separation of the races."

The big black fellow grinned.

"Dere sho' is, boss--but you ain't no races. You is jest Dagoes, ain't
you?"

At Atlanta we changed cars and were again driven into the Jim Crow
car. This time I made a more intelligent attempt to solve my race
problem. The conductor, faultlessly dressed in broadcloth and covered
with gold lace, strode into our car with the air of an admiral of the
fleet. He went straight through the car, collecting the block ticket
for our gang from the boss, and as he returned I stepped into the
aisle in front of him, blocking his passage.

"Pardon me, sir," I said, "isn't there a law in Georgia on the
separation of the races?"

Without a word, he removed the glasses from his nose, stared at me for
a moment, then turned sharply, walked to the end of the car, removed
the card which read "Coloured" and reversed it. It then read "White."
Then he came back through the car slowly, staring at me as he passed
but without uttering a word.

Our particular destination was "Muckers Camp" at Readers. A group of
three buildings on the brow of a hill--the hill where the blacks live.
The first of these buildings is a kitchen and dining room, the second
is a big dormitory and the third is a wash-house. This was our new
home. The dormitory was originally intended for a series of small
rooms but the work was arrested before completion. The uprights
marking the divisions of the rooms were still standing--bare and
uncovered. The floor of the big dormitory was littered with
rubbish--miners' cast-off clothing, shoes, broken lamps, and in a
corner there was a junk-heap of broken bedsteads, slats, army blankets
and sodden mattresses. We were told to make ourselves "at home." There
was room enough and plenty of bedding. All we had to do was to fish
for what we needed and put it in order. Everything was red--red with
ore that men carried out of the mines on their bodies.

The junk heap in the corner played an important part in the movements
of my gang. The thought of having to sleep in the sodden stuff chilled
me to the bones, but I kept silent. Whatever the previous condition of
the men had been, they felt as I did as they pulled their bedding out
piece by piece. They had gone to spend the winter in the mines of
the Tennessee Coal and Iron Company; they knew the work, conditions
and pay; they had refused to be bribed on the way down, but as they
tugged at the junk, a change came over them! The