“I never knowd a Graham ter break his word.” John pressed the mountaineer’s hand.
“Thanks Dan.”
“I’m with you—and I’ll charge the mouth of the pit with my bare hands if you give the order.”
“Good. Meet me at the spring in the woods behind the old cemetery at eleven o’clock to-night with forty picked men.”
“Forty!—better make it an even thousand, man for man with the Yanks.”
“Just forty men, mark you—picked men, not a boy or a fool among them.”
“I understand,” said Dan, turning on his heel toward the door.
“And see to it”—called John—“I want them mounted on the best horses in the county and every man armed to the teeth.”
Dan nodded and disappeared.
By eight o’clock the town was in a ferment of excitement and the streets were crowded with feverish groups discussing a rumour which late in the afternoon had spread like wild-fire. From some mysterious source had come the announcement that a great Ku Klux parade was to take place in Independence at midnight for the purpose of overawing if not attacking the regiment of soldiers, which had just been quartered in the town.