t the Vermissa lodge
and carried out in cold blood upon two helpless and disarmed men. There
also one may read of the shooting of Mrs. Larbey when she was nursing
her husband, who had been beaten almost to death by orders of Boss
McGinty. The killing of the elder Jenkins, shortly followed by that of
his brother, the mutilation of James Murdoch, the blowing up of the
Staphouse family, and the murder of the Stendals all followed hard upon
one another in the same terrible winter.

Darkly the shadow lay upon the Valley of Fear. The spring had come with
running brooks and blossoming trees. There was hope for all Nature
bound so long in an iron grip; but nowhere was there any hope for the
men and women who lived under the yoke of the terror. Never had the
cloud above them been so dark and hopeless as in the early summer of
the year 1875.

Chapter 6

Danger

It was the height of the reign of terror. McMurdo, who had already been
appointed Inner Deacon, with every prospect of some day succeeding
McGinty as Bodymaster, was now so necessary to the councils of his
comrades that nothing was done without his help and advice. The more
popular he became, however, with the Freemen, the blacker were the
scowls which greeted him as he passed along the streets of Vermissa. In
spite of their terror the citizens were taking heart to band themselves
together against their oppressors. Rumours had reached the lodge of
secret gatherings in the Herald office and of distribution of firearms
among the law-abiding people. But McGinty and his men were undisturbed
by such reports. They were numerous, resolute, and well armed. Their
opponents were scattered and powerless. It would all end, as it had
done in the past, in aimless talk and possibly in impotent arrests. So
said McGinty, McMurdo, and all the bolder spirits.

It was a Saturday evening in May. Saturday was always the lodge night,
and McMurdo was leaving his house to attend it when Morris, the weaker
brother of the order, came to see him. His brow was creased with care,
and his kindly face was drawn and haggard.

"Can I speak with you freely, Mr. McMurdo?"

"Sure."

"I can't forget that I spoke my heart to you once, and that you kept it
to yourself, even though the Boss himself came to ask you about it."

"What else could I do if you trusted me? It wasn't that I agreed with
what you said."

"I know that well. But you are the one that I can speak to and be safe.
I've a secret