the march afternoon was windy and cold, and scarlett pulled the lap robe high underher arms as she drove out the decatur road toward johnnie gallegher’s mill. driving alone washazardous these days and she knew it, more hazardous than ever before, for now the negroes werecompletely out of hand. as ashley had prophesied, there had been hell to pay since the legislaturerefused to ratify the amendment. the stout refusal had been like a slap in the face of the furiousnorth and retaliation had come swiftly. the north was determined to force the negro vote on thestate and, to this end, georgia had been declared in rebellion and put under the strictest martial law.
georgia’s very existence as a state had been wiped out and it had become, with florida andalabama, “military district number three,” under the command of a federal general.
if life had been insecure and frightening before this, it was doubly so now. the militaryregulations which had seemed so stringent the year before were now mild by comparison with theones issued by general pope. confronted with the prospect of negro rule, the future seemed darkand hopeless, and the embittered state smarted and writhed helplessly. as for the negroes, theirnew importance went to their heads, and, realizing that they had the yankee army behind them,their outrages increased. no one was safe from them.
in this wild and fearful time, scarlett was frightened—frightened but determined, and she stillmade her rounds alone, with frank’s pistol tucked in the upholstery of the buggy. she silentlycursed the legislature for bringing this worse disaster upon them all. what good had it done, thisfine brave stand, this gesture which everyone called gallant? it had just made matters so muchworse.
as she drew near the path that led down through the bare trees into the creek bottom where theshantytown settlement was, she clucked to the horse to quicken his speed. she always felt uneasydriving past this dirty, sordid cluster of discarded army tents and slave cabins. it had the worstreputation of any spot in or near atlanta, for here lived in filth outcast negroes, black prostitutesand a scattering of poor whites of the lowest order. it was rumored to be the refuge of negro andwhite criminals and was the first place the yankee soldiers searched when they wanted a man.
shootings and cuttings went on here with such regularity that the authorities seldom troubled toinvestigate and generally left the shantytowners to settle their own dark affairs. back in the woodsthere was a still that manufactured a cheap quality of corn whisky and, by night, the cabins in thecreek bottoms resounded with drunken yells and curses.
even the yankees admitted that it was a plague spot and should be wiped out, but they took nosteps in this direction. indignation was loud among the inhabitants of atlanta and decatur whowere forced to use the road for travel between the two towns. men went by shantytown with theirpistols loosened in their holsters and nice women never willingly passed it, even under theprotection of their men, for usually there were drunken negro slatterns sitting along the road,hurling insults and shouting coarse words.
as long as she had archie beside her, scarlett had not given shantytown a thought, because noteven the most impudent negro woman dared laugh in her presence. but since she had been forcedto drive alone, there had been any number of annoying, maddening incidents. the negro slutsseemed to try themselves whenever she drove by. there was nothing she could do except ignorethem and boil with rage. she could not even take comfort in airing her troubles to her neighbors orfamily because the neighbors would say triumphantly: “well, what else did you expect?” and herfamily would take on dreadfully again and try to stop her. and she had no intention of stopping hertrips.
thank heaven, there were no ragged women along the roadside today! as she passed the trailleading down to the settlement she looked with distaste at the group of shacks squatting in thehollow in the dreary slant of the afternoon sun. there was a chill wind blowing, and as she passedthere came to her nose the mingled smells of wood smoke, frying pork and untended privies.
averting her nose, she flapped the reins smartly across the horse’s back and hurried him past andaround the bend of the road.
just as she was beginning to draw a breath of relief, her heart rose in her throat with suddenfright, for a huge negro slipped silently from behind a large oak tree. she was frightened but notenough to lose her wits and, in an instant, the horse was pulled up and she had frank’s pistol in herhand.
“what do you want?” she cried with all the sternness she could muster. the big negro duckedback behind the oak, and the voice that answered was frightened.
“lawd, miss scarlett, doan shoot big sam!”
big sam! for a moment she could not take in his words. big sam, the foreman of tara whomshe had seen last in the days of the siege. what on earth ...
“come out of there and let me see if you are really sam!”
reluctantly he slid out of his hiding place, a giant ragged figure, bare-footed, clad in denimbreeches and a blue union uniform jacket that was far too short and tight for his big frame. whenshe saw it was really big sam, she shoved the pistol down into the upholstery and smiled withpleasure.
“oh, sam! how nice to see you!”
sam galloped over to the buggy, his eyes rolling with joy and his white teeth flashing, andclutched her outstretched hand with two black hands as big as hams. his watermelon-pink tonguelapped out, his whole body wiggled and his joyful contortions were as ludicrous as the gambolingsof a mastiff.
“mah lawd, it sho is good ter see some of de fambly agin!” he cried, scrunching her hand untilshe felt that the bones would crack. “huccome you got so mean lak, totin’ a gun, miss scarlett?”
“so many mean folks these days, sam, that i have to tote it. what on earth are you doing in anasty place like shantytown, you, a respectable darky? and why haven’t you been into town to seeme?”
“law’m, miss scarlett, ah doan lib in shantytown. ah jes’ bidin’ hyah fer a spell. ah wouldn’
lib in dat place for nuthin’. ah nebber in mah life seed sech trashy niggers. an’ ah din’ know youwuz in ‘lanta. ah thought you wuz at tara. ah wuz aimin’ ter come home ter tara soon as ah gotde chance.”
“have you been living in atlanta ever since the siege?”
“no, ma’m! ah been trabelin’!” he released her hand and she painfully flexed it to see if thebones were intact. “ ‘member w’en you seed me las’?”
scarlett remembered the hot day before the siege began when she and rhett had sat in thecarriage and the gang of negroes with big sam at their head had marched down the dusty streettoward the entrenchments singing “go down, moses.” she nodded.
“wel, ah wuked lak a dawg diggin’ bresswuks an’ fillin’ san’ bags, tell de confedruts lef ‘lanta.
de cap’n gempmum whut had me in charge, he wuz kilt an’ dar warn’t nobody ter tell big samwhut ter do, so ah jes’ lay low in de bushes. ah thought ah’d try ter git home ter tara, but den ahhear dat all de country roun’ tara done buhnt up. ‘sides, ah din’ hab no way ter git back an’ ah wuz sceered de patterollers pick me up, kase ah din’ hab no pass. den de yankees come in an’ ayankee gempmum, he wuz a cunnel, he tek a shine ter me an’ he keep me te ten’ ter his hawse an’
his boots.
“yas, ma’m! ah sho did feel bigitty, bein’ a body serbant lak poke, w’en ah ain’ nuthin’ but afe’el han’. ah ain’ tell de cunnel ah wuz a fe’el han’ an’ he— well, miss scarlett, yankees isiggerunt folks! he din’ know de diffunce! so ah stayed wid him an’ ah went ter sabannah widhim w’en gin’ul sherman went dar, an’ fo’ gawd, miss scarlett, ah nebber seed sech awful goin’onsas ah seed on de way ter sabannah! a-stealin’ an’ a-buhnin’—did dey buhn tara, missscarlett?”
“they set fire to it, but we put it out.”
“well’m, ah sho glad ter hear dat. tara mah home an’ ah is aimin’ ter go back dar. an’ w’en dewah ober, de cunnel he say ter me: ‘you sam! you come on back nawth wid me. ah pay yougood wages.’ well’m, lak all de niggers, ah wuz honin’ ter try disyere freedom fo’ ah went home,so ah goes nawth wid de cunnel. yas’m, us went ter washington an’ noo yawk an’ den terbawston whar de cunnel lib. yas, ma’am, ah’s a trabeled nigger! miss scarlett, dar’s mo’ hawsesand cah’iges on dem yankee streets dan you kin shake a stick at! ah wuz sceered all de time ahwuz gwine git runned ober!”
“did you like it up north, sam?”
sam scratched his woolly head.
“ah did—an’ ah din’t. de cunnel, he a mighty fine man an’ he unnerstan’ niggers. but his wife,she sumpin’ else. his wife, she call me ‘mister’ fust time she seed me. yas’m, she do dat an’ ahlak ter drap in mah tracks w’en she do it. de cunnel, he tell her ter call me ‘sam’ an’ den she do it.
but all dem yankee folks, fust time dey meet me, dey call me ‘mist’ o’hara.’ an’ dey ast mer terset down wid dem, lak ah wuz jes’ as good as dey wuz. well, ah ain’ nebber set down wid w’itefolks an’ ah is too ole ter learn. dey treat me lak ah jes’ as good as dey wuz, miss scarlett, but indere hearts, dey din’ lak me—dey din’ lak no niggers. an’ dey wuz sceered of me, kase ah’s sobig. an’ dey wuz allus astin’ me ‘bout de blood houn’s dat chase me an’ de beatin’s ah got. an’,lawd, miss scarlett, ah ain’ nebber got no beatin’s! you know mist’ gerald ain’ gwine let nobodybeat a ‘spensive nigger lak me!
“wen ah tell dem dat an’ tell dem how good miss ellen ter de niggers, an’ how she set up awhole week wid me w’en ah had de pneumony, dey doan b’lieve me. an’, miss scarlett, ah gotter honin’ fer miss ellen an’ tara, tell it look lak ah kain stan’ it no longer, an’ one night ah lit outfer home, an’ah rid de freight cahs all de way down ter ‘lanta. ef you buy me a ticket ter tara, ahsho be glad ter git home. ah sho be glad ter see miss ellen and mist’ gerald agin. ah done hadnuff freedom. ah wants somebody ter feed me good vittles reg’lar, and tell me whut ter do an’
whut not ter do, an’ look affer me w’en ah gits sick. s’pose ah gits de pneumony agin? is datyankee lady gwine tek keer of me? no, ma’m! she gwine call me ‘mist’ o’hara’ but she ain’
gwine nuss me. but miss ellen, she gwine nuss me, do ah git sick an’—whut’s de mattuh, missscarlett?”
“pa and mother are both dead, sam.”
“daid? is you funnin’ wid me, miss scarlett? dat ain’ no way ter treat me!”
“i’m not funning. it’s true. mother died when sherman men came through tara and pa—hewent last june. oh, sam, don’t cry. please don’t! if you do, i’ll cry too. sam, don’t! i just can’tstand it. let’s don’t talk about it now. i’ll tell you all about it some other time. ... miss suellen is attara and she’s married to a mighty fine man, mr. will benteen. and miss carreen, she’s in a—”
scarlett paused. she could never make plain to the weeping giant what a convent was. “she’sliving in charleston now. but pork and prissy are at tara. ... there, sam, wipe your nose. do youreally want to go home?”
“yas’m but it ain’ gwine be lak ah thought wid miss ellen an’—”
“sam, how’d you like to stay here in atlanta and work for me? i need a driver and i need onebad with so many mean folks around these days.”
“yas’m, you sho do. ah been aimin’ ter say you ain’ got no bizness drivin’ ‘round by yo’seff,miss scarlett you ain’ got no notion how mean some niggers is dese days, specially dem whut livehyah in shantytown. it ain’ safe fer you. ah ain’ been in shantytown but two days, but ah heardem talk ‘bout you. an’ yesterday w’en you druv by an’ dem trashy black wenches holler at you,ah recernize you but you went by so fas’ ah couldn’ ketch you. but ah sho tan de hides of demniggers! ah sho did. ain’ you notice dar ain’ none of dem roun’ hyah terday?”
“i did notice and i certainly thank you, sam. well, how would you like to be my carriage man?”
“miss scarlett, thankee, ma’m, but ah specs ah better go ter tara.”
big sam looked down and his bare toe traced aimless marks in the road. there was a furtiveuneasiness about him.
“now, why? i’ll pay you good wages. you must stay with me.”
the big black face, stupid and as easily read as a child’s, looked up at her and there was fear init. he came closer and, leaning over the side of the buggy, whispered: “miss scarlett, ah got ter gitouter ‘lanta. ah got ter git ter tara whar dey woan fine me. ah—ah done kilt a man.”
“a darky?”
“no’m. a w’ite man. a yankee sojer and dey’s lookin’ fer me. dat de reason ah’m hyah atshantytown.”
“how did it happen?”
“he wuz drunk an’ he said sumpin’ ah couldn’ tek noways an’ ah got mah han’s on his neck—an’ ah din’ mean ter kill him, miss scarlett, but mah han’s is pow’ful strong, an’ fo’ ah knowed it,he wuz kilt. an’ ah wuz so sceered ah din’ know whut ter do! so ah come out hyah ter hide an’
w’en ah seed you go by yestiddy, ah says ‘bress gawd! dar miss scarlett! she tek keer of me.
she ain’ gwine let de yankees git me. she sen’ me back ter tara.”
“you say they’re after you? they know you did it?”
“yas’m, ah’s so big dar ain’ no mistakin’ me. ah spec ah’s de bigges’ nigger in ‘lanta. deydone been out hyah already affer me las’ night but a nigger gal, she hid me in a cabe ober in dewoods, tell dey wuz gone.”
scarlett sat frowning for a moment. she was not in the least alarmed or distressed that sam hadcommitted murder, but she was disappointed that she could not have him as a driver. a big negrolike sam would be as good a bodyguard as archie. well, she must get him safe to tara somehow,for of course the authorities must not get him. he was too valuable a darky to be hanged. why, hewas the best foreman tara had ever had! it did not enter scarlett’s mind that he was free. he stillbelonged to her, like pork and mammy and peter and cookie and prissy. he was still “one of ourfamily” and, as such, must be protected.
“i’ll send you to tara tonight,” she said finally. “now sam, i’ve got to drive out the road apiece, but i ought to be back here before sundown. you be waiting here for me when i come back.
don’t tell anyone where you are going and if you’ve got a hat, bring it along to hide your face.”
“ah ain’ got no hat.”
“well, here’s a quarter. you buy a hat from one of those shanty darkies and meet me here.”
“yas’m.” his face glowed with relief at once more having someone to tell him what to do.
scarlett drove on thoughtfully. will would certainly welcome a good field hand at tara. porkhad never been any good in the fields and never would be any good. with sam on the place, porkcould come to atlanta and join dilcey as she had promised him when gerald died.
when she reached the mill the sun was setting and it was later than she cared to be out. johnniegallegher was standing in the doorway of the miserable shack that served as cook room for thelittle lumber camp. sitting on a log in front of the slab-sided shack that was their sleeping quarterswere four of the five convicts scarlett had apportioned to johnnie’s mill. their convict uniformswere dirty and foul with sweat, shackles clanked between their ankles when they moved tiredly,and there was an air of apathy and despair about them. they were a thin, unwholesome lot, scarlettthought, peering sharply at them, and when she had leased them, so short a time before, they werean upstanding crew. they did not even raise their eyes as she dismounted from the buggy butjohnnie turned toward her, carelessly dragging off his hat. his little brown face was as hard as anut as he greeted her.
“i don’t like the look of the men,” she said abruptly. “they don’t look well. where’s the otherone?”
“says he’s sick,” said johnnie laconically. “he’s in the bunk house.”
“what ails him?”
“laziness, mostly.”
“i’ll go see him.”
“don’t do that. he’s probably nekkid. i’ll tend to him. he’ll be back at work tomorrow.”
scarlett hesitated and saw one of the convicts raise a weary head and give johnnie a stare ofintense hatred before he looked at the ground again.
“have you been whipping these men?”
“now, mrs. kennedy, begging your pardon, who’s running this mill? you put me in charge andtold me to run it. you said i’d have a free hand. you ain’t got no complaints to make of me, have you? ain’t i making twice as much for you as mr. elsing did?”
“yes, you are,” said scarlett, but a shiver went over her, like a goose walking across her grave.
there was something sinister about this camp with its ugly shacks, something which had notbeen here when hugh elsing had it. there was a loneliness, an isolation, about it that chilled her.
these convicts far away from everything, so completely at the mercy of johnnie gallegher,andifhec(were) hos(so) e to whip them or otherwise mistreat them, she would probably neverknow about it. the convicts would be afraid to complain to her for fear of worse punishment aftershe was gone.
“the men look thin. are you giving them enough to eat? god knows, i spend enough money ontheir food to make them fat as hogs. the flour and pork alone cost thirty dollars last month. whatare you giving them for supper?”
she stepped over to the cook shack and looked in. a fat mulatto woman, who was leaning over arusty old stove, dropped a half curtsy as she saw scarlett and went on stirring a pot in which black-eyed peas were cooking. scarlett knew johnnie gallegher lived with her but thought it best toignore the fact. she saw that except for the peas and a pan of corn pone there was no other foodbeing prepared.
“haven’t you got anything else for these men?”
“no’m.”
“haven’t you got any side meat in these peas?”
“no’m.”
“no boiling bacon in the peas? but black-eyed peas are no good without bacon. there’s nostrength to them. why isn’t there any bacon?”
“mist’ johnnie, he say dar ain’ no use puttin’ in no side meat.”
“you’ll put bacon in. where do you keep your supplies?”
the negro woman rolled frightened eyes toward the small closet that served as a pantry andscarlett threw the door open. there was an open barrel of cornmeal on the floor, a small sack offlour, a pound of coffee, a little sugar, a gallon jug of sorghum and two hams. one of the hamssitting on the shelf had been recently cooked and only one or two slices had been cut from it,scarlett turned in a fury on johnnie gallegher and met his coldly angry gaze.
“where are the five sacks of white flour i sent out last week? and the sugar sack and the coffee?
and i had five hams sent and ten pounds of side meat and god knows how many bushels of yamsand irish potatoes. well, where are they? you can’t have used them all in a week if you fed the menfive meals a day. you’ve sold them! that’s what you’ve done, you thief! sold my good suppliesand put the money in your pocket and fed these men on dried peas and corn pone. no wonder theylook so thin. get out of the way.”
she stormed past him to the doorway.
“you, man, there on the end—yes, you! come here!”
the man rose and walked awkwardly toward her, his shackles clanking, and she saw that hisbare ankles were red and raw from the chafing of the iron.
“when did you last have ham?”
the man looked down at the ground.
“speak up.”
still the man stood silent and abject. finally he raised his eyes, looked scarlett in the faceimploringly and dropped his gaze again.
“scared to talk, eh? well, go in the pantry and get that ham off the shelf. rebecca, give him yourknife. take it out to those men and divide it up. rebecca, make some biscuits and coffee for themen. and serve plenty of sorghum. start now, so i can see you do it.”
“dat’s mist’ johnnie’s privut flour an’ coffee,” rebecca muttered frightenedly.
“mr. johnnie’s, my foot! i suppose it’s his private ham too. you do what i say. get busy. johnniegallegher, come out to the buggy with me.”
she stalked across the littered yard and climbed into the buggy, noticing with grim satisfactionthat the men were tearing at the ham and cramming bits into their mouths voraciously. they lookedas if they feared it would be taken from them at any minute.
“you are a rare scoundrel!” she cried furiously to johnnie as he stood at the wheel, his hatpushed back from his lowering brow. “and you can just hand over to me the price of my supplies.
in the future, i’ll bring you provisions every day instead of ordering them by the month. then youcan’t cheat me.”
“in the future i won’t be here,” said johnnie gallegher.
“you mean you are quitting!”
for a moment it was on scarlett’s hot tongue to cry: “go and good riddance!” but the cool handof caution stopped her. if johnnie should quit, what would she do? he had been doubling theamount of lumber hugh turned out. and just now she had a big order, the biggest she had ever hadand a rush order at that. she had to get that lumber into atlanta. if johnnie quit, whom would sheget to take over the mill?
“yes, i’m quitting. you put me in complete charge here and you told me that all you expected ofme was as much lumber as i could possibly get out. you didn’t tell me how to run my businessthen and i’m not aiming to have you start now. how i get the lumber out is no affair of yours. youcan’t complain that i’ve fallen down on my bargain. i’ve made money for you and i’ve earned mysalary—and what i could pick up on the side, too. and here you come out here, interfering, askingquestions and breaking my authority in front of the men. how can you expect me to keepdiscipline after this? what if the men do get an occasional lick? the lazy scum deserve worse.
what if they ain’t fed up and pampered? they don’t deserve nothing better. either you tend to yourbusiness and let me tend to mine or i quit tonight.”
his hard little face looked flintier than ever and scarlett was in a quandary. if he quit tonight,what would she do? she couldn’t stay here all night guarding the convicts!
something of her dilemma showed in her eyes for johnnie’s expression changed subtly andsome of the hardness went out of his face. there was an easy agreeable note in his voice when hespoke.
“it’s getting late, mrs. kennedy, and you’d better be getting on home. we ain’t going to fall outover a little thing like this, are we? s’pose you take ten dollars out of my next month’s wages andlet’s call it square.”
scarlett’s eyes went unwillingly to the miserable group gnawing on the ham and she thought ofthe sick man lying in the windy shack. she ought to get rid of johnnie gallegher. he was a thiefand a brutal man. there was no telling what he did to the convicts when she wasn’t there. but, onthe other hand, he was smart and, god knows, she needed a smart man. well, she couldn’t partwith him now. he was making money for her. she’d just have to see to it that the convicts got theirproper rations in the future.
“i’ll take twenty dollars out of your wages,” she said shortly, “and i’ll be back and discuss thematter further in the morning.”
she picked up the reins. but she knew there would be no further discussion. she knew that thematter had ended there and she knew johnnie knew it.
as she drove off down the path to the decatur road her conscience battled with her desire formoney. she knew she had no business exposing human lives to the hard little man’s mercies. if heshould cause the death of one of them she would be as guilty as he was, for she had kept him incharge after learning of his brutalities. but on the other hand—well, on the other hand, men had nobusiness getting to be convicts. if they broke laws and got caught, then they deserved what theygot. this partly salved her conscience but as she drove down the road the dull thin faces of theconvicts would keep coming back into her mind.
“oh, i’ll think of them later,” she decided, and pushed the thought into the lumber room of hermind and shut the door upon it.
the sun had completely gone when she reached the bend in the road above shantytown and thewoods about her were dark. with the disappearance of the sun, a bitter chill had fallen on thetwilight world and a cold wind blew through the dark woods, making the bare boughs crack andthe dead leaves rustle. she had never been out this late by herself and she was uneasy and wishedherself home.
big sam was nowhere to be seen and, as she drew rein to wait for him, she worried about hisabsence, fearing the yankees might have already picked him up. then she heard footsteps comingup the path from the settlement and a sigh of relief went through her lips. she’d certainly dresssam down for keeping her waiting.
but it wasn’t sam who came round the bend.
it was a big ragged white man and a squat black negro with shoulders and chest like a gorilla.
swiftly she flapped the reins on the horse’s back and clutched the pistol. the horse started to trotand suddenly shied as the white man threw up his hand.
“lady,” he said, “can you give me a quarter? i’m sure hungry.”
“get out of the way,” she answered, keeping her voice as steady as she could. “i haven’t got anymoney. giddap.”
with a sudden swift movement the man’s hand was on the horse’s bridle.
“grab her!” he shouted to the negro. “she’s probably got her money in her bosom!”
what happened next was like a nightmare to scarlett, and it all happened so quickly. shebrought up her pistol swiftly and some instinct told her not to fire at the white man for fear ofshooting the horse. as the negro came running to the buggy, his black face twisted in a leeringgrin, she fired point-blank at him. whether or not she hit him, she never knew, but the next minutethe pistol was wrenched from her hand by a grasp that almost broke her wrist. the negro wasbeside her, so close that she could smell the rank odor of him as he tried to drag her over the buggyside. with her one free hand she fought madly, clawing at his face, and then she felt his big hand ather throat and, with a ripping noise, her basque was torn open from neck to waist. then the blackhand fumbled between her breasts, and terror and revulsion such as she had never known cameover her and she screamed like an insane woman.
“shut her up! drag her out!” cried the white man, and the black hand fumbled across scarlett’sface to her mouth. she bit as savagely as she could and then screamed again, and through herscreaming she heard the white man swear and realized that there was a third man in the dark road.
the black hand dropped from her mouth and the negro leaped away as big sam charged at him.
“run, miss scarlett!” yelled sam, grappling with the negro; and scarlett, shaking andscreaming, clutched up the reins and whip and laid them both over the horse. it went off at a jumpand she felt the wheels pass over something soft, something resistant. it was the white man wholay in the road where sam had knocked him down.
maddened by terror, she lashed the horse again and again and it struck a gait that made thebuggy rock and sway. through her terror she was conscious of the sound of feet running behindher and she screamed at the horse to go faster. if that black ape got her again, she would die beforehe even got his hands upon her.
a voice yelled behind her: “miss scarlett! stop!”
without slacking, she looked trembling over her shoulder and saw big sam racing down theroad behind her, his long legs working like hard-driven pistons. she drew rein as he came up andhe flung himself into the buggy, his big body crowding her to one side. sweat and blood werestreaming down his face as he panted:
“is you hu’t? did dey hu’t you?”
she could not speak, but seeing the direction of his eyes and their quick averting, she realizedthat her basque was open to the waist and her bare bosom and corset cover were showing. with ashaking hand she clutched the two edges together and bowing her head began to cry in terrifiedsobs.
“gimme dem lines,” said sam, snatching the reins from her. “hawse, mek tracks!”
the whip cracked and the startled horse went off at a wild gallop that threatened to throw the buggy into the ditch.
“ah hope ah done kill dat black baboon. but ah din’ wait ter fine out,” he panted. “but ef hehahmed you, miss scarlett, ah’ll go back an’ mek sho of it.”
“no—no—drive on quickly,” she sobbed.
三月里的一天下午，天气很冷，风也很大，思嘉把彩毯往上拉了拉，掖在胳臂底下，这时她正赶车沿着迪凯特街到约翰·加勒格尔的木材厂去，近来独自一人赶车外出是很危险的，这一点她也知道，而且现在比过去任何时候都危险，这是因为对黑人完全失去了控制。正如艾希礼所说的那样，自从州议会拒绝批准那修正案以来，可真吃不了兜着了。州议会断然拒绝，好像给了北方佬一记耳光，北方佬一怒之下要进行报复，而且来得很快很猛。北方佬为了达到要把黑人选举权强加于佐治亚州这个目的，他们宣布佐治亚发生了叛乱，宣布在这里实行最严厉的戒严。佐治州作为一个州已经被消灭了。和弗罗里达州和亚拉巴马州排在一起，编为第三军事区，受一位联邦将军管辖。
如果说在此以前生活不安全，人心不定，现在就更加如此，前一年宣布的军事条令当时似乎很严厉，现在和波普将军宣布的条令一比就显得温和多了。面对着黑人统治的可能性，前景暗淡，没有一点希望，有不满情绪的佐治亚州惴惴不安，处于痛苦之中。至于黑人，他们看到了并且念念不忘。
新近获得的重要地位，由于他们意识到有北方佬军队给他们撑腰打气，他们暴行就愈演愈烈，谁也别想得到安全。
在这个混乱和恐怖的时期，思嘉感到害怕了----虽然害怕，却很坚定，她仍旧像过去一样独自一人赶着车来来去去，并把弗兰克的手枪插在马车缝里，以备不时之需。她默默地诅咒州议会，不该给大家带来这更大的灾难。这种好看的大无畏的立场，这种人人赞扬的豪爽行动，究竟会有什么好处？
只可能把事情搞得更糟。
再往前走不远有一条小路，然后穿过一片光秃秃的小树林通到沟底，这里便是棚户区。思嘉吆喝了一声，让马快点跑。她每次从这里经过都感到非常紧张。因为这里有一些军队扔下的帐篷。还有一些石头房子，又脏又乱又臭。这是亚持兰大城内域外名声最坏的一个地方，因为这个肮脏的地方住着一些走投无路黑人，当妓女的黑人，还有一些下层的穷白人，听说黑人或白人犯了罪的，也躲到这里来，北方佬军队要是追捕某个人，首先就到这里来搜查。枪杀刀砍的事件在这里更是经常发生。当局没办法也懒得调查，一般就让住在这里的人自己解决那些见不得人的麻烦事，后面的树林里有一个造酒的作坊，能用玉米产生劣质威士忌。到了晚上，沟底的小屋里就传出醉鬼的嚎叫和咒骂声。
就连北方佬也承认这是个藏污纳垢的地方，应当加以铲除，可是他们并没有采取行动，使亚特兰大和迪凯特居民感到愤怒，呼声甚高，因为他们往来于这两个城市之间，非走这条路不可。男人路过棚户区都把手枪套解开，正派女人根本就不愿意路过这里，即便有丈夫保护也不愿意，因为常有黑人中的浪荡女人喝得醉醺醺的，坐在路旁说些粗话辱骂行人。
过去只要有阿尔奇在思嘉身边，她就不把这棚户区放在眼里，因为就连最放肆的黑人女人也不敢当着她的面笑一笑，可是自从她不得不自己驾车以来，已经出了多少次使人不愉快或令人伤脑筋的事，她每次驾车从那里经过。那些浪荡女人似乎都要出来捣乱。她没有办法，只好置之不理，自己生闷气，回家以后，她也不敢把这些事给邻居或者家里人说，从他们那里得到一点安慰，因为邻成们会得意地说：“啊，你还指望什么好事吗？"家里人就会拼命劝说，让她不要再去，而她是决对不可能就此不出去的。
谢天谢地，今天路边倒没有衣衫褴褛的女人，她路过通向棚户区的那条小路时，看见午后暗淡的斜阳下，一片小破房子趴在沟底，顿时产生了一阵厌恶的感觉，一阵凉风吹来，她闻到烧木柴的气味，炸猪肉的气味，还有没人打扫的露天厕所的气味，混在一起，真叫人呕心。她把头一扭，熟练地把缰绳在马背上一抖，马儿加快了速度，拐了一个小弯，继续向前跑去。
她刚想松了一口气，突然又吓得把心提到了嗓子眼儿，因为有一个身材高大的黑人悄悄地从一棵大橡树后面溜了出来，她虽然受了一惊，但还没有被糊涂。霎时间，她把车停住，一把抓起弗兰克的手枪。
“你要干什么？"她使出最大的力气，正颜历色地喝道。那黑人又缩到大树后面，从他回话的声音可以听得出，他是很害怕的。
“哎呀，思嘉小姐，别开枪，我是大个子萨姆呀！"大个子萨姆！一时间她不明白他的话，萨姆本来在塔拉当工头，围城的日子里她还最后见过他一面。他怎么。……“出来让我看看你到底是不是萨姆！"那个人犹犹豫豫地从大树后面出来，他是个邋遢的大个子，光着脚，下身是斜纹布裤子，上身是蓝色的联邦制服，他穿着又短又瘦。思嘉认出来了，这的确是萨姆，就把手枪放回的处，脸上露出了愉快的笑容。
“啊，萨姆！见到你，我真高兴！”
萨姆连忙冲到马车旁，两眼兴奋得转个不停，洁白的牙齿闪闪发光，像大腿一样大的两只黑手，紧紧地攥住思嘉伸给他的手。他那西瓜瓤一样红的舌头不停地翻动着，他高兴得整个身子左右来回扭动着，这动作竟像看门狗跳来跳去一样可笑。
“我的老天爷，能再见到家里的人，可真太好了！"他说，一面使劲攥着思嘉的手，她觉得骨头都要攥裂了。"您怎么也这么坏，使起枪来了，思嘉小姐？”“这年头里，坏人太多了，萨姆，我不得不使枪埃你到底在棚户区这个糟糕的地方干什么，你是个体面的黑人呀？怎么不到城里去找我啊？"“思嘉小姐，我不住在棚户区，只是在这里待一阵子。我才不住在这个地方哩。一辈子没见过这么懒的黑人。我也不知道您就在亚特兰大，我还以为您在塔拉呢。我原想一有机会就回塔拉去。"“自从围城以后，你就一直待在亚特兰大吗？"“没有，小姐！我还到别处去过。"这时他松了手，思嘉忍着疼活动了一下自己的手，看骨头是否仍然完好。"您还记得最后一次看见我的时候吗？"思嘉回想起来，那是围城前的一天，天气很炎热，她和瑞德坐在马车里，一伙黑人以萨姆为首，排着队穿过尘土飞扬的大街，朝战壕走去，一面高唱《去吧，摩西》。思嘉想到这里，点了点头。
“唉，我拼命挖壕沟，装沙袋，一直干到联盟军离开亚特兰大。带领我们的队长被打死了，没人说怎么办，我就在林子里躲了起来。我想回塔拉去，可又听说塔拉一带全烧光了。
另外，我想回也回不去。没有通行证所叫巡逻队抓去。后来北方佬来了，有个军官是个上校，他看中了我，叫我去给他喂马，擦靴子。
“是啊，小姐，我那时候可神气了，当上了跟班的。和波克一样，可我本来是个庄稼汉呀。我没告诉上校我是个庄稼汉，他----您知道，思嘉小姐，北方佬糊涂得很他们根本不分清楚！就这样，谢尔曼将军开到萨瓦纳，我也跟着上校到了萨瓦纳。天啊，思嘉小姐，那一路上，从来没见过那么可怕的事。抢啊，烧啊----思嘉小姐，他们烧没烧塔拉？"“他们是放了火，可我们把火扑灭了。"“噢，那就好了。塔拉是我的家，我还想回去呢。仗打完了以后，上校对我说：'萨姆，跟我回北方去吧，我多给你工钱。'当时我和其他黑人一样，很想尝尝这自由的味道再回家，所以就跟着上校到了北方，我们去了华盛顿，去了纽约，后来还到了波士顿，上校的家在那里。是哪，小姐，我这个黑人跑的地方还不少呢！思嘉小姐，北方佬的大街上，车呀，马呀，多得很呢！我老怕叫车压着哩！"“你喜欢北方吗，萨姆？”“也喜欢----也不喜欢。那个上校是个大好人，他了解黑人，他太太就不一样，他太太头一次见我，称我‘先生'，她老这么叫我，我觉得很别扭。后来上校告诉她叫我'萨姆'，她才叫我'萨姆'的。可是所有北方人，头一次见到我，都叫我'奥哈拉先生'。他们还请我和他们坐在一起，好像我和他们是一样的。不过我从来没和白人坐在一起过，现在太老了，也学不会了。他们待我就像待他们自己人一样，思嘉小姐，可是他们心里并不喜欢我----他们不喜欢黑人，他们怕我，因为我块儿大。
他们还老问我猫狗怎么追我，我怎么挨打。可是天知道，思嘉小姐，我没有挨过打呀！你知道杰拉尔德老爷从不让人打我这样一个不值钱的黑人。
“我把情况告诉他们，还对他们说太太对待黑人多么好，我得肺炎的时候，她连觉也不睡，细心照料我一个星期，可他们都不相信。思嘉小姐，我想念太太，想念塔拉。后来我实在受不了，一天晚上就溜出来，上了一辆货车，一直坐到亚特兰大。您要是给我买张票，我马上就回塔拉去，我回去看看老爷。这自由我可是受够了，我愿意有个人安排我按时吃得饱饱的，告诉我干什么，不干什么。生了病还照顾我。我要是再得了肺炎怎么办？那北方佬的太太能照料我吗？不可能，她可以称我'奥哈拉先生'，但是她不会照顾我的。可是太太，我要是病了，她会照顾我的----思嘉小姐，您怎么了？"“爸爸和母亲都死了，萨姆。"“死了？思嘉小姐，您在开玩笑吧。您不应该这样对待我的！"“不是开玩笑，是真的，母亲是在谢尔曼的军队开到塔拉的时候死的。爸爸----他是去年六月去世的。唉，萨姆，别哭埃不要哭了！你要再哭，我也受不了！萨姆，别哭！我实在受不了。现在咱们不谈这个了。以后有时候我再详细给你说。……苏伦小姐在塔拉，她嫁了一个非常好的丈夫，是威尔·本廷先生。卡琳小姐，她在一个----"思嘉没有说下去，她对这个哭哭啼啼的大汉，怎么能把修道院是什么地方说清楚呢。"她现在住在查尔斯顿，不过波克和百里茜都还在塔拉……来，萨姆，擦擦鼻子。你真想回家去吗？"“是的，可这个家不像我想像的那样有太太在----"“萨姆，留在亚特兰大，给我干活儿怎么样？现在到处坏人这么多，我非常需要一个赶车的人。”“是啊，思嘉小姐。您肯定是需要的，我一直想对您说，您一个人赶着车到处跑可不行啊，您不知道现在黑人有多么坏呀，特别是住在这棚户区的人。您这样可不安全呢。我在棚户区只待了两天，就听见他们议论您了，昨天您经过这里，那些下贱的黑女人冲着您大叫。当时我就认出您来了，可您的车跑得太快，我没追上。不过我让那些人掉了层皮，真的，萨姆，您没注意她们今天就没出来吗？”“我倒是注意到了，这真得谢谢你，萨姆。怎么样，给我赶车好吗？"“思嘉小姐，谢谢您的好意，不过我想我还是回塔拉去吧。"萨姆低下头，他那露着的大拇指指头在地上划来划去，不知他为什么有些紧张。
“告诉我，这是为什么，我多给你工钱，你一定要留在我这里。"他那张傻呼呼的黑黑的大脸膛，和孩子的脸一样容易看出内心的感情。他抬头看了看思嘉，脸上露出惊惶的神情。他走到近处，靠在马车边上，悄悄地说：“思嘉小姐，我非离开亚特兰大不可。我一定要到塔拉去，我一到那里，他们就找不着我了，我----我杀了一个人。"“一个黑人？"“不，是一个白人，是一个北方佬大兵，他们正在找我，所以我才待在棚户区。"“事情是怎么发生的？"“他喝醉了，朝我说了些很难听的话，我受不了，就掐住了他的脖了----我并没不想起死他，思嘉小姐，可我的手特别有劲，一会儿的工夫，他就死了。我吓坏了，不知怎么办才好。所以就躲到这里来了。昨天看见您从这里经过，我就说：'上帝保佑，这不是思嘉小姐吗？她照顾过我，她不会让北方佬把我抓走的，一定会送我回塔拉。"“你说他们在追捕你？他们怎么知道是你干的呢？"“是的，我这么大个子，他们不会弄错了。我想我大概是全亚特兰大最高的黑人了。昨天昨上他们已经到这里来找过我了，有一个黑人姑娘，把我藏在树林里一个洞里了，他们走了我才出来。"思嘉皱了皱眉头坐了一会儿。她一点也没有因为萨姆杀了人而感到震惊，或者伤心，而是因为不能用他赶车而感到失望。像萨姆这样身材高大的黑人当保镖，不比阿尔奇差。她总得想法把他平平安安地送到塔拉去，当然不能让当局把他抓去。这个黑人很有用，把他绞死可太可惜了。是啊，他是塔拉用过的最好的工头了！思嘉根本没想到他已经自由了。在她心目中，他仍然是属于她的，和波克、嬷嬷、彼得、厨娘、百里茜都一样，他仍然是"我们这个家庭中的一员"，因此必须受到保护。
“我今天晚上就送你回塔拉去，"她最后说。"萨姆，现在我还要往前面赶路，天黑以前还要回到家里。你就在这里等我回来。你要去的地方，谁也别告诉，你要是有帽子，拿来，可以遮一遮脸。"“我没有帽子呀！"“那就给你两毛五分钱，从这里的黑人那里买一顶，然后到这里来等我。"“好吧，小姐，"现在又有人告诉他做什么了，他松了口气。脸上也显得精神了。
思嘉一边赶路一边想。威尔肯定欢迎这样好的一个庄稼汉到塔拉来。波克干地里活儿一直干得不大好，将来也不会干得好。有了萨姆，波克就可以到亚特兰大来，和迪尔茜待在一起，这是父亲去世的时候她答应过的。
她赶到木材厂的时候，太阳已经快落了，没想到会在外面待到这到晚。约翰尼·加勒格尔站在一所破房子的门廓上，这房子是这家小木材厂的厨房。还有一所石头房子，是睡觉的地方，房前有一根大木头，上面坐着四个犯人，这就是思嘉派给约翰尼的五个犯人之中的四个。他们穿的囚服，因为有汗，又脏又臭。他们拖着疲倦的脚步走动时，脚镣发出哗啦哗的响声。这几个人都带着一种消沉、绝望的眼神。思嘉一眼就看出，他们都很瘦，健康状况很差。可是就在不久以前，她把他们雇来的时候，他们都是挺结实的呀。思嘉下了车，这些人连眼皮也不抬，只有约翰尼转过脸来，还顺手把帽子摘下来，向思嘉打了个招呼，他那棕色的小脸盘儿硬得像核桃一样。
“我不喜欢这些人这个样子，"她直截了当说。"看上去，他们身体不好，还有一个在哪里？"“他说他有玻"约翰尼要理不理的说。"在里边躺着呢。"“他有什么病？"“多半是懒玻"“我去看看他。"“你别去，说不定他光着身子哩。我会照顾他的。他明天就上班。"思嘉犹豫了一下，她看见一个犯人无力地抬起头来瞪了约翰尼一眼，表现出深恶痛绝的样子，接着又低下头，两眼看地了。
“你用鞭了抽他们吗？”
“对不起，肯尼迪太太，现在是谁在管这个厂子？你说过你让我负责管这个厂。我可以随意使唤。你没有什么可指我的，对不对？我比埃尔辛先生了的木材多一倍，难道不是这样吗？"“的确是这样，"思嘉说，但她打了一个寒噤，仿佛有一只鹅踩了她的坟。
她觉得这个地方和这些难看的房子有一种可怕的气氛，而过去休·埃尔辛经管的时候，根本就没有这种气氛。她还觉得这里有一种孤独、与世隔绝的感觉，这也使她不寒而栗。
这些犯人与外界离得那么远，什么联系也没有，任凭约翰尼·加勒格尔摆布。他要是想抽打他们，或用别的办法虐待他们，她是无从知道的，犯人是不敢向她诉苦的，他们怕她走了以后受到更重更严厉的惩罚。
“这些人看上去怎么这样瘦埃你让他们全吃饱吗？天知道，我在伙食上花的钱足可以把他们喂得像猪一样肥。上个月，光是面粉和猪肉我就花了三十块钱，晚饭你给他们吃什么？“思嘉边说边走到厨房前面，往里面看了看。有一个黑白混血的胖女人正在一只生了锈的旧炉子前做饭，一见思嘉，轻轻地行了个礼，又接着搅她煮的黑眼豆，思嘉知道约翰尼·加勒格尔和这个女人同居，但她觉得还是不理会这件事为好，她看得出来，除了豆子和玉米饼子之外，并没有准备什么别的可吃的东西。
“还有什么别的给他们吃呢？”
“没有。”
“豆子里没搁点腌肉吗？”
“没有。”
“也没搁点炖咸肉吗？黑眼豆不搁咸肉可不好吃，吃了不长劲儿呀，为什么不搁点咸肉？"“约翰尼先生说用不着搁咸肉。"“你给我往里搁。你们的东西都放在哪里？"那女人显得很害怕，她的眼睛朝着放食品的壁看了看，思嘉走过去使劲一下子把门打开，只见地上放着一桶打开的玉米面，一小口袋面粉，一磅咖啡，一点白糖，一加仑主高梁饴，还有两只火腿，其中一只火腿在架子上，是最近才做熟的，只切掉了一两片。思嘉气冲冲地回过头来看约翰尼，约翰尼也是满脸怒气，并用冷冰冰的眼睛看着她。
“我上星期派人送来的五袋白面到哪里去了？那一口袋糖和咖啡呢？我还派人送过五只火腿，十磅腌肉，还有那么多甘薯和爱尔兰土豆。这些东西都到哪里去了？就算你一天给他们做五顿饭吃，也不至于一个星期就都用光埃你卖了！你一定是卖了，你这个贼！把我送来的好东西全卖了，把钱装进了自己的腰包，然后就给这些人吃干豆子、玉米饼子。他们怪不得这么瘦呢。你给我让开！"她怒气冲冲地从他身旁走过，来到门廓上。
“你，头上那个----对，就是你。给我过来！"那人站起来，吃力地向她走来，脚镣哗啦啦地直响，她看了看他光着的脚脖子，磨得通红，甚至都磨破了。
“你最后一次吃火腿是什么时候？”
那人低着头往地下看。
“说话呀！”
那人还是站在那里不吭声，垂头丧气的样子，后来他终于抬起头来看了看思嘉一眼，好像在恳求她，接着又把头低下去了。
“不敢说，是不是？那好吧，你到食品柜把架子上的火腿拿来。丽贝卡，把刀给他，让他拿过去和那几个把它分了，丽贝卡，给这几个人准备点饼干和咖啡。多给他们点高梁饴。马上动手，我要看着你拿给他们。"“那是约翰尼先生自己的面粉和咖啡，"丽贝卡低声说，害怕得不得了。
“约翰尼先生自己的？真可笑！这么说，那火腿也是他自己的了，叫你怎么办，就怎么办。动手吧，约翰尼·加勒格尔，跟我到马车这里来一下。"她大步穿过那到处都是拉圾的院子，上了车，看见那些人一面撕火腿，一面拼命往嘴里塞，仿佛很害怕会有人随时拿走似的。她看到这情景，虽然还在生气，也算得到了一点安慰。
“你是个少见的大流氓！"她气愤到了极点地对约翰尼喊道。这时给翰尼站在车轮旁，耷拉着眼皮，帽子戴在后脑勺上。"我送来的这些吃的，你如数还我钱吧。以后，吃的东西按每天送，不按月送了。那你就没法跟我捣鬼了。"“以后我就不在这里了，"翰尼·加勒格尔说。
“你是说要走吗？”
这时，思嘉很想说：“滚就滚吧！"话都说到嘴边停了，冷静一想，还是很慎重。约翰尼要是一走。她可怎么办呢？他比休出的木材多一倍呀。她手上正还有一项大宗定货，数量之大，从未有过，而且还要得很急，一定要把这批木材如送到亚特兰大。约翰尼要是走了，她又能及时找谁来接着管这个厂呢？
“是的，我是要走。你是让我在这里全面负责的，你还说只要求我尽量多出木材。并没有告诉我应该怎样管这个厂，现在更不必多此一举了，我这木材是怎么搞出来的，这不干你的事。你不能责怪我不守信用。我为你赚了钱，挣了我那份薪水----有外块可捞，我也决不放过，可是你突然跑来插一杠子，管这，管那，当着众人的面让我威信扫地。这教我以后怎么维持纪律呢？这些人，有时候打他们一顿有什么关系？
这些懒骨头，打他们一顿还算便宜他们呢。他们吃不饱，他们的要求满足不了，这又有什么关系？因为他们不配有什么更好的待遇，咱们要么互不干涉，要么我今天晚上就走。”他这时板着的面孔看上去比石头还坚硬，思嘉进退两难了。他要是今天晚上就走，她怎么办呢。她不可能整夜待在这里看着这些犯人埃思嘉这种进退两难的心情在她的眼神里流露出来，因为约翰尼的表情也悄悄地发生了变化。他的脸没有刚才绷得那么紧了，说话的语气也婉转一些了。
“天不早了，肯尼迪太太，您最好还是回家去吧。我们总不至于为了这点小事就闹翻了呀？这么办吧，您下个月扣我十块钱工资，这件事就算了结了。"思嘉的眼睛不由得转向那帮可怜的人，他们还在那里拼命啃火腿，她还想到那个在透风的破房子里躺着的病人，她得把约翰·加勒格尔赶走。他是个贼，是个惨无人道的人。谁知道她不在的时候他是怎样对待这些犯人的。可是另一方面，这个人很能干，她碰巧现在正需要一个能干的人，现在可不能让他走埃他能替她赚钱呀。今后她一定要想办法让犯人吃上他们该吃的东西。
“我要扣你20块钱工资，"她狠狠地说。"明天早上我再来跟你谈这件事。”她随手抓起缰绳，但她知道这件事不会再谈了。她知道这件事就算了结了，而且她知道约翰尼对这一点也是很清楚的。
思嘉赶着马车沿着小路朝迪凯特街奔去。这时她的良心和她那赚钱的欲望相互展开了激烈的斗争，她知道自己不该把那些人的性命交给一个铁石心肠的小个子，任凭他去处置。
如果他造成任何一个犯人的死亡，那么她也有推卸不掉的责任，因为她明知道此人惨无人道，却还让他管他们。可是----可是话又说回来了，他们也不该犯罪呀。要是他们犯了法，被抓住了，受到不好的待遇就活该了。想到这里，她似乎有点安心了，可是等她上了大路以后，犯人们那一张张无精打采的绝望的面孔又不断浮现在她的脑海里。
“唉，以后再想吧，"她的决心一下，就把这件事推进了她心中的木材库，把大门也关上了。
思嘉来到棚户区前面的大路拐弯的地方，这时太阳已经完全下去了，附近的树林黑黝黝的，阴森森的。太阳一落，暮色中大地笼罩着刺骨的寒气，冷风吹过黑暗的树林，秃枝断裂，枯叶沙沙作响。她从来没有这么晚一个人待在外面，因此她很紧张，盼望赶快回到家里。
大个子萨姆连影子也没有，思嘉只得停下来等他，不禁为他担起心来，他不在这里，是不是让北方佬抓去了。过了一会儿，她听见通往村子的小路上有脚步声传来，才松了一口气，她想，萨姆让她等这么久，一会儿非要好好训斥他一顿不可。
但是从大路拐弯的地方过来的不是萨姆。
来的是一个衣衫褴褛的大个子白人，和一个小个子黑人，前胸后背都像是个大猩猩，她赶紧抖动缰绳，顺手抄起手枪。
这马刚刚走步，因那白人伸手一拦，便又突然愣住了。
“太太，"那白人说，"给我一个两毛五的硬币吧。饿坏了！"“闪开，闪开！“她一面回答，一面尽量保持镇定。"我没带钱。驾！驾！快跑！"那人手疾眼快，一把抓住了马笼头。
“抓住她！"他对那黑人喊道：“她的钱大概在胸口那儿！"下面发生的事对思嘉来说就像一场恶梦。一切都发生得那快。她只记得她抄起手枪。但她本能地觉得不能对那白人开枪，怕伤了马。那黑人脸上挂着淫荡的微笑，朝着马车跑来，她就对他开了枪，打中了没有，根本不知道。不过紧接着她的手被人紧紧抓住，几乎把手腕子都折断，枪也马上被抢走了。那黑人突然出现在她身旁，因为靠得近，连他身上的臭味儿都闻见了。那黑人想把她拉下车去，她就用那只还能活动的手拼命挣扎，抓那人的脸，后来她觉得那人的大手摸到了她的喉咙，只听哧的一声，她的紧身衣从领口到腰全给撕开了，接着那黑手就在她胸口乱摸。她从来没感到过这么害怕，这么厌恶，就像发疯似地大喊大叫起来。
“快堵住她的嘴！快把她拉下来！"那白人喊道。于是黑人便在思嘉脸上乱摸，摸到了她的嘴，她拼命咬了那人的手，接着又喊叫起来。这时她听见那白人的咒骂声，因此她意识到这漆黑的马路上还有第三个人。萨姆朝这个黑人冲过来，他才松开堵住她嘴的那只手，跳了下去。
“快跑哇，思嘉小姐！"萨姆喊道，一面还在与那个黑人交手。思嘉颤抖着，喊叫着，抓起缰绳和鞭子，把那马一抽就跑起来，她感到轮子底下压着一件软软的有弹性的东西，原来是那白人，萨姆把他打倒以后，他就躺在那里了。
思嘉已吓破了胆，不停地抽打那骑马，马也跑得飞快，弄得马车又颠又摇晃，惊吓之中，思嘉觉得后面有跑动的脚步声，她就连连对马吆喝，让它再跑快点儿。她要是再落到那个黑腥腥手里，就是死了，也不能再让他碰她一碰。
这时一个声音从后面传来：“思嘉小姐，停下！"她没敢让马放慢步子，先战战兢兢地回头一看，原来是萨姆跟在后面奔跑，两条腿快得像动力很大的活塞。思嘉停住车，萨姆赶到跟前，纵身跳到车上，但因快儿大，把思嘉挤到了一边，他脸上，汗水和血混在一起往下淌。他上气不接下气地问：“您伤着了没有？他们伤着您了没有？"思嘉紧张得一时说不出话来，只见萨姆的视线很快移动了一下，朝别处看去，这时她才意识到自己的紧身衣已经撕到了腰，光光的胸脯和内衣都露在外面，她吓得哆哆嗦嗦地把撕开的两边拉在一起，低下头，抽抽搭搭地哭起来。
“把缰绳给我，”萨姆说着，就把缰绳从她手里抢了过去。
“好马，快跑啊！”
鞭子一响，那马一惊，接着就狂奔起来，差一点把车甩到沟里去。
“但愿我把那个黑鬼弄死的，不过我没来得及看清楚，"他气喘吁吁地说。"他要是伤害了您，思嘉小姐，我就非回去把他弄死不可。"“不要----不要----快走吧，"她呜咽着说。