“Get up and come out quick. Hell’s broke loose.”
KU KLUX—“AWFUL FORMS WRAPPED LIKE GHOSTS IN WINDING-SHEETS.”
When Leech came out, Still pointed him to a picture drawn with red chalk on the floor of the portico, a fairly good representation of the “Indian-killer.” There were also three crosses cut in the bark of one of the trees in front of the door.
“What does that mean?”
“Means some rascals are trying to scare you: we’ll scare them.”
But Still was not reassured. Anything relating to the “Indian-killer” always discomposed him. He had to take several drinks to bring back his courage—and when about breakfast-time the news began to come to them of the visitation that had been made through the county during the night, Leech, too, began to look pale.
By mid-day they knew the full extent and completeness of the stroke. A new and unknown force had suddenly arisen. The negroes were paralyzed with terror. Many of them believed that the riders were really supernatural, and they told, with ashy faces, of the marvellous things they had done. Some of them had said that they had just come from hell to warn them, and they had drunk bucketfuls of water, which the negroes could hear “sizzling” as it ran down their throats.
By dusk both Leech and Still had disappeared. They saw that the organization of the negroes was wholly destroyed, and unless something were done, and done immediately, they would be stampeded beyond hope. They hurried off to the city to lay their grievances before the Governor, and claim the aid of the full power of the Executive.