"
"There's only one way," sighed Caldwell, the merchant; "we've got to
vote the niggers."
John Taylor laughed. "Nonsense!" he spurned the suggestion. "You're
old-fashioned. Let the mill-hands have the offices. What good will it
do?"
"What good! Why, they'll do as they please with us."
"Bosh! Don't we own the mill? Can't we keep wages where we like by
threatening to bring in nigger labor?"
"No, you can't, permanently," Maxwell disputed, "for they sometime will
call your bluff."
"Let 'em call," said Taylor, "and we'll put niggers in the mills."
"What!" ejaculated the landlords in chorus. Only Maxwell was silent.
"And kill the plantation system?"
"Oh, maybe some time, of course. But not for years; not until you've
made your pile. You don't really expect to keep the darkies down
forever, do you?"
"No, I don't," Maxwell slowly admitted. "This system can't last
always--sometimes I think it can't last long. It's wrong, through and
through. It's built on ignorance, theft, and force, and I wish to God we
had courage enough to overthrow it and take the consequences. I wish it
was possible to be a Southerner and a Christian and an honest man, to
treat niggers and dagoes and white trash like men, and be big enough to
say, 'To Hell with consequences!'"
Colonel Cresswell stared at his neighbor, speechless with bewilderment
and outraged traditions.
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