"The sergeant appears to have locked up the ruffians in the second story as though he meant to keep them there the rest of their natural lives," replied the planter. "We have not yet lost a single one of our number." "It is the policy of war to save your own men while you destroy the enemy," added Deck. "The next thing to be done is to drive the ruffians out of the house." "That seems to be easier said than done," replied the colonel, with an inquiring look at the young officer. "How do you propose to do it?" "I don't know that it can be done; but there is nothing like trying. I suppose you are still a rifleman, Colonel Hickman?" "I am, as I have been since I was a dozen years old. I have my old rifle here," he answered, pointing to the dozen of them resting against the side of the house. "I judge that you have some plan in your busy young head, Lieutenant. I am ready to obey all your orders, without regard to my age." Deck stated his plan, which he had arranged after a survey of the surroundings of the mansion. It involved a change of position among the men, the most important of which was placing the planter behind the safe in the hall, thus releasing Fronklyn for more active duty. The colonel was willing, and even glad, to take the position assigned to him, and, like a good soldier, asked no questions. "But what about the attack you expect this afternoon?" asked Deck. "I have put my servants on picket, as they have been for several days. They are all mounted, just as they came back from the avenue. They are all faithful to me, though I don't expect them to do any fighting; but they can keep watch as well as white men." "Then, if you are ready, Colonel, we will go to the front hall of the house," said the lieutenant, as he led the way. At the door he called the sergeant from behind his breastwork, and put the planter in his place. The old soldier had hardly shown himself in the hall before a shot was fired down the stairway. Doubtless one or more of the ruffians had been on the lookout for the appearance of a man in the hall below; and as the planter passed behind the open door, the opportunity had been used. Fortunately the venerable planter was not hit; for the enemy had only such old flint-lock guns as General Crittenden describes in his report of the battle of Mill Springs, and they were far from being reliable weapons. The bullet shattered the edge of the door, and no other damage was done. The veteran proved that he was still an active man; for as soon as he was behind the steel fortress, he cast a searching glance up the stairs. On the landing he discovered a head on the floor; for the man who had fired the shot was lying where he could see down into the hall. It would have been better for him if his feet had been where his head was; for the planter raised his rifle, and fired at almost the same instant. His companions drew his body back without exposing themselves to the deadly fire from the hall.