ode into the town they found it
quiet--under the weight of a heavy dread. They were looked upon from
windows, where men were posted, waiting; and obeying a shouted
instruction, the Major led his men to a long, low shed not far from the
scene of expected blood-flow, to stable their horses. Following them
came old Billy, the county clerk; and when the horses had been put away,
he came up and thus addressed the Major:

"You are to take command."

"All right. What has been done?"

"Not much of anything. Nothing could be done except to wait."

"How many men have we?"

"It is surprising how few," old Billy answered. "We didn't realize how
weak the white population was until danger came. We have about three
hundred, and more than a thousand negroes are marching on the town. We
held a sort of council this morning and agreed that we'd better post as
many as we can in the court-house. It commands all the streets and
besides we must save the records."

They were now marching toward the court-house. "Where are the women and
children?" the Major inquired.

"In the brick warehouse with a force of men near."

"Well, I suppose you've done all you can. It would be nonsense to engage
them in the open, but with our men posted about the square not more than
two-thirds of them can get action at once. Those poor devils are as well
armed as we and are wrought upon by fanaticism. It is going to be
desperate for a time. At first they'll be furious. Has any one heard of
Mayo?"

"He's at their head and the Frenchman is with him."

"How is the sheriff?"

"Dead."

They filed into the court-house, where a number of men were already
gathered, posted above and below. "Bring an axe and cut loop-holes," the
Major commanded. "When the fight begins you can't very well fire from
the windows. How are you, Uncle Parker?"

"Able to be about, Major. You wan't old enough for the Mexican War, was
you? No, of course not. But I was there and this here fightin' agin such
odds puts me in mind of it."

"Good morning, Major." It was the voice of the County Judge.

"Good morning, sir. I see you have a gun. Don't you think it impolitic?
But pardon me. This is no time for ill-humored banter."

The Judge bowed. "Now I recall John Cranceford, the soldier," said he.
"This is a great pity that has come upon us, Major," he added.

"Worse than that," the Major replied. "It is a curse. The first man who
landed a slave in America ought to have been hanged."