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Updated: June 22, 2025
"You let the niggers alone, don't you tamper with them," said Ware. He possessed a profound belief in Murrell's capacity. He knew how the latter had shaped the uneasy population that foregathered on the edge of civilization to his own ends, and that what he had christened the Clan had become an elaborate organization, disciplined and flexible to his ruthless will.
When he comes back Belle Plain and its niggers will be as good as his. I am going to take the girl away from there to-night. I don't ask your help and you needn't ask what comes of her afterward. That will be my affair." Murrell's burning eyes shifted from one to the other.
At sight of the new-comer, Murrell, with an oath, released Betty, who, striking her horse with the whip galloped down the road toward the Barony. As she fled past Carrington she bent low in her saddle. "Don't let him follow me!" she gasped, and Carrington, striding forward, caught Murrell's horse by the bit. "Not so fast, you!" he said coolly. The two men glared at each other for a brief instant.
Alexander Hynds, historian of Tennessee, adds some facts and comments which will enable the reader more fully to make his own estimate as to this singular man: "The central meeting place of Murrell's band was near an enormous cottonwood tree in Mississippi county, Arkansas. It was standing in 1890, and is perhaps still standing in the wilderness shortly above Memphis.
Ware felt certain that he would wait through the night, but as sure as the morning broke, if no word had reached him, he would send one of his men across the bayou, who must learn of Murrell's arrest, escape, flight for in Ware's mind these three events were indissolubly associated. The planter's teeth knocked together.
Your organization is wrecked, your signals and passwords are known, your secrets have become public property I can even produce a list of your members; there are none of you who do not stand in imminent peril yet understand, I have no wish to strike at those who have been misled or coerced into joining Murrell's band!" The judge's sodden old face glowed now with the magnanimity of his sentiments.
There was a couple of strangers with him, and he had me in and fired questions at me for half an hour, then he hiked off up to The Oaks." "Murrell's been arrested," said Ware in a dull level voice. Hicks gave him a glance of unmixed astonishment. "No!" he cried. "Yes, by God!" "Who'd risk it?" "Risk it? Man, he almost fainted dead away a damned coward. Hell!"
Murrell stood between him and the door; more than this, he stood between him and his rifle, which leaned against the wall in the far corner of the room. Slosson roared out a protest to his words. "That's all right, neighbor," retorted Yancy over his shoulder, "but I'm going to bed." He never shifted his glance from Murrell's face.
When he was gone, the planter ordered his horse, and while he waited for it to be brought up from the stables, reread Murrell's note. The expression of his unprepossessing features indicated what was passing in his mind, his mood was one of sullen rebellion.
"Take your hand off my horse!" exclaimed Murrell hoarsely, his mouth hot and dry with a sense of defeat. "Can't you see she'd rather be alone?" said Carrington. "Let go!" roared Murrell, and a murderous light shot from his eyes. "I don't know but I should pull you out of that saddle and twist your neck!" said Carrington hotly. Murrell's face underwent a swift change.
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