Gabriel Tolliver: A Story of Reconstruction

by Joel Chandler Harris

Slowly the Savannah train backed in, and slowly and carelessly Major Perdue sauntered along the raised floor. They had decided that the prisoners would most likely be in the second-class coach, and they purposed to make that coach the scene of their sham duel. It was a very delicate matter to decide just when to begin operations. A moment too soon or too late would be decisive. When this point was referred to Mr. Sanders, he settled it at once. "What's your mouth for, Gus? Shoot wi' that tell the time comes to use your gun. And the Major has got about as much mouth as you. Talk over the rough places, an' talk loud. Don't whisper; rip out a few damns an' then cut your caper. This is about the only chance you'll have to cuss the Major out wi'out gittin' hurt. I wisht I was in your shoes; I'd rake him up one side an' down the other. You can stand to be cussed out in a good cause, I reckon, Major."

"Yes—oh, yes! It'll make my flesh crawl, but I'll stand it like a baby."

"Don't narry one on you try to be too polite," said Mr. Sanders, and this was his parting injunction.

The two men were the length of the car apart when the Savannah train came to a standstill. "Perdue! they tell me that you have been hunting for me all over the city," said Mr. Tidwell. He was a trained speaker, and his voice had great carrying power. The firemen of both trains heard it distinctly, caught the note of passion in it and looked curiously out of their cabs.

"Yes, I've been hunting you, and now that I've found you you'll not get away until you apologise to me for the language you have used about me," cried Major Perdue. He was not as loud a talker as Mr. Tidwell, but his voice penetrated to every part of the building.

"What I've said I'll stand to," declared Mr. Tidwell, "and if you think I have been trying to keep out of your way, you will find out differently, you blustering blackguard!" (The Major insisted afterward that Tidwell took advantage of the occasion to give his real views.)

"Are you ready, you cowardly hellian?" cried the Major, apparently in a rage.

"As ready as you will ever be," replied Tidwell hotly. He was the better actor of the two.

And then just as the prisoners were coming out of the coach—as soon as Gabriel, lean and haggard, had reached the floor of the station, Major Perdue whipped out his pistol and a shot rang out, clear and distinct, and it was immediately reproduced from the further end of the car by Mr. Tidwell, and then the shooting became a regular fusillade. There was a wild scattering on the part of the crowd assembled in the station, a scuffling, scurrying panic, and in the midst of it all Gabriel ducked his head, and made a rush with the rest. He had been handcuffed, but his wrist was nearly as large as his hand, and he had found early in his experience with these bracelets that by placing his thumb in the palm of his hand, he would have no difficulty in freeing himself from the irons. This he had accomplished without much trouble, as soon as he started out of the car, and when he ducked his head and ran, he had nothing to impede his movements.

And Gabriel was always swift of foot, as Cephas will tell you. On the present occasion, he brought all his strength, and energy, and will to bear on his efforts to escape. Running half-bent, he was afraid the crowd which he saw all about him, pushing and shoving, and apparently making frantic efforts to escape, would give him some trouble. But strangely enough, this struggling crowd seemed to help him along. He saw men all around him with uniforms on, and wearing queerly shaped hats. They opened a way before him and closed in behind him. He heard a sharp cry, "Prisoner escaped!" and he heard the energetic commands of the officer in charge, but still the crowd opened a way in front of him, and closed up behind him. This pathway, formed of struggling firemen, led Gabriel away from the main entrance, and conducted him to the side, where there was an opening between the pillars. Not twenty feet away was the countryman with his queer-looking team. He was still complaining of the way he had been taken in by the town fellers who had told him that the station was a cotton warehouse.