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The moment Lonnie replied, Clem turned and ran off into the night. Lonnie went after him a few steps, as if he had suddenly changed his mind about helping him, but Clem was lost in the darkness by then.

Lonnie waited for a few minutes, listening to Clem crashing through the underbrush in the patch of woods a quarter of a mile away. When he could hear Clem no longer, he went around the barn to meet Arch.

Arch came out of the house carrying his doublebarreled shotgun and the lantern he had picked up in the house. His pockets were bulging with shells.

“Where is that damn nigger, Lonnie?” Arch asked him.”Where’d he go to?”

Lonnie opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“You know which way he went, don’t you?”

Lonnie again tried to say something, but there were no sounds. He jumped when he found himself nodding his head to Arch.

“Mr. Arch, I—”

“That’s all right, then,” Arch said.”That’s all I need to know now. Dudley Smith and Tom Hawkins and Frank and Dave Howard and the rest will be here in a minute, and you can stay right here so you can show us where he’s hiding out.”

Frantically Lonnie tried to say something. Then he reached for Arch’s sleeve to stop him, but Arch had gone.

Arch ran around the house to the front yard. Soon a car came racing down the road, its headlights lighting up the whole place, hog pen and all. Lonnie knew it was probably Dudley Smith, because his was the first house in that direction, only half a mile away. While he was turning into the driveway, several other automobiles came into sight, both up the road and down it.

Lonnie trembled. He was afraid Arch was going to tell him to point out where Clem had gone to hide. Then he knew Arch would tell him. He had promised Clem he would not do that. But try as he might, he could not make himself believe that Arch Gunnard would do anything more than whip Clem.

Clem had not done anything that called for lynching. He had not raped a white woman, he had not shot at a white man; he had only talked back to Arch, with his hat on. But Arch was mad enough to do anything; he was mad enough at Clem not to stop at anything short of lynching.

The whole crowd of men was swarming around him before he realized it. And there was Arch clutching his arm and shouting into his face.

“Mr. Arch, I …”

Lonnie recognized every man in the feeble dawn. They were excited, and they looked like men on the last lap of an all-night foxhunting party. Their shotguns and pistols were held at their waist, ready for the kill.

“What’s the matter with you, Lonnie?” Arch said, shouting into his ear.”Wake up and say where Clem Henry went to hide out. We’re ready to go get him.”

Lonnie remembered looking up and seeing Frank Howard dropping yellow twelve-gauge shells into the breech of his gun. Frank bent forward so he could hear Lonnie tell Arch where Clem was hiding.

“You aint going to kill Clem this time, are you, Mr. Arch?” Lonnie asked.

“Kill him?” Dudley Smith repeated.”What do you reckon I’ve been waiting all this time for if it wasn’t for a chance to get Clem. That nigger has had it coming to him ever since he came to this county. He’s a bad nigger, and it’s coming to him.”

“It wasn’t exactly Clem’s fault,” Lonnie said.”If Pa hadn’t come up here and fell in the hog pen, Clem wouldn’t have had a thing to do with it. He was helping me, that’s all.”

“Shut up, Lonnie,” somebody shouted at him.”You’re so excited you don’t know what you’re saying. You’re taking up for a nigger when you talk like that.”

People were crowding around him so tightly he felt as if he were being squeezed to death. He had to get some air, get his breath, get out of the crowd.

“That’s right,” Lonnie said.

He heard himself speak, but he did not know what he was saying.

“But Clem helped me find Pa when he got lost looking around for something to eat.”

“Shut up, Lonnie,” somebody said again.”You damn fool, shut up!”