On reading the threatening anonymous missive which her husband had put in his pocket and forgot to change to his other coat, Sally quickly found food for disquieting thoughts. What if the Night Riders should learn that he was away delivering his tobacco, and were to come during his absence? Still, if they intended coming, she hoped that it might be on this special night while her husband was away from home. She did not fear for herself but only on his account.

Then she fell to wondering when her husband had received this warning—there was no date on the note from which to learn. Milt had made no mention of its receipt, even when he was talking about the Riders to her the night before. This silence on his part, and the fact that he had so suddenly decided on delivering his tobacco at once, won her to the belief that the threat was a thing of very recent occurrence, perhaps of the past few hours, and that to it was due his present haste to get his barn empty before any unwelcome nocturnal visit should be made.

Suppose the Riders had spies out, and were aware of the fact that her husband was even then delivering his crop to independent buyers, and should try to capture him on his way home. A great uneasiness took possession of her at this thought, and after several futile attempts at sewing, she finally let the garment drop to the floor, and with clasped hands sat staring intently into the fire, and listening anxiously for some sound betokening her husband's return. Every now and then she went to the front door, and looked anxiously out. The early spring night was crisp and cool and the stars shone brightly. Each time there was no disturbing sound to mar the deep stillness that greeted her, and after listening awhile, she went again within doors and sat down by the fire.

The night slowly wore on as she sat there listening, almost in the same spot where the Squire had sat ten or twelve years before, as he, too, listened anxiously to hear the approaching hoofbeats that would advise him the Night Riders were on their way to attack the New Pike Gate, and that the desired capture of his nephew was but a matter of brief delay.

On the third or fourth trip to the front door, Sally heard the sound of approaching horses, not the ones that Milton and his men had used for the hauling of the tobacco, but a small cavalcade, coming rapidly down the road. There was a certain familiar ring of the iron shoe on the hard surface of the pike, that struck a sudden key-note of fear in her bosom as she listened. She remembered that ominous sound as she rode alone to the old stone quarry the night that Milt was put on trial as a traitor. Perhaps the band was still inclined to look upon him as one, although the evil influence of Jade Beddow was no longer to be feared.

Sally found herself mentally tracing the approach of the cavalcade along the public highway from the direction of the hill country whence it came. Now the horsemen were galloping along a level stretch of road some distance away, then there was a curve and the sound diminished, and presently almost died away as a deep cut in a hillside was reached.

Again it grew clearly distinct, increasing as the horsemen drew nearer the avenue gate. Would they pass on by? The listener fervently hoped that this might be the case, but no, close upon the hope, there was a brief cessation of hoofbeats, then she heard the click of the avenue gate-latch as the cavalcade came through. The Night Riders were again a thing of actual reality. Her first thought was one of thankfulness that Milt with his rash impetuous nature was not there to defy or enrage them, her second a regret at her own utter helplessness. She closed the door softly, locking it, and went into the room where she had been sitting. She remembered also to close the door between this room and the smaller one beyond, in which the children were soundly sleeping, then she stood still waiting.

The subdued sound of horsemen coming down the avenue and circling around the house reached her acute ears, and soon upon this came a clear sharp "Hello!"

She went slowly to the window, and raising it, partly opened a shutter and looked out.

"What is wanted?" she asked.

"We want Milt Derr. Tell him to come out."

Sally was on the point of saying that her husband was not at home, when suddenly there flashed into her mind the thought that perhaps she might be able to pacify them and send they away before Milt should return.

"What do you want of him?" she asked.

"We want to talk over the tobacco question."

As Sally glanced back into the room and saw Milt's coat lying on the floor where it had dropped from her idle fingers, a scheme quickly popped into her head that she resolved to put into execution.

"All right!" she answered, "I will call him and have him dress and come out."

Some minutes later the front door opened and the muffled figure of a young man in a large overcoat, and with a hat slouched over his face, stepped out into the starlight.

"Show us your tobacco beds," a voice demanded.

The figure nodded assent and went slowly in the direction of the garden, while several of the masked horsemen followed close upon its footsteps.

When the garden-gate was opened, the figure silently pointed to a long white stretch of canvas running the length of the north boundary fence, and protected by it.

"Tear off that canvas!" demanded the leader, and as the covering of thin cotton was stripped from the bed, two or three of the horsemen rode up and down it, crushing the young plants and grinding them into the yielding soil, then a portion of the frame of the bed was dragged the entire length of the bed, scraping from its surface whatever plants had escaped the trampling iron hoofs.

When this had been accomplished, the torn canvas was gathered up by the horsemen, and the silent guide ordered to lead the way to the tobacco barn.

On reaching it, two of the riders dismounted and went within, carrying the cloth with them, but soon they reappeared.

"The barn is empty, the tobacco has been removed," they announced to the leader.

"Empty, is it?" he answered with an oath, "then fix it so it will not shelter another crop."

The men went inside again, and soon a dull light began to glimmer through the cracks between the boards, rapidly growing in brightness as the flames began to fasten over the dry surface of the wooden framework, aided and fed by the tobacco sticks that were being piled like fagots high upon the spreading blaze. Short tongues of flame leaped upward, and crept out here and there along the blazing walls, while spirals of copper-colored smoke began to uncoil into the night like fiery serpents, scattering myriads of sparks in their trail.

The scene began to light up weirdly, throwing a ruddy glow against the sky, and bringing into sharp relief the surrounding objects. The horses and their masked riders stood boldly out like statues of ebony from the background of bright light.

"Boys, give the dumper twenty-five lashes!" cried the leader.

The two men afoot, who had fired the barn, started toward the motionless figure that had looked on helplessly and silently, keeping as much in the shadow as possible. Almost at this moment a slight commotion was heard in the direction of the barn-lot gate, and several masked men came through the gateway, bringing with them a prisoner.

"Here is the dumper who has sold his tobacco!" they cried. "He is just getting in from delivering it. We took him off the wagon just now."

"What fellow is this?" demanded the leader looking in the direction of the shrinking figure the two riders were about to lay hold upon.

Sally, throwing back the heavy coat and pulling the slouch hat from her head, answered:

"It is I. A woman."