Mr. Tompkins found his wife awaiting him on the piazza, and he knew by the troubled look on her face that she had learned of the attack. He said nothing about it, for a single glance from each explained all.
"You look wearied, husband," said the wife as he sank into a chair at her side.
"I am wearied," he replied, the troubled look deepening on his face.
A moment's silence ensued. Mrs. Tompkins was the first to break it.
"There has been trouble at the camp on Wolf Creek. I heard the firing."
"Yes," said the husband, "a body of Union troops passed through Snagtown to-day to attack the camp there. There has been some sharp firing, but nothing definite has been heard of the affair."
An hour or so later there came a clatter of hoofs down the road, and a dozen horsemen paused in front of the gate, opening into the avenue that led to the house. Mr. Tompkins sent to ascertain what they wanted. The leader inquired if Mr. Tompkins lived there, and being answered in the affirmative, he said, with an oath:
"Well, tell him to come out here."
The speaker was a thick-set, low-browed man, dressed in homespun gray, and armed with a sword and revolver. His companions, as coarse as himself, were armed with rifles; each wore the broad-brimmed black hat then common in the South.
"Does yer want ter see my master?" asked the negro, his black face turning almost white, and his frame shaking with apprehension.