“That’s my business—and Rodney’s,” said Ned shortly.
“’Taint mine,” laughed Lambert, “but if you asked me to make a rough guess——”
“But I don’t ask you to make a rough guess,” interrupted Ned. “Or a smooth one either. Did Tom Randolph tell you how he got out of Camp Pinckney?”
“——a rough guess, I should say that Rodney’s got one of two things in hidin’ down there; either a deserter from our side, or a Yankee pris’ner that he is waitin’ for a chance to send to Baton Rouge. But ’taint none of my business, an’ I won’t tell,” said Lambert with good-natured persistence. And then he stopped, for when he looked up into Ned’s face he saw that it had suddenly grown very pale. “I aint said a word about it to nobody, an’ aint goin’ to; but you tell Rodney that when he wants friends, as most likely he will, they’ll be around. Me an’ Moseley an’ the rest didn’t want to go into the army, an’ we’re bound we won’t; but for all that we’re not the cowards that some folks take us to be.”
“You have something on your mind, and I am sure of it,” said Ned, as the man touched a match to his pipe and arose from his seat on the porch. “If you will tell me what it is, so that I can carry it to Rodney, I’ll give you a pair of shoes for yourself and Moseley.”
“Them’s jest the things that Tom Randolph offered to give me if I would guide them Home Guards to Mr. Gray’s cotton,” said Lambert with a grin ,“an’ now I’m goin’ to get’em without goin’ to all that trouble an’ risk. Beats me how Rodney can fight the Yanks the best he knows how for fifteen months, an’ then turn square around an’ buy shoes an’ salt an’ things of ’em. Looks to me as though the Yanks would ’a’ shot him the first thing they done.”
“They are not savages, to shoot a man after he quits fighting,” said Ned impatiently. “It takes Confederate Home Guards to do that. What do you say? Do you want the shoes or not?”
“Bring ’em out, an’ I will tell you all I had in my head when I rid into this yard,” was the answer, and Ned turned about and went into the house. When he returned he brought the shoes, which Lambert received with the remark that he knew some planters in the neighborhood who had willingly paid fifty dollars for footwear that wasn’t half as good.
“But if they had had greenbacks instead of rebel scrip they could have got their shoes for a good deal less,” replied Ned. “There isn’t a Confederate in the country loyal enough to refuse Yankee money when it is offered to him. Major Morgan wouldn’t do it. Now, what are your plans?”
“The only thoughts I had in my head when I rid into the yard, was that I would come here an’ get a bit of good tobacker, an’ tell you an’ Rodney that Tom Randolph was tryin’ to have your cotton burned,” replied Lambert, placing the shoes under his arm, and backing away as if he feared Ned might try to snatch them. “That’s all, honest Injun.”