"Oudt! oudt weer?" asked Schults, pausing with a tray of onions in his hands. "To the meetin' in the Wigwam," answered George. "They done er powerful lot er plannin' there las' night. The Dimocrats mean business this time. They say they'll carry the election this time or kill every Nigger in the district. An' white men who are lukewarm, who don't come out an' take er stan' with white men will share Niggers' fate. They got the names of the lukewarm in this affair. I don't want ter skeer you, Schults, but you are on the black list." Schults had laid down the tray of onions and was eyeing George from behind the showcase. "What did you say boudt black lisdt, Gheorge?" "I say they read your name on the black list last night, an' that means they are goin' ter kill yer, for their air determin' ter kill everything in the way of white supremacy. I don't want ter skeer you, Schults; I jes' wan' ter warn you. You hain't tended eny of their meetings, and they conclude you air agin them. An' then you wouldn't discharge your Nigger." Schults' eyes flashed. He locked his hands and brought them down upon the show case hard enough to break it. "What I keers fer der black lisdt, eh? I dondt keers whadt dey duse mid Schults. Before I vould hep dem ter harm dese kullod peeples py dams I suffers ter be kilt. Who ish mine frients? Who buys mine groceries? Kullud peeples. When Schults cum ster Wilmiton sick mit der rhumatiz, mit no moneys, mit no frients, who helbs Schults ter git on his feets? Dese rich bocra? No; dey kicks Schults off de sidewalks, cowhide Schults on der sthreets. Who helbs Schults den? Kullud peeples! An' befoe I rais' mine hand 'gin dem I suffer det. Let dem kum, kum an' git Schults when dey chuse. Don't let dem t'ink fur er moment I no prepare fer dem. Dem Ghermans who 'lows dem down bhroke ristocrats persuade dem gintz deir kullud frients who thrade mit dem an' keeps dem from starvin' when dese rich bocra thry ter dhrive dem frum des country deserbe de cuss ov Almighty Got! An' you damn po bocras dat allows yo'uselfs ter be make fools mit you'selfs fer broke down risterchrats ter dhrive kullud peeples frum dey homes deserfs efry one eff you' ter be kilt." George Howe's under jaw dropped. He stared at Schults in astonishment, for he did not expect to witness such a show of bravery on the part of this quiet German grocer. "I didn't mean to insult you, Schults," said he, reaching over and helping himself from a barrel of apples which stood close by. "I jes thought I'd warn you." "Now, dere's dat Gheorge Bohn," continued Schults, with apparent inattention to what George had said. "I see his nhame in der bapers as one uv der leaders in dis supremacy humbug. Who makes Bohn whadt he is on Dry Pon'? Who makes Gheorge Bohn whad he is in dis counthry? Dem very peeples who he is now thrin' ter kill. Dem broke down ristercrats, sich as Moss an' odders, cares no more fer sich as him den dey do fur de grass neat der feets. When dey gits