izens have to--" "Well now, stranger, don't you think
you're gettin' too inquisitive? When er white man shows that he's ergin
er white man, the question of what he owns don't cut no ice; he's got
ter go. This is er white man's country, an' white men are goin' ter rule
it." Saying this the citizen hastened away to join the mob, who were
then crossing the bridge to the depot to put the undesirable citizen
upon the train to send him away.

The mob that had a few hours previous made a futile attempt to butcher
the negroes at the Compress had now moved in the direction of Brooklyn
like a whirlwind, sweeping men, women and children before as it went.
Negroes, filled with terror and astonishment, fled before this armed
mob, who shot at them as they ran.

When in a certain battle during the Revolutionary War, terror stricken
colonists were retreating before the superiorly equipped and disciplined
British soldiers, it was Israel Putnam who vainly implored the
frightened Americans to make a stand. General Putnam cursed and swore,
when he saw that it was impossible to stop his men and induce them to
give battle to the British. Was there a Putnam here to essay to inspire
courage into these frightened negroes, who left their wives and children
at the mercy of the mob, and were fleeing toward Hillton? Yes, there was
one, and his name was DAN WRIGHT. Did Dan Wright fully realize the
enormity of his act as he faced this mob of white men, armed to the
teeth, now pressing down upon him? Did Dan Wright feel that death was to
be his reward for this act of bravery? Yes, but this did not deter him
or affect the steadiness of his aim. Above the oaths and yells of this
band of cowards, now almost upon him, the report of his rifle rang out,
and a bandit reeled and fell from his horse. But Dan was not to escape;
the crowd pressed upon him and crushed him to the earth; they riddled
his body with bullets, and dragged him bleeding and torn through the
streets. "Back wench!" cried a bandit, as poor Mrs. Wright pressed
forward to succor her dying husband. "You shall not touch his black
carcass; let the buzzards eat it!" But the mob did not tarry long beside
Dan's bleeding form; they swept on to Brunswick Street, where they
divided, some turning into Brunswick, while others rode toward Hillton.
Dan Wright did not die in the street, however. Torn and riddled as his
body was, he lingered a few days in agony in the city hospital before
death released hi