Black Canaan | Page 5

this
cabin, until you're ready to leave for New Orleans or wherever you
want to go."
He capitulated, collapsed, and words tumbled from his livid lips.
"Saul Stark's a conjer man. He come here because it's way off in
back-country. He aim to kill all de white folks in Canaan-"
A growl rose from the group, such a growl as rises unbidden from the
throat of the wolf-pack that scents peril.
"He aim to make hisself king of Canaan. He sent me to spy dis mornin'
to see if Mistah Kirby got through. He sent men to waylay him on de
road, cause he knowed Mistah Kirby was comin' back to Canaan.
Niggers makin' voodoo on Tularoosa, for weeks now. Ridge Jackson
was goin' to tell Cap'n Sorley; so Stark's niggers foller him and kill him.
That make Stark mad. He ain't want to kill Ridge; he want to put him in
de swamp with Tunk Bixby and de others."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded.
Far out in the woods rose a strange, shrill cry, like the cry of a bird. But
no such bird ever called before in Canaan. Tope cried out as if in
answer, and shriveled into himself. He sank down on the bunk in a
veritable palsy of fear.
"That was a signal!" I snapped. "Some of you go out there."
Half a dozen men hastened to follow my suggestion, and I returned to
the task of making Tope renew his revelations. It was useless. Some

hideous fear had sealed his lips. He lay shuddering like a stricken
animal, and did not even seem to hear our questions. No one suggested
the use of the blacksnake. Anyone could see the Negro was paralyzed
with terror.
Presently the searchers returned empty-handed. They had seen no one,
and the thick carpet of pine needles showed no foot-prints. The men
looked at me expectantly. As Colonel Buckner's son, leadership was
expected of me.
"What about it, Kirby?" asked McBride. "Breckinridge and the others
have just rode in. They couldn't find that nigger you cut up."
"There was another' nigger I hit with a pistol," I said. "Maybe he came
back and helped him. "Still I could not bring myself to mention the
brown girl. "Leave Tope alone. Maybe he'll get over his scare after a
while. Better keep a guard in the cabin all the time. The swamp niggers
may try to get him as they got Ridge Jackson. Better scour the roads
around the town, Esau; there may be some of them hiding in the
woods."
"I will. I reckon you'll want to be gettin' up to the house, now, and
seein' your folks."
"Yes. And I want to swap these toys for a couple of .44s. Then I'm
going to ride out and tell the country people to come into Grimesville.
If it's to be an uprising, we don't know when it will commence."
"You're not goin' alone!" protested McBride.
"I'll be all right," I answered impatiently. "All this may not amount to
anything, but it's best to be on the safe side. That's why I'm going after
the country folks. No, I don't want anybody to go with me. Just in case
the niggers do get crazy enough to attack the town, you'll need every
man you've got. But if I can get hold of some of the swamp niggers and
talk to them, I don't think there'll be any attack."
"You won't get a glimpse of them," McBride predicted.

3. Shadows over Canaan
It was not yet noon when I rode out of the village westward along the
old road. Thick woods swallowed me quickly. Dense walls of pines
marched with me on either hand, giving way occasionally to fields
enclosed with straggling rail fences, with the log cabins of the tenants
or owners close by, with the usual litters of tow-headed children and
lank hound dogs.
Some of the cabins were empty. The occupants, if white, had already
gone into Grimesville; if black they had gone into the swamps, or fled
to the hidden refuge of the town niggers, according to their affiliations.
In any event, the vacancy of their hovels was sinister in its suggestion.
A tense silence brooded over the pinelands, broken only by the
occasional wailing call of a plowman. My progress was not swift, for
from time to time I turned off the main road to give warning to some
lonely cabin huddled on the bank of one of the many thicket-fringed
creeks. Most of these farms were south of the road; the white
settlements did not extend far to the north; for in that direction lay
Tularoosa Creek with its jungle-grown marshes that stretched inlets
southward like groping fingers.
The actual warning was brief; there was no need to