He demanded of his companions in an almost ludicrous surprise: “What’s goin’t come of the South when white men like the judge say such things? Guess he’s gettin’ so old he’s kind of weak in the head! I tol’ him he’d better not say that to nobody else. Somethin’ might happen to him!”
“Damn Judge Stevenson!” broke in Stewart, anxious to get a chance to tell his story. “He alw’ys was a sort of ‘nigger-lover’ anyway!”
Henry Lane spoke for the first time.
“Reck’n the Gov’nor’d say anythin’ ‘bout this burnin’?” he asked in a tone that anticipated the answer.
Parker laughed ironically.
“What kin he do?” he demanded. He answered his own question. “Nothin’! Under the laws of Georgy, he can’t even sen’ a man down here to investigate unless he’s officially asked by citizens of th’ county! And who’s goin’ t’ ask him?” He laughed again. “If anybody’s fool enough to ask him, they’ll be havin’ a visit paid ‘em one of these nights! Reck’n we don’t need to bother none ’bout the Gov’non meddlin’ in our affairs,” he ended assuredly.
“Le’s get back to this Harper nigger ’n’ quit all this foolin’ ’round,” Stewart demanded, irritably. “How’re we goin’ t’ settle him?” He added, after a pause: “Without stirrin’ up the niggers all over the county?”
“An’ they ain’t all we got to look out for,” added Sheriff Parker. “They’s some white folks ’round here who’ll kick up a stink if we ain’t careful.” “Who’ll do that?” asked Stewart contemptuously. “Judge Stev’nson can’t do it all by hisse’f.” “Well, there’s him an old Baird an’ Fred Griswold. An’ then the one’s mos’ likely to raise the mos’ fuss is Roy Ewing. He thinks a lot of that nigger lately for some reas’n. Ain’t been able t’ figger it out as yet, but he sets a heap by him.” He scratched his head in an abstracted manner. “Tol me over t’ the sto’ yestiddy that this Harper’s a fine type of nigger t’ have ‘round Central City ’n’ that we oughter encourage other niggers to be like him.”
“Another one gettin’ ol and weak-minded befo’ his time!” was Stewart’s comment. “But I want t’ know if we’re goin’ to sit here all night talkin’ ‘bout things that’s goin’ t’ keep us from punishin’ this nigger or if we’re goin’ to get down to business. Fust thing we know, we’ll be ‘lectin’ this nigger mayer the town!” His sarcasm was thinly veiled, if veiled at all. Parker and Lane showed by the sudden flush on their faces that the shot had reached its mark.
“You don’t have to be so cantankerous ’bout it, Ed.” Parker showed in his voice, as well as on his face, that he didn’t particularly care for Stewart’s brand of irony. “You know we’re jus’ as anxious as you to get rid of him. But we got to be careful. You live out in the country ‘n’ you don’t know the situation here in town like me ‘n’ Henry.”