by Charles King
CHAPTER XXIII.
And now if there is a boy reader of this story who doesn't say it ishigh time he is told what had become of Snipe Lawton, then the narratornever knew a thing about boys. Leaving Shorty to sleep over his injureddignity and lose another of the opportunities of his life, we will turnback the page and look again over the stirring fields thirty miles tothe south. As neither Snipe nor his major nor his friend Keating, of theZouaves, had been recognized among the dead, as they were not apparentlyamong the prisoners, and as they certainly had not reappeared amongtheir comrades along the Potomac, they must be looked for where lastseen, close to that old brick and stone Virginia homestead, bowered inthe midst of vines and fruit-trees, known as the Henry house.
Not until weeks after--long, weary, perilous weeks--was the story told,and then Snipe was not the narrator. The grave, taciturn major waxedeloquent and even diffuse for once in his life, and the burden of hissong was Snipe and Sergeant Keating.
After their second brave advance along the plateau the New-Englandersfound themselves unsupported on both flanks, and their men falling fromthe hot fire that poured in from almost every direction. The old colonelhung on to the last, but saw that to save his regiment he must withdraw,and so gave the order. They fell back fighting, closing to the centre,and only once was there anything like confusion, and that occurred closeto the Henry house, when some other regiment that had suddenly marchedup the slope to the west almost as suddenly broke and came surging overthe right companies, carrying two of them in the rush. It was whilestaying this disorder that Major Stark was suddenly dashed to earth. Hishorse, disembowelled by a whirring fragment of shell, reared and plungedviolently, falling on his rider and crushing him in his frantic agony.Almost wild with grief and excitement, Snipe sprang from his saddle andran to the major's aid, even though a dozen gray-clad fellows camebounding at them through the smoke. "I declare," he said, afterwards, "Ithought they were coming to help me. They _did_ help,--three or four ofthem. They pulled that poor horse off just as we've seen a crowd pull afallen horse out of a tangle on Broadway, and they lifted the major upand stood him on one leg, and one of 'em gave him a drink from hiscanteen, and another, a boy like myself, actually began brushing himoff. Everybody was so crazy with yelling and shouting that for a minutethey didn't seem to realize the situation."
But realization came quickly enough. The major's right leg was brokenbelow the knee. He had received severe internal hurts and was dazed andsick, and Snipe and a "reb" between them were supporting him, when someofficer shouted, "Get those prisoners to the rear! Here comes anothercharge." Two or three men strove to carry the crippled officer, who wasin great pain, and Snipe was bidden to bear a hand, which of course hedid; but their progress was slow, and in the midst of it somebodyyelled, "Look out! Lie flat!" And down went everybody as a red volleyflashed through the smoke veil from the west, and then, loudly cheering,another Union regiment, a big one, came charging across the plateau, andthe "Johnnies" had to scramble to their feet and scurry out of the way.The regiment bounded right over them, it seemed to Snipe, and went on atthe guns the rebs were dragging away, and presently it, too, wasswallowed up in smoke and fire on every side, and wounded officers andmen came drifting back. One of the former recognized Major Stark atonce, and made some soldiers lift and carry him, and in this way theygot back down behind the Henry house, where there were hundreds ofstragglers,--hundreds,--and among them were a number of the FireZouaves, and Snipe caught sight of Keating, and the little sergeantjoined them at once. "It's all up," said he. "We hain't got nodis_cipp_line, or we'd a cleaned them fellers out quick as Forty couldsnuff out a fire." All the same he stood by Snipe and the party carryingMajor Stark, and so made a way through groups of scattered soldieryuntil, somewhere ahead toward the Warrenton pike, they could see blueregiments still in solid line, and ambulances and wagons, and thitherthey bore their officer until at last they laid him behind the shelterof a stone wall; and there they found one of Burnside's regimentswaiting orders, and its surgeon hurried to their aid, and slit up themajor's trousers and knocked the lid of a cracker-box into splints, anddeftly set and bandaged the fractured leg while the battle raged at thefront. Sherman and Wilcox and Burnside still had unbroken and reliableregiments. The little detachment of regular cavalry was drawn up outthere to the south on the heights near the Chinn house. The capturedbatteries might still be retaken if only some practised hand could putin a brigade or two together. But just as they were getting the majorinto an ambulance there came fierce, crashing volleys through the woodsin the direction of the Junction, and a grand chorus of exultant cheersand yells. A fresh line of troops burst from the fringe of woodsdirectly at the south and from the west of the Sudley Springs road. Theregiments then advancing up the slope were struck in flank and rear. Thecavalry came whirling down off the height with many a saddle empty, andeverybody seemed to realize at once that more of Johnston's troops hadarrived and turned the right of the line, and then everything seemed tomelt away in earnest.
"Still," said the major, in telling of it later, "we could not realizewe were badly whipped. We knew we must have punished them as hard as wewere punished, all but the mishandling, perhaps, of those batteries, andall that seemed necessary was to fall back on the heights of Centrevilleand there stand our ground." But instead of going thither by the directroute along the pike, which would have held the commands together,through some further mischance the brigades, left finally to shift forthemselves, drifted back the way they came, and this led to the furtherdisaster to the north of Bull Run. No sooner had the retiring troops"uncovered" the stone bridge than Confederate guns and cavalry pushedforward, and one well-handled battery found a position from which itcould easily command that suspension bridge over Cub Run, some two milesfarther east. And then the fun began in earnest--for the rebs. Thatbridge was the sole means of escape of all Union batteries and a wholemenagerie of draught animals, wagons, ambulances, and even buggies andcarriages of sightseers from Washington, all surging back that way. Ashell exploding on the bridge killed and wounded the mules of a heavywagon, which was instantly overturned, completely blocking the passagefor other wheels. More shells burst about the ears of the nowdemoralized drivers and teamsters, who cut their traces, mounted theiranimals, and rode madly away. As darkness fell gradually upon the scene,a dozen more splendid guns and several dozen wagon-loads of stores andsupplies were left, and among the abandoned vehicles was the ambulanceconveying the wounded major, watched over by faithful Snipe and SergeantKeating.
But even now the lad did not despair. At the steep bank of Cub Run, halfa mile north of the fatal bridge, a two-horse, two-seated open farmwagon had been left by its terror-stricken owners, who half waded, halfswam, across and scurried up the opposite slope. A bright idea struckthe boy. It was impossible to get across Cub Run with a wagon. But therewere the open fields to the west of it. There were those wood roads thathe had traversed the night before. Why not try that way? Somehow,between them, he and Keating got that team and wagon turned about. Thenthey "boosted" the major to the rear seat, where Keating supported him,while Snipe took the reins and, turning sharp to the north, with dozensof fugitives yelling caution, comment, or suggestion, he drove away fromthem all into the cool, dark woodland lanes that wound along east of theroute the disordered column was following, and just about dusk, emergingon the other side, Snipe caught sight of the ridge and the farm-house,the scene of his exploit the night before. How changed were allconditions now! Away down on the lowlands near Bull Run, in long columnof twos or fours, some regimental fragments were still strung out,trailing wearily from Sudley Ford. They still interposed, therefore,between the fugitives and the enemy. The major, though making no moan,was ashen with the agony caused by the jolting of the wagon. The sweatwas starting in beads from his forehead, and Keating said they must givehim rest. Huddled behind the farm-house they found the two trembling oldnegroes left there as caretakers. Though unnerved by the sound ofbattle, they had not dared desert their post. Snipe
bade them bring outinstantly a mattress and blankets. The seats were taken from the wagon.The mattress and blankets were spread upon the bottom. One of the olddarkies cooked a substantial supper. The horses were watered and fed.Provisions, wine, and apple-jack were stowed in the wagon. The major,rested and partially revived, was lifted in. Then with Snipe and Keatingtrudging alongside, once more under the starlight they drove eastward onthe road leading, as the old darkies said, right over to the turnpike.
But a sore trial awaited them. A mile or more they moved cautiouslyalong, and then began the descent of a slope, at the bottom of whichSnipe felt sure they would find Cub Run. There was the Run, placid,deep, steep-banked as ever, but the vitally important bridge was cutaway. Grayson's troopers, to secure themselves against surprise, haddestroyed it two days before. Farther in that direction they could notgo. Here they could not stay. Any moment might bring the Black HorseCavalry, of which so much had been said and so little seen, scoutingaround that flank of the retreating army. Away off to the southeast,about Centreville, they could hear the confused sounds of bugle calls.Away off to the south Blenker's reserve brigade was still in line ofbattle, covering the Union retreat. Every now and then the rising nightwind would bear the distant crackle and crash of file firing, but thebigger guns were still, and here in the pitchy darkness, with a strangeteam, in a strange land, were Snipe and Keating, sole guardians of aprecious life,--that of the wounded and suffering major. "It's of nouse, boys," said Stark, faintly. "Drive slowly back to the house andleave me with the old darkies. Then you go and make the best of your wayto Fairfax. You'll be safe there."
They did turn about and drive to the farm-house and "rout out" thedarkies again, but only to make one of the old servitors come as aguide, for Snipe and the sergeant both declared no rebel should lug thatYankee major off to prison so long as wit or work could save him.
All night they plodded slowly on, twisting and turning through countrylanes or bridle-tracks. Time and again they had to halt and scout, forthe poor bewildered negro lost the way again and again, and when atlast morning dawned, they were not nine miles on a bee-line north ofSudley church, but were hopelessly far from Fairfax. And now the rainthat always follows a heavy battle began to fall. They hid in thethicket all the hours till darkness came again, drowsing by turns. Theyhitched in and again pushed northward at nightfall, but the stars werehidden. There was nothing to guide them. They groped into anotherthicket and hid another day, the rain still pouring steadily. Snipe"shinned" up a tree and took the bearings of the farm-houses withinsight; took heart because he saw no signs of scouting cavalry,everything being now afar off to the eastward along the main roads toWashington, and, turning his jacket inside out, after brief conferencewith Keating he stole away through the dripping thickets, and lurkedabout the nearest farm until he succeeded in making a negro hear hiscautious signals. Money was potent and the major had plenty. The darkybrought grain for the horses, and chickens, eggs, and milk, and thatnight guided them through many a devious way until within an hour ofdawn they were again hidden in the thick woods, still farther to thenorthwest and away from the travelled roads. The nearest village nowseemed eight or ten miles away. Before the negro left them he hunted upa friend to take his place. Ten dollars for his night's work! It was afortune, and eagerly his successor sought to earn as much.
And so, guided and fed by darkies, hiding by day and journeyingoccasionally by night, they kept on for nearly a week, heading for thePotomac about Edwards' Ferry, hoping to dodge all patrols meantime andto discover some way of slipping past the pickets as they neared theriver. Nearer Washington every bridle-path they knew would be guarded.Through the relays of darkies they learned that General Beauregard'sarmy had enveloped the defences of the capital on the south side of thePotomac, and that troops were passing to and fro all over the countrybetween Leesburg and Alexandria. Major Stark said, therefore, their onlychance was to lie in hiding somewhere until his leg had knit. Money hestill fortunately had in sufficient quantity. Keating still had hisrifle and revolver, though the major and Snipe had been bereft of theirpistols. Their negro friend led them to a dense thicket in a deepravine, far from the highways and byways. Wood and water were abundant.Shelter they made of boughs. Food and news the darkies brought them inquantities, and here they nursed their plucky major and studied thecountry toward the Potomac until at last the bone seemed knitting, andthen, one starlit night, late in August, pushed cautiously on again,still taking their wagon, and with the dawn of the next day they wereacross the Leesburg road and deep in the woods toward the ferry. Hereanother stay became necessary. Southern pickets and patrols lined thebanks of the stream, and a day or two later their new guide, a negroboy of eighteen, crept to them in terror to say he felt sure somebodymust have "peached," for "cavalry gemmen" were inquiring at every houseand hamlet. A whole company had ridden out from Vienna that very day,and they were asking if any one had seen a two-horse farm wagon, with asick man in it, and two other men driving. Troopers were beating up thewood roads then. In half an hour the wagon was in ashes, the tires andiron work hidden in the brush, and with Stark astride one horse, Snipeand Keating alternating on the other, they pushed through the forest toanother hiding-place, hearing the whoops and yells and signal shots ofthe cavalry every hour until dusk. Then, with their negro guide, theykept on all night long, halting and dodging every little while; hid inthe woods within sound of the Southern bugles all another day; stole onsoutheastward all another night, until their guide said Lewinsville wasnot a mile away to the south, and the Yankee pickets in front of ChainBridge only a mile or so to the northeast. That day proved most eventfulof all. Hungry, thirsty, and weary, they were waiting the return ofBrennus, as was the classic name of their guide, when about dark hereached them empty-handed. Not a moment was to be lost, said he. Thecavalry had struck their trail and were following the horse-tracksthrough the woods. There was an abandoned hut, a woodman's, half a mileaway, and thither Stark limped painfully, leaning hard upon hisfriends. They managed to reach it just in time, their horses being leftto shift for themselves. They were now close to the Union lines, yet thegray pickets and patrols guarded every path. They could not hope tocarry Stark through such a net-work, and he could only painfully limpand only occasionally bear a portion of his weight upon that leg. Norcould they hope to remain undiscovered another day. There was only onething to be done. Get word through the lines to the Yankees, and beg forrescue.
Stark quickly pencilled the message on tissue-paper, torn from before apicture page in the little testament he always carried. "Major Stark,crippled, Sergeant Keating, and Corporal Lawton are hiding just south ofthe rebel outposts. One troop of cavalry the only force nearer thanLewinsville except usual reserves. Unless rescued to-night will surelybe recaptured in the morning. The bearer can guide. If possible help."This he signed officially and rolled in "Solace" tin-foil. "Now,Brennus," said he, "crawl past the rebs; get that to the Lincolnsoldiers, and it's your freedom and fifty dollars to boot."
We know the rest.
