CHAPTER IX.THE REBEL AND THE YANKEE.

CHAPTER IX.THE REBEL AND THE YANKEE.

Bill Baker was awake at last, and from his hiding-place had seen Capt. Carleton and Isaac disappear beneath the trees in the distance.

“They are goners,” he muttered to himself, “Won’t that snap dragon of a widow be mad, though, when she hears how they’ve got Ike. Poor Ike, I’d help him if I could, but ’taint no use interferin’ now,” and with this reflection, Bill turned his attention toward the stranger, watching him for several minutes, first to decide his politics, and second, to calculate his probable strength. The soldier was at least a head taller than Bill, who neverthelessfar exceeded him in strength of muscle and power of endurance.

“I can manage him,” was Bill’s contemptuous comment, and feeling in his pocket for the strong cordRose Matherhad bound round his paper parcel of turnovers and cheese, he prepared to spring upon his foe in the rear and take him by surprise.

The cracking twigs betrayed him, and changing his tactics he walked directly in front of the astonished young man, who, with heightened color, haughtily demanded “what he was doing there,—and whether he were a friend or foe.”

“What am I doin’ here?” Bill repeated, sticking his cap a little more to one side, and half shutting one of his wicked grey eyes, “Kinder peekin’ round to see what I can find. Be I friend or foe? You must be green to ask that. Don’t you re-cog-nize myregimentals, made after the cut of Uncle Sam,siledsome, to be sure, but then I’ve been at a dirty job,—been lickin’ jest such scamps as you. Now, then, corporal, seein’ I answered you civil, what areyoudoin’ here? You won’t answer me, hey?” he continued, as the stranger deigned him no other reply than a look of ineffable disdain. “Wall, then, if you’re so ’fraid of your tongue, s’posin’ we try a rastle, rough and tumble, you know; and the one that gits beat is t’other’s prisoner. That’s fair, as these dead folks will witness;” and Bill’s glance for the first time fell upon the bodies lying near them,—upon Charlie’s childish face, with the golden curls clustering around it.

The sight touched a tender chord in Bill, and forgetting for a moment his new acquaintance, he bent over the drummer boy, murmuring,

“Poor child, your folks or’to have been ashamed to let you come to war.”

Now was the Rebel’s time. He felt intuitively that he was no match for the thick-set, brawny Bill. Safety lay alone in flight, and with a sudden bound he fled like a deer.

“Nuff said,” dropped from Bill’s lips, and the next instant he, too, was flying through the woods in pursuit of the foe.

It proved an unequal race, and Bill’s strong arms ere long closed like a vice around the struggling soldier, who resisted manfully, until resistance was vain, and then sullenly stood still, while Bill fastened his hands behind him, with the cords unwittingly furnished by Rose Mather!

“Don’t squirm so, corporal,” Bill said, as he bound the knots securely, with his knee upon the back of the stranger, whom he had thrown upon his face. “Don’t squirm so like an eel and I’ll be done the quicker. I calkerlate to tie you so you can’t git away, and you may as well hold on. Got kinder delicate hands, haint you? Never done nothin’, I guess, but lick niggers and shute your betters. There, you may stan’ up now if you want tew.”

The young man struggled to his feet, saying, proudly:

“What do you intend doing next, sir?”

“What do I intend doin’?” Bill replied, with imperturbable gravity. “I intend leadin’ you by this string inter camp, and showin’ you up for to’pence a sight. What d’ye s’pose I intended doin’?”

The young man made one more desperate struggle to free himself, but the twine only cut into his flesh, making the matter worse, so he finally submitted to his fate, and suffered Bill to take him where he listed. Bill was in no hurry to get to camp. He rather enjoyed being alone with his prisoner, and leading him to a little thicket he made him sit down, and placing one of his feet upon him he began to ask him innumerable questions,—what washis name, where did he come from, what company was he in, and so on, to none of which did the stranger vouchsafe a reply.

With a haughty look upon his handsome face, he maintained a rigid silence, while Bill continued:

“Needn’t talk unless you want to. Speech is free with us, you know; but seein’ you won’t tell who you be, maybe you wouldn’t mind hearing my geneology. It’ll make you feel better, mabby, to know my reputation and standin’ in society. Corporal, did you ever hear of aYankee, a real live mudsill Yankee, such as Southern gentlemen feel above fightin’ with? Wall, I’m that critter. What do you think of me, take me as a hull?”

The stranger groaned in disgust, and Bill continued:

“Them cords hurt you, I guess. Like enough I’ll ease ’em up a trifle, if you say so. I ain’t hard-hearted, if I be rough as a nutmeg-grater. Shall I loosen ’em so’s not to hurt them soft, baby hands of yourn?”

“Thank you, sir. I don’t mind it in the least,” was the soldier’s answer, though all the while the coarse twine was cutting cruelly into the tender flesh.

This Bill suspected, and muttering to himself:

“Good grit, if he is a Rebel,” he went on: “Considerable top-lofty, ain’t you, corporal? And as chaps of your cloth like to meet with their equals, I’ll go on with my history. I was born in Massachusetts, not over a day’s ride from Boston. Ever been to Boston?”

No answer from the stranger, save a heightened color, and Bill proceeded:

“Tall old town. Got a smashin’ monument out to Charlestown. Heard on’t I s’pose, as I take it some of you Southern dogs can read. Wall, father died in State’s Prison down there to Charlestown, and then we moved to Rockland, the old woman, Hal and me. Hal’s lyin’ up there where the hottest of the fight took place, andI’m here tormentin’ you by tellin’ you my character. I’ve been to the workhouse twice,—I have, I swan,—once for gettin’ drunk, and once for somethin’ else a good deal wus. How do you feel now?” and Bill leered wickedly at the young man, who seemed bent on keeping silence.

Only the expression of his face told the extreme contempt he felt for his companion, and how it did wound to the quick one of his nature to be held a prisoner by such as William Baker. But there was no help for it; he must submit to be taken to Washington by the despised Bill, and then,—oh, how his heart sank within him as he thought, what then? Was there no method of escape? Couldn’t he get away, or better yet, couldn’t he hire Bill to let him go? Strange he had not thought of this before. Yankees were proverbially avaricious, and almost every man had his price. He could try, at all events, and unbending his dignity, he inquired what Bill would ask to let him go?

“What’ll I ask?” repeated Bill, placing both feet instead of one upon his prisoner. “I dun know. Le’ss dicker a spell and see. What’ll you give, and where do you keep your traps?”

“In my pockets,” the unsuspecting soldier answered; “there’s my watch and chain, worth over three hundred dollars.”

“Whew-ew!” whistled Bill, his face lighting up instantly, while hope crept into the stranger’s heart. “A gold watch worth over three hundred! Let’s see the critter.”

“You forget that my hands are tied,” the stranger suggested.

“So they be, but mine ain’t,” and the next moment Bill was holding to his ear an elegant Parisian watch, and asking if the stranger were positive sure it cost more’n three hundred dollars. “I had an old pewterthing that I gin to mother,” he said, “and this concern jest comes in play. It’s mine, you say, if I’ll let you cut stick and run?”

“Yes, sir; I give you that in exchange for my liberty.”

“Wall, now, kind a generous, ain’t you? But I want you should fling in something to clinch the bargain. A chap of your cloth is of more valley than three hundred. What else have you got, corporal?” and laying the watch carefully upon the grass, Bill’s hand a second time sought the stranger’s pocket, bringing out an expensive and exquisitely wrought quizzing-glass.

“Wall, now, if these ain’t the curisest spetacles!” he exclaimed. “I’ll jest see how a Reb looks through ’em,” and adjusting them to his eyes, Bill walked demurely around his prisoner, and then standing at a little distance inspected him minutely, as if he had been some curious monster. “Hanged if I can see in ’em, but mabby they’ll suit the old woman to hum,” he said, placing the glass beside the watch, and adding: “Watch and spetacles ain’t enough, corporal. What more have you got? Ain’t there a ring on one of your hands?”

“Yes, a costly diamond,” was the faint response, and Bill ere long was trying in vain to push it over his large joints.

“It don’t fit me, but I guess ’twill my gal, when I git one,” he said, laying that, too, with the watch and eyeglass.

A silver tobacco-box and handsome cigar-case followed next, the stranger groaning mentally, as a faint suspicion of Bill’s real intentions crossed his mind. There remained now but one more article, the dearest of all the young Rebel possessed, and the perspiration started from every pore as he felt the rough hand again within his pockets, and knew he could not prevent it.

“Oh, no, no, no, not that! Spare me that. Do not open it, please!” and the haughty tone was changed to one of earnest supplication, as Bill drew forth a small daguerrean case, and placed his dirty thumb upon the spring.

Something in the stranger’s voice made him pause a moment, but anything like delicacy of feeling was unknown to the rough Bill, and the next instant he was feasting his rude gaze upon the features which the Rebel youth had guarded almost religiously, even from his equals in camp. How beautiful that girlish face was, with its bright laughing eyes, and soft chestnut curls falling in such profusion around the childish brow, and upon the smooth, white neck. Even Bill was awed into silence, while a feeling of bewilderment crept over him as if he had seen that face before, and mingled with this feeling came remembrances of that last day at home, when fair hands, which, ere he was a soldier, would have scorned to touch such as he, had waved him an adieu.

“Whew-ew!” he whistled, at last. “Ain’t she pretty, though? Your sweetheart, I guess,” and he leered at the stranger, who made him no reply; only the lips quivered, and in the dark eyes there was a gathering moisture; but when Bill asked, “May I have this, too, if I’ll let you go?” the stranger answered, promptly:

“Never! I’ll die a thousand deaths before I’ll part with that! Liberty is not worth that price. Give me back the picture, and I’ll go with you willingly wherever you please. Do give it back,” he added, in an agony of fear, as Bill continued gazing at it, and making his remarks.

“Can’t a feller look at a gal on glass if he wants to? I wouldn’t hurt the little critter if I could as well as not.So you won’t give her to me, nor tell me who ’tis, neither?”

“Stranger,” said the Rebel, “have you any feelings of refinement?”

“Nary feelin’,” and Bill shook his head, but did not withdraw his eyes from the picture.

“Well, then, have you a wife?”

“Nary wife. Nobody would have Bill Baker.”

“Nor sister?”

“Nary sister but a dead one that I never seen.”

“Nor mother? You surely have a mother,” and the soldier’s voice shook with strong emotion.

“You’ve got me there,” and Bill’s eyes turned upon his prisoner. “I have a mother, and you ought to hear the old gal take on when she comes home from washin’ from Miss Martherses or some of the big bugs and finds Hal dead drunk on the trundle-bed, and me not a great sight better. Handsome old gal,—one of the kind that don’t wear hoops, but every time she steps takes her gownd up on her heels, you know.”

The Rebel groaned aloud. There was no tender point upon which his captor could be touched, and the tears rained over his handsome face as he begged of Bill to give him at least the ambrotype.

“It’s the only thing which has prevented me from being a perfect villain,” he said. “It has kept me from the wine cup, and from the gambler’s den.”

“Pity it hadn’t kept you out of the Southern army,” was Bill’s dry response, and the stranger answered, eagerly:

“I wish it had, I wish it had! Please give it back, and I’ll swear allegiance to the veriest minion in Lincoln’s train.”

“I never thought no great of a turncoat,” Bill replied,closing the case, and still holding it in his hand. “If you’re a Southern dog, stay so, not go to barkin’ on both sides. We don’t want no traitors. Honest, though, corporal, wherewasyou born? There’s a kind of nateral look in your face, as if I’d seen it afore,” and Bill laid the ambrotype upon the grass.

But with regard to his birthplace, the stranger was non-committal; and Bill continued:

“If I let you go, you’ll give me the watch?”

“Willingly, willingly.”

“And the spetacles?”

“Yes, oh yes.”

“And the glass bead ring?”

“Yes, everything but the picture.”

“Don’t be so fast,” Bill rejoined. “I’ll get to that bimeby. Watch, spetacles, glass bead ring, tobarker-box, and this other thingumbob, but not the picter, if I’ll let you go? And you’ll go with me to Washington, and be showed up like a caravan if I’ll give up the picter? Them’s the terms as I understand.”

“Yes,” the stranger gasped, a shadow of hope stealing into his heart.

Alas, how soon it was erased by Bill’s continuing:

“Yankees ain’t generally very green. We can make you Southern bloods buy wooden cowcumber-seeds any time of day, and do you s’pose I’m goin’ to let you off at any price?NoSIR! If you go to war, you must take the chances of war. I ain’t a-goin’ to hurt you, and I’ll ease up them strings if you say so, but, corporal, you’re my prisoner; and these traps,” laying his hand upon the various articles upon the grass, “these traps, picter and all, Icon-fis-cateascon-tra-band! How do you feel now?” and Bill coolly pocketed his contrabands, all save the watch, which he adjusted about his neck.

There was a fierce storm of tears, and sobs, and wild entreaties, and then the poor discouraged soldier was still, his white face wearing again its look of cold, haughty reserve, and his whole manner indicative of the aversion he felt for the vulgar Bill, upon whom the feeling was entirely lost, for though Bill knew the proud Southerner felt above him, he could not appreciate the feelings which made the young man shrink from him as from a loathsome reptile. Bill had no intention of treating him cruelly, and as by this time the night shadows were creeping into the woods, he sought out a dryer and more sheltered spot, and bade his prisoner sleep while he sat by and watched. It seemed preposterous that the stranger should sleep under so great excitement, but human nature could endure no longer without rest, and when at last the stars came out, they shone down upon that tired soldier, sleeping upon the grass, with Bill sitting near, and watching as he slept. There were visions of home, and of the battle, too, it would seem, mingled in the young man’s dreams, for he talked sometimes with his mother, asking her to forgive her boy, and take him back again to her love; then he was pleading for another, a captive it would seem, asking that nought but the best of care should come to the wounded officer; and then the picture flitted across his mind, for he held converse with the original, and Bill, listening to him, muttered:

“’Twas his gal, or sister, sure; I’m sorry for him, Ivum, but hanged if I’ll give it up. It’scontrabandaccording to war. He needn’t of jined the army.”

And so the weary night wore on, the deep stillness of the Virginia woods broken occasionally by the shouts of riders as they passed by, in search of whatever there was to find. Once, as the shouts came near, the soldierstarted up, but ere the scream for help had passed his lips, Bill’s hand was laid firmly upon them, and Bill himself whispered fiercely.

“One yelp, and I gag you with the handkerchief the old woman took from her pocket and gin me the mornin’ I come from home. She takes snuff, too, the old woman does!”

There was a gesture of disgust, and then the stranger became quiet again, while the shouts died away in the distance and were not heard again that night. The morning broke at last, and just as it was growing light, Bill, aroused by the falling rain from the slumber into which he had inadvertently fallen, awoke his prisoner, and led him safely through the pickets of the enemy without encountering a human being. They were a strange looking couple, and when, on the following day, they reached Washington, they attracted far more attention than the prisoner desired, for he shrunk nervously from the curious gaze fixed upon him, refusing to answer all questions as to his name or birthplace, and appearing glad when at last he was relieved from Bill’s surveillance and led to his prison home.

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