TOILSOME PLODDING, AND "SHELBYVILLE ONLY 15 MILES AWAY."
IT SEEMS impossible, but the third day's rain was even worse than that
of the two preceding. The drops seemed much larger, to follow each other
faster, and with less interval between the downpours.
"Does it always rain this way in June down here?" Si asked a patriarch,
who was sitting on his porch by the roadside in a split-bottomed
rocking-chair, resting his bony hands on a cane, the head of which was a
ram's horn, smoking a corn-cob pipe and watching the passing column with
lack-luster eyes.
"Sah," said the sage, poking down the ashes in his pipe with his little
finger, "I've done lived in the Duck River Valley ever sence Capting
Jimmy Madison wuz elected President the fust time, and I never seed
sich a wet spell as this afore. I reckon hit's all along o' the wah. We
allers have a powerful sight o' rain in wah times. Hit rained powerful
when Jinerul Jackson wuz foutin' the Injuns down at Hoss Shoe Bend, and
the Summers durin' the Mexican war wuz mouty wet, but they didn't hold a
candle to what we're havin' this yeah. Hit's the shootin' and bangin', I
reckon, that jostles the clouds so's they can't hold in."
"How far is it to Shelbyville, Gran'pap?" asked Shorty.
[Illustration: 'DON'T CALL ME YOUR GRAN'PAP.' 35]
"Don't call me yer gran-pap," piped out the old man in angry falsetto,
and shaking his cane. "I won't stand hit. I won't stand everything. I've
had enough ter stand from you Yankees already. You've stole my chickens
an' robbed my smoke-house, an' run off my stock, an' I've done stood
hit, but I won't stan' bein' called gran'pap by ye. I've some mouty mean
grandsons, some that orter be in the penitentiary, but I hain't none
mean enough t' be in the Yankee army."
"We didn't mean no offense, sir," said Si placatingly. "We really don't
want you for a gran'father. We've got gran'fathers o' our own, and
they're very nice old men, that we wouldn't trade off for anything ever
raised in Tennessee. Have you anything to eat that you'll sell us? We'll
pay you for it."
"No, I haint got nothin' nary mite," quavered the old man. "Your men
an' our men have stole everything I have stock, cattle, sheep, hogs,
poultry, meat an' meal everything, except my bare land an' my hope o'
heaven. Thank God, none on ye kin steal them from me."
"Don't be too blamed sure about that, old feller," said Shorty. "Better
hide 'em. The Maumee Muskrats are jest behind us. They're the worst
thieves in the whole army. Don't let 'em know anything about your land
or your hope o' salvation, or they'll have it in their haversacks before
you kin wink."
"You haint told us yit how far it is to Shelbyville," said Si.
"Young man," said the sage oracularly, "that altogether depends.
Sometimes Shelbyville is mouty fur off, an' sometimes she is right here.
On bright, cl'ar days, when the roads is good, hit's only a few steps
over thar jest two sees an' a holler."
"What's that?" said Si. "Two sees an' a holler? How far is that?"
"He means," explained Shorty, "that you go as far as you kin see from
the highest hilltop to the next highest hill-top twice, and then it's
only about as much farther as your voice will reach."
"Jest so," asserted the patriarch. "I kin saddle my ole nag arter
dinner, rack over an' do some tradin', an' rack back agin in time for
supper. But 'when we have sich sorry weather as this, Shelbyville seems
on t' other side o' nowhar. You've got t' pull through the mud an' swim
every branch and crick, an' you're mouty lucky if you git thar in a
week."
"Why don't you build bridges over the creeks?" asked Si.
"Can't do hit when hit's rainin' an they're runnin' over thar banks."
"But why don't you do it when the weather's good?"
"What's the use? You kin git over all right then."
"Sir," said the Brigadier-General, riding up and addressing the old man,
"where does the Shakerag road come into the Bellbuckle road?"
Instantly the old man felt that he was being asked to give "aid and
information to the enemy," and his old eyes grew hard and his wrinkled
face set. "I don't know, sah."
"Yes, you do," said the Brigadier-General impatiently, "and I want you
to tell me."
"I don't know, sah," repeated the old man.
"Are there any works thrown up and any men out there on the Shakerag
road?" asked the Brigadier.
"I don't know, sah."
"Did a large body of rebels go past your house yesterday, and which road
did they take at the forks?" inquired the Brigadier.
"I don't know, sah."
The Brigadier-General was not in the best of humor, and he chafed
visibly at the old man's answers.
"Does not Goober Creek run down there about a mile in that direction?"
he again inquired, pointing with his field-glasses.
"I don't know, sah."
"How long have you lived here?" asked the Brigadier savagely.
"Nigh on to 55 year, sah."
"And you don't know where Goober Creek is, and which way it runs?" asked
the Brigadier, losing all patience.
"No, sah," responded the imperturbable old man.
"Well," said the Brigadier-General grimly, "it is high time that you
discovered that interesting stream. You might die without seeing it. Men
(to Si and Shorty) take him down that road about a mile, where you
will find a considerable body of water which I'm given to understand is
called Goober Creek. You'll show it to him in all its magnificence and
beauty. Geography is a very interesting study, old man, and it is not
too late for you to begin getting acquainted with your own country."
The bitter humor of taking a man through the mud and pouring rain to see
a creek that he had seen nearly every day of his life for a half-century
was such that all the men were in a mood to appreciate. Si and Shorty
entered into the affair with zest. They put a blanket on the old man's
shoulders, to shelter him from the rain. Such a thing as an umbrella had
never been in his house. Even the women would have looked upon it as a
piece of luxurious effeminacy.
The old fellow grumbled, expostulated, and protested, but if Si and
Shorty had had no other motive, orders direct from the Brigadier-General
would have been executed at any cost. It was the first time that they
had ever received orders from anybody higher than the Colonel, and the
effect upon them was extraordinary.
"What in the everlastin' kingdom," grumbled he, "kin your niggah-lovin'
Yankees expect t' gain by draggin' me out when hit's a-rainin' cats and
dogs?"
"Don't know nothin' about it," answered Si, catching him by the shoulder
to hurry him up. "'Tain't our business to know. We ain't paid for
knowin' anything more than orders, and hardly enough for that. A man
can't know much for $13 a month."
"'Twon't help yer niggeh-stealin' army a mite t' pi'nt out Goober Crick
t' me. I ain't gwine t' tote ye over nor show ye the fords."
"Don't care nothin' about that neither," replied Shorty, as they pushed
the old man along through the blinding 'rain. "Our orders is merely to
show you Goober Crick. 'Tain't none o' our business what the General
wants you to see it for. Mebbe he thinks it 'll improve your mind to
gaze on the beauties o' nature. Mebbe he thinks you need exercise. Mebbe
he thinks a shower-bath'd do you good."
The column had been checked by some difficulty in front, and as the boys
conveyed their charge through the ranks of waiting men it seemed that
everybody understood what they were doing, and volleys of sarcasm were
flung at their prisoner. There were inquiries as to how he liked the
study of geography as far as he had gotten; whether he would continue
it in more favorable weather, and whether this primary lesson would be
followed by others on the road to the mill, the path to the stable, and
the way to the spring. If the old man had not already been as angry as
he could be, his temper would have risen.
After a lot of toilsome plodding through the rain and mud which the
passing wagons had made fathomless, they came to the top of a high hill,
from which they could look down on a turbid sweep of yellow water, about
half a mile away, which filled nearly the whole valley.
The reason of delay was at once apparent. The insignificant stream had
suddenly become an almost impassable obstacle. Men were riding carefully
across the submerged bottom land, prodding with poles, to pick out
crossings. Others were digging down approaches to what seemed promising
crossings, and making rude bridges across gullies and smaller streams
that intervened.
It seemed that the fresh young Aid with whom the boys had the encounter
the day before had in some mysterious way gained charge of the advance.
He had graduated into the Engineer Corps from West Point, and here was
an opportunity to display his immense knowledge to the glory of himself
and the Engineers and the astonishment of those inferior persons who
were merely officers of cavalry, infantry and artillery. Now he would
show off the shrewd expedients and devices which have embellished the
history of military engineering since the days of Hannibal and Julius
Cesar.
That everybody might know who was doing all this, the Aid was riding
back and forward, loudly commanding parties engaged in various efforts
over more than a quarter of a mile of front. He had brought up the
pontoon-train, and the pontoniers were having a hard time trying to
advance the boats into the rushing waters. It was all that the men could
do to hold them against the swift current. If a pole slipped or went
down in a deep hole the men holding it would slip and probably fall
overboard, the boat would whirl around and drift far out of its place,
requiring great labor to bring it back again, and bringing down a
torrent of curses from the young Lieutenant on the clumsiness of "the
Stoughton bottles" who were pretending to be soldiers and pontoniers.
He was feeling that every word of this kind showed off his superior
knowledge to those around. Some of the men were standing waist-deep in
the water, trying to fasten lines to trees, to hold in place the boats
already stationed and being held there by arms straining at the poles.
Everywhere those engaged in the work were tumbling down in the water
or being carried off their feet by the current and rescued again with
difficulty, to be hauled out on the bank, exhausted, soaked to the skin
and covered with slimy mud.
For awhile this had seemed funny to the troops waiting to cross, and
they had yelled and laughed themselves hoarse at the mishaps of their
comrades. Now the fun had all evaporated and everybody was morose, with
a strong tendency to outbreaks of profanity.
The old man surveyed the scene with evident satisfaction. "Yo' Yankees
will git over thar about the middle o' July," he chuckled. "Now, I
reckon that's Goober Crick, an' as I have done seed hit you'll let me go
back home, I s'pose, won't ye?"
"That's probably Goober Crick, or at least Goober Crick is somewhere
under that muddy freshet," acquiesced Shorty. "But I'm not at all
sure that it's the crick. Looks more like a misplaced chunk out o'
the Mizzoori River. I'm not sure, either, that your eyes kin see that
distance. We'll have to walk you till we find a section of the crick
somewhere that kin be recognized by the naked eyes. Come along, and step
lively."
The old man groaned, but there was no hope for him from these relentless
executants of orders. For a half hour more they plodded on. The mud
grew deeper at every step, but the boys mercilessly forced the old man
through the worst of it, that they might reach some point where they
could actually see Goober Crick. He could not palm off on them any
common old mud freshet for a creek that had a regular place on the map.
Finally they came near the pontoons, and saw one almost capsize,
throwing everybody in it into the water, while another whirled madly
away toward the center of the current, with but one man in, who was
frantically trying to stop it and save himself.
"Yes, he'll stop it, much," said Shorty, looking after him. "If he gits
ashore before he reaches the Mississippi I'll be surprised. Say, Si,
it'll be easier lookin' for Goober Crick in a boat than wading through
the mud. Let's git in one o' them boats."
This terrified the old man till he was ready to yield.
"I begin t' know the place," he admitted. "If we take this path through
the woods t' the left hit'll bring us out whar yo' kin see Goober Crick
for sartin, an' no mistake. Hit's allers above high-water thar."
The boys followed. A very short walk through a curtain of deep woods
brought them on to much higher ground, where Goober Creek roared through
a narrow channel it had cut in the rocks. As they stood on the banks, Si
and Shorty's eyes met in a quick comprehension of the advantages of the
place. They looked backward through the woods to see a depression in the
hills, which promised a short and comparatively easy cut-off to the road
in the rear, where the 200th Ind. lay.
"Yes, this is Goober Crick," said the old man, with an air of recalling
an old acquaintance. "I'm sure of hit. Now, you'll let me go home, won't
yer? I hain't got a dry thread left on me, an' I know I'll jest fairly
die o' rheumatiz."
"Yes, you can go," said Shorty, who was filling his eyes with the lay of
the ground, and the chances it offered of getting the 200th Ind. across
ahead of the others and gaining the coveted head of the column. "I've
no doubt you're awful wet, but mebbe you know more'n you did a couple of
hours ago. Skip!"
The old man moved off with alacrity scarcely to be expected of him,
and the boys saw that it was wisest to follow him, for he was taking a
bee-line through the woods and brush for his home, and that they knew
was near where they had left their regiment.
Soon Co. Q, crouching under the cedars and ponchos spread over fence
corners, hovering around struggling fires, and sullenly making the best
of a very poor prospect, was electrified by Si and Shorty appearing on
as near a run as they could put up with their weight-soaked garments.
"Capt. McGillicuddy," gasped Si, "we've found a bully place to cross.
Tell the Colonel quick. Let the boys git all the axes and shovels they
kin, and come with us. We'll have a crossin' ready by the time the
Colonel comes up with the regiment, and we kin git the advance agin."
Si had gained that enviable position in the regiment where he could
always have plenty of followers to anything that he proposed. The sullen
despondency passed into active alertness as soon as he began speaking,
and before he was done some of them were rummaging around the wagons for
axes and shovels. Two or three of these implements were found in the old
man's yard.
"Go ahead," said the Captain. "I'll speak to the Colonel, and we'll
follow you with the regiment. You can get the teams across, too?"
"Certain," said Si, as he handed his gun, cartridge-box, haversack,
blanket-roll and overcoat to another boy to carry for him, shouldered
his ax and started off at a run, the others following.
They came back to the spot whither the old man had led them. Si's
experienced eye quickly selected two tall hickories, which could be
felled directly across the stream and form the stringers for his bridge.
The next instant the damp air was ringing with the strokes of eight as
skillful axmen as there were in the army, Si leading on one tree and
Shorty on the other. They could not keep up the feverish pace they had
set for many minutes, but the instant their blows relaxed eight other
men snatched the axes, and in a few minutes the trees toppled and fell
just in the right position. Co. Q was now coming up, followed by the
rest of the regiment, and they gave a cheer to echo the crash of the
falling trees. Instantly hundreds of men and officers were at work
clearing a road and completing the bridge. Some cut down other trees to
furnish filling for the approaches, or to split into flooring for the
bridge. Some dug down the bank and carried the clay to cover the brush
and chunks. In an incredibly short time a bridge was completed, over
which the regiment was marched, and the wagons pulled by the men, after
the mules had been detached and walked over.
Every fresh success was announced by tremendous cheering, which carried
information to the rest of the brigade that the 200th Ind. was doing
something unusual. News as to what this was at last reached the ears of
the Lieutenant of Engineers, who was continuing his struggle with the
pontoons with a persistence worthy of better luck.
He rode up just in time to see Capt. McGillicuddy looking with elation
at the passage of the last wagon.
"Why was I not informed as to what you were doing here, sir?" he asked
angrily.
"Probably because we were too busy doing it to be talking about it.
If you had known of it you would probably have tried to apply the 47th
problem of Euclid to the case, and we wouldn't 've got ten over for a
week. Eventually, sir, I expect you will find out that there are
several things in the world that are not learned at West Point. Having
accomplished all that we want with the bridge, I now have the pleasure
of turning it over to the Engineer Department, and I wish that you may
find it very useful," continued the Captain, as with a mocking smile and
salute he followed the last of the regiment across the creek.
"Adjutant," said Si, saluting that official with great respect, "we've
now got the advance agin, hain't we?"
"You're right we have, you bully boy with a glass eye," said the
Adjutant, slapping him on the shoulder with a familiarity that would
have given the young Engineer Lieutenant a spasm and caused a strong
report on the discipline of the 200th Ind. "And you can just bet
we'll keep it, too. You ought to see the Colonel's eye. We'll lead the
procession into Shelbyville, which is only 15 miles away."