This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1916 Excerpt: ... early that night and was sleeping profoundly when he was roused from his slumbers by the clash of steel, the tramp of many feet, the yelling of the terrified negroes, and above all, by the war-cry of Mr. Cook, still pursuing. As soon as he awoke, it flashed into his mind that a fight of some sort was going on and he not in it. The very thought was unthinkable, unbearable. It horrified him. Springing from his bed and snatching up his shotgun, he sped down the steps to a side door which opened on the Square. Half-blinded by the light, he saw but dimly, but he could see a dense crowd of negroes half way down the Square, moving rapidly, whether attacking or in flight, he could not determine--nor in fact did he try. Throwing the gun to his shoulder, he let loose both barrels where the foe seemed thickest. Simultaneously there pealed forth an agonized shout from Mr. Cook--an exceeding bitter cry of wrath, of pain, of outraged dignity. He saw Mr. Cook advancing upon the Company, one hand clasped to his coat-tails, the other brandishing his trusty cane, upbraiding with winged words. "The Mayor tole you not to shoot, an' I tole you not to shoot, and here you blame fools done turn loose an' shot me." Alston stood horrorstricken at the enormity of his wrongdoing. The Company simply rocked in helpless, uncontrollable mirth. Alston, as silently as the Arabs who folded their tents, stole back to his room to woo the midnight gloom. It is said that he spent a sleepless night, racked by remorse and spasms of hysterical laughter. Uncle Isaac who made his bed and blacked his shoes for him was seriously uneasy about him. "Marse Archie do mighty curious this mornin'," said the old man. He put one leg in his breeches an' he look sorry; then he put turrer leg...