“I’ll let go--I will!” roared the mountaineer, and pulled Louis to the ground. Yet, as the youth went down, the whip swung around, and the lash took Jacks across the nose, leaving an ugly ridge behind. The next moment Louis found himself surrounded. In vain he tried to beat off his captors. With a savage cry, Jacks felled him to the ground, and ere he could recover the mountaineers caught him up by the arms and legs and bore him off in triumph towards the town pump and watering-trough. CHAPTER II IN A HOSTILE NEIGHBORHOOD It was the intention of the mountaineers to duck Louis in the icy water of the horse trough. Sam Jacks had dilated upon what the Northern youth had said, and all hands had agreed that a “coolin’ off” would do the Northern mud-sill good. The spirit of rebellion had already reached the quiet town of Lee Run, and Louis was to be the first victim of the over-zealous inhabitants. As the little crowd made its way around the depot to where the pump and trough were situated it attracted immediate attention, and folks came running from all directions, wanting to know what was the matter. To all of these Jacks explained the case in his own peculiar way, until half of those assembled felt certain that Louis was about the worst traitor that neighborhood had ever held. “Duck him good, Jacks!” was the cry. “Let him cool off thoroughly.” “Trust me for it!” puffed Jacks, as he felt of the ridge on his nose. “I’ll duck him once on our country’s account and twice on my own account!” It must not be imagined that Louis submitted tamely to the proceedings. As soon as he was able, he began to struggle with might and main to free himself, and so vigorously did he haul and kick that soon one of the men holding his feet received a blow in the stomach which made him falter and lose his grip. But the others closed in, and in a moment more the place where the icy bath was to be administered was reached. In the meantime, Andy and his father had come from the store. Seeing the wagon empty, they looked around for Louis. “They took him over to the pump, Mr. Arlington,” piped up a child standing near. “Dey is dun gwine ter duck him,” explained a darky, who sat on the edge of the store stoop, too lazy to get up and witness proceedings. “To duck him!” gasped Andy. “What for?” “Take de Northern starch outer him, I dun racken, sah.” “The--the brutes!” murmured the Southern youth, and away he sped for the square, with his father stumping after him as rapidly as the cork leg would allow. “Here, you let my friend alone!” cried Andy, bursting into the crowd. “What’s the meaning of this?” “You stand back, Andy Arlington!” growled Jacks. “We’re goin’ ter give him a duckin’, as he deserves.” “Not much! He is my friend and guest, and you must let him alone.” “Yes, yes; let him alone,” put in Mr. Arlington. “He’s a Northerner an’ is talkin’ ag’in we-uns!” burst out one of the mountaineers.