It should not be imagined that these five members constituting the committee were fair representatives of the organization. Indeed, most of the Barley Hullers were honorable, well-meaning, hard-working men, who had joined the society in the hope that it might better their condition both socially and financially. There was an air of mysticism surrounding the order, as there is surrounding all secret societies; and while nothing was positively known of its inside workings, except by its own members, yet the Barley Hullers was at this time held in high regard by the Farmers’ Alliance societies throughout the country. As usual, however, the rank and file became only tools in the hands of a few demagogues who managed to gain and hold control for the sole purpose of pelf and plunder. CHAPTER IX.—AN AFTERNOON DRIVE HUGH STANTON was not only a successful, hard-working young man of affairs, but he possessed innate refinement and gentleness. Scrupulously honorable himself, he frequently gave others credit for higher and more manly attributes than they really possessed. His unusually dark hair and fair skin would cause the most casual observer to turn and look at him a second time. His small feet and hands and tapering fingers suggested effeminacy; but Hugh Stanton was not effeminate, for his heart was strong and manly. In appearance he was an ideal society man—a veritable Beau Brummel. As a matter of fact, however, he had scarcely any knowledge of society or of its ways. His father had fought in the battle of Bull Run, and later at Bethel Church. Hugh was then an infant in his mother’s arms. The young mother was heartbroken when she learned that her husband was numbered among the missing. She died a year later. The son was christened with his father’s name and was given a home with his uncle and guardian. He possessed a studious turn of mind, and, even as a boy, had been noted for his success at school. Later, he led his classes with distinction at Princeton. Dr. Jack Redfield was Hugh’s ideal of true manliness, and, to the credit of Jack, his measure of sterling manhood was Hugh Stanton. After their college days they had kept up, in an intermittent way, their social relations, but, as year after year went by, each became more and more absorbed in his own special pursuits, and gradually they drifted away from their old chum-day relations. Although Hugh had lived at Meade for a month, he had never thought of writing to Jack Redfield, and if Jack had been asked Hugh’s address, he could not have given it, for the very good reason that Hugh had neglected naming his objective point in the West. One morning when Captain Osborn came to the bank he handed Hugh a daintily perfumed, monogrammed note. Opening it, Hugh found an invitation from Mrs. Osborn to drive with her that afternoon to the Hortons, where they were expected to dine. Hugh offered the note to the captain, who asked, “Well, what is it?” looking at Hugh over his glasses.