Approaching a dense forest, a sound resembling the hooting of an owl was heard, and, turning their horses' heads in the direction whence it proceeded, the various companies, as yet unorganized, galloped forward. The Grand Cyclops of Den No. 5, Realm No. 3, accompanied by two of his faithful Night-Hawks (scouts of the body), had been on the ground in advance of his most punctual followers, and when the magic circle had been formed, and the password circulated, that officer presented himself in their midst, and by the use of a monosyllable, whose signification was understood by all, indicated that the council-fires would not be lighted. Nothing was added, and no word spoken in reply; but so thoroughly had his full meaning been anticipated, that, within thirty minutes from the time this vague proclamation was issued, the weird brotherhood had dispersed, and, in full raiding costume and bearing aloft the banners of the order, were awaiting the commands of their trusted leader at a point two miles distant. The command moved in obedience to signs, and on this occasion, notified by a signal which must have been unintelligible to persons not versed in their strange drill, they wheeled rapidly into line, and instantly broke off from the right of the column in double files, the leaders pushing their horses to a gallop. No word was spoken as the command moved, and so completely had that ghostly spell that attended all the movements of the night-riders fallen upon the weird column, that even the horses trod warily, and beasts of the forest, startled by a glimpse of the dim procession, in vain consulted their organs of hearing for confirmatory sounds. This body of raiders was that viewed from the sick chamber in the Thorburn mansion, described in the opening of this chapter; and we shall seek at this juncture to present to the reader a pen-picture of the formidable apparition as it passed along the highway, in full view, and within fifty paces of the groups of excited observers who looked out from its windows.