: "Look yer," said he, "yuna ta'k too
much!" raising his voice. "Yuna mouts g'wine ter git yuna inter trouble;
hear me? Did yuna see Jedge Morse when he go by? Did yuna see 'im stop
ter listen at you? Le' me tell yuna sumthin' right good." The old man
shook his finger several seconds before proceeding. "Dese white fo'kes
is onter you, dey got de road all map out. Dey no ebry move yuna Nigger
makin'. How dey no it? How dey no it, I say?" Another long finger shake.
"Yuna Nigger uman tell um, yuna runnin' yuna tongue in de kitchen, yuna
runnin' yer tongue in de street. Now, instid ov de bocra bein' in de
street in dey nite gown, yuna gwine ter be thar wid nuttin' on. Don't
you no dat we ain't bin able ter by er gun er ounce powder in munts, an'
de bocra got cannon an ebry ting. See how he'pliss yer is? Now yuna go
home, an' quit so much ta'k. Keep cool fer dese bocra pisen." Uncle Guy
walked slowly on and the women dispersed. Those who read the newspaper
accounts of that terrible massacre know full well just how true was the
prophecy of this old citizen. Doubtless he looks back over it now as a
catastrophe beyond his expectations or dreams.

CHAPTER XII.

The Massacre.

The five days prior to the massacre Wilmington was the scene of turmoil,
of bickerings between the factions in the political struggle; "Red
Shirts" and "Rough Riders" had paraded, and for two or three days
Captain Keen had been displaying his gatling gun, testing its efficiency
as a deadly weapon before the Negroes.

All of these demonstrations had taken place to convince the Negro that
to try to exercise his right as an elector would have a disastrous
result. Upon the conservative and peace-loving these things had the
desired effect. But the bolder ones showed a rugged front, and on
election day hung about the polls and insisted upon exercising their
rights as citizens, and many clashings were the results. But the major
portion of black electors stayed at home in hope that the bloodshed
which hot-headed Democrats had been clamoring for as the only means of
carrying the election might be averted. When the sun set upon the little
city on the 9th of November there seemed to be a rift in the storm cloud
that had for so many weeks hung over it, and the city had apparently
resumed its wonted quiet. Far out on Dry Pond, in the old "Wigwam" a
gang of men had met, who ere the sun should set upon another day would
make Wilmington the scene of a tragedy a