"We done have nothin' more to do over yonder," replied the preacher. "The boys are all movin' over this way." "But where are the ruffians that retreated from the new road?" "The boys fell upon 'em and drove 'em over to the west, sar," the parson explained. "We don't kill any of 'em; but we bang 'em so they hold still on the ground. We think they was comin' over here to help the ruffians on this side, and we come over to 'tend to 'em." "All right, venerable Uncle," laughed the colonel. "But can you tell me what is going on upon the hill yonder?" "I don't know, Mars'r Cunnel. I don't see 'em till now." Uncle Dave had a pitchfork in his hand, and it was plain enough just now that he was of the church militant, for he was in fighting condition. It was said that he could read and write; but from motives of policy he never allowed a white man to see him do either. He was a sensible old man in spite of his condition, and was employed about the stable and carriage-house, and was favored by his master and all the family. He had learned to speak without using the negro dialect, though his sentences were not rhetorical models, and from the force of habit he retained some of the old forms to avoid the imputation of "putting on airs." "There seems to be no fighting going on up there," said the commander after he had studied the situation some time, though he could not understand it. "If the ruffians are moving over here, as Uncle Dave says, we shall be needed in that quarter." "I don't think so, Mars'r Cunnel, for we maul the ruffians so that they won't want to fight no more for two weeks and a half," added the preacher, who heard the remark. "You may stay here, and if your flock come to this road, send them up to the hill where we are going," ordered the commander, as he dashed off, followed by the other horsemen. The gathering on the hill was not a parley under a flag of truce, as Colonel Belthorpe feared it might be; but to explain its nature it will be necessary to go back to the time when Major Lyon, followed by his command, had marched over to the old road. CHAPTER XXVIII THE RESULT OF THE FLANK MOVEMENT Even the title of major which had been thrust upon him could not make the planter of Riverlawn feel like a military commander as he led his battalion of foot and mounted volunteers to the old road, which might prove to be a battle-field. His force consisted of only four white men,--himself, his son, Tom Belthorpe, and Squire Truman. Deck had been provided with a saddle horse from the stable of the Lyndhall planter, so that all of them were well mounted.