their name in some degree by giving very unpalatable information.  As none are so blind as those who will not see, the old man had testily pooh-poohed at what he termed “temporary reverses,” and his immunity from disturbance had confirmed his belief that the old order of things could not materially change.  True, some of his slaves had disappeared, but he had given one who had been caught such a lesson that the rest had remained quiet if not contented.

The news brought by his overseer became therefore more disturbing than the strange and preposterous conduct of his niece, and he had demanded excitedly, “What on earth’s the matter, Perkins?”

“Well, sir, fur’s I kin mek out, this very plantation’s been p’luted by Yankee soldiers this very evenin’.  Yes, sir.”

“Great heavens!  Perkins,” and Mr. Baron sprang from his chair, then sank back again with an expression suggesting that if the earth opened next it could not be worse.

“Yes, sir,” resumed Perkins, solemnly, “I drawed that much from Jute.  He seen ’em hisself.  I noticed a s’pressed ’citement en talk in the quarters this evenin’, an’ I follered hit right up an’ I ast roun’ till I pinned Jute.  He was over the fur side of the run lookin’ fur a stray crow, an’ he seen ’em.  But they was bein’ chased lively.  Mad Whately—­beg pardon—­Mr. Madison was arter them with whip and spur.  Didn’t yer hear a crack of a rifle?  I did, and reckoned it was one o’ the Simcoe boys out gunnin’, but Jute says hit was one o’ our men fired the shot, en that they chased the Yanks to’erds the big woods.  They was all mounted en goin’ it lickity switch.  The thing that sticks in my crop isn’t them few what Mr. Madison chased, but the main body they belongs to.  Looks as ef there’s goin’ to be a raid down our way.”

“If that is so,” said Mr. Baron, majestically, “Lieutenant Whately proves that our brave men are not far off, either, and the way he chased some of them shows how all the vile invaders will eventually be driven out of the country.  Be vigilant, Perkins, and let it be understood at the quarters that Lieutenant Whately is within call.”

The overseer bowed awkwardly and limped away.  His lameness had secured him immunity from military duty.

“Ah, that’s a man for you,” said Mr. Baron, glaring at his niece.  “Your cousin is a true scion of Southern chivalry.  That is the kind of a man you do not know whether you wish to marry or not—­a brave defender of our hearths and liberties.”

“If he wishes to marry me against my will, he’s not a defender of my liberty,” retorted the girl.

“If you had the spirit which should be your birthright your eyes would flash with joy at the prospect of seeing a hero who could thus chase your enemies from our soil.  If you could only have seen him in his headlong—­”

“I did see him.”

“What!”

“I saw Cousin Madison leading a dozen or more men in pursuit of half a dozen.  That does not strike me as sublimely heroic.”