Part 6 (1/2)

”I won't leave you, mother dear,” he returned tenderly, and picked her up despite her protests. He was soon following Artie to the fort, with Dorcas running by his side, while Levi remained behind to take command of the slaves and cover the retreat. From around the back of the meadow came those left by the major at the barn, thinking a regular attack on the mansion had been made.

Mrs. Noah Lyon was no light load, and when Deck gained the shelter of the fort he was ready to drop with his burden. Finding the most comfortable seat the place afforded, he deposited his precious load upon it and fanned her with his soldier cap. Hope was just reviving and was soon able to take care of herself.

”Oh, how thankful I am we have escaped from those ruffians!” cried Dorcas, almost ready to cry in her excitement. Then she knelt down in front of her aunt--that aunt who had for years been a mother to her.

Hope joined the group, and tears flowed down every feminine cheek.

”Keep watch here, Artie!” called out Deck, when he saw that all was well for the time being, and as the young captain nodded, the major leaped out into the open once more. The battle between those in the mansion and those on the edge of the lawn was waxing hot, and he felt that he was needed.

A great load was lifted from his mind, now he knew his mother and the girls were safe, and he felt that he could endure almost anything.

Taking a short cut by leaping over a ditch some ten feet wide, he came up in front of Carson Lee and the others from the barn. Lee had already been firing, at long range, and the man subject to fits declared he had dropped one guerilla stationed at an attic window.

”It is best that we divide our forces,” said Deck. ”Levi can take care of those under him. We will take the opposite side of the house. There are two magnolias over there--just the spot for such a sharpshooter as you, Lee.”

”Co-rect, lead on and I'll follow,” answered Carson Lee, with a grin, for nothing pleased him more than to have his marksmans.h.i.+p praised. Soon the entire party was making another detour, while Levi's men fell back gradually to a safe position in a dry trench near the centre of the meadow--a trench begun in the spring but never connected with the creek.

When the major's party reached the magnolias, Lee and another of the farmers climbed into the branches, taking care, however, to keep the main trunks of the trees between themselves and the mansion. The others collected underneath, also, on the sheltered sides.

”Levi and the n.i.g.g.e.rs have fallen back to a ditch in the meadow,”

announced Lee, a minute later. ”All the guerillas have gone into the house.”

”An' there ain't a head to be seen at the winders,” finished Dowleigh, the other man in the tree. ”Reckon they have gone in fer a parley among themselves.”

”We have them where the hair is good and long now,” said Deck, smiling.

”Not one of them can leave the house without being seen.”

”How about to-night, Major?” laughed Bowman.

”As soon as it gets dark we can draw closer, and throw a guard completely around the place. But I imagine we'll hear from them before that--now the ladies have escaped.”

”How so?” asked Bowman, with interest.

”As long as they held the ladies they thought they could make terms when they pleased. Now, the case is different, and, in my opinion, they will try to make terms before we have a chance to send for aid with which to wipe them out, as the saying goes.”

”Don't ye make no terms,” burst in Carson Lee. ”They don't deserve 'em.”

”We'll see what they have to say, if they do come out,” concluded the major.

The best part of half an hour pa.s.sed, and during that time everybody placed his weapon in proper fighting trim again. Lee took one shot at a face which appeared at a bedroom window and received a shot in return, but neither took effect. Evidently the guerillas were on the alert.

”I told you so!” Deck felt like saying, when the side door of the mansion opened and a man waved a white towel toward them. But the major remained silent, and the man advanced cautiously to the edge of the veranda. Then the young commander waved his handkerchief in return, and marched up the lawn to interview the ruffian with the flag of truce.

The fellow was an ugly looking customer, over six feet tall, thin, and with a face horribly pox-marked. He came swaggering up to within five yards of Deck and halted.

”Say, don't yer think this game has been played long enough?” he grunted rather than asked.

”Entirely too long,” answered Deck, briefly. He had not yet forgotten the manner in which he had been addressed at the barn.