“You admit it?” Shipman said sternly.

Joey shook his head.

“That’s too bad. You give us no choice.”

Harley Paton tried to move, but was restrained by the bulk of Abner West. “Where are you taking that boy?”

Adam Cramer said, “To the jail, Paton. We—”

“Later on, maybe, to jail,” Shipman said.

Adam Cramer faced the big man. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re taking a little trip to the river first. Going to jail won’t mean much unless this boy’s sorry for what he did. But he isn’t sorry. He don’t even admit he’s guilty.” Shipman smiled at Harley Paton. “You know the old story, Paton: ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child.’ ”

Al Holliman reached out and ripped Joey’s shirt off. He tore it into three sections and used the sections to tie the boy’s hands behind his back.

“You’re going to regret this,” the principal said. “Every one of you!”

“Maybe you’d like to come along, you so worried about the jig!” West said.

Niesen said, “Yes, yes. Why don’t you do that, Mr. Paton, just join our little party and make sure nobody hurts nobody!”

Paton slumped weakly. His eyes burned deep into the eyes of the young man in the neat dark suit. Miss Angoff, who had come out, stood watching helplessly.

The hour rang out from the clock in the courthouse then, and someone shouted “Let’s go!” and the crowd rushed in a tide.

They were halfway across the lawn, halfway to the street, when a single voice, louder than the angry murmuring, louder, it seemed, than the courthouse bell, cried: “Wait a minute!”

Joey Green looked up, saw two figures walking toward him. One, he recognized instantly: the girl. The other, a red-faced, fat-bellied man, he’d never seen before. The man was breathing hard. He held the girl in a firm grasp and pulled her along, like a cotton doll, and breathed hard.

When he reached the crowd, the man removed his hand from the girl’s wrist and raised it in an odd salute to Adam Cramer. “Like I told you,” he said, smiling, “you never want to be too sure of anything.”

Shipman snapped “Who are you?” in an angry voice.

“Nobody too important. The name is Griffin. Sam Griffin.”

“Well, what do you want?”

Sam stared at Adam for a long moment, then said: “Nothing, now.”

“Then move aside. We’ve got important business to attend to.”

“What kind of business, Mr. Shipman?”

Shipman glanced at Ella McDaniel, at Joey. A muscle in his cheek began to twitch.

“You fellas aim to do anything to this nigger-boy?” Sam asked quietly.

“Griffin, I don’t know who you think you are, and I don’t know why you’ve brought this girl—”