“Why, yes, if he had sense enough.”
“There ain’t no nigger got sense.”
“Oh, pshaw!” Taylor ejaculated, walking away.
The sheriff was angry and mistrustful. He believed he had discovered a deep-laid scheme of the aristocrats to cultivate friendliness between whites and blacks, and then use black voters to crush the whites. Such a course was, in Colton’s mind, dangerous, monstrous, and unnatural; it must be stopped at all hazards. He began to whisper among his friends. One or two meetings were held, and the flame of racial prejudice was studiously fanned.
The atmosphere of the town and country quickly began to change. Whatever little beginnings of friendship and understanding had arisen now quickly disappeared. The town of a Saturday no longer belonged to a happy, careless crowd of black peasants, but the black folk found themselves elbowed to the gutter, while ugly quarrels flashed here and there with a quick arrest of the Negroes.
Colonel Cresswell made a sudden resolve. He sent for the sheriff and received him at the Oaks, in his most respectable style, filling him with good food, and warming him with good liquor.
“Colton,” he asked, “are you sending any of your white children to the nigger school yet?”
“What!” yelled Colton.
The Colonel laughed, frankly telling Colton John Taylor‚Äôs philosophy on the race problem‚ÅÝ‚Äîhis willingness to let Negroes vote; his threat to let blacks and whites work together; his contempt for the officials elected by the people.