On they flew, black demons of darkness, destructive vultures of freedom, cutting the wind as if they had been a two-edged sword; slashing the mist with their foaming steeds, dark steeds, as dark as the starless night; enshrouded in caps as dark as the cloud-covered moon, speaking never a word, but groaning destruction deep down in their revengeful souls.
Jack Wade was awakened from a peaceful slumber by the thundrous tramp of the horses' heavy feet as they galloped swiftly by. He rose stupidly and went out, but as he looked, saw nothing, yet it seemed to him that the very atmosphere of the valley was alive with fantastic dancers. The weird spectacle grew before his sleep-ladened eyes, until the devils of hell seemed encrouched about him. Evidently they were bent on tearing his heart asunder, for there they were preparing to spring upon him.
"Begone, ye devils!"
The beat of the horses' feet falling upon the softer ground grew fainter and fainter, until the sound could be heard no more. Wade sat in his doorway pondering and wondering over the strangeness of the people among whom he had taken up his abode. He knew that the noise which woke him had been made by the tramping of many horses, but knew not whither they were bound, nor what their errand. He sat for a long time looking down through the lowlands, dreaming, pondering. Ever the great dark eyes of the valley girl danced in the moonlight space before him. Her soft stare, tender hands, and innocent expression haunted him. Out in the deep distance a dog was baying. The horsemen had no doubt awakened him as they had awakened Wade, and he was entering his protest in loud and continuous bays. Behind him a rooster was crowing the midnight hour, his own wall clock tolling the same hour. Overhead the moon was shining brightly, sending her silvery rays to greet all the earth.
Suddenly there arose over the valley the shout of many voices, mingled with the baying of as many dogs, then the midnight air was rent in twain by the vibrations caused from the firing of pistols and rifles.
"What now?" thought the ponderer. "Ye gods! this is a fearful condition."
Some two miles away a faint red light grew up out of the mist. Wade strained his eyes in an effort to discern more clearly the cause. The light grew until the watcher could clearly discern the flickering blaze as it leaped high into the heavens, apparently bent on devouring the very stars that gave light to the darkened earth. Still the blaze grew, sending forth sparks like great balloons of fire. Over a little way beyond another light sprang up to greet the straining eyes of the watcher, and also grew in brightness, until the whole landscape for miles over the valley was one bright sea of flame. The sight was too much for Wade; he could not sit longer and watch it from such a great distance. Hastily saddling his horse he rode toward the conflagration, having two specific objects in view. One, and the lesser, to witness the great conflagration; the other, to learn something of interest to himself.
The road over which he was traveling was so entirely new to him that he found it quite difficult to make any speed, therefore he resigned himself to a jog-trot, picking his way over ravines and around low growing shrubs, sometimes emerging out into the open and traveling beneath the large forest trees. He often wondered how it was possible for the horsemen who had gone on ahead of him to have kept up such a terrible speed on such a road. They knew the earth beneath their horses' feet, every inch of it, and feared not, he concluded. Their horses were fully acquainted with the rough way, and hesitated not. How friendly the light of the waning moon appeared to that lonely traveler in that silent dark region! How beautifully shone the little friendly stars, those small heavenly bodies, from their homes in the clear blue sky! One does not realize the full value of the moonlight until one has real necessity for it, then its great value is known—indeed no value can be placed upon it then.
No light now came from the conflagration he was desiring to witness, but there would be, as soon as he emerged once more into the open. He went on cautiously, until he came out into the moonlight again. Yonder to the right of him was the fire, still burning brightly, sending up a flickering blaze. He hurried his pace as much as possible over the road, and now saw a lone horseman speeding like the wind toward him. In another moment he passed. His head was uncovered, but that was not unnatural. It was all right; he knew him not. This lone horseman turned in his saddle and glanced at Wade when he had got past him, never a moment allowing his steed to slacken his pace. That was also all right. They did not know each other. Wade hurried on, finally reaching the burning building, where he found not a living thing, human nor beast, nothing saving the dying embers of a burning home. The light from the burning barn was brighter, and as he glanced that way he discovered a poor horse lying by the gate in the agonies of death.
"Poor fellow," he thought, as he watched him breathe his last, "your useful days are over; nothing can save you now."