Both companies reported their loss in general terms. Dr. Farnwright had established his hospital in the rear, and had a considerable number of patients. Captain Gordon could only report for half of his command, for the other half had been absent. The major passed on to the second platoon, and was startled to see that it was in command of the first sergeant.

"Where is Lieutenant Lyon?" he asked, choking down the emotions that agitated him.

"Missing, Major," replied Life.

"Missing?" repeated the father of the lieutenant. "I will hear your report later;" and he rode back to the head of the column.



CHAPTER XXIII

WITHIN THE CONFEDERATE LINES

The fall of the gigantic Tennessee lieutenant had created something like a panic among his cavalrymen who were pressing forward to flank the Kentuckians; and Sergeant Fronklyn, his face still covered with blood, seized the opportunity of their retirement to the rear to drag the form of Lieutenant Lyon out of the melee, and place him on the bank of the creek which bounded the camp on the west.

His first care was to wet his handkerchief from his canteen, and wash the blood from his face, so that he could see better. Then he felt of his wound which was somewhat swollen, and found the scalpskin was torn away from his head just above the temple. The bullet from the pistol of the trooper had glanced across his head with force enough to stun him without making a very bad wound. He washed it with the handkerchief, and then tied it over the top of his head, and under his chin.

He realized that he had had a very narrow escape from death; for if the ball had hit him an inch lower, it would certainly have killed him. He took a long draught of water from his canteen, and felt better. He was very thankful for his escape, and believed he should recover from the wound in a week. He knew that he was a prisoner; but it was probable that the Union army would open fire upon the intrenchments the next morning, and would capture it in the end, be it sooner or later.

He had seated himself by the side of the motionless form of his officer, not doubting that he was dead, though he immediately proceeded to satisfy himself on this question. He placed his hand on his heart. He had been a student in a medical institution at the time of his enlistment, and had made considerable progress in his studies, and had assisted Dr. Farnwright in the hospital when the occasion would permit.

The organ of life was still beating, and he uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. Thus encouraged, he continued to investigate the condition of the lieutenant. He could find no open wound, but there was a considerable swelling on the top of the head. He was convinced that the case would not be fatal. Taking the patient's handkerchief from the inside of his coat, he wet it thoroughly from his canteen. Then he unloosed the belt, and opened wide his coat.

He sprinkled the face from the wet handkerchief, and then bathed it very patiently for half an hour. At the end of this time the patient opened his eyes, slowly at first, and soon had them wide open. He recovered his consciousness later, and complained of a nausea at his stomach, and he continued to have an increase of the symptom till he had discharged the contents of that member.

"I feel better," said he very faintly, as he looked about him, and seemed to be bewildered. "Who are you?" he inquired; for it was too dark by this time for him to see anything distinctly.

"I am Sergeant Fronklyn," replied his attentive nurse. "Don't you know me, Lieutenant Lyon?"

"I should know you if I could see your face," replied Deck with a stronger voice.

"It is becoming rather dark about here. Have you any pain, Lieutenant?" inquired the sergeant.

"None of any consequence, Fronklyn; but my head aches," answered Deck. "Where do I happen to be just now?"

"Don't you remember what took place an hour ago, or more?"

"I have an idea that I was in a fight; but it all came to an end very suddenly," replied Deck, raising his head, and then sitting up on the ground.

"You were in a sharp fight, and you have lain here like a log for half an hour or more. I was afraid that you had been killed; but I thank God with all my heart and soul that you are still living," said Fronklyn very devoutly.

"Some of it comes back to me now," said the patient, as he looked about him as if to ascertain where he was; for his companion had not informed him on this point. "I had just struck down a trooper with my sabre when I heard the tramp of a horse behind me. I was about to wheel so as to face him, when I felt a blow on my head, and I can remember nothing more."

"You fell on the field, as I had before you."

"Are you wounded, Fronklyn?"

"I am slightly; and my case seems to be something like yours, though it was a pistol-ball that brought me down. I saw the trooper aim a great horse-pistol that might have been a hundred years old, and I have no doubt that the bullet was as big as they fire in those ancient flint-lock muskets. It stunned me for the moment; but I was on my feet at once, and saw you fall," the sergeant explained.

"Are you much hurt, Fronklyn?" asked Deck.

"Only a flesh-wound that will heal up in a week, or less. When I can get at my knapsack I will put a plaster on it."

"But you have not told me where we are, Fronklyn, and I cannot tell for the life of me," continued the lieutenant, looking around him again.

"Don't you remember that we were in the enemy's fortification when the fight went on?"

"I remember that. We had been crowded into the enemy's intrenchments by the crazy mob. A Southern captain claimed our platoon as the prisoners of his company; and that made me so mad that I ordered our men to charge upon them, and fight their way out of the fort," returned the wounded officer, whose mind seemed to be clear enough by this time.

"And that was just what we were doing when both of us went down; though I was on my feet soon enough to drag you out of the fight," replied the sergeant.

"What has become of the platoon?"

"You were on the flank, and Life Knox got in at the head of the men, dropping every Confederate that came in front of him; and the rest of our fellows were not far behind him. None of them were captured; but two were killed, and probably some of them were slightly wounded."

"The men are not prisoners, then?"

"They are not."

"How is it with us?"

"I suppose we are prisoners, for we are within the enemy's lines; but no person has been near us as we lay here. I think the Southerners have all they can attend to at present, and doubtless they are getting ready for a fight to-morrow morning; for General Thomas will certainly clean them out before he has done with them."

"What is to be done with us?" suggested Deck.

"That is a question, Lieutenant."

"Well, the next business in order is to get away, for I have no fancy for being taken to the South, since the Confederates have no provisions for their own men, and as prisoners we would starve with them," said Deck. "I haven't had my supper yet, and I feel a little faint. I have enough to eat in my haversack."

"So have I; for we were so busy at noon, that I did not have time to eat much dinner, though it was served as usual. I think we had better go to supper now, and then we will look about us."

Both of them began to eat from their haversacks, and they made a hearty meal of it. The lieutenant declared that he felt all right then, and his head did not ache half so bad as it had when he first came to himself. In the excitement of the day Deck had eaten very little. He had been careful that his soldiers had their dinner, but he had been too busy to attend to the matter himself. He had become somewhat faint while within the breastworks before the charge. At any rate, he felt a great deal better after he had eaten his supper.

"I wonder what they are doing in here," said he, looking to the middle of the camp, though it was now so dark that he could not make out anything.

"Of course there is going to be another battle in the morning, and the enemy here are getting ready for it," replied Fronklyn. "General Thomas was sent down here to capture these works, and drive the enemy away from this region, and he is going to do it. He is a regular army officer, and he understands his business."

"What do you suppose has become of your horse and mine, Fronklyn?" asked Deck, as he looked about him again. "I wouldn't lose Ceph for everything else I have in the world."

"I saw him pressing forward with the men after you had fallen, and it seemed as though he meant to do some fighting on his own account," replied the sergeant. "I fancy that both our horses went with the men out of the fort, and that they will be cared for, even if they are wandering about in the fields."

"The question just now is how we are to get out of this scrape," said Deck, as he rose from his seat on the wet ground. "I don't like the idea of going South as a prisoner, and not much better being paroled, and tied up in idleness for I don't know how long. We must get out of this place, Fronklyn."

"I am entirely of your opinion, Lieutenant; but I don't see any chance to do so now," replied the sergeant. "They have closed up the entrance by which we were forced in; for it is as dark there as all along the breastworks."

"No men appear to be stirring in this part of the camp, though there are plenty of them not ten rods from us," added Deck.

"But there is a line of sentinels all along the inside of the breastworks. I made out the men before it was as dark as it is now. If it wasn't for them we could climb over it, and go back to our camp," said Fronklyn. "Our men have two or three batteries on the field, and they are firing at intervals. The artillerists inside the fort are standing by their guns, and they fire them once in a while to show that they are awake."

"I think we had better reconnoitre the situation, and we may find some hole we can crawl through," suggested Deck, as he walked towards the creek which bounded the intrenchments on the west.

"Do you expect to get out this way?" inquired the sergeant.

"Perhaps we may possibly do so," replied the lieutenant.

"Impossible; I have looked into that creek before. It is wide near the river, and after the freshet of the last three days it is a rushing torrent, and the great river is not much better out in the middle," protested Fronklyn.

"Well, we must do something," Deck insisted earnestly. "I am going to move over where there is something going on. We can't afford to waste our time while we have any of it on our hands."

"All right, Lieutenant; I will follow you wherever you go," returned the sergeant.

Deck led the way towards the centre of the camp; but he had not gone two rods before he stumbled over the form of a dead trooper, one of the number who had been unhorsed in the charge of the platoon. Half a dozen more of them lay near the spot where the heaviest of the fighting had been done. Probably the wounded had been picked up and borne to the hospital.

"Lie down, Sergeant!" said Deck, as he did so himself.

A mounted officer rode along the line of sentinels as far as the creek, evidently assuring himself that all was safe in this part of the camp. He paused a moment at each of the guards, and finally turned his horse and rode back the way he had come.

"We must get over by the river, and see how it looks there," said Deck when the officer had passed out of hearing.

"Then we had better snake it; for if we stand up it may attract the attention of the sentinel nearest to us," suggested the sergeant, as he began to crawl after the manner of the reptile he had mentioned.

The lieutenant followed his example; for he realized that a moving object could be made out in the darkness. By this slow process of locomotion they reached the bank of the river, and heard the dull flow of the water from the middle of the great stream. The bank was high and steep; and it was soft and wet. From this point they could see a steamboat,—a small affair. It was headed up the river; but the light of the fires in the forward part of the craft enabled them to see her, and to make out her position.

On the shore above her there was a considerable crowd of men; but the observers were too far off to be seen distinctly. They could make out by the light of the steamer's fires two large flatboats, and a much smaller craft was made fast to the stern of the steamer. Deck had an idea, but he did not mention it. Stepping over the bank of the river, he began to descend the steep and slippery declivity; and Fronklyn, with a mental protest, followed him.



CHAPTER XXIV

A NIGHT ADVENTURE ON THE CUMBERLAND

It was walking by the feeling rather than the sight; for the black waters of the great river seemed to make the darkness more dense than in the camp above. Deck's lessons in reasonable caution came to his mind; and he had quite as much need of them as on the field of battle. A misstep might precipitate him into the dark waters of the rushing stream.

He did not "lose his head," which was exceedingly serviceable to him at the present moment. He had said nothing to his companion in regard to this perilous descent in the darkness, for he was sure Fronklyn would protest against the difficult and dangerous enterprise upon which he had entered; but he was willing that he should follow him, or remain in the camp, as he might think best.

The sergeant was a courageous man, as had often been demonstrated on the field of battle. He was not only loyal to the government, but to the lieutenant; and he would have sacrificed his life rather than abandon him in the present emergency. At the same time, he could see but little hope in the present venture, whatever it might be; for the lieutenant had not informed him in regard to his purpose in descending to the stream.

If he had seen the boat that was made fast to the stern of the steamer, it had no significance to him. He had never been a boatman; and the little craft was not suggestive to him as it was to Deck, who had spent much of his time on the waters of Bar Creek and Green River since his father moved from New Hampshire to Kentucky. He had not spoken of his plan to his associate, partly from the force of habit as an officer, and partly from the fear of being overheard by some one on the shore above. They had crawled, "snaked it," nearly half a mile, and had come to a point near the body of the Confederate troops.

It was not easy to stand up on the miry slope of forty-five degrees, and the feet of the leader had a tendency to give way in the mud. He took an angling course, which would require him to move five or six hundred feet up the river before he reached the water. He had left his sabre where his companion had removed it; but he still wore his belt, which he had replaced after he came to his senses; and the small revolver was suspended where the hip pocket would have been if his trousers had been provided with one.

He had nothing on that impeded his movements. Their slow progress in "snaking" it for so long a distance led the lieutenant to believe it must be ten or eleven o'clock in the evening. He continued his march on the diagonal of the slope, but with the greatest difficulty; and he often had to stop and rest from the exertion of the struggle with the mud. At the end of an hour, as Deck judged it might be, he had made about one-third of the distance to the water, and halted to recover his breath. At this pause in the descent Fronklyn came up with him. Both of them were out of breath, and neither of them spoke, though they were out of hearing of the enemy.

"This is a hard road to travel," said Deck, when he was more nearly in possession of his wind.

"That's right; but why we are travelling it I will be hanged if I can see," replied Fronklyn, his tones indicating that he was much disgusted with the present situation. "You did not tell me what you intended to do, Lieutenant."

"Because I did not wish to inform any of the enemy who might be within earshot of us," replied Deck. "I did not go off at half-cock when I started on this tramp. You have a first-class pair of eyes, Sergeant; and I supposed you would use them, and could see for yourself what I was about."

"I have used my eyes for all they are worth; but I will be hanged if I can see what you are driving at through this mud."

"Have you seen a steamboat anywhere on the great river?"

"I reckon I have; but I don't take it that you are going to her."

"That is just where I am going," answered Deck impressively and decidedly.

"Going to the steamboat!" exclaimed the sergeant incredulously.

"Precisely so."

"Then I suppose you expect to procure a passage in her across the river, if that is where she is going; and I can't see what else she is here for."

"I don't know why she is here, for I am not in the counsels of the enemy."

"You seem to be in a fair way to become better acquainted with the Southern army."

"The steamer may have brought supplies for this camp; and according to all accounts the soldiers inside of the breastworks are in need enough of them. I don't know what she is here for, though I have a suspicion that our forces will not find the enemy in their intrenchments in the morning. But, Sergeant Fronklyn, you are disgruntled, as I have never seen you before."

"Because it seems to me you are running as fast as the mud will permit you into the very jaws of the lion; or, if that is too figurative for your plain common-sense, into the hands of the enemy. You are a lieutenant, and they will be glad to get you; for they have not bagged many officers in the last twenty-four hours," replied Fronklyn.

"Sergeant, if you are dissatisfied with my movements, we are not in the camp or in the field, and you are at liberty to retire and look out for yourself."

"I would drown myself in the river before I would do that!" protested the sergeant warmly. "I hope I have not said anything disrespectful, Lieutenant. On the field I have followed you wherever you chose to go, or wherever you chose to send me. I have no doubt you know just where you intend to go, and just what you intend to do; but I am in darkness, and wish for light. I am going it blind; but I will follow you, even if it be into a Confederate prison-camp, Lieutenant!"

"I have no secret to keep from you, my dear fellow," said Deck, reaching out, and grasping for the hand of his companion, which he found, and pressed earnestly. "We have stood together on some fighting ground, and we will not fall out here, though we may fall down this slippery bank. You can see that I could not stop to make explanations within reach of the sound of the enemy's voices. What's that just above you, sergeant?" asked he, pointing to something on which a gleam of light from the steamer's fires fell.

"It looks like a board," replied Fronklyn; "it may be of use to us in making our way along this bank. I will get it;" and he went up the slope about a rod, and returned with it.

It was a board about ten feet long, and not more than six inches wide, and had probably been dropped from the camp above. The sergeant laid it down, and then seated himself upon it, Deck following his example.

"We may come to gullies made by the rain, and this board will help us in crossing them. I had nearly lost my balance in getting over one of them," added Fronklyn.

"I could not explain before, but I am ready to do so now," said Deck, taking up the conversation where he had left it before.

"Perhaps I ought not to ask an explanation; for I have been accustomed to obey your orders without asking a question, or to follow wherever you led the way," returned the sergeant.

"I have given you no order, Fronklyn; and, if I had, you are no longer under my authority. After a ship is wrecked the sailors look out for themselves," continued Deck. "You have seen the steamer; and you can see it better now than at any time before, for the firemen are piling in the wood, and the furnace doors are open."

The blazing fires under the boiler cast their light on the river and the banks, illuminating the scene ahead of her, but not astern, fortunately for the fugitives seated on the board, or they might have been seen, and their uniforms distinguished by the enemy. Some of this light was reflected to the stern of the steamer, through the openings on the main deck.

"I can see the steamer plainly enough now," said Fronklyn. "It looks as though ropes had been passed from the top of the banks down to the vessel."

"Very likely those are to assist the officers and privates to descend to her; and I wish we had a rope here to help us along," added Deck. "But do you see the small boat hitched to the stern of the steamer?"

"I can see it now plainly enough; but I had not noticed it before."

"I saw it when I first discovered the steamboat, and I have been making for it ever since. I was afraid if I said anything that little craft would be placed out of our reach before we got to it."

"I understand it all now!" exclaimed Fronklyn. "I hope you will excuse me for grumbling, Lieutenant, when I could not make head nor tail to your movement."

"That is all right, my dear fellow; only trust me first, and grumble afterwards, the next time. But we must be moving on."

"What about this board? It is rather heavy to lug the rest of the way," said the sergeant, as he lifted one end of it. "Shall we leave it?"

"It may be of use to us. If I had a pole about six feet long it would help me very much, and perhaps save me from sliding down into the river."

"If we could break the board in two in the middle, it would make two staffs for us."

"We can do that," added the lieutenant.

"How?"

"Shoot it in two."

This answer looked like a joke to the sergeant, and he gave his opinion that the board could not be broken in two in the middle without splintering it from one end to the other. Deck declared he could manage the case, and asked his associate to find the middle of the piece of lumber. By the time he had done so the lieutenant had taken out his revolver, loaded with six cartridges.

Placing the muzzle of the barrel on the board where Fronklyn pointed to the middle, he fired, repeating the operation till he had discharged it six times. The holes made by the balls were about an inch apart. The reports from the revolvers were only cracks; and, so far as they knew, no one heard them but themselves. Fronklyn put his foot on the board, and then with his hands hold of one end of it, lifted it till it snapped on the line of the bullet-holes. Each of them took one of the pieces, and renewed their tramp.

Deck kept the lead, as before, and placed the board on the lower side; and the sergeant did the same. The staff was as useful to them as the alpenstock to the mountain climber in Switzerland. It enabled them to double their speed, at least, and with much less labor than they had made their way before. The doors of the furnaces on the steamer were closed now, but they could see men descending by the lines to the gang-plank of the steamer.

In due time they arrived within ten rods of the small boat of which they desired to obtain possession. The furnace-doors were again opened to put in more fuel, and the scene was lighted by the blaze again. As a matter of prudence, the lieutenant lay down on his board, and the sergeant did the same.

"Now, Fronklyn, I will make my way to the boat, and bring it down for you to get in; for both of us need not incur the risk of doing this work."

"All right; I agree with you in regard to the risk, but I will do this instead of you," replied Fronklyn.

"Are you accustomed to handling a boat, and especially to rowing?" asked Deck.

"I never handled a boat at all, and never rowed one in my life," answered the sergeant.

"Then I must do this job;" and the lieutenant started on his mission.

Some of the soldiers had gone aboard the steamer, though he could see none on the after deck. Deck approached the river very cautiously, lying down on his board not less than three times when he thought he was observed. King Fortune favored him, for the current of the stream kept the boat swinging out and in. Watching his opportunity, he caught hold of the stern, and leaped into the boat as though nothing ailed his head, either outside or inside.

He dropped into the bottom of it, and peered over the deck of the steamer. Then he hauled on the painter till he brought the little craft up to the taffrail, where with no little difficulty he cast off the rope. He could see the soldiers on the upper bank, and those on the forward part of the steamboat; but they were all too busy to bestow any attention upon him. The current bore the tender rapidly down the stream.

When it had gone to a safe distance, Deck seated himself in the stern-sheets, and put his board in the scull-hole, and forced the boat to the shore, though not without a great deal of difficulty and labor. Fronklyn was on the lookout for it, and sprang lightly into the fore-sheets, making a spring on his board stick. The current took the boat, and no further exertion was necessary. They had escaped from the fortifications, and they were satisfied.



CHAPTER XXV

A BOAT VOYAGE DOWN THE GREAT RIVER

The tender in which Deck Lyon and his companion had embarked was a keel-boat such as is usually suspended by two ropes from either end to the upper extremity of a pole, like an ensign staff. It was about twelve feet long, and was not likely to upset, even in the turbulent water at the middle of the river which drained the Cumberland Mountains in the south-eastern part of the State.

Very heavy rains had been falling for several days, overflowing brooks and creeks so as to make many of them impassable; and the great river was swollen, though not to an unusual height in the rainy season. Deck made no effort at first to direct the craft, for he was well-nigh exhausted by the fatigues of the day and his efforts to escape from the fortification.

He kept his seat in the stern-sheets, as Fronklyn did in the forward part of the boat, which was still abreast of the camp, but well under the high bank of the stream. The enterprise was a success so far, and they were so well pleased to escape from the immediate vicinity of the enemy that they were not disposed to do anything but rest themselves. But in a few minutes they had recovered their breath, and ceased to pant from their exertions.

Left to its own guidance, or that of the current, it had whirled about two or three times; but Deck was too tired to be disturbed by this movement. Their uniforms were wet through; for it had rained all the afternoon and evening, and the tender had considerable water in her bottom. Under any other circumstances they would have been very uncomfortable; but their satisfaction at the escape from a prison or prison-camp in the near future was the uppermost thought in their minds, and for a time it banished the annoyance of wet and cold.

"If we whirl round like this it will make us dizzy," said the sergeant as a mild joke. "What makes the boat do so?"

"The tender is so happy to get out of Confederate hands that it wants to dance, and it is indulging in a waltz," replied Deck as another pleasantry.

"I wish it wouldn't do so, for I don't like the motion. I suppose you don't intend to continue this voyage down to New Orleans; for that would not be a more agreeable locality than the Beech Grove intrenchments," added Fronklyn.

"I don't believe we shall care to go as far as that."

"How far down do you mean to go, Lieutenant?"

"That depends; if we can get the craft under control, I don't think we need go much farther," said Deck, as he began to feel about in the bottom of the boat.

"What are you fishing for, Lieutenant?" asked his companion.

"I think you had better not use that word any more at present."

"What word?"

"Lieutenant; for I don't care to have my rank published any more on this cruise, for some one on the shore might hear it. Call me Deck; and as you are not a sergeant here any more than I am a lieutenant, I will not call you so; but I forget your first name, as I have never used it."

"They all call me Ben among my friends."

"Very well; Ben it is."

"I am satisfied, Deck, though it seems a little off now to call you by your given name, cut short, though we used to do so before you were promoted. But what are you feeling for?" asked Ben, as his companion continued to poke about him.

"I was trying to find the oars which belong in this boat," replied Deck. "See if you can find them near the bow."

Both of them made diligent search in every part of the boat; but no oars could be found, and it was evident that they were kept on board of the steamer.

"No oars; that makes it bad for us," added Deck.

"I can make a paddle out of my board," suggested Ben.

"Do so if you can," replied Deck as he picked up his own staff.

By this time, after sitting still for a while, both of them were chilled by the wet and the night air, and they needed exercise of some kind to warm them. Ben had a large and sharp knife in his pocket, and he began to whittle the board like a typical Yankee. Deck put his staff into the scull-hole, and made an effort to steer the tender, and thus prevent her from whirling. As a rudder it was a failure; but as an oar, heaving around the stern, he succeeded with much exertion in making a tolerably straight course.

"That village must be Robertsport," said Deck, who had carefully studied all the localities in this region on his map. "There is a big bend of the river here, and we might as well go ashore there as farther down."

"What has the bend to do with our going ashore there, Deck?"

"The water in the river has a tendency to flow straight ahead, Ben; I learned that at Big Bend, on the Green River, near Riverlawn."

"I know the place very well," added Ben.

"When we come to the bend below the village, the current will be likely to shoot us over near the opposite shore."

"But that will take us to the wrong side of the river, and we shall have to get across it afterwards; and, besides, the enemy will be on that side."

"I don't figure it out in just that way, Ben; for the current will take us to the north side of the stream. The river turns to the left, or south; but the water wants to go straight ahead, and that will cast us on the side where we are now: don't you see?"

"Well, I don't see. I am no boatman, and I won't raise any objection," replied Ben. "Here is your paddle. I had to cut it out in the dark, and work by faith, and not by sight, so that it is not handsome."

"It does first rate, Ben; but we shall have to do some hard work in holding the tender to the shore when the current throws it on the bank; and probably it is just as high as it is at the fort."

"I will do my share of the work if you will tell me how, Deck."

In a few minutes more the boat began to feel the current as it came to the bend, and they could hear the roar of the water as it was dashed against the shore. With the paddle Ben had made, Deck contrived to keep the tender from whirling about, though he had to work very hard to do so. With the bow pointed to the shore, which he could now make out in the gloom of the night, she was going ahead very rapidly, having now the full force of the stream.

"What am I to do, Deck?" demanded Ben, who did not feel at all at home while the craft was in the midst of her gyrations.

"The boat is going head on against the shore; but I don't know what sort of a landing-place it will prove to be. But whatever it is, take the painter in your hand"—

"Who?" cried Ben.

"The painter. The rope made fast at your end of the tender," replied the skipper of the craft impatiently; for the sergeant was entirely ignorant of nautical terms. "Take the end of the rope in your hand, and jump ashore as soon as it touches the land."

"All right; I understand you now," responded Ben, as he seized the painter, and stood up in the fore-sheets as well as the rolling of the boat in the current would permit.

"Now for it!" shouted Deck, as he felt the bottom of the boat strike on its keel.

Ben said nothing, but sprang over the bow of the boat, upon what seemed to be a flat shore, with the rope in his hand.

"Hold on with all your might, or I shall go down stream!" called Deck, as he vigorously plied his paddle in an effort to heave around the stern of the boat so that the current might strike it on the broadside.

The action of the stream helped him, and, assisted by the strength of Ben at the painter, the tender was thrown high and dry on the gentle slope where it had struck. The landing had proved to be a much less difficult task than Deck had anticipated, perhaps because he had skilfully handled the craft so that the current did most of the work.

The leader of the enterprise jumped from the stern-sheets upon the ground, which was a part of the tongue of land formed by the great bend, and extending to the south. Then Deck had a chance to look around him, though it was too dark to make out the situation.

"Where are we now, Deck?" asked Ben.

"I never was here before; but I guess we are not more than six miles below the intrenchments of the enemy on the Cumberland, and they have another breastwork on the south side of the river," replied Deck, as he continued to look about him.

"Where is Robertsport, of which you spoke a while ago?"

"That's on the opposite side of the river, not more than a quarter of a mile higher up. I suppose you are satisfied now that you are on the north side of the stream, and not on the south, as you anticipated, Ben," said Deck.

"Yes; I reasoned that matter out, and found you were right. I suppose you are about used up by this time. I wonder what o'clock it is."

"I have a watch if you have a match."

The sergeant took a tin box from his pocket, and lighted a match from it, and held it under his cap. Deck produced his watch, and found that it was twenty-five minutes past one.

"Later than I supposed," he added.

"We have been on our feet nearly twenty-four hours, and I think you must be about played out," said the sergeant with a gape. "I am tired out; and you are still young, too young to go without your regular sleep."

"But I shall survey this locality before I do anything else."

"I am with you."

"I did not expect to find anything like a flat surface here," continued the lieutenant, as he started to walk towards a high bluff in the direction from which they had come.

It was only a couple of rods from the water, and the flat space where they had come ashore was evidently made by the caving of the earth along the bluff, when the river had been even higher than at present. It was a hill which had possibly turned the river aside from its westerly course to the south at some remote period in the past. There was just such a bluff on the other side of the tongue of land, and possibly a hill there had again changed the river's course to the westward. But Deck's theory explained the presence of the fortunate flat where they had landed.

"Now we must find a way to get up on the hill above the high bluff," said he, as he led the way up the river.

Beyond the bluff the bank of the river was the same as it had been all the way from the fort, and the flat came to a sudden ending.

"Here is a flatboat," said Ben, who was the first to discover it. "Somebody must live near here."

"This looks like a path up the bank," added Deck, who had been studying the river above. "I think this must be a ferry, Ben; though I should suppose the ferryman would find it hard work to get through the current that brought us down."

It was plain that some work had been done on the path leading up the bank, which was diagonal with the steep slope. It had been dug out, and in the steepest parts there was something built for a fence or a hand-rail. On the opposite side of the river from Robertsport there was a road to the one extending from Harrison to Somerset. Doubtless the ferry, if there was one, was for the use of travellers into Wayne County, all of which lay on the south side of the river.

The fugitives were ready to mount the bluff by the path; but first they went back to the boat, which might be of use to them later if they had occasion to renew the voyage down the stream. They drew it back, and concealed it behind a huge rock which the current had laid bare. Then they mounted the path to the top of the bluff. Not ten rods from the shore they found a cabin, around which were some fruit-trees and the dried stalks of corn, showing that the land had been cultivated.

"This is some negro's house," said Ben, as they halted under a tree not two rods from the cabin, which was nothing more than a shanty.

"It looks like one. Very likely the ferryman lives here," replied Deck. "But there is some kind of a row going on in that cabin."

"It seems to be lighted up as though something was happening there at this time of night. We will go up nearer and look into the matter," returned Ben, as he walked towards the cabin, and stationed himself at the only window on that side of the building.

They listened for some time, and heard the voices of four different white men, as they judged from their dialect.

"I done tole you I can't cross de riber to-night. We should all be drownded, shore," replied an unmistakable negro.



CHAPTER XXVI

FOUR FUGITIVES FROM THE BATTLE-FIELD

The whinnying of a horse near the two wanderers attracted their attention, and Fronklyn went over to look at the animal. He found four of them hitched to the trees, all of them wearing cavalry saddles. The sergeant still had his carbine slung at his back. He unslung the firearm, thinking he might have occasion to use it. He knew the lieutenant had reloaded his revolver after making with it the holes across the board which had proved so serviceable to them.

In his report to the Confederate authorities at Richmond, General Crittenden alludes to a battalion of cavalry, of which some officers and privates were absent on furloughs, and of which all but about twenty-five ran away. It is possible that the four troopers who were trying to force the negro to ferry them over the river belonged to the number.

"Cavalry," said the sergeant as he returned to the lieutenant.

"They have threatened to shoot the negro if he don't ferry them over to Robertsport," added Deck, who had remained at the window of the shanty. "They called him Cuffy; and when they threatened to kill him, he rushed out of the house. I saw him go into the barn or outhouse in the rear. The men lost sight of him when they followed him out, and perhaps thinking he had gone to his boat, they went off in that direction. Let us find the negro."

They went to the shanty, which did duty as a barn; but Cuffy had concealed himself, and they could not find him. Deck called him by name several times; and if the ferryman was not extremely stupid, he could understand that neither his voice nor his speech was that of the troopers.

"Who's dar?" responded the negro, after a long delay.

"Come out here, and we will help you out of your trouble," added Deck.

"Who be you uns?" inquired Cuffy, which proved later to be his real surname.

"We are your friends."

"Whar dem sogers now?" asked the terrified ferryman.

"They moved off towards the river."

"Den dey done gone to steal my boat!" groaned the negro, coming out of his hiding-place with a gun in his hand.

As the wanderers followed him out of the barn, they saw in the darkness that his head was thickly covered with white wool, and he must have been well along in years. He evidently kept his gun and ammunition in this out-building, for he had a powder-horn and shot-bag suspended from his shoulders.

"What are you going to do with that gun, Cuffy?" asked Deck, who was rather astonished to see him armed.

"I's gwine to shoot one of dose men if dey try to kill me, as dey done sworn dey would," replied the ferryman.

"Better not do anything of that kind, Cuffy," said Deck. "We will stand by you, and we can fire shots enough to kill the whole of them."

"Who be you uns, Mars'r?" asked the ferryman, gazing at them, and trying to make them out in the darkness.

"We are Union soldiers, just escaped from the enemy," answered Deck.

"Bress de Lo'd!" exclaimed the negro. "Dem men was Seceshers, and is gwine to steal my boat. It's all I have to make a little money for de contribution-box, and ef I lose it I'm done ruinged."

"Never mind the boat, Cuffy," continued Deck, as he led the way to the four horses; for he had seen the Southrons go off on foot, and knew they had not taken them. "Mount one of these animals, Ben."

He led out one of them, and put himself in the saddle, while the sergeant did the same with another.

"Can you ride a horse, Cuffy?" asked the lieutenant.

"I done ride 'em all my life."

"Get one of the others, then. Can we get to the ferry on horseback?"

"For sartin, Mars'r; some folks goes down to de boat on hosses, and we swim 'em ober de riber," replied Cuffy, as he mounted the animal he had chosen. "My son comes ober dat way."

"Now lead the way to the ferry. Do they know where you keep your boat?"

"Dunno, Mars'r; but I reckon dey find it."

Cuffy conducted the wanderers nearly to the Harrison road, and then took a path towards the river, arriving in a few minutes at the head of the descent to the flat below.

"Not too far, Cuffy; fall back a little, where the men cannot see you," said Deck in a low tone.

"But I's gwine to shoot 'em if dey touch my boat," said the owner, his determination indicated in his tones.

"Don't do it, and don't let them see you," added Deck in a low tone, but with energy enough to impress the negro.

"Dey gwine to steal my boat!" groaned Cuffy; and his agony seemed to be intense. "Den whar I git any money for de missions?"

"Never mind your boat, man. I saw it down below; it is not worth much, and I wouldn't give two dollars for it," said Deck somewhat impatiently.

"I takes folks ober de riber in it, and some days I makes twenty cents wid it. Can't affode to lose it, Mars'r," protested Cuffy.

"If you lose it, I will give you another."

"Dat so? Whar's yo' boat?"

"It is down below there, and you will not have to wait a single hour for it."

"Whar you git dat boat, Mars'r?"

"No matter about that now; I will tell you when we have more time," replied Deck, as he rode his horse to a tree, followed by both of his companions, and secured him to the sapling, as did the others.

Returning to the bank, they lay down upon the ground, where they could see the four troopers without being seen. They had found the negro's flatboat, and carried it to the stream. This was done, perhaps, half a mile above where the wanderers had landed, and the current was not so violent as it was where the water concentrated all its force against the lofty bluff.

The Southrons put the boat into the water after they had tipped it over, and emptied out the leakage or the rain which it contained. Then they seated themselves equidistant fore and aft in the rickety craft, and pushed off.

"I knowed dey was gwine to steal my boat," groaned Cuffy again, as the skiff receded from the shore.

"Don't say that again!" said Deck, disgusted with the ferryman. "If you do, I won't give you any boat for the one you lose!"

"I lub dat boat, Mars'r. Berry ole friend ob mine," pleaded Cuffy.

"Say no more about it; perhaps you will get it again, for those men only wish to get across the river," added Deck in a milder tone. "You would not take them over, and they intend to ferry themselves across."

"I can't ferry dem ober in de night, when de riber is ragin' like a roarin' lion seekin' wem he mout devour. No, sar; ef Mars'r looks long enough, he's see dem men all devoured like as ef de ragin' lion had 'em in his gills," said Cuffy very impressively, as though he was within hail of a funeral. "Don't b'lebe dey done been converted."

Two of the troopers had paddles, or something that was a cross between a paddle and an oar; for the wanderers had seen them in the boat in the darkness. They forced the skiff out into the current, headed directly for the opposite shore. They did very well so far; but in a few moments more the full strength of the stream struck them, and the flimsy craft was carried down the stream at a rapid rate. They were farther out than the keel-boat had been; and the rushing water, lifted into waves by its own force, began to tumble about as it would have done in the wilder rapids of Niagara.

None of the four were skilful boatmen, and there seemed to be no one in particular in the skiff to take the lead. As usually happens on such occasions, the two men without paddles were frightened, and stood up, which was the worst possible thing they could do. The two who were managing the boat did not agree as to the method of handling it, and each wanted his own way of doing it. Each of them was sure he could do it, and that the other could not.

The couple with the paddles could not use them; and the skiff whirled as it mounted the waves, and then it heeled over from one side to the other. The two men who were standing up jumped from one side to the other; then one of them lost his balance, and tumbled overboard. The second tried to save him, and one of the two with the paddles went to his assistance, the result of this, throwing the weight nearly over on one side, capsized the boat, and the next instant all four of them were floundering in the uneasy tide.

"De boat done tip over!" exclaimed Cuffy, as though his companions on the bluff could not see for themselves what had happened.

"Perhaps we can save the men!" said Deck, as he rose from the ground and ran with all his might to the path leading down to the landing of the ferry, closely followed by the sergeant.

"Sabe de boat!" shouted Cuffy, trying to keep up with them, though he soon fell far behind them.

The lieutenant was first to reach the foot of the path, and saw the four unfortunates whirling through the agitated current, directly towards the bluff where the keel-boat had been thrown on the flat. They were too far out for him to reach them, and he could do nothing. It was plain that not one of them could swim, and if they had been able to do so at all they could have done nothing in the boiling flow of the rapid current. They were swept down the stream, and being farther out from the shore than the other boat had been they were not dashed upon the flat.

Deck and Fronklyn watched them till they disappeared behind the bend, though one was seen to go down before he reached it, and the others must soon have followed him. The skiff had gone on ahead of them, and was the first to pass beyond the view of the observers. The lieutenant, with the hope that he might save the men if they were thrown on the flat in an exhausted condition, had nearly reached the high bluff. The sergeant had ceased to hurry when he realized that nothing could be done for the doomed troopers. They had to pay the penalty of their own folly.

Fronklyn and Cuffy soon joined Deck, the negro putting all his strength into his lamentations for the loss of his boat. He did not seem to realize that four men had just passed into eternity; but Deck had more charity for him after he said he loved the flimsy craft, and reproached him no more.

"Your boat is gone for the present, but you may find it again," said Deck with an effort to comfort him. "It will be cast ashore by the current, or be drawn into some eddy. When the river gets quiet again, you can go down stream and find it in some place where the logs gather on the shoal places."

"I dunno, Mars'r; how kin I go down de riber when I done lose my boat?" demanded Cuffy.

"Come with me," said Deck, as he led the way to the rock behind which they had left the steamer's tender. "There is a boat you can use till some one claims it."

"Glory Hallelujah!" exclaimed the negro, when he saw the keel-boat; and he was skilled enough to perceive even in the darkness, that it was a vastly better one than the skiff he had lost.

"Whar you git dat boat, Mars'r?" asked Cuffy, disturbed by the suggestion that some one might claim it.

"Can you keep a secret, Cuffy?" asked Deck.

"Kin keep a hund'ed on 'em."

"That's too many for one man to keep," replied the lieutenant, who decided not to admit, as he had before intended to do, in what manner they had escaped from the enemy's camp. "This boat belongs to the steamboat up by Mill Springs; we have no further use for it, and we shall leave it here. But you haven't lost anything of any value to-night. We shall want two of the men's horses, as they have no further use for them, and you can keep the other two, Cuffy. You can sell them for money enough to make you rich."

"Bress de Lo'd!" cried the ferryman.

"Come along now, and we will go back to your shanty," said Deck, as he led the way to the tree where the horses had been secured. They all mounted, and rode back to the cabin, where the tired trooper and his officer went to bed in the barn on some straw they found there.



CHAPTER XXVII

THE OWNER OF THE MANSION ON THE HILL

Cuffy took care of the horses, for two of them were to belong to him, giving them even a feed of corn-meal mixed with water, which was all he had to give them. He hitched them in the barn with the exhausted soldiers of the Riverlawn Cavalry, though it was rather close quarters for them. Deck preferred the out-building to Cuffy's bed, which he offered them.

It was four o'clock in the morning when the lieutenant and the sergeant retired upon their bed of straw, though there was plenty of it, and it was a luxury to men who had been accustomed to lie at night on the ground. They had been fully twenty-four hours on their feet, and had been through a great deal of excitement during the day and the night. They were asleep about as soon as they struck the bed.

Cuffy came to the barn about nine o'clock in the forenoon to attend to the horses. He led them all out to water, and then gave them another feed in tubs. His guests had complained of fatigue, and he allowed them to sleep as long as they desired.

It was noon when Fronklyn awoke, and he had slept his full eight hours. Deck put in another hour; for he was younger than his companion, and needed more sleep. The sergeant had worn his overcoat all the day and night, though he had several times been tempted to throw it away, especially when they were climbing down the steep bank of the river. He was glad he had not done so when he went to bed on the straw.

He had given his blanket to Deck, though it required a great deal of persuasion to induce him to accept it; but Fronklyn had an overcoat. It was not so cold as to interfere with the slumbers of the weary soldiers; and when they woke they felt like new men. They went to a brook that flowed through the negro's farm, and had a thorough wash to freshen them up. The sergeant then renewed the plaster on his head, and examined the wound of his companion. The swelling had nearly all gone down, though there was still a soreness there; but the patient felt well enough for duty.

"Here we are, Ben; what is the next move on the checker-board?" said Deck, as they returned from the brook to the barn.

"Considering what we have been through since the sun went down last night, I think we are very well fixed to-day. We have a couple of horses to go where we please, and all we have to do is to ride back to the outside of the Beech-Grove camp of the enemy; for we have seen enough of the inside of it," replied Fronklyn.

"We can't be many miles from it; and when we get there I think we shall find our army in possession of it. That steamer whose boat we borrowed, and the other craft about there, must have been busy ferrying the enemy across to the Mill Springs fortification," added Deck. "But what do you suppose has become of all those cavalry men, and infantry too, that ran away from the battle-field?"

"I don't imagine that a great many of them went back to the intrenchments, and probably most of them are wandering about the country in this vicinity," replied the sergeant. "The farmers' corncribs, if there is anything left in them, will suffer for the next week. They are not bashful, those fellows; and I have no doubt they will visit the houses, and order meals as they would at a hotel."

"We are liable to meet them on our way back to the camp; and if we have anything they want, they are likely to take it. Your blanket and overcoat would be useful to them, and so would the horses. But I fancy they would move about in small parties, and we may be able to take care of ourselves. You have your carbine, and I have my revolver."

"That looks like a big house on the hill back of us," said Fronklyn, pointing to the mansion.

"Mornin', Mars'rs!" shouted Cuffy, coming from his shanty to meet them. "You done git up; I don't 'sturb you, coz I knowed you was tired out."

"We are glad you didn't, and we feel first-rate this morning. Whose house is that on the hill?" asked Deck.

"Dat's de mansion ob Cun'l Hickman, my ole mars'r," replied Cuffy. "He owns all de land 'bout here, mor'n tousand acres. He let me live on dis corner when he want me to run de ferry, and I stops here eber since."

"Then he must be very rich."

"Rich! Dat ain't no name for't. He's got more money'n de Bank ob London, 'n I reckon he could buy out de State of Kaintuck. He's pow'ful rich, Mars'r."

"Is he a Secessionist?" asked Deck.

"Cun'l Hickman! Secesher! No, sar! He's de out-en-outenish Union man in Kaintuck," returned Cuffy, whose politics were not at all in doubt with his guests. "De Seceshers done raided his place fo' times; yesterday was de last time, 'n I reckon dem fellers dat wanted me to ferry 'em ober de riber in de night is de ones dat did it. I done seen 'em on de hill fo' dark. I done see lots o' men wid guns, and some on hossback dis mornin' strollin' 'long de riber an' ober de country."

"Which way did they come from, Cuffy?" inquired Deck.

"Most on 'em com 'd down de Harrison road, an' some on 'em was beat'n' across de farm."

"Have you heard of the great battle that was fought over by Logan's Cross Roads?" asked the sergeant.

"I don't hear ob no battle," replied the negro, opening his eyes wide enough to let them drop out of their sockets. "Gollywhimpers!" suddenly exclaimed Cuffy, turning his gaze towards the mansion on the hill, "dar comes de cun'l on a hoss!"

The lieutenant and the sergeant looked in the direction indicated by the ferryman, and saw a man riding down the hill at a breakneck speed. As he came nearer they saw that he was a person over sixty years of age, with long, flowing white hair, like one of the patriarchs of old. He wore a soft black hat, well back on his head. He looked behind him frequently, as though he expected something to transpire in that direction. As Cuffy said, his mansion had been raided several times, and he might have got used to such events.

"W'a—w'a—w'at's de matter, Cun'l Hickman?" shouted the ferryman, before the gentleman came within ten rods of him.

The rider did not check his speed till he reined in his horse in front of the negro and his guests. He looked at the two officers without giving any attention to Cuffy, and seemed to be astonished to find them there.

"I see that you wear the blue," said the colonel, addressing Deck, whose shoulder-straps apparently excited his attention.

"We belong to the army of the United States, sir," replied Deck.

"Then how do you happen to be here?" demanded the colonel in a tone and with a look of great severity.

"It would take some time, Colonel Hickman, to answer your question in full," returned Deck; "but I will say that we marched and fought yesterday from four o'clock in the morning till dark, and were practically prisoners in the camp of the enemy at the end of the day, but escaped in the night in a boat we took from a steamer alongside the fortifications at Beech Grove."

"Excuse me for speaking somewhat abruptly, Lieutenant, and give me your hand; for I honor every man that fights or works for his country," continued the colonel. "I am somewhat too old to do either, or I should not be at home."

Deck took the proffered hand, and it was warmly pressed by the planter, and he extended the same courtesy to the sergeant.

"My mansion is beset by a band of ruffians, and I have been obliged to flee for my life," pursued the planter, glancing back at his house as though he expected to see the flames rising from it.

"Do they mean to burn the mansion?" asked the lieutenant, misinterpreting the glance of the owner.

"Not at all; I have no fear that they will do that, for they are looking for my money, for I have some concealed on my premises where they will never find it," said the planter with a significant shake of the head, which was as much as to say, "I have euchred them!"

"I suppose the banks in this part of the State are no longer safe repositories for valuables," added Deck.

"They are not, and I keep a comparatively small amount for current expenses at hand. This same band raided me three days ago, and threatened to hang me in front of my mansion if I did not give up my money; but I would burn the bank-bills rather than permit them to fall into the hands of these miscreants. I had a horse ready as soon as I saw the ruffians coming down the private road from Millersville; and I keep several of my negroes on the watch for them. I escaped on my horse before, as I have done this time."

"How many are there in this band, Colonel?" asked Deck.

"My negroes counted ten of them. These raids are not uncommon events; and there were two or three of them within less than ten miles, sometimes by the enemy's foragers, and sometimes by partisan gangs. The mansion of Mr. Halliburn was captured a few days ago; but a very clever young lieutenant, whose name was Lyon, in command of a detachment of cavalry, entrapped the whole gang of ruffians in the house, and made prisoners of every one of them, without the loss of a man."

"Perhaps I know more about that affair than you do, Colonel Hickman; for my name is Lyon, and I happen to be the officer to whom you allude," replied Deck, looking at the ground.

"Lieutenant Lyon! Is it possible?" exclaimed the planter, taking the young man's hand again.

"But we will not talk about things that are passed and gone, Colonel," interposed the young officer. "I wish I had my platoon, or even half of them, here. Now, what can we do to aid you in this trouble, and free you from the annoyance of such enemies?"

"As you have only a sergeant with you, I don't see that you can do anything, my young friend; though I am as much obliged to you for your good intentions as though you had a whole army behind you," said the planter. "I have been a soldier myself, and I was one of the young Kentuckians that fought in the battle of New Orleans under General Jackson."

"Have you any arms at your mansion, sir?" inquired Deck, as though he had some scheme in his head.

"Plenty of them; enough to supply half of your platoon."

"Can you get back to your house without being seen, Colonel?"

"Easily; back of my house is an avenue, planted with trees, by which I once made my escape while they were looking for me. You can see it on the south side of the hill; and it extends down to the river, the last part of it on the tongue of land, so that it has the stream on each side of it," the old soldier explained.

"If you have such a quantity of arms, where do you keep them?"

"In the spring-house, the brick building on the brook, which you cannot see from here. I have five sons and one daughter; two of the boys are in the army, and three are past the military age, though they belong to the Millersville Home Guards, and were called out for duty three days ago. I expect them home soon; but they have been gone four days now. My overseer, his assistant, and two mechanics, went over to see the fight yesterday afternoon, and they have not yet returned."

"Dar dey is, Mars'r Cun'l!" shouted Cuffy, pointing to the Harrison road, down which three mounted riflemen were riding.

"I am glad to see them," added the planter, as the men came up the hill.

The father greeted them heartily, and they began to tell what service they had rendered during the preceding day on the right flank of the field of battle. One of them happened to turn his head, and saw Deck; and, interrupting the conversation that was going on, he shouted,—

"Lieutenant Lyon!"

The other two, who had also been with the riflemen under command of Captain Ripley, repeated the exclamation.

"We fought under the command of Lieutenant Lyon most of the day yesterday, and he is one of the ablest and bravest officers in the service," said one of the sons. "He is"—

"We will hear that another time, Mr. Hickman; and you may have a chance to fight under me to-day, for your father's mansion is beset by a band of ruffians, who threaten to hang him," interposed Deck. "We muster six men now, and I propose to clean them out."

It was talked over for a little while, and the party soon rode off to one of the openings of the avenue by the river.



CHAPTER XXVIII

THE FIGHT BEGINS AT GROVE-HILL MANSION

Colonel Hickman led the way; and, like most Kentuckians of good estate, he rode an excellent horse. He hurried the animal beyond the capacity of the two cavalry horses which had come into the possession of Deck and Fronklyn, and he reached the avenue by the river considerably in advance of the others. He rode into the opening, and disappeared behind the trees.

By this time the lieutenant had an opportunity to examine this approach to the mansion. The road was not more than thirty feet wide, with three rows of trees on each side of it, so that it was really a grove consisting of a variety of trees. It had evidently been laid out many years before, for the ground was completely shaded. The mansion faced the Millersville road, and in the rear of it was quite a village of out-buildings.

The planter halted as soon as he was in the avenue, and waited till the others joined him. After all that had been said about him by the sons, he was willing to leave the management of the affair to Lieutenant Lyon; for, young as he was, he had obtained some experience in defeating and capturing such marauders as those who had taken possession of the great house on the hill. The ruffians were after the colonel's money; a gentleman as wealthy as he was reputed to be must have a considerable sum on hand, as he had admitted, for the payment of his ordinary expenses.

Deck had asked but few questions in regard to the situation, preferring to inform himself more fully when he had seen the premises. The avenue, or grove, was as the owner had described it. At the point where the party had passed into it, the mansion could not be seen at all through the dense foliage of the trees; and the approach to it was entirely safe, even if the ruffians had placed some of their number on guard outside of the dwelling. The covered road was not entirely straight, for several bends and curves made it more picturesque than it would otherwise have been.

It was certainly a very pleasant place for a ride on a warm day; and the young lieutenant had taste enough to appreciate and admire it, though under the circumstances he could not use much of his time in examining its beauties, which he would have been pleased to do at a more convenient season. Just then he looked at it as a strategist rather than as a lover of art.

"I don't quite understand, Colonel Hickman, how you succeeded in getting away from your mansion without having a bullet planted somewhere in your head or body," said Deck, as he surveyed the surroundings. "You came directly down the hill, and not through this avenue."

"As I have told you before, I have been on the lookout for these miscreants since their former visit, when they threatened to hang me to one of my trees if I did not give up what money I had on hand," replied the planter. "I was alone on the estate, and of course I could not defend myself against ten men armed with rifles or muskets. I kept half a dozen of my negroes on the watch upon the road, to notify me of their coming. I had my horse saddled and bridled all the time. As soon as I was informed that the ruffians were coming, I hastened to the stable, mounted, and rode down the hill by the shortest way, in the direction of the road to Harrison. I did not expect to obtain assistance before I reached Jamestown, where I thought some of the Federal troops might be posted. I was glad to find you at Cuffy's, and rejoiced to meet my sons again."

"If there are ten of the ruffians, we shall still be outnumbered," added Deck. "But I hope we shall be able to outmanoeuvre them."

"My sons are riflemen, and they are dead shots at a long distance," said the colonel.

"I am aware of that, for I have seen them shoot with the rest of Captain Ripley's men. I think we had better be on the march," added the lieutenant. "We will send out a couple of pickets to feel the way for us. Sergeant Fronklyn shall go for one, and with him one of your sons, to show him the way and explain the situation."

"Warren shall accompany him, and can give him all the information he needs," the planter decided.

The sergeant and the planter's son started the horses, and rode off at full gallop; but they did not continue at this speed for more than half-way to the top of the hill, and they soon disappeared at a bend in the avenue. Deck and the rest of the party followed.

"I think we had better leave our horses here," said Fronklyn, as he reined in his steed. "The sound of the horses' feet may betray us."

"I obey your orders, Sergeant; but the villains will not hear us at this distance," replied Warren Hickman. "I have no doubt they are looking for the money in the house."

At this suggestion they rode some distance farther; and, turning another bend, Fronklyn discovered a three-story building at what appeared to be the end of the avenue. He stopped his horse, and was decidedly opposed to riding any farther. He could not yet see the mansion; but through the trees he saw several other buildings.

"What is the three-story house?" asked the sergeant.

"That is the stable; but it is built on the side of the hill, and there are only two stories on the front," replied Warren.

Both of the riders dismounted; and, after securing the horses to the trees, they walked to the stable. The lower part was a cellar in the side-hill, and appeared to be used as a place for storage. The planter's son led the way into this apartment, and then mounted the stairs leading to the middle story. There were half a dozen horses there, and stalls for as many more. The doors were wide open, and the pickets, or scouts, moved about very carefully.

Warren then looked out of the doors and windows; but not a person could be seen, except some negro men and women, who appeared to be skulking about the premises, apparently ready to run away in case of danger. The sergeant and the rifleman had both unslung their firearms, and were ready for business if they discovered any of the marauders. The planter's son then ascended to the hayloft, and from the windows there surveyed all that could be seen of the premises from them.

"We don't get ahead much," said Warren, as he descended the stairs. "I must get at one of the servants, though they all seem to keep out of harm's way."

"It is time for us to know the situation here," replied Fronklyn, as he followed his companion down the stairs.

As a matter of precaution, Warren closed the great doors, though a smaller one was left open on one side of them. They found that all the horses in the stable were saddled and bridled for use. While he was wondering what this meant, a dozen blacks rushed in through the open door. They seemed to be greatly alarmed.

Adjoining the stable on each side were the carriage-houses; and Warren hastened into one of them, supposing that the marauders were pursuing them; but no enemy followed them. The negroes went into the stalls, and began to lead out the horses.

"What does all that mean, Warren?" asked Fronklyn in a whisper.

"I don't know," replied the planter's son, as he cocked his rifle, and returned to the stable. "What are you about here?" he demanded.

"Mars'r Warren!" exclaimed several of them.

"What are you going to do with the horses, Phil?" asked Warren.

"Who shut the big doors, Mars'r Warren?" asked Phil, who appeared to be an upper servant of some kind.

"What are you going to do with the horses, Phil?" exclaimed the planter's son angrily.

"I thought the robbers had got into the stable, and I wanted to save the horses," replied the servant, breaking down at the tone of the master's son.

"You are lying, Phil! You would not have dared to come into the stable if you had supposed the robbers were here."

"We was gwine to run away on de hosses," added a very black fellow.

"Don't know who shut de big doors, Mars'r, if de robbers don't do it," said another, who was evidently a field-hand.

"I didn't think there was more'n one of them here," added Phil, as he held up a revolver with which he had armed himself after the departure of the planter. "I meant to kill him, and get away with the horses."

"Perhaps you would have done so."

"I do it for sure."

"Now, where are the robbers?" asked Warren.

"In the house. We don't see any for more'n half an hour. I think they looked part of the house over to find the money, and then went up-stairs to hunt for it," replied Phil, who appeared to be an intelligent fellow, far superior to the rest of them.

"Very well; you may get on the horses, and ride down the avenue till you meet the colonel," added the son of the planter. "Now, Sergeant, we will find the condition of things in the house."

The negroes led all the horses down an inclined plane into the cellar. This was not an uncommon device in large cities to economize space; but the planter had caused it to be built for just such an emergency as the present, and he had made his escape in this manner from the estate. The terrified servants mounted the horses in the cellar, and entered the avenue by the way Warren and the sergeant had left it.

The two scouts passed out of the stable by the same door. Keeping behind the outbuildings, they reached the side of the mansion. Passing entirely around it, they looked in at every window very cautiously; but were unable to see a single guerilla on the lower floor. By an outside door they went into the cellar of the dwelling. They found several places where the earth had been dug up, but not a man was to be seen.

"Now, Warren, I am going up-stairs; and I should like to have you return to the avenue, and bring up the rest of our party as quickly as possible," said Fronklyn in a low tone.

"Up-stairs!" exclaimed the planter's son. "Do you mean to throw away your life?"

"Not if I know myself; but I wish the lieutenant was here," replied the sergeant, who had noted the stairs that led to the next floor.

"I will do as you say, Sergeant; but I hardly expect to find you alive when I come back," answered Warren.

"I believe I can take care of myself; and I think these ruffians have put themselves just where we want them," said Fronklyn, recalling the strategy at Mr. Halliburn's mansion.

Warren left the cellar by the same way they had entered, and made his way around the out-buildings to the avenue. Fronklyn stole up the stairs, after he had removed his shoes, and looked into half a dozen rooms on the first floor. The carpets had been partly torn up, the furniture overturned and broken up, the closets ransacked, and abundant other evidence that the search for money or other valuables had been completed in this part of the mansion.

On the floors of the second story he could hear the tramp of shoes, the cracking and snapping of furniture, and the rough speech of coarse men. The search for money was still in progress; and the planter's son was sure the marauders would not find that which they were seeking. The money might be safe, but that was certainly not the case with the mansion and furniture.

In the great hall, in a corner behind the front door, the sergeant found a large steel safe, with its door wide open, and entirely empty. The planter had evidently removed his valuables, including his books and papers, to what he believed was a more secure depository for them. The robbers had drawn it out from the corner, plainly to search behind it for the hidden treasure. Fronklyn opened the front door of the mansion, and then deposited himself behind the safe, the house door concealing him on the open side.

His carbine was in condition for immediate use, and he had taken a revolver from the horse he had ridden belonging to the trooper who had perished in the river. The noise up-stairs continued, and he had become somewhat impatient for the appearance of the rest of the party. He was inclined to "open the ball;" but he concluded that it would be a piece of rashness for him to do so, and he refrained from doing anything. Between the door and the safe he obtained a full view of the head of the staircase.

"There comes the planter!" shouted some one in the hall above.

"Hang him!" yelled another.

"Down-stairs all together!" cried the first speaker, who was perhaps the leader of the ruffians.

He was the first to appear at the landing. Several voices repeated the cry to hang the colonel. At that moment a shot was heard, and the first ruffian came tumbling down the steps. The next instant the one behind him shared his fate, and both of them lay motionless at the foot of the stairs.

A moment later Deck rushed in through the open door, followed by the three riflemen.



CHAPTER XXIX

A NEW METHOD OF OPERATIONS

The fall of the two ruffians evidently created a panic among the robbers, for they all retreated from the head of the staircase. They could not see the person who had fired the shots. Fronklyn had used the heavy revolver of the trooper, reserving his carbine for more difficult practice. There was a pause, for no more victims were in sight.

"You are in a dangerous position, Lieutenant Lyon," said the sergeant, as soon as Deck rushed into the hall.

"Where are you, Sergeant?" asked the officer, as he retired from his exposed situation.

"Behind the safe," replied Fronklyn. "Ask one of the planter's sons if there are any other stairs from above."

"Another staircase at the rear of the hall," answered Warren.

"Go there quick!" said Deck, as soon as he had mastered the situation. "If any one attempts to come down, shoot him on the instant! But let them surrender if they will do so."

"Surrender!" exclaimed Harlan in disgust. "I don't feel exactly like letting one of the men that want to hang my father surrender."

"Let them surrender!" replied Deck very decidedly.

"From my position I could manage the whole of them," interposed the sergeant.

"You are in a safe place to do so," added the lieutenant.

"Some of the party ought to look out for the outside of the house, or the ruffians will escape from the windows," suggested the sergeant.

"Colonel Hickman is out-doors, with his negroes, to keep watch of the windows," answered Deck. "You have begun the fight here on the plan we adopted at Mr. Halliburn's."

"I was thinking of fighting it out alone when one of the ruffians up-stairs shouted that Colonel Hickman was coming; and the cry was to hang him. They started to come down, and I dropped two of them; the others ran away. I can dispose of them as fast as they show themselves," Fronklyn explained.

"Give them a chance to surrender before you kill them, Sergeant."

At that moment a shot was heard from the rear end of the hall, and the lieutenant hastened to ascertain the occasion of it. One of the ruffians had attempted to come down the back stairs, and Warren had put a rifle-ball through his head. There were only seven of the marauders left in the house, and the two parties were equalized.

"Up-stairs!" hailed Deck, when the third ruffian had fallen.

"What's wanted?" shouted some one who was prudent enough to keep out of sight.

"You may surrender if you prefer that to being shot," replied Deck.

"On what terms may we surrender?" demanded the spokesman of the second floor.

"No terms."

"Do you mean to murder us all?"

"It would serve you right. You came here to hang Colonel Hickman, and you would have done so if he had not found friends to assist him in defending his property and his life," added the lieutenant with proper indignation.

"We did not intend to hang him if he gave up his money. He is a rich man, and he could afford to part with some of it," said the spokesman.

"That is the argument of pirates and robbers. If you wish to surrender, say so; and do it quick!"

"We have nothing more to say," returned the spokesman.

For an hour longer the situation remained the same. But it required only Fronklyn at the main staircase, and Warren at the rear one, to keep the seven ruffians where they were. The villains were all armed, the planter said; and the lieutenant was not willing to sacrifice the life of even a single member of the loyal party. But the sergeant was impatient to terminate the affair. Deck had seated himself in the parlor in the midst of the broken furniture, where he could talk with the sergeant.

"This is becoming rather monotonous," said the latter.

"I don't think it is prudent to go up and attack the ruffians," replied Deck.

"But I think that something can be done from the outside," suggested Fronklyn.

"What?" asked Deck.

"I don't know."

"I will go out and see if anything can be done. I should like to return to the camp of the Riverlawns; for I suppose my father and the others still believe that you and I were killed in the fight at the intrenchments," replied Deck, as he passed out of the house at the front door.

He found Colonel Hickman on the end piazza of the mansion, seated in one of the armchairs. But he was astonished to see the display of arms near him; and he concluded that the weapons the planter kept in his spring-house had been brought up by the negroes to the piazza. At least a dozen rifles were standing against the side of the house, and a box of revolvers was near them. On each side of the colonel was a brass field-piece, with several boxes which he supposed contained ammunition for them.

"You seem to be ready for battle, Colonel Hickman," said Deck, as he surveyed the armament.

"I am ready; and I expect to have a use for these rifles and field-pieces before night," replied the planter.

"To-day?" queried Deck.

"I expected three times as many as came this morning; but I suppose the rest of them have cleaned out some other mansion. The ruffians in the house promised to come with thirty men when they were here before. If all the white men belonging on the plantation had not been absent, we should never have let this lot of infernals come near the place."

"But I think we had better get rid of the lot here now before we entertain another horde of them," suggested the lieutenant.

"The sergeant appears to have locked up the ruffians in the second story as though he meant to keep them there the rest of their natural lives," replied the planter. "We have not yet lost a single one of our number."

"It is the policy of war to save your own men while you destroy the enemy," added Deck. "The next thing to be done is to drive the ruffians out of the house."

"That seems to be easier said than done," replied the colonel, with an inquiring look at the young officer. "How do you propose to do it?"

"I don't know that it can be done; but there is nothing like trying. I suppose you are still a rifleman, Colonel Hickman?"

"I am, as I have been since I was a dozen years old. I have my old rifle here," he answered, pointing to the dozen of them resting against the side of the house. "I judge that you have some plan in your busy young head, Lieutenant. I am ready to obey all your orders, without regard to my age."

Deck stated his plan, which he had arranged after a survey of the surroundings of the mansion. It involved a change of position among the men, the most important of which was placing the planter behind the safe in the hall, thus releasing Fronklyn for more active duty. The colonel was willing, and even glad, to take the position assigned to him, and, like a good soldier, asked no questions.

"But what about the attack you expect this afternoon?" asked Deck.

"I have put my servants on picket, as they have been for several days. They are all mounted, just as they came back from the avenue. They are all faithful to me, though I don't expect them to do any fighting; but they can keep watch as well as white men."

"Then, if you are ready, Colonel, we will go to the front hall of the house," said the lieutenant, as he led the way.

At the door he called the sergeant from behind his breastwork, and put the planter in his place. The old soldier had hardly shown himself in the hall before a shot was fired down the stairway. Doubtless one or more of the ruffians had been on the lookout for the appearance of a man in the hall below; and as the planter passed behind the open door, the opportunity had been used.

Fortunately the venerable planter was not hit; for the enemy had only such old flint-lock guns as General Crittenden describes in his report of the battle of Mill Springs, and they were far from being reliable weapons. The bullet shattered the edge of the door, and no other damage was done. The veteran proved that he was still an active man; for as soon as he was behind the steel fortress, he cast a searching glance up the stairs.

On the landing he discovered a head on the floor; for the man who had fired the shot was lying where he could see down into the hall. It would have been better for him if his feet had been where his head was; for the planter raised his rifle, and fired at almost the same instant. His companions drew his body back without exposing themselves to the deadly fire from the hall.

"Flickens is killed!" exclaimed one of them; and the enemy were one less in number.

The planter, with his rifle in position for instant use, fixed his gaze upon the head of the staircase; but no one now was to be seen there. Deck and the sergeant had passed into the parlor, the door of which was next to the safe, after the colonel had discharged his rifle.

"Are you all right, sir?" asked the lieutenant, stopping in a safe place near the door of the apartment.

"I am better off than the fellow I just hit in the top of his head," replied the planter. "I wish another of them would try that experiment again."

"I know you can hold this position, and I will see what can be done elsewhere," returned Deck, as he moved towards the door of the rear room.

"You need not be concerned about me; I can finish the affair if the villains will only show themselves," replied the colonel; and his cheerful tones indicated that he was happy in his new position.

Deck and Fronklyn passed around into the rear of the hall, where they found Warren Hickman standing at the door of the dining-room, where he could not be seen from the head of the back stairs. He was informed that an attempt would be made to drive the enemy from the second story. He was to remain in his present position. The lieutenant and the sergeant passed out at the back door into the kitchen, some distance from the mansion. Here they found the other two sons of the planter, watching the windows on that side of the house.

The end of the cook-room extended back into a grove of trees which surrounded the mansion, and which had given Deck his first suggestion of his method of future operations. Taking the two Hickmans with them, the four went through a window into the grove. The building containing the kitchen concealed them from the view of the ruffians, if any of them went to the windows.

The trees around the mansion, like those in the avenue, were large, and the foliage dense. Deck explained to his companions his plan, and then directed one of them to proceed by the grove to each of the sides of the house, reserving the one by the stable for himself.

"What then?" inquired Fronklyn.

"Each of you will sling his rifle, and then climb a tree commanding all the windows on his side of the mansion," replied Deck. "When you see one of the enemy at a window, use your rifle. I shall be on the stable side."

The lieutenant, who had provided himself with a rifle on the piazza, followed the grove in the direction of the stable, outside of all the out-buildings, while the other three proceeded the opposite way. There were no trees between the mansion and the stable; but Deck made his way to the hayloft, which commanded a view of all the windows of the former. He waited long enough to enable his companions to secure their places in the trees, and then opened a window, which enabled him to obtain a safe position for himself.

While he was waiting, he took a couple of horse-blankets from the harness-room, and fastened them up before the only two windows in the loft. This made the place quite dark, though there was light enough to enable him to find his way. Then he kneeled about ten feet from the open window, darkened to within a foot of the bottom. From this point he discovered, by looking through the window directly opposite his opening, three men sitting on a bed.