Part 10 (2/2)

”But Mr. Westall, just look at the chain,” protested Jeff.

”But, Mr. West-all, just look at the chain,” protested Jeff.

”Well, look at the chain. You're a Jackson man, I suppose?” he added, nodding at Rodney.

”Every day in the week,” replied the boy. ”And that's what brought me up here from Louisiana. I belong to a company of partisans; but our Governor wouldn't take us the way we wanted to go, and here I am. I want to find Price as soon as I can. Run your eye over that telegram, if you please, and then read this letter.”

While the man, who had been addressed as Mr. Westall, was reading the doc.u.ments Rodney pa.s.sed over to him, his four companions came into the cabin bringing with them a fifth, at the sight of whom Rodney Gray started as if he had been shot.

CHAPTER VII.

THE EMERGENCY MEN.

”Great Scott!” was Rodney Gray's mental e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n. ”That is Tom Percival if I ever saw him.”

If his own father had suddenly been brought into the cabin a prisoner in the hands of armed men, the Barrington boy could not have been more amazed. He winked hard and looked again, but his eyes had not deceived him; and even if there had been the slightest doubt in his mind regarding the ident.i.ty of the prisoner who had been denounced as ”an abolition horse-thief,” it would have vanished when he saw the expression that came upon Tom's face the moment their eyes met. Tom was one of d.i.c.k Graham's firm friends, but while a student at the Barrington Academy he had often declared that if d.i.c.k ever so far forgot himself as to enlist in the rebel army, he (Tom) would go into the Union service on purpose to whip him back into a proper frame of mind; and his being there a prisoner led Rodney to believe that he had kept his promise, so far as enlisting was concerned. But there was one thing about it: Tom might be a Union soldier, but he was neither an abolitionist nor a horse-thief.

”It is Percival, sure enough, but what in the name of sense and Tom Walker is he doing here?” was the next question that came into Rodney's mind.

His first impulse was to seize his old schoolmate by the hand, proclaim his friends.h.i.+p for him and a.s.sure Mr. Westall and the rest that they had committed the worst kind of a blunder-that they had made as great a mistake in arresting this boy for a horse-thief, as Nels and his fellow wood-cutters had made in suspecting him of being Tom Percival, simply because he happened to have in his possession a watch chain that somewhat resembled Tom's. But two things restrained him; the first was the reflection that by following this course he would put it entirely out of his power to help Tom if the opportunity was offered, and the second was the way in which Tom himself looked and acted. He didn't appear to know Rodney at all. The expression of joy and surprise that first overspread his countenance vanished as if by magic, and from that time forward he gave as little attention to his old friend as he might have given to an utter stranger. Rodney was quick to take the hint and governed himself accordingly.

”Percival always did have a level head on his shoulders,” said the latter, resuming his seat upon the nail keg and placing himself as far as possible out of reach of Tom's gaze, ”and he's got more pluck than any other fellow I ever saw. He needs it, poor fellow, if Captain Howard told the truth when he said that every little community in the State is divided into two hostile camps. But his father owns slaves, and Tom never stole a horse.”

It so happened that all the inmates of the cabin were too much interested in what Mr. Westall was doing to notice the swift glance of recognition that pa.s.sed between the two boys when Tom Percival was brought in. They were waiting to hear what he had to say regarding the papers Rodney had given him to read.

”I suppose you are acting is a sort of advance agent for your company to see what arrangements you can make with General Price?” said Mr. Westall at length.

”No, sir. I am acting on my own hook, and without any regard to the course the company may see fit to take,” replied Rodney. ”The members don't want to be sworn into the service of the Confederate States, and the proposition to leave Louisiana in a body and offer ourselves to Price, was voted down. I do not know what the rest of the boys will do, but I am going to join the Missouri State militia if they will take me.”

”Oh, they'll take you fast enough,” said Mr. Westall, with a laugh.

”They have already taken everybody they can get their hands on without stopping to inquire what State he is from. We five are some of Jeff Thompson's Emergency men.”

”I don't think I ever heard of such men,” said Rodney doubtfully.

”Probably not. You don't need them down in Louisiana, and we may not have much use for them here; though, to judge from the exploits of this young man Percival, we may be called out oftener than we expected to be.”

Rodney hoped that Mr. Westall would go on to tell what his friend Tom had been guilty of to get himself into such a sc.r.a.pe, and what they intended doing with him now that they had got him into their power; but in this he was disappointed. The man handed back Mr. Graham's telegram with the remark that he had never heard of a person of that name, and then proceeded to read the letter of introduction, which was addressed to a well-known Confederate of the name of Perkins, who lived somewhere in the neighborhood of Springfield.

”I am acquainted with this man Perkins in a business way,” said Mr. Westall, after he had run his eye over the letter, ”and know him to be strong for Jeff Davis and the cause of Southern independence. He will treat you as though you were one of the royal blood if you can only get to him; but there's the trouble. He lives in the southwestern part of the State, and that's a right smart piece from here.”

”I know it; but I have a good horse somewhere outside,” answered Rodney.

”So I supposed; but you can't depend upon your horse to tell you whether you are talking to a Yankee sympathizer or an honest Confederate, can you? The ride won't amount to anything, but you have a tough bit of country to go through. Your short experience right here among friends will serve to show you how very suspicious everybody is. We don't trust our nearest neighbors any more, and so you can imagine what we think of a stranger, especially if he happens to own a watch chain that looks something like one that is worn by a horse-thief,” said Mr. Westall, smiling at the boy as he handed his property back to him. ”Now, Jeff, how could you have made such a mistake? Can't you see that they don't at all resemble each other?”

”Now that I see them together I can,” was Jeff's answer. ”But don't he look a trifle as that thief might look if his duds was changed and his whiskers took off?”

Rodney thought from the first that his old schoolmate did not look just as he did the last time he saw him, and now he knew the reason. To a very slight mustache Tom Percival, since leaving the Barrington Academy, had added a pair of what the students would have called ”side-boards;” but they were so very scant that they could not by any possibility be looked upon as a disguise. Mr. Westall laughed at the idea.

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