CHAPTER XXII—THE DANGER OF PLAYING WITH FIRE
THE following Saturday the Rev. John Durham preached at a cross roads school house in the woods about ten miles from Hambright. He preached every Saturday in the year at such a mission station. He was fond of taking Charlie with him on these trips. There was an unusually large crowd in attendance, and the Preacher was much pleased at this evidence of interest. It had been a hard community to impress. At the close of the services, while the Preacher was shaking hands with the people, Charlie elbowed his way rapidly among the throng to his side.
“Doctor, there’s a nigger man out at the buggy says he wants to see you quick,” he whispered.
“All right, Charlie, in a minute.”
“Says to come right now. It’s a matter of life and death, and he don’t want to come into the crowd.”
A troubled look flashed over the Preacher’s face and he hastily followed the boy, fearing now a sinister meaning to his great crowd.
“Preacher,” said the negro looking timidly around, “dc Ku Klux is gwine ter kill ole Uncle Rufus Lattimore ter night. I come ter see ef you can’t save him. He aint done nuthin’ in God’s work ’cept he would’n’ pull his waggin clear outen de road one day fur dat redheaded Allan McLeod ter pass, en he cussed ’im black and blue en tole ’im he gwine git eben wid ’im.”
“How do you know this?”
“I wuz huntin’ in de woods en hear a racket en dim’ er tree. En de Ku Kluxes had der meetin’ right under de tree. En I hear ev’ry word.”