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 Professor Armstrong had notified the clerk. All day, however, there was a continual crowd passing and repassing the spot, souvenir hunting, or just morbidly curious. The bodies of the Negroes were turned over to relatives who prepared them for burial. As if in remorse, some of the white families sympathetically offered the stricken ones aid in their bereavement. But for the remainder of the city business proceeded as if nothing unusual had occurred. Trafford was hurried out of town by his family when it became noised about that he had been the indirect cause of the tragedy.

Rev. Father Winsor Buntin in his little country parish, as he read the story recalled the meeting with Dr. Tansey in Charleston. His heart was heavy. He bowed his head in meditation sitting in front of the little mission that had been his home as well as the center of his work.

As he pictured the scene, he murmured, tears filling his eyes: "Father forgive them, for they know not what they do. How can men be so cruel," he thought. "So brutal! I must hurry into town. He was a stranger in a strange land. I'll pray for the repose of his soul."

Arriving at Orangeburg, Father Buntin hurried to the hotel and from there learned of the plans for the funeral. Learning from Professor Armstrong that the body was to be shipped North after a few simple exercises, he requested that he be allowed to conduct the services.

"Gladly, Father. I was wondering whom I could get to conduct the services."

Professor Armstrong's legs were still shaky from his ex-