A BROKEN BARGAIN
Somers was entirely satisfied with himself when he stood in the presence
of the farmer and his son; and, so far as they were concerned, he had no
fears for the future. The redoubtable Tom retired to one corner of the
room, and, full of terror, awaited the issue. The father was the braver
of the two, and stood in the middle of the floor, confronting the
pestilent Yankee who had thus so unceremoniously invaded his house.
"Who be you?" demanded the old man.
"No matter who I am," replied Somers, with the pistol still in his hand.
"I propose to spend the day with you, and will pay for everything I
have."
"Perhaps yer will stay here, and perhaps yer won't," replied the farmer
doggedly.
"There's no perhaps about it; I intend to stay here."
"I s'pose yer don't keer whether I'm willing or not."
"On the contrary, I do care. I had much rather stay with your consent
than without."
"Well, then, yer won't stay with my consent."
"Then I shall stay without it," answered Somers, with a degree of
decision which was exceedingly annoying to his involuntary host.
"No, yer won't," growled the farmer.
"I will pay you well for the use of this room, and for all that I eat and
drink," said Somers, wishing to be fully understood.
"Yer can't stay here."
"No, yer can't," added Tom.
"I have made you a fair offer, and am willing to do what is right; and,
as I said before, I intend to stay here till to-night, whether you are
willing or not."
"Yer kin put up your pistol; I ain't afeerd on it."
"I have no desire to use the pistol to your injury, and shall not do so
unless in self-defense. You know that I am a fugitive."
"A nigger, by gracious!" exclaimed the farmer, whose vocabulary was very
limited, and who had no idea that the word "fugitive" could mean anything
but a runaway negro.
"You know that the soldiers are after me, and it will not be safe for me
to leave this house before dark. I'm not a nigger; and it makes no
difference to you what I am."
"You are a dirty Yankee; and I'd rather hev a hundred niggers in my house
than one Yankee."
"That's a matter of taste. If you are fond of negroes, I don't interfere
with you for that."
"Shet up!" snarled the farmer, highly displeased with the answer of the
fugitive. "I won't hev a Yankee in my house a single hour."
"Very well; we won't argue the matter. You can do anything you please
about it," replied Somers with perfect indifference as he seated himself
in a chair.
"Then yer kin leave."
"I shall not leave; on the contrary, I shall remain here till night."
"I reckon we'll see about that. I'll jest go down and call up two or
three of them soldiers, and let 'em know you're a Yankee. I calkilate
they'll tote you out of this rather sudden."
"Go ahead!" replied Somers coolly.
"I reckon ye'll tell another story by the time they git here."
"I reckon your son Tom will too," added the unwelcome guest.
"See here, dad; that won't work, nohow," interposed the hopeful son.
"They'll ketch me if yer do."
"Exactly so," added Somers, who, of course, had depended upon the
situation of the rebel deserter for his own safety.
The farmer looked at his intractable guest, and then upon his dutiful
son; and the idea tardily passed through his dull brain that the soldiers
would be just as dangerous to the welfare of the son as to the visitor.
Probably he had intended, when the military force came, to send Tom up
the chimney, as he had done a dozen times before; but the secret was no
longer in the keeping of the family alone.
"I see you understand the case perfectly," said Somers, as he
contemplated with intense satisfaction the blank dismay of both father
and son. "If you had the wisdom of Solomon, you couldn't comprehend it
any better."
"I reckon ye're about right, stranger," replied the farmer.
"You can see now it is for your interest as well as mine that we make
friends. Tom's safety and mine are both the same thing. The best you can
do is to take good care of me to-day, and at night help me to make my way
over to the other side of the river."
"Then yer be a Yank?"
"I didn't say so. Tom can go with me if he likes. He will be safer there
than here."
"Tom?"
"If he is a deserter from the rebel army, he will be caught sooner or
later, and be shot. He will be safe on the other side of the river."
"Go over to the Yanks! He hates 'em wurs'n pizin. Don't yer, Tom?"
"Bet yer life I do, dad," replied the hopeful son. "I won't go over thar,
nohow."
"Just as he pleases about that. I only wanted to do him a friendly act."
"Well, stranger, I don't mind keepin' yer to-day; but Tom can't go with
yer."
"Very well; then I will stay in this room; and, if the soldiers come, I
can go up the chimney with Tom," replied Somers. "I'm tired and sleepy.
Didn't sleep a wink last night. I will take a nap on the floor. You will
wake me, Tom, if there's any danger; won't you?"
"Yes, I'll wake yer," replied the deserter with a broad grin.
"We'll see that you don't git caught; kase, if yer do, of course, Tom'll
git caught too," added the farmer.
There was something in his manner which Somers did not like. Though he
was a man of dull mind, there was a kind of low cunning visible in his
look and manner which warned Somers to be cautious. He stretched himself
on the floor; and the farmer and his son left the room, closing the door
behind them.
Our scout was, as he had before declared, both tired and sleepy; but rest
and sleep were luxuries in which he could not permit himself to indulge
in the midst of so much peril and so many enemies. As soon as the door
closed behind the sire and the son, he rose from his reclining posture,
and hastened to reconnoiter the position. The enemy--for such he was
fully assured his host was--passed through the entry and out the door at
the back of the house, as Somers discovered from the noise of their
retreating footsteps.
There was a window in the rear of the room, which commanded a full view
of them as they paused near the door to consider the situation. Somers
raised the sash a little, so that he could hear what they said, not
doubting that his own case would be the subject of the conversation.
"Don't you do it, dad," protested Tom in answer to some proposition which
the farmer had made before the listener came within hearing distance of
them.
"Don't yer be skeert, Tom. The feller's gone ter sleep in there, and the
soldiers kin hurry him off afore he wakes up. Don't yer see, Tom? I
reckon the Yank's an officer, and they'll give me suthin handsome fur
ketchin him."
"Yes; but, dad, they'll get suthin handsome fur ketchin me too."
"You kin hide, as yer allers does when they comes."
"But the Yank will blow on me."
"What if he does?"
"He'll tell 'em I'm up chimley, and then they'll look fur me."
"Tom, ye're a bigger fool'n yer father!" said the farmer petulantly.
"Can't yer hide in t'other place down suller?"
"It looks kinder skeery, dad," replied the doubtful son.
"Yer used ter hide down suller more'n yer did up chimley. But don't yer
see, Tom, arter I've called in the soldiers, and give up the Yank,
they'll think I'm a patriot, and won't b'leeve nothin' a dirty Yank can
say agin' me."
"Well, dad, I hate the Yank as bad as you do; but yer must be keerful."
"Now go and see that the feller don't wake up and run off, and I'll go
down arter a sergeant and half a dozen men. When yer hear us comin', just
step down suller'n crawl inter the drean. Git the feller's pistol out of
his pocket, if yer kin, while he's asleep."
"What a precious old scoundrel that man is!" thought Somers, as he
retreated from the window, and threw himself on the floor where the
farmer had left him.
He almost regretted that he had not used his pistol on the treacherous
old villain, who had made a fair bargain with him, and agreed to the
terms of the contract. The wretch had actually gone after the soldiers to
entrap him, and Tom was to remain and keep watch of him in the meantime.
Taking the revolver from his pocket, he thrust it under his blouse; still
keeping his hand upon it, so as to make sure that the deserter did not
carry out his part of the programme. Thus prepared for the conflict which
might ensue, or for any other event, he closed his eyes, and pretended to
be asleep.
Presently the door softly opened, and Tom crept into the room. He had
taken off his shoes, that his step on the uncarpeted floor might not
disturb his prey, and stole towards him. After approaching as near to the
prostrate form as he dared, he bent over him to determine in which pocket
the pistol had been placed. Somers was tempted to grapple him by the
throat, as he listened to the young villain's subdued breathing; but he
feared that he would scream if he did so, and it was necessary to achieve
his conquest in a more gentle manner.
He moved his body a little, as if his slumbers were disturbed by
unpleasant dreams; and added a noise like a snore to complete the
delusion. Tom retired for a moment till his victim should again be
composed; but Somers, instead of subsiding into the slumber of a sleepy
and tired man, gradually opened his eyes and waked up. Slowly rising into
a sitting posture, he looked around him; and apparently, as if entirely
by accident, he discerned Tom.
"Can't yer sleep?" asked Tom, with extraordinary good nature for a person
of his saturnine disposition.
"I've been asleep these two hours, I believe," gaped Somers. "What time
is it, Tom?"
"'Tain't eight o'clock yet. Yer hain't been asleep more'n fifteen
minutes."
"Haven't I?"
"Not more'n that. Better lay down, and finish yer nap; kase I s'pose yer
won't git much sleep to-night, if ye're gwine over the river."
"I feel better than I did, at any rate. I think I'll get up. It's
tremendous hot here. Don't you ever open your windows?"
"I reckon we do. I was just thinkin' o' that."
And it was quite probable he was thinking of it; for he certainly wanted
the earliest information of the approach of the soldiers. He opened the
window in the front of the house, and Somers opened that in the rear. The
latter then went to the door, and took a careful survey of the entry, in
order to determine the way which the deserter must take to reach the
cellar, where he was to conceal himself when the soldiers came. The
prudent son of the master of the house had opened the door leading to the
cellar, from which he was to enter his subterranean retreat.
For more than an hour, Tom nervously watched the wakeful Yankee, and
several times suggested to him that he could sleep just as well as not,
promising to wake him up if there was any danger; but Somers was most
provokingly lively for a man who had been up all the preceding night, and
resolutely refused to take a hint or to adopt a suggestion. Both of them
were fearfully anxious for the result that was pending, and each had his
plan for overreaching the other. It was a long hour; but at last Tom
broke the spell which seemed to rest on both of them by declaring that he
was "clean choked up," and must go and get a drink of water. At the same
moment, Somers heard the tramp of the soldiers in the road as they
approached the house, and understood why his companion had suddenly
become so thirsty.
"No," said Somers, placing himself between the deserter and the door,
with the revolver in his hand. "I don't want to be left alone. Somebody
is coming to the house--half a dozen men. They are soldiers!" he
exclaimed, glancing out at the window.
"Run right up chimley thar, and you'll be as safe as if you was t'other
side of the river."
"But they'll catch you too! Come, Tom, up chimney with you, and I'll
follow. If any one attempts to follow us, I'll shoot him with my pistol.
Be in a hurry, Tom! We have no time to spare," urged Somers, driving the
coward before him towards the fire-place.
"You go up fust," pleaded Tom, in mortal terror of the revolver.
"Up with you, or I'll blow your brains out!" added Somers in a low,
fierce tone, which frightened his companion half out of his wits.
"Don't fire, and I will," replied the wretch, as he stepped into the
fire-place, and commenced the ascent of the chimney.
"Up with you!" repeated Somers. "Now, if you attempt to come down, I'll
shoot you."
The voice of the farmer, leading the soldiers to their prey, was now
heard close to the house; and Somers deemed it prudent no longer to
remain in the room. Darting out into the entry, he made his way to the
cellar, closing the door behind him just as the rebels were about to
enter.
"Where is he?" demanded the sergeant, who belonged to the battery at the
works near the house.
"In this room," replied the farmer, putting his hand on the door of the
apartment where he had seen the victim lie down to sleep an hour before.
"But yer must be keerful with him. He had a pistol, and mebbe he mought
shoot some on us."
"We aren't afraid of all the Yankees this side of the north pole," added
the sergeant, as he pushed the door open and entered the room, followed
by his squad of soldiers. "Where is he? There aren't no Yankee here."
"Well, he was here an hour ago," said the farmer.
"See here, old man, if you've been makin' a fool of us this hot day, I'll
spit you on my bayonet. We heard that a deserter and a Yankee had been
taken, and that the cavalry lost one of them."
"That was the Yankee. They lost him, and I found him ag'in."
"Where is he, then?"
"He aren't far from here," said the farmer, walking up to the fire-place,
and pointing up the chimney, where he had no doubt the victim had retired
when he heard the soldiers approaching.
"Up there?"
"That's where the feller hid when the troopers was lookin' fur him; and
yer kin be sure he's up there now. But yer must be keerful; fur he's got
a pistol, and is a mighty savage fellow."
"We'll soon bring him down," added the sergeant as he stepped into the
fire-place, and looked up the chimney. "I see him; but he's half way up
to the top. I reckon we can smoke him out best. Come, old man, take some
of this pitch-wood, that will make a big smoke, and kindle a fire."
"We'll soon have him," said the farmer as he obeyed the order.
"I say, Yank!" shouted the sergeant up the chimney; "if you don't want to
be smoked out, come down."
No answer came to this polite suggestion; and then one of the soldiers
proposed to fire his musket up the chimney; which so terrified the
occupant thereof, that he begged for mercy.
"Don't shoot, and I'll come down!" groaned the wretch.
"The cowardly Yank! He's like all the rest of them. Come down quick,
then!"
The farmer, who had stepped out for more wood, returned; and at the same
moment, Tom the deserter, begrimed with soot, dropped down on the hearth,
and stepped out into the room.