Castlemon Harry
Rodney The Partisan

CHAPTER VIII
RODNEY PROVES HIS FRIENDSHIP

It seemed to take Mr. Westall a long time to get his pipe going to his satisfaction, and when at last he spoke, it was easy to see that he was angry at Rodney for inquiring so particularly into matters that did not in any way concern him.

"It is very strange that you fail to understand me after I have taken such_ pains to go into details," said he, impatiently. "The fact that young Percival didn't steal the horse doesn't matter. We were bound to get rid of him before he could have time to raise and drill a company of Home Guards in our settlement, and the only way we could do it was to charge him with some crime that would make everybody, Union and Confederate, mad at him. See? But somehow he got wind of our plans (that shows how impossible it is to trust anybody these times), and dug out."

"On his own horse?" asked Rodney.

"Of course. We put after him, taking care to cut him off from the old post-road which he would have to follow to reach Springfield, and making him stay in the river counties among people who would do all in their power to help us catch him. He's a sharp one, and there aint no better critter than the one that has kept him ahead of us for nearly ten days. He has ridden that one horse all the time, while we have had to change now and then. He spent one night with Jeff in this cabin – "

"And the way he did pull the wool over our eyes was a caution," Nels interposed. "Why, if you could a heard him talk you would a thought, as we did, that he had been gunning for Union men and living on 'em ever since the furse began. He let on that he was in a great hurry to get over the river to see about getting some guns for Price's men, and we swallered every word he said."

"Tom always could tell a slick story," was Rodney's mental comment.

"He had a watch chain that was adzactly like your'n, and the minute I seen it I said to myself that you was him," said Nels in conclusion.

"We were close upon his heels," continued Mr. Westall. "We arrived here the next morning, about four hours after he left, and when we told Jeff and his friends what a neat trick had been played upon them, they became not only angry but very suspicious."

"Unreasonably suspicious," added Rodney, in a tone of disgust. "Does Jeff or anybody else suppose for a moment that I would have come back to this camp if I had been in Percival's place?"

"That was what beat my time and I said so," answered Nels. "I never would have suspicioned you if it hadn't been for that watch chain of your'n, and the story you told about not knowing the country around Springfield. The captain of the Mollie Able said you was one of Price's men, and we took it for granted that you had been riding with him. But I am satisfied now."

"I am glad to hear it," answered Rodney "But, Mr. Westall, it can't be possible that you will stand by and see this young fellow punished, when you know him to be innocent of the crime with which you have charged him?"

"No; I don't reckon I'll stand by and see it because I have sorter taken a shine to him, even if he is a traitor," answered the Emergency man. "There'll be enough to attend to the business without any of my help."

"And he will be hung, I suppose?"

"He'll never stick his meddlesome Union nose into our settlement again, I'll bet you on that," replied Mr. Westall, knocking the ashes from his pipe and showing quite plainly by his manner that he did not care to answer any more questions. "I can't understand why the folks living down Springfield way didn't attend to his case long ago, and save us the trouble."

So saying the Emergency man arose to his feet and went after his blanket, which had been left outside the door with his saddle, and the movement was taken by the others as a signal that it was time to go to bed. Rodney's blankets were in his trunk, but he was not ready to take them out just then. He followed Mr. Westall out of the door, believing that the latter would be sure to visit Tom's prison before retiring for the night.

"I must find out where that corn-crib is, for I shall want to go to it before morning," said Rodney to himself. "And then there are the dogs, which I should like to have see and scent me before I go prowling around among them. Tom's got to have help this very night or he is just as good as a dead cadet."

Mr. Westall undid the blanket which was strapped behind his saddle, tossed it into the cabin and then stretched his arms and yawned as if he were very tired and sleepy.

"I am used to the saddle," said he, as Rodney came out of the cabin and approached the place where he was standing, "but I must say that that young fellow has given me a hard pull. He must be made of iron, for he doesn't seem to mind it at all. Let's go and see how he is getting on. I want to make sure that he is safe before I go to sleep."

"Don't you think this is a cold-blooded, heartless way to treat a boy who has never done you any harm?" inquired Rodney, stooping down to caress first one and then another of the large pack of dogs which came trooping up the minute the cabin door was opened. "Have you a son about the same age?"

"That's neither here nor there," replied Mr. Westall; and Rodney thought from the nervous, jerky manner in which he faced about and started for the corn-crib, that the words had touched him in a tender spot. "Suppose I have; what then? If he so far forgets the training he has received ever since he was old enough to know anything, let him take the consequences."

"You say that young Percival's father is strong for the Union," continued Rodney. "If that is the case, didn't he train up his son in the way he wanted him to go? No doubt he is just as honest in his opinions as we are."

"Honest!" repeated Mr. Westall, in a tone of contempt. "Can a man honestly hold opinions that make him a traitor to his State? Percival is on the wrong side, but that is no fault of ours. We can't and won't have traitors in our midst preaching up their doctrines and organizing military companies. Why, do you know that they have bushwhacked scores of our men all over the State – called them to the door of their homes and shot them down like dogs, or popped them over while they were riding quietly along the road? You are a partisan, are you? You don't know the meaning of the word; but if you will go home with me I will teach it to you in less than a week."

If Rodney had given utterance to his honest sentiments he would have told Mr. Westall, in pretty plain language, that he would face about and go to his own home again before he would be that kind of a partisan. Shaking his fist under a Union boy's nose and fighting him on the parade ground was one thing, and shooting him down in cold blood was another. But he did not have time to make any reply, for just as Mr. Westall ceased speaking they reached the corn-crib.

"All right in there?" said the Emergency man, laying hold of the door and giving it a shake; and as he did so, Rodney took note of the fact that it opened as much as an inch and a half, so that if the prisoner on the inside had anything with which he could reach through the crack and throw the bar out of its place, he need not stay there a moment longer than he wanted to. "Will one blanket be enough to keep you warm?"

"I don't call this fish-net a blanket," replied Tom's voice. "I suppose it will have to do, if you are so poor you can't give me anything better. But this is a cold, cheerless place to shove a fellow into without any fire or light."

"It's plenty good enough for a traitor," answered Mr. Westall, with a coarse laugh; and then he turned about and led the way back to the cabin.

Two of the Emergency men and all the wood-cutters had come out to "take a look at the weather," and make up their minds whether or not the steamer they heard coming up the river below the bend was going to stop at the landing for fuel, and while Rodney listened to their conversation he walked about with his hands in his pockets, and kicked listlessly at the chips and sticks that were scattered around the log on which Jeff and his men cut their fire-wood. Finally he picked up one of the sticks and began cutting it with his knife; and a little later, when he thought no one was observing his movements, he shoved the stick into the sleeve of his coat. This much being done he was ready to make a demonstration in Tom Percival's favor.

"By the way, Jeff," said he, suddenly. "While you are waiting for that steamer to make up her mind if she wants any wood or not, will you tell me where I can find my horse? I always make it a point to say goodnight to him before I go to bed."

Resting one hand on the boy's shoulder Jeff pointed with the other, and showed him the building in which the roan colt had been placed under cover.

"The dogs won't bother me, will they?" asked Rodney.

"Oh, no. You've been round amongst 'em and they know you."

Rodney posted off, and Jeff saw him disappear through the door of the cabin that had been pointed out to him; but he was not looking, that way when Rodney came out a moment later, and with noiseless steps and form half bent directed his course toward Tom Percival's prison. His face wore a determined look, and his right hand, which was thrust into the pocket of his sack coat, firmly clutched his revolver. He knew that he must succeed in what he was about to attempt or die in his tracks, for if he were detected, he would stand as good a chance of being hanged as Tom himself. But there were no signs of wavering or hesitation about him. He drew a bee-line for the back of the corn-crib, and began looking for the places where the chinking had fallen out. It did not take him many minutes to find one, and then he set about attracting Tom's attention by pulling the stick from his sleeve, and rubbing it back and forth through one of the cracks. The movement was successful. There was a slight rustling among the corn-husks inside the cabin, and a second later the prisoner laid hold of the stick.

"All right," whispered Tom. "I was looking for you, and I know what this stick is for, Shake."

The boys tried to bring their hands together, but the opening between the logs was so narrow that the best they could do was to interlock some of their fingers.

"Here," whispered Rodney, pushing his revolver through the crack butt first. '; Take this, you Yankee, and remember that you will surely be hung if you don't get out of here before daylight."

"I hope you are not disarming yourself," said Tom.

"That's all right. This is for Dick Graham's sake and Barrington's; but look out for me if I catch you outside, for I am one of Price's men."

Tom said something in reply, but Rodney did not hear what it was, nor did he think it safe to stop long enough to ask the prisoner to repeat the words. He hastened away from the corn-crib, and when Jeff and Mr. Westall next saw him, he was standing in the stable door pushing back his horse which was trying to follow him out. He was doing more. He was striving with all his will-power to subdue the feelings of excitement and exultation that surged upon him when he thought of what he had done, and what the consequences to him would be if anything happened to excite the suspicions of the hot-headed Confederates who had him completely in their power.

"If they do anything to me and Tom finds it out, he will make some of them suffer if he ever gets the chance," thought the Barrington boy, as he closed the door of the stable and walked back to the wood pile. "But what good will that do me when I am dead and gone? I declare I begin to feel as Dick Graham did: Dog-gone State Rights anyhow."

It was with no slight feelings of anxiety that Rodney Gray joined the group of men around the wood yard; but fortunately there was no light in the cabin other than that given out by the blaze in the fire-place, and if his face bore any trace of excitement, as he was certain it did, nobody noticed it. The steamer did not stop at the landing, and when she passed on up the river, the wood-cutters and their guests went into the cabin and closed the door. Then Rodney opened his trunk and brought out his blankets, taking care to spread them as far from the door as he could, so that when Tom's escape was discovered, no one could reasonably suspect him of having slipped out during the night and set him free.

"Good-night, everybody," said he cheerfully, as he laid himself upon his hard couch. "I have made two mistakes – two big mistakes," he added, as he drew his head under the blankets. "I forgot to warn Tom to look out for the dogs (but being a Southerner he ought to know enough for that without being told), and I ought not to have said so much in his favor to Mr. Westall. Now that I think of it, that was a fearful blunder, and it may be the means of bringing trouble to me. Well, I can't help it. I detest Tom's principles and would be glad to see them thrashed out of him; but when it comes to hanging him for something he didn't do – that's carrying things just a little too far. There's not a wink of sleep for me this night."

But, contrary to his expectations, Rodney fell asleep in less than half an hour and slumbered soundly until he was awakened by one of the Emergency men, who made considerable noise in punching up the fire. Mr. Westall was also aroused. Raising himself on his elbow he said, drowsily:

"That you, Harvey? Have you been out to look at that friend of ours in the corn-crib?"

"I have, and found him all right."

"Did you simply speak to him, or did you go in where he was?"

"I took a piece of fat wood from this fire and went in where he was," replied Harvey. "He was covered up head and ears, but I saw his boots sticking out from under the blanket."

"What time is it?"

"Two o'clock of a clear, starlight morning, and all's well," answered Harvey; and this made it plain that if he was not a soldier he was learning to be one, for he knew how to pass the sentry's call.

"Well; of all the dunderheads I ever heard of that Tom Percival is the biggest," thought Rodney, who had never in his life been more astounded. "Two o'clock in the morning and he lying fast asleep there in the corn-crib when he ought to be miles away! If I had known he was going to act like that, I would have seen him happy before I would have risked my neck trying to save his."

Rodney turned over on the other side with an angry flop and tried to go to sleep again; but that was quite out of the question. He could do nothing but rail at Tom for his stupidity, and wonder if the latter would have sense enough to hide the revolver before Mr. Westall or some other Emergency man went into his prison in the morning to bring him out. Two other men got up and left the cabin before day-light, and the Barrington boy knew they visited the corn-crib, for he heard their footsteps as they were going and returning; but as they both brought a few sticks of wood with them and mended the fire without saying a word, Rodney was forced to the conclusion that Tom was still safe in his prison.

Jeff, who was an early riser, was stirring long before the first signs of coming dawn could be seen through the numerous cracks in the walls of the cabin, and when he got out of his bunk it was a signal to all his men, who were prompt to follow his example. The Emergency men and Rodney arose also, for of course it was useless to think of sleeping longer with so many pairs of heavy boots pounding the dirt floor on which their blankets were spread. One of the wood-cutters set off for the river with a bucket in each hand to bring water for cooking and washing purposes, others went to feed the stock, and Nels, at Mr. Westall's request, went to arouse Tom Percival.

"No doubt he will enjoy the fire after passing the night in that cold corn-crib," said the Emergency man, spreading his hands over the cheerful blaze upon the wide hearth. "But whether or not he will enjoy the society into which he will be thrown before he has another chance to sleep, is a different matter altogether."

"And I think I should enjoy a little exercise," chimed in Rodney. "I am not much of a chopper, but perhaps I can get up an appetite for breakfast."

So saying he went out into the wood yard and caught up an axe. His object was not to get up an appetite (being in the best of health he always had that), but to place himself where he could see his old schoolmate when he was brought out of his prison. He would have given something handsome if he could have had a chance to ask Tom what his object was in staying in that corn-crib after he had been provided with the means of getting out, and a revolver with which to defend himself, but was obliged to content himself with the reflection that he had done all he could, and that if Tom wanted help he would have to look for it somewhere else.

"I wonder if he thinks the Union men at Pilot Knob will rescue him when he is brought there?" thought Rodney, as he swung the axe in the air. "If he is depending upon them, why did he run away from the settlement in the first place? What was the reason he – "

Rodney, who had kept one eye on Nels, paused with his axe suspended in the air and looked at the corn-crib. He saw the man throw down the bar and open the door, and heard him when he shouted:

"Come out of that and pay your lodging. We can't afford to keep a free hotel when bacon is getting so scarce that we can't even steal it. Out you come."

Rodney listened but did not hear any answer. Neither did Nels. The latter bent forward, stretched out his neck and seemed to be intently regarding something on the inside of the cabin. Then he straightened up and marched in with a vicious air, as if he was resolved that he would not stand any more fooling. He was gone not more than a minute, and then he came back with a jump and a whoop, holding Jeff's tattered blanket in one hand and a pair of well-worn boots in the other.

"Wake snakes!" yelled Nels, striking up a war-dance and frantically flourishing the captured articles over his head. "He's skipped, that hoss-thief has! He's lit out, I tell ye!"

Almost at the same moment the wood-cutter who had gone out to attend to the stock appeared at the door of the stable and called out to Rodney:

"Say, you Louisanner fellar, where's your critter?" And then he stopped and looked at Nels. "Do you say the prisoner has lit out?" he shouted. "Then he's done took another hoss to holp him on his way."

"If he has taken mine he has got the best horse in the State," exclaimed Rodney, dropping his axe and starting posthaste for the stable. "You might as well give up now, Mr. Westall, for the colt is Copper-bottom stock and can travel for twenty-four hours at a stretch."

Again Rodney told himself that he had never been more astonished. He was delighted, too, to find that his friend had not forgotten the tricks he had learned at the Barrington Military Academy. He had not only arranged a "dummy" in the dark – making so good a job of it, too, that the man Harvey, with the light of a pine knot to aid him, had not been able to discover the cheat but he had left his boots sticking out from under the blanket and gone off in his stocking feet. But why had he taken Rodney's horse instead of his own? It was all right, of course, for a fair exchange was no robbery, but Rodney would have liked to have had that question answered.

"It seems that Jeff's dogs are not worth the powder it would take to blow them up," said he to Mr. Westall, who had followed close at his heels. "Your man has gone off with my horse, and I don't believe you have a nag in your party that can catch him. Now what's to be done?"

"I was a plumb dunce for placing any dependence on those dogs," replied the Emergency man, as soon as his surprise and anger would permit him to speak. "I might have known that they would not pay the slightest attention to Percival after they had seen him with us about the camp. Nels, was there anything in or around the corn-crib to show how he got out?"

"Not the first that I could see," answered the wood-cutter. "The bar was in its place, and when I opened the door I was as certain as I could be that I saw him laying there on the shucks with his feet sticking out. When I called and he didn't say nothing, I thought I would go in and snatch him up off'n them shucks in a way that would learn him not to play 'possum on me ary 'nother time; but when I snatched I didn't get nothing but the blanket and empty boots."

"Harvey, he must have been gone when you went in there with your light," said Mr. Westall, reproachfully. "No doubt he threw the bar up with his hand, and his object in closing the door after him was to hide his escape as long as possible. If he went about midnight he has nearly six hours the start of us, on a swift horse and along a road he knows like a book. Let's go home, boys. We've done the best we could, but next time we'll try and be a little sharper."

While this conversation was going on Rodney had leisure to recover his composure, and was not a little relieved to see that there were no side-long glances cast toward himself. Mr. Westall seemed to think that he alone was to blame for the prisoner's escape, his four companions were quite willing that he should shoulder the responsibility, and no one thought of suspecting Rodney Gray.

"I am short a good horse by last night's work, and suppose I shall have to take Percival's to replace him, won't I?" said the latter. "It's that or go afoot, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is," replied the Emergency man.

"What sort of an animal is he and where is he?" continued Rodney. "I should like to have a look at him."

"He's out in the yard with the rest of the critters," said Nels. "I thought it best to keep yours in the shed because, being a stranger, the others might have fell to kicking him if they had all been turned in together."

"You did perfectly right," answered Rodney, who thought the man was trying to excuse himself for having put the roan colt where he could be so easily stolen. "And that's the reason Tom took him," he added, mentally. "If he had gone into the yard after his own nag, the others would have snorted and raised a fuss, and that would have started the dogs and prevented his escape. It's all right, but I would rather have my horse than that one."

The steed that was pointed out to him as the property of the escaped prisoner was a fine looking animal, and the fact that he had led his pursuers so long a chase, proved that he was not only a "goer" but a "stayer" as well; but for all that Rodney wished his friend Tom had thought it safe to take him and leave the roan colt.

"I have very serious objections to riding that horse through the counties back of here," said he at length. "He is too well known; and how do I know but that somebody will bounce me for a horse-thief?"

"That's a most disagreeable fact," said Mr. Westall, reflectively. "We gave a description of him to every man and boy we met along the road."

"That is just what I was afraid of. Can't you give me a trade for him?"

"I don't see how we can, for if we should take the horse back to the settlement with us, the folks there would be sure to ask how we came to get him without getting the thief, too; see?"

"Well, could you give me a bill of sale of him?" asked the boy, after thinking a moment.

"When I don't own a dollar's worth of interest in him?" exclaimed the Emergency man, opening his eyes. "Not much I couldn't. I tell you, young fellow, a horse is a mighty ticklish piece of property to have in these parts unless you can prove a clear claim to him."

"I want some sort of a paper to show to our friends along the road, don't I?" exclaimed Rodney, who began to think that his chances for seeing Price's army were getting smaller all the time.

"Oh, that's what you want, is it?" said Mr. Westall. "Well, I'll tell you what we'll do: You ride with us as far as the road where we turn off to go to Pilot Knob, and then I will give you a letter that will help you if you happen to fall in with any of our side; but you must be careful to know the men before you show the letter to them, for if you should pull it on a Union man, you would get yourself into trouble. Now let's get a bite to eat and start for home."

This made it evident that the Emergency man had become discouraged with his ill-luck, and did not intend to follow Tom Percival any farther.