The lieutenant and the sergeant looked in the direction indicated by the ferryman, and saw a man riding down the hill at a breakneck speed. As he came nearer they saw that he was a person over sixty years of age, with long, flowing white hair, like one of the patriarchs of old. He wore a soft black hat, well back on his head. He looked behind him frequently, as though he expected something to transpire in that direction. As Cuffy said, his mansion had been raided several times, and he might have got used to such events. "W'a--w'a--w'at's de matter, Cun'l Hickman?" shouted the ferryman, before the gentleman came within ten rods of him. The rider did not check his speed till he reined in his horse in front of the negro and his guests. He looked at the two officers without giving any attention to Cuffy, and seemed to be astonished to find them there. "I see that you wear the blue," said the colonel, addressing Deck, whose shoulder-straps apparently excited his attention. "We belong to the army of the United States, sir," replied Deck. "Then how do you happen to be here?" demanded the colonel in a tone and with a look of great severity. "It would take some time, Colonel Hickman, to answer your question in full," returned Deck; "but I will say that we marched and fought yesterday from four o'clock in the morning till dark, and were practically prisoners in the camp of the enemy at the end of the day, but escaped in the night in a boat we took from a steamer alongside the fortifications at Beech Grove." "Excuse me for speaking somewhat abruptly, Lieutenant, and give me your hand; for I honor every man that fights or works for his country," continued the colonel. "I am somewhat too old to do either, or I should not be at home." Deck took the proffered hand, and it was warmly pressed by the planter, and he extended the same courtesy to the sergeant. "My mansion is beset by a band of ruffians, and I have been obliged to flee for my life," pursued the planter, glancing back at his house as though he expected to see the flames rising from it. "Do they mean to burn the mansion?" asked the lieutenant, misinterpreting the glance of the owner. "Not at all; I have no fear that they will do that, for they are looking for my money, for I have some concealed on my premises where they will never find it," said the planter with a significant shake of the head, which was as much as to say, "I have euchred them!" "I suppose the banks in this part of the State are no longer safe repositories for valuables," added Deck.