Rodney The Partisan Part 9

"The very best thing I can do for you," said he, "is to set you ash.o.r.e at Cedar Bluff landing."

Rodney was surprised, but it was clear to him that the captain knew who he was and where he wanted to go.

"There are only a few people who live there, and they are princ.i.p.ally wood-cutters," continued the skipper. "But they are true as steel, and you can trust them with your life. I have bought wood of them for years and know them like a book. I will go ash.o.r.e with you and give you a good send-off. We shall get there about ten o'clock to-night."

Rodney opened his lips to thank the captain for his kindness, but he was gone. The old steamboat-man sympathized with the South, and Captain Howard and his friends had found it out, and induced him to do what he could to help Rodney escape the expectant Yankee cotton-factor at St. Louis. The boy laughed aloud when he thought how astonished and angry Tom Randolph would be to learn that he had wasted time and telegrams to no purpose. He pa.s.sed the rest of the day in company with Captain Howard and his friends, nearly all of whom held some position of trust under the new government, and at nine o'clock, in obedience to a significant wink and nod from the skipper, he went below and put the saddle and bridle on his horse. Just then the whistle sounded for Cedar Bluff landing, and some of the pa.s.sengers came down to bid him good-by and see him safely ash.o.r.e.

"A boy with your ability and pluck ought to make his mark in the service, and I wish I could keep track of you," said Captain Howard, giving Rodney's hand a cordial shake. "But I shall most likely be ordered East, hundreds of miles away from here, and possibly I may never hear of you again; but I shall often think of you. Good-by, and good luck."

This was the way in which all his new friends took leave of him, and if good wishes were all that were needed to bring him safely through, Rodney would have had no fears of the future. When the Mollie Able's bow touched the bank and a line had been thrown out, a gang-plank was shoved ash.o.r.e, and the skipper came down from the hurricane deck to give his pa.s.senger a "send-off." The blazing torch, which one of the deck-hands had placed in the steamer's bow, threw a flickering light upon half a dozen long-haired, roughly dressed men who had been brought to the bank by the sound of the whistle, and who gazed in surprise when they saw a stout negro coming off with Rodney's trunk on his shoulder, followed by Rodney himself, who was leading the roan colt. It wasn't often that a pa.s.senger was landed in that out-of-the-way place.

"Set the trunk down anywhere, Sam, and go aboard. A word with you, Jeff," said the Mollie Able's captain, beckoning to the tallest and roughest looking man in the party. "Where's Price?"

"Dunno. Jeff Thompson has just been round behind the Cape pulling up the railroad, but some of the Yankee critter-fellers went out there and run him off," replied the long-haired Missourian. "Last I heared of Price he was down about the Arkansas line."

(The "Cape" referred to was the town of Cape Girardeau, and the "critter-fellers" were the Union cavalry which at that time garrisoned the place. The "Arkansas line" was the southwestern part of Missouri where Price raised his army, which grew in numbers the nearer he marched with it to the Missouri River).

"That's bad news for my young friend here," said the captain of the Mollie Able. "Springfield is off in that direction, and that's right where he wants to go. He is one of Price's men, and is anxious to find his commander. Say, Jeff, you take care of him and see him safely on his way, and I'll make it all right with you when I stop for my next load of wood."

"It's all right now, cap'n," answered Jeff. "He'll be safe as long as he stays here, seeing that he's a friend of your'n, but when he gets back in the country-I dunno; I dunno."

The steamboat captain didn't know either, but he couldn't stop to talk about it. He had done the best he could to keep Rodney out of the clutches of that Yankee cotton-factor in St. Louis, and now the boy must look out for himself. He gave the latter's hand a hasty shake, told him to keep a stiff upper lip and give a good account of himself when he met the Lincoln invaders in battle, and shouted to the deck-hands to "let go and haul in." The steamer gave him a parting salute from her whistle as she backed out into the river, Captain Howard and his friends on the boiler deck waved their hands to him, and Rodney was left alone with the wood-choppers. A Northern boy would not have been at all pleased with the situation, for they were a rough looking set, and probably there was not one among them who did not plume himself upon his skill as a fighter; but Rodney was not afraid of them, for he had seen such men before.

"One of you fellers put that hoss under kiver, and stranger, you come with me," said Jeff, raising Rodney's trunk from the ground and placing it upon his shoulder. "It's little we've got to offer you, and you look as though you might be used to good living; but you're welcome to such as we've got, and we're glad to see you. Now we'd like to have you tell us, if you can, what all this here furse is about," he went on, when he had conducted his guest into a log cabin that stood at the top of the bank, and deposited the trunk beside the open fire-place. "What made them abolitionists come down here all of a sudden to take our n.i.g.g.e.rs away from us?"

"Because they are envious-jealous of our prosperity," replied Rodney, drawing up a nail keg and seating himself upon it. "They have to work every day and we don't; and that's what's the matter with them. They don't care a cent for the negroes. They used to own slaves themselves."

All the wood-choppers, with the exception of the one who had taken it upon himself to "put the hoss under kiver," had followed Jeff and Rodney into the cabin, and they were profoundly astonished by the last words that fell from the boy's lips. It was a matter of history that was quite new to them.

"Where be them slaves now?" asked Jeff.

"They were given their freedom."

"Well, I always knowed them Yankees was fules, but I don't for the life of me see what they done that fur."

"Oh, it wasn't because they were sorry for the negro," exclaimed Rodney. "It was because they couldn't use him. They would have slaves to-day if they could make a dollar by it. You let the Yanks alone for that. Why, when these troubles began, we didn't have percussion caps enough to fight a battle with, and Captain Semmes went up North and bought a big supply; and the men of whom he bought them knew what he was going to do with them, and offered to make contracts with him to send him all he wanted and could pay for."

"What's the reason they couldn't use the n.i.g.g.e.rs up there?" asked one of the woodchoppers.

"Because their land is mostly mountains and rocks, and they can't work it on as a big a scale as we do," replied Rodney, trying to use language that his ignorant auditors could readily understand. "They gain their living by catching codfish and herring, and by making things, such as shoes for the n.i.g.g.e.rs, and cloth and axes and machinery and-Oh, everything. And the blacks couldn't do that sort of work so that their owners could make anything out of them, and that's the reason they let them go free."

"And because they can't use the n.i.g.g.e.rs do they say that we-uns musn't use 'em nuther?" demanded Jeff, angrily.

"That's it exactly," said Rodney. "They are dogs in the manger. They can't eat the hay themselves and they won't let the critters eat it."

Although the wood-choppers didn't quite understand this, it was plain enough to the Barrington boy that they were impressed by his words.

"And what are we-uns going to do about it?" inquired Jeff, after a little pause.

"We're going to dissolve partners.h.i.+p with them-break up the firm and go into business for ourselves," replied Rodney, throwing so much enthusiasm into his words that he succeeded in creating some excitement among the wood-choppers. One, in particular, was so deeply interested that he pulled his nail keg close in front of the speaker; but whether he was listening to his words, or making a mental calculation of the value of his gold watch chain, Rodney did not think to inquire.

"And do they say that we-uns mustn't do it?" Jeff demanded.

"You've hit it again," was Rodney's reply. "That is just what they do say; and they say, further, that they won't give us our share of the goods. See how they hung on to that fort in Charleston Harbor until our gallant fellows made them give it up? That fort belonged to South Carolina; but when she broke up the firm, by which I mean the Union, the Yanks wouldn't give it up. Who ever heard of such impudence?"

"I never," answered Jeff. "We did lick 'em sure enough, didn't we?"

"Of course we did, and that isn't the worst of it. We're going to whip them as often as we get a chance at them. But what am I talking about. The Yankees won't fight."

"Didn't they have a sorter rucus up in St. Louis?"

"Those were not Yankees. They were Dutchmen-old country soldiers, who don't know enough about war to keep them from shooting into their own men. Who's afraid of such soldiers?"

"We're mighty glad you stopped off here, stranger," said Jeff, at length. "We didn't rightly know what all the furse was about, and there wasn't n.o.body who could tell us, because the steamboat cap'ns who come here for wood couldn't wait to talk about it. But we know now, and I do think that some on us had oughter have a hand in making them Yankees stay where they b'long. I'd go in a minute if it wasn't fur the ole woman and the young ones."

"I aint got none of them things to hold me back, and I'll go in your place, Jeff," said one of the wood-cutters. It was the man who had drawn his seat close in front of Rodney, and seemed to be so much interested in the boy's watch chain.

"Will you go with me and join Price?" asked the latter, eagerly.

"I reckon I might as well," replied the man.

"Do you know the country?"

"Well, no; I can't say that I do. But I know where to look to find the road that runs from Jackson to Hartsville, forty miles this side of Springfield, and when you get there, mebbe you'll know where you are."

"No, I won't," answered Rodney. "I have never been in this part of Missouri before. I have been in St. Louis two or three times, but when I got out of sight of the Planters' House I was lost completely."

"Why, didn't the cap'n of the Mollie Able tell Jeff that you was one of Price's men? How could you have jined him if you haven't been where he was?"

Rodney did not at all like the tone in which this question was asked, and it was right on the end of his tongue to tell the wood-cutter that it was none of his business; but on second thought he decided that that wouldn't do. The man talked and acted as if he suspected him of something; and if the others suspected him too, they might make trouble for him. The steamboat captain did say that he was one of Price's men, and Rodney wished now that he hadn't done it.

"I suppose I could arrange all that by letter or telegraph, couldn't I?" was the answer he made, as he produced his note book and took from it the dispatch he had received from d.i.c.k Graham's father, and one of the letters of introduction that had been given to him by Captain Howard. These he pa.s.sed over to the suspicious wood-cutter, rightly believing that the latter could not read a word of them. "You will see that that telegram reads, 'Price will accept,'" continued Rodney. "I belong to a company of Rangers that was raised down the river, and at my captain's request I telegraphed to Price inquiring if he would take us and let us operate on our own hook, and he said he would. Read it for yourself. What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing much."

"You see," explained Jeff, who during this conversation had sat with his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes fastened upon the floor, "things is getting sorter ticklish down here in this neck of the woods already. n.o.body don't know who he can trust."

"Don't you believe what the Able's captain said about me?" inquired Rodney, who had little dreamed that he would become an object of suspicion almost as soon as he set his foot on Missouri soil. "He told me you were true blue."

"And so we are, when we know the feller we're talking to." said the man who was sitting in front of him, and whom he afterward heard addressed as Nels. "Now I want you to answer me a few questions: where did you board the Mollie Able?"

Rodney, who was not at all used to this sort of thing, began to grow red in the face, but fortunately he did not hesitate an instant.

"I got on at Baton Rouge," he said.

"Is that place this side of Cairo?"

"No; it is the other side."