Part 75 (2/2)

The parties pa.s.sed, the ranks of the infantry straightened out again on the dark road, the column wound on through the hot, midnight wood. More hoof-beats--another party of cavalry to be let by! They pa.s.sed the infantry in the darkness, pus.h.i.+ng the broken line into the ditch and scrub. In the pitchy blackness an impatient command lost at this juncture its temper. The men swore, an officer called out to the hors.e.m.e.n a savage ”Halt!” The party pressed on. The officer furious, caught a bridle rein. ”Halt, d.a.m.n you! Stop them, men! Now you cavalry have got to learn a thing or two! One is, that the infantry is the important thing in war! It's the aristocracy, d.a.m.n you! The other is that we were on this road first anyhow! Now you just turn out into the woods yourself, and the next time I tell you to halt, d.a.m.n you, halt!”

”This, sir,” said a voice, ”is General Jackson and his staff.”

The officer stammered forth apologies. ”It is all right, sir,” said the voice in the darkness. ”The cavalry must be more careful, but colonel, true aristocrats do not curse and swear.”

An hour later the column halted in open country. A pleasant farmhouse with a cool, gra.s.sy yard surrounded by an ornamental fence, white paling gleaming in the waved lights, flung wide its doors to Stonewall Jackson.

The troops bivouacked around, in field and meadow. A rain came up, a chilly downpour. An aide appeared before the brigade encamped immediately about the farmhouse. ”The general says, sir, that the men may take the rail fence over there, but the regimental officers are to see that under no circ.u.mstances is the fence about Mrs. Wilson's yard to be touched.”

The night pa.s.sed. Officers had had a hard day; they slept perhaps somewhat soundly, wrapped in their oilcloths, in the chilly rain, by the smallest of sputtering camp-fires. The rain stopped at three o'clock; the August dawn came up gloriously with a cool freshness. Reveille sounded. Stonewall Jackson came from the farmhouse, looked about him and then walked across the gra.s.sy yard. A little later five colonels of five regiments found themselves ordered to report to the general commanding the brigade.

”Gentlemen, as you came by did you notice the condition of the ornamental fence about the yard?”

”Not especially, sir.”

”I did, sir. One panel is gone. I suppose the men were tempted. It was a confounded cold rain.”

The brigadier pursed his lips. ”Well, colonel, you heard the order. All of you heard the order. I regret to say, so did I. Dog-gone tiredness and profound slumber are no excuse. You ought--we ought--to have heard them at the palings. General Jackson has ordered you all under arrest.”

”Five of us, sir?”

”Five of you. d.a.m.n it, sir, six of us!”

The five colonels looked at one another and looked at their brigadier.

”What would you advise, sir?”

The brigadier was very red. ”I have sent one of my staff to Mrs. Wilson, gentlemen, to enquire the cost of the entire ornamental fence! I'd advise that we pay, and--if we've got any--pay in gold.”

By eight o'clock the column was in motion--a fair day and a fair country, with all the harvest fields and the deep wooded hills and the August sky. After the rain the roads were just pleasantly wet; dewdrops hung on the corn blades, blackberries were ripening, ox-eye daisies fringed the banks of red earth. The head of the column, coming to a by-road, found awaiting it there an old, plain country woman in a faded sunbonnet and faded check ap.r.o.n. She had a basket on her arm, and she stepped into the middle of the road before Little Sorrel. ”Air this General Jackson?”

Stonewall Jackson checked the horse. The staff and a division general or two stopped likewise. Behind them came on the infantry advance, long and jingling. ”Yes, madam, I am General Jackson. What can I do for you?”

The old woman put down her basket and wiped her hands on her ap.r.o.n.

”General, my son John air in your company. An' I've brought him some socks an' two s.h.i.+rts an' a chicken, an' a pot of apple b.u.t.ter. An' ef you'll call John I'll be obleeged to you, sir.”

A young man in the group of hors.e.m.e.n laughed, but stopped abruptly as Jackson looked round. The latter turned to the old woman with the gentlest blue eyes, and the kindliest slow smile. ”I've got a great many companies, ma'am. They are all along the road from Gordonsville. I don't believe I know your son.”

But the old woman would not have that. ”My lan', general! I reckon you all know John! I reckon John wuz the first man to jine the army. He wuz chopping down the big gum by the crick, an' the news come, an' he chopped on twel the gum wuz down, an' he says, says he, 'I'll cut it up for you, Maw, an' then I'm goin'.' An' he went.--He's about your make an' he has light hair an' eyes an' he wuz wearing b.u.t.ternut--”

”What is his last name, ma'am?”

”His middle name's Henry an' his last name's Simpson.”

”In whose brigade is he, and in what regiment?”

But the old woman shook her head. She knew only that he was in General Jackson's company. ”We never larned to write, John an' me. He wuz powerful good to me--en I reckon he's been in all the battles 'cause he wuz born that way. Some socks, and two s.h.i.+rts an' something to eat--an'

he hez a scar over his eye where a setting hen pecked him when he was little--an' won't you please find him for me, sir?” The old voice quavered toward tears.

Stonewall Jackson dismounted, and looked toward the on-coming column.

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