THE SPECTRE IN THE CART

By Thomas Nelson Page

Charles Scribner's Sons New York, 1908

Copyright, 1891, 1904, 1906

I had not seen my friend Stokeman since we were at college together, and now naturally we fell to talking of old times. I remembered him asa hard-headed man without a particle of superstition, if such a thingbe possible in a land where we are brought up on superstition, from thebottle. He was at that time full of life and of enjoyment of whatever itbrought. I found now that his wild and almost reckless spirits had beentempered by the years which had passed as I should not have believedpossible, and that gravity had taken place of the gaiety for which hewas then noted. 

He used to maintain, I remember, that there was no apparition orsupernatural manifestation, or series of circumstances pointing to sucha manifestation, however strongly substantiated they appeared to be, that could not be explained on purely natural grounds. 

During our stay at college a somewhat notable instance of what was bymany supposed to be a supernatural manifestation occurred in a desertedhouse on a remote plantation in an adjoining county. 

It baffled all investigation, and got into the newspapers, recalling theCock Lane ghost, and many more less celebrated apparitions. Parties wereorganized to investigate it, but were baffled. Stokeman, on a bet of abox of cigars, volunteered to go out alone and explode the fraud; anddid so, not only putting the restless spirit to flight, but capturing itand dragging it into town as the physical and indisputable witness bothof the truth of his theory and of his personal courage. The exploit gavehim immense notoriety in our little world. 

I was, therefore, no little surprised to hear him say seriously now thathe had come to understand how people saw apparitions. 

"I have seen them myself, " he added, gravely. 

"You do not mean it!" I sat bolt upright in my chair in my astonishment. I had myself, largely through his influence, become a sceptic in mattersrelating to the supernatural. 

"Yes, I have seen ghosts. They not only have appeared to me, but were asreal to my ocular vision as any other external physical object which Isaw with my eyes. 

"Of course, it was an hallucination. Tell me; I can explain it. "

"I explained it myself, " he said, dryly. "But it left me with a littleless conceit and a little more sympathy with the hallucinations ofothers not so gifted. "

It was a fair hit. 

"In the year--, " he went on, after a brief period of reflection, "I wasthe State's Attorney for my native county, to which office I had beenelected a few years after I left college, and the year we emancipatedourselves from carpet-bag rule, and I so remained until I was appointedto the bench. I had a personal acquaintance, pleasant or otherwise, with every man in the county. The district was a close one, and I couldalmost have given the census of the population. I knew every man who wasfor me and almost every one who was against me. There were few neutrals. In those times much hung on the elections. There was no borderland. Menwere either warmly for you or hotly against you. 

"We thought we were getting into smooth water, where the sailing wasclear, when the storm suddenly appeared about to rise again. In thecanvass of that year the election was closer than ever and the contesthotter. 

"Among those who went over when the lines were thus sharply drawn was anold darky named Joel Turnell, who had been a slave of one of my nearestneighbors, Mr. Eaton, and whom I had known all my life as an easygoing, palavering old fellow with not much principle, but with kindly mannersand a likable way. He had always claimed to be a supporter of mine, being one of the two or three negroes in the county who professed tovote with the whites. 

"He had a besetting vice of pilfering, and I had once or twice defendedhim for stealing and gotten him off, and he appeared to be grateful tome. I always doubted him a little; for I believed he did not have forceof character enough to stand up against his people, and he was a chronicliar. Still, he was always friendly with me, and used to claim theemoluments and privileges of such a relation. Now, however, on a sudden, in this campaign he became one of my bitterest opponents. I attributedit to the influence of a son of his, named Absalom, who had gone offfrom the county during the war when he was only a youth, and had stayedaway for many years without anything being known of him, and had nowreturned unexpectedly. He threw himself into the fight. He claimed tohave been in the army, and he appeared to have a deep-seated animosityagainst the whites, particularly against all those whom he had knownin boyhood. He was a vicious-looking fellow, broad-shouldered andbow-legged, with a swagger in his gait. He had an ugly scar on the sideof his throat, evidently made by a knife, though he told the negroes, Iunderstood, that he had got it in the war, and was ready to fight againif he but got the chance. He had not been back long before he was inseveral rows, and as he was of brutal strength, he began to be muchfeared by the negroes. Whenever I heard of him it was in connectionwith some fight among his own people, or some effort to excite raceanimosity. When the canvass began he flung himself into it with fury, and I must say with marked effect. 

"His hostility appeared to be particularly directed against myself, andI heard of him in all parts of the district declaiming against me. Thenegroes who, for one or two elections, had appeared to have quieteddown and become indifferent as to politics were suddenly revivified. Itlooked as if the old scenes of the Reconstruction period, when thetwo sides were like hostile armies, might be witnessed again. Nightmeetings, or 'camp-fires, ' were held all through the district, andfrom many of them came the report of Absalom Turnell's violent speechesstirring up the blacks and arraying them against the whites. Our sidewas equally aroused and the whole section was in a ferment. Our effortwas to prevent any outbreak and tide over the crisis. 

"Among my friends was a farmer named John Halloway, one of the best menin my county, and a neighbor and friend of mine from my boyhood. Hisfarm, a snug little homestead of fifty or sixty acres, adjoined ourplantation on one side; and on the other, that of the Eatons, to whomJoel Turnell and his son Absalom had belonged, and I remember that as aboy it was my greatest privilege and reward to go over on a Saturday andbe allowed by John Halloway to help him plough, or cut his hay. He wasa big, ruddy-faced, jolly boy, and even then used to tell me about beingin love with Fanny Peel, who was the daughter of another farmer in theneighborhood, and a Sunday-school scholar of my mother's. I thought himthe greatest man in the world. He had a fight once with Absalom Turnellwhen they were both youngsters, and, though Turnell was rather older andmuch the heavier, whipped him completely. Halloway was a good soldierand a good son, and when he came back from the war and won his wife, whowas a belle among the young farmers, and settled down with her onhis little place, which he proceeded to make a bower of roses andfruit-trees, there was not a man in the neighborhood who did not rejoicein his prosperity and wish him well. The Halloways had no children and, as is often the case in such instances, they appeared to be more to eachother than are most husbands and wives. He always spoke of his wifeas if the sun rose and set in her. No matter where he might be in thecounty, when night came he always rode home, saying that his wife wouldbe expecting him. 'Don't keer whether she 's asleep or not, ' he used tosay to those who bantered him, 'she knows I 'm a-comin', and she alwayshears my click on the gate-latch, and is waitin' for me. '

"It came to be well understood throughout the county. 

"'I believe you are hen-pecked, ' said a man to him one night. 

"'I believe I am, George, ' laughed Hallo-way, 'and by Jings! I like it, too. '

"It was impossible to take offence at him, he was so good-natured. Hewould get out of his bed in the middle of the night, hitch up his horseand pull his bitterest enemy out of the mud. He had on an occasionridden all night through a blizzard to get a doctor for the wife ofa negro neighbor in a cabin near by who was suddenly taken ill. Whensomeone expressed admiration for it, especially as it was known that theman had not long before been abusing Halloway to the provost-marshal, who at that time was in supreme command, he said:

"'Well, what 's that got to do with it? Wa 'n 't the man 's wife sick?I don't deserve no credit, though; if I had n't gone, my wife would n''a' let me come in her house. '

"He was an outspoken man, too, not afraid of the devil, and when hebelieved a thing he spoke it, no matter whom it hit. In this way Johnhad been in trouble several times while we were under 'gun-rule';and this, together with his personal character, had given him greatinfluence in the county, and made him a power. He was one of my mostardent friends and supporters, and to him, perhaps, more than to anyother two men in the county, I owed my position. 

"Absalom Turnell's rancorous speeches had stirred all the county, andthe apprehension of the outbreak his violence was in danger ofbringing might have caused trouble but for John Halloway's coolness andlevel-headedness. John offered to go around and follow Absalom up at hismeetings. He could 'spike his guns, ' he said. 

"Some of his friends wanted to go with him. 'You 'd better not trythat, ' they argued. That fellow, Ab. Turnell 's got it in for you. ' Buthe said no. The only condition on which he would go was that he shouldgo alone. 

"'They ain't any of 'em going to trouble me. I know 'em all and I gitalong with 'em first rate. I don't know as I know this fellow Ab. ; he 'ssort o' grown out o' my recollection; but I want to see. He knows me, Iknow. I got my hand on him once when he was a boy--about my age, and heain't forgot that, I know. He was a blusterer; but he did n 't have realgrit. He won't say nothin' to my face. But I must go alone. You all aretoo flighty. '

"So Halloway went alone and followed Ab. Up at his 'camp-fires, ' and ifreport was true his mere presence served to curb Ab. 's fury, and takethe fire out of his harangues. Even the negroes got to laughing andtalking about it 'Ab. Was jest like a dog when a man faced him, ' theysaid; 'he could n' look him in the eye. '

"The night before the election there was a meeting at one of the worstplaces in the county, a country store at a point known as Burley's Fork, and Halloway went there, alone--and for the first time in the canvassthought it necessary to interfere. Absalom, stung by the taunts ofsome of his friends, and having stimulated himself with mean whiskey, launched out in a furious tirade against the whites generally, and mein particular; and called on the negroes to go to the polls next dayprepared to 'wade in blood to their lips. ' For himself, he said, he had'drunk blood' before, both of white men and women, and he meant to drinkit again. He whipped out and flourished a pistol in one hand and a knifein the other. 

"His language exceeded belief, and the negroes, excited by his violence, were showing the effect on their emotions of his wild declamation, andwere beginning to respond with shouts and cries when Halloway rose andwalked forward. Absalom turned and started to meet him, yelling his furyand threats, and the audience were rising to their feet when they werestopped. It was described to me afterward. 

"Halloway was in the midst of a powder magazine, absolutely alone, a single spark would have blown him to atoms and might have caused acatastrophe which would have brought untold evil. But he was as calm asa May morning. He walked through them, the man who told me said, as ifhe did not know there was a soul in a hundred miles of him, and as ifAbsalom were only something to be swept aside. 

"'He wa' n't exac'ly laughin', or even smilin', said my informant, 'buthe jest looked easy in his mine. '

"They were all waiting, he said, expecting Absalom to tear him to pieceson the spot; but as Halloway advanced, Absalom faltered and stopped. Hecould not stand his calm eye. 

"'It was jest like a dog givin' way before a man who ain't afraid ofhim, ' my man said. 'He breshed Absalom aside as if he had been a fly, and began to talk to us, and I never heard such a speech. '

"I got there just after it happened; for some report of what Absalomintended to do had reached me that night and I rode over hastily, fearing that I might arrive too late. When, however, I arrived at theplace everything was quiet, Absalom had disappeared. Unable to facehis downfall, he had gone off, taking old Joel with him. The tide ofexcitement had changed and the negroes, relieved at the relaxing of thetension, were laughing among themselves at their champion's defeat anddisavowing any sympathy with his violence. They were all friendly withHalloway. 

"'Dat man wa' n' nothin' but a' outside nigger, nohow, ' they said. 'Andhe always was more mouth then anything else, ' etc. 

"'Good L--d! He say he want to drink blood!' declared one man toanother, evidently for us to hear, as we mounted our horses. 

"'Drink _whiskey!_' replied the other, dryly, and there was a laugh ofderision. 

"I rode home with Halloway. 

"I shall never forget his serenity. As we passed along, the negroes werelining the roads on their way homeward, and were shouting and laughingamong themselves; and the greetings they gave us as we passed wereas civil and good-humored as if no unpleasantness had ever existed. Alittle after we set out, one man, who had been walking very fast justahead of us, and had been keeping in advance all the time, came closeto Halloway's stirrup and said something to him in an undertone. All Icaught was, layin' up something against him. '

"'That 's all right, Dick; let him lay it up, and keep it laid up, 'Halloway laughed. 

"'Dat 's a bad feller!' the negro insisted, uneasily, his voice kept inan undertone. 'You got to watch him. I'se knowed him from a boy. '

"He added something else in a whisper which I did not catch. 

"'All right; certainly not! Much obliged to you, Dick. I 'll keep myeyes open. Goodnight. '

"'Good-night, gent'men'; and the negro fell back and began to talk withthe nearest of his companions effusively. 

"'Who is that?' I asked, for the man had kept his hat over his eyes. 

"'That 's Dick Winchester. You remember that old fellow 't used tobelong to old Mr. Eaton--lived down in the pines back o' me, on thecreek 't runs near my place. His wife died the year of the big snow. '

"It was not necessary for him to explain further. I remembered the negrofor whom Hal-loway had ridden through the storm that night. 

"I asked Halloway somewhat irrelevantly, if he carried a pistol. He saidno, he had never done so. 

"'Fact is, I 'm afraid of killin' somebody. And I don't want to do that, I know. Never could bear to shoot my gun even durin' o' the war, thoughI shot her 'bout as often as any of 'em, I reckon--always used to shutmy eyes right tight whenever I pulled the trigger. I reckon I was amighty pore soldier, ' he laughed. I had heard that he was one of thebest in the army. 

"'Besides, I always feel sort o' cowardly if I 've got a pistol on. Looks like I was afraid of somebody--an' I ain't. I 've noticed if twofellows have pistols on and git to fightin', mighty apt to one git hurt, maybe both. Sort o' like two dogs growling--long as don't but one of 'emgrowl it's all right. If don't but one have a pistol, t' other felleralways has the advantage and sort o' comes out top, while the man withthe pistol looks mean. '

"I remember how he looked in the dim moonlight as he drawled his quaintphilosophy. 

"'I 'm a man o' peace, Mr. Johnny, and I learnt that from your mother--Ilearnt a heap o' things from her, ' he added, presently, after a littleperiod of reflection. 'She was the lady as used always to have a kindword for me when I was a boy. That 's a heap to a boy. I used to thinkshe was an angel. You think it 's _you_ I'm a fightin' for in thiscanvass? 'T ain't. I like you well enough, but I ain't never forgotyour mother, and her kindness to my old people durin' the war when Iwas away. She give me this handkerchief for a weddin' present when Iwas married after the war--said 't was all she had to give, and my wifethinks the world and all of it; won't let me have it 'cept as a favor;but this mornin' she told me to take it--said 'twould bring me luck. ' Hetook a big bandana out of his pocket and held it up in the moonlight. Iremembered it as one of my father's. 

"'She 'll make me give it up to-morrow night when I git home, ' hechuckled. 

"We had turned into a road through the plantations, and had just come tothe fork where Halloway's road turned off toward his place. 

"'I lays a heap to your mother's door--purty much all this, I reckon. 'His eye swept the moon-bathed scene before him. 'But for her I might n't'a got _her_. And ain't a' man in the world got a happier home, or asgood a wife. ' He waved his hand toward the little homestead that wassleeping in the moonlight on the slope the other side of the stream, apicture of peace. 

"His path went down a little slope, and mine kept along the side of thehill until it entered the woods. A great sycamore tree grew right inthe fork, with its long, hoary arms extending over both roads, making abroad mass of shadow in the white moonlight. 

"The next day was the day of election. Hal-loway was at one poll and Iwas at another; so I did not see him that day. But he sent me word thatevening that he had carried his poll, and I rode home knowing that weshould have peace. 

"I was awakened next morning by the news that both Halloway and hiswife had been murdered the night before. I at once galloped over to hisplace, and was one of the first to get there. It was a horrible sight. Halloway had evidently been waylaid and killed by a blow of an axe justas he was entering his yard gate, and then the door of the house hadbeen broken open and his wife had been killed, after which Halloway 'sbody had been dragged into the house, and the house had been fired withthe intention of making it appear that the house had burned by accident. But by one of those inscrutable fatalities, the fire, after burning halfof two walls, had gone out. 

"It was a terrible sight, and the room looked like a shambles. Hallowayhad plainly been caught unawares while leaning over his gate. The backof his head had been crushed in with the eye of an axe, and he haddied instantly. The pleasant thought which was in his mind at theinstant--perhaps, of the greeting that always awaited him on the clickof his latch; perhaps, of his success that day; perhaps, of my mother'skindness to him when he was a boy--was yet on his face, stamped thereindelibly by the blow that killed him. There he lay, face upward, as themurderer had thrown him after bringing him in, stretched out his fulllength on the floor, with his quiet face upturned! looking in thatthrong of excited, awe-stricken men, just what he had said he was: aman of peace. His wife, on the other hand, wore a terrified look on herface. There had been a terrible struggle. She had lived to taste thebitterness of death, before it took her. "

Stokeman, with a little shiver, put his hand over his eyes as though toshut out the vision that recurred to him. After a long breath he beganagain. 

"In a short time there was a great crowd there, white and black. Thegeneral mind flew at once to Absalom Turnell. The negroes present wereas earnest in their denunciation as the whites; perhaps, more so, forthe whites were past threatening. I knew from the grim-ness that troublewas brewing, and I felt that if Absalom were caught and any evidencewere found on him, no power on earth could save him. A party rode offin search of him, and went to old Joel's house. Neither Absalom nor Joelwere there; they had not been home since the election, one of the womensaid. 

"As a law officer of the county I was to a certain extent in charge atHalloway's and in looking around for all the clews to be found, I cameon a splinter of 'light-wood' not as large or as long as one's littlefinger, stuck in a crack in the floor near the bed: a piece of a stickof 'fat-pine, ' such as negroes often carry about, and use as tapers. Oneend had been burned; but the other end was clean and was jagged just asit had been broken off. There was a small scorched place on the plankson either side, and it was evident that this was one of the splintersthat had been used in firing the house. I called a couple of thecoolest, most level-headed men present and quietly showed them the spot, and they took the splinter out and I put it in my pocket. 

"By one of those fortuitous chances which so often happen in everylawyer's experience, and appear inexplicable, Old Joel Turnell walkedup to the house just as we came out. He was as sympathetic as possible, appeared outraged at the crime, professed the highest regard forHalloway, and the deepest sorrow at his death. The sentiment of thecrowd was rather one of sympathy with him, that he should have such ason as Absalom. 

"I took the old man aside to have a talk with him, to find out where hisson was and where he had been the night before. He was equally vehementin his declarations of his son's innocence, and of professions of regardfor Halloway. And suddenly to my astonishment he declared that his sonhad spent the night with him and had gone away after sunrise. 

"Then happened one of those fatuous things that have led to thedetection of so many negroes and can almost be counted on in theirprosecution. Joel took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped hisface, and as he did so I recognized the very handkerchief Halloway hadshown me the night before. With the handkerchief, Joel drew out severalsplinters of light-wood, one of which had been broken off from a longerpiece. I picked it up and it fitted exactly into the piece that had beenstuck in the crack in the floor. At first, I could scarcely believemy own senses. Of course, it became my duty to have Joel arrestedimmediately. But I was afraid to have it done there, the crowd wasso deeply incensed. So I called the two men to whom I had shown thelight-wood splinter, told them the story, and they promised to get himaway and arrest him quietly and take him safely to jail, which they did. 

"Even then we did not exactly believe that the old man had any activecomplicity in the crime, and I was blamed for arresting the innocent oldfather and letting the guilty son escape. The son, however, was arrestedshortly afterward. 

"The circumstances from which the crime arose gave the case somethingof a political aspect, and the prisoners had the best counsel to beprocured, both at our local bar and in the capital. The evidence wasalmost entirely circumstantial, and when I came to work it up I found, as often occurs, that although the case was plain enough on the outside, there were many difficulties in the way of fitting all the circumstancesto prove the guilt of the accused and to make out every link in thechain. Particularly was this so in the prosecution of the young man, who was supposed to be the chief criminal, and in whose case there was astrong effort to prove an alibi. 

"As I worked, I found to my surprise that the guilt of the old man, though based wholly on circumstantial evidence, was established moreclearly than that of his son--not indeed, as to the murders, but as tothe arson, which served just as well to convict on. The handkerchief, which Joel had not been able to resist the temptation to steal, and thesplinter of light-wood in his pocket, which fitted exactly into thatfound in the house, together with other circumstances, proved his guiltconclusively. But although there was an equal moral certainty of theguilt of the young man, it was not so easy to establish it by law. 

"Old Dick Winchester was found dead one morning and the alibi was almostcompletely proved, and only failed by the incredibility of the witnessesfor the defence. Old Joel persistently declared that Absalom wasinnocent, and but for a confession by Absalom of certain facts intendedto shift the suspicion from himself to his father, I do not know how hiscase might have turned out. 

"I believed him to be the instigator as well as the perpetrator of thecrime. 

"I threw myself into the contest, and prosecuted with all the vigor Iwas capable of. And I finally secured the conviction of both men. Butit was after a hard fight. They were the only instances in which, representing the Commonwealth, I was ever conscious of strong personalfeeling, and of a sense of personal triumph. The memory of my last ridewith Hal-loway, and of the things he had said to me; the circumstancesunder which he and his wife were killed; the knowledge that in some sortit was on my account; and the bitter attacks made on me personally;(forin some quarters I was depicted as a bloodthirsty ruffian, and itwas charged that I was for political reasons prosecuting men whom Ipersonally knew to be innocent), all combined to spur me to my utmosteffort. And when the verdicts were rendered, I was conscious of a senseof personal triumph so fierce as to shock me. 

"Not that I did not absolutely believe in the guilt of both prisoners;for I considered that I had demonstrated it, and so did the jurors whotried them. 

"The day of execution was set. An appeal was at once taken in both casesand a stay was granted, and I had to sustain the verdicts in the uppercourt. The fact that the evidence was entirely circumstantial hadaroused great interest, and every lawyer in the State had his theory. The upper court affirmed in both cases and appeals were taken to thehighest court, and again stay of execution was granted. 

"The prisoners' counsel had moved to have the prisoners transferred toanother county, which I opposed. I was sure that the people of my countywould observe the law. They had resisted the first fierce impulse, and were now waiting patiently for justice to take its course. Monthspassed, and the stay of execution had to be renewed. The road toHalloway's grew up and I understood that the house had fallen in, though I never went that way again. Still the court hung fire as to itsconclusion. 

"The day set for the execution approached for the third time without thecourt having rendered its decision. 

"On the day before that set for the execution, the court gave itsdecision. It refused to interfere in the case of old Joel, but reversedand set aside the verdict in that of the younger man. Of a seriesof over one hundred bills of exception taken by his counsel as a'drag-net, ' one held; and owing to the admission of a single questionby a juror, the judgment was set aside in Absalom's case and a new trialwas ordered. 

"Being anxious lest the excitement might increase, I felt it my duty tostay at the county-seat that night, and as I could not sleep I spent thetime going over the records of the two cases; which, like most causes, developed new points every time they were read. 

"Everything was perfectly quiet all night, though the village wasfilling up with people from the country to see the execution, which atthat time was still public. I determined next morning to go to my homein the country and get a good rest, of which I began to feel the need. I was detained, however, and it was well along in the forenoon before Imounted my horse and rode slowly out of town through a back street. Thelane kept away from the main road except at one point just outside oftown, where it crossed it at right angles. 

"It was a beautiful spring day--a day in which it is a pleasure merelyto live, and as I rode along through the quiet lane under the leafytrees I could not help my mind wandering and dwelling on the thingsthat were happening. I am not sure, indeed, that I was not dozing; for Ireached the highway without knowing just where I was. 

"I was recalled to myself by a rush of boys up the street beforeme, with a crowd streaming along behind them. It was the head of theprocession. The sheriff and his men were riding, with set faces, infront and on both sides of a slowly moving vehicle; a common horse-cartin which in the midst of his guards, and dressed in his Sunday clothes, with a clean white shirt on, seated on his pine coffin, was old Joel. Iunconsciously gazed at him, and at the instant he looked up and saw me. Our eyes met as naturally as if he had expected to find me there, andhe gave me as natural and as friendly a bow--not a particle reproachful;but a little timid, as though he did not quite know whether I wouldspeak to him. 

"It gave me a tremendous shock. I had a sudden sinking of the heart, andnearly fell from my horse. 

"I turned and rode away; but I could not shake off the feeling. I triedto reassure myself with the reflection that he had committed a terriblecrime. It did not compose me. What insisted on coming to my mind was theeagerness with which I had prosecuted him and the joy I had felt at mysuccess. 

"Of course, I know now it was simply that I was overworked and neededrest; but at that time the trouble was serious. 

"It haunted me all day, and that night I could not sleep. For many daysafterwards, it clung to me, and I found myself unable to forget it, orto sleep as I had been used to do. 

"The new trial of Absalom came on in time, and the fight was had allover again. It was longer than before, as every man in our county had anopinion, and a jury had to be brought from another county. But again theverdict was the same. And again an appeal was taken; was refused bythe next higher court; and allowed by the highest; this time because atalesman had said he had expressed an opinion, but had not formed one. In time the appeal was heard once more, and after much delay, due tothe number of cases on the docket and the immense labor of studyingcarefully so huge a record, it was decided. It was again reversed, onthe technicality mentioned, and a new trial was ordered. 

"That same day the court adjourned for the term. 

"Having a bed-room adjoining my office, I spent that night in town. Idid not go to sleep until late, and had not been asleep long when I wasawakened by the continual repetition of a monotonous sound. At first Ithought I was dreaming, but as I aroused it came to me distinctly: thesound of blows in the distance struck regularly. I awaked fully. Thenoise was in the direction of the jail. I dressed hastily and went downon the street. I stepped into the arms of a half-dozen masked men whoquietly laid me on my back, blindfolded me and bound me so that I couldnot move. I threatened and struggled; but to no purpose, and finallygave it up and tried expostulation. They told me that they intended noharm to me; but that I was their prisoner and they meant to keep me. They had come for their man, they said, and they meant to have him. Theywere perfectly quiet and acted with the precision of old soldiers. 

"All the time I could hear the blows at the jail as the mob pounded theiron door with sledges, and now and then a shout or cry from within. 

"The blows were on the inner door, for the mob had quickly gained accessto the outer corridor. They had come prepared and, stout as the doorwas, it could not resist long. Then one great roar went up and the blowsceased suddenly, and then one cry. 

"In a little while I heard the regular tramp of men, and in a fewminutes the column came up the street, marching like soldiers. Theremust have been five hundred of them. The prisoner was in the midst, bare-headed and walking between two mounted men, and was moaning andpleading and cursing by turns. 

"I asked my captors if I might speak, and they gave me ten minutes. Istood up on the top step of the house, and for a few minutes I made whatI consider to have been the best speech I ever made or shall make. Itold them in closing that I should use all my powers to find out whothey were, and if I could do so I should prosecute them, everyone, andtry and have them hanged for murder. 

"They heard me patiently, but without a word, and when I was through, one of the leaders made a short reply. They agreed with me about thelaw; but they felt that the way it was being used was such as to causea failure of justice. They had waited patiently, and were apparently nonearer seeing justice executed than in the beginning. So they proposedto take the law into their own hands. The remedy was, to do away withall but proper defences and execute the law without unreasonable delay. 

"It was the first mob I had ever seen, and I experienced a sensationof utter powerlessness and insignificance; just as in a storm at sea, a hurricane, or a conflagration. The individual disappeared before theirresistible force. 

"An order was given and the column moved on silently. 

"A question arose among my guards as to what should be done with me. 

"They wished to pledge me to return to my rooms and take no steps untilmorning, but I would give no pledges. So they took me along with them. 

"From the time they started there was not a word except the ordersof the leader and his lieutenants and the occasional outcry of theprisoner, who prayed and cursed by turns. 

"They passed out of the village and turned in at Halloway's place. 

"Here the prisoner made his last struggle. The idea of being taken toHalloway's place appeared to terrify him to desperation. He might aswell have struggled against the powers of the Infinite. He said he wouldconfess everything if they would not take him there. They said they didnot want his confession. He gave up, and from this time was quiet; andhe soon began to croon a sort of hymn. 

"The procession stopped at the big sycamore under which I had lastparted from Halloway. 

"I asked leave to speak again; but they said no. They asked the prisonerif he wanted to say anything. He said he wanted something to eat. Theleader said he should have it; that it should never be said that anyman--even he--had asked in vain for food in that county. 

"Out of a haversack food was produced in plenty, and while the crowdwaited, amidst profound silence the prisoner squatted down and ate upthe entire plateful. 

"Then the leader said he had just five minutes more to live and he hadbetter pray. 

"He began a sort of wild incoherent ramble; confessed that he hadmurdered Halloway and his wife, but laid the chief blame on his father, and begged them to tell his friends to meet him in heaven. 

"I asked leave to go, and it was given me on condition that I would notreturn for twenty minutes. This I agreed to. 

"I went to my home and aroused someone, and we returned. It was not muchmore than a half-hour since I had left, but the place was deserted. Itwas all as silent as the grave. There was no living creature there. Only under the great sycamore, from one of its long, pale branches thatstretched across the road, hung that dead thing with the toes turned alittle in, just out of our reach, turning and swaying a little in thenight wind. 

"We had to climb to the limb to cut the body down. 

"The outside newspapers made a good deal of the affair. I was chargedwith indifference, with cowardice, with venality. Some journals evendeclared that I had instigated the lynching and participated in it, andsaid that I ought to be hanged. 

"I did not mind this much. It buoyed me up, and I went on with my workwithout stopping for a rest, as I had intended to do. 

"I kept my word and ransacked the county for evidence against thelynchers. Many knew nothing about the matter; others pleaded theirprivilege and refused to testify on the ground of self-crimination. 

"The election came on again, and almost before I knew it I was in themidst of the canvass. 

"I held that election would be an indorsement of me, and defeat would bea censure. After all, it is the indorsement of those about our own homethat we desire. 

"The night before the election I spoke to a crowd at Burley's Fork. Theplace had changed since Halloway checked Absalom Turnell there. A largecrowd was in attendance. I paid Halloway my personal tribute that night, and it met with a deep response. I denounced the lynching. There was adead silence. I was sure that in my audience were many of the men whohad been in the mob that night. 

"When I rode home quite a company started with me. 

"The moon, which was on the wane, was, I remember, just rising as we setont It was a soft night, rather cloudy, but not dark, for the sad moonshone a little now and then, looking wasted and red. The other mendropped off from time to time as we came to the several roads that ledto their homes and at last I was riding alone. I was dead tired andafter I was left by my companions sat loungingly on my horse. My mindran on the last canvass and the strange tragedy that had ended it, withits train of consequences. I was not aware when my horse turned off fromthe main road into the by-lane that led through the Halloway place tomy own home. My horse was the same I had ridden that night. I awakedsuddenly to a realization of where I was, and regretted for a secondthat I had come by that road. The next moment I put the thought awayas a piece of cowardice and rode on, my mind perfectly easy. My horsepresently broke into a canter and I took a train of thought distinctlypleasant. I mention this to account for my inability to explain whatfollowed. I was thinking of old times and of a holiday I had once spentat Halloway 's when old Joel came through on his way to his wife'shouse. It was the first time I remembered ever seeing Joel. I wassuddenly conscious of something white moving on the road before me. Atthe same second my horse suddenly wheeled with such violence as to breakmy stirrup-leather and almost throw me over his neck. I pulled him upand turned him back, and there before me, coming along the unused roadup the hill from Hallo way's, was old Joel, sitting in a cart, lookingat me, and bowing to me politely just as he had done that morning on hisway to the gallows; while dangling from the white limb of the sycamore, swaying softly in the wind, hung the corpse of Absalom. At first Ithought it was an illusion and I rubbed my eyes. But there they were. Then I thought it was a delusion; and I reined in my horse and reasonedabout it. But it was not; for I saw both men as plainly as I saw mystirrup-leather lying there in the middle of the road, and in the sameway. My horse saw them too, and was so terrified that I could not keephim headed to them. Again and again I pulled him around and looked atthe men and tried to reason about them; but every time I looked therethey were, and my horse snorted and wheeled in terror. I could see theclothes they wore: the clean, white shirt and neat Sunday suit old Joelhad on, and the striped, hickory shirt, torn on the shoulders, and thegray trousers that the lynched man wore--I could see the white ropewrapped around the limb and hanging down, and the knot at his throat; Iremembered them perfectly. I could not get near the cart, for the roaddown to Halloway's, on which it moved steadily without ever approaching, was stopped up. But I rode right under the limb on which the other manhung, and there he was just above my head. I reasoned with myself, butin vain. There he still hung silent and limp, swinging gently in thenight wind and turning a little back and forth at the end of the whiterope. 

"In sheer determination to fight it through I got off my horse andpicked up my stirrup. He was trembling like a leaf. I remounted and rodeback to the spot and looked again, confident that the spectres would nowhave disappeared. But there they were, old Joel, sitting in his cart, bowing to me civilly with timid, sad, friendly eyes, as much alive as Iwas, and the dead man, with his limp head and arms and his toes turnedin, hanging in mid-air. 

"I rode up under the dangling body and cut at it with my switch. At themotion my horse bolted. He ran fully a mile before I could pursue himin. 

"The next morning I went to my stable to get my horse to ride to thepolls. The man a the stable said:

"'He ain't fit to take out, sir. You must 'a gi'n him a mighty hard ridelast night--he won't tetch a moufful; he 's been in a cold sweats allnight. '

"Sure enough, he looked it. 

"I took another horse and rode out by Halloway's to see the place bydaylight. 

"It was quiet enough now. The sycamore shaded the grass-grown track, anda branch, twisted and broken by some storm, hung by a strip of bark fromthe big bough that stretched across the road above my head, swaying, with limp leaves, a little in the wind; a dense dogwood bush in fullbloom among the young pines, filled a fence-corner down the disused roadwhere old Joel had bowed to me from his phantom cart the night before. But it was hard to believe that these were the things which had createdsuch impressions on my mind--as hard to believe as that the quietcottage peering out from amid the mass of peach-bloom on the other slopewas one hour the home of such happiness, and the next the scene of sucha tragedy. " Once more he put his hand suddenly before his face as thoughto shut out something from his vision. "Yes, I have seen apparitions, "he said, thoughtfully, "but I have seen what was worse. "