John leaped to his feet with a sudden resolution. “I’ll join you at eight o’clock to-night and we’ll give the gentlemen from the hills an unexpected reception.” He seized his hat and closed his office. As Dan turned to go he gave the low quick order: “Gags and ropes for six. Lay low and don’t let anybody know you’re in town.” “I understand,” said the mountaineer, with a grin. “John hurried home, and found to his annoyance that Mrs. Wilson had gone buggy riding with Billy and left the entire work of the house to Susie. “I hate to put more responsibility on your beautiful young shoulders, Miss Susie,” John said hurriedly, “but I must beg you to stop your work and make me a regalia for a little parade to-night--you understand--will you do it?” “With pleasure,” was the smiling answer. “I’ll forgive Mama her idiotic trip with Billy for this chance to serve you.” She looked tenderly into John’s eyes. Before sundown the costume was finished and fitted to the tall figure by Susie’s swift and gentle hands and the last scrap of the cloth gathered up and piled in her work-basket before the first boarder arrived. Supper was an hour late, but Susie was singing at her work when Mrs. Wilson and Billy returned after dark. Nickaroshinski’s cottage was situated on the edge of a deep forest two miles out of town. It was a well-known fact that the old Jew walked to and from his store every morning and evening alone. And it was popularly believed that he hoarded his money under the floor of his bedroom. Had any other man than Dan Wiley reported to John Graham such a projected raid, it would have been beyond his belief. The old Jew was on good terms with everybody. A refugee from Poland, his instinctive sympathies had always been with the oppressed people of the South, and to their cause he had faithfully given what influence he possessed. The idea of such an atrocity by men wearing the uniform of his Klan roused John to the highest pitch of indignation. He was determined to make an example of these scoundrels that would not be forgotten. The stars were shining brightly when he started with his men to the old Jew’s place. It was with a queer consciousness of the irony of fate that he galloped through the shadows to strike horsemen who were wearing the uniform of the mysterious order he had helped to create. The wind freshened and grew chill, heavy clouds obscuring the sky. The darkness became intense. He carefully placed his men in positions to guard every approach to the house, and walked to the door to warn the Jew of his danger and arrange for the capture of the raiders. A sudden crash and groan within told him only too plainly that the scoundrels were already inside.