"St. John, where are you going?" cried his mother, coming after him.
"Oh, mother, we are lost!" he wailed.
"No, we are not. Go out again, and pick up your gun."
"I—I cannot! They will—will shoot me!" he shivered.
"But they are our own men, St. John. You are perfectly safe with them."
But he would not go, and she left him in the hallway, where he had sunk down on a bench. In one way he was to be pitied, for his fear was beyond his control.
Soon the Confederates left the plantation and the Federalists burst into view. The cannon continued to boom forth, and presently came a cry from the rear of the mansion:
"Fire! fire! The house is on fire!"
The report was true, and as the soldiers left the place up went a large cloud of smoke, followed by the bursting out of flames in several directions. Such was the state of affairs when Jack and his followers reached the roadway in front of the plantation.
"The house is on fire!" ejaculated the young captain. "Come, we must put out the flames."