For answer, the leader snatched a holster from his saddle so vehemently that the darkey needed no other inducement to return with all speed to the house.
"What is the matter, Pompey?" asked Mr. Tompkins, as the boy stood breathless before him.
"Oh, gracious, mars, don't know, 'cept they be's a band o' brigantines as wants to see you down at the gate."
Mr. Tompkins smiled at Pompey's terror, and rose to go, but Mrs. Tompkins, who did not like the angry gesticulations of the strangers at the gate, accompanied her husband.
"Is your name Tompkins" asked the ferocious-looking leader, as the planter and his wife paused just inside the gate.
"It is, sir. Whom have I the honor of addressing?" returned Mr. Tompkins.
"I am Sergeant Strong of the Independent Mounted Volunteers of Jeff. Davis, and I have come here to hang you, sir."
Mrs. Tompkins gave a scream and clung to her husband.
"The men are only joking, Camille; can't you see they are only joking?" said Mr. Tompkins, to soothe his terrified wife.
"You'll find out that we're not joking," said the leader of the band, dismounting and fastening his horse to an ornamental tree on the lawn. Six of his men followed his example, leading their horses inside the gate, and hitching them to the fence or trees.