Part 5 (2/2)
”You're included, d.i.c.k,” he said, ”and I think that yours is the most perilous mission of them all. Pennington, you and Warner can be making ready and I'll tell d.i.c.k what he's to do.”
The Vermonter and the Nebraskan hurried away and Colonel Winchester, taking d.i.c.k by the arm, walked with him beyond the circle of firelight.
”d.i.c.k,” he said gently, ”they asked me to choose the one in my command whom I thought most fit for this duty to be done, and I've selected you, although I'm sending you into a great peril.”
d.i.c.k flushed with pride at the trust. Youth blinded him at present to its perils.
”Thank you, sir,” he said simply.
”You will recall Major Hertford, who was with us in Kentucky before the s.h.i.+loh days?”
”I could not forget him, sir. One of our most gallant officers.”
”You speak truly. He is one of our bravest, and also one of our ablest. I speak of him as Major Hertford, but he has lately been promoted to the rank of colonel, and he is operating toward the East with a large body of cavalry, partly in conjunction with Grierson, who saved us at the ford.”
”And you want me to reach him, sir!”
”You've divined it. He is near Jackson, the capital of this state, and, incidentally, you're to discover as much as you can about Jackson and the Confederate dispositions in that direction. We wish Hertford to join General Grant's advance, which will presently move toward Jackson, and we rely upon you to find him.”
”I'll do it, if he's to be found at all,” said d.i.c.k fervently.
”I knew it, but, d.i.c.k, you're to go in your uniform. I'll not have you executed as a spy in case you're taken. Nor are you to carry any written message to Colonel Hertford. He knows you well, and he'll accept your word at once as truth. Now, this is a ride that will call for woodcraft as well as soldiers.h.i.+p.”
”I start at once, do I not, sir?”
”You do. Warner and Pennington are ready now, and your own horse is waiting for you. Here is a small map which I have reason to believe is accurate, at least fairly so, although few of our men know much of this country. But use it, lad, as best you can.”
It was a sheet of thick fibrous paper about six inches square and, after a hasty glance at it, d.i.c.k folded it up carefully and put it in his pocket. Warner and Pennington appeared then, mounted and armed and ready to tell him good-bye. He and Colonel Winchester watched them a moment or two as they rode away, and then an orderly appeared with d.i.c.k's own horse, a fine bay, saddled, bridled, saddlebags filled with food, pistols in holsters, and a breech-loading rifle strapped to the saddle.
”I've made your equipment the best I could,” said Colonel Winchester, ”and after you start, lad, you must use your own judgment.”
He wrung the hand of the boy, for whom his affection was genuine and deep, and d.i.c.k sprang into the saddle.
”Good-bye, colonel,” he said, ”I thank you for this trust, and I won't fail.”
It was not a boast. It was courage speaking from the heart of youth and, as d.i.c.k rode out of the camp on his good horse, he considered himself equal to any task. He felt an enormous pride because he was chosen for such an important and perilous mission, and he summoned every faculty to meet its hards.h.i.+ps and dangers.
He had the pa.s.sword, and the sentinels wished him good luck. So did the men who were gathering firewood. One, a small, weazened fellow, gave him an envious look.
”Wish I was going riding with you,” he said. ”It's fine in the woods now.”
d.i.c.k laughed through sheer exuberance of spirits.
”Maybe it is and maybe it isn't,” he said. ”Perhaps the forest is filled with rebel sharpshooters.”
”If you ride toward Jackson you're likely to strike Confederate bands.”
”I didn't say where I'm going, but you may be certain I'll keep a watch for those bands wherever I may be.”
The little man was uncommonly strong nevertheless, as he carried on his shoulder a heavy log which he threw down by one of the fires, but d.i.c.k, absorbed in his journey, forgot the desire of the soldier to be riding through the forest too.
He soon left the camp behind. He looked back at it only once, and beheld the luminous glow of the campfires. Then the forest shut it out and he rode on through a region almost abandoned by its people owing to the converging armies. He did not yet look at his map, because he knew that he would soon come into the main road to Jackson. It would be sufficient to determine his course then.
d.i.c.k was not familiar with the farther South, which was a very different region from his own Kentucky. His home was a region of firm land, hills and clear streams, but here the ground lay low, the soil was soft and the waters dark and sluggish. But his instincts as a woodsman were fortified by much youthful training, and he felt that he could find the way.
It gave him now great joy to leave the army and ride away through the deep woods. He was tired of battle and the sight of wounds and death. The noises of the camp were painful to his ear, and in the forest he found peace.
He was absolutely alone in his world, and glad of it. The woods were in all the depth and richness of a Southern spring. Vast ma.s.ses of green foliage billowed away to right and left. Great festoons of moss hung from the oaks, and trailing vines wrapped many of the trees almost to their tops. Wild flowers, pink, yellow and blue, unknown by name to d.i.c.k, bloomed in the open s.p.a.ces.
The air of early morning was crisp with the breath of life. He had come upon a low ridge of hard ground, away from the vast current and low, sodden sh.o.r.es of the Mississippi. Here was a clean atmosphere, and the forest, the forest everywhere. A mockingbird, perched on a bough almost over his head, began to pour forth his liquid song, and from another far away came the same song like an echo. d.i.c.k looked up but he could not see the bird among the branches. Nevertheless he waved his hand toward the place from which the melody came and gave a little trill in reply. Then he said aloud: ”It's a happy omen that you give me. I march away to the sound of innocent music.”
Then he increased his speed a little and rode without stopping until he came to the main road to Jackson. There he examined his map upon which were marked many rivers, creeks, lagoons and bayous, with extensive shaded areas meaning forests. In the southeastern corner of the map was Jackson, close to which he meant to go.
He rode on at a fair pace, keeping an extremely careful watch ahead and on either side of the road. He meant to turn aside soon into the woods, but for the present he thought himself safe in the road-it was not likely that Southern raiders would come so near to the Union camp.
His feeling of peace deepened. He was so far away now that no warlike sound could reach him. Instead the song of the mockingbird pursued him. d.i.c.k, full of youth and life, began to whistle the tune with the songster, and his horse perhaps soothed too by the rhythm broke into the gentle pace which is so easy for the rider.
It was early dawn, and the west was not yet wholly light. The east was full of gold, but the silver lingered on the opposite horizon, and the hot sun of Mississippi did not yet shed its rays over the earth. Instead, a cool breeze blew on d.i.c.k's face, and the quick blood was still leaping in his veins. The road dipped down and he came to a brook, which was clear despite its proximity to the mighty yellow trench of the Mississippi.
He let his horse drink freely, and, while he drank, he surveyed the country as well as he could. On his left he saw through a fringe of woods a field of young corn and showing dimly beyond it a small house. Unbroken forest stretched away on his right, but in field as well as forest there was no sign of a human being.
He studied his map again, noting the great number of water courses, which in the spring season were likely to be at the flood, and, for the first time, he realized the extreme difficulty of his mission. Mississippi was in the very heart of the Confederacy. He could not expect any sympathetic farmers to help him or show him the way. More likely as he advanced toward Jackson he would find the country swarming with the friends of the Confederacy, and to pa.s.s through them would demand the last resource of skill and courage. Perhaps it would have been wiser had he put on citizens clothes and taken his chances as a spy! He did not know that Colonel Winchester would have ordered the disguise had the one who rode on this most perilous mission been any other than he.
The realization brought with it extreme caution. Growing up in a country which was still mainly in forest, not differing much from its primitive condition, save for the absence of Indians and big game, he had learned to be at home in the woods, and now he turned from the path, riding among the trees.
He kept a course some distance from the road, where he was sheltered by the deep foliage and could yet see what was pa.s.sing along the main artery of travel. The ground at times was spongy, making traveling hard, and twice his horse swam deep creeks. He would have turned into the road at these points but the bridges were broken down and he had no other choice.
The morning waned, and the coolness departed. The sun hung overhead, blazing hot, and the air in the forest grew dense and heavy. He would have been glad to turn back into the road, in the hope of finding a breeze in the open s.p.a.ce, but caution still kept him in the forest. He soon saw two men in brown jeans riding mules, farmers perhaps, but carrying rifles on their shoulders, and, drawing his horse behind a big tree, he waited until they pa.s.sed.
They rode on unseeing and he resumed his journey, to stop an hour later and eat cold food, while he permitted his horse to graze in an opening. He had seen only three houses, one a large colonial mansion, with the smoke rising from several chimneys, and the others small log structures inhabited by poor farmers, but n.o.body was at work in the fields.
When he resumed the journey he was thankful that he had kept to the woods as a body of Confederate cavalry, coming out of a path from the north, turned into the main road and advanced at a good pace toward Jackson. They seemed to be in good spirits, as he could hear them talking and laughing, but he was glad when they were out of sight as these Southerners had keen eyes and a pair of them might have discerned him in the brush.
He went deeper into the woods and made another long study of his map. It seemed to him now that he knew every hill and lagoon and road and path, and he resolved to ride a straight course through the forest. There was a point, distinctly marked north of Jackson, where he was to find Hertford if he arrived in time, or to wait for him if he got there ahead of time, and he believed that with the aid of the map he could reach it through the woods.
He rode now by the sun and he saw neither path nor fields. He was in the deep wilderness once more. The mockingbirds sang around him again and through the rifts in the leaves he saw the sailing hawks seeking their prey. Three huge owls sitting in a row on a bough slept undisturbed while he pa.s.sed. He took it as an omen that the wilderness was deserted, and his confidence was strong.
But the firm ground ceased and he rode through a region of swamps. The hoofs of his horse splashed through mud and water. Now and then a snake drew away its slimy length and d.i.c.k shuddered. He could not help it. Snakes, even the harmless, always gave him s.h.i.+vers.
The wilderness now had an evil beauty. The vegetation was almost tropical in its luxuriance, but d.i.c.k liked better the tender green of his more northern state. Great beds of sunflowers nodded in the light breeze. Vast ma.s.ses of vines and creepers pulled down the trees, and on many of the vines deep red roses were blooming. Then came areas of solemn live oaks and gloomy cypresses, where no mockingbirds were singing.
He rode for half a mile along a deep lagoon or bayou, he did not know which, and saw hawks swoop down and draw fish from its dark surface. The whole scene was ugly and cruel, and he was glad when he left it and entered the woods again. Once he thought he heard the mellow voice of a negro singing, but that was the only sound, save the flitting of small wild animals through the undergrowth.
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