"Yes; the women to the turpentine, and the men to the timber."
The train had now come into a land of swamp. As far as eyes could see, there was a profusion of vines and palm leaves. He wondered if that was where the palm leaf fans came from. If so, the harvest was abundant. For miles and miles the swamp was thick with them, and they appeared to be all of fan size. Water stood a foot deep, while the track rose, perhaps, upwards of four or five feet above it all. The trees were a strange variety to him, while nowhere for miles did it appear possible for anyone to live. The mosquitoes, he judged, must surely find this place a haven when the days were warm; while fever could fairly thrive.
Now the train had left the deeper forests, and was rolling across numerous trestles that stood high above the water. Great lagoons were crossed, where large birds, sea gulls and others not so large, flew about undisturbed. Miles away at last, rose church spires and ship hoists, and he then knew they were approaching a city that was a great seaport.
A half hour later, they stood in the station. He found his way out over the tracks and into the station, where he entered the colored waiting room and lunch counter. They were supposed to stop twenty minutes there; but, before the lunch he had ordered was served, he observed the train pulling out. He tore out and was about to pass through a gate that was open, but was halted by a young white man, who informed him that it was the gate white people passed through.
"But I'm traveling on that train, and it is pulling out," he cried frantically.
"Don't make any difference," said the other coldly. "Enter through the niggers' gate," and pointed to the rear. Wyeth tore down there, but it was closed and locked. He gave up. Aboard the train was his luggage, while he must stand and see it go on without him, simply for the sake of a rule, that Negroes and whites cannot walk through the same gate. He was disgusted over such an occurrence, and stood watching his train disappear. It had gone well toward the end of the yards, when it came to a stop, while the locomotive attached thereto, whistled two or three times. Another man came to the gate, and Wyeth said to him:
"I'm traveling on that train. Can I not pass through this gate and catch it?"
He was permitted to, and breathed a deep drawn sigh. As he passed the fop who kept him back, he gave him a look, and wished they were both in the Rosebud Country at that moment....
A waiter, who had seen him go into the station, had the vestibule of the diner open, and it was through this he entered, as he caught the moving train.
"I knew you would get balled up!" he exclaimed. "I saw your controversy at the gate.... And wasn't surprised, for you see, this is a white man's country." Thereupon he smiled a hard, dry smile. Wyeth passed forward to the Jim Crow car, and forgot the incident, for it was best so.