Chapter I: Signs of War

“Hello, Louis! Want to ride to the depot with me? I am going to bring father home.”

“Certainly, Andy, I’ll go along. Do you expect your father on the eleven o’clock train?”

“He wrote he would most likely be back on that, if he could get away from Washington. He said everything was in such a state of excitement it was impossible to talk business.”

“I suppose that is true,” returned Louis Rockford, as he hopped up on the seat of the wagon, beside his chum. “My father wrote me that it looked as if war must come after all. What a shame Congress can’t settle this matter peaceably.”

“It could, if the Northerners would give us Southerners a chance,” burst out Andy Arlington, as he gave the horse a flick with the whip and sent the animal down the rocky road on a gallop. “The whole trouble is the Northern States want to interfere with our rights, and we won’t have it.”

“I thought the trouble was about the slaves.”

“Well, you can put it that way if you want to. The Southern States own their slaves and have a right to do with them as they please.”

“I don’t think the negroes ought to be slaves, Andy.”

“I don’t know about that. We have got to have help to run the cotton and tobacco plantations, and I reckon most of the colored people are better off now than they would be if they were free. Just look at the free negroes idling about. They are not worth their salt.”

“That may be true. Still, I don’t believe any human being ought to be a slave--it’s barbarous!”

“There’s another thing,” added Andy, with a second flick of the whip. “Years ago--and not so many, either--the Northern States had slaves, and when they got rid of ’em, what did they do? Sold most of ’em to the planters down South. Now those same people want to stop us from using those slaves as we please.”

“I don’t believe they want to do that, exactly, Andy. They want to stop the extension of slavery.”

“It amounts to the same thing.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I say it does. The Northern States want to dictate to us--and we won’t have it--father says so, and Mr. Carroll, and Doctor Barnsby, and all of them--and they ought to know.”

The words were spoken with great emphasis, and as he spoke the Southern lad, with his ruddy-brown face and coal-black hair, glanced half-defiantly at his companion. Louis Rockford’s face fell and then a half-amused look crossed it.

“How hot-headed you do get, Andy! I trust you’re not going to fight over this thing.”

“I’ll fight if I’m called on to fight. I believe in sticking up for my rights. Wouldn’t you fight for your rights?”

“Certainly. But the politicians and the other big men on both sides ought to do their best to prevent bloodshed.”

Andy Arlington drew a long breath, and urged forward his horse again. “This thing has been a-brewing a long time--ever since old John Brown seized the arsenal at Harper’s Ferry and tried to get the negroes to arm themselves. Jefferson Davis and the others have tried their best to straighten matters out and the Northerners won’t listen to them, and I say if it comes to fighting, it will be the fault of the North, and not of the South.”

“And I think you are greatly mistaken,” was the quiet but firm answer. “However,” went on Louis Rockford, as he saw his chum’s face darken, “whatever happens, Andy, let us remain friends.”

“Oh, I’m not making this a personal affair, Louis,” was the hasty response. “I wouldn’t want to count you my enemy for a good deal. But--but--hang it all, I wish you would look at this matter as I, and father, and the rest do.”

“And I wish you would look at it as I and my father do,” laughed Louis. “We’re as bad as the politicians, aren’t we? But I’ll tell you one thing,” went on Louis, gravely. “I’ll never stand for having our glorious United States broken up into separate republics. Our forefathers fought too hard for our colonies to allow anything like that to happen.”

“Well, it is a kind of a shame, in one way, Louis. But the Northern States must learn to keep their hands out of our business--must learn to leave us alone,” said Andy Arlington, with as much spirit as before; and now the mountain-road became so rough that the rattle of the farm wagon over the rough stones made further conversation just then impossible.

As has been mentioned, Louis Rockford and Andy Arlington were chums. Both were nearly seventeen years of age, tall, well-built, and muscular. Andy was dark, while Louis was fair, and each had been brought up upon a large farm or plantation.

The Rockford homestead lay in a valley near the southern boundary of Pennsylvania, at a point where the State of Maryland divided it from Virginia by a stretch of less than twenty miles. It was a well-kept, although rather rocky, farm of a hundred acres, and to it was attached a dairy of no mean proportions.

The Rockford family consisted of five persons--Mr. and Mrs. Rockford, Louis, the only son, and Lucy and Martha, two daughters, one older and the other younger than their brother.

Mr. Rockford had emigrated to Pennsylvania from New York State some fifteen years before and he was, in consequence, a thorough Northern man at heart, and had but little sympathy for those of the South who intended to make slavery and State rights a basis for war. Louis followed his father’s views closely, but both parent and son were of a quiet, peaceful nature, and the idea of possible bloodshed filled them with dismay.

The Arlingtons belonged to one of the oldest families in upper Virginia. Clarence Arlington, the grandfather of Andy, had fought with Washington during the Revolution, and Hugo Arlington, Andy’s father, had followed General Scott to Mexico and lost a leg at the memorable battle of Chapultepec. Father and son were full of the war spirit, and it was plain to see that, as the father, being crippled, could not go, Andy would take up a musket at the first call to arms.

The plantation of the Arlingtons was extensive, but as the ground was not of the best, the tobacco, which was planted from year to year, did only fairly well, and four years before the opening of this story Mr. Arlington had become interested in dairy matters. His first herd of cows had been purchased from Mr. Rockford, and this transfer of property had led to the two families becoming warm friends. Later on, both men had purchased a drove of cattle from the West, and in the work of dividing up this herd Louis and Andy had assisted, and soon the two boys were the warmest kind of chums, and when either took a vacation it was only to spend the time at the house of the other.

Louis had now been stopping at the Arlington homestead for over a week. It was just before Christmas time, and there was but little for him to do at home. Early that morning he had gone off alone to see what he could bag in the way of game in the woods along the highway. He had wanted Andy to go with him, but some of the cows were sick, and Andy had to remain behind to give advice concerning the cattle. Louis had shot several rabbits, which now rested in his game pouch. He had been standing near the highway, reloading his shotgun, when Andy came along and invited him to take the ride to the depot at Lee Run, three miles away.

That war was threatened, there could be no doubt. For over two years the North and the South had wrangled over the slave question and over the equally important question of State rights, and a settlement was now further off than ever. More than this, the leaders in South Carolina had actually called a convention for the purpose of deciding whether or not that State should withdraw from the Union. The convention was to have met at Columbia, but as that city was largely infested with smallpox, the convention was removed to Charleston, to deliberate there behind closed doors. And while this was going on the Southern statesmen and politicians at Washington, and elsewhere, were plotting to throw down the gauntlet of war whenever the favorable opportunity arrived.

“Look, Andy, something is up!” cried Louis, as they drove up to the main street of Lee Run. “See what an excited crowd there is at the railroad station.”

“Hurrah! Hurrah for South Carolina!” was the sudden cry which reached their ears. “She’s the State! Hurrah! and may gallant Virginia soon follow her!”

“What is it, Mr. Deems?” cried Andy, as he drew rein in front of the general store fronting the depot. “What’s the shouting about?”

“Didn’t you hear the news, Arlington? South Carolina has seceded from the Union. They are having the greatest jubilication ever heard of down there. ’T won’t be long afore we follow ’em, I reckon,” added the store-keeper.

“Seceded from the Union!” repeated Louis. “Oh, that’s too bad!”

“Bad? Didn’t ye say ‘bad’?” interrupted a tall mountaineer, who stood by, whittling a plug of tobacco with his jack-knife. “I reckon ye don’t know much, boy. Why, it’s jess the best all-fired news I heard tell on fer ten years.”

“That is where our opinions differ,” answered Louis, coldly. “In fact, I don’t see how a State can leave the Union, unless all the other States agree to it.”

“Don’t ye? Say, ain’t ye just a bit Northern-like now?” and the mountaineer squinted one eye suggestively.

“I am from Pennsylvania, if that is what you mean.”

“Thought so. An’ ye don’t agree with us? Think our ideas about slavery an’ sech ain’t o’ no account.”

“I think this present difficulty ought to be settled without breaking up our Union and shedding blood.”

“Waal--” the mountaineer paused long enough to transfer a whittling of hard tobacco to his mouth,--“all I’ve got to say is, we ain’t gettin’ on our knees to save this infernal Union, nohow, so thar!”

“You ought to be ashamed to speak of our Union as an infernal one,” burst out Louis. “Our Union is the greatest and grandest on this globe, and I for one will help uphold it to the last.”

“Oh, don’t talk so much, Louis!” put in Andy, with a swift rush of blood to his face. “The crowd around here is excited and may not like what you say.”

“But he called our Union an infernal one--”

“Don’t pay any attention to him. I know him. His name is Sam Jacks, and he never did an honest stroke of work in his life. Here comes the train. Let us go over and meet my father and see what he has to say.”

Leaving the horse tied to a near-by tree, the two lads made their way through the crowd to the edge of the depot platform. Soon the train rolled in and the first man to hop down, upon his cork leg, was Hugo Arlington.

“What’s the latest from Washington, Arlington?” cried half a dozen voices, and in a twinkling the veteran was surrounded, so that Andy and Louis could scarcely reach him.

“South Carolina has seceded, that’s the main news--” began Mr. Arlington.

“Yes, yes, we know that. But what do they say at the Capitol?”

“Most of the people can’t believe it. The crowds around the telegraph and newspaper offices are tremendous, and there is a regular mob around the Capitol and the White House.”

“What does President Buchanan say?”

“Hasn’t said anything yet. But there is a rumor that General Scott is to be sent for,” and Mr. Arlington shook his head gravely, for the hero of Mexico was still dear to his heart.

“General Scott! Then they are going to fight it?”

“It looks that way, neighbors.”

A deep murmur arose, and half a dozen began to ask as many different questions. In the meantime the train had rolled away. Mr. Arlington answered the questions as best he could, shook hands with his son and with Louis; and ten minutes later moved over to where the farm wagon had been left standing.

“I must get some groceries before we go home,” said Andy, and hurried into the store.

“Mr. Arlington, do you really think we’ll have war?” asked Louis, when he was left alone with the Southern veteran.

“It looks so, Louis; although I allow I don’t think it will last long if it does come. I think the South will split from the North, and that will be the end of it.”

“But that will be too bad.”

“That’s as how you look at it. The South will be better off alone than under the thumb of Northern dictators. One thing is certain, we’ll do as we please with our slaves.”

At this Louis said no more, for he saw that an agreement with his chum’s father was out of the question. Finding Andy did not return, Mr. Arlington presently leaped from the wagon to learn what had become of him. As Louis sat alone he noticed half a dozen men gathered across the way and talking earnestly. In the crowd was the mountaineer, Sam Jacks, and presently the boy saw this man point toward him.

“We ought to teach thet kind a lesson,” were the words which drifted to his ears, and at once Louis became alert, for he felt he was the subject of the talk that was taking place.

Five minutes more passed, and Louis wished Andy and his father would reappear. Then the crowd stalked over to the farm wagon. The men were all mountaineers and of the roughest class to be found in that vicinity.

“Say, you’re a Northern lad, ain’t ye?” drawled one.

“I am from Goreville, Pennsylvania,” answered Louis.

“Got a big head on ye, ’bout wot the Northerners are goin’ to do to us,” added a second of the group.

To this Louis made no reply. His silence seemed to anger the entire crowd.

“Get down from thet seat!” suddenly roared Jacks, catching Louis by the arm and jerking him forward.

“Let go! What do you mean?” cried the youth, trying to draw away.

“We are goin’ to teach you-uns a lesson!” cried another of the mountaineers. “Come down!” and he, too, caught hold of Louis.

But now the youth was fairly aroused, and leaping to his feet managed to wrest himself free from his second assailant. Then, as quick as a flash, he caught up the horsewhip.

“Let go!” he commanded, to Jacks. “Let go, or I’ll let you have this across the face!”

“I’ll let go--I will!” roared the mountaineer, and pulled Louis to the ground. Yet, as the youth went down, the whip swung around, and the lash took Jacks across the nose, leaving an ugly ridge behind.

The next moment Louis found himself surrounded. In vain he tried to beat off his captors. With a savage cry, Jacks felled him to the ground, and ere he could recover the mountaineers caught him up by the arms and legs and bore him off in triumph towards the town pump and watering-trough.