THE ARREST OF A SPY
Jeanne soon accustomed herself to the life of the camp, but she did not
grow fond of it as Bob was. By her gentle way and pleasant manners she
became quite a favorite with Colonel Peyton, but Bob reigned supreme in
the hearts of the men. She petted and scolded them as if they were her
brothers, and Jeanne wondered when she saw how the strong men submitted
to her least command. But the secret lay in the fact that the Southern
girl adored the soldiers and they knew it.
"It's the smartest regiment in the whole Confederacy," declared Bob with
shining eyes to Jeanne one day. "I don't believe that there is another
like it in the world."
"Dick's regiment is very gallant," said Jeanne, a trifle wistfully. "It
has been complimented publicly on account of its bravery."
"Well, it can't beat the 'Die No Mores,'" said Bob. "The boys have been
specially good this week. Dad said last night that not a man had been
under arrest for five days. I always sing to them when that happens."
"Do you sing, Bob?"
"Yes; I have quite a good voice," said Bob in such a matter-of-fact way
that the other girl smiled. "Do you?"
"A little," acknowledged Jeanne. "Father used to like to hear me."
"Then we will give the boys a good time to-night. They like singing and
dad thinks it helps to keep them cheerful. They often sing themselves."
"I have heard them in the evening, and I like it when they do not sing
rebel songs," said honest Jeanne.
"Well, you can hardly expect them to sing any other, can you?" demanded
Bob. "I don't suppose that you do like it. I shouldn't want to hear the
Federal songs if I were in one of their camps. But the spirits of the men
must be kept up for we expect to meet the enemy soon."
"Do you?" cried Jeanne. "Oh, Bob, do you think that I could go to my side?"
"I don't know, Jeanne. Dad said, you know, that it would be best to go to
Jackson with us and then he would send you to the Federals. You wouldn't
be any nearer getting home with a party of skirmishers than you are with
us."
"I suppose not," sighed Jeanne, "but it would be something to be with my
own people."
"We'll see," replied Bob. "Although I don't like to have you leave,
Jeanne. It is a great deal nicer with you here. Dad likes it too, I know,
for he said to me yesterday: 'Barbara,' he always calls me Barbara when he
is serious, 'I like that little lady. You would please me if you would
model your manners after hers. You are a bit hoydenish in your ways,
and it grieves me. Fine manners are to a girl as the perfume is to a
flower.' I said, copy-book style: 'Honored and respected parent, after
having brought me up according to military regulations, don't you think it
is a little unjust to twit me with my manners? If they are lacking, blame
the code, not me.' And then I saluted, and retired, gracefully, I hope. At
any rate the shot told for I heard him laughing as I went out. Now,
Miss Vance, let me have a lesson. I suppose it's proper to begin with
prunes and prisms. There! do I say that right?"
"Oh, Bob," cried Jeanne laughing as Bob perked up her mouth in a funny
little grimace. "What a girl you are!"
"I hope you are well," went on Bob with a fine affectation of young
ladyism. "Beautiful weather we're having, aren't we? There! Do you think
dad will like that?"
"I like you better your own natural self, and I think that he does too,"
said Jeanne. "My ways don't suit you, Bob, and yours would not suit me.
But I am sure that you could have a fine manner without modeling after
me. I like you best just as you are."
"So do I," said Bob, tucking her arm comfortably within Jeanne's. "And
so does dad but he doesn't know it. I don't want him to get too fond of
you."
Night came and as usual the soldiers gathered around the fires to sing
songs and to tell stories. Presently Bob came among them to fulfill her
promise to sing to them. Jeanne accompanied her, and the Northern girl
wondered at the self-possession and ease with which the Colonel's daughter
stood before so many men and sang. But the Southern girl was so accustomed
to the soldiers that she thought nothing of it. Song after song she sang
responding with the utmost good nature to the repeated requests for
more. At last she cried:
"Just one more, boys, and I must stop, for I am tired. What shall it be?"
"The Bonnie Blue Flag," cried several voices.
"Very well," and Bob began instantly:
"'We are a band of brothers, and natives to the soil,
Fighting for the property we gained by honest toil;
And when our rights were threatened, the cry rose near and far,
Hurrah for the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star!
* * * * * * *
"'Then here's to our Confederacy; strong we are and brave;
Like patriots of old we'll fight our heritage to save;
And rather than submit to shame, to die we would prefer;
So cheer for the bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.
"'Then cheer, boys, cheer; raise the joyous shout,
For Arkansas and North Carolina now have both gone out;
And let another rousing cheer for Tennessee be given.
The single star of the bonnie Blue Flag has grown to be eleven.'"
"Three cheers for the bonnie Blue Flag," called a voice and with a shout
the soldiers responded.
"Now three for our beloved president, Jefferson Davis! And three for the
Confederacy!" The men responded lustily.
"And three cheers and a tiger for Miss Bob, the child of the regiment,"
shouted another enthusiastically.
These had scarcely died away when some one called. "Why can't the 'Little
Yank' give us a song?"
"Yes, yes; the 'Little Yank,'" came from all sides.
For a moment Jeanne hesitated, and then she stepped forward into the
place which Bob had vacated. Her heart beat fast as she looked into the
expectant faces before her.
"I will sing of a flag too," she said in clear thrilling tones. With a
quick motion she drew the stars and stripes from her bosom and shaking
out its folds began earnestly:
"'Oh! say can you see by the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming,
Whose stripes and bright stars, thro' the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watch'd were so gallantly streaming;
And the rockets, red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there!'"
For a few moments every one was still amazed at the girl's audacity, but
as the last strain of the first stanza came from her lips a hoarse, angry
murmur went up from the soldiers, and there was a movement toward her.
But Jeanne heeded it not and in triumphant tones began the chorus:
"'Oh! say, does that star spangled banner yet wave,
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!'"
"Chuck that!" growled one of the men.
"Stow it, or it will be the worst for you," called another.
"You asked me to sing," said the girl undauntedly. "And I will choose my
own song."
"She is right," and Colonel Peyton pushed his way to her side. "You asked
her, boys, and she can sing what she chooses. Take your medicine like men."
Sullenly the soldiers settled back into their places while Jeanne
courageously finished her song.
"It wasn't right," said Bob angrily as Jeanne joined her. "You didn't
treat the boys right. If dad hadn't been there they wouldn't have stood
it."
"If they don't want to hear such things they must not ask me to sing,"
cried Jeanne, her eyes blazing. "I am compelled to hear treason every day."
"You don't need to stay here," flashed Bob.
"I am sure that I don't want to," answered Jeanne. "I want to go to my
own people and I will go to-morrow if your father will let me. I don't
stay because I want to."
"Well, you needn't be so glad to be rid of us," and the tears welled up
into Bob's eyes. "I am sure that we are good to you."
"Yes; you are," and Jeanne went to her quickly. "I shall be sorry to leave
you, Bob, but I do want to see my father and my mother. It has been so
long, so long." She turned away to hide her tears.
"Yes, it has;" and Bob put her arm within Jeanne's affectionately. "I am
sure that I don't blame you for wanting to see them. I don't know why I
say such mean things, Jeanne. I wish we didn't quarrel."
"Maybe we can't help it," answered Jeanne, pressing her arm.
"No; I suppose you can't help being a Yankee," said Bob, so dolefully that
Jeanne laughed.
"I don't want to," she said. "I am not sorry that you are a Southerner,
but I wish you were for the Union."
"Well, I don't, and so there we are! I suppose that there is just one
thing to do," and Bob nodded her head sagely, "and that is not to quarrel
any more than we can help. When we do we'll make up, won't we?"
"Yes," answered Jeanne. "We will."
Once more the two were friends, and thus the days passed. October waned
and soon rested with the other months of the dying year, and chill
November reigned supreme. Still the order to move did not come. There
was an uneasiness in the Colonel's manner as his scouts brought in news
each day that the country surrounding Jackson was filling up with Federals.
One morning a number of the companies of the regiment left the camp, and
Bob confided to Jeanne the news that they expected to be in an engagement
before they returned.
Jeanne, thrilled by the intelligence that she was so near to her own
people, sat thoughtfully in front of the tent devoted to the use of the
girls.
"Would it not be possible," she wondered, "for me to join them? These
people are kind and good, but would it not be much better for me to be
with those of my own side? If I were with them they could send me to some
place where it would be safe for me to take the cars for home. Father and
mother must be so worried. I will see Colonel Peyton and ask him what
he thinks of it," she cried, springing to her feet.
She hastened toward the tent of the commander, reaching it at the same
time as a number of soldiers did. A man was in their midst who, although
he wore a suit of butternut, seemed to be a prisoner. Jeanne paused as
the men stopped directly in front of her, and gave a cry of amazement at
sight of the man.
"You," she cried, in agitated tones. "Oh, I thought that you were on our
side!"
A loud burst of laughter came from the soldiers, and the prisoner became
very pale.
"I reckon the 'Little Yank' has called your death sentence, pardner," said
one of the Confederates, roughly. "That shows that you are a spy all right
enough."
"A spy," cried Jeanne, a light flooding her mind. "Oh, what have I done?
What have I done?"
"Do not grieve," said the young man, who was none other than the officer
whom she had aided in Memphis. "They strongly suspected it any way, and
were taking me to their Commanding officer for examination."
"There doesn't need to be much examination," said a Confederate, bluntly.
"Colonel Peyton will make short work of you."
"Whom did you say?" cried the young man in such agonized tones that all
turned to look at him.
"Colonel Peyton," was the reply. "Here he is now."
"What does this mean, boys?" asked Colonel Peyton, appearing in the door
of his tent. "What is the disturbance?"
"A feller that we caught sneaking round the camp," answered the leader,
gruffly. "He claims to be a Southerner, and I reckon he is one all right,
but his actions are decidedly suspicious. We were bringing him to you
when this girl recognized him, and called the turn on him as belonging to
the Federals."
"He is that worst of men, a Southerner who has turned against the State
that gave him birth and who takes up arms against her," said the Colonel
sternly, yet with emotion. "I know him, men, personally. He is an officer
in the Federal army. If he was prowling about here in those clothes he
is without doubt a spy. Unhappy man," he continued, turning to the
prisoner, "what have you to say for yourself?"
"Nothing," and the young fellow bowed his head upon his breast.
"You know the penalty of being caught as a spy," went on the pitiless
voice of the Colonel. "A spy is one of the most dishonorable of men, and
deserves any death given him. We have not much time for such. You die
at sunrise. Take him, men, and guard him well. I believe him to be a
dangerous man."
He turned back into his tent, and the soldiers started away with him, when
Jeanne darted to the young man's side, and caught his hand between her own.
"Forgive me," she sobbed. "I did not know what I was doing. Forgive me."
"Never mind, child," said the young officer, drearily. "It would have
happened any way. He knew me. I would rather have died in battle, but
after all I have been doing my duty. It is not death I fear, but----"
"But what?" asked Jeanne, as he paused.
"It breaks my heart to be condemned to death by my own father," came the
agonized reply.