"I knows des w'at ter 'spect fum Mad Whately en fum dat ar oberseer
too, but dey fin' me a uggly ole hornet. I got my sting han'y," and
he tapped the butt of a revolver in the breast of his coat. Having
devoured the remnants of the breakfast he darted out and mounted his
horse also.
Mad Whately was coming sure enough, and like a whirlwind. He had
fallen in with the van of the Confederate advance during the night,
and by his representations had induced an early and forced march to
The Oaks. The vigilant Scoville, with his experiences as a scout
fresh in his mind, had foreseen this possibility. He had two plans
in his mind and was ready to act upon either of them.
Rushing through the hallway of the mansion from the rear entrance,
Miss Lou found her kindred on the veranda. They were too excited and
eager to ask where she had been, for the fierce rebel yell had
already been raised at the entrance of the avenue.
"Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Baron, "now we'll see this Yankee scum swept
away."
Apparently he would have good reason for his exultation.
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