The long day is ended at last; the sun has set in a bank of dim clouds. There is no moon as yet, and that orb, which is due above the horizon in exactly eight minutes, by an authentic almanac, will scarcely appear at her best to-night, for the leaden clouds that swallowed up the sun have spread themselves across all the sky, leaving scarce a rent through which the moon may peep at the world.

The darkness is sufficient to cover my journey, and the hour is yet early—too early for birds of the night to begin to prowl, one might think; yet, as I approach Jim Long's cabin, I encounter a sentinel, dimly outlined but upright before me, barring the way.

"Hold on, my—"

"Jim."

"Oh! it's you, Cap'n; all right. Come along; we're waitin'."

I follow him into his own cabin, and stand beside the door, which some one has closed as we enter, while Jim strikes a light. Then I see that the cabin is occupied by half a dozen men.

"Pardner," says Jim, setting down the candle, and indicating the various individuals, by a gesture, as he names them, "this 'er's Mr. Warren, the captain o' the Trafton vigilants."

I turn upon Jim a look of surprise, but he goes placidly on.

"This is young Mr. Warren."

I return the nod of a bright-looking young farmer.

"This is Mr. Booth, Mr. Benner, and Mr. Jaeger."

The three men who stand together near the window bow gravely.

"And this," finishes Jim, "is Mr. Harding."

As Mr. Harding moves forward out of the shadow, I recognize him. It is the man whose recital of the misfortunes of Trafton, overheard by me on the day of my departure from Groveland, had induced me to come to the thief-ridden village.

"I have met Mr. Harding before," I say, as I proffer my hand to him.

"I don't remember," with a look of abashed surprise.

"Perhaps not, Mr. Harding; nevertheless, if it had not been for you I should, probably, never have visited Trafton."

The look of surprise broadens into amazement. But it is not the time for explanations. I turn back to Mr. Warren.

"Am I to understand that you have a vigilance committee already organized here?"

"We have an organized party, sir." Here Jim interposes.

"Ye see, I happen ter belong ter the vigilants. An' when ye asked me ter name a reliable man, why, I jest thought I'd bring you an' Mr. Warren together an' 'twould simplify matters. 'Twant my business to explain jest then."

"Charlie," says Mr. Warren, addressing the young man near the door, "go outside and see that no one comes within seeing or hearing distance. We want Long here."

The young vigilant mounts guard and I turn again to Mr. Warren.

"Mr. Long has explained the nature of my business?"

"Yes, you may be sure it was a surprise to me."

"How many men have you?"

"Fifteen in all."

"And you have all failed to find a clue to the identity of the horse-thieves?"

"Yes, sir, we have failed. We have organized in secret and worked in secret. We hoped and expected to sift this matter to the bottom, and we have failed utterly. But Jim tells me that you have succeeded where we have failed."

"Not quite that. Listen, gentlemen. I know where to put my hands, now, to-night, upon the six horses that were stolen one week ago. If it were merely a question of the recovery of these, I should not need your aid. It might be worth something to me if I recovered the horses, but it will be worth much more to us, and to all Trafton, if we capture the thieves, and they cannot be taken to-night, perhaps not for many nights. We are surrounded with spies; the man we might least suspect, may be the very one to betray us. Our only safe course is to work in harmony, and, for the present, at least, trust none outside of this room. I have trusted this organization to Jim Long, believing in his discretion. He assures me that I can rely upon every man of you."

Mr. Warren bares his head, and comes forward.

"We have all been losers at the hands of these rascally thieves," he says, earnestly. "And we all want to see the town free from them. We are not poor men; the vigilants are all farmers who have something at stake. Show us how to clean out these horse-thieves, and if you want reliable men, they will be on hand. If you want money, that can be had in plenty."

"All we want, is here; half a dozen men with ordinary courage and shrewdness, and a little patience. The moon is now at its full; before a new moon rises, we will have broken up the gang of Trafton outlaws!"

"And why," asks Mr. Warren, eagerly, "must our time be regulated by the moon?"

"Because," I say, significantly, "horse-thieves are seldom abroad on moonlight nights."

An hour passes; an hour during which Mr. Warren, Mr. Harding, and myself, talk much, and the others listen attentively, making, now and then, a brief comment, or uttering an approving ejaculation. All except Jim. He has forced young Warren to join the conference within, and has stood on picket-duty outside, to all appearances, the least interested of any gathered there for counsel.

It is ten o'clock when we separate; the vigilants going their way silently, and one at a time, and Jim and myself returning to the cottage together.

"Ye couldn't have found six better men," says Jim, who has chosen to sustain his rÔle of illiterate rustic throughout the evening. "Ye can trust 'em."

"I have given them no unnecessary information, Long. Not half so much as you have scented out for yourself. They know enough to enable them to do what will be required of them and nothing more."

"Then," with a dry laugh, "they know more than I do."

"If they know that you are actually capable of drawing the reins over the 'nine parts of speech,'" I retort, "they did not learn it from me."

"Then," with another chuckling laugh, "I fancy they don't know it."

Dr. Denham came at midnight, and Miss Barnard greeted him with a smile that ended in a sob.

Evidently "our old woman" had been enlightened concerning her, for he took her in his arms and kissed her with grave tenderness, before going to the bedside of his patient.

He took absolute command of the cottage, and no one, not even Louise, ventured to oppose him or raise the voice of argument. He took all responsibility out of my hands, and dismissed me with his usual formula.

"Go about your business, you young rascal. I might have known you'd be at some new deviltry shortly. Go about your business, and by the time I get Bethel on his feet, you'll have me another patient, I'll be bound."

But Jim found favor in the eyes of "our old woman," who straightway elected him general assistant, and he soon discovered that to be assistant to Dr. Denham was no sinecure. Indeed, a more abject bond slave than Jim, during that first week of Bethel's illness, could not well be imagined.

"Our old woman's" scepter extended, too, over poor Louise. He was as tender as possible, allowing her to assist him when she could, and permitting her to watch by the bedside four or five hours each day. But beyond that she could not trespass. There must be no exhausting effort, no more night vigils.

Louise rebelled at first; tried coaxing, then pouting, then submitted to the power that would wield the scepter.

The good doctor brought from the city a package sent me by my Chief, which he put into my hands at the first opportunity.

It contained papers, old and yellow; some copied memoranda, and two photographs. When I had examined all these, I breathed a sigh of relieved surprise.

Another link was added to my chain of evidence, another thread to the web I was weaving.

Without that packet I had cherished a suspicion. With it, I grasped a certainty.