The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1895-01-06

me as we were returning to the town.
our presence there was no longer neces-
sary and we had left the man hunters
making their preparations to conduct
the prisoner to Philippeville. Yes" he
repeated, you heard what he said. That
boy has the courage of a lion and some
thing above that even. You noticed that
he would not fire at me when he recog-
nized me. He will be hanged just as
soon as his wounds are better, and that
will not be long. And yet YOU saw that
his sole thought in the face of this
death, already so close to him. was to
have once more the drunkard's pleas
ure, and then oblivion"
Has he always been so?" asked.
Always" replied Mr.. Scott. and he
continued with a serious air. in which
one could perceive a little pain:
you must have noticed also that on
my part / could not shoot him when I
had him right at the end of my rifle
1t must have appeared inexplicable to
YOU to give an assassin once more
chance of escaping. And yet it was
very natural. You told me you had
heard that I'd been very good to him.
and l told you that it was not So at
any rate, toward the last, for at the be-
ginning liked him very much. Then 1
took a dislike to him for a very singu-
lar reason. It's about nine years ago.
1t was during the first period of my
stay here before 1 had even purchased
the Chastins' property. At that time,
as now, / hunted q very great deal and
Seymour was my constant companion.
had met him somewhere in the neigh
borhood by chance and L was very
pleased with his intelligence, with his
energy and also with his character. You
may add to that that he was also an
excellent coachman. Well. one day
when we left for the forest-he driving,
as usual-the two horses, which had
only recently arrived from Texas, took
fright and ran away. The road was
something like the one we are on now.
They hadn't gone two hundred yards
before the carriage came into collision
with the trunk of tree.
There was a crash and we were tum-
bled out. However. we picked ourselves
up, not very much hurt, and, as our
horses had stopped of themselves. we
commenced to repair our vehicle as well
as we could. and above all to get to-
gether again my hunting equipment,
which was scattered around in the
grass. After about a quarter of an
hour all the objects had been reunited
with the exception of a large knife.
which 1 used for cutting up the game
and which customarily rested in it's
sheath in the provision basket.
started to look for it and told Seymour
to look also. We were hunting for it in
the grass, when all at once. on turning,
i saw the end of the knife handle peep
ing through the opening of his vest.
For all that he pretended to continue
his search. bending over the ground. 1
called him to me and took from him the
knife which he was hiding in this way
under his shirt. He began to tremble
and to cry and finished by saying to me:
Il thought you were furious with
me, and that you were going to kill me,
so | stole the knife
Think! That was all he expected
from me--him whom / had always
treated like a SON.
Il can quite understand that you
could not suffer him near you after
that" / replied. After such conduct
from child of sixteen years, and one
must have been frightful.''
1T was, indeed" responded Mr.. Scott.
81 might have thought that this repug-
nant readiness to suspicion was an
heredity of slavery, the whites used
them so cruelty. But to see him feel
SO spontaneously such distrust gave me,
on the contrary. horrible impression
of base ingratitude. l ceased to go out
with him and almost to speak to him.
He became reDellant to me. And yet
L - II
had many proof of it since then, even
without counting the one he gave me
this morning. The sensation of his dis
grace was sufficient to let loose all the
evil in his nature--at least. / suppose
it was that AT any rate jewel-a
diamond brooch, | rememha~--belonging
to Miss Scott was stolen one day. 1t
was Seymour who had stolen it in or
der to make a present to his mistress
All the negroes are as DrecociouS in
debauch as they are in vanity. / dis
charged him. He went on stealing in
the neighborhood. He was captured,
condemned and sentenced To the chain
gang. He became still more depraved
stole again upon his release. was re-
captured. made his escape and COM
mitted murder. You know the rest
well, in spite of all / have always
had the conviction that if / had kept
the boy near me. even after the knife
episode, and tried to tame his savage
OF him. He was a good servant. He
was pleasant and had about him a gen.
tie, coaxing air 1t was. in fact, the
contrast between this charm of manner
and his monStrouS movement of dis
trust that made me take a hatred to
him. So much hypocrisy in SO young a
man was revolving. Do YOU think / was
right? In any case it all returned to
my mind when L had hira there at the
muzzle of my rifle, the very rifle which
he had carried for me so often / am
glad that l did not shoot. He will have
some time i'll which to repent before his
DEATH"
Events such as those / had Just been
witness of are not very extraordinary
in Philippeville, in city where they do
not recollect having passed a year with
out there being one or two lynchings.
The ordinary life. therefore, recon-.
menced its course Immediately and on
the very evening of that dramatic day,
when L went to buy some Richmond
tobacco. l recognized in the grocer who
sold II to me one of the horsemen with
whom had secured the forest in, search
or Henry Seymour. He was chewing
his quid with the same impossible