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diff --git a/old/54049-0.txt b/old/54049-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ff9a1da..0000000 --- a/old/54049-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9769 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sailor Jack, The Trader, by Harry Castlemon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Sailor Jack, The Trader - -Author: Harry Castlemon - -Illustrator: Geo. G. White - -Release Date: January 24, 2017 [EBook #54049] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAILOR JACK, THE TRADER *** - - - - -Produced by KD Weeks, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note: - -This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. -Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. - -Footnotes have been moved to follow the paragraphs in which they are -referenced. - -Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please -see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding -the handling of any textual issues encountered during its preparation. - -[Illustration: THE LAST OF THE “LOUISIANA.”] - - _CASTLEMON’S WAR SERIES._ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - SAILOR JACK, THE TRADER - - BY - - HARRY CASTLEMON, - - AUTHOR OF “GUNBOAT SERIES,” “ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES,” - “FOREST AND STREAM SERIES,” ETC., ETC. - - - - - _Four Illustrations by Geo. G. White._ - - -[Illustration: colophon] - - - PHILADELPHIA: - PORTER & COATES. - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1893, - - BY - - PORTER & COATES - - - - - CONTENTS. - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. TOM RANDOLPH, CONSCRIPT, 1 - II. LAMBERT’S SIGNAL-FIRE, 29 - III. MR. RANDOLPH CARRIES TALES, 59 - IV. THE PHANTOM BUSHWHACKERS, 86 - V. THE COTTON THIEVES, 114 - VI. THE MAN HE WANTED TO SEE, 141 - VII. SAILOR JACK IN ACTION, 168 - VIII. BAD NEWS FROM MARCY, 195 - IX. RODNEY IS ASTONISHED, 222 - X. MARK GOODWIN’S PLAN, 247 - XI. BEN MAKES A FAILURE, 273 - XII. SURPRISED AND CAPTURED, 302 - XIII. IN WILLIAMSTON JAIL, 326 - XIV. THE PRISON PEN, 350 - XV. ON ACCOUNT OF THE DEAD LINE, 375 - XVI. SAILOR JACK, THE TRADER, 403 - XVII. CONCLUSION, 435 - - - - - SAILOR JACK, THE TRADER. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - TOM RANDOLPH, CONSCRIPT. - - -“Well, by gum! Am I dreamin’? Is this Tom Randolph or his hant?” - -“I don’t wonder that you are surprised. It’s Tom Randolph easy enough, -though I can hardly believe it myself when I look in the glass. There -isn’t a nigger in the settlement that isn’t better clad and better -mounted than I am.” - -“Well, I have seen you when you looked a trifle pearter, that’s a fact.” - -“And what brought me to this? The Yankees and their cowardly -sympathizers. I don’t blame the boys in blue so much, for brave soldiers -always respect one another, even though their sense of duty compels them -to fight under different flags; but the traitors we have right here -among us are too mean to be of any use. And the meanest one among them -is Rodney Gray.” - -The first speaker was Lieutenant Lambert, who, by his zealous efforts to -serve the cause of the South, brought about the bombardment of Baton -Rouge, and the person whom he addressed was the redoubtable Captain Tom -himself, who had just returned to Mooreville after undergoing two -months’ military discipline at Camp Pinckney. - -The last time we saw these two worthies was shortly after the -Confederate General Breckenridge made his unsuccessful attempt to -capture Baton Rouge, and the conscripting officer, Captain Roach, -disappeared so completely that no one had ever heard a word of him -since, and the veteran Major Morgan, backed by fifty soldiers who hated -all Home Guards and other skulkers as cordially as they hated the -Yankees, came to take his place. Knowing that Captain Roach had been -very remiss in his duty, that he had spent more time in visiting and -eating good dinners than he had in sending conscripts to the army, Major -Morgan hardly gave himself time to take possession of the office in -Kimberley’s store before he declared that that sort of work was going to -cease entirely, and that everyone in his district who was liable to -military duty, Home Guards as well as civilians, must start for the camp -of instruction at once or be taken there by force. The news spread -rapidly, and in a very few hours everyone in the settlement had heard -it. The wounded and disabled veterans of the Army of the Centre, of whom -there were a goodly number in the neighborhood, were overjoyed to learn -that at last there was a man in the conscripting office who could not be -trifled with, and some of the civilians, who came under the exemption -clause of the Conscription Act, secretly cherished the hope that Captain -Tom and his first lieutenant might be sent to serve under Bragg, who did -not scruple to shoot his soldiers for the most trivial offences. - -As to Tom and his Home Guards, they did not at first pay much attention -to the major’s threats. It was right that civilians should be forced to -shoulder muskets, since they would not do it of their own free will, but -as for them, they were State troops, and the government at Richmond -could not order them around as it pleased. Besides, they had great -confidence in Mrs. Randolph’s powers of persuasion. She would never -permit her son to go into the army, and having managed Captain Roach -pretty near as she pleased, the Home Guards did not see why she could -not manage Major Morgan as well; but when it became noised abroad that -the latter had curtly refused Mrs. Randolph’s invitation to dinner, -intimating that he was not ordered to Mooreville to waste his time in -visiting and nonsense, they were terribly frightened, and demanded that -Captain Tom should “see them through.” When they enlisted in his -company, he promised to stand between them and the Confederate -authorities, and now was the time for him to make that promise good; but -Tom was as badly frightened as they were, and did not know what to do. -When his mother suggested that it might be well for him to put his -commission in his pocket, and ride to Mooreville and talk the matter -over with the major, Tom almost went frantic. - -“Go down there and face that despot alone,” he exclaimed, “while he has -fifty veterans at his back to obey his slightest wish? I’d about as soon -be shot and have done with it. Besides, what have I got to ride? The -Yankees have stolen me afoot.” - -Captain Tom knew well enough that he was not telling the truth. It -wasn’t Yankees who “stole him afoot,” but men who wore the same kind of -uniform he did. You will remember that we compared the short visit of -Breckenridge’s army to a plague of locusts. Everything in the shape of -eatables in and around Mooreville, as well as some articles of value, -disappeared and were never heard of afterward; and among those articles -of value were several fine horses, Tom Randolph’s being one of the first -to turn up missing. His expensive saddle and bridle disappeared at the -same time, and now, if Tom wanted to go anywhere, he was obliged to walk -or ride a plough mule bare-back, which was harrowing to his feelings. He -wouldn’t appear before a Confederate officer of rank in any such style -as that, he said, and that was all there was about it. But, as it -happened, the conscripting officer had a word to say on that point. On -the morning following his arrival in the village a couple of strange -troopers galloped into Mr. Randolph’s front yard and drew up at the -steps with a jerk. Captain Tom’s heart sank when he saw them coming, for -something told him that they were after him and nobody else; and paying -no heed to the earnest entreaties of his mother, who assured him that he -might as well face them one time as another, for he could not save -himself by flight, he disappeared like a shot through the nearest door, -leaving her to explain his absence in any way she thought proper. But -after taking a second look at the unwelcome visitors, Mrs. Randolph knew -it would be of no use to try to shield the timid Home Guard. The trooper -who ascended the steps, leaving his comrade to hold his horse, was a -rough-looking fellow, as well he might be, for he had seen hard service. -The little pieces of metal on his huge Texas spurs tinkled musically, -his heavy cavalry sabre clanked against his heels as he walked, and Mrs. -Randolph thought there was something threatening in the sound. He lifted -his cap respectfully, but said in a brisk business tone: - -“I’d like to see Tom Randolph, if you please.” - -“Do you mean Captain Randolph?” corrected the lady. - -“No, ma’am. He was given to me as plain Tom Randolph, and that is the -only name I know him by. I’d like to see him, if you please.” - -“Will you step in while I go and find him?” - -“Thank you, no. I have no time to sit down. I am in a great hurry.” - -“You can spare a moment to tell me, his mother, what you are going to do -with him, can you not?” - -“All I can say is that the major wants to see him at once,” was the -short answer. - -“Do you know what the major wants of him, so that I can explain——” - -“Pardon me if I say that no explanations are necessary. It is enough for -him to know that Major Morgan wants to see him without a moment’s -delay.” - -The tone in which the words were spoken satisfied Mrs. Randolph that the -impatient trooper could not be put off any longer, so she turned about -and went into the house. She knew that Tom had gone straight to her -room, and when she tried the door she found that he had locked himself -in. - -“Who’s there?” demanded a husky voice from the inside. - -“It is I, my dear, and I am alone,” was the reply. “Let me in at once. -Now, call all your courage to your aid, and show yourself the brave -soldier you were on the night you knocked that Yankee sentinel down with -the butt of a musket and escaped being sent to a Northern prison-pen,” -she continued, as she slipped through the half open door, which was -quickly closed and locked behind her. “Major Morgan wants to see you at -his office, and, my dear, you had better go at once. The man at the door -will not wait much longer.” - -“I don’t care if he won’t,” shouted Captain Tom, who was terribly -alarmed. “If he gets tired of standing there, let him go back where he -came from and tell that major that I—what business has that fellow got -out there?” - -Tom chanced to look through the window while he was talking, and when he -saw one of the troopers ride down the carriage-way as if he were going -to the rear of the house, it flashed upon him that the man was going -there to watch the back door. At the same moment the jingling of spurs -and the rattling of a sabre were heard in the next room, the door knob -was tried by a strong hand, and something that might have been the toe -of a heavy boot was propelled with considerable force against the door -itself. - -“Open up here,” commanded a stern voice on the other side. “Do it at -once, or I shall be obliged to force an entrance.” - -This threat brought Captain Tom to his senses. In a second the door was -unlocked and opened, and the soldier stepped into the room. - -“By what right does Major Morgan——” began Tom. - -“I don’t know a thing about it,” was the quick reply. “It is no part of -my duty to inquire into my superior’s private affairs. All I can say is -that I am commanded to bring Tom Randolph before him without loss of -time. You are Tom Randolph, I take it. Then saddle up and come with me.” - -“But the Yankees stole my horse and I have nothing to ride except a -mule,” whined Tom. - -“Then ride the mule or come afoot. Make up your mind to something, for I -am going to start in half a minute by the watch.” - -“You will give my son time to exchange his citizen’s clothes for his -captain’s uniform, of course,” ventured Mrs. Randolph. - -“Sorry I haven’t an instant to wait, but the color of his clothes will -make no sort of difference to Major Morgan,” was the reply. “Now then, -will you order up that mule, or walk, or ride double with my man?” - -“Are you an officer?” faltered Tom. - -“Not much of one—only a captain.” - -“Well, that puts a different look on the matter entirely,” said Tom, who -up to this time thought he was being ordered around by a private -soldier. “Since you are an officer I expect to receive an officer’s -treatment from you, and I don’t wish to be addressed——” - -“That’s all right. But hurry up, for the time is precious.” - -Being satisfied at last that his meeting with the dreaded conscript -officer could not be delayed any longer, Captain Tom hastened to his -room after his commission, while his mother sent a darky to the -stable-yard to bring up the solitary mule that had been left there when -the few remaining field-hands went to work in the morning. And a very -sorry-looking beast it proved to be when it was led to the door—too -decrepit to work, and so weak with age that it fairly staggered as Tom -threw his weight upon the sheepskin which the thoughtful darky had -placed on the animal’s back to serve in lieu of a saddle. A sorry -picture Captain Tom made, too, when he was mounted; but he had no choice -between going that way and riding double with a private, and that was a -thing he could not bring himself to do. - -While they were on their way to town Captain Tom made several fruitless -attempts to induce his captors—for that was just what they were—to give -him some idea of what he might expect when he presented himself before -the major; but although he could not prevail upon them to say a word on -that subject, he was able to make a pretty shrewd guess as to the nature -of the business in hand, and if he had known that he was going to prison -for a long term of years he could not have felt so utterly wretched and -disheartened. - -“If I were going to jail I might have a chance to get pardoned out,” -thought Tom, “but the only way to get out of the army is to be killed or -have an arm or leg shot off. I’d be perfectly willing to go if Jeff -Davis and all his Cabinet could be compelled to go too. I’m afraid I am -in for trouble this time, sure.” - -If Captain Tom had any lingering doubts on this point they were -dispelled in less than half a minute after he entered the enrolling -office. He had never before met the grizzly veteran who sat at Captain -Roach’s desk with a multitude of papers before him, and when their short -interview was ended Captain Tom hoped from the bottom of his heart that -he might never meet him again. He proved to be just what he looked—a -thorough soldier, who had come there with the determination to perform -his disagreeable duty without fear or favor. Every man in the office was -a stranger to Tom. There were stacks of carbines and cavalry sabres in -all the corners, horses saddled and bridled were hitched to the rack in -front of the door, and there were a few tanned and weather-beaten -soldiers standing around ready to start at the word, but there was not a -Home Guard to be seen. - -“This is Tom Randolph, sir,” was the way in which one of the guards -brought the new-comer to the notice of the conscript officer. “Don’t sit -down,” he added a moment later, as Tom drew a chair toward him. “Take -off your hat.” - -Captain Randolph was amazed, for this was not the way he had always been -treated in that office. Hitherto he had been a privileged character, and -had had as much to say as Captain Roach himself; but now things were -changed, and for the first time in his life Tom was made to see that he -was not of so much importance in the world as he had supposed himself to -be. He took off his hat, but noticed that the soldiers in the room did -not remove theirs, and that nettled him. So did the manner in which the -major acknowledged the introduction, if such it could be called. He did -not offer to shake hands as Tom thought he would, but merely looked over -the top of his spectacles for a moment. Then he pulled a sheet of paper -toward him, ran his finger down the list of names written on it until he -had found the one he wanted, and made a short entry opposite to it; -after which he pushed away the paper and said: - -“Report at one o’clock this afternoon. That’s all.” - -“But, major,” Tom almost gasped, “what am I to report for?” - -“What for? Why, marching orders, of course.” - -“Well, will you tell me where I am to march?” - -“Along the road that leads to the camp of instruction. Where else should -a recruit march to, I’d like to know. You’re conscripted.” - -“But, major,” protested Tom, drawing forth an official envelope with -hands that trembled so violently that he could scarcely control them, “I -really don’t see how you can conscript me. I am a captain in the State -troops, and there’s my commission from the governor.” - -“It isn’t worth straws,” answered the major, snapping his fingers in the -air. “Don’t want to see it. Besides, you have resigned.” - -“But my resignation has not been accepted.” - -“That doesn’t matter. It will be, for there are no such things as State -troops now, I am happy to say. You’re liable to military duty easy -enough, and—that’s all.” - -“I retain my rank, don’t I, sir?” said Tom. - -It was astonishing what an effect this simple question had upon the -occupants of the room. Some quickly turned their faces to the wall, -others tiptoed through the nearest doors, and all shook with suppressed -merriment. The major jerked his spectacles off his nose, looked hard at -Tom to see if he were really in earnest, and cleared his throat before -he replied: - -“No, sir; you will begin as Private Randolph, but will be given every -opportunity to show what you are made of, and to win a commission that -is worth something more than the paper it happens to be written on. -Don’t worry about that. Well, sergeant, where are the men I ordered you -to bring before me?” - -Hardly able to tell whether he was awake or dreaming, Tom Randolph -yielded to the friendly hand that was laid upon his arm, and suffered -himself to be led away from the desk, his place being immediately filled -by four brawny soldiers, who raised their hands with a military salute. -The first words one of them spoke aroused Tom from his stupor and -interested him. - -“We didn’t find Lambert and Moseley to home, sir. They must have had -warnin’, I reckon, for they’ve took to the bresh.” - -“They needn’t think to escape me by resorting to any such trick as -that,” said the major grimly. “They owe a duty to their country in this -hour of her peril, and they’ve got to do it. I’ll have a detail watch -their houses night and day till they come back.” - -Tom Randolph could hardly believe that the soldier who laid his hand -upon his arm and conducted him to a remote corner of the room, so that -they could talk without danger of being overheard, was the same captain -who had been so impatient and peremptory with him and his mother a short -time before, but such was the fact. Having performed his duty and -brought his prisoner to the office, as he had been told to do, the -captain had thrown off his soldier airs and was as jolly and friendly a -fellow as one would care to meet. - -“You see you are going to have good company while you are in camp,” said -he. - -“I don’t know what you call good company,” snarled Tom. “Lambert is -nothing more than a common overseer, while Moseley is a chicken and hog -thief. Good company, indeed!” - -“But we heard that they are officers in your company of Home Guards,” -said the captain in a surprised tone. - -“They were chosen against my earnest protest,” replied Tom, “but they -have never been commissioned by the governor. Their election was not -legal, and so I didn’t report it. But, captain, I don’t think your major -has any authority to ride over the governor in this rough way.” - -“Hasn’t he a right to conscript everyone who does not come under the -exemption clause?” answered the captain. “If you have read that act I -will venture to say that you did not see the words ‘Home Guards’ in it. -Come now.” - -“But I am my father’s overseer,” said Tom, switching off on another -track. - -“Since when?” - -“Since long before Breckenridge made his attack on Baton Rouge.” - -“Where are you employed?” - -“On the home plantation.” - -“Your father doesn’t need two overseers on the home plantation, does he? -He has claimed exemption for—what’s his name?—Larkin.” - -“And didn’t he say a word about me?” - -“The records of the office don’t show it. Now let me tell you something. -If your father wants to claim exemption for you instead of Larkin no -doubt he can manage it with General Ruggles, who is in command at Camp -Pinckney. Major Morgan has no authority to act in such cases. Just now -your duty is to go home and make ready to report at one o’clock sharp. -Don’t be a second behind time unless you want to get the rough side of -the major’s tongue.” - -“What shall I do to get ready?” - -“Why, pack up a suit or two of your strongest clothes, an extra pair of -shoes and stockings, and a few blankets, which I assure you will come -handy for shelter tents when you take the field.” - -“And you don’t think of any way in which I can get out of it?” said Tom -in a choking voice. - -“Oh, no. _That’s_ a dead open and shut. You’ve got to go to camp and -stay there while your friends are working to get you out, if that is -what you want them to do. But I wouldn’t let them make any move in that -direction if I were you. Why don’t you go with us and make a man of -yourself? We are whipping the Yankees right along, and you will have -plenty of chances to distinguish yourself. We’re bound to gain our -independence, and don’t you want to be able to say that you had a hand -in it?” - -The captain’s earnest words did not send any thrill of patriotism into -the heart of Tom Randolph, who just then wished that the Yankees would -sweep through Mooreville in irresistible numbers, put an end to the war -in a moment, and so keep him from going to Camp Pinckney. He turned -sorrowfully away from the captain, who had really tried to befriend him -by giving what he thought to be good advice, mounted his aged mule, and -set out for home. His mother’s face brightened when he dismounted at the -foot of the steps, but fell instantly when Tom told her that she had -better take a good long look at him while she had the chance, for after -that day was past she would never see him again. Of course there was -mourning in that house when he told his story, and the gloom that rested -there was but partially dispelled by Mr. Randolph’s promise to discharge -Larkin without loss of time and claim exemption for Tom in his stead. - -“If you could do it this minute it would not keep me from going to the -camp of instruction,” whined Tom, “for the major has no authority to do -anything but conscript everybody he can get his hands on.” - -“Has he warned Ned Griffin and Rodney Gray?” inquired Mrs. Randolph. - -“That’s so,” exclaimed Tom angrily. “What a dunce I was not to speak to -the captain about those fellows! But I was so taken up with my own -affairs that I never once thought of it. However, I’ll think of it when -I go down to the office at one o’clock, I bet you. And, father, if you -get on the track of Lambert and Moseley, don’t fail to let the major -know it. If I’ve got to be disgraced I want them to keep me company.” - -“I will bear it in mind,” answered Mr. Randolph. “And since one o’clock -isn’t so very far off, hadn’t you better get ready?” - -The conscript thought this a very heartless suggestion and so did his -mother; but they could not deny that there was reason in it, and so -preparations for Tom’s departure were made at once. The parting which -took place an hour or so later was a tearful one on Tom’s part as well -as his mother’s, but there was not very much sorrow exhibited by the -black servants who crowded into the dining-room to shake his hand, as -they were in duty bound to do, and Tom made the mental resolution that, -when he returned from Camp Pinckney to take his place as overseer on the -plantation, he would see them well paid for their indifference. He rode -in his mother’s carriage this time, accompanied by his father and a -bundle of things that would have filled a soldier’s knapsack to -overflowing. When the carriage turned into the street that ran past -Kimberley’s store, Tom thrust his head out of the window, but instantly -pulled it in again to say, while tears of vexation filled his eyes and -ran down his cheeks: - -“There’s a bigger crowd of people in front of the office than I ever saw -before. No doubt some of them will be glad to know I have been -conscripted; but if you have the luck I am sure you will have, I shall -be back to turn the laugh on them before many days have passed over my -head. Just look, father, and remember the name of every one who has a -slighting word or glance for me, so that I may settle with him at some -future time. I hope Rodney and Ned Griffin are there.” - -“You’ve got your wish,” replied Mr. Randolph, after he had run his eye -over the crowd, which extended clear across the street to the -hitching-rack. “Rodney and Ned are there, but they seem to be standing -on the outskirts.” - -Tom mastered up courage enough to look again, and then he saw what his -father meant by “the outskirts.” There were three distinct classes of -people in that gathering. In the middle of the crowd and in front of the -office stood two score conscripts, who were closely guarded by half as -many of Major Morgan’s veterans. Some of the conscripts seemed resolved -to make the best of the situation, and joked and laughed with their -friends and relatives who had assembled to see them off, and who formed -the third class that stood outside the guards; but Tom noticed that most -of their number looked very unhappy indeed. Tom did not see Rodney and -Ned, but he discovered several disabled veterans of Bragg’s army with -whom he had a speaking acquaintance, and they in turn discovered him and -sent up a shout of welcome. - -“Hey-youp! Here comes another, and I do think in my soul it’s Captain -Tommy Randolph,” exclaimed one. “It’s him, for I know that there -kerridge.” - -“An’ they tell me that you might jest as well be in the army to onct as -to be in that camp,” chimed in a second veteran. “There aint no sich -thing as gettin’ away when they get a grip onto you.” - -“Not by no means,” cried a third. “Kase why, don’t you know that they -keep a pack of nigger hound dogs there that aint got nothin’ in the wide -world to do but jest chase deserters?” - -The tone in which the taunting words were uttered was highly -exasperating to Tom, whose face grew red with anger. - -“I wouldn’t mind them,” said his father soothingly. “That’s only -soldiers’ fun. They don’t mean anything by it.” - -“I’ll try not to mind them now, but I’ll get even with every one of them -when I come back,” said Tom savagely. - -Stepping out of the carriage, and showing himself to that little mob of -laughing, jeering soldiers, was one of the most trying ordeals that Tom -Randolph ever passed through, but there was no way to escape it. As he -hurried through their ranks toward the guards, who stood aside to let -him pass, they sent a few more words of advice and encouragement after -him. - -“Where’s all your purty clothes, Tommy?” inquired one. “Go home to onct -an’ get ’em. If you don’t, them fule Yanks will think you are nothin’ -but a dog-gone private.” - -“Don’t listen to him, Tommy,” said another. “The Yanks always pick for -officers in battle, an’ they’re dead shots, I tell you.” - -“You’re mighty right,” chorused a dozen voices. “I never did see anybody -who could shoot like them Yanks. I’m glad I aint got to face ’em agin, -tell your folks. I wouldn’t do it for all the money the Confedrit -gov’ment is worth.” - -“It’s a disgrace the way those fellows are allowed to go on,” said Tom -to the first soldier he met when he entered the office, and who turned -out to be the captain whose acquaintance he had made that morning. “Why -don’t you put a stop to it?” - -“Aw! They want some sport, don’t they?” was the answer. “Let them go -ahead with it until they get tired, and then they will stop. Besides, -you might as well get used to such talk one time as another, for you -will hear plenty of it in the army.” - -“But you mustn’t permit them to force me into the army,” whispered Tom -to his father. “If you do, you will always be sorry for it, because you -will never see me again.” - -In a dazed sort of way Tom reported to the major, and then tried to hide -himself in a corner of the office where he would be out of sight of his -tormentors, but he was quickly routed from there by one of the major’s -men, who told him to go outside where he would be under the eye of the -guard. Of course his appearance was the signal for another outburst from -the veterans, but he wisely tried to drown their gibes by entering into -conversation with a conscript who looked as disconsolate and wretched as -Tom himself felt. His father had given the bundle into his keeping, and -taken his place outside the guards with the rest of the exempts, and Tom -began to realize how it seemed to be alone in a crowd. Rodney and Ned -did not come near him, and that made him angry and threaten vengeance. -They might at least shake hands with him and assure him of their -sympathy, Tom thought, but if they had been foolish enough to attempt -it, it is more than probable that he would have turned his back upon -them. More than that, Rodney Gray was not a hypocrite. Having had the -most to do with the breaking up of Tom’s company of Home Guards, he -would have uttered a deliberate untruth if he had said he was sorry to -see him conscripted. He wasn’t; he would have been sorry to see him stay -at home. - -“And when he reaches the camp of instruction I hope some strict -drill-sergeant will put him through an extra course of sprouts to pay -him for the mean trick he tried to play on Dick Graham,” said Rodney to -his friend Ned. “I could have told things that would have got all the -Pinckney guards down on him if I had been so disposed, and now I am glad -I didn’t do it. There he goes. Good-by, Tom Randolph.” - -“Fall in!” shouted a stentorian voice. “Not off there, but here, with -the right resting where I stand. Haven’t you Home Guards been drilled -enough to learn how to fall in in two ranks? Face out that way toward -the hitching-rack. Now listen to roll-call!” - -In ten minutes more the conscripts had answered to their names and were -headed toward Camp Pinckney, marching in a crooked straggling line with -their bundles on their shoulders and armed guards on each side of them. -There were forty-five in all, and two-thirds of them were Home Guards. -There were many sober and tearful faces among the spectators when they -moved away, and even the discharged veterans must have taken the matter -seriously, for they did not utter one taunting word. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - LAMBERT’S SIGNAL-FIRE. - -A few of Tom Randolph’s fellow-sufferers had repeatedly declared in his -hearing that they never would be taken to Camp Pinckney alive; but when -the roll was called inside the stockade at sunset the following day, -their dreary, toilsome march having been completed by that time, every -one of them answered to his name. Not one of their number had made his -escape, and indeed it would have been foolhardy to attempt it, for the -guards were alert and watchful, and it was whispered along the line that -they had strict orders to shoot down the first man who tried to break -away. - -Not to dwell too long upon this part of our story, it will be enough to -say that Tom Randolph remained in the camp of instruction for two solid -months, during which time he suffered more than he thought it possible -for mortal man to endure. He was given plenty to eat, such as it was, -but scarcely a night passed that he was not aroused from a sound sleep -to go on post or to repel an assault that was never made, and during the -day-time he was drilled in the school of the soldier and company, and in -the manual of arms, until all the muscles in him ached so that he could -not lie still after he went to bed. Every hour in the day indignities -were put upon him that caused his blood to boil, and he made matters -worse by resenting them on the spot, the result being that he did more -police duty than any other man in camp. Time and again he sought an -interview with the commandant, intending to complain of his treatment -and ask when he might look for his release, but he never saw the general -except from a distance, and then was not permitted to approach him. All -this while his father, who visited him at irregular intervals, bringing -news from the outside world, was doing his best; but there were so many -difficulties in his way, and so much red tape to be gone through, that -he found himself balked at every point, and it is a wonder he was not -tempted to give it up as a task beyond his powers. - -“You see Roach’s books show that I claimed exemption for Larkin, and I’m -afraid that’s against us,” he said to Tom one day, after talking the -matter over with General Ruggles. - -“But you have as much right to change your mind as other folks, I -suppose,” replied Tom. - -“Of course I have, but that isn’t the point. If Larkin were here to take -your place in camp the work might be easier; but you see he isn’t. He -has skipped.” - -“Skipped where?” - -“Out in the woods, to keep company with Lambert and Moseley, I suppose. -And when he went he left word with some of the neighbors that if -anything happened to my buildings during the next few weeks, I might -thank him for it. He put out as soon as I told him that I couldn’t pay -the beef and bacon the government demanded as the price of his -exemption.” - -“Did you tell Major Morgan that you wouldn’t pay it?” - -“Certainly, and I told General Ruggles so; but that didn’t scare them at -all. If they want beef and bacon they’ll just take it.” - -“Well, now, if that isn’t a pretty way for a common overseer to treat a -gentleman I wouldn’t say so,” declared Tom, who really thought that -Larkin ought to have stayed at home and been conscripted in his place. -“What difference does one man make in the size of an army, anyway? The -general could let me go as well as not.” - -“But he won’t, unless certain forms are complied with. Be as patient as -you can, and remember that I shall leave no stone unturned.” - -“Get an honorable discharge while you are about it, so that I shall not -be called upon to go through with this performance a second time,” said -Tom. - -It is true that a single recruit made no great difference in the -strength of an army, but for some reason that no one but General Ruggles -could have explained it made all the difference in the world so far as -Tom Randolph’s release from military duty was concerned. One day, about -six weeks after the conversation above recorded, Mr. Randolph walked -into camp and told Tom that he was a free man—or rather that he would be -in a few hours, for Larkin had been captured by Major Morgan’s scouts, -and was now on his way to camp to take Tom’s place. - -“And am I to have an honorable discharge?” inquired Tom, who was so -overjoyed that he could hardly speak. - -“No; and I was foolish to ask for it,” said his father in disgust. “The -general laughed in my face and said you hadn’t done anything worthy of -it. Don’t say a word about it, but thank your lucky stars that you have -escaped being ordered to the front.” - -When the man Larkin and a few other conscripts were brought in under -guard, Tom Randolph was standing as near the big gate as the camp -regulations would allow him to get, waiting impatiently for somebody to -come out of the commandant’s office and tell him he could go home. He -was mean enough to try to attract Larkin’s attention when the latter -tramped wearily into the stockade, but the man was so wrapped up in his -troubles that he could hardly have recognized his best friend, if he had -had one among the curious crowd that was gathered about the gate. Tom -was a little disappointed, but quickly dismissed Larkin from his mind -when he saw his father approaching with an expression on his face that -was full of good news. - -“Come right along,” said he. “It’s all settled now. There stands the -officer who has orders to pass us out.” - -“So the general has consented to do me justice at last, has he?” -exclaimed Tom, who was not half as grateful as he ought to have been. -“And he kept me here all these weary days and allowed me to be insulted -and abused on account of that man Larkin, did he? Thank him for nothing. -But I’ll fix some others who are as much to blame for my being here as -General Ruggles is. I haven’t wasted all my time since I have been in -jail, I tell you.” - -“I brought a mule for you to ride,” continued his father. “But don’t you -think we had better bunk with the guard to-night? It will be as dark as -a pocket in an hour, and besides it is going to rain.” - -“I don’t care if it rains pitchforks. I’ll face them rather than remain -in this dreary hole a moment longer,” declared the liberated conscript. -“And I am not going to the barracks after my clothes or blankets. I will -them to the first man who can put his hands on them.” - -Tom reached home in due time in spite of the rain and other discomforts -that attended him on his journey, and it is scarcely necessary to say -that his mother welcomed him as one risen from the dead. Her husband had -told her doleful stories of Tom’s life in camp, and she was afraid that -he would sink under his many hardships before his release could be -effected. But Tom was not as badly off as he pretended to be. A few -days’ rest made him as uneasy and full of meanness as he had ever been -in his life; but it is fair to say that his uneasiness was due to an -unaccountable delay in the carrying out of a certain little programme -which he had arranged while living in the stockade. This was what he -meant when he told his father that he had not wasted his time since he -had been in jail. - -During the month of September it became known to the guards and -conscripts at Camp Pinckney that a meeting of cotton and tobacco -planters had been held in Richmond “to consider the expediency of the -purchase by the Confederacy, or of a voluntary destruction of the entire -cotton and tobacco crop,” to keep it from falling into the hands of the -Union forces. It is hard to tell why the news was so long in coming down -to Louisiana, for the meeting, which was described as “one of the -largest, wealthiest, and most intelligent that had ever assembled in the -city,” was held as early as February. Among the other resolutions acted -upon by this patriotic assemblage was one calling upon the Southern -people to destroy all their property in advance of the invading armies, -even to their homes, so that the conquest of the United States should be -a barren one. Of course this resolution met the hearty approval of those -of the Camp Pinckney guards and conscripts who had no property worth -speaking of, and some of them declared that if General Ruggles would let -them have their own way for twenty-four hours they would destroy -thousands of bales of cotton which the owners would never burn -themselves so long as they saw a prospect of selling them to the -Yankees. This set Tom Randolph to thinking, and with the aid of some of -the Pearl River Home Guards who were still on duty at the camp, he made -up a nice little plan to revenge himself on several of the Mooreville -people who had incurred his enmity. It might have been successful, too, -if Tom had not allowed his unruly tongue to upset it. As soon as he -reached home he began waiting and watching for some signs of activity on -the part of the Pearl River vagabonds, but up to this time the clouds -that hung over the swamp, and which he watched every night with anxious -eyes, had not been lighted by any signal-fires. - -The life that Tom Randolph now led was dreary and monotonous in the -extreme; no healthy boy could have endured it for a week. Did he take -Larkin’s place as overseer and do his work? Well, hardly; and he never -had any intention of doing it. The field-hands did the work as well as -the overseeing, and Tom spent his time in loafing or in riding about the -country on a bare-back mule. It is true that Major Morgan’s “drag-net” -had not cleared the neighborhood of everyone who was subject to military -duty, for a few of the desperate ones, like Lambert and Moseley, had -taken to the woods, and a few others had joined the Yankees in Baton -Rouge, where they were safe from pursuit; but it had caught the most of -the able-bodied men and boys of Tom’s acquaintance, and now he found -himself almost alone. He saw Rodney and Ned now and then, but never -spoke to them if he could help it, or visited them on their plantations; -for since they, with Mrs. Griffin’s aid, kept him from being sent to a -Northern prison, he disliked them more than he did before. He had never -got over being surprised at Mr. Gray’s action in standing between Ned -and the conscript officer, while he permitted the other telegraph -operator, Drummond, to take his chances. Mr. Gray must be Union at heart -or else he would not have done that; and if he was Union he ought to be -driven out of the country. Tom found a world of consolation in the -reflection that he would soon be even with him. - -It was while the returned conscript was taking his usual morning ride on -his mule, with a gunny-sack for a saddle, that he met his old first -lieutenant, as described at the beginning of the last chapter. He knew -that the man was living in the woods, otherwise he would have had him -for company at Camp Pinckney, and he was surprised to find him riding -along a public road in broad daylight. Lambert was also mounted on a -mule, the property of his late employer, which he had appropriated to -his own use without troubling himself to ask permission. He remembered -that Tom had once drawn a sword upon him, and flattered himself that in -Camp Pinckney his tyrannical captain was being well paid for that and -other indignities he had put upon his Home Guards; consequently he was -not a little astonished and vexed to find him breathing the air of -freedom on this particular morning. - -“How did you manage to get away from them fellers, anyhow?” inquired -Lambert, nodding in the direction of the camp. - -“I have influence with the governor,” replied Tom loftily. “I did not -want to stay, and consequently I didn’t.” - -“Afeared of the Yanks, was you!” continued Lambert with something like a -sneer. - -“No more afraid than yourself. You took to your heels and are in danger -every moment of being caught and sent to camp, while I faced the music -at once and will never have to do it again. I am discharged from -military service for all time to come.” - -“Well, by gum! I won’t do none,” said Lambert fiercely; and Tom noticed -that every time he spoke he looked behind and on both sides as if he -were in constant fear that Major Morgan’s men might steal a march upon -him. “I say let them that brung the war on do the fightin’. I didn’t -have no hand in it, an’ nuther am I goin’ to holp ’em out. Yes, I’m -livin’ in the woods now, me an’—an’ some other fellers; but I have to -come out once in a while to get grub an’ things, you know.” - -“Then why don’t you come at night?” asked Tom. - -“Kase it suits me better to come in the daytime. I aint a-skeared. -There’s plenty kiver handy.” - -“But if you dismount and take to your heels you’ll lose your mule.” - -“Who keers? ’Tain’t my mu-el, an’ if they take him I can easy get -another. What you drivin’ at now?” - -“I am my father’s overseer.” - -“Shucks! You couldn’t tell, to save your life if a corn row was laid off -straight or not.” - -“No matter for that,” said Tom sharply. “As long as I hold the position -I can live at home and show myself openly; and that’s more than you can -do. Have you seen that converted Confederate and his Yankee friend -lately?” - -“Who’s them?” inquired Lambert. - -“Why, Ned Griffin and Rodney Gray.” - -“Oh, yes; I see ’em every day ’most. They’re livin’ down there snug as -you please, an’ as often as I——” - -“Go on,” said Tom, when the man paused suddenly. “As often as you what?” - -“As often as I want to see ’em I see ’em,” added Lambert. - -“That isn’t what you were about to say at first,” replied Tom. “I hope -you are not a friend of theirs?” - -“Look a-here, cap’n, wasn’t I first leftenant of the Home Guards?” - -“You were, and a very good officer you made, except when you took it -upon yourself to act without waiting for orders from me; and then you -always brought yourself into trouble. Can you be trusted?” - -“If I can’t, what’s the reason I was ’lected to that office?” asked -Lambert in reply. “What do you want of me?” - -“The members of the Randolph family are not quite as poor as some people -seem to think, I want you to understand,” said Tom in a mysterious -whisper. “We have several little articles hidden away that our neighbors -know nothing about, and next week we shall have some store tea and -coffee and salt to hand around to those who need them. Your shoes are -full of holes, too. You ought to have a new pair.” - -If Lambert had given utterance to the thoughts that were in his mind, he -would have said that his old commander would miss it if he hoped to -bribe him in this way. There were few people in the settlement who did -not stand in need of the articles Tom mentioned, but Lambert knew where -he could get them for the asking. Still he wanted to know what Tom -wished him to do, and said so. - -“You fought the conscript officers offen me long’s as you could, an’ I -aint likely to disremember it,” he replied. - -“I kept you out of the army for more than a year, and now is the time -for you to pay me for it,” replied Tom impressively. “Now listen while I -tell you something. You know that our government has ordered every -planter who owns cotton to burn it so that it will not fall into the -hands of the Yankees, don’t you?” - -“No!” answered Lambert. He was surprised, for this was news to him; but -he saw what Tom was trying to get at. - -“Well, it is the truth, and those who do not comply with the order will -be punished in some way, and their property destroyed by our own -soldiers. Now there’s old man Gray; he has cotton.” - -“And he won’t never burn it,” exclaimed Lambert. - -“That’s the idea exactly. He’d rather sell it to the Yankees for sixty -cents a pound; and so far as I can see there is nothing to hinder him -from doing it.” - -“Less’n some of our fellers slip up an’ burn it for him,” put in -Lambert. - -“You’ve hit it again,” exclaimed Tom, who told himself that he wasn’t -going to have any trouble at all in bringing the man to do the work he -had suddenly laid out for him. “He can sell his cotton if nobody stops -him, but my father can’t sell his because he is known to be a loyal -Confederate. Do you think that’s fair or right?” - -“I know it aint,” answered Lambert. “Gray is Union, and oughter be sent -amongst the Yanks where he b’longs; but your paw is Confedrit and so am -I. Do you want me to tech off that cotton?” - -“Well, no; not exactly that. You know where it is, I suppose?” - -“There aint much of anything in the woods in this country that I don’t -know something about,” said Lambert with a grin. “I reckon I might find -it if I took a notion.” - -“That is what I thought, and now I come to the point. While I was in -camp I learned that a squad of our soldiers is coming here some day to -look after the very cotton we are talking about,” said Tom, who did not -think it would be just the thing to say that he had proposed the -expedition himself, and accurately described the bayou in which Mr. -Gray’s four hundred bales could be found. “Now if you happen to see that -squad while you are riding about the country——” - -“I’ll take leg-bail mighty sudden, I bet you,” interrupted Lambert. - -“Without offering to show them where the cotton is hidden?” cried Tom. - -“You bet! I aint got no call to go philanderin’ about the woods with a -passel of soldiers, an’ if you was the friend you pertend to be you -wouldn’t ask sich a thing of me.” - -“Why, man alive, they are Home Guards,” began Tom. - -“Then I wouldn’t trust none of ’em as fur as I could sling a church -house,” replied Lambert. - -“And besides, they don’t know that you have been conscripted, for they -belong to the Pearl River bottoms, miles away from here.” - -“No odds; Major Morgan’s men can give me all the dodgin’ I want to do, -an’ if them Pearl River fellers don’t find that cotton till I show it to -’em they’ll never find it. I jest aint goin’ to run no fule chances on -bein’ tooken to that camp.” - -Tom Randolph wished now that he hadn’t broached the subject to Lambert -at all, for what assurance had he that the man, whom he knew to be -vindictive and untrustworthy, would not go straight to Mr. Gray and tell -him all about it? - -“I thought you were a friend of mine, but since you are not it’s all -right,” said Tom, intimating by a wave of his hand that Lambert’s -refusal was a matter of no moment whatever. “But come with me to the -house, and let me see if I can’t find something for you.” And as he -spoke he looked down at the man’s broken shoes and bare, sunbrowned -ankles. - -“Shucks!” exclaimed Lambert. “I don’t need to go beggin’ shoes an’ -stockin’s of nobody; an’ as for the salt an’ store tea that you’ve been -talkin’ about, I have them in the woods every day.” - -“I don’t believe it,” said Tom bluntly. - -“It don’t make no odds to me whether you do or not, but it’s a fact.” - -“Where do you get them? You haven’t the cheek to go to Baton Rouge, -after the part you played in having the place bombarded by the Union -fleet. You wouldn’t dare show your face there, and I don’t believe you -have any friends to bring goods through the lines for you. I haven’t -forgotten that old man Gray wanted that mob to thrash me as if I were a -nigger, and I hope you remember that he was strongly in favor of hanging -you. Ned Griffin warned you, and you jumped out of bed and ran for your -life.” - -“Do you reckon I’ve disremembered all the things that happened that -night?” said Lambert with a scowl. “I aint, I bet you, an’ mebbe you’ll -find it out some of those days. I aint nobody’s coward, an’ I dast do a -good many things when I make up my mind to it. You jest watch, an’ -you’ll see fire some of those nights. But when you see it you may know -that no Pearl River Home Guards didn’t have a hand in it.” - -“Will you do it yourself?” said Tom gleefully. - -“I aint a-sayin’ who’ll do it, but it’ll be done. I’ve been mistreated -an’ used like a dog all along of this war, an’ I’m a-goin’ to even up -with somebody to pay for it.” - -“And when the work is done come to my house; ask for anything I’ve got -and I will give it to you. Where are you going now?” asked Tom, as the -man began digging his heels into his mule’s sides and tugging at one of -the reins in the effort to turn the beast around. - -“I reckon I’d best be joggin’ along back. I’ve been out from under kiver -’most long enough. You watch out an’ you’ll see that fire; that’s every -word I’ve got to say about it.” - -The two separated and rode off in different directions—the one in a -brown study, and the other shaking his head and muttering angry words to -himself. Lambert was very well satisfied with the result of the -interview, for it had suggested something to him that he never would -have thought of himself, but Tom could not drive away the thought that -perhaps it would have been better for him if he had turned his mule’s -head down the road instead of up when he left his father’s gate that -morning. - -“I know that Lambert was awfully angry at me because I shook my sword in -his face, but what else could I do when he acted as if he were about to -rush up the steps and lay violent hands upon me in mother’s presence?” -soliloquized Tom. “Perhaps I talked too much and at the wrong time; but -if Lambert plays me false, I’ll put every Yankee scouting party that -comes along on his trail. I’ll keep a bright lookout for that fire, as -he told me, but I shall not draw an easy breath until I see it. Then I -shall feel safe, for of course if he fires that cotton he will not tell -on himself.” - -Tom went up to his room at his usual hour for retiring, but instead of -going to bed he drew a big rocking-chair in front of a window that -looked out toward Rodney Gray’s plantation, and seated himself in it to -watch for Lambert’s signal fire—the light on the clouds which would tell -him that one of Mooreville’s most respected citizens was being punished -because he, Tom Randolph, didn’t like him. He had no assurance from -Lambert that he would see the blaze that night, but he hoped he would, -and he resolved that he would sit at that window for six months, if -necessary, rather than miss the sight and the gratification it would -afford him. - -“Lambert’s face grew as black as a thunder-cloud when I reminded him -that Mr. Gray was one of the mob who wanted to hang him for bringing -about the bombardment of Baton Rouge,” thought Tom, “and I know he will -have revenge for that if he gets half a chance.” - -Tom had not yet made up for the sleep he lost at Camp Pinckney, and in -less than half an hour he was slumbering heavily. It was long after -midnight when he awoke with a start and a feeling that there was -something unusual going on. His eyes rested on the window when they were -opened, and the sight he saw through the panes sent a thrill all through -him and brought him to his feet in an instant. The glare on the sky told -him there was a fire raging somewhere in the depths of the forest, and -that it must be a big one, for the whole heavens in that direction were -illuminated by it. - -“He’s done it; as sure as the world he’s done it,” said Tom, who was -highly excited. “It’s all the proof I want that I am not so much of a -nobody as some people make me out to be. But I had no idea that baled -cotton would give out such a blaze as that. However, four hundred bales, -if they were all in one place, would make a pretty good-sized pile.” - -Tom’s first impulse was to rush downstairs and tell his mother the good -news, but he was afraid she might not keep it to herself. She would be -likely to call his father’s attention to the light in the sky, and that -was a thing Tom did not care to have her do. Mr. Randolph had changed -wonderfully of late—ever since he missed salt from his table and learned -that cotton was worth sixty cents a pound in Northern markets—and Tom -had not failed to notice it. He wasn’t half as good a Confederate as he -used to be, and even showed a desire to be friendly with Mr. Gray and -Rodney, who belonged to that unpatriotic class of planters spoken of by -the Southern historian who “were known to buy every article of their -consumption in Yankee markets,” that is to say, in Baton Rouge. This -being the case Tom did not go downstairs and tell what was going on in -the swamp for fear his father might have something sharp and unpleasant -to say about it. He sat in his chair and watched the light until it -began to fade away before the stronger light of the rising sun, and then -went to bed, happy in the reflection that there was one traitor in the -neighborhood who would not make a fortune out of the unholy war that had -been forced upon the South by Lincoln’s hirelings. - -It was almost noon when he opened his eyes again, and the first move he -made was for the window that looked toward the swamp that inclosed -Rodney Gray’s plantation on three sides. Of course all signs of the -conflagration had long since disappeared, but it had left gloom and -anxiety in the house below, as Tom found when he went down to eat the -late breakfast that had been kept warm for him. His mother seemed to -have grown a dozen years older since he last saw her. - -“What is the matter?” he demanded. “Your face is as long as my arm.” - -“O Tommy, did you see it last night?” she asked in reply. - -“See what last night?” faltered Tom, who began to have a faint suspicion -that it would be a wise thing for him to make his mother believe, if he -could, that he had slept soundly through it all. - -“Why, the fire. Someone’s cotton has been destroyed. Mr. Walker, who -lives on the plantation below, saw the light and came up this morning -and told your father about it, and together they have gone to the swamp -to look into the matter.” - -“Oh! the swamp,” repeated Tom with a chuckle. “That’s all right, and -father need not have troubled himself to ride so far without his -breakfast. Please tell the girl to give me a bite of something. Old man -Gray has some cotton in there, I believe.” - -“But, my dear, we have two hundred bales in there, too.” - -The tone in which the words were uttered struck Tom dumb and motionless -for a moment. Then he groped blindly for the nearest chair and dropped -into it. It was true that his father had a fortune hidden not more than -half a mile from the bayou in which Mr. Gray’s four hundred bales were -concealed, and up to that moment he had forgotten all about it. It was -also true that all the cotton that had been run into the swamp was -plainly marked with the initials of the owners’ names, but Tom didn’t -know whether Lambert could read or not. He had never thought to ask him, -and now he blamed himself for his stupidity. If it was the Pearl River -vagabonds, and not Lambert, who applied the torch, there was the same -trouble to be feared. Tom took particular pains to tell the men with -whom he conspired to destroy Mr. Gray’s property that every bale of it -was marked R. W. G., but he now remembered, with a sinking at his heart -that almost drove him crazy, that these Home Guards were as ignorant as -the mules and horses they rode on their plundering expeditions, and -perhaps there was not one among them who knew one letter from another. -The fear that the wrong pile might have been committed to the flames -threw him into a terrible state of mind. - -“I don’t wonder that you are sadly troubled,” said his mother, in a -sympathizing tone. “But I suppose it is about what we can look for in -times like these. I never did expect to save that cotton. I was sure -that if the Yankees did not steal it the rebels would destroy it.” - -(Mrs. Randolph called them “rebels” now. A few months before she would -have spoken of them as “Confederates” or “our own brave soldiers.”) - -“Take it away,” yelled Tom, addressing the girl, who just then brought -his breakfast in from the kitchen. “I don’t want anything to eat. I -never want anything more as long as I live. How many thousand dollars -was that cotton worth?” - -“You’ll fret yourself sick if you give way to your feelings like this,” -protested his mother. “We are not sure that anyone has troubled our -cotton; we only fear it.” - -“It would be on a par with the luck that has attended me all through -this miserable war if every pound of it was gone up in smoke,” said Tom -in a discouraged voice. “It’s some consolation to know that we are all -poor together, for of course the men who knew where to find our cotton -knew where to find Gray’s and Walker’s also.” - -With these words Tom snatched his hat from the rack in the hall, and -went down the steps and out to the gate to watch for his father’s -return. The latter was a long time coming, and his face wore so dejected -a look when he rode up and passed into the yard, that Tom could not find -it in his heart to speak to him. He simply turned about and went into -the house to wait, with as much fortitude as he could command, for his -father to come in and tell the terrible news that was so plainly written -on his face. His wife, who met him at the door, did not say a word until -he had seated himself in the chair he usually occupied by the front -window, and then she whispered the question: - -“Is it all gone, George?” - -“Every bale,” replied Mr. Randolph with a groan. “In the first place, -nearly three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of niggers ran away and -left us with barely a handful to do our work for us, and now the cotton -I was depending on to start me afresh when the war ended has run away -too; or gone up in the elements, which amounts to the same thing.” - -“Of course Mr. Gray’s cotton——” stammered Tom. - -“Wasn’t touched,” said Mr. Randolph, finishing the sentence for him. -“You may believe it or not, but it is a fact that our cotton alone was -destroyed. Walker and I found Mr. Gray and Rodney and Griffin and a -dozen or so others in the swamp when we got there, and they had been -trying to drag some of my bales out of reach of the flames; but they -didn’t go there until morning, and of course were too late to be of any -use.” - -“The cowards!” exclaimed Tom bitterly. “If they saw the fire when it was -burning, why didn’t they go at once?” - -“Would you have done it?” replied his father. “They thought the fire had -been set by soldiers and were afraid to go out in the dark; but if the -soldiers had had a hand in it they would have burned other cotton. It -was the work of someone who has a spite against us, and he has made -beggars of us. I haven’t a dollar of good money, or a thing that can be -turned into money; and even if I had, you and your Home Guards have made -yourselves so obnoxious to the Baton Rouge people that I wouldn’t dare -go there to trade. Oh, yes; we’re fit candidates for the poorhouse if -there was one in the county.” - -Tom Randolph covered his face with his hands and trembled violently. He -could not speak, but told himself that the world would not have held -half so much trouble for him if that man Lambert had never been born -into it. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - MR. RANDOLPH CARRIES TALES. - -When Tom Randolph and the man Lambert brought their interview to a close -and rode away in different directions, as we have recorded, the latter -turned into the first lane he came to, and finally disappeared in the -woods. For three or four miles or more he rode along the fence that -separated a wide corn-field from the timber, passed in the rear of Mr. -Gray’s extensive home plantation, and at last came out into the road -again opposite the house in which Ned Griffin and his mother now lived. -Having made sure that there were none of Major Morgan’s men in sight (he -feared them and the Baton Rouge people more than he did the boys in -blue) Lambert crossed the road and threw down the bars that gave -entrance into the door-yard. The noise aroused Ned’s hounds, whose -sonorous yelping quickly brought their master to the porch. - -“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Ned, when he saw who his visitor was. “I -don’t know how to explain it, but I have been looking for you all day. -Have you done anything for your country since I seen you last?” - -Ned’s manner would have made Tom Randolph open his eyes, and might, -perhaps, have aroused his suspicions, there was so much unbecoming -familiarity in it. More than that, his words seemed to imply that there -was some sort of an understanding between him and the ex-Home Guard. The -latter seated himself on the end of the porch, pulled his cob pipe from -his pocket and tapped his thumb-nail with the inverted bowl to show that -it was empty, whereupon Ned went into the house and presently came out -again with a plug of navy tobacco in his hand. The sight of it made -Lambert’s eyes glisten. - -“I aint seen the like very often since the war come onto us,” said he, -as he proceeded to cut off enough of the weed to fill his pipe; “an’ -this here nigger-heel that we uns have to put up with nowadays aint -fitten for a white man to use. Do you know, I think Rodney Gray is jest -one of the smartest fellers there is a-goin’?” - -“I’ve always thought and said so,” replied Ned. “But what has he done -lately that is so very bright?” - -“Hirin’ me to watch that cotton of his’n so that I could tell him if I -see anybody castin’ ugly eyes at it,” said Lambert, settling back at his -ease on the gallery so that he could enjoy his smoke to the best -advantage. “When you told me that Rodney would take it as a friendly act -on my part if I would do that much for him, I didn’t think there was the -least bit of use in it, but now I know there is. I run up agin somebody -a while ago, an’ who do you think it was?” - -“I’m sure I don’t know, but I hope it wasn’t anyone who had designs on -that cotton.” - -“It was that Tom Randolph,” answered Lambert. - -“You must be dreaming!” exclaimed Ned. - -“Them’s the very same words I axed myself when I first see Tom comin’ -t’wards me on his mu-el, kase I couldn’t b’lieve it was him till I -listened to him talk; then I knowed it was Tom, for almost the first -thing he said was meanness. He’s made it up with some of the Home Guards -at Camp Pinckney.” - -“Gracious!” cried Ned, becoming frightened. “They’re the worst lot of -ruffians in the world. They shoot their prisoners.” - -“So I’ve heerd tell,” said Lambert indifferently. “Well, them’s the fine -chaps that Tom has made it up with to burn old man Gray’s cotton, an’ he -wanted to know if I would sorter guide them to the place where it was, -an’ I told him I wouldn’t, kase I aint going to take no chances on bein’ -tooken to that camp. I’m scared of them Pearl River chaps.” - -“You’d better be, for they would just as soon shoot you as anybody else, -simply to keep their hands in. Now, how are we going to keep them from -finding that cotton?” - -“That’s the very thing that’s been a-pesterin’ of me ever since Tom -spoke to me about it,” answered Lambert. - -“If you don’t act as their guide they can easily find somebody else who -will do it rather than be shot,” said Ned in an anxious tone. “I don’t -believe Rodney has enjoyed a night’s sound sleep since he had his first -talk with the Federal provost marshal at Baton Rouge. But he is bound to -save his father’s property if he can, and you must do all in your power -to help him.” - -“Do you remember what you said on the night you rid up to my door an’ -warned me that the citizens allowed to hang me for what I done down the -river?” replied Lambert. “You said that old man Gray was tryin’ to talk -’em out of it by tellin’ ’em that if they done it they would be sorry in -the mornin’, didn’t you? Well, I don’t forget a man who does me a good -turn any more’n I forget one who does me a mean one.” And when he said -this he scowled fiercely, for he was thinking of Tom Randolph. - -“Well, have you any plan in your head?” continued Ned. - -“Nary plan. I jest rid down to get some good tobacker an’ to tell you to -warn Rodney to look out for breakers. What’s the reason you don’t want -me to go nigh his house for a few days?” - -“That’s my business—and Rodney’s,” said Ned shortly. - -“’Taint mine,” laughed Lambert, “but if you asked me to make a rough -guess——” - -“But I don’t ask you to make a rough guess,” interrupted Ned. “Or a -smooth one either. Did Tom Randolph tell you how he got out of Camp -Pinckney?” - -“——a rough guess, I should say that Rodney’s got one of two things in -hidin’ down there; either a deserter from our side, or a Yankee pris’ner -that he is waitin’ for a chance to send to Baton Rouge. But ’taint none -of my business, an’ I won’t tell,” said Lambert with good-natured -persistence. And then he stopped, for when he looked up into Ned’s face -he saw that it had suddenly grown very pale. “I aint said a word about -it to nobody, an’ aint goin’ to; but you tell Rodney that when he wants -friends, as most likely he will, they’ll be around. Me an’ Moseley an’ -the rest didn’t want to go into the army, an’ we’re bound we won’t; but -for all that we’re not the cowards that some folks take us to be.” - -“You have something on your mind, and I am sure of it,” said Ned, as the -man touched a match to his pipe and arose from his seat on the porch. -“If you will tell me what it is, so that I can carry it to Rodney, I’ll -give you a pair of shoes for yourself and Moseley.” - -“Them’s jest the things that Tom Randolph offered to give me if I would -guide them Home Guards to Mr. Gray’s cotton,” said Lambert with a grin -,“an’ now I’m goin’ to get’em without goin’ to all that trouble an’ -risk. Beats me how Rodney can fight the Yanks the best he knows how for -fifteen months, an’ then turn square around an’ buy shoes an’ salt an’ -things of ’em. Looks to me as though the Yanks would ’a’ shot him the -first thing they done.” - -“They are not savages, to shoot a man after he quits fighting,” said Ned -impatiently. “It takes Confederate Home Guards to do that. What do you -say? Do you want the shoes or not?” - -“Bring ’em out, an’ I will tell you all I had in my head when I rid into -this yard,” was the answer, and Ned turned about and went into the -house. When he returned he brought the shoes, which Lambert received -with the remark that he knew some planters in the neighborhood who had -willingly paid fifty dollars for footwear that wasn’t half as good. - -“But if they had had greenbacks instead of rebel scrip they could have -got their shoes for a good deal less,” replied Ned. “There isn’t a -Confederate in the country loyal enough to refuse Yankee money when it -is offered to him. Major Morgan wouldn’t do it. Now, what are your -plans?” - -“The only thoughts I had in my head when I rid into the yard, was that I -would come here an’ get a bit of good tobacker, an’ tell you an’ Rodney -that Tom Randolph was tryin’ to have your cotton burned,” replied -Lambert, placing the shoes under his arm, and backing away as if he -feared Ned might try to snatch them. “That’s all, honest Injun.” - -“And haven’t you hit upon any plan to head those Home Guards off?” - -“Nary plan, kase they aint found the cotton yet. When they do, like as -not I’ll think up somethin’.” - -“Then it will be too late to save the cotton,” said Ned in disgust. “If -you are going to do anything, you want to move before they get into the -swamp.” - -“They’ll be some cotton burned, most likely; I aint sayin’ there won’t,” -observed Lambert, placing one hand on his mule’s neck and vaulting -lightly upon his back. “But you can tell Rodney that his paw’s will stay -on the ground as long as anybody’s. That’s the onliest plan I’ve got in -my head. When I get time to think up somethin’ else I’ll let you know.” - -Lambert rode out of the yard, stopping on the way to put up the bars -behind him, and Ned Griffin went in to his unfinished supper. His -mother, who had overheard every word that passed between him and his -visitor, looked frightened. - -“I can’t imagine how the thing got wind,” said Ned in reply to her -inquiring glances, “but Lambert seems to know all about it. I am not -afraid that he will lisp it, but I _am_ afraid it will get to the -knowledge of some enemy who will set Morgan after us.” - -“O Ned, that would be dreadful,” said Mrs. Griffin with a perceptible -shudder. - -“I believe you. I don’t know what the penalty is for helping a deserter, -but I believe the major would send us to the front to pay us for it.” - -“I think you ought to tell Rodney,” said Mrs. Griffin. - -“He knows it as well as I do and is quite as anxious; but the man can’t -walk or ride, and how are we going to get him inside the Yankee lines? -We can’t take him there in a carriage, for the roads are too closely -watched. Of course I shall stand Rodney’s friend, but my ‘rough guess’ -is that we’ll wish that friend of ours had gone somewhere else for the -help he needed.” - -That night Ned Griffin was aroused from a sound sleep by his mother, who -rapped upon the door of his room, and told him in a trembling, excited -voice that either Lambert had proved himself a traitor, or else the -Pearl River ruffians had stumbled upon some enemy of Mr. Gray who was -willing to act as guide, for they had certainly found the cotton and -fired it. Ned was thunderstruck. He hurried on the few clothes he could -find in the dark conveniently, and ran out to the porch; but when he had -taken one look at the bright spot on the sky, which seemed to be growing -brighter and larger every moment, and compared its bearings with those -of well-known landmarks in the range of his vision, he drew a long -breath of relief. - -“I almost knew that Lambert did not tell the truth when he assured me he -had nothing on his mind,” said Ned to his frightened mother, who had -followed him to the porch. “Go back and sleep easy. That isn’t Mr. -Gray’s cotton.” - -“Are you quite sure of it? How do you know?” inquired Mrs. Griffin. “It -must be cotton, for there is no house in that direction.” - -“Stand here in front of me and I will show you why I know it is not Mr. -Gray’s,” answered Ned. “Now, squint along the side of that post that -stands on the edge of the gallery, and bring your eye to bear on that -low place in the timber-line. Do you see it? Well, there’s where Mr. -Gray’s cotton is. The pile that’s burning is half a mile farther off and -a mile farther to the right.” - -“Do you know who owns it?” - -“It belongs to Mr. Randolph, who has nobody to thank for it but his -dutiful son Tom.” - -“Ned, do you know what you are saying?” said his mother somewhat -sharply. - -“I am quite sure on that point. Tom was too handy with his sword in the -first place, and with his tongue in the second. He ought to have had -better sense than to put such an idea into Lambert’s head. That man can -do as much damage of this sort as he likes, and those who don’t know any -better will blame the rebel guerillas or the Yankee cavalry for it.” - -“Do you think Lambert started that fire?” - -“I am as well satisfied of it as though I had stood by and seen him -strike the match that set it going. Half an hour more will tell the -story at any rate. Now you run back to bed, and I will stay here and -watch that low place in the trees I showed you a moment ago. If no blaze -appears in that direction I shall know that this is Lambert’s work.” - -Mrs. Griffin retired, and Ned sat there on the porch with the hounds for -company, and looked first at the bright glow on the sky and then at the -low place in the timber, until day dawned and Mr. Gray and two or three -of his neighbors rode up to the bars and accosted him. - -“Have you been in there?” asked his employer anxiously. - -“No, sir,” replied Ned emphatically. “I saw the fire, but not knowing -what sort of men I might find around it I thought it best to keep away -from it. But I don’t think it was your cotton.” - -He did not say that he was as certain as he wanted to be that the loss -was Mr. Randolph’s, and that it had been brought upon him by Tom’s -insane desire to be revenged upon some members of the Gray family, for -he knew there were one or two men in the party who would not rest easy -until they had seen Tom severely punished. So he awaited an opportunity -to say a word to Mr. Gray in private. - -“I am sorry it was anybody’s cotton, but of course I should be glad to -know it was not mine,” said Ned’s employer, with an effort to smile and -look as cheerful as usual. “But if mine didn’t go last night it may go -next week, so I don’t know that it makes much difference. Between -Yankees and Confederates we planters stand a poor show of selling a -pound of this almost priceless commodity.” - -“Sixty cents a pound!” groaned one of Mr. Gray’s companions. “Good -money, too, worth a hundred cents on a dollar, and now it has vanished -in flames and smoke.” - -“It wasn’t your cotton either, Mr. Randall,” Ned hastened to assure him. -“Rodney and I have spent two weeks locating the cotton hidden in our -swamp, and we can tell within two points of the compass the direction in -which every planter’s property lies from his gallery and mine. The pile -that was burned last night was half-way between yours and Mr. Gray’s.” - -“Whose was it, then?” - -“Mr. Randolph’s.” - -“I am very sorry to hear it,” said Mr. Gray earnestly. “If it is the -truth, Mr. Randolph will be left in very bad shape.” - -“Not worse than the rest of us, I reckon,” said Randall impatiently. “He -did all he could to help on the war, and now he’s afraid to go to the -front and help fight it out. It serves him right.” - -Mr. Gray might have retorted that there were others in the same -boat—that Mr. Randall himself had been a fierce secessionist when the -war first broke out and the Union armies and gunboats were far away, but -now professed to be a strong Union man because he was anxious to save -his cotton from being confiscated; but he said not a word in reply. He -turned away from the bars, and Ned Griffin hastened to the stable-yard -to put the saddle on his horse. His riding nag and Rodney’s were among -the few that had been left to their owners when Breckenridge’s army -retreated after the battle of Baton Rouge, and the reason they were left -was because the boys had done so much hospital duty both before and -after the fight. The rebel soldiers repaid their kindness by doing as -little stealing as possible under the circumstances; but when the -rear-guard disappeared from view the two friends could not find any -bacon and meal for breakfast. But their flocks of chickens and the few -scrub cows that were relied on to supply the plantations with milk and -butter were not molested, and Ned and Rodney were thankful for that. The -former came up with Mr. Gray and his party before they had gone very -far, and when they reached Rodney’s place they were joined by Rodney -himself, who seemed to be on the watch for them. He waved his hat in the -air when he saw his father and Ned approaching, but put it on his head -quickly when he discovered that they were not alone. In a moment more he -would have said something to be sorry for, because he knew whose cotton -had been burned and who was responsible for it. After greeting his -father and exchanging opinions with him and his friends, he fell back to -the rear and rode by Ned’s side, but could find no opportunity to -compare notes with him. However, each understood what the other would -have said if he could. - -Half an hour’s riding brought them to the pile of smoking cinders and -ashes that covered the spot where Mr. Randolph’s cotton had been -concealed inside a dense thicket of trees and bushes whose interior had -been cleared away to receive it. The road made by the heavy four-mule -wagons in passing in and out of the woods had been so carefully filled -with logs and tree-tops that scarcely a trace of it could be seen now, -and its owner had indulged in the hope that, with the exception of a few -neighbors and faithful servants, no one knew the hiding-place of all -that was left of his once abundant wealth; but some enemy had found it -out, and he was a ruined man. This was the opinion expressed by every -one of Mr. Gray’s party, for when they came to examine the ground, which -they did immediately upon their arrival, they did not find a single -hoof-print save those that had been made by their own riding horses. - -“There’s no cavalry been in here,” said Mr. Randall, who was the first -to give utterance to the thoughts that were in the minds of all, “and, -according to my way of thinking, that proves something.” - -There were a few half-consumed bales on the outside of the smoking pile, -and it was while the party was engaged in pulling these farther out of -reach of the fire that Mr. Randolph and his neighbor appeared on the -scene. Mr. Walker looked somewhat relieved, but remarked in an undertone -that there might have been more than one fire even if he didn’t see it, -and rode away at a rapid pace to assure himself of the safety of his own -cotton, while Mr. Randolph sat on his mule and gazed mournfully at the -blackened pile before him. There was no one who could say a word to -comfort him, for by this time the planters were all satisfied in their -own minds that someone with whom they were well acquainted had done the -work; and if that was the case, it might not be a great while before -their own cotton would disappear in the same way. They gradually drew -away and left him to his gloomy reflections, and then it was that Rodney -and Ned had a chance to compare notes and say a word to Mr. Gray in -private. When the latter had listened to Ned’s story, all he had to say -was that it would have been better for the community if Mr. Randolph had -not been so persistent in his efforts to have Tom released from military -duty. Of course he and the boys did not fail to satisfy themselves that -the cotton in which they were most interested was still safe in its -place of concealment, and Mr. Randolph did the same; that is, he spent -all the forenoon in visiting the different localities in which his -neighbors’ cotton had been hidden, and when he found, as he had -suspected from the first, that he was the only sufferer, his thoughts -were bitter and revengeful indeed. To make matters worse Mr. Walker said -to him while they were on their way home: - -“If you were the only Confederate in the settlement I could easily -explain this business; but why you should be singled out among so many -is something I can’t understand, unless it is because your son Tom has -served the cause with too much zeal.” - -“Tom hasn’t done any more than others, nor as much,” replied Mr. -Randolph. “Rodney Gray served fifteen months in the army, and here he is -living in perfect security and entirely unmolested by our conscript -officers, although he is known to be hand-and-glove with the enemies of -his country. I believe he has assisted escaped Yankee prisoners, even if -others do not.” - -“Perhaps he has,” said Mr. Walker, who was one of those disbelieving -ones who laughed the loudest when Tom told of his desperate fight with -“Uncle Sam’s Lost Boys,” who had been chased by bloodhounds while they -were terrorizing the country between Camp Pinckney and Mooreville. Mr. -Walker knew, of course, that there were four escaped prisoners somewhere -in the woods, who ran when they could, and killed their pursuers as -often as a fight was forced upon them, but he did not believe that Tom -Randolph had been a captive in their hands as he pretended, or that he -had escaped by knocking his guard on the head with the butt of a musket. -He knew Tom too well to put faith in any such story. He did not believe, -either, that Rodney Gray would go back on his record as a loyal -Confederate by helping runaway Yankees inside the lines at Baton Rouge. - -“Perhaps he has, though it is a hard tale for me to swallow,” continued -Mr. Walker. “But if you’d said that Rodney was given to helping -deserters I’d believe you. He’s got one in hiding this very minute.” - -“How do you know that?” demanded Mr. Randolph, now beginning to show -some interest in what his companion was saying. - -“You can’t keep anything from the niggers these times, and yesterday I -overheard two of my house servants talking about it when they thought -they were alone,” answered Mr. Walker. “It seems that Rodney and young -Griffin found the man in the woods half dead from wounds and hunger and -exhaustion, and took him home to nurse him back to health. There -wouldn’t be anything so very bad about that, and I don’t suppose Major -Morgan would object to it if he knew it; _but_ the man doesn’t want to -go back to camp, and as soon as he is able to travel Rodney allows to -take him to the river. There’s something wrong in that, I reckon.” - -“I should say there was,” exclaimed Mr. Randolph, who told himself that -now was the time to make his more fortunate neighbor suffer as keenly as -he was suffering himself in losing his valuable store of cotton. “Such -work as that must be against the law, and the conscript officer ought to -do something about it.” - -“That’s what I think,” said Mr. Walker; and then the two relapsed into -silence, for neither was willing to speak the thoughts that were passing -through his mind. - -When they reached the cross-roads they separated, Mr. Walker keeping on -toward home, while Tom’s father, believing it to be a good plan to -strike while the iron was hot, turned his mule in the direction of -Kimberley’s store. He found Major Morgan there; in fact he was always -there, for it was his place of business, and wasted not a moment in -conveying to him the startling information he had received from his -friend Walker: but to his unbounded surprise the major took it very -coolly. He listened until Mr. Randolph had told his story and then broke -out almost fiercely: - -“Do you for a moment imagine that I would have been ordered here if I -had not been thought capable of attending to affairs in my district? -That news is old. I knew all about it a week ago.” - -“Then why didn’t you arrest Rodney Gray a week ago?” said Mr. Randolph -hotly. - -“Because I am tired of working on evidence that is furnished me by -tale-bearers. You’ve got something against that young Gray or you would -not tell me this. I am satisfied to let that deserter stay where he is -for the present. He’s getting well there; he would die at Camp -Pinckney.” - -“You ought to be inside the Yankee lines,” declared Mr. Randolph, his -rage getting the better of his prudence. “There’s where you belong.” - -“And there’s where you will start for if you don’t leave my office this -instant,” roared the major, rising to his feet and upsetting his chair -in the act. “Captain!” - -But Mr. Randolph did not linger for the captain to present himself. He -hastened through the door, glancing nervously at the soldiers he passed -on the way for fear they might stop him, swung himself upon his mule, -and started for home, lost in wonder. It seemed that in some very -mysterious manner Rodney had gained an influence with the crusty -conscript officer equal to that which he exercised with the Federals in -Baton Rouge. Well, he had; but there was no mystery about it, only a -little strategy. Rodney had been intrusted by the major with a few gold -pieces which he had exchanged in Baton Rouge for greenbacks, and it -wasn’t likely that the officer was going to be hard on the boy who kept -his pocket filled with good money. Even inside the Confederate lines -greenbacks passed at par, and would buy more than rebel scrip, on which -there was a heavy discount. But Rodney did not carry news; that is to -say, neither side could wring from him a word of information concerning -the doings of the other side. The Federal provost marshal knew this and -so did Major Morgan, and the consequence was they were both willing to -trust him. To quote Rodney’s own language, he had fought for fame and -didn’t get it, and now he was working for money. All he had in prospect -was wrapped up in his father’s cotton, which was the source of no little -anxiety and trouble to him. - -Rodney was not aware that the major knew he was harboring a rebel -deserter, who had been badly wounded while escaping from the stockade at -Camp Pinckney, and was careful to keep the fact from the knowledge of -all except those who could be trusted. He did not care to receive -callers, for fear there might be a spy or mischief-maker among them, and -relied upon his hounds to give him warning when anyone rode up to the -front bars. They acted so savagely when they rushed in a body down the -walk to meet a stranger, that the latter, whoever he might be, usually -thought it prudent to hail the house before venturing to dismount, thus -giving Rodney time to get the deserter into some inner room where he -would be out of sight. But one morning, about two weeks after the -occurrence of the events we have just recorded, he had visitors so many -in number that they stood in no fear of the hounds, nor did they hail -the house. They simply threw down one or two of the top bars, jumped -their horses over the rest, and came up on a gallop, their leader -drawing rein in front of the open door, just in time to catch a -momentary glimpse of the deserter as he vanished into a back room. -Rodney’s heart sank. He had had all his work and worry for nothing. Of -course his unwelcome visitors, who were Federal cavalrymen, would take -the deserter to Baton Rouge when they went and ship him off to a -Northern prison. The officer in command of the squad, which was a much -larger one than Rodney had ever seen scouting through the country -before, proved to be a captain whose acquaintance he had formed during -one of his visits to the provost marshal’s office, and he walked out on -the porch and faced him as if he had nothing to conceal. - -“Good-morning,” said he, with a military salute. “What brought you out -here in such a hurry and so far from your base?” - -The captain waved his hand toward the back-yard as if to say to his men -that they were at liberty to break ranks and quench their thirst at the -well, and then he answered Rodney’s question. - -“We came out to pay our respects to the conscript officer in Mooreville, -but he was uncivil enough to light out before we could exchange a word -with him,” said the captain. “We didn’t want to ride all the way out -here for nothing, and so we changed our scouting party into a -cotton-burning expedition. I don’t suppose you would know a bale of -cotton if you ran against it, would you?” - -The words were spoken in jest, but Rodney knew there was a good deal of -truth in them, for he looked over the captain’s shoulder and saw a negro -standing at the bars under guard. He was one of Mr. Randall’s -field-hands, who had assisted in hauling his master’s cotton into the -swamp. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - THE PHANTOM BUSHWHACKERS. - -“I am not exactly on a cotton-burning expedition either,” continued the -captain, after he had drained the gourd which one of his men brought -him, filled with water fresh from the well, “but I am ordered to look -around and find it, so that I can tell whether or not it will pay the -government to send out wagons to haul it in. But if it is in such a bad -place that we can’t get it out, of course we shall have to burn it to -keep the enemy from profiting by it. I understand that there is a good -deal of cotton hidden about here somewhere, but I hope yours is where -nobody will find it.” - -“I haven’t a bale to bless myself with,” replied Rodney. - -“Perhaps not, but your father has; several of them,” said the officer -with a smile. “But I tell you it will go against the grain for us to -touch anything that belongs to you, after what you did for some of our -escaped prisoners.” - -“Then why can’t you give us a chance to take it inside your lines and -sell it?” inquired Rodney. “If it is the policy of the Federal -government to drain the South of cotton, don’t you see that every bale -we put into your hands will be one bale less for the Confederates?” - -“I understand that very well, but you see your rebel record is dead -against you. You fought us like fury for more than a year, and now, when -you find that you are in a fair way to get soundly whipped, you want to -turn around and make money out of us. That plan won’t work, Johnny. If -you could blot out your war record, or if you knew some solid Union man -you could trust to sell your cotton for you, why then——” - -“There isn’t a man, Union or rebel, in Louisiana that I would trust to -do work of that kind,” declared Rodney with emphasis. “I don’t say -whether my father has any cotton or not; but if he has he would tell you -Yanks to burn it and welcome before he would give any friend of his a -chance to cheat him out of it. Who buys cotton in the city—the -government?” - -“No; speculators. The government grabs it without so much as saying ‘by -your leave.’” - -“Do you give those speculators military protection?” - -“Not yet. They take their own chances, and protect themselves if they go -outside the pickets. But they are working for protection, and some day -they’ll get it.” - -“Do they pay in gold?” - -“Not as anybody has ever heard of,” replied the captain with a laugh. -“Confederate scrip for one thing, and——” - -“I wouldn’t look at it,” exclaimed Rodney. “I wouldn’t give a bale of -good cotton for a cart-load of Confederate scrip.” - -“A fine loyal grayback you are to talk that way about your country’s -shinplasters,” said the captain with another hearty laugh. “If all rebel -soldiers are like you, I don’t see why your armies didn’t fall to pieces -long ago.” - -“It is because they are held together by discipline that would drive -Union soldiers into mutiny in less than a week,” said Rodney bitterly. -“I’ll take to the woods with the rest of the outlaws before they shall -ever have an opportunity to try it on me again, and I know hundreds of -others who feel the same way. But I wish you would tell a sorry rebel -how to change cotton into money. If you will, I may become a trader -myself.” - -“If by _money_ you mean something besides Confederate rags, I must tell -you that it is what you will not see until every rebel has laid down his -arms and quit fighting the government, because all cotton brought within -our lines has to be purchased on contracts for payment at the close of -the war——” - -“Then go ahead with your burning expedition,” said Rodney, who thought -he had never heard anything quite so preposterous. “You’ll get mighty -little cotton about here on those terms.” - -“——at the close of the war,” continued the captain, paying no heed to -the interruption, “because, if paid for in coin or green-backs, the -money would be sure, sooner or later, to find its way into the rebel -treasury. Your authorities will not steal their own money, for they know -how worthless it is; but they’ll steal ours, and use it too, every -chance they get. I suppose that darky out there at the bars can show me -where the cotton is concealed?” - -“He knows where every bale of it is,” answered Rodney. “He helped hide -it.” - -“He declares he don’t want to go to Baton Rouge with us, but if he acts -as my guide I shall have to take him along, or you fellows who lose -cotton will kill him.” - -“And no doubt you will kill him if he refuses to act as your guide, so -he is bound to be killed any way you fix it,” said Rodney in disgust. -“He’ll not be harmed if he stays at home after you leave, and nobody -knows it better than he does. Ask him and see.” - -“Prepare to mount!” shouted the captain, thinking his men had wasted -time enough at the well. “By the way,” he added, in a lower tone, “who’s -your company, and why did he dig out in such haste when I rode up to the -door? He’s a reb, I know it by the cut of his jib.” - -“He’s a conscript I know, but he’s a deserter as well, and as good a -Union man as you are. He was in pretty bad shape when I found him -running from the hounds, but he is able to travel now, and if you will -leave him here a few days longer he will be glad to take refuge inside -your lines,” whispered Rodney, believing that the surest way for his -patient to escape trouble was to give the captain opportunity to parole -him then and there. “He hasn’t done any fighting, and never means to if -he can help it.” - -“Then he can stay and welcome, for all I care,” replied the captain. “I -never run a man in as a prisoner unless I have reason to think he is -dangerous.” - -“Where did you find Mr. Randall’s black man, and how did you come to -pick him up for a guide?” inquired Rodney. - -“I don’t know that I ought to tell you, but didn’t one of your neighbors -lose some cotton a while ago? His name is Randolph, and he wants us to -look out for a worthless fellow named Lambert, who, he thinks, burned -the cotton for him. He told me to go quietly up to Randall’s and ask for -Mose, and I would find in him a good guide; but I was in no case to -speak Randolph’s name in anybody’s hearing, and you see what pains I -have taken not to do it. But I don’t care. It’s spite work on Randolph’s -part.” - -“Of course it is,” answered Rodney, who was so discouraged that he had -half a mind to say that he would return to the army, and stay there -until one side or the other was whipped into submission. “Mr. Randolph -will work against everyone in the settlement now.” - -“Very likely. Misery loves company, you know; and perhaps there are more -men working against you than you think for. Do you know this Lambert, -and has he any cause to be down on you?” - -“I do know him, but he hasn’t the shadow of an excuse to be at enmity -with me or any of my family,” said Rodney in surprise. And then it was -on the end of his tongue to add that Lambert was working for -him—standing guard over his cotton to see that no one troubled it, but -he afterward had reason to be glad that he did not say it. - -“Then he is jealous, or I should say envious, of you, because you are -rich and he is poor,” said the captain, reining his horse about in -readiness to follow his men, who were now riding toward the bars. “If he -and his friends can sell your cotton so that they can pocket the money -they’ll do it——” - -“But they can’t. He shan’t,” exclaimed Rodney, who was utterly -confounded. “He hasn’t brains enough to carry out such a bare-faced -cheat, nor the power, either; though no doubt his will is good enough.” - -“Randolph says it is; and he says further, that when Lambert finds that -he can’t make anything out of that cotton, he’ll burn it. But I must be -riding along. I’ll be back before dark, and if this deserter of yours -would be glad of my escort, I’ll take him to Baton Rouge with me. What -would your Home Guards do to you if they should jump down on you and -find him here under your roof?” - -“It’s a matter I don’t like to think of,” answered Rodney, “and I shall -feel safer if you take him away. Good-by; but I can’t wish you good -luck. I wish I had never seen you,” he added under his breath, “for you -have robbed me of all my peace of mind. So Lambert is a traitor, is he? -and my plan for gaining his good will hasn’t amounted to shucks. I’ll -tell father about it the first thing in the morning, and would do it -to-day if I didn’t want to see that captain when he returns.” - -The deserter came out of his hiding-place when summoned, and eagerly -promised to be on hand to accompany the Federal soldiers to Baton Rouge. -He didn’t know what he would do for a living when he got there, he said, -but it would be a great comfort to know that he would not be forced into -the army to fight against the old flag. Rodney was too down-hearted to -say anything encouraging, but he gave him a short note to Mr. Martin, -who would see that he did not suffer while he was looking for -employment. Then he walked out on the porch, for he wanted to be alone, -and at that moment Ned Griffin rode into the yard. - -“O Rodney!” he exclaimed. “Did that cotton-burning expedition stop here, -and do you know that there’s the very mischief to pay? That nigger of -Randall’s will never show them where his master’s cotton is hidden, but -he’ll take them as straight as he can to yours and Walker’s. I tell you -that cotton is gone up unless we do something.” - -“Have you any suggestions to make?” asked Rodney. - -“Let’s engage all the teams we can rake and scrape and haul it somewhere -else,” said Ned at a venture. - -“What good will that do? It’s in as fine a hiding-place now as there is -in the country, and where are the wagons to come from? And the harness? -It is all I can do to find gears for eight plough-mules.” - -Ned rode away to turn his horse into the stable-yard, spent a long time -in taking a drink at the well, and finally came back and sat down on the -porch. - -“What do you think of that scoundrel Lambert, anyway?” he inquired. - -“That my plan for getting on his blind side did not work as well as we -thought it was going to. He has got even with Tom Randolph for drawing a -sword on him, and now he intends to get square with my father for -threatening him with a nigger’s punishment.” - -“I was with the mob that night,” said the young overseer angrily, “heard -every word that was said, and know that your father never threatened -Lambert with anything. He defended him and Tom as well, and sent me to -warn them that they had better clear out while the way was open to them. -And the last time I saw Lambert he pretended to be grateful to Mr. Gray -for what he said and did that night. Oh, the villain!” - -But it did no good to rail at Lambert for his perfidy, nor yet to -discuss the situation, for the one was safely out of their reach, and -talking and planning only served to show them how very gloomy and -perplexing the other was. It was simply exasperating to know that they -were utterly helpless, but that was the conclusion at which they finally -arrived. Time might make all things right, or it might reduce Mr. Gray -to poverty; and all they could do was to wait and see what it had in -store for them. - -Ned Griffin had been in Rodney’s company about two hours when one of the -hounds suddenly gave tongue, and the whole pack went racing down to the -bars. There was no one in sight, but after listening a moment the boys -heard the tramping of a multitude of hoofs up the road in the direction -in which the Federal soldiers had disappeared with Mr. Randall’s -field-hand for a guide. As the boys arose to their feet the leading -fours of the column came into view. - -“Sure’s you live that’s them,” whispered Ned. “But what brought them -back so soon?” - -Rodney hadn’t the least idea, but suggested that possibly the negro -guide had missed his way. - -“If he did he missed it on purpose; but that’s a thing he could not be -hired to do for fear the Yankees would shoot him,” replied Ned. “He may -have given them the slip.” - -“Never in this world,” answered Rodney emphatically. “When that darky -left my bars he was riding double with one of the troopers, and there -was a guard on each side of him. If he tried to run, he is dead enough -now.” - -The boys ran to the bars to wait for the captain, who rode at the head -of the column, to approach within speaking distance, and when he did the -words he addressed to them almost knocked them over. He appeared to be -as pleasant and good-natured as usual, but some of the men behind him -looked ugly. - -“Why didn’t you tell me that that cotton down there in the swamp is -guarded by a battalion of phantom bushwhackers?” said he. - -“A battalion of what?” exclaimed Rodney, as soon as he could speak. - -“Bushwhackers. Sharpshooters,” replied the captain. - -“Home Guards?” inquired Ned. - -“I don’t know about that, but I judge that they have your cotton under -their protection, for all they tried to do was to kill the darky so that -he couldn’t show us where it was. The men who rode in the rear of the -line never heard the whistle of a bullet, although they sung around me -and the nig pretty lively; and when the nig dropped they ceased firing -on the instant. We charged the woods in every direction, but never saw -one of them, nor did they make the least attempt to ambush us, as they -could have done if they had felt like it.” - -Rodney Gray had seldom been so astonished. He looked hard at the captain -and did not know what to say. The whole thing was a mystery he could not -explain on the spur of the moment. The captain sat on his horse in front -of the bars while he talked, but the line passed on until the rear fours -came up and halted. Then the boys saw that there was a rude litter slung -between two of the horses, and that the form of Mr. Randall’s -unfortunate field-hand was stretched upon it. Rodney walked up to the -litter at once, but Ned timidly held back. There was a crimson stain on -the bandage the negro wore about his head, and Ned could not endure the -sight of blood. - -“Oh, he isn’t dead,” said the captain, “but he’s too badly hurt to go -any farther just now. Besides, we can’t move as rapidly as we would like -as long as we have him with us, and I would take it as a favor if you -will care for him until his master can be sent for.” - -“Throw down those bars, Ned,” said Rodney, looking back over his -shoulder as he started on a run for the house. “Bring him along and I -will have a place fixed for him. Phantom bushwhackers!” he said to -himself. “Now who do you suppose they were? Not Lambert and his gang -certainly, for they haven’t the pluck to do such a thing; but I can -think of no others who would be likely to turn bushwhackers. Now’s your -chance for freedom and safety,” he added, pausing long enough to shake -hands with the deserter and help him down from the porch. “Be ready to -mount behind one of those Yanks when you get the word, and good luck to -you.” - -Rodney’s first care was to see that the wounded guide was made as -comfortable as circumstances would permit, and his second to send one of -his own field-hands to bring Mr. Randall and a doctor. After that, when -he had answered a farewell signal from the deserter, and the last of the -Federal column had disappeared down the road, he and Ned went back to -the porch, and sat down to talk the matter over. - -“I am as frightened now as I ever was in the army,” said Rodney -honestly. “I never could stand a mystery.” - -“There’s no mystery about this business,” replied Ned. “The Yanks lost -their guide, and had sense enough to give up the search and come back. -That’s all there is of it.” - -“But who shot him?” - -“Lambert and his crowd, and nobody else,” answered Ned positively. “If -they were Home Guards, why were they so careful that their bullets -should miss everyone except the darky? They didn’t want to hurt the -soldiers; they only wanted to send them back, and they took the only -method they could to do it.” - -“Well, if it was Lambert, and he is determined to protect that cotton -for his own profit, how am I going to haul it from the swamp myself if I -ever have a chance to move it?” demanded Rodney. “Will he not be likely -to bushwhack me too?” - -“By gracious!” gasped Ned, sinking back in his chair, “this is a very -pretty mess, I must say. I never once thought of such a thing; but if -that’s his game, he’ll bushwhack you or anybody else who tries to move -that cotton. However,” he added a moment later, his face brightening as -a cheering thought passed through his mind, “what’s the odds? We are not -ready to move the cotton yet, and until we are let’s take comfort in the -thought that no one who wants to steal it, be he Union or rebel, will -dare venture near it. Perhaps by the time you are ready to sell it, -Lambert will have been bushwhacked himself. How do you intend to treat -him from this time on?” - -“As an enemy with whom I cannot afford to be at outs,” replied Rodney. -“If he does any work for me I shall pay him for it; and although I shall -not try to put any soldiers on his trail, I’ll go into the woods myself -and hunt him down like a wild hog the minute I become satisfied that he -is trying to play me false. I came to this plantation on purpose to -watch father’s cotton, and I really wonder if Lambert imagines he can -spirit it away without my knowing anything about it.” - -“It’s the greatest scheme I ever heard of,” said Ned. “But it cannot be -carried out. We’ve got to go to work in earnest now to put up the bacon -and beef your father promised to give as the price of my exemption, and -while we are doing it, it will be no trouble for us to keep an eye on -that cotton.” - -Rodney Gray afterward declared that work and plenty of it was all that -kept him alive during the next three months, and it is a fact that as -the year drew to a close, with anything but encouraging prospects for -the ultimate success of the Union forces in the field, Rodney’s spirits -fell to zero. Although he never confessed it to Ned Griffin, the latter -knew, as well as he knew anything, that all Rodney’s hopes and his -father’s were centred on the speedy putting down of the rebellion, but -just now it looked as though that was going to be a hard, if not an -impossible, thing to do. “Burnside’s repulse at Fredericksburg in the -East had its Western counterpart in Sherman’s defeat on the Yazoo, and -indeed the whole year presented no grand results in favor of the -national armies except the capture of New Orleans.” But if Rodney had -only known it, some things, many of which took place hundreds of miles -away and on deep water, were slowly but surely working together for his -good. He knew that General Banks had relieved General Butler in command -of the Department of the Gulf; that he had an army of thirty thousand -men and a fleet of fifty-one vessels under his command; that his object -in coming was to “regulate the civil government of Louisiana, to direct -the military movements against the rebellion in that State and in Texas, -and to co-operate in the opening of the Mississippi by the reduction of -Port Hudson,” which was on the east bank of the river twenty-five miles -above Baton Rouge. As he straightway made the latter place his base of -operations, and gradually brought there an army of twenty-five thousand -men, Mooreville and all the surrounding country came within his grasp. -Major Morgan and his fifty veterans took a hasty leave, Camp Pinckney -was abandoned, and Confederate scouting parties were seldom seen at -Rodney’s plantation and Ned’s, although it was an everyday occurrence -for companies of blue-coats to stop at one place or the other and make -inquiries about the “Johnnies” that were supposed to be lurking in the -neighborhood. They never said “cotton” once, and this led Ned Griffin to -remark that perhaps the new general had driven the speculators away from -Baton Rouge and did not intend to allow any trading in his department. - -“Don’t say that out loud, or you will give me the blues again!” -exclaimed Rodney. “If it gets to Lambert’s ears, good-by cotton.” - -“I didn’t think of that,” answered Ned, frightened at the bare -suggestion of such a misfortune. “It will be much more to our interest -to make Lambert believe, if we can, that traders will be thicker than -dewberries the minute Port Hudson and Vicksburg are taken. That will -make him hold his hand if anything will.” - -As to Lambert, he “showed up” as often as he stood in need of any -supplies, and sometimes loitered about for half a day, as if waiting for -the boys to question him concerning a matter that, for reasons of his -own, he did not care to touch upon himself. He would have given -something to know what they thought of the “phantom bushwhackers” and -their methods, but Rodney and Ned never said a word to him about it. The -negro guide, who was more frightened than hurt, quickly recovered from -his injuries, and within a day or two after he was taken to his master’s -house ran away to the freedom he knew was awaiting him in Baton Rouge, -and that made one less to tell where the cotton was concealed. - -“I suppose the next bushwhacker will be a fellow about my size,” was -what Rodney often said to himself. “I have half a mind to pounce on -Lambert the next time he comes here and take him to Baton Rouge, but I -don’t know whether that would be the best thing to do or not, and my -father can’t advise me.” Then he would recall the Iron Duke’s famous -ejaculation, and adapt it to his own circumstances by adding, “Oh, that -a Union man or the end would come!” - -Since he was so positive that a Union man was the friend he needed, it -would seem that Rodney ought not to have been at a loss to find him -right there in the settlement. If there were any faith to be put in what -he saw and heard every time he went to Mooreville and Baton Rouge, there -were no other sort of men in the country—not one who had ever been a -Confederate or expressed the least sympathy for those who openly -advocated secession. According to their own story, scraps of which came -to Rodney’s ears now and then, Mr. Randolph and Tom had done little but -talk down secession and stand up for the Union ever since Fort Sumter -was fired upon, and Mr. Biglin, the red-hot rebel who put the -bloodhounds on the trail of the escaped prisoners Rodney was guiding to -the river, declared that his well-known love for the old flag had nearly -cost him his life. He was glad to see Banks’ army in Baton Rouge, he -said, for now he could speak his honest sentiments without having his -sleep disturbed by the fear that his rebel neighbors would break into -his house before morning and hang him to the plates of his own gallery. -The country was full of cowardly, hypocritical men like these, and what -troubled Rodney and Ned more than anything else was the fact that they -seemed to have more influence and be on closer terms with the Federals -than did the honest rebels who had ceased to fight because they knew -they were whipped. Rodney’s friend, Mr. Martin, who lived in Baton Rouge -and kept a sharp eye on these “converted rebels,” whose hatred for the -Union and everybody who believed in it was as intense and bitter as it -had ever been, told him that Mr. Biglin and others like him were using -every means in their power and making all sorts of false affidavits to -secure trade permits, and seemed in a fair way to get them too. Indeed, -so certain were they that they would succeed in their efforts, that they -were going out some day to look at the cotton in the Mooreville -district, and see what the prospects were for hauling it out. They were -even engaging teams to do the work. They were not to have military -protection, Mr. Martin said, but that was scarcely necessary, for the -Union cavalry had swept the country of Home Guards and conscript -soldiers for a hundred miles around. - -“But the Union cavalry hasn’t cleared the country of the bushwhackers -who shot Mr. Randall’s nigger,” said Ned Griffin, who always had a -cheering word to say when Rodney was the most disheartened. “If Mr. -Martin’s story is true, I hope Biglin will come himself and give them a -fair chance at him.” - -And Mr. Biglin did come himself, although Rodney thought he was too much -of a coward to venture so far into the country. He and half a dozen -other civilians rode into the yard one day and asked Rodney for a drink -of water, but that was only done to give them a chance to draw from him -a little information about cotton. Rodney greeted them in as friendly a -manner as he thought the occasion called for, and conducted them around -the house to the well. - -“I tell you it seems good to get out in the fresh air once more, and to -know that while here I am in no danger of being gobbled up by a -conscript officer and hustled away to fight under a flag I have always -despised,” said Mr. Biglin, putting his hands into his pockets and -walking up and down in front of the well. “So you have turned overseer, -have you, Rodney?” - -“I believe that was what I told you on the day I saw you in Mr. -Turnbull’s front yard,” was the answer. “I mean just before that darky -of yours came up——” - -“Yes, yes; I remember all about it now,” said Mr. Biglin hastily. And -then he tried to turn the conversation into another channel, for fear -that Rodney would go on to tell that the information that darky brought -was what caused Mr. Biglin to put the hounds on the trail of the escaped -Union prisoners. “Fine place you have here. A little rough, of course, -but it’s new yet. And I presume it suits you, for, if I remember -rightly, you always were fond of shooting and riding to the hounds. Have -you any cotton?” - -“Not a bale. Not a pound.” - -Mr. Biglin looked surprised, and so did his companions. The former -looked hard at the boy for a moment, and then changed the form of his -inquiry. - -“Oh, ah!” said he. “Has your father got any?” - -“Perhaps you had better go and ask him,” replied Rodney. - -“That’s just what we did not more than an hour ago, but he wouldn’t give -us any satisfaction.” - -“Then you have good cheek to come here expecting me to give you any,” -said the young overseer, growing angry. “My father is quite competent to -attend to his own business.” - -“I suppose he is. Why, yes; of course; but what’s the use of cutting off -your nose to spite your face? We know you have cotton and plenty of it; -and since you can’t sell it yourselves——” - -“Why can’t we?” interposed Rodney. - -Mr. Biglin acted as though he had no patience with one who could ask so -foolish a question. - -“Because of your secession record,” said he. “You were in the Southern -army, and your father is a rebel.” - -“So are you,” said Rodney bluntly. - -“I may have appeared to be at times in order to save my life, but I -never was a secessionist at heart,” said Mr. Biglin loftily. “I don’t -care who hears me say it, I am for the Union now and forever, one -and—and undivided. And General Banks’ provost marshal, or whatever you -call him, knows it.” - -“If he believes it, he is the biggest dunderhead in the world and isn’t -fit for the position he holds,” exclaimed Rodney. “I know you to be a -vindictive, red-hot rebel, and since things have turned out as they -have, I am sorry I did not tell the —th Michigan’s boys that you put the -hounds on——” - -“I never did it in this wide world,” protested Mr. Biglin, trying to -look astonished, but turning white instead. - -“Never did what?” inquired Rodney. - -“Put hounds on anybody’s trail. You had better be careful what you say.” - -“You don’t show your usual good sense in talking that way,” said one of -the civilians. “Our friend has influence enough to make you suffer for -it if he feels so inclined.” - -“And I had influence enough to make his house a heap of ashes long ago -if I had felt like it,” retorted Rodney. “I can prove every word I say -any day and shall be glad of the chance.” And then he wondered what he -would do if his visitors should take him at his word. He knew that he -could not prove his assertions without mentioning the name of Mrs. -Turnbull, and that was something he could not be made to do until he had -her full and free consent. - -“You are quite at liberty to tell what you know about me and my record -during this war,” observed Mr. Biglin, as he swung himself upon his -horse and turned the animal’s head toward the bars, “and you may _have_ -to tell it, whether you want to or not.” - -With this parting shot, which he hoped would leave Rodney in a very -uncomfortable frame of mind, Mr. Biglin rode away, followed by his -friends, and passing through the bars turned up the road leading toward -the swamp in which Mr. Gray’s cotton was concealed. No sooner had they -disappeared than Ned Griffin, who was always on the watch and knew when -Rodney had visitors he did not want to see, threw down the bars and rode -into the yard. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - THE COTTON THIEVES. - -“Who are those men, and what did they want?” inquired Ned, as he got off -his horse at the foot of the steps. “Are they cotton traders?” - -“I wish I hadn’t gone at them quite so rough,” replied Rodney. “You know -what a red-hot rebel Biglin has always been, don’t you?” - -“I should say so. If he could have his way he’d hang every Union man in -the country.” - -“Well, he had the impudence to declare in my presence, not more than -five minutes ago, that he’d always been strong for the Union and dead -against secession, and it made me so indignant that I said things which -drove him away before he had time to make his business known. But he -told me he had questioned my father about cotton and got no -satisfaction.” - -“And did he think you would give it to him when your father would not?” -demanded Ned. - -“He and his friends seemed to think so, but I gave them to -understand—Great Scott!” - -“Hallo! What’s come over you all on a sudden?” exclaimed Ned, as Rodney -jumped to his feet and gazed anxiously up the road in the direction in -which Mr. Biglin and his party had just disappeared. - -“Who knows but I have let them go to their death?” answered Rodney. -“They don’t know that one party who tried to find that cotton was fired -upon in the woods, and I was so provoked at Biglin that I forgot to tell -them.” - -“W-h-e-w!” whistled Ned. “I never thought of it either. Well, let them -go on and find it out for themselves. They wouldn’t have believed you if -you had told them. They would have said right away that you were trying -to keep them out of the woods, and that would have made them all the -more determined to go in. I should be sorry to see any of them shot, but -now that I am here I’m going to stay with you and see the thing out.” - -Nothing could have suited Rodney Gray better. He was lonely and -depressed and felt the need of cheerful company, so he went with Ned -when the latter turned his horse into the stable-yard, and repeated to -him every word of the conversation that took place while Mr. Biglin and -his friends were at the well. - -“There’s just one thing about it,” said Ned, when he had heard the -story. “If Biglin hasn’t already got a permit to trade he is certain as -he can be that he’s going to have it, and that’s what brought him out -here. But I can’t imagine what he meant when he said you might be -obliged to tell what you know about him and his record.” - -“No more can I, but I should be glad to do it if it were not for -bringing Mrs. Turnbull’s name into the muss. Has Biglin got any money, -do you think, or does he intend to pay for his cotton in promises? If I -were in father’s place I would not take his note for a picayune, for -there’s no telling where Biglin will be at the close of the war.” - -“That’s so,” assented Ned. “But we’ll not worry about money until we see -some in prospect, will we? We haven’t lost the cotton yet.” - -And they didn’t lose it that day and neither did Mr. Biglin and his -party find it, for the very thing happened that Rodney was afraid of. He -and Ned sat on the porch for an hour or more, conversing in low tones -and waiting for and dreading something, they could scarcely have told -what, when the clatter of hoofs up the road set the hounds’ tongues in -motion and took them out to the bars in a body. It took Rodney and Ned -out there too, and when they gained the middle of the road they saw -three horses bearing down upon them with their bridles and stirrups -flying loose in the wind and their saddles empty. A little farther up -the highway were a couple of mounted men, who were bending low over the -pommels of their saddles, plying their whips as rapidly as they could -make their arms move up and down, and a few rods behind them were two -more riderless horses. Both men and animals appeared to be frightened -out of their senses. The leading horses would not stop, but dashed -frantically into the bushes by the roadside rather than permit the two -boys to capture them, and the men, as well as the horses that brought up -the rear, went by like the wind, and without in the least slackening -their headlong flight. - -“Well, I do think in my soul! What’s up?” whispered Ned, who had dodged -nimbly out of the road to escape being run down. - -“There were seven in the party, and only two have returned,” murmured -Rodney. - -“They must have seen something dreadful in there,” faltered Ned. - -“Beyond a doubt they have been fired upon, but I don’t believe they saw -anything,” answered Rodney. “They heard the whistle of bullets and -buckshot, most likely, and it scared them half to death. Come on. Let’s -hurry.” - -“Where are you going?” demanded Ned, as Rodney turned about and ran -toward the house. - -“After my horse. There are five men missing, and it may be that some of -them were shot. And even if they were unhorsed and not hurt at all, they -need help if they are as badly frightened as the two that just went by.” - -Not being a soldier, Ned Griffin was in no haste to ride into a dark -swamp to brave an invisible bushwhacker, who might be as ready to shoot -him as anybody else, but when Rodney broke into a run and started for -the stable-yard, he kept close at his heels. The two saddled their -horses with all haste, and with the eager and excited hounds for a -body-guard, rode through the bars just in time to meet the two survivors -of Mr. Biglin’s party, who had at last found courage enough to stop -their frantic steeds and come back. - -“O Rodney; this is an awful day for us!” cried one of the frightened -men. “I wish we had never heard of that cotton.” - -“The cotton is all right if you will keep your thievish hands off from -it,” replied Rodney. “What’s the matter with you, and where are Mr. -Biglin and the rest?” - -“Dead or prisoners, the last one of them. There’s a whole regiment in -there, and they opened on us before we had left the road half a mile -behind.” - -“A whole regiment of what?” - -“Indians, judging by the way they yelled, though I suppose they were -Yankee soldiers out on a scout.” - -“Not much!” exclaimed Rodney. - -“How do you know what they were? You didn’t see them.” - -“Did you?” - -“Well, no; but I heard them yell, and I heard their bullets singing, -too. The swamp is full of them.” - -“If they were Federal scouts you would have seen them,” said Rodney. -“They would have closed around you before you had a chance to draw the -revolver I see sticking out of your coat pocket.” - -“It’s empty,” said the man, producing the weapon. “I never was in a -fight before and never want to be again; but I tried to give them as -good as they sent.” - -“If you did not see any of the attacking party, what did you shoot at?” - -“I fired in the direction from which the yells sounded, and so did all -of us. As for the bullets, you couldn’t tell which way they came from, -for they clipped the trees on all sides. Where are you and Griffin -going?” - -“Into the swamp to see if we can be of use to anybody.” - -“I really wish you would, for I wouldn’t dare go back there myself. If -they were not Yankees, who were they?” - -“Didn’t you just tell me that I wasn’t there?” asked Rodney. - -“But all the same you have a pretty good idea who they were, and you -don’t want to bring yourself into trouble by shielding them.” - -“I am not trying to shield anybody,” answered Rodney. - -“Do you think they were citizens who tried to kill us because they -didn’t want us to find their cotton?” inquired the second man, who had -not spoken before. - -“If you had a fortune hidden out there in the woods, would you let -anybody steal it from you if you could help it?” asked Rodney in reply. -“I don’t think you would.” - -“But we expect every day to get a permit to trade in cotton,” said the -first speaker, “and that will give us license to take it wherever we can -find it.” - -“I reckon not,” said the boy hotly. “General Banks has a right to order -his soldiers to take cotton or anything else for the benefit of his -government or to cripple the Confederacy, but he has no shadow of a -right to license stealing by civilians, and I don’t think he will do it. -If he does, there will be some of the liveliest fighting around here he -ever heard of.” - -“If I thought those villains in there were citizens I’d——” - -“You’d what?” said Rodney, when the man paused and looked at his -companion. “Do you want to kick up another civil war right here in your -own neighborhood? Both of you own property, and if you desire to save it -you will take care what you do. If you will go into the house and sit -down for an hour or two we may be back with news of your friends.” - -“I’ll not do it,” replied the man, who had not yet recovered from his -fright, “for there’s no telling how soon those ruffians may come this -way. I will ride into Baton Rouge and send some soldiers out here.” - -So saying he and his companion wheeled their horses and galloped away, -and the two boys rode on toward the swamp. - -“Now look at you!” said Ned, when they were once more alone. “You have -paved the way for the neatest kind of a fuss. Did you notice what Mr. -Louden said about sending soldiers out here?” - -“I did; but when he tries it I think he’ll find he has not been hired to -take the command of the Department of the Gulf out of the hands of -General Banks. If Banks is anything like the generals I have served -under he’ll not take suggestions from anybody, much less a civilian. I -told the truth when I hinted that that cotton might have been protected -by citizens, for that is what Lambert and his gang are.” - -“But Louden thought you meant planters,” urged Ned. - -“I can’t help what he thought; and I noticed, too, that he suspected me -of shielding the bushwhackers, because I would not tell who they were. -Oh, I know we shall see fun before we hear the last of that cotton, but -we’ll hold fast to it as long as we can.” - -The boys rode rapidly while they talked, and in a few minutes turned off -the road and plunged into the tangled recesses of as gloomy a piece of -timber as could have been found anywhere—just the finest place in the -world for an ambuscade, as Rodney remarked when he led the way into it. -They could not see ten feet in any direction, but they heard something -before they had gone a mile into the swamp. The hounds gave tongue -savagely and dashed away in a body, a wild shriek of terror arose from a -thicket close in front of Rodney’s horse, and in the next instant up -bobbed Mr. Biglin. But he didn’t show any of the courage of which he had -boasted. His face was very white, and his empty hands were held high -above his head. He had as fair a view of Rodney’s face as he ever had in -his life, but was so badly frightened that he did not recognize him. - -“Don’t you see that I surrender?” he yelled. “Call off your -bloodhounds.” - -[Illustration: MR. BIGLIN SURRENDERS.] - -“All right,” said the boy, who rather enjoyed the spectacle. “The dogs -won’t hurt you. Come out of the bushes and tell us all about it.” - -“O Rodney, is that you?” exclaimed Mr. Biglin, but he wasn’t quite sure -of it, and didn’t think it safe to lower his uplifted hands. “Where are -they? They have been beating the woods in every direction to find me.” - -“They? Who?” - -“I am sure I don’t know, but there’s a regiment of them. They shot down -every horse in the party before we knew there was danger near, and then -set out to hunt us at their leisure. Have you seen them? Where are they -now?” - -“Come out and tell us where the other four are,” said Rodney, who had by -this time satisfied himself that Mr. Biglin had escaped uninjured. “Your -horses are all right, and so are Miles and Louden. Ned and I had a short -talk with them not more than an hour ago.” - -“I am surprised to hear it,” said Mr. Biglin, with a long-drawn sigh of -relief. “I was sure they had all been killed.” He put down his hands and -came out of his concealment as he spoke, but he stepped cautiously as if -afraid of making a noise, and cast timid glances on all sides of him. -“It’s just awful to be shot at in that cold-blooded way, isn’t it? I -don’t see how you stood it so long in the army.” - -“Do you imagine that I stayed there and let the Yanks pop at me because -I thought it was funny?” demanded Rodney. “I stayed so long for the -reason that I couldn’t help myself. Miles and Louden have gone on to the -city, and I reckon your horses must be there by this time if they kept -on running.” - -“And did the horses escape also?” said Mr. Biglin, who looked as though -he didn’t know whether to believe it or not. “It’s really wonderful how -any of us came out alive.” - -Instead of replying Rodney threw back his head and shouted “Hey-youp!” -so loudly that the woods rang with the sound. - -“What made you do that?” said Mr. Biglin in a frightened whisper, at the -same time backing toward the thicket from which he had just emerged. “Do -you want to show the enemy where we are?” - -“No; but I want to let your four friends know where we are.” - -He raised his war-whoop a second time, following it up by calling out -the names of the missing men and telling them to come on, for there was -nothing to be afraid of. There was a long silence—so long that Rodney -began to fear the party had become widely separated during the hurried -stampede of its members; but after a while a faint answering shout came -to his ears, then another and another, and finally he could hear the -missing men making their way through the bushes in his direction. When -they came up it was found that not one of them had been injured by the -shower of bullets which had whistled about their ears thicker than any -hailstones _they_ ever saw, but they were all pale and nervous, and -begged Rodney and Ned to take them out of the woods by the shortest and -easiest route. Seeing that two of them were almost ready to drop with -fear or exhaustion, the boys gave them their horses and led the way on -foot. Not a word was said until they found themselves safe in the road, -and then Mr. Biglin recovered his courage and the use of his tongue. - -“Quite a thrilling experience for men who do not claim to be fighters,” -said he, taking off his hat and wiping away the sweat which stood on his -forehead in big drops. “And a most wonderful escape for all of us. If -I’d had the least suspicion that such a thing was going to happen, you -wouldn’t have caught me going into that swamp. But the men who fired on -us, whoever they are, must be punished for their audacity. They couldn’t -have been Union troops, for as soon as we recovered from the -astonishment and panic into which we were thrown by their first volley, -we shouted to them that we had a permit from General Banks, but it -didn’t do any good.” - -“It did harm, though,” remarked one of his companions, “for I am -positive that their yells grew louder and that the bullets came much -thicker than before. Have you boys any idea who they were?” - -This was a question that neither of them intended to answer if he could -help it. If they said what they thought, Mr. Biglin would carry their -story straight to the Federal provost marshal, or to someone else in -authority in Baton Rouge, and it might lead to something that would end -in bloodshed. Lambert’s actions said as plainly as words that if he -couldn’t profit by the sale of that cotton himself, nobody else should -lay hands upon it, and having driven away two parties who had tried to -discover its hiding-place, it was barely possible that he might have -gained courage enough to resist soldiers, if any were sent into the -swamp to drive him out. Lambert was showing himself a good friend just -now, however disagreeable and dangerous he might prove to be by and by, -and Rodney did not want General Banks to send troopers after him. When -the Union man he was waiting for “turned up,” the general might rid the -settlement of Lambert’s presence as soon as he pleased. - -“If I didn’t know that Tom Randolph’s company of Home Guards was broken -up, I should blame them for this day’s work,” said one of Mr. Biglin’s -companions. - -“How do you know the company was broken up?” inquired Rodney. - -“Why, I heard they were all conscripted long ago.” - -“That may be; but they didn’t all go to Camp Pinckney. Some of them took -to the woods.” - -“But even if they would fire upon their old friends and neighbors, which -isn’t probable, they have no interest in protecting the cotton in the -swamp, for they don’t own a dollar’s worth of it.” - -“I don’t care who they are,” said Mr. Biglin. “They will find that the -arm of our government is long enough to reach them wherever they hide -themselves.” - -“_Our_ government!” repeated Rodney. “Which one do you mean?” - -“There is but one, young man, and you rebels can’t break it up, try as -hard as you will.” - -It made Rodney angry to hear Mr. Biglin talk in this strain, but before -he could frame a suitable rejoinder the planter switched him off on -another track by inquiring: - -“Now, how are we to get to the city?” - -“I am sure I don’t know unless you walk,” answered Rodney. - -“Can’t you raise five saddle nags on your place?” - -“No, sir. And if I could, I wouldn’t let them go inside the Yankee -lines. I’d never see them again.” - -“I give you my word that I will take the best of care of them.” - -“You couldn’t take any sort of care of them. In less than five minutes -after you reached the city my horses would be gone, and when you found -them again, if you ever did, they would have some company’s brand on -them. I know what I am talking about, for I have been a cavalryman -myself. I have known regiments in the same brigade to steal from one -another.” - -“In that case wouldn’t the brand show where the horse belonged?” - -“It might if it was let alone, but it is easy to change it. I stole a -horse from company _I_ once, and when he was found in my possession a -week or two afterward, there was my company letter _D_ on his flank as -plain as the nose on your face.” - -“And didn’t you have to give him up to his rightful owner?” - -“Course not. I said if he wasn’t my horse, how came that letter _D_ -branded on him, and that settled it. Won’t you go in and rest a few -minutes?” - -As Rodney said this he waved his hand toward the house, whose front door -stood invitingly open, but Mr. Biglin replied that he did not care to -sit down until he was out of sight of the swamp, and beyond the reach of -the terrible Home Guards who made their hiding-place there. So he and -his companions walked on, and Rodney and Ned turned into the yard. - -“_Our_ government!” Rodney said over and over again while they were at -the well watering their horses. “He’d give everything he’s got if he -could see it broken up this minute.” - -“Of course he would, but he and his kind stand higher with the Federals -than you do,” replied Ned. “Now, all we can do is to possess our souls -in patience and wait for the next act on the programme. Let’s see if Mr. -Biglin’s government will send soldiers to protect him in his -cotton-stealing.” - -It was very easy for Ned to talk of waiting patiently, but it was a hard -thing to do. He and Rodney looked anxiously for the appearance of the -cavalry that Mr. Biglin and one of his friends had threatened to send -against the men who had driven them from the swamp, but they never came. -They saw and talked with a good many troopers, who drank all the milk -they could find and asked about the Johnnies that were supposed to be -“snooping around” in that part of the country, but to the boys’ great -relief they did not say a word about cotton or Home Guards, and Rodney -hoped he had seen the last of Mr. Biglin. He was ready to make terms -with a genuine Yankee who would offer him sixty cents a pound for his -father’s cotton, but he wanted nothing to do with converted rebels. He -and Ned made several trips to the city, bringing out each time some -things that were not contraband of war, and some others that would have -caused the prompt confiscation of his whole wagon load if they had been -discovered, but his friend Mr. Martin, on whom he relied for information -of every sort, could not give him any advice on the subject that was -nearest to his heart. - -“The city is full of men who are working their level best to get -permits,” said he, “but I am told it takes lots of influence and a clean -record to get them.” - -“Then Biglin will never have the handling of my father’s cotton,” said -Rodney with a sigh of satisfaction. “His record is as bad as mine.” - -“Much worse,” answered Mr. Martin, “for you never went back on your -friends and became a spy and informer. That is just what that man Biglin -has done, but I have reason to think he isn’t making much at it. Someone -has been telling true stories about him, and the provost marshal knows -his history like a book. O Rodney, why didn’t you keep out of the rebel -army and proclaim yourself a Union man at the start, no matter whether -you were or not. You would have plain sailing now.” - -Rodney laughed and said it was too late to think of that; and besides, -why didn’t Mr. Martin proclaim himself a Union man at the start? Perhaps -he wouldn’t have been so closely watched. - -Rodney saw and talked with Lambert about three times a week, but the -ex-Home Guard did not volunteer any information regarding his doings in -the swamp, and the boy took care not to ask him for any. He never -inquired how or where the man lived, how many companions he had, whether -or not they ever held communication with their friends in Mooreville—in -fact, Lambert more than once complained to Ned Griffin that Rodney did -not seem to care any more for the conscripts who were watching night and -day to protect his father’s cotton than he did for the wild hogs he was -shooting for his winter’s supply of bacon. When Rodney first began -hunting these hogs it was with the expectation that every pound of meat -he secured would have to be turned over to the agents of the Confederate -government as the price of Ned Griffin’s exemption; but when General -Banks began massing his army at Baton Rouge with a view of operating -against Port Hudson, and the country roundabout had been cleared of -rebel soldiers and conscript officers, Rodney hadn’t troubled himself -much about the exemption bacon. He was glad to believe he would not be -called on to pay it. - -Affairs went on in a very unsatisfactory way until the middle of -February before any event that was either exciting or interesting -occurred to break the monotony, if we except one single thing—the -Emancipation Proclamation. Of course the news that the slaves had been -freed created something of an excitement at first, especially among such -men as Lambert and his outlaws who never had the price of a pickaninny -in their pockets, but it had little effect upon Rodney Gray and his -father, because they had been looking for it for six months. In -September President Lincoln told the Southern people very plainly that -if they did not lay down their arms and return to their allegiance he -would declare their slaves free, and now he had kept his promise. Rodney -remembered how he had laughed at his cousin Marcy, and how angry he was -at him when the latter declared that if the South tried to break up the -government she would lose all her negroes, but now he saw that Marcy was -right. More than that, he knew that the North had the power and the will -to enforce the proclamation. Mr. Martin gave him a copy of it and he -took it home with him, intending to read it to his negroes; but the news -reached the plantation before he did, and he found the field-hands -gathered about the kitchen waiting for him. - -“Is Moster Linkum done sot we black ones all free?” they demanded in -chorus, as Rodney rode among them. - -“Who told you anything about it?” he asked, in reply. - -“De cutes’ little catbird you ebber see done sot hisself up dar on de -ridge-pole, an’ sung it to we black ones,” answered the driver; and then -they all shouted and laughed at the top of their voices. “Is we free -sure ’nough?” added the driver. - -“That depends upon whether you are or not,” answered Rodney, taking the -proclamation from his pocket and holding it aloft so that all could see -it. “In the first place, who owns this part of Louisiana right around -here? In whose possession is it?” - -“De Yankees, bress the Lawd,” said the negroes, with one voice. - -“Then you are not free, and Mr. Lincoln says so.” - -“Why, Moss Rodney, please sar, how come dat?” stammered the driver, and -all the black faces around him took on a look of deep disappointment and -sorrow. - -“I have Mr. Lincoln’s own words for it,” replied Rodney. “This paper -says, in effect, that the slaves are free in all States in rebellion, -except in such parts as are held by the armies of the United States. Do -the Yankees around here belong to the armies of the United States, and -are they holding this country—this part of the State? Then you will not -be free until the rebels come in and drive them out.” - -“O Lawd! O Lawd!” moaned the driver. “Den we uns won’t nebber be free. -Dem rebels won’t luf us go.” - -“That’s what I think, so you had better dig out while you have the -chance. You are bound to have your freedom some day, and you might as -well take it now. Don’t go off like thieves in the night, but come up -here boldly and shake hands with me as you would if you were going back -to the home plantation. And when you get sick of the Yankees and their -ways, come back, and I will treat you as well as I ever did. Bob, you -had better go for one. You don’t earn your salt here.” - -This was all Rodney had to say regarding the Emancipation Proclamation, -but it was more than his darkies bargained for. While they were glad to -know that they were free men and women, they were not glad to see Rodney -so perfectly willing to let them go. He didn’t care a snap whether they -went or stayed, and that made them all the more anxious to stay where -they were sure of getting plenty to eat and clothes to wear. Bob and one -other worthless negro took Rodney at his word, and left the plantation -that very afternoon, but they did not go to the house to bid him -good-by. They packed their bundles in secret, and slipped away “like -thieves in the night”; but, before they had been gone two hours, Lambert -marched them back to the bars at the muzzle of his rifle. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - THE MAN HE WANTED TO SEE. - -“What in the world did you bring those useless fellows back here for?” -was the way in which Rodney Gray welcomed Lambert when he marched the -two negroes up to the porch where he was sitting. “I was in hopes I had -seen the last of them.” - -“Why, dog-gone it, they’re yourn, an’ I jest want to see if what they -have been tellin’ me is the truth,” said Lambert in a surprised tone. “I -found ’em pikin’ along the highway with them packs onto their backs an’ -no passes into their pockets——” - -“Don’t need no passes no mo’,” interrupted Bob in a surly voice. “I am -jes as free as you be, Mistah Lambert.” - -“Jest listen at the nigger’s imperdence!” cried Lambert, astonished and -angry because Rodney did not at once take Bob to task for his freedom of -speech. “This is what comes of havin’ so many Yankees prowlin’ about the -country.” - -“That’s about the size of it. Bob is as free as you or I, and here is -the paper that says so,” declared Rodney, taking a printed copy of the -proclamation from his pocket. - -“Who writ that there paper, an’ where did you get it?” - -“The city is flooded with copies of it, and the first scouting party -that rides through here will scatter it right and left among the -negroes. President Lincoln wrote it.” - -“What right’s he got to do anything of the sort? The niggers don’t -belong to him.” - -“Well, he’s done it, any way, and you and your friends will have to come -out of the swamp and go to work if you hope to get anything to eat. My -father says we can’t help ourselves, and that’s why I talked to Bob and -the rest the way I did a while ago.” - -“But I aint agreein’ to no such arrangement,” replied Lambert, who could -scarcely have felt more aggrieved and insulted if he had been the -largest slaveholder in the State. - -“Nobody asked my father if he would agree to it, either; but he’ll have -to take war as it comes, and so will you and all of us. The blacks are -lost to us and you will have to go to work; I don’t see any way out of -it. You might as well turn your prisoners loose and let them go among -the Yanks if they want to.” - -The ignorant Lambert could not yet understand the situation, for it took -him a long time to get new things through his head, and this was the -first he had heard of the Emancipation Proclamation. He looked hard at -Rodney to see if he was in earnest, then swung his clubbed rifle in the -air and shouted “Git!” at the top of his voice; whereupon the frightened -darkies took to their heels and disappeared in an instant. But they did -not retreat in the direction of the road. They made the best of their -way to their cabins in the quarter and hid themselves there. When they -were out of sight Lambert put his rifle under his arm and pulled out his -cob pipe. - -“I’m more of a secessioner now nor I ever was before,” said he. “We uns -have just got to whop in this war, kase if we don’t our niggers will be -gone, an’ where’ll I get a job of overseein’?” - -“You’ll never be an overseer again,” answered Rodney. “You will have to -go into the field and hoe cotton and cane yourself.” - -“Not by no means I won’t,” said Lambert fiercely. “That there is -nigger’s work, an’ I can’t seem to stoop to it. It don’t make no sort of -difference to rich folks like you how the war ends, kase you’ve got -cotton, an’ cotton is money these times. I aint got nary thing.” - -Lambert watched Rodney out of the corners of his eyes while he was -applying a lighted match to the tobacco with which he had filled his -pipe, but the boy had nothing to say. He thought there was a threat -hidden under Lambert’s last words. - -“There’s one thing about it,” the latter continued after a little pause, -“if we get whopped I won’t be the only poor man there is in Louisiany, -tell your folks.” - -With this parting shot he turned his mule about and rode out of the -yard. And Rodney, angry as he was, let him go. He knew now just what he -had to expect from the ex-Home Guard and made the mental resolution -that, if his father would consent, he would be prepared to make a -prisoner of Lambert the next time he met him. - -“Something of the sort must be done, and before long, too,” thought -Rodney when he went to bed that night, “or the first thing we know our -cotton will go the way Mr. Randolph’s did. If the cotton was mine I -would promise to hand Lambert a few hundred dollars as soon as it was -sold, but then he is so treacherous I couldn’t put any faith in his -promises. I wish he had kept away from here to-day. His visit worried me -more than Lincoln’s proclamation.” - -Rodney intended to go home and lay the matter before his father as soon -as he had seen the hands fairly at work in the morning; but just as he -arose from his breakfast Mr. Gray rode into the yard, accompanied by a -stranger whose appearance and actions attracted Rodney’s attention at -once and amused him not a little. He sat on a bare-back mule (Mr. Gray’s -fine horses and saddles had disappeared with Breckenridge’s men), with -his shoulders humped up, his head drawn down between them, his arms -stiffened and his hands braced firmly against the mule’s withers, and -his broad back bent in the form of an arch. He wore a blue flannel suit, -a black slouch hat, a flowing neck-handkerchief tied low on his breast, -and finer shoes and stockings than Rodney himself had been in the habit -of wearing of late. He had a sharp blue eye, a bronzed face, a heavy -blond mustache, and gazed about him with the air of one who might know a -thing or two, even if he didn’t know how to ride a mule bare-back. -Rodney hastened down the steps to welcome his father, and then looked -inquiringly at the young man in blue, who placed his clenched hands on -his hips and stared hard at Rodney. - - “De oberseer he gib us trouble, - An’ he dribe us round a spell; - We’ll lock him up in de smokehouse cellar, - Wid de key frown in de well. - De whip is los’, de hand-cuff broken, - An’ ole moster’ll have his pay; - He’s ole ’nough, big ’nough, an’ oughter knowed better - Dan to went an’ run away,” - -sang the stranger in a melodious tenor voice. “Hallo, Johnny!” - -“Hallo, yourself,” replied Rodney. He was so astonished at this strange -greeting that he did not know what else to say. He gazed earnestly at -the singer, but there was no smile of recognition under the blond -mustache, though the blue eyes twinkled merrily. Then he looked toward -his father for an explanation, but that gentleman, who had by this time -dismounted, stood with his folded arms resting on his mule’s back, and -had not a word of explanation to offer. - -“You are a very nice-looking rebel, I must say,” were the visitor’s next -words. - -“I am aware of it,” returned Rodney; “but they are the best I’ve got to -my back.” - -“I was speaking of you and not of your clothes,” said the stranger -hastily. “My good mother away up in North Carolina long ago taught me——” - -“Jack! O Jack!” shouted Rodney joyfully. With one jump he reached his -cousin’s side, and seizing his outstretched hand in both his own, fairly -dragged him to the ground. - -“Easy, easy!” cautioned Mr. Gray. “That’s Jack, but he isn’t quite as -sound as he was the last time you met him.” - -“I am overjoyed to see you after so long a separation,” said Rodney, in -some degree moderating the energy of his hand-shaking. “How did you -leave Marcy and his mother? and has Marcy always been true to his -colors, as he so often declared he would be, no matter what happened? -How came you here when nobody dreamed of seeing you, and where have you -been to get hurt?” - -“I have been offsetting your work,” replied Jack, rolling alongside -Rodney, sailor fashion, as the latter slipped an arm through his own and -led him to the porch. “You worked fifteen months to make this unholy -rebellion successful, and I worked sixteen months and more to put it -down; so you might as well have stayed at home with your mother.” - -“Then you have been at sea?” exclaimed Rodney. - -“Correct. There’s where I belong, you know. And I heard in a roundabout -way that Marcy has had a brief experience, also. He was pilot on one of -our gunboats during the fights at Roanoke Island, but where he is now I -haven’t the least idea. It is a long time since I got a word from home,” -said the sailor sadly. “I am on my way there now, and figuring to make -some money by the trip. I am dead broke.” - -“Haven’t you a discharge?” - -“A sort of one, but nary cent of cash.” - -“How does that come? Why didn’t your paymaster settle with you when he -handed over your discharge?” - -“Well, the first one couldn’t very handily, because he was captured, -together with his money and accounts; and the second one couldn’t do it -either, for he was captured too, and his money and books went to the -bottom of the Gulf of Mexico, or into the hands of that pirate Semmes, -which amounts to the same thing.” - -“Why, Jack, what do you mean? You must have been in a fight.” - -“That was what I thought when I found myself stranded on the deck of a -strange ship without a bag or hammock to bless myself with, and no mess -number,” said Jack, with a laugh. “My first vessel, the _Harriet Lane_, -was captured at Galveston on New Year’s Day, and my second, the -_Hatteras_, was sunk on the night of the 11th by the _Alabama_. Yes, I -have been in two or three fights.” - -“Of course we heard about the two you mention, but never once thought of -your being there,” said Rodney. “Were you shot?” - -“Oh, no. I was struck on the shoulder by something, don’t know what, -when the gunboat _Westfield_ was blown up by her crew to keep her from -falling into the hands of the rebels. If I hadn’t been a good swimmer I -should now be rusticating at Tyler, Texas, or some other Southern -watering-place.” - -“Well, now, take this big chair—you have grown to be a pretty good-sized -fellow since I last saw you—and settle back at your ease and tell us all -about it,” said Rodney. “What do you mean when you say you are figuring -on making some money this trip? And if you are dead broke, where did you -get that blue suit? They don’t issue that style of clothes to the -foremast hands in the navy, do they? Or are you an officer?” - -“One at a time,” replied Jack. “One at a time, and your questions will -last a heap longer. I am a trader.” - -“O Jack,” exclaimed Rodney, who was all excitement in a moment. “Then -you are just the man we are looking for. Have you a permit?” - -“Well, I—you see—that is to say, no; I haven’t.” - -“Then you are not the man we want to see at all,” said Rodney in a -disappointed tone. “You can’t trade without it.” - -“I am painfully aware of the fact. And perhaps you wonder how I am going -to buy cotton when I am dead broke, don’t you? I have influential -friends; and thereby hangs a tale as long as a yardarm.” - -“Suppose you leave off bothering your cousin now and go home with us,” -suggested Mr. Gray, when he saw that Rodney was settling himself to -listen to a lengthy story. “We haven’t seen you at the house very often -of late, and you are almost as much of a stranger to your mother as you -would be if you lived in Vicksburg. We haven’t heard all Jack’s war -history yet, and perhaps he will give it to us to-night after supper.” - -Rodney was glad to agree to the proposition, and at his request Ned -Griffin was invited to make one of the party, for he was sure to be one -of the most interested listeners. In fact the Grays had come to look -upon Ned as one of the family. Jack’s story was not a long one, and you -ought to hear it, in order to know how he happened to “turn up” there in -Mooreville when, as Rodney said, no one dreamed of seeing him, and we -will tell it in our own way, leaving out a good deal of what Jack called -“sailor lingo.” - -The last time we saw Jack Gray was so long ago that you have perhaps -forgotten that we ever mentioned his name. Instead of following in the -footsteps of his father and becoming a planter, Jack had sailed the blue -water from his earliest boyhood, and was the elder brother of our Union -hero, Marcy Gray, who was taken from his home at dead of night by a -party of blue-jackets to serve as pilot on Captain Benton’s gunboat -during the fight at Roanoke Island. Jack was Union all over, and, even -when it was dangerous for him to do so, could hardly refrain from -expressing his contempt for those who were trying to break up the -government. When we first brought him to your notice he had already had -some thrilling experience with the enemies of the flag under which he -had sailed all over the world, his vessel, the brig _Sabine_, having -been one of the first to fall into the power of the Confederate cruiser -_Sumter_. - -If you have read “Marcy, the Blockade-Runner,” you will remember that -the _Sabine_ was under the command of men who did not intend to remain -prisoners a minute longer than they were obliged to; that the rebel -banner had no sooner been hoisted at the peak in the place of their own -flag, than they began laying plans to haul it down again, and that the -captured brig was in the hands of the prize crew not more than twelve -hours. Captain Semmes could not burn her as he would have been glad to -do, for it so happened that she had a neutral cargo on board. The sugar -and molasses with which her hold was filled were consigned to an English -port in the island of Jamaica, and if he had destroyed it by applying -the torch to the _Sabine_, the rebel commander would surely have brought -his government into trouble with England. That was something he could -not afford to do, so he determined to take his prize into the nearest -Cuban port, in the hope that the Spanish authorities would permit him to -land the cargo and sell the brig for the benefit of the Confederate -government. There is every reason to believe that he would have been -disappointed, for Spain was too friendly to the United States to give -aid and comfort to her enemies; but before the matter could be put to -the test the _Sabine’s_ men, with Jack Gray at their head, quietly -overpowered the rebel prize crew that had been put aboard of her and -filled away for Key West, which was the nearest Federal naval station. -When they arrived there they turned their five prisoners over to the -commandant and set sail for Boston, taking with them the valuable cargo -that ought to have gone to Jamaica. When off the coast of North Carolina -they had a short but rather exciting race with Captain Beardsley’s -privateer _Osprey_, on which Marcy Gray, Sailor Jack’s brother, was -serving as pilot; but the _Sabine_ was too swift to be overhauled, and -her skipper too wide-awake to be deceived by the sight of the friendly -flag which their pursuers gave to the breeze in the hope of alluring the -defenceless merchantman to her destruction. - -How the brig’s owners accounted for the cargo of molasses and sugar they -so unexpectedly found on their hands Jack Gray neither knew nor cared, -for his first and only thought was to reach home and see how his mother -and Marcy were getting on. In this the master of the _Sabine_ stood his -friend by securing for him a berth as second officer on board the fleet -schooner _West Wind_, which, while claiming to be an honest coaster, was -really engaged in a contraband trade that would have made her a lawful -prize to the first Federal blockader that happened to overhaul and -search her. Jack knew all about it and understood the risk he was -taking; but he accepted the position when it was offered, because he -could not see that there was any other way for him to get home. Although -the schooner’s cargo was consigned to a well-known American firm in -Havana, the owners did not mean that it should go there at all. They -intended that it should be run through the blockade and sold at Newbern. -Captain Frazier explained all this to Jack, and though the latter did -not believe in giving aid and comfort to the enemies of the Old Flag, he -not only accepted the position of second mate and pilot of the _West -Wind_, but also invested two-thirds of his hard-earned wages in quinine, -calomel, and other medicines of which the Confederacy stood much in -need, and sold them in Newbern so as to clear about twelve hundred -dollars. But it wasn’t money that Jack Gray cared for just then. He -wanted to see his mother and Marcy. - -The enterprise was successful. Captain Frazier ran down the coast -without falling in with any of the blockaders, Sailor Jack took the -schooner through Oregon Inlet without the least trouble, the -Confederates were ready to pay gold for her cargo, and then Captain -Frazier loaded with cotton for Bermuda, while his pilot, with one of the -_West Wind’s_ foremast hands for company, set out for home on foot. We -have told how he came like a thief in the night and aroused his brother -by tossing pebbles against his bedroom window, and what he did during -the short time he remained under his mother’s roof. We have also -described some of the exciting incidents that happened when Marcy took -him out to the blockading fleet in the _Fairy Belle_—how they ran foul -of Captain Beardsley’s schooner as they were passing through Crooked -Inlet, and were afterward hailed by a steam launch, whose commanding -officer would have given everything he possessed if he could have -brought that same schooner within range of his howitzer for about two -minutes—but they found one of the cruisers, the _Harriet Lane_, without -much trouble and Sailor Jack remained aboard of her, while Marcy filled -away for home. And we may add that the latter never heard from his -brother again until he read in the papers that his vessel had been -captured at Galveston. - -Bright and early the next morning, after a short interview with Captain -Wainwright, the commander of the _Harriet Lane_, Jack Gray was shipped -with due formality and rated as “seaman” on the books of the paymaster, -who ordered his steward to serve him two suits of clothes and the -necessary small stores. Ten minutes afterward, having rigged himself out -in blue and tossed his citizen’s suit through one of the ports into the -sea, Jack was working with the crew as handily as though he had been -attached to that particular vessel all his life. Of course he had never -been drilled with small-arms or in handling big guns; but being quick to -learn, his mates never had reason to call him a lubber, nor was he ever -sent to the mast for awkwardness or neglect of duty. - -The _Harriet Lane_ had been built for the revenue service, and was -considered to be the finest vessel in it. She was small, not more than -five hundred tons burden, but she was swift; and if a suspicious craft -appeared in the offing, the _Lane_, oftener than any other steamer, was -sent out to see who she was and what business she had there. -Consequently the life Jack led aboard of her was as full of excitement -and active duty as he could have wished it to be. Much to Marcy’s regret -she took no part in the fight at Roanoke Island. Not being intended for -so heavy work, she remained outside to watch for blockade runners, and -so Marcy never had a chance to see how his brother looked in a blue -uniform. - -Not long after that they were still farther separated. For weeks there -had been rumors that the government intended to make an effort to -recapture some of the ports on the Gulf of Mexico that had been seized -by the Confederates; but whether New Orleans, Galveston, or Mobile was -to be taken first, or whether the _Lane_ was to have a hand in it, -nobody knew. The last question was answered when all the vessels that -could be spared from the Atlantic blockading fleet, Jack’s among the -number, were ordered to report to Flag-officer Farragut at Ship Island -in the Gulf of Mexico. On the way they picked up a large fleet of mortar -schooners which had been ordered to rendezvous at Key West, and reached -their destination six weeks in advance of the army of General Butler, -which was to co-operate with them in the capture of New Orleans. But the -time was not passed in idleness. They ran down to the mouths of the -Mississippi, and worked a full month to get their vessels over the bar -into the river. They found but fifteen feet of water there, while many -of the fleet drew from three to seven feet more, so that, when they had -been lightened almost to the bare hull, the tugs had to pull them -through a foot or more of mud. It was tiresome and discouraging work, -but the same patience, determination, and skill that carried -Flag-officer Goldsborough safely through the gale at Hatteras enabled -Farragut to overcome the obstructions at the mouths of the Mississippi, -and on the 8th of April five powerful steam sloops, two large sailing -vessels, seventeen gunboats, and twenty-one mortar schooners were fairly -over the bar and ready for business. But three more weary weeks passed -before active operations were begun, during which Farragut and Butler -met at Ship Island and decided upon a plan of operations, and the river -up to the forts was carefully surveyed, so that the Union commanders, by -simply looking at the compasses in their binnacles, could tell how far -off and in what direction each fort and battery lay, and how they ought -to elevate and train their guns in order to reach them. Of course the -rebels were not idle while these surveys were being made, and protested -against them with every cannon they could bring to bear upon the boats -and men engaged in the work; but “in spite of all dangers and -difficulties the surveys were accomplished and maps prepared showing the -bearing and distance from every point on the river to the flagstaffs in -the forts.” - -On the morning of the 17th the rebels began the fight in earnest by -sending down a fire-raft that had been saturated with tar and -turpentine; but a boat which put off from the _Iroquois_ towed the raft -ashore, where it burned itself out, doing no harm to anybody. Then the -mortar schooners took a hand and pounded Fort Jackson with their -thirteen-inch shells until they set it on fire and destroyed all the -clothing and commissary stores it contained. Then the barrier which -extended straight across the river from Fort Jackson, and was formed of -dismantled vessels securely anchored and bound together with heavy -chains, was cut, and Farragut was ready to perform the feat that made -him famous the world over and placed him where he rightfully belonged—at -the head of our navy. He ran by the forts with the loss of but a single -vessel, the _Varuna_, which was the swiftest and weakest in the -squadron. Having been built for a merchantman she was not intended for -such work as Farragut put upon her, but she won the honors of the fight -before she went down, having helped sink or disable six of the rebel -fleet, any one of which was fairly her match. - -The _Lane_ took no part in this fight, but remained behind to guard -Porter’s mortar schooners, which dropped down the river as soon as -Farragut’s boats had passed the forts and closed with the Confederate -fleet which came gallantly down the river to meet them. - -“But our position was one of great danger, and we knew it,” said Sailor -Jack at this point in his narrative. “There were at least fifteen -vessels in the rebel fleet, two of which, the _Louisiana_ and -_Manassas_, the former mounting sixteen heavy guns, were the main -reliance of the enemy, and supposed to be able to deal with us as the -_Merrimac_ dealt with the _Cumberland_ in Hampton Roads. But we never -saw the _Louisiana_ until the thing was over, although we afterward -learned that she had been assigned an important position in the fight. -The other iron-clad was on hand, and began operations by shoving a -fire-raft against the flagship, which ran aground in trying to escape -from her. But instead of coming on down the river and destroying our -mortar fleet, as she could have done very easily, for such wooden boats -as the _Lane_ could not have stood against her five minutes, she rounded -to and went back after Farragut, who ordered the _Mississippi_ to sink -her. She didn’t succeed in doing that, but she riddled the _Manassas_ -with a couple of broadsides, set her on fire, and let her float down the -river with the current. I tell you I was frightened when I saw that -ugly-looking thing bearing down on us. We opened fire on her, and in a -few minutes she blew up and went down out of sight.” - -Shortly after this, Jack went on to relate, one of the most important -and impressive incidents of the seven days’ fight took place on board -the _Harriet Lane_. When Porter received a note from Flag-officer -Farragut stating that he had passed the forts in safety, destroying the -Confederate flotilla on the way, and was on the point of starting for -New Orleans, and suggesting that possibly the forts might surrender if -summoned to do so, Porter sent a boat ashore to see what the rebels -thought about it; and the answer was that they didn’t acknowledge that -they had been whipped yet. Although the forts had been battered out of -shape by the shower of heavy shells that had been rained into them, the -garrisons could still find shelter in the bomb-proofs, and if it was all -the same to Porter they would hold out a while longer. But the men who -had to fight the guns did not look at it that way. They were ready to -give up, for they knew they would have to do it sooner or later; and -when Porter began another bombardment, which he did without loss of -time, the men began deserting by scores, and the next day the rebel -commander hauled down his flag. - -“These battles were all won by the navy,” said Jack proudly, “and -everything on and along the river was destroyed by or surrendered to the -navy, for the soldiers didn’t come up till the trouble was all over. We -went up with our little fleet and anchored abreast of Fort Jackson. A -boat was sent ashore, and when it came back it brought General Duncan -and two or three other high-up rebel officers, who did not act at all -like badly beaten men, and they were received aboard the _Lane_ and -taken into the cabin, where the terms of capitulation were to be drawn -up and signed. They hadn’t been gone more than five minutes when some of -the crew happened to look up the river, and there was that big -iron-clad, the _Louisiana_, bearing down on us, a mass of flames. Then I -was frightened again, I tell you. Mounting, as she did, sixteen heavy -guns, she must have had all of twenty thousand pounds of powder in her -magazine, and what would become of us if she blew up in the midst of our -fleet? There wouldn’t be many of us left to tell the story. It was an -act of treachery on the part of the rebel naval officers which Farragut -was prompt to punish by sending them North as close prisoners, while the -army officers were given their freedom under parole.” - -“Did she do any damage when she blew up?” asked Rodney, who was deeply -interested in the story. - -“Not any to speak of,” replied Jack, “because the explosion took place -before she got among us. Of course word was sent below as soon as we -caught sight of her, and the order was promptly signalled to every -vessel in sight to play out her cable to the bitter end, and stand by to -sheer as wide as possible from the blazing iron-clad as she drifted -down; but we had hardly set to work to obey the order when there was a -wave in the air, which I felt as plainly as I ever felt a wave of water -pass over my head; the _Lane_ heeled over two streaks, everything loose -on deck was jostled about, and then there was a rumbling sound, not half -as loud as you would think it ought to be, and the danger was over. The -_Louisiana_ blew up before she got to us, and that was a lucky thing for -the _Harriet Lane_.” - -And Jack might have added that it was a lucky thing for the whole -country, for the commander, Porter, who was in the _Lane’s_ cabin with -the rebel officers, was afterward the fighting Admiral Porter, who -commanded the Mississippi squadron. His death at that crisis would have -been a national loss. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - SAILOR JACK IN ACTION. - -The city of New Orleans surrendered to Flag-officer Farragut, who held -it under his guns until General Butler came up with his soldiers to take -it off his hands; and then he kept on up the river with a portion of his -victorious fleet to effect a junction with the Mississippi squadron at -Vicksburg, while the remainder of his vessels, one of which was the -_Harriet Lane_, sailed away to hoist the flag of the Union over the port -of Galveston, and break up the blockade running that was going on there. -This force appeared before Galveston in May, but no earnest efforts were -made to compel a surrender until October; and even then no serious -attempt was made to take and hold the city. The commanding naval officer -was content to establish a close blockade of the port, and nothing could -have suited Jack Gray better. Galveston was a noted place for blockade -runners, and it was seldom indeed that one escaped when the _Lane_ -sighted and started in pursuit of her. Every capture meant prize money. - -“We made the most of the money that was made off that port last summer, -but of course we didn’t get it all ourselves,” explained Jack. "If you -are cruising by yourself and make a capture while another ship is within -signalling distance of you, the law says you must divide with that ship, -although she may not have done a thing to help you take the prize; but -if you belong to a squadron, every vessel in it has a share in every -prize you make. Fortunately for us there were but four ships in our -squadron off Galveston, and every time we took a prize somebody would -sing: - - “‘Here’s enough for four of us; - Thank Heaven there’s no more of us— - God save the king.’” - -Things went on in this satisfactory way until General Banks took command -at New Orleans in December, and sent a regiment to assist the naval -forces at Galveston, it being a part of his duty to “direct the military -movements against the rebellion in the State of Texas.” Not more than a -third of the regiment had arrived, the rest being on its way, when the -rebel general Magruder, who had just been appointed to the chief command -in Texas, formed a bold plan for the recapture of the city, and carried -it out successfully on New Year’s morning. He had six thousand men and -several cotton-clad vessels to help him, and of course the battle could -end in but one way. - -Galveston stands upon a long, narrow island in the bay, and is connected -with the mainland by a bridge two miles in length, built upon piles. -This bridge ought to have been destroyed, but it wasn’t, and when -Magruder charged across it with his six regiments, he confidently -expected to sweep away like so many cobwebs the little handful of -Federals standing at the other end; but he didn’t. Aided by a hot fire -from the _Harriet Lane_ and _Westfield_, they repulsed every charge he -made, and no doubt would have continued to do so if two of his best -vessels, the _Neptune_ and _Bayou City_, protected by cotton bales piled -twenty feet high upon their low decks, so that at a distance they looked -like common cotton transports, and manned by a regiment of -sharpshooters, had not hastened to his aid. - -“We had our own way with the troops on the bridge until those two boats -came dashing down at us, and then things began to look squally,” said -Jack. “We steamed up to meet them, but it wasn’t long before we wished -we hadn’t done it. We didn’t disable them with our bow-guns as we hoped -to do, and, indeed, it was as much as a man’s life was worth to handle -the guns at all, for the sharpshooters behind the cotton bales sent -their bullets over our deck like hailstones. One time I grabbed hold of -a train tackle with four other men to help run out the No. 2 gun, and -the next I knew I was standing there alone. The four had been shot dead, -but I wasn’t touched. All this while the rebel boats were coming at us -full speed, and the next thing I knew they struck us with terrible -force, bow on, one on each side. But,” added Jack, with a chuckle of -satisfaction, “one of them got hurt worse than we did. The _Neptune_ was -disabled by the shock, and grounded in shoal water; but the men on her -were game to the last. They fought to win and shot to kill; for, no -matter which way I looked, I saw somebody drop every minute.” - -“And what became of the other boat?” inquired Rodney. - -“The _Bayou City_? Oh, she drifted away, but rounded-to and came at us -again, hitting us pretty near in the same place; but the second time she -didn’t drift away. She made fast to and boarded us. When I saw those -graybacks swarming over the hammock nettings, and heard that Captain -Wainwright and most of the other officers had been killed, I knew I had -to do something or go to prison; so I just took a header overboard -through the nearest port and struck out for the _Westfield_, which was a -mile or so astern, and trying to come to our aid.” - -Jack was not quite correct when he said he “struck out,” after taking a -header through the port. He turned on his back and floated, for he was -afraid that if he showed any signs of life he would be discovered and -picked off by some sharpshooter. He permitted the current to whirl him -around now and then, so that he could keep his bearings and hold a -straight course for the _Westfield_, but before he had floated half a -mile, he discovered that he was making straight for as hot a place as -that from which he had just escaped. The flagship _Westfield_ had run -hard and fast aground within easy range of a battery which the rebels -had planted on the shore, and although two other gunboats came up and -tried to drag her into deep water, she was being literally cut to pieces -before Jack Gray’s eyes; and more than that, her commander was making -preparations to abandon her to her fate. - -“Then I began to look wild again, and took a sheer off to give the -flagship plenty of room to blow up in,” said Jack. “Captain Renshaw, her -commandant, was a regular, and I knew well enough that he would not -leave his vessel in such shape that the rebels could fix her up and use -her against us, though I was not prepared for what happened a few -minutes later. While I was moving along with the current, not daring to -swim lest I should attract the notice of some wide-awake sharpshooter, I -saw Renshaw send off his men by the boat-load until at last there were -but two boats left alongside the _Westfield_. One of these put off -loaded to the water’s edge, but the other remained, and I knew it was -waiting for Renshaw to fire the train he had laid to the magazine; and -that made me sheer off a little farther, although I began swimming the -best I knew how in the hope that one of the boats would wait for me to -catch on behind. In a minute or two more Captain Renshaw came out, and -that was the first and last I ever saw of him. He stepped into his boat, -but before it had moved twenty feet away the flagship blew up, smashing -the two small boats into kindling-wood and sending every man in them to -kingdom come.” - -No one else who was as close to the _Westfield_ as Jack Gray was at that -moment escaped with his life, and he did not come off unscathed. While -he was gazing around him in a dazed sort of way, gasping for breath and -utterly unable to realize what had happened, a piece of the -_Westfield’s_ wreck which had been blown high in air descended with -frightful velocity, and barely missing his head struck him a glancing -blow on the shoulder and shot down into the water out of sight. And it -was but one of a score of such dangerous missiles which rained upon him -during the next few seconds. They plunged into the water perilously near -to him and splashed it in his face from all directions. The most of them -were no bigger than the head they threatened to break, while others were -as large as a barn door. At first Jack thought the safest place would be -nearer the bottom of the river; but when he saw how some of the heaviest -pieces of the wreck dove out of sight when they struck the water, he -decided that he could not go deep enough to escape them, and that the -best plan would be to look upward and try to dodge them when he saw that -they were coming too close; but by the time he came to this conclusion -and turned upon his back, the storm was over and the air above him was -clear. It was the narrowest escape he had ever had, and Jack Gray had -been in some tight places. - -Having satisfied himself that he was no longer in danger of being -knocked senseless by falling wreckage, Jack turned upon his face and -struck out for the nearest gunboat, or rather tried to; for his right -arm was almost useless. He could thrust it through the water in front of -him, but when he endeavored to swim with it, it dropped to his side like -a piece of lead. - -“And that’s the way it felt for three or four days, although I was under -good care all the time,” continued Jack. “I was picked up after I had -floated and swum with one hand a distance of three miles, reported the -loss of my vessel, and told what little I knew about the blowing up of -the _Westfield_, and then I was glad to go into the hands of the doctor, -for I found that I was worse hurt than I thought I was. But you may be -sure I didn’t say so. If there is anything that is despised aboard ship -it is a sojer, which is the name we give to men who can work and won’t, -and so I kept on doing duty when I ought by rights to have been in my -hammock. I pulled twenty miles on the night of the 11th of January to -escape capture, and of course the exertion gave me a big set-back; but I -haven’t got to that part of my story yet.” - -Jack Gray watched and waited anxiously to hear from some of his -shipmates, but not a word did he get from anybody; and this led him to -believe that he was the only one of the _Harriet Lane’s_ crew who -escaped death or capture. The direct results of the fight were that the -rebels, with very small loss to themselves, captured the _Lane_, caused -the destruction of the flagship of the squadron, secured possession of -two coal barges that were lying at the wharf and nearly four hundred -prisoners; but “the indirect results were still more important.” The -whole State of Texas came back under their flag, and blockade running -went on as though it had never been interfered with at all. It was done -principally by small schooners like Captain Beardsley’s _Hattie_, which -took out cotton and brought back medicines, guns, ammunition, and cloth -that was afterward made into uniforms for the Confederate soldiers. And -the worst of it was that it was kept up to the end of the war. Of course -word was sent to New Orleans at once, and Commodore Bell came down with -a small fleet to shut up the port; but he brought no soldiers with him -to hold the city, for General Banks couldn’t spare a single regiment. He -had made up his mind to capture Port Hudson, and needed all the men he -could get. - -Among the vessels that came down with Commodore Bell was the _Hatteras_, -the slowest old tub in the fleet, and much to his disgust Jack Gray was -ordered aboard of her. The badge he wore on his arm showed that he had -been a quartermaster on board the _Lane_, but he was transferred without -any rating at all, it being optional with Captain Blake, the commander -of the _Hatteras_, whether he would continue him as a quartermaster or -put him before the mast. Jack had already served four months beyond the -year for which he enlisted, but he made no complaint, although he had -firmly resisted all efforts on the part of the _Lane’s_ officers to -induce him to re-enlist for three years or during the war. - -“I might have had a commission as well as not,” said Jack, “for there -wasn’t a watch officer aboard the _Lane_ who could have passed a better -examination than I could. Indeed, I hadn’t been aboard of her -twenty-four hours before I found that I knew more about a ship than most -of the men who commanded me. But as often as I thought of staying in the -service, something told me I had better get out; and that was the reason -why I refused to re-enlist or accept a commission.” - -The fact was that, so long as the speedy _Lane_ was capturing a valuable -blockade runner or two every week, and money was coming into his pockets -faster than he could have earned it in any other business, Jack Gray was -quite willing to remain a quartermaster, and so he said nothing to -Captain Wainwright concerning the honorable discharge that rightfully -belonged to him; but now the case was different, and Jack wanted to go -home and see how his mother and Marcy were getting on. He had been -ordered aboard a vessel that couldn’t catch a mud-turtle in a stern -chase, and consequently there was no more excitement or prize money for -him. The paymaster who ought to have paid him off and given him his -discharge had been captured with all his money and books, and Jack knew -that his accounts would have to be settled in Washington; and there was -so much red tape in Washington that there was no telling whether or not -they would ever be settled. After thinking the matter over, Jack wrote a -letter to Commodore Bell, telling him how the matter stood and asking -for his discharge, and gave it into the hands of the captain of the -_Hatteras_ to be forwarded. The first result was about what he thought -it would be. He had to pull off his petty officer’s badge and go before -the mast. He was also assigned to an oar in the first cutter, and that -was one of the best things that ever happened to Jack Gray. - -Nowhere else in the world is life such a burden as aboard a vessel lying -on a station with nothing but routine work to do. Jack found it so and -chafed and fretted under it, but not for long. One day, about an hour -after the dinner pennant had been hauled down, the lounging, lazy crew -of the _Hatteras_ were startled by the cry of “Sail ho!” from the -lookout. Signal was at once made to the _Brooklyn_, Commodore Bell’s -flagship, and the answer that came back was an order for the _Hatteras_ -to run out and see who and what the visitor was. Of course the crew were -glad to be afloat once more, and some of them began talking about prize -money; but others declared that if the stranger had any speed at all and -desired to keep out of the way, the _Hatteras_ would never get nearer to -her than she was at that moment. But the sequel proved that the stranger -did not want to keep out of the way, although at first she acted like -it. She rounded to and turned her head out to sea as if she were fleeing -from pursuit; but all the while the war ship came nearer and nearer to -her, until the officer at the masthead made out that the chase was a -large steamer under sail. This fact was duly communicated to the -flagship by signal, and then the old _Hatteras_ seemed to wake up and -try to show a little speed; but Captain Blake became suspicious and -ordered his ship cleared for action, with everything in readiness for a -determined attack or a vigorous defense. - -The pursuit continued for twenty miles, and finally night set in with no -moon but plenty of starlight. Jack Gray, who had stood at one of the -broadside guns until he was tired, had just given utterance to the hope -that the chase would improve the opportunity to run out of sight or else -come about and give them battle, just as she pleased, when an officer at -the masthead sent down the startling information that the stranger had -rounded-to and was coming back. Beyond a doubt that meant that something -was going to happen. She hove in sight almost immediately, and in less -time than it takes to tell it stopped her engines within a hundred -yards, the captain of the blockader ringing his stopping bell at the -same instant. - -“What ship is that?” shouted the Union commander, from his place on the -bridge. - -“Her Britannic Majesty’s steamer _Vixen_!” was the reply. “What ship is -that?” - -“This is the United States ship _Hatteras_,” answered Captain Blake. “I -will send a boat aboard of you.” - -“When we heard this conversation,” said Jack, “we made up our minds that -we had been chasing an English ship. Mind you, I don’t say a friendly -ship, for England never was and never will be friendly to the United -States. She would be glad to see us broken up to-morrow, and is doing -all she dares to help the rebels along. Of course it was our captain’s -duty to find out whether or not the other captain had told him the -truth, and the only way he could do it was by sending an officer off to -examine his papers. He had the first cutter called away, and, as that -was the boat to which I belonged, I lost no time in taking off my -side-arms and tumbling into her. And that was all that saved me from -falling into Semmes’ power a second time.” - -Jack then went on to say that, as soon as the officer had taken his -place in the stern-sheets, the cutter was shoved off from the _Hatteras_ -and pulled around her stern; but just as she began swinging around with -her bow toward the supposed English ship a most exciting and unexpected -thing happened. A voice came from the latter’s deck, so clear and strong -that the cutter’s crew could hear every word: - -“This is the Confederate steamer _Alabama_!” And before the astonished -blue-jackets had time to realize that they had been trapped the roar of -a broadside rent the air, and shells and solid shot went crashing into -the wooden walls of the doomed _Hatteras_. Semmes afterward took great -credit to himself because he did not strike the Federal ship in -disguise, but gave her “fair warning.” How long was it after he gave -warning that he fired his broadside into her? Not two seconds. He took -all the advantage he could, and yet there was no one who protested -louder or had more to say about trickery and cowardice when the Federal -officers took advantage of him. He made a great fuss because Captain -Winslow protected the machinery and boilers of the _Kearsarge_ with -chains, as Admiral Farragut protected _his_ vessels when he ran past the -forts at New Orleans. - -The roar of the Confederate steamer’s guns had scarcely ceased before an -answering broadside came from the Union war ship. Without the loss of a -moment both vessels were put under steam and the action became a running -fight, the blue-jackets standing bravely to their guns and giving their -powerful antagonist as good as she sent. The cutter’s crew tried in vain -to return to their vessel. They rowed hard, but every turn of her huge -paddle-wheels left them farther behind, and finally they gave up in -despair and laid on their oars and watched the conflict. It was -desperate but short. In just thirteen minutes from the time it began the -_Hatteras_ hoisted a white light at her masthead and fired an off-gun to -show that she had been beaten. - -“Fortune of war,” sighed the officer who was sitting in the cutter’s -stern-sheets beside the coxswain. “But I tell you, men, I hate to see -our old ship surrendered to that pirate. Back, port; give way, -starboard! We haven’t surrendered, and we want to get away from here -before they catch sight of us.” - -No cutter’s crew ever pulled harder than Jack Gray and his shipmates -pulled in obedience to this order. Jack forgot that he had a crippled -arm, and when the cutter came about and pointed her head toward the -shore more than twenty miles away, he rowed as strong an oar as he ever -did in his life. He listened anxiously for the hail that would tell him -the cutter had been discovered, but heard none; but he saw and reported -something that sent an exultant thrill through the heart of every one of -his companions. - -“Mr. Porter,” said he, in tones which intense excitement rendered husky. -“Our old tub has been surrendered, but she’ll never do the rebels any -good. She’s sinking, sir.” - -“Thank Heaven!” murmured the officer, whirling around as if he had been -shot. - -He couldn’t see anything through the darkness except the white light -that the blockader had hoisted at her masthead in token of surrender, -and which was swaying about in a way that would have been unaccountable -to a landsman; but the blue-jackets knew she was going to the bottom. -She went rapidly, too, for Captain Blake afterward reported that in two -minutes from the time he left her the _Hatteras_ disappeared, bow first. -Then Jack thought that Mr. Porter would order the cutter back to assist -in picking up the crew, but he didn’t do it. They would have reached the -sinking vessel too late to be of any service, and besides Mr. Porter -thought it his duty to report to the Flag-officer at once, believing -that if the _Brooklyn_ were promptly warned she could capture or sink -the _Alabama_ before she had time to get very far away. But the fleet -had already been warned by the sound of the guns that the _Hatteras_ had -encountered an armed enemy of some description, and several steamers -were hastening to the rescue; scattering widely in the pursuit, to cover -as much space as possible and increase their chances of falling in with -the enemy. The cutter passed these vessels at so great a distance that -she could not attract the attention of any of them, and it was not until -they had pulled all the way to Galveston, and boarded one of the -blockading fleet which remained behind, that the particulars of the -fight became known. None of the pursuing steamers ever saw the -_Alabama_, which sailed away for the coast of Yucatan; but as one of -them was returning to her anchorage the next morning, baffled and beaten -in the chase, she fell in with the sunken _Hatteras_, whose royal masts -were just above water. The night pennant floating from one of them told -the melancholy story; but if Jack Gray and his shipmates had not escaped -just as they did, it might have been a long time before Commodore Bell -would have known that the dreaded _Alabama_ had been in his immediate -vicinity. But her day was coming. The first time she met a Union war -ship that was anywhere near her match she was sent to the bottom. - -Once more Jack was without a vessel, and had no clothes “to bless -himself with” except those he stood in; but that didn’t trouble him half -as much as did the discharge he was anxious to get. He and the rest of -the cutter’s men were sent aboard the flagship when she returned to her -anchorage, and that suited him, for it gave him a fair chance to gain -the commodore’s ear—a task he set himself to accomplish as soon as the -excitement had somewhat died away. But the Flag-officer was a regular, -and like all regulars he moved in ruts of opinion so deep that a yoke of -oxen could not have pulled him out. He couldn’t give Jack a discharge, -he said, because he didn’t know when or where he enlisted, for how long, -or anything about it. He couldn’t give him any money, either, for his -name was not borne on the paymaster’s books. He could give him a paper -stating that he had done service in the Union navy and let him go home, -and that was all he could do for him. - -“And that’s the kind of a discharge I got,” said Jack with a laugh. “But -it proved to be good enough and strong enough to take me through the -provost guards in New Orleans and get me a pass to come up here. I have -not drawn a cent from Uncle Sam, so he owes me a year’s wages and -better, as well as a lot of prize money. The commodore dispatched a -vessel to New Orleans with his report of the loss of the _Hatteras_, and -I was permitted to take passage on her.” - -“How did you feel when you found yourself in a strange city with no -money in your pocket and no friends to go to?” inquired Ned Griffin. - -“I didn’t think much about it, because I never let a little thing like -that worry me,” said Jack with another laugh. “I did not by any means -intend to go hungry, or sleep on the Levee, if my pockets were empty. -There were several of our vessels in the river, and I knew I could ship -whenever I felt like it; but I had made up my mind that I would not go -afloat again until I had said ‘hello!’ to my relatives up here in -Mooreville.” - -The first boat that left the dispatch steamer took Jack ashore and -landed him on the Levee among some river craft that belonged to the -quartermaster’s department of Banks’ army. Being a deep-water man he did -not bestow more than a passing glance upon them, but turned his face -toward the docks above at which a large fleet of sea-going vessels was -moored; and as he walked he kept a bright lookout for two things—a -sailorman who could tell him what had happened in the world since he -left it (being on the blockade Jack thought was almost as bad as being -out of the world), and a soldier who could direct him to the office of -the provost marshal. As he stepped from the Levee to the nearest dock -his gaze became riveted upon a rakish looking fore-and-aft schooner that -lay there discharging a miscellaneous cargo. She looked familiar to him. -She was painted white with a green stripe at her water-line, and bore -the name “_Hyperion_, Portland,” on her stern; but Jack Gray was -positive that he had known and sailed on her when she was painted black -with a red stripe at the water-line, and went by a very different name. -He dodged up the after gang-plank to the deck and took another look. He -had had charge of that deck more than once. Everything on and about it -was familiar to him, not excepting the face of the lank Yankee skipper, -whose head and shoulders at that moment emerged from the companion-way. -Jack turned about and approached him with a comical smile on his -countenance. - -“Want a pilot this trip, Captain Frazier?” said he. - -“No, I don’t,” was the surly reply. He looked searchingly into Jack’s -face, but could not remember that he had ever seen him before. - -“No offence, I hope,” continued the latter. “But I served you so well -before that I think you might give me a lift when you see me stranded -here without a shot in the locker. I took the _West Wind_ through Oregon -Inlet when——” - -“Mr. Gray—Jack!” said the captain, in an excited whisper. “Sh! Not -another word out of you; not a whimper. Come below with me.” - -Shaking all over with suppressed merriment Jack Gray followed the -skipper down the stairs and into the cabin, the door of which was -quickly but softly closed and locked. - -“Sit down,” continued the captain. “And if you care a cent for me don’t -speak above your breath. Where have you been? That uniform says you -belong to the navy.” - -“I did, but I don’t belong now,” replied Jack. “Shortly after I made -that trip with you I shipped for a year, but have been kept over my -time. I have been on the blockade, and have helped capture many a fine -craft like this one.” - -“Sh! Don’t speak so loud,” whispered Captain Frazier, for it was he. -“But you couldn’t do harm to this craft now, for she is engaged in -honest business.” - -“No private ventures stowed away among her cargo?” said Jack. - -“Nary venture. There’s no need of it, for I make money hand over fist in -an honest way. I am a cotton trader. Got a permit and everything all -square. And cotton will be worth a dollar a pound by the time I get back -to New York.” - -“What do you pay for it here?” - -“That depends on the man I am dealing with. If he is a Union man I give -him from seven to ten cents in greenbacks, which will buy eighty per -cent. more stuff than Confederate scrip. If he is a good rebel, or if he -is surrounded by rebel neighbors who are keeping an eye on his -movements, I give him ten cents in rebel money.” - -“Where do you get rebel money?” asked Jack. - -“Anywhere—everywhere. I can get all I want for thirty cents on a dollar, -and have bought some as low as twenty. It will be lower than that in -less than a month. But, mind you, no one around here knows that I have -been a blockade runner. And I am not at the head of this business. My -Boston owners are doing it all and I am simply their agent. But are you -really aground?” - -“I never told a straighter story in my life,” answered Jack, who went on -to describe how he happened to be in that condition. When his hasty -narrative was finished Captain Frazier said: - -“There’s always room aboard my schooner for such a sailorman as I know -you to be, and if you want to sign with me as my chief officer I shall -be glad to have you. And you must let me advance you money enough to -provide for your immediate wants.” - -When Jack reached this part of his story Rodney knew where that blue -suit came from. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - BAD NEWS FROM MARCY. - -Sailor Jack and his old commander spent two hours locked in the -_Hyperion’s_ cabin, and if a stranger could have seen how very cordial -and friendly they were, or had heard the peals of laughter that arose -when one or the other described some amusing scene through which he had -passed since they last met, he never would have dreamed that one had -risked life and liberty in doing what he could to put down the -rebellion, while the other had run an equal risk in bringing aid and -comfort to it. - -Captain Frazier had been a daring and successful blockade runner as long -as his Boston owners could make money by it, and there were not many -cruisers on the Atlantic coast that had not, at one time or another, -sighted and given chase to the fleet _West Wind_, nor were there very -many officers and sailormen who could not recognize her as far as they -could see her. When light swift steamers were added to the blockading -fleet the business became too uncertain and dangerous to be longer -followed, and Captain Frazier was honest enough to say that he was glad -to stop it, for, being a Yankee, he had never had any heart for it any -way. - -When the Mississippi was cleared as far as Port Hudson, and all that -immense cotton country on both sides the river was thrown open to -traffic, Captain Frazier’s owners saw an opportunity to do business in -an honest way and were prompt to improve it. Armed with a pocketful of -credentials one of the firm hastened to New Orleans to obtain a permit -to trade in cotton, and the _West Wind_ was ordered to a neutral port -“for repairs.” When she again appeared on the high seas she did not look -at all like herself, and even her name had been changed. She went to -Portland, Me., and stayed there long enough to get a charter, and then -sailed to Boston and loaded up with commissary stores for Banks’ army. -On the way down she was boarded by more than one officer who had chased -her when she was a blockade runner, and now she was in New Orleans -(safe, too, although surrounded by Federal war ships) and making ready -to take a cargo of cotton to New York. - -“I grew ten years older during the twelve months I was engaged in -running the blockade,” said Captain Frazier, in concluding his story, -“but I had lots of fun and saw no end of excitement. And now to come -back to business. Didn’t I hear you say, while you were serving as pilot -and second mate of the _West Wind_, that you have relatives here in -Louisiana and that they raise cotton? I thought so. Well, now, have they -got any that they want to sell?” - -“I don’t know; but I can find out. I did not intend to leave this -country without seeing them. How far is Baton Rouge above here?” - -“Not far; a hundred and fifty miles, I should say.” - -“Well, if I can get there and obtain a pass that will take me through -the lines as far as Mooreville, I can easily find them.” - -“You can get there, and I’ll see that you have a bushel of passes if you -need them. If they’ve got any cotton I want it.” - -“You can’t have it, captain, for any such price as you have been paying -others. I’ll not stand by and see my uncle gouged in any such way as -that. And I shall hold out for greenbacks, too.” - -“Certainly; of course. That’s all right; but as for the price, I guess -you will take what I please to——” - -Captain Frazier stopped and looked hard at Jack, who gazed fixedly at -him in return. Each knew what the other was thinking of. - -“I don’t know that my uncle Rodney has any cotton,” continued Jack. “But -if he has, you can afford to give him at least twenty-five cents a -pound, greenback money, for it. He is bound to lose his niggers, and, if -he is robbed of his cotton, what will he have to start on when the war -is over?” - -“Judging by the way you look out for the pennies you’re as much of a -Yankee as I am,” said Captain Frazier with a laugh. “You’ll swamp my -owners at this rate; but seeing it’s you, I suppose I shall have to -submit to be robbed myself. Now listen while I tell you something. -General Banks came here on purpose to take Port Hudson, Grant is coming -down to capture Vicksburg, and when the Mississippi is open from Memphis -to the sea there’ll be a fortune for the first man who is lucky enough -to get a permit to trade in cotton on the river. My agent, who has an -office ashore and to whom I will introduce you this afternoon, has heard -enough to satisfy him that there are half a million bales concealed in -the woods and swamps along the river, and that the owners, both Union -and rebel, are eager to sell before the Confederate government has a -chance to destroy it; and they would rather sell it for a small sum in -good money than for ten times the amount in such money as they grind out -at Richmond. Now, my idea is to charter a river steamer—a light-draught -one—so that she can run up any small tributary, and put a man with a -business head on board of her with instructions to buy every pound of -cotton he can hear of between this port and Memphis. How would you like -the berth?” - -“That depends on whether or not I can be of any service to my uncle and -his friends,” replied Jack. “What is there in it?” - -“A big commission or a salary, just as you please.” - -The matter wasn’t settled either one way or the other at this interview. -Jack took dinner with Captain Frazier and went ashore with him in the -afternoon to be introduced to the “agent,” who wasn’t an agent at all, -but the head of a branch house which the enterprising Boston firm had -established in New Orleans. He might properly have been called a cotton -factor. When the captain told him who and what Jack was, and what he had -done to make the firm’s first venture in contraband goods successful, -adding that he was going up to Baton Rouge to see whether or not there -was any cotton to be had at or near that place, the agent became -interested, and promised to assist Jack by every means in his power. - -“I didn’t see how a civilian could help me along with the military -authorities,” said Jack, in concluding his interesting narrative, “but I -wasn’t long in finding out. The agent, as I shall always speak of him, -gave me a letter to the provost marshal in New Orleans and another to -the officer holding the same position in Baton Rouge, and those letters -made things smooth for me. I supposed, of course, that I should have to -foot it from the city to Mooreville, but the marshal kindly furnished me -with a horse to ride, the only condition imposed being that I should -send it back the first good chance I got. Captain Frazier advanced me -money to buy a citizen’s outfit and pay travelling expenses, and here I -am.” - -“And right glad I am to see you,” said Rodney, as Jack settled back in -his chair with an air which seemed to say that he had finished his story -at last. “But you are a slick one.” - -“No more so than some other folks,” retorted Jack. “It’s a wonder you -have not brought yourself into serious trouble by your smuggling and -giving aid to escaped prisoners.” - -“But, Jack, I assure you that we were in sore need of the things I have -smuggled through the lines,” said Rodney earnestly. “We couldn’t -possibly get along without them.” - -“And neither can I get along without making this war refund to my mother -every dollar she is likely to lose by it,” answered his cousin. “The -whole South is going to be impoverished before this thing is over. My -folks had no hand in bringing these troubles upon us, and I don’t mean -that they shall suffer through the folly of a few fanatics, if I can -help it.” - -“But, Jack, you will take up with the agent’s offer and put a trading -boat on the river, will you not?” said Rodney. - -“Port Hudson and Vicksburg have not been captured yet,” suggested Mrs. -Gray. - -“No, but they’re going to be,” said Jack confidently. “And until that -happens I might better be at home than anywhere else, for I can’t do -anything here. If I find that mother and Marcy are getting on all right, -you have my promise that I will return and do my best to get your four -hundred bales to market.” - -“Bully for you,” exclaimed Rodney joyfully. “You _are_ just the man we -wanted to see after all. I wish you could take the cotton to-night, -don’t you, father?” - -“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I will speak to the agent and Captain -Frazier about it, and see if I can induce them to send a boat after your -cotton, so that the _Hyperion_ can take it out on her next trip. I might -have made some such arrangement before I left New Orleans, but I didn’t -know whether or not you had any cotton. What’s become of those -bushwhackers of whom Uncle Rodney has given me an interesting account?” - -“Do you mean Lambert and his men? I suppose they are still hiding in the -swamp.” - -“Protecting your cotton?” added Jack. “Well, they’ll have to be -‘neutralized,’ as McClellan said of the _Merrimac_. As I understand it, -those bushwhackers don’t mean that you or anybody else shall touch that -cotton unless they can make something by it. It’s a little the queerest -thing I ever heard of, but so far they seem to have been your best -friends.” - -“I have been studying about that a good deal,” answered Rodney. “And the -conclusion I have come to is that when we get ready to take charge of -our property, and not before, we’ll have to get rid of Lambert in some -manner. He is the leader, and if he were out of the way I think his men -would scatter. I’ll make a prisoner of him if father will consent.” - -“O Rodney, you must not attempt it,” exclaimed his mother. “Lambert has -the reputation of being a dangerous man.” - -“I don’t know where or how he came by that reputation,” said the boy -with a smile. “I know he is treacherous, and if I should make the -attempt and fail, I should have to look out for him. He’d as soon -bushwhack me as anybody else. But I don’t intend to fail.” - -Sailor Jack’s time was so short, and there were so many other things to -be talked about, that this matter was presently dropped, to be taken up -again and settled at some future day. When Jack started for Baton Rouge -the next morning, with his uncle and cousin for company, the only -conclusion they had been able to reach was that Mr. Gray should hold -fast to his cotton, if he could, until he heard from Jack, who would -forward his letter under cover to the provost marshal in Baton Rouge so -that it would be sure to reach its destination. If it were sent to the -care of Rodney’s Confederate friend, Mr. Martin, the Federal authorities -might not take the trouble to deliver it. - -The next step was to obtain the provost marshal’s consent to the -arrangement, and that was easily done. He knew that Jack had risked his -life for the Union, and that his cousin lent a helping hand to escaped -prisoners as often as the opportunity was presented; so he readily -promised to take charge of all the letters that came from the North -addressed to Rodney Gray, and hand them over without reading them. He -gave Jack a pass authorizing him to leave the city on business, and a -note to the quartermaster which brought him a permit to take passage for -New Orleans on one of the steamers attached to the quartermaster’s -department. Rodney and his father saw him off and then turned their -faces toward the hospitable home of Mr. Martin, where they were to -remain until morning. - -“It was just no visit at all,” said Rodney in a discouraged tone. “When -Jack said he was a trader and that he had influential friends, I -wouldn’t have taken anything I can think of now for our chances of -getting that cotton off our hands. As the matter stands, everything -depends on ‘ifs.’ _If_ Marcy and his mother are getting on all right, -and _if_ Jack decides to come back and take up with Captain Frazier’s -offer, we shall have a show; otherwise not.” - -This state of affairs was galling to Rodney Gray, who could not bear to -be kept in suspense; but exciting events were transpiring up the river -every day, and in trying to keep track of them Rodney lost sight of his -troubles for a brief season. General Grant, who had taken command of the -army that was operating against Vicksburg, had gone to work as if he -were thoroughly in earnest, and there wasn’t a soldier under him who was -more anxious for his complete triumph than was this ex-Confederate hero -of ours. Rodney was soldier enough to know that neither Vicksburg nor -Port Hudson could be taken by assault, and that they could not be -starved into surrender so long as supplies of every sort could be run -into them from the Red River country. They must be surrounded on the -river side as well as on the land side, and Rodney was impatient to -learn what General Grant was going to do about it. Fortunately the -latter had an able assistant in David D. Porter, who had commanded -Farragut’s mortar schooners at New Orleans. He was now an acting rear -admiral and commanded the Mississippi squadron, and most loyally did he -second General Grant in his efforts to capture the rebel stronghold. - -The very first move Porter made excited Rodney’s unbounded admiration -and made his heart beat high with hope. He ordered the ram _Queen of the -West_ to run the batteries and destroy the transports that were engaged -in bringing supplies to Vicksburg. Owing to some trouble with her -steering gear it was broad daylight when the ram started on her -dangerous mission, and she was a fair target for the hundred heavy guns -which the rebels had mounted on the bluffs. But she went through, -stopping on the way long enough to make a desperate attempt to sink the -steamer _Vicksburg_, which the rebels, after General Sherman’s defeat at -Chickasaw Bayou, had brought down from the Yazoo to be made into a -gunboat. She failed in that, but ran by the batteries without receiving -much injury, and began operations by capturing a steamer which she kept -with her as tender, and burning three others that were loaded with -provisions. - -“If she keeps that up Vicksburg is a goner,” said Rodney to his friend -Ned Griffin. - -“One would think you are glad of it,” said the latter. “That’s a pretty -way for a rebel soldier to talk.” - -“Rebel soldier no longer,” replied Rodney. “I know when I have had -enough. I’m whipped, and now I want the war to end. It’s bound to come -some of these days, and I wish it might come this minute.” - -But unfortunately the _Queen_ did not “keep it up” as Rodney hoped she -would. As long as her commander obeyed orders and devoted his attention -to transports, he was successful; but when he got it into his head that -he could whip a fort with his single wooden vessel, he ruined himself -just as Semmes did when he thought he could beat a war ship in a fair -fight, because he had sunk one weak blockader and burned sixty-five -defenceless merchantmen. Colonel Ellet, who commanded the _Queen_, ran -up Red River, where he captured the _New Era_ with a squad of Texas -soldiers, twenty-eight thousand dollars in Confederate money, and five -thousand bushels of corn; and flushed with victory ran up twenty miles -farther to the fort—and lost his vessel. He escaped with a few of his -men, but the ram fell into the hands of the enemy, who repaired her in -time to assist the _Webb_ in sinking the _Indianola_—a fine new -iron-clad that had run the Vicksburg batteries without receiving a -scratch. Then all the rebels in Rodney’s vicinity were jubilant, and -Rodney himself was correspondingly depressed. On the day the unwelcome -news came Lambert rode into the yard on his way home from Mooreville. He -wasn’t afraid to go there now that there was no conscript officer to -trouble him. - -“I heered about it,” he said, in answer to an inquiry from the anxious -Rodney. “We allow to raise that there fine iron-clad, an’ show the Yanks -what sort of fighting she can do when she’s in the hands of men. That’ll -make three good ships we’ll have, an’ with them we can easy clean out -the Yankee fleet at Vicksburg.” - -That was just what Rodney knew the rebels would try to do, and their -exploit with the _Arkansas_ proved that they were at all times ready to -take desperate chances. Lambert never would have thought of such a thing -himself, so he must have been talking with someone who was pretty well -informed. - -“What do you mean by _we_?” asked Rodney. - -“I heered Tom Randolph an’ others among ’em discussin’ the projec’ down -to the store,” replied Lambert. - -“Tom Randolph! He’s a pretty fellow to talk of cleaning anybody out.” - -“That’s what I thought. He never had no pluck ’ceptin’ on the day he -drawed his sword on me. An’ he never would ’a’ done it if his maw hadn’t -been right there to his elbow. I aint likely to disremember him for -that.” - -“But you took an ample revenge by burning his father’s cotton, did you -not? Lambert, that was a cowardly thing for you to do.” - -Rodney’s tone was so positive that the ex-Home Guard did not attempt to -deny the accusation. “Who’s been a-carryin’ tales on me?” he demanded. -“I want you to understand that nobody can’t draw a sword on me an’ shake -it in my face too, like Tom Randolph done. I just dropped in to see if -you could let me have a side of bacon this evenin’.” - -Without making any reply Rodney arose from his chair and led the way -toward the smoke-house. While he was taking down the bacon Lambert kept -up an incessant talking to prevent him from saying more about Mr. -Randolph’s cotton, and when Rodney handed the meat out of the door he -wheeled his mule and rode quickly away; but he had said enough to make -the boy very uneasy. How long would it be before he would avenge some -fancied insult by touching a match to Mr. Gray’s cotton? - -During the next few days Rodney did not do much overseer’s work on his -plantation, and neither did Ned Griffin. To quote from the latter they -became first-class all-around loafers; and so anxious were they to miss -no item of news which might have come down from Vicksburg that they -visited every man in the neighborhood who was known to have made a -recent trip to Baton Rouge or have a late paper in his possession, and -the information they picked up during their rides was far from -encouraging. There was a heavy force of men at work upon the sunken -iron-clad, as well as upon the _Webb_, which had been seriously injured -during her fight with the _Indianola_, and when the latter was raised -and the other fully repaired, the control of the river below Vicksburg -would be fairly within the grasp of the Confederates. If Porter sent a -few more boats below the batteries to be captured, the rebels would soon -have a powerful and almost irresistible fleet; but in this hope they -were destined to be disappointed, as they had been in many others. - -It so happened that the next boat to pass under the iron hail of -Vicksburg’s guns was very different from the _Indianola_. The papers -described her as a “turreted monster—the most formidable thing in the -shape of an iron-clad that had ever been seen in the Western waters.” It -was just daylight when the Confederate gunners discovered her moving -slowly down with the current, and the fire that was poured upon her by -almost eighteen miles of batteries ought, by rights, to have sunk -anything in the form of a gunboat that ever floated; but the monster, -with the heavy black smoke rolling from her chimneys, passed safely on -through the whole of it without firing a single gun in reply, and -disappeared from view. Then there was excitement in Vicksburg and in -Richmond too, for the news went to the capital as quickly as the -telegraph could take it. The _Queen of the West_, which now floated the -Confederate flag and had come up to Warrenton to see how her friends -were getting on, turned and took to her heels, and orders were sent down -the river to have the _Indianola_ blown up without delay, so that she -might not be recaptured by this new enemy. The order was obeyed, and the -powerful iron-clad which might have given a better account of herself in -rebel hands than she did while in possession of her lawful owners, was -once more sent to the bottom. - -Meanwhile the turreted monster held silently on her way, moving as -rapidly as a five-mile current could take her, and at last grounded on a -sand-bar. Not till then did the rebels awake to the fact that they had -been deceived. When they found courage enough to go aboard of her they -saw, to their amazement and chagrin, that she was not a gunboat at all, -but a coal-barge that had been fitted up to represent one. She had been -set afloat for the purpose of bringing out the whole fire of the -batteries, so that Admiral Porter and General Grant, who had decided to -effect a lodgement below the city, might know just how severe would be -the cannonade that their vessels would be subjected to. Of course the -Confederates were angry over the loss of the _Indianola_, but the -soldiers of Grant’s army, who had thronged the bank on the Louisiana -side and shouted and laughed to see the fun, looked upon the whole -affair as the best kind of a joke. In speaking of it in his report -Admiral Porter said: “An old coal-barge picked up in the river was the -foundation we had to build on. The casemates were made of old boards in -twelve hours, with empty pork-barrels on top of each other for -smoke-stacks and two old canoes for quarter-boats. Her furnaces were -built of mud, and were only intended to make black smoke instead of -steam.” This was the contrivance which frightened the rebels into -destroying the finest gunboat that ever fell into their hands, and which -is known to history as “Porter’s dummy.” The enemy’s chances for getting -control of the river were farther off than before, and Rodney said he -would surely see the day when his cousin’s trading boat would be making -regular trips up and down the Mississippi. - -“But do you suppose the rebels will throw no obstacles in your way?” -demanded Ned Griffin. “Do you imagine that they will let you run off -cotton at your pleasure? When Vicksburg and Port Hudson fall the river -will be lined with guerillas, and some day they will burn your trading -boat.” - -Taken in connection with what happened afterward these words of Ned’s -seemed almost prophetic. - -Having become satisfied that the rebels were not going to build up a -navy in the river as they fondly hoped to do, Rodney began to think more -about his absent cousin and the letters he had promised to write. The -first one that came through the hands of the provost marshal was mailed -at New Orleans and did not contain a word that was encouraging. Captain -Frazier’s agent could not put a boat on the river just now for three -reasons: He couldn’t get a permit, it wouldn’t be a safe venture at this -stage of the game, and he had as much cotton on hand already as he could -attend to. - -“That hope is knocked in the head,” said Rodney. - -“It is no more than I expected,” replied Mr. Gray, after he had read the -letter. “Saving that cotton is going to be the hardest task you ever set -for yourself. Others have been ruined by this terrible and utterly -useless war, and why should we think to escape? Let us keep our many -blessings constantly in mind, and spend less time in worrying over the -troubles that may come upon us in the future. None of our family have -been killed or sent to prison, and isn’t that something to be thankful -for?” - -And Mr. Gray might have added that another thing to be grateful for was -the fact that the family had not become bitter enemies, as was the case -with some whose members had fought under the opposing flags. Jack and -Marcy were strong for the Union, and Rodney had been the hottest kind of -a rebel; but that made no sort of change in the affectionate regard they -had always cherished for one another. Some Union men bushwhacked their -rebel neighbors, and some Confederate guerillas relentlessly persecuted -their Union relatives; but there was no such feeling in the family whose -boys have been the heroes of this series of books. Consequently, when -the next letter came from Jack, written at his home in far-away North -Carolina, and containing the startling intelligence that Marcy Gray had -been forced into the rebel army in spite of all his efforts to keep out -of it, Rodney was as angry a boy as you ever saw, while his father and -mother could hardly have expressed more sorrow if they had heard that -Marcy had been killed. The paragraph in Jack’s letter which contained -the bad news read as follows: - -"I almost wish I hadn’t been so anxious to see home and friends once -more, for no news at all is better than the crushing words mother said -to me as soon as I got into the house. I wished I had stayed in the -service; and if I ever go back you may rest assured that I shall fight -harder than I did before to put down this rebellion. Poor Marcy wasn’t -here to welcome me. He was surprised and captured in mother’s presence, -thrust into the common jail at Williamston, and finally shipped south -with a lot of other conscripts, to act as guard at that horrible -prison-pen at Millen, Ga. For months Marcy had been a refugee, living in -the swamp with a few other Union men and boys who hid there to escape -being forced into the army, and until a few weeks ago he beat Beardsley, -Shelby, Dillon, and the rest at every job they tried to put up on him; -but he was caught napping at last, and I never expect to see or hear of -him again. Mother is almost broken-hearted, but being a woman she bears -up under it better than I do. But hasn’t there been a time here since -Marcy was dragged away! The work was done by strange soldiers, but -Marcy’s friends knew who was to blame for it, and took vengeance -immediately. The three men whose names I have mentioned were burned out -so completely that they didn’t have even a nigger cabin to go into, and -two pestiferous little snipes, Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin by name, -whose tongues have kept the settlement in a constant turmoil, were -bushwhacked. - -“I will write you fuller particulars after a while, but just now I am -rather ‘shuck up.’ Of course this upsets all my plans; my place is at -home with mother. I inclose Captain Frazier’s card, to which I have -appended his New Orleans address. I told him all about your cotton, and -he and the agent will be only too glad to help you get it to market as -soon as they think it safe to make the attempt. You can trust them, but -be sure and hold out for twenty-five cents, greenback money. Captain -Frazier promised me he would give it.” - - -The rest of the page was filled with loving messages from Marcy’s -sorrowing mother, and at the bottom was a hasty scrawl that stood for -Sailor Jack’s name. - -Mr. Gray brought this letter from Baton Rouge, and finding Rodney at -home with his mother, gave it to him to read aloud. The boy’s voice -became husky before he read half a dozen lines, and Mrs. Gray’s eyes -were filled with tears. When it was finished Rodney handed it back to -his father with the remark: - -“I am a good deal of Jack’s opinion that we shall never see or hear of -Marcy again. I know by experience that the petty tyrants we call -officers make the service so hard that a volunteer can scarcely stand -it, and how much mercy do you think they will have on a conscript? They -would as soon kill him as to look at him. No better fellow than Marcy -ever lived, and to think that I—I deserve killing myself.” - -Rodney arose hastily from his chair, staggered up to the room he still -called his own, threw himself upon the bed and buried his tear-stained -face in his hands. He had not forgotten, he never would forget, that -episode at the Barrington Military Academy in which Bud Goble and his -minute-men bore prominent parts. Marcy had freely forgiven him for what -he did to bring it about, but it was always fresh in Rodney’s mind. How -terribly the memory of it tortured him now! - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - RODNEY IS ASTONISHED. - -Rodney Gray had promised himself no end of pleasurable excitement when -his sailor cousin returned to take command of a trading boat on the -river, for he had made up his mind that he would accompany Jack wherever -he went. He was as well satisfied as Ned Griffin was that the fall of -Vicksburg and Port Hudson would be the signal for instant and increased -activity among the guerillas who infested the country as far up as New -Madrid, and that picking up cotton along the river with an unarmed boat -would be a hazardous undertaking. - -The Mississippi is the most tortuous of rivers, and there is none in the -world better adapted to guerilla warfare. Frequently the distance a -steamer has to traverse in going around a bend is from twelve to thirty -times greater than it is in a direct line across the country. The great -bend at Napoleon is a notable example. A steamboat has to run fifteen -miles to get around it, while the neck of land that makes the bend is -but a mile wide. This was a famous guerilla station during the war until -Commander Selfridge cut a ditch across the neck and turned the -Mississippi into a new channel. A band of guerillas, with a howitzer or -two mounted in wagons, would fire into a transport at the upper end of -the bend (they seldom troubled armed steamers), and failing to sink or -disable her there, would travel leisurely across the country and be -ready to try it again when the steamboat arrived at the lower end. What -made this sort of warfare particularly exasperating was the fact that -the guerillas did not live along the river, but came from remote points, -fifty or a hundred miles back in the country. If a gunboat hove in sight -they would take to their heels; and if the gunboat landed a company or -two of small-arm men and burned the nearest dwellings, as all gunboats -were ordered to do in cases like the one we are supposing, the chances -were that they punished people who were no more to blame for what the -guerillas did than you or your chum. - -The majority of the men who carried on this style of fighting were -worthless fellows, like Lambert and Moseley, who had everything to make -and nothing to lose by it; and we may anticipate events a little by -saying that they came to look upon trading boats as their legitimate -prey. If there was a fortune for the man who was lucky enough to get a -permit to trade in cotton, there was also plenty of danger for him. -Rodney would have entered upon this adventurous life with the same -enthusiasm he exhibited when he set out for the North to aid in “driving -the Yankees out of Missouri,” but there was little prospect that he -would ever see any of it now that Jack had decided to remain at home -with his mother. To do him justice he did not mourn over his -disappointment, or the possible loss of his father’s cotton, as he did -over the dire misfortune that had befallen his cousin Marcy. - -“I wish I stood in his shoes this minute, and that he stood in mine,” -Rodney said to his mother more than once. “I could stand the hard knocks -he is likely to receive, but Marcy can’t.” - -Remembering that Jack had promised to send “fuller particulars” when he -felt more in the humor for writing, Rodney spent more time in riding to -and from the provost marshal’s office than he did in managing his -plantation, but that official had received no letters for him. In the -meantime the situation at Vicksburg grew more encouraging every day. -Severe battles had been fought and the soldiers of the Union, always -victorious, had gained a footing below Vicksburg where there was no -water to interfere with their movements, as there was in the inundated -Yazoo country, and Colonel Grierson, at the head of seventeen hundred -cavalry, was raiding through the State in the direction of Baton Rouge, -stealing nothing but fresh horses and food for his men, but thrashing -the rebels whenever he met them (except on one occasion when he lost -seven hundred men in a single engagement), cutting railroads and -telegraph lines in every direction, and destroying commissary trains and -depots by the score. It was this famous raid which first “demonstrated -that the Confederacy was but a shell, strong on the outside by reason of -its organized armies, but hollow within and destitute of resources to -sustain, or of strength to recruit these armies.” - -“They say he’s coming sure enough,” remarked Ned Griffin one day, -“although in some places he has had to ride over wide stretches of -country where the water stood six feet deep on a level. That’s pluck. -What are you going to do with our exemption bacon?” - -“And our horses,” added Rodney. “If the Yanks are hungry when they reach -this plantation, they can take the exemption bacon and welcome. I’d much -rather they should have it than it should go to feed rebels. But our -horses they can’t have; or at least they’ll have to hunt for them before -they get them. Where is Grierson now?” - -“They’ve got the report in Mooreville that he was last heard from up -about Port Hudson,” replied Ned. - -“Then we’ve no time to lose,” said Rodney. “His scouts, of course, are a -long way ahead of him, and may be here any hour. Let’s take care of the -horses the first thing we do. There’s nothing else on your place or mine -worth stealing, unless it is the bacon.” - -The boys were none too soon in looking out for their riding nags, for -the expected scouts arrived the next morning about breakfast time, and -although Rodney had seen some dusty, dirty, and ragged soldiers in his -day, he told himself that these rough-riding Yankees, who threw down his -bars and rode into the yard as though they had a perfect right there, -would bear off the palm. They were a jovial, good-natured lot, however, -and well they might be; for their long raid from La Grange, Tenn., was -nearly finished. Another night would see them safely quartered among -their friends in Baton Rouge. - -“Hallo, Johnny,” was the way in which the foremost soldier greeted -Rodney, who advanced to meet the raiders. “Where’s your well or spring -or whatever it is you get drinking water from? Any graybacks around -here? Trot out your guns and things of that sort, and save us the -trouble of looking for them.” - -“The well is around there,” replied Rodney, jerking his thumb over his -shoulder. “And there’s nothing in the house more dangerous than a -case-knife. If you don’t believe it, look and see.” - -This invitation was quite superfluous, for some of the raiders, who had -ridden around to the well and dismounted, were in the house almost -before Rodney ceased speaking. He heard their heavy footsteps in the -hall in which his black housekeeper had just finished laying the -breakfast, and when he turned about they had cleared the table of the -victuals they found on it, and one was in the act of draining the -coffee-pot. - -“Where are all your horses, Johnny?” asked the latter, as he put down -his empty cup. “Mine’s played out, and I must have another.” - -“You’ll not find him on this plantation,” was the reply. “General -Breckenridge’s men passed through here not long ago, and that means that -there are few horses in the country. If yours has given out you will -have to take a mule or walk.” - -“How does it come that you are not in the army?” inquired another, with -his mouth full of bacon and corn pone. - -“I’ve been there, but you Yanks whipped me so bad I was glad to get -home.” - -By this time the lieutenant in command of the troopers had made himself -known, and to him Rodney presented his papers, which included his -discharge, standing pass from the provost marshal, and his permit to -trade within the Union lines. As he handed the papers to the officer his -attention was drawn to two persons near him, who were by far the most -dilapidated specimens of humanity Rodney had ever seen. Every line of -their faces was indicative of exposure and suffering, and their -clothing, what little they wore, looked as though it might fall in -pieces at any moment. They were plainly fit candidates for the hospital, -and it was a mystery to Rodney how they managed to keep the heavy -infantry muskets which rested across their saddles from slipping out of -their grasp. By the time he made these observations the lieutenant had -read the first line of the pass, which happened to be the first paper he -opened, and when he saw the name it bore he looked at one of the -dilapidated specimens of whom we have spoken and said, with a grin: - -“If you have been telling a straight story, Johnny, how does it come -that you don’t recognize your cousin when you see him standing before -your face and eyes?” - -Rodney Gray was utterly confounded. He looked at the officer and then at -the person to whom the words were addressed, but he could not speak -until he heard the reply given in a familiar voice: - -“I have told you nothing but the truth, sir, and if that is Rodney Gray -he will bear me out in everything I have said.” - -The sick and exhausted stranger reeled about on his mule for an instant, -his musket fell to the ground, and he would have followed headlong if -Rodney had not sprung forward and received him in his arms. He eased him -tenderly to the ground, supported his head on one knee, and looked up at -the lieutenant. - -“Who is it?” he asked in a husky voice. - -“He says his name is Marcy Gray, that he lives in North Carolina, and is -an escaped conscript,” was the answer. “That’s all I know about him. -Captain Forbes picked him and his partner up somewhere about Enterprise, -and they’ve been with us ever since.” - -Rodney took one more glance at the white face on his knee, and then -raised the limp, almost lifeless form in his arms, carried it into the -house, and laid it on his own bed. - -“I said you could never stand the hard knocks that would be given to a -conscript, and I reckon you’ve found it out, haven’t you?” were the -first words he spoke. - -But Marcy—Rodney began to believe now that it was really his cousin -Marcy who had come to him in this strange way, though he never would -have suspected it if the officer had not told him so—did not even -whisper a reply. He never moved a finger, but lay motionless where -Rodney had placed him. He was so still, his face was so white, and his -faint breath came at so long intervals that Rodney feared he was already -past such help as he could give him; and it was not until half a bucket -of water had been dashed into his face, a cupful at a time, that he -began showing any signs of life. Then he put his arms around his -cousin’s neck and drew the latter’s tanned face close to his own white -one; but it was very little strength he could put into the embrace. - -“O Rodney, I am so tired,” he said, in a scarcely audible whisper. - -“It’s a wonder you are not dead,” replied his cousin in a choking voice. -“I never thought to see you again, but you are all right now. Every Yank -in this country is my friend.” - -“Then look out for Charley, and don’t let them hurt him,” whispered -Marcy, for he was too weak to talk. “They haven’t been very civil to us, -for they think we are spies sent out to draw them into ambush.” - -“You look like it, I must say,” exclaimed Rodney. “But who is Charley?” - -“Charley Bowen, my partner; the man who escaped when I did, and who has -stuck to me like a brother through it all. He knows the country, and if -it hadn’t been for him I wouldn’t have got ten miles from the stockade. -Give me a big drink of water, and then go out and say a good word for -him. Bring him in if they will let you.” - -After Marcy had drained the cup that was held to his lips Rodney -hastened out to see what he could do for Charley, and to secure his -papers, which were worth more than their weight in gold to him. He found -them on the gallery where the lieutenant had left them, and the -lieutenant himself was in the back yard looking on while one of the -soldiers shifted his saddle from his broken-down beast to the back of -one of Rodney’s plough-mules, all of which had been brought in from the -field. - -“A fair exchange is no robbery, Johnny,” said the officer, as Rodney -approached him. “And besides, you get the butt end of this trade. My -mule is bigger than yours, and will be better and stronger after he has -had a rest and a chance to fill out.” - -“What are you going to do with those conscripts?” inquired Rodney. - -“I haven’t orders to do anything with them,” answered the lieutenant. -“But of course I am expected to take them to Baton Rouge and turn them -over to the provost marshal.” - -“Why can’t you leave them here with me? I will look out for them.” - -“And you a discharged rebel? You’re a cool one, Johnny.” - -“But that boy in the house is my cousin, and as strong for the Union as -you or any man in your squad. Besides, he is ill and can’t go any -farther, and he wants his partner to stay with him. If the provost -marshal doesn’t tell you that I am all right with the authorities in -Baton Rouge, you can come back here and get him.” - -“You are very kind; but we are not making any excursions into the -country just for the fun of the thing. We have ridden far enough -already. What’s the matter out there, Allen?” - -“Big dust up the road, sir,” replied the soldier who had been left at -the bars. “Coming fast too, sir.” - -“Boots and saddles!” exclaimed the lieutenant, throwing himself on the -back of Rodney’s plough-mule. “Sergeant, form skirmish-line among the -trees to the right of the house.” - -“You’re taking trouble for nothing,” said Rodney. “There are no rebs -about here. That’s a Yankee scouting party from Baton Rouge.” - -The lieutenant didn’t know whether it was or not, and so, like a good -soldier, he made ready to fight, and to send word to his superior in the -rear if he found himself confronted by a force of the enemy too strong -for him to withstand. He kept his eye on the sentry, who had faced his -horse toward the bars in readiness to dash through them and join his -comrades if the rapidly approaching squad proved to be rebels, but he -did not retreat, nor did he discharge his carbine, which he held at -“arms port.” He stuck to his post until the foremost of the squad rode -into view around a turn in the road and then called out: - -“Who comes there?” - -Rodney did not hear the reply, and the challenged parties were concealed -from his sight by trees and bushes; but he knew they were Federal -troopers when he heard the sentry continue: - -“Halt! Dismount! Advance one friend and give an account of yourself.” -Then he waved his hand toward the house as a signal for some officer to -come out and receive the report. - -The lieutenant answered the signal and Rodney went with him; and when he -reached the bars whom should he see standing in the road talking to the -sentry but the corporal of the —th Michigan cavalry, who seemed to have -a way of turning up most opportunely. He shook hands with Rodney, and -told the lieutenant that he had been sent out with a few men to see if -he could learn anything about Colonel Grierson, who ought to have been -safe in Baton Rouge two or three days ago. - -“Judging by their looks, and the way they eat and trade mules, these are -some of Grierson’s men,” said Rodney. - -The lieutenant corroborated the statement, and said that the reason they -had been so long delayed was because they were obliged to pass through -miles of bottom land where the water was almost swimming deep. The -colonel was but a short distance in the rear, and might be expected to -come along any moment. Then he plied the corporal with questions as to -what Grant and Porter were doing at Vicksburg, and it was not until his -patience was well-nigh exhausted that Rodney saw opportunity to say a -word for himself. The instant there was a pause in the conversation he -broke in with: - -“Now, corporal, be kind enough to tell the lieutenant how I stand with -the provost marshal.” - -“All right in every spot and place,” replied the soldier quickly. -“What’s the matter? Have these raiders been stealing something?” - -“Oh, I don’t mind the little grub they ate, or the mules they took in -exchange for their crow-baits,” answered Rodney. “They’re welcome to -everything on the place if they will only leave my cousin with me. Is my -word good when I say that I will be responsible for his safe keeping?” - -“Your word is always good,” said the corporal, who was much astonished. -“But how came your cousin back here? I thought he went to New Orleans to -ship on a cotton boat.” - -“But this is another one—his brother Marcy, who came here with these -Yanks. They’ll kill him if they try to take him any farther, and I want -him left here with me. His partner, too.” - -“Well, if this isn’t a little ahead of anything I ever heard of I -wouldn’t say so,” exclaimed the corporal. “Where did you pick him up, -lieutenant?” - -The latter explained briefly, as we shall do presently, adding that he -didn’t think he had any right to grant Rodney’s request. - -“I didn’t really suppose you had, sir,” said the corporal. “But I was -going to make a suggestion. I will ride on until I meet the colonel—that -is what my orders oblige me to do—and when I see a chance I’ll say—have -you got any grub in the house?” - -“Plenty of it, such as it is,” answered Rodney. - -“It’s good enough for a hungry soldier, I’ll be bound. Tell your -housekeeper to dish up enough for the colonel and three or four of his -staff, and I’ll ride on and ask him if he’s hungry. He can’t well help -it after such a raid as he has made, and then I’ll tell him that I know -where he can get a good breakfast and bring him right here to your -house. After he has eaten his fill he’ll be good-natured, and then you -and I will talk to him about your cousin.” - -The lieutenant laughed heartily as he listened to this programme. “It’s -a very ingenious arrangement, corporal,” said he, as the -non-commissioned officer beckoned to his men, who were still waiting at -the place where they had been halted by the sentry. “And I think it -ought to succeed. But as I can’t wait for the colonel without disobeying -my orders, which are to scout on ahead, what shall I do with the -conscripts?” - -“Leave a guard with them,” suggested Rodney. - -“I suppose I might do that, and since the colonel is a volunteer like -myself, I’ll risk it. If he were a regular I wouldn’t think of it for a -moment.” - -“Another cousin!” muttered the corporal, as he swung himself into his -saddle. “How many more of your family are going to fall down on you out -of the clouds? It’s the strangest thing I ever heard of.” - -“And you’ll never hear the like again,” answered Rodney. “But I do not -look for any more. Two cousins are all I have.” - -The corporal laughed and rode on up the road to meet the expected -raiders, and the lieutenant told his sergeant to call in the men who -were still holding their positions on the skirmish-line which had been -formed when that warning dust was seen rising above the tree-tops. He -told Charley Bowen that he could remain behind to receive orders from -Colonel Grierson when he arrived, and detailed two troopers to keep -watch on him and Marcy Gray. - -“This isn’t at all regular; I ought to take those conscripts to Baton -Rouge, and I am soldier enough to know it,” said the lieutenant, -addressing himself to Rodney. “But you seem to be all right with that -corporal, and if you and he can make it all right with Colonel Grierson -I shall be glad of it. I have heard your cousin’s story and should be -glad to listen to the additions I know you can make to it, but haven’t -time just now.” - -“It confirms one’s faith in human nature to meet a kind-hearted soldier -now and then,” said Rodney, who knew that the lieutenant could have -compelled the conscripts to go on with him if he had been so disposed. -“I am very grateful to you, and will do you a good turn if I get half a -chance. Whenever you scout through this country drop in and have a bowl -of milk. I can’t offer you any to-day, for your men have made away with -all I had. Good-by. This is what I get by befriending escaped -prisoners,” he added mentally, as he started on a run for the house. “If -I hadn’t taken so much trouble to help that corporal where would Marcy -be now?” - -As it was, he was lying at his ease on Rodney’s bed instead of riding -along the dusty road toward Baton Rouge, reeling in his seat from very -weakness. Charley Bowen sat close by holding his hand, and the two -troopers who had been detailed to guard them were lounging on the -gallery just outside the window. The hand that rested in Bowen’s palm -was not white like its owner’s face, but very much swollen and -discolored, and Rodney noticed it at once. - -“What’s the matter?” he inquired. “How did you get hurt?” - -“He was triced up by the thumbs till he fainted,” replied Bowen, -speaking for his comrade. - -Rodney’s face turned all sorts of colors. - -“General Lee himself couldn’t make me believe that the punishment was -deserved,” said he through his teeth. “That boy drilled alongside of me -for almost four years at the Barrington Military Academy, and a better -soldier never shouldered a musket. He knows more than the man who triced -him up. What was it done for?” - -“Because Marcy didn’t shoot a Yankee prisoner whose hand was inside the -deadline,” replied Bowen. - -“And his hand wasn’t inside the deadline,” said Marcy in a faint voice. -“It was under the rail which marked the line, and the poor fellow was -trying to get hold of an old tin cup that someone had thrown there, so -that he could dig a hole in the ground to protect him from the weather. -If I had been a volunteer and had shot that man, I would have received a -month’s leave of absence.” - -Rodney sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the two troopers -who were leaning half-way through the window, listening. His face showed -that he could hardly believe the story even if his cousin did tell it. - -“There’s a man in our company who escaped from Andersonville, and he -declares that such things really happened,” said one of the soldiers. -“Besides being starved to death our fellows are shot without any -provocation at all.” - -“And because you wouldn’t murder that Yankee somebody triced you up by -the thumbs,” said Rodney in a voice that was choked with anger. “Who -reported you?” - -“The sentry in the next box, who saw it all,” replied Marcy. “He tried -to get a shot at the man himself, but the prisoner’s friends closed -around him and hustled him out of sight; and that made the sentry so -angry that he reported me before we were relieved from post.” - -“How can the rebels hope to win in this war when they torture their own -men for not committing murder?” exclaimed Rodney hotly. - -“Why, I thought you were a rebel,” said one of the soldiers at the -window. - -“So I was,” answered Rodney honestly. “But, as I have said a hundred -times before, I know when I have had enough. When I was whipped I quit.” - -Both the troopers extended their hands, and after Rodney had shaken them -cordially he walked over and shook hands with Charley Bowen, and tried -to thank him for what he had done for Marcy; but his voice grew husky -and finally broke, and so he gave it up as a task beyond his powers. - -“I am a Georgia cracker,” said Bowen, “and the boys used to call me -‘goober-grabbler’; but I know a good fellow when I see him, and I don’t -want any thanks for doing for your cousin what I am sure he would have -done for me if he had known the country as well as I do. He assured me -that we could find friends if I would guide him to Baton Rouge, and I -was doing the best I could at it when we fell in with Captain Forbes.” - -“I know I should never have seen Marcy again if it hadn’t been for you, -because he told me so, and you are more than welcome to a share in -everything the war has left us. Now I must tear myself away for a few -minutes, for I have work to do. Don’t let Marcy talk; he is too weak.” - -So saying Rodney hastened from the room to order Colonel Grierson’s -breakfast, and to write a short note to his mother, requesting that the -only doctor in the country for miles around who had been able to keep -out of the army might be sent to his plantation as soon as he could be -found, to prescribe for Marcy Gray, who had come to him in a most -remarkable manner. He didn’t stop to explain how, for he hadn’t time; -but he made his mother understand that Marcy was in need of prompt -medical attention. Rodney knew that his father would at once answer the -note in person, and when he arrived he could tell him as much of his -cousin’s story as he knew himself. - -The note was sent off by one of the negroes, who was quickly summoned -from the field to take it; and after Rodney had satisfied himself that -the colonel’s breakfast was coming on as well as he could desire, and -had given instructions regarding a second meal that was to be made ready -for the conscripts and their guards, he went back to Marcy. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - MARK GOODWIN’S PLAN. - -Matters could not have worked more to Rodney Gray’s satisfaction if he -had had the planning of them himself. The hasty note he wrote to his -mother brought Mr. Gray to the plantation within an hour, and with him -came the doctor, who, for a wonder, was found at home by the messenger -whom Mrs. Gray had despatched to bring him. He lanced Marcy’s hands, -which had not received the least medical attention since the day they -were wounded by the cruel cord that held him suspended in the air so -that his toes barely touched the ground, bandaged them in good shape, -and gave him some medicine; and all the time Mr. Gray stood in an -adjoining room listening, while his eyes grew moist, to Rodney’s hurried -description of the events of the morning. Before he had time to ask many -questions the bars rattled again, and the hounds gave tongue as Colonel -Grierson and two or three of his officers rode into the yard. His weary, -travel-stained soldiers were close behind, but the most of them kept on -down the road, while only a small body-guard remained to watch over the -safety of the commanding officer. Rodney’s friend the corporal came into -the yard with the colonel, and winked and nodded in a way that was very -encouraging. Rodney stood on the veranda and saluted, while the two -troopers seized their carbines and presented arms. - -“Come right in, sir,” said the boy. “I have been waiting for you.” - -“Thank you. The corporal promised us a breakfast if we would stop here, -and so we thought it advisable to stop. I hope you’ll not object if we -sit down just as we are,” said the colonel, who was as dirty and ragged -as any of his men, “for we have scant time to stand on ceremony. Are -these the guards that were left with the conscripts? Forbes, step in and -see if they are the ones you picked up at Enterprise.” - -Forbes was the captain who had been sent with a squad of thirty-five men -to perform the perilous duty of cutting the telegraph-wires north of -Macon, and the gallant and daring exploit by which he saved his small -force from falling into the clutches of three thousand rebels we have -yet to describe. He recognized Marcy and his friend Bowen as the -conscripts who had surrendered themselves to him at Enterprise, shook -hands with one, patted the other on the head and said he guessed it was -all right, and that they could remain with Rodney as long as they -pleased. - -“There,” said the doctor. “Those words will do the patient more good -than all the medicine I could give him. Homesickness is what troubles -him more than anything else, but now that he is safe among his relatives -he will soon get over that.” - -Captain Forbes replied that he hoped so, and went out to join the -colonel at the table, while Rodney made haste to serve up the breakfast -that had been prepared for the two conscripts and their guards. Of -course the corporal was not forgotten, and he said he had been living on -army bacon and hard-tack just long enough to give him a sharp appetite -for the chicken and corn bread with which his plate was filled. When -Rodney went into the hall to see if his other guests were well served, -Captain Forbes cheered his heart by remarking that, as the conscripts -were not prisoners, they were at liberty to do as they pleased about -going or staying. - -In twenty minutes more the colonel had galloped away with his -body-guard, the plantation house was quiet, Marcy was sleeping the sleep -of exhaustion, and Charley Bowen was sitting on the porch with Mr. Gray -and Rodney, who listened with deep interest while he told of the -adventures that had befallen him and his partner since they took leave -of the stockade at Millen, which was as much of a prison to the -conscript guards as it was to the unhappy Union soldiers who were -confined on the inside. Their food was of rather better quality, and -they had more of it; but that was about all the difference there was -between them. Bowen’s short narrative prepared them to hear something -interesting when Marcy awoke; but that did not happen for eighteen -hours, and during that time the doctor made a second visit and Mr. Gray -went home and brought his wife, who shed tears abundantly when she saw -the thin, wan face on the pillow. But his long refreshing sleep and the -knowledge that he was among friends, and that the dreaded stockade with -all its harrowing associations was miles away, never to come before him -again except in his dreams, did wonders for Marcy Gray. When he awoke -his eye was as bright as ever, and the strong voice in which he called -out: “If there is a good Samaritan in this house I wish he would bring -me a drink of water,” was delightful to hear. Rodney, who had just -arisen from the lounge on which he had passed the night in an adjoining -room, lost no time in bringing the water, and his cousin’s hearty -greeting reminded him of the good old days at Barrington before the war -came with its attendant horrors, and set the boys of the family to -fighting under different flags. - -“The only thing I have had enough of since I left home is water,” said -Marcy; and Rodney was glad to see that he was strong enough to sit up in -bed and hold the cup with his own hand. “This isn’t all a dream, is it? -If it is, I hope I shall never wake up.” - -“It is not a dream,” Rodney assured him. “Look at your hands. Do you -dream that it hurts you to move them? And do you dream that you see your -aunt?” he added, making way for Mrs. Gray, who at that moment came into -the room and bent over the couch. - -Another good sign was that Marcy awoke hungry. He did not say so, for it -was too early in the morning for breakfast and Marcy never made trouble -if he could help it; but Rodney suspected it, and in a few minutes the -banging of stove-lids bore testimony that he was busy in the kitchen, -where he was soon joined by Charley Bowen, who said he was the best cook -in Georgia. The latter had been given a room to himself, but finding the -shuck mattress too soft and warm for comfort, he went out on the gallery -during the night and slept there, with Rodney’s hounds for company. -While these two worked in the kitchen, Mrs. Gray sat by Marcy’s bedside -and told him of Sailor Jack’s visit, and of the letters that had since -been received from him, so he could understand that, although his sudden -appearance was a great surprise to his friends, it was not quite as -bewildering as it would have been had they not been aware that he was -doing guard duty at Millen. She was going on to tell of Jack’s plans, -which had been upset by Marcy’s arrest, when Rodney, who stood in the -door listening, broke in with: - -“What will you put up against my roll of Confederate scrip that we don’t -see Jack in this country again in less than a month? I wrote him -yesterday, and it was a letter that will bring him as quickly as he can -come; that is, if he thinks it safe to leave his mother. And, Marcy, -you’ll have to stay, for you can’t go back among those rebels without -running the risk of being dragged off again; and I know what I am -talking about when I say that in our army desertion means death.” - -“What sort of a fellow are you to talk about ‘rebels’ and ‘our army’ in -the same breath?” demanded Marcy. - -“I am as strong for the Union as General Grant, and wish I could do as -much for it as he is doing to-day,” replied Rodney earnestly. “You never -expected to hear me utter such sentiments, did you? Well, I am honest. I -want peace, and so does everybody except Jeff Davis and a few others -high in authority. I’ll bring Jack here if I can, and then we’ll become -traders, all of us. We want to save what we can from the wreck.” - -By the time breakfast was served and eaten, and the conscripts had -exchanged their rags for whole suits of clothing, Mr. Gray and Ned -Griffin came to swell their number, and to hear Marcy tell how he and -his comrade managed to escape from Millen and to elude their pursuers -afterward. Marcy protested that he wasn’t going to lie abed when there -was no need of it, so he was propped up with pillows in the biggest -rocking-chair the house afforded, and pulled out to the porch, where the -family assembled to listen to his story, which ran about as follows: - -When we took leave of Marcy Gray to resume the history of his cousin -Rodney’s adventures and exploits, he was a refugee from home and living -in the woods in company with a small party of men and boys who had fled -there to avoid the enrolling officers, as well as to escape persecution -at the hands of their rebel neighbors. By a bold piece of strategy Marcy -had relieved his mother of the presence of her overseer, Hanson by name, -who had managed to keep her in constant trouble and anxiety ever since -the first gun was fired from Sumter. Hanson made it his business to keep -informed on all matters that related to the private life of the -occupants of the great house; in fact it was suspected that Beardsley, -Shelby, and some other wealthy rebels paid him to do it. It was rumored -that Mrs. Gray had a large sum of money hidden somewhere about her -premises, and if that was a fact, these enemies, who were all the while -working against her in secret, desired above all things to know it. They -wanted the money themselves if it could be found, and even went so far -as to bring four ruffians from a distant point to break into the house -at night and steal it. If they failed to line their own pockets, it was -their intention to induce the Richmond authorities to interest -themselves in the matter. A law enacted by the Confederate Congress at -the breaking out of the war provided that all debts owing to Northern -men should be repudiated, and the amount of those debts turned into the -Confederate treasury. Marcy often declared that his mother did not owe -anybody a red cent; but it would have been easy for such men as -Beardsley and Shelby to swear that she did, and that, instead of -complying with the law, she was hoarding the money for her own use. If -this could be proved against her, Mrs. Gray would have to surrender her -gold or go to jail; but somehow Marcy was always in the way whenever her -secret enemies tried to collect evidence against her. Being always on -his guard he never could be made to acknowledge that there was a dollar -in or around the great house, and Beardsley undertook to remove him so -that he and his fellow-conspirators could have a clear field for their -operations; and he did it by taking Marcy to sea with him as pilot on -his privateer and blockade runner. - -But for a long time nothing worked to Beardsley’s satisfaction. His fine -dwelling was burned while he was at sea, and the Federal cruisers drove -his blockade runner into port and kept her there until Marcy set fire to -her as she lay at her moorings. This he did on the night he left home to -join the refugees in the swamp. He had a narrow escape that night, and -would certainly have been packed off to Williamston jail before morning -if it had not been for the black boy Julius, who loyally risked his own -life to give Marcy warning. Beardsley and Shelby were finally “gobbled -up” by Union cavalry and taken to Plymouth, which had been captured by -some of Goldsborough’s gunboats and garrisoned by the army; but, -unfortunately for Marcy, they did not remain prisoners for any length of -time. If Beardsley had any luck at all it showed itself in the easy way -he had of slipping through the hands of the Yankees. He was captured by -Captain Benton, who commanded the vessel on which Marcy did duty as -pilot during the battles of Roanoke Island, and in the end was turned -over to General Burnside, who made the mistake of parolling him with the -captured garrison. That was the plea that Beardsley set up when he and -his companions, of whom there were about a dozen, were taken into the -presence of the Federal commander at Plymouth. - -“I’ve been parolled,” said he, “me and all the fellers you see with me. -We promised, honor bright, that we wouldn’t never take up arms agin the -United States, and we’ve kept that promise. So what makes you snatch us -away from our peaceful homes and firesides, and bring us here to shut us -up, when we aint never done the least thing?” - -“But all the same you belong to the Home Guards who were organized for -the purpose of persecuting Union people,” said the colonel. - -“Never heered of no Home Guards,” replied Beardsley, looking astonished. -“There aint no such things in our country, is there, boys?” - -Of course Beardsley’s companions bore willing testimony to the truth of -the statement, and when he and Shelby boldly declared that they would -prove their sincerity by taking the oath then and there, if the colonel -would administer it to them, it settled the matter so far as they were -concerned. Their companions were willing to follow their example rather -than suffer themselves to be sent to a Northern prison, and the result -was that in less than forty-eight hours after Marcy Gray received the -gratifying intelligence that he had seen the last of Beardsley and -Shelby, for a while at least, they were at home again and eager to take -vengeance on the boy whom they blamed more than anyone else for their -short captivity. - -“How did the Yankees get onto our trail so easy, and know all about that -Home Guard business, if Marcy Gray didn’t tell ’em?” said Beardsley, -when he and his friends found themselves safe outside the trenches at -Plymouth and well on their way homeward. “When Marcy made a pris’ner of -his mother’s overseer and took him among the Yankees he give ’em our -names, told ’em where we lived and all about it; and I say he shan’t -stay in the settlement no longer. I’ll land him in Williamston jail -before I am two days older; and when he gets there he won’t come back in -a hurry. I’ll see if I can’t have him sent to some regiment down on the -Gulf coast; then, if he runs away, as he is likely to do the first -chance he sees, he can’t get home.” - -“Be you goin’ to keep that oath, cap’n?” inquired one of Beardsley’s -companions. - -“Listen at the fule! Course I’m going to keep it. I didn’t promise -nothin’ but that I wouldn’t never bear arms agin the Yankee government, -nor lend aid and comfort to its enemies, without any mental observation, -did I? What do you reckon that means, Shelby?” - -“Mental reservation,” corrected Colonel Shelby, who did not like to be -addressed with so much familiarity. “It means that you did not swear to -one thing while you were thinking about another.” - -“Then I took the oath honest, ’cause I wasn’t thinkin’ about Marcy Gray -at all while the colonel was readin’ it to me; but I am thinkin’ of him -now. I didn’t promise that I wouldn’t square yards with him for settin’ -the Yanks onto me, and I’ll perceed to do it before I sleep sound.” - -Beardsley was as good as his word, or tried to be; but it took him -longer than two days to land Marcy Gray in Williamston jail. He laid a -good many plans to capture him, but somehow they were put into operation -just too late to be successful. And what exasperated Beardsley and -Shelby almost beyond endurance, and drove Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin -almost frantic, was the fact that Marcy did not keep himself in hiding -as closely as he used to do. He rode to Nashville whenever he felt like -it, and went in and out of the post-office as boldly as he ever did; but -he was always accompanied by Ben Hawkins and three or four other -parolled rebels, and no one dared lay a hand on him. Ben Hawkins, you -will remember, was the man who created something of a sensation by -making a defiant speech in the post-office shortly after he had been -released on parole by General Burnside. He declared that he had had all -the fighting he wanted and did not intend to go back to the army; and -when that blatant young rebel Tom Allison, who had never shouldered a -musket and did not mean to, so far forgot his prudence as to call -Hawkins a coward, the latter flew into a rage and threatened to “twist” -Tom’s neck for him. - -“Did Hawkins and his parolled comrades know that you served on a Union -gunboat during the fight at Roanoke Island?” asked Rodney, when his -cousin reached this point in his narrative. - -“Of course they knew it; and they knew, too, that Jack was serving on -one of the blockading fleet, but it didn’t seem to make the least -difference in their friendship for me. Hawkins was the man who helped me -get that treacherous overseer out of mother’s way, and he and the other -parolled prisoners who found a home in our refugee camp had relatives in -the settlement; and those relatives found means to warn us whenever a -cavalry raid was expected out from Williamston.” - -“You must have led an exciting life,” observed Rodney. - -Marcy replied that he found some excitement in dodging the rebel cavalry -and in listening to the sounds of the skirmishes that frequently took -place between them and the Union troopers that scouted through the -country from Plymouth; but there wasn’t a bit to be seen during the -weary days he passed on the island, afraid to show his head above the -brush wind-break lest some lurking Confederate should send a bullet into -it. Nor was there any pleasure in the lonely night trips he made to and -from his mother’s house whenever it came his turn to forage for his -companions. Keeping the camp supplied with provisions was a dangerous -duty, and he had to do his share of it. It was always performed under -cover of the darkness, for if any of their number had been seen carrying -supplies away from a house during the daytime, it would have been -reported to the first squad of rebel cavalry that rode through the -settlement, and that house would have been burned to the ground. To make -matters worse the refugees learned, to their great consternation and -anger, that there was an enemy among them; that one who ate salt with -them every day and slept under the same trees at night, who took part in -their councils, heard all the reports, good and bad, that were brought -in, and knew the camp routine so well that he could tell beforehand what -particular refugee would go foraging on a certain night, and name the -houses he would visit during his absence—someone who knew all these -things was holding regular communication with enemies in the settlement, -who made such good use of the information given them by this treacherous -refugee that they brought untold suffering to Marcy Gray and his mother, -and severe and well-merited punishment upon themselves. In order that -you may understand how it was brought about we must describe some things -that Marcy did not include in his narrative, for the very good reason -that he knew nothing of them. - -We have said that Tom Allison and his friend and crony Mark Goodwin were -angry when they saw Marcy Gray and his body-guard riding about the -country, holding their heads high as though they had never done anything -to be ashamed of. Tom and Mark were together all the time, and their -principal business in life was to bring trouble to some good Union -family as often as they saw opportunity to do so without danger to -themselves. The burning of Beardsley’s fine schooner had opened their -eyes to the fact that Marcy and his fellow-refugees could not be trifled -with, that there was a limit to their patience, and that it was the -height of folly to crowd them too far. - -“There’s somebody in this neighborhood who ought to be driven out of -it,” declared Mark Goodwin, while he and Tom Allison were riding toward -Nashville one morning, trying to make up their minds how and where to -pass the long day before them. “Don’t it beat you how Marcy and his -body-guard dodge in and out of the woods when there are no Confederate -soldiers around, and how close they keep themselves at all other times?” - -“Marcy knows what’s going on in the settlement as well as he did when he -lived here,” answered Tom. “He’s got friends, and plenty of them.” - -“Everything goes to prove it,” said Mark, “and those friends ought to be -driven away from here.” - -“That’s what I say; but who are they? Name a few of them.” - -“We’ll never be able to call any of them by name until we put a spy in -the camp of those refugees to keep us posted on all.” - -“Mark,” exclaimed Tom, riding closer to his companion and laying his -riding whip lightly on his shoulder, “you’ve hit it, and I wonder we did -not think of it before. Every general sends out spies to bring him -information which he could not get in any other way, and although we are -not generals we are good and loyal Confederates, and what’s the reason -we can’t do the same? Have you thought of anybody?” - -“There’s Kelsey, for one.” - -“Great Scott, man! He won’t do. Beardsley, Shelby, and a few others -offered Kelsey money to find out whether Marcy and his mother were Union -or Confederate, and tried to have him employed on that plantation as -overseer after Hanson was spirited away, so that he could find out if -there was any money in the house; and Marcy knows all about it.” - -“There’s mighty little goes on that he doesn’t know about, and I can’t -for the life of me see how he keeps so well posted,” observed Mark. - -“Then Beardsley and Shelby tried to induce Kelsey to burn Mrs. Gray’s -house, and Marcy knows about that, too,” continued Tom. “Wouldn’t he be -a plum dunce to let such a man as that come into camp to spy on him? -Besides, Kelsey is too big a coward to undertake the job.” - -“And he couldn’t make the refugees believe that he had turned his coat -and become Union all on a sudden,” assented Mark. “No, Kelsey won’t do. -We ought to make a bargain with somebody who is already in the camp and -who is supposed to be Marcy’s friend. How does Buffum strike you?” - -“Have you any reason to believe that he is not Marcy’s friend?” - -“No; but I believe that a man who is on the make as he is would do -almost anything for gain. He’s no more Union than I am. He kept out of -the army because he was afraid he would be killed if he went in; and -besides, he knew that Beardsley’s promise, to look out for the wants of -his family while he was gone, wasn’t good for anything. By taking up -with the refugees he made sure of getting enough to eat, but,” added -Mark, sinking his voice to a whisper, “he didn’t make sure of anything -else—any money, I mean.” - -“Whew!” whistled Tom. “Perhaps there is something in it. Let’s ride over -and see what Beardsley thinks about it. You are not afraid to trust -him.” - -No, Mark wasn’t afraid to take Captain Beardsley or any other good -Confederate into his confidence, and showed it by turning his horse -around and putting him into a lope. They talked earnestly as they rode, -and the conclusion they came to was that Mark had hit upon a fine plan -for punishing a boy who had never done them the least harm, and that the -lazy, worthless Buffum was just the man to help them carry it out -successfully. Captain Beardsley thought so too, after the scheme had -been unfolded to him. They found him with his coat off and a hoe in his -hands working with his negroes; but he was quite ready to come to the -fence when they intimated that they had something to say to him in -private. Beardsley’s field-hands had disappeared rapidly since the flag -which they knew to be the emblem of their freedom had been given to the -breeze at Plymouth, and those who remained were the aged and crippled, -who were wise enough to know that they could not earn their living among -strangers, and the vicious and shiftless (and Beardsley owned more of -this sort of help than any other planter in the State), who were afraid -that the Yankees would work them too hard. The “invaders” believed that -those who wouldn’t work couldn’t eat, and lived up to their principles -by putting some implement of labor into the hands of the contrabands as -fast as they came inside the lines. - -“They’re a sorry lookin’ lot,” said Captain Beardsley, as he came up to -the fence, rested his elbow on the top rail, and glanced back at his -negroes, “and I am gettin’ tol’able tired of the way things is goin’, -now I tell you. Sixty thousand dollars’ wuth of niggers has slipped -through my fingers sence this war was brung on us, dog-gone the luck, -and that’s what I get for bein’ a Confedrit. If I’d been Union like them -Grays, I’d ’a’ had most of my hands with me yet.” - -“I have a plan for getting even with those Grays, if you’ve got time to -listen to it,” said Mark. - -“I’ve got time to listen to anybody who will show me how to square yards -with the feller who sneaked up like a thief in the night and set fire to -my schooner,” replied Beardsley fiercely. - -“But when Marcy did that wasn’t you trying to make a prisoner of him?” -said Tom. - -“Course I was. And I had a right to, ’cause aint he Union? If he aint, -why didn’t he run Captain Benton’s ship aground when the fight was goin’ -on down there to the Island? He had chances enough.” - -“The Yankees would have hung him if he’d done that.” - -“S’pos’n they did; aint better men than Marcy Gray been hung durin’ this -war, I’d like to know? I wish one of our big shells had hit that gunboat -’twixt wind and water and sent her to the bottom with every soul on -board; but it didn’t happen so, and Marcy was let come home to burn the -only thing I had left in this wide world to make my bread and butter -with. Why, boys, everything I’ve got that schooner made for me on the -high seas—niggers, plantation, and all; and now she has been tooken from -me, dog-gone the luck. How is it you’re thinkin’ of gettin’ even with -him?” - -Mark Goodwin had not proceeded very far with his explanation before he -became satisfied that he had hit upon something which met the captain’s -hearty approval, for the latter rested his bearded chin on his breast, -wagged his head from side to side as he always did when he was very much -pleased and wanted to laugh, and pounded the top rail with his clenched -hand. He let Mark explain without interruption, and when the boy ceased -speaking he backed away from the fence, rested his hands on his knees, -and gave vent to a single shout of merriment. - -“It’ll work; I just know it’ll work,” said he, as soon as he could -speak, “and you couldn’t have picked out a better man for the job than -that sneak Buffum. He’s beholden to me and wants money. Go down and tell -him I want to see him directly.” - -Then Beardsley rested his folded arms on the fence and fell to shaking -his head again. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - BEN MAKES A FAILURE. - -“But, captain,” said Tom Allison, who was delighted by this prompt and -emphatic indorsement of his friend’s plan, “are you sure the thing can -be done without bringing suspicion upon any of us? You have a lot of -property that will burn, and so has Mark’s father’s and mine. Remember -that. Are you positive that Buffum can be trusted, and has he courage -enough to take him through?” - -“Nobody aint a-going to get into no trouble if you uns do like I tell -you and go and send Buffum up here to me,” replied Beardsley. “Am I -likely to disremember that I’ve got a lot of things left that will burn -as easy as my dwellin’ house did? and do you reckon I’d take a hand in -the business if I wasn’t sure it would work? Your Uncle Lon has got a -little sense left yet. And I’ll pertect you uns too, if you will keep -still tongues into your heads and let me do all the talkin’. You’ll find -Buffum down to his house if you go right now. I seen him pikin’ -that-a-way acrosst the fields when I rode up from Nashville not more’n -two hours ago. Tell him I want to see him directly, and then watch out. -Somethin’s goin’ to happen this very night.” - -“Who do you think will be captured first?” asked Mark. - -“Marcy Gray, of course,” replied Tom. “He must be first, or at least one -of the first, for by the time two or three foragers have been captured -on two or three different nights, the rest of the refugees will become -suspicious and change their way of sending out foragers.” - -“S’pos’n they do,” exclaimed Beardsley. “Won’t Buffum be right there in -their camp, to take notus of every change that is made, and as often as -he comes home can’t he slip up here and post me? Now, you hurry up and -tell Buffum I want to see him directly.” - -As Beardsley emphasized his words by turning away from the fence and -hastening toward the place where he had dropped his hoe, the boys did -not linger to ask any more questions, but jumped their horses over the -ditch and started in a lope for Buffum’s cabin. - -“I almost wish we had gone straight to Buffum’s in the first place and -kept away from Beardsley,” said Mark as they galloped along. “It is -bound to end in the breaking up of that band of refugees, and when it is -done, Beardsley will claim all the honor, and perhaps declare that the -plan originated in his own head.” - -“And he’ll have to stand the brunt of it if things don’t work as we hope -they will,” added Tom. “If he lisps it in his daughter’s presence it -will get all over the State in twenty-four hours, and then there’ll be -some hot work around here.” - -Half an hour’s riding brought the boys to Buffum’s cabin, which stood in -the middle of a ten-acre field that had been planted to corn, and so -rapidly did they approach it that they caught the owner in the act of -dodging out of the door with a heavy shot-gun in his hands. Believing -that he had been fairly surprised and was about to fall into the hands -of Confederate troopers, the man’s cowardly nature showed itself. He -leaned his gun against the cabin and raised both hands above his head in -token of surrender; but when he had taken a second look and discovered -that he had been frightened without good reason, he snatched up his gun -again and aimed it at Tom Allison’s head. - -“Halt!” he shouted. “I’ll die before I will be tooken.” - -“Why didn’t you talk that way before you saw who we were?” demanded Tom. -“You can’t get up a reputation for courage by any such actions. Captain -Beardsley wants to see you at his house.” - -“What do you reckon he wants of me?” inquired the man, letting down the -hammers of his gun and seating himself on the doorstep. “Aint nary -soldier behind you, is they?” - -“We haven’t seen a soldier for a week,” replied Tom. “We haven’t come -here to get you into trouble——” - -“But to put you in the way of making some money,” chimed in Mark. - -“Well, you couldn’t have come to a man who needs money wuss than I do,” -said Buffum, becoming interested. “What do you want me to do?” - -“We want you to break up that camp of refugees down there in the swamp.” - -“Then you’ve come to the wrong pusson,” said Buffum, shaking his head in -a very decided way. “Don’t you know that I’m livin’ in that camp, and -that I don’t never come out ’ceptin’ when I know there aint no rebel -soldiers scoutin’ around?” - -“How does it happen that you know when there are no rebel scouts in the -settlement?” inquired Mark. “Somebody must keep you posted.” - -“I’ve got friends, and good ones, too.” - -“So I supposed,” continued Mark. “And you know on what nights Marcy Gray -goes to his mother’s house after grub, don’t you? I thought so. Well, if -you will let us know when he expects to go there again it will be money -in your pocket.” - -“How much money?” asked Buffum; and his tone and manner encouraged the -boys to believe that, if sufficient inducement were held out, he might -be depended on to supply the desired information. He picked up a twig -that lay near him, and broke it in pieces with fingers that trembled -visibly. - -“You can set your own price,” replied Mark. “And bear in mind that you -will not run the slightest risk. Who is going to suspect you if you take -pains to remain in camp on the night Marcy is captured? Now will you go -down and talk to Beardsley about it?” - -“You’re sure you didn’t see nary soldier while you was comin’ up here?” -said the man doubtfully. - -“We didn’t, and neither did we hear of any. You don’t want to follow the -road, for you will save time and distance by going through the woods. -You will find Beardsley in the field north of where his house used to -stand. You’ll go, won’t you?” - -Buffum said he would think about it, and the boys rode away, satisfied -that he would start as soon as they were out of sight. - -“So far so good, with one exception,” said Tom, as they rode out of the -field into the road. “We talked too much, and Beardsley told us -particularly to keep still.” - -“I don’t care if he did,” answered Mark spitefully. “This is my plan, -and if it works I want, and mean to have, the honor of it. I hope it -will get to Marcy’s ears, for when he is in the army I want him to know -that I put him there.” - -“He’ll know it,” said Tom with a laugh. “Buffum’s wife was in the cabin, -and heard every word we said.” - -While Tom and Mark were spending their time in this congenial way, Marcy -Gray and his fellow-refugees were finding what little enjoyment they -could in acting as camp-keepers, or visiting their friends and relatives -in the settlement. Just now there was little scouting done by either -side. The Confederates at Williamston had lost about as many men as they -could afford to lose in skirmishes with the Federals, who were always -strong enough to drive them and to take a few prisoners besides, and had -grown weary of searching for a camp of refugees which they began to -believe was a myth. - -“It’s always stillest jest before a storm,” Ben Hawkins had been heard -to say, “and this here quiet is goin’ to make all we uns so careless -that the first thing we know some of us will turn up missin’.” - -And on the night following the day during which Tom Allison and Mark -Goodwin paid their visit to Buffum’s cabin, Ben came very near making -his words true by turning up missing himself. The camp regulations -required that every member should report at sunset, unless he had -received permission to remain away longer, and especially were the -foragers expected to be on hand to make preparations to go out again as -soon as night fell. Ben Hawkins was one of three who went out on the -night of which we write, and he came back shortly before daylight to -report that he had barely escaped surprise and capture in his father’s -house. - -“But I’ve got the grub all the same,” said he, placing a couple of -well-filled bags upon the ground near the tree under which he slept in -good weather. “I was bound I wouldn’t come without it, and that’s what -made me so late.” - -“Did you see them?” asked the refugees in concert. “Were they soldiers -from Williamston?” - -“Naw!” replied Hawkins in a tone of disgust. “They were some of Shelby’s -pesky Home Guards. Leastwise the two I saw were Home Guards, but I -wasn’t clost enough to recognize their faces. Now I want you all to -listen and ask questions next time you go out, and find, if you can, who -all is missin’ in the settlement. I had a tol’able fair crack at them -two, and I don’t reckon they’ll never pester any more of we uns.” - -The man Buffum was there and listening to every word, and he had so -little self-control that it was a wonder he did not betray himself. -Probably he would if it had not been that all the refugees showed more -or less agitation. - -“Didn’t I say that we uns would get too careless for our own good?” -continued Hawkins. “I’ve got so used to goin’ and comin’ without bein’ -pestered that I didn’t pay no attention to what I was doin’, and ’lowed -myself to be fairly ketched in the house. I’d ’a’ been took, easy as you -please, if I’d ’a’ had soldiers to deal with.” - -“Where are the two foragers who went out with you?” inquired Marcy. - -“Aint they got back yet?” exclaimed Hawkins, a shade of anxiety settling -on his bronzed features. “I aint seed ’em sence I left ’em up there at -the turn of the road, like I always do when we go after grub. They went -their ways and I went mine, and I aint seed ’em sence. What will you bet -that they aint tooken?” - -The refugees talked the matter over while they were eating breakfast and -anxiously awaiting the appearance of the missing foragers, and asked one -another if Mr. Hawkins would be likely to lose any buildings because Ben -had been detected in the act of carrying two bags of provisions from his -house. Ben said cheerfully that he did not look for anything else, and -that he expected to spend a good many nights in setting bonfires in -different parts of the settlement. No one hinted that this sudden -activity on the part of the Home Guards might be the result of a -conspiracy, and, so far as he knew, Marcy Gray was the only one who -suspected it. The houses toward which the foragers bent their steps, -when they separated at the turn, stood at least three miles apart and in -different directions, and it seemed strange to Marcy that those -particular houses should have been watched on that particular night. He -thought the matter would bear investigation, and with this thought in -his mind he set out immediately after breakfast, with the black boy -Julius for company, to see if any of the Home Guards had paid an -unwelcome visit to his mother since he took leave of her the day before. -On his way he passed through the field in which the overseer Hanson had -been taken into custody and marched off to Plymouth, and the negroes who -were at work there at once gathered around to tell him the news. Early -as it was, they had had ample time to learn all about it. - -“Did the Home Guards trouble my mother?” asked Marcy after listening to -their story. - -“No, sah; dey didn’t. But dey gobble up two of dem refugees so quick dey -couldn’t fight, but dey don’t git Moster Hawkins kase he too mighty -handy wid his gun.” - -“Do you know whether or not he shot any of them?” - -“We’s sorry to be ’bleeged to say he didn’t,” was the reply. “You want -to watch out, Marse Mahcy, an’ don’t luf nobody round hyar know when you -comin’ home nex’ time.” - -Marcy had already decided to follow this course, but he did not say -anything to the talkative darkies about it. If he had decided at the -same time that he wouldn’t mention it in camp, it would have been better -for him. - -While Marcy was visiting his mother (and all the while he was in her -presence there were four trusty negroes outside, watching the house), -Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin were trying to learn what had become of the -two refugees who had fallen into the hands of the Home Guards; and when -they found that both Beardsley and Shelby were absent from home on -business, they thought they knew. - -“They have been taken to jail,” said Mark, who was delighted over the -success of his plan, but angry at Beardsley because the latter did not -wait a few nights and make sure of Marcy Gray, instead of capturing two -men who were of no consequence one way or the other. “But between you -and me, I don’t envy the Home Guards the task they have set for -themselves. If all the refugees are like Hawkins somebody is going to -get hurt.” - -While Mark talked in this way he and Tom were riding toward Beardsley’s -plantation, and now they turned through his gate, passed the ruins of -his dwelling, and finally drew rein in front of the house in which the -overseer lived when Beardsley thought he could afford to hire one, but -which was now occupied by his own family. His daughter came to the door, -and the boys saw at once that she knew all about it. - -“Paw and Shelby has took them two fellers to Williamston,” she said in -her ordinary tone of voice, as though there was nothing secret in it. -“And they’re goin’ to bring some of our soldiers back with ’em, kase he -’lows, paw does, that it wouldn’t be safe for him and Shelby to fool -with Mahcy Gray. He’s got too many friends, and paw ’lows that he aint -got no more houses to lose.” - -Tom and Mark turned away without making any reply or asking any -questions. They did not want to hear any more. Beardsley had cautioned -them not to say a word about it, and here he had gone and told it to his -daughter, which was the same as though he had written out a full -description of Mark’s plan and put it on the bulletin-board in the -post-office. When Tom looked into his companion’s face he was surprised -to see how white it was. - -“Mark,” said he in a low whisper, “we’re in the worst scrape of our -lives, and if we come safely out of it I’ll promise that I will never -again try to interfere with Marcy Gray. He can go into the army or stay -out of it, just as he pleases. If he ever finds out what we have been up -to what will become of us?” - -“If he hasn’t found it out already it is his own fault,” replied Mark, -who had never before been so badly frightened. “Everybody in the -settlement knows it, and some enemy of ours will be sure to tell him. -Tom, I wish we had let him alone.” - -But Mark’s repentance came too late. The mischief had been done, and -Marcy Gray was industriously collecting evidence against him and his -companion in guilt. He had already heard enough to satisfy him on three -points: that the plan for capturing the refugees in detail originated -with Tom and Mark, that Captain Beardsley had undertaken to do the work, -and that at least one of the refugees was a traitor. But unfortunately -he shot wide of the mark when he began casting about for someone on whom -to lay the blame. He suspected one of Ben Hawkins’ comrades who had been -captured and parolled at Roanoke Island. There were seven of them, and -one of their number, beyond a doubt, had furnished the information that -enabled the Home Guards to capture the two men who had been taken to -Williamston. He never once suspected the man Buffum. If he had, he would -have dismissed the suspicion with a laugh, for everyone knew that Buffum -was too big a coward to take the slightest risk. - -When Marcy took leave of his mother he rode straight to Beardsley’s, and -was not very much surprised to learn that the captain had left home -early that morning to “’tend to some business over Williamston way.” His -ignorant daughter tried to be very secretive, and succeeded so well that -Marcy would have been stupid indeed if he hadn’t been able to tell what -business it was that took her father “over Williamston way.” Then he -changed the subject and surprised her into giving him some other -information. - -“Hawkins made a lively fight for the Home Guards last night, did he -not?” said Marcy. “How many of them did he kill?” - -“Nary one. Didn’t hit nary one, nuther,” answered the girl. “Paw ’lowed -that if Ben had had a gun he’d ’a’ hurt somebody; but he popped away -with a little dissolver, and you can’t hit nothin’ with a dissolver. -Mind you, I don’t know nothin’ about it only jest what the niggers told -me.” - -“Some folks might believe that story, but I don’t,” said Marcy to -himself, as he wheeled his horse and rode from the yard. “When the -darkies get hold of any news they don’t go to you with it.” - -From Beardsley’s Marcy went to Nashville, stopping as often as he met -anyone willing to talk to him, and going out of his way to visit the -homes of the two refugees who had been captured the night before, and -everywhere picking up little scraps of evidence against Tom, Mark, and -Beardsley; but everyone was so positive that there could not be a -traitor in the camp of the refugees, that Marcy himself began to have -doubts on that point. Ben Hawkins’ father and mother took him into the -house and showed him the chair in which Ben was sitting when four masked -men rushed into the room, two through each door, and tried to capture -him. - -“But my Ben, he aint a-skeered of no Home Guards,” said Mr. Hawkins -proudly. “Before you could say ‘Gen’ral Jackson’ with your mouth open, -he riz, an’ when he riz he was shootin’. An’ it would ’a’ done you good -to see the way them masked men humped themselves. They jest nacherly -fell over each other in tryin’ to get to the doors, an’ Ben, he made a -grab fur the nighest, thinkin’ to pull off the cloth that was over his -face, so’t we all could see who it was; but he couldn’t get clost -enough. Then Ben, he run too; but he come back after the grub. He said -he had been sent fur it an’ was goin’ to have it. Ben ’lowed that, if -they had been soldiers instead of Home Guards, we wouldn’t never seen -him no more.” - -“And I am afraid that we shall have to deal with soldiers from this time -on,” replied Marcy. “You wait and see if Beardsley doesn’t bring some -from Williamston when he comes back.” - -“That there man is buildin’ a bresh shanty over his head as fast as he -can,” said Mr. Hawkins. “He won’t have nary nigger cabin if this thing -can be proved on him.” - -“But there is going to be the trouble. We can’t prove it; and if some of -the Home Guards could be frightened into making a confession, Beardsley -would have no trouble in proving by his folks that he wasn’t outside of -his house last night.” - -It was five o’clock that afternoon when Marcy returned to camp and made -his report. He found there several refugees who had spent the day in the -settlement, and the stories they had to tell differed but little from -his own; but Marcy noticed that there wasn’t one who ventured to hint -that there was a spy and informer in the camp. Consequently he said -nothing about it himself, but quietly announced that he had concluded to -change his night for foraging. He did not hesitate to speak freely, for -he noticed that there was not a single parolled prisoner present. But -Buffum was there and heard every word. - -“It’s my turn to skirmish to-morrow night,” said he. “But with the -consent of all hands I think I will put it off until Monday night.” - -“You must have some reason for wanting to do that,” said Mr. Webster, -who you will remember was the man who guided Marcy to the camp on the -night Captain Beardsley’s schooner was burned. - -“I have a very good reason for it,” replied Marcy. “The prime movers in -this matter—Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin who got up the scheme, and -Beardsley who is carrying it out—are enemies of mine, and they would -rather see me forced into the army than anybody else.” And Marcy might -have added that they were after him and nobody else, and that when they -captured him the rest of the refugees would be permitted to live in -peace. - -“If that is the case, you ought not to go foraging at all,” said Mr. -Webster. - -“When I cast my lot with you I expected to share in all your dangers,” -said Marcy quietly. “It wouldn’t be right, but it would be cowardly for -me to remain safe in camp eating grub that others foraged at the risk of -being captured or shot, and I’ll not do it. I will do my part as I have -always tried to do, but I claim the right to bother my enemies all I can -by choosing my own time.” - -“That’s nothin’ more’n fair,” observed Buffum. “I’ll go in your place -to-morrer night an’ you can go in mine on Monday.” - -“All right,” said Marcy. “But don’t go near my mother’s house to-morrow. -It might be as dangerous for you as for me.” - -When all the refugees reported at sundown, as the camp regulations -required them to do, Marcy’s plan for escaping capture at the hands of -the Home Guards was explained to them, and it resulted, as Tom Allison -said it would, in a complete change in the camp routine. The plan -promised to work admirably. The three men composing the new detail which -went foraging that night made their way to their homes in safety, -visited a while with their families, and returned with a supply of -provisions without having seen any signs of the enemy; but the old -detail would surely have been captured, for their houses were watched -all night long, not by Home Guards, but by Confederate veterans who had -been sent from Williamston at Beardsley’s suggestion and Shelby’s. On -the night following Mrs. Gray’s house was not only watched but searched -from cellar to garret; but that was done simply to throw Marcy off his -guard, and we are sorry to say that it had the desired effect. The -Confederate soldiers knew they would not find Marcy that night, for -Captain Beardsley told them so; and Beardsley himself had been warned by -his faithful spy, Buffum, that Marcy would not go foraging again until -Monday night. By this time all the refugees became aware that there was -someone among them who could not be trusted, and the knowledge -exasperated them almost beyond the bounds of endurance. The danger was -that they might do harm to an innocent man, for they declared that the -smallest scrap of evidence against one of their number would be enough -to hang him to the nearest tree. - -“I can find that spy and will, too, if this thing goes on any longer,” -said Ben Hawkins, when he and Marcy and Mr. Webster were talking the -matter over one day. - -“Then why don’t you do it?” demanded Marcy. “It has gone on long enough -already.” - -“I’ll do it to-morrow night if you two will stand by me,” said Ben, and -Marcy had never heard him talk so savagely, not even when he threatened -to “twist” Tom Allison’s neck for calling him a coward. - -“We’ll stand by you,” said Mr. Webster; and although he did not show so -much anger, he was just as determined that the man who was trying to -betray them into the power of the Confederates should be severely -punished. “What are you going to do?” - -“I am going to pull that Tom Allison out of his bed by the neck, and say -to him that he can take his choice between givin’ me the name of that -traitor, an’ bein’ hung up to the plates of his paw’s gallery,” replied -Ben. - -“That’ll be the way to do it,” said Buffum, who happened to come up in -time to overhear a portion of this conversation. In fact Buffum was -always listening. He showed so great a desire to be everywhere at once, -and to know all that was going on, that it was a wonder he was not -suspected. But perhaps he took the best course to avoid suspicion. For a -man who was known to be lacking in courage, he displayed a good deal of -nerve in carrying out the dangerous part of Mark Goodwin’s programme -that had been assigned to him. - -“Will you help?” inquired Hawkins. - -“Well, no; I don’t know’s I want to help, kase you all might run agin -some rebels when you’re goin’ up to Allison’s house,” replied Buffum. -“I’d a heap ruther stay in camp. I never was wuth much at fightin’, but -I can forage as much grub as the next man.” - -There was another thing Buffum could do as well as the next man, but he -did not speak of it. He could slip away from camp after everybody else -was asleep or had gone out foraging, make his way through the woods to -Beardsley’s house, remain with him long enough to give the captain an -idea of what had been going on among the refugees during the day, and -return to his blanket in time to have a refreshing nap and get up with -the others; he had done it repeatedly, and no one was the wiser for it. -He slipped away that night after listening to Ben Hawkins’ threat to -hang Tom Allison to the plates of his father’s gallery, and perhaps we -shall see what came of it. - -Under the new rule it was Ben’s turn to go foraging that night, and he -went prepared for a fight. He was armed with three revolvers, Marcy’s -pair besides his own, and took with him two soldier comrades who could -be depended on in any emergency. They did not separate and give the -rebels opportunity to overpower them singly, but kept together, ready to -shoot or run as circumstances might require. They were not molested for -the simple reason that the Confederates, as we have said, were watching -other houses, knowing nothing of the new regulation that was in force. -They returned with an ample supply of food, and reported that Marcy’s -plan had thrown the enemy off the trail completely. - -The next day was Sunday, and Ben devoted a good portion of it to making -up for the sleep he had lost the night before, and the rest to selecting -and instructing the men that were to accompany him to Mr. Allison’s -house. There were nine of them, and with the exception of Mr. Webster -and Marcy they were all Confederate soldiers. This made it plain to -Marcy that Ben did not expect to find the traitor among the men who wore -gray jackets. They set out as soon as night fell, marching along the -road in military order, trusting to darkness to conceal their movements, -and moving at quick step, for Mr. Allison’s house was nearly eight miles -away. They had covered more than three-fourths of the distance, and Ben -was explaining to Marcy how the house was to be surrounded by a -right-and-left oblique movement, which was to begin as soon as the -little column was fairly inside Mr. Allison’s gate, when their steps -were arrested by a faint, tremulous hail which came from the bushes by -the roadside. In a second more half a dozen cocked revolvers were -pointed at the spot from which the voice sounded. - -“Out of that!” commanded Ben. “Out you come with a jump.” - -“Dat you, Moss’ Hawkins?” came in husky tones from the bushes. - -“It’s me; but I don’t know who you are, an’ you want to be in a hurry -about showin’ yourself. One—two——” - -“Hol’—hol’ on, if you please, sah. Ise comin’,” answered the voice, and -the next minute a badly frightened black man showed himself. “Say, Moss’ -Hawkins,” he continued, “whar’s you all gwine?” - -“I don’t know as that is any of your business,” answered Ben. - -“Dat I knows mighty well,” the darky hastened to say. “Black ones aint -got no truck wid white folkses business; but you all don’t want to go -nigher to Mistah Allison’s. Da’s a whole passel rebels up da’. I done -see ’em.” - -“What are they doin’ up there?” inquired Ben, who was very much -surprised to hear it. - -The black man replied that they were not doing anything in particular -the last time he saw them, only just loitering about as if they were -waiting for something or somebody. They hadn’t come to the house by the -road, but through the fields and out of the woods; and the care they -showed to keep out of sight of anyone who might chance to ride along the -highway, taken in connection with the fact that both Beardsley and -Shelby had been there talking to them, and had afterward left by the way -of a narrow lane that led to a piece of thick timber at the rear of the -plantation—all these things made the darkies believe that the rebels -were there for no good purpose, and so some of their number had left the -quarter as soon as it grew dark, to warn any Union people they might -meet to keep away from Mr. Allison’s house. - -“Well, boy, you’ve done us a favor,” said Ben, when the darky ceased -speaking, “and if I had a quarter in good money I would give it to you. -But there’s a bill of some sort in rebel money. It’s too dark to see the -size of it, but mebbe it will get you half a plug of tobacco. How many -rebs are there in the party?” - -“Sarvant, sah. Thank you kindly, sah,” said the black boy, as he took -the bill. “Da’s more’n twenty of ’em in de congregation, an’ all ole -soldiers. A mighty rough-lookin’ set dey is too.” - -“That’s the way all rebs look,” said Ben. “I know, for I have been one -of ’em. What do you s’pose brought the soldiers there?” - -The darky replied that he couldn’t make out why they came to the house; -but he knew that the officer in command had said something to Tom, in -the presence of his father and mother, that threw them all into a state -of great agitation. Tom especially was terribly frightened, and wanted -to ride over and pass the night with Mark Goodwin; but his father -wouldn’t let him go for fear something would happen to him on the road. - -“Well, Timothy——” began Ben. - -“Jake, if you please, sah,” corrected the negro. - -“Well, Jake, if you keep still about meetin’ us nobody will ever hear of -it. Off you go, now. The jig’s up, boys, an’ we might as well strike for -camp.” - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - SURPRISED AND CAPTURED. - -“I haven’t the least doubt but what the nigger told the truth,” -continued Ben Hawkins, as Mr. Allison’s black boy disappeared in the -darkness and his men gathered about him to hear what else he had to say. -“Everything goes to prove that we uns talked our plans over in the -presence of somebody who went straight to Beardsley an’ Shelby with it; -an’ them two went to work an’ brung soldiers enough up to Allison’s -house to scoop us all in the minute we got there. But we uns aint goin’ -to be scooped this night, thanks to that nigger. Twenty, or even six -veterans is too many fur we uns to tackle, ’specially sence some of us -aint never smelled much powder, an’ so we’re goin’ home. Now, who’s the -traitor, do you reckon?” - -There was no answer to this question. If the refugees suspected anybody, -they did not speak his name. It was a serious matter to accuse one of -their number, none of them were willing to take the responsibility, and -so they wisely held their peace. - -“We aint got no proof agin anybody,” continued Ben, “an’ I don’t know’s -I blame you all fur not wantin’ to speak out. But mind this: I shall -have an eye on everybody in camp—everybody, I said—an’ the fust one who -crooks his finger will have to tell a tol’able straight story to keep -out of trouble. Fall in, and counter-march by file, left. Quick time -now, an’ keep your guns in your hands, kase when them rebs up to the -house find that we uns aint goin’ to run into their trap, they may try -to head us off.” - -The return march was made in silence, each member of the squad being -engrossed with his own thoughts. Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin were -uppermost in their minds, and there was not one of the refugees who did -not tell himself that it would be better for the settlement if those two -mischief-makers were well out of it. They reached camp without any -trouble and reported their failure and talked about it as freely as -though they never suspected that there was somebody in their midst who -was to blame for it. Acting on the hint Ben Hawkins gave them the -parolled Confederates watched everybody, their comrades as well as the -civilians, and talked incessantly in the hope that the guilty one might -be led to betray himself by an inadvertent word or gesture; but they -paid the least attention to the man who could have told them the most -about it. Ben Hawkins would have suspected himself almost as soon as he -would have suspected Buffum. - -Monday evening came all too soon for Marcy Gray, who, with a feeling of -depression he had never before experienced, made ready to take his turn -at foraging. He announced that it was his intention to go to his -mother’s house alone, because one person might be able to approach the -dwelling unobserved, while three could not make a successful fight if -the enemy were on the watch. No one offered objection to this -arrangement, if we except the boy Julius, who positively refused to be -left behind, declaring that if his master would not take him to the -main-land in his boat, he would swim the bayou and follow him anyhow. - -When the time came for Marcy to start he shook hands with all the -refugees, Buffum included, and pushed off from the island alone. He -concealed his canoe when he reached the other shore and was about to -plunge into the woods, when a slight splashing in the water and the -sound of suppressed conversation came from the bank he had just left. At -least two or three persons were shoving off from the island to follow -him, and Marcy, believing that he could call them by name, waited for -them to come up. The night was so dark and the bushes so thick that his -friendly pursuers did not see him until the bow of their boat touched -the shore and they began to step out. - -“Now, Ben,” said Marcy reproachfully, “I shall feel much more at my ease -if you will turn around and go back.” - -“Oh, hursh, honey!” replied Julius. “We uns gwine fight de rebels, too.” - -“Don’t you know that if you and your friends are captured you will be -treated as deserters?” continued Marcy, addressing himself to Hawkins -and paying no attention to Julius. “You have been ordered to report for -duty and haven’t done it, and I suppose you know what that means.” - -“A heap better’n you do at this time, but not better’n you will if you -are tooken an’ packed off to Williamston,” answered Ben. “You’d die in -less’n a month if you was forced into the army, kase you aint the right -build to stand the hard knocks you’ll get. But we uns don’t ’low to be -took pris’ner or let you be took, either.” - -“I appreciate your kindness——” began Marcy. - -“You needn’t say no more, kase we uns has made it up to go with you, an’ -we aint goin’ to turn back,” interrupted Ben. “We uns will stay outside -the house an’ watch, an’ you can go in an’ get the grub. Pull the boat -ashore, boys, an’ shove her into the bresh out of sight.” - -There is no use in saying that Marcy did not feel relieved to know that -he would have four friends at his back if he got into trouble, because -he did. There were three Confederate veterans, and Julius made the -fourth friend; but Julius counted, for he had already proved that he was -worth something in an emergency. Marcy made no further effort to turn -them back, but shook them all warmly by the hand and led the way toward -his mother’s plantation. It took them two hours to reach it, for they -kept under cover of the woods as long as they could, and followed blind -ditches and brush-lined fences when it became necessary for them to -cross open fields, and so cautious were they in their movements that -when Ben came to a halt behind a rose-bush in full view of the great -house, he gave it as his opinion that an owl would not have seen or -heard them, if there had been one on the watch. - -“An’ although we uns aint seen no rebels, that don’t by no means prove -that there aint none around,” added Ben. “Marcy, you stay here, an’ the -rest of us will kinder sneak around t’other side the house an’ take a -look at things. Julius, you come with me, kase you know the lay of the -land an’ I don’t. You two boys go that-a-way; an’ if you run onto -anything don’t stop to ask questions, but shoot to kill. It’s a matter -of life an’ death with all of we uns, except the nigger.” - -Marcy’s friends moved away in different directions, and, when they were -out of sight and hearing, he walked around the rose-bush and sat down on -the ground so close to the house that he could recognize the servants -who passed in and out of the open door, through which a light streamed -into the darkness. He longed to call one of them to his hiding-place and -send a comforting message to the anxious mother, who he knew was waiting -for him in the sitting room, but he was afraid to do it. There wasn’t a -negro on the place who could be trusted as far as that. If he tried to -attract the notice of one of them, the darky would be sure to shriek out -with terror and seek safety in flight, and Marcy did not want to -frighten his mother. So he sat still and waited for Ben Hawkins, who, -after half an hour’s absence, returned with the gratifying intelligence -that the coast was clear, and Marcy could go ahead with his foraging as -soon as he pleased. - -“If there’s ary reb in this here garding he must be hid in the ground, -or else some of we uns would surely have stepped onto him,” said Ben. -“Beardsley didn’t look fur you to come to-night, an’ that’s all the -proof I want that we uns has got ahead of that traitor of ourn fur once, -dog-gone his pictur’.” - -“Where are the rest of the boys?” whispered Marcy. - -“They’re gardin’ three sides of the house, an’ when you go in I’ll stay -here an’ guard the fourth,” answered Ben. “Off you go, now. Crawl up.” - -Marcy lingered a moment to shake Ben’s hand, and then arose to his feet -and walked toward the house. If Ben’s report was correct there was no -need of concealment. He stopped on the way to speak to the darkies in -the kitchen, and his sudden appearance at the door threw them into the -wildest commotion. They made a simultaneous rush for the rear window, -intending to crawl through and take to their heels; but the sound of his -familiar voice reassured them. Raising his hand to silence their cries -of alarm Marcy said impressively: - -“Do you black ones want to see me captured by the rebels? Or do you want -to frighten my mother to death? If you don’t, keep still.” - -“Moss’ Mahcy,” protested the cook, who was the first to recover from her -fright, “dey aint no rebels round hyar. I aint seed none dis whole -blessed——” - -“For all that there may be some concealed in the garden and ready to -jump on me at any moment,” interrupted Marcy. “Now, don’t go to prowling -about. If you do you will be frightened again, for I have friends out -there in the bushes and you might run upon them in the dark.” - -So saying Marcy turned from the kitchen and went into the house, passing -on the way two large baskets which had been filled with food and placed -in the hall ready to his hand, so that there would be nothing to detain -him in so dangerous a place as his mother’s house was known to be. Mrs. -Gray came from the sitting room to meet him, for she heard his step the -moment he crossed the threshold. - -“O Marcy! I am so glad to see you, but I am almost sorry you came,” was -the way in which she greeted him. - -“Seen anything alarming?” inquired the boy. - -“No; and that very circumstance excites my suspicion. There are -Confederate soldiers in the neighborhood, for Morris saw several of them -in Nashville this morning. I shall never become accustomed to this -terrible way of living.” - -“No more shall I, but the only way to put a stop to it is to—what in the -world is that?” exclaimed Marcy; for just then a smothered cry of -astonishment and alarm, that was suddenly cut short in the middle, -sounded in the direction of the kitchen, followed by an indescribable -commotion such as might have been made by the shuffling feet of men who -were engaged in a hand-to-hand contest. A second afterward -pistol-shots—not one or a dozen, but a volley of them rattled around the -house, telling Marcy in plain terms that Ben Hawkins and his comrades -had been assailed on all sides. - -“O Marcy, they’ve got you!” cried Mrs. Gray; and forgetful of herself, -and thinking only of his safety, she flung her arms about his neck and -threw herself between him and the open door, protecting his person with -her own. - -“Not yet,” replied the boy between his clenched teeth. “I might as well -die here as in the army.” - -[Illustration: MARCY CAPTURED AT LAST.] - -Tightening his grasp on his mother’s waist Marcy swung her behind him -with one arm, at the same time reaching for the revolver whose heavy -butt protruded from the leg of his right boot; but before he could -straighten up with the weapon in his hand, two men in Confederate -uniform rushed into the room from the hall, and two cocked revolvers -were pointed at his head. Resistance would have been madness. The men -had him covered, their ready fingers were resting on the triggers, and -an effort on Marcy’s part to level his own weapon would have been the -signal for his death. These things happened in much less time than we -have taken to describe them, and all the while a regular fight, a sharp -one, too, had been going on outside the house, and with the rattle of -carbines and revolvers were mingled the screams of the terrified -negroes; but Marcy Gray and his mother did not know it. Their minds were -filled with but one thought, and that was that Beardsley had got the -upper hand of them at last. - -“If you move an eyelid you are a dead conscript,” said the foremost of -the two rebels at the door, and whom Marcy afterward knew as Captain -Fletcher. As he spoke he came into the room and took the revolver from -Marcy’s hand. - -“Captain, I see the mate to that sticking out of his boot,” said the -other soldier; and not until the captain had taken possession of that -revolver also did his comrade think it safe to put up his weapon. - -At this moment the firing outside ceased as suddenly as it had begun. -Captain Fletcher noticed it if Marcy did not, and ordered his man to “go -out and take a look and come in and report.” Then Marcy led his mother -to the sofa and sat down beside her, while the captain stood in the -middle of the room with his revolver in his hand and looked at him. - -“You’ve got me easy enough,” said Marcy, trying to put a bold face on -the matter. “And now I should like to know what you intend to do with -me.” - -“My orders are to take you to Williamston,” replied the captain, who -seemed to be a good fellow at heart. “I am sorry, but you would have -saved yourself and me some trouble if you had gone there the minute you -were conscripted.” - -“I never knew before that I had been conscripted,” answered Marcy. - -“Every man and boy in the Confederacy who is able to do duty must go -into the army,” said the captain slowly and impressively. “If he will -not go willingly he’ll be forced in.” - -“There are so many men and boys in the Confederacy who do not want to go -into the service that I should think it would take half your army to -hunt them up.” - -“It’s a heap of bother,” admitted the captain, “and it takes men we -cannot afford to spare from the front just now. Perhaps you had better -take a few clothes and a blanket with you; but I shall have to ask your -mother to get them, for I want you where I can keep an eye on you. -Captain Beardsley says——” - -“Go on,” said Marcy, when the captain paused and caught his breath. “You -can’t tell me anything about Beardsley that I don’t know already. He and -Shelby are at the bottom of this, and I am well aware of it. I don’t see -why you don’t hang those men. They have taken the oath of allegiance to -the United States Government.” - -“I don’t approve of anything like that, but all’s fair in war,” replied -the captain, who seemed to know all about it. “A loyal soldier wouldn’t -have done it, but Beardsley and Shelby are civilians and the Yanks -frightened them into it. However, they are working for our side as hard -as they ever did, and that’s about all we care for.” - -When the captain ceased speaking Mrs. Gray arose from the sofa and went -to Marcy’s room to pack a valise for him. There were no traces of tears -on her white, set face, and her step was as firm as it ever was. She was -bearing up bravely, for she had long schooled herself for just such a -scene as this. When she left the room the captain slipped his revolver -into its holster, took possession of an easy-chair, and leaned back in -it with a long-drawn sigh. - -“I’d rather face a dozen Yanks than one woman,” said he. “I hope she’ll -not break down when she bids you good-by.” - -“You need have no fears on that score,” answered Marcy. “I judge you -don’t like the unpleasant work you are engaged in any too well, and my -mother will do nothing to make it harder for you.” - -“You’re mighty right, I don’t like it,” said the captain emphatically. -“Any place in the world but an invalid corps. They have all the dirty -work to do. It suits some cowards, but I’d rather be at the front, and -there I hope to go next week. Well, corporal?” he added, turning to the -man he had sent out of the room a few minutes before. “How many of them -were there?” - -“A dozen or so, sir, judging by the fight they made and the work they -did,” replied the soldier. - -“Are you speaking of my friends?” inquired Marcy, who now remembered -that there had been something of a commotion outside the house. “Well, -there were just three of them, not counting an unarmed negro boy.” - -“Do you want me to believe that three conscripts could stand off twenty -old soldiers?” demanded the corporal. - -“Great Scott!” exclaimed Marcy, who was really surprised. “Did you bring -twenty men here to capture me? You are a brave lot.” - -“Braver than you who took to the woods to keep from going into the -army,” answered the angry corporal. “We can’t find hair nor hide of -them, sir,” he added, turning to his officer. “But they left us four -dead men to remember them by, and nary one wounded.” - -Marcy was horrified. Ben Hawkins had followed his own advice and shot to -kill. He was glad to hear the corporal say that his friends had managed -to escape in the darkness, but what effect would the gallant fight they -made have upon his own prospects? He was glad, too, that there was a -commissioned officer among his captors, for he did not like the way the -corporal glared at him. And finally, would his capture bring Tom Allison -and Mark Goodwin into trouble with the refugees? - -“It certainly did bring them into trouble,” interrupted Rodney. “They -were bushwhacked.” - -“How do you know?” demanded Marcy, starting up in his chair. - -“Jack said so in his last letter. And he said, further, that your good -friends Beardsley and Shelby, and one other whose name I have forgotten, -were burned out so clean that they didn’t have a nigger cabin left to -shelter them.” - -“Were Tom and Mark killed?” - -“I suppose they were, but Jack wasn’t explicit on that point. You would -be sorry to hear it, of course.” - -“I certainly would, for I used to be good friends with those boys before -a few crazy men kicked up this war and set us together by the ears,” -said Marcy sadly. “But they could blame no one but themselves. I wonder -that Beardsley wasn’t bushwhacked also.” - -Then Marcy settled back in his chair and went on with his story. He told -how he listened to the conclusion of the corporal’s report, during which -he learned, what he had all along more than half suspected, that the -Confederates had surrounded the house and were lying concealed in the -garden when he and his companions arrived. They saw Marcy’s friends -reconnoiter the premises, but made no effort to capture them for the -reason that they had received strict orders not to move until Captain -Fletcher gave the signal, which he did as soon as he saw Marcy enter the -house. He and the corporal lost no time in following and coming to close -quarters with him, for they knew they would find the boy armed, and that -it would be dangerous to give him a chance to defend himself. When they -left their place of concealment and ran around the kitchen, they -encountered Aunt Martha the cook, who saw and recognized their uniforms -as they passed her window, and started at the top of her speed for the -house, hoping to warn her young master so that he could escape through -the cellar, as he had done once before. But the corporal seized her, -promptly choked off the warning cry that arose to her lips, and then -began that furious struggle that had attracted Marcy’s attention. - -“She was strong and savage,” said the captain with a laugh, “and for a -time it looked as though she would get the better of both of us. If she -didn’t do that, I was afraid she would make such a fight that you would -hear it and dig out; but fortunately two of my men came to our aid just -in the nick of time.” - -“I hope you didn’t hurt her,” said Marcy. - -“I choked her into silence, you bet,” replied the corporal, who then -stated that the firing began when the Confederates rose to their feet -and tried to capture Marcy’s friends. They got more bullets than -captives, however, and the captain had four less men under his command -now than he had when the fight commenced. - -“You have wagons on the place, I suppose?” said the captain to Marcy, -when the corporal intimated by a salute that his report was ended. “Very -well. We’ll have to borrow one of them to take the bodies to -Williamston. I did intend to visit two other houses to-night, but I -shouldn’t make anything by it now, for of course the whole settlement -has been alarmed by the firing. Go and see about that wagon, corporal.” - -As the non-commissioned officer disappeared through one door Marcy’s -mother came in at another, carrying a well-filled valise in her hand. It -was not locked, and she opened and presented it for the captain’s -inspection. - -“There is nothing in it except a few articles which I know will be -useful to my boy while he is in the army,” said she. - -“That assurance is sufficient,” replied the captain. “Now, as soon as -the corporal reports that wagon ready, we will rid your house of our -unwelcome presence. I am sorry indeed that I had this work to do, but -the Yankees are to blame for it. If they hadn’t shot me almost to death -in the last battle I was in, I should now be at the front where I -belong. I wish your son might have got away, but I was ordered to take -him and I was obliged to do it.” - -“We have seen enough of this war to know that a soldier’s business is to -do as he is told, no matter who gets hurt by it,” said Marcy, speaking -for his mother, who seated herself on the sofa by his side and looked at -him as though she never expected to see him again. “I don’t mind telling -you, captain, that if I could have had my own way, I should have been -fighting under the Old Flag long ago.” - -“So I have heard; and there are a good many men in our army who think as -much of the Union as Abe Lincoln does,” answered the captain truthfully. -“But don’t say that again unless you know who you are talking to.” - -“Have you any idea where Marcy will be sent?” asked Mrs. Gray, speaking -with an effort. - -“Of course I don’t know for certain, but my impression is that he will -have to do guard duty somewhere. The authorities used to send conscripts -from this State to fill out North Carolina regiments in the field, but -they don’t trouble themselves to do it now. They put them on guard duty -wherever they want them, and send volunteers to the front.” - -“Let that ease your mind, mother,” said Marcy, with an attempt at -cheerfulness. “If I am to stay in the rear I shan’t have such a very -hard time of it.” - -The captain opened his eyes, smiled incredulously, and once or twice -acted as if he were on the point of speaking; but he thought better of -it, and just then the corporal returned to report that the men had been -called in and the wagon was waiting at the door. Captain Fletcher went -into the hall while Marcy took leave of his mother, and this gave the -latter opportunity to whisper in his ear, as her head rested on his -shoulder: - -“Be careful of that valise, and the first chance you get take the money -out of it. You will find one vest in there, and the gold is in the -right-hand pocket. O Marcy, this blow will kill me.” - -“You mustn’t let it. I shall surely return, and when I do I want you and -Jack here to welcome me.” - -The leave-taking was not prolonged,—it would have been torture to both -of them,—and when Captain Fletcher reached the carriage porch, where the -corporal stood holding three horses by the bridle, Marcy was at his -side. - -“Mount that horse and come on,” said the captain. “When we overtake the -wagon you can put your valise in it.” - -But that valise was much too valuable to be placed in the wagon, or -anywhere else that a thieving Confederate could get his hands on it, so -Marcy replied that if it was all the same to the captain he would tie it -to the horn of his saddle, where he could keep an eye on it. He mounted -the horse that was pointed out to him, kissed his hand to his mother, -said a cheery good-by to the weeping blacks, who had at last found -courage to come into the house, and rode on after the wagon, which had -by this time passed through the front gate into the road. Marcy was the -only prisoner the Confederates captured that night, and he had cost them -the lives of four men. The soldier who had once owned the horse he was -riding was one of the unfortunates. Marcy would have given much, to know -whether Ben Hawkins and his comrades escaped unscathed, but that was -something he never expected to hear, for he was by no means as sure that -he would come back to his home as he pretended to be. Others had been -killed, and what right had he to assume that he would escape? - -“This scout hasn’t amounted to a row of pins,” observed Captain -Fletcher, when he and Marcy came up with the wagon and rode behind it. -“I expected to find the country alive with Yankee cavalry and to fight -my way against a small army of refugees, who would ambush me from the -time I left Williamston till I got back. That is the reason I brought so -large a squad with me. I have been out four days, and what have I to -show for my trouble? Four dead men and three prisoners. I don’t like -such work, and shall get back to Virginia as soon as I can.” - -The captain relapsed into silence, and during the rest of the journey -Marcy was at liberty to commune undisturbed with his own gloomy -thoughts. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - IN WILLIAMSTON JAIL. - -“Fresh fish! where did you come from? Are you a deserter or a -conscript?” - -It was about two o’clock in the afternoon. Marcy Gray was in Williamston -jail at last, and this was the way he was welcomed when the heavy grated -door clanged behind him. Much to his relief he was not thrust into a -cell as he thought he would be, but into a large room which was already -so crowded that it did not seem as though there could be space for one -more. The inmates gathered eagerly about him, all asking questions at -once, and although some of them affected to look upon their capture and -confinement as a huge joke, Marcy saw at a glance that the majority were -as miserable as he was himself. While he told his story in as few words -as possible he looked around for the two foragers who had been captured -on the night that Ben Hawkins was surprised in his father’s house, and -failing to discover them he shouted out their names. They had had a few -days’ experience as prisoners, and could perhaps give him some needed -advice. - -“Oh, they’re gone,” said one. - -“Gone where?” inquired Marcy. - -“Nobody knows. This room was cleaned out on the very day they were -brought in, and your two friends went with the rest to do guard duty -somewhere down South. All of us you see here have been captured during -the last two or three days.” - -“How long do you think it will be before we will be shipped off?” - -“It won’t be long,” said the prisoner, “for this room is about as full -as it will hold. What are you anyway? Union or secesh?” - -Before Marcy could make any reply to this unexpected question, someone -who stood behind him gave him a gentle poke in the ribs. He took it for -a warning, as indeed it was intended to be, and turned away without -saying a word. The incident frightened him, for it proved that there -were some among the prisoners whom their companions in misery were -afraid to trust. He began to wonder how it would be possible for him to -secure possession of the gold pieces which his thoughtful mother had -placed in his vest pocket. There were some hard-looking fellows among -the prisoners, men of the Kelsey and Hanson stamp, and Marcy was not far -wrong when he told himself it would never do to let them know or suspect -that he was well supplied with good money. Holding fast to his blanket -and valise he freed himself from the crowd as soon as he could, and -taking his stand by an open grated window, began looking about in search -of a face whose owner seemed to him worthy of confidence; for Marcy felt -the need of a friend now as he had never felt it before. As good fortune -would have it, the first man who attracted his notice was Charley Bowen, -and he turned out to be the one who had given him the warning poke in -the ribs. His was an honest face if there ever was one, and Marcy liked -the way the man conducted himself. He took no part in the joking and -laughing. He looked as serious as Marcy felt, but did not seem to be -utterly cast down, as many of the prisoners were, because he knew he was -going to be forced into the army. When he saw that Marcy’s eyes were -fixed upon him with an inquiring look, he gradually worked his way out -of the crowd and came up to the window. - -“You look as though you had been used to better quarters than these and -better company, too,” was the way he began the conversation. - -“And so do you,” replied Marcy. - -“I never was shut up in jail before, if that is what you mean. You see I -don’t belong in this part of the country. I got this far on my way up -from Georgia, intending to get outside the Confederate lines if I could, -but I was gobbled at last, and within sight of the Union flag at -Plymouth.” - -“That was hard luck indeed,” answered Marcy. “You earned your freedom -and ought to have had it. Why, you must have travelled four or five -hundred miles. What excuse did the rebels make for arresting you?” - -“Don’t use that word here,” said the man hastily. “It’s dangerous. We -have the best of reasons for believing that there are spies among us -searching for deserters, and they will go straight to the guards with -every word you say. The man who asked if you are Union or secesh is one -of them.” - -“Why are they so anxious to find deserters?” asked Marcy. - -“To make an example of them, I suppose. At any rate the guards took a -deserter out of this room on the day I came, and we’ve never seen him -since. The men who captured me did not make any excuse for holding me, -if that was the question you were going to ask. They simply said that I -couldn’t be of any use to the Yanks in Plymouth, but could be of a good -deal of use in the Confederate army, and so they brought me along. Who -are you? and what’s your name?” - -Marcy had not talked with the man very long before he made up his mind -that he had found the friend he needed; but still he was afraid to trust -him too far on short acquaintance. He told Bowen that he was neither a -deserter nor a conscript, but a refugee, and owed his capture to -personal enemies, who would be sure to suffer for it sooner or later; -but he did not say that he intended to escape if his captors gave him -half a chance, or that he had some good money in his valise. -Consequently he was not a little surprised and alarmed when Bowen turned -his back to the rest of the prisoners, and said in an earnest whisper: - -“Have you been searched?” - -“No,” answered Marcy. “What will I have to be searched for? My mother -presented my valise for Captain Fletcher’s inspection, but he was -gentleman enough to say he wouldn’t look into it.” - -“Well, you’ll be searched, and that too just as soon as old Wilkins -learns something of the circumstances under which you were captured,” -continued Bowen in the same earnest whisper. “It don’t stand to reason -that your mother would have packed your carpetbag without slipping in a -little money, if she had any, and Wilkins is hot after money.” - -“Who is Wilkins, anyhow?” - -“The Confederate captain who commands here, and he’s a robber. He goes -through every man who comes into the jail, and you will not escape. Why, -he was mean enough to take three dollars in scrip from me. He said I -would have no use for money, for the government would furnish me with -grub and clothes. If you’ve got anything you want to save you’d better -let me have it.” - -“But how do I know that it will be any safer with you than it is with -me?” demanded Marcy. “What assurance have I that you will give it back -when I want it?” - -“You haven’t any. You’ll have to take my word for it.” - -This was honest at any rate, and something prompted Marcy to take out -the key of his valise and slip it into Bowen’s hand. - -“Look for my vest and feel in the right-hand pocket,” he whispered; and -then he turned around to engage the nearest of the prisoners in -conversation and draw their attention away from Bowen if he could. It -looked like a hopeless task. The room was so full that it did not seem -possible that any of its inmates could make a move without being seen by -somebody; but as soon as he showed a disposition to talk he found plenty -ready and eager to listen, for he was the last arrival and brought the -latest news from the outside world. He kept as many as could crowd -around him interested for perhaps five minutes, and then his narrative -was brought to a close by a commotion in the farther end of the room and -the entrance of a Confederate corporal, who elbowed his way into the -crowd, calling for Marcy Gray. - -“Here!” replied the owner of that name. “What do you suppose he wants of -me?” he added in an undertone. - -“Most likely he wants to take your descriptive list,” said one of the -prisoners, with a wink at his companions. - -“But that was done when I came in,” said Marcy. - -“Did old Wilkins do it?” said the conscript. “I don’t reckon he did, for -he has been off somewhere since morning. If he’s got back he will want -to see you himself.” - -That somebody wanted to see him was made plain to Marcy in a very few -seconds, for the corporal worked his way through the crowd until he -caught sight of the new prisoner, who was ordered to pick up his plunder -and “come along down to the office”; and, what was more, the corporal -watched him to see that he did not leave any of his “plunder” behind. - -“That proves that the descriptive list of your valise hasn’t been -taken,” whispered one of the prisoners, as Marcy followed the corporal -toward the door. - -When he picked up his valise he noticed that the key was in the lock, -and of course Bowen must have put it there; but whether he had had time -to examine the vest and find the precious gold pieces was a question -that could not be answered now. “Old Wilkins” would no doubt answer it -in about five minutes, was what Marcy said to himself, as he followed -his guide down a flight of stairs into a wide hall, which was paved with -brick and lined on both sides with dark, narrow cells. Marcy shuddered -when he glanced at the pale, hollow-eyed captives on the other side of -the grated doors, who crowded up to look at him as he passed along the -hall. - -“Who are these?” he whispered to his conductor. - -“Deserters and the meanest kind of Yankee sympathizers,” was the answer. -“Men who give aid and comfort to the enemy while honest soldiers are -risking their lives at the front.” - -“What’s going to be done with them, do you know?” - -“The deserters will be shot, most likely, and every one of the rest -ought to be hung. That’s what would be done with them if I had my way.” - -Marcy’s heart sank within him. If the corporal could have his way what -would be done with _him_? was the question that came into his mind. He -had not only given aid and comfort to the Federals but had served on one -of their gunboats; and how did he know but that the commander of the -prison would order him into one of those crowded cells after he had -taken the descriptive list of his valise, or, in plain English, had -robbed it of everything of value? While Marcy was thinking about it the -corporal pushed open a door and ushered him into the presence of Captain -Wilkins, who sat tilted back in a chair, with his feet on the office -table and a cob pipe in his mouth. Although he was resplendent in a -brand-new uniform he did not look like a soldier, and Marcy afterward -learned that he wasn’t. He was a Home Guard, and would have been a -deserter if he had seen the least prospect before him of being ordered -to the front. - -“Private Gray, sir,” said the corporal, waving his hand in Marcy’s -direction. - -His interview with Captain Wilkins, of whom he had already learned to -stand in fear, was not a long one, but it did much to satisfy Marcy that -the man was not as well acquainted with his history as he was afraid he -might be. His first words, however, showed that he knew all about the -fight that had taken place in Mrs. Gray’s door-yard when the boy was -captured. - -“So you are the chap who cost the lives of some of my best men, are -you?” said he, after he had given Marcy a good looking over. “Do you -know what I have a notion to do with you?” - -Marcy replied that he did not, being careful to address the captain as -“sir,” for he knew it would be folly to irritate such a man as he was. -He expected to hear him declare that he would put him into the dungeon -and keep him there on bread and water as long as he remained in the -jail; but instead of that the captain said: - -“I would like to send you to the field without an hour’s delay, so that -the Yankees could have a chance at you. There’s where such cowards as -you belong. Why didn’t you come in when you knew you had been -conscripted and save me the trouble of sending for you?” - -“I didn’t know it, sir,” replied Marcy. - -“Well, it was your business to know that every able-bodied man in the -Confederacy has been placed absolutely under control of our President -while the war lasts,” continued the captain. “You were mighty good to -yourself to stay at home living on the fat of the land, while your -betters are fighting and dying for the flag, but I’ll put you where you -will see service; do you hear? How many more men are there in that camp -of refugees up there?” - -“About twenty, sir,” answered Marcy. - -“Twenty more cowards shirking duty!” exclaimed the captain, taking his -feet off the table and banging his fist upon it. “But I’ll have them out -of there if it takes every man I’ve got; do you hear? I say I’ll have -them out of that camp and into the army, where they will be food for -powder. Let me see your baggage.” - -As Captain Wilkins said this he nodded to the corporal, who seized -Marcy’s valise and turned its contents upon the floor. There were not -many things brought to light—only an extra suit of clothes, two or three -handkerchiefs, as many shirts and pairs of stockings, and a pair of -shoes; but each of these articles was carefully examined by the -corporal, who went about his work as though he was used to it, as indeed -he was. He had examined a good deal of luggage for the captain, who had -nothing to say when he saw him confiscate any article of clothing that -struck his fancy, or which he thought he could sell or trade to his -comrades of the Home Guards. Marcy caught his breath when he saw the -corporal run his fingers into the right-hand pocket of the vest in which -his mother had placed the gold pieces, and felt much relieved when the -soldier did not pull out anything. Then his blanket, which Marcy had -rolled up and tied with strings so that he could sling it over his -shoulder, soldier fashion, was shaken out, but there was not a thing in -it to reward the corporal’s search. The latter looked disappointed and -so did Captain Wilkins, who commanded Marcy to turn all his pockets -inside out. He did so, but there was nothing in them but a broken -jack-knife that was not worth stealing. - -“You must be poor folks up your way,” said the captain. “Where’s your -scrip?” - -“I haven’t a dollar’s worth of scrip, sir,” said Marcy truthfully. “In -fact I’ve seen little of it during the war.” - -It never occurred to Captain Wilkins to ask if Marcy had seen any other -sort of money, for gold was something he had not taken from the pockets -of a single conscript. He put his feet on the table again, touched a -lighted match to his pipe, and told Marcy that he could go back -upstairs. Glad to escape so easily the boy tumbled his clothing into his -valise, gathered up his blanket, and went; and the sentry who stood in -the hall at the head of the stairs opened the door for him. - -“What did you have? What did you lose?” were the questions that arose on -all sides when he entered the room he had left a few minutes before. - -“Not a thing,” answered Marcy, glancing at Charley Bowen, who stood -among the prisoners, looking as innocent and unconcerned as a man could -who had almost a hundred dollars in gold in his pocket. “And they gave -my things a good overhauling, too.” - -“What did you do with your scrip, anyway? Put it in your shoe?” - -“I didn’t have any,” said Marcy. “If I had the corporal would have found -it sure, for he turned everything inside out.” - -Marcy elbowed his way to the nearest window to roll up his blanket and -repack his valise, and after a while Bowen came up. - -“If it hadn’t been for you they would have stolen me poor,” Marcy found -an opportunity to whisper to him. “They are nothing but robbers.” - -“What did I tell you?” replied Bowen. “Put your hand into my -coat-pocket, and you will find it safe; but I warn you that you will -lose it if you don’t watch out. There are some among the prisoners who -would steal it in a minute if they got a good chance. What do you intend -to do with it anyway?” he added, after Marcy had transferred the gold -coins to his own pocket without attracting anybody’s attention. “The -first time you try to spend any of it, someone will rob you.” - -“It may come handy some day,” whispered Marcy. “Since you have showed -yourself to be a true friend I don’t mind telling you that I don’t mean -to serve under the rebel flag a day longer than I am obliged to.” - -“Are you going to make a break?” said Bowen eagerly. - -“I am, if I see the ghost of a show.” - -“You’re a boy after my own heart, and if you want good company I will go -with you.” - -Nothing could have suited Marcy Gray better. The fact that Bowen had -travelled hundreds of miles through a country that was in full -possession of the enemy, and had even come within sight of the Union -lines before he was captured, proved that he was not only a brave and -persevering man, but that he was skilled in woodcraft as well; and such -a man would be an invaluable companion if they could only manage to -escape at the same time. Bowen said it would be impossible for them to -escape from the jail, for in addition to the sentry, who stood in the -hall and could look through the grated door into the room and see every -move that was made among the prisoners, the building was surrounded by -guards every night. It would be folly for them to make the attempt until -they were certain of success, for no man in the rebel army ever deserted -more than once. - -“But whether we escape in one month or two we’ll have something to think -about and live for, so that our minds will not be constantly dwelling -upon our misfortunes; and that’s a great thing in a case like this, I -tell you,” said Bowen. “We must keep up a brave heart by thinking about -pleasant things, or else it will not be long before we shall be moping -like those poor fellows over there in the corner. They’re all the time -worrying, and the first they know they will be down sick.” - -“I suppose that is the right way to do, but it is awful hard for a -conscript to be jolly,” said Marcy, who was thinking of his mother and -of Jack, whom he might never see again. - -“I know it; but it is the only way for us to do if we want to keep on -our feet.” - -When five o’clock came and the long table which occupied the middle of -the room had been cleared of the men who had been sitting and lying upon -it, and the supper was brought in, Marcy Gray began to realize that -being shut up in jail meant something. While Bowen talked he had been -slowly working his way through the crowd toward the table, and now Marcy -saw what his object was in doing it. The supper, which consisted of bean -soup and corn bread, was brought in in small wooden tubs which were -placed upon the table, together with a sufficient number of pans and -spoons to accommodate about half the prisoners at once. No sooner had -these pans and spoons been set on the table than Bowen seized two of -them as quick as a flash, and filled the pans with soup with one hand, -while he passed Marcy a generous piece of corn bread with the other. - -“Now get over there by the window before somebody jostles you and spills -it all,” said he; and although Marcy, acting upon the suggestion, -succeeded in reaching the window without losing his supper, it was not -owing to any consideration that was shown him by the prisoners, who made -a regular charge upon the table, pushing and crowding, and acting -altogether like men who were more than half famished. Marcy said, in a -tone of disgust, that they reminded him of a lot of pigs. - -“I don’t know’s I blame them,” said Bowen, swallowing a spoonful of his -soup with the remark that it was somewhat better than common. “You will -soon learn to push and shove with the rest.” - -“I hope not,” replied Marcy. - -“Then you’ll have to eat out of a dirty dish; that’s all.” - -“Do you mean to say that someone will have to use this pan and spoon -after I get through with them?” - -“That’s just what I mean. You see there are not more than half enough to -go around.” - -“Well, why don’t they wash them?” - -“Too much trouble, I suppose. And besides, anything is good enough for a -conscript.” - -Marcy did not in the least enjoy his supper. The soup was so badly -smoked that it was not fit to eat, and the corn bread was not more than -half baked. More than that, one of the prisoners urged him to make haste -and “get away with that soup,” for he wanted the pan as soon as he could -have it. - -“Don’t mind him,” said Bowen. “Take your time. That’s the way they will -all serve you when you get left.” - -Up to this time Marcy Gray had not been troubled very much with the -pangs of home-sickness. One seldom is when the bright sun is shining and -he can see what is going on around him. It is when the quiet of night -comes and everybody else is asleep that the young soldier thinks of home -and the friends he has left behind him. It was so with Marcy Gray at any -rate. When the supper dishes had been removed, and somebody had touched -a match to a couple of sputtering candles which threw out just light -enough to show how desolate and cheerless the big room really was, and -the prisoners began arranging their blankets and quilts, and the joking -and laughing ceased, then it was that Marcy’s fortitude was put to the -test. He thought of his mother, of Jack, and Ben Hawkins, who had proved -so stanch a friend to him, and told himself that he would never see them -again. He had heard that nostalgia (that is the name the doctors give to -homesickness) killed people sometimes, and he was sure it would kill him -before the month was ended. - -“What are you doing at that window?” demanded Bowen, breaking in upon -his revery. - -“I am watching the sentry in the yard below,” answered Marcy. “I wish I -was in his place. It wouldn’t take me long to slip away in the darkness -and draw a bee-line for home.” - -“Well, you just let that sentry alone and come here and lie down,” said -Bowen. - -“What’s the use? I can’t go to sleep.” - -“You can and you must. Sleep and eat all you can, hold your thoughts -under control, and so keep up your strength. Come here and lie down.” - -Marcy knew that Bowen’s advice was good, but it was hard to follow it. -Reluctantly he stretched himself upon the man’s blanket,—there was no -room on the floor for him to spread his own,—pulled his valise under his -head for a pillow, and listened while Bowen told of some exciting and -amusing incidents that had fallen under his observation while he was -trying to reach the Union lines. On three occasions, he said, he had -acted as guide to small parties of escaped Federals who were slowly -working their way out of Dixie, but somehow he never could induce them -to remain very long in his company. - -“They had the impudence to tell me that I didn’t know anything about the -geography of my own State,” said Bowen in an injured tone. - -“That’s what I think myself,” replied Marcy. “Whatever put it into your -head to come away up here to North Carolina, when you might have taken a -short cut to the coast?” - -“There you go just like the rest of them,” said Bowen. “It shows how -much you know of the situation down South. The Confederacy is like an -empty egg-shell. There’s nothing on the inside—no soldiers to be afraid -of—nothing but niggers, who are only too glad to feed and shelter a -Union man. You’re safe while you stay on the inside, but the minute you -try to get out is when the danger begins, for there’s the shell in the -shape of the armies by which the Confederacy is surrounded. There was no -need of my being captured, and that’s what provokes me. When I caught -sight of the Union flag in Plymouth I thought I was safe and so, instead -of keeping to the woods, I came out and followed the road; and here I -am. If I had held to the course that I followed all through my long -journey, I’d have been among the boys in blue now instead of being shut -up in jail.” - -“Did old Wilkins conscript you?” - -“The minute I struck the jail. He took my descriptive list, robbed me of -the little money I had left, and told me I could make up my mind to -fight until the Confederates gained their independence.” - -“You’ll die of old age before that day comes,” said Marcy. - -“That’s what I think, and it’s what more than half the people down South -think. There are men and boys in the Confederate army who are as strong -for the Union as Abe Lincoln is; but if they said so, or if they shirked -their duty, they would be shot before they saw another sun rise. Now, if -they put you and me on guard duty at one of their prison pens we’ll not -stay there any longer than we feel like it.” - -Bowen continued to whisper in this encouraging strain until long after -the rest of the prisoners were wrapped in slumber; and finally Marcy’s -eyes grew heavy and he fell asleep himself. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - THE PRISON PEN. - -When Marcy Gray awoke the next morning he made the mental resolution -that from that time forward, no matter what happened or how homesick he -might be, he would follow Bowen’s advice and example to the letter, eat -and sleep all he could and keep up a brave heart, so as to be in -readiness to improve the first opportunity for escape that presented -itself. Fortunately some things occurred that made it comparatively easy -for him to hold to his resolve for a few days at least. After some more -smoked bean soup and half-baked corn bread had been served for breakfast -(and this time Marcy did just what Bowen said he would, and pushed and -crowded with the rest in order to get a clean pan to eat from), the -grated door that led into the hall was thrown open and the commander of -the prison appeared on the threshold with Captain Fletcher at his side. -The latter held in his hand the book in which Marcy had seen his name -and descriptive list entered the day before. A hush of expectancy fell -upon the prisoners, who surged toward the door in a body. Something out -of the ordinary was about to happen, and they were impatient to know -what it was. - -“Get back there!” shouted Captain Wilkins. “You seem to be in a mighty -hurry to leave these good quarters, but some of you will wish yourselves -back here before many days have passed over your heads.” - -These words had a depressing effect upon some of the prisoners, but they -were very cheering to Marcy Gray and his friend Bowen. The captain made -it plain that they were to be sent off in some direction, and anything -was better than being shut up in that gloomy jail. - -“As fast as your names are called pick up your plunder and go down into -the yard and fall in for a march of seventy-five miles,” continued the -captain. “That will be your first taste of a soldier’s life.” - -“Seventy-five miles,” repeated Marcy. “We must be going to Raleigh, and -from there it is about a hundred miles by rail to Salisbury. By -gracious, Bowen, if they send us there I’ll not be much over two hundred -miles from home.” - -“I hope they’ll not separate us,” was the reply. “That’s what I am -afraid of now.” - -Captain Fletcher called off the names as they were written in his book, -and the prisoners one after another disappeared down the stairs. Some -responded with a cheerful “here,” and walked as briskly as though they -were going home instead of into the army, while others answered in -scarcely audible tones and moved with slow and reluctant steps. When -Bowen’s name was called he lingered long enough to give Marcy’s hand a -friendly squeeze, and when he passed through the door out of sight he -seemed to have taken all the boy’s courage with him; but when his own -name was called a few minutes later, Marcy was himself again. He went -into the jail yard and fell into the line that was being formed there -under command of an officer he had not seen before. On the opposite side -of the yard was a company of soldiers, veterans on the face of them, who -were standing at “parade rest,” and Marcy straightway concluded that -they were the men who were to guard the prisoners during the march. -Marcy hoped they would continue to act in that capacity as long as an -escort was needed. He wasn’t afraid of veterans, but he did not want any -Home Guards put over him. - -“What have you got in your grip?” inquired the officer, as Marcy fell -into his place in line. - -“Clothing, sir,” answered the boy, holding out the valise as if he -thought the officer wished to inspect it. - -“I am willing to take your word for it,” said the latter, who no doubt -knew that Captain Wilkins had given the valise a thorough examination. -“I was going to suggest that you had better wrap its contents in your -blanket and leave the grip behind. It will only be in your way, and you -don’t want too much luggage on the march.” - -Marcy thought the suggestion a good one, and with the officer’s -permission he fell out long enough to act upon it. By the time he took -his place in line again the prisoners who were to be sent away were all -assembled in the yard, and the commander and Captain Fletcher had come -out of the jail. The few unfortunates who remained behind were suspected -of being deserters, and they were to be detained until their record -could be investigated. Captain Fletcher handed his book to the strange -officer, who proceeded to call the roll a second time, for he had to -receipt for the men committed to his care as if they had been so many -bags of corn. When this had been done the prisoners were marched through -the gate into one of Williamston’s principal streets, the guards with -loaded muskets on their shoulders fell in on both sides of them, and -their weary journey, which was to end at a point more than three hundred -miles away, was fairly begun. - -They were nearly three weeks on the road, and during that time not an -incident happened that was worthy of record. Marcy afterward said that -all he could remember was that he was hungry all the time, and too tired -and sleepy to think of escape, even if it had been safe to attempt it. -Their veteran guards, who accompanied them no farther than Raleigh, told -them that from that point they would travel by rail, and so they did as -far as the rails went; but miles of the road-bed had to be traversed on -foot because the road itself had been torn up by raiding parties of -Union cavalry, who, after heating the rails red-hot, had wrapped them -around trees or twisted them into such fantastic shapes that nothing but -a rolling-mill could have straightened them out again. - -At Raleigh a company of militia took charge of the conscripts (that was -what everyone called them and what they called themselves now), and then -their sufferings began. Their new guards were absolutely without -feeling. The commanding officer either could not or would not keep them -supplied with food, nor would he permit them to leave the ranks long -enough to get a drink of water. Marcy, who found it hard to keep up -under such circumstances, wanted to try what power there might be in one -of his gold pieces, but Bowen would not listen to it. - -“Not for the world would I have these ruffians know that you have good -money in your pocket,” said he earnestly. “They would make some excuse -to shoot you in order to get it. Hold fast to every dollar of it, for -you will see the time when you will need it worse than you think you do -now.” - -It was not until they arrived within a few miles of their destination -that Marcy and his companions learned where they were going, and what -they were expected to do when they got there. Some of the militia who -were doing guard duty at the Millen prison pen had been ordered to -Savannah, and the conscripts were to take their places; but beyond the -fact that Millen was situated somewhere in the eastern part of Georgia, -a few miles south of Waynesborough, their ignorant guards could not tell -them a thing about it. - -“It must be pretty close to the coast, and that’s the way we’ll go when -we get ready to make a break,” said Marcy. - -“And what would we do if we succeeded in reaching the coast?” demanded -Bowen. “It would be the worst move we could make, for it would take us -right into danger. There are no Union war ships stationed off the -Georgia coast, and even if there were, how could we get out to them? No, -sir. We’ll go the other way and strike for the Mississippi.” - -“And cross three States?” exclaimed Marcy, astounded at the proposition. -“Why, it must be four or five hundred miles in a straight line.” - -“No matter if it’s a thousand,” said Bowen obstinately. “We’ll be safe -if we go that way, and we’ll be captured and shot if we go the other. If -we can only pass Macon I’ll be among friends.” - -“And if we can strike the Mississippi about Baton Rouge _I_ would be -among friends,” said Marcy. “But across three States that are no doubt -infested with Home Guards and bloodhounds! Bowen, you’re crazy.” - -“Not so crazy as you will show yourself to be if you try to reach the -coast,” was the reply. “But we haven’t started yet, and you will have -plenty of time to think it over and decide if you will go with me or -strike out by yourself.” - -This conversation had a disheartening effect upon Marcy, who knew that -if his clear-headed companion left him to take care of himself, his -chances for seeing home and friends again were very slim indeed. While -he was thinking about it, and trying to grasp the full meaning of the -words “across three States infested with Home Guards and bloodhounds,” -the train stopped at Millen Junction and the conscripts were ordered to -disembark. As fast as they left the cars they were drawn up in line near -the depot, which was afterward burned by Sherman’s cavalry, and the roll -was called. After that they were formally turned over to the commander -of the prison, who was there to receive them, and marched out to the -stockade. Marcy had just time to note that it was a gloomy looking place -and that a deep silence brooded over it, before he was marched into the -fort, whose cannon commanded the prison at all points. There they were -divided into messes and assigned to quarters, with the understanding -that they were to go on duty the next morning at guard-mount. The -barracks were crowded when Marcy first went into them, but some of the -militia were ordered to Savannah that afternoon, and when they were gone -he and Bowen were able to find a bunk. They had managed to be put into -the same mess, and that was something to be thankful for. - -So far the conscripts had nothing to complain of. Their supper was -abundant and passably well cooked, and it was delightful to know that -they could get a drink of water when they wanted it, without asking -permission of some petty tyrant who was quite as likely to refuse as he -was to grant the request. But Marcy looked forward with some misgivings -to guard-mount the next morning. The idea of putting raw recruits -through that complicated ceremony was a novel one to him, and although -he had no fears for himself, he was afraid that the awkwardness of some -of his companions would bring upon them the wrath of the adjutant; that -is, if the latter was at all strict, and liked to see things done in -military form. Before he went to his bunk, however, he found that he had -little to fear on that score. A sergeant came into the barracks with a -paper in his hand, and began warning the recruits for guard duty the -next day, ordering them to fall in line in front of him as fast as their -names were called. Marcy’s was one of the first on the list, and when it -was read off he stepped promptly to his place, dressed to the right, and -came to a front. The sergeant, who knew a well-drilled man when he saw -him, was surprised. He looked curiously at Marcy for a moment, and then -went on calling off the names of the guard. - -“I’ll bet I made a mistake in showing off that way,” thought Marcy. “As -soon as this company is organized they will take me out of the ranks and -make me a corporal or something, and that would be a misfortune, for I -shouldn’t have half the chance to talk to Bowen that I’ve got now.” - -There were forty recruits warned for duty, and when they were all -standing before him the sergeant said that when they heard the bugle -sound the adjutant’s call at nine o’clock in the morning, they would be -expected to assemble on the parade ground, and when they got there they -would be armed and told what to do. Then, having performed his duty, the -sergeant faced them to the right and broke ranks, at the same time -looking hard at Marcy and jerking his head over his shoulder toward the -door. Marcy followed him when he left the barracks, and when they were -out of hearing of everybody the sergeant said: - -“Where have you been drilled?” - -“At the Barrington Military Academy. I was there almost four years. But -don’t say anything about it, will you?” - -“You’re sure you’re not a deserter?” continued the sergeant. - -“No!” gasped Marcy. “I am a refugee. I haven’t even been conscripted. I -was arrested in my mother’s presence and shoved into Williamston jail; -and if I were a deserter, don’t you suppose Captain Wilkins would have -known it? What put that into your head?” - -“Oh, I saw you had been drilled somewhere, and I didn’t know but it was -in the army. If that was the case you would be in a bad row of stumps -among these Home Guards. If one of them could prove that you are a -deserter he would get a thirty days’ furlough.” - -“And what would be done with me?” - -“I am sure I don’t know, but nobody would ever see you again after -General Winder got his hands on you.” - -“Who is General Winder?” inquired Marcy. - -“He is the officer who has charge of all the Southern prisons, and it is -owing to him that the Yanks are starving and dying by scores right here -in this stockade,” said the sergeant bitterly. - -“Starving and dying by scores!” ejaculated Marcy, who had never heard of -such a thing before. - -“That’s what I said. There were twenty-three bodies brought through that -gate yesterday, and eighteen this morning.” - -“Why, that’s brutal! it’s downright heathenish!” exclaimed Marcy. - -“Well, we can’t give them what we haven’t got, can we?” demanded the -sergeant. “Winder could send us grub if he wanted to——” - -“I know he could,” interrupted Marcy. “There’s plenty of it along the -road between here and Raleigh. I saw it.” - -“But as long as he doesn’t see fit to forward it we can’t issue it to -the prisoners,” added the sergeant. “You don’t want some Home Guard to -report to him that you are a deserter, do you?” - -“I should say not,” exclaimed Marcy. “If that’s the sort of a brute he -is, I would stand no show at all with him. But no one can prove that I -have ever been in the army before.” - -“They might put you to some trouble to prove that you haven’t, and my -object in bringing you out here was to warn you that you’d better not -throw on any military airs while you stay in this camp.” - -“I am very grateful to you,” replied Marcy, who did not expect to find a -sympathizing friend in a rebel non-commissioned officer. “You are not a -Home Guard?” - -“Not much. I was one of the first men in our county to volunteer, but I -couldn’t stand hard campaigning, and so I asked to be put on light duty, -and I had influence enough to carry my point. But I would have stayed in -the army till I died if I had dreamed that I would be sent to help guard -a slaughterhouse; for that is just what this stockade is. The commander -is nothing but a Home Guard, but he hates conscripts as bad as he does -Yankees, and you want to watch out and do nothing to incur his -displeasure.” - -“I don’t know how to thank you——” began Marcy. - -“That’s all right. I knew as soon as I looked at you that you are as -much out of place here as I am, and I don’t want to see you get into -trouble. Of course you won’t repeat what I have said to you.” - -“Not by a long shot. You have done me too great a favor.” - -The two separated, and Marcy went into the barracks and sought his bunk, -feeling as if he were in some way to blame for the sufferings of the -Union soldiers who were confined within the stockade. That they should -be allowed to perish for want of food, when there was an abundance of it -scattered along the line of the railroad within easy reach of the -prison, seemed so terrible to Marcy that he could not dismiss it from -his mind so that he could go to sleep. He did not then know that the -Confederate commissary was the worst managed branch of the army, and -that General Bragg’s men had been on short rations while in Corinth -there was a pile of hard tack as long and high as the railroad depot -that was going to waste. Our starving boys in Libby prison could look -through the grated windows upon the fertile fields of Manchester, -“waving with grain and alive with flocks and herds,” and General Lee -wrote that there were supplies enough in the country, and if the proper -means were taken to procure them there would not be so many desertions -from his army. Every Union soldier who died for want of food in Southern -prison pens was deliberately murdered, and the Richmond papers declared -that General Winder was to blame for it. If the latter had not been -summoned by death to answer before a higher tribunal, there is no doubt -but that he would have been hanged by sentence of court martial as -Captain Wirz was. - -Marcy Gray scarcely closed his eyes in slumber that night, and when he -did, his sleep was disturbed by horrible dreams in which starving -prisoners and unfeeling Confederate officers bore prominent parts. He -arose from his bunk as weary and dispirited as he was when he got into -it, breakfasted on a cup of sweet potato coffee and a small piece of -corn bread, and when the adjutant’s call sounded was one of the first to -appear on the parade ground; but he did not take as much pains to fall -in like a soldier as he did the day before. On the contrary he seemed to -be the greenest one among the conscripts, for when he was commanded to -“dress up a little on the right centre” he did not move until the -adjutant shook his sword at him and asked if he were hard of hearing. - -In only one particular did this guard-mount resemble those in which -Marcy had often taken part at the Barrington Academy. The guard, which -was composed of an equal number of Home Guards and conscripts, was -divided into two platoons with an officer of the guard in command of -each, and an officer of the day in command of the whole, and there all -attempts to follow the tactics ceased except when the adjutant saluted -the new officer of the day and reported, “Sir, the guard is formed.” -There was no band to sound off and no marching in review. Instead of -that the officer of the day said to one of his lieutenants, “Go ahead, -Billy, and fill up the boxes,” and in obedience to the order, the same -sergeant who had warned the conscripts for duty the night before placed -himself at the head of the first platoon, to which Marcy belonged, and -marched them to the commander’s headquarters, where they were supplied -with old-fashioned muskets and cartridge-boxes. - -“Give me that gun!” shouted the sergeant, who was out of all patience -when he saw that some of the conscripts held their pieces at trail arms, -and that others placed them on their shoulders as they might have done -if they had been going to hunt squirrels in the woods. “Now watch me. -This is shoulder arms. Put your guns that way, all of you, and keep them -there.” - -So saying he marched the platoon away to relieve the sentries on post. -Marcy was No. 6, and this brought him to a station about the middle of -the eastern side of the stockade. When his number was called he followed -the sergeant up a ladder and into a box from which a grizzly Home Guard -had been keeping watch during the morning hours. The latter, instead of -bringing his musket to arms port, as he ought to have done when passing -his orders, dropped the butt of it to the floor and rested his chin on -his hands, which he clasped over the muzzle. - -“There aint nothing much to do but jest loaf here and keep an eye on -them abolitionists,” said he, jerking his head toward the stockade. “Do -you see that dead-line down there? Well, if you see one of ’em trying to -get over or under it shoot him down; and don’t stop to ask him no -questions, neither. I’d like mighty well to get a chance to do it, kase -I want thirty days home. I reckon that’s all, aint it, sard?” - -The sergeant said he reckoned it was, and when the two went down the -ladder Marcy stepped to the side of his box and took his first view of -the inside of a Southern prison pen. He had seen a picture of Camp -Douglas in an illustrated paper which Captain Burrows gave him one day -when he was in Plymouth, and had taken note that the Confederate -prisoners there confined were provided with comfortable quarters, into -which they could retreat in stormy weather, and where they could find -shade when the sun grew too hot for them; but there was nothing of the -kind inside this stockade. There was no shelter from sun or rain except -such as the prisoners had been able to provide for themselves. There -were multitudes of little tents made of blankets, which were hardly high -enough for a man to crawl into, and scattered among them were mounds of -earth that looked so much like graves that Marcy was startled when he -saw a ragged, emaciated apparition, which had once been an able-bodied -Union soldier, slowly emerge from one of them and throw himself down -upon the ground as if he didn’t care whether he ever got up again or -not. The stockade was crowded with just such pitiful objects, who -dragged their skeleton forms wearily over the sun-baked earth or lay as -motionless as dead men under the shelter of their little tents. It was a -spectacle to which no language could do justice, and Marcy turned from -it sick at heart to make an examination of the stockade itself. It was -built of pine logs set upright in the ground and scored on each side so -that they would stand closely together, and they were held in place by -heavy planks which were spiked across them on the outside near the top. -Built upon little platforms, located at regular intervals around the top -of the stockade, were sentry boxes like the one Marcy now occupied, to -which access was gained by ladders leading from the ground outside. On -the inside of the stockade, about fifteen feet from it and running -parallel to it all the way around, was a railing three feet high made by -nailing strips of boards to posts that had been firmly set in the -ground. It was an innocent looking thing, but it had sent into eternity -more than one brave man who had incautiously approached it. It was the -dead-line. - -“But it will never be the death of anybody while I am on post,” thought -Marcy, wondering how any man could want a furlough bad enough to shoot a -fellow being down in cold blood. “I never could look my mother or Jack -in the face if I should do a deed like that, and I’d never have a good -night’s rest. Heaven will never smile upon a cause upheld by men who are -as cruel as these rebels are. They ought to be whipped.” - -Long before the time arrived for him to be relieved Marcy became so -affected by the sight of the misery and suffering he had no power to -alleviate that he wanted to drop his musket and take to his heels; and -he would have welcomed a cyclone or an earthquake, or any other -convulsion of nature, that would have shut it out from his view forever. -On several occasions some of the thirsty wretches approached within a -few feet of the dead-line, with battered, smoke-begrimed cups or pieces -of bent tin in their hands, to drink from the sluggish stream that -flowed through the pen—for the water was clearer there than it was -anywhere else—and then it was that the fiendish nature of the sentry in -the next box on the right showed itself. As often as a prisoner drew -near to the stream with a dish in his hand, this man would cock his -musket, bring it to a ready, and crane his long neck eagerly forward, as -if he hoped that the soldier might forget himself and approach close -enough to the fatal line to give him an excuse for shooting. Once or -twice Marcy was on the point of warning the boys in blue to keep farther -away, but he remembered in time that he had been told to ask no -questions, and that was the same as an order forbidding him to speak to -the prisoners. To his great joy the sentry who was so anxious to have a -furlough did not earn it that day. At length Marcy saw the relief -approaching, and then he took the first long, easy breath he had drawn -for four miserable hours. He passed his orders in as few words as -possible and hurried down the ladder, feeling as if he had just been -released from prison himself. He marched around the stockade with the -relief, and was surprised to see how extensive it was. It was not -crowded like Andersonville, nor were the sanitary conditions quite so -bad; but they were bad enough, and the mortality was just as great in -proportion to the number of prisoners confined in it. When they reached -the barracks the platoon to which he belonged was drilled for half an -hour at stacking arms, and it was not until the movement was -accomplished to his satisfaction that the officer of the guard allowed -them to break ranks and go to dinner. - -“You look as though you had had a spell of sickness,” were the first -words his friend Bowen said to him, when the two found opportunity to -exchange a few words in private. “What’s the matter?” - -“Wait until you have stood in one of those boxes for four hours, and see -if you don’t feel as bad as I look,” answered Marcy. “It’s awful, and I -don’t see how I can go there again. Why, Charley, the sentry who stood -next to me fairly ached to shoot one of those poor fellows. I never saw -a quail hunter more eager to get a shot than he was.” - -“Did the prisoner come near the dead-line?” - -“There must have been fifty or more of them who came to the bayou to get -a drink; but they were not within ten feet of the dead-line.” - -“And what did you do?” - -“I? I didn’t do anything.” - -“Well, the next time that thing happens, I would make a little -demonstration, if I were in your place,” said Bowen. “You can act as if -you were going to shoot, but of course you needn’t unless you have to.” - -“Do you want me to understand that I will be reported if I don’t?” - -“That’s what I mean. I have had a talk with some of these Home Guards -this morning, and have found out what sort of chaps they are. If you are -too easy with the prisoners you’ll get them down on you, and then -they’ll tell on you whether you do anything wrong or not. And you want -to keep out of the clutches of the captain, for he’s a heathen.” - -Marcy afterward had occasion to remember this warning. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - ON ACCOUNT OF THE DEAD-LINE. - -The life that Marcy Gray led during the next three weeks can be compared -to nothing but a nightmare. His duties were not heavy, but the trouble -was that when he tried to go to sleep he saw the inside of the prison -pen as plainly as he did while he was standing in his box. He saw long -lines of dead men carried out, too, and tumbled unceremoniously into the -trenches outside the stockade, where they were left without a head-board -to show who they were or where they came from. All this while he was -losing flesh and strength as well as courage, and Bowen declared that, -if they did not “make a break” very soon, Marcy would have to go into -the hospital. - -“I feel as though I ought to go there now,” said the latter wearily. “To -tell the honest truth, I haven’t pluck enough to make a break for -liberty; we are too closely watched. When I am on post after dark, I -notice that an officer or a corporal comes around every hour to see if -the guard is all right.” - -“That happens only on pleasant nights; but I have noticed that on stormy -nights the officer of the guard hugs his comfortable quarters as closely -as we do our boxes,” replied Bowen. “You’ll pick up and be yourself -again as soon as we are out of reach of this place, and you mustn’t give -way to your gloomy feelings. The next rainy night that we are on post -together we’ll skip. I have been making inquiries about the country west -of here, and know just how to travel in order to reach my home. All -you’ve got to do is to be ready to move when I say the word, and I will -take you safely through.” - -It would have been very comforting to hear Bowen talk in this confident -way, if Marcy had only been able to believe that the man could keep his -promise; but unfortunately he could not get up any enthusiasm. The -spiritless prisoners inside the stockade were not more indifferent to -their fate than he was to his. There had been no attempts at escape that -Marcy knew anything about, but two unfinished tunnels had been -discovered and filled up, and the pack of “nigger dogs” that the -commander used in tracking fugitives had been brought into the pen and -exhibited to the prisoners, so that they might know what they had to -expect in case they succeeded in getting outside the stockade. But Bowen -declared that the hounds would not bother him and Marcy. If they escaped -during a storm the rain would wash away the scent so that they could not -be tracked. - -It was while Marcy was in this unfortunate frame of mind that something -occurred to arouse him from his lethargy and drive him almost to -desperation. It was on the morning following the day on which a fresh -lot of prisoners had been received into the pen. Marcy stood near the -gate when they went in, and noticed that there were not more than half a -dozen blankets in the party, that some of them were barefooted, and -others destitute of coats and hats. - -“Them Yanks haint got nothin’ to trade,” said a Home Guard who stood -near him. - -“Whose fault is it?” replied Marcy. “They never looked that way when -they were captured.” - -“No, I don’t reckon they did. Them fellars up the country have went -through ’em good fashion. But I don’t blame ’em for that. I only wish I -could get the first pull at a Yank who has a good coat or a pair of -number ten shoes onto his feet. I wouldn’t be goin’ around ragged like I -am now, I bet you.” - -It was one of these fresh prisoners who caused Marcy Gray to fall into -the clutches of the commander of the prison, whom Bowen had denounced as -a “heathen.” He went on post at twelve o’clock the next day, Bowen -occupying the box on his right, while the Home Guard who said he would -like to have a chance to steal a coat and a pair of shoes stood guard in -the one on his left. The new prisoners had had time to take in the -situation, and to learn that if they preferred a shelter of some sort to -the bare ground, or cooked rations instead of raw ones, they were at -liberty to provide themselves with these luxuries if they could, for -their captors would not furnish them. But how could they be expected to -build dug-outs when they did not have even pocket knives to dig with? -and how could they bake corn bread when every flat stone and piece of -board that could be found was in the possession of someone who would not -part with it for love or money? There was a treasure lying on the ground -in front of Marcy’s box, and directly under the strip of board that -marked the inner edge of the dead-line. It was a battered tin cup. How -it came there, and why someone had not tried to obtain possession of it, -was a mystery; but it had been discovered by a party of new-comers, -perhaps a dozen of them in all, who looked at the cup with longing eyes -and then glanced apprehensively at Marcy, who leaned on his musket and -looked down on them. One of the most daring of the party seemed -determined to make an effort to secure the cup, but as often as he bent -forward as if he were about to make a dash for it, his comrades seized -him and pulled him back. - -“Poor fellow,” thought Marcy, who admired the prisoner’s courage. “He -little knows how glad I would be to tell him to come and get it. The cup -isn’t inside the dead-line anyway, and if he makes a grab for it he can -have it for all I will do to stop him.” - -The result of this mental resolution was the same as though Marcy had -announced it in words. As quick as thought the daring soldier made a -jump for the dead-line, snatched the cup from the ground, and in a -second more was back among his comrades, who closed around him in a -body, effectually covering him from the three muskets, Marcy’s, Bowen’s, -and the Home Guard’s, that were pointed in his direction. They ran among -the tents and dug-outs and mingled with the other prisoners, so that it -would have been impossible for the guards to identify a single one of -them. - -“Good for the Yank!” thought Marcy. “That’s what I call pluck. He’ll -have something to dig with at any rate, and perhaps he can straighten -that cup out so that he can cook his corn meal in it.” - -If Marcy and Bowen had fired at the man it would have been with the -intention of missing him, but not so with the Home Guard on the left, -who would have drawn a fine bead in the hope of winning a thirty days’ -furlough. The latter was fighting mad. He shook his fist at Marcy and -shouted in stentorian tones: - -“Corporal of the guard, number ’leven!” - -“By gracious!” gasped Marcy. “He’s going to report it.” - -He glanced toward Bowen’s box, and knew by the way his friend shook his -head at him that there was trouble in store for somebody; but how could -he be blamed more than anyone else? than the Home Guard, for instance, -who had as fair a chance to shoot as any blood-thirsty rebel could ask -for? The corporal came promptly and went into the Home Guard’s box, and -Marcy could see the angry man pointing out the position of the cup and -flourishing his clenched hand in the air to give emphasis to something -he was saying. After the corporal had heard his story he descended the -ladder and came into Marcy’s box. - -“Sentry, what were you put here for, anyway?” were the first words he -spoke. “Why didn’t you shoot that man?” - -“There were two reasons why I didn’t do it,” answered Marcy. “My orders -are to shoot if I see a prisoner trying to get over or under the -dead-line, but that man didn’t try to get over or under, for the cup -wasn’t inside. It was under that strip of board.” - -“No matter. It was _at_ the dead-line, and it was your business to pop -him over,” said the corporal. “I am afraid the old man will give you a -taste of military discipline when you come off post.” - -“Why should he? I haven’t disobeyed any order. And the other reason why -I didn’t shoot was because I didn’t have time. That Yank was as swift as -a bird on the wing, and before you could wink twice he was back among -his friends, and I couldn’t see him.” - -“Then why didn’t you shoot into the crowd?” demanded the corporal. - -“And kill or wound somebody who hadn’t done a thing?” exclaimed Marcy. - -“Why, what’s the matter with you? I shall begin to think pretty soon -that you are a Yank yourself. Of course you ought to have fired into the -crowd and made an example of somebody. What’s one Yank more or less, -anyway? I believe in shooting everyone who comes down here.” - -“Why didn’t that man in the next box shoot?” inquired Marcy. “He had the -same chance I had, and is as much to blame because that Yank made a dash -to the dead-line and got the cup.” - -“Not much he aint. The thing happened directly in front of your post, it -was your duty to kill that man, you disobeyed orders by not doing it, -and of course I shall have to report you.” - -“If I get into trouble by it I shall shoot at the next man who comes -within twenty feet of the dead-line,” said Marcy. - -“You’ll be sorry you didn’t make that resolution long ago,” replied the -corporal, as he backed down the ladder. He went into Bowen’s box to hear -what he had to say about it, and then went back to headquarters; and two -hours later the relief came around. - -“If I had been in your box I would have been on my way home by this time -to-morrow,” said the Home Guard, as he and Marcy and Bowen fell into -their places in the rear of the line. “You’ll never have another chance -like that to earn a furlough. Why didn’t you shoot that there Yank?” - -“Why didn’t you?” retorted Marcy. “You had as good a show as I.” - -“Not much, I didn’t. He was closter to you nor he was to me, and besides -I didn’t have time.” - -“Neither did I. I never could hit a moving object with a single bullet.” - -“You could have showed your good will if you had been a mind to. That’s -what I think, and less’n the old man has changed mightily sense I jined -his comp’ny, it’s what he’ll think about it, too.” - -The unhappy Marcy had made up his mind that he would have to stand -punishment of some sort for permitting a prisoner to put his hand under -the dead-line; and his worst fears were confirmed when he came within -sight of the barracks and saw all the officers of the guard and the -commander of the prison standing there, and three Home Guards stationed -close by, with muskets in their hands. When the platoon was halted -before the door and brought to a front, the captain said: - -“No. 12, step out here.” - -As that was the number of the post from which Marcy had just been -relieved, he moved one pace to the front and saluted. - -“So you are the low-down conscript who presumes to set my orders at -defiance, are you?” continued the captain. “What were you put in that -box for? Why did you allow that prisoner to come to the line?” - -“Sir, my orders were——” began Marcy. - -“Shut up!” shouted the captain, growing red in the face. “If you talk -back to me I’ll put a gag in your mouth. Trice him up, and leave him -that way till he learns who’s boss of this camp.” - -Without saying a word, one of the three Home Guards before spoken of -took Marcy’s musket from his hand, while another unbuckled the belt that -held his cartridge-box. Then they laid hold of his arms, and with the -officer of the guard marching in front and the third soldier bringing up -the rear, led him to a tree that stood before the door of the captain’s -quarters. It did not take them more than two minutes to do their cruel -work, and when it was over and the officer of the guard moved away with -two of his men, leaving the other to keep watch over the culprit with a -loaded musket, Marcy Gray was standing on his toes, and his arms were -drawn high above his head by a strong cord which had been tied around -his thumbs and thrown over a limb of the tree. The pain was intense, but -the boy shut his teeth hard and gave no sign of suffering till his head -fell over on his shoulder and he fainted dead away. When he came to -himself he was lying in his bunk, his wounded hands were resting in a -basin of hot water which Bowen was holding for him, and another -good-hearted conscript was keeping his head and face wet with water he -had just drawn from the well. Their countenances were full of sympathy, -and there were signs of rage to be seen as well. - -“This is rough on me, boys,” groaned Marcy. - -“While you were hanging to that tree I asked some questions about -Captain Denning,” whispered Bowen, “and now I know who he is, and where -he hails from. He owns a fine plantation about twenty miles from where I -live when I am at home, and we shall pass it on our way to the river.” - -“O Charley, let’s go to-night,” murmured Marcy. “I shall die if I stay -here any longer.” - -“That’s what I have thought all along, and I am with you when we go on -post at twelve o’clock. It’s going to rain like smoke in less than half -an hour, and when it begins it will keep it up for a day or two. I am -glad if you have been waked up, but sorry it had to be done in this -way.” - -“Captain Denning will be sorry for it, too,” said Marcy. - -In spite of the agony he was in, but one thought filled Marcy Gray’s -mind, and that was that under no circumstances would he pass another day -alive in that camp. No matter how great the danger might be, he would -escape that very night. He would go with a musket in his hand and a box -of cartridges by his side, and if he were recaptured, it would be after -every bullet in those cartridges had found a lodgement in the body of -some Home Guard. He did not have very much to say, but Bowen knew by the -expression on his face that Marcy was thoroughly aroused at last. - -Marcy did not want any supper, but managed to eat a little, and to slip -a generous piece of corn bread in his pocket for the lunch he knew he -would need before morning. The storm did not come in half an hour, as -Bowen had predicted, but it came a little later, and when the two went -on post at twelve o’clock, the night was as dark as a pocket, and the -rain was falling in torrents. - -“Splendid weather,” Bowen found opportunity to whisper to Marcy. “It -couldn’t be better. Listen for my signal, for we must start as soon as -the guard is out of the way.” - -“You’ll take your gun?” said Marcy. - -“Of course, and I’ll use it too, before I will allow myself to be -brought back here.” - -If it was a splendid night for their purpose it was a terrible one for -the prisoners, especially for the new-comers who had not had time to -finish their dug-outs. To make matters worse for them there had been a -sudden and noticeable change in the temperature. It was almost freezing -cold, and protected as he was by the walls of his box, and by his warm -blanket, which he had tied over his shoulders like a cloak, Marcy -shivered as he stood with his musket in the hollow of his arm and his -aching, bandaged hands clasped in front of him. He stood thus for ten -minutes when he heard a gentle tapping at the foot of his ladder. That -was the signal agreed upon between him and Bowen, and without a moment’s -hesitation Marcy wheeled around and backed to the ground. - -“Is this you, Charley?” he whispered. “I can’t see a thing.” - -“No more can I,” was the answer, “but I know where we are and which way -we want to go, and that’s enough. Grab hold of the tail of my blanket -and I will pilot you to the railroad track. Mark my words: We’ll never -hear a hound-dog on our trail. They’ll think we have struck for the -coast, and that’s the way they’ll go to find us.” - -If we were to write a full history of the long tramp these two fugitives -made before they found themselves safe at Rodney Gray’s home, as we have -described in a former chapter, it would be to repeat the experience of -hundreds of escaped Union prisoners whose thrilling stories have already -been given to the world. Captain Denning’s “nigger dogs” never once gave -tongue on their trail, and at no time were they in serious danger of -falling into the hands of their enemies. Of course there were other Home -Guards and other dogs in Alabama and Mississippi, and more than once -they were pursued by them; but every negro they met on the road was -their friend, and, believing Marcy and Bowen to be escaped Federals, -took big risks to help them on their way. During the three days they -rested at Bowen’s home in Georgia they were in more danger than at any -other time, for Bowen’s neighbors were all rebels. They knew that he had -been forced into the army, and if they had suspected that he was hiding -in the loft of his father’s cotton gin, they would have left no stone -unturned to effect his capture. But outside of Bowen’s family no one -knew it except one or two faithful blacks, who could be trusted, and -after they had made up for the sleep they had lost, and some of Marcy’s -money had been expended for clothing, shoes, and blankets, the fugitives -set out to pay their respects to the commander of the prison from which -they had escaped. They remained on his plantation a part of one night, -and when they left, everything that would burn was in flames. It was a -high-handed proceeding, and many a soldier not wanting in courage would -have hesitated about taking chances so desperate; but fortunately -another rain storm washed out their trail and if they were pursued they -never knew it. - -“There’s one thing I am sorry for,” said Marcy, as he and Bowen halted -for a moment on the summit of a little rise of ground from which they -had a fair view of the destructive work that was going on on the -plantation they had just left. “I am not revengeful, but I do think -Captain Denning ought to be punished for giving me these hands that I -may not be able to use for months, and I wish he could know that I had a -hand in starting that fire.” - -Marcy’s hands certainly were in a bad way. They needed medical -attention, but if there was a surgeon in the country they had not been -able to find it out. Bowen gave them the best care he could, but Marcy -was so nearly helpless that he could not even carry his musket. He took -no note of time or of the progress they made, but left everything to his -friend Bowen, who could always tell him where they were, how many miles -they had made that day, and how far they would have to travel before -they could get something to eat. If he sometimes drew on his -imagination, and shortened the distance to the Mississippi by a hundred -miles or so, who can blame him? He knew that everything depended on -keeping up Marcy’s courage. - -At last, when the homesick boy became so weary and foot-sore that he -could scarcely drag himself along the dusty road, he noticed with a -thrill of hope that the negroes who befriended him and Bowen no longer -spoke of “Alabam’” but had a good deal to say about “Mississipp’”; and -this made it plain to Marcy that they were slowly drawing near to the -end of their journey, and that his companion had been deceiving him. - -“If you are as well acquainted with the country as you pretend to be, -how does it come that you didn’t know when we passed the boundary line -into the State of Mississippi?” said he. “But I don’t care. I remember -enough of geography to know about where we are now, and that we will -save time and distance if we strike a straight south-east course, for -that is the way Baton Rouge lies from here.” - -Bowen, who had long been out of his reckoning, was quite willing to -resign the leadership, and it was a fortunate thing for them that he -was; for the course Marcy marked out brought them in due time to the -Ohio and Mobile Railroad a few miles north of Enterprise. A night or two -before they got there (they always traveled at night and slept during -the daytime), they were kept busy dodging small bodies of Confederate -soldiers who were journeying along the same road and in the same -direction with themselves. They were evidently concentrating at some -point in advance, but where and for what purpose the fugitives could not -determine until some negroes, to whom they appealed for assistance, told -them of Grierson’s raid. - -“Dat Yankee come down hyar from some place up de country, an’ he whop -an’ he burn an’ he steal eberyting he see,” said one of the blacks -gleefully. “But de rebels gwine cotch him at Enterprise, an’ you two -best not go da’.” - -This glorious news infused wonderful life and strength into Marcy Gray. -He forgot his aching hands and feet, and from that time carried his own -musket and moved as if he were set on springs. He would hardly consent -to halt long enough to take needed rest, for he was anxious to intercept -Grierson if possible, and warn him that the rebels were concentrating to -resist his further advance. But as it happened Colonel Grierson was -miles away, and it was Captain Forbes, with a squad of thirty-five men, -who had been detached from the main body to cut the telegraph north of -Macon, that the fugitives found and warned. They ran upon them by -accident, and at first thought they had fallen into the hands of the -rebels. One bright moonlight night they were hurrying along a road which -ran through a piece of thick timber, when all on a sudden they were -brought to a standstill by four men, who stepped from the shade of the -trees and covered them with their guns before they said a word. They -were soldiers, for their brass buttons showed plainly in the dim light; -but whether they wore the blue or the gray was a momentous question that -the fugitives could not answer. When one of them spoke it was in a -subdued voice. - -“Who comes there?” he demanded. - -“Friends,” replied Marcy in tones just loud enough to be heard and -understood. Then, believing that the truth would hold its own anywhere, -he added desperately; “We are escaped conscripts on our way to the -Mississippi, and we want to see Grierson.” - -“Advance, friends, but be careful how you take them guns from your -shoulders,” was the next order; and when Marcy drew nearer and saw that -the speaker wore the yellow _chevrons_ of a corporal of cavalry on his -arms, his joy knew no bounds. When he and Bowen had been relieved of -their muskets and cartridge-boxes the corporal inquired: - -“Where are the rest of you?” - -“There are no more of us,” answered Marcy. “We are alone.” - -“Mebbe you are and mebbe you aint,” said the corporal. “Jones, you take -’em down to the captain and hurry back as quick as you can, for we may -need you here.” - -The corporal was suspicious and in bad humor about something, and so was -the captain when they found him. He had been riding hard all day, and -had halted in the woods to give his jaded men and horses an hour or two -of rest. He knew that he had been led into a trap by false information, -and by a treacherous guide who managed to escape amid a shower of -bullets that was rained upon him as soon as his treachery was -discovered; and while his men slept the captain rolled restlessly about -on the ground, trying to think up some plan by which he could save his -small command from falling into the hands of the Confederates, who were -making every effort to cut him off from Grierson’s column. He had been -assured that the way to Enterprise was clear, and that if he went in any -other direction he would have to fight his way through, and now came -these two escaped conscripts with a different story. It was little -wonder that Captain Forbes did not put much faith in what they had to -say, or that he spoke sharply when he addressed them. - -“How do you know that the Confederate troops you say you saw along the -road were striking for Enterprise?” he inquired. - -“Because the negroes told us so, and during our journey we have always -found that the negroes told us the truth,” answered Marcy, who did most -of the talking. - -“And you say you have come from Millen?” - -“Yes, sir. We were on post there when we escaped.” - -“Do you know where Millen is?” - -“Of course we know where it is.” - -“Well, now, what I want to know is this: Why did you take such a long -tramp through the country when you were within less than a hundred miles -of the coast?” - -Bowen answered this question, giving their reasons as we have given them -to the reader, but the captain acted as though he did not believe a word -of it. Marcy tried to help him out by telling of the relatives he -expected to meet when he reached the Mississippi River, and the story -was so improbable that the captain told them bluntly that he believed -they were spies, that they had come into his camp to see how many men he -had under his command, and that they hoped to escape to their friends -with the information. Marcy was surprised and hurt to find himself -suspected by the officer he wanted to help. - -“I assure you, sir——” he began. - -“I’ve had that trick played on me twice during this scout, and if it is -played on me again it will be my own fault,” interrupted the captain. -“Consider yourselves in arrest.” - -He ordered a sentry to be placed over them at once, and we may add that -Marcy and his friend were under suspicion all the time, and under guard -most of the time they remained with Grierson’s men. - -The next morning at daylight Captain Forbes resumed his rapid march, and -in two hours’ time arrived within sight of Enterprise, which, to his -amazement and alarm, he found to be filled with rebel soldiers. There -were three thousand of them. They were in motion too, and that proved -that they were aware of his coming and making ready to attack him. A -fight meant annihilation or capture, and there was but one way to -prevent it. Halting his men in the edge of a piece of woods out of sight -of the enemy, Captain Forbes called a single officer to his side and -galloped boldly toward the town. He was gone half an hour, and when he -returned he placed himself at the head of his squad and led it in a -headlong retreat, which did not end until the captain reported to -Colonel Grierson at Pearl River. In speaking of this dashing exploit -history says: “The captain, understanding his danger, tried to bluff the -enemy and succeeded. He rode boldly up to the town and demanded the -instant surrender of the place to Colonel Grierson. Colonel Goodwin, -commanding the Confederate force, asked an hour to consider the -proposition, to which request Forbes was only too willing to accede. -That hour, with rapid riding, delivered his little company from its -embarrassing situation.” - -That rapid retreat was about as much as Marcy and Bowen could stand -after their long walk across the country. They were given broken-down -plough-mules to ride, and these delightful beasts, which took every step -under protest and “bucked” viciously when pressed too hard, had -well-nigh jolted the breath out of them by the time they reached the -main column at Pearl River. But they journeyed more leisurely after -that, all the most dangerous places along their line of march having -been left behind, and when the fugitives learned that they were within -forty-eight hours’ ride of Baton Rouge, and that the column would pass -through Mooreville on the following day, they asked and obtained -permission to accompany the scouts that were sent on ahead the next -morning. That was the way they came to ride into Rodney Gray’s dooryard -as we have recorded. - -“You have heard my story,” concluded Marcy, settling contentedly back -among the pillows. “Now, who is going to give me a drink of water?” - -“How you must have suffered,” said his aunt, with tears in her eyes. - -“It’s all over now,” replied the young hero cheerfully, “and I am -anxious to send word to mother. I wish one of you would write to her at -Plymouth, care of Captain Burrows, and I am sure he will have the letter -delivered.” - -“Do you know that you slept for eighteen straight hours?” replied -Rodney. “Well, that gave me time to write the letter and take it to -Baton Rouge and mail it to the address Jack gave me before he went home. -Now that you are safe I don’t see what there is to hinder Jack from -carrying out his plan of becoming a cotton trader. If he wants to pay -back to his mother every dollar she is likely to lose by this war, I -don’t know any better thing for him to do.” - -“Did you say as much in your letter?” - -“I said all that and more. I am sure he will come, if it is only to see -you.” - -“Rodney, you’re a brick,” exclaimed Marcy. “But I wish you could tell me -more about Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin.” - -But Rodney couldn’t, for the very good reason that all Jack said about -it was that they had been bushwhacked; and with this meagre information -Marcy was obliged to be satisfied. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - SAILOR JACK, THE TRADER. - -It was a long time before Marcy Gray could bring himself to believe that -he was not dreaming, and that he would awake to find himself a conscript -guard at the Millen prison pen, but this uncertainty did not prevent him -from making long strides toward recovery. His faithful friend Bowen -declared that he could see him getting well. In less than a week he was -strong enough to ride to Baton Rouge with Rodney. He reported to the -provost marshal, who listened in amazement to his story, and gave him -and Bowen a standing pass in and out of the Union lines. At the end of -two weeks he began to wonder why he did not hear from Jack, and at the -end of three that wished-for individual presented himself in person, -much to the delight of all his relatives. He rode into Rodney’s yard in -company with Mr. Gray, as he had done on a former occasion, and no -sooner did his eyes rest upon Marcy, who sprang down the steps to meet -him, than he began quoting something. - - “This accident and flood of fortune - So far exceed all instance, all discourse, - That I am ready to distrust mine eyes, - And wrangle with my reason that persuades me - To any other trust,” - -exclaimed Jack, as he swung himself from his mule and clasped his strong -arms about the brother he had never thought to see again. “How are you, -conscript?” - -“O Jack!” was all Marcy could say in reply. - -“She’s pretty well,” said the sailor, who knew that Marcy would have -asked about his mother if his heart hadn’t been so full, “and has grown -ten years younger since she heard you were safe among friends.” - -He shook hands with Rodney, whom he addressed as “Johnny,” and then -walked up to Bowen and fairly doubled him up with one of his sailor -grips. - -“You are the man I have to thank for saving my brother’s life, are you?” -said he in a trembling voice. “I don’t know that I shall ever have a -chance to show how grateful I am to you, but if you ever need a friend -you will always find him in Jack Gray.” - -It was a happy meeting altogether, and if one might judge by the way he -acted, Sailor Jack himself didn’t know whether he was awake or dreaming. -Marcy’s hands still showed the effect of his unmerited punishment, and -when his big brother looked at them, an expression came upon his face -that might have made Captain Denning a trifle uneasy if he had been -there to see it. - -“My orders are to bring you home with me, young man,” said he. “And, -Bowen, you must go, too.” - -“Don’t you think it would be dangerous?” inquired Rodney, who had -somehow got it into his head that Marcy would have to live with him as -long as the war continued. - -“Union people are safer in our country now than they ever were before,” -answered Jack. “There’s been some shooting done up there since I wrote -to you.” - -“O Jack!” exclaimed Marcy. “Were Tom and Mark very badly hurt?” - -“Hurt!” repeated the sailor. “Well, I reckon so. They were killed -deader’n herrings, and so were Beardsley, Shelby, and Dillon. Buffum, -the spy who was the means of getting you captured, was hanged, and so -was mother’s old overseer, Hanson. I tell you, Rodney, the country is -full of Union men, and they have been carrying things with a high hand -since Marcy went away.” - -“I should think they had,” said the latter, who had never been more -astounded. “I am sorry to hear about Tom and Mark.” - -“Well, then, why didn’t they mind their own business? If they’d had a -grain of common sense they would have known that they were bound to get -paid off sooner or later. They brought it on themselves, and it is a -wonder to me that they were not dealt with long before.” - -“Jack,” said Marcy suddenly. “You had no hand in it?” - -“Not a hand. Not a finger, though there’s no telling what I might have -done if Captain Denning had been there, and I had known that he triced -you up for nothing. Your friends, the refugees, didn’t need any help -from me. There are eighty or a hundred of them now, and they have become -regular guerillas. They are well armed, and when I came away were -talking of raiding Williamston and burning the jail. I think you will be -safe at home, for rebel cavalry don’t scout through our section any -more.” - -“How soon do you expect to go?” inquired Rodney. - -“Just as soon as I can fill up the _Hyperion’s_ hold,” replied Jack. -“She is due in New Orleans week after next, and I want a boatload of -cotton ready for her when she pulls in to the wharf. So you can trot out -your four hundred bales as soon as you get ready, and I will give you -twenty-five cents greenback money for it. I was dead broke when I was -here before, but I’m wealthy now,” added Jack, pulling from his pocket a -roll of bills that was almost as big as his wrist. “Marcy, that’s -mother’s money.” - -“I am overjoyed to hear it,” said the boy. - -“And she was overjoyed to get rid of it, for it has been nothing but a -botheration to her ever since she drew it from the bank. Old Morris -showed me where you and he buried it on the night you dug it out of the -cellar wall, and I brought it to New Orleans and exchanged it for -greenbacks at a premium that made me open my eyes. I am first officer of -the _Hyperion_, and in partnership with her owners. I do not expect to -have time to make more than two or three trips on her before the -Mississippi is opened, and then I hope to come back here and run a -trading boat on the river.” - -“Where will I be while you are doing that?” inquired Marcy. - -“At home with your mother, where all good boys ought to be. You will get -not less than a dollar for your cotton,” said Jack, turning to Rodney, -“perhaps a dollar ten, minus the freight——” - -“You don’t mean it!” Rodney almost gasped; for Jack’s matter-of-fact way -of speaking of the fortune that seemed about to drop into his father’s -hands took his breath away. - -“What’s the reason I don’t mean it? I hope you don’t imagine that I am -going to let anyone speculate with your property!” exclaimed the sailor. -“Whatever the market price is when your cotton is landed in New York, -that you will get, less the freight the _Hyperion_ will charge you for -taking it there. The twenty-five cents I am authorized to offer you is -business; what you will receive over and above that will be owing to -kinship. Your father and mine were brothers. Now what shall we do with -that man Lambert; send him North for a guerilla or what?” - -“I am perfectly willing to buy him off,” said Mr. Gray. “I can afford to -be liberal, for I really believe we would have lost our cotton if it -hadn’t been for him and his ’phantom bushwhackers.’” - -“I am afraid he’ll not let you buy him off for any reasonable sum,” said -Rodney. - -“You might try him the first chance you get and find out what he is -willing to do,” suggested Jack. “Any way to get rid of him, so that he -will not bushwhack the teamsters we shall send into the woods after the -cotton.” - -“I suppose you have a permit this time,” observed Rodney. - -“Right from headquarters. We didn’t ask for military protection, and it -isn’t likely that we would have got it if we had; but we are at liberty -to take as many bales of cotton through the lines as we can buy. General -Banks’ signature is on our permit, and he is supreme in this -Department.” - -Before Mr. Gray and Jack went home that night a plan of operations had -been decided upon. The former were to engage all the wagons and mules -that could be found in the neighborhood to haul Mr. Gray’s four hundred -bales to Baton Rouge, while Rodney was to seek an interview with Lambert -and “buy him off” if he could. Rodney declared that he had the hardest -part of the work to do, and he set about it, not by going into the woods -to hunt up the ex-Home Guard, but by riding to the city to ask the -advice and assistance of the provost marshal. As he was about to mount -his horse he said to Marcy: - -“If that man Lambert comes here while I am gone, please tell him to come -again to-morrow morning, for I want to see him on important business. If -you question him a little, no doubt you will be surprised at the extent -of his information. There’s little goes on in the settlement that he -doesn’t know all about.” - -Rodney’s interview with the marshal must have been in the highest degree -satisfactory, for when he came back at night he was laughing all over; -but his cousin Marcy looked troubled. - -“He’s been here,” said the latter, without waiting to be questioned, -“and he was as impudent as you please.” - -“It’s no more than I expected,” replied Rodney. “What did he say?” - -“That them fellers might jest as well give up hirin’ teams to haul out -that cotton till after you had made some sort of a bargain with him,” -answered Marcy. - -“That’s all right. Did he say he’d come to-morrow?” - -“Yes, he said he would be here to listen to what you have to say, and if -you don’t talk to suit him he’ll start another bonfire.” - -“That’s all right,” said Rodney again. “I was afraid he might take it -into his head to start it to-night, in which case I should be under the -disagreeable necessity of bushwhacking him before I slept. But if he -puts it off till to-morrow, he’ll never set any more bonfires. Did you -ever hear of such impudence before?” - -For some reason or other Rodney Gray was in excellent spirits that -evening. He did not go to bed until long after midnight, and when he -did, he could not sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. But when -morning came he sobered down, and his face took on the determined -expression that Marcy had so often seen there during those exciting days -at the Barrington Academy, when Dick Graham stole the flag and the -Minute-men burned Unionists out of house and home. Just as they arose -from the breakfast table Ned Griffin threw down the bars and rode into -the yard, and that made four resolute fellows, counting in Charley -Bowen, who were ready to see Lambert and talk to him about Mr. Gray’s -cotton. They all wore sack coats, and in each of the outside pockets was -a loaded revolver. - -“I am afraid Lambert will weaken when he sees this crowd,” said Ned. -“Perhaps he’ll not come into the yard at all. Wouldn’t it be a good -scheme for a couple of us to go into the house out of sight?” - -“I don’t think it would,” answered Rodney. “Lambert knows how many there -are of us, and if he doesn’t find us all on the porch when he comes his -suspicions will be aroused. He’ll not come alone, you may be certain of -that.” - -And sure enough he didn’t. When he rode up to the bars half an hour -later he had two companions with him, and they all carried guns on their -shoulders. There was something aggressive in the way they jerked out the -bars and dropped them on the ground, and Rodney noticed that Lambert did -not take the trouble to put them up behind him as he usually did. This -was the way he took of showing Rodney that he held some power in his -hands, and that he intended to use it for his own personal ends. - -“What did I tell you?” said the young master of the plantation, who was -angry in an instant. “He’s brought Moseley and another long-haired chap, -whose name I do not now recall, and thinks he’s going to ride over me -rough-shod. Of course he will demand a private interview, and I will -grant it. All you’ve got to do is to come when you hear me shoot. I’ll -show him that I am in no humor to put up with any more of his nonsense.” - -“Don’t run any risks,” cautioned Marcy. “Your mother says that Lambert -is a dangerous man.” - -“I’ll prove to you, before this thing is over, that he is the biggest -coward in the Confederacy,” replied Rodney. - -The near approach of Lambert and his friends cut short the conversation. -They did not get off their mules, but rode straight up to the porch; and -then Rodney knew why they left the bars down behind them. Their bearing -was insolent, and the first words Lambert uttered were still more so. - -“Look a-here, Rodney Gray,” said he, “I’d like to know what them fellers -mean by goin’ round the settlement hirin’ teams to haul that cotton -outen the swamp without sayin’ a word to me about it.” - -“I don’t know why you should be consulted,” was the quiet reply. “Since -when has that cotton belonged to you?” - -“I’ve had an intrust in it ever sence I began watchin’ it for you an’ -your paw,” said Lambert. - -“You never had an interest in it, but my father is willing to pay you -for keeping an eye on it, if we can agree upon terms.” - -“That’s what I call business,” said Lambert, his face brightening. “How -much you willin’ to give?” - -“What are you willing to take?” - -“I can’t set no figures till I know how much the cotton is wuth to you,” -said Lambert. “How much you goin’ to get for it?” - -“I can’t tell until it is sold in New York,” answered Rodney, -controlling his rising anger with an effort. - -“Are you tryin’ to make me b’lieve that you are goin’ to let some -abolitionist run that cotton outen the country without payin’ you a cent -down for it!” shouted Lambert. “I don’t b’lieve a word of it.” - -“You needn’t yell so. I am not deaf.” - -“Then if you aint you can hear what I’ve got to tell you,” said the man, -raising his voice a full octave higher. “I won’t have no more foolin’. -How much you goin’ to get for that cotton?” - -“It’s none of your business. You understand that, I suppose?” - -By this time Lambert had succeeded in working himself into a furious -passion, but if he had possessed ordinary common sense he never would -have done it. He thought he could frighten Rodney, but should have known -better. The boy sat tilted back in his chair, with his feet on the -gallery railing and his thumbs hooked in the armholes of his vest, and -his very attitude ought to have warned the ex-Home Guard that he was -treading on dangerous ground, and that there was a point beyond which -Rodney would not be driven. The latter’s reply to his insolent question -capped the climax. - -“Whoop!” yelled Lambert, flourishing his rifle above his head. “It aint -none of my business, aint it? I’ll make it my business to make a beggar -of you this very night. I’ll send that cotton of yourn where I sent -Randolph’s to pay that no-account boy of his’n for shakin’ his sword at -me.” - -“You have fully made up your mind to burn my father’s cotton, have you?” -said Rodney. - -“Yes, I have. It shan’t never be hauled outen them woods less’n I get -fifty cents a pound, cash in hand, for it. That Yankee cousin of yourn -is goin’ to run it up North an’ get a dollar for it. I heered all about -it an’ you needn’t think to fool me. Will you give it or not?” - -“I certainly will not.” - -“You hearn what he says, boys,” said Lambert to his companions. “I -always said that this was a rich man’s war an’ a poor man’s fight, -didn’t I; an’ now you see it for yourselves, don’t you? Let’s go right -back to the woods an’ set her a-goin’.” - -“Bang!” said one of Rodney’s revolvers, and to Marcy’s inexpressible -horror Lambert dropped his rifle and fell headlong from his mule, which -set up a sonorous bray and started for the bars at top speed. “Bang!” -said the other revolver an instant later, and Moseley let go his hold -upon his gun and clung to his mule with both hands. The result of the -next shot was still more terrifying. The third man made a frantic effort -to turn his beast toward the bars; but before he could put him in motion -a bullet passed through the mule’s head, and he and his rider came to -the ground together. It was done in much less time than it takes to tell -it. Rodney’s companions jumped to their feet, but before they could draw -their weapons it was all over. - -“Rodney, Rodney, what have you done?” cried Marcy in great alarm. - -“I have simply proved my words,” replied his cousin, walking leisurely -down the steps, pushing his revolver into his pocket as he went. “Did I -not say,” he added, picking up the three guns, one after the other, and -firing their contents into the air, “that I would show Lambert to be the -biggest coward in the Confederacy? Get up, here. It’s my turn to be -sassy now. Moseley, dismount.” - -[Illustration: RODNEY SURPRISES LAMBERT.] - -Moseley obeyed with alacrity, and at the same time Lambert raised -himself on his elbow and gazed about him with a bewildered air. Then he -felt of his head, and examined his hand to see if there was blood upon -it. The third man could not move without assistance, for the mule had -fallen upon his leg and pinned him to the ground. - -“Get up,” repeated Rodney, taking Lambert by the arm and helping him -rather roughly to his feet. “Now you and Moseley sit down on the steps -till I am ready to talk to you. Lend a hand here, a couple of you.” - -Hardly able to realize what had taken place before their eyes, Rodney’s -companions hastened down the steps to roll the dead mule off his rider, -so that the man could get up. When he was placed upon his feet he was -found to be so weak from fright that he could scarcely stand; so Marcy -and Ned helped him to a seat on the steps. Then they stood back and -looked closely at Lambert and Moseley. Their faces were very white, and -Lambert was covered with dust from head to foot, but there wasn’t the -sign of a wound on either of them. It was bewildering. - -“Mister Rodney,” ventured Lambert, when he had made sure that he was -still alive and had the use of his tongue, “I hope you don’t bear me no -grudge for them words I spoke to you a while ago.” - -“Oh, no,” replied Rodney cheerfully. “But you have had your say, and I -can’t waste any more time with you now. Moseley, I believe you would be -a harmless sort of rebel if you were out of Lambert’s company.” - -“Yes, I would, sah,” whimpered the hog thief. “Every bit of meanness I -have done was all owin’ to him, sah.” - -“Jest listen at the fule!” exclaimed Lambert. - -“Consequently I think I will let you and your friend here—what’s his -name?” - -“Longworth, sah; Joe Longworth,” replied the owner of the name. - -“Ah, yes! I know you now. I believe I will let you two off on one -condition. Wait until I get through!” cried Rodney, turning fiercely -upon Lambert, who had made several attempts to interrupt him. “You did -lots of talking a little while back, and now it’s my turn. That -condition is, Moseley, that you take your gang out of the woods and keep -it out from this time on, unless I tell you to take it back.” - -“I’ll do it, sah,” said Moseley earnestly. “Sure’s you live——” - -“He can’t, Mister Rodney,” exclaimed Lambert. “There aint nobody but me -can do that, kase I’m the captain of ’em.” - -“You’re not the captain of them any longer. They will have to elect -someone to take your place, for you are going to start for Baton Rouge -in less than fifteen minutes.” - -When Lambert heard this he almost fell off the step on which he was -sitting. Without giving him time to recover himself sufficiently to -utter a protest, Rodney again addressed ex-Lieutenant Moseley. - -“If you will do that, you can go to my father after our cotton has been -shipped, and he will give each of you some money,” said Rodney. “I don’t -know how much, but it will be a larger sum than you ever owned before at -one time. It will be good money, too.” - -“Say, Mister Rodney,” faltered Lambert, “what’s the reason I can’t have -a share?” - -“But if you don’t do it,” continued Rodney, “if you interfere in any way -with the teamsters who will go into the swamp to-morrow to haul that -cotton out, the last one of you will be hunted down and shot, or sent to -a Northern prison to keep company with Lambert. How many did you leave -behind when you came here?” - -“Four, sah,” replied Moseley. - -“Only seven of you altogether!” exclaimed Rodney. “Well, I think I can -promise you a hundred dollars apiece in greenbacks, and that will be -equal to six or eight hundred dollars in Confederate scrip.” - -Moseley’s eyes glistened and so did Longworth’s; but Lambert’s grew dim -with tears, and his face was a sight to behold. The man had less courage -than Rodney gave him credit for, and the boy wondered what his mother -would think of this “dangerous” person if she could see him now. He -couldn’t even talk, and Rodney was glad of it, for he wanted to finish -his instructions to Moseley and take down the names of his companions -without being interrupted. - -“Longworth, is that your beast?” said Rodney, with a nod toward the dead -mule. “I am sorry I had to shoot him, and I shouldn’t have done it if -you hadn’t tried to run off. When you are ready to come out of the woods -and put in a crop, I will give you another and better one to take his -place; but I’ll not furnish you anything to ride as long as you are -playing bushwhacker.” - -After a little more conversation, and before Lambert had recovered from -the stupor into which he had been thrown by Rodney’s ominous words, -Moseley and Longworth started for the swamp to spread consternation -among their companions by telling what a desperate fighter the young -overseer was when aroused, and what terrible things he had threatened to -do if his demands were not complied with, while Rodney and his cousin -went into the house, leaving Ned and Bowen to watch the prisoner. - -“I don’t see how you could bring yourself to do it,” said Marcy. - -“Do it! Do what?” replied Rodney innocently. - -“I thought sure you had killed Lambert and wounded Moseley, and when I -saw Longworth come to the ground as if he had been struck by -lightning——” - -“That’s nothing,” laughed Rodney. “If you could see a platoon of cavalry -floored as quickly as he was, perhaps you would open your eyes. As to -Lambert, I didn’t shoot within a foot of his head, although I shoved my -revolver so close to his face that the smoke went into his eyes and -blinded him for a minute or two. I shot even wider of the mark when I -pulled on Moseley, and no doubt he dropped his gun because Lambert did. -It was not my intention to touch either one of them. I thought it would -be a good plan to let them understand who they were fooling with and -what I could do if I set about it. But I meant to hit that mule. Now, -will you ride to Baton Rouge with me?” - -“Of course I will; but you are not going to send Lambert up North?” - -“That is a matter with which I have nothing to do, but beyond a doubt -it’s where Lambert will bring up before he is many weeks older. As soon -as it becomes known that he is in the hands of the Yanks, the Union -people he persecuted so outrageously, while Tom Randolph was captain of -the Home Guards, will prefer charges against him, and that will be bad -for Lambert.” - -“I wish you thought it safe to let him go,” said Marcy, who could not -bear to see anyone in trouble. - -“But I don’t, you see. Of course he would make all sorts of promises, -but he’d burn that cotton of ours as soon as he could get to it.” - -When the events we have just described became known in the settlement, -they created almost as much excitement as did the news of the firing -upon Sumter, but of course it was a different sort of excitement. The -Union men whom Lambert had robbed and abused went into the city by -dozens to bear testimony against him, and then hastened home to repair -their wagons and harness so that they could earn the four dollars a day, -“greenback money,” that Sailor Jack offered them for hauling out his -uncle’s cotton. Everyone who had cotton to sell and teams for hire, with -one exception, was happy; and that exception was Mr. Randolph, who was -the most miserable man in the State. He had not only lost the most of -his cotton (he had about twenty bales that Jack said he would buy), but -since Lambert’s arrest he had learned why he lost it. That was a matter -which Tom desired above all things to keep from his father’s knowledge; -but Lambert had told all he knew about him in the hope that, if he were -sent to prison, his old captain would have to go with him. Tom himself -had some fears on this score, but thus far no one in the settlement had -thought it worth while to trouble him. Such treatment as that made Tom -angry. - -“Nobody pays any more attention to me than if I was a stump-tailed -yellow dog,” he complained to his mother, who was the only friend he had -in the world. “Father will scarcely speak when I am around, and when I -go to town, the men who used to go out of their way to salute me and say -‘Good-morning, Captain Randolph,’ won’t look at me. It wasn’t so when we -were rich.” - -“That is true,” assented his mother. “I have always heard it said that -one’s pocket-book is one’s best friend, and I believe it. Tommy, don’t -you think, if you could fix up a wagon and earn a little money, it would -be better than idling away your time doing nothing?” - -“And drive crow-bait mules and work for Rodney Gray?” exclaimed Tom. -“Mother, I am surprised at you. Think what a comedown that would be for -one who has been a captain in the Confederate service!” - -Mrs. Randolph did not say that it would have been a good thing for the -captain if he had been content to remain a civilian, but she thought so. - -There were others in the neighborhood who had never performed any manual -labor, rich planters before the war, who had nothing to do but spend the -money their slaves made for them, but they did not talk as Tom did. They -took off their coats and went to work, and never stopped to see whether -the shoulder that was under the opposite side of a cotton bale belonged -to a white man or a negro. Rodney Gray, who superintended the work while -Sailor Jack went to New Orleans to charter a river steamer, paid them -their greenbacks every night, and the planters took them home and hid -them for fear that a squad of rebel cavalry might make a night raid into -the settlement and steal them. Jack did not ask for military protection, -but he had it, for every day or two a company of Federal troopers -galloped through the country, ready to do battle with any “Johnnies” who -might try to interfere with the work. Rodney was always glad to see -them. He knew that the Confederate authorities would not permit that -cotton to be shipped if they could prevent it, and he never left it -unguarded. Moseley and his five companions were in his pay, and earned -two dollars a night by holding themselves ready at all times to drive -off any marauders who might try to burn it. On one memorable night they -proved their worth and earned five times that amount. Moseley, who -seemed to have grown several inches taller since Rodney last saw him, -proudly reported that he had had a regular pitched battle about three -o’clock that morning, and that he had driven the enemy from the field in -such confusion that they left their wounded behind them. And, what was -more to the point, he produced three injured rebels to show that he told -nothing but the truth. - -By the time Sailor Jack returned with the steamer he had chartered, Mr. -Gray’s cotton was all on the levee at Baton Rouge awaiting shipment to -New Orleans, and Rodney’s teams were hard at work hauling in Mr. -Walker’s. By this time, too, everyone in the southwestern part of the -State knew what was going on at Mooreville, and Union men and rebels, -living as far away as the Pearl River bottoms, came to Jack and begged, -with tears in their eyes, that he would take their cotton also and save -them from utter ruin. Jack assured them that he would be glad to buy -every bale, provided they would put it where he could get hold of it -without running the risk of being bushwhacked; but there was the -trouble. The guerillas became very active all on a sudden, and almost -every morning someone would report to Rodney that he “seen a light on -the clouds over that-a-way, and jedged that some poor chap had been -losin’ cotton the night afore.” On one or two occasions Rodney saw such -lights on the sky, and if his heart was filled with sympathy for the -planter who was being ruined by the wanton destruction of his property, -there was still room enough in it for gratitude to his sailor cousin, -through whose manœuvring his father had been saved from a similar -fate. - -Jack Gray was a “hustler,” and he “hustled” his men to such good purpose -that in ten days more his chartered steamer was loaded to her guards, -and Mr. Gray and a few of his neighbors were rich and happy, while -Rodney was very miserable and unhappy, for his cousin and Charley Bowen -were going away. Jack had been told to take Marcy home with him, and -Jack’s rule was to obey orders if he broke owners. Anxious to remain -with Marcy as long as he could, Rodney accompanied him to New Orleans -and saw his father’s cotton loaded into the _Hyperion’s_ hold. A few -days afterward he waved his farewell to Marcy as the swift vessel bore -him down the river, and then turned his face homeward to wait for Grant -and Banks to open the Mississippi. But his patience was sadly tested, -for it was not until July 4 that Grant’s army marched into Vicksburg. -After an active campaign of eighty days the modest man who afterward -commanded all the Union armies “gained one of the most important and -stupendous victories of the war,” inflicting upon the enemy a loss of -ten thousand in killed and wounded, capturing twenty-seven thousand -prisoners, two hundred guns, and small arms and munitions of war -sufficient for an army of sixty thousand men. General Banks took -possession of Port Hudson on the 9th, and no Northern boy shouted louder -than Rodney Gray did when he heard of it. The river was open at last, -and Jack Gray and his trading boat could make their appearance as soon -as they pleased. - -But this was not all the glorious news that Rodney heard about that -time. On the 3d of July, at Cemetery Ridge in far-off Pennsylvania, -there had been a desperate charge of fifteen thousand men and a bloody -repulse that “marked the culmination of the Confederate power.” When -General Lee saw Pickett’s lines and Anderson’s fading away before the -terrible fire of the Union infantry, he also saw “the fading away of all -hope of recognition by the government of Great Britain. The iron-clad -war vessels, constructed with Confederate money by British ship-builders -and intended for the dispersion of the Union fleets blockading -Wilmington and Charleston, and which were supposed to be powerful enough -to send the monitors, one by one, to the bottom of the sea, were -prevented from leaving English ports by order of the British -government”; but if Pickett’s charge had been successful, those -iron-clads would have sailed in less than a week, and France and -England, who were waiting to see what would come of the invasion of -Pennsylvania, would have recognized the Confederacy. It is no wonder -that General Lee’s soldiers fought hard for victory when they knew there -was so much depending upon it. The boys in blue who whipped them at -Cemetery Ridge are deserving of all honor. - -We must not forget to say that before these things happened Sailor Jack -ran up from New Orleans to tell what he had done with Marcy, and to make -a settlement with his uncle. - -“I’ve made a successful trip,” said he gleefully, “and, Uncle Rodney, -you have that much to your credit in the Chemical Bank of New York.” - -As he said this he handed Mr. Gray a certificate of deposit calling for -a sum of money so large that Rodney opened his eyes in amazement. - -“Of course I had to take Marcy to New York with me,” continued Jack, -“but two days after we got there Captain Frazier found a Union storeship -that was about to sail with provisions for the blockading fleet; and as -she had a lot of mail and stuff aboard for Captain Flusser, whom I knew -to be serving on the _Miami_ in Albemarle Sound, I managed to obtain -permission for Marcy to take passage on her, believing that if he could -reach the _Miami_ he could also reach Plymouth, and from there it would -be easy for him to get home. I expect to find a letter from him when I -return to New York, and he also promised to write you in care of the -provost marshal at Baton Rouge.” - -There was one thing Jack did before he went back to New Orleans that at -first disgusted Rodney Gray, though he was afterward very glad of it. He -paid over to Mr. Randolph every dollar his twenty bales sold for in New -York, not even deducting the _Hyperion’s_ freight bill, so that -unfortunate gentleman was not quite as badly off as he thought. He had a -little money with which to make a new start when the war ended. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - CONCLUSION. - -One of the most soul-stirring scenes that Rodney Gray ever witnessed -occurred a short time subsequent to the fall of Vicksburg. He and his -father and Ned Griffin stood on the Baton Rouge levee and saw the -steamer _Imperial_ dash by on her way to New Orleans. The swift vessel, -which came from St. Louis, moved as if she were a living thing and knew -that she was speaking not only to the Confederacy, but to the world. To -the Confederates she said that the last vestige of their power and -authority had disappeared from the Mississippi forever; that its waters -were free to the commerce of the great West, which should nevermore be -interrupted. And to France and England, who had been hoping and plotting -for our downfall, she said that “thenceforth the country was to be one -nation, under one flag, with Liberty and Union forever.” - -Exciting and interesting events happened rapidly after that, but we can -touch upon but few of them, for our “War Series” ought to end with the -war record of the characters that have appeared in it. Rodney, who was -waiting impatiently for Sailor Jack to make his appearance, spent the -most of his time on the Baton Rouge levee, so as to be the first to -welcome him when he came up with his trading boat. On one memorable -night he reached home after dark, as he usually did, put his horse into -the stable-yard, and went into the house; and there, just as we found -him on a former occasion, seated in Rodney’s own rocking-chair, with his -feet resting upon the back of another and a book in his hand, was Dick -Graham. When Rodney entered the room Dick merely turned his head -slightly and looked at him as he might have done if they had parted an -hour or two before. - -“I always knew you had cheek,” exclaimed Rodney, as soon as he could -speak. “Dick, old boy, how are you?” - -“Pretty and well, thank you,” answered Dick, dropping the book and -jumping to his feet. - -We shall not attempt to describe that meeting, for we could not do it -justice. Just consider that they have got through gushing over each -other, and that they are sitting down quietly, talking like veterans who -have seen fifteen months of the hardest kind of service. - -“I don’t know how I missed seeing you,” said Rodney, “for I was on the -levee almost all day yesterday, and saw every boat that came in. How did -you get home? and where did you leave your folks?” - -“I got home easy enough, and left the folks in St. Louis. My discharge -from Bragg’s army put me on the right side of both rebs and Yanks, and -the money you so generously provided brought me all the grub I wanted. I -found the folks at home, but they didn’t remain there long after I -joined them, for there was almost too much guerilla warfare going on in -Kansas and western Missouri to make it pleasant for non-combatants. So -we dug out for St. Louis, and we’ve been there ever since. I couldn’t -get a letter to you, but I knew I could come myself as soon as the river -was opened, and here I am. A pass from the provost marshal took me -through the lines, and Mr. Turnbull was kind enough to hitch up a team -and bring me to your father’s house, where I stopped last night. I heard -some astonishing stories about Marcy and that sailor brother of his, and -am sorry indeed that Marcy has gone home to stay. I should like much to -see him.” - -“And he would be delighted to see you, but I don’t look for him until -this trouble is all over. Sailor Jack is liable to come along any day; -and Dick, we’ll go with him and help him buy cotton.” - -“Oh, you needn’t think that you and Jack are going to have a picnic,” -replied Dick with a smile. “I talked with some of the officers of the -boat on my way down, and they seemed to think that Uncle Sam’s tin-clads -will have all they can do to keep the river clear of guerillas. They’ll -not let traders take cotton out of the country if they can help it.” - -It goes without saying that in Dick Graham’s company Rodney was almost -as happy as he desired to be. He was blessed with perfect health, his -family had in a great measure escaped the horrors of war which fell to -the lot of so many others, there was no cotton in the woods for him to -worry over, the man Lambert, who was a thorn in his side for so many -months, had been sent to Camp Douglas for his merciless persecution of -the Union people in the settlement, his father’s check was good at the -bank for a larger amount than it had ever been before, and one of the -few things Rodney had to wish for now was that the war might end with -the battle of Gettysburg. Many brave soldiers on both sides declared -that would have been the result of the fight if the arrogance of Jeff -Davis had not stood in the way. He continued to slaughter men and -desolate homes in the vain effort to make himself the head of a new -nation. Great battles were yet to be fought to satisfy one man’s -ambition and desire for power. Hood’s army of forty-five thousand men -was to be annihilated at Nashville, and Sherman’s march to the sea -accomplished before the “day of Appomattox” dawned upon the country. And -Sailor Jack was to try his hand at being a trader. - -He made his appearance about a week after Dick Graham did, and quite as -unexpectedly, and so the boys were not on the levee to meet him. He -secured a pass from the provost marshal, borrowed a horse, and rode out -to his uncle’s plantation. Dick Graham had never seen him before, but -when he got through shaking hands he was willing to believe that the -sailor was glad to make his acquaintance. - -“If I do say it myself I think I am well equipped for the business,” -said Jack in response to Rodney’s inquiries. “My boat is the _Venango_, -which is guaranteed to carry a full deck-load on a heavy dew, my -officers are all river men and my deck-hands whites; for I wasn’t going -to take darkies among the rebels to be captured and sent back into -slavery.” - -“Why, Jack,” said Mrs. Gray, “you talk as if you were going into -danger.” - -“Well, I am not as sanguine of keeping out of it as I was a few weeks -ago,” said the sailor. “If I can hold fast to the _Venango_ until I can -load up the _Hyperion_ twice, I shall think myself lucky. And I shall -make a good thing out of it besides.” - -Mr. Gray did not raise any objections when Rodney and Dick made ready to -accompany Jack to Baton Rouge on the following morning, for he knew that -if he were a boy he would want to go himself. He went with them to the -city, and stood on the levee when the _Venango_ backed away from it and -turned her head up the river. When the boys could no longer distinguish -him among the crowd which had assembled to see them off, they went into -the cabin that Jack occupied in common with the river captain whom he -had hired to run the vessel, and sat down to wait for dinner. - -“This looks to me like hunting for a needle in a haystack,” said Rodney. -“How are you going to manage? Do you intend to keep on up the river -until someone hails you with the information that he has cotton to -sell?” - -“Not precisely,” laughed Jack. “We don’t do business in that uncertain -way. My first landing will be at a plantation ten miles above Bayou -Sara, if you know where that is, and there I hope to find cotton enough -to load this boat about four times.” - -“Why, how did you hear of it?” - -“I received my orders from our agent in New Orleans, if that is what you -mean; but how he heard of it I don’t know, and didn’t think to inquire. -I wish this steamer was four times bigger than she is.” - -“Why didn’t you charter a large one while you were about it?” - -“I couldn’t, for their owners were too anxious to have them go back to -their regular trade, which has so long been interrupted by the blockade -at Vicksburg. They can make more money at it.” - -After dinner had been served and eaten in what had once been the -_Venango’s_ passenger cabin, but which was now given over to the use of -the officers of the boat, the boys walked out on the boiler-deck and saw -a stern-wheeler coming toward them with a big bone in her teeth. She was -painted a sort of dirt color that did not show very plainly against the -background of the high bank she was passing, and it was a long time -before the boys could make her out; but they told each other that she -was the oddest looking craft they had ever seen. She had no “Texas” -(that is the name given to the cabin in which the officers sleep), and -her pilot house stood on the roof of her passenger cabin. Her main deck -was not open like the _Venango’s_, but was inclosed with casemates -provided with port-holes, two in the bow and three on the side that was -turned toward them. She was following the channel in the right of the -bend while the light-draft trading boat was holding across the point of -the bar on the opposite side, so that there was the width of the river -between them; but when they came abreast of each other, the stranger’s -bow began swinging around, and in a few minutes she was running back up -the Mississippi in company with the _Venango_, and only a few rods -astern. - -“She must be one of the mosquito fleet—a tin-clad,” exclaimed Dick. -“They say the river is full of them, but I didn’t happen to see one on -my way down. She and her kind are intended to fight guerillas.” - -“That’s what she is,” said Jack. “And she’s the first I ever saw.” - -“But what is she following us for?” asked Rodney. “Perhaps she wants to -see your papers.” - -“Then why doesn’t she whistle five times to let me know that she wants -to communicate?” answered Jack. “She is giving us a convoy.” - -“It’s very kind of Admiral Porter, or whoever it was told her to do it,” -said Rodney. “If we are to be protected in this way we shall never have -anything to fear from guerillas. She has six broadside guns, two -bow-chasers, and a field howitzer on her roof, nine in all. She ought to -make a good fight.” - -“Oh, she will do well enough for guerillas,” said Jack, “but how long do -you imagine she would stay above water if a battery should open on her?” - -Jack Gray was not the only one who had little faith in tin-clads, but -some of the most desperate engagements that were fought in Western -waters were fought by these very vessels. If they wanted to go anywhere -they did not stop because there was a battery in their way. Take one -exploit of the _Juliet_ as a fair specimen of what they could do as -often as the exigencies of the service demanded it. When this fleet -little gunboat was commanded by Harry Gorringe, the man who afterward -brought over the Egyptian obelisk that now stands in Central Park, New -York, she carried Admiral Porter past a long line of Confederate -batteries, which poured upon her a fire so accurate and rapid that -thirty-five shells were exploded inside her casemates in less than three -minutes. The engineer on watch was killed with his hand on the throttle, -but her machinery was not touched; and finding that she had come through -the ordeal safe if not sound, she rounded to and went back to help a -vessel which had not been so fortunate as herself. The _Venango’s_ -escort kept company with her until she turned in to the plantation where -Jack hoped to obtain his first load of cotton, and then turned about and -went down the river again, Jack and the boys waving their thanks to the -officers who stood on her boiler-deck, and the _Venango’s_ pilot wishing -her good luck and warning the master of the plantation at the same time -by giving a long blast on his whistle. - -Sailor Jack began his trading at a fortunate time and under the most -favorable conditions. Not only was he one of the first to enter the -field after Vicksburg fell, but the men with whom his mother’s thirty -thousand dollars enabled him to form partnership were so influential and -shrewd, and had so many ways of finding out things which no one inside -the Union lines was supposed to know anything about, that Jack never -left port without knowing right where to find his next cargo of cotton. -That is to say, he knew it on every occasion except one, and then he was -ordered into a trap which he would have kept out of if he had been left -to himself. - -The cotton he found above Bayou Sara was on what was known as the -Stratton plantation, and there was so much of it that he had to make -four trips to carry it to New Orleans, where it was loaded into the -_Hyperion’s_ hold. One day when his own deck-hands and all the -plantation darkies were busy loading for the last run, Jack was -approached by three men in butternut, who wanted to know what he was -giving for cotton, whether he paid in greenbacks or Confederate scrip, -and if he would be willing to run up the river two hundred miles farther -and get a thousand bales that several citizens up there were anxious to -sell. - -“Which side of the river is the cotton on?” asked Jack. - -“Over there,” said one of the men, pointing toward the opposite shore. - -“Too many rebs,” said Jack shortly. - -“Thar haint been ary reb in our country fur more’n six months, dog-gone -if thar has,” replied the man earnestly. - -“Well, I can’t make any promises. The matter does not rest with me, but -with the agent in New Orleans.” - -“I suppose you pay cash on delivery?” - -“Hardly. I don’t carry enough money to make it an object for prowling -guerillas to rob me.” - -“What’s Stratton got to show fur the cotton of his’n you have tooken -down the river?” - -“Due-bills, which will be cashed on sight.” - -“But he’ll have to go to New Orleans to have ’em cashed, an’ me an’ my -neighbors dassent go thar. We’ve been in the Confedrit army.” - -“Is there no Union man up there whom you can trust to do business for -you?” - -“Thar aint one of that sort within forty mile of us.” - -“Then you are in a bad way, and I don’t know how you will work it to get -greenbacks for your cotton.” - -“Couldn’t you run up there an’ buy it out an’ out if we gin you a little -somethin’ for your trouble?” - -“No, I couldn’t. I am not the only trader there is on the river, and if -you watch out you may find somebody willing to take the risk. I am not -willing.” - -“They gave up mighty easy,” observed Rodney, as the three men turned -away and walked slowly up the bank. - -“Don’t you know the reason?” replied Jack. “They had no use for me when -they found that I don’t carry a large sum of money with me. They haven’t -a bale of cotton, and I doubt if they have been in the rebel army. They -are guerillas and robbers like those in Missouri that Dick told us -about. No doubt I shall have to go up into that country after this lower -river has been cleared of cotton, but I’ll tell the captain to keep as -far from the Arkansaw shore as the channel will let him go.” - -This little incident reminded the boys that the war was not yet ended, -and that they might hear more about it at any time. They heard more -about it when they arrived at New Orleans and found the steamer _Von -Phul_ lying at the levee with her cabin shot full of holes. She had been -fired into by a battery of field-pieces twenty miles below Memphis, but -her captain was brave, as most of the river men were, and could not be -stopped as long as his engines were in working order. He reported the -matter to the captain of the first gunboat he met, and the latter -hastened up and shelled the woods until he set them on fire; but the -battery that did the mischief was probably a dozen miles away. - -“There’s no telling how long it will be before we shall come here with -our boat looking just like that,” said Jack. “And the worst of it is, we -shall have to take whatever the rebs please to give us without firing a -shot in reply. I don’t like that pretty well.” - -But for a long time the _Venango_ was a lucky vessel. She was not -obliged to go very far out of reach of a gunboat to find her cargoes, -for the planters who owned cotton took pains to place it on the river at -points where it would be under Federal protection. But the supply was -exhausted after a while, and then Jack was ordered into the dreaded -Arkansas region, where guerillas were plenty and gunboats and soldiers -stationed far apart. Then their troubles began, and Rodney and Dick -smelled powder again. On one trip the _Venango_ was fired into at three -different points, but owing to her speed and the width of the river, -which was almost bank full, she escaped without a scratch. On another -occasion the rebels shot with better aim, and sent a shell through one -of her smoke-stacks and two more through her cabin; but little damage -was done, for the missiles did not explode until they passed through the -steamer and struck the bank on the opposite side. After that it was -seldom that Jack reported to his agent without adding: “Of course I was -fired into on the way down,” and sometimes he was obliged to say that he -had had men killed or wounded. But that was to be expected. A wooden -boat couldn’t make a business of running batteries at regular intervals -without losing men once in a while. - -The winter passed in this way, Rodney and Dick never missing a trip, and -all the while the agent was besieged by planters living along the -Arkansas shore who had cotton to sell, who had permits to ship it and -papers to prove that they had always been loyal to the government, and -who were ready to stake their reputation as gentlemen upon the truth of -the statement that the trading boat that came to their landings would -not run the slightest risk of falling into the hands of guerillas. When -the agent spoke to Jack about it the latter said: - -“If you want to take the responsibility, why, all right. If you order me -to go after that cotton I’ll go; but before you do it, I’d like to have -you recall the fact that the trading boats _Tacoma_ and _George -Williams_ were all right and made money until they were sent to the -Arkansas shore, and then they went up in smoke. And every shot that has -been fired at my boat came from the west bank of the river.” - -“This cotton is at Horseshoe Bend opposite Friar’s Point,” continued the -agent, “and you will have five or six gunboats within less than a dozen -miles of you.” - -“What of that?” replied Jack. “A party of half a dozen men could set -fire to the boat and ride away to Texas before the gunboats would know -anything about it. They might as well be a hundred miles away.” - -“And more,” the agent went on, “two of the planters who own this cotton -are willing to remain here as hostages, and they say that if anything -happens to you or your boat we can do what we please with them.” - -“What of that?” repeated Jack. “If the _Venango_ is burned, who is going -to punish those hostages? We have no right to do it, and you do not for -a moment suppose that General Banks would interest himself in the -matter? He’s got government business to attend to, and don’t care a cent -what happens to us or any other civilians. I’ll go after the cotton if -you say so, but you’ll never see the _Venango_ again, and the firm will -have to pay for her.” - -This frightened the agent for a while, and he told Jack to stay on the -safe side of the river and let the Arkansaw people get their cotton to -market the best way they could. These orders remained in force about -three months, and then came a fateful day when the only cotton the agent -knew anything about was on the Arkansas side, eight miles above -Skipwith’s Landing. - -“I really think it will be a safe undertaking,” said the agent, “for you -will be within plain sight of two iron-clads and the ram _Samson_, which -are lying at Skipwith’s.” - -“I wouldn’t give that for all the help I’ll get from the whole of them,” -declared Jack, snapping his fingers in the air. “They’ll not know that -trouble has come to me till they see my boat in flames, and how long -will it take one of those tubs of iron-clads to get up steam and run -eight miles against the current of the Mississippi? The _Venango_ will -be in ashes before one of them will come within shelling distance of -us.” - -“But there’s the _Samson_. She can run seventeen miles an hour against a -four-mile current.” - -“And what is the _Samson_ but a carpenter shop, with no guns and a crew -of darkies? Do you want me to go there or not?” - -The agent did what Longstreet is said to have done when General Lee told -him to order Pickett’s useless charge at Gettysburg; he looked down at -the ground and evaded a direct answer. - -“We want cotton enough to fill out the _Hyperion’s_ cargo,” said he, -“and that’s the only batch on the river that I have been able to hear -of.” - -“Then I’ll start after it in less than an hour; but whether or not I’ll -get it is another and a deeper question. Good-by.” - -Jack walked off whistling, for trouble sat lightly on his broad -shoulders, but the moment he stepped on the _Venango’s_ boiler-deck and -faced the two boys sitting there, they knew what had happened as well as -they did when it was explained to them. - -“I can see Arkansas written all over you,” exclaimed Rodney. - -“And can you see that I want you two to be ready to leave the boat at -Baton Rouge?” replied Jack. “We’ll not make a landing, but just run -close enough to give you a chance to jump.” - -“I never could jump worth a cent,” said Dick. - -“Look here, Jack, we’re not little boys to be disposed of in any such -way as you propose. We have seen as much service as you have, and if it -is all the same to you we’ll stay here. I am not going home to worry my -folks with the report that you are going into such danger that you -thought it best to drop us overboard,” chimed in Rodney. - -“If the guerillas catch us they’ll only put us afoot,” observed Dick. -“That’s what they did with the _Tacoma’s_ crew.” - -Good-natured Jack turned on his heel and walked away, showing by his -actions that he did not expect his order to be obeyed. In an hour’s time -the _Venango_ was on her way up the river. She passed Skipwith’s Landing -the next night after dark, running close enough in to give the boys an -indistinct view of the long black hull of the ram _Samson_, lying -alongside the repair shops, and the battle-scarred iron-clads at anchor -a short distance farther up, and in due time she was whistling for the -landing on the Arkansas shore eight miles above. It was dark there, and -the boys could see nothing but a dense forest outlined against the sky, -and not the first sign of a clearing; but that there was somebody on the -watch was made evident a few minutes later, for an iron torch basket -filled with blazing “fat wood,” such as steamers use when making a -landing or coaling at night, was planted upon the levee, and the pilot -steered in by the aid of the light it threw out. There were three men on -the levee and a few bales of cotton near by. - -“Is that all you have?” demanded Jack, as the _Venango’s_ bow touched -the bank and a couple of deck-hands sprang ashore with a line. - -“What boat is that?” asked one of the men. - -Jack gave her name, adding the information that he had been sent there -for cotton, and there wasn’t enough in sight to load a skiff. - -“Oh, we’ve got plenty more back there in the woods,” was the answer. - -“But I don’t want it back there in the woods,” shouted Jack, from his -perch on the roof. “I want it on the levee where I can get at it.” - -“We’ve got teams enough to haul it out faster than you can load it. It’s -all right, cap’n. I had a long talk with your agent only a few days -ago.” - -“It’s all wrong, and you may depend upon it,” said Rodney in a low tone. - -Jack Gray was of the same opinion, and if he had not been afraid that -the men with whom he was associated in business would accuse him of -cowardice, he would have cut the bow-line, which had by this time been -made fast to a tree on the bank, and backed away with all possible -speed. Instead of doing that, he descended the stairs and walked down -the gang-plank, while Rodney and Dick drew off to one side to compare -notes. - -“If it’s all right, what’s the reason they didn’t have the cotton ready -for us?” said the latter. - -“That’s what I’d be pleased to know,” said Rodney. “Do you believe -there’s any cotton here?” - -“Not a bale except the few you see on the levee, and which were put -there for a blind. Your cousin believes he’s in a trap or else his face -told a wrong story.” - -“That’s my opinion, too. Now don’t you think it would be a good plan for -us to put the skiff into the water and go down and tell those gunboats -about it?” - -“It might, but what shall we tell them? There’s been nothing done yet,” -replied Dick, as he followed Rodney to the main-deck. - -That was true, but there was something done by the time they got the -skiff overboard. It was lying bottom up on the guard just abaft the door -that gave entrance into the engine-room on the port side, that is, the -side away from the bank, and the oars that belonged to it were stowed -under the thwarts. Jack was ashore, the mates were on the forecastle, -the deck-hands busy with the breast and stern lines, the captain was at -his post on the roof, the engineer was at the throttle, slowly turning -the wheel to work the boat broadside to the bank, and there was no one -to observe their movements. Noiselessly they pushed the skiff into the -water, then stepped in and shipped the oars and pulled toward the -steamer’s bow, edging away a little into the darkness so that they could -not be seen by anyone on shore. A subdued exclamation of surprise and -alarm burst from their lips when they pulled far enough ahead so that -they could look over the bow toward the cotton-bales on the bank. There -were a score of men there now, and with the exception of the three who -were there when the boat touched the bank, they were all armed and wore -spurs. - -“Guerillas?” whispered Dick. - -“Do you think we will have anything to tell the gunboats?” asked Rodney. -“Turn her around and pull the best you know how.” - -“It looks cowardly to run away and leave Jack,” replied Dick, laying out -all his strength on his oar. - -“We wouldn’t do it if we could help him in any other way. But they won’t -hurt him. It’s the boat they’re after,” said Rodney; but even while the -words were on his lips he could not help wondering if the guerillas did -not expect to find a large sum of money on the boat, and whether their -disappointment would not make them so angry that they would take -vengeance on somebody. But there was no way in which he could stop it -except by bringing a gunboat to the rescue, and with this object in view -he “pulled the best he knew how.” He and Dick kept the skiff in the -channel in order to get the benefit of the current, and in less time -than they thought to do so, brought themselves within hailing distance -of one of the iron-clads. - -“Boat ahoy!” shouted a hoarse voice from her deck. - -“Trading boat _Venango_!” responded Rodney, hoping to give the officer -of the deck some idea of the nature of their business. - -The latter must have heard and understood, for he told them to come -alongside; and when the order had been obeyed, not without a good deal -of difficulty, for the current ran like a mill sluice, and the officer -of the deck had listened to their hasty story, he went below to speak to -the captain, who, after a long delay, sent word for them to be brought -into the cabin. But the sequel proved that he had done something in the -meantime. He had told the ensign on watch to arouse the executive, to -have two companies of small-arm men called away, and to send word to the -_Samson_ to raise steam immediately. Being a regular, the captain lost -no time. After listening to what the boys had to say, he gave them -permission to go aboard the _Samson_ with the small-arm men, and in ten -minutes more the boat that could run seventeen miles an hour against a -four-mile current was ploughing her way up the river at an astonishing -rate of speed. But the guerillas hadn’t wasted any time either. Before -the ram had left the iron-clads a mile astern, a small, bright light, -which grew larger and brighter every instant, shone through the darkness -ahead, and presently the _Venango_ came floating down with the current, -a mass of flame. After robbing her of everything of value, the guerillas -had applied the torch and turned her adrift. But where were Jack Gray -and her crew? This question was answered at day-light the next morning -when Rodney and Dick pulled the skiff back to the landing, where they -found Jack sitting on a cotton-bale, and whittling a stick as composedly -as though such a thing as a guerilla had never been heard of. His crew -were asleep behind the levee, and Jack was keeping watch for a steamer -bound down. The guerillas hadn’t bothered him any to speak of, he said, -although they did swear a little when they learned that he had no money. -They affirmed that if they couldn’t make a dollar a pound out of their -cotton, the Yankees shouldn’t do it, and they would burn every trading -boat that Jack or anybody else put on the river. But they never burned -another boat for Jack. A steamer which came along that afternoon took -him and his crew to New Orleans, and there he took leave of the boys, -who did not see him again for a long time. But before they parted, -however, he showed them a letter from Marcy, in which the latter stated -that Charley Bowen had shipped on a Union gunboat at Plymouth. Being a -deserter from the rebel army, he was afraid to enlist in the land -forces, for if he were captured and recognized he would certainly be -shot to death. He thought there would be little danger of that if he -went to sea. - -The trading business having been broken up Rodney was anxious to see his -home once more, and that was where he and Dick started for as soon as -they had seen the _Hyperion_ drop down the river with Jack Gray on -board. Rodney’s father and mother had heard of the loss of the -_Venango_, but they did not know what had become of her company, and the -boys’ return was an occasion for rejoicing. At the end of the month Dick -Graham also went home, and then Rodney was lonely indeed. If he hadn’t -had plenty of work and energy enough to go at it, it is hard to tell -what he would have done with himself. For want of some better way of -passing his leisure moments he made an effort to learn what had become -of Billings, Cole, Dixon, and all the other Barrington boys who had -promised, with him, to enlist in the Confederate army within twenty-four -hours after they reached home. He knew their several addresses, but the -only one he heard from was Dixon, the tall Kentuckian who, good rebel as -he was, always interfered whenever the hot heads among the academy boys -tried to haul down the Old Flag and run the Stars and Bars up in its -place. And the reply he received did not come from Dixon himself but -from his sister, who told Rodney that her brother had been killed at the -head of his regiment while gallantly leading a charge upon a Federal -battery. He went into the Confederate army a private and died a colonel. - -“Bully for Dixon,” said Rodney, with tears in his eyes. “He always was a -brave boy.” - -At last Atlanta fell, Sherman marched to the sea, the battle of Five -Forks was fought, the grand result of which was to reduce General Lee’s -army of seventy-six thousand to less than twenty-nine thousand men, and -then came the surrender at Appomattox. A short time afterward came also -a joyous letter from Marcy Gray, in which he said that although Plymouth -had once been recaptured by the rebels, aided by their formidable -iron-clad, the _Albemarle_, which had worsted the Union gunboats every -time they met her, the city did not remain in the hands of the enemy any -longer than it took Lieutenant Cushing to blow up the iron-clad with his -torpedo; and then, their main-stay being gone, the rebels again -surrendered. He and his mother had not been troubled in any way since -the night Captain Fletcher took him to Williamston jail. If it had not -been for the papers that occasionally came into their hands, they would -not have known that dreadful battles were being fought in the next -State. There had been peace and quiet in the settlement since Allison, -Goodwin, and Beardsley were bushwhacked. It was a terrible thing for -Christians to do, but the refugees had been driven to it, and through no -fault of their own. The two foragers who were captured on the night that -Ben Hawkins was surprised in his father’s house, and who were sent South -to act as guards at the Andersonville prison pen, had escaped after a -few months’ service, and were now at home with their families. So were -Hawkins and all the rest of the prisoners who were captured and paroled -at Roanoke Island, and they had never been molested. No word had been -received from Charley Bowen since he shipped in the Union Navy, but -Marcy hoped to see him again at no distant day, for he never could -forget that Charley saved his life. Sailor Jack had made a “good thing” -out of his trading, and had promised his mother that he would not go to -sea any more. As a family they were prosperous and hoped to be happy, -now that the cause of the war was dead and the war itself ended. Marcy -concluded his interesting letter by saying: - -“While I write, the flag my Barrington girl gave me is waving from the -house-top, and there is not a rebel banner floating to taint the breeze -that kisses it. May it ever be so—one flag, one country, one destiny.” - -“Amen,” said Rodney Gray solemnly. - - - - - - - - - THE END OF THE SERIES. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - THE - FAMOUS - CASTLEMON - BOOKS. - - -------------- - - BY - HARRY - CASTLEMON. - -[Illustration: - - Specimen Cover of the Gunboat Series. -] - -No author of the present day has become a greater favorite with boys -than “Harry Castlemon;” every book by him is sure to meet with hearty -reception by young readers generally. His naturalness and vivacity lead -his readers from page to page with breathless interest, and when one -volume is finished the fascinated reader, like Oliver Twist, asks “for -more.” - -⁂ Any volume sold separately. - - ------- - - =GUNBOAT SERIES.= by Harry Castlemon. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully $7 50 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Frank, the Young Naturalist= 1 25 - - =Frank in the Woods= 1 25 - - =Frank on the Prairie= 1 25 - - =Frank on a Gunboat= 1 25 - - =Prank before Vicksburg= 1 25 - - =Frank on the Lower Mississippi= 1 25 - - =GO AHEAD SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Go Ahead=; or, The Fisher Boy’s Motto 1 25 - - =No Moss=; or, The Career of a Rolling Stone 1 25 - - =Tom Newcombe=; or, The Boy of Bad Habits 1 25 - - =ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Frank at Don Carlos’ Rancho= 1 25 - - =Frank among the Rancheros= 1 25 - - =Frank in the Mountains= 1 25 - - =SPORTSMAN’S CLUB SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., $3 75 - 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. - In box - - =The Sportsman’s Club in the Saddle= 1 25 - - =The Sportsman’s Club Afloat= 1 25 - - =The Sportsman’s Club among the Trappers= 1 25 - - =FRANK NELSON SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. $3 75 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Snowed Up=; or, The Sportsman’s Club in the Mts 1 25 - - =Frank Nelson in the Forecastle=; or, The Sportsman’s Club 1 25 - among the Whalers - - =The Boy Traders=; or, The Sportsman’s Club among the Boers 1 25 - - =BOY TRAPPER SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =The Buried Treasure=; or, Old Jordan’s “Haunt” 1 25 - - =The Boy Trapper=; or, How Dave Filled the Order 1 25 - - =The Mail Carrier= 1 25 - - =ROUGHING IT SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =George in Camp=; or, Life on the Plains 1 25 - - =George at the Wheel=; or, Life in a Pilot House 1 25 - - =George at the Fort=; or, Life Among the Soldiers 1 25 - - =ROD AND GUN SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Don Gordon’s Shooting Box= 1 25 - - =Rod and Gun= 1 25 - - =The Young Wild Fowlers= 1 25 - - =FOREST AND STREAM SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., $3 75 - 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. - In box - - =Joe Wayring at Home=; or, Story of a Fly Rod 1 25 - - =Snagged and Sunk=; or, The Adventures of a Canvas Canoe 1 25 - - =Steel Horse=; or, The Rambles of a Bicycle 1 25 - - =WAR SERIES.= By Harry Castlemon. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully 5 00 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =True to his Colors= 1 25 - - =Rodney, the Partisan= 1 25 - - =Marcy, the Blockade Runner= 1 25 - - =Marcy, the Refugee= 1 25 - - =OUR FELLOWS=; or, Skirmishes with the Swamp Dragoons. By 1 25 - Harry Castlemon. 16mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra - - ALGER’S - RENOWNED - BOOKS. - - -------------- - - BY - HORATIO - ALGER, JR. - -[Illustration: - - Specimen Cover of the Ragged Dick Series. -] - -Horatio Alger, Jr., has attained distinction as one of the most popular -writers of books for boys, and the following list comprises all of his -best books. - -⁂ Any volume sold separately. - - ------- - - =RAGGED DICK SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 6 vols., 12mo. $7 50 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Ragged Dick=; or, Street Life in New York 1 25 - - =Fame and Fortune=; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter 1 25 - - =Mark, the Match Boy=; or, Richard Hunter’s Ward 1 25 - - =Rough and Ready=; or, Life among the New York Newsboys 1 25 - - =Ben, the Luggage Boy=; or, Among the Wharves 1 25 - - =Rufus and Rose=; or, the Fortunes of Rough and Ready 1 25 - - =TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 5 00 - 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in - colors. In box - - =Tattered Tom=; or, The Story of a Street Arab 1 25 - - =Paul, the Peddler=; or, The Adventures of a Young Street 1 25 - Merchant - - =Phil, the Fiddler=; or, The Young Street Musician 1 25 - - =Slow and Sure=; or, From the Sidewalk to the Shop 1 25 - - =TATTERED TOM SERIES.= (SECOND SERIES.) 4 vols., 12mo. Fully $5 00 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Julius=; or the Street Boy Out West 1 25 - - =The Young Outlaw=; or, Adrift in the World 1 25 - - =Sam’s Chance and How He Improved it= 1 25 - - =The Telegraph Boy= 1 25 - - =LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, $5 00 - Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, - printed in colors. In box - - =Luck and Pluck=; or John Oakley’s Inheritance 1 25 - - =Sink or Swim=; or, Harry Raymond’s Resolve 1 25 - - =Strong and Steady=; or, Paddle Your Own Canoe 1 25 - - =Strive and Succeed=; or, The Progress of Walter Conrad 1 25 - - =LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES.= (SECOND SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, $5 00 - Jr. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, - printed in colors. In box - - =Try and Trust=; or, The Story of a Bound Boy 1 25 - - =Bound to Rise=; or Harry Walton’s Motto 1 25 - - =Risen from the Ranks=; or, Harry Walton’s Success 1 25 - - =Herbert Carter’s Legacy=; or, The Inventor’s Son 1 25 - - =CAMPAIGN SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In - box. - - =Frank’s Campaign=; or, The Farm and the Camp 1 25 - - =Paul Prescott’s Charge= 1 25 - - =Charlie Codman’s Cruise= 1 25 - - =BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., $5 00 - 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. - In box - - =Brave and Bold=; or, The Story of a Factory Boy 1 25 - - =Jack’s Ward=; or, The Boy Guardian 1 25 - - =Shifting for Himself=; or, Gilbert Greyson’s Fortunes 1 25 - - =Wait and Hope=; or, Ben Bradford’s Motto 1 25 - - =PACIFIC SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. Fully $5 00 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =The Young Adventurer=; or, Tom’s Trip Across the Plains 1 25 - - =The Young Miner=; or, Tom Nelson in California 1 25 - - =The Young Explorer=; or, Among the Sierras 1 25 - - =Ben’s Nugget=; or, A Boy’s Search for Fortune. A Story of 1 25 - the Pacific Coast - - =ATLANTIC SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. $5 00 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =The Young Circus Rider=; or, The Mystery of Robert Rudd 1 25 - - =Do and Dare=; or, A Brave Boy’s Fight for Fortune 1 25 - - =Hector’s Inheritance=; or, Boys of Smith Institute 1 25 - - =Helping Himself=; or, Grant Thornton’s Ambition 1 25 - - =WAY TO SUCCESS SERIES.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., $5 00 - 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. - In box - - =Bob Burton= 1 25 - - =The Store Boy= 1 25 - - =Luke Walton= 1 25 - - =Struggling Upward= 1 25 - - -------------- - - NEW BOOK BY ALGER. - - =DIGGING FOR GOLD.= By Horatio Alger, Jr. Illustrated 12mo. 1 25 - Cloth, black, red and gold - - A - New Series - of Books. - - -------------- - - Indian Life - and - Character - Founded on - Historical - Facts. - -[Illustration: - - Specimen Cover of the Wyoming Series. -] - - By Edward S. Ellis. - -⁂ Any volume sold separately. - - ---------- - - =BOY PIONEER SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. $3 75 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Ned in the Block House=; or, Life on the Frontier 1 25 - - =Ned in the Woods.= A Tale of the Early Days in the West 1 25 - - =Ned on the River= 1 25 - - =DEERFOOT SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. In box containing the $3 75 - following. 3 vols., 12mo. Illustrated - - =Hunters of the Ozark= 1 25 - - =Camp in the Mountains= 1 25 - - =The Last War Trail= 1 25 - - =LOG CABIN SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Lost Trail= 1 25 - - =Camp Fire and Wigwam= 1 25 - - =Footprints in the Forest= 1 25 - - =WYOMING SERIES.= By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully $3 75 - illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Wyoming= 1 25 - - =Storm Mountain= 1 25 - - =Cabin in the Clearing= 1 25 - - ---------- - - NEW BOOKS BY EDWARD S. ELLIS. - - =Through Forest and Fire.= 12mo. Cloth 1 25 - - =On the Trail of the Moose.= 12mo. Cloth 1 25 - - - By C. A. Stephens. - - ------- - -Rare books for boys—bright, breezy, wholesome and instructive; full of -adventure and incident, and information upon natural history. They blend -instruction with amusement—contain much useful and valuable information -upon the habits of animals, and plenty of adventure, fun and jollity. - - =CAMPING OUT SERIES.= By C. A. Stephens. 6 vols., 12mo. $7 50 - Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box - - =Camping Out.= As recorded by “Kit” 1 25 - - =Left on Labrador=; or The Cruise of the Schooner Yacht 1 25 - “Curfew.” As recorded by “Wash” - - =Off to the Geysers=; or, The Young Yachters in Iceland. - As recorded by “Wade” 1 25 - - =Lynx Hunting.= From Notes by the author of “Camping Out” 1 25 - - =Fox Hunting.= As recorded by “Raed” 1 25 - - =On the Amazon=; or, The Cruise of the “Rambler.” As 1 25 - recorded by “Wash” - - ---------- - - By J. T. Trowbridge. - -These stories will rank among the best of Mr. Trowbridge’s books for the -young—and he has written some of the best of our juvenile literature. - - =JACK HAZARD SERIES.= By J. T. Trowbridge. 6 $7 50 - vols., 12mo. Fully Illustrated. Cloth, extra, - printed in colors. In box - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note - -Errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and -are noted here. The references are to the page and line in the original. -The following issues should be noted, along with the resolutions. - - 167.11 would have bee[e]n a national loss. Removed. - - 183.11 I lost no time in tak[ing] off my side-arms Added. Line - break error. - - 204.1 when we get ready [to ]take charge Added. Page - break error. - - 437.17 the money you so gener[er]ously provided Removed. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Sailor Jack, The Trader, by Harry Castlemon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAILOR JACK, THE TRADER *** - -***** This file should be named 54049-0.txt or 54049-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/0/4/54049/ - -Produced by KD Weeks, David Edwards and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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