CHAPTER XIII. PERRYVILLE
Dick slept very well that night. The water from the little spring,gushing out from under the rock, had refreshed him greatly. He wouldhave rejoiced in another bath, such as one as they had luxuriated inthat night before Frankfort, but it was a thing not be dreamed of now,and making the best of things as they were, he had gone to sleep amonghis comrades.
The dryness of the ground had at least one advantage. They had not coldsand rheumatism to fear, and, with warm earth beneath them and fresh airabove, they slept more soundly than if they had been in their own beds.But while they were sleeping the wary Sergeant Whitley was slippingforward among the woods and ravines. He had received permission fromColonel Winchester, confirmed by a higher officer, to go on a scout, andhe meant to use his opportunity. He had made many a scouting trip onthe plains, where there was less cover than here, and there torture anddeath were certain if captured, but here it would only be imprisonmentamong men who were in no sense his personal enemies, and who would notill-treat him. So the sergeant took plenty of chances.
He passed the Union pickets, entered a ravine which led up between twohills and followed it for some distance. In a cross ravine he found alittle stream of water, flowing down from some high, rocky ground above,and, at one point, he came to a pool several yards across and three orfour feet deep. It was cool and fresh, and the sergeant could not resistthe temptation to slip off his clothes and dive into it once or twice.He slipped his clothes on again, the whole not consuming more than fiveminutes, and then went on much better equipped for war than he had beenfive minutes before.
Then he descended the hills and came down into a valley crossed by acreek, which in ordinary times had plenty of water, but which was nowreduced to a few muddy pools. The Southern pickets did not reach so far,and save for the two tiny streams in the hills this was all the waterthat the Northern army could reach. Farther down, its muddy and detachedstream lay within the Confederate lines.
Crossing the creek's bed the sergeant ascended a wooded ridge, and nowhe proceeded with extreme caution. He had learned that beyond this ridgewas another creek containing much more water than the first. Upon itsbanks at the crossing of the road stood the village of Perryville, andthere, according to his best information and belief, lay the Southernarmy. But he meant to see with his own eyes and hear with his own ears,and thus return to McCook's force with absolute certainty.
The sergeant, as he had expected, found cover more plentiful than it wason the plains, but he never stalked an Indian camp with more caution. Heknew that the most of the Southern scouts and skirmishers were as waryas the Indians that once hunted in these woods, and that, unless he usedextreme care, he was not likely to get past them.
He came at last to a point where he lay down flat on his stomach andwormed himself along, keeping in the thickest shadow of woods andbushes. The night was bright, and although his own body was blended withthe ground, he could see well about him. The sergeant was a very patientman. Life as a lumberman and then as a soldier on the plains had taughthim to look where he was crawling. He spent a full hour worming himselfup to the crest of that ridge and a little way down on the other side.In the course of the last fifteen minutes he passed directly between twoalert and vigilant Southern pickets. They looked his way several times,but the sergeant was so much in harmony with the color scheme of theearth on which he crept, that no blame lay upon them for not seeing him.
The sergeant was already hearing with his own ears. He heard thesepickets and others talking in low voices of the Northern army and oftheir own. They knew that Buell's great force was approaching fromdifferent points and that a battle was expected on the morrow. He knewthis already, but he wanted to know how much of the Confederate army layin Perryville, and he intended to see with his own eyes.
Having passed the first line of pickets the sergeant advanced morerapidly, although he still kept well under cover. Advancing thus hereached the bed of the creek and hid himself against the bank, allowinghis body to drop down in the water, in order that he might feel theglorious cool thrill again, and also that he might be hidden to theneck. His rifle and ammunition he laid at the edge of the bank withinreach. Situated thus comfortably, he used his excellent eyes withexcellent results. He could see Perryville on his left, and also a greatcamp on some heights that ran along the creek. There were plenty oflights in this camp, and, despite the lateness of the hour, officerswere passing about.
It was obvious to the sergeant that many thousands of soldiers were onthose heights, and now he wanted to hear again with his own ears. He didnot dare go any nearer, and the water in the creek was growing cold tohis body. But his patience was great, and still he waited, only his headshowing above the water, and it hidden in the black gloom of the bank'sshadows.
His reward came by-and-by. A number of cavalrymen led their horses downto the creek to drink, and while the horses drank and then blew thewater away from their noses, the men talked at some length, enabling thesergeant to pick up important scraps of information.
He learned that the heights were occupied by Hardee with two divisions.It was the same Hardee, the famous tactician who had been one of theSouthern generals at Shiloh. Polk was expected, but he had not yet comeup. Bragg, too, would be there.
The brave sergeant's heart thumped as he listened. He gathered thatPolk, perhaps, could not arrive before noon, and here was a brilliantchance to destroy a large part of the Southern army early in themorning.
He waited until all the cavalrymen had gone away with their horses, andthen he crawled cautiously out of the stream. His limbs were cold andstiff, but his enforced exercise in crawling soon brought back theirflexibility. He passed between the pickets again, and, when he wassafely beyond their hearing, he rose and stretched himself again andagain.
The sergeant greatly preferred walking to crawling. Primitive men mighthave crawled, but to do so made the modern man's knees uncommonly sore.So he continued to stretch, to inhale great draughts of air, and to feelproudly that he was a man who walked upright and not a bear or a pigcreeping on four legs through the bushes.
He reached his own army not long afterward, and, walking among thethousands of sleeping forms, reached the tree under which ColonelWinchester slept.
"Colonel," he said gently.
The colonel awoke instantly and sat up. Despite the dusk he recognizedWhitley at once.
"Well, sergeant?" he said.
"I've been clean over the ridge to the rebel camp. I reached the nextcreek and lay on the heights just beyond it. I've seen with my owneyes and I've heard with my own ears. They've only two divisions there,though they're expectin' Polk to come up in the mornin' an' Bragg, too.Colonel, I'm a good reckoner, as I've seen lots of war, and they ain'tgot more `n fifteen thousand men there on the creek, while if we get allour divisions together we can hit `em with nigh on to sixty thousand.For God's sake, Colonel, can't we do it?"
"We ought to, and if I can do anything, we will. Sergeant, you've done agreat service at a great risk, and all of us owe you thanks. I shall seeGeneral McCook at once."
The sergeant, forgetting that he was wet to the skin, stretched himselfin the dry grass near Dick and his comrades, and soon fell fast asleep,while his clothes dried upon him. But Colonel Winchester went to GeneralMcCook's tent and insisted upon awakening him. The general received himeagerly and listened with close attention.
"This man Whitley is trustworthy?" he said.
"Absolutely. He has had years of experience on the plains, fightingSioux, Cheyennes and other Indians, and he has been with me through mostof the war so far. There is probably no more skillful scout, and nonewith a clearer head and better judgment in either army."
"Then, Colonel, we owe him thanks, and you thanks for letting him go.We'll certainly bring on a battle to-morrow, and we ought to have allour army present. I shall send a messenger at once to General Buell withyour news. Messengers shall also go to Crittenden, Rousseau, and theother generals. But you recognize, of course, that
General Buell isthe commander-in-chief, and that it is for him to make the finalarrangements."
"I do, sir," said the colonel, as he saluted and retired. He went backto the point where his own little regiment lay. He knew every man andboy in it, and he had known them all in the beginning, when they weremany times more. But few of the splendid regiment with which he hadstarted south a year and a half before remained. He looked at Dick andWarner and Pennington and the sergeant and wondered if they would bepresent to answer to the roll the next night, or if he himself would bethere?
The colonel cherished no illusions. He was not sanguine that the wholeUnion army would come up, and even if it came, and if victory should bewon it would be dark and bloody. He knew how the Southerners fought, andhere more so than anywhere else, it would be brother against brother.This state was divided more than any other, and, however the battlewent, kindred would meet kindred. Colonel Kenton, Dick's uncle, a manwhom he liked and admired, was undoubtedly across those ridges, and theymight meet face to face in the coming battle.
It was far into the morning now and the colonel did not sleep again. Hesaw the messengers leaving the tent of General McCook, and he knew thatthe commander of the division was active. Just what success he wouldhave would remain for the morrow to say. The colonel saw the dawn come.The dry fields and forests reddened with the rising sun, and then thearmy rose up from its sleep. The cooks had already prepared coffee andfood.
"Show me the enemy," said Pennington fiercely, "and as soon as I finishthis cup of coffee, I'll go over and give him the thrashing he needs."
"He's just across those ridges, sir, and on the banks of the far creek,"said Sergeant Whitley.
"How do you know?"
"I made a call on him last night."
"You did? And what did he say?"
"I didn't send in my card. I just took a look at his front door and cameaway. He's at home, waiting and willing to give us a fight."
"Well, it's a fine day for a battle anyway. Look what a splendid sun isrising! And you can see the soft haze of fall over the hills and woods."
"It's not as fine a fall as usual in Kentucky," said Dick, in anapologetic tone to Warner and Pennington. "It's been so dry that theleaves are falling too early, and the reds, the yellows and the brownsare not so bright."
"Never mind, Dickie, boy," said Warner consolingly. "We'll see it in abetter year, because Pennington and I are both coming back to spendsix months with you when this war is over. I've already accepted theinvitation. So get ready for us, Dick."
"It's an understood thing now," said Dick sincerely. "There go thetrumpets, and they mean for us to get in line."
A large portion of the division was already on the way, having startedat five o'clock, and the little Winchester regiment was soon marching,too. The day was again hot. October, even, did not seem able to breakthat singular heat, and the dust was soon billowing about them incolumns, stinging and burning them. The sergeant the night before hadtaken a short cut through the hills, but the brigades, needing widespaces, marched along the roads and through the fields. A portion oftheir own army was hidden from them by ridges and forest, and Dick didnot know whether Buell with the other half of the army had come up.
After a long and exhausting march they stopped, and the Winchesterregiment and the Ohio lads concluded that they had been wrong afterall. No battle would be fought that day. They were willing now, too, topostpone it, as they were almost exhausted by heat and thirst, and thatstinging, burning dust was maddening. A portion of their line restedon the first creek, and they drank eagerly of the muddy water. Dick sawbefore him fields in which the corn stood thick and heavy. The fieldswere divided by hedges which cut off the view somewhat and which thesergeant said would furnish great ambush for sharpshooters.
The men were now allowed to lie down, but most of them were stillpanting with the heat. The three boys on horseback rode with ColonelWinchester to the crest of a low hill, just beyond the first creek. Fromthat point they clearly saw the enemy gathered in battle array along thesecond stream. Dick, with his glasses, saw the batteries, and could evenmark the sun-browned faces of the men.
"Has General Buell come?" he asked Colonel Winchester.
"He has not. Not half of our army is here."
The answer was made with emphasis and chagrin. There was a report thatBuell did not intend to attack until the following day, when he wouldhave his numbers well in hand.
"Under the circumstances," said the colonel, "we have to wait. Betterget off your horses, boys, and hunt the shade."
They rode back and obeyed. It was now getting well along into theafternoon. Thousands of soldiers lay on the grass in the shadiest placesthey could find. Many were asleep. Overhead the sun burned and burned ina sky of absolute blazing white.
A cannon boomed suddenly and then another. The artillery of the twoarmies watching one another had opened at long range, but the fire wasso distant that it did no harm. Dick and his comrades watched the shellsin their flight, noting the trails of white smoke they left behind, andthen the showers of earth that flew up when they burst. It was rather apleasant occupation to watch them. In a way it broke the monotony of along summer day.
They did not know that Polk, the bishop-general, was arriving at thatmoment in the Southern camp with five thousand men. Bragg had come, too,but he left the command to Polk, who outranked Hardee, and the threetogether listened to the long-range cannonade, while they also examinedwith powerful glasses the Union army which was now mostly lying on theground.
Dick himself felt a strong temptation to sleep. The march through theheat that morning had been dusty and tiresome, and the warm wind thatblew over him made his eyelids very heavy. The cannonade itself wasconducive to slumber. The guns were fired at regular intervals, whichcreated a sort of rhythm. The shells with their trailing white smokeceased to interest him, and his eyelids grew heavier. It was now about2:30 o'clock and as his eyes were about to close a sudden shout made himopen them wide and then spring to his feet.
"Look out! Look out!" cried Sergeant Whitley, "The Johnnies are coming!"
The Union forces in an instant were in line, rifles ready and eager.The gray masses were already charging across the fields and hills, whiletheir cannon made a sudden and rapid increase in the volume of fire.Their batteries were coming nearer, too, and the shells hithertoharmless were now shrieking and hissing among their ranks, killing andwounding.
Dick looked around him. The members of the slim Winchester regiment wereall veterans; but thousands of the Ohio lads were recruits who had neverseen battle before. Now shell and shot were teaching them the terriblerealities. He saw many a face grow pale, as his own had often grownpale, in the first minutes of battle, but he did not see any one flinch.
The Northern cannon posted in the intervals and along the edges ofthe woods opened with a mighty crash, and as the enemy came nearer theriflemen began to send a hail of bullets. But the charge did not break.It was led by Buckner, taken at Donelson, but now exchanged, and some ofthe best troops of the South followed him.
"Steady! Steady!" shouted Colonel Winchester. The ranks were so closethat he and all of his staff, having no room for their horses, haddismounted, and they stood now in the front rank, encouraging the men tomeet the charge. But the rush of the Southern veterans was so suddenand fierce that despite every effort of valor the division gave way,suffering frightful losses.
Two of the Union generals seeking to hold their men were killed. Eachside rushed forward reinforcements. A stream of Confederates issued froma wood and flung themselves upon the Union flank. Dick was dazed withthe suddenness and ferocity with which the two armies had closed inmortal combat. He could see but little. He was half blinded by thesmoke, the flash of rifles and cannon and the dust. Officers andmen were falling all around him. The numbers were not so great asat Antietam, but it seemed to him that within the contracted area ofPerryville the fight was even more fierce and deadly than it had been onthat famous Maryland field.
Bu
t he was conscious of one thing. They were being borne back. Tears ofrage ran down his face. Was it always to be this way? Were their numbersnever to be of any avail? He heard some one shout for Buell, and heheard some one else shout in reply that he was far away, as he had beenat Shiloh.
It was true. The wind blowing away from him, Buell had not yet hearda sound from the raging battle, which for its numbers and the time itlasted, was probably the fiercest ever fought on the American continent.The larger Union force, divided by ridges and thick woods from thefield, had not heard the fire of a single cannon, and did not know thattwo armies were engaged in deadly combat so near.
Dick kept close to Colonel Winchester and Warner and Pennington wereby his side. The sergeant was also near. There was no chance to giveor send orders, and the officers, snatching up the rifles of the fallensoldiers, fought almost as privates. The Winchester regiment performedprodigies of valor on that day, and the Ohio lads strove desperately forevery inch of ground.
It seemed to Dick once that they would hold fast, when he heard in fronta tremendous cry of: "On, my boys!" As the smoke lifted a little he sawthat it was Colonel Kenton leading his own trained and veteran regiment.Colonel Winchester and Colonel Kenton, in fact, had met face to face,but the Southern regiment was the more numerous and the stronger.Winchester's men were gradually borne back and the colonel gasped toDick:
"Didn't I see your uncle leading on his regiment?"
"Yes, it was he. It was his regiment that struck us, but he's hidden nowby the smoke."
The Southern rush did not cease. McCook's whole division, between theshallow creeks was driven back, sustaining frightful losses, and itwould have been destroyed, but the artillery of Sheridan on the flanksuddenly opened upon the Southern victors. The Southerners whirled andcharged Sheridan, but his defense was so strong, and so powerful was hisartillery that they were compelled to recoil every time with shatteredranks.
The decimated Ohio regiments beyond the creek were gathering themselvesanew for the battle, and so were the men of Colonel Winchester, nowreduced to half their numbers again. Then a great shout arose. A freshbrigade had come up to their relief, and aided by these new men theymade good the ground upon which they stood.
Another shout arose, telling that Buell was coming, and, two hours afterthe combat had opened, he arrived with more troops. But night was now athand, and the sun set over a draw like that at Antietam. Forty thousandmen had fought a battle only about three hours long, and eight thousandof them lay dead or wounded upon the sanguinary field. One half theUnion army never reached the field in time to fight.
As both sides drew off in the darkness, Dick shouted in triumph,thinking they had won a victory. A bullet fired by some retiringSouthern skirmisher glanced along his head. There was a sudden flash offire before him and then darkness. His body fell on a little slope androlled among some bushes.
The close hot night came down upon the field, and the battle, the mostsanguinary ever fought on Kentucky soil, had closed. Like so many otherterrible struggles of the Civil War, it had been doubtful, or almost,so far as the fighting was concerned. The Northern left wing had beendriven back, but the Northern right wing had held firm against everyattack of the enemy.
Pennington, when he lay panting on the ground with the remnant of theWinchesters, knew little about the result of the combat. He knew thattheir own division had suffered terribly. The Ohio recruits had been cutalmost to pieces, and the Winchester regiment had been reduced by halfagain. He was so tired that he did not believe he could stir for a longtime. He felt no wound, but every bone ached from weariness, and histhroat and mouth seemed to burn with smoke and dust.
Pennington did not see either Dick or Warner, but as soon as he got alittle strength into his limbs he would look for them. No doubt theywere safe. A special providence always watched over those fellows. Itwas true that Warner had been wounded at the Second Manassas, but ahidden power had guided Dick to him, and he got well so fast that he wasable to fight soon afterward at Antietam.
Pennington lay still, and he heard all around him the deep breathing ofmen who, like himself, were so worn that they could scarcely move. Thefield in front of him darkened greatly, but he saw lights moving there,and he knew that they belonged to little parties from either armylooking for the wounded. He began to wonder which side had won thebattle.
"Ohio," he said to one of the Ohio lads who lay near, "did we lick theJohnnies, or did the Johnnies lick us?"
"Blessed if I know, and I don't care much, either. Four fellows that Iused to play with at school were killed right beside me. It was my firstbattle, and, Oh, I tell you, it was awful!"
He gulped suddenly and began to cry. Pennington, who was no older thanhe, patted him soothingly on the shoulder.
"I know that you were the bravest of the brave, because I saw you," hesaid.
"I don't know about that, but I do know that I can never get used tokilling men and seeing them killed."
Pennington was surprised that Dick and Warner had not appeared. Theywould certainly rejoin their own regiment, and he began to feel uneasy.The last shot had been fired, the night was darkening fast and amournful wind blew over the battlefield. But up and down the lines theywere lighting the cooking fires.
Pennington rose to his feet. He saw Colonel Winchester, standing alittle distance away, and he was about to ask him for leave to look forhis comrades, when he was startled by the appearance of a woman, a womanof thirty-eight or nine, tall, slender, dressed well, and as Penningtonplainly saw, very beautiful. But now she was dusty, her face was pale,and her eyes shone with a terrible anxiety. Women were often seen in thecamps at the very verge or close of battle, saying good-bye or lookingfor the lost, but she was unusual.
The soldiers stood aside for her respectfully, and she looked about,until her gaze fell upon the colonel. Then she ran to him, seized him bythe arm, and exclaimed:
"Colonel Winchester! Colonel Winchester!"
"Good heavens, Mrs. Mason! You! How did you come?"
"I was at Danville, not so far from here. Of course I knew that thearmies were about to meet for battle! And it was only two days ago thatI heard the Winchester regiment had come west to join General Buell'sarmy."
A stalwart and powerful colored woman emerged from the darkness and puther arm around Mrs. Mason's waist.
"Don't you get too much excited, chile," she said soothingly.
Juliana stood beside her mistress, a very tower of defense, glaring atthe soldiers about them as if she would resent their curiosity.
"I thought I would come and try to see Dick," continued Mrs. Mason. "Myrelatives sought to persuade me not to do it. They were right, I know,but I wanted to come so badly that I had to do it. We slipped awayyesterday, Juliana and I. We stayed at a farmhouse last night, and thismorning we rode through the woods. We expected to be in the camp thisafternoon, but as we were coming to the edge of the forest we heard thecannon and then the rifles. Through three or four dreadful hours, whilewe shook there in the woods, we listened to a roar and thunder that Iwould have thought impossible."
"The battle was very fierce and terrible," said Colonel Winchester.
"I don't think it could have been more so. We saw a part of it, butonly a confused and awful sweep of smoke and flame. And now, ColonelWinchester, where is my boy, Dick?"
Colonel Winchester's face turned deadly pale, and she noticed it atonce. Her own turned to the same pallor, but she did not shriek orfaint.
"You do not know that he is killed?" she said in a low, distinct tonethat was appalling to the other.
"I missed him only a little while ago," said Colonel Winchester, "andI've been looking for him. But I'm sure he is not dead. He can't be!"
"No, he can't be! I can't think it!" she said, and she looked at thecolonel appealingly.
"If you please, sir," said Pennington, "Lieutenant Warner is missingalso. I think we'll find them together. You remember what happened atthe Second Manassas."
"Yes, Frank, I do re
member it, and your supposition may be right."
He asked a lantern from one of the men, and whispered to Penningtonto come. But Mrs. Mason and Juliana had been standing at strainedattention, and Mrs. Mason inferred at once what was about to be done.
"You mean to look for him on the field," she said. "We will go withyou."
Colonel Winchester opened his lips to protest, but shut them again insilence.
"It is right that you should come," he said a moment later, "but youwill see terrible things."
"I am ready."
She seemed all the more admirable and wonderful to Colonel Winchester,because she did not weep or faint. The deathly pallor on her faceremained, but she held herself firmly erect beside the gigantic coloredwoman.
"Come with me, Pennington," said Colonel Winchester, "and you, too,Sergeant Whitley."
The two men and the boy led the way upon the field, and the two womencame close behind. They soon entered upon the area of conflict. Thecolonel had said that it would be terrible, but Mrs. Mason scarcelydreamed of the reality. It was one vast scene of frightful destruction,of torn and trampled earth and of dead men lying in all directions. Theblack of her faithful servant's face turned to an ashen gray, and shetrembled more than her mistress.
Colonel Winchester had a very clear idea of the line along which hisregiment had advanced and retreated, and he followed it. But the lanterndid not enable them to see far. As happened so often after the greatbattles of the Civil War, the signs began to portend rain. The longdrouth would be broken, but whether by natural change or so much firingColonel Winchester did not know. Despite the lateness of the season dimlightning was seen on the horizon. The great heat was broken by a coolwind that began to blow from the northwest.
The five advanced in silence, the two men and the boy still leading andthe two women following close behind. Colonel Winchester's heart beganto sink yet farther. He had not felt much hope at first, and now he feltscarcely any at all. A few moments later, however, the sergeant suddenlyheld up his hand.
"What is it?" asked the colonel.
"I think I hear somebody calling."
"Like as not. Plenty of wounded men may be calling in delirium."
"But, colonel, I've been on battlefields before, and this sounds likethe voice of some one calling for help."
"Which way do you think it is?"
"To the left and not far off. It's a weak voice."
"We'll turn and follow it. Don't say anything to the others yet."
They curved and walked on, the colonel swinging his lantern from side toside, and now all of them heard the voice distinctly.
"What is that?" exclaimed Mrs. Mason, speaking for the first time sincethey had come upon the field of conflict.
"Some one shouting for help," replied Colonel Winchester. "One could notneglect him at such a time."
"No, that is so."
"It's the voice of Lieutenant Warner, colonel," whispered the sergeant.
Colonel Winchester nodded. "Say nothing as yet," he whispered.
They walked a dozen steps farther and the colonel, swinging high thelantern, disclosed Warner sitting on the trunk of a tree that had beencut through by cannon balls. Warner, as well as they could see, was notwounded, but he seemed to be suffering from an overpowering weakness.The colonel, the sergeant and the boy alike dreaded to see what laybeyond the log, but the two women did not know Warner or that hispresence portended anything.
The Vermonter saw them coming, and raised his hand in a proper saluteto his superior officer. Then as they came nearer, and he saw the whitewoman who came with them, he lifted his head, tried to straighten hisuniform a little with his left hand, and said as he bowed:
"I think this must be Mrs. Mason, Dick's mother."
"It is," said Colonel Winchester, and then they waited a moment or twoin an awful silence.
"I don't rise because there is something heavy lying in my lap whichkeeps me from it," said Warner very quietly, but with deep feeling."After the Second Manassas, where I was badly wounded and left on theground for dead, a boy named Dick Mason hunted over the field, foundme and brought me in. I felt grateful about it and told him that if hehappened to get hit in the same way I'd find him and bring him in as hehad brought me.
"I didn't think the chance would come so soon. Curious how things happenas you don't think they're going to happen, and don't happen as youthink they're going to happen, and here the whole thing comes out inonly a few weeks. We were driven back and I missed Dick as the battleclosed. Of course I came to hunt for him, and I found him. Easy, Mrs.Mason, don't get excited now. Yes, you can have his head in your ownlap, but it must be moved gently. That's where he's hurt. Don't tremble,ma'am. He isn't going to die, not by a long shot. The bullet meant tokill him, but finding his head too hard, it turned away, and went outthrough his hair. He won't have any scar, either, because it's all underthe thickest part of his hair.
"Of course his eyes are closed, ma'am. He hasn't come around yet, buthe's coming fast. Don't cry on his face, ma'am. Boys never like to havetheir faces cried on. I'd have brought him in myself, but I found Iwas too weak to carry him. It's been too short a time since the SecondManassas for me to have got back all my strength. So I just bound up hishead, held it in my lap, and yelled for help. Along came a rebel party,bearing two wounded, and they looked at me. 'You're about pumped out,'said one of them, 'but we'll take your friend in for you.' 'No, youwon't,' I said. 'Why not?' said they. 'Because you're no accountJohnnies,' I said, 'while my wounded friend and I are high-toned Yanks.''I beg your pardon,' said the Johnny, who was one of the most politefellows I ever saw, 'I didn't see your uniform clearly by this dimlight, but the parties looking for the wounded are mostly going in, andyou're likely to be left here with your friend, who needs attention.Better come along with us and be prisoners and give him a chance to getwell.'
"Now, that was white, real white, but I thanked him and said that assoon as General Buell heard that the best two soldiers in his whole armywere here resting, he'd come with his finest ambulance for us, drivinghis horses himself. They said then they didn't suppose they were neededand went on. But do you know, ma'am, every one of those Johnnies, as hepassed poor old unconscious Dick with his head in my lap, took off hishat."
"It was a fine thing for them to do," said Colonel Winchester, and thenhe whispered: "I'm glad you talked that way, Warner. It helps. You see,she's feeling more cheerful already."
"Yes, and you see old Dick's opening his eyes. Isn't it strange thatthe first thing he should see when he opens them here on the battlefieldshould be his mother?"
"A strange and happy circumstance," said Colonel Winchester.
Dick opened his eyes.
"Mother!" he exclaimed.
Her arms were already around him.
The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation's Crisis Page 16
