emp without trial. But a good thick coat of tar
and feathers will become his style of beauty fust-rate; and if we uns
ride him on a rail, he will dance a jig with his feet in de air and
will look more cute than ary Injun you uns ever see daubed with his war
paint and feathers."

The five men laughed heartily at this remark, and seemed to anticipate
with delight the fulfillment of their foul plot.

"We owe him a good one fer capturin' Long Tom and makin' him pious and
an enemy of our bizness," said Bert Danks, captain of the Honey Crick
band, "and I hope you uns won't be sparin' of de tar ner easy with de
rail. Get one of them three-cornered hickory rails, and that'll do the
thing up brown."

"Whar is de best place to s'prise him?" asked Wiles.

"I'll tell yer," spoke Zibe Turner, and his monkeyish face lit up with
a smile almost diabolical and his piercing black eyes shot a keen and
excited look into the group, "I hearn that he has an appintment next
Chewsday night at de top of Bald Knob, and to go there from his home he
will have to take de Pigeon Crick road, cross de crick at Farley's and
then branch off inter de big woods before he climbs de knob. Now de
level place jest by de foot of de knob is a lonely spot, away from de
big road, de trees air mighty high and large, and few people pass that
way. I say let's strip and dress him thar."

"Agreed!" shouted the rest in concert.

"Bert," spoke Wiles, "we'll look to you to git de tar, and I'll bring a
pot from mammy's kitchen to heat it in. I'll also take without her
knowin' it some feathers from her feather bed. You, Zibe, are to
furnish de rail, and see that you git a sharp and strong one."

"'Pend on me for dat, and if he don't cry for marcy, it'll not be my
fault."

As a parting caution Wiles remarked: "All you fellers keep mum on this
subject, for we don't want to miss de fun ner be cotched in it."

Now it happened that Mose Williams, Judge LeMonde's most faithful negro
servant, was attending to an affair of his own that Sunday evening not
strictly demanded by his obligations to his master. In other words, he
was courting a sprightly and good-looking quadroon girl, by name
Euphemia Jackson ("Femy" for short). This buxom lass was a house
servant on a plantation situated about five miles from Judge LeMonde's.
What were five miles to a lusty young negro fellow who had a good pair
of legs, a bracing atmosphere and bright moonlight in which to exercise
them, an