Strained whispers arose.
"Careful there!"
"Go on, damn ye!"
"There's some one by yon fire."
"No, there ain't."
"See the bushes move."
_Bang! bang! bang!_
"Who's that?"
"It's me."
"Let's rush through and fire the house."
"And leave a pa'cel of niggers behind to shoot your lights out? Not me."
"What the hell are you going to do?"
"I don't know yet."
"I wish I could see a nigger."
_"Hark!"_
Stealthy steps were approaching, a glint of steel flashed behind the
fire lights. Each band mistook the other for the armed Negroes, and the
leaders yelled in vain; human power can not stay the dashing torrent of
fear-inspired human panic. Whirling, the mob fled till it struck the
road in two confused, surging masses. Then in quick frenzy, shots flew;
three men threw up their hands and tumbled limply in the dust, while the
main body rushed pellmell toward town.
At early dawn, when the men relaxed from the strain of the night's
vigil, Alwyn briefly counselled them: "Hide your guns."
"Why?" blustered Rob. "Haven't I a right to have a gun?"
"Yes, you have, Rob; but don't be foolish--hide it. We've not heard the
last of this."
But Rob tossed his head belligerently.
In town, rumor spread like wildfire. A body of peaceful whites passing
through the black settlement had been fired on from ambush, and six
killed--no, three killed--no, one killed and two severely wounded.
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