“Yes, that is just it,” said Watta. “You men have been keeping that back. Why should we go to General Baker? Why doesn’t he come to us if he wants to see us? There are no drunken rowdies here for him to fear. Two men drove into our ranks, an organized a legally chartered company of the State militia, with loyal guns in our loyal hands, and a flag which brought us freedom from these old masters—the right to stand up like men, and not fear their nigger-catching blood-hounds; and we have sworn to be true to that flag—to the United States, and to the State, and ourselves, and to take care of these guns that belong to the State, and to yield them up only to lawful authority. These two nigger-catchers whose occupation is gone, drove into our ranks; and we, like a set of cowards, opened ranks and let them go through; and now they bring this ex-confederate General, who got the only title he has and of which he and they are so proud, in fighting the United States; they bring this General Baker here, and he asks us to go down to old Baker’s feet and apologize—for what? I don’t know; and to give up our guns that we have sworn to protect from all enemies of the Union, and all unauthorized persons—to give them to this ex-confederate General, who boasts to-day, and is applauded by these, his old confederate soldiers around him to-day, for what he did against the Government. He, surrounded by those who love and revere him for what he did to destroy the Union and keep us and our parents and children in slavery—he demands our guns and ourselves! Pretty National Guards!! Which are we, men, cowards or traitors?”
“Don’t take your guns, and may be possible you can get along without giving the guns up. I surely don’t want you to be traitors,” said the Elder; “but I trust an apology will do.”
“And I trust no such thing,” said Doc. “And where shall we be after this, living or dead? It won’t make much difference. They want to break us up! that’s it—and enslave us!”
“Where shall we be? On our knees forever at their feet,” replied Watta; “that is, if a single man of us ever got away alive, which I’ll warrant we never should if we refused to give up our guns.”
“But remember, there’ll be bloodshed if you don’t go,” said Elder Jackson. “Better humble yourselves than be killed.”
“And remember, too, the women and children, and the property,” added Springer.
“You men is mighty thoughtful; suppose yo’ ’go yo’selves. ’Twouldn’t be no blood shed if they got killed, I reckon yo’ think,” said a man from the ranks.
They had retired to an upper room, and Kanrasp approached a window looking towards Dunn’s store. Doc followed, and then Watta, and then others.
Still more armed men were seen coming into the town, and the mob around the General’s headquarters was more dense and disorderly.