by John Fox
CHAPTER 23.
CHAD CAPTURES AN OLD FRIEND
Meanwhile Morgan was coming on--led by the two videttes in gray--DanielDean and Rebel Jerry Dillon--coming on to meet Kirby Smith in Lexingtonafter that general had led the Bluegrass into the Confederate fold.They were taking short cuts through the hills now, and Rebel Jerry wasguide, for he had joined Morgan for that purpose. Jerry had long beennotorious along the border. He never gave quarter on his expeditionsfor personal vengeance, and it was said that not even he knew how manymen he had killed. Every Morgan's man had heard of him, and was anxiousto see him; and see him they did, though they never heard him open hislips except in answer to a question. To Dan he seemed to take a strangefancy right away, but he was as voiceless as the grave, except for anoccasional oath, when bush-whackers of Daws Dillon's ilk would pop atthe advance guard--sometimes from a rock directly overhead, for chasewas useless. It took a roundabout climb of one hundred yards to get tothe top of that rock, so there was nothing for videttes and guards todo but pop back, which they did to no purpose. On the third day,however, after a skirmish in which Dan had charged with a little moredare-deviltry than usual, the big Dillon ripped out an oath of protest.An hour later he spoke again:
"I got a brother on t'other side."
Dan started. "Why, so have I," he said. "What's your brother with?"
"Wolford's cavalry."
"That's curious. So was mine--for a while. He's with Grant now." Theboy turned his head away suddenly.
"I might meet him, if he were with Wolford now," he said, half tohimself, but Jerry heard him and smiled viciously.
"Well, that's what I'm goin' with you fellers fer--to meet mine."
"What!" said Dan, puzzled.
"We've been lookin' fer each other sence the war broke out. I reckon hewent on t'other side to keep me from killin' him."
Dan shrank away from the giant with horror; but next day themountaineer saved the boy's life in a fight in which Dan'schum--gallant little Tom Morgan--lost his; and that night, as Dan laysleepless and crying in his blanket, Jerry Dillon came in fromguard-duty and lay down by him.
"I'm goin' to take keer o' you."
"I don't need you," said Dan, gruffly, and Rebel Jerry grunted, turnedover on his side and went to sleep. Night and day thereafter he was bythe boy's side.
A thrill ran through the entire command when the column struck thefirst Bluegrass turnpike, and a cheer rang from front to rear. NearMidway, a little Bluegrass town some fifteen miles from Lexington, ahalt was called, and another deafening cheer arose in the extreme rearand came forward like a rushing wind, as a coal-black horse gallopedthe length of the column--its rider, hat in hand, bowing with a proudsmile to the flattering storm--for the idolatry of the man and his menwas mutual--with the erect grace of an Indian, the air of a courtier,and the bearing of a soldier in every line of the six feet and more ofhis tireless frame. No man who ever saw John Morgan on horseback buthad the picture stamped forever on his brain, as no man who ever sawthat coal-black horse ever forgot Black Bess. Behind him came hisstaff, and behind them came a wizened little man, whose nickname was"Lightning"--telegraph operator for Morgan's Men. There was need ofLightning now, so Morgan sent him on into town with Dan and JerryDillon, while he and Richard Hunt followed leisurely.
The three troopers found the station operator seated on theplatform--pipe in mouth, and enjoying himself hugely. He looked lazilyat them.
"Call up Lexington," said Lightning, sharply.
"Go to hell!" said the operator, and then he nearly toppled from hischair. Lightning, with a vicious gesture, had swung a pistol on him.
"Here--here!" he gasped, "what'd you mean?"
"Call up Lexington," repeated Lightning. The operator seated himself.
"What do you want in Lexington?" he growled.
"Ask the time of day?" The operator stared, but the instrument clicked.
"What's your name?" asked Lightning.
"Woolums."
"Well, Woolums, you're a 'plug.' I wanted to see how you handled thekey. Yes, Woolums, you're a plug."
Then Lightning seated himself, and Woolums' mouth flew open--Lightningcopied his style with such exactness. Again the instrument clicked andLightning listened, smiling:
"Will there be any danger coming to Midway?" asked a railroad conductorin Lexington. Lightning answered, grinning:
"None. Come right on. No sign of rebels here." Again a click fromLexington.
"General Ward orders General Finnell of Frankfort to move his forces.General Ward will move toward Georgetown, to which Morgan with eighteenhundred men is marching."
Lightning caught his breath--this was Morgan's force and his intentionexactly. He answered:
"Morgan with upward of two thousand men has taken the road toFrankfort. This is reliable." Ten minutes later, Lightning chuckled.
"Ward orders Finnell to recall his regiment to Frankfort."
Half an hour later another idea struck Lightning. He clicked as thoughtelegraphing from Frankfort:
"Our pickets just driven in. Great excitement. Force of enemy must betwo thousand."
Then Lightning laughed. "I've fooled 'em," said Lightning.
There was turmoil in Lexington. The streets thundered with the tramp ofcavalry going to catch Morgan. Daylight came and nothing wasdone--nothing known. The afternoon waned, and still Ward fretted athead-quarters, while his impatient staff sat on the piazza talking,speculating, wondering where the wily raider was. Leaning on thecampus-fence near by were Chadwick Buford and Harry Dean.
It had been a sad day for those two. The mutual tolerance thatprevailed among their friends in the beginning of the war had given wayto intense bitterness now. There was no thrill for them in the flagsfluttering a welcome to them from the windows of loyalists, for underthose flags old friends passed them in the street with no sign ofrecognition, but a sullen, averted face, or a stare of open contempt.Elizabeth Morgan had met them, and turned her head when Harry raisedhis cap, though Chad saw tears spring to her eyes as she passed. Sad asit was for him, Chad knew what the silent torture in Harry's heart mustbe, for Harry could not bring himself, that day, even to visit his ownhome. And now Morgan was coming, and they might soon be in adeath-fight, Harry with his own blood-brother and both with boyhoodfriends.
"God grant that you two may never meet!"
That cry from General Dean was beating ceaselessly through Harry'sbrain now, and he brought one hand down on the fence, hardly noticingthe drop of blood that oozed from the force of the blow.
"Oh, I wish I could get away from here!"
"I shall the first chance that comes," said Chad, and he lifted hishead sharply, staring down the street. A phaeton was coming slowlytoward them and in it were a negro servant and a girl in white. Harrywas leaning over the fence with his back toward the street, and Chad,the blood rushing to his face, looked in silence, for the negro wasSnowball and the girl was Margaret. He saw her start and flush when shesaw him, her hands giving a little convulsive clutch at the reins; butshe came on, looking straight ahead. Chad's hand went unconsciously tohis cap, and when Harry rose, puzzled to see him bareheaded, thephaeton stopped, and there was a half-broken cry:
"Harry!"
Cap still in hand, Chad strode away as the brother, with an answeringcry, sprang toward her.
. . . . .
When he came back, an hour later, at dusk, Harry was seated on theportico, and the long silence between them was broken at last.
"She--they oughtn't to come to town at a time like this," said Chad,roughly.
"I told her that," said Harry, "but it was useless. She will come andgo just as she pleases."
Harry rose and leaned for a moment against one of the big pillars, andthen he turned impulsively, and put one hand lightly on the other'sshoulder.
"I'm sorry, old man," he said, gently.
A pair of heels clicked suddenly together on the grass before them, andan orderly stood at salute.
"General Ward's co
mpliments, and will Lieutenant Buford and LieutenantDean report to him at once?"
The two exchanged a swift glance, and the faces of both grew grave withsudden apprehension.
Inside, the General looked worried, and his manner was rather sharp.
"Do you know General Dean?" he asked, looking at Harry.
"He is my father."
The General wheeled in his chair.
"What!" he exclaimed. "Well--um--I suppose one of you will be enough.You can go."
When the door closed behind Harry, he looked at Chad.
"There are two rebels at General Dean's house to-night," he said,quietly. "One of them, I am told---why, he must be that boy's brother,"and again the General mused; then he added, sharply:
"Take six good men out there right away and capture them. And watch outfor Daws Dillon and his band of cut-throats. I am told he is in thisregion. I've sent a company after him. But you capture the two atGeneral Dean's."
"Yes, sir," said Chad, turning quickly, but the General had seen thelad's face grow pale.
"It is very strange down here--they may be his best friends," hethought, and, being a kindhearted man, he reached out his hand toward abell to summon Chad back, and drew it in again.
"I cannot help that; but that boy must have good stuff in him."
Harry was waiting for him outside. He knew that Dan would go home if itwas possible, and what Chad's mission must be.
"Don't hurt him, Chad."
"You don't have to ask that," answered Chad, sadly.
. . . . .
So Chad's old enemy, Daws Dillon, was abroad. There was a big man withthe boy at the Deans', General Ward had said, but Chad little guessedthat it was another old acquaintance, Rebel Jerry Dillon, who, at thathour, was having his supper brought out to the stable to him, sayingthat he would sleep there, take care of the horses, and keep on thelook-out for Yankees. Jerome Conners's hand must be in this, Chadthought, for he never for a moment doubted that the overseer hadbrought the news to General Ward. He was playing a fine game of loyaltyto both sides, that overseer, and Chad grimly made up his mind that,from one side or the other, his day would come. And this was thefortune of war--to be trotting, at the head of six men, on such amission, along a road that, at every turn, on every little hill, andalmost in every fence-corner, was stored with happy memories for him;to force entrance as an enemy under a roof that had showered courtesyand kindness down on him like rain, that in all the world was mostsacred to him; to bring death to an old playmate, the brother of thewoman whom he loved, or capture, which might mean a worse death in aloathsome prison. He thought of that dawn when he drove home after thedance at the Hunts' with the old Major asleep at his side and his heartalmost bursting with high hope and happiness, and he ran his hand overhis eyes to brush the memory away. He must think only of his duty now,and that duty was plain.
Across the fields they went in a noiseless walk, and leaving theirhorses in the woods, under the care of one soldier, slipped into theyard. Two men were posted at the rear of the house, one was stationedat each end of the long porch to command the windows on either side,and, with a sergeant at his elbow, Chad climbed the long stepsnoiselessly and knocked at the front door. In a moment it was thrownopen by a woman, and the light fell full in Chad's face.
"You--you--YOU!" said a voice that shook with mingled terror andcontempt, and Margaret shrank back, step by step. Hearing her, Mrs.Dean hurried into the hallway. Her face paled when she saw the Federaluniform in her doorway, but her chin rose haughtily, and her voice wassteady and most courteous:
"What can we do for you?" she asked, and she, too, recognized Chad, andher face grew stern as she waited for him to answer.
"Mrs. Dean," he said, half choking, "word has come to head-quartersthat two Confederate soldiers are spending the night here, and I havebeen ordered to search the house for them. My men have surrounded it,but if you will give me your word that they are not here, not a manshall cross your threshold--not even myself."
Without a word Mrs. Dean stood aside.
"I am sorry," said Chad, motioning to the Sergeant to follow him. As hepassed the door of the drawing-room, he saw, under the lamp, a pipewith ashes strewn about its bowl. Chad pointed to it.
"Spare me, Mrs. Dean." But the two women stood with clinched hands,silent. Dan had flashed into the kitchen, and was about to leap fromthe window when he saw the gleam of a rifle-barrel, not ten feet away.He would be potted like a rat if he sprang out there, and he dashednoiselessly up the back stairs, as Chad started up the front stairwaytoward the garret, where he had passed many a happy hour playing withMargaret and Harry and the boy whom he was after as an enemy, now. Thedoor was open at the first landing, and the creak of the stairs underDan's feet, heard plainly, stopped. The Sergeant, pistol in hand,started to push past his superior.
"Keep back," said Chad, sternly, and as he drew his pistol, a terrifiedwhisper rose from below.
"Don't, don't!" And then Dan, with hands up, stepped into sight.
"I'll spare you," he said, quietly. "Not a word, mother. They've gotme. You can tell him there is no one else in the house, though."
Mrs. Dean's eyes filled with tears, and a sob broke from Margaret.
"There is no one else," she said, and Chad bowed. "In the house," sheadded, proudly, scorning the subterfuge.
"Search the barn," said Chad, "quick!" The Sergeant ran down the steps.
"I reckon you are a little too late, my friend," said Dan. "Why, blessme, it's my old friend Chad--and a lieutenant! I congratulate you," headded, but he did not offer to shake hands.
Chad had thought of the barn too late. Snowball had seen the mencreeping through the yard, had warned Jerry Dillon, and Jerry hadslipped the horses into the woodland, and had crept back to learn whatwas going on.
"I will wait for you out here," said Chad. "Take your time."
"Thank you," said Dan.
He came out in a moment and Mrs. Dean and Margaret followed him. At agesture from the Sergeant, a soldier stationed himself on each side ofDan, and, as Chad turned, he took off his cap again. His face was verypale and his voice almost broke:
"You will believe, Mrs. Dean," he said, "that this was something I HADto do."
Mrs. Dean bent her head slightly.
"Certainly, mother," said Dan. "Don't blame Lieutenant Chad. Morganwill have Lexington in a few days and then I'll be free again. MaybeI'll have Lieutenant Chad a prisoner--no telling!"
Chad smiled faintly, and then, with a flush, he spoke again--warningMrs. Dean, in the kindliest way, that, henceforth, her house would beunder suspicion, and telling her of the severe measures that had beeninaugurated against rebel sympathizers.
"Such sympathizers have to take oath of allegiance and give bonds tokeep it."
"If they don't?"
"Arrest and imprisonment."
"And if they give the oath and violate it?"
"The penalty is death, Mrs. Dean."
"And if they aid their friends?"
"They are to be dealt with according to military law."
"Anything else?"
"If loyal citizens are hurt or damaged by guerrillas, disloyal citizensof the locality must make compensation."
"Is it true that a Confederate sympathizer will be shot down if on thestreets of Lexington?"
"There was such an order, Mrs. Dean."
"And if a loyal citizen is killed by one of these so-called guerillas,for whose acts nobody is responsible, prisoners of war are to be shotin retaliation?"
"Mother!" cried Margaret.
"No, Mrs. Dean--not prisoners of war--guerillas."
"And when will you begin war on women?"
"Never, I hope." His hesitancy brought a scorn into the searching eyesof his pale questioner that Chad could not face, and without daringeven to look at Margaret he turned away.
Such retaliatory measures made startling news to Dan. He grew verygrave while he listened, but as he followed Chad he chatted and laughedand joked with his
captors. Morgan would have Lexington in three days.He was really glad to get a chance to fill his belly with Yankee grub.It hadn't been full more than two or three times in six months.
All the time he was watching for Jerry Dillon, who, he knew, would notleave him if there was the least chance of getting him out of theYankee's clutches. He did not have to wait long. Two men had gone toget the horses, and as Dan stepped through the yard-gate with hiscaptors, two figures rose out of the ground. One came with head bentlike a battering-ram. He heard Snowball's head strike a stomach on oneside of him, and with an astonished groan the man went down. He saw theman on his other side drop from some crashing blow, and he saw Chadtrying to draw his pistol. His own fist shot out, catching Chad on thepoint of the chin. At the same instant there was a shot and theSergeant dropped.
"Come on, boy!" said a hoarse voice, and then he was speeding awayafter the gigantic figure of Jerry Dillon through the thick darkness,while a harmless volley of shots sped after them. At the edge of thewoods they dropped. Jerry Dillon had his hand over his mouth to keepfrom laughing aloud.
"The hosses ain't fer away," he said. "Oh, Lawd!"
"Did you kill him?"
"I reckon not," whispered Jerry. "I shot him on the wrong side. I'mal'ays a-fergettin' which side a man's heart's on."
"What became of Snowball?"
"He run jes' as soon as he butted the feller on his right. He said he'dgit one, but I didn't know what he was doin' when I seed him start likea sheep. Listen!"
There was a tumult at the house--moving lights, excited cries, and agreat hurrying. Black Rufus was the first to appear with a lantern, andwhen he held it high as the fence, Chad saw Margaret in the light, herhands clinched and her eyes burning.
"Have you killed him?" she asked, quietly but fiercely. "You nearly didonce before. Have you succeeded this time?" Then she saw the Sergeantwrithing on the ground, his right forearm hugging his breast, and herhands relaxed and her face changed.
"Did Dan do that? Did Dan do that?"
"Dan was unarmed," said Chad, quietly.
"Mother," called the girl, as though she had not heard him, "sendsomeone to help. Bring him to the house," she added, turning. As nomovement was made, she turned again.
"Bring him up to the house," she said, imperiously, and when thehesitating soldiers stooped to pick up the wounded man, she saw thestreak of blood running down Chad's chin and she stared open-eyed. Shemade one step toward him, and then she shrank back out of the light.
"Oh!" she said. "Are you wounded, too? Oh!"
"No!" said Chad, grimly. "Dan didn't do that"--pointing to theSergeant--"he did this--with his fist. It's the second time Dan hasdone this. Easy, men," he added, with low-voiced authority.
Mrs. Dean was holding the door open.
"No," said Chad, quickly. "That wicker lounge will do. He will becooler on the porch." Then he stooped, and loosening the Sergeant'sblouse and shirt examined the wound.
"It's only through the shoulder, Lieutenant," said the man, faintly.But it was under the shoulder, and Chad turned.
"Jake," he said, sharply, "go back and bring a surgeon--and an officerto relieve me. I think he can be moved in the morning, Mrs. Dean. Withyour permission I will wait here until the Surgeon comes. Please don'tdisturb yourself further"--Margaret had appeared at the door, with somebandages that she and her mother had been making for Confederates andbehind her a servant followed with towels and a pail of water--"I amsorry to trespass."
"Did the bullet pass through?" asked Mrs. Dean, simply.
"No, Mrs. Dean," said Chad.
Margaret turned indoors. Without another word, her mother knelt abovethe wounded man, cut the shirt away, staunched the trickling blood, anddeftly bound the wound with lint and bandages, while Chad stood,helplessly watching her.
"I am sorry," he said again, when she rose, "sorry--"
"It is nothing," said Mrs. Dean, quietly. "If you need anything, youwill let me know. I shall be waiting inside."
She turned and a few moments later Chad saw Margaret's white figureswiftly climb the stairs--but the light still burned in the noiselessroom below.
. . . . .
Meanwhile Dan and Jerry Dillon were far across the fields on their wayto rejoin Morgan. When they were ten miles away, Dan, who was leading,turned.
"Jerry, that Lieutenant was an old friend of mine. General Morgan usedto say he was the best scout in the Union Army. He comes from your partof the country, and his name is Chad Buford. Ever heard of him?"
"I've knowed him sence he was a chunk of a boy, but I don't rickollectever hearin' his last name afore. I naver knowed he had any."
"Well, I heard him call one of his men Jake--and he looked exactly likeyou." The giant pulled in his horse.
"I'm goin' back."
"No, you aren't," said Dan; "not now--it's too late. That's why Ididn't tell you before." Then he added, angrily: "You are a savage andyou ought to be ashamed of yourself harboring such hatred against yourown blood-brother."
Dan was perhaps the only one of Morgan's Men who would have dared totalk that way to the man, and Jerry Dillon took it only in sullensilence.
A mile farther they struck a pike, and, as they swept along, abrilliant light glared into the sky ahead of them, and they pulled in.A house was in flames on the edge of a woodland, and by its light theycould see a body of men dash out of the woods and across the field onhorseback, and another body dash after them in pursuit--the pursuersfiring and the pursued sending back defiant yells. Daws Dillon was athis work again, and the Yankees were after him.
. . . . .
Long after midnight Chad reported the loss of his prisoner. He was muchchagrined--for failure was rare with him--and his jaw and teeth achedfrom the blow Dan had given him, but in his heart he was glad that theboy had got away When he went to his tent, Harry was awake and waitingfor him.
"It's I who have escaped," he said; "escaped again. Four times now wehave been in the same fight. Somehow fate seems to be pointing alwaysone way--always one way. Why, night after night, I dream that either heor I--" Harry's voice trembled--he stopped short, and, leaning forward,stared out the door of his tent. A group of figures had halted in frontof the Colonel's tent opposite, and a voice called, sharply:
"Two prisoners, sir. We captured 'em with Daws Dillon. They areguerillas, sir."
"It's a lie, Colonel," said an easy voice, that brought both Chad andHarry to their feet, and plain in the moonlight both saw Daniel Dean,pale but cool, and near him, Rebel Jerry Dillon--both with their handsbound behind them.