"I have to sit down," remarked Tom suddenly. "Sorry, but my legs don't seem
to be much good."
"We've got to be getting on and report to the Captain. You'd better climb
on your horse," remarked the Sergeant.
"I'll walk the rest of the way, thanks," said Tom. "Star's done about
enough work for one night. Wait a minute and I'll be all right."
"Have a hard time getting through?" asked one of the men.
"Oh, not so very hard," replied Tom. The memory of all the miseries of that
long chase seemed dulled in his mind now. "The worst of it was that I was
wet all the time, wet to the skin. Then I didn't have anything to eat for
about two days. Got a little touch of the fever."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed the Sergeant. "Say, that's a good horse you've got
there! Where did you find it?"
"Maybe I'll tell you after the war's over," answered Tom.
"Ah! Well, you had luck, anyhow."
"Yep," answered Tom. He put his hand into his pocket and clutched
Marjorie's handkerchief. "Yep, I had luck, all right enough. I can walk
now, I guess. Let's go report to the Captain."
It was daylight when they reached the headquarters of the guard. The Sentry
posted before the door watched them approach, then called out: "'Lo there,
Serg. Got a Johnny Reb for our breakfast?"
"Reb nothing!" replied the Sergeant. "This boy's one of the raiders."
The Sentry's jaw dropped slightly. He stared for a moment, then turned and
bolted through the door, yelling back over his shoulder, "I'll get the
Captain out. Isn't up yet."
They entered the house, and Tom dropped into the first chair he reached.
"Sergeant," he said, "have one of your men take care of my horse. He can
have some water now."
"All right, Lieutenant."
"I'm no Lieutenant--I'm a private, a raw recruit."
"Huh?" grunted the Sergeant incredulously.
"That's the truth."
"Well, if you ain't a Lieutenant you ought to be and I'll bet my stripes
that you will be. Hey, Max, you go out and see that the Lieutenant's horse
is taken care of."
From upstairs they could hear the sound of voices and the scurrying of
feet. Presently someone clattered down the stairs. The door swung open and
the Captain entered, buttoning his coat.
"Glad to see you, my boy!" he exclaimed. "Don't bother about getting up.
You can go, Sergeant." He drew a chair up close to Tom's; then as the
Sergeant started to leave the room, he said, "Have my messenger ready to
travel. Give him the fastest horse we've got in the place."
"Yes, sir."
"Now, tell me about it. In the first place, what's your name and regiment?"
"Tom Burns, private, Company B, Second Ohio," answered Tom proudly. With
the Captain jotting down notes, he told the first accurate story of the
raid up to the moment when they had abandoned the train; then of his own
experiences in escaping. "I finally reached this side of the river on the
flatboat, and swam ashore. That was yesterday morning. Let's see--was it
yesterday or the day before?" He looked back over the tangle of nights and
days, and thought for a moment. "Yes, it was yesterday morning. I'm sorry
that I'm so confused, but so many things have happened that I'm all mixed
up."
"I understand," said the Captain.
"Then...." continued Tom. He stopped. "No, I can't tell you any more.
Another person helped me. If it hadn't been for that person I would never
have reached the lines. And if it ever got out they'd make a lot of trouble
for...." He caught himself on the verge of saying "her," and added, "for
that person."
"Well," said the Captain, "that's of no importance to us. It makes no
difference. The point is that you're back again."
"It's of importance to me, I can tell you," said Tom.
"Hm-m-m, I guess so. All right, Tom Burns, I'm going to send a messenger to
get this news on the wire to headquarters. You're about worn out. Sorry
that there's just one bed here. That's the one I've just climbed out of,
but you're welcome to it."
"Couldn't ask for anything better," replied Tom sleepily. He arose and
stretched his tired muscles. "Will you make sure that my horse is being
properly cared for, Captain? He's a fine horse.... Where is that bed,
Captain?"
It was evening when he awoke, and he remained awake long enough to eat some
food which an orderly brought for him. Then, with the intention of getting
up after a few minutes, he closed his eyes again. The next thing he knew it
was daylight again. He jumped out of bed and opened the door.
"Good morning," called a soldier as Tom peered out. "Have a good nap, young
man?"
"What day is this, anyhow!" demanded Tom. "How long have I been sleeping?"
"Just twenty-four hours, that's all," answered the soldier.
"Hello, Burns." It was the Captain. "How are you?"
"Fine! But I'm ashamed of myself for cheating you out of your bed."
"You've earned a bed, my boy. Get some clothes on and we'll have breakfast.
Can you travel today?"
"Yes."
"A message came from Mitchel at Huntsville. He wants to see you."
And so Tom, mounted upon Star and accompanied by the Captain's messenger,
retraced the road to Shelbyville and followed the course of Mitchel's army
southward. All along the route, when the news spread that one of the
raiders was passing through, they were surrounded by soldiers, who wanted
to hear the story and to shake hands. Finally Tom begged the messenger not
to tell people who he was, not to mention the raid. "We'll never get to
Huntsville if this keeps up," he said.
It was noon of the third day when they reined their horses in at the
outskirts of the town, and exhibited their pass to a Sentry. "Let 'em past,
boys," yelled the Sentry. "Here's the raider!" They trotted into Huntsville
with the soldiers yelling. And it was all that Tom could do to keep from
yelling. Now, for the first time, the full exultation of being back again
struck him; but he sat speechless, stroking Star's neck nervously.
They pulled up before headquarters.
"Tom!"
Tom glanced about and saw Bert running toward him.
"Bert!"
Tom jumped from Star's back, tossed the reins to the messenger and they met
as though in collision. "Good work, Tom! When the word came, the company
went wild. The Captain got leave for me to come up here and meet you. Go on
in and report to the General. I'll be out here waiting for you." Bert
thumped him on the back and started him towards the door.
Tom followed the Sergeant of the Guard into the anteroom, and stood, ill at
ease, looking out of the windows into the yard, until the General could
receive him. Presently the door behind him opened, and he turned, expecting
to see the Sergeant. Instead, it was General Mitchel himself. Tom snapped
to attention.
"Welcome back again, Private Burns," boomed the General. He approached and
their hands met with a _smack!_ The General was beaming. "Glad to see you,
boy. I'm proud of you. Come in here." He took Tom's arm and led him toward
the private office.
"Now let's have the yarn," said the General, lighting a cigar and leaning
back in his chair. Tom glanced about him and saw that the office had
originally been a dining-room. The family table, which was strewn with
maps, served as the General's desk, and the disorder of the chairs showed
that there had been a recent meeting of the staff. On the sideboard were
the remains of the General's lunch, which he had just finished.
"Am I the first one back?" asked Tom.
"Yes--the only one who has returned. I had just about given you all up as
captured."
"Then you think the others are ... prisoners?"
"Afraid so--yes. When was it you captured the train--Friday or Saturday?"
"Saturday, sir."
"Hm-m-m, I thought so. That was what the reports from the South said, but I
couldn't be sure. And how was it you didn't take the train on Friday, as we
planned? But, perhaps, you'd better tell me the story right from the
beginning."
Once again, Tom started with his departure from Murfreesboro and told in
detail of the movements of the raiders. The General listened intently,
scratching down occasional notes; presently he arose and spread a map
before them. Then, with their chairs close together, the General and the
Private traced out the course of the raiders and the progress of the
locomotive race up to the point where Andrews had given the order to
abandon the engine and scatter.
"Hm-m-m, if he'd only stopped to fight--at the tunnel, say...." remarked
the General.
"That's what we wanted to do," answered Tom, "but he wouldn't."
"Of course," said the General, "we have to remember that Andrews was not a
soldier--he was a spy, and accustomed to another way of working. Too
bad.... Luck was dead against you, I'm afraid."
The General leaned back again and looked at him narrowly as he told the
story of his flight from the hotel and across the Tennessee. Tom continued:
"I would have been captured surely if it hadn't been for a certain person
who took care of me, and gave me a horse. The whole countryside was getting
up to search the woods for me. They were bringing the dogs out. Then I got
the horse; we cut through the fields ahead of them. That's all. I raced
until I tumbled into the arms of a Sentry."
The General drummed on the table with his pen, and emitted great puffs of
smoke. "Hm-m-m!" he said. "Hm-m-m! Not entirely successful, but a great
blow at the South all the same. I'm proud of you men, Burns--mighty proud
of you." He was silent for a moment, then: "I'm going to recommend you for
a commission."
"Thank you, sir," gasped Tom.
"You've earned it. You can go up North for training, and join us again
later--a Lieutenant. How'll you like that?"
"I'd like to have a commission, of course, but...."
"But what?"
"Why, you see, General, I'm nothing but a recruit, I've never even worn a
uniform."
"What?" exclaimed the General. Tom told him how he had come to take part in
the raid, how he had been sworn into the service just before his departure.
"Well," said the General at last, "that really makes no difference. You're
officer caliber, and that's enough."
"All the same, General, I think I'd like to go to my company, and get some
experience. Company B is in the fight now, isn't it?"
"Experience!" exclaimed the General.
"Experience as a soldier, I mean," Tom replied.
"Of course, of course," the General answered, laughing. "Yes, Company B is
in the fight. All right, my boy, all right. We'll send you there--for
experience!--and then North you go and learn the business of being an
officer."
"Thank you, sir."
The interview was at an end. They stood up and shook hands. Tom suddenly
remembered Star. "By the way, sir," he said. "A private doesn't generally
have a Kentucky thoroughbred, does he?"
"Not generally."
"Well, sir, I have one, but I guess the time for Star and me to part has
come. Will you take it? The person who gave Star to me is a good
Northerner. The ... the person would be proud to have the horse ridden by a
General."
"Do you think that _the person_"--the General smiled--"would be any prouder
to have a General riding the horse than she--pardon me!--than to have you
riding it?"
"I don't know, sir," replied Tom, with a grin. "But I know she'll be mighty
proud just the same."
"All right, my boy." The General called one of his aides and instructed him
to see that Tom reached Company B. They shook hands again and Tom walked
out of the headquarters building to find Bert waiting for him. The railroad
raid had ended.