"Hallo, boys!" exclaimed Tom, with great apparent cordiality, while Mrs. Randolph shook hands with them one after the other. "You don't know how I have longed to see you both in order to——"
"That's all right," interposed Rodney, who knew there wasn't a word of truth in what Tom had set out to say. "But if you will excuse me—here is an order that I was requested to place in your hands."
"Who's got any right to order me around?" exclaimed Tom, taking the note and fixing his gaze upon the writing on the outside. "'Captain Thomas Randolph, C. S. A.,'" he read aloud. "Somebody has made a big mistake, for I don't belong to the army of the Confederate States, and never did. What's in it?"
"I don't know," answered Rodney; while Mrs. Randolph suggested that it might be a good plan for him to open it and find out. Tom did so with evident reluctance, and before he had fairly had time to make himself master of its contents, he turned as white as a sheet and fell heavily into the nearest chair.
"Oh, my dear boy! What is the matter? What could have disturbed you so?" cried his mother, who was really alarmed.
"I'll not obey it!" shouted Captain Tom, as soon as he could speak. "Who is this Colonel Clark, who takes it upon himself to command me to hold my company ready to move at a moment's notice, and what does he want of the company anyhow?"
"No doubt he wants you to help——" began Rodney.
"But how does he know that there is such a fellow as I am in the world, and that I command a company of State troops?" continued Tom, who was almost beside himself with terror. Acting on his own responsibility and serving under the eye of a Confederate officer were two widely different things. His mother took the note from his hand and read it, and she, too, became visibly affected.
"What can be the meaning of it?" she asked of Rodney.
"It means that there is going to be a battle somewhere in this vicinity, and that Tom must bring his men out to help," was the reply. Rodney had predicted just such a scene as this and was prepared to enjoy it.
"Somewhere in this vicinity!" echoed Tom.
"That's what they tell me, and indeed there has been a skirmish already. Breckenridge is coming here to drive the Yankees out of Baton Rouge, and the _Arkansas_ is coming to assist him."
