BERRY RECEIVES A MESSAGE
Lily’s “feather-bag,” as Berry called the receptacle in which the
negro girl so carefully stored each feather that she could secure, was
missing from her belt one morning, and Berry at once announced the
fact.
“Your feather-bag, Lily! Have you forgotten it?” she asked, as Lily
appeared at the corner of the cabin and stood watching Berry who was
busily engaged in transplanting woodland violets to the shady corner
of her garden.
“No, Missie Berry. I knows jes’ whar dat bag is. Yas’m, I’se got it
hid up safe,” Lily responded with her usual nods and chuckles. “I’se
got all de feathers I wants,” she added.
“Well, you must have nearly enough to stuff a pillow,” Berry declared,
wishing that Lily would tell her what she intended to do with the
treasured feathers, but Lily only repeated:
“Yas’m,” and Berry went on with her work. Lily immediately vanished,
and did not again appear until it was time for her to help with the
midday meal.
“I do wonder where Lily goes, and what she is up to,” Berry confided
to her mother. “Every day she suddenly disappears and is gone for
an hour or two. She always comes back looking as well pleased with
herself as if she had just discovered a pot of gold.”
“Why do you not ask her where she goes?” questioned Mrs. Arnold. “Very
likely she only goes off by herself for a nap, for she is up very
early each morning.”
“I have asked her,” Berry responded, “and she just chuckles and nods
and says that she hasn’t been anywhere. ‘Jes’ kinder perspectin’
’roun’’; that’s what she says, Mother.” And Mrs. Arnold smiled at
Berry’s imitation of Lily’s voice and manner. But it was only a few
days after this when Berry, coming into the sitting-room, discovered
Lily peeping out from Berry’s chamber.
“Lily! What are you doing in my room?” she called sharply, and the
surprised Lily gazed at her a little fearfully.
“I jes’ stepped in to take yo’ somefin’. Somefin’ ter s’prise yo’,”
she finally found courage to say, for Berry did not usually speak in
so sharp a tone, and Lily was sure that she herself was to blame. “I
wasn’t lookin’ fer yo’, Missie,” she went on, as if to excuse herself
for some fault, but Berry pushed past the negro girl and entered her
chamber. Her quick glance went straight to the dainty dressing-table
and with an admiring exclamation she ran across the room and stood
looking eagerly at the prettiest basket she had ever seen. It was
shaped like a shallow bowl, and at the first glance Berry thought it
was made entirely of feathers, but the feathers were only skilfully
woven in broad bands through the sweet-grass that formed the warp of
the basket. The woof was of the fragrant cedar roots; these Lily had
split and polished until they shone like silver bands.
It was indeed a beautiful piece of work, and Lily’s “surprise” was a
great success. The negro girl had never before been so praised and
thanked, and when Mr. and Mrs. Arnold were called to come and admire
“Lily’s basket,” and when they also said that it was the finest basket
they had ever seen, Lily was as happy as it was possible for a girl to
be.
“Who taught you, Lily?” questioned Mrs. Arnold, and Lily told of the
old negroes at the plantation from which she had fled, who were expert
basket makers.
“I hears tell dey learned ter make baskets ’fore dey was fetch to dis
country,” she said, and Mr. Arnold remembered having seen feather
baskets that were brought from Africa.
“And that’s what you wanted feathers for; and that’s what you have
been doing when I wondered where you were!” Berry exclaimed, and
she was now eager to learn how to make just such a basket, and Lily
promised to at once begin gathering more feathers.
The basket henceforth was one of Berry’s chief treasures, and years
afterward, in her New England home, she would often show it and tell
of Lily’s “feather-bag.”
As the days went on Berry was constantly discovering how many things
Lily knew.
“Not the same things I know,” she explained to her mother, “but
wonderful things. Lily can make all sorts of things out of tiny twigs;
she can make dolls and birds; long-legged cranes, that look just like
those that Father and I have seen along the river.” And Lily could
indeed twist the pliant willow twigs into many shapes, over which
Berry would laugh delightedly.
The spring days went rapidly by, and it was now months since the
Arnolds had received any word from their soldier son, Francis,
and visits to the post-box on the Corinth road only brought
disappointment. One morning, toward the end of March, after her
unfailing daily visit to the clump of Judas-trees, Berry decided to
visit the box and then to go on to the Braggs’ cabin and see if there
was any sign of the witch’s promise of Mollie’s speedy return coming
true.
Much to Berry’s surprise there was something in the box. But she
quickly discovered that it was not the hoped-for letter, for her
hand had closed on a smooth roll of birch-bark. Berry drew it out
and looked at it wonderingly. There were a number of queerly-shaped
letters traced on its smooth surface.
“I wonder who put this in our box?” she said aloud, and then suddenly
she waved the bark triumphantly and exclaimed, “Mollie! Mollie did it.
She makes letters just that way. This means Mollie’s home!” and Berry
started off toward the wood road leading to the Braggs’ cabin, sure
that Mollie would come running to welcome her, and thinking happily
of all she would have to tell and of all Mollie’s probable adventures
of which she would hear. She looked eagerly for some trace of smoke
rising from the cabin chimney, but there was none to be seen, and as
she came to the rough clearing about the cabin Berry stopped suddenly.
“They’re not there!” she exclaimed; for the windows were still boarded
over and there was no sign that the dilapidated cabin was again
inhabited. Berry, standing near a sheltering clump of fir trees,
felt almost ready to cry over her disappointment. She still held the
roll of bark in her hand, and now again looked at it. The letters
M. and B. were clumsily traced with a bit of charcoal on the smooth
surface of the bark, and were followed by the lines and curves such as
Mollie had drawn on the slate during the lesson hour in the Arnolds’
sitting-room. “I am sure Mollie wrote these,” Berry whispered, “and
that she put them in our box as a message to me. She must have been
here;” and Berry’s eyes again turned anxiously toward the cabin, but
there was nothing to be seen to indicate that the Braggs had returned.
Berry decided that she would go home by a woodland trail that led
from the back of the cabin through a thick growth of forest trees
toward the stream which ran down from the Shiloh plateau, and she
walked slowly across the clearing and to the back of the cabin. Her
moccasin-covered feet made no noise, and as she turned the corner of
the cabin she heard the familiar voice of Mrs. Bragg and saw that the
back door was ajar. Berry’s first impulse was to run toward the open
door, but at that moment she heard Mrs. Bragg say, “No, Mollie! How
many times must I tell ye that yer can’t see Berry Arnold? Didn’ yer
Pa warn us ter keep ter ourselves till he lets us know which army’s
gwine ter win? I reckon we kin stan’ bein’ a little hungry, an’ I
reckon Berry’s fergot ye ’fore this!”
“Oh! Mrs. Bragg! I haven’t!” Berry exclaimed, darting forward and
pushing open the cabin door. “Why don’t you want us to know you are
home? Oh, Mollie! I’m so glad to see you!” and Berry ran toward the
thin little figure that, at the sound of her voice, had jumped up from
the wooden stool in a far corner of the room.
“Oh! Berry! Berry!” sobbed Mollie, as she felt Berry’s firm arms
holding her tightly; and for a moment the two little friends quite
forgot Mrs. Bragg and everything except the joy of seeing each other
again. It was Mollie who spoke first. “My nice dress is spoiled,”
she said, and Berry’s swift glance noticed that the serge skirt had
evidently been torn and clumsily mended, and the blouse showed that it
had received hard wear. The kitchen was cold and dark, and Mrs. Bragg
explained that Mr. Bragg had warned her not to start a fire for fear
some wandering spy might discover that the cabin was inhabited.
“Steve says Corinth is chuck full of Confederate soldiers and that
the Yankee soldiers have landed at Crump’s Landing, not more’n ten
miles from here; the Yanks tore up a good stretch of railroad between
Corinth an’ Columbus, an’ Steve says thar’s more Yanks on the march
from Columbia; an’ Steve jes’ put off ter the mountains. He’ll cum
back soon’s these pesky armies goes off,” Mrs. Bragg explained, as
if thinking it only natural that Steve should flee from any possible
danger.
“But we have fires, Mrs. Bragg; and no American soldier, Confederate
or Yankee, would harm you,” Berry declared. “Why, Mrs. Bragg, perhaps
your own boy, Len, might get a chance to come and see you if the
Confederates come this way; and if the cabin is all shut up he would
think you had all gone away, and he would go off and you wouldn’t see
him,” said Berry eagerly.
For a moment Mrs. Bragg stared at her little visitor in amazement;
then, moving toward the fireplace, she exclaimed, “My lan’! That be
the very truth. Yo’ gals fetch me some kindlin’-wood an’ I’ll start up
a blaze. An’ I’ll wrench them boards off’n the windows and open the
front door——” But a shrill scream from Mollie brought her mother’s
plans to a sudden end. Looking toward the open door Mollie had
discovered a stranger; a young negro boy stood there peering anxiously
into the cabin; for Lily never permitted Berry to be long out of her
sight and had followed her to the post-box and then on to the Braggs’
cabin.
“It’s only Lily!” Berry explained. “She is living with us, and wearing
Francis’s old clothes because they are easier to go about the woods
in.”
“Dat’s so!” agreed Lily solemnly, looking first at Mollie and then at
Mrs. Bragg.
“I declar’!” exclaimed Mrs. Bragg. “Wal, then she can take hold and
holp us git this cabin fit ter live in. Ter think I didn’t project
Len comin’ this way!” and Mrs. Bragg was now as eager to get a fire
started, to open the windows, and give the cabin the look of being
in use as, a few hours earlier, she had been to hide away from any
possible visitor.
“It’s a blessin’ you happened this way, Berry!” she declared. “Yo’
jes’ tuck that roll of nice birch-bark under those sticks,” she added,
noticing the roll of bark, on which Mollie’s message was traced, that
Berry still held.
With a smiling glance at Mollie, Berry promptly obeyed, and in a
moment the bark blazed up, the kindlings caught fire, and a cheerful
glow and warmth filled the room. With the help of Berry and Lily the
boards were taken from the cabin windows and Mrs. Bragg did her best
to put the poor rooms in order. When Berry declared it was time for
her to start for home Mrs. Bragg cheerfully consented for Mollie to go
with her, and with Lily close behind them, the two little friends made
their way along the forest trail.
Berry listened eagerly to Mollie’s story of the wandering life the
Braggs had led since leaving their cabin.
“We visited Paw’s cousin first,” Mollie explained, “but he wanted Paw
to jine up with the Tennessee sojers an’ go ter Corinth, but Paw don’
b’lieve in fightin’, so we went on. We lived in a cave fer a spell.
An’, Berry, mos’ days I’ve bin hungry!” concluded the poor little
mountain girl, looking up at her friend as if appealing for protection.
“Well! you shan’t be hungry again, Mollie!” Berry promised. “And we
have lots of new maple syrup; and I’ll ask Mother to make batter-cakes
for our dinner to-day!”
Mollie’s pale eyes brightened at this unexpected delight. She was sure
her troubles were over now that Berry was with her.
“I hoped you could read what I wrote on the birch-bark,” she said,
as they came in sight of the Arnolds’ cabin. “I put it in the box
day before yesterday. Oh, Berry! I’m so glad we have a fire in our
kitchen,” she added solemnly, with a little shiver in remembrance of
the dark, chilly cabin where she and her mother had remained in hiding
for several days without warmth or light.
Mrs. Arnold gave Mollie a warm welcome, and when, late that
afternoon, the little girl started for home, Lily, carrying a basket
filled with food, went with her; and Berry promised to be at the
brook, in the place where she and Mollie always planned to meet, by an
early hour the next forenoon.
That evening Berry told her mother and father the story of the Braggs’
wanderings, and of the hardships Mollie and her mother had suffered.
“Wouldn’t it be fine if Len could only come home and help them?” said
Berry, as she finished the story.
“He may be here at any time, for his regiment is probably in Corinth,”
Mr. Arnold responded gravely. “I do not believe the Confederates mean
to wait for Grant’s army to attack them. The spies of General Johnston
and General Beauregard will keep them informed each day of the advance
of General Buell’s troops. Beauregard is used to winning; with the
laurels of Fort Sumter and Manassas fresh in his mind he may decide to
advance upon Grant’s forces at once. Len Bragg is with Beauregard’s
army, and may find himself near home any day.”
“That will be splendid!” Berry declared, smiling happily at the
thought of the pleasure of Mollie and Mrs. Bragg if Len should
suddenly appear.
But Mr. Arnold shook his head.
“Anything but that, Berry,” he replied. “If Beauregard’s army
surprises the forces of Grant and Buell it might mean the capture of
the Army of the Cumberland. The Confederate troops must be nearly
equal in numbers to those of the Union forces. If Beauregard could
take Grant by surprise it would indeed be a sad day for the Union
cause.”
Berry listened soberly. She well knew that her brother Francis was
fighting for the cause of the Union that slavery might cease to exist
and the United States remain an undivided nation. She now began to
realize that war might come very near her cabin home; that General
Grant’s men, marching toward Corinth, might be surprised and captured
by the daring and triumphant Beauregard. And that night Berry resolved
to henceforth keep a sharp outlook for possible Confederate spies, or
for any evidence of marching troops along the Corinth road.
“If I could let General Grant know that Confederates were on the
march, then Beauregard could not surprise him,” thought Berry,
remembering that she knew all the forest trails and woodland roads,
and that, if she kept a sharp watch, no body of soldiers could reach
Pittsburg Landing, where her father believed Grant would land his
soldiers, over either of the Corinth roads without her seeing them.
“And no one can run faster than I can. I could get to the Union camp
long before the Confederates, and then General Grant would be ready,”
she thought, not realizing any of the dangers in store for such a
messenger just before an impending battle.
“I’ll go to the top of the ridge twice every day, and I’ll make Lily
promise to keep a sharp watch,” resolved Berry.
At first the little girl thought she would tell her mother and father
of her plan; but she remembered her father’s caution in regard to
keeping out of sight of wayfarers along the trails, and said to
herself, “I’ll wait until I have seen real soldiers. Perhaps until
after I have seen General Grant himself. I guess my father will be
proud if I run faster than any Confederate soldier.” And so Berry
confided her new resolve to no one but Lily; and the colored girl
proved the best possible assistant.