"The men are only joking, Camille; can't you see they are only joking?" said Mr. Tompkins, to soothe his terrified wife.
"You'll find out that we're not joking," said the leader of the band, dismounting and fastening his horse to an ornamental tree on the lawn. Six of his men followed his example, leading their horses inside the gate, and hitching them to the fence or trees.
"Men what do you mean?" said Mr. Tompkins, who took great pride in his shrubbery. "I do not allow horses to be tied near my trees."
"We'll tie you to one of your trees soon and see how you like it, with a dance in the air."
Mrs. Tompkins clung to her husband, half dead with terror, and Irene came hurrying from the house.
"Go back, Camille; go back with Irene, and wait for me in the house," said Mr. Tompkins. "This is nothing serious."
"Ye'll see, sir, if it ain't somethin' serious," said Sergeant Strong, unstrapping a rope from behind his saddle, and uncoiling it. "The law says spies shall suffer death, and we're going to make an example of you, sir."
"Don't suppose I saw ye hangin' 'round our camp, and then shootin' off after sojers at the Junction to come down and lick us! And they just come to-day an' cleaned us most all out, and you shall hang for it." As he spoke he threw one end of the rope over the projecting branch of a large maple tree.
"Those terrible men mean what they say," whispered Irene in Mrs. Tompkins' ear. She had comprehended all in a moment's time. "I will run for the overseer and the field hands."
She turned to fly, but her motive was interpreted, and one of the men seized her around the waist, saying: "No, my purty gal, ye' don't do nothin' o' the kind jist yit awhile."
In vain she struggled to free herself; she was powerless in the man's hands.
Mrs. Tompkins, completely overcome, had fainted.
"Now, boys, we are ready; bring him here," said Sergeant Strong.
Three or four men laid hands on the planter, but he felled them instantly. They did not expect such resistance from a man of his age, and were not prepared for it. It was not until Mr. Tompkins was stunned by a blow from the butt of a rifle that he was secured and bound; he was then led under the tree and the noose thrown over his neck. Mrs. Tompkins lay still and white on the greensward, and Irene was struggling with her captor and screaming for help. No one noticed the horseman who came dashing furiously down the hill.