A WARNING.

"A gentleman to see me?" repeated Rodney, his surprise and indignation giving place to a feeling of uneasiness. "Who is he? What's his name?"

"I dunno, sah," replied the servant. "I never seen him round here afore."

Wondering who the visitor could be and how he knew where to find him, seeing that he and his father had not been in that house more than half an hour, the Harrington boy arose and followed the servant into the back parlor. Whom he expected to meet when he got there it is hard to tell, but it is certain that he felt greatly relieved when he found that the visitor was a Mooreville boy-a "student" in the telegraph office. His uneasy feelings vanished at once only to return with redoubled force when Griffin-that was the visitor's name-said in a loud, earnest whisper:

"Shut the door tight and come up close so that you can hear every word I say. I am liable to get myself into the worst kind of a sc.r.a.pe by trying to befriend you."

"The door is all right, and besides there are no eavesdroppers in this house," answered Rodney. "What in the world is the matter, and why are you likely to get yourself into trouble by coming here?"

"Have you heard anything since you have been in town?" asked Griffin, in reply. "I don't suppose any one will bother you, seeing that you are alone, but if your whole company had tried to go, you might have been stopped. If you hadn't, it wouldn't have been Randolph's fault."

"There now," thought Rodney. "I said there was some one in Mooreville who wanted to get us into trouble, and Tom Randolph was the very fellow who came into my mind."

But he said nothing aloud. How did he know that young Randolph was the only enemy he had in Mooreville? He looked hard at Griffin and dropped into the nearest chair.

"Randolph is down on everybody who voted against him for second lieutenant," continued Griffin, "and he declared when he came home after the election that he would break up that company of Rangers if he could find any way to do it."

"He laid out a pretty big job for himself," said Rodney, when his visitor paused. "How did he think he would go to work to accomplish it?"

"Any way and every way. He didn't care so long as he broke it up. You can't imagine how tickled he was when he heard that you had mutinied and refused to be sworn in."

"Did Randolph start that ridiculous story about the mutiny?" inquired Rodney.

"I don't know whether he set it going or not, but he helped it along all he could and had a good deal to say about it," answered Griffin. "Yesterday afternoon I was in the office when he came in and wrote a dispatch to the Governor; and as I have got so that I can read by sound, I had no trouble in spelling it out when Drummond the operator sent it off. I always do that for practice. Between you and me that Drummond is a fellow who ought to be booted out of that position. He's just too mean to be of any use."

"What was in the dispatch?" asked Rodney.

"It contained the information that the Rangers had mutinied and were about to leave the State in a body."

"That was a lie and Randolph knew it," said Rodney, hotly. "But even if we had decided to leave the State in a body, is there any law to prevent it? Such a thing was proposed, but it was voted down by a big majority, and that is why I am obliged to go alone."

"And that brings me to what I want to tell you," said the operator. "I didn't pay very much attention to that dispatch, although Drummond said that if you tried to go up the river you ought to be chucked into the calaboose, the last one of you; but when Randolph came in again that evening and sent off another dispatch that was all about you, I began to open my ears and think it was time I was giving you a hint."

"What could he have to say about me? It wasn't I who defeated him for second lieutenant."

"No, but you voted against him, and the company gave you the position you wanted without making any fuss about it, and presented you with a splendid sword, and all those things made Randolph pretty middling mad, I can tell you."

"Did he tell the Governor in his second dispatch that I was getting ready to leave the State, and that he had better be on the lookout to stop me?"

"Eh? No. He didn't send the second dispatch to the Governor. He sent it to his father's cotton-factor in St. Louis, who is a Yank so blue that the blue will rub off."

"The-mischief-he-did!" exclaimed Rodney, who began to feel blue himself even if he didn't look so. "And what did he have to say to that Yankee about me?"

"He told him to watch the steamboats for a Confederate bearer of dispatches-a young fellow, dark complexioned, slight mustache, dressed in citizen's clothes and a roan colt for company."

"It is his intention to have me arrested the minute I get into St. Louis, is it?" cried Rodney, getting upon his feet and moving about the room with long, angry strides.

"It looked that way to me, and that's why I am here," replied Griffin.

"I appreciate your friendship, and a.s.sure you that I shall always bear it in mind," said Rodney, stopping long enough to give the operator's hand a cordial gripe and shake.

"That's all right," said the latter. "I haven't forgotten the winter when I was down with the chills and couldn't work, and that mortgage of ours liked to have worried my mother into a sick bed-"

"That's all right too," Rodney interposed. "I was at school and had nothing whatever to do with it."

"No, but your father had something to do with it, and it's all in the family. I know it is Randolph's intention to get you into trouble with the Yankees if he can, for I heard him tell Drummond so. And he couldn't have taken a better way or a better time to do it," continued Griffin. "If all reports are true, things are in a bad way in St. Louis. You know there are a good many Dutchmen there, and they are mostly strong for the Union. During one of the riots they fired into their own ranks instead of into the mob, and that made them so wild with rage that they are ready to hang every Confederate they can get their hands on, without judge or jury."

"A bearer of dispatches," repeated Rodney, once more seating himself in his chair. "And did Drummond send off that telegram when he knew there wasn't a word of truth in it?"

"Course. Don't I tell you that he's too mean for any use? He and Randolph are and always have been cronies, and I heard them talking and laughing over the dispatches as though they thought they were going to get a big joke on you."

"What other thing has Drummond done that's mean?" inquired Rodney.

"Let's talk about something else," replied Griffin, evasively.

"Just as you please," answered the Barrington boy. "But I shouldn't think you would take the trouble to come to Baton Rouge and run the risk of losing your position in the telegraph office, unless you are willing to trust me entirely. I asked for information and not out of curiosity. If Drummond attempts any foolishness with you, my father may be able to checkmate him."

"Well, then," said the operator, with some hesitation. "You musn't betray me. Drummond has sent the names of all the Union men in and around Mooreville to the Governor."

"Why, I didn't suppose there were any Union men there," exclaimed Rodney, who was greatly surprised.

"Of course you didn't. You wouldn't expect one of them to make himself known to as hot a Confederate as you are known to be, would you? There are plenty of people at home who don't suspect such a thing, but I don't mind telling you of it, for you are not mean enough to persecute a man who differs from you in opinion."

Rodney thrust both hands deep into his pockets, slid farther down in his chair, and fastened his eyes on the carpet without saying a word. What would his visitor think of him if he knew that he had been mean enough to do just that very thing that in order to punish his cousin for his Union sentiments and drive him away from the academy, he had written a letter to Budd Goble which came within an ace of bringing Marcy Gray a terrible beating? The matter came vividly to Rodney's recollection now, and he would have given everything he ever hoped to possess if he could have blotted out that one act.

"Yes, there are Union men in Mooreville," continued Griffin, getting upon his feet and b.u.t.toning up his coat, "and Randolph and his friend Drummond are laying their plans to bring sorrow of some sort to them.

There was still another telegram which was sent to this place."

"Was there anything in it about me?" inquired Rodney.

"It was all about you. In it Drummond asked the operator here to keep an eye on you if he could conveniently, and send word to Mooreville when you went up the river and what boat you went on. Then he will send off another dispatch to that St. Louis Yankee, who will know just when to expect you."

"He means to be revenged on me for voting as I did, doesn't he?" mused Rodney. "I shall not have any dispatches about me, but I don't want to be arrested. It would delay me just that much, and might make it impossible for me to get out of the city."

"Really I must be going," exclaimed Griffin, "or my cousin, who thinks I came here on purpose to see him, will have his suspicions aroused. Can you show me the way out? Remember I musn't be seen by anybody."

The Barrington boy, who was as well acquainted in that house as he was in his father's, led the way to the front door, and after again thanking his visitor for the trouble he had taken and the friendship he had shown in warning him of his danger, he ran down the steps to the sidewalk and looked in both directions. There was no one in sight; and having made sure of it Rodney motioned to Griffin, who quickly disappeared in the darkness. Then Rodney went slowly back into the house and entered the room in which he had left his father. He told him and their host everything, even at the risk of hearing Mr. Gray declare that he should not stir one step toward St. Louis. That was just what the boy thought his father would say, and he was ready for it, having hit upon a plan which he was sure would throw his enemies off the scent.

Rodney's father was as angry at Randolph and Drummond as he was grateful to young Griffin for the service he had rendered his son, but all he had to say about it was that he would remember them all. And we may antic.i.p.ate events a little by saying that he kept his word so far as Griffin was concerned. When the Confederate Congress pa.s.sed that famous conscription law "robbing the cradle and the grave," that is to say, making every able-bodied man in the South between the ages of seventeen and fifty subject to military duty, it did not neglect to provide for the exemption of those who were able to pay for it, thus proving the truth of the a.s.sertion that the war of the rebellion was a rich man's war and a poor man's fight. The fact that young Griffin was the sole support of a widowed mother made not the slightest difference to the Confederate enrolling officers, who would have forced him into the army if Rodney's father had not come to his relief. According to the terms of the law there was one exempt on every plantation employing more than fifteen slaves. Mr. Gray owned four such plantations and he gave young Griffin charge of one of them, at the same time handing over the hundred pounds of bacon and beef that Griffin would have been obliged to pay as the price of his exemption. Of course this made Randolph angry, and the burden of his complaint was:

"Griffin is Union and I know it; and old Gray has no business to shield him from the conscription in that fashion. My friend Drummond had to run when the Yankees came here, and now he is starving in the Confederate army; and is this Griffin any better than Drummond? My exemption is all right. My father is free by reason of his age, and I must look out for the plantation; but Griffin ought to be made to light. I'd give something handsome to know what made those Grays take such a shine to him all of a sudden."

The knowledge that he was watched, and that the telegraph was to be brought into operation against him, did not keep Rodney Gray awake five minutes after his head touched the pillow. He slept soundly, ate a hearty breakfast, and in company with his father took his way to the telegraph office and wrote a dispatch, addressing it to d.i.c.k Graham's father at St. Louis. Mr. Graham did not live in the city. His home was near Springfield; but Rodney knew from something d.i.c.k said in his letter that his father was sojourning in St. Louis watching the progress of events. His first telegram had reached Mr. Graham all right, and it was likely this one would also. He made a great show of writing it, and even read it to his father in a tone loud enough for the operator to hear it.

"'Will start for St. Louis by first steamer, and shall be glad to have you meet me at the wharf-boat,'" was what he wrote in the dispatch. "Of course Mr. Graham can easily find out what boats are due in the city, and will know about what time to expect me. How much?"

The operator, who seemed to take a deeper interest in this dispatch and the sender than operators usually take in such things, named the price and gazed curiously at Rodney as the latter brought out his purse and looked for the money.

"That's the fellow Drummond wants us to watch," said he to his a.s.sistant, when Rodney and his father were out of hearing. "I wonder what's up? Do you suppose he has been stealing anything? He's got a handful of gold-big pieces, too."