“That’s all right,” repeated Mr. Smith, as Leon seated himself close by his side. “I didn’t want that Leonard Smith to hear a word I had to say to you, for he is a slippery fellow, and I don’t deny that I have detected him in efforts to steal money from me. The funds I have got— Put your hand inside my vest and pull out my pocket-book.”

Leon arose to his feet and was about to comply with the man’s request when the door of the parlor was tried with a careful hand, but the lock prevented intrusion.

“That’s Leonard,” said Mr. Smith. “Let him work. He has got rid of the doctor and was coming in to hear what I had to say to you. That’s it,” he continued, as Leon drew out a pocket-book which was made so large that it would contain bills at full length. “Now, put it in your pocket and button it up and give it to your father the first thing you do. My will is in there, and my money is all bequeathed to you.”

Leon gasped, but he had never thought of anything like this, and he didn’t know what to say to it. Finally he stammered:

“Do you think it right, Mr. Smith, to take all this money away from Leonard and give it to me, who—”

“I have a right to do what I please with my own,” interrupted Mr. Smith. “I have worked hard for every cent of it, and I have made it all. The money is all in gold, and the will tells where to find it; but don’t you let Leonard get hold of the pocket-book, for if you do he will cheat you out of it. Keep watch of him the first thing you do, and don’t let him catch you off your guard. Now, Leon, that’s all. Hand me a drink of water. This fever, or something else in me, is burning me up.”

Leon made all haste to bring the wounded man a tumbler of water from the table, and when he had drained it he thought it wise to provide for the use of the money in case Mr. Smith’s injuries should not be as severe as they thought.

“Of course, if you get well,” he began.

“Why, then, of course, I’ll get the money back. I understand that; but, Leon, you don’t want to talk about such things. I know when I am done for as well as anybody. Now you may unlock the door and let Leonard in. After that, take the money up and give it to your father. It is all willed to you, mind you, but of course your father will have full charge of it until you are twenty-one. Now unlock the door.”

Leon lingered a moment. Something told him that he would not see Mr. Smith alive again, and he wanted to bid him good-bye, but he didn’t know how to go about it. The wounded man was getting impatient, so he stepped up and shook him by the hand; after that he unlocked the door, and he unlocked it so suddenly that it came open with a jerk, and Leonard Smith, who was leaning over with his ear close to the key-hole in the hope of hearing something that would be of use to him, came into the parlor on all-fours. He didn’t apologize for his abrupt entrance, and neither did Leon for letting him into the room so suddenly, while Mr. Smith looked the disgust he could not express in words.

“If I were in that man’s place I should feel so ashamed of myself that I couldn’t look Mr. Smith in the face,” said Leon, as he bounded up the stairs that led to the President’s room. “But I suppose he has been caught in so many tricks that he isn’t ashamed of anything. Father,” he added, in a whisper, “this is what Mr. Smith wanted to see me about. This pocket-book has got his will in it, and tells us where to find his money. How much of it there is I don’t know; but he wanted me to give it into your hands, with instructions to look out for Leonard Smith.”

“Ah!” said Mr. Sprague, taking the pocket-book and slipping it inside his vest. “So Leonard has got onto it in some way or another, has he?”

“Yes; and it was all Mr. Smith could do to get him out of the parlor when he wanted to talk to me. He says don’t you let Leonard catch you off your guard one instant, for if you do he will cheat you out of it.”

“Why, if the money is made over to you I don’t see what Leonard can have to do with it.”

“But he will find out where the money is hidden, and go there and dig it up.”

“Well, I reckon Mr. Leonard won’t get it now,” said Mr. Sprague, buttoning his vest.

“No, I don’t think he will. Now, hadn’t you better go down and see Mr. Smith? He thinks he isn’t going to last much longer.”

“I will go down and see him now. I hope he will get well, so that he can have this money back again.”

Mr. Sprague laid down his pen and got upon his feet, and just then there was a rumble of wagons in front of the house, which told them that some of the wounded had arrived. Leon went down to assist them and to look for Ballard, whom he wanted to introduce to the President, while his father went on to the parlor. Leon found that there were four wagon-loads of wounded rebels there, and while he was looking around watching for a chance to lend a hand his father came to the door and beckoned to him.

“He has gone,” said he, when Leon approached within speaking distance.

“Is he dead?”

“Yes; and all his pockets are turned inside out.”

Leon followed his father into the parlor, and they found no one there except the doctor and Leonard Smith. The doctor shook his head and turned and went out, while Leonard stood in his accustomed place at the foot of the sofa, and did nothing but glare at the father and son. The pockets had evidently been searched, and Leonard did not have time to put them back again before the doctor came in. Leon drew a long breath of relief when he saw how mad Leonard was. He had arrived home just in the nick of time. If he had delayed his coming half an hour the pocket-book would now be in the possession of one whom Mr. Smith did not want to have it. But it was plain Leonard did not intend to give it up in this way. As Leon took hold of the sheet to spread it reverently over the dead man’s face, Leonard suddenly aroused himself and seemed determined to find out where the pocket-book was.

“I would thank you to give up what you got from him when I went out,” said he, and he was so angry that he could scarcely form the words into a sentence.

“What did I get?” inquired Leon, while his father straightened up and looked at him without speaking.

“You got a pocket-book, or something else, in which he kept his will,” said Leonard. “That pocket-book is mine, and I am bound to have it.”

“It’s safe,” replied Mr. Sprague. “I’ll tell you what I will do in order to find out whether it is in the possession of the one who ought to have it. As soon as these troubles are all over I will take out the will and read it in the presence of the men—”

“But I don’t intend to remain out of my money so long,” interrupted Leonard. “Some of these rebels might come here and dig down and find it. If I have it now it will be safe.”

“How do you know it is in the ground?”

“Well, I just suppose it is. I don’t know any other place he could put it where it would bewould be equally safe.”

“I told you that I would read the will in the presence of the men and let them decide who owns the money. More than that I cannot promise.”

“Now, I will just tell you what’s the gospel truth,” said Leonard, leaving his place at the foot of the sofa and striding up and shaking both his clinched hands in Mr. Sprague’s face.

“Put down your hands or I will have you arrested in a minute!” said Mr. Sprague, not in the least alarmed by the other’s threatening manner.

“I will shake my fists in your face or in anybody else’s face who intends to rob me of my birthright!” exclaimed Leonard, at the same time allowing his hands to fall by his side. “I tell you that I will camp on that place every night, and woe be to the man or boy who comes there after that money. He will not get away with it.”

“I hope you have said enough in the presence of this dead man—”

“He was my cousin; that is what he was,” shouted Leonard.

“—of this dead man to make you ashamed of yourself,” said Mr. Sprague. “Now, we will go out.”

“But I want you to understand what I said about camping on that place,” said Leonard. “The man or boy who gets that money don’t get away with it.”

Mr. Sprague and Leon went out without making any reply, the former going back to the President’s room to resume his work upon the paroles, and his son to wander aimlessly about, with no disposition to do any work, although he saw plenty of it before him. After awhile he found Tom Howe, and both his friends with him. They were tired of removing wounded rebels and were now going up to Tom’s camp for a good nap. Ballard was evidently much impressed with the sharp-shooting the Union men had done, and declared that he had never seen the beat.

“I don’t see how any of our fellows came out alive,” said he, and his astonishment was so great that he threw his arms about his head. “You Union men are dead shots!”

“Well, there are plenty of deer and bear loose in the swamps, and squirrels in abundance,” said Leon, “and you can’t expect that men who sometimes have to depend on them for a living will miss them every time.”

“Come on, Leon,” said Dawson. “You’ll have to go up to Tom’s camp, too. We haven’t heard your story yet.”

Leon began his story as they walked along, and as he did not have very much to tell, anyway, his companions knew all about it by the time they got to the place where Tom had left his mule. Tom was disgusted when Leon told him about his being captured by one man, and more than all by such a man as Dan Newman, but he was elated just as much when Leon told how Ballard had taken him into the woods and given him something to eat.

“Howdy, Mr. Ballard,” said Tom, walking up and shaking the Texas rebel by the hand. “I didn’t get a chance to shake hands with you before, but now I am glad to see you. That boy is a friend of mine, and if you do anything for him it is as though you did it for me. Now, we will take some supper and then go to bed.”

While Tom was kindling the fire Leon related to him the particulars of Mr. Smith’s death, and to say that Tom felt quite as badly as Leon did would be telling nothing but the truth. He did not say anything about the will which he had given into his father’s care, or about the trouble that Leonard Smith had threatened to make on account of it, for something told him that he had better keep that to himself. Thus far, he and Mr. Sprague were the only ones that knew anything about it. Of course, he would have been perfectly willing to have trusted Tom with his secret, but there were other men there, Ballard and Dawson, of whom he knew nothing. How did he know that they would not hunt for the money and make off with it? It was hidden in the ground somewhere. Leonard seemed to think that that was the place he would go to find it, and if he told everybody of it they would dig Mr. Smith’s farm full of holes but that they would find it.

“I don’t think I had better say anything about that,” said Leon to himself, after he had thought the matter over. “I will talk about it to father the first chance I get. These men will all be poor when this war is settled, and they may fight about the money as readily as they fired into that regiment of cavalry.”

During the week following there was nothing happened that would be of interest to you, although it was full of interest to the Union men of Jones county. In the first place, as soon as they had eaten breakfast, the prisoners who had been captured the day before were summoned to the hotel, and there signed their paroles. They did it, too, knowing full well what was to be expected if they didn’t keep them, for Mr. Knight was there, and he went over the same speech he had delivered to the captain in his room. There were a number of wagons, and the wounded were placed carefully in them, and they were to be taken away and delivered to their friends. There were also two hundred Union men with them who were to guard them as far as the bridge, and then they were to bid them good-bye and come back.

“I hope,” said Mr. Knight, after he had got through with his speech, “that you all have been treated right since you have been here.”

“Oh, yes, sir,” responded a dozen voices. “You have treated us like we were your own.”

“Then I hope that if you get any of my boys in the Confederate lines you will treat them in the same way. That’s all. Go on.”

Mr. Knight did not raise any objections when the men took off their hats and gave him a cheer. He simply bowed and went up the stairs that led to his room.

The next thing was taking Mr. Smith and Bach Noble, and several other men who had been killed and wounded during the fight with the cavalry, to their homes. It was done with rather more of solemnity than had yet been displayed, and a long line followed after each man who had given up his life in defence of the flag. Mr. Sprague and Leon went with the man who had bequeathed them all he had in this world to give, and saw a grave dug where he had always said he would wish to be laid, and when the ceremony was over they came back to the hotel very much depressed in spirits. And it was a long time before they got over thinking about Mr. Smith. He was so lively and full of fun that he was sadly missed, but it was not long before something else demanded their attention. There was one thing that Leon was glad to see. Leonard Smith was not present at the funeral. It was not the man he cared for—it was the money he thought he had laid away, and which he believed he was in duty bound to get, seeing that Mr. Smith had no one else to bestow it upon. But he saw that he was not likely to get it by fair means, and so he kept out of the way.

There was another thing that happened during the week that made the Union men draw a long breath of relief. The boats which that squad had been sent up to build were all done, and now it needed nothing but a strong force of Confederates, much too large to be handled by them, to send the last man of them over to the island, where they would be comparatively safe. They were now ready to fight, and they didn’t care how soon it was forced upon them. During that week, too, a large number of men, probably two hundred of them in all, came in to give themselves up. Some of them were on foot, and others had their wagons along loaded with their families and household furniture. They had heard the particulars of the capture of that wagon-train, and believing that the men in Jones county were in earnest, and that they did not intend to be forced into the rebel army, they watched their opportunity and came in by night. And this wasn’t the worst of it. There were more came in every day, until Leon wondered where they should get food for them all.

“I don’t think the rebels knew how many fighting men there were about here,” said he. “We must have as many as twenty-five hundred men here.”

“Yes, and I guess if you had said double that you wouldn’t have been far out of the way,” said Ballard, who stuck close to the boys wherever they went. “It will take ten thousand men to whip us.”

“Do you suppose that Jeff Davis can send that number of men up here? We are only one little part of the Confederacy, and I should think he would want to save his men for something else.”

“He may now, but he won’t after a while. When Mobile becomes surrounded by Union troops, as she certainly will, he will need all the men he can get.”

And there was one other thing that happened during this week that caused Leon and Tom to look at each other in perfect astonishment. It proved that the chief men of the county, although they might act so very innocent, were not to be taken unawares. They had spies out. Some of them went to Mobile to see what they could find there that was worth looking at, especially to keep track of that strong force which they knew would be sent against them sooner or later, and the others went up into the interior of the State to keep a lookout for some more wagon-trains. These men took their lives in their hands, for every one of them that went into the Confederate lines was dressed in a rebel uniform. If they were caught and could not make a good excuse in regard to the regiment and company they belonged to, they would be hanged. Leon had been so very busy ever since he came into camp that he had not had time to learn all these things; but there was one other thing that he did learn which afforded him infinite gratification. It was what happened to Mr. Newman and family. They had been arrested as soon as Mr. Sprague found out, or rather mistrusted, that one of their number could tell more about Leon’s absence than any one else, and Bass Kennedy’s corn being thrown out of the calaboose, they were chucked in there, and guards placed over them to be sure that they stayed, too. Of course, Mr. Sprague was very much astonished when he learned that Dan had made a prisoner of Leon and had been wounded and captured by the pickets, and when he was brought to Ellisville he had him put into the jail with his father and mother. On the morning that the prisoners were sent away they were given a wagon to themselves and forwarded to the rebels in Mobile, and Leon never heard of them afterward. We may tell you, however, that Dan’s arm was amputated when he got among the doctors, and Cale never recovered his good looks. He looked as if his jaws were sunk in, and all the negro-twist he could get in them would not make them look any different.

By this time everything had been got ready for the visit of that force which was to crush out the rebellion of the Jones-County Confederacy. We don’t say that Mr. Sprague and the other chief men looked upon it as boys’ play, because they knew well enough what it meant. The actions of the regiment of cavalry which came in there, as well as the threats they had made that they were “going to sweep everything clean,” and that before night there wouldn’t be a Union man left, showed them that they couldn’t hope for any mercy. The head men of the Confederacy would be hanged, and the others would be forced into the rebel army. Mr. Sprague talked this all over with Leon, but the latter did not exhibit any signs of wavering.

“Well, I suppose if that is what we have got to contend with we can’t meet it any too soon,” said Leon, compressing his mouth firmly, as he always did whenever his courage was tested to the utmost. “I never thought that this thing was coming through all right. Such an exploit was never thought of before.”

“I know it; and that is what makes us think we shall come through with flying colors. There’s one thing about it: We won’t fight against our old flag.”

In spite of all the constant work there was for him to do at headquarters, Mr. Sprague found opportunity to go home and assist his wife in packing up for the island, which was the place the backwoodsmen had decided upon to make their last stand. It was a piece of ground in the midst of the swamp, entirely surrounded by water, and now that the inside of it had been cleared of all underbrush, which had been piled around the outside of it to answer for a breastwork, the island seemed to be a larger camp than the force of men at their disposal needed. Leon went up and saw it. He took his mother over in one of the boats, making their stock swim behind, and through a long, winding pathway, made of corduroy logs, and obstructed at every turn by numerous barricades, and when he came at last into the cleared space he was astonished.

“Why, father, we haven’t got men enough to fill up that space,” said he. “There’s room enough for ten thousand men.”

“Don’t worry yourself,” said his father, with a smile. “This war is not half over yet. By the time we have our first fight here we’ll have more men than we want.”

We must not forget to say that Tom Howe’s mother and Mr. Giddings and his family went with them. They all settled right down close together, and seemed as happy and contented there as they would have been under their own roofs. Mr. Giddings especially was the source of constant merriment to the boys. It didn’t make any difference to him that he was so far from his mountain home, but he pitched right in and had a good time. Of course, he was careful of his rifle. Whenever he could get his hands upon that he seemed to throw care to the winds. It was on this very day that Mr. Sprague thought it best to speak to Leon about that will. The boy didn’t know anything about it, and if anything happened to him during the fights that followed he wanted Leon to know where to get the money. Mr. Sprague, in the presence of his wife, had examined the will a few days before, and the result almost took his breath away. There were a few gold-pieces in the pocket-book, perhaps a hundred dollars or two, and a few bills payable; but they were all marked off, as if to show Mr. Sprague that Mr. Smith did not want to press the men for the money. Among these bills was the will, and when Mr. Sprague came to examine it his hand shook and he passed it over to his wife, saying:

“My goodness! Mary, who would have supposed that Mr. Smith was worth so much money? We dare not say anything about this, for if we do our lives will not be worth a moment’s purchase. These men around us will fight as hard to keep the money here as they will to keep the rebels away. Now, what had we better do?”