“Deed I won’t, darlin’; de bressed little lambs! dere ole mammy’d fight de Kluxes to her last breff, fo’ dey should hurt a hair ob deir heads.  But don’t ye fret, Miss Elsie, honey; dey’ll not come yere; de good Lord ’ll not let dem get into de house,” she added, big tears filling her old eyes, while she clasped her idolized mistress in her arms as if she were still the little girl she had so loved to caress and fondle years ago.

Elsie returned the embrace, gave a few whispered directions, and glided into the next room, there to linger a moment by the couch of her little girls, who were also sleeping sweetly, then hastened to rejoin Mrs. Dinsmore and Rosie, in one of the rooms opening upon the lower front veranda.

They sat at a table covered with arms and ammunition.  Rose was a little pale, but calm and composed, as was Elsie also; Rosie, making a great effort to be brave, could not still the loud beating of her heart as she sat listening intently for sounds from without.

Elsie placing herself beside her young sister and taking her hand, pressed it tenderly, whispering with a glad smile, “’They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which can not be removed, but abideth forever.’”

Rosie nodded a half-tearful assent.

Horace looked in.  “They are just entering the avenue.  Mother and sisters, be brave and help us with your prayers,” he said, low and earnestly, and was gone.

The ladies exchanged one swift glance, then bent forward in a listening attitude and for the next few moments every other sense seemed lost in that of hearing.

The raiders, as was their usual custom, had dismounted at the gate, and leaving their horses in the care of two of their number, approached the house on foot.  They came on three abreast, but as they neared the dwelling, one line branched off and passed around it in the direction of the kitchen.

In an instant more the double column, headed by the leader of the troop, had reached the steps of the veranda, where it came to a sudden halt, a sort of half smothered grunt of astonishment coming from the captain as he hastily ran his eye along the barricade, which till that moment had been concealed from himself and comrades, by the semi-darkness and a profusion of flowering vines.

The darkness and silence of death seemed to reign within:  yet each one of the little garrison was at his post, looking out through a loophole, and covering one or another of the foe with his revolver, while with his finger upon the trigger, he only awaited the word of command to send the bullet to its mark.

Young Horace found it hard to restrain his impatience.  “What a splendid opportunity his father was letting slip! why did he hesitate to give the signal?” For, perhaps, the first time in his life, the young man thought his father unwise.

But Mr. Dinsmore knew what he was about; blood should not be shed till the absolute necessity was placed beyond question.