Part 22 (1/2)
”You see we have some men with us who are not in uniform, do you not?” said he. ”Well, they are the recruits we have picked up since we have been out on this scout. They have been terribly persecuted by the Union men in their settlement, and want us to stop on our way back long enough to burn those Union men out. If we do, it will delay us a day or two; if we don't, and keep lumbering right along, we shall be with the rest of the boys in less than forty-eight hours.”
This was what Tom wanted to know; and he decided that when the squad reached the old post-rode and turned up toward the place at which the regiment was stationed, he would go south toward Springfield, and so avoid the risk of meeting d.i.c.k Graham.
”I suppose you know your own business best,” said the lieutenant, when Tom announced his decision. ”But I'll never go piking off through the country alone so long as I know what I am doing. There's too much danger in it. When you get ready to go into the service, remember that our regiment is one of the very best, and that we are ready to welcome all volunteers with open arms.”
The two boys slept under the same blankets that night, but the talking they did was intended for the benefit for those who were lying near them, rather than for each other. Tom sent numberless messages to d.i.c.k Graham, and wanted Rodney to be sure and tell him that he (Tom) would be a member of his company before its next battle with the Yankees; all of which Rodney promised to bear in mind. The squad broke their fast next morning on provisions which they had ”foraged” from the Union men whose buildings they had destroyed two nights before, and at eight o'clock arrived at the old post-road where the Barrington boys were to take leave of each other, to meet again perhaps under hostile flags and with deadly weapons in their hands. But there was one thing about it: They might be enemies in name, but they never would in spirit.
”There goes one of the bravest and best fellows that ever lived,” said Rodney, facing about in his saddle to take a last look at his friend who rode away with a heavy heart.
”Don't be so solemn over it,” said the captain. ”Didn't he say he would come back as soon as he could?”
Yes, that was what Tom said; but the trouble was, that when he came again he might come in such a way that Rodney could not shake hands with him.
CHAPTER XIV.
”HURRAH FOR BULL RUN!”
Having decided that he would waste too much time if he turned from his course to punish the Union men who had persecuted his recruits, the captain ”kept lumbering right along,” and on the afternoon of the next day came within sight of the town in which his regiment had been encamped when he left it to start on his scout; but there was not a tent, a wagon or a soldier to be seen about the place now, and a citizen who came out to meet him, brought the information that the regiment had moved South to join Rains and Jackson, who were marching toward Neosho, a short distance from Springfield: and at the same time he gave the captain a written order from his colonel to join his command with all haste.
”If we had known this before, we might have kept company with your friend Tom,” said the captain, as he faced the squad about after a fas.h.i.+on of his own and started them on the back track. ”Both sides seemed to be concentrating in the southwestern part of the State, and there's where the battle-ground is going to be.”
”Not all the time, I hope,” said Rodney.
”Of course not. We'll drive the enemy back on St. Louis, and wind up by taking that city. General Pillow will march up from New Madrid to co-operate with us, and perhaps he will stop on the way to take Cairo. I hope he will, to pay those Illinois chaps for robbing the St. Louis armory.”
This was a very pretty programme but the captain thought it could be easily carried out, and the very next day he heard a piece of news which caused him to make several additions to it. As the squad was moving past a plantation house an excited man, who was in too great a hurry to get his hat, rushed down to the gate flouris.h.i.+ng a paper over his head and shouted, at the top of his voice:
”Hurrah for Jeff Davis! Hurrah for Johnston! Hurrah for Bull Run and all the rest of 'em!”
”What's up?” inquired the captain, reining in his horse.
”Here's something that one of Price's men slung at me yesterday while he was riding along,” replied the planter, opening the gate and placing the paper in the officer's eager palm. ”Aint we walking over 'em roughshod though, and didn't I say all the while that we were bound to do it? A Northern mechanic has got no business alongside a Southern gentleman.”
”Have we had a fight?” asked the captain. ”I wonder if my regiment was in it.”
”No, I don't reckon it was,” answered the man, with a laugh. ”You see it happened out in Virginny, a few miles from Was.h.i.+ngton. I wish I might get a later paper'n that, for I calculate to read in it that our boys are in Was.h.i.+ngton dictating-”
”Hey-youp!” yelled the captain, who began to understand the matter now.
”Price's men whooped and yelled worse'n that when they went by yesterday,” said the man, jumping up and knocking his heels together like a boy who had just been turned loose from school. ”That's Davis's dispatch right there. He went out from Richmond to watch the fight, and got there just in time to see the Yankees running.”
The officer, who was worked up to such a pitch of excitement that the paper rustled in his trembling hands, glanced over the black headlines to which the planter directed his attention, and then read the dispatch aloud so that his men could hear it. It ran as follows:
”Night has closed upon a hard-fought field. Our forces were victorious. The battle was fought mainly on our left. Our forces were fifteen thousand; that of the enemy estimated at thirty-five thousand.”
”And when the Yankees got a-going,” chimed in the planter, clapping his hands and swaying his body back and forth after the manner of a negro who had been carried away by some sudden enthusiasm, ”they never stopped. It was such a stampede that their officers couldn't do nothing with 'em. The soldiers who were running away from the battle met the civilians who were riding out from Was.h.i.+ngton to see it, and the two living streams of humanity, one going one way and t'other going t'other way, got all mixed up together; and all the while there were our batteries playing onto 'em and our cavalry riding through 'em and sabering first one and then another, till-Hey-youp! I'll be doggone if I can seem to get it through my head, although I have read it more'n a hundred times.”
This astounding intelligence almost took away the breath of the men who listened to it. Of course they had known all the while that whipping the North was going to be as easy as falling off a log, but to have their opinions confirmed in this unexpected way almost overwhelmed them. They knew it was bound to come, but they hadn't looked for it so soon. They gazed at one another in silence for a moment or two, and then the shout they set up would have done credit to a larger squad than theirs. The planter, who really acted as though he had taken leave of his senses, joined in, laughing and shaking his head and slapping his knees in a way that set Rodney Gray in a roar. It was a long time before the captain could bring his squad to ”attention.”