“I wonder where Deacon Atwood is?” asked Den Bardum.
“He a’n’t there, you may be shor. He’ll talk big, and put the rest up, but keep safe hisself,” said Jesse.
“How about that Sheriff’s office?” and Penny looked significantly at both Jesse and Den.
“That’s so,” said Den, “we three did promise to get him nominated on the Republican ticket, didn’t we? He was mighty in love with our Governor then.”
“But the Governor won’t support this kind of doings,” said Roome.
“Goodness gracious! Just hear the guns!” said Penny, “We’ll see fire pretty soon. They’ll be burning houses, certain.”
“I do hope this isn’t our folks begun this,” said Jesse. “I hope they’ll keep inside the law, and then the United States can protect us, and not let the white folks here kill us all off. But if our folks begun this, the good Laud knows what will become of us all. If Deacon Atwood goes in for this kind of thing, I’ll go back on him; for I won’t stick to any body that violates the law. My motto is to punish every man, white and black, that violates the law. It does seem mighty hard to stand here, and hear them guns, and believe that somebody’s getting killed; but I feel in my breast that it is the right thing to do. Does any of you know who’s gone over from Bean Island?—any of the neighbors?”
“Of the white folks? or the colored?”
“Either one.”