CHAPTER III. THE TELEGRAPH STATION
The darkness to the north was suddenly split apart by a solid sheet offlame. Dick by the light saw many men on horseback and others on foot,bridle rein over arm. It was well for the seven hundred boys that theyhad pressed themselves against the solid earth. A sheet of bullets swepttoward them. Most passed over their heads, but many struck upon bonesand flesh, and cries of pain rose from the lines of men lying along therailroad track.
The seven hundred pulled trigger and fired at the flash. They firedso well that Dick could hear Southern horses neighing with pain, andstruggling in the darkness. He felt sure that many men, too, had beenhit. At least no charge came. The seven hundred shouted with exultationand, leaping to their feet, prepared to fire a second volley. But theswift command of their officers quickly put them down again.
"Don't forget the other Confederate column to the south of us,"whispered Whitley. "They did not fire at first for fear their bulletswould pass over our heads and strike their own comrades. For the samereason they must have dropped back a little in order to avoid the fireof their friends. Their volley will come from an angle about midwaybetween our left and rear."
Just as he spoke the last words the rifles flashed at the surmised angleand again the bullets beat among the young troops or swept over theirheads. A soldier was killed only a few feet from Dick. The boy picked uphis rifle and ammunition and began to fire whenever he saw the flash ofan opposing weapon. But the fire of both Confederate columns ceased ina minute or two, and not a shot nor the sound of a single order came outof the darkness. But Dick with his ear to the soft earth, could hear thecrush of hoofs in the mud, and with a peculiar ability to discern whencesound came he knew that the force on the left and rear was crossingthe railroad track in order to join their comrades on the north. Hewhispered his knowledge to Whitley, who whispered back:
"It's the natural thing for them to do. They could not afford to fighton in the darkness with two separate forces. The two columns would soonbe firing into each other."
Colonel Newcomb now gave an order for the men to rise and follow therailroad track, but also to fire at the flash of the rifles whenevera volley was poured upon them. He must not only beat off the Southernattack, but also continue the journey to those points in the west wherethey were needed so sorely. Some of his men had been killed, and hewas compelled to leave their bodies where they had fallen. Others werewounded, but without exception they were helped along by their comrades.
Warner also had secured a rifle, with which he fired occasionally, buthe and Dick, despite the darkness, kept near to Colonel Newcomb inorder that they might deliver any orders that he should choose to give.Sergeant Whitley was close to them. Dick presently heard the rush ofwater.
"What is that?" he exclaimed.
"It's the little river that runs down the valley," replied Warner."There's a slope here and it comes like a torrent. A bridge or rathertrestle is only a little further, and we've got to walk the ties, if wereach the other side. They'll make their heaviest rush there, I suppose,as beyond a doubt they are thoroughly acquainted with the ground."
The Northern troops left the track which here ran along an embankmentseveral feet high, and took shelter on its southern side. They now hadan advantage for a while, as they fired from a breastwork upon theirfoes, who were in the open. But the darkness, lit only by the flashes ofthe rifles, kept the fire of both sides from being very destructive, thebullets being sent mainly at random.
Dick dimly saw the trestle work ahead of them, and the roaring of thelittle river increased. He did not know how deep the water was, but hewas sure that it could not be above his waist as it was a small stream.An idea occurred to him and he promptly communicated it to ColonelNewcomb.
"Suppose, sir," he said, "that we ford the river just below the trestle.It will deceive them and we'll be half way across before they suspectthe change."
"A good plan, Mr. Mason," said Colonel Newcomb. "We'll try it."
Word was quickly passed along the line that they should turn to the leftas they approached the trestle, march swiftly down the slope, and dashinto the stream. As fast as they reached the other side of the ford themen should form upon the bank there, and with their rifles cover thepassage of their comrades.
The skeleton work of the trestle now rose more clearly into view. Therain had almost ceased and faint rays of moonlight showed through therifts where the clouds had broken apart. The boys distinctly heard thegurgling rush of waters, and they also saw the clear, bluish surface ofthe mountain stream. The same quickening of light disclosed the Southernforce on their right flank and rear, only four or five hundred yardsaway. Dick's hasty glance backward lingered for a moment on a powerfulman on a white horse just in advance of the Southern column. He sawthis man raise his hand and then command the men to fire. He and twentyothers under the impulse of excitement shouted to the regiment to dropdown, and the Northern lads did so.
Most of the volley passed over their heads. Rising they sent back areturn discharge, and then the head of the columns rushed into thestream. Dick felt swift water whirling about him and tugging at hisbody, but it rose no higher than his waist, although foam and spraywere dashed into his face. He heard all around him the splashing of hiscomrades, and their murmurs of satisfaction. They realized now that theywere not only able to retreat before a much superior force, but thissame stream, when crossed, would form a barrier behind which they couldfight two to one.
The Confederate leader, whoever he might be, and Dick had no doubt thathe was the redoubtable Turner Ashby, also appreciated the full facts andhe drove his whole force straight at the regiment. It was well forthe young troops that part of them were already across, and, under theskillful leadership of Colonel Newcomb, Major Hertford, and three orfour old, regular army sergeants, of whom the best was Whitley, werealready forming in line of battle.
"Kneel," shouted the colonel, "and fire over the heads of your comradesat the enemy!"
The light was still growing brighter. The rain came only in slightflurries. The clouds were trooping off toward the northeast, and themoon was out. Dick clearly saw the black mass of the Southern horsemenwheeling down upon them. At least three hundred of the regiment were nowupon the bank, and, with fairly steady aim, they poured a heavy volleyinto the massed ranks of their foe. Dick saw horses fall while othersdashed away riderless. But the Southern line wavered only for a momentand then came on again with many shouts. There were also dismountedmen on either flank who knelt and maintained a heavy fire upon thedefenders.
The lads in blue were suffering many wounds, but a line of treesand underbrush on the western shore helped them. Lying there partlyprotected they loaded and pulled trigger as fast as they could, whilethe rest of their comrades emerged dripping from the stream to jointhem. The Confederates, brave as they were, had no choice but to giveground against such strong defense, and the miner colonel, despite hisreserve and his middle years, gave vent to his exultation.
"We can hold this line forever!" he exclaimed to his aides. "It's onething to charge us in the open, but it's quite another to get at usacross a deep and rushing stream. Major Hertford, take part of the mento the other side of the railroad track and drive back any attempt at acrossing there. Lieutenant Mason, you and Lieutenant Warner go ahead andsee what has become of the train. You can get back here in plenty timefor more fighting."
Dick and Warner hurried forward, following the line of the railroad.Their blood was up and they did not like to leave the defense of theriver, but orders must be obeyed. As they ran down the railroad track aman came forward swinging a lantern, and they saw the tall gaunt figureof Canby, the chief engineer. Behind him the train stretched away in thedarkness.
"I guess that our men have forded the river and are holding the bank,"said Canby. "Do they need the train crew back there to help?"
He spoke with husky eagerness. Dick knew that he was longing to be inthe middle of the fight, but that his duty kept him with the train.
"No," he replied. "The river bank, and the road along its shore give usa great position for defense, and I know we can hold it. Colonel Newcombdid not say so, but perhaps you'd better bring the train back nearer us.It's not our object to stay in this valley and fight, but to go into thewest. Is all clear ahead?"
"No enemy is there. Some of the brakemen have gone on a mile or two andthey say the track hasn't been touched. You tell Colonel Newcomb thatI'm bringing the train right down to the battle line."
Dick and Warner returned quickly to Colonel Newcomb, who appreciatedCanby's courage and presence of mind. As the train approached the fourcannon were unloaded from the trucks, and swept the further shore withshell and shrapnel. After a scattered fire the Southern force withdrewsome distance, where it halted, apparently undecided. The clouds rolledup again, the feeble moon disappeared, and the river sank into the dark.
"May I make a suggestion, Colonel Newcomb?" said Major Hertford.
"Certainly."
"The enemy will probably seek an undefended ford much higher up, crossunder cover of the new darkness and attack us in heavy force on theflank. Suppose we get aboard the train at once, cannon and all, andleave them far behind."
"Excellent. If the darkness covers their movements it also covers ours.Load the train as fast as possible and see that no wounded are leftbehind."
He gave rapid orders to all his officers and aides, and in fifteenminutes the troops were aboard the train again, the cannon were liftedupon the trucks, Canby and his assistants had all steam up, and thetrain with its usual rattle and roar resumed its flight into the west.
Dick and Warner were in the first coach near Colonel Newcomb, ready forany commands that he might give. Both had come through the defense ofthe ford without injury, although a bullet had gone through Dick's coatwithout touching the skin. Sergeant Whitley, too, was unharmed, but theregiment had suffered. More than twenty dead were left in the valley forthe enemy to bury.
Despite all the commands and efforts of the officers there was muchexcited talk in the train. Boys were binding up wounds of other boys andwere condoling with them. But on the whole they were exultant. Youthdid not realize the loss of those who had been with them so little.Scattered exclamations came to Dick:
"We beat 'em off that time, an' we can do it again."
"Lucky though we had that little river before us. Guess they'd have rodeus right down with their horses if it hadn't been for the stream an' itsbanks."
"Ouch, don't draw that bandage so tight on my arm. It ain't nothin' buta flesh wound."
"I hate a battle in the dark. Give me the good sunshine, where you cansee what's goin' on. My God, that you Bill! I'm tremendous glad to seeyou! I thought you was lyin' still, back there in the grass!"
Dick said nothing. He was in a seat next to the window, and his face waspressed against the rain-marked pane. The rifle that he had picked upand used so well was still clutched, grimed with smoke, in his hands.The train had not yet got up speed. He caught glimpses of the riverbehind which they had fought, and which had served them so well as abarrier. In fact, he knew that it had saved them. But they had beatenoff the enemy! The pulses in his temples still throbbed from exertionand excitement, but his heart beat exultantly. The bitterness of BullRun was deep and it had lasted long, but here they were the victors.
The speed of the train increased and Dick knew that they were safe fromfurther attack. They were still running among mountains, clad heavilyin forest, but a meeting with a second Southern force was beyondprobability. The first had made a quick raid on information supplied byspies in Washington, but it had failed and the way was now clear.
Ample food was served somewhat late to the whole regiment, the lastwounds were bound up, and Dick, having put aside the rifle, fell asleepat last. His head lay against the window and he slept heavily allthrough the night. Warner in the next seat slept in the same way. Butthe wise old sergeant just across the aisle remained awake much longer.He was summing up and he concluded that the seven hundred lads had donewell. They were raw, but they were being whipped into shape.
He smiled a little grimly as the unspoken words, "whipped into shape,"rose to his lips. The veteran of many an Indian battle foresaw somethingvastly greater than anything that had occurred on the plains. "Whippedinto shape!" Why, in the mighty war that was gathering along a front oftwo thousand miles no soldier could escape being whipped into shape, orbeing whipped out of it.
But the sergeant's own eyes closed after a while, and he, too, slept thesleep of utter mental and physical exhaustion. The train rumbled on, thefaithful Canby in the first engine aware of his great responsibility andequal to it. Not a wink of sleep for him that night. The darkness hadlightened somewhat more. The black of the skies had turned to a duskyblue, and the bolder stars were out. He could always see the shiningrails three or four hundred yards ahead, and he sent his train steadilyforward at full speed, winding among the gorges and rattling over thetrestles. The silent mountains gave back every sound in dying echoes,but Canby paid no heed to them. His eyes were always on the track ahead,and he, too, was exultant. He had brought the regiment through, andwhile it was on the train his responsibility was not inferior to that ofColonel Newcomb.
When Dick awoke, bright light was pouring in at the car windows, but thecar was cold and his body was stiff and sore. His military overcoat hadbeen thrown over him in the night and Warner had been covered inthe same way. They did not know that Sergeant Whitley had done thatthoughtful act.
Dick stretched himself and drew deep breaths. Warm youth soon sent theblood flowing in a full tide through his veins, and the stiffnessand soreness departed. He saw through the window that they were stillrunning among the mountains, but they did not seem to be so high hereas they were at the river by which they had fought in the night. He knewfrom his geography and his calculation of time that they must be farinto that part of Virginia which is now West Virginia.
There was no rain now, at least where the train was running, but thesun had risen on a cold world. Far up on the higher peaks he saw a finewhite mist which he believed to be falling snow. Obviously it was winterhere and putting on the big military coat he drew it tightly about him.Others in the coach were waking up and some of them, grown feverishwith their wounds, were moving restlessly on their seats, where they layprotected by the blankets of their fellows.
Dick now and then saw a cabin nestling in the lee of a hill, with theblue smoke rising from its chimney into the clear, wintry air, andsmall and poor as they were they gave him a singular sense of peace andcomfort. His mind felt for a few moments a strong reaction from war andits terrors, but the impulse and the strong purpose that bore him onsoon came back.
The train rushed through a pass and entered a sheltered valley a mile ortwo wide and eight or ten miles long. A large creek ran through it, andthe train stopped at a village on its banks. The whole population of thevillage and all the farmers of the valley were there to meet them. Itwas a Union valley and by some system of mountain telegraphy, althoughthere were no telegraph wires, news of the battle at the ford hadpreceded the train.
"Come, lads," said Colonel Newcomb to his staff. "Out with you! We'reamong friends here!"
Dick and Warner were glad enough to leave the train. The air, cold as itwas, was like the breath of heaven on their faces, and the cheers ofthe people were like the trump of fame in their ears. Pretty girls withtheir faces in red hoods or red comforters were there with food andsmoking coffee. Medicines for the wounded, as much as the village couldsupply, had been brought to the train, and places were already made forthose hurt too badly to go on with the expedition.
The whole cheerful scene, with its life and movement, the sight of newfaces and the sound of many voices, had a wonderful effect upon youngDick Mason. He had a marvellously sensitive temperament, a directinheritance from his famous border ancestor, Paul Cotter. Things werealways vivid to him. Either they glowed with color, or they were huelessand dead. This morning the long strain of the night and it
s battle wasrelaxed completely. The grass in the valley was brown with frost, andthe trees were shorn of their leaves by the winter winds, but to Dickit was the finest village that he had ever seen, and these were thefriendliest people in the world.
He drank a cup of hot coffee handed to him by the stalwart wife of afarmer, and then, when she insisted, drank another.
"You're young to be fightin'," she said sympathetically.
"We all are," said Dick with a glance at the regiment, "but howeverwe may fight you'll never find anybody attacking a breakfast with morevalor and spirit than we do."
She looked at the long line of lads, drinking coffee and eating ham,bacon, eggs, and hot biscuits, and smiled.
"I reckon you tell the truth, young feller," she said, "but it's good tosee 'em go at it."
She passed on to help others, and Dick, summoned by Colonel Newcomb,went into a little railroad and telegraph station. The telegraph wireshad been cut behind them, but ten miles across the mountains the spur ofanother railroad touched a valley. The second railroad looped towardthe north, and it was absolutely sure that it was beyond the reachof Southern raiders. Colonel Newcomb wished to send a message to theSecretary of War and the President, telling of the night's events andhis triumphant passage through the ordeal. These circumstances mightmake them wish to change his orders, and at any rate the commander ofthe regiment wished to be sure of what he was doing.
"You're a Kentuckian and a good horseman," said Colonel Newcomb to Dick."The villagers have sent me a trusty man, one Bill Petty, as a guide.Take Sergeant Whitley and you three go to the station. I've alreadywritten my dispatches, and I put them in your care. Have them sent atonce, and if necessary wait four hours for an answer. If it comes, rideback as fast as you can. The horses are ready and I rely upon you."
"Thank you, sir, I'll do my best," said Dick, who deeply appreciated thecolonel's confidence. He wasted no time in words, but went at once toSergeant Whitley, who was ready in five minutes. Warner, who heard ofthe mission, was disappointed because he was not going too. But he wasphilosophical.
"I've made a close calculation," he said, "and I have demonstrated tomy own satisfaction that our opportunities are sixty per cent energy andability, twenty per cent manners, and twenty per cent chance. In thiscase chance, which made the Colonel better acquainted with you thanwith me, was in your favor. We won't discuss the other eighty per cent,because this twenty is enough. Besides it looks pretty cold on themountains, and its fine here in the village. But luck with you, Dick."
He gave his comrade's hand a strong grasp and walked away toward thelittle square of the village, where the troops were encamped for thepresent. Dick sprang upon a horse which Bill Petty was holding for him.Whitley was already up, and the three rode swiftly toward a blue linewhich marked a cleft between two ridges. Dick first observed theirguide. Bill Petty was a short but very stout man, clad in a suit ofhome-made blue jeans, the trousers of which were thrust into highboots with red tops. A heavy shawl of dark red was wrapped around hisshoulders, and beneath his broad-brimmed hat a red woolen comfortercovered his ears, cheeks, and chin. His thick hair and a thick beardclothing his entire face were a flaming red. The whole effect of the manwas somewhat startling, but when he saw Dick looking at him in curiosityhis mouth opened wide in a grin of extreme good nature.
"I guess you think I'm right red," he said. "Well, I am, an' as you seeI always dress to suit my complexion. Guess I'll warm up the road someon a winter day like this."
"Would you mind my callin' you Red Blaze?" asked Sergeant Whitleygravely.
"Not-a-tall! Not-a-tall! I'd like it. I guess it's sorter pictorial an''maginative like them knights of old who had fancy names 'cordin' totheir qualities. People 'round here are pretty plain, an' they've nevercalled me nothin' but Bill. Red Blaze she is."
"An' Blaze for short. Well, then, Blaze, what kind of a road is thatwe're goin' to ride on?"
"Depends on the kind of weather in which you ask the question. As it'sthe fust edge of winter here in the mountains, though it ain't quitecome in the lowlands, an' as it's rained a lot in the last week, Ireckon you'll find it bad. Mebbe our hosses will go down in the roadto thar knees, but I guess they won't sink up to thar bodies. They maystumble an' throw us, but as we'll hit in soft mud it ain't likely tohurt us. It may rain hard, 'cause I see clouds heapin' up thar in thewest. An' if it rains the cold may then freeze a skim of ice over theroad, on which we could slip an' break our necks, hosses an' all. Thenthar are some cliffs close to the road. If we was to slip on that tharskim of ice which we've reckoned might come, then mebbe we'd go over oneof them cliffs and drop down a hundred feet or so right swift. If it wassoft mud down below we might not get hurt mortal. But it ain't softmud. We'd hit right in the middle of sharp, hard rocks. An' if a gangof rebel sharpshooters has wandered up here they may see us an' chase us'way off into the mountains, where we'd break our necks fallin' off theridges or freeze to death or starve to death."
Whitley stared at him.
"Blaze," he exclaimed, "what kind of a man are you anyway?"
"Me? I'm the happiest man in the valley. When people are low down theycome an' talk to me to get cheered up. I always lay the worst before youfirst an' then shove it out of the way. None of them things that I wasconjurin' up is goin' to happen. I was just tellin' you of the thingsyou was goin' to escape, and now you'll feel good, knowin' what dangersyou have passed before they happened."
Dick laughed. He liked this intensely red man with his round face andtwinkling eyes. He saw, too, that the mountaineer was a fine horseman,and as he carried a long slender-barreled rifle over his shoulder, whilea double-barreled pistol was thrust in his belt, it was likely that hewould prove a formidable enemy to any who sought to stop him.
"Perhaps your way is wise," said the boy. "You begin with the badand end with the good. What is the name of this place to which we aregoing?"
"Hubbard. There was a pioneer who fit the Injuns in here in earlytimes. I never heard that he got much, 'cept a town named after him. ButHubbard is a right peart little place, with a bank, two stores, threechurches, an' nigh on to two hundred people. Are you wrapped up well,Mr. Mason, 'cause it's goin' to be cold on the mountains?"
Dick wore heavy boots, and a long, heavy military coat which fell belowhis knees and which also had a high collar protecting his ears. Hewas provided also with heavy buckskin gloves. The sergeant was cladsimilarly.
"I think I'm clothed against any amount of cold," he replied.
"Well, you need to be," said Petty, "'cause the pass through which we'regoin' is at least fifteen hundred feet above Townsville--that's ourvillage--an' I reckon it's just 'bout as high over Hubbard. Them fifteenhundred feet make a pow'ful difference in climate, as you'll soon findout. It's not only colder thar, but the winds are always blowin' hardthrough the pass. Jest look back at Townsville. Ain't she fine an' neatdown thar in the valley, beside that clear creek which higher up in themountains is full of the juiciest an' sweetest trout that man ever stucka tooth into."
Dick saw that Petty was talkative, but he did not mind. In fact, bothhe and Whitley liked the man's joyous and unbroken run of chatter. Heturned in his saddle and looked back, following the stout man's pointingfinger. Townsville, though but a little mountain town built mainly oflogs, was indeed a jewel, softened and with a silver sheen thrown overit by the mountain air which was misty that morning. He dimly saw thelong black line of the train standing on the track, and here and therewarm rings of smoke rose from the chimneys and floated up into theheavens, where they were lost.
He thought he could detect little figures moving beside the train andhe knew that they must be those of his comrades. He felt for a momenta sense of loneliness. He had not known these lads long, but the battlehad bound them firmly together. They had been comrades in danger andthat made them comrades as long as they lived.
"Greatest town in the world," said Petty, waving toward it a huge hand,encased in a thick yarn glove. "I've traveled from it as much as
fiftymiles in every direction, north, south, east, an' west, an' I ain'tnever seed its match. I reckon I'm somethin' of a traveler, but everytime I come back to Townsville, I think all the more of it, seein' howmuch better it is than anything else."
Dick glanced at the mountaineer, and saw that there could be no doubt ofhis sincerity.
"You're a lucky man, Mr. Petty," he said, "to live in the finest placein the world."
"Yes, if I don't get drug off to the war. I'm not hankerin' for fightin'an' I don't know much what the war's about though I'm for the Union,fust to last, an' that's the way most of the people 'bout here feel.Turn your heads ag'in, friends, an' take another look at Townsville."
Dick and Whitley glanced back and saw only the blank gray wall of themountain. Petty laughed. He was the finest laugher that Dick had everheard. The laugh did not merely come from the mouth, it was also exuded,pouring out through every pore. It was rolling, unctuous, and so strongthat Petty not only shook with it, but his horse seemed to shake also.It was mellow, too, with an organ note that comes of a mighty lung andthroat, and of pure air breathed all the year around.
"Thought I'd git the joke on you," he said, when he stopped laughing."The road's been slantin' into the mountains, without you knowin' it,and Townsville is cut off by the cliffs. You'll find it gettin' wildernow 'till we start down the slope on the other side. Lucky our hossesare strong, 'cause the mud is deeper than I thought it would be."
It was not really a road that they were following, merely a path, andthe going was painful. Under Petty's instructions they stopped theirmounts now and then for a rest, and a mile further on they began to feela rising wind.
"It's the wind that I told you of," said Petty. "It's sucked through sixor seven miles of pass, an' it will blow straight in our faces all theway. As we'll be goin' up for a long distance you'll find it growin'colder, too. But you've got to remember that after you pass them coldwinds an' go down the slope you'll strike another warm little valley,the one in which Hubbard is layin' so neat an' so snug."
Dick had already noticed the increasing coldness and so had thesergeant. Whitley, from his long experience on the plains, had thekeenest kind of an eye for climatic changes. He noticed with someapprehension that the higher peaks were clothed in thick, cold fog, buthe said nothing to the brave boy whom he had grown to love like a son.But both he and Dick drew their heavy coats closer and were thankful forthe buckskin gloves, without which their hands would have stiffened onthe reins.
Now they rode in silence with their heads bent well forward, becausethe wind was becoming fiercer and fiercer. Over the peaks the fogs weregrowing thicker and darker and after a while the sharp edge of the windwas wet with rain. It stung their faces, and they drew their hat brimslower and their coat collars higher to protect themselves from such acutting blast.
"Told you we might have trouble," called Petty, cheerfully, "but ifyou ride right on through trouble you'll leave trouble behind. Nor thisain't nothin' either to what we kin expect before we git to the top ofthe pass. Cur'us what a pow'ful lot human bein's kin stand when theymake up their minds to it."
"Are the horses well shod?" asked Whitley.
"Best shod in the world, 'cause I done it myself. That's my trade,blacksmith, an' I'm a good one if I do say it. I heard before we startedthat you had been a soldier in the west. I s'pose that you had to lookmighty close to your hosses then. A man couldn't afford to be ridin'a hoss made lame by bad shoein' when ten thousand yellin' Sioux orBlackfeet was after him."
"No, you couldn't," replied the sergeant. "Out there you had to watchevery detail. That's one of the things that fightin' Indians taught.You had to be watchin' all the time an' I reckon the trainin' will beof value in this war. Are we mighty near to the top of the pass, Mr.Petty?"
"Got two or three miles yet. The slope is steeper on the other side. Werise a lot more before we hit the top."
The wind grew stronger with every rod they ascended, and the horsesbegan to pant with their severe exertions. At Petty's suggestion thethree riders dismounted and walked for a while, leading their horses.The rain turned to a fine hail and stung their faces. Had it notbeen for his two good comrades Dick would have found his situationinexpressibly lonely and dreary. The heavy fog now enveloped all thepeaks and ridges and filled every valley and chasm. He could see onlyfifteen or twenty yards ahead along the muddy path, and the fine hailwhich gave every promise of becoming a storm of sleet stung continually.The wind confined in the narrow gorge also uttered a hideous shriekingand moaning.
"Tests your nerve!" shouted Petty to Dick. "There are hard thingsbesides battles to stand, an' this is goin' to be one of the hard ones,but if you go through it all right you kin go through any number of thesame kind all right, too. Likely the sleet will be so thick that it willmake a sheet of slippery ice for us comin' back. Now, hosses that ain'tgot calks on thar shoes are pretty shore to slip an' fall, breakin' aleg or two, an' mebbe breakin' the necks of thar riders."
Dick looked at him with some amazement. Despite his announcement of diredisaster the man's eyes twinkled merrily and the round, red outline ofhis bushy head in the scarlet comforter made a cheerful blaze.
"It's jest as I told you," said Petty, meeting the boy's look. "Withoutcalks on thar shoes our hosses are pretty shore to slip on the iceand break theirselves up, or fall down a cliff an' break themselves upmore."
"Then why in thunder, Blaze," exclaimed Whitley, "did we start withoutcalks on the shoes of our horses?"
Red Blaze broke into a deep mellow laugh, starting from the bottom ofhis diaphragm, swelling as it passed through his chest, swelling againas it passed through throat and mouth, and bursting upon the open air ina mighty diapason that rose cheerfully above the shrieking and moaningof the wind.
"We didn't start without em," he replied. "The twelve feet of thesethree hosses have on 'em the finest calked shoes in all these mountains.I put 'em on myself, beginnin' the job this mornin' before you wasawake, your colonel, on the advice of the people of Townsville who knowme as one of its leadin' an' trusted citizens, havin' selected me as theguide of this trip. I was jest tellin' you what would happen to you if Ididn't justify the confidence of the people of Townsville."
"I allow, Red Blaze," said the sergeant with confidence, "that you ain'tno fool, an' that you're lookin' out for our best interests. Lead on."
Red Blaze's mellow and pleased laugh rose once more above the whistlingof the wind.
"You kin ride ag'in now, boys," he said. "The hosses are pretty wellrested."
They resumed the saddle gladly and now mounted toward the crest of thepass. The sleet turned to snow, which was a relief to their faces,and Dick, with the constant beating of wind and snow, began to feela certain physical exhilaration. He realized the truth of Red Blaze'sassertion that if you stiffen your back and push your way throughtroubles you leave troubles behind.
They rode now in silence for quite a while, and then Red Blaze suddenlyannounced:
"We're at the top, boys."
The Guns of Shiloh: A Story of the Great Western Campaign Page 5