"Not so great as is the danger of my sister and mother and my sweetheart--it is a man's place to face danger," he gravely answered.

"This violence can only lead to your ruin and shame----"

"I am fighting the battle of a race on whose fate hangs the future of the South and the Nation. My ruin and shame will be of small account if they are saved," was the even answer.

"Come, my dear," she pleaded tenderly, "you know that I have weighed the treasures of music and art and given them all for one clasp of your hand, one throb of your heart against mine. I should call you cruel did I not know you are infinitely tender. This is the only thing I have ever asked you to do for me----"

"Desert my people! You must not ask of me this infamy, if you love me," he cried.

"But, listen; this is wrong--this wild vengeance is a crime you are doing, however great the provocation. We cannot continue to love one another if you do this. Listen: I love you better than father, mother, life, or career--all my dreams I've lost in you. I've lived through eternity to-day with my father----"

"You know me guiltless of the vulgar threat against him----"

"Yes, and yet you are the leader of desperate men who might have done it.

As I fought this battle to-day, I've lost you, lost myself, and sunk down to the depths of despair, and at the end rang the one weak cry of a woman's heart for her lover! Your frown can darken the brightest sky. For your sake I can give up all save the sense of right. I'll walk by your side in life--lead you gently and tenderly along the way of my dreams if I can, but if you go your way, it shall be mine; and I shall still be glad because you are there! See how humble I am--only you must not commit crime!"

"Come, sweetheart, you must not use that word," he protested, with a touch of wounded pride.

"You are a conspirator----"

"I am a revolutionist."

"You are committing murder!"

"I am waging war."

Elsie leaped to her feet in a sudden rush of anger and extended her hand:

"Good-bye. I shall not see you again. I do not know you. You are still a stranger to me."

He held her hand firmly.

"We must not part in anger," he said slowly. "I have grave work to do before the day dawns. We may not see each other again."

She led her horse to the seat quickly and without waiting for his a.s.sistance sprang into the saddle.

"Do you not fear my betrayal of your secret?" she asked.

He rode to her side, bent close, and whispered:

"It's as safe as if locked in the heart of G.o.d."

A little sob caught her voice, yet she said slowly in firm tones:

"If another crime is committed in this county by your Klan, we will never see each other again."

He escorted her to the edge of the town without a word, pressed her hand in silence, wheeled his horse, and disappeared on the road to the North Carolina line.

CHAPTER IV

THE BANNER OF THE DRAGON

Ben Cameron rode rapidly to the rendezvous of the pickets who were to meet the coming squadrons.

He returned home and ate a hearty meal. As he emerged from the dining-room, Phil seized him by the arm and led him under the big oak on the lawn:

"Cameron, old boy, I'm in a lot of trouble. I've had a quarrel with my father, and your sister has broken me all up by returning my ring. I want a little excitement to ease my nerves. From Elsie's incoherent talk I judge you are in danger. If there's going to be a fight, let me in."

Ben took his hand:

"You're the kind of a man I'd like to have for a brother, and I'll help you in love--but as for war--it's not your fight. We don't need help."

At ten o'clock Ben met the local Den at their rendezvous under the cliff, to prepare for the events of the night.

The forty members present were drawn up before him in double rank of twenty each.

"Brethren," he said to them solemnly, "I have called you to-night to take a step from which there can be no retreat. We are going to make a daring experiment of the utmost importance. If there is a faint heart among you, now is the time to retire----"

"We are with you!" cried the men.

"There are laws of our race, old before this Republic was born in the souls of white freemen. The fiat of fools has repealed on paper these laws. Your fathers who created this Nation were first Conspirators, then Revolutionists, now Patriots and Saints. I need to-night ten volunteers to lead the coming clansmen over this county and disarm every negro in it.

The men from North Carolina cannot be recognized. Each of you must run this risk. Your absence from home to-night will be doubly dangerous for what will be done here at this negro armoury under my command. I ask of these ten men to ride their horses until dawn, even unto death, to ride for their G.o.d, their native land, and the womanhood of the South!

"To each man who accepts this dangerous mission I offer for your bed the earth, for your canopy the sky, for your bread stones; and when the flash of bayonets shall fling into your face from the Square the challenge of martial law, the protection I promise you--is exile, imprisonment, and death! Let the ten men who accept these terms step forward four paces."

With a single impulse the whole double line of forty white-and-scarlet figures moved quickly forward four steps!

The leader shook hands with each man, his voice throbbing with emotion as he said:

"Stand together like this, men, and armies will march and countermarch over the South in vain! We will save the life of our people."

The ten guides selected by the Grand Dragon rode forward, and each led a division of one hundred men through the ten townships of the county and successfully disarmed every negro before day without the loss of a life.

The remaining squadron of two hundred and fifty men from Hambright, accompanied by the Grand t.i.tan in command of the Province of Western Hill Counties, were led by Ben Cameron into Piedmont as the waning moon rose between twelve and one o'clock.

They marched past Stoneman's place on the way to the negro armoury, which stood on the opposite side of the street a block below.

The wild music of the beat of a thousand hoofs on the cobblestones of the street waked every sleeper. The old Commoner hobbled to his window and watched them pa.s.s, his big hands fumbling nervously, and his soul stirred to its depths.

The ghostlike shadowy columns moved slowly with the deliberate consciousness of power. The scarlet circles on their b.r.e.a.s.t.s could be easily seen when one turned toward the house, as could the big red letters K. K. K. on each horse's flank.

In the centre of the line waved from a gold-tipped spear the battle-flag of the Klan. As they pa.s.sed the bright lights burning at his gate, old Stoneman could see this standard plainly. The huge black dragon with flaming eyes and tongue seemed a living thing crawling over a scarlet-tipped yellow cloud.

At the window above stood a little figure watching that banner of the Dragon pa.s.s with aching heart.