“So am I glad we are off,” answered Andy, as he patted Firefly, his horse, affectionately upon the neck. “I wonder how soon we’ll fight our first battle?” “That will depend altogether upon our leaders. I understand Harper’s Ferry has been taken. That will give us a lot of guns and ammunition from the arsenal.” “Yes, and a victory at Norfolk Navy Yard will be still more important.” “By the way, how about that Pennsylvania friend of yours?” went on Leroy Wellington. “What does he think of things now?” “Oh, he has already joined the volunteers called for by Lincoln.” “Humph! Then we may meet on the field of battle?” “I trust I don’t have to fight Louis face to face,” answered Andy, very seriously. “War is one thing, and shooting or cutting down your friend is another.” “I suppose that is so, Andy; but if my friend chooses to become my enemy that is his lookout, not mine,” concluded Leroy Wellington. On went the cavalry until about six o’clock in the evening. They had now arrived at a small village called Parker’s Mills, and it was decided to put up there for the night. Accommodations were found for the horses in the various stables in the neighborhood, and as patriots the cavalrymen were entertained at the various homes in the vicinity. Parker’s Mills was full of slaves, and it had been whispered about that there was fear of an uprising among the colored folks. For this reason every slave was watched closely, and if any were found to be at all rebellious, they were chained up and subjected to severe lashings. It was about eleven o’clock that Andy was aroused from a light sleep into which he had fallen by the sounds of a violent struggle in the sitting-room below the bed-chamber he was occupying. Slipping into a portion of his clothing, he hurried below, to find the master of the house, a Mr. Rockleigh, struggling valiantly in the grasp of two burly negroes who were his slaves. The negroes had contemplated flight, but before going had sneaked into the house in an attempt to steal some money which had been left in an old-fashioned secretary in the room. “Let go, Pomp,” gasped Mr. Rockleigh. “Let go, or sure as I live I’ll flay you alive for this.” “Dun yo’ let go, Pomp,” put in one of the burly negroes. “We is in dis to de end, remember!” “I ain’t a-lettin’ go, Cuffy,” replied Pomp. “Now, Massa Rockleigh, yo’ quit yo’ noise, or I’ll knock yo’ ober de head wid dis yere club. We knows well enough yo’ wife is away an’ de young ladies, too, an’ we is bound to hab our own way.” “You--you scoundrels!” cried the master, but even as he spoke the club descended and the man of the house fell back partly unconscious from a blow upon the head. It was at this moment that Andy leaped into the sitting-room. On coming down he had caught up his sword, and taking in the situation at a glance, he advanced upon the two slaves. “Stop where you are!” he commanded; “stop, unless you want your heads cut open!”