that the search began in earnest. The Negro, after jumping off the car,
lost himself for a few moments in the crowd, but after a brief search he
was again located. The slight delay seemed, if possible, only to whet
the desire of the bloodthirsty crowd, for the reappearance of the Negro
was the signal for a chorus of screams and pistol shots directed at the
fugitive. With the speed of a deer, the man ran straight from the corner
of Canal and Villere to Customhouse Street. The pursuers, closely
following, kept up a running fire, but notwithstanding the fact that
they were right at the Negro's heels their aim was poor and their
bullets went wide of the mark.

The Negro, on reaching Customhouse Street, darted from the sidewalk out
into the middle of the street. This was the worst maneuver that he could
have made, as it brought him directly under the light from an arc lamp,
located on a nearby corner. When the Negro came plainly in view of the
foremost of the closely following mob they directed a volley at him.
Half a dozen pistols flashed simultaneously, and one of the bullets
evidently found its mark, for the Negro stopped short, threw up his
hands, wavered for a moment, and then started to run again. This stop,
slight as it was, proved fatal to the Negro's chances, for he had not
gotten twenty steps farther when several of the men in advance of the
others reached his side. A burly fellow, grabbing him with one hand,
dealt him a terrible blow on the head with the other. The wounded man
sank to the ground. The crowd pressed around him and began to beat him
and stamp him. The men in the rear pressed forward and those beating the
man were shoved forward. The half-dead Negro, when he was freed from his
assailants, crawled over to the gutter. The men behind, however, stopped
pushing when those in front yelled, "We've got him," and then it was
that the attack on the bleeding Negro was resumed. A vicious kick
directed at the Negro's head sent him into the gutter, and for a moment