It was close upon 10 o'clock at night—a late hour for a lonely traveler in this remote locality amid the hills—and Milton Derr was homeward bound. As he neared the vicinity of Alder Creek meeting-house, up in the hill country, another horseman came out of a lane into the public road just as he was passing.

Hailing a fellow voyager, as was the custom of the neighborhood, Derr recognized an acquaintance and promptly checked his horse until the other came alongside.

"Hello, Steve! Isn't it a little late for an honest man to be abroad?" Milton asked, after friendly greeting from his companion.

"Well, yes, and it seems I'm not the only one in that plight," retorted the other, with the quick repartee belonging to these people.

His companion laughed good-naturedly at the thrust, and the two rode on together for some little distance, when Milton Derr, suddenly changing the drift of the talk said:

"Well, I've been thinking over that matter we were speaking about the other day."

"To what purpose?" asked the other.

"I'm in half a notion to become a member of the band."

"The other half's needed before you can get in, you know," answered Steve, laconically.

"Well, I'm nearing that point now," admitted Derr, after a thoughtful pause. "I think I should like to have some voice in this question of free roads myself, as it promises to be an important one."

"In that case I can easily arrange it for you. There'll be but few men around here who won't belong to the band before toll-gate raiding is over," said the other, impressively. "Folks have been bled by fat corporations long enough."

"When could I join?" asked Derr, after some moments of meditative silence.

"When?" echoed his companion. "Tonight, if your mind's made up."

"Well, then, it is," said Derr, decisively. "How am I to go about it?"

"Just follow me. If you really mean business, I can take you straight to where the band is holding a meeting this very night."

"All right," answered the prospective candidate. "Lead the way!"

The two turned into a dirt lane beyond the meeting-house, Derr keeping close by the side of his guide, while the hoofbeats of the two horses suddenly grew muffled by the softer bed of the lane in exchange for the macadamized pike.

There was no moon to light the way, and the faint starlight that had made easily traceable the white, dust-covered surface of the highway was now absorbed and lost in the dull clay of the lane. Where the trees and bushes overhung the path a dense obscurity prevailed. Both man and beast were familiar with night riding along country byways, however, so the two travelers rode rapidly on, unmindful of the darkness or the twisting road.

A mile farther on they quitted the lane, passing through a gate into a fallow field adjoining, which they crossed, and finally came to the outer fringe of a dense thicket.

Here they halted, while Steve, placing his fingers to his lips in a certain manner, blew a low, peculiar whistle, like the call of some sombre night bird, which was answered later from somewhere amid the bushes. Close upon the answering call a dark form emerged from the shadowy copse near at hand, and a voice asked gruffly:

"Who goes there?"

"Friends."

"What are you seeking?"

"Free roads."

"Dismount!"

Steve dropped from his horse and went forward to where the dark form stood, while Derr, with his ears alert and lively interest aroused, heard him announce that he had brought one who craved membership with the band.

After learning the name of the candidate for initiation, the figure seemed to melt into darkness again, while Steve came back to his horse and companion to await the return of the messenger.

"It's all right; come along!" said Steve at another signal from amidst the bushes. The two men quickly hitched their horses to some saplings growing near, and found a narrow path leading down between the underbrush. Steve led the way, Milton following close upon his footsteps, while the mysterious messenger, who wore a half-mask over the upper part of his face, brought up the rear. There was a tinge of romantic adventure about the whole affair that strongly appealed to the new candidate.

The path led down to a secluded hollow in the midst of the thicket—a remote and lonely spot, far removed from human habitation, it seemed, and little liable to intrusion—a spot well chosen for a secret midnight rendezvous.

In the midst of the copse lay a small clearing, and in its center the three men came suddenly upon a group gathered around a smouldering fire, built of brushwood piled against a log.

The uncertain blaze but dimly lighted the scene, but it was sufficient to bring into clearer view the dark forms of a body of men vaguely outlined against the darker bushes surrounding them, while the faces of the members of this secret band were partly concealed under soft slouch hats, and strips of black cloth, such as the guide wore, tied over the upper part of the face, with holes cut in the cloth for the eyes.

This partial concealment of the features gave an air of weird mystery to the secret conclave—a touch of the uncanny mingling with the strange and romantic.

A swift thought darted into Milton Derr's brain as he suddenly recalled his sweetheart's words of warning given him at meeting the Sunday before, that perhaps he had been led into a trap, of whose setting his uncle was cognizant, and that the members of this secret organization meant to do him bodily harm.

If such should be their will and purpose, he was entirely at their mercy. No friendly aid could reach him in this remote and dismal spot, where even a cry for help would die unheeded upon the still night air. Yet, as these disturbing thoughts darted through his excited brain, he stood erect and motionless, and his calm face gave no sign of inward fear. If he was called upon to yield his life it should be rendered as became a brave man, but he would endeavor to sell it as dearly as possible.

Standing in that sombre spot, the spirit of distrust bearing heavily upon him, he gave a swift, sweeping glance of inquiry around, noting the shadowy forms of the men that seemed to merge into the impenetrable darkness, while the uncertain, flickering blaze of the fire but dimly lighted the gloomy depths of foliage beyond, rising like a mysterious barrier to shut out freedom and the outer world. The grim silence of the group surrounding him still further served to deeply impress the new candidate for initiation, and to make manifest the fact that whatever of good or evil might be in store for him, it was now too late to retract the words that had helped to bring him thither.

The young man found himself vaguely hoping, as he glanced keenly from one to another of the silent brotherhood, that among these masked faces, whose fantastically concealed features were turned darkly in his direction, there might be at least some friendly and familiar ones if uncovered to the light.

At the conclusion of the initiation, made yet more impressive to the candidate because of his lively imagination, aided and fed by the remoteness of the spot and the gloom of the night, after Derr had taken the solemn oath of the order to obey its captain and preserve all secrets, the raiders began to bare their faces to the new member.

As the half-masks were raised, one by one, Milton Derr saw that several members of the band were acquaintances of his, one or two were more intimate friends, while others he knew only by sight and some were strangers.

The captain was the last to remove his mask, and as he did so the new raider recognized in him the one man, of all others dwelling amid these hills, he least desired or expected to serve under—Jade Beddow.