awful! You know,—but you, how did you escape—how have you endured this horror? Are you well? Unharmed?"
"Unharmed!" she said.
"And this man here?" he asked, encircling her drooping form with one arm and turning toward the Negro. Suddenly he stiffened and his hand flew to his hip. "Why!" he snarled. "It's—a—nigger—Julia! Has he—has he dared"
She lifted her head and looked at her late companion curiously and then dropped her eyes with a sigh.
"He has dared—all, to rescue me," she said quietly, "and I—thank him—much." But she did not look at him again. As the couple turned away, the father drew a roll of bills from his pockets.
"Here, my good fellow," he said, thrusting the money into the man's hands, "take that,—what's your name?"
"Jim Davis," came the answer, hollow-voiced.
"Well, Jim, I thank you. I've always liked your people. If you ever want a job, call on me." And they were gone.
The crowd poured up and out of the elevators, talking and whispering.
"Who was it?"
"Are they alive?"
"How many?"
"Two!"
"Who was saved?"
"A white girl and a nigger—there she goes."
