ON THE ROAD.
The breakfast which Nels and his assistant placed upon the table in due
time was eaten almost in silence, for those who sat down to it had so
much thinking to do that they had no time for conversation. When Rodney
Gray had satisfied his appetite he opened his trunk and took from it a
pair of saddle-bags, which he proceeded to fill with a variety of useful
articles. His thoughtful mother had packed the trunk as full as it could
hold, and Rodney could not take a quarter of the things with him. He
knew he couldn't when he started; but the trunk was necessary to aid him
in the game of deception he played upon the Baton Rouge telegraph
operators. By taking it aboard the _Mollie Able_, together with a
liberal supply of hay and grain for his horse, he led them to believe
that he was really going on to St. Louis. After filling the saddle-bags,
he rolled his blankets into a compact bundle so that he could strap them
behind him on his horse.
"I have left a good many things in there that I can't take with me,"
said he, as he locked the trunk and handed the key to Jeff. "And if I
don't come back and claim them within a reasonable time, you are at
liberty to take them for your own. How much damage have I done your
commissary department since I have been here?"
"How much damage have you done which?" exclaimed Jeff.
"How much do you want for the fodder I and my horse and that Yankee's
horse have eaten?" repeated Rodney.
"Oh; why didn't you say so? You and your horse are as welcome as the
flowers in May; and as for that thief's critter, I wouldn't let you pay
a cent for him any way. But I'm sorry you aint got your own boss to ride
to Springfield."
"So am I. Mine is the better horse, and besides I don't at all like the
idea of having every man I meet take me for a thief. Have you a revolver
you would be willing to sell at your own price?"
"What kind of a fellow are you, anyhow?" exclaimed Mr. Westall, who
stood by listening. "Do you mean to say that you have come up here,
intending to ride through these turbulent settlements, without bringing
along something to defend yourself with?"
"That is the most dangerous article I have about me," answered Rodney,
putting his hand into his pocket and drawing out the big jack-knife
Lieutenant Odell had given him the day before he left home. At the same
time he wondered what the Emergency man would have said and done if he
had been aware that the boy to whom he was talking had brought a
revolver with him, and that he had given it to Tom Percival to defend
himself in case he was attacked.
"I never heard of a more foolish piece of business," exclaimed Mr.
Westall, with an air which said very plainly that he had no patience
with such a fellow as Rodney Gray was. "What sort of people did you
think you were going to meet, I should like to know. I suppose you have
heard that there are Northern sympathizers in this State, and that they
are about the meanest folks you will find on top of the earth?"
"I have heard all about it; but I supposed that I should find our own
people in the majority. This is a Southern State, isn't it?"
"In some places they are in the majority and in some they are not,"
replied Mr. Westall. "Of course this is a Southern State; but don't you
know that those Dutchmen in St. Louis have gone back on Governor
Jackson, and that he and the members of the legislature have had to run
for their lives? Why, boy, you may be called upon to defend yourself in
less than an hour after we leave you. Got a revolver to spare, Jeff?"
"Aint got none of that sort," replied the wood-cutter. "There aint
nothing but rifles in the shanty."
"Then I shall be obliged to let you have one of mine," said the
Emergency man, taking a belt down from a peg beside the door, and
drawing an ancient Colt from one of the holsters. "I may be able to
replace it some time or other; but whether I am or not, you mustn't
think of starting for Springfield without a weapon where you can put
your hand on it. It is rather large and heavy for your pocket and you
have no belt; so you will have to shove it into your boot leg. That's as
handy a place to carry it as any I know of."
When both parties are willing to trade it does not take them long to
come to an understanding, and in a very short time some of Rodney's gold
went into Mr. Westall's pocket, and the revolver into the leg of the
boy's boot. In ten minutes more the horses had been brought out of the
yard and prepared for the journey, Rodney placing his own saddle and
bridle on his new steed, and leaving Tom's for Jeff to dispose of in any
way he saw proper.
"I reckon I'm just that much ahead of the hounds," said the wood-cutter,
with a grin. "That hoss-thief won't never dare to come after his saddle,
and mebbe it'll bring me in a few dollars for tobacker. Farewell, and be
sure and drop in as often as you come this way. Look out for yourself,
you Louisanner feller."
The path that ran through the woods to the big road leading from Cape
Girardeau to Lesterville, the place where Rodney's companions would take
leave of him and turn toward Ironton, was all of three miles long, and
so narrow that they were obliged to ride in a single file. Mr. Westall
remarked, with a careless laugh, that it was a good thing for them that
the people living in the vicinity were mostly Confederates, for the
woods on each side of the path were thick, and would afford the nicest
kind of cover for a bushwhacking party.
"I suppose there are plenty of Union people between here and your
settlement?" observed Rodney.
"Lots of 'em; and they are not only dead shots, but they know every hog
path in the woods and are as sneaking and sly as so many Indians.
They'll fight, too. We know that to be a fact, for we've got some of
them for near neighbors."
"Then perhaps it is just as well that you have me instead of Percival
with you," said Rodney. "If you had taken him a prisoner to Pilot Knob,
what assurance have you that you would not have been bushwhacked on the
way?"
"None whatever; but we would have been willing to take our chances on
it."
The Emergency man spoke carelessly enough, but Rodney noticed that he
had not neglected to make preparations for a fight. The single revolver
his belt contained had been transferred to the night holster, and the
strap that usually passed over the hammer to keep the weapon in place,
had been unbuttoned so that the heavy Colt could be drawn in an instant.
This made Rodney feel rather uneasy. Perhaps he would not have been so
very frightened at the prospect of a fair stand-up fight, but the fear
that somebody might cut loose on him or some member of his party with a
double-barrel shotgun before any of them knew there was danger near, was
more than his nerves could stand. He was glad when they left the woods
behind and rode out into the highway; but it wasn't half an hour before
he had occasion to tell himself that when the Emergency men took leave
of him and turned off toward their own settlement, the woods would be
the safest place for him. They were riding along two abreast, Mr.
Westall and Rodney leading the way, when, as they came suddenly to a
narrow cross-road, they found themselves face to face with a
long-haired, unkempt native mounted on the leanest, hungriest mule
Rodney had ever seen. He rode bare-back, his spine bent almost in the
form of a half circle, his body swaying back and forth, and with every
step his beast took he pounded its sides with the heels of his
boots--not with the object of inducing the mule to quicken its pace, but
because the motion had become a habit with him. He was surprised and
startled when he found himself so close to the Emergency men, and partly
raised the muzzle of the heavy double-barrel shotgun he carried in front
of him; but a second glance seemed to relieve his fears, for he grinned
broadly, and waited for the horsemen to come up.
"Wal, ye got him, didn't ye?" said he; and the words went far to confirm
the fear that had haunted Rodney Gray ever since he found that Tom
Percival had gone off with the roan colt, leaving his own
well-advertised horse behind him. This ignorant backwoodsman, who didn't
look as though he knew enough to go in when it rained, had recognized
the horse the moment he put his eyes on him.
"Oh, this isn't the man at all, Mister--a--I declare I have
disremembered your name," exclaimed Mr. Westall.
"I don't reckon ye ever knowed it, kase I never seed hide nor hair of
none of ye afore this day," replied the native, with another grin. "But
it's Swanson, if it will do ye any good to hear it. I live back here in
the bresh about a couple of milds."
"How does it come that you are so prompt to recognize us if you never
saw us before?" inquired Rodney.
"Oh, I hearn tell that there was some of Jeff Thompson's men riding
through the kentry looking for a hoss-thief, and I knowed the hoss when
I seen him. But ye say this aint the thief," answered the native, with
an inquiring glance at Mr. Westall.
"That was what I said," replied the Emergency man. "He is a friend of
ours, belongs to Price, and you want to take a good look at him and the
horse too, so that you will know them again if you happen to meet them
anywhere on the road."
And then Mr. Westall went on to tell who Tom Percival was and where he
lived, not forgetting to lay a good deal of stress on the statement that
he was not only a strong Union man, but a horse-thief as well. This made
Rodney angry, but of course he couldn't help himself.
"You want to keep a bright lookout for a young fellow in his stocking
feet, riding a bareback roan colt," said the Emergency man, in
conclusion. "If you fall in with such a chap, you will make something by
bringing him to Pilot Knob settlement and asking for Mr. Westall."
"I'll keep them words in mind," replied the native, urging the mule
forward by digging him in the ribs with his boot heels.
"You'll have to look in the woods for him," observed the man Harvey. "It
isn't at all likely that he will keep the road in daylight when he
hasn't a thing to defend himself with."
"I aint thinking about that any more'n I am about him having no boots
on," said the Missourian, looking back over his shoulder. "There's
plenty of mean folks in this kentry that'll give him we'pons and clothes
for the asking. If I can't get the drop on to him, I won't say a word to
him."
"This is just what I was afraid of," Rodney remarked, when the man had
passed out of hearing. "Every one who meets me on the road will look
upon me with suspicion, and perhaps I had better take to the woods
myself."
"Don't think of it," answered Mr. Westall, hastily. "You would be sure
to lose your way and stand a fine chance of being bushwhacked besides.
You will find that the boldest course is the best; and that's dangerous
enough, goodness knows," he added, in an undertone.
When the party halted for dinner the scene we have just described was
re-enacted. Before any of them had a chance to say a word the planter at
whose gate they stopped began abusing Rodney in the strongest language
he could command; and he was such a rapid talker that he succeeded in
saying a good many harsh things before Mr. Westall and his companions
could stop him. When he was made to understand that he had committed a
blunder, and that the boy was as good a Confederate as he was himself,
the planter was profuse in his apologies.
"Alight," said he, giving Rodney his hand and almost pulling him out of
his saddle. "I'm sorry for what I said, but that horse made me suspicion
you. I wouldn't ride him through the country for all the money there is
in Missoury. You'd best give up trying to find Price and jine in with
Thompson's men. You won't have to go so far to find 'em."
Rodney had thought of that, but there was Dick Graham! He could not give
up the hope of finding his old schoolmate and serving out his year with
him.
After the planter had given the Emergency men a good dinner he brought
out writing materials, and Mr. Westall proceeded to write the letter he
had promised to give Rodney, and which he hoped would be the means of
taking him safely through to Springfield. He and all his friends, the
planter included, signed it, and the boy tucked it into his boot leg.
"You may be sure that I shall not show it to any Union man," said the
latter, with a smile. "It would hang me."
When they passed through the little settlement of Lesterville about
three o'clock that afternoon, Rodney and the horse he rode attracted
attention on every hand. All the farmers in the country for miles around
seemed to have flocked into town to discuss the latest news, and the
streets were full of loungers, every one of whom stared at the party and
had something to say regarding the boy, who was supposed to be a
prisoner. On two or three occasions Mr. Westall thought it prudent to
stop and explain the situation; and every time he did so, the loungers
came running from all directions to hear about it. Some of them thought
that Tom Percival had played a regular Yankee trick on Rodney in running
off with the roan colt and leaving him a stolen horse to ride, and
advised him to look out for himself. The story that Mr. Westall and his
friends had circulated about Tom seemed to have made every one his
enemy.
"I suppose you think every man we have been talking to is a Jackson man,
don't you?" said Mr. Westall, when they had left the settlement behind
and reached the open country once more. "Well, they aint. I saw some
Union men listening to what we said, and if they see a roan colt and a
boy without any boots on, they'll halt them and give them aid and
comfort."
"I am very glad to hear that," said Rodney to himself. "Tom needs help,
if any one ever did, and I hope he will get it. It's going to be
ticklish business steering clear of Union men, is it not!" he said,
aloud.
Mr. Westall thought it was, but still he did not have very much to say
about it, for since Rodney was resolved to go on, he did not want to
discourage him. As his journey progressed he would learn all about the
obstacles and dangers that lay in his course, and when they came, he
would have to surmount or get around them the best way he could. A mile
or so farther on they came to another crossroad, and there Mr. Westall
drew rein and held out his hand to Rodney.
"Our course lies off that way," said he, "and we must bid you good-by.
You've got money and letters, and know as much about the road ahead of
you and the people who live on it as we know ourselves. Is there
anything we can do for you that you think of?"
"Not a thing, thank you," replied the boy, as he shook hands with each
of the Emergency men. "You have been very kind, and I believe the advice
and information you have given me will take me safely through. Good-by;
and whenever you hear that Price has whipped the Yankees, you may know
that I was there to help him do it."
"That's the right spirit, anyway. I like your pluck, and if we see you
again, we shall expect to see you wearing an officer's uniform."
The Emergency men lifted their hats and galloped off down the
cross-road, and Rodney Gray was left alone in a strange country, and
with letters on "his person that would compromise him with any party of
men into whose company he chanced to fall. There was Tom's horse, too.
The animal was bound to bring his rider into trouble of some sort, for
of course a description of him had been carried through the country for
miles in advance. He felt savage toward the innocent beast which was
carrying him along in an easy foxtrot, and bitterly hostile toward Tom
Percival who had blundered into his way when he was least expecting to
see him.
"Why didn't he stay in his own part of the State where he belonged?"
thought Rodney, spitefully. "I hope to goodness the Yankees--but after
all it was my own fault, for didn't I hand him that stick and give him
the only revolver I had? And he couldn't have got his own horse out of
that yard without arousing the dogs. It's all right, and I won't quarrel
with Tom Percival."
To Rodney's great relief he did not meet a man that afternoon (no doubt
the farmers had all gone into town to talk politics with their
neighbors), but there were plenty of womenfolks in the houses along the
road, and they had their full share of curiosity. They flocked to the
doors and windows and looked closely at him as he passed, and Rodney
knew well enough that the men would hear all about him when they came
home at night.
When darkness came on Rodney Gray began to realize the helplessness of
his position. It was time he was looking for a place to stay all night,
but what should he say to the farmer to whom he applied for supper and
lodging? If he told the truth and declared himself to be a Confederate,
and the farmer chanced to belong to the opposite side, or if he tried to
pass himself off for a Unionist and the farmer proved to be a red-hot
Jackson man:
"Ay, there's the rub," thought Rodney, looking down at the ground in
deep perplexity. "There's where the difficulty comes in, and I don't
know how to decide it."
He was not called upon to decide the matter that night, for while these
thoughts were passing through his mind, a voice a short distance in
advance of him began shouting:
"Pig-g-e-e! pig-g-i-i! pig-g-o-o!" And a chorus of squeals and grunts,
followed by a rush in the bushes at the side of the road, told him that
the call had been heard, and that the farmer's hogs were making haste to
get their supper of corn. Before Rodney could make up his mind whether
to stop or keep on, his horse brought him from behind the bushes which
had covered his approach, and the boy found himself within less than
twenty feet of a man in his shirt-sleeves, who stopped his shouting and
stood with an ear of corn uplifted in his hand.
"Evening," said Rodney, who saw that it was useless to retreat.
"I'll be dog-gone!" said the man, throwing the ear of corn with unerring
aim at the head of the nearest porker and beckoning to Rodney with both
hands. "Come out of the road. Come up behind the bresh and be quick
about it."
Rodney obeyed, lost in wonder; but as he rode across the shallow ditch
that ran between the road and the fence behind which the farmer stood,
he did not neglect to give his right leg a shake to loosen his revolver,
which during his long ride had worked its way down into his boot. Of
course the farmer had made a mistake of some kind, and Rodney was rather
anxious to learn what he would do when he found it out.
"I have been a-hoping that you would come along and sorter looking for
it," continued the man, as Rodney drew up beside the fence. "But I
didn't dast to look for such a streak of luck as this. He's waiting for
you."
"He? Who?" asked Rodney; and then he caught his breath and wondered if
he had done wrong in speaking before the man had opportunity to explain
his meaning.
"Tain't worth while for you to play off on me," replied the farmer,
leading the way along the fence and motioning to Rodney to follow. "I
know the whole story from beginning to end, but I can't take you where
he is tonight. You'll have to stop with me till morning, but you and the
critter'll have to be hid in the bresh, kase Thompson's men aint gone
away yet."
Here was one point settled, and it wasn't settled to the boy's
satisfaction, either. The man on the other side of the fence, who now
stopped and let down a pair of bars so that he could ride through into
the barnyard, was a Union man; and, to make matters worse he took Rodney
for the same. But what was that story he had heard from beginning to
end, and who was it that was waiting for him? Rodney dared not speak for
fear of saying something he ought not to say, and so he held his peace.
When he had followed his guide through the yard and into a small
building that looked as though it might have been fitted up for a
cow-stable, the latter continued, speaking now in his natural tone of
voice as if he were no longer in fear of being overheard:
"He was looking for me all the time, and I knowed it the minute I set
eyes on to him."
"Friend of yours?" said the boy, at a venture.
"In a sartin way he are a friend, but I never see him till this
afternoon. I know his uncle up to Pilot Knob, and when I see him riding
by the house and looking at it as though he'd like to say something if
he wasn't afraid, I told him to 'light, and asked him wasn't he looking
for Merrick. That's me, you know. He said he was, and you might have
knocked me down with a straw when he told me he was kin to old Justus
Percival. Why don't you 'light?"
The farmer might have knocked Rodney down with a straw too, if he had
had one handy, for the boy was very much surprised. He got off his horse
somehow and managed to inquire:
"What did he tell you about me that made you know me as quick as you saw
me?"
"He told me everything about you--how you had run away from Louisianner
kase your folks was all dead set agin the Union, and come up to Missoury
thinking to get amongst people of your own way of thinking, and run plum
into a nest of traitors before you knowed it."
"That was at Cedar Bluff landing, was it?" said Rodney.
"That's the place. And then he told me how you played off on them
wood-cutters till you made 'em think you was hot agin the Union, same as
they was, and so they give you a chance to holp him outen that corn-crib
and shove him a revolver to take care of himself with."
"And how did he repay my kindness?" said Rodney. "By taking my colt and
leaving me a stolen horse to ride."
"This critter wasn't stolen no more'n your'n was," replied the farmer,
in tones so earnest that Rodney began to fear he had stepped upon
dangerous ground. "That was a lie that man Westall and amongst 'em got
up to drive him outen his uncle's settlement. This is his hoss and he's
got your'n."
"Where is he now?"
Instead of answering the farmer gave Rodney's arm a severe gripe and
shake, and then seized the horse by the nose. A second later they heard
a body of men riding along the road in front of the cow-stable.
"Don't give a loud wink," said the farmer, in a thrilling whisper.
"Them's some of Thompson's critter-fellers."