We must briefly retrace our steps. We left Richard Coulter, in ambush, having so placed his little detachments as to cover most of the groups of dragoons—at least such as might be immediately troublesome. It was with the greatest difficulty that he could restrain himself during the interval which followed the entry of Elijah Fields into the house. Nothing but his great confidence in the courage and fidelity of the preacher could have reconciled him to forbearance, particularly as, at the point which he occupied, he could know nothing of what was going on within. Meanwhile, his eyes could not fail to see all the indignities to which the poor old Dutchman was subjected. He heard his groans and entreaties. “I am a goot friend to King Tshorge! I was never wid de rebels. Why would you do me so? Where is de captaine? I have said dat my darter shall be his wife. Go bring him to me, and let him make me loose from de rope. I’m a goot friend of King Tshorge!” “Good friend or not,” said the brutal lieutenant, “you have to hang for it, I reckon. We are better friends to King George than you. We fight for him, and we want grants of land as well as other people.” “Oh, mine Gott!” Just then, faint sounds of the scuffle within the house, reached the ears of those without. Clymes betrayed some uneasiness; and when the sound of the pistol-shot was heard, he rushed forward to the dwelling. But that signal of the strife was the signal for Coulter. He naturally feared that his comrade had been shot down, and, in the some instant his rifle gave the signal to his followers, wherever they had been placed in ambush. Almost simultaneously the sharp cracks of the fatal weapon were heard from four or five several quarters, followed by two or three scattered pistol-shots. Coulter’s rifle dropt Clymes, just as he was about to ascend the steps of the piazza. A second shot from one of his companions tumbled the provost, having in charge old Sabb. His remaining keeper let fall the rope and fled in terror, while the old Dutchman, sinking to his knees, crawled rapidly to the opposite side of the tree which had been chosen for his gallows, where he crouched closely, covering his ears with his hands, as if, by shutting out the sounds, he could shut out all danger from the shot. Here he was soon joined by Brough, the African. The faithful slave bounded toward his master the moment he was released, and hugging him first with a most rugged embrace, he proceeded to undo the degrading halter from about his neck. This done, he got the old man on his feet, placed him still further amongst the shelter of the trees, and then hurried away to partake in the struggle, for which he had provided himself with a grubbing hoe and pistol. It is no part of our object to follow and watch his exploits; nor do we need to report the several results of each ambush which had been set. In that where we left the four gamblers busy at _Old Sledge_, the proceeding had been most murderous.