in a whisper! What are you all afraid of? Who! are the Scowrers?”
The boarding-house keeper instinctively sank his voice, as everyone did who talked about that terrible society. “The Scowrers,” said he, “are the Eminent Order of Freemen!”
The young man stared. “Why, I am a member of that order myself.”
“You! I vould never have had you in my house if I had known it—not if you vere to pay me a hundred dollar a veek.”
“What’s wrong with the order? It’s for charity and good fellowship. The rules say so.”
“Maybe in some places. Not here!”
“What is it here?”
“It’s a murder society, that’s vat it is.”
McMurdo laughed incredulously. “How can you prove that?” he asked.
“Prove it! Are there not fifty murders to prove it? Vat about Milman and Van Shorst, and the Nicholson family, and old Mr. Hyam, and little Billy James, and the others? Prove it! Is there a man or a voman in this valley vhat does not know it?”
“See here!” said McMurdo earnestly. “I want
