True To His Colors Part 7

"That's what I don't know till I read it. It's something about them babolitionists that our gover'ment has ordered to get outen here, I reckon. But I'm powerful hungry. I aint had a bite to eat sense I left in the mornin'."

"Well, then, where's the meal an' bacon I told you to fetch along when you come home?" inquired Mrs. Goble. "I told you plain as I could speak it that there wasn't a drop of anything to eat in the house; an' here's the young ones been a-howlin' for grub the whole day long."

"Land sakes, if I didn't forget all about it," said Goble regretfully. "But how on earth am I goin' to get grub when I aint got no money to pay for it? Our committee didn't give me no money to-day kase I didn't have nothing to tell 'em. 'Pears like all the traitors keep mighty glum when I'm around. See two or three of 'em talkin' together, an' they shet up the minute I begin to sidle up to 'em."

"You aint wuth shucks to work for that committee," replied his wife impatiently. "If I was a man an' had the job, I'd tell 'em something every hour in the day."

"How could you when there wasn't nothing to tell, I'd like to know?"

"I'd find plenty, I bet you. You haven't disremembered how them babolitionists an' the free n.i.g.g.e.rs used to talk, about the time John Brown was makin' that raid of his'n, have you?"

"'Course I aint; but them's old stories now. They've kept mighty still tongues in their heads sense that time."

"No odds if they have. They was Union then, an' they're that same way of thinkin' now; an' the talk that would have hung 'em then, if our folks hadn't been jest the peaceablest people in the world, would get 'em into trouble now if it was brung up agin 'em."

"An' would you tell them stories all over agin if you was me?" exclaimed Bud Goble.

"I wouldn't do nothing else."

"Jest as if they happened yisterday?"

"Toby sure. You want money, don't you? an' that there committee of yourn won't give you none 'ceptin' you can tell 'em sunthin', will they?"

"Now, that's an idee," exclaimed Mr. Goble, gazing admiringly at his wife. "I never onct thought of that way of doin'."

"You never think of nothing till I tell you what to do," said Mrs. Goble sharply. "You've had no end of good jobs that you could have made money on if you'd only worked 'em right, but you won't listen to what I tell you. I don't reckon you see how you could make money two ways outen the job you've got now, do you? You might go to all the Union folks, n.i.g.g.e.rs an' whites, an' tell 'em that if they don't give you some clothes for your fambly to wear, an' grub for 'em to eat, you will have that there committee of yourn after 'em, mightn't you?"

"So I could," exclaimed Bud gleefully. "But I'll tell 'em I want money for keepin' still about what I've heard 'em say."

"You won't do nothing of the sort," said his wife almost fiercely. "If you get money, you'll set in to loafin' around Larkinses', an' I won't see none of it, nor any grub or clothes nuther. Look around the house an' into the cubboard an' see if you oughtn't to be ashamed of yourself for swillin' so much apple-jack. Get the grub, I tell you, an' give some on 'em a hint that you want an order on the store keeper to get me a new dress I've been needin' for the last six months. That's one way to make it pay. Then go to that committee an' tell 'em what you've heard them babolitionists an' free n.i.g.g.e.rs say about John Brown bein' right in what he did, an' they'll give you sunthin' for bringin' 'em the news."

"But them old stories won't be news."

"No odds. They're what the committee wants, an' you're plumb blind that you can't see it."

Bud Goble placed his elbows upon his knees, fastened his eyes upon the glowing coals on the hearth, and took a minute or two to consider the matter. Then he got upon his feet and went out into the darkness without telling his wife where he was going or what he intended to do. But that did not trouble Mrs. Goble. She administered a hearty shake to one of the ragged children who querulously demanded to know why pap hadn't brung home sunthin to eat, and then filled a fresh pipe and lighted it with a brand from the fire.

Bud climbed the fence that ran between the road and the little barren pasture in which he permitted his pigs to roam (when he had any), worked his way through a narrow strip of woodland, and finally struck the lane leading from Mr. Riley's tobacco patch to the negro quarter a double row of whitewashed cabins in which the field-hands lived. A few minutes later, after making free use of a club with which he had taken the precaution to arm himself, and fighting his way through a battalion of c.o.o.n dogs that a.s.sembled to dispute his progress, he opened the door of one of the cabins and entered without ceremony. If the occupants had been white folks, Bud wouldn't have done that; but who ever heard of a Southern gentleman knocking at a negro's door?

"What made you-uns set there like so many b.u.mps on a log when you heard me comin'?" was the way in which he greeted Uncle Toby and his family, who were sitting in front of the fire resting after the labors of the day. "Why didn't you come out and shoo off them dogs of your'n? You'd best be mighty careful how you treat me, kase I'm a bigger man in this settle_ment_ nor you think I be. What's that you're shovin' out of sight behind your cheer? Let me have a look at it."

Uncle Toby was one of the most popular negro preachers in the county, and had been known to boast of the fact that he addressed a larger Sunday morning congregation than any white minister in Barrington. Bud Goble thought he was a dangerous n.i.g.g.e.r to have around, and often asked Mr. Riley why he did not "shut him up." But the planter only laughed and said that if old Toby could preach so much better than the Barrington ministers, he didn't think he ought to be deposed. So long as the darkeys who came into his grove of a Sunday had pa.s.ses from their masters, it was all right; but there was something that was not all right, and it was the occasion of no little uneasiness and perplexity to Mr. Riley. By some hocus-pocus Toby had learned to read his Bible. There was nothing wrong in that, of course, but a darkey who could read his Bible would be likely to read papers as well; and from them, especially if they chanced to be Northern papers, he might imbibe some ideas that no slave had any business to entertain. It was said, and Bud Goble believed it, that Toby had a great deal to do with the "underground railroad" that had carried so many runaway negroes to freedom. You will be surprised when you hear that Bud was ignorant enough to take this expression literally. He really thought that some one had built a railroad under Barrington for the purpose of a.s.sisting discontented slaves to escape to Canada, and some of the wags at the military academy offered him a large sum of money if he would find it and conduct them to it, so that they might tear it up. Bud concluded that somewhere in the woods there must be a ladder or flight of stairs that led down to the railroad, and he spent days in looking for it. When Mr. Riley, taking pity on his ignorance, explained the matter to him, Bud was fighting mad; and ever since that time he had been watching for an opportunity to be revenged upon the boys who had played upon his credulity.

"Let me have a look at that there thing you was a-shovin' out of sight behine your cheer when I come in," repeated Bud, striding up to the fire-place and catching up the article that had caught his eye. "Looked to me like one of them 'sendiary papers, an' it is too. What business you got to be readin' like a white gentleman?" he added, slapping Toby on the head with the paper which he picked up from the floor.

"Oh, Ma.r.s.e Gobble," began Toby.

"'Tain't my name," howled Bud, who always got angry whenever anybody took liberties with his cognomen. "G-o don't spell Gob, does it? You can't read or spell alongside of me, but you know too much to be of any more use around here. Me and Mr. Riley b'long to the Committee of Safety, an' it's our bounden duty to take chaps like you out in the woods an' lick ye. What do you say to that?"

Old Toby was so very badly frightened that he could not say anything. He had been caught almost in the act of reading a copy of the New York Tribune, and what would Mr. Riley say and do when he heard of it? The latter was known far and wide as a kind master. He gave his slaves plenty to eat and wear and never overworked them; but he believed as most of his cla.s.s did, and it wasn't likely that he would deal leniently with one of his chattels who would bring a paper like the Tribune on the plantation, and afterward spread discontent among his fellows by preaching in secret the doctrines he found in it. Bud easily read the thoughts that were pa.s.sing in the old negro's mind, and told himself that Susie deserved a new dress in return for the suggestions she had given him. He saw his advantage and determined to push it.

CHAPTER VI.

THE STRUGGLE ON THE TOWER.

Toby was said to be the most thrifty and "forehanded" darkey in the settlement. Like all the rest of the black people on Mr. Riley's plantation he had a little garden-patch, and as he and his family were industrious enough to cultivate it properly, they had vegetables to sell at the "great house" and received cash in hand for them. Being a minister, he did not think it right to spend much for clothing or finery, and there were those who believed that he had a goodly sum of money laid by. Bud Goble knew that his larder was generally well supplied, and he had designs upon it now.

"What do you reckon your Moster would do to ye if I should take this here docyment to him an' tell him I found you a-readin' of it?" Bud demanded, looking sharply at Uncle Toby. "It's my duty to do it, kase I b'long to the same committee that he does, bein' one of the most respected an' prominent citizens of Barrington. That's the way my letters come."

"Ma.r.s.e Bud," replied the negro (he did not dare venture on the surname again for fear of exciting his visitor's wrath), "I didn't go for to do wrong-I didn't for a fac'. Dat paper was gin to me-oh, laws, what am I sayin'?"

"Speak it out, n.i.g.g.e.r," exclaimed Bud fiercely. "Who gin it to you, an' how did he come by it in the first place?"

"Suah I don't know how he come by it, Ma.r.s.e Bud," replied Toby, who was greatly alarmed. "I don't know what 'is name was, nudder, kase I nevah seed him afo'. Dat's de Lawd's truth."

"No, I don't reckon it is," answered Bud, with a grim smile. "But as I am here on other business, I won't say nothing more on that p'int at this meetin'. I'll sorter hold it over ye like an overseer's whip, ready to fall when you don't hoe your row like you had oughter. Do you want me to take this here Trybune to your Moster? Well, then, I want you to sell me some of that fine tobacker of your'n. You told me t'other day that you didn't have none; but I reckon you can find some if you look around."

"Mebbe so, sah," replied Toby, with alacrity. His store was growing small, but if by breaking into it he could purchase Bud Goble's silence, he was perfectly willing to do it. He knew that he would never see a cent for the tobacco, for Bud was much too hightoned to use "twist" when he had money to invest in "store plug." He left the room, and in a few minutes returned with three or four big "hanks," which he handed to his visitor with the request that the latter would accept them with his compliments.

"Didn't mean to rob ye, Toby," said Bud, as he wrenched a huge mouthful from one of the "hanks" to test the quality. "But I'll tell ye what's a fact. When I come home tonight, after a meetin' of that there Committee of Safety I was tellin' you about, I found that I had plumb disremembered to fetch along the bacon, meal, an' taters that my wife done told me to bring, an' so I thought I would jest run over an' see if I couldn't borry some of you to last me a few days."

Old Toby was astonished at the proposition. It was on the end of his tongue to refuse point-blank; but when he glanced at Bud he thought better of it. The latter was trying to look good-natured, but there was an expression on his face that brought all the negro's fears back to him with redoubled intensity. He saw very plainly that it would take more than a few twists of tobacco to make Bud Goble keep his lips closed.

"Ise got a little meal an' some few taters, Ma.r.s.e Bud," said Toby reluctantly. "But I tell you for a fac' dat de bacon we done drawed from de oberseer won't las' de week out for my own folks, let alone giving you some of it."

"Oh, well, I aint so sot on havin' bacon," replied Bud. "Give me two or three of them yaller-legged chickens of yourn, an' they will do jest as well. It's a mighty far ways back to town, an' I do despise walkin' there in the dark," he continued, seeing that Toby hesitated. "It's nigher to the great house, an' so I reckon I'll go up an' smoke a pipe with Riley."

"Set down, Ma.r.s.e Bud," cried Toby hastily. "Set down in dat cheer an' I'll have de things you want directly. An' say, Ma.r.s.e Bud, when I get 'em, will you give me dat paper?"

"Oh, yes; you can have the paper," said the visitor. And to show that he meant what he said, he tossed it upon the nearest shakedown.

"Thank you, sah; thank you kindly," said Toby, with the mental resolution that he would throw that tell-tale paper into the fire as soon as the visitor took his leave. "If I see dat man agin I'll tell him I don't want no mo' dat sort of trash to read. I'll be back in jes' a minute."

Toby was gone a good deal longer than that, but when he returned he brought with him two meal bags, partly filled, which he placed upon the floor beside Bud Goble's chair. The latter thrust his arm into them, one after the other, and found that the first contained corn meal enough to keep him and his hungry family in hoe-cake until he could earn money from the committee to buy more, and that there were three chickens and about a peck of potatoes in the other.

"That's what I'm a-needin'," said he, with a satisfied chuckle. "I bid you a kind goodnight, you an' your fambly; an' if I hear anybody talk about takin' you out in the bresh an' lickin' on ye, I won't let 'em."

Toby stood in the door to "shoo off the dogs," and drew a long sigh of relief when he saw his unwelcome guest disappear in the darkness.

"Dinah," said he, when he returned to the cabin, "de money you've got in dat stockin' of yourn has got to be buried in de groun' somewhar de first thing in de mawnin'. Ise dat skeared of having it in de house dat I can't sleep. I thought sure dat Gobble white trash man gwine ask for dat money."

Bud was not long in reaching home. He was so highly elated that he seemed to be treading on air, and the distance was pa.s.sed over almost before he knew it. It was the source of great gratification to him to learn, by actual test, that his relations with the Committee of Safety put such power into his hands. There was one thing about it, he told himself: From that time forward he and his family would have more and better food to eat than they had ever had before, and be better clothed. If the scheme he had just put into operation would work once, he was positive it would succeed every time it was tried.

"There, now!" exclaimed Bud triumphantly, as he walked into his own house and dropped the bags by the side of his wife's chair. "Two heads are better'n one, if one is a woman's head. There's meal an' taters an' chickens; now go on an' dish up a good supper. I'll get your dress to-morrer."

"Where you goin' to get it?" inquired his wife, knocking the ashes from her pipe and rising from her seat. The knowledge that there was food in the house put a little energy into her, and at the same time quieted the complaining children.

"I'm workin' this job for all there is into it, let me tell you," replied Bud, taking his wife's pipe from her hand and filling it for his own benefit. "I ketched old preacher Toby with a babolition paper in his hand, an' that's the way I come to get the grub an' tobacker. To-morrer I'll go an' call on the storekeeper. He told me t'other day that he wouldn't trust me no more, but I kinder think he'll change his mind when I tell him that I'm onto that committee. An' then there's that Meth'dist preacher, Elder Bowen, who I suspicion gin Toby that babolition Trybune. There's a heap of hams an' side-meat in that smokehouse of his'n, an' it sorter runs in my mind that I can talk him into givin' me some of it."