A Rebellion in Dixie

“It is I, Robert,” came the joyful response; and in a few seconds Mr. Dawson came up. “By George, I have had a good race for it!” he went on, pulling his hat from his head and using his crooked finger to remove the big drops of perspiration that clung there. “Now, let us see what those laddy-bucks are going to do with the house.”

“You’ll never see it again after to-night,” replied Dawson. “Father, this is Leon Sprague, who has stuck to me all along.”

“Leon, I am glad to meet you,” said Mr. Dawson, extending his hand. “If you wait here for a few minutes you’ll see what you are going to come to. The rebels are making up an organization already to go up to Jones county and clean them out.”

“And, father, here’s another Yank that we must not forget,” said Dawson, laying his hand upon Tom Howe’s shoulder. “He’s little, but he don’t say much. You heard about the boy that came so near losing his life during the last drive? Well, sir, he’s the man, and there is the one who saved him.”

“I’m no Yank,” returned Tom, indignantly. “I am Tom Howe, Southern born, the same as yourself; but I hate a rebel.”

“I am glad to know you, Tom, and sometime, when I get opportunity, I am going to shake hands with you. You see the reason we never knew you before is because you kept to the river during your drives, and never came back into the country at all,” said Mr. Dawson, turning to Leon. “Now, we will wait here a few minutes and see what those fellows are going to do with the house.”

They were not obliged to wait very long, for the squad soon returned, having captured the clay-bank mule, and two of them at once proceeded to ride out the lane in which the fugitives had gone. They came on until they got within fifty yards of the woods, and there they stopped.

“I declare they are coming on in pursuit of us,” whispered Leon, drawing one of his revolvers and resting it upon the top rail of the fence in readiness to shoot.

“That’s the captain and the lieutenant,” said Mr. Dawson. “They’re not coming any further. When they see that we have gone into the woods they will go back. There isn’t a man in that squad that dare trust himself within reach of these thickets.”

The old homestead doomed.

The boys stood there and watched the two men – Leon at the bridle of his horse to hold his head down, and Tom keeping a firm hold of his mule’s tail – and finally they saw one of them alight and strike a match. By the aid of the light which it threw out they examined the ground and easily saw the wagon-tracks, but they didn’t care to go any nearer the woods. They held a short consultation, after which they turned their horses and rode back to the house.

“I told you they wouldn’t come any further,” said Mr. Dawson. “If I was in command of that squad I would think twice before I would put my men in danger of certain death by bringing them in here.”

Mr. Dawson leaned upon the fence again and devoted himself to the house. He wanted to see what was going to happen to his property before he went away. He had not held this position for more than five minutes before his heart gave a violent throb, and then he became satisfied that the enemy was carrying out his plan of setting fire to the house. He saw a bright light on the inside, which grew brighter every moment, and finally the flames came out of the doors and windows. And not only the house, but the barns, the corn-crib and the negro cabins went up in smoke.

“Well, boys, I have seen enough,” said Mr. Dawson, turning away to follow up the wagons. “The rebels have one enemy now that they never had before. Which way did your mother go, Robert?”

“Yes, and they have got two now,” said Dawson, who was almost ready to cry when he saw the home of his boyhood going up in flames. “I’ll shoot every rebel that comes across my path.”

“What could you expect in war times?” said his father. “Of course, I looked for them to burn my house – indeed, I should do the same if I were on their side; but there’s one thing they can’t burn, and that is the ground. When these troubles are all over, if we live to see it, we have the plain land with which to start over again.”

“But what have they done with our black ones?”

“Oh, they have gone.”

“Gone where?”

“They are on the road towards Mobile before this time.”

“Well, I’ll bet you they don’t keep them there long,” said Dawson, angrily. “They will have to watch them all the time or they’ll get away. Mother went out this way, father.”

“You see, it wouldn’t do for them to leave the darkies with us,” said Mr. Dawson, pausing for a few moments to allow the boys time to mount their animals, “because we are traitors to the South. They calculate to whip us, and when the war is ended we’ll have to get out.”

“But they ain’t a-going to whip us,” said Dawson.

The fugitives followed along the road – it had been cut in better times, to enable the planter to haul out the logs – for a mile or more, and then they came up with the wagon, which had halted for them to come up. They had been within sight of the burning house all the while, and the mother, although she had all she could do to choke back her tears, was endeavoring to explain the matter to her children, who could not see into it at all. When young Robert appeared in sight, they forthwith assailed him with questions.

“Say, Bobo, what’s the matter?” said the elder.

“Oh, some men wanted to burn our house, and so we had to get out and let them do it,” returned Dawson.

“Go on, Cuff,” said Mr. Dawson; and all he did was to reach in and give his wife a cordial grasp of the hand. “Keep right in this road until you strike the main road, and then go for the bridge the best you know how.”

“But, Bobo, I don’t see what them folks should want to burn our house for,” said the boy. “We’ve always minded our own business – ”

“Wait till we get to where we are going and then I will tell you all about it,” said Dawson; and that settled the question of burning the house until the party reached Ellisville.

Following the directions of his master, the negro stuck to the woods-road, while Mr. Dawson and the boys stopped in a fence-corner to reconnoiter. The house was a mile away, but it threw out so much light that anything that happened around it could be plainly seen. They saw some of the men moving about, and when everything was well started they all mounted their horses and disappeared down the road in the direction of Mobile. But they had an old soldier to contend with in Mr. Dawson, who did not leave his hiding-place for an hour. He didn’t know but some of the men would come back, and so get between him and the bridge and cut him off, and that was the reason he waited there in the fence-corner. While he waited there he talked, but it was not about anything connected with his recent misfortune.

“Do you boys happen to know anything about Dan Newman?” said he.

“Yes, sir, we know him,” replied Leon, with a smile. “And we know Cale, too.”

“Well, what sort of fellows are they?”

“It’s my opinion that they are all rebels,” said Leon, with emphasis. “The amount of it was that the old man expected to get some kind of a position, and when he didn’t get it he turned against us.”

“That’s just what I supposed,” said Mr. Dawson. “Robert, I heard all about you before I ever saw you to-night.”

“Who told you?” asked his son, in surprise.

“Dan Newman told me; or, rather, he told it to the captain and I overheard it.”

“Was he out here?” asked Leon, and he was so surprised that he could scarcely believe he heard aright. “Was he out here among the rebels?”

“He was, and he was the one that kept the squad from running into the pickets stationed at the bridge.”

Mr. Dawson then went on to tell what he knew about Dan, and before he got fairly started he had two surprised and angry boys for listeners. When he told how “that rebel fellow” had ridden on before them in company with Leon and Tom, and that he could easily capture them if they would only wait until they came back, Leon took off his hat, scratched his head and declared:

“If that fellow is at home when we get there I am going to have him arrested. I don’t see why the fellow didn’t wait.”

“Well, I don’t think he paid much attention to what Dan had to say,” replied Mr. Dawson. “He preferred to go on and see how many men there were at the bridge, and when he came back he would look into all the houses and see if there had been any evidences of hasty departure. I guess he didn’t find any until he got to our house, and then he found all he wanted,” added Mr. Dawson, with a laugh.

“Well, now, this beats me,” said Leon.

“Don’t it?” replied Tom.

“There was one amusing thing that was connected with the interview,” said Mr. Dawson, “and that was Dan’s rapid promotion. The captain made him a captain, too, and his brother a lieutenant.”

“Why, had the captain right to do that?”

“Certainly not; but the captain saw what manner of man he was, and so promoted him on the spot. I thought I had better tell you of this, so as to put you on your guard.”

“Thank you; and you may be sure that we shall take advantage of it. Captain Newman! How that sounds!”

As for Tom Howe, he was almost beside himself with fury. When Leon punched him in the ribs and asked him what he thought about it, he simply shook his head and said nothing. After awhile he inquired: “Was Cale there?”

“Yes, Cale was there, but he didn’t have much to say.”

“No matter. He was knowing to it all, and he would have been the worst one in the lot if he had only dared.”

“What would you have done, Robert?” asked Leon of his rebel friend, although the latter hadn’t made any remark thus far.

“What would I have done if they had laid alongside the road and tried to capture us?” replied Dawson, and there was much more determination in his words than Leon had ever noticed before. “Well, sir, I wouldn’t have been here now. Didn’t you hear me say that I would drop before I would be captured? I meant every word of it. If I should be taken prisoner I would only be hanged, and I would rather be shot than that.”

“Well, boys, I have seen enough to make me believe that the rebels have gone home,” said Mr. Dawson. “Now let’s go and find your mother and see how much luck we will have in getting by the sentries.”

“Oh, we won’t have any trouble there,” said Leon. “I’ve got the password.”

“Yes; but it won’t be of any use to you in broad daylight.”

“Then I’ll make my face pass us. Everybody about here knows Leon Sprague.”

They had something more to do in coming up with the wagon, for Cuff, when he struck the main road, kept on “the best he knew how,” so they had almost reached the bridge when they came within sight of his span of mules. After a short consultation it was decided that Leon and Tom should go on ahead to smooth the way for the fugitives, leaving them to follow with the team; so they galloped their horses and presently heard a voice ordering them to halt. By this time it was almost sunrise, and Leon, profiting by the experience of the old soldier, didn’t say he had the countersign. He and Tom stopped and got off their horses.

“Well, I declare, it’s you, ain’t it?” said the one who came out to see who and what they were. “Did you see anything of the rebels last night?”

“I should say we did,” returned Leon, with a laugh. “We stood right by and saw Mr. Dawson’s house burn up.”

“Was that before they fired into us?”

“Why, I didn’t hear anything about that. Did they shoot into you?”

“Yes, sir; and they killed Bach Noble as dead as a hammer. You see he was standing guard when they crept up and had no show to defend himself; but we got the better of them.”

“What did you do with Bach?”

“We laid him out there in the bushes and sent a man up to Ellisville after a wagon to take him home. He was the first man killed on our side, but I’ll bet he ain’t the last.”

“You are sergeant of this post, are you not?”

“I reckon. That’s what they call me.”

“I want you to pass along this road a party of rebels who are now coming toward us. I saw their houses burned last night. They are mighty tired of fighting our fellows, and are now going over into Jones county to battle under our flag. And I will tell you another thing about them: they won’t take any prisoners. Here they come now.”

“Now, Leon, I reckon you’ll swear by them?”

“I will, any day in the week. Ask the man any questions you want to. They have got children with them, and they wouldn’t surely take them into an enemy’s country.”

The Dawson party approached, being beckoned to by Leon’s hand, and young Robert was promptly recognized by the so-called sergeant in charge of the post. He shook him warmly by the hand, and said if the rest of the family were as strong for the Union as he was they might all come in and go on to Ellisville.

“They are as strong,” said Dawson. “If you had stood where my father stood and saw your property burn up, you wouldn’t have much love in you for rebels.”

The party passed on over the bridge, lingered there to exchange a word with the squad on guard at the bridge and to look at the blood-stains the sentinel had left when he fell, and finally kept on the road to camp.

CHAPTER XIII

CALE IN TROUBLE

The Dawson party now drew a long breath of relief. They had crossed the bridge and were now on the road to Ellisville, the pickets were between them and their pursuers, and all danger of capture was passed. Young Robert walked along beside his horse – the elder Dawson seemed determined to foot it, and his son kept him company – and, judging from the remarks exchanged between husband and wife, all peril of being made prisoners was gone. Even Cuff drew a long breath and slowed up on his mules, while Leon and Tom rode on ahead, apparently very much occupied with their own thoughts. Everybody knew what they were thinking about, and for a long time no one troubled them; but at last Dawson could stand it no longer.

“It’s rather rough on you, ain’t it, Leon?” said he. “To see where that sentinel shed his blood is enough to make you believe that you have not undertaken a picnic.”

“I tell you, boys, you have taken something of a job on your hands,” said Mr. Dawson. “I never heard of such a thing, and I am afraid before the thing is up you will find it an impossibility. The sight of a little blood don’t worry me. When you belong to a company that charges a battery, and the battery opens on you and kills all but five or six of you, then it will be time for you to open your eyes.”

“Well, I don’t see why you took that method of finding out how many men there were at the bridge,” said Leon. “Why couldn’t you have made a fuss of some kind out there in the bushes and then counted the men when they came out?”

“Because it was orders,” said Mr. Dawson. “If you were in the rebel army for a few short weeks you would know what that means. I fired with the balance, but I shot wild. I never fired at a Union man in my life.”

“But, father, how did you come to be on this scout?” asked Dawson. “You don’t belong to that company.”

“Oh, no. I happened to be present when the squad was made out, and among them was an old German fellow who didn’t care to go, and I borrowed his weapons and mule and went in his place. I expect he’ll get tired waiting for his weapons before he sees them again. That’s a pretty good carbine,” added Mr. Dawson, holding his gun off at arm’s length and looking at it.

“I didn’t know that a man could do that,” said Leon. “I thought you had to obey orders, no matter whether you wanted to or not.”

“Not in a case like this. I didn’t say anything to anybody about it. I got on the mule, and when the squad was called together I put in an appearance. I was afraid that something was going to happen to my family, and I couldn’t bear to stay behind.”

“I tell you, things turned out all right, didn’t they?” said Dawson, gleefully. “You came home just in the right time to join us.”

“What I want to know is, am I going to get my horse?” said Mr. Dawson. “I raised him myself, and shouldn’t like to part with him.”

“You will get your horse all right,” said Leon. “If he has been given to anybody, that man will have to give him up.”

That settled the matter to the satisfaction of all the Dawson family. Leon soon began to get over the forebodings caused by that crimson stain on the floor of the bridge, and riding beside the wagon he kept up a conversation with Mrs. Dawson, who told him many things connected with the service that he hadn’t dreamed of. In due time they arrived at Ellisville. Just as they were going up the main road that led past the hotel they met a squad of sentinels going down to relieve those at the bridge. It was plain that an old soldier was in command of them, for they were closed up, held their guns at a carry and marched by twos. The two officers who commanded them marched at the head. They had evidently had some time to drill their men, and the result showed that the backwoodsmen were not at all behind in military matters. When they came up, they reined their horses out of the way and passed on without speaking.

“There’s a squad that is well drilled,” said Mr. Dawson. “But I do not see why you do not destroy that bridge. It seems to be a world of trouble to you.”

“There’s a very good reason why we don’t destroy it,” said Leon. “There are five other places where it can be forded.”

“Why, I hadn’t heard of that,” exclaimed Mr. Dawson.

“Do you remember sending two men up here to make a map of the country?” asked Leon. “Well, they found it out.”

“And did you let those men go back?”

“No, one of them stayed up here,” said Leon, who somehow could not find it in his heart to say the man had been killed. “If we destroy the bridge, anybody like you, who is tired of serving under that old rag, won’t know that they can get across, and we have nobody to send them to show where the fords are. We don’t know, ourselves.”

As they drew near to the porch of the hotel, Leon saw his father standing there. He dismounted and shook him by the hand – he was certain that his father put a little more grip into the shake than usual – and presented Mr. Dawson, who, it is not necessary to say, was received with a hearty welcome.

“The first thing this man wants is his horse,” said Leon.

“Was he with us when we captured that wagon-train?” asked Mr. Sprague. “If so, he can have his horse. They have not been given out yet.”

“There, sir, you got your horse,” added Leon, turning to Mr. Dawson. “Now the next thing is, we want to report. Is the President in his room? Then, father, I want you to come up there with Mr. Dawson. He’s got some things to tell you that will astonish you.”

His father replied that he didn’t see how he was going to be astonished any more than he had been, but followed Leon up the stairs to the President’s office. They found the gentleman there just as they had seen him before, with a pair of blue jean pants on, which were tucked in heavy cowhide boots, and no coat on. He greeted Mr. Dawson very cordially and inquired, in his hearty way:

“So you’ve got tired of serving under a flag that you don’t like, and have come over here to cast your lot with us. Well, sir, the best we have got is yours.”

“I am well aware of that, Mr. President,” said Mr. Dawson. “But there is one thing that I want to post you on at once. It is about that man Dan Newman.”

Mr. Knight removed the pen from behind his ear and settled back in his chair. He had been expecting to hear something from Dan Newman for a long time. Mr. Dawson began and told him the whole story of Dan’s meeting with the Confederates, his sudden promotion, and all about it, and when he got done there was an expression on the President’s face that few people had seen there.

“Well, Dawson, you can go down there and pick out any place you can find to draw your wagon up,” said he. “You are right at home here. Sprague, what is your opinion regarding Dan Newman?”

“My opinion is that he ought to be arrested at once,” replied Mr. Sprague.

“And after that are you going to try him by a court-martial?”

“That will be just as the men say. If he is not tried by court-martial he will be shipped off among his friends. They can promote him faster than we can,” said Mr. Sprague, with a smile.

“Well, get to work at once. Take as many men as can surround Newman’s old shanty and make prisoners of those boys. If the old man says too much, bring him along, too. Dawson, I shall send for you presently.”

“Very good, sir. I will be on hand when I am wanted.”

Mr. Sprague lost no time in getting his men together, and while he was hunting them up Dawson held a short interview with his father.

“Now, you take my horse,” said he, “and when we get back we’ll get your nag. Of course Leon is going to arrest Newman, and I am going with him. Turn into any open place you can find in the grove, and there make your camp. You will find them all friendly here.”

Mr. Dawson mounted the horse and led the wagon down the road, and just then Bud McCoy came up. Bud was always on hand when he was wanted. He got so in the habit of staying close around to Mr. Sprague that it was not long before the men came to call him Colonel Sprague’s body-guard. But Bud didn’t mind that. He said he got more to do by being around there than he could anywhere else, and that was what a Union volunteer wanted in times like these.

“What’s up?” he exclaimed. “What does the old man want with volunteers?”

“He is going out to arrest Dan Newman,” said Leon.

“Well, there; I always thought that man ought to be arrested,” said Bud. “He has been preaching up secession docterings till you can’t rest. What’s he been doing now?”

It did not take long for Leon to make Bud understand the matter, and as he went on to tell what Dan had been guilty of, the scowl on the man’s face changed to one of furious hatred. When Leon ceased he struck his fist into his open palm with a ringing slap.

“You’ll go, too, won’t you?”

“Of course I’ll go. I ain’t a-going to stand no fooling like that. He has said enough to hang him higher’n Haman.”

While they were talking Mr. Sprague was seen coming at the head of five men whom he had summoned to make the arrest. We said he had summoned five men, but the news of what he wanted to do had gradually worked its way through the camp until there were more than twenty men who were slinging on their bullet-pouches and hurrying to catch up with those who had been summoned. The feeling was so great against Newman that all hands wanted to have a finger in his arrest. As he passed by the porch of the hotel, Leon, Tom and Dawson joined him.

“There’s one thing about it,” said Leon, looking back at the stalwart fellows behind him. “No Newman can get away from this party.”

“You’re mighty right,” said one of the men. “It’s a wonder to me that your father didn’t arrest him long ago.”

“See here, boys,” said Mr. Sprague, from the head of the column. “Be quiet and still. Those Newmans are like quails; they’ll run and hide if they hear a twig snap. When we come up with the house I’ll give the word, and then you know what to do.”

The Newmans in trouble.

Silently the men fell in behind their leader, and swiftly did they work their way toward the shanty. It was probably half a mile to where it was located, and although everybody moved so cautiously that they were certain not a twig snapped, they were not careful enough to conceal their presence from the man they were going to arrest. At length, when Mr. Sprague dashed aside the thicket and stepped out into the little space that surrounded the cabin, they saw Newman and his wife at the door. The former held in his hand an axe, and the other had a skillet, which she flourished to and fro as the men approached.

“What do you want here?” exclaimed Newman, and he lifted his axe threateningly in his hand.

“Surround the house, boys,” said Mr. Sprague. “We’ll talk to you in a minute.”

The most of the men were prompt to act upon this suggestion, and no sooner had Bud McCoy, who was leading one squad, appeared behind the house than he caught a glimpse of Cale Newman in the act of leaving it through the window.

“Ah! here you are, my fine lad,” said Bud, seizing him by the arm. “Where’s that brother of yours?”

“Oh, now, what are you going to arrest me for?” exclaimed Cale, who turned white and trembled in every limb. “I ain’t done nothing. Father, do you see what they are doing?”