A Lieutenant at Eighteen Part 32

"My sons are riflemen, and they are dead shots at a long distance,"

said the colonel.

"I am aware of that, for I have seen them shoot with the rest of Captain Ripley's men. I think we had better be on the march," added the lieutenant. "We will send out a couple of pickets to feel the way for us. Sergeant Fronklyn shall go for one, and with him one of your sons, to show him the way and explain the situation."

"Warren shall accompany him, and can give him all the information he needs," the planter decided.

The sergeant and the planter's son started the horses, and rode off at full gallop; but they did not continue at this speed for more than half-way to the top of the hill, and they soon disappeared at a bend in the avenue. Deck and the rest of the party followed.

"I think we had better leave our horses here," said Fronklyn, as he reined in his steed. "The sound of the horses' feet may betray us."

"I obey your orders, Sergeant; but the villains will not hear us at this distance," replied Warren Hickman. "I have no doubt they are looking for the money in the house."

At this suggestion they rode some distance farther; and, turning another bend, Fronklyn discovered a three-story building at what appeared to be the end of the avenue. He stopped his horse, and was decidedly opposed to riding any farther. He could not yet see the mansion; but through the trees he saw several other buildings.

"What is the three-story house?" asked the sergeant.

"That is the stable; but it is built on the side of the hill, and there are only two stories on the front," replied Warren.

Both of the riders dismounted; and, after securing the horses to the trees, they walked to the stable. The lower part was a cellar in the side-hill, and appeared to be used as a place for storage. The planter's son led the way into this apartment, and then mounted the stairs leading to the middle story. There were half a dozen horses there, and stalls for as many more. The doors were wide open, and the pickets, or scouts, moved about very carefully.

Warren then looked out of the doors and windows; but not a person could be seen, except some negro men and women, who appeared to be skulking about the premises, apparently ready to run away in case of danger. The sergeant and the rifleman had both unslung their firearms, and were ready for business if they discovered any of the marauders. The planter's son then ascended to the hayloft, and from the windows there surveyed all that could be seen of the premises from them.

"We don't get ahead much," said Warren, as he descended the stairs. "I must get at one of the servants, though they all seem to keep out of harm's way."

"It is time for us to know the situation here," replied Fronklyn, as he followed his companion down the stairs.

As a matter of precaution, Warren closed the great doors, though a smaller one was left open on one side of them. They found that all the horses in the stable were saddled and bridled for use. While he was wondering what this meant, a dozen blacks rushed in through the open door. They seemed to be greatly alarmed.

Adjoining the stable on each side were the carriage-houses; and Warren hastened into one of them, supposing that the marauders were pursuing them; but no enemy followed them. The negroes went into the stalls, and began to lead out the horses.

"What does all that mean, Warren?" asked Fronklyn in a whisper.

"I don't know," replied the planter's son, as he c.o.c.ked his rifle, and returned to the stable. "What are you about here?" he demanded.

"Mars'r Warren!" exclaimed several of them.

"What are you going to do with the horses, Phil?" asked Warren.

"Who shut the big doors, Mars'r Warren?" asked Phil, who appeared to be an upper servant of some kind.

"What are you going to do with the horses, Phil?" exclaimed the planter's son angrily.

"I thought the robbers had got into the stable, and I wanted to save the horses," replied the servant, breaking down at the tone of the master's son.

"You are lying, Phil! You would not have dared to come into the stable if you had supposed the robbers were here."

"We was gwine to run away on de hosses," added a very black fellow.

"Don't know who shut de big doors, Mars'r, if de robbers don't do it,"

said another, who was evidently a field-hand.

"I didn't think there was more'n one of them here," added Phil, as he held up a revolver with which he had armed himself after the departure of the planter. "I meant to kill him, and get away with the horses."

"Perhaps you would have done so."

"I do it for sure."

"Now, where are the robbers?" asked Warren.

"In the house. We don't see any for more'n half an hour. I think they looked part of the house over to find the money, and then went up-stairs to hunt for it," replied Phil, who appeared to be an intelligent fellow, far superior to the rest of them.

"Very well; you may get on the horses, and ride down the avenue till you meet the colonel," added the son of the planter. "Now, Sergeant, we will find the condition of things in the house."

The negroes led all the horses down an inclined plane into the cellar.

This was not an uncommon device in large cities to economize s.p.a.ce; but the planter had caused it to be built for just such an emergency as the present, and he had made his escape in this manner from the estate. The terrified servants mounted the horses in the cellar, and entered the avenue by the way Warren and the sergeant had left it.

The two scouts pa.s.sed out of the stable by the same door. Keeping behind the outbuildings, they reached the side of the mansion. Pa.s.sing entirely around it, they looked in at every window very cautiously; but were unable to see a single guerilla on the lower floor. By an outside door they went into the cellar of the dwelling. They found several places where the earth had been dug up, but not a man was to be seen.

"Now, Warren, I am going up-stairs; and I should like to have you return to the avenue, and bring up the rest of our party as quickly as possible," said Fronklyn in a low tone.

"Up-stairs!" exclaimed the planter's son. "Do you mean to throw away your life?"

"Not if I know myself; but I wish the lieutenant was here," replied the sergeant, who had noted the stairs that led to the next floor.

"I will do as you say, Sergeant; but I hardly expect to find you alive when I come back," answered Warren.

"I believe I can take care of myself; and I think these ruffians have put themselves just where we want them," said Fronklyn, recalling the strategy at Mr. Halliburn's mansion.

Warren left the cellar by the same way they had entered, and made his way around the out-buildings to the avenue. Fronklyn stole up the stairs, after he had removed his shoes, and looked into half a dozen rooms on the first floor. The carpets had been partly torn up, the furniture overturned and broken up, the closets ransacked, and abundant other evidence that the search for money or other valuables had been completed in this part of the mansion.

On the floors of the second story he could hear the tramp of shoes, the cracking and snapping of furniture, and the rough speech of coa.r.s.e men.

The search for money was still in progress; and the planter's son was sure the marauders would not find that which they were seeking. The money might be safe, but that was certainly not the case with the mansion and furniture.

In the great hall, in a corner behind the front door, the sergeant found a large steel safe, with its door wide open, and entirely empty.

The planter had evidently removed his valuables, including his books and papers, to what he believed was a more secure depository for them.

The robbers had drawn it out from the corner, plainly to search behind it for the hidden treasure. Fronklyn opened the front door of the mansion, and then deposited himself behind the safe, the house door concealing him on the open side.

His carbine was in condition for immediate use, and he had taken a revolver from the horse he had ridden belonging to the trooper who had perished in the river. The noise up-stairs continued, and he had become somewhat impatient for the appearance of the rest of the party. He was inclined to "open the ball;" but he concluded that it would be a piece of rashness for him to do so, and he refrained from doing anything.

Between the door and the safe he obtained a full view of the head of the staircase.

"There comes the planter!" shouted some one in the hall above.

"Hang him!" yelled another.

"Down-stairs all together!" cried the first speaker, who was perhaps the leader of the ruffians.

He was the first to appear at the landing. Several voices repeated the cry to hang the colonel. At that moment a shot was heard, and the first ruffian came tumbling down the steps. The next instant the one behind him shared his fate, and both of them lay motionless at the foot of the stairs.

A moment later Deck rushed in through the open door, followed by the three riflemen.