When at length upon the road again, the bruised youth resolved to follow a cattle-track “across lots,” for the greater space in which to exercise with his Indian club as he walked.  Like any other novice in the practice, he could not divest his mind of the impression, that the frightful thumps he continually received, in twirling the merciless thing around and behind his devoted head, were due to some kind of crowding influence from the boundaries on either side the way, and it was to gain relief from such damaging contraction of area that he left the highway for the wider wintry fields.  Going onward in these latter at an irregular pace; sometimes momentarily stunned into a rangy stagger by a sounding blow on the cerebrum or the cerebellum; and, again, irritated almost to a run by contusion of shoulder-blade or funny-bone; he finally became aware that two men were following him through the lots, and that with a closeness of attention indicating more than common interest.  To the perception of his keenly sensitive Southern nature they at once became ribald Yankee vandals, hoping for unseemly amusement from the detection of some awkwardness in the Indian-club-play of a defeated but not conquered Southern Gentleman; and, in the haughty sectional pride of his contemptuous soul, he indignantly determined to show not the least consciousness of their disrespectful observation.  Twirling the club around and around his battered head with increasing velocity, he smiled scornfully to himself, nor deigned a single backward glance at the one of his two followers who approached more rapidly than the other.  He heard the hindermost say to the foremost, “Leave him alone, I tell you, and he’ll knock himself down in a minute,” and, in a passionately reckless effort of sheer bravado to catch the club from one hand with the other while it yet circled swiftly over his skull, he accidentally brought the ungovernable weapon into tremendous contact with the top of his head, and dashed himself violently to the earth.

“Didn’t I tell you he’d do it?” cried the hindermost of the two strangers, coming up; while the other coolly seated himself upon the prostrated victim.  “These here Indian clubs always throw a man if he ain’t got muscle in his arms; and this here little Chivalry has got arms like a couple of canes.”

“Arise from me instantly, fellow.  You’re sitting upon my breast-pin,” exclaimed Montgomery to the person sitting upon him.

They suffered him to regain his feet, which he did with extreme hauteur, and surveyed his bumped head and swollen countenance with undisguised wonder.

“How dare you treat a Southerner in this way?” continued the young man, his head aching inexpressibly.  “I thought the war was over long ago.  If money is your object, seek out a citizen of some other section than mine; for the South is out of funds just now, owing to the military outrages of Northern scorpions.”

“We’re constables, Mr. Pendragon,” was the reply, “and it is our duty to take you back to the main road, where a couple of your friends are waiting for you.”