The last time we saw these two worthies was shortly after the Confederate General Breckenridge made his unsuccessful attempt to capture Baton Rouge, and the conscripting officer, Captain Roach, disappeared so completely that no one had ever heard a word of him since, and the veteran Major Morgan, backed by fifty soldiers who hated all Home Guards and other skulkers as cordially as they hated the Yankees, came to take his place. Knowing that Captain Roach had been very remiss in his duty, that he had spent more time in visiting and eating good dinners than he had in sending conscripts to the army, Major Morgan hardly gave himself time to take possession of the office in Kimberley’s store before he declared that that sort of work was going to cease entirely, and that everyone in his district who was liable to military duty, Home Guards as well as civilians, must start for the camp of instruction at once or be taken there by force. The news spread rapidly, and in a very few hours everyone in the settlement had heard it. The wounded and disabled veterans of the Army of the Centre, of whom there were a goodly number in the neighborhood, were overjoyed to learn that at last there was a man in the conscripting office who could not be trifled with, and some of the civilians, who came under the exemption clause of the Conscription Act, secretly cherished the hope that Captain Tom and his first lieutenant might be sent to serve under Bragg, who did not scruple to shoot his soldiers for the most trivial offences.
As to Tom and his Home Guards, they did not at first pay much attention to the major’s threats. It was right that civilians should be forced to shoulder muskets, since they would not do it of their own free will, but as for them, they were State troops, and the government at Richmond could not order them around as it pleased. Besides, they had great confidence in Mrs. Randolph’s powers of persuasion. She would never permit her son to go into the army, and having managed Captain Roach pretty near as she pleased, the Home Guards did not see why she could not manage Major Morgan as well; but when it became noised abroad that the latter had curtly refused Mrs. Randolph’s invitation to dinner, intimating that he was not ordered to Mooreville to waste his time in visiting and nonsense, they were terribly frightened, and demanded that Captain Tom should “see them through.” When they enlisted in his company, he promised to stand between them and the Confederate authorities, and now was the time for him to make that promise good; but Tom was as badly frightened as they were, and did not know what to do. When his mother suggested that it might be well for him to put his commission in his pocket, and ride to Mooreville and talk the matter over with the major, Tom almost went frantic.
“Go down there and face that despot alone,” he exclaimed, “while he has fifty veterans at his back to obey his slightest wish? I’d about as soon be shot and have done with it. Besides, what have I got to ride? The Yankees have stolen me afoot.”
Captain Tom knew well enough that he was not telling the truth. It wasn’t Yankees who “stole him afoot,” but men who wore the same kind of uniform he did. You will remember that we compared the short visit of Breckenridge’s army to a plague of locusts. Everything in the shape of eatables in and around Mooreville, as well as some articles of value, disappeared and were never heard of afterward; and among those articles of value were several fine horses, Tom Randolph’s being one of the first to turn up missing. His expensive saddle and bridle disappeared at the same time, and now, if Tom wanted to go anywhere, he was obliged to walk or ride a plough mule bare-back, which was harrowing to his feelings. He wouldn’t appear before a Confederate officer of rank in any such style as that, he said, and that was all there was about it. But, as it happened, the conscripting officer had a word to say on that point. On the morning following his arrival in the village a couple of strange troopers galloped into Mr. Randolph’s front yard and drew up at the steps with a jerk. Captain Tom’s heart sank when he saw them coming, for something told him that they were after him and nobody else; and paying no heed to the earnest entreaties of his mother, who assured him that he might as well face them one time as another, for he could not save himself by flight, he disappeared like a shot through the nearest door, leaving her to explain his absence in any way she thought proper. But after taking a second look at the unwelcome visitors, Mrs. Randolph knew it would be of no use to try to shield the timid Home Guard. The trooper who ascended the steps, leaving his comrade to hold his horse, was a rough-looking fellow, as well he might be, for he had seen hard service. The little pieces of metal on his huge Texas spurs tinkled musically, his heavy cavalry sabre clanked against his heels as he walked, and Mrs. Randolph thought there was something threatening in the sound. He lifted his cap respectfully, but said in a brisk business tone:
“I’d like to see Tom Randolph, if you please.”
“Do you mean Captain Randolph?” corrected the lady.
“No, ma’am. He was given to me as plain Tom Randolph, and that is the only name I know him by. I’d like to see him, if you please.”
“Will you step in while I go and find him?”
“Thank you, no. I have no time to sit down. I am in a great hurry.”
“You can spare a moment to tell me, his mother, what you are going to do with him, can you not?”