"Now, fellows," said Rodney, as soon as the line had been formed, "who knows a song appropriate to the occasion? We want to let the folks in advance of us know that we are coming, so as to see what they will do and say when they behold the banner of our young Republic."
"Hear, hear!" shouted the boys. "Strike up something, somebody." Every one looked at Dick Graham, who was the finest singer in the squad, and the latter, after a moment's reflection, cleared his throat and sang as follows:
"We are many in one while there glitters a starIn the blue of the heavens above,And tyrants shall quail 'mid their dungeons afar,When they gaze on the motto of love.By the bayonet traced at the midnight of war,On the fields where our glory was won—Oh, perish the hand or the heart that would marOur motto of 'Many in One.'"
A more disgusted lot of boys had never been seen in Barrington than Rodney and his friends were when Dick finished singing the above, which was a part of two verses of "E Pluribus Unum." Of course the members of the squad all knew the song, but they did not suppose that Dick would have the audacity to mix it up in this way. If they had suspected how the song was going to end, they would have drowned him out in short order.
"That's about the biggest sell that was ever perpetrated on a party of confiding students," said Ed Billings, as soon as the whoops and yells of derision with which the patriotic words were greeted had died away. "Can't some good Southerner sing something that will hit the spot?"
Nobody could; for if any of the Confederate songs, which afterward became so popular on both sides the line, were in existence, they had not yet reached Barrington; so the only thing left for the boys to do was to keep step to "hay-foot, straw-foot, boom, boom, boom!" which they chanted with all the power of their lungs. Dick Graham congratulated himself on having said a word for the Union, and paid no sort of attention to the good-natured prods in the ribs which he received from the boys who were marching beside him. He stoutly affirmed that he had uttered nothing but his honest sentiments, and hoped that every one who took a hand in marring "our motto of many in one" would get whipped for his pains.
The students were well acquainted with the people living along their line of march, and were more than satisfied with the enthusiastic greetings given to them and their flag. When they filed through the gate into the academy grounds the sentry presented arms, and the commandant, who was standing at his window, turned away. The boys saw it, and told one another that the colonel was coming to his senses, and that he would not interpose his authority when they were ready to run up the Stars and Bars on the following morning.
"You fellows are making a heap of fuss about nothing," said Marcy Gray, as his cousin halted beside the camp-chair in which he was sitting and waved the flag over his head, while the rest of the squad trooped up the wide steps that led into the hall. "Take that thing away. The time may come when you will be sorry you ever saw it."
"It shall gleam o'er the sea 'mid the bolts of the storm,O'er the battle and tempest and wreck,And flame where our guns with their thunder grow warm—"
sang Rodney. "Look here, old fellow: Couldn't you get up spirit enough to give us a cheer?"
"I don't think I could," replied Marcy. "Did you fellows all have passes? I thought not. If things were as they used to be you would find yourselves in the guard-house in less than ten minutes."
"We are aware of it," answered Rodney; "but if things were as they used to be, we should not have climbed the fence and gone to town without permission. But these are times when rules don't count. There is your mail, and if you will take a friend's advice, you will read that paper carefully. I think there is something in it that concerns you."
"What is it, and where is it? Tell me all about it, and then I shall be spared the trouble of looking it up."
"Well," said Rodney, as if he hardly knew how to give his cousin the desired information, "Congress has passed a law commanding all Northern sympathizers to leave the limits of the Confederacy within ten days."
"Has this State gone out?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then I don't see how that law concerns me. I am not in the Confederacy, am I? As long as the State does not tell me to go, I shall stay where I am until mother writes me to start for home. Has your father written for you yet?"
"No; but I am looking for a letter every day, and I don't see why I don't get it. But it will come fast enough if the Yankees begin preparations for war, as some lunatics seem to think they will."
"Those same lunatics are about the only sensible people there are in the South to-day. The Northern States will not stand by with their hands in their pockets and see this government broken up, and you may depend upon it," said Marcy earnestly. "If they don't hang a few on both sides the line, there will be a war here the like of which the world has never seen."
"Bosh!" exclaimed Rodney, snapping his fingers in the air.
"And some of it will be in your State and mine," continued Marcy.
"Haven't you read our president's speech?" demanded Rodney, almost fiercely. "He says that if war must come, it will be fought on Northern soil."
"It takes two to make a bargain. The Northern States are stronger than we are, and they would be fools to consent to any such arrangement."
"You'll see that it will be done, whether they consent or not," answered Rodney. "Of course they don't want us to separate from them, for they have made a lot of money out of us with their high protective tariff and all that; but how are they to help themselves when there are no laws or ties of blood to hold us together? Although we speak the same language, we do not belong to the same race that they do; we are better every way than they are, and we're not going to be bound to them any longer. The slave-holders of the South ruled the old Union for sixty out of seventy years of her existence, and now that the reins of power have been snatched from their hands, they're not going to stand it. We'll have a nation of our own that will lead the world in everything that goes to make a nation. If North Carolina goes out, what will you do?"
"I shall go home, of course, for mother will need me. Our blacks will all leave us the first chance they get—"
"Bosh!" said Rodney, again. "The niggers know who their friends are, and I'll bet you there are not a hundred in the South today who would go over to the Yankees if they had the opportunity."
"Whether they run away or not, mother will need somebody on the plantation, and I am the only one she can call on, for Jack is at sea," replied Marcy.
"And, what's more, he may never get back," added Rodney. "We shall have a navy of our own pretty soon, and then, if the Yankees declare war against us, every ship that floats the old flag will have to watch out. We'll light bonfires on every part of the ocean. If your State secedes, you will go with her, of course?"
"Of course I'll not do any such thing."
"Marcy Gray, are you really a traitor? Be honest, now."
"Not much. I am true to my colors—the same colors that your grandfather and mine died under."
"But grandfather never dreamed, when he fought under that flag, that it was going to be turned into an emblem of tyranny," answered Rodney impatiently. "I'll bet you he would not fight under it now; and neither would Washington. But how will you fare when you get home? There are plenty of secessionists in your county, and they will have not the first thing to do with you."
"I don't care whether they do or not," replied Marcy, hardly realizing how much meaning there was in his cousin's last words. "Mother will have something to do with me, I reckon; and so will Jack when he returns; and if the neighbors choose to cut me because I am true to my colors, why I don't see that I can help it."
"Will you fight for the Union?"
"I hope I shall not be called upon to choose sides; but you may be sureI shall not fight against it."
"Well, go your road, and I will go mine; but you will yet see the day when you will wish you had done differently. By the way," added Rodney carelessly; "those Taylor girls hinted that they would be pleased to see you at their house; but you don't want to air any of your disloyal sentiments in their presence, for if you do, they will be likely to tell you that you needn't come again. My paper says that is what the Richmond girls are doing, and our Barrington girls are following suit. And, Marcy, you had better haul in a little, for if you do not, you will get into trouble. The citizens are waking up, and there has been a Committee of Safety appointed to look out for all disturbers of the peace."
"I think such a committee is needed," was Marcy's quiet rejoinder. "The disturbers of the peace are secessionists without exception, and if the committee will shut up every one of that sort they can get their hands on, they will do the public a service. But as I don't care to be snubbed, I don't think I shall go out of my way to call upon those Taylor girls."
"Of course you will do as you please about that. I have simply delivered their message," said Rodney, as he passed up the steps and through the wide archway, waving his flag and making the hall ring with his shouts as he went. "Rally on the center, boys, and yell defiance to the Regicides and Roundheads. Keep your eye on the stairs, Billings, and if the kurn does not come down when he hears the racket, we are all right for to-morrow morning."
For a few minutes the greatest confusion reigned in the corridor. The secessionists yelled themselves hoarse over the Stars and Bars, and, carried away by the enthusiasm of the moment, pledged themselves to enlist with the defenders of their respective States within twenty-four hours after they reached home. Then followed a counter-demonstration for the Stars and Stripes, led by the tall student, Dixon, of Kentucky, who was backed up by nearly all the boys from the States that had not yet joined the Confederacy. The noise was deafening, but the colonel did not come out of his room to put a stop to it, and that confirmed Rodney in the belief that he was "all right for tomorrow morning." His friends were greatly encouraged, and one of them, when the evening gun was fired, jerked, rather than pulled, the old flag down from the masthead; and he would have been glad to show his contempt for it by trampling it under his feet, had it not been for the presence of the guard, who paced the top of the tower in plain view of the open door of the belfry.
It was necessary to keep a sentry there now, for when the students found that they could not do as they pleased with the flag, they watched for an opportunity to pull the halliards out of the block at the head of the flagstaff. Of course the rope could and would have been restored to its place, but not without considerable trouble. The staff was so very slender that the lightest boy in school would have thought twice before attempting to climb it, and therefore the staff would have had to come down. Marcy Gray and his friends, who seemed to have a way of finding out all about the plans that were laid against the flag, thought it would be best to ask the colonel commanding to have a guard placed over the halliards, and this was accordingly done.
Although the sentry who was on duty at this particular time had the reputation of being a good soldier, he was not as friendly to the flag as he might have been; consequently he offered no remonstrance when the orderly gathered the colors up in a bunch and started downstairs to deliver them to the head of the school. But there were parties on the watch, as the orderly found when he reached the upper hall, for there he encountered the tall Kentuckian, Dixon, who at once took him to task.
"What made you wuzzle the flag up in that shape?" he demanded, in no friendly tones. "Put it down here on the floor and fold it as it should be, or off comes your head."
The orderly looked at Dixon, and then at the boys who stood behind him, but he could not see a single one of Rodney Gray's followers among them. Having no one to back him up he dared not refuse to obey the order, for he was well aware that he would get into trouble if he did. He folded the flag, and the tall student went with him to make sure that he delivered it to the commandant in good order. He saw it placed on the bureau in the colonel's room, and then posted off to tell Dick Graham all about it.
Supper was over at last; darkness came on apace, and as usual the students gathered in the corridors to discuss the situation. They did not seem to remember that there was a law forbidding this very thing, and the guards did not remind them of it, or try to send them to their rooms, for, besides being interested parties themselves, they knew by past experience that the boys would not pay the least attention to their commands.
These discussions were always conducted with more or less noise and hubbub, according to the humor the debaters happened to be in, but now one and all seemed bent on raising a row. They all talked at once, fists were flourished in the air and pretty close to the noses of some of the disputants, and finally the lie was passed, and Rodney Gray and several other students in the lower hall proceeded to "mix up" promiscuously. Dick Graham was not among them. He stood at the head of the stairs, where he could see all that was going on without being seen himself. When the leaders of the opposing sides ceased their arguments and came to blows, and on being separated by their respective friends surged through the door toward the parade, where the matter in dispute could be settled by a fair fight, Dick sprang into life and action and hurried to the commandant's room.
"Sounds something like a row below," said the orderly in a careless, indifferent tone. "Who's in for a black eye this time?"
"Run in and tell the colonel to come out, or there'll be a riot here before he knows it," replied Dick hastily. "Don't your ears tell you that the fellows are all fighting mad, and that the thing is going to be serious?"
Well—yes; there was something of a racket below, but the orderly said he didn't care for that, provided the Southerners would use up all the traitors in the gang. However, he thought it best to go in with the report, in order to save himself from being hauled over the coals for neglect of duty. When the colonel came out of his quarters, buttoning his uniform coat with one hand and settling his cap on his head with the other, he found Dick standing at the top of the stairs with his hands in his pockets, and a face as innocent as a child's.
"Graham, I am glad to see that you have nothing to do with this disgraceful performance," said he.
"Who? Me, sir?" exclaimed Dick. "I don't fight, sir. I'm neutral, sir.You see Missouri—"
But the colonel could not wait to hear Dick say that his State had not yet gone out of the Union. He went down the stairs, along the hall, and through the archway with all haste, and then Dick went, too; but he went down the back-stairs, around the corner of the building, and brought two boys to his side by giving a peculiar whistle.
"Everything is all right so far," whispered Dick. "But there's no telling how long the fellows will be able to keep up the farce, now that the colonel has gone down there, so we must be in a hurry."
"Did they do it well and without exciting suspicion?"
"First rate. Couldn't have done it better. If I hadn't been in the plotI should have thought they were in dead earnest."
While Dick talked he led the way at top speed to the tool-house, and he and his companions vanished through the door. When they came out again they brought with them a light ladder that had been stored there for safe keeping. Moving at a run, they carried it around the building and placed it against the wall under the commandant's window. The sash was raised, and the evening breeze was gently rustling the curtains.
"Do you know whether or not the colonel was alone in his room when you sent the orderly in to fetch him out?" whispered one of the boys. "Suppose he left somebody in there?"
"Or suppose he left his door open and the orderly should chance to look in?" said the other.
"It's too late to think of those things now," replied Dick, placing his foot on the lowest round of the ladder and turning his head to listen a moment to the tumult of voices that came from the direction of the parade-ground. "The fellows are at it yet, and if they can only keep the colonel with them two minutes longer we'll have the flag easy enough. But, mind you, I'll not see it abused."
"It's an enemy's flag," observed one of his companions, who was rather surprised to hear Dick say this. If he was still friendly to the colors, why had he offered to steal them for Rodney Gray?
"No odds if it is an enemy's flag," replied Dick. "We all thought a heap of it once, and I don't know but I think as much of it as I ever did. I say, dog-gone State Rights anyhow."
This showed how much of a rebel Dick Graham was; and there were plenty of others just like him in the South—boys and men, too, who had been taught to believe that the founders of the Republic never meant that the sovereignty of the States should be surrendered to the general government, because they said so in the Declaration of Independence. "These United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independentStates," wrote Thomas Jefferson, and all the Northern and Southern delegates agreed with him. If they had intended to form one State or one government, they would have said so in language too plain to be misunderstood. That was Dick's way of looking at it, and he was honest in his belief that the authorities at Washington had no right to order him from his own State to keep another State in the Union when she wanted to leave it. Dick went into the Southern army after a while, as we have said, and so did many others who thought as he did; but their hearts were not in the work, and they were glad when the war ended and the old flag once more waved over our entire country.
[Illustration: DICK GRAHAM STEALS THE FLAG.]
"Now," continued Dick, "look out for yourselves. If you see anybody coming, make tracks for cover and leave me to take care of myself. There is no need that more than one of us should get into trouble over this nonsensical business."
So saying, Dick ran up the ladder, pushed aside the curtains, and, finding the room deserted, clambered in and seized the flag, which he found on the bureau just where the tall student told him he would find it. He made his escape with it, the ladder was taken back to the tool-house, and no one was the wiser for what had been done. If the students who presently followed the colonel back from the parade-ground had looked closely at Dick, they might have seen that his coat stuck out a little more about the breast than it usually did, but perhaps they did not notice it. At all events they said nothing about it.
"What was the row about this time?" inquired Dick, as Rodney came to the head of the stairs where he was standing.
"Politics; nothing but politics," replied Rodney. "But we didn't have time to find out which side was in the right, for the kurn came down and put a stop to the fun. Did you get it?" he asked in a lower tone, first making sure that no one except those who were "in the plot" were near enough to overhear his words. "Bully for you. Now we will see what Marcy and the rest of the traitors will say when they find another and handsomer flag floating at the masthead in the morning. Where is it?"
Dick tapped the breast of his coat.
"All right, hand it over. There's nobody around except those we can trust."
"What are you going to do with it?"
"I mean to put it where no one will ever see it again, and that is in the kitchen stove," answered Rodney.
"That's what I was afraid of. Well, I don't want it to go in the kitchen stove, and therefore I must decline to give it to you."
"Why, what in the name of sense do you want to keep it for?"
"To show as a proof of my loyalty and devotion to the Confederate States of America," replied Dick gravely. "I need some sort of an heirloom to hand down to my grandchildren, don't I?"
Of course Rodney was angry, and he had half a mind to "mix up" with Dick then and there and take the flag away from him. But the latter was a strong, active fellow, and plucky as well, and Rodney wasn't quite sure that it would be safe to attempt it. While he was thinking about it Bob Cole spoke up.
"Let me have the flag," said he, "and I will promise you, on the honor of a soldier, that you shall have it again as soon as it has served my purpose."
"What do you want to do with it?"
"Well, if you must know, I want it to set me right with my best girl. She as good as told me this afternoon that I need not call at her house again until I could tell her that the flag had been hauled down. I want to show it to her to prove that it has been done."
"But it hasn't," objected Dick. "It has been hooked out of the commandant's room, and that's not hauling it down by force. You can tell her that she will never see it hoisted again, and that assurance will have to satisfy her. If she should get her hands on it you would never see it again, and neither would I. When it can float over an undivided country, as it has in the past, and you rebels have been whipped into subjection, then—"
"I say—whipped!" exclaimed Billings.
"Subjection!" Rodney almost howled. "That will never be. Southerners die, but they don't submit. Dick Graham, you are a traitor, sure enough. You think more of that rag to-day than you do of the rights of the State you claim as your home."
"There's where you are wrong," replied Dick. "I don't quite believe inState Rights, but my father does, and that's enough for me; and wheneverMissouri gets ready to—"
"When she gets ready to join the Confederacy you won't have the pluck to go with her," exclaimed Rodney hotly. "But there's one thing about it. Our own flag goes up on that tower after roll-call in the morning, and I'll pitch the first fellow over the parapet who tries to pull it down."
"Well, good-by, if you call that going," said Dick, good-naturedly.
The boys all followed Rodney down the stairs and Dick was left alone. He felt of the flag to make sure it was safe, and after looking up and down the hall to see that no one was observing his movements, he went into Marcy Gray's room, where Marcy himself found him a few minutes later.
It must not be supposed that the students who did not side with Rodney Gray were entirely deceived by the demonstration that had taken place in the corridor. Noisy political discussions were of too common occurrence to attract the attention of Marcy and his friends, the most of whom were sitting quietly in their rooms, and they gave no heed to what was going on below until the shuffling of feet announced that there was a fight in progress. Then they rushed out in a body, but a single glance at the boys who were struggling in the hall was enough to show them that their services were not needed. The combatants were all secessionists. There were a few "neutrals" among them—Dixon for one—who were trying to restore order, and who finally succeeded in getting them out of the building, but there was no Union boy there who was in want of assistance.
"What's in the wind now, do you reckon?" said Tom Percival, whose father had cast his ballot against secession with one hand, while holding a cocked revolver in the other. "That's a put-up job, and there's something behind it."
"I believe you're right, Tom," said Marcy. "Let's follow them and see what they are going to do."
There was right where he and his friends made a mistake. They went to the parade ground and looked on while the colonel read Rodney and a few others a severe lecture, and Dick Graham was left free to carry out his part of the programme. Then they went back to their dormitories fully satisfied that if Rodney had hoped to gain anything by getting up that fight, he had failed to accomplish his object. When Marcy opened his door he was surprised to find Dick sitting at the table with a paper in his hand.
"What are you doing here, you rebel?" he demanded.
"Rebel yourself," replied Dick. "You stand ready to go back on your State and I don't. But what is the use of this nonsense? You and I understand each other. Look at that."
"Dick, where did you get it?" exclaimed Marcy, when his visitor drew the flag from under his coat.
"I found it on the colonel's bureau and took it and welcome," answeredDick.
"When did you do it?"
"Just now."
"Where was the orderly?"
"He was at his post; but he didn't have anything to do with it, and will be as surprised as anybody when he finds that the flag is gone. We got a ladder and went in at the window."
"We?Who?"
"I did. You don't expect me to tell you who held the ladder while I went up, do you?"
"We knew that that fight was a put-up job, but of course we couldn't imagine what it was got up for. If we had seen or heard anything to set us on the right track, you never would have got your hands on that flag."
"Don't you suppose we knew that?" demanded Dick. "Having no taste for a knockdown and drag-out, we were rather sly about it. But what's the difference? You know as well as I do that it was bound to come down sooner or later, and perhaps it would have been lowered by some one who would not have been as careful of it as I have been. Imagine, if you can, what would have been done to it if the news had come that this State had joined the Confederacy! There hasn't been an ugly finger laid on it since I got it."
Marcy took a turn about the room and then faced his visitor and looked at him in silence.
"I am sure I don't know what to make of you," he said, at length. "Which side are you on? I don't believe you know yourself."
"Haven't I told you time and again that I'm neutral?" demanded Dick."You see Missouri—"
"You never saw two dogs fight in the street without wanting one or the other of them to whip," interrupted Marcy. "There can't be such a thing as a neutral in times like these. You are opposed to the flag, and yet you don't want to see it in possession of those who would insult or destroy it. You handle it as though you loved it."
"I did once, and I don't hate it now, or anybody who stands up for it," answered Dick, thoughtfully. "I am going to give it to you on one—"
"I wondered why you brought it in here," said Marcy. "I shall be glad to have the flag, and to-morrow morning we'll—"
"Good-night," said Dick, getting upon his feet.
"Hold on. What have I said or done to send you away in such a hurry?"
"What will you do to-morrow morning?" asked Dick, in reply.
"We'll run the colors up where they belong, and stand by to see that they stay there. What else should we do?"
"That's what I thought you were going to say; but you must promise that you'll not think of it, or you can't have the flag. You see," continued Dick confidentially, "I am not exactly hand and glove with Rodney and his crowd, but I come pretty near to believing as they do, and that was one reason I offered to steal the flag. If I hadn't done it, they would have hauled it down by force, or tried to, and that might have raised a sure-enough row; no sham about it."
"I am quite sure it would," assented Marcy.
"That's what I was afraid of, and I think it a good plan to put the fighting off as long as we can. I haven't anything against the flag and never shall have, not even when Missouri—"
"Never mind Missouri," Marcy interposed. "Tell me why you are going to give me the flag."
"Simply because I know you think a good deal of it, and will take care of it," answered Dick. "It will be something to be proud of one of these days, I tell you. After we rebels get the licking we are bound to get in the end—"
"If you are so sure of it, why do you favor secession?" inquired Marcy.
"Who? Me? I don't favor it. I never so much as hinted at such a foolish thing, because a blind man ought to see what is going to come of it. Before the thing is over our niggers will all be gone, our homes will be in ruins, our fields grown up to briers, and we'll be as poor as church mice. You'll see. I say that the Southern States ought to stay in the Union; but if they are resolved that they won't do it, the government at Washington has no shadow of a right to compel them. That's me, and that's why I tell you that when Missouri—"
"Why don't you give me the flag, if you are going to?" said Marcy. "Some of the teachers might come in, and how should I account for your presence here?"
"In any way you please. I am not particular. Hold on a bit," said Dick, as Marcy tried to take the colors from his hand. "I must have your promise first. You must say, in so many words, that you will not attempt to hoist it in the morning, and further, that you will not let anyone know I gave it to you. A certain fellow wants to shove it in the stove—"
"That's my cousin," interrupted Marcy.
"And another wants to show it to his girl, who told him to-day, in my presence, that if he had the pluck she had given him credit for, the colors would have come down long ago."
"That's Bob Cole," said Marcy.
"I was taught never to tell names, and tales, too. I knew that if I gave the flag to either of those fellows I would never see it again. I have marched and drilled under it for almost four years, and shouldn't like to hear that it been abused in any way; but if you and I live to see the end of the terrible times that I believe are coming upon us, Ishouldlike to hear that it had been run up again. That's why I am going to give it to you; but I must have your promise first."
"It's a bargain, and there's my hand on it," answered Marcy, without hesitation. "That flag shall never go up to the top of the academy staff again if I can help it, and while I remain in this school I'll never say you gave it to me. Now hand it over, so that I can hide it before anybody comes in."
Dick was rather surprised at the promptness with which the required promise was given. Almost without knowing it he handed Marcy the flag, and saw him place it in his trunk and turn the key upon it.
"Say," he exclaimed, when he found his tongue, "what are you up to?"
"I am going to leave the flag there until I can think of some good hiding-place for it," replied Marcy.
"That isn't what I mean, and you know it. I didn't think you would be so very willing to make the promise, and I am afraid there is something back of it."
"I have said all you asked me to say, have I not? Well, I assure you I shall remember it, for I am not in the habit of breaking my word. The next time these colors float it will be in a breeze that is untainted by any secession rag, I bet you. Then, whether you are living or dead, I shall think of you, Dick. You and I have always been friends and I know we shall continue to be so, no matter where we are or what flag waves over us."
"You don't owe me any thanks," said Dick hastily, and in, rather a husky voice. "I don't want the old thing, for I may have to fight against it someday; but I didn't want to see Rodney and his crowd trample it under their feet before they destroyed it. You're right, we shall always be friends, no matter—dog-gone State Rights anyhow. That's me. Good-night."
"Just one word more before you go," said Marcy. "Where did Rodney get the secession flag he has been prancing around with ever since he came from town?"
"It came through the post-office, but who sent it I don't know. You ought to have heard the fellows whoop and yell when he took it out of the package."
"Does he labor under the delusion that he is going to run it up on the tower in the morning?" continued Marcy.
"You can't prove that by me," was Dick's response. "Good-night."
"Yes, I can prove it by you," thought Marcy, as his visitor went out, closing the door behind him. "Your face and your actions said plainly enough that that is what Rodney means to do; but I'll bet you he will be astonished when to-morrow comes. He and his crowd must take us for a lot of dunderheads."
Marcy waited until he thought Dick had had time to reach his own room, and then he opened the door and went out into the hall. He was gone about half an hour, and when he came back he was smiling all over, and rubbing his hands together, as if he felt very well satisfied with what he had done during his absence. Then he drew a chair to the table, turned up the lamp, and devoted himself to another reading of the letters and papers he had that day received from home. While he was thus engaged some things were happening a few miles away that eventually came very near raising a "sure-enough fight" at the academy, and opened the eyes of the "citizens and voters of Barrington" to the fact that they had not done a wise thing when they employed some of the most worthless members of the community to keep watch of those who did not wear red, white, and blue rosettes and hurrah for President Davis.
About the time the Missouri boy and his comrades made their successful raid on the commandant's room, one of the paid spies of whom Mr. Riley had spoken during his conversation with Dick Graham went to the post-office in Barrington and was handed a letter addressed to himself. An ordinary observer would have seen at a glance that the writing on the envelope was disguised, but Bud Goble, who seldom saw writing of any sort, did not notice it. He straightened up as if he had grown an inch or more when he found that he had a correspondent who was respectful enough to address him as "Mister," and rose immensely in his own estimation when he opened the letter and withmuchdifficulty spelled out the following:
"This is verry privat and perticlar bisness and i wouldnt think of speaking to nobody but you about it who are one of the most promnent and respeckted sitizens of barington."
This was nothing but the truth, according to Mr. Goble's way of thinking; but up to this time he had never met any one whose opinions agreed with his own. If the business to which his correspondent referred was so very "private and particular," it would never do, he thought, to read the letter there in the post-office, while there were so many men standing around; so he straightway sought the privacy of his own dwelling—a little tumble-down log cabin with a dirt floor and stick chimney, which was situated in the outskirts of the town.
"One of the most respected and prominent citizens of Barrington; that's what I be," muttered Bud Goble, as he stumbled along the dark road toward his domicile. "I always knowed it, but there's a heap of folks about here who have always been down on me, kase I haven't got any niggers of my own and have to work for a livin'; but I'm to the top of the heap now, an' what's more, I'll let some of 'em know it before I am many hours older. I wisht I knew what's into this letter, kase it's mighty hard work for me to read it. If it's anything about them babolitionists an' the doctering they're preachin' up among our niggers—Well, they'll not do it much longer, kase I am about ready to take some on 'em outen their beds at night an' lay the hickory over their backs. There's money into it, kase Mr. Riley an' the rest of the men that's onto the committee said so; an' I'm onto every job where there's an honest dollar to be made."
Bud Goble was a fair type of that class of people who were known to those among whom they lived as "white trash." Even the negroes, particularly those who belonged to wealthy planters, looked upon them with contempt. Too lazy to work, they lived from hand to mouth; and not one out of ten of the many thousands of them who went into the Confederate Army knew what they were fighting for. To save his life Bud Goble could not have told what all this excitement was about. He had a dim notion that somebody wanted to free the slaves, and the idea of such a thing made him furious; although it is hard to explain why it should, for, as Dick Graham said, he had never owned the price of a pickaninny. He had got it into his head that if the negroes were made free he would be brought down to their level and compelled to go to work, and that was something he could not bear to think of.
Bud Goble did not know what secession meant, but he was strongly in favor of it, because the majority of the wealthy and influential citizens in and around Barrington favored it; and taking his cue from them, he not only turned the cold shoulder upon those who were suspected of being on the side of the Union, but went further and became their deadly enemy. Mr. Riley and the other members of the Committee of Safety knew all this, and yet they employed him, the most vindictive and unreliable man in the neighborhood, to keep them posted in regard to what the Union men and free negroes were doing and saying. It is not to be supposed that men of their intelligence would put much faith in his reports, but they furnished an excuse for resorting to high-handed measures, and that was really what the committee wanted.
Meanwhile Bud Goble was making the best of his way homeward, guided by the blaze from a light-wood fire on the hearth which shone through the open door. It was not such a home as the most of us would care to go to at night, for it was the most cheerless place in the country for miles around. Even the humblest cabin in Mr. Riley's negro quarter, half a mile away, was a more inviting spot. And as for the family who occupied it—well, a benighted traveler, no matter how tired and hungry he might be, would have gone farther and camped in the woods rather than ask supper and lodging of them.
"Now, Susie," exclaimed Mr. Goble cheerfully, addressing a slouchy, unkempt woman who sat in front of the fire with her elbows resting on her knees and a dingy cob pipe between her teeth, "punch up the blaze an' dish up a supper while I read my letter an' see what's into it."
"Who's been a-writin' a letter to you?" queried the woman, without changing her position.
"That's what I don't know till I read it. It's something about them babolitionists that our gover'ment has ordered to get outen here, I reckon. But I'm powerful hungry. I aint had a bite to eat sense I left in the mornin'."
"Well, then, where's the meal an' bacon I told you to fetch along when you come home?" inquired Mrs. Goble. "I told you plain as I could speak it that there wasn't a drop of anything to eat in the house; an' here's the young ones been a-howlin' for grub the whole day long."
"Land sakes, if I didn't forget all about it," said Goble regretfully. "But how on earth am I goin' to get grub when I aint got no money to pay for it? Our committee didn't give me no money to-day kase I didn't have nothing to tell 'em. 'Pears like all the traitors keep mighty glum when I'm around. See two or three of 'em talkin' together, an' they shet up the minute I begin to sidle up to 'em."
"You aint wuth shucks to work for that committee," replied his wife impatiently. "If I was a man an' had the job, I'd tell 'em something every hour in the day."
"How could you when there wasn't nothing to tell, I'd like to know?"
"I'd find plenty, I bet you. You haven't disremembered how them babolitionists an' the free niggers used to talk, about the time John Brown was makin' that raid of his'n, have you?"
"'Course I aint; but them's old stories now. They've kept mighty still tongues in their heads sense that time."
"No odds if they have. They was Union then, an' they're that same way of thinkin' now; an' the talk that would have hung 'em then, if our folks hadn't been jest the peaceablest people in the world, would get 'em into trouble now if it was brung up agin 'em."
"An' would you tell them stories all over agin if you was me?" exclaimedBud Goble.
"I wouldn't do nothing else."
"Jest as if they happened yisterday?"
"Toby sure. You want money, don't you? an' that there committee of yourn won't give you none 'ceptin' you can tell 'em sunthin', will they?"
"Now, that's an idee," exclaimed Mr. Goble, gazing admiringly at his wife. "I never onct thought of that way of doin'."
"You never think of nothing till I tell you what to do," said Mrs. Goble sharply. "You've had no end of good jobs that you could have made money on if you'd only worked 'em right, but you won't listen to what I tell you. I don't reckon you see how you could make money two ways outen the job you've got now, do you? You might go to all the Union folks, niggersan' whites, an' tell 'em that if they don't give you some clothes for your fambly to wear, an' grub for 'em to eat, you will have that there committee of yourn after 'em, mightn't you?"
"So I could," exclaimed Bud gleefully. "But I'll tell 'em I want money for keepin' still about what I've heard 'em say."
"You won't do nothing of the sort," said his wife almost fiercely. "If you get money, you'll set in to loafin' around Larkinses', an' I won't see none of it, nor any grub or clothes nuther. Look around the house an' into the cubboard an' see if you oughtn't to be ashamed of yourself for swillin' so much apple-jack. Get the grub, I tell you, an' give some on 'em a hint that you want an order on the store keeper to get me a new dress I've been needin' for the last six months. That's one way to make it pay. Then go to that committee an' tell 'em what you've heard them babolitionists an' free niggers say about John Brown bein' right in what he did, an' they'll give you sunthin' for bringin' 'em the news."
"But them old stories won't be news."
"No odds. They're what the committee wants, an' you're plumb blind that you can't see it."
Bud Goble placed his elbows upon his knees, fastened his eyes upon the glowing coals on the hearth, and took a minute or two to consider the matter. Then he got upon his feet and went out into the darkness without telling his wife where he was going or what he intended to do. But that did not trouble Mrs. Goble. She administered a hearty shake to one of the ragged children who querulously demanded to know why pap hadn't brung home sunthin to eat, and then filled a fresh pipe and lighted it with a brand from the fire.
Bud climbed the fence that ran between the road and the little barren pasture in which he permitted his pigs to roam (when he had any), worked his way through a narrow strip of woodland, and finally struck the lane leading from Mr. Riley's tobacco patch to the negro quarter a double row of whitewashed cabins in which the field-hands lived. A few minutes later, after making free use of a club with which he had taken the precaution to arm himself, and fighting his way through a battalion of coon dogs that assembled to dispute his progress, he opened the door of one of the cabins and entered without ceremony. If the occupants had been white folks, Bud wouldn't have done that; but who ever heard of a Southern gentleman knocking at a negro's door?
"What made you-uns set there like so many bumps on a log when you heard me comin'?" was the way in which he greeted Uncle Toby and his family, who were sitting in front of the fire resting after the labors of the day. "Why didn't you come out and shoo off them dogs of your'n? You'd best be mighty careful how you treat me, kase I'm a bigger man in this settle_ment_ nor you think I be. What's that you're shovin' out of sight behind your cheer? Let me have a look at it."
Uncle Toby was one of the most popular negro preachers in the county, and had been known to boast of the fact that he addressed a larger Sunday morning congregation than any white minister in Barrington. Bud Goble thought he was a dangerous nigger to have around, and often asked Mr. Riley why he did not "shut him up." But the planter only laughed and said that if old Toby could preach so much better than the Barrington ministers, he didn't think he ought to be deposed. So long as the darkeys who came into his grove of a Sunday had passes from their masters, it was all right; but there was something that was not all right, and it was the occasion of no little uneasiness and perplexity to Mr. Riley. By some hocus-pocus Toby had learned to read his Bible. There was nothing wrong in that, of course, but a darkey who could read his Bible would be likely to read papers as well; and from them, especially if they chanced to be Northern papers, he might imbibe some ideas that no slave had any business to entertain. It was said, and Bud Goble believed it, that Toby had a great deal to do with the "underground railroad" that had carried so many runaway negroes to freedom. You will be surprised when you hear that Bud was ignorant enough to take this expression literally. He really thought that some one had built a railroad under Barrington for the purpose of assisting discontented slaves to escape to Canada, and some of the wags at the military academy offered him a large sum of money if he would find it and conduct them to it, so that they might tear it up. Bud concluded that somewhere in the woods there must be a ladder or flight of stairs that led down to the railroad, and he spent days in looking for it. When Mr. Riley, taking pity on his ignorance, explained the matter to him, Bud was fighting mad; and ever since that time he had been watching for an opportunity to be revenged upon the boys who had played upon his credulity.
"Let me have a look at that there thing you was a-shovin' out of sight behine your cheer when I come in," repeated Bud, striding up to the fire-place and catching up the article that had caught his eye. "Looked to me like one of them 'sendiary papers, an' it is too. What business you got to be readin' like a white gentleman?" he added, slapping Toby on the head with the paper which he picked up from the floor.
"Oh, Marse Gobble," began Toby.
"'Tain't my name," howled Bud, who always got angry whenever anybody took liberties with his cognomen. "G-o don't spell Gob, does it? You can't read or spell alongside of me, but you know too much to be of any more use around here. Me and Mr. Riley b'long to the Committee of Safety, an' it's our bounden duty to take chaps like you out in the woods an' lick ye. What do you say to that?"
Old Toby was so very badly frightened that he could not say anything. He had been caught almost in the act of reading a copy of the New YorkTribune, and what would Mr. Riley say and do when he heard of it? The latter was known far and wide as a kind master. He gave his slaves plenty to eat and wear and never overworked them; but he believed as most of his class did, and it wasn't likely that he would deal leniently with one of his chattels who would bring a paper like theTribuneon the plantation, and afterward spread discontent among his fellows by preaching in secret the doctrines he found in it. Bud easily read the thoughts that were passing in the old negro's mind, and told himself that Susie deserved a new dress in return for the suggestions she had given him. He saw his advantage and determined to push it.
Toby was said to be the most thrifty and "forehanded" darkey in the settlement. Like all the rest of the black people on Mr. Riley's plantation he had a little garden-patch, and as he and his family were industrious enough to cultivate it properly, they had vegetables to sell at the "great house" and received cash in hand for them. Being a minister, he did not think it right to spend much for clothing or finery, and there were those who believed that he had a goodly sum of money laid by. Bud Goble knew that his larder was generally well supplied, and he had designs upon it now.
"What do you reckon your Moster would do to ye if I should take this here docyment to him an' tell him I found you a-readin' of it?" Bud demanded, looking sharply at Uncle Toby. "It's my duty to do it, kase I b'long to the same committee that he does, bein' one of the most respected an' prominent citizens of Barrington. That's the way my letters come."
"Marse Bud," replied the negro (he did not dare venture on the surname again for fear of exciting his visitor's wrath), "I didn't go for to do wrong—I didn't for a fac'. Dat paper was gin to me—oh, laws, what am I sayin'?"
"Speak it out, nigger," exclaimed Bud fiercely. "Who gin it to you, an' how did he come by it in the first place?"
"Suah I don't know how he come by it, Marse Bud," replied Toby, who was greatly alarmed. "I don't know what 'is name was, nudder, kase I nevah seed him afo'. Dat's de Lawd's truth."
"No, I don't reckon it is," answered Bud, with a grim smile. "But as I am here on other business, I won't say nothing more on that p'int at this meetin'. I'll sorter hold it over ye like an overseer's whip, ready to fall when you don't hoe your row like you had oughter. Do you want me to take this hereTrybuneto your Moster? Well, then, I want you to sell me some of that fine tobacker of your'n. You told me t'other day that you didn't have none; but I reckon you can find some if you look around."
"Mebbe so, sah," replied Toby, with alacrity. His store was growing small, but if by breaking into it he could purchase Bud Goble's silence, he was perfectly willing to do it. He knew that he would never see a cent for the tobacco, for Bud was much too hightoned to use "twist" when he had money to invest in "store plug." He left the room, and in a few minutes returned with three or four big "hanks," which he handed to his visitor with the request that the latter would accept them with his compliments.
"Didn't mean to rob ye, Toby," said Bud, as he wrenched a huge mouthful from one of the "hanks" to test the quality. "But I'll tell ye what's a fact. When I come home tonight, after a meetin' of that there Committee of Safety I was tellin' you about, I found that I had plumb disremembered to fetch along the bacon, meal, an' taters that my wife done told me to bring, an' so I thought I would jest run over an' see if I couldn't borry some of you to last me a few days."
Old Toby was astonished at the proposition. It was on the end of his tongue to refuse point-blank; but when he glanced at Bud he thought better of it. The latter was trying to look good-natured, but there was an expression on his face that brought all the negro's fears back to him with redoubled intensity. He saw very plainly that it would take more than a few twists of tobacco to make Bud Goble keep his lips closed.
"Ise got a little meal an' some few taters, Marse Bud," said Toby reluctantly. "But I tell you for a fac' dat de bacon we done drawed from de oberseer won't las' de week out for my own folks, let alone giving you some of it."
"Oh, well, I aint so sot on havin' bacon," replied Bud. "Give me two or three of them yaller-legged chickens of yourn, an' they will do jest as well. It's a mighty far ways back to town, an' I do despise walkin' there in the dark," he continued, seeing that Toby hesitated. "It's nigher to the great house, an' so I reckon I'll go up an' smoke a pipe with Riley."
"Set down, Marse Bud," cried Toby hastily. "Set down in dat cheer an' I'll have de things you want directly. An' say, Marse Bud, when I get 'em, will you give me dat paper?"
"Oh, yes; you can have the paper," said the visitor. And to show that he meant what he said, he tossed it upon the nearest shakedown.
"Thank you, sah; thank you kindly," said Toby, with the mental resolution that he would throw that tell-tale paper into the fire as soon as the visitor took his leave. "If I see dat man agin I'll tell him I don't want no mo' dat sort of trash to read. I'll be back in jes' a minute."
Toby was gone a good deal longer than that, but when he returned he brought with him two meal bags, partly filled, which he placed upon the floor beside Bud Goble's chair. The latter thrust his arm into them, one after the other, and found that the first contained corn meal enough to keep him and his hungry family in hoe-cake until he could earn money from the committee to buy more, and that there were three chickens and about a peck of potatoes in the other.
"That's what I'm a-needin'," said he, with a satisfied chuckle. "I bid you a kind goodnight, you an' your fambly; an' if I hear anybody talk about takin' you out in the bresh an' lickin' on ye, I won't let 'em."
Toby stood in the door to "shoo off the dogs," and drew a long sigh of relief when he saw his unwelcome guest disappear in the darkness.
"Dinah," said he, when he returned to the cabin, "de money you've got in dat stockin' of yourn has got to be buried in de groun' somewhar de first thing in de mawnin'. Ise dat skeared of having it in de house dat I can't sleep. I thought sure dat Gobble white trash man gwine ask for dat money."
Bud was not long in reaching home. He was so highly elated that he seemed to be treading on air, and the distance was passed over almost before he knew it. It was the source of great gratification to him to learn, by actual test, that his relations with the Committee of Safety put such power into his hands. There was one thing about it, he told himself: From that time forward he and his family would have more and better food to eat than they had ever had before, and be better clothed. If the scheme he had just put into operation would work once, he was positive it would succeed every time it was tried.
"There, now!" exclaimed Bud triumphantly, as he walked into his own house and dropped the bags by the side of his wife's chair. "Two heads are better'n one, if one is a woman's head. There's meal an' taters an' chickens; now go on an' dish up a good supper. I'll get your dress to-morrer."
"Where you goin' to get it?" inquired his wife, knocking the ashes from her pipe and rising from her seat. The knowledge that there was food in the house put a little energy into her, and at the same time quieted the complaining children.
"I'm workin' this job for all there is into it, let me tell you," replied Bud, taking his wife's pipe from her hand and filling it for his own benefit. "I ketched old preacher Toby with a babolition paper in his hand, an' that's the way I come to get the grub an' tobacker. To-morrer I'll go an' call on the storekeeper. He told me t'other day that he wouldn't trust me no more, but I kinder think he'll change his mind when I tell him that I'm onto that committee. An' then there's that Meth'dist preacher, Elder Bowen, who I suspicion gin Toby that babolitionTrybune.There's a heap of hams an' side-meat in that smokehouse of his'n, an' it sorter runs in my mind that I can talk him into givin' me some of it."
"An' did you speak to Toby about the money they say he's got hid somewheres?" asked Mrs. Goble, who was dressing two of the chickens preparatory to consigning them to the kettle, which she had placed upon the coals. "What business has he got to have money when white folks—"
"Set me down for a fuel!" exclaimed Bud, hitting his rheumatic leg such a slap that he could hardly repress the howl of anguish that arose to his lips. "There I was talkin' to him for as much as ten or fifteen minutes an' never onct thought of that money. Well, there's another day comin', an' Toby'll have to hand that money over or get whopped."
"An' if I was you," continued his wife, "I wouldn't say a blessed word to nobody about it. Keep your business to yourself, kase if you don't, them that helps you will want to share in what you get."
"Susie, you've got a long head an' that's a fac'," said Bud, who wondered why he had not thought of all these little things himself. "I'll bear them idees in mind. Now, punch up the fire a little an' let me see if I can read what's into this letter. One of the most prominent an' respected citizens of Barrington; that's what I be, an' the feller who writ to me knows it."
Having lighted his pipe and waited until the blaze from the fire had attained sufficient brightness, Bud drew the letter from his pocket and read aloud:
"Dear sir and frind i take my pen in hand to let you know that you aint doing as you had oughter do you are paid by the committee of safety to keep an eye on all the abolitionists in the kentry and you dont do it theres plenty of them in barington and a hul pile of them up to the cademy wich is a disgrace to the town them boys some of them is spiling for a licking sich as you and your frinds had oughter give them long ago but aint done it and had oughter have a little sense knocked into their heads why dont you send them warning to shet up or clear themselves outen the federasy like the govment says they must do inside of ten days theres that gray boy for one and that graham boy for an other but they aint no kin though theyre awful sassy and need looking to if you dont tend to business bettern this i shall have to see that the committee gets some body else in your place hurra for jeff davis and the south and long may she wave that is my moto."
Men of sense do not usually give a second thought to anonymous communications, but put them into the fire as soon as they ascertain their character; but Goble, of course, did not know this, and besides he was not that sort of a fellow. He was not strictly honorable himself, and was glad to receive hints, even if they came from a correspondent who was too much of a coward to sign his name to what he had written. He saw at once that he had been remiss in his duty, and the threat contained in the closing lines made him a little uneasy.
"Land sakes, I plumb forgot to keep an eye on them boys at the 'cademy," he said, as he folded the letter and prepared to return it to the envelope. As he did so, he found that there were a few lines written on the outside which he had not before noticed. They ran as follows:
"Them boys I spoke of that gray and graham boy are the verry ones who fooled you about that under ground rail road—"
When Bud read these words he hit his rheumatic leg another heavy blow, and jumped to his feet with a fierce exclamation on his lips.
"So them's the fellers that fooled me, are they?" he shouted, as soon as the pain in his leg would permit him to speak. "You haven't disremembered how they offered me a cool hundred dollars in gold if I would look around in the woods an' find the ladder or the stairs that led down to that railroad, have you, Susie? If it hadn't been for Riley I might have been lookin' for it yet. I said at the time that I would get even with them for that, but I couldn't seem to find no way to do it, kase I don't never have no dealin's with 'em; but I've got an idee now. I wisht I could think up some way to get them two out in the woods by theirselves. I'll have to have somebody to help me if I try that, Susie."
As that was very evident to Mrs. Goble she made no reply, but went on with her preparations for supper, while Bud smoked and meditated. When the chickens, potatoes, and hoe-cake were declared to be ready, he did not change his position, but grabbed what he wanted from the table, and devoured it while sitting by the fire and trying to conjure up some plan for making himself square with those fun-loving academy boys. He inferred that they had been preaching Union doctrines at the school, but Bud did not care a straw for that. He wanted to punish them for making him search for that underground railroad. When the dishes were cleared of everything eatable that had been placed upon them, and the table moved back to its place, Bud stretched his heavy frame on the ground in front of the fire and went to sleep, using his hat and boots for a pillow.
At an early hour the next morning another serious inroad was made upon the slender stock of provisions Bud had frightened out of old Uncle Toby, and then Bud shouldered his long squirrel rifle, which he carried with him wherever he went, and set out for Barrington, not forgetting to assure his wife that she might confidently expect him to bring that new dress when he returned at night. While he is on the way let us go back to the academy and see what is taking place there.
The sentries who were on duty at daylight took note of the fact that more than half the boys in school arose without waiting forreveille.Even a stranger would have known that there was something afoot. The students gathered in little groups in the corridors and held mysterious whisperings with one another, or sauntered around with their hands in their pockets, as if in search of something they were in no particular hurry to find; and while some seemed scarcely able to refrain from laughing outright and dancing hornpipes, the faces of others wore a resolute look that had a volume of meaning in it. Rodney Gray, with the flag of the Confederacy tucked safely under the breast of his coat, took a stroll about the building and grounds, looking sharply at every one he met, and finally drew off on one side to compare notes with some of his friends.
"I don't at all like the way the land lies," said he. "If Marcy and his gang haven't something on their minds, they certainly act like it. Graham, you know where the old flag is, do you not?"
"I do, for a fact. It is safe under lock and key, and in the keeping of one who knows how to take care of it," answered Dick.
"I wish I had insisted on seeing it destroyed the minute you got hold of it," continued Rodney. "Then I should know that there is no danger of its being hoisted again."
"I pledge you my word that you will never again set eyes on that flag as long as you remain at this academy," said Dick earnestly. "That assurance ought to satisfy you."
"Perhaps it ought, but it doesn't," Rodney took occasion to say to Billings and Cole a few seconds later, when Dick had gone off on some business of his own. "I wish now that some true Southern boy had had pluck enough to steal the flag, for then we should know where it is at this moment. Marcy and his friends certainly suspect something; and if they know that the colors are gone, they take it in an easy way I don't like."
"Dick has given his word that we shall never see the flag again, and I believe him," said Cole. "He is a good fellow and ought to be one of us."
"Oh, he will come out all right, and so will Marcy," said Billings confidently. "Wait till this excitement culminates in a fight, and then you will see a big change of opinion among these weak-kneed chaps. They expect a skirmish this morning and are prepared for it. We'll see fun before that new flag of ours goes up on the tower, and I'll bet on it."
"Boom!" said the gun, whereupon the drums began their racket, and the fifes piped forth the first strains of the morning call. The boys all started on the run for the court (a large glass-covered room in the center of the building which was used for morning inspection, and for drills and parades when stormy weather prevailed), and when the roll had been called, the sergeants of the several companies reported all present or accounted for. But still there were some boys missing, and no report was made as to their whereabouts. A familiar voice answered to Marcy Gray's name, but it was not Marcy's voice. Rodney's quick ear detected the cheat, and when ranks were broken he looked everywhere for his cousin, but he was not to be seen. With frantic gestures Rodney summoned a few of his right-hand men to his side and communicated his fears to them in hasty, whispered words.
"Seen Marcy during roll-call?" he inquired.
No one had. Didn't he answer to his name?
"No, he did not," replied Rodney, hastily scanning the faces of the students that filed by him on their way out of the court. "Somebody answered 'here,' but it wasn't Marcy. The sergeant must know where he is, for he reported the company present or accounted for."
"Doesn't that go to show that Marcy and the chap who answered to his name, as well as the sergeant himself, must be in some sort of a plot?" inquired Billings.
"I'll bet they are on the tower," declared Rodney. "Let's go up there, quick."
Rodney's friends did not at first see what Marcy could be doing on the tower, for had not Dick Graham assured them that the flag was all right, and that they would never see it hoisted again? But if Marcy suspected that his Cousin Rodney would make an effort to run up his new Confederate flag in place of the Stars and Stripes, might it not be that he and a chosen squad had taken possession of the tower, intending to hold it so that Rodney could not carry out his design? If that was the case there was bound to be a struggle more or less desperate, and Rodney's adherents would be expected to be on hand; so they followed him to the top of the tower, but halted when they got there, astonished and appalled at the scene that was presented to their gaze. The cousins were clinched and swaying about in alarming proximity to the low parapet, over which they were in imminent danger of falling to the ground; the sentry on duty was vainly endeavoring to part them by placing his musket between the struggling boys and crowding them toward the middle of the tower; and Marcy Gray was clinging to the halliards leading up to the masthead, from which the starry flag was floating in all its glory. It was not the old flag, however, but a newer and better one, whose glossy folds had never before been kissed by the breeze.
"Stop this!" shouted Cole, recovering himself by an effort and darting forward to assist in separating the angry and reckless boys. "Haven't you any sense left? A misstep on the part of one would be the death of both of you. Don't you know that the academy is four stories high, and that the tower runs up one story higher? Let go, Rodney. Give me those halliards, Marcy."
"Stand back, both of you!" cried the latter. "I'd rather go over than give up the halliards. If I had two hands I would very soon end the fracas, but I haven't a friend to hold the ropes while I defend myself."
[Illustration: THE STRUGGLE FOR THE FLAG.]
Perhaps he hadn't when he began speaking, but a second or two later he had plenty of them. Hasty steps sounded in the hall below and came up the ladder, and in less time than it takes to write it the top of the tower was covered with boys. The last one who came up turned about and slammed down the trap-door through which he had gained access to the roof. It was Dixon, the tall student who had compelled the orderly to fold the flag properly, and who afterward told Dick Graham right where to find it. Being a Kentuckian, he was just now "on the fence," and ready to jump either way, according as his State decided to go out of the Union or remain in it. He was opposed to secession, and that being the case, it was strange that he should afterward find himself enrolled among John Morgan's raiders, but that was right where he brought up. Although he was a close student, a good soldier, and one of the best fellows that ever lived withal, he was at any time ready for a fight or a frolic, and it didn't make any great difference to him which it was.
"Now," said he cheerfully, as he closed the trap-door behind him, "we can have a quiet squabble and no one can come up to interfere with us. But look here, boys," he added, stepping to the parapet and looking over. "It's a mighty far ways to the ground—five stories or so—and if you go down, you will be sure to get hurt. On the whole, I think we had better adjourn for a while."
Rodney knew just how to take these words. Like that notice in the post-office, "there was reading between the lines." Seeing that he and his friends were taken at disadvantage and greatly outnumbered, he thought it best to handle his cousin with a little less rudeness; but he would not cease his efforts to pull down that hated flag and hoist his own Stars and Bars until he was compelled to do so. He let go his hold upon his cousin and seized the halliards.