A Rebellion in Dixie by Harry Castlemon (best books to read in life .TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Harry Castlemon
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“There is money hidden somewhere about here, and I am as certain of it as that I am alive,” said Leonard Smith, when the men who had composed the funeral procession had gone away. “If it were not that Leon has the secret stowed away in his head I would up-end him the moment I saw him; but if I can get him in the woods and make preparations to hang him, I’ll find out where the money is. I can’t do anything by myself, and I must have somebody to help me. Now, who shall I get?”
Fortunately it was an easy thing for Leonard Smith to decide upon this question. He thought over all the worthless fellows who occurred to his mind just then, and finally hit upon one who was just about of as much 390use in the world as he was. Caleb Coleman was on the island beyond a doubt—he was always around where he was certain there was no danger—and if he could only get over there and see him he was sure that he could induce him to lend a hand in finding the money. But the trouble was he did not care to go around where Leon was.
“I don’t know whether that boy is certain that I am looking for the money or not, but he acts as if he did,” said Smith, as he took a look around to make sure that he had not missed any place where he thought there was a chance of hiding the money.
He had removed every pile of boards there was about the farm-house and had dug under them until he saw that the earth had not recently been disturbed, and then threw the piles of boards back again. He had even been in the cow-stable and plied his search there; but with all his looking he could not find any place which bore the appearance of having been dug over, and he was almost inclined to give up his search in despair. But he had one more trump card to play, and the more 391he thought of it the more confident he became that it would surely work.
“Here’s one thing that I have got to blame old Sprague for,” said Smith, as he picked up his rifle—nobody ever thought of going abroad without a rifle in war times—and turned his steps toward the island. “He’s gone and sent off that Newman family, and if they were here I would know right where to go to find three good men to assist me; but seeing that he couldn’t mind his own business, I suppose Coleman is the best one I can get. I’ll bet I will make his eyes open if I promise him one thousand dollars in gold.”
Smith had not yet been over to the island, but it was no trouble at all for him to get there, for the boats were constantly employed in carrying over the household furniture of the refugees. He did not know that there were so many men in the county before, and when he came to look closely at them he found that the most of them were strangers. A great many of them, too, were dressed in rebel uniform, and they worked like honest men who were anxious to take their families to a 392place of safety; but he did not see Coleman there.
“I’ll bet I’ll find him on the island, laid down alongside the fire,” said Smith, as his boat touched the shore and he jumped off. “You may be sure that he wouldn’t do any work while there is anybody to do it for him.”
Smith was surprised to find that no one on the island had missed him, for nobody spoke to him. The majority of the men were busy building their houses and getting their household goods under cover, and well they might be. After they got through here they were to march in a body down to the hotel and meet the assault of that force which was coming to crush out the last vestige of the Jones-County Confederacy. The men all acted with a feverish eagerness, as if they were impatient to get at it. Smith thought, too, that if that invading force succeeded in following the Union men to their island they were bound to be whipped. The passage through the cane was long and winding, and at every turn there were barricades erected, behind which three 393or four hundred men could have resisted a thousand. These breastworks of logs had been thrown up by the party who came out to build the boats and without any orders from headquarters, and Mr. Sprague showed what he thought of them by praising the men without stint.
“You will make good soldiers some day,” said he. “The rebels can’t get in here any way they can fix it. They are bound to come in column when they assault these breastworks, because the cane is so thick that they can’t come in any other way, and before they can get in here they won’t have a man left.”
“There’s one of them now,” muttered Smith, as he caught sight of Mr. Sprague standing in the door of his lean-to. If Smith had only known it, Leon was in the act of reading the will. “If I can get a-hold of that boy of yours I’ll soon know as much as he does. He knows where the money is, and he will tell it all sooner than be hung.”
Mr. Sprague bowed to Smith as he passed by, but the latter didn’t pay any attention to him. The man wanted to know where he 394could find Coleman, but he was much too sharp to speak to Mr. Sprague about it. He kept on a little further, and found somebody of whom he could make inquiries. Another thing that attracted Smith’s attention right here was the air of neatness and order with which all the lean-tos were arranged. They were laid off in streets, so that one could go the whole length of them on the darkest of nights without stumbling over a brush shanty which contained some sleeping occupants.
“You will find Caleb up there on the outskirts of the camp,” said the man of whom he made inquiries. “He’s got sick of poleing the boats over, and so has gone up to camp to lie down.”
“Then he isn’t doing any work at all?” asked Smith.
“Work? Naw. He says he hain’t got but a little time to stay with his folks, and so he intends to see them all he can. When we go down there to meet the rebels, he is going to stay in camp.”
“Then he is just the man I want,” said Smith to himself, as he pursued his way toward 395Coleman’s lean-to. “I aint a-going to meet the rebels myself, and consequently I don’t blame him.”
Smith followed along up the street until he came to the end of it, and there he found Coleman. The lean-to that he had over him was not very secure, but Coleman didn’t seem to mind that. He lay stretched out on the bedding with his pipe in his mouth, and three or four dogs and as many children kept him company.
“Why don’t you put a roof on your lean-to?” asked Smith. “When it rains you’ll wish you had paid more attention to it.”
“Well, when it rains I can’t fix it; and now it don’t need it,” replied Coleman with a laugh. “It will do.”
“Why don’t you get out and pole the boats over?”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of men besides me to do that little thing,” replied Coleman. “Besides, I’ve poled some of them over until I am all tired out.”
“Well, get up, if you can. I want to see you.”
396“Anything particular?”
“You will think so when you hear it,” replied Smith, impatiently. “Kick some of those dogs out of the way and come along with me.”
Coleman arose with an effort, laid the children carefully aside and followed after Smith, who led the way around on the outside of the lean-to, being particular to keep out of sight of Mr. Sprague at the other end of the street. There he threw himself down upon the leaves and waited for Coleman to join him.
“Sit up closer—not so far off,” he said, when the man halted at least five feet away. “I have got something in particular that I want to say to you, and I don’t want anybody to overhear it.”
“It seems to me that you are mighty friendly, now that the old man is dead and you have come into his fortune,” said Coleman, moving up closer. “How much did you make out of that? I think I have heard you say that you wanted as much as twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars.”
“That’s what I said,” answered Smith, 397frowning fiercely. “But the trouble is I have not got it.”
“Who has got it, then?” demanded Coleman, looking surprised.
“That little snipe, Leon Sprague. Smith had no business to give it to him, but he did, and I am left out in the cold.”
“I say! That’s a pretty how-de-do, ain’t it?”
“I should say so. Now, I will give you a thousand dollars if you will help me to get it.”
“That’s a power of money, ain’t it? But how can I help you?”
“By going to Leon and telling him that I want to see him in the woods,” said Smith, sinking his voice almost to a whisper. “If I once get him out there, away from everybody, I will tell him that if he wants to see daylight again he can tell me where that money is.”
“Good gracious! What are you going to do with him? Kill him?”
Smith nodded.
“Then you can get somebody else to help you get that money,” said Coleman, drawing 398a long breath. “You won’t get any help out of me.”
“But think of the thousand dollars,” said Smith, who began to see that he had made a mistake.
“I don’t care if it’s twice a thousand dollars. I wouldn’t dare show my face in Jones county again.”
“You needn’t come back to Jones county,” said Smith, who began to fear that he had run against a snag when he least expected it. “I am not coming back. I am going over to the rebels.”
“Well, there! That’s just what I expected you to do. Here you promise to support this government, and then go back on it the first chance you get!”
“You say you won’t meet the rebels,” retorted Smith.
“I know it; but I didn’t say I was going over to them. Good land! You can get somebody else to help you,” said Coleman, rising to his feet. “That’s a little too dangerous a piece of business for me. If that’s all you wanted to say I’ll go back.”
399“Well, here, hold on a minute,” exclaimed Smith, who saw that it would not do to permit Coleman to go back among his friends feeling as he did now. “There is all of twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars in that will, and Leon knows where it is.”
“Let him keep it. That’s what I say.”
“Now, suppose, instead of hanging him,” continued Smith, paying no heed to the interruption, “we will just make believe to hang him—pull him up until he sees stars and then pull him down again. We could do that.”
“No, we couldn’t. Leon’s eyes would be unbandaged, and he could easy see who pulled him up. I tell you you had better get somebody else.”
“Well, I supposed you were willing to work hard for a thousand dollars,” said Smith, in disgust. “But you are willing to live along just as you are now, without any thought for the morrow. Thank goodness, there are plenty of men in this party who will help me.”
“Then you had better get one of them.”
“You won’t say anything about what I have told you?”
400“Never a word; only, don’t mention it to me again. I would rather be poor all my life than make a living in that dishonest way.”
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