THE MARCH HOMEWARD.
Leon remained beside his father until the wagons were turned around, and
when he ordered the cavalry ahead to take its place at the advance of
the column, he went with them. Forty wagons, and some of them were
loaded so heavily that four mules could scarcely draw them. Everybody
was pleased with the performance. If all the wagon-trains they captured
were to be taken as easily as that, they had no fear but that they
should have grub enough. Every driver’s seat was filled with men who
thought that they preferred riding to walking, and they all joined in
and sang, at the top of their voices:
“John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering in the grave.”
How the song got down there they didn’t know. Probably some of those who
had been prisoners in the hands of the Federals, and there were a good
many old soldiers in the lot, had heard it sung by their captors, and
now that they were fighting for the Union they resolved to imitate them
as far as possible. Finally, when Mr. Sprague appeared riding along
beside them, somebody thought he ought to be praised for what he had
done, so he called out, in tones that were heard to the farthest end of
the line:
“Three cheers for Colonel Sprague. Hip, hip, hurrah!”
All the men immediately around there joined in in cheering Colonel
Sprague—they had given him a new title, now—and Mr. Sprague took off his
hat. As far as he went along the line everybody cheered him, and there
was something in their way of talking to his father that made Leon feel
very happy. He was bringing up the rear, leading his captured horse as
he went, until he found himself opposite a wagon managed by his friend
Tom Howe. Leon was glad to see him, for he had not spoken with him since
they left Ellisville. There were three men on the driver’s seat, and Tom
was sitting on the knees of one and handling the reins over his
four-mule team as if he had been used to it all his life.
“G’lang here!” he shouted when he saw Leon riding by. “We don’t take no
slack from anybody. But say, Leon, you will stand by me, won’t you?”
“Of course I will stand by you,” said Leon. “But I don’t know what you
mean.”
“Do you see that leading muel there, that white one?” said Tom, pointing
out the animal in question. “Well, that’s mine. There ain’t been anybody
to lay a claim to him and I want him.”
“I guess you can have him,” said Leon. “But why don’t you take a horse?”
“I would rather have the muel than that horse you are leading by the
bits. Where did you get him?”
“I got these weapons,” said Leon, showing the revolver and sword he
carried about his waist and the carbine he held in his hand, “from a
young fellow who gave them up to me without being asked. He has gone off
in the bushes, now, to get out of sight of the other members of the
escort, but he’ll be back directly.”
“Who let him go into the bushes?” inquired one of the men who was
sitting on the driver’s seat with Tom.
“I did.”
“Well, he has taken a rough way to escape. Why didn’t he stay here and
march away with his squad?”
“But he don’t want to escape,” said Leon. “He is a Union man, and he
wants to go home with us.”
“You are the most confiding man I ever saw. You will never see him
again.”
“Then I shall have a horse and weapons to give to somebody who needs
them. I don’t need them myself. When you want to get that mule, Tom, you
come to me.”
“I’ll do it,” said Tom, as he unwound his lash and gave the leading
white mule a cut with the whip to make him pull faster; whereupon the
mule’s ears came back and he kicked with both hind feet in the direction
of the wagon, barely missing the wheel-mule’s head. Leon laughed
heartily. “Well, you see, he hasn’t been taught to pull in a wagon. This
is his first attempt, but he is gay on horseback, and I’ll bet on it.
I’ll teach him in two days so that he won’t kick.”
Leon urged his horse on ahead to catch up with the cavalry, but he had
not made many steps before the bushes parted at his side and the young
rebel who owned the steed he was leading came out.
“Have they gone?” said he, and he acted like one who felt overjoyed. “I
told you I would come back, and here I am. May I get up and ride my
horse?”
“Certainly,” said Leon, and he felt so delighted to see the rebel that
he could have hugged him. He didn’t know what his father would say to
him for allowing that man to go out in the bushes. He gave up the horse,
and the young fellow swung himself into the saddle.
“I am glad you didn’t give him up to some of your men who have no horses
of their own,” said the rebel, as he accompanied Leon toward the head of
the column. “My father raised this animal, I broke him myself, and he’s
got just the kind of a gait that I like. Now, what are you going to do
here in this county? Are you going to rebel against the Confederacy sure
enough?”
“We have gone out already,” said Leon. “I haven’t got a copy of the
resolutions with me, but you can see them when you get up to
Ellisville.”
“It beats anything I ever heard of,” exclaimed the rebel, who burst out
laughing every time he thought of it. “The idea that one county in the
very heart of the Southern Confederacy should cut loose from it and say
that they are Union men beats my time all holler. I told my father about
it—”
“Where is your father now?” interrupted Leon.
“He is in the rebel army.”
“Was he conscripted?”
“No. We didn’t wait for that, but we heard enough to let us know what
Jeff Davis was going to do. More than that, some of our neighbors began
to talk about hanging those who did not believe as they did to the
plates of their own gallery, and as we could get into the cavalry by
enlisting then, we rode down to the county-seat one day and gave our
names in.”
“Have you been in any fights?”
“Two or three; but, mind you, I always shot high. I never drew a bullet
on a Union man in my life. I live only three or four miles from where
you stopped us, and I really wish the authorities of Jones county would
give me permission to go back and get my mother.”
“Do you think your father would come up here after that?”
“Of course he would. We have done nothing but think and talk about what
you fellows are doing here ever since we have been in the army. There
was a distinct understanding between my father and myself that whoever
escaped first should bring my mother here.”
“Well, Mr.— Mr.—,” began Leon.
“Dawson is my name,” said the rebel.
“If you turn out to be all right I will go with you,” said Leon.
“Will you?” exclaimed the rebel, so highly excited that he could hardly
speak plainly. “I know we will succeed, for you have been in fights
enough to know what it means.”
“I don’t understand you,” said Leon. “This is as near as I have come to
being in a fight.”
“What! Capturing our wagon-train? You don’t tell me! Well, I have seen
men who had been in three or four battles that showed more nervousness
than you did. You were not excited a bit.”
Leon very wisely concluded that he would not say anything more on this
subject just then. He never was more excited in his life than when he
rode along the line and demanded the rebel’s weapons. If Dawson thought
he wasn’t excited, so much the better for him.
“I certainly thought you had been where you had seen men knocked down by
the cart-load,” said Dawson, looking at Leon to see what he was made of.
“I have been where I have seen a whole platoon laid out at one fire, but
I never go into action without feeling afraid. After this trouble is all
over I would like to compare notes with you.”
“To see how many times I am afraid?” asked Leon. “I don’t care to
compare notes with you on that, for I know I shall feel afraid all the
time. I’ve got one chum here who won’t haul in his shingle one inch to
please anybody, and we’ll ask him to go with us.”
“Two men are all we want,” said Dawson. “By the way, there was a friend
of mine deserted the camp night before last, and he stole the
wagon-master’s horse to help him along. I don’t suppose you have seen
anything of him, have you?”
“We have a rebel up to Ellisville, and he says that was the way he got
away. But his horse and weapons have been taken from him.”
“That’s all right. You wanted him to prove to you that he was true-blue
before you let him have his fire-arms. But he’s all hunky-dory. He told
you about this wagon-train? I never saw him in a fight with Federals
when he pretended to show any vim about it, but you give him rebels to
shoot at and you’ll hear something drop. He hasn’t got the smallest
sympathy for a Confederate. Why, they had him with a rope around his
neck, and were going to hang him.”
“He never said anything to us about that,” said Leon, in surprise.
“It happened on the very morning that father and I went down to enlist,”
said Dawson, “and the way they acted made us believe that when they got
through with him they were coming to see us. We rushed into his house
and did some good talking to save the man’s neck, and when they let him
go he got onto his horse and went down to the county-seat with us. But
didn’t he give the rebels a good blessing!”
“He could say what he had a mind to in your presence, I suppose?”
“Yes, sir; and he laid down the law in good shape, I tell you. There are
six men he wants to find, and they are the men who had the rope around
his neck. What are you going to do with the prisoners you capture in
battle?”
“I am sure I don’t know,” said Leon, with a laugh. “We haven’t got any
yet.”
“You haven’t been in a fight yet? How many men have you?”
“We had about three hundred fighting men, but first one Union family has
come in, and then another, until we have a thousand men able to bear
arms. Father said that about three hundred fighting men were all we had
when this war broke out about a year ago, but they have been coming in
from all sides. One man I know here has come from the mountains of
Tennessee. I tell you we are going to make a good fight if the rebels
get after us.”
“I believe you; and these men you have now won’t be a patching to what
you will have by and by. But say,” added Dawson, as they drew up in the
rear of the cavalry, “do you really think you will be able to go with me
to get my mother?”
“That depends entirely on what my father says. If he continues to let me
do as I please, as he always has done, I’ll go with you. There is no
chance of being captured down there, I suppose?”
“Not in the least. Mobile is their nearest headquarters, and we can slip
in there and get away again without any one being the wiser for it. It
can be done just as easy as falling off a log.”
“Well, you stay here and I will go on and ride by my father. I will tell
him about you and see what he has to say.”
Leon turned out and hurried on ahead to meet his father, who was riding
alone in advance of the column, with his hat drawn over his eyes, as if
he were thinking deeply. When he saw who the new-comer was he pushed
back his hat, and beamed upon him with a smile that reminded the boy of
old times.
“I tell you, father, you have done one good act in capturing this
train,” said Leon. “What were you thinking of?”
“Oh, there are lots of things to come after this,” said Mr. Sprague. “We
have got to whip the rebels in order to keep the train. Where’s your
horse?”
“The owner has got him;” and taking this as his starting-point, Leon
went on to give his father as much of the history of Dawson as he was
acquainted with. When he told about the rebels having a rope around the
neck of that man in camp his father was hardly prepared to believe it.
“But do you think the man honest?” asked Mr. Sprague.
“I know he is. No boy could talk as feelingly of his mother as he did
and tell a lie about it. Now, if you will let me go down there and bring
his family up here, we will make two good soldiers by the operation.”
“We will see about it when the time comes,” said Mr. Sprague.
That was enough for Leon, who reined his horse out of the road and
halted until Dawson came up. Somehow he had taken a great fancy for the
young rebel. There was something so honest about him that Leon put
strong faith in everything he said. He drew up beside Dawson, and the
latter’s face grew more radiant than ever when Leon said that his father
would “see about it.”
“That is as good as saying that I may go, if something doesn’t turn up
in the meantime. Now, the next thing will be to get Tom to go with us. I
shall feel a heap better with him alongside of me.”
It was a long journey toward Ellisville, and the mules walked so slowly
that it was almost midnight when they got there. Following the
instructions of Mr. Sprague, the wagons were drawn up in a park in the
grove, the mules were watered at the river and staked out where they had
plenty of food, and the men left of their own accord and went to bed.
There was no posting of sentries about the wagons to see that some
backwoodsman did not slip up there to steal anything, for such a thing
as theft was never heard of in that county. They knew that the things
would be in the wagons in the morning in just as good shape as they were
then. When Leon and Dawson, after hitching their horses and foddering
them, turned to go to the opposite side of the grove, the place where
that rebel was under guard, they came across Tom Howe, who had his coat
off and was building a fire.
“Why, Tom, come with us,” said Leon. “I am going to get something to eat
before I go to bed.”
“Well, sir, you can go and get it, for you are one of these hungry
fellows who always want something,” replied Tom. “Do you see that muel?
I ain’t a-going to take my eyes off of him until your father gives him
into my possession.”
“You haven’t had any supper, have you?”
“Nary supper. And I ain’t a-going to have any, either, until I get that
there muel in my hands.”
“You can come back here and sleep. Tom, this is Dawson, whom I want you
to be friends with. He was in that squad, but he gave up his horse and
weapons to me without being asked.”
The moment Leon referred to Dawson Tom put his hands behind his back as
if he didn’t want to say how glad he was to see him. Leon noticed the
movement and went on with something which he knew would bring Tom to his
senses. Tom had a mother, his father was dead, and he fairly worshipped
her.
“He is going down after his mother, and I am going, too. And we want you
to go with us.”
“Howdy!” exclaimed Tom, and his hands came out and he shook Dawson as if
he was a friend from whom he had long been separated. “Then he’s all
right, of course. I’ll go, but you must get my muel for me.”
The boys bent their steps toward the hotel, for they knew that the
landlord was a man who was determined to do what he could to help along
the cause. He knew that at least a portion of the men who had gone out
to capture that wagon-train had no place to get anything to eat, and he
cooked up a lot of food for them, and had it spread out on his
dining-room tables. He had remained up all night, and the noise the men
made when they returned almost drove him wild.
“Who said those who took part with us in this useless struggle would go
hungry?” said he, standing on the porch, and welcoming the men as they
came up, and sending them all into the dining-room. “Ah! here’s Leon and
Tom Howe, I declare. Where did you get shot, boys? And a rebel, as sure
as I am a foot high. Where did you take him up?”
“I am a rebel no longer,” replied Dawson. “In spite of my clothes I am
as good a Union man as there is in the county.”
“You are just the lads we want,” said the landlord. “Haven’t had
anything to eat yet? No dinner, either? Then go right into the
dining-room. You will find the President and the Secretary of War in
there.”
The boys went in and found the two officers sitting in a remote corner
engaged in earnest conversation. They talked in low tones, and it was
evident that they did not want anybody to hear what they were
discussing, so the boys sat down and began an attack upon the food. The
way the landlord’s bacon, eggs and corn-bread disappeared before them
would have astonished that gentleman could he have witnessed it. It made
no difference to them that the food was cold, for the coffee was hot,
and they finally stopped because they were ashamed to eat any more. By
the time they had finished eating their supper the two high officers
ceased their consultation, and Mr. Sprague hauled up a chair to the
nearest table and sat down. Leon decided that this was his time. Tom
Howe would certainly sleep better if he knew that the mule was his own.
“Father, there’s a white mule out there in the train, and Tom Howe wants
him.”
“Well, he can have him, I guess,” said Mr. Sprague. “Anybody else laid
any claim to him?”
“No, sir; Tom is the only one. And he has taken a mighty queer animal to
carry him through this war. He kicks.”
“Tom will have to manage that to suit himself. Why don’t he wait until
we can capture a horse?”
“Because he would rather have that mule than anything else.”
“Tell him to take him, and welcome.”
Leon found his companions in the living-room, and when he told them that
the Secretary of War had given Tom the mule he wanted, Tom was
delighted. He promised the others that he would get to work early in the
morning to break him of kicking, and wanted them to come over and see
how it was done, and then turned away to his own camp, while Leon and
Dawson started out to find the camp of the rebel who was kept under
guard.
“There’s his lean-to right there,” said Leon, after walking some
distance up the road. “Do you see any comparison between that sentry and
the ones you left behind? I mean, do they sit down and warm themselves
by a fire when they are left on duty?”
“Not much, they don’t,” answered Dawson, with a laugh. “If you had our
officer of the day here he would snatch that fellow bald-headed. He
ought to get up, hold his arms at support and pace his beat.”
“Who is it that the officer of the day is going to snatch bald-headed?”
asked the sentry. He sat on a log with his rifle beside him, and he was
warming his hands over the fire. He seemed to think that he could see
everything that was going on, and he thought that was all that was
required of him.
“The officer of the rebel army, if there was one here, would take you to
task for not pacing your beat,” said Leon.
“Sho! What would he do that for?” asked the man. “That rebel hasn’t
moved in there without my seeing him, and he can’t get away. Say,
Johnny, are you asleep?”
“No; I am wide awake,” shouted a voice from the inside. “I wanted to see
the men that came back with that wagon-train. Well—halloo! Dawson,”
exclaimed the rebel, who, when he came out, caught sight of his old
comrade in arms. “You’re here, ain’t you?”
The two men shook hands as though they had not seen each other for
years. Dawson then explained how the capture was effected, and the
rebel’s eyes fairly flashed as he listened to it. When he ceased
speaking the rebel asked permission for Dawson to come under his lean-to
and share his blankets with him, and as the sentry did not find any
fault Leon readily granted it. When he had seen the two tuck themselves
away preparatory to a good sleep and had exchanged a few words with
their guard, Leon turned about and made the best of his way to the
hotel.