"Here we are, Marjorie." He went forward to meet her. "Thanks a thousand
times for all you've done. You must go back now. I'm going on--so that they
won't catch me here."
"No, Tom, you can't go this way," she answered, crying. "I won't let you.
Here!--Joe and Sam--put those things down and stay here. Oh, Tom, they'll
surely catch you if you try it." She clutched his arm as though to hold him
from running into the woods.
"But, Marjorie, there's nothing we can do," he protested. "Please go back.
Don't you see what it'll mean if I'm found near here? If I had my horse,
the one I sent back from the ferry that day...."
"It's in the far pasture--three miles away," she answered. "Kirby'll have
the whole country looking for you by the time we could get it. You'll have
to stay here, Tom. I'll hide you in the house--Matty'll hide you over the
kitchen. Let me do that for you--let me take the risk. Please!"
"No! If they get me, they'll get me in the open. No, Marjorie. Go on back."
"Then take a horse from the stable. Take my horse."
"Yours?"
"Yes. Uncle gave him to me, and I give him to you. You must...."
"But they'll know...."
"No, they won't...."
"But tomorrow when they find...."
She was facing him squarely, holding to his arms and shaking him. "Matty's
husband is the stableman. He knows about you. He'll say that he turned the
horse into the pasture. You must.... Joe! Sam! Go up to the stable and
saddle my horse and bring him here. Run!"
"Yassum," replied the negroes in a breath. They disappeared into the
darkness. Tom's protest was smothered under Marjorie's hand. The wave of
excitement which had kept him on his feet passed, and it was as though he
had been caught in a powerful undertow which swept his legs from under him.
He sank down on the fallen log where they had been sitting together earlier
in the day.
"Can you ride? Are you strong enough?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes--if I once get my legs wrapped around him I can stick there. Marjorie,
if you're caught at this, all the raid will seem like an immense failure."
"But I won't be caught, and I will always be proud that you came to me when
you needed me, when I could help you."
"You're worth a dozen soldiers!" he exclaimed.
There was a moment of silence. "Poor Tom!" she said softly. "It's all so
terrible, isn't it? And so wonderful! You men have left the whole South
gasping at your bravery. Even Uncle--and he hates everything from the
North--says it's the most daring thing he's ever heard of."
"But you--you're from the North."
"Yes," she answered. "We don't talk about the war. He just takes it for
granted that I believe everything he believes. I've been here two years
now. When mother and father were alive I lived in Albany. I'm going back
just as soon as I can. Listen!"
There were more horses on the road.
"They're coming to join Kirby," she said. "I heard him say that more men
were coming. When Uncle went down to let them in, I went to the head of the
stairs to hear what they were saying. Uncle took them into the dining-room
to give them something to eat and drink; then I dressed and stole down."
"But how did they know that I was in this part of the country?"
"There was something about a boat. It was found ashore a few miles down the
river, and there was a report from Chattanooga that the boat had been
taken. I didn't wait to hear it all. Oh, I wish Joe and Sam would hurry!
You must get started before they leave. Men are going out in all
directions, and Kirby is taking the road to Wartrace. If you're ahead of
him they'll never catch you. Star can run like the wind."
"Star?"
"My horse," she explained. "He's a beautiful horse.... Oh, I wish they'd
hurry." There was anguish in her voice.
"They'll come just as fast as they can," replied Tom calmly. "Why don't you
go back to the house now!"
"I can't until you're on the road."
"Why not? Please go back now."
"I-I'll have to wait until the men have gone. I wouldn't dare to go back
until then. Then, too...." She faltered and stopped.
"What?"
"You can't leave by the main road. I'm going to show you the way through
the woods. Then there's a fence to jump. I'm going to take Star over it."
It was useless to protest, for she became calm again and determined. "I
want to do it," she said. "You've come to me for help, and it's my right to
help you all I can. And remember, I'll always be proud of it. Oh, so
proud!" She slipped her hand into his and they sat there quietly, straining
to catch the first sounds of the negroes returning.
"There they are--General Marjorie," he said presently.
She jumped up and ran to the horse. Tom could see her pressing her cheek to
the horse's nose, stroking its head and neck. "Go back now," she said to
the negroes. "Take everything with you. If Matty is up, tell her that I'll
be home in a few minutes."
"Yas, Miss Marjorie." Again they took up the blankets and clothes, and the
night swallowed them.
"Mount, Tom," ordered Marjorie. "No, don't argue! Hurry! You'll need all
your strength."
Laboriously, he did as he was told to do. With Marjorie leading Star, they
made their way through the woods. Once she stopped and listened. "They
haven't started yet," she said.
A few minutes later she stopped again. "There's the fence," she said. "Let
me mount now. You hold Star while I fix the stirrups." He slid to the
ground and stood there, while she measured the straps with her arms and
fixed the buckles. He could see her plainly now in the soft moonlight which
was flooding the world. Ahead of them was the black wall of the rail fence.
"Now," she said, "if you'll help me mount." He held his hands braced
against his knees so that they formed a step for her. She was up, adjusting
herself to the saddle, stroking Star's neck, talking to him softly. "You
climb the fence and wait on the other side," she ordered. Once again he did
as he was told to do.
She brought Star to the fence at an easy trot, let him smell it and see it;
then she tossed her handkerchief to Tom. "Put it on the top rail as a
marker," she said, as she turned back for the run.
Tom spread the handkerchief on the fence--a tiny spot of white to guide
Star over. Then he watched her, as she retreated into the black background
of the woods, his heart thumping so that it hurt. She had thrown aside her
cape when she mounted, and now she seemed so small and immature, sitting
there on Star's great back.
Star's hoofs pounded upon the soft turf, then his body emerged from the
shadows. Tom could see Marjorie crouching, riding to his gait, holding him
down for the jump. At the fence there was an instant's pause; Star's
forequarters rose slowly, deliberately; then, as easily as though he were a
great projectile reaching the topmost limit of its flight, Star floated
over the fence. He had cleared it by a foot.
Marjorie wheeled about, dismounted, and readjusted the stirrups. "There!"
she said. "Now--now, go."
"I can never thank you," he began.
"Don't--please don't even try," she interrupted. "Good luck once again.
Good-by, Star dear." She pressed her cheek against the horse's head.
"Good-by, Tom. Remember me always."
He mounted and for a moment they delayed the parting. He reached down and
took her hand. "Always, little soldier, always," he said. "Good-by."
"Listen!" The sounds of shouting came from the Beecham's. "They're
starting. Go straight ahead until you come to the road, then to your left."
He gave Star the reins, and above the beat of hoofs heard her call: "Good
luck, Tom!" He glanced back and saw her standing there, her arms raised
above her head. Then he realized that he had her handkerchief, which he had
taken from the fence, clutched in his hand, so he waved it as a last signal
of parting before he crammed it in his pocket.
They came to the road suddenly; Star planted his feet and slid on the soft
earth. Then, when they turned northward, Tom could feel all the strength of
the fine, valiant animal he was riding. It was a strength which seemed to
flow into the road, which carried him forward in long, swinging leaps.
"Go it, Star!" he said. "Go it, boy!" In his excitement he forgot that he
had ever had the fever, that his legs had been too weak to carry him. He
leaned forward, riding easily, peering ahead at the road.
Star was willing, but no horse could stand such a pace forever, so he
reined in to a trot. After he had passed the first farmhouse, he brought
the horse to a walk. "They'll stop there, old fellow," he confided. "You've
shown them what a pair of hind hoofs look like."
He remembered the road vaguely from his trip southward, but the houses and
the little towns looked different now in the moonlight. Through each
settlement he walked Star quietly, but always ready to throw himself
forward, dig his heels into the horse's flanks and race away. An hour
passed ... two hours ... three hours. They pressed northward steadily,
sometimes at a walk but usually at a comfortable, steady trot, and always
saving energy for that last dash if the need arose.
The first light of dawn found him a mile south of Manchester. "Guess we'd
better begin to step lively, Star," he said, reaching forward and stroking
the horse's neck. Star snorted and shook his head. They trotted around a
bend in the road. Ahead of them Tom distinguished a man who had dismounted
and was standing beside his horse.
"Get ready, boy," he whispered, reining in slightly.
"Hey! You!" called the man. "Where're _you_ going?"
Tom held his reins in his left hand, and took off his hat with his right
hand.
"None of your business!" he replied. Then with his hat he slapped the man's
horse on the head. He whooped, and dug his heels into Star's flanks. As
they shot forward, he saw the other horse rear up, pawing the air. The
man--he had the reins wrapped about his arm--was yanked from his feet and
sent sprawling. Tom, flat against Star's neck, with the black mane whipping
his face, sped down the road--past the spot where they had met Andrews that
first day of the raid, past the Widow Fry's and down the one street of
Manchester at a full gallop.
"Keep it up, Star!" he urged. "Go it, Star! We're almost there, old boy. Go
it, Star!" But there was little need of urging; Star's forelegs were
reaching out mechanically for the road, clipping it off in huge sections.
Each leap seemed like a convulsion. His neck was outstretched and his head
was thrust forward as though he were devouring the road.
Tom did not look back, but he cast out short, broken sentences to console
his pursuer. "Huh! Race me--on that hunk o'--dog meat. Get a--_horse_! If
you want to--race me--get a--_horse_. A horse that can--_run_! We'll
race--anything that--wears four legs. Won't we--Star? Huh!"
Presently he eased Star's gait, for the horse was beginning to breath too
heavily. "Guess they won't bother about us," he remarked. "Wonder how much
ground we covered then. Must be pretty close...."
"_Halt!_"
It was a cry that brought a yell of exultation to Tom's lips. There was no
mistaking it. No civilian could say halt in that tone.
Tom pulled on the reins and Star planted his feet; they went sliding past
the Sentry with his rifle glinting in the moonlight. "Halt there!" came the
second warning as Star came to a stop. "Put your hands up!"
Tom dropped the reins and raised his hands. Star, almost winded, seemed
propped upon his legs, rather than standing upon them. His head drooped and
each breath came as a great heave.
"Who are you?" demanded the Sentry.
"Friend," answered Tom.
"Password?"
"Haven't got it. I'm...."
"Keep your hands up," interrupted the Sentry; then he bawled out: "Sergeant
o' the gua-r-r-d. Post number-r _six_." The call was repeated as though by
an echo.
"I'm one of the railroad raiders," continued Tom. "I'm...."
"What?" yelled the Sentry. "Are you one of _them_? Say! Put those hands
down and let me shake 'em. Say!"