Presently he saw a party issue from the stockades, and he thought even at that distance he could recognise Archie Sandys. The leaders were white men, and were followed by several blacks with buckets on their heads. He at once divined their object. For some time, apparently, they were not discovered by the rebels, but presently one of the latter, doing duty as a sentinel in advance of the rest, saw what was taking place. He giving notice to the others, a number of them started forth, and, dashing up the hill, began firing away at the white men. Jack witnessed the gallant way in which Archie defended his followers, and had the satisfaction of seeing them regain their fortifications without any of them apparently being wounded. While this scene was being enacted, as the rebels' eyes were turned toward the house, he was able, without much risk, to creep forward and get a more complete view of their position. "We should not have the slightest chance of getting in, that's very certain," he said to himself; "but if we remain here, we shall run a great risk of being caught." And, not without some fear that he might be seen by the blacks, who now covered the opposite hill, he hurried back to his friends. They agreed with him that the sooner they were off the better, but that if they could collect a sufficient force of white men and trustworthy mulattoes, they might without difficulty out their way through the undisciplined band of savages, with some prospect also of putting them to flight. "In my opinion, if they are attacked in a determined way, they will very quickly take to their heels," said Jack. Their return occupied a shorter time than they had before taken, for, as they cared less for being seen, they were able to follow the highroad. On their way, about a mile distant from Walton, they passed through a village which appeared to be entirely deserted. Looking into one of the huts, however, they saw a boy of about twelve years old sitting on the ground, crying and looking very miserable. "What is the matter?" asked Jack, who recognised him as the son of one of the Walton slaves. "Me out in de fields, and when come back find fader gone, me not know where, but s'pose rebels take him away to kill him, for dey kill eberybody else who not get off and hide," answered the boy, who was evidently an unusually intelligent little fellow. "Well, Quashie," said Jack, who was kind-hearted as well as brave, "you had better come along with us, and we will take care of you till father comes back--as I hope he will. Where is your mother?" "Mother lib wid Massa Twigg--she call Martha," he answered. "Oh, then I know her. She nurses the children. All right, Quashie. Cheer up; you shall have something to eat as soon as we get back," said Jack. Quashie started up, and accompanied the young gentleman without further questioning.