“Just hear that chap singing,” said Marmor with a ghastly smile:
“We’re going to redeem South Carolina to-day. This is the beginning of the redemption of my Caroline.” The poor, maudlin fellow sat upon his horse near the corner of the street hard by, and improvised a lengthy political madrigal evidently to his own exquisite delight.
“I reckon you’ve got the right of it Doc,” said Marmor; “the political side of this fuss swallows up all the rest. The fuss on the Fourth, was only got up for making a spot to strike at.”
“Well,” said Doe, both goes together; for all the politics they know is to put the niggers down, and themselves up atop; and they are trying to fool the ignorant ones into believing that the constitutions has all run out, so they won’t try to take the law on ’em.”
“They’d better look out, or they may feel the law themselves. If Chamberlain can’t enforce it, there is a United States, they’ll find!”
“I reckon so! I reckon so!” chimed in all present.
“Capt. Doc,” said Elder Jackson, “you must remember that it is not your own life and your company’s lives that is in danger, but that of every colored individual in town; and the happiness and prosperity of all will be at their mercy if a fight takes place; and so I beg you to come to terms with Baker. Bend and apologize a little for the sake of them that had nothing to do with the Fourth of July difficulty.”
“What can I do? Just tell me. I haven’t failed to think of that, I tell you. That part of it is the biggest trouble to me now.”
“It is Watta that has offended them the most,” said Springer; “for he got so mad last Thursday. He’s got too much white blood in him to stand their abuse, and he was nigh about as abusive as Hanson Baker himself, that day.