of operations changed. Hurrying down the steps he plunged his arm under
the porch and drew forth--a rusty ax. With his weapon over his shoulder
he hastened up on the veranda and stood with his back against the door.




CHAPTER III


The thudding feet came nearer. A bugle call--a rattling of accouterments
and then, from the other side of the hedge, came a half dozen troopers
in blue, led by a Sergeant with a red face and bloodshot eyes.

"This way, boys!" the Sergeant shouted, and at the sound of a harsh,
never-forgotten voice Uncle Billy's grasp on his ax grew tighter. "_I_
know the place--I've been here before. _We'll_ get the liquor and silver
while the Colonel is stealing the horses, eh?" Then his eyes fell on
Uncle Billy and he greeted him with a yell of recognition. "Hello, you
black old ape! Come down and show us where you buried the silver and the
whisky. Oh, you won't? Then I'll come up and get you," and he lurched
forward.

"Look here, white man," Uncle Billy shouted, lifting the rusty ax high
in the air, "you stay whar you is. Ef you come up dem steps I'll split
yo' ugly haid! I know you, Jim Dudley," he cried. "Mars' Cary done give
you _one_ horse whippin', an' ef you hang aroun' here you'll get anudder
one!"

Furious at the recollection of his shame of a few years back when he had