CHAPTER XI.
RODNEY MAKES A TRADE.
"You are a pretty partisan, you are," whispered Tom Percival, while theywere waiting for Mrs. Merrick to open the front-door. "Those men outsideare friends of yours, and yet you stand ready to fight them."
"I don't claim friendship with any cowardly bushwhacker," answeredRodney hotly. "I don't collogue [associate] with any such."
"Then you'll have to do one of two things," said Tom. "Go home and staythere, or else join the Confederate army. Nearly every man in Missouriis a bushwhacker. Now listen."
Tom did not follow his own suggestion, for when he heard the front doorcreak on its hinges, he laid down his revolver and covered his ears withhis hands. This made Rodney turn as white as a sheet and get upon hisfeet again, fully expecting to hear the roar of a shotgun, followed bythe clatter of buckshot in the hall; but instead of that, there came thecalm, even tones of Mrs. Merrick's voice inquiring:
"What is it?"
"If I had that woman's pluck I'd be a general before this thing isover," said Rodney, "I've always heard that a woman had more couragethan a man and now I know it."
"Listen," repeated Tom, who had by this time taken his hands down fromhis ears.
There was no immediate response, for the party at the gate had lookedfor somebody else to answer their hail. Presently the same muffled voiceinquired:
"Is Mr. Merrick to home?"
"He was a few minutes ago, but he is not in now," said his wife. "Haveyou any word to leave for him?"
"No, I don't reckon we have. We'll ketch--we'll see him some othertime."
"Who shall I say called?"
"It don't matter. We're friends of his'n who wanted to see him onbusiness. Goodnight."
"Good-night," replied Mrs. Merrick, as if her suspicions had not beenroused in the slightest degree; and then she shut the door and came backinto the kitchen. She was pale now and trembling; and Rodney made hasteto offer her a chair while Tom poured out a glass of water.
"I told you they wouldn't hurt her," he found opportunity to say toRodney. "But if Merrick had gone to the door he would have been full ofbuckshot now."
"They might as well shoot her as to scare her to death," replied Rodney."This is a terrible state of affairs."
"I believe you. And we haven't seen the beginning of it yet. What havethey got against your husband any way, Mrs. Merrick?"
The woman kept her eyes fastened upon Tom's face while she drank aportion of the water he had poured out for her, and then she handed backthe glass with the remark:
"Mr. Merrick is Union and so are you."
"How do you know that?" demanded Tom. "Has he told you my story?"
"He hasn't said a word; but I have been over to a neighbor's thisafternoon, and while I was there, I saw you and a roan horse go into ourcow-lot. A little while afterward old Swanson rode up and told us abouta Yankee horse-thief who was going through the country, trying to reachSpringfield. That shows how fast news travels these times. And thatisn't all I know," she added, nodding at Rodney. "You are as good aConfederate as I am."
"Then how does it come that I am colloguing with a Yankee horse-thief?"exclaimed Rodney, who wanted to learn how much the woman really knewabout him and his friend.
"That is something I do not pretend to understand," was the answer. "Butthere must be some sort of an arrangement between you, for one is ridingthe other's horse. Now perhaps you had better go. I will put up a bitefor you to eat during the night, and will try to get a breakfast to youin the morning. I shall have to let you out of a side door, for youwould be seen if you went out of this well-lighted room; and if I wereto put out the lamp, it would arouse the suspicious of any one who mayhappen to be on the watch."
"This reminds me of the days I have read of, when the women fought sideby side with their husbands and sons in the block-houses," thoughtRodney, as he shoved his revolver into his boot leg and waited for thelunch to be put up. "What a scout she would make."
Mrs. Merrick probably knew that the boys would not devote much time tosleeping that night, for the "bite" she put up for them was equal inquantity to the hearty supper they had just eaten. She was aware, too,that they would have to "lie out," and anxious to know if they had anyblankets to keep them warm. It might not be quite safe for them to builda camp fire, and consequently they would need plenty of covering. Therewas the lunch, and Tom needn't be so profuse in his thanks, for whileshe believed in fighting the Lincoln government, since it was bound toforce a war upon the South, she did not believe in starving Union boyson account of their principles. She hoped Tom would reach home insafety, and advised him when he got there to turn over a new leaf and gowith his State.
"Do you remember what that British colonel said to his commandingofficer, after he had visited General Marion in his camp and dined withhim on sweet potatoes?" inquired Rodney, after the two had been let outat the side door and were stealing along the fence toward the cow-stablewhere Mr. Merrick was patiently waiting for them. "The colonel said,'You can't conquer such people;' and he was so impressed with the factthat he threw up his commission and went home to England. That is what Isay to you, Tom Percival. The North can't conquer the South while wehave such women as Mrs. Merrick in it."
"Now listen at you," replied Tom. "The North doesn't want to conquer theSouth, and you don't show your usual common sense in hinting at such athing. The people--and when I say that, I mean the Union men both Northand South--say that you secessionists shall not break up thisgovernment; and if you persist in your efforts, you are going to getwhipped, as you ought to be. Hallo, Mr. Merrick," he added, stopping inthe door of the stable and trying to peer through the darkness. "Did youhear those gentlemen asking for you a while ago?"
"I was listening," replied the farmer, with a chuckle. "But Idisremembered the voice. The feller talked as though he was holding ahandkercher or something over his mouth. How many of them was there? Iseen three."
"We didn't see any, for Mrs. Merrick wouldn't let us go to the door,"replied Rodney. "She was the coolest one in the kitchen."
"She's got tol'able grit, Nance has," replied the farmer, and there wasjust a tinge of pride in his tones when he said it. "I may happen overt'other side the ridge some night, and then the tables will be turnedt'other way. Now, if you are ready, we'll make tracks for the swamp. Theway is clear. Thompson's men have give it up as a bad job and gonehome."
"Did they pass along the road?" exclaimed Rodney. "We never heardthem."
"I did, and seen 'em too. There was a right smart passel of 'em--more'nenough to have made pris'ners of all the Union fellers in the swamp, ifthey hadn't been afraid to face the rifles that them same Union men knowhow to shoot with tol'able sure aim."
"Why is it necessary for them to hide out?" asked Rodney. "What havethey done?"
"I don't rightly know as I can tell you," replied the farmer, in a tonewhich led the boy to believe that he could tell all about it if he feltso disposed. "But it seems that some high-up Secesh has disappeared andnobody don't know what's went with 'em; and some folks do say that themfellers in the swamp had a hand in their taking off. I dunno, kase Iwasn't thar."
So saying, Merrick led the horse from the stable and the boys followedwithout saying a word, for they were by no means sure that Thompson'smen had all gone away. They went through a wide field that had once beenplanted to corn, and when they had passed a gap in the fence by which itwas surrounded, they found themselves in the edge of a thick wood.
"I don't see how you ever found your way through here alone," saidRodney to his friend. "It is as dark as pitch."
"Oh, I wasn't alone. One of those Union men came with me as far as thisgap, and then I came on well enough," replied Tom. "It's a wonder thosehorsemen didn't discover me. I threw myself flat on the ground betweenthe old corn-rows, and saw them quite distinctly. Mr. Hobson said hewould wait here for me."
"And he has kept his word, although he began to think you we
re nevercoming back," replied a voice from the darkness. "Is this the friend whohelped you last night? I can just make out that there are three ofyou."
If it had been daylight there is no telling how Rodney Gray would havepassed through the ordeal of shaking hands with a Union man who wassuspected of being concerned in the "taking off" of some prominentsecessionists in his settlement. It was a large, muscular hand thatgrasped his own, and Rodney knew that there was a big man behind it. Heknew, too, that Mr. Hobson (that was the name by which the stranger wasintroduced) had no reason for supposing that he was anything but whatTom Percival represented him to be--a Union boy who had run away fromhome and come up North because his relatives were all secessionists andopposed to his Union principles. That was about the story Tom Percivalhad told Merrick, and it was reasonable to suppose that he had told Mr.Hobson and his fellow fugitives the same. Indeed he became sure of it amoment later, for Mr. Hobson said, while he continued to hold fast toRodney's hand and shake it:
"So it seems that we Missourians are not the only ones who have to standpersecution because we believe in upholding the Stars and Stripes. Ihave heard something of your history from our young friend Percival, andassure you that I sympathize with you deeply. I want to compliment youon the courage and skill you showed in helping him escape from thoseguerrillas last night."
"It is hardly worth speaking of," answered Rodney, as soon as he couldcollect his wits. "Tom would have done the same for me."
"I am sure he would, but it was none the less a brave act on your part.Now let us go to camp. If I don't get back pretty soon my friends willwonder what has become of me. By the way, didn't I hear a body of menriding along the road going west, a short time since?"
Merrick replied that they were some of Thompson's men, who probablythought it safer to keep to the big road than it would be to attempt tocapture half a dozen well-armed Union men in a dark swamp. Hobson andhis party were not likely to be molested, but still Merrick thought itwould be best for them to remain concealed a while longer, and dependupon him for their provisions and news. Merrick did not forget to tellof the three men who had stopped at his gate and asked to see him "onbusiness."
"I reckon I might as well leave you boys here," he added, placing thebridle in Rodney's hand.
"And what shall Tom and I do in the morning?" inquired the latter. "Weought to make an early start, and do you think it would be safe for usto keep together?"
"Not by no means it wouldn't," replied Merrick, quickly. "Unless you caninduce somebody in Mr. Hobson's party to give you a trade for that roancolt. You mustn't try to ride him to Springfield. You ought to get ridof him as soon as you can."
"Let's go to camp," repeated Mr. Hobson. "We can talk the matter overafter we get there. And in the meantime, you boys had better make upyour minds to stay with us until after Merrick brings us a breakfast.Perhaps he will know by that time whether or not it will be safe for youto continue your journey."
Going to camp and spending the night with half a dozen strangers whoheld opinions that were so very different from his own, and who might"catch him up" when he wasn't looking for it, was what Rodney Graydreaded. He didn't like the idea of passing himself off for a Union boywhen he wasn't, and was afraid he might let fall some expression thatwould betray him. That would be most unfortunate, for it would get TomPercival into trouble as well as himself. But there was no help for it,and so he brought up the rear leading the horse, while Mr. Hobson andTom led the way along a blind path toward the camp. Presently the formerbegan whistling at intervals, and when at length an answer came from thedepths of the forest, Rodney knew that the camp was close at hand. Tenminutes later he had been introduced to Mr. Hobson's companions, and waslistening in a dazed sort of way to their words of greeting andsympathy. They knew just how he felt, they said, for they had beenobliged to leave home themselves on account of their opinions, and anindorsement from Tom Percival, with whose uncle Justus they were wellacquainted, they assured him would bring all the aid and comfort theycould give him.
"Tom always could tell a slick story--he was noted for that at school,"thought Rodney, as he motioned to his friend to set out the lunch thatMrs. Merrick had put up for them. "And if he hasn't shut up the eyes ofthese Union men I don't want a cent. If I hear this story many moretimes I shall begin to believe I am Union without knowing it, and that Ileft home because I had to."
As the refugees never once suspected that Rodney was acting a part, andthat Tom Percival had deliberately deceived them, they asked no leadingquestions, and the visitor was very thankful for that. Of course theywere anxious to know how matters stood in Louisiana, and Rodney couldtruthfully say that the Union men were so very careful to keep theiropinions to themselves that they were known only to their most trustedfriends. He had heard that there were a good many of them in and aroundMooreville, but had never had the luck to meet any. If a man in his partof the State had dared to hint that he was opposed to secession, hewould have stood a fine chance of being mobbed. Rodney was glad when thelunch had been eaten, the last pipe smoked and the refugees stretchedthemselves on their beds of boughs with their saddles for pillows, anddrew their blankets over them. Then he was at liberty to think over thesituation but denied the privilege of talking to Tom; and that was whathe most desired. While he was wondering what his next adventure wasgoing to be he fell asleep.
"That's Merrick's signal," were the next words he heard.
It didn't seem to Rodney that he had been asleep five minutes, but whenhe opened his eyes he found that it was just getting daylight, and thatall the refugees were sitting up on their blankets stretching their armsand yawning; while, faint and far off but quite distinct, he heard afamiliar voice shouting:
"Pig-gee! Pig-gii! Pig-goo!"
"That's breakfast," said Mr. Hobson. "Now, while we are waiting for it,I suggest that we take a look at that roan colt and make up our mindswhat we are going to do with him."
"That's business," said Rodney. "I don't like to let him go, for he wasthe last thing my father gave me."
"Then your father must be for the Union," remarked one of the refugees.
"He thinks just as I do," answered Rodney; and then he recollected thathe had never expressed an opinion. He had not been asked, for TomPercival had done it for him. He followed the men to the place where thehorses had been picketed, and listened while they talked and tried tomake up their minds whether it would be prudent to give him a trade.There was not the slightest difference of opinion regarding the goodqualities of the roan colt, for they could be seen at a glance; but herewas where the trouble came in: They hoped to return to their homes at nodistant day, and what would their neighbors say to them when a horsethat was said to have been stolen was seen in their possession? It wasMr. Westall's argument over again.
"I would just as soon take Percival's horse to the settlement as to goback there with this roan," said Mr. Hobson. "One is as dangerous to usas the other. You see, everybody, Union as well as Secesh, is down on ahorse-thief, and the politics of the man who is caught with this horsein his keeping will not save him. After all I don't know that I can bein a much worse mess than I am now, and if you like, I will give you myhorse for him. It's a one-sided trade I admit, the roan is worth two ofmine, but see the risk I shall run?"
"I'll do it," said Rodney quickly. "I shall be glad to see the last ofthat colt, and hope he will not be the means of getting you intodifficulty. Now do you think Tom and I can ride together?"
"I don't see why you can't, and I think it would be a good thing foryou, because Percival has a general knowledge of the roads ahead, andknows a few people who can be trusted."
This matter having been settled to the satisfaction of both the boys,one of the refugees set up a peculiar whistle to let Merrick know thatthe road to their camp was clear, and twenty minutes later he came intosight, followed by a darkey. The latter was mounted on a mule andcarried a heavy basket on each arm. The first question that was asked,"Have you seen or heard anything more of Thompson's
men?" was answeredin the negative on both sides, and then the refugees and their guestswere ready for breakfast. Merrick seemed relieved to know that the boyshad succeeded in getting the roan colt off their hands, and told themthat he had brought the darkey along to act as their guide until theywere beyond the limits of his settlement.
"After you went away last night, Nance said that there are some folksabout here who know I am harboring two chaps that I have took some painsto keep out of sight, and so I thought you had best keep to the breshtill you had got past them peoples' houses," said he; but there was onething his wife did not tell him, and that was that one of the two boyshe was harboring was as good a Confederate as any of the men who hadridden along the road. That was a matter she kept to herself.
Breakfast being over the only thing there was to detain the boys was tosaddle their horses. That did not take many minutes, and then they wereready for the new dangers that lay along the road ahead of them. Afterthanking Mr. Merrick for his kindness, not forgetting to send their bestregards to his wife, they shook hands with the refugees and told theirsable guide to go on.
"I never saw things quite so badly mixed up as they are in thiscountry," said Rodney, when the camp and its occupants had been left outof sight. "And neither did I dream that you were such an expertstory-teller. Suppose I had said or done something to arouse thesuspicions of the men we have just left; where would we be now?"
"What else could I do?" demanded Tom. "You didn't expect me to say outloud that you are a Confederate on your way to join a man who is gettingready to fight against the government of the United States. You knew Iwouldn't do that, and so I had to put you in a false position. It isn'tmy fault. You ought to have had sense enough to stay at home."
"I can see it now," replied Rodney. "But what are we to do from thistime on?"
"I am sure I don't know. We'll be Union all over for the next twentymiles or so, and then perhaps you can show yourself in your true colorswhile I do the deceiving; but you must be careful and not speak my name.I declare I had no idea that the Percivals were so well known throughthis neck of the woods. But I'll tell you what I honestly believe:Price's cavalry is scouting all through the central and southern partsof the State, shooting Union men and picking up recruits, and as soon aswe begin to hear of them, I think you had better desert me and jointhem; that is, unless you have come to your senses, and made up yourmind that you had better cast your lot with the loyal people of thenation."
"Don't you know any better than to talk to me in that style?" exclaimedRodney. "Do you imagine that I have come up here just to have the fun ofgoing back on my principles?"
"No; I don't suppose you have, but I think you ought to before it is toolate. However, let politics go. Have you heard from any of theHarrington boys since we left school? Where is your cousin Marcy?"
This was a more agreeable topic than the one they had been discussing,but Rodney had little information to impart. He had written to Marcy buthad received no reply, and the reader knows the reason why. It wasbecause Marcy dare not write and tell Rodney how matters stood with him,for fear that the letter might be stopped by some of his Secessionneighbors,--Captain Beardsley, for instance,--who would use it againsthim. He told of the letters he had received from Dixon, Billings andDick Graham, and they were all in the army, or going as soon as theycould get there. He hadn't heard from any other Barrington fellow, buthe believed that Tom Percival was the one black sheep in the flock--thatthe others had gone with their States.
"I don't believe it," said Tom, with decided emphasis. "I am not theonly Union fellow there was in the academy, by a long shot, and I knowthat those who opposed secession didn't do it to hear themselves talk.Your cousin Marcy didn't go with his State, and there are others likehim scattered all over the country."
"Say," exclaimed Rodney, bending forward in his saddle and speaking justloud enough for Tom, who was riding in advance, to catch his words. "Doyou believe Merrick's darkey can be depended on?"
"Of course," answered Tom. "Why not? What makes you ask the question?"
"I don't like the way he has of looking over his shoulder and listeningto our conversation. You are all right, of course, but I am afraid Ihave said too much. I was so glad to get a chance to talk to you that Inever thought of him."
"Didn't you once assure your cousin Marcy that all the blacks in theSouth would go with their masters against the abolitionists?" inquiredTom.
"Yes, I believe I did, and I think so yet. I don't think we have adarkey on our place who would accept his freedom to-day if it wereoffered to him."
"There may not be one who would dare say so, because they know better;but give the best of them the chance and see how quickly he would skipover the border into abolition territory. If you think the darkies areloyal to their masters, what are you afraid of? According to your idea,if that darkey ahead betrays anybody, he ought to betray me, for I amUnion and he heard me tell his master so yesterday. But if you think hecan't be trusted to keep his mouth shut, we'll turn him to theright-about in short order."
"And lose the benefit of his knowledge?" said Rodney. "I wouldn't dothat. Let him stay as long as Merrick told him to, and in the mean timeI will talk as though I knew he would repeat every word I say."
This thing of being obliged to place a curb upon their tongues when theywanted to speak freely was annoying in the extreme; but it might havesaved them some trouble and anxiety if they had done it from the first.
Rodney The Partisan Page 11