"Why, Jesus Christ, they'd of been through in two more nights. It's good
we caught them in time or they'd of been a hell of a big jail-delivery
... do you mean to tell me," turning to the jailer, "you never noticed
this before?" and with one finger he raked out the blackened corn bread.
"You see, I'm a little near-sighted, Mistah Jenkins."
"Too damned near-sighted, an' too damned stupid, too."
The big iron door of the cage was locked again, the long bar thrown off
our cell doors.
"Now, you sons of b---- can come out into the cage again; but, mind you,
if any of you try such a thing again, I'll take you out one by one and
give you all a rawhiding."
We received the abuse in sullen silence. For three days our rations
lacked cornpone, for punishment.
We decided among ourselves that the negro preacher, to stand in well
with the authorities, had given us away....
And if he had not, panic-stricken, pleaded with the sheriff to be taken
out and put in a separate cell, I believe we would have killed him.
* * * * *
There was one more way. It was so simple a way that we had not thought
of it before. The mulatto girl, who slept by the big stove, on a cot,
just outside the cage ... a trusty and the jailer's unwilling concubine
... this slim, yellow creature was much in love with the lusty young
farmer who had stolen the bales of cotton and sold them for a drunk.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217