Part 25 (1/2)

”Suit yourself,” answered the other; ”you know the country. I'll go down an' get Phipps out if n.o.body else has. Then I'll be back along up this way and tell the boys that you're here.”

”You say this Yank's a young man?”

”'Bout twenty, I'd say.”

”How many of them were there that stole the train?”

”The stories are all different. Some say five and some say fifty. Can't tell. Well, I'll see you later.”

Tom swung over the edge of the embankment and dropped. He struck the loose gravel and rolled down with the gravel sliding after him in a great wave. It seemed incredible that the men should not hear him, but he trusted to the noise of the river and ran down along the water's edge. Presently he came to a large rock projecting from the embankment and dodged behind it. There he sank down to get breath for his next move.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

FIGHTING THE RIVER

Tom began to explore the rock behind which he had taken refuge. It projected several feet from the side of the embankment, and the wash of the water in former days when the river was even higher than at present had carried away the dirt on the down-stream side, forming a small pocket. In the darkness, he ran his hands over the wall of it. There was room enough for him there if he sat with his knees drawn up under his chin. He squeezed himself in, and fell to considering what he had better do next.

He decided that it would be hopeless to try swimming the river at this point, after his night-long struggle through the mud. He was too tired, and the current would simply toss him about. On the other hand, it was too dangerously near dawn to attempt going farther down the river in hopes of finding a place where the current was not so strong. If he spent the day here would he be stronger when night came again after having gone twenty-four hours without food? But with the next night clear before him, there was at least a slight chance that he might find some means of getting across. It wasn't quite clear in his mind what such means might be. However, luck had been with him in escaping from the hotel. Poor Wilson and Shadrack! They were in Chattanooga by this time. At any event, swimming was out of the question for the present. Sleep was the most important thing. The thoughts which had been hammering through his head were lost as he dozed off. Then, a few minutes later, he awoke with a start. Every muscle in his body was cramped and aching. He shook himself awake, felt around until he came to a large flat stone. With this he sc.r.a.ped away several feet of dirt at the side of the pocket. Then he climbed in again, braced himself against the wall and kicked more dirt loose with his heels. Alternating with the rock and his heels, he made the pocket long enough so that he could stretch out comfortably. Then he sc.r.a.ped away the back wall, so that there was no danger of being seen from above, and piled rocks along the edge of the pocket, so that he could not easily be seen from the opposite bank. That completed, he crawled in and scooped out dirt with his hands, to make the bottom of the pocket conform to his body. Then, with a sigh which expressed his weariness and comfort in a breath, he plunged into sleep.

It was noon when he awoke. He raised himself on one elbow and glanced out over the rocks at the river. His joints protested at every move, and his muscles seemed bruised and hurt. He was thoroughly chilled, and yet his head felt hot.

”Hmmm, a little fever,” he said. He stripped off some of his clothes and began chafing his body; then he lay back and flexed his arms and legs in the scant room of the pocket. After a half-hour of this he could feel the blood flowing through him again.

From the pocket, he could see across the river and down, where the embankment sloped towards Chattanooga. He peered cautiously out, trying to decide what he should do when night fell; but there seemed to be no choice except to swim, for he could see nothing that gave him an atom of encouragement. And the swift current of the river swept on as far as his eyes could reach.

He settled himself again on the floor of his hiding-place. Hunger was gnawing at him, and which was more difficult to bear, he was thirsty. He shut his eyes and lay quietly. After a few minutes he sat up, and fell to rubbing his body again. Towards the middle of the afternoon he drifted off into an uneasy, troubled sleep. People-friends from home, his companions on the raid-approached him in his dreams, and promised to bring water; then they went away, talking and laughing, and forgot to come back. Again and again he asked them, and always they promised. He awakened himself by crying, ”Please! Please!”

His body ached and throbbed; it was painful to move. His throat was parched, and his tongue felt swollen. After he had pounded and rubbed his muscles again, he sat up and looked out. The sun was setting, and the river appeared to be a long s.h.i.+mmering ribbon of gold. He let his eyes wander along it slowly. A large oblong thing, which rested near the water's edge about three-quarters of a mile below him, caught his attention. At first it seemed a mere trick of the shadows; then, as he watched it more closely, he wondered if it could be a flatboat, drawn out of the water. He sat gazing at it anxiously. The minutes pa.s.sed and he forgot that he was hungry and thirsty.

”It's a flatboat or a raft,” he said to himself.

Finally the sun set, and Tom waited in an agony of suspense while the dusk slowly turned into darkness. As the time for him to move approached, his thirst became almost unbearable. The rush of the water, which was the only noise he could hear, was tantalizing, maddening. His body felt as though it were being consumed by a slow fire, which mounted steadily to his head, sickening him and making him dizzy. He wanted to kick the stones away, spring from his hiding-place and rush down to the water's edge, plunge his face into the cool water and take great gulps of it.... Yet he sat quietly, his hands clenched, forcing his mind to think of other things. Across the river, the embankment became a soft blue-green blur, which turned darker and darker. The ripples of the river caught the last rays of light, flas.h.i.+ng as though the surface were in flames.

”I'll get out,” he said to himself, ”when I can't see the water.” Then, grimly: ”And not before.” He looked down the river again towards the oblong object which had caught his attention, but it was lost in the night.

”Must be careful when I go to drink,” he muttered. ”Just a sip at first.

Then another sip in a minute or so.”

He began to take the stones away from the opening of the pocket; then he swung his feet out and sat on the edge. He glanced up: there was no moon, and the sky was filled with heavy clouds. The rim of the embankment where the guards had spent the day watching for him was scarcely distinguishable. He got to his feet and leaned weakly against the rock.

”Whew! Weak as a baby! Water'll make me feel better.” The effort of rising had made him dizzy, and his legs were like soft rubber beneath him. His knees seemed to bend in all directions under his weight. ”Better crawl,” he muttered; then he sank to his hands and knees. He found himself laughing as he made his way to the water, and it struck him suddenly that he was delirious. That realization had the effect of clearing his mind instantly. ”Careful about drinking,” he cautioned himself. ”Just one sip.”

Water! He put his face in it, took a mouthful and let some of it trickle down his throat. He spat the rest out and pushed back from the stream. Presently he was at the edge again, bathing his face and taking little sips. Dizziness came over him like a great wave which caught him up and spun him around. He lay flat and waited for it to pa.s.s; then he felt better.

After a few minutes he arose and commenced to walk back and forth over a small strip of sand, limbering his muscles. Finally he stripped off the damp clothes and stood naked in the shelter of the rock, pounding and chafing his body until it glowed. Gradually he overcame the paralysis of the cold. ”Legs,” he said, rubbing and beating them savagely, ”when I tell you to move, don't take five minutes about it. Now, move!” While the legs did not respond with alacrity, they showed improvement. His nervous system, which transmitted the orders of his mind to his body, seemed asleep-or broken like the telegraph lines they had torn down along the route of the raid. But slowly his nerves awoke, and strength replaced the numbness.

Hunger seized him, and so, remembering the stories he had heard of Indians tightening their belts during famines, he wound his underdrawers about his stomach, pulling the legs taut, then tying them. ”Poor subst.i.tute for a meal,” he mumbled, laughing. At least, he could laugh now, and that counted for something. He dressed and went to the water for another drink; then he began to pace slowly along the strip of sand, not daring to sit down and risk becoming numbed again.

”Better wait here for a few hours,” he said. ”They'll probably get sick of watching and seeing nothing but black night. Later I'll go down and see what that thing is. If it's a flatboat or a raft, I'll try to get across on that. If it isn't, I'll climb up the bank and get a log. Then I'll try swimming across holding to it. That'll keep me up if I get a cramp. Lord, I'm hungry! Guess I'd better not think about it. I'm talking to myself as though I'd reached my second childhood. Oh, well....” He paused and looked up toward the embankment. ”You thought you'd get me, didn't you, Alf? Not this Yankee!”