“Don’t take your guns, and may be possible you can get along without giving the guns up. I surely don’t want you to be traitors,” said the Elder; “but I trust an apology will do.” “And I trust no such thing,” said Doc. “And where shall we be after this, living or dead? It won’t make much difference. They want to break us up! that’s it—and enslave us!” “Where shall we be? On our knees forever at their feet,” replied Watta; “that is, if a single man of us ever got away alive, which I’ll warrant we never should if we refused to give up our guns.” “But remember, there’ll be bloodshed if you don’t go,” said Elder Jackson. “Better humble yourselves than be killed.” “And remember, too, the women and children, and the property,” added Springer. “You men is mighty thoughtful; suppose yo’ ’go yo’selves. ’Twouldn’t be no blood shed if _they_ got killed, I reckon yo’ think,” said a man from the ranks. They had retired to an upper room, and Kanrasp approached a window looking towards Dunn’s store. Doc followed, and then Watta, and then others. Still more armed men were seen coming into the town, and the mob around the General’s headquarters was more dense and disorderly. “You all know that it would be only my dead body that would ever leave that place, if I went there,” said Watta. “I should be riddled with bullets in no time. Those men standing outside of that groggery are thirsting for my blood this minute.” [Illustration: “BUT I ‘AM ONLY A NIGGER,’ (BARING HIS YELLOW ARM TO HIS ELBOW.)”—Page 105.] “I have known Gen. Baker for several years, and I believe he is an honorable man, and he will protect you,” said Judge K——. “An honorable man?” repeated Watta. “‘An honorable man’ he may be when dealing with those he acknowledges his equals, if there are any such; but I am ‘only a nigger’ (baring his yellow arm to his elbow.) “Honor? He’ll ventilate no honor when a nigger or politics is concerned. I don’t mean any disrespect to you, Judge; but Gen. Baker doesn’t hold the same views about colored people that you do, as you know.” “Well, I’m going,” said the First Lieutenant, “and I talked as bad as any of you on the Fourth. I’ll apologize.” “But they hate me more than all the rest of you,” resumed Watta, still inspecting his bare arm. “I’m nearer their color, and the best thing they can say of a man of my complexion is that he’s a smart fellow, but needs watching. And they do watch us, and they magnify everything we do or say, and misconstrue it, and lie about us. And then you know I’m that heinous offender—a ‘nigger school teacher, and a Republican newspaper correspondent.’ Why, Gen. Baker _can’t protect me_. I should be shot a dozen times before he knew I was coming. And then he’d regret it. That wouldn’t do me much good, nor my family. I tell you it is only a trap, a decoy, to get us up there and massacre us. If they kill me, they must come after me, I a’n’t fool enough to go to them to get shot.”