“Where are you going to get the bail?” he asked.

Adam shrugged and gestured toward the window.

Below, on the sidewalk in front of the jail, was a crowd of men and women and children. Many of them held placards.

The placards read: FREE ADAM CRAMER! JUSTICE FOR CRAMER! CRAMER INNOCENT!

They were moving slowly, circling, like pickets.

Shipman stared out the window until the steel door opened.

“Time,” said Rudy Parkhouse impatiently.

Shipman looked back one time, then he went out of the cell.

Three hours later, Adam was informed that Bart Carey, Al Holliman and Phillip Dongen had deposited the ten thousand dollars in bail money.

Twenty minutes after that, he walked out of the jail and drank in the sweet music which the crowd made for him. They roared and yelled and hit him on the back; and even though there weren’t more than twenty of them, they seemed an army.

Adam walked with Bart Carey to Joan’s Cafe.

The back room was filled to capacity.

The Rev. Lorenzo Niesen shouted a greeting, and stepped away from the central table.

Adam raised his hands.

“I want to thank Mr. Carey and Mr. Dongen and Mr. Holliman,” he said, “for what they done for me. Our friend Verne Shipman offered to get me out, but I told him no, I told him, ‘Looky here, the people will see to it!’ Now, listen, he’s a good man; but he didn’t believe me. And now I want you to know, I’m mighty glad to show him I was right. He knows for sure the folks in Caxton won’t stand still for no injustice!”

“Yah!” called someone.

“Yah! It’s so!”

Adam’s hands lifted again.

“What the sheriff thought,” he said, “was that I was responsible for that dynamiting up on Simon’s Hill. I couldn’t hardly believe he was serious! Said to him, ‘Sheriff, whoever planted that bomb, it wasn’t anybody in SNAP, I can tell you that right here and now!’ ‘Who was responsible?’ he wanted to know. Said, ‘I wouldn’t want to say for sure. But it’s my notion it was one of them nigger-lovin’ integrationists!’ ”

He looked about the suddenly quiet room.

Rev. Lorenzo Niesen was beginning to fidget. Adam saw him throw a glance at another man.

“Well, sir, the sheriff didn’t understand at first. He was so dumb he asked me why an integrationist would want to kill a nigger! Honest! I told him. ‘Sheriff,’ I said, ‘it’s simple. We all are fighting integration. Good God Almighty, we got sense enough to know that killing a nigger preacher and blowing up a church can’t do us nothing but harm!’ But he still didn’t catch on. ‘How you figure that?’ he asked.