s. The afternoon light fell on the sandy fields and struck a
polish from the ploughshare, and, as the ploughman passed the brambly
spot again, the buzzards slowly circled up, as if to protest that he
came too near their young.

The long, lean servant, who had waited on the breakfast-table, came out
to Levin and watched his eyes.

"Ploughin', ploughin'," he said. "Levin, I kin show you how to plough: I
can't do it, but you're the man."

"Cyrus, Huldy don't hate you. She says you're the nighest to a friend
she's got."

"Oh, I love her like sugar-cane," the lean, cymlin-headed servant said.
"Tell her I'm goin' to be a great man. I'm goin' to spile the game. They
lick me, but Cy Jeems has courage, Levin."

"Cyrus, tell Huldy all that's goin' on agin her. We don't know nothin'.
You kin go and come an' nobody watches you. Huldy will be grateful fur
it."

Putting his long arms on his knees and bending down, the scullion stared
close to Levin's eyes and whispered, looking towards the field:

"Ploughin'! ploughin'!"

Then, turning partly, and gazing over the old tavern with a look of
wisdom, Cy James whispered again:

"Hokey-pokey! By smoke! an' Pangymonum, too!"

"I reckon he's crazy," Levin thought, as the queer fellow turned and
fled.

It was about three o'clock when the cavalcade was reviewed by Captain
Van Dorn from the porch of the hotel, and it consisted of about twenty
persons, white and black; some riding mules, some horses, and there was
one wagon in the line--the same that had been driven to Cannon's
Ferry--intended for Levin, Joe Johnson, and the Captain. Van Dorn stood
blushing, pulling his long mustache of flax, and resting on his cowhide
whip.

"Dave," he called to a powerful negro, "get down from that mule; you're
too drunk to go. Jump up in his place, Owen Daw!"

The widow's son gladly vaulted on the animal.

"Sorden," continued Van Dorn, "you know all the roads: lead the way!
Whitecar, go with him! We rendezvous at Punch Hall at eight o'clock. The
order of march is in pairs, a quarter to half a mile apart. If any man
acts in anything without orders, or halloos upon the road, he may get
this lash or he may get my knife."

"Captain, where do we feed?" asked a small, wiry mulatto.

"Water at Federalsburg," answered Van Dorn; "feed at the Punch Hall."

They rode off in pairs at intervals of ten minutes; Van Dorn's vehicle
went last. A moment before he departed, Cy James touched the Captain's