Rodney, the Overseer

by Harry Castlemon

The expression of astonishment that came upon Mr. Banks' face set the table in a roar.

"You didn't expect me to speak so freely in the presence of these blue-coated boys, I suppose," continued Rodney. "You needn't be afraid, for they are not on duty now. Besides, they are soldiers, and I'd rather trust them than some civilians I know of."

"How will you bring the flour out?" asked Mr. Banks.

"I'll bring it out," answered Rodney confidently. "In the first place I'll ask for a pass for inland travel and a permit to trade, and I am bound to get both. I know where I can borrow a team in the city, and I intend to bring it out loaded. I know that salt and all munitions of war are contraband, and that there is an inspection of all persons and property going in or out of the lines; but I—well, I shall be back this way to-morrow or next day, and if you want a bag of salt for your table you can have it."

"Well, I snum!" said the planter admiringly. "Your war experience has done a heap for you, Rodney."

"He had the reputation of being the best forager in the regiment," said Dick. "I've known him to stick a pig and clean him and bring him into camp under Daddy Price's nose, when the orders were strict that such things shouldn't be done. If there was anything to eat in the country our mess always lived well."

Dinner over, Rodney led his party out of the house and into the woods again; but it was done merely to mislead any talkative rebel or treacherous darkey who might be on the watch. It wouldn't do to let all the neighbors know that Mr. Banks had sheltered some escaped prisoners in his house during the night; but when darkness came they left the woods and found in one of the negro cabins beds that had been placed there on purpose for them, and on which they slept the sleep of the weary. Daylight the next morning found them well on their way toward the city, with a breakfast under their belts and a big lunch in their pockets.

There was more travel on the road than Rodney expected to see, and the number of teams that were constantly going and coming gave him some idea of the amount of traffic carried on between the "invaders" and the country people. When he and his companions were halted by the first pickets a few miles outside the city, they told as much of their story as they thought necessary, and demanded to be taken before Colonel Baker, commanding the —th Michigan cavalry. In order to avoid delay and the trouble of answering the thousand and one questions propounded by the inexperienced non-commissioned officer who responded to the picket's call, the corporal, who did the talking, said that they were all escaped prisoners; but when they reached the place where the —th Michigan were encamped, and walked down the street toward the colonel's quarters, that story would no longer pass muster, for the corporal was recognized by his comrades, who crowded about him from all sides. The news of that fight near Camp Pinckney had been brought in by a farmer, who affirmed that all the Yankees had been killed by the Home Guards as fast as they surrendered, and as a consequence the Michigan boys had given up all hope of seeing their friends again. Their commanding officer greeted them in the same cordial way, laughed over the paroles which the corporal gave him, took down the names of the Union people as they were read off, looked at Rodney's discharge and Dick's, and told the corporal to show them the way to the provost marshal's office.

"But, colonel, these boys, who have stood by us as though they belonged to us, want a pass and a permit to trade," said the corporal. "And if you will allow me to use your name, perhaps the provost will be more willing to grant the favor."

The permission was readily given, and the colonel's name must have had some weight with the marshal, for he did not detain Rodney and Dick at his office on business for more than ten minutes; but he kept them there talking in a friendly way for more than an hour. When he handed them the papers they wanted he took pains to say that there were some things that could not be taken through the lines under any circumstances whatever, and then he asked where they intended to make their headquarters when they were in the city, and whether or not they had any cotton to sell. As Rodney did not know what his object might be in asking this question, he answered it evasively.