FREEDMAN.
"WHAT is yer a-gwine tub do wid me, mas'r?" asked the negro, with a look
and an attitude curiously like a forlorn stray dog which had at last
found an owner and protector.
"Wish to gracious I knowed," answered the Deacon, knitting his brows in
thought. "I don't know as I've anything to do with you. I've about as
much idee what to do with you as I would with a whale in the Wabash
River. I'm neither John Brown nor a colonization society. I've about as
much use for a nigger, free or slave, as a frog has for a tail. You're
free now that's all there is of it. Nobody's got nothin' to do with you.
You've got to do with yourself that's all. You're your own master. You
go your way and let other folks go theirs."
In the simplicity of his heart the Deacon thought he had covered the
whole ground. What more could the man want, who had youth, health and
strength, than perfect liberty to go where he pleased and strive for
what he wanted?
The negro looked dazed and perplexed.
"Isn't yo' a-gwine tuh take me wid yo', mas'r?" he asked.
"Take you with me!" repeated the Deacon in253 astonishment and some
petulance. "Certainly not. I don't want you. And you mustn't call me
master. You mustn't call any man master. You're no longer a slave.
You're your own master. You're free; don't you understand?"
"But whah'm I tuh go?" reiterated the negro hopelessly.
"Go where you please," repeated the Deacon with impatience. "The whole
world's open to you. Go to the next County; go to Kaintucky, Injianny,
Ohio, Illinoy, Kamskatky, New Guiney, Jericho, or Polkinhorn's tanyard
if you like."
"Afo' God, I don't know what tuh do, or wha tuh go," said the negro
despairingly. "If yo' leab me here, I know dat ole mas'r 'll fin' me an'
done kill me daid."
"Niggers is like mules," remarked Groundhog savagely. "They only know
two places in the whole world: their master's place and somewhere else.
They want to run away from their master, but they hain't nary idee whar
to go when they run away. A hoss has more sense 'n either a nigger or a
mule. When he lights out he's got some idee o' where he wants t' go. I
tell you; jest give that nigger to me. I know what to do with him. I
know a man that'll give me $100 for him, and I'll whack up fair and
square with you."
"Shut up, you mullet-headed mule-whacker," said the Deacon irritably.
"You hain't got sense enough to take care o' mules right, let alone a
man. I wouldn't trust you an hour with the poorest team on my place.
I'll take care o' this man myself, at least, until I kin have a talk
with the boys. Here, you nigger, what's your name?"254
"Dey call me Sam, mas'r," replied the negro.
"Well, we'll change that. You're a free man, and I'll give you another
name. I'm goin' to call you Abraham—Abraham Lincoln the grandest name in
the world to-day. For short I'll call you Abe. You must stop callin' me,
or anybody, master, I tell you. You just call be Mister Klegg."
"Mistuh what?" said the negro, puzzled.
"Well, jest call me boss. Now, Abe, climb up into the wagon here, and
come along with me."255
"He can't git into no wagon o' mine," said the teamster surlily.
"Government wagons ain't no passenger coaches for runaway niggers. I
didn't hire to haul niggers on pleasure excursions. That ain't no part
of a white man's bizniss. Let him walk alongside."
"You dumbed citizen," said the Deacon angrily. He had been in camp long
enough to catch the feeling of the men toward the Quartermaster's
civilian employees. "This man shall ride in this wagon along side o' me,
and you'll drive us into camp, or I'll find out the reason why. Now jest
gether up your lines and start."
"I won't take no slack from no old Wabash hayseed like you," responded
the teamster cordially. "You can't boss me. You hain't no right. You
can't ring me in to help you steal niggers, unless you divide with me.
You come out here in the road and I'll punch that old sorrel-top head o'
your'n."
And the teamster pranced out and brandished his blacksnake whip
menacingly.
It had been many years since anybody on the Wabash had dared Deacon
Klegg to a match in fisticuffs. The memory of some youthful performances
of his had secured him respectful immunity. His last affair had been a
severe suppression of a noted bully who attempted to "crowd the
mourners" at a camp-meeting for the good order of which the Deacon felt
himself somewhat responsible. It took the bully six months to get over
it, and he went to the mourner's bench himself at the next revival.
The Deacon looked at the gesticulating teamster a minute, and the
dormant impulse of his youth256 stirred again within him. He laid his
gun down and calmly slid from the fodder to the ground. He pulled off
his coat and hat, and laid them on the wagon. He took the quid of
tobacco from his mouth, carefully selected a place for it on the edge of
the wagon-bed, laid it there on a piece of corn-husk, and walked toward
the teamster, rolling up his sleeves.
The effect upon the monarch of the mules was immediate and marked. He
stopped prancing around, and began to look alarmed.
"Now, don't you hit me," he yelled. "I'm the driver o' this team, and in
Gov'ment employ. If you hit me I'll have you courtmartialed."
Do You Hear? Git on Your Mule at Onct.'
"I'm not goin' to hit you," said the Deacon, raising a fist as big as a
small ham, "if you behave yourself. I want you to shut your mouth, and
git on your mule and start for camp. If you don't 'tend to your bizness,
or give me any more o' your sass, I'll pound the melt out o' you. D' you
hear? Git on your mule at onct."
frontispiecee (114K)
The teamster did as he was bid, and drove on till they came up to where
the boys were sitting on a fence-corner waiting for them.
Si had a brace of chickens tied together by the feet, and Shorty a crock
of honey in the comb, with a bag of saleratus biscuits and one of
cornmeal, and a number of strings of dried apples.
"Bin waitin' for you a good while, Pap. What kep' you so long? Break-
down?" said Si.
"No; had to stop and argy the fugitive slave law with a Southern
gentleman, and then debate niggers' civil rights with the teamster,"
said the Deacon. Then he told them the story. "Here's the257 darky," he
said, as he concluded. "Seems to be a purty fair sort of a farm-hand, if
he has sense enough to come in when it rains, which I misdoubt. What are
we goin' to do with him?"
"Do with him?" said Shorty. "Do everything with him. Take him into camp
first. Hire him out to the Quartermaster. Let him wait on the Captain.
Take him back home with you to help on the farm while Si's away.
Jehosephat, a big buck like that's a mighty handy thing to have about
the house. You kin learn him more tricks in a week than he'd learn with
his owner in a lifetime. Say, boy, what's your name?"
"S s-s," the negro began to say, but he caught the Deacon's eye upon
him, and responded promptly, "Abr'm Lincoln."
"I believe the nigger kin be taught," thought the Deacon. "Probably
this's some more o' Providence's workin's. Mebbe He brung this about
jest to give me my share o' the work o' raisin' the fallen race."
"Boys," said he, "I'm glad you've got something good to eat there. Them
chickens seem tol'ble young and fat. I hope you came by 'em honestly."
"Well, Pap," chuckled Si, "I don't know as a man who's been runnin'
around for another man's nigger, and got him, is jest in shape to ask
questions how other men got chickens and things; but I'll relieve your
mind by sayin' that we came honestly by 'em."
"Yes; thought it would be interestin' to try that way once, for a
change," said Shorty. "Besides, it wuz too near camp for any
hornswogglin'. These fellers right around camp are gettin' on to the
names258 o' the regiments. They're learnin' to notice 200th Ind. on our
caps, and' foller you right into camp, and go up to the Colonel. We're
layin' altogether too long in one place. The Army o' the Cumberland
oughter move."
"We paid full value, C. O. D.," added Si, "and not in Drake's Plantation
Bitters labels nor in busted Kalamazoo bank notes, neither. I think
fellers that pass patent-medicine labels and business-college
advertisements on these folks for money, oughter to be tied up by the
thumbs. It's mean."
"That's what I say, too," added Shorty, with virtuous indignation.
"'Specially when you kin git the best kind o' Confederit money from
Cincinnati for two cents on the dollar. I always lay in enough o' that
to do my tradin' with."
"What's that? What's that?" gasped the Deacon. "Passin' Confederate
money that you buy in Cincinnati at two cents on the dollar? Why, that's
counterfeitin'."
"That's drawin' it a little too fine," said Shorty argumentatively.
"These flabbergasted fools won't take greenbacks. I offered the woman
to-day some, and she said she wouldn't be found dead with 'em. She
wanted Confedrit money. You may call it counterfeitin', but the whole
Southern Confederacy is counterfeit, from its President down to the
lowest Corporil. A dollar or two more or less won't make no difference.
This feller at Cincinnati has got just as much right to print notes as
they have in Richmond."
"He prints 'em on better paper, his pictures are better, and he sells
his notes much cheaper, and I259 don't see why I shouldn't buy o' him
rather than o' them. I believe in patronizin' home industry."
"Si," said his father, in horrified tones, "I hope you hain't bin
passin' none o' the Cincinnati Confederate money on these people."
"I hope not, Pap. But then, you know, I ain't no bank-note detector. I
can't tell the Cincinnati kind from the Richmond kind, and I never try
very hard. All Confedrt money's alike to me, and I guess in the end
it'll be to them. Both kinds say they'll be paid six months after the
conclusion of peace be twixt the Confederate States and the United
States, and I guess one stands jest as good show as the other. The woman
asked me $2 apiece for these chickens, and I paid her in the Confedrit
money I happened to have in my pocket. I didn't notice whether it wuz
printed in Cincinnati or Richmond. I got it from one o' the boys playin'
p——. I mean he paid it to see me." He gave Shorty a furtive kick and
whispered: "Come mighty nigh givin' my self away that time."
There was a long hill just before they came in sight of the entrance to
the camp, and they got out and helped the mules up. They walked on ahead
until they came to the top. The Deacon looked at the entrance, and said:
"I declare, if there isn't that owner o' this nigger waitin' for us."
"That so?" said Si, turning his eyes in that direction. "And he's got
some officers with him. There's some officers jest mean enough to help
these rebels ketch their niggers. I'd like to knock their addled heads
off."260
"Jest wait till we git discharged, Si, and then we kin lick 'em as much
as we want to," said Shorty. "But we've got to do somethin' now. They
can't see us yit. Deacon, jest take yer nigger and cut down around
through the crick there until you come to the picket-line. Then wait. Me
and Si'll go on in, and come around and find you."
"All right," assented the Deacon, who was falling into camp ways with
remarkable facility. "But you've got to look out for that teamster. He's
meaner'n dog-fennel. He'll tell everything."
"Good point," said Si. "We must 'tend to him. See here, Groundhog," he
continued, walking back to the teamster; "you don't know nothin' about
that old man and nigger that got on your wagon. They slipped off into
the woods when you wuzn't lookin', while you wuz busy with your mules,
and you don't know whether they went to the right or to the left, up the
road or down it."
"Do you s'pose I'm goin' to help steal a nigger, and then lie about it
to the officers, for you galoots, and all for nothin'?" said the
teamster. "You are blamed fools, that's all I've got to say."
"Look here, Groundhog," said Shorty, coming up close, with a portentious
doubled fist. "You know me, and you know Si. You know that either of us
can maul the head off you in a minute, whenever we've a mind to, and
we're likely any time to have a mind to. We're a durned sight nearer you
all the time than any o' the officers, and you can't git away from us,
though you may from them. They may buck and gag you, as they ought to,
'bout every day, but that won't be nothin' to the welting one of us
'll261 give you. Now, you tell that story, jest as Si said, and stick to
it, or you won't have a whole bone in your carcass by the end o' the
week."
When they came up to the entrance there indeed stood the owner of
Abraham Lincoln, holding his horse, and by him stood the Lieutenant-
Colonel of the 200th Ind., a big, burly man, who had been a drover and
an influential politician before he got his commission, and had a high
reputation at home as a rough-and-tumble fighter. He had not added to
his bellicose fame since entering the field, because for some mysterious
reason he had been absent every time the regiment went into a fight, or
was likely to. Consequently he was all the more blustering and
domineering in camp, in spite of the frequent repressions he got from
the modest, quiet little Colonel.
"Old Blowhard Billings is there," said Si. "Now we'll have a gust o'
wind."
"Didn't know he was in camp," said Shorty. "I've a notion to bust a cap
and scare him back to Nashville agin. Don't let him bluff you, Si, even
if he is the Lieutenant-Colonel."
They rode up to the entrance looking as innocent and placid as if
bringing in a load from the fields on the Wabash.
"Corporal Klegg," said the Lieutenant-Colonel sternly, "bring out that
nigger from the wagon."
"We ain't got no nigger in the wagon, Colonel," said Si, with an
expression of surprise.
"Come, now, don't fool with me, sir, or I'll make you very sorry for it.
I'm no man to be trifled with, sir. If you ain't got a nigger in the
wagon, what 've you done with him."262
"We ain't done nothin' with him, Colonel," persisted Si. "I hain't had
nothin' to do with no nigger since we started out this mornin'; hain't
spoken to one. Sometimes niggers jump on our wagons, ride a little ways,
and then jump off agin. I can't keep track of 'em. I generally make 'em
git off when I notice 'em."
"Corporal Klegg, you're lyin' to me," said the Lieutenant-Colonel
roughly. "I'll settle with you directly. Groundhog, have you got a
nigger in the wagon?"
"No, sir," replied the teamster.
"Didn't you have' one?"
Groundhog looked up and caught Shorty's eye fixed unflinchingly on him.
"I b'lieve that one did git on," he stammered, "but he got off agin
d'rectly. I didn't notice much about him. My mules wuz very bothersome
all the time. They're the durndest meanest mules that ever a man tried
to drive. That there off-swing mule'd—"
"We don't want to hear nothin' about your mules. We'll look in the wagon
ourselves."
The search developed nothing. The Lieutenant-Colonel came back to Si,
angrier than ever.
"Look here, Klegg, you're foolin' me, an' I won't stand it. I'll have
the truth out o' you if I have to kill you. Understand?"
There was a dangerous gleam in Si's and Shorty's eyes, but they kept
their lips tightly closed.
"This gentleman here," continued the Lieutenant-Colonel, "says, and I
believe his story, against all that you may say, that the men with this
wagon, which he's bin watchin' all along, took his nigger263 away from
him and drove him off with insults and curses. They threatened his life.
He says he can't reckonize either of you, and likely you have disguised
yourselves. But he reckonizes the wagon and the teamster, and is willin'
to swear to 'em. I know he's tellin' the truth, because I know you
fellers. You're impudent and sassy. You've bin among them that's
hollered at me. You've bin stealin' other things besides niggers to-day,
and have 'em in your possession. You're loaded down with things you've
stolen from houses. I won't command a regiment of nigger-thieves. I
won't have nigger-thieves in my regiment. If I've got any in my regiment
I'll break 'em of it, or I'll break their infernal necks. I believe you
fellers got away with that nigger, and I'll tie you up by the thumbs
till I get the truth out o' you. Sergeant o' the guard, take charge o'
these men, and bring 'em along. Take that stuff that they've stolen away
from them and send it to my tent."
Si and Shorty got very white about the mouth, but Si merely said, as
they handed their guns to the guard:
"Colonel, you may tie us up till doomsday, but you'll git no help out of
us to ketch runaway niggers and put 'em back in slavery."
"Shut up, you scalawag," roared the Lieutenant-Colonel. "If I hear
another word out o' you I'll buck-and-gag you."
They marched to Regimental Headquarters and halted, and the Lieutenant-
Colonel renewed his browbeating, Si and Shorty continued obstinate, and
the Lieutenant-Colonel, getting angrier every minute,264 ordered them
tied up by the thumbs. While the Sergeant of the Guard, who was a friend
of the boys, and had little heart for the work, was dallying with his
preparations, the Colonel himself appeared on the scene.
"Ah, Colonel, you've got back, have you?" said the Lieutenant-Colonel,
little pleased at the interruption. "I've just caught two of the men in
a little job o' nigger-stealin', and I was about to learn them265 a
lesson which will break them of the habit. With your consent I'll go on
with the work."
"Nigger-stealing?" said the Colonel quietly. "You mean helping a slave
to get away? Did you learn whether the owner was a loyal man?"
"I don't know as that makes any difference," replied 'the Lieutenant-
Colonel surlily. "As a matter of fact, I believe he said he had two sons
in the rebel army."
'i'll Invite Your Attention to the Emancipation Proclamation 264 '
"Well, Colonel," said the other, "I'll invite your attention to the
Emancipation Proclamation of President Lincoln, and the orders from the
War Department, which prohibit the return of slaves to disloyal owners,
and make it the duty of officers and men to assist in their escape. You
had better dismiss the men to their quarters."
"If that's the case if I don't resign. I'm no
"Abolitionist. I didn't come into the army to free the niggers."
"I shall take pleasure in forwarding your resignation with a
recommendation of its acceptance for the good of the service," said the
Colonel calmly.
"Men, go to your quarters."
"Altogether, Pap, I consider this a mighty good day's work," remarked Si
that evening after supper, as they sat around the fire smoking, with
Abraham Lincoln snoring vigorously on the floor, in his first night's
sleep as a free man.