hman.

Caesar Jackson rushed ahead and opened the gate, and the cavalry from
Storm swept out into the road.

The girl had planned her sortie with the lightning instinct of a born
general, an inheritance, perhaps, from various Kildares who had played
their parts in the wars of the world. The road behind Storm resembled
the fateful sunken lane of Waterloo, hidden between higher land on
either side, topped by fences which made scattering of forces
impossible. Nothing was to be heard in the darkness except the dull
thudding of hoofs, an occasional startled bellow, the choked laughter of
the two lieutenants as they herded their forces along at a smart trot.

Where a side road branched toward the Henderson cabin, Jacqueline gave
her final instructions. "Silence till I shoot off the pistol, then yell,
yell for all you're worth! and drive 'em in at a gallop."

"My _golly_!" gasped Lige, in an ecstasy that almost lost him his seat.

Everything was propitious. An obliging moon came suddenly from the
clouds and showed them a group of horses tethered about the cabin;
showed them also men tying a struggling figure to a tree in the front
yard. Then came a sound that drove the mirth out of the girl's face, and
left it white and stern--the cry of a man in mortal terror.

"Brutes, beasts!" she muttered. "Now then, you boys--"

Off went the pistol. Out of three pairs of young and vigorous lungs
burst such a rebel yell as might have startled Grant's army in its long
sleep, let alone twelve or fourteen nervous and uneasy "Possum Hunters."

They did not stop to see what was upon them. They heard the yell, the
shot, the soft thunder of many galloping feet, and they made for their
horses. Some got away straddling the crupper, some embracing their
steeds about the neck. After them galloped the regiment from Storm,
bellowing and braying, with its rearguard of two boys and a girl quite
helpless with laughter.

Where the lane debouched into the highroad the rout became sheer panic,
for there pursued and pursuers ran full tilt into the glare of a large
automobile, from which a voice called "Halt!"

"The Sheriff, the Sheriff!" cried somebody.

Night Riders were to be seen scattering in all directions, leaping into
cornfields, scurrying into the woods. In a moment there was nothing left
of the raid except a few sweating, quivering thoroughbreds, and many
steers and mules that fell at once to cropping the wayside grass with
the composure