Produced by Annie McGuire
[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]
Copyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.
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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JULY 2, 1895. FIVE CENTS A COPY.
VOL. XVI.--NO. 818. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
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[Illustration]
A MISPLACED "FOURTH."
BY JAMES BARNES.
The male population of Middleton, Ohio, in the early summer of 186-
appeared to consist altogether of old men and boys. True, a few young
men, most of them dressed in blue coats with brass buttons, were to be
seen on the streets, but nearly all of them carried their arms in
slings, and one tall lad of twenty, who had once been the best runner in
the village, hobbled along on crutches, with an empty trouser leg pinned
up at the knee.
One bright morning three Middleton boys were sitting astride the top
rail of a zigzag fence that ran along a hillside at the edge of a
thicket of underbrush. A long Kentucky rifle lay across a near-by log.
One of the boys held in his hand a glass bottle slopped with a bit of
rag. Another had on a leather belt with "U.S." on the brass
plate--upside down. The third boy was digging at the rail with a dull
jackknife.
"I came near to running away and goin' as a drummer-boy," said the
youngster with the belt, "but they wouldn't take me on account of my
age. I'll be old enough this fall," he added. "Then you'll see."
"Your mother wouldn't let you go, Skinny," said the boy with the bottle.
"She told Grandad that two was enough."
"Father'd let me go if he warn't with Sherman," said Skinny, "and
brother Bill said I drummed good enough."
"My father wants me to stay home and look after ma," the second boy
sighed. There had been no news of his father for six months, now.
"I've got a letter from Alfred, written jes before he was taken
prisoner, I guess," said the third boy, closing his knife. He drew out
of his pocket an envelope with the picture of an American flag on it.
"Go on and read it to us," said the oldest boy, wriggling himself up
closer. And Hosmer Curtis began--following the words with his thumb:
"CRUMMS'S LANDING.
"DEAR BROTHER,--I wish I was to home to-night, with you all
sitting in the kitchen, and mother reading to us the way she used
to, rather than being here. I am writing this by moonlight mostly,
as it is getting late. We have had a big fight all day, but drove
the Rebs back across a crick into a swamp, where we captured a lot
of them stuck in the mud. I am dreadful sorry to say that Tom
Ditchard was killed. Poor Tom! I suppose the home papers will tell
all about it; he was shot fording the crick. I have his watch; he
gave it to me to bring back home. I hope I shall do so. To-morrow
we will move westward to head off Morgan, I guess; I hope we won't
march far, for my boots are all worn out, and my feet are sore.
But I am well; love to all, and kiss mother. I wrote her two days
ago.
"Your affec brother,
ALFRED.
"P.S.--The Fourth of July will soon be here. I suppose you will
have no fireworks, though perhaps we shall. Good-by."
"I don't know as I'd like to be a soldier," said the boy with the
gunpowder bottle--he was also the proud possessor of the long rifle.
"'Tisn't so much fun, I guess. Think so, Skinny?"
"You're a 'fraid-cat," returned the boy with the belt. "That's what you
are, Will Tevis."
The other flushed, but said nothing; he was by far the smallest of the
three.
"How do you know Alfred was captured?" said the thin one, after a
silence of a minute.
"He was on the missing list--that's all we know," said Hosmer, putting
the letter back into his pocket.
"It will be the Fourth in two days, now," remarked Skinny, as if to
change the subject. "But I hain't heard any talk about any celebration."
"Let's have one all to ourselves," suggested Hosmer.
"What with?" asked the smallest boy. "I guess this is all the gunpowder
there is in town." He held up the bottle. "'Tain't more'n three charges,
anyhow," he added.
"I know where there's all the powder you want to look at," said the thin
warrior, who jumped suddenly down from the fence. "Oh! and I say, you
know the two old iron cannon--if we could only get them out--hey?"
"They're locked up in the engine-house," rejoined Master Tevis.
"What's the matter with an anvil? It makes a lot of noise," suggested
Hosmer. "Where do you get the powder, Skinny?"
"Skinny," whose real name was Ambrose F. Skinner, Jun., assumed a very
mysterious air.
"Now, listen, and I'll tell you," he said. "You remember when they had
that smash up on the railroad last week--don't you?"
"You mean the train going South to the army?" asked Hosmer.
"Yep, that's it. Happened last Thursday," responded Ambrose, growing
excited. "Well! they ran two banged-up cars back on the siding above the
river-bridge, and left 'em. I guess they forgot, p'r'aps. But the
worst-busted car is loaded with powder. I saw the barrels: one of them
had a big hole in it. I say, come along, I'll show you. 'Tain't far."
"Come on; let's!" was the united answer. The two listeners jumped to the
ground, and Master Tevis picked up the rifle. Then the three struck off
across the hill, and walked along a path through the thicket of
scrub-oak.
In a few minutes the boys were standing beside two heavy freight-cars on
a crooked timber switch. The end of one had been broken in as if by a
collision, and the trucks of both were injured.
Skinny climbed into the wrecked car, and lifted the end of a tarpauling
that covered some barrels.
"There you are," he said, triumphantly. "All the powder you want--nuff
to blow up the town."
"I don't suppose they'll let 'em stay here very long," said Hosmer.
"But they can't send them South on the road now," remarked Tevis. "The
big bridge is down ten miles below--heard tell of it last night. They
will have to go back the other way; not a train's been through for forty
hours."
Tevis's grandfather was the station-agent at Middleton, and he spoke
with an air of certain knowledge.
"Come, hand up your bottle and we will fill her up," said Skinner,
extending his hand.
Will Tevis paused. "I say, fellows," he said, "I don't think it would be
right. Do you, Hosmer?"
"A bottleful would never be missed," interposed Skinny. "There's more'n
that spilled here on the floor. We _must_ celebrate the Fourth. Why not,
boys? Eh!"
It was evident that Master Skinner's intentions were liable to change,
however, and that some scruples were arising even in his mind, for he
said, testily,
"You're a 'fraid-cat, Will Tevis."
The latter put down the rifle. "If you say that again, Ambrose Skinner,
I'll fight you," he said.
"Oh, come, don't talk like that," said Hosmer, quietly. "Will is right,
Skinny; we oughtn't to touch the powder. It belongs to Uncle Sam."
"He would not miss a handful," said Skinny, shame-facedly. Then he
added, "I guess you _are_ right, though, come to think. Let's go back to
the village; it's most four o'clock."
The boys walked down the grade. A mile away was a wooden box-bridge with
a carriageway on one side and the single track on the other. It spanned
a deep and swiftly running stream that opened into the Ohio River a few
leagues below. It was here the accident had taken place.
As they came into the village street they saw that a crowd had collected
around the post-office.
"News from the front!" shouted Tevis, in the familiar words they had so
often heard; and the trio started forward on a run.
On the outside of the post-office shutters was a big placard drawn
hastily up in red ink:
THE REBELS ARE IN OHIO!
GENERAL MORGAN CROSSES THE RIVER!
GREAT ALARM! TWO BATTLES FOUGHT!
These words stared them in the face. The news had come by telegram from
Turkeyville; but soon after the line had ceased to work, and no
particulars could be obtained. It was late that night when the boys went
to bed. The morrow was to be an eventful one for Middleton, and there
was a feeling of uneasiness in the air.
The next day was the 3d of July.
Will Tevis was awakened by a tremendous clangor of bells.
"Fire!" shouted Will, making one dive from the bed to the window.
He opened the shutters with a crash; but not a sign of smoke was there
to be seen. What could it mean?
"Sounds like the Fourth," he said, leaning over the sill and craning his
neck to right and left.
The Tevis house was far up the slope, on which the village stood, and
Will could look down one of the long streets. He saw people running from
the houses and heading for the Court-house square.
He hurried on his clothes, jumped down the back stairs, and rushed to
the street, joining his grandfather on the way. At the gate as they
turned into the dusty road they met Ambrose Skinner.
"Heard the news?" he yelled, as he approached.
"What is it? Has any one surrendered?" asked old Mr. Tevis,
breathlessly.
"No!" shouted Skinny, at the top of his lungs, although he was quite
near. "The Rebels are coming! I'm off to summon Judge Black. They're
going to hold a meeting at the Court-house." On he ran.
Grandfather Tevis surprised himself, for in his excitement he had struck
into a long swinging gait that compelled Will to his best efforts to
keep up.
At the square all was confusion. The Middleton "Home Guards" were there,
forty-eight in number, composed mostly of men who were too old for
service. There was not a leader among them.
Mr. Tevis forced his way into a room on the ground-floor of the
Court-house. Somebody held up his hand to enjoin silence.
"They are receiving a telegram from Dresden down the river," whispered
a short, pale-faced man, in Mr. Tevis's ear.
There was a single wire connecting Middleton with Dresden, twenty-one
miles to the westward. The nervous operator was translating the dots and
dashes into words.
"The-rebels-are-in-full-sight-now-entering-the-town.
The-home-guards-have-run-away." Then there was a pause.
"The-rebels-are-breaking-into-the-stores.
They-have-not-come-to-the-rail-way-station-yet."
"He is a brave man to stick to his post so," said Mr. Tevis, out loud.
"Hush," said the pale-faced man; "here he comes again."
"Tick-a-tick," began the instrument.
"A-battery-of-artillery-is-with-them. They-are-here-at-the-station. I--"
The instrument stopped suddenly.
"Something has happened," said the operator, breathlessly.
"Call him up," said some one.
"He does not answer," said the operator, after a few minutes. But as he
spoke a slow ticking came from the receiver.
"Hello!" it spelled, laboriously.
"That isn't Jed Worth," said the operator. "Some one else has got hold
of the wire."
"Hold on; ask who it is," said Mr. Tevis.
Then an idea came in Will Tevis' head, and he spoke up. "Ask if it is
Frank," he said.
"What for?" inquired the operator, with his fingers on the key.
"Because if they answer yes, you will know they are trying to fool you,"
he said.
There was a murmur of approval.
"Is-that-you-Frank?" telegraphed the operator.
"Yes," came the unhesitating answer.
"Ask him if he has seen anything of the Rebs," suggested Mr. Tevis.
"No," was the response to this inquiry, "not one."
"He's a pretty good liar," said the pale-faced man, half to himself. The
instrument began to work again.
"Are there any troops at Middleton," slowly asked the Reb operator down
the line.
An answer was clicked back hastily.
"I told him that we had a regiment and two batteries of artillery,"
whispered the young man at the desk, smiling.
"Why under the sun didn't you make it an army corps," said Mr. Tevis.
The operator tried again, but no answer came. Dresden had switched off
for good. A bustle and a cheer outside in the square showed that
something was going forward. Judge Black had arrived. The Judge was a
veteran of the Mexican war; his age alone had prevented him from
accepting a commission in the army; but the village had a great respect
for his military knowledge. He was offered the command of the forces by
the Mayor; about four hundred had gathered; but there were no more than
seventy muskets, with less than four rounds apiece. A search of the town
shops disclosed the fact that there were but ten pounds of good powder
to be had. Now "Skinny" came to the rescue with the same words he had
used on the day before.
"I know where there's all the powder you want," he said, and he told of
the freight-car on the siding. Despite the broken truck it was brought
down the grade to the station, and two barrels were unloaded.
"Why not blow up the bridge?" suggested Will to his grandfather in a
whisper, which the Judge overheard.
"We may have to come to that," said the Judge, turning.
"We'll leave that to the last, though. Now we must throw up
intrenchments, and mount our two field-pieces. What's in those crates?"
"Uniforms, by jingo!" said a man inside the car.
"Get them out," said the Judge; "our forces must be uniformed. Have
those mounted scouts been sent out?" he added.
"Yes, sir," said the Mayor; "an hour ago."
In a short time the slope below Middleton presented a curious sight;
four hundred men and boys dressed in new uniforms with shining brass
buttons were digging a long trench that stretched from the railway track
to a steep bluff on the east. The old iron guns were in a position to
command the bridge and the further bank. The freight-car with over two
tons of gunpowder on board was anchored firmly in the centre of the
bridge.
One man was left at the bridge to fire the train of powder if the enemy
advanced. About four o'clock a very respectable fortification had been
made at the bottom of the hill, and the few guns were distributed along
it. The little army paused to rest. The women and children had long ago
been sent north across the hills. At half past four a man on horseback
thundered across the bridge; he was closely followed by two others.
"The Rebs are coming!" they shouted. "Thousands of them."
In fact, almost at their heels rose a cloud of dust, and two or three
cavalrymen rode out on the bank of the river. They appeared surprised at
the line of earthworks, and the blue coats that here and there showed
plainly. In a few minutes more the bank was lined with rebel horsemen.
"Why doesn't he light the fuse?" said the Commander-in-chief, nervously
looking toward the bridge.
As he spoke a man ran up the track from the bridge; he turned and looked
back two or three times as if expecting something to happen. But nothing
happened.
"It failed to go off," said the man, out of breath, as he jumped into
the trench.
The Judge scowled at him. "Let go that battery," he said. "Commence
firing."
At the first discharge one of the old cannons burst, luckily hurting no
one, and the straggling volley that followed only showed to the enemy
the weakness of their opponents. A rebel with a powerful field-glass had
climbed a tree and taken in the situation. The enemy was preparing for
an advance. That was evident.
"Hang that fool!" said the Judge; "if he'd kept his wits about him, we'd
be safe. I don't believe he waited to strike a match. They could never
ford the river."
But he or no one else had seen a figure in a uniform much too big for
his small body steal across the track and crawl on all-fours down the
embankment on the further side. All at once they saw him emerge into
sight and dive into the shallow of the bridge. It was Will Tevis.
Just as the cavalry were preparing to charge, he came into sight again,
running swiftly down the middle of the track. A faint smoke arose from
the bridge entrance, several shots were fired at him; but on he came.
The intrenchments now broke out into flame just as there came a terrific
roar, a bursting rending sound, and the bridge disappeared. Will Tevis
in the ill-fitting uniform was a hero. The rebels were forced to keep
the other side of the swollen river, but exchanged shots for some time
before they drew away.
Coming up the hill late in the evening Hosmer and Will met Skinny.
"Where have you been?" they asked.
"Up in town looking for a drum," Skinny replied, flushing. "Will, I
'pologize for callin' you a 'fraid-cat."
The next day there was again no powder in the village; but Judge Black
made a speech which began, "On this glorious occasion."
"I wish we had some fireworks for to-night," said Hosmer, after the old
veteran had concluded.
"Never mind that, boys," said Grandfather Tevis, who had overheard. "You
boys had your Fourth yesterday."
SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.[1]
BY KIRK MUNROE.
CHAPTER XXXV.
HOW JALAP COOMBS MADE PORT.
The things on which we are apt to set the highest value in this world
are those that we have lost, and even our friends are, as a rule, most
highly appreciated after they have been taken from us. Thus, in the
present instance, Phil and Serge had so sincerely mourned the loss of
their quaint but loyal comrade, that his restoration to them alive and
well, "hearty _and_ hungry," as he himself expressed it, filled them
with unbounded joy. They hung about him, and lovingly brushed the snow
from his fur clothing, and plied him with many questions.
Even Nel-te showed delight at the return of his big playmate by cuddling
up to him, and stroking his weather-beaten cheeks, and confiding to him
how very hungry he was.
"Me too, Cap'n Kid!" exclaimed Jalap Coombs; "and I must say you're a
mighty tempting mossel to a man as nigh starved as I be. Jest about
boiling age, plump _and_ tender. Cap'n Kid, look out, for I'm mighty
inclined to stow ye away."
"Try this instead," laughed Phil, holding out a chunk of frozen pemmican
that he had just chopped off. "We're in the biggest kind of luck
to-day," he continued. "I didn't know there was a mouthful of anything
to eat on this sledge, and here I've just found about five pounds of
pemmican. It does seem to me the very best pemmican that was ever put
up, too, and I only wonder that we didn't eat it long ago. I'm going to
get my aunt Ruth to make me a lot of it just as soon as ever I get
home."
As they sat before the fire on a tree felled and stripped of its
branches for the purpose, and munched frozen pemmican, and took turns in
sipping strong unsweetened tea from the only cup now left to them, Jalap
Coombs described his thrilling experiences of the preceding night.
According to his story, one of his dogs gave out, and he stopped to
unharness it with the hope that it would still have strength to follow
the sledge. While he was thus engaged the storm broke, the blinding rush
of snow swept over the mountains, and as he looked up he found to his
dismay that the other sledge was already lost to view. He at once
started to overtake it, urging on the reluctant dogs by every means in
his power; but after a few minutes of struggle against the furious gale,
they lay down and refused to move. After cutting their traces that they
might follow him if they chose, the man set forth alone, with bowed and
uncertain steps, on a hopeless quest for his comrades. He did not find
them, as we know, though once he heard a faint cry from off to one side.
Heading in that direction, the next thing he knew he had plunged over
the precipice, and found himself sliding, rolling, and bounding downward
with incredible velocity.
"The trip must have lasted an hour or more," said Jalap Coombs, soberly,
in describing it, "and when I finally brung up all standing, I couldn't
make out for quite a spell whether I were still on top of the earth, or
had gone plumb through to the other side. I knowed every rib and timber
of my framing were broke, and every plank started; but somehow I managed
to keep my head above water, and struck out for shore. I made port under
a tree, and went to sleep. When I woke at the end of the watch, I found
all hatches closed and battened down. So I were jest turning over again
when I heerd a hail, and knowed I were wanted on deck. And, boys, I've
had happy moments in my life, but I reckon the happiest of 'em all were
when I broke out and seen you two with the kid, standing quiet _and_
respectful, and heerd ye saying, 'Good-morning, sir, and hoping you've
passed a quiet night,' like I were a full-rigged cap'n."
"As you certainly deserve to be, Mr. Coombs," laughed Phil, "and as I
believe you will be before long, for I don't think we can be very far
from salt water at this moment."
"It's been seeming to me that I could smell it!" exclaimed the
sailorman, eagerly sniffing the air as he spoke. "And, ef you're
agreeable, sir, I moves that we set sail for it at once. My hull's
pretty well battered and stove in, but top works is solid, standing and
running rigging all right, and I reckon by steady pumping we can
navigate the old craft to port yet."
"All aboard, then! Up anchor, and let's be off!" shouted Phil, so
excited at the prospect of a speedy termination to their journey that he
could not bear a moment's longer delay in attaining it.
So they set merrily and hopefully forth, and followed the windings of
the valley, keeping just beyond the forest edge. In summer-time they
would have found it filled with impassable obstacles--huge bowlders,
landslides, a network of logs and fallen trees, and a roaring torrent;
but now it was packed with snow to such an incredible depth that all
these things lay far beneath their feet and the way was made easy.
By nightfall they had reached the mouth of the valley, and saw, opening
before them, one so much wider that it reminded them of the broad
expanse of the frozen Yukon. The course of this new valley was almost
north and south, and they felt certain that it must lead to the sea. In
spite of their anxiety to follow it, darkness compelled them to seek a
camping-place in the timber. That evening they ate all that remained of
their pemmican, excepting a small bit that was reserved for Nel-te's
breakfast.
They made up, as far as possible, for their lack of food by building the
most gorgeous camp-fire of the entire journey. They felled several green
trees close together, and placed it on them so that it should not melt
its way down out of sight through the deep snow. Then they felled dead
trees and cut them into logs. These, together with dead branches, they
piled up, until they had a structure forty feet long by ten feet high.
They set fire to it with the last match in their possession, and as the
flames gathered headway and roared and leaped to the very tops of the
surrounding trees even Phil was obliged to acknowledge that at last he
was thoroughly and uncomfortably warm.
The following morning poor Jalap was so stiff and lame that his face was
contorted with pain when he attempted to rise. "Never mind," he cried,
cheerily, as he noted Phil's anxious expression. "I'll fetch it. Just
give me a few minutes' leeway."
And sure enough in a few minutes he was on his feet rubbing his legs,
stretching his arms, and twisting his body "to limber up the j'ints."
Although in a torment of pain he soon declared himself ready for the
day's tramp, and they set forth. Ere they had gone half a mile, however,
it was evident that he could walk no further. The pain of the effort was
too great even for his sturdy determination, and, when he finally sank
down with a groan, the boys helped him on the sledge, and attached
themselves to its pulling-bar with long thongs of rawhide.
The two stalwart young fellows, together with three dogs made a strong
team, but the snow was so soft, and their load so heavy, that by noon
they had not made more than ten miles. They had, however, reached the
end of their second valley, and came upon a most extraordinary scene. As
far as the eye could reach on either side stretched a vast plain of
frozen whiteness. On its further border, directly in front of them, but
some ten miles away, rose a chain of mountains bisected by a deep wide
cut like a gateway.
"It must be an arm of the sea, frozen over and covered with snow," said
Phil.
"But," objected Serge, "on this coast no such body of salt water stays
frozen so late in the season; for we are well into April now, you know."
"Then it is a great lake."
"I never heard of any lake on this side of the mountains."
"I don't reckon it's the sea; but salt water's mighty nigh," said Jalap
Coombs, sniffing the air as eagerly as a hound on the scent of game.
"Whatever it is," said Phil, "we've got to cross it, and I am going to
head straight for that opening."
So they again bent to their traces, and a few hours later had crossed
the great white plain, and were skirting the base of a mountain that
rose on their left. Its splintered crags showed the dull red of iron
rust wherever they were bare of snow, and only thin fringes of snow were
to be seen in its more sheltered gorges.
Suddenly Phil halted, his face paled, and his lips quivered with
emotion. "The sea!" he gasped. "Over there, Serge!"
Jalap Coombs caught the words, and was on his feet in an instant, all
his pain forgotten in a desire to once more catch a glimpse of his
beloved salt water.
"Yes," replied Serge, after a long look. "It certainly is a narrow bay.
How I wish we knew what one! But, Phil! what is that, down there near
the foot of the cliffs? Is it--can it be--a house?"
"Where?" cried Phil. "Yes, I see! I do believe it is! Yes, it certainly
is a house."