“I—­I think—­yes, yes it is they!” returned Arthur, giving a rigorous pull to the string attached to the bell in the kitchen, while Horace did the same by the wire connected with the other; then springing to the stairway they descended with all haste.

Loudly the alarm pealed out in both places, bringing all to their feet, and paling the cheeks of the ladies.

Mr. Dinsmore’s orders were given promptly, in calm, firm tones, and each repaired to his post.

Aunt Dicey, assuming command in the kitchen, delivered her orders with equal promptness and decision.

“Yo’ Ben an’ Jack, tote dis yer pot ob lye up stairs quick as lightnin’, an’ set it whar Aunt Chloe tells yo’.  An’ yo’ Venus, stan’ by de pot ob soap wid a dippah in yo’ hand, an’ fire away at de fust Klux dat shows his debbil horns an’ tongue at de do’.  Min’ now, yo’ take um in de eye, an’ he neber come roun’ heyah no mo’ tryin’ to kill Marse Ed’ard.”

Mr. Leland had fallen asleep in the early part of the evening, but woke with the ringing of the alarm bells.

“Ah, they must be in sight, Uncle Joe,” he said; “help me to my hiding place and leave me there.  You will be needed below.”

“Yes, Massa Leland, dey’s coming” said the old man, instantly complying with his request, “an’ dis niggah’s to demand de boilin’ lye compartment ob dis army ob defense.”

A narrow couch had been spread in the little concealed apartment, and in a trice Mr. Leland found himself stretched upon it.

“There, I’m quite comfortable, Uncle Joe,” he said; “lay my pistols here, close to my hand; then close the panel with all care, and when you leave the room, lock the door behind you and hide the key in the usual place.”

“Yes, sah; an’ please, sah, as yo’s got nuffin’ else for to do, keep askin’ de Lord ob armies to help de right.”

“That I will,” answered Leland heartily.

Uncle Joe, moving with almost youthful alacrity, obeyed the orders given, and hastened to join his wife and Dinah whom he found on the upper veranda in front of the nursery windows, standing ladle in hand, one by the kettle of lye, the other leaning over the railing watching for the coming of the foe.

The old man, arming himself also with a ladle of large capacity, took his station beside the latter.

“Aunt Chloe,” said he, “yo’ bettah go back to de chillens, fear dey might wake up an’ be powerful scared.”

“Yes, spect I bettah; dere ole mammy do best to be wid de darlins,” she replied, resigning her ladle to Prilla, who joined them at that moment, and hurrying back to her charge.

She found her mistress bending over the crib of the sleeping babe.  “I am so thankful they were not roused by the noise, mammy,” she said softly, glancing at the bed where the older two lay in profound slumber, “but don’t leave them alone even for a moment.”