Part 27 (2/2)
That night a band of men, a hundred perhaps, entered the woods along the slopes of the Ma.s.sanuttons. They were the remains of the Invincibles. Throughout those fatal hours they had fought with all the courage and tenacity for which they had been famous so long and so justly. In the heat and confusion of the combat they had been separated from the other portions of Early's army, and, the Northern cavalry driving in between, they had been compelled to take refuge in the forest, under cover of darkness. They might have surrendered with honor, but not one among them thought of such a thing. They had been forced to leave their dead behind them, and of those who had withdrawn about a third were wounded. But, their hurts bandaged by their comrades, they limped on with the rest.
The two colonels were at the head of the sombre little column. It had seemed to Harry Kenton as they left the field that each of them had suddenly grown at least ten years older, but now as they pa.s.sed within the deep shadows they became erect again and their faces grew more youthful. It was a marvelous transformation, but Harry read their secret. All the rest of the Invincibles were lads, or but little more, and they two middle-aged men felt that they were responsible for them. In the face of defeat and irretrievable disaster they recovered their courage, and refused to abandon hope.
”A dark sunset, Hector,” said Colonel Talbot, ”but a bright dawn will come, even yet.”
”Who can doubt it, Leonidas? We won a glorious victory over odds in the morning, but when a million Yankees appeared on the field in the afternoon it was too much.”
”That's always the trouble, Hector. We are never able to finish our victories, because so many of the enemy always come up before the work is done.”
”It's a great pity, Leonidas, that we didn't count the Yankees before the war was started.”
”It's too late now. Don't call up a sore subject, Hector. We've got to take care of these lads of ours, and try to get them across the mountain somehow to Lee. It's useless to seek Early and we couldn't reach him if we tried. He's done for.”
”Alas! It's true, Leonidas! We're through with the valley for this autumn at least, and, since the organization of the army here is broken up, there is nothing for us to do but go to Lee. Harry, is this a high mountain?”
”Not so very high, sir,” replied Harry Kenton, who was just behind him, ”but I don't think we can cross it tonight.”
”Maybe we don't want to do so,” said Colonel Talbot. ”You boys have food in your knapsacks, taken from the Union camps, which we held for a few short and glorious hours. At least we have brought off those valuable trophies, and, when we have climbed higher up the mountain side, we will sup and rest.”
The colonel held himself very erect, and spoke in a firm proud tone. He would inspire a high spirit into the hearts of these boys of his, and in doing so he inspired a great deal of it into his own. He looked back at his column, which still limped bravely after him. It was too dark for him to see the faces of the lads, but he knew that none of them expressed despair.
”That's the way, my brave fellows,” he said. ”I know we'll find a warm and comfortable cove higher up. We'll sleep there, and tomorrow we'll start toward Lee. When we join him we'll whip Grant, come back here and rout Sheridan and then go on and take Was.h.i.+ngton.”
”Where I mean yet, sir, to sleep in the White House with my boots on,” said the irrepressible Happy.
”You are a youth frivolous of speech, Thomas Langdon,” said Colonel Leonidas Talbot gravely, ”but I have always known that beneath this superficiality of manner was a brave and honest heart. I'm glad to see that your courage is so high.”
”Thank you, sir,” said Happy sincerely.
Half way up the mountain they found the dip they wished, sheltered by cedars and pines. Here they rested and ate, and from their covert saw many lights burning in the valley. But they knew they were the lights of the victorious foe, and they would not look that way often.
The October winds were cold, and they had lost their blankets, but the dry leaves lay in heaps, and they raked them up for beds. The lads, worn to the bone, fell asleep, and, after a while, only the two colonels remained awake.
”I do not feel sleepy at all, Hector,” said Colonel Leonidas Talbot.
”I could not possibly sleep, Leonidas,” said Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire.
”Then shall we?”
”Why not?”
Colonel Talbot produced from under his coat a small board, and Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire took from under his own coat a small box.
They put the board upon a broad stone, arranged the chessmen, as they were at the latest interruption, and, as the moonlight came through the dwarfed pines and cedars, the two gray heads bent over the game.
CHAPTER XII
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