heart.

Phil stood at another, smiling with admiration for their daring:

"By George, it stirs the blood to see it! You can't crush men of that
breed!"

The watchers were not long in doubt as to what the raiders meant.

They deployed quickly around the armoury. A whistle rang its shrill cry,
and a volley of two hundred and fifty carbines and revolvers smashed every
glass in the building. The sentinel had already given the alarm, and the
drum was calling the startled negroes to their arms. They returned the
volley twice, and for ten minutes were answered with the steady crack of
two hundred and fifty guns. A white flag appeared at the door, and the
firing ceased. The negroes laid down their arms and surrendered. All save
three were allowed to go to their homes for the night and carry their
wounded with them.

The three confederates in the crime of their captain were bound and led
away. In a few minutes the crash of a volley told their end.

The little white figure rapped at Phil's door and placed a trembling hand
on his arm:

"Phil," she said softly, "please go to the hotel and stay until you know
all that has happened--until you know the full list of those killed and
wounded. I'll wait. You understand?"

As he stooped and kissed her, he felt a hot tear roll down her cheek.

"Yes, little Sis, I understand," he answered.

CHAPTER V

THE REIGN OF THE KLAN

In quick succession every county followed the example of Ulster, and the
arms furnished the negroes by the State and National governments were in
the hands of the Klan. The League began to collapse in a panic of terror.

A gale of chivalrous passion and high action, contagious and intoxicating,
swept the white race. The moral, mental, and physical earthquake which
followed the first assault on one of their daughters revealed the unity of
the racial life of the people. Within the span of a week they had lived a
century.

The spirit of the South "like lightning had at last leaped forth, half
startled at itself, its feet upon the ashes and the rags," its hands
tight-gripped on the throat of tyrant, thug, and thief.

It was the resistless movement of a race, not of any man or leader of men.
The secret weapon with which they struck was the most terrible and
efficient in human history--these pale hosts of white-and-scarlet
horsemen! They struck shrouded in a mantle of darkness and terror. They
struck where the power of resistance was weakest and the