“Oh, I don’t go quite that far,” interrupted Kenneth. “I only said I thought some of the good white people”
“You can name all your ‘good white folks’ on one hand,” replied Bob irritably. “A lot they could do if these poor white trash decide to raise hell. Why, they’d lynch Judge Stevenson or Roy Ewing or anybody else if they tried to stop ’em. Look what they did to Governor Slaton at Atlanta just because he commuted the sentence of that Jew, Leo Frank!” he added triumphantly. “A mob even went out to his house to lynch him—the governor!”
“But that was an extraordinary case,” replied Kenneth.
“Call it what you will, it just shows you how far they will go when they are all stirred up. And with this Ku Klux outfit to stir them up, there’s no telling what’ll happen.”
“Bob, do you really believe what you said just now about most of them really believing Negroes will be scared by the Klan? That seems so far-fetched.”
“Believe it? Of course I do. Just use your eyes and see how Negroes fool white folks all the time. Take, for instance, old Will Hutchinson who works for Mr. Baird. Will cuts all sorts of monkey-shines around Baird, laughs like an idiot, and wheedles old Baird out of anything he’s got. Baird gives it to him and then tells his friends about ‘his good nigger Will’ and boasts that Will is one ‘darky’ he really knows. Then Will goes home and laughs at the fool he’s made of Baird by acting like a fool.” Bob laughed at the memory of many occasions on which Will had bamboozled his employer. “And there are Negroes all over the South doing the same thing every day!” he ended.
“That’s true,” admitted Kenneth, “but what ought we to do about this meeting last night?”
“Do?” echoed Bob. A determined look came to his face, his teeth clenched, his eyes narrowed until they became thin slits. “Do?” he repeated. “If they ever bother me, I’m going to fight—and fight like hell!”
Long into the night Kenneth sat alone in his office, wondering how it was all going to turn out.