Marcy took a turn about the room and then faced his visitor and looked at him in silence.

"I am sure I don't know what to make of you," he said, at length. "Which side are you on? I don't believe you know yourself."

"Haven't I told you time and again that I'm neutral?" demanded Dick. "You see Missouri—"

"You never saw two dogs fight in the street without wanting one or the other of them to whip," interrupted Marcy. "There can't be such a thing as a neutral in times like these. You are opposed to the flag, and yet you don't want to see it in possession of those who would insult or destroy it. You handle it as though you loved it."

"I did once, and I don't hate it now, or anybody who stands up for it," answered Dick, thoughtfully. "I am going to give it to you on one—"

"I wondered why you brought it in here," said Marcy. "I shall be glad to have the flag, and to-morrow morning we'll—"

"Good-night," said Dick, getting upon his feet.

"Hold on. What have I said or done to send you away in such a hurry?"

"What will you do to-morrow morning?" asked Dick, in reply.

"We'll run the colors up where they belong, and stand by to see that they stay there. What else should we do?"

"That's what I thought you were going to say; but you must promise that you'll not think of it, or you can't have the flag. You see," continued Dick confidentially, "I am not exactly hand and glove with Rodney and his crowd, but I come pretty near to believing as they do, and that was one reason I offered to steal the flag. If I hadn't done it, they would have hauled it down by force, or tried to, and that might have raised a sure-enough row; no sham about it."

"I am quite sure it would," assented Marcy.

"That's what I was afraid of, and I think it a good plan to put the fighting off as long as we can. I haven't anything against the flag and never shall have, not even when Missouri—"

"Never mind Missouri," Marcy interposed. "Tell me why you are going to give me the flag."

"Simply because I know you think a good deal of it, and will take care of it," answered Dick. "It will be something to be proud of one of these days, I tell you. After we rebels get the licking we are bound to get in the end—"

"If you are so sure of it, why do you favor secession?" inquired Marcy.

"Who? Me? I don't favor it. I never so much as hinted at such a foolish thing, because a blind man ought to see what is going to come of it. Before the thing is over our niggers will all be gone, our homes will be in ruins, our fields grown up to briers, and we'll be as poor as church mice. You'll see. I say that the Southern States ought to stay in the Union; but if they are resolved that they won't do it, the government at Washington has no shadow of a right to compel them. That's me, and that's why I tell you that when Missouri—"

"Why don't you give me the flag, if you are going to?" said Marcy. "Some of the teachers might come in, and how should I account for your presence here?"

"In any way you please. I am not particular. Hold on a bit," said Dick, as Marcy tried to take the colors from his hand. "I must have your promise first. You must say, in so many words, that you will not attempt to hoist it in the morning, and further, that you will not let anyone know I gave it to you. A certain fellow wants to shove it in the stove—"

"That's my cousin," interrupted Marcy.

"And another wants to show it to his girl, who told him to-day, in my presence, that if he had the pluck she had given him credit for, the colors would have come down long ago."

"That's Bob Cole," said Marcy.

"I was taught never to tell names, and tales, too. I knew that if I gave the flag to either of those fellows I would never see it again. I have marched and drilled under it for almost four years, and shouldn't like to hear that it been abused in any way; but if you and I live to see the end of the terrible times that I believe are coming upon us, I should like to hear that it had been run up again. That's why I am going to give it to you; but I must have your promise first."

"It's a bargain, and there's my hand on it," answered Marcy, without hesitation. "That flag shall never go up to the top of the academy staff again if I can help it, and while I remain in this school I'll never say you gave it to me. Now hand it over, so that I can hide it before anybody comes in."

Dick was rather surprised at the promptness with which the required promise was given. Almost without knowing it he handed Marcy the flag, and saw him place it in his trunk and turn the key upon it.

"Say," he exclaimed, when he found his tongue, "what are you up to?"

"I am going to leave the flag there until I can think of some good hiding-place for it," replied Marcy.

"That isn't what I mean, and you know it. I didn't think you would be so very willing to make the promise, and I am afraid there is something back of it."

"I have said all you asked me to say, have I not? Well, I assure you I shall remember it, for I am not in the habit of breaking my word. The next time these colors float it will be in a breeze that is untainted by any secession rag, I bet you. Then, whether you are living or dead, I shall think of you, Dick. You and I have always been friends and I know we shall continue to be so, no matter where we are or what flag waves over us."

"You don't owe me any thanks," said Dick hastily, and in, rather a husky voice. "I don't want the old thing, for I may have to fight against it someday; but I didn't want to see Rodney and his crowd trample it under their feet before they destroyed it. You're right, we shall always be friends, no matter—dog-gone State Rights anyhow. That's me. Good-night."

"Just one word more before you go," said Marcy. "Where did Rodney get the secession flag he has been prancing around with ever since he came from town?"

"It came through the post-office, but who sent it I don't know. You ought to have heard the fellows whoop and yell when he took it out of the package."

"Does he labor under the delusion that he is going to run it up on the tower in the morning?" continued Marcy.

"You can't prove that by me," was Dick's response. "Good-night."

"Yes, I can prove it by you," thought Marcy, as his visitor went out, closing the door behind him. "Your face and your actions said plainly enough that that is what Rodney means to do; but I'll bet you he will be astonished when to-morrow comes. He and his crowd must take us for a lot of dunderheads."

Marcy waited until he thought Dick had had time to reach his own room, and then he opened the door and went out into the hall. He was gone about half an hour, and when he came back he was smiling all over, and rubbing his hands together, as if he felt very well satisfied with what he had done during his absence. Then he drew a chair to the table, turned up the lamp, and devoted himself to another reading of the letters and papers he had that day received from home. While he was thus engaged some things were happening a few miles away that eventually came very near raising a "sure-enough fight" at the academy, and opened the eyes of the "citizens and voters of Barrington" to the fact that they had not done a wise thing when they employed some of the most worthless members of the community to keep watch of those who did not wear red, white, and blue rosettes and hurrah for President Davis.

About the time the Missouri boy and his comrades made their successful raid on the commandant's room, one of the paid spies of whom Mr. Riley had spoken during his conversation with Dick Graham went to the post-office in Barrington and was handed a letter addressed to himself. An ordinary observer would have seen at a glance that the writing on the envelope was disguised, but Bud Goble, who seldom saw writing of any sort, did not notice it. He straightened up as if he had grown an inch or more when he found that he had a correspondent who was respectful enough to address him as "Mister," and rose immensely in his own estimation when he opened the letter and with much difficulty spelled out the following:

"This is verry privat and perticlar bisness and i wouldnt think of speaking to nobody but you about it who are one of the most promnent and respeckted sitizens of barington."

This was nothing but the truth, according to Mr. Goble's way of thinking; but up to this time he had never met any one whose opinions agreed with his own. If the business to which his correspondent referred was so very "private and particular," it would never do, he thought, to read the letter there in the post-office, while there were so many men standing around; so he straightway sought the privacy of his own dwelling—a little tumble-down log cabin with a dirt floor and stick chimney, which was situated in the outskirts of the town.

"One of the most respected and prominent citizens of Barrington; that's what I be," muttered Bud Goble, as he stumbled along the dark road toward his domicile. "I always knowed it, but there's a heap of folks about here who have always been down on me, kase I haven't got any niggers of my own and have to work for a livin'; but I'm to the top of the heap now, an' what's more, I'll let some of 'em know it before I am many hours older. I wisht I knew what's into this letter, kase it's mighty hard work for me to read it. If it's anything about them babolitionists an' the doctering they're preachin' up among our niggers—Well, they'll not do it much longer, kase I am about ready to take some on 'em outen their beds at night an' lay the hickory over their backs. There's money into it, kase Mr. Riley an' the rest of the men that's onto the committee said so; an' I'm onto every job where there's an honest dollar to be made."

Bud Goble was a fair type of that class of people who were known to those among whom they lived as "white trash." Even the negroes, particularly those who belonged to wealthy planters, looked upon them with contempt. Too lazy to work, they lived from hand to mouth; and not one out of ten of the many thousands of them who went into the Confederate Army knew what they were fighting for. To save his life Bud Goble could not have told what all this excitement was about. He had a dim notion that somebody wanted to free the slaves, and the idea of such a thing made him furious; although it is hard to explain why it should, for, as Dick Graham said, he had never owned the price of a pickaninny. He had got it into his head that if the negroes were made free he would be brought down to their level and compelled to go to work, and that was something he could not bear to think of.

Bud Goble did not know what secession meant, but he was strongly in favor of it, because the majority of the wealthy and influential citizens in and around Barrington favored it; and taking his cue from them, he not only turned the cold shoulder upon those who were suspected of being on the side of the Union, but went further and became their deadly enemy. Mr. Riley and the other members of the Committee of Safety knew all this, and yet they employed him, the most vindictive and unreliable man in the neighborhood, to keep them posted in regard to what the Union men and free negroes were doing and saying. It is not to be supposed that men of their intelligence would put much faith in his reports, but they furnished an excuse for resorting to high-handed measures, and that was really what the committee wanted.

Meanwhile Bud Goble was making the best of his way homeward, guided by the blaze from a light-wood fire on the hearth which shone through the open door. It was not such a home as the most of us would care to go to at night, for it was the most cheerless place in the country for miles around. Even the humblest cabin in Mr. Riley's negro quarter, half a mile away, was a more inviting spot. And as for the family who occupied it—well, a benighted traveler, no matter how tired and hungry he might be, would have gone farther and camped in the woods rather than ask supper and lodging of them.

"Now, Susie," exclaimed Mr. Goble cheerfully, addressing a slouchy, unkempt woman who sat in front of the fire with her elbows resting on her knees and a dingy cob pipe between her teeth, "punch up the blaze an' dish up a supper while I read my letter an' see what's into it."

"Who's been a-writin' a letter to you?" queried the woman, without changing her position.

"That's what I don't know till I read it. It's something about them babolitionists that our gover'ment has ordered to get outen here, I reckon. But I'm powerful hungry. I aint had a bite to eat sense I left in the mornin'."

"Well, then, where's the meal an' bacon I told you to fetch along when you come home?" inquired Mrs. Goble. "I told you plain as I could speak it that there wasn't a drop of anything to eat in the house; an' here's the young ones been a-howlin' for grub the whole day long."

"Land sakes, if I didn't forget all about it," said Goble regretfully. "But how on earth am I goin' to get grub when I aint got no money to pay for it? Our committee didn't give me no money to-day kase I didn't have nothing to tell 'em. 'Pears like all the traitors keep mighty glum when I'm around. See two or three of 'em talkin' together, an' they shet up the minute I begin to sidle up to 'em."

"You aint wuth shucks to work for that committee," replied his wife impatiently. "If I was a man an' had the job, I'd tell 'em something every hour in the day."

"How could you when there wasn't nothing to tell, I'd like to know?"

"I'd find plenty, I bet you. You haven't disremembered how them babolitionists an' the free niggers used to talk, about the time John Brown was makin' that raid of his'n, have you?"

"'Course I aint; but them's old stories now. They've kept mighty still tongues in their heads sense that time."

"No odds if they have. They was Union then, an' they're that same way of thinkin' now; an' the talk that would have hung 'em then, if our folks hadn't been jest the peaceablest people in the world, would get 'em into trouble now if it was brung up agin 'em."

"An' would you tell them stories all over agin if you was me?" exclaimed Bud Goble.

"I wouldn't do nothing else."

"Jest as if they happened yisterday?"

"Toby sure. You want money, don't you? an' that there committee of yourn won't give you none 'ceptin' you can tell 'em sunthin', will they?"

"Now, that's an idee," exclaimed Mr. Goble, gazing admiringly at his wife. "I never onct thought of that way of doin'."

"You never think of nothing till I tell you what to do," said Mrs. Goble sharply. "You've had no end of good jobs that you could have made money on if you'd only worked 'em right, but you won't listen to what I tell you. I don't reckon you see how you could make money two ways outen the job you've got now, do you? You might go to all the Union folks, niggers an' whites, an' tell 'em that if they don't give you some clothes for your fambly to wear, an' grub for 'em to eat, you will have that there committee of yourn after 'em, mightn't you?"

"So I could," exclaimed Bud gleefully. "But I'll tell 'em I want money for keepin' still about what I've heard 'em say."

"You won't do nothing of the sort," said his wife almost fiercely. "If you get money, you'll set in to loafin' around Larkinses', an' I won't see none of it, nor any grub or clothes nuther. Look around the house an' into the cubboard an' see if you oughtn't to be ashamed of yourself for swillin' so much apple-jack. Get the grub, I tell you, an' give some on 'em a hint that you want an order on the store keeper to get me a new dress I've been needin' for the last six months. That's one way to make it pay. Then go to that committee an' tell 'em what you've heard them babolitionists an' free niggers say about John Brown bein' right in what he did, an' they'll give you sunthin' for bringin' 'em the news."

"But them old stories won't be news."

"No odds. They're what the committee wants, an' you're plumb blind that you can't see it."

Bud Goble placed his elbows upon his knees, fastened his eyes upon the glowing coals on the hearth, and took a minute or two to consider the matter. Then he got upon his feet and went out into the darkness without telling his wife where he was going or what he intended to do. But that did not trouble Mrs. Goble. She administered a hearty shake to one of the ragged children who querulously demanded to know why pap hadn't brung home sunthin to eat, and then filled a fresh pipe and lighted it with a brand from the fire.

Bud climbed the fence that ran between the road and the little barren pasture in which he permitted his pigs to roam (when he had any), worked his way through a narrow strip of woodland, and finally struck the lane leading from Mr. Riley's tobacco patch to the negro quarter a double row of whitewashed cabins in which the field-hands lived. A few minutes later, after making free use of a club with which he had taken the precaution to arm himself, and fighting his way through a battalion of coon dogs that assembled to dispute his progress, he opened the door of one of the cabins and entered without ceremony. If the occupants had been white folks, Bud wouldn't have done that; but who ever heard of a Southern gentleman knocking at a negro's door?

"What made you-uns set there like so many bumps on a log when you heard me comin'?" was the way in which he greeted Uncle Toby and his family, who were sitting in front of the fire resting after the labors of the day. "Why didn't you come out and shoo off them dogs of your'n? You'd best be mighty careful how you treat me, kase I'm a bigger man in this settlement nor you think I be. What's that you're shovin' out of sight behind your cheer? Let me have a look at it."

Uncle Toby was one of the most popular negro preachers in the county, and had been known to boast of the fact that he addressed a larger Sunday morning congregation than any white minister in Barrington. Bud Goble thought he was a dangerous nigger to have around, and often asked Mr. Riley why he did not "shut him up." But the planter only laughed and said that if old Toby could preach so much better than the Barrington ministers, he didn't think he ought to be deposed. So long as the darkeys who came into his grove of a Sunday had passes from their masters, it was all right; but there was something that was not all right, and it was the occasion of no little uneasiness and perplexity to Mr. Riley. By some hocus-pocus Toby had learned to read his Bible. There was nothing wrong in that, of course, but a darkey who could read his Bible would be likely to read papers as well; and from them, especially if they chanced to be Northern papers, he might imbibe some ideas that no slave had any business to entertain. It was said, and Bud Goble believed it, that Toby had a great deal to do with the "underground railroad" that had carried so many runaway negroes to freedom. You will be surprised when you hear that Bud was ignorant enough to take this expression literally. He really thought that some one had built a railroad under Barrington for the purpose of assisting discontented slaves to escape to Canada, and some of the wags at the military academy offered him a large sum of money if he would find it and conduct them to it, so that they might tear it up. Bud concluded that somewhere in the woods there must be a ladder or flight of stairs that led down to the railroad, and he spent days in looking for it. When Mr. Riley, taking pity on his ignorance, explained the matter to him, Bud was fighting mad; and ever since that time he had been watching for an opportunity to be revenged upon the boys who had played upon his credulity.

"Let me have a look at that there thing you was a-shovin' out of sight behine your cheer when I come in," repeated Bud, striding up to the fire-place and catching up the article that had caught his eye. "Looked to me like one of them 'sendiary papers, an' it is too. What business you got to be readin' like a white gentleman?" he added, slapping Toby on the head with the paper which he picked up from the floor.

"Oh, Marse Gobble," began Toby.

"'Tain't my name," howled Bud, who always got angry whenever anybody took liberties with his cognomen. "G-o don't spell Gob, does it? You can't read or spell alongside of me, but you know too much to be of any more use around here. Me and Mr. Riley b'long to the Committee of Safety, an' it's our bounden duty to take chaps like you out in the woods an' lick ye. What do you say to that?"

Old Toby was so very badly frightened that he could not say anything. He had been caught almost in the act of reading a copy of the New York Tribune, and what would Mr. Riley say and do when he heard of it? The latter was known far and wide as a kind master. He gave his slaves plenty to eat and wear and never overworked them; but he believed as most of his class did, and it wasn't likely that he would deal leniently with one of his chattels who would bring a paper like the Tribune on the plantation, and afterward spread discontent among his fellows by preaching in secret the doctrines he found in it. Bud easily read the thoughts that were passing in the old negro's mind, and told himself that Susie deserved a new dress in return for the suggestions she had given him. He saw his advantage and determined to push it.



CHAPTER VI.

THE STRUGGLE ON THE TOWER.

Toby was said to be the most thrifty and "forehanded" darkey in the settlement. Like all the rest of the black people on Mr. Riley's plantation he had a little garden-patch, and as he and his family were industrious enough to cultivate it properly, they had vegetables to sell at the "great house" and received cash in hand for them. Being a minister, he did not think it right to spend much for clothing or finery, and there were those who believed that he had a goodly sum of money laid by. Bud Goble knew that his larder was generally well supplied, and he had designs upon it now.

"What do you reckon your Moster would do to ye if I should take this here docyment to him an' tell him I found you a-readin' of it?" Bud demanded, looking sharply at Uncle Toby. "It's my duty to do it, kase I b'long to the same committee that he does, bein' one of the most respected an' prominent citizens of Barrington. That's the way my letters come."

"Marse Bud," replied the negro (he did not dare venture on the surname again for fear of exciting his visitor's wrath), "I didn't go for to do wrong—I didn't for a fac'. Dat paper was gin to me—oh, laws, what am I sayin'?"

"Speak it out, nigger," exclaimed Bud fiercely. "Who gin it to you, an' how did he come by it in the first place?"

"Suah I don't know how he come by it, Marse Bud," replied Toby, who was greatly alarmed. "I don't know what 'is name was, nudder, kase I nevah seed him afo'. Dat's de Lawd's truth."

"No, I don't reckon it is," answered Bud, with a grim smile. "But as I am here on other business, I won't say nothing more on that p'int at this meetin'. I'll sorter hold it over ye like an overseer's whip, ready to fall when you don't hoe your row like you had oughter. Do you want me to take this here Trybune to your Moster? Well, then, I want you to sell me some of that fine tobacker of your'n. You told me t'other day that you didn't have none; but I reckon you can find some if you look around."

"Mebbe so, sah," replied Toby, with alacrity. His store was growing small, but if by breaking into it he could purchase Bud Goble's silence, he was perfectly willing to do it. He knew that he would never see a cent for the tobacco, for Bud was much too hightoned to use "twist" when he had money to invest in "store plug." He left the room, and in a few minutes returned with three or four big "hanks," which he handed to his visitor with the request that the latter would accept them with his compliments.

"Didn't mean to rob ye, Toby," said Bud, as he wrenched a huge mouthful from one of the "hanks" to test the quality. "But I'll tell ye what's a fact. When I come home tonight, after a meetin' of that there Committee of Safety I was tellin' you about, I found that I had plumb disremembered to fetch along the bacon, meal, an' taters that my wife done told me to bring, an' so I thought I would jest run over an' see if I couldn't borry some of you to last me a few days."

Old Toby was astonished at the proposition. It was on the end of his tongue to refuse point-blank; but when he glanced at Bud he thought better of it. The latter was trying to look good-natured, but there was an expression on his face that brought all the negro's fears back to him with redoubled intensity. He saw very plainly that it would take more than a few twists of tobacco to make Bud Goble keep his lips closed.

"Ise got a little meal an' some few taters, Marse Bud," said Toby reluctantly. "But I tell you for a fac' dat de bacon we done drawed from de oberseer won't las' de week out for my own folks, let alone giving you some of it."

"Oh, well, I aint so sot on havin' bacon," replied Bud. "Give me two or three of them yaller-legged chickens of yourn, an' they will do jest as well. It's a mighty far ways back to town, an' I do despise walkin' there in the dark," he continued, seeing that Toby hesitated. "It's nigher to the great house, an' so I reckon I'll go up an' smoke a pipe with Riley."

"Set down, Marse Bud," cried Toby hastily. "Set down in dat cheer an' I'll have de things you want directly. An' say, Marse Bud, when I get 'em, will you give me dat paper?"

"Oh, yes; you can have the paper," said the visitor. And to show that he meant what he said, he tossed it upon the nearest shakedown.

"Thank you, sah; thank you kindly," said Toby, with the mental resolution that he would throw that tell-tale paper into the fire as soon as the visitor took his leave. "If I see dat man agin I'll tell him I don't want no mo' dat sort of trash to read. I'll be back in jes' a minute."

Toby was gone a good deal longer than that, but when he returned he brought with him two meal bags, partly filled, which he placed upon the floor beside Bud Goble's chair. The latter thrust his arm into them, one after the other, and found that the first contained corn meal enough to keep him and his hungry family in hoe-cake until he could earn money from the committee to buy more, and that there were three chickens and about a peck of potatoes in the other.

"That's what I'm a-needin'," said he, with a satisfied chuckle. "I bid you a kind goodnight, you an' your fambly; an' if I hear anybody talk about takin' you out in the bresh an' lickin' on ye, I won't let 'em."

Toby stood in the door to "shoo off the dogs," and drew a long sigh of relief when he saw his unwelcome guest disappear in the darkness.

"Dinah," said he, when he returned to the cabin, "de money you've got in dat stockin' of yourn has got to be buried in de groun' somewhar de first thing in de mawnin'. Ise dat skeared of having it in de house dat I can't sleep. I thought sure dat Gobble white trash man gwine ask for dat money."

Bud was not long in reaching home. He was so highly elated that he seemed to be treading on air, and the distance was passed over almost before he knew it. It was the source of great gratification to him to learn, by actual test, that his relations with the Committee of Safety put such power into his hands. There was one thing about it, he told himself: From that time forward he and his family would have more and better food to eat than they had ever had before, and be better clothed. If the scheme he had just put into operation would work once, he was positive it would succeed every time it was tried.

"There, now!" exclaimed Bud triumphantly, as he walked into his own house and dropped the bags by the side of his wife's chair. "Two heads are better'n one, if one is a woman's head. There's meal an' taters an' chickens; now go on an' dish up a good supper. I'll get your dress to-morrer."

"Where you goin' to get it?" inquired his wife, knocking the ashes from her pipe and rising from her seat. The knowledge that there was food in the house put a little energy into her, and at the same time quieted the complaining children.

"I'm workin' this job for all there is into it, let me tell you," replied Bud, taking his wife's pipe from her hand and filling it for his own benefit. "I ketched old preacher Toby with a babolition paper in his hand, an' that's the way I come to get the grub an' tobacker. To-morrer I'll go an' call on the storekeeper. He told me t'other day that he wouldn't trust me no more, but I kinder think he'll change his mind when I tell him that I'm onto that committee. An' then there's that Meth'dist preacher, Elder Bowen, who I suspicion gin Toby that babolition Trybune. There's a heap of hams an' side-meat in that smokehouse of his'n, an' it sorter runs in my mind that I can talk him into givin' me some of it."

"An' did you speak to Toby about the money they say he's got hid somewheres?" asked Mrs. Goble, who was dressing two of the chickens preparatory to consigning them to the kettle, which she had placed upon the coals. "What business has he got to have money when white folks—"

"Set me down for a fuel!" exclaimed Bud, hitting his rheumatic leg such a slap that he could hardly repress the howl of anguish that arose to his lips. "There I was talkin' to him for as much as ten or fifteen minutes an' never onct thought of that money. Well, there's another day comin', an' Toby'll have to hand that money over or get whopped."

"An' if I was you," continued his wife, "I wouldn't say a blessed word to nobody about it. Keep your business to yourself, kase if you don't, them that helps you will want to share in what you get."

"Susie, you've got a long head an' that's a fac'," said Bud, who wondered why he had not thought of all these little things himself. "I'll bear them idees in mind. Now, punch up the fire a little an' let me see if I can read what's into this letter. One of the most prominent an' respected citizens of Barrington; that's what I be, an' the feller who writ to me knows it."

Having lighted his pipe and waited until the blaze from the fire had attained sufficient brightness, Bud drew the letter from his pocket and read aloud:

"Dear sir and frind i take my pen in hand to let you know that you aint doing as you had oughter do you are paid by the committee of safety to keep an eye on all the abolitionists in the kentry and you dont do it theres plenty of them in barington and a hul pile of them up to the cademy wich is a disgrace to the town them boys some of them is spiling for a licking sich as you and your frinds had oughter give them long ago but aint done it and had oughter have a little sense knocked into their heads why dont you send them warning to shet up or clear themselves outen the federasy like the govment says they must do inside of ten days theres that gray boy for one and that graham boy for an other but they aint no kin though theyre awful sassy and need looking to if you dont tend to business bettern this i shall have to see that the committee gets some body else in your place hurra for jeff davis and the south and long may she wave that is my moto."

Men of sense do not usually give a second thought to anonymous communications, but put them into the fire as soon as they ascertain their character; but Goble, of course, did not know this, and besides he was not that sort of a fellow. He was not strictly honorable himself, and was glad to receive hints, even if they came from a correspondent who was too much of a coward to sign his name to what he had written. He saw at once that he had been remiss in his duty, and the threat contained in the closing lines made him a little uneasy.

"Land sakes, I plumb forgot to keep an eye on them boys at the 'cademy," he said, as he folded the letter and prepared to return it to the envelope. As he did so, he found that there were a few lines written on the outside which he had not before noticed. They ran as follows:

"Them boys I spoke of that gray and graham boy are the verry ones who fooled you about that under ground rail road—"

When Bud read these words he hit his rheumatic leg another heavy blow, and jumped to his feet with a fierce exclamation on his lips.

"So them's the fellers that fooled me, are they?" he shouted, as soon as the pain in his leg would permit him to speak. "You haven't disremembered how they offered me a cool hundred dollars in gold if I would look around in the woods an' find the ladder or the stairs that led down to that railroad, have you, Susie? If it hadn't been for Riley I might have been lookin' for it yet. I said at the time that I would get even with them for that, but I couldn't seem to find no way to do it, kase I don't never have no dealin's with 'em; but I've got an idee now. I wisht I could think up some way to get them two out in the woods by theirselves. I'll have to have somebody to help me if I try that, Susie."

As that was very evident to Mrs. Goble she made no reply, but went on with her preparations for supper, while Bud smoked and meditated. When the chickens, potatoes, and hoe-cake were declared to be ready, he did not change his position, but grabbed what he wanted from the table, and devoured it while sitting by the fire and trying to conjure up some plan for making himself square with those fun-loving academy boys. He inferred that they had been preaching Union doctrines at the school, but Bud did not care a straw for that. He wanted to punish them for making him search for that underground railroad. When the dishes were cleared of everything eatable that had been placed upon them, and the table moved back to its place, Bud stretched his heavy frame on the ground in front of the fire and went to sleep, using his hat and boots for a pillow.

At an early hour the next morning another serious inroad was made upon the slender stock of provisions Bud had frightened out of old Uncle Toby, and then Bud shouldered his long squirrel rifle, which he carried with him wherever he went, and set out for Barrington, not forgetting to assure his wife that she might confidently expect him to bring that new dress when he returned at night. While he is on the way let us go back to the academy and see what is taking place there.

The sentries who were on duty at daylight took note of the fact that more than half the boys in school arose without waiting for reveille. Even a stranger would have known that there was something afoot. The students gathered in little groups in the corridors and held mysterious whisperings with one another, or sauntered around with their hands in their pockets, as if in search of something they were in no particular hurry to find; and while some seemed scarcely able to refrain from laughing outright and dancing hornpipes, the faces of others wore a resolute look that had a volume of meaning in it. Rodney Gray, with the flag of the Confederacy tucked safely under the breast of his coat, took a stroll about the building and grounds, looking sharply at every one he met, and finally drew off on one side to compare notes with some of his friends.

"I don't at all like the way the land lies," said he. "If Marcy and his gang haven't something on their minds, they certainly act like it. Graham, you know where the old flag is, do you not?"

"I do, for a fact. It is safe under lock and key, and in the keeping of one who knows how to take care of it," answered Dick.

"I wish I had insisted on seeing it destroyed the minute you got hold of it," continued Rodney. "Then I should know that there is no danger of its being hoisted again."

"I pledge you my word that you will never again set eyes on that flag as long as you remain at this academy," said Dick earnestly. "That assurance ought to satisfy you."

"Perhaps it ought, but it doesn't," Rodney took occasion to say to Billings and Cole a few seconds later, when Dick had gone off on some business of his own. "I wish now that some true Southern boy had had pluck enough to steal the flag, for then we should know where it is at this moment. Marcy and his friends certainly suspect something; and if they know that the colors are gone, they take it in an easy way I don't like."

"Dick has given his word that we shall never see the flag again, and I believe him," said Cole. "He is a good fellow and ought to be one of us."

"Oh, he will come out all right, and so will Marcy," said Billings confidently. "Wait till this excitement culminates in a fight, and then you will see a big change of opinion among these weak-kneed chaps. They expect a skirmish this morning and are prepared for it. We'll see fun before that new flag of ours goes up on the tower, and I'll bet on it."

"Boom!" said the gun, whereupon the drums began their racket, and the fifes piped forth the first strains of the morning call. The boys all started on the run for the court (a large glass-covered room in the center of the building which was used for morning inspection, and for drills and parades when stormy weather prevailed), and when the roll had been called, the sergeants of the several companies reported all present or accounted for. But still there were some boys missing, and no report was made as to their whereabouts. A familiar voice answered to Marcy Gray's name, but it was not Marcy's voice. Rodney's quick ear detected the cheat, and when ranks were broken he looked everywhere for his cousin, but he was not to be seen. With frantic gestures Rodney summoned a few of his right-hand men to his side and communicated his fears to them in hasty, whispered words.

"Seen Marcy during roll-call?" he inquired.

No one had. Didn't he answer to his name?

"No, he did not," replied Rodney, hastily scanning the faces of the students that filed by him on their way out of the court. "Somebody answered 'here,' but it wasn't Marcy. The sergeant must know where he is, for he reported the company present or accounted for."

"Doesn't that go to show that Marcy and the chap who answered to his name, as well as the sergeant himself, must be in some sort of a plot?" inquired Billings.

"I'll bet they are on the tower," declared Rodney. "Let's go up there, quick."

Rodney's friends did not at first see what Marcy could be doing on the tower, for had not Dick Graham assured them that the flag was all right, and that they would never see it hoisted again? But if Marcy suspected that his Cousin Rodney would make an effort to run up his new Confederate flag in place of the Stars and Stripes, might it not be that he and a chosen squad had taken possession of the tower, intending to hold it so that Rodney could not carry out his design? If that was the case there was bound to be a struggle more or less desperate, and Rodney's adherents would be expected to be on hand; so they followed him to the top of the tower, but halted when they got there, astonished and appalled at the scene that was presented to their gaze. The cousins were clinched and swaying about in alarming proximity to the low parapet, over which they were in imminent danger of falling to the ground; the sentry on duty was vainly endeavoring to part them by placing his musket between the struggling boys and crowding them toward the middle of the tower; and Marcy Gray was clinging to the halliards leading up to the masthead, from which the starry flag was floating in all its glory. It was not the old flag, however, but a newer and better one, whose glossy folds had never before been kissed by the breeze.

"Stop this!" shouted Cole, recovering himself by an effort and darting forward to assist in separating the angry and reckless boys. "Haven't you any sense left? A misstep on the part of one would be the death of both of you. Don't you know that the academy is four stories high, and that the tower runs up one story higher? Let go, Rodney. Give me those halliards, Marcy."

"Stand back, both of you!" cried the latter. "I'd rather go over than give up the halliards. If I had two hands I would very soon end the fracas, but I haven't a friend to hold the ropes while I defend myself."



Perhaps he hadn't when he began speaking, but a second or two later he had plenty of them. Hasty steps sounded in the hall below and came up the ladder, and in less time than it takes to write it the top of the tower was covered with boys. The last one who came up turned about and slammed down the trap-door through which he had gained access to the roof. It was Dixon, the tall student who had compelled the orderly to fold the flag properly, and who afterward told Dick Graham right where to find it. Being a Kentuckian, he was just now "on the fence," and ready to jump either way, according as his State decided to go out of the Union or remain in it. He was opposed to secession, and that being the case, it was strange that he should afterward find himself enrolled among John Morgan's raiders, but that was right where he brought up. Although he was a close student, a good soldier, and one of the best fellows that ever lived withal, he was at any time ready for a fight or a frolic, and it didn't make any great difference to him which it was.

"Now," said he cheerfully, as he closed the trap-door behind him, "we can have a quiet squabble and no one can come up to interfere with us. But look here, boys," he added, stepping to the parapet and looking over. "It's a mighty far ways to the ground—five stories or so—and if you go down, you will be sure to get hurt. On the whole, I think we had better adjourn for a while."

Rodney knew just how to take these words. Like that notice in the post-office, "there was reading between the lines." Seeing that he and his friends were taken at disadvantage and greatly outnumbered, he thought it best to handle his cousin with a little less rudeness; but he would not cease his efforts to pull down that hated flag and hoist his own Stars and Bars until he was compelled to do so. He let go his hold upon his cousin and seized the halliards.

"Never mind the relationship," he yelled, when Marcy said that if Rodney were not his cousin he would be tempted to thrash him within an inch of his life. "I am more ashamed of it than you can possibly be. Let go those halliards."

"Looks as though there might be a slight difference of opinion between the parties most interested, and there's no telling who is Governor until after the election," said Dixon quietly. "But I respectfully submit that the top of a high tower is no place to settle a dispute that may end in a scrimmage. We don't want to begin killing one another until we have to, and there are two ways in which the matter can be arranged: Wait until after dark, and then go silently to the parade and have it over before anybody knows a thing about it, or else kiss and make friends right here."

Dick Graham, who had thus far kept himself on the other side of the belfry out of sight, broke into a loud laugh when Dixon, speaking with the utmost gravity, made the last proposition. Dick had a cheery, wholehearted laugh, and the effect was contagious. The laugh became general and finally such an uproar arose that the students at the foot of the tower, who had been watching proceedings on the top with no little interest and anxiety, pulled off their caps and joined in with cheers and yells, although they had not the faintest idea what they were cheering and yelling for. Marcy smiled good-naturedly as he looked into his cousin's face, but Rodney scowled as fiercely as ever. When anything made him angry it took him a long time to get over it. He was almost ready to boil over with rage when he caught his cousin in the act of hoisting a brand new flag in place of the one that had been stolen, and if his friends had only been prompt to hasten to his support, he would have torn that flag into fragments in short order. But they had held back and given Marcy's friends time to come to his assistance, and now there was no hope of victory. This made him believe that the boys who pretended to side with him were cowards, the last one of them.

"If I will give you the halliards, will you promise not to haul the colors down?" asked Marcy, who had no heart for trouble of this sort.

"I'll promise nothing," answered Rodney, in savage tones. "You and your gang have the advantage of me this time, but it will not be so when next we meet. Mark that."

"Hear, hear!" cried some of the boys.

"You shut up!" shouted Rodney. "You fellows are mighty ready to talk, but I would like to see you do something. As for you, Marcy, you are a traitor to your State. Let go those halliards."

"I'll not do it. Your ancestors and mine have fought under this flag ever since it has been a flag, and if I can help it, you shall not be the first of our name to haul it down."

"But that flag does not belong up there any longer, and I say, and we all say, that it shall not stay there. Here's our banner," exclaimed Rodney, and as he spoke he drew the Stars and Bars from under his coat and shook out its folds. "It's a much handsomer flag than yours, and if there's a war coming, as some of you seem to think, it will lead us to victory on every battle-field."

The sight of the Confederate emblem seemed to arouse a little martial spirit among Rodney Gray's friends. They cheered it lustily, and Rodney began to hope that they would make energetic and determined effort to run it up; but they lacked the courage. The disgusted Rodney told them in language more forcible than elegant that they were nothing but a lot of wind-bags.

"Sentry, you were stationed here to protect that flag," said Marcy, as he made the halliards fast to a cleat beside the door leading into the belfry.

"Are you officer of the day?" demanded the guard. "Then you are taking a good deal upon yourself when you presume to tell me what my duties are. Go below, the last one of you, or I will call the corporal."

"That is what you would have done long ago if you had been a good soldier, but I reckon he's coming without waiting to be called," observed Dixon, as an imperious knock, followed by the command to "open up here, immediately," was heard at the trapdoor. "Now, Rodney, don't let's have any more nonsense over the flag."

"I shall do as I please about that, and you can't help yourself," replied Rodney. "I'll settle the matter with you on the parade tonight, if you feel in the humor. That flag shall not float over this school with my consent."

"Then I am sorry to say that it will have to float without your consent. It will be time enough to make war upon it when the North makes war on us; and you will get plenty of that, I bet you. Now let's have a look at our friend below, who seems to be in something of a hurry to come up, and then we'll go down and attend to the business of the hour, which, I believe, means breakfast."

So saying Dixon raised the trap-door, revealing the flushed and excited faces of the commandant and officer of the day, who were most respectfully saluted when they entered the belfry.



CHAPTER VII.

OLD TOBY'S MONEY.

"Young gentlemen, what is the meaning of this new outrage?" demanded the colonel angrily.

"A tussle over the flag, sir," replied Dixon, standing very stiffly and raising his hand to his cap. "The old one having mysteriously disappeared, it became necessary to hoist a new one, sir."

Of course the commandant knew long before this time that the colors had been taken from his bureau, and he knew, also, that the theft had been committed under cover of that sham fight in the hall; but he did not say a word about it. To be candid, he did not think it would be good policy to try to sift the matter to the bottom, for fear of implicating some profitable student whom he could not afford to expel. Being proprietor of the school, he desired to keep it intact as long as he could.

"And during the tussle two of your number came very near being precipitated to the ground," exclaimed the colonel. "I shall put a stop to this insubordination if I have to order the whole school into the guard-house."

"Very good, sir," answered the boys.

"Go downstairs, all of you," commanded the officer of the day. "Sergeant Rodney and Private Marcy Gray, report to me at once."

The students hastened down the ladder, wondering what was to be the result of this "new outrage." When they reached the hall one of them said, in tones loud enough to be heard by all his companions:

"Graham is a traitor. He stole the old flag, but he furnished a new one to be hoisted in its place."

"There's where you are wrong," exclaimed Marcy promptly. "Dick had nothing whatever to do with it, and when he saw this new flag, he was as much surprised as the rest of you were. I have had it concealed in my room for more than six weeks. I meant to be ready for you, you see."

"Where did you get it? if that is a fair question."

"It was made by a young lady who lives in Barrington, but of course you do not expect me to mention her name. She is true to her colors, and that's more than can be said in favor of you fellows who would have hauled it down if you had possessed the pluck."

"That was well put in, Marcy," said Rodney. "There isn't pluck enough among the whole lot of them to fit out a good-sized cat. If the Yankees should come down here, they could drive an army of such fellows with nothing but cornstalks for weapons."

The tone in which these words were uttered set Dick Graham going again, and he started all the rest that is, all except a few who were so angry they couldn't laugh. If that dread functionary, the officer of the day, heard the uproar, he must have thought that the culprits who had been commanded to report to him did not take their prospective punishment very much to heart.

Of course the boys who remained below were impatient to hear all about the things that had happened in and around the belfry, and to know what was going to be done with Rodney and his cousin. But the last was a point upon which no one could enlighten them, not even the cousins themselves when they came from the presence of the officer of the day, who had given them a stern reprimand and a warning. Being from Louisiana himself, and having offered his services to her in case they should be required, he bore down upon Marcy harder than he did upon Rodney, and even went so far as to try and convince the North Carolina boy that the word "traitor," which had so often been applied to him by his schoolmates, was deserved and appropriate. But Marcy could not look at it that way, and even in the presence of the man who could have shut him up in the guard-house, with nothing but bread to eat and water to drink, he did not "haul in his shingle one inch." He never had made any trouble in the school, and, what was more to the point, he did not intend to; but neither was he going to stand still and permit a lot of rebels to run over him. The colonel had said, in so many words, that the flag was to be hoisted every morning until further orders; and in hoisting a new one in the place of the one that had disappeared, he had not broken any rule. The officer knew that to be true, and as he could not punish one without punishing the other also, he was obliged to let them both go scot-free; but he detained Rodney a moment to whisper a word of caution to him.

"Don't let this thing be repeated," said he earnestly. "I think just as you do, and if I could have my own way, your flag would now be waving on the tower; but it is my duty to obey orders, and it is your duty as well. Don't make another move until this State joins the Confederacy, and then there will be no one to oppose you. The hoisting of another flag will break up the school, but that is to be expected. You may go."

"He said, in effect, that he would keep this thing hanging over our heads to see how we behave in future," said Rodney to Billings and Cole, who were in the hall waiting for him. "He is on our side, but not being the head of the school, he can't back us up as he would like to. But then this will keep," he added, once more shaking out his flag, which he had all the while carried under his arm. "I was afraid the teachers would take it away from me, but as they didn't, we'll hold ourselves in readiness to run it up when the other is ordered down."

But the incidents of the morning, exciting as they were, did not long monopolize the attention of the students, or remain the principal subjects of discussion. They were forgotten the minute the mail was distributed, for of course their papers contained news from all parts, and the boys made it their business to keep posted. There was one thing the papers had already begun to do that excited derisive laughter among all the sensible boys in school. They called dispatches from the North "Foreign Intelligence." But there were some, like Rodney Gray, who could not see that that was anything to laugh at, and following the lead of their favorite journals in politics, they soon learned to follow their vocabulary also, and always spoke of the North as "the United States," and of the South as "the Confederate States."

When the adjutant's call was sounded Marcy Gray fell in with the other members of his company who had been warned for duty, and marched to the parade-ground to go through the ceremony of guard-mounting. Immediately after that he went on post in a remote part of the grounds, a favorite place with the sentries on hot summer days, for the woods on the other side came close up to the fence, and the trees threw a grateful shade over the beat. The only order the boy he relieved had to pass, was a simple as well as a useless one. It was to "keep his eye peeled for that fence and not permit anybody to climb over it"; but Marcy listened as though he meant to obey it. Then the relief passed on, and he was left alone with his thoughts, which, considering the incidents connected with that skirmish on the tower, were not the most agreeable company.

He had been there perhaps a couple of hours, out of sight of everybody, when he was brought to a stand-still by a rustling among the bushes on the other side of the fence, and presently discovered old Toby looking at him over a fallen log. A smile of genuine joy and relief overspread the black man's features when he saw who the vigilant sentry was, and he immediately got upon his feet and came to the fence.

"The top of the morning to you, parson," said Marcy pleasantly. "You act as though you might be looking for some one."

"Sarvent, sah," replied Toby. "I is for a fac' lookin' for you, an' nobody else. I was up to de gate, an' Marse Dick Graham done tol' me you down heah. You-uns gwine get in de biggest sort of trouble, you an' Marse Dick, an' I come heah to tol' you."

"I assure you we are grateful to you for it," answered the boy, with a smile. "But how are we going to get into trouble? Talk fast, for I have no business to hold any communication whatever with you."

"Dat white trash, Bud Gobble; he's de man," began Toby. "You an' Marse Dick done sont him into de woods to look for de way to dat underground railroad—"

Marcy leaned upon his musket, threw back his head, and laughed heartily but silently, for he did not want to bring the corporal of the guard down to his post until he had heard what the old negro had to tell him.

"Dat's jes' what you-uns done, Marse Marcy," continued Toby. "An' now dat man gwine tote you bofe out in de woods an' lick you like he was de oberseer an' you two de niggahs."

When Marcy heard this he did not know whether to laugh again or get angry over it. As time was precious he did neither, but began questioning Toby, who told a story that made the boy open his eyes. When it was concluded the fact was plain to Marcy that somebody had been trying to get him and Dick Graham into trouble; but who could it be? He knew that he had been airing his Union sentiments rather freely, but he wasn't aware that he had made any enemies by it. He wished the hour for his relief would hasten its coming, so that he might compare notes with Dick.

"You think it was the letter Bud received that put all these things into his head, do you?" said he, after a moment's reflection.

"You haven't any idea who wrote the letter or what else there was in it?"

"No sah, I aint. I wish't I had, so't I could tell you."

"Bud Goble mentioned Dick's name and mine while he was threatening us, did he?" continued Marcy.

"He did for a fac'. I didn't hear him, kase I wasn't dar; but Elder Bowen's niggah Sam was in de store when he 'buse de storekeeper, an' he was at de house when he come dar an' 'buse de elder for a babolitionist. You-uns want look out, Marse Marcy. Dat man mean mischief, suah's you born."

"Don't be uneasy," replied Marcy. "If Mr. Goble thinks he is going to catch us napping, he will find himself mistaken. I should like to see him and his friends come to this school and try to carry out their threats. There are plenty of Union boys among the students, parson."

"I'se suspicioned dat all along, sah, an' I'se mighty proud to hear you say so; I is for a fac'. Dere's a few of 'em in de settlement, but I'se mighty jubus what will happen to 'em when Marse Gobble gets on de war-paf, like he say he gwine do. He say he gwine lick de las' one."

"Then it is high time he was put under lock and key," said Marcy indignantly. "I hope if he goes to Mr. Bowen's house the elder will turn loose on him with that double-barreled shotgun of his."

"He say dat's what he allow to do; but I dunno," replied the old negro, shaking his head and looking at the ground as if he felt that troublous times were coming upon the earth. "It's gwine be mighty hot about yer, an' I dunno what we niggahs gwine do. I wish dem babolitionists up Norf shet dere moufs an' luf we-uns be. Dey gwine get us in a peck of trouble."

"And such fellows as Bud Goble seem perfectly willing to help it on," said Marcy, whose indignation increased, the longer he dwelt upon the details of the story Toby had told him. "For two cents I would muster a squad and go down to his shanty and turn him out of doors. We'll do something of the kind if the authorities do not put a curb on him."



"But dey hire him to do all dis meanness, Marse Marcy," exclaimed the negro. "He 'longs to dat committee."

"Don't you believe any such stuff. It is likely that he is in the pay of that committee, and more shame to them, but he doesn't belong to it. Now you run away, parson, because—"

"Hol' on, please, sah," interrupted the old man. "I want ax your device. I got a little money—not much, but jes' a little" (here he pulled from one of his capacious pockets a stocking filled half-way up the leg with something that must have been heavy, judging by the care he took in handling it),—"an' I'm that skeared of havin' it in de house dat I can't sleep. Marse Gobble 'lows to steal bacon an' taters of me now as often as he gets hungry, an' de fust ting I know he ax me for dis money; den what I gwine do? Take keer on it for me, please, sah."

"Why, parson, you're rich," said Marcy, reaching through the fence and "hefting" the stocking in his hand. "Is this all silver? Where did you get so much?"

"I earn it ebery cent, an' sabe it, too," answered Toby, with some pride in his tones. "It's all mine, but I 'fraid I aint gwine be 'lowed to keep it, now dat de wah comin'."

"I think myself that it will bring you trouble sooner or later. You ought never to have told anybody that you had it."

"Who? Me, sah? I never tol' de fust livin' soul in dis world. It got round de quarter some way, I dunno how, an' some of dem fool niggahs had to go an' blab it. Will you take keer on it for ole Toby, sah?"

"If I were going to stay in this part of the country I would do it in a minute," answered Marcy. "But I am liable to leave here at an hour's notice, and what should I do with it if I did not have time to take it to your cabin? Give it to your master, and ask him to take care of it for you."

"Oh, laws! Marse Riley secession de bigges' kind," exclaimed Toby, with a gesture which seemed that such a proposition was not to be entertained for a moment.

"No matter for that," replied Marcy. "He's honest, and what more do you want? He is a kind master, the best friend you have in the world, and you don't want to keep anything from him. Come to think of it, I wouldn't take the money, even if I were going to stay here. Go to Mr. Riley with it."

"You won't take keer on it for de ole niggah?" said Toby, who was very much disappointed. "Den I reckon I'd best bury it somewhars in de ground."

"You will surely lose it if you do that," protested Marcy. "Does Bud Goble know you've got it? Well, if he gets after you, he'll thrash you till you will be glad to tell where you have concealed it; but if you can tell him that it is in Mr. Riley's hands, he'll not bother you or the money, either. Now run along, parson. I see a uniform over there among the trees, and I shouldn't be surprised if the corporal was inside of it."

The old negro hastened into the woods, hiding the stocking somewhere about his patched clothes as he went, and Marcy brought his piece to "support arms," and paced his beat while waiting for the corporal to come up. It wasn't the corporal, after all, but a private like himself, who had come out to study his lesson and roll about on the grass. He did not speak to the sentry, but he was so close to him that Marcy could not have held any more private conversation with old Toby.

"It is nothing more than I expected," thought Marcy, recalling some of the incidents the negro had described to him. "Union men all over the South have been the victims of hotheaded secessionists, like those who compose that Committee of Safety, and now we're going to have the same sort of work right here in our midst. I don't believe that Bud Goble has organized a company for the purpose of running Northern sympathizers out of the State; he said that just to frighten Toby and a few others. But if he has, I hope he will bring them up here some night and try to take Dick Graham and me out of the building. I am glad those men had the courage to defy him to his face, and wish I could have seen Bud about the time the elder was walking him out of the yard."

It would seem from this that old Toby had told Marcy some things we do not know, and that Bud Goble's plans were not working as smoothly as he could have wished. Let us return to Bud and see where he was and what he had been doing since he took leave of his wife in the morning.

He left home with a light heart and a pocketful of bullets, and took a short cut through the woods toward Barrington. A few of the bullets were to be expended upon such unwary small game as might chance to come in his way, and with the rest, if circumstances seemed to require it, intended to make a show of being ready for business. He struck a straight course for the little grocery and dry-goods store, at which he had for years been an occasional customer, and thought himself fortunate to find the proprietor in. He was busy dusting the counter, but he was not alone. There were three or four others present, and when we tell you that they were Bud Goble's intimate friends, you will know just what sort of men they were.

"Mornin'," said Bud cheerfully. "Famblies all well? Mine's only jest tol'able, thank ye. What's the news?"

"There aint none," was the reply from one, to which the others all assented. "Are there any with you?"

"Well," said Bud slowly, at the same time edging around so that he could keep an eye on the storekeeper and note the effect his words produced upon him. "I don't rightly know what you-uns call news. I reckon you-uns heared that I was workin' for that Committee of Safety, didn't you?"

They had heard something of it in a roundabout way. Was there any money in the job, and what was he expected to do?

"There's a little money into it," answered Bud. "Jest about enough to pay me for my time an' trouble, but no more. I've gin some of them loud-talkin' folks, who think a nigger is as good as a white man, notice that they had best cl'ar outen the 'Federacy before they are drove out, an' go up to the United States among them that believe as they do."

"An' it sarves 'em jest right," observed one of Bud's friends, helping himself to a handful of crackers. "I'd like to see the last one of 'em chucked out bag an' baggage. But s'pose they wont go?"

"I'm hopin' they wont, for that's where the fun'll come in. That'll give we-uns—"

Just at this moment Bud was interrupted by the entrance of "Elder Bowen's nigger Sam," who removed his hat respectfully and kept on to the counter where the storekeeper was at work. Bud and his friends listened and heard him say:

"I aint got no change dis mawnin', Mr. Bailey, but—"

"That's all right, Sam," Mr. Bailey hastened to reply. "You are an honest workingman, and your credit is good. What did you say you wanted? A dress and a pair of shoes for your old woman? Well, how will these suit you?"

"Dog-gone the nigger, why didn't he keep away a little longer?" whispered Bud. "Them's the very things I wanted, an' mebbe ole man Bailey won't want to trust two fellers at once."

"Then lick him," suggested one of his friends. "He's nobody but a babolitionist, anyway."

"That's what I allow to do," answered Bud.

When the negro had received the goods he asked for, he leaned against the counter as if he were in no particular hurry to go away. This suited Bud, who drawled, in lazy tones:

"Yes; I've warned some of them nigger-lovers that they aint wanted here no longer'n it'll take 'em to get out, but I am hopin' they won't leave, kase that's where the fun'll come in. I'm gettin' up a company of minute-men to sorter patrol the kentry hereabouts, an' them that don't do to please us we are goin' to lick, niggers an' whites. We jest aint goin' to have no more talkin' agin the 'Federacy, an' them that's for the North kin go up there. That's what the committee says. Will you-uns jine?"

Of course they would, to a man, and they would like nothing better. They were ready at any time to prove their devotion to the Confederacy by thrashing or hanging everybody, white and black, who did not believe that secession and disunion were the best things that could happen for the South. Then Bud, seeing that he had plenty of backing, waxed eloquent and made a short but stirring speech. He dwelt upon the wrongs and insults that had been heaped upon the Southern States ever since they had shown themselves foolish enough to join the Union; denied that a black man was as good as a white gentleman; loudly proclaimed that all Northerners, as well as those who thought as they did, were cowards; denounced as traitors all Southern men who did not shout for President Davis, and said they ought and must be whipped out of the country; and through it all he kept watch of the two at the counter to see what impression his patriotic words made upon them.

Mr. Bailey was a little man who carried the weight of sixty-five years upon his shoulders, and Bud talked for his especial benefit, hoping to frighten him into compliance with the demands he was about to make upon him. Mr. Bailey was opposed to secession, and never hesitated to say so when politics came up for discussion, as they often did among his customers; but Bud was sure the old fellow was frightened now. He did not say a word in reply, but used his brush with more energy, and now and then rapped the counter with the back of it; and these, Bud thought, were unmistakable signs of timidity or, at least, nervousness.

As for darkey Sam, there was no doubting the impression Bud's eloquence made upon him. He was greatly terrified, for he remembered that his master had once denounced secession from the pulpit, and told the members of his congregation just what they might make up their minds to endure if it were consummated. Possibly Bud Goble recalled the circumstance, for he looked very hard at Sam while he was talking. As soon as the speech was brought to a close Sam sidled along toward the door, looking into the show-cases as he went, and presently found himself safe on the porch. Then he clapped his hat on his head and started for home post-haste.

"I reckon he's gwine tell the parson what you said," exclaimed one of Bud's friends. "Well, I do think Elder Bowen is one of the dangerousest men in the whole kentry, an' that he'd oughter be snatched outen that church of his'n before he has time to preach up any more of them pizen docterings. Warned him yet?"

"No; but I allow to do it soon's I get through with my business yer," replied Bud, throwing his rifle into the hollow of his arm, and sauntering up to the counter where Mr. Bailey stood. He affected a careless, confident swagger, which was by no means indicative of his feelings. Now that he could look closely at him he found that the storekeeper wasn't frightened enough, and that his speech had not accomplished half as much as he meant to have it. "You don't seem to be right peart this mornin'," he continued. "What's the matter of ye?"

"Nothing whatever," answered Mr. Bailey. "I'm as gay as a lark. Something wanted?"

"I reckon," replied Bud. "I want the same things you gin that there nigger a minute ago—a dress an' a pair of shoes for my ole woman."

"Got any money to pay for 'em?"

"Not jest this minute, but I shall have plenty this evening, an' then mebbe I'll—"

"Can't help it," said Mr. Bailey, shaking his head.

"Wont you trust me?"

"No, I won't. I told you so the other day, and when I say a thing of that sort I mean it."

"Do you give credit to a nigger before my face an' eyes, an' then refuse it to a white gentleman?" shouted Bud. "What do you do that-a-way for?"

"I run my business to suit myself," answered Mr. Bailey, without the least show of irritation. "If you don't like it, go somewhere else with your trade. I don't want it, any way."

"You think a nigger better'n a white man, do ye?" yelled Bud, growing red in the face. "What do you say to that, boys? Look a here," he added. "Mebbe you don't know who I am. I've got the power an' the will, too, to turn you houseless an' homeless into the street before you see the sun rise agin."

"I'll make moonlight shine through you while you are doing it," said the old man boldly.

"You will?" Bud brought his fist down upon the counter with tremendous force, and then he dived down into his pocket and brought out a handful of bullets, which he placed before the storekeeper. "Do you see them? I want to warn ye that they was molded a-purpose to be shot into traitors like yerself; an' I brung 'em along to show ye—"

"Take 'em off the counter. I've just dusted it," interrupted Mr. Bailey; and with the words he hit the bullets a blow with his brush that sent them in every direction.

Bud Goble was astounded, and so were his friends, who had never dreamed that there was so much spirit in that little, dried-up man. The former looked at him a moment, and then he looked at the bullets that were rolling about on the floor.

"Come around yer an' pick 'em up, the very last one of 'em, an' say yer sorry ye done it, an' that you'll never do the like agin, or I'll take ye up by the heels an' mop the floor with ye," said Bud, in savage tones. "Come a-lumberin'."

"Pick 'em up yourself, and next time keep 'em off my counter," was Mr. Bailey's answer. "What did you put them there for, any way?"

A glance at his friends showed Bud that they expected him to do something, and he dared not hesitate. He handed the nearest man his rifle to hold for him, peeled off his coat, gave a yell that was heard a block away, and was about to jump up and knock his heels together, when he happened to look toward Mr. Bailey, and stopped as if he had been frozen in his tracks. The old man was waiting for him. He leaned against a shelf behind the counter, but he held a cocked revolver in his hand.



CHAPTER VIII.

BUD GOBLE'S WATERLOO.

Did Bud Goble leap over the counter and wrench the threatening weapon from Mr. Bailey's grasp with one hand, while he throttled him with the other? We are obliged to say that he did not. He stood quite still, for something told him it would be dangerous to do anything else. This was the first time his courage had ever been tested, and he was found wanting; but, strange as it may appear, his friends did not think any the less of him for it. Under like circumstances they would have showed the same reluctance to pass the intervening counter. It was not Bud's lack of courage, but Mr. Bailey's pluck, that excited their ire. The latter had insulted their friend by refusing him the credit he had granted a field-hand, and now he had gone so far as to threaten Bud with a weapon. It opened their eyes to the fact that Union men were dangerous things to have in the community, and that they ought to have been driven out long ago.

"Sile, you've got the rifle," said Bud, who gained courage when his friends closed about him. "Why don't you draw a bead on him an' make him put that thing down?"

"Can't ye see for yourself that he's got the drop?" replied Silas, who thought discretion the better part of valor.

"Laws-a-massy, what's the matter of ye?" exclaimed Bud. "He dassent shoot."

"I don't b'lieve in fightin' no man when he's got the drop," repeated Silas. "Put on yer coat an' take yer rifle, Bud. This aint the onliest day there is in the world, an' the next time you ax him for the credit he's willin' to give a nigger, mebbe he'll hearken to ye."

"Pervided he's able to hearken to anything," observed another. "Look a-here, ole man, we-uns don't want sich chaps as you be in the kentry."

"I can easily believe that, but I don't see what you are going to do about it," answered the storekeeper, still holding the revolver so that he could cover Bud or any of his friends in a second of time. "I paid for this property with my own money, and I intend to stay here and enjoy it; and if any of you dispute my right to do so, I'll make it warm for you. Now clear out, the whole of you, and don't ever darken my doors again. I'll not sell you any goods if you come with your pockets full of cash."

"We-uns will go this time, kase we aint ready to begin business jest yet," said Bud, reaching out his hand for his rifle, but taking good care not to point it in Mr. Bailey's direction. "But we'll come agin when you aint lookin' for us, an' then you will want to watch out. We're goin' to drive all you babolitionists outen the kentry, as well as them fellers up to the 'cademy; an' as for that Gray an' Graham boy, who aint no kin if their names is alike, we're goin'—"

Here Bud was interrupted by a poke in the ribs given by one of his companions, who did not think it prudent for him to say anything about his plans, if he had any in mind. But he had already revealed enough to interest Mr. Bailey, who was a firm friend to both the boys whose names had been mentioned.

"Those fellows never did you any harm," said he.

"Didn't, hey?" vociferated Bud.

"No, they didn't. They bought quinine right here in this store to cure your wife and children of the ague when you did not have a cent or credit, either; and they paid the doctor to go and see them when you were loafing around, too lazy to do anything but eat. If you fool with those students you'll get something you won't like. You'll have them all on you."

"I aint speakin' about them things," shouted Bud, as soon as he could frame a suitable reply. "They're for the Union, dog-gone 'em. An' didn't they go an' offer me money to look for that there underground—"

"Haw, haw!" roared the storekeeper, at the same time raising the muzzle of his revolver to a level with Bud's head, when the latter, almost overcome with rage, made a motion as if he were about to draw his rifle to his shoulder. "That underground railroad business was a joke on you, wasn't it? But you don't want to fool with Rodney and Dick, for if you do you will get the worst of it. The students will all help them. Besides, Rodney is as wild a secessionist as you ever dare be."

"'Taint so," exclaimed Bud. "I know better."

"And Dick Graham stands ready to go with his State the minute she pulls down the old flag and runs up the new one," continued Mr. Bailey. "He said so the other day when he came in here for a pint of goobers [peanuts]."

"I tell ye it aint so," repeated Bud confidently. "Bein' one of the most prominent and respected citizens of Barrington, I got a letter tellin' me all about them chaps an' the docterings they're preachin' up. I was told that the committee wants me to 'tend to their cases, an' I'm goin' to do it; an' to your case too. Hear me, don't you?"

"Who wrote that letter?" inquired the storekeeper, who did not think it necessary to answer the question.

"I don't know. There wasn't no name hitched to it."

"Then the writer was a coward," said Mr. Bailey, in a tone of contempt, "and you ought not to pay the least attention to it. Somebody wants to bring those boys into trouble, and hopes to use you as a tool. If you will take advice you will mind your own business and let those students alone. Look here, Goble," he added suddenly, "if this State goes out of the Union, will you go with her?"

"You jest bet I will. I'll go whether she does or not."

"Will you join the army and fight for her?"

"Sartingly."

"Well, we'll see who will go first—you or I."

"You? Why, dog-gone it, you're for the Union."

"Of course I am; always was and always shall be; but as I can't control my State, I shall have to do as she does. So you see, when you tried to gouge me out of a pair of shoes and a dress awhile ago, you tried to rob as good a friend of the South as you are yourself. I'll make it my business to see some of that committee and find out whether or not they uphold you in such doings. Now, clear out and don't bother me again."

Almost involuntarily Bud Goble and his friends turned toward the door, and Mr. Bailey followed them, revolver in hand, to make sure that they went without trying to "get the drop" on him. As they faced about, "Elder Bowen's nigger Sam" glided across the porch, but they did not see him.

We said the negro, who was alarmed by Bud Goble's fiery speech, started for home, and so he did; but he had not made many steps before he heard Goble's voice pitched in a high key, and prompted by curiosity, and a desire to learn something of the nature and purposes of that company of minute-men of whom Bud had spoken, he came back and took his stand beside the open door out of sight. The slaves were all eavesdroppers in those days, and if anything escaped their notice and hearing, it was not their fault. They were better posted and took a deeper interest in the affairs of the day than many people supposed. The Northern papers, which now and then in some mysterious way came into their hands, just as the Tribune came into Uncle Toby's hands, told them the truth; while the white people around them pinned their faith to the falsehoods disseminated by the secession press. Sam stood on the porch and heard all that was said and saw all that was done in the store; and when Mr. Bailey brought the interview to a close by ordering Bud and his companions to "clear out," Sam made haste to get away before they caught sight of him. This time he went home and hunted up his master, who was at work in the garden.

Bud Goble had encountered an obstacle where he had least expected to find it; but although he was surprised, and a little disheartened, he would not admit that he was beaten. All Union men could not be as plucky as Mr. Bailey was, and Bud determined to try his plan again as soon as he could rid himself of the company of his four friends. He had no use for them just now, and if he succeeded in frightening Mr. Bowen into giving him a ham or a side of bacon, he did not want to be obliged to share it with any one.

"That's a trifle the beatenest thing I ever heared of," declared Silas, who was the first to speak. "I do think in my soul that that ole man oughter be dealt with. When does that company of your'n meet, Bud, an' how are we-uns goin' to get into it?"

"We aint met nowheres yet, an' to tell you the truth, I aint got the 'rangements fairly goin'," was the answer. "What I meant to say was, that I have been thinkin' of sich a thing; an' you can see from what happened in the store that a company of that sort is needed, can't you? S'pose you-uns talk it up. 'Pears like we'd oughter get twenty fellers of our way of thinkin' together, an' if we can, jest see how much help we-uns could be to that committee of our'n. Tell 'em what you've seen an' heared this mornin', that the kentry is full of sich men as Bailey is, an' that we aint goin' to have 'em here no longer. Now, where'll I find you-uns agin in about an hour so't we can talk it over? I'll be back directly I 'tend to a little private business I've got on hand."

The place of meeting having been agreed upon, Bud hastened away, confidently expecting to be successful in the attempt he was about to make to frighten a supply of provisions out of the Methodist minister. Elder Bowen did not believe in fighting, and of course it would be easy to make him open his smoke-house as often as he chose to demand it. Besides, Bud was made happy by a brilliant idea that suddenly popped into his mind; and in order that there might be no hitch in it at the critical time, he turned toward the post-office, hoping that he might find Mr. Riley there. He was not disappointed. Mr. Riley and a good many other planters about Barrington had taken to loitering around the telegraph and post offices during the last few months, and were generally to be met there or in the immediate neighborhood.

"Well, Goble, what is the news to-day?" he inquired, as Bud drew near and intimated by a wink that he would like to see him privately. There had been a time when Mr. Riley would have resented anything like familiarity on the part of such a man as Goble, but now that he wanted to use him, he was forced to treat him with a faint show of friendship.

"I don't get a bit of news of no kind," answered Bud, in a whining tone. "'Pears like the babolitionists all shet up their mouths soon's I come around. I've warned a few of 'em, but I aint seen no money for my trouble yet. My time is wuth a dollar and a quarter a day, an' when I give it all, it looks to me as though I oughter be paid for it; don't it to you?"

"Certainly," replied the planter, putting his hand into his pocket. "Our committee hasn't been organized long enough to get into working order yet, and so I shall have to give you something out of my own funds. How will that do to begin on?" he added, slipping a few pieces of silver into Bud's ready palm. "Go ahead with your work and come to me when you want anything. Whom have you warned?"

"Sarvent, sah," said Bud, pocketing the money. "Thank you very kindly, sah. Well, I've warned that there ole man Bailey, for one. He's pizen."

"Let him alone," said Mr. Riley, rather shortly.

"Why, he's Union the wust kind," exclaimed Bud, who was astonished as well as disappointed. He had hoped that the planter would tell him to drive the storekeeper out of town, and so furnish him and his friends with an excuse for any act of ruffianism they might be disposed to indulge in. "He'd oughter be whopped, ole man Bailey had, an' drove out before he has any more time to preach his docterings up amongst the niggers."

"You let him alone," repeated Mr. Riley. "He will come out all right. When the first gun is fired he will be as warm a secessionist as I am. Who else have you warned?"

Bud mentioned the names of three or four suspected men whom he had neither seen nor heard of for a week or more, and finally said that he was on his way to Elder Bowen's to tell him that he could not get out of the country any too quick.

"I don't care what you say or do to that man," exclaimed Mr. Riley, who grew angry at the sound of the minister's name. "He is dangerous, and always has been. He takes abolition papers. I don't know how they come into his hands, the mail being so closely watched, but he gets them, and I suspect gives them to Toby to read. If I could prove it on him, I would have him whipped this very night."

Bud Goble opened his lips to tell Mr. Riley that he could furnish him with all the evidence he needed, but suddenly remembered that that was something he intended to use for his own benefit. That was what he was holding over Toby like an overseer's whip, ready to fall whenever he didn't hoe his row right, and it was no part of his plan to expose the old negro unless the latter declined to keep him in provisions, or refused to surrender his money on demand. So he said nothing about finding that copy of the Tribune in Toby's cabin the night before, but came at once to the point he desired to reach.

"Then there's them boys up to the 'cademy," said he. "They need lookin' after, some of 'em, the very wust kind."

"I've heard that the school of which we have been so proud is a hotbed of treason, but I can hardly believe it," answered Mr. Riley. "No doubt there is strong love for the old Union there, as there is here in Barrington; but when the time for action comes, I think the majority of those boys will go with their States."

"But there's that Gray an' Graham boy," continued Goble; and it made him angry to notice that Mr. Riley could scarcely refrain from laughing outright. "If they was poor boys do you reckon they'd be allowed to hold out agin the 'Federacy like they do, an' talk agin it? I'll bet they wouldn't. But they are all rich. I reckon them boys' paps is wuth a power of money an' niggers."

"I don't know anything about Graham's family, but Rodney's is wealthy. His father has six hundred blacks on one plantation. You want revenge, don't you? Well, I don't see how you are going to get it, for if you fool with any of the students the others will jump on you, sure."

"Not if we whop the traitors," exclaimed Bud.

"Yes, they will. They are as clannish as a drove of wild hogs, and if one squeals the others will rush to his assistance. You had better take my advice and pocket the insult Rodney and Dick put upon you when they sent you to look for that underground railroad. Now I think I will go to the telegraph office and see if there is anything new from Montgomery. Keep us posted, for we like to know who our enemies are."

"You bet I will," soliloquized Bud as he turned away, jingling the silver pieces in his pocket as he went. "But I won't let them two boys get off easy, nuther. Six hundred niggers on one plantation. They're wuth eight hundred dollars, I reckon, take 'em big an' little, an' that would make 'em all wuth—"

When Bud reached this point he stopped and shook his head. Finding the value of six hundred slaves at an average price of eight hundred dollars was too much arithmetic for him. He was obliged to content himself with the knowledge that Rodney's father was worth a good deal of money, and that Rodney would give five hundred and perhaps a thousand dollars, rather than be whipped as if he were a black boy. A Southern youngster, no matter how disobedient and unruly he might be, considered it a disgrace to be whipped, and the school-teacher who ventured upon corporal punishment was likely to get himself into serious difficulty. While Bud was turning these things over in his mind, he came within sight of Elder Bowen's house.

"Riley don't care what I do to this chap," said he to himself. "That means that I can be as sassy as I please, an' mebbe I'll make up my mind that I'd better lick him before I leave. I'll wait an' see how he acts when I ax him for some of the things he's got into his smokehouse. Tell your moster I want to see him directly," he added, addressing a little black boy who was playing at the foot of the steps that led to the porch.

The pickaninny disappeared, but in a few minutes returned with the announcement—

"Marse Joe workin' in de ga'den, an' he say if you want see him you best come wha' he is."

"That's an insult that I won't put up with from no babolitionist," declared Bud, who was about as angry as he could hold; and one would have thought, from the vicious way he settled his rifle on his shoulder and crunched the gravel under his feet as he strode around the house, that he would surely do something when he found himself face to face with the object of his wrath.

The first thing that attracted the visitor's attention was a very broad back covered by a clean white shirt (Bud detested "boiled" shirts, for he had never had one of his own), and when the owner of that back straightened up and turned toward him, Bud was confronted by a man who stood six feet four without his boots, and was built in proportion. He had tucked up his sleeves to keep them from being soiled, and the white forearms thus exposed were as muscular as a blacksmith's. He had been waiting for this visit, for his boy Sam, who came from town a quarter of an hour before, had told him just what happened in the store, and warned his master that Bud had said in his speech that he was on the war-path, and meant to drive every abolitionist out of the country before he quit. But for all that the minister greeted Bud pleasantly.

"Well, neighbor Goble, what do you find to shoot this time of year?" said he. "It is rather early for young squirrels, and turkey and deer will not be on the game list before September."

"I aint a-lookin' for little game," answered Bud gruffly. "I'm huntin' for babolitionists, an' you're one of 'em."

"Well, now that you have found me what do you purpose doing about it?" inquired the stalwart minister, smiling at Bud in a way the latter did not like. Perhaps it wasn't going to be so easy, after all, to frighten him into handing over a ham or a side of meat.

"I came here purposely to tell you that you an' your kind aint wanted round yer no longer," said Bud. "You take babolition papers an' give 'em to old Toby to read."

"Can you prove that assertion?"

"Yes, I can. I seen one of 'em in his shanty last night, an' had it into my hand."

"But can you prove that I gave it to him?"

"Yes, I can," repeated End, growing bolder by degrees. "Everybody in town says it's you who spreads them papers around, kase there's no one else who is low enough down to 'sociate with niggers."

"That will do. I have heard enough of such talk."

"But I aint got half through," protested Bud. "One man told me, not more'n half an hour ago, that if he could prove it was you who give Toby them papers, he would have you licked before sun-up."

"Ah! And what would I do?"

"What would you do?" echoed Bud, who did not quite catch the minister's meaning. "You'd have to cl'ar yourself or take another an' wuss lickin'. Go up to the United States where you b'long. You aint wanted here."

"You don't understand me. If the gentleman of whom you spoke should attempt any violence, would I submit to it without trying to defend myself? I don't think I should. I have a double gun with fifteen buckshot in each barrel, and you may say you have been assured by me that I will shoot the first man who puts a hostile foot on my gallery [porch]. Now go."

"Then you'll shoot—"

"Go!" interrupted the minister; and Bud ought to have been warned by the flash in his eye that he was thoroughly in earnest.

"The best men in town say—"

"Will you go peaceably," said the minister, pointing toward the gate, "or shall I be obliged to pick you up and throw you off my grounds?"

He took a single step forward as he spoke, and in an instant Bud Goble jumped back and swung his rifle from his shoulder; but before he could think twice his antagonist, whose agility equaled his strength, was upon him, the weapon was twisted from his grasp, and Bud buried his face in the soft earth of a flower-bed. But the minister was not yet done with him. Holding the rifle in one hand he seized Bud by the neck with the other, jerked him to his feet, and walked him out of the gate and into the road at double time. Then he fired the rifle into the air and leaned the weapon against the fence.

"I think this ends our interview, neighbor Goble," said he, without the least sign of anger or excitement, "and I will bid you good-day. The next time you visit me come in a proper frame of mind, and I will receive you accordingly; but please do not bring me any more threatening messages."

"This beats me," soliloquized Goble, who, after seeing the minister disappear around the corner of the house, felt of the back of his neck to make sure that the strong fingers which grasped it a moment before had not left any holes there. "Who'd a thought that a preacher could a had sich an amazin' grip? I wasn't no more'n a babby in his hands. Now what's to be done? Be I goin' to put up with sich an insult? I guess I'd best set down yer an' think about it."

Bud Goble was a thoroughly subdued man now. The events of the morning had satisfied him that open warfare was not his best hold, and that if he hoped to accomplish anything and retain the confidence of the committee, he must make a decided change in his tactics. He must work in secret and under cover of the darkness, and now when it was too late, he wished he had adopted that method at the outset. If he had he wouldn't have lost his reputation. There were two men in the neighborhood he was quite sure he would not trouble again unless he had a strong force at his back, for they had threatened to shoot, and Bud believed they were just reckless enough to do it. When he reached this point in his meditations he chanced to look up and saw old Uncle Toby emerge from the thicket on one side of the road, take a few long, rapid steps, and disappear among the bushes on the other side. He held something tightly clasped under his coat, and seemed so anxious to avoid observation that Bud's suspicions were aroused at once.



CHAPTER IX.

THE COMMITTEE AT WORK.

Elder Bowen's negro boy Sam, who was working among the flower-beds with his master, sought safety in flight when Bud Goble's coming was announced, and, standing concealed behind an evergreen in the garden, saw and heard all that passed between the minister and the man who had come there to browbeat him. When Bud was ejected from the grounds Sam came out from his hiding-place grinning broadly.

"Marse Joe," said he, as soon as he could make himself understood, "dat beats all de sermons you ever preached all holler. It does so. But, Marse Joe, I 'fraid Marse Gobble gwine make ole Toby trouble all along of dat babolition paper. De nex' time he go dar he ax Uncle Toby whar he got dat money of his'n stowed away. Dat's what I 'fraid of, sah.'

"I didn't think of that, and perhaps it would be well for you to run over and put Toby on his guard," replied Mr. Bowen. "Neighbor Goble is on the war-path sure enough, and he would just as soon rob that old negro as to rob a white man. Tell Toby to give the money into his master's keeping."

Sam obeyed instructions, but we have seen that the suspicious old Toby was not willing to listen to advice. He was terribly alarmed when Sam told him what Bud had been about that morning, and taking advantage of his master's absence, and of his own position as helper about the stables, he dug up his money which he had buried before daylight, and posted off to the academy to have a talk with one of the Gray boys. He kept to the fields and gave the roads a wide berth; but he was obliged to cross one highway during his journey, and that was the time Bud Goble saw him. The old negro's actions excited Bud's interest as well as his suspicions, and having nothing else to do, he rose from his log and followed him.

And right here it is necessary to make a short explanation in order that you may understand what happened afterward. Rodney and Marcy Gray had been studying at the academy for almost four years, and although they were popular among all classes in and around Barrington, there were some, whites as well as blacks, who invariably got them mixed up, and never could tell one from the other unless they chanced to meet them in company. It was Rodney, the rebel, who helped Bud Goble when his family were all prostrated with the ague, and offered him a reward for finding that underground railroad, but it was Marcy, the Union boy, who picked the banjo with superior skill, danced and sung his way into the affections of the plantation darkies, and saved old Toby's melon-patch from being devastated by the students. These two had eaten a good many of old Toby's melons, and more than one Thanksgiving turkey which graced his table had been bought with their money. Believing from what Sam told him that his hard-earned wealth was not safe as long as he knew where it was, Toby decided that one of these two boys, the one he happened to find first, should be its custodian. Dick Graham, who was on duty at the front gate, told him where Marcy was, and the old man lost no time in making his way through the woods to his friend's beat. But Marcy declined to accept the responsibility, as we have seen, and so Toby took the money back and hid it in the ground whence he had taken it. He would have been better off—almost two hundred dollars better off—if he had done as Mr. Bowen and Marcy advised him to do; for Bud Goble dogged his footsteps every rod of the way, and Toby never once suspected it. Bud did not hear what passed between Toby and the sentry—he dared not go close enough for that; but he saw the stocking that went back and forth between the iron pickets of the fence, and he was in plain sight of the negro when he returned it to its hiding-place.

Here again Toby made a great mistake. If he had concealed the money under his cabin, within hearing and scenting distance of the coon dogs that were so numerous in the quarter, it would have been comparatively safe; but he was so very much averse to having it around him that he took it behind his garden-patch, rolled a decayed log from its bed and buried it there, covering it with his hands, and rolling the log back to its place.



"Dar now," said Toby, loud enough to be overheard by the man who was crouching in the bushes not more than twenty yards away. "Nuffin can't find it dar 'ceptin' de hogs, an' dey can't eat it."