IMPORTANT NEWS
In spite of the recognized fact that these men were enemies, my heart
throbbed, almost in pride, as I watched them pass. They were Americans,
and magnificent fighting men. I had seen them, or their fellows, in the
ruck and toil of battle, playing with death, smiling in the face of
defeat. Now they were marching grimly forward to another clash of arms,
through the blinding dust, heedless of all else but duty. This was what
stirred me. No proud review, with glittering uniforms and waving flags,
would have choked my throat, or dimmed my eyes, as did the sight of that
plodding, silent column, half hidden under the dust cloud, uniforms
almost indistinguishable, officers and men mingled, the drums still, the
only sounds the steady tread, the occasional hoarse shout of command.
Here was no pomp and circumstance, but grim purpose personified in
self-sacrifice and endurance. With heads bowed, and limbs moving
wearily, guns held at will, they swept by in unbroken column--cavalry,
artillery, infantry--scarcely a face lifted to glance toward the house,
with here and there a straggler limping to the roadside, or an aide
spurring past--just a stream of armed men, who had been plodding on
since daylight, footsore, hungry, unseeing, yet ready to die in battle
at their commander's word. It was war; it was magnificent.
Yet suddenly there recurred to me my own small part in this great
tragedy. Here was opportunity. Down below, on the front steps, stood the
old judge, and beside him Miss Hardy, forgetful for the time of all else
save those passing troops. I sprang from the chair, drew the bed back to
the centre of the room, and began my assault on the wall. There was no
necessity now for silence, and I dug recklessly into the mortar with my
broken knife blade, wrenching forth the loosened stones, until I had
thus successfully opened a space amply sufficient for my purpose. A
glance down the chimney was not reassuring, no gleam of light being
visible, yet I was desperate enough to take the chance of discovering
some opening below. There remained but this one means of attaining the
lower floor, and no time for hesitation. I tore both sheets from the
bed, binding them securely together, and twisting them into a rope
strong enough to sustain my weight. The bed-post served to secure one
end; the other I dropped down the interior of the chimney. A glance from
the window exhibited a double line of canvas-covered wagons creaking
past, mules toiling wearily in the traces, under close guard of a squad
of infantry. The judge and the girl were still outside. I was back
instantly, and clambered recklessly into the hole.
I went down slowly, clinging desperately to the twisted sheets, unable
to gain the slightest purchase on the smoothly plastered side walls. My
fingers slipped, but I managed to hang on until I reached the very end
of my improvised rope, my feet dangling, my arms aching from the weight.
To hold on longer was seemingly impossible, yet I could neither see nor
feel bottom. I let go, confident the distance could not be great, and
came down without much shock a half-dozen feet below. I was in a large
fire-place, apparently never utilized, the opening entirely covered by a
screen of cast-iron. This fitted closely, but was unfastened, and, after
feeling about cautiously in the darkness, I pushed it slightly to one
side, and peered forth.
A large, rather handsomely furnished room was revealed, evidently a
back-parlor, closed folding doors being conspicuous in the front wall.
Three windows faced the north, their curtains partially drawn, and I
could perceive through them the lattice work of a porch, covered with
the green and red of a rambler rose. I recognized instantly the
situation; this room was opposite, directly across the hall from where
we had eaten breakfast, its windows also commanding a view of the road.
Impelled by a desire to see what was continuing to take place without, I
stole silently across the soft carpet, and peered forth. The last of the
wagon train was lumbering past, and back of these, just wheeling around
the corner, approached another column of horsemen. It would be madness
for me to emerge from concealment yet, for even if I remained unnoticed
by those marching troops, still there would surely be some stragglers
about the premises seeking water. I sat down, staring out, endeavoring
to decide about how large this Confederate force was--surely it composed
all of Beauregard's corps, and, once united with Johnston, would render
the Federal position extremely dangerous, perhaps untenable. Yet even
now my warning of the sudden movement would be of comparatively small
value, as the gap was too nearly closed for any swift advance to
separate the two armies. All I could hope to accomplish was to prevent a
surprise attack on our own exposed lines. And this could never be
attempted before the next morning, even if Johnston swung his columns
to the left in anticipation of Beauregard's approach. The troops were
too thoroughly exhausted by the forced march to be hurled immediately
into battle--they must be fed and rested first. Convinced as to this I
remained quiet, glancing idly about the room, until sounds outside
attracted attention.
A company--or possibly two--of cavalry was drawn up on the road directly
fronting the house, their centre opposite the open gate, but I was
compelled to lean out in order to discover just what was occurring on
the driveway. A squad of a dozen horsemen, powdered with dust, yet
excellently mounted, were riding slowly toward the veranda. The man
slightly in advance was slender, with dark moustache and goatee, sitting
straight in his saddle, and on the collar of his gray coat were the
stars of a general officer. Even the hasty glance gained told me his
identity--Beauregard. As this cavalcade turned at the corner of the
house, I drew back, shadowed by the curtain, able thus both to see and
hear. At the bottom of the steps the Confederate chieftain halted, and
bowed, hat in hand.
"Judge Moran, I presume. While we have never previously met, yet your
name has long been familiar. Probably I need not introduce myself."
The judge, his face beaming hospitality, grasped the outstretched hand,
but Beauregard's dark, appreciative eyes were upon the girl standing at
Moran's side.
"Your daughter, sir?" he asked quickly.
"Not so fortunate, General. This is Miss Willifred Hardy, of the
'Gables.'"
"Ah, yes!" the stern face instantly brightened by a rare smile. "The
same fair heroine who brought the despatches from Johnston. I hoped I
might reach here in time, my dear, to tell you in person how greatly I
appreciate your service. May I ask if you are Major Hardy's daughter?"
Her cheeks burning, she murmured "Yes," curtsying to his rather stately
bow.
"I knew your mother rather well in the old days,--a sweet girl, a Du
Verne, of Baton Rouge. You have her eyes and hair." He turned toward
Moran. "A courier but just arrived has brought me orders to halt my men,
as Johnston is marching westward, and it is imperative that we protect
the bridge yonder with sufficient force. Would it inconvenience you,
Judge, if I made your house my headquarters for the night?"
"Everything I possess is freely at your service."
"Thank you. From all I have heard I could never question the loyalty of
Judge Moran." He spoke a few short orders, swung down from the saddle,
and, followed by a half-dozen others, began climbing the steps, talking
with Miss Willifred. I heard the party enter the hall, and pause for a
moment, the sound of voices mingling but indistinguishable. Then a door
opened, and the men trooped into the front parlor. There was a rattle as
accoutrements were laid aside; then a table was drawn forth, and
Beauregard's voice spoke:
"The portfolio, Sternes; now, Captain, let me read over that last
despatch again. Ah, yes, I see. Is Colonel O'Neil waiting? Tell him to
post Williams' brigade at the bridge, with Ozark's battery. Pickets
should be advanced at least two miles. Lieutenant Greer, ride to the
Three Corners, and have the regimental commanders close all gaps in the
line; in case of attack we must be able to exhibit a solid front. A
moment, Major Mason,--you are to bear my report to Johnston." There
followed the rapid scratching of a pen, and a subdued murmur of voices.
Then the deep bass of the general again broke in: "You may as well
clearly understand the proposed plans, gentlemen, so you can execute my
orders with intelligence. They are extremely simple; our main attack
will be directed against the enemy's left flank; the troops selected for
this service will cross at the lower ford early to-morrow night. Our own
movements will depend altogether upon the success of Johnston's
advance. Chambers will be up sometime to-night, and will hold a position
at rear of the centre in reserve. Is this sufficiently clear?"
"Do we cross the bridge?"
"Not until Johnston informs us his assaulting column is in touch with
the enemy."
"There is no absolute hour set?"
"No; that will depend upon the arrival of Chambers. And now, gentlemen,
we will adjourn to the dining-room."
They passed out, evidently in the best of humor, and I could hear them
chatting and laughing in the hall. But my thoughts were now concentrated
upon my own work. This was important news I had overheard, and must be
in the possession of the Federal commander without delay. No personal
danger could be considered. But how was it possible to get away
unobserved? I was in full uniform, and unarmed; the house--now
Beauregard's headquarters--under close guard; the surrounding roads
lined with troops. It would be simply madness to attempt crossing the
river before nightfall, and yet I could not hope to remain where I was
all the afternoon without discovery. As soon as the duties of
hospitality were over Miss Willifred would certainly recall her
prisoner, and it could not be long before my escape from the room above
would be known. I must be safely out of the house before this occurred.
It seemed to me the stables offered the best hiding-place, or else the
deserted negro cabins.
I could examine the greater part of the front yard from the windows, the
squad of troopers camped near the gate, and the sentinel pacing before
the steps, but was compelled to lean far out to gain any glimpse of the
rear. I could perceive no soldiers in this direction, however, and was
encouraged to note a long grape arbor, thickly overgrown with vines,
extending from the house to the other extremity of the garden. Once
safely within its shadow I might get through unseen. And there was but
one means of attaining the grape arbor--through the back hall, _via_
either the kitchen or the cellar. I opened the door with all possible
caution, and took silent survey of the hall. The front door stood open
and a guard was stationed without, but with his back toward me. I could
hear voices in the dining-room, but the hall itself appeared deserted,
and, feeling that it was either now or never, I slipped forth, and
started toward the rear. There were two doors, one at the very extremity
of the hall, the other upon the right, both closed. Uncertain which to
choose I tried the first I came to, but, even as I cautiously turned the
knob, the second was opened from without, and a man entered hurriedly.
We stared into each others' faces, both too completely surprised for
speech. He was a cavalry sergeant, a gray-beard, and, with my first
movement, was tugging at a weapon.
"Hold on there, my buck!" he said gruffly. "None o' that, now. By God!
it's a Yank. Bill, come here."
The guard at the front door ran down the hall toward us, his gun thrown
forward.