The light was fading fast; the fury of the storm, whose preliminary blasts were shaking the dwelling, was coming as if an ally with the galloping Union ranks and threatening the equally impetuous onset of the Confederates.  In the very van of the Southern force a vivid flash of lightning revealed Mad Whately, with a sabre of flame.  For once he made a heroic figure.  His mother saw him and shrieked despairingly, but her voice was lost in the wild uproar of thunder, yells and shouts of the combatants, the shock of steel and crash of firearms.  Then torrents of rain, which had approached like a black curtain extending from heaven to earth, hid the awful scene of conflict.  It vanished like a dream, and would have seemed but a nightmare had not the ominous sounds continued.

Mr. Baron broke the spell which had fallen upon him, dragged his sister and niece within the door, and bolted it with difficulty against the spray-laden gusts.

CHAPTER XXII

CHUNK’S QUEST

If there had been sufficient light the battle might have continued in spite of the tropical downpour, but darkness became so intense that friend and foe were alike disguised from each other.  At this crisis, Scoville’s horse was shot and fell, dragging his rider down also.  A flash of lightning revealed the mishap to Mad Whately, who secured the capture of the Union officer before he could extricate himself.

By a sort of mutual consent the contending forces drew apart.  Prisoners had been taken on both sides, and Whately, who had badly sprained his arm, unfitting himself for active duty, was given charge of those secured by the Confederates.

General Marston withdrew the Union forces to the ridge again.  He was satisfied that prudence required rapid progress toward his somewhat distant destination.  True, he had severely checked his foes, but he knew that they had reinforcements near, while he had not.  He deeply regretted Scoville’s absence and possible death, but he had the map, and the men who had been out with the scout were acquainted with the selected road.  Therefore, as soon as the violence of the storm abated and the moon shed a faint radiance through the murky clouds, he renewed his march as rapidly as the rain-soaked ground permitted.  Fires were lighted along the ridge to deceive the enemy, and a rearguard left to keep them burning.

The trembling household within the mansion slowly rallied as the sounds of battle died away.  As soon as the fury of the conflict and storm decreased, Mr. Baron lighted a candle and they looked into one another’s white faces.

Miss Lou was the first to recover some intrepidity of spirit.  “Well,” she said, “we are still alive, and these torrents are evidently stopping the fighting as they would put out fire.”

“Oh, Madison, Madison!” Mrs. Whately moaned, “are you living, or are you dead?  If you are dead it is little to me that I am spared.”