The colored people knew that it meant death to resist and they paid the men as though nothing unusual had happened.
Belton had learned to observe and wait.

These outrages sank like molten lead into his heart, but he bore them all.

The time for the presidential election was drawing near and he arose in the chapel one morning to lecture to the young men on their duty to vote.
One of the village girls told her father of Belton's speech.

The old man was shaving his face and had just shaved off one side of his beard when his daughter told him.

He did not stop to pull the towel from around his neck nor to put down his razor.