“Bofe um ’em chile. I’se gwine ter shoot er pair er niggers fust, en den charge de whole gang wid dis swode. Hain’t nuttin’ er nigger’s feard uf lak er keen edge. Wish ter God I had a razer long es dis swode! I’d des walk clean froo er whole army er niggers wid guns. Man, hit ’ud des natchelly be er sight! Day’d slam dem guns down en bust demselves open gittin’ outen my way!” When the sun rose next morning the bodies of ten negroes lay dead and wounded in the road about a mile outside of town. The pickets thrown out in every direction had discovered their approach about eleven o’clock. They were allowed to advance within a mile. There were not more than two hundred in the gang, dozens of them were drunk, and like the Sepoys of India, they were under the command of a white Scalawag. At the first volley they broke and fled in wild disorder. Their leader managed to escape. This event cleared the atmosphere for a few weeks; and the people breathed more freely when another company of army regulars marched into the town and camped in the school grounds of the old academy. CHAPTER XV--THE NEW CITIZEN KING OF all the elections ever conducted by the English speaking race the one held under the “Reconstruction” act of 1867 in the South was the most unique. Ezra Perkins the agent of the Freedman’s Bureau issued a windy proclamation to the new citizens to come forward on a certain day to register and receive their ‘elective franchise.’ The negroes poured into town from every direction from early dawn. Some carried baskets, some carried jugs, and some were pushing wheelbarrows, but most of them had an empty bag. They were packed around the Agency in a solid black mass. Nelse laughed until a crowd gathered around him. “Lordy, look at dem bags!” he shouted. “En dars ole Ike wid er jug. He’s gwine ter take hisen in licker. En bress God dars er fool wid er wheel-barer!” Nelse lay down and rolled with laughter. They failed to see the joke, and when the Agency was opened they made a break for the door, trampling each other down in a mad fear that there wouldn’t be enough ‘elective franchise’ to go round! The first negro who emerged from the door came with a crestfallen face and an empty bag on his arm. He was surrounded by anxious inquirers. “What wuz hit?” “Nuffin. Des stan up dar befo’ er man wid big whiskers en he make me swar ter export de Constertution er de Nunited States er Nor’f Calliny.” When Nelse appeared Perkins looked at him a moment and asked, “Are you a member of the Union League?” “Dat I hain’t.” “Then stand aside and let these men register. If you want to vote you had better join.” Nelse made no reply, but in a short time he returned with the Rev. John Durham by his side. He was allowed to register, but from that day he was a marked man among his race. When the registration closed Perkins was in high glee. “We’ve got ’em, Timothy! It’s a dead sure thing!” he cried as he slipped his arm around Tim’s shoulder.