The Major had by this time collected his startled wits. With a sudden oath he jerked open the door and got out. "What are you up to here, men? Don't touch me, sir!"--this to one who had laid a hand on his sleeve. There was a quality in her father's voice that sent a thrill through Joan. She had never heard it before. The man removed his hand. "We're just stringin' up a nigger for the best of reasons," he explained. "'Tain't no business of yourn, stranger." "I'll make it my business," said Richard Darcy sternly. "You're not going to disgrace this State while _I_ am here!" The effect was histrionic; and yet Joan realized that her father was not blustering. He meant it. There came a wail from beyond that made her shiver, the cry of a man in mortal terror. "I ain't never done it, 'fore Gawd I ain't never tetched that woman. Oh, Boss! O-o-oh, Boss!" It was like the cry of a damned soul to God. "_Don'_ you let 'em git me!" There was an agony of hope in the appeal, as of one who sees at hand unexpected deliverance. The Major responded to it, speaking in quiet reassurance as she had sometimes heard him speak, years ago, when she had wakened out of some nightmare in the little bed beside her parents'. "All right, boy. They shan't get you," He strode through the crowd, putting men out of his way right and left. In sheer surprise they let him pass till he reached the negro, who cringed to him, catching at his hand. Then a voice cried out, "Here, we're wastin' time. Muzzle the old boy!" The Major turned and stared magnificently in the direction of his voice, nettled by the term "old boy." "Evidently," he remarked, "the gentleman does not know who I am!" Joan was seized with an hysterical desire to laugh. At such a moment the bombast of it was too much. Suppose they should inquire minstrel-fashion, "Well, then, Mr. Johnsing, who _are_ you?" But the crowd was not as used to her father as she was. They hesitated, impressed by his hauteur, his fine clothes, the waiting limousine. They stirred uneasily. A voice near her murmured, "Mebbe it's the Governor!" Richard Darcy took instant advantage of the impression he had created, and began to speak. It was not the first time she had heard him make a speech, for he was frequently called upon to aid some friend in turning the tide of political battle. The Major, indeed, had rather a reputation for assisting his friends into office--It was typical of Joan that she listened critically despite her thumping heart; that she watched what she could see of the faces about her, picked out by the lights of the car; that she missed no expression on the gray, working features of the negro, darting wild glances about him like a newly caged wolf she had seen once at the Zoo, frantically eying the people who stood to stare at it.