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.