A FRIEND IN NEED.
“Well, sir, you have got him as easy as falling off a log, haven’t you?”
said Cale, gleefully, as he sat down on the ground beside Leon and
passed his hands over him from head to foot. “It’s Leon, as sure as I am
alive, and you’ve got him tied up hard and fast,” he added, as he felt
of the prisoner’s face.
“Hold on till I take the gag out of his mouth,” said Dan. “He talks as
sassy as you please.”
“He does? Then I would punch him in the mouth for it,” said Cale, who
showed that he could be brave enough when he had the power.
“No, that won’t do,” said Dan, who forthwith proceeded to take the shirt
out of Leon’s mouth. “You are an officer—”
“Oh, get out!” sneered Cale. “I’ll bet you when our officers get him
into their hands they’ll treat him worse than we will.”
“They didn’t treat them so at Mobile when we saw those prisoners brought
in there,” retorted Dan. “We are officers, and I’ll bet you that I will
get some men to command when I give this fellow up.”
Leon took a few moments in which to get over the effect of the shirt
being in his mouth, after which he was ready to talk to Cale; for, as we
said, he was impatient to hear his version of the story of his escape.
“How did you get away, Cale?” said he.
“You thought they had me hard and fast, didn’t you?” said Cale, shaking
his fist at Leon. “Well, they didn’t. They had me in the third story of
the hotel, and once, when the sentinel wasn’t looking, I tore up the
quilts they had given me to sleep on and dug out.”
“Didn’t they have any sentry under the window?” said Leon, astonished at
such a want of foresight on the part of the Union men.
“No, they didn’t; and I took note of that the first thing when I went
in. I stayed up close to the building while the sentry was looking out,
and when he fired his gun to let them know that I had gone I dug out
across the cotton-field until I struck the woods. I wondered what I
should do without Dan, and I run onto him the first thing. Now, what are
you going to do with this fellow?”
“As soon as it comes daylight we’ll take him down to Mobile.”
“Ah! that’s the place for you,” said Cale, giving Leon a pinch. “You
won’t be riding around on that horse of yours and making us all wish we
had one, too. You’ve got the revolver, Dan, and now I’ll have the horse.
I wish father could get away from the house. Mebbe he would make you
stretch hemp right where you are.”
“Well, Cale, as I didn’t have any sleep last night I’ll lie down,” said
Dan. “Do you reckon you can watch him while I doze a little?”
“You’re right, I can,” said Cale, with savage emphasis. “Give me your
revolver. Now, let us see him make a move to get away. I’ll stretch him
out so stiff that he won’t be of any use down there at Mobile.”
“That fellow has got a mighty nice shirt on that I’d like to have,” said
Dan, as he drew his coat about him, but couldn’t confine it, for it had
no buttons. “As soon as it comes daylight I’ll make him shed that linen.
I ain’t a-going among our officers with no shirt on.”
“Why don’t you make him take it off now?” said Cale. “I’ll watch him so
that he can’t run away.”
“No, I guess I’d better be on the safe side. Let it go until to-morrow.”
Leon was glad that he had such a reputation. He was able to sleep warm
for one night at least. His clothing was comfortable, and his coat being
buttoned up to the chin, and being protected from the keen wind by the
thicket in which he was placed, he slept as warm as he would if he had
been at home. The only thing was, his hands hurt him. He knew it would
be of no use to appeal to Dan, so he gritted his teeth and said nothing.
When Leon awoke it was broad daylight. Both his captors were asleep. The
revolver that Cale threatened him with was lying by his side, and all he
needed was his hands at liberty to turn the tables on them in good
shape.
“By gracious!” muttered Leon; and once more he began trying the effect
of Dan’s knots. But they were there to stay. He could not move his hands
at all. “Halloo! here,” he added aloud. “Do you want to go to sleep and
let me run off? I am cold, and it is time I was moving.”
“Well, now, I’ll be shot!” said Dan, opening his eyes and rubbing them,
while Cale made a clutch for the revolver. “It was good of you not to go
away.”
“You can thank yourself for it,” said Leon. “If I could have got away
I’d had my revolver in my hands, and then you would have gone to
Ellisville.”
“Yes; and what would we be doing all that time?” said Cale.
“You shut up!” answered Dan. “You said you could watch him, and so you
did. You went fast asleep watching him.”
“I only just closed my eyes, that’s all,” protested Cale. “If he’d
a-made any move—”
“Oh, shut up, and let’s be moving,” interrupted Dan. “The sooner we get
him where our officers are, the sooner we’ll be rid of him and get
something to eat.”
Leon found that he was somewhat stiff when he came to get upon his feet,
but before they had gone half a mile he stepped off with his accustomed
free stride. Dan led the way with the revolver in his hand, and he was
considerate enough to keep the bushes from striking his prisoner in the
face. Leon knew how far it was to the river, but the distance seemed to
lengthen out wonderfully since he last passed that way. He kept a bright
look-out in the hope that he would meet some of the Union men, but in
this he was disappointed.
“Now, right up that way, not more than a mile, is a company of your
fellows stationed there to watch the bridge,” said Dan, stopping at
length. “How much would you give to holler and bring them down here?”
“Don’t talk to him that way,” exclaimed Cale, disturbed by the thought.
“The first thing you know he will holler.”
“Then this revolver will settle his hash,” said Dan, savagely. “Let him
holler, if he wants to.”
A little further on came the river, whereupon Dan backed off for a few
feet and told Cale to undo the prisoner’s hands. Cale was prompt to
obey, and the first thing that Leon did when he felt his arms free was
to stretch them above his head, as if he enjoyed having them at liberty
once more. He did not make a motion to escape, for there was the
revolver looking him in the face.
“Now take off your clothes, you two, and be ready to swim the river,”
said Dan.
“Am I going over there with him?” asked Cale, and he was thoroughly
frightened at the prospect.
“You go first, and when you get over there you can pick up a club. I’ll
keep his clothes behind with me, and the revolver, too, and if he wants
to run off naked let him go. I bet you he’ll be glad to have his clothes
again.”
The two boys lost no time in taking off their clothes, and there was one
thing that Leon didn’t like pretty well. He would lose his shirt by the
operation; but there was no help for it that he could see. In due time
the boys were all over, and Leon saw his shirt go upon the back of Dan
Newman.
“There, now, I feel like myself again,” exclaimed Dan. “I can go among
our officers now and have a shirt on. Button your coat up tight, Leon,
and no wind can get in. Now you must have your hands tied again.”
This much being accomplished, the prisoner and his captors went ahead at
a more rapid pace, the woods being more open, and they held their course
parallel with the main road. Their object was to get below the bend,
where they would be out of sight of the sentries. At the end of half an
hour they emerged from the woods, and striking the road went on their
way with increased speed.
“Don’t you know some place along here where you can go and get something
to eat?” asked Leon. “I could travel twice as fast if I had something on
my stomach.”
“I was just thinking of that thing myself,” answered Dan. “I am going to
stop at the first house I meet. And remember, Leon, no trying to get
away,” he added, showing the revolver he still carried in his hand.
Leon didn’t make any reply. He knew now that he was beyond all reach of
help, and after he got something to eat—that was the first thing on the
programme—he must make up his mind to face “our officers,” who wouldn’t
be apt to treat him any too well. But first one house was passed and
then another, and as neither Dan nor Cale had the courage to go in and
beg something to eat, Leon finally gave it up as a bad job, and thought
he would have to go on to Mobile before he could get a mouthful to stay
his appetite. At last they came along to a place that Leon remembered.
The first time he saw it there was a pleasant farm-house, and corn-cribs
and negro quarters in abundance; but now everything had been given up to
the flames, and some of the ruins were still smoking.
“Well, I declare, somebody has been burned out, here!” said Dan. “Is
this the place where you came last night, Leon?”
“I was around here somewhere,” replied Leon.
“Then here’s where that rebel fellow lives,” continued Dan. “It serves
him just right. Before I take an oath to support a government and then
go back on it I would deserve to be burned out myself.”
Leon did not make any reply to this, for he thought that Dan might be
burned out and still not lose a great deal by it; but he did not want to
say so for fear of making him angry. His captors had treated him all
right so far, but he knew what the consequences would be if he got them
down on him. While he was thinking about it, and wondering how Tom Howe
and young Dawson would look upon his absence—they certainly would know
he had been captured—they came suddenly around another bend in the road,
and saw before them a long line of horsemen who were travelling as
though they had some place to reach before night. He took a second
glance at them, and saw that they were all dressed in Confederate
uniform.
“There’s some of our men now!” exclaimed Dan, so overjoyed that he took
off his hat and waved it to them. “But, Cale, that ain’t our captain in
front, is it? He was a big man, and this is a little one. There must be
a whole regiment of them, and if that is the case they are going up to
whip the Union men.”
Leon’s heart fairly came up into his mouth. He would know soon what the
rebels were going to do with him. The Confederates discovered them as
soon as they came around the bend, and they kept a close watch of them
until they came up. The man in front certainly was not a captain. He had
a mark on his collar that no one had ever seen before.
“Well, boys, where are you going?” inquired the man; and they found out
before the interview was over that his men called him colonel. Of
course, Dan looked at him with a great deal of respect after he found
out what his rank was.
“Yes, we’ve got a Yankee prisoner here,” said Dan, who was expected to
do all the talking. “He is the son of the Secretary of War up in Jones
county.”
“He is, hey?” exclaimed the colonel, beginning to show some interest in
the matter. “Well, we’ll send him right down to Mobile the first thing
we do. Are you from Jones county?”
Dan replied that he was.
“Then you must know all about the men up there,” said the colonel. “How
many have they got, anyway?”
“A thousand fighting men,” replied Dan. “And I tell you, you will want
more men than you have got here to whip them.”
“I don’t know about that. We have got a thousand men here in this
regiment, and they are all disciplined, and when they draw up against
your crowd of bushwhackers you will see some scattering. Now, we want to
get across that bridge; how far is it from here?”
“You will find it right straight up this road about twenty miles. You
want to be careful, because they have got ten men hidden up there, and
they are all good shots.”
“We will take care of them, don’t you fear. Now, after we get across the
bridge we must deploy in line of battle; how far will we have to go
before we can strike their main line?”
“It is ten miles from the bridge to Ellisville, and when you get there
you will find all the men you want.”
“Well, now, see here: suppose you go with me? You know all the crooks
and turns of the road that leads—”
“But, Captain,” began Dan.
“This gentleman is a colonel,” interrupted the man who rode by his
commanding officer’s side.
“A colonel!” exclaimed Dan, somewhat surprised to find that he had found
the man who held the position his father was working for. “Colonel, I am
glad to meet you,” he added, advancing and thrusting out a dirty,
begrimed hand to the man, who merely reached down and touched the tips
of it with his fingers. “My father calculates to hold the position of
colonel when he has delivered up all the head men of the county into
your hands. But, Colonel, I want to see this man located in Mobile. I
had a heap of trouble to gobble him, and I don’t want to lose him.”
But that wasn’t the principal reason why Dan did not want to go back.
Some of the men at the bridge would be certain to recognize him, and if
he escaped the bullets which they would send after him he would not dare
go home.
“We’ll take care of him,” said the colonel. “The son of the Secretary of
War is too valuable to lose.”
“What do you reckon you will do with him, Colonel?”
“Hang him, probably.”
Leon heard the words, and looked around at Dan and Cale. Dan smiled upon
him as if he had just heard a glorious piece of news, but Cale was
grinning with delight. He said to himself: “If Leon is going to be hung
I’ll have his horse.”
“Adjutant, pick out a good, trusty man to march this fellow to Mobile,”
said the colonel. “A faithful fellow, mind you.”
“Captain Cullom, have you such a man in your company?” said the
adjutant, turning to the officer who commanded the advance of the line.
“Yes, sir. Ballard, step out here!”
The man referred to, who was one of the leading fours of his company,
urged his horse to the front and brought his hand to his hat with a
military salute. Then he slung his carbine upon his shoulder and drew
his revolver from his belt. Leon looked at him, and he told himself that
if he had been a rebel he would have trusted that man with his life. He
was young, not more than twenty-four, but he was from Texas, and had
been a cowboy all his life; consequently he was a little better clad
than the majority of his comrades.
“Ballard, you take this man before General Lowery and tell him that I
sent him,” said the colonel. “Tell him that he is the son of a high-up
man of Jones county, and let him do what he pleases with him.”
“Very good, sir,” answered Ballard.
“I wouldn’t untie his hands,” continued the colonel, “but you have got
your revolver in your hands and can easily stop him in case he runs for
the woods.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Ballard. “Forward, march! Go off at one side
of the road so as to be out of the way of the column.”
“Now, two of the men must make room for these boys,” said the colonel.
“Forward!”
Dan and Cale were quickly provided with places to ride behind two of the
cavalrymen, the adjutant shouted “Forward!” with all the strength of his
lungs, and Leon stood at one side of the road and watched the men as
they marched by. He had heard a good deal about Texas, and he finally
came to the conclusion that all the soldiers were from that region. They
were all long-haired, and many of them were unacquainted with combs, but
there were some among them who were dressed like his cowboy, with
handkerchiefs around their necks, broad tarpaulins on their heads and
fine boots on their feet. A good many of them had a word to say to
Ballard and his prisoner, and they were not of the kind that was
calculated to encourage Leon. When Leon wasn’t looking Ballard raised
his pistol and took a deliberate aim at his head—a proceeding that was
welcomed by shouts from all the men who saw it.
“That’s the way; shoot him down!” shouted one of the soldiers. “There
will be one less Yank for us left to fight, anyway.”
“Now, sonny, I guess all the men have passed,” said Ballard. “Take the
middle of the road and travel ahead as if you were going for the doctor.
Mobile is a long ways from here.”
Leon accordingly took to the road and plodded along at his best pace;
but he was wearied, and his hands hurt him so that he was on the point
of urging his captor to untie them for a little while, so that he could
stretch his arms and get the kinks out of them. He walked along until he
had got around the first bend, out of sight of the cavalrymen, and then
Ballard, after looking all around and up and down the road, to make sure
that there was nobody in sight, leaned forward and whispered to him:
“Say, sonny, go into the woods.”
Leon turned around and faced him. He had heard that was one way the
Confederates had of getting rid of their prisoners, namely, to take them
into the woods and “lose” them. They would shoot them down and leave
them there. Leon couldn’t help himself if Ballard had decided to lose
him, for his hands were tied.
“What will I go in there for?” he asked, and one wouldn’t suppose that
his life was in danger, to hear him talk.
“Go into the woods quick!” said Ballard. “I’m Union.”
The revulsion of feeling was so great that Leon staggered and would have
fallen to the ground if Ballard had not ridden up and caught him by the
collar.
“Go in there quick before some one sees you!” said Ballard, looking up
and down the road as he spoke. “I wouldn’t hurt the hair of your head.
I’ve wanted to get with those Jones county people ever since I have been
here, and now I have got a chance at last. Go into the woods quick as
you can walk. I’ll untie your hands in there.”
Leon waited to hear no more, but dived straight into the bushes, and he
never stopped until he had gone half a mile from the road. But fast as
he went, Ballard was close behind him. When he stopped his captor
dismounted and pulled a big bowie-knife from his boot. One blow was
enough, and Leon’s arms were free.
“Ballard, I never shall forget you!” said Leon, and his voice was
somewhat husky as he spoke. “I have been wondering how I should get
away, but I never thought that you would help me. You are a friend
indeed. But first I want to know if you have anything to eat in your
haversack? I haven’t had a bite since yesterday.”
Ballard at once unslung his haversack, and while Leon was regaling
himself on the corn-bread and bacon, which tasted wonderfully good to
him, he told Leon how he happened to go into the service, while he knew
that the South was going to be utterly impoverished. He owned a fine
cattle-ranch in Texas, and when the Southern men around him began to
talk of going into her service he found that he had to go, too, or run
the risk of stretching hemp.
“I didn’t want to go for a long time,” said Ballard, “and when I found
that my neighbors were all giving in their names, and began to look
cross-eyed at me and make remarks that people who were not for us were
against us, I saw it was high time I was doing something; so I got an
Englishman to take care of my place, and here I am. I tell you, there is
a lot of men in the rebel army that think just the same as I do.”
“Let them come over into our county and we’ll treat them right,” said
Leon. “Father says we will have at least ten thousand men by-and-by, and
it is going to take more than double that number of men to whip us. Now,
Ballard, I am much obliged to you for this breakfast, and I am now able
to go on. Are you going to take your horse with you?”
“Oh, I couldn’t think of going anywhere without that horse,” said
Ballard, hastily. “I’ll warrant that if the rebels went by within ten
feet of us he wouldn’t say a word.”
Leon at once stepped out at his old pace, and Ballard kept close behind
him. The woods were so thick that they couldn’t stop to do much talking,
and by the time it began to grow dark they were on the banks of the
creek.
“Now, we are half way home,” said Leon. “I would like to know just how
that cavalry came out in attacking our men. I’ve listened every once in
a while, but I didn’t hear any sound of rifles or carbines.”
“Probably they are too far away for us to hear them,” said Ballard. “If
your men will fight—”
“Oh, they will fight, and there are some of them with us who have
repeatedly declared that they won’t take any prisoners. If they drive
our men back to the swamp they are whipped, sure. By gracious! what’s
that? It sounds like a couple of horses coming through the woods.”
Ballard took his horse by the bridle to hold his head down in case he
wanted to call to them and listened intently. Soon the measured tread of
the horses could be heard coming through the woods, and in a few minutes
a couple of rebels appeared on the opposite bank of the creek and but a
short distance above them. One of the Confederates had no hat on, his
left arm was hanging loose by his side and his companion was holding him
on his horse. They paused for a few moments, as if they didn’t know what
to do with the creek in front of them, and then the uninjured one urged
the horses in, and in a few strokes of the hoofs they were safe across.
“I’ll tell you what’s the matter with our side,” said Ballard, as soon
as the two rebels had disappeared in the bushes. “We have been whipped!”
“Do you mean to say that our fellows have whipped the cavalry?” inquired
Leon, and he was surprised and delighted to hear it.
“That is just what I mean. If the cavalry had been successful they would
have kept to the road and taken some prisoners with them; but their
being scattered in this way makes me think that they have been worsted.
You saw that man who was being held on his horse? Well, he was wounded.”
“We have got to swim the creek before we can get over,” said Leon. “I am
impatient to see how my father came out. Take off your clothes and hold
them above your head. I’ll carry your carbine for you.”
Leon worked in earnest now, for his father had been in danger and he was
not there to share it. In hardly less time than it takes to tell it he
was on the other side of the bayou and pulling on his clothes. Ballard
was not very far behind him, and seeing how impatient Leon was he donned
his uniform with all possible haste, after which they struck out for
Ellisville.