True To His Colors

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 theTribune 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 – "