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Updated: June 6, 2025
The Honorable Asa was conventionally dressed, and his linen was white, but his collar was innocent of a necktie. Callomb stood for a moment inside the door, and, when he spoke, it was to demand crisply: "Well, what are you going to do about it?" "About what, Captain?" inquired the other, mildly. "Is it possible you haven't heard?
He had a rare gift of handling men, which made them ready to execute the impossible. But the elder Callomb had trained his son to succeed him at the head of a railroad system, and the young man had philosophically undertaken to satisfy his military ambitions with State Guard shoulder-straps.
Callomb had been too busy to read newspapers of late. He had heard only that Samson had "been away." While he wondered, Samson went on: "I'm glad you came. If it had been possible I would have come to you." As he told of the letter he had written the Judge, volunteering to present himself as a witness, the officer's wonder grew. "They said that you had been away," suggested Callomb.
"South," he said to Samson, when he had led him aside, "they didn't want to hear what you had to tell the Grand Jury, but they are going ahead to indict you on manufactured evidence." Samson was for a moment thoughtful, then he nodded. "That's about what I was expecting." "Now," went on Callomb, "we understand each other. We are working for the same end, and, by God!
"If you will excuse me," interrupted His Honor, drily, "I'll judge of how I am to charge my Grand Jury. I have been in communication with the family of Mr. Purvy, and it is not their wish at the present time to bring this case before the panel." Callomb laughed ironically. "No, I could have told you that before you conferred with them.
"At all events" the Governor had derived from Callomb much information as to Samson South which the mountaineer himself had modestly withheld "South gets his pardon. That is only a step. I wish I could make him satrap over his province, and provide him with troops to rule it. Unfortunately, our form of government has its drawbacks."
"I supposed you'd be raking the hills." Neither of them was for the moment paying the least attention to the Governor, who stood quietly looking on. "I sent Merriwether out there," explained Callomb, impatiently. "I wanted to come here before it was too late. God knows, South, I wouldn't have had this meeting occur for anything under heaven. It leaves me no choice.
"I demand admission to the court-house to make arrests," shouted the new Sheriff. In answer, a spattering of rifle reports came from the jail windows. Two of the Souths fell. At a nod from Samson, Callomb left on a run for the hotel. The Sheriff himself took his position in a small store across the street, which he reached unhurt under a desultory fire.
But, if Callomb could be shot down in his uniform, under circumstances which seemed to bear the earmarks of South authorship, it would arouse in the State at large a tidal wave of resentment against the Souths, which they could never hope to stem.
Callomb climbed to the second story of the frame bank building, and pounded loudly on a door, which bore the boldly typed shingle: "ASA SMITHERS, ATTORNEY-AT-LAW." The temporary Judge admitted a visitor in uniform, whose countenance was stormy with indignant protest. The Judge himself was placid and smiling.
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