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 The man addressed turned a long look of surprised inquiry at Dr. Tansey. After a long scrutiny he asked: "Protect a nigger prisoner? Who ever heard of such a thing."

Before any reply could be made the two men walking the prisoner between them came down the human aisle. The boy's eyes were wide and staring with fright. One white man on each side grasped an arm firmly. The boy looked pleadingly from one face to another as he passed. There was no pity there. They spat at him instead. Some kicked at him front and rear. Some tried to strike him. As the leaders made a circle about him under a tall elm with wide overhanging branches, Dr. Tansey heard the boy say, in prayer, "Oh, God. You know I'm innocent. Save me."

Dr. Tansey was jostled away before he could hear more. He had satisfied himself, however, that this was the same youth he had seen in the courthouse in the morning. To confirm his conclusion he turned to Professor Armstrong, "That's the same young man?" he asked. Professor Armstrong replied in the affirmative by nodding his head. Before more could be said a sea of twisted, leering, white faces closed in about the group. Exultant, blood-hungry yells, menacing and terrible rang in the prisoner's ears. Fiery eyes now glared at him, shrill, raucous voices cursed him and hands seeming like long bony talons seemed to reach for his throat.

"Get a rope.—Get a torch.—Get a light'ood knot," were directions shouted. Dr. Tansey could stand no more.