"A kiss, if nothing more," I answered.
She gave me a kiss then that told me something of what was in her
heart, and went away into the house.
"Goin' t' surround us," said Arv Law--"thet 's whut 's th' matter."
"Mus' be ready t' rassle 'em any minute," said Asher Eastman, as he
sidled over to a little group.
A young man came out of the house and took his place in line with a
big squirt-gun and a pail of steaming-hot water.
The night wore on; our fires burned low. As the approaching day
began to light the clearing, we heard a sound that brought us all
to our feet. A burst of bugle notes went chasing over the
timber-land to the tune of "Yankee Doodle." We looked at one
another in surprise. Then there came a thunder of hoofs in the
distance, the ragged outline of a troop of cavalry.
"Soldiers!" said Arv, as he raised his pike.
"The British?" somebody asked.
"Dunno," said he. "Ain' no Injuns, I don't b'lieve."
A troop of cavalry was approaching at a gallop. They pulled up a
few rods away and jammed into a big crescent of rearing, trampling
horses. We could see they were American soldiers. We all lowered
our guns.
"Who are you?" one of them shouted.
"Citizens," my father answered.
"Why are you armed?"
"To fight Injuns."
A chorus of laughter came from the cavalry.
They loosed rein, letting their horses advance.
"My dear man," said one of them, a big shako on his head, "there
ain't an Indian 'tween here an' St. Regis. We thought you were
British, an' it's lucky we did n't charge in the dark; we 'd have
cut you all to pieces before we knew who you were,"
A body of infantry was marching down the pike. They were the
volunteers of Captain Darius Hawkins, on their way to Ogdensburg,
with an escort of cavalry from Sackett's Harbor. The scare was
over. Women came out, laughing and chattering. In a few moments
they were all in the road, going home--men, women, and children.
I enlisted with Captain Hawkins, and hurried to the house, and
packed my things, and bade them all good-by.
V
I followed the camp and took my place in the ranks at Ogdensburg.
We went immediately into barracks--a structure long and low and
weather-stained, overlooking the St. Lawrence. There was a fine
level field in front of it, and a flag waving at the top of a high
staff. The men cheered lustily that afternoon as they passed it,
where stood General Jacob Brown, his cocked hat in his hand--a
splendid figure of a man, My delight in the life of a soldier began
that hour, and has never left me.
There was a lot of horse-play that night, in which some of the
green boys were roughly handled. They told me, I remember, that
all new recruits had to fight a duel; but when they gave me the
choice of weapons I was well content. I had the sure eye of my
father, and the last time I had fenced with him, there at home, he
said my arm was stronger and quicker than his had ever been.
Indeed, I was no sooner tall enough to swing a sword than he began
teaching me how to use it. In the wood back of the barracks that
night, they learned I was not a man to be fooled with. The tall
sergeant who stood before me saw his sword go flying in the gloom
the second thrust he made at me, and ran for his life, amid roars
of laughter. I had no lack of friends after that day.
It was a year of surprises in the Northern army, and D'ri was the
greatest of all. That long, wiry, sober-faced Yankee conquered the
smartness of the new camp in one decisive and immortal victory. At
first they were disposed to poke fun at him.
"Looks a little tired," said the sergeant of the guard.
"Needs rest--that's what's matter o' him," said the captain.
"Orter be turned out t' grass a leetle while," the adjutant
suggested.
The compliments he failed to hear soon came to him indirectly, and
he had much to put up with. He kept his temper and smoked
thoughtfully, and took it ail in good part. The night after he
came they put him on guard duty--a greenhorn, with no knowledge of
any orders but gee and haw. They told him he should allow nobody
to pass him while on duty, but omitted to mention the countersign.
They instructed him in the serious nature of his task, adding that
his failure to comply with orders would incur the penalty of death.
D'ri looked very sober as he listened. No man ever felt a keener
sense of responsibility. They intended, I think, to cross the
lines and take his gun away and have fun with him, but the
countersign would have interfered with their plans.
D'ri went to his post a little after sundown. The guard was
posted. The sergeant, with his party of six, started back to the
guard-house, but they never got there. They went as far as D'ri.
He stood with his gun raised.
"Come another step," said he, "an' I'll let the moonlight through
ye."
They knew he meant it, and they stood still.
"Come for'ard--one et a time," said D'ri, "Drop yer guns 'n' set
down. Ye look tired."
They did as he commanded, for they could see he meant business, and
they knew he had the right to kill.
Another man came along shortly.
"Halt! Who comes there?" D'ri demanded,
"Friend with the countersign," he replied.
"Can't fool me," said D'ri. "Come up here 'n' set down 'n' mek
yerself t' hum. Drop yer gun fust. Drop it, er I 'll drop you."
He dropped his gun promptly and accepted the invitation to sit
down. This last man had some arguments to offer, but D'ri stood
sternly and made no reply.
At eleven o'clock Captain Hawkins sent out inquiries for the
sergeant of the guard and his relief. He could find nobody who had
seen them since dark. A corporal was also missing. The captain
sent a man to look for them. He got as far as D'ri and sat down.
They waited for him in vain. The captain stood looking into the
darkness and wondering about his men. He conferred with Adjutant
Church. Then he set out with two men to go the rounds. They got
as far as D'ri.
"Halt! Who comes there?" he demanded.
"Grand rounds," was the answer of the captain.
"Lay down yer arms," said D'ri, "an" come up here 'n' set down."
"Haven't time," said the captain, failing at first to grasp the
situation.
"You tek time, er I 'll put a hole 'n yer jacket," said D'ri.
One of the privates turned quickly and ran. D'ri sent a shot after
him, that only grazed a leg, and he kept on. Then D'ri gave all
attention to his new prisoners. They could see no amusement in
dodging bullets; they threw their arms on the side-hill and sat
down with the others.
The captain swore as he submitted,
"Don't rile yerself," said D'ri; "you need rest."
"No, I don't, nuther," said the captain.
"Ye'll hev t' hev it, anyway," said D'ri.
"This beats h--!" the captain answered, with a laugh.
A feeling of alarm began to spread. The adjutant was standing in a
group of men at headquarters soon after midnight. They were ears
under in the mystery. The escaped soldier came running toward them
out of the dark. He was breathing heavily; his leg was bleeding
and sore.
"Wall, what is it?" the adjutant demanded.
"D'ri!" the man gasped, and dropped down exhausted.
"D'ri?" the officer inquired.
"D'ri!" the man repeated. "It's thet air man they call D'ri. He's
roped in everybody thet come his way. They 're all settin' on the
hill up there beside him. Won't let a man move when he gits him."
The adjutant snickered as he spat an oath. He was made of iron,
that man Church.
"Post a guard around him," said he, turning to an officer. "The
dem fool 'd tek the hull garrison ef we did n't. I 'll go 'n' try
t' pull him off his perch."
"He 'll lay ye up," said the returned private, baring his bloody
leg. "Eff ye try t' fool with him ye'll limp. See what he done t'
me."
The adjutant swore again.
"Go t' the hospital," he commanded.
Then he strode away, but he did not return that night.
The moon was shining as the adjutant came, in sight and hailed the
group of prisoners.
"What ye settin' there fer?" he shouted.
"You 'll know 'n a minute," said one of them.
"Halt! Who comes there?" D'ri demanded.
"Friend with--"
"Don't ye purten' t' be my friend," D'ri answered. "'T won't work.
Come up here 'n' set down."
"Stop foolin', man," said the adjutant.
"I ain't a-foolin'."
"He ain't a-foolin'; he means business," said one of the prisoners.
"Don't ye tamper with me. I 'll teach you--" the adjutant
threatened.
"Ain't a-goin' t' tamper with ye a minute," said D'ri. "If ye
don't set down here quick, I 'll put a hole in ye."
"Lunatic! wha' d' ye mean?"
"I mean t' turn ye out t' grass a leetle while," D'ri answered
soberly. "Ye look tired."
The officer made at him, but in a flash D'ri had knocked him down
with his musket. The adjutant rose and, with an oath, joined the
others.
"Dunno but he 'll tek the hull garrison 'fore sunrise," he
muttered. "Let 'em come--might es well hev comp'ny."
A little before daylight a man sick in the hospital explained the
situation. He had given D'ri his orders. They brought him out on
a stretcher. The orders were rescinded, the prisoners released.
Captain Hawkins, hot to his toes with anger, took D'ri to
headquarters. General Brown laughed heartily when he heard the
facts, and told D'ri he was made of the right stuff.
"These greenhorns are not nice to play with," he said. "They're
like some guns--loaded when you don't expect it. We 've had enough
skylarking."
And when the sick man came out of hospital he went to the
guard-house.
After we had shown our mettle the general always had a good word
for D'ri and me, and he put us to the front in every difficult
enterprise.