house they had buried a Confederate soldier in the field. I dug his body
up, carted it to the woods, and threw it into a ditch----"

The hand of the white-haired Southerner suddenly gripped old Stoneman's
throat--and then relaxed. His head sank on his breast, and he cried in
anguish:

"God be merciful to me a sinner! Would I, too, seek revenge!"

Stoneman looked at the doctor, dazed by his sudden onslaught and
collapse.

"Yes, he was somebody's boy down here," he went on, "who was loved perhaps
even as I love--I don't blame you. See, in the inside pocket next to my
heart I carry the pictures of Phil and Elsie taken from babyhood up, all
set in a little book. They don't know this--nor does the world dream I've
been so soft-hearted----"

He drew a miniature album from his pocket and fumbled it aimlessly:

"You know Phil was my first-born----"

His voice broke, and he looked at the doctor helplessly.

The Southerner slipped his arm around the old man's shoulders and began a
tender and reverent prayer.

The sudden thunder of a squad of cavalry with clanking sabres swept by the
hotel toward the jail.

Stoneman scrambled to his feet, staggered, and caught a chair.

"It's no use," he groaned, "--they've come with his body--I'm slipping
down--the lights are going out--I haven't a friend! It's dark and
cold--I'm alone, and lost--God--has--hidden--His--face--from--me!"

Voices were heard without, and the tramp of heavy feet on the steps.

Stoneman clutched the doctor's arm in agony:

"Stop them!--Stop them! Don't let them bring him in here!"

He sank limp into the chair and stared at the door as it swung open and
Phil walked in, with Ben and Elsie by his side, in full clansman
disguise.

The old man leaped to his feet and gasped:

"The Klan!--The Klan! No? Yes! It's true--glory to God, they've saved my
boy--Phil--Phil!"

"How did you rescue him?" Doctor Cameron asked Ben.

"Had a squadron lying in wait on every road that led from town. The
Captain thought a thousand men were on him, and surrendered without a
shot."

* * * * *

At twelve o'clock Ben stood at the gate with Elsie.

"Your fate hangs in the balance of this election to-night," she said.
"I'll share it with you, success or failure, life or death."

"Success, not failure," he answered firmly. "The Grand Dragons of six
States have already wired victory. Look at our lights on the mountains!
They are a