Part 44 (2/2)

”By gum! he's knocked out sure!” exclaimed Chador; and, getting down, he placed his hand to Derwiddie's heart. Of course it beat as strongly as ever, and, learning this, Chador ran for some water. As soon as the water was being used, Derwiddie began to groan and opened his eyes.

”Where--where is he?” he moaned.

”He got away,” answered Chador. ”How did it happen?”

”Don't ask me,” moaned Derwiddie. ”Oh, the villain! Where is Messinger?

Why don't you stop him?”

”Messinger is shot in the hand, and the fellow skipped for the wood. I see he took your pistol.”

”That's so.” Derwiddie gave another groan. ”Carry me to the house, will you, Bob? Oh, what an upsetting all around!”

Chador took up the man supposed to be ”knocked out,” and soon had him comfortable on a lounge in the sitting room of the farmhouse. In the meantime, Messinger was having two women folks care for his injured hand. When he felt better, Derwiddie told a long story of Deck's attack on him. ”He was as strong as an ox, I couldn't do anything with him,” he said; and he likewise declared himself altogether too weak to take part in any pursuit, so Chador was despatched to give the alarm to any soldiers or cavalry he might run across in the neighborhood.

As soon as Messinger and Chador fell in the stubble field, Major Lyon turned and continued on his way to the forest. The timber was soon reached, and, without loss of time, he made his way among the trees for a distance of several hundred feet. Deeming himself now safe for the time being, he sat down on a fallen log to catch his breath and consider what would be the next best move to make.

The darkness of night was beginning to fall over the vast battlefield; and under the trees with their dense foliage, but little could be seen.

Deck listened attentively, but the only sounds which reached his ears were the shrill cries of the birds, who were terrorized by the long-continued booming of cannons and sharp cracking of musketry.

Occasionally the roar of a battery could be heard, or a shot from the creek; but these were gradually dying away altogether, for both armies were worn out through fighting and because of forced marches over the uneven ground, and they were willing to leave the remainder of the contest for another day.

Deck felt that his position was very trying, for more reasons than one would readily imagine. In the first place, the wood was large and dense, and wild animals were still to be hunted there,--and they occasionally did a little hunting on their own account. To meet a wildcat or a bear, or even a rattlesnake, would prove far from an agreeable experience.

The wood was large, but it was entirely surrounded by open fields, and the major had every reason to believe that some Confederate troops lay back of them. As a matter of fact, nearly the whole of Breckinridge's command were encamped less than half a mile away.

The distance to Chickamauga Creek was between a quarter and a half of a mile, and how much of shelter lay in that direction was a problem still to be solved. One thing was certain; if he wished to get over the creek and into the Union lines again, the attempt must be made that night, and he must trust to luck to find his way, although, to be sure, the night was fair, and Deck had some knowledge of the stars and how to read the heavens.

Ten minutes pa.s.sed in which time Deck made not the slightest sound. No one had come after him, and he rightfully guessed that he was safe for the time being. He waited a little longer and then placing the pistol in his belt, advanced cautiously through the forest in the direction he calculated the creek must be located.

Presently a gleam of light reached his view, coming from a small hollow.

He crept forward noiselessly until he reached a fringe of bushes bounding the hollow. From this point he beheld half a dozen Confederate soldiers sitting around a small camp-fire, broiling a chicken spitted on a bayonet. They were a merry crowd, and cracked many a joke in a low tone as they waited for the dainty morsel to become done.

Deck did not view this scene long. Instead, he made a detour and continued on his way until he came to a small brook. Here he stopped for a much-needed drink. The brook was almost stationary, but a chip thrown into the water showed him in which way it was flowing, and, taking it for granted that the watercourse emptied itself into the Chickamauga, he decided to follow its fairly straight direction.

He was proceeding along with increased confidence, when suddenly a negro voice sounded upon his ear, coming from a road which crossed the brook.

A colored man was coming along, bringing with him half a dozen cavalry horses that needed watering. The fellow seemed free from care and sang ”Dixie” with rare musical ability.

Not having time to cross the road before the colored man arrived, the major drew back, thinking to make another detour, behind or in front of man and animals. He wished very much that he had one of the horses, but to gain one by force, he felt might lead to discovery and capture.

The horses were very thirsty, and crowded for the brook in a bunch.

There were several black chargers, one of white, and one of gray. As they came closer Deck could not help but notice that they were all in first-cla.s.s condition, quite in contrast to many Confederate mounts he had seen.

”Ceph! By all that's wonderful!”

The words burst from the major's lips ere he had time to realize the injudiciousness of his remarks. He had caught sight of his own precious animal, Ceph, who had been stolen from him while he was up in a tree at the battle between the rocky defile and the swamp in Alabama. For the moment he could scarcely credit his eyesight.

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