“Well, K——­, we’ve got you this time.”

“That,” said another, “is no K——­; that is Walter Owen, who used to be overseer on Stewart’s plantation.”

“What are you doing here?” demanded another.

Mr. Owen, trembling in his night-clothes, replied that he had been engaged to stay there as overseer.

“Where is K——­, and where is Colburn?”

“Mr. Colburn hasn’t been here since last Monday.  Mr. K——­ has gone to Natchez.”

“That’s a ——­ lie,” said one of the guerrillas.  “We know he came here at two o’clock this afternoon, and was here at dark.  He is somewhere around this house.”

In vain did Owen protest I was not there.  Every room and every closet in the house was searched.  A pile of bagging in a garret was overhauled, in the expectation that I was concealed within it.  Even the chimneys were not neglected, though I doubt if the smallest of professional sweeps could pass through them.  One of the guerrillas opened a piano, to see if I had not taken refuge under its cover.  They looked into all possible and impossible nooks and corners, in the hope of finding me somewhere.  At last they gave up the search, and contented themselves with promising to catch both Colburn and myself before long.

“We want to go through those d—­d Abolitionists, and we will do it, too.  They may dodge us for a while, but we will have them by-and-by.”

Not being privileged to “go through” me as they had anticipated, the gentlemanly guerrillas went through the overseer.  They took his money, his hat, his pantaloons, and his saddle.  His horse was standing in the stable, and they took that also.  They found four of our mules, and appropriated them to their own use.  They frightened one of the negroes into telling where certain articles were concealed, and were thus enabled to carry off a goodly amount of plunder.  They threatened Mr. Owen with the severest punishment, if he remained any longer on the plantation.  They possessed themselves of a “protection” paper which Mrs. B. had received from the commander at Natchez several months before, and were half inclined to burn her buildings as a punishment for having sought the favor of the Yankees.  Their stay was of only an hour’s duration.

From our plantation the robbers went to the one next above, where they were more fortunate in finding the lessees at home.  They surrounded the house in the same manner they had surrounded ours, and then burst open the doors.  The lessees were plundered of every thing in the shape of money, watches, and knives, and were forced to exchange hats and coats with their captors.  One of the guerrillas observed an ivory-headed pencil, which he appropriated to his own use, with the remark: 

“They don’t make these things back here in the woods.  When they do, I will send this one back.”

These lessees were entertaining some friends on that evening, and begged the guerrillas to show them some distinction.