Part 4 (1/2)
”Ramsdell, David Ramsdell,” replied the leader of the band.
”That's a lie,” said Sergeant Whitley. ”Your name is Bill Skelly, an' you're a mountaineer from Eastern Kentucky, claimin' to belong first to one side and then to the other as suits you.”
”Who says so?” exclaimed Skelly defiantly.
The sergeant beckoned d.i.c.k, who rode forward a little.
”I do,” said the boy in a loud, clear voice. ”My name is d.i.c.k Mason, and I live at Pendleton in Kentucky. I saw you more than once before the war, and I know that you tried to burn down the house of Colonel Kenton there, and kill him and his friends. I'm on the other side, but I'm not for such things as that.”
Skelly distinctly saw d.i.c.k sitting on his horse in the pa.s.s, and he knew him well. Rage tore at his heart. Although on ”the other side” this boy, too, was a lowlander and in a way a member of that vile Kenton brood. He hated him, too, because he belonged to those who had more of prosperity and education than himself. But Skelly was a man of resource and not a coward.
”You're right,” he cried, ”I'm Bill Skelly, an' we want your horses an' arms. We need 'em in our business. Now, just hop down an' deliver. We're twenty to three.”
”You come forward at your own risk!” cried the sergeant, and Skelly, despite the numbers at his back, wavered. He saw that the man who held the rifle aimed at his heart had nerves of steel, and he did not dare advance knowing that he would be shot at once from the saddle. A victory won by Skelly's men with Skelly dead was no victory at all to Skelly.
The guerilla reined back his horse, and his men retreated with him. But the three knew well that it was no withdrawal. The mountaineers rode among some scrub that grew between the road and the cliff; and Whitley exclaimed to his two comrades: ”Come boys, we must ride for it! It's our business to get back with the dispatches to Colonel Newcomb as soon as possible, an' not let ourselves be delayed by this gang.”
”That is certainly true,” said d.i.c.k. ”Lead on, Mr. Petty, and we'll cross the mountain as fast as we can.”
Red Blaze started at once in a gallop, and d.i.c.k and the sergeant followed swiftly after. But Sergeant Whitley held his c.o.c.ked rifle in hand and he cast many backward glances. A great shout came from Skelly and his band when they saw the three take to flight, and the sergeant's face grew grimmer as the sound reached his ears.
”Keep right in the middle of the road, boys,” he said. ”We can't afford to have our horses slip. I'll hang back just a little and send in a bullet if they come too near. This rifle of mine carries pretty far, farther, I expect, than any of theirs.”
”I'm somethin' on the shoot myself,” said Red Blaze. ”I love peace, but it hurts my feelin's if anybody shoots at me. Them fellers are likely to do it, an' me havin' a rifle in my hands I won't be able to stop the temptation to fire back.”
As he spoke the raiders fired. There was a crackling of rifles, little curls of blue smoke rose in the pa.s.s, and bullets struck on the frozen earth, while two made the snow fly from bushes by the side of the road. The sergeant raised his own rifle, longer of barrel than the average army weapon, and pulled the trigger. He had aimed at Skelly, but the leader swerved, and a man behind him rolled off his horse. The others, although slowing their speed a little, in order to be out of the range of that deadly rifle, continued to come.
The pursuit at first seemed futile to d.i.c.k, because they would soon descend into Townsville's valley, and the raiders could not follow them into the midst of an entire regiment. But presently he saw their plan. The pa.s.s now widened out with a few hundred yards of level s.p.a.ce on either side of the road thickly covered with forest. The branches of the trees were bare, but the undergrowth was so dense that hors.e.m.e.n could be hidden in it. Bands of the raiders darted into the woods both to right and left, and he knew that advancing on a straight line one or the other of the parties expected to catch the fugitives who must follow the curves of the road.
The advantage of the pursuit was soon shown as a shot from the right whistled by them. Red Blaze, quick as lightning, fired at the flash of the rifle.
”I don't know whether I hit him or not,” he said, judicially, ”but the chances are pow'ful good that I did. Still it looks as if they meant to hang on an' likely we kin soon expect shots from the other side, too. Then if they know the country as well as they 'pear to do they'll have us clamped in a vise.”
As he spoke his eyes twinkled cheerfully out of his flaming countenance.
”You certainly seem to take it easy,” said d.i.c.k.
”I take it easy, 'cause the jaws of that vise ain't goin' to clamp down. Bein' somewhat interested in a run for your life you haven't noticed how dark it's gettin' up here on the heights an' how hard it's snowin'. It's comin' down a lot thicker than it was when we crossed the first time.”
It was true. d.i.c.k noticed now that the snow was pouring down, and that all the peaks and ridges were lost in the white whirlwind.
”I told you that I had been a traveler,” said Red Blaze. ”I've been as far as fifty miles from Townsville, and I know all the country in every direction, twenty miles from it, inch by inch. Inside five minutes the snowstorm will be on us full blast, an' we won't be able to see more'n twenty yards away. An' that crowd that's follerin' won't be able to see either. An' me knowin' the ground inch by inch I'll take you straight back to your regiment while they'll get lost in the storm.”
There was room now in the road for the three to ride abreast, and they kept close together. They heard once a shout behind them and saw the flash of a firearm in the white hurricane, but no bullet struck them, and they kept steadily on their course, Red Blaze directing with the sure instinct that comes of long use and habit.
Heavier and heavier grew the snow. There was but little wind now, and it came straight down. It seemed to d.i.c.k that the whole earth was blotted out by the white fall. He and the sergeant resigned themselves completely to the guidance of Red Blaze, who never veered an inch from the right path.
”If I didn't know the way my hoss would,” he said. ”I'd just give him his head an' he'd take us straight to his warm stable in Townsville, an' the two bundles of oats that I mean to give him. I reckon it was pretty smart of me, wasn't it, to order a snowstorm an' have it come just when it was needed.”
Again the cheerful eyes twinkled in the flaming face.
”You're certainly a winner,” said d.i.c.k, ”and you win for us all.”
The snow was now so deep in the pa.s.s that they could not proceed at great speed, but they did the best they could, and, as Red Blaze said, their best, although it might be somewhat slow, was certainly better than that of Skelly and his men. d.i.c.k believed in fact that the raiders had been compelled to abandon the pursuit.
When they reached a lower level, where the snow was far less dense, they stopped and listened. The sergeant's ears had been trained to uncommon keenness by his life on the plains, and he could hear nothing but the sigh of the falling snow. Nor could Petty, who had fine ears himself.
They descended still further, and made another stop. It was snowing here also, but it was merely an ordinary fall, and they could get a long view back up the pa.s.s. They saw nothing there but earth and trees covered with snow. Looking in the other direction they saw the suns.h.i.+ne gleaming for a moment on a roof in Townsville.
”We're all safe now,” said Red Blaze, ”an' we'll be with the soldiers in another half hour. But just you two remember that mebbe the next time I couldn't call up a snowstorm to cover us an' save our lives.”
”Once is enough,” said d.i.c.k, ”and, Mr. Petty, Sergeant Whitley and I want to thank you.”
Mittened hands met buckskinned ones in the strong grasp of friends.h.i.+p, and now, as they rode on, the whole village emerged into sight. There was the long train standing on the track, the smoke rising in spires from the neat houses, and then the figures of human beings.
The fall of snow was light in the valley and as soon as they reached the levels the three proceeded at a gallop. d.i.c.k saw Colonel Newcomb standing by the train, and springing from his horse he handed him the dispatch. The colonel opened it, and as he read d.i.c.k saw the glow appear upon his face.
”Fire up!” he said to Canby, the engineer, who stood near. ”We start at once!”
The troops who were ready and waiting were hurried into the coaches, and the engine whistled for departure.
CHAPTER V. THE SINGER OF THE HILLS
As the engine whistled for the last time d.i.c.k sprang upon a car-step, one hand holding to the rail while with the other he returned the powerful grip of Red Blaze, who with his own unconfined hand grasped the bridles of the three horses, which had served them so well. Petty had received a reward thrust upon him by Colonel Newcomb, but d.i.c.k knew that the mountaineer's chief recompense was the success achieved in the perilous task chosen for him.
”Good-bye, Mr. Mason,” said Red Blaze, ”I'm proud to have knowed you an' the sergeant, an' to have been your comrade in a work for the Union.”
”Without you we should have failed.”
”It jest happened that I knowed the way. It seems to me that there's a heap, a tremenjeous heap, in knowin' the way. It gives you an awful advantage. Now you an' your regiment are goin' down thar in them Kentucky mountains. They're mighty wild, winter's here an' the marchin' will be about as bad as it could be. Them's mostly Pennsylvania men with you, an' they don't know a thing 'bout that thar region. Like as not you'll be walkin' right straight into an ambush, an' that'll be the end of you an' them Pennsylvanians.”
”You're a cheerful prophet, Red Blaze.”
”I meant if you didn't take care of yourselves an' keep a good lookout, which I know, of course, that you're goin' to do. I was jest statin' the other side of the proposition, tellin' what would happen to keerless people, but Colonel Newcomb an' Major Hertford ain't keerless people. Good-bye, Mr. Mason. Mebbe I'll see you ag'in before this war is over.”
”Good-bye, Red Blaze. I truly hope so.”
The train was moving now and with a last powerful grasp of a friendly hand d.i.c.k went into the coach. It was the first in the train. Colonel Newcomb and Major Hertford sat near the head of it, and Warner was just sitting down not far behind them. d.i.c.k took the other half of the seat with the young Vermonter, who said, speaking in a whimsical tone: ”You fill me with envy, d.i.c.k. Why wasn't it my luck to go with you, Sergeant Whitley, and the man they call Red Blaze on that errand and help bring back with you the message of President Lincoln? But I heard what our red friend said to you at the car-step. There's a powerful lot in knowing the way, knowing where you're going, and what's along every inch of the road. My arithmetic tells me that it is often fifty per cent of marching and fighting.”
”I think you are right,” said d.i.c.k.
A little later he was sound asleep in his seat, and at the command of Colonel Newcomb he was not disturbed. His had been a task, taxing to the utmost both body and mind, and, despite his youth and strength, it would take nature some time to replace what had been worn away.
He slept on while the boys in the train talked and laughed. Stern discipline was not yet enforced in either army, nor did Colonel Newcomb consider it necessary here. These lads, so lately from the schools and farms, had won a victory and they had received the thanks of the President. They had a right to talk about it among themselves and a little vocal enthusiasm now might build up courage and spirit for a greater crisis later.