by John McElroy
CHAPTER XI. THE MOUNTAIN FOLK
THE SHADOW OF AN EAST TENNESSEE VENDETTA.
THE long roll turned out to be occasioned by the burning of a UnionTennesseean's house by a squad of revengeful guerrillas, but theregiment had to stay under arms until a party of cavalry went out andmade an investigation. The men stacked their arms, and lay around on theground to get what sleep was possible, and which was a good deal, forthe night was pleasant, and there are worse beds than the mossy hillsideon a July night.
"Too bad that your weddin' night had to be broken up so," said Sisympathetically, as he and Shorty and the bridegroom sat together on aknoll and watched the distant flames. "But you needn't 've come with usthis time; nobody expected you to."
"Why, I s'posed this wuz part o' the regler thing," answered Nate inamazement. "I s'posed that wuz the way yo'uns allers married folkses inthe army. Allers something happens at weddin's down hyah. Mos'ginerully hit's a free fout betwixt the young fellers o' the bride's an'bridegroom's famblies, from 'sputin' which fambly's made the best match.When Brother Wils married Becky Barnstable we Hartburn boys said thatWils mout-ve looked higher. The Barnstable boys done tuk hit up, an'said the Barnstables wuz ez good ez the Hartburns ary day in theweek, an' at the weddin' Nels Barnstable had his eye gouged out, IkeBarnstable wuz knocked down with a flail, an' had what the doctorcalled discussion o' the brain, and ole Sandy Barnstable cut off PeteHartburn's ear with a bowie. They-uns reopened the argyment at theinfair, an' laid out two o' the Hartburns with ox-gads. I don't thinkthey orter used ox-gads. Tain't gentlemanly. D'ye think so? Knives,an' pistols, an' guns, an' even flails an' axes, is all right, when youcan't git nothin' better, but I think ox-gads is low an' onery."
Si and Shorty looked at the gentle, drawling, mild-eyed youngTennesseean with amazement. A young girl could not have seemed softer ormore pliant, yet he quietly talked of savage fighting as one of the mostcasual things in life.
"Well," said Shorty, "if that's the way you celebrat weddin's andin-fairs down here in Tennessee, I don't wonder that you welcome abattle for a change. I think I'd prefer a debate with guns to one withaxes and flails and anything that'd come handy. It's more reg'ler tohave umpires and referees, and the thing conducted accordin' to therules of the P. R. Then when you git through you know for sure who'slicked."
"Jist 'cordin' t' how one's raised," remarked Nate philosophically."I've allers done seed a big furse o' some kind at a weddin'. Don't allyo'uns have none at yo'uns's weddin's?"
"Nothin' worse'n gittin' the girl's dad to consent," answered Shorty,"and scratchin' 'round to git the money to git married on to buy anew suit o' clothes, fee the preacher, pay for the license, and starthousekeepin'. That's enough for one lifetime."
"Well, mam an' the gals made Wils's weddin' cloze," said Natereflectively. "He had his own sheep, which he sheared in the Spring.They'uns carded, spun, dyed, an' wove the wool themselves, an' made himthe purtiest suit o' cloze ever seed on the mountings."
"Your mother and sisters goin' to make your weddin' suit, Si?" askedShorty. "What'd he have to pay for the license?"
"License? What's that?" asked Nate.
"License? Why, a license," explained Si, "is something you git from theCounty Clerk. It's leave to git married, and published in the Countypaper."
"Don't have t' have no leave from nobody down here t' git married. Hit'snobody's business but the man's an' the gal's, an' they'uns's famblies.Some times other folkses tries t' stick their noses in, but they'uns gitsot down upon."
"What'd he pay the preacher?" asked Shorty.
"Why, mam gin his wife a hank o' fine stockin' yarn, an' dad gin him acouple sides o' bacon."
"At present prices o' pork in Injianny," remarked Si, after a littlemental figuring, "that wasn't such a bad fee."
"If you speak to the Captain," suggested Si, "he'll let you go backhome to your wife. I don't believe there's goin' to be anything specialto-night. The cavalry don't seem to be stirrin' up nothin out there."
"I don't keer t'," said Nate, in his sweet, girlish drawl. "Rutherstay with yo'all. Mout somethin' happen. Biff Perkins an' his gango' gorillers is out thar somewhar, not fur off, huntin' a chance furdeviltry. I'd like mouty t' git a whack at they'uns. Nance'll keep.She's mine now, fast an' good, for ever, an'll wait fur me. Afore we wuzspliced I wuz afeered Zach Barnstable mout work some contrivance t' gither, but now she belongs t' me."
The boys took him to their hearts more than ever.
At the coming of the early dawn the regiment was aroused and marchedback to camp, there to meet orders to move forward at once, as soonas breakfast was prepared and eaten. Away it marched for the TennesseeRiver, behind which Bragg was supposed to be gathering his forces forthe defense of Chattanooga.
As Co. Q went by the cabin, Grandfather Onslow was seated in arocking-chair on the porch, smoking a cob pipe, while Mrs. Nancy OnslowHartburn, with her finger bashfully in her mouth, peeped around thecorner. Co. Q gave her a cheer, at which she turned and fled out ofsight, as if it was some raillery on her newly-married state, and Natehung down his head, as if he, too, felt the boys were poking fun at him.
"Good-by, boys. Lick the life outen Ole Bragg," quavered GrandfatherOnslow, waving his hand after them.
"That's what we're goin' to do," shouted the boys in reply.
"Well," said Si, "I bet if ever I'm married I'll kiss my wife before Igo away."
"Me, too," echoed Shorty, very soulfully.
Shorty and Si considered Nate Hartburn their special protege, and weredeeply anxious to transform him into a complete soldier in the shortestpossible time. He was so young, alert, and seemingly pliable, that itappeared there would be no difficulty in quickly making him a modelsoldier. But they found that while he at once responded to anysuggestion of a raid or a fight, drill, discipline and camp routinewere bores that he could be induced to take only a languid interest in.Neither Si nor Shorty were any too punctilious in these matters, butthey were careful to keep all the time within easy conversationaldistance of the regulations and tactics. Naturally, also, they wantedtheir pupil to do better than they did. But no lecturing would preventyoung Hartburn from slouching around camp with his hands in his pocketsand his head bent. He would not or could not keep step in the ranks, normark time. While Si was teaching him he would make a listless attemptto go through the manual of arms, but he would make no attempt to handlehis gun the prescribed way after the lesson was ended. Si was dulymindful of the sore time he himself had in learning the drill, and triedto be very considerate with him, but his patience was sorely tried attimes.
"For goodness' sake, Nate," Si would say irritably, "try to keep step.You're throwin' everybody out."
"'Tain't my fault, Si," Nate would reply with a soft drawl. "Hit'stheirs. I'm walkin' all right, but they'uns hain't. Jaw them. What'sthe sense o' walkin' so' close together, anyway? Yo' don't git thar nosooner."
Then again:
"Great jumpin' Jehosephat, Nate, will you never learn the right way tohold your gun when you present arms? You must turn the trigger outside,not the hammer."
"O, Jeminy, what difference does hit make? I never kin recollect hit,an' what's the use o' tryin'? Can't see no sense in holdin' a gunstraight up an' down that-a-way, anyway, an' if yo' do, hain't one sidejest as good as t'other?"
He was so obdurate that the boys would some times be provoked to sharpwords to him, but his gentle speech would quickly disarm them again, andmake them feel penitent.
At last the 200th Ind. came out upon the crest of Waldron's Ridge,overlooking the Tennessee River, which wound and turned amid thetowering mountains like a band of bright silver traversing the giantbillows of green. Everyone caught his breath at the sight, for beyondthe stream were rebel camps, and moving trains and long, lines ofmarching men. Was all of Bragg's army gathered over there to dispute thepassage or was a part still this side of the river, ready to pounce onour heads of columns as they meandered down the mountain?
The brigade was closed up, inform
ation sent to the Division Commander,and the 200th Ind. pushed to the front to develop whatever might bethere. Si with Shorty and some others were sent ahead to feel for theenemy.
"Take him along?" asked Si of Shorty in a low tone, with a nod towardNate, as they were making up the squad.
"Don't know," answered Shorty. "If ever in the world, we want men withus to-day who don't git rattled, and make a holy show o' theirselvesbefore the regiment, but'll keep cool, watch their chances, and obeyorders. Guess we'd better leave him behind."
"Seems to me," said Si, trying vaguely to recall his Scriptual readings,"that the Bible says some thing agin takin' a newly-married man rightinto battle just after he's married."
He looked around again, saw Nate taking his place along with the othermen selected, and called out:
"Here, Nate, fall back to the company. You can't go along."
"Please, Mister Si, le' me go along," begged Nate, in the soft tones ofa girl asking for a flower. "I'll be good. I'll hold my gun straight,an' try t' keep step."
"No, you can't go., This 's partickler business, and we want onlyexperienced men with us. Better fall back to the company."
"Go ahead, there, Corporal," commanded the Adjutant. "Time's passing.We must move."
Si deployed his men and entered the dense woods which curtained the viewand shrouded the enemy. It was one of those deeply anxious moments inwar, when the enemy is in ambush, and the next instant, the next stepmay develop him in deadly activity.
Si was on the right of his line and Shorty on the left, and they werepushing forward slowly, cautiously, and with every sense strained to theextremity of alertness.
So dense was the foliage overhead that it was almost a twilight in theforest depths they were penetrating, and Si's eyes were strained tokeep track of the men moving on his left, and at the same time watch thedevelopments in front. He had noticed that he was approaching a littleopening some distance ahead, and that beyond it was a dense thicket oftall laurels. Then he thought he heard a low whistle from Shorty, andlooked far to the left, while continuing to walk forward.
Suddenly he was startled by a shot a little to his rear and left. Then ashot answered from the laurel thicket, he saw the bushes over there stirviolently, and he heard Nate's voice say:
"He wuz layin' for yo', Si, an' come nigh a-gittin' yo', but I think Imust've at least creased him, from the wild way he shot back. Le's goforrard an' see."
"I thought I told you to stay back," said Si, more intent on militarydiscipline than his escape.
"I know yo' did done hit, but I couldn't mind, an' tagged 'long arteryo'."
"How'd you know he wuz there?"
"I done seed the bushes move over his head. I knowed jest how he wuza-layin' for yo'. Le's go forrard an' git him."
Si and Nate ran across the open space to the laurels, and found a littleways in a bushwhacker staggering from pain and loss of blood from awound in his hip, and making labored efforts to escape.
"I done hit him; I done fetched him; I done knowed jist whar he wuz,"exclaimed Nate with boyish exultation.
At the sound of his voice the bushwhacker turned around upon him anugly, brutal face, full of savage hatred.
"Why, hit's bad ole Wash Barnstable, what burnt daddy's stable with twohorses, an' shot brother Wils through the arm. I'll jist job him in theheart with my bayonet," screamed the boy as he recognized the face.His own features became transfigured with rage, and he began fixing hisbayonet. Si pushed forward and caught the bushwhacker by the shoulderand tore the gun from his hand. Nate came springing up, with his bayonetpointed directly at the man's heart. Si saw it in time to thrust itaside, saying in wrathful astonishment:
"Nate, you little scoundrel, what do you mean? Would you kill a woundedman?"
"Suttenly I'll done kill him," screamed the boy in a a frenzy of rage."Why not? He desarves hit, the hell-hound. All of us Hartburns 've saidwe'd done kill him the minnit we laid eyes on him. Now that I've got himI'm gwine t' finish him."
He made another vicious lunge at the man with his bayonet.
"Indeed you're not," said Si, releasing his hold on the prisonerand catching Nate's gun. "You mustn't kill a wounded man, you youngwildcat."
"YOU MUST'NT KILL A WOUNDED MAN 143]
"Why not?" shouted the boy, beside himself with rage. "He's done killedlots o' men. He'll kill more if yo' let him go. He wuz layin' t' killyo'. Air yo' gwine t' gin him another chance to down yo'?"
Si wrested the gun from him. Two or three other boys who had beenattracted by the shot came up at this moment. Si gave the prisoner intothe charge of one of them, with instructions to take him to the rear.Nate released his hold on his gun and made a jump for the one which theother boy had stood against a tree when he started to take hold of theprisoner. Again Si was too quick for him. He was by this time so angrythat he was in the mood to give Nate a severe lesson, but the Adjutant,had ridden forward, called out:
"Go ahead, there, Corporal. We're just behind you."
"Pick up your gun, there, Nate, and come along with me, if you kinbehave yourself. There's work much more important than killin' woundedbushwhackers. Come along, this minute."
Nate hesitated a moment, then picked up his gun with a vengeful look atthe prisoner.
"I'll kill him yit. Mebbe I'll git a chance this evenin' yit," said he,and followed Si.