Chapter III: A Discovery and a Surprise

As Andy Arlington--whose full name, by the way, was, Andrew Jackson Arlington--had said, the trouble between the Northern and the Southern States had been brewing for a long time, and the gathering trouble had brought to the surface many men upon both sides, who were hot-tempered and hasty and the last persons in the world to settle a difficulty of this sort, although in many cases these men thought they were the very persons to settle the difficulty.

In the North these ill-advised persons gathered on the street corners and elsewhere, shouting to liberate the slaves and demanding that war be declared, that they might go south and in a few short weeks put to an end forever the rebel boasting. They were perfectly certain that no war could last more than two or three months at the most, and were equally certain that they could “lick the rebs out of their boots!” When the war with all of its horrors did come these ranting fellows were, in nine cases out of ten, scared out of their wits, and the bloody battle of Bull Run was a nightmare from which they never recovered.

The South also had its share of hot-heads, fellows who were equally certain of immediate victory, and who thought that our great government at Washington could be turned upside down in an equally short space of time. How much of a task they cut out for themselves history has shown.

But there were others in the South who were cooler and more far-seeing, and, feeling that war was slowly but surely approaching, they began to prepare for it, at first in secret and then more and more openly as the time for action drew near. At first Northern business connections were severed, and this accomplished, the leaders began to form military and cavalry companies in their local districts, fitting the men out on the sly and drilling them in unfrequented and out of the way places. Some reports of these doings reached the North, but never, until the actual opening of the war, was it suspected how thorough these preparations had been.

In the district about Lee Run, which, I may as well admit here, is not the real name of the country town with which our opening chapters have had to do, several military companies and one troop of cavalry had thus far been formed, organizations having nothing in common with the regular State militia. Of these companies Mr. Arlington was cognizant, but because of his cork leg and his generally shattered health, he had taken no active part in the work, although joining with the leaders in heart and spirit.

He understood Jacks when spy work was spoken of, but he was satisfied that Louis during his stay at the plantation had discovered nothing of importance. Yet he was now glad the boy was gone, for there was no telling what a day would bring forth.

On and on along the winding turnpike galloped Louis’s faithful steed, named Jess, after a cherished aunt in New York State. The day was cloudy, and on rising the lad had felt that a shower was not far off. He was yet three miles from the next town, situated in Maryland, when it began to rain. At first the drops came down scatteringly, then followed a perfect deluge, and he was glad enough to seek the shelter of a deserted tobacco house, standing on the edge of a large clearing.

He had occupied the shelter for less than three minutes, when, on looking forth from the wide open doors, he saw something which filled him with astonishment not unmixed with dismay. A band of soldiers were approaching, an odd-looking set of men, wearing their ordinary clothing, but each with a gun and bayonet, and a belt with a cartridge box. At the head of the crowd, which numbered probably forty, rode a man named Pickering, the postmaster of Lee Run.

“Left wheel!” came the command, and leaving the roadway the company set out for the tobacco house. Then followed the order: “Double quick!” and on came the men at increased speed.

“They must be some rebel recruits!” was the thought which flashed through Louis’s mind. For a moment he allowed his horse to stand still. Then he wheeled about, dashed out of the rear doors of the tobacco house, and entered a small thicket five hundred feet away.

By the time he had tethered Jess and come down to the edge of the thicket once more, the company of strange soldiers had entered the tobacco house, and having broken ranks, were stamping around shaking off the rain. He wondered if he had been seen, but as no effort was made to trace him, he concluded that he had gotten away without being noticed.

The rain was now coming down more furiously than ever and Louis was quite content to keep off the exposed highway until the storm should abate. As he waited his curiosity arose concerning the strange body of men, and at length, at the risk of being discovered and subjected to harsh criticism, if not to rough handling, he left the thicket and approached the tobacco house from the south side. Here there was no regular opening, but several boards were loose, and through the cracks he could plainly hear and see all that was taking place within.

“Drillin’ to-day didn’t last long,” he heard a soldier close to him remark. “But I reckon it doesn’t matter much--we’ve got the movements down pretty fine.”

“You’re right, Higwin,” came from a comrade. “Captain Pickering knows how to put the fellows through and no mistake.”

“I wonder how long it will be before we’re called on to go to war,” said a third soldier. “I’m tired of this drilling in secret. I wish we could get at the dirty Yankees--we’ll teach ’em a lesson.”

“It won’t be long now, Gosby--with South Carolina seceded. Virginia and North Carolina and the rest will follow in short order, and then the North will have to fight, or give up the reins at Washington.”

“I understand our leaders intend to seize all the forts along the coast,” added another man. “’Twill be a good job done, to my way of thinking.”

“We ought to seize the arsenals, too,” put in the first soldier who had spoken. “If we--Hi, what’s up outside?”

He broke off short, and in company with his companions made a rush for the open doorway, there to behold two of the company in full pursuit of Louis, who was making his way back to the thicket with a speed which would have done credit to a professional runner.

The youth had been somewhat surprised by the sudden appearance of the men. But he had had time enough to back away and run, and he was still thirty yards in advance when the first belt of timber was gained.

“Halt, or I’ll fire!” called out one of the men. His gun was not loaded, but he thought the threat would be sufficient to bring the youth to a stop. But Louis kept on; and in a moment the thicket hid him from view.

Once behind the shelter of the trees, the boy did not diminish his speed, but crashing along through the small brush, soon gained his horse’s side. The tether was untied, he flung himself on the mare’s back, and off they went in a circuitous route for the turnpike. Ere the men who had followed cleared the wood again he was out of sight and hearing.

What he had seen and heard filled his mind with strange thoughts. “They are a newly formed rebel company,” he said to himself. “A rebel company sworn in, no doubt, to fight our government the minute the leaders in the South give the order. I wonder how many more such companies there are down here? No doubt hundreds--and perhaps thousands!”

Feeling that he would have an interesting story to tell when he arrived home, Louis urged forward his horse as rapidly as the muddy road would permit. He soon reached the hamlet of Deems, but the rain had driven every one indoors and he passed on unquestioned. Half a mile outside of the hamlet Jess began to limp, and he alighted to find out the cause of the trouble. A shoe was loose and in such a condition that it must be tightened before the journey could be continued. Under such conditions there was nothing to do but to turn back to Deems and call in the aid of the local blacksmith.

The smithy was soon found, a low, smoke-begrimed place at the lower end of the hamlet. The door was swung open and Louis rode in, to find himself in the presence of the blacksmith and half a dozen boon companions, all of whom had been discussing the war question with all the warmth of their Southern natures.

“I would like to have that shoe fastened,” said Louis, as the blacksmith strode forward to greet him.

“Yes, sir,” was the reply, and the man set to work without delay. Having nothing to do, the youth strode up to one side of the fire at the forge and tried to dry his clothing.

While he stood there the others in the smithy eyed him curiously and the talk lagged and was turned into other channels. Louis had seen one of the men at Lee Run some days before, and this man now whispered something to the others and all eyed the youth sharply. It was evident that they knew he was a Northerner and would treat him accordingly. No effort, however, was made to molest him, but he was made to feel that he was no longer a friend but an enemy. Such was the spirit in the South just before the war, a spirit which speedily found its counterpart in the North.

In a quarter of an hour the shoe was readjusted and Louis handed over the twenty cents asked in payment. He was glad to think he had not been detained longer, and lost no further time in getting on his way. But the halt, brief as it was, was sufficient to bring him into serious trouble, as we shall soon learn.

The trouble came from Sam Jacks and his followers. Chagrined at the failure to find Louis at Mr. Arlington’s plantation, the mountaineer had set off for Deems, to learn if the youth had passed in that direction. Jacks was of the class of men who never forget or forgive a blow, no matter how much deserved, and he was determined to “square accounts” or know the reason why. The men with him were a rough, dissolute set, willing to enter into anything which promised excitement and sport--men who afterwards became unauthorized guerrillas, to prey upon any helpless band of soldiers they ran across, and who cared nothing about who won on the battlefield so long as they could add to their plunder. Jacks and his followers arrived in Deems less than five minutes after Louis had left the hamlet, and at the smithy received full particulars concerning the youth.

“Forward, boys,” he cried to the other mountaineers. “We’ll soon be up to the Yankee lick-spittle!” And away they went down the hill beyond Deems and up the next, where they beheld Louis just crossing the ridge. In a few minutes more the youth found himself surrounded.

Although not actually frightened, he was much disturbed, for the mountaineers were a wild-looking set and he knew from the look upon Jacks’s face that the fellow meant him no good. As the others rode directly in front of him he was compelled to draw rein.

“So, I’ve caught you, have I?” sneered Jacks, as he ranged up beside Louis. “Didn’t reckon I’d make it, did you?”

“You have no right to detain me, Jacks,” replied Louis, as calmly as he could.

“Hain’t we? Wall, all I kin say is, we’re a-takin’ the right; eh, boys?”

“Thet’s so, Sam.”

“And what is your object, gentlemen?”

“Oh, you needn’t git on no high horse,” returned Jacks. “Yer know well enough what our object is.”

“You-uns ain’t gwine ter spy on us,” put in another of the horsemen, a fellow horribly pitted with smallpox marks. “Jacks, I reckon it’s best to search him.”

“Of course we’ll search him,” came from several of the others.

“You have no authority to touch me,” answered Louis, with all the dignity he could command.

“You march along with us,” returned Jacks, and caught hold of Jess’s bridle. “Hogwell, git on one side of him and Ross, you git on the other. The rest go behind. He sha’n’t git away this trip. Forward!”

“Where are you going to take me?” asked Louis, in alarm.

“Shut up! You’ll find out soon enough. Git along!”

There was no help for it, and much against his will, the youth rode off in the midst of the mountaineers. The road taken was along the ridge of the hill, at right angles to the turnpike. An eighth of a mile was covered, and they descended into a thickly wooded hollow and presently halted in front of what had once been a sawmill, on the south bank of a half-frozen stream.

Here Louis was compelled to dismount, while his horse was led away with those of the mountaineers. With Jacks on one side of him and Hogwell on the other he was forced to enter the deserted and half-tumbled-down mill. The rain, which had let up for a bit, now came down as hard as ever.

“Fetch a rope, boys, and we’ll bind him,” were Jacks’s next words, and this order was speedily obeyed, and in spite of a desperate struggle Louis was made a prisoner.

He was then searched, and four dollars and his silver watch were taken from him--“as payment on thet insult at Lee Run”--so Jacks put it. Then the mountaineer began to question him closely about what he had seen and heard while in and about the town mentioned. But Louis was on his guard and revealed nothing, and this so angered the mountaineers they abused him roundly.

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do, boys,” said Jacks, suddenly. “We’ll leave him bound up here until to-morrow morning. A night of cold and hunger will bring him to terms.”

This was agreed to, and, as they did not wish to take along the extra horse, Jess was tied up in the mill beside Louis. Then with mocking adieus the rascals withdrew, leaving the lad to his fate.