The story of Frank's adventure and courage was the talk of all the
Oakland plantation. His mother and Cousin Belle both kissed him, and
called him their little hero. Willy also received a full share of
praise for his courage.
About noon there was great commotion among the troops. They were far
more numerous than they had been in the morning, and instead of riding
about the woods in small bodies, hunting for the concealed soldiers,
they were collecting together and preparing to move.
It was learned that a considerable body of cavalry was passing down
the road by Trinity Church, and that the depot had been burnt again
the night before. Somehow, a rumor got about that the Confederates
were following up the raiders.
In an hour most of the soldiers went away, but a number still stayed
on. Their horses were picketed about the yard feeding; and they
themselves lounged around, making themselves at home in the house, and
pulling to pieces the things that were left. They were not, however,
as wanton in their destruction as the first set, who had passed by the
year before.
Among those who yet remained were the little corporal, and the big
young soldier who had been so kind to Frank. They were in the
rear-guard. At length the last man rode off.
The boys had gone in and out among them, without being molested. Now
and then some rough fellow would swear at them, but for the most part
their intercourse with the boys was friendly. When, therefore, they
rode off, the boys were allowed by their mother to go and see the main
body.
Peter and Cole were with them. They took the main road and followed
along, picking up straps, and cartridges, and all those miscellaneous
things dropped by a large body of troops as they pass along.
Cartridges were very valuable, as they furnished the only powder and
shot the boys could get for hunting, and their supply was out. These
were found in unusual numbers. The boys filled their pockets, and
finally filled their sleeves, tying them tightly at the wrist with
strings, so that the contents would not spill out. One of the boys
found even an old pistol, which was considered a great treasure. He
bore it proudly in his belt, and was envied by all the others.
It was quite late in the afternoon when they thought of turning toward
home, their pockets and sleeves bagging down with the heavy
musket-cartridges. They left the Federal rear-guard feeding their
horses at a great white pile of corn which had been thrown out of the
corn-house of a neighbor, and was scattered all over the ground.
They crossed a field, descended a hill, and took the main road at its
foot, just as a body of cavalry came in sight. A small squad, riding
some little distance in advance of the main body, had already passed
by. These were Confederates. The first man they saw, at the head of
the column by the colonel, was the General, and a little behind him
was none other than Hugh on a gray roan; while not far down the column
rode their friend Tim Mills, looking rusty and sleepy as usual.
"Goodness! Why, here are the General and Hugh! How in the world did
you get away?" exclaimed the boys.
They learned that it was a column of cavalry following the line of the
raid, and that the General and Hugh had met them and volunteered. The
soldiers greeted the boys cordially.
"The Yankees are right up there," said the youngsters.
"Where? How many? What are they doing?" asked the General.
"A whole pack of 'em--right up there at the stables, and all about,
feeding their horses and sitting all around, and ever so many more
have gone along down the road."
"Fling the fence down there!" The boys pitched down the rails in two
or three places. An order was passed back, and in an instant a stir
of preparation was noticed all down the line of horsemen.
A courier galloped up the road to recall the advance-guard. The head
of the column passed through the gap, and, without waiting for the
others, dashed up the hill at a gallop--the General and the colonel a
score of yards ahead of any of the others.
"Let's go and see the fight!" cried the boys; and the whole set
started back up the hill as fast as their legs could carry them.
"S'pose they shoot! Won't they shoot us?" asked one of the negro boys,
in some apprehension. This, though before unthought of, was a
possibility, and for a moment brought them down to a slower pace.
"We can lie flat and peep over the top of the hill." This was Frank's
happy thought, and the party started ahead again. "Let's go around
that way." They made a little detour.
Just before they reached the crest they heard a shot, "bang!"
immediately followed by another, "bang!" and in a second more a
regular volley began, and was kept up.
They reached the crest of the hill in time to see the Confederates
gallop up the slope toward the stables, firing their pistols at the
blue-coats, who were forming in the edge of a little wood, over beyond
a fence, from the other side of which the smoke of their carbines was
rolling. They had evidently started on just as the boys left, and
before the Confederates came in sight.
The boys saw their friends dash at this fence, and could distinguish
the General and Hugh, who were still in the lead. Their horses took
the fence, going over like birds, and others followed,--Tim Mills
among them,--while yet more went through a gate a few yards to one
side.
"Look at Hugh! Look at Hugh!"
"Look! That horse has fallen down!" cried one of the boys, as a horse
went down just at the entrance of the wood, rolling over his rider.
"He's shot!" exclaimed Frank, for neither horse nor rider attempted to
rise.
"See; they are running!"
The little squad of blue-coats were retiring into the woods, with the
grays closely pressing them.
"Let's cut across and see 'em run 'em over the bridge."
"Come on!"
All the little group of spectators, white and black, started as hard
as they could go for a path they knew, which led by a short cut
through the little piece of woods. Beyond lay a field divided by a
stream, a short distance on the other side of which was a large body
of woods.
The popping was still going on furiously in the woods, and bullets
were "zoo-ing" over the fields. But the boys could not see anything,
and they did not think about the flying balls.
They were all excitement at the idea of "our men" whipping the enemy,
and they ran with all their might to be in time to see them "chase 'em
across the field."
The road on which the skirmish took place, and down which the Federal
rear-guard had retreated, made a sharp curve beyond the woods, around
the bend of a little stream crossed by a small bridge; and the boys,
in taking the short cut, had placed the road between themselves and
home; but they did not care about that, for their men were driving the
others. They "just wanted to see it."
They reached the edge of the field in time to see that the Yankees
were on the other side of the stream. They knew them to be where puffs
of smoke came out of the opposite wood. And the Confederates had
stopped beyond the bridge, and were halted, in some confusion, in the
field.
The firing was very sharp, and bullets were singing in every
direction. Then the Confederates got together, and went as hard as
they could right at them up to the wood, all along the edge of which
the smoke was pouring in continuous puffs and with a rattle of shots.
They saw several horses fall as the Confederates galloped on, but the
smoke hid most of it. Next they saw a long line of fire appear in the
smoke on both sides of the road, where it entered the wood; then the
Confederates stopped, and became all mixed up; a number of horses
galloped away without their riders, another line of white and red
flame came out of the woods, the Confederates began to come back,
leaving many horses on the ground, and a body of cavalry in blue coats
poured out of the wood in pursuit.
"Look! look! They are running--they are beating our men!" exclaimed
the boys. "They have driven 'em back across the bridge!"
"How many of them there are!"
"What shall we do? Suppose they see us!"
"Come on, Mah'srs Frank 'n' Willy, let's go home," said the colored
boys. "They'll shoot us."
The fight was now in the woods which lay between the boys and their
home. But just then the gray-coats got together, again turned at the
edge of the wood, and dashed back on their pursuers, and--the smoke
and bushes on the stream hid everything. In a second more both emerged
on the other side of the smoke and went into the woods on the further
edge of the field, all in confusion, and leaving on the ground more
horses and men than before.
"What's them things 'zip-zippin' 'round my ears?" asked one of the
negro boys.
"Bullets," said Frank, proud of his knowledge.
"Will they hurt me if they hit me?"
[Illustration: "LOOK! LOOK! THEY ARE RUNNING! THEY ARE BEATING OUR
MEN!" EXCLAIMED THE BOYS.]
"Of course they will. They'll kill you."
"I'm gwine home," said the boy, and off he started at a trot.
"Hold on!--We're goin', too; but let's go down this way; this is the
best way."
They went along the edge of the field, toward the point in the road
where the skirmish had been and where the Confederates had rallied.
They stopped to listen to the popping in the woods on the other side,
and were just saying how glad they were that "our men had whipped
them," when a soldier came along.
"What in the name of goodness are you boys doing here?" he asked.
"We're just looking on an' lis'ning," answered the boys meekly.
"Well, you'd better be getting home as fast as you can. They are too
strong for us, and they'll be driving us back directly, and some of
you may get killed or run over."
This was dreadful! Such an idea had never occurred to the boys. A
panic took possession of them.
"Come on! Let's go home!" This was the universal idea, and in a second
the whole party were cutting straight for home, utterly stampeded.
They could readily have found shelter and security back over the hill,
from the flying balls; but they preferred to get home, and they made
straight for it. The popping of the guns, which still kept up in the
woods across the little river, now meant to them that the victorious
Yankees were driving back their friends. They believed that the
bullets which now and then yet whistled over the woods with a long,
singing "zoo-ee," were aimed at them. For their lives, then, they ran,
expecting to be killed every minute.
The load of cartridges in their pockets, which they had carried for
hours, weighed them down. As they ran they threw these out. Then
followed those in their sleeves. Frank and the other boys easily got
rid of theirs, but Willy had tied the strings around his wrists in
such hard knots that he could not possibly untie them. He was falling
behind.
Frank heard him call. Without slacking his speed he looked back over
his shoulder. Willy's face was red, and his mouth was twitching. He
was sobbing a little, and was tearing at the strings with his teeth as
he ran. Then the strings came loose one after the other, the
cartridges were shaken out over the ground, and Willy's face at once
cleared up as he ran forward lightened of his load.
They had passed almost through the narrow skirt of woods where the
first attack was made, when they heard some one not far from the side
of the road call, "Water!"
The boys stopped. "What's that?" they asked each other in a startled
undertone. A groan came from the same direction, and a voice said,
"Oh, for some water!"
A short, whispered consultation was held.
"He's right up on that bank. There's a road up there."
Frank advanced a little; a man was lying somewhat propped up against a
tree. His eyes were closed, and there was a ghastly wound in his head.
"Willy, it's a Yankee, and he's shot."
"Is he dead?" asked the others, in awed voices.
"No. Let's ask him if he's hurt much."
They all approached him. His eyes were shut and his face was ashy
white.
"Willy, it's _my_ Yankee!" exclaimed Frank.
The wounded man moved his hand at the sound of the voices.
"Water," he murmured. "Bring me water, for pity's sake!"
"I'll get you some,--don't you know me? Let me have your canteen,"
said Frank, stooping and taking hold of the canteen. It was held by
its strap; but the boy whipped out a knife and cut it loose.
The man tried to speak; but the boys could not understand him.
"Where are you goin' get it, Frank?" asked the other boys.
"At the branch down there that runs into the creek."
"The Yankees'll shoot you down there," objected Peter and Willy.
"_I_ ain' gwine that way," said Cole.
The soldier groaned.
"_I'll_ go with you, Frank," said Willy, who could not stand the sight
of the man's suffering.
"We'll be back directly."
The two boys darted off, the others following them at a little
distance. They reached the open field. The shooting was still going on
in the woods on the other side, but they no longer thought of it. They
ran down the hill and dashed across the little flat to the branch at
the nearest point, washed the blood from the canteen, and filled it
with the cool water.
"I wish we had something to wash his face with," sighed Willy, "but I
haven't got a handkerchief."
"Neither have I." Willy looked thoughtful. A second more and he had
stripped off his light sailor's jacket and dipped it in the water. The
next minute the two boys were running up the hill again.
When they reached the spot where the wounded man lay, he had slipped
down and was flat on the ground. His feeble voice still called for
water, but was much weaker than before. Frank stooped and held the
canteen to the man's lips, and he drank. Then Willy and Frank,
together, bathed his face with the still dripping cotton jacket. This
revived him somewhat; but he did not recognize them and talked
incoherently. They propped up his head.
"Frank, it's getting mighty late, and we've got to go home," said
Willy.
The boys' voice or words reached the ears of the wounded man.
"Take me home," he murmured; "I want some water from the well by the
dairy."
"Give him some more water."
Willy lifted the canteen. "Here it is."
The soldier swallowed with difficulty.
He could not raise his hand now. There was a pause. The boys stood
around, looking down on him. "I've come back home," he said. His eyes
were closed.
"He's dreaming," whispered Willy.
"Did you ever see anybody die?" asked Frank, in a low tone.
Willy's face paled.
"No, Frank; let's go home and tell somebody."
Frank stooped and touched the soldier's face. He was talking all the
time now, though they could not understand everything he said. The
boy's touch seemed to rouse him.
"It's bedtime," he said, presently. "Kneel down and say your prayers
for Father."
"Willy, let's say our prayers for him," whispered Frank.
"I can say, 'Now I lay me.'" But before he could begin,
"'Now I lay me down to sleep,'" said the soldier tenderly. The boys
followed him, thinking he had heard them. They did not know that he
was saying--for one whom but that morning he had called "his
curly-head at home"--the prayer that is common to Virginia and to
Delaware, to North and to South, and which no wars can silence and no
victories cause to be forgotten.
The soldier's voice now was growing almost inaudible. He spoke between
long-drawn breaths.
"'If I should die before I wake.'"
"'If I should die before I wake,'" they repeated, and continued the
prayer.
"'And this I ask for Jesus' sake,'" said the boys, ending. There was a
long pause. Frank stroked the pale face softly with his hands.
"'And this I ask for Jesus' sake,'" whispered the lips. Then, very
softly, "Kiss me good-night."
"Kiss him, Frank."
The boy stooped over and kissed the lips that had kissed him in the
morning. Willy kissed him, also. The lips moved in a faint smile.
"God bless----"
The boys waited,--but that was all. The dusk settled down in the
woods. The prayer was ended.
"He's dead," said Frank, in deep awe.
"Frank, aren't you mighty sorry?" asked Willy in a trembling voice.
Then he suddenly broke out crying.
"I don't want him to die! I don't want him to die!"