Jesus Christ in Texas

15 min

It was in Waco, Texas.

The convict guard laughed. "I don't know," he said, "I hadn't thought of that." He hesitated and looked at the stranger curiously. In the solemn twilight he got an impression of unusual height and soft, dark eyes. "Curious sort of acquaintance for the colonel," he thought; then he continued aloud: "But that nigger there is bad, a born thief, and ought to be sent up for life; got ten years last time—"

The convict guard laughed. "I don't know," he said. "I hadn't thought of that." He hesitated and looked at the stranger curiously. In the solemn twilight, he saw that the stranger was unusually tall and had soft, dark eyes. "An unusual acquaintance for the colonel," he thought. Then he continued aloud: "But that nigger there is bad, a born thief, and ought to be sent up for life. He got ten years last time."

Here the voice of the promoter, talking within, broke in; he was bending over his figures, sitting by the colonel. He was slight, with a sharp nose.

At that moment, the promoter's voice broke in from inside. He was sitting beside the colonel, bent over his figures. He was slight, with a sharp nose.

"The convicts," he said, "would cost us $96 a year and board. Well, we can squeeze this so that it won't be over $125 apiece. Now if these fellows are driven, they can build this line within twelve months. It will be running by next April. Freights will fall fifty per cent. Why, man, you'll be a millionaire in less than ten years."

"The convicts," he said, "would cost us $96 a year plus room and board. Well, we can keep that down to no more than $125 each. Now, if we push these men hard, they can build this line within twelve months. It will be running by next April. Freight rates will fall by fifty percent. Why, man, you'll be a millionaire in less than ten years."

The colonel started. He was a thick, short man, with a clean-shaven face and a certain air of breeding about the lines of his countenance; the word millionaire sounded well to his ears. He thought—he thought a great deal; he almost heard the puff of the fearfully costly automobile that was coming up the road, and he said:

The colonel was startled. He was a short, stout man with a clean-shaven face and a certain refinement in his features. The word millionaire sounded good to him. He thought a great deal. He could almost hear the puffing of the enormously expensive automobile coming up the road, and he said:

"I suppose we might as well hire them."

"Of course," answered the promoter.

"Of course," replied the promoter.

The voice of the tall stranger in the corner broke in here:

The tall stranger in the corner spoke up:

"It will be a good thing for them?" he said, half in question.

"It will be good for them?" he asked, sounding unsure.

The colonel moved. "The guard makes strange friends," he thought to himself. "What's this man doing here, anyway?" He looked at him, or rather looked at his eyes, and then somehow he felt a warming toward him. He said:

The colonel moved. "The guard makes strange friends," he thought. "What's this man doing here, anyway?" He looked at the man, or rather, at his eyes. Somehow, he began to warm to him. He said:

"Well, at least, it can't harm them; they're beyond that."

"Well, at least it can't hurt them. They're beyond that."

"It will do them good, then," said the stranger again.

"It will do them good, then," the stranger said again.

The promoter shrugged his shoulders. "It will do us good," he said.

The promoter shrugged. "It will do us good," he said.

But the colonel shook his head impatiently. He felt a desire to justify himself before those eyes, and he answered: "Yes, it will do them good; or at any rate it won't make them any worse than they are." Then he started to say something else, but here sure enough the sound of the automobile breathing at the gate stopped him and they all arose.

But the colonel shook his head impatiently. He wanted to justify himself before those eyes, so he answered: "Yes, it will do them good. Or at least it won't make them any worse than they are." He started to say something else, but just then, the sound of the car breathing at the gate stopped him. They all got up.

"It is settled, then," said the promoter.

"Then it's settled," said the promoter.

"Yes," said the colonel, turning toward the stranger again. "Are you going into town?" he asked with the Southern courtesy of white men to white men in a country town. The stranger said he was. "Then come along in my machine. I want to talk with you about this."

"Yes," said the colonel, turning back to the stranger. "Are you going into town?" he asked. He spoke with the Southern courtesy white men showed one another in a small town. The stranger said he was. "Then come along in my car. I want to talk with you about this."

They went out to the car. The stranger as he went turned again to look back at the convict. He was a tall, powerfully built black fellow. His face was sullen, with a low forehead, thick, hanging lips, and bitter eyes. There was revolt written about his mouth despite the hang-dog expression. He stood bending over his pile of stones, pounding listlessly. Beside him stood a boy of twelve,—yellow, with a hunted, crafty look. The convict raised his eyes and they met the eyes of the stranger. The hammer fell from his hands.

They went out to the car. As the stranger went, he turned to look back at the convict. The convict was a tall, powerfully built black man. His face was sullen, with a low forehead, thick, hanging lips, and bitter eyes. Despite his downcast expression, his mouth showed defiance. He stood bent over his pile of stones, pounding them without energy. Beside him stood a boy of twelve, yellow, with a hunted, crafty look. The convict looked up and met the stranger's eyes. The hammer fell from his hands.

The stranger turned slowly toward the automobile and the colonel introduced him. He had not exactly caught his name, but he mumbled something as he presented him to his wife and little girl, who were waiting.

The stranger turned slowly toward the car, and the colonel introduced him. The colonel had not quite caught his name, but he mumbled something as he introduced him to his waiting wife and little girl.

As they whirled away the colonel started to talk, but the stranger had taken the little girl into his lap and together they conversed in low tones all the way home.

As they sped away, the colonel started to talk. But the stranger had taken the little girl onto his lap. They spoke quietly together all the way home.

In some way, they did not exactly know how, they got the impression that the man was a teacher and, of course, he must be a foreigner. The long, cloak-like coat told this. They rode in the twilight through the lighted town and at last drew up before the colonel's mansion, with its ghost-like pillars.

Somehow, though they did not quite know how, they got the impression that the man was a teacher. Of course, he must be a foreigner. His long, cloak-like coat showed that. They rode through the lighted town at twilight and finally stopped in front of the colonel's mansion, with its ghostly pillars.

The lady in the back seat was thinking of the guests she had invited to dinner and was wondering if she ought not to ask this man to stay. He seemed cultured and she supposed he was some acquaintance of the colonel's. It would be rather interesting to have him there, with the judge's wife and daughter and the rector. She spoke almost before she thought:

The woman in the back seat was thinking about the guests she had invited to dinner. She wondered if she should ask this man to stay. He seemed cultured, and she assumed he was an acquaintance of the colonel. It would be rather interesting to have him there with the judge's wife and daughter and the rector. She spoke almost before she thought:

"You will enter and rest awhile?"

"Will you come in and rest for a while?"

The colonel and the little girl insisted. For a moment the stranger seemed about to refuse. He said he had some business for his father, about town. Then for the child's sake he consented.

The colonel and the little girl insisted. For a moment, the stranger seemed ready to refuse. He said he had some business to take care of in town for his father. Then he agreed for the little girl's sake.

Up the steps they went and into the dark parlor where they sat and talked a long time. It was a curious conversation. Afterwards they did not remember exactly what was said and yet they all remembered a certain strange satisfaction in that long, low talk.

They went up the steps and into the dark parlor, where they sat and talked for a long time. It was a strange conversation. Afterwards, they did not remember exactly what was said. Yet they all remembered a strange sense of satisfaction from that long, quiet talk.

Finally the nurse came for the reluctant child and the hostess bethought herself:

Finally, the nurse came for the reluctant child, and the hostess remembered:

"We will have a cup of tea; you will be dry and tired."

"We'll have a cup of tea. You'll be thirsty and tired."

She rang and switched on a blaze of light. With one accord they all looked at the stranger, for they had hardly seen him well in the glooming twilight. The woman started in amazement and the colonel half rose in anger. Why, the man was a mulatto, surely; even if he did not own the Negro blood, their practised eyes knew it. He was tall and straight and the coat looked like a Jewish gabardine. His hair hung in close curls far down the sides of his face and his face was olive, even yellow.

She rang the bell and switched on a blaze of light. They all looked at the stranger at once. They had hardly seen him clearly in the fading twilight. The woman started in amazement, and the colonel half rose in anger. Why, the man was surely a mulatto. Even if he did not admit to having Negro blood, their trained eyes knew it. He was tall and straight, and his coat looked like a Jewish gabardine. His hair hung in close curls far down the sides of his face. His face was olive, even yellow.

A peremptory order rose to the colonel's lips and froze there as he caught the stranger's eyes. Those eyes,—where had he seen those eyes before? He remembered them long years ago. The soft, tear-filled eyes of a brown girl. He remembered many things, and his face grew drawn and white. Those eyes kept burning into him, even when they were turned half away toward the staircase, where the white figure of the child hovered with her nurse and waved good-night. The lady sank into her chair and thought: "What will the judge's wife say? How did the colonel come to invite this man here? How shall we be rid of him?" She looked at the colonel in reproachful consternation.

A sharp order rose to the colonel's lips, but froze there when he caught the stranger's eyes. Those eyes. Where had he seen them before? He remembered them from long ago. They were the soft, tear-filled eyes of a brown girl. He remembered many things, and his face grew drawn and white. Those eyes kept burning into him, even when they turned halfway toward the staircase. There, the child in white lingered with her nurse and waved good night. The lady sank into her chair and thought: "What will the judge's wife say? How did the colonel come to invite this man here? How can we get rid of him?" She looked at the colonel with dismay and reproach.

Just then the door opened and the old butler came in. He was an ancient black man, with tufted white hair, and he held before him a large, silver tray filled with a china tea service. The stranger rose slowly and stretched forth his hands as if to bless the viands. The old man paused in bewilderment, tottered, and then with sudden gladness in his eyes dropped to his knees, and the tray crashed to the floor.

Just then, the door opened and the old butler came in. He was a very old black man with tufts of white hair. He carried a large silver tray with a china tea service on it. The stranger rose slowly and held out his hands as if to bless the food. The old man stopped, confused, and staggered. Then sudden joy filled his eyes and he dropped to his knees. The tray crashed to the floor.

"My Lord and my God!" he whispered; but the woman screamed: "Mother's china!"

"My Lord and my God!" he whispered. But the woman screamed: "Mother's china!"

The doorbell rang.

"Heavens! here is the dinner party!" exclaimed the lady. She turned toward the door, but there in the hall, clad in her night clothes, was the little girl. She had stolen down the stairs to see the stranger again, and the nurse above was calling in vain. The woman felt hysterical and scolded at the nurse, but the stranger had stretched out his arms and with a glad cry the child nestled in them. They caught some words about the "Kingdom of Heaven" as he slowly mounted the stairs with his little, white burden.

“Heavens! The dinner party is here!” the woman exclaimed. She turned toward the door, but the little girl was standing in the hall in her nightclothes. She had slipped downstairs to see the stranger again. Upstairs, the nurse was calling for her, but she would not come. The woman felt hysterical and scolded the nurse. But the stranger held out his arms, and the child nestled in them with a glad cry. They heard him say something about the “Kingdom of Heaven” as he slowly carried the little white child upstairs.

The mother was glad of anything to get rid of the interloper, even for a moment. The bell rang again and she hastened toward the door, which the loitering black maid was just opening. She did not notice the shadow of the stranger as he came slowly down the stairs and paused by the newel post, dark and silent.

The mother was glad of any chance to get rid of the intruder, even for a moment. The bell rang again, and she hurried to the door, which the black maid was just opening after lingering. She did not notice the stranger's shadow as he came slowly down the stairs. He paused by the post at the bottom, dark and silent.

The judge's wife came in. She was an old woman, frilled and powdered into a semblance of youth, and gorgeously gowned. She came forward, smiling with extended hands, but when she was opposite the stranger, somewhere a chill seemed to strike her and she shuddered and cried:

The judge's wife came in. She was an old woman, dressed in a gorgeous gown, with frills and powder to make her look young. She came forward smiling, with her hands outstretched. But when she stood opposite the stranger, a chill seemed to strike her. She shuddered and cried:

"What a draft!" as she drew a silken shawl about her and shook hands cordially; she forgot to ask who the stranger was. The judge strode in unseeing, thinking of a puzzling case of theft.

"What a draft!" she said, wrapping a silk shawl around herself and shaking hands warmly. She forgot to ask who the stranger was. The judge walked in without noticing, thinking about a puzzling theft case.

"Eh? What? Oh—er—yes,—good evening," he said, "good evening." Behind them came a young woman in the glory of youth, and daintily silked, beautiful in face and form, with diamonds around her fair neck. She came in lightly, but stopped with a little gasp; then she laughed gaily and said:

"Huh? What? Oh, um, yes, good evening," he said. "Good evening." Behind them came a young woman in the glory of youth, elegantly dressed in silk. She was beautiful in face and figure, with diamonds around her fair neck. She entered lightly, but stopped with a little gasp. Then she laughed merrily and said:

"Why, I beg your pardon. Was it not curious? I thought I saw there behind your man"—she hesitated, but he must be a servant, she argued—"the shadow of great, white wings. It was but the light on the drapery. What a turn it gave me." And she smiled again. With her came a tall, handsome, young naval officer. Hearing his lady refer to the servant, he hardly looked at him, but held his gilded cap carelessly toward him, and the stranger placed it carefully on the rack.

"Oh, excuse me. Wasn't that strange? I thought I saw behind your man," she hesitated, but reasoned that he must be a servant, "the shadow of great white wings. It was only the light on the drapery. What a fright it gave me." And she smiled again. A tall, handsome young naval officer was with her. When he heard his lady mention the servant, he hardly looked at him. He carelessly held out his gilded cap, and the stranger carefully placed it on the rack.

Last came the rector, a man of forty, and well-clothed. He started to pass the stranger, stopped, and looked at him inquiringly.

The rector came last. He was forty and well dressed. He started to pass the stranger, then stopped and looked at him questioningly.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I beg your pardon,—I think I have met you?"

"Excuse me," he said. "Excuse me, I think we've met?"

The stranger made no answer, and the hostess nervously hurried the guests on. But the rector lingered and looked perplexed.

The stranger did not answer, and the hostess nervously hurried the guests along. But the rector stayed behind, looking puzzled.

"Surely, I know you. I have met you somewhere," he said, putting his hand vaguely to his head. "You—you remember me, do you not?"

"Surely, I know you. I've met you somewhere," he said, vaguely raising a hand to his head. "You, you remember me, don't you?"

The stranger quietly swept his cloak aside, and to the hostess' unspeakable relief passed out of the door.

The stranger quietly swept his cloak aside and walked out the door, to the hostess's immense relief.

"I never knew you," he said in low tones as he went.

"I never knew you," he said quietly as he left.

The lady murmured some vain excuse about intruders, but the rector stood with annoyance written on his face.

The lady murmured a pointless excuse about intruders, but the rector stood there, visibly annoyed.

"I beg a thousand pardons," he said to the hostess absently. "It is a great pleasure to be here,—somehow I thought I knew that man. I am sure I knew him once."

"I'm very sorry," he said absentmindedly to the hostess. "It's a great pleasure to be here. Somehow, I thought I knew that man. I'm sure I knew him once."

The stranger had passed down the steps, and as he passed, the nurse, lingering at the top of the staircase, flew down after him, caught his cloak, trembled, hesitated, and then kneeled in the dust.

The stranger went down the steps. The nurse lingered at the top of the staircase. As he passed, she rushed down after him and caught his cloak. She trembled, hesitated, and then knelt in the dust.

He touched her lightly with his hand and said: "Go, and sin no more!"

He touched her lightly and said: "Go, and don't sin anymore!"

With a glad cry the maid left the house, with its open door, and turned north, running. The stranger turned eastward into the night. As they parted a long, low howl rose tremulously and reverberated through the night. The colonel's wife within shuddered.

With a joyful cry, the maid ran north from the house, leaving the door open. The stranger headed east into the night. As they parted, a long, low howl rose shakily and echoed through the night. Inside, the colonel's wife shuddered.

"The bloodhounds!" she said.

The rector answered carelessly:

The rector answered casually:

"Another one of those convicts escaped, I suppose. Really, they need severer measures." Then he stopped. He was trying to remember that stranger's name.

"Another one of those convicts escaped, I suppose. Really, they need stricter measures." Then he stopped. He was trying to remember the stranger's name.

The judge's wife looked about for the draft and arranged her shawl. The girl glanced at the white drapery in the hall, but the young officer was bending over her and the fires of life burned in her veins.

The judge's wife looked around for the draft and adjusted her shawl. The girl glanced at the white drapery in the hall. But the young officer was leaning over her, and the fire of life burned in her veins.

Howl after howl rose in the night, swelled, and died away. The stranger strode rapidly along the highway and out into the deep forest. There he paused and stood waiting, tall and still.

Howl after howl rose in the night, grew louder, and faded away. The stranger walked quickly along the road and deep into the forest. There he stopped and waited, standing tall and still.

A mile up the road behind a man was running, tall and powerful and black, with crime-stained face and convicts' stripes upon him, and shackles on his legs. He ran and jumped, in little, short steps, and his chains rang. He fell and rose again, while the howl of the hounds rang louder behind him.

A mile up the road behind, a man was running. He was tall, powerful, and black, with a crime-stained face. He wore a convict's striped uniform and shackles on his legs. He ran and jumped in short, little steps, and his chains rang. He fell and got up again as the hounds howled louder behind him.

Into the forest he leapt and crept and jumped and ran, streaming with sweat; seeing the tall form rise before him, he stopped suddenly, dropped his hands in sullen impotence, and sank panting to the earth. A greyhound shot out of the woods behind him, howled, whined, and fawned before the stranger's feet. Hound after hound bayed, leapt, and lay there; then silently, one by one, and with bowed heads, they crept backward toward the town.

He leapt, crept, jumped, and ran into the forest, streaming with sweat. When he saw the tall figure rise before him, he stopped suddenly. He dropped his hands in sullen helplessness and sank to the ground, panting. A greyhound raced out of the woods behind him. It howled, whined, and fawned at the stranger's feet. One hound after another barked, leapt, and lay down there. Then, silently, they crept backward toward the town, one by one, with their heads bowed.

The stranger made a cup of his hands and gave the man water to drink, bathed his hot head, and gently took the chains and irons from his feet. By and by the convict stood up. Day was dawning above the treetops. He looked into the stranger's face, and for a moment a gladness swept over the stains of his face.

The stranger cupped his hands and gave the man water to drink. He bathed the man's hot head and gently removed the chains and irons from his feet. After a while, the convict stood up. Day was breaking above the treetops. He looked into the stranger's face, and for a moment, joy swept across his stained face.

"Why, you are a nigger, too," he said.

Then the convict seemed anxious to justify himself.

Then the convict seemed eager to explain himself.

"I never had no chance," he said furtively.

"I never had no chance," he said secretively.

"Thou shalt not steal," said the stranger.

"Do not steal," said the stranger.

The man bridled.

The man bristled.

"But how about them? Can they steal? Didn't they steal a whole year's work, and then when I stole to keep from starving—" He glanced at the stranger.

"But what about them? Can they steal? Didn't they steal a whole year's work? And then when I stole to keep from starving..." He glanced at the stranger.

"No, I didn't steal just to keep from starving. I stole to be stealing. I can't seem to keep from stealing. Seems like when I see things, I just must—but, yes, I'll try!"

"No, I didn't steal just to keep from starving. I stole for the sake of stealing. I can't seem to stop. When I see things, I feel like I just have to steal them. But yes, I'll try!"

The convict looked down at his striped clothes, but the stranger had taken off his long coat; he had put it around him and the stripes disappeared.

The convict looked down at his striped clothes. But the stranger had taken off his long coat and wrapped it around him, hiding the stripes.

In the opening morning the black man started toward the low, log farmhouse in the distance, while the stranger stood watching him. There was a new glory in the day. The black man's face cleared up, and the farmer was glad to get him. All day the black man worked as he had never worked before. The farmer gave him some cold food.

Early that morning, the black man headed toward the low log farmhouse in the distance. The stranger stood watching him. The day had a new glory. The black man's face brightened, and the farmer was glad to have him. All day, the black man worked as he had never worked before. The farmer gave him some cold food.

"You can sleep in the barn," he said, and turned away.

"How much do I git a day?" asked the black man.

"How much do I get a day?" asked the black man.

The farmer scowled.

"Now see here," said he. "If you'll sign a contract for the season, I'll give you ten dollars a month."

"Now listen," he said. "If you sign a contract for the season, I'll pay you ten dollars a month."

"I won't sign no contract," said the black man doggedly.

"I won't sign no contract," said the black man stubbornly.

"Yes, you will," said the farmer, threateningly, "or I'll call the convict guard." And he grinned.

"Yes, you will," the farmer said threateningly, "or I'll call the convict guard." And he grinned.

The convict shrank and slouched to the barn. As night fell he looked out and saw the farmer leave the place. Slowly he crept out and sneaked toward the house. He looked through the kitchen door. No one was there, but the supper was spread as if the mistress had laid it and gone out. He ate ravenously. Then he looked into the front room and listened. He could hear low voices on the porch. On the table lay a gold watch. He gazed at it, and in a moment he was beside it,—his hands were on it! Quickly he slipped out of the house and slouched toward the field. He saw his employer coming along the highway. He fled back in tenor and around to the front of the house, when suddenly he stopped. He felt the great, dark eyes of the stranger and saw the same dark, cloak-like coat where the stranger sat on the doorstep talking with the mistress of the house. Slowly, guiltily, he turned back, entered the kitchen, and laid the watch stealthily where he had found it; then he rushed wildly back toward the stranger, with arms outstretched.

The convict cowered and slouched toward the barn. As night fell, he looked out and saw the farmer leave. Slowly, he crept out and sneaked toward the house. He looked through the kitchen door. No one was there, but supper was laid out. It looked as if the mistress had set the table and gone out. He ate ravenously. Then he looked into the front room and listened. He could hear quiet voices on the porch. A gold watch lay on the table. He stared at it, and a moment later he was beside it. His hands were on it! He quickly slipped out of the house and slouched toward the field. He saw his employer coming along the road. Terrified, he fled back and around to the front of the house. Then he suddenly stopped. He felt the stranger’s large, dark eyes on him. The stranger sat on the doorstep, talking with the mistress of the house, wearing the same dark, cloak-like coat. Slowly, guiltily, the convict turned back and entered the kitchen. He quietly put the watch back where he had found it. Then he rushed wildly back toward the stranger, his arms outstretched.

The woman had laid supper for her husband, and going down from the house had walked out toward a neighbor's. She was gone but a little while, and when she came back she started to see a dark figure on the doorsteps under the tall, red oak. She thought it was the new Negro until he said in a soft voice:

The woman had set out supper for her husband. Then she left the house and walked toward a neighbor’s home. She was gone only a short while. When she returned, she was startled to see a dark figure on the doorstep under the tall red oak. She thought it was the new Negro until he said in a soft voice:

"Will you give me bread?"

Reassured at the voice of a white man, she answered quickly in her soft, Southern tones:

Reassured by the white man's voice, she quickly answered in her soft Southern tones:

"Why, certainly."

"Why, of course."

She was a little woman, and once had been pretty; but now her face was drawn with work and care. She was nervous and always thinking, wishing, wanting for something. She went in and got him some cornbread and a glass of cool, rich buttermilk; then she came out and sat down beside him. She began, quite unconsciously, to tell him about herself,—the things she had done and had not done and the things she had wished for. She told him of her husband and this new farm they were trying to buy. She said it was hard to get niggers to work. She said they ought all to be in the chain-gang and made to work. Even then some ran away. Only yesterday one had escaped, and another the day before.

She was a small woman who had once been pretty, but work and worry had worn her face. She was nervous and always thinking, wishing, and wanting something. She went inside and brought him some cornbread and a glass of cool, rich buttermilk. Then she came out and sat down beside him. Without realizing it, she began telling him about herself. She told him what she had done, what she had not done, and what she had wished for. She told him about her husband and the new farm they were trying to buy. She said it was hard to get niggers to work. She said they should all be put in the chain gang and made to work. Even then, some ran away. One had escaped just yesterday, and another the day before.

At last she gossiped of her neighbors, how good they were and how bad.

Finally, she gossiped about her neighbors, how good they were and how bad.

"And do you like them all?" asked the stranger.

She hesitated.

"Most of them," she said; and then, looking up into his face and putting her hand into his, as though he were her father, she said:

"Most of them," she said. Then she looked up at his face and put her hand in his, as if he were her father. She said:

"There are none I hate; no, none at all."

"There's no one I hate, no one at all."

He looked away, holding her hand in his, and said dreamily:

He looked away, holding her hand, and said dreamily:

"You love your neighbor as yourself?"

She hesitated.

"I try—" she began, and then looked the way he was looking; down under the hill where lay a little, half-ruined cabin.

"I try," she began, then looked in the same direction he was looking. A small, half-ruined cabin stood below the hill.

"They are niggers," she said briefly.

He looked at her. Suddenly a confusion came over her and she insisted, she knew not why.

He looked at her. Suddenly, she felt confused and insisted, though she didn't know why.

"But they are niggers!"

With a sudden impulse she arose and hurriedly lighted the lamp that stood just within the door, and held it above her head. She saw his dark face and curly hair. She shrieked in angry terror and rushed down the path, and just as she rushed down, the black convict came running up with hands outstretched. They met in mid-path, and before he could stop he had run against her and she fell heavily to earth and lay white and still. Her husband came rushing around the house with a cry and an oath.

On a sudden impulse, she got up and quickly lit the lamp just inside the door. She held it above her head and saw his dark face and curly hair. She screamed in angry terror and ran down the path. Just then, the black convict came running up the path with his hands outstretched. They met midway, and before he could stop, he ran into her. She fell hard to the ground and lay white and still. Her husband came rushing around the house, crying out and cursing.

"I knew it," he said. "It's that runaway nigger." He held the black man struggling to the earth and raised his voice to a yell. Down the highway came the convict guard, with hound and mob and gun. They paused across the fields. The farmer motioned to them.

"I knew it," he said. "It's that runaway nigger." He held the black man down as he struggled and shouted. The convict guard came down the highway with a hound, a mob, and a gun. They stopped across the fields. The farmer waved to them.

"He—attacked—my wife," he gasped.

"He... attacked... my wife," he gasped.

The mob snarled and worked silently. Right to the limb of the red oak they hoisted the struggling, writhing black man, while others lifted the dazed woman. Right and left, as she tottered to the house, she searched for the stranger with a yearning, but the stranger was gone. And she told none of her guests.

The mob snarled and worked silently. They hoisted the struggling, writhing black man up to the red oak’s branch. At the same time, others lifted the dazed woman. As she staggered toward the house, she looked around, longing to see the stranger. But the stranger was gone. And she told none of her guests.

"No—no, I want nothing," she insisted, until they left her, as they thought, asleep. For a time she lay still, listening to the departure of the mob. Then she rose. She shuddered as she heard the creaking of the limb where the body hung. But resolutely she crawled to the window and peered out into the moonlight; she saw the dead man writhe. He stretched his arms out like a cross, looking upward. She gasped and clung to the window sill. Behind the swaying body, and down where the little, half-ruined cabin lay, a single flame flashed up amid the far-off shout and cry of the mob. A fierce joy sobbed up through the terror in her soul and then sank abashed as she watched the flame rise. Suddenly whirling into one great crimson column it shot to the top of the sky and threw great arms athwart the gloom until above the world and behind the roped and swaying form below hung quivering and burning a great crimson cross.

"No, no, I want nothing," she insisted. At last they left her, thinking she was asleep. For a while she lay still, listening as the mob left. Then she rose. She shuddered when she heard the branch creak where the body hung. But she crawled determinedly to the window and looked out into the moonlight. She saw the dead man twist. He stretched his arms out like a cross, looking upward. She gasped and clung to the windowsill. Behind the swaying body, down by the small, half-ruined cabin, a single flame flashed up. The mob shouted and cried in the distance. Fierce joy rose like a sob through the terror in her soul. Then it sank, ashamed, as she watched the flame rise. Suddenly the flame spun into one great crimson column and shot to the top of the sky. It stretched great arms across the darkness. Above the world, behind the roped and swaying body below, a great crimson cross hung trembling and burning.

She hid her dizzy, aching head in an agony of tears, and dared not look, for she knew. Her dry lips moved:

She hid her dizzy, aching head and wept in agony. She did not dare look, because she knew. Her dry lips moved:

"Despised and rejected of men."

"Despised and rejected by people."

She knew, and the very horror of it lifted her dull and shrinking eyelids. There, heaven-tall, earth-wide, hung the stranger on the crimson cross, riven and blood-stained, with thorn-crowned head and pierced hands. She stretched her arms and shrieked.

She knew, and the horror of it made her lift her dull, shrinking eyelids. There hung the stranger on a crimson cross, as tall as heaven and as wide as the earth. His body was torn and bloodstained, his head crowned with thorns and his hands pierced. She stretched out her arms and shrieked.

He did not hear. He did not see. His calm dark eyes, all sorrowful, were fastened on the writhing, twisting body of the thief, and a voice came out of the winds of the night, saying:

He did not hear. He did not see. His calm, dark eyes were full of sorrow as he stared at the thief's writhing, twisting body. A voice came out of the night winds, saying:

"This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise!"

"Today you will be with me in Paradise!"