The Lost Despatch

by Natalie Sumner Lincoln

  CHAPTER XI

  WHO LAUGHS LAST

  The trip to Winchester was uneventful. The country through which theypassed had been made desolate by the contending armies; and Nancy gazedsad-eyed at the ruined homes and wasted fields. War, grim war, haddevastated the entire valley.

  Miss Metoaca spent most of her time repairing the rents made in herwardrobe by Miss Watt and her assistant, and she ignored Lloyd'sexistence with studied insolence. Goddard tried to engage Nancy in alow-toned conversation, but she did not respond to his overtures; so,tired and worried over the whole situation, he went to the farther endof the car and found what comfort he could with a cigar.

  The station master and regular detail of soldiers were at Stephenson'sDepot when the special train reached its destination. On inquiryGoddard learned from the officer in command of the detachment that theusual escort had come from Winchester for the mail and supplies broughtby the regular train, which had arrived several hours ahead of them.

  "Captain Gurley was very much excited when the conductor told him theMisses Newton, whom he had come to meet, were detained at Harper'sFerry," continued the officer. "He had to return to Winchester. He saidhe would ride back here, or send an escort for you if he learned bywire to Harper's Ferry that the ladies would reach here to-night."

  "Is there any conveyance I can get to take these ladies over toWinchester?" inquired Goddard.

  "Ole Miss Page sent her mules an' road wagon," volunteered the stationmaster, "for them. Captain Gurley left your hoss hitched under the shedacross the street, Major, thinkin' if you came through sooner than hecould get back you'd want him. I reckon you'll find Miss Page'sworthless nigger boy asleep in the shed, too, 'cause I tole him hecouldn't loaf 'round here."

  "I will stay with the ladies, Bob," said Lloyd. "You and Symonds go foryour horse and the mules."

  Goddard turned over an empty crate. "Better sit on this, Miss Metoaca,"he advised, noting the lines of fatigue in the spinster's haggard face."There is room for you, too, Miss Nancy. Symonds, come with me," andthe two men hastened across the road to the tumbled down shed.

  Goddard's mare, Brown Betty, welcomed him with a whinny of delight, andhe stopped a moment to caress her. The mules, harnessed to an opentwo-seated wagon, were hitched beside his horse, but there was no signof the negro driver.

  "You will have to drive them, Symonds," said Goddard, pulling theblanket off his mare, and tightening the saddle girths. "Here,Sergeant," as that worthy approached, "help back these mules out intothe street."

  It took some moments to induce the mules to move at all, but by dint ofmuch whipping and shouting the animals were finally made to mind. Onceout of the shed, Symonds had no difficulty in driving up to the depot,where Goddard soon joined him, leading his horse.

  "The darky has disappeared," he explained briefly to Miss Metoaca, ashe helped her and Nancy into the back seat and covered them with thewarm laprobes that were in the bottom of the wagon.

  "Captain Lloyd," Miss Metoaca leaned forward with the inborn breedinginherited from generations of gentle blood, "you appear to have no wayof reaching Winchester except by foot. May I offer you the fourth seatin this wagon?"

  Lloyd colored as he raised his hat. "Thank you, madam." He caughtNancy's mocking smile, and murmured: "Is it to be an armed truce?"

  "Why look on me as an enemy?" she retorted calmly.

  Without answering, Lloyd seated himself by Symonds, and they startedslowly off. Goddard stayed a moment to exchange a few more words withthe officer stationed at the depot, then put spurs to his mare, andsoon overtook the rest of his party.

  The winter day was drawing to a close, and dusk was falling as theyleft the last cluster of houses behind them. The mules were old andpoorly fed. It was impossible to get them to move faster than ajog-trot. They had gone some distance when Goddard saw a smalldetachment of cavalry approaching, leisurely walking their horses alongthe road from Winchester. Their blue uniforms reassured him, and herode forward to meet the sergeant, and recognized on nearer view theinsignia of his corps on the latter's uniform.

  "Did Captain Gurley send you to escort these ladies?" he asked, as thesergeant spurred up and saluted.

  "Yes, Major."

  Goddard turned and beckoned to Symonds, who had stopped some yards inthe rear. "What do you mean by letting your men straggle so along theroad?" he demanded sharply. "Have them close up."

  The sergeant again saluted, and wheeled his horse just behindGoddard's. "Close up, men!" he ordered. "Close up!"

  Obediently the cavalrymen trotted to their places on either side of thewagon, and Symonds urged his mules to their utmost speed to keep upwith the escort.

  "How far are we from Winchester, Bob?" called Lloyd.

  "About...." Goddard's words died in his throat as a strong hand seizedhis bridle rein, and he looked into the barrel of the sergeant's armyrevolver. Swiftly his right hand sought his own revolver, and he firedfrom his hip, but the sudden rearing of his startled mare spoiled hisaim. The next instant his weapon was wrenched from him by a trooper whohad dashed to the sergeant's assistance, and his arms were pinionedbehind his back. At the same moment Lloyd and Symonds were covered bythe revolvers of the cavalrymen on either side of the wagon.

  "Resistance is useless," called the sergeant. "Stop those mules!"

  His orders were instantly obeyed. Lloyd, realizing that he washelpless, sank back into his seat.

  "Who the ---- are you?" roared Goddard, as the men, with no gentlehand, searched him for other weapons.

  "Willard Tucker, Captain, C.S.A., now serving with Colonel Mosby," wasthe quiet reply. "We were reconnoitring when we met your party, Major,and you obligingly asked us to 'close up.'"

  Goddard inwardly cursed his own stupidity. He remembered, too late,that it was a favorite trick of Mosby's guerillas to disguisethemselves in Federal uniforms and raid the mail and supply trains.

  "Where are you taking us?" he inquired as, obedient to an order fromCaptain Tucker, the squad wheeled to the left at the fork of the roads.

  "To Mosby," was the brief response. "Your name and regiment, and thenames of your companions, Major?"

  Goddard quickly supplied the desired information, and Tucker rode up tothe wagon. "I am sorry to inconvenience you, ladies," he said, "but Imust take you with me to headquarters."

  Miss Metoaca and Nancy had sat spellbound watching Goddard's capturewith startled eyes.

  "Very well," said Miss Metoaca, with resignation, drawing a longbreath. "Apparently it is as difficult for me to get to Winchester asit is for our troops to enter Richmond."

  Tucker laughed as he leaned forward and addressed Symonds.

  "If you try to drive anywhere but in the direction I tell you you willbe instantly shot; and you, too, Captain Lloyd," he added sternly.

  Symonds nodded glumly. Both he and Lloyd had been searched and theirrevolvers taken from them. Escape just then appeared to be out of thequestion. They were but three men against twenty guerillas. It wasimpossible to make the old mules go faster than a jog-trot; while therebels were well mounted. Goddard, with his arms bound behind him, rodewith a trooper on either side, each holding one of his reins.

  After about an hour's ride over a rough road, that was really nothingmore than a cow path, they turned to the east until they reached acreek.

  Tucker shouted an order to his men, then turned to Miss Metoaca.

  "We will bivouac in the woods yonder, near this ford," he saidcourteously. "It is impossible for us to reach Mosby to-night."

  The rough and ready camp was soon organized, and a special shelter wasarranged for Miss Metoaca and Nancy on the extreme left of the campfire. They had watched the preparations with interest and, glad of thewarmth of the fire, sat as near it as they conveniently could while ahasty meal was being cooked.

  From the first moment of their capture Lloyd had watched Nancy like alynx. Not a movement of her hands had escaped him. Had she plannedtheir capture? If so, she would be sure to betray herself by som
e overtact or word. What treatment would Tucker accord her? Would he considerher a prisoner of war, or--a friend? They had met as strangers. Lloydgave his parole so that he might keep Nancy under constantsurveillance.

  While these thoughts were occupying Lloyd Goddard was busy puzzling hisbrain for a way to escape. He might chance a dash for the open lateron. Brown Betty was picketed near him, but there were Miss Metoaca andNancy to be considered. He could not desert them. No plan seemedfeasible; he would have to bide his time, and see what the fortunes ofwar would bring forth. He had just reached this conclusion when CaptainTucker approached him.

  "If you will give me your parole not to attempt escape," he said, "Iwill have your arms freed."

  Goddard thought quickly. "I promise--until to-morrow morning," heagreed reluctantly.

  Tucker called one of the guerillas, and with his assistance releasedGoddard, who rubbed his stiff arms until the blood again circulatedfreely.

  "Come over by the fire and have some supper," suggested the rebelcaptain, and with a muttered word of thanks Goddard hastened to joinhis friends. Nancy made room for him beside her.

  "Don't be so down-hearted," she whispered, handing him a piece ofcorn-pone. "Our fate might be worse. I feel sure we will escapesomehow."

  "You are a brave girl to take it that way," he answered, and his eyeskindled with admiration. "I wonder how many men would have gone throughthis morning's humiliating experience and to-night's capture with suchpluck."

  Nancy laughed softly. "It is well you judge me from the exterior. Iassure you I am 'all av a trimble,' and my heart quakes with fear ofwhat the future may have in store for me," and she glanced anxiously atthe rough men about her.

  "Miss Newton, won't you sing for us?" called Captain Tucker across thecamp fire. "It is not often we capture ladies, and I am longing for thesound of a woman's voice."

  "Do," pleaded Goddard, low in Nancy's ear.

  She hesitated before answering; then: "Certainly, Captain Tucker,provided you will sing first."

  "Agreed." Tucker cleared his throat, thought a moment, then began:

  'Tis years since last we met, And we may not meet again, I have struggled to forget, But the struggle was in vain. For her voice lives on the breeze, And her spirit comes at will; In the midnight, on the seas, Her bright smile haunts me still!

  Dropping their various occupations the guerillas drew in about the campfire as the familiar words of the famous rebel song reached them. Fewjoined in the chorus; they were busy thinking of their sweethearts andwives far away. Tucker glanced appealingly at Nancy as he began thenext verse, but her face was averted.

  I have sailed 'neath alien skies, I have trod the desert path, I have seen the storm arise Like a giant in his wrath; Every danger I have known, That a reckless life can fill; Yet her presence has not flown, Her bright smile haunts me still!

  A round of applause rang out as Tucker's rich tenor voice ceased.

  "Be quiet, you fellows," he directed. "Now, Miss Newton, I hold you toyour promise."

  Nancy looked about her. The fire had not been replenished, and thedarkness was creeping in. It was difficult to clearly distinguish eachman's face by the flickering light from the hot embers, but Goddard'sexpression caught her attention. Her woman's intuition read, and readaright, what he but dimly realized.

  A burning blush dyed Nancy's pale cheeks, and for a moment her heartbeat more rapidly; then sank. She was a rebel--a spy; he a--ah, nothated--Yankee--a gallant, _honorable_ foe. She must not encouragehim. That should not be charged against her when the reckoning came.The old words, "he who breaks--pays," recurred to her. Let hers be thepain, not his. She forgot "My Old Kentucky Home," instead came thewords:

  Take back the heart that thou gavest, What is my anguish to thee? Take back the freedom thou cravest, Leaving the fetters to me. Take back the vows thou hast spoken, Fling them aside and be free.

  Her eyes caught and held Goddard's. Would he understand?

  Smile o'er each pitiful token, Leaving the sorrow for me; Drink deep of life's fond illusion, Gaze on the storm-cloud and flee Swiftly, through strife and confusion, Leaving the burden to me.

  Not a man stirred as her glorious voice died away. Goddard's eyes fell,and he prodded the ground viciously with nervous fingers. His mouth wasset in stubborn lines. No one spoke. Goddard roused himself. One quickcompelling look at Nancy and his fine baritone voice took up the songshe had left unfinished:

  Then when at last, overtaken, Time flings its fetters o'er thee, Come, with a trust still unshaken, Come back a captive to me. Come back in sadness or sorrow, Once more my darling to be.

  Come as of old, love, to borrow Glimpses of sunlight from me. Love shall resume her dominion, Striving no more to be free, When on her world-weary pinion, Flies back my lost love to me.

  "Good, Major, good," exclaimed Tucker heartily, as the applause rangout. "Do sing again, Miss Newton?"

  Miss Metoaca answered for Nancy. "Not to-night, Captain Tucker. We havehad a trying day and are completely worn out. With your permission wewill go to our tent."

  "Of course, Miss Newton," exclaimed Tucker, springing to his feet. "Youand your niece are at liberty to walk about the camp, provided you donot approach the picket line."

  "Thanks," Miss Metoaca's tone was dry. "Coming, Nancy? Good night,gentlemen," and she stalked to her temporary shelter with as muchdignity as the uneven ground permitted.

  Nancy rose, bade Tucker a courteous good night and, accompanied byGoddard, followed her aunt.

  "Good night, Major," she said, and turned to enter the canvas shelter.

  Goddard took her half extended hand in both of his.

  "One moment," he implored, in so low a tone that she barely heard thewords. "Did you intend that song to have an especial meaning for me?_Did you?_"

  Nancy simply bowed her head in an affirmative.

  Goddard drew a deep breath. His eyes scanned her face yearningly.

  "No man or circumstance shall part us," he said grimly.

  "You forget, sir, that it is my privilege to choose my friends andacquaintances."

  The accent on the last word was unmistakable. Goddard paled under histan.

  "Do you dislike me?" he demanded.

  "Yes."

  Goddard could not see the effort the monosyllable cost her. In bitterdisappointment he dropped her hand. As Nancy turned abruptly away shetripped over the root of a tree. Instantly Goddard caught and steadiedher. Her soft hair brushed his cheek ... one breathless moment ... heclasped her in his arms and showered kisses on the face pressed againsthis shoulder. Desperately Nancy wrenched herself free and disappearedinside the tent. With shining eyes and bounding pulse he rejoinedTucker and Lloyd by the camp fire.

  Some hours later Goddard awoke from an uneasy sleep. At first,bewildered by his surroundings, he lay without moving; then graduallythe occurrences of that day recurred to him. His thoughts flew toNancy, and raising himself on his elbow, he glanced in the direction ofher improvised shelter some distance to his left.

  In the stillness the snores of the sleeping men sounded clearly; surelyit had not been that which had awakened him? As his eyes grewaccustomed to the darkness he saw dimly the outlines of a man's figureapproach Nancy's tent and disappear behind it. He was wide awake on theinstant. Some midnight marauder was trying to enter her tent. Thepickets were far away. Captain Tucker, knowing they were within theConfederate lines, had relaxed his vigilance, and the camp was butlightly guarded.

  Goddard wasted no time in idle speculation. He slid out of his blanket;then softly, very softly, crouching behind each bush he stole towardthe tent. Then cautiously, on hands and knees, he crept around it. Hewas about to rise when fingers closed over his throat, and a heavy bodyfell upon him. Silently the two men struggled in the little clearing.Goddard's eyes were starting from his head as the pressure tightened o
nhis windpipe. His breath came in panting gasps. With strength born ofdesperation he tore the gripping hands away, and the fresh air rushedinto his stifled lungs.

  "Lloyd! Lloyd! Help!" he gasped. His weak voice did not carry far; butthe figure above him stiffened.

  "My God! Is it you, Bob?" whispered Lloyd. "We have been fighting eachother." He slid off Goddard's body, and assisted him to sit up.

  "What--what--in blazes did you jump on me for?" demanded Goddard, in ahoarse whisper, tenderly feeling his aching throat.

  "I did not know it was you, Bob. I have been dozing off and on; andsuddenly heard a faint noise in this direction. Thinking it might beTucker trying to communicate unseen with Miss Newton, I stole overhere. When you came creeping around the corner there I sprang on you."

  "Have you still got that bee in your bonnet?" whispered Goddardscornfully. "When will your persecution of that girl cease? Your searchthis morning proved she hadn't any despatch. Besides, you did notactually see her pick up that said despatch in Gautier's; you simplyjumped to that conclusion because the despatch was not on the floorwhen you reached their table. Any one might have picked it up. Now, weboth have proof that she has not communicated with Tucker. We mistookeach other for him, that is all. Let's go back to our blankets." Hisadvice was good, and Lloyd followed it.

  Inside the tent, a girl, sad at heart, crouched against the canvas; herfingers felt around the _empty_ hole in one of her pear-shapedearrings. As she deftly fitted the two halves together into one pendantshe crooned softly:

  Better the fire upon thee roll, Better the blade, the shot, the bowl, Than crucifixion of the soul, Maryland! My Maryland!