Hotchkiss, the politician, took his place, and there was an indefinable change in the tone of his voice.

"There is no need to ask," he said, "why we do not, in this great work of uplifting the coloured race, ask the a.s.sistance of those who were lately in rebellion against the best and the greatest Government on which the sun ever shone. It would be foolish and unreasonable to expect their a.s.sistance. They fought to destroy the Union, and they were defeated; they fought to perpetuate slavery, and they failed. More than that, there is every reason to believe that they will refuse to abide by the results of the war. They are very quiet now, but they are merely waiting their opportunity. With our troops withdrawn, and with the Republican Party weakened by opposition, what is to prevent your late masters from placing you back in slavery? Could we expect anything less from those who have been brought up to believe that slavery is a divine inst.i.tution?"

"You hear dat, people?" cried the Rev. Jeremiah.

"You cannot help believing," continued Mr. Hotchkiss, "that your former masters would force the chains of slavery on you if they could; all they lack is the opportunity; and if you are not careful, they will find an opportunity, or make one. Slavery was profitable to them once, and it would be profitable again. There is one fact you should never forget,"

said the speaker, warming up a little. "It is a most stupendous fact, namely: that every dollar's worth of property in all this Southern land has been earned by the labour of your hands and by the sweat of your brows. It has been earned by you, not once, but many times over. You have earned every dollar that has ever circulated here. The lands, the houses, the stock, and all the farm improvements are a part of the fruits of negro labour; and when right and justice prevail, this property, or a very large part of it, will be yours."

This statement was received with demonstrations of approval, one of the audience exclaiming: "You sho' is talkin' now, boss!"

"But how are right and justice to prevail? Only by the constant and continued success of the party of which the martyred Lincoln was the leader. The mission of that party has not yet been fulfilled. First, it made you freemen. Then it went a step further, and made you citizens and voters. Should you sustain it by your votes, it will take still another step, and give you an opportunity to reap some of the fruits of your toil, as well as the toil of the unfortunates who pined away and died or who were starved under the infamous system of slavery."

"Ain't it de trufe!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah fervently.

"We have met here to-night to organise a Union League," continued Mr.

Hotchkiss. "The object of this league is to bring about a unity of purpose and action among its members, to give them opportunities to confer together, and to secure a clear understanding. No one knows what will happen. Your former masters are jealous of your rights; they will try by every means in their power to take these rights away from you.

They will employ both force and fraud, and the only way for you to meet and overcome this danger is to organise. Ten men who understand one another and act together are more powerful than a hundred who act as individuals. You must be as wise as serpents, but not as harmless as doves. Your rights have been bought for you by the blood of thousands of martyrs, and you must defend them. If necessary arm yourselves. Yea! if necessary apply the torch."

There was a certain air of plausibility about this harangue, a degree of earnestness, that impressed Gabriel, and he does not know to this day whether this ill-informed emissary of race hatred and sectional prejudice really believed all that he said. Who shall judge? Certainly not those who remember the temper of those times, the revengeful att.i.tude of the radical leaders at the North, and the distorted fears of those who suddenly found themselves surrounded by a horde of ignorant voters, pliant tools in the hands of unscrupulous carpet-baggers.

Hotchkiss brought his remarks to a close, and then proceeded to read the const.i.tution and by-laws of the proposed Union League, under which, he explained, hundreds of leagues had been organised. Each one who desired to become a member was to make oath separately and individually that he would not betray the secrets of the league, nor disclose the signs and pa.s.swords, nor tolerate any opposition to the Republican Party, nor have any unnecessary dealings with rebels and former slave-holders. He was to keep eyes and ears open, and report all important developments to the league.

"We are now ready, I presume, for the ceremonies to begin," remarked Mr.

Hotchkiss. "First we will elect officers of the league, and I suggest that the Honourable Jeremiah Tomlin be made President."

"Dat's right!" "He sho is de man!" "No needs fer ter put dat ter de question!" were some of the indors.e.m.e.nts that came from various parts of the room.

The Rev. Jeremiah was immensely tickled by the t.i.tle of Honourable that had been so unexpectedly bestowed on him. He hung his head with as much modesty as he could summon, and, bearing in mind his calling, one might have been pardoned for suspecting that he was offering up a brief prayer of thanksgiving. He rose in his place, however, pa.s.sed the back of his hand across his mouth, paused a moment, and then began:

"Mr. Cheer, I thank you an' deze friends might'ly fer de renomination er my name, an' de gener'l endossments er de balance er deze gentermen. So fur, so good. But, Mr. Cheer, 'fo' we gits right spang down ter business, I moves dat some er de br'ers be ax'd fer ter give der idee er dis plan which have been laid befo' us by our hon'bul frien'. I moves dot we hear fum Br'er Plato Clopton, ef so be de sperret is on him fer ter gi' us his sesso."

Uncle Plato, taken somewhat by surprise, was slow in responding, but when he rose, he presented a striking figure. He was taller than the average negro, and there was a simple dignity--an air of gentility and serene affability--in his att.i.tude and bearing that attracted the attention of Mr. Hotchkiss. The Rev. Jeremiah was still standing, and Uncle Plato, after bowing gracefully to Mr. Hotchkiss, turned with a smile to the negro who had called on him.

"You know mighty well, Br'er Jerry, dat I ain't sech a talker ez ter git up an' say my say des dry so, an' let it go at dat. Howsomever, I laid off ter say sump'n, an' I ain't sorry you called my name. In what's been said dey's a heap dat I 'gree wid. I b'lieve dat de cullud folks oughter work tergedder, an' stan tergedder fer ter he'p an' be holped. But when you call on me fer ter turn my back on my marster, an' go to hatin' 'im, you'll hatter skuzen me. You sho will."

"He ain't yo' marster now, Br'er Plato, an' you know it," said the Rev.

Jeremiah.

"I know dat mighty well," replied Uncle Plato, "but ef it don't hurt my feelin's fer ter call him dat it oughtn't ter pester yuther people. How it may be wid you all, I dunno; but me an' my marster wus boys tergedder. We useter play wid one an'er, an' fall out an' fight, an'

I've whipped him des ez many times ez he ever whipped me--an' he'll tell you de same."

"But all this," suggested Mr. Hotchkiss coldly, "has nothing to do with the matter in hand. The coloured race is facing conditions that amount to a crisis--a crisis that has no parallel in the world's history."

"Dat is suttinly so!" the Rev. Jeremiah e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, though he had but a dim notion of what Hotchkiss was talking about.

"They have been made citizens," pursued the organiser, "and it is their duty to demand all their rights and to be satisfied with nothing less.

The best men of our party believe that the rebels are still rebellious, and that they will seize the first opportunity to re-enslave the coloured people."

"Ah-yi!" exclaimed the Rev. Jeremiah triumphantly.

"Does you reely b'lieve, Br'er Jerry, dat Pulaski Tomlin will ever try ter put you back in slav'ry?" asked Uncle Plato.

The inquiry was a poser, and the Rev. Jeremiah was unable to make any satisfactory reply. Perceiving this, Mr. Hotchkiss came to the rescue.

"You must bear in mind," he blandly remarked, "that this is not a question of one person here and another person there. It concerns a whole race. Should all the former slave-owners of the South succeed in reclaiming their slaves, Mr. Tomlin and Mr. Clopton would be compelled by public sentiment to reclaim theirs. If they refused to do so, their former slaves would fall into the hands of new masters. It is not a question of individuals at all."

"Well, suh, we'll fin' out atter awhile dat we'll hatter do like de white folks. Eve'y tub'll hatter stan' on its own bottom. I'm des ez free now ez I wuz twenty year ago----"

"I can well believe that, after what you have said," Mr. Hotchkiss interrupted.

The tone of his voice was as smooth as velvet, but his words carried the sting of an imputation, and Uncle Plato felt it and resented it. "Yes, suh,--an' I wuz des ez free twenty year ago ez you all will ever be. My marster has been good ter me fum de work go. I ain't stayin' wid 'im bekaze he got money. Ef him an' Miss Sa'ah di'n'a have a dollar in de worl', an no way ter git it, I'd work my arms off fer 'm. An' ef I 'fused ter do it, my wife'd quit me, an' my chillun wouldn't look at me.

But I'll tell you what I'll do: when my marster tu'ns his back on me I'll tu'n my back on him."

"I'm really sorry that you persist in making this question a personal one when it affects all the negroes now living and millions yet to be born," said Mr. Hotchkiss.

"Well, suh, le's look at it dat away," Uncle Plato insisted. "Spoz'n you ban' tergedder like dis, an' try ter tu'n de white folks ag'in you, an'

dey see what you up ter, an' tu'n der backs, den what you gwine ter do?

You got ter live here an' you got ter make yo' livin' here. Is you gwine ter cripple de cow dat gives de cream?"

Uncle Plato paused and looked around. He saw at once that he was in a hopeless minority, and so he reached for his hat. "I'm mighty glad ter know you, suh," he said to Mr. Hotchkiss, with a bow that Chesterfield might have envied, "but I'll hatter bid you good-night." With that, he went out, followed by Wiley Millirons and Walthall's Jake, much to the relief of the Rev. Jeremiah, who proceeded to denounce "white folks'

n.i.g.g.e.rs," and to utter some very violent threats.

Then, in no long time, the Union League was organised. Those in the closet failed to hear the words that const.i.tuted the ceremony of initiation. Only low mutterings came to their ears. But the ceremony consisted of a lot of mummery well calculated to impress the simple-minded negroes. After a time the meeting adjourned, the solitary candle was blown out, and the last negro departed.

Gabriel waited until all sounds had died away, and then, with a brief good-night to Tasma Tid, he opened the closet door, slipped out, and was soon on his way home. But before he was out of the dark grove, some one went flitting by him--in fact, he thought he saw two figures dimly outlined in the darkness; yet he was not sure--and presently he thought he heard a mocking laugh, which sounded very much as if it had issued from the lips of Nan Dorrington. But he was not sure that he heard the laugh, and how, he asked himself, could he imagine that it was Nan Dorrington's even if he had heard it? He told himself confidentially, the news to go no further, that he was a drivelling idiot.

As Gabriel went along he soon forgot his momentary impressions as to the two figures in the dark and the laugh that had seemed to come floating back to him. The suave and well-modulated voice of Mr. Hotchkiss rang in his ears. He had but one fault to find with the delivery: Mr. Hotchkiss dwelt on his r's until they were as long as a fishing-pole, and as sharp as a shoemaker's awl. Though these magnified r's made Gabriel's flesh crawl, he had been very much impressed by the address, only part of which has been reported here. Boylike, he never paused to consider the motives or the ulterior purpose of the speaker. Gabriel knew of course that there was no intention on the part of the whites to re-enslave the negroes; he knew that there was not even a desire to do so. He knew, too, that there were many incendiary hints in the address--hints that were illuminated and emphasised more by the inflections of the speaker's voice than by the words in which they were conveyed. In spite of the fact that he resented these hints as keenly as possible, he could see the plausibility of the speaker's argument in so far as it appealed to the childish fears and doubts and uneasiness of the negroes. If anything could be depended on, he thought, to promote a spirit of incendiarism among the negroes such an address would be that thing.

If Gabriel had attended some of the later meetings of the league, he would have discovered that the address he had heard was a milk-and-water affair, compared with some of the harangues that were made to the negroes in the old school-house.

All that Gabriel had heard was duly reported to Meriwether Clopton, and to Mr. Sanders, and in a very short time all the whites in the community became aware of the fact that the negroes were taking lessons in race-hatred and incendiarism, and as a natural result, Hotchkiss became a marked man. His comings and goings were all noted, so much so that he soon found it convenient as well as comfortable to make his head-quarters in the country, at the home of Judge Mahlon b.u.t.ts, whose Union principles had carried him into the Republican Party. The Judge lived a mile and a half from the corporation line, and Mr. Hotchkiss's explanation for moving there was that the exercise to be found in walking back and forth was necessary to his health.

Uncle Plato was very much surprised the next day to be called into the house where Mr. Sanders was sitting with Meriwether Clopton and Miss Sarah in order that they might shake hands with him.

"I want to shake your hand, Plato," said his old master. "I've always thought a great deal of you, but I think more of you to-day than ever before."

"And you must shake hands with me, Plato," remarked Sarah Clopton.

"Well, sence shakin' han's is comin' more into fashion these days, I reckon you'll have to shake wi' me," declared Mr. Sanders.

"I declar' ter gracious I dunner whedder you all is makin' fun er me or not!" exclaimed Uncle Plato. "But sump'n sholy must 'a' happened, kaze des now when I wuz downtown Mr. Alford call me in his sto' an' 'low, 'Plato, when you wanter buy anything, des come right in, money er no money, kaze yo' credit des ez good in here ez de best man in town.' I dunner what done come over eve'ybody." He went away laughing.

Nevertheless, Uncle Plato was more seriously affected by the schemes of Mr. Hotchkiss than any other inhabitant of Shady Dale. He had been a leader in the Rev. Jeremiah's church, and up to the day of the organisation of the Union League, had wielded an influence among the negroes second only to that of the Rev. Jeremiah himself. But now all was changed. He soon found that he would have to resign his deaconship, for those whom he had regarded as his spiritual brethren were now his enemies--at any rate they were no longer his friends.

But Uncle Plato had one consolation in his troubles, and that was the strong indors.e.m.e.nt and support of Aunt Charity, his wife, who was the cook at Clopton's, famous from one end of the State to the other for her biscuits and waffles. Uncle Plato had been somewhat dubious about her att.i.tude, for the negro women had developed the most intense partisanship, and some of them were loud in their threats, going much further than the men. No doubt Aunt Charity would have taken a different course had she been in her husband's place, if only for the sake of her colour, as she called her race. She was very fond of her own white folks, but she had her prejudices against the rest.

When Uncle Plato reached home and told his wife what he had said and done, she drew a long breath and looked at him hard for some time. Then she took up her pipe from the chimney-corner, remarking, "Well, what you done, you done; dar's yo' supper."

Uncle Plato had a remarkably good appet.i.te, and while he ate, Aunt Charity sat near a window and looked out at the stars. She was getting together in her mind a supply of personal reminiscences, of which she had a goodly store. Presently, she began to shake with laughter, which she tried to suppress. Uncle Plato mistook the sound he heard for an evidence of grief, and he spoke up promptly: