THE BYSTANDERS CHEER.
From his quest of Morlene, on the morning of her escape, Harry returned to
his home in a sullen mood. Morlene's lack of appreciation of his
disinterested patriotism which her course revealed to him, was a blow in
itself, apart from his loss of her as a wife. The fact that he had lost his
wife and had not slept any during the whole night did not, however, cause
him to remain away from his accustomed labor that day. Cooking his own
breakfast, he ate his solitary meal and went forth to his daily task.
Anxious to learn what view others took of the happening of the previous
night, he purchased a copy of a morning paper and read its comments
thereon. It was the same paper that had commented so favorably upon what it
termed the "Warthell Movement." Harry turned immediately to the editorial
columns and read far enough to see that his act was being condemned.
Thereupon he tore the paper into shreds, threw it to the ground and
trampled upon it.
"Sure sign that I did right to attack that scoundrel Warthell, if it has
made this old Democratic paper mad. Ha, ha, ha! Morlene thought I was doing
wrong. I wasn't though, anybody can see, for what would this old
Democratic paper be kicking about if what I did wasn't against it?" Thus
muttered Harry to himself as he went on to his work.
"We'll hear a different tune when the Northern Republican papers begin to
discuss our attempt to get rid of these Negro traitors who are plotting to
undo all that the North has done for us. I take my medicine from the North;
let the South go where it please. See? Any Negro that will stand up for the
South against the North is an infernal, ungrateful, good for nothing
rascal, and _ought_ to be killed. Tell him I said so." These last words,
addressed by Harry to himself, were accompanied with the shaking of a
clenched fist at an imaginary foe. The more he pondered his course, the
more he praised himself, and the more outrageous Morlene's desertion of him
seemed. Eagerly he awaited the coming of the Northern papers that he might
regard his vindication as complete.
Harry went about his daily task in a half cheerful, half moody frame of
mind, pondering what steps to take with reference to his wife, but arriving
at no definite conclusion.
After the lapse of a day or so the eagerly-looked-for Northern Republican
paper came. Harry smiled with satisfaction, saying to himself: "Now we
shall hear the thing talked about right."
The article was headed, "A Crime Against Freedom." Harry now thought that
the article was going to gibbet Dorlan Warthell for having committed a
crime against the freedom of the Negro by refusing to longer affiliate with
the party that gave him freedom. He re-read the caption, "A Crime Against
Freedom." "Yes, yes; only it ought to be 'An Unpardonable Crime,' for that
is what it was." Eager to feast on the invectives to be hurled at Dorlan,
he stood still on the street corner and began to read:
"The United States of America is a government ruled by the duly ascertained
will of a majority of its citizens. Each qualified citizen has the right of
casting one vote in support of whatever side of an issue that pleases him.
Each citizen has the further right to use all legitimate means in his power
to induce other citizens to cast their votes as he casts his.
"The right of advocacy is, if possible, more sacred than the right to vote,
for the votes of fellow citizens go well nigh the whole length in shaping a
man's environments. Since the votes of others are the majority influence in
determining a man's environments, it is manifestly unjust to deny him the
opportunity of influencing these votes. He who strikes at freedom of speech
strikes at the corner-stone of our republic, and, to our view, commits the
greatest crime that a citizen can commit against a government.
"It is well known that we are in full accord with the Republican party's
policy with reference to the Philippine Islands. While we are firmly of
the opinion that the party is right, we nevertheless strenuously insist
that those who hold contrary views be accorded the right to advocate those
views.
"Dorlan Warthell, a Negro in the South, has seen fit to publicly disapprove
of a portion of the party's policy, whereupon a Negro Republican zealot has
sought to take his life. The Republican party repudiates such vile methods
and the man who resorts to them.
"Mr. Warthell has as much right to express his views, whatever they may be,
as the President of the nation. The fact that he is a member of a race that
obtained its freedom through the instrumentality of the Republican party
does not alter the matter in the least. The Republican party has no
political slaves and desires none. It seeks to commend itself to the hearts
and consciences of men, and spurns every semblance of coercion.
"The miscreant who sought to kill Mr. Warthell, because that individual
dared to be a man, is unworthy of life. If the arms of justice are too
short to reach him, it is hardly to be hoped that he will have the good
sense to bring his own unprofitable existence to a close."
When Harry had finished he let the paper fall to the ground. He felt as
though the very skies had fallen down upon him. To find the great
Republican party lifting its voice in condemnation of his act was more
than he could bear. Stooping down, he picked up the paper and re-read the
closing paragraph.
"I can surprise them yet. They say 'It is hardly to be hoped that he will
have the good sense to bring his own unprofitable existence to a close.'
Aha! we shall see!" said Harry, a grim determination settling over his
gloomy soul.
Deserted by Morlene, repudiated by the Republican party, which he had
always regarded as the vicegerent of God, Harry decided to have his life
come to a close in some way. He began to give earnest thought to the
finding of the proper method of departure. In the matter of closing his
earthly career, he was hampered by his religious views. He was a firm
believer in Heaven and in a literal Hell. In common with many other
Negroes, he believed that the Bible contained a specific declaration to the
effect that all sins could be forgiven a man except the sin of self-murder.
To cause himself to die and yet escape Hell was the problem that now
occupied Harry's mind. From day to day he deliberated on the matter. At one
time he was attracted by the thought of laying down upon a railroad track
in some isolated spot in the hope that he would fall asleep and fail to
awake on the approach of a train. In case he did not awake, he thought that
his death could properly be construed as an accident. Then he thought of
becoming an attendant upon the sick, choosing such patients to serve as
were afflicted with dangerous contagious diseases.
Months and months passed, summer and fall sped by and made way for winter,
but Harry's purpose remained. The question of a way to die was at last
solved for him in a most unexpected manner. One afternoon as he was
returning from work, he saw far ahead of him, coming in his direction, a
pair of runaway horses hitched to a double seated carriage. As the carriage
came near he saw that the driver's seat was empty and that a white lady and
three children were seated in the carriage in imminent peril of their
lives. "Thank God!" Harry murmured, "the way appears." As the horses came
galloping down the street, Harry stationed himself in such a position that
he would be able to make an effort to intercept them.
"Get out of the way, you fool!" frantically shouted one after another of
the bystanders. "Those horses will kill you." To all of this Harry paid no
heed. Harry's sublime heroism stilled the shoutings of the multitude. The
people stood mute gazing at Harry, so unflinchingly awaiting the coming of
the runaways. When the horses came sweeping by, Harry leapt to the head of
the one nearest him and grappled the bridle. The maddened horses bore him
from his feet and onward, but Harry clung to the bridle. Unable to longer
carry so heavy a weight clinging to his mouth, the horse to which Harry was
holding checked his speed and brought his fellow to a stand. This result
was not achieved, however, without fatal injuries to Harry.
Turning the bridle loose Harry fell at the feet of the horses, others now
rushing forward to take charge of them. As Harry lay upon the ground
covered with dust and blood, a crowd of citizens gathered about him. The
lady whose life had been saved, the wife of a leading banker, got out of
the carriage, and, elbowing her way through the crowd, stooped down to wipe
the blood stains from Harry's face.
Harry who had been unconscious revived and smiled feebly in recognition of
the kindness. The crowd that had witnessed his heroic deed now gave a
mighty cheer, joyful that he was alive. Before the cheering subsided, the
light of life died out of Harry's eyes and his soul had sped.