Chapter 24:
- A perilous ride. -- a suspicious peddler. -- Uncle Gallus again. -- Scobell investigating. -- doubts and suspicions.
It was on a beautiful morning in the early part of the month of April, 1862, when a lady, mounted upon a handsome and spirited black horse, and accompanied by a young and intelligent-looking negro, also excellently mounted, rode out of the city of Richmond, apparently for the purpose of enjoying a morning ride. Provided with the necessary passports, they experienced no difficulty in passing the guards, and after a short ride found themselves in the open country beyond the city.
The lady was young, handsome and apparently about twenty-five years of age. Her complexion was fresh and rosy as the morning, her hair fell in flowing tresses of gold, while her eyes, which were of a clear and deep blue, were quick and searching in their glances. She appeared careless and entirely at ease, but a close observer would have noticed a compression of the small lips, and a fixedness in the sparkling eyes that told of a purpose to be accomplished, and that her present journey was not wholly one of pleasure. [368]
After leaving the city the colored attendant spurred to her side, and then, putting spurs to their horses, they broke into a swift canter. Their road lay along the river bank, which here led in a southeasterly direction. Turning to the negro at her side, the lady remarked:
Now, John, we have a ride of ten miles before us, and we must be at Glendale as early as possible.
“All right, missus,” rejoined her sable companion, “dese hosses will take us through in good shape, I know.”
They followed the course of the stream, whose waters glistened in the rays of the morning's sun like polished silver. On either side the road was fringed with a growth of cottonwood trees, that cast a grateful shade along their path, while the cool breezes of the rippling river rendered their ride a most delightful one indeed. But as they sped along the most casual observer would have noticed from the expression of their faces that their ride was being undertaken for other purposes than pleasure.
The riders pressed on, scarcely slackening their speed until in the near distance could be seen the tall spire of the single church in the pleasant little village of Glendale. They now drew rein and brought their smoking steeds to a slow walk, and riding leisurely onward, they stopped before a neat little inn located on the outskirts of the town.
An old, white-headed negro took their horses and [369] led them away, while the landlady, a neat and tidy-looking matron, wearing widow's weeds, met the lady at the door, and cordially welcomed her into the house.
“Here, Jennie,” she called to her daughter, a trim little girl of twelve years, “show this lady to her room.”
Following the little girl, the lady was conducted into a cool and pleasant little parlor, with windows opening upon the garden, and through which came the fragrant breath of roses in full bloom.
Scobell accompanied the old man with the horses into the stable-yard, where he assisted in caring for the heated animals.
“ I dun spose you's on de way to Yu'ktown?” queried the old darky, who was rubbing vigorously away upon the limbs of the glossy black horse. After waiting a short time, and hearing no response, he added:
What'd you say? dis yer hoss is fidgettina arouna so I didn't har you.
“ I didn't say anything,” responded his companion good-naturedly, but in a tone that plainly indicated his intention not to submit himself to the pumping process at the hands of his garrulous friend.
“ I tought you hearn what I dun axed you,” replied the old man, a little taken aback by the cool demeanor of his new acquaintance.
Scobell, however, industriously worked away at his own horse and said nothing. [370]
“Well,” said the old darky after another pause, and apparently communing with himself-“it am a faca dat now an den you meets people dat ain't got de cibbleness to answer a question-nor de grit to tell a feller 'tain't nun oa his business; but dey jes let on like dey didn't har wat you sed-wen all de time dey kin har jes as well as I kin.”
Still there was no satisfactory response, and at last the old man blurted out again:
Now I dun speca it am nun ob Uncle Gallus's bizness were dese folks am a goina, but Jemima! I didn't tink it any harm to ax. Folks dat knows Uncle Gallus aint afeared tu tell him nuffin, coz dey knows he dun got a mitey close head when it am needcessary.
The old man was none other than the veritable old Uncle Gallus, whose experience in the South seemed to be very different from the easy life he had led as the house servant of Mrs. Morton. How he came into this position I am unable to say, but here he was, and the same smile of good-nature irradiated his face, as when his way of life was pleasant, and his duties lighter. Perhaps, it would be as well to state here, that the two persons already mentioned were Mrs. Carrie Lawton, a female operative on my force, and John Scobell, who has figured before in these pages. These two persons had been for a time employed in Richmond, and were now endeavoring to effect their journey North. [371]
After finishing the last remark, Uncle Gallus straightened himself up and stood erect, with the air of a man who had been unjustly injured, and who was disposed to vindicate himself now and there.
“ I tell you, uncle,” finally replied Scobell, “there are times when one must be careful what you say, and who you say it to.”
“Dat am a faca!” ejaculated the old man.
“Now, if I knowed you was all right,” Scobell continued, “I might talk, but 'tain't smart to tell your business to strangers.”
“Dat am a faca, young man,” observed Uncle Gallus, shaking his head with a knowing look; “but den I spose you's a friend to Uncle Abe, ain't you now?” he queried.
“And if I am,” said Scobell, “what do you want?”
“ Light and Liberty,” replied the old man impressively, “and foa de L'ud I b'lieve de day am nigh when it am a comina”
At these words, Scobell stepped forward and said in a low voice:
Do you belong to the League?
“I does,” answered Uncle Gallus; “I dun jined it in dis berry place.”
“How often do you meet?” inquired Scobell.
“We meets ebery two weeks, down at Uncle Dicky Bassett's-he libs on de bluff ob de ribber [372] 'bout a mile furder down de road to'rds Wilson's Landina.”
“ How far is it to Wilson's landing?” asked Scobell, who, finding that Uncle Gallus was a member of the League, was now no longer loth to talk with him.
“ A little grain de rise ob twenty mile,” replied the old man.
“About sundown, then,” said Scobell, “these horses must be saddled and ready for the missus and me, for we must be at the landing before midnight.”
“All right,” rejoined Uncle Gallus, “dey'll be ready when yu want 'em.”
“See heah now, is yure name John?” suddenly asked the old man, as if an idea had just occurred to him.
“ Yes, that's what they call me.”
“ ana you cum frum Richmuna dis mo'nin!”
Scobell nodded.
“Ana dat young leddy am gwine to meet somebody, mebbe her husband, at de landina?”
“Yes,” said Scobell; “but how do you know these things? Has anybody been here to see you?”
“Yah! Yah!” chuckled the old man. “I dun tole you dat folks as knowed Uncle Gallus dun often come ter see him. I dun knowed you all de time, when you fust come — in faca, I was 'spectina you and de missus all de mawnina.”
“ Was the landlady looking for us too?” inquired Scobell. [373]
“She knowed you was a comina,” replied Uncle Gallus; “dah was a gem'man heah las' night, as talked about you to her, ana lefa a note fur de lady.”
“Is the landlady all right?” asked Scobell.
“True to de core,” affirmed Uncle Gallus emphatically; “more'n one poor feller as 'scaped from Richmuna hes founa a good bed ana supper at de ‘Glen House.’ ”
“Well,” said my operative, “you can finish your work here; I have an errand or two for the missus, and I must go and attend to them before dinner.”
So saying, he started for the house, leaving Uncle Gallus to water and feed the horses, which had now sufficiently cooled, and were enjoying their needed rest.
Scobell's errand was simply to take a stroll about the village in order to ascertain whether there was any indication of their having been followed by anyone from Richmond. He strolled about the village, noting carefully every one whom he met, and, feeling comparatively secure, started to return to the hotel.
Turning the corner of a street he came suddenly face to face with a peddler, who addressed him in a rich Irish brogue and inquired the way to the tavern. Scobell gave him the required information and stood watching the fellow as he ambled off in the direction indicated. There was something in the appearance of this man that attracted the attention and excited the suspicions of my observant operative. He resolved [374] to keep an eye upon his movements and endeavor to discover, if possible, whether the man was a genuine peddler, or a spy, who had adopted that disguise to conceal his true character.
In the few words that passed between them Scobell had noticed that while the man's hair was a fiery red his eyebrows and lashes appeared of a dark brown color, and his face was altogether of too florid a hue to be natural. These observations were sufficient to put Scobell upon the alert at once, and convinced him that the man was not what he appeared to be.
Following slowly he watched him until he reached the hotel and entered the bar-room, where, laying aside his pack, he ordered his dinner. Scobell entered the room immediately behind him, and passing through it, he made his way to the kitchen, where the landlady was superintending the preparations for a most savory dinner. Calling her aside, he informed her of the peddler's arrival and of his suspicions regarding him, cautioning her to convey the news to his missus before they met at the table.
In a few minutes dinner was announced, and the boarders, to the number of fifteen, including Mrs. Lawton and the peddler, with the landlady at the head, gathered around the long table in the low, old-fashioned dining-room. The lively clatter of the knives and forks soon attested the vigor with which they attacked the viands set before them. The peddler ate [375] his meal it silence, undisturbed by the general conversation going on around him, and Mrs. Lawton noticed that he was keenly watching her whenever an opportunity occurred to do so, as he thought, unobserved. She, however, affected entire unconsciousness of the scrutiny she was subjected to, and kept up an animated conversation with the landlady upon various trivial topics until the meal was finished.
Scobell, who temporarily acted as an attendant at the table, lost no opportunity to carefully watch the movements of the peddler, and his searching glances, directed towards Mrs. Lawton, fully convinced him that his previous suspicions were well founded.
Mrs. Lawton returned to her room, not a little disturbed at the peddler's strange behavior, and having no doubt that the stranger was a spy, she determined to discover if she was the object of his visit, or whether his appearance bore any relation to her presence at the hotel. She accordingly sent for Scobell, and together they decided that he should carefully watch the movements of the peddler, and if nothing of a suspicious nature transpired, they would renew their journey after nightfall.
Scobell immediately left the room, and as he entered the bar-room he noticed that the peddler was settling his score, preparatory to taking his departure. He remarked to the landlady, with the same rich [376] brogue which Scobell had observed, that business was dull, and that he would have to walk to Richmond.
“All right, my fine fellow,” muttered my operative, “we'll see whether you are going to Richmond or not.”
The peddler lighted a short-stemmed clay pipe, and swinging his pack over his shoulder, set off at a rapid pace on the road to Richmond.
Scobell hastened to the stable and, procuring a pole and line that he had observed there in the morning, started off in the direction which the peddler had taken, but taking a shorter cut to the river, which would enable him to reach the road about a mile below the village and in advance of the peddler. Sauntering along until he had gained the shelter of a belt of timber to his left, he then increased his pace until he was almost abreast of the peddler, though entirely concealed from view. He was now satisfied that with a little effort he could keep his man in sight, and he concluded not to pass him, as he had at first intended, but to follow him until he saw him on his way to the rebel capital.
When they were about three miles from the village, the peddler suddenly left the road and turned into the woods, leading directly to the banks of the river, which at this point were remarkably high and steep. This movement was entirely unexpected by my operative, and his only recourse was to drop hastily [377] behind a tree to prevent being seen. He was not discovered, however, although the peddler, after entering the timber, gazed carefully around him, as if to see whether he was being followed. Apparently satisfied with his survey he resumed his walk, in happy ignorance of the fact that a pair of gleaming eyes were not far distant, noting his every movement.
Waiting until he had gone a sufficient distance to render it safe, Scobell rose slowly from the ground and stealthily followed his footsteps until the peddler paused at the edge of the bluff, which ran down into the river. Here he tightened the strap of his pack, and after another hasty glance behind him, he began the descent of the bluff, with the aid of the stout stick which he carried with him. The bank was almost perpendicular, and was covered with a heavy undergrowth of young timber and brush, which made the journey rather a hazardous undertaking.
“ Wonder if he's going to swim to Richmond with that pack on his shoulders,” said Scobell to himself, as he wonderingly watched these strange movements of the peddler.
Fully determined to see the end of this mysterious maneuver, but recognizing the necessity of exercising the utmost caution in his advance, Scobell slowly and noiselessly made his way to the spot where the peddler had vanished as completely from his view as if he had sunk into the bowels of the earth. [378] Advancing to within a few feet of the edge of the bluff, he threw himself upon his hands and knees, and drew himself forward until he could overlook the steep descent. He could see nothing of the peddler, however, for the dense growth of bushes completely obstructed his view, but he could readily discern the marks of footprints in the soft soil, which had been made by him in his descent to the bottom.
Here was a dilemma. He had lost his man, and he dared not follow directly after him, as the peddler might be lying in ambush, and an encounter might be fatal. After a few moments' consideration, he concluded to walk along the bluff a short distance and endeavor to find another path by which he might descend, and thus avoid the peddler, if he was waiting to surprise him. About a hundred yards further on he came upon a well-beaten path, and here he began his descent. Everything was as quiet as the grave around him, and he reached the base of the cliff in safety, but without seeing anything of the man he was after. Passing up along the lane by the river a short distance, he discovered a narrow path leading in the direction which the peddler had taken, and showing the mark of recent footprints. Passing cautiously along this path a short distance, he saw that the high bluffs were gradually giving to more level banks, and that a little further on the stream made a sharp detour to the right, and swept out into the open and level country. [379]
In the bend of the river, and on the same side, he noticed a small cabin, half hidden by a clump of trees. Surmising that the peddler had entered this cabin, he resolved to hide himself and watch for a few minutes, hoping that the man would soon make his appearance. He had scarcely taken a position where he could unobservedly note all that was going on, when a man, whom he at once recognized as the peddler, made his appearance at the door, and stood anxiously gazing around, as though expecting some one. He still maintained his disguise, and appeared to be alone. Returning into the cabin, and after a few minutes, to the surprise of Scobell, another individual made his appearance. This new-comer, while about the same size as the peddler, was a very different-looking person indeed, for instead of the red hair and florid complexion, he noticed that this man had a closely-cropped head of black hair, while his complexion was dark and swarthy.
“ So there's a pair of you!” thought Scobell.
The fellow, after apparently satisfying himself that the coast was clear, proceeded to a small stable that stood in the rear of the cabin, and almost on the edge of the river bank. Scobell thought he heard the faint whinny of a horse, and shortly afterwards the man, mounted on a dark iron-gray horse, appeared, and made his way over the hill and out into the direction of the river road.
It instantly flashed across Scobell's mind that this [380] man was no other than his peddler, and without hesitation he approached the cabin and knocked loudly at the door. There was no response, and after a moment's hesitation he lifted the latch and entered. As he had conjectured, the cabin was empty.
 |
| “Good-morning.” |
