BREAKING UP A DEN OF COPPERHEADS.
"COME, hustle these prisoners back into the car in which we were,"
commanded the Lieutenant. "We'll leave it on the switch with a guard.
Lock it up carefully, and one man'll be enough to guard it until we get
back. Make haste, for we've no time to lose. Shorty."
"Corpril Elliott," Shorty corrected him, mindful of the presence of
Sergeant Bob Ramsey.
"Yes; excuse me. Corporal Elliott, while we are attending to the
prisoners you go on ahead and reconnoiter. You need not stop unless you
see fit until you are clear into the lodge. Give one low whistle if you
want us to stop, two to come ahead and three to go back."
It was a moonless night, and the broom-like tops of the close-growing
beeches made a dense darkness, into which Shorty plunged, but he could
readily make out a well-beaten path, which he followed. Occasionally
he could make out dark figures moving just ahead of him or crossing the
path.
"Goin' to be a full attendance at the services this evenin'," he
muttered to himself. "But the more the merrier. It'll insure a
goodly number at the mourner's bench when we make the call for the
unconverted."
Big and lumbering as Shorty sometimes seemed in his careless hours, no
wildcat gliding through the brush was more noiseless-footed than he now.
He kept on the darker side of the path, but not a twig seemed to crack
or a leaf rustle under his heavy brogans. Twice he heard lumbering steps
in his rear, and he slipped behind the big trunk of a tree, and saw
the men pass almost within arm's length, but without a suspicion of his
presence.
"Well, for men workin' a dark-lantern job this is about the logiest
crowd I ever struck," he said rather disgustedly. "An elephant'd have
to step on 'em before they'd know he was around. They ain't hardly good
fun."
Presently he heard some rustling over to his right and caught the low
murmur of a voice. He cautiously made his way in that direction until
he made an opening, with a number of men sitting on a log, while others
were standing, leaning on their guns.
"Probably a caucus outside to set up the pins before goin' into the full
meetin'," he said to himself. "As I always like to be with the winnin'
side, I guess I'll jest jine 'em."
He advanced boldly into the opening. At the sound of his approach the
men looked up, and one of those leaning on his gun picked it up and came
toward him.
"You are out late," he whispered, when within speaking distance.
"Yes," answered Shorty. "And I was out late last night."
"Did you see a star?"
"I did."
"What star was it?"
"It was the Star of Bethlehem."
The first speaker had seemed to start at the sound of Shorty's voice,
but he recovered himself, and saying, "You're right, my brother," put
out his hand for the grip.
"'Taint right, neither," hissed Shorty. "Si Klegg, what are you doin'
here?"
"Shorty!" ejaculated Si, joyfully, but still in a whisper. "I thought I
knowed your voice. Where in the world did you come from?"
"I'm here on business," answered Shorty. "I came up from Headquarters at
Jeffersonville. What brung you here?"
"O," said Si, "we've bin hearin' about this Copperhead lodge for some
time, and some of us boys who's home on furlough thought that we'd come
down here with the Deputy Provo and bust it up. We've bin plannin' it
a week or two. All these that you see, there are soldiers. I've 15,
includin' myself."
The boys hastily conferred together as to the plan of operations, and
one man was hurried back to inform Lieut. Bigelow of the presence of the
other squad.
"You seem to know most about this affair. Shorty," said Si. "You take
command and make arrangements."
"Not for a minute. Si," protested Shorty. "You rank me and you must
command, and I want you to hold your own over Bob Ramsey, who will try
to rank you. Bob's a good boy, but he's rather too much stuck on his
stripes."
It was finally arranged that Si should move his squad out to near the
edge of the path and wait for Lieut. Bigelow to come up, while Shorty
should go forward and reconnoiter.
Shorty walked along the path toward the lodge. Suddenly the large figure
of a man loomed up before him, standing motionless, on guard, in the
road.
"You are out late, my friend," said he.
"Yes," answered Shorty.
"Did you see a star?"
"Yes."
"What was it?"
"The Star of Bethlehem."
"You are right, my brother," said the man, extending his hand for the
grip.
"This rotten star-and-brother rigmarole's making me sick," muttered
Shorty, with a hasty glance to see that the man was alone, and grasping
his hand with a grip of iron, while with his left he clutched the
sentry's throat. Before the man could utter a groan he wrenched him
around and started him back for Si. Arriving there he flung him under
the trees, saying in a loud whisper:
"First sucker o' this Spring's run. String him. Si."
Lieut. Bigelow had come up in the meanwhile with the other squad, and
they all moved cautiously forward to where they could get a dim sight
of the lodge through the intervals between the trees. For a log house it
was quite a large building, and stood in the center of a small clearing
which had been made to furnish logs for its erection. Faint gleams of
light came through the badly-chinked walls, and the hum of voices showed
that there was a large crowd gathered inside.
"There's likely to be from 100 to 150 in there," said the Lieutenant,
after a moment's consideration. "We've got 27 or 28. We'll jump them,
though, if they're a thousand. Corporal Elliott, you go forward and make
your way inside, if you can, and see what they are doing. If you can get
inside, stay 10 or 15 minutes, and come out and report. If you can't get
out, or you think they are ripe for jumping, whistle, and we'll pile in.
Sergeant Klegg, you hold your squad together and move down as near the
door as you can without being seen and be ready for a rush. Find a
rail or a log to smash the door in if they try to hold it against us.
Sergeant Ramsey, deploy your men quietly around to the rear there to cut
off retreat, but be ready to rally again and help Sergeant Klegg out
if he strikes a big snag. You make the circuit of the house and post
yourself where you can see what's going on, and signal your men.
Everybody keep under the shadow of the trees and make no noise. Go on to
the house, Corporal."
Shorty left the cover of the trees and walked directly toward the front
door. No one appeared or halted him until he pushed the front door open.
Then a man who seemed more intent on what was going on inside than the
new arrival, bent his head over to catch the farrago about the star, and
put out his hand for the grip.
"Come on in, but don't make a noise," he whispered. "They're givin' the
obligation, and I want to hear it."
Shorty stood beside him for a moment, and then watched his opportunity,
and pressed by him, to where he could see into the room. It was entirely
dark except for the light of a single candle, shaded so that its rays
fell upon a rude altar in the center of the room, draped with a rebel
flag. Upon this lay a naked sword, skull and cross-bones. Behind the
altar stood a masked man, draped in a long shroud, who was mouthing in
a sepulchral tone the obligation to several men kneeling in front of the
altar. The dim light faintly revealed other masked and shrouded figures
stationed at various places about the room and looming above the seated
audience.
"You solemnly swear," droned the chief actor, "to resist to the death
every attempt to place the nigger above the white man and destroy the
Government of our fathers."
"We do," responded those kneeling at the altar.
"Let it be so recorded," said a sepulchral voice from the other
extremity of the room. A gong sounded dismally and a glare of lurid red
light filled the room.
"Regler Sons o' Malty biziniss, like I seen in St. Looyey," commented
Shorty to himself. "Masks, shrouds, red fire and gong, all the same. But
where've I heard that croakin' voice before?"
"You solemnly promise and swear," resumed the sepulchral tones of the
chief actor, "to do all in your power to restore the Constitution and
laws of this country to what were established by the fathers and resist
the efforts of nigger-loving Abolitionists and evil-minded fanatics to
subvert them."
"We do," responded the kneeling men.
Again the grewsome gong sounded, the red fire glared forth and the
hollow voice announced that it was so recorded.
"I'll bet six bits to a picayune," said Shorty to himself, "that I know
the rooster who's doin' them high priest antics. Where'd I hear his
voice before?"
"And, finally, brethren," resumed the chief actor, "do you solemnly
promise and swear to cheerfully obey all orders given you by officers
regularly appointed over you according to the rules and regulations of
this great order and military discipline?"
There was a little hesitation about this, but the kneeling ones were
nudged and whispered to, and finally responded:
"We do."
Again it was funereally announced to the accompaniment of flashes of red
fire and the gong that it was duly recorded.
"Great Jehosephat, if it ain't old Billings himself that's doin' that
heavy tragedy act," said Shorty, slapping himself on the thigh. "The
old dregs o' the bottomless pit! Is there any deviltry that he won't git
into?"
His decision was confirmed a minute or two later, when, after some more
fanfarronade the initiation ended, the officers removed their masks and
shrouds, and the candles in the sconces around the room were relighted.
Billings took his seat on the platform at the end of the room farthest
from the door, picked up the gavel and rapped for order.
"Now, brethren," said he, "having witnessed the solemn initiation of
several brave, true men into our rapidly-swelling ranks and welcomed
them as real patriots who have united with us to resist to the bitter
end the cruel tyrannies of the Abolition despot at Washington--the
vulgar railsplitter of the Sangamon, who is filling this once happy land
with the graves of his victims, we will proceed to the regular business
for which we have assembled. I regret that our gallant Captain has
not yet arrived with the supply of arms and ammunition that he went to
Jeffersonville to secure. I thought I heard the whistle of the train
some time ago, and have been expecting him every minute. He may be here
yet."
"Not if that guard at the switch 'tends to his little business, he
won't," Shorty chuckled to himself.
"When he gets here," continued Billings, "we shall have enough weapons
to finish our outfit, and give every member, including them initiated
tonight, a good, serviceable arm, as effective as any in the hands of
our enemies. We shall then be in shape to carry out the several projects
which we have before discussed and planned. We shall be ready to strike
at any moment. When we do strike success is sure. The Southern armies,
which have so long bravely battled for the Constitution and the laws
and white men's rights, are again advancing from every point. Every
mail brings me glad good news of the organization of our brave friends
throughout this State and Illinois. They're impatient to begin. The
first shot fired will be the signal for an uprising that'll sweep over
the land like a prairie fire and--"
He stopped abruptly, contracted his brows, and gazed fixedly at Shorty.
"Brother Walker," said Billings, "there's a tall man settin' close
by the door that I seem to've seen before, and yit I don't exactly
recognize. Please hold that candle nigh his face till I can see it more
plainly."
Shorty happened to be looking at another man that minute, and did not at
first catch the drift of Billings's remarks. When he did, he hesitated
an instant whether to whistle or try to get out. Before he could decide,
Eph Glick, whom he had raided at Jeffersonville, struck him a heavy blow
on the side of his head and yelled:
"He's a traitor! He's a spy! Kill the infernal, egg-suckin' hound!"
There was a rush of infuriated men, which carried Shorty over and made
him the object of a storm of blows and kicks. So many piled on him at
once that they struck and kicked one another in their confusion. The
door was torn out, and its pieces fell with the tumble of cursing,
striking, kicking men that rolled outside.
Si rushed forward with his squad, and in an instant they were knocking
right and left with their gun-barrels. So many fell on top of Shorty
that he was unable to rise and extricate himself.
Not exactly comprehending what was going on, but thinking that the time
for them to act had come, the four boys to whom Si had given the duty
of making the rush with the log to break down the door, came bolting up,
shouting to their comrades:
"Open out, there, for us."
[Illustration: "THE PRISONERS HAD TOO MUCH SOLICITUDE ABOUT THEIR
GARMENTS TO THINK OF ANYTHING ELSE." 185]
Their battering-ram cleaned off the rest of those still pommeling
Shorty, and drove back those who were swarming in the door.
Shorty sprang up and gave a rib-breaking kick to the prostrate Eph
Glick.
The crowd inside at first recoiled at the sight of the soldiers, but,
frightened for his own safety, Billings shouted, as he sheltered himself
behind the altar:
"Don't give way, men. There's only a few o' them. Draw your revolvers
and shoot down the scum. Drive 'em away."
A score of shots were fired in obedience, but Si, making his voice ring
above the noise, called out:
"Stop that firing, or I'll kill every man in the house. If there's
another shot fired we'll open on you and keep it up till you're every
one dead. Surrender at once!"
"Go at 'em with the bayonet, Si," yelled Shorty. "I'm goin' around to
ketch old Billings. He's in there, and'll try to sneak out the back
way."
As Shorty ran around the corner he came face-to-face with a stalwart
Irishman, one of the pluckiest of the squad brought from Jeffersonville.
His face was drawn and white with fright, and he fumbled at his beads.
"O, Corpril," he said, with chattering teeth, "Oi've jist sane the very
divil himself, so Oi have. Oi started to run up t' the house whin the
ruction begun, when suddintly the ground opened up at me very fate, an'
out kim a ghost, tin fate hoigh, wid oyes av foire, and brathing flames,
an' he shtarted for me, an' oi--"
"What damned nonsense is this, O'Brien?" asked Shorty angrily. "Are you
drunk, or jest naturally addled? Come along with me and we'll--"
"Not for a thousand loives," groaned the Irishman. "Howly saints, fwhat
is old Clootie after me for? Is it for atin' that little taste o' ham
last Friday? Holy Mary, save me; there he is again!"
"Where, you flannel-mouthed Mick?" asked Shorty savagely. "Where do you
see the devil?"
"There! There! That white thing. Don't you say it yersilf?" groaned the
Irishman, dropping on his knees, and calling on all the saints.
"That white thing. That's only a sycamore stump, you superstitious
bog-trotter," said Shorty, with angry contempt, as he bent his eyes on
the white object. Then he added in the next breath:
"But blamed if that stump ain't walkin' off. Funny stump."
He gave a leap forward for closer investigation. At the crash of his
footsteps the stump actually turned around and gave a sepulchral groan.
Then, seeing that it was not a soldier pursuing, a very natural human
voice proceeded from it.
"Is that you, Brother Welch? I thought at first it was a soldier. I
motioned you when the trouble first begun to follow me through the
underground passage. There was enough others there to make the fight,
and it'd never do for us to be taken by the Lincolnites. We're too
valuable to the cause just now, and, then, if the Lincolnites get hold
of me they'll certainly make me a martyr. Come right over this way. We
kin strike a path near here that'll take us right out."
"Great Jehosephat," said Shorty, "if it ain't old Billings, masqueradin'
in his Sons o' Malty rig."
He made another leap or two, clapped his hand on Billings's shoulder,
and shoved the muzzle of his revolver against the mask and demanded:
"Halt and surrender, you barrel-headed, splayfooted son of a sardine.
Come along with me, or I'll blow that whole earthquake rig offen you."
Shorty marched his prisoner back to the house, and as he neared it saw
by the light of a fire O'Brien, who had apparently recovered from his
fright, for he was having a lively bout with a large young fellow who
was trying to make his escape. It seemed an even thing for a minute or
two, but the Irishman finally downed his antagonist by a heavy blow with
his massive fist.
"Here, O'Brien," said Shorty, "I've ketched your devil and brung him
back to you. When a boss shies at anything the best way's to lead him
square up to it and let him smell it. So I want you to take charge o'
this prisoner and hold him safe till the scrimmage is over."
O'Brien looked at the figure with rage and disgust. He gave Billings a
savage clout with his open hand, saying:
"Ye imp o' the divil--ye unblest scab of an odmahoun. Oi'll brake ivery
bone av yer body for goin' around by noights in thim wake-duds, scaring
daysint folks out av their siven sinses."
The fighting had been quite a severe tussle for the soldiers. There had
not been much shooting, but a great deal of clubbing with gun-barrels
and sticks, which left a good many bloody heads and aching arms and
shoulders. About half of those in the meeting had succeeded in getting
away, but this still left some 75 prisoners in the hands of Lieut.
Bigelow, and he was delighted with his success.
It was decided to hold all the prisoners in the lodge until morning, and
two of the boys who had gotten pretty badly banged about the head were
sent back to the railroad to relieve and assist the guard left there.
"I find about 10 or 15 birds in the flock," said the Deputy Provost,
who was also Deputy Sheriff, when they looked over the prisoners in the
morning, "that we have warrants and complaints for, for everything from
plain assault and battery to horse-stealing. It would save the military
much trouble and serve the ends of justice better if we could send
them over to the County seat and put them in jail, where the civil
authorities could get a whack at them. I'd go there myself if I could
walk, but this bullet in my shin disables me."
"I'd like to do it," answered Lieut. Bigelow, "but I haven't the guard
to spare. So many of my men got disabled that I won't have more than
enough to guard the cars on the way back and keep these whelps from
jumping the train or being rescued by their friends when we stop at the
stations. The news of this affair is all over the country by this time,
and their friends will all be out."
"How fur is it to the County seat?" asked Shorty.
"About 15 miles," answered the Deputy Provost.
"Me and Si Klegg'll march 'em over there, and obligate ourselves not to
lose a rooster of 'em," said Shorty.
"That'll be a pretty big contract," said the Lieutenant doubtfully.
"All right. We're big enough for it. We'll take every one of 'em in if
we have to haul some of 'em feet foremost in a wagon."
"It'll be a great help in many ways," considered Lieut. Bigelow. "The
crowd'll be looking for us at the stations and not think of these
others. Those are two very solid men, and will do just what they
promise. I think I'll let them try it. It would be well for you to tell
those men that any monkey business with them will be unhealthy. They'd
better trust to getting away from the grand jury than from them."
But as the Deputy Provost went over them more carefully he found more
that were "wanted" by the civil authorities, and presently had selected
25 very evil-looking fellows, whose arrest would have been justified on
general appearances.
"Haint we bit off more'n we kin chaw. Shorty?" asked Si, as he looked
over the increasing gang. "Hadn't we better ask for some help?"
"Not a bit of it," answered Shorty, confidently. "That'll look like
weakenin' to the Lieutenant and the Provo. We kin manage this gang, or
we'll leave 'em dead in the brush."
"All right," assented Si, who had as little taste as his partner for
seeming to weaken. "Here goes for a fight or a foot-race."
While the Deputy was making out a list of the men and writing a note
to the Sheriff, Shorty went through the gang and searched each man for
arms. Then he took out his knife and carefully cut the suspender buttons
from every one of their pantaloons.
"Now we've got 'em, Si," he said gleefully, as he returned to his
partner's side, with his hand full of buttons. "They'll have to use
both hands to hold their britches on, so they kin neither run nor fight.
They'll be as peaceable as lambs."
"Shorty," said Si, in tones of fervent admiration, "I wuz afeared that
crack you got on your head softened your brains. But now I see it made
you brighter'n ever. You'll be wearin' a General's stars before this war
is over."
"Bob Ramsey was a-blowin' about knowin' how to handle men," answered
Shorty. "I'm just goin' to bring him over here and show him this trick
that he never dreamed of."
After he had gloated over Sergeant Ramsey, Shorty got his men into
the road ready to start. Si placed himself in front of the squad and
deliberately loaded his musket in their sight. Shorty took his place in
the rear, and gave out:
"Now, you roosters, you see I've two revolvers, and I'm a dead shot with
either hand. I'm good for 12 of you at the first jump and my partner kin
'tend to the rest. Now, if I see a man so much as make a motion toward
the side o' the road I'll drop him. Give the command. Sergeant Klegg."
"Forward--march!" ordered Si.
It was as Shorty predicted. The prisoners had entirely too much
solicitude about their garments to think of anything else, and the march
was made without incident. Late in the afternoon they reached the County
seat, and marched directly for the public square, in which the jail was
situated. There were a few people on the streets, who gathered on the
sidewalks to watch the queer procession. Shorty, with both hands on his
revolvers, had his eyes fixed on the squad, apprehensive of an attempt
to bolt and mix with the crowd. He looked neither to the right nor the
left, but was conscious that they were passing a corner on which stood
some ladies. Then he heard a voice which set his heart to throbbing call
out:
"Hello, Si Klegg! Si Klegg! Look this way. Where'd you come from?"
"Great Jehosephat! Maria!" said Shorty to himself. But he dared not take
his eyes a moment from the squad to look toward her.