(he called
dat yaller woman's name) I'll give you de worst beatin' ever was."
Walter were kotch wid 'er ag'in. Dat Frid'y night he come a-struttin'
into de bar-room. Mr. Dabbs say, "Come he'p move dese boxes here in de
nex' room." Walter walked in lak a Nigger will when you ask 'im to do
somethin', an' Mr. Dabbs turnt de key. "Git 'crost dat goods box," he
say. "I'll give you what I promised you." Mr. Dabbs got 'im a piece o'
plank an' burnt Walter up.

"All dis here were a-goin' on 'bout de time Niggers were a-votin' an'
doin' things 'roun' white folks. Dey thought dey were pertected by de
Chisolm crowd.

"De nex' Frid'y night Walter walked right into dat bar-room ag'in. Mr.
Dabbs say, "What you doin' here, Nigger?" Walter say, "You 'member what
you done to me tonight one week?" An' he say, "Well, what's to it?" Den
Walter say, "Well, I come to settle wid you." Mr. Dabbs say, "Let me see
if I can't hurry you up some," an' he retch[FN: reached] his han' back
his han' to his hip. But 'fore he could draw[FN: draw his gun] out,
Walter done run back to de door. Dey were a chinaberry tree close to de
door an' Walter got b'hin' it an' fired a pistol. Mr. Dabbs were hit wid
his arm a-layin' 'crost de counter wid his pistol in his han'.

"'Me an' Mr. Ed ('cause he were de jailor), we put him on a mattress in
de room back o' de bar. An' he died dat night. De word jus' kinda got'
roun' dat some of de Chisolm crowd done killed Mr. Gully's clerk.

"'Walter run off to Memphis. Mr. Gully were pursuin' after 'im to ketch
'im. Walter sho' got tired of him pursuin' after 'im. Dat were de
evidence Walter give out 'fore dey put de rope on his neck an' start him
on his way to de gallows, but twant nobody dere to put it down jus' lak
it were.

"'Mr. Sinclair were sheriff by dis time, an' my young marster an' me
went wid 'im to git Walter to take 'im to de gallows. Mr. Sinclair say,
"Ed, you goin' to de jail-house now? Here's a ha'f pint o' whiskey. Give
it to Walter, make 'im happy, den if he talk too much, nobody will
b'lieve it." Mr. Ed say, "Come on, Sambo, go wid me." He retched down
an' got a han'ful o' goobers an' put 'em in his pocket. We were eatin'
'em on de way down to de jail-house. He say, "Walter, Mr. Sinclair done
sent you a dram." Walter say, "Mr. McAllum, I see you an' Sam eatin'
peanuts comin' along. Jus' you give me a han'ful an' I'll eat dem on de
way to de gallows. I don't want no whiskey."

"'Den us got on de wa