Hoag stifled a groan and struggled to his feet. His legs felt stiff and heavy from inactivity. He stood staring out into the void above the tree-tops. The rocky fastness immediately around was as still as if the spot were aloof from time and space--so still, indeed, that a pebble of the disintegrating cliff being released by the eternal law of change rattled from summit to base quite audibly. From down the mountain-side came boisterous singing. It was Welborne and his supporters. “D'you hear that?” Purvynes asked, as, gun under arm, he got ready to walk on with his companion. “Hear what?” Hoag roused himself as from a confused dream. “Them young devils!” Purvynes chuckled, as if amused. “They need a good lickin'--them boys do. Can't you hear what they are a-singin'?” “No, I can't. I wasn't payin' no attention.” “Why, it's-- “'Jim Hoag's body lies molderin' in the grave.'” Hoag made no answer. He trudged along the rocky path in advance of the other. He stumped his toes occasionally, and was puffing from the exertion. The perspiration stood in visible drops on his furrowed brow. They had reached Hoag's horse, and he was preparing to mount, when a fusillade of pistol-shots, the clatter of horses' hoofs, and loud yells were heard in the distance. “What's that?” Hoag paused with his hand in the mane of his mount, his foot in the stirrup. “Oh, it's just them fellows celebratin' their victory. I'll bet they've already made Nape captain. But you can see how they are a-goin' to run things. We'll see the day, Jim, when us older men will be sorry we didn't let up on this business sooner. You know, I believe the klan would 'a' died out long ago if you hadn't took so much pride in it.” “Me?” “Yes, you, Jim. Over half the members kept in just to curry favor one way or another with you, an' to drink the liquor you furnished on meetin'-nights, an' have som'er's to go.” “I reckon you are mistaken.” “No, I ain't. This thing's been your pet, Jim, but you're lost your grip on it--you have sure. An' you oughtn't to be sorry--I swear you oughtn't to be.” The valley, which he could now see from the back of his horse, was Nature's symbol of infinite peace. From its dark depths rose the dismal hooting of a night-owl, the shrill piping of a tree-frog. CHAPTER XXII |ABOUT this time Paul paid his first visit to the attractive cottage now occupied by Warren and his wife and sister-in-law. As he entered at the front door he saw his mother in the meadow some distance from the house. Amanda was dusting the new furniture in the little parlor, and, seeing him, she came forward with a flushed, pleased look on her round face.