AN UNEXPLAINED GATHERING ON THE ROAD
The ruffians were a mere mob, entirely devoid of any semblance of
discipline; and it was again made manifest that they could not stand up
against a continuous fire such as the mounted boys and those on foot
were beginning to pour into them, scattered though it was at first by
the restiveness of the untrained horses. Titus Lyon was not a military
man, and he did not appear to appreciate the advantage of order in the
handling of his force.
It is true that the negroes that confronted him were not organized to
any adequate extent for military purposes, though the little training
Colonel Belthorpe had given them on the bridge had been of very great
service to them. It was absolutely astonishing to the commander that the
boys did not drop their weapons and run when the random shots from the
enemy were discharged at them; for this idea was in accordance with his
estimate of negro character.
It was a new revelation to him, the manner in which the men conducted
themselves under fire, hurried as they had been, without any training,
into the ranks; and the same number of white men of average ability
could hardly have done better under similar circumstances. But the negro
was strong in his affections, and the feeling that they were fighting
for the family who had used them kindly, and treated them with more
consideration than they had been in the habit of receiving, even under
the mild sway of Colonel Lyon, was the stimulus that strengthened their
souls and nerved their arms.
The "people" of Lyndhall were inspired by the example of those from
Riverlawn, and they were filled with admiration when they saw those of
their own kind bearing arms, some of them well mounted, and learned that
they had actually done duty during the night as soldiers. General,
Dummy, and Mose had talked to them, and roused their spirit of
emulation. Besides, they had been moved by the same devotion to the
members of the planter's family; and their indignation at the conduct of
the overseer, who had been their tyrant, had done not a little to
develop their belligerent feelings.
The ruffians had taken to their heels, and fled into the open country
between the old and the new road. There were some trees upon the tract,
and the fugitives proceeded to utilize them as far as they were
available to shelter them from the balls of the horsemen. At this point
the negroes of Lyndhall, unexpectedly to their owner, manifested their
presence in a very decided manner. The sight of the four stout boys on
the horses, undismayed by the random shots which had been fired at them,
had a tremendous influence upon them, and they became exceedingly
excited, not to say crazed; and, without any orders from the commander,
they rushed into the fields after the ruffians.
Doubtless they would have obeyed from instinct the order to return if
the colonel had given it; but he allowed them to have their own way.
With the various weapons with which they had armed themselves, they fell
upon the helpless fugitives, pounded, punched, and hammered them till
they begged for mercy. They, in turn, were confronted by an infuriated
mob. Those who were able to do so fled with all the speed they could
command towards the old road, which was nearly a mile distant at this
point. Not a few of them had been so beaten that they could not run, and
they dropped upon the ground. The victors were not cruel, and they did
not meddle with those who no longer made any resistance.
The Lyndhall boys had gone into the fight with no leader of their own
number; but as soon as they left the road one developed himself in the
person of the preacher of the plantation, a white-haired negro of over
seventy years of age, whom the family called "Uncle Dave." He had always
been a mild, gentle, and very religious man, and he was always treated
with respect.
Uncle Dave seemed to become a giant in strength, his voice that of a
stentor, and his manner fierce, as soon as his flock went into action.
He called upon his people not to kill the ruffians, for their souls were
black with unrepented sins; and when one of the marauders sunk to the
earth, he commanded them not to touch him again. The fleeing ruffians
were indebted to him for their lives, while he ordered his flock to
punish them severely as they deserved.
Colonel Belthorpe regarded this man with wonder; for he had always been
as gentle as a lamb, obedient in all things, and anxious to minister to
the people in sickness and death. Now he seemed to be the most terrible
fighting character he had ever met. He saw his volunteers, as he called
them, chase the ruffians till they disappeared in the distance and the
darkness. The mounted men had ceased firing, for there was no enemy
near, and they were fearful of hitting those who were fighting on their
own side.
"We have made a clean sweep here," said the commander, as Colonel
Cosgrove and Major Gadbury joined him in the road; for they had been in
the fields south of the road, engaged in a flank movement.
"It has been an easy victory," replied the gentleman from the county
town. "But they were nothing but a mob; and your boys seem to be
lunatics. They are likely to kill the whole of them before they get
through."
"They will not kill one of them unless it is by accident, for I heard
Uncle Dave order them as they took to the fields not to do so; and I
notice that when a man drops on the ground they let him alone," added
the Lyndhall planter.
"We have nothing more to do here, unless we go down the road and pick up
the wounded, for I see half a dozen of them in front of us, though they
are all sitting up and looking about them, so that none of them have
been killed," said Major Gadbury.
"Our occupation here appears to be gone," continued Colonel Belthorpe,
as he looked over the fields from which the combatants had disappeared,
with the exception of those who were unable to run away. "Major Lyon
over on the old road may not have been as fortunate as we have been, and
we must go over and re-enforce him. General!"
"Here, sar!" replied that worthy.
"We are going over to the old road to help out Major Lyon. You will
leave two of your men here, one mounted, and the other on foot, to watch
the enemy; the others will go with me," added the planter.
"Yes, sar," answered General, as he detailed the two scouts. "I reckon
we done finished 'em ober here, Mars'r Cunnel."
"No doubt of it, General; and I hope Major Lyon has done as well over on
the old road."
The commander started off at a gallop, and the mounted men closely
followed him. They passed through the deserted courtyard of the mansion,
where the planter was accosted by his two daughters, who had been
observing the movements of the combatants from the elevated veranda of
the house.
"Where are you going now, papa?" asked Miss Kate.
"We have driven off the ruffians from this side, and we are going over
to assist Major Lyon," replied the colonel. "Sam, you will remain here,
and look out for the house," he added to the man with the white jacket,
to whom this duty had been before assigned, and then rode on towards the
old road.
"Don't shoot, Colonel Belthorpe!" called a voice from behind the stable,
as the horsemen advanced, and a man came out into the roadway.
It was Tilford, the overseer, who had retreated from the mansion, and
joined the ruffians, whom he called his friends. At the first discharge
of the mounted men which followed the revolver practice of the
commander, he had been hit in the thigh with a bullet; and at the
general stampede of the enemy he had made his way into the field.
Realizing that there was no safety for him among "his friends," he had
limped all the way back to the mansion.
His wound was not a bad one, though it was painful, and partially
disabled him. As he had detached himself from the ruffians there was no
one to dispute his passage, and he had reached the stable, behind which
he had concealed himself when he heard the approach of the horsemen.
But, dark as it was, the colonel perceived and recognized him.
"What are you doing here, Tilford?" demanded the commander.
"I am wounded and in great pain," replied the overseer in weak and
submissive tones.
"Then why don't you join your friends?" asked the colonel.
"I made a mistake to-night, and I did not know who my friends were,"
pleaded the wounded man.
"Sam!" shouted the planter to the house servant, who had followed the
party nearly to the stable; and the boy immediately presented himself
before his master. "Take the overseer to his room, and do what you can
for him."
"Thank you, Colonel!" exclaimed Tilford; and his wound seemed to have
made another man of him.
Sam took the sufferer by the arm, wondering at the magnanimity of his
master, who had ordered all the people to shoot him if he was seen again
on the premises, and conducted him towards the mansion, where he had a
chamber back of the dining-room. As he led him up the steps, Margie and
Kate came to him; and they proved to be as forgiving as their father,
for they did everything they could to make him comfortable. One of the
old "aunties," skilled in nursing, was sent to him, and his wound was
dressed.
The mounted men, led by the commander, galloped over to the old road,
which was deserted at the place where they came out. On a slight
elevation in the highway a great fire was blazing brilliantly, and near
it was an assemblage of people, the nature of which the commander could
not make out.
"I don't understand that gathering," said he, as Major Gadbury rode up
to his side.
"It looks as though the enemy were using the flag of truce ruse over
here," replied the major.
"I don't believe Major Lyon would fool with them. They are marauders and
disturbers of the peace, and I think he is as disposed to deal summarily
with them as I am," added the commander. "But we will ride up to the
place, and we shall soon know what is going on."
"Who are these men coming into the road just ahead of us?" asked Major
Gadbury, pointing to three men who were making their way through the
field to the road. "The fire on the hill don't give quite light enough to
enable me to make them out; but I suppose they are ruffians who have
made their way from the new road."
"I don't know what they are, but we will go and see;" and they rode
forward about a dozen rods to the point where the men were emerging from
the field. "Who goes there?" demanded Colonel Belthorpe.
"Is that you, Mars'r Cunnel?" asked one of them.
"Uncle Dave!" exclaimed the planter.
"That's the parson," added Colonel Cosgrove.
"What are you doing over here, Uncle?" asked the commander.
"We done have nothin' more to do over yonder," replied the preacher.
"The boys are all movin' over this way."
"But where are the ruffians that retreated from the new road?"
"The boys fell upon 'em and drove 'em over to the west, sar," the parson
explained. "We don't kill any of 'em; but we bang 'em so they hold still
on the ground. We think they was comin' over here to help the ruffians
on this side, and we come over to 'tend to 'em."
"All right, venerable Uncle," laughed the colonel. "But can you tell me
what is going on upon the hill yonder?"
"I don't know, Mars'r Cunnel. I don't see 'em till now."
Uncle Dave had a pitchfork in his hand, and it was plain enough just now
that he was of the church militant, for he was in fighting condition. It
was said that he could read and write; but from motives of policy he
never allowed a white man to see him do either. He was a sensible old
man in spite of his condition, and was employed about the stable and
carriage-house, and was favored by his master and all the family. He had
learned to speak without using the negro dialect, though his sentences
were not rhetorical models, and from the force of habit he retained some
of the old forms to avoid the imputation of "putting on airs."
"There seems to be no fighting going on up there," said the commander
after he had studied the situation some time, though he could not
understand it. "If the ruffians are moving over here, as Uncle Dave
says, we shall be needed in that quarter."
"I don't think so, Mars'r Cunnel, for we maul the ruffians so that they
won't want to fight no more for two weeks and a half," added the
preacher, who heard the remark.
"You may stay here, and if your flock come to this road, send them up to
the hill where we are going," ordered the commander, as he dashed off,
followed by the other horsemen.
The gathering on the hill was not a parley under a flag of truce, as
Colonel Belthorpe feared it might be; but to explain its nature it will
be necessary to go back to the time when Major Lyon, followed by his
command, had marched over to the old road.