Rodney The Partisan Part 18

Going to camp and spending the night with half a dozen strangers who held 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 Gray dreaded. He didn't like the idea of pa.s.sing himself off for a Union boy when he wasn't, and was afraid he might let fall some expression that would betray him. That would be most unfortunate, for it would get Tom Percival 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 and Tom led the way along a blind path toward the camp. Presently the former began whistling at intervals, and when at length an answer came from the depths of the forest, Rodney knew that the camp was close at hand. Ten minutes later he had been introduced to Mr. Hobson's companions, and was listening in a dazed sort of way to their words of greeting and sympathy. They knew just how he felt, they said, for they had been obliged to leave home themselves on account of their opinions, and an indors.e.m.e.nt from Tom Percival, with whose uncle Justus they were well acquainted, they a.s.sured him would bring all the aid and comfort they could 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 that Mrs. Merrick had put up for them. "And if he hasn't shut up the eyes of these Union men I don't want a cent. If I hear this story many more times I shall begin to believe I am Union without knowing it, and that I left home because I had to."

As the refugees never once suspected that Rodney was acting a part, and that Tom Percival had deliberately deceived them, they asked no leading questions, and the visitor was very thankful for that. Of course they were anxious to know how matters stood in Louisiana, and Rodney could truthfully say that the Union men were so very careful to keep their opinions to themselves that they were known only to their most trusted friends. He had heard that there were a good many of them in and around Mooreville, but had never had the luck to meet any. If a man in his part of the State had dared to hint that he was opposed to secession, he would have stood a fine chance of being mobbed. Rodney was glad when the lunch had been eaten, the last pipe smoked and the refugees stretched themselves on their beds of boughs with their saddles for pillows, and drew their blankets over them. Then he was at liberty to think over the situation but denied the privilege of talking to Tom; and that was what he most desired. While he was wondering what his next adventure was going 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 when he opened his eyes he found that it was just getting daylight, and that all the refugees were sitting up on their blankets stretching their arms and yawning; while, faint and far off but quite distinct, he heard a familiar 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 minds what we are going to do with him."

"That's business," said Rodney. "I don't like to let him go, for he was the 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 that he had never expressed an opinion. He had not been asked, for Tom Percival had done it for him. He followed the men to the place where the horses had been picketed, and listened while they talked and tried to make up their minds whether it would be prudent to give him a trade. There was not the slightest difference of opinion regarding the good qualities of the roan colt, for they could be seen at a glance; but here was where the trouble came in: They hoped to return to their homes at no distant day, and what would their neighbors say to them when a horse that was said to have been stolen was seen in their possession? It was Mr. Westall's argument over again.

"I would just as soon take Percival's horse to the settlement as to go back there with this roan," said Mr. Hobson. "One is as dangerous to us as the other. You see, everybody, Union as well as Secesh, is down on a horse-thief, and the politics of the man who is caught with this horse in his keeping will not save him. After all I don't know that I can be in a much worse mess than I am now, and if you like, I will give you my horse for him. It's a one-sided trade I admit, the roan is worth two of mine, but see the risk I shall run?"

"I'll do it," said Rodney quickly. "I shall be glad to see the last of that colt, and hope he will not be the means of getting you into difficulty. 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 for you, because Percival has a general knowledge of the roads ahead, and knows 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 that the road to their camp was clear, and twenty minutes later he came into sight, followed by a darkey. The latter was mounted on a mule and carried a heavy basket on each arm. The first question that was asked, "Have you seen or heard anything more of Thompson's men?" was answered in the negative on both sides, and then the refugees and their guests were ready for breakfast. Merrick seemed relieved to know that the boys had succeeded in getting the roan colt off their hands, and told them that he had brought the darkey along to act as their guide until they were beyond the limits of his settlement.

"After you went away last night, Nance said that there are some folks about here who know I am harboring two chaps that I have took some pains to keep out of sight, and so I thought you had best keep to the bresh till you had got past them peoples' houses," said he; but there was one thing his wife did not tell him, and that was that one of the two boys he was harboring was as good a Confederate as any of the men who had ridden along the road. That was a matter she kept to herself.

Breakfast being over the only thing there was to detain the boys was to saddle their horses. That did not take many minutes, and then they were ready for the new dangers that lay along the road ahead of them. After thanking Mr. Merrick for his kindness, not forgetting to send their best regards to his wife, they shook hands with the refugees and told their sable guide to go on.

"I never saw things quite so badly mixed up as they are in this country," said Rodney, when the camp and its occupants had been left out of sight. "And neither did I dream that you were such an expert story-teller. Suppose I had said or done something to arouse the suspicions 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 out loud that you are a Confederate on your way to join a man who is getting ready to fight against the government of the United States. You knew I wouldn't do that, and so I had to put you in a false position. It isn't my 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 this time on?"

"I am sure I don't know. We'll be Union all over for the next twenty miles or so, and then perhaps you can show yourself in your true colors while 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 through this neck of the woods. But I'll tell you what I honestly believe: Price's cavalry is scouting all through the central and southern parts of the State, shooting Union men and picking up recruits, and as soon as we begin to hear of them, I think you had better desert me and join them; that is, unless you have come to your senses, and made up your mind that you had better cast your lot with the loyal people of the nation."

"Don't you know any better than to talk to me in that style?" exclaimed Rodney. "Do you imagine that I have come up here just to have the fun of going back on my principles?"

"No; I don't suppose you have, but I think you ought to before it is too late. However, let politics go. Have you heard from any of the Harrington 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 but had received no reply, and the reader knows the reason why. It was because Marcy dare not write and tell Rodney how matters stood with him, for fear that the letter might be stopped by some of his Secession neighbors,-Captain Beardsley, for instance,-who would use it against him. He told of the letters he had received from Dixon, Billings and d.i.c.k Graham, and they were all in the army, or going as soon as they could get there. He hadn't heard from any other Barrington fellow, but he believed that Tom Percival was the one black sheep in the flock-that the others had gone with their States.

"I don't believe it," said Tom, with decided emphasis. "I am not the only Union fellow there was in the academy, by a long shot, and I know that 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 like him scattered all over the country."

"Say," exclaimed Rodney, bending forward in his saddle and speaking just loud enough for Tom, who was riding in advance, to catch his words. "Do you 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 listening to our conversation. You are all right, of course, but I am afraid I have said too much. I was so glad to get a chance to talk to you that I never thought of him."

"Didn't you once a.s.sure your cousin Marcy that all the blacks in the South would go with their masters against the abolitionists?" inquired Tom.

"Yes, I believe I did, and I think so yet. I don't think we have a darkey on our place who would accept his freedom to-day if it were offered 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 skip over the border into abolition territory. If you think the darkies are loyal 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 am Union and he heard me tell his master so yesterday. But if you think he can't be trusted to keep his mouth shut, we'll turn him to the right-about in short order."

"And lose the benefit of his knowledge?" said Rodney. "I wouldn't do that. Let him stay as long as Merrick told him to, and in the mean time I 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 they wanted to speak freely was annoying in the extreme; but it might have saved them some trouble and anxiety if they had done it from the first.

CHAPTER XII.

TWICE SURPRISED.

During the whole of their journey through the woods, which did not come to an end until long after four o'clock that afternoon, the negro guide never once spoke to the boys unless he was first spoken to, nor did they see any living' thing except a drove of half-wild hogs, which fled precipitately at their approach. The plantation darkies, as a general thing, were talkative and full of life, and this unwonted silence on the part of their conductor finally produced an effect upon Tom Percival who, when the noon halt was called, took occasion to give the man a good looking over. He was not very well satisfied with the result of his examination.

"How much farther do you go with us, boy?" said he.

"Not furder'n Mr. Truman's house, an' dat aint above ten mile from hyar," was the answer.

"Truman," repeated Tom. "He's all right. I was told to stop on the way and call upon him for anything I might need. Hurry up and take us there; and when you do," he added in a whisper, to Rodney, "we'll say good-by to you. You were right; he's treacherous. He's a red-eyed n.i.g.g.e.r, and when you see a n.i.g.g.e.r of that sort you want to look out for him."

There was no need that they should "look out" for their guide now, because there was no way in which he could betray them secretly. The danger would arise when they stopped for the night or after they parted from him the next morning. Then he would be at liberty to go where he pleased, and as he was acquainted with every Union man for miles around, it would not take him long to spread among them the report that there was a Confederate stopping at Mr. Truman's house in company with a young Missourian who did not want his name spoken where other folks could hear it. If such a story as that should get wind, it would make trouble all around-for Mr. Truman as well as for themselves; for Truman's neighbors would want to know why he gave food and lodging to a Confederate when he claimed to be a Union man himself. The longer Rodney thought of these things, the more he wished himself safe back in Louisiana.

At half-past four by Tom Percival's watch the negro stopped his mule beside a rail fence running between the woods and an old field, on whose farther side was a snug plantation house, nestled among the trees. That was where Mr. Truman lived, and where Merrick had told them to stop for the night.

"And I suppose you will stay also, won't you?" said Tom, speaking to the darkey who bent down from his mule and threw a few of the top rails off the fence so that the boys could jump their horses over into the field.

"Who? Me? Oh no, sar," answered the guide, with rather more earnestness than the occasion seemed to demand. "Ma.r.s.e Merrick done tol' me to be sure an' come home dis very night, an' I 'bleeged to mind him, sar."

"I'll bet you don't mind him," thought Tom, as he and Rodney rode into the field and waited for the negro to build up the fence again. "There's a bug under that chip and I know it."

The appearance of three hors.e.m.e.n riding up to the back door in this unexpected way created something of a flutter among the female portion of Mr. Truman's family, and even the farmer himself, who presently came to the door of one of the outbuildings, seemed to be a little startled; but when a second look showed him that one of Mr. Merrick's negroes was of the number, he came up to the pump near which the boys had dismounted.

"This is Mr. Truman, I believe," said Tom.

"Well, yes; that's my name, but I don't reckon I ever saw you before," replied the man cautiously.

"Do you know this boy who has been acting as our guide?"

"Oh, yes. I know all of Merrick's boys, so it must be all right. But you see in times like these-"

"I understand," Tom interposed, for Mr. Truman talked so slowly that the boy was afraid he might never get through with what he had to say. "In times like these you don't know whom to trust. That's our fix, exactly; and we shouldn't have thought of stopping here if Merrick and Hobson had not told us who and what you are. Go on, boy, and tell Mr. Truman who and what we are, where we came from, where we want to go, and all about it."