JOHN GRAHAM walked briskly to his office the next morning at a quarter to ten, and found Dan Wiley standing at the door.

The lank mountaineer merely nodded, followed the young lawyer into the office, and stood in silence watching him as he opened a case of duelling pistols which had been handed down through four generations of his family.

“Don’t do it,” said Dan abruptly.

“I’ve got to.”

“Ain’t no sense in it.”

“It’s the only way, Dan, and I’m going to ask you to be my second.”

Dan placed his big rough hand on the younger man’s shoulders.

“Lemme be fust, not second.”

“It’s not my way!”

“That’s why I’m axin ye. You’re the biggest man in the state! I seed it last night as ye stood there makin’ that speech to the boys. You’ll be the Governor if ye don’t do some fool thing like this. If ye fight ’im, an’ he kills ye, your’e a goner. If you kill him, you’re ruined—what’s the use?”

“It can’t be helped,” was the quiet answer.

“Are ye goin’ ter kill ’im?”

“Yes. The Klan was the only way to save our civilisation. I’ve sowed the wind and now I begin to see that somebody must reap the whirlwind. I realised it all in a flash last night when that scoundrel called the men to reorganise.”

“They won’t follow him.”

“The fools will, and there are thousands outside clamouring to get in. I’ve kept the young and reckless out as far as possible. Steve Hoyle knows that he can beat me for Congress with this new wildcat Klan at his back. He hasn’t sense enough to see that the spell of authority once broken, he wields a power no human hand can control. It will be faction against faction, neighbour against neighbour, man against man—the end martial law, prison bars and the shadow of the gallows. I can save the lives of thousands of men, and my state from crime and disgrace by killing this fool as I’d kill a mad dog, and I’m going to do it!”

“Hit’ll ruin ye, boy!”

“I know it.”

“Look here, John Graham, do me a special favour. Leave Steve to me. My wife’s dead and I aint got a chick or a child—you’ve defended me without a cent and you’re the best friend I’ve got in the world. It’s my turn now. Nobody would miss me.”

“I’d miss you, Dan!” said John slowly.

The two men silently clasped hands and looked into each other’s faces.

“You’re a fool to do this, boy”—the mountaineer’s voice broke.

“Of course, Dan, many of our old-fashioned ways are foolish but at least they hold the honour of man, and the virtue of woman dearer than human life!”

A boy suddenly opened the door without knocking and handed John a note.

He read it aloud with a scowl:

My friends have decided that I shall not play into your hands by an absurd appeal to the Code of the Dark Ages. I’ll fight you in my own way at a time and place of my own choosing and with weapons that will be effective.

Steve Hoyle.

“Now, by gum, you’ll have to leave ’im to me,” laughed the mountaineer.

John tore the note into bits and turned to the boy:

“No answer, you can go.”

“He’ll pick you off some night from behind a tree,” warned Dan.

“Sneak and coward!” muttered John.

“Ye won’t let me help ye?”

“No, go home and disband your men.”

“May they keep the rig?”

“If you won’t go on a raid.”

“I’ll not, unless you need me, John Graham,” cried the mountaineer grasping again his young leader’s hand.

“All right. I can trust you. Keep their costumes in your house under lock and key until I call for them.”

As Dan turned slowly through the door he drawled over his shoulder: “You’ll ’em purty quick!”