The Strength of Gideon and Other StoriesDunbar, Paul Laurence
General
The Strength of Gideon and Other Stories
Dunbar, Paul Laurence
African Americans -- Fiction
MOST DASTARDLY DEED EVER COMMITTED IN THE HISTORY OF
BARLOW COUNTY. A HIGHLY RESPECTED, UNOFFENDING
AND WELL-BELOVED FAMILY BURNED OUT OF HOUSE
AND HOME. NEGROES! UNDOUBTEDLY THE
PERPETRATORS OF THE DEED!
The article went on to give the facts of the case, and many more
supposed facts, which had originated entirely in the mind of the
correspondent. Among these facts was the intelligence that some
strange negroes had been seen lurking in the vicinity the day before
the catastrophe and that a party of citizens and farmers were scouring
the surrounding country in search of them. "They would, if caught,"
concluded the correspondent, "be summarily dealt with."
Notwithstanding the utter falsity of these statements, it did not take
long for the latter part of the article to become a prophecy
fulfilled, and soon, excited, inflamed and misguided parties of men
and boys were scouring the woods and roads in search of strange
"niggers." Nor was it long, before one of the parties raised the cry
that they had found the culprits. They had come upon two strange
negroes going through the woods, who seeing a band of mounted and
armed men, had instantly taken to their heels. This one act had
accused, tried and convicted them.
The different divisions of the searching party came together, and led
the negroes with ropes around their necks into the centre of the
village. Excited crowds on the one or two streets which the hamlet
boasted, cried "Lynch 'em, lynch 'em! Hang the niggers up to the first
tree!"
Jane Hunster was in one of the groups, as the shivering negroes
passed, and she turned very pale even under the sunburn that browned
her face.
The law-abiding citizens of Barlow County, who composed the capturing
party, were deaf to the admonitions of the crowd. They filed solemnly
up the street, and delivered their prisoners to the keeper of the
jail, sheriff, by courtesy, and scamp by the seal of Satan; and then
quietly dispersed. There was something ominous in their very
orderliness.
Late that afternoon, the man who did duty as prosecuting attorney for
that county, visited the prisoners at the jail, and drew from them the
story that they were farm-laborers from an adjoining county. They had
come over only the day before, and were passing through on the quest
for work; the bad weather and the lateness of the season having thrown
them out at home.
"Uh, huh," said the prosecuting attorney at the conclusion of the
tale, "your story's all right, but the only trouble is that it won't
do here. They won't believe you. Now, I'm a friend to niggers as much
as any white man can be, if they'll only be friends to themselves, an'
I want to help you two all I can. There's only one way out of this
trouble. You must confess that you did this."
"But Mistah," said the bolder of the two negroes, "how kin we 'fess,
when we wasn' nowhahs nigh de place?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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