CHAPTER ONE
"'Scriminatin' 'G'inst Nigga's"
"Do you read d' papers?"
"A' co'se I does. Wha' kind-a 'sinuations y're tryin' t' pass on me, nigga?" said one, whose feelings were, at that moment, very much injured.
The heavy train pulled cumbersomely to the summit, and stopped a moment, while the switch engine attached to the rear, was uncoupled. A moment later, it continued on its way.
Miles to the rear and below Effingham it struggled for one brief moment, and then, as a curve in the mountain was being made, it finally disappeared from view.
Sidney Wyeth settled back in his seat in the front end of the Jim Crow car, and, with his feet spread over the seat ahead, prepared himself languidly to enjoy the four hundred odd miles that were before him.
Only half a car, possibly not that much, was given over to the use of the colored passengers. It was as comfortable as the other part of the train, however, so no discrimination was evident. The portion given to them was, of course, next to the baggage car; while far to the rear, as he observed when the train rounded a curve, fully eight or ten cars were more or less filled with white passengers. About half the number were Pullmans.
"Den 'f y' read d' papers, yu autta know 'bout dis 'scrimination dat is a-goin' on up dere in Washington," he overheard between three or four Negroes a few seats to the rear.