“The Call is coming! Are you able and qualified to respond?
“Discuss this matter with no one.
“Oohay-Oohay-Oopay.”
It seemed rather ridiculous, some sort of a practical joke, until he remembered the society with an equally ridiculous name—Trick Track Tribe—of which Jarvis and the Pinkneys had spoken. The society that was to protect the white race, womanhood, the United States Constitution and several other things. That reminded Robert that he had promised Howard Pinkney to see him.
Before his plate Robert found two letters. The one with the Chicago postmark he opened first and read over his oatmeal. Mrs. Hamilton came in and sat opposite, although she had long since eaten her breakfast.
“Oh, mother,” he exclaimed, “a letter from Bill McCall!”
“One of your college friends?”
“No. He’s the man I’ve been telling you about. Don’t you know? That Chicago newspaper man!”
“Oh, yes, it’s too bad that he doesn’t live in Corinth.”
“I’ve never really told you or dad all that he’s done for me.”