Knox started after him with all the hurry there was in his steed; but there was hardly a horse in the squadron that could run as fast as Ceph, for he had been trained to this branch of his equine profession as a racer. But none of the guerillas were disposed to meddle with him again; and perhaps the two who had attacked him before had mistaken his intentions. He rode into the presence of the major, saluted him gracefully; and the cavalrymen who had witnessed his encounter broke out in a cheer. "Captain Gordon replied that he did not give the order to charge, because he was waiting for you to begin on this side of the enemy," said Deck. "Thank Heaven that you are safe, Dexter!" replied the father devoutly. "Heaven and Ceph," added the young hero. The father was busy just then, and he said no more. As soon as Deck had started with his message, Major Lyon realized that the action would become a slaughter, and he was anxious to stay the flow of blood. He was not willing to cut down the men in front of him with the sabres of his soldiers; for they appeared to be helpless, as much from panic as from the want of proper arms. "Do you surrender?" he shouted at the top of his lungs, directing his voice to the mass of the wretches gathered in the centre of the great circle. No one answered him, and probably no one heard him. He ordered Lieutenant Gilder to move his men forward very slowly. This officer was in front of his troopers; and he led the way as directed, the major remaining on the flank. The lieutenant raised his white handkerchief on his sabre, and waved it in the air to indicate his peaceful intentions. When he had gone half the distance to the enemy, he halted the platoon. "Do you surrender?" he shouted at the top of his voice. The answer was the discharge of half-a-dozen muskets by the mounted guerillas who held the front of the mass. Lieutenant Gilder dropped from his horse to the ground; and something like a confused cheer went up from the men who had fired the volley. Sergeant Knox was the next in command; and, pushing his horse to the front, he waved his sabre in the air. "Draw--pistol!" he cried. "Ready--aim--fire!" The pistols were all ready for use, and the men fired them into the front rank of the enemy, which seemed to contain all the fighting ability there was left in the band. They were reloading their old guns; but some of them did not live to complete the operation. Dr. Farnwright, who had been near the major, rushed forward, and Knox sent two men to assist him. Regardless of the danger of the position, the surgeon rushed to the front to attend to the lieutenant. "Platoon--charge!" shouted the sergeant, afraid that the work of the doctor would be impeded by the senseless operations of the mob.