Rodney, the Partisan

by Harry Castlemon

"I will, and so will all the rest."

Being thus encouraged Randolph stepped out of the line and walked off toward his father's carriage, to which his indignant mother had already beat a dignified retreat. When he had gone a little distance he looked behind him and saw, with no little satisfaction, that he was followed by eleven others who were displeased by the way the election was going.

They were the ones who had been urged into the company by Mr. Randolph, who had promised to see them well fitted out with horses and weapons, and of course they felt bound to follow the example of his son. There were those who believed that Mr. Randolph would not have taken so much interest in the company if he had not believed that every recruit he brought into it would cast a vote for Tom.

Here was a pretty state of affairs, thought Captain Hubbard, who looked troubled rather than vexed. He did not care so much for the desertion of young Randolph and his friends (although the unexpected withdrawal of twelve men from his command was no small matter), but he did care for the spirit that prompted their action. It was a rule or ruin policy he did not like to see manifested at that juncture. He was well enough acquainted with Randolph to know that he would not be satisfied with simply deserting the company, but would try in all ways to be revenged upon every member of it who had voted against him. While the captain was thinking about it, somebody tried to make matters worse by setting up a loud hiss, and in an instant the sound was carried along the whole length of the line. It wasn't stopped, either, until Rodney Gray stepped to the front.

"Mr. Commander," said he, raising his hand to his cap with a military flourish, "I don't want this position. The officers already chosen have been fairly elected, but I'll vote for Randolph for the next highest office in the gift of the company, if he can be induced to come back."

"Haven't you heard him say that he don't want it and won't take it?" replied the captain. "I think the Rangers know what they are doing. Proceed with the election."

"But, Captain, I don't want to be a clerk," protested Rodney. "I want to be a soldier. Aside from his writing, the orderly has little to do but loaf about camp all the while, keeping an eye on the company property, signing requisitions and drilling awkward squads, and that's a job I don't want. What's more, without any intention of being disrespectful, I'll not take it. There must be some here who want it, and who can do that sort of work as well, if not better than I can. If you think you must put me in for something, let me be a duty sergeant, so that I will have a chance to go on a scout now and then."

So saying the Barrington boy made another flourish with his hand and stepped back to his place in the ranks with military precision.

"Now, Rodney, take that back," said Lieutenant Percy, with most unbecoming familiarity. "You are the only military man in the company, and I don't see how we can get along without you."

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Rodney," chimed in Captain Hubbard. "You take the position, and I will promise that you shall go out on a scout as often as you please."