IN THE WAGON
He ran at first, reckless of impediments, and there was a sound of
crashing as he sped through the bushes. He was not in the least afraid
of Haskell. He had his rifle and pistols and in the woods he was
infinitely the superior. He did not even believe that Haskell would
pursue, but he wanted to get far beyond any possible Federal sentinels
as soon as possible.
After a flight of a few hundred yards he slackened speed, and began to
go silently. The old instincts and skill of the forester returned to
him. He knew that he was safe from immediate pursuit and now he would
approach his own lines carefully. He was grateful for the chance or
series of chances that always took him toward Lee. It seemed now that
his enemies had merely succeeded in driving him at an increased pace in
the way he wanted to go.
He was descending a slope, thickly clothed with undergrowth. A few
hundred yards farther his knees suddenly crumpled under him and he sank
down, seized at the same time with a fit of nervous trembling. He had
passed through so many ordeals that strong and seasoned as he was and
high though his spirits, the collapse came all at once. He knew what
was the matter and, quietly stretching himself out, he lay still that
the spell might pass.
The lonesome owl, probably the same one that he had heard earlier,
began to hoot, and now it was near by. Harry thought he could make out
its dim figure on a branch and he was sure that the red eyes, closed by
day, were watching him, doubtless with a certain contempt at his
weakness.
"Old man, if you had been chased by the fowler as often as I have,"
were the words behind his teeth, addressed to the dim and fluffy
figure, "you wouldn't be sitting up there so calm and cocky. Your
tired head would sink down between your legs, your feathers would be
wet with perspiration and you'd be so tired you'd hardly be able to
hang on to the tree."
Came again the lonesome hoot of the owl, spreading like a sinister omen
through the forest. It made Harry angry, and, raising himself up a
little, he shook his fist again at the figure on the branch, now
growing clearer in outline.
"'Bird or devil?'" he quoted.
The owl hooted once more, the strange ominous cry carrying far in the
silence of the night.
"Devil it is," said Harry, "and quoth your evil majesty 'never more.' I
won't be scared by a big owl playing the part of the raven. It's not
'nevermore' with me. I've many a good day ahead and don't you dare
tell me I haven't."
Came the solemn and changeless hoot of the owl in reply.
Harry's exertions and excitement had brought too much blood to his head
and he was seeing red. He raised himself upon his elbows and stared at
the owl which stared back from red rimmed eyes, cold, emotionless,
implacable. He had been terribly shaken, and now a superstitious
fright overcame him. The raven and the albatross were in his mind and
he murmured under his breath passages from their ominous poems. The
scholar had his raven, the mariner had his albatross and now he alone
in the forest had his owl, to his mind the most terrible bird of the
three.
Came again that solemn and warning cry, the most depressing of all in
the wilderness, while the changeless and sinister eyes stared steadily
at him. Then Harry remembered that he had a rifle, and he sat up. He
would slay this winged monster. There was light enough for him to draw
a bead, and he was too good a marksman to miss.
He dropped the muzzle of the rifle in a sudden access of fear as he
remembered the albatross. A shiver ran through every nerve and muscle,
and so heavily was he oppressed that he felt as if he had just escaped
committing murder. He rubbed his hand across his damp forehead and the
act brought him out of that dim world in which he had been living for
the last ten or fifteen minutes.
"Bird of whatever omen you may be, I'll not shoot you. That's
certain," he said, "but I'll leave you to your melancholy predictions
just as soon as I can."
He stood up somewhat unsteadily, and renewed the descent of the slope.
Near its foot he came to a brook and bathing his face plentifully in
the cool water he felt wonderfully refreshed. All his strength was
flowing back swiftly.
Then he entered the valley, pressing straight toward the west, and soon
heard the tread of horses. He knew that they must be the cavalry of
his own army, but he withdrew into the bushes until he was assured. A
dozen men riding slowly and warily came into view, and though the
moonlight was wan he recognized them at once. When they were opposite
him he stepped from his ambush and said:
"A happy night to you, Colonel Talbot."
Colonel Leonidas Talbot was a brave man, but seldom in his life had he
been so shaken.
"Good God, Hector!" he cried. "It's Harry Kenton's ghost!"
Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire turned pale.
"I don't believe in ghosts, Leonidas," he said, "but this one certainly
looks like that of Harry Kenton."
"Colonel Talbot," called Harry, "I'm not a ghost. I'm the real Harry
Kenton, hunting for our army."
"Pale but substantial," said St. Clair, who rode just behind the two
colonels. "He's our old Harry himself, and I'd know him anywhere."
"No ghost at all and the Yankee bullets can't make him one," said Happy
Tom.
A weakness seized Harry and a blackness came before his eyes. When he
recovered St. Clair was holding him up, and Colonel Talbot was trying
to pour strong waters down his throat.
"How long have I been this way?" he asked anxiously.
"About sixty seconds," replied Colonel Talbot, "but what difference
does it make?"
"Because I'm in a big hurry to get to General Lee! Oh! Colonel!
Colonel! You must speed me on my way! I've got a message from Colonel
Sherburne to General Lee that means everything, and on the road I
captured another from General Meade to General Pleasanton. Put me on a
horse, won't you, and gallop me to the commander-in-chief!"
"Are you strong enough to ride alone?"
"I'm strong enough to do anything now."
"Then up with you! Here, on Carter's horse! Carter can ride behind
Hubbell! St. Clair, you and Langdon ride on either side of him! You
should reach the commander-in-chief in three-quarters of an hour,
Harry!"
"And there is no Yankee cavalry in between?"
"No, they're thick on the slopes above us! You knew that, but here
you're inside our own lines. Judging by your looks you've had quite a
time, Harry. Now hurry on with him, boys!"
"So I have had, Colonel, but the appearance of you, Lieutenant-Colonel
St. Hilaire and the boys was like a light from Heaven. Good-by!"
"Good-by!" the two colonels called back, but their voices were already
dying in the distance as Harry and his comrades were now riding rapidly
down the valley, knee to knee, because St. Clair and Langdon meant to
keep very close to him. They saw that he was a little unsteady, and
that his eyes were unnaturally bright. They knew, too, that if he said
he had great news for General Lee he told the truth, and they meant
that he should get there with it in the least time possible.
The valley opened out before them, broadening considerably as they
advanced. The night was far gone, there was not much moonlight, but
their eyes had grown used to the dark, and they could see well. They
passed sentinels and small detachments of cavalry, to whom St. Clair
and Langdon gave the quick password. They saw fields of wheat stubble
and pastures and crossed two brooks. The curiosity of Langdon and St.
Clair was overwhelming but they restrained it for a long time. They
could tell by his appearance that he had passed through unimaginable
hardships, but they were loath to ask questions.
An owl on their right hooted, and both of them saw Harry shiver.
"What makes an owl's cry disturb you so, Harry?" asked Langdon.
"Because one of them tried to put the hoodoo on me as they say down in
your country, Happy. I was lying back there in the forest on the hill
and the biggest and reddest-eyed owl that was ever born sat on a bough
over head, and kept telling me that I was finished, right at the end of
my rope. But he was a liar, because here I am, with you fellows on
either side of me, inside our lines and riding to the camp of the
commander-in-chief."
"I think you're a bit shaky, Harry," said St. Clair, "and I don't
wonder at it. If I had been through all I think you've been through
I'd tumble off that horse into the road and die."
"Has any messenger come from Colonel Sherburne at the river to General
Lee?"
"Not that I've heard of. No, I'm sure that none's come," replied St.
Clair.
"Then I'll get to him first. Don't think, Arthur, it's just a foolish
ambition of mine to lead, but the sooner some one reaches the general
the better."
"We'll see that you're first old man," said Langdon. "It's not more
than a half-hour now."
But Harry reeled in his saddle. The singular weakness that he had felt
a while back returned, and the road grew dark before him. With a
mighty effort he steadied himself in the saddle and St. Clair heard him
say in a fierce undertone: "I will go through with it!" St. Clair
looked across at Langdon and the signaling look of Happy Tom replied.
They drew in just a little closer. Now and then they talked to him
sharply and briskly, rousing him again and again from the lethargy into
which he was fast sinking.
"Look! In the woods over there, Harry!" exclaimed St. Clair. "See the
men stretched asleep on the grass! They're the survivors of Pickett's
brigades that charged at Gettysburg."
"And I was there!" said Harry. "I saw the greatest charge ever made in
the history of the world!"
He reeled a little toward St. Clair, who caught him by the shoulder and
straightened him in the saddle.
"Of course you had a pleasant, easy ride from the Potomac," said Happy
Tom, "but I don't understand how as good a horseman as you lost your
horse. I suppose he ran away while you were picking berries by the
roadside."
"Me pick berries by the roadside, while I'm on such a mission!"
exclaimed Harry indignantly, rousing himself up until his eyes flashed,
which was just what Happy wished. "I didn't see any berries! Besides
I didn't start on a horse. I left in a boat."
"A boat? Now, Harry, I know you've turned romancer. I guess your
mystic troubles with the owl--if you really saw an owl--have been a
sort of spur to your fancy."
"Do you mean to say, Tom Langdon, that I didn't see an owl and talk
with him? I tell you I did, and his conversation was a lot more
intelligent than yours, even if it was unpleasant."
"Of course it was," said St. Clair. "Happy's chief joy in life is
talking. You know how he chatters away, Harry. He hates to sleep,
because then he loses good time that he might use in talk. I'll wager
you anything against anything, Harry, that when the Angel Gabriel blows
his horn Happy will rise out of his grave, shaking his shroud and
furious with anger. He'll hold up the whole resurrection while he
argues with Gabriel that he blew his horn either too late or too early,
or that it was a mighty poor sort of a horn anyhow."
"I may do all that, Harry," said Happy, "but Arthur is sure to be the
one who will raise the trouble about the shroud. You know how finicky
he is about his clothes. He'll find fault with the quality of his
shroud, and he'll say that it's cut either too short or too long. Then
he'll insist, while all the billions wait, on draping the shroud in the
finest Greek or Roman toga style, before he marches up to his place on
the golden cloud and receives his harp."
Harry laughed.
"That'll be old Arthur, sure," he said. Then his head drooped again.
Fatigue was overpowering him. St. Clair and Langdon put a hand on
either shoulder and held him erect, but Harry was so far sunk in
lethargy that he was not conscious of their grasp. Men looked
curiously at the three young officers riding rapidly forward, the one
in the center apparently held on his horse by the other two.
St. Clair took prompt measures.
"Harry Kenton!" he called sharply.
"Here!"
"Do you know what they do with a sentinel caught asleep?"
"They shoot him!"
"What of a messenger, bearing great news who has ridden two or three
days and nights through a thousand dangers, and then becomes
unconscious in his saddle within five hundred yards of his journey's
end?"
"The stake wouldn't be too good for him," replied Harry as with a
mighty effort he shook himself, both body and mind. Once more his eyes
cleared and once more he sat erect in his saddle without help.
"I won't fail, Arthur," he said. "Show the way."
"There's a big tree by the roadside almost straight ahead," said St.
Clair. "General Lee is asleep under that, but he'll be as wide awake
as any man can be a half-minute after you arrive."
They sprang from their horses, St. Clair spoke quickly with a watching
officer who went at once to awaken Lee. Harry dimly saw the form of
the general who was sleeping on a blanket, spread over small boughs.
Near him a man in brilliant uniform was walking softly back and forth,
and now and then impatiently striking the tops of his high
yellow-topped boots with a little riding whip. Harry knew at once that
it was Stuart, but the cavalry leader had not yet noticed him.
Harry saw the officer bend over the commander-in-chief, who rose in an
instant to his feet. He was fully dressed and he showed gray in the
dusky light, but he seemed as ever calm and grave. Harry felt
instantly the same swell of courage that the presence of Jackson had
always brought to him. It was Lee, the indomitable, the man of genius,
who could not be beaten. He heard him say to the officer who had
awakened him, "Bring him immediately!" and he stepped forward,
strengthening himself anew and filled with pride that he should be the
first to arrive, as he felt that he certainly now was.
"Lieutenant Kenton!" said Lee.
"Yes, sir," said Harry, lifting his cap.
"You were sent with Colonel Sherburne to see about the fords of the
Potomac."
"I was, sir."
"And he has sent you back with the report?"
"He has, sir. He did not give me any written report for fear that I
might be captured. He did me the honor to say that my verbal message
would be believed."
"It will. I know you, as I do the other members of my staff. Proceed."
"The Potomac is in great flood, sir, and the bridge is destroyed. It
can't be crossed until it runs down to its normal depth."
Harry saw other generals of high rank drawing near. One he recognized
as Longstreet. They were all silent and eager.
"Colonel Sherburne ordered me to say to you, sir," continued Harry,
"that the best fords would be between Williamsport and Hagerstown when
the river ran down."
"When did you leave him?"
"Nearly two days ago, sir."
"You have made good speed through a country swarming with our enemy.
You are entitled to rest."
"It's not all, sir?"
"What else?"
"On my way I captured a messenger with a letter from General Meade to
General Pleasanton. I have the message, sir."
He brought forth the paper from his blouse and extended it to General
Lee, who took it eagerly. Some one held up a torch and he read it
aloud to his generals.
"And so Meade means to trap me," he said, "by coming down on our flank!"
"Since the river is unfordable he'll have plenty of time to attack us
there," said Longstreet.
"But will he dare to attack?" said Stuart defiantly. "He was able to
hold his own in defense at Gettysburg, but it's another thing to take
the offensive. We hear that General Meade is cautious and that he
makes many complaints to his government. A complainer is not the kind
of man who can destroy the Army of Northern Virginia."
"Sometimes it's well to be cautious, General," said Lee.
Then he turned to Harry and said:
"Again I commend you."
Harry saluted proudly, and then fell unconscious at the feet of General
Lee.
When the young staff officer awoke, he was lying in a wagon which was
moving slowly, with many jolts over a very rough road. It was perhaps
one of these jolts that awoke him, because his eyes still felt very
heavy with sleep. His position was comfortable as he lay on a heap of
blankets, and the sides of the wagon looked familiar. Moreover the
broad back of the driver was not that of a stranger. Moving his head
into a higher place on the blankets he called.
"Hey you, Dick Jones, where are you taking me?"
Jones turned his rubicund and kindly face.
"Don't it beat all how things come about?" he said. "This wagon wasn't
built for passengers, but I have you once and then I have you twice,
sleepin' like a prince on them blankets. I guess if the road wasn't so
rough you'd have slept all the way to Virginia. But I'm proud to have
you as a passenger. They say you've been coverin' yourself with glory.
I don't know about that, but I never before saw a man who was so all
fired tuckered out."
"Where did you find me?"
"I didn't exactly find you myself. They say you saluted General Lee so
deep and so strong that you just fell down at his feet an' didn't move,
as if you intended to stay there forever. But four of your friends
brought you to my wagon feet foremost, with orders from General Lee if
I didn't treat you right that I'd get a thousand lashes, be tarred an'
feathered, an' hung an' shot an' burned, an' then be buried alive. For
all of which there was no need, as I'm your friend and would treat you
right anyway."
"I know you would," laughed Harry. "You can't afford to lose your best
passenger. How long have I been sleeping in this rough train of yours?"
"Since about three o'clock in the morning."
"And what time might it be now."
"Well it might be ten o'clock in the morning or it might be noon, but
it ain't either."
"Well, then, what time is it?"
"It's about six o'clock in the afternoon, Mr. Kenton, and I judge that
you've slept nigh on to fifteen hours, which is mighty good for a man
who was as tired as you was."
"And what has the army been doing while I slept?"
"Oh, it's been marchin' an' marchin' an' marchin'. Can't you hear the
wagons an' the cannons clinkin' an' clankin'? An' the hoofs of the
horses beatin' in the road? An the feet of forty or fifty thousand men
comin' down ker-plunk! ker-plunk! an' all them thousands talkin' off
an' on? Yes, we're still marchin', Mr. Kenton, but we're retreatin'
with all our teeth showin' an' our claws out, sharpened specially.
Most of the boys don't care if Meade would attack us. They'd be glad
of the chance to get even for Gettysburg."
There was a beat of hoofs and St. Clair rode up by the side of the
wagon.
"All right again, Harry?" he said cheerfully. "I'm mighty glad of it.
Other messengers have got through from Sherburne, confirming what you
said, but you were the first to arrive and the army already was on the
march because of the news you brought. Dalton arrived about noon, dead
beat. Happy is coming with a horse for you, and you can rejoin the
staff now."
"Before I leave I'll have to thank Mr. Jones once more," said Harry.
"He runs the best passenger service that I know."
"Welcome to it any time, either you or your friend," said Jones,
saluting with his whip.