"Halloo, Artie!" exclaimed Deck, as his brother dashed into the presence of the captain. "Bully for you, Deck! We heard the company cheering you; what mighty deed have you done now?" demanded the messenger, for such he was, from the major, as he saluted Captain Truman. "It is Major Lyon's order that you proceed to disarm the prisoners, as they are doing on the other side." "Order understood," replied the captain. "You can tell the major that Deck gave the finishing touch to the fight, Artie;" and he described the fall of Major Vinegold, and the immediate surrender that followed. Artie hastened back to headquarters; and the captain formed the guerillas near him in line, and took from them all their arms. The major had ordered a large fire to be started at the side of the road, and the scene was already well lighted. The prisoners had been formed in line in the same manner on the south end of the battle-field, and their arms taken from them. On the road, and beside it, seven men lay silent and motionless; and perhaps there were others on the wooded knoll. The squadron had not had a man killed, though about a dozen had been wounded; and Dr. Farnwright and his assistants were attending to them. Among the prisoners the men were binding up the wounds of each other. The form of the fire-eater commander lay where he had fallen; and Deck saw him move as he was about to report to the major. He felt more interest in this man than in the others; and he dismounted from his horse. Ceph was as fond of his master as a kitten of the child that pets it; and there was no need to secure him, for he would have stood there all night. Deck was even more devoted to him than he was to pretty Miss Kate Belthorpe, which is saying a great deal. He had fed him on dainties, and made him his constant associate in the months when he was drilling. Ceph was very intelligent, and seemed to understand his master's humor as though he had been human. The rider went to the fallen guerilla. He was not dead. He had been stunned, and was just coming to his senses. By the light of the fire Deck could see that his head was covered with blood. Looking closer, he found that his left ear had been smitten entirely from the side of his head. The sabre appeared to have struck him sideways, giving the blow that stunned him, and then glancing off so as to take the ear with it. If the blade had struck him fairly, it would have split his head open; as it was, his brains were saved at the expense of his ear. "How do you feel, Major Vinegold?" asked Deck in sympathetic tones,--for a wounded or dying enemy was no longer a foe to him,--as he took the handkerchief of the sufferer from his pocket and bound it over his head, so as to cover the wound. "I'm better, I think," replied the major, as Deck assisted him to sit up. "Have we licked that Home Guard?"