The Sins of the Father: A Romance of the South. Thomas Dixon

anything wrong, have I, major?"

      "No."

      "You are not mad at me for anything?"

      "No, certainly not."

      "I wonder why you won't let me work here?"

      She looked about the room and back at him, speaking slowly, musingly, with an impudence that left little doubt in his mind that she suspected the real reason and was deliberately trying to tease him.

      He flushed, hurriedly withdrew his hand and replied carelessly:

      "You bother me – can't work when you're fooling around."

      "All right, good-bye."

      He turned to his work and she was gone. He was glad she was out of his sight and out of his life forever. He had been a fool to allow her in the building at all.

      He could concentrate his mind now on his fight with the Governor.

      CHAPTER IV

      THE ARREST

      The time had come in Norton's fight when he was about to be put to a supreme test.

      The Governor was preparing the most daring and sensational movement of his never-to-be-forgotten administration. The audacity and thoroughness with which the Klan had disarmed and made ridiculous his army of fifty thousand negroes was at first a stunning blow. In vain Schlitz stormed and pleaded for National aid.

      "You must ask for Federal troops without a moment's delay," he urged desperately.

      The Scalawag shook his head with quiet determination.

      "Congress, under the iron rule of Stevens, will send them, I grant you – "

      "Then why hesitate?"

      "Because their coming would mean that I have been defeated on my own soil, that my administration of the state is a failure."

      "Well, isn't it?"

      "No; I'll make good my promises to the men in Washington who have backed me. They are preparing to impeach the President, remove him from office and appoint a dictator in his stead. I'll show them that I can play my part in the big drama, too. I am going to deliver this state bound hand and foot into their hands, with a triumphant negro electorate in the saddle, or I'll go down in ignominious defeat."

      "You'll go down, all right – without those troops – mark my word," cried the Carpetbagger.

      "All right, I'll go down flying my own flag."

      "You're a fool!" Schlitz roared. "Union troops are our only hope!"

      His Excellency kept his temper. The little ferret eyes beneath their bushy brows were drawn to narrow lines as he slowly said:

      "On the other hand, my dear Schlitz, I don't think I could depend on Federal troops if they were here."

      "No?" was the indignant sneer.

      "Frankly I do not," was the even answer. "Federal officers have not shown themselves very keen about executing the orders of Reconstruction Governors. They have often pretended to execute them and in reality treated us with contempt. They hold, in brief, that they fought to preserve the Union, not to make negroes rule over white men! The task before us is not to their liking. I don't trust them for a moment. I have a better plan – "

      "What?"

      "I propose to raise immediately an army of fifty thousand loyal white men, arm and drill them without delay – "

      "Where'll you get them?" Schlitz cried incredulously.

      "I'll find them if I have to drag the gutters for every poor white scamp in the state. They'll be a tough lot, maybe, but they'll make good soldiers. A soldier is a man who obeys orders, draws his pay, and asks no questions – "

      "And then what?"

      "And then, sir! – "

      The Governor's leathery little face flushed as he sprang to his feet and paced the floor of his office in intense excitement.

      "I'll tell you what then!" Schlitz cried with scorn.

      The pacing figure paused and eyed his tormentor, lifting his shaggy brows:

      "Yes?"

      "And then," the Carpetbagger answered, "the Ku Klux Klan will rise in a night, jump on your mob of ragamuffins, take their guns and kick them back into the gutter."

      "Perhaps," the Governor said, musingly, "if I give them a chance! But I won't!"

      "You won't? How can you prevent it?"

      "Very simply. I'll issue a proclamation suspending the writ of habeas corpus– "

      "But you have no right," Schlitz gasped. The ex-scullion had been studying law the past two years and aspired to the Supreme Court bench.

      "My right is doubtful, but it will go in times of revolution. I'll suspend the writ, arrest the leaders of the Klan without warrant, put them in jail and hold them there without trial until the day after the election."

      Schlitz's eyes danced as he sprang forward and extended his fat hand to the Scalawag:

      "Governor, you're a great man! Only a great mind would dare such a plan. But do you think your life will be safe?"

      The little figure was drawn erect and the ferret eyes flashed:

      "The Governor of a mighty commonwealth – they wouldn't dare lift their little finger against me."

      Schlitz shook his head dubiously.

      "A pretty big job in times of peace – to suspend the civil law, order wholesale arrests without warrants by a ragged militia and hold your men without trial – "

      "I like the job!" was the quick answer. "I'm going to show the smart young man who edits the paper in this town that he isn't running the universe."

      Again the adventurer seized the hand of his chief:

      "Governor, you're a great man! I take my hat off to you, sir."

      His Excellency smiled, lifted his sloping shoulders, moistened his thin lips and whispered:

      "Not a word now to a living soul until I strike – "

      "I understand, sir, not a word," the Carpetbagger replied in low tones as he nervously fumbled his hat and edged his way out of the room.

      The editor received the Governor's first move in the game with contempt. It was exactly what he had expected – this organization of white renegades, thieves, loafers, cut-throats, and deserters. It was the last resort of desperation. Every day, while these dirty ignorant recruits were being organized and drilled, he taunted the Governor over the personnel of his "Loyal" army. He began the publication of the history of its officers and men. These biographical stories were written with a droll humor that kept the whole state in a good-humored ripple of laughter and inspired the convention that nominated a complete white man's ticket to renewed enthusiasm.

      And then the bolt from the blue – the Governor's act of supreme madness!

      As the editor sat at his desk writing an editorial congratulating the state on the brilliant ticket that the white race had nominated and predicting its triumphant election, in spite of negroes, thieves, cut-throats, Scalawags and Carpetbaggers, a sudden commotion on the sidewalk in front of his office stopped his pencil in the midst of an unfinished word.

      He walked to the window and looked out. By the flickering light of the street lamp he saw an excited crowd gathering in the street.

      A company of the Governor's new guard had halted in front. An officer ripped off the palings from the picket fence beside the building and sent a squad of his men to the rear.

      The tramp of heavy feet on the stairs was heard and the dirty troopers crowded into the editor's room, muskets in hand, cocked, and their fingers on the triggers.

      Norton quietly drew the pencil from his ear, smiled at the mottled group of excited men, and spoke in his slow drawl:

      "And why this excitement, gentlemen?"

      The captain stepped forward:

      "Are