Appearing very much disappointed in this object to decoy off the Sheriff, and feeling satisfied that all further attempts in this direction would prove abortive, he all at once exhibited a different phase of countenance, and in a jocular manner slapped the Sheriff on the knee, remarking at the same time, “How or where did you get my name associated with the Copeland Clan?” The Sheriff answered, “Why, my dear sir, do you acknowledge the name as recorded in Copeland’s confessions as belonging to you?” Shoemake made no direct reply, but observed that the people about where he lived were endeavoring to saddle the reflections on him, and that the same was having a very deleterious effect against him. This being so, he requested of the Sheriff, as an act of favor or kindness, to have his name erased, or disposed of in some other way, such as would remove the odium attached, and that he believed the Sheriff to have the power to do all this with propriety. The Sheriff was a little startled as well as excited at such an absurd proposition, and quickly replied to the following effect: “Your requested favor cannot be performed. The matter has altogether passed out of my hands, and it is utterly beyond my control to make any changes. I have only given publicity to the confessions of Copeland, and if he has wrongfully implicated any one the remedy is by an action of law, or better still, by a counter statement supported by the testimony of those whose veracity cannot be doubted.”
Shoemake, discomfitted in his own case on this point, then referred to a correspondence betwixt himself, George A. Cleaveland and others, all of whom were implicated in the pamphlet complained of, and said, from all the information he could gather, unless something was done to relieve the complainants the Sheriff would be sure to have more or less trouble from that quarter. The reply made was pretty much to the same effect as in his own individual case—no hope of success as far as the Sheriff was concerned.
The next question brought forward was an inquiry about a communication from some one at DeKalb, Miss., concerning himself. He was answered in the affirmative to the effect that such a communication had been received. “Very well,” said he, “will you be so kind as to let me see it?”
“I cannot,” replied the Sheriff, “and for this reason, that the author of it made a special request not to let any person see it; consequently I cannot without a breach of good faith, do violence to the request made and involve myself in difficulties, when all can be so easily avoided.” This reply did not satisfy him. He again solicitously pressed for inspection, urging that some d—d rascal had been writing about him, and that he believed it was one by the name of White. He was informed immediately that no person by that name had ever sent any communication whatever, and that he was certainly laboring under wrong impressions in this particular.
He utterly failed to get to see the communication in every effort made for this purpose. The effects were visibly marked on his countenance. Rage and anger, despair and disappointment, with all other of defeated passions, seemed to flit over him in rapid succession; but without any representation in words—only rising with a farewell, such as appeared to the Sheriff ominous of something else, and anything but pleasant in his judgment. After leaving the office he remained in Augusta but a very short time, and when about leaving the place altogether he was heard to say that he would some day meet the Sheriff “at the hatter’s shop.”
SHOEMAKE RETURNS WITH A WRIT FOR THE SHERIFF’S ARREST.
For some five or six weeks after his departure the Sheriff heard nothing more of him; at the expiration of which time he returned in company with a man by the name of Gilbert, though in reality supposed to be one of the Copeland family. This time he bore a requisition from the Governor of Alabama to the Governor of Mississippi for the body of the Sheriff; and strange, and to this day mysterious as it may appear, the requisition was granted.
Some few days previous to the arrival of Shoemake and his assistant, the Sheriff had left Augusta for the Mississippi Sound on a journey to make arrangements for hymenial considerations. Learning the facts of his absence, they set about gathering all the information they could from negroes and the less suspecting class of others relative to his whereabouts and the anticipated time for his return. Having got the information wanted, forthwith they started in pursuit—traveling the same way by which he was compelled to return to Augusta. It is called the Mississippi Cut Road—better known by the name of the Allsberry and McRae railroad. It runs on range line eight, from Augusta to Mississippi City—all the timber on this line being cut and cleared away some thirty-five years ago. It failed of completion, it is said, through the dishonesty of one or more on whom the responsibility devolved; and the only relic now remaining is a good dirt road, for the benefit of the present traveling community.
On this road, not a great distance from Red Creek, there is an extensive morass, which has been cross-wayed for public accommodation, which otherwise would be impassable on horseback. When Shoemake and his assistant arrived at this place they remained, according to the statements of persons in the neighborhood, one or two days in ambush, stationing themselves one on each side of the cross-way, evidently with a design to prevent the Sheriff from seeing either until he had advanced some distance on it, then to close in upon him from both directions, which would have prevented any earthly chance of escape by any other way—the morass is of such a nature as to swallow up in any other part.
