African Americans -- Fiction; Short stories; Southern States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
“They heard me patiently, but without a word, and when I was through,
one of the leaders made a short reply. They agreed with me about the
law; but they felt that the way it was being used was such as to cause
a failure of justice. They had waited patiently, and were apparently no
nearer seeing justice executed than in the beginning. So they proposed
to take the law into their own hands. The remedy was, to do away with
all but proper defences and execute the law without unreasonable delay.
“It was the first mob I had ever seen, and I experienced a sensation
of utter powerlessness and insignificance; just as in a storm at sea,
a hurricane, or a conflagration. The individual disappeared before the
irresistible force.
“An order was given and the column moved on silently.
“A question arose among my guards as to what should be done with me.
“They wished to pledge me to return to my rooms and take no steps until
morning, but I would give no pledges. So they took me along with them.
“From the time they started there was not a word except the orders
of the leader and his lieutenants and the occasional outcry of the
prisoner, who prayed and cursed by turns.
“They passed out of the village and turned in at Halloway's place.
“Here the prisoner made his last struggle. The idea of being taken to
Halloway's place appeared to terrify him to desperation. He might as
well have struggled against the powers of the Infinite. He said he would
confess everything if they would not take him there. They said they did
not want his confession. He gave up, and from this time was quiet; and
he soon began to croon a sort of hymn.
“The procession stopped at the big sycamore under which I had last
parted from Halloway.
“I asked leave to speak again; but they said no. They asked the prisoner
if he wanted to say anything. He said he wanted something to eat. The
leader said he should have it; that it should never be said that any
man--even he--had asked in vain for food in that county.
“Out of a haversack food was produced in plenty, and while the crowd
waited, amidst profound silence the prisoner squatted down and ate up
the entire plateful.
“Then the leader said he had just five minutes more to live and he had
better pray.
“He began a sort of wild incoherent ramble; confessed that he had
murdered Halloway and his wife, but laid the chief blame on his father,
and begged them to tell his friends to meet him in heaven.
“I asked leave to go, and it was given me on condition that I would not
return for twenty minutes. This I agreed to.
“I went to my home and aroused someone, and we returned. It was not much
more than a half-hour since I had left, but the place was deserted. It
was all as silent as the grave. There was no living creature there.
Only under the great sycamore, from one of its long, pale branches that
stretched across the road, hung that dead thing with the toes turned a
little in, just out of our reach, turning and swaying a little in the
night wind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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