A WARNING.
"A gentleman to see me?" repeated Rodney, his surprise and indignation
giving place to a feeling of uneasiness. "Who is he? What's his name?"
"I dunno, sah," replied the servant. "I never seen him round here
afore."
Wondering who the visitor could be and how he knew where to find him,
seeing that he and his father had not been in that house more than half
an hour, the Harrington boy arose and followed the servant into the back
parlor. Whom he expected to meet when he got there it is hard to tell,
but it is certain that he felt greatly relieved when he found that the
visitor was a Mooreville boy--a "student" in the telegraph office. His
uneasy feelings vanished at once only to return with redoubled force
when Griffin--that was the visitor's name--said in a loud, earnest
whisper:
"Shut the door tight and come up close so that you can hear every word I
say. I am liable to get myself into the worst kind of a scrape by trying
to befriend you."
"The door is all right, and besides there are no eavesdroppers in this
house," answered Rodney. "What in the world is the matter, and why are
you likely to get yourself into trouble by coming here?"
"Have you heard anything since you have been in town?" asked Griffin, in
reply. "I don't suppose any one will bother you, seeing that you are
alone, but if your whole company had tried to go, you might have been
stopped. If you hadn't, it wouldn't have been Randolph's fault."
"There now," thought Rodney. "I said there was some one in Mooreville
who wanted to get us into trouble, and Tom Randolph was the very fellow
who came into my mind."
But he said nothing aloud. How did he know that young Randolph was the
only enemy he had in Mooreville? He looked hard at Griffin and dropped
into the nearest chair.
"Randolph is down on everybody who voted against him for second
lieutenant," continued Griffin, "and he declared when he came home after
the election that he would break up that company of Rangers if he could
find any way to do it."
"He laid out a pretty big job for himself," said Rodney, when his
visitor paused. "How did he think he would go to work to accomplish
it?"
"Any way and every way. He didn't care so long as he broke it up. You
can't imagine how tickled he was when he heard that you had mutinied and
refused to be sworn in."
"Did Randolph start that ridiculous story about the mutiny?" inquired
Rodney.
"I don't know whether he set it going or not, but he helped it along all
he could and had a good deal to say about it," answered Griffin.
"Yesterday afternoon I was in the office when he came in and wrote a
dispatch to the Governor; and as I have got so that I can read by sound,
I had no trouble in spelling it out when Drummond the operator sent it
off. I always do that for practice. Between you and me that Drummond is a
fellow who ought to be booted out of that position. He's just too mean
to be of any use."
"What was in the dispatch?" asked Rodney.
"It contained the information that the Rangers had mutinied and were
about to leave the State in a body."
"That was a lie and Randolph knew it," said Rodney, hotly. "But even if
we had decided to leave the State in a body, is there any law to prevent
it? Such a thing was proposed, but it was voted down by a big majority,
and that is why I am obliged to go alone."
"And that brings me to what I want to tell you," said the operator. "I
didn't pay very much attention to that dispatch, although Drummond said
that if you tried to go up the river you ought to be chucked into the
calaboose, the last one of you; but when Randolph came in again that
evening and sent off another dispatch that was all about _you_, I began
to open my ears and think it was time I was giving you a hint."
"What could he have to say about me? It wasn't I who defeated him for
second lieutenant."
"No, but you voted against him, and the company gave you the position
you wanted without making any fuss about it, and presented you with a
splendid sword, and all those things made Randolph pretty middling mad,
I can tell you."
"Did he tell the Governor in his second dispatch that I was getting
ready to leave the State, and that he had better be on the lookout to
stop me?"
"Eh? No. He didn't send the second dispatch to the Governor. He sent it
to his father's cotton-factor in St. Louis, who is a Yank so blue that
the blue will rub off."
"The--mischief--he--did!" exclaimed Rodney, who began to feel blue
himself even if he didn't look so. "And what did he have to say to that
Yankee about me?"
"He told him to watch the steamboats for a Confederate bearer of
dispatches--a young fellow, dark complexioned, slight mustache, dressed
in citizen's clothes and a roan colt for company."
"It is his intention to have me arrested the minute I get into St.
Louis, is it?" cried Rodney, getting upon his feet and moving about the
room with long, angry strides.
"It looked that way to me, and that's why I am here," replied Griffin.
"I appreciate your friendship, and assure you that I shall always bear
it in mind," said Rodney, stopping long enough to give the operator's
hand a cordial gripe and shake.
"That's all right," said the latter. "I haven't forgotten the winter
when I was down with the chills and couldn't work, and that mortgage of
ours liked to have worried my mother into a sick bed--"
"That's all right too," Rodney interposed. "I was at school and had
nothing whatever to do with it."
"No, but your father had something to do with it, and it's all in the
family. I know it is Randolph's intention to get you into trouble with
the Yankees if he can, for I heard him tell Drummond so. And he couldn't
have taken a better way or a better time to do it," continued Griffin.
"If all reports are true, things are in a bad way in St. Louis. You know
there are a good many Dutchmen there, and they are mostly strong for the
Union. During one of the riots they fired into their own ranks instead
of into the mob, and that made them so wild with rage that they are
ready to hang every Confederate they can get their hands on, without
judge or jury."
"A bearer of dispatches," repeated Rodney, once more seating himself in
his chair. "And did Drummond send off that telegram when he knew there
wasn't a word of truth in it?"
"Course. Don't I tell you that he's too mean for any use? He and
Randolph are and always have been cronies, and I heard them talking and
laughing over the dispatches as though they thought they were going to
get a big joke on you."
"What other thing has Drummond done that's mean?" inquired Rodney.
"Let's talk about something else," replied Griffin, evasively.
"Just as you please," answered the Barrington boy. "But I shouldn't
think you would take the trouble to come to Baton Rouge and run the risk
of losing your position in the telegraph office, unless you are willing
to trust me entirely. I asked for information and not out of curiosity.
If Drummond attempts any foolishness with you, my father may be able to
checkmate him."
"Well, then," said the operator, with some hesitation. "You musn't
betray me. Drummond has sent the names of all the Union men in and
around Mooreville to the Governor."
"Why, I didn't suppose there were any Union men there," exclaimed
Rodney, who was greatly surprised.
"Of course you didn't. You wouldn't expect one of them to make himself
known to as hot a Confederate as you are known to be, would you? There
are plenty of people at home who don't suspect such a thing, but I don't
mind telling you of it, for you are not mean enough to persecute a man
who differs from you in opinion."
Rodney thrust both hands deep into his pockets, slid farther down in his
chair, and fastened his eyes on the carpet without saying a word. What
would his visitor think of him if he knew that he had been mean enough
to do just that very thing that in order to punish his cousin for his
Union sentiments and drive him away from the academy, he had written a
letter to Budd Goble which came within an ace of bringing Marcy Gray a
terrible beating? The matter came vividly to Rodney's recollection now,
and he would have given everything he ever hoped to possess if he could
have blotted out that one act.
"Yes, there are Union men in Mooreville," continued Griffin, getting
upon his feet and buttoning up his coat, "and Randolph and his friend
Drummond are laying their plans to bring sorrow of some sort to them.
There was still another telegram which was sent to this place."
"Was there anything in it about me?" inquired Rodney.
"It was all about you. In it Drummond asked the operator here to keep an
eye on you if he could conveniently, and send word to Mooreville when
you went up the river and what boat you went on. Then he will send off
another dispatch to that St. Louis Yankee, who will know just when to
expect you."
"He means to be revenged on me for voting as I did, doesn't he?" mused
Rodney. "I shall not have any dispatches about me, but I don't want to
be arrested. It would delay me just that much, and might make it
impossible for me to get out of the city."
"Really I must be going," exclaimed Griffin, "or my cousin, who thinks I
came here on purpose to see him, will have his suspicions aroused. Can
you show me the way out? Remember I musn't be seen by anybody."
The Barrington boy, who was as well acquainted in that house as he was
in his father's, led the way to the front door, and after again thanking
his visitor for the trouble he had taken and the friendship he had shown
in warning him of his danger, he ran down the steps to the sidewalk and
looked in both directions. There was no one in sight; and having made
sure of it Rodney motioned to Griffin, who quickly disappeared in the
darkness. Then Rodney went slowly back into the house and entered the
room in which he had left his father. He told him and their host
everything, even at the risk of hearing Mr. Gray declare that he should
not stir one step toward St. Louis. That was just what the boy thought
his father would say, and he was ready for it, having hit upon a plan
which he was sure would throw his enemies off the scent.
Rodney's father was as angry at Randolph and Drummond as he was grateful
to young Griffin for the service he had rendered his son, but all he had
to say about it was that he would remember them all. And we may
anticipate events a little by saying that he kept his word so far as
Griffin was concerned. When the Confederate Congress passed that famous
conscription law "robbing the cradle and the grave," that is to say,
making every able-bodied man in the South between the ages of seventeen
and fifty subject to military duty, it did not neglect to provide for
the exemption of those who were able to pay for it, thus proving the
truth of the assertion that the war of the rebellion was a rich man's
war and a poor man's fight. The fact that young Griffin was the sole
support of a widowed mother made not the slightest difference to the
Confederate enrolling officers, who would have forced him into the army
if Rodney's father had not come to his relief. According to the terms of
the law there was one exempt on every plantation employing more than
fifteen slaves. Mr. Gray owned four such plantations and he gave young
Griffin charge of one of them, at the same time handing over the hundred
pounds of bacon and beef that Griffin would have been obliged to pay as
the price of his exemption. Of course this made Randolph angry, and the
burden of his complaint was:
"Griffin is Union and I know it; and old Gray has no business to shield
him from the conscription in that fashion. My friend Drummond had to run
when the Yankees came here, and now he is starving in the Confederate
army; and is this Griffin any better than Drummond? _My_ exemption is
all right. My father is free by reason of his age, and I must look out
for the plantation; but Griffin ought to be made to light. I'd give
something handsome to know what made those Grays take such a shine to
him all of a sudden."
The knowledge that he was watched, and that the telegraph was to be
brought into operation against him, did not keep Rodney Gray awake five
minutes after his head touched the pillow. He slept soundly, ate a
hearty breakfast, and in company with his father took his way to the
telegraph office and wrote a dispatch, addressing it to Dick Graham's
father at St. Louis. Mr. Graham did not live in the city. His home was
near Springfield; but Rodney knew from something Dick said in his letter
that his father was sojourning in St. Louis watching the progress of
events. His first telegram had reached Mr. Graham all right, and it was
likely this one would also. He made a great show of writing it, and even
read it to his father in a tone loud enough for the operator to hear
it.
"'Will start for St. Louis by first steamer, and shall be glad to have
you meet me at the wharf-boat,'" was what he wrote in the dispatch. "Of
course Mr. Graham can easily find out what boats are due in the city,
and will know about what time to expect me. How much?"
The operator, who seemed to take a deeper interest in this dispatch and
the sender than operators usually take in such things, named the price
and gazed curiously at Rodney as the latter brought out his purse and
looked for the money.
"That's the fellow Drummond wants us to watch," said he to his
assistant, when Rodney and his father were out of hearing. "I wonder
what's up? Do you suppose he has been stealing anything? He's got a
handful of gold--big pieces, too."
"So far so good," said Rodney, as he and his father went out upon the
street. "Now let that Yankee cotton-factor watch the St. Louis
wharf-boats if he wants to, and see how much he will make by it. I knew
I could throw them off the scent."
"You may not have done it as completely as you think," replied Mr. Gray,
"I shall not draw an easy breath until I hear that you are safe under
Mr. Graham's roof. When you get aboard the steamer be careful what
acquaintances you make. Take warning by what Griffin told you last night
and take nobody into your confidence."
That afternoon their host learned, through business channels, that the
steamer _Mollie Able_ was in New Orleans loading for St. Louis, and
might be expected to arrive at Baton Rouge bright and early on the
following morning, provided she was not impressed by the Confederate
quarter-master. She came on time, and Rodney afterward learned that he
was fortunate in securing passage on her, far she was one of the last
boats that went up the river. Navigation was closed soon after she
reached St. Louis, and all communication between the North and South was
cut off by the Confederate batteries that were erected along the
Mississippi. The telegraph lines, which up to this time had been used by
both Union men and rebels alike, were seized by the Government; and if
Rodney had been a week later, he would not have been able to get that
dispatch through to St. Louis. But that would not have interfered with
his arrangements, for he did not now expect to meet Dick's father in St.
Louis. He had used the telegram simply to deceive Tom Randolph and the
Baton Rouge operators.
Rodney Gray and his father, as well as the roan colt and a goodly supply
of hay and grain that had been provided for him, were on the levee
waiting for the _Mollie Able_ when she turned in for the landing, and
Rodney did not fail to notice that in the crowd of lookers-on there was
one young fellow who made it a point to keep pretty close to him,
although he did not appear to do so intentionally.
"It's one of the operators Randolph set to watch me," he whispered to
his father. "I hope he will follow us up to the clerk's office and stand
around within earshot while I buy my ticket."
His wish was gratified, for that was just what the young operator had
been sent there for--to find out whether or not Rodney secured passage
to St. Louis. When the latter had seen his horse and forage disposed of
on the main deck he ascended to the office, and there was the spy,
standing with his hands behind his back and his gaze directed across the
river. He stood close to the rail, but still he could hear every word
that passed between Rodney and the clerk; and when the latter turned
away with his ticket in his hand, the spy ran down the stairs and
started for his office to tell Drummond the Moorville operator that he
had seen Rodney Gray pay his passage to St. Louis.
"Good-by, my boy," said Mr. Gray, when the steamer's bell rang out the
warning that the gang-plank was about to be hauled in.
"Write to us as often as you can, and remember your mother's parting
words. As often as I hear from you I shall expect to hear that you did
your duty. Remember too, that you are fighting in a just cause. The
North has forced this thing upon us, and we would be the veriest cowards
in the world if we did not defend ourselves. Good-by."
A moment later Rodney Gray was standing alone on the boiler deck, waving
his handkerchief to his father, and the _Mollie Able's_ bow was swinging
rapidly away from the landing. Young as he was the boy had traveled a
good deal and was accustomed to being among strangers; but now he was
homesick, and when it was too late he began to wonder at the step he had
so hastily taken, and ask himself how he could possibly endure a whole
year's separation from his father and mother.
"I've played a fool's part," thought he, bitterly, "and now I am going
to reap a fool's reward. Why didn't I stay with the company and share
its fortunes, as I said I was going to do, or why didn't father put his
foot down and tell me I couldn't go to Missouri? Heigh-ho! This is what
comes of being patriotic."
Then Rodney tilted his chair back on its hind legs, placed his feet on
the top of the railing and fell to wondering what had become of the rest
of the boys in his class, and whether or not all the Union fellows had
been as true to their colors as his cousin Marcy Gray had tried to be.
Some of the Barrington students who were strong for the Union were from
Missouri, and they did not believe in neutrality as Dick Graham did.
They believed in keeping the rebellious States in the Union by force of
arms if they would not stay in peaceably. Had they joined Lyon's army,
and would he and Dick have to meet them on the field of battle? He hoped
not, but if he did, he would be careful to follow the advice Ed Billings
gave his cousin Marcy and shoot high.
The journey up the river was an uneventful one. The tables were pretty
well filled at meal time, but Rodney could not have been more alone if
he had been stranded on some sandbar in the middle of the stream. His
horse was the only companion he had, and the animal seemed to be as
lonely and homesick as his master was. Rodney visited him a dozen times
a day to make sure that he did not want for anything, and the colt
always rubbed his head against the boy's shoulder and told him by other
signs, as plainly as a horse could tell it, that he was glad to see him.
There was an utter lack of that sociability and unrestrained intercourse
among the passengers that Rodney had always noticed during his trips up
and down the river. Some of them were solitary and alone like himself,
while others, having formed themselves into little groups, had nothing
to do with the rest of the passengers, but kept entirely on their own
side of the boiler deck. Rodney thought they acted as though they were
afraid of one another. This state of affairs continued until the _Mollie
Able_ reached Memphis, where the Confederates were building a fleet of
gunboats, and then a remark made by one of the passengers broke down all
reserve, and showed some of them, Rodney Gray among the rest, that they
had been keeping aloof from their friends.
"When these boats are completed," Rodney heard the passenger say to one
of his companions, "you will see fun on this river. The first point of
assault will be Cairo, and then we'll go on up and take St. Louis away
from Lyon's Dutchmen. Those Missourians are a pretty set of cowards to
let a lot of ignorant foreigners take their city out of their hands."
Well, they couldn't help it, and besides, the loyal Germans were by no
means as ignorant as some of the men who fought against them. They were
good soldiers and hard to whip; and it was owing to their patriotism and
courage that such fellows as Rodney Gray and Dick Graham did not succeed
in their efforts to "run the Yankees out of Missouri." And as for the
Confederate gunboats of which such great things were expected, they
were, with a single exception, destroyed in a fight of less than an
hour's duration by the Union fleet under the command of Flag Officer
Davis. The _Van Dorn_ alone escaped, and she was never heard of
afterward.
When the _Mollie Able_ resumed her journey Rodney waited and watched for
an opportunity to question the outspoken Confederate, for he believed he
could trust him. As he had often told himself, he was "going it blind,"
and a little information from some one who knew how things were going on
up the river, might be of the greatest use to him. The opportunity he
sought was presented the very next day. While he was feeding his horse
the Confederate sauntered along and stopped and looked at the colt with
the air of a man who knew a good thing when he saw it.
"There ought to be some 'go' in that fellow," said he.
"I think there is," replied Rodney. "But I have never tried him at his
best, and don't expect to unless the Yankees get after me."
"Well, if you keep on up the river you will go right where the Yankees
are," said the gentleman, who looked a little surprised. "If you are on
our side what are you doing here?"
"Pardon me, but I might ask you the same question," answered the boy
cautiously.
"My business is no secret," was the smiling reply. "I am going up into
Ohio after my family. I want to get them home while I can. All our
highways will be shut up after a while."
"Do you think there will be any fighting?"
"Lots of it, and I have promised to help"; and as the man said this he
put his hand into his pocket and drew out an official envelope. He
looked around the deck to make sure that there was no one within
earshot, and then produced a printed document which he unfolded and
handed over for Rodney's inspection. "I knew you were a Southerner the
minute I saw you, and have several times been on the point of speaking
to you, for you seemed lonesome and downhearted," he continued "But when
one is about to beard the lion in his den as I am, it behooves him to be
careful whom he addresses."
"That was the reason I kept to myself," answered Rodney, handing back
the paper which proved that his new acquaintance was a captain in the
Confederate army. "I should think you would be afraid to have that
commission about you. I left all my soldier things at home."
"I reckon I am safe now, but I might not be a week hence," said the
captain. "Who are you any way, if it is a fair question, and where are
you going?"
Rodney explained in a few hasty words, and was sorry to hear the captain
declare, as he shook his finger at him:
"You are making a great mistake. The place for a young man with a
military education is in the regular army; not the volunteers,
understand, but the regulars, who will be continued in the service after
our independence has been acknowledged. I am surprised that your friends
didn't point that out to you."
"I have gone too far along this road to back out now," replied Rodney.
"We'll get by Cairo all right, won't we?"
"I think so. There have been no restrictions placed upon travel yet that
I have heard of."
"How about Cape Girardeau?"
"That place is garrisoned. You mustn't think of getting off there. How
would you get through the lines without a pass?"
"Well, I must get off somewhere along the Missouri shore, for it
wouldn't be safe for me to go on to St. Louis."
"Of course it wouldn't. That Union cotton-factor would have you arrested
the minute you put your foot on the levee. I'll tell you what I'll do,"
said the captain, after thinking a moment. "The first clerk, with whom I
have a slight acquaintance, is solid, and I'll make it my business to
ask him if we are going to land anywhere on the Missouri side between
Cape Girardeau and St. Louis. If we are, I'll tip you the wink, and you
can be ready to go ashore."
"Thank you, sir," said Rodney, gratefully.
"That young chap has no idea what he is going into," said the captain,
after he had told Rodney's story to some of his friends on the boiler
deck. "It's neighbor against neighbor all through the southern and
western parts of Missouri, and for a week or two past there has been the
worst kind of a partisan warfare going on. How he is going to get
through I don't know, for if he meets an armed man on the way how is he
going to tell whether he is Union or Confederate?"
There was but one opinion expressed when the captain finished his story,
and that was that Rodney Gray was a foolhardy young fellow.