to happen about the valley it usually did happen, and very soon thereafter.

Tom and his father came into supper and ate quietly, while the women served them, this being the custom in this country. The fact that they were non-communicative now was because no doubt they had said, before entering the room, all that was necessary concerning the plans for the night. Nora remained in silence, ate her meal and cleared away the dishes, still holding the silence. She gazed up at the twinkling stars dancing in the heavens, at the great moon shining brightly, sending darting rays through the foliage of the large trees overhanging the cabin. A silvery mist hung over the mountain and flitted through the valley, the while the stars smiled down on the troubled earth. Troubled? Yes, all mankind is troubled down the valley. Over all the deep blue of the heavens dropped a shining sheen to cover the already beautiful landscape. From afar over the mountain the voice of the night-bird came gliding through the mist, the "hoot" of the night owl sounded a note of warning, the sleepless animals of darkness pealed forth their notes of joy as they gamboled over the green mountainside, and down, far down in the depths of the rich valley, the cow-bell tinkled as the cow nibbled the sweet green grass. None of these had thoughts of fear, none of these discerned the great danger to humanity, none of these felt the deep heart throbs that beat in the breast of humanity.

It is growing late, but Nora Judson did not retire at her usual hour. She dared not, lest she should lose the sight that had greeted her on many similar occasions. However, she should not fail in one duty, her evening prayer. This had been a lifelong duty, taught her early. Even in the roughest and most rugged parts of this great universe the children are taught that God liveth and reigneth. Somehow God gets into the most seemingly forsaken communities in the remotest corners of the earth, and lets it be known that He is the Almighty. He assumes power everywhere. The child of the wildest region learns some form of prayer. Mrs. Judson had taught Nora in her earliest days to say "Now I lay me down to sleep," but knowing that she was not going to sleep this night Nora said to herself, "What shall I do? what shall I do? fer I hain't a-goin' to lay me down ter sleep this night. I hain't. O Lord, what shall I say?"

Strange as it may seem, it had never occurred to her that any form of speech other than she had been taught would be a prayer, therefore she was utterly lost to know how to proceed. She looked wonderingly heavenward as if to catch inspiration. Then it was that the thought was aroused within her, the thought that she should pray for others. Her pure young heart had found a way to speak to God, so she bowed her head and clasped her hands and said tenderly, "O God,"—she hesitated as if gathering thought for expression,—"kin Ye keep a secret? Ef Ye kin, don't tell anybody how the old brindle cow got under the wire. Don't, fer goodness' sake, 'cause ef ye do, hit mout git him into trouble. O God, he is so nice. Them han'some eyes of his'n is a-hauntin' of me yet, an' he was so good ter help me find old brindle an' drive her home. I was askeered to come up ther road by myself, but I didn't want to let on to him like as ef I was, 'cause he mout a-thought I was weak, an' he was so good an' spoke so tenderly an' kind-like.

"No man hain't never spoke to me that away afore, not even Al Thompson; but I 'spect I don't keer nuthin' 'bout Al, an' maybe I never did; an' he said he was here for his health an' would raise ter—he said to-bac-co. He knows, an' that must be right. O God, I hope Ye didn't let Tom see him as he was a-goin' back ter his shanty, 'cause ef ye did, hit mout bring on more trouble fer him, an' I know Ye don't want him to get into trouble. Tom's a good boy an' don't mean anybody harm, but——"

Nora stopped and leaned forward, straining her ears to catch the weird sound. From toward the mountain there came the clattering of many horses' feet as they fell heavily upon the rocky hillside. On they came. Nearer and nearer, louder and louder, the clattering sound grew.

Every strike of a hoof upon the rocky way was like a needle driven into her breast over her heart. With few words she cut her prayer short. Looking heavenward she muttered imploringly, "Save him, an' let old brindle git out again sometime."

She stepped over to her one lonely, paneless window, pulled the latch string, shoved the wooden panel aside and, peering out into the gloom, listened with heavy beating heart to the clatter of the horses' feet as they drew nearer. Heretofore this same sound had been as sweet music in her ears. She had grown up in the midst of it, and her heart bounded with great pleasure whenever she heard such a sound; but now it was different, somehow she did not enjoy it. The many horsemen drew nearer, until she could see them bounding rapidly down the mountain road.

Outside she saw two lone horsemen in saddles, standing by the gate, as immovable as statues. Silently they sat, neither horse nor rider moving, not a sound escaping their lips. The mighty throng of horsemen were now passing directly in front, and the two silent watchers of the night quickly joined the mad race. Not a word escaped any of them until they were nearing Jack Wade's cabin. Then one fellow leaned over and whispered, through his heavy dark head-gear, to his companion nearest him, "Wonder if he'll fall in, too?" There was no reply. Perhaps one was not expected.

On they flew, black demons of darkness, destructive vultures of freedom, cutting the wind as if they had been a two-edged sword; slashing the mist with their foaming steeds, dark steeds, as dark as the starless night; enshrouded in caps as dark as the cloud-covered moon, speaking never a word, but groaning destruction deep down in their revengeful souls.

Jack Wade was awakened from a peaceful slumber by the thundrous tramp of the horses' heavy feet as they galloped swiftly by. He rose stupidly and went out, but as he looked, saw nothing, yet it seemed to him that the very atmosphere of the valley was alive with fantastic dancers. The weird spectacle grew before his sleep-ladened eyes, until the devils of hell seemed encrouched about him. Evidently they were bent on tearing his heart asunder, for there they were preparing to spring upon him.

"Begone, ye devils!"

The beat of the horses' feet falling upon the softer ground grew fainter and fainter, until the sound could be heard no more. Wade sat in his doorway pondering and wondering over the strangeness of the people among whom he had taken up his abode. He knew that the noise which woke him had been made by the tramping of many horses, but knew not whither they were bound, nor what their errand. He sat for a long time looking down through the lowlands, dreaming, pondering. Ever the great dark eyes of the valley girl danced in the moonlight space before him. Her soft stare, tender hands, and innocent expression haunted him. Out in the deep distance a dog was baying. The horsemen had no doubt awakened him as they had awakened Wade, and he was entering his protest in loud and continuous bays. Behind him a rooster was crowing the midnight hour, his own wall clock tolling the same hour. Overhead the moon was shining brightly, sending her silvery rays to greet all the earth.

Suddenly there arose over the valley the shout of many voices, mingled with the baying of as many dogs, then the midnight air was rent in twain by the vibrations caused from the firing of pistols and rifles.

"What now?" thought the ponderer. "Ye gods! this is a fearful condition."

Some two miles away a faint red light grew up out of the mist. Wade strained his eyes in an effort to discern more clearly the cause. The light grew until the watcher could clearly discern the flickering blaze as it leaped high into the heavens, apparently bent on devouring the very stars that gave light to the darkened earth. Still the blaze grew, sending forth