A Rebellion in Dixie

by Harry Castlemon

“We’ll go to it after this war is settled, and not before. Of course, we shall have to go away from here, for we can’t use it around where Leonard Smith is. And here’s another thing I want to tell you. Remember and keep close within reach of me, and don’t let Smith or anybody else get you off on one side. If you do, you will suffer for it.”

Leon smiled and wondered what sort of a story Smith could make up to draw him off in the woods, and it wasn’t so very long before he found out. Ever since the night that Mr. Smith died, Leonard had been half-crazy. He had no idea how much the will in the pocket-book contained, but he was certain that it was enough to keep him all his days without work. This was what this lazy vagabond was building his hopes upon. Anyway, he didn’t want the Spragues to have it, and what was more he was determined that they shouldn’t. If there was any way by which could get the will, or any means to learn the hiding-place of the money, why then it would be clear sailing with him. Leon undoubtedly had time to read the will and find out where the money was concealed, and if he could get him off by himself somewhere he would find out where that money was concealed, or he would leave Leon hanging to a tree in the woods. It took him two days to come to this decision, and all the while he roamed about over Mr. Smith’s place, poking into every place that he could think of where there was the least chance of hiding money. When the funeral procession came there he slunk into the woods, but when they went away again he came out and renewed his endeavors to find the fortune.

“There is money hidden somewhere about here, and I am as certain of it as that I am alive,” said Leonard Smith, when the men who had composed the funeral procession had gone away. “If it were not that Leon has the secret stowed away in his head I would up-end him the moment I saw him; but if I can get him in the woods and make preparations to hang him, I’ll find out where the money is. I can’t do anything by myself, and I must have somebody to help me. Now, who shall I get?”

Fortunately it was an easy thing for Leonard Smith to decide upon this question. He thought over all the worthless fellows who occurred to his mind just then, and finally hit upon one who was just about of as much use in the world as he was. Caleb Coleman was on the island beyond a doubt—he was always around where he was certain there was no danger—and if he could only get over there and see him he was sure that he could induce him to lend a hand in finding the money. But the trouble was he did not care to go around where Leon was.

“I don’t know whether that boy is certain that I am looking for the money or not, but he acts as if he did,” said Smith, as he took a look around to make sure that he had not missed any place where he thought there was a chance of hiding the money.

He had removed every pile of boards there was about the farm-house and had dug under them until he saw that the earth had not recently been disturbed, and then threw the piles of boards back again. He had even been in the cow-stable and plied his search there; but with all his looking he could not find any place which bore the appearance of having been dug over, and he was almost inclined to give up his search in despair. But he had one more trump card to play, and the more he thought of it the more confident he became that it would surely work.

“Here’s one thing that I have got to blame old Sprague for,” said Smith, as he picked up his rifle—nobody ever thought of going abroad without a rifle in war times—and turned his steps toward the island. “He’s gone and sent off that Newman family, and if they were here I would know right where to go to find three good men to assist me; but seeing that he couldn’t mind his own business, I suppose Coleman is the best one I can get. I’ll bet I will make his eyes open if I promise him one thousand dollars in gold.”

Smith had not yet been over to the island, but it was no trouble at all for him to get there, for the boats were constantly employed in carrying over the household furniture of the refugees. He did not know that there were so many men in the county before, and when he came to look closely at them he found that the most of them were strangers. A great many of them, too, were dressed in rebel uniform, and they worked like honest men who were anxious to take their families to a place of safety; but he did not see Coleman there.

“I’ll bet I’ll find him on the island, laid down alongside the fire,” said Smith, as his boat touched the shore and he jumped off. “You may be sure that he wouldn’t do any work while there is anybody to do it for him.”

Smith was surprised to find that no one on the island had missed him, for nobody spoke to him. The majority of the men were busy building their houses and getting their household goods under cover, and well they might be. After they got through here they were to march in a body down to the hotel and meet the assault of that force which was coming to crush out the last vestige of the Jones-County Confederacy. The men all acted with a feverish eagerness, as if they were impatient to get at it. Smith thought, too, that if that invading force succeeded in following the Union men to their island they were bound to be whipped. The passage through the cane was long and winding, and at every turn there were barricades erected, behind which three or four hundred men could have resisted a thousand. These breastworks of logs had been thrown up by the party who came out to build the boats and without any orders from headquarters, and Mr. Sprague showed what he thought of them by praising the men without stint.