“That’s just it. You don’t understand. The only way to get decent work out of some niggers is to let them believe they’re buying land. In nine cases out of ten he works hard a while and then throws up the job. We get back our land and he makes good wages for his work.”
‚ÄúBut in the tenth case‚ÅÝ‚Äîsuppose he should stick to it?‚Äù
‚ÄúOh,‚Äù‚ÅÝ‚Äîeasily, ‚Äúwe could get rid of him when we want to. White people rule here.‚Äù
John Taylor frowned and looked a little puzzled. He was no moralist, but he had his code and he did not understand Colonel Cresswell.
As a matter of fact, Colonel Cresswell was an honest man. In most matters of commerce between men he was punctilious to a degree almost annoying to Taylor. But there was one part of the world which his code of honor did not cover, and he saw no incongruity in the omission.
The uninitiated cannot easily picture to himself the mental attitude of a former slaveholder toward property in the hands of a Negro. Such property belonged of right to the master, if the master needed it; and since ridiculous laws safeguarded the property, it was perfectly permissible to circumvent such laws.
No Negro starved on the Cresswell place, neither did any accumulate property. Colonel Cresswell saw to both matters.
As the Colonel and John Taylor were thus conferring, Zora appeared, coming up the walk.
“Who’s that?” asked the Colonel shading his eyes.
‚ÄúIt‚Äôs Zora‚ÅÝ‚Äîthe girl who went North with Mrs. ¬ÝVanderpool,‚Äù Taylor enlightened him.