CHAPTER V
AN OLD ENEMY
Despite the brilliant sunset the night came on very dark and heavy withdamp. The road through the gap was none too good and the lofty slopesclothed in forest looked menacing. Many sharpshooters might lurkthere, and the three colonels were anxious to reach Sheridan with theirforce intact, at least without further loss after the battle withColonel Talbot's command.
The column was halted and it was decided to send out another scoutingparty to see if the way was clear. Twenty men, of whom the best forsuch work were Shepard and Whitley, were chosen, and Dick, owing to hisexperience, was put in nominal command, although he knew in his heartthat the spy and the sergeant would be the real leaders, a fact whichhe did not resent. Warner and Pennington begged to go too, but theywere left behind.
Shepard had received a remount, and, as all of them rode good horses,they advanced at a swift trot through the great gap. The spy, who knewthe pass, led the way. The column behind, although it was comingforward at a good pace, disappeared with remarkable quickness. Dick,looking back, saw a dusky line of horsemen, and then he saw nothing.He did not look back again. His eyes were wholly for Shepard and thedim path ahead.
The aspect of the mountains, which had been so inviting before theycame to them, changed wholly. Dick did not long so much for greenfoliage now, as a chill wind began to blow. All of them carried cloaksor overcoats rolled tightly and tied to their saddles, which theyloosed and put on. The wind rose, and, confined within the narrowlimits of the pass, it began to groan loudly. A thin sheet of raincame on its edge, and the drops were almost as cold as those of winter.
Dick's first sensation of uneasiness and discomfort disappearedquickly. Like his cousin, Harry, he had inherited a feeling for thewilderness. His own ancestor, Paul Cotter, had been a great woodsmantoo, and, as he drew on the buckskin gauntlets and wrapped the heavycloak about his body, his second sensation was one of actual physicalpleasure. Why should he regard the forest with a hostile eye? Hisancestors had lived in it and often its darkness had saved them fromdeath by torture.
He looked up at the dark slopes, but he could see only the black massesof foliage and the thin sheets of driven rain. For a little while, atleast, his mind reproduced the wilderness. It was there in all itssavage loneliness and majesty. He could readily imagine that theIndians were lurking in the brush, and that the bears and panthers wereseeking shelter in their dens. But his own feeling of safety and ofmental and physical pleasure in the face of obstacles deepened.
"I've been just that way myself," said Sergeant Whitley, who was ridingbeside him and who could both see and read his face. "On the plainswhen we were so well wrapped up that the icy winds whistling around uscouldn't get at us then we felt all the better. But it was best whenwe were inside the fort and the winter blizzard was howling."
"A lot of us were talking a little while back about what they weregoing to do after the war. What's your plan, sergeant, if you haveany?"
"I do have a plan, Mr. Mason. I was a lumberman, as you know, before Ientered the regular army, and when the fighting's done I think I'll goback to it. I can swing an axe with the best of 'em, but I mean aftera while to have others swinging axes for me. If I can I'm going tobecome a big lumberman. I'd rather be that than anything else."
"It's a just and fine ambition, sergeant, I feel sure that you're goingto become a man of money and power. Mr. Warner means to becomepresident of Harvard, twenty or twenty-five years from now, and mycousin Harry Kenton, a reconstructed rebel, is going to deliver anaddress there to the new president's young men, while Mr. Penningtonand I, as the president's guests, are going to sit on the stage andsmile. Right now, and with authority from Mr. Warner, I'm going toinvite you as the lumber king of the Northwest to sit on the stage withus on that occasion, as the guest of President Warner, and smile withus."
"If I become what you predict I'll accept," said the sergeant.
The chances were a thousand to one against the prophecy, but it allcame true, just as they wished.
The rain increased a little, although it was not yet able to penetrateDick's heavy coat, but they were compelled to go more slowly on accountof the thickening darkness. They reached very soon the crest of thepass and halted there a little while to see or hear any sign of a humanbeing. But no sound came to them and they resumed the scout in thedarkness, riding now down the slope which would end before long in agreat valley.
The ground softened by the rain deadened the footsteps of their horses,and they made little noise as they rode down the narrow pass, examiningas well as they could the dripping forest on either side of the road.Shepard was a bit ahead, and Dick and the sergeant, riding side byside, came next. Behind were the troopers, a small picked band, daringhorsemen, used to every kind of danger.
They did not really anticipate the presence of an enemy in the pass.They knew that Colonel Talbot's command had turned toward thesouthwest. All the other Confederate forces must be gathering far upthe valley to meet Sheridan, and the South was too much reduced toraise new men. Yet after a half hour's moderate riding down the slopeDick became sure that some one was in the narrow belt of forest ontheir right, where the slope was less steep than on their left.
At first it seemed to be an intuition, merely a feeling brought onwaves of air that men, enemies, were in the wood. Then he knew thatthe feeling was due to sounds as of someone moving lightly through awet thicket, but unable to keep the boughs from giving forth a rustle.He was about to call to Shepard, but before he could do so the spystopped. Then all the others stopped also.
"Did you hear it?" Dick whispered to Sergeant Whitley.
"Yes," replied the sergeant. "Men are moving in the thicket on ourright. I couldn't hear much, but they must be as numerous as we are.They're enemies or they'd have come out. They're on foot, too, as theycouldn't manage horses in those deep woods. Likely they've left theirmounts with a guard on top of a ridge, as men on foot wouldn't beabroad at such a time on such a night."
"Then it's an ambush!" said Dick, and he added in a sharp voice:
"Pull away to the left, men, under cover!"
Shepard was the first to turn and all the others followed instantly.Three jumps of the horses and they were among the bushes and trees onthe left. It was lucky for them that they had heard the sound of thewet bushes rustling together, as a dozen rifles flashed in the dusk onthe other side of the road. Bullets cut the leaves about them. Two orthree buried themselves with a plunk in the trunks of trees, one killeda horse, the trooper springing clear without hurt, and one man waswounded slightly in the arm.
"Take cover," called Dick, "but don't lose your horses!"
They dismounted and concealed themselves behind the trunks of trees.Some hastily tethered their horses to bushes, but others hung thebridle over an arm. They knew that if a combat was to occur it must befought on foot, but, for the present, they were compelled to wait. Yetif their enemy was hidden from them they also were hidden from him.All the conditions of an old Indian battle in darkness and ambush werereproduced, and Dick was deeply grateful that he had at his elbow tworedoubtable champions like Whitley and Shepard. They were peculiarlyfitted for such work as that which lay before them, and he was readyand willing to take advice from either.
"It's a small party," whispered Shepard, "probably not much larger thanours. They must have expected to make a complete ambush, but we heardthem too soon."
"It's surely not a part of Colonel Talbot's command," said Dick. "Ifso, Harry Kenton and his friends would certainly be there and Ishouldn't like to be in battle with them again."
"Never a fear of that," said Sergeant Whitley. "It's more likely to besome guerrilla band, roaming around as it pleases. The condition ofthe country and these mountains give such fellows a chance. I'm goingto lie down and creep forward as we used to do on the plains. I wantto get a sight of those fellows, that is, if you say so, sir."
"Of course," said Dick, "but don't take too big risks
, sergeant. Wecan't afford to let you be shot."
"Never fear," said the sergeant, dropping almost flat upon his face,and creeping slowly forward.
The dusky figure worming itself through the bushes heightened theillusion of an old Indian combat. The sergeant was a scout and trailerfeeling for the enemy and he reminded Dick of his famous ancestor, PaulCotter. Several more shots were fired by the foe, but they did nothurt anybody, all of them flying overhead. Dick's men were anxious tosend random bullets in reply into the thickets, but he restrained them.It would be only a waste, and while it was annoying to be held there,it could not be helped. Some of the horses reared and plunged withfright at the shots, but silence soon came.
Dick still watched the sergeant as he edged forward, inch by inch. Hadnot his eyes been following the dusky figure he could not have pickedit out from the general darkness. But he still saw it faintly, adarker blur against the dark earth. Yielding a little to his ownanxiety, he handed the bridle of his horse to his orderly, and movedtoward the edge of the woodland strip, bending low, and using the treetrunks for shelter.
At the last tree he knelt and looked for those on the other side. Thesergeant was already beyond cover, but he lay so low in the grass thatDick himself could scarcely discern him.
The wind was still driving the thin sheets of rain before it, and waskeeping up a howling and whistling in the pass, a most sinister soundto one not used to the forest and darkness, although Dick paid noattention to it.
Twice the clouds parted slightly and showed a bit of moonlight, but thegleam was so brief that it was gone in a second or two. Neverthelessat the second ray Dick saw crouched beside a tree at the far side ofthe road a small hunched figure holding a rifle, the head crowned by anenormous flap-brimmed hat. His imagination also made him see small,close-set, menacing red eyes, and he knew at once that it was Slade,the same guerrilla leader who had once pursued him with such deadlyvindictiveness through the Mississippi forest and swamps. He had heardthat he had come farther north and had united his band with that ofSkelly, who pretended to be on the other side. But one could nevertell about these outlaws. When they were distant from the regulararmies nobody was safe from them.
"Did you see?" whispered Dick to the sergeant who had crept to his side.
"Yes, I caught a glimpse of him. It was Slade, who tried so hard tokill you down there in the Vicksburg campaign. If we get another rayof the moonlight I'll pick him off, that is if you say so, sir."
"I've no objection, sergeant. Such a man as Slade cumbers the earth.Besides, he'll do everything he can now to kill us."
The sergeant knelt, carbine raised, and waited for the ray ofmoonlight. He was a dead shot, and he believed that he would not miss,but when the ray came at last Slade was not there. Whitley uttered alow exclamation of disgust.
"A good chance gone," he said, "and it may never come again. I'd havesaved the lives of a lot of good men."
But a flash came from the thicket, and the sergeant from the grassreplied. A cry followed his shot, showing that some one had receivedhis bullet, but Dick knew instinctively that it was not Slade, thecrafty leader he was sure now being safe behind the trunk of a tree.
Presently the sergeant fired from another point, and then crept hastilyaway lest the flash of his rifle betray him. A dozen shots were firedby Slade's band, but no harm was done, and then, the sergeant comingback, Dick held a consultation with his two lieutenants and advisers.
"Perhaps we may flank them," he said. "We can divide our force, andtaking them by surprise drive them out of the wood."
But Sergeant Whitley, wary and weatherwise, was against it.
"The risk would be too great, sir," he said. "We can afford to waitwhile they can't. Our whole column will be up in time, while it's notlikely that anybody can come to help Slade. It's true too, sir, thatthis rain is going to stop. The clouds are beginning to clear away,and when there's light we'll have a fair chance at 'em."
"I think," said Dick, "that it will be best for Mr. Shepard to returnand hurry up a relieving column. What do you say?"
"I think so too, sir," said Shepard. "I can lead my horse back somedistance through the forest, then mount and gallop up the road. Theymay be gone before I come again, but if they are not we can soon drivethem away."
"We'll cover you with our rifles against any rush made by Slade's men,"said Dick.
But it did not become necessary to fire. Shepard was able to lead hishorse through the woods without noise, until he was at least threehundred yards on the return journey. Then he mounted and galloped atgreat speed up the pass. Dick heard the distant thud of hoofs growingfainter and fainter until they died away altogether, and he knew thatSlade must have heard them too. And a man as acute and experienced asthe guerrilla chief would easily divine their meaning.
The rain ceased, and the moaning and whistling of the wind in the passbecame a murmur. The clouds parted and sank away toward every horizon,leaving the full dome of the sky, shot with a bright moon and millionsof dancing stars. A silvery light over the woods and thickets droveaway the deep darkness, and when Sergeant Whitley crept forward againto spy out the enemy he found that they were gone. He trailed them upthe lofty slope and discovered, as he had surmised, that they had lefttheir horses there while they attempted the ambush. He was sure nowthat they were far away, and he returned with his story, just asShepard arrived with the vanguard of the column, led by ColonelWinchester.
"And so it was Slade!" said the Colonel.
"Undoubtedly, sir," said Dick. "I saw him plainly, and so did SergeantWhitley."
"I'm not sorry he's here," said Colonel Winchester thoughtfully, "and Ihope the story that he and Skelly have joined bands is true, because ifthey are in this region they're so far away from Pendleton that yourpeople are safe from mischief at their hands."
"I hadn't thought of it in that way, sir, but it's just as you say. I'drather have to fight them here than have them attacking our innocentpeople at home. In the early part of the war Skelly called himself aUnionist, did he not?"
"Yes, and he may do so yet, but names are nothing to him. He'd rob,and murder, too, with equal zest under either flag."
"It's so," said Dick, and he felt the full truth as he thought ofPendleton, and his beautiful young mother, alone in her house, save forthe gigantic and faithful Juliana. But Juliana was an armed hostherself, and Dick smiled at the recollection of the strong and honestblack face that had bent over him so often. He prayed without wordsthat these ruthless guerrillas, no matter what flag they bore, shouldnever come to Pendleton.
"I don't think our column on its present march need fear anything fromSlade and his band," said Colonel Winchester. "Such as he can operateonly from ambush, and so far as Virginia is concerned, in themountains. Shepard says we'll be out of the pass in another hour, andby that time it will be day. I'll be glad, too, as the cold rain andthe darkness and the long ride are beginning to affect the men."
The column resumed its march, Dick rode by the side of ColonelWinchester. Time, propinquity, genuine esteem, and a fourth influencewhich Dick did not as yet suspect, were fast knitting these two,despite the difference in age, into a friendship which nothing couldbreak. The meeting with Slade was forgotten quickly, by all exceptthose concerned, and by most of those too, so vast was the war and solittle space did it afford for the memory of brief events. Yet itlingered a while with Dick. Twice now he had met Slade and he feltthat he would meet him yet again at points far apart.
Dawn came slow and gray in a cloudy sky, but the sun soon brokethrough. The heat returned and the earth began to dry. The threecolonels felt it necessary to give their men rest and food, and letthem dry their uniforms, which had become wet in many cases, despitetheir overcoats and heavy cloaks.
They were now in a deep cove of the great Valley of Virginia, with thesteep mountains just behind them, and far beyond the dim blue outlineof other mountains enclosing it on the west. As the fires blazed upand the men made
coffee and cooked their breakfasts, Dick's heartleaped. This was the great valley once more, where so much history hadbeen made. Lee and Grant were deadlocked in the trenches beforePetersburg, but here in the valley history would be made again. It wasthe finest part of Virginia, the greatest state of the Confederacy, andDick knew in his heart that some heavy blows would soon be struck,where fields already had been won and lost in desperate strife.
But the men were very cheerful. The little band of skirmishers orsharpshooters under Slade had been brushed aside easily, and now thatthey were in the valley they did not foresee any further attempt tostop their march to Sheridan. The three colonels shared in the view,and when the men had finished breakfast and dried themselves at theirfires they remounted and rode away gaily. High spirits rose again inyouthful veins, and some lad of a mellow voice began to sing. By andby all joined and a thousand voices thundered out:
"Oh, share my cottage, gentle maid, It only waits for thee To give a sweetness to its shade And happiness to me.
"Here from the splendid, gay parade Of noise and folly free No sorrows can my peace invade If only blessed with thee.
"Then share my cottage, gentle maid, It only waits for thee To give a sweetness to its shade And happiness to me."
Colonel Hertford made no attempt to check them as they rode across thefields, yet green here, despite the summer's heat.
"They're bravest when they sing," he said to Colonel Winchester.
"It encourages them," said Colonel Winchester, "and I like to hear itmyself. It's a wonderful effect, a thousand or more strong ladssinging, as they sweep over the valley toward battle."
Dick, Pennington and Warner had joined in the song, but the youth somedistance ahead of them was leader. They finished "Gentle Maid" andthen, with the same lad leading them, swung into a song that made Dickstart and that for a moment made other mountains and another valleystand out before him, sharp and clear.
"Soft o'er the fountain, ling'ring falls the Southern moon Far o'er the mountain, breaks the day too soon. In thy dark eyes' splendor, where the warm light loves to dwell, Weary looks, yet tender, speak their fond farewell. Nita! Juanita! Ask thy soul if we should part, Nita! Juanita! Lean thou on my heart.
"When in thy dreaming moons like these shall shine again, And daylight beaming prove thy dreams are vain, Wilt thou not, relenting, for thy absent lover sigh? In thy heart consenting to a prayer gone by! Nita! Juanita! Let me linger by thy side. Nita! Juanita! Be my own fair bride."
They put tremendous heart and energy into the haunting old song as theysang, and Dick still saw Sam Jarvis, the singer of the hills, and hisvalley, where the paths of Harry Kenton and himself had crossed, thoughat times far apart.
"Now!" shouted the young leader, "The last verse again!" and withincreased heart and energy they thundered out:
"When in thy dreaming moons like these shall shine again, And daylight beaming prove thy dreams are vain, Wilt thou not, relenting, for thy absent lover sigh? In thy heart consenting to a prayer gone by! Nita! Juanita! Let me linger by thy side. Nita! Juanita! Be my own fair bride."
The mighty chorus sank away and the hills gave it back in echoes untilthe last one died.
"It's sung mostly in the South," said Dick to Warner and Pennington.
"True," said Warner, "but before the war songs were not confined to onesection. They were the common property of both. We've as much rightto sing Juanita as the Johnnies have."
All that day they rode and sang, going north toward Halltown, where theforces of Sheridan were gathering, and the valley, although lone anddesolate, continually unfolded its beauty before them. The mountainswere green near by and blue in the distance, and the fertile floor thatthey enclosed, like walls, was cut by many streams. Here, indeed, wasa region that had bloomed before the war, and that would bloom again,no matter what war might do.
They found inhabited houses now and then, but all the men of militaryage were gone away and the old men, the women and the children wouldanswer nothing. The women were not afraid to tell the Yankees whatthey thought of them, and in this war which was never a war on womenthe troopers merely laughed, or, if they felt anger, they hid it.
On they went through night and day, and now they drew near to Sheridan.Scouts in blue met them and the gallant column shook their sabers andsaluted. Yes, it was true, they said, that Sheridan was gathering afine army and he and all of his men were eager to march, but ColonelHertford's force, sent by General Grant to help, would be welcomed withshouts. The fame of its three colonels had gone on before.
It was bright noon when they approached the northern end of the valley,and Dick saw a horseman followed by a group of about twenty mengalloping toward them. The leader was a short, slender man, sittingfirmly in his saddle.
"General Sheridan!" exclaimed Shepard.
Colonel Hertford instantly ordered his trumpeter to sound a signal, andthe troopers, stopping and drawing up in a long line, awaited the manwho was to command them, and who was coming on so fast. Again Dickexamined him closely through his glasses, and he saw the young, tannedface under the broad brim of his hat, and the keen, flashing eyes. Henoticed also how small he was. Sheridan was but five feet five inchesin height and he weighed in the momentous campaign now about to begin,only one hundred and fifteen pounds! As slight as a young boy, hegave, nevertheless, an impression of the greatest vigor and endurance.
He reined in his horse a score of yards in front of the long line andwas about to speak to Colonel Hertford, who sat his saddle before it,Colonel Winchester and Colonel Bedford on either side of him, but therewas a sudden interruption.
Fifteen hundred sabers flashed aloft, the blazing sunlight glitteringfor a moment on their broad blades. Then they swept in mighty curves,all together, and from fifteen hundred throats thundered:
"Sheridan! Sheridan! Sheridan!"
The sabers made another flashing curve, sank back into their scabbards,and the men were silent.
Sheridan's tanned face flushed deeply, and a great light leaped up inhis eyes, as he received the magnificent salute. His own sword sprangout, and made the salute in reply. Then, riding a little closer, hesaid in a loud, clear tone that all could hear:
"Men, I have been looking for you! I have come forward to meet you! Iknew that you were great horsemen, gallant soldiers, but I see that youare even greater and more gallant men than I had hoped. The Army ofthe Potomac has sent its best as a gift to the Army of the Shenandoah.Men, I thank you for this welcome, the warmest I have ever received!"
Again the sabers flashed aloft, made their glittering curve, and againfrom muscular throats came the thunderous cheer:
"Sheridan! Sheridan! Sheridan!"
Then the young general shook hands heartily with the three colonels,the young aides were introduced, and with Sheridan himself at theirhead the whole column swept off toward the north, and to the camp ofthe Army of the Shenandoah which lay but a little distance away.
The Tree of Appomattox Page 7
