Important when a boat is sinking. But look around you at your

friends. Either they are bringing their boats ashore safely with

cargoes intact or they are content to go down with all flags

flying."

"They are a passel of fools," she said shortly. "There's a time

for all things. When I've got plenty of money, I'll be nice as you

please, too. Butter won't melt in my mouth. I can afford to be

then."

"You can afford to be--but you won't. It's hard to salvage

jettisoned cargo and, if it is retrieved, it's usually irreparably

damaged. And I fear that when you can afford to fish up the honor

and virtue and kindness you've thrown overboard, you'll find they

have suffered a sea change and not, I fear, into something rich and

strange. . . ."

He rose suddenly and picked up his hat.

"You are going?"

"Yes. Aren't you relieved? I leave you to what remains of your

conscience."

He paused and looked down at the baby, putting out a finger for the

child to grip.

"I suppose Frank is bursting with pride?"

"Oh, of course."

"Has a lot of plans for this baby, I suppose?"

"Oh, well, you know how silly men are about their babies."

"Then, tell him," said Rhett and stopped short, an odd look on his

face, "tell him if he wants to see his plans for his child work

out, he'd better stay home at night more often than he's doing."

"What do you mean?"

"Just what I say. Tell him to stay home."

"Oh, you vile creature! To insinuate that poor Frank would--"

"Oh, good Lord!" Rhett broke into a roar of laughter. "I didn't

mean he was running around with women! Frank! Oh, good Lord!"

He went down the steps still laughing.

CHAPTER XLIV

The march afternoon was windy and cold, and Scarlett pulled the lap

robe high under her arms as she drove out the Decatur road toward

Johnnie Gallegher's mill. Driving alone was hazardous these days

and she knew it, more hazardous than ever before, for now the

negroes were completely out of hand. As Ashley had prophesied,

there had been hell to pay since the legislature refused to ratify

the amendment. The stout refusal had been like a slap in the face

of the furious North and retaliation had come swiftly. The North

was determined to force the negro vote on the state 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 and Alabama,

"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 military regulations which had seemed so

stringent the year before were now mild by comparison with the ones

issued by General Pope. Confronted with the prospect of negro

rule, the future seemed dark and hopeless, and the embittered state

smarted and writhed helplessly. As for the negroes, their new

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 still made her rounds alone, with Frank's

pistol tucked in the upholstery of the buggy. She silently cursed

the legislature for bringing this worse disaster upon them all.

What good had it done, this fine brave stand, this gesture which

everyone called gallant? It had just made matters so much worse.

As she drew near the path that led down through the bare trees into

the creek bottom where the Shantytown settlement was, she clucked

to the horse to quicken his speed. She always felt uneasy driving

past this dirty, sordid cluster of discarded army tents and slave

cabins. It had the worst reputation of any spot in or near

Atlanta, for here lived in filth outcast negroes, black prostitutes

and a scattering of poor whites of the lowest order. It was

rumored to be the refuge of negro and white 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 to investigate and generally left the

Shantytowners to settle their own dark affairs. Back in the woods

there was a still that manufactured a cheap quality of corn whisky

and, by night, the cabins in the creek 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 no steps in this direction. Indignation

was loud among the inhabitants of Atlanta and Decatur who were

forced to use the road for travel between the two towns. Men went

by Shantytown with their pistols loosened in their holsters and

nice women never willingly passed it, even under the protection 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 not even the most impudent negro

woman dared laugh in her presence. But since she had been forced

to drive alone, there had been any number of annoying, maddening

incidents. The negro sluts seemed to try themselves whenever she

drove by. There was nothing she could do except ignore them and

boil with rage. She could not even take comfort in airing her

troubles to her neighbors or family because the neighbors would say

triumphantly: "Well, what else did you expect?" And her family

would take on dreadfully again and try to stop her. And she had no

intention of stopping her trips.

Thank Heaven, there were no ragged women along the roadside today!

As she passed the trail leading down to the settlement she looked

with distaste at the group of shacks squatting in the hollow in the

dreary slant of the afternoon sun. There was a chill wind blowing,

and as she passed there 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 and around the bend of the road.

Just as she was beginning to draw a breath of relief, her heart

rose in her throat with sudden fright, for a huge negro slipped

silently from behind a large oak tree. She was frightened but not

enough to lose her wits and, in an instant, the horse was pulled up

and she had Frank's pistol in her hand.

"What do you want?" she cried with all the sternness she could

muster. The big negro ducked back 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 whom she 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 denim breeches and a blue Union uniform jacket

that was far too short and tight for his big frame. When she saw