Rodney The Partisan

"Oh, no. I know the name of every man it will do to trust for twenty miles ahead," replied Tom. "But I've got his name in my head. I haven't a scrap of writing about me, and I am sorry to know that you have. Take my advice and stick everything in the shape of a letter you have in your pockets into the tire the first good chance you get."

"I have been thinking about that all the afternoon. What if I should fall in with a party strong enough to search me? I've got a letter addressed to Erastus Percival."

"Where in the world did you get it?" demanded Tom, who was greatly astonished. "Man alive, he's my father."

"So I supposed. It was given to me by Captain Howard whose acquaintance I made aboard the Mollie Able, and he got it from a friend of his."

"My limited knowledge of the English language will not permit me to do this subject justice," declared Tom. He looked around for something to sit down on, and then leaned against the wall for support. "My father has heard of you and would have helped you at the risk of his life. He wouldn't go back on a Barrington boy any more than I would; but if you should be searched by rebels anywhere between here and Springfield, that letter would hang you. Burn it before you take the road to-morrow."

"If your father is so well known, I don't see why his neighbors haven't hung him before this time," said Rodney.

"It's safer to try the bushwhacking game, and he has been shot at three times already. He doesn't expect to live to see the end of these troubles, but he is like your cousin Marcy Gray – he doesn't haul in his shingle one inch. Burn that letter, I tell you."

"I didn't intend to present it unless I had to," replied Rodney. "Now, then, what brought you here? I thought you were hidden in the swamp along with some other refugees."

"So I was; but I came back on purpose to see if Merrick had heard anything from you. I was on my way to the house when I thought I would stop and look in here. I was hidden in the bushes when those Emergency men rode down the road. Of course they are going to the swamp, and I don't know whether I can get back there to-night or not. I wonder how they got on to my track so quick."

Rodney said that Merrick thought it was through old man Swanson. Tom replied that he had never heard of such a man, and Rodney went on to tell of his accidental meeting with him at the cross-roads, adding:

"Mr. Westall told him that I and my horse were all right, and not to be interfered with, and that he would make something by keeping a bright lookout for a boy without any boots on, and a roan colt. One of the party also told him that you were unarmed, but Swanson didn't take much stock in that. He declared that there were plenty of people in the country who would be mean enough to give you clothes and weapons for the asking, and I reckon he was about right. I gave you a revolver and I see some one else has furnished you with a pair of boots. Now, didn't you know, when you ran off with my horse, leaving yours for me to ride, that every man I met would take me for you?"

"That's a fact," replied Tom, "but I never thought of it before. But I couldn't get my horse out of the yard without scaring the others, and so I had to do the best I could. Now that I think of it, perhaps we had better let the trade stand a little while longer."

"Oh, do you?" exclaimed Rodney. "You have good cheek I must say."

"It isn't cheek at all, but a desire to keep you out of trouble as long as I can," answered Tom.

"Making me ride a horse that has been advertised all through the country as stolen property is a good way to keep me out of trouble, isn't it now?" said Rodney. "I never should have thought of it if you hadn't mentioned it."

"Hold on a bit," replied Tom. "No one in this section is looking for you now. You can take the road and keep it, and the horse you ride will not bring you into trouble; but if that roan colt shows his nose where anybody can see it, he'll be nabbed quicker'n a flash, and his rider too. See? As I am a little more experienced in dodging about in the bushes than you are, you had better let me take the risk."

"I never could look a white man in the face again if I should do that," answered Rodney. "Don't you know what will be done with you if you are caught?"

"I shan't run anymore risk than you did when you helped me get out of that corncrib," said Tom, reaching for his schoolmate's hand in the dark and giving it a hearty squeeze. "Don't you know what would be done toyou if you were caught with that roan colt in your possession? You would be taken back to Mr. Westall's settlement, and when he saw that you were riding the same horse you rode when you came to Cedar Bluff landing, wouldn't he want to know where you got him? Can you think of any answers you could give that would satisfy him? I'll trade revolvers, if you want yours back (I know you've got one, for I heard you cock it when I came to the door), but I really think you had better let me keep your horse a little while longer. I hear somebody coming," he added, stepping to the nearest crack and looking out. "It's Merrick. I can see his white shirt."

A moment later the owner of the stable came in, and was not a little surprised when he heard himself addressed by the boy whom he supposed to be snugly hidden in the deepest and darkest nook of the swamp. Tom told him why he had come back instead of keeping out of sight, and asked what had become of the squad of men he saw riding along the road a while before.

"They kept on as far as I could hear 'em," replied the farmer, "and if they left any one behind to watch the house, they were so sly about it that I never seen it."

"Of course it was broad daylight when Tom came to your house," said Rodney. "Well, how do you know but that man Swanson saw him when he went in?"

"I don't know it," replied Merrick. "But even if he did see Percival go in, these 'Mergency men won't never say a word to me about it, kase they know well enough that if they should hurt a hair of my head, some of my friends would bushwhack 'em to pay for it. They would send word over into the next county, and some fellers from there would ride over some dark night and set my buildings a-going, or pop me over as quick as they would a squirrel, if they could get a chance at me. That's the way we do business nowadays, and that's the reason we don't never go to the door when somebody rides up and hails the house after dark."

"Why, I wouldn't live in such a country," said Rodney.

"What would you do, if everything you had in the world was right here and you couldn't sell it and get out?" replied the farmer. "You'd stay and look out for it, I reckon, and make it as hot as you could for any one who tried to drive you away. But driving is a game two can play at," added Merrick, with a low chuckle; and Rodney noticed that he ceased speaking once in a while and turned his head on one side as if he were listening for suspicious sounds. "I don't say I have rode around of nights myself and I don't say I aint; but I do say for a fact that if you go over into the next county, you won't find so many men there who make a business of shooting Union folks as there used to be. Some parts of the kentry t'other side the ridge looks as though they had been struck by a harrycane that had blew away all the men and big boys."

This was what Captain Howard must have meant when he warned Rodney that every little community in the Southern part of the State was divided into two hostile camps. This was partisan warfare, and Rodney wanted to be a partisan.

"Is that the sort of partisan you are, Tom?" he inquired, when Merrick went out again to see if it would be safe for them to go into the kitchen and get supper. "I wish I had had sense enough to stay at home."

"I wish to goodness you had," said Tom honestly. "Not but that you've got as much sense as most boys of your age, but you know as well as I do that the Barrington fellows used to say you didn't always know what you were about. Why, when I heard you telling your story to Mr. Westall down there in Jeff's shanty, it was all I could do to keep from saying, right out loud, that such a piece of foolishness had never come under my notice before."

"Where would you be at this moment if I hadn't been in Jeff's cabin last night?" retorted Rodney.

"Well, that's a fact," said Tom thoughtfully. "About the time I felt that stick and revolver in my hands, I was mighty glad you were around; but as soon as I had used them, I wished from the bottom of my heart that you were safe back in your own State. But since you are here, I am going to do my level best for you; and that's the reason I am going to keep your horse a little longer. If I don't give him back to you some day, you can keep mine to remember me by."

"And every time I look at him, I shall be reminded that I have been taken for a horse-thief," added Rodney.

"You are no more of a horse-thief than I am. Let that thought comfort you. How is it, Merrick?" he went on, addressing himself to the farmer who at that moment glided into the stable with noiseless footstep. "Can we go in and get supper, or will it be safer for you to bring it out to us?"

"You are to come right in," was the farmer's welcome reply. "It'll be safe, for I have cleared the kitchen of everybody except the old woman. She's Secesh the very worst kind, but that needn't bother you none. She knows how to get up a good supper."

"That is a matter that has a deeper interest for us just now than her politics," said Tom. "But what shall we do with the horse?"

"As soon as I have showed you the way to the table I'll come back and stay with him so't he won't whinny," answered Merrick. "If them 'Mergency men heard him calling they might think it was one of my own critters and then agin they mightn't; so it's best to be on the safe side."

That the farmer was very much afraid that the horse might betray his presence to the guerrillas was evident from the way he acted. He took long, quick steps when he started for the house, gave the two boys a hurried introduction to his wife, saw them seated at the table and then ran out again. Mrs. Merrick remained in the room to wait upon them, and that was an arrangement that Tom Percival did not like; for although she proved to be a pleasant and agreeable hostess and never said a word about politics, Tom did not think it safe to talk too freely in her presence, and took the first opportunity that was offered to give Rodney a friendly warning.

"After you have been in this country a while, you will find that the women are worse rebels than the men," said he, in an undertone. "I don't suppose she would lead the Emergency men on to us, for that would get Merrick into trouble; but such things have been done in the settlement where I live. We can't do any more talking at present. Have another piece of the toast?"

"If I had passed through as many dangers as you have and had as narrow an escape, I don't think I could eat as you do," said Rodney, who took note of the fact that his friend had not lost any of his appetite since he left Barrington.

"I've had three good meals to-day, and a hearty lunch in the swamp; but I don't know when I have been so hungry," replied Tom; and then seeing that Rodney cast occasional glances toward the kitchen stove in which a bright fire was burning, he continued, in an earnest whisper, "This is as good a chance as you will have. Chuck 'em in, and you'll not regret it; but if you have no objections, I should like to read them before you do it. I'll keep mum."

Rodney knew that, and forthwith produced the letters, which had been a source of anxiety to him ever since they came into his possession, and also Mr. Graham's last telegram. Tom said he did not know either of the men whose names were signed to the letters that came through Captain Howard, but he was better acquainted with Mr. Westall and his four companions than he cared to be.

"The man who wrote this letter to Erastus Percival, my father, must be some one down the river who has had business dealings with him; but I don't know the gentleman," said he, after he had run his eye over the various documents. "Put the whole business right into the stove. You don't want any such papers about you, for you don't know whom you are going to meet on the road. Trust to luck; stare Fate in the face, and your heart will be aisy if it's in the right place."

If Mrs. Merrick was surprised or suspected anything when Rodney put the letters into her stove and stood over them long enough to see them reduced to ashes, she made no remark. As he was about to return to his seat at the table there came a sound that arrested his steps, and brought Tom Percival out of his chair in a twinkling. The doors and windows were all closed (the curtains were pulled down as well, so that no one on the outside could see into the room), but the words, which were uttered in a muffled voice, came distinctly to their ears:

"Hallo, the house!"

"There they are," whispered Tom, thrusting his hand into his breast pocket and glancing toward Rodney as if to assure himself that the latter could be depended on in an emergency.

"Sit down and keep perfectly quiet," said Mrs. Merrick, in a calm tone. "They are ready to shoot, and you mustn't move about for fear of throwing your shadow upon one of the window curtains."

"Are they looking for your husband?" Rodney managed to ask.

"I suppose they are," answered the woman, who did not even change color.

"I will go to the door and find out."

"You mustn't," protested Rodney. "Mr. Merrick said he didn't take any notice of hails after dark."

"He doesn't, but I do," replied the wife. "Somebody must answer, or we couldn't live in this country a day longer."

"Do you recognize the voice?"

"Of course not," said Tom Percival. "They are strangers from some other county."

"Why can't we go with her and return their fire," exclaimed Rodney, as Mrs. Merrick left the room and moved along the wide hall toward the front door. "I'll not stay here like a bump on a log and let her be shot at, now I – "

"Come back here. Sit down and behave yourself or you'll play smash," said Tom, earnestly. "They'll not harm her. It's her husband they are after. Now listen."

Rodney sat down in the nearest chair, rested the hand that held his revolver on the table, and waited and listened with as much patience as he could command.

CHAPTER XI

RODNEY MAKES A TRADE

"You are a pretty partisan, you are," whispered Tom Percival, while they were waiting for Mrs. Merrick to open the front-door. "Those men outside are friends of yours, and yet you stand ready to fight them."

"I don't claim friendship with any cowardly bushwhacker," answered Rodney hotly. "I don't collogue [associate] with any such."

"Then you'll have to do one of two things," said Tom. "Go home and stay there, or else join the Confederate army. Nearly every man in Missouri is a bushwhacker. Now listen."

Tom did not follow his own suggestion, for when he heard the front door creak on its hinges, he laid down his revolver and covered his ears with his hands. This made Rodney turn as white as a sheet and get upon his feet again, fully expecting to hear the roar of a shotgun, followed by the clatter of buckshot in the hall; but instead of that, there came the calm, 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 is over," said Rodney, "I've always heard that a woman had more courage than a man and now I know it."

"Listen," repeated Tom, who had by this time taken his hands down from his ears.

There was no immediate response, for the party at the gate had looked for somebody else to answer their hail. Presently the same muffled voice inquired:

"Is Mr. Merrick to home?"

"He was a few minutes ago, but he is not in now," said his wife. "Have you any word to leave for him?"

"No, I don't reckon we have. We'll ketch – we'll see him some other time."

"Who shall I say called?"

"It don't matter. We're friends of his'n who wanted to see him on business. Goodnight."

"Good-night," replied Mrs. Merrick, as if her suspicions had not been roused in the slightest degree; and then she shut the door and came back into the kitchen. She was pale now and trembling; and Rodney made haste to 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 to Rodney. "But if Merrick had gone to the door he would have been full of buckshot 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 have they got against your husband any way, Mrs. Merrick?"

The woman kept her eyes fastened upon Tom's face while she drank a portion of the water he had poured out for her, and then she handed back the 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 this afternoon, and while I was there, I saw you and a roan horse go into our cow-lot. A little while afterward old Swanson rode up and told us about a Yankee horse-thief who was going through the country, trying to reach Springfield. That shows how fast news travels these times. And that isn't all I know," she added, nodding at Rodney. "You are as good a Confederate 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 knew about him and his friend.

"That is something I do not pretend to understand," was the answer. "But there must be some sort of an arrangement between you, for one is riding the other's horse. Now perhaps you had better go. I will put up a bite for you to eat during the night, and will try to get a breakfast to you in the morning. I shall have to let you out of a side door, for you would be seen if you went out of this well-lighted room; and if I were to put out the lamp, it would arouse the suspicious of any one who may happen to be on the watch."

"This reminds me of the days I have read of, when the women fought side by side with their husbands and sons in the block-houses," thought Rodney, as he shoved his revolver into his boot leg and waited for the lunch to be put up. "What a scout she would make."

Mrs. Merrick probably knew that the boys would not devote much time to sleeping that night, for the "bite" she put up for them was equal in quantity 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 any blankets to keep them warm. It might not be quite safe for them to build a camp fire, and consequently they would need plenty of covering. There was the lunch, and Tom needn't be so profuse in his thanks, for while she believed in fighting the Lincoln government, since it was bound to force a war upon the South, she did not believe in starving Union boys on account of their principles. She hoped Tom would reach home in safety, and advised him when he got there to turn over a new leaf and go with his State.

"Do you remember what that British colonel said to his commanding officer, after he had visited General Marion in his camp and dined with him on sweet potatoes?" inquired Rodney, after the two had been let out at the side door and were stealing along the fence toward the cow-stable where Mr. Merrick was patiently waiting for them. "The colonel said, 'You can't conquer such people;' and he was so impressed with the fact that he threw up his commission and went home to England. That is what I say to you, Tom Percival. The North can't conquer the South while we have such women as Mrs. Merrick in it."

"Now listen at you," replied Tom. "The North doesn't want to conquer the South, and you don't show your usual common sense in hinting at such a thing. The people – and when I say that, I mean the Union men both North and South – say that you secessionists shall not break up this government; and if you persist in your efforts, you are going to get whipped, as you ought to be. Hallo, Mr. Merrick," he added, stopping in the door of the stable and trying to peer through the darkness. "Did you hear those gentlemen asking for you a while ago?"

"I was listening," replied the farmer, with a chuckle. "But I disremembered the voice. The feller talked as though he was holding a handkercher or something over his mouth. How many of them was there? I seen 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 was just a tinge of pride in his tones when he said it. "I may happen over t'other side the ridge some night, and then the tables will be turned t'other way. Now, if you are ready, we'll make tracks for the swamp. The way is clear. Thompson's men have give it up as a bad job and gone home."

"Did they pass along the road?" exclaimed Rodney. "We never heard them."

"I did, and seen 'em too. There was a right smart passel of 'em – more'n enough to have made pris'ners of all the Union fellers in the swamp, if they hadn't been afraid to face the rifles that them same Union men know how to shoot with tol'able sure aim."

"Why is it necessary for them to hide out?" asked Rodney. "What have they done?"

"I don't rightly know as I can tell you," replied the farmer, in a tone which led the boy to believe that he could tell all about it if he felt so disposed. "But it seems that some high-up Secesh has disappeared and nobody don't know what's went with 'em; and some folks do say that them fellers in the swamp had a hand in their taking off. I dunno, kase I wasn't thar."

So saying, Merrick led the horse from the stable and the boys followed without saying a word, for they were by no means sure that Thompson's men had all gone away. They went through a wide field that had once been planted to corn, and when they had passed a gap in the fence by which it was surrounded, they found themselves in the edge of a thick wood.

"I don't see how you ever found your way through here alone," said Rodney 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 this gap, and then I came on well enough," replied Tom. "It's a wonder those horsemen didn't discover me. I threw myself flat on the ground between the old corn-rows, and saw them quite distinctly. Mr. Hobson said he would wait here for me."

"And he has kept his word, although he began to think you were never coming back," replied a voice from the darkness. "Is this the friend who helped you last night? I can just make out that there are three of you."

If it had been daylight there is no telling how Rodney Gray would have passed through the ordeal of shaking hands with a Union man who was suspected of being concerned in the "taking off" of some prominent secessionists in his settlement. It was a large, muscular hand that grasped his own, and Rodney knew that there was a big man behind it. He knew, too, that Mr. Hobson (that was the name by which the stranger was introduced) had no reason for supposing that he was anything but what Tom Percival represented him to be – a Union boy who had run away from home and come up North because his relatives were all secessionists and opposed to his Union principles. That was about the story Tom Percival had 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 a moment later, for Mr. Hobson said, while he continued to hold fast to Rodney's hand and shake it:

"So it seems that we Missourians are not the only ones who have to stand persecution because we believe in upholding the Stars and Stripes. I have heard something of your history from our young friend Percival, and assure you that I sympathize with you deeply. I want to compliment you on the courage and skill you showed in helping him escape from those guerrillas last night."

"It is hardly worth speaking of," answered Rodney, as soon as he could collect 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 will wonder what has become of me. By the way, didn't I hear a body of men riding along the road going west, a short time since?"