So the night-riders was formed to burn their
barns and ruin their crops and whip 'em and shoot
'em and make 'em jine. And also to burn a few
trust warehouses now and then, and show 'em this
free American people, composed mainly out of the
Angle-Saxton races, wasn't going to take no sass
from anybody.
An old feller by the name of Rufe Daniels who
wouldn't jine the night-riders had been shot to
death on his own door step, jest about a mile away,
only a week or so before. The night-riders mostly
used these here automatic shot-guns, but they
didn't bother with birdshot. They mostly loaded
their shells with buckshot. A few bicycle ball
bearings dropped out of old Rufe when they gathered
him up and got him into shape to plant. They
is always some low-down cuss in every crowd that
carries things to the point where they get brutal,
Bud says; and he feels like them bicycle bearings
was going a little too fur, though he wouldn't let
on to his dad that he felt that-a-way.
So fur as I could see they hadn't hurt the trust
none to speak of, them night-riders. But they had
done considerable damage to their own county,
fur folks was moving away, and the price of land
had fell. Still, I guess they must of got considerable
satisfaction out of raising the deuce nights that-a-
way; and sometimes that is worth a hull lot to a
feller.
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