Part 9 (1/2)

”Well, son, I'll tell you, though I'd rather you'd not mention it--in school, faw instance--if we can eveh raise money to send you to school.

”It's because, in a sense, we a-_got_ so much lan'. Many's the time I could a-sole pahts of it, an' refused, only because that particulah sale wouldn't a-met the object fo' which the whole tract has always been held. It was yo' dear grandfather's ambition, an' his father's befo'

him, to fill these lan's with a great population, p'osp'ous an' happy.

We neveh sole an acre, but we neveh hel' one back in a spirit o' lan'

speculation, you understan'?”

”Sir?--I--yes, sir.”

”The plan wa'n't adapted to a slave State. I see that now. I don't say slavery was wrong, but slave an' free labor couldn't thrive side by side. But, now, son, you know, all labor's free an' the time's come faw a change.

”You see, son, that's where Gen'l Halliday's village projec' is bad. His villages are boun' han' an' foot to cotton fahmin' an' can't bring forth the higher industries; but now, without concealin' anything fum him or anybody--of co'se we don't want to do that--if we can get enough of his best village residenters fum Leggettstown an' Libbetyville to come up an' take lan' in Widewood--faw we can give it to 'em an' gain by it, you know; an' a site or two faw a church aw school--why, then, you know, when capitalists come up an' look at ow minin' lan's--why, first thing you know, we'll have mines an' mills an' sto'es ev'y _which_ away!”

They met and pa.s.sed three hors.e.m.e.n armed to the teeth and very tipsy.

”Why, if to-morrow ain't election-day ag'in! Why, I quite fo'gotten that!”

At the edge of the town two more armed riders met them.

”Judge March, good mawnin', seh.” All stopped. ”Goin' to Suez?”

”We goin' on through into Blackland.”

”I don't think you can, seh. Our pickets hold Swanee River bridge. Yes, sah, ow pickets. Why _ow_ pickets, they're there. 'Twould be strange if they wa'n't--three hund'ed Blackland county niggehs marchin' on the town to burn it.”

”Is that really the news?”

”That's the latest, seh. We after reinfo'cements.” They moved on.

Judge March rode slowly toward Suez. John rode beside him. In a moment the Judge halted again, lifted his head, and listened. A long cheer floated to them, attenuated by the distance.

”I thought it was a charge, but I reckon it's on'y a meet'n of ow people in the square.” He glanced at his son, who was listening, ashy pale.

”Son, we ain't goin' into town. I'm going, but you needn't. You can ride back a piece an' wait faw me; aw faw further news which'll show you what to do. On'y don't in any case come into town. This ain't yo' fight, son, an' you no need to get mixed in with it. You hear, son?”

”I”--the lad tried twice before he could speak--”I want to go with you.”

”Why, no, son, you no need to go. You ain't fitt'n' to go. Yo' too young. You a-trembling now fum head to foot. Ain't you got a chill?”

”N-no, sir.” The boy s.h.i.+vered visibly. ”I've got a pain in my side, but it don't--don't hurt. I want to go with you.”

”But, son, there's goin' to be fight'n'. I'm goin' to try to p'vent it, but I shan't be able to. Why, if you was to get hurt, who'd eveh tell yo' po' deah mother? I couldn't. I jest couldn't! You betteh go 'long home, son.”

”I c-c-can't do it, father.”

”Why, air you that sick, son?”

”No, sir, but I don't feel well enough to go home--Father--I--I--t-t-told--I told--an awful lie, one time, about you, and----”