Keegan took charge of him and hustled him off to jail, where he was locked up.  The Negro does not at all resemble Robert Charles, but it was best for his sake that he was placed under lock and key.  The crowd was not in a humor to let any Negro pass muster last night.  The prisoner gave his name as Luke Wallace.

But now came the real excitement.  The train had slowed down almost to a standstill, in the very heart of town.  Somebody shouted:  “There he goes, on top of the train!” And sure enough, somebody was going.  It was a Negro, too, and he was making a bee-line for the front end of the train.  A veritable shower of bullets, shot and rifle balls greeted the flying form, but on it sped.  The locomotive had stopped in the middle of the square between La voisier and Newton Streets, and the Negro, flying with the speed of the wind along the top of the cars, reached the first car of the train and jumped to the tender and then into the cab.  As he did several white men standing at the locomotive made a rush into the cab.  The Negro sprang swiftly out of the other side, on to the sidewalk.  But there were several more men, and as he realized that he was rushing right into their arms he made a spring to leap over the fence of Mrs. Linden’s home, on the wood side of the track.  Before the Negro got to the top one white man had hold of his legs, while another rushed up, pistol in hand.  The man who was holding the darkey’s legs was jostled out of the way and the man with the pistol, standing directly beneath the Negro, sent two bullets at him.

There was a wild scramble, and the vision of a fleeing form in the Linden yard, but that was the last seen of the black man.  The yard was entered and searched, and neighboring yards were also searched, but not even the trace of blood was found.  It is almost impossible to believe that the Negro was not wounded, for the man who fired at him held the pistol almost against the Negro’s body.

The shots brought out almost everybody—­white—­in town, and though there was nothing to show for the exciting work, except the arrest of the Negro, who doesn’t answer the description of the man wanted, Gretna’s male population had its little fan and felt amply repaid for all the trouble it was put to, and all the ammunition it wasted.

+BRUTALITY IN NEW ORLEANS+

Mob rule reigned supreme Wednesday, and the scenes that were enacted challenge belief.  How many colored men and women were abused and injured is not known, for those who escaped were glad to make a place of refuge and took no time to publish their troubles.  The mob made no attempt to find Charles; its only purpose was to pursue, beat and kill any colored man or woman who happened to come in sight.  Speaking editorially, the Picayune of Thursday, the twenty-sixth of July, said: 

+ESCAPED WITH THEIR LIVES+

At the Charity Hospital Wednesday night more than a score of people were treated for wounds received at the hands of the mob.  Some were able to tell of their mistreatment, and their recitals are briefly given in the Picayune as follows: