Part 55 (1/2)
The servant found the room empty and the bed unslept in--only the dictionary and Napoleon's Maxims (the Bible was gone) on the table to testify to its late occupancy. Jim, the general's body servant, emerged from an inner room. ”Gineral Jackson? Fo' de Lawd, n.i.g.g.ah! yo' ain't looking ter fin' de gineral heah at dis heah hour? He done clar out 'roun' er bout midnight. Reckon by now he's whipping de Yankees in de Valley!”
In the dark night, several miles from Frederickshall, two riders, one leading, one following, came upon a picket. ”Halt!” There sounded the click of a musket. The two halted.
”Jest two of you? Advance, number one, and give the countersign!”
”I am an officer bearing dispatches--”
”That air not the point! Give the countersign!”
”I have a pa.s.s from General Whiting--”
”This air a Stonewall picket. Ef you've got the word, give it, and ef you haven't got it my hand air getting mighty wobbly on this gun!”
”I am upon an important mission from General Jackson--”
”It air not any more important than my orders air! You get down from that thar horse and mark time!”
”That is not necessary. Call your officer of guard.”
”Thank you for the sug-ges-tion,” said Billy politely. ”And don't you move while I carry it out!” He put his fingers to his lips and whistled shrilly. A sergeant and two men came tumbling out of the darkness. ”What is it, Maydew?”
”It air a man trying to get by without the countersign.”
The first horseman moved a little to one side. ”Come here, sergeant!
Have you got a light? Wait, I will strike a match.”
He struck it, and it flared up, making for an instant a s.p.a.ce of light.
Both the sergeant and Billy saw his face. The sergeant's hand went up to his cap with an involuntary jerk; he fell back from the rein he had been holding. Billy almost dropped his musket. He gasped weakly, then grew burning red. Jackson threw down the match. ”Good! good! I see that I can trust my pickets. What is the young man named?”
”Billy Maydew, sir. Company A, 65th Virginia.”
”Good! good! Obedience to orders is a soldier's first, last, and best lesson! He will do well.” He gathered up the reins. ”There are four men here. You will all forget that you have seen me, sergeant.”
”Yes, sir.”
”Good! Good-night.”
He was gone, followed by the courier. Billy drew an almost sobbing breath. ”I gave him such a d.a.m.ned lot of impudence! He was hiding his voice, and not riding Little Sorrel, or I would have known him.”
The sergeant comforted him. ”Just so you were obeying orders and watching and handling your gun all right, he didn't care! I gather you didn't use any cuss words. He seemed kind of satisfied with you.”
The night was dark, Louisa County roads none of the best. As the c.o.c.ks were crowing, a worthy farmer, living near the road, was awakened by the sound of horses. ”Wonder who's that?--Tired horses--one of them's gone lame. They're stopping here.”
He slipped out of bed and went to the window. Just light enough to see by. ”Who's there?”
”Two Confederate officers on important business. Our horses are tired.
Have you two good fresh ones?”
”If I've got them, I don't lend them to every straggler claiming to be a Confederate officer on important business! You'd better go further.