“Ah, yes! I know you now. I believe I will let you two off on one condition. Wait until I get through!” cried Rodney, turning fiercely upon Lambert, who had made several attempts to interrupt him. “You did lots of talking a little while back, and now it’s my turn. That condition is, Moseley, that you take your gang out of the woods and keep it out from this time on, unless I tell you to take it back.”
“I’ll do it, sah,” said Moseley earnestly. “Sure’s you live——”
“He can’t, Mister Rodney,” exclaimed Lambert. “There aint nobody but me can do that, kase I’m the captain of ’em.”
“You’re not the captain of them any longer. They will have to elect someone to take your place, for you are going to start for Baton Rouge in less than fifteen minutes.”
When Lambert heard this he almost fell off the step on which he was sitting. Without giving him time to recover himself sufficiently to utter a protest, Rodney again addressed ex-Lieutenant Moseley.
“If you will do that, you can go to my father after our cotton has been shipped, and he will give each of you some money,” said Rodney. “I don’t know how much, but it will be a larger sum than you ever owned before at one time. It will be good money, too.”
“Say, Mister Rodney,” faltered Lambert, “what’s the reason I can’t have a share?”
“But if you don’t do it,” continued Rodney, “if you interfere in any way with the teamsters who will go into the swamp to-morrow to haul that cotton out, the last one of you will be hunted down and shot, or sent to a Northern prison to keep company with Lambert. How many did you leave behind when you came here?”
“Four, sah,” replied Moseley.
“Only seven of you altogether!” exclaimed Rodney. “Well, I think I can promise you a hundred dollars apiece in greenbacks, and that will be equal to six or eight hundred dollars in Confederate scrip.”