Part 30 (1/2)

THE NEW SHERIFF

As Eddring and Blount sat engaged in conversation after dinner that same evening, they were interrupted by a sudden disturbance in the hall. ”Stan' aside, you-all,” cried a pompous voice. ”You wanteh hindeh a officah o' de law?”

Hurrying footfalls followed, and presently the face of old Bill, Colonel Blount's faithful bear-hunter, appeared at the door, ”Hit's dat fool new sheriff, Mas' Cunnel,” he explained, ”Mose Taylor. Why, he says he got a wah'nt fo' you. I tol' him like enough you was busy.”

”Let him come in, Bill, let him come right along in,” said Calvin Blount, suavely. ”Mose Taylor, eh? That's our new sheriff,” said he to Eddring. ”He's our joke. h.e.l.l of a joke, ain't it?”

Presently there came to the door the form of the new sheriff, large, portly and pompous. Taylor was a mulatto who long had entertained political ambitions. The realization of one of his ambitions seemed for this present moment to give him no especial happiness. On his face stood beads of sudden perspiration. His office had never before seemed to him quite so serious as it did at this moment. At his waist he wore a belt supporting a pair of heavy revolvers with highly ornamented handles--a present from certain admirers to one who was looked upon as fit to do much for the elevation of his race. The new sheriff did not at that moment seem to think of these revolvers. As Mose Taylor entered the door he cast his glance backward, over his shoulder. It did not encourage him to see his cowardly posse of black followers gathered in a huddle at the edge of the overflowed lawn, beside their boat. They were waiting to see what would happen to their leader; and their leader now heartily wished that he had remained with them.

”Come on in, Mose,” said Blount, with honey-like sweetness. ”Come in and take a chair.” The man sidled in. ”Sit down,” said Blount, ”_sit down!_ Sit down on it good; that chair ain't hot;” and the sheriff suddenly obeyed. ”I always like to see the sheriff of Tullahoma County feeling easy-like in my house. Now, tell me, d.a.m.n you, what you want around here?”

”Cunnel Blount, sah--well, I got a papah, a wah'nt from co'te, f-fo'

you, sah. I--I--I--didn't think you was quite so well, sah.”

”Uh-huh! So that's why you came, eh? I reckon you'd be mighty glad if I was a heap sicker, wouldn't you?”

”I dunno, sah.”

”What's your warrant for, Mose?” said Calvin Blount, still quietly.

”Stealing hogs this time, or killing somebody's cows, maybe? Out with it. Now, d.a.m.n you, can't you read your own warrant?”

”Well, sah, you-all know there wuz some killin'--my wah'nt--”

”Yes, we-all _do_ know there was some killing, a little of it, the _beginning_ of it, a _part_ of it. Now, tell me, have you the nerve--are you _fool_ enough to come down here and try to arrest any of us white gentlemen for what we did a few days ago? Now talk. Tell me!” Blount's face took on its red fighting-hue.

”Wait!” cried Eddring, speaking to Blount, ”this is an officer of the law. This is the law.” He rose and stepped between the two, even as the sheriff fumbled in his pocket for the paper which had lately been the bolster of his courage, the warrant which in grim jest had been issued by the court of that county to its duly inst.i.tuted executive officer.

Blount's face was an evil thing to see. At a grasp he caught from a belt which hung at the head board of the bed a well-worn revolver whitened where long friction on the scabbard had worn away the bluing. ”Out of the way, Eddring,” he cried. ”Get your head out of the way, man!” His pistol sight followed steadily here and there, searching for a clean opening at its victim, now partly protected by Eddring as the latter sprang between them. Blount sat on the edge of the bed, his crippled arm fast at his side, his unshaven face aflame, his red eye burning in an unspeakable rage as it shone down the pistol-barrel, grimly hunting for a vital spot on the body of the man beyond him.

”Get out, quick,” cried Eddring, and pushed the man through the door.

He sprang to Blount and pushed him in turn back upon the bed.

”It's the law!” he reiterated.

”The law be d.a.m.ned!” cried Calvin Blount. ”Let me up! Let me at him!

_Him_--to come around here to arrest _me_-that d.a.m.ned n.i.g.g.e.r! You, Bill!” he called out, raising his voice. ”Throw him off my place. Kill him!” He struggled furiously with Eddring in his effort to gain the door.

The new sheriff of Tullahoma County was ashen in color when he emerged into the hall; and then it was only to look into the muzzle of a rifle, held steadily by old Bill. There ambled up to Bill's side, also, Jack, and between them they laid hold of the sheriff of the county and pushed him out of the house and across the lawn, administering meanwhile to his body repeated deliberate and energetic kicks, and thus enthusiastically propelling him into the very presence of his waiting posse, who raised never a hand to resent these indignities to one who had been their chosen representative for the advancement of their race.

”I'll see 'bout dis yer, I will!” cried the sheriff, as at last he got clear and took refuge in the boat which lay waiting at the edge of the lawn. ”I'll have you-all up for 'sistin' a officah, dat's whut I will.”

”'Sistin' a officah! Who! _You?”_ said Bill. The scorn in his voice was infinite. ”Say, you low-down scoun'rel, you say very much mo' an'

I'll blow yoh head off. You're on our _lan'_, does you know dat? Now you git _off_, right soon.”

The officer of the law retreated as far as he could into the boat.