Part 54 (1/2)
Doctor Cameron leaped forward and beat them off:
”Men! Men! You must not kill him in this condition!”
Some of the white figures had fallen prostrate on the ground, sobbing in a frenzy of uncontrollable emotion. Some were leaning against the walls, their faces buried in their arms.
Again old McAllister was on his knees crying over and over again:
”G.o.d have mercy on my people!”
When at length quiet was restored, the negro was revived, and again bound, blindfolded, gagged, and thrown to the ground before the Grand Cyclops.
A sudden inspiration flashed in Doctor Cameron's eyes. Turning to the figure with yellow sash and double cross he said:
”Issue your orders and despatch your courier to-night with the old Scottish rite of the Fiery Cross. It will send a thrill of inspiration to every clansman in the hills.”
”Good--prepare it quickly!” was the answer.
Doctor Cameron opened his medicine case, drew the silver drinking-cover from a flask, and pa.s.sed out of the cave to the dark circle of blood still s.h.i.+ning in the sand by the water's edge. He knelt and filled the cup half full of the crimson grains, and dipped it into the river. From a saddle he took the lightwood torch, returned within, and placed the cup on the boulder on which the Grand Cyclops had sat. He loosed the bundle of lightwood, took two pieces, tied them into the form of a cross, and laid it beside a lighted candle near the silver cup.
The silent figures watched his every movement. He lifted the cup and said:
”Brethren, I hold in my hand the water of your river bearing the red stain of the life of a Southern woman, a priceless sacrifice on the altar of outraged civilization. Hear the message of your chief.”
The tall figure with the yellow sash and double cross stepped before the strange altar, while the white forms of the clansmen gathered about him in a circle. He lifted his cap, and laid it on the boulder, and his men gazed on the flushed face of Ben Cameron, the Grand Dragon of the Realm.
He stood for a moment silent, erect, a smouldering fierceness in his eyes, something cruel and yet magnetic in his alert bearing.
He looked on the prostrate negro lying in his uniform at his feet, seized the cross, lighted the three upper ends and held it blazing in his hand, while, in a voice full of the fires of feeling, he said:
”Men of the South, the time for words has pa.s.sed, the hour for action has struck. The Grand Turk will execute this negro to-night and fling his body on the lawn of the black Lieutenant-Governor of the State.”
The Grand Turk bowed.
”I ask for the swiftest messenger of this Den who can ride till dawn.”
The man whom Doctor Cameron had already chosen stepped forward:
”Carry my summons to the Grand t.i.tan of the adjoining province in North Carolina whom you will find at Hambright. Tell him the story of this crime and what you have seen and heard. Ask him to report to me here the second night from this, at eleven o'clock, with six Grand Giants from his adjoining counties, each accompanied by two hundred picked men. In olden times when the Chieftain of our people summoned the clan on an errand of life and death, the Fiery Cross, extinguished in sacrificial blood, was sent by swift courier from village to village. This call was never made in vain, nor will it be to-night, in the new world. Here, on this spot made holy ground by the blood of those we hold dearer than life, I raise the ancient symbol of an unconquered race of men----”
High above his head in the darkness of the cave he lifted the blazing emblem----
”The Fiery Cross of old Scotland's hills! I quench its flames in the sweetest blood that ever stained the sands of Time.”
He dipped its ends in the silver cup, extinguished the fire, and handed the charred symbol to the courier, who quickly disappeared.
CHAPTER III
THE PARTING OF THE WAYS
The discovery of the Captain of the African Guards lying in his full uniform in Lynch's yard send a thrill of terror to the triumphant leagues.