CHAPTER V. HUNTED
Dick slept the whole night through, which was a very good thing for him,because he needed it, and because he could have made no progress in thethick darkness through the marshy wilderness. No human beings saw him,but the wild animals took more than one look. Not all were little. Onebig clumsy brute, wagging his head in a curious, comic way, shuffled upfrom the edge of the swamp, sniffed the strange human odor, and, stillwagging his comic head, came rather close to the sleeping boy. Then theblack bear decided to be afraid, and lumbered back into the bushes.
An owl perched on a bough almost over Dick's head, but this was game fartoo large for Mr. Owl's beak and talons, and he soon flew away in searchof something nearer his size. A raccoon on a bough stared with glowingeyes and then slid out of sight.
Man, although he had just come, became king of this swamp, king for thenight. The prowling beasts and birds of prey, after their first look,gave Dick all the berth he needed, and he did not awake until a brightsun was well above the edge of the earth. Then he rose, shook himself,much like an animal coming from its lair, and bathed his face in alittle stream which ran down the hill into the swamp. It was swollen andpainful from the mosquito bites, but he resolved not to think of them,and ate breakfast from the saddlebags, after which he studied his map alittle.
Baggage and rifle on shoulder, he pursued a course south by east. Therewas a strong breeze which gave him a rest from the dreaded insects, andhe pushed on with vigorous footsteps. The country remained thoroughlywild, and he soon had proof of it. Another deer, this time obviouslystarted up by himself, sprang from the canebrake and darted away in thewoods. He noted tracks of bear and resolved some day when the war wasover to come there hunting.
His course led him again from firm ground into a region of marshes andlagoons, which he crossed with difficulty, arriving about an hour beforenoon at a considerable river, one that would require swimming unless hefound a ford somewhere near. He was very weary from the journey throughthe marsh and, sitting on a log, he scraped from his clothes a portionof the mud they had accumulated on the way.
He was a good swimmer, but he had his arms and ammunition to keep dry,and he did not wish to trust himself afloat on the deep current. Wadingwould be far better, and, when his strength was restored, he walked upthe bank in search of a shallower place.
He came soon to a point, where the cliff was rather high, although itwas clothed in dense forest here as elsewhere, and when he reached thecrest he heard a sound like the swishing of waters. Alert and suspicioushe sank down among the trees and peered over the bank. Two men in acanoe were paddling in a leisurely manner along the stream.
The men were in faded and worn Confederate uniforms, and Dick sawtheir rifles lying in the bottom of the boat. He also saw that theyhad strong, resolute faces. They were almost opposite him and they wereclosely scanning the forest on his side of the river. He was glad thathe had not tried to swim the stream, and he was glad too that he hadkept so well under cover. The men in the canoe were surely keen of eye,and they must be a patrol.
He sank closer to the earth and did not stir. One of the watchers drewin his paddle and took up his rifle, while the other propelled the canoevery slowly. It seemed that they expected something or somebody, and itsuddenly occurred to him that it might be he. He felt a little shiver ofapprehension. How could they know he was coming? It was mysterious andalarming.
He waited for them to pass down the river and out of sight, but at thecurve they turned and came back against the stream, the man with therifle in his hand still keenly watching the western shore, where Dicklay hidden. Neither of them spoke, and the only sound was the swishingof the paddle. The hoot of an owl came from the depths of the forestbehind him and he knew that it was a signal. The hair of his headlifted.
He felt the touch of the supernatural. The invisible pursuer was behindhim again, and the silent soldiers held the crossing. The hoot of theowl came again, a little nearer now. He was tempted to rise and run, buthis will held him back from such folly. His unknown enemy could pursue,because his boots left a deep trail in the soft earth. That was why hehad been able to follow again in the morning.
He crept back some distance from the river and then, rising, retreatedcautiously up the stream. He caught glimpses of the water twice throughthe bushes, and each time the canoe was moving up the river also, oneman paddling and the other, rifle on his arm, watching the westernshore.
Dick had a feeling that he was trapped. Colonel Winchester had been wiseto make him wear his uniform, because it was now certain that hewas going to be taken, and death had always been the punishment ofa captured spy. He put down the thought resolutely, and began to runthrough the forest parallel with the river. If it were only the firmhard ground of the North he could hide his trail from the man behindhim, but here the soil was so soft that every footstep left a deep mark.Yet he might find fallen trees thrown down by hurricanes, and in a fewminutes he came to a mass of them. He ran deftly from trunk to trunk,and then continued his flight among the bushes. It broke his trail lessthan a rod, but it might take his pursuer ten minutes to recover it, andnow ten minutes were precious.
The soil grew harder and he made better speed, but when he lookedthrough the foliage he saw the canoe still opposite him. It was easy forthem, on the smooth surface of the river, to keep pace with him, if suchwas their object. Furious anger took hold of him. He knew that he mustsoon become exhausted, while the men in the canoe would scarcely feelweariness. Then came the idea.
The canoe was light and thin almost like the birch bark Indian canoe ofthe north, and he was a good marksman. It was a last chance, but raisinghis rifle he fired the heavy bullet directly at the bottom of the canoe.As the echo of the first shot was dying he slipped in a cartridge andsent a second at the same target. He did not seek to kill the men, hisobject was the canoe, and as he ran rapidly away he saw it fill withwater and sink, the two soldiers in the stream swimming toward thewestern shore.
Dick laughed to himself. He had won a triumph, although he did not yetknow that it would amount to anything. At any rate the men could nolonger glide up and down the river at their leisure looking for him tocome forth from the forest.
He knew that the shots would bring the single pursuer at full speed,and, as he had saved some ounces of strength, he now ran at his utmostspeed. The river curved again and just beyond the curve it seemedshallow to him. He plunged in at once, and waded rapidly, holding hisrifle, pistols and saddlebags above his head. He was in dread lest hereceive a bullet in his back, but he made the farther shore, ran intothe dense undergrowth and sank down dripping and panting.
He had made the crossing but he did not forget to be ready. He rapidlyreloaded his rifle, and fastened the pistols at his belt. Then he lookedthrough the bushes at the river. The two canoemen, water running fromthem in streams, were on the other bank, though a little farther downthe stream. He believed that they were no longer silent. He fondlyimagined that they were cursing hard, if not loud.
His relief was so great that, forgetting his own bedraggled condition,he laughed. Then he looked again to see what they were going to do. Asmall man, his face shaded by the broad brim of a hat, emerged from thewoods and joined them. Dick was too far away to see his face, evenhad it been uncovered, but his figure looked familiar. Nevertheless,although he tried hard, he could not recall where he had seen himbefore. But, as he carried a long-barreled rifle, Dick was sure thatthis was his unknown pursuer. There had certainly been collusionalso between him and the men in the boat, as the three began to talkearnestly, and to point toward the woods on the other side.
Dick felt that he had avenged himself upon the boatmen, but his ragerose high against the little man under the broad-brimmed hat. It was hewho had followed him so long, and who had tried ruthlessly to kill him.The lad's rifle was of the most improved make and a bullet would reach.He was tempted to try it, but prudence came to his rescue. Still lyingclose he watched them. He felt sure that they would soon be hunting forhi
s footprints, but he resolved to stay in his covert, until they beganthe crossing of the river, to which his trail would lead when they foundit.
He saw them cease talking and begin searching among the woods. It mightbe at least a half-hour before they found the trail and his strengthwould be restored fully then. His sinking of the canoe had been inreality a triumph, and so he remained at ease, watching the ford.
He was quite sure that when his trail was found the little man wouldbe the one to find it, and sure enough at the end of a half-hour theweazened figure led down to the ford. Dick might have shot one of themin the water, but he had no desire to take life. It would serve nopurpose, and, refreshed and strengthened, he set out through the foresttoward Jackson.
He came to a brook soon, and, remembering the old device of Indiantimes, he waded in it at least a half-mile. When he left it he passedthrough a stretch of wood, crossed an old cotton field and entered thewoods again. Then he sat down and ate from his store, feeling that hehad shaken off his pursuers. Another examination of his map followed. Hehad kept fixed in his mind the point at which he was to find Hertford,and, being a good judge of direction, he felt sure that he could yetreach it.
The sun, now high and warm, had dried his clothing, and, after the food,he was ready for another long march. He struck into a path and walkedalong it, coming soon to a house which stood back a little distance froma road into which the path merged. A man and two women standing on theporch stared at him curiously, but he pretended to take no notice. Afterlong exposure to weather, blue uniforms did not differ much from gray,and his own was now covered with mud. He could readily pass as a soldierof the Confederacy unless they chose to ask too many questions.
"From General Pemberton's army?" called the man, when he was oppositethe house.
Dick nodded and stepped a little faster.
"Won't you stop for a bite and fresh water with friends of the cause?"
"Thanks, but important dispatches. Must hurry." They repeated theinvitation. He shook his head, and went on. He did not look back, but hewas sure that they stared at him as long as he was in sight. Then, forsafety's sake, he left the road and entered the wood once more.
He had now come to country comparatively free from swamp and marsh, andpursued his way through a great forest, beautiful with live oaks andmagnolias. In the afternoon he took a long rest by the side of a clearspring, where he drew further upon the store of food in his saddlebags,which he calculated held enough for another day. After that he wouldhave to forage upon the country.
He would sleep the second night in the forest, his blanket beingsufficient protection, unless rain came, which he would have to endureas best he could. Another look at his map and he believed that on thefollowing afternoon he could reach Hertford.
He took the remaining food from his saddlebags, wrapped it in hisblanket, and strapped the pack on his back. Then, in order to lightenhis burden, he hung the saddlebags on the bough of a tree and abandonedthem, after which he pressed forward through the woods with renewedspeed.
He came at times to the edge of the forest and saw houses in the fields,but he always turned back among the trees. He could find only enemieshere, and he knew that it was his plan to avoid all human beings.Precept and example are of great power and he recalled again much thathe had heard of his famous ancestor, Paul Cotter. He had been compelledto fight often for his life and again to flee for it from an enemy whoreserved torture and death for the captured. Dick felt that he must doas well, and the feeling increased his vigor and courage.
A little later he heard a note, low, faint and musical. It was behindhim, but he was sure at first that it was made by negroes singing. Itwas a pleasing sound. The negro had a great capacity for happiness, andDick as a young lad had played with and liked the young colored lads ofhis age.
But as he walked on he heard the low, musical note once more and, asbefore, directly behind him. It seemed a little nearer. He paused andlistened. It came again, always nearer and nearer, and now it did notseem as musical as before. There was a sinister thread in that flowingnote, and suddenly Dick remembered.
He was a daring horseman and with his uncle and cousin and others atPendleton he had often ridden after the fox. It was the note of thehounds, but of bloodhounds, and this time they were following him. Fromthe first he had not the slightest doubt of it. Somebody, some traitorin the Union camp, knew the nature of his errand, and was hanging on tothe pursuit like death.
Dick knew it was the little man whom he had seen by the river, andperhaps the canoemen were with him--he would certainly have comrades,or his own danger would be too great--and they had probably obtained thebloodhounds at a farmhouse. Nearly everybody in Mississippi kept hounds.
The long whining note came again and much nearer. Now all music was gonefrom it for Dick. It was ferocious, like the howl of the wolf seekingprey, and he could not restrain a shudder. His danger had returned withtwofold force, because the hounds would unerringly lead his pursuersthrough the forest as fast as they could follow.
He did not yet despair. A new resolution was drawn from the depths ofhis courage. He did not forget that he was a good marksman and hehad both rifle and pistols. He tried to calculate from that whining,ferocious note how many hounds were pursuing, and he believed they werenot many. Now he prepared for battle, and, as he ran, he kept his eye onthe ground in order that he might choose his own field.
He saw it presently, a mass of fallen timber thrown together by a greatstorm, and he took his place on the highest log, out of reach of aleaping hound. Then, lying almost flat on the log and with his rifleready, he waited, his heart beating hard with anger that he should bepursued thus like an animal.
The howling of the hounds grew more ferocious, and it was tinged withjoy. The trail had suddenly grown very hot, and they knew that thequarry was just before them. Dick caught a good view of a long, lean,racing figure bounding among the trees, and he fired straight at a spotbetween the blazing eyes. The hound fell without a sound, and with equalease he slew the second. The third and last drew back, although the ladheard the distant halloo of men seeking to drive him on.
Dick sprang from his log and ran through the forest again. He knewthat the lone hound after his first recoil would follow, but he had hisreloaded rifle and he had proved that he knew how to shoot. It wouldplease him for the hound to come within range.
When he took to renewed flight the hound again whined ferociously andDick glanced back now and then seeking a shot. Once he caught a glimpseof two or three dusky figures some distance behind the hound, urginghim on, and his heart throbbed with increased rage. If they presented anequal target he would fire at them rather than the hound.
He could run no longer, and his gait sank to a walk. His very exhaustionbrought him his opportunity, as the animal came rapidly within range,and Dick finished him with a single lucky shot. Then, making an extremeeffort, he fled on a long time, and, while he was fleeing, he saw thesun set and the night come.
The strain upon him had been so great that his nerves and brain wereunsteady. Although the forest was black with night he saw it through ablood-red mist. Something in him was about to burst, and when he saw ahuman figure rising up before him it broke and he fell.
Dick was unconscious a long time. But when he awoke he found himselfwrapped in a blanket, while another was doubled under his head. It waspitchy dark, but he beheld the outline of a human figure, sitting by hisside. He strove to rise, but a powerful hand on his shoulder pushed himback, though gently, and a low voice said:
"Stay still, Mr. Mason. We mustn't make any sound now!"
Dick recognized in dim wonder the voice of Sergeant Daniel Whitley. Howhe had come there at such a time, and what he was doing now was past allguessing, but Sergeant Whitley was a most competent man. He knew morethan most generals, and he was filled with the lore of the woods. Hewould trust him. He let his head sink back on the folded blanket, andhis heavy eyes closed again.
When Dick roused from his stupor the serg
eant was still by his side,and, as his eyes grew used to the darkness, he noticed that Whitley wasreally kneeling rather than sitting, crouched to meet danger, his fingeron the trigger of a rifle. Dick's brain cleared and he sat up.
"What is it, Sergeant?" he whispered.
"I see you're all right now, Mr. Mason," the sergeant whispered back,"but be sure you don't stir."
"Is it the Johnnies?"
"Lean over a little and look down into that dip."
Dick did so, and saw four men hunting among the trees, and the onewho seemed to be their leader was the little weazened fellow, with thegreat, flap-brimmed hat.
"They're looking for your trail," whispered the sergeant, "but theywon't find it. It's too dark, even for a Sioux Indian, and I've seenthem do some wonderful things in trailing."
"I seem to have met you in time, Sergeant."
"So you did, sir, but more of that later. Perhaps you'd better lie downagain, as you're weak yet. I'll tell you all they do."
"I'll take your advice, Sergeant, but am I sound and whole? I feltsomething in me break, and then the earth rose up and hit me in theface."
"I reckon it was just the last ounce of breath going out of you with apop. They're hunting hard, Mr. Mason, but they can't pick up the traceof a footstep. Slade must be mad clean through."
"Slade! Slade! Who's Slade?"
"Slade is a spy partly, and an outlaw mostly, 'cause he often works onhis own hook. He's the weazened little fellow with so much hat-brim, andhe's about twenty different kinds of a demon. You've plenty of reason tofear him, and it's lucky we've met."
"It's more than luck for me, Sergeant. It's salvation. I believe itwouldn't have been half as hard on me if somebody had been with me, andyou're the first whom I would have chosen. Are they still in the dip,Sergeant?"
"No, they've passed to the slope on the right, and I think they'll goover the hill. We're safe here so long as we remain quiet; that is, safefor the time. Slade will hang on as long as there's a possible chance tofind us."
"Sergeant, if they do happen to stumble upon us in the dark I hopeyou'll promise to do one thing for me."
"I'll do anything I can, Mr. Mason."
"Kill Slade first. That little villain gives me the horrors. I believethe soul of the last bloodhound I shot has been reincarnated in him."
"All right, Mr. Mason," returned the sergeant, placidly, "if we have tofight I'll make sure of Slade at once. Is there anybody else you'd likespecially to have killed?"
"No thank you, Sergeant. I don't hate any of the others, and I supposethey'd have dropped the chase long ago if it hadn't been for this fellowwhom you call Slade. Now, I think I'll lie quiet, while you watch."
"Very good, sir. I'll tell you everything I can see. They're passingover the hill out of sight, and if they return I won't fail to let youknow."
Sergeant Whitley, a man of vast physical powers, hardened by the longservice of forest and plain, was not weary at all, and, in the dusk, helooked down with sympathy and pity at the lad who had closed his eyes.He divined the nature of the ordeal through which he had gone. Dick'sface, still badly swollen from the bites of the mosquitoes, showedall the signs of utter exhaustion. The sergeant could see, despite thedarkness, that it was almost the face of the dead, and he knew thathappy chance had brought him in the moment of Dick's greatest need.
He ceased to whisper, because Dick, without intending it, had goneto sleep again. Then the wary veteran scouted in a circle about theirrefuge, but did not discover the presence of an enemy.
He sat down near the sleeping lad, with his rifle between his knees,and watched the moon come out. Owing to his wilderness experience he hadbeen chosen also to go on a scout toward Jackson, though he preferred tomake his on foot, and the sound of Dick's shots at the hounds had drawnhim to an observation which finally turned into a rescue.
After midnight the sergeant slept a little while, but he never awakenedDick until it was almost morning. Then he told him that he would go withhim on the mission to Hertford, and Dick was very glad.
"What's become of Slade and his men?" asked Dick.
"I don't know," replied the sergeant, "but as they lost the trail in thenight, it's pretty likely they're far from here. At any rate they're notbothering us just now. How're you feeling, Mr. Mason?"
"Fine, except that my face still burns."
"We'll have to hold up a Confederate house somewhere and get oil ofpennyroyal. That'll cure you, but I guess you've learned now, Mr.Mason, that mosquitoes in a southern swamp are just about as deadly asbullets."
"So they are, Sergeant, and this is not my first experience. Luck hasbeen terribly against me this trip, but it turned when I met you lastnight."
"Yes, Mr. Mason. In this case two rifles are better than one. We'reprowling right through the heart of the Confederacy, but I'm thinkingwe'll make it. We've got a great general now, and we mustn't fail tobring up Colonel Hertford and his cavalry. I've an idea in my head thatGeneral Grant is going to carry through big plans."
"Then I think it's time we were starting."
"So do I, Mr. Mason, and now will you take these crackers and smokedham? I've plenty in my knapsack. I learned on the plains never to travelwithout a food supply. If a soldier starves to death what use is he tohis army? And I reckon you need something to eat. You were about tiredout when I met you last night."
"I surely was, Sergeant, but I'm a new man this morning. You and Itogether can't fail."
Dick, in truth, felt an enormous relief. He and his young comrades hadlearned to trust Sergeant Whitley implicitly, with his experience offorest and plain and his infinite resource.
"Where do you figure we are, Sergeant?" he asked.
"In the deep woods, Mr. Mason, but we haven't turned much from the lineleading you to the place where you were to meet Colonel Hertford. Youhaven't really lost time, and we'll start again straight ahead, butwe've got to look out for this fellow Slade, who's as tricky andmerciless as they ever make 'em."
"Tell me more about Slade, Sergeant."
"I don't know a lot, but I heard of him from some of our scouts. He wasan overseer of a big plantation before the war. From somewhere up North,I think, but now he's more of a rebel than the rebels themselves. Oftenhappens that way. But you've got to reckon with him."
"Glad I know that much. He reminds me of a man I've seen, though I can'trecall where or when. It's enough, though, to watch out for Slade. Comeon, Sergeant, I'm feeling so fine now that with your help I'm able tofight a whole army."
The two striding through the forest, started toward the meeting placewith Hertford. Now that he had the powerful comradeship of SergeantWhitley, the wilderness became beautiful instead of gloomy for Dick.The live oaks and magnolias were magnificent, and there was a wildluxuriance of vegetation. Birds of brilliant plumage darted among thefoliage, and squirrels chattered on the boughs. He saw bear tracksagain, and called the sergeant's attention to them.
"It would be nice to be hunting them, instead of men," said Whitley."You can find nice, black fellows down here, good to eat, and it's adeal safer to hunt them than it is the grizzlies and silver-tips of theRockies."
They saw now much cleared land, mostly cotton fields, and now and thena white man or a negro working, but there was always enough forestfor cover. They waded the numerous brooks and creeks, allowing theirclothing to dry in the warm sun, as they marched, and about two hoursbefore sunrise the sergeant, wary and always suspicious, suggested thatthey stop a while.
"I've an idea," he said, "that Slade and his men are still following us.Oh, he's an ugly fellow, full of sin, and if they're not far behind uswe ought to know it."
"Just as you say," said Dick, glad enough to shift the responsibilityupon such capable shoulders. "How would this clump of bushes serve for ahiding place while we wait?"
"Good enough. Indians pursued, often ambush the pursuer, and as we'vetwo good men with two good rifles, Mr. Mason, we'll just see what thisSlade is about."
"When I last saw
him," said Dick, "he had the two canoemen with him, andperhaps they've picked up the owner of the hounds."
"That's sure, and they're likely to be four. We're only two, but we'vegot the advantage of the ambush, and that's a big one. If you agreewith me, Mr. Mason, we'll wait here for 'em. We were sent out to takemessages, not to fight, but since these fellows hang on our trail we mayget to Colonel Hertford all the quicker because we do fight."
"Your opinion's mine too, Sergeant. I'm not in love with battle, but Iwouldn't mind taking a shot or two at these men. They've given me a lotof trouble."
The sergeant smiled.
"That's the way it goes," he said. "You don't get mad at anybody inparticular in a big battle, but if two or three fellows lay around inthe woods popping away at you you soon get so you lose any objections tokilling, and you draw a bead on 'em as soon as a chance comes."
"That's the way I feel, Sergeant. It isn't Christian, but I suppose ithas some sort of excuse."
"Of course it has. Drop a little lower, Mr. Mason. I see the bushes outthere shaking."
"And that's the sign that Slade and his men have come. Well, I'm notsorry."
Both Dick and the sergeant lay almost flat with their heads raised alittle, and their rifles pushed forward. The bushes ceased to shake,but Dick had no doubt their pursuers were before them. They had probablydivined, too, that the quarry was at bay and was dangerous. Evidentlythe sergeant had been correct when he said Slade was full of craft andcunning.
While they waited the spirit of Dick's famous ancestor descended uponhim in a yet greater measure. Their pursuers were not Indians, but thiswas the deep wilderness and they were merely on a skirt of the greatwar. Many of the border conditions were reproduced, and they were tofight as borderers fought.
"What do you think they're doing?" Dick whispered.
"Feeling around for us. Slade won't take any more risk than he has to.Did you see those two birds fly away from that bough, sudden-like? Ithink one of the men has just crept under it. But the fellow who exposeshimself first won't be Slade."
Dick's inherited instinct was strong, and he watched not only in front,but to right and left also. He knew that cunning men would seek to flankand surprise them, and he noticed that the sergeant also watched in awide circle. He still drew tremendous comfort from the presence of theskillful veteran, feeling that his aid would make the repulse of Slade acertainty.
A rifle cracked suddenly in the bushes to their right, and then anotherby his side cracked so suddenly that only a second came between. Dickheard a bullet whistle over their heads, but he believed that the onefrom his comrade's rifle had struck true.
"I've no way of telling just now," said the sergeant, calmly, "but Idon't believe that fellow will bother any more. If we can wing anotherthey're likely to let us alone and we can go on. They must know bythe trail that we're now two instead of one, and that their danger hasdoubled."
Dick had felt that the danger to their pursuers had more than doubled.He had an immense admiration for the sergeant, who was surely showinghimself a host. The man, trained so long in border war, was thoroughlyin his element. His thick, powerful figure was drawn up in the fashionof a panther about to spring. Bulky as he was he showed ease and grace,and wary eyes, capable of reading every sign, continually scanned thethickets.
"They know just where we are, of course," whispered the sergeant, "butif we stay close they'll never get a good shot at us."
Dick caught sight of a head among some bushes and fired. The headdropped back so quickly that he could not tell whether or not his bulletsped true. After a long wait the sergeant suggested that they creepaway.
"I think they've had enough," he said. "They've certainly lost one man,and maybe two. Slade won't care to risk much more."
Dick was glad to go and, following the sergeant's lead, he crawled fouror five hundred yards, a most painful but necessary operation. Then theystood up, and made good time through the forest. Both would have beenwilling to stay and fight it out with Slade and what force he had left,but their mission was calling them, and forward they went.
"Do you think they'll follow us?" asked Dick.
"I reckon they've had enough. They may try to curve ahead of us and givewarning, but the salute from the muzzles of our rifles has been too warmfor any more direct pursuit. Besides, we're going to have a summer stormsoon, and like as not they'll be hunting shelter."
Dick, in the excitement of battle and flight, had not noticed thedarkening skies and the rising wind. Clouds, heavy and menacing, alreadyshrouded the whole west. Low thunder was heard far in the distance.
"It's going to be a whopper," said the sergeant, "something like thosebig storms they have out on the plains. We must find shelter somewhere,Mr. Mason, or it will leave us so bedraggled and worn out that for along time we won't be able to move on."
Dick agreed with him entirely, but neither yet knew where the shelterwas to be found. They hurried on, looking hopefully for a place.Meanwhile the storm, its van a continual blaze of lightning and roar ofthunder, rolled up fast from the southwest. Then the lightning ceasedfor a while and the skies were almost dark. Dick knew that the rainwould come soon, and, as he looked eagerly for shelter, he saw aclearing in which stood a small building of logs.
"A cornfield, Sergeant," he exclaimed, "and that I take it is a crib."
"A crib that will soon house more than corn," said the sergeant. "Twogood Union soldiers are about to stop there. It's likely the farmer'shouse itself is just beyond that line of trees, but he won't be comingout to this crib to-night."
"Not likely. Too much darkness and rain. Hurry, Sergeant, I can hearalready the rush of the rain in the forest."
They ran across the field, burst open the door of the crib, leaped inand banged the door shut again, just as the van of the rain beat upon itwith an angry rush.
Save for a crack or two they had no light, but they stood upon a dryfloor covered deep with corn shucks, and heard the rain sweep and roarupon the roof. On one side was a heap of husked corn which they quicklypiled against the door in order to hold it before the assaults of thewind, and then they sought warm places among the shucks.
It was a small crib, and the rain drove in at the cracks, but itfurnished abundant shelter for its two new guests. Dick had never beenin a finer hotel. He lay warm and dry in a great heap of shucks, andheard the wind and rain beat vainly upon walls and roof and the thunderrumble as it moved off toward the east. He felt to the full the power ofcontrast.
"Fine in here, isn't it, Sergeant?" he said.
"Fine as silk," replied the sergeant from his own heap of shucks. "Weplayed in big luck to find this place, 'cause I think it's going to rainhard all night."
"Let it. It can't get me. Sergeant, I've always known that corn is ourchief staple, but I never knew before that the shucks, which so neatlyenclose the grains and cob, were such articles of luxury. I'm lying uponthe most magnificent bed in the United States, and it's composed whollyof shucks."
"It's no finer than mine, Mr. Mason."
"That's so. Yours is just like mine, and, of course, it's an exception.Now, I wish to say, Sergeant, the rain upon the roof is so soothing thatI'm likely to go to sleep before I know it."
"Go ahead, Mr. Mason, and it's more'n likely I'll follow. All trailswill be destroyed by the storm and nobody will think of looking here forus to-night."
Both soon slept soundly, and all through the night the rain beat uponthe roof.
The Rock of Chickamauga: A Story of the Western Crisis Page 7
