by Thomas Dixon
CHAPTER II
THE EYES OF THE JUNGLE
Elsie stood dreaming for a moment in the shadow of the arbor-vitae,breathing the sensuous perfumed air and listening to the distant music ofthe falls, her heart quivering in pity for the anguish of which she hadbeen a witness. Again the spectral cry of the whippoorwill rang near-by,and she noted for the first time the curious cluck with which the birdpunctuated each call. A sense of dim foreboding oppressed her.
She wondered if the chatter of Marion about the girl in Nashville wereonly a child's guess or more. She laughed softly at the absurdity of theidea. Never since she had first looked into Ben Cameron's face did shefeel surer of the honesty and earnestness of his love than to-day in thisquiet home of his native village. It must be the queer call of the birdwhich appealed to superstitions she did not know were hidden within herbeing.
Still dreaming under its spell, she was startled at the tread of two menapproaching the gate.
The taller, more powerful-looking man put his hand on the latch andpaused.
"Allow no white man to order you around. Remember you are a freeman and asgood as any pale-face who walks this earth."
She recognized the voice of Silas Lynch.
"Ben Cameron dare me to come about de house," said the other voice.
"What did he say?"
"He say, wid his eyes batten' des like lightnen', 'Ef I ketch you hangin''roun' dis place agin', Gus, I'll jump on you en stomp de life outenye.'"
"Well, you tell him that your name is Augustus, not 'Gus,' and that theUnited States troops quartered in this town will be with him soon afterthe stomping begins. You wear its uniform. Give the white trash in thistown to understand that they are not even citizens of the nation. As asovereign voter, you, once their slave, are not only their equal--you aretheir master."
"Dat I will!" was the firm answer.
The negro to whom Lynch spoke disappeared in the direction taken by Marionand her mother, and the figure of the handsome mulatto passed rapidly upthe walk, ascended the steps and knocked at the door.
Elsie followed him.
"My father is too much fatigued with his journey to be seen now; you mustcall to-morrow," she said.
The negro lifted his hat and bowed:
"Ah, we are delighted to welcome you, Miss Stoneman, to our land! Yourfather asked me to call immediately on his arrival. I have but obeyed hisorders."
Elsie shrank from the familiarity of his manner and the tones of authorityand patronage with which he spoke.
"He cannot be seen at this hour," she answered shortly.
"Perhaps you will present my card, then--say that I am at his service, andlet him appoint the time at which I shall return?"
She did not invite him in, but with easy assurance he took his seat on thejoggle-board beside the door and awaited her return.
Against her urgent protest, Stoneman ordered Lynch to be shown at once tohis bedroom.
When the door was closed, the old Commoner, without turning to greet hisvisitor or moving his position in bed, asked:
"Are you following my instructions?"
"To the letter, sir."
"You are initiating the negroes into the League and teaching them the newcatechism?"
"With remarkable success. Its secrecy and ritual appeal to them. Withinsix months we shall have the whole race under our control almost to aman."
"_Almost_ to a man?"
"We find some so attached to their former masters that reason isimpossible with them. Even threats and the promise of forty acres of landhave no influence."
The old man snorted with contempt.
"If anything could reconcile me to the Satanic Institution it is thecharacter of the wretches who submit to it and kiss the hand that strikes.After all, a slave deserves to be a slave. The man who is mean enough towear chains ought to wear them. You must teach, _teach_, TEACH these blackhounds to know they are men, not brutes!"
The old man paused a moment, and his restless hands fumbled the cover.
"Your first task, as I told you in the beginning, is to teach every negroto stand erect in the presence of his former master and assert hismanhood. Unless he does this, the South will bristle with bayonets invain. The man who believes he is a dog, is one. The man who believeshimself a king, may become one. Stop this snivelling and sneaking roundthe back doors. I can do nothing, God Almighty can do nothing, for acoward. Fix this as the first law of your own life. Lift up your head! Theworld is yours. Take it. Beat this into the skulls of your people, if youdo it with an axe. Teach them the military drill at once. I'll see thatWashington sends the guns. The state, when under your control, can furnishthe powder."
"It will surprise you to know the thoroughness with which this has beendone already by the League," said Lynch. "The white master believed hecould vote the negro as he worked him in the fields during the war. TheLeague, with its blue flaming altar, under the shadows of night, haswrought a miracle. The negro is the enemy of his former master and will befor all time."
"For the present," said the old man meditatively, "not a word to a livingsoul as to my connection with this work. When the time is ripe, I'll showmy hand."
Elsie entered, protesting against her father's talking longer, and showedLynch to the door.
He paused on the moonlit porch and tried to engage her in familiar talk.
She cut him short, and he left reluctantly.
As he bowed his thick neck in pompous courtesy, she caught with a shiverthe odour of pomade on his black half-kinked hair. He stopped on the lowerstep, looked back with smiling insolence, and gazed intently at herbeauty. The girl shrank from the gleam of the jungle in his eyes andhurried within.
She found her father sunk in a stupor. Her cry brought the young surgeonhurrying into the room, and at the end of an hour he said to Elsie andPhil:
"He has had a stroke of paralysis. He may lie in mental darkness formonths and then recover. His heart action is perfect. Patience, care, andlove will save him. There is no cause for immediate alarm."
