In the eyes of a -few, fear could be discerned. Most of the Negroes, however, -discussed the news as they would have talked about the coming of the -circus to town. Some talked loudly and in braggart fashion of what -they would do if the "Kluxers" bothered them. Others examined for -the hundredth time well-oiled revolvers. Most generally the feeling -was a hope the Klan would not bother any coloured person—but if it -did—! … - -It was natural that the news should eventually reach Nancy Ware and -Tom Tracy and, last of all, Kenneth. Mrs. Amos, bustling with -importance, hastened as fast as her rheumatism would allow to tell -Mrs. Harper what the Klansmen had said or, to be more accurate, what -Dame Rumour said the Klansmen had said, about Kenneth and Bob. It -was obvious the two men had taken on a new importance in her eyes in -being singled out for the attention of the clandestine organization. - -That night in Kenneth's office the brothers talked over the news. -Kenneth scoffed at what seemed to him a fantastic and improbable -tale. He looked searchingly at his brother. - -"Well Bob, what do you make of it?" - -"Trouble for somebody," said Bob positively. "And I have a sort of -feeling that that somebody is us," he added after a pause. - -"I'm not so sure," was Kenneth's doubtful rejoinder. "Some of these -Crackers are just mean enough to start something, but I'm pretty -sure there are enough decent white people in Central City to check -any trouble that might start." - -Bob said nothing, though his face showed plainly he did not share -his brother's confidence. Kenneth went on: - -"Besides, they must have sense enough to know that a sheet and -pillow-case won't scare coloured folks to-day as they did fifty -years ago. It wasn't hard to scare Negroes then—they'd just come out -of slavery, and believed in ghosts and spooks and all those other -silly things. But to-day⸺" - -"I think white people are right sometimes," broke in Bob with -conviction, "when they say education ruins a Negro. One of those -times is when you talk like that." - -The irony in his voice was but thinly veiled. He continued: - -"The Southern white man boasts he knows the Negro better than -anybody else, but he knows less what the coloured man is really -thinking than the man in the moon. I'll bet anything you say, that -seven out of every ten men in town believe that you and I and all -the rest of us coloured folks are scared to death every time we hear -the word ‘Ku Klux.' They believe the sight of one of those fool -robes'll make us run and hide under a bed⸺" - -"Oh, I don't go quite that far," interrupted Kenneth. "I only said I -thought some of the good white people" - -"You can name all your ‘good white folks' on one hand," replied Bob -irritably. "A lot they could do if these poor white trash decide to -raise hell. Why, they'd lynch Judge Stevenson or Roy Ewing or -anybody else if they tried to stop 'em. Look what they did to -Governor Slaton at Atlanta just because he commuted the sentence of -that Jew, Leo Frank!" he added triumphantly. "A mob even went out to -his house to lynch _him—the governor!"_ - -"But that was an extraordinary case," replied Kenneth. - -"Call it what you will, it just shows you how far they will go when -they are all stirred up. And with this Ku Klux outfit to stir them -up, there's no telling what'll happen." - -"Bob, do you really believe what you said just now about most of -them really believing Negroes will be scared by the Klan? That seems -so far-fetched." - -"Believe it? Of course I do. Just use your eyes and see how Negroes -fool white folks all the time. Take, for instance, old Will -Hutchinson who works for Mr. Baird. Will cuts all sorts of -monkey-shines around Baird, laughs like an idiot, and wheedles old -Baird out of anything he's got. Baird gives it to him and then tells -his friends about ‘his good nigger Will' and boasts that Will is one -‘darky' he really knows. Then Will goes home and laughs at the fool -he's made of Baird by acting like a fool." Bob laughed at the memory -of many occasions on which Will had bamboozled his employer. "And -there are Negroes all over the South doing the same thing every -day!" he ended. - -"That's true," admitted Kenneth, "but what ought we to do about this -meeting last night?" - -"Do?" echoed Bob. A determined look came to his face, his teeth -clenched, his eyes narrowed until they became thin slits. "Do?" he -repeated. "If they ever bother me, I'm going to fight—and fight like -hell!" - -Long into the night Kenneth sat alone in his office, wondering how -it was all going to turn out. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - -THE next day Kenneth received a letter from Jane Phillips. In it she -announced that she would arrive in Central City on Monday morning. - -Kenneth's face took on a satisfied smile and deep down in his heart -there was happiness and contentment. Jane had occupied an -increasingly large portion of his thoughts ever since those -wonderful ten days they had spent together last December. Kenneth's -life had been singularly free from feminine influence, other than -that of his mother. It was not that he was averse to such influence, -but his life had been so busy that he had had no time to spend in -wandering through the Elysian fields of love-making. There had been -one girl in New York. He had met her at a dance in Harlem. Together -they had spent their Sundays and the evenings when he was free from -his duties at the hospital in wandering through Central and Bronx -Parks. Occasionally they had attended the theatre. One night their -hands had touched as they sat in the semi-darkness and watched the -tender love scene on the stage. She had not withdrawn her hand. He -sat there thrilled at the touch and had lived the character of the -make-believe hero as he made ardent love on the stage. Naturally, -the heroine was none other than the girl who sat beside him. -Afterwards, they had ridden home atop a Fifth Avenue bus, and the -whole city seemed filled with romance. He had imagined himself at -the time deeply in love. But that tender episode had soon ended when -he told her he was planning to return to Georgia. "Kenneth!" she had -exclaimed. "How can you think of living down South again? It's silly -of you even to think of it! I could never think of living down there -where they are likely to lynch you at a moment's notice! It's too -barbaric, too horrible an existence to consider even for a minute!" -Kenneth had tried to show her that it wasn't as bad as it had been -painted, that coloured people who minded their own business never -had any trouble. But she had been obdurate. Kenneth left the house -in a huff, and had never gone back again. What silly notions women -have, he had thought to himself. The reason they talked about the -South that way was because of sheer ignorance. As if he couldn't -manage his own affairs and keep away from trouble! Humph! Well rid -of the silly creature, and he felt glad he had found out before -going in too deep. - -But now this was different. Jane had no such absurd notions as those -girls up North had. She wasn't the sort that couldn't leave -promenading down Seventh Avenue in New York or State Street in -Chicago or U Street in Washington. It wasn't that she didn't know -what it meant to live in the North. Hadn't she been to Atlantic City -and New York and Washington with her mother? No, Jane was just the -sort of girl who would make the right sort of companion for him in a -place like Central City. Intelligent, with a good education, -talented musically—she would make an ideal wife. Kenneth found -himself musing along in this fashion until aroused by his mother as -she called him to supper. - -It was darned silly of him, he thought as he arose to comply, to go -along thinking like this. He and Jane had spoken no word of love -when she had been at home at Christmas. Nor had their letters been -other than those of good friends. But hadn't she written him almost -every week since she left? She must think something of him to have -done that. He determined that as soon as he could he would skilfully -direct the conversation to the point where he could find out just -where he stood. It was time that he was thinking about settling -down, anyhow. He would be twenty-nine his next birthday—he was -making money—if he acted wisely his future was assured. Yes, he -would find out how Jane felt. Both his mother and Mamie liked -Jane—and Mr. Phillips had called him "my boy" several times lately -and had repeated to him snatches of the letters that Jane had -written home. The only doubtful quantity was the attitude of Jane -herself. - -On Monday morning Kenneth reached the railroad station long before -the train arrived. He tried to sit in the filthy little waiting-room -with the sign over the door, "FOR COLOURED," but the air was so -oppressive that he chose rather to walk up and down the road outside -the station. At last the train came. He walked down towards the -engine where the Jim Crow car was. It was half baggage car and half -coach. A motley crowd of laughing, shouting Negroes descended, -calling out to friends and relatives in the group of Negroes on the -ground. Standing on tiptoe, Kenneth strained his eyes to get glimpse -of Jane. The windows of the coach were too dirty to see inside. At -last she appeared on the platform, dainty, neat, and looking as -though she had just emerged from her own room, in spite of the filth -and cindery foulness of the coach. Kenneth thought of the simile of -a rose springing up from a bed of noisome and unlovely weeds as he -hurried forward to help Jane with her bags through the crowd of -coloured people that flocked around the steps. - -Jane greeted him cordially enough, her eyes shining with pleasure at -seeing him again. Kenneth, however, felt a vague disappointment. He -had let his thoughts run riot while she had been away. So far as he -was concerned, the only things necessary were the actual asking of -the all-important question and the choosing of a wedding-day. As he -followed her to his car, he turned over in his mind just what it was -that disappointed him so in her greeting. He couldn't put his finger -on it exactly, but she would have greeted Bob or any other man just -as warmly and he would not have felt jealous at all. Maybe she's -tired from the ride in that dirty and noisy car? She'll be quite -different when I go over to see her to-night, he thought. - -He inquired regarding her trip—was it pleasant? "Ugh, it was -horrible!" she replied, shuddering at the memory of it. "I had a -Pullman as far as Atlanta, but there I had to change to that dirty -old Jim Crow car. There was a crowd of Negroes who had three or four -quarts of cheap liquor. They were horrible. Why, they even had the -nerve to offer me a drink! And the conductor must have told -everybody on the train that I was up front, because all night long -there was a constant procession of white men passing up and down the -coach looking at me in a way that made my blood boil. I didn't dare -go to sleep, because I didn't know what might happen. It was awful!" - -She sat silent as she lived over again the horror of the ride. Then, -shaking off her mood, she turned to him with a cheerful smile. -"Thank Goodness, it's over now, and I don't want to think of it any -more than I can help. Tell me all about yourself and what you've -been doing and everything," she finished all in a breath. - -He told her briefly what had been going on, of his plans for the -hospital, of the meeting at Reverend Wilson's, and other items of -interest about life in Central City, until they had arrived at her -home. He waited for an invitation to come in, but in the excitement -of seeing her mother and father again, she forgot all about Kenneth. -Placing her bags on the porch, he turned and left after promising to -run over for a while that evening. - -The time seemed to go by on dragging feet that day. It seemed as -though evening never would come. It did at last, however, and as -soon as he finished with the last patient, he went over to Jane's -home. Refreshed by a long rest, she greeted him clad in a dress of -some filmy blue material. They seated themselves on the porch, -shaded by vines from the eyes of passers-by. Over Kenneth there came -a feeling of contentment—life had not been easy for him and he had -been denied a confidante with whom he could discuss the perplexities -he had experienced in Central City. The talk for a time drifted from -one topic to another. Before he knew it, Kenneth was telling Jane of -his ambitions, of the plans he had made before coming back to -Central City, of the successes and failures he had met with, of his -hopes for the future. Jane listened without speaking for some time. -Life among coloured people is so intense, so earnest, so serious a -problem in the South, that never do two intelligent Negroes talk -very long before the race problem in some form is under discussion. -Jane interrupted Kenneth in the midst of his recital. - -"Kenneth, did you really believe that you could come back here to -Central City and keep entirely away from the race problem?" - -"I don't know that I thought it out as carefully as that, but I -hoped to do something like that," was his uneasy reply. He had the -feeling that she didn't altogether approve of him. Her next words -proved that she didn't. - -"Well, you can't do it. Just because your father got along all right -is no reason why you should do the same things he did. You are -living in a time that is as different from his as his was from his -great-grandfather's." - -"But⸺" he attempted to defend himself. - -"Wait a minute until I've had my say," she checked him. "Only a few -years ago they said that as soon as Negroes got property and made -themselves good citizens the race problem would be solved. They said -that only bad Negroes were ever lynched and they alone caused all -the trouble. But you just think back over the list of coloured -people right here in Central City who've had the most trouble during -the past two years. What do you find? That it is the Negro who has -acquired more property than the average white man, they are always -picking on. Poor whites resent seeing a Negro more prosperous than -they, and they satisfy their resentment by making it hard on that -Negro. Am I right—or am I wrong?" - -"I suppose there is something in what you say—but what's the answer? -You're damned if you do—and you're damned if you don't!" - -"I don't know what the answer is—if I did, I'd certainly try to put -it into use, instead of sitting around and trying to dodge trouble. -If one of your patients had a cancer, you wouldn't advise him to use -Christian Science in treating it, would you?" - -Without pausing for a reply, she went on, her words pouring out in a -flood that made Kenneth feel as he did as a boy when spanked by his -mother. "No, you wouldn't! You'd operate! And that's just what the -coloured people and the white people of the South have got to do. -That is, those who've got any sense and backbone. If they don't, -then this thing they call the race problem is going to grow so big -it's going to consume the South and America. It's almost that big -now." - -She paused for breath. Kenneth started to speak but she checked him -with her hand. - -"I'm not through yet! I've been thinking over this thing for a long -time, just as every other Negro has done who's got brains enough to -do any thinking at all. I am sick and tired of hearing all this -prating about the ‘superior race.' Superior—humph! Kenneth, what you -and all the rest of Negroes need is to learn that you belong to a -race that was centuries old when the first white man came into the -world. You've got to learn that a large part of this thing they call -‘white civilization' was made by black hands, as well as by yellow -and brown and red hands, too, besides what white hands have created. -You've got to learn that the Negro to-day is contributing as much of -the work that makes this civilization possible as the white race, if -not more. Be proud of your race and quit whining and cringing! -You'll never get anywhere until you do! There, I've wanted to get -that out of my system for a long time ever since we talked together -last Christmas. Now it's out and I'm through!" - -Kenneth sat quiet. While she had been pouring forth her tirade, he -had thought of several logical arguments he could have advanced. But -she had given him no chance to utter them. Now they seemed weak and -useless. He was resentful—what did women know about the practical -problems and difficulties of life, anyway? His anger was not abated -by the realization that Jane felt that he had been trying to avoid -his responsibility to himself and to his people—that he had been a -coward. And yet she was right in a general way in what she had said. -Masking as well as he could the chagrin he felt at her words, he -told her of the trouble Tucker and Tracy and Swann and the other -share-croppers were having, and gave her further details of the -meeting at Reverend Wilson's. - -She sensed the wound to his pride that she had inflicted. She did -not regret doing what she had done—on the long ride home she had -determined that she would tell him those very things as soon as she -could find opportunity—but, with a woman's natural tenderness, she -regretted the necessity of hurting him. She put her hand over his -for an instant, touched at his dejected manner. - -"I'm sorry, Ken, if I hurt you, but I did it because you are too -fine a man, and you've got too good an education, to try to dodge an -issue as plain as yours. Why, Kenneth, you've had it mighty -soft—just think of the thousands of coloured boys all over the South -who are too poor to get even a high-school training. You've never -had to get down and dig for what you've got—perhaps it would have -been better if you had. It's men with your brains and education that -have got to take the leadership. You've got to make good! That's -just the reason they try to make it hard for men like you—they know -that if you ever get going, their treating the Negro as they have -has got to stop! They're darned scared of educated Negroes with -brains—that's why they make it hard for you!" - -Kenneth threw out his hands, palms upward, and shrugged his -shoulders. - -"I suppose I agree with you in theory, Jane, but what are the -practical ways of doing the things you say I ought to do? How, for -example, can I help Tracy and Tucker and all the rest of the farmers -who're being robbed of all they earn every year?" - -"Don't get angry now just because I touched your masculine vanity. I -know about the share-cropping system in a general way. Tell me the -facts that were brought out at the meeting." - -Kenneth told her in detail the things Hiram Tucker and the others -had said. She sat in thought for a minute, her chin cupped in the -palm of her hand, her elbow resting on the arm of the chair, as she -rocked back and forth. Kenneth sat watching her in what was almost -sardonic amusement. He had been wrestling with this same problem -ever since Thursday night and was no nearer a solution than he had -been then. It would be amusing in a few minutes, after all her -high-flown thoughts and elaborate generalities about bucking the -race question, when she would be forced to admit that when it came -to solving one of the practical problems of the whole question her -generalizing would be of no avail. He was aroused by a question -thrown at him suddenly by Jane. - -"Do these folks have to buy their supplies from the landlord?" - -"Not that I know of," he replied. "They buy from the landlord, or -the merchant designated by the landlord, because they haven't the -money or the credit to trade anywhere else." - -There followed another pause while the rocking began again. - -"Do you remember any of the economics you learned at school?" was -the next query. He replied that he supposed he did. - -"Have you got any books on co-operative societies?" He doubted -whether he had. - -"Well, never mind." She swung her chair around, facing Kenneth, and -leaned forward intently, the light from the arc-lamp in the corner -illumining her face and revealing the eager, enthusiastic look upon -it. - -"Kenneth, why can't those coloured people pool their money and buy -their goods wholesale and then distribute them at cost?" - -Kenneth laughed, it must be confessed a little cheerfully, that she -had gone from one problem into the mazes of another that was just as -difficult. - -"For the very same reason that they are in the predicament they are -in to-day. They haven't got the money. Perhaps you can tell me where -the money to start this co-operative scheme is coming from?" - -"That's an easy one to answer. It's going to come from you and papa -and three or four more of these folks here in town who can afford -it! Oh, Ken, can't you see what a big thing you can do? There are -lots of people, white people I mean, right here in Central City, -who'd be glad to help these poor Negroes get out of debt. Papa was -telling us today about a talk he had with Judge Stevenson the other -day. The Judge said he wished there was some way to help without it -making him unpopular with the other folks here in town. Of course, -the folks who are making money off this system, the landlords and -the store-keepers, won't like it, but you can go and talk with folks -like Judge Stevenson and Mr. Baird down at the Bank of Central City. -If this first trial succeeds—and I know it will be a success—it'll -spread all over Smith County, and then all over Georgia, and then -all over the South, and the coloured folks will have millions of -dollars that they've been cheated out of before. That, Kenneth -Harper, is one way you can lead, and it won't get you in bad with -the white people at least the decent ones—either." - -Kenneth began to be infected by her enthusiasm. He saw that her idea -had possibilities. But, manlike, he didn't want to give in too soon -or too readily. - -"There is something in what you say, Jane, but the details will have -to be worked out first before we can tell if it is a practicable -idea. I'll think it⸺" - -Jane interrupted him, showing that she hadn't even been listening to -him. - -"When are you to meet again at Reverend Wilson's?" she asked. - -He told her. - -"Well, I tell you what we'll do. You go home and think over all the -ways we can put this idea into practice. I'll do the same thing. And -then we'll talk it over again to-morrow night. On Wednesday you go -down to see Judge Stevenson and see if he will draw up the papers so -it'll be legal and binding and everything else. Then on Thursday -night you can present this as your own idea, and I'll bet you -anything you say, they'll take it up and you'll be the one chosen to -lead the whole movement." - -After some discussion of details, Kenneth left. The more he thought -of Jane's idea, the more it appealed to him. At any rate, she had -suggested more in half an hour than he had been able to think of in -four days. Hadn't the co-operative societies been the backbone of -the movement to get rid of the Czar in Russia? If the Russian -peasants, who certainly weren't as educated as the Negro in America, -had made a success of the idea, the Negro in the South ought to do -it. By Jove, they could do it! Idea after idea sprang to his mind, -after the seed had been sown by Jane, until he had visions of a vast -cooperative society not only buying but selling the millions of -dollars' worth of products raised by the nine million Negroes of the -South. And that wasn't all! These societies would be formed with -each member paying monthly dues, like the fraternal organizations. -When enough money was in the treasury, they would employ the very -best lawyers money could get to take one of those cases where a -Negro had not been able to get a fair settlement with his landlord, -and make a test case of it. What if they did lose in the local -court? They'd take it to the State Supreme Court! What if they did -lose even there? They'd take it clear up to the United States -Supreme Court! They were sure to win there. Kenneth walked home with -his head whirling with the project's possibilities. He saw a new day -coming when a man in the South would no longer be exploited and -robbed just because he was black. And when that came, lynching and -everything else like it would go too. He felt already like Matthew -and Andrew and Peter and John and the other disciples when they -started out to bring the good news to the whole world. For wasn't he -a latter-day disciple bringing a new solution and a new hope to his -people? - -It was not until Kenneth had gone to bed that he realized that -though he had been with Jane all the evening, he had had not one -minute when he could have spoken of love to her. Musing thus, he -fell asleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - -EARLY the next morning Kenneth rose and rummaged through his books -until he found his old and battered text-books on economics. - -Into these he dipped during the intervals between patients, making -notes of ideas which seemed useful in the organization of the -co-operative society. The more he read, the more feasible the plan -seemed. Properly guided and carefully managed, there was no reason, -so far as he could see, why the society should not be a success. -Eighty per cent of the farmers of the South, white and coloured, he -estimated, suffered directly or indirectly from the present economic -system. Though his interest was in the Negro tillers of the soil, -success in their case would inevitably react favourably on the white -just as oppression and exploitation of the Negro had done more harm -to white people in the South than to Negroes. Kenneth felt the warm -glow of the crusader in a righteous cause. Already he saw a new day -in the South with white and coloured people free from oppression and -hatred and prejudice—prosperous and contented because of that -prosperity. He could see a lifting of the clouds of ignorance which -hung over all the South, an awakening of the best in all the people -of the South. Thus has youth dreamed since the beginning of time. -Thus will youth ever dream. And in those dreams rests the hope of -the world, for without them this world with all its defects would -sink into the black abyss of despair, never to rise again. - -His work finished for the day, he went as soon as he decently could -to talk with Jane. She, too, had been at work. Eagerly they planned -between them the infinite details of so ambitious a scheme. -Confidently they discounted possible difficulties they might expect -to encounter—the opposition of the whites who were profiting from -the present system, the petty jealousies and suspicions of those who -would gain most from the success of their scheme. They realized that -the Negro had been robbed so much, both by his own people and by the -whites, that he was chary of new plans and projects. They knew he -was contentious and quarrelsome. These things seemed trivial, -however, for with the natural expansiveness of the young they felt -that difficulties like these were but trifles to be airily brushed -aside. - -Jane was not too much engrossed in their plans to notice the change -in Kenneth's manner. She had watched him closely during the times -she had seen him since his return. He had been almost morose, his -mind divided between his work and the effort to keep to a -"middle-of-the-road" course in his relations with the whites. The -inevitable conflict within himself, the lack of decisiveness in his -daily life that he consciously developed and which was so -diametrically opposite to that he used in his profession, had begun -to create a complex personality that was far from pleasing. In a -freer atmosphere Kenneth would have been a direct, straightforward -character, swift to decision and quick of action. One cannot, -however, compromise principle constantly and consciously without -bearing the marks of such conflicts. - -His compromises were not all conscious ones, though. He believed -honestly it was wisest that he observe some sort of half-way ground -between rank cowardice and uncompromising opposition to the -conditions which existed. In doing so, he had no sense of physical -or moral timidity. He knew no Negro could yet safely advocate -complete freedom for the Negro in the South. He felt there had been -improvement during the past half-century in those conditions. He -believed that in time all of the Negro's present problems would be -solved satisfactorily. If, by not trying to rush things, he could -help in that solution, he was content. In believing thus, Kenneth -was different in no way from the majority of intelligent Negroes in -the South: temporizing with the truth, it may be, yet of such -temporizations and compromises is the life of the Negro all over the -South. - -With the evolving of a plan which enabled him to be of help and, at -the same time, involved him in no danger of trouble with his white -neighbours, Kenneth took on an eagerness which was at marked -variance with his former manner. His eyes shone with the desire to -make their plan a success. Of a tender and sympathetic nature, -almost with the gentleness of a woman, he realized now that the -burdens of his race had lain heavy upon him. He had suffered in -their suffering, had felt almost as though he had been the victim -when he read or heard of a lynching, had chafed under the bonds -which bound the hands and feet and heart and soul of his people. But -launched as he now was on a plan to furnish relief from one of the -worst of those bonds, he had changed overnight into a determined and -purposeful and ardent worker towards the goal he and Jane had set -for themselves. Jane rejoiced at the changed air of Kenneth—he -seemed to have emerged from the shell in which he had encased -himself and, womanlike, she rejoiced that he had done so through her -own work. - -So absorbed had they been in discussion of their plans that the time -had flown by as though on wings. Ten o'clock was announced by -Mr. Phillips in the room above by the dropping of his shoes, one -after the other, on the floor. Kenneth needed no second signal, he -rose to go. Jane went to the door with him. - -"Kenneth, you're entirely different from the way you were yesterday. -I'm so glad. …" - -The next morning he called on Judge Stevenson. The Judge's office -was above the Bon Ton Store in a two-story brick building on Lee -Street. Kenneth climbed the flight of dingy, dusty stairs which bore -alternately on the vertical portions tin signs inscribed: - -Richad P. Stevenson, Attorney-at-Law - -and - -Dr. J. C. Carpenter, Dentist. - -The judge's office was at the head of the stairs and in it Kenneth -found the old lawyer seated near the window, his coat off, and in -his mouth the long, thin, villainous-looking cigar without which few -persons in Central City ever remembered seeing him, though none had -ever seen one of them lighted. He chewed on it ruminatively when in -repose. When engaged in an argument, either in or out of a -courtroom, and especially when opposition caused his choleric temper -to be aroused, he chewed furiously as though he would have enjoyed -treating his enemy of the moment in similar fashion. He was tall and -thickset, his snow-white hair brushed straight back from his -forehead like the mane of a lion. Skin reddened by exposure to sun -and wind, bushy eyebrows from under which gleamed fiery eyes that -could shift in an instant from twinkling good humour to flashing -indignation or anger, thin nose and ample mouth, his face was one -that would command respect or at least attention in almost any -gathering. He wore loosely fitting, baggy clothes that draped his -ample figure with a gracefulness that added to his distinguished -appearance. Many thought he resembled at first glance that famous -Kentuckian, Henry Watterson, and indeed he did bear an unmistakable -likeness to "Marse Henry." - -The judge's life had been a curious combination of contradictions. -He had fought valiantly in the Confederate army as a major, serving -under "Stonewall" Jackson, whose memory he worshipped second only to -that of his wife, who had died some ten years before. He bore a long -scar, reminder of the wound that had laid him low during the battle -of Atlanta. His mode of brushing his hair back was adopted to cover -the mark, but when he talked, as he loved to do, of his martial -experiences, he would always, at the same time in the narrative, -brush, with one sweep of his hand, the hair down over his forehead -and reveal the jagged scar of which he was inordinately proud. - -With the end of the Civil War, he had reconciled himself to the -result though it had meant the loss of most of his wealth. He -harboured little bitterness towards the North, unlike most of his -comrades in arms who never were willing to forgo any opportunity to -vent their venomous hatred of their conquerors. Judge Stevenson had -counselled against such a spirit. So vigorously had he done it, he -had alienated most of those who had been his closest friends. -Following a speech he had delivered at one of the reunions of -Confederate veterans in which he urged his comrades at least to meet -half-way the overtures of friendliness from the North, he had been -denounced from the floor of the convention as a "Yankee-lover," and -threatened with violence. Judge Stevenson with flashing eye and -belligerent manner had jumped to his feet, offered to fight any man, -or any ten men, who thought him guilty of treachery to the cause of -the Confederacy, and when none accepted the challenge, denounced -them as cowards and quit the convention. - -He had hoped that, with the passing on, one by one, of the -unreconstructed veterans of the Confederacy, a newer and less -embittered generation, with no personal memories of the gall of -defeat, would right things. Instead had come the rise of the poor -whites with none of the culture and refinement of the old Southern -aristocracy, a nation of petty minds and morals, vindictive, -vicious, dishonest, and stupid. Lacking in nearly all the things -that made the old South, at least the upper crust of it, the most -civilized section of America at that time, he saw his friends and -all they stood for inundated by this flood of crudeness and -viciousness, until only a few remained left high and dry like bits -of wreckage from a foundered ship cast up on the shore to rot away, -while all around them raged this new regime, no longer poor in purse -but eternally impoverished in culture and civilizing influences. On -these the judge spat his contempt and he poured upon their -unconcerned heads the vials of his venom and wrath. - -The second devastating blow he suffered was the succumbing, one by -one, of his children to the new order. Nancy, his eldest daughter, -had run away from home and married a merchant whose wealth had been -gained through the petty thievery of padding accounts and other -sharp practices on poorer whites and Negroes. Mary Ann, his other -daughter, whom he loved above all others of his children, had fallen -victim to an unfortunate love affair with a dashing but worthless -son of their next-door neighbour. She had died in giving birth to -her child, which, fortunately, the judge thought, had been born -dead. His son had "gone in for politics." He had been successful, as -success was measured by the present-day South, but in his father's -eyes, judged by the uncompromising standards of that member of an -older and nobler generation, he had sunk to levels of infamy from -which he could never recover. - -The crowning misfortune dealt the judge by an unkind fate was the -loss of his gentle, kindly wife. She had uncomplainingly borne their -misfortunes one after another, had calmed and soothed her husband's -irascible tantrums, had been a haven to which he could come and find -repose when buffeted by a world which he did not and could not -understand. As long as she lived, he had been able to bear up -despite the bitter disappointments life had dealt him. He had gone -away to try a case in a near-by county, had returned after a two -days' absence and found her with a severe cold and fever. - -For three weeks he did not leave her bedside, drove away in anger -the trained nurse Dr. Bennett brought to the house, ministered -gently to his wife's every need, and held her in his arms as she -breathed her last breath. Frantic at this last and most crushing -blow, he cursed the doctor, though Dr. Bennett had done all he could -in his bungling way, cursed God, cursed everything and everybody he -could think of in his grief. He never recovered from this loss. His -hair rapidly became white, he neglected his profession and sat by -the hour, his eyes half closed, dreaming of his dead wife. … - -Had he chosen to adapt himself to the new order, he could have made -money. This, however, he refused to do. He boasted proudly that -never had he cheated any man or been a party to any transaction from -which he emerged with any stain on his honour. Friend he was to all -in his gentle, kindly manner—a relic of a day that had passed. … - -He started, roused from one of his usual reveries, when Kenneth -knocked on the open door. The gentle breezes of late spring stirred -the mane of white hair as he brought his chair to the floor with a -thump. - -"Come in, Ken, come right in." He welcomed Kenneth heartily, though -in accordance with the Southern custom he did not offer to shake -hands with his visitor. "How's your maw? Heard you're doing right -well since you been back. Mighty glad to hear it, because yo' daddy -set a heap by you." - -Kenneth assured him he was progressing fairly well, told him his -mother was well, and answered the innumerable questions the judge -asked him. He knew that these were inevitable and must be answered -before the judge would talk on any matter of business. After a few -minutes of the desultory and perfunctory questions and answers, -Kenneth told, when asked, the purpose of his visit. Chair tilted -back again, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, fingers placed -end to end, and his chin resting on the natural bridge thus formed, -the judge listened to Kenneth's recital of his plan without comment -other than an occasional non-committal grunt. - -"… And what I would like from you, Judge Stevenson, is, first, do -you think the plan will work, and, second, will you draw up the -articles of incorporation and whatever other legal papers we need?" -Kenneth ended. As an afterthought he added: - -"You see, we want to do the job legally and above board, so there -won't be any misunderstanding of our motives." - -For a long time Judge Stevenson said nothing, nor did he give any -indication that he was aware Kenneth had stopped speaking. In fact -he seemed oblivious even of Kenneth's presence. Knowing better than -to interrupt him, Kenneth awaited somewhat anxiously the judge's -opinion. When the silence had lasted nearly five minutes, a vague -alarm began to creep over Kenneth. Suppose the judge wasn't as -friendly towards coloured people as he had supposed? A word from him -could start serious trouble before they got started. He wondered if -he had acted wisely in revealing so much of their plans. He felt -sure he had done wrong when he saw a look of what appeared to be -anger pass over the judge's face. - -At last the old lawyer cleared his throat, his usual preliminary to -speech. But when he did talk he began on another subject. - -"What're the folks out your way saying about these Kluxers? Any of -you getting worried about these fools parading 'round like a bunch -of damn fools?" - -"To tell you the truth, Judge, I don't really know yet what the -coloured people are thinking." He felt that on this subject he could -speak frankly to the judge, as he was too sensible a man to take -much stock in the antics of the Klan. Yet, he was not too -sure—coloured people must always keep a careful watch on their -tongues when talking to white people in the South. - -"You ain't getting scared out there, are you?" the judge pressed the -point. - -"No, I wouldn't call it scared. Most of those with whom I've talked -don't want any trouble with anybody—they want to attend to their own -business and be let alone. But if they are attacked, I'm afraid -there will be considerable trouble and somebody will get hurt." He -paused, then went on: "And that somebody won't be entirely composed -of Negroes, either." - -"I reckon you're right, Ken. These fools don't know they're playing -with dynamite." His voice took on a querulous tone. "We've been -getting along all right here, ‘cept when some of these po' whites -out of the mill or from the tu'pentine camps or some bad nigras tank -up on bad liquor or moonshine." He did not say "Negro" nor yet the -opprobrious "nigger," but struck somewhere between the two—"nigra." -"And now these fools are just stirring up trouble Lord knows where -it'll end." - -He ran his hand through his hair—a favourite trick of his when -excited, and paced up and down the room. - -"I've been telling some of the boys they'd better stay away from -that fool business of gallivanting around with a pillow-slip over -their heads. They talk about being against bootleggers and men -runing around with loose women—humph!—every blamed bootlegger and -blind tiger and whoremaster in town rushed into the Klan 'cause they -know'd that was the only way they could keep from getting called up -on the carpet! A fine bunch they are!" - -The judge spat disgustedly. - -"Now about this plan you got—have you thought about the chances of -your being misunderstood? Suppose some of these ornery whites get it -into their heads you're trying to start trouble between the races. -What're you going to do then?" he asked. - -"That's just why we want to do the job right," answered Kenneth. "We -want to do everything legally so there can't be any wrong ideas -about the society. I know every time coloured people start forming -any kind of an organization besides a church or a burial society, -there are white people who begin to get suspicious and think that -Negroes are organizing to start some mischief. That's why we want -you and the other good white people to know all about our plans from -the start." - -"I ain't trying to discourage you none," replied Judge Stevenson -doubtfully, "but do you think you are wise in starting coloured -folks to thinking about organizing when this Klan's raising hell all -over the South?" - -"How else are we going to do anything?" asked Kenneth. "Farmers have -been robbed so long they are getting tired of it. If something isn't -done, there's going to be lots more trouble than a society like ours -can possibly cause. This share-cropping business causes more trouble -than any other thing that's done to Negroes. Lynching is mighty bad, -but after all only a few Negroes are lynched a year, while thousands -are robbed every year of their lives." - -"That's so. That's so," agreed the judge, but the doubt had not been -dispelled from his voice nor removed from his face. He removed his -cigar from his mouth, viewed its mangled appearance through much -chewing upon it, threw it with an expression of disgust out of the -window, narrowly missing a man passing in the street below. He -chuckled as he placed a fresh cigar in his mouth. - -"'Taint no harm in trying, though," he said, half to himself. - -"Besides, our plan is to enlist the support of every white man in -the county who stands for something," went on Kenneth, eager to gain -the old man as a staunch ally. "We know there'll be opposition from -some of the landlords and merchants and bankers who are making money -off this system, but we figure there are enough decent white people -here to help us through. …" - -"Mebbe so. Mebbe so," replied the judge, though there was a distinct -note of doubt in his voice now. "I wouldn't be too sure, though. I -wouldn't be too sure." - -"But, Judge⸺" interrupted Kenneth. The judge silenced him with a -movement of his hand. - -"Ken, have you ever thought out what a decent white man goes through -with in a town like Central City? Have you thought what he has to -put up with all over the South? There ain't a whole lot of them, but -just figure what'd happen to a white man to-day who tried to do -anything about cleaning up this rotten state of affairs we got here. -Why, he'd be run out of town, if he wasn't lynched!" - -"But, Judge," began Kenneth again, "take lynching, for example. You -know, and I know, and everybody in the South knows that if a Negro -is arrested charged with criminal assault on a white woman, if he's -guilty, there isn't one chance in a million of his going free. Why -don't they bring them to trial and execute them legally instead of -hanging and burning them?" - -"Why? Why?" The judge repeated the interrogative as though it were a -word he had never heard before. "You know, and so do I and all the -rest of us here in the South, that nine out of ten cases where these -trifling women holler and claim they been raped, they ain't been no -rape. They just got caught and they yelled rape to save their -reputations. And they lynch the nigra to hush the matter up." - -Kenneth was amazed at the old man. Not amazed at what he said, for -that is common knowledge in the South. He was astounded that even so -liberal a man as the judge should frankly admit that which is denied -in public but known to be true. He hesitated to press the inquiry -further, and thought it expedient to shift the conversation away -from such dangerous ground. - -"Why don't men like yourself speak out against the things you know -are wrong, Judge?". - -"What would happen to us if we did? Count me out ‘cause I'm so old I -couldn't do much. But take right here in Central City the men I've -talked with just like I'm talking to you. How many of them could say -what they really want to? I don't mean on the race question. I mean -on any question—religion, politics—oh—anything at all. Suppose Roy -Ewing or any other white man here said he was tired of voting the -Democratic ticket and was going to vote Republican or Socialist. -Suppose he decided he didn't believe in the Virgin Birth or that all -bad folks were burned eternally in a lake of fire and brimstone -after they died. If they didn't think he was crazy, they'd stop -trading with him and all the womenfolks would run from Roy's wife -and daughter like they had the smallpox. That's the hell of it, Ken. -These po' white trash stopped everybody from talking against -lynching nigras, and they've stopped us from talking about anything. -And far's I can see, things're getting worse every day." - -"Couldn't you organize those white people who think like you do?" -asked Kenneth. - -"No, that ain't much use either. It all goes back to the same -root—self-interest—how much is it going to cost me? I tell you, Ken, -the most tragic figure I know is the white man in the South who -wants to be decent. This here system of lynching and covering up -their lynching with lying has grown so big that any man who tries to -tackle it is beat befo' he starts. Specially in the little towns. -Now in Atlanta there's some folks can speak out and say most -anything they please, but here⸺" The old lawyer threw out his hands -in a gesture of hopelessness. - -"Why can't the South see where their course is leading them?" asked -Kenneth. "Suppose there wasn't a white man in the South who was -interested in the Negro. Suppose every white man hated every Negro -who lived. Why couldn't they see even then that they are doing more -harm to themselves than they could ever do to the Negro? With all -its rich natural resources, with its fertile soil and its wonderful -climate, the South is farther behind in civilization than any other -part of the United States—or the world, for that matter. Aren't they -ever going to see how they're hurting themselves by trying to keep -the Negro down?" - -"That's just it," replied the judge. "A man starts out practising -cheating in a petty way, and before he knows it he's crooked all the -way through. He starts being mean part of the time, and soon he's -mean all over. Or he tries being kind and decent, and he turns out -to be pretty decent. It's just like a man drinking liquor—first -thing he knows, he's liable to be drunk all the time." - -The judge shifted his cigar to a corner of his mouth and let fly a -stream of tobacco juice from the other corner, every drop landing -squarely in the box of sawdust some ten feet away. He went on: - -"That's just what's the matter with the South. She's been brutal and -tricky and deceitful so long in trying to keep the nigras down, she -couldn't be decent if she tried. If acting like this was going to -get them anywhere, there might be some reason in it all, but they've -shut their eyes, they refuse to see that nigras like you ain't going -to be handled like yo' daddy and folks like him were." - -"What are we going to do—what can we do?" asked Kenneth. Never had -he suspected that even so fine a man as Judge Stevenson had thought -things through as their conversation had indicated. He felt the -situation was not entirely hopeless when men like the judge felt and -talked as he did. Perhaps they were the leaven that would affect the -lump of ignorance and viciousness that was the South. - -"What are we going to do?" echoed the elder man. "God knows—I don't! -Mebbe the lid will blow off some day—then there would be hell to -pay! One thing's going to help, and that's nigras pulling up stakes -and going North. When some of these white folks begin to see their -fields going to seed, they'll begin to realize how much they need -the nigra—just like some of 'em are seeing already." - -"But are they seeing it in the right way?" asked Kenneth. "Instead -of trying to make things better so Negroes are willing to stay in -the South, they're trying more oppressive methods than ever before. -They're beating up labour agents, charging them a thousand dollars -for licences, lynching more Negroes, and robbing them more than -ever." - -"Oh, they'll be fools enough until the real pinch comes. Far's I can -see, instead of stopping nigras from going North, them things are -hurrying them up. Wait till it hits their pocket-books hard. Then -the white people'll get some sense." - -"Let's hope so," was Kenneth's rejoinder as he rose to go. "It's -been mighty comforting to talk like this with you, Judge. Things -don't seem so hopeless when we've got friends like you." - -"'Tain't nothing. Nothing at all," replied the judge. "Just like to -talk with somebody's got some sense. It's a pity you're coloured, -Ken, you got too much sense to be a nigra." - -Kenneth laughed. - -"From all we've been saying, a coloured man's got to have some sense -or else he's in a mighty poor fix nowadays." - -He did not resent the old man's remark, for he knew the judge could -not understand that he was much more contented as a member of a race -that was struggling upward than he would have been as one of that -race that expended most of its time and thought and energy in -exploiting and oppressing others. The judge followed him to the door -promising to draw up the necessary legal documents for the -co-operative society. When Kenneth broached the subject of payment, -the old man waved his hand again in protest. - -"Ain't got long to live, so's I got to do what little I can to help. -'Tain't much I can do, but I'll help all I can." - -Thanking him, Kenneth started to leave, but the judge recalled him -after he had reached the hallway. "Ken, just consider all I said as -between us. Can't tell what folks'd say if they knew I been running -on like this." - -There was almost a note of pleading in his voice. Kenneth assured -the judge their conversation would be treated as confidential. As he -walked home, he reflected on the anomalous position the judge and -men like him occupied, hemmed in, oppressed, afraid to call their -souls their own, creatures of the Frankenstein monster their own -people had created which seemed about to rise up and destroy its -creators. No, he said to himself, he would much rather be a Negro -with all his problems than be made a moral coward as the race -problem had made the white people of the South. - -The judge stood at the window, dim with the dust of many months, and -gazed at Kenneth's broad back as he swung down Lee Street. Long -after he had disappeared, the old man stood there, chewing on the -cigar which by now was a mangled mass of wet tobacco. At last he -turned away and resumed his seat in the comfortable old chair where -Kenneth had found him. He shook his head slowly, doubtfully, and -murmured, half to himself, half to the dusty, empty room: - -"Hope this thing turns out all right. Hope he don't get in no -trouble. But even if he does, there'll be more like him coming -on—and they got too much sense to stand for what nigras been made to -suffer. Lord, if we only had a few white folks who had some sense …" - -It was almost a prayer. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - -FROM Judge Stevenson's office Kenneth went directly to tell Jane of -the interview. So absorbed was he in contemplation of the wider -vision of the problem he was attacking which the judge's words had -given him, he forgot to telephone her to ask if it was agreeable for -him to call at so unconventional an hour. He found her clad in a -bungalow apron busily cleaning house and singing as she worked. - -They sat on the steps of the back porch while he told her all that -had been said. Taken out of his preoccupation with his own affairs, -Kenneth had shaken off his negative air and now he talked -convincingly of their plans. Jane said nothing until he had -finished. - -"That's fine!" she exclaimed when he had ended. "Even if Judge -Stevenson is doubtful of how much we can accomplish, we can do -something. Now all that remains is for you to present your plan⸺" - -"Not mine, yours," he corrected - -"No, it will have to be yours," she answered. "You know how folks -are in the South—they think all that women can do is cook and keep -house and bear children. If you want the thing to go, it'll be best -to make them think it's your scheme." - -Kenneth demurred, but in vain. She would have it no other way. She -felt no jealousy. She knew of the peculiar Southern prejudice which -relegated women to a position of eternal inferiority. Though she -felt the injustice of such arbitrary assumptions, she did not resent -it. Like all women, coloured women, she realized that most of the -spirit of revolt against the wrongs inflicted on her race had been -born in the breasts of coloured women. She knew, and in that -knowledge was content, that most of the work of the churches and -societies and other organizations which had done so much towards -welding the Negro into a racial unit had been done by women. It was -amusing to see men, vain creatures that they are, preen themselves -on what they had done. It was not so amusing when they, in their -pride, sought to belittle what the women had done and take all the -credit to themselves. Oh, well, what did it matter? The end was the -all-important thing—not the means. Jane appreciated Kenneth's -thoughtfulness and felt no tinge of jealousy if her idea—their -idea—should be a success in forming societies to help poor, helpless -Negroes out of the morass in which they were bogged. Of such -material has the coloured woman been made by adversity. - -She watched Kenneth as he told her the developments of which he had -thought, the details he had worked out. Each day, it seemed to her, -Kenneth became more keenly alive each day saw a brighter sparkle in -his eyes, a springiness in his step that had not been there before. -There are many men who could willingly have followed—and do -follow—without revolt or much inward conflict a course of -self-abnegation such as he had mapped out for himself. Not so, -however, with Kenneth. He was almost puritanical in his devotion to -the fixed moral code he had worked out for his own guidance. It was -not a superimposed one, but an integral part of his very being. -Nothing could have induced him to surrender to deliberate malice or -guile or what he considered dishonesty or cowardice. His was a -simple nature, free from the barnacles of pettiness which encumber -the average man. He was not essentially religious in the accepted -meaning of the word. He believed, though he had not thought much on -the subject of religion, so immersed had he been in his beloved -profession, in some sort of a God. Of what form or shape this being -was, he did not know. He had more or less accepted the beliefs his -environment had forced upon him. He doubted the malignity of the God -described by most of the ministers he had heard. As a matter of -fact, he was rather repelled and nauseated by the religion of the -modern Church. Narrow, intolerant of contrary opinion, prying into -the lives and affairs of its communicants with which it had no -concern, its energies concentrated on raising money and not on -saving souls, of little real help to intelligent people to enable -them to live more useful lives here on earth, and centering instead -on a mysterious and problematical life after death, he felt the -Church of Jesus Christ had so little of the spirit of the Christ -that he had little patience with it. He went to services more as a -perfunctory duty than through any deep-rooted belief that he could -get any real help from them in meeting the problems of life he -faced. He bore the Church no grudge or ill will—it simply was not a -factor in the life of to-day as he saw it. - -Nevertheless he had a deep religious or, better, an ethical sense. -When he was about to return to Central City, that ethical code had -been adapted to conditions he expected to find there. It was galling -to him to accept a position of subserviency to things he knew were -unjust and wrong, tacitly to admit his inferiority to men to whom he -knew he was superior in morals and training and in all the decencies -of life, solely because of the mere accident that they had been born -with skins which were white and he with one which was not white. -When doubts had assailed him, he had quieted or salved his -conscience by the constant reminder that he was following such a -course for greater eventual good. On his return, when he had found a -course such as he had charted for himself was becoming increasingly -difficult, he had refused to face the facts his mind told him were -true and had plunged more deeply into his work, seeking in it an -opiate. Only when Jane had confronted him with the utter futility of -his course and had, in effect, accused him of being a moral quitter -in considering only himself and blinding himself to the far greater -problems of those so closely bound to him by race, did his eyes -begin to be opened. Wearied of illusory hopes of peace through -compromise, he had grasped the tangible reality of work towards a -definite end, through means which he had created and which he would -guide and develop as far as he could. With the buoyant hopes and -ambitions of the young, especially of the very young, he felt that -he had already created that which he was hoping to create. - -Like a traveller who has lost his way in a dense forest, an -indefinable restlessness had pervaded his being and made him sorely -discontented. Now that he had found what seemed the path which would -lead him into the clear, open air, the clouds of doubt and -perplexity were cleared away just as the bright sun, as it bursts -forth after a shower in spring, drives away the moisture in the air. - -They sat there in the warm sunlight of early summer, dreaming and -planning all the great things they were going to accomplish. It had -rained earlier in the morning and from the ground rose a misty -vapour. The odour of warm wet earth mingled with the aroma of the -flowers. Hens scratched industriously for food to feed the cluster -of tiny chicks around them. A cat sneaking along the fence slyly -crept near. With a great fluttering of wings and raucous cackling, -the hens drove him away. From afar off came the voices of two women, -resting for a minute from their morning toil, gossiping with much -loud laughter. It was a peaceful, restful scene. To Kenneth as he -sat there, problems seemed remote and out of place in that place -where all was so calm. - -He looked at the girl by his side. It seemed Jane had never looked -more charming clad in her bungalow apron, dust-cloth in hand. He was -glad she had made no silly, conventional excuses because of her -dress. The usual girl would have tried to rush indoors and change -her dress. Most women, he reflected, looked like angels at night, -but in the harsh glare of morning looked terrible. Jane seemed to -him to be even prettier without powder or the soft light of evening. -He felt a thrill of pleasure as he saw her dusting furniture in -their home. - -They rose as Kenneth started to leave. Jane was telling him of some -trivial incident, but Kenneth heard nothing of what she said. He -turned towards her suddenly. - -She divined his intentions—she could almost feel the words that were -on his lips. Quickly wishing him success in the meeting to be held -that next evening, she bade him good-bye. - -After Kenneth had gone, Jane sat for some time struggling with the -problem she was facing. What was she to do? As a little girl she had -loved Kenneth with a simple, childlike love though he, with the -infinite difference of eight years of age, had paid no attention to -her. She was not at all sure now of the nature of her feelings -towards him. She liked him, it is true, but when it came to anything -deeper than that, she was not so certain. She had been told, and had -always believed, that love came as a blinding, searing, devastating -passion which swept everything before it. She felt none of this -passion and experienced no bit of that complete surrender which she -had believed was a part of the thing called love. Jane was much in -the position of the sinner on the mourner's bench who had been told -that when he became a Christian, angels and all sorts of heavenly -apparitions would miraculously appear before him, and, seeing none, -feels that he is being cheated. - -Jane had seen in Kenneth's eyes that soon he would make some sort of -declaration of his love. What was she going to say? She did not -know. … - -So pleasant had it been sitting there in the warm sunlight talking -with Jane, Kenneth had forgotten the time. Entering his office, he -found half a dozen patients waiting somewhat impatiently for him. As -he entered his private office, he heard old Mrs. Amos, in her -chronic quarrelsomeness, mutter: - -"Dat's just what I allus say. Soon's a nigger begin to get up in the -world, he thinks hisself better'n us po' folks. Thinks he can treat -us any way he please." - -Kenneth laughed and, with a few bantering words, mollified the -irascible old woman. The coloured doctor has to be a diplomat as -well as a physician—he must never allow the humblest of his patients -to gain the impression that he thinks himself better than they. Of -all races that make up the heterogenous populace of America, none is -more self-critical than the Negro—its often unjust and carping -criticism of those who stand out from the mass serves as an -excellent antidote for undue pride and conceit. … - -The next evening the seven men met again at Mr. Wilson's. Kenneth -stopped by for Mr. Phillips, but he did not see Jane. The Reverend -Stewart, Tucker, Tracy, Swann, and Mr. Wilson sat awaiting them. Tom -Tracy was exhibiting, somewhat proudly it seemed, a note he had -found tacked to his door that morning. It was crudely lettered in -red ink on a cheap-quality paper. It read: - - NIGGER! YOU'VE BEN TALKING TOO DAM MUCH! IF YOU DON'T SHUT YOUR - MOUTH WE WILL SHUT IT FOR YOU AND FOR GOOD! LET THIS BE A - WARNING TO YOU. NEXT TIME WE WILL ACT! - - K. K. K. - -Beneath the three initials was a crude skull and cross-bones. Though -all seven of the men knew that the warning was not to be -disregarded, that it might possibly portend a serious attempt on the -life of Tracy, that any or all of them present might receive a -similar grim reminder of the ill will of the hooded band, there was -a complete absence of fear as they sat around the table and -conjectured as to the possible result of the warning. The calmness -with which they accepted the omen of trouble would probably have -amazed the senders of the warning. Perhaps the clearest indication -of how little the South realizes the changes that have taken place -in the Negro is this recrudescence of the Klan. Where stark terror -followed in the wake of the Klan rides of the seventies, the net -result of similar rides to-day is a more determined union of Negroes -against all that the Klan stands for, tinctured with a mild -amusement at the Klan's grotesque antics. It was fortunate for -Kenneth, in a measure, that Tracy had received the threat on the day -it came. With such a reminder before them, the seven felt there was -greater need than ever before for organization for mutual -protection. - -They discussed means of protecting Tracy, but he assured them he was -amply able to take care of himself. He had sent his parents that day -to stay with friends until the trouble had blown over, telling them -nothing of the warning, as he did not want them to be worried by it. -Two of his friends had agreed to stay with him at night. He was well -supplied with ammunition and was sure the three of them could -successfully repel any attack that might be made upon him. Such -trying periods have happened to Negroes so frequently in the South -that they have become inured to them. The subject was soon dropped. - -Then Kenneth presented his plan. He outlined in detail how the -society should be organized. He proposed that the first lodge be -formed at Ashland, then gradually spread until there was a branch in -every section of the county. They left until later the problem of -extending the society's activities to other parts of Georgia and the -neighbouring States. Each member would be required to pay an -initiation fee of one dollar. Men would pay monthly dues of fifty -cents each, women twenty-five. The sums thus secured were to be -pooled. Half of the amount was to purchase supplies like sugar, -flour, shoes, clothing, fertilizer, seeds, farm implements, and the -other things needed to satisfy the simple wants of the members. To -make up any deficit, Kenneth and Mr. Phillips agreed to lend money -that the supplies might be purchased for cash, effecting thereby a -considerable saving. The other half was to be used as the nucleus of -a defence fund with which a test case might be made in the courts -when any member was unable to secure a fair settlement with his -landlord. - -Similarly were other details presented and discussed and adopted or -modified. A name had to be chosen. Kenneth would have preferred a -short, simple one, but here he was overruled. That it might appeal -to the simple, illiterate class to which most of the prospective -members belonged, a sonorous, impressive name was necessary. They -decided on "The National Negro Farmers' Co-operative and Protective -League." - -At first the plan was considered a bit too ambitious, but as Kenneth -warmed up to it in presenting it as simply and forcefully as he -could, the objections, one by one, were overcome. One change, -however, had to be made. It came from Hiram Tucker. - -"Ain't you figgerin' on havin' no signs and passwords and a grip -like dey have with de Odd Fellers and de Masons and de Knights of -Pythias?" he asked. - -"I didn't think that was necessary," replied Kenneth. - -"Well, lemme tell you somethin', son. Ef you figgers on gettin' a -big passel of these cullud folks 'round here to jine in with us, -you'll have t' have some ‘ficials with scrumptious names, and -passwords and grips. Dese here ign'ant folks needs somethin' like -dat to catch their 'magination. If you put dat in, they'll jine like -flies 'round molasses." - -Kenneth had hoped that the society would be run on a dignified and -intelligent basis, but he realized that Hiram Tucker might be right -after all. Most of the share-croppers were ignorant—at least, -illiterate. Mere show and pomp and colourful uniforms and -high-sounding names played a large part in their lives, which, after -all, wasn't so much a racial as a human trait. Hadn't the Ku Klux -Klan outdone, in absurdity of name and ceremony and dress, anything -that Negroes had ever even thought of? - -This question was disposed of, after more discussion, by the -adoption of Hiram Tucker's suggestion. Kenneth was appointed to work -out the details of organization, and the meeting adjourned. The -National Negro Farmer's Co-operative and Protective League had been -born. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - -THE days that followed were full of interest for Kenneth and Jane. -The constitution and bylaws were drafted and approved and sent to -Atlanta to be printed by a coloured printing firm. Judge Stevenson -prepared the articles of incorporation and did the necessary legal -work, still refusing any pay for his services. Kenneth had offered -to pay him out of his own pocket, but the judge told him: "Keep your -money, Ken, I c'n wait. I'm gettin' along in years now and I've been -hopin' that this problem that's cursin' the South would be settled -befo' I passed on. But what with these damn fool Kluxers kickin' up -hell 'round here, I don't know whether I'll see it or not. Your idea -may do some good—I don't know whether it will or not—but if I c'n -help, let me know." Kenneth thanked him and had been immeasurably -encouraged by the old man's attitude. - -As soon as the literature they had ordered was received, the first -meeting was called by Tucker and Tracy at Ashland. Jane and her -father drove out with Kenneth, who was to present the plan to the -group gathered. The meeting was held at a little wooden church, -whitewashed on the outside, and furnished within only with rude -benches. On the walls were one or two highly coloured lithographs of -religious subjects. The hall seated not more than two hundred and -was crowded to capacity. Even the windows were comfortably filled by -those unable to obtain a seat on the floor. The illumination was -furnished by four kerosene lamps attached to the walls, two on each -side. - -Hiram Tucker acted as chairman, while Tom Tracy took minutes of the -meeting. After a preliminary announcement of the purpose of the -gathering by the chairman, Kenneth was called upon to outline the -plan that had been proposed. At the outset, having had no experience -as a public speaker, he stumbled and faltered and knew not what to -do with his hands. After a few minutes he jammed them into the side -pockets of his coat and, warming to his subject, swung into a clear, -forceful, and convincing recital of the purpose and possibilities of -the co-operative societies. His enthusiasm became infectious. His -audience began to share his zeal. Humble and lowly folks, their -vision limited by the life they led, they had the feeling, as -Kenneth talked on, of having been face to face with a blank wall of -immeasurable height and impenetrable thickness. Under the spell of -his words they seemed to see the miraculous opening of a door in -this wall. Hope, which had been crushed to earth year after year by -disappointing settlements for their labour, began to mount. - -As for Kenneth, he had forgotten his self-imposed inhibitions and -prohibitions. Gone was the hesitation and doubt. He had seen a light -where he had thought there was no light. His voice rang true and -firm, and there was a look of eager earnestness on his face as the -pale, flickering light from the oil lamps illumined it. - -He finished with a flourish so dear to the hearts of coloured -audiences. It was what the old-style coloured preacher used to call -"de 'rousements." - -"You husbands and sons and brothers, three years ago you were called -on to fight for liberty and justice and democracy! Are you getting -it?" He was answered by a rousing "No!" "What are you going to do -about it?" he demanded. "Single-handed, you can do nothing! -Organized, you can strike a blow for freedom, not only for -yourselves but for countless generations of coloured children yet -unborn! No race in all history has ever had its liberties and rights -handed to it on a silver platter—such rights can come only when men -are willing to struggle and sacrifice and work and die, if need be, -to obtain them! I call on you here to-night to join in this movement -which shall in time strike from our hands and feet the shackles -which bind them, that we may move on as a race together to that -greater freedom which we have so long desired and which so long has -been denied us! Only slaves and cowards whine and beg! Men and women -stand true and firm and struggle onwards and upwards until they -reach their goal!" He paused impressively while the audience sat -mute. He looked over the assemblage for a full minute and then -demanded in a ringing voice: "What do you choose to be slaves or -men?" - -He sat down. A salvo of applause greeted him. A Daniel had arisen to -lead them! Kenneth took on a new importance and affection in the -eyes and minds of his hearers. He had heard their Macedonian cry and -answered it. - -As he mopped his brow, Kenneth felt that he had made a good -beginning, although he was a bit ashamed of having made so direct an -appeal at the end to emotion instead of to reason. At the same time -he knew that it had been necessary. "'Rousements" were absolutely -essential to awaken the response needed to get the co-operative -societies under way. Without them his humble audience might not have -been aroused to the point of action that was so necessary. - -Following Kenneth, Mr. Wilson made a stirring appeal to the crowd to -come forward and give their names if they wanted to join the newly -formed society. Those who had the money were urged to join at once. -At first, only a few came forward. Then they came in numbers until -around the table at which sat Secretary Tracy there was an excited, -chattering, milling throng. - -After the meeting Mr. Phillips accepted Mr. Wilson's invitation to -ride home in his car. Kenneth did not object—it enabled him to be -alone with Jane. They talked of the meeting as they walked to the -car. Jane gave Kenneth's hand a faint squeeze. "Oh, Kenneth, you -were splendid!" she declared. - -It was a perfect night—one created for making love. A soft light -filtered through the leaves of the trees, casting a lace-like shadow -on the earth. The air was soft and languorous, as it can be only on -a spring evening in the South, as soft and caressing as the touch of -a baby's hands. From near at hand came the mingled odour of -honeysuckle and cape jasmine and magnolia blossoms and roses. The -world seemed at peace. No sound disturbed the air save the -chattering and singing of a mockingbird, as lovely as the sob of -velvety, full-throated violins, and the voices, growing fainter and -fainter, of the crowd leaving the now deserted church. It would have -taken a much stronger man than Kenneth to resist the spell of so -perfect an evening. He was not mawkishly sentimental—rather he -detested the moon-calfish type of man who rolled his eyes and -whispered empty, silly compliments in the ear of whatever girl he -met. On the other hand, he was amazingly ignorant of women. As a -youngster he had been exceedingly chary of the little girls of the -neighbourhood, preferring to spend his time playing baseball or -shooting marbles. This shyness had never entirely left him. From his -youth on he had had but one strong passion in his life that passion -had possessed his every thought and in it was centred his every -ambition—his desire and determination to become a great surgeon. His -one serious venture into the realm of love-making had been the -affair with the girl in New York, but that had not taken a strong -enough hold upon him to leave much of a mark. So rapidly had it -begun and ended that he had had in it little experience in the great -American sport of "petting." It was thus easy for him to fall head -over heels in love with Jane, for she was, in fact, the first girl -in his life outside of his sister who had come into his life in more -than a casual way. - -Jane, on the other hand, had, innocently enough, flirted as every -pretty girl (and many who are not pretty) will do. She appreciated -Kenneth's fine qualities: he was capable, industrious, and handsome -in a way. He annoyed her at times by his almost bovine stupidity in -expressing his love. She naturally liked the idea of having the love -of a man who is naïve, who has not run the whole gamut of emotions -in affairs with other girls; yet, also naturally enough, she did -expect him to have at least some _savoir faire_, to be able to win -her with some degree of the finesse that every girl wants and -expects. She resented his business-like matter-of-factness in -seeking her—as coldly calculating, it seemed to her, as though he -were operating on one of his patients. In this she was doing him an -injustice. Underneath his surface placidity Kenneth's love had -become a raging flame—he cursed the shell of professional dignity -which had crossed over and become a part of himself. - -Thus they walked through the soft spring air, she wishing he would -do that which he in his ignorance felt would be the unwisest thing -he could attempt. Thus is life made up of paradoxical situations -where a word, a look, an otherwise insignificant gesture, would -clear away at one fell swoop mountainous clouds of doubt and -misunderstanding. - -Jane stood, one foot on the ground, the other on the step, her hand -resting on the opened door of the car. A faintly provocative smile -flitted over her face. Kenneth longed to seize this elusive, -seductive girl in his arms, press her close to him, and tell her of -his love. She wanted him to. Instead he steeled himself against -yielding to the impulse that almost overcame him, and helped her -with complete decorum into the car. … - -They did not say much on the way home. Jane bade him good night, he -thought somewhat coldly—as though she were vexed. He told her he was -leaving the next morning for Atlanta to operate on Mrs. Tucker. She -made no comment. He wondered as he drove home what he had done to -offend her. … - -As he neared the house, he suddenly remembered that he had promised -to look in on old Mrs. Amos, whose "rheumatics" had been giving her -considerable pain. It was charity work, as she would never be able -to pay him. She had sent for him several times during the day, but -he had been kept so busy he had had no time to go. He was annoyed at -himself for promising to call to see the quarrelsome old woman who -was far more dictatorial and exacting than most of the patients who -paid him promptly. With a muttered imprecation at being bothered -with her just after his annoying experience with Jane and her -inexplicable behaviour, he drove through the darkened streets to -Mrs. Amos' home. He found her sitting in a creaky rocking-chair. She -began immediately to pour maledictions on his head for neglecting -her all day. He answered her shortly, gave her her medicine, and -left. - -Carefully guiding the car through the gullies and holes in the -unpaved street, he set out for home. Nearing the corner of Harris -and State Streets, he heard a sound as of several automobiles. He -looked down Harris Street just in time to see three closed cars stop -suddenly at the corner. From one of them two white-robed figures -descended, lifting a large, black bundle that seemed exceedingly -heavy. This done, the figures jumped hurriedly into the car, and it -with the other two speeded away in the direction from which they had -come. - -Kenneth, his curiosity aroused, turned his car around and drove to -the spot to see what was going on. As he slowed his car at the -corner, a muffled groan came from the object lying there in the -street. Hastily getting down, he turned it over and in the -half-light found it to be the body of a human being. His hands felt -sticky. Holding them close to his face, he found them smeared with -tar. - -He got from his car a small flashlight. Going back to the inert -mass, he turned the ray of light on the body and found it to be that -of a naked woman, covered with tar yet warm to the touch. Between -the dabs of the sticky mess on the woman's back were long welts, -some of them bleeding, as though a heavy-thonged whip had been -applied with great force. The hair was dishevelled and in its -strands were bits of the melted tar. Kenneth experienced a feeling -of nausea at the revolting sight. The woman lay on her face. From -her mouth and nose there ran a stream of blood which already was -forming a little pool beneath her face that became bloody mud as it -mixed with the dust in the road. Seizing her by her left shoulder, -Kenneth half raised the body and turned his flashlight on the -woman's face. It was Nancy Ware, the wife of the Negro killed by -George Parker. Half carrying, half dragging the limp form, Kenneth -managed in some fashion to get Nancy to her own home a few doors -away. The door stood open as though Nancy had left it for a minute -to call on one of her neighbours. On the table in the front room, -there stood a lamp yet burning, the chimney blackened with the soot -caused by the wind blowing upon it. Beside the lamp lay a garment on -which Nancy had been sewing. - -Kenneth placed her on the bed and hurried next door to summon help. -His efforts were unsuccessful. He pounded on the door with both -fists, calling out in his excitement to the occupants to open up. -After what seemed an infinite delay, a window to the left of the -door cautiously opened and an inquiring voice wanted to know what -was the matter. Seeing who it was, the owner of the voice -disappeared and a minute later opened the door. Kenneth hastily told -what had happened, brushing aside a muttered excuse that the delay -in answering was due to the fact that "I didn' know but whut you -might ‘a' been the p'lice." - -On going back to Nancy's cottage, Kenneth gave her a restorative and -endeavoured to relieve her suffering. She began to revive after a -few minutes. In the meantime the neighbours called by Kenneth -arrived, and they removed as much as they could of the tar from -Nancy's body. Kenneth then examined her back, finding it covered -with long and ugly gashes that bled profusedly. He dressed them and -Nancy was arranged as comfortably as possible. He found himself so -tired after the hard work and excitement of the day and evening that -he was almost ready to drop in his tracks. At the same time he had -an uncontrollable desire to find out just what had happened to Nancy -Ware. He was almost certain the Ku Klux Klan had done it, but he -wanted to hear the story from Nancy's own lips. The neighbours had -gone, with the exception of an evil-looking, elderly woman who had -volunteered to remain with Nancy until morning. - -After the application of restoratives regularly for an hour, she -began to show signs of returning consciousness. Kenneth watched her -eagerly. Five minutes later her eyelids fluttered. She gave a low -moan—almost a whimper. Suddenly she cried out in the terror of -delirium: "Doan let ‘em whip me no mo'! Doan let 'em whip me no -mo?!" and writhed in her agony. She struggled to arise but Kenneth, -sitting by the side of the bed, managed with the aid of the other -woman to restrain Nancy and calm her. Afterwards she became more -rational. Her eyes opened. In them was a gleam of recognition of -Kenneth and he knew she was regaining consciousness. - -Another wait. Then, at Kenneth's questioning, she began to tell what -had happened. For weeks he had thought but little of her and the -tragedy that had taken place in this same house, other events having -crowded it out of his mind. - -"Doc, you won't let 'em get me again, will you?" she pleaded with a -whimper like a child's. Kenneth assured her he wouldn't. - -"Doc, I ain't done nuthin' t' them Kluxers. Hones' t' Gawd, I -ain't." Kenneth told her soothingly that he knew she hadn't. - -"I was jes' sittin' here tendin' to my own business when dey come a -rap on de do'. W'en I open de do', dere wuz two o; dem Kluxers -standin' dere—befo' I could holler dey grab me and put a rag in my -mouf." A shudder passed through her body as the terror came back to -her at the memory of what she had been through. - -"Dey put me in a automobile and ca'ied me way out yonder in de woods -by de fact'ry. Dey pull all my clo'es off me and den dey whip me -till I couldn' stan' up no mo'. Den dey tell me I been talkin' too -much. Doc, I ain't said a word t' nobdy ‘cept dat dey oughter do -somethin't that man George Parker for killin' my man Bud. … Den dey -po'ed tar all over me and kick me and spit on me some mo'. … Said I -oughter had mo' sense dan t' talk 'bout no white gemmen. -Oh—oh—oh—ain't dey nothin' to he'p us po' cullud fo'ks—ain't dey -nobody—ain't dey nobody?" - -It was just as Kenneth had suspected. Good God, and these were the -self-elected defenders of morals in the South! What if Nancy wasn't -all that she should have been?—whose was the greater fault—hers or -George Parker's? He could see him now in the bank—smug, a -hypocritical smile on his face, talking about what the white people -have got to do to stop these troublesome "niggers" from getting too -cheeky—about protecting "pure" Southern womanhood from attacks by -"black, burly brutes." And the Klan with all its boasted and -advertised chivalry—twenty or thirty strong men to beat up and -maltreat one lone woman, because she "talked too much" about the -brutal, cold-blooded murder of her husband! Kenneth's optimism over -the organization of the cooperative societies began to cool—in its -stead there came a blind, unreasoning hatred and furious rage -against the men who had done this deed to Nancy Ware. God, but he -would have given anything he owned to get them all together and kill -them one by one—slowly, with all the tortures he could devise! The -damned, cowardly devils! The filthy, smug-faced hypocrites! - -Nancy was resting easily Kenneth, shaken by the fury of his anger, -more devastating because he knew that he could do nothing but hurl -silent imprecations on the heads of those who had done this -deed—impotent because his skin was black and he lived in the -South—went home to roll and toss during the few hours of the night -which remained before he took the train to Atlanta. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - -IT seemed to Kenneth he had just fallen into a troubled slumber when -he was aroused by the tinkling of the telephone bell at the side of -his bed. It was Hiram Tucker. - -"Doc, I reck'n you won't have to go t' Atlanty today, after all. My -wife, she tol' me to tell you she's changed her min' ‘bout that -op'ration. … What's dat? … Naw, suh, she's kinder skeered she won' -wake up from dat chlo'form. … Yas, suh, yas, suh, I knows -‘rangements been made but, Doc, you ain't married, so you don't know -nuthin' ‘tall 'bout wimmenfolks. … Some day you'll learn dat when -dey says dey ain't gwine do somethin' dey's done sot dere minds on -not doing, dey ain't gwine t' do it. … Hello. … Hello. … Hello!" - -But Kenneth had hung up. He telephoned the local telegraph office to -send a wire to the hospital in Atlanta to cancel the arrangements he -had made for the operation on the following day, and tumbled back in -bed to sleep like a log until late in the morning. He was awakened -by Bob, who informed him that the reception room was half filled -with patients who were no longer patient at being kept waiting so -long. He arose reluctantly, his eyes still filled with sleep. Bob -leaned against the wall, hands in pockets, and looked at his brother -with a smile of amusement. Kenneth, not thoroughly awakened as yet, -paid no attention to him for a time, but at last noticed Bob's -smile. - -"Why this early morning humour? I've seen many 'possums with a more -engaging smile then the one that distorts your face now!" he -half-grumblingly, half-cheerfully observed. - -Bob but grinned the more at Kenneth's remark. - -"I was just thinking that if Jane could only get one glimpse of you -in the morning before breakfast, your chances would be mighty slim -with her." - -"Jane? What have my looks to do with her?" Kenneth retorted with -some heat, in a vain attempt to spar for time. - -Bob addressed the world in general, calling on it for some aid in -understanding this brother of his. - -"Jane?" he mimicked Kenneth's tone of surprise. "You talk like a -ten-year-old boy with his first love affair. Isn't he the innocent -one, though? Why, you poor maligned creature, everybody in Central -City who isn't blind knows that you are head over heels in love with -Jane Phillips. And," he added as an afterthought, "those who are -blind have been told it. But to return to my original observation, -if there was some means by which, with all propriety, all the girls -in the world who are in love could see, and be seen by, the poor -boobs with whom they are so infatuated, marriage-licence bureaus -would be closed that day, never to open again." This last with an -omniscient air of worldly wisdom that caused Kenneth to burst into a -roar of laughter, while Bob watched him, somewhat discomfited. - -"What're you laughing at?" he demanded in an aggrieved tone. Kenneth -laughed all the harder. "Why, you poor little innocent, you haven't -gotten rid of your pin feathers, and yet you are talking as though -you were a philosopher like Schopenhauer. You'd better wait until -you finish school and see something of the world. Then you can talk -a little—though only a little as you did just now. By the way, it's -about time for you to be planning for school this fall. Still -thinking about going back to Atlanta?" - -"I don't know what I want to do," was Bob's troubled rejoinder. -"I've seen too much of what's going on around this town since papa -died to be satisfied with school again. I've probably seen more of -the real sordidness and meanness and deviltry of this place since -I've been settling up papa's affairs than you'll see in five years. -At any rate, I hope you don't," he finished somewhat doubtfully. - -"Bob"—Kenneth walked over and put his arm around his brother's -shoulders—the trouble with you is that you're too darned sensitive. -I know things aren't all they ought to be around here, but we've got -to buckle down and make them that way. And perhaps I've seen more of -this deviltry than you think." - -He told Bob of what had happened to Nancy Ware the night before. A -long whistle of surprise escaped from Bob's lips. - -"And this happened right here in the coloured section?" he asked in -surprise. Kenneth nodded in assent. - -"I felt they were planning some mischief but I didn't think they -would have the nerve to come right here in ‘Darktown' and do it. I -wonder," he said musingly, "if that dirty little Jim Archer who said -those filthy things to Minnie Baxter that day is a member of the -Klan. I passed him on Lee Street this morning and he grinned at me -like a cat that has just eaten a fat mouse." - -"He may be," Kenneth replied. "Nancy Ware told me last night she -recognized the voices of Sheriff Parker and Henry Lane and George -Parker and two or three other prominent white people here." - -"That settles it," Bob answered determinedly. "When you first came -back here I thought you were foolish to do so after having been in -France. I said I was going to get out of this country as soon as I -could and live in France or Brazil or any old place where a man -isn't judged by the colour of his skin. But I've decided that I'd be -a coward if I did run away like that. Ken," he said in voice that -showed he had passed in spite of his years from childhood into the -more serious things of manhood, "I'm going to Harvard this fall. I'm -going to take whatever course I need to get into the law school. I'm -going to make myself the best lawyer they can turn out. And then I'm -coming back here to the South like you did and give my time to -fighting for my people!" - -Bob's eyes flashed. In them was a light of high resolve such a look -as might have shone in the eyes of Garibaldi or of Joan of Arc. - -Kenneth said nothing, but he gripped Bob's hand in his and there -passed between the two brothers a look of mutual understanding and -sympathy that was more potent and meaningful than words. - -Kenneth went down to attend to his patients and nothing more was -said of the incident between them. Bob took on a new interest in -life. His moodiness, his brooding over the constant irritations and -insults he had to suffer in his dealings as a coloured man with the -whites of the town, his resentment at the attitude of condescension -on the part of the poor and ignorant whites who had neither his -intelligence, his education, nor his wealth—all these disappeared in -his eager preparations for the new life he had mapped out for -himself. He already saw himself a powerful champion of his race and -he gloried in that vision with all of the impetuosity and idealistic -fervour of youth. - -As for Kenneth, he divided his time between his practice, Jane, and -the formation of more branches of the N.N.F.C.P.L. - -Kenneth knew there was nothing to be done towards the punishment of -the men who had so brutally beaten Nancy Ware. He knew that it would -even be unwise for him to talk too much about it. If Sheriff Parker -was himself a member of the Klan, reporting the outrage to him would -be in effect a serving of notice that he was meddling in the affairs -of the Klan which might bring disastrous results at a time when -Kenneth was most anxious to avoid such a complication, certainly -until the co-operative societies were well under way and actively -functioning. Much as he chafed under the restraint and at his own -impotence in the situation, Kenneth knew that his interference would -be a useless and foolhardy butting of his head against a stone wall. - -It occurred to him to tell what had happened to Judge. Stevenson. He -could be trusted and was as much opposed to the outlawry of the Klan -as Kenneth himself. The judge listened gravely to the end without -comment other than a question here and there. "That looks worse than -I thought," he said half to himself. "A few mo' cracks like that and -there'll be hell to pay ‘round here. But 'twon't do no good for you -t' meddle in it," he observed in answer to Kenneth's question as to -what he could do. "If Nancy's right about Bob Parker being in it, -your sayin' anything will only set them on you. You'd better go -ahead and get your societies on their feet and then you'll have -somethin' behin' you. Then you won't be playin' a lone hand." - -As for the coloured people, there were several days of excited -gossip over what had happened to Nancy Ware. There was not much to -go on, as she had been so frightened by her terrible experience that -she refused for once to talk. The only tangible effect was that -mysterious parcels marked with the names of household implements -began to arrive at the homes of the coloured people, but which -contained fire-arms and ammunition. There was also a noticeable -tightening of the lips and the development of a less cordial -relationship between white and black. Negroes, feeling that there -was no help they could expect from the law, felt that their backs -were being slowly pressed against the wall. Within a few hours the -old _esprit cordial_ between white and black had been wiped out. -Negroes who had been happy-go-lucky, care-free, and kindly in manner -began to talk among themselves of "dying fighting" if forced to the -limit. - -July came with all its heat. August passed with yet more heat. With -the coming of September there had been formed in Smith County alone -seven branch societies of the Co-operative and Protective League -with a membership of more than twelve hundred. Kenneth worked as one -inspired, one who knew neither heat nor cold, fatigue nor hunger. -During the day he was busy with his practice, but it mattered not -how busy he had been, he was always ready and willing to drive five, -ten, fifteen miles at night to aid in establishing new branches or -directing and guiding and advising those already established. - -The Ashland Branch, through the hard work of Hiram Tucker and Tom -Tracy, had enrolled three hundred and fifteen members. In its -treasury it had $657.85, to which it was constantly adding as new -members were enrolled. At a meeting held during the latter part of -August the members decided that they would forgo the purchasing of -their supplies in bulk that year but would use the money raised -towards prosecuting one of the cases of dishonest settlements when -the time came for such settlements, usually in December or January. -This step was decided upon after due and lengthy deliberation, as it -was felt that if they could end the cheating of the farmers through -court action, then these same farmers would have more money through -the settlement of their accounts for the present season and could -then begin the co-operative buying and distribution the following -year. - -News of the new society that was going to end the unsatisfactory -relations share-croppers had with their landlords spread rapidly -throughout the surrounding counties. Letters, crudely and -cumbersomely worded and with atrocious spelling, came to Kenneth and -often individuals came in person to ask that he come to their -counties to organize societies there. Kenneth was elated at this -sign of interest. He had expected a great deal of opposition from -the coloured farmers. Bickering and carping criticism there was -aplenty, but most of them regarded him as a new Moses to lead them -into the promised land of economic independence. Minor disputes over -authority in the local societies there were in abundance. But none -of them was hard to settle, for the members themselves were too -eager to get out of bondage to tolerate much petty politics and -selfishness on the part of their officers. - -As a loyal ally Kenneth learned to rely on Jane more and more. Often -she went with him to attend meetings and to talk to groups not yet -organized. While Kenneth talked to the men, Jane circulated among -the women, who were subtly flattered that one so daintily clad and -well educated should spend so much of her time and energy talking to -lowly ones like themselves. - -Her mother's health had not been of the best during the summer. That -had been throughout the summer her only worry. In August her mother -had suffered an attack of paralysis, her second one. Jane decided to -remain at home instead of going to Oberlin to resume her music. -Dr. Bennett had been dismissed and Kenneth was now treating -Mrs. Phillips. During her more serious illness in August, Jane often -sat on one side of her mother's bed until late in the night while -Kenneth sat on the other, ministering to the aged woman's wants. -There came a new and stronger feeling of companionship between the -two. Often Kenneth would look up suddenly and catch in Jane's eyes a -new tenderness. Without knowing what it meant, he felt a subtly -conveyed encouragement in them. - -He had, however, spoken no word of love to her, preferring to bide -his time until a propitious occasion arose. He had told her that he -loved her—had he not done so, she would have known—he was content to -wait until she could decide what she wanted to do. At times the task -was hard not to tell her again and again of his love. Often as she -sat by his side and talked of inconsequential things, he would again -be seized by that consuming impulse to sweep away all her objections -and demolish by the very violence of his love the obstacles that -held him back from possessing her. He found himself more and more -filled with a wonderment that bordered on dismay as he tried to -suppress this devastating longing with less success every time this -feeling came over him. He tried staying away from Jane. At first he -had seen her but once a week and that on Sunday evenings. Then he -began dropping by to see her on Wednesdays. Of late his visits had -numbered three and four a week. On those nights when he was away, he -was restless and irritable. This became so noticeable that Mamie -threatened jokingly one night to go over and beg Jane to marry -Kenneth or throw him down hard or anything that would make him less -like a bear around the house. She and Jane had become fast -friends—which pleased Kenneth not a little, as it meant that Jane -would be more frequently in the house than otherwise would have been -the case. - -As for Jane, in spite of herself, she found herself more and more -interested in Kenneth and the things he was doing. She found herself -eagerly looking forward to the evenings when he called. She wondered -if she were entirely honest in seeing so much of him. - -Why didn't Kenneth say something now? She felt rather annoyed at him -for being so considerate. With a woman's prerogative of -inconsistency, she resented his obeying so implicitly her demand -that he wait until she had made up her mind. Men were so silly—you -told them to do a thing and they went like fools and did it. Why -didn't he talk about something else besides his old co-operative -societies and the Ku Klux Klan and his old hospital and what that -old Judge Stevenson had said to him that day? Life is such a funny -thing. - -But Kenneth went along his way, not even suspecting what was going -on in Jane's mind. He was like the majority of men—wise in their own -minds but amazingly naïve and ignorant when they left the beaten -paths of everyday affairs. - -The end of the first week in September came. Bob had completed all -arrangements to leave the following week for Cambridge, there to -take his entrance examinations, after studying for them all summer. -Kenneth had written to an old friend there who had made the -necessary negotiations. Bob was an entirely new individual from the -one he had been when Kenneth had returned to Central City. His air -of moody resentment had been replaced by an eager earnestness to -begin the course he had planned for himself. The bond had grown -closer between him and Kenneth, and many hours they spent together -discussing and planning for the years to come. Often the two -brothers and Mamie, sometimes Mrs. Harper also, sat until far in the -night talking of the future. If Mamie felt saddened by the broader -and more active life her brothers were planning which she, as a -woman, was denied, it never showed on her face or in her voice. She -might have been married long before in fact, there had been three or -four men who wanted to marry her. None of them would she have. -Decent enough men they were. But she was unwilling to settle down to -the humdrum life of marriage with a man so far beneath her in -intelligence, in ideals, in education. Being a normal, warmhearted -human being, naturally she often pictured to herself what marriage -in Central City would be like. But, keenly sensitive and ambitious, -she shrank from marrying the type of men available, farmers, small -merchants, and the like—she shuddered when she visualized herself -bearing children to such a man to be brought up in a place like -Central City. She yearned for love and as steadfastly put it from -her. There are thousands of tragedies—for tragedy it is—like Mamie's -in the South, and the world knows it not. When Kenneth or Bob teased -her about marrying, she answered him with a brave and all-concealing -smile-all-concealing, that is, to masculine eyes. Only her mother -and Jane knew her secret, and their lips were sealed in the bond -which women seldom, if ever, break. … - -That night Jane looked better than Kenneth had ever seen her look -before. They seldom went out except for a short ride in his car. For -there was no place to which they could go. Central City boasted one -place of public amusement—the Idle Hour Moving Picture Palace. And -to that no Negro could go. Once they had admitted Negroes to the -gallery. None of the better element ever went, as they had to go -through a dark and foul-smelling alleyway to reach the entrance they -had to use. The type of Negroes whose pride permitted them to go -were so boisterous and laughed so loud that even they were soon -barred. - -As usual they sat on the vine-covered porch where a breath of cool -air was more likely to be had than in the parlour. That day he had -had one of his more frequently recurring spells when he felt that he -could not keep his promise a day longer to wait until Jane had made -up her mind. At first he had thought of telephoning her and saying -that he was ill or busy—any old excuse to stay away. But he wanted -to see her too much for that patent evasion. He would go over to see -her but would talk of nothing but business or co-operative -societies. That's it, he would keep in "safe" territory. But Jane -had never looked more lovely than on that particular night. -Kenneth's heart jumped as he greeted her after she had kept him -waiting just the right length of time. He likened her instinctively -to a flame-coloured flower of rare beauty. All of the suppressed -passion surged upward in him. He felt himself slipping. He turned -away to gain control of himself. Had he not done so, he would have -seen the swift look of disappointment on her face at his restraint. - -Keeping his eyes resolutely in front of him, he talked wearily and -wearisomely of the meeting he had attended the night before, of how -troublesome and irritating Mrs. Amos had been that day with her -rheumatism, of his having at last persuaded Mrs. Hiram Tucker to go -to Atlanta to have the operation she had so many times postponed. -Jane answered him abstractedly and in monosyllables. At last she -moved, almost with obvious meaning, to the canvas porch swing and -there rested against the pillows piled in one corner. And yet -Kenneth talked drearily on and on and on. He spoke at length of a -conversation he had had with Bob that morning—of how glad he was -that Bob was going away to school. Jane swung gently back and -forth—and said nothing. Mr. Phillips came out on the porch and -offered Kenneth a cigar, which he accepted and lighted. Mr. Phillips -sat down and talked garrulously while the two men smoked. Jane felt -that she could hardly keep from screaming. After what seemed an -hour, Mr. Phillips, his topics of conversation exhausted, and at a -sign from Jane that was not to be disregarded, rose heavily and -lumbered into the house again. - -Kenneth threw away the stump of his cigar. It had suddenly occurred -to him that Jane hadn't said very much for the past hour. He rose to -go. - -Jane sat silent as though unmindful of his having risen. He looked -closely at her. Tears of he knew not what stood in her eyes. He -dropped to the seat beside her, wondering what he had done to hurt -her so. "Jane, what's the matter?" he asked in a troubled voice. -"What have I done?" She looked at him. … He didn't know what -happened next. Suddenly he found her in his arms. He strained her to -him with all the passion he had been restraining for the months that -seemed like years. He kissed her hair. He mumbled incoherently, yet -with perfect understanding, to Jane, tender endearments. At length -she raised her face from where it had been buried on his chest, -gazed straight into his eyes. Their lips met in a long, clinging, -rapturous kiss. … - -"How long have you known?" he asked her. Men are such idiots—they -are never satisfied to take what comes to them—they must ask silly -and nonsensical questions. - -She told him. Of her long struggle, of her decision, of her -annoyance at his blindness. They talked eagerly until long past the -hour of ten. He heard Mr. Phillips moving chairs and dropping his -shoes—obvious hints that the time to go had long since passed. They -paid no attention to these danger signals but laughed softly to -themselves. - -Everything must end eventually. Kenneth walked homewards through the -soft light of the September moon. Amusedly, the phrase "walking on -air" occurred to him. He laughed aloud. "Walking on air" was as the -rheumatic stumping along of old Mrs. Amos compared to the way he -felt. … - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - -IT was the next night. In the gully on the road leading from that -one out of Central City which went northward, there was being held a -hastily called meeting of Central City Klan, Knights of the Ku Klux -Klan, Realm of Georgia. Before, there had been three hundred robed -figures. To-night, three months later, the popularity of organized -intolerance was attested to by the presence of fully five hundred. -What had happened to Nancy Ware had acted as a powerful incentive to -the recruiting of new converts. It was mighty fine to have a strong -and powerful organization to shut mouths of those who talked too -much about the night-time deeds of loyal Klansmen. And, by gum, if -you're doing anything you don't want known or stopped, you'd better -be on the inside. - -A figure whose arms waved excitedly as he talked was haranguing the -crowd, which paid close attention to him. Had Tom Tracy been there, -he would certainly have recognized the voice of the speaker. Ed -Stewart's wife, had she been there, would also have recognized it -and dragged the speaker home by force had he resisted. - -"White civilization in the South is tottering on its throne!" he -shouted. "We who hold in our hands the future of civilization have -been asleep! While we have gone about our ways, the damn niggers are -plottin' to kill us all in our beds! Right now they're bringing into -our fair city great passels of guns and ammunition marked ‘sewin' -m'chines' and ‘ploughs'! They're meetin' ev'ry night in these nigger -churches all over the county and they're plottin' an' plannin' to -kill ev'ry white man, woman an' chile in this county and take the -lan' for themselves! They're led by a damn nigger doctor right here -in Central City named Harper! I know it's so, ‘cause another nigger -doctor named Williams tol' me yestiddy mornin' all about it and said -that this nigger Harper was leadin' this vile plot! He's been goin' -all over the county stirrin' up the damn niggers and incitin' them -to murder all of us! What're you men goin' to do?" he challenged in -a voice that shrilled in pretended rage and terror. - -A deep-throated roar answered him. Cries of "Kill the bastards!" -"Lynch 'em!" "Kill every black bastard befo' mornin!" It was the -age-long voice of the mob bent on murder—the pack in full cry. But -it was more than the voice of the mob of the Roman Colosseum, for -that ancient cry was one of pleasure at the death of a single -Christian. This was the shout of those intent on a wild, murderous -rampage that spared neither man, woman, nor child. - -"Klansmen!" - -A voice like that of a bull roared until the tumult had subsided. It -was the Exalted Cyclops of the Central City Klan. He stood in -silence until the group of hooded figures was still. - -"The noble order of the Ku Klux Klan don't handle situations such as -this like a mob!" The figures stood expectantly, eagerly waiting to -hear what would come next. - -"We have listened to the story told by our fellow Klansmen. Hol' -yo'se'ves ready for the call of the Invisible Empire at any minute. -We have planned the way to en' this dastardly plot and to punish -those responsible with death!" - -"That's right! Kill ‘em! Lynch 'em! Burn th' bastards!" shouted the -crowd. - -"That'll be done till ev'ry one is killed!" promised the Exalted -Cyclops. "But it can't be done so's it can be laid to our noble -order! Already our enemies are charging us with crimes! The Fed'ral -Gov'nment will be down on our heads!" - -There were cries of "Damn the Gov'nment!" from some of the more -hot-headed. But calmer judgment prevailed. Something was to be done, -but what that ominous "something" might be, was not revealed. Each -man was to be ready for instantaneous duty upon call of the Klan. -Immediate action was not wise, for the Klan investigators had not -completed their work. Action must wait until that had been done, for -it was essential that not one of the plotters should escape. - -This last point was emphasized. At last the crowd became more calm -with the determination to postpone its vengeance until it was -certain of being complete. It then dispersed its several ways, -dissolving into separate groups that talked excitedly of the -astounding and terrifying news, the need of prompt action, the great -luck the white folks had had in discovering the plot so soon, -violent denunciation of the Negroes in the plot. - -In one of the groups the conversation was different. One of the -group was the Exalted Cyclops, in private life Sheriff Bob Parker; -another was the Kligrapp, otherwise Henry Lane, Commissioner of -Health; the third was the speaker who had revealed the plot, Ed -Stewart, Tom Tracy's landlord. - -Sheriff Parker chuckled softly. "Well, Ed, looks like somethin' is -about to break loose, eh?" he observed. - -"Yep, I reck'n you're right. Them damn niggers've got a hell of a -nerve! Formin' sassieties to ‘stop robbin' share-croppers'! When we -get through with 'em, they'll be formin' coal-shov'lin' sassieties -in hell!" The other two joined in the laugh at his grim joke. "We'll -put in th' papers they was formin' to kill white folks and they'll -never know but what that ain't true." - -Parker laughed again. Waving his hand at the departing Klansmen, -there came to his face a cynical sneer. "An' them damn fools really -think they're sho'ly goin' to be murdered by the damn niggers!" - -In another section of Central City there was being enacted at the -same time another scene of poignant drama that threatened to -translate itself into tragedy. The place was a darkened bedroom in -the home of Roy Ewing on Georgia Avenue, and the actors in it were -four in number. Roy Ewing, owner and manager of the Ewing General -Merchandise Store, whom Kenneth had seen but little since Ewing had -discontinued his nocturnal visits to Kenneth's office, was one of -the actors. His wife, whose face still bore evidences of a youthful -beauty that was fast fading, was a second. A third was old -Dr. Bennett, who sat by the bed, his hair dishevelled, his face -lined with perplexity and anxiety, as he apprehensively watched the -fourth actor in the drama, a girl of nineteen who was restlessly -tossing in pain on the bed. Row Ewing stood at the foot of the bed. -His wife sat on the other side uttering little snatches of phrases -of soothing sympathy which her daughter did not hear. - -Dr. Bennett was plainly worried and at a loss what to do to relieve -the torture Ewing's daughter was so clearly experiencing. He turned -to Ewing. "Roy, to tell you the truth, it don't seem like I can find -out what's the matter with Mary. When she had that first attack, I -thought she had appendicitis, but she ain't got no fever to speak -of, so it can't be her appendix that's botherin' her. Looks like t' -me she's got some sort of bleedin' inside, but I can't tell." - -Ewing and his wife looked anxiously first at their daughter, then -interrogatively and pleadingly at the old physician as he watched -the sufferer in her contortions of pain and agony. Mary, married two -months and her husband working in Atlanta, had lived with her -parents after a short honeymoon. She had her mother's beauty—that -is, the delicate, patrician, statuesque charm that had been her -mother's when Roy Ewing had courted and won her two decades ago in -Charleston, South Carolina. It was not the harsh-lined, blonde -beauty of Georgia but the fragile old-world, French loveliness of -that spot in South Carolina where French tradition and customs and -features had not yet been barbarized by the infusion of that -Anglo-Saxon blood which is the boast of the South. She lay there, a -pitiful sight. Her face was pale, covered with cold, clammy -perspiration; all blood had fled from it. She breathed with great -difficulty in short and laboured respiratory efforts. Her pulse was -failing, very rapid and thready; at times it was barely perceptible. -She had been seized with the attack around seven o'clock, when she -began vomiting. Now she appeared to be so weakened with the pain she -had endured that a state of coma was obviously fast approaching. At -least it seemed so. Dr. Bennett tried to revive her, but with little -success. The absence of fever puzzled him. He feared an internal -hæmorrhage—all signs pointed to such a condition—yet he did not -know. Roy Ewing and his wife were among his closest friends. He -would have tried an operation had they not been. That he feared to -risk with their daughter. Yet, what could he do? Mary was obviously -so weak that he knew she could not be moved to Atlanta, three -hundred miles away. Nor would a physician be able to get to Central -City in time to operate. - -"I'm puzzled, Roy, mighty puzzled," he said, turning to Ewing. "I -might as well tell you the truth. Looks like t' me she c'n hardly -last till mornin'." It was gall and wormwood for him to admit his -impotency, but he did it. - -"Dr. Bennett, you've got to do somethin'! You've got to! You've got -to!" - -It was Mrs. Ewing who cried out in her agony—the piteous cry of a -mother who sees her first-born dying before her eyes. Her face was -as blanched as Mary's—every drop of blood seemed to have been -drained from it. She looked pleadingly at him, chill terror gripping -her heart as she realized from his words that her Mary, who had been -so happy and well that morning, was about to die. - -"If you—all wasn't such good friends of mine, I'd try it anyhow," -Dr. Bennett answered her, his voice as agonized as hers. "But I'm -skeered to op'rate or do anythin' that might hasten her on." - -Ewing walked over to the doctor, grasped the older man's shoulders -so fiercely that he winced in pain. - -"By God," he shouted at Dr. Bennett, "you've got to operate! I can't -see my little Mary die right here befo' my eyes! Go ahead and do -what you think best. It'll be better'n seein' her die while we stand -here doin' nothin'!". - -"Roy," Dr. Bennett groaned, "you know there ain't anythin' I -wouldn't do for you—'cept this." He waved his hand vaguely towards -the bed. As he did so, he looked with keen appraisement at Ewing in -the dim light. He seemed to be debating in his mind whether or not -he dared take a very long chance. If the chance would not be more -disastrous. If Mary's life might not be better lost than that! Ewing -almost stopped breathing as he saw the momentary indecision in the -physician's face. Mrs. Ewing saw none of this by-play, for she had -sunk down on the bed, where her body was shaken with the sobs she -could not restrain. - -"There's jus' one chance t' save her," Dr. Bennett hesitatingly -began. Ewing leaned forward in his eagerness. - -"There's jus' this one hope," Dr. Bennett repeated, "but I don't -know if you'd be willin' to take that chance." - -"I don't give a damn what it is!" Ewing shouted in his anxiety. -"I'll take it! What is it, Doc? I don't care what it costs! What is -it?" He quivered as with a chill in his excitement—the excitement of -the drowning man who sees a possible rescuer as he is about to go -down for the third time. Mrs. Ewing had stopped crying—she seemed as -though she had forgotten to breathe. They both waited eagerly for -the older man to speak. At last he did. He paused after each word. - -"Th'only—man—I know—near enough—to op'rate—in -time—is—a—nigger-doctor—here—named—Harper!" - -"Oh, my God!" groaned Ewing as he sank to his knees beside the bed -and buried his face in his hands. "A nigger—seein' my Mary—operatin' -on her—Good God! I'd rather see her dead than have a nigger put his -hands on her! No! No! No!" He fairly screamed the last in his fury. - -"I didn't think you'd do it," said Dr. Bennett miserably. "I jus' -felt I oughter tell you. He's jus' out of school—studied in one of -the bes' schools up No'th—and in France. He might save Mary—but I -can't blame you none for not havin' him." - -While he was speaking, Ewing jumped to his feet and paced up and -down the room like a caged and wounded tiger. On the one hand was -the life of his daughter—on the other his inherent, acquired, -environmental prejudice. None but those who know intimately the -depth and passion of that prejudice as it flourishes in the South -can know what torture what a hell—what agony Ewing was going -through. Prejudice under almost any circumstances is hard enough to -bear—in Ewing's case his very soul was tormented at such an -unheard-of thing as a Negro operating on his daughter. - -"Roy!" - -He turned abruptly at the sound of his wife's voice, having -forgotten for the time everything—wife, surroundings, all—as he -struggled with the problem he faced. - -"Roy!" Her voice was weak because of the ordeal through which she -was passing. She ran to him, seizing his arm and looking up at him -pleadingly. - -"Roy! I can't see our Mary die! I can't let her die!" - -"Would you have a nigger see her naked?" he demanded of her -fiercely. "Would you? Would you?" - -Her head went back sharply at the roughness of his tone. In her eyes -flashed that brilliant, burning look of mother love that submits to -no dangers, no obstacles. - -"I'd do anything to save her!" she cried. - -"No, no, Mary," Ewing pleaded, "we can't do that! We can't!" - -She did not hear him. Brushing past him, she caught Dr. Bennett by -the arm as he rose to his feet. "Get that doctor here quick!" she -demanded of him. … - -When Dr. Bennett telephoned him to come to Roy Ewing's home as -quickly as he could, Kenneth was somewhat puzzled. He went at once, -deciding that one of the servants was sick. When told that it was -Mary Ewing he was to treat, he could not conceal his amazement. He -followed Roy Ewing and the doctor to her room, the while he was -trying to make himself realize that he, Kenneth Harper, a Negro -doctor, had been called to treat a white person—a white woman—in the -South. Reaching the bedside, though, he put aside his bewilderment -and began at once the diagnosis to discover what the trouble was. He -listened without speaking to Dr. Bennett as the old man told him the -symptoms Mary had shown and what he thought was the matter. Ewing -was sent from the room. Kenneth rapidly examined the patient—and -decided that she was having severe internal hæmorrhages. It looked -like an acute and dangerous case. - -Immediate operation seemed the only hope. And even that hope was a -slim one. He informed Dr. Bennett of his diagnosis. - -Ewing was summoned. Briefly Kenneth told him his theory of the -trouble—that the only hope was immediate operation. Ewing faltered, -hesitated, seemed about to refuse to allow it. At that moment a loud -scream of pain was wrung from Mary's lips. He winced as though he -had been struck. He shrugged his shoulders in assent to the -operation. … - -Kenneth telephoned Mrs. Johnson, the nurse who had helped him -before, to be ready to go with him for an operation in ten minutes. -He drove rapidly home, secured his instruments, ether, sterilizer, -gown and other equipment, bundled them into his car, called for -Mrs. Johnson, explaining briefly to her the nature of the case as he -drove as rapidly as he could to the Ewing home. - -Mary was carried downstairs and placed on the dining-room table. -Dr. Bennett agreed to give the anæsthesic. Kenneth went rapidly, yet -surely, to work. In his element now, he forgot time, place, the -unusual circumstances, and everything else. Swiftly he began the -delicate and perilous task as soon as Dr. Bennett had sufficiently -etherized the patient. Yet, even in the stress of the moment, he -could not keep down the ironical thoughts that crept to his brain in -spite of all efforts to bar them. The South's a funny place, he -mused. Must have been a mighty hard thing for old Bennett to have to -admit that he, a Negro, knew more about operating in a case like -this than he did himself. Roy Ewing must have had a bad half-hour -deciding whether or not he'd let a Negro do the operation on his -daughter. Hope nothing goes wrong—if it does, might as well pick out -some other town to go to. Oh, well, won't let that worry me. Have to -make the best of it—save her if possible. - -Weakened by the severe hæmorrhages she had been having, Mary was in -a condition of extreme shock. The least slip, Kenneth realized, and -nothing could save her. Her face wan and drawn, Mary's life hung -precariously in the balance—the odds were all against her while the -grim spectre of death crept slowly but surely upon her. - -Beads of perspiration stood upon Kenneth's brow as he fought for her -life. Though he could not have done the operation himself, -Dr. Bennett sensed the gravity of the situation. The older man -leaned forward in his anxiety—hardly daring to breathe for fear of -interrupting the deft, sure touch of the operator. -Ten—fifteen—twenty—thirty—forty—fifty minutes crept by on lagging -feet—to the two doctors and the nurse each minute seemed an hour. - -Despite all his efforts, Kenneth knew Mary was rapidly sinking. The -loss of blood and strength, the severity of the shock, the -enervating spasms of pain she had suffered, had sapped her strength -until all resistive power was gone. Kenneth knew that Dr. Bennett -knew this too—even in the desperate struggle he wondered what the -other would say and do—if the girl died. He tried to shake off the -fear that seized him—fear of what would happen if it became known -among the whites that Mary Ewing had died while a Negro was -operating on her. No mortal could have done more. Even were that -known and admitted, it would not save him, Kenneth knew. - -The tense situation became too much for him. When he should have -been steadiest, the double strain on his nerves caused his hand to -slip. Blood spurted forth. Kenneth feverishly caught the bleeding -artery with a hæmostatic and sought to repair the damage he had -done. - -"Tough luck," muttered Dr. Bennett. Kenneth looked up at him. The -older man grunted and smiled encouragingly. A burden seemed lifted -from Kenneth's shoulders. Mrs. Johnson wiped the perspiration that -streamed from Kenneth's face. She seemed endowed with a sixth sense -that told her his needs almost before he was aware of them himself. - -It was a strange sight. Anywhere in America. In Georgia it was -amazing beyond belief. A white woman patient. A white anæsthetizer. -A black nurse. A black surgeon. … - -All things must come to an end. Kenneth rapidly sewed up the -incision. He bandaged the wound tightly. She yet breathed. - -Kenneth opened the door and admitted Ewing, who had paced the hall -since the operation began. Every minute of the hour he had been -there, he had had to fight hard to keep himself from bursting into -the room and stopping the operation. He had been restrained by the -positiveness with which he had been ejected from the room by -Kenneth—there was something in the physician's air that had warned -him without words that he must not interfere. Something within him -told him Kenneth was right—knew what he was doing. The colour and -race of the surgeon had been almost forgotten in the strange -circumstances. "Will she live?" he asked, his words whispered in so -hoarse a tone they could hardly be heard. - -"I don't know—it'll be forty-eight hours before we can tell—if she -lives that long," answered Kenneth. The strain had been greater than -he had known. Kenneth felt a strange weakening—lassitude gripped his -body—he felt a nausea that came with the reaction after the mental -ordeal. Ewing stood by the table on which lay his child. Tears which -he forgot to wipe away stood in his eyes as he watched her laboured -breathing. Dr. Bennett put his hand on Ewing's shoulder. - -"He did all he could!" he declared, nodding at Kenneth. There was -admiration in the old doctor's voice. - -Ewing rushed off to give the news to his wife. … - -The three men carried the unconscious form to her room. With a short -"Good night" to Dr. Bennett, Kenneth left the house with -Mrs. Johnson and drove away. … - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - -THE following day Kenneth was kept busy arranging his affairs in -order to leave the following morning for Atlanta for the operation -on Mrs. Tucker. It had been a most difficult task for him to -persuade her to have it done. He had been at last successful when he -made her realize that it would mean either the operation or death. -She dreaded the trip to Atlanta but Kenneth refused to perform the -operation except at a hospital and there was none nearer than -Atlanta at which a Negro could operate. - -During the day he had been kept so busy that he had not had time to -go out of the coloured section except once, and that when in the -late afternoon he drove through Lee Street to see how Mary Ewing was -faring. He had been so busy with his own thoughts that he had paid -little attention to the whites who were standing around on the -streets. He did not see the threatening and hostile looks they gave -nor did he notice the excited whispering and muttering when he came -into their sight. - -Ed Stewart had partly told the truth at the meeting of the Klan when -he said that Dr. Williams had informed him of the organization -Kenneth and the others were forming. Kenneth had seen little of the -pompous and intensely jealous physician since the time when he had -forced Dr. Williams to assist him in the appendicitis operation on -Mrs. Emma Bradley. Kenneth had felt nothing but an amused contempt -for his fellow-practitioner, for he knew that Dr. Williams covered -his deficiencies in medical knowledge and skill with the bombastic -and self-important air he affected. - -Dr. Williams, on the other hand, had never forgiven Kenneth for the -incident in which Kenneth had shown him up in a manner that injured -the former's pride far more than Kenneth had suspected. Dr. Williams -felt that the younger man had deliberately and with malice -aforethought offered a gratuitous insult to him as dean of the -coloured medical profession of Central City, though that profession -numbered but two members. Kenneth's success as a physician in -Central City, having taken as he had some of the best of -Dr. Williams' own patients whom he had considered peculiarly his -own, the insult plus Kenneth's success had rankled in his breast -until, being of a petty and mean disposition, he hated the younger -man with a deep and vindictive hatred. - -He had not, however, intended that his conversation with Ed Stewart -should assume the proportions that it eventually did. On the day -before the meeting of the Klan at which Kenneth had been named as -the one responsible for the organization of the Negroes, -Dr. Williams had met Ed Stewart driving out along a country road -near Ashland. Williams was returning from making a professional call -in that neighbourhood. Stewart, a big, raw-boned, and lanky -"Cracker" or "Peck," as they are called by Negroes in the South, was -going to inspect the cotton crops of his tenant-farmers, that he -might estimate how big the crops would be and might know accordingly -how large the tenants' bills should be for supplies furnished. - -They had stopped to pass the time of day and for Stewart to find -which of the Negroes on his place was sick. He wanted to know if -that sick one was too sick to work the crop, as the loss of even one -worker during cotton-picking time was serious, what with the number -of Negroes who had gone North. Having gained the information, he -started to question Dr. Williams in a way that he thought was -exceedingly adroit and clever, but through which ruse the coloured -doctor saw instantly and clearly. - -"Say, Doc, you know anything ‘bout these niggers 'round here holdin' -these meetin's nearly ev'ry night? Seems t' me it's mighty late for -them to be holdin' revival services and indo' camp-meetin's?" he -queried in as casual a tone as he could manage. - -An idea sprang full-grown to Williams' mind. Kenneth Harper was -getting far too popular through the organization of his co-operative -societies. Williams was shrewd enough to see that if they were as -successful as they gave promise of being, Kenneth would be the -leading Negro of the town, if not of that entire section of Georgia. -And correspondingly he, Williams, would become less and less the -prominent figure he had been before Kenneth had come back from -France to Central City. That was it! Stewart was one of the biggest -planters in Smith County. It was also rumoured he was prominent in -the Ku Klux Klan. Stewart's fortunes would be the hardest hit in the -county if Kenneth's societies achieved their purpose, for he, -Stewart, had as many share-croppers and tenant-farmers as any other -man in the county if not more. Stewart also had the reputation, a -long-standing one, of being the hardest taskmaster on his Negro -tenants in the county—the one who profited most through juggled -accounts and fraudulent dealings. He could have cut, had he chosen, -five notches in the handle of his gun, each one signifying a Negro -who had dared to dispute the justness of settlements for crops -raised. - -All these thoughts raced through Williams' brain while Stewart -waited for a reply to his questions. Williams had no intention of -the exaggeration of his statements which Stewart later made. He -merely intended that by telling Stewart of the societies, Kenneth's -rapidly increasing prominence in the community should receive a -check through obstacles which Stewart and his fellow-landlords might -put—in fact, were sure to put—in the way of success of the farmers' -organizations. - -"No, sir, they ain't holdin' revivals, Mr. Stewart. I reckon if you -white folks knew what was goin' on, you wouldn't feel so -comfortable." - -Williams was playing with Stewart as is done so often by Negroes in -the South with the whites, though the latter, in their supreme -confidence that they belong to an eternally ordained "superior -race," seldom realize how often and how easily they are taken in by -Negroes. Williams enjoyed the look of concern that had come to -Stewart's face at his words. - -"What's goin' on, Doc?" he asked in an eager tone, from which he -tried with but little success to keep the anxiety that he felt. - -"Heh, heh, heh!" laughed Williams in a throaty chuckle. "These -Negroes are figurin' on takin' some of these landlords to court -that's been cheatin' them on their crops. Of course," he added -hastily, "that don't need to worry you none, Mr. Stewart, but from -what I hear, there are some 'round here that the news will worry." - -Stewart flushed, for he was conscious of a vague feeling that -Williams might have been indirectly hitting at him when he had said -that the court proceedings wouldn't affect him. He fell back on the -old custom of flattering and praising fulsomely the Negro from whom -a white man wants information regarding the activities of other -Negroes. Williams, like every other Negro in the South, knew what -value to put on it, but he was playing a far deeper game than -Stewart suspected. - -"Doc, why ain't all these niggers good, sensible ones like you? If -all the niggers in the South were like you, there never would be any -trouble." - -"That's right, Mr. Stewart, that's right. As I was sayin' to some of -the folks out your way this mornin', they'd better stop followin' -after the fool ideas of these coloured men who've been up No'th." - -He looked at Stewart shrewdly and appraisingly to see if he had -penetrated the subtlety of his remark. Stewart, slow of thought, had -not fully done so, it seemed. Williams continued: - -"You see, it's like this, Mr. Stewart. Folks like you and me could -live here for a hundred years and there'd never be no trouble. -There'd never be no race problem if they was only like us. But"—and -his voice took on a doubtful and sorrowful sound—"the most of this -trouble we're havin' is caused by fool Negroes who go up No'th to -school and run around with those coloured folks in New York and -Chicago who tell ‘em how bad we po' coloured folks are bein' treated -in the South. They get all filled up with ‘social equality' ideas, -and then they come back down here and talk that stuff to these -ignorant Negroes and get them all stirred up⸺" - -Stewart was seeing more clearly what Williams was driving at. - -"I see," he said reflectively. "I alw'ys said too much education -sp'iled niggers—that is, some niggers," he added hastily for fear -Williams might take offence before he had done with him. "Co'se it -don't bother sensible ones like you, Doc." The last was said -conciliatingly. "Let's see, mos' this trouble's stahted since that -other doctor's been back, ain't it?" he asked as casually as he -could. - -"I ain't sayin' who's doin' it," replied Williams as he started the -engine of his car. "But you're a good guesser, Mr. Stewart," he -threw back over his shoulder as he drove away. … - -Stewart clucked to his horse and rode in deep thought down the road. -His mind was busy devising schemes to circumvent the action of the -societies to take into court men like himself who had been robbing -Negroes. They'd lose in the local courts, he knew, but suppose they -raised enough money to take a case to the United States Supreme -Court. No, that would never do! He'd see Parker and talk it over -with him right away! He put the whip to his horse and drove rapidly -into town. Mustn't let the damn niggers organize, that would be -hell! … - -Kenneth was going about his business on the day following the -meeting of the Klan that had been caused by Dr. Williams' talk with -Stewart, in blissful ignorance of the storm rapidly gathering about -his head. His mind was intent on a number of things—but trouble on -account of the co-operative societies was furthest from his mind. -Had he been told there was any trouble, such news would probably -have been greeted with a laugh of unconcern. All the white people of -the South weren't scoundrels and thieves like Stewart and Taylor and -their kind! They were but a few. Besides the poor whites, the -majority of whites would undoubtedly heartily approve his plan when -it had been developed to the point where it could be made public. - -But Kenneth thought of none of those things. His mind was too full -of other events that loomed on the horizon. First, of course, he -thought of Jane. He thought of his great good fortune in knowing a -girl like her. There was a girl for you! He thought of the home he -would build for her—he was mighty glad his father had been in fairly -comfortable circumstances and that he had been successful in his -practice. He would be able to build a mighty nice home for Jane. -They wouldn't bother with the cheap and flashy furniture, fumed oak -or mission, to be obtained in Central City. Oh, no! Soon's -Mrs. Phillips was better, the three of them would go to Atlanta and -buy everything they needed there. They'd have the best-looking home -in Central City, white or coloured! His mother and Mamie wanted him -to bring Jane into the house. He might do that … but the house which -had seemed so comfortable before, now seemed too ordinary to bring a -girl like Jane to. … He'd talk that over with her to-night. … And -then after a time there might be a little Jane … and a Kenneth, -Jr. … Kenneth laughed softly to himself as he saw Jane and himself -sitting by the fire of an evening with two little rascals playing on -the floor. … And later they'd go off to school. He'd see that they -got the best there was in life. … So his thoughts ran. - -And then he thought of Roy Ewing and the operation of the night -before. Must have been a mighty terrible ordeal for them to have to -call a Negro in to operate on their daughter. Race prejudice is a -funny thing! A white man will eat food prepared by black hands, have -it served by black hands, have his children nursed by a black nurse -who most of the time was more a mother to them than their own -mother, let his clothes be taken into a black home to be washed, -allow all the most intimate details of his life to be handled by -black folks. … Even lots of them would consort with black women at -night to whom they wouldn't raise their hats in the daytime. … But -when it came to recognizing a Negro outside of menial service, then -there came the rub. … Yet in a matter of life and death like Ewing's -case, they forgot prejudice. … Maybe in time the race problem would -be solved just like that … when some great event would wipe away the -artificial lines … as in France. … He thought of the terrible days -and nights in the Argonne. … He remembered the night he had seen a -wounded black soldier and a wounded white Southern one, drink from -the same canteen. … They didn't think about colour in those times. … -Wouldn't the South be a happy place if this vile prejudice didn't -exist? … He wondered why folks didn't see it as clearly as he did. … - -At last the long, busy day ended. He went over to have supper with -Jane. That dress she had on the night they had told each other of -their love, that reddish-coloured one, that had been a beauty. But -to-night—ah, the other one wasn't nearly so pretty! It was of white, -simply made. Satin slippers, silk stockings, also of white. Her hair -piled high and pierced with a large tortoise-shell comb. Always she -brought pictures to Kenneth's mind. To-night it was again of the -dark-eyed, seductive Spanish señorita on a balcony. After supper, -they sat in the canvas porch swing. They talked of their -plans—impetuously, enthusiastically—with all the glorious dreams of -youthful love. All the little things—little, but so great when one -is young and in love they said to each other. The things they said -when the Pyramids were being built. The things they will say a -thousand years from now. - -To-night there were no warning signals from Mr. Phillips when ten -o'clock came. He had been glad, and had said so, when Kenneth asked -him for Jane. "We don't feel we're losing a daughter—we're gaining a -son instead!" he had said. - -They talked on until there was no other sign of life discernible in -the neighbourhood, save for the passage of a prowling cat, or the -sound of the crickets in the grass. At last he had to go. Early the -next morning he was to leave for Atlanta with Mrs. Tucker. Three -days he was to be gone. He would return on Friday. - -In October they were to be married. Mrs. Phillips' health was not -improving as they had hoped. She was cheerful but she wanted Jane to -be happily married before she died. They had decided to live at his -house with his mother and Mamie. They'd refurnish it and do over all -the rooms. Later on, when he had made lots of money, they'd build. - -Mamie and Jane and Kenneth were to go to Atlanta the latter part of -September, there to buy the furniture and all the other things, they -would need. Mrs. Phillips was too ill to stand the strain of the -long journey and the excitement of the shopping. - -Jane tiptoed into the house so as not to wake her mother. She -returned in a few minutes with a fluffy white mass in her arms. It -was her wedding-gown which she was to make herself. They sat silent -for a minute at the token of what it meant. - -Tears stood in Jane's eyes when he went down the stairs. He saw them -when he looked back to say the last soft good-bye. - -"Three days is an awful long time," she said plaintively. - -Of course, there was nothing else for him to do but go back up the -steps and kiss her good-bye all over again. … - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - -BOB was packing for his journey to Cambridge, whistling cheerfully -the while. It was certainly great to be going away up to Boston to -school. All his life he had wanted to live there for a while where -he could learn the things which he knew of only at second hand now. -He pictured in his mind how he would arrange his life at school. -There'd be none of the kiddish pranks he had read about that college -boys did. He was too old for that. He had seen too much of the seamy -and sordid side of life to waste his time playing. He'd study every -minute he could. He'd make a record in scholarship that would make -his mother and Mamie and Kenneth proud of him. He'd go to summer -school so as to finish the rest of his college course in two years -instead of three. And then, law school. By jiminy, he'd be the best -lawyer there was! Not the best coloured lawyer. The best lawyer! -Never did youth have more brilliant dreams of life than Bob. He -paused at the sound which came from downstairs through the -half-opened door. It couldn't be in Ken's office, for he had gone to -Atlanta with Mrs. Tucker that morning. It sounded like crying—as one -would cry who had suffered some great bereavement or terrible -misfortune. He went out in the hall and leaned over the balustrade, -the better to find out what was the matter. - -It was Mamie and his mother. He looked puzzled, for he could think -of nothing to make Mamie cry that way. His mother was trying to -soothe and calm her as Mamie told her the cause of her weeping. Bob -crept down the stairs as softly as he could to hear. - -Mamie between sobs was telling her mother of some accident that had -befallen her. - -"I had been—to Ewing's Store and that Jim Archer—and Charley -Allen—and two or three other white boys—that hang around Ewing's -Store—said nasty things to me when I came out—I hurried home they -must have followed me." - -Here she broke down again while her mother crooned softly to her, -pleading with her not to cry so hard. Mamie choked back her sobs and -went on. Bob's face became terrible to see. He hung there on the -steps almost breathless, waiting, and dreading what he felt was -coming. - -"At that old field-near the railroad—they jumped out—and grabbed me -oh, my God! My God! Why didn't they kill me? Why didn't they kill -me?" Mamie's screams were horrible to hear. "Then—oh, God! God help -me!" - -For a minute Bob stood there as one frozen to the spot. Then a -blind, unreasoning fury filled him. He ran up the stairs to -Kenneth's room and got the revolver he knew Kenneth kept there. -Without hat or coat he ran down the stairs. Out the door and down -the street. Mamie and her mother were roused by his action. Mamie, -lying on the floor with her head in her mother's lap, her clothes -torn and bloody, her face and body bruised, struggled to her feet. -She ran to the open door through which Bob had disappeared. An even -greater terror, if such was possible, was on her face. - -"Bob! Bob! Come back! Come back!" she cried in ever louder cries. - -"Bob! Bob!" - -But Bob was too far away to hear her. - -In front of Ewing's Store there sat a group of nine or ten men and -boys. They were gathered around one who seemed to be relating a -highly interesting and humorous story. Every few minutes there'd be -a loud laugh and a slapping of each other on the back. Suddenly, -silence. A hatless and coatless figure was running down the street -toward them. The group opened as its members started to scatter. In -the middle of it there stood Jim Archer and Charley Allen. The -former had been telling the story. - -Bob walked straight up to Jim Archer, whose face had turned even -paler than its usual pasty colour. He turned to run but it was too -late. Without saying a word, his eyes burning with a deadly hatred, -Bob raised the revolver he had in his hand and fired once—twice—into -Archer's breast. Charley Allen rushed upon Bob to overpower him. He -met head-on the two bullets that came to meet him, and fell gasping -and coughing on the ground at Bob's feet. - -The rest of the crowd had fled. - -Without hurrying, Bob stepped into a Ford delivery truck that had -been left at the curb, its engine running. Before the crowd which -with miraculous suddenness filled the street could stop him, he -drove straight down Lee Street, turned into Oglethorpe Avenue, and -headed for the country beyond the town. … - -Three miles out of town the Ford spluttered, coughed, shook -mightily, and stopped. Its gasolene tank was empty. Shoving it into -the underbrush on the side of the road, far enough to be out of -sight, Bob ran on. If he could only get across country as far as the -railroad going North, he might be able to get to Macon, where he -could hide. When the excitement died down, he could go on farther -North. Perhaps he could eventually reach Canada. He fought his way -through brushes, across vast fields of cotton that seemed to have no -end. Near midnight he could go no farther. He had eaten nothing -since breakfast—he had been too excited over his packing to eat any -dinner. Bitterly he thought of the change a few hours had brought -forth. Twelve hours before, he had been eagerly planning to leave -for school. Now, his sister ruined, he a murderer twice over—fleeing -for his life! He hoped that he had killed both of them! It would be -too ironical a fate for them to live. … He thought for a moment of -what would happen if they caught him. He put the thought away from -him. God, that was too terrible! Mustn't think of that! I'll lose my -nerve. … - -What was that? Lord, he must have fallen asleep! What is that? Dogs? -Bloodhounds! Great God! - -I must get away! How did they get away from bloodhounds in books? -That was it! Water! - -He'd find a stream and wade in it. Then the damned dogs would lose -the scent. - -The thought of water reminded him suddenly that he was -thirsty—terribly thirsty. God, but his throat was dry! Felt like ten -thousand hot needles were sticking in it! - -His legs and thighs ached. He dragged them along like a paralysed -man. He thought petulantly of a paralysed man he had seen once in -Atlanta. What was his name? Bill? No, that wasn't it. Jim? No, not -that either. Some sort of a name like that. - -Wonder how Mamie was? Mamie? Who's Mamie? What had happened to her? -He racked his brain to remember. At last he gave it up. No use -trying. Old—old—brain don't work right. - -Wonder what's the matter with it? - -His delirious brain was suddenly cleared by an ominous baying close -at hand. Those damned dogs again. They'd never take him alive! He -felt in his pockets to see if the gun was still there. It was. He -felt in the other pocket to count the cartridges there while he ran. -One—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight! All there! Seven for the -mob! One—for—Bob! - -An old barn suddenly loomed up before him in the rapidly approaching -light of dawn. He dragged himself into it and barred the door. Not -much protection! But—a little! Just a little! Better'n none! He sat -down on an old box by the door, There was a knot-hole farther over. -He dragged the box in front of it. Reloaded the revolver. -One—two—three—four cartridges! Two that hadn't been used! That left -six in the gun! And four more! Listen! The dogs sound like they're -near! - -There they are! He wouldn't waste his precious bullets on dogs! Oh, -no! He'd save them for the human dogs! God damn 'em! He'd show 'em a -"damned nigger" knew how to die! Like a man! Here they come! God, -but it was tough to have to die! Just when life seemed so sweet! -Wonder who'd sit in his seat at Harvard! Hope a coloured boy'd get -it! Harvard seemed so far away from where he was! Looked like it was -as far's the moon! Might as well be for him! - -Look at 'em spreading out! Whyn't they come up like men and get him? -There's Jim Archer's brother! Bang! Got him! Look at 'im squirm! - -That's two Archers won't run after coloured girls any more! Bang! -Damn it, I missed 'im! Can't waste 'em like that! Got to be more -careful! Must take better aim next time! Bang! Bang! Hell, I missed -again! Nope! Got one of 'em! - -One—two—three—four gone! Six left! Five for the "Crackers"! One for -me! Bang! Bang! - -Got another! Must reload! One—two—three four! Nearly all gone! -Five—ten—fifteen minutes to live! Why did they pick on Mamie? - -Whyn't they take one of those girls that live in those houses on -Butler Street? That's always running around after men? Why'd they -bother a nice girl like Mamie? - -Bang! Listen at 'im howl? That's music for you! Listen to the damn -"Peck" squalling! - -What's th' matter? Looks like they've gone! Wonder if I can make a -run for it? Th' damn cowards! Fifty—one hundred—a thousand—five -thousand—to one! That's the way "Crackers" always fight coloured -folks! Never heard yet of one "Cracker" fighting one Negro! Have to -have thousan' to kill one little fellow like Bob Harper! - -Smoke? Can't be smoke! Yes, it is! Goin' t' burn me up! Bang! Bang! -Got one of 'em! - -My God! Only one bullet left! Never take him alive! Lynch him! Might -burn him! Burned coloured boy last month 'n Texas! Better not let -'em get him! Good-bye, everybody! Good-bye! - -Good-bye! Good⸺ Bang … - -It was some time after Bob had died before the posse dared enter the -barn which by this time was burning rapidly. They feared the -cessation of firing was only a ruse to draw them into the open. At -last, after riddling the burning structure with bullets, a few of -the more daring cautiously approached the barn, entered, and found -Bob's body. After the bullet from his own gun had entered his head, -killing him instantly, his body had fallen backwards from the box on -which he had been sitting. His legs were resting on the box, his -thighs vertical, his body on the floor and his head slightly tilted -forward as it rested against a cow-stall. His arms were widespread. -The empty revolver lay some ten feet away, where he had flung it as -he fell backwards. His face was peaceful. On it was a sardonic smile -as though he laughed in death at cheating the howling pack of the -satisfaction of killing him. - -The mob dragged the body hastily into the open. The roof of the old -barn was about to fall in. Before dragging it forth, they had taken -no chances. A hundred shots were fired into the dead body. Partly in -anger at being cheated of the joy of killing him themselves. They -tied it to the rear axle of a Ford. Howling, shouting gleefully, the -voice of the pack after the kill, they drove rapidly back to town, -the dead body, riddled and torn, bumping grotesquely over the holes -in the road. … - -Back to the public square. In the open space before the Confederate -Monument, wood and excelsior had been piled. Near by stood cans of -kerosene. On the crude pyre they threw the body. Saturated it and -the wood with oil. A match applied. In the early morning sunlight -the fire leaped higher and higher. Mingled with the flames and smoke -the exulting cries of those who had done their duty—they had avenged -and upheld white civilization. … - -The flames died down. Women, tiny boys and girls, old men and young -stood by, a strange light on their faces. They sniffed eagerly the -odour of burning human flesh which was becoming more and more faint. - -… Into the dying flames darted a boy of twelve. Out he came, -laughing hoarsely, triumphantly exhibiting a charred bone he had -secured, blackened and crisp. … Another rushed in. … Another. … -Another. … Here a rib. … There an armbone. … A louder cry. … The -skull. … Good boy! Johnny! … We'll put that on the mantelpiece at -home. … Five dollars for it, Johnny! … Nothin' doin'! … Goin' to -keep it myself! … - -The show ended. The crowd dispersed. Home to breakfast. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - -THREE men sat around a table that evening in the office of Sheriff -Parker in the court-house. The sheriff was one. Another was -Commissioner Henry Lane. The third was Ed Stewart. - -The latter was talking. - -"Yep, after I talked to that nigger Williams, I rustled ‘round among -the niggers on my place. At fust, they wouldn't talk much. But I -found a way to make 'em! By God, a taste of a horse-whip'll make any -of 'em open up! Found they's only two niggers we got to worry 'bout. -One's this nigger doctor. The other's my nigger Tom Tracy. She'ff, -if you hear'n tell of an accident out to my place in the nex' few -days, you needn't bother to come out to investigate. It'll be -se'f-defence. Tom Tracy's goin't come up on me with an open knife. -I'm goin' t' shoot t' save my life." - -The three laughed at the good joke. The sheriff agreed not to -bother. "Good riddance!" he commented. - -Stewart went on: - -"Now ‘bout this other nigger. He's the brains of the whole thing. -But we've got to be mighty careful, 'cause these other niggers -thinks he some sort of a tin god. Ef they think he's bumped off -'cause of these lodges he's been organizing, they might raise hell. -Ev'ry nigger out my way would go through hell 'n' high water for -him. Never seen ‘em think so much of another nigger befo'. Mos' the -time they'll come and tell me ev'rythin' that any them other niggers -doin'. This nigger Harper's got ‘em hoodooed or somethin'." - -The sheriff broke into Stewart's monologue in a complaining, -reminiscent fashion: - -"Don't know what's gettin' into the niggers nowadays. They ain't -like they useter be. Take this nigger's daddy, f'r example. Old man -Harper was as good a nigger's I ever seen. If he met you on the -street twenty times a day, he'd take off his hat 'n' bow almos' to -the groun' ev'ry time. But these new niggers, I can't make heads nor -tails of ‘em. Take that uppity nigger they burned this mornin'. -Always goin' 'round with a face on 'im like he's swallowed a mess of -crabapples. What if that Jim Archer did have a little fun with the -nigger's sister? 'Twon't hurt a nigger wench none. Oughter be proud -a white man wants her." - -His voice took on at the next remark a tone of pained and outraged -surprise. - -"Nigger gals gettin' so nowadays they think they're's good as white -women! And what ‘chu think that old fool Judge Stev'nson said t' me -to-day? Had the nerve t' sayt' me that he don't blame that nigger -Bob for killin' Jim Archer!" - -He demanded of his companions in an almost ludicrous surprise: -"What's goin't come of the South when _white men_ like the judge say -such things? Guess he's gettin' so old he's kind of weak in the -head! I tol' him he'd better not say that to nobody else. Somethin' -might happen to _him!_" - -"Damn Judge Stevenson!" broke in Stewart, anxious to get a chance to -tell his story. "He alw'ys was a sort of ‘nigger-lover' anyway!" - -Henry Lane spoke for the first time. - -"Reck'n the Gov'nor'd say anythin' ‘bout this burnin'?" he asked in -a tone that anticipated the answer. - -Parker laughed ironically. - -"What kin he do?" he demanded. He answered his own question. -"Nothin'! Under the laws of Georgy, he can't even sen' a man down -here to investigate unless he's officially asked by citizens of th' -county! And who's goin' t' ask him?" He laughed again. "If anybody's -fool enough to ask him, they'll be havin' a visit paid ‘em one of -these nights! Reck'n we don't need to bother none 'bout the Gov'non -meddlin' in our affairs," he ended assuredly. - -"Le's get back to this Harper nigger 'n' quit all this foolin' -'round," Stewart demanded, irritably. "How're we goin' t' settle -him?" He added, after a pause: "Without stirrin' up the niggers all -over the county?" - -"An' they ain't all we got to look out for," added Sheriff Parker. -"They's some white folks 'round here who'll kick up a stink if we -ain't careful." "Who'll do that?" asked Stewart contemptuously. -"Judge Stev'nson can't do it all by hisse'f." "Well, there's him an -old Baird an' Fred Griswold. An' then the one's mos' likely to raise -the mos' fuss is Roy Ewing. He thinks a lot of that nigger lately -for some reas'n. Ain't been able t' figger it out as yet, but he -sets a heap by him." He scratched his head in an abstracted manner. -"Tol me over t' the sto' yestiddy that this Harper's a fine type of -nigger t' have ‘round Central City 'n' that we oughter encourage -other niggers to be like him." - -"Another one gettin' ol and weak-minded befo' his time!" was -Stewart's comment. "But I want t' know if we're goin' to sit here -all night talkin' ‘bout things that's goin' t' keep us from -punishin' this nigger or if we're goin' to get down to business. -Fust thing we know, we'll be ‘lectin' this nigger mayer the town!" -His sarcasm was thinly veiled, if veiled at all. Parker and Lane -showed by the sudden flush on their faces that the shot had reached -its mark. - -"You don't have to be so cantankerous 'bout it, Ed." Parker showed -in his voice, as well as on his face, that he didn't particularly -care for Stewart's brand of irony. "You know we're jus' as anxious -as you to get rid of him. But we got to be careful. You live out in -the country ‘n' you don't know the situation here in town like me -‘n' Henry." - -He sat meditatively for a time. Stewart fidgeted in his chair, and -Henry Lane sat lost in thought. Parker suddenly sat up eagerly. - -"I got it!" he exclaimed. The others looked at him inquiringly. - -"We'll fix it so's we can say that Harper insulted a white woman!" - -His companions looked slightly disappointed and doubtful. - -"How're you goin' t' do that?" asked Lane. "This nigger, as fur's I -can see, since he been back's been stayin' out where he b'longs in -the nigger section. Only time he comes over this way's when he comes -to the bank or the sto' or here to th' court-house. That's one thing -I can say in his fav'r! Bein'in France ain't sp'iled him none so -fur's white women's concerned. If he ran around with them Frog -women, he never tried any of it 'round here." - -"It ain't necessary for him to bother with white women in Central -City for us to put that on 'im," Parker declared defensively. -"Nearly all white folks ev'n up No'th b'lieves that ev'ry time a -nigger's lynched down this a way, its 'cause he's raped a white -woman." His manner became triumphant. "Here's how we'll fix it." - -The three men, although they were alone in the dark court-house and -there was none to hear, drew their chairs together. Their heads were -close for more than ten minutes, while they talked excitedly -together. Occasionally there would be a low burst of laughter—again -an oath. At last Stewart rose, took a paper-bound book from the -desk, copied for some time from it, and left the court-house. - -The next morning each of fifteen "white, Protestant, Gentile" -citizens of Central City received a letter. There was no writing of -any sort on the envelope save their names and addresses. They were -of ordinary quality such as can be purchased at five cents a package -in any cheap stationery store. In it was a letter typed on plain -paper, of a quality to match the cheapness of the envelope. There -was no printing of any sort on the letter, nor was it addressed -other than: "Dear Sir." It read: - - DEAR SIR: - - You have been chosen, as one known to be loyal, brave, - and discreet, to meet a situation affecting the welfare of the - Nation, the State, and the Community. You are hereby commanded to be - present at the time and place and date given on the enclosed card. - - - Be wise! Be discreet! Discuss this with no one! Fail not! - - THE COMMITTEE. - -There was a plain card enclosed, also of cheap and easily obtained -quality, on which was typed a date, time, and place. … - -_Mirabile dictu_, each of the fifteen recipients of this cryptic -missive was a Ku Klux Klansman. … - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - -MRS. TUCKER was operated on at Atlanta on Thursday morning at the -Auburn Infirmary, owned and conducted by a group of coloured -physicians of that city, as none of them could operate in the white -hospitals. Kenneth keenly enjoyed being in a hospital again, with -all its conveniences. The operation finished and Mrs. Tucker resting -easily, he purchased, after much picking and choosing, Jane's -engagement ring—a beautiful, blue-white diamond solitaire. - -That important task performed, he telephoned Dr. Scott, to whom -Judge Stevenson had given him a letter of introduction. So engrossed -had he been in the operation and the purchasing of the ring, he had -almost forgotten the promise made to the judge to see and talk with -Dr. Scott, known to be a liberal leader of Southern public opinion -and one deeply concerned with the problem of race relations. - -"That's a mighty intelligent plan you've worked out," Dr. Scott -boomed over the wire. "I'd like to have you talk that over with me -and one or two others here. Can you do it before going home?" - -Kenneth told him he had to leave early next morning for Central -City. As Dr. Scott had a meeting that would keep him engaged all -afternoon, it was decided that they should meet that evening at an -office in a building downtown in the business section. - -It was with a deal of eagerness—and with some degree of anxiety, for -he did not know how he would be received by Dr. Scott and the -others—that Kenneth set forth that evening for the meeting. He found -three men awaiting him in the office of John Anthony, who was one of -the three. His footsteps echoed in ghostlike fashion as he walked -down the hallway of the deserted building. From the open window -there floated from the street below the subdued clatter of -automobiles, the cries of newsboys, the restless shuffling of the -leisurely crowd as it moved up and down Peachtree Street. Kenneth -sought to weigh the three, who were, he felt, representatives of -that "new South" of which so much was heard, but signs of whose -activities he had so seldom seen. He was seeking to find out their -motives, their plans of accomplishing that spirit of fair play -toward the Negro, to determine how far they would go towards -challenging the established order that was damning the South -intellectually, morally, economically. Kenneth, with too-high ideals -for his environment, was almost naïve in his eager search for the -great champion he had dreamed of who would brave danger and -contumely and even death itself for a newer and brighter day for his -people in the South. That hope had been dulled somewhat by the -things he had seen since his return to Central City, for he was not -of an unreflective mind. Yet he had not seen far enough beneath the -surface of that volcano of passion and hate and greed which is the -South to realize that the South had never produced a martyr to any -great moral cause one who had possessed sufficient courage to -oppose, regardless of consequences, any one of the set, dogmatic -beliefs of the South. True it was that there were some who had -fought in the Civil War with firm belief that the South was -right—even though it had been shown that their idealism was a -perverted one. But even then these had moved with the tide of -sectional sentiment and not against it. - -Educated in Southern schools where the text-books of history always -exalted the leaders of the Confederacy, raising Lee and Jackson and -Johnston and Gordon to heights but little lower than the heroes of -Grecian mythology, and ever tending to disparage and revile the -Union cause and its leaders, Kenneth, like many coloured youths, had -accepted the readymade and fallacious estimates set before him. It -was, therefore, but natural that he set his hopes for stalwart, -unafraid leadership too high and, at the same time, failed to -realize that the South had never begotten an Abraham Lincoln, a -Garrison, a Sumner, or even a meteor-like John Brown, bursting into -brilliance born of indignation against stupidity or ignorance or -wrong and dying gloriously for that cause. Kenneth's eyes had -partially been opened by his memorable talk with Judge Stevenson. -Etched upon his mind by the acid of bitter truths were the judge's -words that the boasted Anglo-Saxonism of the South had curdled into -moral cowardice on all subjects by the repression incident to the -race problem. Nevertheless Kenneth was too inexperienced as yet in -the ways of life to comprehend the full import of the older man's -cynicism. He yet sought him who would fulfil his ideal of a great -leader who, like a latter-day Crusader, would guide white and black -together out of the impasse in which the South seemed to be. Kenneth -thus anxiously examined the three before him to see if by chance any -one of them bore the accolade which would stamp him the Moses that -he sought. - -Naturally enough, his eyes first went to Dr. Scott, as it was of him -that Judge Stevenson had spoken most favourably. Minister to one of -the larger Atlanta churches, he had spoken frequently and with -considerable vigour for Georgia in behalf of greater kindness and -fairness toward the Negro. He was very tall. His more than ordinary -height with his attenuated and lanky slenderness gave him an almost -cadaverous appearance which the loose suit of black mohair he wore -accentuated. From beneath the folds of a low collar there sprang a -white starched-linen bow tie, the four ends standing stiffly, each -in a separate direction, like the arms of a windmill. His rather -large head was bald on top but around the edges ran a fringe of -yellowish-white hair with curling ends that made his face appear -rounder than it was. Bushy eyebrows shaded pale blue eyes that -twinkled in unison with the ready smile which revealed large yellow -teeth. Into his conversation Dr. Scott injected at frequent -intervals ministerial phrases—"the spirit of Jesus"—"being -Christians"—"our Lord and Saviour." He always addressed his white -companions as "Brother Anthony" and "Brother Gordon." Kenneth he -always called "Doctor." - -Kenneth felt a certain doubt of Dr. Scott's sincerity. He tried to -penetrate what seemed to be a mask over the minister's face that -effectively hid all that revolved in the mind behind it. Something -intangible but nevertheless real blocked his path—an unctuous -affability that seemed too oily to be sincere. No, Kenneth -reflected, Dr. Scott is not the man. All of this examination had -taken but a few seconds, yet Kenneth's mind was made up. In -prejudging him so hastily, Kenneth did an injustice to Dr. Scott -that was unconscious but real. In his heart of hearts Dr. Scott had -realized that to accomplish anything at all in the South towards -enlightenment he must necessarily become, at least as discretion -seemed to dictate, a mental chameleon. He had suffered because of -that decision, for had circumstances placed him in a more liberal -and intelligent environment, he would have been far more advanced in -his religious and other beliefs. The traces of gold in the ore that -was his mind had been revealed in the suffering which had come to -him through his speaking out against a system that seemed to him -wrong. - -He had been reviled, misunderstood both deliberately and by those -who were not so advanced as he. He had borne in silence whatever had -come to him, even threats of tarring and of death from the Ku Klux -Klan, seeking a course directed by wisdom if not by valour. - -While he was being introduced by Dr. Scott, Kenneth examined -critically the other two men. Mr. Anthony, who had volunteered the -use of his office for the conference, as no comment would be likely -if the four of them were seen in the office building, was first -presented. - -John Anthony might well have posed as model for a typical American -business man or lawyer. Of rotund figure, well-fed appearance, hair -close-cut, his face clean-shaven, clad in neatly tailored but -undistinguished clothing, he sat leaning slightly forward, his -fingers interlocked, his thumbs and forefingers holding his cravat -while his elbows rested on the arms of his chair. He acknowledged -the introduction to Kenneth with a brief "Pleased t' meetcha." He -did not rise, nor extend his hand in greeting, but he at once -shrewdly appraised and catalogued Kenneth. John Anthony's interest -in interracial affairs had been first aroused by the war-time -migration of Negroes to the North. His personal fortunes had been -touched directly by this loss of labour, and the resultant decrease -in profits had caused him to inquire into the problem of the -labourers who had been always so plentiful. Like most Americans, and -particularly those in Southern States, he had had no idea of, or -interest in, what Negroes were forced to endure. Though near to this -problem, he had been a living example of those in the proverb who -"live so close to the trees, they cannot see the woods." His -inquiry, conducted with the clear-sightedness and energy he had -acquired from long business training, had revealed brutalities and -vicious exploitation that had amazed and sickened him. He was too -shrewd to believe that Negroes would be restrained from leaving the -South by attempts to picture Negroes freezing to death in the North, -or to try to beguile them by transparent falsehoods to the effect -that the Southern white man is the Negro's best friend. Though he -did not voice it save to his more intimate friends, he felt naught -but contempt for the hypocrisy of those who too late were attempting -to flatter the Negro to keep him in the South. His motives were -therefore curiously mixed in his support of efforts toward -interracial goodwill. Economic in part were they, because retention -of Negro labour meant the continuation of his own successful -business career. Equally, almost, did they proceed from a hitherto -latent sense of moral indignation against the treatment which the -South had accorded to Negroes in the past. Direct of speech, -analytical of mind, he went straight to the heart of the problem -with that same perspicacity that had won for him more than usual -success in his business of conducting one of the South's largest -department stores. - -Here again did Kenneth figuratively shake his head and decide that -John Anthony was not destined to be the Moses of the new South. He -could not for the life of him dissociate Anthony's interest in -behalf of justice from his direct financial interest in keeping -Negroes in the South, where, with the inevitable working of the law -of demand and supply, a surplusage of Negro labour would mean -continued high profits for men like Anthony. Kenneth was too young -to know that the more largely a man profits from a liberal cause, -the more loyal will be his support of that cause and the lesser -likelihood of his defection when difficulties arise. - -Of the three men, Kenneth felt greatest hope in the third—David -Gordon—younger than Kenneth, alert, capable, and with an engaging -frankness of face and of manner to which Kenneth warmed -instinctively. Gordon was a graduate of Harvard, where he for the -first time in his life had learned to know coloured fellow-students -as men and human beings instead of as "niggers." At first he had -rebelled strenuously, his every instinct had revolted against dining -in the same room, however large, with a "nigger." So indignant had -he been that he had taken it up with the president. Benign, kindly, -clearheaded, and patriarchal, the older man calmly and -dispassionately and without rancour had shown Gordon the injustice -of his position—how unfair it was to deny an education to a man for -the sole offence of having been born with a black skin. Before he -quite knew how it had happened, Gordon found himself ashamed of what -now was seen to be petty nastiness on his part. So interested had he -become after his eyes were thus opened that he had made a special -study of the Negro problem. After finishing both his college and law -courses, he had returned to Atlanta to practise law with his father. -His interest in the race question had increased since his return. He -was now one of that liberal and intelligent few who are most free -from prejudice an emancipated Southerner. Some inner voice told -Kenneth instantly that greatest hope of the three lay in David -Gordon—and men like him. … - -The introductions completed, Dr. Scott opened the conversation. - -"Doctor, we've heard of the society you've started in Central City. -Tell us how you're getting along." - -"You have heard of it?" asked Kenneth in surprise. He did not know -his fame had preceded him. - -"Oh, yes," answered Dr. Scott. "You see, I know a man in the Klan -headquarters here. They've got, so I understand, a pretty full -account of your movements." - -"They honour me," laughed Kenneth, a note of irony in his voice. He -was not a physical coward—threats bothered him little. He had paid -little attention to the report of the Klan meeting at Central City, -though it had worried his mother and Bob considerably. No more would -he be perturbed by any reports of his activities the Klan might have -in their files. - -"Then, too, Judge Stevenson's been writing me about you," continued -Dr. Scott. "We are all interested in what you're doing, Doctor, and -we want you to talk frankly. You can to us," he added. - -The three men were genuinely interested in the plan on which Kenneth -was working. They were too intelligent to fail to see that something -would have to be done towards adjustment of race relations in the -South to avert an inevitable clash. What that something was they did -not know. They felt the time was not ripe for a challenge to the -existing order, and they would not, in all probability, have been -willing to issue such a fiat had the time been propitious. Yet they -were anxious to examine the plans of this coloured man, hoping -against hope that therein might lie an easy solution of the problem. - -Frankly and clearly Kenneth told of the simple scheme. Occasionally -one of his hearers would interrupt him with a question, but for the -most part they heard him through in silence. The story ended, the -three men sat in silence as each revolved in his mind the -possibilities of the plan. John Anthony was the first to speak, and -then he approached the whole race problem instead of Kenneth's plan -for attacking one phase of it. - -"Doctor," asked Mr. Anthony, "do you believe there is any solution -to the race problem? Just what is the immediate way out, as you see -it?" - -"It would take a wiser man than I to answer that," laughed Kenneth. -"You see, we're in the habit of thinking that we can find a simple -A-B-C solution for any given problem, and the trouble is there are -mighty few that are simple enough for that." - -"Yes—yes—I know all that," interjected Mr. Anthony, rather testily. -"What I want to hear is what you, as an intelligent Negro, think. I -want you to tell us exactly what men like you are saying among -yourselves." - -"Well, we're talking about lynching—poor schools—the way Negroes are -denied the ballot in the South" began Kenneth. - -"Er—that's a thing we can't discuss," hastily interrupted Dr. Scott. -"Conditions in the South are too unsettled to talk about giving the -Negro the vote as yet." - -"As yet," echoed Kenneth. "If we can't discuss it now, when can we -talk about it?" - -"It'll be a long time," answered Dr. Scott frankly. "There are a lot -of white people in the South who know disfranchisement is wrong. We -know that we can't keep the ballot from the Negro always. But," he -ended with a shrug of his shoulders and a thrust-ing-out of his -hands, palms upward, in a gesture of perplexity and despair Kenneth -was learning to know so well that he was associating it -instinctively with the Southern white man, "we'd stir up more -trouble than we could cope with." - -"And while you're waiting for the opportune time, conditions are -getting steadily worse, the problem is getting more complicated, and -it'll be harder to solve the longer you put off trying to solve it," -urged Kenneth. It was with an effort that he kept out of his voice -the impatience he felt. "Why don't men like you three band together -with those who think as you do, so you can speak out?" he asked. - -"That's just what we are trying to do, but we have to go very -cautiously," answered Dr. Scott. "We must use discretion. How much -are Negroes thinking about voting?" - -"They think about it all the time," replied Kenneth. "We know the -mere casting of a ballot isn't going to solve all our problems, but -we also know we'll never be able to do much until we do vote." - -"You must be patient—wait until the time is ripe⸺" cautioned -Dr. Scott. - -"Patience can be a vice as well as a virtue." It was David Gordon -who spoke. - -Kenneth looked at him gratefully. - -"Your race's greatest asset," continued Dr. Scott, addressing his -remark to Kenneth, yet seeking to impart a gentle rebuke to Gordon, -"has been its wonderful gentleness under oppression. You must -continue to be sweet-tempered and patient⸺" - -"That's all very well to advise, but how would you or any other -white man act if you had to suffer the things the Negro has had to -suffer?" demanded Kenneth. "Suppose you saw your women made the -breeding-ground of every white man who desires them, saw your men -lynched and burned at the stake, saw your race robbed and cheated, -lied to and lied about, despised, persecuted, oppressed—how would -you feel, Dr. Scott, if somebody came to you and said: ‘Be -patient'?" - -Kenneth poured forth his words like a burning flood of -lava—indicative of the raging fires of resentment smouldering -beneath. He paused, completely out of breath. Dr. Scott flushed -until his face became a dull brick-red in colour. He restrained with -an effort the anger caused by the coloured man's impetuous words. - -"I know—I know," he said soothingly. "It's hard, I know, but you -must remember the words of Jesus to his disciples: ‘When men shall -persecute and revile you⸺' The spirit of Jesus is growing in the -hearts of the South—it will come to your rescue in due season." - -"We're always hearing about this liberal white opinion," rejoined -Kenneth, nettled by the unctuous suavity of the words, "but we so -seldom see any signs of it—almost never in places like Central City. -Sometimes I think it's like trying to put your finger on -mercury—when your finger is about to touch it, it rolls away—it's -somewhere else. Meanwhile lynching goes on." - -"You're right, Doctor," broke in John Anthony, who had been -following the conversation with deep interest though he had taken -little part in it. "We've got to do something, and that soon—the -only problem is how to do it. Now about your society in Smith -County—tell us how we can help you make it a success. Do you need -any money to get it working properly?" - -Kenneth turned to the quiet man who had proposed the first tangible -offer to help. - -"Thanks a lot for the offer," replied Kenneth. "There are two things -I can think of that'll be immediately helpful. One is that you and -Dr. Scott and Mr. Gordon do what you can to help mould public -sentiment so this liberal white opinion will become a force in the -South against the Ku Klux Klan and lynching and all the other forms -of prejudice. That's what seems to me to be most needed." - -"Yes—yes—I agree with you, but tell us just exactly how we can help -you." Anthony, in his direct way, was impatient of theorizing. "Do -you need any money—credit—legal advice—that is, any we can give -quietly without it getting out that we gave it?" - -"Yes, there is something," answered Kenneth. "Most of the men in our -societies have been working on shares for so many years that instead -of having any money, they owe their landlords large sums. The big -problem is credit for the things they need until they sell their -crops next fall." - -Kenneth gave a detailed statement of their needs and their plans. -John Anthony took notes as he talked and agreed to see what he could -do towards securing credit when they needed it. David Gordon -volunteered his aid as a lawyer. They rose to go. Anthony gazed -intently at Kenneth as he asked gravely: - -"Doctor, have you thought of the possibility of—er—trouble if your -motives are not understood? That is, suppose some of the poor whites -are stirred up by the landlords and merchants you're trying to take -these coloured farmers away from—have you figured out what might be -the result?" - -"Yes, I have," responded Kenneth. "I realize there might be some -who'd break up our groups⸺" - -"No—No—I mean to you personally," interjected Anthony. - -"I don't think they'll bother me," was Kenneth's confident reply. -"But if something should happen—well, if I can feel I've perhaps -pointed a way out for my people, I can die happy. … At any rate, -killing or running me away wouldn't kill the spirit of revolt these -coloured people have it might stir it even higher. Not that I've any -ambition for martyrdom," he ended with a laugh. - -Kenneth spoke with no bravado, with none of the cant of the poseur. -His words, rather, were uttered with the simplicity of the earnest -seeker after truth—the unheroic but sincere worker in a cause that -is just. - -"Let's hope you'll come through," said Anthony. "I'm a Southerner -with all the traditions and prejudices of the South, but I wish you -luck." He added after a pause: "You'll need it." - -After Kenneth had gone, the three men looked at each other -questioningly. - -"What do you think of him and his plan?" asked Dr. Scott, half to -himself. - -It was Gordon who answered. - -"It's a good scheme—if it works. I'm mighty afraid, though, he's -going to run into deep water if his societies grow very large. And -the pity of it is that we in Atlanta can't help him if we dared." -Anthony grunted. - -"And yet the South is trying to solve the race problem and leave -educated Negroes like Harper entirely out of the equation. It's -about time we woke up." - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - -EARLY Friday morning Kenneth left for Central City, before the -Atlanta _Constitution_ appeared on the streets for sale. Soon after -his train left Macon on the way South, the engine blew out a -cylinder head. They remained there until another could be dispatched -from Macon to replace it. There had come to his stopping-place in -Atlanta, a few minutes after he had left, a telegram which had been -sent from a town twenty miles distant from Central City, telling him -to remain in Atlanta until further notice. Jane had paid a man -liberally to drive through the country to get the telegram off in -time. It would not have done to send such a wire from Central City. -All these things had so happened as though the very fates themselves -were in league against Kenneth. - -In total ignorance of what had happened to Mamie and Bob and the -eventful chain of happenings since he had left Central City three -days before, Kenneth sat in the stuffy, odorous, and dirty Jim Crow -car, busied with his thoughts. A noisy and malodorous Negro sat next -to him who seemed to know some person at every one of the thousand -and one stations at which they stopped. Kenneth sat next to the -window. His companion leaned over him to stick his head out of the -window to shout loud-mouthed and good-natured greetings to his -friends on the ground. At those few stations where he knew no one, -he would ask foolish, sometimes humorous questions of those he did -not know. Kenneth stood it as long as he could and then requested -the troublesome fellow to be less annoying. Kenneth, though vexed, -was amused at the man's complaint to another of his kind behind him. -"Humph!" he grunted. "Tha's whut I say ‘bout a dressed-up -nigger—thinks he owns the train. I paid jes' as much," he declared -more aggressively, "as he did, an' ef he don't like it, he can git -off and walk." At this, a long laugh at his own witty remark, but -Kenneth looked out of the window and paid no attention to him. His -thoughts were busy with other things. - -Every few minutes he would feel the lump in the lower right-hand -vest-pocket with a touch that was almost loving in its tenderness. -He hoped Jane would like the ring—it had cost a little more than he -had expected to pay or could afford, but the best was none too good -for a girl like her. He could see Jane's eyes now when he opened the -little box and she for the first time saw the glittering facets of -the beautiful stone. He smiled in anticipation of her joy. And then -he'd put it on her finger and she'd put her arms around his neck and -he'd feel again her warm, soft, passionate, clinging lips. Lucky he -didn't get too deeply tied up with that girl years ago in New York. -She had kissed as though she'd had long practice at it. Too -sophisticated—nothing like Jane. Jane wasn't experienced in -kissing—but the thrill it gave him! It was funny about girls. Most -of them didn' think a kiss meant very much. He had kissed -one—two—three—four—oh, lots of them! But all of them put together -couldn't begin to equal in warmth, the vividness of one kiss from -Jane. - -And just think of it—six weeks from now, and Jane would be -Mrs. Kenneth B. Harper! My, but that sounded good! Reverend Wilson -would marry them. Then they'd go to Atlantic City for their -honeymoon. - -Hoped the cotton crop would turn out well. Then he'd be able to -collect some of those long-outstanding accounts from the farmers. -That money would come in mighty handy right now. That's the devil of -being a country doctor. You had to wait until the cotton crop was -gathered and sold before you could collect the bulk of what's due -you. And if the cotton failed or the market was so flooded the price -was down, you'd have to wait on the most of them until the next -year. Sometimes two or three years. Dr. Johnson over at Vidalia had -some accounts that're six years old. Oh, well, they're good anyway. -Couldn't expect to practise in the country districts unless you were -willing to wait for your money. - -Wonder why this darned train doesn't make better time. Slow as all -outdoors. Like molasses in winter-time. If it only gets in on time, -I'll surprise Jane by running in on her on the way home. Due in at -five-fifty. Let's see, it's four-thirty now. Where are we now? -Hoopersville. Nearly ninety miles yet to go. Good Lord, won't get in -until nearly eight o'clock! Hope we won't lose any more time. Don't -see why so darned many people are travelling to-day anyhow. Just -slows up the train, getting on and off with their ten bundles and -suitcases each. - -Wonder how Bob feels about going to school. - -Hope he'll like the shirts I bought him. Ought to. Cost four dollars -apiece. Prices are certainly high. Few years ago you could get the -best shirts on the market for a dollar and a half apiece—not more -than two dollars. - -I can see Jane now. Let's see, it's five o'clock. Probably getting -supper. Glad she can cook so well. Most girls nowadays can't boil -water without burning it. - -He reflected on the unusual conversation he had had the night before -with Dr. Scott, John Anthony, and Gordon. It was good to know there -were some white men who were thinking seriously on the race problem. -And trying to be fair. Most white Southerners were modern Pontius -Pilates. Figuratively and literally, mentally and morally, they -washed their hands of all personal responsibility for the increasing -complexities of the race question. He wondered how many more men -there were in the South like those three. Broadminded but afraid to -speak out. Ewing, Judge Stevenson, Scott, Anthony, Gordon—all by -word or action seemed mortally afraid lest the public know they were -even thinking of justice. How soon, he wondered, would they gain -sufficient courage to take a manly stand? Would that time come -before the inevitable clash that continued oppression would cause? - -Coloured folks weren't going to stand it much longer. They were -organizing up North and even in the South to use legal means to -better their lot. But some of them were getting desperate. Armed -resistance would be foolish. Would be certain death. At any rate, -even that would be better than what has been going on. - -Good Lord, he reflected, let's forget the race problem awhile! A -Negro never gets away from it. He has it night and day. Like the -sword of Damocles over his head. Like a cork in a whirling vortex, -it tosses him this way and that, never ceasing. Have to think about -something else or it'll run him crazy. Guess Mary Ewing's about out -of danger now. - -Glad when she's all right again. Don't like to be going over there -to those white folks' house. Neighbours might begin to talk. How -much can I charge Roy Ewing? Two hundred dollars? Yes, he can stand -it. Hope he'll pay me soon. Can use it when Jane and I go on our -honeymoon. Just about cover our expenses. Honeymoon. Always thought -it a darned silly name. But it doesn't sound so bad now. Not when it -was mine and Jane's. - -Thank Goodness, there's Ashland! Next stop's Central City. Be home -in an hour. Guess I'll go home first and take a bath and put on some -clean clothes. Feel dirty all over and there are a thousand cinders -down my back. Ugh, but this is a nasty ride! Hope Bob'll be at the -train with the car. … - -Kenneth descended from the train and looked for Bob. He wasn't -there. He looked around for some other coloured man to drive him -home. He knew it was useless to try and get any of the white -taxi-drivers to take him home—they would have considered it an -insult to be asked to drive a Negro. He thought it strange that -there were no Negroes to be seen. Usually there were crowds of them. -It formed the biggest diversion of the day for white and coloured -alike to see the train come in. It was the familiar longing for -travel—adventure contact with the larger and more interesting things -of the outside world, though none of them could have given a -reasonable statement of the fundamental psychological reactions they -were experiencing when they went to the station. They never thought -of it in that light—it was simply a pleasurable item in the day's -course. That was enough. - -When he found no one around, Kenneth picked up his bag and started -down the platform to the street. He noticed, but paid little -attention to, the silence that fell over the various groups as he -passed. He heard a muttered oath but it never occurred to him that -it might have any possible connection with himself. Intent on -reaching home, seeing the folks, telephoning Hiram Tucker that his -wife had passed safely through her operation and was resting -well—eager to get freshened up and go over to Jane's, he cut across -a field that would save a half-mile walk instead of going the longer -route through Lee Street and town. Swinging along in a long, free -stride reminiscent of his army days, he continued the musing he had -done on the train. - -He thought nothing of the fact that his house was darkened. He rang -the bell but no one answered. Thinking his mother and Mamie were out -visiting in the neighbourhood, he dug down in his bag, got his keys, -and let himself into the house. His mother was coming down the -stairs, an oil lamp in her hands. As he went up to kiss her, he -noticed her eyes were sunken and red. Anxiously he inquired the -reason. - -"Oh, Kenneth, my boy—my boy—haven't you heard?" - -She burst into a torrent of weeping, her head on his shoulders. He -took the lamp from her hand perplexedly and placed it on the table. - -"Heard what, mamma? What's the matter? What's happened? Why are you -crying like this? What's wrong?" - -The questions poured out of him like a flood. For some time his -mother could not speak. Her sobs racked her body. Though she tried -to control herself, every effort to do so but caused her to weep the -more. Kenneth, puzzled, waited until she could gain control of -herself. He thought it funny she carried on this way—she'd never -acted like this before. She had always been so well poised. But his -alarm and feeling of impending disaster increased to definite -proportions when the flood of tears seemed endless. - -"Where's Bob?" he asked, thinking that he could find out from his -brother what had gone wrong. At this a fresh burst of weeping -greeted him. He led her into his reception room and sat her down on -the lounge and himself beside her. At last, between body-tearing -sobs, she told him. - -"Great God!" he shouted. "No! No! Mamma, it can't be true! It can't -be true!" But even as he demanded that she tell him it was not true, -he knew it was. … - -Mrs. Harper's lamentations were even as those of that other Rachel -who wept for her children because they were not. Kenneth sat -stunned. It was too terrible—too devastating—too cataclysmic a -tragedy to comprehend! Mamie—his own dear little sister—torn, -ravished, her life ruined! Bob—with all his fire and ambition, his -deep sensitiveness to all that was fine and beautiful, as well as -his violent hatred of the mean, the petty, the vicious, the unjust, -the sordid-Bob-his brother—dead at the hands of a mob! Thank God, he -had died before they laid hands on him! - -He laughed—an agonized, terrible mockery that made his mother look -at him sharply. He had been a damned fool! He thought bitterly of -his thoughts on the train a few hours before. Good God, how petty, -how trivial they seemed now! Surely that couldn't have been just -hours ago? It must have been centuries—ages—æons since. He heard the -crickets chirping outside the window. From down the street there -floated a loud laugh. His wilted collar annoyed him. Cinders from -the train scratched his back. He wondered how in such a circumstance -he could be conscious of such mundane things. - -He laughed again. His mother had ceased her loud wails of grief and -sat rocking to and fro, her arms folded tightly across her breast as -though she held there the babe who had grown up and met so terrible -a fate. Low, convulsive sobs of anguish seemed to come from her -innermost soul. … She anxiously touched Kenneth on the shoulder as -he laughed. It had a wild, a demoniacal, an eerie ring to it that -terrified her. … - -What was the use of trying to avoid trouble in the South, he -thought? Hell! Hadn't he tried? Hadn't he given up everything that -might antagonize the whites? Hadn't he tried in every way he could -to secure and retain their friendship? By God, he'd show them now! -The white-livered curs! The damned filthy beasts! Damn trying to be -a good Negro! He'd fight them to the death! He'd pay them back in -kind for what they had brought on him and his! - -He sprang to his feet. A fierce, unrelenting, ungovernable hatred -blazed in his eyes. He had passed through the most bitter five -minutes of his life. Denuded of all the superficial trappings of -civilization, he stood there the primal man—the wild beast, -cornered, wounded, determined to fight—fight—fight! The fire that -lay concealed in the flint until struck, now leaped up in a -devastating flame at the blows it had received! All the art of the -casuist with which he had carefully built his faith and a code of -conduct was cast aside and forgotten! He would demand and take the -last ounce of flesh—he would exact the last drop of blood from his -enemies with all the cruelty he could invent! - -His mother, whom he had forgotten in the intensity of his hatred, -became alarmed at the light in his eyes. He shook off the hand with -which she would have restrained him. - -"Oh, Ken!" she cried anxiously. "What're you going to do?" - -"I'm going to kill every damned ‘Cracker' I find!" She fell to her -knees in an agony of supplication and clung to him, the while he -tried to loose her arms from around his knees. He shook as with a -chill—his face had become vengeful, ghastly. Filled with a Berseker -rage, he was eager to tear with his hands a white man—any white -man—limb from limb. - -"Kenneth, my boy! My boy!" cried his mother. "You're all I've got -left! Don't leave me! Don't leave me! My little Bob is dead! My -Mamie is ruined! You're all I've got! You're all I've got! Don't -leave me, lambkins! Don't leave your old mother all alone, honey!" - -In her torture at the prospect of losing this, her last child, she -used again the endearing names she had called him when he was a babe -in her arms—endearments she had not used since. - -"Mamma, I've got to! I've got to! God, if I only can find those who -killed him!" he shouted. She, like a drowning person, clutched at -the fragile straw his last words implied. Her voice was almost a -prayer. - -"But you don't know, Ken, you don't know who was in the mob!" she -cried. "That Jim Archer and Charley Allen—they're the only ones -Mamie recognized! And they're dead—they've paid! My little Bob -killed them! Who're you going to get? How're you going to find out -to-night who the others were? You can't, Ken, you can't!". - -She realized this was her only hope. If she could only keep him in -the house the rest of the night, when morning came she was sure he -would be more calm. He would realize then how foolish and foolhardy -his intentions of the night before had been. She pleaded—she -begged—she moaned in her terror. He tried to shake her off. He did -loosen her grip around his knees where she had clung like death -itself. As he leaned over to pry her hands loose and was about to -succeed, she grasped his arm and held on. He tried to jerk his arm -loose and rush from the house. She was struggling now with that -fierce, grim, relentless tenacity and courage of the mother fighting -for her young. She held on. His jerks dragged her over the floor but -she was conscious neither of the act nor the pain. She would have -died there gladly if by so doing she could restrain her boy from -rushing forth to certain death. Oh, yes, he might get one or two -before he died. Maybe five or ten. But the odds were all against -him. Death would most surely overtake him before morning. - -Kenneth raged. He cursed in spite of himself. She did not even -comprehend what he said nor the significance of his words. She did -not even consciously hear them. He damned without exception every -white man living. The damned cowards! The filthy curs! The stinking -skunks, fighting a thousand against one! - -"Superior race"! "Preservers of civilization"! "Superior," indeed! -They called Africans inferior! They, with smirking hypocrisy, -reviled the Turks! They went to war against the "Huns" because of -Belgium! None of these had ever done a thing so bestial as these -"preservers of civilization" in Georgia! Civilization! Hell! The -damned hypocrites! - -The liars! The fiends! "White civilization"! Paugh! Black and brown -and yellow hands had built it! The white fed like carrion on the -rotting flesh of the darker peoples! And called their toil their -own! And burned those on whose bodies their vile civilization was -built! - -Bob had been right! Bob had been a man! He'd fought and died like a -man! He, Kenneth, with all his professed and vaunted wisdom, was the -coward! He cursed himself! Building a fool's paradise! A house of -cards! To hell with everything! What was life worth anyway? Why not -end it all in one glorious orgy of killing? - -In his agonized fulmination against the whites and in his vow of -vengeance on those who had dealt him so cruel and heart-sickening a -blow, Kenneth forgot those who had been and were true friends of the -black man—who had suffered and died that he might be free. He forgot -those who, though few in number and largely inarticulate, were -fighting for the Negro even in the South. Kenneth's grief, however, -was too deep and the blow too crushing for him to think of these in -his hour of despair. - -At length his raging subsided a little. His mother was pleading with -him with a fervour he had never believed she possessed. Snatches of -her words penetrated his mind. - -"… and who'll protect Mamie and me? … all alone … you're all we've -got! … need you … need you now as never before … mustn't leave us -now … mustn't leave …" - -He sank to the floor exhausted by the fierceness of his rage. A -feeble cry came from above stairs. "It's Mamie!" his mother -whispered, frightened. She left him lying there to rush to her other -child. Before she left she made Kenneth promise he wouldn't go out -before she returned. He lay on the floor as in a stupor. It was his -Gethsemane. He felt as though some giant hand was twisting his very -soul until it bled. He thought of the hours Mamie had lain in the -field after the fiends had accomplished their foul purpose on her. -Bleeding, torn, rayished! Mamie, always tender, so unselfish, so -unassuming—God, why hadn't he thought more of her and been more -considerate of her? No, he'd been so wrapped up in his own happiness -and future he'd never given her much attention or thought. Why -hadn't he? Why had he been so selfish? How could he make up to her -for all his remissness of the past? - -That brought to his mind what his mother had said. They did need him -now! More than ever before! How could he have started on his rampage -of revenge had his mother not held him? Where and on whom would he -have begun? - -But wasn't this cowardice not to exact some kind of revenge? He -hated himself at the mere thought of cowardice at this time. Good -God, he had had enough of that all along! Wouldn't Bob in death -curse him if he failed now to play the man? Or wouldn't it take more -courage to live? The thought comforted him. - -As though the sounds were worlds away, he heard his mother moving in -the room above as she ministered to Mamie's wants. He heard the -noises of the street. Miles away a dog barked. Nearer a rooster -crowed. He thought of a sermon Reverend Wilson had preached the -Sunday before. Of the Christ in his hour of betrayal. Of Peter -denying his Lord. And the cock crowing thrice. Wasn't he denying his -duty—his family—his conscience—his all? Back again over the same -ground he had already travelled so thoroughly, his mind went. … - -For hours he lay there. The noises of the street ceased. He heard no -more his mother above. Exhausted with the ordeal through which she -had passed, she had probably fallen asleep. … And yet he did not -move. He heard the clock in the hall strike eleven. … He counted the -strokes, marvelling the while that time was yet measured in hours -and minutes and days. … His soul was even as the body of a woman in -travail. … - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - -KENNETH lay on the floor he knew not how long. At last he awakened -to the realization that his telephone was ringing furiously. - -Subconsciously he was aware of the fact that it had been ringing for -some time. He lay there and let it ring. -Telephone—office—house—profession—life itself—all seemed vague and -nebulous phenomena remote from his existence far from him and as -uninteresting to him as life on Mars. - -The raucous dissonance continued. "R-r-r-r-r," the bell seemed to -scream in its existence. It was like a mosquito in a darkened room -when one wanted to get to sleep. "Damn the telephone!" he cried -aloud. "Let the fool thing ring its head off!"… - -He thought of Jane. He wondered if she would be content to remain in -Central City after the disasters to Mamie and Bob. If she didn't, -then they'd part. He was going to stay there if all hell froze over -until he found who had composed the mob that had killed Bob. Until -he had wreaked the utmost in vengeance upon them. … But Jane would -feel just as he did. She was no coward! Hadn't she been the one to -awaken him to the asininity of his own course in trying to keep away -from the race problem? No, she'd stick! She wasn't the quitting -kind! … - -The telephone bell shrilled as though it were human—it sounded like -a vinegar-dispositioned virago berating her spouse. It paused only, -apparently, to catch enough breath to break forth again. Its -shrieking reverberations beat upon his eardrums in wave after wave -of sound until it seemed as though he would go mad. "Why doesn't the -fool get it through his head that there's nobody here to answer?" he -exclaimed in vexation that bordered on hysteria. He pressed the -heels of his palms against his ears as tightly as he could. That was -better! He could hear himself think now. … - -Mamie and her mother couldn't stay in Central City, though. Too -terrible for them—especially for Mamie to stay here where she -couldn't help but see, every day, things that'd remind her of her -awful experience. And where fool people would come in with long -faces to sympathize with her and drive her mad. People were such -asses! Why didn't they have sense enough to show their sympathy by -staying away? Instead of coming in and sitting around, talking empty -nothings by the hour? Old Mrs. Amos would be that way. And -Mrs. Bradley. They were such nuisances. Wonder if he hadn't better -send Mamie and mamma to Philadelphia to his Uncle Will? Or would it -be best to send them to Virginia to his Uncle Jim? No, that wouldn't -do. Best for them to leave the South entirely. Where they could get -away from everything that'd remind them of Georgia. No, they'd go to -Philadelphia. Suppose Mrs. Tucker's about able to take some slight -nourishment now. Good Lord, had he performed the operation only -yesterday morning? - -That couldn't be possible! Too much has come in between then and -now. Must have operated on her in a previous existence. And died -since. Reincarnation? Yes, that's the word. Never thought he'd -actually experience it himself. … - -His arms and hands became tired from pressing on his ears. His ears -ached. He loosened the pressure on them a bit. The telephone was yet -ringing. Lord, he moaned, the thing will drive me crazy! Won't be -able to live long enough to get those damned scoundrels who murdered -Bob. He decided to answer it, curse the voice on the other end, and -hang up. He tried to get up from the floor. There was a terrible -pain in his legs. He was sore all over. He crawled over to the desk -in his office and painfully pulled himself to a seat in his office -chair. He stretched his arm out to pull the telephone to him. A -sharp twinge shot through his arm and he groaned. He caught the cord -in his hands and slowly pulled the instrument to him and placed the -receiver to his ear. At first he could not speak. He made several -ineffectual efforts. At last a faint, hoarse "Hello" was wafted into -the mouthpiece. - -"Oh, Rachel, I'm so glad to hear your voice. This is -Mrs. Ewing—Mrs. Roy Ewing over on Georgia Avenue. I've been trying -to get you for half a hour. Has your son come home from Atlanta -yet?" - -The voice went chattering on while Kenneth tried to moisten his -parched throat sufficiently to speak. It seemed to him that his -saliva-producing gland must have died along with his hope of a -peaceful existence in Central City. Finally, he was able to speak. -He answered Mrs. Ewing wearily: - -"This isn't Mrs. Harper, Mrs. Ewing. This is Dr. Harper." - -"Oh, my God! Why did you come back?" she exclaimed. - -Puzzled at her tone, Kenneth abruptly answered: "Why shouldn't I -have come back?" - -She laughed nervously - -"Nothing—oh, nothing. But I'm awfully sorry about what's happened." -At a disbelieving grunt that came to her over the wire, she hastened -to add: "Really I am—I am from the very bottom of my heart!" - -She went on philosophically before Kenneth could reply. - -"But everything'll come out all right, don't you fear. Doctor, I'm -so glad for one reason you're back. Mary's had a set-back and she's -in an awful fix. Dr. Bennett can't do nothing for her. I know it's -awful hard to ask you, but can't you come over and see what you⸺" - -"No, damn it, no!" shouted Kenneth into the mouthpiece. His voice -mounted higher and higher in the rage that possessed him. "No, I -hope she'll die—I hope she'll die! And every other white beast -that's living! No! No! No! No!" he shouted as though mad. - -He started to slam the receiver down upon its hook. The voice of -Mrs. Ewing came to him in an agonized moan and made him pause. - -"Oh, Doctor, don't take it out on my po' little Mary. I know just -how you feel, but don't blame it on her! Please, Doctor, please come -over and I'll never bother you again! If you don't come, I jus' know -she'll die!" she begged. - -Kenneth's fit of passion had passed. In its stead there came a cold, -terrifying calmness that was but another form of the raging torment -and fury in his breast. He spoke with biting directness into the -telephone: - -"Mrs. Ewing, if by raising one finger I could save the whole white -race from destruction, and by not raising it could send them all -straight down to hell, I'd die before I raised it! You've murdered -my brother, my sister's body, my mother's mind, and my very soul! -No, I know that," he said to her interjected remark, which he -repeated. "I know you didn't do it with your own hands! But you -belong to the race that did! And the race that's going to pay for -every murder it's committed!" - -He paused for breath and then continued his vitriolic diatribe -against the white race. It was relieving his brain, he found, to be -able thus to vent his spleen on a white person. He went on in the -same voice of deadly calm and precision of statement: - -"And where's that cowardly husband of yours?" he demanded in a voice -of rising fury. "Why didn't he come and ask me to save your -daughter? No, he's like the rest of the damned cowards—makes his -wife do it, thinking I'm fool enough not to know he's there at the -telephone telling you what to say. No, no, wait until I'm through! … -He's where? Atlanta? What's he doing there? Why did he leave his -daughter when he knew she might die any minute? Oh, no! You can't -feed me any bait like that! I'm through, I tell you—I'm through -listening to the lying flattery you white folks use to fool ignorant -and blind Negroes like me! What? Why—I don't see—don't understand! -Oh, well, I suppose I might as well, then. Yes, I'll be over within -ten minutes. Tell Dr. Bennett to wait there until I come. What? He's -gone! All right, I'll come! Good-bye!" - -Slightly puzzled, he hung up the receiver and sat for a minute -gazing at the desk pad in front of him, but seeing nothing. Why -should Roy Ewing have gone to Atlanta to see him? Ewing knew he'd be -back on Friday. He had told him so before leaving. It was mighty -strange for him to act that way. - -His mother entered the room, awakened by the sound of his shouting -over the telephone. She spoke to him apologetically for having left -him so long. - -"Mamie was so restless," she explained, "and when I got her quiet at -last, I must have fallen asleep sitting there by her bed." On her -face there came a wistful smile. "You see, I haven't been to sleep -for three days now." - -Kenneth went to her and put his arm around her. - -"That's all right, mamma, that's all right. I'm glad you did get a -minute's rest. You needed it. What's that? Oh, yes, I feel much -better now. The storm has passed for a time, I reckon. I'm going to -run over to the Ewings' for a minute—Mary's in a bad way. Oh, that's -all right, you needn't worry," he hastily interjected at his -mother's cry of alarm. "The streets are empty now—everybody's in -bed. I'll go there and come straight back as soon as Mary's resting -easily again," he promised in order to quiet her fears. "There won't -be anybody for me to see on the streets, much less start any trouble -with. You go to bed and I'll come in and sit with you for a few -minutes when I come back." - -With this promise Mrs. Harper had to be content. Her fears allayed, -Kenneth kissed her and helped her up the stairs to her room. Going -back to his office, he put the things in his bag he would be likely -to need, went out to the garage in the rear, cranked up the Ford, -and drove over to Georgia Avenue to treat a white patient less than -seventy-two hours after the double catastrophe which had descended -upon him and his family at the hands of those same white people. - -As he drove out of the yard, he heard his mother call from her -window: "Hurry back, sonny." It had been more than fifteen years -since she had last called him that. … He drove through the darkened -streets of Central City-down Lee Street past the deserted business -houses, past the Confederate Monument, and on across that -intangible, yet vivid line that separated the élite of the whites of -Central City from the less favoured. … - -His mind intent on his own tragedy, Kenneth drove on, guiding his -car without conscious volition, mechanically. His conscious mind was -too busy revolving the string of events and trying to find some -solid spot, it mattered not how small, on which he could set mental -foot. … - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - -FIFTEEN men sat around a table in an office on Lee Street. There was -above them a single electric-light bulb, fly-specked, without a -shade over it. At eleven o'clock they had silently crept up the -stairs after looking cautiously up and down the deserted expanse of -Lee Street to see if they were observed. Like some silent, creeping, -wolf-like denizen of the forest, each had stolen as noiselessly as -possible up the stairs. The window carefully covered, no ray of -light could be seen from the outside. Though unsigned, the -mysterious note each of the fifteen had received that morning had -brought them all together promptly. - -A fat man, with tiny eyes set close together, looking from amazing -convolutions of flesh which gave him the appearance of a -Poland-China hog just before slaughtering-time, was giving -instructions to the men as they eagerly and closely followed his -words. He occasionally emphasized his points by pounding softly on -the pine table before him with large, over-sized fists covered -profusely with red hair. He was clad in a nondescript pair of -trousers, a reddish faded colour from much wear and the red dust of -his native hills, a shirt open at the neck and of the same colour as -the trousers, the speaker's neck innocent of collar and tie. He was -ending his instructions: - -"… Now you-all mus' r'member all I said. You mus'n' fail! When the -accident happens"—here he laughed softly as he emphasized the word -"accident," and was rewarded by an appreciative titter from his -audience "when the accident happens, you ain't t'breathe a word to -anybody ‘bout it! Even th' others here to-night!" - -He paused impressively and allowed his eyes slowly to traverse the -group, resting upon each man in turn a penetrating, malevolent -stare. Measuring his words carefully, he spat them out like bullets -from a Browning gun. - -"Th' mos'—important—thing—you got to r'member is this! You're not—to -repo't—back to me or any off'cer—of the Invis'ble Empire!" He paused -again. "After—the "accident"—happens!" he added. - -"I reck'n that's all you need to know," he said in dismissal. "He -came back t'night from Atlanty! We've got the newspaper fixed! Ef -any of you is arrested, I don't reck'n She'ff Parker'll hol' you -long!" he concluded with a confident laugh in which his companion -joined. … - -Though there was none to hear or see, they dispersed with silent and -cautious movements and voices. They crept down the unlighted stairs, -hands extended, fingers touching the walls on either side to aid -them in making as little noise as possible. As the foremost reached -the landing at the botton, he drew back sharply as he was about to -step into the street. - -"Sh-h-h-h!" he cautioned the others behind him. "Somebody's comin' -lickety-split down the road in a Ford!" - -They all waited with bated breath. The leader peered forth -cautiously to see who it was stirring about at that time of night. -The others waited, poised on the stairs above him. - -Lee Street was bathed alternately in moonlight and shadow as a -vagrant moon wove its way in front of and behind small patches of -clouds. The clattering car approached—came abreast the doorway—and -passed rapidly by - -"It's that damn nigger himself!" he exclaimed to the men behind him. -"What'n th'hell's he doin' out this time of night ‘round here? An' -headed towards Georgy Avenue, too! It's damn funny!" - -There was an outburst of excited whispering. Various speculative -surmises were offered. None was able to offer a sensible reason for -Kenneth's nocturnal pilgrimage. One proposed that Kenneth be -followed to see where he went and why he went there. Afar off could -be heard the puttering of the engine. And then it stopped. - -"Ain't gone far," one of them declared. They set out to trail the -automobile. Before they had gone two blocks, they saw Kenneth down -the street as he tinkered with the engine of the car, the hood -raised. One of the wires connecting with a sparkplug had become -loosened. He quickly screwed it tight again, started the engine, and -drove off, as he was closely watched from the shadows of trees and -fences by his trailers. They pushed forward to keep as close as they -could, hoping to be guided by the sound of the engine. - -He drove but a few yards more and then drew up and stopped in front -of Roy Ewing's house. Getting out, he took his bag from the floor of -the car and entered the house quickly as the door opened to admit -him. - -There was another short session of excited whispering among the -watchers. - -"What'n the hell's he goin' to Roy Ewing's house for?" one of them -demanded. "Roy Ewing went t'Atlanty this mornin' on important -business! Heard him tell George Baird down t' the bank to-day he was -goin'!" - -"Th' damn sneaky bastard!" another one declared venomously. "I -thought he was mighty slick, but didn't know he was foolin' ‘round -with a woman like Roy Ewing's wife! I allus said these niggers who -went to France an' ran with those damn French-women'd try some of -that same stuff when they came back! Ol' Vardaman was right! Ought -never t' have let niggers in th'army anyhow!" - -And so it went. They had caught the "slick nigger" with the goods on -him! They talked eagerly among themselves in subdued tones as to -what would be the best course to pursue. Some were all for rushing -into the house and catching them together. None of them entertained -the opinion that Kenneth could have gone to Roy Ewing's house with -Roy Ewing out of town for any other purpose than for sexual -adventure. Their convictions were strengthened when the light in the -lower hall which had been shining when the door was opened to admit -Kenneth was extinguished, and another appeared in a few minutes in -the bedroom on the second floor which faced on the streets, and the -shades lowered. … - -The fat man who had been speaking in the office on Lee Street a few -minutes before abruptly ended the conjecturing. - -"‘Tain't no use t' stand here all night talkin?!" he asserted. -"We'll jus' stay here and see what's goin' t' happen! Looks damn -funny t' me! Tom! You ‘n' Sam ‘n' Jake go ‘roun to th' back do' an' -watch there! Bill! You ‘n' Joe ‘n' Henry watch that side do'! Me ‘n' -the res'll stay here and watch th' front do'! Then, when he sneaks -out, we'll get him any way he comes!" … - -Within the house, Kenneth, all unaware of what was going on outside, -was listening to Mrs. Ewing as she excitedly told him of Mary's -change for the worse, and as she explained her husband's absence. -She was so worried over her daughter's condition that Kenneth -realized she would never be able to solve the mystery of her words -over the telephone until he had done what he could for Mary. He -therefore asked no questions but followed her up the stairs to -Mary's room, although his brain was whirling, it seemed to him, like -the blades of an electric fan. - -Mary Ewing was in a worse condition than even her mother knew. This -Kenneth realized as soon as he looked into her flushed face and -measured her pulse and temperature. He questioned Mrs. Ewing as to -her daughter's diet. The cause of her relapse became clear to him -when she told him with a naïve innocence that since Mary had begged -so hard that day for something to eat, she had, with Dr. Bennett's -consent, given her a glass of milk and a small piece of fried -chicken. Kenneth set to work. He knew it was useless to berate the -mother for disregarding his express orders that Mary should be given -no solid food for at least ten days. He knew that Dr. Bennett's word -counted more than his. This in spite of the fact that Dr. Bennett -had done nothing but the ordinary measuring-out of pills and -panaceas which he had been taught almost half a century ago in a -third or fourth-rate Southern medical school. Dr. Bennett knew -medicine no later than that of the early eighties. But Dr. Bennett -was a white man—he a Negro! - -As he laboured, he suffered again the agony of those hours he had -spent on the floor in his reception room earlier that night. It -brought to life again his bitterness. His skin was black! Therefore, -though he had studied in the best medical school in America, though -he had been an interne for one whole year in the city hospital at -New York, though he had had army experience, though he had spent -some time in study in the best university in France, and, save in -pre-war Germany, the best medical school in Europe, his word and his -medical knowledge and skill were inferior to that of an ignorant, -lazy country doctor in Georgia! When, oh, when, he thought, will -Americans get sense enough to know that the colour of a man's skin -has nothing whatever to do with that man's ability or brain? - -A fleeting, devilish temptation assailed him. He tried to put it -from him. He succeeded for a time. And then back it came, leering -loathsomely, grinning in impudent, demoniac fashion at him! Here, -lying helpless before him, was a representative of that race which -had done irreparable, irremedial harm to him and his. Why not let -her serve as a vicarious sacrifice for that race? It wouldn't be -murder! He did not need to do anything other than hold back the -simple things needed to save her life. No one would ever know. He'd -tell the Ewings that they had killed their own daughter by giving -food she should not have had. Old Bennett didn't know enough to -detect that he, Kenneth Harper, a Negro, a "damned nigger," had -failed to do the things he could have done. - -The thought charmed him. He toyed with it in his mind. He examined -it from every possible angle. Yes, by God! He'd do it! It'd serve -the Ewings right! The punishment would be just what they deserved! -It would be a double one. They'd lose their daughter. And they'd be -eaten up with remorse the rest of their days because by disobeying -his orders in giving food to Mary Ewing they themselves, her -parents, had killed her! Murderers! - -That's what they'd be! Like all the rest of their stinking brood! - -He pictured the scene in which he'd play the leading rôle on the -following day. The pleasurable tingle this thought brought him -caused a hard smile to come to his lips. Mary'd be lying downstairs -in the parlour in her coffin. Roy Ewing and his damned, snivelling -wife would be howling and crying and mourning upstairs. He, Kenneth -Harper, a Negro, a "damned nigger," would be standing triumphantly -over them, castigating and flaying their very souls with his biting -words of denunciation! Tongue in cheek, he'd rage! He'd tell them -they were fools, villains, murderers, child-killers! - -The words he'd use sprang to his mind. "You murdered Mary -yourselves!" he'd say. "Didn't I tell you not to give her any food -for ten days?" he'd demand. And then they'd shiveringly admit that -he had told them those very words. "But, no," he'd go on, "you -wouldn't listen to a ‘damned nigger's' word! Old Bennett, who -doesn't know as much about medicine as a horse-doctor—probably -less—he's got a white skin! And mine's black! Therefore—" his -sarcasm would be great right there as he bowed in mock -humility—"_therefore_ you listened to him instead of me! And, doing -so"—here another low bow—"you killed your own daughter!" Here his -voice would rise in violent denunciation: "You're murderers! Yes, -that's what you are! You're murderers! _You've murdered your own -daughter! And I'm glad of it! I wish every one of you and your dirty -breed lay in the coffin with her! You, who think you're God's own -pet little race! You, who think that all the wisdom in the world is_ -_wrapped in your dirty little carcasses! And all the virtue! And all -the brains! Everything! Everything! EVERYTHING!"_ - -Oh, yes, he'd finish with infinite scorn: _"And you've got nothing! -Nothing! NOTHING! Nothing but lies and deceit and conceit and -filthy, empty pride!"_ - -Lord, but he'd be magnificent! Booth and Tree and Barrymore and all -the rest of the actors they called great, rolled into one, couldn't -equal his scorn, his raising and lowering of voice, his tremendous -climax! And then he'd walk magnificently from the room, leaving them -huddled there like whipped curs! - -His maniacal exultation swept him on and on. He had stopped -ministering to the sick girl on the bed before him. He leaned back -with a terrible leer on his face as he watched the half-unconscious -form before him struggling in her pain. The strain of the horrible -day which had started out so radiantly and optimistically had been -too much for him. He gloried in the kindly fate that had delivered -so opportunely into his hands one who should serve as a vicarious -victim for those who had struck him mortal blows without cause. He -felt that Bob, whatever he was, was smiling even now in approval of -his actions. … - -The minutes sped by. Half past twelve! One o'clock! Half past one! -Mrs. Ewing sat anxiously by the bed, not daring to speak. She had -misinterpreted Kenneth's smile. It had frightened her a little. It's -because he'd been through so much to-day, she thought. I'll turn -down the light so it won't be too great a glare. She did. It never -occurred to her that Kenneth's smile could mean anything other than -that he was gaining ground in his fight for her little girl's life. - … - -Outside, the fifteen waited. … Minutes, hours passed. It grew cold. -The strain was getting irksome. They watched the room where shone -only a faint light now. They pictured what was going on in that -room. It made their blood boil and grow cold alternately. Two -o'clock! They began to grumble. "Le's go in an' get the damn nigger -and roast him alive!" some demanded. "We can't do that!" the fat man -declared. "The damned bitch'll yell and wake up the neighbours! She, -a _white_ woman, with her nigger lover! Can't let it get out she -consented! We'll get him outside an' say he was unsuccessful in -th'attempt!"… With that they had to be satisfied. They grumbled, but -they knew he was right. Can't let the niggers know a white woman -willingly went to bed with a nigger! … That'd never do! Must -preserve the reputation of white women! … - -Kenneth still sat by Mary's bed. His eyelids felt heavy. It was hard -to keep them open. Revenge began to lose its savour. Wasn't so sweet -as it had seemed. What's the use, he thought, of telling what he had -planned to the Ewings? They wouldn't understand. They'd never seen -great actors on the stage. All they'd seen was mushy movie actors -and silly women. Like casting pearls before swine! They'd never -appreciate the wonder of his acting! No, not acting. Irony. Sarcasm. -Vials of wrath. Beakers of gall. - -Why does the air seem so heavy? Can't keep eyes open. Feel like -bathing in chloroform. - -Kenneth awakened suddenly from his stupor. Mary was coughing -horribly—gasping—strangling. Her mother cried out sharply. Kenneth -rapidly regained his senses. God! That had been an awful dream. -Feverishly he worked. He called to his aid every artifice known to -him. Valiantly, eagerly, desperately he toiled. Mary had been almost -gone. After what seemed hours, she began to recover the ground she -had lost while Kenneth gloated over his fancied revenge. My God! -Just think I was about to let her die! May the Lord forgive me! … - -At last she passed the danger point. She sank into a deep slumber. -She was safe! - -Kenneth, wearied beyond measure, rose and stupidly, weariedly, made -preparations to go home. - -Mrs. Ewing stopped him. - -"You haven't asked me to tell you why Mr. Ewing went to Atlanta," -she said. - -Dully he asked why he had gone away with his daughter in such a -critical condition, what she had meant by her cryptic remarks over -the telephone. She spoke gladly. - -"I couldn't tell you over the telephone," she explained. "If anyone -had been listening, it would have been bad for all of us. He went to -Atlanta this morning—it's yestiddy morning, now—to do two things. -First, to warn you not to come back to Central City until things has -blown over, because he'd heard threats against you. And most of all -to see the Gov'nor!" - -"See the Governor for what?" Kenneth asked. - -"Why, to get him to do somethin' to protect you!" she cried as -though amazed at his ignorance in not seeing. - -"Protect me?" Kenneth echoed with a rising, questioning inflection. - -"Yes, to protect you. Y' see, he knew She'ff Parker couldn't be -depended on 'cause he's in with this gang 'round here. He knew the -only chance was through the Guy'nor." - -"But why should _I_ need protection now?" Kenneth asked wonderingly. -"Good God, haven't these devils done enough to my family and me -already?" - -She explained patiently as though talking to a child. Neither of -them realized the unusualness of their situation. Both had forgotten -race lines, time, circumstances, and everything else in the -tenseness of the moment. - -_"B'cause the Ku Kluxers are after you!"_ she whispered. - -"Why should they be after me? I've done nothing! My Lord, I've tried -in every way I could since I've been back in this rotten place to -keep away from trouble⸺" he declared querulously. - -"Wait a minute an' I'll tell you!" she interrupted him. She took his -arm and led him into the next room where they would not disturb -Mary. "Roy heard them talking about you and cursin' you out about -some kind of a society you've been formin' among the nig—the -coloured people. He told 'em they oughter let coloured men like you -alone 'cause you were a credit to the community. _The nex' mornin' -he foun' a warnin' on the front po'ch from the Kluxers, sayin' he'd -better stop defendin' niggers or somethin'd happ'n to him!"_ - -"Oh, that's all tommyrot, Mrs. Ewing!" Kenneth declared in a -disgusted and disdainful tone. "These silly night-riders wouldn't -dare do anything to your husband! I don't believe they'd even try -and do anything to me!" - -"You mustn't talk that way!" she sharply broke in. "They'd do -_anythin'!_ Roy says She'ff Parker's one of ‘em, and a whole lot mo' -of the folks you wouldn' believe was in it!" - -Kenneth's voice became hard and bitter. - -"Mrs. Ewing, I've tried—God knows I have—to keep away from trouble -with these white people in Central City. If they bother me, I'm -going to fight—you hear me I'm going to fight—and fight like hell! -They'll get me in the end—I know that—but before I go I'm going to -take a few along with me!" - -He left her standing there and went back into Mary's room. He -secured his bag and started down the stairs. Mrs. Ewing ran after -him and caught him just as he opened the front door. She had to -seize his arm to hold him, as he was impatient to be gone. He felt -as though he never wanted to see a white face again as long as he -lived. He did not know, nor did Mrs. Ewing, that several white faces -were looking at them as he stood there with Mrs. Ewing clinging to -his arm. - -"You will be ca'ful until Roy comes back, won't you, Doctor?" she -pleaded. - -Promising her impatiently, without even comprehending what he -promised, he ran down the steps, eager to get home. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - - -KENNETH did not see the dark forms that crouched like tigers in the -shrubbery on either side of the long walk that led to the gate. But -as he reached the ground, he turned just in time to see a shadowy -body hurl itself upon him. Instinctively his right arm shot outwards -and upwards. His clenched fist met flush on the point of the jaw the -man who had attempted to hurl him to the ground. His would-be -assailant gave a deep grunt and fell to the ground at Kenneth's -feet. - -Before he hit the ground, however, Kenneth found himself surrounded -by a cursing, howling crowd. He lashed out blindly—hitting wherever -he saw what seemed to be a form. Madly, desperately, gloriously he -fought! For a time he was more than a match for the fifteen that -assailed him. He did not know that they had expected to take him by -surprise. The surprise was now theirs. He heard a voice shout at him -in rage: "Sleepin' with a white woman, eh! You dirty black bastard!" -With superhuman strength born of hatred, bitterness, and despair, he -lunged at the speaker. Almost at the same time that his fist landed -in the man's face, his foot went into his stomach with a vengeance. -He put into the blow and the kick all the repressed hatred and -passion the day's revelations had brought forth. - -It seemed to him he had been fighting there for hours, days, months! -The odds fifteen to one against him—his strength was as of the -fifteen combined. No Marquis of Queensberry rules here! He knew it -was a fight to the death, and he yelled aloud for sheer joy of the -combat! In the darkness his assailants could not lay hands on him, -for he was here, there, everywhere—hitting, kicking, whirling, -ducking blows, jumping this way and that—a veritable dervish of the -deserts in his gyrations! One after another his opponents went down -at his feet! Windows began to be raised at the tumult. Shouts and -cries of inquiry filled the air. But still Kenneth fought on. - -At last he saw an opening. Out went his fist! Down went the man who -met it with his face! Shaking off one who sought to grasp him from -behind, Kenneth stepped over the body of the one who had just gone -down before him, and, like an expert half-back running in a broken -field, darted out to the sidewalk. -Fifty—forty—thirty—twenty—ten—five more yards and he'd be in his car -and away! At last, he reached it! Feverishly he wrenched open the -door! He started to spring in! They'd never get him now! - -A shot rang out! Another! Another! Kenneth's arm flew up. With a low -moan he sank to the street beneath the car. He tried to rise. He -couldn't. The bullet had shattered his leg! On they came, howling, -gloating fiendishly—their rage increased by the mess they'd made of -what was intended should be an easy job! Kenneth saw them come! He -groaned and tried to draw the gun from his hip pocket. It hung in -his clothing, pinned down as he was! If I only can get one or two of -them, he thought, before they get me! On they came! The gun stuck! -They had him! They pulled him out from beneath the car! … - -The next morning, in a house in the coloured section of Central -City, there sat a girl. … Her eyes were dry. … Her face was that of -despair. … Her grief was too deep for tears. … In her lap there lay -a soft, white, lustrous, fluffy mass. … It looked like cream -charmeuse … looked like a wedding-gown. … A woman entered the room. -… Her eyes were haggard. … Around her shoulders an apron. … She'd -put it on, thinking it a shawl. … - -"Honey! Honey!" she cried. "Mamie was sleeping … so I ran over a -minute."… She put her arms around the younger woman tenderly. … The -dam broke. … The relief of tears came. … Hot, blinding, scalding -tears rained down on the soft mass that now would never be used. … -And the women cried together. … - -In the newspapers of the country there appeared the same day an -Associated Press dispatch. It was sent out by Nat Phelps, editor of -the Central City _Dispatch_ and local agent for the Associated -Press. It read: - - ANOTHER NEGRO LYNCHED IN GEORGIA - - CENTRAL CITY, Ga., Sept. 15. — "Doc" Harper, a negro, was lynched - here to-night, charged with attempted criminal assault on a white - woman, the wife of a prominent citizen of this city. The husband - was away from the city on business at the time, his wife and young - daughter, who is seriously ill, being alone in the house. Harper - evidently became frightened before accomplishing his purpose and - was caught as he ran from the house. He is said to have confessed - before being put to death by a mob which numbered five thousand. He - was burned at the stake. - - This is the second lynching in Central City this week. On Thursday - morning Bob Harper, a brother of the Negro lynched to-day, was - killed by a posse after he had run amuck and killed two young white - men. No reason could be found for their murder at the hands of the - Negro, as they had always borne excellent reputations in the - community. It is thought the Negro had become temporarily insane. - - In a telegram to the Governor to-day, Sheriff Parker reported that - all was quiet in the city and he anticipated no further trouble. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FIRE IN THE FLINT *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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