_A Perilous Ride.--A Suspicious Peddler.--Uncle Gallus Again.--Scobell
Investigating.--Doubts and Suspicions._
It was on a beautiful morning in the early part of the month of April,
1862, when a lady, mounted upon a handsome and spirited black horse, and
accompanied by a young and intelligent-looking negro, also excellently
mounted, rode out of the city of Richmond, apparently for the purpose of
enjoying a morning ride. Provided with the necessary passports, they
experienced no difficulty in passing the guards, and after a short ride
found themselves in the open country beyond the city.
The lady was young, handsome and apparently about twenty-five years of
age. Her complexion was fresh and rosy as the morning, her hair fell in
flowing tresses of gold, while her eyes, which were of a clear and deep
blue, were quick and searching in their glances. She appeared careless
and entirely at ease, but a close observer would have noticed a
compression of the small lips, and a fixedness in the sparkling eyes
that told of a purpose to be accomplished, and that her present journey
was not wholly one of pleasure.
After leaving the city the colored attendant spurred to her side, and
then, putting spurs to their horses, they broke into a swift canter.
Their road lay along the river bank, which here led in a south-easterly
direction. Turning to the negro at her side, the lady remarked:
"Now, John, we have a ride of ten miles before us, and we must be at
Glendale as early as possible."
"All right, missus," rejoined her sable companion, "dese hosses will
take us through in good shape, I know."
They followed the course of the stream, whose waters glistened in the
rays of the morning's sun like polished silver. On either side the road
was fringed with a growth of cottonwood trees, that cast a grateful
shade along their path, while the cool breezes of the rippling river
rendered their ride a most delightful one indeed. But as they sped along
the most casual observer would have noticed from the expression of their
faces that their ride was being undertaken for other purposes than
pleasure.
The riders pressed on, scarcely slackening their speed until in the near
distance could be seen the tall spire of the single church in the
pleasant little village of Glendale. They now drew rein and brought
their smoking steeds to a slow walk, and riding leisurely onward, they
stopped before a neat little inn located on the outskirts of the town.
An old, white-headed negro took their horses and led them away, while
the landlady, a neat and tidy-looking matron, wearing widow's weeds, met
the lady at the door, and cordially welcomed her into the house.
"Here, Jennie," she called to her daughter, a trim little girl of twelve
years, "show this lady to her room."
Following the little girl, the lady was conducted into a cool and
pleasant little parlor, with windows opening upon the garden, and
through which came the fragrant breath of roses in full bloom.
Scobell accompanied the old man with the horses into the stable-yard,
where he assisted in caring for the heated animals.
"I dun spose you's on de way to Yu'ktown?" queried the old darky, who
was rubbing vigorously away upon the limbs of the glossy black horse.
After waiting a short time, and hearing no response, he added:
"What'd you say? dis yer hoss is fidgettin' aroun' so I didn't har you."
"I didn't say anything," responded his companion good-naturedly, but in
a tone that plainly indicated his intention not to submit himself to the
pumping process at the hands of his garrulous friend.
"I tought you hearn what I dun axed you," replied the old man, a little
taken aback by the cool demeanor of his new acquaintance.
Scobell, however, industriously worked away at his own horse and said
nothing.
"Well," said the old darky after another pause, and apparently communing
with himself--"it am a fac' dat now an den you meets people dat ain't
got de cibbleness to answer a question--nor de grit to tell a feller
'tain't nun o' his business; but dey jes let on like dey didn't har wat
you sed--wen all de time dey kin har jes as well as I kin."
Still there was no satisfactory response, and at last the old man
blurted out again:
"Now I dun spec' it am nun ob Uncle Gallus's bizness were dese folks am
a goin', but Jemima! I didn't tink it any harm to ax. Folks dat knows
Uncle Gallus aint afeared tu tell him nuffin, coz dey knows he dun got a
mitey close head when it am needcessary."
The old man was none other than the veritable old Uncle Gallus, whose
experience in the South seemed to be very different from the easy life
he had led as the house servant of Mrs. Morton. How he came into this
position I am unable to say, but here he was, and the same smile of
good-nature irradiated his face, as when his way of life was pleasant,
and his duties lighter. Perhaps, it would be as well to state here, that
the two persons already mentioned were Mrs. Carrie Lawton, a female
operative on my force, and John Scobell, who has figured before in these
pages. These two persons had been for a time employed in Richmond, and
were now endeavoring to effect their journey North.
After finishing the last remark, Uncle Gallus straightened himself up
and stood erect, with the air of a man who had been unjustly injured,
and who was disposed to vindicate himself now and there.
"I tell you, uncle," finally replied Scobell, "there are times when one
must be careful what you say, and who you say it to."
"Dat am a fac'!" ejaculated the old man.
"Now, if I knowed you was all right," Scobell continued, "I might talk,
but 'tain't smart to tell your business to strangers."
"Dat am a fac', young man," observed Uncle Gallus, shaking his head with
a knowing look; "but den I spose you's a friend to Uncle Abe, ain't you
now?" he queried.
"And if I am," said Scobell, "what do you want?"
"Light and Liberty," replied the old man impressively, "and fo' de L'ud
I b'lieve de day am nigh when it am a comin'."
At these words, Scobell stepped forward and said in a low voice:
"Do you belong to the League?"
"I does," answered Uncle Gallus; "I dun jined it in dis berry place."
"How often do you meet?" inquired Scobell.
"We meets ebery two weeks, down at Uncle Dicky Bassett's--he libs on de
bluff ob de ribber 'bout a mile furder down de road to'rds Wilson's
Landin'."
"How far is it to Wilson's landing?" asked Scobell, who, finding that
Uncle Gallus was a member of the League, was now no longer loth to talk
with him.
"A little grain de rise ob twenty mile," replied the old man.
"About sundown, then," said Scobell, "these horses must be saddled and
ready for the missus and me, for we must be at the landing before
midnight."
"All right," rejoined Uncle Gallus, "dey'll be ready when yu want 'em."
"See heah now, is yure name John?" suddenly asked the old man, as if an
idea had just occurred to him.
"Yes, that's what they call me."
"An' you cum frum Richmun' dis mo'nin?"
Scobell nodded.
"An' dat young leddy am gwine to meet somebody, mebbe her husband, at de
landin'?"
"Yes," said Scobell; "but how do you know these things? Has anybody been
here to see you?"
"Yah! Yah!" chuckled the old man. "I dun tole you dat folks as knowed
Uncle Gallus dun often come ter see him. I dun knowed you all de time,
when you fust come--in fac', I was 'spectin' you and de missus all de
mawnin'."
"Was the landlady looking for us too?" inquired Scobell.
"She knowed you was a comin'," replied Uncle Gallus; "dah was a gem'man
heah las' night, as talked about you to her, an' lef' a note fur de
lady."
"Is the landlady all right?" asked Scobell.
"True to de core," affirmed Uncle Gallus emphatically; "more'n one poor
feller as 'scaped from Richmun' hes foun' a good bed an' supper at de
'Glen House.'"
"Well," said my operative, "you can finish your work here; I have an
errand or two for the missus, and I must go and attend to them before
dinner."
So saying, he started for the house, leaving Uncle Gallus to water and
feed the horses, which had now sufficiently cooled, and were enjoying
their needed rest.
Scobell's errand was simply to take a stroll about the village in order
to ascertain whether there was any indication of their having been
followed by anyone from Richmond. He strolled about the village, noting
carefully every one whom he met, and, feeling comparatively secure,
started to return to the hotel.
Turning the corner of a street he came suddenly face to face with a
peddler, who addressed him in a rich Irish brogue and inquired the way
to the tavern. Scobell gave him the required information and stood
watching the fellow as he ambled off in the direction indicated. There
was something in the appearance of this man that attracted the attention
and excited the suspicions of my observant operative. He resolved to
keep an eye upon his movements and endeavor to discover, if possible,
whether the man was a genuine peddler, or a spy, who had adopted that
disguise to conceal his true character.
In the few words that passed between them Scobell had noticed that while
the man's hair was a fiery red his eyebrows and lashes appeared of a
dark brown color, and his face was altogether of too florid a hue to be
natural. These observations were sufficient to put Scobell upon the
alert at once, and convinced him that the man was not what he appeared
to be.
Following slowly he watched him until he reached the hotel and entered
the bar-room, where, laying aside his pack, he ordered his dinner.
Scobell entered the room immediately behind him, and passing through it,
he made his way to the kitchen, where the landlady was superintending
the preparations for a most savory dinner. Calling her aside, he
informed her of the peddler's arrival and of his suspicions regarding
him, cautioning her to convey the news to his missus before they met at
the table.
In a few minutes dinner was announced, and the boarders, to the number
of fifteen, including Mrs. Lawton and the peddler, with the landlady at
the head, gathered around the long table in the low, old-fashioned
dining-room. The lively clatter of the knives and forks soon attested
the vigor with which they attacked the viands set before them. The
peddler ate his meal in silence, undisturbed by the general
conversation going on around him, and Mrs. Lawton noticed that he was
keenly watching her whenever an opportunity occurred to do so, as he
thought, unobserved. She, however, affected entire unconsciousness of
the scrutiny she was subjected to, and kept up an animated conversation
with the landlady upon various trivial topics until the meal was
finished.
Scobell, who temporarily acted as an attendant at the table, lost no
opportunity to carefully watch the movements of the peddler, and his
searching glances, directed towards Mrs. Lawton, fully convinced him
that his previous suspicions were well founded.
Mrs. Lawton returned to her room, not a little disturbed at the
peddler's strange behavior, and having no doubt that the stranger was a
spy, she determined to discover if she was the object of his visit, or
whether his appearance bore any relation to her presence at the hotel.
She accordingly sent for Scobell, and together they decided that he
should carefully watch the movements of the peddler, and if nothing of a
suspicious nature transpired, they would renew their journey after
nightfall.
Scobell immediately left the room, and as he entered the bar-room he
noticed that the peddler was settling his score, preparatory to taking
his departure. He remarked to the landlady, with the same rich brogue
which Scobell had observed, that business was dull, and that he would
have to walk to Richmond.
"All right, my fine fellow," muttered my operative, "we'll see whether
you are going to Richmond or not."
The peddler lighted a short-stemmed clay pipe, and swinging his pack
over his shoulder, set off at a rapid pace on the road to Richmond.
Scobell hastened to the stable and, procuring a pole and line that he
had observed there in the morning, started off in the direction which
the peddler had taken, but taking a shorter cut to the river, which
would enable him to reach the road about a mile below the village and in
advance of the peddler. Sauntering along until he had gained the shelter
of a belt of timber to his left, he then increased his pace until he was
almost abreast of the peddler, though entirely concealed from view. He
was now satisfied that with a little effort he could keep his man in
sight, and he concluded not to pass him, as he had at first intended,
but to follow him until he saw him on his way to the rebel capital.
When they were about three miles from the village, the peddler suddenly
left the road and turned into the woods, leading directly to the banks
of the river, which at this point were remarkably high and steep. This
movement was entirely unexpected by my operative, and his only recourse
was to drop hastily behind a tree to prevent being seen. He was not
discovered, however, although the peddler, after entering the timber,
gazed carefully around him, as if to see whether he was being followed.
Apparently satisfied with his survey he resumed his walk, in happy
ignorance of the fact that a pair of gleaming eyes were not far distant,
noting his every movement.
Waiting until he had gone a sufficient distance to render it safe,
Scobell rose slowly from the ground and stealthily followed his
footsteps until the peddler paused at the edge of the bluff, which ran
down into the river. Here he tightened the strap of his pack, and after
another hasty glance behind him, he began the descent of the bluff, with
the aid of the stout stick which he carried with him. The bank was
almost perpendicular, and was covered with a heavy undergrowth of young
timber and brush, which made the journey rather a hazardous undertaking.
"Wonder if he's going to swim to Richmond with that pack on his
shoulders," said Scobell to himself, as he wonderingly watched these
strange movements of the peddler.
Fully determined to see the end of this mysterious maneuver, but
recognizing the necessity of exercising the utmost caution in his
advance, Scobell slowly and noiselessly made his way to the spot where
the peddler had vanished as completely from his view as if he had sunk
into the bowels of the earth. Advancing to within a few feet of the
edge of the bluff, he threw himself upon his hands and knees, and drew
himself forward until he could overlook the steep descent. He could see
nothing of the peddler, however, for the dense growth of bushes
completely obstructed his view, but he could readily discern the marks
of footprints in the soft soil, which had been made by him in his
descent to the bottom.
Here was a dilemma. He had lost his man, and he dared not follow
directly after him, as the peddler might be lying in ambush, and an
encounter might be fatal. After a few moments' consideration, he
concluded to walk along the bluff a short distance and endeavor to find
another path by which he might descend, and thus avoid the peddler, if
he was waiting to surprise him. About a hundred yards further on he came
upon a well-beaten path, and here he began his descent. Everything was
as quiet as the grave around him, and he reached the base of the cliff
in safety, but without seeing anything of the man he was after. Passing
up along the lane by the river a short distance, he discovered a narrow
path leading in the direction which the peddler had taken, and showing
the mark of recent footprints. Passing cautiously along this path a
short distance, he saw that the high bluffs were gradually giving to
more level banks, and that a little further on the stream made a sharp
detour to the right, and swept out into the open and level country.
In the bend of the river, and on the same side, he noticed a small
cabin, half hidden by a clump of trees. Surmising that the peddler had
entered this cabin, he resolved to hide himself and watch for a few
minutes, hoping that the man would soon make his appearance. He had
scarcely taken a position where he could unobservedly note all that was
going on, when a man, whom he at once recognized as the peddler, made
his appearance at the door, and stood anxiously gazing around, as though
expecting some one. He still maintained his disguise, and appeared to be
alone. Returning into the cabin, and after a few minutes, to the
surprise of Scobell, another individual made his appearance. This
new-comer, while about the same size as the peddler, was a very
different-looking person indeed, for instead of the red hair and florid
complexion, he noticed that this man had a closely-cropped head of black
hair, while his complexion was dark and swarthy.
"So there's a pair of you!" thought Scobell.
The fellow, after apparently satisfying himself that the coast was
clear, proceeded to a small stable that stood in the rear of the cabin,
and almost on the edge of the river bank. Scobell thought he heard the
faint whinny of a horse, and shortly afterwards the man, mounted on a
dark iron-gray horse, appeared, and made his way over the hill and out
into the direction of the river road.
It instantly flashed across Scobell's mind that this man was no other
than his peddler, and without hesitation he approached the cabin and
knocked loudly at the door. There was no response, and after a moment's
hesitation he lifted the latch and entered. As he had conjectured, the
cabin was empty.
[Illustration: "GOOD-MORNING."]