Part 22 (1/2)
There must have been all of twenty in the party, and I could distinguish the lieutenant in command, a middle-aged man with light- colored chin beard, seated by himself against the wall of a small shanty of logs, a pipe in his mouth and an open book upon his knee. His men were gathered close about the blazing fire, for the night air was decidedly chill as it swept down the valley; a number were sleeping, a few at cards, while a little group, sitting with their backs toward me.
yet almost within reach of my hand, were idly smoking and discussing the floating rumors of the camp. I managed to make out dimly the figure of a man on horseback beyond the range of flame, and apparently upon the very bank of the stream, when some words spoken by an old gray- bearded sergeant interested me.
”Bob,” he said to the soldier lounging next him, ”whut wus it thet staff officer sed ter ther leftenant? I didn't just git ther straight of it.”
The man, a debonair young fellow, stroked his little black moustache reflectively.
”Ther cove sed as how Cole's division wud be along here afore daylight, an' thet our fellers wud likely be sent out ahead of 'em.”
”Whar be they agoin'?”
”The leftenant asked him, an' the cove sed as it wus a gineral advance to meet ol' Hanc.o.c.k at Minersville.”
”Thet's good 'nough, lads,” chimed in the sergeant, slapping his knee.
”It means a dance down the valley after Early. I'm a guessin' we'll have a bang-up ol' fight 'fore three days more.”
”Pervidin' allers thet ther Johnnies don't skedaddle fust,” commented another, tartly. ”Whut in thunder is ther matter with them hosses?” he asked suddenly, rising and peering over into the bushes beyond the hut, where a noise of squealing and kicking had arisen.
”Oh, the bay filly is probably over the rope agin,” returned the sergeant, lazily. ”Sit down, Sims, an' be easy; you're not on hoss guard ternight.”
”I know thet,” growled the soldier, doubtfully, ”but thet thar kid is no good, an' I don't want my hoss all banged up jist as we 're goin' on campaign 'tain't no sorter way ter hitch 'em anyhow, to a picket rope; ruins more hosses than ther Rebs dew.”
This gave me inspiration, and before the speaker's sullen growl had wholly ceased I was again upon hands and knees, silently groping my way along the bank toward the rear of the hut. It proved to be a tiny structure, containing but a single room--probably a mere fisherman's shack, without windows, but possessing a door at either end. Meeting no opposition I crept within, where I felt somewhat safer from observation, and then peered warily forth into the darkness extending between it and the river. The picket-rope stretched from one corner of the hut, where it seemed to be secured around the end of a projecting log, out into the night, evidently finding its other terminus at a big tree whose spreading top I could dimly perceive shadowed against the sky. Along it were tethered the horses, a few impatiently champing their bits and pounding with their hoofs on the trampled ground, but the majority resting quietly, their heads hanging sleepily down. The one nearest me appeared a finely proportioned animal of a dark color, and was equipped with both saddle and bridle. Of the soldier in charge I could distinguish nothing--doubtless he was lounging on his back, half asleep upon some soft patch of gra.s.s.
My plan was conceived instantly. It was a desperate one, yet it alone seemed in the least feasible. If by chance it succeeded it would place me in saddle once more, and to a cavalryman that means everything; while if it failed--ah, well, it was merely a toss-up of the coin. I turned, impatient for the trial, when it suddenly occurred to me that the deserted hut might contain something I could use to advantage,--a firearm, perhaps, or even a stray box of matches. I felt about me cautiously, creeping along the hard earthen floor until I had nearly reached the opposite entrance. The light from the fire without leaped up, and its glow revealed a saddle, with leather holster attached, hanging to a nail just within the doorway. Moving noiselessly I managed to extract a revolver, but could discover no cartridges.
I was yet fumbling in the holster pocket when the lieutenant rose from his seat without, knocked the ashes from his pipe, yawned sleepily, standing directly between me and the fire, and then, turning sharply, walked slowly into the open door of the hut. I sprang to my feet, or he would certainly have stepped upon me, and before he could realize the situation I had him by the collar, with the cold muzzle of my stolen revolver pressed hard against his cheek.
”A single word or sound, and I fire!” I said sternly.
I have no recollection of ever seeing any man more completely astounded. He gasped like a fish newly landed, and I doubt if he could have made utterance even had he dared.
”Come in a little farther,” I commanded. ”Now look here, Lieutenant, you do exactly as I tell you and you will get out of this affair with a whole skin; otherwise--well, I'm playing this game to the limit.”
”Who in h.e.l.l are you?” he gasped finally, recovering some slight power of expression.
”Never mind, friend. I am simply a man with a gun at your head, and sufficiently desperate to use it if necessary; that's enough for you to know and reflect over. Now answer me: How many men have you mounted this side the ford?”
He glared at me sullenly, and I drew back the hammer with an ominous click, eying him fiercely.
”Well,” I said shortly, ”do you choose to answer, or die?”
”Two.”
”On the other bank?”
”None.”
Standing thus, covering him with the gun, and marking his slightest movement, I thought quickly. Years of danger teach concentrated thought, prompt decision, and I soon chose my course. To kill in battle is soldierly, but, if possible to avoid it, there should be no killing here.