It was plain that pretty soon the word began to get round that me and Marse Robert had arrived at this here battle. You see, Tom, when Marse Robert was running a battle, there was always horsemen coming and going to tell him what was happening and take his orders. I'd come to know a lot of the courier horses by now and mostly they came from Jine-the-Cavalry. Not this afternoon, though. These was Red Shirt's officers. Jine-the-Cavalry's outfit 'peared to have vanished off the face of the earth.
To begin with, 'far as I could make out, the Blue men was hard at it getting back out of our way; anyhow, their guns warn't firing like they'd been when Marse Robert and me first heared them up the mountain. But then they suddenly started up again, way over beyond the outskirts of the town, and a few minutes later one of Red Shirt's commanders come galloping up to Marse Robert. I knowed his horse, a chestnut called Trumpeter, so I asked him what was a-going on.
"We've got them beat all to a frazzle," says Trumpeter. "They've all run away into the town back there, but we're fixing to take that, too."
"Then what are their guns firing for," I asked, "over there on the sunset side?"
"It's the Bald General's fellas coming up," says Trumpeter. "They'll roll the Blue men up, after the licking they've jest had from us."
I could tell that Marse Robert had told Trumpeter's man to go back and order his 'uns to attack. Oh, Tom, you should 'a heared that Yell as they went forward! Marse Robert and me, we went forward jest behind them, and in less than an hour 'twas all over. We'd driven those people right out of the town and cut them up real bad. I remember how Marse Robert rode me downhill, over the creek at the bottom and up onto the ridge t'other side. We could see the town plain now, about half a mile below us, with two hills beyond it. The Blue men was all a-running off towards the hills--masses of 'em. Anyone could see they was licked, but there was still a few more up atop them hills.
Jest as I was wondering what we'd be doing next, up comes Old Pete on Hero. Old Pete took a long look at the town and the Blue men near the hills, and then he began talking almost afore Marse Robert had said a word. 'Course, I couldn't understand what he was saying to Marse Robert, but what I did know, Tom--and no horse could have mistaken this--was that he was laying down the law and more or less telling Marse Robert jest what he ought to do. He was saying what orders Marse Robert had best be giving and where our fellas had to go.
Marse Robert listened quietly--well, you know, Tom; you know yourself Marse Robert seldom lets anything upset him--and after a little he jest said something like if'n the Blue men was there, then we must attack them. But this didn't seem to suit Old Pete. He broke in and said a whole lot more, and I knowed Marse Robert was beginning to feel angry. I couldn't help wondering whether he'd tell Old Pete straight out that it warn't him that was commanding the Army. I reckon he might have, too, only jest then Colonel Long came up to report, and after him another officer I didn't know, whose horse told me they'd come from General Ewell--the Bald General--who'd got his 'uns already into the town.
Old Pete seemed to me to have turned real sulky. 'Far as I recollect, he hardly answered the next time Marse Robert spoke to him, and soon after that (it was getting on to evening now), he rode off--to get back to his men, he said, who was coming up by the same road we'd come by.
There was no more firing now from anywhere ahead, and Marse Robert and me set off down the hill for the town, 'long with Major Taylor and a few more. I remember how we went by a passel o' prisoners standing round the outskirts. Some of them recognized Marse Robert and pointed him out as we went by.
We pulled up at a house jest outside town. There was a little rose garden there, all in bloom, and a power of horses hitched to the rails. I could see the Bald General limping down the path to meet Marse Robert as he dismounted--the Bald General had a wooden leg, Tom, you know; he'd lost a leg in the fighting--and some of his commanders 'long with him. The Cussing General--General Early--was one of them. I always thought of him that way, 'cause I don't believe he ever spoke without a-cussing, even when he was talking to Marse Robert.
All I can tell you, Tom, after all this time, is that I knowed at once't that the Bald General was feeling powerful jittery. You could tell that jest by looking at him. Whenever I smell evening roses now, it makes me recollect being hitched to that fence and seeing the Bald General and Marse Robert and the Cussing General and the rest walking off into a little kinda wooden house set among the roses and talking as they went.
The Bald General's horse was hitched right 'longside me. "What's the matter with your master?" I asked. "I thought your outfit had took the town and whupped the enemy?"
"They have," he answered, "but now, 'parently, my man don't know what to do next. They've all been trying to tell him, but he can't make up his mind. He's like that, you know. He's a good master to me and all his fellas like him, but it's always the same--he can't decide for hisself."
Well, the sun moved around and down into the west, the flies got less troublesome and the air began to cool, and still we-all stood there, blowing and stamping, while the generals talked in the rose garden. There was a fine red sunset and if'n you didn't know otherwise you'd have thought it was jest as nice and peaceful an evening as could be.
I kept looking at those two hills sticking up on the far side of the town. Hoof and tail! I thought. What is there to be a-talking 'bout all this time? Even I can tell we ought to get on and take those hills afore the Blue men can dig in on 'em. I remembered how much care Marse Robert had taken before the battle in the snow, when him and me was riding round and fixing our guns where they'd be able to shoot whichever way the Blue men came at us. That's what we call a good field of fire, Tom, you know. If'n only we could get some guns up on those hills now, I thought, the Blue men'd be running away like they did two months ago in the forest. I wish Sorrel was here. I wish Cap-in-His-Eyes would come a-riding round the corner now, and hitch Sorrel up and give me a pat and a word. I wanted my feed and I could have drunk a bucket and more. Only, we didn't get none, 'cause no one knowed how soon our generals would be done and wanting us.
Well, at last Marse Robert and the Bald General came out of the rose garden, still talking together. All I could tell from looking at them was that Marse Robert was pressing the Bald General to do something and the Bald General didn't like it. Marse Robert kept turning his head and stressing what he was saying with his hands, and the Bald General kept on jest a-listening and nodding, saying very little and looking down at the ground. He warn't like Old Pete; he warn't argufying back. He put me more in mind of a horse that's gotten afeared of something in the road--you know, a pile of sacks, maybe, or a milk churn--and jest don't want to go on past it.
A minute or two later we was riding away, back to the ridge where we'd talked to Old Pete. Headquarters had been fixed up in a little house jest below the ridge and overlooking the town. I remember the stable had plenty of rats--Joker said he figured you could walk on 'em--but I was too tired to take much notice. Soon as he'd fed and watered us, Dave lay down to sleep in the hay, jest like that. I'd come to know what that meant. Orders must 'a been given for a mighty early start next morning.
XV
Well, it turned out an early start, all right--one of the shortest nights I can remember. The whole of headquarters was up and astir in the dark, a good while before first light. I'd been half-hoping Marse Robert might be riding Lucy--after all, the day before had been hard 'nuff for me--but 'twarn't to be. I knowed then he must be expecting to come under fire. Lucy's a good horse and I've always got on well with her, but she never really got used to the bangs, you know--not surprising, 'cause she hadn't been given to Marse Robert for that in the first place. She'd been given him to ride when he couldn't use his hands, all on 'count of me a-throwing him down that day. Anyway, I found myself saddled up again and I recall the sun was jest rising when me and Marse Robert came back up that ridge.
Marse Robert turned me around, and then he sat still a long time, looking out acrost the plain below.
I never liked that open country, Tom, you know; I mean, all that country up beyond the big river we'd crossed over. 'Twarn't proper country, like where we'd come from-- not like the river country where we'd so often beat the Blue men afore now. There was fewer trees, and too much of it was open and flat. What's more, the grass was different and there was too much sky. That morning the sky was clear from one horizon to t'other--clear blue, but sort of purple along the rim. I could tell 'twas going to be a real scorching day. I s'posed the battle was to be fought down on the plain; but if 'twas, there warn't ary a Blue man to be seed yet.
I could soon tell there was something bothering Marse Robert. His seat warn't easy and natural, his hands was taut on the reins and he kept looking round like he was waiting for someone who hadn't come. Our headquarters majors was with us, and after a while he sent Major Venable off towards the town--to talk to the Bald General, I reckoned.
Then up come Old Pete, and right off I could tell, without asking Hero, that he was in a real bad mood. As the two of 'em came up, Hero must 'a done something he didn't like, 'cause he spoke sharp to him and jerked on his bit. That turned Hero sulky and he didn't even answer back my nicker, so I jest held still and waited to see what would happen next.
Old Pete started straight in talking to Marse Robert in a voice which would certainly have upset me if'n he'd been talking to me from the saddle. But Marse Robert, he jest listened, polite and undisturbed as usual. Once't or twice't I felt him shake his head, and 'nother time I felt his hand close into a fist on the reins. I began to feel angry myself. All I could tell was there was something Marse Robert felt we ought to be doing--something important--and Old Pete didn't want to do it.
After a while, Marse Robert dismounted. Dave came up and took my bridle, and Marse Robert left Old Pete and began walking up and down in the trees. By this time more of our generals had arrived. Red Shirt was there--'twas his fellas that we'd come up on in the fight the day before, of course, when we'd ridden towards the sound of the guns. Then the young Texas general rode up, and he went straight over to talk to Marse Robert. I remember Marse Robert pointing out over the plain and I heared him say something 'bout we must beat those people or else they'd beat us. But after that Old Pete spoke to the Texas general where Marse Robert couldn't hear, and 'far as I could understand he was saying he didn't want to attack--or not yet anyways.
After a bit the Fat General with the big black beard come up, and Marse Robert talked to him, too. I could see he was telling him what he wanted done, but then all of a sudden Old Pete broke in on what the Fat General was answering, and said, "No, sir. No, sir, I don't want that--" or something of the kind. Marse Robert jest said real quiet, "No, General. I want it jest there, please," and pointed.
If ever I seed a man all riled up, 'twas Old Pete jest then. I don't think the Fat General knowed what to make of it at all. After a bit more talk he jest saluted and went off--to get his fellas ready for the battle, I s'pose.
There was a real bad feel to things, and the way it 'peared to me, the day had started all wrong. Soon after that we rode away, Marse Robert and me, back to the town. I'd never knowed no time before when Marse Robert had 'peared so strung-up. That battle in the snow, when we'd stood all day by the guns on the hill, he'd felt to me like a big rock in a field, with the Blue men breaking theirselves to pieces on it over an' over. Even when the gun blowed up right next to us, he hadn't moved a muscle. Now he seemed edgy--not hisself at all--riding here and there, not stopping anywhere for long, fidgeting in the saddle and asking questions of 'most everyone we met. I decided Old Pete must have upset him bad.
When we reached town, the Bald General warn't anywheres around, but we found one of his commanders, who took us to a house with a sort of a little tower atop it, and Marse Robert went up there to have him a look-see. Well, I didn't need to go up no tower to see that now those two hills out beyond the town was jest stiff with Blue men. Sure 'nuff, we hadn't managed to put ary guns or fellas up there. By the time Marse Robert came down, the Bald General had rode up. They got to talking and I seed Marse Robert pointing up at the hills. He said something 'bout the enemy being in a good position, and I figured he was real disappointed the Bald General hadn't done more since last night.
We started back with Colonel Long, but Marse Robert said very little on the way. He seemed to be listening all the time--listening for something that didn't come. I know now what it must 'a been; he was hoping to hear Old Pete's guns starting the battle. He felt we shouldn't be waiting about. I remember we rode close to a gun position, and Marse Robert spoke sharp to their officer for not limbering up his guns and getting 'em forward. The officer told Marse Robert he'd made a mistake; he warn't one o' them as was meant to go--he belonged to Red Shirt. Marse Robert said he was sorry, civil as you please, and then he asked, "Do you know where Longstreet is?" I've never knowed him sound so impatient, not before or since. Soon after that, he even started leading one bunch of our fellas forward hisself.
Well, in the end we did find Old Pete, but he still hadn't started his attack. While him and Marse Robert was dismounted and talking, I told Hero straight out that I reckoned it warn't right to disregard Marse Robert's orders thataway. All he said was "Oh, go to the slaughterhouse, Traveller. What do you know about it?"
"What do any of us know about it?" I said. "I know who's s'posed to be commanding this here Army."
"We'll attack when we're good and ready," snaps Hero, and after that he wouldn't say no more at all.
Well, I'd jest as soon not tell you, Tom, 'bout the rest of that day. What it come to was that what was meant to happen didn't. Marse Robert and me kept a-riding up and down our lines. The fellas was all laying up in the trees and brush along the ridge, and the sun got hotter and hotter till every horse and man was jest 'bout half-crazy with thirst. We left Old Pete for a while, but later we jined up with him again while he was leading some of his fellas down the slope and forward towards t'other ridge--the one the Blue men had got theirselves settled atop of. The soldiers was jest a-pouring with sweat and all those boots was kicking up a power of dust, real thick. 'Twas as much as a horse could do to catch a breath of air, and this was 'bout four hours after the middle of the day, too.
This time Marse Robert and me didn't go forward with the attack. He turned me back up the ridge and we went off to find Red Shirt. He dismounted, I remember, and for a while he was talking to Red Shirt and Colonel Long and some more; but most of the time he spent jest a-sitting there on an old tree stump, a-listening to our guns firing down below. And do you know, Tom--you're not going to believe this--from somewhere way off by the town, I could hear one of our bands playing-- playing away real lively? True.
I never did jest rightly understand the rest of that day myself. There was fighting sure 'nuff, but 'twas all too far off for me and t'other horses up on the ridge to take in anything much, 'cepting for the battle smoke and the guns and the yelling. Still, one thing was for sure. Marse Robert and me, we never went forward, like we had in the swamps the year before, or like the day after Cap-in-His-Eyes marched away into the forest. So I guessed that our fellas out there couldn't be driving the Blue men like we generally did. 'Nother thing that seemed out of ordinary was there was so few horsemen coming and going where we was at. Marse Robert only sent one horseman out all that afternoon, and 'far as I can remember only one came to headquarters.
What I think now, after all this time, is that our fellas could surely have beat the Blue men good and proper, but the trouble was we didn't all attack together. I remember Joker saying something like that the same evening. "They're not doing what Marse Robert meant 'em to do," he says to me. "It's all got out of joint--different lots coming different times, and all the Blue men got to do is sit up there and hold their ground."
By the late evening Marse Robert was in one of his silent, pondering moods. "What's the trouble?" I asked Leopard--that was Major Venable's horse. "We're not beat, that's for sure." "No," said Leopard, "but Marse Robert was hoping t
o beat them, and the trouble is they're still sitting up there where they was this morning."
'Twas dark now, and sultry and airless, too; the night seemed real close and oppressive. There was still some muskets firing, but no more guns. After a while the moon came up, out beyond the enemy's ridge, and the whippoorwills began calling among the trees, setting out for hunting. Marse Robert--yes, Tom, he did---he found the time to come and talk to me and Dave while I was being rubbed down and fed and watered. He was fondling me around the neck and stroking my nose, like he often did; and then, jest as Dave had gone off to fill a bucket (or half-fill it, 'cause there warn't all that much water to go round), "Oh, Traveller," he says, so quiet that only I could hear him. "Oh, Traveller, we can still beat them. We've won a lot of ground, and the men are in good heart. We can beat them, Traveller! Tomorrow we'll beat them!" Then Dave come back and Marse Robert began talking to him 'bout what he thought might be a little strain in one of my fetlocks. He'd be needing me next day, he said. Dave told him he figured I'd be fine.
I couldn't honestly have told anyone I was feeling fine when Dave saddled me up again after a few hours' rest that felt like half a feed of thin hay. T'other headquarters horses looked as rough as I did. I remember one of them, a mare called Ivy, actually stumbling over the stable threshold and falling on her knees. Dave led me on over to where Marse Robert was waiting. He looked tired, too. I was beginning to wonder how much longer anyone, horse or man, could go on like this. And yet if I'd only knowed, we'd hardly started.
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