Into the lumber room of her mind and shut the door upon it.

The sun had completely gone when she reached the bend in the road

above Shantytown and the woods about her were dark. With the

disappearance of the sun, a bitter chill had fallen on the twilight

world and a cold wind blew through the dark woods, making the bare

boughs crack and the dead leaves rustle. She had never been out

this late by herself and she was uneasy and wished herself home.

Big Sam was nowhere to be seen and, as she drew rein to wait for

him, she worried about his absence, fearing the Yankees might have

already picked him up. Then she heard footsteps coming up the path

from the settlement and a sigh of relief went through her lips.

She'd certainly dress Sam 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

trot and 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 any money. 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. She brought up her pistol swiftly and some

instinct told her not to fire at the white man for fear of shooting

the horse. As the negro came running to the buggy, his black face

twisted in a leering grin, she fired point-blank at him. Whether

or not she hit him, she never knew, but the next minute the pistol

was wrenched from her hand by a grasp that almost broke her wrist.

The negro was beside her, so close that she could smell the rank

odor of him as he tried to drag her over the buggy side. With her

one free hand she fought madly, clawing at his face, and then she

felt his big hand at her throat and, with a ripping noise, her

basque was torn open from neck to waist. Then the black hand

fumbled between her breasts, and terror and revulsion such as she

had never known came over 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's face to her mouth. She bit as

savagely as she could and then screamed again, and through her

screaming 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 and screaming, clutched up the reins and whip and

laid them both over the horse. It went off at a jump and she felt

the wheels pass over something soft, something resistant. It was

the white man who lay 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 the buggy rock and sway. Through her

terror she was conscious of the sound of feet running behind her

and she screamed at the horse to go faster. If that black ape got

her again, she would die before he 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 the road behind her, his long legs working like

hard-driven pistons. She drew rein as he came up and he flung

himself into the buggy, his big body crowding her to one side.

Sweat and blood were streaming 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 realized that her basque was open to the waist

and her bare bosom and corset cover were showing. With a shaking

hand she clutched the two edges together and bowing her head began

to cry in terrified sobs.

"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 he hahmed you, Miss Scarlett, Ah'll go

back an' mek sho of it."

"No--no--drive on quickly," she sobbed.

CHAPTER XLV

That night when Frank deposited her and Aunt Pitty and the children

at Melanie's and rode off down the street with Ashley, Scarlett

could have burst with rage and hurt. How could he go off to a

political meeting on this of all nights in the world? A political

meeting! And on the same night when she had been attacked, when

anything might have happened to her! It was unfeeling and selfish

of him. But then, he had taken the whole affair with maddening

calm, ever since Sam had carried her sobbing into the house, her

basque gaping to the waist. He hadn't clawed his beard even once

when she cried out her story. He had just questioned gently:

"Sugar, are you hurt--or just scared?"

Wrath mingling with her tears she had been unable to answer and Sam

had volunteered that she was just scared.

"Ah got dar fo' dey done mo'n t'ar her dress."

"You're a good boy, Sam, and I won't forget what you've done. If

there's anything I can do for you--"

"Yassah, you kin sen' me ter Tara, quick as you kin. De Yankees is

affer me."

Frank had listened to this statement calmly too, and had asked no

questions. He had looked very much as he did the night Tony came

beating on their door, as though this was an exclusively masculine

affair and one to be handled with a minimum of words and emotions.

"You go get in the buggy. I'll have Peter drive you as far as

Rough and Ready tonight and you can hide in the woods till morning

and then catch the train to Jonesboro. It'll be safer. . . . Now,

Sugar, stop crying. It's all over now and you aren't really hurt.

Miss Pitty, could I have your smelling salts? And Mammy, fetch

Miss Scarlett a glass of wine."

Scarlett had burst into renewed tears, this time tears of rage.

She wanted comforting, indignation, threats of vengeance. She

would even have preferred him storming at her, saying that this was

just what he had warned her would happen--anything rather than have

him take it all so casually and treat her danger as a matter of

small moment. He was nice and gentle, of course, but in an absent

way as if he had something far more important on his mind.

And that important thing had turned out to be a small political

meeting!

She could hardly believe her ears when he told her to change her

dress and get ready for him to escort her over to Melanie's for the

evening. He must know how harrowing her experience had been, must

know she did not want to spend an evening at Melanie's when her

tired body and jangled nerves cried out for the warm relaxation of

bed and blankets--with a hot brick to make her toes tingle and a

hot toddy to soothe her fears. If he really loved her, nothing

could have forced him from her side on this of all nights. He

would have stayed home and held her hand and told her over and over

that he would have died if anything had happened to her. And when

he came home tonight and she had him alone, she would certainly

tell him so.

Melanie's small parlor looked as serene as it usually did on nights

when Frank and Ashley were away and the women gathered together to

sew. The room was warm and cheerful in the firelight. The lamp on

the table shed a quiet yellow glow on the four smooth heads bent to

their needlework. Four skirts billowed modestly, eight small feet

were daintily placed on low hassocks. The quiet breathing of Wade,

Ella and Beau came through the open door of the nursery. Archie

sat on a stool by the hearth, his back against the fireplace, his

cheek distended with tobacco, whittling industriously on a bit of

wood. The contrast between the dirty, hairy old man and the four

neat, fastidious ladies was as great as though he were a grizzled,