AN IMPROVISED PICTURE GALLERY
Much to Graham's satisfaction, his regiment, soon after he joined it,
was ordered into the Shenandoah Valley, and given some rough, dangerous
picket duty that fully accorded with his mood. Even Hilland could not
expect a visit from him now; and he explained to his friend that the
other officers were taking their leaves of absence, and he, in turn,
must perform their duties. And so the winter passed uneventfully away
in a cheerful interchange of letters. Graham found that the front
agreed with him better than Washington, and that his pulse resumed its
former even beat A dash at a Confederate picket post on a stormy night
was far more tranquilizing than an evening in Hilland's luxurious rooms.
With the opening of the spring campaign Hilland joined his regiment,
and was eager to remove by his courage and activity the slightest
impression, if any existed, that he was disposed to shun dangerous
service. There was no such impression, however; and he was most
cordially welcomed, for he was a great favorite with both officers and
men.
During the weeks that followed, the cavalry was called upon to do heavy
work and severe fighting; and the two friends became more conspicuous
than ever for their gallantry. They seemed, however, to bear charmed
lives, for, while many fell or were wounded, they escaped unharmed.
At last the terrific and decisive campaign of Gettysburg opened; and
from the war-wasted and guerilla-infested regions of Virginia the
Northern troops found themselves marching through the friendly and
populous North. As the cavalry brigade entered a thriving village in
Pennsylvania the people turned out almost _en masse_ and gave them more
than an ovation. The troopers were tired, hungry, and thirsty; and,
since from every doorway was offered a boundless hospitality, the
column came to a halt. The scene soon developed into a picturesque
military picnic. Young maids and venerable matrons, gray-bearded
fathers, shy, blushing girls, and eager-eyed children, all vied with
each other in pressing upon their defenders every delicacy and
substantial viand that their town could furnish at the moment. A pretty
miss of sixteen, with a peach-like bloom in her cheeks, might be seen
flitting here and there among the bearded troopers with a tray bearing
goblets of milk. When they were emptied she would fly back and lift up
white arms to her mother for more, and the almost equally blooming
matron, smiling from the window, would fill the glasses again to the
brim. The magnates of the village with their wives were foremost in the
work, and were passing to and fro with great baskets of sandwiches,
while stalwart men and boys were bringing from neighboring wells and
pumps cool, delicious water for the horses. How immensely the troopers
enjoyed it all! No scowling faces and cold looks here. All up and down
the street, holding bridle-reins over their arms or leaning against the
flanks of their horses, they feasted as they had not done since their
last Thanksgiving Day at home. Such generous cups of coffee, enriched
with cream almost too thick to flow from the capacious pitchers, and
sweetened not only with snow-white sugar, but also with the smiles of
some gracious woman, perhaps motherly in appearance, perhaps so fair
and young that hearts beat faster under the weather-stained cavalry
jackets.
"How pretty it all is!" said a familiar voice to Graham, as he was
dividing a huge piece of cake with his pet Mayburn; and Hilland laid
his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Ah, Hilland, seeing you is the best part of this banquet _a la
militaire_. Yes, it is a heavenly change after the dreary land we've
been marching and fighting in. It makes me feel that I have a country,
and that it's worth all it may cost."
"Look, Graham--look at that little fairy creature in white muslin,
talking to that great bearded pard of a sergeant. Isn't that a picture?
Oh, I wish Grace, with her eye for picturesque effects, could look upon
this scene."
"Nonsense, Hilland! as if she would look at anybody or anything but
you! See that white-haired old woman leading that exquisite little girl
to yonder group of soldiers. See how they doff their hats to her.
There's another picture for you."
Hilland's magnificent appearance soon attracted half a dozen village
belles about him, each offering some dainty; and one--a black-eyed
witch a little bolder than the others--offered to fasten a rose from
her hair in his button-hole.
He entered into the spirit of the occasion with all the zest of his old
student days, professed to be delighted with the favor as she stood on
tiptoe to reach the lappet of his coat; and then he stooped down and
pressed his lips to the fragrant petals, assuring the blushing little
coquette, meanwhile, that it was the next best thing to her own red
lips.
How vividly in after years Graham would recall him, as he stood there,
his handsome head thrown back, looking the ideal of an old Norse
viking, laughing and chatting with the merry, innocent girls around
him, his deep-blue eyes emitting mirthful gleams on every side!
According to his nature, Graham drew off to one side and watched the
scene with a smile, as he had viewed similar ones far back in the
years, and far away in Germany. He saw the ripples of laughter that his
friend's words provoked, and recognized the old, easy grace, the light,
French-like wit, that was wholly free from the French _double
entendre_, and he thought: "Would that Grace could see him now, and she
would fall in love with him anew, for her nature is too large for petty
jealousy at a scene like that Oh, Hilland! you and the group around you
make the finest picture of this long improvised gallery of pictures."
Suddenly there was a loud report of a cannon from a hill above the
village, and a shell shrieked over their heads. Hilland's laughing
aspect changed instantly. He seemed almost to gather the young girls in
his arms as he hurried them into the nearest doorway, and then with a
bound reached Graham, who held his horse, vaulted into the saddle, and
dashed up the street to his men who were standing in line.
Graham sprang lightly on his horse, for in the scenes resulting from
the kaleidoscopic change that had taken place he would be more at home.
"Mount!" he shouted; and the order, repeated up and down the street,
changed the jolly, feasting troopers of a moment since into veterans
who would sit like equestrian statues, if so commanded, though a
hundred guns thundered against them.
From the further end of the village came the wild yell characteristic
of the cavalry charges of the Confederates, while shell after shell
shrieked and exploded where had just been unaffected gayety and
hospitality.
The first shot had cleared the street of all except the Union soldiers;
and those who dared to peep from window or door saw, with dismay, that
the defenders whom they had so honored and welcomed were retreating at
a gallop from the Rebel charge.
They were soon undeceived, however, for at a gallop the national
cavalry dashed into an open field near by, formed with the precision of
machinery, and by the time that the Rebel charge had wellnigh spent
itself in the sabring or capture of a few tardy troopers, Hilland with
platoon after platoon was emerging upon the street again at a sharp
trot, which soon developed into a furious gallop as he dashed against
their assailants; and the pretty little coquette, bold not only in love
but in war, saw from a window her ideal knight with her red rose upon
his breast leading a charge whose thunder caused the very earth to
tremble; and she clapped her hands and cheered so loudly as he
approached that he looked up, saw her, and for an instant a sunny smile
passed over the visage that had become so stern. Then came the shock of
battle.
Graham's company was held in reserve, but for some reason his horse
seemed to grow unmanageable; and sabres had scarcely clashed before he,
with the blade on which was engraved "Grace Hilland," was at her
husband's side, striking blows which none could resist. The enemy could
not stand the furious onset, and gave way slowly, sullenly, and at last
precipitately. The tide of battle swept beyond and away from the
village; and its street became quiet again, except for the groans of
the wounded.
Mangled horses, mangled men, some dead, some dying, and others almost
rejoicing in wounds that would secure for them such gentle nurses,
strewed the streets that had been the scene of merry festivity.
The pretty little belle never saw her tawny, bearded knight again. She
undoubtedly married and tormented some well-to-do dry-goods clerk; but
a vision of a man of heroic mold, with a red rose upon his breast,
smiling up to her just as he was about to face what might be death,
will thrill her feminine soul until she is old and gray.
That night Graham and Hilland talked and laughed over the whole affair
as they sat by a camp-fire.
"It has all turned out as usual," said Graham, ruefully. "You won a
victory and no end of glory; I a reprimand from my colonel."
"If you have received nothing worse than a reprimand you are
fortunate," was Hilland's response. "The idea of any horse becoming
unmanageable in your hands! The colonel understands the case as well as
I do, and knows that it was your own ravenous appetite for a fight that
became unmanageable. But I told him of the good service you rendered,
and gave him the wink to wink also. You were fearfully rash to-day,
Graham. You were not content to fight at my side, but more than once
were between me and the enemy. What the devil makes you so headlong in
a fight--you that are usually so cool and self-controlled?"
Graham's hand rested on a fair woman's name engraved upon his sword,
but he replied lightly: "When you teach me caution in a fight I'll
learn."
"Well, excuse me, old fellow, I'm going to write to Grace. May not have
a chance very soon again. I say, Graham, we'll have _the_ battle of the
war in a day or two."
"I know it," was the quiet response.
"And we must win, too," Hilland continued, "or the Johnnies will help
themselves to Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and perhaps New
York. Every man should nerve himself to do the work of two. As I was
saying, I shall write to Grace that your horse ran away with you and
became uncontrollable until you were directly in front of me, when you
seemed to manage him admirably, and struck blows worthy of the old
French duellist who killed a man every morning before breakfast. I
think she'll understand your sudden and amazingly poor horsemanship as
well as I do."
She did, and far better.
Hilland's prediction proved true. The decisive battle of Gettysburg was
fought, and its bloody field marked the highest point reached by the
crimson tide of the Rebellion. From Cemetery Ridge it ebbed slowly and
sullenly away to the south.
The brigade in which were the friends passed through another fearful
baptism of fire in the main conflict and the pursuit which followed,
and were in Virginia again, but with ranks almost decimated. Graham and
Hilland still seemed to bear charmed lives, and in the brief pause in
operations that followed, wrote cheerful letters to those so dear, now
again at their seaside resort. Grace, who for days had been so pale,
and in whose dark eyes lurked an ever-present dread of which she could
not speak, smiled again. Her husband wrote in exuberant spirits over
the victory, and signed himself "Lieutenant-Colonel." Graham in his
letter said jestingly to his aunt that he had at last attained his
"majority," and that she might therefore look for a little more
discretion on his part.
"How the boys are coming on!" exulted the old major. "They will both
wear the stars yet. But confound it all, why did Meade let Lee escape?
He might have finished the whole thing up."
Alas! the immeasurable price of liberty was not yet paid.
One morning Hilland's and Graham's regiments were ordered out on what
was deemed but a minor _reconnoissance_; and the friends, rested and
strong, started in high spirits with their sadly shrunken forces. But
they knew that the remaining handfuls were worth more than full ranks
of untrained, unseasoned men. All grow callous, if not indifferent, to
the vicissitudes of war; and while they missed regretfully many
familiar faces, the thought that they had rendered the enemy's lines
more meagre was consoling.
Graham and Hilland rode much of the long day together. They went over
all the past, and dwelt upon the fact that their lives had been so
different from what they had planned.
"By the way, Graham," said Hilland, abruptly, "it seems strange to me
that you are so indifferent to women. Don't you expect ever to marry?"
Graham burst into a laugh as he replied: "I thought we had that subject
out years ago, under the apple-tree--that night, you remember, when you
talked like a schoolgirl till morning--"
"And you analyzed and philosophized till long after midnight--"
"Well, you knew then that Grace had spoiled me for every one else; and
she's been improving ever since. When I find her equal I'll marry her,
if I can."
"Poor, forlorn old bachelor that you are, and ever will be!" cried
Hilland. "You'll never find the equal of Grace Hilland."
"I think I shall survive, Hilland. My appetite is good. As I live,
there are some Confederates in yonder clump of trees;" and he put spurs
to his horse on a little private _reconnoissance_. The few horsemen
vanished, in the thick woods beyond, the moment they saw that they were
perceived; and they were regarded as prowling guerillas only.
That night they bivouacked in a grove where two roads intersected,
threw out pickets and patrols, and kindled their fires, for they did
not expect to strike the enemy in force till some time on the following
day.