The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1896-03-29

the tongue protrudsng, the eyes MD cpeu.
starting from their dafk-ff4nged beds. ana
limbs bruised. and garments tsrn, show
that she suffered death snd dfshoncr AZ
one mercfIess moment
The black man gaxes IN silent horror
the people
Suddenly another thought comes - him;
tie fun red lips take on . leaden hue, the
strong limbs trsm6ie be sinks to his
knees.
Pressed Lord. they'll sth,nk hits ma"
he murfers to himself
ouivering In every muscle. stricken with
the palsy Of fear. he cannot rise: he
gzxes stoiidly At the fearful thing among
tbs blossoms and the thorns.
A crow caws noixsly oysrhead and he
starts In terror He sees. in frenxisd
fancy. the moon peering out Of black
clouds and a wretch grazcing ccnvulsiveiy
AZ the rope and pulling him up. Up. toward
heaven on his way to hell He hears the
cries Of agony uttered by another, -
flames begin TO scorch and seer the black
around In gIee
Harki The soft click OF wagon wheels.
. voice and an answering laugh How
horrible that Taught
With q mighty effort the negro rises. Is
tens moment. then leaps into the shickee
and bounds away. away, IL matters not
vhere-oniy away from the dead and the
living.
Thorns tear his black skin and rsd flesh,
but he feels them not. Rather and mecca
sin raise their angry heads, but he heeds
them not. On. on. on. through briar ard
brush. cznebreak and swamp: away.
away from the living tigers that are pur-
suing.
On. on. on. while the sun sinks slowly
H. a. - -
evening deepen and the stars come out.
and the young moon paints weird shadows
about him.
Hark, What's that, Dogs.
No: only . distant owl greeting ths
night.
But now. yes. yes. afar on the deep mel.
low note Of hounds upon a trail What
heavens music TO the hunter. what devils
chorus to the hunted!
Cunning aids the frenxied brain. Tue
negro turns toward the river and plunses
In, wading neck deep for endless hours.
until the stars as they wane. seem wea-isd
OF wickedness. sickened with sin, and sink
to their rest.
In the cold hush Of the dawn. q blask
form creeps slowly up the bank beyond,
the streaming rags giisteninS for a moment
In the suns rudy rays. then 1t disappears
in the gloom Of the painless swamp.
Three days later q man. gaunt with
famine. bruised and bleeding Ia garments
torn to shreds, totters to the door OF
cabin set in a small clearing among tho
elms. A black woman comes to the door
less opening in answer to the feeble
Hello"
Fer de love Of God, woman, give me
a bite TO eat" mutters the wretch
Land sakes. whar 20 bin. man? Looks
like ole nick ben er-clawin yer. But you
ncbah mine. come in, man; come in"
Corn pone and sorghum Is set before him.
and the trembling hands seize on IL hastily.
In few seconds 1t has disappeared. and
Is followed by a sigh.
whats de news from up bout Leba-
nom" the man mutters. as though fear
chokes the breath as the words tumble out.
Well. nothen much. 'cept dat de folks
burned de no count white trash wot
saulted an killed Miss Turner.
Get de right man." he sasps. one hand
ciinchins at the rags above his throbbing
heart, his white eyes glazing at the woman.
Shore nun. man. II wor Ben Thompson.
He done 'fessed all up whin dey took him.
Why. what's de trouble man?'
The poor, bruised black face drops sud
denly upon the rude pine table. and deep
sigh passes the swollen. smiling lips.
After q time the woman tenderly lifts the
strangers head, glarces once at the con-
gealed smile on the swollen lips-and drops
II.
The man was dead.
r. oTHMER LYNNE