The Hindered Hand Part 21

She saw an account of the murder of Rev. Percy G. Marshall, and of the besieging of the supposed murderer that was still in progress when the paper went to press.

At that moment a white man was pa.s.sing in a buggy. Tiara hailed him, grasped a hat and was soon in the buggy by his side begging him to speed her to the city, which the wondering man kindly did.

Directed by Tiara, the man drove to the edge of the crowd of besiegers.

By brave struggling, her hat gone, her long hair down her back, her dress torn, she made her way to the front of the swaying, surging ma.s.s of frenzied humanity.

"Gentlemen," said she, "Let us stop this frightful slaughter. Suspend hostilities! Give me a chance and I will bring things out all right. All I ask is that you respect my prisoner."

Tiara's sweet, strong voice carried conviction and the crowd in silence awaited her action. s.n.a.t.c.hing a walking stick from a bystander and tearing a sleeve from her dress she made a flag of truce and mounted the steps of the gate.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "s.n.a.t.c.hing a walking stick from a bystander and tearing a sleeve from her dress, she made a flag of truce and mounted the steps of the gate."

(188-189.)]

Through his trumpet Martin shouted, "Flag uv truce held by the lady won't be shot at, purvided no one else comes with her."

The crowd now awaited with feverish anxiety the outcome of this new turn of affairs. Tragic as were the surroundings, the great throng found time to admire the great beauty, the magnificent form, the queenly carriage of Tiara, as bareheaded and with flag aloft she marched up to the citadel of the outlaw.

Martin met her at the door, let her in and ran back to the tower to see that no one took advantage of his absence to attempt to approach the building. But his precaution was unnecessary. It was a matter of honor with the great throng and none thought of violating the flag of truce.

Tiara followed Martin to the tower and spoke to him a few words in a low, earnest voice.

"Woman, is that true? And all this havoc to be laid at my door?"

"My G.o.d!" said Martin humbly. "My G.o.d," he murmured again. Steadily down the stairway he walked and flung the door wide open, saying to Tiara, who followed, "Well, I'm done. They may have me." Tossing his rifle in midair, he said, "I give up, gentlemen." Taking the white flag he marched down the sidewalk, stepped outside the gate and stretched forth his hand for the sheriff to handcuff him. No sooner was he thus fastened than the mob surged in upon him. A blow from a stick knocked him down.

As he lay upon the ground the muzzle of a pistol was seen protruding from each of the side pockets of his pants. Leroy Crutcher, whose testimony had helped to stimulate the mob that lynched Dave Harper, was again on hand. Eager for a souvenir that would enable him to boast to the white people as to how he stood by them, he stooped down to s.n.a.t.c.h one of the protruding pistols. Martin had the pistols so set in his pocket that to s.n.a.t.c.h them would pull the triggers and cause them to fire. A shot rang out and ploughed into Leroy Crutcher's body and he fell a corpse.

The crowd swayed back from Gus in superst.i.tious fear, taking him to be a remarkable personage to be able to keep up a bombardment in his condition. As no more shots came the mob felt rea.s.sured and drew near the prostrate form of Gus. His eyes looked up into scores of pistols now leveled at him, and as they rang out their death song Gus Martin smiled and died.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

_Poor Fellow._

The whole of the night following the Gus Martin tragedy was spent by Ensal in sorrowful meditation, as he restlessly walked to and fro in his room.

The Rev. Percy G. Marshall had been an outspoken friend of the Negro.

The white South, Ensal felt, had at one time seemed to fetter its pulpit, not allowing it much lat.i.tude in dealing with great moral questions that chanced to have an accompanying political aspect. Ensal had looked on with profound admiration as the young Rev. Mr. Marshall, by precept and by example, boldly led the way for an enlarged scope for the white clergy of the South.

Had the pulpit in question done its full duty in preaching against the inst.i.tution of Slavery, it might have been eradicated by peaceful means, and the Civil War averted, was Ensal's firm conviction, and he further felt that the future well-being of the South and the happy adjustment of the relations of the races was largely dependent upon the extent to which the white preachers taught the brotherhood of man and invoked the application of the Golden Rule to all pending problems.

In all this work the Rev. Percy G. Marshall was a pioneer spirit, and by degrees the white pulpit of the South was growing more and more aggressive and emphatic. And now it was the irony of fate that this young minister should be slain by a member of the race for which he had imperilled his own standing among the whites.

In addition to his grief over the tragic death of the Rev. Mr. Marshall, there was another phase of the Gus Martin affair that gave Ensal deep concern. Gus was the child of the new philosophy that was taking hold of the race, which was as follows:

Faith in the general government was at a low ebb. Concerted action of a warlike nature on the part of the race was regarded as being out of the question, if for no other reason than that the Negro leaders were practically a unit in p.r.o.nouncing such a course one of stupendous folly under the existing unequal conditions. Word was therefore being pa.s.sed down the line that every man was to act for himself, that each individual was himself to resent the injustices and indignities perpetrated upon him, and that each man whose life was threatened in a lawless way could help the cause of the race by killing as many as possible of the lawless band, it being contended that the adding of the element of danger to mob life would make many less inclined to lawlessness.

Ensal saw where such a course would lead the race. Negroes were ordinarily approached in the name of the law and in that name disarmed.

When the law had thus rendered them helpless, the mob would form and be presented with the object of its wrath bound hand and foot.

Resistance, then, to be effective would have to be offered to the officers of the law. The utter pitiableness of the lone Negro being sent by this philosophy to fight the organized power of modern society went home to Ensal's heart.

The night pa.s.sed and dawn found him yet pacing his room. His mother summoned him to breakfast, but the all-night agony of his spirit had robbed him of an appet.i.te. The mail man's whistle blew, announcing the morning's mail.

"I hope I will get a letter that will turn my thoughts into another channel."

Such was Ensal's solemn soliloquy. How little did he dream of what was in store for him. Going to his front gate he received the mail. To his great surprise, the handwriting on one envelope seemed to be that of Gus Martin. He quickly tore this letter open and read its contents. He looked around and about cautiously, as if to see if any one was observing him. He crumbled the letter tightly in his hand and started toward the house, when he began to sway to and fro. His head grew dizzy, he tottered and fell. His mother, who had been observing him through the window, suppressed an incipient scream that almost escaped her lips, and rushed to her son's side. She had seen the effects of the letter, and her first act was to attempt to gain possession of it for the possible protection of her boy. But even in his swooning condition he clutched the letter with so powerful a grasp that she could not wrest it from him. She now cried aloud for help, and neighbors came to her rescue.

Ensal was borne into the house, his mother keeping in close touch with the hand that held the letter. After some effort he was restored to consciousness, and his first words were,

"The letter! The letter! O my G.o.d! the letter!"

"You have it, my boy. It has never left your hand," said his mother.

"Thank heaven!" uttered Ensal fervently.

When Ensal seemed to be nearly restored to his normal state the neighbors retired.

"Mother, ask me not why, but prepare my things. I must leave America,"

said Ensal, in a tone so forlorn as to deeply touch the mother's heart.

Drawing near to Ensal she threw her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes as if to read his soul.

Upon this holy scene where troubled son and anxious mother meet we will not obtrude, and so step lightly out of the room.

CHAPTER XXIX.

_A Revelation._

The fact that Ensal was to resign his church and leave the country was soon known throughout Almaville and filled the hearts of the good people of both races with sore regret. Tiara was amazed.

"Am I no more to him than that," she asked herself.

Choosing an hour when she knew Ensal would not be in, Tiara called at his home to see his mother. Mrs. Ellwood received her in her bedroom.

She dropped on her knees by Mrs. Ellwood's side, and said in tones that told of a sadly torn heart:

"Mrs. Ellwood, don't let your boy leave. We need him. I--, don't, don't let him go."

"I have plead with him, my dear, but his mind is made up, it seems,"

said Mrs. Ellwood sorrowfully.

"Perhaps he thinks that--that--that I am not--as good a friend to him as--ah! but he ought to--."