The Little Regiment, and Other Episodes of the American Civil War

by Stephen Crane

  II.

  As Mary sprang backward and screamed, one of the calm men in gray, stillgrinning, announced, "I knowed you'd holler." Sitting there comfortablythe three surveyed her with amusement.

  Mary caught her breath, throwing her hand up to her throat. "Oh!" shesaid, "you--you frightened me!"

  "We're sorry, lady, but couldn't help it no way," cheerfully respondedanother. "I knowed you'd holler when I seen you coming yere, but Iraikoned we couldn't help it no way. We hain't a-troubling this yerebarn, I don't guess. We been doing some mighty tall sleeping yere. Wedone woke when them Yanks loped past."

  "Where did you come from? Did--did you escape from the--the Yankees?"The girl still stammered and trembled. The three soldiers laughed. "No,m'm. No, m'm. They never cotch us. We was in a muss down the road yereabout two mile. And Bill yere they gin it to him in the arm, kehplunk.And they pasted me thar, too. Curious. And Sim yere, he didn't getnothing, but they chased us all quite a little piece, and we done losetrack of our boys."

  "Was it--was it those who passed here just now? Did they chase you?"

  The men in gray laughed again. "What--them? No, indeedee! There was amighty big swarm of Yanks and a mighty big swarm of our boys, too.What--that little passel? No, m'm."

  She became calm enough to scan them more attentively. They were muchbegrimed and very dusty. Their gray clothes were tattered. Splashed mudhad dried upon them in reddish spots. It appeared, too, that the men hadnot shaved in many days. In the hats there was a singular diversity. Onesoldier wore the little blue cap of the Northern infantry, with corpsemblem and regimental number; one wore a great slouch hat with a widehole in the crown; and the other wore no hat at all. The left sleeve ofone man and the right sleeve of another had been slit and the arms wereneatly bandaged with clean cloth. "These hain't no more than two littlecuts," explained one. "We stopped up yere to Mis' Leavitts--she said hername was--and she bind them for us. Bill yere, he had the thirst come onhim. And the fever too. We----"

  "Did you ever see my father in the army?" asked Mary. "JohnHinckson--his name is."

  The three soldiers grinned again, but they replied kindly: "No, m'm. No,m'm, we hain't never. What is he--in the cavalry?"

  "No," said the girl. "He and my uncle Asa and my cousin--his name isBill Parker--they are all with Longstreet--they call him."

  "Oh," said the soldiers. "Longstreet? Oh, they're a good smart ways fromyere. 'Way off up nawtheast. There hain't nothing but cavalry down yere.They're in the infantry, probably."

  "We haven't heard anything from them for days and days," said Mary.

  "Oh, they're all right in the infantry," said one man, to be consoling."The infantry don't do much fighting. They go bellering out in a bigswarm and only a few of 'em get hurt. But if they was in thecavalry--the cavalry----"

  Mary interrupted him without intention. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

  The soldiers looked at each other, struck by some sudden and singularshame. They hung their heads. "No, m'm," replied one at last.

  Santo, in his stall, was tranquilly chewing and chewing. Sometimes helooked benevolently over at them. He was an old horse and there wassomething about his eyes and his forelock which created the impressionthat he wore spectacles. Mary went and patted his nose. "Well, if youare hungry, I can get you something," she told the men. "Or you mightcome to the house."

  "We wouldn't dast go to the house," said one. "That passel of Yanks wasonly a scouting crowd, most like. Just an advance. More coming, likely."

  "Well, I can bring you something," cried the girl eagerly. "Won't youlet me bring you something?"

  "Well," said a soldier with embarrassment, "we hain't had much. If youcould bring us a little snack-like--just a snack--we'd----"

  Without waiting for him to cease, the girl turned toward the door. Butbefore she had reached it she stopped abruptly. "Listen!" she whispered.Her form was bent forward, her head turned and lowered, her handextended toward the men in a command for silence.

  They could faintly hear the thudding of many hoofs, the clank of arms,and frequent calling voices.

  "By cracky, it's the Yanks!" The soldiers scrambled to their feet andcame toward the door. "I knowed that first crowd was only an advance."

  The girl and the three men peered from the shadows of the barn. The viewof the road was intersected by tree trunks and a little henhouse.However, they could see many horsemen streaming down the road. Thehorsemen were in blue. "Oh, hide--hide--hide!" cried the girl, with asob in her voice.

  "Wait a minute," whispered a gray soldier excitedly. "Maybe they'regoing along by. No, by thunder, they hain't! They're halting. Scoot,boys!"

  They made a noiseless dash into the dark end of the barn. The girl,standing by the door, heard them break forth an instant later inclamorous whispers. "Where'll we hide? Where'll we hide? There hain't aplace to hide!" The girl turned and glanced wildly about the barn. Itseemed true. The stock of hay had grown low under Santo's endlessmunching, and from occasional levyings by passing troopers in gray. Thepoles of the mow were barely covered, save in one corner where there wasa little bunch.

  The girl espied the great feed box. She ran to it and lifted the lid."Here! here!" she called. "Get in here."

  They had been tearing noiselessly around the rear part of the barn. Ather low call they came and plunged at the box. They did not all get inat the same moment without a good deal of a tangle. The wounded mengasped and muttered, but they at last were flopped down on the layer offeed which covered the bottom. Swiftly and softly the girl lowered thelid and then turned like a flash toward the door.

  No one appeared there, so she went close to survey the situation. Thetroopers had dismounted and stood in silence by their horses. Agray-bearded man, whose red cheeks and nose shone vividly above thewhiskers, was strolling about with two or three others. They woredouble-breasted coats, and faded yellow sashes were wound under theirblack leather sword belts. The gray-bearded soldier was apparentlygiving orders, pointing here and there.

  Mary tiptoed to the feed box. "They've all got off their horses," shesaid to it. A finger projected from a knothole near the top and said toher very plainly, "Come closer." She obeyed, and then a muffled voicecould be heard: "Scoot for the house, lady, and if we don't see youagain, why, much obliged for what you done."

  "Good-bye," she said to the feed box.

  She made two attempts to walk dauntlessly from the barn, but each timeshe faltered and failed just before she reached the point where shecould have been seen by the blue-coated troopers. At last, however, shemade a sort of a rush forward and went out into the bright sunshine.

  The group of men in double-breasted coats wheeled in her direction atthe instant. The gray-bearded officer forgot to lower his arm which hadbeen stretched forth in giving an order.

  She felt that her feet were touching the ground in a most unnaturalmanner. Her bearing, she believed, was suddenly grown awkward andungainly. Upon her face she thought that this sentence was plainlywritten: "There are three men hidden in the feed box."

  The gray-bearded soldier came toward her. She stopped; she seemed aboutto run away. But the soldier doffed his little blue cap and lookedamiable. "You live here, I presume?" he said.

  "Yes," she answered.

  "Well, we are obliged to camp here for the night, and as we've got twowounded men with us I don't suppose you'd mind if we put them in thebarn."

  "In--in the barn?"

  He became aware that she was agitated. He smiled assuringly. "Youneedn't be frightened. We won't hurt anything around here. You'll all besafe enough."

  The girl balanced on one foot and swung the other to and fro in thegrass. She was looking down at it. "But--but I don't think ma would likeit if--if you took the barn."

  The old officer laughed. "Wouldn't she?" said he. "That's so. Maybe shewouldn't." He reflected for a time and then decided cheerfully: "Well,we will have to go ask her, anyhow. Where is she? In the house?"

  "Yes," replied the girl, "she's in the ho
use. She--she'll be scared todeath when she sees you!"

  "Well, you go and ask her then," said the soldier, always wearing abenign smile. "You go ask her and then come and tell me."

  When the girl pushed open the door and entered the kitchen, she found itempty. "Ma!" she called softly. There was no answer. The kettle stillwas humming its low song. The knife and the curl of potato skin lay onthe floor.

  She went to her mother's room and entered timidly. The new, lonelyaspect of the house shook her nerves. Upon the bed was a confusion ofcoverings. "Ma!" called the girl, quaking in fear that her mother wasnot there to reply. But there was a sudden turmoil of the quilts, andher mother's head was thrust forth. "Mary!" she cried, in what seemed tobe a supreme astonishment, "I thought--I thought----"

  "Oh, ma," blurted the girl, "there's over a thousand Yankees in theyard, and I've hidden three of our men in the feed box!"

  The elder woman, however, upon the appearance of her daughter had begunto thrash hysterically about on the bed and wail.

  "Ma," the girl exclaimed, "and now they want to use the barn--and ourmen in the feed box! What shall I do, ma? What shall I do?"

  Her mother did not seem to hear, so absorbed was she in her grievousflounderings and tears. "Ma!" appealed the girl. "Ma!"

  For a moment Mary stood silently debating, her lips apart, her eyesfixed. Then she went to the kitchen window and peeked.

  The old officer and the others were staring up the road. She went toanother window in order to get a proper view of the road, and saw thatthey were gazing at a small body of horsemen approaching at a trot andraising much dust. Presently she recognised them as the squad that hadpassed the house earlier, for the young man with the dim yellow chevronstill rode at their head. An unarmed horseman in gray was receivingtheir close attention.

  As they came very near to the house she darted to the first windowagain. The gray-bearded officer was smiling a fine broad smile ofsatisfaction. "So you got him?" he called out. The young sergeant sprangfrom his horse and his brown hand moved in a salute. The girl could nothear his reply. She saw the unarmed horseman in gray stroking a veryblack mustache and looking about him coolly and with an interested air.He appeared so indifferent that she did not understand he was a prisoneruntil she heard the graybeard call out: "Well, put him in the barn.He'll be safe there, I guess." A party of troopers moved with theprisoner toward the barn.

  The girl made a sudden gesture of horror, remembering the three men inthe feed box.