A LITTLE INITIATORY SKIRMISH WITH THE GUERRILLAS.
THE train passed Shelbyville in the course of the afternoon and halted
on a switch. Tired of reading, Si was standing at the door of the car,
looking out over the country and trying to identify places they had
passed or camped at during the campaign of the previous Summer. Suddenly
his far-seeing eyes became fixed on the intervals in the trees on the
farthest hill-top. Without turning his head he called Shorty in a tone
which made that worthy lose all interest in his inevitable pack of cards
and spring to his side. Without speaking, Si pointed to the sky-line of
the eminence, against which moving figures sketched themselves.
"Guerrillas," said Shorty.
Si nodded affirmatively.
"Skeetin' acrost the country to jump this train or some other,"
continued Shorty.
"This one, most likely," answered Si.
"Yes," accorded Shorty, with an estimating glance at the direction of
the range of hills, "and'll aim at strikin' us at some bridge or deep
cut about 10 miles from here."
"Where we'll probably git sometime after dark," assented Si.
"Yes. Let's talk to the conductor and engineer."
The train had started in the meanwhile, but presently the conductor came
back into the caboose. He had been a soldier, but so severely wounded as
to necessitate his discharge as incapable of further field service.
"I hardly think there's any danger," said Conductor Madden. "Things
've been very quiet this side of the Tennessee River ever since last
October, when Crook, Wilder and Minty belted the life out of old Joe
Wheeler down there at Farmington and Rodgersville. Our cavalry gave
theirs an awful mauling, and them that were lucky enough to escape
acrost the river have seemed purty well satisfied to stay on that side.
A hell's mint of 'em were drowned trying to get acrost the river.
Our cavalry's been patrolling the country ever since, but hasn't seen
anything of consequence. Still, it is possible that some gang has
managed to sneak acrost a blind-ford somewhere, and in hopes to catch a
train. Guerrillas are always where you find 'em."
"Well, I'll bet a hatful o' red apples," said Si, "that them was
guerrillas that we saw, and they're makin' for this train. The rebels in
Nashville somehow got information to 'em about it."
"Them's guerrillas," affirmed Shorty, "sure's the right bower takes the
left. None o' our cavalry's stringin' around over the hill-tops. Then,
I made out some white horses, which our cavalry don't have. It's just as
Si says, them Nashville spies 's put the rebel cavalry onto us."
"Them cowardly, sneaking, death-deserving rebels in Nashville," broke
out Conductor Madden, with a torrent of oaths. "Every man in Nashville
that wears citizen's clothes ought to be hung on sight, and half
the women. They don't do nothing but lay around and take the oath of
allegiance, watch every move we make like a cat does a mouse, and send
information through the lines. You can't draw a ration of hardtack but
they know it, and they're looking down your throat while you're eating
it. They haint got the gravel in their craws to go out and fight
themselves, and yet they've cost us a hundred times as many lives as
if they had. Why does the General allow them to stay there? He ought to
order rocks tied to the necks of every blasted one of 'em and fling 'em
into the Cumberland River and then pour turpentine on the infernal
old town and touch a match to it. That's what I'd do if I had my way.
There's more, brimstone trouble to the acre in Nashville than in any
town on the footstool, not barring even Richmond."
"Nashville certainly is tough," sighed Shorty. "'Specially in gamblers.
Worst tin-horn crowd that ever fumbled a deck or skinned a greeny out
o' the last cent o' his bounty. Say, Si, do you remember that tin-horny
that I cleaned out o' his whole pile down there at Murfreesboro, with
them cards that I'd clipped with a pair o' scissors, so's I'd know 'em
by the feel, and he never ketched on till his last shinplaster was gone,
and then I throwed the pack in the fire? Well, I seen him down there at
the depot smellin' around for suckers. I told him to let our boys alone
or I'd snap his neck off short. Great Jehosephat, but I wanted a chance
to git up town and give some o' them cold-deckers a whirl."
"Well," said Conductor Madden, after some deliberation, "I believe what
you boys say. You're not the kind to get rattled and make rebels out
of cedar-bushes. All the same, there's nothing to do but go ahead. My
orders were to take this train through to Chattanooga as quick as I
could. I can't stop on a suspicion."
"No, indeed," assented Si and Shorty.
"There's no place to telegraph from till we get to Bridgeport, on the
Tennessee, and if we could telegraph they wouldn't pay any attention to
mere reports of having seen rebels at a distance. They want something
more substantial than that."
"Of course they do, and very properly," said Si. "Is your engineer all
right?"
"Game as they make 'em, and loyal as Abraham Lincoln himself," responded
the conductor.
"Well, I believe our boys 's all right. They're green, and they're
friskier than colts in a clover field, but they're all good stuff, and
I believe we kin stand off any ordinary gang o' guerrillas. I'll chance
it, anyhow. This's a mighty valuable train to risk, but it ought to go
through, for we don't know how badly they may need it. You tell your
engineer to go ahead carefully and give two long whistles if he sees
anything dangerous."
"I'll go and git onto the engine with him," said Shorty.
"Wait a little," said Si. "We'll get the boys together, issue 'em
catridges and give 'em a little preparation for a light, if we're to
have one."
The sun had gone down and the night was at hand. The train had stopped
to take on a supply of wood from a pile by the roadside. Some of the
boys were helping pitch the heavy sticks onto the engine, the rest ware
skylarking along the tops of the cars in the irrepressible exuberance of
animal spirits of boys who had had plenty to eat and were without a care
in the world. Harry Joslyn had been giving exhibitions of standing on
his head on the runningboard. Gid Mackall had converted a piece of rope
he had picked up into a lasso, and was trying to imitate the feats he
had seen performed at the last circus. Monty Scruggs, the incipient
lawyer, who was proud of his elocutionary talents, had vociferated at
the woods they were passing, "Rienzi's Address to the Romans," "The
Last Sigh of the Moor," "Absalom," "The Battle of Waterloo," and similar
staples of Friday afternoon recitations. Alf Russell, the embryonic
doctor, who sang a fine tenor, was rendering "Lily Dale" with
much impressment, and little Pete Skidmore was "skipping" the flat
hill-stones over an adjacent pond.
"'Tention!" shouted Si.
There was something so different in the tone from that in which Si
had before spoken, that it arrested the attention of every one of them
instantly.
"Git your guns and fall in two ranks on that sod, there, at once,"
commanded Si, in quick, curt accents.
An impalpable something in the tones and words stilled everybody into
seriousness. This was deepened by the look they saw on Si's face.
They snatched up their guns and hurried into line on the spot indicated,
looking into each other's countenances and into that of Si's for an
explanation of what was up.
"Mackall and Joslyn," called Shorty from the car, "come here and take
this box of catridges."
"Now," said Si, as they did this, "Joslyn, you and Mackall issue those
to the boys. One of you walk down in front and the other behind and give
each man two packages of catridges. You boys open the packages and put
the catridges in your catridgeboxes, bullet-end up, and the caps in your
capboxes."
The boys followed his directions with nervous eagerness, inspired by his
words and manner, and then fixed their anxious gaze upon him for further
impartment.
Si walked down in front, in the rear of the line, superintending the
operation.
"Now, boys," said Si, taking his place in front and facing them, "you've
bin talkin' about guerrillas ever since we crossed the Ohio, but now
there's a prospect o' meetin' some. I hadn't expected to see any till
after we'd reached Chattanoogy, but guerrillas's never where you expect
'em."
"Knowin' you was so anxious to see 'em, they've come up the road to meet
you," interjected Shorty.
"It looks," continued Si, "as if they'd got news of the train and
slipped out here to take it away from us. They may attack it at any
minute after we start agin. Now, we mustn't let 'em git it. It's too
valuable to the Government to lose and too valuable to them to git. We
mustn't let 'em have it, I tell you. Now, I want you to load your guns
carefully, handle 'em very carefully after they are loaded, git back in
the cars, stop skylarkin', keep very quiet, listen for orders, and when
you git 'em, obey 'em to the letter--no more, no less."
[Illustration: WATCHING THE BRIDGE BURNERS AT WORK 259]
"Can't we go back on top o' the cars, where we kin watch for 'em, and
git the first pop at 'em?" said Harry Joslyn, in a pleading tone.
"No; that's too dangerous, and you'll lose time in gittin' together,"
answered Si. "You must all come into the cars with me."
"Sergeant," said Shorty, "let me have a couple to go on the engine with
me."
"Le' me go. Le' me go," they all seemed to shout at once, holding up
their hands in eager school-boy fashion.
"I can't take but two o' you," said Shorty; "more'd be in the way."
They all pressed forward. "Count out. That's the only fair way," shouted
the boys in the center.
"That's so," said Harry Joslyn. "Stand still till I count. Imry,
Ory, Ickery, Ann, Quevy, Quavy, Irish Navy, Filleson, Folleson,
Nicholas--Buck! That's me. I'm it!"
He rapidly repeated the magic formula, and pronounced Gid Mackall "it."
"He didn't count fair! He didn't count fair! He never counts fair,"
protested the others; but Si hustled them into the cars and the train
started.
It had grown quite dark. The boys sat silent and anxiously expectant
on their seats, clutching their loaded guns, held stiffly upright, and
watching Si's face as well as they could by the dim light of the single
oil lamp. Si leaned against the side of the door and watched intently.
Only little Pete Skidmore was unrepressed by the gravity of the
situation. Rather, it seemed to spur his feet, his hands and his mouth
to nimbler activity. He was everywhere--at one moment by Si's side in
the door of the car, at the next climbing up to peer out of the window;
and then clambering to the top of the car, seeing legions of guerrillas
in the bushes, until sternly ordered back by Si. Then he would drop the
butt of his musket on the floor with a crash which would start every one
of the taut nerves to throbbing. And the questions that he asked:
"Say, Sergeant, will the guerrillas holler before they shoot, or shoot
before they holler?"
"Sometimes one and sometimes the other," responded Si, absently. "Keep
quiet, Pete."
Quiet for a minute, and then:
"Shall we holler before we shoot or shoot before we holler?"
"Neither. Keep perfectly quiet, and 'tend strictly to your little
business."
"I think we ought to holler some. Makes it livelier. What sort o' guns
has the guerrillas?"
"Every kind--shot-guns, pistols, rifles, flint-locks, cap-locks--every
kind. Now, you mustn't ask me any more questions. Don't bother me."
"Yes, sir; I won't."
Quiet for at least five seconds. Then:
"Have the guerrillas guns that'll shoot through the sides of the cars?"
"Probably."
"Then I'd ruther be on top, where I kin see something. Kin they shoot
through the sides o' the tender, and let all the water out and stop the
engine?"
"Guess not."
"Haven't they any real big guns that will?"
"Mebbe."
"Kin we plug up the holes, anyway, then, and start agin?"
"Probably."
"Hain't the engineer got an iron shield that he kin git behind, so they
can't shoot him?"
"Can't he turn the steam onto 'em, and scald 'em if they try to git at
him?"
"What'll happen if they shoot the head-light out?"
"Why wouldn't it be a good idee to put a lot o' us on the cow-ketcher,
with fixed bayonets, and then let the engineer crack on a full head o'
steam and run us right into 'em?"
"Great Scott, Pete, you must stop askin' questions," said Si
desperately. "Don't you see Pm busy?"
Pete was silent for another minute. Then he could hold in no longer:
"Sergeant, jest one question more, and then I'll keep quiet."
"Well, what is it?"
"If the rebels shoot the bell, won't it make a noise that they kin hear
clear back at Nashville?"
The engine suddenly stopped, and gave two long whistles. Above the
screech they heard shots from Shorty and the two boys with him.
"Here they are, boys," said Si, springing out and running up the bank.
"All out, boys. Come up here and form."
As he reached the top of the bank a yell and a volley came from the
other side of the creek. Shorty joined him at once, bringing the two
boys on the engine with him.
"We've bin runnin' through this deep cut," he explained, "and jest
come out onto the approach to the bridge, when we see a little fire away
ahead, and the head-light showed some men runnin' down on to the bank
on the other side o' the crick. We see in a moment what was up. They've
jest got to the road and started a fire on the bridge that's about a
mile ahead. Their game was to burn that bridge, and when this train
stopped, burn this one behind us, ketch us, whip us, and take the train.
We shot at the men we see on the bank, but probably didn't do 'em no
harm. They're all pilin' down now to the other bank to whip us out and
git the train. You'd better deploy the boys along the top o' the bank
here and open on 'em. We can't save that bridge, but we kin this and the
train, by keepin' 'em on the other side o' the crick. I'll take charge
o' the p'int here with two or three boys, and drive off any o' them that
tries to set fire to the bridge, and you kin look out for the rest o'
the line. It's goin' to be longtaw work, for you see the crick's purty
wide, but our guns 'll carry further'n theirs, and if we keep the boys
well in hand I think we kin stand 'em off without much trouble."
"Sure," said Si confidently. "You watch the other side o' the bridge and
I'll look out for the rest."
The eager boys had already begun firing, entering into the spirit of the
thing with the zest of a Fame of town-ball. Shorty took Gid Mackall and
Harry Joslyn down to the cover of some large stones, behind which they
could lie and command the approach to the other end of the bridge with
their rifles. Si took the other boys and placed them behind rocks and
stumps along the crest and instructed them to fire with as good aim as
possible at the flashes from the other side. In a minute or two he had
a fine skirmish-line in operation, with the boys firing as deliberately
and accurately as veterans. The engineer had backed the train under the
cover of the cut, and presently he and the conductor came up with guns
and joined the firing-line.
"I say, Shorty," said Si, coming down to where that worthy was
stationed, "what d' you think o' the boys now? They take to this like a
duck to water. They think it's more fun than squirrel-huntin'. Listen."
They heard Monty Scruggs's baritone call:
"Say, Alf, did you see me salt that feller that's bin yellin' and
cussin' at me over there? He's cussin' now for something else. I think I
got him right where he lived."
"I wasn't paying any attention to you," Alf's fine tenor replied, as
his rammer rang in his barrel. "I've got business o' my own to 'tend to.
There's a feller over there that's firing buckshot at me that I've got
to settle, and here goes."
"The 200th Injianny Volunteers couldn't put up a purtier skirmish than
this," murmured Si, in accents of pride, as he raised his gun and fired
at a series of flashes on the farther bank.
"I say, tell that engineer to uncouple his engine and bring it back up
here where the head-light'll cover the other side," said Shorty. "It'll
make the other side as light as day and we kin see every move, while
we'll be in the dark."
"Good idee," said Si, hastening to find the engineer.
He was none too soon. As the engine rolled up, flooding its advance with
light, it brought a storm of bullets from the other side, but revealed
three men creeping toward the other end of the bridge. Two were carrying
pine knots, and the third, walking behind, had a stick of blazing pine,
which he was trying to shield from observation with his hat.
"Take the front man, Harry. Take the second one, Gid. I'll take the man
with the light," commanded Shorty.
The three rifles cracked in quick succession and the three men dropped.
"Bully, boys," ejaculated Shorty, as he reloaded. "You'll do. The 200th
Injianny's proud o' you."
"I hit my man in the leg," said Harry, flushing with delight, as he bit
off another cartridge. "Jerusalem, I wish they'd send another one down."
"I drawed on my man's bundle o' wood," said Gid, "and then dropped a
little, so's to git him where he was biggest and make sure o' him."
"Well, my man's beauty's spiled forever," said Shorty. "The light flared
up on his face and I let him have it there."
"But Linden saw another light.
When beat the drums at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to hight
The darkness of her scenery,"
recited Monty Scruggs. "Gracious, I'm hit!"
"Where?" asked Si, running up to him.
"Through my leg," answered Monty.
"Kin you walk?"
"I guess so."
"Well, make your way back to the cars and git in and lay down."
"Not much," answered Monty determinedly. "It don't hurt much, and
I'm going to stay and see this thing out. I can tie it up with my
handkerchief."
"Scatter again, boys," Si warned several, who had rushed up; "don't make
too big a mark for the fellers on the other side. Go back and 'tend to
your bizniss. I'll help him tie up his wound. I'm afeared, though, that
some o' the boys are runnin' out o' catridges, they have bin shootin' so
rapidly. I want a couple o' you to run back to the cars and git another
box."
"Let me and Sandy go," pleaded little Pete Skidmore. "The big boys went
before."
"All right; skip out. Break the lid o' the box off before you take it
out o' the car. We haven't anything here to do it with. Leave your guns
here."
"No, we'll take 'em along," pleaded Pete, with a boyish love for his
rifle. "We mightn't be able to find 'em agin."
The firing from the opposite bank became fitful, died down, and then
ceased altogether. Then a couple of shots rang out from far in the
rear in the direction of the train. This seemed to rouse the rebels
to another volley, and then all became quiet. The shots in the rear
disturbed Si, who started back to see what they meant, but met Pete
Skidmore and Sandy Baker coming panting up, carrying a box of cartridges
between them.
"We got back as quick as we could," Pete explained as he got his breath.
"Just as we was coming to the train we see a rebel who was carrying a
fat-pine torch, and making for the train to set it on fire. We shot him.
Was that all right?"
"Perfectly," said Si. "Was there any more with him?"
"No. We looked around for others, but couldn't find none. That's what
kept up so long."
"The Johnnies have given it up and gone," said Shorty, coming up. "I
went over to a place where I could see 'em skippin' out by the light o'
the burnin' o' the other bridge. We might as well put out guards here
and go into camp till mornin'."
"All right," assented Si. "We've saved the train and bridge, and that's
all we kin do."