CHAPTER IX.
_The Pursuit—The Perilous Situation—Important Information._
IT was two o’clock in the morning, nearly two hours after Miss Haywardhad been seized, and borne from the camp by Walker and his confederates.The guard relief had commenced his rounds. The first post visited wasthat in front of the door where Walker had been confined. A glancerevealed the prisoner’s escape. The chain which had secured the door waslying upon the steps, and the door itself was slightly ajar. Walker andboth the sentinels had disappeared. The “long roll” was at once beaten,and the camp aroused. Scarce had the lines been formed when it wasannounced that Miss Hayward also had disappeared. The grief of herfriends, and the rage of the soldiers knew no bounds, and many was theoath of a terrible retribution uttered against the fiend who had spreadsuch desolation and sorrow in her path.
It was but a few moments before squads of cavalry were dashing in everydirection in pursuit. There was but little doubt as to how the escapehad been effected. The disappearance of the guard convinced all thatthey were in league with Walker, but in what manner they had gainedpossession of Miss Hayward was a mystery. No one had detected any thingunusual in her manner the evening before, and she had retired at herusual hour.
It was thought, however, that the parties would not have taken any mainroad, as the pickets would have given the alarm. They could not have hadmore than two hours the start, as every thing was all right when thetwelve o’clock relief went on post, and at two o’clock the escape wasdiscovered. If Walker had to walk through the fields in order to avoidthe pickets, it would take at least two hours to clear them. It was mostlikely that, once outside the lines, friends and horses would beprocured. Still, the distance would not be so great but that ourhorsemen hoped to overtake them, and so they set off with a good will invarious directions.
“Are _you_ not going to accompany us?” asked Lieutenant Wells, ofNettleton, who was seated upon the ground, looking gloomy and sullen.
“Not by a darn sight!” answered Nettleton, doggedly.
“And why not?” asked Wells.
“You go ’long, and let me alone!” he answered, sharply.
There was no time for words, and the squadron departed.
The night passed, during which Nettleton was bitter in his self-reproachfor not watching closer, and would not hold conversation with anyperson. As the first dawn of day became visible, Nettleton was seencrawling upon his hands and knees, in front of the former prison ofWalker, and through the garden, toward the west. His movements werewatched with considerable interest, as all had begun to respect him forhis sagacity, in his peculiar way. At length he returned to his tent,and, without speaking, carefully examined his double-barrel shot gun—abeautiful piece which he had picked up upon the Wilson creekbattle-ground, and had been permitted to retain. This he loaded; then,taking a large artillery ammunition-bag, he went directly to the tent ofAdjutant Hinton. Removing the lid of a minnié-ball ammunition-box, hefilled this pouch with cartridges. His next move was to place someprovision in his haversack; then he started.
“Where are you going, William?” asked Mrs. Hinton.
“Them _boots_!” he replied, pointing in the direction he had just takenin his hands-and-knees examination.
“What do you mean?”
“Why, _them boots as had two hearts on the soles_ went _that_ way, andI’m going to follow if I go to thunder!” He waited to hear no more, orto speak more, but bounded off to the westward.
He had been gone perhaps an hour, when Fall-leaf, the Indian scoutalready referred to, entered the camp. He was soon made aware of thestate of things. Fall-leaf was deeply attached to Captain Hayward, and,more especially so to his fair sister, Mamie. The scout had been but ashort time in camp, when he had given to the General all the informationhe possessed with regard to the enemy. This done, he followed on thetrail fast as possible.
For several hours Nettleton kept on his course, now striking the mainroad for the purpose of searching for fresh tracks, then taking to thewoods again, to avoid observation. Several times he came upon thewell-known footprints, and a bitter exclamation would escape him. Hekept his course, more from the judgment he had formed as to thedirection Walker had taken, than from the numerous impressions of hisboots. He was ascending a sharp and ragged hill, so heavily covered withthe thorn-bush and small scrub-oak peculiar to that country, that hisprogress was rendered very difficult. Suddenly a figure darted in frontof him and concealed itself among the thick undergrowth. Nettletonbrought his gun to the shoulder, and called out:
“None of that skulking, darn ye! Come out and fight fair!”
“Ugh!” responded the voice, and Fall-leaf bounded to his side.
“Oh! it’s you, is it, Mr. Ingen? Well, I’m darn glad you’ve come, foryou can hunt these snarly woods better than me! Any news?”
“You kill ’em—eh?”
“I shall kill ’em, if I only get a bead on the critter!”
“You _did_ kill ’em?”
“Kill who?”
“Dead soldier—there!” Fall-leaf indicated that he meant further on.
“Come on, Ingen,” said Nettleton. He reached the summit of the hillwhich overlooked the valley below, and, led by Fall-leaf, began itsdescent. They soon reached the stream, and the Indian pointed to thedead body. Nettleton gazed upon it a moment, and then said:
“Darn me if it ain’t the very feller what run away last night. Walkerhas been here, sure!”
He commenced his search at once. He found footprints in the sand, andamong them that of a lady, judging from its small size. The Indian hadalso been taking observations. Returning from a clump of bushes, he saidto Nettleton:
“See—canoe—two—White Bird—so!”
Here Fall-leaf indicated by action, that two men had drawn a boat fromconcealment in the thicket, had entered it, as indicated by tracks inthe sand, and had proceeded down-stream.
“Well, they’ve got rid of one scoundrel, any way. It will only be man toman, and I feel myself to be a match for any dozen such skunks as thatWalker. They can’t have much the start!”
Both Fall-leaf and Nettleton walked rapidly forward along the bank ofthe stream. At length—and it was almost a simultaneous movement on thepart of each—they stopped, and bending forward, held their ears close tothe ground.
“By thunder!” cried Nettleton, “that’s _her_ voice!”
“White Bird caged—_she_ no sing!” replied Fall-leaf.
“Ain’t you a darn fool? Don’t you know that White Bird, as you call her,has got a right to expect some of her friends will be after her, and soshe sings that they may hear her voice, echoing up and down among thesehills, and know where to find her?”
“Ugh! good—white hunter no fool!”
Again the voice was heard, and this time so clearly as to leave no doubtupon the mind of our hero, as to who the singer was. Like a deer hebounded off in the direction indicated. The music died away and all wasstill. But the two men paused not.
Upon a sudden they emerged into an open field of about four acres, nearthe center of which were two large stacks of hay. The river at thispoint took a bend, and the two pursuers struck directly across the openspace. Just as they reached the stacks, Fall-leaf darted close in to thebase of one of them, taking the attitude of a listener, and making asignificant sign to Nettleton.
“What is it?” asked Nettleton.
“Hark! Soldiers! Horses! Whoa! Hark!”
Nettleton listened attentively, and then said:
“There is a party of soldiers coming. It _may_ be our men who have beenin search of Miss—— of the White Bird; but, it is well enough to keepclose. It may be the rebels merely moving camp. And if this is so, Mamiemust be with them. The sounds are coming nearer—crawl under the hay,red-skin—way under, out of sight.”
This was effected with some difficulty, when a party of rebelguerrillas, numbering about sixty, rode into the field, and proceeded toform their camp dir
ectly in the vicinity of the hay-stacks, under whichthe two men were concealed.
“Well, I guess we’ve got into the right shop!” said Nettleton toFall-leaf. “We are cooped up here close enough for a while, but, MissMamie must be with this crowd, and when dark comes, we can scout aroundand see what we can do. Lay quiet, Ingen!”
“White hunter knows! Make good Ingen!”
The day dragged slowly away. Toward night a party of the rebels came forforage for their horses, but the hay was tumbled from the top of thestack, and our friends were not discovered. The guerrillas’conversation, however, was listened to with the greatest interest byNettleton.
“So Colonel Brown, or Walker, as he is called, came within one of beingdone for in the camp of the Yanks at Springfield?”
“Yes, so he says.”
“What the devil does he want with the gal?”
“Oh, some love affair, of course.”
“The gal was happy, for she was singing like a nightingale.”
“Oh yes! No doubt she was dazzled by the prospect of being a colonel’swife.”
“Who is she?”
“Don’t know.”
“My eyes! but she _is_ a beauty!”
“So much the better for him.”
“Where was he going with her?”
“Oh, below—taking her to her brother, I believe.”
“Where is that?”
“Down in the _old mill_!”
This was all the conversation heard by the adventurers. But, the rebeltroops did not move again until late in the next day, and our friendswere compelled to remain quiet. They had learned sufficient to convincethem that Miss Hayward was _not_ with this band of rebels, but was beingborne still further from them. They cursed the chance which had thusentrapped them, and prevented their overtaking the captive at once.Still, they resolved to keep up the pursuit, and they had learned thatat _some mill_ the lady was to be conveyed, and that her brother wasthere. Patiently they waited until they could emerge, and finish theirjourney.
The Prisoner of the Mill; or, Captain Hayward's Body Guard Page 9
