THE SKIRMISH ON THE HILL ROAD

Brown Kipps leaped over the seat, and acted as though he was in a hurry to reach Deck Lyon, after he had explained the desperate deed he had contemplated; and the latter thought the movement indicated violence on the part of the foreman.

"Halt where you are, Kipps! Don't come any nearer!" exclaimed Deck; and the revolver in his hand enforced his command.

"Don't shoot, sonny! I only wanted to catch you by the hand, and shake it with right good will," replied Kipps, as he halted where the carbine and sabre of the young cavalryman were lying between his two feet. "I b'lieve what you been tellin' on us; and I reckon it's right lucky some on us on this front seat ain't all ready to be put in the ground."

"I assure you that I have told you the exact truth," said Deck, as he dropped his revolver to his side.

The moment he did so Kipps stooped as quick as a flash and picked up the carbine.

"Don't shoot, little one!" he continued, as the prisoner raised his weapon again, ready to meet this new combination in front of him.

Deck realized that he must act quick, and he was in the very act of firing at the foreman when he spoke. He looked his opponent in the eye; but the bridge-burner did not bring the carbine to his shoulder. He had grasped it near the muzzle, and he held it with the stock hanging down; but he proceeded no farther than this, and the revolver pointed at the head of Kipps, ready to fire if he elevated the piece. He was in doubt. The words of the foreman did not indicate that he meant violence; he felt that he had chance enough to save himself by shooting his opponent before he could bring the carbine to bear upon him. But perhaps this was the most exciting moment in the lifetime of the young soldier.

"Don't shoot, sonny!" repeated Kipps, still holding the carbine in a position that rendered it entirely useless; and as he spoke he advanced towards his prisoner.

"Don't come any nearer, Kipps, or there will be a breathless body in this wagon!" exclaimed Deck, with vim enough to convince the other that he was in dead earnest.

"I won't come no nearer, if you say so, Lyons. I was only go'n' to bring this shootin'-iron and give it back to you, jest to show you that I was right friendly-like to you; and I wanted to catch you by the hand, 'cause I believe you could 'a' killed some or all on us if you'd had a mind to. I reckon we won't quarrel after you've held up when you mou't have stuck some on us."

"Drop that carbine, Kipps, and then I can better understand what you mean," replied Deck.

"That's what's the matter, is it? I was only go'n' to give it back to you," protested the foreman, as he let go of the piece; and it dropped upon the loading of the wagon.

Deck lowered his revolver to his side; and Kipps climbed over the bundles, boxes, tools, and cans, till he was within reach of his late prisoner, for he seemed no longer to regard him as such. He extended his big hand to the cavalryman, whose right still firmly held his weapon, and he took the hand of the other with his left.

"That's a right-down honest Tennessee fist, Lyons, and the gizzard always goes with it," said he, as he squeezed the hand of Deck till he was on the point of crying out with the pain of the cracking bones. "There's that cheese-knife and shooter of yourn, and you can take 'em as soon as you get ready. You're a Yankee; but you've sunthin' more'n a rock for a gizzard."

"There's my hand in yours, Kipps; it's the left, but that is nearest to the heart," replied Deck, now fully trusting the Tennesseean, as he thrust the revolver into his pocket, satisfied that he should have no further use for it at present.

"You've got a rayle Tennessee gizzard in your bowels, Lyons, and I like you. If anybody wants to do you an ill turn, he's got to fight Brown Kipps, sure," added the foreman.

"And the rest on us," put in Tom Lobkill.

"That's so," chimed in Lank Rablan. "We ain't none on us gone dead yet; and if you hadn't got a gizzard tucked away somewhar in your bowels, some on us mou't 'a' been on t'other side o' Jordan's swellin' flood."

"Here's your tools, Lyons," continued Kipps, as he brought the sabre and carbine to Deck. "Here's the trimmin's that goes along with 'em, and you can rig yourself out jest as you was when I fust laid eyes on you."

As he spoke he took from his pockets the belt, sling, and other articles belonging to his equipment. Deck seated himself on the box again, and, after he had adjusted them, he put them on. He turned his back to his companions in the wagon, and restored his revolver to the hook where he carried it; for he did not care to show them where it had been concealed.

"I suppose you don't intend to carry me any farther, Kipps," said Deck, when he had fully accoutred himself for a march; and he hoped to be in the ranks of his company within a couple of hours.

With his companions, he believed the bridge had been destroyed, and that his father had failed in the principal object of his mission, though he had defeated the enemy in every engagement in which he had met them.

"I reckon you can go jest where you like, and kerry that gizzard o' yourn with you," replied Kipps. "I'm only sorry you're a Yankee, for you've behaved handsome enough to be a Tennesseean."

"I am equally sorry you are not all four Union soldiers, standing up like true men for your country and its government," replied Deck.

"I reckon we'd better not talk on that subject, for we can't agree, nohow," answered the foreman, as he went to the front of the wagon. "Now you can git out at this end, for t'other's locked."

This was a happy conclusion of the whole matter; and Deck realized that he had accomplished more by the course he had adopted than if he had carried out his cold-blooded intention to shoot his custodians. He went to the front, and Kipps assisted him to alight; for his weapons interfered with his movements in descent.

"Where are we now, my friends?" asked Deck, as he looked about him.

"I don't know, no more'n a goose in a poke," replied Kipps. "We've come some miles, more or less, from the railroad; and this is the road we come down on. Where are we, Jube?" he demanded of the negro driver.

"I reckon we's here, Mars'r Kipps," replied the driver with a grin from ear to ear.

"I reckon so too; but whar's here, Jupiter?"

"Donno whar you be, Mars'r!" exclaimed the negro, who seemed to think the foreman was joking with him.

"I don't know whar I am, Jube; do you?" replied Kipps, looking about him to identify anything in the surroundings.

"I know for sartin; we done come dis way befo', Mars'r. Dis is jest de place whar we done struck in de field to find de roleraid," replied the driver confidently. "Dis wot de fo'kes here call de hill road."

"But we didn't come over that log before."

"No, sar; dis nigger runn'd ag'in it, and twis' it round."

"I reckon we'd better camp here for the night, and wait for orders," said Kipps, "You can go the way you come, Lyons."

"I don't know that I can find my way," replied Deck. "I have been shut up in your wagon all the way, so that I could see nothing."

"You can foller the wagon-track, and that will fotch you out all right," added Lank.

But Deck was in doubt about returning to the railroad. He knew that Lieutenant Belthorpe had been sent over to the railroad, and he had seen the troopers ride up the embankment. He thought it strange that he had not encountered his force; and he proceeded, Indian fashion, to examine the road for horse-tracks in the sand. The sod was so tough that it bore no indentation inside of the log; but in the road he found plenty of horseshoe marks, and he proceeded to study them.

They all indicated that the riders were headed to the south, or in the direction of the east road, the latter of which led to the camp and cross-roads. Was it possible that Belthorpe had returned to the camp? This was what the marks suggested. Deck then walked by the log, and found the track extended towards the north. He followed them for about a quarter of a mile, and then he found where they began on the road.

At this point he found the fence had been thrown down, and there were plenty of horse-tracks in the cornfield which it surrounded. These led up from the direction of the railroad. In the soft ground he found, on the left of the great body of the marks, which indicated that the detachment had marched by fours, the print of a bar shoe, often called a round shoe. He was aware that Tom Belthorpe rode a horse shod in this manner, for the steed had belonged in the stable of the planter of Riverlawn.

His investigation proved that not only a company of cavalry had come up from the railroad to the highway, but that it was the force under command of the first lieutenant of the first company. He returned to the highway, wondering what had become of this detachment. But Deck did not know that a portion of the Texan Rangers had come down the hill road, as reported by the scouts of the squadron. He hastened back to the place where he had left the wagon. As he approached it he saw two mounted Rangers talking with the bridge-burners, or rather with the foreman of them; and the other three were helping the driver to hitch on his mules, for they had begun their preparations to camp there for the night.

The two scouts turned their horses and rode away in the direction from which they had come. Deck had halted when he saw them, and put himself behind a big tree at the side of the road. But as soon as they rode off at a gallop, as though they were in a hurry, he advanced. The bridge-burners were all busy in getting the mules ready for a start.

"You better make tracks with all your legs towards the railroad, sonny," said Kipps earnestly.

"What has turned up now?" asked Deck with interest.

"Them men was the scouts of our company, and we are ordered to move to the north with all the speed we can get out of the mules," continued Kipps. "Our company, or a part on't, will be here soon; and I don't want 'em to ketch you, Lyons, for I can't do nuthin' for you if they get hold on you."

"All right, Kipps; and I am very much obliged to you for your kind service. But where are you going?" asked Deck.

"I don't know no more'n the dead. I'm to foller this road, and I hain't the leastest idee whar it'll fetch out," replied the foreman, as he took his place on the front seat, and Jube started the unwilling team.

The driver plied his whip with cruel vigor, and the wagon soon disappeared. Deck was perplexed. Belthorpe had marched up the hill road, as indicated by the tracks of the horses, and the Rangers were marching down the same road. How did it happen that they had not met, and a fight had not ensued? He could not explain it. Just above him was a grove, or a field covered with sparsely scattered trees.

Deck was very anxious to ascertain the situation of affairs in this section, and he hoped to be able to give his father some important information when he met him. He placed himself behind a tree in the grove. He had hardly secured his position before he heard the clatter of horses' hoofs and the clangor of sabres in the road above him. In a minute he obtained a view of them, and they were Rangers. They were hurrying their horses as though they were engaged in some important movement.

The troops had not come abreast of the observer before he heard a furious yell in the grove not far from him. The shout of "Riverlawn!" was heard, with other yells; and a body of the Union cavalry dashed into the road, and fired a volley from their carbines.

"Sling carbines! Draw sabres!" shouted an officer; and Deck recognized the well-known voice of Tom Belthorpe. Then they charged into the enemy with a fury that promised to annihilate them in a very short time.

Deck belonged in this portion of the first company; but he had no horse, and he could not join in the charge; but he began to use his carbine. The Texans fought bravely and desperately, and the two forces seemed to be about equal. The interested observer saw one of his company topple over from his horse, and the excited animal dragged him, with one foot, in the stirrup, off the field. Deck caught the horse, and reduced him to subjection with a vigorous arm. He released the soldier, who was insensible, and placed him under a tree. Then he mounted the steed, and dashed into the fight.

He had hardly struck a blow with his sabre before he heard the clanging of sabres some distance in the rear. At the head of it was the officer in command, with one arm in a sling, and his head tied up with bandages. They were Texan cavalry, without a doubt; and Deck called the attention of the lieutenant to the fact.