He turned and strode off, without so much as giving us a backward glance, and, with a hearty congratulatory kick to the mule, I and my company followed him. A hundred yards further in we passed through the fringe of trees and emerged into an open space from whence we could see plainly the great white house still illumined by the flames which continued to consume the stables. Shots were flashing like fireflies out of the darkness on every side of us, the smell of burning powder scented the air, and I could distinguish the black forms of men lying prone on the grass in something resembling a skirmish line. “Makin' a fight o' it, ain't they?” I asked of our taciturn guide, as we picked our way carefully among the recumbent forms. “Damn 'em, yes; a hell o' a fight,” he admitted bitterly. “Reckoned we hed a soft job yere, an' lots o' ther stuff fer ther boys. They've got some Yanks in thar with repeatin' rifles, but I reckon as whin Red once gits hold on 'em, they'll dance ter another tune.” “Ye mean ter stick it out, then?” “Stick it out? I reckon ye don't know Red, er ye wouldn't be askin' sich a fule question. He'll hev them Yanks now, if it wur ter cost every man he's got. He ain't no quitter, Red ain't.” Just beyond musket-shot from the house, and nearly opposite the front entrance, quite a group of men were standing beneath the black shadows of a grove of trees. In spite of the gleam from the fire I could make little of them, but as we approached from the direction of the rear, one of them exclaimed suddenly: “Who comes thar? What body o' men is thet?” “It's 'nother party o' deserters, as wants ter jine us,” said the guide, sourly. “They's Johnnies from Lee's army.” “Oh, they dew, dew they? Hain't got 'nough o' fightin' yit, I reckon,” and the speaker strode forward, with a rough, mirthless laugh. “Wal, damn 'em, they will yere 'fore I 'm done. We 're a goin' ter rush thet thar house 'fore long, an' hang 'bout a dozen Yanks, an' these yere lads will come in right handy ter go in first. If you uns like fightin' so durn well we'll give ye your bellies full. Who's ther boss o' this yere crowd?” I swung down from my seat on the mule's back, and stood facing him. “We uns hain't got no boss,” I answered, “but they sorter fell in ahind o' me 'cause I wus astraddle o' this muel. Be you named Lowrie?” “I reckon; I'm Red Lowrie,” proudly. “'Spect, maybe, ye've heerd tell o' me, an' if ye hev, ye know ye 've got ter step damn lively whin I howl. Whut wus ye in ther army?” “Corporal.”