Part 14 (1/2)
”What kind of a fellow are you, anyhow?” exclaimed Mr. Westall, who stood by listening. ”Do you mean to say that you have come up here, intending to ride through these turbulent settlements, without bringing along something to defend yourself with?”
”That is the most dangerous article I have about me,” answered Rodney, putting his hand into his pocket and drawing out the big jack-knife Lieutenant Odell had given him the day before he left home. At the same time he wondered what the Emergency man would have said and done if he had been aware that the boy to whom he was talking had brought a revolver with him, and that he had given it to Tom Percival to defend himself in case he was attacked.
”I never heard of a more foolish piece of business,” exclaimed Mr. Westall, with an air which said very plainly that he had no patience with such a fellow as Rodney Gray was. ”What sort of people did you think you were going to meet, I should like to know. I suppose you have heard that there are Northern sympathizers in this State, and that they are about the meanest folks you will find on top of the earth?”
”I have heard all about it; but I supposed that I should find our own people in the majority. This is a Southern State, isn't it?”
”In some places they are in the majority and in some they are not,” replied Mr. Westall. ”Of course this is a Southern State; but don't you know that those Dutchmen in St. Louis have gone back on Governor Jackson, and that he and the members of the legislature have had to run for their lives? Why, boy, you may be called upon to defend yourself in less than an hour after we leave you. Got a revolver to spare, Jeff?”
”Aint got none of that sort,” replied the wood-cutter. ”There aint nothing but rifles in the shanty.”
”Then I shall be obliged to let you have one of mine,” said the Emergency man, taking a belt down from a peg beside the door, and drawing an ancient Colt from one of the holsters. ”I may be able to replace it some time or other; but whether I am or not, you mustn't think of starting for Springfield without a weapon where you can put your hand on it. It is rather large and heavy for your pocket and you have no belt; so you will have to shove it into your boot leg. That's as handy a place to carry it as any I know of.”
When both parties are willing to trade it does not take them long to come to an understanding, and in a very short time some of Rodney's gold went into Mr. Westall's pocket, and the revolver into the leg of the boy's boot. In ten minutes more the horses had been brought out of the yard and prepared for the journey, Rodney placing his own saddle and bridle on his new steed, and leaving Tom's for Jeff to dispose of in any way he saw proper.
”I reckon I'm just that much ahead of the hounds,” said the wood-cutter, with a grin. ”That hoss-thief won't never dare to come after his saddle, and mebbe it'll bring me in a few dollars for tobacker. Farewell, and be sure and drop in as often as you come this way. Look out for yourself, you Louisanner feller.”
The path that ran through the woods to the big road leading from Cape Girardeau to Lesterville, the place where Rodney's companions would take leave of him and turn toward Ironton, was all of three miles long, and so narrow that they were obliged to ride in a single file. Mr. Westall remarked, with a careless laugh, that it was a good thing for them that the people living in the vicinity were mostly Confederates, for the woods on each side of the path were thick, and would afford the nicest kind of cover for a bushwhacking party.
”I suppose there are plenty of Union people between here and your settlement?” observed Rodney.
”Lots of 'em; and they are not only dead shots, but they know every hog path in the woods and are as sneaking and sly as so many Indians. They'll fight, too. We know that to be a fact, for we've got some of them for near neighbors.”
”Then perhaps it is just as well that you have me instead of Percival with you,” said Rodney. ”If you had taken him a prisoner to Pilot k.n.o.b, what a.s.surance have you that you would not have been bushwhacked on the way?”
”None whatever; but we would have been willing to take our chances on it.”
The Emergency man spoke carelessly enough, but Rodney noticed that he had not neglected to make preparations for a fight. The single revolver his belt contained had been transferred to the night holster, and the strap that usually pa.s.sed over the hammer to keep the weapon in place, had been unb.u.t.toned so that the heavy Colt could be drawn in an instant. This made Rodney feel rather uneasy. Perhaps he would not have been so very frightened at the prospect of a fair stand-up fight, but the fear that somebody might cut loose on him or some member of his party with a double-barrel shotgun before any of them knew there was danger near, was more than his nerves could stand. He was glad when they left the woods behind and rode out into the highway; but it wasn't half an hour before he had occasion to tell himself that when the Emergency men took leave of him and turned off toward their own settlement, the woods would be the safest place for him. They were riding along two abreast, Mr. Westall and Rodney leading the way, when, as they came suddenly to a narrow cross-road, they found themselves face to face with a long-haired, unkempt native mounted on the leanest, hungriest mule Rodney had ever seen. He rode bare-back, his spine bent almost in the form of a half circle, his body swaying back and forth, and with every step his beast took he pounded its sides with the heels of his boots-not with the object of inducing the mule to quicken its pace, but because the motion had become a habit with him. He was surprised and startled when he found himself so close to the Emergency men, and partly raised the muzzle of the heavy double-barrel shotgun he carried in front of him; but a second glance seemed to relieve his fears, for he grinned broadly, and waited for the hors.e.m.e.n to come up.
”Wal, ye got him, didn't ye?” said he; and the words went far to confirm the fear that had haunted Rodney Gray ever since he found that Tom Percival had gone off with the roan colt, leaving his own well-advertised horse behind him. This ignorant backwoodsman, who didn't look as though he knew enough to go in when it rained, had recognized the horse the moment he put his eyes on him.
”Oh, this isn't the man at all, Mister-a-I declare I have disremembered your name,” exclaimed Mr. Westall.
”I don't reckon ye ever knowed it, kase I never seed hide nor hair of none of ye afore this day,” replied the native, with another grin. ”But it's Swanson, if it will do ye any good to hear it. I live back here in the bresh about a couple of milds.”
”How does it come that you are so prompt to recognize us if you never saw us before?” inquired Rodney.
”Oh, I hearn tell that there was some of Jeff Thompson's men riding through the kentry looking for a hoss-thief, and I knowed the hoss when I seen him. But ye say this aint the thief,” answered the native, with an inquiring glance at Mr. Westall.
”That was what I said,” replied the Emergency man. ”He is a friend of ours, belongs to Price, and you want to take a good look at him and the horse too, so that you will know them again if you happen to meet them anywhere on the road.”
And then Mr. Westall went on to tell who Tom Percival was and where he lived, not forgetting to lay a good deal of stress on the statement that he was not only a strong Union man, but a horse-thief as well. This made Rodney angry, but of course he couldn't help himself.
”You want to keep a bright lookout for a young fellow in his stocking feet, riding a bareback roan colt,” said the Emergency man, in conclusion. ”If you fall in with such a chap, you will make something by bringing him to Pilot k.n.o.b settlement and asking for Mr. Westall.”
”I'll keep them words in mind,” replied the native, urging the mule forward by digging him in the ribs with his boot heels.
”You'll have to look in the woods for him,” observed the man Harvey. ”It isn't at all likely that he will keep the road in daylight when he hasn't a thing to defend himself with.”
”I aint thinking about that any more'n I am about him having no boots on,” said the Missourian, looking back over his shoulder. ”There's plenty of mean folks in this kentry that'll give him we'pons and clothes for the asking. If I can't get the drop on to him, I won't say a word to him.”