COMPARING NOTES.
Rodney Gray held his breath and listened, and then he stepped close to
the side of the stable and looked through a crack between the logs. It
was almost dark by this time, but still there was light enough for him
to count the men who were riding by, and he made out that there were an
even dozen of them. They knew enough to move two abreast but not enough
to carry their guns, which were held over their shoulders at all angles,
and pointed in almost every direction.
"Are they guerrillas?" he asked, at length.
"Ger--which?" whispered the farmer. "Them's Thompson's men, and I don't
like to see 'em pointing t'wards the swamp the way they be."
"What's down there?" inquired Rodney.
"Why, he's down there," replied Merrick, in a surprised tone. "Tom
Percival, I mean."
"Anybody with, him?" continued Rodney.
"Half a dozen or so Union men, who had to clear out or be hung by
Thompson's men," replied the farmer. "If you knowed just how things
stand here in Missoury, and how sot every man is agin his nearest
neighbor, I don't reckon you'd ever tried to ride to Springfield."
"I am quite sure I wouldn't," answered Rodney. "How do Thompson's men
happen to know that Percival is hiding down there in the swamp?"
"I reckon Swanson must a told 'em; and he's the meanest man that was
ever let live, as you would say if you could have one look at his
face."
"I met him to-day while I was riding in company with Mr. Westall and his
friends," replied Rodney. "They made him believe I was a good rebel, and
told him to look out for a boy in his stocking feet who was mounted on a
roan colt."
"And that's just what he done. I reckon he must a ketched a glimpse of
Percival just before I fetched him into the house, for I had barely time
to hide the roan colt and get the boy into the kitchen before I seen
Swanson riding by. He didn't once look toward the house but that didn't
fool me, and I lost no time in taking Percival into the swamp where them
Union friends of mine is hid. Swanson went right on past, leaving word
at all the houses of the 'Mergency men that there was a Yankee
horse-thief loose in the kentry, and they've went out to ketch him. They
know where he is, and think to surround him and the rest of the Union
fellers and take 'em in in a lump; but they'll get fooled. There's some
sharp men in that party, and they won't allow themselves to be
surrounded."
The farmer did not tell this story in a connected way as he would if
there had been no danger near. He kept moving from one side of the
stable to another, listening and peeping at all the cracks, and talked
only when he stopped to take the horse by the nose to prevent him from
calling to those that were passing along the road; but he said enough to
make Rodney very uneasy. Tom Percival had done him a great favor by
telling Merrick who he was, describing him and his horse so minutely
that the man knew them the instant he saw them, and Rodney was very
grateful to him for it; but that sort of thing must not on any account
be repeated. It must be stopped then and there if there was any way in
which it could be done. It would never do to let Tom keep ahead of him,
spreading a description of himself and his horse among the farmers who
lived along the old post-road, for he might, without knowing it, take a
Confederate into his confidence; and suppose Rodney should afterward
fall in with that same Confederate and show him the letter addressed to
Mr. Percival, and which was intended for the eyes of Union men only? The
Confederate would at once accuse him of sailing under false colors, and
trying to pass himself off for one of Price's soldiers when he was in
reality a Lincolnite. The boy shivered when he thought of the
consequences of such a mistake.
"I'll tell you what's a fact," he said, to himself, stamping about the
stable with rather more noise than he ought to have made, seeing that
the guerrillas had barely had time to get out of hearing. "The farther I
go toward Springfield, the deeper I seem to get into trouble. I must
either find Tom and ride the rest of the way with him, or else I must
get ahead of him. If I don't do one or the other he will put me into a
scrape that I can't work out of."
"Now you stay here and I will go out and snoop around a bit," said
Merrick, when the sound of the hoof-beats could be no longer heard.
"What I am afraid of is that they will leave some of their men to watch
the house."
"Do your neighbors know that you are a Union man?" asked Rodney, as he
stepped up and took the horse by the bits.
"They know I'm neutral, and that's just about as bad as though they knew
I was Union," was the reply. "They aint done nothing to me yet but I
know I'm watched, and so I have to mind what I am about. If the men who
just went by knew how I feel, I wouldn't dast to lift a hand to help
you. They'd have me hung to one of my shade trees before morning."
As Merrick spoke he glided out into the darkness, and Rodney was left
alone to think over the situation; but Merrick had not been gone more
than five minutes when the horse indicated by his actions that there was
some one approaching the stable. Presently a twig snapped, a hand was
passed along the wall outside and a figure appeared in the doorway. It
wasn't tall enough for Merrick, and besides it had a coat on. Believing
that it was one of Thompson's men who had been left behind to watch the
house, Rodney drew his revolver from his boot leg and cocked it as he
raised it to a level with his eyes and covered the figure's head.
"Don't shoot, Merrick," said the intruder, who had probably heard the
click of the hammer. "What's the good of helping a fellow one hour if
you are going to shoot him the next?"
"Tom Percival!" exclaimed Rodney, in guarded tones.
In an instant the figure sprang into the stable and seized Rodney in his
arms.
"Did anybody ever hear of such luck?" said Tom, who was the first to
recover his power of speech. "Where are you going and what business have
you got up here in my State, you red-hot rebel?"
"I never expected to be on such terms with a Yankee horse-thief,"
answered Rodney, letting down the hammer of his revolver and putting the
weapon back in its place.
"I knew just how much faith you would put in that outrageous story,"
said Tom. "It was got up against me on purpose to induce the planters in
my uncle's settlement to run me out."
"To hang you, you mean," corrected Rodney. "That's what they would have
done with you before to-morrow morning."
"If it hadn't been for you," added Tom; and he did not talk like a boy
who had so narrowly escaped with his life. "I heard your story down
there in Jeff's cabin, and knew that you kept your promise and enlisted
within twenty-four hours after you reached home. And I know, too, that
your company didn't want to join the Confederate army or leave the
State. What did they want to do then? They're a pretty lot of soldiers.
Well, it's a good thing for them that they stayed at home, for you
rebels are going to get such a licking--"
"Have you licked Dick Graham back into a proper frame of mind yet?"
interrupted Rodney.
"No. Haven't had the chance. He helped raise the first company of
partisans that left the southwestern part of the Slate to join Price,
and I have scarcely heard of him since. I had a lively time dodging
Price's men when I went up to St. Louis to offer the services of my
company to Lyon, and when I heard you tell Westall that you were going
to undertake the same kind of a journey, I felt sorry for you. I am
overjoyed to see and have a chance to speak to you, Rodney, but I don't
know whether we ought to stick together or not. Of course Merrick took
you for a Union man," added Tom, in a suppressed whisper.
"Certainly. I didn't have much to say to him until I found out who he
thought I was. Did you go it blind when you addressed him as a Union
man?"
"Oh, no. I know the name of every man it will do to trust for twenty
miles ahead," replied Tom. "But I've got his name in my head. I haven't
a scrap of writing about me, and I am sorry to know that you have. Take
my advice and stick everything in the shape of a letter you have in your
pockets into the tire the first good chance you get."
"I have been thinking about that all the afternoon. What if I should
fall in with a party strong enough to search me? I've got a letter
addressed to Erastus Percival."
"Where in the world did you get it?" demanded Tom, who was greatly
astonished. "Man alive, he's my father."
"So I supposed. It was given to me by Captain Howard whose acquaintance
I made aboard the _Mollie Able_, and he got it from a friend of his."
"My limited knowledge of the English language will not permit me to do
this subject justice," declared Tom. He looked around for something to
sit down on, and then leaned against the wall for support. "My father
has heard of you and would have helped you at the risk of his life. He
wouldn't go back on a Barrington boy any more than I would; but if you
should be searched by rebels anywhere between here and Springfield, that
letter would hang you. Burn it before you take the road to-morrow."
"If your father is so well known, I don't see why his neighbors haven't
hung him before this time," said Rodney.
"It's safer to try the bushwhacking game, and he has been shot at three
times already. He doesn't expect to live to see the end of these
troubles, but he is like your cousin Marcy Gray--he doesn't haul in his
shingle one inch. Burn that letter, I tell you."
"I didn't intend to present it unless I had to," replied Rodney. "Now,
then, what brought you here? I thought you were hidden in the swamp
along with some other refugees."
"So I was; but I came back on purpose to see if Merrick had heard
anything from you. I was on my way to the house when I thought I would
stop and look in here. I was hidden in the bushes when those Emergency
men rode down the road. Of course they are going to the swamp, and I
don't know whether I can get back there to-night or not. I wonder how
they got on to my track so quick."
Rodney said that Merrick thought it was through old man Swanson. Tom
replied that he had never heard of such a man, and Rodney went on to
tell of his accidental meeting with him at the cross-roads, adding:
"Mr. Westall told him that I and my horse were all right, and not to be
interfered with, and that he would make something by keeping a bright
lookout for a boy without any boots on, and a roan colt. One of the
party also told him that you were unarmed, but Swanson didn't take much
stock in that. He declared that there were plenty of people in the
country who would be mean enough to give you clothes and weapons for the
asking, and I reckon he was about right. I gave you a revolver and I see
some one else has furnished you with a pair of boots. Now, didn't you
know, when you ran off with my horse, leaving yours for me to ride, that
every man I met would take me for you?"
"That's a fact," replied Tom, "but I never thought of it before. But I
couldn't get my horse out of the yard without scaring the others, and so
I had to do the best I could. Now that I think of it, perhaps we had
better let the trade stand a little while longer."
"Oh, do you?" exclaimed Rodney. "You have good cheek I must say."
"It isn't cheek at all, but a desire to keep you out of trouble as long
as I can," answered Tom.
"Making me ride a horse that has been advertised all through the country
as stolen property is a good way to keep me out of trouble, isn't it
now?" said Rodney. "I never should have thought of it if you hadn't
mentioned it."
"Hold on a bit," replied Tom. "No one in this section is looking for you
now. You can take the road and keep it, and the horse you ride will not
bring you into trouble; but if that roan colt shows his nose where
anybody can see it, he'll be nabbed quicker'n a flash, and his rider
too. See? As I am a little more experienced in dodging about in the
bushes than you are, you had better let me take the risk."
"I never could look a white man in the face again if I should do that,"
answered Rodney. "Don't you know what will be done with you if you are
caught?"
"I shan't run anymore risk than you did when you helped me get out of
that corncrib," said Tom, reaching for his schoolmate's hand in the dark
and giving it a hearty squeeze. "Don't you know what would be done to
_you_ if you were caught with that roan colt in your possession? You
would be taken back to Mr. Westall's settlement, and when he saw that
you were riding the same horse you rode when you came to Cedar Bluff
landing, wouldn't he want to know where you got him? Can you think of
any answers you could give that would satisfy him? I'll trade revolvers,
if you want yours back (I know you've got one, for I heard you cock it
when I came to the door), but I really think you had better let me keep
your horse a little while longer. I hear somebody coming," he added,
stepping to the nearest crack and looking out. "It's Merrick. I can see
his white shirt."
A moment later the owner of the stable came in, and was not a little
surprised when he heard himself addressed by the boy whom he supposed to
be snugly hidden in the deepest and darkest nook of the swamp. Tom told
him why he had come back instead of keeping out of sight, and asked what
had become of the squad of men he saw riding along the road a while
before.
"They kept on as far as I could hear 'em," replied the farmer, "and if
they left any one behind to watch the house, they were so sly about it
that I never seen it."
"Of course it was broad daylight when Tom came to your house," said
Rodney. "Well, how do you know but that man Swanson saw him when he went
in?"
"I don't know it," replied Merrick. "But even if he did see Percival go
in, these 'Mergency men won't never say a word to me about it, kase they
know well enough that if they should hurt a hair of my head, some of my
friends would bushwhack 'em to pay for it. They would send word over
into the next county, and some fellers from there would ride over some
dark night and set my buildings a-going, or pop me over as quick as they
would a squirrel, if they could get a chance at me. That's the way we do
business nowadays, and that's the reason we don't never go to the door
when somebody rides up and hails the house after dark."
"Why, I wouldn't live in such a country," said Rodney.
"What would you do, if everything you had in the world was right here
and you couldn't sell it and get out?" replied the farmer. "You'd stay
and look out for it, I reckon, and make it as hot as you could for any
one who tried to drive you away. But driving is a game two can play at,"
added Merrick, with a low chuckle; and Rodney noticed that he ceased
speaking once in a while and turned his head on one side as if he were
listening for suspicious sounds. "I don't say I have rode around of
nights myself and I don't say I aint; but I do say for a fact that if
you go over into the next county, you won't find so many men there who
make a business of shooting Union folks as there used to be. Some parts
of the kentry t'other side the ridge looks as though they had been
struck by a harrycane that had blew away all the men and big boys."
This was what Captain Howard must have meant when he warned Rodney that
every little community in the Southern part of the State was divided
into two hostile camps. This was partisan warfare, and Rodney wanted to
be a partisan.
"Is that the sort of partisan you are, Tom?" he inquired, when Merrick
went out again to see if it would be safe for them to go into the
kitchen and get supper. "I wish I had had sense enough to stay at
home."
"I wish to goodness you had," said Tom honestly. "Not but that you've
got as much sense as most boys of your age, but you know as well as I do
that the Barrington fellows used to say you didn't always know what you
were about. Why, when I heard you telling your story to Mr. Westall down
there in Jeff's shanty, it was all I could do to keep from saying, right
out loud, that such a piece of foolishness had never come under my
notice before."
"Where would you be at this moment if I hadn't been in Jeff's cabin last
night?" retorted Rodney.
"Well, that's a fact," said Tom thoughtfully. "About the time I felt
that stick and revolver in my hands, I was mighty glad you were around;
but as soon as I had used them, I wished from the bottom of my heart
that you were safe back in your own State. But since you are here, I am
going to do my level best for you; and that's the reason I am going to
keep your horse a little longer. If I don't give him back to you some
day, you can keep mine to remember me by."
"And every time I look at him, I shall be reminded that I have been
taken for a horse-thief," added Rodney.
"You are no more of a horse-thief than I am. Let that thought comfort
you. How is it, Merrick?" he went on, addressing himself to the farmer
who at that moment glided into the stable with noiseless footstep. "Can
we go in and get supper, or will it be safer for you to bring it out to
us?"
"You are to come right in," was the farmer's welcome reply. "It'll be
safe, for I have cleared the kitchen of everybody except the old woman.
She's Secesh the very worst kind, but that needn't bother you none. She
knows how to get up a good supper."
"That is a matter that has a deeper interest for us just now than her
politics," said Tom. "But what shall we do with the horse?"
"As soon as I have showed you the way to the table I'll come back and
stay with him so't he won't whinny," answered Merrick. "If them
'Mergency men heard him calling they might think it was one of my own
critters and then agin they mightn't; so it's best to be on the safe
side."
That the farmer was very much afraid that the horse might betray his
presence to the guerrillas was evident from the way he acted. He took
long, quick steps when he started for the house, gave the two boys a
hurried introduction to his wife, saw them seated at the table and then
ran out again. Mrs. Merrick remained in the room to wait upon them, and
that was an arrangement that Tom Percival did not like; for although she
proved to be a pleasant and agreeable hostess and never said a word
about politics, Tom did not think it safe to talk too freely in her
presence, and took the first opportunity that was offered to give Rodney
a friendly warning.
"After you have been in this country a while, you will find that the
women are worse rebels than the men," said he, in an undertone. "I don't
suppose she would lead the Emergency men on to us, for that would get
Merrick into trouble; but such things have been done in the settlement
where I live. We can't do any more talking at present. Have another
piece of the toast?"
"If I had passed through as many dangers as you have and had as narrow
an escape, I don't think I could eat as you do," said Rodney, who took
note of the fact that his friend had not lost any of his appetite since
he left Barrington.
"I've had three good meals to-day, and a hearty lunch in the swamp; but
I don't know when I have been so hungry," replied Tom; and then seeing
that Rodney cast occasional glances toward the kitchen stove in which a
bright fire was burning, he continued, in an earnest whisper, "This is
as good a chance as you will have. Chuck 'em in, and you'll not regret
it; but if you have no objections, I should like to read them before you
do it. I'll keep mum."
Rodney knew that, and forthwith produced the letters, which had been a
source of anxiety to him ever since they came into his possession, and
also Mr. Graham's last telegram. Tom said he did not know either of the
men whose names were signed to the letters that came through Captain
Howard, but he was better acquainted with Mr. Westall and his four
companions than he cared to be.
"The man who wrote this letter to Erastus Percival, my father, must be
some one down the river who has had business dealings with him; but I
don't know the gentleman," said he, after he had run his eye over the
various documents. "Put the whole business right into the stove. You
don't want any such papers about you, for you don't know whom you are
going to meet on the road. Trust to luck; stare Fate in the face, and
your heart will be aisy if it's in the right place."
If Mrs. Merrick was surprised or suspected anything when Rodney put the
letters into her stove and stood over them long enough to see them
reduced to ashes, she made no remark. As he was about to return to his
seat at the table there came a sound that arrested his steps, and
brought Tom Percival out of his chair in a twinkling. The doors and
windows were all closed (the curtains were pulled down as well, so that
no one on the outside could see into the room), but the words, which
were uttered in a muffled voice, came distinctly to their ears:
"Hallo, the house!"
"There they are," whispered Tom, thrusting his hand into his breast
pocket and glancing toward Rodney as if to assure himself that the
latter could be depended on in an emergency.
"Sit down and keep perfectly quiet," said Mrs. Merrick, in a calm tone.
"They are ready to shoot, and you mustn't move about for fear of
throwing your shadow upon one of the window curtains."
[Illustration: MRS. MERRICK STANDS GUARD.]
"Are they looking for your husband?" Rodney managed to ask.
"I suppose they are," answered the woman, who did not even change color.
"I will go to the door and find out."
"You mustn't," protested Rodney. "Mr. Merrick said he didn't take any
notice of hails after dark."
"He doesn't, but I do," replied the wife. "Somebody must answer, or we
couldn't live in this country a day longer."
"Do you recognize the voice?"
"Of course not," said Tom Percival. "They are strangers from some other
county."
"Why can't we go with her and return their fire," exclaimed Rodney, as
Mrs. Merrick left the room and moved along the wide hall toward the
front door. "I'll not stay here like a bump on a log and let her be shot
at, now I--"
"Come back here. Sit down and behave yourself or you'll play smash,"
said Tom, earnestly. "They'll not harm her. It's her husband they are
after. Now listen."
Rodney sat down in the nearest chair, rested the hand that held his
revolver on the table, and waited and listened with as much patience as
he could command.