Tom awoke dazed from twelve hours of sleep. For a moment he could not
remember where he was; then it flashed across his mind. In Chattanooga! He
sprang from bed, dressed and went downstairs. It was late, but the
proprietor of the hotel gave him breakfast, after some grumbling about
people who had nothing to do but sleep.
The train from Marietta did not leave until two o'clock, and as the hotel
clock had just struck ten, Tom began to wonder what he should do with
himself. For a half-hour he sat in the hotel watching the people who passed
in and out. The sight of so many young men in civilian clothes reassured
him, for it meant that there was less chance of being questioned by the
military authorities. Finally he went out to the street. The rain had
stopped, and the sun was struggling through the clouds.
There were crowds of civilians and soldiers upon the narrow sidewalks, and
through the streets lumbered the heavy wagons of the Southern army. Tom
walked along slowly, scanning the faces of the people he passed, hoping to
catch a glimpse of Brown. Finally he reached the station.
A train had just come in, and the station was crowded with passengers,
struggling out with the bags and packages, and townspeople who had come to
get the news. Tom listened closely to the chatter. The train was from
Memphis and had passed over the line which Mitchel was about to attack.
There was no suggestion of excitement or activity along the route. Then the
news of Mitchel's movement had not advanced before him, thought Tom. To
him, that was the best news in the world. Mitchel's plans were successful.
He followed the crowd from the station and once again began wandering about
the streets. Not far away was a big shed labeled Commissary Department. The
army wagons were backed up to a loading platform, and Confederate soldiers
were busy transferring boxes of supplies. By this time Tom had lost the
first sense of strangeness at being in the enemy country, and so he went
over to watch the soldiers work.
Presently it was noon, and time for dinner. He returned to the hotel.
There, sitting apart from the others at one end of the long table, were
Brown and his companion! They glanced at him, and then continued eating. It
dawned upon Tom that while he knew Brown, Brown did not know him. He took a
seat opposite them.
"How d'you do?" said Tom.
Brown and the other man nodded, but did not speak.
"Just traveling through?" asked Tom.
"Yes," said Brown.
"Where are you from?" Tom's manner was casual and friendly.
"Kentucky," answered Brown.
"Oh, is that so? Coming through to enlist?"
"Yes."
"Whereabouts in Kentucky do you hail from?" persisted Tom.
"Fleming County."
"Well, that's good news! I'm from Fleming County myself. Let's see, I think
I remember you. Your name is Brown, isn't it?" Brown's eyes were wide; the
other man's jaw was drooping. "Surely I remember you," continued Tom.
"You're a locomotive engineer, aren't you? I presume you'll be running a
locomotive here in the South. We need engineers."
Brown was speechless; his companion was rising from the table.
"That's all right," said Tom. "Sit down! I'm Burns. We met at the same
place last Monday night, Brown."
"Young man!" said Brown, slowly recovering his power of speech. "When I get
my revenge on you, you'll feel it!"
"Whew!" breathed the other.
When dinner was finished, they left the hotel to find a spot where they
could talk. Tom told them of the change in plans. It was decided that they
should leave for Marietta on the afternoon train, rather than spend the
extra day in Chattanooga. Dorsey, who was traveling with Brown, thought
that there might be some others who had not been told of the change and who
would be on the train.
As they threaded their way through the crowd at the station, Tom caught the
first intimation of Mitchel's drive upon Huntsville. "The train is
jam-full," a man was saying. "There isn't a seat left. All those soldiers
who went through here this morning are being sent back."
"Why is that?" asked his companion.
"They don't seem to know," the man continued. "They got as far as
Stevenson--that's a little place down the line about thirty miles--and then
they received orders to go back. They're to join Beauregard at Corinth as
fast as they can by the way of Atlanta and Meridian."
"Hm-m-m, that's strange!"
"Perhaps there's a wreck between here and Corinth."
Tom whispered the news to Brown and Dorsey after they were aboard the
train. They exchanged glances.
It was ten o'clock that night when the brakeman of the train called,
"Marietta!" Dorsey was asleep on the coal box of the car, while Tom and
Brown dozed against the door. They had taken turns at the coal box for
eight hours. Now they moved stiffly out to the platform, relieved that the
journey had ended. For several minutes they waited at the station, slowly
circulating among the people to see if they could recognize any other
members of the expedition.
"I guess we're the only ones here," said Tom.
"Looks that way," replied Brown. "Let's go to the hotel."
"I'd give a good deal to know where Mitchel is at just this minute," said
Tom.
"So would I," replied Dorsey. "I hope we're not making a mistake by
delaying a day."
"It's my opinion," said Brown, "that when Mitchel starts to do a thing, it
takes more than mud to stop him."
They walked on silently toward the hotel.
While they drifted off to sleep that night, General Mitchel was perfecting
the last details of the attack upon Huntsville. Every road was blocked by
scouts to prevent the news of the advance going before them. Ten miles to
the south lay Huntsville, unaware of the approaching army.
The last rush of the advance commenced at two o'clock in the morning.
Mitchel's weary army struggled to its feet, and stood ready to march. The
cavalry was the first away, and disappeared silently into the night. There
were no bugle calls, and no shouting. Even the noise of the horses' hoofs
was deadened by the deep mud of the road. The four cannons which the
cavalry took with it fell into position; then the infantry moved forward.
As each regiment passed, General Mitchel addressed his men; then when the
last of them was on the road, he and his aides pressed towards the front.
When daylight came, the cavalry was four miles from Huntsville. The first
section of cavalry galloped to the west of the town, the second to the
east, while the remaining cavalrymen, led by General Mitchel, dashed for
the station. Now all restraints upon noise were removed. The shouting of
the cavalrymen drifted back to the infantrymen to quicken their steps, and
the cannons hammered along the road.
A few minutes later, Huntsville was in the control of the Union troops. At
the station, Mitchel found fifteen locomotives, eighty cars, and a cipher
message from Beauregard to the Confederate Secretary of War. Beauregard was
desperately in need of troops, said the decoded message.