He heard
the rustle and murmur of the people round him, and then the voice
of McGinty sounded dull and distant through the covering of his
ears.
"John McMurdo," said the voice, "are you already a member of the
Ancient Order of Freemen?"
He bowed in assent.
"Is your lodge No. 29, Chicago?"
He bowed again.
"Dark nights are unpleasant," said the voice.
"Yes, for strangers to travel," he answered.
"The clouds are heavy."
"Yes, a storm is approaching."
"Are the brethren satisfied?" asked the Bodymaster.
There was a general murmur of assent.
"We know, Brother, by your sign and by your countersign that you
are indeed one of us," said McGinty. "We would have you know,
however, that in this county and in other counties of these parts
we have certain rites, and also certain duties of our own which
call for good men. Are you ready to be tested?"
"I am."
"Are you of stout heart?"
"I am."
"Take a stride forward to prove it."
As the words were said he felt two hard points in front of his
eyes, pressing upon them so that it appeared as if he could not
move forward without a danger of losing them.
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