“Yes, I has; I voted the ’publican ticket all the time.”
“Well, you don’t intend to say you want to vote it?”
“If this fuss is about, I sha’n’t vote no kind of a ticket.”
Another horseman on the opposite side of the narrow street overheard the last remark, and approached.
“Harris, I know you,” said he. “We was boys at the same time, and have known each other all the while along; and I know that you are a nigger that has got good sense, good common sense. You see where this nigger is lying, here?” [They had just come upon the body of John Carr.] “Yes, sir; I see him.”
“Well, just so will we lay you, if you ever vote the Republican ticket again.”
“Well, sir, I will not vote no kind of a ticket.”
“No, —— that’s the plan,” said the proud Southern, “and we intend to carry it out; and the only way for you to save yourself is to come over and vote with us; because we know that you know mighty well, when you vote against us you are voting against your interest.”
“I didn’t know it was so much against your interest as to kill a man,” replied Harris. “I had no idea that it was any such thing as that.”
“Well, you see what the consequence is, and we’re going to carry this State, and we intend to do it if we have to kill every nigger, and this rascally Governor too; he is the head of all the thieves in the State, and the white people don’t intend to stand it no longer; they intend to break it up.”