The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1903-03-01
IContinued from Last Sundays News)
CHAPTER XI.
JOHN BROWNS BODY.

JOHN BROWNS BODY.
All morning horsemen had been gall
Looping through Six-Cross- Roads, some
times singly, oftener in company. At
O'Clock the last posse passed through
on its return to the county seat, and
after that there was a long, complete
silence. while the miry corners were
undisturbed by a single hoof-beat. No
unkempt colt nickered from his musty
stall; the sparse young corn that was
used to rasp and chuckle greenly stood
rigid in the fields. Up the Plattviile
pike despairingly cackled one old hen,
with her wabbling sailor run, smit with
a superstitious horror of nothing, in
the stiffness; she hid herself in the
shadow underneath a rickety barn, and
her shrieking ceased.
Only on the Windy farm were there
signs of life. The old lady who had
sent HAIRLESS roses sat by the window
all morning and wiped her eyes,
watching the horsemen ride by; some
times they would hail her and tell her
there was nothing yet. About O'Clock
her husband ratled up in blackboard,
and got out the late, and more anthem
tic, Mr. Wimby's shotgun, which he
carefully cleaned and oiled, In spite Oh
its hammerless and quite useless condl-
ton, sitting, meanwhile, by the WINDOW
opposite his WIFE and often looking up
from his work to shake his weak INST
at his neighb orS domicileS ana creak
decrepit curses and denunciations.
But the CROSSROADS WAS ready. 1t
knew what was coming now. Fright
ened, desperate, sullen, it was ready.
The afternoon wore on, and length
ening shadows fell upon a peaceful-
one would have said, sleeping
try. The sun-dried pike, already dus-
ty. stretched its serene length between
green bordens fiecked with purple ana
yellow and white weed flowers; and the
tree shadows were not shade, but warm
blue and lavender glows in the gen
eral pervasion of still, bright light the
sky curving its deep, unburnlshed'
penetrable blue over all, with no single
drift of fleece upon it to be reflected
in the creek that wound along past
willow and sycamore. A woodpeckers
telegraphy broke the quiet like a vol
ley of pistol shots.
But far eastward on the pike there
slowly developed a soft, white haze
1t grew denser and larger. Gradually
il rolled nearer Dimly behind 1t could
that extended far back upon the road.
A heavy tremor began to stir the air
faint manifold sounds, a waxing, IN
creasing, multitudinous rumor.
The pike assembled a long, slight slope
leading west up to the Cross Roads.
From a thicket of iron-weed at the
foot of this slope was thrust the hard,
lean visage of an understood girl of IA.
Her fierce eyes examined the approach
ing cloud of dust intently. A redness
rose under the burnt yellow skin and
colored the wizened cheeks.
They were coming.
She stepped quickly out of the tangle
and darted up the road. running with
the speed of a fleet little terrier, not
opening her lips, not calling out, but
holding her two thin hands high above
her head. That was all. But Birnam
wood was come to Dunsinane at last,
and the messenger sped. out of the
weeds in the corners of the snake
fence, in the upper part of the rise. ST.
lently lifted the heads of men whose
sallowness became a sickish white as
the child flew by.
The mob was carefully organized.
They had taken their time and had
prepared everything deliberately,
knowing that nothing could stop them.
No one had any thought of conceal
ment; it was all as open as the light
y,
Nothing had been determined as to
what was to be done at the Cross
Roads more definite than that the
place was to be wiped out. That was
comprehensive enough; the details
were quite certain to occur They were
all on foot. marching in fairly regular
ranks. In front walked Mr.. Watts,
the man HAIRLESS had abhorred in a
public spirit and befriended in private
to-day he was a hero and a leader,
marching to avenge his professional
oppressor and personal brother. Cool,
unruffled and, to outward vision, I'M
armed, marching the miles in his brown
frock coat and generous linen, his care
fully creased trousers neatly turned
up out of the dust he led the way. On
one side of him were the two Bowl
ders, on the other was Lige WillettS,
Mr.. Watts preserving peace between
the two young men with perfect tact
and sang-frod.
They kept good order and a simili-
tude of quiet for so many, except far
to the rear, where old Wilkerson was
bringing up the tail of the procession,
dragging a wretched yellow dog by a
slip-noose fastened around the poor
ours protesting neck, the knot careful
ly arranged under his right ear. In
spite of every command and protest,
Wilkerson had marched the whole way
uproariously singing John Browns
Body"
The sun was in the west when they
came in sight of the CROSSROADS, and
the cabins on the low slope stood out
angularly against the radiance beyond.