For a moment Ephraim was, as he would himself have expressed it, ‘sot back,’ but he was not one to remain so long, and seizing his rifle, he grasped it by the barrel, and using the butt as a paddle, endeavoured to guide the course of the boat.
‘Quick, Luce!’ he exclaimed. ‘Take yourn, and we’ll see what kin be done. The pesky Yank! Of co’se he’d hid the oars somewhar in the bresh, so as nobody could steal his boat. By time! What an or’nery fool I war not ter hev thort er thet before.’
‘No; it was I who was the fool,’ corrected Lucius, labouring away with his makeshift oar. ‘You had quite enough to do with the letter and the rifles. I should have looked to see if everything was right.’
‘Waal, thar’s a pair of us, then, ef ye will hev it so,’ returned Ephraim gloomily. ‘Ennyway, it don’t matter a corn cob now whose fault it war. The mischief’s done. I wouldn’t so much keer,’ he added, beating the water furiously with his rifle-butt, ‘on’y when that clever captain comes back and finds the oars whar he left ’em, he’ll nat’ally know we must 159be down stream, and they won’t be long gittin’ on our trail.’
Twilight was fast settling over the valley; for the high mountains which surrounded the cup of land in which this living drama was being enacted, effectually shut out the sun as the day declined, and Lucius remarked hopefully that it would soon be dark.
‘It’ll not be so dark ez all thet comes ter on a June night,’ responded Ephraim in a cheerless tone. ‘Thar’ll be plenty er light fer them ter take potshots et us ez we drift along. Yit it ain’t so much fer thet I’m keerin’. I’m thinkin’ er the despatch and the importance it ’ud be ter old Stonewall ter git it before mornin’.—I’m afraid we ain’t doin’ much good with the guns, Luce.’
The crafty captain had removed not only the oars but the rowlocks, and consequently they had no support for their extemporised oars, but were obliged to paddle with them Indian fashion, holding the barrel high and sweeping the butt through the water on either side of the boat. But the rounded, highly polished wood offered little resistance to the rushing stream, and the current swept them steadily down, all their efforts to turn the boat’s head proving ineffectual.
‘We’ll make the Potomac at this rate, ef we go on long enough,’ said Ephraim grimly, the sweat pouring off his face as he strove desperately with his clumsy implement; ‘and then all we hev ter do is ter float gracefully down and give ’em howdy in Washin’ton city.’ He laughed in the very bitterness of his spirit.
They were swirling along only about twenty yards from the south bank; but as Ephraim remarked, they might as well have been a mile away, for by no possibility could they reach it, and he looked longingly at the boughs that dipped into the rushing waters, thinking how different matters would be if only he could lay hold of them.
Suddenly there was a spurt of flame, followed instantly by a loud crack. Ephraim’s cap soared into the air, mounted for a moment and then fell with a dull splash into the river, while its owner, with a shrill yell, tumbled over into the bottom of the boat.
As Ephraim fell, his gun slipped from his nerveless fingers and sank instantly out of sight, and Lucius, hastily drawing his on board, bent terror-stricken over his friend.
‘Oh, Grizzly!’ he cried in piteous tones. ‘What is the matter? Are you shot?’
An inarticulate gurgle from Ephraim was the only reply.
‘Speak to me!’ Lucius almost shrieked. ‘Oh! oh! Surely you are not killed. Speak to me, Grizzly! Speak to me! Oh! oh! Whatever shall I do?’
Thus adjured, Ephraim slowly opened his eyes and looking up into the anxious face bent over him, remarked quaintly, though without the least intention of being humorous: ‘Hello, Luce! Is thar a hole right through my head, or what?’
So great was his relief that Lucius broke into a joyous laugh. ‘Grizzly,’ he demanded with mock severity, ‘if you were not shot, what did you mean by tumbling over; and if you are not killed, what are you lying in the bottom of the boat for?’
‘Ye may say thet, Luce,’ returned Ephraim, uncoiling 161his long length and struggling into a sitting posture. ‘It war a mighty close thing, I reckon. Look at thet.’
He lifted his face as he spoke, and Lucius, with an exclamation of dismay, saw that his forehead was blackened with powder, and that one of his eyebrows and part of his front hair were singed off.
‘Ye see,’ said Ephraim, gingerly touching the raw and tender skin, ‘a leetle more and ye’d hev had ter steer yer way home alone. I reckon it’s a powerful frightenin’ sort er thing, a gun bustin’ off et ye when ye least expect it.’
‘But what happened?’ asked Lucius. ‘I wasn’t looking. That is, I looked up in time to see your cap go off and the gun slip out of your hand. The next I knew you were on your back.’ He gripped Grizzly’s hand and added earnestly: ‘I’m so glad you weren’t killed, old Grizzly.’
‘I’m obleeged ter ye,’ answered Ephraim, still very white about the lips. ‘So am I.’ His voice shook a little as he tried to explain the matter to his comrade. ‘Ye see,’ he went on, ‘this is how I put it up. Ez I war splashin’ around with the gun-butt in the water, the trigger must hev got caught, or the hammer drawn back by a bolt and let go agen. The next thing I knowed war a rush er blindin’ light past my eyes, a wave like the breath er a bit of iron from a blacksmith’s furnace on my forehead, and thet’s all. I went down et thet, and didn’t feel like stoppin’ ter arsk questions.’
‘Was that the way of it?’ said Lucius. ‘At first I thought that somebody had fired at you from the bank.’
‘By time!’ exclaimed Ephraim, the colour rushing back into his face, and his nerves steeling again as he heard this. ‘I tell ye, bub, that’s ezackly what they will be doin’ before very long. Why, don’t ye know, the sound er that rifle-shot’ll bring the Yanks down on us quicker ’n ennything. Luce, we must do suthin’.’
‘What are we to do?’ asked Lucius helplessly. ‘If we could not manage the boat when we had both guns, what shall we do now that we have only one?’
‘Waal, then,’ inquired Ephraim drily, ‘do ye want ter set still hyar while the Yanks make a target er ye? I tell ye I don’t feel that way myself.’ He made a wry face at the thought of his recent experience.
‘I don’t either, you may be sure,’ answered Lucius. ‘But something must be done.—I have it, Grizzly; I have it.’
‘What hev ye struck?’ queried Ephraim, roused by the hope in his voice.
‘Why, of course,’ replied Lucius, ‘let us swim ashore and leave the ugly old boat to take care of herself.’
‘Bullee!’ cried Ephraim, unbuckling his cartridge belt and flinging it into the bottom of the boat. ‘Bullee! So we will. Let’s——Thar’s just one thing agin it, though, Luce,’ he broke off dismally.
‘What’s that?’ demanded Lucius, who had already removed his belts and taken off his coat. ‘What’s against it?’
‘Why,’ answered Ephraim, looking as shamefaced as if he had been confessing to a grievous sin, ‘it ain’t much, maybe; but I reckon it’s enuff. I can’t swim.’
At this plain statement of an unpleasant fact, Lucius looked aghast. ‘Why, of course you can’t,’ he said. ‘I’d forgotten that.’ Then recovering himself, he added cheerily: ‘Well, never mind, Grizzly; I’ll do the swimming. You just grab me lightly round the back and kick out well behind, and I’ll get you there. Tisn’t far.’
Ephraim shook his head. ‘It isn’t ez fur ez all thet, Luce, I ’low,’ he said; ‘but thar’s a tur’ble strong current. Ef I drew ye under by my weight and felt myself drownin’, I might ketch hold on ye and drown ye ez well. A man couldn’t well know what he war about in sarkumstances like thet, ye see. So I’m obleeged ter ye fer thinkin’ er it; but ef it’s all the same, I’d ruther not resk it.’
‘There’s no risk,’ urged Lucius. ‘All you have to do is to hold on tight.’ But Ephraim was obdurate.
‘Well, what are we to do, then?’ asked Lucius disconsolately. ‘Every minute is precious.’
‘I know thet,’ answered Ephraim, ‘and the best thing ter be done is this. Ye swim ashore ez soon ez ye kin. I’ll drift on in the boat, and maybe it’ll be dark afore they find me, and I may run agin a spit or suthin,’ and so git ashore. Thar’s no use lettin’ ’em cotch the two er us. Now, is thar?’ But he looked down as he made the suggestion.
‘I don’t wonder you are ashamed of yourself to propose such a disgraceful thing,’ cried Lucius indignantly. ‘To think for a moment that I would leave you in the lurch just on the chance of saving my own skin, after all you’ve done for me. Oh, Grizzly, what a shame to suppose I would do it!’
‘I didn’t think ye’d do it, Luce,’ mumbled Ephraim, looking a very crestfallen Grizzly indeed. ‘On’y I thort’——
‘I don’t want to hear what you thought,’ interrupted 164Lucius, who was undressing himself while he talked. ‘I’ve made up my mind what to do, and I’m going to do it. So there.’
‘What mought thet be?’ inquired Ephraim, eyeing him curiously.
‘I’ll show you fast enough,’ answered Lucius, now stripped to his shirt. ‘If you are afraid to trust yourself in the water along with me’——
‘Fer fear of drownin’ ye, Luce; fer fear of drownin ye,’ put in Ephraim deprecatingly.
‘Of course. What else? I didn’t suppose you were thinking of yourself. I’ve had teaching enough to know that’s not your way. If you’re afraid of drowning me, then there’s only one thing to be done—I must swim ashore myself and tow the boat after me, with you in it.’
‘See hyar,’ began Ephraim, but Lucius cut him short.
‘Come on, now. Don’t waste time in talking. Fasten the painter round me. You can tie a better knot than I can.’
‘It’ll hurt ye monstrous, Luce,’ said Ephraim.
‘Nonsense! It will not hurt at all, tied around my shirt; and if it should, what matter? It’s better than being shot, I should say. Oh, do be quick! Don’t you see this gives the best chance to both of us to get off scot-free? Tie it tight now. Don’t be afraid.’
Under this incessant urging, Ephraim fastened the rope round Lucius with fingers that trembled a good deal from excitement and apprehensions for the safety of his young comrade. But at last it was done, and Lucius turned and faced him.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘you can see that the current is very 165strong by the rate at which we are travelling. We are not far off the shore; but it may take a long time to get there. I think that I can do it, though; but if not, if I call out to you, or if I should sink, haul me on board again. That’s all you have to do, besides helping as much as you can with the butt of my rifle.’
‘I wish ye wouldn’t, Luce,’ implored Ephraim. ‘The light is goin’ fast, and thar’s no rumpus yit, ez fur ez I kin hear. Ef we hev good luck, they’ll miss us altogether. But ef they come and pop at ye while ye’re in the water’——
‘Pooh!’ interrupted Lucius, ‘I shall be all right. Just you keep a sharp lookout along the bank, and be ready to haul me in if necessary. Good-bye! I’m off!’ He waved his hand, and slipped noiselessly off the gunwale of the boat, feet foremost, into the river.
Meantime a very different scene was being enacted at the Federal camp. Hardly had General Shields informed himself that the scare created by the boys was a false one, and that he had at present nothing to fear from the dreaded and ubiquitous Jackson, than his attention was arrested by the sudden appearance of his ‘admirable civilian,’ Captain Hopkins, who with disordered dress, flushed features, and breathless from running, rushed unceremoniously into the presence of his commanding officer.
‘Captain Hopkins!’ exclaimed General Shields in astonishment. ‘Back already. Why, you’ve been gone little more than an hour.’ Then as his eye fell upon the captain’s untidy dress and general look of tribulation, he added anxiously: ‘There is nothing wrong, is there?’
‘The despatch!’ panted Hopkins. ‘I ‘——
‘Don’t tell me anything has happened to that,’ interrupted Shields vehemently. ‘Surely not. Surely not.’
‘No,’ got out the captain between his struggles for breath; ‘only a leather-headed sentry—a question of identity—won’t let me pass—send some one back with me.’
‘Take time to breathe, sir, and you will be better able to explain yourself,’ fumed General Shields, adding inconsistently: ‘Go on, sir. Don’t keep me waiting all day. Let me hear your news.’
The captain drew a few deep inspirations and felt better. ‘General,’ he said, ‘there is nothing wrong; only a little provoking delay. I found a sentry just about where I had moored my boat, and because I was in civilian dress, he refused to allow me to pass.’
‘Found a sentry alongside your boat!’ repeated General Shields. ‘I thought you had moored it well above the line.’
‘So I thought myself, sir,’ answered Hopkins; ‘but evidently I was in error, for there the sentry was.’
‘But you had the word,’ said Shields in a puzzled voice.
‘Of course, sir; but I’m afraid I behaved rather foolishly, for, having an idea that all was not right, I gave the wrong word, and that made the fellow so suspicious of me, that even when I gave him the right word afterwards, he would have none of me.’
‘You might have explained your business, then,’ suggested the general, ‘rather than have incurred this aggravating delay.’
‘That is just what I did sir,’ protested Hopkins. ‘I 167even went the length of showing him the despatch, and when he seized it’——
‘What!’ vociferated the general. ‘Do you mean to say that the despatch is no longer in your possession?’
‘Hear me out, sir,’ said Hopkins uncomfortably, for he felt that at the very best he made a ridiculous appearance in the affair. ‘I merely held the despatch before his eyes, when he instantly seized it and declared that it must be a bogus document, and I myself a rebel spy.’
‘Then why did you not recover the document by force?’ demanded the general sternly.
‘He had already disarmed me, sir. I was completely at the mercy of his bayonet.’
‘Well, well,’ muttered the general irritably. ‘Go on.’
‘He was for detaining me until the arrival of the rounds; but I gave him my word that I was not a rebel spy, and, with great reluctance, he at last permitted me to depart to obtain evidence of my identity.’
‘Retaining the document,’ mused General Shields. ‘Why did you not appeal to some of the sentries higher up?’
‘You forget, sir, they imagined themselves driven in, and had all returned to the camp.’
‘Then why had this fellow not followed their example?’ inquired General Shields sharply.
‘I asked him the same question, sir, and his reply was that there he had been placed, and there he meant to stay.’
General Shields reflected. ‘I will go with you myself, captain,’ he said at last. ‘You have either been dealing with a very staunch soldier, or a most accomplished rogue. Pray Heaven you have not been fooled in this business.’
‘Oh, I should say not,’ answered Hopkins confidently. ‘The fellow was staunch, as you say, and a bit pig-headed—indeed you might call it thick-headed—but he was not fooling me.’
‘We shall see,’ answered the general drily. ‘It is an awkward business, very.—Major Wheeler,’ he added, turning to a staff officer, who stood close beside him, ‘order a corporal and ten men to follow me, fifty paces in the rear.—Now, Captain Hopkins.’
They walked rapidly across the fields, followed by the corporal and his men, and as they neared the river belt the general said: ‘You are sure you can go straight to the place?’
‘Certain, sir,’ was the reply. ‘See, here is where I broke cover on my way back. We have only to follow the trail I made as I ran.’
‘Humph!’ muttered the general as they pushed through the trees. ‘It is not a little odd that your pig-headed sentry does not challenge us.—Halt!’ he called to the corporal. ‘We will go on alone. March forward when I hail you.’
They went on for another twenty paces, and still remained unchallenged, which was not so very odd after all, considering that there was no one there to challenge them.
‘It is very singular,’ murmured poor Captain Hopkins. ‘I can’t have mistaken the place.—General! General!’ he cried, ‘you were right. I have been fooled. The boat is gone!’
General Shields uttered a fierce exclamation. ‘I’ll be hanged if I didn’t think so from the very first,’ he 169shouted: ‘Here, corporal, bring up your men.—You should not have moved from this spot, sir, when once you lost possession of those papers,’ he thundered at the unfortunate Hopkins. ‘You should have died rather than let them fall into the hands of the enemy, and as you once suspected trickery, there is no excuse for you.’
‘That was at first, sir,’ stammered Hopkins. ‘Afterwards I had every reason to believe that’——
‘Silence!’ raged Shields. ‘Your carelessness has effected enough already without your offering lame explanations. Heaven only knows what the consequences of this wretched fiasco will be to us.—Corporal!’
‘Sir,’ answered the corporal, saluting.
But before the general could issue his order, whatever it was, Hopkins, who had been groping about in the undergrowth, shouted excitedly: ‘Here are the oars and the rowlocks, general, just where I hid them. If the fellow has cut the boat adrift and gone in her, he can’t be far off.’
‘Can’t he?’ sneered Shields. ‘And how do you know, sir, that the rascal had not a boat of his own under the bank, and simply cut yours adrift to lessen the chances of pursuit?’
The bitter suggestion appeared to confound Hopkins for a moment, but he answered humbly: ‘Of course, general, we must allow for possibilities; but if I may be permitted to say so, if the fellow had no boat of his own, and swung out into the stream in mine before he noticed the absence of oars, the current would carry him rapidly down stream. He could not land either on one side or the other.’
‘No,’ sneered the general again; ‘and with a current like that, I think we might as well look for him at Harper’s Ferry by this time. Further, you seem to forget, sir, that the man had the use of his hands, and by clinging to the trees alongside the bank, might very well work the boat up stream in the direction of the enemy.—Moreover,’ he muttered vexedly to himself, ‘we have no proof that he ever left dry land. Such a fellow, in Federal uniform, too, might pass anywhere.—And I’ll be bound, sir,’ he flashed out at the miserable Hopkins, ‘that your carelessness has put him in possession of the countersign. Gad! I shall have him mounting guard outside my quarters to-night if I don’t take care. This must be seen to.—What was he like, sir? What was he like? Describe him.’
‘He was a tall, loosely made young man, sallow complexioned, and with a quantity of black, curling hair upon his cheeks and chin,’ answered Hopkins feebly, utterly taken aback by this new view of the situation.
General Shields started as if he had been stung. ‘By George!’ he said under his breath. ‘If I don’t believe that was the identical fellow I spoke with this morning, and who told me that rigmarole about the balloon. Perhaps I have been too hard upon Spriggs. I have been, if my suspicions are correct. And if so, this is a dangerous fellow. We must lay him by the heels without delay.—Corporal!’
‘Sir,’ said the corporal again.
But once more the general’s order was stayed upon his lips, for at that moment a solitary rifle-shot rang out, far down the river. It was that caused by the accidental discharge of Ephraim’s gun.
‘There he is! there he is!’ began Hopkins excitedly; but the general silenced him with a wave of his hand.
‘We have no proof of that, Captain Hopkins,’ he said coldly. ‘I do not suppose that if your friend wishes to escape, he is likely to go gunning on the Shenandoah. However, we will take measures to ascertain.—Corporal!’
‘Sir,’ answered the corporal once more, and this time he received his order.
‘Send five of your men up the river to thoroughly search the bank. Take the other five with you down the river in the direction of that shot. Lose no time, and leave no stone unturned to secure the man whom Captain Hopkins has just described. You noted the description?’
‘Yes, general.’
‘Very good. Be off, then. Remember the fellow is—or was—in Federal uniform.—Now, Captain Hopkins, attend to me, if you please. You will return to camp at once, give Major Wheeler my compliments, and repeat your description of this man. Then add that it is my order that he at once send out search parties in all directions, up the river, down the river, and in and about the woods, with instructions to bring before the provost-marshal every stray Federal soldier they can pick up. We shall recover a lot of stragglers that way, even if we do not get our man. And—er—one thing more,’ as Hopkins moved away. ‘When you have executed this order, you will’——
‘Yes, general?’ said Hopkins, quailing under the former’s withering look.
‘Report yourself to your colonel as under arrest, sir,’ snapped the general, and turned upon his heel.
Left alone, General Shields made a careful survey of the river and the bank in his immediate vicinity, but finding nothing for his pains, returned without further delay to the camp, where he at once gave orders that the pickets should be doubled along the line next the enemy, and also, as might have been expected, changed the countersign for the night.
The moment Lucius took the water, it became plain to him that he had entered upon no light undertaking, and looking round, he informed the Grizzly of this.
‘Say, Grizzly,’ he cried, ‘this is going to take me all my time. The current is tremendous. Watch out now, and the moment you see that the rope is taut, work your paddle for all you’re worth, so as to bring her nose round.’
He drew a deep breath, and turning half over, cleft the water with a powerful side-stroke, in order to bring the greatest possible force to bear on the nose of the boat, and suddenly. It told. She stopped with a shiver, the water churning at her bows, and slowly her nose began to come round. Ephraim worked madly with his rifle-butt, hissing at every splash like a stable-boy grooming a horse.
‘She’s round!’ he cried joyously. ‘She’s round, Luce! Her nose is ter the bank!’
On hearing this satisfactory piece of intelligence, Lucius turned over on his chest and swam with frog strokes towards the shore. He was wise enough not to attempt this in a bee-line, but moved diagonally, content to progress if it were but an inch at a time, so long as, aided by Ephraim’s paddle, he could keep the boat’s nose in the right direction. It was fortunate 173for him that he was young and strong, and that he knew how to husband his strength, for he needed it all in that chill, swiftly flowing stream.
Presently Ephraim hailed him with encouraging words: ‘Ye’re gittin’ thar, Luce. Ye’re gittin’ thar. Air ye tired, bub? Let yerself drift ef ye air. Thar’s not a sign er any wan on the bank above or below. My! I wish I could swim, Luce. Ye wouldn’t be long in thar. Keep it up, sonny. Ye’re gittin’ us thar.’ And so on, with many soothing, senseless words that fell gratefully upon the ear of the almost exhausted Lucius.
The boy lifted his eyes and glanced ahead. The bank was now but thirty feet away; but at the rate he was making it, it was not unlikely that ten minutes more in the water awaited him. He could not bear to think of it, for already his limbs felt numb, and his breath began to fail him. He shut his eyes, set his teeth hard, and struck out blindly. He heard the plashing of Ephraim’s sorry paddle behind him, and the sound was as the noise of thunder in his ears. His strokes became feebler and less frequent, his body swayed more and more to the rush of the current, and for all that he could do, the rope slackened every now and then. Still he kept on, beating down that wild desire to hail Ephraim, who he knew would haul him in at the first call, and slowly struggling towards the goal of all their hopes, the shore. Suddenly his heart gave a great leap, seeming to turn over in his chest and stop dead. A great roaring filled his ears, his head seemed to split asunder with the force of the pain that racked it; a shriek which made but a bubbling in the water about his mouth burst from his throat; and as 174a dead-weight seemed to drag him downwards, he threw his hands above his head.
Something touched them, and he grasped wildly, clawing at the yielding support. Joy! It was a branch. He hung on with all his remaining strength, and in another instant Ephraim had made fast and dragged him into the boat.
For some minutes he lay down there, unable to speak or move, but gradually, as the Grizzly rubbed and chafed him, the power came back to his limbs and the sense to his brain.
‘Thet’s well!’ cried Ephraim, overjoyed. ‘Oh, Luce, it made me sick ter see ye so done. By time! ye did thet pull in grand style. Air ye all right now?’
Lucius nodded.
‘‘Cause ef ye air,’ went on Ephraim, ‘I hev got an idee. Ye see thar, right in front er us, is a cave. It’s not very deep. Fact is, it’s nuthin’ but a hole in the bank, but it’ll serve fer a restin’-place till we kin git some notion er what is goin’ ter happen. Git up thar. I’ll send up the things.’
Standing on the seat of the boat, the hole was just on a level with Luce’s chest, and with a little assistance from Ephraim he easily climbed in.
The Grizzly had passed up the clothes, the rifle, and the two belts, when something arrested his attention. He listened intently for a moment, and then clinging to the floor of the hole, gave a backward kick with his feet that sent the boat spinning out into the stream, and sprang in beside Lucius.
Scarcely had he done so, when a loud voice, not far away, shouted exultantly: ‘I see him, corporal! There he is!’
s this alarming shout rang in their ears, Lucius, forgetting his fatigue, sprang to the mouth of the hole and made as if he would dive again into the water. But Ephraim held him back.
‘Steady, Luce!’ he exclaimed. ‘Lie low! It’s the boat he sees—not us.’
Thus restrained, Lucius withdrew, shivering with cold, to the farthest extremity of the hole, where he proceeded to rub himself down and dress. Ephraim, meanwhile, took his stand at the entrance, and listened intently for any indications of the whereabouts of the enemy.
They were not long in coming, for presently footsteps resounded on the bank above, and a voice eagerly questioned: ‘Where? Where did you see him?’
‘Well, I didn’t exactly see him,’ answered the first voice, much to Ephraim’s relief; ‘but there’s the boat, and I guess he won’t be far off.’
The corporal strained his eyes after the boat through the gathering darkness. ‘I guess it’s empty,’ he said after a long look. ‘However, squad, attention! At one hundred yards, fire a volley! Ready! Present! Fire!’
Bang! crash! splinter! sputter! as some of the balls struck the boat, and the rest fell like hailstones in the water round about her.
Ephraim chuckled softly, and rubbed his hands together in delight. ‘We air jest ez well out er thet, Luce,’ he whispered. ‘I reckon wan or two er them Yanks kin shoot straight.’
‘Load!’ ordered the corporal above. ‘You four,’ addressing his men, ‘follow that boat along the bank, and see if you can discover any signs of life in her. Fire at discretion.—You, Whitson,’ to the man who had first caught sight of the boat, ‘stay here and show me where you think that boat came from. It was not in sight two or three minutes ago.’
Whitson pushed through the trees to the verge of the bank. ‘It seemed to come out of the bushes just here,’ he said, peering over; ‘but I don’t see anything.’
‘You don’t suppose the fellow is going to rise right up and look at you, do you?’ inquired the corporal with fine scorn, adding: ‘Did you hear anything?’
‘Not a sound,’ admitted Whitson.
‘Then it’s pretty certain there was no one in her,’ said the corporal. ‘Most likely she got caught on a snag and turned in here, broke loose, and drifted off again. The general was right—the fellow has either gone up the bank or struck inland. All the same, we’d better search the bank hereabouts.’
But the projecting roof of the hole offered a sure protection to the boys; and though more than once they could distinguish the trampling of the feet of the soldiers above their heads, their hiding-place remained undiscovered, and presently the search was discontinued.
‘It’s no use,’ said the corporal. ‘He is not here. Never was, I should say. We ‘re only wasting time. Let us go back to camp.—Hello! What do you suppose that is?’
That was Ephraim’s cap, which, supported by its own lightness and the water beneath it, hove in sight, floating gracefully down stream, some forty yards away.
Ephraim saw it at the same moment, and softly whispered to Lucius to come and see the fun.
‘It looks like a cap,’ answered Whitson, peering through the gloom. ‘Blamed if I don’t believe it is a cap.’
‘With a head inside it?’ pursued the corporal, also doing his best to see.
‘I can’t say. Shall I try and find out?’
The corporal nodded, and Whitson, throwing forward his rifle, fired. The ball struck the water some feet beyond the cap, which still moved unconcernedly along.
‘Missed!’ cried the corporal, firing his own rifle immediately afterwards. ‘That’s better. That wiped your eye.’
His bullet had struck the cap slantwise on the crown, turning it over, so that it immediately filled and sank to the bottom.
‘My!’ whispered Ephraim gleefully. ‘It’s ez good ez shootin’ et bottles et a fair.’
‘I guess it was only a cap,’ said the corporal, reloading his rifle; ‘but we can’t be sure. We’ll report the 178circumstance, anyhow.—Hello! What did you find?’ This to the four men who had returned.
‘No one in the boat, corporal,’ answered one of them. ‘We followed her down to the bend, and she ran on a shoal and turned over on her side. We could see right into her.’
‘We’ll report that too,’ said the corporal with military brevity.—‘Fall in! Squad, attention! Shoulder arms! Slope arms! Quick march!’
‘Thet’s one more down ter us,’ said Ephraim, with an air of relief, as the noise of footsteps died away in the distance. ‘Thet old boat served our turn well, after all. They won’t worry ter hunt up in this direction any more. Thar’s been a fuss, though, Luce. Did ye hear what he said about the ginrul? My! I reckon them Yanks will be ez lively ez a Juny-bug ter-night, looking fer us and all.’
‘So lively,’ returned Lucius, ‘that I think we may as well give up all hope of placing that packet in General Jackson’s hands. It is enough that we, or rather you, have prevented it from reaching Frémont.’
‘I reckon not,’ said Ephraim thoughtfully. ‘Shields is pretty sure ter try and git a message over ter him now thet this wan’s failed.’
‘Even so, he may change his plans,’ argued Lucius.
‘He han’t the time,’ answered Ephraim with considerable shrewdness. ‘Thet is, ef he’s on the lookout fer an attack to-morrer, and I reckon he is. Of co’se, he may alter ’em hyar and thar, jest ter try and bluff old Stonewall; but in the main I b’leeve he’ll hev ter abide by ’em.’
‘Well, what is it to be, then?’ asked Lucius, yawning. ‘I’m out for the day, so I may as well take a hand in 179the fun. If we’re caught with that despatch about us, we’re as good as done for. However, I suppose we may try for the sheep now that we’ve got the lamb.’
‘But we ain’t goin’ ter let them ketch us,’ said Ephraim. ‘Ye see, we’re a heap better off than we war this mornin’ or this afternoon, for we know the countersign, and ef with thet we don’t manage ter slip past their sentries, it’s a wonder. All the same, though,’ he went on, ‘we may ez well take a couple er hours’ rest. I’m about done, I own up ter thet, and I should say thet you wouldn’t be the worse fer it.’
‘Considering that I had four hours’ sleep this afternoon, thanks to you,’ answered Lucius, ‘I’m not so bad. I could eat something, though; so if you’ll produce the ham, we’ll lay the table.’
Ephraim laughed, and opening his coat, extracted the wedge of ham which he had carried there since the morning, and which, whatever it might have been at first, did not look very inviting now. However, hunger is the best sauce, and nearly dark as it was, the dishevelled appearance of the ham did not count against it; so between it and the biscuits the two boys made a very hearty meal, chatting merrily all the while, as if they had not a care in the world.
‘Now,’ said Lucius, when they had finished, ‘I feel as fresh as a daisy. You lie down and sleep for the first hour, and I’ll keep watch.’
‘Air ye shore ye kin hold out?’ asked Ephraim, who did indeed feel terribly sleepy.
‘Certain. Lie down, old Grizzly. I’ll wake you when I think the hour is up.’
Ephraim took off his coat, and making a pillow of it, went to sleep almost instantly, so worn out was 180he; while Lucius, going to the mouth of the cave, sat down and looked over the river into the night.
It was almost dark, for the sky had clouded over, and every now and then a few drops of rain fell, but the soft light of the summer night prevailed to some extent, and Lucius, who could see the outlines of the steep heights across the river, fell to picturing the battle which had been waged beyond them that day, and wondering which side had gained the victory. He lost himself in his musings for a quarter of an hour, and then fumbled mechanically for his watch. ‘I wonder if the hour is up,’ he said to himself; ‘I’m beginning to feel drowsy now. Oh, I forgot. I left it at home.’
The word gave his thoughts a new turn, and in fancy he saw his mother grieving over his absence, and despairing of ever seeing him again. The idea distressed him, and presently conscience began to add her stings, and strive as he would to excuse his disobedience, his mood grew gloomier and gloomier. ‘I hate the dark,’ he muttered; ‘it always makes me feel so lonesome. Surely the hour must be up.’
As a matter of fact, he had kept watch but for twenty-minutes, but those who have tried it know how slowly the minutes drag themselves along in the dark, when the sense of time is, as it were, abolished, and the attention, with nothing else to attract it, is firmly fixed on the hours, whose wings seem to have been clipped for the occasion. It is the watched pot that never boils.
At last the lonesome feeling overcame Lucius to such an extent that he could bear it no longer; so rising to his feet, he stole softly across the cave and 181sat down beside the snoring Grizzly, for company, as he expressed it to himself. Sitting there in the deeper darkness, a gentle drowsiness fell upon him. He made one or two not very vigorous efforts to shake it off, and then, yielding to its delicious influence, sank into a refreshing sleep.
Scarcely a moment later, as it seemed to him, he was awakened. A hand was laid upon his shoulder, and another pressed lightly over his mouth.
‘Hush, Luce,’ whispered Ephraim’s voice close to his ear. ‘Git up softly. It’s time we war out er this. They’re huntin’ fer us.’
‘Where?’ whispered Lucius back.
‘Thar’s a boat comin’ down the river. I jest caught sight er the flash of a lantern. They’re searchin’ the banks. Come, quick!’
They groped about in the dark until they found the rifle and their belts, which they put on, and stole to the mouth of the cave. Far up the river they saw a little twinkling light, which, as they watched it, grew slowly larger. Very slowly, for the search was a careful one, and the hunters were taking their time.
‘What a good thing you saw it!’ said Lucius in a low voice. ‘They might have walked right in upon us if you hadn’t. Oh, Grizzly,’ he added in a tone of deep self-reproach, ‘I went to sleep without waking you!’
‘Ye rolled over on me wanst ye war asleep, and thet woke me,’ answered Ephraim. ‘I let ye snooze ez long ez I dared. Never mind thet now. Let’s consider how we’re ter git out er this.’
At first sight it appeared to be no easy matter, for the bank shelved away on each side of them, and 182the overhanging roof of the cave projected so far over the floor that it was impossible to reach it, while to attempt to leap for it in the darkness would infallibly result in a ducking, if nothing worse, in the river.
‘Ef we on’y had a light,’ muttered Ephraim.
‘I have,’ said Lucius. ‘There are some matches in the pocket of these trousers.’
‘Ah, but we dassn’t show it,’ returned Ephraim. ‘We must think out some uther way.’
‘Could we not just drop into the stream?’ suggested Lucius. ‘It’s so close to the bank, we could not fail to reach it.’
‘We’ll do thet if the wust comes ter the wust,’ replied Ephraim; ‘but not ef thar’s enny uther line; fer we might git separated in the dark, and besides, we don’t know the depth.’
‘Be quick and think of something, then,’ said Lucius. ‘They are coming nearer.’
Ephraim was lying down at the mouth of the cave, leaning out as far as he could without overbalancing himself, and feeling along the face of the rock in all directions for a ledge. At last he uttered a low grunt of satisfaction.
‘What is it?’ asked Lucius.
‘The face of the rock jest underneath us is rough and projecktin’,’ answered Ephraim. ‘I b’leeve we could work along it. Anyway, I’m goin’ ter try. Ketch hold er the gun.’
Lucius felt for the rifle with which Ephraim had been making investigations, and took charge of it, while the Grizzly placed his hands upon the ledge formed by the floor of the cave, and cautiously swung himself over.
With dangling legs he explored the rocky wall until his feet struck the projection he thought he had felt, and resting them there, began to worm his way along. When he had reached the extreme angle of the cave, he stopped, and, clinging with one arm, thrust out the other to continue his explorations. It met the stout bough of a tree overhanging the river. Ephraim pulled with all his might. It held, and he determined to risk it. Letting go his hold of the ledge, he threw all his weight upon the bough, grasping it with his disengaged hand as he swung off into space. The bough bent beneath his weight, and his feet dipped into the river as he hung, but he struggled blindly on, and in another moment felt the firm earth under him as he struck the shelving bank.
‘Bullee!’ he said, as with an effort he regained his balance.—‘Luce! Air ye thar?’
‘Yes,’ answered Lucius. ‘Have you managed it?’
‘You bet,’ returned Ephraim cheerfully. ‘All ye hev ter do is ter hang on ter the ledge and feel with yer feet till you kin git a hold. Then work yerse’f along till ye come ter the end of the hold and grab fer a branch. Hang on ter thet, and ye’ll be safe.’
‘But the gun,’ said Lucius. ‘Shall I leave it behind?’
‘By time, no!’ exclaimed Ephraim. ‘It’s all we’ve got, and we don’t know when we may want it. Hyar, I’ll come back fer it, and ye kin pass it along.’
He felt for the friendly bough, and presuming that he had found it, threw his weight upon it. Instantly it cracked across, and down he went into the water with a great splash. Fortunately he fell close under 184the bank, and wildly grasping, caught a clump of bushes and dragged himself out.
‘It’s all right, Luce,’ he called up to the boy, who was listening anxiously. ‘I must hev caught the wrong one. I’m on’y wet about the legs.’
‘It’s all wrong,’ replied Lucius under his breath; ‘those fellows have heard the splash: I’m sure of it by the way the lantern is being moved about.’
‘Half a breath,’ said Ephraim. ‘We won’t leave the gun ef we kin help it. I’ll hev anuther try.’
He went to work again more cautiously, and this time got hold of the right bough.
‘Send her along, Luce,’ he said. ‘Careful now. We don’t want her goin’ orf like the first wan.’
Lucius cautiously extended the gun, which, after one or two ineffectual attempts, Ephraim caught and landed safely. For an active boy like Lucius the rest was easy, and in a very short time he joined the Grizzly on the bank.
‘Which way now?’ inquired Lucius, when once they had attained the level ground above.
‘Oh, up the river,’ answered Ephraim. ‘We must keep our faces towards old Stonewall’s camp. We’re all right now, I reckon, with these uniforms and the countersign. It’s lucky we’ve got thet.’
Alas, poor Ephraim! He did not know of General Shields’s order, nor how anxiously his arrival was expected by every sentry along the line.
‘I wonder what time it is,’ said Lucius in the low tones they had learned of necessity to adopt.
‘It orter be about nine o’clock,’ answered Ephraim; ‘but we’ve no way of knowin’. Thar’s a moon, too, about midnight, I’m sorry ter say; but p’raps the clouds won’t let her through. I’m fond er the moon; but jest this wan night I’d do without her and willin’.’
‘It won’t be as dark outside this belt of trees as it is here,’ said Lucius, as they moved along.
‘All the wuss fer us,’ said Ephraim; ’fer outside ’em we must go. This belt is shore ter be full er sentries all along the river line. We must work our way down ter them fields we crossed this afternoon, and grub along through the ditch. That’ll be——Hush! Some one’s comin’. Lie down.’
He sank noiselessly to the ground among the underbrush as stealthy footsteps were heard approaching. Lucius followed his example, and the two lay side by side, scarcely daring to breathe.
General Shields had left nothing undone to recover his all important despatch, and the search was being vigorously prosecuted in every direction. A couple of boats had been procured, one being sent up and the other down the river, while, at the same time, land parties patrolled the bank, so that the fugitive, if discovered, would be caught, as it were, between two fires. Such a fate would have been inevitable for the boys, had not the vigilance of the Grizzly averted it, and Lucius blushed in the darkness as a pang of shame shot through him at the thought of the danger to which his self-indulgence in going to sleep upon his post had exposed them. He burned with affection at the recollection of Ephraim’s quiet self-abnegation in calmly accepting the inevitable and rising to take a double share of watch, and roundly resolved that when the next time of trial came he should not be found wanting. As it was, their position was precarious enough, for the footsteps drew nearer, and their eyes could catch the gleams of a lantern as it swung to and fro, while up from the river came the soft splashing of oars, dipped gently by careful rowers.
Nearer and nearer came the lantern, and now by its light the anxious watchers could distinguish dimly the outlines of half a dozen soldiers, who stealthily followed their guide. Now and again a beam of the lantern light flashed upwards and was reflected back from the fixed bayonets of the party, and an uncomfortable thrill passed through Lucius as he wondered how it would feel to be skewered to the ground like a beetle with a pin stuck through it. He was rather fond of collecting things, and for the first time in his thoughtless existence he realised what must be the feelings of the ‘bugs,’ as he called them, which he was in the habit of treating so unceremoniously. However, he was quite content to realise it in imagination, and having no desire to experience the sensation in actual fact, kept his place as immovably as a statue thrown to the ground.
The search party was almost abreast of them now, keeping pace with the men in the boat, and the two lanterns, one flashing upwards, and the other downwards, made a pool of light which came uncomfortably close.
Another moment of breathless suspense and the party had passed by and darkness once more swallowed up the trembling watchers.
But they were not out of danger yet, and Ephraim’s hand stole out and gripped Luce’s shoulder as a soft hail came from the river.
‘Above there!’
‘Here!’ came the muttered reply.
‘This should be about where we heard that splash.’
‘A little farther on, I think.’
‘Forward, then, and keep your eyes open.’
Tramp! tramp! The soft tread was resumed, and Ephraim put his mouth close to Luce’s ear.
‘They’ll find the cave in anuther minnit,’ he whispered, ‘and when they do, we must move off. Thar’s shore ter be a hullaballoo.’
He was right. In a few minutes more another hail arose from the river, this time louder, more imperative, more confident.
‘Above there!’
‘Here!’
‘Halt! Close up towards our light. There’s a hole of some sort here. Maybe he is inside.’
Silence for a little space, and then an exultant shout from the bank.
‘What have you found?’ This from the boat.
‘Nothing in the way of a man. But a broken branch and a sloppy mess all around.’
‘Hold on till we pull under. If he’s in there, we’ll soon have him out.’
‘Mind you don’t get your head blown off.’
This very probable consequence to the first man who should put his head into the mouth of the hole caused a corresponding diminution of enthusiasm, and low mutterings arose from the boat.
‘Private Storks, stand up in the boat and flash the lantern into that hole.—You above there, throw the light down as far as possible, and be ready.’
Great alacrity on the part of those on the bank. Considerable hanging fire on the side of Private Storks.
‘Now then, Storks, look sharp. You ‘re not afraid, are you?’
A muttered disclaimer from the reluctant Storks.
‘Private Flemming,’ in a very angry voice, ‘lift up that lantern and show this fellow Storks what a man is made of.’
A noise of scrambling in the boat, the twinkling of the lantern for an instant through the trees. Then bang! and a roar of laughter, followed by a storm of angry execrations. Private Flemming, by way of showing Private Storks how to be brave, had raised the lantern in one hand, his gun in the other, fired into the hole in order to make safety sure, and incontinently tumbled backwards into the boat to the imminent danger of his trusty comrades.
‘Confound you!’ shouted the officer in charge. ‘Who told you to fire. You’ve given the fellow warning now, if he’s not there. Up with you, some one, and see if this fool has been firing at a blank wall or not.’
The laughter above ceased at the angry command of the officer, but long ere it died away, and under cover of the friendly noise, the two boys, wriggling on their stomachs like a couple of great snakes, had put a good fifty yards between themselves and the men on the bank.
‘By time!’ muttered Ephraim. ‘Thet’s mighty good fun fer them; but it’s jest ez well you and me war out er thar, Luce.’
They rose to their feet, and moving warily, soon passed out of the fringing belt into the open. Then, at Ephraim’s direction, they ran as fast as they could, till a multitude of twinkling fires told them that the Federal troops lay close upon their left hand.
‘Five minnits fer refreshments,’ whispered Ephraim, ‘and then the next act’ll begin. See hyar, Luce, it’s all Virginny ter a sour apple thet they’ve got a chain er sentries right across from the camp to the river-side. We must dodge ’em. Ef wanst we kin git ter the ditch, we’ll be safe—so fur.’
They stole back just inside the belt of trees, and moved on, a step or two at a time. Sure enough, presently they could hear the measured tread of a sentry as he paced backwards and forwards upon his short beat.
‘It won’t do to try the countersign just here,’ whispered Lucius. ‘It’s too close to the camp.’
‘No,’ answered Ephraim. ‘We must crawl past him, one at a time. You go first. Ef he sees ye, thar’s this.’ He touched Lucius with the rifle.
Once again Lucius cast himself down flat upon the ground, and progressing by fractions of an inch, approached to within a few feet of the sentry. So close was he as the man passed him, that by stretching out his hand he could have caught him by the leg. But the darkness favoured him, though it was light enough to see ten paces away, and the man walked past unsuspiciously. Before he could turn again, Lucius had writhed beyond his beat and ensconced himself among the trees, where he waited for Ephraim.
The Grizzly had stood with his finger on the trigger, ready to fire if occasion arose; but now judging that 190Lucius must be past the human obstruction, he noiselessly lowered the hammer of his gun and prepared to make the effort on his own account.
It was more difficult for him than for Lucius, encumbered as he was with his rifle; but Fortune favours the bold, and in ten minutes’ time he found himself once more beside his comrade. They waited till the sound of footsteps told them that the sentry’s back was once more turned to them, and then crawled farther away. In this way they passed a second and a third sentinel, and at length the end of their labours presented itself in the shape of the field which they had crossed in the afternoon. They dared not rise, however, for fear of being seen, and a final crawl of nearly a hundred yards had to be accomplished before they found the safe retreat of the ditch.
‘Thet’s well,’ said Ephraim, contentedly placing his back against the side of the ditch and thrusting his long legs out in front of him. By the time we git ter the end er this, we’ll hev got over a right smart piece er the way.—How d’ye feel, Luce?’
‘I’m all right,’ answered Lucius. ‘Have a cracker? I’ve got a few left.’
‘We may ez well eat ’em,’ said the Grizzly, accepting his share and beginning to munch; ’fer it’s pretty sartin thet ef we don’t breakfast in our own camp ter-morrer, we will in the Yanks’. Ef we don’t reach Stonewall ter-night, we never will.’
‘Come on, then,’ urged Lucius. ‘Another mile and a half ought to take us there.’
‘Right!’ said Ephraim, rising to his feet. ‘Wait a minnit, though.’ Something clanked in his hand as he spoke.
191‘What’s that?’ asked Lucius. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Fixin’ my ba’net,’ quoth Ephraim. ‘Ye never know what’ll happen, and it’s best ter be ready. We’ve gone along and come safe through up ter now; but wan er my books says somewhar “the darkest hour’s before the dawn,” and maybe jest ez we think we’re safe the bust’ll come.’
Prophetic words, though Ephraim knew it not. The ditch in which they were had been marked by General Shields as a possible means of exit for any one lurking in the fields, and a thorough search of it had been made. This, of course, led to no result, as the boys were far away at the time; but the general’s astuteness had not ended there, and a sentry had been placed at the end of the ditch remote from the camp—that is, nearest the Confederate lines, with definite orders to shoot any one issuing out of it if he could not give a good account of himself, and that, even though he wore the Federal uniform.
Sharp orders these, and liable to make any Federal skulker realise that there were other paths beside those of glory which led to the grave. Moreover, there was but slender chance that they would be disregarded, for the sentry chosen for this special duty was a grizzled sergeant, who had smelt powder in the Mexican campaign, and by reason of years of training on the frontier, was up to every dodge of those masters of deceptive strategy, the redskins. Small hope, then, that honest Ephraim, with his simple cunning, would, notwithstanding his victory over the green Captain Hopkins, be able to beat to windward of so astute a warrior as Sergeant Mason. 192The darkest hour which Ephraim had hinted at was at hand. And yet not quite the darkest.
The ditch down which the boys were travelling intersected, as has been said, two fields—that on the right, some two hundred yards from the river; that on the left, about four hundred from the wood. These two spaces on a line with Sergeant Mason were destitute of sentries, though four hundred yards behind the sergeant, who stood expectant, but unconscious of the approach of his prey, ran a double line of pickets, right across from river to mountain. These were the outposts, and kept their watch almost cheek by jowl with Jackson’s men, not half a mile beyond. Thus the outlet of the ditch had but this solitary defender, but in placing Sergeant Mason there, General Shields had shown his wisdom; and, moreover, the alarm of the sergeant’s rifle, should he see fit to discharge it, would within five minutes bring him support from a dozen different points.
Sergeant Mason stood with his rifle resting easily in the hollow of his right arm, more in the attitude of an expert backwoodsman than in that of a sentry on guard, but his keen eyes glanced continually right and left over the dim, yet not absolutely dark, meadows, or straight ahead into the black funnel that intersected them. He had been there three long hours already, and was beginning to feel a little out of temper. And when Sergeant Mason was out of temper, it boded ill for whoever should cross his path at that inauspicious season.
Suddenly the sergeant started slightly. His quick ears, intently strained, had caught a faint sound, as of some one moving in the ditch. His ill-humour vanished, down came his rifle with its sharp bayonet to the charge, and he was at once the veteran soldier, used to war’s alarms, and ready for any emergency.
He leaned forward striving to pierce the gloom of the ditch; but he could see nothing. Only once again that soft rustling sound, as of the wind gently blowing over reeds. Then it ceased.
Ceased so suddenly that the sergeant’s suspicions were at once redoubled. Evidently it was not the wind. But Mason was too old a hand to act rashly, so he did not challenge, for fear of scaring his game, but waited patiently for the end.
Again the rustling. This time surely a little louder, a little nearer. The sergeant’s heavy moustache bristled with anticipation, and his lips parted in a cruel smile, as he tightly grasped his rifle.
Not a sound he made as he stood there, silent and stiff as if carved out of ebony. But he had been seen for all that, and even now the boys, crouching low in the ditch, were holding a whispered consultation.
‘I think thet he hes heard us, Luce,’ said Ephraim. ‘Listen ter me and do jest ez I tell ye. Crawl out er the ditch on yer left and make a wide leg ter git behind him. Ez soon ez ye start, I’ll up an’ face him so ez ter cover any noise ye make. Wait fer me until I git past him—and I will git past him one way or anuther—and when ye hear me run, foller ez hard ez ye kin.’
The first part of this well-laid plan was carried out to the letter; but as to the second—ah! there Ephraim had reckoned without Sergeant Mason.
Lucius made off as he had been told to do, for after what he had seen, his faith in Ephraim’s strategic powers was absolutely unbounded, and as soon as he was clear of the ditch, the Grizzly, with much rustling of his feet and a great outward show of confidence, advanced towards the outlet of the ditch.
From his superior height upon the slight embankment Sergeant Mason looked down and smiled grimly. He never suspected the presence of Lucius, wriggling along to attain a point behind him. His whole mind was intent on the solitary figure, advancing towards him.
‘Halt! Who comes there?’ he challenged, and Ephraim brought up standing, halted within six paces of the bayonet’s point.
‘Friend!’ he answered laconically.
‘What’s your business?’ demanded Mason, wishful to make sure of his ground and his man.
‘Speshul,’ returned Ephraim, also feeling his way.
‘That so? What mought be the natur of it? I’m hyar tew find out, yew know.’
‘Out after a man wearin’ a Federal uniform, and supposed ter be a rebel spy. Kin I pass?’
‘I guess so. If yew have the countersign.’
Alas, poor Grizzly, the fighter of redskins is going to be too much for you! Ephraim advanced a pace or two.
‘Halt!’ said the sergeant again. ‘Is that yewr idee of giving the countersign?’
‘Shenandoah!’ replied Ephraim boldly, and never before had been so near death as at that minute.
Had Sergeant Mason, smiling grimly behind his thick moustache, obeyed orders strictly, he would have fired then and there, for the word was not Shenandoah, and Ephraim’s account of himself had not been good; 195but two reasons restrained Mason. If the man turned out to be a brother Federal, he did not wish to have his blood upon his hands, skulker though he might be in view of the morrow’s expected fight; and, secondly, if the man were proved to be the rebel spy, Mason considered that a capture would redound more to his credit than an execution.
Therefore Sergeant Mason held his hand, and bringing his rifle up to the port, said briefly: ‘Pass, friend!’
On came Ephraim, his shambling gait and loose-jointed frame contrasting ridiculously with the square, well-knit, soldierly figure in front of him; but just as he had set one foot on the bank to leap out of the ditch, being so far at a disadvantage, the sergeant suddenly altered his position, and bringing his rifle to the low guard, said sharply: ‘Surrender, my man. You’re my prisoner.’
On the lookout for surprises, Ephraim’s heart yet seemed to leap into his mouth at this; but he was quick to act. Jumping back from the steel that almost touched his neck, he grasped his own rifle with one hand by the breech and with the other by the barrel, and before the sergeant could realise his intention, rushed madly at him up the bank.
Their bayonets met with a clash; but so furious was the assault, and so utterly unexpected, that even Sergeant Mason, man of iron though he was, gave back before it, and Ephraim springing from the ditch, found himself, so far at least as the ground went, at an equal advantage with his foe.
For an instant they stood fronting each other, their bayonets crossed, and only the space of their rifles between them.
The sergeant breathed hard and drew back the hammer of his gun. ‘Surrender!’ he said, ‘or you’re a dead man.’
Ephraim heard the click, and his answer was another rush. Swift as thought he turned his wrist, and by sheer force tossed the barrel of the sergeant’s rifle in the air, just as the latter’s finger touched the trigger.
Bang! The bullet soared away high over the tops of the trees in the wood, and once more the sergeant recoiled before his impetuous antagonist. He began to wish that he had fired first and made inquiries afterwards.
‘Surrender, you fool!’ he hissed through his clenched teeth; ‘that shot will bring a hundred men down upon you.’
For answer, Ephraim cocked his own rifle and fired. There was a slight fizzle as the cap snapped, but no report. The various uses to which the rifle had been put that day had not improved its quality as a ‘shooting-iron,’ and the powder was thoroughly wet.
The rifles were the old-fashioned, muzzle-loading pattern. There was no time to reload, and like lightning Ephraim rushed forward to renew the attack.
Then began a battle royal. Sergeant Mason was a strong man, and knew the use of his weapon; but the Grizzly was a living instance of the truth of the saying, that a man who knows nothing of rule will very often puzzle an expert. So it was now, as Ephraim, fired with unaccustomed fury, lunged and thrust, parried and recovered, or swept his bayonet in narrowing circles round his antagonist’s head, to the utter mystification of Mason, accustomed to the one, two, three of the regulations.
Clink! clank! rattle! crash! The sharp steel met and parted, parted and met again. The fighters could but just distinguish each other in the gloom, even as they stood now with bayonets locked, breathing hard in anticipation of the next rally.
Clank! The sergeant disengaged, and lunged straight and swiftly out. The bayonet passed under the Grizzly’s left arm; but he brushed it aside with a wild swirl of his rifle, and thrust in return so close to the sergeant’s heart, that but half an inch further would have settled the question for good and all.
Mason sprang backwards just in time, now hotly pressed by the furious Grizzly. Here was a foeman of a temper he had not bargained for when he made that light arrest.
‘Help!’ he roared at the top of his voice. ‘A spy! a spy! Over hyar by the ditch.’
Clank! clank! clink! clink! Fierce thrust and sudden parry. Another fiery rally. This time the sergeant felt the wind of Ephraim’s bayonet past his neck, and a hot spurt of breath upon his face, as the Grizzly, almost overbalanced by his frenzied rush, stumbled forward.
With a mighty effort he recovered his footing. Clink! clank! Down swept Mason’s glittering steel. Another lock. A rapid disengagement; and, ere Ephraim could retreat, the long blade lunged straight at his face.
The Grizzly dodged; but the sharp point, driven by the strong, angry arm behind it, found its way through his coat, and ploughed up the muscles of his shoulder. The pain drove him wild, and with a roar of rage he 198ran in upon his foe, careless of his own exposure, and raising his long rifle by the barrel, brought it smashing down upon the bare, defenceless head.
Under that frightful stroke Sergeant Mason dropped his weapon, reeled from side to side like a drunken man, and dropped to earth as one dead.
hile this frightful battle raged, Lucius stood some little distance off, in an agony of apprehension for the safety of his friend. At the first clank of the meeting steel he had risen to his feet, and strained his eager eyes to see what was about to happen; but, even though he drew a little nearer, he could distinguish nothing clearly. Only in the dusk a pair of tall forms dashed from right to left, or bounded from side to side, meeting, recoiling, and meeting again. But if he could not see, he could hear; and at each jarring clank of the clashing bayonets his heart leaped, and his hair rose on his head, for he could not believe that Ephraim would win the fight. Oh for a gun! he thought, as he ran wildly backwards and forwards, groping along the ground, in the hope that he might come upon some straggler’s discarded piece. All at once he heard shouts and the noise of rushing footsteps. From the river bank, from the woods, from the pickets behind him—from every direction—men were hastening to the scene of the conflict. Then that furious cry from 200the Grizzly, and the dull crash as the sergeant fell under his powerful stroke. Finally silence for a little space around the combatants.
Lucius did not know which had fallen: he could just see that one was down—that was all—and his fears told him that it must be Grizzly. A dull, apathetic feeling stole over him. He did not try to move. He knew that in a few minutes more he must be a prisoner, and he did not care. A mournful voice seemed to chant in his ears, slow and solemn as a dirge, ‘The Grizzly is dead! the Grizzly is dead!’ And all concern for himself vanished in the presence of this overwhelming sorrow.
Then, as he stood, the sound of the well-known voice thrilled him like an electric shock, jarring his whole frame with the one pregnant monosyllable, ‘Run!’ And, without stopping to question or to reason, he turned his face and fled. Fled at first madly, unthinkingly, right in the teeth of the advancing enemy. He had no knowledge of Ephraim’s whereabouts—whether he was ahead of him or behind him. He was alive—that was just enough then—and on went Lucius like the wind.
When two people are running at top speed in the same line, but from opposite extremes, it stands to reason that, sooner or later, they will meet. And this is exactly what happened now. They met, Lucius and the leading man of the racing sentinels—met with a crash, like two charging footballers—with the result that both went down in a heap upon the ground.
Lucius was the first to recover himself, and the shock seemed to clear his brain, so that he realised sharply what he was doing in thus throwing himself into the arms of his foes. He was a slow thinker as a rule—or, rather, he seldom troubled himself to think at all; but now his plans were formed upon the instant, such a stimulus is necessity.
Tearing himself free from the man upon the ground, he leaped to his feet, and running a few paces, still towards the advancing crowd, wheeled round suddenly, and with a loud shout of ‘This way! Over here!’ rushed back by the way he had come, only at a much slower pace.
Fortunate it was for him that it was so dark. Guided by his voice, the soldiers hurried after him, surrounded him, noted him running in their midst in the same direction as themselves, and—passed him by.
Still Lucius held on, slowing down at every stride, till the last man of the supports, puffing and blowing, shot ahead of him, and then he turned in his tracks once more, and sped like a deer towards the Confederate lines.
He took a diagonal path, making by instinct for the corner of the wood, which more than once that day had been their means of salvation, and reaching it after a tearing run of nearly a mile, plunged just inside its border and flung himself face downwards to recover his wind.
All at once, as he lay, a sharp pang shot through him. The Grizzly! Where was he? Was he, too, running for his life in the open? Had he reached the wood? Or, bitter thought, had he been captured after all? The bare possibility stung Lucius into action, and he leaped again to his feet, glaring wildly round him in the dark.
What would they do with him if he were taken? 202Would they shoot him then and there? Or would they take him back to the camp, and after a mere formality of a trial, hang him like a dog? Lucius strained his ears until they pained him, listening for the fatal shot. But he heard nothing. ‘Oh, Grizzly,’ he thought bitterly, ‘if you are taken, if you are shot, and I have run away and left you to your fate!’
He was hardly fair to himself in his sharp self-upbraiding. To run had been the Grizzly’s own command, and he had obeyed implicitly. He began to take a little comfort. Perhaps they had only missed one another in the dark. Perhaps the Grizzly was even now in safety, waiting opportunity to make a dash for the Confederate lines. He would go on. Then again the cruel thought, ‘What if he be a captive while I am free?’ ‘Go on and save yourself, at all events,’ whispered self-preservation. ‘It is what he himself would have you do.’
‘And just because it is what he would have me do,’ answered the spirit of manliness in the boy’s breast, ‘I will not do it. I will go back and find him, if I have to march right into the Federal camp.’
He was almost beside himself with pain and grief, but the one idea took possession of him, and in his brain the words repeated themselves over and over again: ‘Go back and find him! Go back and find him!’
‘Oh, if I had but a gun!’ he sighed, ‘I would make somebody pay for this.’
His hands struck against his cartridge belt. ‘Pah!’ he said in disgust, opening the pouch. ‘What is the use of you without a gun?’ Then a gasp of astonishment escaped him. His fingers, idly groping in the 203pouch, had encountered a piece of folded paper—two pieces.
For a moment he could not understand it, and then the meaning flashed across him, and everything became clear. In the dark of the cave he had picked up and assumed Ephraim’s belt instead of his own. The papers were General Shields’s despatch to General Frémont, and the written order to Colonel Spriggs regarding the escaped prisoners.
Luce’s first feeling was one of joy that, even if the Grizzly were taken, at all events nothing compromising would be found upon him. His second, a wild impulse to fling away the despatch, and rid himself of its dangerous companionship. But something restrained him in the very act, and the thought crossed him: ‘The fate of an army may depend upon that paper, and that army your own. You must carry it to General Jackson.’
Poor Lucius! He was on the horns of a dreadful dilemma. If he were caught with that paper upon him, it would be short shrift, he knew, and few questions asked. Yet if he did not deliver it, the consequences to the Confederates might be fearfully disastrous. And yet again, if he did attempt to carry it through, he must turn his back upon his friend, presuming him to be a prisoner, and after the thoughts of self-preservation in which he had indulged, how could he do that without laying himself open to the charge of grasping an excuse to ensure his own safety by an attempt to reach the Confederate lines?
He wrung his hands together in the extremity of his despair. Which was the right thing to do? Who would help him in this desperate strait?
He leaned against a tree, his head throbbing and his whole mind bewildered in the presence of the most serious problem he had ever had to face. Then once again came to him one of those mysterious, silent promptings, so frequent in the last anguished quarter of an hour. And this time it was as if Ephraim spoke: ‘Do yer duty, Luce, and never mind me.’
‘I will,’ he cried aloud, dashing the tears from his eyes. ‘I will. But I’ll come back and find you afterwards, Grizzly, if I die for it!’
He braced himself up to consider the best means to carry out his dual resolve. He knew very well that, no matter how many men might have been detached to the aid of the sentry at the ditch, the Federal outposts would still remain in their place, with beyond them the last line of sentinels on the side of Jackson’s army. To reach his goal he must first pass this obstacle, and he realised that in the ferment raised by the present crisis, the time for further stratagem had passed, and that his only hope lay in making a rush for it.
A sense of uneasiness was everywhere, and the outposts were especially alert. Not only had the rumour spread of the presence in camp and subsequent escape therefrom of a supposed rebel spy, but there was a pretty well defined feeling that the morrow would not pass without an attack on the part of Jackson, though exactly how or where the blow would be delivered, no man could say. Therefore the outposts kept even stricter watch than usual, ready at the first sign of the advance of the enemy to give the alarm and fall back upon the camp, where, on that night, the Federal soldiers lay on their arms.
The uneasy feeling was justified by what was happening in the Confederate camp. The night had descended upon another Federal repulse. The veteran Ewell had hurled back Frémont at Cross Keys, and driven him from the field after a long and desperate conflict. Then, when the darkness put a stop to the operations, Jackson recalled the troops of Ewell, and leaving a strong rearguard in front of Frémont, returned to Port Republic. Here he hastily constructed a foot-bridge, by means of wagons placed end to end, over the south fork of the Shenandoah, and gave orders that at dawn his infantry were to cross and try conclusions with Shields at Lewiston. He then retired to snatch a few hours of well-earned repose. Shields, meanwhile, had managed to get a second despatch conveyed to Frémont, laying before him a plan of operations which differed little from those set forth in the lost despatch; for as Ephraim had shrewdly surmised, there was but scant time to alter the disposition of an entire army; and, moreover, Shields, sanguine to the last, could not bring himself to believe that, from a camp so strongly guarded, the spy had really been able to make good his escape. He was convinced that if accident did not deliver the bold rebel into his hands during the night, his capture would certainly be accomplished in the morning. That there were two people concerned in this escapade he had never fully realised, and that the despatch had passed from one hand to another, he never even dreamed.
Fully alive to the dangers of the situation, Lucius moved cautiously along, feeling the edge of the wood lest he should lose himself in its gloomy depths, and every moment drawing nearer to the Federal outposts. A white glow on the hill-tops warned him that the moon was rising, and he prayed earnestly that the clouds which were driving across the sky would form up and shut behind them the silver light which would make the difficulties of his perilous advance so much greater.
Suddenly he pulled up short. Not far away he heard a sound, a suppressed cough. There it was again, its owner evidently doing his best to stifle it. Lucius surmised clearly enough from whom the sound proceeded. It was one of the communicating sentries between the outposts and their reserves. He felt rather than heard that the man was walking in his direction, and with the painful thought troubling him, ‘What if I were to cough or sneeze?’ drew close behind a tree to wait till he had passed by. Standing there, he heard another sound—the measured tramp of feet, as if a body of men were stealthily approaching him. The sentry heard it too, for he halted a few paces from Lucius and prepared to act.
‘Halt!’ he challenged in a guarded voice, at the same time bringing his rifle to the charge. ‘Who comes there?’
‘Patrol!’ was the reply, also given in an undertone.
‘Stand, patrol! Advance one and give the countersign!’
Some one stepped forward to the point of the sentry’s bayonet, and answered in a tone so low as to be almost a whisper: ‘Winchester!’
‘So,’ thought Lucius, who caught the word, ‘the countersign has been changed. That is how Grizzly 207came to be stopped at the ditch. Well, it won’t do me any good, for I dare not try it on now.’
‘Pass, patrol! All’s well!’ said the sentry, still keeping his rifle at the charge.
The patrol moved on, the officer in charge turning back to inquire: ‘Any sign of the spy?’
‘No, sir,’ replied the sentry, and Luce’s heart thrilled with joy at the word.
Presently the sentry resumed his beat, and Lucius slipped past and continued his heedful advance. The most difficult part of his work lay before him, for the outposts were in strength, and their advanced sentries had also to be negotiated. Still he thought that, once past the outposts, he would be able to show the sentinels a clean pair of heels. But there was one thing on which he had not reckoned, and presently he came upon a sight which took his breath away. A line of light lay right across his path—the bivouac fires of the pickets.
They extended as far as he could see on either hand, and the boy’s heart sank within him as he wondered how he should pass across that line of radiant light without being discovered. However, on closer investigation, he saw to his intense relief that, though the fires were not very far apart, yet between each was a dark space, and through one of these he trusted to be able to slip. Moreover, he noted that, while most of the men were lying down, some few were standing up or walking about, and so was led to hope that his upright figure, if observed at all, would not attract attention.
There was no help for it—it had to be done; so drawing a long breath he set his teeth hard, and making 208carefully for the dark path between two of the fires, advanced with firm and deliberate step.
Some one spoke to him as he came on. He did not hear the question, but he was conscious of returning an answer of some sort, though a moment afterwards he could not have told what he had said.
He reached the coveted path between the two fires, and again a soldier who was reclining by one of them hailed him.
‘That yew, Dick?’ asked the man. ‘Why can’t yew keep still? I believe yew’re a funk.’
Lucius spared a thought to bless the restless Dick, and strode on.
‘Dick,’ said the man again, ‘did yew hear that?—Why, Dick! Look at him! By’——
For Lucius had passed beyond the line, and casting all idea of further concealment to the winds, leaped forward like a startled hare.
In a moment all was bustle and confusion. The pickets sprang to arms, orders were shouted in rapid succession, and twenty men darted upon the track of the fugitive, while the advance sentries, hearing the commotion, stopped on their beat, eagerly waiting the explanation of the unusual disturbance, which, so far as they were concerned, seemed to come from the wrong quarter.
The very energy of the pursuit saved Lucius; for sentries, pursuers, and pursued were all mixed up in one inextricable tangle in the darkness, and the noise the soldiers made in following him of itself prevented them from getting any clear idea of his whereabouts.
On he dashed. Shots were fired here and there at 209random; but if any one was hit it was not Lucius, and in less than five minutes he plumped into the middle of a Confederate picket, under arms, and ready for an affair of outposts, if that were what the noise presaged.
‘I surrender! I surrender!’ panted Lucius. ‘Take me prisoner! Quick!’
‘I reckon ef thet’s what ye’ve come fer, ye’ve got yer way,’ said a Confederate soldier gruffly, at the same time seizing him by the arm. ‘Air thar enny more er you uns on the road?’
‘No,’ gasped Lucius; ‘there’s only me. Take me to the General. Quick! Oh, do be quick!’
‘Take ye to the Ginrul! Thet’s good! Ho! ho!’ The men around broke into loud laughter; but an officer, coming up at that moment, sternly ordered silence, and raising a lantern to look at Lucius, demanded who he was, and what he meant by running into them like that.
‘I want to see the General,’ repeated Lucius, who just then could think of nothing else to say.
‘State your business to me,’ said the officer. ‘I will be the judge as to whether it is of sufficient importance to justify the granting of your request. Are you a deserter from the enemy? Do you bring news of his movements?’
‘No—yes,’ replied Lucius hurriedly. ‘I mean I am not a deserter, but I bring important news,’
‘If you are not a deserter, what do you mean by wearing that uniform? Explain yourself,’
‘Captain,’ answered Lucius earnestly, ‘believe me, I am telling the truth. I found this uniform, and put it on to disguise myself. I have a despatch from General 210Shields to General Frémont, and I will give it to the General, if you will take me to him.’
‘Give it to me,’ urged the captain, holding out his hand. Lucius hesitated. If he gave up the despatch and then asked leave to return, the captain would become suspicious of a trick, and perhaps detain him there till the rounds passed by, and so valuable time would be lost. He felt that his only resource lay in an appeal to some one in authority who would grant him the required permission, and the memory of Jackson’s face at Staunton on that last Sunday suggested that the appeal should be made to him, and him alone. ‘He will understand me,’ thought Lucius; ‘these other fellows will not.’ Aloud he said: ‘Captain, I’ve gone through a good deal—in fact, I’ve risked my life—to bring that despatch here, and I beseech you to let me give it to the General with my own hands. More depends upon it than you think.’
The captain considered. The earnest pleading moved him. ‘Who are you?’ he asked at length.
‘I belong to Staunton,’ answered Lucius. ‘My fa——I have a relative in this army.’
‘Who may that be?’ inquired the captain, for it was no uncommon thing for different members of a family to be fighting on opposite sides of the line.
‘I’d rather not say,’ answered Lucius. ‘Oh, captain, let me go. I am sure that the General will tell you you have done right if you do.’
‘Corporal,’ said the captain, after another moment’s reflection, ‘take this fellow to headquarters. Report the affair to the adjutant, and hear what he has to say.’
Lucius thanked him gratefully, and presently started for the village between two men, the corporal leading the way.
‘Hi!’ shouted the captain after him. ‘Was there any sign of movement on the part of the enemy when you left?’
‘No,’ answered Lucius; ‘all was quiet. It was me they were after.’
To all the numerous questions of the corporal, as they marched along, he maintained a rigid silence, and at last they reached the house where General Jackson had taken up his quarters for the night.
Leaving Lucius in charge of the two soldiers, the corporal slipped past the sentry and rapped up the adjutant-general, who occupied a room in the same house, and who at once rose and came down-stairs on hearing what was the matter.
To him Lucius repeated his story, winding up with a supplication that he might be allowed to give his message to the General himself.
‘Corporal, remain on guard here.—You, fellow, follow me,’ said the adjutant.
The corporal saluted, and Lucius, his heart thumping with excitement, followed his guide upstairs.
The adjutant paused at a door and knocked softly. As there was no reply, he turned the handle, and entered the room with Lucius at his heels.
A candle was burning on a table by the window, and by its light Lucius discerned the figure of an officer, fully dressed, even to his sword and jack-boots, lying face downwards across the bed. He stirred uneasily at the noise, turned over, and then sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. It was General Jackson.
‘Pendleton!’ he exclaimed, starting from the bed and standing erect upon the floor. ‘You! What is the matter?’
‘All is quiet, General; and I would not have ventured to disturb you; but this fellow here avers that he brings important news of the enemy, which he will communicate to no one but you. So far as I can judge, he is telling the truth, so I brought him up.’
‘What is your news?’ asked Jackson quietly of Lucius.
Lucius glanced at the adjutant. It was possible that if he heard the story he might throw his influence into the scale against a return to the Federal camp. It would be easier, he thought, to manage General Jackson alone. So he answered: ‘I would rather speak to you alone, General.’
‘Leave us, Pendleton,’ said the General.
‘But, sir,’ protested the adjutant, ‘I—he’——He made a step forward and ran his hands all over Lucius to see if by any chance he carried hidden weapons. Finding none, he saluted and withdrew.
Jackson smiled at his subordinate’s excess of caution, and turning to Lucius, addressed him again with: ‘Now then, my man, what is your news? Out with it.’
Lucius drew a breath of relief. The General did not recognise him, which was scarcely wonderful, for they had met but once, and then Lucius had presented a very different appearance.
He made no verbal answer, but drawing the soiled and crumpled despatch from his pouch, handed it silently to the General. Equally in silence Jackson received the package, and withdrawing to the table, sat down to examine it. No sooner had he read the superscription than he glanced sharply round at Lucius, but restraining himself, broke open the envelope and began to peruse the contents. He smiled as he read on, for the plans of Shields were so exactly what he had hoped and even prognosticated they would be. He did not look up again, though, until he had finished his scrutiny of the document. Then he rose, and holding the paper in one hand, laid the fore-finger of the other upon it, and fixing his keen blue eyes upon Lucius as if he would read his very heart, asked sharply: ‘How did you come by this?’
Lucius was prepared for the question. While the General had been busied with the despatch, he had been debating with himself how to explain his position. He was sharp enough to know that if once his identity with Lucius Markham were revealed, all hope of being able to rejoin Ephraim would be at an end. His one chance lay in allowing the general to suppose him an ordinary citizen of the valley. He concluded, therefore, that while suppressing his name, his best and wisest course would be to furnish a plain and simple statement of facts. So he answered at once:
‘I will tell you, General. Early this morning my companion and myself—both of us live in the valley—were taken prisoners by a number of Federal stragglers. We were roughly handled, but escaped, and concealed ourselves in the wood between this and Lewiston. There we found two dead Federal soldiers, and disguised ourselves in their uniforms. Presently we were seen and forced to march to the attack upon the bridge this morning. When the Yankees ran away, we were obliged to run with them, and once more took refuge in a hut in the wood. While there we overheard a 216conversation of General Shields with a Federal scout, and determined to try and intercept the despatches he carried. We were successful, and tried to get up the river in the spy’s own boat, but as we had no oars, the current carried us down, and we only got ashore after a great deal of trouble. We were getting along all right, when we were challenged. There was a fight in which my companion got the best of the sentry, and then we broke and ran, and lost each other. I had the despatch in my pouch, and came on with it at once. I was nearly caught at the last post.’
Jackson listened in silence to Luce’s explanation, and when he had finished, remarked drily: ‘That sounds a very plausible story; but how am I to know that it is a true one?’
Lucius flushed through the dirt which encrusted his cheeks. He was about to reply in his usual haughty and imperious style, but remembering his assumed character in time, choked back the words and said instead: ‘You have only my word for it, General, of course; but the despatch itself is a proof of what I have told you.’
‘Not at all,’ was the unexpected retort; ‘for even that may not be genuine. The whole thing, including your assumption of the Federal uniform, may be merely a device to impose upon my credulity and lead me into a trap.’
At this Lucius was so completely taken aback that for a moment or two he had nothing to say. Then, as Jackson regarded him with his shrewd, dry smile, he burst out passionately: ‘General, we have risked our lives all along the line to bring you that despatch. One of us is, for all I know, a prisoner, or perhaps dead. We could have got away easily enough by simply stopping in our hiding-place if we had not tried to do you this service. If you don’t believe me, I can’t help it; but I declare upon my honour as a Southerner that I have told you the truth.’
The last words came out with so proud a ring that Stonewall eyed him curiously.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded by way of reply.
‘I live in the valley,’ answered Lucius vaguely. ‘So does my chum.—Oh, sir, sir,’ he broke off wildly, ‘do believe me and let me go! They may be killing him even now.’
Jackson started in astonishment, and took a step forward. ‘You don’t ask me to believe,’ he said, ‘that you contemplate returning to the Federal lines to look for him?’
‘I do, I do!’ cried Lucius. ‘Why should I not? Twice or thrice already to-day he would have given his life to save mine. How can I desert him now? It would be too base.’
The utter simplicity of the thing carried its own conviction with it. No professional trickster would delude himself into the belief that, coming from the Federal lines, he would be at once allowed to return there on the strength of his own story. The genuine emotion of the young man, as he supposed him to be, went straight to Jackson’s warm heart.
‘Do not distress yourself, my young friend,’ he said kindly; ‘I believe you. But as regards your comrade, what do you imagine you can effect by going back?’
‘This,’ answered Lucius, as the recollection of the hut in the forest came to him like an inspiration: ‘if he has not been taken, and has not been able to break through their line, I know where he will go to look for me. I will go there. I can find out that way whether he is dead or a prisoner, or alive and free.’
‘No,’ answered Jackson; ‘for he might reach our lines just while you were looking for him. You could do no good, and for your own sake, if for no other reason, I cannot allow you to return. I do not suspect your honesty,’ as Lucius made a passionate gesture; ‘but it would serve no useful purpose. To-morrow, if God blesses our arms as He has hitherto done, we shall sweep Shields from the field, and your comrade, if he has not managed to escape, may be recovered in the struggle. At the worst he will be sent north with other prisoners, and exchanged in due course.’
‘Oh, but you are forgetting that he is a civilian,’ urged Lucius, ‘and that if they find out that he took the despatch, they will kill him for it.’ His voice trembled so that he could hardly enunciate the words.
‘They would serve you the same way if they got hold of you,’ answered Jackson.
‘But they shall not get hold of me, General,’ said Lucius. ‘I know their word, I wear their uniform, and I know the way. Once I get to the wood I shall be all right. Besides,’ he added cunningly, ‘as soon as I have found out what has become of him, I will return and give you fresh information about the troops—all I can collect.’
‘My scouts are out already,’ answered Jackson, ‘and there is little likelihood that you would be able to accomplish more than they will with their trained powers of observation.’
‘Have they brought you a despatch like that?’ asked Lucius, with a certain pride in his voice.
‘A fair hit,’ returned Jackson, smiling. ‘No; but I may tell you that the information I have received through them tallies exactly with the contents of the despatch, which is perhaps fortunate for you. So you see that you have but confirmed the knowledge I already possess. In saying that, I do not wish to underrate the value of the service you have performed. If you were a soldier, I should know how to reward you. As it is’——
‘General,’ broke in Lucius, ‘I never thought of reward. Something told me it was my duty, and I tried to do it. But if I have really been of service, give me leave to go back. That is all I ask.—Oh, General, if you knew what friends we are! If you knew what he has done for me! And I stand here talking while perhaps he——Oh, General, let me go! let me go!’ He sprang forwards with clasped hands, his chest heaving, his breath coming and going in quick, short gasps, while great tears, which only pride kept from falling, rose in his eyes.
‘You are a devoted friend, young man,’ said Jackson, moved by his passionate appeal. ‘If I thought you could do any good——You know the country?’ he broke off.
‘Oh yes, yes,’ cried Lucius. ‘That part of it, at least. Haven’t I been running around there all day?’
‘When you broke away from the sentry who stopped you, and took to flight, I suppose you would both be likely to take the same direction?’ queried General Jackson.
‘I imagine so,’ answered Lucius. ‘Why?’
‘Because if your friend succeeded in making our lines, he would most likely enter them at or near the point that you did. Come,’ he added kindly; ‘to relieve your anxiety, we will go together and make inquiries.’
He caught up his hat, and beckoning Lucius to follow him, strode out of the room.
Outside, the adjutant-general was anxiously awaiting him, and Jackson stopped a moment to whisper a few instructions.
‘Tell them to meet me here in three-quarters of an hour,’ he concluded.—‘Now, young man, come with me.’
They walked on for some distance in silence; but at last Lucius said shyly: ‘I beg your pardon, General, but we could hear the firing as we lay in the woods. Would you mind telling me whether you whipped Frémont to-day, or yesterday, for I don’t know what the time is?’
‘By the blessing of God we were victorious,’ answered Jackson devoutly.
‘Hurrah!’ cried Lucius. ‘We were certain you would be. It will be the same to-day, or to-morrow, or whenever it is. Oh, General, when we stood among the Yanks this morning and watched you on the hill when our fellows carried the bridge, we felt we wouldn’t mind being killed, so long as our side won. It was glorious!’
‘You ought to have been soldiers, you two,’ said Jackson, laughing at his enthusiasm; ‘but I suppose you prefer your ploughs and harrows. Farmers, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, well, some one must look after the crops, I 221suppose,’ answered Lucius evasively, glad of this loophole to escape the inconvenient question of identity.
‘Quite so,’ admitted the General with a sigh; ‘but I fear that before long you will have to beat your ploughshares into swords, for we shall need all the stout hearts and strong arms we can muster in the trouble that is coming upon us.’
‘You shan’t have to wait long for me,’ exclaimed Lucius fervently. ‘Once I get home again, nothing shall keep me from joining, and so I’ll tell them.’
‘Halt! Who comes there?’
It was a sentry on the inner line of pickets who challenged them, and as in answer to the General’s question he reported all well, they passed beyond him and hurried towards the outposts.
Here, too, all was quiet. There had been no further scare, and presently they reached the picket in charge of the captain who had forwarded Lucius to headquarters. He saluted the General, and glancing in some surprise at Lucius, whom he recognised, observed that he hoped he had been right in what he had done.
‘Perfectly,’ returned Jackson. ‘No one else has come in since this young man, I suppose?’
‘Only one of our scouts, sir,’ replied the captain. ‘He is on his way to you now. He reported a scrimmage somewhere between this and Lewiston. He couldn’t tell what it was about; but there was a great fuss, and some one, he presumed a prisoner, was being taken to the Federal camp. He was unable to ascertain whether it was one of his brother scouts or not.’
At this doleful communication, Lucius felt his heart leap, and like lightning a plan flashed through his brain. He sprang to Jackson’s side, and caught his hand in both his own.
‘General,’ he cried in piercing tones, ‘that must have been my friend. I am sure of it. I will go, if I die for it. Do you remember you spoke to me in Staunton that Sunday? I am Lucius Markham. If I never come back, tell my father it was I who brought in the despatch.’ And before the astonished General could move a finger to stop him, he had darted away and sprung beyond the outpost.
‘Stop him! Fire on him!’ shouted the captain, who was very far from comprehending the meaning of the scene.
‘Order arms!’ commanded the General loudly, as some of the soldiers levelled their guns at the rapidly disappearing Lucius. ‘Let him go. You will never catch him now. No pursuit, captain. Good-night.’ He turned away and walked quickly back to his quarters. ‘Lucius Markham!’ he muttered to himself as he hurried along. ‘Well, somehow I thought I knew his face. The plucky little rascal! I remember he was burning to be allowed to join. What with his dirt and his bandages, he looked so much older that it is no wonder I did not recognise him. Who is this friend of his, and what have they been up to between them? Well, well, I can do nothing but pray that no evil may befall him, for his father’s sake. He is in the hand of God. I can do nothing—nothing.’
A solitary shot from the direction of the Federal outposts. General Jackson stopped and listened anxiously. Then as all was still, he shook his head sadly, and turning once more upon his heel, went slowly on.
phraim was not long in following out his own recommendation to Lucius, but unfortunately, instead of bearing away to the left, he took a straighter line, and before he had gone fifty yards, found himself surrounded by a dozen men, who had approached the scene of conflict with more caution and less noise than their fellow-soldiers. The Grizzly, indeed, was among them before he was aware of their presence, and ere he could attempt to resist or break through the circle, was firmly seized and held fast.
‘I guess we’ve got some one,’ said a rough voice. ‘Who may yew be, and whar air yew running to?’
Ephraim did not answer at once. His first thoughts, as usual, were of Lucius, and he was listening intently for any sign which might indicate his capture. Presently he heard the boy’s voice shouting misleading directions as he practised his simple ruse de guerre, and once more at rest upon this point, gave attention to the question, which was now repeated in a more peremptory tone.
‘Waal,’ answered Ephraim slowly, feeling, as it were, for his words, ‘I heard a fuss, and I was runnin’ to see what the trouble was.’
‘I reckon yew must have an outrageous fine bump of locality,’ said another man sneeringly, ‘seeing that yew’re making tracks in a teetotally wrong direction.—Hi! Pete, hurry up with the lantern, and let’s have a look at this coon.’
‘Ef I don’t keep a level head,’ thought Ephraim, as he heard this, ‘I’m a goner, shore. Waal, it don’t matter much, ez long ez Luce is safe, and I reckon he is, so fur, fer I don’t hear any row.—Oh! Ugh!’
The expression of pain was wrung from him as the grasp of one of his captors tightened upon his wounded shoulder.
‘What’s the matter with yew?’ inquired the man. ‘My land! My hand is all wet. So’s his shoulder. Quick with the light! Why, it’s blood! I guess, corporal, he war running from the trouble, not towards it. No wonder he war in sech a hurry.’
The corporal stepped up and examined Ephraim’s torn coat and lacerated shoulder by the light of the lantern.
‘Humph!’ he ejaculated. ‘A nasty rake, and a fresh wound, too. How did you come by this?’
‘I reckon something must hev struck me,’ returned Ephraim, as though he were now receiving news of his wound for the first time. ‘Thar’s sech a heap er things flying around these days, ye can’t tell whar they come from or whar they go ter.’
‘This is no bullet wound, though,’ said the corporal, examining it again. ‘It’s been done by a bayonet.—Come, you, tell us what happened. Did you meet the Reb?’ For he noted that Ephraim was clad in the Federal blue.
‘I ’magine it must hev been suthin’ er thet sort,’ replied Ephraim cautiously. ‘Ennyway, I run up agin suthin’ or somebody, and thet’s the fact.’
‘Where did it happen?’ asked the corporal.
‘Somewhar round. It mought hev been hyar and it mought hev been thar. I can’t ezackly say.’
‘Did your assailant bolt after wounding you?’ was the corporal’s next question.
‘I didn’t stop ter see,’ began Ephraim, when a loud shout close by announced that the question had received a practical answer by the discovery of the body of Sergeant Mason.
‘Hi! Help!’ shouted a voice. ‘Thar’s a dead soldier over hyar. No, he ain’t dead; but he’s got it pretty bad. Help!’
The corporal rushed in the direction of the hail, and the soldiers hurried Ephraim after him. Presently they came to the scene of the late scrimmage, where the sergeant still lay upon his back, moaning faintly.
‘Why, if it isn’t Sergeant Mason!’ cried the corporal, bending over the prostrate man.—‘Did you do this?’ he demanded fiercely, straightening up and facing Ephraim.
The Grizzly recognised that further concealment was useless, so he answered firmly: ‘It war in fair fight, corporal. I reckon ef it hadn’t been him lyin’ thar, it would hev been me, so maybe it’s ez well ez it is.’
‘Then I guess you’re the man we want,’ cried the corporal.—‘Boys, this is the pesky Secesh, what’s given so much trouble to-day, going round in Federal uniform. I bet it is.—We’ve got you now, Johnny 226Reb, so you may as well own up. Who are you, any how?’
‘I reckon you make me tired with your questions,’ answered Ephraim. ‘I shan’t answer no more. Ye ain’t the provost-marshal, air ye?’
‘Ho! if it’s him you want to see,’ mocked the corporal, ‘I guess we won’t be long gratifying your desires.—Hey, boys?’
A low muttering among the men swelled suddenly into a shout, and there was an ugly rush in the direction of Ephraim. The corporal threw himself in the way of it.
‘No, no, boys,’ he cried. ‘I guess his time is short enough without your cutting it shorter. Besides, fair’s fair, and the fellow that could get the best of Sergeant Mason in a tussle must be a stark fighter and a pretty average kind of a man. Let him take his chance with the provost-marshal. I reckon it’s his business, not ours.’
The men, appealed to in this soldierly fashion, fell back, and at the corporal’s direction four of them raised the fallen Sergeant Mason and started for the camp, bearing him between them.
‘Now, you,’ said the corporal, ‘since you’re in such a hurry, step out, and we’ll call on your friend the provost-marshal. I shouldn’t wonder if he was waiting up to receive you.—Fetch him along, boys.’
‘Corporal,’ asked the Grizzly in a weak voice, ’ kin I hev a drink er water? I’——The words failed on his lips, he staggered and would have fallen, but for the supporting arms of the two men who held him.
‘My land!’ exclaimed the corporal. ‘I’d forgotten 227his wound. Lay him down on the ground.—Hyar, drink this. We may be Yankees, Johnny Reb; but we are not brutes by a good deal.’ He held his canteen to Ephraim’s lips, and when the latter had satisfied his thirst, rapidly cut away his coat and made a fresh examination of the wound.
‘There,’ he said, arranging his own handkerchief as a pad over the gash, and binding it in its place with another which one of the men handed to him—‘you’ll do now till the surgeon can get his paws on you. It’s only a scratch, though it’s a pretty deep one. Feel better?’
‘I’m obleeged ter ye,’ said Grizzly, sitting up. ‘I’m all right agen now. It war water I wanted.—No,’ as he rose to his feet, ‘ye needn’t carry me. I kin walk well enuff.’
‘Are you sure?’ demurred the corporal, who was prepossessed in Ephraim’s favour on account of his prowess in having overthrown such a mighty man of valour as Sergeant Mason. ‘It’ll be easy enough to have you carried.’
‘I’ll walk while I kin walk,’ returned Ephraim with grim humour. ‘Ye kin carry me after the shootin’. Or I reckon it’s hangin’ when ye’re ketched spyin’ around; ain’t it?’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ answered the corporal as they moved along. ‘And I wish it wasn’t, for you’re a brave man, and I’d sooner see you with an ounce of lead in your brain than dangling at the end of a rope.’
‘That’s real kind of you, corporal,’ said Ephraim. ‘The selection is very ch’ice; but I ’low the result won’t make much difference ter me.’
The corporal seemed to feel the force of this, for he made no reply, and they continued their way in silence until the groups of smouldering bivouac fires showed that they had reached the outer line of the camp. Passing through the long rows of slumbering soldiers, they came at last to the guard tent, and here the corporal, on making inquiries, was referred to the officer of the day, who in his turn directed them to the provost-marshal.
They found that this dreaded functionary had left word that, in the event of the capture of the spy, he was to be awakened at once, no matter what the hour; but as a matter of fact he arrived upon the scene in a very bad humour, for after waiting up till considerably past midnight, he had thought that he might safely turn in, and now his first sweet, refreshing sleep had been rudely broken. That this was due to the strictness of his own orders did not tend to soothe him, for there was nobody to shift the blame upon, and to be reduced to grumbling at one’s self is a state that offers little consolation. Yes, there was some one, though, upon whom the vials of his wrath might be legitimately emptied, and the provost-marshal determined that the spy—if spy he really proved to be—should have nothing to complain of on the score of undue leniency.
‘Bring that prisoner in here,’ he said, appearing at the entrance to his tent.—‘Now, corporal, is this the spy?’
‘Can’t say, sir,’ answered the corporal; ‘but I shouldn’t wonder if it were. I captured him as he was attempting to escape after clubbing Sergeant Mason.’
229The provost-marshal, who had seated himself at a small table with a note-book before him and a pencil in his hand, looked up in surprise at this. ‘Do I understand you to say,’ he asked, ‘that this weedy creature actually got the best of Sergeant Mason?’
‘It’s a fact, sir,’ replied the corporal. ‘Mason has got a crack on the head that will keep him quiet this long time. Of course I didn’t see the fight myself, but this fellow here don’t deny that he is the man, and he has a bayonet wound in the shoulder to speak for the truth of what he says.’
‘Humph!’ muttered the provost-marshal. ‘I shouldn’t have thought it possible. Well, I’ll question him.—By the way, corporal, did you hear or see anything of those other two fellows?’
‘No, sir,’ answered the corporal, understanding the reference; ‘but I heard, sir, that Colonel Spriggs was still out on the hunt for them.’
The provost-marshal’s moustache was slightly agitated. So grim a person could not be expected to smile; but his amused thought was evidently: ‘Spriggs will take precious good care not to return to camp until Jackson moves from Port Republic, or we move from here.’
For Ephraim, too, the announcement had a special interest, for it showed him that his identity with one of the escaped aeronauts was not, so far, suspected, and hence the provost-marshal could have no idea that any one else had been concerned in the affair of the despatch. Lucius, he hoped, was by this time out of harm’s way; but at all events Spriggs was not there to complicate matters by referring to him. The Grizzly was quite prepared to take the onus of the theft of 230the despatch upon his own shoulders, and he awaited calmly the discovery of the packet. Casting his eyes downwards to his cartridge pouch, he saw with some slight surprise that the flap was unfastened. He had been very particular about the fastening, lest by any chance the papers should be lost, and he wondered whether it had come undone during his combat with Sergeant Mason. He was roused from his meditations by the voice of the provost-marshal questioning him.
‘Are you a soldier or civilian?’
‘Civilian, sir. I am a factory hand at the ironworks at Staunton. I came into your lines by accident, and ’cause I wanted ter git out agen without comin’ ter grief, I put on these clothes thet I found in the wood.’
‘Ah! I suppose it was also by accident that, thus disguised as a Federal soldier, you played the part of sentry, and became fraudulently possessed of a despatch belonging to General Shields and addressed to General Frémont? And I imagine that if, by another and very lucky accident, you had fallen in with your friends, the enemy, you would have felt compelled to hand the despatch over to them. It is fortunate that we got hold of you first.’
This was a shot on the part of the provost-marshal, for he had as yet no means of knowing that Ephraim and the man who had stopped Captain Hopkins were one and the same. As Ephraim did not answer, he went on: ‘Have you got the despatch, corporal?’
‘No, sir,’ replied the corporal. ‘I was busy attending to his wound and bringing him here.’
‘Search him, then.’
The corporal searched Ephraim literally down to 231his skin, and to the surprise of no one more than the Grizzly himself, discovered nothing.
‘They must hev dropped out while the row war goin’ on,’ thought Ephraim; for it never crossed his mind that by an accidental exchange of belts the papers had come into Luce’s hands. Had he suspected this, he would have felt miserable indeed.
‘What have you done with that despatch, you fellow? What is your name?’ asked the provost-marshal angrily.
‘Ephraim Sykes,’ answered the Grizzly, paying no attention to the more important question.
‘Psha! Where is the despatch?—Well, do you not intend to answer?’ For still Ephraim held his peace.
‘I told ye the truth jest now,’ said Ephraim at last. ‘I war tryin’ ter git out er your lines, whar I come without any wish er my own. I hevn’t got any despatch, ez ye kin see.’
‘What have you done with it, then?’ inquired the provost-marshal impatiently.
‘I hevn’t said I ever had it,’ answered Ephraim, anxious to gain time. ‘Ef ye air so ready ter accuse me, ye’d better start in and prove me guilty. I’m not supposed ter do it fer ye, I reckon.’
The officer eyed him sternly. ‘Justice shall be done, my man; don’t you be afraid of that,’ he said significantly.—‘Corporal!’ He gave an order in an undertone, and the corporal immediately left the tent.
In a few minutes he returned, followed by Captain Hopkins, who entered with a look of eager expectation on his face.
‘Do you recognise this man, captain?’ asked the 232provost-marshal.—‘You, Sykes, come forward into the light.’
‘Recognise him! I should think so,’ exclaimed Hopkins, as Ephraim obeyed the order. ‘That is the rascal who personated a sentry by the river bank, stole the despatch by means of a trick, and set my boat adrift.’
‘You are certain that you are not mistaken, captain?’
‘Absolutely. The interview was too fruitful in consequences to allow me to forget the interviewer. I would have picked this man out of a whole regiment.’
The provost-marshal looked at Ephraim. ‘You hear the charge,’ he said briefly. ‘What have you to say?’
‘Waal, I han’t denied it,’ answered Ephraim.
‘You mean that you admit that you took the despatch from Captain Hopkins. I understand you to admit that.’
‘It ain’t much use my doin’ anythin’ else, so fur ez I kin see,’ returned Ephraim. ‘Yes; I stopped him and took the despatch.’
‘Good! Your intention, of course, was to deliver it to the enemy?’
‘Nary a doubt er thet,’ admitted Ephraim.
‘By whom you were commissioned to enter our lines and collect whatever information you could?’
‘Not at all,’ answered Ephraim sharply. ‘It war jest ez I told ye. I war a civilian tryin’ to escape out of yer lines. But the chance came ter me, and I took it.’
‘I need not tell you in return that the taking of that chance will cost you your life; for civilian though you may be, you are probably acquainted with the punishment incurred by a spy. It matters not at 233all that the paper has not been found upon you, since you have been identified and have confessed your guilt’——
‘Guilt!’ put in Ephraim quietly. ‘I han’t confessed to any guilt ez fur ez I know. I don’t call it a crime ter try and serve my country, whatever ye may do.’
‘We won’t go into the question of patriotism either,’ returned the provost-marshal. ‘Unfortunately for you, when a man is caught serving his country in the particular fashion in which you have elected to serve yours, there is only one thing to be done with him.’
‘I’d like ter be allowed ter ask ye, Mister Marshal,’ said Ephraim, ‘ef thar air none er your men prowlin’ around our lines jest ter see what they kin pick up? What’s the difference between them and me? Ain’t they servin’ their country, too, accordin’ ter their lights?’
‘I’ll allow that,’ answered the provost-marshal. ‘And if your fellows can lay them by the heels, they will serve them as we shall serve you—namely, hang them. But now, my man, seeing that you can’t get off, and that there is but one end in store for you, you may as well tell me what you have done with the despatch.’
‘It’ll make no difference to me, ye say? Ter the hangin’, thet is?’ queried Ephraim.
The provost-marshal shook his head. ‘Not the slightest,’ he said.
‘Then hang away and welcome. Ye’ll git no more out er me.’
The provost-marshal considered for a moment. It was important to ascertain if possible whether the 234despatch had reached the enemy or not. Finally he said: ‘Understand me, my man: I am empowered to deal summarily with cases like yours. I might condemn you out of hand; but if you will tell me truly what you have done with the despatch, I will give you this further chance, that I will refer your case to the general in the morning. Speak out now.’
Ephraim considered in his turn. He did not give much for the grace of being brought face to face with General Shields, who he did not doubt would instantly recognise him as the purloiner of his breakfast and the soi-disant ‘Trailing Terror,’ and so the matter would become more hopelessly complicated than ever. But life was sweet, and if he could gain a respite of only a few hours, there was no saying what might happen in the interval. He had risked his life, and would have done so again, to carry the despatch to the Confederate General; but seeing that it was lost and he could by no possibility discover it, why should he not simply say so and take the proffered advantage?
‘Well,’ said the provost-marshal at last, ‘have you made up your mind?’
‘I hev, sir,’ answered Ephraim. ‘But if I tell ye the truth ye’ll maybe not b’leeve me.’
‘Say your say, and we shall see,’ returned the other; ‘but I seriously advise you not to attempt to put me off with any cock-and-bull story.’
‘Waal,’ began Ephraim, ‘I ’low I might bluff ye by tellin’ ye thet I’d got thet despatch across the lines, fer I reckon thet’s the idee thet’s makin’ ye oncomfortable; but if I’d got thet fur with it, I wouldn’t 235hev been sech a born fool ez to come back jest fer the pleasure er bein’ hung. The plain truth is, I don’t know whar it is any more than ye do yerself.’
‘Do you mean that you have lost it?’
‘Nuthin’ less. I had it hyar in this pouch jest before thet rumpus with the sergeant at the end of the ditch, and I reckon it must hev fell out somewhar thar.’ Ephraim did honestly believe this to be the case.
‘If you had had an accomplice, it would have been a simple matter to pass the paper on to him,’ said the provost-marshal, regarding him doubtfully.
‘Ye may be easy on thet score,’ replied Ephraim firmly. ‘I got hold er the despatch by myself without the help er any one. I carried it in this pouch, ez I war tellin’ ye, and I know thet I had it jest before the row began. Maybe it’s lyin’ around loose on the ground somewhar thar. I’m tellin’ ye the truth and no lies,’ he added earnestly. ‘B’leeve me or not, thet’s my last word.’
The provost-marshal rose to his feet, ‘Captain Hopkins,’ he said, ‘return to your quarters. I will send for you when I require you.’ Then as the captain went out: ‘Corporal, place this man under guard. Afterwards take your men and return to the spot where you arrested this spy. Make a thorough search of the ground in the vicinity. If you find the despatch, bring it at once to me. If not, come back here with the prisoner at dawn.’
‘Very good, sir,’ answered the corporal.—‘What shall I do about the man’s wound, sir?’
‘Oh, thet’s nuthin’,’ put in Ephraim. ‘I don’t know it’s thar sence ye tied it up.’
‘The sentry can be told to send for a surgeon if it becomes necessary during the night,’ said the provost-marshal. ‘Remove the prisoner.’
The corporal retired with Ephraim, whom he immediately conducted to an empty tent, before the door of which he set a sentry. Then he unslung his canteen and laid it down on the ground beside the prisoner, and a moment later forced a great handful of biscuit upon him.
‘There,’ he said good-naturedly, ‘you won’t starve now, and if your shoulder troubles you, hail the sentry and he’ll send for a surgeon. I’ve told him.’
’Tain’t wuth it fer all the time I’ll know I’ve got an arm,’ said Ephraim gloomily.
‘Oh, maybe it’ll not be so bad as that. If we find the despatch, you may get off I don’t say you will; but I hope so, for I like your pluck in standing up to a giant like Sergeant Mason.’
‘I’m obleeged ter ye,’ said Ephraim more heartily. ‘I hadn’t looked fer so much kindness from a Yank.’
‘Ah, we’re not so black as we’re painted down South,’ laughed the corporal. ‘And we’re all Americans, if it comes to the pinch, and don’t you forget it.’
He nodded kindly and went out, leaving Ephraim alone with his reflections.
They were not pleasant, as may well be imagined. The lad was brave, but it takes a considerable supply of somewhat unusual fortitude to enable one to wait through the dark watches of the night, looking forward to the death which is to come with the dawn, and strive as he would, Ephraim found it hard to put the dismal prospect from him.
‘I wish they’d hung me out er hand,’ he said to himself. ‘It would hev been over by now. It’s the thinkin’ what’s ter come thet makes me sick.’ He rose and paced backwards and forwards in his narrow prison. ‘God be thanked, Luce warn’t with me,’ ran his thoughts. ‘Ef he’s had any luck, he’ll be safe in our lines by now. But I wish I knew. I wish I knew. Luce’ll be sorry when he comes ter hear er this. We’ve always been sech friends. Thar’s on’y him and Aunty Chris. Luce’ll take keer on her; I bet he will. I’d like ter see him once more before I die; but I wouldn’t hev him hyar fer thet. By time! no. I wonder will it hurt. I dunno, but I’d ruther they’d shoot me; but I s’pose I ain’t good enuff fer thet. Waal, I reckon it won’t take long either way. Funny, ain’t it, ter hev ter die? I reckon I orter be thinkin’ about heaven, ‘stead er which I’m hankerin’ a good deal after this old earth. Anyway, I’ll try and fix my thorts above, ez the minister said last Sabbath. Maybe it’ll do me good and make me brave; but I reckon it’s none too easy.’
He knelt down upon the ground and covered his eyes with his hand, as if with the sight of earth he would shut out all thoughts of it. Then from his simple heart there welled a passionate prayer to God, not for his own safety, for he considered that as a thing past praying for, but that he might be able to look Death bravely in the face, and meet him as a man should do—that God would take care of Aunty Chris, and bless and keep Luce from harm—‘Let him git home! Let him git thar!‘—and he was done.
He rose to his feet, refreshed in spirit and steadier in his nerves. Hope seemed to have returned to him, 238and there was something like a smile upon his lips as he stowed away the biscuit which the corporal had given him in his pockets.
‘Ye never know when they might come in handy,’ he muttered.—‘Hello! What do ye want?’
For the sentry had put his head through the opening of the tent, obscuring the faint light that entered there.
‘‘St!’ whispered the sentry. ‘Don’t make a noise. By time! Grizzly, I’m sorry ter see ye fixed up like this.’
To say that Ephraim was astonished as this sympathetic remark fell upon his ear, would be to convey a very faint idea of his sensations. For the moment he was simply bewildered. The voice was the voice of a friend, and where in all that great army should he look for a friend just now?
‘Who air ye?’ he attempted to say; but his tongue clove to his mouth, and no sound came from his lips.
He groped for the corporal’s canteen and took a drink. ‘Who air ye?’ he said at last. ‘Who air ye thet speak ter me like thet?’
His legs began to tremble under him. He sat down upon the ground and took another sip of water from the canteen. It refreshed him, and he listened eagerly for the reply.
‘A friend,’ answered the sentry. ‘Don’t ye be down in the mouth, Eph Sykes. I’m hyar ter help ye. On’y we must go cautious, ye know.’
‘Who air ye?’ repeated Ephraim. ‘Who air ye?’ He said it over and over again monotonously, like a parrot repeating the words.
‘Sh! What’s the matter with ye? Don’t ye know me? I thort ye would. I’m Jake Summers. Ye know me now, don’t ye?’
‘Ah! I do thet,’ answered Ephraim with cold contempt. ‘Jake Summers, the Southern Yankee. The man who quit old Virginny when the war broke out, and took sides agin her. I know ye well enuff now. And ye call yerself a friend. Yah! Git out and leave me alone.’
‘Oh, shet yer head, Grizzly,’ was the retort, given without a spice of ill-humour. ‘What do you know? I reckon we’ve all got our own opinions, and may be allowed ter keep ’em. I’m not the on’y one by a long sight ez couldn’t make up his mind to cut loose from the old union, ez ye know well enough. I ’magine ye won’t deny a man the right ter foller the call er his conscience in this onnatural war.’
‘Couldn’t ye hev hung on ter the union ’thout firin’ bullets inter old Virginny, ef thet’s the way ye felt about it,’ answered Ephraim. ‘Anyway, ye kin settle up with yer conscience the best way ye please, so long as ye git out er thet. Quit!’
‘Eph,’ said the man earnestly, ‘don’t make sech a pizen noise, onless ye want ter wake up them ez doesn’t feel fer ye ez I do. I tell ye I want ter be yer friend ef ye’ll let me, and not be a fool.’
‘Garn away,’ replied Ephraim dismally, but not so roughly as before. ‘What kin ye do?’
‘I’ll show ye ef ye’ll git up and come over hyar, whar I kin talk ter ye ’thout bein’ heard all over the camp,’ said the man.—‘Eph, d’ye remember little Toots?’
‘Ah, I remember him,’ answered Ephraim. ‘What ye bringin’ him up fer?’
‘Little Toots, my little b’y Toots,’ went on the man with a catch in his voice. ‘The on’y one me and Jenny ever had. D’ye remember, Eph, after we thort he war gittin’ well from the dipthery, how ye useter come and see him, and bring him toys ye’d made yerself. One time it war a little gun, one time it war a Noah’s ark ye’d cut him outern a block er pine, and another time it war a Jack-in-the-box thet useter frighten him every time it come out, and then make him larf till we thort he’d never stop?’ The rough voice died away in a sob.
‘I don’t see what yer meanin’ is,’ said Ephraim uncomfortably, for he hated to be reminded of his little charities.
‘Don’t ye? I’ll larn ye soon. When we quit Staunton, Jenny and Toots and me, the little b’y he sorter sickened after the old home, and he got weaker and weaker. We’d lost everything, Eph, and we couldn’t git him the little comforts he wanted, the pore lamb, and thar we hed ter sit and see him wastin’ before our eyes, me and Jenny. Eph, I tell ye, he war always singin’ out fer you. “I want Grizzly,” says he. “I want him ter bring me a toy.” And when he died, Eph, he war jest huggin’ yer old Jack-in-the-box ter his breast, ez ef he loved it too much ter leave it behind him. So we put it in with him, Eph, fer we couldn’t bear ter take it from him.’ His voice choked again, and he stopped abruptly.
‘Pore little Toots!’ murmured Ephraim sympathetically. ‘And so ye lost him, Jake?’
‘We did,’ answered Jake; ‘and we thort our hearts 242war broke, we did, me and Jenny. And then ter-night, jest now when the corporal brought ye along and sot ye in thar with me ter look after ye, I couldn’t believe it fer a spell. And then I thort how good ye’d been ter little Toots, makin’ his little life thet happy, and how fond he war er ye and all. And I sez ter myself, I dunno what Eph Sykes hez been up ter; but I reckon ef harm comes ter him while I’m hyar ter keep it off’n him, I’ll never be able ter look little Toots in the face when wanst I meet him again. Now ye kin tell, Grizzly, ef I’m yer friend or ef I ain’t.’
Ephraim made no answer; but in the dark he groped for Jake’s hand and wrung it hard.
‘I’ve got a plan, Eph,’ said Jake, returning the pressure. ‘It’s ez simple ez hoein’ a row. On’y we must be quick.’
‘No, Jake, I can’t let ye do it,’ answered Ephraim at last. ‘Ye can’t help me ’thout hurtin’ yerself, and I can’t save my life et the price er another man’s, ’ceptin’ in a fair fight. It’s good er ye, Jake, and it’s like what I remember ye in the old days. But I can’t let ye do it; though I’m obleeged ter ye, all the same.’
‘Shucks!’ exclaimed Jake impatiently. ‘Don’t ye consarn yerself over me. I reckon I like a whole skin ez well ez any man. Thar’ll be a court-martial and thet; but they won’t be able to prove anythin’. Don’t waste time. Hev ye got a knife?’
‘On’y a little wan,’ replied Ephraim, yielding to his persuasion.
‘Then take mine, and open the big blade. Now then, rip a great hole in the back er the tent. Do it soft, now. Don’t make no noise. Hev ye done it?’
‘Yes,’ answered Ephraim. ‘Am I ter git out thet way?’
‘My land! no. Ye’d be stopped before ye’d gone ten paces. It’s on’y fer a blind, thet. Now come over hyar. Put yer hands behind yer back ez ef they war tied, and step out alongside me. See hyar, Eph, this has got ter be smartly done, fer I must git back ter my post without loss er time. I’ll take the resk. I can’t do everythin’ I’d like ter do; but I’ll pilot ye through the camp, and then ye must make a break fer the woods on yer own account. Ef ye let ’em nab ye agen, ye’re not the man I take ye fer. Air ye ready? Then come along.’
With considerable difficulty Ephraim clasped his hands behind his back, owing to the stiffness in his shoulder; but he set his teeth and bore the pain, and while Jake grasped him by the arm, the two of them set out with soft but rapid steps through the slumbering camp.
Here and there a head was sleepily lifted; but the sight of a prisoner at any hour of the day or night was altogether too common to attract serious attention, and only once did Jake open his mouth to inform a sentry that he was taking his charge to the provost-marshal.
Presently they reached the tent where the stern dispenser of martial law slept in blissful unconsciousness that his prey was on the point of slipping through his fingers. Needless to say they did not enter his tent, which was at the extreme end of the camp near the river, but making a slight detour, slipped past it, and almost immediately afterwards Jake came to a halt.
‘Thet’s all I kin do fer ye, Grizzly,’ he whispered. ‘Ye must trust ter luck fer the rest. God send ye git safe in. Give a kind thort ter Uncle Sam sometimes fer this night’s work.’ And before Ephraim could utter a word of the thanks that rushed to his lips, his benefactor had turned and left him.
‘Waal,’ thought Ephraim, as he cast himself at full length upon the ground in order to escape observation, ‘thet Jake Summers is a man down ter his boots. To think of the few toys I give little Toots bringin’ about all this. I never thort when I made him thet Jack-in-the-box thet it war ter be the savin’ er my life. My land! I kin sca’cely onderstand it.’
As he lay, he rapidly revolved plan after plan for his further procedure, rejecting them all, till at last he made up his mind to attempt to reach the hut in the forest, and conceal himself therein until the day broke.
‘It’s resky,’ he thought to himself; ‘but then everythin’s resky jest now. And it’s better than wanderin’ round in the dark, when I might plump up against a Yank before I knew whar I war. Thet window is so handy, too. Onless they come on me from all sides at wanst, I kin slip through it nicely and away inter the woods.’
He stole across the fields, bending almost to the ground lest any prowling Federal or lynx-eyed sentry should catch sight of him; nor did he pause to take breath until he reached the long ditch, at the far end of which he had waged that memorable battle with Sergeant Mason, which had, after all, resulted so disastrously for himself.
‘I wonder whether the corporal has found the despatch,’ he thought, as he rested his back against 245the sloping side of the ditch. ‘It must hev dropped out somewhar thar. He’s a good man, thet corporal, and ef I git cl’ar of this scrape, I won’t hev so many hard things ter say agin the Yanks after ter-night. ’Ceptin’, of co’se, that pesky Cunnel Spriggs. But then, I reckon, he sorter stands alone, bein’, as Ginrul Shields said, a disgrace ter everybody. I wonder whar he is, the critter! Layin’ on ter be lookin’ fer us, when all he wants is ter be quit er the fight ter-morrer, or ter-day, for I guess it’s been ter-day this two hours back. I wonder ef thar will be a battle. It’ll simplify matters a good deal fer me ef thar is, fer the Yanks will hev enuff ter do ’thout huntin’ me. I wonder whar Luce kin be? I hope he’s made our lines all right. My land! I’d jest better quit wonderin’ and ‘tend ter business.’
He started off again, going warily, and anon reached, without accident, the short arm of the wood, through which he groped cautiously until he came opposite to the back of the hut. Here he paused again, and throwing himself down, crawled on his hands and knees across the short strip of intervening ground. At the window he raised himself up cautiously and listened intently. Not a sound broke the stillness, and satisfied at last, he edged his way round to the front.
‘All cl’ar,’ he thought. ‘Thet’s well. Now I’ll set down jest inside the door, and then ef anybody comes I kin slip in and away through the window, or out across the open ez the case may be. It’s oncomfortably nigh the camp, this cabin; but I ’magine it’s the safest place till the mornin’ breaks.’
He sat down at the door of the cabin, and pulling 246out a piece of the corporal’s biscuit, ate it with relish. Half an hour passed, and the deep stillness acting soothingly upon his tired nerves, he began to feel drowsy, and actually nodded once or twice.
‘This won’t do,’ he muttered. ‘I must keep awake; it’——Another nod, and then he sprang noiselessly to his feet, wide awake and quivering in every limb. He heard, or thought he heard, a scratching sound at the window of the hut.
He strained his ears to listen, ready the instant that doubt became certainty to flee across the open into the fields once more.
Again that faint scratching sound, this time a little louder, and accompanied by a gentle tapping.
‘It’s a squirr’l, I reckon,’ thought Ephraim, much relieved. ‘He has maybe got a knot hole on the roof.’
‘Whippo-wil! whippo-wil! whippo-wil!’
Ephraim stiffened into attention again. There was nothing extraordinary about the sound. It was night, or rather very early morning, the time when the whip-poor-wills took their exercise and screamed out their loud, clear notes; but there was something else. In the old days at Staunton, which the startling events of the last four and twenty hours had crowded so far into the background that they seemed removed by a distance of years from the present, it had been Luce’s custom to come whip-poor-willing down the little back street where Ephraim lived, to give his friend timely notice of his approach. Therefore the sound had a greater significance for the Grizzly.
‘Hear thet bird!’ he said to himself. ‘It’s jest what Luce use ter do. My! I wonder will I ever git back to the old home again.’
‘Whippo-wil! whippo-wil! whippo-wil! Tap, tap, tap!’
Now a whip-poor-will may sing its song at night, but it does not usually perch upon a window-sill and lightly tap to attract attention, and this was borne home to Ephraim when for the third time the cry was repeated, followed by the mysterious rapping.
Ephraim’s heart gave a great leap. ‘It can’t be!’ he said, in the silence of his brain. ‘It can’t be! I reckon I must find out, though.’
He crept noiselessly round the cabin and peered beyond the angle of the wall in the direction of the window.
The space at the back of the hut was darker than that at the front, for the nearness of the woods threw an additional gloom; but Ephraim, staring into the dark, could just make out a figure standing at a little distance from the window with outstretched arm, which rose and fell rhythmically, and at every movement came the light tap, tap of a switch upon the sill.
‘Whippo-wil! whippo’——
‘Luce!’
‘Grizzly!’
There was a rush through the darkness, the shock of a violent meeting, and panting, trembling, almost sobbing with joy, the two friends clung to one another in a fervent embrace.
‘Luce!’ whispered the Grizzly, the words falling in broken syllables from his lips. ‘What ye doin’ hyar? I thought ye would be safe and fur away.’
‘I didn’t know what had become of you,’ whispered Lucius back; ‘but I imagined that if you had got 248away you would make for the cabin. It seemed the most likely place. Oh, I’m so glad! I’m so glad!’
‘I’m glad too; but I’m sorry ez well, fer I thought ye would be well within our lines. Ugh! Ah!’
‘What is the matter?’ asked Lucius in alarm, as at another friendly hug Ephraim uttered a low cry of pain.
‘It’s nuthin’, bub. On’y I got it in the shoulder, and ye gripped me thar. Come into the cabin. We’ll be safer thet way.’
‘What! Are you wounded?’ inquired Lucius anxiously, as he followed Ephraim in through the window.
‘Jest a scrape on the shoulder. Never mind it. Tell me what happened after ye left me. I reckon ye ran back the way ye had come. I heard ye shoutin’.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ answered Lucius. ‘At least, only for a few steps, and then I made a break clean away. And I got through,’ he added proudly.
‘Through the ring thet was round ye?’ queried Ephraim, not understanding.
‘No,’ replied Lucius; ‘through their lines and into ours.’
‘What! Ye—got—through—inter—our—lines?’
‘Yes; and gave the despatch to General Jackson.’
‘The despatch? Ginrul Jackson? Luce, what air ye sayin’?’
‘I am telling you just what happened,’ answered Lucius. ‘Didn’t you miss it? The despatch, I mean. I found it in my pouch. We must have changed belts without knowing it in the darkness of the cave.’
‘Ye found the despatch, and ye got inter our lines, 249and ye gave it ter old Stonewall, I onderstand ye ter say!’ said Ephraim, still bewildered.
‘I did, all three.’ He laughed a low laugh of satisfaction.
‘Then why in thunder didn’t ye stay thar?’
‘Grizzly! Did you suppose that after all you have risked for me I would run away and leave you without trying to find out what had become of you? I had such a time with the General. He didn’t know me, not a little bit, and he wouldn’t hear of my coming back. But he was so kind, and when he saw how anxious I was about you, he actually came with me himself as far as the outposts to find out if any one had seen you come in where I did. And then’——He paused and gave another little laugh.
‘And then?’ queried Ephraim, who had listened to the recital in absolute silence.
‘Then I gave him the slip and bolted for the Federal lines. Some one gave the order to fire; but the General—I had told him who I was by that time—called out “Order—arms!” and I got clean away.’
‘And how did ye git ez fur ez this?’
‘I sneaked through somehow. No one saw me. I heard a shot; but it was not fired at me, and I made for this cabin as fast as I could; for I thought you would be here if anywhere.’
The Grizzly bent forward with his head upon his arms and groaned aloud.
‘What is it?’ asked Lucius sympathetically. ‘Does your wound hurt you?’
‘Wound!’ moaned Ephraim. ‘D’ye s’pose I’m thinkin’ about thet et sech a time ez this? No, Luce, it’s you. That ye should git off safe and all, and then start out to come back fer me. Oh, bub, why did ye do it? Why did ye do it?’
‘Why shouldn’t I?’
‘And ye don’t seem ter know thet ye’ve done anythin’ out er the way,’ said Ephraim in a wondering tone.
‘Grizzly, old stick, wouldn’t you have done as much for me?’
‘Thet’s different. I brought ye out, and it war my duty ter git ye home agen ef it war anyways possible. Ye got yerself the best part er the way—inter our lines, thet is—and now ye’ve been and run yer head inter the hornet’s nest agen. And all fer me—all fer me. Luce, ye didn’t orter hev done it. I warn’t wuth it, Luce.’ He sprang to his feet and groped in the darkness for his friend. ‘I’ll never fergit what ye’ve done fer me this day. Never ez long ez I live.’ His voice faltered, and he wrung the younger boy’s hand in silence.
‘Shucks!’ exclaimed Lucius. ‘It’s nothing to talk about, and here I am now. It doesn’t come up by a long measure to what you’ve done for me from the time you broke into the pile till now. Besides, what’s the use of being a friend if you don’t act friendly?’
‘Hear him!’ muttered Ephraim feebly. ‘It’s all very well, Luce. But I can’t fergit it, and I’m not goin’ ter hev ye makin’ light er it.’
‘Well, here I am now,’ said Lucius; ‘and you are safe, I am thankful to say. Tell me what has happened to you since last I saw you. I tell you, while that fight was going on at the end of the ditch, I didn’t know what to do, I was so frightened. I thought at first that the miserable Yank had got you down.’
‘Don’t ye talk so airy er the miserable Yanks,’ said Ephraim emphatically. ‘I’ve had more kindness ter-night from one or two of ’em than I kin well begin ter say. Ef it warn’t fer a miserable Yank, I wouldn’t be hyar jest now.’ And taking up his story, he poured into Luce’s astonished ear a graphic account of his adventures since his arrest.
‘Well,’ commented Lucius when the tale was finished, ‘you have had a time of it, and no mistake. I hope Jake Summers got back before it was found out that you were missed. He must be a good man. You see now what it is to be a kind old Grizzly, and go around making little folks feel happy. I remember little Toots. And so he’s dead?’
‘Yes,’ answered Ephraim, ‘and pore Jake took on orful when he war tellin’ me about him. Yes, I do hope it will go well with Jake.’
‘I believe they won’t be likely to pry into that tent before dawn,’ said Lucius. ‘There’s no reason why they should. They want light to hang a man, I should say.’
‘It don’t foller,’ replied Ephraim drily. ‘But thar’ll be light enuff soon,’ he added, moving to the door and looking out; ’fer the sky is beginnin’ ter brighten. It’s time fer us ter quit this establishment.’
‘Why shouldn’t we stay here?’ demurred Lucius. ‘I should think it would be as safe a place as any.’
‘Not when the day dawns,’ answered Ephraim. ‘Ye don’t s’pose that when they begin ter hunt fer me that they’re not likely ter give a look in hyar ez they pass by.’
‘I imagine that they will have enough to think about without losing time on your trail,’ said Lucius. ‘I saw certain signs as I came through our camp with the General that something was about to happen.’
‘Maybe,’ returned Ephraim quaintly; ‘but ef they lay hold er me before thet suthin’ happens, I wouldn’t be able ter take so much interest in it ez otherwise. No; we musn’t stop hyar.’
‘Where shall we hide, then?’ asked Lucius. ‘I tell you I’ve had enough of trying to break through lines.’
‘I agree with ye thar,’ assented Ephraim. ‘Thar must be no more er that sort er fun. We must make a push across the woods and try and reach the mountain. We kin hide thar well enuff, or make our way along it, whichever seems most reasonable.’
‘We shall only lose ourselves in the wood again,’ protested Lucius. ‘What is the good of that?’
‘Even so, we’ll hev a better chance ter dodge out er sight among the trees,’ argued Ephraim. ‘Honestly, I think it ain’t safe ter stay hyar.’
‘Well, go ahead,’ said Lucius. ‘I am with you whatever you do. You’ve got the longest head.’
‘I couldn’t manage ter git the despatch through, fer all my long head,’ exclaimed Ephraim admiringly.—‘Come along, then.’
They slipped through the window, and entered the wood in Indian file, Lucius holding on to the skirt of Ephraim’s tunic, lest by any chance they should get separated in the intense darkness, for though the dawn was beginning to break, it would be some time yet before the light would be powerful enough to illuminate the recesses of the forest.
As the stars paled in the sky before the approach of morning, two things happened, both fraught with importance to our fugitives, though they plunged along, steering blindly through the wood, trusting to Providence to guide them aright, and ignorant meanwhile of the turn of events. First, Stonewall Jackson’s infantry began to move across the foot-bridge which he had thrown over the South Fork; and, secondly, Colonel Spriggs, tired of the ineffectual pursuit, and resting his wearied men under the mountain not far from the Confederate lines, sullenly turned his angry face once more in the direction of his own camp. Not that he intended to reach it just yet. His plan—a very simple one—was to lose himself in the wood until the growing day should have revealed to him what the enemy were about. If a battle should begin, he would thus be able to keep clear of it; while, if otherwise, he could fall back upon the camp quietly and at his leisure. But Colonel Spriggs had reckoned without General Jackson, whose plans included the advance of Brigadier-general Taylor’s Louisiana troops through the woods by the side of the mountain, and it was therefore not improbable that Colonel Spriggs would find himself in a very warm corner for once in his life before the day was much older.
Of all these facts and probabilities, however, the boys knew nothing as they held steadily on through the pathless woods, hoping and trusting that their luck would lead them out upon the mountain-side, and at the same time keeping a wary eye for possible surprises or openings in the forest where an enemy might lurk.
The light grew stronger and the woods brighter, and suddenly they came upon just such a place, a natural clearing, where the trees grew thinly and the ground was covered with logs and underbrush. To walk across this did not seem the right thing to do; but to their joy they saw the mountain looming in front of them, and knew that at least their faces were in the right direction.
‘It’ll not do ter cross over thar, Luce,’ said Ephraim in a low voice. ‘We must skirt it. Sh! I hear a sound. Down ter the ground! Thar’s some one comin’ up.’
The wood, indeed, at that part was full of soldiers. The Louisiana men were well forward, but unfortunately the boys had no suspicion that their own men were so close at hand, and only reckoned that they had to deal with their enemies, the Federals, who now appeared to be surrounding them. Far away, but rapidly drawing nearer, they could hear the tramp of stealthy footsteps, and now and again the low hum of subdued voices. Nearer and nearer came the terrifying sounds, and lower and lower they crouched, scarcely daring to breathe.
‘It’s no use trying to skirt it, Luce,’ whispered Ephraim, his mouth close to the boy’s ear. ‘They seem ter be all about us. They’ll crowd us out before we know. We must make a dash across the open before they git up, and try and reach thet other belt er wood. We’ll be safer thar.’
‘There may be more on the other side,’ answered Lucius.
‘I know. We can’t help thet. We’ve got ter make a break fer freedom, and chance the rest.’
They crawled to the edge of the clearing, and after one moment of anxious listening, rose to their feet and stole swiftly into the open.
But no sooner had they broken cover than Ephraim, who was leading, pulled up short, and with a sharp exclamation of surprise dashed back again.
‘What is it?’ cried Lucius, following his friend’s example.
‘Look! look!’ whispered Ephraim excitedly. ‘Look over thar up in the left angle er the clearing.’
‘Where?’ asked Lucius, peering out. ‘Oh!’ as his eyes encountered an all too familiar object. ‘That horrible balloon.’
‘Bullee!’ exclaimed Ephraim excitedly. ‘This is whar we came down yesterday, and thar’s old Blue Bag ready and willin’ ter carry us out er this pesky difficulty. Bullee!’
However willing Blue Bag might be, it was a question whether she would be able to aid her enthusiastic inventor, for what between her travels and the time which had elapsed since she had been hauled down and fastened to the log, a considerable quantity of gas had leaked out of her, not to speak of that which Ephraim had deliberately set free in order to bring about the descent. Still, she floated with a certain amount of buoyancy, and Ephraim believed and hoped that when lightened of every remaining scrap of ballast, she would be capable of rising to a certain height, and of floating them out of the dangerous proximity of the contending forces.
‘She wobbles a bit,’ said Ephraim, eyeing the balloon critically; ‘but I reckon she’s good enuff yit ter take us past the Yanks, and thet’s all we want. It don’t matter whether we come down in Staunton or in 256Winchester, s’ long ez we git cl’ar er Lewiston. Come on, Luce. Thar couldn’t be a better way than this. We’ve all the luck this mornin’.’
He had forgotten Luce’s little peculiarity in the matter of balloons, and with another joyous ‘Come on!’ darted again into the open. The next instant, finding himself alone, he stopped and looked back.
Lucius, deadly pale, with a queer strained look in his eyes, his knees knocking together, and his body swaying from side to side, was standing where Ephraim had left him, apparently unable to proceed.
‘What has struck ye, Luce?’ asked Ephraim anxiously. ‘Why don’t ye come?’
‘I can’t,’ gasped Lucius. ‘I daren’t. It makes me sick to think of it. I’d rather die.’
‘Waal,’ returned Ephraim, hugely disappointed, ‘ef ye can’t, ye can’t. I’d fergotten how ye felt about it. No matter, we’ll make fer the woods on the other side.—Ah, by time!’
He rushed back to Lucius and seized him by the hand. ‘Thar’s no help fer it, Luce,’ he cried. ‘Ye must come onless ye reely want ter die. I kin see the gleam er bay’nets through the trees on the other side. We shall be headed off. Thar’s no other way.’
He dragged Lucius forward with all his might; but the boy hung back, sliding his feet over the ground like a jibbing pony.
So they went until rather more than half the distance had been covered, and then all at once a loud shout was raised behind them, and Ephraim, looking hastily round, uttered a groan of despair.
Out from the coverts at the far end of the clearing rushed Colonel Spriggs, his face aflame with excitement, and waving his sword as he drew near.
As Ephraim saw their terrible enemy running towards them, followed by a number of soldiers, his heart, stout as it was, sank within him; for Lucius, in the spasm of unreasoning terror which the mere sight of the balloon had induced in him, hung back, a dead-weight, and refused to move in response to either force or persuasion. It is said that a person in the grip of severe sea-sickness would, if informed that the ship was about to sink under him, calmly accept the fact, and welcome the change as a blessed relief from present suffering. If this be true, then Lucius was in very much the same state of mind. The recollection of his balloon experiences filled him with a hideous, incapacitating fear. To ascend, he believed, meant death. Death was behind him in another shape, but compared with the former it seemed absolutely enchanting. These were his thoughts, if he thought at all, and in answer to Ephraim’s wild entreaty that he would hurry on, he did but hang back the more, while he muttered huskily words which fell in broken, meaningless syllables from his pale and trembling lips.
While this struggle was going on, the colonel and his men drew nearer and nearer. Spriggs had not recognised the boys at first, but observing from his place of concealment two Federal soldiers, as he supposed, entering the open, had fixed his attention somewhat idly upon them. It was not until the argument began, and he got a good, though distant, look at Ephraim’s hairy face, that it was borne in upon him who these seeming Federals really were. A fierce joy filled his cruel heart. He should not have to return to camp empty-handed after all. ‘Don’t fire!’ he ordered his men. ‘Run them down and take them alive.’
Relaxing for a moment his efforts to drag Lucius to the balloon, Ephraim cast a glance over his shoulder. The colonel and his men were still a couple of hundred yards away, but coming on at top speed. Thirty paces ahead was the balloon—a veritable city of refuge. One vigorous spurt, and they could reach it and be safe. Life was very sweet, and Ephraim could save his—if he went on alone.
But that was not the Grizzly’s way. No such coward thought even entered his brain. Stooping down in front of Lucius, he drew the boy’s arms around his neck, humped him on to his back like a sack of potatoes, and staggering to his feet again, stumbled forward, his body bent almost double under the heavy weight and the effort to preserve the equilibrium of his well-nigh senseless burden.
‘Throttle me round the neck, Luce,’ he cried wildly. ‘Twine yer legs around me. Don’t give in, sonny! Keep up yer sperrits, and I’ll git ye thar!’
Scarcely conscious of what he was doing, Lucius 259obeyed, and Ephraim, straightening up under this better distribution of weight, rushed madly on with long, swinging strides.
On came the colonel. Another hundred yards and they were lost; but gasping and groaning, Ephraim had reached the car, and with scant ceremony tumbled Lucius into its friendly shelter.
His eyes were bulging out of his head, and the sweat poured in big drops from off his face. His shoulder, too, was paining him terribly, and the tremendous exertion had caused the bandages to slip, and set the blood flowing again. But his nerves were steady and his wits clear, and he ran swiftly from side to side of the car, deftly unloosing the knots in the ropes that detained it.
Ping! ping! Two balls from the colonel’s revolver sang through the cordage, and passed clean through the balloon; but with a yell of triumph Ephraim scrambled into the car, and having cast off the loosened ropes, began madly to fling out the bags of ballast.
Out went the sand-bags, one after the other, till but one remained, and then, as if in response to Ephraim’s frantic invocations, old Blue Bag put forth all her remaining strength, and though she rose but slowly, yet after all she rose. Ephraim was wild with delight. He shouted and sang, without knowing in the least what he was doing, and regardless of the bullets, shook his fist at Spriggs as he came panting along. Then there was a slight jerk, and the shouts died away upon the Grizzly’s lips, as the balloon stood still. The grapnel, which Ephraim in his eager haste had only torn from its hold and flung to one side, had dragged again under the log, and now held fast.
Ephraim sprang at the rope where it was attached to the car, and tore at the fastening; but the knot was stiff and badly tied, and in spite of all his efforts, it refused to come undone.
Colonel Spriggs took in the situation at a glance. ‘Ha! ha!’ he laughed savagely; ‘I’ve got you this time. You don’t escape me again.—Hurry up there!’ he called to his men. ‘A dozen of you haul down this confounded balloon. The rest stand ready, and if the rope gives, fire a volley through the car.’
A rush was made towards the balloon, in which a number of men, who had suddenly issued from the woods under the command of a young captain, took part. The remainder of the colonel’s forces halted, and a row of deadly, gleaming tubes was instantly levelled at the car, where Ephraim, lost to all sense of personal danger in his anxiety to save Lucius, tugged and strained at the knot till his nails were split, and blood oozed from the points of his fingers. In vain: it would not yield.
‘Never mind,’ said a voice beside him. ‘We are as good as dead, anyway. Better face them and have done with it.’
Ephraim looked round, bewildered. Lucius was standing by his side, pale, certainly, but with a look rather of relief than otherwise upon his face.
‘By time!’ cried the Grizzly, losing patience for once. ‘I can’t onderstand ye, Luce. One moment ye’re as limp ez a lump er jelly, and the next ye’re ez stiff ez the rammer er a gun. Oh, ef I’d on’y kept Jake Summers’s knife!’
‘Haul them down!’ shouted the colonel, grinning like an ugly imp.
He was standing immediately underneath the car, looking up at the boys. A wild storm of rage shook Ephraim from head to foot, and desisting from his useless struggle with the knot, he stooped to the bottom of the car, and raising the one heavy bag of ballast that remained, sent it with unerring aim full down upon his mocking enemy.
The sand-bag struck the colonel between the neck and shoulder, and felled him like a log; but as he measured his length upon the ground, the car sank to earth; strong hands seized and held it fast, and the young captain, who had been looking on in bewilderment at the singular scene, stepped forward, and parting the ropes, ordered the boys, not unkindly, to get out.
‘Whatever does this mean?’ he began. ‘Are you Federal soldiers, or’——But Colonel Spriggs, rising from the ground, advanced with a face that was absolutely contorted with rage.
‘Hold your tongue, sir!’ he shouted rudely to the captain. ‘I don’t know who you are, nor what you want here.—As for you, you scoundrel,’ he foamed at Ephraim. ‘You filthy rebel, you; I’ll teach you! You’ve played your last prank.’ Then, maddened by the quiet smile upon the Grizzly’s face, he raised his arm and thrust his fist, guarded by the heavy hilt of his sword, violently in the lad’s mouth.
‘Take that, you dog,’ he cried. ‘What do you mean by grinning at me?’
Lucius uttered a cry of rage, and struggled violently with the men who held him on either side; but Ephraim, spitting out a mouthful of blood, coolly replied: ‘’Twould hev made a cat laugh ter see ye 262sprawlin’ thar. I on’y wish it had broken yer neck, ye or’nery skunk.’
‘Colonel!’ exclaimed the young captain, stepping to the front. Then, seeing that his superior was temporarily out of his senses with wrath, and fearful of some dire catastrophe, he turned sharply upon the crowd of soldiers, and ordered them to fall in.
The men, drilled to prompt obedience, obeyed at once; even those who were holding the balloon loosing their grasp and joining their comrades, the colonel’s men in one group, the captain’s in another. Instantly the balloon rose in the air, and the grapnel having been freed in the commotion, soared higher and higher, till at last, caught by a current of wind, it floated over the tree tops towards the south. An hour later it astonished Jackson’s rearguard by descending suddenly among them, a collapsed and miserable wreck.
The colonel was striding up and down, muttering furiously to himself. Now, when he looked up and saw the balloon drifting away, his wrath broke out afresh.
‘What did you let that balloon away for, you fools?’ he shouted. ‘Now we have no ropes to hang these dogs with. What did you do it for?’ He glared at the men, who naturally made no reply.
‘It was by a mistake, colonel,’ the young officer hastened to explain. ‘It was my fault. I gave the order to fall in.’
‘And who are you, sir, to give your orders while I am on the ground?’ stormed the colonel.
‘I addressed my own men,’ replied the officer respectfully; ‘I understand that I command my own company. Your men heard the order, and obeyed it at the same time. Hence the escape of the balloon.’
‘Who are you, sir?’ repeated the colonel. ‘Who are you with your “I command my own company?” You won’t command it much longer if you presume to take so much upon yourself in the presence of your superior officer. I tell you I won’t be answered back. I believe you let that balloon away on purpose.’
The captain flushed deeply. ‘My name is Peters, sir,’ he answered, ‘Captain Peters of the —— Vermont. I received orders to make a detour of these woods, to feel for an advance of the enemy. The scene which has just passed has considerably surprised me. I know nothing of these people, though, from the presence of the balloon, and the fact that they are wearing Federal uniforms, I am led to believe that they are those of whom all the camp is talking. I have no wish to hinder you in the execution of your duty. If you conceive it to be your duty to arrest these fellows, do so, by all means.’
‘I conceive it to be my duty,’ retorted the angry colonel, ‘to let you know that you are too free with your speech, young man. You don’t command anything or anybody while I am on the ground, and just you remember it.’
Captain Peters reddened again, but held his peace. He was a volunteer with little experience, and he really did not know whether he ought to be at the orders of a stray colonel, just because he was a colonel.
‘We’ve got a friend in the captain,’ whispered Ephraim to Lucius. ‘We won’t come to harm ef he kin git the whip hand.’ But this it did not seem that Captain Peters was likely to do.
‘He’ll kill us if he can,’ replied Lucius. ‘Look at his face.’
‘I reckon,’ returned Ephraim simply. ‘The old blunderbuss is mad.’
The colonel resumed his march up and down, probably wrestling with himself; for brute though he was, what manhood there was left in him could not but recoil from the deed he contemplated. For several minutes there was silence, the men standing at ease, and the captain meditatively poking holes in the ground with the point of his sword, and ever and anon casting furtive glances at the two prisoners.
The stillness became oppressive. Only the colonel’s hurried footsteps broke it irregularly, and the sound jarred so much upon Ephraim’s tense nerves that he felt he must speak at whatever cost.
‘See hyar, cunnel,’ he called out. ‘It’s cruel ter keep us standing hyar. What ye goin’ ter do with us? Remember we ain’t done ye any harm, ’ceptin’ thet whack I ketched ye jest now, and any wan would hev done ez much, makin’ a break fer freedom.—Cunnel!’
Captain Peters made Ephraim a swift sign to be silent; but the colonel, after one prolonged and malevolent stare, continued his march as though he had not heard a word.
‘The pesky critter!’ muttered Ephraim. ‘Hold up, Luce. He dassn’t do nuthin’, and he knows it too, right well. Thet’s what’s makin’ him so mad. He’d like ter chaw us up inter little bits, on’y he dassn’t.’
He stopped obedient to the captain’s signals, but the next moment his roving eye caught the gleam of gun-barrels in among the trees in the section of wood they had left when they ran for the balloon, and here and there a face peeped out and was rapidly withdrawn; 265so rapidly that the Grizzly rubbed his eyes and asked himself whether they had not deceived him. ‘It looked like ’em,’ he said to himself; ‘but it can’t be. How can it be? Oh, I reckon it’s some more Yanks comin’ ter see the fun.’ He held his tongue, however, and, for want of something better to do, took a piece of string from his pocket, and twisted it nervously round and round his fingers, the while he kept his eyes steadfastly fixed upon the forest opposite. But if he had seen anything, there was nothing to be seen now. Suddenly the colonel halted in his walk, turned, and approached them.
‘Now it’s comin’,’ thought Ephraim, twirling his string more rapidly than ever. Lucius stood perfectly still and erect, his hands locked behind his back, and his eyes staring straight in front of him. Whatever his feelings, they did not appear upon the surface.
The colonel’s swarthy face was deeply flushed, his black, deep-set eyes glittered menacingly under their bushy, overhanging brows, and he gnawed persistently at his long moustache. It was evident that in the struggle which had been going on in his mind, the evil had conquered the good.
Captain Peters drew himself up as the colonel neared him, and waited silently at attention.
‘Captain Peters,’ began Spriggs, speaking rapidly in a husky voice, whether the result of shame or of his still blazing wrath it would be hard to say, ‘since you seem to have taken a more proper view of your position, I will condescend to explain matters to you. You were right in your surmise that these fellows are those who arrived yesterday in that balloon for the purpose of making observations of our position. They 266escaped, as you have doubtless heard, and they have been retaken, as you now see.’
Captain Peters bowed.
‘Well, sir,’ went on the colonel, ‘I presume you know the punishment in these cases, though your experience is probably not very great.’
He sneered out the last words, and still Captain Peters did not reply, though his brown face became a shade paler.
‘We will take that for granted, then,’ pursued the colonel. ‘Very well, sir, as, owing to your hasty assumption of the command, that punishment cannot be carried out in the usual manner, you will take a firing party fifty yards to the right, set these two rascals twenty paces in front, and—shoot them.’ The word came out with a snap as though the demon which possessed the man had forcibly expelled it.
‘Colonel!’ ejaculated the astounded Captain Peters. ‘Shoot them! Why—why——Has the charge been proved?’
‘Your duty is to obey, sir, not to ask questions,’ said the colonel with a hang-dog look. ‘Call your men forward at once.’
‘But, colonel,’ protested Captain Peters, ‘I beg your pardon, but I think I should be informed why I am ordered to do this. You have your own men, and’——
‘Obey your orders, sir. It is just to teach you that lesson, and for nothing else,’ thundered the colonel, now more violently inflamed than ever, because of the captain’s evident reluctance. ‘Obey your orders, and at once, or I’ll have you disrated. Do you know who I am, sir?’
But Captain Peters held his ground like a man, and ventured on another protest.
‘One of them is a mere boy, colonel,’ he said.
‘Boy or no boy,’ returned the colonel sullenly, ‘take him out, and shoot him along with that hairy-faced baboon there. He knew what he was doing when he turned spy, I’ll be bound.’
‘But I don’t see’——began Captain Peters.
‘Never mind what you see, or what you don’t see, sir,’ vociferated the colonel. ‘I tell you that they are a couple of rascally spies. I had the proof of it in my hand.’
‘Thet’s a lie,’ interjected Ephraim most injudiciously at this point. ‘We came down here because we couldn’t help it, not because we wanted ter. He didn’t find any proof.’
Captain Peters looked hesitatingly at the colonel, who hastened to say: ‘From the pocket of that fellow was taken a paper covered with details of our movements. That of itself is proof enough.’
‘Thet’s another,’ cried Ephraim. ‘Thar warn’t nuthin’ but stale news on thet paper. Don’t ye listen ter him, captain. Ye take the resk. We han’t had any trial. He dassn’t shoot us ’thout’n a trial.’
‘Silence!’ commanded the colonel.—‘It may satisfy you, Captain Peters, since you require so much satisfying, that I have General Shields’s express orders to deal summarily with these persons, when and wherever I might find them. Now will you do your duty? I don’t choose to be kept waiting here all the morning.’
This was decisive, and though the captain turned a sympathetic eye upon the prisoners, he had no further objections to advance. ‘Company! Attention!’ he shouted; but Lucius broke from the men who were standing on either side of him, and rushed forward.
‘Captain,’ he cried, ‘that man is a liar. Here is General Shields’s own order.’ He thrust a paper into the captain’s hand.
‘Bullee!’ chuckled Ephraim. ‘So ye got thet, too, Luce. By time! thet’ll upset him.’
Captain Peters took the paper and read aloud: ‘“Colonel Spriggs—If you come up with the two men who escaped from the balloon this morning, you will detain them as prisoners, and bring them before me without taking further action.”—This appears to be addressed to you, colonel,’ he finished, looking up.
Spriggs advanced upon him, and simply tore the paper from his hand. ‘You impertinent puppy,’ he raved, ‘if it is addressed to me, what do you mean by reading it?’ He glanced over the paper and his countenance changed, but he recovered himself. ‘You greenhorn,’ he continued bitterly, ‘did it never occur to you to ask yourself how this precious document came into that rascal’s hands? Are you familiar with General Shields’s handwriting?’
‘No,’ answered the captain; ‘but’——
‘Well, I am, sir, and I declare this thing to be an impudent forgery. Pah! You call yourself a soldier, and allow yourself to be taken in by such a trick.’
‘It is not a forgery,’ cried Lucius. ‘Certainly, the general did not know that we were the escaped prisoners, but he gave my chum the paper, all the same. It’s the truth, upon my honour.’
Captain Peters looked puzzled, as well he might. ‘I don’t understand you,’ he began, when the colonel at a white heat broke in again.
‘Captain Peters,’ he roared, ‘do your duty.’
Captain Peters hesitated for the last time. He was very young, very sympathetic, and he did not know his position with regard to Colonel Spriggs. But he did know what would be the consequences to himself of disobedience on what was practically the field of battle. Finally he said: ‘Colonel, this appears to be a very curious and unusual case. Would it not be better, if I may say so, to refer it back to the provost-marshal?’
For an instant the colonel paused. It appeared that one chance more was to be given him. Then his good angel turned away and left him, and a black lie dropped from his lips. His voice became dangerously calm. ‘I do not know that I am bound to make explanations to you, Captain Peters,’ he said; ‘but I have done so out of consideration for your extreme youth and inexperience. It may be enough for you to know that I carry the provost-marshal’s order, countersigned by General Shields, and dated 1 A.M. to-day, to hang these fellows as soon as possible after their capture, should I succeed in taking them; and that document, sir, is not bogus like the one you have just read. Now, for the last time, will you obey orders?’
Captain Peters wheeled round and faced his men.
‘Company!’ he cried. ‘Attention! You will remain drawn up in line. Your orders are to keep a sharp lookout for the enemy. You will take no part in this business, if you are men. That is my last word to you as your captain.’ He turned about and faced the infuriated colonel. ‘No, sir; I will not obey your orders,’ he said with flaming cheeks. ‘Do your murderous work yourself, if you must do it. I am 270a soldier, not an executioner. There is my sword. I am prepared to take the consequences.’
‘Bullee!’ burst from Ephraim, while a low murmur of approval ran down the line of Vermonters. But the colonel, livid with rage, said as he almost snatched the sword from the young officer’s hand: ‘Very good, sir. Fall back! I shall know how to deal with you when the time comes.—Sergeant Plowes!’ A low-browed, thick-set fellow stepped forward and saluted. ‘Carry out the orders which Captain Peters has refused to execute, and be sharp about it.’
In every company of men there are some souls of the baser sort, ever ready to curry favour with those above them. The colonel had made a careful selection from his regiment, when he set out to hunt the fugitives down, and he knew that there was no fear of his orders being disobeyed, whatever their character. Had not Captain Peters appeared upon the scene it would have been all over with Ephraim and Lucius long ago, but the presence of the junior officer had inspired Colonel Spriggs with the mean idea of forcing some one to share the responsibility of the execution with him. Foiled in this, he fell back upon the men he had brought.
The sergeant also knew his men, and having named six, ordered them to step to the front. They did so. The remainder of the company stood at attention. Their sympathies were with the prisoners, but the fear of the provost-marshal was before them, and as the colonel had absented himself from them for about an hour after midnight, they could not know that he had lied in saying that he had seen that dreaded functionary.
‘Fall in between the second and third file,’ said the sergeant to the prisoners.
Lucius stepped forward and took his place. His head was held proudly up, and on his pale lips was a set smile. His hands were still locked behind his back, so no one saw how convulsively his fingers were twined together.
‘Now then, you,’ said Plowes roughly to Ephraim, catching him by the arm.
But the Grizzly broke from his hold, and rushed up to the colonel. ‘Cunnel!’ he cried, in heart-rending tones, ‘stop before ye do this bloody deed. I ain’t keerin’ what ye do ter me, ez I told ye before. But thet boy thar, thet Luce, he’s ez innercent ez a lamb. I made the balloon jest fer ter pleasure him, and he didn’t want ter come; but I fetched him along. He’s done nuthin’. Cunnel, ez God is above ye, don’t harm him.’ His voice rose to a shriek. ‘Cunnel! cunnel! Hold yer hand. Don’t shoot him. He’s his mother’s only son. He’s my friend, and I love him. And I’ve brought him ter his death.’ He covered his face with his hands and sobbed.
‘Take him away,’ said the colonel abruptly.
‘Cunnel!’ screamed Ephraim, struggling with the sergeant. ‘Spare him! Spare him! Ef ye will, I’ll jine yer army and fight against my own side till I drop. Ye’ll git one man more thet way.—Oh, what am I sayin’? I don’t want ter git off myself. On’y let him go! On’y let him go!’
‘For shame, Grizzly!’ called Lucius. ‘Don’t degrade yourself by talking to the ruffian.’
‘Oh, Luce, Luce!’ wailed Ephraim, suffering the sergeant to lead him away. ‘What shall I do? What 272shall I do? I brought it on ye. Oh, fergive me! Fergive me!’
‘Files! ‘Shun!’ cried Plowes, shoving Ephraim into his place. ‘Right face! Fifty paces to the front! Quick—march!’
The melancholy procession started, Lucius still holding his head high, and Ephraim crying and whining like a child that has been whipped.
‘Don’t cry, Grizzly,’ said Lucius, taking him by the arm. ‘They’ll think you’re a funk. I know better; but don’t give them the chance to say so. Don’t worry over me. It’s not your fault. I ought to have remembered what my General said. It’s a big price to pay for being disobedient; but it’s my fault, not yours. Oh, don’t cry so, dear old Grizzly!’
Their positions were curiously reversed. The soft, young southern voice was calm and clear, there was no shrinking in the bright blue eyes, and the quivering coward of half an hour before now marched to his death with a step as steady and bearing as firm as that of any of the cavaliers whose blood ran in his veins; while his comrade, all his steadfast courage gone, shuffled along, his gaunt frame seeming to shrivel in his clothes as he went, and his queer, old-looking face drawn with the agony of his fear and self-reproach. Only there was this difference—Lucius was thinking of himself, and that nerved him. Ephraim was thinking of Lucius, and that unmanned him.
‘Files! Halt! Front! Order—arms!’ shouted the sergeant, and the men stood still.
‘Now then, you two,’ said Plowes, ‘come with me.’ His rough heart was touched for once in his life by what he had just heard, and he muttered as they marched along: ‘I’ll make it thirty paces, and ye kin take yer chance.’ Such a favour! And having said thus much, he placed them and went back without another word.
Lucius straightened himself up and once more locked his fingers behind his back. ‘Hold up, Grizzly!’ he said. ‘Don’t let them think that you’re afraid.’
Ephraim bent his lank body and kissed Lucius on the cheek.
‘Good-bye, Luce,’ he said. ‘Maybe God’ll let me meet ye by-and-by.’
He raised his head, and swift as lightning a change came over his face, and a flame of joy sparkled in his eyes as he stared over the heads of the firing party at the woods beyond them.
Plowes had reached his men. ‘‘Shun!’ he called. ‘At thirty paces—prepare to fire a volley! Ready!’
‘Ef I kin on’y gain an ounce of time,’ muttered the Grizzly, with a sob in his throat.—‘Hold on!’ he shouted suddenly. ‘I can’t abear it. Wait till I blind our eyes.’
‘Blind ’em, then, and be quick about it,’ returned Plowes sullenly; for he was getting heartily sick of the job he had taken in hand.
‘I’ll not have my eyes bound,’ declared Lucius, pushing Ephraim’s hand away.
‘It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask of ye,’ stammered Ephraim, scarcely able to speak, and Lucius submitted.
‘Now then, sharp with your own,’ called Plowes.
Ephraim drew out his handkerchief and fumbled with it in his hands, but all the time he scanned the opposite woods. Then the light died out of his eyes again, for save for the waving boughs that swept 274gently to and fro in the morning breeze, there was nothing to be seen.
‘Now then,’ shouted Plowes; and Lucius muttered: ‘Have you got your handkerchief on?’
‘Yes, sonny,’ answered Ephraim soothingly, as he glanced once more towards the woods. ‘Thar they air, the boys in gray,’ he murmured. ‘Why don’t they come out? Am I dreaming? It’s too late! too late! One of us must go under. I reckon it’ll hev ter be me.’ Then dashing the handkerchief to the ground beside him, he placed his right arm round Luce’s shoulders and roared at the top of his voice: ‘Fire, boys! Fire!’
‘Ready!’ called Plowes, astonished at this mode of address, for he supposed it to be meant for him. ‘Present!‘——
But ere the fatal word could cross the sergeant’s lips, Ephraim swung suddenly round in front of Lucius and clasped him in his arms. The Grizzly’s broad back was turned to the platoon, and his body covered the friend he loved from the deadly volley.
But it never came. For before a trigger of the six rifles could be drawn, a line of flame spurted from the opposite woods, and a frightful roar of musketry swallowed up all other sounds. Lucius felt a sharp agony of pain in his right ankle, and then, with a dead, heavy weight bearing him irresistibly backwards, fell fainting to the ground with the wild rebel yell ringing in his ears.
The battle of Port Republic had begun. For the second time Lucius and Ephraim had stood up to the fire of their own men, and this time they had gone down.
When we found him, he was lying completely covered by the body of the elder boy, and if we had not come up when we did, he must have been suffocated. The sergeant of the firing party, a rough brute, who was captured, and who explained the matter to us and pointed out the boys, said, with tears in his eyes, that he had never seen such a piece of heroism. Ephraim had evidently caught sight of some of our men in the wood, and knew that in a moment or two the fight must begin. At the same time he believed that the movement would be too late to stop the fire of the platoon, and even as the word was upon the sergeant’s lips, flung himself in front of Lucius, deliberately offering his own life to save that of his friend. As a matter of fact, all his wounds are from our men and in the back; but for all that, they are as glorious as any received in front by our brave fellows to-day.’
‘“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friend.” It was splendid!’
The full, earnest voice stirred a faint memory in Luce’s dull brain. He looked wearily up into the kind face bent anxiously over him. ‘My General!’ he murmured, and closed his eyes again.
Stonewall Jackson laid his hand caressingly upon the fair, curly head.
‘Poor fellow!’ he said. ‘Will he pull through, doctor, do you think?’
‘Oh yes; I trust so,’ replied the surgeon. ‘His ankle is badly shattered, and he will limp for the rest of his days; but I think we shall be able to save the foot.’
‘And Ephraim?’ asked the General.
‘Ah!’
The mournful sigh smote heavily on Luce’s ear. He was still drowsy and stupid from the combined effect of shock and the chloroform which had been administered to him before the ball had been extracted from his leg; but at the sound of that dreary monosyllable his senses quickened, he opened his eyes again, and looked vacantly round.
For an instant the unfamiliar surroundings of the field hospital confused him; but in a flash full consciousness returned, the whole of the terrible scene in which he had lately borne a part rose before him, and with a shriek he struggled up on his mattress, supporting himself upon his hands.
‘Ephraim! Ephraim!’ he wailed. ‘Where are you? You are not dead. You can’t be dead. Oh, and you died for me!’
Then, as his eyes fell upon something stretched beside him, very calm and still, he writhed round, regardless of the pain of his wound, and flung himself 279upon the quiet form, raining tears and kisses upon the white, pathetic face.
Was it a dream? The pale lips parted in a feeble smile, and a weak voice, almost drowned in the groans of the wounded and dying, whispered faintly: ‘Hold up, Luce! Keep up yer sperrits! I’ll git ye thar!’
It was the fall of 1862, and the tender light of the exquisite Indian summer lay on the deep Virginian woods and glorified the rolling hills of the Blue Ridge. In a secluded part of the beautiful grounds of Markham Hall, a tall, thin young man, with a white, wasted face, reclined in a comfortable wheel-chair, dreamily enjoying the warm sunshine, and inhaling the fragrance of the ripe, red apples that hung from the laden boughs in the orchard.
Presently a fair-haired boy came through the trees. In one hand he bore a bowl of broth, and with the other he supported himself upon a stick as he limped along.
‘Hello, Grizzly!’ cried the new-comer. ‘How do you feel now? Here’s your soup. Aren’t you ready for it?’
‘I reckon!’ answered Ephraim, smiling in his own old way. ‘Ef this weather holds, I’ll be around agen in no time. My! It’s jest glorious ter be hyar. But what a lot of trouble I’m givin’ ye all, Luce. I ain’t wuth it, ye know.’
Still thinking of others and careless of himself, the grand old Grizzly. Lucius flushed deeply.
‘See here, Grizzly,’ he said, setting down the bowl upon a rustic table, and placing his arm affectionately round his friend’s neck, ‘don’t you ever say that again. If there is anything good enough for you in the wide world, the Markhams have got to find it out. Just you remember that. Where should I be to-day if it hadn’t been for you? Lying under the ground alongside that pesky colonel, as you called him.’ Then as Ephraim was silent, he went on: ‘I can’t do much, you know, Grizzly, for I’m only a boy, and a lame one at that; but I’ve got a piece of news for you, just to show that we are not ungrateful. Father has arranged with Mr Coulter that, as soon as you are able for it, you are to go into the works as assistant mechanical engineer. Then, when the war is through, he’s going to send you to college, so the loss of the pile doesn’t matter after all. Meantime, till you go to college, you are to live with us.’
Ephraim’s great eyes swam in tears. He caught Luce’s hand in both his own and fondled it.
‘Shucks! Luce,’ he muttered brokenly. ‘What a fuss ter make about a little thing. I han’t never took any count er thet, seein’ it war done fer you.’