Three men sat around a table that evening in the office of Sheriff Parker in the court-house. The sheriff was one. Another was Commissioner Henry Lane. The third was Ed Stewart.
The latter was talking.
“Yep, after I talked to that nigger Williams, I rustled ‘round among the niggers on my place. At fust, they wouldn’t talk much. But I found a way to make ’em! By God, a taste of a horse-whip’ll make any of ’em open up! Found they’s only two niggers we got to worry ’bout. One’s this nigger doctor. The other’s my nigger Tom Tracy. She’ff, if you hear’n tell of an accident out to my place in the nex’ few days, you needn’t bother to come out to investigate. It’ll be se’f-defence. Tom Tracy’s goin’t come up on me with an open knife. I’m goin’ t’ shoot t’ save my life.”
The three laughed at the good joke. The sheriff agreed not to bother. “Good riddance!” he commented.
Stewart went on:
“Now ‘bout this other nigger. He’s the brains of the whole thing. But we’ve got to be mighty careful, ’cause these other niggers thinks he some sort of a tin god. Ef they think he’s bumped off ’cause of these lodges he’s been organizing, they might raise hell. Ev’ry nigger out my way would go through hell ’n’ high water for him. Never seen ‘em think so much of another nigger befo’. Mos’ the time they’ll come and tell me ev’rythin’ that any them other niggers doin’. This nigger Harper’s got ‘em hoodooed or somethin’.”
The sheriff broke into Stewart’s monologue in a complaining, reminiscent fashion:
“Don’t know what’s gettin’ into the niggers nowadays. They ain’t like they useter be. Take this nigger’s daddy, f’r example. Old man Harper was as good a nigger’s I ever seen. If he met you on the street twenty times a day, he’d take off his hat ’n’ bow almos’ to the groun’ ev’ry time. But these new niggers, I can’t make heads nor tails of ‘em. Take that uppity nigger they burned this mornin’. Always goin’ ’round with a face on ’im like he’s swallowed a mess of crabapples. What if that Jim Archer did have a little fun with the nigger’s sister? ’Twon’t hurt a nigger wench none. Oughter be proud a white man wants her.”
His voice took on at the next remark a tone of pained and outraged surprise.
“Nigger gals gettin’ so nowadays they think they’re’s good as white women! And what ‘chu think that old fool Judge Stev’nson said t’ me to-day? Had the nerve t’ sayt’ me that he don’t blame that nigger Bob for killin’ Jim Archer!”