“You’re the black rascal that burned my house down,” and with a vile epithet this personification of southern magnanimity rode away. “Ah! Ah!” groaned the crowd, in derision of the misplaced confidence of the negroes. “There’s Alden Watta,” said a mocking voice. “You’re a _magistrate_, I suppose! You’re a —— nice looking magistrate!” and he scooped up a handful of soil and threw it into the back of Watta’s neck, as his head hung down. “There’s a baptism for you.” Watta did not heed it. “Boys, we’d better go to work, and kill what niggers we’ve got; what’s the use o’ waiting? We shan’t be able to find Capt. Doc,” said a new speaker. “We’ve had our orders from Gen. Baker, so far, and we’d better get orders from him now,” said another, who was possibly more merciful. “If we don’t kill all, they’ll give testimony against us, some day to come,” said the first speaker. “That’s so,” said a third. “Gen. Baker has got us here, and we ketched the men as he told us, and I think we’ve got something to say now.” “No, gentlemen,” said a fourth, “just pick out the Republican leaders and kill them, and let the rest go. They’re all Republicans, I know, but they a’n’t all leaders; and some of these boys didn’t never hurt nobody. Some of ’em is good fellows!” “A—h! that a’n’t worth a cent! We’ve come out here to have some fun, and now let’s have it.” So they contended till the excitement became quite alarming, and pistols were drawn upon each other by the mob. “Well now,” said a new voice, “I’ll tell you how you must do it.” “Listen! Listen! Hear the Judge’s son! Hear the the young Georgia Judge!” shouted several men; and so there came a calm. “This has been a military affair so far,” said the young man, “and let us carry it through so. We must just have a court-martial. These niggers are prisoners of war. This is a conflict between the South Carolina Rifle Clubs, the natural offspring of our honored Confederate Cavalry, (cheers), and the National Guards, the pets of the Yankees, (groans). The South Carolinians have been victorious, [tremendous cheers], as they always will be, [vehement applause]. And now, as becomes the sons of noble sires, [cheers], sons who are honored [when in uniform], by wearing the gray of our “Lost Cause,” [cheers], and who to-night have done honor to the gray, (cheers), let us not forget to be generous to our prisoners; but choose from our number twenty men, who shall retire and consider the case of each of these we have captured; and as they decide, so the man shall fare.” Applause and assent followed, when another voice added, “And if any of you have old scores you want settled, just bring them before the court-martial.” The men were selected, though not without difficulty and some final dissatisfaction and threats, but as the Captain was acceptable to the most violent, the matter was finally adjusted upon a compromise.