Before Tom could cry out or step back, he heard another noise on his right, and there, too, his flashlight revealed the feet and legs of another man.
Suddenly the four feet and four legs made a rush and Tom felt himself caught by the arm on either side. His flashlight was knocked from his hand, but, falling to the ground, still glowed and its rays showed Tom that he had been caught by two Negroes.
“Let me go!” he cried, fiercely struggling to free himself. But the black men held him fast.
Then one spoke, in rather soothing accents, saying:
“It’s all right, sir. We don’t aim to be rough with you, but we got our orders. I’m sorry I knocked your light down. I’ll pick it up for you,” and, stooping, he retrieved the flashlight which he gave to Tom.
“Better put it in your pocket, sir,” suggested the other Negro. “You won’t need it where you’re going. We know the path in the dark. And don’t be worried. We aren’t going to hurt you.”
“I’m not worried,” declared Tom boldly. “But this is an outrage! I came here of my own free will for a conference and——”
“That’s all right, sir,” went on the first black man, still soothingly. “You’re going to be taken to the conference. That’s what we came down for—to meet you and show you the way.”
Tom was at once struck by the fact that the language of these Negroes was above the average. They did not talk like poor, old Eradicate. Rather their talk was that of the man who has seen service in wealthy families. As this was in line with Tom’s theories regarding the identity of the men persecuting him, he ceased to struggle and said:
“Very well. Lead me to the men with whom I have an appointment.”