to let it pass on the grounds of ignorance. He hesitated to spring the important question first. He had sent him. a written order on the personnel of the new panel in order to avoid any possible argument.

Wilkes' first question was spoken casually.

"Any sign yet of an attempt to rescue Craig from jail?"

“No,” Anderson answered quickly, "and there won't be." Wilkes studied his man carefully, still puzzled as to his real mood. Again he avoided the main issue.

"You've doubled the guard?"

The Sheriff nodded.

"Sure."

So far, so good. He would come to the point and ask his next question as if this answer, also, were a foregone conclusion.

"You have ordered every old Klansman excluded from the new jury panel, as I wrote you?"

Anderson's mouth twisted into an ugly smile as he looked at the lawyer.

"Not by a damn sight—”

Wilkes leaped to his feet and the two men confronted each other. Anderson was first to speak, and his tone was even more emphatic than before.

"I don't take such orders from you, Mr. District Attorney. I was elected by the people Sheriff of this county. I was not appointed by you-”

"But I am conducting this trial, sir-"

"Trial-hell," Anderson sneered. "You don't want to try Craig. You want to murder him."

Wilkes' gaze fell under the steady stare of the Sheriff. He threw up his hands at last and changed his tone to friendly protest.

"Ah, have common sense, Anderson. Craig is our

mortal enemy. Until the Klan puts him out of the way we are going to have trouble."

"I'm not afraid of him," the Sheriff broke in.

"All right," Wilkes agreed, "we'll let it go at that. At least you will exclude every old Klansman from the court room from to-day?"

"I will not," was the quick reply. "I am an old Klansman. I joined the new for a purpose. There are a lot of men just as good as I am who didn't come into the new. They've just as much right in that courtroom as you

or me."

"No, they haven't," Wilkes interrupted angrily. “They are no longer Klansmen. They have proved themselves quitters. The duty of Klansmen is to stand together against the world-"

He paused, drew close, and slipped an arm around the sturdy figure of the Sheriff.

"Anderson, you and I are real Klansmen. It is our duty to practice Klanishness. What we decide to be right is right, because we say so. The man on the outside has no rights. He had his chance to come into the circle and get protection by obedience to his superior officers. The Klan is going to run this state now. The regular forms of government will be merely the instrument we will use to enforce our orders. No man in this county has any right in this courthouse unless we see fit to give it to him. We've got the power of life and death over every man, woman and child in this county. Wake up! You're still dreaming of the old days before the Klan was organized. Then, courts and laws meant something. Now, they mean nothing except what we decide they shall mean. Can't you see this?"

The Sheriff smiled and studied the ceiling a moment before answering.

"Suppose every damn fool in the county, then, should join the Klan?"

"We won't let them!" Wilkes snapped. "There will always be enough left on the outside for the men inside to ride. You don't realize your power. Open your eyes. We are the absolute masters of this state to-day. The Governor is merely an officer of the Klan. He takes his orders from us. When we say dance, he dances. When we say sit down, he sits. The office I hold under the old laws of the state is nothing. As District Attorney I am the mere tool of the district Klan. It is my duty to execute their orders-"

Anderson lifted his hand suddenly and frowned.

"But you took an oath to obey and enforce the laws of the state!"

"Sure. But there are no laws except our decrees. We took an oath as Klansmen to stand together against the world. That oath comes first. Before every obligation of life, law, religion, friendship, even the closest ties of blood. It's your duty to execute your own father if the Klan orders it. It's my duty to answer this call and execute the Governor of the state if ordered to do it. This secret power is the mightiest weapon ever put into the hands of men. We are supreme. The high titles our

officers assume is not bombast. These titles stand for realities. Shake off your old habits of thinking and wake up to your new powers. I'm your superior officer in the Klan. I want these old Klansmen kept from the courtroom to-day-won't you see to it ?"

Anderson stubbornly shook his head.

"Can't see it, Wilkes. Everything you say about the Klan is so, I reckon. It must be so. But I can only go as far as my light shows me. A lot o' these fellows you want to keep out of the courthouse voted for me for

Sheriff. To tell you the plain God's truth, I joined the Klan to get this office, and I'm goin' to try to hold on fer life. I'm goin' to try to give both sides a square deal. I just got a hunch that's the best thing for me, now that I'm in. It may not be best for you, but I think it is for me -SO long."

The Sheriff rose from the desk and carelessly strolled from the room. Wilkes watched him in sullen rage. He began to see clearly that he must move with caution, both in the courtroom and in the safer plan of revenge through the Klan which he had foreseen when he pledged his word to Claudia.

C

CHAPTER XXVI

MOB RULE OR LAW?

RAIG'S bondsmen offered the Court to be respon

sible for their prisoner during the trial if the Judge

was willing to waive the formality of law that required him to be held in jail during the trial. The presiding Judge, a mild-mannered gentleman of the old school who had known Craig's father and had implicit confidence in his honor, was willing to accept his parole with his bondsmen's pledge if it were agreeable to the District Attorney.

Wilkes scorned the idea and demanded not only that he be kept in jail, but that a double guard of armed deputies be set around the prison to insure his safety. Craig's bondsmen surrendered their prisoner with ugly looks at the new District Attorney, and hastened to summon another guard to insure the safety of their friend.

On the morning of the fourth day, the trial really began. The jury had been impaneled, and the prosecution opened with a savage attack on Craig's character. The defendant refused to reply. A score of able lawyers offered their services to the prisoner, but he declined all and conducted his own defense with a single young lawyer to attend its details while he was in jail.

The storm had blown out the night before, and the sparkling sun brought an enormous crowd of countrymen into town. The roads were practically impassable to wagons, but they came in on horseback and on foot, streaming over every road.