from his reverie and began an endless denunciation
of both parties in Kansas. Northern and Southern factions had become
equally vile. The Southerners were always criminals. Their crime was now
fully shared by the time servers, trimmers and liars in the Free State
party.

His eyelids suddenly closed halfway and his eyes shone two points of
light as his metallic voice rang without restraint:

"They're all crying peace, peace!"

He paused and hissed his words through the grass.

"There shall be no peace!"

CHAPTER XVIII

Brown lay flat on his belly the last hour of the day catching moments
of fitful sleep. At sunset he lifted his small head above the grass
and scanned the horizon. There might be the curling smoke of a camp in
sight. A relief party might be on his trail.

He breathed a sigh of satisfaction. All was well. The sun was fast
sinking beneath the hills, the prey was in sight and no hand could be
lifted to help.

The moment the shadows closed over the ravine he rose, stretched his
cramped body and turned to Thompson.

"Build your fire for supper."

Thompson nodded.

"And give our men all they can eat."

"Yes, sir."

"They'll need their strength to-night."

"I understand."

The supper ready, Brown gathered his band around the camp fire and
offered thanks to his God. The meal was eaten in silence. The tension
of an imperious mind had gripped the souls of his men. They moved as if
stalking game at close quarters.

And they were doing this exactly.

The last pot and pan had been cleaned and packed. The fire was
extinguished. Brown issued his first order of the deed.

"Lie down flat in the grass now."

The men dropped one by one. Brown was the last.

"When I give the word, see that your arms are in trim and march single
file fifty yards apart and beat the brush as you go. If you come on a
cabin in our path not marked in our survey, it is important. Do not pass
it. Report to me immediately."

There was no response. He had expected none. The order was final.

The first move in the man hunt was carefully planned.

The instinct to kill is the elemental force, beneath our culture, which
makes the hunter. The strongest personalities of our world-conquering
race of Nordic freemen are always hunters. If they do not practice
the chase the fact is due to an accident of position in life. The
opportunity has not been given.

Beneath the skin of the man of the College, the Council Table, the