In most cases the seizure was accomplished quietly, the surprise being so complete as to prevent wholly any resistance. All that the dejected warriors could tell next day was that there had been a noise outside, the door had been opened; the yard had been found full of awful forms wrapped like ghosts in winding-sheets, some of whom had entered the houses, picked up the guns and ammunition, and without a word walked out and disappeared. In other instances, the seizure had not been so easily effected, and in some few places there had been force exerted and violence used. But in every case the guns had been taken either peaceably or by force, and the man who had resisted had only called down on his head severity. One man only had been seriously hurt. It was the man with whom McRaffle had had the difficulty. The whites had not been wholly exempt. Leech had spent the night at Hiram Still’s. They had talked over the events of the meeting and the whole situation. Ash’s speech proposing Leech for Governor had taken well with the negroes, and for the whites they did not care. The whites had evidently been overawed. This was Leech’s interpretation of their quietude. Leech was triumphant. It was the justification of his plan in arming his followers. He laid off his future plans when he should have fuller powers. His only regret was that he had not had Steve Allen arrested for threatening him. But that would come before long. “D—n him! I wish he was dead,” he growled. “Go slow, Colonel; if wishes could kill, he’d ’a’ been dead long ago—and maybe so would you,” laughed Still. “What a——unpleasant laugh you have,” frowned Leech. He did not often allow himself the luxury of a frown; but he found it effective with Still. Next morning Leech was aroused by his host calling to him hastily to get up. Still was as white as death. “What is it?” demanded Leech. “Get up and come out quick. Hell’s broke loose.” [Illustration: KU KLUX—“AWFUL FORMS WRAPPED LIKE GHOSTS IN WINDING-SHEETS.”] When Leech came out, Still pointed him to a picture drawn with red chalk on the floor of the portico, a fairly good representation of the “Indian-killer.” There were also three crosses cut in the bark of one of the trees in front of the door. “What does that mean?” “Means some rascals are trying to scare you: we’ll scare them.” But Still was not reassured. Anything relating to the “Indian-killer” always discomposed him. He had to take several drinks to bring back his courage—and when about breakfast-time the news began to come to them of the visitation that had been made through the county during the night, Leech, too, began to look pale.