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 read a paper like this and they don't approve of the wrongs done to black people. They'll arise and assert themselves sometime. Give them time.—Give them time."

"Meanwhile all manner of hell's to pay, eh? If there starts a riot tonight where will your better class whites be? Safe in their homes. If a Negro is caught armed, he'll be shot down. White rioters will be given every freedom for sway of their bestiality, however. They will be able to shoot down Negroes with impunity."

"Oh, don't be so hard on us, Old Man. We're not all bad."

"That's true, Armstrong. Pardon me. I forgot. Let's go down to the piazza. Perhaps I exaggerate."

Suiting action to words the two men descended. The piazza was crowded. Twilight was fast coming on, and here and there a star began twinkling in the red gold sky. Along the streets preparations were being made to light lamps, while Negro workers, were hurrying to their homes, anxious, worried looks on their faces, fear in their hearts. They had been warned by the police and were eagerly heeding the warning. There was an ominous silence enveloping the city. Hotel guests as well as others seemed to sense it. Few words were being spoken and these in undertones from neighbor to neighbor. Everyone was restless, the very air was depressing and mysteriously heavy.