re until she bade Gabriel good-bye at her father's
gate. He thought she was angry, while she was wondering if he considered
her bold.

CHAPTER TWELVE

_Caught in a Corner_

It was no difficult matter for Nan Dorrington to infer what course of
action Gabriel intended to pursue. The Union Leagues established in the
South under the auspices of the political department of the Freedman's
Bureau had already excited the suspicion of the whites. The reputation
they instantly achieved was extremely sinister, and they had become the
source of much uneasiness. There was an air of mystery about them which,
however pleasing it might be to the negroes, was not at all relished by
those who had been made the victims of radical legislation. There were
wild rumours to the effect that the object of these leagues was to
organise the negroes and prepare them for an armed attack on the whites.

These rumours were to be seen spread out in the newspapers, and were to
be heard wherever people gathered together. Nan was familiar with them,
and, while both she and Gabriel were possibly too young to harbour all
the anxieties entertained by their elders, they nevertheless took a very
keen interest in the situation; and it was not less keen because it had
curiosity for its basis.

Gabriel had no sooner digested the purport of the conversation to which
he had listened than he made up his mind to unravel, if he could, the
mystery of the Union League, and to discover what part the new-comer,
the companion of the Rev. Jeremiah Tomlin, proposed to play. It was
characteristic of the lad that he should act promptly. When he left Nan
so unceremoniously, he ran to the Clopton Place to report what he had
heard to Mr. Sanders, but he found that worthy citizen in no condition
to give him aid, or even advice. Meriwether Clopton chanced to be in
consultation with some gentleman from Atlanta, and could not be seen,
while Francis Bethune was said to be in town somewhere.

It was then that Gabriel made up his mind that he would act alone. He
knew the old school-house in which the league was to be organised, as
well as he knew his own home. It had formerly been called the Shady Dale
Male Academy, and its reputation, before the war, had gone far and wide.
Gabriel had spent many a happy hour there, and some that were memorably
unpleasant, especially during the term that a school-master by the name
of McManus wielded the rod. Among the things that Gabriel