“Study hell! Look here, Jim Hoag—”
“Stop!” Hoag broke in sternly, and he leaned on the fence and glared at Trawley. “You know you are breakin' rules—you know the last one of you has sworn never to speak my name at a time like this. I was to be called 'Captain,' an' nothin' else; but here you go blurtin' out my name. There is no tellin' when somebody may be listenin'.”
“Excuse me, Cap, you are dead right. I was wrong; it was a slip o' the lip. I won't let it happen again.”
Hoag's anger was observable even in the dim light. It trembled in his tone and flashed in his eyes.
“Beggin' pardon don't rectify a mistake like that when the damage is done,” he muttered. “You fellers ain't takin' any risk. I'd be the one to hold the bag if the authorities got onto us. They would nab the leader first.”
“You are too shaky and suspicious,” the other retorted, in sanguine contempt of caution. “We hain't got a man but would die ruther than turn traitor, an' thar ain't no court or jury that could faze us. As you said in yore speech at the last regular meetin', we are a law unto ourselves. This is a white man's country, Cap, an' we ain't goin' to let a few lazy niggers run it.”
“The boys sort o' liked that speech, didn't they?” Hoag's voice ran smooth again.
“It was a corker, an' tickled 'em all,” Trawley smiled. “They will put you in the legislature by a big vote whenever you say the word.”
“I don't want it—I ain't that sort,” Hoag said, grandiloquently. “I'm satisfied if I can help a little here at home—sorter hold you boys together an' make you cautious. A thing like this to-night has to be managed in a cool-headed way that will convince the public that there is a power that can be relied on outside o' the tardy one that costs taxpayers so much to keep up. It would tickle a black whelp like Pete Watson to be tried at our expense. He'd love the best in the world to set up in court an' be looked at as some'n out o' the general run, an' incite others o' his stripe to go an' kill helpless white men an' insult white women. The rope, the torch, an' our spooky garb an' masks are the only things niggers are afraid of.”
“You think that is it, do you?” Trawley said, with a low, pleased laugh.