Go on and feed the niggers, an' stir up
Bud, and I'll be on hand in the mornin' when court opens."
When the lesser of these precious worthies left his superior to his
cups, he stopped in the barroom and bought a pint of rotgut whiskey--a
cheap brand of rectified spirits coloured and flavoured to resemble
the real article, to which it bore about the relation of vitriol to
lye. He then went into a cheap eating house, conducted by a Negro for
people of his own kind, where he procured some slices of fried bacon,
and some soggy corn bread, and with these various purchases, wrapped
in a piece of brown paper, he betook himself to the guardhouse. He
unlocked the door, closed it behind him, and called Peter. The old man
came forward.
"Here, Peter," said Haines, "take what you want of this, and give some
to them other fellows, and if there's anything left after you've got
what you want, throw it to that sulky black hound over yonder in the
corner."
He nodded toward a young Negro in the rear of the room, the Bud
Johnson who had been the subject of the conversation with Turner.
Johnson replied with a curse. The constable advanced menacingly, his
hand moving toward his pocket. Quick as a flash the Negro threw
himself upon him. The other prisoners, from instinct, or prudence, or
hope of reward, caught him, pulled him away and held him off until
Haines, pale with rage, rose to his feet and began kicking his
assailant vigorously. With the aid of well-directed blows of his fists
he forced the Negro down, who, unable to regain his feet, finally,
whether from fear or exhaustion, lay inert, until the constable,
having worked off his worst anger, and not deeming it to his advantage
seriously to disable the prisoner, in whom he had a pecuniary
interest, desisted from further punishment.
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