of devils. I have seen
their disguise, and under that long red tongue, which is made of
flannel, and moved by the wearer's real tongue, there is a leather bag,
inside of the disguise--and into it they pour the water; not down their
throats."

"Dat so, Mars Ed'ard?" cried several, drawing a long breath of relief.

"Yes, that is so, boys. And they've been threatening and abusing you
to-night?"

"Yes, sah, dat dey hab!" cried a score of voices, and one after another
showed his wounds, and told a piteous tale.

Elsie and her namesake daughter wept over their losses and sufferings:
the medicine closet was unlocked and its stores liberally drawn upon for
materials to dress their wounds, both master and mistress attending to
them with their own hands; and at the same time speaking soothing,
comforting words, and promising help to repair the damage to their
property, and make good their losses: also to bring their enemies to
justice if that might be possible.

It was broad daylight ere the work was finished.

The veranda was nearly empty now, the people slowly returning to their
homes--Mr. Travilla having assured them the danger was past for the
present--when Elsie caught sight of a woman whom she had not observed
till that moment.

The poor creature had dropped down upon a bench at the kitchen door. Her
right arm hung useless at her side; with the left she held the bloody
corpse of a puny infant to her breast, and the eyes she lifted to the
face of her mistress were full of a mute, tearless agony.

Elsie's overflowed at the piteous sight. "O my poor Minerva," she said,
"what is this they have done to you and poor little Ben?"

"Oh, oh, oh, Miss Elsie! de Ku Kluxes dey shot tru de doah, an' de balls
flyin' all roun', an'--an'--one hit me on de arm, an' killed my baby!"
she sobbed, "oh! oh! oh! de doctah mend de arm, but de baby,
he--he--done gone foreber;" and the sobs burst forth with renewed
violence, while she hugged the still form closer, and rocked herself to
and fro in her grief.

"Gone to heaven, my poor Minerva, to be forever safe and happy with the
dear Lord Jesus," her mistress said in quivering tones, the tears
rolling fast down her own cheeks.

"An' he neber hab no mo' miseries, honey," said Aunt Dicey, drawing
near; "no Ku Klux come into de garden ob de Lord to scare him or hurt
him; bress his little heart!"

"Wish we all dere, safe an' happy like he! Let me wash off de blood an'
dress him clean for