onstitution had been ratified by an enormous majority, and a
Legislature elected composed of 101 negroes and 23 white men. Silas Lynch
had been elected Lieutenant-Governor, a negro Secretary of State, a negro
Treasurer, and a negro Justice of the Supreme Court.

When Bizzel, the wizzen-faced agent of the Freedman's Bureau, made this
announcement from the courthouse steps, pandemonium broke lose. An
incessant rattle of musketry began in which ball cartridges were used, the
missiles whistling over the town in every direction. Yet within half an
hour the square was deserted and a strange quiet followed the storm.

Old Aleck staggered by the hotel, his drunkenness having reached the
religious stage.

"Behold, a curiosity, gentlemen," cried Ben to a group of boys who had
gathered, "a voter is come among us--in fact, he is the people, the king,
our representative elect, the Honourable Alexander Lenoir, of the county
of Ulster!"

"Gemmens, de Lawd's bin good ter me," said Aleck, weeping copiously.

"They say the rat labels were in a majority in this precinct--how was
that?" asked Ben.

"Yessah--dat what de scornful say--dem dat sets in de seat o' de scornful,
but de Lawd er Hosts He fetch 'em low. Mistah Bissel de Buro man count all
dem rat votes right, sah--dey couldn't fool him--he know what dey mean--he
count 'em all for me an' de ratification."

"Sure-pop!" said Ben; "if you can't ratify with a rat, I'd like to know
why?"

"Dat's what I tells 'em, sah."

"Of course," said Ben good-humouredly. "The voice of the people is the
voice of God--rats or no rats--if you know how to count."

As old Aleck staggered away, the sudden crash of a volley of musketry
echoed in the distance.

"What's that?" asked Ben, listening intently. The sound was unmistakable
to a soldier's ear--that volley from a hundred rifles at a single word of
command. It was followed by a shot on a hill in the distance, and then by
a faint echo, farther still. Ben listened a few moments and turned into
the lawn of the hotel. The music suddenly stopped, the tramp of feet
echoed on the porch, a woman screamed, and from the rear of the house came
the cry:

"Fire! Fire!"

Almost at the same moment an immense sheet of flame shot skyward from the
big barn.

"My God!" groaned Ben. "Jake's in jail to-night, and they've set the barn
on fire. It's worth more than the house."

The crowd rushed down the hill to the blazing building, Marion's fleet
figure