"Bully," he repeated evenly and then looked up with a puzzled expression.
"Look here, Bud," he began quietly, "you've got me up a tree. These editorials in The Eagle and Phoenix cussin' the Klan——"
"You don't like them?"
"Not a little wee bit!"
The editor smiled:
"You've got Scotch blood in you, Mac—that's what's the matter with you——"
"Same to you, sir."
"But my great-great-grandmother was a Huguenot and the French, you know, had a saving sense of humor. The Scotch are thick, Mac!"
"Well, I'm too thick to know what you mean by lambastin' our only salvation. The Ku Klux Klan have had just one parade—and there hasn't been a barn burnt in this county or a white woman scared since, and every nigger I've met to-day has taken off his hat——"
"Are you a member of the Klan, Mac?" The question was asked with his face turned away.