In the Saddle

CHAPTER XXVIII

The night was unusually dark, for a heavy mass of black clouds had rolled up from the west, promising a smart shower. The Rangers had extinguished their fires at an early hour in the evening, for what reason the guards were unable to determine; but the fact was suspicious, and they redoubled their vigilance. The last that had been seen of the bemired troopers, they were building the causeway of hay to unite with the one of solid rocks and earth built by the farmer to obtain access to his hay-field.

This causeway was believed to be the only possible way to get on or off the meadow. Captain Gordon had made a survey of the locality in person, and had gone up the road as far as the house of the farmer, the only one in the vicinity. He had met the native in his walk, and had questioned him with all the skill he possessed in regard to the surroundings; for the fellow was not disposed to give any information. The only statement of any importance he could drag out of him was that the causeway was the only way by which the Texans could leave the meadow. The captain could see none himself, though he believed from his manner that the man was lying to him.

The place looked as though there had been an immense sink-hole there at some remote period in the past, which had been filled up by the wash from the hills around it. This flow had brought down quantities of dry leaves and other vegetable matter; and this, with the growth of rank grass and weeds decaying on the spot, had formed what is called a bog in Ireland, and a peat meadow in the Northern States.

There was fuel enough in it to supply a village for a hundred years; but wood was so plentiful in this region that it would not pay to cut, dry, and carry it to more solid ground. Whether the captain was satisfied or nor with his investigations, he could obtain no further information. The meadow seemed to be surrounded with rocky formations; though his knowledge of it, obtained in the darkness, was very imperfect. But he and his men had seen the troopers laying the causeway of hay to the one of earth, as though they believed this was the only avenue of escape.

The two sentinels extended their beat as far as the farmer's house. After nine o'clock in the evening its windows were dark, and the people within appeared to have retired. But the big dog of the native did not retire with the rest of the family, and he made a rude attack upon the guards every time they approached the house. About midnight he had assailed one of the men so furiously that he was obliged to defend himself with his sabre; and the brute was so badly wounded that nothing more was seen of him. His dead body was found the next morning near the house; and the farmer was as furious as the canine had been, though he had a proper respect for carbines and sabres.

When the guard was relieved after midnight, all was quiet on the meadow, and it was believed that the troopers had taken to their blankets. One of the sentinels declared that he could hear them snore; but this was doubtless a camp-fire exaggeration. They watched the causeway, as they had been instructed to do; and certainly none of the Texans came out that way. One of them proposed to explore the space between the by-road and the position of the troopers; but the other insisted that such an enterprise would result in certain death, for no doubt the enemy had sentinels whose carbines were loaded with ball cartridges.

So far as the guards could report, there was no change at the by-road during the night. The headquarters tent had been pitched, and Major Lyon had been up half the night studying his maps, and repeatedly reading the written orders he had received, as well as a mass of newspaper cuttings which had been sent with them. The latter were, for the most part, accounts of outrages committed by Confederate cavalry of companies of "Partisan Rangers," and of bands who were not provided with even the doubtful authority of the insurrectionary government.

Before daylight in the morning Major Lyon was on his feet; for he felt that he was loaded with a heavy responsibility. He was charged with the protection of the railroad bridges in the vicinity, though he was to be immediately relieved from this duty to enable him to assist with the more vigor in suppressing the guerillas and other predatory bands. Artie, now his orderly, slept in the tent with him, and he was sent to have "The Assembly of Buglers" sounded; and this is the call for the troopers to appear on the parade.

There was a commotion at the guard quarters; and before Artie had roused the bugler from his slumbers, he was called by the officer of the day. Was Major Lyon awake? He was, for he had called his orderly.

"Inform him at once that the sentinel from the by-road reports the disappearance of the enemy in the bog," said the officer.

As soon as he received the information, the major hastened to the guard tent, where the sentinel who had brought the news was detained. The trooper repeated his information to the commander. It was hardly light enough in the bog to see anything, but he and his mate had satisfied themselves that the Rangers had all disappeared; but of how or where they had made their escape he had no knowledge.

"Did you hear no noise of any kind?" asked the major.

"Nothing at all; it was as still as a tomb all the time I was on guard," replied the sentinel. "We were not sure they were gone till we walked out a piece on the meadow, and found the hay, of which they had made a road to solid ground; but it did not lead to the causeway."

"Where did it lead?" demanded the major.

"In the direction of the farmer's house; but we did not follow it, for it was decided that I should come up to the camp and report what we had found out."

"Who was with you, More?" asked the officer of the guard.

"Bunch; and he was to follow the hay-road after I left him," replied the sentinel.

Major Lyon was very prompt in deciding upon his action, and the first company was soon in line, and ready to march. Deck belonged in one of its ranks, and Artie was in close attendance upon the commander. As the former had conducted the detachment "across lots" the afternoon before, the major sent for him; and the two young soldiers rode side by side behind their father, who had Captain Gordon at his side.

"It seems that we are to have a long tramp of it after this; and we are not likely to be at home Christmas or Thanksgiving this year," said Artie, as the column descended the hill to the by-road.

"Wherever we may be, it looks like a lively time ahead; for things seem to be very much mixed in the State," replied Deck.

"How do you suppose the Texans got out of the mud-hole, Deck?"

"I don't know; but I have no doubt the farmer who lives near it and owns the farm helped them out of it. He is a surly fellow, and I saw that he was a Secessionist when I met him."

"What do these two darkies want?" asked Artie, pointing to a couple of colored men, who were running down the hill from the northward as though their very lives depended upon their speed.

"Probably they are messengers who have come from the vicinity of the bridge by the same route I did," replied Deck, as he noticed that one of them was flourishing what looked like a letter in the air.

The two men reached the brook before the column turned in at the by-road, and had a chance to catch their breath before the officers came up to them. They had probably seen the column come out from the camp, and had hurried to intercept it before it turned into the highway they saw ahead; and it was probable that they were familiar with the locality.

"W'ich o' you uns is Mars'r Major Lyon?" asked the man with the letter of the first one he met, who happened to be Deck.

"The one with the plume in his hat," replied the private. "Where do you come from, Cæsar?"

"From de souf road; more'n a t'ousand so'diers dar. De man wid de feder in his hat," replied the negro, as he rushed forward to the major and delivered his letter, with a jumbled speech, of which the recipient took no notice.

Major Lyon drew up his horse at the side of the brook, his sons remaining with him, while the column continued on the march. He tore open the envelope, and read the epistle written with a pencil.

"Be'n a-lookin' fo' you all night, Mars'r," said the bearer. "De gin'ral done gib me de letter 'fo' dark, an done tell me to find you. Done tramp seben miles on de roleraid; but we done couldn't found you."

"Where did you sleep?" asked the major, who was evidently pleased with the information contained in the letter.

"In a swotch-house," replied the messenger, who was very much confused, and his small stock of English was badly mixed. "In a swotch-house on de roleraid."

"He means a switch-house," laughed Deck, who could not see why the fellow upset his words so badly.

The major read the missive a second time, and then took a sort of portfolio from his pocket, and hastily wrote a reply to it, which he folded and pinned together in the absence of an envelope.

"How did you find us this morning?" asked the major.

"We done find de hoss-tracks an' de wagon-tracks, an' we follers dem."

"Here's a dollar for your service; but don't spend it for apple-jack, my boy," said the major, as he handed a couple of half-dollars to the messengers. "You may go to the camp yonder, and get something to eat, if you like, before you return."

The men were grateful; and the one who received the money gave half of it to his companion. The major and his orderlies hurried forward, and found that Captain Gordon had halted the company at the causeway, where the inquiry must begin.

"The Home Guards arrived at the bridge last night, and the captain of the company reports to me as directed. I have written out what information I have to give him, and you will send a couple of your men to deliver the paper."

Two troopers were despatched at once as the bearers of the order. It was possible that the men might encounter some of the Rangers who had escaped from the other side of the meadow; and they were cautioned by the major to be on the lookout for them, and to return as soon as possible. They departed at a gallop, which promised a speedy return.

"One thing is plain enough: the Texans did not come out of the mire by this causeway," said the major, as he turned his attention to the question under consideration.

"The sentinels were here all night," replied Captain Gordon.

"But we can easily discover where they did escape," added the commander as he dismounted, indicating that he intended to conduct the inquiry personally; and Deck and Artie followed his example. "Detail ten men to go with us, dismounted, and you will go with us, Captain."

Deck and Artie were directed to go ahead as guides. They descended the causeway, and came to the sod that covered and concealed the mud beneath. The turf was strong enough to support men on foot, as had been seen the afternoon before in the movements of the Rangers. But the hoofs of the horses cut through it, and they were mired as soon as they advanced, though some of them wallowed a considerable distance before they gave up the struggle.

The meadow was nearly round in form, and about half a mile in diameter. The orderlies, as both of them soon came to be called, advanced safely, though they were compelled to avoid the places where the Texans' horses had cut up the sod and brought the mud to the surface. The material of the hay causeway, which had at first been extended in the direction of the solid one, had been removed; but leading from the brook, towards a point above the farmer's house, they saw the one that must have been used by the Rangers.

The two haystacks seen the day before had been entirely removed, and the road built of it was about a foot deep of hay. The officers and the ten men followed the guides; and the hay causeway conducted them to an inclined plane built of old boards and planks, which the party mounted, and came to a field near the road. The mysterious disappearance of the Texans was fully explained.

CHAPTER XXIX

"But he did not hear them snore; that was absurd," replied the captain. "If they had been snoring, he could not have heard them; for they were at work too far from him. If he heard anything, it must have been the bubbling of the brook; but probably it was all in his imagination. But what is the point in regard to the snoring, Major Lyon?"

"If the Rangers worked all night, and did not get any sleep, they are too tired and sleepy this morning to make a long march," replied the commander.

"Then you think they have camped at some place not far from us?" asked the captain.

"I only think it is possible they have done so. Captain Dingfield appeared to be badly wounded, from all reports; and I doubt if there is as much strategy in his brain to-day as he had yesterday. I shall not make a business of pursuing him."

"It would be a good thing for this part of the State if he could be cleaned out entirely, bagged, and his company sent to Louisville as prisoners," suggested Captain Gordon.

"No doubt of it; but it would be hardly consistent with the orders I have just received for me to delay in this section to carry out your idea. We are more needed elsewhere than here."

"Then we are to march on a sort of roving commission to the eastward, where the Confederates are breaking through from Tennessee, it appears."

"It amounts to that, though my orders are very explicit," replied the major, as he led the way back to the narrow pass where the company had been halted. "The situation here is not so bad as it was. We have saved the bridge; and the Home Guards which arrived there last night are described as consisting of good men, who will be mustered into a Kentucky regiment as soon as circumstances permit; and Captain Woodward, who commands it, is an old soldier, and likely to be made a colonel."

"Then the bridge will be safe."

"It can be better defended by infantry than by cavalry alone; both would do better than either. Captain Dingfield and his bridge-burners have been sent to the north, and I have no doubt he intends to join them there. To follow him would keep me some days, if not a week, from the more pressing duty assigned to me," reasoned the commander.

"I understand it better now," added the captain.

"I have been informed that troops have been sent to the vicinity of Munfordville, in Hart County, where the railroad bridge has been partly destroyed, though a temporary structure has been built to replace it. I think Dingfield means to go there, and complete the work others failed to finish."

"I hope we shall find the guerillas, or whatever they are; and I believe our boys will soon make an end of them," said the captain with enthusiasm. "Your orders permit you to go where you please, Major."

"They do; for it was not possible for those charged with the protection of the State to inform me definitely where the guerillas were to be found, as they are continually changing their locality, though I have some papers to aid me. I am not a little surprised at the confidence placed in me by my superiors, who send me on a mission with no definite instructions."

"All the details of the fights at Riverlawn and its vicinity are known to them; for I have taken care that they should not be ignorant in regard to you."

"But I have just become a soldier," added the major modestly.

"Then it runs in the blood, and it has got as far down as Deck," said Captain Gordon, laughing, as they came to the company.

The party mounted, and rode back at a gallop to the camp. The cooks of the company had prepared an unusually good breakfast, which was disposed of with a relish, stimulated by three days' feeding from the haversacks of the troopers. As soon as it was finished, the order was given to "break camp;" and, as it had been hardly more than a bivouac, the work was speedily accomplished, and the two companies were soon in line.

While these preparations were in progress, the major was studying his county map. What little baggage had been taken from the wagons was soon loaded again. There was little for the officers to do, after the orders had been given.

"We are about ready to march," said Captain Gordon, approaching the commander, who had seated himself on a log near the road.

"I am all ready," replied the major, as he glanced at Artie, who was holding his horse near him. "Of course Dingfield followed this by-road, which will take him to another by which he can reach Munfordville, if he is going there. We will take the same road; and if the Rangers are resting themselves in camp after the fatigues of the day and night, we may have a chance to pay our respects to them."

"I should like one more slap at them; for they ran away so rapidly that I did not get a fair hit at them," added the captain.

"But they are brave men, and we outnumber them two to one. Truman says they fought like tigers on the east road."

"That is true, and that is the reason I should like to meet them again; for I believe there is not a braver or more reliable body of men in the Union army than the Riverlawn Cavalry; and I am not a Kentuckian either."

"Neither am I by birth, though I am by adoption; and I am precisely of your opinion in regard to our men," added the major as he mounted his horse; and his orderlies did the same.

Deck was at home again in the saddle; for Ceph had come to the camp with the second company. After the prisoners at the bridge had been disposed of, the wounded had been cared for by sending them in one of the captured wagons to Riverlawn, consigned to the care of Levi Bedford; for a hospital had been established there for the wounded in the battles with the ruffians.

The column moved down the road, and turned into that which the Rangers had used in their escape. As the right of the line approached the house of the farmer, that worthy presented himself before the officers; and he appeared to be mad enough to swallow half-a-dozen Yankees. Possibly he thought the squadron had started in pursuit of the Texans.

"I want to know who's ter pay me for that dog o' mine some o' you uns killed last night," he broke out, walking along by the side of the major and Captain Gordon. "That critter was wuth a hund'ed dollars, and that's what I want you uns to pay me before you go any furder."

"Are you a loyal citizen of the United States?" asked Major Lyon.

"I'm nothin' o' that sort!" replied the native, who began to heap curses and maledictions on the government. "The' ain't no United States! She's done busted all to pieces!"

The major made no reply, and had not even stopped his horse. The fellow followed him; but he took no further notice of the irate Secessionist, rather to the amusement of Captain Gordon and others within hearing. But the farmer was soon tired of addressing one who treated him with silent contempt, and seated himself on a stump to observe the procession.

Two skilful scouts, one of whom was Life Knox, had already been sent forward to search for any indications of the camp of the Texans. The squadron soon reached another road running through a valley. The major had learned from his map that it connected with the east road in one direction, and the hill-road in the other.

The column halted to wait for the return of the scouts. Knox and his companion soon appeared, and reported that he had followed this road to its junction with the hill-road, without seeing anything of the enemy.

"They ain't within ten miles of here," added the Kentuckian. "I got so I know the tracks o' them Texas hosses, and I follered 'em five miles. They don't want nothin' more o' the Riverlawn Cavalry."

This information settled the point so far as the Rangers were concerned, and nothing was seen of them, though they appeared in some skirmishes farther north. The Indian craft of Knox had proved to be very useful, and he was a great favorite with both officers and men. The march was resumed; but the events of the next two days on the road are not of interest enough to be reported. At the end of this time the squadron were in the territory described in the orders of the commander, and active work was expected.

Just before sunset the battalion halted on the outskirts of a small village, and went into camp there. The American flag was hoisted on a pole planted for the purpose, in order that the inhabitants of the vicinity might make no mistake in regard to the character of the force. Not only the negroes and loungers to be found in every village flocked to the camp, but some of the influential citizens appeared on the ground. The guard kept them outside of the lines. A person on horse-back, who had the air and manner of the genuine Kentucky gentleman, attracted the attention of Major Lyon, who was desirous of obtaining information on the spot in regard to the sentiments of the people.

"Who is the gentleman on horse-back?" he asked of a well-dressed negro, who looked like an intelligent man; for the commander suspected that he was a Secessionist, though he had no reason for supposing that he was such.

"That is Colonel Coffee, sir, the biggest man in these parts," replied the colored man.

"How does he stand on the war question? Do you happen to know?" continued the major.

"Yes, sir," replied the man with a smile; "everybody within twenty miles of this village knows which side Colonel Coffee is on, sir."

"Well, which side is he on?" demanded the commander, who saw that the gentleman was approaching him.

"He's a Union man all over and all through; and the people are trying to get up a Home Guard to protect his place—that's the one you see on the side of the hill. We expect the gorillas down here."

"You have named them well, my friend," added the major with a laugh. "Do you know where there are any of them?"

"No, sir; they are like flies, and don't make nests anywhere. I reckon Colonel Coffee wants to speak to you, sir; for I suppose you are an officer of this company," added the man, who retired at the approach of the great man of the locality.

The magnate of the county rode up to the major, and saluted him with courtly grace; and though the latter was not brought up in a drawing-room, he was as polite as the occasion required.

"I am exceedingly happy to see that flag hoisted over a body of military in this county," said the colonel, with a cheerful smile, as he pointed with his riding-whip at the emblem of the Union.

"I am very glad to be where there are those who appreciate the flag," added the major.

"I am only sorry that you will find so few of them in this neighborhood," returned the dignified Kentuckian. "We are threatened by roving bands of plunderers to the east and south of us, and for the last week I have expected to walk away from my place by the light of my burning house. I live in that one on the side of the hill."

"I hope we shall be able to put an end to this state of affairs at once, Colonel Coffee," replied the major.

"You know my name," said the magnate with a smile.

"I asked it of that negro."

"He is the village barber, and a very intelligent man. May I ask whom I have the honor to address?" inquired the colonel.

"Major Lyon, in command of a squadron of United States cavalry," replied the officer.

"I am very glad to see you, Major, personally, and especially to see you at Greeltop; for we are greatly in need of efficient protection," returned the colonel. "I have heard all about you before."

"I am equally happy to meet you, Colonel Coffee; for I am at present in urgent need of full information in regard to the condition of affairs in this section."

"I shall be pleased to have you dine with me, and we can talk over matters at our leisure in my library."

Major Lyon excused himself from the dinner, and invited the colonel to his tent, which had been set up by this time.

CHAPTER XXX

"We have tried to form a Home Guard here for the protection of the village, and we have a little band of about twenty men; but most of our young and middle-aged men have left the place to enlist in the loyal army, so that we have not much stock of which to form a company. But our little band keep a picket of five or ten of their number in the outskirts of the village, to warn us of the approach of an enemy."

"We shall soon relieve them of that duty."

"Our men are not soldiers, for they have had no training; but they are made up of fighting material. Though I am sixty-five years old, I belong to the company; and I have just returned from patrolling the region to the eastward of us."

While he listened to the visitor, Major Lyon had spread out his map, which included the locality; and with the assistance of the colonel he obtained a clear idea of the surface of the country, the first requisite for a military commander. While they were still busy over the map, the sentinel at the entrance to the tent drew aside the curtain, and saluted the commander.

"A messenger in a great hurry to see Colonel Coffee," said he.

"Admit him," replied the major promptly.

A gentleman dressed in a black coat with a standing collar to it, encircled with a belt, in which was secured a pair of navy revolvers, entered the tent, out of breath with excitement of running.

"The Rev. Mr. Elbroon, Major Lyon, one of our Home Guard," said the colonel as soon as the clergyman appeared at the entrance.

There was nothing clerical in his appearance except the standing collar of his coat; and the revolvers especially belied his profession.

"The Lord be praised for his great mercy!" exclaimed the minister, as soon as he could get breath for utterance.

"What is the matter, Joseph?" asked the magnate of Greeltop very familiarly.

"The guerillas are coming!" exclaimed the reverend gentleman.

"Where are they?" asked the colonel, as coolly as though he had been in command of a regiment for years.

"They are coming down by the mountain road back of your mansion!" gasped Mr. Elbroon, who was evidently very much alarmed, and could hardly speak in his fatigue and excitement.

"Sentinel!" called the major sharply.

The man appeared at once.

"Where is Captain Gordon?"

"He is close by, Major."

"Ask him to come to my tent."

"Sit down, Joseph," said the colonel, giving his stool to his friend and his fellow-soldier, it appeared. "You don't gain anything by blowing yourself out."

"But this is no time to sit down," replied the excited minister, though he took the proffered seat.

Captain Gordon appeared immediately.

"A raid of guerillas on the place, Captain! Have the first company ready to march in three minutes!" said the commander in hurried tones.

The captain retired in haste, without asking any questions; and a moment later the bugles were heard sounding the assembly. The major buckled on his sword, and sent out an order for his horse.

"Thank the good Lord that the military have come at last!" exclaimed Mr. Elbroon, as he crossed his arms on his breast, and looked up to heaven in earnest prayer. "But we are wasting time, Colonel; and I am afraid we shall see your beautiful mansion in flames before we can get there."

"If we do, it will go up in a good cause," replied the magnate, with a smile on his dignified face. "I can afford to lose it better than some of the poor people of the village could their houses. But cool off, Joseph; you are still all in a flutter."

"I will try to do so," replied the clerical soldier, "I saw them coming when I was on the top of the mountain. I hurried my poor horse till he broke down under me; and I had to run on foot the rest of the way."

"Rest yourself, Joseph. If you saw the guerillas from the top of the mountain, there is no hurry; for they will not reach my house this half-hour," added the colonel.

"You shall have another horse, my reverend friend," interposed the commander, as he ordered the sentinel to send for a spare steed.

"Now, Joseph, where were the guerillas when you saw them?" inquired the magnate.

"They were on the Cliff Road, just coming around the bend."

"That is four miles from my house, and five from here," continued the colonel.

"But I have been a long time coming here," suggested Mr. Elbroon.

"Excuse me, Colonel Coffee; I should like a little more definite information in regard to the road by which these guerillas will approach the village," interposed the commander.

"I don't think they will approach the village at all, Major Lyon. I have not the remotest doubt that my mansion is their objective point; and they will first plunder that."

"We will take care that they don't do anything of the sort. Have you any idea how many there were in the company you saw, Mr. Elbroon?"

"I could see them marching along under the cliff; I should say there were not less than fifty of them," replied the clergyman. "I did not wait to count them, but hurried to the village, where I inquired of everybody for Colonel Coffee. The barber told me he was here."

"Company formed," reported the sentinel at the door.

"We are ready now, gentlemen," said the major, as he passed out of the tent, followed by the others.

"The spare horse ordered, Major," said the sentinel, as he led him up.

The clerical gentleman was invited to mount this animal, which had been ridden by one of the men killed; and the colonel mounted his own steed. The commander took his horse, which was led by Deck, while Artie had brought up the spare steed. The animal was a higher-spirited beast than the parson had been in the habit of riding, and Artie had to take him by the head to prevent him from running away; for he was one of the colts of the Riverlawn planter's stock.

"My orderlies will ride with me," said the major; "I may want them. Captain Truman, you will have the second company in marching order, in case I send for them, though I don't know what this affair will amount to; and you will leave a guard at the camp if you are called away."

The order was given to Captain Gordon to march. The commander led the column at full gallop, with the colonel at his side, and the orderlies in the rear of them. In less than a minute they came to a road turning off at the left, leading in the direction of the magnate's mansion. It was situated on the side of a hill, and near the top of it. The elevation was elliptical in form, and the loftiest part was not more than sixty feet high, at the summit of which was a Chinese pagoda, painted in gaudy colors.

There was a valley behind it; for the major could see the tops of some tall trees, whose roots must be far below the top of the elliptical hill. Beyond it were what the colonel called the mountains, though probably not one of them was more than five hundred feet high. The column followed the road into which it had turned till it came to another; and here the major ordered the captain to halt his company.

"Here is another road, Colonel Coffee; and it passes behind the hill which you call Greeltop," said the commander.

"Precisely so," replied the magnate, who thought the major had acquired a very good knowledge of the locality when he had been there hardly more than an hour.

"Captain Gordon, you will go that way with half your company, and Lieutenant Gilder will follow me," said Major Lyon. "The road through the valley unites with the one from the mountains, by which the guerillas must approach the village. You will move cautiously as you come near this road, and halt there till you hear firing on your right."

"You can hardly call it a road through the valley, though the captain can get through without any difficulty," interposed the magnate. "It is all a grove, but the ground has been cleared off."

"Dexter, you will call Knox, and scout the road ahead of us. Don't let the enemy see you, and obey the orders of the sergeant," continued the major, as the first platoon rode off.

Life Knox was called from his place in the ranks, and the order of the commander given to him. It was the kind of duty the sergeant liked; for he was more at home there than in following military forms; though he was a faithful and obedient soldier, and his captain wished he had a hundred more like him.

"Here we go again, Deck," said the sergeant, as they galloped up the road, by the entrance to Colonel Coffee's estate. "Your pa does well to send me along with you this time, and not leave you alone as he did on that bridge."

"But I can take care of myself, and I did that time; for I came back like a bad penny," replied Deck.

"You managed fust-rate, my boy; and if you live to be as old as the white-haired owner of this place, you will be a brigadier-general; and I hope I shall be an orderly sergeant under you."

"You are a good deal more likely to become a brigadier-general than I am, though I may get to be a corporal some time. You may be major-general; for you understand war much better than most of us."

"That can't never be, Deck. I hain't got the eddication to be anything more than a non-commissioned officer," said Knox, shaking his head, and hurrying on his horse.

"It wouldn't be just the thing for a brigadier-general to say 'eddication,'" replied Deck.

"What would you call it? I didn't pay much attention to my eddication when I was a young cub, and have been sorry for it ever sence. What do you call it, Deck?"

"Ed-u-ca-tion."

"But I can't say it like that."

"Yes, you can. You have a brother named Edward, and you call him Ed when you speak of him. Now say this, Life, 'Ed, you can.'"

"'Ed, you can.'"

"Good! Now say, 'Ed, you, Kate,'" which was the name he had given the mare he rode.

"'Ed, you, Kate.'"

"Exactly; and it is just as easy to say 'educate' as 'eddicate.' Try it."

He did it as well as though he had been to college.

"You will be a brigadier-general if you keep on; for you know more now than half of them who pronounce their words correctly," added Deck, reining in his horse as they came to another road. "This is the one we are to follow, I think."

"I reckon 'tis; and we won't edicate—ed-u-cate—no more jest now."

"I don't see anything of any guerillas yet."

"They hain't got along," replied Knox, as he reined in his horse and looked about him.

There was something peculiar about the place which attracted the attention of the Kentuckian. The road passed through a round open space. On one side was a broad gateway that led by a winding driveway to the front door of the colonel's mansion.

"This would be a nice place to meet them gorillas," said Knox, as he looked about him. "Now get in there, Deck," and he pointed to the open gateway, and led his mate into it. "You hold Kate while I look inter this thing afoot;" and he slid from his horse to the ground.

He followed the road, concealing himself as much as possible in the shadow of the trees.

CHAPTER XXXI

It was nearly dark, and Knox thought it was time for the enemy to appear, if they intended to accomplish anything that day; but it occurred to the Kentuckian that they "chose darkness because their deeds were evil." He could neither see nor hear anything that indicated the approach of mounted men. He walked up the gentle declivity of the mountain road, and found a country better adapted to his work than nearer the village. He found one of the knolls which abound in this region, and he cut his way through the brambles and bushes to the top of it; for he saw that it commanded a view of what was called the Cliff Road, though he did not know it by this name.

The marauders had passed the cliffs, and had halted on a little hill in the road, evidently to make their final preparations for the assault upon the village. He counted twenty-eight mounted men,—for the guerillas were not more than a hundred yards from him,—and there was a considerable number of men on foot, among whom the scout noted two or three negroes. He looked upon them with interest, and had an excellent opportunity to observe them. The mounted men seemed to be engaged in a discussion which became warm, judging from the gestures of some of those engaged in it.

Knox made up his mind that these ruffians were not regular troops, though they might be one of the "Partisan" bands, of which he had heard something from Deck. The men on foot appeared to be vagabonds and "bummers," eager to share in the spoils of the expedition. The colonel and the clergyman were perfectly confident that the mansion of the former was the objective point of the Partisans. They knew it would be rich in plunder, which was doubtless the sole purpose of the marauders; for they could do nothing in this manner to advance the cause of the Confederate States.

Knox had a distinct method of treating the present problem; and though he commanded nothing, he thought he could bring it about. If he had been in communication with one of the principal officers of the squadron, he would have stated his plan to him. He had observed a portion of the ground not seen by the others, and could easily divine the intended movements of the commander of the guerillas, if there was any such personage among them. They had begun to move; and Life thought it was time for him to do the same. He descended the knoll, and took a position by the side of the mountain road, in a clump of bushes.

He had hardly taken a favorable place to observe the approach of the brigands, when he discovered a couple of men approaching from the town, mounted and armed. They were hard-looking ruffians, and the sergeant did not like the appearance of them. He had but a moment to consider, and he did his thinking on the double-quick. The guerillas could not be aware that a squadron of United States cavalry had just arrived at Greeltop. If they had known this fact they would not have come; and if informed of it now, they would take to their heels, and make the dust fly till they reached a safe retreat.

The two mounted men coming from the village looked ugly and reckless enough to be brigands; and Life promptly concluded that they had heard of the approach of the marauders, and were going out to warn them of the presence of the troops in the place. Each of them carried an old flintlock gun, which might have seen service in the time of Daniel Boone, and had a package strapped on behind his saddle. Possibly they belonged to the band of mounted men, and were going out to join them with the important news they had obtained.

"Where are you uns bound?" demanded Knox, breaking out of his covert, and planting himself in the road in front of them.

The Kentuckian was as prudent as he was brave; but if these brigands were permitted to proceed, the business of the Riverlawn Cavalry would be ended in this immediate locality for the present. The enemy before him were two to his one; but he did not appear to take this fact into consideration.

"Who are you?" shouted the foremost of the pair in a ferocious tone, as though he expected to frighten the stalwart inquirer, and with a volley of oaths which startled the Kentuckian, who, maugre his varied experience, was a high-toned man morally, and never used any profane expletives.

"I am in command of this road jest now; and no one, not even Gov'nor McGoffin hisself, could pass out the way you uns is go'n'," replied Life.

"I reckon we uns is gwine out," replied the spokesman of the pair.

"I reckon not," added the sergeant, as he seized the bridle of the fellow's Rosinante, whisked him around, pointing him to the village, and giving him a slap to set him going.

If the brigand had any bad blood in his veins, this decided action was sufficient to make it boil; and he brought up his old flintlock, and began to point it at the "commander of that road just then," and would no doubt have put some of the contents of the rusty barrel through his head or chest, if Life had waited for him to do so. He did not; and he did not even take the trouble to unsling the loaded carbine at his back, but, reaching up, seized the brigand by the throat, and dragged him from his horse, planting him very solidly on the ground.

The ruffian seemed to be as powerless as an infant in his grasp. Knox then snatched the gun from his hands; but the man, clinging to it, came up with it. The sergeant shook him off as he would a fly, and he fell all in a heap on the ground again. Life tossed the weapon over the fence into the bushes. The brigand sprang to his feet, and with a long knife in his hand rushed upon his herculean assailant.

Knox bestowed a blow on the arm with the blade at the end of it, which was heavy enough to break the bone; and the weapon dropped in the road. Then he seized the brigand by the throat again, and batted him over the head with his iron fist, causing him to drop limp and senseless on the ground. The other ruffian, who did not seem to be so desperate a character, looked as though he were paralyzed by the vigorous treatment of his companion; but he had by this time recovered enough of his self-possession to think of his own safety; and he attempted to run by the Kentuckian, in the direction of the guerillas.

"You're go'n' the wrong way, Chopsticks," said Life, seizing the bridle of the horse, and bringing him up with a shock which nearly unseated the rider. "You're bound for the village, and that's the way your go'n'," continued Knox, as he unslung his carbine, standing in front of the horse.

"I want to go the other way; and I reckon you'll git hung to one o' these big trees for what you've jest did," said the second ruffian.

"I ain't go'n' to hang jest yet; and you're go'n' back to the village whether you want to or not," replied Knox. "If you move without leave from the commander of this road, a ball from his carbine will worry its way through that head o' yourn."