A CERTIFICATE OF CHARACTER.
Three or four days after the morning of Jake Elliott's release, Sam
led his little company into Camp Jackson and reported their arrival.
As Sam had anticipated, General Jackson decided at once that the boys
could become useful to him only by volunteering in some of the
companies already organized, and Sam began to look about for a company
in which he and Tom would be acceptable. The other boys were of course
free to choose for themselves, and Sam declined to act for them in the
matter. As for Joe the black boy, he knew how to make himself useful
in any command, as a servant, and he was resolved to follow Sam's
fortunes, wherever they might lead.
"You see Mas' Sam," he said, "you'n Mas' Tommy might git yer selves
into some sort o' scrape or udder, an' then yer's sho' to need Joe to
git you out. Didn't Joe git you out 'n dat ar fix dar in de drifpile
more'n a yeah ago? Howsomever, 'taint becomin' to talk 'bout dat,
'cause your fathah he dun pay me fer dat dar job, he is. But you'll
need Joe any how, an' wha you goes Joe goes, an' dey aint no gettin
roun' dat ar fac, nohow yer kin fix it."
On the very morning of Sam's arrival, as he was beginning his search
for a suitable command in which to enlist, he met Tandy Walker, the
celebrated guide and scout, whose memory is still fondly cherished in
the southwest for his courage, his skill and his tireless
perseverance. Tandy was now limping along on a rude crutch, with one
of his feet bandaged up.
Sam greeted him heartily and asked, of course, about his hurt, which
Tandy explained as the result of "a wrestle he had had with an axe,"
meaning that he had cut his foot in chopping wood. He tarried but a
moment with Sam, excusing himself for his hurried departure on the
ground that he had been sent for by General Jackson. Having heard
Sam's story and plans Tandy limped on, and was soon ushered into
Jackson's inner apartment.
When the general saw him he exclaimed--
"What, you're not on the sick list are you, Walker?"
"Well no, not adzac'ly, giner'l, but I ain't adzac'ly a _walker_ now,
fur all that's my name."
"What's the matter?" asked Jackson.
"Nothin', only I've dun split my foot open with a axe, giner'l."
"That is very unfortunate," replied Jackson, "very unfortunate,
indeed."
"Yes, it aint adzac'ly what you might call _lucky_, giner'l."
"It certainly isn't!" said Jackson, a smile for a moment taking the
place of the look of vexation which his face wore; "and it isn't lucky
for me either, for I need you just now."
"I'm sorry, giner'l, if ther's any work to be done in my line, but it
can't be helped, you know."
"Of course not. The fact is Tandy, I want something done that I can't
easily find any body else to do. I'm satisfied now that the British
are at Pensacola and are arming Indians there, and that the
treacherous Spanish governor is harboring them on his _neutral_
territory. I have proof of that now. Look at that rifle there. That's
one of the guns they have given out to Indians, and a friendly Indian
brought it to me this morning. But you know the Indians, Walker; I
can't get anything definite out of them. I _must_ find out all about
this affair, and you're the only man I could trust with the task."
"I b'lieve that's jist about the way the land lays, giner'l," replied
Tandy, "but I'll tell you what it is; if ther' aint a _man_ here you
kin tie to fur that sort o' work, ther's a purty well grown boy
that'll do it up for you equal to me or anybody else, or my name aint
Tandy Walker, and that's what the old woman at home calls me."
A little further conversation revealed the fact that the boy alluded
to was none other than our friend Sam Hardwicke. General Jackson
hesitated, expressing some doubts of Sam's qualifications for so
delicate a task. He feared that so young a person might lack the
coolness and discretion necessary, and said so. To all of this Tandy
replied:--
"You'd trust the job to me, if I could walk, wouldn't you, giner'l?"
"Certainly; no other man would be half so good."
"Well then, giner'l, lem me tell you, that Sam Hardwicke is Tandy
Walker, spun harder an' finer, made out'n better wool, doubled an'
twisted, and _mighty keerfully waxed_ into the bargain. He's a smart
one, if there ever was one. He's edicated too, an' knows books like a
school teacher. He's the sharpest feller in the woods I ever seed, an'
he's got jist a little the keenest scent for the right thing to do in
a tight place that you ever seed in man or boy. Better'n all, he never
loses that cool head o' his'n no matter what happens."
"That is a hearty recommendation, certainly," said the general.
"Suppose you send young Hardwicke to me; of course nothing must be
said of all this."
"Certainly giner'l. Nobody ever gits any news out'n my talk." And with
that Tandy made his awkward bow, his awkwarder salute, and limped
away.