"Never mind the relationship," he yelled, when Marcy said that if Rodney were not his cousin he would be tempted to thrash him within an inch of his life. "I am more ashamed of it than you can possibly be. Let go those halliards."
"Looks as though there might be a slight difference of opinion between the parties most interested, and there's no telling who is Governor until after the election," said Dixon quietly. "But I respectfully submit that the top of a high tower is no place to settle a dispute that may end in a scrimmage. We don't want to begin killing one another until we have to, and there are two ways in which the matter can be arranged: Wait until after dark, and then go silently to the parade and have it over before anybody knows a thing about it, or else kiss and make friends right here."
Dick Graham, who had thus far kept himself on the other side of the belfry out of sight, broke into a loud laugh when Dixon, speaking with the utmost gravity, made the last proposition. Dick had a cheery, wholehearted laugh, and the effect was contagious. The laugh became general and finally such an uproar arose that the students at the foot of the tower, who had been watching proceedings on the top with no little interest and anxiety, pulled off their caps and joined in with cheers and yells, although they had not the faintest idea what they were cheering and yelling for. Marcy smiled good-naturedly as he looked into his cousin's face, but Rodney scowled as fiercely as ever. When anything made him angry it took him a long time to get over it. He was almost ready to boil over with rage when he caught his cousin in the act of hoisting a brand new flag in place of the one that had been stolen, and if his friends had only been prompt to hasten to his support, he would have torn that flag into fragments in short order. But they had held back and given Marcy's friends time to come to his assistance, and now there was no hope of victory. This made him believe that the boys who pretended to side with him were cowards, the last one of them.
"If I will give you the halliards, will you promise not to haul the colors down?" asked Marcy, who had no heart for trouble of this sort.
"I'll promise nothing," answered Rodney, in savage tones. "You and your gang have the advantage of me this time, but it will not be so when next we meet. Mark that."
"Hear, hear!" cried some of the boys.
"You shut up!" shouted Rodney. "You fellows are mighty ready to talk, but I would like to see you do something. As for you, Marcy, you are a traitor to your State. Let go those halliards."
"I'll not do it. Your ancestors and mine have fought under this flag ever since it has been a flag, and if I can help it, you shall not be the first of our name to haul it down."
"But that flag does not belong up there any longer, and I say, and we all say, that it shall not stay there. Here's our banner," exclaimed Rodney, and as he spoke he drew the Stars and Bars from under his coat and shook out its folds. "It's a much handsomer flag than yours, and if there's a war coming, as some of you seem to think, it will lead us to victory on every battle-field."
The sight of the Confederate emblem seemed to arouse a little martial spirit among Rodney Gray's friends. They cheered it lustily, and Rodney began to hope that they would make energetic and determined effort to run it up; but they lacked the courage. The disgusted Rodney told them in language more forcible than elegant that they were nothing but a lot of wind-bags.
"Sentry, you were stationed here to protect that flag," said Marcy, as he made the halliards fast to a cleat beside the door leading into the belfry.
"Are you officer of the day?" demanded the guard. "Then you are taking a good deal upon yourself when you presume to tell me what my duties are. Go below, the last one of you, or I will call the corporal."
"That is what you would have done long ago if you had been a good soldier, but I reckon he's coming without waiting to be called," observed Dixon, as an imperious knock, followed by the command to "open up here, immediately," was heard at the trapdoor. "Now, Rodney, don't let's have any more nonsense over the flag."
"I shall do as I please about that, and you can't help yourself," replied Rodney. "I'll settle the matter with you on the parade tonight, if you feel in the humor. That flag shall not float over this school with my consent."
"Then I am sorry to say that it will have to float without your consent. It will be time enough to make war upon it when the North makes war on us; and you will get plenty of that, I bet you. Now let's have a look at our friend below, who seems to be in something of a hurry to come up, and then we'll go down and attend to the business of the hour, which, I believe, means breakfast."
So saying Dixon raised the trap-door, revealing the flushed and excited faces of the commandant and officer of the day, who were most respectfully saluted when they entered the belfry.
"Young gentlemen, what is the meaning of this new outrage?" demanded the colonel angrily.
"A tussle over the flag, sir," replied Dixon, standing very stiffly and raising his hand to his cap. "The old one having mysteriously disappeared, it became necessary to hoist a new one, sir."
Of course the commandant knew long before this time that the colors had been taken from his bureau, and he knew, also, that the theft had been committed under cover of that sham fight in the hall; but he did not say a word about it. To be candid, he did not think it would be good policy to try to sift the matter to the bottom, for fear of implicating some profitable student whom he could not afford to expel. Being proprietor of the school, he desired to keep it intact as long as he could.
"And during the tussle two of your number came very near being precipitated to the ground," exclaimed the colonel. "I shall put a stop to this insubordination if I have to order the whole school into the guard-house."
"Very good, sir," answered the boys.
"Go downstairs, all of you," commanded the officer of the day. "SergeantRodney and Private Marcy Gray, report to me at once."
The students hastened down the ladder, wondering what was to be the result of this "new outrage." When they reached the hall one of them said, in tones loud enough to be heard by all his companions:
"Graham is a traitor. He stole the old flag, but he furnished a new one to be hoisted in its place."
"There's where you are wrong," exclaimed Marcy promptly. "Dick had nothing whatever to do with it, and when he saw this new flag, he was as much surprised as the rest of you were. I have had it concealed in my room for more than six weeks. I meant to be ready for you, you see."
"Where did you get it? if that is a fair question."
"It was made by a young lady who lives in Barrington, but of course you do not expect me to mention her name. She is true to her colors, and that's more than can be said in favor of you fellows who would have hauled it down if you had possessed the pluck."
"That was well put in, Marcy," said Rodney. "There isn't pluck enough among the whole lot of them to fit out a good-sized cat. If the Yankees should come down here, they could drive an army of such fellows with nothing but cornstalks for weapons."
The tone in which these words were uttered set Dick Graham going again, and he started all the rest that is, all except a few who were so angry they couldn't laugh. If that dread functionary, the officer of the day, heard the uproar, he must have thought that the culprits who had been commanded to report to him did not take their prospective punishment very much to heart.
Of course the boys who remained below were impatient to hear all about the things that had happened in and around the belfry, and to know what was going to be done with Rodney and his cousin. But the last was a point upon which no one could enlighten them, not even the cousins themselves when they came from the presence of the officer of the day, who had given them a stern reprimand and a warning. Being from Louisiana himself, and having offered his services to her in case they should be required, he bore down upon Marcy harder than he did upon Rodney, and even went so far as to try and convince the North Carolina boy that the word "traitor," which had so often been applied to him by his schoolmates, was deserved and appropriate. But Marcy could not look at it that way, and even in the presence of the man who could have shut him up in the guard-house, with nothing but bread to eat and water to drink, he did not "haul in his shingle one inch." He never had made any trouble in the school, and, what was more to the point, he did not intend to; but neither was he going to stand still and permit a lot of rebels to run over him. The colonel had said, in so many words, that the flag was to be hoisted every morning until further orders; and in hoisting a new one in the place of the one that had disappeared, he had not broken any rule. The officer knew that to be true, and as he could not punish one without punishing the other also, he was obliged to let them both go scot-free; but he detained Rodney a moment to whisper a word of caution to him.
"Don't let this thing be repeated," said he earnestly. "I think just as you do, and if I could have my own way, your flag would now be waving on the tower; but it is my duty to obey orders, and it is your duty as well. Don't make another move until this State joins the Confederacy, and then there will be no one to oppose you. The hoisting of another flag will break up the school, but that is to be expected. You may go."
"He said, in effect, that he would keep this thing hanging over our heads to see how we behave in future," said Rodney to Billings and Cole, who were in the hall waiting for him. "He is on our side, but not being the head of the school, he can't back us up as he would like to. But then this will keep," he added, once more shaking out his flag, which he had all the while carried under his arm. "I was afraid the teachers would take it away from me, but as they didn't, we'll hold ourselves in readiness to run it up when the other is ordered down."
But the incidents of the morning, exciting as they were, did not long monopolize the attention of the students, or remain the principal subjects of discussion. They were forgotten the minute the mail was distributed, for of course their papers contained news from all parts, and the boys made it their business to keep posted. There was one thing the papers had already begun to do that excited derisive laughter among all the sensible boys in school. They called dispatches from the North "Foreign Intelligence." But there were some, like Rodney Gray, who could not see that that was anything to laugh at, and following the lead of their favorite journals in politics, they soon learned to follow their vocabulary also, and always spoke of the North as "the United States," and of the South as "the Confederate States."
When the adjutant's call was sounded Marcy Gray fell in with the other members of his company who had been warned for duty, and marched to the parade-ground to go through the ceremony of guard-mounting. Immediately after that he went on post in a remote part of the grounds, a favorite place with the sentries on hot summer days, for the woods on the other side came close up to the fence, and the trees threw a grateful shade over the beat. The only order the boy he relieved had to pass, was a simple as well as a useless one. It was to "keep his eye peeled for that fence and not permit anybody to climb over it"; but Marcy listened as though he meant to obey it. Then the relief passed on, and he was left alone with his thoughts, which, considering the incidents connected with that skirmish on the tower, were not the most agreeable company.
He had been there perhaps a couple of hours, out of sight of everybody, when he was brought to a stand-still by a rustling among the bushes on the other side of the fence, and presently discovered old Toby looking at him over a fallen log. A smile of genuine joy and relief overspread the black man's features when he saw who the vigilant sentry was, and he immediately got upon his feet and came to the fence.
"The top of the morning to you, parson," said Marcy pleasantly. "You act as though you might be looking for some one."
"Sarvent, sah," replied Toby. "I is for a fac' lookin' for you, an' nobody else. I was up to de gate, an' Marse Dick Graham done tol' me you down heah. You-uns gwine get in de biggest sort of trouble, you an' Marse Dick, an' I come heah to tol' you."
"I assure you we are grateful to you for it," answered the boy, with a smile. "But how are we going to get into trouble? Talk fast, for I have no business to hold any communication whatever with you."
"Dat white trash, Bud Gobble; he's de man," began Toby. "You an' Marse Dick done sont him into de woods to look for de way to dat underground railroad—"
Marcy leaned upon his musket, threw back his head, and laughed heartily but silently, for he did not want to bring the corporal of the guard down to his post until he had heard what the old negro had to tell him.
"Dat's jes' what you-uns done, Marse Marcy," continued Toby. "An' now dat man gwine tote you bofe out in de woods an' lick you like he was de oberseer an' you two de niggahs."
When Marcy heard this he did not know whether to laugh again or get angry over it. As time was precious he did neither, but began questioning Toby, who told a story that made the boy open his eyes. When it was concluded the fact was plain to Marcy that somebody had been trying to get him and Dick Graham into trouble; but who could it be? He knew that he had been airing his Union sentiments rather freely, but he wasn't aware that he had made any enemies by it. He wished the hour for his relief would hasten its coming, so that he might compare notes with Dick.
"You think it was the letter Bud received that put all these things into his head, do you?" said he, after a moment's reflection.
"You haven't any idea who wrote the letter or what else there was in it?"
"No sah, I aint. I wish't I had, so't I could tell you."
"Bud Goble mentioned Dick's name and mine while he was threatening us, did he?" continued Marcy.
"He did for a fac'. I didn't hear him, kase I wasn't dar; but Elder Bowen's niggah Sam was in de store when he 'buse de storekeeper, an' he was at de house when he come dar an' 'buse de elder for a babolitionist. You-uns want look out, Marse Marcy. Dat man mean mischief, suah's you born."
"Don't be uneasy," replied Marcy. "If Mr. Goble thinks he is going to catch us napping, he will find himself mistaken. I should like to see him and his friends come to this school and try to carry out their threats. There are plenty of Union boys among the students, parson."
"I'se suspicioned dat all along, sah, an' I'se mighty proud to hear you say so; I is for a fac'. Dere's a few of 'em in de settle_ment_, but I'se mighty jubus what will happen to 'em when Marse Gobble gets on de war-paf, like he say he gwine do. He say he gwine lick de las' one."
"Then it is high time he was put under lock and key," said Marcy indignantly. "I hope if he goes to Mr. Bowen's house the elder will turn loose on him with that double-barreled shotgun of his."
"He say dat's what he allow to do; but I dunno," replied the old negro, shaking his head and looking at the ground as if he felt that troublous times were coming upon the earth. "It's gwine be mighty hot about yer, an' I dunno what we niggahs gwine do. I wish dem babolitionists up Norf shet dere moufs an' luf we-uns be. Dey gwine get us in a peck of trouble."
"And such fellows as Bud Goble seem perfectly willing to help it on," said Marcy, whose indignation increased, the longer he dwelt upon the details of the story Toby had told him. "For two cents I would muster a squad and go down to his shanty and turn him out of doors. We'll do something of the kind if the authorities do not put a curb on him."
[Illustration: MARCY REFUSES TO TAKE CHARGE OF OLD TOBY'S MONEY.]
"But deyhirehim to do all dis meanness, Marse Marcy," exclaimed the negro. "He 'longs to dat committee."
"Don't you believe any such stuff. It is likely that he is in the pay of that committee, and more shame to them, but he doesn't belong to it. Now you run away, parson, because—"
"Hol' on, please, sah," interrupted the old man. "I want ax your device. I got a little money—not much, but jes' a little" (here he pulled from one of his capacious pockets a stocking filled half-way up the leg with something that must have been heavy, judging by the care he took in handling it),—"an' I'm that skeared of havin' it in de house dat I can't sleep. Marse Gobble 'lows to steal bacon an' taters of me now as often as he gets hungry, an' de fust ting I know he ax me for dis money; den what I gwine do? Take keer on it for me, please, sah."
"Why, parson, you're rich," said Marcy, reaching through the fence and "hefting" the stocking in his hand. "Is this all silver? Where did you get so much?"
"I earn it ebery cent, an' sabe it, too," answered Toby, with some pride in his tones. "It's all mine, but I 'fraid I aint gwine be 'lowed to keep it, now dat de wah comin'."
"I think myself that it will bring you trouble sooner or later. You ought never to have told anybody that you had it."
"Who? Me, sah? I never tol' de fust livin' soul in dis world. It got round de quarter some way, I dunno how, an' some of dem fool niggahs had to go an' blab it. Will you take keer on it for ole Toby, sah?"
"If I were going to stay in this part of the country I would do it in a minute," answered Marcy. "But I am liable to leave here at an hour's notice, and what should I do with it if I did not have time to take it to your cabin? Give it to your master, and ask him to take care of it for you."
"Oh, laws! Marse Riley secession de bigges' kind," exclaimed Toby, with a gesture which seemed that such a proposition was not to be entertained for a moment.
"No matter for that," replied Marcy. "He's honest, and what more do you want? He is a kind master, the best friend you have in the world, and you don't want to keep anything from him. Come to think of it, I wouldn't take the money, even if I were going to stay here. Go to Mr. Riley with it."
"You won't take keer on it for de ole niggah?" said Toby, who was very much disappointed. "Den I reckon I'd best bury it somewhars in de ground."
"You will surely lose it if you do that," protested Marcy. "Does Bud Goble know you've got it? Well, if he gets after you, he'll thrash you till you will be glad to tell where you have concealed it; but if you can tell him that it is in Mr. Riley's hands, he'll not bother you or the money, either. Now run along, parson. I see a uniform over there among the trees, and I shouldn't be surprised if the corporal was inside of it."
The old negro hastened into the woods, hiding the stocking somewhere about his patched clothes as he went, and Marcy brought his piece to "support arms," and paced his beat while waiting for the corporal to come up. It wasn't the corporal, after all, but a private like himself, who had come out to study his lesson and roll about on the grass. He did not speak to the sentry, but he was so close to him that Marcy could not have held any more private conversation with old Toby.
"It is nothing more than I expected," thought Marcy, recalling some of the incidents the negro had described to him. "Union men all over the South have been the victims of hotheaded secessionists, like those who compose that Committee of Safety, and now we're going to have the same sort of work right here in our midst. I don't believe that Bud Goble has organized a company for the purpose of running Northern sympathizers out of the State; he said that just to frighten Toby and a few others. But if he has, I hope he will bring them up here some night and try to take Dick Graham and me out of the building. I am glad those men had the courage to defy him to his face, and wish I could have seen Bud about the time the elder was walking him out of the yard."
It would seem from this that old Toby had told Marcy some things we do not know, and that Bud Goble's plans were not working as smoothly as he could have wished. Let us return to Bud and see where he was and what he had been doing since he took leave of his wife in the morning.
He left home with a light heart and a pocketful of bullets, and took a short cut through the woods toward Barrington. A few of the bullets were to be expended upon such unwary small game as might chance to come in his way, and with the rest, if circumstances seemed to require it, intended to make a show of being ready for business. He struck a straight course for the little grocery and dry-goods store, at which he had for years been an occasional customer, and thought himself fortunate to find the proprietor in. He was busy dusting the counter, but he was not alone. There were three or four others present, and when we tell you that they were Bud Goble's intimate friends, you will know just what sort of men they were.
"Mornin'," said Bud cheerfully. "Famblies all well? Mine's only jest tol'able, thank ye. What's the news?"
"There aint none," was the reply from one, to which the others all assented. "Are there any with you?"
"Well," said Bud slowly, at the same time edging around so that he could keep an eye on the storekeeper and note the effect his words produced upon him. "I don't rightly know what you-uns call news. I reckon you-uns heared that I was workin' for that Committee of Safety, didn't you?"
They had heard something of it in a roundabout way. Was there any money in the job, and what was he expected to do?
"There's a little money into it," answered Bud. "Jest about enough to pay me for my time an' trouble, but no more. I've gin some of them loud-talkin' folks, who think a nigger is as good as a white man, notice that they had best cl'ar outen the 'Federacy before they are drove out, an' go up to the United States among them that believe as they do."
"An' it sarves 'em jest right," observed one of Bud's friends, helping himself to a handful of crackers. "I'd like to see the last one of 'em chucked out bag an' baggage. But s'pose they wont go?"
"I'm hopin' they wont, for that's where the fun'll come in. That'll give we-uns—"
Just at this moment Bud was interrupted by the entrance of "Elder Bowen's nigger Sam," who removed his hat respectfully and kept on to the counter where the storekeeper was at work. Bud and his friends listened and heard him say:
"I aint got no change dis mawnin', Mr. Bailey, but—"
"That's all right, Sam," Mr. Bailey hastened to reply. "You are an honest workingman, and your credit is good. What did you say you wanted? A dress and a pair of shoes for your old woman? Well, how will these suit you?"
"Dog-gone the nigger, why didn't he keep away a little longer?" whispered Bud. "Them's the very things I wanted, an' mebbe ole man Bailey won't want to trust two fellers at once."
"Then lick him," suggested one of his friends. "He's nobody but a babolitionist, anyway."
"That's what I allow to do," answered Bud.
When the negro had received the goods he asked for, he leaned against the counter as if he were in no particular hurry to go away. This suited Bud, who drawled, in lazy tones:
"Yes; I've warned some of them nigger-lovers that they aint wanted here no longer'n it'll take 'em to get out, but I am hopin' they won't leave, kase that's where the fun'll come in. I'm gettin' up a company of minute-men to sorter patrol the kentry hereabouts, an' them that don't do to please us we are goin' to lick, niggersan' whites. We jest aint goin' to have no more talkin' agin the 'Federacy, an' them that's for the North kin go up there. That's what the committee says. Will you-uns jine?"
Of course they would, to a man, and they would like nothing better. They were ready at any time to prove their devotion to the Confederacy by thrashing or hanging everybody, whiteandblack, who did not believe that secession and disunion were the best things that could happen for the South. Then Bud, seeing that he had plenty of backing, waxed eloquent and made a short but stirring speech. He dwelt upon the wrongs and insults that had been heaped upon the Southern States ever since they had shown themselves foolish enough to join the Union; denied that a black man was as good as a white gentleman; loudly proclaimed that all Northerners, as well as those who thought as they did, were cowards; denounced as traitors all Southern men who did not shout for President Davis, and said they ought and must be whipped out of the country; and through it all he kept watch of the two at the counter to see what impression his patriotic words made upon them.
Mr. Bailey was a little man who carried the weight of sixty-five years upon his shoulders, and Bud talked for his especial benefit, hoping to frighten him into compliance with the demands he was about to make upon him. Mr. Bailey was opposed to secession, and never hesitated to say so when politics came up for discussion, as they often did among his customers; but Bud was sure the old fellow was frightened now. He did not say a word in reply, but used his brush with more energy, and now and then rapped the counter with the back of it; and these, Bud thought, were unmistakable signs of timidity or, at least, nervousness.
As for darkey Sam, there was no doubting the impression Bud's eloquence made upon him. He was greatly terrified, for he remembered that his master had once denounced secession from the pulpit, and told the members of his congregation just what they might make up their minds to endure if it were consummated. Possibly Bud Goble recalled the circumstance, for he looked very hard at Sam while he was talking. As soon as the speech was brought to a close Sam sidled along toward the door, looking into the show-cases as he went, and presently found himself safe on the porch. Then he clapped his hat on his head and started for home post-haste.
"I reckon he's gwine tell the parson what you said," exclaimed one of Bud's friends. "Well, I do think Elder Bowen is one of the dangerousest men in the whole kentry, an' that he'd oughter be snatched outen that church of his'n before he has time to preach up any more of them pizen docterings. Warned him yet?"
"No; but I allow to do it soon's I get through with my business yer," replied Bud, throwing his rifle into the hollow of his arm, and sauntering up to the counter where Mr. Bailey stood. He affected a careless, confident swagger, which was by no means indicative of his feelings. Now that he could look closely at him he found that the storekeeper wasn't frightened enough, and that his speech had not accomplished half as much as he meant to have it. "You don't seem to be right peart this mornin'," he continued. "What's the matter of ye?"
"Nothing whatever," answered Mr. Bailey. "I'm as gay as a lark.Something wanted?"
"I reckon," replied Bud. "I want the same things you gin that there nigger a minute ago—a dress an' a pair of shoes for my ole woman."
"Got any money to pay for 'em?"
"Not jest this minute, but I shall have plenty this evening, an' then mebbe I'll—"
"Can't help it," said Mr. Bailey, shaking his head.
"Wont you trust me?"
"No, I won't. I told you so the other day, and when I say a thing of that sort I mean it."
"Do you give credit to a nigger before my face an' eyes, an' then refuse it to a white gentleman?" shouted Bud. "What do you do that-a-way for?"
"I run my business to suit myself," answered Mr. Bailey, without the least show of irritation. "If you don't like it, go somewhere else with your trade. I don't want it, any way."
"You think a nigger better'n a white man, do ye?" yelled Bud, growing red in the face. "What do you say to that, boys? Look a here," he added. "Mebbe you don't know who I am. I've got the power an' the will, too, to turn you houseless an' homeless into the street before you see the sun rise agin."
"I'll make moonlight shine through you while you are doing it," said the old man boldly.
"You will?" Bud brought his fist down upon the counter with tremendous force, and then he dived down into his pocket and brought out a handful of bullets, which he placed before the storekeeper. "Do you see them? I want to warn ye that they was molded a-purpose to be shot into traitors like yerself; an' I brung 'em along to show ye—"
"Take 'em off the counter. I've just dusted it," interrupted Mr. Bailey; and with the words he hit the bullets a blow with his brush that sent them in every direction.
Bud Goble was astounded, and so were his friends, who had never dreamed that there was so much spirit in that little, dried-up man. The former looked at him a moment, and then he looked at the bullets that were rolling about on the floor.
"Come around yer an' pick 'em up, the very last one of 'em, an' say yer sorry ye done it, an' that you'll never do the like agin, or I'll take ye up by the heels an' mop the floor with ye," said Bud, in savage tones. "Come a-lumberin'."
"Pick 'em up yourself, and next time keep 'em off my counter," was Mr.Bailey's answer. "What did you put them there for, any way?"
A glance at his friends showed Bud that they expected him to do something, and he dared not hesitate. He handed the nearest man his rifle to hold for him, peeled off his coat, gave a yell that was heard a block away, and was about to jump up and knock his heels together, when he happened to look toward Mr. Bailey, and stopped as if he had been frozen in his tracks. The old man was waiting for him. He leaned against a shelf behind the counter, but he held a cocked revolver in his hand.
[Illustration: MR. BAILEY ASTONISHES BUD GOBLE.]
Did Bud Goble leap over the counter and wrench the threatening weapon from Mr. Bailey's grasp with one hand, while he throttled him with the other? We are obliged to say that he did not. He stood quite still, for something told him it would be dangerous to do anything else. This was the first time his courage had ever been tested, and he was found wanting; but, strange as it may appear, his friends did not think any the less of him for it. Under like circumstances they would have showed the same reluctance to pass the intervening counter. It was not Bud's lack of courage, but Mr. Bailey's pluck, that excited their ire. The latter had insulted their friend by refusing him the credit he had granted a field-hand, and now he had gone so far as to threaten Bud with a weapon. It opened their eyes to the fact that Union men were dangerous things to have in the community, and that they ought to have been driven out long ago.
"Sile, you've got the rifle," said Bud, who gained courage when his friends closed about him. "Why don't you draw a bead on him an' make him put that thing down?"
"Can't ye see for yourself that he's got the drop?" replied Silas, who thought discretion the better part of valor.
"Laws-a-massy, what's the matter of ye?" exclaimed Bud. "He dassent shoot."
"I don't b'lieve in fightin' no man when he's got the drop," repeated Silas. "Put on yer coat an' take yer rifle, Bud. This aint the onliest day there is in the world, an' the next time you ax him for the credit he's willin' to give a nigger, mebbe he'll hearken to ye."
"Pervided he's able to hearken to anything," observed another. "Look a-here, ole man, we-uns don't want sich chaps as you be in the kentry."
"I can easily believe that, but I don't see what you are going to do about it," answered the storekeeper, still holding the revolver so that he could cover Bud or any of his friends in a second of time. "I paid for this property with my own money, and I intend to stay here and enjoy it; and if any of you dispute my right to do so, I'll make it warm for you. Now clear out, the whole of you, and don't ever darken my doors again. I'll not sell you any goods if you come with your pockets full of cash."
"We-uns will go this time, kase we aint ready to begin business jest yet," said Bud, reaching out his hand for his rifle, but taking good care not to point it in Mr. Bailey's direction. "But we'll come agin when you aint lookin' for us, an' then you will want to watch out. We're goin' to drive all you babolitionists outen the kentry, as well as them fellers up to the 'cademy; an' as for that Gray an' Graham boy, who aint no kin if their names is alike, we're goin'—"
Here Bud was interrupted by a poke in the ribs given by one of his companions, who did not think it prudent for him to say anything about his plans, if he had any in mind. But he had already revealed enough to interest Mr. Bailey, who was a firm friend to both the boys whose names had been mentioned.
"Those fellows never did you any harm," said he.
"Didn't, hey?" vociferated Bud.
"No, they didn't. They bought quinine right here in this store to cure your wife and children of the ague when you did not have a cent or credit, either; and they paid the doctor to go and see them when you were loafing around, too lazy to do anything but eat. If you fool with those students you'll get something you won't like. You'll have them all on you."
"I aint speakin' about them things," shouted Bud, as soon as he could frame a suitable reply. "They're for the Union, dog-gone 'em. An' didn't they go an' offer me money to look for that there underground—"
"Haw, haw!" roared the storekeeper, at the same time raising the muzzle of his revolver to a level with Bud's head, when the latter, almost overcome with rage, made a motion as if he were about to draw his rifle to his shoulder. "That underground railroad business was a joke on you, wasn't it? But you don't want to fool with Rodney and Dick, for if you do you will get the worst of it. The students will all help them. Besides, Rodney is as wild a secessionist as you ever dare be."
"'Taint so," exclaimed Bud. "I know better."
"And Dick Graham stands ready to go with his State the minute she pulls down the old flag and runs up the new one," continued Mr. Bailey. "He said so the other day when he came in here for a pint of goobers [peanuts]."
"I tell ye it aint so," repeated Bud confidently. "Bein' one of the most prominent and respected citizens of Barrington, I got a letter tellin' me all about them chaps an' the docterings they're preachin' up. I was told that the committee wants me to 'tend to their cases, an' I'm goin' to do it; an' to your case too. Hear me, don't you?"
"Who wrote that letter?" inquired the storekeeper, who did not think it necessary to answer the question.
"I don't know. There wasn't no name hitched to it."
"Then the writer was a coward," said Mr. Bailey, in a tone of contempt, "and you ought not to pay the least attention to it. Somebody wants to bring those boys into trouble, and hopes to use you as a tool. If you will take advice you will mind your own business and let those students alone. Look here, Goble," he added suddenly, "if this State goes out of the Union, will you go with her?"
"You jest bet I will. I'll go whether she does or not."
"Will you join the army and fight for her?"
"Sartingly."
"Well, we'll see who will go first—you or I."
"You? Why, dog-gone it, you're for the Union."
"Of course I am; always was and always shall be; but as I can't control my State, I shall have to do as she does. So you see, when you tried to gouge me out of a pair of shoes and a dress awhile ago, you tried to rob as good a friend of the South as you are yourself. I'll make it my business to see some of that committee and find out whether or not they uphold you in such doings. Now, clear out and don't bother me again."
Almost involuntarily Bud Goble and his friends turned toward the door, and Mr. Bailey followed them, revolver in hand, to make sure that they went without trying to "get the drop" on him. As they faced about, "Elder Bowen's nigger Sam" glided across the porch, but they did not see him.
We said the negro, who was alarmed by Bud Goble's fiery speech, started for home, and so he did; but he had not made many steps before he heard Goble's voice pitched in a high key, and prompted by curiosity, and a desire to learn something of the nature and purposes of that company of minute-men of whom Bud had spoken, he came back and took his stand beside the open door out of sight. The slaves were all eavesdroppers in those days, and if anything escaped their notice and hearing, it was not their fault. They were better posted and took a deeper interest in the affairs of the day than many people supposed. The Northern papers, which now and then in some mysterious way came into their hands, just as theTribunecame into Uncle Toby's hands, told them the truth; while the white people around them pinned their faith to the falsehoods disseminated by the secession press. Sam stood on the porch and heard all that was said and saw all that was done in the store; and when Mr. Bailey brought the interview to a close by ordering Bud and his companions to "clear out," Sam made haste to get away before they caught sight of him. This time he went home and hunted up his master, who was at work in the garden.
Bud Goble had encountered an obstacle where he had least expected to find it; but although he was surprised, and a little disheartened, he would not admit that he was beaten. All Union men could not be as plucky as Mr. Bailey was, and Bud determined to try his plan again as soon as he could rid himself of the company of his four friends. He had no use for them just now, and if he succeeded in frightening Mr. Bowen into giving him a ham or a side of bacon, he did not want to be obliged to share it with any one.
"That's a trifle the beatenest thing I ever heared of," declared Silas, who was the first to speak. "I do think in my soul that that ole man oughter be dealt with. When does that company of your'n meet, Bud, an' how are we-uns goin' to get into it?"
"We aint met nowheres yet, an' to tell you the truth, I aint got the 'rangements fairly goin'," was the answer. "What I meant to say was, that I have been thinkin' of sich a thing; an' you can see from what happened in the store that a company of that sort is needed, can't you? S'pose you-uns talk it up. 'Pears like we'd oughter get twenty fellers of our way of thinkin' together, an' if we can, jest see how much help we-uns could be to that committee of our'n. Tell 'em what you've seen an' heared this mornin', that the kentry is full of sich men as Bailey is, an' that we aint goin' to have 'em here no longer. Now, where'll I find you-uns agin in about an hour so't we can talk it over? I'll be back directly I 'tend to a little private business I've got on hand."
The place of meeting having been agreed upon, Bud hastened away, confidently expecting to be successful in the attempt he was about to make to frighten a supply of provisions out of the Methodist minister. Elder Bowen did not believe in fighting, and of course it would be easy to make him open his smoke-house as often as he chose to demand it. Besides, Bud was made happy by a brilliant idea that suddenly popped into his mind; and in order that there might be no hitch in it at the critical time, he turned toward the post-office, hoping that he might find Mr. Riley there. He was not disappointed. Mr. Riley and a good many other planters about Barrington had taken to loitering around the telegraph and post offices during the last few months, and were generally to be met there or in the immediate neighborhood.
"Well, Goble, what is the news to-day?" he inquired, as Bud drew near and intimated by a wink that he would like to see him privately. There had been a time when Mr. Riley would have resented anything like familiarity on the part of such a man as Goble, but now that he wanted to use him, he was forced to treat him with a faint show of friendship.
"I don't get a bit of news of no kind," answered Bud, in a whining tone. "'Pears like the babolitionists all shet up their mouths soon's I come around. I've warned a few of 'em, but I aint seen no money for my trouble yet. My time is wuth a dollar and a quarter a day, an' when I give it all, it looks to me as though I oughter be paid for it; don't it to you?"
"Certainly," replied the planter, putting his hand into his pocket. "Our committee hasn't been organized long enough to get into working order yet, and so I shall have to give you something out of my own funds. How will that do to begin on?" he added, slipping a few pieces of silver into Bud's ready palm. "Go ahead with your work and come to me when you want anything. Whom have you warned?"
"Sarvent, sah," said Bud, pocketing the money. "Thank you very kindly, sah. Well, I've warned that there ole man Bailey, for one. He's pizen."
"Let him alone," said Mr. Riley, rather shortly.
"Why, he's Union the wust kind," exclaimed Bud, who was astonished as well as disappointed. He had hoped that the planter would tell him to drive the storekeeper out of town, and so furnish him and his friends with an excuse for any act of ruffianism they might be disposed to indulge in. "He'd oughter be whopped, ole man Bailey had, an' drove out before he has any more time to preach his docterings up amongst the niggers."
"You let him alone," repeated Mr. Riley. "He will come out all right.When the first gun is fired he will be as warm a secessionist as I am.Who else have you warned?"
Bud mentioned the names of three or four suspected men whom he had neither seen nor heard of for a week or more, and finally said that he was on his way to Elder Bowen's to tell him that he could not get out of the country any too quick.
"I don't care what you say or do to that man," exclaimed Mr. Riley, who grew angry at the sound of the minister's name. "He is dangerous, and always has been. He takes abolition papers. I don't know how they come into his hands, the mail being so closely watched, but he gets them, and I suspect gives them to Toby to read. If I could prove it on him, I would have him whipped this very night."
Bud Goble opened his lips to tell Mr. Riley that he could furnish him with all the evidence he needed, but suddenly remembered that that was something he intended to use for his own benefit. That was what he was holding over Toby like an overseer's whip, ready to fall whenever he didn't hoe his row right, and it was no part of his plan to expose the old negro unless the latter declined to keep him in provisions, or refused to surrender his money on demand. So he said nothing about finding that copy of theTribunein Toby's cabin the night before, but came at once to the point he desired to reach.
"Then there's them boys up to the 'cademy," said he. "They need lookin' after, some of 'em, the very wust kind."
"I've heard that the school of which we have been so proud is a hotbed of treason, but I can hardly believe it," answered Mr. Riley. "No doubt there is strong love for the old Union there, as there is here in Barrington; but when the time for action comes, I think the majority of those boys will go with their States."
"But there's that Gray an' Graham boy," continued Goble; and it made him angry to notice that Mr. Riley could scarcely refrain from laughing outright. "If they was poor boys do you reckon they'd be allowed to hold out agin the 'Federacy like they do, an' talk agin it? I'll bet they wouldn't. But they are all rich. I reckon them boys' paps is wuth a power of money an' niggers."
"I don't know anything about Graham's family, but Rodney's is wealthy. His father has six hundred blacks on one plantation. You want revenge, don't you? Well, I don't see how you are going to get it, for if you fool with any of the students the others will jump on you, sure."
"Not if we whop the traitors," exclaimed Bud.
"Yes, they will. They are as clannish as a drove of wild hogs, and if one squeals the others will rush to his assistance. You had better take my advice and pocket the insult Rodney and Dick put upon you when they sent you to look for that underground railroad. Now I think I will go to the telegraph office and see if there is anything new from Montgomery. Keep us posted, for we like to know who our enemies are."
"You bet I will," soliloquized Bud as he turned away, jingling the silver pieces in his pocket as he went. "But I won't let them two boys get off easy, nuther. Six hundred niggers on one plantation. They're wuth eight hundred dollars, I reckon, take 'em bigan' little, an' that would make 'em all wuth—"
When Bud reached this point he stopped and shook his head. Finding the value of six hundred slaves at an average price of eight hundred dollars was too much arithmetic for him. He was obliged to content himself with the knowledge that Rodney's father was worth a good deal of money, and that Rodney would give five hundred and perhaps a thousand dollars, rather than be whipped as if he were a black boy. A Southern youngster, no matter how disobedient and unruly he might be, considered it a disgrace to be whipped, and the school-teacher who ventured upon corporal punishment was likely to get himself into serious difficulty. While Bud was turning these things over in his mind, he came within sight of Elder Bowen's house.
"Riley don't care what I do to this chap," said he to himself. "That means that I can be as sassy as I please, an' mebbe I'll make up my mind that I'd better lick him before I leave. I'll wait an' see how he acts when I ax him for some of the things he's got into his smokehouse. Tell your moster I want to see him directly," he added, addressing a little black boy who was playing at the foot of the steps that led to the porch.
The pickaninny disappeared, but in a few minutes returned with the announcement—
"Marse Joe workin' in de ga'den, an' he say if you want see him you best come wha' he is."
"That's an insult that I won't put up with from no babolitionist," declared Bud, who was about as angry as he could hold; and one would have thought, from the vicious way he settled his rifle on his shoulder and crunched the gravel under his feet as he strode around the house, that he would surely do something when he found himself face to face with the object of his wrath.
The first thing that attracted the visitor's attention was a very broad back covered by a clean white shirt (Bud detested "boiled" shirts, for he had never had one of his own), and when the owner of that back straightened up and turned toward him, Bud was confronted by a man who stood six feet four without his boots, and was built in proportion. He had tucked up his sleeves to keep them from being soiled, and the white forearms thus exposed were as muscular as a blacksmith's. He had been waiting for this visit, for his boy Sam, who came from town a quarter of an hour before, had told him just what happened in the store, and warned his master that Bud had said in his speech that he was on the war-path, and meant to drive every abolitionist out of the country before he quit. But for all that the minister greeted Bud pleasantly.
"Well, neighbor Goble, what do you find to shoot this time of year?" said he. "It is rather early for young squirrels, and turkey and deer will not be on the game list before September."
"I aint a-lookin' for little game," answered Bud gruffly. "I'm huntin' for babolitionists, an' you're one of 'em."
"Well, now that you have found me what do you purpose doing about it?" inquired the stalwart minister, smiling at Bud in a way the latter did not like. Perhaps it wasn't going to be so easy, after all, to frighten him into handing over a ham or a side of meat.
"I came here pur_pose_ly to tell you that you an' your kind aint wanted round yer no longer," said Bud. "You take babolition papers an' give 'em to old Toby to read."
"Can you prove that assertion?"
"Yes, I can. I seen one of 'em in his shanty last night, an' had it into my hand."
"But can you prove that I gave it to him?"
"Yes, I can," repeated End, growing bolder by degrees. "Everybody in town says it's you who spreads them papers around, kase there's no one else who is low enough down to 'sociate with niggers."
"That will do. I have heard enough of such talk."
"But I aint got half through," protested Bud. "One man told me, not more'n half an hour ago, that if he could prove it was you who give Toby them papers, he would have you licked before sun-up."
"Ah! And what wouldIdo?"
"What would you do?" echoed Bud, who did not quite catch the minister's meaning. "You'd have to cl'ar yourself or take another an' wuss lickin'. Go up to the United States where you b'long. You aint wanted here."
"You don't understand me. If the gentleman of whom you spoke should attempt any violence, would I submit to it without trying to defend myself? I don't think I should. I have a double gun with fifteen buckshot in each barrel, and you may say you have been assured by me that I will shoot the first man who puts a hostile foot on my gallery [porch]. Now go."
"Then you'll shoot—"
"Go!" interrupted the minister; and Bud ought to have been warned by the flash in his eye that he was thoroughly in earnest.
"The best men in town say—"
"Will you go peaceably," said the minister, pointing toward the gate, "or shall I be obliged to pick you up and throw you off my grounds?"
He took a single step forward as he spoke, and in an instant Bud Goble jumped back and swung his rifle from his shoulder; but before he could think twice his antagonist, whose agility equaled his strength, was upon him, the weapon was twisted from his grasp, and Bud buried his face in the soft earth of a flower-bed. But the minister was not yet done with him. Holding the rifle in one hand he seized Bud by the neck with the other, jerked him to his feet, and walked him out of the gate and into the road at double time. Then he fired the rifle into the air and leaned the weapon against the fence.
"I think this ends our interview, neighbor Goble," said he, without the least sign of anger or excitement, "and I will bid you good-day. The next time you visit me come in a proper frame of mind, and I will receive you accordingly; but please do not bring me any more threatening messages."
"This beats me," soliloquized Goble, who, after seeing the minister disappear around the corner of the house, felt of the back of his neck to make sure that the strong fingers which grasped it a moment before had not left any holes there. "Who'd a thought that a preacher could a had sich an amazin' grip? I wasn't no more'n a babby in his hands. Now what's to be done? Be I goin' to put up with sich an insult? I guess I'd best set down yer an' think about it."
Bud Goble was a thoroughly subdued man now. The events of the morning had satisfied him that open warfare was not his best hold, and that if he hoped to accomplish anything and retain the confidence of the committee, he must make a decided change in his tactics. He must work in secret and under cover of the darkness, and now when it was too late, he wished he had adopted that method at the outset. If he had he wouldn't have lost his reputation. There were two men in the neighborhood he was quite sure he would not trouble again unless he had a strong force at his back, for they had threatened to shoot, and Bud believed they were just reckless enough to do it. When he reached this point in his meditations he chanced to look up and saw old Uncle Toby emerge from the thicket on one side of the road, take a few long, rapid steps, and disappear among the bushes on the other side. He held something tightly clasped under his coat, and seemed so anxious to avoid observation that Bud's suspicions were aroused at once.
Elder Bowen's negro boy Sam, who was working among the flower-beds with his master, sought safety in flight when Bud Goble's coming was announced, and, standing concealed behind an evergreen in the garden, saw and heard all that passed between the minister and the man who had come there to browbeat him. When Bud was ejected from the grounds Sam came out from his hiding-place grinning broadly.
"Marse Joe," said he, as soon as he could make himself understood, "dat beats all de sermons you ever preached all holler. It does so. But, Marse Joe, I 'fraid Marse Gobble gwine make ole Toby trouble all along of dat babolition paper. De nex' time he go dar he ax Uncle Toby whar he got dat money of his'n stowed away. Dat's what I 'fraid of, sah.'
"I didn't think of that, and perhaps it would be well for you to run over and put Toby on his guard," replied Mr. Bowen. "Neighbor Goble is on the war-path sure enough, and he would just as soon rob that old negro as to rob a white man. Tell Toby to give the money into his master's keeping."
Sam obeyed instructions, but we have seen that the suspicious old Toby was not willing to listen to advice. He was terribly alarmed when Sam told him what Bud had been about that morning, and taking advantage of his master's absence, and of his own position as helper about the stables, he dug up his money which he had buried before daylight, and posted off to the academy to have a talk with one of the Gray boys. He kept to the fields and gave the roads a wide berth; but he was obliged to cross one highway during his journey, and that was the time Bud Goble saw him. The old negro's actions excited Bud's interest as well as his suspicions, and having nothing else to do, he rose from his log and followed him.
And right here it is necessary to make a short explanation in order that you may understand what happened afterward. Rodney and Marcy Gray had been studying at the academy for almost four years, and although they were popular among all classes in and around Barrington, there were some, whites as well as blacks, who invariably got them mixed up, and never could tell one from the other unless they chanced to meet them in company. It was Rodney, the rebel, who helped Bud Goble when his family were all prostrated with the ague, and offered him a reward for finding that underground railroad, but it was Marcy, the Union boy, who picked the banjo with superior skill, danced and sung his way into the affections of the plantation darkies, and saved old Toby's melon-patch from being devastated by the students. These two had eaten a good many of old Toby's melons, and more than one Thanksgiving turkey which graced his table had been bought with their money. Believing from what Sam told him that his hard-earned wealth was not safe as long as he knew where it was, Toby decided that one of these two boys, the one he happened to find first, should be its custodian. Dick Graham, who was on duty at the front gate, told him where Marcy was, and the old man lost no time in making his way through the woods to his friend's beat. But Marcy declined to accept the responsibility, as we have seen, and so Toby took the money back and hid it in the ground whence he had taken it. He would have been better off—almost two hundred dollars better off—if he had done as Mr. Bowen and Marcy advised him to do; for Bud Goble dogged his footsteps every rod of the way, and Toby never once suspected it. Bud did not hear what passed between Toby and the sentry—he dared not go close enough for that; but he saw the stocking that went back and forth between the iron pickets of the fence, and he was in plain sight of the negro when he returned it to its hiding-place.
Here again Toby made a great mistake. If he had concealed the money under his cabin, within hearing and scenting distance of the coon dogs that were so numerous in the quarter, it would have been comparatively safe; but he was so very much averse to having it around him that he took it behind his garden-patch, rolled a decayed log from its bed and buried it there, covering it with his hands, and rolling the log back to its place.
[Illustration: TOBY HIDES THE MONEY.]
"Dar now," said Toby, loud enough to be overheard by the man who was crouching in the bushes not more than twenty yards away. "Nuffin can't find it dar 'ceptin' de hogs, an' dey can't eat it."
"That's a fact," soliloquized Goble, chuckling to himself. "But a two-legged hog like me can eat an' wear the things it will buy. Who keers for preachers an' storekeepers now? 'Pears like this mornin's work is goin' to turn out all right after all; don't it to you?"
Through the rails of the fence Bud Goble watched Toby until he disappeared in the quarter, and then he crept up to the log. In ten minutes more old Toby's money was tightly buttoned under the breast of his coat, and Bud, highly elated with the result of his morning's labor was taking long strides toward his cabin.
"I aint got the dress an' shoes I promised to have for ye when I come home," said Bud, when he burst in upon his wife, whom he found engaged in her usual occupation—sitting in front of the fire with her elbows upon her knees and a cob pipe between her teeth. "Old man Bailey wouldn't trust me, but Toby wasn't so perticular. He hid this here stockin' under a log, an' bein' afeared that the hogs might come along an' root it up an' carry it away, I jest thought I'd take keer on it for him," added Bud, laughing loudly at his own wit.
The woman's eyes glistened as she thrust her bony arm into the stocking and brought out a handful of shining silver coin. She would have her dress now in spite of old man Bailey; and as for Toby—she gave scarcely a thought to the consternation and alarm that would almost overwhelm him when he discovered his loss, for a field hand had no business to have a stocking half-full of money, when white folks did not know where their next meal was coming from. Her only fear was that Mr. Riley might somehow learn that Bud had taken the money, and then there would be trouble.
"You must look out for that yourself," Bud declared. "I've done my part, an' if you can't hide the stockin' where nobody can't find it, an' keep a still tongue in your head about our havin' it, you aint the woman I take you for. Now give me what you think your dress'll cost, an' a trifle more to put in bacon an' meal, an' I'll go an' get 'em."
His wife complying with the request, Bud hung his rifle upon its hooks over the fireplace and posted off to Barrington, where a surprise, that was not altogether an agreeable one, awaited him. He could not find any of his friends, but every one on the street, with whom he exchanged a word of greeting, seemed to know all about the adventures he had had that day. Bud didn't mind being told that he had permitted a little old man, who could not stand against a twelve-year-old boy, to scare him with a revolver, for he was not the only one in that scrape. Four other men had stood on the outside of the counter while Mr. Bailey talked to them as he pleased; but when folks came to joke him for being walked out of the yard by a preacher, it was more than he could endure.
"Jest let him get the grip on you that he got on me, an' he'll make the best among ye walk turkey," Bud retorted sharply. "There aint a man in town that's got any business with him, if he is a preacher. But let me tell ye: He aint by no means heared the last of me yet."
Bud saw signs of suppressed excitement on all sides and in the face of every man he met; but, conceited as he was, he could not believe that the excitement was occasioned by the incidents of which he had been the hero. They might have had something to do with the grave look he saw on Mr. Riley's face as the latter hurried by him without speaking, but Bud believed that there was something else in the wind of which he had not heard. It had such a depressing effect upon him that he transacted his business with as little delay as possible and went home.
"There's goin' to be doin's of some sort or another about yer, an' before long, too," said he, as he handed his wife the articles he had bought for her, and deposited the bag containing the meal and bacon on the floor. "I don't know what's up, but Riley an' among 'em look sorter uneasy. Mebbe that outbreak old woman, that's what's the matter, sure's you're born. That outbreak's comin', an' who knows but it'll be here this very night?"
"Good lands save us!" exclaimed Mrs. Goble, in alarm; and even her husband looked as though he would have liked to go to a little safer place than Barrington was, if he had only known where to find it.
"Yes, sir, that's jest what's the matter," repeated Bud. "Riley's somehow got wind of it, an' that's what made him look so glum. Why didn't he stop an' tell me all about it, I'd like to know. I'll jest tell him he mustn't do that a-way no more, kase it aint right long's I am workin' for that committee. Say," he continued, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. "When John Brown made that raid of his'n, Barrington was one of the places that was marked on his map to be burned, kase there was more niggers here than white folks. 'Member it, don't you?"
"Good lands!" cried Mrs. Goble, who, if she had ever before heard of the circumstance, had quite forgotten all about it.
"That's what Riley says," continued Bud, "an' who knows but the thing we've been a-dreadin' is comin' now? They do say that there's guns an' things hid somewheres in the woods—"
"You don't tell me!"
"It's jest what I do tell ye, kase I've heard it often. Of course the niggers knows where them guns is, an' when they an' the babolitionists like Elder Bowen get ready, they'll fetch 'em out an' go for us."
In a very short time Bud succeeded in talking himself into a most uncomfortable frame of mind. He did not feel quite safe at home, for his cabin was exposed, being fully a quarter of a mile from the nearest house, and he was afraid to go into town. His utter ignorance of the nature of the danger that threatened him made the situation hard to bear. As for fighting in case he were attacked—that was something Bud had not yet thought of. He would have preferred to run. His wife was so badly frightened that she could scarcely cook the dinner, and Bud could eat but little of it after it was cooked; but he smoked more than his share of tobacco, managed to run a few extra bullets for his rifle, and to bring in a supply of light-wood sufficient to keep a bright fire burning during the night.
As the sun sank out of sight behind the trees, and daylight faded and darkness came on, Bud's fears grew upon him. He dared not stay in the cabin for fear that some evil-minded Union man might slip up behind it, and shoot him through some of the cracks where the chinking had fallen out, so he drew one of the rickety chairs in front of the door and sat upon it, with his rifle for company. That was a little better than being cooped up within doors, but the unwonted silence that brooded over the surrounding woods distressed him.
"Durin' all the years we've lived yer I never seen the road so deserted as it is to-night," he said, in a whisper to his wife. "There's always somebody goin' one way or t'other, but now they seem to have holed up."
"Mebbe they're feared the outbreak'll ketch 'em," Mrs. Goble suggested."What does it look like, any way?"
"Now, listen at her!" exclaimed Bud, in accents of disgust. "'Tain't a hant that'll run after you, all dressed up in white, an' retch out its hands to grab—"
"Don't, don't!" cried his wife, shuddering perceptibly and covering her eyes with her hands to shut out the picture that Bud's words had conjured up. "Don't talk that a-way."
"Well, then, an outbreak is a-a-thing where the niggers an' babolitionists run around, whoopin' an' yellin' like they was wild Injuns, shootin' the men an' scalpin' the women folks an' burnin' an' stealin'," said Bud. "That's what an outbreak is, an' you can see for yourself what will happen to us if one of 'em gets loose in Barrington. I wish't somebody would come along from over town so't I could ax him how things is goin' there."
But no one came, and for long hours Bud Goble sat there, listening and peering into the darkness, and in momentary expectation of hearing or seeing something alarming. About midnight, however, the excitement began. At that hour Bud mustered up courage enough to start on a trip around the cabin, and when he got to the back of it, where he could look through the tops of the trees toward Mr. Riley's house, he stopped as if he had suddenly been deprived of the power to go a step farther. The sky in that direction was glowing with a brighter red than he had ever seen at sunset, and the longer he looked at it, the brighter it grew. Beyond a doubt Mr. Riley's house was on fire. When this thought flashed through Bud's mind, the cold chills crept all over him, and instead of hastening to render what assistance he could in saving the planter's property, he turned and ran into the cabin, banging the door behind him, and dropped the heavy bar to its place.
"Good lands!" exclaimed Mrs. Goble, whom her husband, in his excitement and terror had upset, chair and all, in front of the fireplace.
"Don't stop to talk, old woman," said Bud, in a hoarse whisper, "but get up an' fly around an' do something. The outbreak has come like I told you it would. Riley's house is a mask of fire. If you don't b'lieve it peep through this yer crack."
For a minute or two the deep silence that reigned in the cabin was broken only by the hurried breathing of its frightened inmates, and then there came a sound from the outside—a quick, heavy step on the hard ground, followed by the fumbling of a hand for the latchstring. Bud's face grew as white as a sheet, his knees trembled under him, and the muzzle of his rifle, which he tried to point toward the door, covered every square foot of surface on that side of the cabin in two seconds' time.
"Who's there?" he demanded, in quavering tones. "Speak up, for there's a bullet comin' right through the door where you stand."
"What's the matter of the fule?" inquired the man on the outside; andBud recognized the voice of one of his friends. "Lemme in."
Bud was only too glad to comply. He threw up the bar, opened the door, and Silas Walker same in the man who held his rifle in the store while he was making ready to punish Mr. Bailey for refusing him credit. Bud was glad to see that he was not the only one who had been alarmed and excited by that blaze in the sky. Silas's face had no color in it to speak of, and he trembled as he moved across the floor.
"How did you get home so quick?" were the first words he spoke.
"Who? Me?" cried Bud. "I've been home sense noon; aint I, old woman?"
"Then who done it?" questioned Silas.
"Done what?"
"Set the elder's house on fire."
Bud was astounded, and so was his wife. The former looked sharply at his visitor for a moment, and then backed toward the nearest chair.
"Isn't it Riley's house?" he gasped.
"Course not. I can see it plain from my door, an' there's Riley's house standin' up safe an' sound as it ever was. It's Elder Bowen's, fast enough. I kinder thought you done it to pay him for shovin' you outen his lot by the neck, and I said to my old woman that you had sarved him jest right; but if you didn't do it, then some of that Committee of Safety must be to work."
Bud hadn't once thought of that, and it put an entirely different look on the matter. If it was true that the "outbreak had come," it must be that—
"There's a light off this a-way, too," observed Mrs. Goble, who to conceal her agitation from the visitor, had moved around the room until she found an opening between the logs through which she could look out toward Barrington. "'Pears like there might be an other house a-fire."
"Hey-youp!" yelled Bud, whose terror had given away to almost fiendish exultation. "The outbreak has come, like I said it was goin' to do, but it aint the babolitionists an' niggers that's doin' of it. It's our own friends. Come on, Sile. Me an' you mustn't hang back when there's work to be done for the 'Federacy an' danger to be met."