A Rebellion in Dixie by Harry Castlemon (book recommendations for teens .TXT) 📖

“Robert,” whispered a voice close to the crack where the chinking had fallen out, “is that you?”

“For goodness’ sake turn that revolver the other way, Leon!” exclaimed Dawson, so full of excitement that he could scarcely speak plainly. “It is my father, and if you kill him I am gone up. What is it, pap?”

“You got away, didn’t you?” continued the voice, and one would have thought there was a slight chuckle mingled with it, “and you have come here to take your mother over into Jones county.”

“You’re right, I have,” returned Dawson, gleefully, “and you are here to help us. I’ve got two Yanks here with me, and they are just as good as they make them.”

248“I thought I heard you mention Leon’s name. Is it Leon Sprague?”

“Yes, sir,” returned the owner of that name. “I am here and ready to assist him in any way I can.”

“I am glad to see you here,” continued Mr. Dawson, “for I shall know that we are going to stand some show.”

“Now, father, what shall I do first?” asked Dawson, who was impatient to get to work.

“Hitch the first two mules you can get to that wagon, and by the time you have done that your mother will be ready for you. Leave one dog behind you, so that I can readily follow your trail.”

“Why, are you not going to stay, too?”

“No; I must go on with the squad, and run my risk of getting away afterward,” replied Mr. Dawson. “I will be missed if I don’t go with them, and I want you and your mother to get a good start. Be lively, and work as hard as you can, for I don’t know when we shall be back.”

“What shall I do after I get the mules hitched up?” asked Dawson. “Will it be 249safe for me to drive around in front of the house?”

“You can go where you please. There will be nobody to bother you. Keep up a good heart till I come.”

The man went off to get his saddle, which hung in a remote corner, and Dawson kept a close watch on him as long as he remained in the crib. Leon couldn’t help thinking how coolly father and son went about escaping from serving under the flag they didn’t like. If they made a success of it, well and good; if they failed, it was certain death to the one of them that happened to be caught. What would Leon’s own mother have said if she could have seen him at that moment? When Mr. Dawson got his saddle and turned to go out he waved his hand toward the crack as a farewell signal, and that brought the first long breath from the young fellow at Leon’s side. It was plain now that all the nonsense was gone out of him.

“There goes the best father that any fellow ever had,” said Dawson. “He is plucky, too, and when he next joins us he won’t come so 250still. He’ll have all that crowd after him. But now I must get to work,” he added, brightening up. “You fellows can help me by staying right here and watching these animals, so that they won’t arouse the whole neighborhood, while I get the team ready.”

“Why don’t you let one or the other of us go with you?” asked Leon.

“You’ll only be in the way; and, besides, I have got plenty of negroes out there to help.”

Dawson went away, and although the boys who were watching the animals caught sight of him once in a while through the cracks, it was fully half an hour before he came back. Then he had the team, which an old negro was driving, and the wagon was loaded so full that there did not seem to be room for so much as a skillet anywhere about it. Safely perched among the feather-beds was his mother, and she was having as much as she could do to keep the children quiet. On the end-board in front was Cuff, who was talking to his mules in a quiet sort of way, and it was astonishing how much speed he got out of them. Following along behind the wagon 251were ten or fifteen negroes, who wished her every success in her journey and promised to come to her on the following day. The dogs were there, too, all except the one that had been tied behind the house, and they seemed to think they were going off on a pleasure trip.

“Now, then,” said Dawson, taking his bridle from Leon’s hand and mounting his horse, “you darkies have followed us far enough. Go back now and go to bed, and remember and don’t come out of your house again to-night, no matter how much noise is made here. Leave that dog tied up. Father wants him to follow our trail by. Good-bye. Now, Cuff, whip up. We don’t want to stay around here any longer. Mother, take a good look at your home, for it is your last chance to see it.”

“No, Robert, I will see it in my dreams, anyway,” replied his mother, who was almost heart-broken at the idea of separating herself for so long a time from all her associations. “If your father only comes up with me I shall be satisfied.”

252“What do you think of that, Leon?” asked Dawson, as the wagon passed on out of hearing. “These rebels want killing. Father brought my mother to that house when he first married her, and we have lived there ever since. I am going to shoot every rebel that comes in my way.”

Leon did not know what reply to make to this. It was probable that his own mother might be obliged to leave her home in the same way, and he didn’t know how he would feel if she were turned loose in the world. It was no wonder, he thought, that Union men should talk of killing every rebel that came within reach. He knew he would feel so, too.

“There is one thing about it,” said Dawson, with something that sounded like a sigh. “A woman has more pluck than a man to stand under such things. I never believed so until to-night.”

The road they intended to take had evidently been explained to Cuff before they started, for he took to the lane that led through the cotton-fields, and he kept his mules on a keen trot all the way. Dawson didn’t go so 253fast. He allowed the wagon to gradually get ahead of him, in order to cover their retreat, and of course the boys stayed behind with him. When they arrived at the cover of the woods Cuff turned into it, and in a few moments more was out of sight, while Dawson turned his horse into a fence-corner and dismounted.

“Now, we will wait here for father,” said he.

“Where’s your wagon?” asked Leon.

“They are going on ahead toward the bridge. Taken in connection with those pickets I saw there they will get across, too, because I believe they would turn out to help us. Now, if you see that squad coming back along the road, just hold your breath. Father is with that crowd.”

Leon had never known what excitement was before. He tried to take it coolly, as Dawson did, but did not succeed very well. He threw the bridle off his horse’s neck and placed it around his arm, leaned on the top rail of the fence and kept watch of the road, and all the while he kept thinking how he would have felt if his father had been with 254that squad of Confederates and watching for a chance to escape. Tom Howe took it philosophically, as Dawson did. He had a mother to worry over him, but all he cared for was the successful outcome of Dawson’s scheme. The baying of the lonely hound came faintly to their ears, but with the exception of that, silence reigned unbroken. They stood leaning on the fence, watching first the house and then allowing their eyes to roam as far down the road as they could reach, and finally Tom broke the stillness.

“I see some fellows away off in that direction,” said he, pointing with his finger to direct the attention of his comrades, “who are coming along this way. There’s a whole body of them, too.”

“The time is coming,” said Dawson, after he had taken a look at the advancing horsemen. “We’ll know in a minute what’s going to happen.”

After that all was still again. The three boys stood there in the fence-corner and watched the men when they rode into the yard, and in a few minutes the baying of the 255hound ceased. Judging from the distance they were from the scene, there was a fearful commotion in the house. Men were seen riding rapidly about, a faint voice like a command came to their ears, and the squad suddenly vanished from view.

“Father has the start of them at last,” exclaimed Dawson, so excited and nervous that he could not stand still.

“Why, how do you make that out?” asked Leon. “You must have an owl’s eyes, for I can’t see anything from here.”

“Neither can I; but he is doing just what I would have done if I had been in his place. You don’t hear the hound any longer, do you? Well, you just wait until father comes up and he will tell you that the men are chasing a riderless mule.”

Leon began to understand the matter now, and he was utterly amazed at the strategy the man had used. He had dismounted from his clay-bank, given him a tremendous dig from some weapon or other he had in his hand, knowing that the mule would go home before he would go anywhere else, unloosed the dog, which 256showed him the way down the lane, and he was now coming that way with the speed of the wind. His pursuers had gone on after the mule, and were leaving him behind every moment. All this Leon went over for the benefit of Tom Howe, and Dawson simply nodded his head and then walked out in the lane to find his father. Presently he saw the hound, which sprang upon him, delighted to see him, and a long way down the lane behind him came his father.

“That’s father’s lope and I know it,” said Dawson, addressing himself to his companions. “He’ll hold that for two hours in order to beat a deer on his runway. But I am going to show him that I am a good soldier. Who comes there?” he added, in a voice pitched just loud enough to reach the fugitive’s ears.

“It is I, Robert,” came the joyful response; and in a few seconds Mr. Dawson came up. “By George, I have had a good race for it!” he went on, pulling his hat from his head and using his crooked finger to remove the big drops of perspiration that clung there. 257“Now, let us see what those laddy-bucks are going to do with the house.”

“You’ll never see it again after to-night,” replied Dawson. “Father, this is Leon Sprague, who has stuck to me all along.”

“Leon, I am glad to meet you,” said Mr. Dawson, extending his hand. “If you wait here for a few minutes you’ll see what you are going to come to. The rebels are making up an organization already to go up to Jones county and clean them out.”

“And, father, here’s another Yank that we must not forget,” said Dawson, laying his hand upon Tom Howe’s shoulder. “He’s little, but he don’t say much. You heard about the boy that came so near losing his life during the last drive? Well, sir, he’s the man, and there is the one who saved him.”

“I’m no Yank,” returned Tom, indignantly. “I am Tom Howe, Southern born, the same as yourself; but I hate a rebel.”

“I am glad to know you, Tom, and sometime, when I get opportunity, I am going to shake hands with you. You see the reason we never knew you before is because you kept to the river 258during your drives, and never came back into the country at all,” said Mr. Dawson, turning to Leon. “Now, we will wait here a few minutes and see what those fellows are going to do with the house.”

They were not obliged to wait very long, for the squad soon returned, having captured the clay-bank mule, and two of them at once proceeded to ride out the lane in which the fugitives had gone. They came on until they got within fifty yards of