"It would seem so, sir."

Colonel Winchester sighed.

"An invader is always feared and hated," he said.

"But we do come as enemies," said Dick, "and this feeling toward us can't
be helped."

"That's true. No matter what we do we'll never make any friends here in
one of the Gulf states, the very core of Southern feeling. Dick, take
a squad of men and enter the house. Pennington, you and Warner go with
him."

Dick sprang down instantly, chose Sergeant Whitley first and with the
others entered the great portico. The front door was locked but it was
easy enough to force it with a gun butt, and they went in, but not before
Dick had noticed over the door in large letters the name, "Bellevue."
So this was Bellevue, one of the great cotton plantations of Mississippi.
He now vaguely remembered that he had once heard his uncle, Colonel
Kenton, speak of having stopped a week here. But he could not recall the
name of the owner. Strong for the Union as he was Dick was glad that the
family had gone before the Northern cavalry came.

The house was on a splendid scale inside also, but all the rugs and
curtains were gone. As they entered the great parlor Dick saw a large
piece of paper, and he flushed as he read written upon it in tall letters:

TO THE YANKEE RAIDERS: