Then going to the bereaved mother, and clasping the dusky, toil-worn hand with her soft, white fingers, “Don’t cry, Minerva,” she said, “you know poor little Ben was always sick, and now he is well and happy.  And if you love Jesus, you will go to be with him again some day.”

Evidently much gratified by the honor done her dead babe, Minerva sobbed out her thanks for that, and the dressing of her wounded arm, and dropping a courtesy, followed Aunt Sally as she bore the corpse into Aunt Dicey’s cabin close by.

The scanty furniture of Minerva’s own had been completely demolished by the desperadoes, and her husband terribly beaten.

He and one or two others had not come up with the crowd, presumably from inability to do so, and Mr. Travilla now mounted his horse and went in search of them.

They had been left by their assailants in the woods, where one—­“Uncle Mose”—­dreadfully crippled by rheumatism, still lay on the ground half dead with bruises, cuts, and pistol shot wounds.

Another had crawled to his cabin and fainted upon its threshold; while a third lay weltering in his gore some yards distant from his.

Mr. Travilla had them all carried into their houses, and made as comfortable as circumstances would permit, and a messenger was dispatched in all haste for Dr. Barton.

The family at Fairview had slept through the night undisturbed by the vicinity, or acts of the raiders.  Mr. Leland’s first intimation of their visit was received as he opened the front door at his usual early hour for beginning his morning round of the plantation.

He almost started back at the sight of a rude pine coffin directly before him; but recovering himself instantly, stooped to read a label affixed to the lid.

“Beware, odious carpet-bagger! this is your third and last warning.  Leave the country within ten days, or your carcass fills this.”

He read it deliberately through, carefully weighing each word, not a muscle of his face moving, not a tremor agitating his nerves.

Turning to his overseer, who at that moment appeared before him, “Bring me a hatchet,” he said in stern, calm tones, “and be quick, Park; I would not have your mistress see this on any account.”

Stepping upon the lid as he spoke, he broke it in with a crash, finishing his work when the hatchet came, by quickly chopping and splitting the coffin up into kindling-wood.

“There!” he said, bidding the man gather up the fragments and carry them to the kitchen, “they’ll not put me into that, at all events.  What mischief have they been at in the quarter, I wonder?” he added, springing into the saddle.

“Dreffle bad work, sah; mos’ killed two ob de boys; scared de rest to deff,” said Park, hastily obeying the order to gather up the bits of wood, “jes’ gwine tell ye, sah, when you tole me go for de hatchet.”

“Indeed! hellish work!  Follow me, Park, as quickly as you can.  And mind, not a word of this,” pointing to the demolished coffin, “to any one,” and putting spurs to his horse, he galloped off in the direction of the quarter.