Part 12 (2/2)

”I regret that you cannot speak to him either. He is as far up the c.u.mberland as General Floyd. Both departed in the night, and I am left in command of the Southern army at Fort Donelson. You can state your demands to me, Colonel Winchester.”

d.i.c.k saw that the brave Kentuckian was struggling to hide his chagrin, and he had much sympathy for him. It was in truth a hard task that Floyd and Pillow had left for Buckner. They had allowed themselves to be trapped and they had thrown upon him the burden of surrendering. But Buckner proceeded with the negotiations. Presently he noticed d.i.c.k.

”Good morning, Richard,” he said. ”It seems that in this case, at least, you have chosen the side of the victors.”

”Fortune has happened to be on our side, general,” said d.i.c.k respectfully. ”Could you tell me, sir, if my uncle, Colonel Kenton, is unhurt?”

”He was, when he was last with us,” replied General Buckner, kindly. ”Colonel Kenton went out last night with Forrest's cavalry. He will not be a prisoner.”

”I am glad of that,” said the boy.

And he was truly glad. He knew that it would hurt Colonel Kenton's pride terribly to become a prisoner, and although they were now on opposite sides, he loved and respected his uncle.

The negotiations were completed and before night the garrison of Donelson, all except three thousand who had escaped in the night with Floyd and Pillow and Forrest, laid down their arms. The answer to Bull Run was complete. Fifteen thousand men, sixty-five cannon, and seventeen thousand rifles and muskets were surrendered to General Grant. The bulldog in the silent westerner had triumphed. With only a last chance left to him he had turned defeat into complete victory, and had dealt a stunning blow to the Southern Confederacy, which was never able like the North to fill up its depleted ranks with fresh men.

Time alone could reveal to many the deadly nature of this blow, but d.i.c.k, who had foresight and imagination, understood it now at least in part. As he saw the hungry Southern boys sharing the food of their late enemies his mind traveled over the long Southern line. Thomas had beaten it in Eastern Kentucky, Grant had dealt it a far more crus.h.i.+ng blow here in Western Kentucky, but Albert Sidney Johnston, the most formidable foe of all, yet remained in the center. He was a veteran general with a great reputation. Nay, more, it was said by the officers who knew him that he was a man of genius. d.i.c.k surmised that Johnston, after the stunning blow of Donelson, would be compelled to fall back from Tennessee, but he did not doubt that he would return again.

d.i.c.k soon saw that all his surmises were correct. The news of Donelson produced for a little while a sort of paralysis at Richmond, and when it reached Nashville, where the army of Johnston was gathering, it was at first unbelievable. It produced so much excitement and confusion that a small brigade sent to the relief of Donelson was not called back, and marched blindly into the little town of Dover, where it found itself surrounded by the whole triumphant Union army, and was compelled to surrender without a fight.

Panic swept through Nashville. Everybody knew that Johnston would be compelled to fall back from the c.u.mberland River, upon the banks of which the capital of Tennessee stood. Foote and his gunboats would come steaming up the stream into the very heart of the city. Rumor magnified the number and size of his boats. Again the Southern leaders felt that the rivers were always a hostile coil girdling them about, and lamented their own lack of a naval arm.

Floyd had drawn off in the night from Donelson his own special command of Virginians and when he arrived at Nashville with full news of the defeat at the fortress, and the agreement to surrender, the panic increased. Many had striven to believe that the reports were untrue, but now there could be no doubt.

And the panic gained a second impetus when the generals set fire to the suspension bridge over the river and the docks along its banks. The inhabitants saw the signal of doom in the sheets of flame that rolled up, and all those who had taken a leading part in the Southern cause prepared in haste to leave with Johnston's army. The roads were choked with vehicles and fleeing people. The State Legislature, which was then in session, departed bodily with all the records and archives.

But d.i.c.k, after the first hours of triumph, felt relaxed and depressed. After all, the victory was over their own people, and five thousand of the farmer lads, North and South, had been killed or wounded. But this feeling did not last long, as on the very evening of victory he was summoned to action. Action, with him, always made the blood leap and hope rise. It was his own regimental chief, Arthur Winchester, who called him, and who told him to make ready for an instant departure from Donelson.

”You are to be a cavalryman for a while, d.i.c.k,” said Colonel Winchester. ”So much has happened recently that we scarcely know how we stand. Above all, we do not know how the remaining Southern forces are disposed, and I have been chosen to lead a troop toward Nashville and see. You, Warner, Pennington, that very capable sergeant, Whitley, and others whom you know are to go with me. My force will number about three hundred and the horses are already waiting on the other side.”

They were carried over the river on one of the boats, and the little company, mounting, prepared to ride into the dark woods. But before they disappeared, d.i.c.k looked back and saw many lights gleaming in captured Donelson. Once more the magnitude of Grant's victory impressed him. Certainly he had struck a paralyzing blow at the Southern army in the west.

But the ride in the dark over a wild and thinly-settled country soon occupied d.i.c.k's whole attention. He was on one side of Colonel Winchester and Warner was on the other. Then the others came four abreast. At first there was some disposition to talk, but it was checked sharply by the leader, and after a while the disposition itself was lacking.

Colonel Winchester was a daring horseman, and d.i.c.k soon realized that it would be no light task to follow where he led. Evidently he knew the country, as he rode with certainty over the worst roads that d.i.c.k had ever seen. They were deep in mud which froze at night, but not solidly enough to keep the feet of the horses from crus.h.i.+ng through, making a crackle as they went down and a loud, sticky sigh as they came out. All were spattered with mud, which froze upon them, but they were so much inured to hards.h.i.+p now that they paid no attention to it.

But this rough riding soon showed so much effect upon the horses that Colonel Winchester led aside into the woods and fields, keeping parallel with the road. Now and then they stopped to pull down fences, but they still made good speed. Twice they saw at some distance cabins with the smoke yet rising from the chimneys, but the colonel did not stop to ask any questions. Those he thought could be asked better further on.

Twice they crossed creeks. One the horses could wade, but the other was so deep that they were compelled to swim. On the further bank of the second they stopped a while to rest the horses and to count the men to see that no straggler had dropped away in the darkness. Then they sprang into the saddle again and rode on as before through a country that seemed to be abandoned.

There was a certain thrill and exhilaration in their daring ride. The smoke and odors of the battle about Donelson were blown away. The dead and the wounded, the grewsome price even of victory, no longer lay before their eyes, and the cold air rus.h.i.+ng past freshened their blood and gave it a new sparkle. Every one in the little column knew that danger was plentiful about them, but there was pleasure in action in the open.

Their general direction was Nashville, and now they came into a country, richer, better cultivated, and peopled more thickly. Toward night they saw on a gentle hill in a great lawn and surrounded by fine trees a large red brick house, with green shutters and portico supported by white pillars. Smoke rose from two chimneys. Colonel Winchester halted his troop and examined the house from a distance for a little while.

”This is the home of wealthy people,” he said at last to d.i.c.k, ”and we may obtain some information here. At least we should try it.”

d.i.c.k had his doubts, but he said nothing.

”You, Mr. Pennington, Mr. Warner and Sergeant Whitley, dismount with me,” continued the colonel, ”and we'll try the house.”

He bade his troop remain in the road under the command of the officer next in rank, and he, with those whom he had chosen, opened the lawn gate. A brick walk led to the portico and they strolled along it, their spurs jingling. Although the smoke still rose from the chimneys no door opened to them as they stepped into the portico. All the green shutters were closed tightly.

”I think they saw us in the road,” said d.i.c.k, ”and this is a house of staunch Southern sympathizers. That is why they don't open to us.”

”Beat on the door with the hilt of your sword, sergeant,” said the colonel to Whitley. ”They're bound to answer in time.”

The sergeant beat steadily and insistently. Yet he was forced to continue it five or six minutes before it was thrown open. Then a tall old woman with a dignified, stern face and white hair, drawn back from high brows, stood before them. But d.i.c.k's quick eyes saw in the dusk of the room behind her a girl of seventeen or eighteen.

”What do you want?” asked the woman in a tone of ice. ”I see that you are Yankee soldiers, and if you intend to rob the house there is no one here to oppose you. Its sole occupants are myself, my granddaughter, and two colored women, our servants. But I tell you, before you begin, that all our silver has been s.h.i.+pped to Nashville.”

Colonel Winchester flushed a deep crimson, and bit his lips savagely.

”Madame,” he said, ”we are not robbers and plunderers. These are regular soldiers belonging to General Grant's army.”

”Does it make any difference? Your armies come to ravage and destroy the South.”

Colonel Winchester flushed again but, remembering his self-control, he said politely: ”Madame, I hope that our actions will prove to you that we have been maligned. We have not come here to rob you or disturb you in any manner. We merely wished to inquire of you if you had seen any other Southern armed forces in this vicinity.”

”And do you think, sir,” she replied in the same uncompromising tones, ”if I had seen them that I would tell you anything about it?”

”No, Madame,” replied the Colonel bowing, ”whatever I may have thought before I entered your portico I do not think so now.”

”Then it gives me pleasure to bid you good evening, sir,” she said, and shut the door in his face.

Colonel Winchester laughed rather sorely.

”She had rather the better of me,” he said, ”but we can't make war on women. Come on, lads, we'll ride ahead, and camp under the trees. It's easy to obtain plenty of fuel for fires.”

”The darkness is coming fast,” said d.i.c.k, ”and it is going to be very cold, as usual.”

In a half hour the day was fully gone, and, as he had foretold, the night was sharp with chill, setting every man to s.h.i.+vering. They turned aside into an oak grove and pitched their camp. It was never hard to obtain fuel, as the whole area of the great civil war was largely in forest, and the soldiers dragged up fallen brushwood in abundance. Then the fires sprang up and created a wide circle of light and cheerfulness.

d.i.c.k joined zealously in the task of finding firewood and his search took him somewhat further than the others. He pa.s.sed all the way through the belt of forest, and noticed fields beyond. He was about to turn back when he heard a faint, but regular sound. Experience told him that it was the beat of a horse's hoofs and he knew that some distance away a road must lead between the fields.

He walked a hundred yards further, and climbing upon a fence waited. From his perch he could see the road about two hundred yards beyond him, and the hoof beats were rapidly growing louder. Some one was riding hard and fast.

In a minute the horseman or rather horsewoman, came into view. There was enough light for d.i.c.k to see the slender figure of a young girl mounted on a great bay horse. She was wrapped in a heavy cloak, but her head was bare, and her long dark hair streamed almost straight out behind her, so great was the speed at which she rode.

She struck the horse occasionally with a small riding whip, but he was already going like a racer. d.i.c.k remembered the slim figure of a girl, and it occurred to him suddenly that this was she whom he had seen in the dusk of the room behind her grandmother. He wondered why she was riding so fast, alone and in the winter night, and then he admitted with a thrill of admiration that he had never seen any one ride better. The hoof beats rose, died away and then horse and girl were gone in the darkness. d.i.c.k climbed down from the fence and shook himself. Was it real or merely fancy, the product of a brain excited by so much siege and battle?

He picked up a big dead bough in the wood, dragged it back to the camp and threw it on one of the fires.

”What are you looking so grave about, d.i.c.k?” asked Warner.

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