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"Would you like a drink, Mr. Ditmas, to pick you up?" offered Zed.

"N-never drink, Zed, sank ye—t-t-teetotallar.—What was I about to say, Abner?"

"Something about the law, Mr. Ditmas."

"Law. . . . Oh, yes, yes. I see, and I want to—to impress this on you, Abner, 'press this great fack on you. This—dis-this—disingenuous method of l-law and business here in South been a long gradual development, Abner—ver' long, an' ver' gradual. I see it all before me, Abner—hist'ry of the South." Mr. Ditmas made a weaving gesture. "Look at slavery. Slavery committed the South to stress the ex-exact words of a contrack above the ax-actual human rights it contained, Abner. Declaration of Independence did-didn' 'clude niggers. Constitution Newnited States didn' 'clude niggers. Property rights in a human bein', Abner, p-prevailed over natural right of man to his own life. You—you see, in the ver' beginnin' the South obtained unfair advantages through con-contrack. What result? She made a great point of ad-adhering to the letter of the law, not the spirit. What result? Her laws are a maze of technicalities that won't convict anybody for anything—technicality—get out on technicality. What result? Whitecaps, mobs, posses, lynchin's, burnin's, beatin's. You've seem 'em; you know, Abner. . . ."

He lay staring with uncoördinated eyes past the boys at his sinister vision; then he went on thickly: "An' it's spreadin' all over our nation, Abner—ever'where—technicalities—precedent—losin' the spirit of the law in the letter—an'—whitecaps. But—but nobody's to blame. Since there's no law of right, there must be one of might. Mobs and whitecaps, all over our nation. North and South, East and West, anywhere, ever'where—but there's nothin' to do. That's what I want to 'press on you, Abner; nothin' to do. You're a citizen of the South, and of the United States, Abner, and don't you do nothin' a-tall about it, Abner—f' th' ain't nothin' to do. . . ."