HOW GENERAL SHIELDS SENT A DESPATCH TO GENERAL FRÉMONT.
When the stampede before the onrush of the Virginians occurred, Ephraim
and Lucius would have been heartily glad to bolt in the opposite
direction—namely, towards their friends; but two circumstances precluded
the possibility of such a course. The one, that without any consultation
on the subject, they both recognised the danger they ran of being shot
down or bayoneted by the men of the 37th, if they ventured to run
towards them, dressed as they were in Federal uniforms. For in the fury
of that charge but little opportunity was likely to arise for either
offering or receiving explanations. Another and even more potent reason
was that, however their inclinations might have prompted them to such a
step, it was absolutely impossible for them to carry it out, for the
rush of the Federal troops behind them swept them forward with such an
irresistible impulse that they had no choice but to take to their heels
in the direction of Lewiston. And this they did with a hearty good-will
which the roar of cannon and rattle of musketry behind them kept very
fully alive.
The retreat was not conducted in what is called good order. It was a
regular _sauve qui peut_, and it was not until the fugitives ran into
the fresh troops coming up to their support that a stand was made and
something like a rally effected. But even these were of no avail, and
the advance was promptly checked by the well-directed shot from the
Confederate batteries, which were now all in position upon the opposite
heights across the river; and the supporting columns, shattered by the
murderous discharge, wavered, recoiled, broke, and in their turn bolted
back to the shelter of the woods near Lewiston. As they fled, the
Confederates limbered up and pursued them, keeping, of course, to the
north side of the river, till at last the discomfiture of the Federals
was complete; and Shields, recognising the futility of any further
attempt upon a position so well defended, and which he could only attack
at such absolute disadvantage to himself, was compelled to remain quiet
all day, actually within sound of the cannonade which told of the
struggle in which Frémont was engaged alone at Cross Keys.
When the second repulse and consequent flight took place, Ephraim and
Lucius followed the example of most of their comrades by compulsion, and
sought the shelter of the woods, where they were at least safer from the
cannonade than in the open. Looking up the valley from Lewiston towards
Port Republic, a bird’s-eye view would have revealed three marked
topographical features, roughly speaking, parallel to one another. On
the right was the Shenandoah River; next to this, and to the left of it,
open country and cultivated fields; and farther still to the left, the
dense forest, three miles wide, which extended to the base of the Blue
Ridge. When forced to descend in the balloon, the boys had entered the
wood on the side next the mountain, and their flight from the colonel
and subsequent wanderings had carried them clear across it to the side
facing the river, where they had fallen in with the little hut in the
clearing, which was really a woodsman’s cabin on the Lewiston estate.
They were now, therefore, still on the same side as the hut, but a mile
or so above it.
‘I tell ye what it is, Luce,’ said Ephraim in his companion’s ear, as
they hurried along, ‘we air goin’ too fast. We’ll be in the Yankee camp
at this rate before many minnits is over. Let’s hang back a bit.’
They did so, gradually slackening their pace, and allowing the stream of
fugitives to roll past them, till at last being, so far as they could
see, alone, they sat down under a tree to take breath.
For a moment they looked at one another in silence. Then Ephraim said
with a good deal of emotion in his voice: ‘I am the most or’nery fool in
a town whar there’s a good few er the sort. I thort ter let ye hev a
piece er funnin’, and now I’ve nearly been the death er ye twice, and
gracious knows what’ll happen yit before we git through with this
one-horse adventure.’
‘I don’t call it a one-horse adventure,’ replied Lucius. ‘A whole team
would be more like it. I imagine this is what you might call a pretty
crowded day. Eh, Grizzly?’
‘Waal, I ’low it is so fur,’ admitted Ephraim with the ghost of a smile.
‘Same time, I dunno what I’d hev done ter myself ef ennythin’ had gone
wrong with ye in thet rumpus jest now. I’d never hev got over it or
fergiv myself. By time! ter see them two pore men go down like thet
alongside us all in a moment. It might jest ez well hev been you.’ He
blew his nose loudly, and furtively knuckled his eyes.
‘But it wasn’t, you see,’ returned Lucius cheerfully. ‘A miss is as good
as a mile, Grizzly. And I wish you wouldn’t blame yourself, for I came
with you of my own free will.’
‘Ye didn’t bargain fer all this, though,’ said Ephraim mournfully. ‘Ye
didn’t ’magine ye were ter be stuck up ez a target fer our own boys.—By
gracious!’ he added with animation, forgetting his troubles in the
glorious recollection, ‘didn’t they give the Yanks howdy in fine style?
See ’em comin’ across thet bridge! Didn’t they jest nat’ally tear
along?’
‘They did,’ answered Lucius with glistening eyes. ‘It was splendid.—So
we’ve seen a battle after all,’ he went on, with a low laugh of
satisfaction.
‘Ah!’ replied Ephraim. ‘And ye warn’t sittin’ on the ring fence nuther.’
‘No,’ chuckled Lucius, ‘and thet bull er Holmes’s is powerful
servigerous.’ He laughed out again.
‘Garn away! What air ye givin’ me?’ said Ephraim. ‘But I ’low, Luce, ter
see ye standin’ thar in the ranks like a bit er rock, it war
marvellious.’
‘I can tell you I felt badly enough at first, when those two men were
killed alongside us,’ said Lucius. ‘I might have been a thousand miles
underground for all the power I had to move. I was simply stiffened
where I stood. Then it all seemed to go away and leave me, and I felt
quite cool. How did you feel?’
‘Pretty bad,’ admitted Ephraim. ‘But I war so taken up with thinkin’
about you thet it soon went orf.’ He made this remark in the most
matter-of-fact way, not in the least to draw attention to his own
unselfishness, but as if it were the most natural thing in the world
that Lucius should be his first concern.
‘Well, I’m afraid that I was thinking of myself,’ said Lucius; ‘but
after the first burst I only grew more and more interested in the
fight.’
‘Oh yes,’ exclaimed Ephraim, struck by a sudden recollection. ‘What made
ye turn round and say thet about old Blue Bag?’
The fire went out of Luce’s eyes; the glow faded from his cheeks and
left them pale. Again the memory of those awful moments in the air
overcame him. His voice was unsteady as he answered: ‘I don’t know what
set me thinking of it; but all of a sudden the thought crossed me, and I
felt as if I should die. I never shall forget it. I never can forget it
as long as I live.’
He shuddered violently. He was not exaggerating. The impression made
upon him by his adventures in the air had been supreme. It had taken
fast hold of some corner of his brain in a manner which perhaps the
doctors could explain, and whenever imagination or memory called it
forth, it threatened to unman him.
Ephraim considered him curiously. He could not understand the almost
simultaneous exhibition of such opposite states of mind. However, he had
wit enough to let the subject drop, and only answered: ‘Waal, we won’t
talk about thet any more; I guess it’s over now. See hyar, Luce, I think
our best plan will be to make fer thet little cabin agen and lie low
thar till evenin’, when we kin make a break fer our lines.’
‘I don’t think that we ought to venture into that loft a second time,’
said Lucius. ‘If the general caught us there again and recognised you,
there would be trouble.’
‘Thar would, shore enuff,’ agreed Ephraim; ‘but ye misonderstand me,
Luce. I didn’t mean to hide in the loft, but ter walk right inter the
cabin, lie down and take a snooze till it gits dark enuff ter be orf. Ef
any one comes in we kin jest walk out agin. We kin always say we’re
makin’ fer our lines.’
‘I see,’ said Lucius. ‘Very well. Besides, it doesn’t follow that the
general will return. But are you sure that you can find your way there?’
‘Why wouldn’t we?’ returned Ephraim. ‘It’s on this side er the wood, and
not so far away et thet. Come on.’
They hugged the edge of the wood, and after walking for twenty minutes
or so, again reached the clearing in which the log cabin stood. No one
was in sight; but still, instead of approaching it from the open side,
they preferred to skirt the wood a little further and reconnoitre
through the window in case of accidents.
At last they stood opposite to the window, and here Ephraim pulled
Lucius back.
‘You stay hyar, Luce,’ he said. ‘I’ll go forward and see ef the coast is
cl’ar.’
‘Not at all,’ answered Lucius; ‘you’re always doing that sort of thing.
I’ll go for a change.’
‘No, lemme go,’ protested Ephraim. ‘What’s the use er runnin’ yerself
inter danger ’thout any reason?’
‘The danger is the same for you as for me,’ retorted Lucius. ‘I tell you
I am going.’
‘Then we’ll both go,’ said Ephraim decidedly, and accordingly they went.
Cautiously approaching the window, they peeped in and surveyed the
cabin. To their great relief it was empty; but before Lucius knew what
he was about, Ephraim stole quietly round the hut and surveyed the open
space.
‘It’s all cl’ar, Luce,’ he said in a tone of satisfaction. ‘I don’t see
nary a Yank. They’re not fur orf, though, fer the camp is jest beyond
the woods thar.’
‘Then shall we go in here?’ asked Lucius. ‘You think that is the best
thing to do?’
‘I reckon,’ returned Ephraim laconically, and slipped in through the
window by way of illustration. ‘By time!’ he exclaimed when he was
fairly in, ‘thar’s been some one in hyar sence we made tracks out er
it.’
‘How do you know?’ inquired Lucius, scrambling in to join him.
‘Why, all the food is gone,’ sighed Ephraim, pointing to the table with
a sigh. ‘I war looking forward ter a fresh supply er them crackers after
all this runnin’ around.’
‘I’ve got plenty here,’ said Lucius, slapping his pockets; ‘and you’ve
got the ham.’
‘It won’t do ter gobble up thet jest yet, Luce,’ explained cautious
Ephraim. ‘Ye kin hev jest wan slice ef ye’re sharp set, but we must keep
some fer ter-night in case we run dry.’
‘No, I’m not very hungry,’ answered Lucius; ‘but I’ve turned most
unaccountably sleepy all of a sudden.’
‘Nuthin’ onaccountable about thet,’ said Ephraim, ‘seein’ ye never went
ter bed at all last night, and hev been up all ter-day. Lie down in the
corner and take a snooze. I’ll look after things.’
‘Why,’ asked Lucius, surprised, ‘aren’t you sleepy, too? You said you
were just now.’
‘Ez ter thet,’ responded Ephraim, ‘I kin hold old man Nod orf a bit yit,
I reckon. It’ll maybe suit better ef we don’t go ter sleep at the same
time.’
‘I see,’ said Lucius with a huge yawn. ‘Well then, you lie down, and
I’ll take the first watch.’
‘Shucks!’ ejaculated Ephraim. ‘What does it matter? Ye air half over
already. Go ter sleep. I’ll git my allowance by-and-by.’
‘But,’ began Lucius drowsily, ‘you always do everything. I—I—don’t
see—why’——. He mumbled on for a second or two, nodded heavily, started
into semi-wakefulness, nodded again, and rolled over fast asleep.
Ephraim looked down at him with an expression in which tenderness for
his friend and self-reproach were blended. ‘Pore Luce,’ he murmured, ‘ye
air jest nat’ally tuckered out. I wish I hadn’t been sech a or’nery fool
with my notions. I’d give suthin’ ter see ye back agen safe and sound in
the old home et Staunton. Pray God I’ll git ye thar yit, though.
He stole to the door, and going outside, planted himself with his back
against the logs of the cabin, so that he could command a view of all
approaches by the front or sides. For he rightly judged that only
skulkers would be likely to enter by the window, and for them he did not
care.
‘“Carry me back to old Virginny,”’ he hummed softly to himself, as he
glanced up and down; up to where he knew the Federal camp lay concealed
behind the bend of the woods; down to where, though he could not see
them either, he knew that the Confederates were still standing to arms,
expecting a fresh attack on the part of Shields, and wondering why it
never came. But Shields was too astute. It was as if he had heard the
remark made by Jackson to his chief of staff, when the latter expressed
the opinion that Shields would make a more determined attack on the
bridge at Port Republic before the day was out. ‘Not he,’ said
Stonewall, waving his hand towards the heights. ‘I should tear him to
pieces. Look at my artillery.’
Boom! boom! boom! came the sound of the heavy guns at Cross Keys, and
Ephraim’s face brightened as he pictured the struggle, in which he made
not the slightest doubt Frémont was getting very much the worst of it.
‘Old Stonewall will be hyar ter-morrer,’ he thought, ‘and then thar’ll
be big doin’s.’
Boom! boom! The monotony of the sound, fraught with no matter what
deadly meaning, began to weary him. He straightened up and walked slowly
up and down in front of the cabin. He was fearfully tired, and the
desire for sleep threatened to overcome him even as he walked. But he
shook it angrily off, pinching himself into wakefulness, until at last
the desire fled from him.
The hours wore on to mid-day, mid-day passed to afternoon, afternoon
dragged towards evening, and still he kept his self-imposed vigil,
pacing up and pacing down, leaning against the wall of the cabin, or
occasionally stepping discreetly inside, when a messenger or a patrol
hurried by, or when blare of bugle or roll of drum in the Federal camp
beyond the trees seemed to indicate a movement in the direction of the
bridge.
It never occurred to him to wake Lucius, who still lay wrapped in
profound slumber, only every now and then he stole in to look at him as
though to satisfy himself that the boy was safe, and then out again to
his sentry go.
About four o’clock he had just stepped outside after one of these little
visits, which consoled him a good deal for the trouble he was taking,
for even to look at Lucius was always a delight to Ephraim—he had just
stepped outside, when his watchful eye, turned in the direction of the
Federal camp, observed two persons coming round the bend of the woods.
One he instantly recognised as General Shields; but with the features of
the other, who was in civilian dress, he was unfamiliar. Like a flash
Ephraim was back again in the cabin, peering round the corner of the
door at the advancing couple. ‘I wonder ef he’s comin’ in hyar,’ he
thought. ‘I should say not, but it’s better to be on the safe side these
days. I hate ter wake Luce; but I reckon it’ll have ter be done.’
He sped to Luce’s side, and bending over him, shook him strongly. The
boy stirred, moaned uneasily, but did not open his eyes. Ephraim rushed
to the door and back again.
‘Wake up, Luce!’ he called, shaking him more violently than ever. ‘Wake
up! The ginrul’s outside, and ef he comes in and ketches me hyar,
thar’ll be trouble, ez ye said. Wake up!’
This time Lucius opened his eyes, but only to close them instantly, and
fall once more heavily asleep.
‘By time!’ muttered Ephraim, glancing at the window, the desperate
thought occurring to him that the best thing to do would be to heave
Lucius straight out, as the most effectual way of awakening him. Then he
shook his head. ‘No,’ he said to himself, ‘thet’ll not do. He might
yelp, and then we would be spotted shore and certain. Whar air they
now?’ He took another squint from his vantage point. The general and his
companion were approaching, sauntering slowly along, deep in earnest
conversation.
Once again Ephraim repeated the shaking process, and this time with such
good effect that Lucius sat up, rubbed his eyes, stared at the Grizzly
in a bewildered fashion for an instant, and concluded by asking where he
was.
‘Wake up!’ returned Ephraim. ‘Ye’ll soon know. Through the window,
quick! Ah!’ as voices were plainly heard outside, ‘it’s too late. We
must just face it out. Maybe they won’t come in.’
His next glance relieved his apprehensions. Evidently the unwelcome
visitors did not intend to enter. They were walking wide of the hut, not
looking at it, and in a moment or two would have passed it by. Ephraim
made a warning sign to the now wide-awake Lucius, as fragments of the
conversation floated to them.
‘So you see,’ General Shields was saying, ‘it is of the highest
importance that what we could not do for him to-day, General Frémont
should do for us to-morrow. Whatever be the result of to-day’s fight at
Cross Keys, he must effect a junction with me to-morrow, and to that end
those despatches, detailing my plans, must be in his hands to-night. I
know it is difficult; but do you not think’—— The rest of the sentence
was lost in the distance, as the two passed on.
‘Shall we get through the window now?’ asked Lucius, as the voices died
away.
‘I reckon not,’ returned Ephraim; ‘they might see us from the other
side. Better stay whar we air till they air out er sight. They’re not
thinkin’ er us jest now.’
‘What were they talking about?’ inquired Lucius, who, having been
further from the door, had not heard the conversation so perfectly.
‘I dunno rightly; but it’s suthin’ about gittin’ word over ter Frémont
about ter-morrer’s fight. Sh! Hyar they come back again. Now, lemme do
the talkin’ ef they come in.’
This time it was the voice of the civilian that reached them. ‘I’ve done
it before in the boat, general,’ he was saying, ‘and I don’t know what
is to hinder me doing it again.’
‘Well, I don’t want to confuse you with suggestions,’ said General
Shields in reply. ‘You know your own business too well for that. You are
sure the boat is there?’
‘It was there two hours ago, snug under the bank. I don’t see why it
shouldn’t be there now.’
‘You know our new word, of course?’
‘Oh yes; and theirs too, unless it has been changed since this morning.’
They came to a halt opposite the door of the cabin, behind the door of
which Ephraim instantly flattened himself, while Lucius stood stiffly
erect in a corner.
The general began to laugh. ‘If you can take a dip down, and learn
anything of Jackson’s intentions before you return, you admirable
civilian, I shall be all the more pleased,’ he said. Then noting the
look of surprise on his companion’s face, he added hastily: ‘I was
laughing at the recollection of a ridiculous incident which happened in
there this morning. I’ll tell you as we go along.’ And taking the
civilian by the arm, he continued his walk in the direction of the camp.
Ephraim stole a cautious glance round the post of the door. ‘By time!’
he grinned, when they were out of earshot. ‘Ef he’d come in and
suspected we’d heard thet pretty bit of news, I reckon he’d hev larft
the wrong side of his mouth.’
‘Tell me, what does it mean?’ asked Lucius eagerly.
‘I reckon it means thet the admire-able civilian, as the ginrul called
him, is a pesky spy,’ replied Ephraim.
‘As Colonel Spriggs said you and I were,’ laughed Lucius.
‘Ezackly! On’y this yer’s the real article, wharas we war on’y
imitashuns. Anyway, this is the way I put it up. The civilian thar—who
most likely ain’t a civilian at all—hes got a pocketful er despatches
fer Ginrul Frémont. Likewise, he hes got a boat somewhar over thar under
the river bank. Likewise, he perposes to row across above our pickets
and hand ’em ter Frémont. Likewise, his intention is, the orn’ery skunk,
ter take a stroll down ter Stonewall’s camp, and find out all he kin.
Likewise’——
‘Likewise,’ interrupted Lucius, ‘you’ve got an idea into your head that
those despatches would be better in General Jackson’s hands than in
General Frémont’s, and you are wondering if we couldn’t somehow manage
to get hold of them.’
Grizzly made a step forward and caught Lucius by the hand. ‘Right ye
air, Luce!’ he cried, beaming upon his friend. ‘Ye hev struck it. Thet
war my idee, on’y I don’t ezackly see how it’s gwine ter be done.’ He
paused to put on his considering cap.
‘I’d like to have a try for it,’ said Lucius with a grimace. ‘You see,
I’ve been thinking a good deal what an awful row there’ll be when I get
home—that is, if I ever do get home; but if we could show that we’d done
some real service to them, why, they wouldn’t have so much to say,’ he
finished, having become rather mixed in his pronouns. ‘Why shouldn’t we
make for the river and head him off, Grizzly?’ he continued, after a
pause. ‘We’ve got guns and ammunition now. I believe we could do it.’
‘Ef we on’y knew ezackly when he’d start, and how fur away his boat is,’
said Ephraim dubiously.
‘Well,’ said Lucius, who had gone to the door, ‘there is a civilian
walking towards the river now. See, he has just come round the bend of
the woods from the camp. Of course, I don’t know whether it’s your
admirable civilian or not, for I didn’t see him, but’——
‘By time! It’s him, shore enuff,’ broke in the Grizzly excitedly. ‘Now,
Luce, ef we’re goin’ ter do ennythin’, we must do it sharp and quick. We
carn’t foller straight in his tracks, thet much is cl’ar. He’s got a
start, and we must allow him a leetle more. What we got ter do is, to go
down the woods a space, and then make a bee-line fer the river. We kin
steal up the bank through the belt er trees thet fringes it, and ef we
carn’t head him orf, maybe we kin stop him before he gits across.’ He
tapped his rifle significantly.
They set off running as hard as they could through the trees for a
hundred yards or more, and then Ephraim stopped to spy out the land.
‘He’s goin’ very slow, Luce,’ he said. ‘I reckon we shall head him off
if we kin git thar ’thout bein’ stopped. Now, bub, across the first
field fer all ye’re wuth.’
Three wide fields intervened between them and the river, and the risk
that they would be seen was very great. They were forced to incur it,
though; and, besides, they hoped that their blue uniforms would divert
suspicion from them if any one should catch sight of them. However, they
crossed the first and second fields in safety, and concealed themselves
in a ditch while making a survey of the third. The man was out of sight
now, but it was only the conformation of the country which concealed
him. As a matter of fact, the boys were nearer the river than he was.
‘Thar’s one thing, though,’ said Ephraim, as they sat in the ditch.
‘Thet belt er wood by the river is bound ter be full er Yankee pickets.
We han’t got the countersign. What’s ter be done ef we air stopped?’
‘Let’s go on until we are stopped,’ urged Lucius the bold.
Ephraim shook his head. ‘No,’ he said; ‘that’ll not do. We should on’y
be turned back agen.’ He thought deeply for a moment, the blue vein
coming out in the middle of his forehead, as it always did when his mind
was concentrated. All at once he slapped his hand upon his thigh. ‘By
time! I’ve got it!’ he exclaimed, and burst out laughing.
‘What have you thought of?’ asked Lucius eagerly.
The Grizzly made him a rapid communication, the effect of which upon
Lucius was to cause him to throw himself flat upon the bank of the ditch
and roll about with delight.
‘Come on!’ cried the Grizzly. ‘Now mind ye do ezackly ez I do, and when
ye run, keep a sharp eye fer the boat.’
They set off again at a quick pace, until they had cleared the field and
entered the broad belt of trees which fringed the water. Here they
slowed down, and made a bee-line, so far as they could, for the river.
In five minutes or less they heard the splash of the swollen current
against the bank, and turning their faces sharply down stream, moved on
for two or three minutes more, making all the noise they could.
‘Halt! Who comes there?’
No sooner did the sharp challenge ring out than, as if at a signal for
which they had been waiting, the two boys burst into wild,
panic-stricken yells: ‘The Rebs! the Rebs! They’re on us! The pickets
are driven in!’ Shouting which they charged madly down upon the sentry
who had challenged them. Seeing, as he supposed, two Federal sentries in
full flight, the man never doubted for a moment that the alarm was
genuine, and discharging his rifle in the air, set off as hard as his
legs could carry him through the belt of trees towards the fields,
beyond which lay the camp.
And now all along the river bank the cry was taken up, ‘The Rebs! the
Rebs!’ and everywhere could be heard the sound of feet crashing through
the undergrowth, as the pickets bolted in upon their supports.
Bursting with laughter, Ephraim and Lucius watched the disappearance of
the man immediately in their front; but the sharp call of a bugle and
the noise of the long roll upon the drums, as the Federal regiments
sprang to arms in anticipation of the threatened attack, warned them
that there was no time to lose, and they continued their race down the
bank.
‘There’s the boat!’ panted Lucius, after a few minutes. ‘I see her nose
just peeping out.’
‘Down in the underbrush, then!’ said Ephraim sharply, ‘and don’t git up
unless I call ye, or ye see thar’s need.’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Lucius, obeying the order.
‘Give ’em a taste of their own sauce, I reckon! Hush! Hyar he comes. Lie
low!’
He flung himself in front of Lucius, with his rifle at the port, and
waited.
Hurrying footsteps drew nearer. Some one was coming on at express speed.
Ephraim gripped his rifle tight, and set his teeth.
Swish! The bushes parted, and the civilian stood before him.
‘Halt!’ shouted the Grizzly, bringing his bayoneted rifle down to the
charge. ‘Halt! Who comes thar?’
[Illustration]