EMORY UNIVERSITY
I lllllMlim I'M"! I III M"M"M"1 1 Ml 11 M M' 11M 1 1 l"f
"LET MY ^ «ss
«st as PEOPLE GO"
BY
Lillian E. Wood
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"Up, and the dusky race
That sat in darkness long:
Be swift their feet as antelopes,
And as behemoth strong."
1 Mil M 1"!»I"1"M.'!"M"M"M"I"I"1"I"1"I"I"1"!"M"1"M"! 1 ■M-I-
A. M. E. Book Concern Printers,
Rev. D. M. Baxter, Gen. Business Manager.
631 Pine Street, Philadelphia, Pa.
Dedicated
to the
Young People of America
in loving memory
of
Eugenie Louise Hepler
for thirteen years
friend and comrade
of the author.
INTRODUCTION
No story is so compelling as one that has been lived, one
that is really artistic because it is not artificial. "Let My
People Go" is a human story taken right out of every day
life on the high levels of romance, love, heroism, loyalty,
courage, and service. The plot, (a fascinating one and
thoroughly original too) is an actual story of life with
all its puzzling and baffling situations. This story is not
inspired by the demand of the public for something read¬
able, but is caught full handed from the dynamic life cur¬
rent that is ever present but known and felt only by those
who have the proper touch. This the author of "Let My
People Go" had.
Have you ever hid and watched for the romance of the
child when the child was unconscious of being observed.
If you have then you.know the secret of this story's power.
The author was not a professional investigator, not one who
was regarded as from the outside but one whose presence
was free from suspicion. She had the point of advantage for
observation coming from twenty years of contact as teach¬
er, friend, and confidant. To a remarkable degree she won
the confidence of the people among whom she worked and
thus caught the story not as it was staged for the "movies"
but from life with all its natural and easy settings.
Here is patriotism tested by every insidious method from
without, and tried by discrimination and segregation within.
Here is a love story in which hero 'and heroine are dominat¬
ed by the unselfish motive of service. The mob sense is
not overdrawn. Mob rule threatens the foundations of the
American government. It has already made a sympathetic
atmosphere for the growth of bolshevism in the "land of the
free." Captain McComb and Captain Ridgeway are living
figures. Many a white man has rebuffed a Negro only to
find the same Negro his friend in an hour of trouble.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
7
I was a guest recently on a farm of 2600 acres owned by
a. Negro. This farm was at one time owned by my host's
master, in the days of slavery. The master lost all he had
following the war. His former slave (now my host) prosper¬
ed and grew rich. The master died, leaving his wife in want.
This former slave, now a prosperous farmer, cared for
his former master's wife, providing for her every want, and
in the end laid her to rest in a manner that in no way
suggested her poverty. No story in American life is more
thrilling than an uncolored recital of the forgiving spirit
of the American Negro. Nor is the picture of Helen's escape
overdrawn—the Negro woman must fight for life and she
does fight and victories won over "the flesh and the
<devil" are most inspiring. Here is a triumph of virtue and
noble womanhood touchingly related.
This story finds its climax in the most insistent note in
the life of the Negro. That note was struck by Lincoln
while the Negro was yet a slave when he said: "No man
is g-ood enough to control another man without the other
man's consent." The Negro insists on being heard. He
does not desire to be heard by proxy—but he would speak
in person for himself. The author of "Let My People Go"
tells truly how this singing race, this race of "Steal Away to
Jesus" insists on a man's place among men. Some day
Captain McComb will take a seat in the Congress, and from
that pedestal this world will hear the pleading of a roman¬
tic, singing and loyal race, but a race seff-conscious, de¬
manding all the rights and privileges guaranteed by the
Constitution to a citizen of America.
ROBERT E. JONES,
Bishop of the Methodist
Episcopal Church.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
9
CHAPTER I.
BOB
"There was a child went forth."
Back he rushed into the cabin, sobbing n.s if his little
heart would break. He wore a much-patched pair of
breeches and a shirt that had been blue early in the
morning but would now pass for black. The shirt, too.
was patched. His little bare feet were whitened with dust.
By his hands you could not tell his race, either, but his
black face left no doubt in your mind of his African descent.
His features were regular and handsome, and his eyes with
their depths of power and intelligence shone like stars.
Evidently six-year-old Bob was in trouble.
"Muzzer, he—he—he said—little niggers—no—no—right
to put letters in the box!" sobbed Bob.
A tall, strong, dark woman turned quickly as the child
stumbled into the room with his message of woe. She left
her ironing-board and clasped her baby boy in her arms,
taking from his little hand the letter. With a quick an¬
swering sob, she cried to the Father of all:
"O God! At last it has come and he knows! Why should
we have to suffer so? God help me and help him, too, my
own dear child!"
The boy heard and forever remembered.
The mother was an intelligent woman, with a fair educa¬
tion. She might have been a teacher of her people, but she
had chosen to cast her lot with George McComb for better
•or for worse. And worse it had proved; for George had
taken sick soon after the marriage, and, notwithstanding
the utmost care on her part, had succumbed to disease and
had left her a widow. Then little Bob had come. He had
10
LET MY PEOPLE GO
been her all from the first of his little life, and for him she
had toiled gladly.
Rising to her duty now, though heartsick and weary, she
gave Bob his first lesson in sociology.
"Bobby, you know Muzzer loves you so much more than
all the world besides! That is better to Bob than all, isn't
it?"
Little Bob clung to her with both hands, laid his chubby
cheek on her breast, and stopped crying.. That proposition
needed no demonstration.
"And, Bobby, some boys are black and some 'are white,—
but no white child could ever take the place of my Bobby/*"
Bob smiled and patted her cheek.
"We are Negroes, little Bob, you an I and lots of people..
People who are not as we are sometimes do not treat us
well, and there are some things they say we must not do,—
just because we are Negroes. Now we mustn't blame them,
but be somebodies and show them, so they will be ashamed:
that they thought so little of us."
Bob didn't understand the last so well, but he laughed
and patted his mother's cheek 'again and then planted a.
smacking kiss right on the end of her nose.
"Now, Bob, take the letter to the box. Muzzer'll stand
at the door and watch."
Bob scrambled down with the letter and walked sturdily^
to the box; he tiptoed and squeezed it in. The white boys-
were gone, and the little fellow was not disturbed. Then
'he turned, waved his hand to his mother, showed a row
of pearly white teeth, and r'an and sat down under the old
elm, forgetting the episode of the letter. It was forgotten
for a short time only, however, for the first tussle with the
unfriendly world was brought to mind vividly many times,
in after years when he had to meet some outburst from the
opposing forces.
Many were the lessons following that first one given by
that mother to her son. Then came a time when Bob had.
the chance of putting the lesson into practice.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
11
He was fourteen years old before he saw much of the
"world. His mother kept him in school until he had almost
completed the high-school course. Bob worked nights and
mornings and helped. He asked to be allowed to quit school
so that his mother should not have to work so hard, but
she would never consent.
"All right, Mother," Bob had said, "but some day I'll be
Tich and build you a house."
And his mother smiled happily.
Then came the great sorrow of Bob's life. His mother
died suddenly when Bob had just reached his fourteenth
birthday. After the first great shock, came the lonely, de¬
serted feeling, and then—peace; for she seemed so very
near him still, and the Christ of whom she had taught him
was near too, and he was happy. How could he help being-
happy ? All the world was his, and Heaven, too.
Bob started out into the world alone, carrying a bundle
of clothes in which was a small picture of his mother. He
had made up his mind to walk to his aunt's. This aunt was
the one to whom was addressed that letter that had
been the means of initiating him into life's trials.
Bob was tired, and his heart became heavy. God and
mother seemed farther away. He missed Mother so. It
was fifty miles to his destination. He had written to his
aunt after the funeral, telling her he was coming but had
never seen her.
The first day he sat down at noon to rest on the bank
of a river and to eat a part of his lunch. Some white boys
came up to bathe in the r-iver. Many were the taunts thrown
•out to Bob. He answered pleasantly at first; then he was
silent. It was no use to try to be friendly. The boys
splashed around in the water for a while, then they began
to throw water on Bob, calling him names.
He started to go on, but just then he heard a shrill scream
He turned in time to see one of the boys sinking and the
rest making for the shore with all possible haste. Bob
pulled off his shoes and sprang into the water, swam to the
12
LET MY PEOPLE GO
boy as he came to the surface, grasped him by the hair,,
and pulled him to the shore. Then he lay down nearly ex¬
hausted, while the boys gathered around their comrade,,
who soon revived.
The boys quickly dressed and were off, not even looking
at Bob.
He lay there until his clothes were dry; then he pulled
on his shoes and trudged on. He wanted his mother so!
By evening he reached a neat farmhouse. He was sorry
to find that none of his people lived in the house, so he
crept through the fence and lay down by the side of a stack,
of hay. He forgot to eat any of his lunch, and was soon
fast asleep.
When he awoke the birds were singing gayly and the-
sun was just peeping around the stack. He ate some of his
lunch, gathered up his bundle again, after looking at his-
mother's picture, and started off. He tried to whistle the
same song the bluebird was singing.
Thus he went on from day to day until he had reached,
the town where his aunt had lived. He inquired and found
that she had moved away. No one knew where she had
gone.
Bob's bright, intelligent face soon won him friends, and
he was employed as errand boy by Mr. Carson, who kept «l
store in the town. He was allowed to sleep on a cot in the
back of the store. He got his board with an aged woman
who lived near.
Several weeks afterward he lay one night on his cot fast
asleep. He dreamed of his angel mother—dreamed that
she stood beside him as in the years gone by and her voice
came to him:
"Never mind them, Bobby. Be somebody."
Her dress was white; it glistened and glistened until it
became a bright light, then the light dwindled to one small
point. Bob started up to follow the light, and his eyes
opened wide.
There was a light and it was over by the desk; now it
LET MY PEOPLE GO
13
moved toward the safe. Bob watched the light with fright
in his heart. Just as he had made up his mind to get out
of the store, somehow, and call the police, the light moved
away from the safe and then a face was turned toward
him for an instant. He fell back before he was observed
watching. It was the face of Richard Carson, the proprie¬
tor's son! Bob closed his eyes just as Richard made his
"way steadily towards his pallet. Assured himself that Bob
was asleep, the intruder moved to the door and left the
building.
Bob slept no more that night. He turned the matter oyer
in his mind. If he should tell on Richard, the father would
not believe him. Besides, that would hurt Mr. Carson, and
he had been kind to him. Whatever he did or did not do,
he would be blamed. Should He run away ? No! he would
be a man! Mother said for him to "be somebody." He
would stay and face the situation.
So Bob kept quiet and did his work as usual. All turned
out as he expected. Robbery was discovered—fifty dollars
were missing. Bob was questioned. Refusing to answer,
questions, he was arrested and sent to jail,
he was arrested and sent to jail.
In a few days the trial came. It was soon over. The
money could not be found. Bob was condemned. He said
that he was innocent; but that was all he would say. He
was sentenced to the State's prison. But he kept saying
to himself: "I am somebody, anyhow. Somebody would not
tell and somebody would not run."
It was the night before he was to be taken to the peni¬
tentiary; he was lying in his cell, sleeping fitfully. He
heard the door creak ! He watched steadily and saw the
door pushed open, and then he saw Richard Carson, who
came up to him.
"Bob," he said, "come. I've got a pass, and the guard is
asleep, anyhow. I'll let you out and then you run. I'll tell
you where to go. Come."
Bob was tempted to take Richard's offer; the State's
14
LET MY PEOPLE GO
prison did not seem very attractive, and ten years was a
long time, but his motto, "Be somebody!" came to him
again and he answered, "No! I will not run."
"Bob, do you know who took the money?"
"Yes," replied Bob.
"Are you going to tell, Bob?"
"No," quietly answered Bob.
Richard left as stealthily as he had entered. Bob felt at
peace with himself. He would act a man still. The first
real slumber since that fatal night came to him.
It must have been two o'clock when Bob jumped up sud¬
denly as the door creaked again. This time three masked
men entered. His heart stood still now with fear. He
came very near screaming, but caught himself. What use
would it be? But he had scarcely time even if he had chosen
that way of warning the guard, for his mouth was quickly
gagged. His arms and feet were tied with ropes, and he
Was borne quickly out of his prison, past the sleeping
guard.
Bob's thoughts raced through his brain. The guard had
been drugged! He was going to be lynched! Was it pos¬
sible? Even though these men thought him guilty, why
so severe a punishment? Where is God? What had he
done to deserve such a fate ? Why had God made him a
Negro? Where was his ambition to "be somebody," to do
something great for his people? Had Richard known of
this, and was that the reason he had wanted him to run ?
If he had not tried to be a man, he might have saved him¬
self. Then he prayed for forgiveness for the last thought
—and that first plunge into the world's troubles came into
his mind, and his mother's words: "We musn't feel bad
about it, and we mustn't blame them. Be somebody, and
they will be ashamed." Then Bob thought of Him who
prayed, "Father, forgive them." And Bob said to himself:
"Mother—Christ, I'll try!"
They were entering the wood, passing into the depths of
darkness. Bob every moment expected the men to stop,
LET MY PEOPLE GO
15
but on they went. Then they seemed to strike an obstacle.
He heard a voice. Ah! he knew the voice. One of the men
was Richard! He felt better.
"This is the place, boys. Push the door open! Strike a
light!" said Richard.
As the torch blazed, Bob saw that he was in a cabin, fitted
with table, chair, etc. He also noticed a pile of pro¬
visions. Then he looked wonderingly at Richard. Richard
seeing the look, said:
"All right, old boy, no harm meant. You wouldn't run,
so we ran with you. That's all!"
Then the boys took off their masks, carefully bolted the
door, untied Bob's hands and ungagged him.
"Now, Bob," said Richard, "no need to tell you not to
leave this hut. You'll get no chance to do that—but if you
do get a chance, you'd better not try to escape. There's
plenty to eat, and more'll come when that's gone. You
wait here until I come for you."
Without waiting for a reply, the three boys left the hut.
Bob heard them lock and double lock the door. Then they
went away.
Bob, with a heart full of thankfulness, determined to
make the best of the situation. Anyway, he had surely had
nothing to do with his escape from the State's prison.
The next day Ricetown was in turmoil of excitement.
The Negro, Bob McComb had been lynched. Nobody
knew who the lynchers were, but three masked men had
been seen going toward the prison. The guard could re¬
member nothing. Some pitied poor Bob. In a few days,
however, the incident was almost forgotten.
Richard and his friends were silent and waited. They
intended to liberate Bob and send hi'm away as soon as
there was no fear of discovery.
Meanwhile Bob could do nothing but wait, either. He
ate and slept and thought. He tried every possible way
to break out of the hut, but without success. The days
passed. The food was nearly gone.
16
LET MY PEOPLE GO
On the eleventh day Richard Carson's two friends came
and hurried Bob out of the cabin and to the town. As
they entered, the crowds began to gather until as many as
two hundred persons followed.
"It's Bob McComb! Where'd you get him? Turn him
loose ! Send for the sheriff!" reached Bob's ears.
The supposed fugitive's companions hurried to the house
of the Carsons before any one had time to call the sheriff.
Mr. Carson was on the porch, waiting.
"Go back, in God's name!" he cried to the crowd. "Rich¬
ard's dying. Biob is innocent. Let him alone."
The crowd was dispersed in awe. Then the four entered
Richard's room.
Richard turned his glassy eyes from Bob to his father.
"Bob," gasped he, "forgive me! You needn't tell. I've
told. Father'11 h-e-l-p—Bob:—somebody—my "
And Richard Carson was gone.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
17
CHAPTER II
BOB MAKES GOOD
"For now the lost has found a home."
Bob quietly withdrew and left Mr. and Mrs. Carson with
their dead. He slipped down the stairs and went into the
air. He had been shut up so long in the cabin that his
run through the woods, fields and streets had made him
tired. He sat down on the steps to rest and think.
What should he do now? This was surely a hard world
for a poor Negro boy. He didn't suppose Mr. Carson would
want him any more; it would be too painful to see him
around. Where to go next he did not know. But poor Rich¬
ard had to die, and he was very much alive! It was good to
live. But mother had to go and leave him alone! He lean¬
ed his head forward into his hands and burst into tears.
Bob was a manly fellow and rarely gave way like this,
but he had been through a great nervous strain, so he could
see nothing ahead which he cared to live for. He was sorry
about Richard, sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Carson, who had
lost their only child—but just now his own bitterness was
overwhelming him. Where was he to go, and what was he
to do ?
"Bob, my boy, don't worry. We do not blame you in the
least. We are grateful to you and feel that we can never
repay you for shielding our erring child. You have been
faithful, lad," said a kind voice, which Bob recognized as
that of Mr. Carson. Instantly he looked up, brushing the
tears away with the back of his hand.
"Mr. Carson, I'm sorry for you. Is there anything I can
do to help?" Bob asked.
18
LET MY PEOPLE GO
"No, my lad, not now. At least nothing except to come
and have some supper and then go to bed. You are to stay-
here, Bob, if you will."
"O Mr. Carson, with you?" asked Bob breathlessly;
"Yes, Wife and I have talked it over. We feel that we
owe you a home and a chance in life; and we want you,
too. What do you say, Bob?"
"Say! O Mr. Carson! Of course I'll stay." cried Bob.
"You'll have to take Richard's place, Biob, you see."
"Mr. Carson, I'll do my best. Thank you."
So Bob stayed with the Carsons. They gave him a beau-
tiul room and treated him well. He helped in the store,
swept and dusted and kept up the fires in the furnaces of
store and home. He also waited on customers. Soon every
body in the village learned to know and respect him.
He had few associates of his own people; perhaps that
is the reason that he was different from others and liked
to wander off alone when his work was done. He used to
put his thoughts into words, which he spoke aloud as if
addressing a large audience. He sometimes tried to make
his words into rhyme and speak poetry to the birds as he
sat in the grove and to the little fishes as he lay on the bank
of the river. The few colored people of the village let him
alone for the most part. They did not understand him and
Bob cared little for them. He was, perhaps, a bit selfish in
those days. Perhaps he should not have kept to himself so
much; but Bob's conscience did not trouble him about that.
The boys were rough, and he did not care to be with them.
He did like to talk to old Mr. and Mrs. Simpson—"Uncle
Job" and "Aunt Martha," as he called them. He often went
to their little cottage and told them of his plans, ,and ate
soime of Aunt Martha's cooking.
"Lawd, chile," said Aunt Martha to him one day. "You're
that smart! You ort to go to college, Bob."
"That's just what I want to do, Aunt Martha. Perhaps I
shall some day." returned Bob dreamily.
Aunt Martha had a grand-daughter living with her; "lit-
LET MY PEOPXE GO
19
tie Martha," everybody called her still, though now she was
a tall lass of fifteen. She was the child of an only daughter
who had died at the time Bolb had come into the village
and found himself utterly alone in the world.
The very day Aunt Martha had told Bob he ought to go
to college, little Martha came in, crying bitterly.
"Little Martha, little Martha! What is it?" exclaimed
Aunt Martha.
Little Martha did not answer, but threw herself down on
the old-fashioned lounge and sobbed as if her heart would
break.
"Honey chile, tell Grandma. Here, rest yo' hat. Now,
tell Grandma!" coaxed the old woman.
"I can't go back there to work any more!" sobbed little
Martha. "That man—oh—oh—oh—oh !"
"Bob, go now and come back some other day," said Aunt
Martha, as she pushed him gently from the room.
"Aunt Martha, I'll kill him!" exclaimed Bob, clenching
his hands, while his eyes flashed fire.
"No! No! little Bob, never mind. We can't do anything
because we are Negroes. I'll never let her go out to work
any more, if I have to work my old hands off at the wash-
tub !" cried Aunt Martha, throwing her apron over her head
and bursting into tears.
Bob pulled off the apron and softly wiped the tears from
her wrinkled face.
"Bob," said she quietly. "When you grow up and know
lots you're gonter learn at college, you make some things
right and do somethin' to help the girls. Won't you, Bob?"
"I will! I surely will !" exclaimed Bob. "God 'help me."
Bob walked rapidly home, his very soul on fire. What
was he so idle for, taking his ease, and his people—his sis¬
ters suffering wrongs such as that? A new vision of the
enormity of the injuries inflicted upon his people was dawn¬
ing upon him. However what could he—a mere boy—do?
Bob stopped on the corner from which branched the
street of Martha's employer. He stood there at least ten
20
LET MY PEOPLE GO
minutes, and then started down toward the hated house.
He walked rapidly and blindly, so much so that he did not
notice a stone in his path, and before he knew it he tripped
and went sprawling to the sidewalk. !He sat up quickly
and just as quickly a passage of Scripture flashed through
'his mind. It was this: "Vengeance is mine; I will repay,
saith the Lord."
"All right, Lord," said Bob, aloud. "You've stopped me
and you've said you'd see to it. It's too much for me, I
guess, anyhow." And he got up slowly and limped back
toward Mr. Carson's house. ffl
As he went up the steps he noticed a stranger sitting
upon the veranda with Mr. Carson.
"So this is your boy Bob?" queried the stranger.
"Yes," answered Mr. Carson. "Come here, Bob, and meet
Mr. Brown."
"How do you do, Bob?" said the gentleman, rising.
Bob stepped forward and took off his hat.
"A good face, friend Carson. And this is the boy who
would rather die than betray your Richard! I see. Bob, it's
a hard thing to .be a Negro, but I'd give a million dollars
for the chance!" said Mr. Brown earnestly.
Bob looked at him in wonder. Surely he did not know
what he knew already of a Negro's life. What terrible
things he had yet to learn he did not know, but that after¬
noon's revelation had made his heart sink within him at
the fate of his race.
"You look doubtful, Bob. Sit down. I want to talk to
you," said Mr. Brown. "I'd just like to tackle a job like
yours. I know things are topsy-turvy. Your people are
looked down upon—spurned from the sidewalks in some
parts of the world. They are appointed and confessed
servants of the whites. Every man's hand is against them.
You have a tough job—a hard job. You must help them
out of this. You're not the man to want an easy job. I'd
like to see what Lcould do to bring light out of the dark-
LET MY PEOPLE GO
21
ness, to make the crooked places straight—to help Him re¬
deem a race from the oppressor! Do you understand, Bob?"
Bob's eyes flashed with intelligence, and he answered:
Yes, sir, I do—at least, partly. Thank you, Mr. Brown.
I should like—"
Here Bob stopped, for he thought, if he finished his sen¬
tence, he might seem to be asking help of Mr. Carson to get
more education.
"I am going to send Bob to school, Mr. Brown,, next fall.
I do need him here, but I can not be so selfish as to keep
him and hinder him getting an education. I've never told
him, intending to surprise him, but something in his face
made me tell. Like to go, Bob?" Mr. Carson asked.
Bob started up. He wanted to cheer, but he checked
himself, exclaiming instead:
;'Oh! Mr. Carson, indeed I should! That is glorious news T
How can you ever be repaid for your interest in a poor
boy?"
"Never mind that, Bob. You have deserved all I can ever
do," was Mr. Carson's reply.
Bob shook his head and was about to answer when Mr..
Carson reached forward and grasped his hand, while tears-,
rolled down his cheeks. Bob was silent, for he knew his.
benefactor was thinking of Richard; then he at length fer¬
vently declared:
"I will not disappoint you, Mr. Carson—or you, Mr;
Brown—and God, helping me, I will not fail my people."
22
LET MY PEOPLE GO
CHAPTER III.
BOB GOES TO SCHOOL
"Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of Thought!"
The train pulled out of the country town to the far-away
city, carrying the happiest boy of the Negro race. Bob
could hardly believe his good fortune. The last few weeks
had been passed as in a dream. Alone in his room, he had
often taken out his mother's picture and gazed at it for a
long time, after which he had performed an Indian dance,
moving around and around in happy abandon.
Mr. Carson had arranged everything, and Mrs. Carson had
helped pack the boy's things in a new trunk. At the last she
and Bob had both cried,— she for the dead boy, and he be¬
cause he was leaving the only friends he had and the only
home he knew.
He went to see Aunt Martha many times during the last
few days. Little Martha was helping her grandmother
with her washing. Her face was averted and sad; she was
not at all like her cheerful little self. Bob's very blood
boiled when he looked at her; and every time he went
home from the cabin he threw himself down by the win¬
dow of his little room and looked up to heaven's blue and
prayed that the God of his mother would give power to
him and others some day to right the wrongs of his people.
After he was on the train bound for school, however, he
forgot for the time being his own and the world's troubles;
the blood danced in his veins, and his eyes sparkled. There
were a number of young men and young girls on their way
to the same school. The little apartment assigned to the
race was very warm, although every window was open.
It was crowded to its utmost capacity. The cinders came
LET MY PEOPLE GO
23
in at the open window. They fairly poured in. Bob, never¬
theless, was unspeakably happy until something happened
to upset his gayety and start rebellious thoughts, followed
by fierce resolves and quick prayers.
The train had stopped at a little station. Some had got
off, and some had entered the car. Bob was not noticing the
people around him at all until he saw a great, burly, greasy,
unclean, ill-smelling white man plump himself down beside
a daintily dressed young girl,—evidently a college girl. The
girl shrank from him into the corner of the seat as far as
she could. The man looked at her with a leer and lurched
toward her. He was drunk.
Bob arose quickly, leaned over, and spoke to the young
girl in a low voice. She arose and gratefully followed him
to the other end of the car, where Bob asked another young
man to give her his seat, directing him to the seat which
he had vacated near the drunk fellow. He was then about
to follow when the young lady held out her hand.
"Let me thank you," she murmured in a quiet, sweet
voice.
"That's all right," said Bob awkwardly. He wasn't used
to the society of women and always felt at his worst in
their presence.
"My name's Helen Adams," she said "and I'm on my way
to school. Your name is—?
"McComb, commonly called 'Bob'," answered he, laugh¬
ing. He was beginning to feel at his ease. She was charm¬
ing. "I'm on my way to school, too. I'm having the time
of my life."
"Going to stay in Arrick Hall?" asked Miss Adams.
"What is that?" asked Bod.
"Oh, that is the boy's dormitory," was the answer.
"Didn't know its name. I suppose so."
"There's another," she ventured. "Everybody likes Ar¬
rick better. It's new, you see. You are early and you may
have your choice. The other is Howard Hall."
"Thank you, Miss Adams, for your information. You've
24
LET MY PEOPLE GO
been there before, I see. Tell me all you know—or more
of it, the part that might help me out. I'm a greeny. I
suppose they'll pin a green ribbon on me as I've heard
they do on newcomers,—but they needn't take the trouble,
lt'ii show without that," laughed Bob. Then: "Have you
come far?" This is not a pleasant place to be in long."
"I've been on this train two days and a night," answered
she. "Yes, I'm tired, but I feel that I should not complain if
Miss Jackson doesn't. She's over there,—the lady asleep.
She's our science teacher. She's fine, too, Mr. McComb.
Isn't she handsome? All the students love her. We have
some white teachers, too. But you'll know all about it
soon."
Thus Bob and Helen chatted the time away, Bob leaning
on the arm of the seat. In a very short while, it seemed to
Bob, the train pulled into the station of the city.
All was bustle and excitement. Helen was carried off
bodily by a bevy of girls, and Bob and one of the boys went
to the dormitory together, after seeing to their trunks.
James Core was new, too, and he and Bob decided to stick
together, if possible, and see each other through these
strange new times ahead. The two were assigned to the
same room, for the matron, a large good natured white
woman, judged that they were friends because they came
together. The room assigned to them was a pleasant one,
overlooking the campus at the front.
James proved to be a jolly fellow who always managed to
see a joke in everything. It was a good thing for Bob to
have such a friend. That was just what he needed. His life
had been spent too much alone. He hardly knew people
and would often have misjudged them, if it had not been for
the ludicrous side of the situation as translated by James
who never worried and believed that everything would come
out right without his help.
"Bob," 'he said one evening, "this world will go without
your boosting it."
"Don't know about that, Jim," answered Bob with a
LET MY PEOPLE GO
25
laugh, "anyhow, it must go faster! If I just had a standing
place, I believe I could give it a push and whirl it along
more rapidly."
Then the friends struck up, "Roll the old chariot along."
A gentle knock at the door was followed by the request,
"Less noise, please."
"O Miss Ranier, come here and hold this youngster! He's
going to jump off the world. He has an idea that he
could make it go some if he'd get outside with a pole."
"Jim," Bob whispered anxiously, "do be still."
Miss Ranier came in smiling. She looked at Bob, and his
eyes met hers with a look Bob always remembered. It
seemed that they looked into each other's souls and found
out that they were the dearest of kin. From that time
forward the friendship was firm and true. She held him
to her soul, and he was her own .
"Bob can do it," said she.
Bob could have fallen to her feet,—and he did, in spirit.
She saw the look in the depths of his eyes and understood.
The looks said, "My mother—My son!" What they did was
to clasp hand's for a moment, and she passed to other
rooms.
James rattled away.
"Bob, I've found out about that flame of yours. She's a
senior! No chance for a prep there."
"You mean Helen Adams, I suppose. I knew that already.
Let me alone. I came here to study," answered Bob stif¬
fly.
"There, there, old man; I meant no harm. Say, help me
with this problem, won't you?" pleaded James.
"Sure I will, if you promise to give me peace the rest of
the evening," answered Bob.
Bob saw Helen Adams seldom during the one year she was
in school, as James had prophesied. He called at the girls'
dormitory once or twice on "calling days" and asked for
Helen and they were good friends, but Helen was popular
26
LET MY PEOPLE GO
and Bob was rather shy. He was not afraid of Helen.
Somehow she put him at his ease, but he was embarrassed
by the other girls.
He studied hard, and stood at the head of his class easily.
His best friend was Miss Ranier, preceptress in charge of
the hall on which the roam of the friends was situated.
She was a small white woman with beautiful graying-brown
hair and brown eyes. The relation between the two was
one of the sweetest, experiences in the lives of both. Miss
Ranier was strengthened by the friendship of the dark,
handsome boy to spend all her energies more gladly for the
race she loved so well and which had produced the boy.
There were other of her boys, too. Miss Ranier loved the
boys and girls as though they were her own.
"Miss Ranier," said Bob one day as he stopped in the
loved class-room "do you think I ought to be a preacher?"
"My dear boy." said his teacher, "you and the Master for
that, though I know friends do have something to do with
the calling. What do you think?"
"Sometimes I wonder if I ought,—and then I think I
might help my people more as a lawyer. There are too
man}' preachers,—poor preachers," answered Bob.
"Too many poor ones; yes, Bob, but my boy couldn't do
anything poorly, proudly answered Miss Ranier.
Bob often wondered why the teachers were so different.
"After all," he thought, "the fault must be with me,—for
surely they are all kind. Now there's Dean Williams,—he's
good as ever I saw, and he's a white man who has made a
sacrifice to be here, but he says nothing about it. And there's
Miss Smith who has come so far to do us good. She does'nt
do me any good. She doesn't like Negroes, for all her talk.
People are a great deal alike," he thought, "the race
doesn't make the difference. I like people, and I forget what
color they are. Miss Myers wants to go into society.
She's gay, and one can't blame her,—but she'd better have
stayed North, too; these Southern people don't care for her
society because she is living with us. If all the teachers
LET MY PEOPLE GO
2 7
were like Miss Ranier, Miss Jackson, and the Dean, what
an inspiration would come to all of us! I'm glad I got to
come to college anyway, and I'm going to do something
for the world for Mother's sake, and then there's Mr. Car¬
son and Mrs. Carson! And there's Helen—Pshaw!— non¬
sense ! I think I'd better stop this foolishness and get my
lessons."
And Bob assembled all his mental resources and concen¬
trated them upon his work.
28
LET MY PEOPLE GO
CHAPTER IV
BOB'S CALL TO SERVICE
"A voice cried through the startled air: "Excelsior!"
It was on the eve of commencement. The campus was
glad with visitors, and a merry laugh rang out. Groups of
gay young colored people were moving about the grounds
or were gathered in groups here and there, engaged in con¬
versation. Anon a couple strayed off to sit in seclusion
under the shade of a distant tree. No doubt that during that
afternoon many future homes were planned and long since
hopes stirring those young hearts have been realized.
Bob was not with the merry groups, neither was he sit¬
ting with a sweatheart under the shade of a distant tree.
He still liked best to be alone. On vacation days he had
often wandered off and sat for hours on the side of a hill or
upon the bank of a river, doing nothing but dream and com¬
pose poetry.
This was his last week in school. It was the end of his
fifth year in college. The boys had never uderstood Bob
very well. He dressed very economically, though he always
seemed to have money whenever he needed it. The money
for his board and tuition came regularly. He didn't talk to
any of his mates regarding his private affairs, but it was
intimated that he was kept in school by a wealthy white
man for whom he had done some service and who, for the
sake of that service and in the name of his dead son, kept
Bob in college.
This afternoon Bob sat in his room alone. Dear old room!
Here he had spent five happy years. How good Mr. Carson
had been to him. But Mr. Carson loved him! Some time
and in some way he would pay him. But Mr. Carson said he
LET MY PEOPLE GO
29
had been paid. How could that be? Yes, Bob had worked
hard. Every year he had stood at the head of his class. Mr.
Carson said he was proud of him. He was glad of that
Yes! he would make good.
He drew a letter from his pocket and read it for the tenth
time. His eyes shone, a smile played around his mouth, and
his dark, handsome face glowed with happiness.
This is the letter:
1256 South Street
New York City, N. Y.
Professor Jones:
Your letter received. Thank you for answering ours
promptly. With your recommendation we shall be glad to
give Robert McComb a position in our counting room. If
he proves to 'be all you affirm, and no doubt he will, his
advancement is assured. We expect him at his at his earli¬
est convenience.
Respectfully
Crabbe & Crabbe
Bob's way was opening gloriously. He put the letter
back. Yes, he was going to New York,—he would get rich
and live in a fine house some day! As he put his hand into
his pocket with the letter he drew out the little picture of
his mother. "Yes, Mother," he said to the little picture: "I
am going to be somebody as you told me to be." Then he
gazed at the portrait. Somehow, there was something the
matter.
"I wonder if Mother would be pleased. I wonder if I
ought to go to the city ad have a good time and make
money. What is life for, anyway? So many boys and girls
need somebody to show them what to do. They are not
much better than heathen, and they have so little chance."
He had, had a good chance. Shouldn't he pass it on
"They know not that they know not, so they are happy,"
mused Bob.
30
LET MY PEOPLE GO
"They know not they know not; pity them," he quoted.
He thought of a little quadroon girl of his home town,
the littlest Martha, of his poor friend, little Martha and of
his old friend, Aunt Martha. He remembered how he had
wiped the tears from Aunt Martha's eyes at the cabin
door. Then before his mind's eye passed troops of almost
naked children, crowds of ragged young men,—he could
almost hear their loud talk and oaths. They were rushing
headlong,—where ?
As if in answer to his question, a yell was heard, follow¬
ed by another and another. Horrors! What was it? Bob
flew to the window. He could see far over the city, but he
did not have to look far. Coming down the street near the
saimpus was a crowd of men and boys, yelling, hooting,
making the air hideous with their screams. The college
boys were running into the street, and the girls were com¬
ing back to the buildings, with frightened faces. Bob was
curious and stood watching. He was glad he was in his
room; he didn't like a crowd.
Suddenly he wheeled. As usual that "Be somebody", the
motto his dead mother had given him,—spurred him to take
action. He would go and see, like the rest of the boys.
Bob went down the steps and down the walk to the gate
of the campus. He joined his comrades in front of the gate
just as the men thronged past. They were an excited
mob. The boys could not tell what was the matter.
"Down with the Niggers! Hang them! Burn them!
Drive them out of town!"
These remarks, sprinkled with oaths, rent the air as they
passed. At first the passersby did not notice the group of
boys,—they were hurrying past them so rapidly.
All at once one turned and saw them.
"There are the educated Niggers! There they are!" he
cried.
One of the boys, standing near Bob, picked up a stone
and aimed it at the passing crowd. Bob saw and quickly
LET MY PEOPLE GO
31
stepped up, took the stone from him and pushed him
back.
" Don't, Alum," he said, quietly. Alum turned upon him
angrily and gave him a blow that sent him reeling back¬
ward. Some boys stepped between the disputants, and two
of them caught Alum and held him.
"I beg your pardon, McComb," said Alum. "I am afraid
this ugly temper of mine will get the best of me some day."
"Let's follow," said several.
"Don't mind thfem, boys," urged Bob.
"Ah! Come on," said Alum, starting down the street.
The other boys followed. Bob hesitated at first, then
started with the rest.
Just as the boys reached the corner of Seventh Street and
College Street, about fifty Negroes came down Seventh on
the run. Bob and two other boys held the boys back by
force of will and muscle. The Negroes were desperate!
They ■ were armed with pistols, clubs, and other weapons.
They met the whites with angry yells. Several shots rang
through the air! Just then a troop of mounted police gal¬
loped into the crowd, ordering the people to scatter. The
police aimed pistols at the mob! At this sign of authority
of the law, the crowd melted away. No arrests were made
then. It was impossible to identify either the leaders or the
persons who had fired the shots.
As the crowd cleared, two forms were seen lying in the
street—a Negro and a white man. Soon an ambulance
came and took the bodies away.
The boys saw all this from a safe distance. Alum and some
of the more violent,ones were awed by the sight; some of
the more timid ones were unnerved. They all turned and
walked back to the college.
"There'll be more trouble from this," said Wilkins.
"I'm going to stay inside the campus till next Thursday
morning and then hike across lots to the depot," laughed
Morton.
"Pity some people don't know enough to behave them¬
selves," said Jones.
32
LET MY PEOPLE GO
"Better give us our rights like other folks," said Alum.
Bob said quietly:
"I've always found, as Jones intimated, that people who
behave themselves don't often get into trouble. As to our
rights, I guess we have more'n we'd have in most countries.
And we must have the rest, and we must fight for them;
but I don't think that is the way."
"I, for my part, am as good as anybody, and I believe in
taking our rights" said Alum.
"Look here, boys," answered Bob. "We are as good as
other people. I'm not denying that. The trouble is that
they don't know us,and they judge us all by that gang on
Seventh street. Let's be patient and show them we do
amount to something. Then we will be recognized as men."
Just as they came to the college gate, an automobile
stopped. Bob ran joyfully forward.
"Mr. Carson!" he exclaimed. "I'm so glad to see you!"
"Yes, I had to come to see you graduate, you know."
said Mr. Carson.
Bob introduced his friends with pride to the tall stately
gentleman.
"I'll be around at the Grand, Bob; will see you to-mor¬
row," called out Mr. Carson as the auto honked down the
street.
"Whee! Bob, so that's your friend!" exclaimed the boys.
"Yes," returned Bob. "I'd do anything for that man!"
"If all the white folks were like him," said Alum, "we'd
get along all right."
"Yes, and if all the colored folks were like Prof. Jones, the
world would be better off," retorted Bob.
By this time the boys had reached the college-grounds
and had all they could do for the next half-hour in report¬
ing what they had seen of the riot.
Bob went to his room, to be alone. Dear old Mr. Car¬
son : How fine of him to come! Those senseless people!
What will they come to ? Bob was said to be visionary, and
LET MY PEOPLE GO
33
as he sat by the window, picture after picture passed before
him. He seemed to see far away to the South. The masses
of his people were toiling in ignorance and sin, elbowing'
one another in the back alleys of the cities, carousing, fight
ing, blaspheming. He thought of what he had seen that
day. A voice seemed to come to him,—it was so real that
he returned instinctively to hear:
"My people perish for the lack of knowledge!"
Unconsciously his hand sought his pocket and he drew
out that letter from New York. He looked at it doubtfully.
"I don't know," said he to himself. "That doesn't seem
like what I ought to do. It wouldn't be helping my people
up much. But I'd be making money, and money is neces¬
sary. What could I do with a gang as that on Seventh St.,
or with those ridiculously ignorant masses?"
He sat there for two hours trying to convince hfanself
that the way that was opening was the one for him.
Then he heard excited voices in the hall:
"There'll be trouble down there! They say they're going
to blow up the sheriff's residence with dynamite!"
He sprang to his feet.
"The Grand! Mr. Carson!" was his thought.
He rushed out into the hall and joined the crowd of boys.
►Some of them had gone down to the Negro section of the
city. They said people were stirred up. Some Negroes
had been arrested,—no white people.
Bob made out that much, then went back to his room.
The sheriff's residence was next to the Grand. He must
warn Mr. Carson! But he did not want any of the fellows
along. He must go alone.
The crowd of boys moved on. Then Bob quietly left his
room and the building. He made his way swiftly down
College Street, up Seventh, and past the scene of the after¬
noon's riot. On he went toward the center of the city. As
he turned on Main he heard a rush of hurrying feet. O God!
They were coming! There were nearly a thousand of them,
so it seemed to Bob. Afterward he found out that the crowd
34
LET MY PEOPLE GO
numbered as many as eight hundred men and women. The
crowd was yelling, blaspheming, threatening. It was surg¬
ing down Main Street. There the police come! They
fire! They use clubs! The people rush on,—nothing can
stop them now! The police are hurled backward, they are
powerless before that infuriated mob!
Bob shuddered. He was not afraid, but he was ashamed
of his people. With a quick prayer, he mounted a store-box
that the mob must pass.
"Stop! Stop!" he shouted as the van reached him. Then
he began in full clear tones to talk to the leaders. One
stopped out of curiosity, then an other, then others, until
the street was blocked.
When the people saw his lithe figure mounted on the
box, most of them began to jeer. Angry demands for them
to move ahead came from the rear. Bob continued to speak.
"Hear the kid! What does he mean stoppin' this army of
vengeance!" they shouted. Then anger at Bob gave way to
mirth. Howdy! Howdy! Honey, go home to yo mamy!"
sang one.
Bob paid no attention, but continued to address the peo¬
ple who formed a writhing mass of humanity before him.
Bob was a natural orator, and that night inspiration came
to him from heaven, and he not only quieted that mob but
actually dispersed them in order to their homes, while they
promised to let the law take its course. He can not tell
you to this day how he did it, only that God used him that
night to sway that wicked mob to quietness and to the
appearance of peace.
He walked 'back to the college. The Grand was safe for
that night, so was the sheriff's residence. He would not
disturb Mr. Carson now.
About two squares from the college he passed a little
church. They were having service. Bob wondered why
there was service to-night when the town was in such an
uproar. He stopped in the corner and listened. It seemed
to be a women's meeting. They had evidently met to pray
LET MY PEOPLE GO
35
about the trouble. He wondered if that had not had some¬
thing to do with the strange power that had come to him.
A woman was praying. Her shrill, penetrating voice seem¬
ed to rend the very roof of the little church. The rest of the
women were moaning or shouting. The prayer closed.
Then somebody started up a song, and the weird melody,
swinging upward and downward, filled the air with a
strange sweetness for squares around.
"Go down, Moses,
Way down to Egypt's land;
Tell old Pharaoh—
Let my people go."
Instinctively Bob knelt where he was and looked up into
the starry sky.
"O Christ! Must I? Can I?" he cried.
Then he buried his face in his hands as visions of ease,
happiness, and the associations of refinement came to
him.
"I am so little. Can I? he prayed.
"Go down, Moses,
Way down to Egypt's land.
Tell old Pharaoh
Let my people go."
Again he lifted his face and looked upward.
"O, Christ, I will. Show me how. Here am I! Send me!"
With the peace in his heart Bob arose from his knees.
He had been commissioned to help his people,—he knew
not how. As he walked toward the college the sweet strain,
again reached his ears.
"Go down, Moses,
Let my people go!"
36
LET MY PEOPLE GO
CHAPTER V
Professor McComb
"Hope Without an Object Cannot Live."
Bob was hurrying down the street. His dark face was
aglow with light from within. The light came from a
strong, pure soul somewhere. How does the soul of a young
man look, anyway? Is it white; is it sometimes black, or
is there color of the soul? Whatever was the color of the
soul of Bob, that soul was beautiful. It shone out with a
radiance from those eyes of wonderful depth.
Ever since that call for service to his people he had
been in the suburbs of a large city, working for his people in
a small way and looking forward to a time when his field
should be enlarged. There was much to be done! His
race was struggling upward, just beginning to live and to
realize that they were men. He wanted to do much and
he was doing little. Why had he been given a chance for
an education, if it was not that he might be of great service?
Surely there was need. So many of his people were asleep,
just willing to be the off-scouring of the world. But they
must come up, they should. He had been commissioned to
awaken them. Such is the enthusiasm of youth. So the
burdens of a people have rested on young hearts since the
world began, and young men of other races have felt that
the salvation of their people rested on them alone. This is
not conceit, but vision. Without it there would have been
no Luther, no George Washington, no Jesus.
Once Bob had sent an article, carefully written and burn¬
ing with zeal, to a prominent Negro journal; the fiery Du-
Bois had written him a personal letter of encouragement
and had written hiim feel himself one of a great brother-
LET MY PEOPLE GO
37
hood. Bob had lived an isolated life always. The boys
around him, even in college, were different. He thought
swiftly as he walked from school that spring afternoon.
Yes, Jesus was the greatest Servant but He wanted His
people to serve the whole world and their race. Thy were
not made to cringe forever before the whites. They were
men and should have the rights of men, the respect due to
men, and the chance of men.
Just at his point in his rapid thinking, he turned a corner
and came suddenly upon a crowd of men standing before
the window of the largest daily in the city. Bob stopped
with the rest and, peeping over the shoulders of the crowd,
read in the spreading headilne: 'WAR DECLARED
WITH GERMANY!
For a moment Bob forgot everything hut this, "My own
America! Here am I. My life for my country!"
Instinctively he raised his head and shouted:
"The stars and stripes forever ! Down with the Germans !"
A white face was turned toward him and a voice ex¬
claimed.
"Um! You fellows are all goin' to jail, you're not goin' to
war!"
Bob answered not a word, but turned and crossed the
.street. A torrent of wild thoughts surged through his
brain, and in the center of them was the picture which had
heen indelibly stamped,—a dark beautiful woman clasping
a sobbing child of six in her arms, and he heard again the
voice of that mother:
"At last it has come and he knows! Don't mind them,
Honey, Muzzer loves you more then all the world besides
That is better,to Bob than all, isn't it?"
He walked more rapidly, and soon reached his room,
where he threw himself upon his bed to think it out.
"There are twelve millions of my people in America.
One million fighting men. We are Americans! It is all
the country we have. They'd bettef let us fight as Ameri¬
can or " Here Bob's thoughts stumbled to a stand-
38
LET MY PEOPLE GO
still over another picture. It was that of a venerable white
hero and he answered the vision—"Yes, Mr. Carson, to you.
and your race I owe my all. But, Mr. Cars9n, your race
has taught me the value of liberty and democracy. Alas!.
I know* it now. What shall I do ? What I see others have
and enjoy, I want. It is bred in me, if not born in me. I must
fight for my country. I'll join the 'Fighting Tenth'! NoL
They would not take >a raw recruit. The Government will
surely give me a chance. I'll wait patiently."
Bob passed 'a restless night, but toward morning he fell
into adeep sleep from which he awaked much later than,
usual. He arose, still in a thoughtful mood. As it was so
late, he boarded a car to reach his school. The car was.
crowded to its utmost capacity, and he found it necessary to
cling to a strap for support as he swayed with the swaying
car. Entering just before him was a white man whose face-
looked familiar and he recognized him as the man who had
spoken to him so insultingly as they had stood before the
window of the newspaper office. The man walked forward,,
and Bob supported himself by the strap. He supposed the
white man had secured a seat, next moment he heard
a commotion and, looking around quickly, he saw a slender
ladylike girl of his race rise from her seat and almost fall¬
ing reach for an overhanging strap. He bent forward to
assist her until she had steadied herself, and then saw,—the
obnoxious white man had her seat, the whole seat, and the
conductor was moving from the scene back to his position.
"Scoundrel!" exclaimed Bob.
"Put that nigger off," said the man.
"I paid to ride, I will stay," declared Bob with a flash of
the eye.
The white man arose. The bell rang sharply, and the
car came to a standstill. The conductor approached, and
Bob, in order to avoid trouble, prevent a scene, and save
inevitable humiliation, left the car and walked the remain¬
der of the way to school.
"This is America, the land of liberty," he said bitterly.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
39
""Ah! this is not the Negroes' country. We have no country.
They will not let us go to the trenches. Why should I
want to go anyhow ? Why should I give my life for a white
man's country ?"
He entered his schoolroom. His coming was greeted by
a score of little voices and a clapping of little hands, and
bright eyes glowed with welcome. But the teacher could
not be cheered this morning and he groaned in anguished
of spirit:
"My God, how long shall we be a subject race? Oh, to
have a chance to be a man among men! Look at this dingy,
dark room! There are no appliances, and the salary will not
support a man! The women teachers get less !"
Bob was thoroughly discouraged. He had hoped for much,
—hoped to be able to do much. Why was he considered
less than a man? He realized that he had brains, he was
sure he had courage, and God was his God. Why had he so
little chance to work and bring things to pass for his people,
Jor the world, for his country?
The last he said to himself with a groan:
"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
Then he bent his head in prayer to the One who had ut¬
tered those words in His extremity, and in a flash he re¬
membered the words of a white friend of his childhood: "It's
a hard thing to be a Negro, but I'd give,a million dollars for
the chance." And he arose and went at his task gladly.
No sooner had he called his school to order than a form
appeared in the doorway. It was the very person of whom
he had been thinking. He stepped forward with glad¬
ness.
Mr. Brown, I'm so glad to see you. Where did you drop
from? I've just been thinking about you," was his greet¬
ing.
"My boy Bob! How quick you are! I've been trying to
catch you ever since you left the street car. Yes; and you
evaded me yesterday. I have just arrived in the city after
an absence of seven years. Where have you been keeping
40
LET MY PEOPLE GO
yourself all these years? A teacher, I see. That's good,
Bob. So you got the education you wanted! The same
restless spirit, I see. Oh, yes, I heard what you said yes¬
terday. You were too quick for me. I recognized you and
followed; but my old limbs can never go that fast. So you
want to go to war? Good, Bob, that's like the little boy I
knew?" answered Mr. Brown.
"I surely do want to go to war, Mr. Brown,' said Bob.
"This is the opportunity of the race to show its patriotism,
to show its manhood."
"The race has shown those things, B>ob, already. And it
has shown its fighting spirit too, in the Spanish-American
War and in the trouble with Mexico. But I believe I can
help you, my boy. The Secretary of War is a personal
friend of mine."
"Oh, Mr. Brown", Bob exclaimed; "get us a training-
camp. It will mean a great stride upward for the race."
"Yes, Bob, I understand; I'll try," said Mr. Brown.
The visitor stayed for an hour or more, asking ques¬
tions as to Bob's plans. They talked together of what the
war would mean to the race. Bob was anxious to go to
France, having not the least fear that he should not return
to finish his work at home.
When Mr. Brown left, Bob was jubilant. He could face
the whole world now.
He had a friend.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
41
CHAPTER VI
The Emigrants
"Here Is a Story Shall Stir You!"
Reverend Elijah Samson had finished his sermon one
summer day: There had been a shout among the more ex¬
citable ones of the congregation, for Reverend Samson was
one of the powerful preachers in that section of Mississippi.
He was young and had been pastor of that church ever
since he had left the seminary. The secret of his success
was summed up in a favorite saying of his:
"Grit, grace, and gumption will carry a man through,—
white or black."
His grace served him well always, but there came a time
when his grit brought sorrow to himself and his people and
his gumption failed to come to the rescue.
After finishing his "fifthly," Reverend Samson said:
"My brethren, this is a time of progress. The whole
world is moving upward. The great war, they say, is for
Liberty and Democracy. You know in this Southland we
are oppressed, are still the downtrodden race. We are the
servants of another race. We ought to be men and have
the rights of men. We ought to get some of this Liberty
that is so much talked about. It is evident we can not get
it in Mississippi. Now, I have been thinking for some time,
but I have said little. I've been waiting, but I've been work¬
ing quietly too,—some. I've been investigating conditions
North and South, have been writing to representative men
in Northern cities, and as part result of this investigation
I wish to submit to you a proposition and to read in your
hearing a letter which I received from a prominent citizen
of East St. Louis, Illinois.
42
LET MY PEOPLE GO
Rev. Samson:
Learning- that you were inquiring about openings for your
people in the North, I take the liberty to offer my
services. Indeed, I have already found that a large factory
in this place is short of men, and will give^ employment to-
at least three hundred men of your race. If you can send
them, let me know, and I will m'ake the arrangements
necessary. Wages are six dollars per day.
Respectfully,
OSCAR C. SCHREINBURGER.
"My brethren, you have heard the kind gentleman's offer.
Will you notify your friends and neighbors? It looks to me
like a good opening."
Great was the excitement and much the talk after the
service and for many days after in the little town.
"I'm gwine," decided George Washington Jones. "To
the State of Abraham Lincoln for me!"
"Equal rights and Liberty." said Jesse Vardaman.
"The Nawth is like heaven, they tell me." ventured
Abraham Jackson.
"Onliest white friends we have," declared John Mc-
Michels.
"Wliat chu sayin'?" asked Uncle Pete Brown. "Chilluns,.
youse bettah stay in de lan' of cotton. Don' know nothin*
'bout your fact'ry."
The consensus of opinion among the younger people was
that this was a chance to rise in the world, and the love of
adventure and the lure of high wages triumphed with a
large number, and two hundred families announced their
intention of moving to Illinois.
"Poah little lambs," said Reverend Samson. "I'm most
sorry I started the thing. What will they do up there?
So many of them are ignorant, some of them are bad, and
all will be new and strange to them! Mother, I ought to
go along!"
"Do what is right, my son," said his aged mother.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
43
The next Sunday settled the determination of the preach-
er to go to Illinois, for he found that nearly every person of
liis flock was going. The few old people that remained he
could transfer to the other pastor in the town. It was
plainly his duty to go with his people. His wife was eager
to go. She wanted change and excitement, and little
Teddy danced for joy.
The people met and agreed to go together. They were
•delighted when they found the Reverend Samson and his
family were going, and they decided to build their own
•church, as well as the houses needed if they failed to find
•enough homes near together.
"It'll just be the same as bein' at home, only it'll be in
the Nawth. We'll ha'dly know the difference," said Joshua
Appleton.
So, great were the preparations and many were the
joyful anticipations ! among the people. The day they
started it seemed like the whole town was moving. In
fact there were very few Negroes left. An extra passenger
train had to be secured, and a freight train to carry the
furniture. The two hundred heads of families and fifty
grown sons felt confident that they would receive employ¬
ment, and the larger children said they would work in the
factory, too. There were in the company something over
five hundred.
As the passenger train approached, the furniture having
had several hours the start, some one started the song, and
they boarded the train to the tune:
"Swing low, sweet chariot,
Comin' for to carry me home."
In the train there was much hilarity and feasting. The
pastor moved from car to car, speaking peasantly to the
people and trying to calm them. Many of the crowd were
rough and ignorant, and the more refined people held
aloof from the others. The pastor found that he han n
44
LET MY PEOPLE GO
his hands more than he had bargained for; besides, he was
filled with some misgivings as to the wisdom of his course
in starting so vast a movement.
As the train neared the Illinois line, someone struck up:
"Wish I was in de land ob cotton—"
"Shut up yo foo' mouf, won't yo? I sho am mighty glad
I's out ob de lan' ob cotton,—ha'd wuked an' cussed. Aftuh
us when we don' do nuthin'! Get money for pullin' us in I
reckon!" said John McMichels.
This speech stopped the song, and a young girl sitting
near the speaker, said:
"They sho pulled me in, two ob em, jest cause I passed
along aftuh two shuts had been swiped. I nivuh took nuth¬
in'!"
Then some started: "Glory, glory, hallelujah," as they
rolled into Illinois, and they all sang, car after car taking
up the strain until the country folks wondered if the king¬
dom of heaven were coming at once.
As they entered the town which was their destination, the
song had changed to: "My Lord's writin' all the time," and
to the rhythm of that tune they descended from the cars.
In a short time all <the men and, in fact, all the boys wha
were large enough to work secured employment. There
was apparently a shortage of labor in the city, because so
many men had either already gone to fight in the great war
for Democracy or were in the camps.
By luck, they secured a number of cabins, some of which
had been built by the company expecting them. Others
were erected hastily by those workmen who understood
something of carpentry. There was a tenement house
which afforded homes for a large number of families. So-
it happened that all were soon made fairly comfortable, for
the summer, at least.
They all joined to build the church and parsonage. After
working hours in the factory the men gathered and worked
LET MY PEOPLE GO
45
an hour each day until the buildings were completed. Even
the women and children helped some. They were in a few
weeks, ready for service in their own church. This called
for no little effort on the part of the pastor, but the people
responded with money and labor so gladly that it was a
real pleasure to him.
The pastor, his wife, his little son, and his aged mother
were soon living peacefully and happily in the cottage
adjoining the church. The emigrants had their religious
services, social gatherings, and quarrels among themselves,
and of the people of their own race in the city or of the
whites they knew little.
One enterprising man started to build a store-room,
thinking he might make more money selling groceries and
dry-goods than by working in the factory.
About two months after the emigrant train came into
the city, John McMichels came home badly hurt.
"Lawd d'massy, Jack, what's the matter?" exclaimed
Mrs. McMichels.
"Wish I was back in de South, wom'an. Confounded
white man—he's the niggah, I ain't—pitched into me down
thah at the sto. He needs killin', an' I told him so!"
"Jack! Jack! you told him so!" cried his wife. "Now
what'll come of us ? Oh, deah, deah !"
Get the ahnicky bottle, Molly, and don' cry, Honey. I'm
all right and I'll take cah yeall. Said I took his job. I don'
know nuthin' 'bout his job. Was asked to come and hiahed
fah an' squah. Told him that. He called me a liah an' I
told him he's nuthuh. Got riled an' I done fawget what the
pahson said 'bout bein' meek and inheritin' the uth."
And Jack threw his long, lank, bruised body down on the
the bed.
His wife bathed his bruises and sent for the preacher,
who came, saw that Jack was not going to die, and warned
him about expressing his thoughts too freely. The neigh¬
bors came and comforted each one leaving in Jack's palm a
mite to help out until he was able to work.
46
LET MY PEOPLE GO
Meanwhile the news had spread in the little colony that
the new-comers were not welcome in the city. A few
quarrels took place, resulting in th^stovping of a street¬
car and the taking off by force of Jesse Vardaman and
George Washington Jones, whom a crowd of white ruffians
beat with whips.
Then such a turmoil arose in that c;^v as is hard to de¬
scribe. It seemed as if Satan entered into the hearts of
•nen, women, and children, and aroused quickly the poison
of hatred, prejudice, and revenge, which was working and
spreading like leaven until the whole was leavened. x
May be I should not have said "the whole", for better
class of white citizens knew little of the trouble that was
breeding.
There were rumors among the colored population that all
Negroes were to be ejected from the city. There was fear
of mob violence, in fact, there is always that fear in the
subconsciousness of every Negro, and he tries in a way to be
prepared for the mob any day. However, with their usual
optimism, the Negroes laughed, sang, and feasted for the
day, and thought as little as possible of the morrow.
One evening all was quiet in the colony of the emigrants
from Mississippi. Every family seemed to be in its own
cottage. In the pastor's home all was at peace outwardly.
Inwardly all, except little Teddy, were entertaining grave
misgivings, for the rumors had reached them.
"Mother, Wife, I'd give all I ever expect to have, if the
people were safe in Mississippi," said the Pasto ~.
"It could hardly be worse than some things which happen
down South. You know the time Jilm Adams was lynched
because he was suspected of poisoning a mule, and he didn't
do it either, " protested his wife.
"Yes, yes, I suppose this will be better after they get
used to so many of us. I'm not attached to any place. I
want justice and liberty. How's Jack?" inquired Reverend
Samson.
"Oh, he's all right," answered his wife. "He's gone back
LET MY PEOPLE GO
47
to work . Molly is worried and anxious. I'm troubled
about Molly."
"Jest leave it in the hansi of the Lawd, chilluns," said
the aged woman.
"We colored people expect the Lord to do it all,—our
share, too," laughed the preacher.
Daddy, how big is God?" asked Teddy.
His question was unanswerable, but no attempt was ever
made to answer Teddy, for at that minute there was heard
the honk, honk, of an automobile, followed by a volley of
shots.
They rushed into the street. A crowd gathered.
Bang! Bang!
"Their're firing on us!" shouted several Negroes.
Bang!
Bang!
"Oh, Daddy!" And little Teddy fell at his mother's
feet.
A great moan from those who saiw, then a shout for re¬
venge. A dozen men started after the machine. The
preacher raised his voice in warning.
"Back! Back! Into your houses! You can do nothing
that way! The child -is not hurt much."
The people obeyed the voice of the preacher, partly
because they reverenced him, and now their hearts ached
for him, but partly, too, because they were afraid, terrified
beyond description.
Teddy was not badly hurt. The bullet seemed just to
have grazed his shoulder; but the child was terribly fright¬
ened. The grandmother screamed hysterically. The mother
sat with Teddy in her arms, singing a lullaby, and the fathe
walked the floor, praying aloud. Scenes somewhat similar
were being enacted in every part of the city, wherever a
Negro lived. No one slept in all the colony or, in fact, in
any Negro home in the city, where the news had reached.
Women moaned and screamed. Some of the men swore;
48
LET MY PEOPLE GO
but most of them prayed. Many got revolvers from their
hiding-places and waited.
At five o'clock in the morning an automobile was heard
coming! It was just as the first whistle was sounding in
the factory where they worked. Every man rushed to
his door. As the machine approached the church, one
Negro fired, then another fired! Six bullets were sent in
rapid succession at the machine, which halted in front of
the church a moment and then passed to the preacher's
cottage. It was seen then that it was filled with policemen,
and that one was seriously wounded. Then the machine
backed and went rapidly the way it had come.
Preacher and people went back into their homes and wait¬
ed in trembling apprehension.
"Son, let's go back to Mississippi!" shrieked the aged
mother.
"When my people go, Mother," said Reverend Samson.
A tramping of many feet! A hurling of stones! The
firing of guns! Shrieks, moans, curses, prayers ! Suddenly
there was a whirl of everything unearthly!
"Fire! Fire! Fire!" shouted many voices.
The preacher and his family ran out. There was a surg¬
ing mass of human beings before the church, rushing hither
and thither. The air was already dense with smoke. The
preacher ran into the crowd and began to preach his last
Sunday's sermon. He did not notice in his excitement
that the church was on fire. In five minutes the Cottage
was burning, too. The two women and the boy were
swallowed up in its awful whirlpool. A crowd of white
women, with wildly flying hair and garments, rushed by
just as a shot struck the preacher's wife. Two women
took the body and threw it back into the burning house;
then they rushed on. One of them stumbled and fell over
Teddy who had fallen near. the burning cottage. She
arose with a curse, grasped Teddy by the arm, and dragged
him to an open space in the throng. Then these savage wo¬
men stripped the clothing from his little body and in frenzy
LET MY PEOPLE GO
49
of hatred they stoned him until they had finished the earth¬
ly life of their victim. They then threw the body into the
flames.
The preacher was just hurrying to his home. He had
failed to make an impression on the maddened mob. As he
came within sight of the house he saw it was enveloped in
flames and ran toward it as a madman. A dozen men pulled
him back.
"That's no use, Parson, 'tis all over with them. Let's
go back! See! The people are gathering. They are look¬
ing for you to lead them back. We need you! Come with
us!"
With a groan: "How big is God?" the Pastor joined the
crowd, and learned the terrible story of the death of wife
and child.
"Where's Mother ?—There! There! There !"
She was dead. Sitting against a tree where s»he had been
tied with her own apron strings, there she was. She had
suffered a martyr's death, for she was guilty of no crime,
unless it be crime to have a dark face.
The preacher ran to the tree, tore the strings away, took
the body in his arms, and rushed wildly on. He seemed to
have the strength of ten men and the voice of twenty as
he called the people to follow. On, on, they rushed toward
the river, a multitude of Southern Negroes, of Northern
Negroes! On! on! on! leaving their huts, hundreds of
their own dead and some dead enemies. They heaped male¬
dictions upon the white race as they rolled, a dense black
mass, over the bridge. Blame them not. Wait until you
pass through such a hell yourself, unscathed.
Nearly a thousand exhausted, panting, human beings,
they fell on Missouri soil. At the head of the motley com¬
pany was the Reverend Elijah Samson with Jhisf! dead
mother in his arms. He was stark mad!
As the last struggler tumbled upon the bank, a band
somewhere struck up: "Look away! Dixie Land!"
The mayor of St. Louis came swiftly to the scene ac-
50
LET MY PEOPLE GO
companied by the police. He stood up in! his automobile
and read the following telegram:
"Take oare of Mississippi Negroes at our expense! Send
them to the cotton fields as soon as possible. We need
them. We want them."
J. C. JOHNSON
Mayor of Bilexi
But they did not go.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
51
CHAPTER VII
Bob's Old Friend Remembers
"0 Mother Ida, Hearken ere I die."
In a hospital in the city sat Helen Adams. Her light
brown, beautiful face wore the serene expression common
to a trained nurse. The cap was very becoming. The black
wavy hair rolled back from a broad, rather high forehead.
The eyes of darkest brown were shaded by long, curling
lashes.
She was thinking this morning of her college days. Hap¬
py, busy days they had been! She had worked hard to earn
her way through college. Left an orphan at an early age,
she had had a long struggle. She and her brother James, had
been all to each other till that sad day, that terrible day,
when the cruel mob had taken him away. Her thoughts
turned back to that day she shuddered, covered her
face with her hands, and moaned. But she had resolved not
to think of that. Then she thought of another handsome
boyish face, and a quick blush came. She 'Started up to
go and look after her patients. Bob McComb surely did
not care for her. He had paid very little attention to her
in school, and she had never heard what he had done, or
where he was since he left school. She must not think of
him. It made her unhappy in a way,—but she liked to
think of him, too. Where w^s he? Had he gone to war?
Why should he go ? Jim would have gone, too. She brush¬
ed away her tears, and turned her thoughts aside, and
hurried to her work.
Helen was an expert nurse. She had thoroughly mastered
her profession. In a month she would be out of debt. She
was glad she had worked it through,—she had been de¬
termined to get a college education and then she had taken
52
LET MY PEOPLE GO
up nursing- as the quickest way to get her debt paid. She
had worked for her board while in college, but the last two
years in school she had had to go in debt deeply, because
she could not work so hard as she had before and keep up
with her class. The president had been kind and had
trusted her, and now she would pay him the very last of
her indebtedness in one more month.
As she entered the ward, the doctor met her. He had a
worried look on his earnest young face. His eyes lighted
up as he looked at Helen.
"Miss Adams, we are to have some hard work. Get all
the girls ready for strenuous work. I am sorry to tell
you that there has been a riot across the river. There are
a number of people hurt, they are bringing us twenty pati¬
ents,' said he.
"O Dr. Deems, how terrible! What was it about ? asked
Helen.
"As nearly as I can learn, a colony of our people from
the South got into trouble with the whites about work in a
factory—," answered the doctor.
"O Dr. Deems! from Mississippi?" asked Helen.
"I do not know. Do you know any emigrants from Mis¬
sissippi?" rejoined he.
"Yes, I heard that a large colony of as many as six-
hundred came a few weeks ago from a town near my home
town. I thought of going over as soon as I could get off.
I may know some of the people. Were any killed? inquir¬
ed Helen.
"A number, my dear Miss Adams. The minister lost his
wife, his boy, and his mother. He is in a serious condition,
I am told. His mind is gone, they fear. They are bringing
him here to let us try, hoping after the terrible excitement
has passed that he may be sane. I said we would try and
see what we could do for him. Please get the corner room
on the, second floor ready and station the girls down here.
I am sorry the head nurse is out, but I feel that you are
competent," said he.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
53
"Thank you, Doctor, I'll do my best," answered Helen.
Just at that moment the ambulances commenced coming-.
Helen hurried away to warn the girls and to prepare for the
minister. Soon he came. He was raving but ^helpless.
His strength had been overtaxed and he lay back, limp, on
the stretcher. The men laid him on the bed. Helen sup¬
pressed a cry when she looked into his face. She had
known him years ago. He did not recognize her, at least
not then. She and the others made him comfortable. There
was no danger of violence, they saw, for he was exhausted.
The doctor came in.
"Yes," he said, "it is worth the effort. I'll ask the in¬
terne to stay in the next room. You, Miss Adams, please
take the case.5'
"All right, Doctor. I think I know him."
"That is well. You may be able to help him," answered
the doctor.
Helen watched her patient all the night. He raved about
the riot, the fire, his wife, his boy, fais mother. One
thing he said, startled her every time he uttered it. It was
this: "How big is God?"
Toward morning he seemed to sleep, he was so quiet.
Just as the sun was rising, he opened 'his eyes. At the in¬
stant, Helen was at his side. He looked up at her.
"Little Helen," he said," I have a penny. Let us buy
some candy at the store." Then he closed !his eyes.
Helen's heart throbbed. He knew her! And he thought
she was a child, too. In half an hour <he opened liis eyes
again.
"Ah!" he said, "I have never found Bob McComb, and I
promised."
Then he closed his eyes again.
At the mention of Bob's name, Helen started and the
warm blood surged to her face. But the preacher seemed
to be unconscious again.
So he knew Bob! "O Christ! that I might find him—or
that he mig'ht find me, and love me!" she murmured in her
54
LET MY PEOPLE GO
heart, and then was ashamed. Was Bob in France? Would
he come home again ? The minister opened his eyes.
"Helen." he said, "give it to Bob. In my coat pocket.
Find him! I promised. His aunt hunted him. She is—
gone—and— and—I am going. Yes, Teddy, I'll go with
you now "
And quietly the minister passed.
Helen closed his eyes; then she went out, shut the door,
and telephoned the doctor. She kept thinking about what
the poor man had said about Bob. When the doctor came
she told him and together they searched the dead man's
pockets. Among other things they found a letter addressed
to Bob McComb and a legal paper, proving to be a deed
for a house and lot in a Mississippi town. The letter was
sealed.
Helen took the letter and paper and stowed them away in
her trunk. Here was a lawful reason for finding Bob, and it
brought some cheer to her sad heart. She acknowledged
now to herself that she loved Bob. She would be very,
very glad to do this for him. She felt sure that Bob was
in the army somewhere. What could she do? A woman
could not fight. Then she picked up the daily paper and
began looking it over mechanicalljy. Another (call ,for
nurses. Why would they not take colored nurses? She
was willing to go and face death for the sake of the boys,—
for the sake of the country. But the Red Cross had said
"No"!
"I'll try again," said Helen to herself. ,
So she wrote that very evening, asking for the privilege
of going to France to nurse the colored soldiers.
They buried the minister and his mother in the colored
cemctry in St. Louis. Helen went during her hours of re¬
lease from duty to call upon the distressed survivers of the
riot and heard the whole of the terrible story.
"No," said they, "we are not going back. The few who
had wanted to have changed their minds. They want us,
yes, but it's worse there. In the North we're treated like
LET MY PEOPLE GO
55
men anyway—usually. Those crazy people over the river
are not Northerners. We're going to Chicago as soon as
we can get the money."
And they did.
Meanwhile Helen received !her answer from the Red
Cross. Courteously she was refused a position as nurse, but
was told she might be received as servant for the nurses
and might be allowed to go to France. They would keep
her letter and communicate with 'her later. Helen was dis¬
appointed, of course, but she did not feel hurt, she was
used to slights of all kinds from white people, and she 'had
hardly expected any consideration. She had tried before.
Perhaps that was the reason they 'had offered this time to
let her go as a servant. She made; up iher mind to bear the
humiliation and go if she had the opportunity. She won¬
dered why it would break the color line more to nurse
a colored soldier than to help a white nurse. But people
were queer. She thought of Christ who broke caste long
ago. She knew that He cared just as much for 'her, and if
she ever should be so fortunate as tcx igo to the heavenly
city that it would not be her race that would keep her from
the largest service and the nearest friendship with Him.
She must find Bob. She searched in the papers for in¬
formation as to the location qf colored soldiers. She wrote to
the president of the old college, asking Bob's whereabouts,
telling him she had news of importance for him. The presi¬
dent wrote that he did not know in what camp he was, but
that he was in camp. He had taken (officer's training, but
was probably still in some American camp.
So Helen waited.
56
LET MY PEOPLE GO
CHAPTER VIII
The Training of Men
"I, Loving Freedom and Uintried."
Mr. Brown was as good as his word, and the officers'
training camp was instituted partly, at least, because he
had asked for it. Bob just had time to finish his school,
and then he was off to the distant city.
There was a song in his heart, and he was full of hope
for himself, for his people, for his country, and for the
world. Somehow, he felt that now he was entering upon
his career in earnest. The God who had called him was
leading, and He was in charge of the issue. He would fol¬
low on. All the bitterness of the past was forgotten.
There was a great opening for him and for his people.
As the drilling and hiking began, there was no time for
thoughts. Bob was naturally quick, and soon was put into
a position of trust. At the end of his training, he was
given a commission as Captain of Infantry.
Bob hoped to be sent to France at once, but the superior
officers soon saw his ability as a leader of men, and he
was sent to a camp to receive and train the draftees.
It was here that Bob's career as a soldier came near
being wrecked, and it was only the influence of his mother's
memory and her spirit and the keeping power of his
mother's Christ that saved him from despair and kept him
loyal.
The bunch he was training were hard to manage. They
were in a sorry condition when they arrived. They had
come from a southern county of Georgia, where they had
been in peonage on a cotton plantation. They seemed to
think army life Liberty—and it was; with all its rigor it
was a coming-out into a wide place in comparison with the
straits in which they had lived. Bob listened to their con-
LET MY PEOPLE GO
57
versation and the account of their lives at home, and while
it sickened his heart, it also quickened his desire to bring
salvation to the black men of the South by some means.
These boys were tasting1 a Liberty they would not be sat¬
isfied without any more.
"Tom," said John, "if ever I get back to the old United
States, I'll never live in Georgia."
"No—that's me, John," answered Tom. "That old fool
what made the speech to us, told us we needn't think things
ud be different when we got back. This Liberty—fightin'
goin' to give me some, sho."
"That makes me mad yet when I think of it. Gettin' up
there to make us a farewell speech and sayin' that! Things
ull be different with him if he don' look out and things ull
be different with me. I'm gonter tell you," said John.
These boys had been in camp, a month. They no longer
slouched along "any old way," but marched in perfect
rhythm, erect and proud, and Captain Bob had begun to
hope that he might be sent to France with these. There
was not a coward among them, and they were very enthu¬
siastic. They were a lovable set, too.
"With a battalion of these, I could take a whole regiment
of Huns," said Captain Bob.
But alas! It was not to be. The very night Bob made
such an exultant report to himself of his boys, sorrow
unspeakable came to him.
Taps had sounded and all was still. Every soldier seemed
sound asleep. Captain McComb slept soundly. It had been
a fatiguing day.
It must have been one o'clock when someone touched
him on the shoulder.
"Beg pardon, Captain," said the voice of one of his men,
"I hate to disturb you, but I'll have to tell now. I prom¬
ised I wouldn't, but it's time they were back and they
haven't come yet."
"Who haven't come yet?" asked Bob, springing up at
once.
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LET MY PEOPLE GO
"Why, the boys, Cap. They slipped off. Wanted me to
go, but I wouldn't. 'Twas the women, Cap, caused it.
But some went to a show, I reckon. And, Cap, I heard a
shot or two in the direction of the town, or I wouldn't
have waked you. Now, I've done give it away. Whatever
ull we do, Cap?" the voice went on.
"How many are gone, Lias?" asked Bob, recognizing
the voice.
"As many as fifty, I reckon," answered Lias.
"Come on, Comrade," said Bob. "You did just right not
to go. But now come with me and we'll bring them back.
God grant that no harm may have come to them, and that
they may have done none."
"Good, Cap! That's it,—pray. That's the reason I didn't
go. Couldn't pray and go!" said Lias.
During the conversation, they were hurrying toward
town. As they neared their destination they began to
meet khaki-clad forms running toward camp. Some
saluted and passed on; all avoided as much as possible the
officer and the private, and Bob did not halt them, but hur¬
ried, knowing that the most of them were still in the town
and he must hasten. Finally he met a crowd, and, suppos¬
ing all were now safe outside the town limits, he halted
them. They saluted and stood, waiting for him to speak.
"Boys," he said, "I am surely surprised and disappointed
that you should have left camp without permission. What
have you been doing? Where have you been?"
At last one spoke:
"We're sorry enough, Captain, about leaving camp. It
was Sam Crawford, Sir. An'—an'—they've killed him!"
Bob's heart sank within him.
"Is he the only one left in the town?" asked he.
"Yes, Captain," was the answer.
"Then, boys, we'll get the body tomorrow. Let's go
back to camp."
Silently and swiftly the boys returned to camp. Captain
LET MY PEOPLE GO
59
McComb then gathered them around his tent and got the
story.
"Now, boys, confess it all to me," said he.
"Jim Jones knows the most," they explained.
"Jim," said Bob, "tell me all the truth."
"Oh Cap," Jim began. His eyes rolled and his lips trem¬
bled; "me'an Sam went with them gals. Then we thought
we'd go to the show. We started in, an' a couple of white
folks—they's no bettern us—they's mad 'bout them gals
an' made a fuss 'bout us bein' at the show an' the show¬
man put us out. Then we started back to camp. 'Bout
that time we come 'cross a cop 'ith one of them gals. An'
just as we got up hind side of 'em—de cop tuk hoi' Sal's
arm an' twisted it—den he struck her with his club over
de shoulder—just here." And Jim stopped to illustrate
on a comrade. "Sam couldn't stan' that, I reckon, so he
lammed away on de cop. I hid hin a sto' box and peeked
out. The cop tu'nd on Sam and let Sal go. Sam tuk to
his heels and run, but de cop tripped him an' he fell, den
de cop beat him wid de club and I guess he's done fo\ I
fiahed my gun an' run, an' heah I be."
"Who else had a gun?" asked Bob. "Hold nothing back,
boys."
A dozen hands went up.
"Who else fired?"
The hands went up again. Bob's heart was like lead,
and his hands grew cold. What had they all done?
"Speak, boys," he calmly commanded.
"I'll tell you, Cap," said William Read. "We all fired.
A crowd gathered—a big crowd—gathered 'round him,
Sam, I mean. We started up. Thought we'd bring him
away. Someone fired at us—an' we fired back. Two or
three screamed, an' we run, too."
"Well, boys, that'll do."
By this time the bugle had sounded. Captain Bob imme¬
diately gave the boys up to the Colonel, to be tried by court
martial. By seven o'clock a mob of about three hundred
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LET MY PEOPLE GO
came out to camp and demanded the soldiers who had been
in town. Being refused, they went away quietly. At nine
o'clock the police came, but were told that the criminals
would be dealt with in the army.
At the trial eleven of Bob's company were found guilty
of murder and were hanged one sad morning at daybreak.
The boys went to their death like heroes, singing, "Swing
low, sweet chariot." At a second trial, twenty others were
sentenced to the penitentiary, and seven to be hanged.
An appeal to the President brought a suspension of pun¬
ishment for all of these. But Captain Bob was crushed
and a cloud of despair settled upon him.
Soon after this, Bob received a long official-looking
envelope. Wonderingly, he opened it and read this:
Captain McComb:
We know you are dissatisfied. Your men were
not treated fairly. That is no place for you. You
have no liberty. Get your men, all of the colored
folks, and make a strike for liberty. We'll help
you throw off the yoke. Come over to the Ger¬
man side. Meet me in the grove by Strong's
Chapel, on the night of the eighteenth of this
month, and I'll tell you what to do and how to
do it.
Your friend.
The letter was in excellent English, but Bob knew the
source. The person who had written it was a German,
or of German descent. He wondered where he or she was.
The letter was in a bold hand, yet the writing was femi¬
nine, too. He paid no attention to' the letter, further than
to ask for a transfer to another cantonment. His request
was readily granted as the superior officers were sorry
for him and, too, they thought it best to get him away
from there.
In a few days he was on the "train for an Eastern camp.
He was glad it was East he was going, for now he hoped
LET MY PEOPLE GO
61
shortly to be sent to France. About ten miles on his jour¬
ney he passed a group of buildings. The train stopped
for water and Bob studied the buildings with interest.
There was a familiar air about them. He remembered that
the company had passed them several times on the hikes,
but he had had neither time nor opportunity to notice them
much. Ah! he knew now why there was a familiarity
about the campus. It was a Negro school, an academy, he
judged, for just then a group of young boys, evidently
from the school, ran up to the train. Then followed, more
leisurely, a group of girls with a teacher. She was white,
and as she and her charges neared Bob, he saw that she
had an unmistakably German countenance. She looked at
Bob searchingly. He saluted, and as the train moved away
he thought of the letter he had received a few days before.
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LET MY PEOPLE GO
CHAPTER IX
"A heavy heart, Beloved, have I borne
From year to year, until I saw thy face."
Just six weeks after Helen had seen the minister pass,
she received from Washington a letter appointing her
nurse in an Eastern camp. She was surprised; but things
moved rapidly during the great war, and there had come
an urgent demand for nurses. Gladly she made prepara¬
tions to go. She left the hospital with some regret, for
she had many friends among both nurses and patients.
She was too busy, however, to be sad about this; besides,
there was a joy which overpowered any sadness. She was
going to do something for God, something for humanity,
something for her country, and maybe find Bob!
So Helen sang as she packed her modest wardrobe. She
sang in her heart all the lbng hours, and as she came in
sight of the cantonment she gave such an exclamation
of delight that the passengers turned to look at her radiant
face.
As she stepped off the train she saw that the colored
troops were drilling, so she stood and watched them. How
handsome they looked in their new khaki! Tramp, tramp,
tramp, in perfect step came the boys, so tall and straight
and manly. Suddenly her heart stood still—and then gave
a bound, sending the blood rushing to her face. There was
Bob! Their eyes met as he passed. He gave her an aston¬
ished smile and marched on with his company.
Captain McComb was delighted! As soon as the drill
was over he hastened back to the place where he had seen
Helen. After inquiry, he found her at the hostess house,
awaiting orders.
"Miss Adams! Is i1i possible ? Oh, yes—a nurse, I see.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
63
How fine of you to come, and to this camp! How did it
happen?"
"Mr.—Oh, excuse me, Captain McComb—I do not know
how it happened I came here—but I've been trying to get
in as a nurse for ever so long," answered Helen.
Bob had a hundred questions to ask, and as he pressed
her hand again before going to mess he said, huskily:
"I believe God loves colored folks, after all."
Those were happy days for both. Bob concluded he
wanted to join an aviation corps—he felt like flying. That
brought the hated color-line question into his mind.
"No!—they wouldn't let me in because—" he began bit¬
terly ; but he was too happy to dwell upon that and he
dismissed the thought as soon as it came with a song: "I
want to be a Christian in my heart." "Anyhow we got
nurses—the nurse," he said to himself. "Step by step and
round by round—perhaps a big leap some day. Isn't that
fine, about the money Aunt left me? I'll sell the house—■
I'll save my money, and when I get back from France, I'll
study law. It's a knowledge of law, and other things, and
money we need."
Then a shudder went through his frame, for he thought
of the awful East St. Louis affair which had brought good
to him personally, but which had brought unspeakable sor¬
row to hundreds, and thrown gloom over all the race. "O
God!" he groaned. "And in a Northern State! O Lord,
Thou hast promised vengeance. How long wilt Thou
tarry? I go to fight for Democracy! Democracy for
others! Alas! who will give it to me and mine?"
Then he thought of a scene by a little church, and of the
glory that had come to him there, when he had said "Here
am I, send me!" And he repeated that consecration and
was comforted.
Bob and Helen talked these things over during those
days. Bob was delighted to find that Helen thought about
them as he did, and Helen was thrillingly happy. She
knew now that she had loved Bob McComb from that first
64
LET MY PEOPLE GO
encounter in the train as they were going to school, and
she felt restful and homey in his presence. It never
occurred to her that things might come between them,
and she scarcely thought of the future after the war. Bob
might have to go into battle, she might be in danger, but
what was to be would be, and that "was to be" was some¬
thing beautiful with Bob in it.
And Bob wondered if after the war he might aspire to
Helen. She had seemed always so grand, so superior!
And he could scarcely believe that this superb Helen was
the same girl who was chatting with him day after day in
the beautiful reception room of the Y. W. C. A. hostess
house.
They went into the city together some weeks after her
arrival in camp. Helen had some shopping to do and Bob
strolled around for an hour. After he found Helen, he
escorted her to a restaurant and they seated themselves.
They were full of peace and of quiet happiness, feeling
that they were in the line of duty and service for their
country, and glad to be together. They waited, listening
to the soft music. They sat thus for some time and did
not notice that it was getting late until Bob looked at
his watch and exclaimed:
"Ten minutes to one! I've got to be back by two!"
Then hfe looked around. The waiters, Negroes, were
avoiding their table.
"What is this, Helen ?" said he. "This is a Northern city,
there's no distinction here on account of color, is there?"
He looked on his fellow Negroes with growing contempt.
"Cowards!" said he under his breath, "how are we ever
to step forward as men with such as they hanging like
weights upon us?"
Just then the proprietor of the restaurant advanced to
their table.
"I must request you to leave the room," said he, "we
cannot serve you."
Bob's eyes flashed.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
65
"lhis lady," said he, "is a Red Cross nurse, and I am a
soldier of my country—a captain in the United States
army."
"I am sorry, but the people, you know, would object. As
for myself—it is all right with me. I am friend of the
Negro, and wish him well—but it would do more harm
than good to favor, openly, social equality."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Bob. "1 expected such things in
the South. We do—and abide by them because we must,
but here in this Northern city, in this Abolition State,
I expected courtesy for this lady. I expected fair treat¬
ment, and shall demand it. You shall hear from me again."
Then, turning to his companion: "Here, Helen, is your
car just coming. Go on to camp, I'll follow soon."
And they stepped into the street.
Bob spent a few minutes reporting the affair to the
mayor of the city, who, in Bob's presence, wrote an order
to the unmannerly caterer, asking that soldiers and Red
Cross nurses of color be served in his restaurant. At the
same time he assured Bob of his sorrow that the uniform
had been insulted in his city, and promised to issue a
proclamation regarding courtesy in all public places to the
servants of Uncle Sam.
Bob then went back to camp, arriving just in time for
drill. He felt weak for want of food, but he had a feeling
of victory, of elation.
"Some time, I'll give it a big blow—I'll smash it com¬
pletely. God help me to do it. A soldier for Democracy—
for all people—and that includes my people!" he said.
After the evening mess, he went to the Y. W. C. A. hut,
hoping that Helen would be there, and she was! But there
was somebody with her. A man's face was turned toward
him. A queer sinking of his spirits came over him. Helen
did not see him at first, but as soon as she did, she beckoned
him to come to them.
"Captain McComb, this is Dr. Deems, Captain McComb,"
said she.
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LET MY PEOPLE GO
The men shook hands with a great show of cordiality.
"Dr. Deems has volunteered to go to France as a surgeon.
Isn't that fine of him?" said Helen.
Bob looked doubtful, but he answered smiling:
"Highly patriotic, Miss Adams. And when do you
sail, Dr. Deems?"
"Tomorrow morning, I believe," replied the doctor."
I am happy to state, too, that I have succeeded in
getting the War Department to let me take some nurses
with me. I understand that you are a strong Race man,
so you will be glad to hear that, I know."
Bob started and looked at Helen. 1
"I am going on the ship with nine girls," said Helen.
She looked at Bob, but he was studying the pattern of his
rug. "The order has come suddenly."
"Oh, success to you both—to you all!" answered Bob,
looking away. "Doubtless I'll see you again before the
boat leaves," he added, as he turned to go.
Helen colored and bit her lip, but recovered herself
quickly and went on talking to Dr. Deems about the work
upon which they were entering.
"Ah! Miss Adams, so that is Bob McComb! You know
him quite well, I suppose?" The doctor's mind wandered
from the subject.
"Oh, yes, we are firm friends. Quite chummy at school,"
answered Helen.
"Indeed!" Then, after a slight pause: "You were both
quite young at that time. Miss Adams, you are cut out
for a doctor's wife. Pardon!" he exclaimed, quickly, for
Helen looked decidedly cool. "I will wait. You see you
hurried off so. I know I have no right to speak now,
perhaps not at all. Let us be the best of friends just now
while the country needs us."
Helen was worried, not about the doctor's talk—but
Bob was displeased, and they were to be separated again;
she would lose him again. She answered absently and soon
LET MY PEOPLE GO
67
excused herself and retired to her room. She was very-
busy all evening and far into the night, getting ready to
start. Having eaten her breakfast and given necessary-
orders, she went to the hostess house, hoping to have a
chat with Bob. He was not there, nor did he appear until
the ship was almost ready to start. Then he came and
held out his hand with his usual smile.
"Good-by, Miss Adams. I have enjoyed these days a
great deal. I may be coming over soon. A soldier must
be ready for orders of any kind, and at any' time, as well
as a nurse, you know1," he said.
"Good-by, Captain Bob; I'll be looking for you!" Helen
blushed furiously, and knew it. She thought to herself that
if Bob had just a little more appreciation of himself, he
v(rould know how she adored him; but Bob was so dense
about some things and so sharp about others. He was in
the dark about her feelings, and she was losing him again I
He didn't care that way about her.
"By the way, Helen," said he, as Dr. D,teems approached.
"I made that matter all right for the future—the cafe, you
know."
"Good!" Helen approved.
"And so our good captain has come to bid us farewell,
I see," said Dr. Deems as he joined them.
Bob could have choked him then and there, but he forced
a smile as he shook hands.
Then the whistle blew and all the doctors and nurses
hurried aboard. Bob stood and returned Helen's salute,
then turned and walked briskly away to meet his company.
68
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CHAPTER X
"One moment now may give us more
Than years of toiling reason."
Heartsore and disappointed, Bob drilled his men and
with them dug trenches and rehearsed the cruel game they
were to be compelled to play across the sea. Finally the
wound in his heart healed, and along with hard work came
peace.
"Perhaps, after all," he thought, "I judged Helen too
quickly. I thought she cared without even considering how
little I could possibly be to her. Then, too, how do I
know that' she cares for the doctor? He acted like it was
all settled, and she couldn't say or even look anything, for
what right had I ever given her? Bob, you are a fool. I
doubt if I'll ever see her again. This is a terrible war I am
entering. For my country? For my God, anyhow."
Soon the orders came to move and they were in beautiful
France. In the excitement of it all Bob forgot his sorrows,
his heartaches and even forgot the wrongs of his people for
the time being.
It was in a village in the land of the poilus. The troops
had entered the village and had found people lined up to
receive them. As they approached, a great shout arose:
"Americans! Americans!"
As they entered, marching erectly between the rows of
villagers, the cry died away for a few moments, and a
surprised exclamation came:
"Oh, they are colored Yanks!" but as the smiling black
troops saluted, the cheer arose louder than ever: "Vive les
Americains noirs! Vive 1' Amerique!" ("Hurrah for the
black Americans ! America forever !")
Captain McComb's company went into quarters, tired
but glad to be in sunny France.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
69
The next day the officers received an invitation to a
banquet to be held in their honor in the beautiful little
park in the center of the town.
Bob was inclined to stay in barracks. The Houston
affair had made, him wary.
"Captain McComb! Captain McComb! Aren't you
going?" shouted his boys as they saw that he had not made
any preparations to be at the function, and the time was
drawing near for the departure of the officers.
"I don't know, boys," answered Bob.
"Go! Of course, you'll go !"
And the boys hustled to get him ready. One offered to
press his suit, another to shine his shoes, and all clamored
for some part in the momentous occasion. Bob yielded
smilingly, and soon was as neatly garbed as it was possible
for the boys of the company to make him, and went off,
laughing with the rest.
Well, they were so feasted and toasted and lionized that
Bob exclaimed to a dashing young officer at his right:
""Oh, I feel natural. I had forgotten I was a Negro. T am
going to forget it altogether and never remember it while
I am in glorious France."
The men retired to the barracks happy, and ready as
never before to face the enemy. "For la bella France!" was
their motto.
After a few days in this village they were ordered to
move forward and enter the trenches. Bob and his company
were on the right of the division. No sooner had they
established themselves than the shrapnel began falling
thickly. They kept low in the trench. Then some started
to sing and all joined in "God's goin' to take care of me."
Along the line the brown boys in khaki caught up the
strain until over in the white division they heard it and
took comfort. They then lay down and slept as if at home
in their mothers' trundle-beds.
Bob awoke suddenly as something stepped across his
face. Oo—ooh! in the dim light of flaring torch he saw a
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LET MY PEOPLE GO
huge grey rat calmly leaving him, to investigate other
American soldiers. In another moment he forgot the rat,
for he was aware that there were other intruders, tiny
animalcules promenading up and down his back.
"Whew!" he said to himself, "I've heard of you and now
I make your acquaintance! For la belle France and my
country! For my people, I will play the man!"
Thus the days and nights passed in the trenches until
one morning the command came to "go over the top."
"Cap, let's go! Let's go! We can take the trench!"
cried Bob's boys.
"All right, boys. Forward!"
A hurry of dark boys in khaki! The gas is blinding,
burning! O God, they cannot go! They sway backward:
"Forward, boys ! Steady now, a few steps only," a strong
voice said.
The shots, flames and shrapnel showered upon them, and
many heroes fell; but the trench was gained and the
Germans fled, leaving, however, several scores of prisoners,
who were promptly disarmed and sent to the rear. And
while the hospital corps gathered up the dead and wounded,
the boys proceeded to make themselves comfortable in the
enemy's trench until they were rested sufficiently to make
another drive.
All was quiet again. Captain McComb went along the
trench cheering his men.
Suddenly an unearthly din arose and the Captain and his
comrades peeped cautiously over. The white company of
Yankees was sweeping onward!
"Come on, boys!" said the Captain. "The white Yankees
must not beat us. We'll take one end, while they take
the other."
Quickly they rallied and were off again.
Back, back, swayed the white Yankees! In vain the
officers tried to rally them; the heat was fearful and
they wavered hopelessly. On came the Germans. Did the
LET MY PEOPLE GO
71
Negro company retreat? No! No retreat for Captain
Bob McComb and his black Yankees!
"Forward, boys," ordered Captain Bob. "In between the
Yankees and the Germans ! Let's go, my boys !"
The black troops swept forward and wedged in between
the Germans and the exhausted Americans. They put a
thick shield before the white Americans a,nd poured such
a deadly fire of well-aimed shots at the Germans that they
fell by the score, and the rest ran in wild confusion.
Captain Bob and his boys then turned to see what the
whites were doing. They had faced about and were ready
to enter the trench with them. The officer in command
raised his steel cap and shouted:
"Hurrah for the American Negro!"
Captain McComb took one look at the white officer and
a picture came to him of a sign in a window in a Southern
American city and a memory of: "You fellows are not
going to war. You're going to jail!" And then quickly
another picture flashed before his mind's eye, of a swaying
street-car and a slender, beautiful girl wildly grasping for
a strap, and a voice rang in his ears once more: "Put that
nigger off!" The man now paying him tribute was the
man that had insulted him twice.
"Hurrah for the American Negro !" said the officer.
The white Yankees took up the yell until the battlefield
rang again. When they had finished, Captain McComb
lifted his cap and said:
"Hurrah boys, for the Yankees, white and black!"
And the yell of the Negro troops exceeded that of the
white troops in volume.
The two companies then entered the trench singing
together,
"My country, 'tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing."
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Through the Argonne Forest went the Captain and his
black Yankees. The dead and dying lay around, and many
of Bob's boys fell. For two days they had no food, but
they did not feel the need of food; for they expected any
moment to die. Then the victory came, as the world.
knows> and the white and black troops took position
before Metz. The guns of the Germans were quiet for the
most part. Some firing came from the east of the division,
desultory at first; afterward it increased' in force and
frequency.
"Captain McComb, send five or six of your men to find
that nest of Huns," said the Colonel of Bob's regiment one
evening just at dusk.
"All right, Colonel," said Bob, saluting.
"Who'll get the Huns?" asked he, turning to his men.
"I, I, sir!" said two dozen voices.
"Not all of you, boys."'
So he selected six. The rest were disappointed, but a
soldier gets used to everything.
In a few hours five of the boys returned, bringing tea
prisoners.
"Here we are, Captain. Two got away and five others
couldn't get away."
"Well done, boys, but where's John?"
"Poor John! The Huns got him on the hip. He's comin'!"
Bob at once got out of the trench and went to meet
the wounded soldier. He was dragging himself painfully
along. Bob put his arm around him, and together they
walked slowly toward the trench.
"Whiz!" a bursting shell, then silence. Captain Bob and
his soldier lay still, within ten feet of the trench.
The boys climbed over in crowds and quickly the two
forms were gathered in strong arms and carried into the
trench.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
73
CHAPTER XI
The Base Hospital
"Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er be,
And oh! pray, too, for me."
The soldiers hurried Captain Bob to the first-aid station.
The other soldier had made "the supreme sacrifice." The
wounds were bound up as best they could be, thanks to
the first-aid supplies sent by American women. There was
a little hope for, the Captain, the first-aider said, he must
t>e got quickly to the Base Hospital.
They made the stretcher as comfortable as possible, and
four men were sent with the sacred burden to a Red Cross
ambulance in the rear of the army. His comrades put their
loved captain into the ambulance, saying "Good-by, Buddy,"
and with tears streaming down their faces, went back to
the trench.
Bob lay perfectly still! There was scarcely a sign of
life, only the regular, heavy breathing. Slowly the ambu¬
lance dragged through the heavy mud, but Bob heeded not
the passing of time. He was unconscious the whole of the
journey. There had been a flickering of consciousness at
the first-aid station, a few groans of pain, then he had
lapsed again into a stupor.
The ambulance finally reached the hospital. Silently the
still form was carried in. There was nothing unusual in
the sight. Many times a day, sometimes many times an
hour, the same scene was enacted. Bob was just one of
many.
The nurses who had seen so many, so many go, never
to return (some in dark caskets, some hobbling on crutches,
"but some, thank God, walking erect and light-hearted,
cured, well, and able to go again to the trenches), stood
there in a group, rather listlessly, as this relay of wounded
74
LET MY PEOPLE GO
came. They were tired! One by one the white-capped
girls left the group as one by one the wounded soldiers,
were taken to the cots.
As Bob's bearers approached them, the next number
stepped forward to follow the stretcher. Suddenly there
was a cry from one of the nurses, and she brushed pa"3t
the number whose turn had come and went up to the cot.
"Captain Bob!" she said.
It was Helen.
She turned to the nurse who was intended for the case.
"Change numbers with me, please," she said.
The nurse willingly did it, and as the cot, followed by
Helen, was carried into the ward, in spite of the sadness
of the occasion, there was a suppressed giggle among the
group.
But Helen did not care. It was Bob! She must try to
save him. Silently she made him as comfortable as possible.
Quickly and deftly she examined the wounds as best she
could. She would not take the bandages off until the
doctor came—if he came soon. She would wait, if possible.
That was against the rules. She bathed his face, thanking
God that it was uninjured. Shyly she bent and kissed his
lips. Then she was startled, for there was a flickering of
the eyelids and a w'an smile hovered around the lips. Then
they opened, and she caught a murmur as she bent her
head. Was it "Helen!" she heard, or did she fancy it?
Then all was still. Would the doctor never come? Ah!
there he was at last.
Doctor Deems entered the ward and passed from patient
to patient. Bandages had to be removed and wounds
dressed. Here and there some were ordered to the operat¬
ing room at once. The cot of Helen's charge was Number
10. At last the doctor came to it.
"Ah, Miss Adams! I thought your number was four¬
teen!"
He gave one glance at the patient and said no more. He
LET MY PEOPLE GO
75
quickly examined him, removed the bandages and applied
new ones. He forced open the lips and poured a restorative
down the throat. Helen obeyed directions and helped in
silence.
Those expressive eyes began to open. Then the doctor
passed on with:
"Miss Adams, there is hope for him, for you, but not for
me."
"Oh, thank you, doctor!" said Helen, ignoring, not even
hearing, the last part of his remark.
Bob was quiet for some time, and Helen went softly about
her other duties, returning often to bathe his face and to
moisten his lips, praying inwardly for God's blessing and
for His will to be done.
Then, in a few hours, she found it necessary to stay by
the cot almost constantly. He began tossing, and she had
to give quieting potion for fear he would hurt his wounds
and open them afresh. And he began to talk, sometimes in
a wild way. Helen knew that he was really better, but
she knew that he would suffer, and she dreaded it.
"Forward, boys!" he shouted. "Take the trench! Beat
the white Yankees! Certainly, Colonel, we'll clean out the
nest of Huns .... Democracy! We're fighting for
Democracy! We're going to jail? Ha! ha! We didn't
go, did we? And we're not going .... I wish I had
a seat for you, lady. He had no right to your seat ....
Hurrah for the Yankees, black and white! . . . . Don't
mind. Be somebody, and they'll be ashamed! .... Oh
Richard, I thought you were going to lynch me! ... .
The square inscribed on the hypothenuse of a right-angled
triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the other
two sides I wonder if Helen really cares very much
for the doctor, after all ... . There's the Kaiser! Boys,
let's go ... . Here's a letter. I'll read it. It says: 'What
are you fellows fighting us for? We're your friends!
We have no color line. Lay down your guns. Come over
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here. You are our brothers. You are fighting with your
enemies against your friends.' Shall I show it to the boys ?
No matter. They are true,
"Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land."
Thus was the flow of words between the forced rest
that first day and night. Helen learned from his own
lips a great deal about his outer and inner life.
The second day, Bob McComb opened his eyes and looked
into Helen's and a quick light of sane thought centered
there. He reached out his well hand and clasped hers.
"Helen," he said, "I knew it was you! You've saved
my life. I'm all right now. I've' found you, too."
"I'm so glad, Captain Bob, that you are better! You are
going to get well. But you mustn't talk. You must keep
quiet," Helen cautioned.
"All right, Nurse," said he and he closed his eyes and
was quiet for fully a half-hour. But his mind was work¬
ing. He was thinking and planning while he still held
her hand. She thought that he slept, and was just about
to withdraw her hand and move; away when he tightened
his grasp and opened his eyes.
"Helen," he said, "I will mind after while. I must talk
a little. Could you wait a few years ? I want to study law.
Then, when I get a start, will you, will you stay with me
always? I want you, Helen. Will you marry me? Oh,
I know I am not worthy. I've always known that, but—
but—Helen, now I've found you, I cannot give you up.
Will you, Helen?"
Helen bent her head. Then she stooped and gave him
a tiny kiss on the forehead.
"Y-e-s, Captain Bob," was her answer.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
77
A smile of supreme happiness lighted his face, and as
the two looked into each other's eyes with fast beating
hearts and clasped hands a shout was heard outside.
"The armistice has been signed! The war is over!" It
was repeated in French and in English over and over. There
were hurrying footsteps, and hurrahs that must have
reached to Heaven.
But within the hospital there was quietness and a great
peace. The conflict there was over, too, in two hearts;
two souls were united forever.
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CHAPTER XII
Homeward Bound
"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land.
This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon."
By the time Bob's company was ordered home he was
able to go with them. The doctors thought the voyage
would not hurt him, and the sea air would be invigorating.
Helen, however, would not hear of his going unless she
could go, too. So she applied "for release. There were very
few, comparatively, new cases coming in, so her desire was
granted. In a few day's they would leave for Brest, where
Captain Bob would rejoin his company. The last few days
were spent almost altogether out in the open, where Bob
sat for long hours looking at the desolate and yet beautiful
scenery. Helen stayed with him all she could. She was
much in demand; for, although she had her release, some¬
one was almost constantly calling for her. A nurse wanted
help, wanted advice, or a patient must see Miss Adams.
Bob was inclined to be a little impatient. He was sick,
too. She was his nurse, his—everything, and they had no
business calling her from him like that.
One day he was permitting himself to murmur because
Helen left him alone again. He said nothing aloud, how¬
ever, and was sitting with his eyes closed, wishing for
Helen, when he heard a sweet girlish laugh. It was too
thin a voice for Helen's, hers was rich and full, but it had
something of the same sweetness in it and he looked up
eagerly. NO! it was a beautiful French girl that stood
before him. She was looking at him with appreciative
interest.
"Pardon, monsieur, I did not wish to wake you," she said
in excellent English. "Indeed, I did not see you when
LET MY PEOPLE GO
79
I laughed. I was just reading a letter from my sweet¬
heart. He's safe and will be home soon. I had not heard,
I thought I should see him no more. Then I saw you.
Are you hurt, brave American?"
"Oh, no, mademoiselle; that is, not much. And I have a
sweetheart, too. She's in there; she's my nurse," said
Bob with frank simplicity. The sympathetic face made him
say it.
"Isn't that grand!" said Miss French, seating herself on
the grass in front of him. "Tell me about her, please."
So Bob entertained the lady and made himself happy
talking about Helen, telling how he had known her in
school, how he had lost her, and then how he had waked up
from his horrid sleep and she was bending over him, and
how they were going back to America—great America!—
together, and how they were to be married some day.
The little French lady listened with sparkling eyes. Then
she told him about her poilu, how he had gone to fight for
beloved, beautiful France, how he had been wounded, had
recovered, and gone again to the front; and then she had
been sorrowful, she said, for she could not hear, and it
had been so long—two whole weeks since she had had a
letter, and she thought surely he had been killed by the
cruel boches. But she was mistaken! He was alive and
he was coming home tomorrow! She stopped and laughed
again.
"And, brave soldier," she continued, "you have helped to
save my beautiful France. If it had not been for you, my
poilu might have been killed. Thank you, Captain. I see
you are a captain. Will you shake hands with me ? I must
be going now."
Bob arose with the help of his crutches, and took her
hand.
"Good-by," he said, "you are a kind and beautiful
mademoiselle. I wish you much joy."
She went, and Bob sat down, closed his eyes, and rested
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LET MY PEOPLE GO
his head on the pillow. He was tired. He heard the girl's
voice again far away, or was it a dream?
"Why, I didn't know there was any harm in that. He's
a soldier. Of course I wasn't acquainted with him, but he
was hurt fighting for my country, and I felt that I knew
him. Sure enough, I don't even know his name. Would
it be unladylike in America to do such a thing?" said
the voice.
Was he indeed dreaming? He opened his eyes. No, it was
she. She was some distance away, but her voice carried
well. Now he bent forward and listened intently to get
the answer. Ah! it was an American with whom she was
talking; he saw the khaki through the leaves. They were
standing under the drooping branches of a tree.
"It's not that, mademioselle," said the soldier, "you all
don't unduhstand ovuh heah. Ovuh theuh, ladies don't
talk to nigguhs, unless they be suhvants."
"Indeed! I don't like that name you call him. He's very
much of a gentleman and he's a soldier!" And the two
moved away.
The dark soldier bowed his head on his well hand and
presently two great tears trickled through his fingers.
Oh, no, he was not unmanly; he was weak still because
of his wounds, and he thought himself a child again,
holding a letter and resting on Mother's breast, and he
had just found out that there was such a difference in
people, and he heard Mother say again: "Don't mind them,
Bobby, be somebody, and they'll be ashamed!"
And thus Helen found him and reproached herself for
leaving him so long. He smiled bravely.
"You're tired, dear, I have come to call you to your
nap. I had a time getting away," she said.
"I guess I was tired, but I'm rested now since I see you,
I had an interesting talk with a French girl, though. Some¬
times, I wish our white people were more like these,
Helen."
LET MY PEOPLE GO
81
"I've thought of that. But some of them are just as
friendly."
Yes, I know. I forgot." And then he tried to dismiss
from his thoughts the Southern soldier.
One week after this they left the hospital for Brest.
Captain Comb gained in strength rapidly. He wanted
to throw away! his crutch before he entered the ship, but
Helen objected so strongly that he kept it, at least he
did until he saw his company coming, and then he stepped
forward so quickly he forgot it entirely, and it fell to the
ground. Helen picked it up.
"He'll need it on the ship," she thought.
Bob and his boys rejoiced together over the achieve¬
ments of the past, over the prospect of getting home, and
the boys rejoiced because of the safety of their beloved
Captain Bob. The weather was glorious. The ship was
crowded with white and colored soldiers, secretaries,
doctors and nurses.
Captain Bob was sitting on the deck alone. The boys
had left him for awhile, and Helen had gone to dress for
dinner. They had been out for a few hours.
"Hello there, Comrade. I thought it was you. I heard
you had fyeen killed! How are you, old chap?" said a
voice, and a hand was laid on his shoulder.
Bob looked up. The face he saw, he had seen just three
times before, and in quick succession the three scenes
passed before his mind. One was before a window of a
daily paper, another was in a crowded street-car, the
third was on the battlefield amid the groans of dying men.
He arose'and extended his hand, which was grasped
eagerly.
"Captain " began the stranger.
"McComb," finished Bob.
"Ah! Captain McComb, you saved my life once. I
wanted us both to live so I could thank you. And I acted
a cad twice with you. I wanted to live to ask forgiveness.
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Be seated, Captain. I am Captain Ridgway," said the
white officer.
Side by side the two officers sat, talking of the battles*
of the present situation, of the future. The call came to
dinner, but they were so interested in each other and in
their conversation that they did not hear. They arose
and went forward.
"This way, Captain," said the steward, addressing Cap¬
tain Ridgway.
"Come on, Captain McComb," said his friend.
"I beg your pardon, Captaiti McComb's table is over
there," and the steward pointed to a table occupied by
colored officers only.
"But Captain McComb's my buddy. We will lunch to¬
gether, today," the white officer insisted.
"Sorry, sir, but I have orders," answered the steward.
"Then come, Captain, we'll sit over there." And the
intrepid captain began to escort Bob to the table indicated
as "over there" by the steward.
"Sorry, Captain, but I have orders," repeated the steward,
catching the officer's arm.
"Suppose I'll have to swallow my own poison. Good-by,
Captain McComb, and God bless you! I'll see you again."
And Captain Ridgway walked away.
Captain Bob went to the table pointed out by the steward.
He did not feel bitterness in his heart, he found another
friend, and he could better bear insults; and, too, he saw
in the friendship an omen of good for his people. But when
he seated himself among the colored officers^ he found he
was in a hot bed of rebellion.
"Not goin' to stand it," said one. "This is a pretty way.
Jim-Crowed, are we?—and we soldiers of Democracy!"
"America leads the world in Democracy! Indeed!"
scoffed another.
"I fought for Uncle Sam, but he won't eat with mei"
complained a third.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
83
"Men, they're not Uncle Sam," protested Captain Bob.
"Let's be quiet. I don't believe those men mean anything
against us. I believe they feel like we're their brother-
officers. There's somebody else to blame."
So he tried to quiet them and thought his words had
some effect. They lapsed into silence, and the meal was
quickly finished.
The. afternoon was spent so pleasantly on the deck with
Helen that Bob forgot the ugly experience at the officers'
table. Toward mess time she left him to join the few
women on board. Evidently there was no line drawn
with them. They were staying together.
"I wis?i I'd asked Helen about her table," said Bob to
himself after she had gone. "I do hope the men will stand
it peaceably. I don't want any trouble. After all, it is a
downright shame!"
As if in answer to his thought, a voice spoke behind
him:
"I think it's ridiculous, those Negroes thinking they
could eat with us, just because they are officers!"
"Uncle Sam had better not let them come to war, they'll
get too uppish," put in another. "The next thing they'll
all want to be called 'Mister'."
"Yes, I think so, too. Or he ought to have put them in
the front so they'd all get killed," said another.
"Now, men, I think it's not right to talk that way about
the colored folks. They're good soldiers. And their folks
at home have been , more loyal than a lot of white people
in giving money to the Red Cross, and the Y work, and in
buying Liberty Bonds and War Saving Stamps. I suppose,
if Christ were here, he'd eat with them; but somehow I
can't bring myself to it," remarked another.
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The men passed on, and Bob arose and went on to the
mess hall with curious mingled feelings of pain, of resent¬
ment, and of sorrow.
"Yes," he said. "Christ would, and He is to conquer.
These are the convulsions of a dying cause. There will be
more before the spirit of prejudice dies."
When he came to the table he found that there were
several officers absent. At the same time he heard loud
talking, some cursing, and noises of hurrying footsteps,
and then a thud, thud of heavy bodies falling. The officers
looked at one another in apprehension. The men were
trying to gain admittance to the officers' table and there
was trouble. They arose and were on the point of start¬
ing to the scene of disorder when the colored officers came
in, some cursing, some with bloody marks as of a struggle,
and all angry.
They seated themselves sullenly, and ate rapidly between
growls.
In the morning the flag of the Infantry was gone.
The heroes were to land in'their native country and march
through the .streets of her cities without the flag they had
so nobly defended.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
85
CHAPTER XIII
Discharged
"Since then, at an uncertain hour,
My agony returns:
And till my ghastly is told,
This heart within me burns."
As the ship neared the harbor the Statue of Liberty rose
out of the sea, flashing the light of the morning sun back
upon the blue waves. The sea smiled back at her, then
laughed from sheer happiness. "The boys are coming
home! Ha! Ha! Liberty forever! Justice and Democ¬
racy for all! Ha! Ha!"
Captain Bob- and Helen Adams stood on the deck, side
by side.
"One thing is certain, dear," said he, "we'll be true, we'll
stand together. Old Miss Liberty may not mean all she
says now! But she will mean it. A new age is dawning,
anyhow. I feel the glory of its rising sun in my very soul.
And God, the God of Mother, has given me Helen
as a pledge—an earnest of good things to come to my
people, and as a sign that he is not down on the colored
folks."
Helen had decided to go back to St. Louis for the
present, and perhaps to wait for Bob there. He was to
enter school again as soon as possible after he was mus¬
tered out. Their plans were indefinite yet, they thought
they would wait a few years for their marriage. Bob had
to go see about the property in B , which was now his.
"I don't believe it would suit us, would it, Helen?" he
said.
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"Oh, no, no, Bob! Any place but Mississippi, please!"
answered she.
She could not bring herself to tell Bob of the great
tragedy in her life. He knew too many terrible things,
but she must not, could not ever consent to live in Missis¬
sippi, and she spoke quickly. Bob did not ask to know
anything she did not care to tell of her own accord. He
knew he could trust her.
"All right, dear, we'll never live in Mississippi. I'll sell
the property and use the money for the law," answered he.
The great ship docked. The soldiers formed in ranks.
Bob and Helen clasped hands and parted. She was to go
on at once to the West.
Bob and his company marched with the rest to Camp
Upton. In a few days he was ordered to take his company
to Camp J for discharge. Soon it was all over, and the
boys were on their way to their homes. They shed tears of
real sorrow1 in parting from their loved Captain. They
all promised to keep in touch with him and to remember
the lessons he had taught them, not only of military tactics
but also of real living, and to remember, too, that he had
told them how to die.
1 The Captain, upon discharge, at once took the train
for B to look up his small inheritance. He found the
deed properly recorded and the property more desirable
than he had anticipated. He advertised it in the papers,
and waited there. He could have left it in the hands of
an agent, but he needed to rest somewhere, and it was
not the time of year to enter school.
He found a room within sight and hearing of the waters
of the gulf. It was quiet and clean, though plain. Here
he stayed for several weeks, employing his time in writing
of his experiences in France, and of army life. Then he
made excursions to the gulf, sitting for long seasons on
the sand watching the blue waters dancing in the sunlight.
He made many life-plans, plans with Helen in them, of
LET MY PEOPLE GO
87
course. They were plans for the largest service possible
for his people.
He wished to get into a law office if possible, so while
waiting, he wrote for advice to a lawyer of color whose
name he happened to see in a Chicago paper.
At last the property was sold at a good figure. The same
day he received an answer from the lawyer of Chicago.
It was a letter of encouragement. Mr. Bond not only gave
him all the needed information, but asked him to come
into his office at once, offering the use of his library. His
ietter read in part:
I am glad to help a young soldier thus, and in
doing so I feel that I am doing a little to pay the
debt which I, as other American citizens, owe to
the army which made such a splendid record in
France. I judge, too, that the favors will not be on
one side only, but that young brains will be life
quickening to this office. So come at your earliest
convenience, Mr. McComb.
So Captain Bob decided to go at once to Chicago. He
joyfully closed up the sale and received his money, changing
it at once for a New York draft. This was on Saturday
afternoon, so he returned to his room to wait until Monday,
not caring to travel on the Sabbath if it could be avoided.
It was two o'clock when he awoke with a start! The cold
perspiration covered his forehead! What was the matter?
He sat up in bed, listening intently. At first he could hear
nothing. Then he discerned a murmur of voices. It seemed
to be under his window.
"She's mad, you say ? Never mind, lay it on the iiigguh!"
"Sho, I nevuh thought of that! You'll help me, pal, won't
you? Yes, theh's the nigguh Sal. We'll bring huh in. I
write like a woman, you know, Bill. Rastus can't write,
Sal can. We'll say Ras got Sal to write the letter! I've got,
to get off, Bill. I want that gul mighty bad! Wish I'd had
sense enough to go slow!"
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"Nevuh you mind, pard. Let's go now and get witnesses.
Mum's the word about you. I'll get Phil. Got a fivush? He'll
do it! Hates nigguhs anyhow, and wuks alongside Ras.
Come on."
The voices grew fainter. The persons were moving away.
Captain McComb arose and dressed mechanically. He
did not know what he could do. The persons were all un¬
known to him, even their names were unknown. Besides,
he was a Negro. His word would not be taken against that
of white people, even of that type. Nevertheless he could
not be there. Something terrible was going to happen to
one of his black brothers. And he could not help him! He
knelt and prayed for he knew not what. All was confusion
in his mind, his prayer was simply a cry of despair. Then
as the first grey rays of the Sabbath dawn appeared in the
east and peeped in at his kneeling figure, he was enabled to
frame into words the anguish of his soul.
"O God! for the sake of our oppressed fathers and
mothers who kept the faith, suffer not my poor people to be
forever under such as these!"
Then quickly an answer seemed to come:
"Jliough he tarry, wait."
He walked out of his room, down the narrow stairway
and into the street. He could hear the. waves of the gulf
beating upon the sands and could feel the cool morning
breezes from the waves. He took off his cap (he was still
in uniform), and let God's breeze bathe his forehead.
As he turned his steps toward the center of the town, he
saw a crowd of men were moving into the square about two
blocks ahead. And, O God!—they had a Negro, surely.
There were two of them. One of them was a woman.
It looked as though they were being led or forced along.
And the man was in uniform! The Captain hastened
his footsteps, though sick at heart with fear for his brother
and sister. He would find out, at least, what they were
going to do with them. He soon found out! In the center
of the square were two posts, and tlie men and boys were
LET MY PEOPLE GO
89
piling brush, old baskets, and trash of different kinds
around the post. As he came nearer he heard some of the
words spoken by the excited crowd.
"Here, Phil, take off that uniform before you do it. You
uns ortn't to buhn the unifahm!"
"Naw, no use. Who'd weah it? They'd no business givin'
a nigguh unifahm, nohow."
"Get the oil can, Sam. Heah, let's poah lots on em."
And they did!
Captain McComb rushed forward, crying:
"Stop that! These people are not guilty! I tell you, I
know!"
"Ha! Ha! Who be you? Get back theah, you
nigguh! We'll get you if you meddle !"
Two strong men grasped our Captain and pulled him back.
They were Negroes.
"Can't we do something, men?" asked he.
"No, Cap, it's no use to try," they answered.
"But they're not guilty of that, I know something about
that! O men, look! Can't we save them?" he shouted.
But the Negroes moved away, pulling the Captain with
them. As he looked back he saw flames leaping up and
heard an agonized cry, a scream of terror.
"Yes, I'll say anything. I had the letter wrote. But she
didn't do it. Please, please, let her go!"
But the woman's form was already covered with flames,
the man's head was on fire, and the cries were smothered
before the Negroes had reached to the house where the Cap¬
tain was rooming.
"We're all goin' to leave this place, Cap. 'Taint fit to stay
in," said one.
"Where is a place fit for us to stay in, men?" asked Cap¬
tain Bob as he rushed into the house.
He ran up the steps, threw his things into his suitcase,
rushed down the stairs, out into the street, and walked
rapidly to the depot. He found the next train out was due in
one hour. Anxiously, with lines of care on his young face,
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he paced up and down the space back of the depot until the
train came. As he entered the dingy coach, he heard many
feet passing. O God! they were going home from the
lynching! As he took his seat, a small voice piped just
below his window:
"Mammy, Mammy, gimme a piece of the nigguh's
finguh!"
The train pulled out and as it passed into the fields north
of the town, the church bells chimed from a half-dozen
steeples, and Sabbath stillness reigned in B
Captain Robert McComb, champion for his race and serv¬
ant of his country, rested his head wearily upon his arm.
The pain in the old wound shot from the arm through his
frame, and he thought of the boy whom he tried to save in
France and of the lonely grave, then of other lonely graves
"over there."
"Thank God, they are there instead of here," he said.
And the train moved northward in the Sabbath sunlight.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
91
CHAPTER XIV
The Cloud With a Silver Lining
"He plants His footsteps on the sea
And rides upon the storm."
Helen watched the soldiers march away, straining her
eyes to see as long as she could the figure of her own sol¬
dier. With a lightened heart she ordered her baggage sent
to the depot and wended her way into the crowded city.
She determined to start at once for St. Louis. She chose
a Southern route, because the trains by the other routes
were all gone for the day and she did not care to stay in
New York all night. True, she might have secured a sleeper
and started about midnight, but Helen was unused to
sleepers, and she was in a hurry to be off. She secured a
good seat, settled herself in the luxurious cushions, and
went to sleep. She would take advantage of this coach as
long as she could. At B , Virginia, she must enter the
Jim-Crow car, she knew.
She slept until the time for the change. She left the train
and entered the waiting-room. She found she had missed
her Western train and that she would have to wait several
hours. It was past midnight, and she reluctantly seated
herself in the little waiting-room assigned to the race, and
looked around. It was dark and dirty; the air was close, and
a great lonely feeling came over her. She wished she and
Bob didn't have to wait. She wanted him now. She took
from her bag a book she had bought on the way to the
station in New York. Soon she was lost to all surroundings,
so intensely interested was she in the reading.
Suddenly she was startled by a chorus of oaths and vile
language. A crowd of Negro men came into the waiting-
room. They were working men, miners, carrying dinner-
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pails. Evidently they had to take an early train. Their
clothes were black, greasy, and ill-smelling-. She drew her¬
self from them as far as possible, and tried to read on. The
odor of liquor and tobacco alone was unbearable, and the
vile talk continued. Some of the men, however, were quiet;
for they threw themselves down on the benches and floor
and slept heavily.
Two of the younger men began to notice Helen. She felt
that they were staring at her. She could stand it no longer,
so she got up and sauntered out of the room. She walked
to the other side of the depot. Glancing into the waiting-
room for whites, she found it vacant. It looked' comfort¬
able, and there was no one to enjoy it. What if she should
go in and sit down? Quickly she resolved to do so, and
seated herself in a corner of the room, again burying her¬
self in her book. The station-master came in, glanced at
her, and said nothing. A policeman looked in at the door,
saw her, and passed on.
Presently some white people came into the room and
seated themselves on the other side. For some minutes
they took no notice of her. Then she heard a child's voice.
"See, Daddy, theuh's a nigguh gul!"
"O John! Baby's right. How scandalous! Why do
they puhmit such things ? Do go and have huh sent out,"
said a woman's voice.
John evidently was used to obeying, for he rose at once
and left the room.
In a few minutes the station-master stood before Helen.
"Look here!" he began and then stopped for fully two
minutes. As Helen looked up, he instinctively took off his
hat and bowed. Then, as if regretting the action, he quickly
replaced his hat and continued: "This is the white waiting-
room! Didn't you understand?"
"I cannot stay in there with those men !" answered Helen.
"They're too rough."
"You're right. I'll speak to them and make them behave
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93
themselves. But you can't stay in here! I wouldn't mind
it, Miss, but people object," he explained.
'Very well," said Helen, rising at once and walking out
of the room.
The station-master went into the waiting-room for col¬
ored passengers and spoke to the men, telling them to stop
their talk, to sit up, and if they could not behave themselves,
to go outside.
They obeyed; those lying on the floor seated themselves,
and others stopped their vile talk. But Helen could not
make up her mind to go back into the close, tobacco-and-
alcohol-laden atmosphere of that room, and so she stood
outside, leaning against the wall until the train came.
She was glad to get a seat in the car. The men filled the
small apartment, but they soon arrived at the mines, and
Helen had few traveling companions.
Arriving at St. Louis, she went at once to the hospital and
renewed her friendship with the girls. They had a pleasant
time together. Helen told of her experiences while in army
service, all except that too closely connected with Robert
McComb. She had her trunk sent out to the hospital and
stayed there two days. It was not long, however, until she
was busy again. There was a call for a nurse from the
hospital; it was considered a very difficult case, and there
was none of the regular force competent yet to take the
place. The doctors knew Helen's capabilities and recom¬
mended her. Just before she went to the case, she received
a letter from Bob. He was then starting with his men to
Camp J . It was filled with love and hope. (
She found her place a large airy house on one of the
principal residence streets. The patient was a1 white child
of ten, who had typhoid fever. Helen had to be with her
almost constantly for three weeks. During those weeks
she received at least six letters from Bob, and she" knew
about his successes and pleasures in the South, but nothing,
of course, of the terrible tragedy he had witnessed. The
last letter stated that he would start on Monday morning
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for Chicago. That Sunday morning, which Bob spent in
such agony of soul, little Jenny was much better and able
to sit up in bed.
Helen went to church in the morning after she had cared
for her patient and made her comfortable for the day.
She left her with her mother. The sermon was excellent
and at the service Helen met some old friends and walked
home, thinking happily of the coming years as companion
and wife of Robert McComb. Ah, Helen! it was nearer than
you thought.
The next day she went to the hospital for an hour. The
crisis was past with the child, and she knew she could safely
leave her for some time now each day. She had a pleasant
time with the girls. During this call she told them of the
young officer who had been so near death's door and who
had recovered almost by a miracle. She was glad soon that
she had told them.
"Blest be the tempest, kind the storm,
Which drives me nearer home."
Helen was humming this over to herself as she ap¬
proached the mansion. There was a beautiful park with
flowers and trees and fountains in front of the residence.
She walked briskly up the path. Her patient must be ready
for her dinner and somebody might give her what she ought
not to have. She was not looking to left or right and did
not notice the form of her patient's father reclining on one
of the park benches. She was nearly to the steps when a
hand was laid upon her arm and she was dragged to the
shade of a large rosebush. She was terribly frightened. A
deathly pallor overspread her face and she trembled from
head to foot. She saw that it was the master of the house.
"Helen, darling, I love you. I must take you with me!"
whispered the man.
The strength of an Amazon seemed to come to her, and
she wrested herself from his grasp and gave him a push!
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95
Then she ran and gained the walk. As she did so she ran
against another man, who caught her in his arms and
pressed a kiss upon her lips. This time she did not struggle,
for through her tears she saw the dark, handsome face of
Robert McComb! Without a word, he turned and walked
to the gate, carrying his dearest girl. He hailed a passing
cab, ordered the chauffeur to take them to the Colored Hos¬
pital, placed Helen inside, and sprang'in himself.
"How did it happen, Bob, that you came?" asked Helen,
laughing and crying at the same time.
"I had to come North a day earlier. In fact, I hardly
know how I came to be on that train, but when the porter
called 'St. Louis,' I just felt that I must see you. I found
the address of your letters, so here I am," answered Bob,
taking off her hat and smoothing her hair. "And I have
made up my mind this minute, unless you say 'No!' that
you and I will never part till death. You're going with me
to Chicago, aren't you, dear? We'll make it, somehow, and
it shall be together after this."
"Oh, my Captain Bob, yes, I'll go now," answered Helen,
laying her head upon his shoulder, sobbing like a child.
At the hospital Helen telephoned to her patient's mother,
saying that she would not return. The lady did not seem
surprised. What had she seen from the window? Poor
woman! The janitor was sent after her suitcase, and Helen
received by himi the amount due for her services. Bob went
out into the city and made arrangements for something
very important. He returned for lunch at the hospital.
"In the morning at ten. I can't get everything ready
until then," he said after lunch. "Rest now. I will come
for you then."
"Yes, dear," answered Helen happily.
She retired at once and slept, and arose refreshed and
smiling.
"This is my wedding day!" she said.
Then she committed to God the new life upon which she
was entering, dressed, and went down to breakfast.
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Promptly at ten Bob came and brought with him a clergy¬
man, pastor of the church Helen had attended in St. Louis.
In the private parlor, surrounded by nurses, the servants,
and all patients who were able to be brought from their
rooms, Helen Adams became Mrs. Robert McComb.
Amid showers of rice and old shoes, Captain McComb
and his bride entered the cab, were driven to the depot,
and, after checking their baggage, boarded a train for Chi¬
cago, the happiest two people in the whole world.
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97
CHAPTER XV
The Great; City
"Dear is the memory of our wedded lives."
The train moved northward, the hills disappeared, and
great stretches of level lands came into view. Mr. and
Mrs. McComb, a great many times they repeated this softly
and laughed together a little happy laugh, looked at the
changing scenery.
"How beautiful everything is!" said the bride of a few
hours. "What a beautiful world!" We're riding just like
other people, too!"—quoting:
"O Captain, my Captain,
The fearful trip is done!"
"Oh, no, Helen, the trip has just begun—our journey of
life," contradicted Bob.
The happy day passed, and then they could see the farm¬
houses no longer. Still the great train rumbled on.
"Look, Helen," said Bob. "We shall soon enter the city."
The lights of the city twinkled in the distance, coming"
nearer and nearer. The train passed into Chicago, it was
passing into Chicago for a long time, and at la-Jt stopped
in the great central station.
They were somewhat bewildered in the great scurrying-
crowd as they alighted from the train.
"We'll hunt up the lawyer the first thing in the morning,
Helen, and we'll board a few days, then we'll get light-
housekeeping rooms as near to the office as we can," said he.
"All right, Captain Bob," answered his wife. "I'd like
furnished rooms right away tomorrow. But I'm going to
make money and get some furniture, and help. You must
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lake care of your money. There are many months ahead
of us before you'll have a case, you know."
"Yes, to part of your speech and perhaps to all of it, we'll
see. I didn't want you to have it hard. That is the reason
I thought we'd wait," said he.
"But how much better this is! You did not know how
much I needed you, nor how much I wanted you either,"
said Helen.
"We'll trust God and do our best, dear; it had to be this
way. I couldn't leave you down there," said he, as he
turned to ask directions of a policeman.
They found they were a long distance from the great
Negro settlement, so found a nearby small hotel and waited
there until morning. They had no trouble in securing a
good room and breakfast.
Early in the morning they boarded a car, then another and
another, and finally found themselves near the place desig¬
nated on the card Bob held. Multitudes of genteel colored
people were rushing along.
"What's their hurry, I wonder?" said he. "Well, I sup¬
pose we'll soon be going at that rate. I know we look like
country people, as we are. Hello, Helen, there's our friend
the lawyer's office."
Mr. Bond welcomed them kindly, with a broad, good-
humored smile.
"Ah, Mr. McComb, you did not tell me of your better
half," said he.
"I neglected to mention her," answered Mr. McComb,
endeavoring to look as though he had been married for
years. "My wife is a nurse, and was busy when I wrote.
However, after your kind reply to my inquiries, we. decided
to settle in Chicago while I am studying."
"That's right, Mr. McComb. You should not be sepa¬
rated, and there is a great demand for nurses in the city.
Tf housekeeping duties do not confine your wife too closely,
I feel sure she will be kept busy with the sick," answered
the lawyer.
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99
'Indeed, Mr. Bond," said Helen, "I wish not to give up
my profession for the present. My housekeeping duties
will not be arduous."
"Well, Mr. Bond, we'll go now and get settled and
tomorrow I'll come in. Good-day," said Bob.
"Good-day, sir, I'll expect you," answered the lawyer.
"By the way, if you understand typing, I can pay you a
small salary at once."
"Indeed! That is better than I expected. Yes, sir, I
can type."
"Very well, we'll settle that tomorrow."
Mr. and Mrs. McComb went from the office encouraged.
Then they went to a cafe and lunched, looking over a
newspaper to see what there was in the way of apart¬
ments. Finding several advertisements of furnished rooms,
they started out to secure a place. They found a delight¬
ful suite overlooking the lake and soon were settled. Bob
went back to the station and sent up their baggage, then
visited the market, and before night they were house¬
keeping.
"This is glorious, Helen! I wonder I did not think of
doing this way at first," said Bob.
"God was guiding us, Bob," answered Helen.
That was the beginning of three most delightful years.
They were both busy and happy, and not only made both
ends meet but kept laying away some money for a home
some day. Of course, Helen bore a large part of the
expenses, as Bob's salary was not large, and they both
desired to save his small inheritance until a greater
emergency.
With the years came strength, culture, and determi¬
nation.
It was nearing the end of the McCombs' stay in Chicago.
The law course was nearly finished, and they were consid¬
ering where they should locate. They were sitting in the
park one summer evening, discussing this matter, when
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something happened to call up the past with vividness to
Mr. McComb, and to help decide for them.
"I believe we'll just stay in Chicago, Helen. Mr. Bond
made me the formal offer today. I thought he intended
doing so. And he has a good practice. Says he's getting
old and needs me to help in the cases and to take some.
He's not old. I believe he's just lazy. But it's a fine open¬
ing. I'm so used to the office now, I'd feel lost anywhere
else, and I guess I could make good here, if anywhere.
What do you say, Helen?"
"Now, Bob, you know I want to leave it with you. I
like it better here than in the South. I have some unpleas¬
ant recollections of the South. We'll be happier here. But,
somehow, Bob, I don't feel quite right about staying here.
I hardly know why. I wonder if that call of yours by the
little church when you were in school has anything to do
with it? You know you promised God to be a leader of
the people, and most of the people are in the South."
"Yes, Helen, I have always felt that there was some¬
thing big for me to do. And it may be you are right about
the South. But, you know, the way to do big things is to
•do little ones, and perhaps the little ones are fractions of
the big one, and when they are all finished, the big one
will be finished, too."
"Good, Bob, that's just what I think about it. You know
1 used to think that you were a sort of a dreamer, but
that was quite a practical remark."
"Oh, I've learned to be practical from you, dear. God
knew I needed more sense, so he gave me a whole brain-
ful inside of your dear head," answered her husband.
"Now, Bob," protested Helen. "You know I think you
are a genius—the greatest man God ever made."
"Now stop; if it weren't you, I'd be conceited. I see
you're still blind," said Bob.
"Well, there's some truth in what I think about you,"
Helen returned. "And as for the dreaming part, no one
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101
•ever did anything worth while who never dreamed it out
first Oh, look over there, Bob, how that woman and girl
are looking at us! I've been noticing them for some time.
Do you know them?"
Bob turned and looked in the direction indicated and
as he did so, he gave an exclamation of surprise and joy,
and sprang to his feet.
"It's Aunt Martha, I do believe. Come on, dear, and
let's see," answered Bob.
The instant Mr. and Mrs. McComb started forward, the
woman, who was dressed in deep black, rushed forward
with great excitement.
"Little Bob, Mr. Bob—it sho is you!" cried the older
woman.
"Aunt Martha, where did you come from?" asked Bob.
"Come from Gahgia whah you come from. How long
you been here? I hasn't seen you for evuh so long. My!
how you've growed!" Aunt Martha exclaimed.
"I've been here three years, Aunt Martha, and this is
my wife," said Bob.
"My compliments, Mrs. Bob, and how've you been?"
acknowledged Aunt Martha.
"And where is little Martha?" Bob asked, as he turned
and looked questioningly at the fourteen-year-old girl
with Aunt Martha. '
"Poor Martha, she's gone," said Aunt Martha, with a
sob, while the girl beside her lifted her handkerchief to her
eyes with dainty grace. "This, Mr. Bob, is her daughter;
Martha, this is Mr. Bob McComb, of whom I have told you
so much."
The girl lifted her beautiful eyes to Bob, held out a
shapely white hand, and smiled, showing a row of pearly
ieeth. The wind blew soft brown curls over her pink
•cheeks, kissing the rosebud mouth. She was bewitching,
and knew it.
"Delighted, I'm sure, to meet Mr. Bob," she said softly.
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"Yes," went on Aunt Martha, "after Martha died, me an'
her decided to come to Chicago as so many folks done
come. We moved everything. We're living on C Street.
Carry yo wife ovuh to see us. I want to have a talk wid
you! I'd be so proud to have you."
Bob glanced at the girl and caught a gleam of hatred
from those shining eyes. It was but for an instant; she
had not intended to show it, for she smiled beautifully and
said in a sweet voice:
"Yes, indeed, Mr. Bob; you and Mrs. Bob come.
Grandma's friends are my friends." And she laughed a
rippling laugh.
But the gleam Bob had recognized, and it made his heart
heavy. But how could she feel it? A drop of Negro blood
makes a Negro. That moment a white woman in a
limousine swept by. The machine passed so near that they
instinctively moved to escape, though there was no dan¬
ger really. Again he looked at the girl and saw the gleam
of prejudice darting at the woman in the limousine.
"What a strange creature! Who and what are you?"
he asked himself. He looked at Aunt Martha, and he saw
that her face was seamed into ^ a hundred wrinkles and
her hair was white as snow. She had suffered every min¬
ute since he had known her. And he remembered the
scene at the cabin doof when he, a young boy, had wiped
away the tears from the dear old face. He remembered,
too, her words:
"When you grow up, Bob, and learn lots you are going
to in college, do something to help the girls."
Meanwhile Helen, who had seen the abstraction which
she had become used to, with a woman's love and quick
wit had won the heart of the aged grandmother and had
elicited from Martha a look of admiration. She guided
the party to seats, while Bob followed mechanically, the
weight of the sorrows of the womanhood of his race rest¬
ing upon him.
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103
They sat for a short time only, for the shadows of eve¬
ning were stealing across the park. As Bob and Aunt
Martha talked of old times, Helen and young Martha
chatted of the present and the future.
As Mr. and Mrs. McComb sat that evening in the little
suite, they were silent for some time. Then Bob said:
"Helen, my wife, this is the problem of the ages. Who
is equal to it?"
"None but God, dear. Let us ask Him to solve it and
lead us," was Helen's response.
Soon after this Bob passed the examinations success¬
fully and was admitted to the bar. Mr. Bond again offered
him a partnership. He refused to accept the honor, but
offered to stay for a while until certain cases were dis¬
posed of, and to take the entire responsibility of a few
minor cases to relieve his friend. He had a feeling of
unrest, that his field of labor was beyond, and he must be
ready to move on.
The minor cases referred to were civil cases and were
soon settled. Bob now insisted that Helen should not
nurse any more. They had managed so well that they had
still a few hundred dollars ahead and owned the furniture
for their small flat.
Mr. Bond had an important case on hand, upon which
he had worked long and hard. At last it was to come up
for trial. Tjhe young lawyer was much interested in the
success of the case. He had helped hunt up the evidence
and had read everything he could find on the subject, in
addition to looking up all legal precedent applicable to
the cause. He thought the time would come when he
might have just such a case. It came sooner than he had
anticipated. On the morning when the trial was to take
place, Mr. Bond was unable to leave his room. He was
taken with appendicitis, and the doctors insisted upon an
immediate operation. It was the only chance to save his
life, they said. He was in despair, and sent for Bob.
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Between groans he gave him instructions as to how to
handle the case.
"Don't you worry, Mr. Bond," said Bob cheerfully; "we'll
win."
And he left his employer's house, whistling. But no
sooner was he out of sight and sound than a look of
anxiety came over his countenance.
Before going to the court-room, he went to the flat to
get encouragement from the never-failing fountain of
inspiration.
"Never fear, Bob, I have faith in you. Don't you remem¬
ber how you turned that mob back when you were in
school? And you know the secret of it," said Helen.
"Yes, dear," said Bob, "and if I win today, I'll set up for
myself—or we'll set up for ourselves, I mean. You're the
better lawyer of the two."
And he did win. In a speech of one hour and a half, he
so carefully stated facts and so painstakingly referred to
precedent and so eloquently appealed to the reason of the
jurors, that, after a conference of but fifteen minutes, they
gave in a verdict for his client.
He rushed home and took Helen by the arm and danced
around the room just as he had that day Mr. Carson had
said that he could go to school.
"Do let me go, Bob, I'm out of breath. If you don't, I'll
not be partner in your law firm! There!" said she, sit¬
ting down in a rocker and fanning herself vigorously. "I
knew you could do it. And if you could get outside of the
world and give it a boost, I think it would go faster."
Then Bob knew that in school days Helen Adams had
been in private conference with Miss Rainer.
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105
CHAPTER XVI
On the Move
"Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire
And shook his very frame for ire,
And—'This to me !' he said."
Immediately upon the recovery of Mr. Bond, Bob ten¬
dered his resignation, which was reluctantly accepted.
Then he and Helen packed the furniture they possessed,
adjusted their affairs in Chicago, and made all arrange¬
ments to go to the South. Their rich tenor and alto min¬
gled in "Way Down South in Dixie," as they completed
packing their trunks. They had decided to settle in the
county seat of the very county where little Bob had been
carried into the woods and left in a lonely cabin because
he wouldn't tell. But, ah! Bob and Helen! The road was
longer than you thought, and the time was far distant
before you reached Dixie and then—
"We'll stay over Sabbath with the Ransoms," said Helen.
"I really like them better than the Longs, though I
shouldn't want the Longs to know. It's nice to have such
good friends, Bob. I wonder if we shall find them in
Georgia. I suppose we won't find many well-educated
people there. But I'm glad we're going. I think we're
doing right."
"So do I," answered Bob. "We must do the very most
that we can for our people. Of course, as Mr. Bond says,
there are plenty of people here who need help, if that's
what we are after, but there are plenty of helpers, too.
We're needed there more. I feel sure. And, Helen, I still
have a feeling that those best white people of the South,
when they wake up to the facts and really know the intel-
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ligent colored people, will stand by us—I mean all of us,
and not only will not hinder, but will join in to help us raise
the masses and get them their rights. Oh, yes; I know
there is still a large lawless element, prejudiced and
wicked, but there are not so many of those people as there
were. I don't forget Mr. Carson and people like him.
Besides, the women are taking an interest in public affairs
now, and when educated, good women, with their fine
instincts, take hold of affairs, there'll be a change. There i
that's the last strap and there's the transfer. Get your
grip ready, Helen, and as soon as I settle for the trunks,
we'll go over to the Ransoms. It looks too lonely in these
dear little rooms."
They spent very pleasant hours at their friends', con¬
versing about their good times when in the city together.
"By the way, Ransom, don't forget to look out for Aunt
Martha. I didn't think it best for her to go back just
now. There's the girl! I really believe it's better for her
here. Don't think Aunt Martha could get her to go back.
She's enjoying herself too well here. I think she has a
dozen 'fellows' as she calls them. Look after Aunt Martha
until the end, and' if she's determined to go back, at least
make her stay until we get settled," said Bob.
"All right, McComb; my wife'll not forget her. Don't
worry," answered Mr. Ransom.
Mrs. Ransom and Helen were having a very confidential
chat in an adjoining room. They were looking over a
trunk of small clothes. Everything was quiet in that part
of the city, and Sabbath stillness reigned.
"Now, Ella, don't! This hurts^ou," said Helen, for Mrs.
Ransom was crying.
"Oh, don't mind me. It does me good to cry. When you
get settled, I'm going to ship the trunk to you," Mrs. Ran¬
som sobbed.
For answer Helen threw her arms around Mrs. Ran¬
som's neck and cried with her. They were both startled
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107
by the firing of a gun directly under the window. Mrs.
Ransom silently locked the trunk, while Helen preceded
her into the other room. Mr. Ransom was at the tele¬
phone.
"Ransom. What did you say? Boy drowned! Didn't
they arrest the white ruffian? Indeed! How many?
Thousands! What are they trying to do? God help us!"
And Mr. Ransom let the receiver fall.
Mr. McComb seized the receiver.
"Police Station? Why didn't you arrest that fellow at
the beach? Why don't you do it now? Well, it's not too
late to do the right thing, whatever else is going on.
Indeed!"
And Bob dropped the receiver.
"Ransom, what is best to do? Could we help?" asked he.
"Possibly so and probably not. What would the girls
do? The people are arming all over the city, and to w^iat
part of the city should we go? There's liable to be more
shooting right here,".answered Mr. Ransom.
"That fellow was taken up by the police just now. There
they go with him," said Bob.
"Do whatever you think best, boys," urged Helen, "we're
not afraid."
"No, indeed," said Mrs. Ransom. "We'll stay right here
and bar the windows and doors."
But she was trembling from head to foot.
Bob and Helen looked at her and then looked at one
another. After a gaze of half a minute into those wells
of wisdom, Bob answered:
"I think, Ransom, we had better stay here. Ring the
Secretary, please—or I will, with your leave."
"Mr." S ? I suppose you're very busy. I am sorry to
trouble you. I am starting South tomorrow, or intended
to. Is there anything I can do? . . . . Yes, I see.
. Washington? .... Why yes. I could.
Tickets are not bought yet ... . Certainly. . . .
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Yes, in the morning at eight .... if nothing serious
happens to detain me. . . . All right. Good-by." And
McComb replaced the receiver.
"Helen," he continued, "how about going through Wash¬
ington? The Secretary of the N. A. A. C. P. wants us to."
"Certainly, Bob," answered Helen. "An evening train,
I suppose, instead of a morning train?"
"Yes, I'm going to see Mr. S. in the morning. I do hope
this is not as serious as it seems."
But it was serious enough, and it was four days before
they could get out of the city.
All know the story of the Chicago riot. It is a story of
wild shooting, of overturned street cars, of groans of
women and children and of dying men, of excesses of both
sides, of the French Revolution over again, of the Hun
atrocities transferred to Chicago, a taste of what war
between races would mean. Are we not God's children all ?
And is not the human race one? Let us teach the unity
of the human race to the coming generation, that our chil¬
dren may not have to pass through such a hell as that.
At last there was quietness in the great city, but squads
of soldiers were stationed at different points in the "Black
Belt" and near it, and martial law was declared. The wild
voices of mobs were hushed by force of arms, and the
hand of the law was upon the city.
Mr. and Mrs. McComb started on their journey with
heavy hearts, but sure now of one mission at least.
"Bob," said Helen, "this will terminate in war, and then
what?"
"Helen, that doesn't sound like you. I do not think so.
Think of all the good white people in the country, and of
the great numbers of sane, educated colored folks,"
answered Bob.
"Yes, Bob," agreed Helen, "I guess I'm nervous. I'll
never forget seeing that young woman and baby killed,
and part of her body was carried on a pole all around.
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109
What in all history more horrible than that ever hap¬
pened ? And in America!"
And she shuddered and covered her face with her hands.
"I shall never forgive myself for not sparing you that
sight, somehow, my poor little girl," said Bob, taking her
hand. "I think the greatest grievance we have now is the
memory of the mistreatment of our boys by white officers
while in France. We expected to be treated with as much
respect as white soldiers. Of course, personally, I have no
cause of complaint, but many things occurred that I never
knew about until I came home."
"I heard much about the riot in East St. Louis. This
seemed more like battles. My! how our folks fight when
they get started!" said Helen.
"Yes," answered Bob. "That's been proved before, and
they don't know how to stop very well, either. They don't
know defeat. It was so with my boys in France. I tell
you, Helen, this is but the mutterings of a great storm of
protest from 12,000,000 of us. We thought the war would
give us recognition as Americans, and it failed. What the
end will be God only knows."
"Bob, I don't think your thoughts are very consistent.
Sometimes you reprove me for being pessimistic, and then
you are more so," said Helen.
"Well, that's just the way I feel. Sometimes I do get
clear down. Things look pretty bad just now. Then, I
think of all our folks who do the right thing always; why,
they're bound to have their reward. They're so loyal, too,
even with the memory of years of mistreatment. Again, I
cannot help but hope the whites will do the right thing.
Maybe they'll help get us recognition to keep us from being
amalgamated; some people think that is the only solution
of the Negro problem," said Bob, with a laugh. "I don't
want to amalgamate; I want to take my place in the
Democracy as a colored man, with emphasis on both col¬
ored and man. I am going to get a conference with the
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President himself, if possible. Mr. S. did not hope for that
and did not ask me to try, but I shall."
"That's right. I hope and pray you may, Bob."
"Mrs. Robert McComb, you surely are an inspiration
to me," said her husband.
Just then a little white child toddled past, tumbled, and
fell. Helen sprang and caught the screaming child, took
her upon her lap and quieted her. She was a beautiful,
blue-eyed child of three.
"Pitty lady, take me to Mama," pleaded the little one.
"All right, dearie; but you'll have to take me, I think. I
do not know the way," answered Helen.
Together they went down the aisle, th£ tiny girl pulling
Helen along to her Mama. The lady smilingly thanked
Helen, and then—offered her a quarter.
"Oh, thank you. I do not care for your money," said
Helen as she walked away.
"Bob, she's horrid—the mother of that sweet baby!
And to think she'll make the baby just like herself!"
"Helen, you must remember that many of our people
would have taken it. Do you know that the 'tip' system
makes people think less of us, and makes us think less of
ourselves? We're not all alike. I wish they would learn
to discriminate. Excuse me, I am going into the next car
to talk to some of the men. The more information I can
get the better."
As Bob passed the lady and the child, he heard the baby
say:
"Look, Mama, there's the pitty lady's Daddy."
Bob smiled to himself and thought how he could tell
Helen that she had married a man too old.
"And," continued the child, "the pitty dark lady's name
is Mrs. Robert McComb. I heard him say so!"
"Indeed!" answered the lady, "I didn't know she had a
name."
LET MY PEOPLE GO
111
Bob s heart sank within him. But there was another
clue.
They teach their children to think we are not human,"
he said bitterly, "and we teach ours to bow down to them
and hate them, too. How have people come up to their
rights in the past, other than by rebellion ? Let me study."
A great wave of thought was surging through his mind.
"Germany tried, Japan may try, the people are getting
desperate, will they rebel? No, a thousand times NO!
It must not come to that! Yes, there is a way; I'll write
the Secretary about it if the Government fails us now. If
they'd only punish all alike for offenses against the law,
and if they wouldn't draw the race line so tightly! I'm
glad those fellows helped the police. Wish I had been
there."
Mr. McComb interviewed a number of men, white and
colored, and had a volume of notes. He had an address in
a fairly good outline by the time they left the train.
Leaving Helen at a hotel, he walked down the street, to
plan his campaign. He saw the Capitol and White House
for the first time. He wanted to get familiar with the sur¬
roundings. Then he walked back toward the hotel to be
quiet for the rest of the day. He hoped also to receive
information and plans from Mr. S. by the next day. In
crossing a crowded street he barely escaped being run over
by an automobile. He then saw another coming at full
speed and a rather large lady crossing in front of it. She
did not seem to see the machine. Instinctively he turned
to hurry her. She was surely going to be hurt, perhaps
killed, if something were not done! She still came slowly.
In desperation he took her arm and pulled her out of harm's
way. Then he lifted his hat. He was startled by a pierc¬
ing scream from the lady and a frantic call for the police.
Then he saw that she was afraid of his dark face.
"Madam," he said, "do not be startled. I was only sav-
ing your life."
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A policeman was on the spot in a moment. Mr. MoComb
explained the matter to him and a bystander testified to
the truth of the matter, and he was allowed to go his way.
"Ah, I see," he said; "they teach their girls to be afraid
of us. Well, there are some colored men I wouldn't dare
to let Helen meet alone, and there are many white men I
wouldn't dare to let her meet alone. My poor black
brothers may be bad enough, some of them, but very few
have no more sense than to attack a white woman. That
thing is greatly exaggerated. Now, look at this example!
Huh—I'll put that in the plea."
Bob went to the hotel, rested, conferred with Helen, and
wrote. He telephoned his address to the post office, for he
was expecting a special from the Secretary.
The next morning he was startled by flaring headlines
in the morning paper, of attempted assaults on white
women in certain sections of the city and of pursuit of
Negroes by mobs composed partly of soldiers. A riot was
imminent. They had escaped from one to run into another.
"Helen, I must investigate some of these charges before
I go further," said Bob. "Wait here quietly for me. Please
don't venture out without me. Promise, dear."
"All right, Bob. I'll try to get the remainder of those
notes in shape for you. I must help," answered his wife.
Mr. McComb spent several hours in those^parts of the
city where the assaults were said to have taken place. He
found hiding in a cabin a half-witted Negro who had a
brutish face. He was a criminal, no doubt, but he could
get no confession from Jiim. This was almost a relief, for
he would have been compelled to give him up and he had
no hopes of his safety in the hands of the law, even in
Washington. Giving his card as representative of the N. A.
A. C. P., he tried to gain access to some of the male rela-
lives of an alleged victim, but police patrolled the place
and warned him away. Some distance from this place he
LET MY PEOPLE GO
113
saw a white boy of ten hurrying with a basin of water
down an alley. He hardly knew why he followed. It
seemed no clue, but he did follow. The child entered a
tumbled-down cabin, which he supposed had been a Negro
dwelling but now seemed deserted. As the door opened to
admit the boy, a pair of black hands reached for the basin
and the door was closed. Mr. McComb cautiously stooped
and looked through the keyhole. The black man was turn¬
ing white by means of the water in the basin, and the boy
was looking on. Mr. McComb turned and walked rapidly
away. Here indeed was a clue.
"That explains some of this deviltry," he said.
As he emerged into the street he picked up a piece of
paper folded neatly. He opened and read. It was a warn¬
ing to the Governor of Georgia, telling him very emphati¬
cally to stop the lynching or he would be murdered, his
days were numbered. This Mr. McComb surrendered to
the police, and went back to the hotel.
The next day the city was in a ferment of excitement.
Riot calls came from many parts of the city. Mr. and
Mrs. McComb remained quietly in their room for the day,
getting all notes in order for the appeal.
The following day Mr. McComb went to the White
House at the hour in which he had ascertained that the
President and Cabinet would be in conference. He sent
in his card with a letter of introduction from the Secretary
of the N. A. A. C. P. He was admitted and permitted to
address them at length. He recited the grievances of his
people, turning and overturning evidence he had gathered,
and wound up with an eloquent appeal for recognition of
his people as American citizens.
"In the name of liberty I come for my people. Let us
not be different. Punish us by law if we commit crime.
Do not bar us from the polls because of color. Let there
114
LET MY PEOPLE GO
be discrimination along educational lines for both races
alike. Give us a better chance for education in the South.
Take us out of the alleys, and give us air. Do away with
Jim Crow cars and segregation in public places. Speak of
the virtues of the American Negro as well as of his faults.
As the representative of 12,000,000 people, I ask for justice
and brotherhood," was his peroration.
And they answered him not a word.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
115
CHAPTER XVII
Sammie Carrol in the Clutches of the Law
"Yet that scaffold sways the future:
And behind the dim unknown
Standeth God within the shadow,
Keeping watch above His own."
As Mr. McComb emerged from his hotel on the next
morning, a policeman was passing, having in charge a
young Negro. The officer and the arrested young man
were heavily guarded on all sides. They were followed by
a mixed multitude, crowding and jostling one another.
Bob joined the crowd and inquired of a tall colored man
the cause of the arrest.
"Started the riot, they say. Assaulted a white girl.
Huh! Don't believe it. I've known the kid all my life. A
smart youngster, in high school. Mother, a widow trying
to keep him in school. Sunday-school kid. Sells papers to
help," said the man.
"How old is he?" asked Mr. McComb.
" 'Bout fifteen—large for his age," answered the
informer.
"Will you give me his name, that of his mother, and also
his address?" asked Mr. McComb, who was especially
touched by the information already obtained, it was so like
his own early life.
"Certainly. Sammie Carrol, 249 East Sixth Street.
Mother commonly called Gertrude Carrol. Mrs. Johnson
Carrol, she was. She's been a widow ten years. Think
she's a good woman. Anyhow, she stays a widow and
seems to live for the boy."
"East Sixth," said Mr. McComb. "Ah! I was out in
that locality day before yesterday. Yes, I remember—"
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Then he stopped. He was too much of a lawyer to give
away his evidence. He might use it later.
He dropped back and finally left the crowd. He then
made his way to the street and number indicated by his
acquaintance. He knocked at the door. There was no
answer. He listened and thought he heard sobbing within.
He knocked more loudly. Again there was no answer, but
this time he was sure he heard a stifled sobbing. He
knocked again, very softly. Perhaps he was frightening
the lady. Then he saw the shade of the window drawn
aside a very little, and soon the door opened. Evidently
when she had seen him, she was not afraid.
He entered and presented his card as representative of
the N. A. A. C. P.
"What's that?" asked the lady, trying to keep back the
tears.
"That? Oh, that's an association to look out for the
interests of colored folks," answered Mr. McComb.
"Oh, Mr. McComb! I suppose that's your name. Please
sit down. Can you do anything for my boy ? Oh, my poor
little boy. Mr. McComb, he's not guilty. I know he's not
guilty! Will you, can you help my boy?" asked she, with
shining eyes and flushed face.
"Mrs. Carrol, I will try to save him. The Association
may not see fit to take up the case, but I am a lawyer. I
will do it."
"You're a lawyer! But I have no money. I can earn a
little and pay you! I'll pay you ten dollars down and two
dollars a week! I know that's too little for a lawyer! Oh,
my poor boy!" And she began sobbing again.
"Mrs. Carrol, never mind about the money. There may
be some expense. I am a poor man, just starting out, and
am simply here on an errand for the Association, but I'll
stay and try to clear the boy if he is innocent, and I think
he is!" answered Mr. McComb.
"Indeed, Mr. McComb he is!" said the mother.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
117
Mr. McComb next visited the cabin in the alley to which
he had followed the white boy. It was vacant. In the cor¬
ner was a basin, and there were traces of a black stain still
clinging to the sides. This he carefully wrapped in a news¬
paper which he had in his pocket. Then he went into the
street. His next plan was to find the white child. He
might know him. His practice had already made him keen
in recognizing faces. He sauntered about, watching the
children he saw. At last he found the boy he sought. He
was playing with a group of boys. The young lawyer stood
and watched the game. The boys were so intent upon
their marbles that they did not observe him for a few min¬
utes. During those few minutes he learned that the boy
was called "Jackie."
That was what he wanted and he moved away. At that
moment the boys saw him.
"Look at that nigger! What does he want here?"
cried one.
"Hey, there, better get out of this!" shouted another,
and a pebble passed over Mr. McComb's head, just grazing
his hat. He turned and faced them.
"Look here! You youngsters watch out, or I'll have you
arrested!" he called out.
"La, la, la, la!" sang the boys, sticking out their tongues
and wrinkling up their freckled noses. But they threw no-
more stones.
"Now, that's bad," thought Bob. "The boy'll know me
now. I'll have to have help. Yes, I'll'have to send Helen.
I can shadow her at a distance and watch."
He went back to the hotel and reported. Helen was
anxious to help.
"I'll tell you, Bob. I'll put in an ad, to get a job of nurs¬
ing We'll need the money anyway, and I'll get near to
Jackie's home if I can," said she.
"Well, Helen, if you promise to give up the job as soon
as you locate Jackie's friend," answered her husband.
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"All right, foolish Bob, I promise. We must save Sam-
mie. Now let's walk around to the jail and see if they've
got him safe. You know, I am afraid of lynchers, even in
the" Capital," said Helen.
So they walked out in the direction of the jail. But they
were defeated in their purpose. The jail was surraunded
for a whole block by an excited mob. There were many
soldiers and sailors in the crowd. They seemed to be the
leading spirits and were directing proceedings. Without
doubt they were trying to get Sammie Carrol, to do with
him after the fashion of a Southern mob. A few colored
people were to be seen, and as the McCombs approached,
the mob swayed backward. Bob seized Helen by the arm
and hurried away. A shot and then another rang out. A
few rods from them a colored man fell. They turned sud¬
denly down an alley and entered the back door of a store,
passed quickly through, with little notice, for the clerks
were at every available loophole in an endeavor to see what
the mob was doing, and customers had fled. The pair
reached the front entrance, stepped into a street-car, and
soon were out of the reach of danger. After traveling for
two miles they alighted, found their bearings, got another
car and returned to the hotel.
Helen lay down with a nervous headache. Bob took the
advertisement to a newspaper office. They rested that
night, sleeping soundly, feeling in their very souls that they
were immortal till their work was done.
A number of answers came to the advertisement the next
day, but none of them were just as near the desired place
as they wished. They saw that the city was under military
rule. Soldiers patroled the streets. Bob visited the courts
and found that thei time of the trial was set for the next
week. It was best to hurry through and get quickly at the
cause of the uprising and to punish by law at once, lest
something worse should come. Bob got permission to
defend the prisoner after considerable trouble and the
sending of a number of telegrams to Chicago.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
119
The next morning more answers came to Helen. She
selected the place nearest to the desired spot, as they
judged, and set out to answer in person. In the course of
an hour, she telephoned Bob to bring her suitcase, or send
it, if he thought best. He decided to send it. He might be
recognized, and he wanted Helen to be free in her detec¬
tive work.
In two days she came back to the hotel carrying her
own baggage.
"Bob," she said, "I pleaded sickness and got off. It was
the truth, too, for I have a very severe headache. Still I
should have stayed, if I had not found out all we care to
know about Jackie White's relatives. His sister is the out¬
raged girl, and he has an uncle who lives with the family
whose name is John Wilson."
"Thank you, dear! that is sufficient. I'll have John Wil¬
son and Jackie summoned as witnesses for the defense,"
he said with a chuckle.
Mr. and Mrs. McComb rested easily now. They even
took excursions all over the city, except in the certain sec¬
tion, and enjoyed their unexpected visit to the Capitol.
Mrs. Carrol came every day to see them, and Bob got from
her the story of her life and that of the boy. He. found she
did not know the White family at all. She supposed Sam-
mie had been delivering papers to that house. He finally
gained access to the jail and talked with Sammie. He told
him that that morning of the beginning of the trouble he
had been to the girl's house to deliver the family paper.
The girl had come out to get the paper. She had said
"Good morning" pleasantly. She had always been friendly.
Then he had gone on his way. Two days after that he was
arrested. It took more than one visit and much question¬
ing to get this from the boy. He seemed dazed and he was
startled at every footfall.
At length came the day of the trial. The courtroom was
packed and standing room was scarce.
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Mr. McComb had summoned Jackie and his uncle.
The girl was placed on the witness stand. She was ques¬
tioned, but no definite information was obtained. She
stammered and contradicted her statements. When asked
if the prisoner was her assailant, she said she thought so.
The boy Jackie was questioned, and he was so frightened
he could not make articulate answers. Mr. McComb asked
permission to question him. He asked him where he was
taking a basin of water on that morning. He started and
looked over at Wilson. Then he said he could not remem¬
ber having a basin of water. Evidently nothing could be
got from the witness.
John Wilson was put on the stand. He bore witness that
he had seen Sammie Carrol with his niece, and had gone to
her rescue. Sammie had run away when he saw him com¬
ing. Bob asked him why he did not report the matter to
the police at once. He replied that he thought it might be
a disgrace to his niece, and he would get some of the fel¬
lows and get him without mentioning the girl, but that he
had failed to get his friends to take that course.
> The prosecutor then made his plea. He eloquently
pleaded with the jurors to gird on their manhood and stand
for the protection of womanhood. He said that the thing
they could do now to destroy the mob spirit, was to declare
this boy guilty so that he might be punished according to
law. His youth was no reason for his leniency; if he was
old enough to commit a crime he was old enough to suffer
for it. His face was hardened, as they could see.
Sammie was sitting there stolidly. His eyes were set
with desperate despair. When Mr. McComb arose he
manifested no interest, but as the speaker proceeded he
turned his face toward him. His eyes shone with grati¬
tude, with pride, with worship.
Helen sat among the colored people, getting' hold of God
silently. Her eyes never left Bob's face.
The speaker, who had a parcel under his arm, recited the
wrongs of his people from the moment they had been
LET MY PEOPLE GO
121
taken from their native homfc to the present moment. He
acknowledged that in the years they had committed many
crimes for which they had suffered by law and at the hands
of mobs. He declared that many innocent had suffered,
had even suffered for what white men had done. As he
said the last he turned slowly, partly away from the jury,
so that he could catch the eye of John NWilson. He said
that white men had sometimes blackened their hands and
faces to commit crime that that crime might be attributed
to Negroes. Then rapidly he told the story of his adven¬
ture and unwrapped the parcel under his arm, and showed
the basin with its stains of black. As he arose to heights
of eloquence, the Negroes began to cheer, and instinctively
the crowd of whites took it up and the courtroom rang
with cheers.
Bob kept his eyes on John Wilson. He saw him flush
red, then turn as pale as a sheet. His niece fainted and
was carried out. Helen pushed through the crowd and
cared for the girl, for her mother and the women around
were too hysterical to do anything.
Mr. McComb sat down. The judge said a few words to
the jury, which no one heard. They retired, and in five
minutes brought in a verdict of "not guilty." The boy
and his mother found their way to Mr. McComb, fell on
their knees and kissed his hands. Bob saw Helen waiting,
and glad to get away, he freed himself from his thankful
client and the throng, and joined her. They went to the
telegraph office and sent a dispatch to the N. A. A. C. P.
They then repaired to the hotel and began preparations
for departure on the morrow. In about an hour an answer
to their dispatch came. It was this:
Good. Your, plan which you wrote me is good,
also. Stay there until you hear from me. S.
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CHAPTER XVIII
The Breaking Light
"Be proud, my Race, in mind and soul
Thy name is writ on Glory's scroll
In characters of fire.
High 'mid the clouds of Fame's bright sky
Thy banner's blazoned fold now fly,
And truth shall lift them higher."
The next day the letter came from the N. A. A. C. P.
Bob and Helen read it and re-read it and discussed the con¬
tents and planned and replanned. Finally they ended and
Bob went to a telegraph office and sent two dispatches.
One was to the Secretary in Chicago:
"Send instructions to A ."
The other was to the freight agent of a certain county
seat in Georgia, and read:
"Ship Robert McComb's freight to A , Ten¬
nessee."
Mr. and Mrs. McComb left Washington on the evening
train.
"Too bad, dear, I can't get a berth for you. I shouldn't
say can't—I might—" said Bob.
"No, I wouldn't have you try even. I've had a good rest,
and wouldn't spend the money if I could," answered Helen.
"This surely is a big undertaking, Helen. What a great
leap in progress for the race it would mean, if successful.
It's hard to have faith for this, but these riots and the
re-organization of the Ku Klux Klan make it necessary,"
said he.
"The world is moving fast. You know how quickly the
Great War came on and how surprised everybody was. I
shouldn't be surprised at any thing now," she confessed.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
123
Yes, but America was slow in going into it. Americans
are inclined to be conservative."
That is true, but our people are not slow, at least not
slow in moving when a great call comes," observed Helen.
"Well, we ought to go to A anyway. I don't know
Tennessee as well as I know Georgia; but neither did I
know Washington as well as Chicago. We'll just have to
go forward as the way opens," said Bob.
At that moment Mr. McComb caught a glimpse of the
headlines of an evening paper as it was held up to view a
few seats in advance. He read and suppressed a groan.
Helen must not know this if he could help it. A riot in
the very State to which they were traveling with their
unique plan. And the third riot in a very short time after
the others! Were riots going to sweep through all the
cities? He engaged Helen in conversation about their
plans, and she did not know about that riot until many days
after they were settled in their new home.
Upon arrival in A , they found a fair boarding house.
Mr. McComb was fortunate in securing a good location
for his office, and immediately furnished it in a very
respectable manner. The Association sent him, in a few
days, a check for services in Washington, so he entered
upon his career in the South as a lawyer under very favor¬
able circumstances. Helen spent much time looking for
suitable rooms for living and finally engaged a small suite
which was not as desirable as she wished, but which would
answer for the present. The furniture arrived sooner than
they expected, and in a few weeks they were settled in
their new home, and had made some acquaintances.
After everything had been arranged, Helen spent a
great deal of time in Bob's inner office. They were writ¬
ing letters, letters, letters. There seemed to be no end to
the letters.
"Helen, I'll have to get a typewriter at once. You are
working too hard, and we are both too slow to get this
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done as quickly as it should be done. I'll get a good sec¬
ond-hand one. I'll look around this very afternoon,"
said Bob.
He did and soon came to the office, followed by a man
delivering the coveted article. Then Helen had to spend
a great deal of time in learning to type, but when she had
learned to handle the machine, she soon made up for the
time she had lost. Mr. McComb found in a few weeks that
he was compelled to leave this work for her, for his clients
were many. The most of his work was settling of small
quarrels and collecting small amounts of money. In the
meantime he succeeded in securing admission to the bar
and the right to practice law in the State of Tennessee.
The weeks and months passed rapidly and happily.
Finally, in September, came the call to Chicago. The office
was closed for a week and he left A for Chicago, this
time alone.
On arriving in Chicago, he immediately repaired to a
spacious hall in the "Black Belt." He found here represen¬
tative men from all over the country. The number of white
men was not small. The first day was spent in organiz¬
ing, appointing of committees, and attending to prelimi¬
nary routine work. The second day was largely given to
committee meetings. The third day they were ready to
proceed rapidly with business.
No sooner were they assembled in the hall on the third
morning, than a boy in uniform of the telegraph service
appeared. He handed a telegram to the chairman.
"A telegram for Robert McComb!" said the chairman.
Mr. McComb stepped forward to get it. Then he left the
hall and went into the corridor to read it. This was the
telegram:
"Your daughter has come. Please give name."
Helen.
"What in the world does Helen mean? I haven't any—
Oh!" and Bob stopped and laughed aloud. Some men pass¬
ing into the hall stared at him. Then he left the building,
LET MY PEOPLE GO
125
not even think of his hat, went three squares to a telegraph
office and wired:
Call her Mary. Bob.
He went back to the hall chuckling to himself. As he
entered the corridor, he straightened his countenance and
looked as serious as a judge—at least, he thought he did.
"No bad news, McComb, I hope," whispered a man near.
"Oh, no, thank you. Just a little message from my
wife," answered he.
"Ah, I see. Congratulations!" said his friend.
Bob closed his eyes and drew his mouth down, trying to
scowl.
"I mustn't look like a fool if I can help it," he said to
himself.
That day was born, also, a new political party: Race
Equality Party. From that convention went the men to
all parts of North, East, South, and West to organize the
State and district party on the platform of:
1. Protection by law for all persons of all races.
2. Punishment by law for all crimes.
3. Right of trial by jury of peers for all persons.
4. Abolition of compelled segregation.
5. Political freedom for all on the same National basis.
6. Equal accommodations in transportation for equal
prices.
7. Abolition of peonage.
8. Equal wages for equal service in all labor,
trades, and professions.
9. Equal educational advantages for all races.
10. Education in the truth of unity of the human race
by means of schools and churches.
11. Enforcement of the Constitution and its Amend¬
ments.
* 12. Change of word "Negro" to "man" in reports of
crimes, etc.
Robert McComb was chairman of the Platform Commit¬
tee. Upon presenting the platform of the new party, he
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said a few words. He pleaded for independence of thought,
independence of word, independence of action, and broth¬
erhood.
"Let us have our own party and our own labor unions,
as we have our own churches. The other race has drawn
the color line against us in these. Let it stand. If there
are white persons who want to come in with us in this
party, and there are—"
Here he was interrupted by a chorus of voices from
numbers of white persons in the audience, saying "Yes,
yes!"
"We are glad to have you," he continued. "There are ho
race discriminations with us and never were. The broth¬
erhood of men is our ideal for our country and for the
world. We do believe in the brotherhood of men, but let
us be independent."
"McComb! McComb! Bob McComb! Captain Bob!
He's all right!" roared the audience.
"Countrymen," continued Mr. McComb; "you remember
from history how the Dlitch patriots took up the taunt of
'Beggars' with a toast of 'Long live the Beggars' so that
the name 'Beggars' became a name of honor and renown
throughout the world. The Dutch led the cause of
Democracy for the world. It has occurred to me that the
best weapons against our enemies are not guns and knives,
but the very epithets by which they have taunted us,
thrown b^ck into their teeth with cheers. If we could only
bring ourselves to take that name which has stung our
ears since childhood and weighted our hearts for so long
and change it into a synonym of honor and an 'open
sesame' to liberty, it might be well. Let us be independent
and proud of our race."
Cheers rang again and the walls re-echoed with the name
''McComb." The platform was adopted and the conven¬
tion adjourned. The members scattered over the country
to organize and fight for recognition in every locality.
LET MY PEOPLE GO
127
Bob hurried back to A without delay. He just had
time to greet a few friends, the Ransoms among the num¬
ber. He found that Aunt Martha had gone to her reward
and that the granddaughter was somewhere in the city
still. However, he had no mission in Chicago now and
much awaited him in A . The train seemed slower than
any train ever had. At last it rolled "into the depot in
A .
In a few minutes he had planted a kiss upon the lips of
Helen and had taken little Mary in his arms.
"Thank God!" he murmured devoutly.
The next few weeks were busy ones. Fortunately the
letters were all written; all there was to do was to date
and sign them and get them off. Several clients were wait¬
ing. No sooner were their cases settled than the time came
for the District Convention, and the men and women came.
He had secured a hall of a secret organization to use for
the convention. Everything was a success. The delegates
were enthusiastic and the thing was done before the gen¬
eral public was aware of its existence.
The morning papers on the day following the closing of
the Convention contained the startling news:
128
LET MY PEOPLE GO
RACE EQUALITY PARTY ORGANIZED BY THE
NEGROES!
Robert McComb Nominated for Congressman from This
District!
In an hour there was a crowd of angry whites before the
building in which the office was situated. There were
swearing, shaking fists, and loud threats. Bob was in his
office calmly writing. As the throng increased, he tele¬
phoned to the chief of police, who came with a squad of
policemen and scattered the crowd. In a few hours he
received a note from a friendly white man and admirer of
the genius of the young lawyer. This note set him work¬
ing. He packed everything of value in the office and at
nightfall, he and a few friends removed the packages,
boxes, and furniture to the suite.
Then he notified the police of the warning note and a
watch was set around the building. Notwithstanding the
vigilance of the watchman, fires broke out in several
places and the building was partially burned before the fire
could be controlled.
Bob did not rent another office. He felt that he must
stay with his wife' and child. He worked with his clients
at home. They were not disturbed in the suite. The spirit
of opposition changed to ridicule, and that passed, and the
enemy seemed to forget,—at least, they came to the con¬
clusion that the matter was of little consequence. Mr.
McComb and his friends were at work, however, and meet¬
ings were held quietly over the district.
On the day of election, the name of Robert McComb
appeared on the tickets under the heading:
Race Equality Party.
The judges protested, they telegraphed to the governor.
"It was out of the ordinary," was all they could say against
LET MY PEOPLE GO
129
it- The Negro men and women poured into the polls,
ihey began at the first opening. They were properly
instructed and qualified to vote.
Bob was in the suite. The telephone was ringing con¬
stantly. He sat at his table, answering call after call.
Helen sat with Mary on her lap, writing at his dictation.
"They are beginning to fire on the voters, Helen. Ready
•now to go?" he said quietly.
Then he called a aumber and almost as soon as the
receiver was up, an automobile was at the door.
"Good-by, dears," said he as he hurriedly kissed his wife
and babe. '"Ill be with you soon, God willing. Be brave."
Then he went to the window and watched his loved ones
enter the machine which rushed down the street and was
lost to view. He turned to answer the calling bell.
"Yes, I see . . . Too bad! A woman! . . . How many
did you say? . . . Three? . . . Hold steady. We can't
give up now. Hold on, but don't shoot."
He turned from the telephone with a groan.
"O God, am I right? I might have known it. They
aiever will stand it!"
He sank to his knees and lifted up both1 hands in suppli¬
cation. He said not a word, for a voice spoke to him. He
heard it distinctly, and to this day he will tell you that it
was audible. These were the words he heard: "Fear not,
IRobert; you shall go to Congress. The people shall be
free."
He arose and turned to the telephone. He called another
number, then sank back into his chair and covered his face
with his hands, and the tears flowed through his fingers
and trickled down over the snowy whiteness of his starched
front The bell rang and rang, but he did not heed it.
For an hour and a half he sat there, then he took up the
receiver.
"How many? . . . Two thousand? . . . Can they
manage the mob? . . . Ridgway? . . . Yes, hell do it. ..
150 1 ' LET MY PEOPLE GO
No, not until the polls close.' No/no! Fll not go until the
polls close. Don'tr tell me how many are suffering. The
dead?... Well, it is better to die and be at<peace. J almost
envy then* , '. Yes, 111 go then," . . .. - -
Then" he : arose and' paced1 back ands forth for hbiir£
Sometimes he answe'red-the bell, sometimes he heeded not
His head sank on hi^1 breast/ the lin£s deepened in his
forehead, his firm mouth was set.'- The fate-of'a race wa*
hanging by d thread; and the hand of Robert McComb was
holding the thread; Yes, but God himself was holding
Robert McComb's hand, and there was a (great Presence
with him in th£ room.' ^ ? i .
The clock chimed six strokes,1- and he stopped, took up
KiS hat, and stepped to the> ddoh Immediately the honk
of a machine was heard. He stepped outside, locked the
door; and was' whisked^ away" into *the' gat)iei:ing. darkness.
By ten o'clock the repor-ts. were-in from the district, and
a company of grave-looking men emerged, from head¬
quarters. Robert McComb had been elected a.s member
of Congress! They gave out the report and left for their
homes without a wdf'd. Sbon the excited whites thronged
"the streets, and surged toward the building which con¬
tained the suite of rooms occupied by the family of Robert
McComb. The troops followed; they went double-quick
through side streets and by the time the mob had reached
^he suite, there was an escort of khaki .. .
"Let them alone, Captain Ridgway," said a burly colored
policeman' who was standing near the flat, "McComb's
gone!" ' > " "
So the soldiers fell' back.1 _ :
Meanwhile Mr. McComb's machine, after going 'a dis¬
tance of twenty-five iniles, turned arid'weht down a narrow
-road, then began to ascend; up, up, and finally stopped
before a neat white cottage. At the window were his wife
and daughter. , Bob and Helen here, spent many happy
.weeks and Mary cooed and grew fat.
LET MY "PEOPLE GO 131
'• w >' .
^ At the opening of Congress the McCombs went to Wash¬
ington again. T^his time it(.was not an unexpected trip, but
ft had been carefully planned, as you have seen. *
"Robert McComb" called out the ^Speaker. "McComb
has the floor!" " '
A volley of curses, hisses, shouts, and a shower oj
pamphlets and' books came toward the tall dark from of
our Bob as he- stood his ground on the floor of the House
of Representatives.
< • ;) j
: The gavel poinded the desl^
"Order!" shouted the Speaker amid the din. "OrderI
Robert McComb has the floor." At the same time he
beckoned toward the door leading into the lobby. A half-
dozen policemen entered. Finally the noise subsided, and
the-missile^ ceased ,t(o fall. . „
Bob quietly picked up a book lying at his feet and held
it aloft. His eyes glowed with an inner fire, they flashed
upon'his enemies. - His towering figure.rose in strength
The vast body of men turned and were fascinated by the
power of his -presence. They gazed at him, transfixed
.with awe. f r < . ; L .
"Mr.^ Speaker," said. he, "and gentlemen, I hold in my
hand a copy of the« Constitution of 'the United States of
America, of which country I have the honor of being a
citizen, for which country I ;have iought .on the battle¬
fields of: France, and for which country I have shed some
of my blood. In the name of, Jehovah, the God of my
fathers, and in the name rof this. Constitution, I hold the
floor. I intend to stand here .many times. Others of my
race shall stand here.. I h&ve many things to say to you
but as my "Master said, 'Ye cannot bear them now.' At
this moment I move you that Lynch law and Mob rule
be abolished in these United States of America and in all
territory subject to the jurisdiction thereof, and that the
president be instructed to enforce this measure by calling
132
LET MY PEOPLE GO
to his aid the police force of the different cities and the
army of the United States."
A woman representative, from the other side of the room
arose before the last word had passed the speaker's lips,
and seconded the motion. Then not another word was said
Robert McComb stood there. After waiting a few minutes
the motion was put to vote.
Did it pass? Certainly. The men answered "Aye" one
by one, as their names were called, compelled by that dark,
handsome face, behind which seemed the power of the God
of the Universe.
On the day of his first hearing, Helen wheeled the
baby-carriage and went to meet him. Their eyes met, and
there was a look of triumph in each pair.
"I have gained a hearing on the floor of the House,"
said Bob.
"The morning light is breaking for our people—and Mary
has a tooth" said Helen.
■ "Dad, dad!" said Mary.