Again the brothers' blades clashed together, but a tall, powerful form sprang from the thicket into the road and hurled them apart, as though they were children.
"Brothers seeking each other's blood?" cried the new comer in a ringing voice. "Shame! oh, shame! There are enemies enough for both your swords without drawing them on each other."
The new comer was the mysterious negro, Yellow Steve.
"I know you," cried Oleah; "you have something to tell me—"
"But it is not to slay your brother," interrupted Yellow Steve. "Shame on you both! Put up your swords, lest I take them from you and break them on my knee. You, Oleah, go, and go quickly. Your enemies are all around you."
"Hilloa!" cried another voice, "what does all this mean?" and Uncle Dan Martin, the scout, stepped out of the woods, with his rifle, ready cocked, in his hand.
Oleah, hearing others advancing, sprang into the bushes and made good his escape. Abner looked after him for a single moment, and when he turned to speak to Yellow Steve, that mysterious person had disappeared.
"Who was them uns?" asked Uncle Dan, hastening forward to where his bewildered captain stood.
"One was my brother Oleah, the other was that strange negro, who calls himself Yellow Steve."