This short visit of the Confederate army was like a plague of locusts; everything in the shape of eatables in and around Mooreville that they could place their hands on disappeared and was never heard of afterward. Some articles of value disappeared likewise, as was to have been expected; but not very many, for the settlers had learned that it was best to be careful of such things during war times. No one had seen a Home Guard during those two troublous days, nobody could tell where Captain Randolph had kept himself or how he had behaved, and neither was there any news to be had of Captain Roach.

Our two friends drew a long breath of relief when "the fuss" was over, congratulated themselves on having escaped both duty and suspicion, and waited with what patience they could for the excitement to pass away so that it would be safe for them to go into the city. But that time seemed long in coming. Inquisitive Federal scouts, who asked troublesome questions and insisted on knowing all about everything, came to the house every day, and on three occasions wounded Confederate stragglers appealed to their pity and begged assistance. Nor were these appeals made in vain, though the boys took great risks in concealing their Confederate friends during the day and helping them on their road at night. They deceived their neighbors, hoodwinked the darkeys they were afraid to trust, and told gauzy stories to Federal scouts until Dick affirmed that deceiving and lying would become a confirmed habit with them. But fortunately the necessity for these things passed away before that happened. The country was cleared of stragglers after a while, the settlement quieted down, and Rodney and Dick were ready for the next thing on the programme.

"I don't know when I have had so hard a task set before me," said Rodney, "and I would be glad to put it off forever if I could. But since the parting must come, it might as well be one time as another. Shall we start for the city to-morrow morning?"

Dick answered with a decided affirmative, and the start was made. Believing that he ought to be ready to act as soon as the opportunity was presented, he took leave of Rodney's father and mother as though he never expected to see them again, and Rodney drew on the family purse for a good many gold pieces. If Dick succeeded in getting across the river he would still have a long journey before him—longer than the one Rodney made from Cedar Bluff landing to Price's army—and he would need a horse to ride, a coat and blanket to cover him when he camped at night, and money to purchase his supplies; and his friend's forethought provided for all these necessary things.

On their way to Baton Rouge they passed over the ground on which the right wing of the Confederate force formed in line of battle previous to the assault. It was just beyond Mr. Turnbull's house; and that gentleman's wife, after giving a glowing description of the gallant way in which the Confederates advanced to the attack, told the boys in a confidential whisper that she had aided two Yankees who were captured and managed to escape during the fight; that there was a wounded rebel in one of the upper rooms of her house at that moment; that he was going to remain there until he was able to travel; and that one of the escaped prisoners whom Rodney befriended had smuggled medicine through the lines for him at her request, thus proving that there was such a thing as gratitude in the world. Before the boys left the house, they visited the wounded rebel in his room, and he told them that the fight was the most savagely contested of any he had ever been in, and, for the number of men engaged, the bloodiest. Some of the Indiana and Michigan boys fought with rails which they snatched from the fences, and the Yank who smuggled the medicine out for him said he had counted thirteen dead rebs in one heap.

"It was bad for our side," moaned the wounded soldier, "and even if the Arkansas had been there to help us I don't suppose we would have made any better showing. The Yanks had things fixed for us, and now I've got to hobble through the world on one leg."

Although some stray missiles from the Confederate side found their way into the streets of the city, the boys did not find there as many signs of the conflict as they expected to see. Mr. Martin's buildings escaped unscathed, but Mr. Martin himself had been placed in arrest to prevent him from holding any communication with the enemy.

"As if I ever dreamed of doing such a foolish thing!" said he contemptuously. "Why, I want to live here; and consequently I do nothing that I consider to be risky. But I have seen the mail carrier, and he is going to pick up some bags this very night."

"Pick them up!" repeated Rodney. "Where are they?"

"Out in the country somewhere, and he is out there too, or will be at eight o'clock; and if your friend wants to go, now's his chance."

"Mr. Martin, I hope your kind efforts in my behalf will not bring you into trouble with the Yanks," said Dick. "I feel very grateful to you."

But he didn't look so, and neither did Rodney. The time when they must part was close at hand.

"I don't want to hurry you away," continued Mr. Martin, "but as it will take some little time to ride to the place to which I shall direct you, you had better have your horses out of the stable at five o'clock, so as to pass the pickets before dark. I will give you a letter that will make you all right with Henderson."

The rest of the day, to quote from Dick Graham, flew away as if the hours had been greased. Half-past four came before they knew it, and with it the letter their host had promised them, accompanied by some instructions which they must closely follow in order to find and obtain an interview with Henderson. He was a cross, crabbed old fellow, Mr. Martin said, but the boys mustn't mind that. They would be cross and suspicious too, if they had been bothered and balked in their business as Henderson had been followed and harassed in his. They must try and get on the right side of him, for he could take Dick to the other side if anybody could. Mr. Martin excused himself for not accompanying them to the stable where they left their horses by saying that to be seen walking the streets with a suspected man would bring suspicion upon them, and that was one thing they wanted to avoid.

The boys left the city and the pickets behind in good season, and took pains to make some noise as they galloped past the houses of three "converted rebels" who, so Mr. Martin said, were always watching and scheming for a chance to report somebody. They rode as if they were going home; but when darkness came they doubled upon their trail, passed these same houses again in silence, and turned into a lane that took them miles up the river to the hiding-place of Henderson, the mail carrier. They found it to be a pretentious plantation house situated in plain view of the river, and not at all such a spot as they would have chosen had they been engaged in Henderson's business. It would have been impossible to surprise the mail carrier in his hiding-place, however, as they found when they approached nearer to it, for they had barely time to shout out the customary "Hallo, the house! Don't let your dogs bite!" before their horses were surrounded by a pack of belligerent canines, whose angry yelping completely drowned the voice of the master of the house.

"Get out!" he shouted, as soon as he could make himself heard above the tumult. "Who is it, and what's wanted?"

"Friends from the city," replied Rodney, who had been told just what to say. "I have a communication for Mr. Henderson from our mutual friend Mr. Martin. Will you look at it?"

The planter came down to the gate, took the letter from Rodney's hand, looking sharply at him and Dick as he did so, and carried it into the house with him. He did not ask them to "alight and hitch," and that proved that there was something or somebody in the house he did not want the boys to see. It was all of ten minutes before he came out again, and he brought with him a companion who straightway made himself known by saying, in a complaining voice:

"I told Martin I couldn't do the like, and here he's gone and sent you, just as if I had agreed to do it. Which one of you is the fool?"

"I am the one who wants to go over the river, if you will be kind enough to let me have a seat in your boat," replied Dick.

"Who said anything about a boat?" demanded Mr. Henderson, for the boys were sure it was he. "Do you want to be captured by the gunboats, and sent up for a spy or something? I don't expect to get back alive, or get across, either. But then! Martin's a friend of mine and keeps me posted in some things I—— Get off, both of you. Hitch your horses somewhere and wait till I come."

"Dick, you're as good as off at last," whispered Rodney, as the two men turned about and went back to the house. "Think of me riding all the way to Mr. Turnbull's alone in the dark while you are running the risk of being overhauled by the naval picket boats. Have you got your money and discharge all right? Write to me if you see the ghost of a chance for a letter to get through, for I shall be anxious to hear from my old Barrington chum."

The boys had plenty to say to each other and an abundance of time to say it in, for a whole hour passed before the mail carrier again came out. This time he had two men with him—the planter and another passenger, the latter being muffled up to the eyes so that no one could have seen his face if it had been broad daylight. He said not a word, but the mail carrier did, and Rodney was gratified to notice that he was as careful to conceal Dick's identity as he was that of his other passenger.

"Come on, you Moses," said he, "and remember that you are deaf, dumb, and blind. You, Jonas, get on your horse and clear yourself."

It would have done no good to prolong the leave-taking, and Rodney was glad to have it broken off so abruptly. He gave his friend's hand a final squeeze and shake, and when he came into the road again a moment later, riding one horse and leading the other, there was no one in sight.

The way home was a long and lonely one to Rodney Gray, who felt as if the last tie that bound him to his school days had been sundered forever. He got through without any trouble, although he met some inquisitive people who wanted to know how he happened to have a riderless horse with him, passed one night at his father's house, and in due time was back in his old quarters on the upper plantation, where he had spent so many pleasant hours with the absent Dick. But before he had leisure to look about and tell himself how very lonesome he was, he had visitors, one of whom threw him into a terrible state of mind before he left. They were a squad of the —th Michigan boys, and commanded by the corporal who had once taken him prisoner, and whose name he had never heard. They good-naturedly demanded all the weapons he had, and threatened to go through his house if he didn't trot them right out; but when they went to the well for water the corporal drew off on one side, intimating by a look that he had something to say to Rodney in private.

"Where's your partner?" were the first words he said when they were alone.

"Gone over the river," answered Rodney.

"How long since?"

"He went night before last."

"Well, I'll bet you a hard-tack he didn't make it. Some of your good friends were the means of stopping him. You see," he went on, without giving the astonished Rodney time to speak, "Ben and another boy, who were in my party when you and Griffin did so much for us, scouted down Randolph's way a few days after the fight, and that Home Guard——You made a big blunder when you stuck to us till we let him go. Now he's gone back on you."

"What has he done?" inquired Rodney, who told himself that that was just what he expected from Tom Randolph.

"Why, Ben distinctly heard him tell one of our officers that a bearer of despatches would go from Mooreville in a few days, intending to cross the river at Baton Rouge, where he had friends to help him," said the corporal. "Of course the matter was reported at headquarters, and the houses of all the Secession sympathizers in the city were watched closer than ever."

"Was Mr. Martin's house watched, do you know?"

"Why, certainly. He is always watched, and we had him under arrest during the fight."

"And I was simple enough to tell the provost marshal that that house would be my stopping-place as often as I came to the city," groaned Rodney.

"You needn't blame yourself for that, for I don't suppose it made a particle of difference," said the corporal soothingly. "The provost marshal would have found it out sooner or later, because it is a part of his business to find out where every stranger lives, and what he does while inside the lines. If you went there with your friend Graham——"

"I did," whispered Rodney. "And we went from there up to—up to——"

"Henderson's? Well, he's watched, too; and if one is caught the other will be."

"If Tom Randolph has got Dick Graham into trouble I will see that he is well punished for it," said Rodney angrily.

"If he hasn't, it isn't because he didn't try. If you say the word, I will go straight to his house and arrest him for a Home Guard."

"No, no; don't do that. I am not coward enough to take revenge on him in that way. But since he has made his boast that he is willing to die for the South, I will see that he has all the chance he wants."

"Well, my boys seem to have had their fill of water, so we'll jog along," said the corporal. "If the Home Guards bother you let us know, and we'll clean them out to the last man. Good-by."

Astonished at the extent of the corporal's information, and wondering how it was possible for any Southern sympathizer to live in Baton Rouge when he knew that he was so closely watched, Rodney went into the house as soon as the soldiers rode away, and sat down to write a letter. As a general thing his thoughts came rapidly and it was no trouble for him to put them on paper; but this particular letter seemed to bother him, for he made three copies of it before he got it to suit him. Then he ordered his horse brought to the door, changed his working clothes for a business suit, and galloped off in the direction of Mooreville. He stopped at his home "just long enough to let his mother see that he was all right" and then rode on again, but not toward Mooreville or the river. There was no one at either place whom he wanted to see that day, but he did want to have a few earnest words with General Ruggles, if he could find him. During the fight the general commanded the Confederate column that came from Camp Pinckney, and there was where Rodney hoped to find him now. Before he had ridden a dozen miles into the country he ran into a small party of rebels, who looked at his discharge, and encouraged him by saying that the officer he desired to see commanded the camp, and was recruiting men as rapidly as he could for some special service that was to be performed up about Holly Springs.

"I know by experience that special service usually means dangerous service," thought Rodney, as he rode on his way. "If Tom Randolph really wants to do something for the South, he will jump at the chance of going to Holly Springs."

Camp Pinckney looked just as it did when he and Dick Graham ran the guard there on their way home, only there were more men who were being made into soldiers, and the number was being increased every day by the disconsolate and homesick conscripts who were sent there from all the districts in that part of the State. Rodney was shown at once into the presence of the commander, and knew, before he had exchanged a dozen words with him, that he would have no use for the letter he had taken so much pains to write.

"I can attend to the business myself without any aid from the Governor," said General Ruggles, who looked more like a hard-working farmer than he did like a brave and skilful soldier. "The slip-shod manner in which recruiting has been done in this district is enough to make one forget the third commandment. There hasn't been a single man sent to this camp from your neighborhood."

"I am aware of it, sir. But as these men belong to the State and not to the Confederacy, I thought perhaps——"

"There's no need of it, sir," interrupted the general. "I have all the authority I want, and can do the business without saying a word to the Governor. Sent in his resignation, has he? Captain—Thomas—Randolph," he continued, writing the name on a slip of paper. "And it has not yet been accepted? And how many men do you think he has in his company? All right. You go home and say nothing to anybody, and I will put him where he will meet something besides unarmed men and women and children."

His business having been transacted to his entire satisfaction, Rodney was in no particular haste to go home. He made friends with one of the veterans who composed the camp guard, ate supper with him, and slept under half his blanket that night; but the morning's sun saw him well on his return journey. He made a wide circuit to avoid passing through Mooreville, and did not go near his father's house for fear it might be remembered against him at some future time. He went home as rapidly as he could go, unsaddled his horse and turned him into the stable-yard, and went into the house; and there, seated in Rodney's favorite rocking chair, with his feet upon the back of another and a book in his hand, was—Dick Graham.

"You've got cheek! Why didn't you come out when you heard me at the bars?" exclaimed Rodney, as soon as he found his tongue.

"Because I thought you would prefer to come in and find me," replied Dick; and then he dropped his book and jumped to his feet, and the two embraced each other schoolboy fashion.

"O Dick, you don't know how I have worried about you," said Rodney. "And Tom Randolph was at the bottom of it all. You would have been watched if he hadn't said a word; but what I mean is that he made matters worse. I have paid him for it, however. Now tell me all about it."

"We didn't succeed, and that's all there is to tell," answered Dick. "We made six attempts on two different nights, and once got so near to the other shore that I was sure we would make it; but the picket boats from the fleet showed up, and we had to dig out. They were on hand every time, and you ought to have heard Henderson cuss. He declared that one or the other of his passengers was a Jonah, and he had a notion to chuck us both overboard so as to be sure he got the right one."

"It was you, Dick. Who was the other passenger?"

"I don't know any more about him now than I did when I first saw him. When we gave up trying on the first night and went back to the house, he shut himself in his room, and I never saw him till we went out on the second night to try it over again. No doubt he was a high-up officer with important papers in his pockets."

"Of course the picket boats opened fire on you."

"Of course they didn't, for we saw or heard them in time to dodge out of their way. One of them passed so close to us that we could see, dark as it was, that she pulled six oars on a side. If she'd seen us or heard us breathe, she would have had us sure."

"Go on. What did you do on the night I left you?"

"Nothing. We walked about a mile to where a little bay made into the bank from the river, and there we found a skiff with piles of something in the bow and stern that I took to be the precious mail-bags which Mr. Martin said Henderson was going to pick up. When we got in there was barely room for Henderson to work the oars, and I didn't wonder that he growled so about taking me over."

"How did you come home?"

"Well, when we came back after making the sixth attempt, and Henderson got mad and told me to clear out and never let him put eyes on me again (I noticed that he didn't say a word to the other fellow, and that's what makes me think that he was an officer whom Henderson had to take whether he wanted to or not), I took him at his word and put for Mr. Turnbull's. That gentleman was kind enough to hitch up a team and take me to your father's, and your father brought me here, to find you gone. You've been gone three nights, and I want to know what you mean by such work."

"I've been to Camp Pinckney to make arrangements for Tom Randolph and his Home Guards to go into the army," replied Rodney, adding that he had written to the Governor, laying the blame for the bombardment of Baton Rouge upon the shoulders of the Home Guards, and giving such other incidents in their history as he thought would attract the attention of the authorities and induce them to do something; but General Ruggles had promised to attend to the matter himself.

"Of course Captain Randolph will be very much obliged to you when he hears of it," observed Dick.

"He has nobody to thank but himself, and since I have heard what those escaped prisoners had to say about Home Guards, I wish every one of them could be forced into the army. Now you've got to stay with me until the war is ended one way or the other, haven't you?"

"Not much. I'm going up to Port Hudson to try it again, if you will show me the way; and you ought to have heard Henderson rip and snort because I didn't go there in the first place without troubling him. But you see I didn't know that I could, and you didn't either. If I can take a boat from Port Hudson up Red River to Alexandria, or better yet, up Black River to Monroe, I shall save miles of horseback travel."

"And run the risk of being captured by gunboats every step of the way," added Rodney. "But I suppose I'll have to go."

And he did the very next morning. This time there was no trouble about it, for when the steamer New Era, which was regularly employed in bringing army supplies from the Red River country, moved out from her landing at Port Hudson bound for Monroe, she carried Dick Graham with her. The night was as dark as a pocket, but the lonely Rodney kept watch on the bank as long as a single spark could be seen coming out of her smokestacks, and even lingered about the place for two or three days, almost hoping that some Union gunboat would send a shot across her bows and drive her back; but when the soldiers assured him that she must have gone through safely or else she would have returned within a few hours of her departure, he realized that the long delayed separation had come at last, and turned his face sorrowfully homeward.

He went directly to his father's house to report the success of his undertaking, and learned that Mooreville had been thrown into a state of great excitement during his absence. No one had seen or heard of Captain Roach since Breckenridge made his fruitless attempt to take the city, but his office was occupied by a grizzly veteran, who hardly gave himself time to sit down in Captain Roach's chair before declaring that he hadn't come there to stand nonsense from anybody, and that everyone liable to military duty, Home Guards and all, must make tracks for Camp Pinckney or be dragged there by the neck. It didn't make the least difference to him how they went, but they must go; they might be sure of that. He brought fifty veterans with him to back him up, and in less than twenty-four hours after taking possession of the office, sent off forty-five conscripts, two-thirds of whom were Home Guards.

"Mrs. Randolph tried the same game with Major Morgan, that's the new man's name, that she tried with so much success with Captain Roach," said Mr. Gray with a laugh. "But it didn't work. The major sent back word that he had no time to go about visiting and eating dinners, and Tom was given his choice between reporting at the camp voluntarily or being sent there under guard. It's the best thing that was ever done for this community."

Rodney wanted to shout, but instead of doing that he got on his horse and rode down to call on Major Morgan. He didn't find the office filled with loafers, as it had been in Captain Roach's time, but there were a few bronzed fellows standing about who remembered seeing Rodney at the camp, and bowed to him as he came in. The major remembered him too, and said, as he gave the boy's hand one short, quick jerk, that was doubtless intended for a shake:

"There's material enough here to form the finest kind of a battalion. Why don't you apply for a commission and go out with it? You've had rest enough by this time."

"Because I don't wish to command conscripts," replied Rodney, ignoring the fact that half the soldiers in the Confederate armies were conscripts and nothing else, being held to service against their will. "Besides, I am an overseer now, and I like it better than fighting."

But Rodney could not keep out of trouble as easily as he kept out of the army, nor did Major Morgan succeed in sending all Tom Randolph's Home Guards to Camp Pinckney. Some of them, Lieutenants Lambert and Moseley among the rest, took to the woods, and became freebooters to all intents and purposes. Whether these worthies knew or suspected that he had a hand in the breaking up of their organization Rodney never learned; but he was quickly made aware that they did not intend he should see a moment's peace if they could help it. They either found the cotton of which we have spoken, or else somebody put them on the track of it; and the efforts they made to destroy it, as well as the counter efforts made by Rodney Gray and his two Union cousins to protect it, shall be described in the concluding volume of this series, which will be entitled "Sailor Jack, the Trader."

THE END.