THE SKIRMISH ON THE HILL ROAD
Brown Kipps leaped over the seat, and acted as though he was in a hurry
to reach Deck Lyon, after he had explained the desperate deed he had
contemplated; and the latter thought the movement indicated violence on
the part of the foreman.
"Halt where you are, Kipps! Don't come any nearer!" exclaimed Deck; and
the revolver in his hand enforced his command.
"Don't shoot, sonny! I only wanted to catch you by the hand, and shake
it with right good will," replied Kipps, as he halted where the carbine
and sabre of the young cavalryman were lying between his two feet. "I
b'lieve what you been tellin' on us; and I reckon it's right lucky some
on us on this front seat ain't all ready to be put in the ground."
[Illustration: "Halt where you are, Kipps!"]
"I assure you that I have told you the exact truth," said Deck, as he
dropped his revolver to his side.
The moment he did so Kipps stooped as quick as a flash and picked up the
carbine.
"Don't shoot, little one!" he continued, as the prisoner raised his
weapon again, ready to meet this new combination in front of him.
Deck realized that he must act quick, and he was in the very act of
firing at the foreman when he spoke. He looked his opponent in the eye;
but the bridge-burner did not bring the carbine to his shoulder. He had
grasped it near the muzzle, and he held it with the stock hanging down;
but he proceeded no farther than this, and the revolver pointed at the
head of Kipps, ready to fire if he elevated the piece. He was in doubt.
The words of the foreman did not indicate that he meant violence; he
felt that he had chance enough to save himself by shooting his opponent
before he could bring the carbine to bear upon him. But perhaps this was
the most exciting moment in the lifetime of the young soldier.
"Don't shoot, sonny!" repeated Kipps, still holding the carbine in a
position that rendered it entirely useless; and as he spoke he advanced
towards his prisoner.
"Don't come any nearer, Kipps, or there will be a breathless body in
this wagon!" exclaimed Deck, with vim enough to convince the other that
he was in dead earnest.
"I won't come no nearer, if you say so, Lyons. I was only go'n' to bring
this shootin'-iron and give it back to you, jest to show you that I was
right friendly-like to you; and I wanted to catch you by the hand,
'cause I believe you could 'a' killed some or all on us if you'd had a
mind to. I reckon we won't quarrel after you've held up when you mou't
have stuck some on us."
"Drop that carbine, Kipps, and then I can better understand what you
mean," replied Deck.
"That's what's the matter, is it? I was only go'n' to give it back to
you," protested the foreman, as he let go of the piece; and it dropped
upon the loading of the wagon.
Deck lowered his revolver to his side; and Kipps climbed over the
bundles, boxes, tools, and cans, till he was within reach of his late
prisoner, for he seemed no longer to regard him as such. He extended his
big hand to the cavalryman, whose right still firmly held his weapon,
and he took the hand of the other with his left.
"That's a right-down honest Tennessee fist, Lyons, and the gizzard
always goes with it," said he, as he squeezed the hand of Deck till he
was on the point of crying out with the pain of the cracking bones.
"There's that cheese-knife and shooter of yourn, and you can take 'em as
soon as you get ready. You're a Yankee; but you've sunthin' more'n a
rock for a gizzard."
"There's my hand in yours, Kipps; it's the left, but that is nearest to
the heart," replied Deck, now fully trusting the Tennesseean, as he
thrust the revolver into his pocket, satisfied that he should have no
further use for it at present.
"You've got a rayle Tennessee gizzard in your bowels, Lyons, and I like
you. If anybody wants to do you an ill turn, he's got to fight Brown
Kipps, sure," added the foreman.
"And the rest on us," put in Tom Lobkill.
"That's so," chimed in Lank Rablan. "We ain't none on us gone dead yet;
and if you hadn't got a gizzard tucked away somewhar in your bowels,
some on us mou't 'a' been on t'other side o' Jordan's swellin' flood."
"Here's your tools, Lyons," continued Kipps, as he brought the sabre and
carbine to Deck. "Here's the trimmin's that goes along with 'em, and you
can rig yourself out jest as you was when I fust laid eyes on you."
As he spoke he took from his pockets the belt, sling, and other articles
belonging to his equipment. Deck seated himself on the box again, and,
after he had adjusted them, he put them on. He turned his back to his
companions in the wagon, and restored his revolver to the hook where he
carried it; for he did not care to show them where it had been
concealed.
"I suppose you don't intend to carry me any farther, Kipps," said Deck,
when he had fully accoutred himself for a march; and he hoped to be in
the ranks of his company within a couple of hours.
With his companions, he believed the bridge had been destroyed, and that
his father had failed in the principal object of his mission, though he
had defeated the enemy in every engagement in which he had met them.
"I reckon you can go jest where you like, and kerry that gizzard o'
yourn with you," replied Kipps. "I'm only sorry you're a Yankee, for
you've behaved handsome enough to be a Tennesseean."
"I am equally sorry you are not all four Union soldiers, standing up
like true men for your country and its government," replied Deck.
"I reckon we'd better not talk on that subject, for we can't agree,
nohow," answered the foreman, as he went to the front of the wagon. "Now
you can git out at this end, for t'other's locked."
This was a happy conclusion of the whole matter; and Deck realized that
he had accomplished more by the course he had adopted than if he had
carried out his cold-blooded intention to shoot his custodians. He went
to the front, and Kipps assisted him to alight; for his weapons
interfered with his movements in descent.
"Where are we now, my friends?" asked Deck, as he looked about him.
"I don't know, no more'n a goose in a poke," replied Kipps. "We've come
some miles, more or less, from the railroad; and this is the road we
come down on. Where are we, Jube?" he demanded of the negro driver.
"I reckon we's here, Mars'r Kipps," replied the driver with a grin from
ear to ear.
"I reckon so too; but whar's here, Jupiter?"
"Donno whar you be, Mars'r!" exclaimed the negro, who seemed to think
the foreman was joking with him.
"I don't know whar I am, Jube; do you?" replied Kipps, looking about him
to identify anything in the surroundings.
"I know for sartin; we done come dis way befo', Mars'r. Dis is jest de
place whar we done struck in de field to find de roleraid," replied the
driver confidently. "Dis wot de fo'kes here call de hill road."
"But we didn't come over that log before."
"No, sar; dis nigger runn'd ag'in it, and twis' it round."
"I reckon we'd better camp here for the night, and wait for orders,"
said Kipps, "You can go the way you come, Lyons."
"I don't know that I can find my way," replied Deck. "I have been shut
up in your wagon all the way, so that I could see nothing."
"You can foller the wagon-track, and that will fotch you out all right,"
added Lank.
But Deck was in doubt about returning to the railroad. He knew that
Lieutenant Belthorpe had been sent over to the railroad, and he had seen
the troopers ride up the embankment. He thought it strange that he had
not encountered his force; and he proceeded, Indian fashion, to examine
the road for horse-tracks in the sand. The sod was so tough that it bore
no indentation inside of the log; but in the road he found plenty of
horseshoe marks, and he proceeded to study them.
They all indicated that the riders were headed to the south, or in the
direction of the east road, the latter of which led to the camp and
cross-roads. Was it possible that Belthorpe had returned to the camp?
This was what the marks suggested. Deck then walked by the log, and
found the track extended towards the north. He followed them for about a
quarter of a mile, and then he found where they began on the road.
At this point he found the fence had been thrown down, and there were
plenty of horse-tracks in the cornfield which it surrounded. These led
up from the direction of the railroad. In the soft ground he found, on
the left of the great body of the marks, which indicated that the
detachment had marched by fours, the print of a bar shoe, often called a
round shoe. He was aware that Tom Belthorpe rode a horse shod in this
manner, for the steed had belonged in the stable of the planter of
Riverlawn.
His investigation proved that not only a company of cavalry had come up
from the railroad to the highway, but that it was the force under
command of the first lieutenant of the first company. He returned to the
highway, wondering what had become of this detachment. But Deck did not
know that a portion of the Texan Rangers had come down the hill road, as
reported by the scouts of the squadron. He hastened back to the place
where he had left the wagon. As he approached it he saw two mounted
Rangers talking with the bridge-burners, or rather with the foreman of
them; and the other three were helping the driver to hitch on his mules,
for they had begun their preparations to camp there for the night.
The two scouts turned their horses and rode away in the direction from
which they had come. Deck had halted when he saw them, and put himself
behind a big tree at the side of the road. But as soon as they rode off
at a gallop, as though they were in a hurry, he advanced. The
bridge-burners were all busy in getting the mules ready for a start.
"You better make tracks with all your legs towards the railroad, sonny,"
said Kipps earnestly.
"What has turned up now?" asked Deck with interest.
"Them men was the scouts of our company, and we are ordered to move to
the north with all the speed we can get out of the mules," continued
Kipps. "Our company, or a part on't, will be here soon; and I don't want
'em to ketch you, Lyons, for I can't do nuthin' for you if they get hold
on you."
"All right, Kipps; and I am very much obliged to you for your kind
service. But where are you going?" asked Deck.
"I don't know no more'n the dead. I'm to foller this road, and I hain't
the leastest idee whar it'll fetch out," replied the foreman, as he took
his place on the front seat, and Jube started the unwilling team.
The driver plied his whip with cruel vigor, and the wagon soon
disappeared. Deck was perplexed. Belthorpe had marched up the hill road,
as indicated by the tracks of the horses, and the Rangers were marching
down the same road. How did it happen that they had not met, and a fight
had not ensued? He could not explain it. Just above him was a grove, or
a field covered with sparsely scattered trees.
Deck was very anxious to ascertain the situation of affairs in this
section, and he hoped to be able to give his father some important
information when he met him. He placed himself behind a tree in the
grove. He had hardly secured his position before he heard the clatter of
horses' hoofs and the clangor of sabres in the road above him. In a
minute he obtained a view of them, and they were Rangers. They were
hurrying their horses as though they were engaged in some important
movement.
The troops had not come abreast of the observer before he heard a
furious yell in the grove not far from him. The shout of "Riverlawn!"
was heard, with other yells; and a body of the Union cavalry dashed into
the road, and fired a volley from their carbines.
"Sling carbines! Draw sabres!" shouted an officer; and Deck recognized
the well-known voice of Tom Belthorpe. Then they charged into the enemy
with a fury that promised to annihilate them in a very short time.
Deck belonged in this portion of the first company; but he had no horse,
and he could not join in the charge; but he began to use his carbine.
The Texans fought bravely and desperately, and the two forces seemed to
be about equal. The interested observer saw one of his company topple
over from his horse, and the excited animal dragged him, with one foot,
in the stirrup, off the field. Deck caught the horse, and reduced him to
subjection with a vigorous arm. He released the soldier, who was
insensible, and placed him under a tree. Then he mounted the steed, and
dashed into the fight.
He had hardly struck a blow with his sabre before he heard the clanging
of sabres some distance in the rear. At the head of it was the officer
in command, with one arm in a sling, and his head tied up with bandages.
They were Texan cavalry, without a doubt; and Deck called the attention
of the lieutenant to the fact.