ome yet. I told him to come last."

The crowd waited and the knights waited--so long that the Mayor rose in
his seat some twenty feet away and called out:

"Go ahead, Budd."

"You jus' wait a minute--my man ain't come yet," he said easily, but
from various places in the crowd came jeering shouts from the men with
whom he had wagered and the Hon. Sam began to look anxious.

"I wonder what is the matter?" he added in a lower tone. "I dressed him
myself more than an hour ago and I told him to come last, but I didn't
mean for him to wait till Christmas--ah!"

The Hon. Sam sank back in his seat again. From somewhere had come
suddenly the blare of a solitary trumpet that rang in echoes around the
amphitheatre of the hills and, a moment later, a dazzling something shot
into sight above the mound that looked like a ball of fire, coming in
mid-air. The new knight wore a shining helmet and the Hon. Sam chuckled
at the murmur that rose and then he sat up suddenly. There was no face
under that helmet--the Hon. Sam's knight was MASKED and the Hon. Sam
slapped his thigh with delight.

"Bully--bully! I never thought of it--I never thought of it--bully!"

This was thrilling, indeed--but there was more; the strange knight's
body was cased in a flexible suit of glistening mail, his spear point,
when he raised it on high, shone like silver, and he came on like a
radiant star--on the Hon. Sam's charger, white-bridled, with long mane
and tail and black from tip of nose to tip of that tail as midnight. The
Hon. Sam was certainly doing it well. At a slow walk the stranger drew
alongside of Marston and turned his spear point downward.

"Gawd!" said an old darky. "Ku-klux done come again." And, indeed, it
looked like a Ku-klux mask, white, dropping below the chin, and with
eye-holes through which gleamed two bright fires.

The eyes of Buck and Mollie were turned from Marston at last, and
open-mouthed they stared.

"Hit's the same hoss--hit's Dave!" said Buck aloud.

"Well, my Lord!" said Mollie simply.

The Hon. Sam rose again.

"And who is Sir Tardy Knight that hither comes with masked face?" he
asked courteously. He got no answer.

"What's your name, son?"

The white mask puffed at the wearer's lips.

"The Knight of the Cumberland," was the low, muffled reply.

"Make him take that thing off!" shouted some one.

"What's he got it on fer?" shouted another.

"I don't know, friend," said the Hon. Sam; "but it is not my busi