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?”
CHAPTER XVIII.
COLEMAN PROVES HIS HONESTY.
Mrs. Sprague fastened her eyes on the document, and as she read the color all left her face. She looked around. There was plenty of opportunity for her to be overheard now, for they were living in a brush lean-to, and there were people constantly passing back and forth almost within reach of them. There were plenty of folks there that could be trusted with their secret, but there were lots more from whom it must be kept at all hazards.
“And do you think that some of these people will fight for this money?” she said in an earnest whisper.
“There are lots of them that will do it,” returned her husband. “You see we will be as poor as they make them when this thing is ended, and where they are going to get money to start on, I don’t know. I tell you, we mustn’t let anybody know it. Put that away and I will go out and call Leon.”
The heir of all this wealth was found assisting Mr. Giddings, who was just putting the finishing touches on his brush shanty preparatory to getting his family under it. He looked up when he saw his father approaching, and he had never seen him look so white before; but he was warned by the signal his father made him, and so he didn’t say a word. His mother handed him the will when he entered their brush lean-to, and in less time than it takes to tell it Leon was master of its contents.