Capital punishment -- Fiction; Chicago (Ill.) -- Fiction; Criminals -- Fiction; Prisoners -- Fiction
“The papers told all about the arrest down in Georgia, and how the
marshal and a force of citizens followed me into the swamp and what a
desperate fight I made, and how many people I’d knocked down and ‘most
killed, until I was finally overpowered and taken in irons to the county
jail.
“I can’t make you understand how I felt when they was bringin’ me into
town. We come along down the old canal where we used to stone the frogs
and the geese and all along the places where us boys used to play. Then
we come down through the yards where I used to work, and right past the
house where I left that night with the kid sleepin’ in the bedroom. That
was the hardest part of all the trip, and I tried to turn away when we
come down along back of the barn by the alley; but it seemed as if
something kind of drew my eyes around that way, and I couldn’t keep ‘em
off’n the spot. And I thought about ever’thing I done there just in a
flash, and even wondered how long the old horse was tied in the barn
before they found him, and whether he got all the potatoes et up before
he was took away. But I looked away as quick as I could and watched all
the streets as we passed, to see if I could see anyone I knew. I felt
pretty sure that I wouldn’t leave Chicago again, and I guess I never
will.
“Pretty soon they pulled into the big depot, and the train stopped and
we got off. I wa’n’t expectin’ nothin’ in the station, but when we
landed the whole place was filled back of the gate, and I could see that
they was looking for me. The crowd was about like one that I was in down
there once when McKinley come to Chicago. A squad of policemen come down
to meet us, and they got us in the middle of the bunch and hurried us
into a patrol wagon. I could hear the crowd sayin’, ‘That’s him; that’s
the murderer; let’s lynch him!’—‘He don’t deserve a trial! Let’s hang
him first and then try him’—‘The miserable brute!’ ‘The contemptible
coward!’—I guess if it hadn’t been for all the policemen I’d have been
lynched, and mebbe ‘twould have been just as well. ‘Twouldn’t have taken
so long, nor cost so much money. Anyhow, I wish now they’d done it and
then it would be all over; and now—well, ‘twon’t be long.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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