RODNEY KEEPS HIS PROMISE.
When Captain Randolph was done with his leave-taking he hastened away
as if he feared that the escaped prisoners might change their minds and
call him back. He was out of sight in an instant, and when he was out
of hearing Rodney Gray said:
"Now we must _git_ ourselves. I don't know what sort of a story Tom
will tell when he gets home, but it is safe to say that he will make
himself out a very brave fellow, and urge his men to take up our trail
at once."
"You needn't trouble yourself about the Home Guards," said Ned.
"I don't; but if those same Home Guards should chance to stumble
upon the soldiers from Camp Pinckney, we'd have something to trouble
ourselves about, wouldn't we? So I say we had better move away from
here. Pick up that basket, somebody; and Ned, you take care of the
quilts, for we'll not need them. We shall lie by during the daytime and
travel at night. You haven't heard the last of this morning's work,
Ned, and neither have I."
"If that Home Guard gets you into trouble after what you have done for
him, find means to let the —th Michigan cavalry know it; and the first
time we scout through here we'll pay our respects to him," said Ben
hotly. "If it hadn't been for Griffin's mother, Captain Randolph would
have gone to a Northern stockade as sure as he is a living man."
"I'll bear that in mind," replied Ned. "Good-by, boys. So-long, Yanks."
"May the best of good luck always attend you, Johnny," said the
fugitives in concert.
This parting would have disgusted Captain Randolph if he had been there
to witness it, and might have led him to say: "This is another insult
that I've got to remember against the Griffin family," for there was a
good deal of friendly feeling manifested on both sides. Surly Ben did
not turn his back this time, but held fast to Ned with one hand, while
he pointed to the shoes he wore, with the other, and said:
"If I get away I shall have you to thank for it. I couldn't have walked
a mile with my feet on the ground as they were when you took pity on me
last night. If I can ever repay you I will."
"You have repaid me a hundred times over by letting Rodney and Dick go
free when you captured them a few days ago. So-long, Yanks."
"Fall in," said Rodney. "Good-by, Ned. I wish you would make it your
business to tell mother that you saw us safely off."
Ned began to roll up the quilts, the corporal shouldered the basket
containing the provisions, and Rodney led the way deeper into the
woods, the soldiers coming next in line and Dick Graham bringing up
the rear; and as he trudged along in silence he had much to say to
himself. Was this Rodney Gray, who was risking so much to guide these
ragged, foot-sore men to a place of safety, the same rabid Secessionist
who once wanted to ride rough-shod over everybody who stood up for
the Union; who had not scrupled to bring his own cousin into serious
difficulty on account of his loyalty to the Old Flag; who applauded so
lustily when the Mobile _Register_ said that Northern soldiers were
small-change knaves and vagrants who were fit for nothing but to be
whipped by niggers; and who declared he would not pull off his gray
suit until the South had gained her independence? We said that fifteen
months' experience in the army of the Confederacy, which never kept
a single one of the promises it made to those who enlisted under its
banner, had opened Rodney Gray's eyes; and although he still believed
in State Rights, he did not believe in fighting for a government that
had deliberately gone to work to make conscripts of its volunteers. Nor
did he longer believe that Northern men didn't know how to fight. The
way they thrashed him and his comrades in Missouri proved that they did.
Dick Graham was like Marcy Gray, Rodney's cousin. He loved the Union
and the flag that waved over it; but, unlike Marcy, he thought it
his duty to stand by his State. When Van Dorn was whipped at Pea
Ridge Dick Graham was willing to lay down his arms and give up the
useless struggle; but the government at Richmond wouldn't let him. It
made conscripts of him and all the other State men who had enlisted
under Governor Jackson's proclamation, and ordered them across the
Mississippi to join the Army of the Centre under Beauregard. Dick went
because he could not help himself, and did his duty faithfully while he
remained; but he had his discharge in his pocket now, and said there
would have to be a marked change in his feelings before he would swear
away his liberty again. There were many like him. He thought of all
the men in his company and regiment with whom he had been on terms of
intimacy, and could not name half a dozen who would have said a harsh
word to Rodney Gray if they had known what he was doing at that moment.
The most of them would have done the same thing and been glad of the
chance.
Although Rodney exercised little or no caution in threading his way
through the woods, he insisted that there should be no talking among
his followers. The slight rustling they made in the bushes might not
attract attention, because there were so many cattle and hogs running
at large in the timber; but the sound of a voice would betray them
to anyone who might happen to be within hearing. Their progress was
easy enough until they reached the place where the woods ended and the
broad, cultivated fields began, and then Rodney announced that it was
time for the fugitives to halt and get a little sleep if they could,
while he and Dick went on ahead to see how things looked.
"From here on there is little cover except such as we shall find in
blind ditches and behind bush-lined fences," said he. "You boys take
a bite and a nap, and Dick and I will go to that plantation house you
see over there, and inquire about our friends from Camp Pinckney. I
am somewhat anxious to know where they are. Don't be in any haste to
challenge or shoot when you hear us coming back."
"I suppose you know the people who live in that house," said Dick, as
he and Rodney started off, after taking leave of the Federals. "What
sort of a story are you going to tell them?"
"I am well acquainted with them," answered Rodney, "but whether or not
their friendship for our family would lead them to do these Yanks a
good turn, I can't say. I'll not trust them too far till I find out.
We'll tell them the truth so far as our war record is concerned, but
we're hog and critter hunting when they ask us what brought us into the
woods. And of course we know all about the escaped prisoners."
Rodney did not lead the way directly toward the house, but worked his
way along a fence until he reached a point from which the dwelling
could not be seen; and then he and Dick climbed over into the field and
struck out across it without making any further attempt at concealment.
It never occurred to them that possibly the little clump of trees that
hid the house might also hide something else from their view, but such
proved to be the case; for as Rodney walked around the corner of the
building with all the confidence of a welcome visitor, he was surprised
and frightened to find himself in the presence of the very men he came
to inquire about—the soldiers from Camp Pinckney, who were sitting or
lying at their ease under the shade of the trees, while the master of
the house and his family moved among them with steaming coffee-pots and
trays filled with something good to eat. Their hounds were lying close
by on the grass, their horses stood at the front fence with their heads
down as if asleep, and both looked as though they needed rest. The boys
made a mental note of these things and walked straight ahead as if they
belonged there, their approach being hailed with an exclamation of
delight from the owner of the plantation, who was the first to catch
sight of them.
"What do you mean, sir, by such conduct?" said Mr. Turnbull, passing his
well loaded tray to one of the soldiers and hastening to meet Rodney
with outstretched hand. "You've been at home five or six days, and this
is the first glimpse we have had of you. Come up and have a bite."
Rodney thanked him and presented his friend Dick, who was welcomed in
the same breezy way. Then they shook hands with the other members of
the family, and were made acquainted with the lieutenant who commanded
the soldiers—the one whom Captain Randolph had met and talked with the
day before. There was also a neighbor present who had come over to hear
what the soldiers had to say about the escaped prisoners, and about Tom
Randolph, whose mysterious disappearance was the talk of the planters
for miles around. Rodney was not pleased to see Mr. Biglin, that was
the neighbor's name, for he was a red-hot Secessionist, who denounced
Mr. Gray for his moderate views, and declared that every man who
retained a spark of love for the old Union ought to be shot on sight.
"Now I think we are all happy and comfortable," said Mr. Turnbull, when
the boys had been provided with plates and something to put on them.
"And that's better provender, I take it, than you got in the army; eh,
Rodney? How do you like army life anyway? And when are you going back?"
The lieutenant looked surprised, as Rodney and Dick knew he would,
and so they handed over their discharges to prove that they had seen
service, and had the right to be at home at that particular time.
"We're not going to be in any hurry," answered Rodney, who thought all
his neighbors ought to know how he felt on that point. "Since I came
home I have met many able-bodied civilians who were fierce for a fight
when this thing first broke out, and who haven't yet put on a gray
jacket. When I see those men in the front rank I'll go back, and not
before."
Mr. Biglin winced and glanced uneasily at the soldiers, for these
remarks came pretty near applying to him, as Rodney meant they should.
Mr. Turnbull was exempt by reason of his age, and he wasn't a very hot
Secessionist, either. His wife hastened to turn the conversation into
another channel by saying:
"O Rodney; did you hear anything of those escaped prisoners in your
neighborhood, and do you think they have killed or captured Tom
Randolph?"
"Small loss," began Mr. Turnbull, and then he was checked by a look
from his wife. The latter knew that every word that he uttered against
Tom would get to Mr. Randolph's ears by the shortest route, and she was
afraid of Home Guards.
"Randolph was down here last night looking for Tom," continued Mr.
Turnbull, "but he told a story that was too funny for me to believe. He
said Tom had gone out with his Home Guards to search for the prisoners,
but I know better than that."
"And Tom certainly did not go into the woods alone to hunt for them, so
what chance had the Yanks to kill or capture him?" added Rodney. "We
know that they were in our neighborhood yesterday, for some of these
soldiers told my mother so; but they never came near our house."
"I noticed you did not come by the road," observed the lieutenant.
"Have you been riding through the woods back of this plantation?"
"Dick and I have been walking through them, but not a horn nor a hoof
did we see," answered Rodney. "You know, Mr. Turnbull, that my father
will have a big lot of bacon and beef to pay to the government for the
exemption of two overseers; and just now I don't know where he is going
to get it."
"Ned Griffin is one overseer," said Mr. Turnbull. "Who's the other?"
"I am. I never was a good fighter. I think I can do the Confederacy
just as much service by working on a farm and raising grub for the
soldiers, as I can by staying in the army. At any rate I am going to
try it until some of my neighbors leave off fighting with their mouths
and shoulder a musket."
"That's fair, I'm sure," said the lieutenant; while the soldiers winked
and nodded at one another as if to say: "Our sentiments exactly." Mr.
Biglin saw it and it nettled him, for he had done a great deal of
fighting with his mouth, but every dollar he gave to aid the cause of
the South was fairly squeezed out of him.
"And while you are working one of your father's farms, I suppose you
will hold yourself in readiness to help any destitute Yankees who may
happen to come your way," said Mr. Biglin.
If Rodney and Dick had been the inexperienced boys they were when they
first entered the army, these startling words would have knocked them
out of their chairs. If Mr. Biglin didn't know what they had been
doing that morning, his language and actions seemed to indicate that
he suspected it. If that was the case, the information must have come
from Tom Randolph. He had had plenty of time to reach home and spread
the news far and wide. If Mr. Biglin had been content to stop right
there he might have left a bad impression upon the minds of some of his
auditors; but seeing that he had made Rodney and his friend uneasy, he
went on to say:
"I heard a fishy story about your being captured by Yankee soldiers who
were gentlemen enough to release you."
"There's nothing fishy about it," replied Rodney, greatly relieved. "I
said that Dick and I were captured and set free again between here and
Camp Pinckney, and it is nothing but the truth. I said, further, that if
I ever saw those men in trouble I would try my best to help them out;
and I appeal to these soldiers here to say if they wouldn't do the same."
"I would, if I could do it without bringing myself to the notice of my
superiors," said the lieutenant; while his men nodded at Rodney and one
another as they had done before.
"Well, I wouldn't," declared Mr. Biglin, in savage tones. "And more
than that, I would report every soldier or civilian whom I knew to be
guilty of such a thing."
"I thank you for your words," said Rodney to himself. "I know now that
you'll not do to tie to, and shall be careful that none of my doings
get to your ears."
Mrs. Turnbull saw that it was time for her to interfere again. Two of
her guests were becoming almost red in the face with anger, and her
woman's wit or something else told her that the conversation was taking
a dangerous turn. She had wondered from the first what brought Rodney
Gray so far from home on foot, and now she believed that she knew all
about it. She moved her chair to the side of Rodney's, and asked the
young soldier to tell her a story of army life; and as she did so, her
gaze wandered through the bushes and trees to the front fence, where
she saw one of Mr. Biglin's negroes dodging about, and evidently trying
to catch the eye of his master without attracting the attention of
anyone else in the yard. The circumstance increased her suspicions, but
she said very calmly:
"Your boy Bill is out there in the road, Mr. Biglin, and I think he
wants to tell you something."
"Then why don't he come in?" replied the planter. "He has been down in
the woods trying to locate a small drove of my hogs, and perhaps he has
found them."
"And perhaps he has found something else," was what Rodney's eyes and
Dick's said when they looked at each other; and they could hardly
conceal their agitation when they observed that Mrs. Turnbull was
keeping her gaze fixed on their faces.
"You, Bill!" shouted the planter. "Come here."
The negro came very reluctantly, and when he saw his master turn about
in his chair and look at him, he stopped and twisted his face into all
sorts of shapes and rolled up the whites of his eyes, trying by every
means in his power to make his master understand that he desired to say
a word to him in private.
"Well, why don't you speak?" demanded Mr. Biglin. "Did you find
anything down there?"
"Sah? Oh, ye—yes, sah; I found sumfin," replied the negro, in a tone
so significant that Mr. Biglin would have been dull indeed if he
had failed to understand him this time. With the remark that he had
better be getting along toward home he arose and followed the boy, who
promptly led the way toward the front gate.
"Peculiar man, that," said the lieutenant, rising from his comfortable
couch on the grass and stretching his arms. "He didn't even bid us
good-by. I reckon we'd best be getting along toward camp. Boots and
saddles!"
"Are you going to give up looking for those Yankees?" inquired Mr.
Turnbull, and from the bottom of his heart Rodney thanked him for
asking the question. He wanted to do it himself, but was afraid to
speak.
"I reckon I might as well," answered the officer, as his men got upon
their feet, aroused the slumbering hounds by snapping their fingers
at them, and hastened to obey the command. "I did think of taking in
those woods on my way to Mooreville, but don't suppose it would be of
any use. If the Yanks were there you two would have been likely to see
them, wouldn't you?" he added, nodding at Rodney.
"I am quite sure we would," was the reply; but after all he was not so
sure of it. The timber was thick; and, unless accompanied by dogs, a
whole regiment might have walked through it without seeing any signs of
a fugitive who took the least pains to conceal himself.
"That's what I thought," continued the lieutenant, "and as my men and
animals are somewhat worn with travel, I think I will give it up and go
home. I would have captured those men yesterday if the Mooreville Home
Guards had been worth their salt. I may have something to say to my
colonel about it."
While the lieutenant talked he shook hands with the planter and the
two boys, lifted his cap to Mrs. Turnbull, and thanked her for the
excellent dinner she had given his hungry men, and walked toward the
place where he had hitched his horse, accompanied by their host. The
latter's wife remained behind; and when she saw the officer swing
himself into his saddle she made some slight apology to Dick, and
motioned Rodney to follow her into the house.
"What's down there in the woods behind our plantation?" were the first
words she said to him when they were alone.
"Why, Mrs. Turnbull," began Rodney, "how should I know? I assure you I
am at a loss——"
"You know what I mean, Rodney Gray, and you can't deceive me,"
interrupted the lady with so much earnestness that Rodney saw it was
useless to argue with her. "You never in your life before came to this
house on foot; you were frightened when you found the soldiers here;
you became angry the moment Mr. Biglin spoke of Yankees; you were
frightened again when the boy Bill intimated that he had a word to say
to his master in private; and all through—— Aha! You do know what I
mean, don't you?"
"Mrs. Turnbull," replied Rodney in a husky voice. "They are the men I
promised to help if I could. You'll not betray them?"
"I ought to scold you for speaking such words to me, and some day I
will," said the lady hastily. "But just now I want to warn you against
Mr. Biglin. I am sorry to say that he is not trustworthy."
When she ceased speaking she stepped to the window and looked out. She
stood there a moment and beckoned Rodney to her side. The Confederate
soldiers had disappeared up the road in a cloud of dust, and Mr. Biglin
was just riding by the house. It was plain that he was in a hurry,
for he did not stop to pick up his hat, which flew off just as Rodney
caught sight of him, but dug his heels into his mule's sides in the
effort to make him go faster.
"He's trying to overtake the soldiers!" gasped Rodney.
"He certainly is," replied Mrs. Turnbull calmly. "He will succeed, too,
and when he brings them back with the hounds——"
"The Yankees will burn him out before he is a week older," said Rodney,
through his clenched teeth.
"They will do nothing of the sort unless you bear witness against him,
and I know you will not do that," answered Mrs. Turnbull. "But waste no
time in words. You know what to do."
"I will say something in your favor and Mr. Turnbull's as soon as I can
gain the ear of the provost marshal," said Rodney. "Good-by, and thank
you for the interest you take in my Yankee friends."
Rodney made a sign to Dick as he sprang down the steps and ran around
the corner of the house, and told him his story as they sped across
the field side by side. There was one thing in their favor, he said.
Biglin's mule was one of those critters that gallop up and down in one
place instead of going ahead, and if the Confederates were moving with
any speed at all, he might not be able to overtake them until they had
gone a mile or two toward Mooreville. But he would certainly come up
with them sooner or later and bring them back; and then——
"And then they'll put the hounds on the Yanks' trail _and ours_,"
exclaimed Dick, finishing his sentence for him. "Rodney, you have got
yourself into the worst kind of a scrape by helping those prisoners."
"And how about yourself?"
"I'm going to skip out and go over the river, you know; but you've got
to stay here and face the music. The lieutenant may not be able to set
Tom Randolph's cowardly Home Guards on to you—indeed, I don't believe
he will try; but he'll report the matter at Camp Pinckney, and that
will be bad for you."
The boys ran across the field at the top of their speed, and scaled
the fence without hearing any sounds in the direction of the house to
indicate that Mr. Biglin had returned with the soldiers. Ten minutes
later they were challenged in a low, peremptory tone that Dick said
meant business.
"_Who_ comes there?" said the corporal's voice. "Speak quick."
"It's all right, Yank. I don't wonder you look anxious," replied
Rodney, as he and Dick made their way through the bushes and found the
fugitives standing erect with their guns in their hands. "Come on, now.
There's not a second to lose."
"Do you know about that nigger?" inquired Ben. "Well, sir, he found us
all asleep and was onto us before we knew it. We could have captured
him easy enough; but we never looked for treachery among the darkeys,
and besides we didn't know but you Johnnies had sent him down with a
message or something. But the minute we spoke and he ran, we knew there
was mischief afoot. Of course we were afraid to shoot him, and so he
got safely away. Did you see him? What did he say?"
"We didn't hear what he said to his master," began Dick. "But we——"
"You go to the rear and let me talk," interrupted Rodney, who had
forgotten to tell his friend that Mr. Biglin's name must not be
mentioned in the hearing of the escaped prisoners. They would remember
him, of course, and square accounts with him the first time their
regiment was ordered out on a scout. He managed to tell some sort
of a tale without speaking of Mr. Biglin, but it was not entirely
satisfactory to the corporal.
"You're shielding somebody, Johnny; but if he is a friend of yours it's
all right," said the latter.
"What odds does it make to you so long as you get safe to the river?"
answered Rodney. "I am shielding somebody, and I do it because Mrs.
Turnbull expects me to. That's the name of the woman who lives in that
house, and if it hadn't been for her there's no telling what would have
happened. Bear that name in mind—Turnbull; and when you are raiding
through here, don't steal so much as a drink of milk from that family."
The corporal and his men promised, and said the name over several times
to fix it in their memory.
"Our pursuers are all soldiers," continued Rodney, "and under almost
any other circumstances I believe they would let us off easy; but the
way they're fixed, they've got to do their duty or be reported. They
are bound to come back to the house and put out the hounds——"
"And they've done it," said Dick Graham, coming to a sudden standstill
and turning one ear toward the house. "There! Do you hear it?"
All this while the fugitives had been making the best progress they
could through the woods, but now they stopped and listened intently.
Yes, they could hear it plainly enough; not a single bugle note like
that which had attracted Dick Graham's attention, but a whole chorus of
eager yelps, proving that all the hounds had taken up the trail.
"This is going to be the tightest squeak we've had yet," observed Ben.
"How many of them are there in the party?"
"About six hounds, I should say, and twice as many men," replied
Rodney. "Enough altogether to make running easier than fighting. Dick,
take this bottle, and don't use it until I say the word."
"What's in it?" inquired the corporal.
"Turpentine; and if the dogs get a good sniff of it, it will spoil
their scenting powers for quite a while. The trouble is it evaporates
quickly, and Dick mustn't use it until the hounds are close to us."
Dick fell back to the rear and Rodney set off on a keen run, directing
his course toward a little bayou which he knew he would find a mile or
so in advance. But fast as they went, the hounds came on at a swifter
pace, their sonorous yelps grew louder every minute, and presently the
encouraging shouts of the soldiers mingled with them.
"Oh, don't I wish I had enlisted in the infantry," puffed Ben, who
followed close at Rodney's heels. "Such a tramp as we have had wouldn't
be anything to a foot soldier, but it's death on a cavalryman."
"The hounds are now following Dick's trail and mine across the field,"
said Rodney. "They'll come on faster when they pick up yours, for they
will recognize it on the instant."
And so it proved. The hounds gradually swept around from a point to the
rear and left of them to another that was directly behind; and then
their loud baying increased wonderfully in volume. They had at last
found the trail that had been lost to them for so many hours, and were
holding a jubilee over it. After that the horsemen were distanced, but
the active hounds came on with undiminished speed, and in less than a
quarter of an hour could be heard making their way through the bushes
close behind. The prisoners began to wonder if it wasn't about time for
Dick Graham to use the contents of his bottle, when their guide parted
the thicket in front of him, and halted for an instant on the bank of
the bayou for which he had been heading.
"Put half of it right here and the rest on the opposite bank. Forward,
the rest of us," said he; and with the words he dashed through the
narrow stream and into the bushes on the other side.
[Illustration: DICK BAFFLES THE BLOODHOUNDS.]
Dick Graham showed no little nerve in carrying out his instructions.
When his companions disappeared he pulled the bottle of turpentine from
his pocket, but knowing the volatile nature of the fluid he seemed to
be in no haste to use it, until the leading hound was so close upon
him that he could hear his labored breathing. Then he dug the heels
of his shoes into the soft earth and filled the depressions with
turpentine. Ten seconds later he stood on the other side of the bayou,
filling other footprints with what was left in the bottle; and just as
the foremost of his fourfooted pursuers appeared in sight, he flung
himself into the bushes. But he was not prepared for what followed. As
fast as the hounds arrived upon the bank they smelt at the turpentine
and backed away with a sneeze; and when they were all in plain view,
running about with their heads in the air or going through such
contortions as dogs will when they unexpectedly encounter something
disagreeable, a deafening roar rang through the woods, and every one of
the hounds dropped in his tracks dead or wounded. The Union soldiers
were not going to be tracked like beasts or criminals any longer.