The Nightriders' Feud

By Walter C. McConnell

NEW YORK
THE COSMOPOLITAN PRESS
1912

Copyright, 1912, by
Walter C. McCONNELL

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV

The Nightriders' Feud

CHAPTER I

John Redmond, the second, had just completed his education in a New York college, having been graduated with high honors, and was therefore prepared to go out into the world and set it on fire with his brilliancy. But the call of the great business world was strangely superseded by the "call of the wild," which had long since taken firm hold upon his young heart. Since his earliest recollections his soul had longed to go out into the wild Western country, and he was now fully determined to appease his adventurous appetite amid the great wild mountains of the West.

Thoughts concerning his future flitted fast through his study-ladened brain as the train sped on toward his home. Yes, he would go to the mountains and seek gold or coal where others, with less ability to find, had passed over the immense wealth which must surely lie hid deep beneath the great earthen mounds. This wealth, he thought, had been placed there by the Maker of the mighty earth, that his great skill as an engineer might be made known to the world. It was there for his own pleasure; it had not been intended that others should make the discovery. His training would enable him to make discoveries which others had not been skillful enough to make. The life would be just to his liking, and would fill a long-felt desire to invade the bowels of the hitherto uninvaded depths of rocky earth. It was not his intention to delay one moment; he would go at once.

The train sped on, and he reached his home in good time. There he was greeted with the sad news that his uncle, John Redmond, for whom he was named, had been slain by murderous Nightriders over in the valley of Kentucky. His tobacco crop had been utterly destroyed, his barns and out-houses devastated, his home burned to the earth, and as he was fleeing from the burning building, in an effort to save himself from a torturous death, he had been shot down in his tracks like a dog, a forty-four Winchester bullet tearing his heart to pieces.

What more would man need to set his soul on fire? What more would he need to raise his ire to the verge of distraction?

John Redmond, the second, stood with bowed head, listening to the terrible outrage; his Southern blood warmed to the boiling point. His heart beat fast, his teeth came together with a sharp noise, and his fists were tightly clenched. Revenge burned within him, his soul felt that the foul deed called for vengeance. In a twinkling his plans were changed. His adventurous spirit told him that his life's work had been found, that he must hie him to the country where his uncle had met such a hasty and untimely death; that he must seek out those who had murdered him and revenge the cold deed.

John Redmond had hardly known this uncle, having seen him only one time, but he was a kinsman, the same blood ran through their veins, their forefathers were the same, and he would be speedily avenged.

The younger Redmond sent agents into Kentucky to purchase land, and in a little while all preparations for a hasty departure had been made. The cabin purchased needed repair, but that would be done with his own hands. He would have plenty of time for all such work.

His intention was to go over and raise tobacco in direct opposition to the great association of good farmers. Let them do what they would, he would show them that he was a man of his own notions, and no set of men could run him, much less a body of uneducated "galoots."

Next you see of John Redmond he is crossing the country by wagon train. Slowly his caravan moves, finally reaching the place purchased for the future home of this man of strong desires and peculiar aims. The belongings were unloaded, and those who assisted him in the move bade him a successful ending and returned to civilization. While John Redmond, who introduced himself to this new country as "Jack Wade," was making preparations for a comfortable living, the eyes of the surrounding community were cast upon him. Slowly and untiringly he labored for a few weeks, getting everything in comfortable condition, seeking the assistance of the few loafing farmers, until matters were fairly arranged and everything fixed up comfortably for bachelor quarters.

If one should have been standing on the hill at a time very near sunset one afternoon, he could have seen Jack Wade, the graduate engineer, standing at the bars or gate leading from his horse-lot to a plot of ground used as a pasture for his one cow and one horse. He no longer has the appearance of a soft-skinned school-boy, but rather is dark and ruddy, the warm Kentucky sun having changed his complexion. He has on a blue shirt, soft, with collar attached, high-top boots, into the legs of which his corduroy pantaloons are stuffed, in the style of a true Westerner. He has one foot resting upon the lower wire while his arms fell loosely across the top wire. He is surveying with his keen dark eye the surrounding country, not having had time heretofore to look about him.

Over yonder, about one mile to the south of him, is a farmhouse; over to his right, and a little to the northwest, is another cabin. Behind him looms up the huge mountain,