Part 6 (1/2)

”But it is so. The bullets were not aimed well enough.” d.i.c.k felt an emotion that he did not wholly understand.

”Madame,” he said, ”I shall take the rifle, and again say good-by.

As before, I wish you well.”

She resumed her seat in the chair and took up the knitting. But she did not repeat her wish that d.i.c.k and all his men be shot before night. He went out in silence, and gently closed the door behind him. In the hall he met Sergeant Whitley and said:

”We needn't look any farther. I know now that the man has gone and we shall not be fired upon again from this house.”

The sergeant glanced at the rifle d.i.c.k carried and made no comment.

But when they were riding away, he said: ”And so that was it?”

”Yes, that was it.”

CHAPTER III

OVER THE HILLS

d.i.c.k and his little troop rode on through the silent country, and they were so watchful and thorough that they protected fully the right flank of the marching column. One or two shots were fired, but the reports came from such distant points that he knew the bullets had fallen short.

But while he beat up the forests and fields for sharpshooters he was very thoughtful. He had a mind that looked far ahead, even in youth, and the incident at the house weighed upon him. He foresaw the coming triumph of the North and of the Union, a triumph won after many great disasters, but he remembered what an old man at a blacksmith shop in Tennessee had told him and his comrades before the Battle of Stone River. Whatever happened, however badly the South might be defeated, the Southern soil would still be held by Southern people, and their bitterness would be intense for many a year to come. The victor forgives easily, the vanquished cannot forget. His imagination was active and vivid, often attaining truths that logic and reason do not reach, and he could understand what had happened at the house, where the ordinary mind would have been left wondering.

It is likely also that the sergeant had a perception of it, though not as sharp and clear as d.i.c.k's.

”When the war is over and the soldiers all go back, that is them that's livin',” he said, ”it won't be them that fought that'll keep the grudge. It's the women who've lost their own that'll hate longest.”

”I think what you say is true, Whitley,” said d.i.c.k, ”but let's not talk about it any more. It hurts.”

”Me too,” said the sergeant. ”But don't you like this country that we're ridin' through, Mr. Mason?”

”Yes, it's fine, but most of it has been cropped too hard. I remember reading somewhere that George Was.h.i.+ngton himself said, away back in the last century, that slave labor, so careless and reckless, was ruining the soil of Virginia.”

”Likely that's true, sir, but it won't have much chance to keep on ruinin' it. Wouldn't you say, sir, that was a Johnny on his horse up there?”

”I can soon tell you,” said d.i.c.k, unslinging his gla.s.ses.

On their right was a hill towering above the rest. The slopes were wooded densely, but the crest was quite bare. Upon it sat a solitary figure on horseback, evidently watching the marching column.

d.i.c.k put his gla.s.ses to his eyes. The hill and the lone sentinel enlarged suddenly and came nearer. The pulses in his temples beat hard. Although he could not see the watcher's face clearly, because he too was using gla.s.ses, he knew him instantly. He would have known that heroic figure and the set of the shoulders and head anywhere. He felt astonishment at first, but it pa.s.sed quickly. It was likely that they should meet again some time or other, since the field of battle had narrowed so much.

Sergeant Whitley, who invariably saw everything, had seen d.i.c.k's slight start.

”Someone you know, sir?” he asked.

”Yes, sergeant. It's my cousin, Harry Kenton. You've heard me talk of him often. A finer and braver and stronger fellow never lived. He's using gla.s.ses too and I've no doubt he's recognized me.”

d.i.c.k suddenly waved his gla.s.ses aloft, and Harry Kenton replied in like manner.

”He sees and knows me!” cried d.i.c.k.

But the sergeant was very sober. He foresaw that these youths, bound by such ties of blood and affection, might come into battle against each other. The same thought was in d.i.c.k's mind, despite his pleasure at the distant view of Harry.