CHAPTER II
AFTER THE DESPATCH-BEARER
I was cool-headed, and accustomed to this species of adventure, or Ishould never have been there. Yet, I confess my nerves tingled as Icrept cautiously forward through the fringe of bushes, seeking the exactspot where the major had disappeared down what must have been somespecies of road. There were sentinels posted about the tent; I saw thesilhouette of one, and heard several voices conversing gruffly as Islunk past, yet could not definitely locate these last in the gloom.There was a little row of tents--three or four--back of the larger oneoccupied by the general; but these were unlighted and silent. I creptpast them unobserved, emerging into a more open space, where my gropinghands encountered wheel-tracks, and the beaten earth of a road.
This apparently ran nearly east and west, as I recalled direction, and Iturned to the right, bending low in the shadows, and advancing at acrouching run. Seemingly there was nothing to obstruct progress. Thenoise of stomping and restless horses reached me from the left,evidence of a nearby cavalry or artillery camp; yet I saw no one,perceived no light even, until after advancing at least a quarter of amile. Then a sudden slight turn in the road brought me upon a rudeshack, showing a blacksmith's fire glowing within, and the smith himselfpounding busily away at an anvil. The gleam of the forge shot out redlyacross the road. As I crept closer I could perceive the figures ofothers lounging about inside--soldiers, no doubt, although I could notbe certain. There was a ragged Confederate cavalry jacket hanging over arain-barrel just outside the window, and, getting hold of it, I slippedit on over my woollen shirt. The night air was chill, my clothes stilldamp from the river, and besides it might help later on. As I did this arider came flying up the road, bending low over his pommel. He went pastat a slashing gallop, his face showing an instant in the red glare ofthe flame. That, no doubt, would be the aide with the despatches, yet,in spite of his haste, he would have to wait to the end of the hour forBillie. One or two of the men came lazily to the front of the shop towatch him go by, and I crouched down behind the rain-barrel until theywent back again. Then I skirted the bar of flame, and ran on down theroad, a bit recklessly, fearing the horseman might get too far ahead.
It was intensely dark, one of those dense nights when the blacknessappears to press down upon one, and there were noises on either side tomake me aware that I was in the midst of a great encampment. Fires shonedimly through the trees, and I could hear voices and hammering. Isupposed the road I was travelling ran directly through the main camp,with troops on either side, and, for that reason, was not patrolled bypickets. Anyhow I passed without challenge, although I met a few fellowsslinking along about as I was--soldiers out of bounds most likely, asafraid of me as I was of them. At least whenever I bumped into one, hegot out of the way fast enough. And I never paused to explain--all Iwanted to do was to arrive at those cross-roads in advance of Billie.
However I failed in this ambition, but merely because the road I wasfollowing did not keep on directly west, but drifted off toward theriver. I only became aware of this change in direction when weintersected a cross-road, and then I ran squarely up against apicket-post, the men having a fire burning to keep them warm. The lightof the flames revealed everything within a radius of a hundred feet, andI could distinguish a dozen infantrymen sitting and lying about, while acouple of others marched back and forth across the road. I wanted to getfarther south, but had only wriggled through the bushes a few yards inthat direction before sinking to my knees in mud and water, and beingcompelled to crawl back. There was nothing left except to circle thefire in the opposite direction, and come out on the road below. I musthave used up a good quarter of an hour getting through. Twice I mademissteps, and some racket, but there was no challenge. I emerged at theopening of a small ravine, where I could lie down flat behind a lowrock, and look back up the road, which ran down hill. I felt reasonablycertain Billie would have to come this way if he intended to cross theriver at Carter's Ford, and I knew of no other place he could cross thisside the big bridge. The aide would be riding with him, of course, andthat would make me certain of my man when he came, although how I wasever going to manage was more than I had as yet figured out.
I must have been there some twenty minutes, maybe more, burrowing downinto the mud under the lee of the stone, staring straight up the hill atthe fire. The post was relieved while I lay there, the fellows going offduty tramping past so close I could have touched them. I could stillhear the tread of their feet when one of the new guard yelled out"Halt!" and I saw two or three men spring up from around the fire,while the corporal in command ran out into the middle of the road. Somesort of a rig was coming down the hill, with a cavalry officer--judgingfrom his cape--riding along close beside it. I was not able to see veryplainly the way the light fell, but the contrivance looked to me likeone of those old-fashioned, two-wheeled carryalls, with a low top overit, and drawn by a horse not much bigger than a pony. The officer dug inhis spurs and got ahead, leaning over to whisper to the corporal, whostepped back saluting. The carryall never stopped at all, the ponytrotting along unconcernedly, and it was so dark beneath the top I couldnot see sign of anybody. It was a queer-looking outfit, but I had nodoubt this would be Billie, and the despatches.
The officer was still riding ahead when they passed me, his cape blownup over his hat, and his head bent forward to make out the road, asthough his eyes still remained blinded by the firelight. Withoutdefinite plan, yet firmly determined not to be left behind, I squirmedacross the road, ran up close to the carryall, and caught hold at therear. The soldiers back in the glare saw nothing, while the minglednoise of hoofs and wheels left me unheard. I discovered my fingersgrasping some narrow wooden slats, held up firmly against the back ofthe vehicle by a chain at each end. For a moment, running and hangingon as I was in total darkness, I was unable to figure out what sort ofan arrangement this could possibly be. Then I managed to feel it outwith one hand--it was simply a shelf, capable of being lowered thelength of the supporting chains, on which packages, or baggage, might becarried, while above was a roll of canvas, to be used as protection fromrain. Here was opportunity, and I went at it with eagerness. It proved ahard job, running over that rough road in the dark, while the ponytrotted tirelessly, but I got those chains unfastened, one at a time,and then the shelf settled naturally down into position. It was narrow,and I felt some question as to the strength of the supports, but riskingall this, managed to work my way up until I half lay, half crouched,along the slats, holding on grimly as the two wheels bounced brisklyfrom side to side, threatening to send me sprawling out into the road.By this time the officer had reined back his horse, but was still out ofsight, and I succeeded in unbuckling the straps, and lowering the stripof canvas over me, stuffing the edges beneath my body so as to keep themfrom flapping. I was tired and sore, but now reasonably safe, with myeyes at an opening through which I could gaze out. I began to feelhappy, too, thinking of the surprise which was about to come to Billie.
We clattered on down a long slope, apparently making no effort to avoidnoise. It seemed we must be drawing near the river, yet the night was sodark, and our passage so rapid, I could make out no familiar landmarksthrough my peep-hole. Indeed I had about all I could do to hold on. Wewere halted twice, but a word from the officer passed us along safely.One picket-post had a fire glowing in close against the rocks, and thesergeant stood within a foot of me. I caught the word "Cumberland," butwhatever else of explanation may have been uttered failed to reach myears, muffled as they were beneath the canvas. A few hundred yardsbeyond this point, at the end of a deep cut, the officer drew up hishorse sharply, leaned over the wheel, and shook hands with theperson inside.
"I have attained my limit," he said. "That was our last picket-post backyonder, and my orders were strict. You know the road, of course."
"Perfectly, Lieutenant," responded a low voice, muffled under the hood."I have travelled it often before. I thank you so much, and think itwill all come out right this time."
&nbs
p; "I have no doubt of that," he replied, with a little laugh. "Hope I mayrenew the acquaintance under more pleasant circumstances. Meanwhile,good luck and good-bye."
He sat erect upon his horse, watching as we clattered past, appearingscarcely more than a dim shadow, yet I thought he held his hat in hishand. Billie laid on the gad, however, as if to make up for lost time,and the pony trotted off at such a burst of speed as to keep me busyclinging to my perch. It was an exceedingly rough road, rutty and stony,up hill and down, while the pony condescended to walk on the steepestgrades only, and occasionally took the declines at a gallop, thecarryall bounding from side to side as though mad. Apparently no fear ofpossible disaster disturbed Billie, however, for I could hear every fewmoments the slash of a whip on the animal's flank. I knew that, by thistime, we must certainly be well between the lines, but, for the life ofme, could not determine where. I thought I knew the surrounding countryas I had scouted over it for months, tracing roads and bridle-paths, yetI was puzzled now. If this road continued to run north and south, as ithad back yonder, then we should have forded the river long before this,yet we had splashed through no water, nor did I recall our makingany turn.
One fact alone seemed certain: as I knew neither where we were, norwhither bound, and as we were already assuredly beyond the lastConfederate outpost, it behooved me to act as quickly as possible.Billie was headed somewhere, and the sooner I stopped him thebetter--besides, my position was neither comfortable nor safe. I rolledoff from the edge of the canvas, and, gripping the chains tightly,managed to sit up, in spite of the vicious pitching of the vehicle.Billie's evident eagerness to arrive at his unknown destination onlyadded to my own recklessness, and I hung on desperately, swearing alittle, I fear, under my breath.
Love under Fire Page 2
