GRIZZLY IN THE TOILS.
Ephraim was not long in following out his own recommendation to Lucius,
but unfortunately, instead of bearing away to the left, he took a
straighter line, and before he had gone fifty yards, found himself
surrounded by a dozen men, who had approached the scene of conflict with
more caution and less noise than their fellow-soldiers. The Grizzly,
indeed, was among them before he was aware of their presence, and ere he
could attempt to resist or break through the circle, was firmly seized
and held fast.
‘I guess we’ve got some one,’ said a rough voice. ‘Who may yew be, and
whar air yew running to?’
Ephraim did not answer at once. His first thoughts, as usual, were of
Lucius, and he was listening intently for any sign which might indicate
his capture. Presently he heard the boy’s voice shouting misleading
directions as he practised his simple _ruse de guerre_, and once more at
rest upon this point, gave attention to the question, which was now
repeated in a more peremptory tone.
‘Waal,’ answered Ephraim slowly, feeling, as it were, for his words, ‘I
heard a fuss, and I was runnin’ to see what the trouble was.’
‘I reckon yew must have an outrageous fine bump of locality,’ said
another man sneeringly, ‘seeing that yew’re making tracks in a
teetotally wrong direction.—Hi! Pete, hurry up with the lantern, and
let’s have a look at this coon.’
‘Ef I don’t keep a level head,’ thought Ephraim, as he heard this, ‘I’m
a goner, shore. Waal, it don’t matter much, ez long ez Luce is safe, and
I reckon he is, so fur, fer I don’t hear any row.—Oh! Ugh!’
The expression of pain was wrung from him as the grasp of one of his
captors tightened upon his wounded shoulder.
‘What’s the matter with yew?’ inquired the man. ‘My land! My hand is all
wet. So’s his shoulder. Quick with the light! Why, it’s blood! I guess,
corporal, he war running _from_ the trouble, not towards it. No wonder
he war in sech a hurry.’
The corporal stepped up and examined Ephraim’s torn coat and lacerated
shoulder by the light of the lantern.
‘Humph!’ he ejaculated. ‘A nasty rake, and a fresh wound, too. How did
you come by this?’
‘I reckon something must hev struck me,’ returned Ephraim, as though he
were now receiving news of his wound for the first time. ‘Thar’s sech a
heap er things flying around these days, ye can’t tell whar they come
from or whar they go ter.’
‘This is no bullet wound, though,’ said the corporal, examining it
again. ‘It’s been done by a bayonet.—Come, you, tell us what happened.
Did you meet the Reb?’ For he noted that Ephraim was clad in the Federal
blue.
‘I ’magine it must hev been suthin’ er thet sort,’ replied Ephraim
cautiously. ‘Ennyway, I run up agin suthin’ or somebody, and thet’s the
fact.’
‘Where did it happen?’ asked the corporal.
‘Somewhar round. It mought hev been hyar and it mought hev been thar. I
can’t ezackly say.’
‘Did your assailant bolt after wounding you?’ was the corporal’s next
question.
‘I didn’t stop ter see,’ began Ephraim, when a loud shout close by
announced that the question had received a practical answer by the
discovery of the body of Sergeant Mason.
‘Hi! Help!’ shouted a voice. ‘Thar’s a dead soldier over hyar. No, he
ain’t dead; but he’s got it pretty bad. Help!’
The corporal rushed in the direction of the hail, and the soldiers
hurried Ephraim after him. Presently they came to the scene of the late
scrimmage, where the sergeant still lay upon his back, moaning faintly.
‘Why, if it isn’t Sergeant Mason!’ cried the corporal, bending over the
prostrate man.—‘Did you do this?’ he demanded fiercely, straightening up
and facing Ephraim.
The Grizzly recognised that further concealment was useless, so he
answered firmly: ‘It war in fair fight, corporal. I reckon ef it hadn’t
been him lyin’ thar, it would hev been me, so maybe it’s ez well ez it
is.’
‘Then I guess you’re the man we want,’ cried the corporal.—‘Boys, this
is the pesky Secesh, what’s given so much trouble to-day, going round in
Federal uniform. I bet it is.—We’ve got you now, Johnny Reb, so you may
as well own up. Who are you, any how?’
‘I reckon you make me tired with your questions,’ answered Ephraim. ‘I
shan’t answer no more. Ye ain’t the provost-marshal, air ye?’
‘Ho! if it’s him you want to see,’ mocked the corporal, ‘I guess we
won’t be long gratifying your desires.—Hey, boys?’
A low muttering among the men swelled suddenly into a shout, and there
was an ugly rush in the direction of Ephraim. The corporal threw himself
in the way of it.
‘No, no, boys,’ he cried. ‘I guess his time is short enough without your
cutting it shorter. Besides, fair’s fair, and the fellow that could get
the best of Sergeant Mason in a tussle must be a stark fighter and a
pretty average kind of a man. Let him take his chance with the
provost-marshal. I reckon it’s his business, not ours.’
The men, appealed to in this soldierly fashion, fell back, and at the
corporal’s direction four of them raised the fallen Sergeant Mason and
started for the camp, bearing him between them.
‘Now, you,’ said the corporal, ‘since you’re in such a hurry, step out,
and we’ll call on your friend the provost-marshal. I shouldn’t wonder if
he was waiting up to receive you.—Fetch him along, boys.’
‘Corporal,’ asked the Grizzly in a weak voice, ’ kin I hev a drink er
water? I’——The words failed on his lips, he staggered and would have
fallen, but for the supporting arms of the two men who held him.
‘My land!’ exclaimed the corporal. ‘I’d forgotten his wound. Lay him
down on the ground.—Hyar, drink this. We may be Yankees, Johnny Reb; but
we are not brutes by a good deal.’ He held his canteen to Ephraim’s
lips, and when the latter had satisfied his thirst, rapidly cut away his
coat and made a fresh examination of the wound.
‘There,’ he said, arranging his own handkerchief as a pad over the gash,
and binding it in its place with another which one of the men handed to
him—‘you’ll do now till the surgeon can get his paws on you. It’s only a
scratch, though it’s a pretty deep one. Feel better?’
‘I’m obleeged ter ye,’ said Grizzly, sitting up. ‘I’m all right agen
now. It war water I wanted.—No,’ as he rose to his feet, ‘ye needn’t
carry me. I kin walk well enuff.’
‘Are you sure?’ demurred the corporal, who was prepossessed in Ephraim’s
favour on account of his prowess in having overthrown such a mighty man
of valour as Sergeant Mason. ‘It’ll be easy enough to have you carried.’
‘I’ll walk while I kin walk,’ returned Ephraim with grim humour. ‘Ye kin
carry me after the shootin’. Or I reckon it’s hangin’ when ye’re ketched
spyin’ around; ain’t it?’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ answered the corporal as they moved along. ‘And I
wish it wasn’t, for you’re a brave man, and I’d sooner see you with an
ounce of lead in your brain than dangling at the end of a rope.’
‘That’s real kind of you, corporal,’ said Ephraim. ‘The selection is
very ch’ice; but I ’low the result won’t make much difference ter me.’
The corporal seemed to feel the force of this, for he made no reply, and
they continued their way in silence until the groups of smouldering
bivouac fires showed that they had reached the outer line of the camp.
Passing through the long rows of slumbering soldiers, they came at last
to the guard tent, and here the corporal, on making inquiries, was
referred to the officer of the day, who in his turn directed them to the
provost-marshal.
They found that this dreaded functionary had left word that, in the
event of the capture of the spy, he was to be awakened at once, no
matter what the hour; but as a matter of fact he arrived upon the scene
in a very bad humour, for after waiting up till considerably past
midnight, he had thought that he might safely turn in, and now his first
sweet, refreshing sleep had been rudely broken. That this was due to the
strictness of his own orders did not tend to soothe him, for there was
nobody to shift the blame upon, and to be reduced to grumbling at one’s
self is a state that offers little consolation. Yes, there was some one,
though, upon whom the vials of his wrath might be legitimately emptied,
and the provost-marshal determined that the spy—if spy he really proved
to be—should have nothing to complain of on the score of undue leniency.
‘Bring that prisoner in here,’ he said, appearing at the entrance to his
tent.—‘Now, corporal, is this the spy?’
‘Can’t say, sir,’ answered the corporal; ‘but I shouldn’t wonder if it
were. I captured him as he was attempting to escape after clubbing
Sergeant Mason.’
The provost-marshal, who had seated himself at a small table with a
note-book before him and a pencil in his hand, looked up in surprise at
this. ‘Do I understand you to say,’ he asked, ‘that this weedy creature
actually got the best of Sergeant Mason?’
‘It’s a fact, sir,’ replied the corporal. ‘Mason has got a crack on the
head that will keep him quiet this long time. Of course I didn’t see the
fight myself, but this fellow here don’t deny that he is the man, and he
has a bayonet wound in the shoulder to speak for the truth of what he
says.’
‘Humph!’ muttered the provost-marshal. ‘I shouldn’t have thought it
possible. Well, I’ll question him.—By the way, corporal, did you hear or
see anything of those other two fellows?’
‘No, sir,’ answered the corporal, understanding the reference; ‘but I
heard, sir, that Colonel Spriggs was still out on the hunt for them.’
The provost-marshal’s moustache was slightly agitated. So grim a person
could not be expected to smile; but his amused thought was evidently:
‘Spriggs will take precious good care not to return to camp until
Jackson moves from Port Republic, or we move from here.’
For Ephraim, too, the announcement had a special interest, for it showed
him that his identity with one of the escaped aeronauts was not, so far,
suspected, and hence the provost-marshal could have no idea that any one
else had been concerned in the affair of the despatch. Lucius, he hoped,
was by this time out of harm’s way; but at all events Spriggs was not
there to complicate matters by referring to him. The Grizzly was quite
prepared to take the onus of the theft of the despatch upon his own
shoulders, and he awaited calmly the discovery of the packet. Casting
his eyes downwards to his cartridge pouch, he saw with some slight
surprise that the flap was unfastened. He had been very particular about
the fastening, lest by any chance the papers should be lost, and he
wondered whether it had come undone during his combat with Sergeant
Mason. He was roused from his meditations by the voice of the
provost-marshal questioning him.
‘Are you a soldier or civilian?’
‘Civilian, sir. I am a factory hand at the ironworks at Staunton. I came
into your lines by accident, and ’cause I wanted ter git out agen
without comin’ ter grief, I put on these clothes thet I found in the
wood.’
‘Ah! I suppose it was also by accident that, thus disguised as a Federal
soldier, you played the part of sentry, and became fraudulently
possessed of a despatch belonging to General Shields and addressed to
General Frémont? And I imagine that if, by another and very lucky
accident, you had fallen in with your friends, the enemy, you would have
felt compelled to hand the despatch over to them. It is fortunate that
we got hold of you first.’
This was a shot on the part of the provost-marshal, for he had as yet no
means of knowing that Ephraim and the man who had stopped Captain
Hopkins were one and the same. As Ephraim did not answer, he went on:
‘Have you got the despatch, corporal?’
‘No, sir,’ replied the corporal. ‘I was busy attending to his wound and
bringing him here.’
‘Search him, then.’
The corporal searched Ephraim literally down to his skin, and to the
surprise of no one more than the Grizzly himself, discovered nothing.
‘They must hev dropped out while the row war goin’ on,’ thought Ephraim;
for it never crossed his mind that by an accidental exchange of belts
the papers had come into Luce’s hands. Had he suspected this, he would
have felt miserable indeed.
‘What have you done with that despatch, you fellow? What is your name?’
asked the provost-marshal angrily.
‘Ephraim Sykes,’ answered the Grizzly, paying no attention to the more
important question.
‘Psha! Where is the despatch?—Well, do you not intend to answer?’ For
still Ephraim held his peace.
‘I told ye the truth jest now,’ said Ephraim at last. ‘I war tryin’ ter
git out er your lines, whar I come without any wish er my own. I hevn’t
got any despatch, ez ye kin see.’
‘What have you done with it, then?’ inquired the provost-marshal
impatiently.
‘I hevn’t said I ever had it,’ answered Ephraim, anxious to gain time.
‘Ef ye air so ready ter accuse me, ye’d better start in and prove me
guilty. I’m not supposed ter do it fer ye, I reckon.’
The officer eyed him sternly. ‘Justice shall be done, my man; don’t you
be afraid of that,’ he said significantly.—‘Corporal!’ He gave an order
in an undertone, and the corporal immediately left the tent.
In a few minutes he returned, followed by Captain Hopkins, who entered
with a look of eager expectation on his face.
‘Do you recognise this man, captain?’ asked the provost-marshal.—‘You,
Sykes, come forward into the light.’
‘Recognise him! I should think so,’ exclaimed Hopkins, as Ephraim obeyed
the order. ‘That is the rascal who personated a sentry by the river
bank, stole the despatch by means of a trick, and set my boat adrift.’
‘You are certain that you are not mistaken, captain?’
‘Absolutely. The interview was too fruitful in consequences to allow me
to forget the interviewer. I would have picked this man out of a whole
regiment.’
The provost-marshal looked at Ephraim. ‘You hear the charge,’ he said
briefly. ‘What have you to say?’
‘Waal, I han’t denied it,’ answered Ephraim.
‘You mean that you admit that you took the despatch from Captain
Hopkins. I understand you to admit that.’
‘It ain’t much use my doin’ anythin’ else, so fur ez I kin see,’
returned Ephraim. ‘Yes; I stopped him and took the despatch.’
‘Good! Your intention, of course, was to deliver it to the enemy?’
‘Nary a doubt er thet,’ admitted Ephraim.
‘By whom you were commissioned to enter our lines and collect whatever
information you could?’
‘Not at all,’ answered Ephraim sharply. ‘It war jest ez I told ye. I war
a civilian tryin’ to escape out of yer lines. But the chance came ter
me, and I took it.’
‘I need not tell you in return that the taking of that chance will cost
you your life; for civilian though you may be, you are probably
acquainted with the punishment incurred by a spy. It matters not at all
that the paper has not been found upon you, since you have been
identified and have confessed your guilt’——
‘Guilt!’ put in Ephraim quietly. ‘I han’t confessed to any guilt ez fur
ez I know. I don’t call it a crime ter try and serve my country,
whatever ye may do.’
‘We won’t go into the question of patriotism either,’ returned the
provost-marshal. ‘Unfortunately for you, when a man is caught serving
his country in the particular fashion in which you have elected to serve
yours, there is only one thing to be done with him.’
‘I’d like ter be allowed ter ask ye, Mister Marshal,’ said Ephraim, ‘ef
thar air none er your men prowlin’ around our lines jest ter see what
they kin pick up? What’s the difference between them and me? Ain’t they
servin’ their country, too, accordin’ ter their lights?’
‘I’ll allow that,’ answered the provost-marshal. ‘And if your fellows
can lay them by the heels, they will serve them as we shall serve
you—namely, hang them. But now, my man, seeing that you can’t get off,
and that there is but one end in store for you, you may as well tell me
what you have done with the despatch.’
‘It’ll make no difference to me, ye say? Ter the hangin’, thet is?’
queried Ephraim.
The provost-marshal shook his head. ‘Not the slightest,’ he said.
‘Then hang away and welcome. Ye’ll git no more out er me.’
The provost-marshal considered for a moment. It was important to
ascertain if possible whether the despatch had reached the enemy or not.
Finally he said: ‘Understand me, my man: I am empowered to deal
summarily with cases like yours. I might condemn you out of hand; but if
you will tell me truly what you have done with the despatch, I will give
you this further chance, that I will refer your case to the general in
the morning. Speak out now.’
Ephraim considered in his turn. He did not give much for the grace of
being brought face to face with General Shields, who he did not doubt
would instantly recognise him as the purloiner of his breakfast and the
_soi-disant_ ‘Trailing Terror,’ and so the matter would become more
hopelessly complicated than ever. But life was sweet, and if he could
gain a respite of only a few hours, there was no saying what might
happen in the interval. He had risked his life, and would have done so
again, to carry the despatch to the Confederate General; but seeing that
it was lost and he could by no possibility discover it, why should he
not simply say so and take the proffered advantage?
‘Well,’ said the provost-marshal at last, ‘have you made up your mind?’
‘I hev, sir,’ answered Ephraim. ‘But if I tell ye the truth ye’ll maybe
not b’leeve me.’
‘Say your say, and we shall see,’ returned the other; ‘but I seriously
advise you not to attempt to put me off with any cock-and-bull story.’
‘Waal,’ began Ephraim, ‘I ’low I might bluff ye by tellin’ ye thet I’d
got thet despatch across the lines, fer I reckon thet’s the idee thet’s
makin’ ye oncomfortable; but if I’d got thet fur with it, I wouldn’t hev
been sech a born fool ez to come back jest fer the pleasure er bein’
hung. The plain truth is, I don’t know whar it is any more than ye do
yerself.’
‘Do you mean that you have lost it?’
‘Nuthin’ less. I had it hyar in this pouch jest before thet rumpus with
the sergeant at the end of the ditch, and I reckon it must hev fell out
somewhar thar.’ Ephraim did honestly believe this to be the case.
‘If you had had an accomplice, it would have been a simple matter to
pass the paper on to him,’ said the provost-marshal, regarding him
doubtfully.
‘Ye may be easy on thet score,’ replied Ephraim firmly. ‘I got hold er
the despatch by myself without the help er any one. I carried it in this
pouch, ez I war tellin’ ye, and I know thet I had it jest before the row
began. Maybe it’s lyin’ around loose on the ground somewhar thar. I’m
tellin’ ye the truth and no lies,’ he added earnestly. ‘B’leeve me or
not, thet’s my last word.’
The provost-marshal rose to his feet, ‘Captain Hopkins,’ he said,
‘return to your quarters. I will send for you when I require you.’ Then
as the captain went out: ‘Corporal, place this man under guard.
Afterwards take your men and return to the spot where you arrested this
spy. Make a thorough search of the ground in the vicinity. If you find
the despatch, bring it at once to me. If not, come back here with the
prisoner at dawn.’
‘Very good, sir,’ answered the corporal.—‘What shall I do about the
man’s wound, sir?’
‘Oh, thet’s nuthin’,’ put in Ephraim. ‘I don’t know it’s thar sence ye
tied it up.’
‘The sentry can be told to send for a surgeon if it becomes necessary
during the night,’ said the provost-marshal. ‘Remove the prisoner.’
The corporal retired with Ephraim, whom he immediately conducted to an
empty tent, before the door of which he set a sentry. Then he unslung
his canteen and laid it down on the ground beside the prisoner, and a
moment later forced a great handful of biscuit upon him.
‘There,’ he said good-naturedly, ‘you won’t starve now, and if your
shoulder troubles you, hail the sentry and he’ll send for a surgeon.
I’ve told him.’
’Tain’t wuth it fer all the time I’ll know I’ve got an arm,’ said
Ephraim gloomily.
‘Oh, maybe it’ll not be so bad as that. If we find the despatch, you may
get off I don’t say you will; but I hope so, for I like your pluck in
standing up to a giant like Sergeant Mason.’
‘I’m obleeged ter ye,’ said Ephraim more heartily. ‘I hadn’t looked fer
so much kindness from a Yank.’
‘Ah, we’re not so black as we’re painted down South,’ laughed the
corporal. ‘And we’re all Americans, if it comes to the pinch, and don’t
you forget it.’
He nodded kindly and went out, leaving Ephraim alone with his
reflections.
They were not pleasant, as may well be imagined. The lad was brave, but
it takes a considerable supply of somewhat unusual fortitude to enable
one to wait through the dark watches of the night, looking forward to
the death which is to come with the dawn, and strive as he would,
Ephraim found it hard to put the dismal prospect from him.
‘I wish they’d hung me out er hand,’ he said to himself. ‘It would hev
been over by now. It’s the thinkin’ what’s ter come thet makes me sick.’
He rose and paced backwards and forwards in his narrow prison. ‘God be
thanked, Luce warn’t with me,’ ran his thoughts. ‘Ef he’s had any luck,
he’ll be safe in our lines by now. But I wish I knew. I wish I knew.
Luce’ll be sorry when he comes ter hear er this. We’ve always been sech
friends. Thar’s on’y him and Aunty Chris. Luce’ll take keer on her; I
bet he will. I’d like ter see him once more before I die; but I wouldn’t
hev him hyar fer thet. By time! no. I wonder will it hurt. I dunno, but
I’d ruther they’d shoot me; but I s’pose I ain’t good enuff fer thet.
Waal, I reckon it won’t take long either way. Funny, ain’t it, ter hev
ter die? I reckon I orter be thinkin’ about heaven, ‘stead er which I’m
hankerin’ a good deal after this old earth. Anyway, I’ll try and fix my
thorts above, ez the minister said last Sabbath. Maybe it’ll do me good
and make me brave; but I reckon it’s none too easy.’
He knelt down upon the ground and covered his eyes with his hand, as if
with the sight of earth he would shut out all thoughts of it. Then from
his simple heart there welled a passionate prayer to God, not for his
own safety, for he considered that as a thing past praying for, but that
he might be able to look Death bravely in the face, and meet him as a
man should do—that God would take care of Aunty Chris, and bless and
keep Luce from harm—‘Let him git home! Let him git thar!‘—and he was
done.
He rose to his feet, refreshed in spirit and steadier in his nerves.
Hope seemed to have returned to him, and there was something like a
smile upon his lips as he stowed away the biscuit which the corporal had
given him in his pockets.
‘Ye never know when they might come in handy,’ he muttered.—‘Hello! What
do ye want?’
For the sentry had put his head through the opening of the tent,
obscuring the faint light that entered there.
‘‘St!’ whispered the sentry. ‘Don’t make a noise. By time! Grizzly, I’m
sorry ter see ye fixed up like this.’
[Illustration]
[Illustration]