Young Tommy did not feel quite safe from Dan Pipsie without his eighteen-shooting rifle in addition; and so, with it in hand, he mounted his young bay horse, while beside him rode his brother-in-law, Harry Gaston,—the best shot in town, bearing also his carbine; while the father and his eldest son, Hanson, were seated in a light wagon in which were placed additional firearms, lightly covered with a lap-robe. Thus equipped, they proceeded in safety, through the quiet little village to the Justice’s office; and finding it closed, went two miles further on, to his plantation, and returned with him to his office; quite a formidable party to be sure. Arrived there, they entered complaints against Dan Pipsie for threats to kill, and against the officers of the Militia Company for “obstructing the highway.” The Justice, being himself Major-general of that division of the State Militia, after thoughtfully scratching his crispy locks awhile, said: “I reckon it is best to hear a _statement_ of the testimony, and then decide whether it is a case for court-martialing, or for trial under the _civil law_.” Ten o’clock of the next morning was fixed as the time for hearing the case. At that hour Justice Rives was found seated behind his desk, and busily examining papers and documents. The Bakers made their appearance, accompanied by a few friends, among whom were two professional men—a Reverend, and an M. D.; though not with compresses and consolations for the possible wounded and dying, (for South Carolina chivalry does not fight its duels with “niggers,”) but with bail money (modified from bullets), should that counter-arrest, which they feared, be attempted. Automatically, or through force of habit, each race in the southern States still assumes, in assemblies, the positions and attitudes imposed in the days of slavery. In the churches of the colored people one or more of the most desirable seats are reserved for whites, and these often remain vacant, or nearly so, during a lengthy service, while church members stand to exhaustion for want of seats. Hence, the front seats of Gen. Justice Rives’ court-room were occupied by the plaintiffs and their friends, and the defendants and their friends sat at a respectful distance in the rear, while a number of boys and women of color gathered outside of the door. The magistrate, who had not altogether escaped the envy of his less fortunate neighbors, had often been accused by them of a sycophantic weakness for the approval of the whites; while the latter declared that justice could not be obtained by them before a colored officer, and that, as a political canvass was approaching, they would not again submit to negro magistrates. He therefore felt his position peculiarly trying, especially when he saw that they were all thoroughly armed.