Part 7 (2/2)
”I think they've had enough,” he said. ”They've certainly lost one man, and maybe two. Slade won't care to risk much more.”
d.i.c.k was glad to go and, following the sergeant's lead, he crawled four or five hundred yards, a most painful but necessary operation. Then they stood up, and made good time through the forest. Both would have been willing to stay and fight it out with Slade and what force he had left, but their mission was calling them, and forward they went.
”Do you think they'll follow us?” asked d.i.c.k.
”I reckon they've had enough. They may try to curve ahead of us and give warning, but the salute from the muzzles of our rifles has been too warm for any more direct pursuit. Besides, we're going to have a summer storm soon, and like as not they'll be hunting shelter.”
d.i.c.k, in the excitement of battle and flight, had not noticed the darkening skies and the rising wind. Clouds, heavy and menacing, already shrouded the whole west. Low thunder was heard far in the distance.
”It's going to be a whopper,” said the sergeant, ”something like those big storms they have out on the plains. We must find shelter somewhere, Mr. Mason, or it will leave us so bedraggled and worn out that for a long time we won't be able to move on.”
d.i.c.k agreed with him entirely, but neither yet knew where the shelter was to be found. They hurried on, looking hopefully for a place. Meanwhile the storm, its van a continual blaze of lightning and roar of thunder, rolled up fast from the southwest. Then the lightning ceased for a while and the skies were almost dark. d.i.c.k knew that the rain would come soon, and, as he looked eagerly for shelter, he saw a clearing in which stood a small building of logs.
”A cornfield, Sergeant,” he exclaimed, ”and that I take it is a crib.”
”A crib that will soon house more than corn,” said the sergeant. ”Two good Union soldiers are about to stop there. It's likely the farmer's house itself is just beyond that line of trees, but he won't be coming out to this crib to-night.”
”Not likely. Too much darkness and rain. Hurry, Sergeant, I can hear already the rush of the rain in the forest.”
They ran across the field, burst open the door of the crib, leaped in and banged the door shut again, just as the van of the rain beat upon it with an angry rush.
Save for a crack or two they had no light, but they stood upon a dry floor covered deep with corn shucks, and heard the rain sweep and roar upon the roof. On one side was a heap of husked corn which they quickly piled against the door in order to hold it before the a.s.saults of the wind, and then they sought warm places among the shucks.
It was a small crib, and the rain drove in at the cracks, but it furnished abundant shelter for its two new guests. d.i.c.k had never been in a finer hotel. He lay warm and dry in a great heap of shucks, and heard the wind and rain beat vainly upon walls and roof and the thunder rumble as it moved off toward the east. He felt to the full the power of contrast.
”Fine in here, isn't it, Sergeant?” he said.
”Fine as silk,” replied the sergeant from his own heap of shucks. ”We played in big luck to find this place, 'cause I think it's going to rain hard all night.”
”Let it. It can't get me. Sergeant, I've always known that corn is our chief staple, but I never knew before that the shucks, which so neatly enclose the grains and cob, were such articles of luxury. I'm lying upon the most magnificent bed in the United States, and it's composed wholly of shucks.”
”It's no finer than mine, Mr. Mason.”
”That's so. Yours is just like mine, and, of course, it's an exception. Now, I wish to say, Sergeant, the rain upon the roof is so soothing that I'm likely to go to sleep before I know it.”
”Go ahead, Mr. Mason, and it's more'n likely I'll follow. All trails will be destroyed by the storm and n.o.body will think of looking here for us to-night.”
Both soon slept soundly, and all through the night the rain beat upon the roof.
CHAPTER VI. A BOLD ATTACK
d.i.c.k was the first to awake. The sergeant had not slept the night before at all, and, despite his enormous endurance, he was overpowered. Having fallen once into slumber he remained there long.
It was not yet morning and the rain was yet falling steadily. Its sweep upon the roof was still so pleasant and soothing that d.i.c.k resolved to go to sleep again, after he had looked about a little. He had grown used to dusk and he could see just a little. The sergeant, buried all but his head among the corn shucks, was breathing deeply and peacefully.
He looked out at one of the cracks, but he saw only rain sweeping by in misty sheets. The road that ran by the field was invisible. He gave devout thanks that this tight little corn crib had put itself in their way. Then he returned to his slumbers, and when he awoke again the sergeant was sitting by one of the cracks smoothing his thick hair with a small comb.
”I always try to keep as neat as I can, Mr. Mason,” he said, apologizing for such weakness. ”It gives you more courage, and if I get killed I want to make a decent body. Here's your breakfast, sir. There's enough left for the two of us, and I've divided it equally.”
Cold ham, bacon and crackers were laid out on clean shucks, and they ate until nothing was left. It was now full daylight, and the rain was dying away to a sprinkle. The farmer might come out at any time to his crib, and they felt that they must be up and away.
They bade farewell to their pleasant shelter of a night, and, after pulling through the deep mud of the field, entered again the forest, which was now soaking wet.
”If Colonel Hertford is near where we reckon he is we ought to meet him by nightfall,” said Sergeant Whitley.
”We're sure to reach him before then,” said d.i.c.k joyously.
”Colonel Hertford is a mighty good man, and if he says he's going to be at a certain place at a certain time I reckon he'll be there, Mr. Mason.”
”And then we'll bring him back and join General Grant. What do you think of our General, Sergeant?”
d.i.c.k spoke with all the freedom then so prevalent in the American armies, where officer and man were often on nearly a common footing, and the sergeant replied with equal freedom.
”General Grant hits and hammers, and I guess that's what war is,” he said. ”On the plains we had a colonel who didn't know much about tactics. He said the only way to put down hostile Indians was to find 'em, and beat 'em, and I guess that plan will work in any war, big or little.”
”I heard before I left the army that Was.h.i.+ngton was getting scared, afraid that he was taking too big a risk here in the heart of the Confederacy, and that his operations might be checked by orders from the capital.”
Sergeant Whitley smiled a wise smile.
”We sergeants learn to know the officers,” he said, ”and I've had the chance to look at General Grant a lot. He doesn't say much, but I guess he's doing a powerful lot of thinking, while he's chawing on the end of his cigar. You notice, Mr. Mason, that he takes risks.”
”He took a big one at s.h.i.+loh, and came mighty near being nipped.”
”But he wasn't nipped after all, and now, if I can judge by the signs, he's going to take another chance here. I wouldn't be surprised if he turned and marched away from the Mississippi, say toward Jackson.”
”But that wouldn't be taking Vicksburg.”
”No, but he might whip an army of the Johnnies coming to relieve Vicksburg, and I've a sneaking idea that the General has another daring thought in mind.”
”What is it, Sergeant?”
”When he turns eastward he'll be away from the telegraph. Maybe he doesn't want to receive any orders from the capital just now.”
”I believe you've hit it, Sergeant. At least I hope so, and anyway we want to reach Colonel Hertford right away.”
Still following the map and also consulting their own judgment, they advanced now at a good rate. But as they came into a more thickly populated country they were compelled to be exceedingly wary. Once a farmer insisted on questioning them, but they threatened him with their rifles and then plunged into a wood, lest he bring a force in pursuit.
In the afternoon, lying among some bushes, they saw a large Confederate force, with four cannon, pa.s.s on the road toward Jackson.
”Colonel Hertford might do them a lot of damage if he could fall on them with his cavalry,” said the sergeant thoughtfully.
”So he could,” said d.i.c.k, ”but I imagine that General Grant wants the colonel to come at once.”
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