Each one that came in afterward was questioned
eagerly upon the hypothesis of a negro insurrection having already
taken shape. "How many are there?" "Who is at the head of it?"
"How are they armed?" "What did they say?" were some of the queries
which overwhelmed every new comer. It never seemed to strike any
one as strange that if the colored men had any hostile intent they
should let these solitary horsemen pass them unmolested. The fever
spread. Revolvers were flourished and shot-guns loaded; excited
crowds gathered here and there, and nearly everybody in the
town sauntered carelessly toward the bridge across which Nimbus'
gayly-decked column must enter the town. A few young men rode out
to reconnoitre, and every few minutes one would come dashing back
upon a reeking steed, revolver in hand, his mouth full of strange
oaths and his eyes flaming with excitement.
It was one of these that precipitated the result. The flag which
waved over the head of the advancing column had been visible from
the town for some time as now and then it passed over the successive
ridges to the eastward. The sound of fife and drum had become more
and more distinct, and a great portion of the white male population,
together with those who had come in to the election from the
surrounding country, had gathered about the bridge spanning the swift
river which flowed between Melton and the hosts of the barbarous
and bloodthirsty "niggers" of the Red Wing country.
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