A Rebellion in Dixie

“I declare, it is always so,” soliloquized Leon. “When you get everything going just as you want it to, there is always somebody to step in and knock the thing into a cocked hat. Smith won’t get the money, and he might as well give up trying.”

“Bring on your rebs, I say,” repeated Dawson, raising his carbine and looking all around. “We’re ready for a fight!”

“You may sing a different tune from that,” said Mr. Giddings.

“I know I may, but I hope not,” said Dawson. “I want to keep up long enough to pay the rebels for burning our house.”

It was three o’clock when they arrived within sight of Ellisville, and then Mr. Dawson, who had been riding all the way with Mr. Sprague, took command. Under his supervision the Union men were all posted behind the breastworks, and each one knew where he belonged. His camp was right where he halted, and all the men had to do was to throw off their arms, picket their horses and wait for dinner and supper, which were to be served together. If there was anything to which Leon objected it was to being held down with a firm hand. He wanted to go with his father, for by doing that he knew that he would be in a fair way to learn all the news that happened within the borders of the Jones-County Confederacy, as well as some things that occurred outside of it; so he climbed the breastworks and went down to the porch of the hotel, where he found all the chief men of the county gathered and holding a consultation with his father.

“I thought it best to burn the bridge, and move our pickets up nearer headquarters, for it would put the rebels to some trouble to swim their horses over the creek,” Mr. Knight was saying to his father when he came up. “If we only had our breastworks built nearer the creek we could whip them before they ever got across.”

“I think that is the best way, and I wondered long ago that you didn’t think of it before,” said Mr. Sprague. “Halloo! there is something coming, down there. And what’s that waving over them? It is a white flag, as sure as I live! Knight, you are getting to be a big man when the enemy comes to consult you in that way.”

“I declare, I believe that’s what it is!” said Mr. Knight, after he and the other chief men of the party had taken a good view of it. “Now, we don’t want them to see how many men we have got, and I want you to order them all into the breastworks out of sight. Tell them that we will describe the whole thing to them after the rebels go away.”

The chief men went off at once to obey the order, and by time the two Confederates got up to the hotel porch there wasn’t more than a half-dozen of them in sight – just enough to act as body-guard for the President. There were two rebels in the party, and with them were four pickets whom they had picked up after they had swam their horses across the creek.

“Here’s a couple of gentlemen who want to see the President,” said one of the pickets. “They have come to us with General Lowery’s compliments and want us to surrender.”

“Well, I guess they can take General Lowery’s compliments back to him and say we didn’t come out here to surrender,” said Mr. Knight.

“I want to see – are you the President?” asked one of the rebels, opening his eyes in surprise.

“I have that honor,” replied Mr. Knight.

The rebels looked at him in profound astonishment. If any of the other men standing around had said that he was the President of the Jones-County Confederacy, they might have believed it; but for this man, who stood there with his coat off, his hands in his pockets and his hat perched on the back of his head – for him to say that he was the head and front of that rebellion, was almost too much. The rebels looked at him, and then they looked at the men standing around. There didn’t seem to be but a few of them, and perhaps it was not going to be much to whip them, after all.

“General Lowery wants you to surrender at once,” said the rebel, who had grown bolder since he looked around.

“You have my answer, sir,” said Mr. Knight.

“If you surrender, we will let the privates off if they will enlist in the army,” said the colonel, for Leon made out that that was his rank. “But the chief men of the party will have to go under arrest and be tried for treason.”

“That’s very kind of General Lowery, but somehow we are not ready to be tried yet. We won’t surrender.”

“Why, my goodness, my friend, there won’t be a living man of you left by this time to-morrow. How many men have you got here, anyway?”

“About five thousand.”

“Why, I don’t see anybody.”

“Of course you don’t; but if you bring your four thousand four hundred men up here – ”

“Have you had spies out?” asked the rebel, more surprised than ever.

“We know how many men you have, and we know that we outnumber them,” said Mr. Knight.

“Then, of course, you won’t surrender if you have that number of men. Then we may as well go back.”

“I think it would be as well. We are bound to kill and capture some of the men you bring against us, and to-morrow we’ll send them inside of your lines with their paroles.”

“Yes? Well, their paroles won’t amount to a row of pins.”

“I think they will. If we capture any of the men without being exchanged we’ll hang them to the nearest tree. Good-morning, sir.”

It was right on the rebel’s tongue to tell Mr. Knight to look out or he would get hung himself, but he didn’t say it. After looking all around to make sure that there were no Union men in sight he wheeled his horse and rode off, accompanied by the pickets. No sooner were they out of sight around the first bend than the men began to pour out of their breastworks, and in five minutes more the hotel grounds in front of the porch were just black with an eager, excited crowd, all anxious to hear what the rebels had to say. Mr. Sprague took the part of spokesman, and when he told them what the Confederates had said about there not being one Union man left alive by this time to-morrow, the announcement was received with whoops and yells.

“Let them bring their men on!” shouted Bud McCoy. “We are all ready for them.”

“You must remember that the demand for a surrender comes before a fight,” said Mr. Sprague. “They may be up here in an hour, and I think I had better send some men down there to reinforce those pickets.”

“I’ll go for one,” and “I’ll go for another,” were the exclamations that arose from the crowd, and in less time than it takes to tell it five hundred men were all mounted and armed, and rode up to the porch to listen to their final instructions from Mr. Knight. Leon wanted to go, too, but a positive shake of the head from his father told him that that thing wouldn’t do at all.

“You will get fighting enough if you stay right here,” said Mr. Sprague. “You do your duty here under my eye and that is all I shall ask of you.”

“Make as good a fight as you can, boys,” said Mr. Knight. “Only, don’t let them get behind you. Be sure and retreat while you have the chance.”

The reinforcements rode on down the road with Mr. Dawson in command, and as soon as they were out of sight a silence fell upon the men they had left behind. All were listening for the first report of a carbine or rifle that should announce the opening of the battle. One hour passed, and then two, and just as darkness came down to conceal the movements of the rebels the long-wished-for report came. It was followed by a moment’s silence, and then it seemed as if a hurricane was going through the woods. The Confederates had deployed their line until it reached the woods, where it was lost to view, and in that manner charged across the stream and through the timber. But where were the Union men who were to oppose them? For three miles they went through the woods, and then all of a sudden the opposition came when they least expected it. It was the report of a carbine in the hands of young Dawson, and the nearest colonel threw up his arms and fell from his horse. A moment afterward the woods were fairly aflame in advance of them. Scarcely a yell was heard, for the Union men fought as though they had life and liberty at stake.

“Fire low, boys,” said Mr. Dawson, as he loaded up for another shot. “If you strike a man in the legs it will take two to carry him off.”

The Union men fired three times before they thought of retreat, and the middle of the line was not only thrown into confusion, but it was annihilated, so that their officers could not get anybody to charge upon their concealed enemy; but the wings were all right – they were stretched out so far in the woods that they could easily wrap around the Union men and capture them all – and they hastily got on their horses and beat a quick retreat. The company that came along the road was badly cut up. They were marching in column of fours, and it was their intention, after they got the Union men in full flight, to follow them in, and they would go with such rapidity that they would take the breastworks at once. But after the smoke had cleared away there wasn’t more than a dozen men left. The riders had been shot down, and the horses, having no one to control them, were running frantically about, trampling the dead and dying under their feet.

“That’s pretty well done for the first time,” said Mr. Dawson, when he had made up his mind that all of his battalion were in the road. The rest were in the woods, and could easily fight their way to Ellisville. “Now, boys, give them as good as they send.”

The retreat to Ellisville was accomplished in short order, and when the rebels broke from the woods and uttered their charging yell they couldn’t see a single man. They were all behind their breastworks.

“I tell you we gave it to them down there in the woods,” said Dawson, as he rode along behind the breastworks until he found Leon and Tom. “You ought to have been along. I reckon I have paid the rebels for burning our house. I lifted one officer out of his saddle as clean as a whistle.”

“Did you kill him?” asked Leon.

“Well, I reckon so. He threw his arms above his head, and that is a pretty good sign that he was done for.”

“Did you hear any bullets come near you?” inquired Leon, who shuddered when he thought how coolly Dawson could talk of shooting another in cold blood.

“Yes, sir, I heard them; but the rebels fired too high. I saw one man clap his hand to his mouth and say ‘Oh!’ but I didn’t see who it was. There they come!” said Dawson, grasping his carbine with a firmer hold and creeping up to an opening in the breastworks. “Now, Leon, show what you are made of.”

“It is certain death to send those fellows up here!” said Leon. “I wish I could warn them away.”

“Haw! haw!” laughed Dawson. “They know what is behind here better than we can tell them. If they don’t, they will soon find it out.”

Mr. Sprague stood a little ways from Leon with his rifle in his hand. He had charge of the brigade now, and it was his duty to give the order to fire. Nearer and nearer came the rebels, yelling like so many mad men, but the report of Mr. Sprague’s gun couldn’t be heard. As soon as the men saw him raise his piece to his shoulder they all fired, and the way the rebels went down before it was certain proof that their bullets had not all been thrown away. But these men were not to be defeated by one volley. They kept on until they reached the breastworks, and then they found that they were too high to be scaled by their horses. The Union men on the other side reached over and fired their guns in their faces, until the Confederates could stand it no longer. They turned their horses and fled, and did not stop until they were safe in the woods, from which they had just emerged.

“Long live the Jones-County Confederacy!” shouted some one in the ranks; and the shout was taken up by all the men in the line.

“Let’s go after them!” said another. “We can easy whip them.”

“No, stay where you are,” said Mr. Sprague, who got his instructions from Mr. Knight. “We can whip them here, but if we should get out of line of the breastworks they might prove too much for us.”

It was the occasion of no little difficulty for the Confederate officers to rally their men, and the trouble was that those who belonged to the right and left wings reported that it was impossible to flank the Union position. Those on the right said that there was a swamp in which many men had been killed in their efforts to get around it, and the men who belonged on the left reported that there was the river there, and that any attempt to get by it would be useless. General Lowery began to see that the Union men were not to be easily whipped, but he used all his eloquence and authority to induce them to make an effort to carry the centre of the line. He dismounted some of his men with instructions to go and throw down the breastworks, and the rebel cavalry was to be close behind them and go in at the openings they had made. This was the plan that General Lee decided on when he made the attempt to split Grant’s lines by his assault on Fort Steadman. He had half his army in that exploit, but his effort ended just as General Lowery’s did to split the Union lines here. The second attempt was grandly made, and the fight lasted a little longer than it did at first; but the dismounted men were quickly picked off, the cavalry began dropping here and there, and finally, without a word from anybody, they all took to their heels. This time there was nothing said about pursuit, for the Union men had their blood up, and nobody could have controlled them. By the time the rebels were in the woods the Union men had mounted their horses and started after them. Leon was in this exploit, and his father did not tell him to stay behind. He didn’t find any Confederates on the way, but he assisted in making some noise, so he did just as much as anybody.

This was the last attempt that was made to break up the Jones-county Confederacy. The rebels saw that the Union men were in earnest and they gave it up as a bad job. A week afterward a big wagon-train was captured and taken to their place of refuge on the island, and after that the Union men breathed a good deal easier. They were going to have grub enough to support them, no matter what happened. About this time, too, some more men began to come in, and Leon saw the army grow from one thousand men to more than twenty thousand. Of course with such an army as that the Confederates wouldn’t try to whip them. They minded their own business, going out whenever they thought that their provisions were getting low, and picking up wagon-trains and taking them where they would do the most good. Of course, too, these parties when they went out always captured some papers, which were read until they almost crumbled to pieces. When the rebels were defeated at Vicksburg and Gettysburg the Union men drew a long breath of relief, for they thought that the war was almost ended and that they could go home; but there were some severe battles to be fought before their flag could wave over the entire country. One day, long months after this, when Leon had got so tired of being a soldier that he wished that the Confederacy would sink or do something else that would wipe it out of existence, he was out with a party of skirmishers, when they ran plump onto a rebel soldier who had a gun on his shoulder, and acted as though he was going somewhere. In an instant Bud McCoy’s pistol was aimed at his breast.

“Put up your revolver, young man!” said the rebel, who did not seem at all abashed by finding himself in the company of Union men. “You belong down in Jones county, don’t you? Well, I want to say that you are behind the times. General Lee has surrendered!”

Bud and the rest were so astonished that they could not say a word.

“It’s a fact,” continued the rebel. “I wasn’t there, because I was in our Western army, but I heard of it, and more than five thousand of us escaped that night. The Confederacy has gone up!”

“I tell you I am glad of it,” replied Leon. “Why didn’t you surrender when you got whipped at Gettysburg?”

“A good many men said it ought to have been done,” answered the rebel, “but I wasn’t at the head of affairs. You had better let me go, for I want to reach home and see my wife. I haven’t seen her since I went into the service.”

The foragers were only too glad to let him go. They would have passed anybody who brought such news as that; and, furthermore, they wheeled their horses and went back to Ellisville with much more speed than they had shown in coming out. There was joy on the island when they told what the rebel had said to them, and some of the men fired off their guns in ecstacy; but Mr. Knight said that the rebels had so long been accustomed to lying that they didn’t know when they spoke the truth, and suggested that it would be better for them if they sent a couple of men down to Mobile to see what was going on there. Any number of men offered themselves, but two were promptly sent, and while they were gone the refugees hardly knew what to do with themselves. In due time the men came back, and, better than all, they swung a paper over their heads.

“It’s a Yankee paper, and now we’ll get at the truth of the matter,” said one of the messengers. “Yes, sir, Lee has surrendered; that whole army has surrendered, and the fortifications down at Mobile are just black with Yankees!”

Cheers long and loud rent the air at this announcement, so that it was a long time before Mr. Sprague could read what the paper said in regard to Lee’s surrender. When he read it, the cheers once more broke out afresh.

“They said that we couldn’t take this county out of the Confederacy,” said Mr. Knight. “I reckon we’ve done something that nobody else could do.”

A day or two after this, companies of Union cavalry began scouting about Mobile to see if they could find any rebels, and some of them presented themselves before Mr. Knight. The officer listened in amazement while he was told the story, and when Mr. Knight had got through he laughed until he could hardly sit on his horse. The Union men all laughed, too; and, taken all together, it was a jolly party – very different from what they felt while they were resisting the cavalry that tried so hard to overpower them. The officer told them that they could go home, that the war was ended, and that they would never be called upon to fight for the flag again.

After that there was a good deal of excitement in and around Ellisville, for the refugees were making efforts to go home. The bridge over the bayou that had been burned to keep the rebels from getting across so easily was rebuilt, and after that Leon and his father had their hands full in saying good-bye to the Union men, who wished them every success in life. Then they went home and went to work, getting their ground ready to plant a supply of cotton, glad indeed to handle a plow once more instead of a rifle. Their object was to throw Smith off the scent. They had seen him a few times during the last few months, but he had nothing to say to them; but the sequel proved that he knew what he was talking about when he threatened to camp on his cousin’s place and shoot the man or boy who came there for the money. He lived in Mr. Smith’s house, for the rebels had not had time to set the buildings on fire; but it was close to the pig-pen, so it would be next to impossible for them to go there and dig for what was hidden in it, and every day he rode over the plantation, to make sure that the Spragues had not dug in some other place. Mr. Sprague kept close watch of his movements, and one day announced to Leon his plan of action.

“We will go there and hunt for that money to-night,” said he. “But, mind you, we won’t dig where it is. We will go down into the lower part of the plantation and dig there, and when we come away we’ll leave a shovel there. How will that do? He will be sure to see the shovel, and at night he will watch that place and leave the pig-pen free for us.”

Leon didn’t see that anything else could be done, so he readily fell in with his father’s proposal. When night came they set out, and selecting a place where some brush had been thrown to get it out of the way, they threw it aside, and in a few minutes had a hole dug there that was six feet deep. Then they placed a shovel in a conspicuous position and went home, wondering what was to be the result of Mr. Sprague’s new scheme. They were not long in finding out. The next day about ten o’clock Leonard Smith rode by on his horse, and, seeing the father and son employed in plowing the field, stopped and had a word to say to them.

“You didn’t get the money last night, did you?” he asked, while his face was white with fury. “I know where it is now, and I will give you fair warning that if either of you go there again I will shoot you.”

Mr. Sprague made no reply, and Smith rode off. When night came they set out again – only, this time they went on horseback, and told Mrs. Sprague that if she heard them going by some time during the night – she must pack up the next day and go to Mobile. Mr. Sprague and Leon were armed, of course. They went up the road until they came to Mr. Smith’s gate, and there Mr. Sprague left Leon while he went ahead to reconnoitre. He was gone half an hour, and when he came back his words were full of news.

“There’s nobody about the house,” said he, and one wouldn’t think that he had a hundred thousand dollars at stake. “Now, we must go quickly. Stay by the horses’ heads, so that they won’t call out. I will do the digging.”

With a heart that beat like a trip-hammer Leon dismounted, passed the shovel over to his father, and followed along after him when he led the way toward the pig-pen. The house was all dark, and it didn’t look as though anybody lived there, but Leon couldn’t help drawing a long breath when he thought of the unerring rifle that was hidden somewhere about. His father got into the pen and pried up the boards, and he did it without causing anything to creak. Then by putting down his shovel in various positions he found where the earth had been disturbed, and then he went to work. Never had he worked so hard before, but it seemed an age to Leon, as he stood there holding fast to the horses. At length, to his great relief, his father seized something and held it over the side of the pen.

“Leon,” he exclaimed, “here’s one of them!”

How heavy it was! But just as Leon was going to take it he heard the sound of horses’ hoofs up Mr. Smith’s lane. His horses heard it, too, and raised their heads to see what was coming.

“Father, father, they are coming back!” he faltered. “Can’t you find the other one?”

“Yes, here it is. Now, you get on your horse and ride for dear life and I will stay behind. I will keep them from overtaking you.”

Leon was on his horse in a moment, the other valise was passed up to him, and in another second he was flying down the road. Mr. Sprague was close behind him, but before they had gone far they heard some muttered ejaculations from the horsemen, followed by the command:

“I declare, there is that Sprague. Halt! I say halt!”

But Leon and his father were not given to halting. Their horses went faster than ever, and by the time Smith – for he was one of the party – had lingered to look at the pig-pen, they were far out of sight. Then followed a volley from their carbines – not one or two of them – but from a dozen which proved that Smith had found more than one man to assist him. But all the balls went high or wild, and Mr. Sprague and Leon got safely off. They crossed the bridge, travelled rapidly along the road that led to Mobile, and by ten o’clock the next day had the money safely in the bank. On the next day but one Mrs. Sprague came along. She told a pretty thrilling story about what had happened to her since Mr. Sprague left. Smith was so mad to think they had got away with the money that he burned her house over her head, and did not even leave her a negro cabin to go in to.

The hidden fortune safe at last.

Here we will leave Leon Sprague, only stating that he came on to Clayton, where Mr. Sprague had some friends, who gave him a cordial welcome. They purchased a neat little house which had been deserted by its owner during the war, and as they now lived there six years it began to look very home-like. He made the acquaintance of Bob Nellis almost as soon as he got into town, through him learned of the academy at which the latter was preparing for college, and went with him and entered his name on the books when he went there next term. Of course he was in the lowest class, but he studied his books night and day, and the result was very soon apparent. In two years he was up with boys of his own age.