Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER XXI

  A DELICATE SITUATION

  The wounded and those who watched them in the old house learned a littleof the race through the darkness. The change of the field of combat, thestruggle for Spottsylvania and the wheel-about of the Southern armywould leave them in the path of the North, and they must retreat towardRichmond.

  The start next morning was through a torn and rent Wilderness, amidsmoke and vapours, with wounded in the wagons, making a solemn trainthat wound its way through the forest, escorted on either flank bytroopers, commanded by Talbot, slightly wounded in the shoulder. TheSecretary had gone again to look on at the battle.

  It was thus that Lucia Catherwood found herself on the way, of her ownfree will, to that Richmond from which she had recently escaped with somuch trouble. There was no reason, real or conventional, why she shouldnot go, as the precious pass from the Secretary removed all danger; andthere in Richmond was Miss Grayson, the nearest of her blood. Helenremoved the last misgiving.

  "You will go with us? We need you," she said.

  "Yes," replied Lucia simply; "I shall go to Richmond. I have a relativethere with whom I can stay until the end of the war."

  Helen was contented with this. It was not a time to ask questions. Thenthey rode together. Mrs. Markham was with them, quiet and keen-eyed.Much of the battle's spell had gone from her, and she observedeverything, most of all Lucia Catherwood. She had noticed how the girl'seyes dwelled upon Prescott, the singular compound of strength andtenderness in her face, a character at once womanly and bold, and theastute Mrs. Markham began to wonder where these two had met before; butshe said nothing to any one.

  Prescott was in a wagon with Harley. Fate seemed to have linked forawhile these two who did not particularly care for each other. Both wereconscious, and Prescott was sitting up, refreshed by the air upon hisface, a heavy and noxious atmosphere though it was. So much of hisstrength had returned that he felt bitter regret at being unable to takepart in the great movement which, he had gathered, was going on, and itwas this feeling which united him and Harley for the time in a commonbond of sympathy; but the latter presently spoke of something else:

  "That was a beautiful girl who replaced your bandage this morning,Prescott. Upon my honour, she is one of the finest women I ever saw, andshe is going with us, I hear. Do you know anything about her?"

  Prescott did not altogether like Harley's tone, but he knew it wasfoolish to resent it and he replied:

  "She is Miss Lucia Catherwood, a relative of Miss Charlotte Grayson, wholives in Richmond, and whom I presume she is going there to join. I haveseen Miss Catherwood once or twice in Richmond."

  Then he relapsed into silence, and Harley was unable to draw from himany more information; but Prescott, watching Lucia, saw how strong andhelpful she was, doing all she could for those who were not her own. Awoman with all a woman's emotions and sympathies, controlled by a mindand body stronger than those of most women, she was yet of the earth,real and substantial, ready to take what it contained of joy or sorrow.This was one of her qualities that most strongly attracted Prescott, whodid not like the shadowy or unreal. Whilst he was on the earth he wishedto be of it, and he preferred the sure and strong mind to the misty anddreamy.

  He wished that she would come again to the wagon in which he rode, butnow she seemed to avoid him--to be impelled, as it were, by a sense ofshyness or a fear that she might be thought unfeminine. Thus he foundscant opportunity during the day to talk to her or even to see her, asshe remained nearly all the time in the rear of the column with HelenHarley.

  Harley's vagrant fancy was caught. He was impressed by Lucia's tallbeauty, her silence, her self-possession, and the mystery of herpresence. He wished to discover more about her, who she was, whence shecame, and believing Prescott to be his proper source of information, heasked him many questions, not noticing the impatient or taciturndemeanour of his comrade until Robert at last exclaimed with a touch ofanger:

  "Harley, if you wish to know so much about Miss Catherwood, you hadbetter ask her these questions, and if she wishes she will answer them."

  "I knew that before," replied Harley coolly; "and I tell you again,Prescott, she's a fine girl--none finer in Richmond."

  Prescott turned his back in so far as a wounded man in that narrow spacecould turn, and Harley presently relapsed into silence.

  They were yet in the Wilderness, moving among scrub pines, oaks andcedars, over ground moist with rain and dark with the shadow of theforest. It was Talbot's wish to keep in the rear of the Southern armyuntil the way was clear and then turn toward Richmond. But this was notdone with ease, as the Southern army was a shifting quantity, adaptingits movements to those of the North; and Talbot often was compelled tosend scouts abroad, lest he march with his convoy of wounded directlyinto the Northern ranks. Once as he rode by the side of Prescott's wagonhe remarked:

  "Confound such a place as this Wilderness; I don't think any region everbetter deserved its name. I'll thank the Lord when I get out of it andsee daylight again."

  They were then in a dense forest, where the undergrowth was so thickthat they broke a way through it with difficulty. The trees hung downmournful boughs dripping with recent rain; the wheels of the wagons andthe feet of the horses made a drumming sound in the soft earth; theforest fire still showed, distant and dim, and a thin mist of ashes cameon the wind at intervals; now and then they heard the low roll of acannon, so far away that it seemed but an echo.

  Thomas Talbot was usually a cheerful man who shut one eye to grief andopened the other to joy; but he was full of vigilance to-day and thoughtonly of duty. Riding at the head of his column, alert for danger, he wastroubled by the uncertainties of the way. It seemed to him that the twoarmies were revolving like spokes around a hub, and he never knew whichhe was going to encounter, for chance might bring him into the arc ofeither. He looked long at the gloomy forest, gazed at the dim fire whichmarked the latest battlefield, and became convinced that it was his onlypolicy to push on and take the risk, though he listened intently fordistant cannon shots and bore away from them.

  They stopped about the middle of the afternoon to rest the horses andserve men and women with scanty food. Prescott felt so strong that heclimbed out of the wagon and stood for a moment beside it. His head wasdizzy at first, but presently it became steady, and he walked to LuciaCatherwood, who was standing alone by a great oak tree, gazing at theforest.

  She did not notice him until she heard his step in the soft earth closebehind her, when she started in surprise and alarm, exclaiming upon therisk he took and cautioning against exertion.

  "My head is hard," he said, "and it will stand more blows than the one Ireceived in the battle. Really I feel well enough to walk out here and Iwant to speak to you."

  She was silent, awaiting his words. A shaft of sunshine pierced anopening in the foliage and fell directly upon her. Golden gleamsappeared here and there in her hair and the colour in her cheeksdeepened. Often Prescott had thought how strong she was; now he thoughthow very womanly she was.

  "You are going with the wounded to Richmond?" he said.

  "Yes," she replied. "I am going back to Miss Grayson's, to the house andthe city from which you helped me with so much trouble and danger toescape."

  "I am easier in my conscience because I did so," he said. "But MissCatherwood, do you not fear for yourself? Are you not venturing intodanger again?"

  She smiled once more and replied in a slightly humourous tone:

  "No; there is no danger. I went as one unwelcome before; I go as a guestnow. You see, I am rising in the Confederacy. One of your powerful men,Mr. Sefton, has been very kind to me."

  "What has he done for you?" asked Prescott, with a sudden jealoustwinge.

  "He has given me this pass, which will take me in or out of Richmond asI wish."

  She showed the pass, and as Prescott looked at it he felt the colourrise in his face. Could the heart of the Secretary have followed thecourse of his own?

&n
bsp; "I am here now, I may say, almost by chance," she continued. "After Ileft you I reached the main body of the Northern army in safety, and Iintended to go at once to Washington, where I have relatives, thoughnone so near and dear as Miss Grayson--you see I am really of the South,in part at least--but there was a long delay about a pass, the way ofgoing and other such things, and while I was waiting General Grant beganhis great forward movement. There was nothing left for me to do then butto cling to the army--and--and I thought I might be of some use there.Women may not be needed on a battlefield, but they are afterward."

  "I, most of all men, ought to know that," said Prescott, earnestly."Don't I know that you, unaided, brought me to that house? Were it notfor you I should probably have died alone in the Wilderness."

  "I owed you something, Captain Prescott, and I have tried to repay alittle," she said.

  "You owe me nothing; the debt is all mine."

  "Captain Prescott, I hope you do not think I have been unwomanly," shesaid.

  "Unwomanly? Why should I think it?"

  "Because I went to Richmond alone, though I did so really because I hadnowhere else to go. You believe me a spy, and you think for that reasonI was trying to escape from Richmond!"

  She stopped and looked at Prescott, and when she met his answering gazethe flush in her cheeks deepened.

  "Ah, I was right; you do think me a spy!" she exclaimed with passionateearnestness, "and God knows I might have been one! Some such thought wasin my mind when I went to Miss Grayson's in Richmond. That day in thePresident's office, when the people were at the reception I was sorelytempted, but I turned away. I went into that room with the fullintention of being a spy. I admit it. Morally, I suppose that I was oneuntil that moment, but when the opportunity came I could not do it. Thetemptation would come again, I knew, and it was one reason why I wishedto leave Richmond, though my first attempt was made because I fearedyou--I did not know you then. I do not like the name of spy and I do notwant to be one. But there were others, and far stronger reasons. Apowerful man knew of my presence in that office on that day; he couldhave proved me guilty even though innocent, and he could have involvedwith my punishment the destruction of others. There was MissGrayson--how could I bring ruin upon her head! And--and----"

  She stopped and the brilliant colour suffused her face.

  "You used the word 'others,'" said Prescott. "You mean that so long asyou were in Richmond my ruin was possible because I helped you?"

  She did not reply, but the vivid colour remained in her face.

  "It is nothing to me," said Prescott, "whether you were or were not aspy, or whether you were tempted to be one. My conscience does notreproach me because I helped you, but I think that it would give megrievous hurt had I not done so. I am not fitted to be the judge ofanybody, Miss Catherwood, least of all of you. It would never occur tome to think you unwomanly."

  "You see that I value your good opinion, Captain Prescott," she said,smiling slightly.

  "It is the only thing that makes my opinion of any worth."

  Talbot approached at that moment. Prescott introduced him with thecourtesy of the time, not qualified at all by their presentcircumstances, and he regarded Talbot's look of wonder and admirationwith a secret pleasure. What would Talbot say, he thought, if he were totell him that this was the girl for whom he had searched Miss Grayson'shouse?

  "Prescott," said Talbot, "a bruised head has put you here and ascratched arm keeps me in the same fix, but this is almost our old crowdand Richmond again--Miss Harley and her brother, Mrs. Markham, you andmyself. We ought to meet Winthrop, Raymond and General Wood."

  "We may," added Prescott, "as they are all somewhere with the army;Raymond is probably printing an issue of his paper in the rear of it--hecertainly has news--and as General Wood is usually everywhere we are notlikely to miss him."

  "I think it just as probable that we shall meet a troop of Yankeecavalry," said Talbot. "I don't know what they would want with a convoyof wounded Confederates, but I'm detailed to take you to safety and I'dlike to do it."

  He paused and looked at Lucia. Something in her manner gave him apassing idea that she was not of his people.

  "Still there is not much danger of that," he continued. "The Yankees arepoor horsemen--not to be compared with ours, are they, Miss Catherwood?"

  She met his gaze directly and smiled.

  "I think the Yankee cavalry is very good," she said. "You may call me aYankee, too, Captain Talbot. I am not traveling in disguise."

  Talbot stroked his mustache, of which he was proud, and laughed.

  "I thought so," he said; "and I can't say I'm sorry. I suppose I oughtto hate all the Yankees, but really it will add to the spice of life tohave with us a Yankee lady who is not afraid to speak her mind. Besides,if things go badly with us we can relieve our minds by attacking you."

  Talbot was philosophical as well as amiable, and Prescott saw at oncethat he and Lucia would be good friends, which was a comfort, as it wasin the power of the commander of the convoy to have made her lifeunpleasant.

  Talbot stayed only a minute or two, then rode on to the head of thecolumn, and when he was gone Lucia said:

  "Captain Prescott, you must go back to your wagon; it is not wise foryou to stay on your feet so long--at least, not yet."

  He obeyed her reluctantly, and in a few moments the convoy moved onthrough the deep woods to the note of an occasional and distant cannonshot and a faint hum as of great armies moving. An hour later they hearda swift gallop and the figure of Wood at the head of a hundred horsemenappeared.

  The mountaineer seemed to embrace the whole column in one comprehensivelook that was a smile of pleasure when it passed over the face of HelenHarley, a glance of curiosity when it lingered on Lucia Catherwood, andinquiry when it reached Talbot, who quickly explained his mission. Allsurrounded Wood, eager for news.

  "We're going to meet down here somewhere near a place they callSpottsylvania," said the General succinctly. "It won't be many days--twoor three, I guess--and it will be as rough a meeting as that behind uswas. If I were you, Talbot, I'd keep straight on to the south."

  Then the General turned with his troopers to go. It was not a time whenhe could afford to tarry; but before starting he took Helen Harley'shand in his with a grace worthy of better training:

  "I'll bring you news of the coming battle, Miss Harley."

  She thanked him with her eyes, and in a moment he was gone, he and histroopers swallowed up by the black forest. The convoy resumed its waythrough the Wilderness, passing on at a pace that was of necessity slowowing to the wounded in the wagons and the rough and tangled nature ofthe country, which lost nothing of its wild and somber character. Thedwarf cedars and oaks and pines still stretched away to the horizon.Night began to come down in the east and there the Wilderness heaved upin a black mass against the sullen sky. The low note of a cannon shotcame now and then like the faint rumble of dying thunder.

  Lucia walked alone near the rear of the column. She had grown weary ofthe wagons and her strong young frame craved exercise. She was seldomafraid or awed, but now the sun sinking over the terrible Wilderness andthe smoke of battle around chilled her. The long column of the hurt,winding its way so lonely and silent through the illimitable forest,seemed like a wreck cast up from the battles, and her soul was full ofsympathy. In a nature of unusual strength her emotions were of likequality, and though once she had been animated by a deep and passionateanger against that South with which she now marched, at this moment shefound it all gone--slipped away while she was not noticing. She lovedher own cause none the less, but no longer hated the enemy. She hadreceived the sympathy and the friendship of a woman toward whom she hadonce felt a sensation akin to dislike. She did not forget how she hadstood in the fringe of the crowd that day in Richmond and had enviedHelen Harley when, in her glowing beauty, she received the tribute ofthe multitude. Now the two women were drawn together. Something that hadbeen between them was gone, and in her heart Lucia knew what it
was; butshe rejoiced in a companionship and a friendship of her own sex when shewas among those who were not of her cause.

  It was impossible to resist sharing the feelings of the column: when itwas in dread lest some wandering echo might be the tread of Northernhorsemen, she, too, was in dread. She wanted this particular column toescape, but when she looked toward another part of the Wilderness, sawthe dim light and heard the far rumble of another cannon shot, she felta secret glow of pride. Grant was still coming, always coming, and hewould come to the end. The result was no longer in doubt; it was nowmerely a matter of time and patience.

  The sun sank behind the Wilderness; the night came down, heavy, blackand impenetrable; slow thunder told of rain, and Talbot halted theconvoy in the densest part of the forest, where the shelter would bebest--for he was not sure of his way and farther marching in the darkmight take him into the enemy's camp. All day they had not passed asingle house nor met a single dweller in the Wilderness; if they hadbeen near any woodcutter's hut it was hidden in a ravine and they didnot see it. If a woodcutter himself saw them he remained in his covertin the thicket and they passed on, unspoken.

  Talbot thought it best to camp where they were for the night, and hedrew up the wagons in a circle, in the centre of which were built firesthat burned with a smoky flame. All hovered around the blaze, as theyfelt lonely in this vast Wilderness and were glad when the beds of coalbegan to form and glow red in the darkness. Even the wounded in thewagons turned their eyes that way and drew cheer from the ruddy glow.

  A rumour arose presently, and grew. It said that a Yankee woman wasamong them, traveling with them. Some one added that she bore a passfrom the powerful Mr. Sefton and was going to Richmond, but why he didnot know. Then they looked about among the women and decided that itcould be none save Lucia; but if there was any feeling of hostilitytoward her it soon disappeared. Other women were with the column, butnone so strong, none so helpful as she. Always she knew what to do andwhen to do it. She never grew tired nor lost her good humour; her touchhad healing in it, and the wounded grew better at the sight of her face.

  "If all the Yankees are like her, I wish I had a few more with thiscolumn," murmured Talbot under his breath.

  Lucia began to feel the change in the atmosphere about her. The coldnessvanished. She looked upon the faces that welcomed her, and being a womanshe felt warmth at her heart, but said nothing.

  Prescott crawled again from his wagon and said to her as she passed:

  "Why do you avoid me, Miss Catherwood?"

  A gleam of humour appeared in her eye.

  "You are getting well too fast. I do not think you will need any moreattention," she replied.

  He regarded her with an unmoved countenance.

  "Miss Catherwood," he said, "I feel myself growing very much worse. Itis a sudden attack and a bad one."

  But she passed on, disbelieving, and left him rueful.

  The night went by without event, and then another day and another night,and still they hovered in the rear of their army, uncertain which way togo, tangled up in the Wilderness and fearing at any moment a raid of theNorthern cavalry. They yet saw the dim fire in the forest, and no hourwas without its distant cannon shot.

  On the second day the two editors, Raymond and Winthrop, joined them.

  "I've been trying to print a paper," said Raymond ruefully, "but theywouldn't stay in one place long enough for me to get my press going.This morning a Yankee cannon shot smashed the press and I suppose Imight as well go back to Richmond. But I can't, with so much coming on.They'll be in battle before another day."

  Raymond spoke in solemn tones (even he was awed and oppressed by what hehad seen) and Winthrop nodded assent.

  "They are converging upon the same point," said Winthrop, "and they aresure to meet inside of twenty-four hours."

  When Lucia awoke the next morning the distant guns were sounding in herears and a light flame burned under the horizon in the north. Day hadjust come, hot and close, and the sun showed the colour of copperthrough the veil of clouds hanging at the tops of the trees.

  "It's begun," she heard Talbot say briefly, but she did not need hiswords to tell her that the armies were joined again in deadly strife inthe Wilderness.

  They ate breakfast in silence, all watching the glowing light in thenorth and listening to the thunder of the guns. Prescott, strong afterhis night's rest and sleep, came from the wagon and announced that hewould not ride as an invalid any more; he intended to do his share ofthe work, and Talbot did not contradict him; it was a time when a manwho could serve should be permitted to do it.

  Talbot said they would remain in the camp for the present and await thefortunes of the battle; it was not worth while to continue a retreatwhen none knew in which direction the right path lay. But the men asthey listened were seized with a fever of impatience. The flame of thecannon and the thunder of the battle had a singular attraction for them.They wished to be there and they cursed their fate because they werehere. The wounded lamented their wounds and the well were sad becausethey were detailed for such duty; the new battle was going on withoutthem, and the result would be decided while they waited there in theWilderness with their hands folded. How they missed the Secretary withhis news!

  The morning went slowly on. The sun rose high, but it still shone with acoppery hue through the floating clouds, and a thick blanket of dampheat enclosed the convoy. The air seemed to tremble with the sound fromthe distant battle; it came in waves, and save for it the forest wassilent; no birds sang in the trees, nothing moved in the grass. Therewas only the rumble of guns, coming wave upon wave. Thus hour after hourpassed, and the fever of impatience still held the souls of those inthis column. But the black Wilderness would tell no tale; it gave backthe sound of conflict and nothing more. They watched the growing smokeand flame, the forest bursting into fresh fires, and knew only that thebattle was fierce and desperate, as before.

  Prescott's strength was returning rapidly, and he expected in anotherday or two to return to the army. The spirit was strong within him tomake the trial now, but Talbot would not hear of it, saying that hiswound was not healed sufficiently. On the morning of that second day hestood beside Lucia, somewhat withdrawn from the others, and for awhilethey watched the distant battle. It was the first time in twenty-fourhours that he had been able to speak to her. She had not seemed exactlyto avoid him, but she was never in his path. Now he wished to hold herthere with talk.

  "I fear that you will be lonely in Richmond," he said at random.

  "I shall have Miss Grayson," she replied, "and the panorama of the warwill pass before me; I shall not have time for loneliness."

  "Poor Richmond! It is desolate now."

  "Its condition may become worse," she said meaningly.

  He understood the look in her eyes and replied:

  "You mean that Grant will come?"

  "Yes!" she exclaimed, pointing toward the flame of the battle. "Can'tyou see? Don't you know, Captain Prescott, that Grant will never turnback? It is but three days since he fought a battle as great asGettysburg, and now he is fighting another. The man has come, and thetime for the South is at hand."

  "But what a price--what a price!" said Prescott.

  "Yes," she replied quickly; "but it is the South, not the North, thatdemands payment."

  Then she stopped, and brilliant colour flushed into her face.

  "Forgive me for saying such things at such a time," she said. "I do nothate anybody in the South, and I am now with Southern people. Credit itto my bad taste."

  But Prescott would not have it so. It was he who had spoken, he said,and she had the right to reply. Then he asked her indirectly of herself,and she answered willingly. Hers had been a lonely life, and she hadbeen forced to develop self-reliance, though perhaps it had taken herfurther than she intended. She seemed still to fear that he would thinkher too masculine, a bit unwomanly; but her loneliness, the lack of lovein her life, made a new appeal to Prescott. He admired her as she stoodthere
in her splendid young beauty and strength--a woman with a mind tomatch her beauty--and wondered how his fleeting fancy could ever havebeen drawn to any other. She was going to that hostile Richmond, whereshe had been in such danger, and she would be alone there save for oneweak woman, watched and suspected like herself. He felt a suddenoverwhelming desire to protect her, to defend her, to be a wall betweenher and all danger.

  Far off on the northern horizon the battle flamed and rumbled, and afaint reflection of its lurid glow fell on the forest where they stood.It may be that its reflection fell on Prescott's ardent mind andhastened him on.

  "Lucia," he exclaimed, "you are going back to Richmond, where you willbe suspected, perhaps insulted! Give me the right to protect you fromeverybody!"

  "Give you the right!" she exclaimed, in surprise; but as she looked athim the brilliant colour dyed her face and neck.

  "Yes, Lucia," he said, "the greatest and holiest of all rights! Do younot see that I love you? Be my wife! Give me the right as your husbandto stand between you and all danger!"

  Still she looked at him, and as she gazed the colour left her face,leaving it very pale, while her eyes showed a dazzling hue.

  The forgotten battle flamed and thundered on the horizon.

  "No," she replied, "I cannot give you such a promise."

  "Lucia! You do not mean that! I know you do not. You must care for me alittle. One reason why you fled from Richmond was to save me!"

  "Yes, I do care for you--a little. But do you care for me enough--ah! donot interrupt me! Think of the time, the circumstances! One may saythings now which he might not mean in a cooler moment. You wish toprotect me--does a man marry a woman merely to protect her? I havealways been able to protect myself."

  There was a flash of pride in her tone and her tall figure grew taller.Prescott flushed a little and dropped his eyes for a moment.

  "I have been unfortunate in my words, but, believe me, Lucia, I do notmean it in that way. It is love, not protection, that I offer. I believethat I loved you from the first--from the time I was pursuing you as aspy; and I pursue you now, though for myself."

  She shook her head sadly, though she smiled upon him. She was his enemy,she said--she was of the North and he of the South--what would he say tohis friends in Richmond, and how could he compromise himself by such amarriage? Moreover, it was a time of war, and one must not think oflove. He grew more passionate in his declaration as he saw that which hewished slipping from him, and she, though still refusing him, let himtalk, because he said the things that she loved best to hear. All thewhile the forgotten battle flamed and thundered on the northern horizon.Its result and progress alike were of no concern to them; both North andSouth had floated off in the distance.

  Talbot came that way as they talked, and seeing the look on their faces,started and turned back. They never saw him. Lucia remained fixed in herresolve and only shook her head at Prescott's pleading.

  "But at least," said Prescott, "that 'no' is not to apply forever. Ishall refuse to despair."

  She smiled somewhat sadly without reply, and there was no opportunity tosay more, as others drew near, among them Mrs. Markham, wary andkeen-eyed as ever. She marked well the countenances of these two, butreserved her observations for future use.

  The battle reclaimed attention, silhouetted as it was in a great flamingcloud against a twilight sky, and its low rumble was an unbroken note.

  When night fell a messenger came with terrible news. Grant had brokenthrough at last! The thin lines of the Confederates could not stand thissteady, heavy hammering day after day. They must retreat through theWilderness and draw fresh breath to fight again. Sadly the convoy tookits way to the south, and in three hours it was enveloped by theremnants of a broken brigade, retreating in the fear of hot pursuit byboth cavalry and infantry. The commander of the brigade, by virtue ofhis rank, became commander of the whole, and Talbot, longing for action,fell back to the rear, resolved to watch for the enemy.

  Talbot hated to exercise authority, preferring to act alone; and now hebecame a picket, keen-eyed, alert, while his friends went into campahead on the bank of a narrow but deep river. Presently he heard shotsand knew that the skirmishers of the enemy were advancing, though hewondered why they should show such pernicious activity on so black anight. They were in battle with some other retreating Southernforce--probably a regiment, he thought--and if they wanted to fight hecould not help it.