r slaves.

Behind the tragedy of Reconstruction stood the remarkable man whose iron
will alone had driven these terrible measures through the chaos of
passion, corruption, and bewilderment which followed the first
assassination of an American President. As he leaned on his window in this
village of the South and watched in speechless rage the struggle at that
negro armoury, he felt for the first time the foundations sinking beneath
his feet. As he saw the black cowards surrender in terror, noted the
indifference and cool defiance with which those white horsemen rode and
shot, he knew that he had collided with the ultimate force which his whole
scheme had overlooked.

He turned on his big club foot from the window, clinched his fist and
muttered:

"But I'll hang that man for this deed if it's the last act of my life!"

The morning brought dismay to the negro, the carpet-bagger, and the
scallawag of Ulster. A peculiar freak of weather in the early morning
added to their terror. The sun rose clear and bright except for a slight
fog that floated from the river valley, increasing the roar of the falls.
About nine o'clock a huge black shadow suddenly rushed over Piedmont from
the west, and in a moment the town was shrouded in twilight. The cries of
birds were hushed and chickens went to roost as in a total eclipse of the
sun. Knots of people gathered on the streets and gazed uneasily at the
threatening skies. Hundreds of negroes began to sing and shout and pray,
while sensible people feared a cyclone or cloud-burst. A furious downpour
of rain was swiftly followed by sunshine, and the negroes rose from their
knees, shouting with joy to find the end of the world had after all been
postponed.

But that the end of their brief reign in a white man's land had come, but
few of them doubted. The events of the night were sufficiently eloquent.
The movement of the clouds in sympathy was unnecessary.

Old Stoneman sent for Lynch, and found he had fled to Columbia. He sent
for the only lawyer in town whom the Lieutenant-Governor had told him
could be trusted.

The lawyer was polite, but his refusal to undertake the prosecution of any
alleged member of the Klan was emphatic.

"I'm a sinful man, sir," he said with a smile. "Besides, I prefer to live,
on general principles."

"I'll pay you well," urged the old man, "and if you secure the conviction
of Ben Cameron, the man we believe to be the head of this Klan, I'll give
you ten