"I wouldn't take ten gold dollars fur my chance of being made cap'n of this company of Home Guards, who would have been conscripted to the last man if it hadn't been fur me," thought Lieutenant Lambert as he rolled over on his face and watched the cutter rounding the stern of the nearest war vessel. "Look wild, there!" he whispered almost fiercely to his men. "Be sure and hold your fire till they come clost in to the shore so that every shot will tell. I don't want to hear another word outen you two," he went on, addressing himself to the citizens, who implored him to stop where he was and not bring destruction upon their town and death to innocent people in it, as he surely would do if he commanded his Home Guards to fire upon that unarmed boat. "You're too big cowards to fight the enemy yourselves, and so we uns had to come in here and do it fur you. Hold steady, everybody!"

Although Lambert's men were all hunters and good shots, they were not disciplined soldiers, and that was all that saved the cutter's crew from annihilation. They would have been steady enough if they had been in the woods watching a runway for deer, but watching for Yankees was a different matter altogether; and just as the Home Guards had pushed their guns over the top of the levee, making use of every clod and piece of driftwood and inequality of the ground that came handy for a screen, and Lieutenant Lambert was cautiously lifting his head to observe the progress the small boat was making toward the landing, a deafening roar rang in his ear, and the man at his side sprang to his feet, stood bewildered for a moment, and then dropped back to his place again. In pushing his double-barrel over the levee with nervous hands the valorous Home Guard had accidentally discharged the piece, and the unexpected report frightened him and threw his comrades into some confusion. For an instant or two a few of them looked and acted as though they wanted to take to their heels; but the voice of Lieutenant Lambert, who was the first to recover himself, checked them.

"Shoot! Fire!" he yelled. "Massy knows 'twon't do no good, and that is something we can thank you fur, Ike Spencer. A man that'll lay flat on the ground and let his gun shoot itself off without orders can't be conscripted any too quick to suit me, and I'll introjuce you to Cap'n Roach soon's I get home. Fire, I tell you!"

And the Home Guards fired—not all together like trained soldiers, but one after another, just as it happened; but the distance was so great and their aim so bad that not a man in the boat was injured. It stopped instantly, however, and came no nearer the landing; and on being hailed by the officer of the deck, it turned about and went back to the vessel to which it belonged. Then came the very thing which the frightened citizens had predicted and Lieutenant Lambert had scouted.

No sooner had the small boat disappeared around the stern of the war ship than a heavy cloud of smoke rolled over the dark, muddy surface of the river, a cannon roared, and the embankment behind which Lieutenant Lambert and his men were lying was jarred perceptibly, as if some heavy body had been dashed with violent force against it. The instant's profound silence that followed was broken, first by shouts and cries of terror from the negroes on the bank, who scattered in all directions, then by a muffled sound something like the puff of a tired locomotive on an up grade, and Lambert's view of the river was shut off by a cloud of dirt and smoke that was thrown high into the air by the explosion of the shell that had buried itself in the ground at the base of the levee. That was enough for the Home Guards, who could not stand so much noise at such close quarters. They jumped to their feet, and fairly tumbled over one another as they fled for safety behind the warehouses where they had left their horses; but even here vengeance pursued them, for the next shell that came from the war vessel crashed through the walls of the nearest house, scattering bricks and mortar about their ears, creating a panic among their untrained steeds, and finally exploding in the edge of the woods half a mile away.

"By gum, boys! Jump on and get outen here!" shouted Lambert, who wished from the bottom of his heart that he could be the first to obey his own order. "Beats the world how straight they can shoot with them big guns of theirn. They'd win more turkeys at a shooting match than the best man among us."

For a few brief, perilous moments the terrified horses refused to stand still long enough for their equally terrified owners to mount; but when, after many fruitless efforts, the Home Guards succeeded in placing themselves in their saddles, the stampede that followed was something we cannot describe. They galloped frantically along the road that ran behind the levee, through the streets of the town, which were by this time filled with pale and excited citizens, who could not imagine what the trouble was about, and did not know which way to run for safety, and so out into the country, where the avenging shells could not reach them. A Confederate veteran who was present and witnessed the bombardment told the writer that the Home Guards "deliberately rode into the midst of the fleeing inhabitants, selecting groups of terrified women and children, into whom they galloped, trampling many of them under the feet of their horses, trusting that the humane and chivalrous blue-jackets, who had been so lenient with the insulting rabble at New Orleans, would not follow them with their fire." We believe this to be nothing but the truth; but whether it is or not the fact remains that Lambert and his men kept to the crowded streets as long as they could, and the bursting shells followed them through every turn they made, but unfortunately without doing them the least damage. Those who ought to have been severely punished got off scot free, while the innocent inhabitants suffered in wounds and loss of property, for their town was set on fire in half a dozen different places.

The Home Guards spread the utmost consternation among the farmers who lived along the line of their hurried flight, and who ran out to the road and vainly implored the frantic horsemen to draw rein long enough to tell them what the firing was about, and if the Yankees were coming at last to burn them out of house and home. But it was not until the roar of the big guns ceased entirely, and the Home Guards were satisfied that they had ridden beyond the reach of any stray shell which might be sent after them, that those who were leading in the retreat recovered their courage sufficiently to slacken their speed so that their comrades in the rear could come up. Then they were willing to talk to the planters along the road, but it is doubtful if they gave them much reliable information. In response to one frightened citizen's hurried inquiries, Lieutenant Lambert said:

"We uns have been in just the worst fight we ever was in before in all our born days, and if anybody but me had been in command the most of us would have left our bones there behind the levee. It was awful to see the way them Yanks fired into them women and children."

"But what started the rucus in the first place?" asked the planter, who, rebel that he was, could not believe that the blue-jackets had turned demons all on a sudden. "What have you Mooreville ruffians, who haven't any business in this part of the country anyway, been doing in the city?"

"You better ask what them Baton Rouge Yankees been doing?" retorted Lambert hotly. "We're State troops, and we've got business in every part of the country that we please to go; and when it pleases the Baton Rouge people to start a nest of Yankee sympathizers in there, it's our bounden duty to go in and break it up. And that's just what we have done. We've drove the enemy away, and the Mississippi between New Orleans and Memphis belongs to we uns once more. We'd a' whopped 'em worse'n we did if it hadn't been for Ike Spencer, who let his gun shoot itself off before the rest of us were ready. I reckon he feels kinder sneakin' over it, fur I aint seen him since."

"I should think you would all feel sneaking," answered the planter, as he turned on his heel and moved away. "If you have kicked up a row on the river I hope you will suffer for it. We've had peace and quiet in this part of the country for a few weeks back, and now you have gone and brought war and all its miseries on us again. The last one of you ought to be hanged."

Lieutenant Lambert and his Home Guards were amazed to find that this angry citizen voiced the sentiments of all the people who lived on the Mooreville road; and after a few more planters had talked to them in this plain fashion their eyes were opened to the disagreeable fact that they had damaged their own cause a great deal more than they had hurt the enemy; and that if their friends and neighbors felt the same way toward them the fire that had been poured into their ranks by the gunboats was nothing to what they would have to stand when they reached home. When they came to think it all over they were the maddest lot of men that had ever been seen in that part of the country. They blamed their lieutenant for being the cause of it, and swore at him so lustily that he fell behind and rode alone, putting in his time by wishing a good many heavy penalties to the address of his one-legged friend Abner, who, after the experience he had had with Yankees, ought to have known better than to advise him to "pester" the gunboats. All the Home Guards rode slowly, so as to reach the outskirts of Mooreville a little after nightfall, and then they separated and slunk away toward their respective homes like school-boys who had been playing truant. But the news had got ahead of them, and an indignation meeting was being held in the dining room of the hotel. Some of the Mooreville people, Captain Randolph among the number, had seen and talked with men who lived down the river road and had heard the roar of the big guns, and mounted messengers had been sent to the city to learn what the firing was about. These men, who had fast horses and went across lots, rode all the way at top speed, and to such good purpose that they returned to Mooreville about two hours before the Home Guards came straggling in; and the story they told to the crowd at the hotel raised such a storm of indignation that for a while things looked serious.

In the meantime, and to make matters worse, the news spread through the country round about and armed planters came flocking in to lend assistance in driving back the force that was supposed to be advancing upon Mooreville; and the climax was reached when wagons began arriving from the direction of the river, drawn by panting mules that had been driven until they were almost exhausted, and loaded with the families and household effects of the frightened owners who were fleeing before the invading Federals. Of course the very meagre information these people brought added to the excitement and alarm, for there were not two among them who told the same story. They expected to find the town deserted by its inhabitants, and were much surprised to discover that it was not.

"It's no use for you fellows to think of standing against them," exclaimed one trembling driver, who carried in his hand a frayed ox-gad which he had worn out over his mules' backs. "Butler is coming with his whole army."

"Did you see them?" inquired Mr. Gray, who had ridden in with Ned Griffin for a companion. They were both armed, and although they did not believe in shooting at those who carried the Old Flag, they were ready to do what they could to protect their homes.

"Yes, sir; I saw them," replied the man earnestly. "I hadn't left my house a quarter of a mile behind before I discovered some of their cavalry riding along one of my lanes. I suppose my house is in ashes by this time."

"Were they burning things as they came?" asked one of Mr. Gray's neighbors.

"There was the blackest smoke over toward the river that I ever saw in my life," was the answer. "Baton Rouge is gone up. You'd better leave while you can. You may save your lives, but you can't save your property. Get along there, mule! Me and mine will take to the brush."

Every story to which Mr. Gray and Ned Griffin listened was more thrilling than the one that came before it. Among others they found a man who lived in the outskirts of the city, and who, standing in his back door, had seen a bench which supported twenty-five stands of bees demolished by a shell from the gunboats. Still another had fled from his house just in time to escape capture by Butler's advance infantry, which was moving up the road in platoon front; and more than that, the highway was blue with Federals as far as his eye could reach. Of course such tales as these frightened some of the Mooreville people, but Mr. Gray assured his young companion that he put very little reliance upon them.

"These folks are not responsible for what they tell us, because they are scared out of their wits," was what he said to Ned Griffin more than once. "What would the Federals gain by capturing or destroying two little towns like Baton Rouge and Mooreville? If there was a fort or a body of Confederate troops here I might put some faith in these rumors; but now I don't. When our couriers return we shall have the straight of the story, and not before. Have you seen anything of our Home Guards, who ought to be mustering for our defence?"

No, Ned hadn't seen them; and when he came to ride about the town and make inquiries he could not find anybody else who had seen them. The truth was they were too badly frightened to show themselves, for they were afraid that they might be called upon to do something. Captain Tom's uniform was in its old hiding place in the garret, and Tom himself was stretched out on the lounge in his mother's room, eager for news and dreading to hear it, but too ill to mount his horse and muster his men for the defence of the town.

At length two of the Mooreville messengers returned, and then the citizens got "the straight of the story." When they learned that General Butler's army had not moved out of New Orleans at all, that not a Federal soldier had stepped upon the sacred soil of Louisiana in the neighborhood of Baton Rouge during the whole of that day, and that the city had been shelled and partially burned because Lieutenant Lambert of Tom Randolph's Home Guards had tried to gain a little cheap notoriety for himself by firing upon an unarmed boat—when the citizens heard this their fear give way to the wildest rage; and if they could have got their hands upon Lambert at that moment it is more than probable that they would have handled him roughly. With one accord the crowd surged up the steps that led to the hotel porch and through the wide hall into the dining room, which was quickly filled with men who had about made up their minds that the Home Guards had made them trouble enough, and that it would be a good plan to get rid of them without loss of time.

"Of all the senseless acts I ever heard of this last one of Lambert's is the beat," shouted an excited individual who had perched himself upon one of the tables. "Those Baton Rouge people knew what they wanted, and if it suited them to make friends with the Yankees and trade with them we planters have no business to find any fault with them for it. I would have done the same thing myself."

"Oh, you traitor!" shouted a voice from the farther end of the dining room. "Would you hold communication with the enemies of your flag?"

"Yon shut up, Bill Cummings," retorted the speaker. "If I am a traitor you're another. You've got a sack of Federal salt and some Federal tea and coffee hidden in one of your corn cribs at this moment, and I can prove it. You got them by trading a beef to one of the gunboats down there at Baton Rouge, and you brought them home in your wagon at dead of night, when you thought all your neighbors were fast asleep."

This raised a shout of laughter at the expense of Bill Cummings, but no one said a harsh word to him, for probably there were not a dozen men in the room who would not have been glad to get some of that salt and tea and coffee. Mr. Gray himself was standing in a pair of Federal brogans, and the man next him wore a straw hat that looked exactly like those that Uncle Sam issued to his sailors every month.

"Now, then," continued the man who had taken possession of the table, "I am in favor of taking that ruffian Lambert out of his bed, if he has had time to get there, and giving him such a whipping that he won't get over it as long as the war lasts."

"Let's hang him and be done with him," cried another.

"And while we are dealing with Lambert, don't let's forget Tom Randolph," shouted a third.

"Tom Randolph is in no way to blame for what happened at Baton Rouge," said Mr. Gray, who was one of the few cool and reasonable men there were in the crowd. "He has no more authority over the Home Guards than I have."

"Then I say let's lick him because he hasn't some authority over them so that he can make them behave themselves. What did he organize the company for, anyhow?"

"That is what I should like to know. Now mark my words: there will be a Yankee garrison in Baton Rouge in less than a week, and then our trading will be up stump, for we can't go there any more."

"That's so. What excuse has that man Lambert for living, I'd like to know? Let's bu'st him and the Home Guards up right here and now."

Uttering wild yells of approval, with which were mingled loud calls for ropes and dire threats against the peace of mind and bodily comfort of Captain Tom Randolph, the crowd made a rush for the door, and it was several minutes before Mr. Gray and the cool-headed men who sided with him could make themselves heard above the tumult.

"Be reasonable, gentlemen," urged the former. "Don't let your excitement lead you to do something you will be heartily ashamed of and sorry for to-morrow. You cannot touch those men in the way you suggest, especially Tom Randolph, who is a State officer. Whoop and yell about it all you please," he continued, after the angry shouts of dissent which these words called forth had subsided, "but it is a fact that Tom holds a commission from the Governor, and if you put your hands on him you will go to jail to pay for it. Confederate officers might deal with him, though on that point I am not sure; but private citizens certainly cannot."

These warning words caused a dissension in the ranks of the would-be lynchers at once, and the hubbub that arose all over the room, as well as from the outside, where there was a respectable gathering that had not been able to gain admittance to the dining hall, was almost deafening. Mr. Gray looked troubled as he saw his angry neighbors swaying back and forth and shaking their clenched hands in one another's faces, and presently he stooped and whispered a few hasty words to Ned Griffin, who, after a terrific struggle, managed to work his way through the crowd to the nearest window, by which he made his exit from the building. He was charged with an important duty, and he was anxious to discharge it without loss of time; but the men on the outside insisted on detaining him until he told what was going on in the dining room.

"Honor bright, there isn't anything going on in there that would interest you or anybody else," declared Ned, who knew full well that it would never do to say that there was some talk of lynching Lieutenant Lambert and "bu'sting up" Tom Randolph. "Mr. Gray has been quoting some law, that's all. Let me go, please. I want to tell Mrs. Gray that the excitement is all over."

The men released him and Ned made his way to the hitching rack where he had left his horse, mounted, and galloped off. He made a great show of riding down the road toward Mr. Gray's house, but as soon as he thought he could do so without attracting attention he turned back, and went at top speed toward the plantation on which Lieutenant Lambert found employment as overseer. Paying no heed to the small army of dogs that came out to dispute his advance he rode close to the door of the overseer's house, there being no porch to bar his way, and tapped lightly upon it with the handle of his riding-whip. If he had made a good deal of noise it is probable that he would not have received any response from the solitary occupant of the building, who was thoroughly frightened at what he had done, but totally ignorant of the fact that his life would be in danger if Mr. Gray and his friends failed in their efforts to control the mob at the hotel. The cautious way in which his visitor strove to attract his attention told him that there was something afoot, and he thought it best to answer.

"Who's there?" he demanded, his voice sounding as if it came from under the bedclothes.

"It's I—Ned Griffin," was the reply. "Come to the door so that I can say a word to you without fear of being overheard, and be quick about it. There's not an instant to lose."

This startling announcement brought Lambert out of bed and to the door, which he opened just wide enough to make sure that his visitor was Ned Griffin, and nobody else; and then he opened it so that he could put his head out and look up and down the lane that ran by the house to the negro quarter.

"I am alone," Ned assured him without waiting to be questioned, "and I am here because Mr. Gray sent me. Do you know what you have done by this day's work? You have destroyed a good portion of Baton Rouge and got every white man in the settlement down on you."

"I never——" began Lambert, who was profoundly astonished.

"I am not here to argue the matter," interrupted Ned, "but to tell you that there is a mob in the hotel who are talking strongly of laying violent hands on you. They would have been here before this time if it hadn't been for Mr. Gray and a few others who don't believe in such things; but the gang was about equally divided when Mr. Gray sent me to warn you, and you had better dig out. They are as likely to decide on one thing as another, and you are not safe in this house."

"Great smoke!" gasped Lambert when he began to comprehend the situation. "Where shall I go?"

"Get into your duds and draw a bee-line for the nearest patch of timber. Mr. Gray may be able to hold the mob and he may not; so I say again that you had better dig out."

"I never looked for you to be so good to me, Ned," faltered Lambert, who seemed to be so dazed that he did not realize the necessity of acting quickly.

"Don't thank me; thank Mr. Gray," said Ned hastily. "If it had not been for him I am afraid I should have left you to look out for yourself; for I know how you and Tom Randolph have been working against me. But you can't injure me now, and so I can afford to be magnanimous. Are you going to clear out or not?"

Yes, Lambert thought he had better take a friend's advice and seek safety in flight while the way was open to him; and when Ned heard him say that he wheeled his horse and set off post-haste to carry the same warning and advice to another party whose name had that night been rather unpleasantly mentioned in connection with a sound thrashing. This one was Tom Randolph, who heard his ring at the door but lacked the courage to answer it, for something told him that he would hear disagreeable news if he did. Mr. Randolph answered the bell himself, and the words he listened to almost drove him frantic. Ned did not tell him that the mob had threatened to whip Tom, for, as he afterward said, he couldn't get his consent to go as far as that; but he said enough to put Mr. Randolph into a terrible state of mind. He stamped his feet on the gallery, shook his fists over his head, and wished from the bottom of his heart that every member of the Home Guards had been sent to the front and killed off long ago, and then he went in to tell his wife about it, and leave her to break the news to Tom in any way she thought best. To say that the young man was utterly confounded would be putting it very mildly. He was terribly frightened, of course, and angry as well; but for some reason or other he did not seem to stand so much in fear of personal violence as he did of losing his commission. When his mother had repeated word for word the conversation that took place between Ned Griffin and Mr. Randolph, and Tom had asked a question or two, he jumped to his feet and charged about the room like a caged wild animal.

"There isn't a man in the world who has half the trouble I do," he said, almost tearfully. "That idiot Lambert has broken up the company as completely as though the Yankees had come in and captured every member of it."

"And think of the misery he has brought upon the Baton Rouge people," suggested his mother.

"I don't care a picayune for the Baton Rouge people," said Tom in savage tones. "They ought to have known that they would bring themselves into trouble by being so friendly with the Yankees; but all the same Lambert showed himself a born fool when he fired on that gunboat. I should be glad to see him and every man who went with him conscripted and put where they would have to behave themselves, if I could only get others to fill their places; but that is something I can't do. And if I lose my men I shall have to throw up my commission or go into the army. When I meet them at the enrolling office in the morning I will talk to them in a way they will remember."

But when morning dawned upon his sight after a restless and sleepless night, the captain of the Home Guards had several other things to occupy his mind. First came a committee of twelve stalwart men appointed by the indignant citizens of Baton Rouge, who called at Mr. Randolph's house to inquire what Tom meant by sending a gang of ruffians to their peaceful city to bring destruction upon it, and death and wounds to its quiet inhabitants, in that wanton, useless, and outrageous manner. The scathing denunciation and threats that Captain Tom was obliged to listen to before he and his mother could convince the visitors that he was in no way to blame for it, that he did not know the first thing about it until it was all over, and that the Home Guards had acted on their own responsibility and without orders from him, were things he never forgot; and the only way he could pacify the committee, who seemed determined to have revenge upon somebody before they left town, was by promising to turn his company over to the conscripting officer as soon as he could get to his office. Tom knew when he said it that his Home Guards would refuse to be disposed of in that way, but he was so much afraid of the Baton Rouge men and so anxious to see the last of them, that he would have promised more than that for the sake of inducing them to leave the house.

Although Tom did not know it until afterward, the committee took a little responsibility from his shoulders by calling at Kimberly's store before they went home and telling Captain Roach, in the hearing of some of the Home Guards, that if he did not at once conscript every man who was in any way concerned in Lambert's mad act they would petition the Governor to remove him and put in his place an officer who would attend to his business. And this threat of theirs was what brought some of the Home Guards to Captain Tom's house, where we found them at the beginning of the first chapter.