THE CAVALRY OUTPOST
I LINGERED merely long enough to feel assured as to her safety, creeping
closer until I heard her simple story of the Major's fall from his
horse, and then watched through the night shadows while the little squad
bore his unconscious form over the crest of the low hill toward their
quarters. Then I turned my face eastward and tramped resolutely on.
The excitement of the night, and especially the sharp, fierce struggle
with Brennan, had reawakened all my old military enthusiasm, and I felt
every nerve tingling anew as I breasted the long slope before me. Even
the depression naturally resulting from my unhappy parting with Edith
Brennan gave way for the time being to this sense of surrounding danger,
while the ardor of youth responded joyfully to the spirit of adventure.
I simply would not think of what I had lost; certainly would not permit
its memory to depress me. I was, first of all, a soldier, and nothing
short of death or capture should prevent me reaching Lee with my
message. Let what would happen, all else could wait!
The gleam of the stars fell upon the double row of buttons down the
breast of the coat I wore, and I stopped suddenly with an exclamation
of disgust. Nothing could be gained by longer masquerade, and I felt
inexpressible shame at being thus attired. Neither pass nor uniform
would suffice to get me safe through those outer picket lines, and if
I should fall in the attempt, or be again made prisoner, I vastly
preferred meeting my fate clad in the faded gray of my own regiment.
With odd sense of relief I hastily stripped off the gorgeous trappings,
flung them in the ditch beside the road, and pressed on, feeling like a
new man.
There was small need for caution here, and for more than an hour I
tramped steadily along, never meeting a person or being startled by a
suspicious sound. Then, as I rounded a low eminence I perceived before
me the dark outline of trees which marked the course of the White Briar,
while directly in my front, and half obscured by thick leaves of the
underbrush, blazed the red glare of a fire. I knew the stream well, its
steep banks of precipitate rock, its rapid, swirling current which, I
was well aware, I was not a sufficiently expert swimmer to cross. Once
upon the other bank I should be comparatively safe, but to pass that
picket post and attain the ford was certain to require all the good
fortune I could ever hope for.
But despair was never for long my comrade, and I had learned how
determination opens doors to the courageous--it is ever he who tries
that enters in. It took me ten minutes, possibly, creeping much of the
way like a wild animal over the rocks, but at the end of that time I
had attained a position well within the dense thicket, and could observe
clearly the ground before me and some of the obstacles to be overcome.
As I supposed, it was a cavalry outpost; I could distinguish the crossed
sabres on the caps of the men, although it was some time before I was
able to determine positively where their horses were picketed. There
must have been all of twenty in the party, and I could distinguish the
lieutenant in command, a middle-aged man with light-colored chin beard,
seated by himself against the wall of a small shanty of logs, a pipe in
his mouth and an open book upon his knee. His men were gathered close
about the blazing fire, for the night air was decidedly chill as it
swept down the valley; a number were sleeping, a few at cards, while
a little group, sitting with their backs toward me, yet almost within
reach of my hand, were idly smoking and discussing the floating
rumors of the camp. I managed to make out dimly the figure of a man on
horseback beyond the range of flame, and apparently upon the very bank
of the stream, when some words spoken by an old gray-bearded sergeant
interested me.
“Bob,” he said to the soldier lounging next him, “whut wus it thet staff
officer sed ter ther leftenant? I didn't just git ther straight of it.”
The man, a debonair young fellow, stroked his little black moustache
reflectively.
“Ther cove sed as how Cole's division wud be along here afore daylight,
an' thet our fellers wud likely be sent out ahead of 'em.”
“Whar be they agoin'?”
“The leftenant asked him, an' the cove sed as it wus a gineral advance
to meet ol' Hancock at Minersville.”
“Thet's good 'nough, lads,” chimed in the sergeant, slapping his knee.
“It means a dance down the valley after Early. I'm a guessin' we'll have
a bang-up ol' fight 'fore three days more.”
“Pervidin' allers thet ther Johnnies don't skedaddle fust,” commented
another, tartly. “Whut in thunder is ther matter with them hosses?” he
asked suddenly, rising and peering over into the bushes beyond the hut,
where a noise of squealing and kicking had arisen.
“Oh, the bay filly is probably over the rope agin,” returned the
sergeant, lazily. “Sit down, Sims, an' be easy; you're not on hoss guard
ternight.”
“I know thet,” growled the soldier, doubtfully, “but thet thar kid is
no good, an' I don't want my hoss all banged up jist as we 're goin' on
campaign 'tain't no sorter way ter hitch 'em anyhow, to a picket rope;
ruins more hosses than ther Rebs dew.”
This gave me inspiration, and before the speaker's sullen growl had
wholly ceased I was again upon hands and knees, silently groping my
way along the bank toward the rear of the hut. It proved to be a tiny
structure, containing but a single room--probably a mere fisherman's
shack, without windows, but possessing a door at either end. Meeting no
opposition I crept within, where I felt somewhat safer from observation,
and then peered warily forth into the darkness extending between it and
the river. The picket-rope stretched from one corner of the hut, where
it seemed to be secured around the end of a projecting log, out into
the night, evidently finding its other terminus at a big tree whose
spreading top I could dimly perceive shadowed against the sky. Along
it were tethered the horses, a few impatiently champing their bits
and pounding with their hoofs on the trampled ground, but the majority
resting quietly, their heads hanging sleepily down. The one nearest me
appeared a finely proportioned animal of a dark color, and was
equipped with both saddle and bridle. Of the soldier in charge I could
distinguish nothing--doubtless he was lounging on his back, half asleep
upon some soft patch of grass.
My plan was conceived instantly. It was a desperate one, yet it alone
seemed in the least feasible. If by chance it succeeded it would place
me in saddle once more, and to a cavalryman that means everything; while
if it failed--ah, well, it was merely a toss-up of the coin. I turned,
impatient for the trial, when it suddenly occurred to me that the
deserted hut might contain something I could use to advantage,--a
firearm, perhaps, or even a stray box of matches. I felt about me
cautiously, creeping along the hard earthen floor until I had nearly
reached the opposite entrance. The light from the fire without leaped
up, and its glow revealed a saddle, with leather holster attached,
hanging to a nail just within the doorway. Moving noiselessly I managed
to extract a revolver, but could discover no cartridges.
I was yet fumbling in the holster pocket when the lieutenant rose from
his seat without, knocked the ashes from his pipe, yawned sleepily,
standing directly between me and the fire, and then, turning sharply,
walked slowly into the open door of the hut. I sprang to my feet, or he
would certainly have stepped upon me, and before he could realize the
situation I had him by the collar, with the cold muzzle of my stolen
revolver pressed hard against his cheek.
“A single word or sound, and I fire!” I said sternly.
I have no recollection of ever seeing any man more completely astounded.
He gasped like a fish newly landed, and I doubt if he could have made
utterance even had he dared.
“Come in a little farther,” I commanded. “Now look here, Lieutenant,
you do exactly as I tell you and you will get out of this affair with a
whole skin; otherwise--well, I'm playing this game to the limit.”
“Who in hell are you?” he gasped finally, recovering some slight power
of expression.
“Never mind, friend. I am simply a man with a gun at your head, and
sufficiently desperate to use it if necessary; that's enough for you to
know and reflect over. Now answer me: How many men have you mounted this
side the ford?”
He glared at me sullenly, and I drew back the hammer with an ominous
click, eying him fiercely.
“Well,” I said shortly, “do you choose to answer, or die?”
“Two.”
“On the other bank?”
“None.”
Standing thus, covering him with the gun, and marking his slightest
movement, I thought quickly. Years of danger teach concentrated thought,
prompt decision, and I soon chose my course. To kill in battle is
soldierly, but, if possible to avoid it, there should be no killing
here.
“Lieutenant,” I said, speaking low, but in a tone which left no doubt as
to my exact meaning, “I am an escaped prisoner, and shall not hesitate
to kill rather than be recaptured. It is your life or mine to-night,
and I naturally prefer my own; but I'll give you one chance, and only
one--obey my orders and I will leave you here unhurt: disobey, and your
life is not worth the snap of a finger. Move back now until you face the
door, and don't forget my pistol is within an inch of your ear, and this
is a hair trigger. What is your sergeant's name?”
“Handley.”
“Order him to take ten men on foot one hundred yards west on the pike,
and wait further orders.”
The lieutenant twisted his head about and looked at me, his eyes
stubborn with anger.
“If you have a wife up North, and care anything about seeing her again,”
I said coolly, “you will do exactly as I say.”
“Handley,” he called out, his voice so choked with rage as to make
me fearful it might arouse suspicion, “take ten men on foot to the
cross-roads, and wait there until you hear from me.”
I could plainly note the dark shadows of the fellows as they filed out
past the fire, but I never ventured to take eye or gun off the man I
watched.
“How many remain there now?”
“Seven.”
“Any non-com, among them?”
“A corporal.”
“Have him take them all south on the cross-roads.”
The man squirmed like an eel, and I was soldier enough to sympathize
with him; yet every time he turned his head he looked death squarely in
the face, and I doubt not thought of some one he loved in that distant
North. I clicked the hammer suggestively.
“Come, friend,” I said meaningly, “time flies.”
“Jones,” he called out huskily.
“Yes, sir?”
“Take what men you have left a hundred yards south on the cross-road.”
We could hear them crunching their way through the bushes, until the
sound finally died out in the distance.
“Now, Lieutenant, you come with me--softly, and keep your distance.”
We moved back slowly, step by step, until we came to the rear door of
the shed. I reached out into the darkness, but without turning my face
away from him, and silently severed the picket-rope, retaining the
loosened end in my grasp. It was so intensely dark where we stood that I
slipped the pistol unobserved into my belt.
“Face to the rear,” I said sternly.
As he turned to obey this order, with quick movement I tripped him,
sprang backward, and shut the door.
In a single bound I was upon the back of the black, and had flung the
severed rope's end at the flank of the next horse in line. There was a
rush of feet, a sharp snapping of cords, a wild scurrying through the
bushes, as twenty frightened horses stampeded up the bank, and then,
lying face down over the saddle pommel, I sent the startled black
crashing down into the shallows of the ford. The fellow on guard tried
his best to stop us, but we were past him like the wind. He did not
fire, and doubtless in the darkness saw merely a stray horse broken from
the picket-rope. The other fellow took one swift shot, but it went wild,
and I heard the voice of the enraged lieutenant damning in the distance.
Then with a rush we went up the steep bank on the eastern shore, and I
sat upright in the saddle and gave the black his rein.