“If anybody can straighten them out, _you_ can, General; whether it is to be done by law or by force of arms. We haven’t forgotten your record in the Confederate service. But have you no help? You will need backing, I fear.” “I have called upon several gentlemen along the way, and interested them and their clubs, I think; and the club at Enfield promise to come over to my assistance one hundred strong at least. But I have just been computing and could desire even a larger force, especially should the Judge decide adversely to us; for something _must_ be done to insure our protection. I confess I feel some concern.” “On reflection, I think you need not, General, for the community is fully aroused by a report that the negroes intend to _mob_ those young men.” “Mob them!” ejaculated General Baker, with an oath. “They will scarcely dare to do that. They know my military reputation too well to try that, and I shall be prepared for them, now that you have kindly forewarned me. But to be so Doctor, I must bid you good-day, and hasten forward, for a good seven miles lies before me yet.” “I have great confidence in your ability to command success, and am sure the darkies have a wholesome respect for the same. So, wishing you all success, I also bid you good-day.” The General now called more frequently upon the white people along the way, but soon found them anticipating his coming and ready to join him soon; forming quite an escort of cavalry as they proceeded. It was two o’clock and intensely hot when they arrived at Sommer Hill, and found about one hundred and fifty men grouped in the shade of two wide-spreading oak trees near a church there, and around a grog shop opposite. The General’s arrival was greeted with three cheers, three times repeated, and three “tigers;” and the men, anxious to do him honor, pressed around his carriage to shake his hand and assure him that they still cherished the recollections of his gallantry on behalf of the “lost cause.” Though quite animated, this scene was brief, for courteously declining the scores of invitations to “drink,” General Baker informed his followers that the call to duty was still more imperative to his mind than those to eat or drink, and he must hasten forward to consult with his clients before the hour for court arrived. Directing them to remain there till signaled, and to keep an outlook from the brow of the hill overlooking Baconsville, two miles away, he bravely rode thitherward entirely unattended, notwithstanding the earnest protestations of his numerous friends. “So brave a man who can decline such entreaties to drink, and as gracefully as the General did, ought to be at the head of a temperance society,” said a young man, lounging near the church. “That’s so, Jimminy!” replied a comrade. “Wonder if he isn’t.”