THE BLUE AND THE GRAY--AFLOAT
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TAKEN BY THE ENEMY
WITHIN THE ENEMY'S LINES
ON THE BLOCKADE
STAND BY THE UNION
FIGHTING FOR THE RIGHT
A VICTORIOUS UNION
THE BLUE AND THE GRAY--ON LAND
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BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER
IN THE SADDLE
A LIEUTENANT AT EIGHTEEN (IN PRESS)
(Other volumes in preparation)
ANY VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY.
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS BOSTON
[Illustration: "Be you uns soldiers, mass'r?"]
THE
BLUE AND THE GRAY
ON LAND
BY OLIVER OPTIC
IN THE SADDLE
_The Blue and Gray Army Series_
IN THE SADDLE
BY
OLIVER OPTIC
AUTHOR OF "THE ARMY AND NAVY SERIES" "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD" FIRST
AND SECOND SERIES "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES" "THE GREAT WESTERN
SERIES" "THE WOODVILLE STORIES" "THE ONWARD AND UPWARD
SERIES" "THE LAKE SHORE SERIES" "THE YACHT-CLUB SERIES"
"THE RIVERDALE STORIES" "THE BOAT-BUILDER SERIES"
"THE BLUE AND GRAY NAVY SERIES" "A MISSING MILLION"
"A MILLIONAIRE AT SIXTEEN" "A YOUNG
KNIGHT-ERRANT" "STRANGE SIGHTS ABROAD"
"AMERICAN BOYS AFLOAT" "THE
YOUNG NAVIGATORS" ETC.
BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD PUBLISHERS
10 MILK STREET
1895
COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY LEE AND SHEPARD
_All Rights Reserved_
IN THE SADDLE
TO MY FRIEND
WILLIAM R. BEATTY
MY COMPANION IN MANY VERY AGREEABLE ASSOCIATIONS
THIS VOLUME
IS CORDIALLY DEDICATED
PREFACE
"In The Saddle" is the second of the "Blue and Gray--On Land." In the
first volume a New Hampshire family was transplanted to the southern
part of one of the Border States just before the breaking out of the
Great Rebellion, now happily an event of the somewhat distant past. An
attempt is made in that book to describe the condition of the region in
the progress of the story; and the material for it was diligently looked
up in the records of those stormy times, in those of official character
in the archives of the State in which the events transpired, as well as
in "The Record of the Rebellion," Congressional Reports, and the
multitude of histories, narratives, biographies, and miscellaneous works
on the shelves of public and private libraries. The writer believes his
material statements are correct, and that the pictures he has given of
the disorderly condition of the State of Kentucky, especially in
the southern portion, are not overdrawn.
The story of the Lyon family introduces two branches of it, both from
the same Northern locality, though, unhappily, not of the same way of
thinking on the great question of loyalty to the national government and
Secession with the South. Plantation life and manners are presented to
some extent, as one of the brothers comes into possession of a large
estate and half a hundred slaves by the will of a Kentucky member of the
Lyon family. The first volume of the series is devoted to the "bringing
out" of the loyal element in the county where the plantation is located,
in opposition to the more demonstrative secession or neutral sentiment.
A Union meeting in a schoolhouse, disturbed by the "ruffians," as they
had come to be called, in which the loyal citizens vigorously defend
themselves, and expel the intruders, brings the affairs of the
neighborhood to a crisis. The planter is attacked by a mob, and with the
assistance of a few of his friends, and by arming a portion of his
negroes, successfully encounters the disturbers of the peace. Following
these stirring events, two companies of cavalry are enlisted by an
authorized officer, carefully drilled, and put in readiness to take the
field.
In the present volume this battalion enters upon active service. The
same characters are presented in the uniform of cavalrymen, mounted on
the fine equine stock of the plantation. Noah Lyon, the head of the
family, obtains an actual military title, instead of the merely
complimentary one given to him by his friends and neighbors. His two
sons, Deck and Artie, appear in the front rank in the operations in
which the squadron is engaged, though both of them enter the service as
privates. The young men are of the loftiest moral character, actuated by
the purest and most devoted patriotism. They are of good physique, in
vigorous health, and do not seem to know the meaning of the word fear.
If their individual exploits seem to any to be extravagant, they have
been more than paralleled on the battle-field in hundreds of instances.
Both of them are exceedingly fond of their steeds; and Deck, in the
months devoted to drill, makes no insignificant figure as a
horse-trainer. His steed, one of the blood stock of his deceased uncle,
is so intelligent and so apt a scholar, that he enables his rider to
achieve some rather wonderful feats in action. He is modest, and, when
praised for his deeds, attributes them to "Ceph." This young soldier
wins and obtains a promotion which will supply the title for the next
volume.
In contrast with the progressive fortunes of the loyal brother and his
two sons, the disloyal one, who had become, through the influence of his
money rather than his ability, the leader of the "ruffians," is again
introduced, with his two boys, who follow in the footsteps of their
father till they become disgusted with their lot.
The operations of the loyal battalion of cavalry are confined to the
protection of the bridges on the railroads, and to repressing "partisan"
onslaughts and outrages upon towns and villages largely inhabited by
citizens who are faithful to the national government. But the officers
and privates are faithful where loyalty meant vastly more than in the
North; and their zeal and earnestness in the discharge of their duty
left a stirring record behind them wherever they went.
WILLIAM T. ADAMS.
DORCHESTER, Dec. 12, 1894.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. PAGE
COLLECTING A BILL BY FORCE OF ARMS 15
CHAPTER II.
REVELATIONS OF A YOUNG GUARDSMAN 27
CHAPTER III.
SOMETHING ABOUT THE LYON FAMILIES 39
CHAPTER IV.
THE DAY'S MARCH OF THE SQUADRON 52
CHAPTER V.
THE LEADER OF THE SCOUTING-PARTY 64
CHAPTER VI.
A VERY OBSTINATE PRISONER CAPTURED 76
CHAPTER VII.
PREPARING FOR ACTIVE OPERATIONS 88
CHAPTER VIII.
THE ACTION BY THE RAILROAD BRIDGE 100
CHAPTER IX.
AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE ENEMY'S SCOUTS 112
CHAPTER X.
THE BATTLE BEGUN AT THE CROSS-ROADS 124
CHAPTER XI.
A DESPERATE CHARGE ON BOTH SIDES 137
CHAPTER XII.
THE YOUNG HERO OF THE BATTLE 149
CHAPTER XIII.
THE PERPLEXING MOVEMENTS OF THE ENEMY 161
CHAPTER XIV.
A LONG WAIT FOR THE ENEMY 173
CHAPTER XV.
THE AMERICAN FLAG ON THE BRIDGE 185
CHAPTER XVI.
THE EXPLOSION ON THE BRIDGE 197
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CONFUSION OF THE DAY EXPLAINED 209
CHAPTER XVIII.
INTRODUCING MR. BROWN KIPPS 221
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CONSPIRACY ON THE BRIDGE 234
CHAPTER XX.
THE OPERATIONS OF THE BRIDGE-BURNERS 246
CHAPTER XXI.
A NEW DISPOSITION OF THE FORCES 258
CHAPTER XXII.
A DESPERATE DEED CONTEMPLATED 270
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE SKIRMISH ON THE HILL ROAD 282
CHAPTER XXIV.
CAPTAIN DINGFIELD'S STRATEGY 294
CHAPTER XXV.
SUNDRY FLANK MOVEMENTS ARRANGED 306
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE ENEMY'S BATTLE WITH THE MUD 318
CHAPTER XXVII.
AT THE CAMP-FIRE NEAR THE ROAD 330
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 342
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE RIVERLAWN CAVALRY CHANGES BASE 354
CHAPTER XXX.
THE MAGNATE OF GREELTOP'S VISIT 366
CHAPTER XXXI.
LIFE KNOX ON THE MOUNTAIN ROAD 378
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE SKIRMISH IN THE GREAT CIRCLE 390
CHAPTER XXXIII.
CAPTAIN STINGER THE FIRE-EATER 402
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE RE-ENFORCEMENT FOR PLAIN HILL 414
CHAPTER XXXV.
SURROUNDED AND TOTALLY DEFEATED 426
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CAPTAIN VINEGOLD OF THE GUERILLAS 439
ILLUSTRATIONS.
"BE YOU UNS SOLDIERS, MASS'R?" _Frontispiece._
ILLUSTRATED TITLE.
PAGE
"HELP! HELP! SHOUTED THE VICTIM" 18
"ONE OF THE TEXANS TUMBLED FROM HIS HORSE" 123
"SLING CARBINES! CHARGE THEM!" 207
"HALT WHERE YOU ARE, KIPPS!" 282
"WHAT ARE YOU UNS DOING HERE?" 317
"THE RUFFIAN SEEMED TO BE AS POWERLESS AS
AN INFANT IN HIS GRASP" 383
IN THE SADDLE
CHAPTER I
COLLECTING A BILL BY FORCE OF ARMS
"Help! Help!"
This call for assistance came from a small house, poorly constructed by
those who had little skill in the art of carpentry. It stood near the
Spring Road, in a field of about ten acres of land, under cultivation,
though the rank weeds among the useful plants indicated that it had been
sorely neglected.
Those familiar with the locality would have recognized it as the abode
of one of those small farmers found all over the country, who were
struggling to improve their worldly condition on a very insufficient
capital. The house was hardly finished, and the want of skill was
apparent in its erection from sill to ridgepole.
Swinburne Pickford was the proprietor of the dwelling and land. He
worked for farmers, planters, and mechanics, for any one who would give
him employment, in addition to his labor in the cultivation of his land;
and with the sum he had been able to save from his wages, he had bought
the land, and started the small farm on his own account. He had a wife
and two small children; and, as his time permitted, he had built the
house with his own hands alone.
The section of the State of Kentucky in which this little place was
located had been sorely disturbed by the conflicts and outrages of the
two parties at the beginning of the War of the Rebellion, one struggling
to drag the State out of the Union, and the other to prevent its
secession. As in the other States of the South, the advocates of
disunion were more violent and demonstrative than the loyal people, and
after the bombardment of Fort Sumter appeared to be in the ascendant for
this reason.
The entire South had been in a state of excitement from the inception of
the presidential campaign which resulted in the election of Abraham
Lincoln, and the industries of this region suffered in consequence; and
it looked as though Pickford's house would never be entirely finished.
With the exception of the chimney, placed outside of the building, after
the fashion of the South, he had done all the work himself. Titus Lyon,
the mason of the village of Barcreek, had done this portion of the
labor, and the bill for its erection was still unpaid.
Inside of the house two young men, the older about eighteen and the
younger sixteen, both armed with muskets, had dragged the proprietor of
the house to the floor. One of them had his foot on the chest of the
fallen farmer, and the other was pointing his gun at him. Pickford had
evidently endeavored to protect himself from the assault of his two
assailants, who had got the better of him, and had only given up the
battle when pinned to the floor by the foot of one of them.
"Will you pay the bill I have brought to you?" demanded Sandy Lyon, who
was the principal aggressor in the assault. "Dr. Falkirk paid you over
fifty dollars to-day, and you have got the money to pay the bill, which
has been standing two years."
Swin Pickford made no reply to this statement; but just at that moment
he heard the clippetty-clip of a galloping horse in the road in front of
the house. With the foot of one of his assaulters on his chest, and the
other with an old gun in his hand at his side, Pickford realized that
nothing could be done but submit. Shooting in that locality and at that
time was no uncommon occurrence; for there seemed to be no law in the
land, and men generally settled their own grievances, or submitted to
them.
"Help! Help!" shouted the victim of the present outrage, with all the
strength of his lungs, which gave him voice enough to make him heard a
quarter of a mile distant.
"Shut up your head!" savagely yelled Sandy Lyon, as he pressed his foot
down with all his might by throwing all his weight upon the breast of
the prostrate farmer.
The sound of the horse's feet in the road seemed to give the victim a
new hope, and he tried to shout again. But Sandy flew at his throat like
a wolf, and choked him into silence.
"Find a couple of ropes or cords, Orly, and we will tie his hands behind
him!" called Sandy to his brother.
[Illustration: "'Help! Help!' shouted the victim."]
The younger brother hastened to obey the order. Finding nothing of the
description required, he rushed into the rear room of the house. The
pressure of the assailant's hands upon his throat, and the hope of
assistance from outside, stimulated the victim to further resistance,
for the gun in the hands of Orly no longer threatened him. With a
desperate struggle he threw Sandy over backwards, and sprang to his
feet. His persecutor picked himself up, and was about to throw himself
upon him again. Pickford, who was nearly exhausted by the struggle and
the choking, rushed to the open door; and as he was about to pass out he
encountered a young man in the uniform of a cavalryman, with a sabre
dangling at his side, and a carbine slung on his back.
At the moment when the cry for help came from the house, the young man,
mounted on a spirited horse, was riding along the Spring Road. He was a
stout fellow, not more than eighteen years old, with a pleasant face,
though a physiognomist would have observed upon it a look of
determination, indicating that he could not be trifled with on a serious
occasion. Neither the house nor the man who occupied it would have
tempted the soldier to enter it for any other reason than the call that
had just come from it.
The cavalryman reined in his steed, and halted him with his head to a
post in front of the dwelling. Dismounting in haste, he threw the reins
over the hitching-hook and hurried to the front door, just in time to
encounter Pickford as he was rushing out. The victim of the outrage was
gasping for breath, and presented a really pitiable aspect to the young
soldier, to whom he was not a stranger, though they had met as enemies
and not as friends.
"What's the trouble?" asked Deck Lyon, the cavalryman, as he encountered
the owner of the miniature plantation.
"I have been set upon, and nearly killed by your cousins, Sandy and Orly
Lyon, and one of them has nearly choked me to death," gasped Pickford.
"By my cousins!" exclaimed Deck Lyon, astonished at the reply of the
victim.
"Yes; both on 'em," groaned Swin, as he was generally called.
"I supposed you had gone to the county town with the Home Guards," added
Deck.
"No; I never 'listed, 'cause I have a family to take care on."
"Come in, and let me see what the trouble is," continued Deck, as he
pushed Swin in ahead of him.
Sandy had been in the act of throwing himself upon his victim again,
when he discovered his cousin in the person of the cavalryman. The sight
of him caused the angry young man to fall back; and Deck entered the
room just as Orly appeared at the rear door with a piece of bed-cord in
his hand.
"Good-morning, Sandy," said Deck, as pleasantly as though nothing had
called for his interference. "There seems to be some trouble here."
"Trouble enough," replied Sandy in a sulky tone.
"Swin Pickford calls for help as though you intended to murder him,"
continued Deck, as he looked from one to the other of the belligerents,
and took in Orly with the cord at the same time. "You are all on the
same side of the national fight, and you ought to be friends."
"We are not on the same side, for Pickford is a traitor," answered
Sandy.
"I'm no traitor!" protested Swin. "But I should like to ask what you and
Orly are, if I'm one. I was willing to join the Home Guards for home
service; but when they started to go inter the Confederate army, I took
off my name, for I didn't j'in for no sech work. But Sandy and Orly went
off with the company, and then deserted and come home. What's the sense
of them callin' me a traitor when I'm not one, and they be."
"If they deserted, they did a sensible thing," said Deck with a smile,
as he glanced at his two cousins. "But I am not here to settle any such
quarrel as this; for I don't care how much you ruffians fight among
yourselves."
"The trouble here has nothing to do with politics or the Home Guards,"
replied Sandy.
"Nothing at all, Deck," added Orly.
"What is it all about, then?" inquired Deck. "I came in because a cry
was heard from the house which made me think a murder was going on
here."
"That's jest what was goin' on here!" exclaimed Pickford.
"Nothing of the sort," protested Sandy. "Not a word has been said here
about the army or the Home Guards."
"But your father has marched his company farther south, to join General
Buckner's army."
"That had nothing to do with our business here. Swin Pickford owes
father twenty-seven dollars for building the chimney of this house, and
he has owed it for about two years, and it is time the bill was paid."
"That's all so, Deck Lyon; I don't deny none on't," added Pickford, who
had recovered his breath and his temper by this time. "But I hain't had
the money to pay the bill. I'm an honest man, and I allus pay my debts
when I ken. Times have been hard with me for the last two years. Folks
has been all over inter politics, and I couldn't hardly git money enough
to pay for the bread and butter of my wife and children; for there
wasn't next to no work at all."
"That's a poor excuse in your case, Swin," added Sandy.
"I went to Cap'n Titus more'n a year ago, and talked to him about that
debt," continued Pickford, without heeding the remark of Sandy. "He got
heaps of money out of his brother's property, and I didn't s'pose he
needed the money. I offered him five dollars, and told him I'd try to
pay him five every month. But he didn't want me to do it that way, and
told me I could pay it all to once, when I had the money. Then he wanted
me to help him git up the company, and I did; I hoofed it all over the
county for him, sometimes when I might have worked."
"But he has got money now!" Sandy broke in. "Dr. Falkirk paid him fifty
dollars this morning at the grocery; for I saw him do it, and heard him
say how much it was."
"I don't deny that, nuther," said the unfortunate debtor. "But I haven't
got three dollars left of that money now. I paid Grunge the grocer
nineteen dollars on't; for he knows I'm an honest man, and trusted me.
Then I paid a man that's poorer'n I am for some work he done on my
place, seven dollars and a half, and I had to pay my taxes or lose my
farm."
"I saw Dr. Falkirk pay him that money, and Orly and I tramped all the
way over here; for we have no horses at home now. He's got the money,
and won't pay the bill. Mother wants the money very much," added Sandy.
"She hasn't got a dollar in the house," Orly put in, perhaps telling
more than his brother wished to have revealed.
"Then you came over here to collect the bill at the muzzle of your gun,"
suggested Deck, who had seen the younger brother pick up his weapon,
which had fallen on the floor.
"We meant to make him pay," said Sandy. "I believe he has the money, and
I meant to search the house till I found it."
"You would have s'arched till the last gun fires, and you wouldn't found
it then," protested the victim, as he took an old wallet from his
pocket, which was found to contain about three dollars in silver.
"That's all I've got in this world, and none in the next."
"I don't believe he has got any more money, Sandy," said Deck to his
cousin, as he stepped up to him, and spoke to him in a low tone.
"I'm willin' to give him two dollars outen the little I got, though he
abused me wus'n any man ever did in this world, and sha'n't in the
next," interposed Pickford.
"I will take what I can get," replied Sandy, as he took the bill from
his pocket.
The debtor paid him two dollars in silver; and if his mother, as Orly
affirmed, had not a single dollar in the house, this small sum would be
gladly received by her. Deck led the way out of the house, and his two
cousins followed, just as Mrs. Pickford and her two small children came
into the room. The sight of them was enough to assure the visitors of
the poverty of the husband and father.