THE MARCH AFTERNOON was windy and cold, and Scarlett pulled the lap robe high underher arms as she drove out the Decatur road toward Johnnie Gallegher’s mill. Driving alone washazardous these days and she knew it, more hazardous than ever before, for now the negroes werecompletely out of hand. As Ashley had prophesied, there had been hell to pay since the legislaturerefused to ratify the amendment. The stout refusal had been like a slap in the face of the furiousNorth and retaliation had come swiftly. The North was determined to force the negro vote on thestate and, to this end, Georgia had been declared in rebellion and put under the strictest martial law.
Georgia’s very existence as a state had been wiped out and it had become, with Florida andAlabama, “Military District Number Three,” under the command of a Federal general.
If life had been insecure and frightening before this, it was doubly so now. The militaryregulations which had seemed so stringent the year before were now mild by comparison with theones issued by General Pope. Confronted with the prospect of negro rule, the future seemed darkand hopeless, and the embittered state smarted and writhed helplessly. As for the negroes, theirnew importance went to their heads, and, realizing that they had the Yankee Army behind them,their outrages increased. No one was safe from them.
In this wild and fearful time, Scarlett was frightened—frightened but determined, and she stillmade her rounds alone, with Frank’s pistol tucked in the upholstery of the buggy. She silentlycursed the legislature for bringing this worse disaster upon them all. What good had it done, thisfine brave stand, this gesture which everyone called gallant? It had just made matters so muchworse.
As she drew near the path that led down through the bare trees into the creek bottom where theShantytown settlement was, she clucked to the horse to quicken his speed. She always felt uneasydriving past this dirty, sordid cluster of discarded army tents and slave cabins. It had the worstreputation of any spot in or near Atlanta, for here lived in filth outcast negroes, black prostitutesand a scattering of poor whites of the lowest order. It was rumored to be the refuge of negro andwhite criminals and was the first place the Yankee soldiers searched when they wanted a man.
Shootings and cuttings went on here with such regularity that the authorities seldom troubled toinvestigate and generally left the Shantytowners to settle their own dark affairs. Back in the woodsthere was a still that manufactured a cheap quality of corn whisky and, by night, the cabins in thecreek bottoms resounded with drunken yells and curses.
Even the Yankees admitted that it was a plague spot and should be wiped out, but they took nosteps in this direction. Indignation was loud among the inhabitants of Atlanta and Decatur whowere forced to use the road for travel between the two towns. Men went by Shantytown with theirpistols loosened in their holsters and nice women never willingly passed it, even under theprotection of their men, for usually there were drunken negro slatterns sitting along the road,hurling insults and shouting coarse words.
As long as she had Archie beside her, Scarlett had not given Shantytown a thought, because noteven the most impudent negro woman dared laugh in her presence. But since she had been forcedto drive alone, there had been any number of annoying, maddening incidents. The negro slutsseemed to try themselves whenever she drove by. There was nothing she could do except ignorethem and boil with rage. She could not even take comfort in airing her troubles to her neighbors orfamily because the neighbors would say triumphantly: “Well, what else did you expect?” And herfamily would take on dreadfully again and try to stop her. And she had no intention of stopping hertrips.
Thank Heaven, there were no ragged women along the roadside today! As she passed the trailleading down to the settlement she looked with distaste at the group of shacks squatting in thehollow in the dreary slant of the afternoon sun. There was a chill wind blowing, and as she passedthere came to her nose the mingled smells of wood smoke, frying pork and untended privies.
Averting her nose, she flapped the reins smartly across the horse’s back and hurried him past andaround the bend of the road.
Just as she was beginning to draw a breath of relief, her heart rose in her throat with suddenfright, for a huge negro slipped silently from behind a large oak tree. She was frightened but notenough to lose her wits and, in an instant, the horse was pulled up and she had Frank’s pistol in herhand.
What do you want?” she cried with all the sternness she could muster. The big negro duckedback behind the oak, and the voice that answered was frightened.
Lawd, Miss Scarlett, doan shoot Big Sam
Big Sam! For a moment she could not take in his words. Big Sam, the foreman of Tara whomshe had seen last in the days of the siege. What on earth ...
Come out of there and let me see if you are really Sam
Reluctantly he slid out of his hiding place, a giant ragged figure, bare-footed, clad in denimbreeches and a blue Union uniform jacket that was far too short and tight for his big frame. Whenshe saw it was really Big Sam, she shoved the pistol down into the upholstery and smiled withpleasure.
Oh, Sam! How nice to see you
Sam galloped over to the buggy, his eyes rolling with joy and his white teeth flashing, andclutched her outstretched hand with two black hands as big as hams. His watermelon-pink tonguelapped out, his whole body wiggled and his joyful contortions were as ludicrous as the gambolingsof a mastiff.
Mah Lawd, it sho is good ter see some of de fambly agin!” he cried, scrunching her hand untilshe felt that the bones would crack. “Huccome you got so mean lak, totin’ a gun, Miss Scarlett
So many mean folks these days, Sam, that I have to tote it. What on earth are you doing in anasty place like Shantytown, you, a respectable darky? And why haven’t you been into town to seeme
Law’m, Miss Scarlett, Ah doan lib in Shantytown. Ah jes’ bidin’ hyah fer a spell. Ah wouldn
lib in dat place for nuthin’. Ah nebber in mah life seed sech trashy niggers. An’ Ah din’ know youwuz in ‘Lanta. Ah thought you wuz at Tara. Ah wuz aimin’ ter come home ter Tara soon as Ah gotde chance.
Have you been living in Atlanta ever since the siege
No, Ma’m! Ah been trabelin’!” He released her hand and she painfully flexed it to see if thebones were intact. “ ‘Member w’en you seed me las
Scarlett remembered the hot day before the siege began when she and Rhett had sat in thecarriage and the gang of negroes with Big Sam at their head had marched down the dusty streettoward the entrenchments singing “Go Down, Moses.” She nodded.
Wel, Ah wuked lak a dawg diggin’ bresswuks an’ fillin’ san’ bags, tell de Confedruts lef ‘Lanta.
De cap’n gempmum whut had me in charge, he wuz kilt an’ dar warn’t nobody ter tell Big Samwhut ter do, so Ah jes’ lay low in de bushes. Ah thought Ah’d try ter git home ter Tara, but den Ahhear dat all de country roun’ Tara done buhnt up. ‘Sides, Ah din’ hab no way ter git back an’ Ah wuz sceered de patterollers pick me up, kase Ah din’ hab no pass. Den de Yankees come in an’ aYankee gempmum, he wuz a cunnel, he tek a shine ter me an’ he keep me te ten’ ter his hawse an
his boots.
Yas, Ma’m! Ah sho did feel bigitty, bein’ a body serbant lak Poke, w’en Ah ain’ nuthin’ but afe’el han’. Ah ain’ tell de Cunnel Ah wuz a fe’el han’ an’ he— Well, Miss Scarlett, Yankees isiggerunt folks! He din’ know de diffunce! So Ah stayed wid him an’ Ah went ter Sabannah widhim w’en Gin’ul Sherman went dar, an’ fo’ Gawd, Miss Scarlett, Ah nebber seed sech awful goin’onsas Ah seed on de way ter Sabannah! A-stealin’ an’ a-buhnin’—did dey buhn Tara, MissScarlett
They set fire to it, but we put it out.
Well’m, Ah sho glad ter hear dat. Tara mah home an’ Ah is aimin’ ter go back dar. An’ w’en dewah ober, de Cunnel he say ter me: ‘You Sam! You come on back Nawth wid me. Ah pay yougood wages.’ Well’m, lak all de niggers, Ah wuz honin’ ter try disyere freedom fo’ Ah went home,so Ah goes Nawth wid de Cunnel. Yas’m, us went ter Washington an’ Noo Yawk an’ den terBawston whar de Cunnel lib. Yas, Ma’am, Ah’s a trabeled nigger! Miss Scarlett, dar’s mo’ hawsesand cah’iges on dem Yankee streets dan you kin shake a stick at! Ah wuz sceered all de time Ahwuz gwine git runned ober
Did you like it up North, Sam
Sam scratched his woolly head.
Ah did—an’ Ah din’t. De Cunnel, he a mighty fine man an’ he unnerstan’ niggers. But his wife,she sumpin’ else. His wife, she call me ‘Mister’ fust time she seed me. Yas’m, she do dat an’ Ahlak ter drap in mah tracks w’en she do it. De Cunnel, he tell her ter call me ‘Sam’ an’ den she do it.
But all dem Yankee folks, fust time dey meet me, dey call me ‘Mist’ O’Hara.’ An’ dey ast mer terset down wid dem, lak Ah wuz jes’ as good as dey wuz. Well, Ah ain’ nebber set down wid w’itefolks an’ Ah is too ole ter learn. Dey treat me lak Ah jes’ as good as dey wuz, Miss Scarlett, but indere hearts, dey din’ lak me—dey din’ lak no niggers. An’ dey wuz sceered of me, kase Ah’s sobig. An’ dey wuz allus astin’ me ‘bout de blood houn’s dat chase me an’ de beatin’s Ah got. An’,Lawd, Miss Scarlett, Ah ain’ nebber got no beatin’s! You know Mist’ Gerald ain’ gwine let nobodybeat a ‘spensive nigger lak me
Wen Ah tell dem dat an’ tell dem how good Miss Ellen ter de niggers, an’ how she set up awhole week wid me w’en Ah had de pneumony, dey doan b’lieve me. An’, Miss Scarlett, Ah gotter honin’ fer Miss Ellen an’ Tara, tell it look lak Ah kain stan’ it no longer, an’ one night Ah lit outfer home, an’Ah rid de freight cahs all de way down ter ‘Lanta. Ef you buy me a ticket ter Tara, Ahsho be glad ter git home. Ah sho be glad ter see Miss Ellen and Mist’ Gerald agin. Ah done hadnuff freedom. Ah wants somebody ter feed me good vittles reg’lar, and tell me whut ter do an
whut not ter do, an’ look affer me w’en Ah gits sick. S’pose Ah gits de pneumony agin? Is datYankee lady gwine tek keer of me? No, Ma’m! She gwine call me ‘Mist’ O’Hara’ but she ain
gwine nuss me. But Miss Ellen, she gwine nuss me, do Ah git sick an’—whut’s de mattuh, MissScarlett
Pa and Mother are both dead, Sam.
Daid? Is you funnin’ wid me, Miss Scarlett? Dat ain’ no way ter treat me
I’m not funning. It’s true. Mother died when Sherman men came through Tara and Pa—hewent last June. Oh, Sam, don’t cry. Please don’t! If you do, I’ll cry too. Sam, don’t! I just can’tstand it. Let’s don’t talk about it now. I’ll tell you all about it some other time. ... Miss Suellen is atTara and she’s married to a mighty fine man, Mr. Will Benteen. And Miss Carreen, she’s in a
Scarlett paused. She could never make plain to the weeping giant what a convent was. “She’sliving in Charleston now. But Pork and Prissy are at Tara. ... There, Sam, wipe your nose. Do youreally want to go home
Yas’m but it ain’ gwine be lak Ah thought wid Miss Ellen an
Sam, how’d you like to stay here in Atlanta and work for me? I need a driver and I need onebad with so many mean folks around these days.
Yas’m, You sho do. Ah been aimin’ ter say you ain’ got no bizness drivin’ ‘round by yo’seff,Miss Scarlett You ain’ got no notion how mean some niggers is dese days, specially dem whut livehyah in Shantytown. It ain’ safe fer you. Ah ain’ been in Shantytown but two days, but Ah heardem talk ‘bout you. An’ yesterday w’en you druv by an’ dem trashy black wenches holler at you,Ah recernize you but you went by so fas’ Ah couldn’ ketch you. But Ah sho tan de hides of demniggers! Ah sho did. Ain’ you notice dar ain’ none of dem roun’ hyah terday
I did notice and I certainly thank you, Sam. Well, how would you like to be my carriage man
Miss Scarlett, thankee, Ma’m, but Ah specs Ah better go ter Tara.
Big Sam looked down and his bare toe traced aimless marks in the road. There was a furtiveuneasiness about him.
Now, why? I’ll pay you good wages. You must stay with me.
The big black face, stupid and as easily read as a child’s, looked up at her and there was fear init. He came closer and, leaning over the side of the buggy, whispered: “Miss Scarlett, Ah got ter gitouter ‘Lanta. Ah got ter git ter Tara whar dey woan fine me. Ah—Ah done kilt a man.
A darky
No’m. A w’ite man. A Yankee sojer and dey’s lookin’ fer me. Dat de reason Ah’m hyah atShantytown.
How did it happen
He wuz drunk an’ he said sumpin’ Ah couldn’ tek noways an’ Ah got mah han’s on his neck—an’ Ah din’ mean ter kill him, Miss Scarlett, but mah han’s is pow’ful strong, an’ fo’ Ah knowed it,he wuz kilt. An’ Ah wuz so sceered Ah din’ know whut ter do! So Ah come out hyah ter hide an
w’en Ah seed you go by yestiddy, Ah says ‘Bress Gawd! Dar Miss Scarlett! She tek keer of me.
She ain’ gwine let de Yankees git me. She sen’ me back ter Tara.
You say they’re after you? They know you did it
Yas’m, Ah’s so big dar ain’ no mistakin’ me. Ah spec Ah’s de bigges’ nigger in ‘Lanta. Deydone been out hyah already affer me las’ night but a nigger gal, she hid me in a cabe ober in dewoods, tell dey wuz gone.
Scarlett sat frowning for a moment. She was not in the least alarmed or distressed that Sam hadcommitted murder, but she was disappointed that she could not have him as a driver. A big negrolike Sam would be as good a bodyguard as Archie. Well, she must get him safe to Tara somehow,for of course the authorities must not get him. He was too valuable a darky to be hanged. Why, hewas the best foreman Tara had ever had! It did not enter Scarlett’s mind that he was free. He stillbelonged to her, like Pork and Mammy and Peter and Cookie and Prissy. He was still “one of ourfamily” and, as such, must be protected.
I’ll send you to Tara tonight,” she said finally. “Now Sam, I’ve got to drive out the road apiece, but I ought to be back here before sundown. You be waiting here for me when I come back.
Don’t tell anyone where you are going and if you’ve got a hat, bring it along to hide your face.
Ah ain’ got no hat.
Well, here’s a quarter. You buy a hat from one of those shanty darkies and meet me here.
Yas’m.” His face glowed with relief at once more having someone to tell him what to do.
Scarlett drove on thoughtfully. Will would certainly welcome a good field hand at Tara. Porkhad never been any good in the fields and never would be any good. With Sam on the place, Porkcould come to Atlanta and join Dilcey as she had promised him when Gerald died.
When she reached the mill the sun was setting and it was later than she cared to be out. JohnnieGallegher was standing in the doorway of the miserable shack that served as cook room for thelittle lumber camp. Sitting on a log in front of the slab-sided shack that was their sleeping quarterswere four of the five convicts Scarlett had apportioned to Johnnie’s mill. Their convict uniformswere dirty and foul with sweat, shackles clanked between their ankles when they moved tiredly,and there was an air of apathy and despair about them. They were a thin, unwholesome lot, Scarlettthought, peering sharply at them, and when she had leased them, so short a time before, they werean upstanding crew. They did not even raise their eyes as she dismounted from the buggy butJohnnie turned toward her, carelessly dragging off his hat. His little brown face was as hard as anut as he greeted her.
I don’t like the look of the men,” she said abruptly. “They don’t look well. Where’s the otherone
Says he’s sick,” said Johnnie laconically. “He’s in the bunk house.
What ails him
Laziness, mostly.
I’ll go see him.
Don’t do that. He’s probably nekkid. I’ll tend to him. He’ll be back at work tomorrow.
Scarlett hesitated and saw one of the convicts raise a weary head and give Johnnie a stare ofintense hatred before he looked at the ground again.
Have you been whipping these men
Now, Mrs. Kennedy, begging your pardon, who’s running this mill? You put me in charge andtold me to run it. You said I’d have a free hand. You ain’t got no complaints to make of me, have you? Ain’t I making twice as much for you as Mr. Elsing did
Yes, you are,” said Scarlett, but a shiver went over her, like a goose walking across her grave.
There was something sinister about this camp with its ugly shacks, something which had notbeen here when Hugh Elsing had it. There was a loneliness, an isolation, about it that chilled her.
These convicts far away from everything, so completely at the mercy of Johnnie Gallegher,andifhec(were) hos(so) e to whip them or otherwise mistreat them, she would probably neverknow about it. The convicts would be afraid to complain to her for fear of worse punishment aftershe was gone.
The men look thin. Are you giving them enough to eat? God knows, I spend enough money ontheir food to make them fat as hogs. The flour and pork alone cost thirty dollars last month. Whatare you giving them for supper
She stepped over to the cook shack and looked in. A fat mulatto woman, who was leaning over arusty old stove, dropped a half curtsy as she saw Scarlett and went on stirring a pot in which black-eyed peas were cooking. Scarlett knew Johnnie Gallegher lived with her but thought it best toignore the fact. She saw that except for the peas and a pan of corn pone there was no other foodbeing prepared.
Haven’t you got anything else for these men
No’m.
Haven’t you got any side meat in these peas
No’m.
No boiling bacon in the peas? But black-eyed peas are no good without bacon. There’s nostrength to them. Why isn’t there any bacon
Mist’ Johnnie, he say dar ain’ no use puttin’ in no side meat.
You’ll put bacon in. Where do you keep your supplies
The negro woman rolled frightened eyes toward the small closet that served as a pantry andScarlett threw the door open. There was an open barrel of cornmeal on the floor, a small sack offlour, a pound of coffee, a little sugar, a gallon jug of sorghum and two hams. One of the hamssitting on the shelf had been recently cooked and only one or two slices had been cut from it,Scarlett turned in a fury on Johnnie Gallegher and met his coldly angry gaze.
Where are the five sacks of white flour I sent out last week? And the sugar sack and the coffee
And I had five hams sent and ten pounds of side meat and God knows how many bushels of yamsand Irish potatoes. Well, where are they? You can’t have used them all in a week if you fed the menfive meals a day. You’ve sold them! That’s what you’ve done, you thief! Sold my good suppliesand put the money in your pocket and fed these men on dried peas and corn pone. No wonder theylook so thin. Get out of the way.
She stormed past him to the doorway.
You, man, there on the end—yes, you! Come here
The man rose and walked awkwardly toward her, his shackles clanking, and she saw that hisbare ankles were red and raw from the chafing of the iron.
When did you last have ham
The man looked down at the ground.
Speak up.
Still the man stood silent and abject. Finally he raised his eyes, looked Scarlett in the faceimploringly and dropped his gaze again.
Scared to talk, eh? Well, go in the pantry and get that ham off the shelf. Rebecca, give him yourknife. Take it out to those men and divide it up. Rebecca, make some biscuits and coffee for themen. And serve plenty of sorghum. Start now, so I can see you do it.
Dat’s Mist’ Johnnie’s privut flour an’ coffee,” Rebecca muttered frightenedly.
Mr. Johnnie’s, my foot! I suppose it’s his private ham too. You do what I say. Get busy. JohnnieGallegher, come out to the buggy with me.
She stalked across the littered yard and climbed into the buggy, noticing with grim satisfactionthat the men were tearing at the ham and cramming bits into their mouths voraciously. They lookedas if they feared it would be taken from them at any minute.
You are a rare scoundrel!” she cried furiously to Johnnie as he stood at the wheel, his hatpushed back from his lowering brow. “And you can just hand over to me the price of my supplies.
In the future, I’ll bring you provisions every day instead of ordering them by the month. Then youcan’t cheat me.
In the future I won’t be here,” said Johnnie Gallegher.
You mean you are quitting
For a moment it was on Scarlett’s hot tongue to cry: “Go and good riddance!” but the cool handof caution stopped her. If Johnnie should quit, what would she do? He had been doubling theamount of lumber Hugh turned out. And just now she had a big order, the biggest she had ever hadand a rush order at that. She had to get that lumber into Atlanta. If Johnnie quit, whom would sheget to take over the mill
Yes, I’m quitting. You put me in complete charge here and you told me that all you expected ofme was as much lumber as I could possibly get out. You didn’t tell me how to run my businessthen and I’m not aiming to have you start now. How I get the lumber out is no affair of yours. Youcan’t complain that I’ve fallen down on my bargain. I’ve made money for you and I’ve earned mysalary—and what I could pick up on the side, too. And here you come out here, interfering, askingquestions and breaking my authority in front of the men. How can you expect me to keepdiscipline after this? What if the men do get an occasional lick? The lazy scum deserve worse.
What if they ain’t fed up and pampered? They don’t deserve nothing better. Either you tend to yourbusiness and let me tend to mine or I quit tonight.
His hard little face looked flintier than ever and Scarlett was in a quandary. If he quit tonight,what would she do? She couldn’t stay here all night guarding the convicts
Something of her dilemma showed in her eyes for Johnnie’s expression changed subtly andsome of the hardness went out of his face. There was an easy agreeable note in his voice when hespoke.
It’s getting late, Mrs. Kennedy, and you’d better be getting on home. We ain’t going to fall outover a little thing like this, are we? S’pose you take ten dollars out of my next month’s wages andlet’s call it square.
Scarlett’s eyes went unwillingly to the miserable group gnawing on the ham and she thought ofthe sick man lying in the windy shack. She ought to get rid of Johnnie Gallegher. He was a thiefand a brutal man. There was no telling what he did to the convicts when she wasn’t there. But, onthe other hand, he was smart and, God knows, she needed a smart man. Well, she couldn’t partwith him now. He was making money for her. She’d just have to see to it that the convicts got theirproper rations in the future.
I’ll take twenty dollars out of your wages,” she said shortly, “and I’ll be back and discuss thematter further in the morning.
She picked up the reins. But she knew there would be no further discussion. She knew that thematter had ended there and she knew Johnnie knew it.
As she drove off down the path to the Decatur road her conscience battled with her desire formoney. She knew she had no business exposing human lives to the hard little man’s mercies. If heshould cause the death of one of them she would be as guilty as he was, for she had kept him incharge after learning of his brutalities. But on the other hand—well, on the other hand, men had nobusiness getting to be convicts. If they broke laws and got caught, then they deserved what theygot. This partly salved her conscience but as she drove down the road the dull thin faces of theconvicts would keep coming back into her mind.
Oh, I’ll think of them later,” she decided, and pushed the thought into the lumber room of hermind and shut the door upon it.
The sun had completely gone when she reached the bend in the road above Shantytown and thewoods about her were dark. With the disappearance of the sun, a bitter chill had fallen on thetwilight world and a cold wind blew through the dark woods, making the bare boughs crack andthe dead leaves rustle. She had never been out this late by herself and she was uneasy and wishedherself home.
Big Sam was nowhere to be seen and, as she drew rein to wait for him, she worried about hisabsence, fearing the Yankees might have already picked him up. Then she heard footsteps comingup the path from the settlement and a sigh of relief went through her lips. She’d certainly dressSam down for keeping her waiting.
But it wasn’t Sam who came round the bend.
It was a big ragged white man and a squat black negro with shoulders and chest like a gorilla.
Swiftly she flapped the reins on the horse’s back and clutched the pistol. The horse started to trotand suddenly shied as the white man threw up his hand.
Lady,” he said, “can you give me a quarter? I’m sure hungry.
Get out of the way,” she answered, keeping her voice as steady as she could. “I haven’t got anymoney. Giddap.
With a sudden swift movement the man’s hand was on the horse’s bridle.
Grab her!” he shouted to the negro. “She’s probably got her money in her bosom
What happened next was like a nightmare to Scarlett, and it all happened so quickly. Shebrought up her pistol swiftly and some instinct told her not to fire at the white man for fear ofshooting the horse. As the negro came running to the buggy, his black face twisted in a leeringgrin, she fired point-blank at him. Whether or not she hit him, she never knew, but the next minutethe pistol was wrenched from her hand by a grasp that almost broke her wrist. The negro wasbeside her, so close that she could smell the rank odor of him as he tried to drag her over the buggyside. With her one free hand she fought madly, clawing at his face, and then she felt his big hand ather throat and, with a ripping noise, her basque was torn open from neck to waist. Then the blackhand fumbled between her breasts, and terror and revulsion such as she had never known cameover her and she screamed like an insane woman.
Shut her up! Drag her out!” cried the white man, and the black hand fumbled across Scarlett’sface to her mouth. She bit as savagely as she could and then screamed again, and through herscreaming she heard the white man swear and realized that there was a third man in the dark road.
The black hand dropped from her mouth and the negro leaped away as Big Sam charged at him.
Run, Miss Scarlett!” yelled Sam, grappling with the negro; and Scarlett, shaking andscreaming, clutched up the reins and whip and laid them both over the horse. It went off at a jumpand she felt the wheels pass over something soft, something resistant. It was the white man wholay in the road where Sam had knocked him down.
Maddened by terror, she lashed the horse again and again and it struck a gait that made thebuggy rock and sway. Through her terror she was conscious of the sound of feet running behindher and she screamed at the horse to go faster. If that black ape got her again, she would die beforehe even got his hands upon her.
A voice yelled behind her: “Miss Scarlett! Stop
Without slacking, she looked trembling over her shoulder and saw Big Sam racing down theroad behind her, his long legs working like hard-driven pistons. She drew rein as he came up andhe flung himself into the buggy, his big body crowding her to one side. Sweat and blood werestreaming down his face as he panted
Is you hu’t? Did dey hu’t you
She could not speak, but seeing the direction of his eyes and their quick averting, she realizedthat her basque was open to the waist and her bare bosom and corset cover were showing. With ashaking hand she clutched the two edges together and bowing her head began to cry in terrifiedsobs.
Gimme dem lines,” said Sam, snatching the reins from her. “Hawse, mek tracks
The whip cracked and the startled horse went off at a wild gallop that threatened to throw the buggy into the ditch.
Ah hope Ah done kill dat black baboon. But Ah din’ wait ter fine out,” he panted. “But ef hehahmed you, Miss Scarlett, Ah’ll go back an’ mek sho of it.
No—no—drive on quickly,” she sobbed.