A yell went up from the other guerrillas, and they fired at random, but did no damage to anybody but Old Ben, who was shot through the left shoulder. Then the other boys fired, and the guerrillas who could do so took to their heels.
"Ben, are you badly hurt?" asked Jack, when the encounter was over.
"Not wery, Massah Jack," answered the faithful old colored man, and went to the house to bind up his wound.
In the meantime the guerrilla who had been shot lay on the floor, raving and cursing in a frightful manner.
"Stop your swearing, or we'll do nothing for you," said Jack sharply, and then the fellow became more reasonable. He begged to have a doctor care for his wounds.
"We have no doctor here, but we'll care for you as best we can," said our hero, and this was done, although the guerrilla was kept at the stable, on a bed of straw.
At nightfall the fighting came to an end, and all became quiet around the plantation. It had been more or less of a drawn battle, and it was expected that the contest would be renewed at daybreak.
"Are you going to bed, Jack?" asked Mrs. Ruthven, a little after ten o'clock.
"No, mother; I think it best that I remain on guard," he answered. "Some of those guerrillas may come back, you know."
"But you must be tired out."