“You can’t resist the Freedman’s Bureau, Nelse.”
“What dat Buro got ter do wid me, Marse John?”
“They’ve got everything to do with you, my boy. They have absolute power over all questions between the Negro and the white man. They can prohibit you from working for a white person without their consent, and they can fix your wages and make your contracts.”
“Well, dey better lemme erlone, or dere’ll be trouble in dis town, sho’s my name’s Nelse.”
“Don’t you resist their officer. Come to me if you get into trouble with them,” was the Preacher’s parting injunction.
Nelse made his way out leading Charlie by the hand, and bowing his giant form in a quaint deferential way to the white people he knew. He seemed proud of his association in the church with the whites, and the position of inferiority assigned him in no sense disturbed his pride. He was muttering to himself as he walked slowly along looking down at the ground thoughtfully. There was infinite scorn and defiance in his voice.
“Bu-ro! Bu-ro! Des let ’em fool wid me! I’ll make ’em see de seben stars in de middle er de day!”