Now, the case is different, and, in my opinion, they will
try to make terms before we have a chance to send for aid with which to
wipe them out, as the saying goes."

"Don't ye make no terms," burst in Carson Lee. "They don't deserve 'em."

"We'll see what they have to say, if they do come out," concluded the
major.

The best part of half an hour passed, and during that time everybody
placed his weapon in proper fighting trim again. Lee took one shot at a
face which appeared at a bedroom window and received a shot in return,
but neither took effect. Evidently the guerillas were on the alert.

"I told you so!" Deck felt like saying, when the side door of the
mansion opened and a man waved a white towel toward them. But the major
remained silent, and the man advanced cautiously to the edge of the
veranda. Then the young commander waved his handkerchief in return, and
marched up the lawn to interview the ruffian with the flag of truce.

The fellow was an ugly looking customer, over six feet tall, thin, and
with a face horribly pox-marked. He came swaggering up to within five
yards of Deck and halted.

"Say, don't yer think this game has been played long enough?" he grunted
rather than asked.

"Entirely too long," answered Deck, briefly. He had not yet forgotten
the manner in which he had been addressed at the barn.

"We-uns is ready ter make terms if yer don't ask the earth," continued
the tall guerilla, swinging his lanky arms into a fold. "Wot do yer say
to it?"

"I think you had better make terms."

"Oh, we ain't so terribully skeered, Major. But makin' terms might suit
better all around, thet's all."

"Well, what do you propose?"

"This. You-uns let us withdraw on our hosses to the road an' give us
half a mile start, an' we-uns will leave everything in the house jest as
we found it."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then we'll burn the hull shebang to the ground and take wot comes
arfterward," exclaimed the guerilla, vehemently, and added an expression
I would not care to transcribe to these pages.

"Do you know what will come?"

"A fight most likely," and the guerilla shrugged his bony shoulders.

"Yes, and a heavy one, if our reenforcements arrive in time. And as
commander here I'll promise you that if you harm the house or its
contents in the least, every man captured shall be hung to yonder trees
as an incendiary and thief."

"Ye can't do thet--not to Confed'rit sodgers, Major."

"I don't recognize yo