"Exactly so; you have heard the story of the capture of the arms at the sink-hole; the cannon are mounted in the ice-house. If you see one of our darkeys flinch when the firing begins, I wish you would let me know, and we will cut down his hominy ration," rattled Deck, as enthusiastic as though he had slept all night instead of half an hour. "But I have got an idea." "You seem to have one in tow all the time." "I want you to mention it to my father if you believe in it, and he will think more of it than if I put it forward." "Your father seems to think a good deal of what you say and do." "He will think I am too old for my years; but he is the best father I ever had, and I want him to come out of this scrape with flying colors." "But what is your idea, Deck?" asked Tom curiously. "I think my father is waked up to the bottom of his boots; he won't fool with any flags of truce, and he will order us all to fire as soon as the time comes, though his own brother is in the gang ahead of us, or in the one over on the other road." "I am sure he won't wince." "And the moment we fire, the ruffians will all run away, which the darkeys won't do. That is just what I have seen them do twice to-night. I wonder what they came over here for if they didn't mean to fight." "They came over here to burn your father's house and that of mine; but I reckon they didn't expect to get the reception Major Lyon had prepared for them." "They will run away, Tom," repeated Deck; "and that is just what I don't want them to be allowed to do." "Not if we can prevent it; for I believe that hanging would do good to some of them." "We can prevent it if my father will adopt your suggestion," added Deck. "My suggestion! I haven't got any suggestion, and I don't know what you are talking about, Deck," replied Tom, puzzled with the remark. "All the way I can see to manage this affair is to rush at the ruffians and drive them off." "We don't want to drive them off till we have given them a little wholesome discipline. I suppose you know what a flank movement is, fellow-soldier?" "I have an idea what it is." "We used to practise it when we were snowballing on sides away up in the glorious State of New Hampshire, if we got a chance to do it." "We don't practise snowballing much down here, and I never was engaged in a flank movement at a snowball match. But I have an idea that it is getting around the enemy, whether in a battle or a game, and taking them on the side or in the rear." "You could not have stated it any better if you had been studying the art of war or the science of snowballing all your lifetime," added Deck. "Be a little more serious, Mr. Lyon, and I shall understand you better," said Tom, looking very grave himself. "I will be as serious as the parson at a funeral, Mr. Belthorpe. We have plenty of men to flank them handsomely; for it don't take a great crowd with seven-shooters in their hands to hold that gang where they are."