The Night Riders

  CHAPTER XIV.

  On the Squire's return to town, zealously urged by his mission to warnthe officers of the law of the intended attack on the New Pike gate, hefelt that supreme elation of spirits belonging to a man who alreadyscents splendid victory in the near future.

  Indeed, it promised to be a double one, for not only would he be enabledto strike an effective blow at the raiders, whose warfare on thetoll-gates threatened him with a considerable financial loss, but hewould also have it in his power to crush one whose ever-unwelcomepresence in the neighborhood seemed likely to deprive the Squire ofwinning a wife.

  The wily old man reasoned with himself that he would much prefer to havehis nephew alive and in the penitentiary than simply dead. Incarcerationwould prove a far more lasting and complete revenge than death. In deaththere would only come a quick oblivion to the Squire's victory, on thenephew's part, while in a long imprisonment, which to the victim wouldbe a living death, there would yet remain a daily and hourlycomprehension of unhappy facts, besetting the helpless prisoner like apack of hungry wolves attacking their prey--an ever-present hideousknowledge of his own powerless condition, and his uncle's completemastery of the situation.

  It was this wish, this growing hope to place his nephew in just such aliving tomb, that fanned the hatred of the Squire into a glowing heat,and made him all the more determined that Milt should soon feel theblighting power of his wrath, even through walls of massive stone, andbehind barred doors.

  All the way to town the old man fed his sluggish imagination bypicturing his kinsman and rival thus imprisoned, slowly eating away hisheart in rage and solitude, understanding full well that his sweethearthad become the wife of the man he most hated in all the world. Ah! whatcould be a greater punishment than this? Death would prove sweetcompared to it.

  The Squire chuckled to himself in a sort of fiendish delight at themental picture of anguish he had conjured up.

  In their last bitter quarrel, when the young man had been driven fromthe Squire's home, the nephew had boldly laughed in his uncle's face,taunting him with his age and decrepitude, and declaring that he wouldyet win the girl in spite of all that the old man might do.

  Youth and manly beauty are a powerful offset to wealth and age in theeyes of a young woman. The Squire understood this fully, and chafedunder the knowledge, but he resolutely determined to see what craft andcunning could accomplish in the unequal struggle. He made up his mind tomarry the pretty toll-taker, though there were a dozen importunatesuitors in the way. He would ruthlessly trample them all underfoot, orsweep them aside, as he meant to do his nephew, showing neither pity normercy.

  Ofttimes perseverance is even more effective than love, and the Squirewas not of the kind to be easily thwarted when he had once made up hismind to attain a desired result. Stubbornness and determination were hisstrongest characteristics. These two traits, cleverly united, havecarried many a man to success.

  Deep down in his wicked old heart he had carefully considered the planof having his nephew put quietly out of the way--the Squire knew a manthat money could easily buy for this purpose--but the Squire disliked topart with money, and besides he did not care to place himself in aposition to be bled by a hireling.

  For obvious reasons, therefore, it would serve his purpose much betterif Milt got himself hopelessly entangled in the meshes of the law by hisown acts, rather than the Squire should be accused of helping to bringabout his nephew's ruin. There would be much less difficulty in winningthe girl, the old man thought, ignorant of what she already knew.

  As matters now stood, everything was working beautifully to hisinterest, and with the exercise of a little diplomacy, such as he wellknew how to employ when occasion demanded, his plans would soon behappily accomplished, and his nephew's downfall speedily brought about.

  When Squire Bixler got home again, after an interview with the sheriff,he replenished the fire, closed the shutters, and discarding his heavyboots for his carpet slippers, he gathered the papers about him, and satdown to read. Although his usual bedtime had passed, he only yawnedoccasionally, and consulted his heavy time-piece, or glanced at the tallclock in the corner.

  Along toward the midhour of the night he suddenly aroused himself fromthe stupor of sleep that was beginning to lay hold of him, and,straightening himself in his arm-chair, listened attentively.

  A sound which seemed at first elusive grew clearer to his alert ear,arousing his drowsy faculties to fuller consciousness. It was an easymatter to interpret that sound aright--indeed, his ear had done soquickly. It was a welcome sound for which he had been impatientlylistening all these long, weary hours, and it signified the raiders wereabroad.

  The old man sat motionless, listening intently. Clear and distinct, inmeasures musical as steel hammers on an anvil, came the rapid hoofbeatof horses along the pike, now louder where the open fields spread outon either side of the road, now dull and muffled when a hillockintervened.

  As the sound grew nearer the Squire hastily arose, and blowing out hiscandle went to the window and opened it. The body of horsemen were eventhen passing his avenue gate.

  Now the raiders were climbing the little hill that arose between hisplace and the toll-house, each fall of the iron shoes seemed a sharp,clear note, played in staccato time, on the hard, white surface of thepike, then the notes grew less distinct, softened and shaded as by asoft pedal, when the raiders descended the farther side of the hill.They must soon be at the very gate.

  The Squire listened. There came a pause in the hoof music, then asolitary horseman took up the refrain. The listener recalled to mind therequest that his recent nocturnal visitor had made concerning thisadvance guard--that harm should not come to him--and a grim smile playedover the old man's face as he silently hoped that this one, too, mightfall. The Squire had urged upon the sheriff that no man shouldescape--not one.

  Suddenly a shot rang out--then another--two, three--a half-dozen.Quickly a volley poured forth, startling the night with clamorousechoes.

  The fight was on in fierce earnestness between the raiders and defendersof the gate.

  A rider.]