When a negro ignored a note carrying the Ku-Klux skull and cross bones and voted "republican" instead of "conservative," his body, ornamented with skull and bones in blood, might be found the next morning in the middle of the road—lifeless.
The congressional minutes report a bold, public display of the Klan's official orders. They might appear in a whisk of the wind on the post office window. They might be pinned on a tree or pole or building. On one occasion, when a member of the Klan was on trial in a county court, a band of white masquers, riding through the courtyard on horse, dropped a note addressed to the court, grand jury and sheriff.
"Go slow," it commanded. At the bottom was a drawing of a coffin and on each side a rope. The signature was "K.K.K."
Ku-Klux rule in the south half a century ago was an attempt to govern by masque.
Secret covenants arrived at by a sheeted brotherhood, veiled signs, orders written in blood and posted at midnight on the victim's door—by such means did the Klan substitute the masque for the ballot.
Congressional investigating committees who stripped the night-riding organization of secrecy during the administration of President Grant, were entertained during a session of congress by tales of lares and lemures howling at night in fields or on crossroads, bad luck omens for the negroes.
UNDER MARTIAL LAW
In organization the Klan was military, and its town, county and state rule, as recorded in the Congressional Globe, operated as under martial law.
As the revolt of the white southerner to colored and northern domination reared itself into giant-size, towns under Klan domination came to take their rule and law from the K.K.K. note, flapping in the wind on a tree or fencepost, with the coffin on its signature, urging that it be obeyed.