CHAPTER II. AT THE CAPITAL
The Southern cavalry was seen almost at the same time by many men in theregiments, and nervous and hasty, as was natural at such a time, theyopened a scattering fire. The horsemen did not return the fire, butseemed to melt away in the darkness.
But the shrewdest of the officers, among whom was Colonel Winchester,took alarm at this sudden appearance and disappearance. Dick would havedivined from their manner, even without their talk, that they believedJackson was at hand. Action followed quickly. The army stopped andbegan to seek a strong position in the wood. Cannon were drawn up, theirmouths turned to the side on which the horsemen had appeared, and theworn regiments assumed the attitude of defense. Dick's heart throbbedwith pride when he saw that they were as ready as ever to fight,although they had suffered great losses and the bitterest ofdisappointments.
"What I said I've got to say over again," said Pennington ruefully: "thenight's no time for fighting. It's heathenish in Stonewall Jackson tofollow us, and annoy us in such a way."
"Such a way! Such a way!" said Dick impatiently. "We've got to learn tofight as he does. Good God, Frank, think of all the sacrifices we aremaking to save our Union, the great republic! Think how the hateful oldmonarchies will sneer and rejoice if we fall, and here in the East ourgenerals just throw our men away! They divide and scatter our armies insuch a manner that we simply ask to be beaten."
"Sh! sh!" said Warner, as he listened to the violent outbreak, sounusual on the part of the reserved and self-contained lad. "Here cometwo generals."
"Two too many," muttered Dick. A moment or two later he was ashamed ofhimself, not because of what he had said, but because he had said it.Then Warner seized him by the arm and pointed.
"A new general, bigger than all the rest, has come," he said, "andalthough I've never seen him before I know with mathematical certaintythat it's General John Pope, commander-in-chief of the Army ofVirginia."
Both Dick and Pennington knew instinctively that Warner was right.General Pope, a strongly built man in early middle years, surrounded bya brilliant staff, rode into a little glade in the midst of the troops,and summoned to him the leading officers who had taken part in thebattle.
Dick and his two comrades stood on one side, but they could not keepfrom hearing what was said and done. In truth they did not seek toavoid hearing, nor did many of the young privates who stood near and whoconsidered themselves quite as good as their officers.
Pope, florid and full-faced, was in a fine humor. He complimented theofficers on their valor, spoke as if they had won a victory--which wouldhave been a fact had others done their duty--and talked slightingly ofJackson. The men of the west would show this man his match in the art ofwar.
Dick listened to it all with bitterness in his heart. He had no doubtthat Pope was brave, and he could see that he was confident. Yet it tooksomething more than confidence to defeat an able enemy. What had becomeof those gray horsemen in the bush? They had appeared once and theycould appear again. He had believed that Jackson himself was at hand,and he still believed it. His eyes shifted from Pope to the dark woods,which, with their thick foliage, turned back the moonlight.
"George," he whispered to Warner, "do you think you can see anythingamong those trees?"
"I can make out dimly one or two figures, which no doubt are our scouts.Ah-h!"
The long "Ah-h!" was drawn by a flash and the report of a rifle. Asecond and a third report came, and then the crash of a heavy fire. Thescouts and sentinels came running in, reporting that a great force withbatteries, presumably the whole army of Jackson, was at hand.
A deep murmur ran through the Union army, but there was no confusion.The long hours of fighting had habituated them to danger. They werealso too tired to become excited, and in addition, they were of as sternstuff at night as they had been in the morning. They were ready to fightagain.
Formidable columns of troops appeared through the woods, their bayonetsglistening in the moonlight. The heavy rifle fire began once more,although it was nearly midnight, and then came the deep thunder ofcannon, sending round shot and shells among the Union troops. But themen in blue, harried beyond endurance, fought back fiercely. They sharedthe feelings of Pennington. They felt that they had been persecuted,that this thing had grown inhuman, and they used rifles and cannon withastonishing vigor and energy.
Two heavy Union batteries replied to the Southern cannon, raking thewoods with shell, round shot and grape, and Dick concluded that in theface of so much resolution Jackson would not press an attack at night,when every kind of disaster might happen in the darkness. His ownregiment had lain down among the leaves, and the men were firing at theflashes on their right. Dick looked for General Pope and his brilliantstaff, but he did not see them.
"Gone to bring up the reserves," whispered Warner, who saw Dick'sinquiring look.
But the Vermonter's slur was not wholly true. Pope was on his way to hismain force, doubtless not really believing that Jackson himself wasat hand. But the little army that he left behind fighting with renewedenergy and valor broke away from the Southern grasp and continued itsmarch toward that court house, in which the boys could see no merit.Jackson himself, knowing what great numbers were ahead, was content toswing away and seek for prey elsewhere.
They emerged from the wood toward morning and saw ahead of them greatmasses of troops in blue. They would have shouted with joy, but theywere too tired. Besides, nearly two thousand of their men were killed orwounded, and they had no victory to celebrate.
Dick ate breakfast with his comrades. The Northern armies nearly alwayshad an abundance of provisions, and now they were served in plenty. Forthe moment, the physical overcame the mental in Dick. It was enough toeat and to rest and to feel secure. Thousands of friendly faces werearound them, and they would not have to fight in either day or dark fortheir lives. Their bones ceased to ache, and the good food and the goodcoffee began to rebuild the worn tissues. What did the rest matter?
After breakfast these men who had marched and fought for nearly twentyhours were told to sleep. Only one command was needed. It was August,and the dry grass and the soft earth were good enough for anybody. Thethree lads, each with an arm under his head, slept side by side. At noonthey were still sleeping, and Colonel Winchester, as he was passing,looked at the three, but longest at Dick. His gaze was half affection,half protection, but it was not the boy alone whom he saw. He saw alsohis fair-haired young mother in that little town on the other side ofthe mountains.
While Dick still slept, the minds of men were at work. Pope's army,hitherto separated, was now called together by a battle. Troops fromevery direction were pouring upon the common center. The little armywhich had fought so gallantly the day before now amounted to onlyone-fourth of the whole. McDowell, Sigel and many other generals joinedPope, who, with the strange faculty of always seeing his enemy toosmall, while McClellan always saw him too large, began to feed upon hisown sanguine anticipations, and to regard as won the great victory thathe intended to win. He sent telegrams to Washington announcing that histriumph at Cedar Run was only the first of a series that his army wouldsoon achieve.
It was late in the afternoon when Dick awoke, and he was amazed to seethat the sun was far down the western sky. But he rubbed his eyes and,remembering, knew that he had slept at least ten hours. He looked downat the relaxed figures of Warner and Pennington on either side of him.They still slumbered soundly, but he decided that they had slept longenough.
"Here, you," he exclaimed, seizing Warner by the collar and dragging himto a sitting position, "look at the sun! Do you realize that you've losta day out of your bright young life?"
Then he seized Pennington by the collar also and dragged him up. BothWarner and Pennington yawned prodigiously.
"If I've lost a day, and it would seem that I have, then I'm glad ofit," replied Warner. "I could afford to lose several in such a pleasantmanner. I suppose a lot of Stonewall Jackson's men were shooting at mewhile I slept, but I was lucky
and didn't know about it."
"You talk too long," said Pennington. "That comes of your having taughtschool. You could talk all day to boys younger than yourself, and theywere afraid to answer back."
"Shut up, both of you," said Dick. "Here comes the sergeant, and I thinkfrom his look he has something to say worth hearing."
Sergeant Whitley had cleansed the blood and dust from his face, anda handkerchief tied neatly around his head covered up the smallwound there. He looked trim and entirely restored, both mentally andphysically.
"Well, sergeant," said Dick ingratiatingly, "if any thing has happenedin this army you're sure to know of it. We'd have known it ourselves,but we had an important engagement with Morpheus, a world away, and wehad to keep it. Now what is the news?"
"I don't know who Morpheus is," replied the sergeant, laughing, "butI'd guess from your looks that he is another name for sleep. There is nonews of anything big happenin'. We've got a great army here, and Jacksonremains near our battlefield of yesterday. I should say that we numberat least fifty thousand men, or about twice the rebels."
"Then why don't we march against 'em at once?"
The sergeant shrugged his shoulders. It was not for him to tell whygenerals did not do things.
"I think," he said, "that we're likely to stay here a day or two."
"Which means," said Dick, his alert mind interpreting at once, "thatour generals don't know what to do. Why is it that they always seemparalyzed when they get in front of Stonewall Jackson? He's only a manlike the rest of them!"
He spoke with perfect freedom in the presence of Sergeant Whitley,knowing that he would repeat nothing.
"A man, yes," said Warner, in his precise manner, "but not exactly likethe others. He seems to have more of the lightning flash about him. Whata pity such a leader should be on the wrong side! Perhaps we'll have hisequal in time."
"Is Jackson's army just sitting still?" asked Dick.
"So far as scouts can gather, an' I've been one of them," repliedSergeant Whitley, "it seems to be just campin'. But I wish I knew whichway it was goin' to jump. I don't trust Jackson when he seems to benappin'."
But the good sergeant's doubts were to remain for two days at least. Thetwo armies sat still, only two miles apart, and sentinels, as was commonthroughout the great war, became friendly with one another. Often theymet in the woods and exchanged news and abundant criticism of generals.At last there was a truce to bury the dead who still lay upon thesanguinary field of Cedar Run.
Dick was in charge of one of these burial parties, and toward the closeof the day he saw a familiar figure, also in command of a burial party,although it was in a gray uniform. His heart began to thump, andhe uttered a cry of joy. The unexpected, but not the unnatural, hadhappened.
"Oh, Harry! Harry!" he shouted.
The strong young figure in the uniform of a lieutenant in the Southernarmy turned in surprise at the sound of a familiar voice, and stood,staring.
"Dick! Dick Mason!" he cried. Then the two sprang forward and graspedthe hands of each other. There was no display of emotion--they were ofthe stern American stock, taught not to show its feelings--but theireyes showed their gladness.
"Harry," said Dick, "I knew that you had been with Jackson, but I had noway of knowing until a moment ago that you were yet alive."
"Nor I you, Dick. I thought you were in the west."
"I was, but after Shiloh, some of us came east to help. It seemed afterthe Seven Days that we were needed more here than in the west."
"You never said truer words, Dick. They'll need you and many morethousands like you. Why, Dick, we're not led here by a man, we're ledby a thunderbolt. I'm on his staff, I see him every day. He talks tome, and I talk to him. I tell you, Dick, it's a wonderful thing to servesuch a genius. You can't beat him! His kind appears only a few times inthe ages. He always knows what's to be done and he does it. Even if yourgenerals knew what ought to be done, most likely they'd do somethingelse."
Harry's face glowed with enthusiasm as he spoke of his hero, and Dick,looking at him, shook his head sadly.
"I'm afraid that what you say is true for the present at least, Harry,"he said. "You beat us now here in the east, but don't forget that we'rewinning in the west. And don't forget that here in the east even, youcan never wear us out. We'll be coming, always coming."
"All right, old Sober Sides, we won't quarrel about it. We'll let timesettle it. Here come some friends of mine whom I want you to know.Curious that you should meet them at such a time."
Two other young lieutenants in gray uniforms at the head of burialparties came near in the course of their work, and Harry called to them.
"Tom! Arthur! A moment, please! This is my cousin, Dick Mason, a Yankee,though I think he's honest in his folly. Dick, this is Arthur St. Clair,and this is Tom Langdon, both friends of mine from South Carolina."
They shook hands warmly. There was no animosity between them. Dickliked the looks and manners of Harry's friends. He could have been theirfriend, too.
"Harry has talked about you often," said Happy Tom Langdon. "Says you'rea great scholar, and a good fellow, all right every way, except thecrack in your head that makes you a Yankee. I hope you won't get hurt inthis unpleasantness, and when our victorious army comes into Washingtonwe'll take good care of you and release you soon."
Dick smiled. He liked this youth who could keep up the spirit of funamong such scenes.
"Don't you pay any attention to Langdon, Mr. Mason," said St. Clair. "Ifhe'd only fight as well and fast as he talks there'd be no need for therest of us."
"You know you couldn't win the war without me," said Langdon.
They talked a little more together, then trumpets blew, the work wasdone and they must withdraw to their own armies. They had been engagedin a grewsome task, but Dick was glad to the bottom of his heart to havebeen sent upon it. He had learned that Harry still lived, and he had methim. He did not understand until then how dear his cousin was to him.They were more like brothers than cousins. It was like the affectiontheir great-grandfathers, Henry Ware and Paul Cotter, had felt for eachother, although those famous heroes of the border had always foughtside by side, while their descendants were compelled to face each otheracross a gulf.
They shook hands and withdrew slowly. At the edge of the field, Dickturned to wave another farewell, and he found that Harry, actuatedby the same motive at the same time, had also turned to make a likegesture. Each waved twice, instead of once, and then they disappearedamong the woods. Dick returned to Colonel Winchester.
"While we were under the flag of truce I met my cousin, Harry Kenton,"he said.
"One of the lucky fortunes of war."
"Yes, sir, I was very glad to see him. I did not know how glad I wasuntil I came away. He says that we can never beat Jackson, that nothingbut death can ever stop him."
"Youth often deceives itself, nor is age any exception. Never lose hope,Dick."
"I don't mean to do so, sir."
The next morning, when Dick was with one of the outposts, a man ofpowerful build, wonderfully quick and alert in his movements, appeared.His coming was so quick and silent that he seemed to rise from theearth, and Dick was startled. The man's face was uncommon. His featureswere of great strength, the eyes being singularly vivid and penetrating.He was in civilian's dress, but he promptly showed a pass from GeneralPope, and Dick volunteered to take him to headquarters, where he said hewished to go.
Dick became conscious as they walked along that the man was examininghim minutely with those searching eyes of his which seemed to look onethrough and through.
"You are Lieutenant Richard Mason," said the stranger presently, "andyou have a cousin, Harry Kenton, also a lieutenant, but in the army ofStonewall Jackson."
Dick stared at him in amazement.
"Everything you say is true," he said, "but how did you know it?"
"It's my business to know. Knowledge is my sole pursuit in this greatwar, and a most engrossing and dangerous task I
find it. Yet, I wouldnot leave it. My name is Shepard, and I am a spy. You needn't shrink.I'm not ashamed of my occupation. Why should I be? I don't kill. I don'tcommit any violence. I'm a guide and educator. I and my kind are theeyes of an army. We show the generals where the enemy is, and wetell them his plans. An able and daring spy is worth more than manya general. Besides, he takes the risk of execution, and he can win noglory, for he must always remain obscure, if not wholly unknown. Which,then, makes the greater sacrifice for his country, the spy or thegeneral?"
"You give me a new point of view. I had not thought before how spiesrisked so much for so little reward."
Shepard smiled. He saw that in spite of his logic Dick yet retainedthat slight feeling of aversion. The boy left him, when they arrived atheadquarters, but the news that Shepard brought was soon known to thewhole army.
Jackson had left his camp. He was gone again, disappeared into theether. "Retreated" was the word that Pope at once seized upon, and hesent forth happy bulletins. Shepard and other scouts and spies reporteda day or two later that Jackson's army was on the Rapidan, one of thenumerous Virginia rivers. Then Dick accompanied Colonel Winchester, whowas sent by rail to Washington with dispatches.
He did not find in the capital the optimism that reigned in the mind ofPope. McClellan was withdrawing his army from Virginia, but the eyes ofthe nation were turned toward Pope. Many who had taken deep thought ofthe times and of men, were more alarmed about Pope than he was abouthimself. They did not like those jubilant dispatches from "Headquartersin the Saddle." There was ominous news that Lee himself was marchingnorth, and that he and Jackson would soon be together. Anxious eyesscanned the hills about Washington. The enemy had been very near oncebefore, and he might soon be near again.
Dick had an hour of leisure, and he wandered into an old hotel, at whichmany great men had lived. They would point to Henry Clay's famous chairin the lobby, and the whole place was thick with memories of Webster,Calhoun and others who had seemed almost demigods to their owngeneration.
But a different crowd was there now. They were mostly paunchy men whotalked of contracts and profits. One, to whom the others paid deference,was fat, heavy and of middle age, with a fat, heavy face and pouchesunder his eyes. His small eyes were set close together, but theysparkled with shrewdness and cunning.
The big man presently noticed the lad who was sitting quietly in oneof the chairs against the wall. Dick's was an alien presence there, anddoubtless this fact had attracted his attention.
"Good day to you," said the stranger in a bluff, deep voice. "I takeit from your uniform, your tan and your thinness that you've come fromactive service."
"In both the west and the east," replied Dick politely. "I was atShiloh, but soon afterward I was transferred with my regiment to theeast."
"Ah, then, of course, you know what is going on in Virginia?"
"No more than the general public does. I was at Cedar Run, which both weand the rebels claim as a victory."
The man instantly showed a great increase of interest.
"Were you?" he said. "My own information says that Banks and Pope weresurprised by Jackson and that the rebel general has merely drawn off tomake a bigger jump. Did you get that impression?"
"Will you tell me why you ask me these questions?" said Dick in the samepolite tone.
"Because I've a big stake in the results out there. My name is JohnWatson, and I'm supplying vast quantities of shoes and clothing to ourtroops."
Dick turned up the sole of one of his shoes and picked thoughtfully at ahole half way through the sole. Little pieces of paper came out.
"I bought these, Mr. Watson, from a sutler in General Pope's army," hesaid. "I wonder if they came from you?"
A deeper tint flushed the contractor's cheeks, but in a moment he threwoff anger.
"A good joke," he said jovially. "I see that you're ready of wit,despite your youth. No, those are not my shoes. I know dishonest men aremaking great sums out of supplies that are defective or short. A greatwar gives such people many opportunities, but I scorn them. I'll notdeny that I seek a fair profit, but my chief object is to serve mycountry. Do you ever reflect, my young friend, that the men who clotheand feed an army have almost as much to do with winning the victory asthe men who fight?"
"I've thought of it," said Dick, wondering what the contractor had inmind.
"What regiment do you belong to, if I may ask? My motive in asking thesequestions is wholly good."
"One commanded by Colonel Winchester, recently sent from the west. We'vebeen in only one battle in the east, that fought at Cedar Run againstJackson."
Watson again looked at Dick intently. The boy felt that he was beingmeasured and weighed by a man of uncommon perceptions. Whatever might behis moral quality there could be no question of his ability.
"I am, as I told you before," said Watson, "a servant of my country. Aman who feeds and clothes the soldiers well is a patriot, while he whofeeds and clothes them badly is a mere money grubber."
He paused, as if he expected Dick to say something, but the boy wassilent and he went on:
"It is to the interest of the country that it be served well in alldepartments, particularly in the tremendous crisis that we now face. Yetthe best patriot cannot always get a chance to serve. He needsfriends at court, as they say. Now this colonel of yours, ColonelWinchester--I've observed both him and you, although I approached youas if I'd never heard of either of you before--is a man of character andinfluence. Certain words from him at the right time would be of greatvalue, nor would his favorite aide suffer through bringing the matter tohis attention."
Dick saw clearly now, but he was not impulsive. Experience was teachinghim, while yet a boy, to speak softly.
"The young aide of whom you speak," he said, "would never think ofmentioning such a matter to the colonel, of whom you also speak, andeven if he should, the colonel wouldn't listen to him for a moment."
Watson shrugged his shoulders slightly, but made no other gesture ofdispleasure.
"Doubtless you are well informed about this aide and this colonel," hesaid, "but it's a pity. If more food is thrown to the sparrows than theycan eat, is it any harm for other birds to eat the remainder?"
"I scarcely regard it as a study in ornithology."
"Ornithology? That's a big word, but I suppose it will serve. We'lldrop the matter, and if at any time my words here should be quoted I'llpromptly deny them. It's a bad thing for a boy to have his statementsdisputed by a man of years who can command wealth and other powerfulinfluences. Unless he had witnesses nobody would believe the boy. I tellyou this, my lad, partly for your own good, because I'm inclined to likeyou."
Dick stared. There was nothing insulting in the man's tone. He seemedto be thoroughly in earnest. Perhaps he regarded his point of view asright, and Dick, a boy of thought and resource, saw that it was notworth while to make a quarrel. But he resolved to remember Watson,feeling that the course of events might bring them together again.
"I suppose it's as you say," he said. "You're a man of affairs and youought to know."
Watson smiled at him. Dick felt that the contractor had been tellingthe truth when he said that he was inclined to like him. Perhaps he washonest and supplied good materials, when others supplied bad.
"You will shake hands with me, Mr. Mason," he said. "You think thatI will be hostile to you, but maybe some day I can prove myself yourfriend. Young soldiers often need friends."
His eyes twinkled and his smile widened. In spite of his appearance andhis proposition, something winning had suddenly appeared in the mannerof this man. Dick found himself shaking hands with him.
"Good-bye, Mr. Mason," said Watson. "It may be that we shall meet on thefield, although I shall not be within range of the guns."
He left the lobby of the hotel, and Dick was rather puzzled. It washis first thought to tell Colonel Winchester about him, but he finallydecided that Watson's own advice to him to keep silent was best. He andColonel Winchester too
k the train from Washington the next day, and onthe day after were with Pope's army on the Rapidan.
Dick detected at once a feeling of excitement or tension in this army,at least among the young officers with whom he associated most. Theyfelt that a storm of some kind was gathering, either in front or ontheir flank. McClellan's army was now on the transports, leaving behindthe Virginia that he had failed to conquer, and Pope's, with a newcommander, was not yet in shape. The moment was propitious for Lee andJackson to strike, and the elusive Jackson was lost again.
"Our scouts discover nothing," said Warner to Dick. "The country ischockfull of hostility to us. Not a soul will tell us a word. We have tosee a thing with our own eyes before we know it's there, but the people,the little children even, take news to the rebels. A veil is hung beforeus, but there is none before them."
"There is one man who is sure to find out about Jackson."
"Who?"
Dick's only answer was a shake of the head. But he was thinking ofShepard. He did not see him about the camp, and he had no doubt that hewas gone on another of his dangerous missions. Meanwhile newspapers fromNew York and other great cities reflected the doubts of the North. Theyspoke of Pope's grandiloquent dispatches, and they wondered what hadbecome of Lee and Jackson.
Dick, an intense patriot, passed many bitter moments. He, like others,felt that the hand upon the reins was not sure. Instead of finding theenemy and assailing him with all their strength, they were waiting indoubt and alarm to fend off a stroke that would come from some unknownpoint out of the dark.
The army now lay in one of the finest parts of Virginia, a region ofpicturesque mountains, wide and fertile valleys, and of many clearcreeks and rivers coming down from the peaks and ridges. To one side laya great forest, known as the Wilderness, destined, with the country nearit, to become the greatest battlefield of the world. Here, the terriblebattles of the Second Manassas, Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville,the Wilderness, Spottsylvania, and others less sanguinary, but greatstruggles, nevertheless, were to be fought.
But these were yet in the future, and Dick, much as his eyes had beenopened, did not yet dream how tremendous the epic combat was to be. Heonly knew that to-day it was the middle of August, the valleys were veryhot, but it was shady and cool on the hills and mountains. He knew, too,that he was young, and that pessimism and gloom could not abide longwith him.
He and Warner and Pennington had good horses, in place of those thatthey had lost at Cedar Run, and often they rode to the front to seewhat might be seen of the enemy, which at present was nothing. Theirbattlefield at Cedar Run had been reoccupied by Northern troops and Popewas now confirmed in his belief that his men had won a victory there.And this victory was to be merely a prelude to another and far greaterone.
As they rode here and there in search of the enemy, Dick came uponfamiliar ground. Once more he saw the field of Manassas which had beenlost so hardly the year before. He remembered every hill and brook andcurve of the little river, because they had been etched into his brainwith steel and fire. How could anyone forget that day?
"Looks as if we might fight our battle of last year over again, but on amuch bigger scale," he said to Warner.
"Here or hereabouts," said the Vermonter, "and I think we ought to win.They've got the better generals, but we've got more men. Besides, ourtroops are becoming experienced and they've shown their mettle. Dick,here's a farmer gathering corn. Let's ask him some questions, but I'llwager you a hundred to one before we begin that he knows absolutelynothing about the rebel army. In fact, I doubt that he will know of itsexistence."
"I won't take your bet," said Dick.
They called to the man, a typical Virginia farmer in his shirt sleeves,tall and spare, short whiskers growing under his chin. There was notmuch difference between him and his brother farmer in New England.
"Good-day," said Warner.
"Good-day."
"You seem to be working hard."
"I've need to do it. Farm hands are scarce these days."
"Farming is hard work."
"Yes; but it's a lot safer than some other kinds men are doin'nowadays."
"True, no doubt, but have you seen anything of the army?"
"What army?"
"The one under Lee and Jackson, the rebel army."
"I ain't heard of no rebel army, mister. I don't know of any such peopleas rebels."
"You call it the Confederate army. Can you tell us anything about theConfederate army?"
"What Confederate army, mister? I heard last month when I went in to thecourt house that there was more than one of them."
"I mean the one under Lee and Jackson."
"That's cur'us. A man come ridin' 'long here three or four weeks ago.Mebbe he was a lightnin' rod agent an' mebbe he had patent medicines tosell, he didn't say, but he did tell me that General Jackson was in oneplace an General Lee was in another. Now which army do you mean?"
"That was nearly a month ago. They are together now."
"Then, mister, if you know so much more about it than I do, what are youaskin' me questions for?"
"But I want to know about Lee and Jackson. Have you seen them?"
"Lord bless you, mister, them big generals don't come visitin' the likeso' me. You kin see my house over thar among the trees. You kin search itif you want to, but you won't find nothin'."
"I don't want to search your house. You can't hide a great army in ahouse. I want to know if you've seen the Southern Army. I want to knowif you've heard anything about it."
"I ain't seed it. My sight's none too good, mister. Sometimes theblazin' sun gits in my eyes and kinder blinds me for a long time. Then,too, I'm bad of hearin'; but I'm a powerful good sleeper. When I sleep Idon't hear nothin', of course, an' nothin' wakes me up. I just sleep on,sometimes dreamin' beautiful dreams. A million men wouldn't wake me, an'mebbe a dozen armies or so have passed in the night while I was sleepin'so good. I'd tell you anything I know, but them that knows nothin' hasnothin' to tell."
Warner's temper, although he had always practiced self-control, hadbegun to rise, but he checked it, seeing that it would be a mere foolishdisplay of weakness in the face of the blank wall that confronted him.
"My friend," he said with gravity, "I judge from the extreme ignoranceyou display concerning great affairs that you sleep a large part of thetime."
"Mebbe so, an' mebbe not. I most gen'ally sleep when I'm sleepy. I'veheard tell there was a big war goin' on in these parts, but this is myland, an' I'm goin' to stay on it."
"A good farmer, if not a good patriot. Good day."
"Good day."
They rode on and, in spite of themselves, laughed.
"I'm willing to wager that he knows a lot about Lee and Jackson," saidWarner, "but the days of the rack and the thumbscrew passed long ago,and there is no way to make him tell."
"No," said Dick, "but we ought to find out for ourselves."
Nevertheless, they discovered nothing. They saw no trace of a Southernsoldier, nor did they hear news of any, and toward nightfall they rodeback toward the army, much disappointed. The sunset was of uncommonbeauty. The hot day was growing cool. Pleasant shadows were creepingup in the east. In the west a round mountain shouldered its black bulkagainst the sky. Dick looked at it vaguely. He had heard it calledClark's Mountain, and it was about seven miles away from the Union armywhich lay behind the Rapidan River.
Dick liked mountains, and the peak looked beautiful against the red andyellow bars of the western horizon.
"Have you ever been over there?" he said to Pennington and Warner.
"No; but a lot of our scouts have," replied Pennington. "It's just amountain and nothing more. Funny how all those peaks and ridges cropup suddenly around here out of what seems meant to have been a levelcountry."
"I like it better because it isn't level," said Dick. "I'm afraid Georgeand I wouldn't care much for your prairie country which just rolls onforever, almost without trees and clear running streams."
"You
would care for it," said Pennington stoutly. "You'd miss at firstthe clear rivers and creeks, but then the spell of it would take hold ofyou. The air you breathe isn't like the air you breathe anywhere else."
"We've got some air of our own in Vermont that we could brag about, ifwe wanted to," said Warner, defiantly.
"It's good, but not as good as ours. And then the vast distances, thegreat spaces take hold of you. And there's the sky so high and so clear.When you come away from the great plains you feel cooped up anywhereelse."
Pennington spoke with enthusiasm, his nostrils dilating and his eyesflashing. Dick was impressed.
"When the war's over I'm going out there to see your plains," he said.
"Then you're coming to see me!" exclaimed Pennington, with all theimpulsive warmth of youth. "And George here is coming with you. I won'tshow you any mountains like the one over there, but boys, west of thePlatte River, when I was with my father and some other men I watched forthree days a buffalo herd passing. The herd was going north and allthe time it stretched so far from east to west that it sank under eachhorizon. There must have been millions of them. Don't you think that wassomething worth seeing?"
"We're surely coming," said Dick, "and you be equally sure to have yourbuffalo herd ready for us when we come."
"It'll be there."
"Meanwhile, here we are at the Rapidan," said the practical Warner, "andbeyond it is our army. Look at that long line of fires, boys. Aren'tthey cheering? A fine big army like ours ought to beat off anything. Wealmost held our own with Jackson himself at Cedar Run, and he had two toone."
"We will win! We're bound to win!" said Dick, with sudden access ofhope. "We'll crush Lee and Jackson, and next summer you and I, George,will be out on the western plains with Frank, watching the buffalomillions go thundering by!"
They forded the Rapidan and rejoined their regiment with nothing totell. But it was cheerful about the fires. Optimism reigned once more inthe Army of Virginia. McClellan had sent word to Pope that he would haveplenty of soldiers to face the attack that now seemed to be threatenedby the South. Brigades from the Army of the Potomac would make the Armyof Virginia invincible.
Dick having nothing particular to do, sat late with his comrades beforeone of the finest of the fires, and he read only cheerful omens in theflames. It was a beautiful night. The moon seemed large and near, andthe sky was full of dancing stars. In the clear night Dick saw the blackbulk of Clark's Mountain off there against the horizon, but he could notsee what was behind it.
The Sword of Antietam: A Story of the Nation's Crisis Page 4