|ONE clear, warm evening Hoag rode along the side of the mountain. The
sun had been down for an hour, and the valley lay beneath the soft folds
of a twilight which, ever creeping from west to east, seemed gradually
to thicken under the increasing rays of the constantly appearing stars.
He saw the village lights, and from their locations knew where the main
buildings stood--the hotel, the post-office, and the wagon-yard, marked
by the red glow of the camp-fires. He could see, also, his own home at
the end of the road up which he had ascended.
The incline was growing steeper and his horse was stepping cautiously,
and shying here and there at real or fancied objects in the underbrush
on each side of the densely shaded road. Presently a point was
reached where the horse could not well advance further, and the rider
dismounted, hitched his rein to a bush, and, on foot, took a narrow path
which led down a steep incline into a canon of considerable depth and
breadth. Finally gaining a sort of level at the bottom, he trudged
on into a labyrinthian maze of brambles, lichen-coated boulders, and
thorn-bushes, headed for a specter-like cliff which, now and then,
loomed in the starlight.
Presently a firm cry of “Halt there!” greeted him, and a tall, lank
form, topped by a mask of white cloth with jagged eye and mouth
openings, stood in front of him.
“Halt yoreself, Joe Purvynes!” Hoag answered, facetiously.
“Halt, I say! That won't do,” and the figure raised a long-barreled gun
and threateningly presented it. “What's the password?”
“Hold on, hold on!” Hoag laughed uneasily. “It's me, Joe!”
“Me! I don't know no me's in this business. You give me the proper
password or I'll plug you full o'--”
“A white man's country,” Hoag hurriedly complied. “Thar, I reckon that
will suit you.”
“Good Lord, Cap! I swear I didn't know you,” the sentinel exclaimed
apologetically. “By gum, I come 'in an inch o' givin' the signal to
the boys up thar to lie low. It ain't for me to dictate to you, but you
ought to obey regulations yourself if you expect the rest to keep order.
Cap, this ain't no jokin' business; we've got to be careful.”
“I thought you'd know my voice.” Hoag fended the matter of! with an
impatient gesture and an audible sniff. “The klan arrived yet?”
“Yes, up thar in the open; some of 'em got here at sundown. Never seed
'em so eager before. They've got some game up their sleeves. I may as
well tell you. You are goin' to have trouble with 'em, Cap.”
“Trouble? What do you mean?”
“I don't know as I've got any ground to say it”--the sentinel leaned on
his gun and lifted the lower part of his mask, that he might speak more
freely--“but it's the young members, Cap. They ain't satisfied with
bein' inactive so long. They say us older, men are takin' the dry-rot,
an' won't git out at night because we want to lie in bed an' snooze.”
Hoag swore under his breath. He reflected a moment in silence; then he
asked, “Who's the ringleader?”
“Hard to say, Cap; they are all a-talkin'. Thar's a dozen or more, but
Nape Welborne is the worst. I may as well tell you the truth. They are
ag'in' you; they are bent on creatin' dissatisfaction--bustin' up the
old order an' startin' out ag'in, as they say, with new blood. They've
got some fresh devilment to propose to-night, an' if you don't fall in
line double-quick they are a-goin' to move to elect a new captain.”
“I see, I see.” Hoag felt his blood rush in an angry torrent to his
head. “They are mad because I didn't favor breakin' in the jail last
meetin' to take out Mart Dill. He's Nape's uncle, you know. I was plumb
right about that, Purvynes. Mart paid his fine an' is free now, anyway.”
“I understand, Cap, but it made a lot of 'em mad. Of course I don't
know, but they say you had some grudge ag'in' Mart, an' that's why you
refused to act. They've got liquor in 'em to-night up to the neck, an'
you'll have to handle 'em easy or we'll bust into flinders.”
“I'll break their necks, damn them!” Hoag turned to go on. “They can't
run over me roughshod. I've been at the head o' this band too long for
that.”
“Well, I've give you my opinion, Cap,” Purvynes said, more coldly.
“I hope you'll try to keep down a split. Some'n seems goin' crooked,
anyway. Sid Trawley's talkin' a lot--gone daffy an' turned into a
regular preacher. I know a half-dozen old uns he's kept home to-night,
an' Nape Welborne is goin' to make trouble. He hates the ground you walk
on. Thar's no ifs and ands about that.”
Farther along, at the base of the almost perpendicular cliff, Hoag
found fifty or sixty men waiting for him. Some lay smoking on the grass,
others hung about in various restless attitudes, and a group of ten or
twelve of the younger men sat eating tinned oysters and sardines with
crackers, and drinking whisky from huge flasks which stood on the ground
in their midst.
A man on the edge of the assembly recognized the leader, and saluting
respectfully, called out, “Boys, rise; the Captain is here!”
Thereupon a formality took place which to Hoag had always been a subtle
delight. Those standing removed their hats, and all who were seated
struggled to their feet and stood silent and uncovered.
“How are you, boys?” That constituted Hoag's usual greeting, and then
every one sat down, and for a moment silence ensued. There was a fallen
log on the border of the assemblage, and upon this the leader sat as
if upon a judicial bench. He put his hat on the grass at his feet
and folded his hands between his knees. There was a low tinkle of a
knife-blade gouging out potted ham from a jagged tin, and Hoag drew
himself erect and frowned.
“Let up on that eatin' thar!” he said, testily. “One thing at a time.
I've had a hard ride to git up here, an' I'll be treated with proper
respect or--”
“You be damned!” a low voice muttered, and a soft titter of startled
approval rose in the group of younger men and slowly died in the
consternation which' Hoag's fierce attitude seemed to set afloat upon
the air.
“Who said that?” he sharply demanded, and he half rose to his feet and
leaned forward in a threatening attitude.
There was no response. Hoag, standing fully erect now, repeated his
question, but the surly demand elicited only a repetition of the
tittering and a low, defiant groan.
Hoag slowly and reluctantly resumed his seat. “I'm goin' to have order
an' obedience,” he growled. “That's what I'm here for, an' anybody that
wants trouble can git it. This is _me_ a-talkin'.”
The silence was unbroken now and, somewhat mollified, Hoag proceeded to
the business of the night. “Mr. Secretary,” he said, “call the roll, an'
make careful note of absentees an' impose fines.”
A man holding a bit of lighted candle and a sheet of paper stood up and
went through this formality.
“How many missin'?” Hoag inquired, when the roll-call was over and the
candle extinguished.
“Seven, not countin' Sid Trawley,” was the response.
“Cold feet--seven more beyond the age-limit!” a wag in the younger group
was heard to say in a maudlin and yet defiant tone.
“Order thar!” Hoag commanded in a stentorian voice.
“Gone to nigger prayer-meetin',” another boldly muttered, and Hoag
stamped his foot and called for order again. “What have we got before
the body?” he inquired, in agreement with his best idea of parliamentary
form. “Do I hear any proposals?”
There was a short pause, then a young man in the noisy group rose.
It was Nape Welborne. His mouth was full of the dry crackers he was
munching, and little powdery puffs shot from his lips when he began to
speak.
“Worshipful Knight, an' gentlemen of the Klan,” he began, with
an obvious sneer. “I've been asked to say a few words to-night.
Considerable dissatisfaction has got up in our body. Things has been
proposed that in common decency ought to have gone through, an' they've
been put under the table an' nothin' done. The general opinion is that
this has come to be a one-man gang.”
“Everything's been put to a vote,” Hoag retorted, with startled and yet
blunt dignity.
Grunts and sniffs of contempt ran through the group of younger men, and
when the Captain had secured, order Welborne resumed. It was plain that
he was making no effort to disguise his rancor.
“Yes, they was snowed under after our _worshipful leader_ showed that
he wasn't in for action, an' the men wouldn't move without an authorized
head.”
“That's no way to put it,” Hoag retorted. “As your leader I had to say
what I thought was wisest an' best. I always have done it, an' heard
nothin' ag'in' it till now.”
“Because you used to have a _little_ more red blood in your veins than
you got now, an' that's sayin' powerful little.” The speaker's eyes
bore down upon the upturned faces, and was greeted by a loud clapping of
hands and boisterous exclamations of agreement.
Hoag was white with helpless fury. “You mean to say--damn you--” he
began, only to lapse into cautious silence, for there was something in
the staring tenseness of the speaker and his crouching supporters which
was ominous of a storm that was ready to break.
“Be careful, Cap!” It was the voice of Purvynes close behind him, and
the sentinel leaned downward on his gun to finish: “They are drunk
an' have got it in for you. They are bent on devilin' you tonight an'
forcin' an issue. Look sharp!”
Welborne had drawn himself up and was silent. Hoag nodded despairingly
at the man behind him and said: “Go on with your proposition, Brother
Welborne. What is it you want?”
Welborne laughed out impulsively. “I see we are gettin' to be kin folks.
Well, to come down to hard-pan an' brass tacks, Worshipful Knight, King
o' the Mossbacks, I am empowered to say that--”
“That he's got cold feet!” a merry voice broke in with an irrepressible
giggle.
At this Hoag sprang up, but hearing Purvynes' startled warning behind
him, and realizing what open resentment on his part would mean, he stood
unsteadily for an instant and then sank down.
“Go on!” he said, desperately. “We'll hear you out.”
“I wasn't goin' to use them nasty words _myself_,” the speaker smiled
down into the beardless face from which they had issued, “for it
wouldn't be becomin' on an occasion like this. Cold feet don't seem
to fill the bill exactly, nohow. A man may have a cold pair when his
judgment is ag'in' some move or other. The thing some of us new members
find ourselves up against in our leader is rank _cowardice_, an' plenty
of it.”
“Cowardice!” Hoag allowed his rigid lips to echo.
“That's the word,” the speaker stared fixedly, as low murmurs of
approval swept through the immediate group around him and permeated the
borders of the crowd in general.
“Explain yourself.” Hoag was conscious of fighting for some expedient of
rescue under the shadow of toppling defeat.
“Oh, well, our boys have made up their minds that you are plumb without
any sort o' real grit,” Welborne said, firmly. “You seem to be one solid
bluff from beginnin' to end. We could cite half a dozen cases, not to
mention the two times that Jeff Warren made you eat dirt an' lick the
soles of his boots.”
“It's a lie!” Hoag floundered, recklessly. “A low, dirty lie!”
Welborne stepped out from the group and advanced half-way to the
captain. “That's what I've been hopin' you'd git to,” he said, calmly.
“I suppose you mean _me_. Now, rise from that log, Hoag, an' prove
whether you got any backbone or not. You are not only a liar, but a
low-lived coward in the bargain!”
Dead silence fell. Hoag was well aware that his power was gone--his
throne had crumbled under his feet, for he saw the utter futility
of fighting the young giant before him, and he knew that many of his
supporters would regard it as inevitable.
“I didn't say _you_ was a liar. I said--”
“But I say you are worse than that,” Welborne snarled, “and you've got
to set thar before us all an' chaw my statement an' gulp it down.”
“You fellows have laid a trap for me,” Hoag muttered, desperately. He
glanced around at the older men. How strange it was that no word of
rebuke came from even the wisest of them! Surely they didn't believe the
charge of this wild young drunkard after all those years in which he had
led them, and had their homage and respect.
“I see you don't mean to defend yourself,” Welborne went on, glancing
around at the gathering, “an' that's proof enough of what I say. You've
held your post not because you was a brave man, Jim Hoag, but because
you had money that some men are low enough to bow before; but us young
men in these mountains will have a leader with sand in his craw, or none
at all.” The speaker paused, and his fellows stood up around him. There
was a warm shaking of hands, a rising clamor of approval, and this
spread even to the older men, who were excitedly talking in low tones.
“Come on, boys, let's go home!” Welborne proposed. “We'll have that
meetin' to-morrow night, an' we'll _do_ things. Next time a good man
gits in jail no low-lived skunk will keep him thar!”
“Good, good!” several voices exclaimed. The entire assemblage was on its
feet. Hoag rose as if to demand order, but the purpose was drowned in
the flood of dismay within him. He saw Welborne and his friends moving
away. They were followed by others more or less slowly, who threw
awkward backward glances at him. Presently only Purvynes and he
remained.
The sentinel leaned on the barrel of his gun and chewed his tobacco
slowly.
“I seed this thing a-comin' a long time back.” He spat deliberately,
aiming at a stone at his feet. “They've talked too much behind your back
to be true to your face. I can say it now, I reckon, for I reckon you
want to understand the thing. Do you, or do you not?”
“Well, I don't know what to make of it,” Hoag said, with the lips of a
corpse, the eyes of a dying man. “I simply don't!”
“Well, it's this a way,” Purvynes explained, with as much tact as he
could command. “Welborne didn't tell it all. What really has rankled
for a long time was that--_they_ say, you understand--that you just kept
this thing a-goin' for a sort o' hobby to ride on when you ain't off in
Atlanta havin' a good time. They claim that you just love to set back
an' give orders, an' preside like a judge an' be bowed an' scraped
to. They say that, here of late, you hain't seemed to be alive to
home interests or present issues. They claim the niggers are gittin'
unbearable all around, an' that you are afraid they will rise an' burn
some o' your property. They say you don't care how much the niggers
insult white folks, an' that you'd rather see a decent farmer's wife
scared by a black imp than lose one o' your warehouses or mills. They
are goin' to reorganize to-morrow night. An' listen to me, Jim--”
Hoag heard the man address him for the first time by his Christian
name--“they are goin' to raise hell. An' that's whar you an' me come
in.”
“Whar _we_ come in? You don't think they would dare to--to--” Hoag began
tremulously, and ended in rising dismay.
“Oh, I don't mean they would actually mob you or me or any o' the old
klan, but whatever they do will be laid at our door because we've been
in the thing so long. The truth is, Jim, you trained them fellers to be
what they are; they are jest sparks off of your flint. I reckon if Nape
Welborne knowed how I looked at it he'd say _I_ had cold feet, for I've
been doin' a sight o' thinkin' lately. I've heard Paul Rundel talk on
this line.”
“You say you have! He's a fool.”
“I don't know 'bout that; if he ain't got it down about right, nobody
has. I heard him talkin' to a crowd one day at the flour-mill. He ain't
afraid o' man nor beast. Everybody knows that. Nape Welborne chipped in
once, but Paul settled 'im, an' Nape was ashamed to argue any longer.
Paul says we are in an awful fix. He prophesied then that we'd turn
ag'in' our own race an' we are a-doin' it. You yourself have made
enemies among the very men that used to follow you, an' the Lord only
knows whar it will end.”
Hoag stifled a groan and struggled to his feet. His legs felt stiff
and heavy from inactivity. He stood staring out into the void above the
tree-tops. The rocky fastness immediately around was as still as if the
spot were aloof from time and space--so still, indeed, that a pebble
of the disintegrating cliff being released by the eternal law of change
rattled from summit to base quite audibly. From down the mountain-side
came boisterous singing. It was Welborne and his supporters.
“D'you hear that?” Purvynes asked, as, gun under arm, he got ready to
walk on with his companion.
“Hear what?” Hoag roused himself as from a confused dream.
“Them young devils!” Purvynes chuckled, as if amused. “They need a good
lickin'--them boys do. Can't you hear what they are a-singin'?”
“No, I can't. I wasn't payin' no attention.”
“Why, it's--
“'Jim Hoag's body lies molderin' in the grave.'”
Hoag made no answer. He trudged along the rocky path in advance of
the other. He stumped his toes occasionally, and was puffing from the
exertion. The perspiration stood in visible drops on his furrowed brow.
They had reached Hoag's horse, and he was preparing to mount, when a
fusillade of pistol-shots, the clatter of horses' hoofs, and loud yells
were heard in the distance.
“What's that?” Hoag paused with his hand in the mane of his mount, his
foot in the stirrup.
“Oh, it's just them fellows celebratin' their victory. I'll bet they've
already made Nape captain. But you can see how they are a-goin' to
run things. We'll see the day, Jim, when us older men will be sorry
we didn't let up on this business sooner. You know, I believe the klan
would 'a' died out long ago if you hadn't took so much pride in it.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you, Jim. Over half the members kept in just to curry favor
one way or another with you, an' to drink the liquor you furnished on
meetin'-nights, an' have som'er's to go.”
“I reckon you are mistaken.”
“No, I ain't. This thing's been your pet, Jim, but you're lost your grip
on it--you have sure. An' you oughtn't to be sorry--I swear you oughtn't
to be.”
The valley, which he could now see from the back of his horse, was
Nature's symbol of infinite peace. From its dark depths rose the dismal
hooting of a night-owl, the shrill piping of a tree-frog.