The Hindered Hand; or, the Reign of the Repressionist by Sutton E. Griggs

Author:Sutton E. Griggs [Griggs, Sutton E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Good Press
Published: 2022-02-04T00:00:00+00:00

Young Maul's speech was now over, but he did not sit down. Having declared himself in the manner that he did, he knew that he was henceforth to be a political outcast, a pariah. He had not stood up for the extension of the caste idea to the political system and knew that its ban would henceforth be upon him. Yet in spite of the dreary future which his speech had carved out for him his soul was at ease, for he was conscious of having advocated that which was best for his people. Grasping his hat he strode out of the room, not waiting for the verdict of the jury.

"It is a pity that our section can find no place for so true a soul presided over by so bright a mind," thought the judge, his eyes following young Maul, as the latter passed out of the court room, and through the court house yard, looking neither to the right nor to the left. The people understood his going. He was saying that he had done his duty and personally could be absolved from concern as to results.

The lawyers for the defense, feeling sure of the jury, saw no necessity for the making of speeches on their part. They waived their rights in this particular, and the jury, after being solemnly charged by the judge, was handed the case.

The Negro at the door selling lemonade had been an eager listener to all that was said in the case. He had now totally suspended his sales and, standing in the door was eagerly scanning the faces of the jurymen, who had announced that they did not need to retire, but could return a verdict on the spot.

"Come here, darkey, with your lemonade," called a white man on the outside to the Negro.

The Negro obeyed, though his heart for some cause was in the court room. Suddenly there was a tumult in the court room and the Negro dropped his lemonade bucket and ran to the door. He saw a crowd surging about the lyncher that had been on trial, and he cried out in startling tones:

"Gemmen, don't do dat. Don't kill de man. De boy whut wuz burnt, I'm his daddy. I jes' wanted yer ter 'nounce de man guilty so as ter tek de stain off'n de dead; but fur Gawd's sake, don' lynch de man."

The judge saw through it all at once and hastened to Silas Harper's side, for it was he, Bud's father. In sorrowful tones the judge said, "You are mistaken, friend. They are congratulating the man. They are not trying to hurt him. The jury has said that he was not guilty. You had better come and go with me. They might become enraged against you and have another lynching."

Silas Harper's jaws fell apart in amazement and his eyes took on the look of a terror-stricken, hunted animal. He meekly slunk along after the judge, and to an outsider would have appeared to be a criminal doomed to die.

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