This is to inform the grate White mens klan that the Blak Foxes has met in secret session and took axion to protect ther rights. Paysyence has seased to bee a vurture. The white klan has lernt the foxes the trick of how to work in the dark. Wait and see the mighty fall. We know who the Captin is at last. We also know some of his main followers who is workin for his smile and his gold. We don't want his cash. We are after his meat and bones. Hel will take his sole. His body wil hang for crows to peck out the eyes. No power above or below this earth can save him. He wil never know the day or the hour. But his doom is seeled. They need Marse Jimmy down where the worm dyeth not. He has sowed his seed, and his harvest is rype. Woe unto hym and awl his gang. Signed in the blood of Blak Buck the Captin of the Foxes. his (Blak X Buck) mark. The sheet of paper shook, though the morning air was as still as a vacuum. Hoag was as white as death could have made him. He silently folded the paper and handed it back. But Purvynes waved it aside with a dumb gesture of despair. “Whar did you git it?” finally fell from Hoag's lips. “It was tacked up on my corn-crib. I seed it from the kitchen window yesterday mornin' 'fore breakfast. I went out an' pulled it down.” Hoag had never attempted a more fragile sneer. “An' you let a puny thing like that scare you out o' your socks,” he said, flamboyantly. Purvynes's hat-brim went down and his eyes were not visible to the desperately alert gaze of his companion. “I can take my own medicine, Cap,” he answered, doggedly, “but I can't manage women. They read the thing 'fore I could hide it, an' you know what excited women would do at the sight of a sheet like that. My wife's been ag'in' our doin's all along, anyway.” Hoag perused the sheet again, his putty-like lips moving, as was his habit when reading. “How do you reckon,” he glanced at the drawn face beside him, “how do you reckon they got on to _me_ as--as the main leader?” Purvynes was quite sure he could answer the question. “Nape Welborne's gang give it away. They've been braggin' right an' left about how Nape forced you to back down that night. They've been drunk an' talked 'fore black an' white like a pack o' fools.” “But from _this_,” Hoag tapped the fence with the folded sheet, “it looks like the nigger that wrote, this thinks I am _still_ the head.” “An' so much the worse,” Purvynes moaned, and he clutched the fence nervously as if to steady himself. “You an' me an' all us old members has to suffer for the drunken pranks of them young roustabouts. When they shot up nigger-town last week, an' abused the women an' children, the darkies laid it at our door. In fact, that is the cause of this very move. It was the last straw, as the sayin' is. They've got plumb desperate, an' when niggers work underhand they will resort to anything. It's quar, as my wife says, that we never thought they might turn the tables an' begin our own game.”