For some reason or other Rodney Gray was in excellent spirits that evening. He did not go to bed until long after midnight, and when he did, he could not sleep for more than ten minutes at a time. But when morning came he sobered down, and his face took on the determined expression that Marcy had so often seen there during those exciting days at the Barrington Academy, when Dick Graham stole the flag and the Minute-men burned Unionists out of house and home. Just as they arose from the breakfast table Ned Griffin threw down the bars and rode into the yard, and that made four resolute fellows, counting in Charley Bowen, who were ready to see Lambert and talk to him about Mr. Gray’s cotton. They all wore sack coats, and in each of the outside pockets was a loaded revolver.
“I am afraid Lambert will weaken when he sees this crowd,” said Ned. “Perhaps he’ll not come into the yard at all. Wouldn’t it be a good scheme for a couple of us to go into the house out of sight?”
“I don’t think it would,” answered Rodney. “Lambert knows how many there are of us, and if he doesn’t find us all on the porch when he comes his suspicions will be aroused. He’ll not come alone, you may be certain of that.”
And sure enough he didn’t. When he rode up to the bars half an hour later he had two companions with him, and they all carried guns on their shoulders. There was something aggressive in the way they jerked out the bars and dropped them on the ground, and Rodney noticed that Lambert did not take the trouble to put them up behind him as he usually did. This was the way he took of showing Rodney that he held some power in his hands, and that he intended to use it for his own personal ends.
“What did I tell you?” said the young master of the plantation, who was angry in an instant. “He’s brought Moseley and another long-haired chap, whose name I do not now recall, and thinks he’s going to ride over me rough-shod. Of course he will demand a private interview, and I will grant it. All you’ve got to do is to come when you hear me shoot. I’ll show him that I am in no humor to put up with any more of his nonsense.”
“Don’t run any risks,” cautioned Marcy. “Your mother says that Lambert is a dangerous man.”
“I’ll prove to you, before this thing is over, that he is the biggest coward in the Confederacy,” replied Rodney.
The near approach of Lambert and his friends cut short the conversation. They did not get off their mules, but rode straight up to the porch; and then Rodney knew why they left the bars down behind them. Their bearing was insolent, and the first words Lambert uttered were still more so.
“Look a-here, Rodney Gray,” said he, “I’d like to know what them fellers mean by goin’ round the settlement hirin’ teams to haul that cotton outen the swamp without sayin’ a word to me about it.”
“I don’t know why you should be consulted,” was the quiet reply. “Since when has that cotton belonged to you?”