A slight commotion made itself manifest at the door of the courtroom. The judge cast an inquiring glance in its direction, and rapping sharply on his desk cried out: "Silence in Court!" The noise increased. A voice was heard calling, "Hold! Hold!" At the sound, Sophronia turned quickly and looked in the direction whence it came. Billy West was calling out, and pressing through the crowd, holding aloft a legal-looking document which he waved excitedly toward the judge. "Hold, your Honor!" he cried again. "Stay the proceedings of the Court! An innocent man is on trial! I have here a sworn confession from the one who killed Squire Bixler. It was Steve Judson. Steve was shot about noon to-day by Jade Beddow, who was also killed in the fight. Steve sent for me to come an' bring a notary public along. "Here is Steve's dyin' statement. Squire Bixler owed him some money and refused to pay it. Steve went to his house that night to collect it, and in a quarrel that followed, he stabbed the Squire. Milton Derr had nothin' to do with the crime. He's innocent!" The excited messenger strode forward and thrust the paper he carried into the outstretched hand of the Judge. A wave of surprise swept over the courtroom, and the murmur of voices grew louder until it finally broke into a loud cheer of victory for the prisoner. After the introduction of this new testimony, the jury promptly retired, and in a few moments brought in a verdict of "Not guilty." In all the confusion that arose with the clamor of many voices around him, Milton Derr seemed to hear but one faint voice close to his ear, to feel the pressure of one gentle hand alone, to look into but one pair of tender, truthful eyes--all the rest was but a blurred and indistinct memory. CHAPTER XXXI. Ten Years After "Sally, those awful Night Riders are around again." "No, Milt, you don't really mean it?" Sally looked up quickly from her sewing across the hearth to where her stalwart husband sat with crossed legs, making of his swinging right foot a make-believe skittish horse for Milton, junior, age three. "Father, what does Night Riders mean?" asked a young girl of nine or ten standing near, who had her mother's fair complexion and richly tinted hair, but her father's dark and expressive eyes. "They are men who band together and ride through the country at night for the purpose of forcing people to do certain things that the band demands. The members usually go masked so that they may not be recognized." "Then they must be wicked men," continued Alice frankly, "if they are so afraid they will be seen. Did you ever see a Night Rider, father?" "A long time ago," answered Milt soberly, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he glanced across at his wife, "and he was a pretty sorry sight, I must say." "Has ma seen one, too?" persisted Alice, with the insistence of childhood.