WILD SHOOTING WAS ALL THAT SAVED A SURPRISED COLORED MAN.
THOUGH Si and Shorty were certain that the trouble was over and the
rebels all gone, it was impossible to convince the boys of this. The
sudden appearance of the guerrillas had been so mysterious that they
could not rid themselves of the idea that the dark depths beyond the
creek were yet filled with vicious foemen animated by dire intents.
Si and Shorty gathered the boys together on the bank above the railroad
cut, had fires built, posted a few guards, and ordered the rest of the
boys to lie down and go to sleep. They set the example by unrolling
their own blankets at the foot of a little jack-oat, whose
thickly-growing branches, still bearing a full burden of rusty-brown
leaves, made an excellent substitute for a tent.
"Crawl in. Si, and git some sleep," said Shorty, filling his pipe. "I'll
take a smoke and set up for an hour or two. If it looks worth while
then, I'll wake you up and let you take a trick o' keepin' awake. But
if everything looks all right I'll jest crawl in beside you and start a
snorin'-match."
But neither orders nor example could calm down the nerves of boys who
had just had their first experience under fire. There was as little rest
for them as for a nest of hornets which had been rudely shaken. They lay
down at Si's order, but the next minute they were buzzing together in
groups about the fires, or out with their guns to vantage points on
the bank, looking for more enemies. Their excited imaginations made the
opposite bank of the creek alive with men, moving in masses, squads and
singly, with the sounds of footsteps, harsh commands, and of portentous
movements.
Two or three times Shorty repressed them and sharply ordered them to lie
down and go to sleep. Then he decided to let them wear themselves out,
braced his back against a sapling near the fire, pulled out from
his pocket the piece of Maria's dress, and became lost in a swarm of
thoughts that traveled north of the Ohio River.
He was recalled by Harry Joslyn and Gid Mackall appearing before him.
"Say, Corpril," inquired Harry, "what's to be done with them rebels over
there at the end o' the bridge?"
"Them that we shot?" said Shorty carelessly, feeling around for his
tobacco to refill his pipe. "Nothin'. I guess we've done enough for 'em
already."
"Don't we do nothin' more?" repeated Harry.
"No," answered Shorty, as he rubbed the whittlings from his plug to
powder in the hollow of his hand.
"Just plug at 'em as you would at a crow, and then go on your way
whistlin'?" persisted Harry.
"Certainly," answered Shorty, filling his pipe and looking around for a
sliver with which to light it. "What're you thinkin' about?"
"I don't hardly know," hesitated Harry. "It seems awful strange just to
blaze away at men and then pay no more attention to 'em. They mayn't be
knocked out at all--only 'possumin'."
"No 'possumin' about them fellers," said Shorty sententiously, as he
lighted his pipe. "Feller that gits an ounce o' lead from a Springfield
rifle anywhere in his carkiss don't play off nor purtend. He's got
something real to occupy his attention, if he's got any attention left
to occupy. You needn't bother any more about them fellers over there.
Their names's mud. They're now only part o' the real estate on the other
side o' the crick. They're suddently become no good for poll-tax; only
to be assessed by the acre."
"So you're sure they can't do more harm to the bridge?"
"No more'n the dead leaves on the banks."
"But I thought," persisted Harry, "that when a man's killed something
had to be done--coroner's inquest, corpse got ready, funeral, preacher,
neighbors gather in, and so on."
"Well, you needn't bother about any obsequies to them fellers over
there," said Shorty, sententiously, as he pulled away at his pipe. "You
done your whole share when you done the heavy work o' providin' the
corpses. Let anybody that wants to put on any frills about plantin' 'em.
If we have time tomorrow mornin' and nothin' better to do, we may go
over there and dig holes and put 'em in. But most likely we'll be needed
to rebuild that bridge they burnt. I'd rather do that, so's we kin hurry
on to Chattynoogy. Buzzards'll probably be their undertakers. They've
got a contract from the Southern Confedrisy for all that work. You lay
down and go to sleep. That's the first dooty of a soldier. You don't
know what may be wanted o' you tomorrow, and you should git yourselves
in shape for anything--fightin', marchin' or workin'."
"And sha'n't we do nothin' neither to that man that we shot when he was
tryin' to set fire to the train?" asked little Pete Skidmore, who with
Sandy Baker had come up and listened to Shorty's lecture. "He's still
layin' out there where he dropped, awful still. Me and Sandy took a
piece o' fat pine and went down and looked at him. We didn't go very
close. We didn't like to. He seemed so awful quiet and still."
"No; you let him alone," snapped Shorty impatiently. "He'll keep. Lay
down and git some sleep, I tell you. What need you bother about a
dead rebel? He ain't makin' no trouble. It's the livin' ones that need
lookin' out for."
The boys' looks showed that they were face to face with one of the
incomprehensibilities of war. But they lay down and tried to go to
sleep, and Shorty's thoughts returned to Indiana.
A shot rang out from the post on which he had stationed Jim Humphreys.
He was on his feet in an instant, with his gun in hand, and in the next
Si was beside him.
"What's up?" inquired Si, rubbing his eyes.
"Nothin', I believe," answered Shorty. "But hold the boys and I'll go
out and see."
He strode forward to Jim's side and demanded what he had shot at.
"I saw some men tryin' to cross the crick there," replied Jim, pointing
with his rammer in the direction of the opposite bank.
"There, you kin see 'em for yourself."
"I don't see no men," said Shorty, after a moment's scrutiny.
"There they are. Don't you see that white there?" said Jim, capping his
musket for another shot.
"That white," said Shorty contemptously, "is some water-birches. They
was there when you came on guard, for I noticed 'em, and they hain't
moved since. You seen 'em then, lookin' just as they do now. You're
a fool to think you kin see anything white in a rebel. 'Taint their
color."
"I don't care," half whimpered Jim. "Gid Mackall, and Harry Joslyn,
and Alf Russell, and Pete Skidmore, and even Sandy Baker, have all shot
rebels, and I hain't hit none. I don't have half-a-show."
"Be patient," Shorty consoled him. "Your three years's only begun.
You'll have lots o' chances yit. But if I ketch you shootin' at any more
white birches I'll tie you up by the thumbs."
Shorty returned to the fire. Si bade the boys he down again, and took
his own blanket. Shorty relighted his pipe, took out his never-failing
deck of cards and began running them over.
[Illustration: WILD SHOOTING OF THE BOYS SAVES THE SURPRISED COLORED
MAN. 273]
Jim Humphreys's shot had given new restlessness to the boys. They did
not at all believe in Shorty's diagnosis of the situation. There must be
more men lurking over there whence all that murderous shooting had come
only a little while ago. Jim Humphreys was more than probably right. One
after another of them quietly slipped away from the fire with his gun
and made his way down to Jim Humphreys's post, which commanded what
seemed to be a crossing of the creek. They stood there and scanned the
opposite bank of darkness with tense expectancy. They had their ears
tuned up to respond to even the rustle of the brown, dry leaves on the
trees and the murmur of the creek over the stones. They even saw the
white birches move around from place to place and approach the water,
but Shorty's dire threat prevented their firing until they got something
more substantial.
"There's rebels over there, sure as you're born,"' murmured Jim to them,
without turning his head to relax his fixed gaze nor taking his finger
from the trigger of his cocked gun. "Wish they'd fire a gun first to
convince that old terror of a Corpril, who thinks he kin tell where
rebels is just by the smell. I'd--"
"Sh! Jim, I hear a hoss's hoofs," said Harry Joslyn.
"Sh! so do I," echoed Gid Mackall.
They all listened with painful eagerness.
"Hoss's hoofs and breakin' limbs, sure's you're a foot high," whispered
Harry. "And they're comin' down the hill this way."
"That's right. They're a'most to the crick now," assented Gid. "I'm
going to shoot."
"No; I've got the right to a first shot," said Jim. "You fellers hold
off."
Bang went Jim's gun, followed almost instantly by the others.
"Hi, dere, boys; I's done found you at las'! Whoopee!" called out a
cheery voice from across the creek, and a man rode boldly down to the
water's edge, where the boys were nervously reloading.
"Now, Jim Humphreys, what in blazes are you bangin' away at now?"
angrily demanded Si, striding up. "At a cotton-tailed rabbit or a
sycamore stump?"
"The woods is full o' rebel cavalry comin' acrost the crick," gasped
Jim, as he rammed down his cartridge. "There, you kin see 'em for
yourself."
"What foh you come dis-a-way, boys?" continued the voice of the man
on horseback. "I done los' you! I fought we done agreed to go ober by
Simpson's hill, an' I jine you dar. I went dat-a-way, an' den I hear you
shootin' ober dis-a-way, an' seed yoh fiah, and I cut acrost to git to
you. Whah'd you git so many guns, an' sich big ones? Sound like sojer
guns. I done beared dem way ober dah, an' I--"
"Hold on, boys," sternly shouted Shorty, springing in front of them and
throwing up their guns. "Don't one o' you dare shoot! Hold up, I say!
Hello, you there! Who are you?"
"Who's me?" said the negro, astonished by the strange voice. "I's Majah
Wilkinson's Sam, Massa Patrol. I's got a pass all right. De old Majah
done tole me I could go out coon-huntin' wid Kunnel Oberly's boys
tonight, but I done missed dem."
"Come ashore here, boy," commanded Shorty, "and be thankful that you're
alive. You've had a mighty narrow squeak of it. Next time you go out
coon huntin' be sure there's no Yankee and rebel soldiers huntin' one
another in the neighborhood. Coons have a tough time then."
"Yankee sojers!" gasped the negro, as he was led back to the fire, and
saw the blue uniforms. "Lawdy, massy, don't kill me. I pray, sah, don't.
I hain't done nuffin. Sho' I hain't. Massa said you'd burn me alibe if
you eber cotched me, but you won't, will you?"
"We ain't goin' to hurt you," said Shorty. "Sit down there by the fire
and git the goose-flesh offen you." Then turning to the boys he remarked
sarcastically:
"Fine lot o' marksmen you are, for a fact. Halfa dozen o' you bangin'
away at a hundred yards, and not comin' close enough to a nigger to let
him know you was shootin' at him. Now will you lay down and go to sleep?
Here, Si, you take charge o' this gang and let me go to sleep. I've had
enough o' them for one night."
During the night a train came up, carrying a regiment of entirely
new troops. In the morning these scattered over the ground, scanning
everything with the greatest interest and drinking in every detail of
the thrilling events of the previous night.
"It's just killin'," said Si to Shorty, "to watch the veteran airs our
boys are puttin' on over those new fellers. You'd think they'd fit in
every battle since Bunker Hill, and learned Gen. Grant all he knows
about tactics. Talk about the way the old fellers used to fill us up,
why, these boys lay away over everything we ever knowed. I overheard
Harry Joslyn laying it into about 40 of them. 'No man knows just what
his feelin's will be under fire until he has the actual experience,'
says he. 'Now, the first time I heard a rebel bullet whistle,' and his
face took on a look as if he was trying to recollect something years
ago."
"Yes," laughed Shorty, "and you should hear little Pete Skidmore and
Sandy Baker lecturing them greenies as to the need o' lookin' carefully
to their rear and beware o' rebels sneakin' 'round and attackin'
their trains. Hold on. Look through this brush. There's Monty Scruggs
explainin' the plan o' battle to a crowd of 'em. He don't know we're
anywhere around. Listen and you'll hear something."
"The enemy had reached the ground in advance of us," Monty was
elucidating, in language with which his school histories and the daily
papers had familiarized him, "and had strongly posted himself along
those hights, occupying a position of great natural strength, including
their own natural cussedness. Their numbers was greatly superior to
ours, and they had prepared a cunning trap for us, which we only escaped
by the vigilance of Corpril Elliott and the generalship of Serg't
Klegg. I tell you, those men are a dandy team when it comes to running
a battle. They know their little biz, and don't you forget it for a
minute. The enemy opened a galling fire, when Corpril Elliott gallantly
advanced to that point there and responded, while Serg't Klegg rapidly
arrayed his men along there, and the battle became terrific. It was like
the poet says:
"'Then shook the hills with thunder riven,
Then rushed the steeds to battle driven,
And louder than the bolts of heaven,
Far flashed the red artillery.'"
"O, come off, Monty," called the more prosaic Gid Mackall; "you know we
didn't have no artillery. If we'd had, we'd a blowed 'em clean offen the
hill."
The whistle summoned them to get aboard and move on.