CHAPTER XXXI.
Ten Years After
"Sally, those awful Night Riders are around again."
"No, Milt, you don't really mean it?"
Sally looked up quickly from her sewing across the hearth to where her stalwart husband sat with crossed legs, making of his swinging right foot a make-believe skittish horse for Milton, junior, age three.
"Father, what does Night Riders mean?" asked a young girl of nine or ten standing near, who had her mother's fair complexion and richly tinted hair, but her father's dark and expressive eyes.
"They are men who band together and ride through the country at night for the purpose of forcing people to do certain things that the band demands. The members usually go masked so that they may not be recognized."
"Then they must be wicked men," continued Alice frankly, "if they are so afraid they will be seen. Did you ever see a Night Rider, father?"
"A long time ago," answered Milt soberly, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he glanced across at his wife, "and he was a pretty sorry sight, I must say."