"What do you think there is back of it?" inquired his father.
"I can't imagine, unless there is some sort of an arrangement existing between him and the Confederate authorities at New Orleans," replied Rodney. "The Governor lets on that he is strongly in favor of independent organizations, but he don't act as if he was."
Rodney showed Dick's letter to Captain Hubbard, who posted off to Baton Rouge with, it; but he got no satisfaction there. There had been no such Military Bill passed in Louisiana, the Governor said, and there was no need of it, the situation there and in Missouri was so different. The latter State was exposed to "invasion" (by which he meant that Captain Lyon's small company of regulars was likely to be reinforced), but Louisiana was so protected on all sides that Lincoln's hirelings could not get at her if they tried.
"Then he wouldn't assume control of the company?" said Rodney.
"No, he wouldn't. I had a personal interview with him at his own house and did some of my best talking; but it was no use. He was non-committal—that was the worst of it, and I—Say," added the captain, in an undertone, "I have sorter suspected that he meant to turn us over to the Confederacy."
"That's what I have thought for a good while," said Rodney.
"Yes," continued the captain. "So I thought I might as well give him to understand that we were not going to allow ourselves to be turned over as long as we remained free men. I showed him your friend's letter, and hinted pretty strongly that if we could not swear obedience to the Governor of our own State, the Governor of another State might be willing to accept us, and you ought to have seen him open his eyes."
"What did he say?"
"He said he hoped that I wouldn't think of doing such a thing as that, but if I did, he would have to revoke my commission."
"Who cares if he does?" exclaimed Rodney. "Let him revoke it if he wants to, and you can get another from Governor Jackson."
"That's what I thought. Now, I'll tell you what we'll do—at least we'll hold a secret meeting after drill and propose it to the boys. Suppose you telegraph to your chum's father—you know where to find him and you don't know where to find Dick Graham and ask him if General Price will accept our services, leaving us our independent organization, provided we will take the oath to obey the Governor of Missouri."
"I'll do it," answered Rodney. "And if you will postpone the drill for half an hour I will ride into town and attend to it at once. It's the only thing we can do and keep out of the Confederate army. Dog-gone the Confederacy. The State is the one I want to serve."
Rodney rode into Mooreville at a gallop, wrote out the dispatch and stood at the desk while Drummond, the operator, sent it off. Although the latter looked surprised he did not say anything; but while Rodney was on his way back to camp, a copy of his dispatch was on its way to Baton Rouge.
In accordance with Captain Hubbard's programme a secret meeting of the company was held after the drill was over, but it turned out that the members were not so strongly in favor of the captain's plan as he and Rodney thought they were going to be. While the Rangers fully determined to preserve their independent organization, they were not willing to give their services to the governor of another State. There was a dead-lock developed at once; and it was finally decided that the best thing they could do would be to adjourn until Rodney had received a reply to his dispatch. Perhaps General Price would not take them, and that would end the matter. If he would, why then, they could call another meeting and decide what they would do about it.
The next day their uniforms came up from New Orleans, and on the afternoon of the day following there was a grand drill and dress parade commanded by Captain Hubbard in person. The spectators, if we except the Randolph family, were delighted with it, and Rodney told his father privately that he had seen many a worse one at the Barrington Academy. Rodney didn't want to say so out loud, of course, for he was the drill-master; but it was not long before he discovered that the Rangers knew whom to thank for their proficiency, and that they fully appreciated the patient and untiring efforts he had made to bring them into military form. When the ranks had been broken after dress parade, and the Rangers and their invited guests thronged into the grove behind the tents to make an assault upon the well-loaded tables they found there, the deputy sheriff, the man with the stentorian voice, who was a private in the company, sprang upon the band-stand, commanded attention, and afterward shouted for Sergeant Rodney Gray to come forward. As the boy wonderingly obeyed, the Rangers and their guests closed about the stand and hemmed it in on all sides. Captain Hubbard had taken up a position there, and when Rodney halted in front of him and took off his cap, the latter began a speech, thanking the young sergeant for what he had done for the company, and begging him to accept a small token of their respect and esteem.
"Take it, friend Rodney," said the captain, in conclusion. "Keep it to remind you of the pure gold of our friendship which shall never know alloy. And while we sincerely trust that it may never be drawn except upon peaceful occasions of ceremony, we are sure you will not permit it to remain idle in its scabbard while the flag of our Young Republic is in danger, or your good right arm retains the power to wield it."
The captain stepped back, and the thoroughly astonished Rodney stood holding in his hands an elegant cavalry sabre. He stared hard at it, and then he looked at the expectant crowd around the band-stand.
"Speech, speech!" yelled the Rangers.
But the usually self-possessed Barrington boy was past speech-making now. He managed to mumble a few words of thanks, got to the ground somehow and mingled with the crowd as quickly as possible.
"How very surprised he is," sneered Tom Randolph, who told himself regretfully that a sword like that might have been presented to him if he had only remained with the company. "I will bet my horse against his that he knew a week ago that he was going to get it."
Rodney waited four days before he received a reply to the dispatch he sent to Dick Graham's father, and seeing that the authorities had assumed control of the wires, and the operator at Mooreville was a government spy, it was rather singular that he got it at all. It ran as follows:
"Price will accept. Company officers and independent organization to remain the same."
"I tell you Missouri is the best State yet," said Rodney, handing the telegram over to Captain Hubbard. "This brings the matter squarely home to the boys, and they've got to decide upon something this very night."
And they did, but it was only after a stormy and even heated discussion. The captain and Rodney carried their point but it was by a very small majority of votes; and the former, believing it advisable to strike while the iron was hot, took one of his lieutenants and started for New Orleans to engage passage for his company to Little Rock. It was at this juncture that Rodney wrote that letter to his cousin Marcy Gray, a portion of which we gave to the reader in the first volume of this series. You will remember that he spoke with enthusiasm of the "high old times" he expected to have "running the Yankees out of Missouri." Well, he had all the opportunities he wanted, but they were not brought about just as he thought they were going to be.
The captain and his lieutenant were gone two days, and came back to report that the steamers were all so busy with government business that it would be a week or more before they could get transportation; but the captain had left instructions with his cotton-factor who would keep his eyes open, and telegraph him when to expect a boat at Baton Rouge landing. In the meantime the harder they worked the less they would have to learn when they reached the Army of the West. That very afternoon they had a great surprise. The Rangers were going through a mounted drill, acquitting themselves very creditably they thought, when some one in the ranks became aware that they had a distinguished visitor in the person of the Governor of the State, who sat in a carriage looking on. Beside him was a little, dried-up, cross-looking man in fatigue cap and soiled linen duster, who kept making loud and unfavorable comments upon the drill, although he did not look as though he knew anything about it. As soon as Captain Hubbard learned that the Governor was among the spectators, he brought the Rangers into line and rode up to the carriage and saluted.
"Well, captain," said the Governor, nodding in response to the salute. "I am glad to see that you are hard at work and that your men are rapidly improving. Have you a copy of your muster-roll handy?"
The captain replied that he had and the Governor continued—
"Then be good enough to produce it and hand it to this officer who will muster you in. I am not going to let such a body of men as you are go out of the State if I can help it."
"Shall I dismount the men, sir?" asked the captain, addressing the cross-looking little man, who arose to his feet and shook himself together as if he were getting ready for business.
"No," was the surly reply. "We'll drive up in front of the company and I can call the roll while standing in the carriage. It'll not take ten minutes and then you can go on with your drill. I see you need it bad enough."
Captain Hubbard, who was so angry that he forgot to salute, wheeled his horse and rode back to the company.
"Orderly," said he, in an undertone. "Get a copy of your muster-roll and give it to that old curmudgeon in the carriage. He's going to try to muster us in but I doubt if he knows enough. I am glad to see him, however, for when he gets through with us, we shall know right where we stand."
"Say," exclaimed Rodney Gray excitedly, as Captain Hubbard took his place on the right of the company and the orderly galloped off to his tent. "Who is that old party in the Governor's carriage?"
"You can't prove it by me," answered the captain. "I never saw him before, but I know he's a mighty cross-grained old chap."
"May I leave the ranks a minute?" continued Rodney.
"Of course not. What would the Governor think?"
"I don't care a picayune what he thinks," replied Rodney, his excitement increasing as the Governor's carriage began to circle around toward the front and center of the company. "If that man in the fatigue cap and duster isn't General Lacey, all the descriptions I have heard of him are very much at fault."
"And do you really believe," began the captain, who was profoundly astonished.
"I don't believe, I know that he means to muster us into the Confederate service," interrupted Rodney. "Hold on a minute before you do a thing or let a man answer to his name. My father knows him by sight."
Without again asking permission to leave his place, Rodney put his horse in motion and rode over to the tree under whose friendly shade Mr. Gray was sitting while he watched the drill.
"Father," said he, speaking rapidly and panting as if he had been running instead of riding, "who is that in the carriage with the Governor? Is it General Lacey?"
Mr. Gray nodded and looked up at his son as if to ask him what he was going to do about it.
"Well, he has come here to muster us in, and the orderly has gone after the roll-book," continued Rodney. "The general is a Confederate officer, and if we let him muster us in, he will make Confederate soldiers of us, won't he?"
"That's the way it looks from where I sit," answered Mr. Gray.
"It's the way it looks from where I sit too, and I just won't have any such trick played upon me," said Rodney, hotly. "I know what I want and what I want to do; and as long as I am a free man, nobody shall make me do anything else."
"Are you going to back out?"
"I am. I'll not answer to my name when it is called. I'll go back and put the other fellows on their guard, and then I'll fall out."
So saying Rodney wheeled his horse and returned to his company, which he found in a state of great excitement. The ranks were kept pretty well aligned (the horses knew enough to look out for that now), but the men were twisting about in their saddles, each one comparing notes with every one else whose ears he could reach. When Rodney rode up they all turned to look at him and listen to his report, regardless of the fact that the little man in the brown ulster was standing up in the Governor's carriage shouting "Attention!" at the top of his wheezy little voice.
"Mind what you are doing, boys," said Rodney, as he rode slowly along the line behind the rear rank. "That's General Lacey. Don't answer to your names unless you want to be sworn into the Confederate service."
"But what shall we do?" inquired one or two of the timid members, who thought they might be obliged to answer whether they wanted to or not.
"Keep mum and say nothing," replied Rodney. "Watch me and do as I do. My name is second on the roll."
"Are you ever going to come to attention so that I can get through with my business and go back where I belong?" yelled the general, as soon as he could make himself heard. "A pretty lot of soldiers you are; but I warn you that you will have to mind better than this when you reach the camp of instruction, to which I shall immediately order you. Attention to roll-call! George Warren!"
"He—er—here!" replied the orderly, hesitatingly.
The Rangers were amazed, and Captain Hubbard glared at the frightened sergeant as though he had half a mind to knock him out of his saddle. The captain had told the man in the most emphatic language not to answer to his name, and yet he had gone and given away his liberty for the next twelve months. It served him right for being so stupid.
"You blockheads don't seem to understand what I want and what I am trying to do," shouted the general, wrathfully. "All you who volunteer for the Confederate service answer to your names, and speak up so that I can hear you. I hope that is sufficiently plain.George Warren!"
The Rangers, one and all, drew a long breath of relief and felt like giving a hearty cheer. Their comrade had most unexpectedly been allowed a chance for escape, and he was sharp enough to take advantage of it. He kept his eyes straight to the front and said nothing. The general looked surprised, but as he was in a great hurry he passed on to the next.
"Rodney Gray!"
This time there was no mistaking the answer. The sergeant moved from his place on the left of the line, rode to the center of the company, came to a front and saluted. The general opened his lips to tell him that he needn't come to the front and center in order to answer to his name, but the Barrington boy was too quick for him.
"General," said he, while all the Rangers strained their ears to catchhis words. "I am ready at any time to be sworn into the service of myState, but I do not wish to join the Confederate army. I am a PartisanRanger."
"A—a—what?" vociferated the general, now thoroughly aroused. He was a Mexican veteran, a thorough soldier as well as a martinet, and he had never learned to recognize any organizations outside of the regular service.
"A Partisan Ranger," repeated Rodney, who was neither embarrassed nor angered by the covert sneer contained in the general's words.
"A Ranger!" exclaimed the general, raising his hands in the air and turning his eyes toward the clouds. "Shade of the great and good Washington! what are we coming to? A partisan! And are you all partisans?"
"Yes sir, we are; and until very recently we have been encouraged to believe that we could preserve our independent organization."
"You were, eh? Then you had better organize yourselves into Home Guards at once and I will go back to New Orleans. Partisan Rangers!" said the general, who seemed unable to get the obnoxious words out of his mind. "There's your roll-book. Drive on, coachman."
The general flung the book on the ground at the feet of Rodney's horse, threw himself back in his seat and the carriage moved rapidly away. The Rangers sat motionless in their saddles until it passed through the gate and disappeared behind the trees in the grove, and then they turned and looked at one another.
"We know where we stand now at all events," said Captain Hubbard, riding up in front of the line, and throwing his right leg over the horn of his saddle in a position most unbecoming a commanding officer. "My commission will be taken from me, and you fellows will be reduced to plain, every-day citizens once more. We might as well quit this nonsense now, and I say, let's pack up and go home."
"I'll go, but I'll not promise to stay there," said Rodney.
"Where will you go?"
"Up to Missouri. I have set my heart on being a partisan, and if my own State won't take me, I have a perfect right to offer my valuable services to another. I shall start for Baton Rouge to-morrow, and I and my horse will take passage on the first St. Louis boat that comes along."
"Hear, hear!" shouted some of the. Rangers.
"Let's go in a body," said one. "We have the assurance that our services will be accepted, that the officers we have elected will be retained, that our plan of organization will not be interfered with, and what more could we ask for?"
"That won't suit me," another declared. "I don't want to leave myState."
"How are you going to help yourself?" demanded Rodney. "If you join theConfederate army you are liable to be ordered up to Virginia or down toFlorida. And you know as well as I do what the people around here willthink of you if you make up your mind to stay at home."
"Let's take the sense of the company on it," suggested LieutenantPercy.
"All right," answered the captain. "Put the thing in the form of a motion and I will."
This was quickly done, and to Rodney's great disappointment, though not much to his surprise, the proposition was defeated by a large majority. The Rangers were opposed to deserting their State in a body and going into another.
"I'll not stay at home, and that's all there is about it," said one of the Rangers who had voted with the minority. "Does anybody here know what course wedowant to pursue? I have my doubts; and in order to test the matter I move you, Mr. Commander, that we offer ourselves as a company to the Confederate States."
The motion was received with such a howl of dissent that if there was a second to it the captain did not hear it. Some of the Rangers, to show what they thought of the proposition, backed their horses out of the ranks and rode away. Among them was Rodney, who returned to the tree under which his father was sitting.
"Isn't it rather unusual for a cavalry company to hold a business meeting on horseback?" inquired the latter, as the boy swung himself from his saddle. "There seems to be a big difference of opinion among the members, and you look as though things hadn't gone to suit you. What have you decided to do?"
"Nothing as a company," replied Rodney. "In fact we are not a company any longer. It is every one for himself now."
"What do you mean by that? Have you disbanded?"
Rodney explained the situation in a few words, adding that he thought he might as well be riding toward home so as to spend all the time he could with his mother, for he was going away bright and early on the following morning. Mr. Gray looked very sober and thoughtful when he heard these words.
"I'd rather you would stay at home," said he.
"And I would much prefer to stay, but I will not go into the service of the Confederacy. This State is an independent Commonwealth now, and is entitled to, and has a right to demand the best service I can give her; but who cares for the Confederacy? I think less of it than I did this morning, for one of its officers tried to rope us in without our consent."
That was Rodney's first experience with the duplicity and utter lack of fair dealing that characterized all the actions of the Confederate authorities, but it was by no means the last. We shall speak of this again when we see him coming down the Arkansas River, bound for the Army of the Center, a Confederate soldier in spite of himself.
Having given his comrades plenty of time to vote upon the last proposition submitted to them that they should offer themselves as a company to the Confederate States Rodney got upon his horse again and rode back to see if they had determined upon any particular course of action, but from all he could learn the matter was far from being settled. Some wanted to do one thing and some were in favor of doing another; but finding at last that they could not agree, they began drawing away by twos and threes, and finally Rodney Gray was left alone with the commissioned officers.
"I am at my wit's end," declared Captain Hubbard, whose face wore a most dejected look. "We don't want to remain at home, and neither do we desire to put ourselves under the control of such a man as General Lacey; but there's nothing else we can do, unless we go up to Missouri. Were you really in earnest when you said you intended to start oft tomorrow?" he added, addressing himself to Rodney. "Your decision was made on the spur of the moment, wasn't it?"
"Well, no. I made up my mind some time ago that there was going to be a hitch of some sort in our arrangements, and laid my plans accordingly."
"How are you going to work it to reach Price's army?" inquired Lieutenant Percy. "Don't you know that there have been rioting and bloodshed in St. Louis, and that the Dutchmen have got control of the city?"
"Of course; but that's all over now. I shall telegraph to Dick Graham's father that I am coming, and trust to luck when I reach St. Louis. Perhaps he can make it convenient to meet me there; if not, I have a tongue in my head and a good horse to ride, and I have no fears but that I shall get through."
"Well, I'll tell you what's a fact," said Lieutenant Odell. "You can go alone for all of me. There's altogether too much danger in the step. You'll never get through the lines without a pass, and how are you going to get it? The first thing you know you will be arrested and shoved into jail."
"I have thought of that," answered Rodney, calmly, "but I'll take my chances on it. It's go there or stay home, and I have decided to go. Good-by, if I don't see you again, and if you hear any of the boys say that they would like to go with me, send them up to the house."
This was said in the most matter of fact way, as if Rodney were going to ride to Baton Rouge one day and come back the next; but they all knew that the parting was for a longer time than that, and each officer thrust his hand into his pocket to find something that would do for a keepsake. Odell handed over a big jack-knife with the remark that the sergeant might find it useful in cutting bacon or breaking up his hard-tack, so that he could crumb it into his coffee. Percy gave him a ring which he drew from his own finger, and the captain presented him with a twenty-dollar gold piece. Then they shook hands with him once more and saw him ride away.
"It's like parting from a younger brother," said the captain, sorrowfully. "I don't see how his father can let him go. But he's got nerve enough to carry him through any scrape he is likely to get into, and besides he is going among friends."
"But he's got the enemy's lines to pass before he can get among friends, and that's one thing that worries me," observed the first lieutenant. "What a determined fellow he is. He ought to make a good soldier."
"Didn't I tell you that that company of Rangers would never amount to a row of pins?" exclaimed Tom Randolph, when the members rode straggling into town that afternoon, and reported that their organization had been knocked into a cocked hat by General Lacey's attempt to muster it into the service of the Confederacy. "I knew by the way the election went that it would bust up sooner or later, and I am heartily glad of it. Now they've got to go into the army, and if I get the second lieutenant's commission I am working for, perhaps I shall be placed over some of the fellows who voted against me. So Gray is going to Missouri, is he? Good riddance. He'll have to go in as private, and that will bring him down a peg or two."
Yes, Rodney calculated to go in as private if he got in at all, but the prospect did not in the least dampen his ardor. Contrary to his expectations his mother did not say one word to turn him from his purpose; but good Southerner that she was, she heartily condemned the circumstances which, according to her way of thinking, made the parting necessary.
"I wish theMayflowerhad been sunk fathoms deep in the ocean before she ever touched Plymouth Rock," she said to her husband. "The spirit of intolerance those Puritans brought over here with them is what is taking our boy from us now. No punishment that I can think of would be too severe for them."
Rodney lived in hopes that some of the company would ride out to see him during the course of the evening, but midnight came without bringing any of them, and the disappointed Barrington boy, giving his mother the last good-night kiss he imprinted upon her lips for more than fifteen long months, went to bed satisfied that he was to be left to work out his own destiny, with no Mooreville friend to encourage or advise him. He slept but little, but appeared at the breakfast table as fresh as a daisy and—dressed in citizen's clothing.
"This is a pill I don't like to swallow," said he, opening his coat and looking down at himself. "I said I wouldn't take off my gray uniform until the South had gained her independence; but I didn't know at the time that I would find it necessary to pass through the enemy's lines. Don't look so sober, mother. I just know I shall come out all right. I'll surely write when I reach St. Louis, and again the very day I find Dick Graham."
That was not a cheerful breakfast table, although every one tried to make it so. Before the meal was half over the family carriage, with Rodney's small trunk inside and his horse hitched behind, drew up at the door, and a crowd of weeping servants gathered about the foot of the wide stone steps to bid "young moster" good-by. Rodney saw it all through the window, and when he got ready to start stood not on the order of going, but cut short the parting and went at once. He arose from his chair before he had finished his second cup of coffee, put on his hat and light overcoat and turned toward his mother.
"Good-by, my dear boy," she said, in tones so firm and cheerful that Rodney was astonished. "Whatever fate may have in store for me, I hope I shall never hear that you failed to do your duty as a soldier."
There were no tears in her eyes—she was past that now—but didn't she suffer?
"The mother who conceals her griefWhile to her breast her son she presses,Then breathes a few brave words and briefKissing the patriot brow she blesses,With no one but her secret GodTo know the pain that weighs upon her—Sheds holy blood as e'er the sodReceived on Freedom's field of honor!"
How many such partings there were all over this fair land of ours, brought about by the ambition of demagogues so few in number that we can count them on our fingers!
Rodney's heart was so full that he could not reply to his mother's brave words. Now that the test had come he found that he had less fortitude than she had. He gave her one kiss, gently disengaged himself from her clinging arms and bolted for the door.
"De good Lawd bless young moster an' bring him safe back," cried the tearful blacks, when he appeared at the top of the steps. "Dem babolitionists aint got no call to come down here an' take him away from us. We-uns never done nuffin' to dem."
"That's just what I say," answered Rodney. "And I am going to help lick them for bringing on this trouble when we wanted peace. Good-by, one and all. I'll be back as soon as we have run the Yankees out of Missouri, and that will not take more than two or three months."
Rodney tried to get into the carriage, but the black hands that were extended to him from every side barred his way, and much against his will he was obliged to linger long enough to give each of them a hasty grasp and shake. The only one who stood aloof was the black boy who had been Rodney's playmate when the two wore pinafores, and he leaned against the corner of the house and howled piteously. Rodney felt relieved when the coachman banged the door of the carriage and mounted to his seat and drove off. His only traveling companion was his father, who intended to remain in Baton Rouge until he had seen the boy start on his way up the river.
It was dark when they reached the city, and after Rodney's horse and his trappings had been left at a stable (civilian trappings they were too, for Rodney was afraid that a military saddle and bridle would attract attention and lead to inquiries that he might not care to answer), the coachman drove them to the house of a friend where they were to find entertainment until a St. Louis boat appeared.
"I am glad you did not go to a hotel," said their host, when he had given them a cordial welcome. "I heard last night that your entire company was going up the river, and that the authorities were thinking strongly of putting the last one of you under arrest."
Rodney and his father were speechless with astonishment.
"What business would they have to put us in arrest?" exclaimed the former, as soon as he found his tongue.
"How did the authorities learn that the Rangers had any notion of going up the river?" asked Mr. Gray.
"I am sure I don't know," answered the host. "But it was currently reported on the street yesterday afternoon that the Mooreville company had mutinied, and that the Baton Rouge Rifles might have to go out there and bring them to a sense of their duty."
"Well, if that isn't the most outrageous falsehood that was ever circulated about a lot of honest men I wouldn't say so," exclaimed Rodney, who had never in his life been more amazed. "We didn't mutiny. We simply refused to be sworn into the service of the Confederate States, and that was something we had a right to do. I will tell you how that story got abroad," he added, suddenly. "There's some one in Mooreville who wants to get us into trouble, and I think I know who it is."
At this moment the door was softly opened and a darkey put his head into the room to announce:
"Da's a gentleman in de back pa'lor wants to see Moster Rodney."
"A gentleman to see me?" repeated Rodney, his surprise and indignation giving place to a feeling of uneasiness. "Who is he? What's his name?"
"I dunno, sah," replied the servant. "I never seen him round here afore."
Wondering who the visitor could be and how he knew where to find him, seeing that he and his father had not been in that house more than half an hour, the Harrington boy arose and followed the servant into the back parlor. Whom he expected to meet when he got there it is hard to tell, but it is certain that he felt greatly relieved when he found that the visitor was a Mooreville boy—a "student" in the telegraph office. His uneasy feelings vanished at once only to return with redoubled force when Griffin—that was the visitor's name—said in a loud, earnest whisper:
"Shut the door tight and come up close so that you can hear every word I say. I am liable to get myself into the worst kind of a scrape by trying to befriend you."
"The door is all right, and besides there are no eavesdroppers in this house," answered Rodney. "What in the world is the matter, and why are you likely to get yourself into trouble by coming here?"
"Have you heard anything since you have been in town?" asked Griffin, in reply. "I don't suppose any one will bother you, seeing that you are alone, but if your whole company had tried to go, you might have been stopped. If you hadn't, it wouldn't have been Randolph's fault."
"There now," thought Rodney. "I said there was some one in Mooreville who wanted to get us into trouble, and Tom Randolph was the very fellow who came into my mind."
But he said nothing aloud. How did he know that young Randolph was the only enemy he had in Mooreville? He looked hard at Griffin and dropped into the nearest chair.
"Randolph is down on everybody who voted against him for second lieutenant," continued Griffin, "and he declared when he came home after the election that he would break up that company of Rangers if he could find any way to do it."
"He laid out a pretty big job for himself," said Rodney, when his visitor paused. "How did he think he would go to work to accomplish it?"
"Any way and every way. He didn't care so long as he broke it up. You can't imagine how tickled he was when he heard that you had mutinied and refused to be sworn in."
"Did Randolph start that ridiculous story about the mutiny?" inquiredRodney.
"I don't know whether he set it going or not, but he helped it along all he could and had a good deal to say about it," answered Griffin. "Yesterday afternoon I was in the office when he came in and wrote a dispatch to the Governor; and as I have got so that I can read by sound, I had no trouble in spelling it out when Drummond the operator sent it off. I always do that for practice. Between you and me that Drummond is a fellow who ought to be booted out of that position. He's just too mean to be of any use."
"What was in the dispatch?" asked Rodney.
"It contained the information that the Rangers had mutinied and were about to leave the State in a body."
"That was a lie and Randolph knew it," said Rodney, hotly. "But even if we had decided to leave the State in a body, is there any law to prevent it? Such a thing was proposed, but it was voted down by a big majority, and that is why I am obliged to go alone."
"And that brings me to what I want to tell you," said the operator. "I didn't pay very much attention to that dispatch, although Drummond said that if you tried to go up the river you ought to be chucked into the calaboose, the last one of you; but when Randolph came in again that evening and sent off another dispatch that was all aboutyou, I began to open my ears and think it was time I was giving you a hint."
"What could he have to say about me? It wasn't I who defeated him for second lieutenant."
"No, but you voted against him, and the company gave you the position you wanted without making any fuss about it, and presented you with a splendid sword, and all those things made Randolph pretty middling mad, I can tell you."
"Did he tell the Governor in his second dispatch that I was getting ready to leave the State, and that he had better be on the lookout to stop me?"
"Eh? No. He didn't send the second dispatch to the Governor. He sent it to his father's cotton-factor in St. Louis, who is a Yank so blue that the blue will rub off."
"The—mischief—he—did!" exclaimed Rodney, who began to feel blue himself even if he didn't look so. "And what did he have to say to that Yankee about me?"
"He told him to watch the steamboats for a Confederate bearer of dispatches—a young fellow, dark complexioned, slight mustache, dressed in citizen's clothes and a roan colt for company."
"It is his intention to have me arrested the minute I get into St. Louis, is it?" cried Rodney, getting upon his feet and moving about the room with long, angry strides.
"It looked that way to me, and that's why I am here," replied Griffin.
"I appreciate your friendship, and assure you that I shall always bear it in mind," said Rodney, stopping long enough to give the operator's hand a cordial gripe and shake.
"That's all right," said the latter. "I haven't forgotten the winter when I was down with the chills and couldn't work, and that mortgage of ours liked to have worried my mother into a sick bed—"
"That's all right too," Rodney interposed. "I was at school and had nothing whatever to do with it."
"No, but your father had something to do with it, and it's all in the family. I know it is Randolph's intention to get you into trouble with the Yankees if he can, for I heard him tell Drummond so. And he couldn't have taken a better way or a better time to do it," continued Griffin. "If all reports are true, things are in a bad way in St. Louis. You know there are a good many Dutchmen there, and they are mostly strong for the Union. During one of the riots they fired into their own ranks instead of into the mob, and that made them so wild with rage that they are ready to hang every Confederate they can get their hands on, without judge or jury."
"A bearer of dispatches," repeated Rodney, once more seating himself in his chair. "And did Drummond send off that telegram when he knew there wasn't a word of truth in it?"
"Course. Don't I tell you that he's too mean for any use? He and Randolph are and always have been cronies, and I heard them talking and laughing over the dispatches as though they thought they were going to get a big joke on you."
"What other thing has Drummond done that's mean?" inquired Rodney.
"Let's talk about something else," replied Griffin, evasively.
"Just as you please," answered the Barrington boy. "But I shouldn't think you would take the trouble to come to Baton Rouge and run the risk of losing your position in the telegraph office, unless you are willing to trust me entirely. I asked for information and not out of curiosity. If Drummond attempts any foolishness with you, my father may be able to checkmate him."
"Well, then," said the operator, with some hesitation. "You musn't betray me. Drummond has sent the names of all the Union men in and around Mooreville to the Governor."
"Why, I didn't suppose there were any Union men there," exclaimedRodney, who was greatly surprised.
"Of course you didn't. You wouldn't expect one of them to make himself known to as hot a Confederate as you are known to be, would you? There are plenty of people at home who don't suspect such a thing, but I don't mind telling you of it, for you are not mean enough to persecute a man who differs from you in opinion."
Rodney thrust both hands deep into his pockets, slid farther down in his chair, and fastened his eyes on the carpet without saying a word. What would his visitor think of him if he knew that he had been mean enough to do just that very thing that in order to punish his cousin for his Union sentiments and drive him away from the academy, he had written a letter to Budd Goble which came within an ace of bringing Marcy Gray a terrible beating? The matter came vividly to Rodney's recollection now, and he would have given everything he ever hoped to possess if he could have blotted out that one act.
"Yes, there are Union men in Mooreville," continued Griffin, gettingupon his feet and buttoning up his coat, "and Randolph and his friendDrummond are laying their plans to bring sorrow of some sort to them.There was still another telegram which was sent to this place."
"Was there anything in it about me?" inquired Rodney.
"It was all about you. In it Drummond asked the operator here to keep an eye on you if he could conveniently, and send word to Mooreville when you went up the river and what boat you went on. Then he will send off another dispatch to that St. Louis Yankee, who will know just when to expect you."
"He means to be revenged on me for voting as I did, doesn't he?" mused Rodney. "I shall not have any dispatches about me, but I don't want to be arrested. It would delay me just that much, and might make it impossible for me to get out of the city."
"Really I must be going," exclaimed Griffin, "or my cousin, who thinks I came here on purpose to see him, will have his suspicions aroused. Can you show me the way out? Remember I musn't be seen by anybody."
The Barrington boy, who was as well acquainted in that house as he was in his father's, led the way to the front door, and after again thanking his visitor for the trouble he had taken and the friendship he had shown in warning him of his danger, he ran down the steps to the sidewalk and looked in both directions. There was no one in sight; and having made sure of it Rodney motioned to Griffin, who quickly disappeared in the darkness. Then Rodney went slowly back into the house and entered the room in which he had left his father. He told him and their host everything, even at the risk of hearing Mr. Gray declare that he should not stir one step toward St. Louis. That was just what the boy thought his father would say, and he was ready for it, having hit upon a plan which he was sure would throw his enemies off the scent.
Rodney's father was as angry at Randolph and Drummond as he was grateful to young Griffin for the service he had rendered his son, but all he had to say about it was that he would remember them all. And we may anticipate events a little by saying that he kept his word so far as Griffin was concerned. When the Confederate Congress passed that famous conscription law "robbing the cradle and the grave," that is to say, making every able-bodied man in the South between the ages of seventeen and fifty subject to military duty, it did not neglect to provide for the exemption of those who were able to pay for it, thus proving the truth of the assertion that the war of the rebellion was a rich man's war and a poor man's fight. The fact that young Griffin was the sole support of a widowed mother made not the slightest difference to the Confederate enrolling officers, who would have forced him into the army if Rodney's father had not come to his relief. According to the terms of the law there was one exempt on every plantation employing more than fifteen slaves. Mr. Gray owned four such plantations and he gave young Griffin charge of one of them, at the same time handing over the hundred pounds of bacon and beef that Griffin would have been obliged to pay as the price of his exemption. Of course this made Randolph angry, and the burden of his complaint was:
"Griffin is Union and I know it; and old Gray has no business to shield him from the conscription in that fashion. My friend Drummond had to run when the Yankees came here, and now he is starving in the Confederate army; and is this Griffin any better than Drummond?Myexemption is all right. My father is free by reason of his age, and I must look out for the plantation; but Griffin ought to be made to light. I'd give something handsome to know what made those Grays take such a shine to him all of a sudden."
The knowledge that he was watched, and that the telegraph was to be brought into operation against him, did not keep Rodney Gray awake five minutes after his head touched the pillow. He slept soundly, ate a hearty breakfast, and in company with his father took his way to the telegraph office and wrote a dispatch, addressing it to Dick Graham's father at St. Louis. Mr. Graham did not live in the city. His home was near Springfield; but Rodney knew from something Dick said in his letter that his father was sojourning in St. Louis watching the progress of events. His first telegram had reached Mr. Graham all right, and it was likely this one would also. He made a great show of writing it, and even read it to his father in a tone loud enough for the operator to hear it.
"'Will start for St. Louis by first steamer, and shall be glad to have you meet me at the wharf-boat,'" was what he wrote in the dispatch. "Of course Mr. Graham can easily find out what boats are due in the city, and will know about what time to expect me. How much?"
The operator, who seemed to take a deeper interest in this dispatch and the sender than operators usually take in such things, named the price and gazed curiously at Rodney as the latter brought out his purse and looked for the money.
"That's the fellow Drummond wants us to watch," said he to his assistant, when Rodney and his father were out of hearing. "I wonder what's up? Do you suppose he has been stealing anything? He's got a handful of gold—big pieces, too."
"So far so good," said Rodney, as he and his father went out upon the street. "Now let that Yankee cotton-factor watch the St. Louis wharf-boats if he wants to, and see how much he will make by it. I knew I could throw them off the scent."
"You may not have done it as completely as you think," replied Mr. Gray, "I shall not draw an easy breath until I hear that you are safe under Mr. Graham's roof. When you get aboard the steamer be careful what acquaintances you make. Take warning by what Griffin told you last night and take nobody into your confidence."
That afternoon their host learned, through business channels, that the steamerMollie Ablewas in New Orleans loading for St. Louis, and might be expected to arrive at Baton Rouge bright and early on the following morning, provided she was not impressed by the Confederate quarter-master. She came on time, and Rodney afterward learned that he was fortunate in securing passage on her, far she was one of the last boats that went up the river. Navigation was closed soon after she reached St. Louis, and all communication between the North and South was cut off by the Confederate batteries that were erected along the Mississippi. The telegraph lines, which up to this time had been used by both Union men and rebels alike, were seized by the Government; and if Rodney had been a week later, he would not have been able to get that dispatch through to St. Louis. But that would not have interfered with his arrangements, for he did not now expect to meet Dick's father in St. Louis. He had used the telegram simply to deceive Tom Randolph and the Baton Rouge operators.
Rodney Gray and his father, as well as the roan colt and a goodly supply of hay and grain that had been provided for him, were on the levee waiting for theMollie Ablewhen she turned in for the landing, and Rodney did not fail to notice that in the crowd of lookers-on there was one young fellow who made it a point to keep pretty close to him, although he did not appear to do so intentionally.
"It's one of the operators Randolph set to watch me," he whispered to his father. "I hope he will follow us up to the clerk's office and stand around within earshot while I buy my ticket."
His wish was gratified, for that was just what the young operator had been sent there for—to find out whether or not Rodney secured passage to St. Louis. When the latter had seen his horse and forage disposed of on the main deck he ascended to the office, and there was the spy, standing with his hands behind his back and his gaze directed across the river. He stood close to the rail, but still he could hear every word that passed between Rodney and the clerk; and when the latter turned away with his ticket in his hand, the spy ran down the stairs and started for his office to tell Drummond the Moorville operator that he had seen Rodney Gray pay his passage to St. Louis.
"Good-by, my boy," said Mr. Gray, when the steamer's bell rang out the warning that the gang-plank was about to be hauled in.
"Write to us as often as you can, and remember your mother's parting words. As often as I hear from you I shall expect to hear that you did your duty. Remember too, that you are fighting in a just cause. The North has forced this thing upon us, and we would be the veriest cowards in the world if we did not defend ourselves. Good-by."
A moment later Rodney Gray was standing alone on the boiler deck, waving his handkerchief to his father, and theMollie Able'sbow was swinging rapidly away from the landing. Young as he was the boy had traveled a good deal and was accustomed to being among strangers; but now he was homesick, and when it was too late he began to wonder at the step he had so hastily taken, and ask himself how he could possibly endure a whole year's separation from his father and mother.
"I've played a fool's part," thought he, bitterly, "and now I am going to reap a fool's reward. Why didn't I stay with the company and share its fortunes, as I said I was going to do, or why didn't father put his foot down and tell me I couldn't go to Missouri? Heigh-ho! This is what comes of being patriotic."
Then Rodney tilted his chair back on its hind legs, placed his feet on the top of the railing and fell to wondering what had become of the rest of the boys in his class, and whether or not all the Union fellows had been as true to their colors as his cousin Marcy Gray had tried to be. Some of the Barrington students who were strong for the Union were from Missouri, and they did not believe in neutrality as Dick Graham did. They believed in keeping the rebellious States in the Union by force of arms if they would not stay in peaceably. Had they joined Lyon's army, and would he and Dick have to meet them on the field of battle? He hoped not, but if he did, he would be careful to follow the advice Ed Billings gave his cousin Marcy and shoot high.
The journey up the river was an uneventful one. The tables were pretty well filled at meal time, but Rodney could not have been more alone if he had been stranded on some sandbar in the middle of the stream. His horse was the only companion he had, and the animal seemed to be as lonely and homesick as his master was. Rodney visited him a dozen times a day to make sure that he did not want for anything, and the colt always rubbed his head against the boy's shoulder and told him by other signs, as plainly as a horse could tell it, that he was glad to see him. There was an utter lack of that sociability and unrestrained intercourse among the passengers that Rodney had always noticed during his trips up and down the river. Some of them were solitary and alone like himself, while others, having formed themselves into little groups, had nothing to do with the rest of the passengers, but kept entirely on their own side of the boiler deck. Rodney thought they acted as though they were afraid of one another. This state of affairs continued until theMollie Ablereached Memphis, where the Confederates were building a fleet of gunboats, and then a remark made by one of the passengers broke down all reserve, and showed some of them, Rodney Gray among the rest, that they had been keeping aloof from their friends.
"When these boats are completed," Rodney heard the passenger say to one of his companions, "you will see fun on this river. The first point of assault will be Cairo, and then we'll go on up and take St. Louis away from Lyon's Dutchmen. Those Missourians are a pretty set of cowards to let a lot of ignorant foreigners take their city out of their hands."
Well, they couldn't help it, and besides, the loyal Germans were by no means as ignorant as some of the men who fought against them. They were good soldiers and hard to whip; and it was owing to their patriotism and courage that such fellows as Rodney Gray and Dick Graham did not succeed in their efforts to "run the Yankees out of Missouri." And as for the Confederate gunboats of which such great things were expected, they were, with a single exception, destroyed in a fight of less than an hour's duration by the Union fleet under the command of Flag Officer Davis. TheVan Dornalone escaped, and she was never heard of afterward.
When theMollie Ableresumed her journey Rodney waited and watched for an opportunity to question the outspoken Confederate, for he believed he could trust him. As he had often told himself, he was "going it blind," and a little information from some one who knew how things were going on up the river, might be of the greatest use to him. The opportunity he sought was presented the very next day. While he was feeding his horse the Confederate sauntered along and stopped and looked at the colt with the air of a man who knew a good thing when he saw it.
"There ought to be some 'go' in that fellow," said he.
"I think there is," replied Rodney. "But I have never tried him at his best, and don't expect to unless the Yankees get after me."
"Well, if you keep on up the river you will go right where the Yankees are," said the gentleman, who looked a little surprised. "If you are on our side what are you doing here?"
"Pardon me, but I might ask you the same question," answered the boy cautiously.
"My business is no secret," was the smiling reply. "I am going up into Ohio after my family. I want to get them home while I can. All our highways will be shut up after a while."
"Do you think there will be any fighting?"
"Lots of it, and I have promised to help"; and as the man said this he put his hand into his pocket and drew out an official envelope. He looked around the deck to make sure that there was no one within earshot, and then produced a printed document which he unfolded and handed over for Rodney's inspection. "I knew you were a Southerner the minute I saw you, and have several times been on the point of speaking to you, for you seemed lonesome and downhearted," he continued "But when one is about to beard the lion in his den as I am, it behooves him to be careful whom he addresses."
"That was the reason I kept to myself," answered Rodney, handing back the paper which proved that his new acquaintance was a captain in the Confederate army. "I should think you would be afraid to have that commission about you. I left all my soldier things at home."
"I reckon I am safe now, but I might not be a week hence," said the captain. "Who are you any way, if it is a fair question, and where are you going?"
Rodney explained in a few hasty words, and was sorry to hear the captain declare, as he shook his finger at him:
"You are making a great mistake. The place for a young man with a military education is in the regular army; not the volunteers, understand, but the regulars, who will be continued in the service after our independence has been acknowledged. I am surprised that your friends didn't point that out to you."
"I have gone too far along this road to back out now," replied Rodney."We'll get by Cairo all right, won't we?"
"I think so. There have been no restrictions placed upon travel yet thatI have heard of."
"How about Cape Girardeau?"
"That place is garrisoned. You mustn't think of getting off there. How would you get through the lines without a pass?"
"Well, I must get off somewhere along the Missouri shore, for it wouldn't be safe for me to go on to St. Louis."
"Of course it wouldn't. That Union cotton-factor would have you arrested the minute you put your foot on the levee. I'll tell you what I'll do," said the captain, after thinking a moment. "The first clerk, with whom I have a slight acquaintance, is solid, and I'll make it my business to ask him if we are going to land anywhere on the Missouri side between Cape Girardeau and St. Louis. If we are, I'll tip you the wink, and you can be ready to go ashore."
"Thank you, sir," said Rodney, gratefully.
"That young chap has no idea what he is going into," said the captain, after he had told Rodney's story to some of his friends on the boiler deck. "It's neighbor against neighbor all through the southern and western parts of Missouri, and for a week or two past there has been the worst kind of a partisan warfare going on. How he is going to get through I don't know, for if he meets an armed man on the way how is he going to tell whether he is Union or Confederate?"
There was but one opinion expressed when the captain finished his story, and that was that Rodney Gray was a foolhardy young fellow.
From that time forward Rodney Gray had no reason to complain of being lonely. Captain Howard—that was the name of his new acquaintance— introduced him to more than a dozen gentleman, all of whom were enthusiastic rebels and firm in their belief that if the South did not have a "walk over" she would have the next thing to it, for there was no fight to speak of in the Northern people. They told Rodney that while they gloried in his pluck, they were afraid he had undertaken more than he could accomplish.
It may seem strange to some of our readers that these enemies of the government should have the audacity to show their faces among loyal men, and that the authorities should permit them to go and come whenever they felt like it, but stranger things than this were being done in the East, and right under the noses of the President and his cabinet. Rebel agents in Washington kept their friends in the South posted in all that was said and done at the capital, and Commander (afterward Admiral) Semmes had made a business trip through the Northern States, purchasing large quantities of percussion caps which "were sent by express without any disguise to Montgomery," making contracts for artillery, powder and other munitions of war, as well as for a complete set of machinery for rifling cannon, and had searched the harbor of New York in the hope of finding a steamer or two that might be armed and used for coast defense. None of these people were molested, and that was one thing that led the Southerners to believe that the North would not fight.
Cairo was reached in due time, but there was little in or around the place to indicate that there was a war at hand except the outlines of a small fort which was being thrown up to command the river and Bird's Point on the Missouri shore. There were a few soldiers strolling about on the levee, and at that time the garrison numbered six hundred and fifty men. A few months later there was a much larger force in Cairo, and among the blue coats there was one who was often seen walking along the levee with his hands behind him and his eyes fastened thoughtfully upon the ground. He generally wore an old linen duster, a black slouch hat, and a pair of light blue pants thrust into the tops of heavy boots which were seldom blacked, but often splashed with Cairo mud. But everybody stepped respectfully aside to let him pass, and the spruce young staff officers never failed to salute. It was General Grant.
Once more theMollie Ableswung out into the stream, and at the end of half an hour rounded the point below the fort and resumed her journey up the Mississippi. Now Rodney Gray began to show signs of excitement. Every turn of the paddle wheels brought him nearer to the place where he must leave the boat, and the new-made friends who had done so much to cheer him up since they found out who and what he was, and set out alone on a journey of nearly two hundred and fifty miles.
"Being a born Southerner you are accustomed to the saddle, and the ride itself would be nothing but a pleasure trip; but there are the people you are likely to meet on the way," said Captain Howard, seating himself by Rodney's side as theMollie Ablerounded the point. "Are you armed?"
The boy replied that he had a revolver.
"You may need it," continued the captain. "You see the pro-slavery men and abolitionists are scattered all over the State, and I don't believe you can find a town or village in it that is not divided into two hostile camps. That's where I am afraid you are going to have trouble, and you must be all things to all men until you find out who you are talking to. Now here are two letters of introduction that one of my friends gave me for you this morning, and they are addressed to parties living near Springfield, one of whom is a Union man and the other a Confederate. You must use them—"
"Must I ask favors of a Union man and then turn about and fight him?" exclaimed Rodney.
The captain shrugged his shoulders.
"You want to get through, don't you?" said he. "All's fair in war times, and if I were in your place, and a reference to this Springfield Union man would take me in safety through a community of Yankee sympathizers, I should not hesitate to use his name. If you fall in with some of our own people and they suspect your loyalty, why then you can use the name of the Confederate. It's all right."
The captain was called away at that moment, and Rodney, glancing at the envelopes he held in his hand, was somewhat startled to find that one of them was addressed to Erastus Percival.
"I wonder if that can be Tom Percival's father," said he. "If I thought it was, I wouldn't present this letter to him for all the money there is in Missouri. He would turn me over to the Yankees at once."
We have had occasion to speak of Tom Percival just once, and that was during the sham fight which was started in the lower hall of the Barrington Academy to give Dick Graham a chance to steal the Union flag from the colonel's room. We then referred to the fact that Tom's father had cast his vote against secession with one hand while holding a cocked revolver in the other. Rodney, of course, was not sure that this letter of introduction was addressed to this particular Percival, but still he had no desire to make the gentleman's acquaintance if he could help it. While he was turning the matter over in his mind, the captain of theMollie Ablestepped out of the clerk's office and tapped him on the shoulder.
"The very best thing I can do for you," said he, "is to set you ashore at Cedar Bluff landing."
Rodney was surprised, but it was clear to him that the captain knew who he was and where he wanted to go.
"There are only a few people who live there, and they are principally wood-cutters," continued the skipper. "But they are true as steel, and you can trust them with your life. I have bought wood of them for years and know them like a book. I will go ashore with you and give you a good send-off. We shall get there about ten o'clock to-night."
Rodney opened his lips to thank the captain for his kindness, but he was gone. The old steamboat-man sympathized with the South, and Captain Howard and his friends had found it out, and induced him to do what he could to help Rodney escape the expectant Yankee cotton-factor at St. Louis. The boy laughed aloud when he thought how astonished and angry Tom Randolph would be to learn that he had wasted time and telegrams to no purpose. He passed the rest of the day in company with Captain Howard and his friends, nearly all of whom held some position of trust under the new government, and at nine o'clock, in obedience to a significant wink and nod from the skipper, he went below and put the saddle and bridle on his horse. Just then the whistle sounded for Cedar Bluff landing, and some of the passengers came down to bid him good-by and see him safely ashore.
"A boy with your ability and pluck ought to make his mark in the service, and I wish I could keep track of you," said Captain Howard, giving Rodney's hand a cordial shake. "But I shall most likely be ordered East, hundreds of miles away from here, and possibly I may never hear of you again; but I shall often think of you. Good-by, and good luck."
This was the way in which all his new friends took leave of him, and if good wishes were all that were needed to bring him safely through, Rodney would have had no fears of the future. When theMollie Able'sbow touched the bank and a line had been thrown out, a gang-plank was shoved ashore, and the skipper came down from the hurricane deck to give his passenger a "send-off." The blazing torch, which one of the deck-hands had placed in the steamer's bow, threw a flickering light upon half a dozen long-haired, roughly dressed men who had been brought to the bank by the sound of the whistle, and who gazed in surprise when they saw a stout negro coming off with Rodney's trunk on his shoulder, followed by Rodney himself, who was leading the roan colt. It wasn't often that a passenger was landed in that out-of-the-way place.
"Set the trunk down anywhere, Sam, and go aboard. A word with you, Jeff," said theMollie Able'scaptain, beckoning to the tallest and roughest looking man in the party. "Where's Price?"
"Dunno. Jeff Thompson has just been round behind the Cape pulling up the railroad, but some of the Yankee critter-fellers went out there and run him off," replied the long-haired Missourian. "Last I heared of Price he was down about the Arkansas line."
(The "Cape" referred to was the town of Cape Girardeau, and the "critter-fellers" were the Union cavalry which at that time garrisoned the place. The "Arkansas line" was the southwestern part of Missouri where Price raised his army, which grew in numbers the nearer he marched with it to the Missouri River).
"That's bad news for my young friend here," said the captain of theMollie Able. "Springfield is off in that direction, and that's right where he wants to go. He is one of Price's men, and is anxious to find his commander. Say, Jeff, you take care of him and see him safely on his way, and I'll make it all right with you when I stop for my next load of wood."
"It's all right now, cap'n," answered Jeff. "He'll be safe as long as he stays here, seeing that he's a friend of your'n, but when he gets back in the country—I dunno; I dunno."
The steamboat captain didn't know either, but he couldn't stop to talk about it. He had done the best he could to keep Rodney out of the clutches of that Yankee cotton-factor in St. Louis, and now the boy must look out for himself. He gave the latter's hand a hasty shake, told him to keep a stiff upper lip and give a good account of himself when he met the Lincoln invaders in battle, and shouted to the deck-hands to "let go and haul in." The steamer gave him a parting salute from her whistle as she backed out into the river, Captain Howard and his friends on the boiler deck waved their hands to him, and Rodney was left alone with the wood-choppers. A Northern boy would not have been at all pleased with the situation, for they were a rough looking set, and probably there was not one among them who did not plume himself upon his skill as a fighter; but Rodney was not afraid of them, for he had seen such men before.
"One of you fellers put that hoss under kiver, and stranger, you come with me," said Jeff, raising Rodney's trunk from the ground and placing it upon his shoulder. "It's little we've got to offer you, and you look as though you might be used to good living; but you're welcome to such as we've got, and we're glad to see you. Now we'd like to have you tell us, if you can, what all this here furse is about," he went on, when he had conducted his guest into a log cabin that stood at the top of the bank, and deposited the trunk beside the open fire-place. "What made them abolitionists come down here all of a sudden to take our niggers away from us?"
"Because they are envious—jealous of our prosperity," replied Rodney, drawing up a nail keg and seating himself upon it. "They have to work every day and we don't; and that's what's the matter with them. They don't care a cent for the negroes. They used to own slaves themselves."
All the wood-choppers, with the exception of the one who had taken it upon himself to "put the hoss under kiver," had followed Jeff and Rodney into the cabin, and they were profoundly astonished by the last words that fell from the boy's lips. It was a matter of history that was quite new to them.
"Where be them slaves now?" asked Jeff.
"They were given their freedom."
"Well, I always knowed them Yankees was fules, but I don't for the life of me see what they done that fur."
"Oh, it wasn't because they were sorry for the negro," exclaimed Rodney. "It was because they couldn't use him. They would have slaves to-day if they could make a dollar by it. You let the Yanks alone for that. Why, when these troubles began, we didn't have percussion caps enough to fight a battle with, and Captain Semmes went up North and bought a big supply; and the men of whom he bought them knew what he was going to do with them, and offered to make contracts with him to send him all he wanted and could pay for."