In the Saddle

by Oliver Optic

  CHAPTER XXII

  A DESPERATE DEED CONTEMPLATED

  Deck Lyon was not at all satisfied with his situation in the wagon inwhich he had been loaded with the tools and materials of thebridge-burners; and from the bundles of light wood, cans of powder,turpentine, and kerosene in the vehicle, this appeared to be the propername for the four men. With the men smoking their pipes on the frontseat, it did not appear to him to be a very safe position.

  The wagon would have been called a "prairie schooner" farther west; andwas of the kind used in Tennessee and North Carolina, and perhapselsewhere in the South. It had a high front and rear, with a sheerbetween them like an ancient galley. It was provided with a canvascover; and the bows at either end carried it out about three feet beyondthe body, like an awning in front of a window. The driver rode on thenigh wheel mule, with a long whip in his hand. He was a skilledteamster, and did not soar to the refinement of reins, but did hisdriving by word of mouth, and the application of the whip.

  Deck had no idea where he was, or where he was going, for he had notstudied the map of the present locality. He did not know where these menhad come from. Captain Truman was evidently unaware of their existencein this section, or he would have set a guard over the bridge, after hehad captured it in the early morning. If the son had listened to hisfather's conversation with the wounded prisoner, he would have learnedthat the bridge-burners had been sent over with the flanking detachmentthat had been defeated and driven off by the second company. They hadmade their way to the vicinity of the bridge with their wagon, and hadwatched for an opportunity to do their work.

  They had found the signalman in their way; and, doubtless, it hadrequired some time to arrange their plan for getting him out of the way.Deck was alone, and was not a very dangerous opponent in himself; but hecould give an alarm by firing his carbine or otherwise, which wouldbring an armed force to his assistance. It was necessary to resort tostrategy; and the proceedings of Brown Kipps to get the troublesomesignalman out of the way have already been detailed. If the young manhad had more experience of the ways of the world in general, and of themethods of bridge-burners in particular, they would not have succeededso well.

  The combustible goods and other articles in the wagon seemed to havebeen pitched into the vehicle at random; for they were not arranged inanything like order, and everything was in confusion. It seemed to theprisoner a piece of remarkably good fortune that he had not had his legsand arms bound, as when he was first taken. He was only a boy, though astout one, and they did not seem to set a high estimate on his prowessas a fighting character; for they had not seen him in the skirmish onthe east road, when he had given Lieutenant Makepeace the wounds whichhad disabled him.

  The sabre and carbine which had been taken from him had been carelesslythrown into the wagon, though they were within reach of the men. Deckwas a young man of too much enterprise to be mentally inactive in themidst of his present misfortune, and the wagon had hardly started beforehe began to consider his chances of escaping from the custody of thefour men. At the first glance he could see that the chances were allagainst him. If it came to a fight, there was no chance at all for him;and his inborn prudence did not permit him to think of such a thing as aphysical contest with a threefold odds against him.

  But he was not discouraged at the mountain of difficulty in front ofhim, but proceeded to study the situation very carefully. It will beremembered that his captors had neglected to take from him the revolverhe carried in one of his pockets; for, doubtless, it did not occur toKipps that he was supplied with such a weapon. Deck set a very highvalue on the pistol in his present emergency. The trousers with which hehad been supplied by the government were not made with hip pockets, avery serviceable improvement to the garment, not unknown even at thebeginning of the war.

  This kind of pocket was very useful to those who were in the habit ofcarrying revolvers; but Deck's ingenuity had enabled him to provide forthe deficiency. He had arranged a sort of hook under one of the backsuspender buttons, about where the pocket would have been if the garmenthad been supplied with one, so that he could readily produce the weaponon occasion. He had a box of cartridges in his pocket, and the revolverwas fully loaded for instant service.

  His carbine and sabre lay on the merchandise behind the men, all of whomwere seated on a front seat under the projecting cover, and the wagonwas wide enough to provide close quarters for all of them. The canvascould be drawn down so as to protect the contents of the body from theweather; but now it was fastened up, so that the vehicle was open infront.

  Deck thought he might work his way forward far enough to enable him toreach his regular weapons; and at first he thought he would take thisstep. If he succeeded in obtaining them, all the advantage he expectedto gain was in preventing his custodians from using them on anemergency; for the revolver in his pocket was a more effective weapon inthe wagon. He looked over the miscellaneous loading of the vehicle, andtried to find a place for each of his feet in his advance to the forwardpart of the wagon.

  His survey of the ground was not at all satisfactory; for there was nofirm foundation for his feet. He must move noiselessly, or the attentionof his captors would be called to him. He could not expect to go threefeet without disturbing some of the articles; and his caution compelledhim to abandon the attempt to recover his arms. They were not essentialto his success in any plan he might adopt; and if Kipps discovered thathe was trying to escape, he would certainly have his arms tied behindhim again; and that might cut off all his chances. He was satisfied thatit was not prudent for him to attempt to reach and obtain his carbineand sabre.

  Then a more desperate scheme occurred to him, and it seemed to be morefeasible than the other. He had his revolver; and, after a great deal ofpractice with it, he had become quite skilful in its use. He had seatedhimself on a box close to the rear curtains of the wagon when Kippscommitted him to his canvas prison. Though it seemed to him like"fastening a door with a boiled carrot," he had seen the foreman adjustand fasten a padlock on the curtains after he had drawn one over theother.

  Doubtless this was done to prevent thieves from stealing any of thestores in the vehicle in the night; but any enterprising robber, with asharp knife in his hand, could speedily make an opening in the canvas.These men were not soldiers, so far as the prisoner knew; though perhapsthey were more effectively opposing the plans of the government than ifthey had been, by destroying its facilities for the transportation oftroops and supplies for the suppression of the rebellion. They wereenemies as much as though they had worn the gray uniform.

  Deck sat on the box with his hand on his revolver. He could sit there,and with the six bullets in his pistol he could shoot every one of hiscaptors, unless some of them fled before his fire. One of them mightseize and use his carbine; but he would have a barrel in his weaponready for him. This seemed to him to be the most promising scheme thatsuggested itself, so far as mere success was concerned. It would ridthis vicinity of the State of four men who might do as much mischief tothe loyal cause as a whole company of soldiers, even if they were Texancavalry.

  Deck took the revolver from the hook inside his trousers, and assuredhimself that all the barrels were charged. Then he looked the wagon overagain, and considered what he was about to do. Incidentally he askedhimself what the mechanics intended to do with him. Doubtless they wouldhand him over to the military, and he would be sent to the South. It wasnot a pleasant prospect, and he prepared to use his weapon.

  It was war in which his lot was cast; and the business of war was thekilling of men, and the more the better. He raised the weapon; but, inspite of his reasoning, his soul revolted at the thought of the act hehad been ready to commit a few moments before. Brown Kipps had used himas kindly as the circumstances would permit, and had not confined hisarms behind him when in his judgment it did not appear to require it. Itlooked like a cold-blooded murder, and a cowardly deed besides, to shootthese men in the back of the head.

  He believed that, if he commi
tted the deed, the remembrance of it wouldhaunt him as long as he lived; and the Confederate prison was betterthan such a black memory. He put the revolver in his pocket; and he feltmore like a Christian when he had decided not to be guilty of theoutrage to which he had been tempted. He wondered what his father, whowas a true Christian, would say when he related this incident to him, ifhe ever saw him again.

  "Mr. Kipps," said he on an impulse which suddenly seized him.

  "Well, my little dandy, what now?" asked the foreman, as he turned hishead as far as his crowded seat would permit.

  "Don't you think you have carried me about far enough?" demanded Deck.

  "I reckon not jest yet. You are a Yankee soldier, and you may be wuthsunthin' to us afore we get through with you," answered Kipps verygood-naturedly. "I reckon you uns down below there got some prisonersout o' we uns."

  "No doubt of that," added Deck.

  "We know'd there had been a fight down there; but we don't know nothin'more about it."

  Deck told him something more about it, including the fact thatLieutenant Makepeace was a prisoner in the hospital.

  "You don't say so!" exclaimed Kipps, deeply interested in the statement."Makepeace brought us over here part of the way; and he's a right downgood feller, and I liked him better'n Dingfield. I'm sorry for him. Ishe in a bad way?"

  "I can't say how bad; but he has a bullet in his chest, and a sabre-cuton the head," replied Deck. "Our surgeon is taking good care of him."

  "I'm glad you uns took care on him; and if you get hurt, we uns will doas much for you," said the foreman.

  "But I have already done a great deal more than that for you; and youmay thank me that you four are not dead at this particular moment,"added the prisoner boldly, as he decided to adopt another method ofproceeding.

  "How's that, little sonny? I don't edzactly see it," answered Kipps,standing up on the platform in front of the wagon, so that the otherthree could turn round and see the prisoner.

  "Not ten minutes ago I had made up my mind to shoot all four of you, andmake my way back to my company," continued Deck, as he produced hisrevolver, and held it up so all four of them could see it.

  At this moment the wagon went over some obstacle like a large log; and,as the hind wheels descended from it with a heavy "jounce," Deck wasthrown forward, and only saved himself from a fall among the assortedloading by grasping one of the bows.

  "We done com'd to de road, Mars'r Kipps!" shouted the driver, as hestopped his team after a succession of yells at the mules.

  "Stay where you are, Jube!" called the foreman. "I want to know how mylife was saved, for one, afore we go any farther. What's the reason weuns ain't not all dead, little 'possum?"

  "Because I didn't shoot you all," replied Deck, as he stood holding tothe bow with one hand, and the revolver with the other.

  "Do you expect, little po'k-eater, we uns should 'a' let you do such awicked deed as that?"

  "But I could have done it without asking your permission," replied Deck."I was sitting on that box, and I could have taken you first through theback of your head; and if one of you had moved to resist, I could havefinished him in the twinkling of an eye. I don't like to boast, Mr.Brown Kipps, but I am a dead shot with this particular revolver; and itwould have been ready for business again the instant I had disposed ofthe second man. It fires six shots, and I had a chance to complete thejob, even if I missed my aim twice. Don't you see it?"

  "Where did you get that little shooter, Lyons?"

  "My name is Lyon; there is only one of us here. Of course I have had therevolver about me all the time, and you were so considerate as not totake it from me, simply because it did not come into your head to lookfor it."

  "Why didn't you do the shootin' when you had the chance, little coon?"

  "Because I concluded that it would be mean and cowardly to shoot fourmen in the back of the head, and that it would haunt me as long as Ilived."

  Kipps suddenly jumped over the seat, and began to make his way to theplace where the prisoner stood; but Deck pointed the revolver at him,and commanded him to halt.