Part 16 (1/2)
Colonel Winchester took out his watch and held it before him in the faint moonlight. He would not move until the ten minutes exactly had pa.s.sed. Then he closed the watch and gave the signal, but stationed officers along the line to see that the men made as little noise as possible. The long black column moved again through the forest and d.i.c.k, full of excitement was at its head with the colonel and the sergeant.
They reached a slope, crept up it, and then spread out, as they knew that the valley and the enemy were within rifle shot. d.i.c.k, glancing through the bushes, saw the glitter of steel and caught the murmur of voices. He knew that their presence was not yet suspected, and he did not like the idea of firing from ambush upon anybody, but there was no occasion for testing his scruples, as the advance of so many men created noise sufficient to reach the alert ears in the glade.
”Up, men! The enemy!” he heard a voice shout. Colonel Winchester at the same moment ordered his men to fire and charge with the bayonet.
A terrible volley was poured into the valley, and it seemed to d.i.c.k that half of Slade's force went down, but as they rushed forward to finish the task they met a fire that caused many of the Union soldiers to drop. Slade was evidently a man of ability. d.i.c.k saw him springing about and blowing a little silver whistle, which he knew was a call to rally.
But the surprise was too sudden and great. The irregulars, fighting hard, were driven out of the valley and into the woods on the upper side of the glade. Sheltered in the underbrush, they might have made a good defense there, but a sudden tremendous cheer arose, and they were charged in the flank by the Ohio regiment, coming up on the run.
Spurred by emulation the Winchester men also rushed into the underbrush, and those of Slade's men who had not fallen quickly threw down their arms. But they did not catch the leader, nor did they know what had become of him, until d.i.c.k caught sight of a little, weazened figure under an enormous wide-brimmed hat running with three or four others along the mountain-side.
”Slade! Slade!” he cried, pointing, and instantly a score, d.i.c.k and the sergeant among them, were hotfoot after the fugitives. Several shots were fired, but none hit, and the chase lengthened out.
Sergeant Whitley exclaimed to d.i.c.k: ”We catch the pack, but if we don't catch the leader there'll be another pack soon.”
”Right you are! We must have that little man under the big hat!”
d.i.c.k heard panting breaths, and Warner and Pennington drew up by his side.
”Slade's about to escape!” exclaimed d.i.c.k. ”We must get him!”
”I'm running my best,” said Warner. ”Look out!” Slade suddenly faced about and fired a heavy pistol. d.i.c.k had dropped down at Warner's warning cry and the bullet sang over his head. The sergeant fired in return, but the light was too faint, and Slade and the three who were with him ran on unharmed.
The pursuit, conducted with such vigor, soon led to the top of the mountain, and they began the descent of the far side. Several more shots were fired, but they did no damage, and neither side was able to gain. Two of the fugitives turned aside into the woods, but the pursuit kept straight after Slade, and his remaining companion, a slender, youthful figure.
”I think we'll get 'em,” panted the sergeant. As he spoke one of the little mountain rivers so numerous in that region came into view. It was narrow, but deep, and without hesitating an instant the fugitives sprang into it and shot down the stream, swimming with all their strength, and helped by the powerful current.
Slade was in advance, and he was already disappearing in the shadows on the far bank, but his comrade, he of the slender figure, was still in the moonlight, which fell across his face for a moment. A soldier raised his rifle to fire, but d.i.c.k stumbled and fell against him and the bullet went high in the air.
The moment had been long enough for d.i.c.k to recognize Victor Woodville. He did not know how he happened to be with Slade, but he did not intend that he should be shot there in the water, and his impulse was quick enough to save Victor's life. In another moment the young Mississippian was gone also in the shadows, and although several of the Union men swam the river they could discover no trace of either.
”I'm sorry,” said the sergeant as they walked back to the other side of the mountain, ”that they got away.”
”Yes,” said d.i.c.k, ”it was too bad that Slade escaped.”
CHAPTER XIII. THE RIVER OF DEATH
d.i.c.k knew that he had saved young Woodville's life, but his conscience was quite dear. If he had the same chance he would do it over again, but he was sorry they had not caught Slade. He felt no hostility toward the regular soldiers of the Confederacy, but he knew there were guerillas on their side, as well as his own, who would stop at nothing. He remembered Skelly, who, claiming to be a Union partisan, nevertheless robbed and even killed those of either party whenever he felt it safe to do so. Slade was his Southern complement, and he would surely get together a new force as venomous as the old.
But Colonel Winchester and the commander of the Ohio regiment were full of pride in their exploit, as they had a right to be. They had destroyed a swarm of wasps which had been buzzing and stinging almost beyond endurance, and they were still prouder when they received the thanks of General Thomas.
The corps moved forward the next day, and soon the whole army was united under Rosecrans. It was a powerful force, about ninety thousand men, the staunch fighters of the West, veterans of great battles and victories, and to the young officers it appeared invincible. Their feeling that it was marching to another triumph was confirmed by the news that Bragg was retreating.
Yet the two armies were so close to each other that the Northern vanguard skirmished with the Southern rearguard as they pa.s.sed through the mountains. At one point in a gap of the c.u.mberland Mountains the Southerners made a sharp resistance, but they were quickly driven from their position and the Union ma.s.s rolled slowly on. Exultation among the troops increased.
”We'll drive Bragg away down into the South against Grant,” said Ohio to d.i.c.k, ”and we'll crush him between the two arms of the vise. That will finish everything in the West.”
While d.i.c.k was exultant, too, he had certain reservations. He had seen a like confidence carried to disaster in the East, although it did not seem possible that the result here could be similar.
”I don't think they'll keep on retreating forever, Ohio,” he said. ”All our supplies are coming from Nashville, and we are getting farther away from our base every day.”
But Ohio laughed.
”Our chief task is to catch Bragg,” he said. ”They said he was going to occupy Chattanooga and wait for us. He's been in Chattanooga, but he didn't wait for us there. He's left it already and gone on, anxious to reach the Gulf before winter, I suppose.”
The Union army in its turn entered Chattanooga, a little town of which d.i.c.k had seldom heard before, although he greatly admired its situation. The country about it was bold and romantic. It stood in a sharp curve of the great river, the Tennessee. Not far away was the lofty uplift of Lookout Mountain, a half-mile high, and there were long ridges between which creeks or little rivers flowed down to the Tennessee.
One of these streams was the Chickamauga, which in the language of the Cherokee Indians who had once owned this region means ”the river of death.” Why they called it so no one knew, but the name was soon to have a terrible fitness. Chattanooga itself meant in the Cherokee tongue ”the hawk's nest,” and anybody could see the aptness of the term.
While Lookout Mountain was the loftiest summit, some of the other ridges rose almost as high, through the gaps of which the Northern army must pa.s.s if it continued the pursuit of Bragg.
September had now come and the winds were growing crisper in the high country. The feel of autumn was in the air, and the coolness made the marching brisker. The division to which d.i.c.k belonged was advancing slowly. He often saw Thomas, and his admiration for the grave, silent man grew. It was said that Thomas was slow, but that he never made mistakes. Now the rumor was spreading that he had warned Rosecrans to be cautious, that Bragg had a powerful army and when he reached favorable positions, would certainly turn and fight.
Not many were impressed by these reports. They merely said it was ”Pap” Thomas' way of looking at the dark side of things first. Hadn't they driven Bragg through the c.u.mberland Mountains and out of Chattanooga, and now they would soon be on his heels deep down in Georgia. But d.i.c.k, noticing Colonel Winchester's serious face, surmised that he at least shared the opinion of his chief. And when the lad looked up at the great coils and ridges he felt that, in truth, they might go too far. If the Northern men were veterans, so were the Southern, and neither had taken much change of the other at s.h.i.+loh, Perryville and Stone River.
The Winchester regiment was thrown forward as the vanguard of the infantry, and the face of the colonel grew more serious than ever, when the best scouts rode in with reports that the Southern retreat was now very slow. There was news, too, that Slade had a new band much larger than before, and they formed a rear guard of skirmishers which made every moment of a Northern scout's life a moment of danger. The Winchester regiment itself was often fired upon from ambush, and there were vacant places in the ranks.
d.i.c.k did not know whether it was his own intuition or the influence that flowed from the opinions of Thomas and Winchester, but much of his high exultation was abated. He regarded the lofty ridges and the deep gaps with apprehension. It was a difficult country and the Southern leaders must know that the Northern army was extended over a long line, with Thomas holding the left.
His premonitions had ample cause. Bragg as he fell back slowly had gathered new forces. Rosecrans did not yet know it, but the army before him was the most powerful that the South ever a.s.sembled in the West. Polk and Cleburne and Breckinridge and Forrest and Fighting Joe Wheeler and a whole long roll of famous Southern generals were there. Nor had the vigilant eyes of the Confederacy in the East failed to note the situation.
Just as the armies were coming into touch a division of the Army of Northern Virginia was pa.s.sing by train over the mountains. It was led by a thick-bearded, powerful man, no less a general than the renowned Longstreet, sent to help Bragg. The veterans of the Army of Northern Virginia would swell Bragg's ranks, and the great army, turning a sanguine face northward, was eager for Rosecrans to come on. The Southern force would number more than ninety thousand men, more numerous than ever before or afterward in the West.
It was now late in September, the eve of the eighteenth, and d.i.c.k and his comrades lay near the little creek with the rhythmical name, Chickamauga. It was the very night that a portion of the Army of Northern Virginia had arrived in Bragg's camp. The preceding days had been full of detached fighting, and the night had come heavy with omens and presages. The least intelligent knew now that Bragg had stopped, but they did not know that Longstreet was to be with him.
d.i.c.k and his comrades sat by a smothered fire, and the vast tangle of mountains and pa.s.ses, of valleys and streams looked sinister to them. There had been skirmis.h.i.+ng throughout the day, and as the darkness closed down they still heard occasional rifle shots on the slopes and ridges.
”Don't these mountains make you think of your native Vermont, George?” asked d.i.c.k.
”In a way, yes,” replied Warner, ”but my hills are not bristling with steel as these are.”
”No, you New Englanders are fortunate. The war will never be carried on on your soil. You shed your blood, but, after all, the states that are trodden under foot by the armies suffer most.”
”There are lights winking on the mountains again,” said Pennington.
”Let 'em wink,” said d.i.c.k. ”Their signals can't amount to much now. We know that Bragg is before us, and a great battle can't be delayed long. Fellows, I'm not so sure about the result.”
”Come! Come, d.i.c.k!” said Warner. ”It's not often you're downhearted. What's struck you?”
”Nothing, George, but, between you and me and the gate post, I wish that our old 'Pap' Thomas commanded all the army, instead of the left merely. I've learned a few things to-day. The enemy is spreading out, trying to enfold us on both wings.”
”What of it?”
”It means that they are sanguine of victory, and they want to stand between us and Chattanooga, so they can cut off our retreat, after we're beaten, as they think we surely will be. But their main force is not far from us now, so a scout told me. It's ma.s.sed heavily along the right bank of the Chickamauga.”