"See here," he thundered, handing the lawyer the notice of the
injunction.
"See the Judge," began the lawyer, and then remembered, as he was often
forced to do these days, who was Judge.
He inquired carefully into the case and examined the papers. Then he
said:
"Colonel Cresswell, who drew this contract of sale?"
"The black girl did."
"Impossible!"
"She certainly did--wrote it in my presence."
"Well, it's mighty well done."
"You mean it will stand in law?"
"It certainly will. There's but one way to break it, and that's to
allege misunderstanding on your part."
Cresswell winced. It was not pleasant to go into open court and
acknowledge himself over-reached by a Negro; but several thousand
dollars in cotton and land were at stake.
"Go ahead," he concurred.
"You can depend on Taylor, of course?" added the lawyer.
"Of course," answered Cresswell. "But why prolong the thing?"
"You see, she's got your cotton tied by injunction."
"I don't see how she did it."
"Easy enough: this Judge is the poor white you opposed in the last
primary."
Within a week the case was called, and they filed into the courtroom.
Cresswell's lawyer saw only this black woman--no other lawyer or sign of
one appeared to represent her. The place soon filled with a lazy,
tobacco-chewing throng of white men.
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