Produced by Ken Reeder. HTML version by Al Haines.
THE TREE OF APPOMATTOX A STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR'S CLOSE
by JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER
This book, now in the public domain in the USA, was originally:
COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Copyright, 1944, By Sallie B. Altsheler
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
APPLETON-CENTURY-CROFTS, INC.
NEW YORK
FOREWORD
"The Tree of Appomattox" concludes the series of connected romances
dealing with the Civil War, begun in "The Guns of Bull Run," and
continued successively through "The Guns of Shiloh," "The Scouts of
Stonewall," "The Sword of Antietam," "The Star of Gettysburg," "The
Rock of Chickamauga" and "The Shades of the Wilderness" to the present
volume. It has been completed at the expense of vast labor, and the
author has striven at all times to be correct, wherever facts are
involved. So far, at least, no historic detail has been challenged by
critic or reader.
More than half a century has passed since the Civil War's close. Not
many of the actors in it are left. It was one of the most tremendous
upheavals in the life of any nation, and it was the greatest of all
struggles, until the World War began, but scarcely any trace of
partisan rancor or bitterness is left. So, it has become easier to
write of it with a sense of fairness and detachment, and the lapse of
time has made the perspective clear and sharp.
However lacking he may be in other respects, the author perhaps had an
advantage in being born, and having grown up in a border state, where
sentiment was about equally divided concerning the Civil War. He was
surrounded during his early youth by men who fought on one side or the
other, and their stories of camp, march and battle were almost a part
of the air he breathed. So he hopes that this circumstance has aided
him to give a truthful color to the picture of the mighty combat, waged
for four such long and terrible years.
THE CIVIL WAR SERIES
VOLUMES IN THE CIVIL WAR SERIES
THE GUNS OF BULL RUN.
THE GUNS OF SHILOH.
THE SCOUTS OF STONEWALL.
THE SWORD OF ANTIETAM.
THE STAR OF GETTYSBURG.
THE ROCK OF CHICKAMAUGA.
THE SHADES OF THE WILDERNESS.
THE TREE OF APPOMATTOX.
PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN THE CIVIL WAR SERIES
HARRY KENTON, A Lad Who Fights on the Southern Side.
DICK MASON, Cousin of Harry Kenton, Who Fights on the Northern Side.
COLONEL GEORGE KENTON, Father of Harry Kenton.
MRS. MASON, Mother of Dick Mason.
JULIANA, Mrs. Mason's Devoted Colored Servant.
COLONEL ARTHUR WINCHESTER, Dick Mason's Regimental Commander.
COLONEL LEONIDAS TALBOT, Commander of the Invincibles,
a Southern Regiment.
LIEUTENANT COLONEL HECTOR ST. HILAIRE, Second in Command of the
Invincibles.
ALAN HERTFORD, A Northern Cavalry Leader.
PHILIP SHERBURNE, A Southern Cavalry Leader.
WILLIAM J. SHEPARD, A Northern Spy.
DANIEL WHITLEY, A Northern Sergeant and Veteran of the Plains.
GEORGE WARNER, A Vermont Youth Who Loves Mathematics.
FRANK PENNINGTON, A Nebraska Youth, Friend of Dick Mason.
ARTHUR ST. CLAIR, A Native of Charleston, Friend of Harry Kenton.
TOM LANGDON, Friend of Harry Kenton.
GEORGE DALTON, Friend of Harry Kenton.
BILL SKELLY, Mountaineer and Guerrilla.
TOM SLADE, A Guerrilla Chief.
SAM JARVIS, The Singing Mountaineer.
IKE SIMMONS, Jarvis' Nephew.
AUNT "SUSE," A Centenarian and Prophetess.
BILL PETTY, A Mountaineer and Guide.
JULIEN DE LANGEAIS, A Musician and Soldier from Louisiana.
JOHN CARRINGTON, Famous Northern Artillery Officer.
DR. RUSSELL, Principal of the Pendleton School.
ARTHUR TRAVERS, A Lawyer.
JAMES BERTRAND, A Messenger from the South.
JOHN NEWCOMB, A Pennsylvania Colonel.
JOHN MARKHAM, A Northern Officer.
JOHN WATSON, A Northern Contractor.
WILLIAM CURTIS, A Southern Merchant and Blockade Runner.
MRS. CURTIS, Wife of William Curtis.
HENRIETTA CARDEN, A Seamstress in Richmond.
DICK JONES, A North Carolina Mountaineer.
VICTOR WOODVILLE, A Young Mississippi Officer.
JOHN WOODVILLE, Father of Victor Woodville.
CHARLES WOODVILLE, Uncle of Victor Woodville.
COLONEL BEDFORD, A Northern Officer.
CHARLES GORDON, A Southern Staff Officer.
JOHN LANHAM, An Editor.
JUDGE KENDRICK, A Lawyer.
MR. CULVER, A State Senator.
MR. BRACKEN, A Tobacco Grower.
ARTHUR WHITRIDGE, A State Senator.
HISTORICAL CHARACTERS
ABRAHAM LINCOLN, President of the United States.
JEFFERSON DAVIS, President of the Southern Confederacy.
JUDAH P. BENJAMIN, Member of the Confederate Cabinet.
U. S. GRANT, Northern Commander.
ROBERT E. LEE, Southern Commander.
STONEWALL JACKSON, Southern General.
PHILIP H. SHERIDAN, Northern General.
GEORGE H. THOMAS, "The Rock of Chickamauga."
ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON, Southern General.
A. P. HILL, Southern General.
W. S. HANCOCK, Northern General.
GEORGE B. McCLELLAN, Northern General.
AMBROSE E. BURNSIDE, Northern General.
TURNER ASHBY, Southern Cavalry Leader.
J. E. B. STUART, Southern Cavalry Leader.
JOSEPH HOOKER, Northern General.
RICHARD S. EWELL, Southern General.
JUBAL EARLY, Southern General.
WILLIAM S. ROSECRANS, Northern General.
SIMON BOLIVAR BUCKNER, Southern General.
LEONIDAS POLK, Southern General and Bishop.
BRAXTON BRAGG, Southern General.
NATHAN BEDFORD FORREST, Southern Cavalry Leader.
JOHN MORGAN, Southern Cavalry Leader.
GEORGE J. MEADE, Northern General.
DON CARLOS BUELL, Northern General.
W. T. SHERMAN, Northern General.
JAMES LONGSTREET, Southern General.
P. G. T. BEAUREGARD, Southern General.
WILLIAM L. YANCEY, Alabama Orator.
JAMES A. GARFIELD, Northern General, afterwards President of
the United States.
And many others
IMPORTANT BATTLES DESCRIBED IN THE CIVIL WAR SERIES
BULL RUN
KERNSTOWN
CROSS KEYS
WINCHESTER
PORT REPUBLIC
THE SEVEN DAYS
MILL SPRING
FORT DONELSON
SHILOH
PERRYVILLE
STONE RIVER
THE SECOND MANASSAS
ANTIETAM
FREDERICKSBURG
CHANCELLORSVILLE
GETTYSBURG
CHAMPION HILL
VICKSBURG
CHICKAMAUGA
MISSIONARY RIDGE
THE WILDERNESS
SPOTTSYLVANIA
COLD HARBOR
FISHER'S HILL
CEDAR CREEK
APPOMATTOX
CONTENTS
I. THE APPLE TREE
II. THE WOMAN AT THE HOUSE
III. OVER THE HILLS
IV. THE FIGHT AT THE CROSSWAYS
V. AN OLD ENEMY
VI. THE FISHERMEN
VII. SHERIDAN'S ATTACK
VIII. THE MESSENGER FROM RICHMOND
IX. AT GRIPS WITH EARLY
X. AN UNBEATEN FOE
XI. CEDAR CREEK
XII. IN THE COVE
XIII. DICK'S GREAT EXPLOIT
XIV. THE MOUNTAIN SHARPSHOOTER
XV. BACK WITH GRANT
XVI. THE CLOSING DAYS
XVII. APPOMATTOX
XVIII. THE FINAL RECKONING
CHAPTER I
THE APPLE TREE
Although he was an officer in full uniform he was a youth in years, and
he had the spirits of youth. Moreover, it was one of the finest apple
trees he had ever seen and the apples hung everywhere, round, ripe and
red, fairly asking to be taken and eaten. Dick Mason looked up at them
longingly. They made him think of the orchards at home in his own
state, and a touch of coolness in the air sharpened his appetite for
them all the more.
"If you want 'em so badly, Dick," said Warner, "why don't you climb the
tree and get 'em? There's plenty for you and also for Pennington and
me."
"I see. You're as anxious for apples as I am, and you wish me to
gather 'em for you by making a strong appeal to my own desires. It's
your clever New England way."
"We're forbidden to take anything from the people, but it won't hurt to
keep a few apples from rotting on the ground. If you won't get 'em
Pennington will."
"I understand you, George. You're trying to play Frank against me,
while you keep yourself safe. You'll go far. Never mind. I'll gather
apples for us all."
He leaped up, caught the lowest bough, swung himself lightly into the
fork, and then climbing a little higher, reached for the reddest and
ripest apples, which he flung down in a bountiful supply.
"Now, gluttons," he said, "satiate yourselves, but save a lot for me."
Then he went up as far as the boughs would sustain him and took a look
over the country. Apple trees do not grow very tall, but Dick's tree
stood on the highest point in the orchard, and he had a fine view, a
view that was in truth the most remarkable the North American continent
had yet afforded.
He always carried glasses over his shoulder, and lately Colonel
Winchester had made him a gift of a splendid pair, which he now put
into use, sweeping the whole circle of the horizon. With their
powerful aid he was able to see the ancient city of Petersburg, where
Lee had thrown himself across Grant's path in order to block his way to
Richmond, the Southern capital, and had dug long lines of trenches in
which his army lay. It was Lee who first used this method of defense
for a smaller force against a larger, and the vast trench warfare of
Europe a half century later was a repetition of the mighty struggle of
Lee and Grant on the lines of Petersburg.
Dick through his glasses saw the trenches, lying like a brown bar
across the green country, and opposite them another brown bar, often
less than a hundred yards away, which marked where the Northern troops
also had dug in. The opposing lines extended a distance of nearly
forty miles, and Richmond was only twenty miles behind them. It was
the nearest the Army of the Potomac had come to the Southern capital
since McClellan had seen the spires of its churches, and that was more
than two years away.
Warner and Pennington were lying on the ground, eating big red apples
with much content and looking up lazily at Mason.
"You're curving those glasses about a lot. What do you see, Dick?"
asked Pennington at length.
"I see Petersburg, an old, old town, half buried in foliage, and with
many orchards and gardens about it. A pity that two great armies
should focus on such a pleasant place."
"No time for sentiment, Dick. What else do you see?"
"Jets of smoke and flame from the trenches, an irregular sort of
firing, sometimes a half-dozen shots at one place, and then a long and
peaceful break until you come to another place, where they're
exchanging bullets."
"What more do you see, Brother Richard?"
"I see a Johnny come out of his trench hands up and advance toward one
of our Yanks opposite, who also has come out of his trench hands up."
"What are they trading?" asked Warner.
"The Reb offers a square of plug tobacco, and the Yank a bundle of
newspapers. Now they've made the exchange, now they've shaken hands
and each is going back to his own trench."
"It's a merry world, my masters, as has been said before," resumed
Warner, "but I should add that it's also a mad wag of a world. Here we
are face to face for forty miles, at some points seeking to kill one
another in a highly impersonal way, and at other points conducting sale
and barter according to the established customs of peace. People at
home wouldn't believe it, and later on a lot more won't believe it,
when the writers come to write about it. But it's true just the same.
What else do you see from the apple tower, Brother Richard?"
"A long line of wagons approaching a camp some distance behind the
Confederate trenches. They must be loaded pretty heavily, because the
drivers are cracking their whips over the horses and mules."
"That's bad. Provisions, I suppose," said Warner. "The more these
Johnnies get to eat the harder they fight, and they're not supposed to
be receiving supplies now. Our cavalry ought to have cut off that
wagon train. I shall have to speak to Sheridan about it. This is no
way to starve the Johnnies to death. Seest aught more, Brother
Richard?"
"I do! I do! Jump up, boys, and use your own glasses! I behold a
large man on a gray horse, riding slowly along, as if he were
inspecting troops away behind the trenches. Wherever he passes the
soldiers snatch off their caps and, although I can't hear 'em, I know
they're cheering. It's Lee himself!"
Both Warner and Pennington swung themselves upon the lower boughs of
the tree and put their glasses to their eyes.
"It's surely Lee," said Warner. "I'm glad to get a look at him. He's
been giving us a lot of trouble for more than three years now, but I
think General Grant is going to take his measure."
"They're terribly reduced," said Pennington, "and if we stick to it
we're bound to win. Still, you boys will recall for some time that
we've had a war. What else do you see from the heights of the apple
tree, Dick?"
"Distant dust behind our own lines, and figures moving in it dimly.
Cavalry practicing, I should say. Have you fellows fruit enough?"
"Plenty. You can climb down and if the farmer hurries here with his
dog to catch you we'll protect you."
"This is a fine apple tree," said Dick, as he descended slowly. "Apple
trees are objects of beauty. They look so well in the spring all in
white bloom, and then they look just as well in the fall, when the red
or yellow apples hang among the leaves. And this is one of the finest
I've ever seen."
He did not dream then that he should remember an apple tree his whole
life, that an apple tree, and one apple tree in particular, should
always call to his mind a tremendous event, losing nothing of its
intensity and vividness with the passing years. But all that was in
the future, and when he joined his comrades on the ground he made good
work with the biggest and finest apple he could find.
"Early apples," he said, looking up at the tree. "It's not the end of
July yet."
"But good apples, glorious apples, anyhow," said Pennington, taking
another. "Besides, it's fine and cool like autumn."
"It won't stay," said Dick. "We've got the whole of August coming.
Virginia is like Kentucky. Always lots of hot weather in August. Glad
there's no big fighting to be done just now. But it's a pity, isn't
it, to tear up a fine farming country like this. Around here is where
the United States started. John Smith and Rolfe and Pocahontas and the
rest of them may have roamed just where this orchard stands. And later
on lots of the great Americans rode about these parts, some of the
younger ones carrying their beautiful ladies on pillions behind them.
You are a cold-blooded New Englander, Warner, and you believe that
anyone fighting against you ought to burn forever, but as for me I feel
sorry for Virginia. I don't care what she's done, but I don't like to
see the Old Dominion, the Mother of Presidents, stamped flat."
"I'm not cold-blooded at all, but I don't gush. I don't forget that
this state produced George Washington, but I want victory for our side
just the same, no matter how much of Virginia we may have to tread
down. Is that farm house over there still empty?"
"Of course, or we wouldn't have taken the apples. It belongs to a man
named Haynes, and he left ahead of us with his family for Richmond. I
fancy it will be a long time before Haynes and his people sleep in
their own rooms again. Come, fellows, we'd better be going back.
Colonel Winchester is kind to us, but he doesn't want his officers to
be prowling about as they please too long."
They walked together toward the edge of the orchard and looked at the
farm house, from the chimneys of which no smoke had risen in weeks.
Dick felt sure it would be used later on as headquarters by some
general and his staff, but for the present it was left alone. And
being within the Union lines no plunderer had dared to touch it.
It was a two-story wooden house, painted white, with green shutters,
all closed now. The doors were also locked and sealed until such time
as the army authorities wished to open them, but on the portico, facing
the Southern lines were two benches, on which the three youths sat, and
looked again over the great expanse of rolling country, dotted at
intervals by puffs of smoke from the long lines of trenches. Where
they sat it was so still that they could hear the faint crackle of the
distant rifles, and now and then the heavier crash of a cannon.
Dick's mind went back to the Wilderness and its gloomy shades, the
sanguinary field of Spottsylvania, and then the terrific mistake of
Cold Harbor. The genius of Lee had never burned more brightly. He had
handled his diminishing forces with all his old skill and resolution,
but Grant had driven on and on. No matter what his losses the North
always filled up his ranks again, and poured forward munitions and
supplies in a vast and unbroken stream. A nation had summoned all its
powers for a supreme effort to win, and Dick felt that the issue of the
war was not now in doubt. The genius of Lee and the bravery of his
devoted army could no longer save the South. The hammer strokes of
Grant would surely crush it.
And then what? He had the deepest sympathy for these people of
Virginia. What would become of them after the war? Defeat for the
South meant nearer approach to destruction than any nation had suffered
in generations. To him, born south of the Ohio River, and so closely
united by blood with these people, victory as well as defeat had its
pangs.
Warner and Pennington rose and announced that they would return to the
regiment which was held in reserve in a little valley below, but Dick,
their leave not having run out yet, decided to stay a while longer.
"So long," said Warner. "Let the orchard alone. Leave apples for
others. Remember that they are protected by strict orders against all
wandering and irresponsible officers, but ourselves."
"Yes, be good, Dick," said Pennington, and the two went down the slope,
leaving Dick on the portico. He liked being alone at times. The
serious cast of mind that he had inherited from his famous great
grandfather, Paul Cotter, demanded moments of meditation. It was
peaceful too on the portico, and a youth who had been through Grant's
Wilderness campaign, a month of continuous and terrible fighting, was
glad to rest for a while.
The distant rifle fire and the occasional cannon shot had no
significance and did not disturb him. They blended now with the breeze
that blew among the leaves of the apple trees. He had never felt more
like peace, and the pleasant open country was soothing to the eye.
What a contrast to that dark and sodden Wilderness where men fought
blindly in the dusk. He shuddered as he remembered the forests set on
fire by the shells, and burning over the fallen.
A light step aroused him and a large man sat down on the bench beside
him. Dick often wondered at the swift and almost noiseless tread of
Shepard, with whom he was becoming well acquainted. He was tall, built
powerfully and must have weighed two hundred pounds, yet he moved with
the ease and grace of a boy of sixteen. Dick thought it must come from
his trade.
"I don't want to intrude, Mr. Mason," said Shepard, "but I saw you
sitting here, looking perhaps too grave and thoughtful for one of your
years."
"You're most welcome, Mr. Shepard, and I was thinking, that is in a
vague sort of way."
"I saw your face and you were wondering what was to become of Virginia
and the Virginians."
"So I was, but how did you know it?"
"I didn't know it. It was just a guess, and the guess was due to the
fact that I was having the same thoughts myself."
"So you regard the war as won?" asked Dick, who had a great respect for
Shepard's opinion.
"If the President keeps General Grant in command, as he will, it's a
certainty, but it will take a long time yet. We can't force those
trenches down there. Remember what Cold Harbor cost us."
Dick shuddered.
"I remember it," he said.
"It would be worse if we tried to storm Lee's lines. After Cold Harbor
the general won't attempt it, and I see a long wait here. But we can
afford it. The South grows steadily weaker. Our blockade clamps like
a steel band, and presses tighter and tighter all the time. Food is
scarce in the Confederacy. So is ammunition. They receive no
recruits, and every day the army of Lee is smaller in numbers than it
was the day before."
"You go into Richmond, Mr. Shepard. I've heard from high officers that
you do. How do they feel there with our army only about twenty miles
away?"
"They're quiet and seem to be confident, but I believe they know their
danger."
"Have you by any chance seen or heard of my cousin, Harry Kenton, who
is a lieutenant on the staff of the Southern commander-in-chief?"
Shepard smiled, as if the question brought memories that pleased him.
"A fine youth," he said. "Yes, I've seen him more than once. I'm free
to tell you, Lieutenant Mason, that I know a lot about this rebel
cousin of yours. He and I have come into conflict on several
occasions, and I did not win every time."
"Nobody could beat Harry always," exclaimed Dick with youthful loyalty.
"He was always the strongest and most active among us, and the best in
forest and water. He could hunt and fish and trail like the scouts of
our border days."
"I found him in full possession of all these qualities and he used them
against me. I should grieve if that cousin of yours were to fall, Mr.
Mason. I want to know him still better after the war."
Dick would have asked further questions about the encounters between
Harry and the spy, but he judged that Shepard did not care to answer
them, and he forbore. Yet the man aroused the most intense curiosity
in him. There were spies and spies, and Shepard was one of them, but he
was not like the others. He was unquestionably a man of great mental
power. His calm, steady gaze and his words to the point showed it. No
one patronized Shepard.
"I should like to go into Richmond with you some dark night," said
Dick, who hid a strong spirit of adventure under his quiet exterior.
"You're not serious, Lieutenant Mason?"
"I wasn't, maybe, when I began to say it, but I believe I am now. Why
shouldn't I be curious about Richmond, a place that great armies have
been trying to take for three years? Just at present it's the center
of the world to me in interest."
"You must not think of such a thing, Mr. Mason. Detection means
certain death."
"No more for me than for you."
"But I have had a long experience and I have resources of which you
can't know. Don't think of it again, Mr. Mason."
"I was merely jesting. I won't," said Dick.
He involuntarily looked toward the point beyond the horizon where
Richmond lay, and Shepard meanwhile studied him closely. Young Mason
had not come much under his notice until lately, but now he began to
interest the spy greatly. Shepard observed what a strong, well-built
young fellow he was, tall and slender but extremely muscular. He also
bore a marked resemblance to his cousin, Harry Kenton, and such was the
quality of Shepard that the likeness strongly recommended Dick to him.
Moreover, he read the lurking thought that persisted in Dick's mind.
"You mustn't dream of such a thing as entering Richmond, Mr. Mason," he
said.
"It was just a passing thought. But aren't you going in again?"
"Later on, no doubt, but not just now. I understand that we're
planning some movement. I don't know what it is, but I'm to wait here
until it's over. Good-by, Mr. Mason. Since things are closing in it's
possible that you and I will see more of each other than before."
"Of course, when I'm personally conducted by you on that trip into
Richmond."
Shepard, who had left the portico, turned and shook a warning finger.
"Dismiss that absolutely and forever from your mind, Mr. Mason," he
said.
Dick laughed, and watched the stalwart figure of the spy as he strode
away. Again the singular ease and lightness of his step struck him. To
the lad's fancy the grass did not bend under his feet. Upon Dick as
upon Harry, Shepard made the impression of power, not only of strength
but of subtlety and courage.
"I'm glad that man's on our side," said Dick to himself, as Shepard's
figure disappeared among the trees. Then he left the portico and went
down in the valley to Colonel Winchester's regiment, where he was
received with joyous shouts by several young men, including Warner and
Pennington, who had gone on before. Colonel Winchester himself smiled
and nodded, and Dick saluted respectfully.
The Winchesters, as they loved to call themselves, were faring well at
this particular time. Like the Invincibles on the other side, this
regiment had been decimated and filled up again several times. It had
lost heavily in the Wilderness and at Spottsylvania, but its colonel
had escaped without serious hurt and had received special mention for
gallantry and coolness. It had been cut up once more at Cold Harbor,
and because of its great services and losses it was permitted to remain
a while in the rear as a reserve, and obtain the rest it needed so
sorely.
The brave youths were recovering fast from their wounds and exertions.
Their camp was beside a clear brook and there were tents for the
officers, though they were but seldom used, most of them, unless it
should be raining, preferring to sleep in their blankets under the
trees. The water was good to drink, and farther down were several deep
pools in which they bathed. Food, as usual in the Northern army, was
good and plentiful, and for the Winchesters it seemed more a period of
play than of war.
"What did you see at the house, Dick?" asked Colonel Winchester.
"The spy, Shepard. I talked a while with him. He says the Confederacy
is growing weaker every day, but if we try to storm Lee's lines we'll
be cut to pieces."
"I think he's right in both respects, although I feel sure that some
kind of a movement will soon be attempted. But Dick, a mail from the
west has arrived and here is a letter for you."
He handed the lad a large square envelope, addressed in tall, slanting
script, and Dick knew at once that it was from his mother. He seized
it eagerly, and Colonel Winchester, suppressing the wish to know what
was inside, turned away.
* * * *
I have not heard from my dearest boy since the terrible battles in the
east [Mrs. Mason wrote], but I hope and pray that you have come safely
through them. You have escaped so many dangers that I feel you must
escape all the rest. The news reaches us that the fighting in Virginia
has been of the most dreadful character, but when it arrives in
Pendleton it has two meanings. Those of our little town who are for
the Confederacy say General Grant's losses have been so enormous that
he can go no farther, and that the last and greatest effort of the
North has failed.
Those who sympathize with the Union say General Lee has been reduced so
greatly that he must be crushed soon and with him the Confederacy. As
you know, I wish the latter to be true, but I suspect that the truth is
somewhere between the two statements.
But the truth either way brings me great grief. I cannot hate the
Southern people. We are Southern ourselves in all save this war, and,
although our dear little town is divided in feeling, I have received
nothing but kindness from those on the other side. Dr. Russell often
asks about you. He says you were the best Latin scholar in the
Academy, and he expects you to have a great future, as a learned man,
after the war. He speaks oftenest of you and Harry Kenton, and I
believe that you two were his favorite pupils. He says that Harry's is
the best mathematical mind he has ever found in his long years of
teaching.
Your room remains just as it was when you left. Juliana brushes and
airs it every day, and expects at any time to see her young Master Dick
come riding home. She keeps in her mind two pictures of you,
absolutely unlike. In one of these pictures you are a great officer,
carrying much of the war's weight on your shoulders, consulted
continually by General Grant, who goes wrong only when he fails to take
your advice. In the other you are a little boy whom she alternately
scolds and pets. And it may be that I am somewhat like Juliana in this
respect.
The garden is very fine this year. The vegetables were never more
plentiful, and never of a finer quality. I wish you were here for your
share. It must be a trial to have to eat hard crackers and tough beef
and pork day after day. I should think that you would grow to hate the
sight of them. Sam, the colored man who has been with us so long, has
proved as faithful and trustworthy as Juliana. He makes a most
excellent farmer, and the yield of corn in the bottom land is going to
be amazing.
They say that since the Federal successes in the West the operations of
Skelly's band of guerrillas have become bolder, but he has not
threatened Pendleton again. They say also that a little farther south
a band of like character, who call themselves Southern, under a man
named Slade, are ravaging, but I suppose that you, who see great
generals and great armies daily, are not much concerned about outlaws.
Always keep your feet dry and warm if you can, and never fail to spread
a blanket between you and the damp grass. Give my respects to Colonel
Winchester. Tell him that we hear of him now and then in Kentucky and
that we hear only good. Don't forget about the blanket.
* * * *
There was more, but it was these passages over which Dick lingered
longest.
He read the letter three times--letters were rare in those years, and
men prized them highly--and put it away in his strongest pocket.
Colonel Winchester was standing by the edge of the brook, and Dick,
saluting him, said:
"My mother wishes me to deliver to you her respects and best wishes."
A flush showed through the tan of the colonel's face, and Dick,
noticing it, was startled by a sudden thought. At first his feeling
was jealousy, but it passed in an instant, never to come again. There
was no finer man in the world than Colonel Winchester.
"She is well," he added, "and affairs could go no better at Pendleton."
"I am glad," said Colonel Winchester simply. Then he turned to a man
with very broad shoulders and asked:
"How are the new lads coming on?"
"Very well, sir," replied Sergeant Daniel Whitley. "Some of 'em are a
little awkward yet, and a few are suffering from change of water, but
they're good boys and we can depend on 'em, sir, when the time comes."
"Especially since you have been thrashing 'em into shape for so many
days, sergeant."
"Thank you, sir."
An orderly came with a message for Colonel Winchester, who left at
once, but Dick and the sergeant, his faithful comrade and teacher,
stood beside the stream. They could easily see the bathers farther
down, splashing in the water, pulling one another under, and, now and
then, hurling a man bodily into the pool. They were all boys to the
veteran. Many of them had been trained by him, and his attitude toward
them was that of a school teacher toward his pupils.
"You have ears that hear everything, sergeant," said Dick. "What is
this new movement that I've heard two or three men speak of? Something
sudden they say."
"I've heard too," replied Sergeant Whitley, "but I can't guess it.
Whatever it is, though, it's coming soon. There's a lot of work going
on at a point farther down the line, but it's kept a secret from the
rest of us here."
The sergeant went away presently, and Dick, going down stream, joined
some other young officers in a pool. He lay on the bank afterward,
but, shortly after dark, Colonel Winchester returned, gave an order,
and the whole regiment marched away in the dusk. Dick felt sure that
the event Sergeant Whitley had predicted was about to happen, but the
colonel gave no hint of its nature, and he continued to wonder, as they
advanced steadily in the dusk.