These essential requisites to a good citizen were altogether insufficient, in the eyes of the Ku Klux Klan in that vicinity, to balance the bad points (in their esteem) which characterized him, inasmuch as he was a Radical in principle. This fault was considered good cause for forwarding to Thompson a sharp "warning" from the camp, which was sent him in the customary form, and he was ordered to restrain himself in the utterance of his Radicalism, or quit the country. If he failed to obey, then he would receive a visitation from the K. K. K.'s, and that meant death. To this notice he gave no attention, but laughed at the threat and awaited events. A second warning was then sent him, couched in the following terms:-- "One of three things will happen to you, very shortly. You will leave the country, so that we can never find you--change your politics--or be turned into Buzzard Bait. K. K. K." To this expressive, but not over polite missive, Thompson returned a somewhat defiant reply, proceeded at once to fortify his cotton gin-house, in which he remained at night, and dared the Klan to come for him. During the month of September, 1871, matters had assumed such a position in this man's case, that the Klan felt that Thompson must be annihilated, or the "reign of terror," which they had inaugurated in the county, would be broken--and a reaction take place among the people, inimical to themselves. Numbers of the band were accordingly detailed by the Commander of the Camp of Clinch County, to put Thompson out of the way. They were headed by Shimmie Timmerson, formerly sheriff of that county; a man notable for his unusual brute force and personal resolution. The Klan approached Thompson's gin-house on the night of the assault, cautiously, and as they supposed, unobserved. Each one of them was well armed, and disguised in black gowns, masks and hats. Thompson, who had been constantly on the watch, discovered them upon their first appearance. He relied upon the solid door of the gin-house, which he supposed would withstand a much heavier shock than it did. It gave way upon the first assault, which was made with a heavy piece of timber, battered against it by the assailants; and which shivered it to splinters. As the door crashed in, Thompson opened such a rapid fire upon the marauders, as to lead them to suppose that the gin-house was full of armed men. This belief had been strengthened, from the fact that its only occupant shouted simultaneously with the discharge of his weapons: "Give it to 'em, boys! Don't spare a man." Timmerman (the ex-sheriff), who led this gang, fell at the first fire, seriously though not mortally wounded. Several others of the party bit the dust, and the entire band at once beat an ignominous retreat--bearing with them their wounded; and leaving their single-handed and brave opponent master of the situation.