He paused and thrust the whip into Craig's face and growled :

"Smell it!"

He took another drink of whisky, rolled up his sleeves and planted his feet to strike the first blow when a Klansman rushed into the room in wild excitement.

"Every man in line-quick-they are fighting inside the gate!"

Lowery led the guardsmen to the door and dispatched them to the front.

"Go to it, boys-I'll fix Craig."

The white messenger had slipped close to Craig and whispered. His face flamed red. The figure suddenly slashed the ropes that held his arms and thrust the knife into his hand.

As Lowery turned from the door he saw the knife flash and knew that he had been betrayed. With a leap he bore the white figure to the floor, tore off his mask and saw Sammy.

The boy fumbled for his pistol and could not reach it. Lowery reversed the big whip handle, and smashed two terrific blows across the young forehead. The boy's body quivered and was still.

Craig had cut the cords at his feet and before Lowery could rise he was on him and plunged the knife into his shoulder. With a groan of terror Lowery loosed his grip and stretched full length.

In a moment Craig seized the pieces of rope with which he had been tied and securely bound the tough's arms and legs.

He rushed to the boy, took his head in his arms and bent low to catch his words as he smiled feebly.

"I'm glad I got here in time, sir-please tell my father I did my level best!"

Craig smoothed the tangled hair back from the bloodstained forehead, as Sammy died in his arms. While he still held the warm lifeless form the pistol shot in the next room rang its call of peril to Claudia.

He lowered the body gently, took the revolver from Lowery's belt, replaced the iron box inside the range and rushed into the corridor.

T

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE TREAD OF SOLDIERS

HE raw youngsters who composed the rank and file

of the Klansmen under Anderson were formidable

only when led in solid mass against their assailants. In the woods under the shadows of brush and tree they were practically helpless against the rough-and-ready woodsmen who made up the vigilantes under Logan.

When the news spread that their leader had fallen desperately wounded the vigilantes sprang on their foes with a new savage courage. They drove the white sheets before them like sheep. It was not until they reached the open spaces inside the gates of Inwood that Anderson succeeded in rallying them. They had lost their horses in the woods and were fighting now as infantry armed only with revolvers.

Anderson and his officers succeeded in forming a line of a hundred frightened boys in a semicircle inside the gates. He ordered them to lie flat in the broom sedge and hold their fire until the enemy passed the gates.

There was a long ominous silence that got their nerves. Not a shot came from the woods.

"What'ell are they up to now?" a white figure asked the one lying next.

"Search me," was the nervous answer.

An officer walked by in the moonlight and repeated the command.

"Hold your fire now till the whole gang passes the gates and then let 'em have it. Keep your places flat in the

grass and pour it into them. I'll shoot the first fool that

They waited for five minutes more and still there was no sign of the dark figures in the open. A horse neighed in the woods and his shrill call sent the cold chills down their spines. They thought of the possibility of a mass of roughriders pounding them to death as they lay like helpless lizards in the grass. A boy started to run. An officer fired and he dropped flat.

"None of that now!" he yelled. "They are not mounted. It was only a loose horse neighing."

Another minute passed in silence and from the woods suddenly roared again the Confederate yell as a squadron of dark horsemen plunged through the gates, spread into a charging wave and swept down on the prostrate white figures. The moon's rays showed their position clearly.

The charge was more than undisciplined flesh could bear. The white forms rose and fled toward the ruins in wild confusion. No stand was made until they reached the débris of the fallen house. The officers there succeeded in bringing them to a stand behind the marble pillars and the sheltering shadows of fire and pines.

The vigilantes quickly dismounted and charged on foot. The steady crack of revolvers echoed now from every heap of fallen masonry, from every pillar, and from every shadow of the ruins. With their backs to the wall the frightened boys were fighting, every man for his life. When their ammunition ran out they clinched with their bare hands and fought like beasts in the tangled briars and underbrush.

When Craig rushed into the corridor at the pistol shot from the next room he stood for a moment puzzled. The steady rattle of revolvers overhead told him that the battle was at the doors. The shot he had heard might have been

from without. As he listened to determine if possible the position of his friends, he heard Claudia scream. With a bound he was at the door. They had barred it from the inside. He threw his weight against it and on the rebound looked up and saw the awkward white figure of Wilkes' preacher friend. His eyes were glittering through the holes in his hood as he held a lantern aloft. He was trembling with fear but managed to say, uplifting his hand:

"Peace, my friends-the Lord is our shepherd!” Craig's fist landed squarely on his jaw and he sprawled on the stone floor. Claudia screamed again and Craig heard fingers inside fumbling the bar. He threw the full weight of his body against the door. It flew wide open and the unexpected impact knocked the three of them into the center of the room. From the floor Wilkes' lantern threw a sickly light on the group. Claudia had freed herself and backed away instantly.

Wilkes with a shiver of fear saw Craig-his hair on end, the naked muscles of his bare body bruised but knotted and quivering with deadly purpose. His right hand gripped the revolver. He looked the avenging Nemesis that he was as he crept slowly toward Wilkes, trying to get Claudia out of line of his pistol.

Wilkes saw his deadly intention and moved in the exact line of the girl's position. Craig paused.

"Come out, you coward, from a girl's skirts. I'll give you a chance with your gun. Stand up, if you're a man.” Wilkes danced back and forth to keep himself between Claudia and Craig and finally managed to whisper to his guard:

"Pot him-pot him-why don't you pot him-"

Craig heard his order and shifted his eyes to the black hood beside his enemy. As the white arm moved upward with stealthy purpose, he fired and the Klansman dropped.