by John McElroy
CHAPTER XX. AFTER THE SKIRMISH
WILD SHOOTING WAS ALL THAT SAVED A SURPRISED COLORED MAN.
THOUGH Si and Shorty were certain that the trouble was over and therebels all gone, it was impossible to convince the boys of this. Thesudden appearance of the guerrillas had been so mysterious that theycould not rid themselves of the idea that the dark depths beyond thecreek were yet filled with vicious foemen animated by dire intents.
Si and Shorty gathered the boys together on the bank above the railroadcut, had fires built, posted a few guards, and ordered the rest of theboys to lie down and go to sleep. They set the example by unrollingtheir own blankets at the foot of a little jack-oat, whosethickly-growing branches, still bearing a full burden of rusty-brownleaves, made an excellent substitute for a tent.
"Crawl in. Si, and git some sleep," said Shorty, filling his pipe. "I'lltake a smoke and set up for an hour or two. If it looks worth whilethen, I'll wake you up and let you take a trick o' keepin' awake. Butif everything looks all right I'll jest crawl in beside you and start asnorin'-match."
But neither orders nor example could calm down the nerves of boys whohad just had their first experience under fire. There was as little restfor them as for a nest of hornets which had been rudely shaken. They laydown at Si's order, but the next minute they were buzzing together ingroups about the fires, or out with their guns to vantage points onthe bank, looking for more enemies. Their excited imaginations made theopposite bank of the creek alive with men, moving in masses, squads andsingly, with the sounds of footsteps, harsh commands, and of portentousmovements.
Two or three times Shorty repressed them and sharply ordered them to liedown and go to sleep. Then he decided to let them wear themselves out,braced his back against a sapling near the fire, pulled out fromhis pocket the piece of Maria's dress, and became lost in a swarm ofthoughts that traveled north of the Ohio River.
He was recalled by Harry Joslyn and Gid Mackall appearing before him.
"Say, Corpril," inquired Harry, "what's to be done with them rebels overthere at the end o' the bridge?"
"Them that we shot?" said Shorty carelessly, feeling around for histobacco to refill his pipe. "Nothin'. I guess we've done enough for 'emalready."
"Don't we do nothin' more?" repeated Harry.
"No," answered Shorty, as he rubbed the whittlings from his plug topowder in the hollow of his hand.
"Just plug at 'em as you would at a crow, and then go on your waywhistlin'?" persisted Harry.
"Certainly," answered Shorty, filling his pipe and looking around for asliver with which to light it. "What're you thinkin' about?"
"I don't hardly know," hesitated Harry. "It seems awful strange just toblaze away at men and then pay no more attention to 'em. They mayn't beknocked out at all--only 'possumin'."
"No 'possumin' about them fellers," said Shorty sententiously, as helighted his pipe. "Feller that gits an ounce o' lead from a Springfieldrifle anywhere in his carkiss don't play off nor purtend. He's gotsomething real to occupy his attention, if he's got any attention leftto occupy. You needn't bother any more about them fellers over there.Their names's mud. They're now only part o' the real estate on the otherside o' the crick. They're suddently become no good for poll-tax; onlyto be assessed by the acre."
"So you're sure they can't do more harm to the bridge?"
"No more'n the dead leaves on the banks."
"But I thought," persisted Harry, "that when a man's killed somethinghad to be done--coroner's inquest, corpse got ready, funeral, preacher,neighbors gather in, and so on."
"Well, you needn't bother about any obsequies to them fellers overthere," said Shorty, sententiously, as he pulled away at his pipe. "Youdone your whole share when you done the heavy work o' providin' thecorpses. Let anybody that wants to put on any frills about plantin' 'em.If we have time tomorrow mornin' and nothin' better to do, we may goover there and dig holes and put 'em in. But most likely we'll be neededto rebuild that bridge they burnt. I'd rather do that, so's we kin hurryon to Chattynoogy. Buzzards'll probably be their undertakers. They'vegot a contract from the Southern Confedrisy for all that work. You laydown and go to sleep. That's the first dooty of a soldier. You don'tknow what may be wanted o' you tomorrow, and you should git yourselvesin shape for anything--fightin', marchin' or workin'."
"And sha'n't we do nothin' neither to that man that we shot when he wastryin' to set fire to the train?" asked little Pete Skidmore, who withSandy Baker had come up and listened to Shorty's lecture. "He's stilllayin' out there where he dropped, awful still. Me and Sandy took apiece o' fat pine and went down and looked at him. We didn't go veryclose. We didn't like to. He seemed so awful quiet and still."
"No; you let him alone," snapped Shorty impatiently. "He'll keep. Laydown and git some sleep, I tell you. What need you bother about adead rebel? He ain't makin' no trouble. It's the livin' ones that needlookin' out for."
The boys' looks showed that they were face to face with one of theincomprehensibilities of war. But they lay down and tried to go tosleep, and Shorty's thoughts returned to Indiana.
A shot rang out from the post on which he had stationed Jim Humphreys.He was on his feet in an instant, with his gun in hand, and in the nextSi was beside him.
"What's up?" inquired Si, rubbing his eyes.
"Nothin', I believe," answered Shorty. "But hold the boys and I'll goout and see."
He strode forward to Jim's side and demanded what he had shot at.
"I saw some men tryin' to cross the crick there," replied Jim, pointingwith his rammer in the direction of the opposite bank.
"There, you kin see 'em for yourself."
"I don't see no men," said Shorty, after a moment's scrutiny.
"There they are. Don't you see that white there?" said Jim, capping hismusket for another shot.
"That white," said Shorty contemptously, "is some water-birches. Theywas there when you came on guard, for I noticed 'em, and they hain'tmoved since. You seen 'em then, lookin' just as they do now. You'rea fool to think you kin see anything white in a rebel. 'Taint theircolor."
"I don't care," half whimpered Jim. "Gid Mackall, and Harry Joslyn,and Alf Russell, and Pete Skidmore, and even Sandy Baker, have all shotrebels, and I hain't hit none. I don't have half-a-show."
"Be patient," Shorty consoled him. "Your three years's only begun.You'll have lots o' chances yit. But if I ketch you shootin' at any morewhite birches I'll tie you up by the thumbs."
Shorty returned to the fire. Si bade the boys he down again, and tookhis own blanket. Shorty relighted his pipe, took out his never-failingdeck of cards and began running them over.
WILD SHOOTING OF THE BOYS SAVES THE SURPRISED COLOREDMAN. 273]
Jim Humphreys's shot had given new restlessness to the boys. They didnot at all believe in Shorty's diagnosis of the situation. There must bemore men lurking over there whence all that murderous shooting had comeonly a little while ago. Jim Humphreys was more than probably right. Oneafter another of them quietly slipped away from the fire with his gunand made his way down to Jim Humphreys's post, which commanded whatseemed to be a crossing of the creek. They stood there and scanned theopposite bank of darkness with tense expectancy. They had their earstuned up to respond to even the rustle of the brown, dry leaves on thetrees and the murmur of the creek over the stones. They even saw thewhite birches move around from place to place and approach the water,but Shorty's dire threat prevented their firing until they got somethingmore substantial.
"There's rebels over there, sure as you're born,"' murmured Jim to them,without turning his head to relax his fixed gaze nor taking his fingerfrom the trigger of his cocked gun. "Wish they'd fire a gun first toconvince that old terror of a Corpril, who thinks he kin tell whererebels is just by the smell. I'd--"
"Sh! Jim, I hear a hoss's hoofs," said Harry Joslyn.
"Sh! so do I," echoed Gid Mackall.
They all listened with painful eagerness.
"Hoss's hoofs and breakin' li
mbs, sure's you're a foot high," whisperedHarry. "And they're comin' down the hill this way."
"That's right. They're a'most to the crick now," assented Gid. "I'mgoing to shoot."
"No; I've got the right to a first shot," said Jim. "You fellers holdoff."
Bang went Jim's gun, followed almost instantly by the others.
"Hi, dere, boys; I's done found you at las'! Whoopee!" called out acheery voice from across the creek, and a man rode boldly down to thewater's edge, where the boys were nervously reloading.
"Now, Jim Humphreys, what in blazes are you bangin' away at now?"angrily demanded Si, striding up. "At a cotton-tailed rabbit or asycamore stump?"
"The woods is full o' rebel cavalry comin' acrost the crick," gaspedJim, as he rammed down his cartridge. "There, you kin see 'em foryourself."
"What foh you come dis-a-way, boys?" continued the voice of the manon horseback. "I done los' you! I fought we done agreed to go ober bySimpson's hill, an' I jine you dar. I went dat-a-way, an' den I hear youshootin' ober dis-a-way, an' seed yoh fiah, and I cut acrost to git toyou. Whah'd you git so many guns, an' sich big ones? Sound like sojerguns. I done beared dem way ober dah, an' I--"
"Hold on, boys," sternly shouted Shorty, springing in front of them andthrowing up their guns. "Don't one o' you dare shoot! Hold up, I say!Hello, you there! Who are you?"
"Who's me?" said the negro, astonished by the strange voice. "I's MajahWilkinson's Sam, Massa Patrol. I's got a pass all right. De old Majahdone tole me I could go out coon-huntin' wid Kunnel Oberly's boystonight, but I done missed dem."
"Come ashore here, boy," commanded Shorty, "and be thankful that you'realive. You've had a mighty narrow squeak of it. Next time you go outcoon huntin' be sure there's no Yankee and rebel soldiers huntin' oneanother in the neighborhood. Coons have a tough time then."
"Yankee sojers!" gasped the negro, as he was led back to the fire, andsaw the blue uniforms. "Lawdy, massy, don't kill me. I pray, sah, don't.I hain't done nuffin. Sho' I hain't. Massa said you'd burn me alibe ifyou eber cotched me, but you won't, will you?"
"We ain't goin' to hurt you," said Shorty. "Sit down there by the fireand git the goose-flesh offen you." Then turning to the boys he remarkedsarcastically:
"Fine lot o' marksmen you are, for a fact. Halfa dozen o' you bangin'away at a hundred yards, and not comin' close enough to a nigger to lethim know you was shootin' at him. Now will you lay down and go to sleep?Here, Si, you take charge o' this gang and let me go to sleep. I've hadenough o' them for one night."
During the night a train came up, carrying a regiment of entirelynew troops. In the morning these scattered over the ground, scanningeverything with the greatest interest and drinking in every detail ofthe thrilling events of the previous night.
"It's just killin'," said Si to Shorty, "to watch the veteran airs ourboys are puttin' on over those new fellers. You'd think they'd fit inevery battle since Bunker Hill, and learned Gen. Grant all he knowsabout tactics. Talk about the way the old fellers used to fill us up,why, these boys lay away over everything we ever knowed. I overheardHarry Joslyn laying it into about 40 of them. 'No man knows just whathis feelin's will be under fire until he has the actual experience,'says he. 'Now, the first time I heard a rebel bullet whistle,' and hisface took on a look as if he was trying to recollect something yearsago."
"Yes," laughed Shorty, "and you should hear little Pete Skidmore andSandy Baker lecturing them greenies as to the need o' lookin' carefullyto their rear and beware o' rebels sneakin' 'round and attackin'their trains. Hold on. Look through this brush. There's Monty Scruggsexplainin' the plan o' battle to a crowd of 'em. He don't know we'reanywhere around. Listen and you'll hear something."
"The enemy had reached the ground in advance of us," Monty waselucidating, in language with which his school histories and the dailypapers had familiarized him, "and had strongly posted himself alongthose hights, occupying a position of great natural strength, includingtheir own natural cussedness. Their numbers was greatly superior toours, and they had prepared a cunning trap for us, which we only escapedby the vigilance of Corpril Elliott and the generalship of Serg'tKlegg. I tell you, those men are a dandy team when it comes to runninga battle. They know their little biz, and don't you forget it for aminute. The enemy opened a galling fire, when Corpril Elliott gallantlyadvanced to that point there and responded, while Serg't Klegg rapidlyarrayed his men along there, and the battle became terrific. It was likethe poet says:
"'Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steeds to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flashed the red artillery.'"
"O, come off, Monty," called the more prosaic Gid Mackall; "you know wedidn't have no artillery. If we'd had, we'd a blowed 'em clean offen thehill."
The whistle summoned them to get aboard and move on.
CHAPTER XXI. CHATTANOOGA AT LAST
LOST IN A MAZE OF RAILROAD TRAINS.
"WHAT'S the program?" Si inquired of the conductor, as the boys werebeing formed on the bank, preparatory to entering the cars. "I s'poseit's to go over there and put in a week o' hard work rebuildin' thatbridge. Have you got any axes and saws on the train? How long is theblamed old bridge, anyway?"
"Not much it ain't," responded the conductor. "If you think the army'sgoin' to wait a week, or even a day, on a bridge, you're simply not upto date, that's all. The old Buell and Rosecrans way o' doin' things isplayed out since Sherman took command. Your Uncle Billy's a hustler, anddon't let that escape your mind for a minute, or it'll likely lead youinto trouble. You'll find when you get down to Chattynoogy that nobody'sasleep in daylight, or for a good part o' the night. They're not onlywide-awake, but on the keen jump. The old man kin see four ways at once,he's always where he ain't expected, and after everybody with a sharpstick. In Buell's time a burnt bridge 50 foot long 'd stopped us for twoweeks. Now that bridge 'll likely be finished by the time we git there.I've just been over there, and they were layin' the stringers."
"Why, how in the world did they manage?" asked Si.
"O, Sherman's first move was to order down here duplicates for everybridge on the road. He's got 'em piled up at Louisville, Nashville,Murfreesboro and Chattynoogy. The moment a bridge is reported burned agang starts for the place with another bridge, and they're at work assoon's it's cool enough to let 'em get to the abutments. I've seen'em pullin' away the burnin' timbers to lay new ones. They knowed atChattynoogy as soon's we did that the bridge was burned. The operatorat the next station must 've seen it and telegraphed the news, and theystarted a bridge-gang right out. I tell you, double-quick's the timearound where old Cump Sherman is."
"Duplicate bridges," gasped Si. "Well, that is an idee."
"What does he mean by duplicate, Corpril?" asked Harry Joslyn to Shorty.
"O, duplicate's something that you ring in on a feller like a colddeck."
"I don't understand," said Harry.
"Why--hem--hem--duplicate's the new-fangled college word for anythingthat you have up your sleeve to flatten a feller when he thinks he'sgot you euchered. You want to deal the other feller only left bowers andkeep the right bowers for yourself. Them's duplicates. If you give himaces, have the jokers handy for when you want 'em. Them's duplicates.Duplicates 's Sherman's great lay--learned it from his old side-partner,Unconditional Surrender Grant--just as strategy was old McClellan's.There's this difference: Sherman always stacks the deck to win himself,while McClellan used to shuffle the cards for the other feller to win."
"Still I don't understand about the duplicate bridges," persisted Harry.
"Why, old Sherman just plays doublets on the rebels. He leads a kingat 'em and then plumps down an ace, and after that the left and rightbowers. They burn one bridge and he plumps down a better one instead.They blow up a tunnel and he just hauls it out and sticks a bigger onein its place. Great head, that Sherman. Knows almost as much as old AbeLincoln himself."
"Do you say that Sherman has extra tunnels, too, to put
in whenever oneis needed?" asked Harry, with opening eyes.
"O, cert," replied Shorty carelessly. "You seen that big iron buildin'we went into to git on the cars at Louisville? That was really a tunnel,all ready to be shoved out on the road when it was needed. If you hadn'tbin so keen on the lookout for guerrillas as we come along you'd 'a'seen pieces o' tunnels layin' all along the road ready for use."
As the train dashed confidently over the newly-completed bridge the boysgazed with intense interest and astonishment at the still smolderingwreckage, which had been dragged out of the way to admit the erectionof the new structure. It was one of the wonders of the new, strange lifeupon which they were entering.
The marvelous impressiveness and beauty of the scenery as theyapproached Chattanooga fascinated the boys, who had never seen anythingmore remarkable than the low, rounded hills of Southern Indiana.
The towering mountains, reaching up toward the clouds, or even abovethem, their summits crowned with castellated rocks looking likeimpregnable strongholds, the sheer, beetling cliffs, marking where theswift, clear current of the winding Tennessee River had cut its waythrough the granite walls, all had a deep fascination for them. Then,everywhere were strong intrenchments and frowning forts, guarding thecrossings of the river or the passages through the mountains. There werepopulous villages of log huts, some with canvas roofs, some roofed withclapboards, some with boards purloined from the Quartermaster's stores.These were the Winter quarters of the garrisons of the fortifications.Everywhere men were marching to and fro, and long trains of army wagonsstruggling through the mud of the valleys and up the steep hillsides.
"My, what lots o' men," gasped Harry Joslyn. "We won't be once amongsich a crowd. Wonder if Sergeant Klegg and Corpril Elliott kin keep usfrom bein' lost?"
"Trust Corpril Elliott," said Gid, returning to his old partisanship ofthe taller veteran. "He knows his business every time."
"Not any better'n Sergeant Klegg," responded Harry, taking up thegantlet for his favorite. "Long-legged men are very good in their way,but they don't have the brains that shorter men have. Nature don't giveno man everything. What she gives to his legs she takes off his head, mydad says."
"That's just because you're a duck-legged snipe," answered Gidwrathfully. "Do you mean to?"
"Don't make any slurs at me, you spindle-legged sand-hill crane,"retorted Harry.
This was enough. Blows came next. It was their way. Gid Mackall andHarry Joslyn had been inseparable companions since they had begun goingto school, and they had scarcely ever let a day pass without a fight.The moment that Si and Shorty appeared within their horizon they hadraised the issue of which was the best soldier, and made it a matter oflively partisanship.
Si and Shorty had been on the eager lookout for the indications of theposition of the army, for places that they could recognize, and forregiments, brigades and divisions they were acquainted with, so theydid not at first notice the squabble. Then they pulled the boys asunder,shook them and scolded them for their conduct.
New emotions filled Si's and Shorty's breasts. They had been away fromtheir regiment so long that they were acutely homesick to be back toit. Such is the magic of military discipline and association that theirregimental flag had become the center of their universe, and the realpeople of their world the men who gathered around it. Everythingand everybody else was subsidiary to that thing of wonderfulsacredness--"the regiment." They felt like wanderers who had beenaway for years, and were now returning to their proper home, friends,associations and vocation. Once more under the Flag life would becomeagain what it should be, with proper objects of daily interest and thesatisfactory performance of every-day duties. They really belongedin the regiment, and everywhere else were interlopers, sojourners,strangers in a strange land. They now sat together and talked of theregiment as they had formerly sat around the campfire with the otherboys and talked of their far-away homes, their fathers and mothers,brothers and sisters and sweethearts.
They had last seen their regiment in the fierce charge from the crestof Snodgrass Hill. The burning questions were who had survived thatterrible day? Who had been so badly wounded as to lose his place onthe rolls? Who commanded the regiment and the companies? Who filled thenon-commissioned offices? What voices that once rang out in command onthe drill-ground, in camp and battle, were now silent, and whose wouldbe lifted instead? "I'm af eared the old rijimint will never fight aginas it did at Stone River and Chickamauga," said Si mournfully. "Too manygood men gone what made the rijimint what it is."
"Well, I don't know about that," said Shorty more hopefully. "They gottwo mighty good non-commish when they promoted me and you. If they doneas well in the rest o' the promotions, the rijimint is all right. Lordknows I'd willingly give up my stripes to poor Jim Sanders, if he couldcome back; but I guess I kin yank around a squad as well as he done.This infant class that we're takin' down there ain't up to some o' theboys that've turned up their toes, but they average mighty well, andafter we git some o' the coltishness drilled out o' 'em they'll be acredit to the rijimint."
The train finally halted on a side-track in the outskirts ofChattanooga, under the gigantic shadow of Lookout Mountain, and in themidst of an ocean of turmoiling activity that made the eyes ache tolook upon it, and awed every one, even Si and Shorty, with a senseof incomprehensible immensity. As far as they could see, in everydirection, were camps, forts, intrenchments, flags, hordes of men,trains of wagons, herds of cattle, innumerable horses, countless mules,mountains of boxes, barrels and bales. Immediately around them was awilderness of trains, with noisy locomotives and shouting men. Regimentsreturning from veteran furlough, or entirely new ones, were disembarkingwith loud cheering, which was answered from the camps on the hillsides.On the river front steamboats were whistling and clanging their bells.
The boys, too much awed for speech, clustered around Si and Shorty andcast anxious glances at their faces.
"Great Jehosephat," murmured Shorty. "They seem to be all here."
"No," answered Si, as the cheers of a newly-arrived regiment rang out,"the back townships are still comin' in."
Monty Scruggs found tongue enough to quote:
"And ships by thousands lay below, And men by nations, all were his."
"Where in time do you s'pose the 200th Injianny is in all this freshetof men and mules and bosses?" said Si, with an anxious brow. The lookmade the boys almost terror-stricken. They huddled together and turnedtheir glances toward Shorty for hope. But Shorty looked as puzzled asSi.
"Possibly," he suggested to Si, "the conductor will take us further upinto the town, where we kin find somebody that we know, who'll tell uswhere the rijimint is."
"No," said the conductor, who came back at that moment; "I can't go nofurther with you. Just got my orders. You must pile right out here atonce. They want the engine and empties in five minutes to take a loadback to Nashville. Git your men out quick as you kin."
"Fall in," commanded Si. "Single rank. Foller me and Corpril Elliott.Keep well closed up, for if you git separated from us goodness knowswhat'll become o' you in this raft o' men."
The passage through the crowded, busy railroad yard was bewildering,toilsome, exciting and dangerous. The space between the tracks wasscarcely more than wide enough for one man to pass, and the trains oneither side would be moving in different directions. On the tracksthat the boys crossed trains were going ahead or backing in entireregardlessness of them, and with many profane yells from the trainmenfor them to get out of the way and keep out. Si only kept his directionby occasionally glancing over his shoulder and setting his face towalk in the direction away from Pulpit Rock, which juts out from theextremity of Lookout Mountain.
At last, after a series of hair-breadth dodges, Si drew up his squad inan open space where the tracks crossed, and proceeded to count them.
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