How sadly were dashed the hopes of the husband and the lover who had
expected not a war, but a military demonstration to last but a few
days. The cheerful party of decorated pleasure seekers soon became a
sober army, stripped of feathers, bent upon the shedding of blood.
I may be pardoned this egotism, but it seemed that the South, more
Anglo-Saxon, more American, fought with brighter fire and bravery
than the miscellaneous nationalities gathered in the North. I know
one thing, that the Southern soldier held the foreigner in contempt.
He had, however, to face too much of his own blood. But I am going
to follow the fortunes of no campaign; I am going to be as brief as
possible. My Master was promoted for gallantry, and soon was placed at
the head of a regiment of cavalry. I rode by his side, and I knew that
beyond that blue line, away over yonder, my freedom and the freedom of
my down-trodden race was lying, but I was true to him, and was proud of
him.
Letters from home were very irregular. Old Master did not write. Old
Miss wrote; but never came there a word for me. I wrote to Titine, but
no answer reached me. Sometimes, at night, alone in the tent, master
would read aloud Miss Potter's letter, and though the words were
affectionate, they appeared to me to be mechanical and meaningless. But
to him each sentence was a string of pearls.
For a time the Confederate arms were so successful that it looked as
if the war might soon close, with victory for the South. But a change
came. The old Puritan stock, the old blood that humbled a king and
cut off his head, gathered in solemn and God-serving force. We had
chaplains and held services; we prayed to God to bless our cause, but
the Puritan mixed prayer with his powder and brightened his sword with
a scriptural text.
We went with Bragg's invasion into Kentucky. How joyous it was again
to turn our faces toward home. We did not think of the blood that was
to flow at Perryville. One day we halted within fifteen miles of Old
Master's house. And Young Master received permission to visit his home.
We set out at night. First we were to go to Potter's. We were cautioned
to be back by day-light, to overtake the army at a place called Elwood.
The night was moon-flooded. The turn-pike looked an endless strip of
light. How delightful to see the first familiar object, an old mill
where Bob and I had caught many a sun-fish. Now we were but a short
distance from Potter's. We passed the toll-gate. The bar was up and no
one came out. We met an old negro and he told us that the people had
nearly all flocked to town, that they had been ordered in as a battle
was expected.
"Here we are!" Bob cried, and he jumped from his horse in front of
Potter's house. A dog barked, but there was no light. He went to the
front door and the sharp fall of the brass knocker resounded afar off,
throughout the stillness of the night. He called me and I went to him.
"I believe they are gone, too," he said, his voice choking with
disappointment. "Let us go around and see if we can find anyone."
We went to the cabins in the rear of the house. All was dark. We
mounted and rode on toward home, silent, desolate with the realization
of war's uncompromising demands. I heard the creek and my heart leaped.
We turned into the lane. The gate was down and heavy artillery had cut
the road into deep ruts, here where Dr. Bates had lain under the eye of
the law.
"They are all gone, too," said master, "negroes and all."
"No," I cried, "there's a light in your room."
We put spurs and dashed up to the gate. The front door stood ajar.
There was no light in the hall. "Easy," said Bob, and we tip-toed up
the stairs. A light streamed under the door of our "office." We did not
knock, but Bob shoved the door open. Then he sprang back with pistol in
hand.
"Why, helloa!" a voice cried. It was Mr. Clem. "Come in, boys."
He stood there in the uniform of a Federal colonel, his sword on the
table. We shook hands and the greeting was one of unaffected warmth.
We sat down, though not yet over our surprise. "How on earth did you
get here?" Colonel Clem asked. "The country is full of our troops. You
took a big risk. Sorry the folks are not here. Had hard work in driving
Brother Guilford in. Swore he'd stay here and let them knock the house
about his ears. But, how well you're looking, my boy. Make a nice
prisoner for me to take in, eh?"
Bob touched the butt of his revolver and smiled. Colonel Clem nodded
goodhumoredly. "Bobbie, so far as we are now concerned," said he,
"there is no war. But haven't we had a time? Told you it wouldn't be a
picnic. Come, don't be sad."
"When did 'she' go to town?"
"To-day," the colonel answered. "I saw her about noon-time. She is more
beautiful than ever; said she had a charming letter from you not long
ago. I have been over in Missouri a good deal of the time lately,"
he added with a strange smile. "Had a piece of the past thrust into
my face, while I was there. A fellow had been court-martialed and
sentenced to be hanged. I met the guards as they were taking him out.
My old-time negro-trader, the man that robbed me years ago. It was
hardly the same sort of court that he had escaped from in Illinois.
What did I do? I ordered them to halt--I ran to the commander and
begged him to let me have that fellow. I wanted to kill him with my
sword. But they wouldn't let me, so I had to content myself with seeing
him hanged. What sort of stock are you boys riding? Now, I've got a
good mare here that I think would just suit you, Bob. But I don't want
any Confederate money. Come down and let's see what can be done."
Bob shook his head and laughed. "I am to get back to my command by
daylight, Uncle Clem," said he, "and I know that if I should trade
horses with you, I'd have to walk."
"What nonsense. I want to see you on a good horse. Come on."
"No, I thank you."
"Let me show you the mare."
"Don't want to see her."
"She's a beauty--got her from General Buell."
"Take her back to him. I don't want her."
"All right," he said, with a loud laugh, "Got your eye teeth, haven't
you. Well--what was that? A bugle."
"Come," said Bob, starting toward the door. But he halted. "Uncle Clem,
give my love to them all. Tell the old man that I love him."