The ruffians had taken to their heels, and fled into the open country between the old and the new road. There were some trees upon the tract, and the fugitives proceeded to utilize them as far as they were available to shelter them from the balls of the horsemen. At this point the negroes of Lyndhall, unexpectedly to their owner, manifested their presence in a very decided manner. The sight of the four stout boys on the horses, undismayed by the random shots which had been fired at them, had a tremendous influence upon them, and they became exceedingly excited, not to say crazed; and, without any orders from the commander, they rushed into the fields after the ruffians. Doubtless they would have obeyed from instinct the order to return if the colonel had given it; but he allowed them to have their own way. With the various weapons with which they had armed themselves, they fell upon the helpless fugitives, pounded, punched, and hammered them till they begged for mercy. They, in turn, were confronted by an infuriated mob. Those who were able to do so fled with all the speed they could command towards the old road, which was nearly a mile distant at this point. Not a few of them had been so beaten that they could not run, and they dropped upon the ground. The victors were not cruel, and they did not meddle with those who no longer made any resistance. The Lyndhall boys had gone into the fight with no leader of their own number; but as soon as they left the road one developed himself in the person of the preacher of the plantation, a white-haired negro of over seventy years of age, whom the family called "Uncle Dave." He had always been a mild, gentle, and very religious man, and he was always treated with respect. Uncle Dave seemed to become a giant in strength, his voice that of a stentor, and his manner fierce, as soon as his flock went into action. He called upon his people not to kill the ruffians, for their souls were black with unrepented sins; and when one of the marauders sunk to the earth, he commanded them not to touch him again. The fleeing ruffians were indebted to him for their lives, while he ordered his flock to punish them severely as they deserved. Colonel Belthorpe regarded this man with wonder; for he had always been as gentle as a lamb, obedient in all things, and anxious to minister to the people in sickness and death. Now he seemed to be the most terrible fighting character he had ever met. He saw his volunteers, as he called them, chase the ruffians till they disappeared in the distance and the darkness. The mounted men had ceased firing, for there was no enemy near, and they were fearful of hitting those who were fighting on their own side. "We have made a clean sweep here," said the commander, as Colonel Cosgrove and Major Gadbury joined him in the road; for they had been in the fields south of the road, engaged in a flank movement.