“I don’t know that I ought to tell you, but didn’t one of your neighbors lose some cotton a while ago? His name is Randolph, and he wants us to look out for a worthless fellow named Lambert, who, he thinks, burned the cotton for him. He told me to go quietly up to Randall’s and ask for Mose, and I would find in him a good guide; but I was in no case to speak Randolph’s name in anybody’s hearing, and you see what pains I have taken not to do it. But I don’t care. It’s spite work on Randolph’s part.”
“Of course it is,” answered Rodney, who was so discouraged that he had half a mind to say that he would return to the army, and stay there until one side or the other was whipped into submission. “Mr. Randolph will work against everyone in the settlement now.”
“Very likely. Misery loves company, you know; and perhaps there are more men working against you than you think for. Do you know this Lambert, and has he any cause to be down on you?”
“I do know him, but he hasn’t the shadow of an excuse to be at enmity with me or any of my family,” said Rodney in surprise. And then it was on the end of his tongue to add that Lambert was working for him—standing guard over his cotton to see that no one troubled it, but he afterward had reason to be glad that he did not say it.
“Then he is jealous, or I should say envious, of you, because you are rich and he is poor,” said the captain, reining his horse about in readiness to follow his men, who were now riding toward the bars. “If he and his friends can sell your cotton so that they can pocket the money they’ll do it——”
“But they can’t. He shan’t,” exclaimed Rodney, who was utterly confounded. “He hasn’t brains enough to carry out such a bare-faced cheat, nor the power, either; though no doubt his will is good enough.”
“Randolph says it is; and he says further, that when Lambert finds that he can’t make anything out of that cotton, he’ll burn it. But I must be riding along. I’ll be back before dark, and if this deserter of yours would be glad of my escort, I’ll take him to Baton Rouge with me. What would your Home Guards do to you if they should jump down on you and find him here under your roof?”
“It’s a matter I don’t like to think of,” answered Rodney, “and I shall feel safer if you take him away. Good-by; but I can’t wish you good luck. I wish I had never seen you,” he added under his breath, “for you have robbed me of all my peace of mind. So Lambert is a traitor, is he? and my plan for gaining his good will hasn’t amounted to shucks. I’ll tell father about it the first thing in the morning, and would do it to-day if I didn’t want to see that captain when he returns.”
The deserter came out of his hiding-place when summoned, and eagerly promised to be on hand to accompany the Federal soldiers to Baton Rouge. He didn’t know what he would do for a living when he got there, he said, but it would be a great comfort to know that he would not be forced into the army to fight against the old flag. Rodney was too down-hearted to say anything encouraging, but he gave him a short note to Mr. Martin, who would see that he did not suffer while he was looking for employment. Then he walked out on the porch, for he wanted to be alone, and at that moment Ned Griffin rode into the yard.
“O Rodney!” he exclaimed. “Did that cotton-burning expedition stop here, and do you know that there’s the very mischief to pay? That nigger of Randall’s will never show them where his master’s cotton is hidden, but he’ll take them as straight as he can to yours and Walker’s. I tell you that cotton is gone up unless we do something.”