lessly moved diagonally to the other side and glanced over his shoulder at the group of men huddled in earnest talk. He wondered what they were doing there with Logan at such an hour. Maybe a lawsuit. They were all witnesses. Yes, that was it. They were talking over the case before going upstairs to see the lawyer. He quickened his step and gave no further thought to the incident.

As Craig watched the old homestead the lamps were lighted, first in the great hall, then in the parlors and a little later in his mother's room upstairs. He wondered what it meant. Hawkins had kept the place almost in total darkness since his advent. He must have guests. He wondered who they could be. The old scalawag was too mean and stingy to entertain his friends. Could he have placed a guard in the house during the court session? That too was improbable. It would cost money, and Hawkins would have to pay it.

As Craig still stared at the lights gleaming through the shadows of the trees on the lawn, he heard a quiet footstep outside his door and lifted his eyes as a soft signal knock echoed from the panel.

Without rising he called:

"Come in."

The door opened and the lanky figure of Logan entered and without words came down to the desk. There was an uncertainty in his movements that irritated Craig. The lawyer looked up sharply:

"Well, are you ready?"

Logan pulled his drooping mustache, nodded carelessly, and turned back toward the door. Craig rose and followed, hat in hand. To his surprise, Logan merely opened the door, looked out, closed it, took Craig's arm and led him back to the desk.

"Let's set down a minute," he said solemnly.

Craig dropped into his seat with a gesture of impatience, while the lanky figure slowly drew a rickety chair beside him.

"We've no time to lose-" the lawyer cried with a touch of anger.

"I'm a-thinkin' we may save time by not hurryin'," was the quiet answer.

"You're not ready?"

The countryman nodded, drew a white robe and hood from a bundle beneath his coat and laid them on the desk.

"You see I am- 99

"Well, what's the matter?" Craig asked.

The gray eyes of the man opposite held the lawyer's in a steady stare. It was some time before he spoke: "Chief, you told me the last time I wuz in to see you that the Klan's work wuz done—”

The young lawyer fidgeted in his seat, his nervous fingers fumbled a paper cutter, he hesitated and then scowled his answer:

“Just one little call on old Hawkins to-night and we are done for all time.”

Logan shook his head:

"Hit's a ticklish business, Chief. He's a scalawag, but he's a Jedge and there'll be hell to play if we raid him-" "You're afraid?"

Logan pursed his lips.

"Don't make me laugh. I got the sore mouth—”

"Well, what's the matter?"

"Yer best plan's ter leave the Jedge to me. I heard

all about what he done to ye to-day—”

"Leave him to you-what do you mean?"

Logan pulled his mustache thoughtfully.

"Oh, nothin' much. You jest ax for yo' rights in court to-morrow mornin'. They'll be a row, and the Jedge'l' git shot-ac-ci-dental!"

The lean face showed in twitching muscles his deadly

purpose.

Craig shook his head emphatically.

"That's not my way, Ben. I don't ask my friends to do for me what I'm afraid to do myself-come on!" He rose quickly and Logan slowly followed.

Craig's dark eye held the countryman for a moment. "Are you still taking orders?”

The lanky figure stiffened.

"Chief, I followed you through four years of hell in the war. These is more ticklish times. There's a powerful lot o' dam' fools tryin' ter git in the Klan. And some of 'em a-gettin' in. But I'll charge the Pit with my bare hands ef you give the word—”

Craig smiled. The man's faith had touched the deep place in his heart. He knew that the enterprise on which he had embarked was reckless-reckless to the point of insane folly. He also knew that, if he dared to wield the power of the secret order of oath-bound disguised men which he commanded, he could defy authority and do as he pleased.

Yet he felt in the hesitation of this simple, uneducated mind an accusation that made him pause in spite of his resolution.

After a moment's tense silence he placed his hand on Logan's arm.

"Hold your men here for an hour, while I talk to old Hawkins. I'll give the scoundrel one chance."

Logan nodded, lowered the lamp, walked quickly to the door and signaled. One by one, five shrouded forms slowly moved into the room. The white-spiked hoods

seemed to add three feet to each man's height. The moonlight streaming through the uncurtained window wrapped the figures in an uncanny haze.

Each sinister form saluted Craig. He stared in brooding silence, gazing at the lights in his old home and made no response.

U

CHAPTER IV

THE ENCOUNTER

NCONSCIOUS of impending danger Hawkins

slouched carelessly in an armchair beside the

table in the great hall of the Craig homestead, gazing at its age-dimmed portraits with a glow of satisfaction as its owner. What the devil did he care for the bluster of the young fool whom he had disbarred from his court? He had six years yet to serve on the bench. A politicial revolution might sweep him into the Governor's chair before that time. His plans were already laid.

He smoked a cigar with quiet enjoyment, and took up his party organ, The Sentinel, a weekly sheet published at the Capital, to glance at the latest news. His eye rested on an article in the first column of the front page and he read it with growing amazement. Amazement deepened into rage as he scanned the final paragraph.

The front door bell rang and Julius hurried to open it. The negro was evidently expecting this call as well as his master.

Blackmar, the Chairman of the State Executive Committee of Hawkins' party, stepped inside. He paused and slyly whispered to the negro. Julius indicated the back yard. Blackmar winked and nodded. Julius hurried to the kitchen and Blackmar came down briskly to the Judge.

In his anger Hawkins remained seated to show his contempt for his political associate.

He rapped the paper furiously.