The Tree of Appomattox

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE MOUNTAIN SHARPSHOOTER

  Colonel Winchester's own mellow whistle finally recalled his men, as hedid not wish them to become scattered among the mountains in pursuit ofdetached guerrillas. Although the escape of both Slade and Skelly wasa great disappointment the victory nevertheless was complete. The twoleaders could not rally the brigand force again, because it had ceasedto exist. Nearly half, caught between the jaws of the Union vise, hadfallen, and most of the others were taken. Perhaps not more than fiftyhad got away, and they would be lucky if they were not captured by themountaineers.

  Dick's head was bound up hastily but skillfully by Sergeant Whitley andShepard. Slade's bullet had merely cut under the hair a little, andthe bandage stopped the flow of blood. The sting, too, left, or in histriumph he did not notice it. His elation, in truth, was great, as hehad succeeded in carrying out the hardest part of a difficult anddelicate operation.

  As he led his men back toward the valley, their prisoners driven beforethem, he felt no weariness from his great exertions, and both his headand his feet were light. At the rim of the valley Colonel Winchestermet him, shook his hand with great heartiness, and congratulated him onhis success, and Warner and Pennington, who were wholly without envy,added their own praise.

  "I think it will be Captain Mason before long," said Warner. "Lots ofboys under twenty are captains and some are colonels. Your right topromotion is a mathematical certainty, and I can demonstrate it withnumerous formulae from the little algebra which even now is in theinside pocket of my tunic."

  "Don't draw the algebra!" exclaimed Pennington. "We take your word forit, of course."

  "I shouldn't want to be a captain," said Dick sincerely, "unless youfellows became captains too."

  Further talk was interrupted by the necessity for care in making thesteep descent into the valley, where the fires were blazing anew fromthe fresh wood which the young soldiers in their triumph had thrownupon the coals. Nor did Colonel Winchester and his senior officersmake any effort to restrain them, knowing that a little exultation wasgood for youth, after deeds well done.

  It was still snowing lazily, but the flames from a dozen big firesfilled the valley with light and warmth and illuminated the sullenfaces of the captives. They were a sinister lot, arrayed in fadedUnion or Confederate uniforms, the refuse of highland and lowland,gathered together for robbery and murder, under the protecting shadowof war. Their hair was long and unkempt, their faces unshaven anddirty, and they watched their captors with the restless, evasive eyesof guilt. They were herded in the center of the valley, and ColonelWinchester did not hesitate to bind the arms of the most evil looking.

  "What are you going to do with us?" asked one bold, black-browedvillain.

  "I'm going to take you to General Sheridan," replied the colonel. "I'mglad I don't have the responsibility of deciding your fate, but I thinkit very likely that he'll hang some of you, and that all of you richlydeserve it."

  The man muttered savage oaths under his breath and the colonel added:

  "Meanwhile you'll be surrounded by at least fifty guards with rifles ofthe latest style, rifles that they can shoot very fast, and they areinstructed to use them if you make the slightest sign of an attempt toescape. I warn you that they will obey with eagerness."

  The man ceased his mutterings and he and the other captives cowered bythe fire, as if their blood had suddenly grown so thin that they mustalmost touch the coals to secure warmth. Then Colonel Winchesterordered the cooks to prepare food and coffee again for his troopers,who had done so well, while a surgeon, with amateur but competentassistants, attended to the hurt.

  While they ate and drank and basked in the heat, the mountaineer, Reed,came again to Colonel Winchester. Dick, who was standing by, observedhis air of deep satisfaction, and he wondered again at the curiousmixture of mountain character, its strong religious strain, mingledwith its merciless hatred of a foe. He knew that much of Reed's greatcontent came from his slaying of the two traitors, but he did not feelthat he had a right, at such a time, to question the man's motives andactions.

  "Colonel," said Reed, "it's lucky that my men brought along plenty ofaxes, an' that your men ez well ez mine know how to use 'em."

  "Why so, Mr. Reed?"

  "'Cause it's growin' warmer."

  "But that doesn't hurt us. We're certainly not asking for more cold."

  "It will hurt us, ef we don't take some shelter ag'in it. It's snowin'now, colonel, an' ef it gits a little warmer it'll turn to rain, an' itkin rain pow'ful hard in these mountings."

  "Thank you for calling my attention to it, Mr. Reed. I can't afford tohave the troops soaked by winter rains. Not knowing what we had toexpect in the mountains I fortunately ordered about twenty of my ownmen to bring axes at their saddlebows. We'll put 'em all at work."

  In a few minutes thirty good axmen were cutting down trees, saplingsand bushes, and more than a hundred others were strengthening thelean-tos, thatching roofs, and making rude but serviceable floors.Dick, owing to his slight wound, but much against his wish, was orderedinto the house, where he spread his blankets near a window, although hecould not yet sleep, all the heat of the battle and pursuit not yethaving left him. His nerves still tingling with excitement, he stood atthe window and looked out.

  He saw the great fire blazing and many persons passing and repassingbefore the red glow. He saw the captives crouching together, and thered gleam on the bayonets of the men who guarded them. He saw Warnerand Pendleton go into one of the lean-tos, and he saw ColonelWinchester, accompanied by Shepard and the sergeant, go down the valleytoward the exit.

  After a while the prisoners moved to the lean-tos, and then everybodytook shelter. The crackle of the big fires changed to a hiss, and moresmoke arose from them. The reason was obvious. The big flakes of snowhad ceased to fall, and big drops of rain were falling in their place.Reed had been a true prophet, and he had not given his warning too soon.

  The rain increased. Dick heard it driving on the window panes andbeating on the roof. All the fires in the valley were out now, andrising mists and vapors hid nearly everything. The faint, slidingsound of more snow-falls precipitated by the rain came to his ears. Herealized suddenly how fine a thing it was to be inside four walls, andwith it came a great feeling of comfort. It was the same feeling thathe had known often in childhood, when he lay in his bed and heard thestorm beat against the house.

  There were others in the room--the floor was almost covered withthem--but all of them were asleep already, and Dick, wrapping himselfin his blanket, joined them, the last thing that he remembered beingthe swish of the rain against the glass. He slept heavily and was notawakened until nearly noon, when he saw through the window a worldentirely changed. The rain had melted only a portion of the snow, andwhen it ceased after sunrise the day had turned much colder, freezingevery thing hard and tight. The surface of valley, slopes and ridgeswas covered with a thick armor of ice, smooth as glass, and giving backthe rays of a brilliant sun in colors as vivid and varied as those of arainbow. Every tree and bush, to the last little twig, was sheathedalso in silver, and along the slopes the forests of dwarfed cedar andpines were a vast field of delicate and complex tracery.

  It was a glittering and beautiful world, but cold and merciless. Dicksaw at once that the whole force, captors and captured, was shut in forthe time. It was impossible for horses to advance over a field of ice,and it was too difficult even for men to be considered seriously. Therewas nothing to do but remain in the valley until circumstances allowedthem to move, and reflection told him they would not lose much by it.They had done the errand on which they were sent, and there was littlework left in the great valley itself.

  The big fires had been lighted again, the cove furnishing wood enoughfor many days, and within its limited area they brought back glow andcheeriness. Dick went outside and found all the men in high spirits.They expected to be held there until a thaw came, but there would be nodif
ficulty, except to obtain forage for the horses, which they must digfrom under the snow, or which some of the surest footed mountaineersmust bring over the ridge. He heard that Colonel Winchester wasalready making arrangements with Reed, and he was too light-hearted tobother himself any more about it.

  Warner and Pennington saluted him with bows as a coming captain, anddeclared that he looked extremely interesting with a white bandagearound his head.

  "It's merely to prevent bleeding," said Dick. "The bullet didn'treally hurt me, and it won't leave a scar under the hair."

  "Then since you're not even an invalid," said Pennington, "come on andtake your bath. The boys have broken the ice for a long distance onthe creek and all of us early risers have gone there for a plunge, anda short swim. It'll do you a world of good, Dick, but don't stay intoo long."

  "Not over a half hour," said Warner.

  "O, a quarter of an hour will be long enough," said Pennington, "butI'd advise you to rub yourself down thoroughly, Dick."

  "I'll do just as you did," laughed Dick.

  "And what's that?"

  "I'll go to the edge of the creek, look at it, and shiver when I seehow cold its waters are. Then I'll kneel down on the bank, bathe myface, and come away."

  "You've estimated him correctly, Dick," said Warner, "but you don'thave to shiver as much as Frank did."

  The cold bath, although it was confined to the face only, made hisblood leap and sparkle. He was not a coming captain but a boy again,and he began to think about pleasant ways of passing the time while theice held them. After his breakfast he joined Colonel Winchester, whodebated the question further with a group of officers. But there wasonly one conclusion to which they could come, and that had presenteditself already to Dick's mind, namely, to wait as patiently as theycould for a thaw, while Shepard, the sergeant and two or three othersmade their way on foot into the Shenandoah valley to inform Sheridan ofwhat had transpired.

  The messengers departed as soon as the conference closed, and thelittle army was left to pass the time as it chose in the cove. Buttime did not weigh heavily upon the young troops. As it grew colderand colder they added to the walls and roofs of their improvisedshelters. There was scarcely a man among them who had not been bred tothe ax, and the forest in the valley rang continually with theirskillful strokes. Then the logs were notched and in a day or two rudebut real cabins were raised, in which they slept, dry and warm.

  The fires outside were never permitted to die down, the flames alwaysleaped up from great beds of coals, and warmth and the comforts thatfollow were diffused everywhere. The lads, when they were not workingon the houses, mended their saddles and bridles or their clothes, andwhen they had nothing else to do they sang war songs or the sentimentalballads of home. It was a fine place for singing--Warner described theacoustics of the valley as perfect--and the ridges and gorges gave backthe greatest series of echoes any of them had ever heard.

  "If this place didn't have a name already," said Pennington, "I'd callit Echo Cove, and the echoes are flattering, too. Whenever Georgesings his voice always comes back in highly improved tones, somethingthat we can stand very well."

  "My voice may not be as mellow as Mario's," said Warner calmly, "but mytechnique is perfect. Music is chiefly an affair of mathematics, aseverybody knows, or at least it is eighty per cent, the rest beingvoice, a mere gift of birth. So, as I am unassailable in mathematics,I'm a much better singer than the common and vulgar lot who merely havevoice."

  "That being the case," said Pennington, "you should sing for yourselfonly and admire your own wonderful technique."

  "I never sing unless I'm asked to do so," said Warner, with his oldinvincible calm, "and then the competent few who have made anexhaustive study of this most complex science appreciate myachievement. As I said, I should consider it a mark of cheapness if Ipleased the low, vulgar and common herd."

  "With that iron face and satisfied mind of yours you ought to go far,George," said Pennington.

  "Everything is arranged already. I will go far," said Warner in eventones.

  "I wonder what's happening outside in the big valley," said Dick.

  "Whatever it is it's happening without us," said Warner. "But I fancythat General Sheridan will be more uneasy about us than we are abouthim. We know what we have done, that our task is finished, but for allhe knows we may have been trapped and destroyed."

  "But Shepard or the sergeant will get through to him."

  "Not for three or four days anyhow. Not even men on foot can travelfast on a glassy sheet of ice. Every time I look at it on the mountainit seems to grow smoother. If I were standing on top of that ridge andwere to slip I'd come like a catapult clear into the camp."

  "Nothing could tempt me to go up there now," said Dick.

  "Maybe not, nor me either, but as I live somebody is on top of thatridge now."

  Dick's eyes followed his pointing finger, saw a black dot on the utmostsummit, and then he snatched up his glasses.

  "It's Slade, his very self!" he exclaimed in excitement. "I'd knowthat hat anywhere. Now, how under the sun did he come there!"

  "It's more important to know why he has come," said Warner, using hisown glasses. "I see him clearly and there is no doubt that it's thesame robber, traitor and assassin who, unfortunately, escaped when weshot his horde to pieces."

  "He has a rifle with him, and as sure as we live he's sitting down onthe ice, and picking out a target here in the valley."

  "A risky business for Slade. Shooting upward we can take better aim athim than he can at us."

  There was a great stir in the valley, as others saw the figure on themountain and read Slade's intentions. Fifty men sprang to their feetand seized their rifles. But the guerrilla moved swiftly along theknife-edge of the ridge, obviously sure of his footing, and before anyof them could fire, dropped down behind a little group of cedars.Every stem and bough was cased in a sheath of silver mail, but they hidhim well. Dick, with his glasses, could not discern a single outlineof the man behind the glittering tracery.

  But as they looked, a head of red appeared suddenly in the silver,smoke floated away, and a bullet knocked up the ice near them. Theyscattered in lively fashion, and from shelter watched the silver bush.A second bullet came from its foliage and wounded slightly a man whowas carrying wood to one of the fires. But the annoying sharpshooterremained invisible.

  "He's lying down on the ice like a Sioux or Cheyenne in a gully," saidPennington.

  "Maybe he has a gully in the ice," said Dick, "and he can crouch hereand shoot at us all day, almost in perfect safety."

  But Colonel Winchester appeared and ordered a score of the men, withthe heaviest rifles, to shoot away the entire clump of cedars. Theydid it with a method and a regard for mathematics that filled Warner'ssoul with delight, firing in turn and planting their bullets in a linealong the front of the clump, cutting down everything like a mower witha scythe.

  Dick with the glasses saw the ice fly into the air in a silver spray asbush after bush fell. Presently they were all cut away by that streamof heavy bullets, but no human being was disclosed.

  "He's just gone over the other side of the ridge," said Warner indisgust, "and is waiting there until we finish. We couldn't shootthrough a mountain, even if we had one of our biggest cannon here.He'll find another clump of bushes soon and be potting us from it."

  "But we can shoot that away too," said Dick hopefully.

  "We can't shoot down all the forests on the mountain. He must haveheavy hobnails, or, like the mountaineers, he has drawn thick yarnsocks over his boots, else he couldn't scoot about on the ice the wayhe does."

  "Ah, there goes his rifle, behind the clump of bushes to the right ofthe one that we shot away!"

  A second man was wounded by the bullet, and then an extraordinary siegeensued, a siege of three hundred men by a single sharpshooter on top ofa mountain as smooth as glass. Whenever they shot his refuge away hemoved to another, and, while they were
shooting at it he had nothing todo but drop down a few feet on the far side of the ridge and remain inentire safety until he chose another ambush.

  "I suppose this was visited upon us because we were puffed up withpride over our exploits," said Pennington, "but it's an awful jolt tous to have the whole Winchester regiment penned up here and driven tohiding by a single brigand."

  "It's not a jolt," said Warner, "it's a tragedy. Unless we get him wecan never live it down. We may win another Gettysburg all byourselves, but history and also the voice of legend and ironic songwill tell first of the time when Slade, the outlaw, held us all in thecove at the muzzle of his rifle."

  Colonel Winchester, although he did not show it, raged the most of themall. The great taunt would be for him rather than his young officersand troopers, and the blood burned in his veins as he watched theoperations of the sharpshooter on the ridges. One of his men had beenkilled, three had been wounded, and all of them were compelled to seekshelter for their lives as none knew where Slade's bullet would strikenext. In his perplexity he called in Reed, the mountaineer, whofortunately was in camp, and he suggested that they send out a group ofmen through the entrance, who might stalk him from the far side in thesame way that they had crushed his band.

  "But how are they to climb on the smooth ice?" asked the colonel.

  "Wrap the feet uv the men in blankets, an' let 'em use their bayonetsfor a grip in the ice," replied the mountaineer, "an' ef you don'tmind, colonel, I'd like to go along with the party. Mebbe I'd git ashot at that big hat uv Slade's."

  The idea appealed to the colonel, especially as none other offered, andWarner, to his great delight, received command of the party detailedfor the difficult and dangerous duty. Several of the coarsest andheaviest blankets were cut up, and the feet of the men were wrapped inthem in such manner that they would not slip on the ice, althoughretaining full freedom of movement. They tried their "snow shoes"behind the house, where they were sheltered from Slade's bullets, andfound that they could make good speed over the ice.

  "Now be careful, Warner," said Colonel Winchester. "Remember that yourparty also may present a fair target to him, and we don't wish to loseanother man."

  "I'll use every precaution possible, sir," replied Warner, "and I thankyou for giving me this responsibility."

  Then keeping to the shelter of trees he led his men out through thepass, and the soul of Warner, despite his calm exterior, was aflame.Dick had achieved his great task with success, and, in the lesser one,he wished to do as well. It was not jealousy of his comrade, butemulation, and also a desire to meet his own exacting standards. As hedisappeared with his picked sharpshooters and turned the shoulder ofthe mountain his blood was still hot, but his Vermont head was as coolas the ice upon which he trod.

  Warner heard the distant reports of Slade's rifle, and also the crackleof the firing in reply. He knew the colonel would keep Slade so busythat he was not likely to notice the flank movement, and he pressedforward with all the energy of himself and his men. The heavy clotharound their shoes gave them a secure foothold until they reached thesteeper slopes, and there, in accordance with Reed's suggestion, theyused their bayonets as alpenstocks.

  A third of the way up the slope, and they reached one of the clumps ofcedars, into which they crawled. Although a glittering network ofsilver it was a cold covert, but they lay on the ice there and watchedfor Slade's next shot. They heard it a minute later, and then saw himbehind a pine about five hundred yards away. After sending his bulletinto the valley he had withdrawn a little and was slipping anothercartridge into the fine breech-loading rifle that he carried, the mostmodern and highly improved weapon then used, as Warner could clearlysee.

  "Would you let me take a look at him through your glasses?" asked Reed.

  "Certainly," replied Warner, handing them to him.

  "Jest as I thought," said Reed, as he took a long look. "He's donegone plum' mad with the wish to kill. It strikes them evil-mindedcritters that way sometimes, an' he's had so much luck shootin' down atus, an' keepin' a whole little army besieged that it's mounted to hishead. Ef he had his way he'd jest wipe us all out."

  "A sanguinary and savage mind," said Warner. "It's the spirit of therattlesnake or the cobra, and we must exterminate him. He's movingfurther along the ridge, and he's exactly between us and that clump ofcedars, higher up and about three hundred yards away. If we could makethose cedars we would bring him within range. It's a pretty steepclimb, but I want to try it."

  "We kin do it shore by stabbin' our bayonets into the ice and hangin'on to 'em ez we edge up," said Reed optimistically. "The clump itselfwill help hide us, an' Slade ain't likely to look this way. Ez I toldyou he hez gone plum' mad with the blood fever, an' he ain't got eyesfor anythin' except the soldiers in the valley what he wants to shoot."

  "Poison, nothing but poison," said Warner. "We must remove him asspeedily as possible for the sake of the universe. Come on! I mean tolead."

  He emerged from the clump and took his way toward the second cluster,digging a heavy hunting knife into the ice whenever he felt that he wasabout to slip. Reed was just behind him, breathing hard from theclimb, and then came the whole detachment. Warner felt a momentaryshiver lest the guerrilla see them. If he caught them on the steep icebetween the two cedar clumps he could decimate them with ease.

  But fortune was kind and they breathed mighty sighs of relief as theydrew into the second network of silver, where they lay close watchingfor Slade, who had fired three times into the valley while they were onthe way.

  He had gone farther down the ridge, but they saw him partially as hekneeled for another shot. If he moved again in the same directionafter firing they would not be able to reach him, and Warner, Reedagreeing with him, decided that they must make the attempt to removehim now or never. It was a hard target, not much of Slade's bodyshowing, but the entire party took aim and fired together at theleader's word.

  Slade threw up his arms, fell back on their side of the mountain andthen slid down the slippery slope. Warner watched him with a kind ofhorrified fascination as he shot over the clear ice. His body struck asmall pine presently and shattered it, the broken pieces of the icysheath flying in the air like crystals. After a momentary pause fromthe resistance Slade went on, slid over a shelf, and disappeared in adeep drift.

  "He's out o' business," said Reed. "I reckon we'd better go down thar,an' see ef he's all broke to pieces."

  They climbed down slowly and painfully, reaching the drift, but totheir amazement Slade was not there. They found his rifle and spots ofblood, but the outlaw was gone, a thin red trail that led down a riftshowing the way he went.

  "We hit our b'ar an' took the bite out uv him," said Reedphilosophically, "but we ain't got his hide to show. Still he's allbroke up, jest the same, 'cause he didn't even think to take his gun,an' this red trail shows that we won't be bothered by him ag'in fur along time."

  Warner would have preferred the annihilation or capture of Slade, whomhe truly called a rattlesnake or cobra, but he was satisfied,nevertheless. He had destroyed the guerrilla's power to harm for a longtime, at least, and not a man of his had been hurt. He was sure toreceive Colonel Winchester's words of approval, and he felt the swellof pride, but did not show it by word or manner.

  Carrying the rifle, as the visible proof of victory, they returned tothe cove, and received from Colonel Winchester the words for which theywere grateful. Further proof was the failure of Slade to return andthe lifting of the terrible weight which a single man had put uponthem. They could now go about in the open, as they pleased, the bigfires were built up again, and cheerfulness returned.

  The mountaineers brought in more food the next day, and the followingnight Reed and another mountaineer crossed the ridge and were luckyenough to shoot a fat bear in a ravine. They dressed it there, and,between them, managed to bring the body back to the camp. A day laterthey secured another, and there was a great feast of fresh meat.

  That
night the weather rapidly turned warmer and all knew the big thawwas at hand. A long heavy rain that lasted almost until daylighthastened it and great floods roared down the slopes. Tons and tons ofmelting snow also slid into the valley, and the creek became a boomingtorrent. They were more thankful than ever for their huts andlean-tos, and all except the sentinels clung closely to their shelter.

  Throughout the day the mountains were veiled in vapors from the rainand the melting snow, and, after another night, the troop saddled anddeparted, the horses treading ankle deep in mud, but their riders eagerto get away.

  "We overstayed our time," said Dick, looking back, "but it was a goodcove for us. Our presence there tempted the enemy to battle, and wedestroyed him. Then we had shelter and a home when the great stormcame."

  "A good cove, truly," said Pennington, "and we sha'n't forget it."

  When they reached the main pass they found it also deep in mud andmelting snow, and their progress was slow and painful. But before noonthey met Shepard and the sergeant returning with news that they hadcarried an account of the victory to General Sheridan, but that nothinghad happened in the main valley save a few raids by Mosby. Shepard,who acted as spokesman, was too tactful to say much, but he indicatedvery clearly that the commander-in-chief was highly pleased with thedestruction of the Slade and Skelly band, the maraudings of which hadbecome a great annoyance and danger. Dick was eager to hear more, and,when the opportunity presented itself, he questioned the sergeantprivately.

  "What do we hear from Petersburg?" he asked. "Is the deadlock therebroken?"

  "Not yet, sir," replied the sergeant. "The winter being so very severethe troops are not able to do much. General Lee still holds his lines."

  "I suppose that General Grant doesn't care to risk another Cold Harbor,but what has been done here in the Valley of Virginia should enable himto turn Lee's flank in the spring."

  "I take it that you're right, sir. General Lee is a hard nut to crack,as we all know, but his army is wearing away. In the spring the shellof the nut will be so thin that we'll smash it."

  The column, after its exploit, reported to Sheridan at Winchester, thelittle city around which and through which the war rolled for four longyears, and where two great commanders, one of the gray and the other ofthe blue, had their headquarters at times. But Colonel Winchester andhis young staff officers rode through streets that were faced by closedshutters and windows. Nowhere was the hostility to the Northern troopsmore bitter and intense than in Winchester, the beloved city of thegreat Stonewall which had seen with its own eyes so many of histriumphs.

  Dick and his comrades had learned long since not to speak to the womenand girls for fear of their sharp tongues, and in his heart he couldnot blame them. Youth did not keep him from having a philosophical anddiscerning mind, and he knew that in the strongest of people theemotions often triumph over logic and reason. Warner's little algebrawas all right, when the question was algebraic, but sentiment andpassion had a great deal to do with the affairs of the world, and,where they were concerned, the book was of no value at all.

  Dick's new rank of captain was conferred upon him by General Sheridanhimself, and it was accompanied by a compliment which though true madehim blush in his modesty. A few days later Warner received the samerank for his achievement in driving away Slade, and it was conferredupon Pennington too for general excellence. The three were supremelyhappy and longed for more enemies to conquer, but a long period ofcomparative idleness ensued. The winter continued of unexampledseverity, and they spent most of the time in camp, although they didnot waste it. Several books of mathematics came from the North toWarner and he spent many happy evenings in their study. Dick got holdof a German grammar and exercise book, and, several others joining him,they made a little class, which though it met irregularly, learnedmuch. Pennington was a wonder among the horses. When theveterinarians were at a loss they sent for him and he rarely failed ofa cure. He modestly ascribed his merit to his father who taught himeverything about horses on the great plains, where a man's horse was sooften the sole barrier between him and death.

  Thus the winter went on, and they longed eagerly for spring, thebreaking up of the great cold, and the last campaign.