"On to Richmond," said the Northern papers. "Sweep the flag of rebellion to the Gulf!" And obedient to popular clamor, and in defiance of common sense, the Government ordered its little army—a handful of regulars and marines, three dozen regiments of State militia, or of half-drilled, unseasoned volunteers—to advance and attack an army of equal size, made up of enthusiastic Southerners as undrilled as the Northern volunteers, but the flower of their manhood, defending their own soil, in their chosen position. The July sun beat hotly down on the long column, plodding south-westward through Fairfax. Many a poor fellow fell by the wayside, unable to keep up the pace and carry his heavy burden. Many a regiment broke ranks at sight of a farm well or at mention of a spring, and scores of stragglers stopped to pick blackberries by the way, defiant of the pleadings of their officers. Some Pennsylvania militiamen, at the last moment, refused to gofarther than Centreville, and, with a New York militia battery, demanded their discharge on the plea that their time had expired. Some others succeeded in persuading the authorities in individual cases, and, to the scandal of those who tried and did not succeed, turned back to Washington. Those jaunty red jackets of the drum-boys in Shorty's old regiment looked worn and tawdry by this time, and the youngster whose wrists protruded far beyond the limit of the sleeves designed for the "little un" had more than once wished the original occupant back in his old place and his successor out of it. But that drum corps had seen the last of their smallest member, and he of them, for many a day. Billy Archer, he who was to tell Shorty when he came where to find Snipe, had been sent home sick at the end of the first month, and only seven of the biggest and strongest remained to beat the old "six-eights" and "two-fours" when the regiment marched for Manassas. There had come a letter from Shorty to Billy Archer with an enclosure to Snipe, but Snipe and his regiment disappeared the night before, and Archer didn't know enough to have it forwarded. He thought they would meet again within a day or two, when, in point of fact, they did not meet at all. Shorty's old regiment was assigned to a brigade on the north side of the Potomac, and Snipe's new-comers were marched over the Long Bridge to the sacred soil of Virginia and brigaded with troops from three different States, and there, as thegrave, big Captain Stark had said, the representative of the First Latin spent hours at his commander's tent, studying tactics and regulations and a little book called "Mahan's Outposts," when Stark wasn't using them, and twice it had happened that when the New England regiment was called upon to furnish the details for grand guard and picket, the tall, slender, brown-eyed boy in Company "C" was able to tell corporals and sergeants things about their duties they never had dreamed of. So, too, on battalion drill, Snipe, who used to hate such things, and even now bent under the weight of his long musket, had a more intelligent idea of the purpose of each formation and movement than most of the file-closers, some lieutenants not excepted. Before they had been a month in Virginia Captain Stark had taken a strong fancy to the youngster, and was seriously thinking of decorating his arms with chevrons when the order for the advance and Stark's promotion came together. The lieutenant-colonel, finding that his health could not stand the climate and exposure, had resigned and gone home, and just the very morning after the incident described in the last chapter a batch of new commissions reached the New-Englanders. Stark became major, vice Proctor, promoted lieutenant-colonel, and turned his company over to its new captain, the former first lieutenant. Stark's first act, after taking the oath and signing his acceptance, was to send for Lawton. The regiment, with much glee and excitement, was packingknapsacks for the move, and the lad came, pale and troubled.
"Are you ill, Lawton?" demanded Major Stark.
"No, sir. I just—got some bad news."
"Folks ill?"
"No, sir; it's something a sergeant in the Fire Zouaves told me."
"You don't wish to go home, do you?"
"I do, sir; but I won't. I'm going with the company."
"Lawton," said the major, after a moment's scrutiny of the lad's solemn face, "you've never told me where you live and I've never asked. I believed in you, and that's enough. The colonel has given me permission to choose my orderly from my old company. I have bought Colonel Poague's horses. The orderly will ride my spare horse and look after both. I want you, if you care to take the place."
"Yes, sir; I do."
"It leaves you out of the race for vacancies among the corporals."
"No matter, sir. That'll come when we reorganize for three years."
And so Snipe turned his long musket and heavy cartridge-box over to the first sergeant, dumped his knapsack and blanket into the field-officer's wagon, and straddled the major's spare horse. At any other time he might have felt the sense of exaltation that is inevitableto the boy or man who knows how to ride, but the young soldier's spirits were dashed and drooping. There was no time for brooding, however. The New-Englanders were on the march for Manassas. The dusty roads were thronged with troops, trudging buoyantly ahead, confident in the strength of their numbers and counting upon a conqueror's entrance into Richmond within ten days. Somewhere about noon, midway between Fairfax and Centreville, the "route march" was suddenly changed to silence and to cadence step. A staff-officer had accosted the colonel. The commands "halt" and "front" brought them into line facing the left; then the regiment was dressed back to the right until it stood aligned at the roadside, and Snipe found himself seated in saddle just to the left rear of his major, who had reined up at the left of the line. Looking back along the dust-covered route, the lad could see that the regiments following them in column were also halting and "fronting," as soon as closed to proper distance, and then, with ordered arms, standing at ease and wondering what was coming. Presently, far back towards Fairfax, there uprose a cheer that was taken up along the line, and Lawton and his major, craning their necks, could see a body of horsemen coming through the slowly settling dust-clouds, following the lead of a soldierly-looking man on a big gray. A band struck up "Hail Columbia;" the regiment directly to their left began to take up the shout of acclaim, beginning away down atthe tenth company, and the handsome horseman raised his forage-cap and spurred rapidly on. Again he raised it as he passed the colors, and the shout of greeting rolled into the right wing; and now the New England lads could see the yellow sash and the gold-embroidered belt, and knew a general officer was coming, and they, too, prepared to relieve their dusty lungs and overflowing spirits with a cheer. But all on a sudden the old colonel's shrill voice was heard, "Attentio-o-on battalion!" and talk and laughter ceased. "Shoulder-r-rhomps!" and every musket jumped from the ground. "Prese-e-e-nthomps!" and nine hundred glistening barrels bounced out in front of nine hundred martial noses. The silken colors, State and National, drooped forward in homage to the coming dignitary. The major sat bolt upright and looking straight over his horse's ears, his sword lowered to the salute, and Snipe's hand went up to the visor of his grimy cap, and the major-general smiled affably as he came trotting by, his horse shying sidewise with eyes and ears attent, and the grizzled colonel got a word of soldierly praise from the cap-tipping commander as he sped swiftly on, the staff trying hard to look dignified and keep their seats and distance at the same time, which several of them, being new to the business, found it hard to do. Behind them jogged a troop of regular cavalry,—the general's escort,—veterans who had spent years in saddle and showed it; and then with gratified pride that he and hisregiment had given proper and soldierly recognition to the chief, "instead of yelling like a town-meeting," said the colonel, that veteran of the Mexican war days permitted his men once more to "order" and rest and await developments. They were not long in coming. Away down to the left, over the shouts and greetings of other commands, could be heard the characteristic "Hi! hi! hi!" of the Fire Zouaves, and presently in long column of pieces, cannoneers mounted, two business-like batteries of the regulars came clinking along, their powerful, mettlesome horses moving like so much perfect machinery at steady walk, their drivers responding to the chaff and cheers and comments of the militia and volunteers by occasional droll wink or thrust of tongue into the nearest cheek, their nimble gun detachments grinning exuberantly, but rarely uttering a word. And then at last, when even their baggage-wagons had trundled by, a band was heard along the thoroughfare behind them, and through the dust came stalking a superb drum-major, his baton swinging in one hand, his huge bear-skin shako dangling from the other arm; and then the halted column coughed and sneezed as a strong regiment of infantry marched silently by in column of fours, determined, evidently, to impress upon the rest of the division their martial appearance and discipline. And then, in vivid contrast, right behind them, came the loose gray jackets and trousers, the red shirts and faces of the Fire Zouaves, grinning, chaffing,"hi, hiing" every foot of the way, and Major Stark turned and signalled to his orderly, and the lad rode up alongside.
"These are your old friends, I take it, Lawton. Sit here where you can see them."
The colors went sweeping by, flaunting in the sunshine despite the besmirching dust, and the seventh company came swinging along, and all of a sudden a wiry-looking sergeant file-closer glanced up and shouted, "Hullo, Snipey! How areyou?" after the Bowery fashion of the day. "Hullo, Snipey!" came the greeting from half a dozen brawny throats. "Say, sonny, did you git square with that Metamora gang before you come away?" "Hullo, Snipe! Where's Shorty all dis time?" "Say, boy, what deestrick d'you run to now?" And before anybody could say a word to prevent it, half a dozen laughing, rollicking fellows sprang from the ranks and were crowding about Lawton as he sat blushing, half pleased, half ashamed, and shaking the lad by the hand. "Come over and see us when we git to camp," they cried in chorus, as, clamping their heavy sword-bayonets to their sides with the left hand, and trailing the brown barrels of their "special" rifles, they hurried on to catch their company. It was all over in a minute, but the New-Englanders looked curiously at the major's orderly, and that quiet-mannered, taciturn officer finally turned, with something like a smile.
"One would hardly say those fellows could havebrought you ill news, Lawton. They seem like old friends."
"I knew them well when at school in New York, sir."
"Who is Shorty?"
"He was my chum, sir. I thought he'd be here long ago. He was a drummer in the Seventy-first New York. His relatives wouldn't let him come, I suppose."
"Would yours, do you think,—if they knew?"
"No, sir. But my father's been dead a long time. My mother married again, and—I've been shifting for myself of late."
"I understand," said the major, inclining his head; "but does your mother know now?"
"I write to her every month, sir. She knows I'm with the army. They would get me out if they knew where to find me, but I should enlist in another regiment under another name, so what would be the use?"
And then once more came the command attention. Again the dusty march was resumed. Again the column alternately tramped and halted. Other generals and staff-officers rode to and fro, and were curiously inspected by the rank and file. Again the New-Englanders were led off into an open field some distance from the pike, and, late in the afternoon, stacked arms and unslung knapsacks in a skirt of woods. Pots, kettles, and canteens were filled from the cisterns and wells of the neighboring farm-house, whose inmates looked on in silent disapproval, and just as the sun was sinkingtoward a distant line of heights some twenty miles away to the west, that a school-master in the color company said were called the Bull Run Mountains, somebody held up a warning hand and said "Listen!" There was a throb and pulsation in the heavy, heated, breathless air. A dull booming sound at irregular intervals came floating from the distant front. Men sprang to their feet from under the trees and listened eagerly, their faces paling a little; some lips uncontrollably twitching. It was the first note of the grand overture so soon to burst in the magnificence of its volume on their unaccustomed ears. Somewhere out toward that winding fringe of timber in the low ground five miles away to the south a field battery had sighted the enemy in sufficient force to warrant unlimbering and letting drive. The hostile armies were within striking distance.
For a moment the men from the land of the Puritan listened in awed silence. There had been a sharp encounter down that way two days before between the leading division and a concealed enemy, and rumor had it that many were killed and wounded, but the ambulances had been sent another way, and this brigade saw none of them. Over toward the roofs of Centreville a Western regiment sent up a cheer. Somewhere through the woods, down toward the right, the uproarious "Hi, hi" of the Zouaves, like the yelp of a pack of prairie wolves, rose swift from wing to wing, and in the midst of the distant clamor the major's quiet voice fellon Snipe's listening ears, and the lad started, gulped down some strange feeling as of faintness and nausea that had stolen over him, and pulled himself together.
"The horses? Yes, sir, they'll be through feeding in ten minutes."
"Very well. I'm to go forward with four companies at dusk. You needn't, if you wish to write—or anything."
But when the major led that silent detachment into the winding bridle-path through the trees, following the lead of a young staff-officer who rode jauntily ahead, Snipe Lawton followed close at his commander's heels.
In more than a dozen regiments of raw soldiery camping in the fields about Centreville that hot July evening were lads no older than George Lawton. Among the seasoned regulars, few as they were, serving either as fifers or drummers in the infantry and marines, buglers in the batteries or trumpeters in the cavalry, were some who were even younger,—boys born in the army far out on the frontier, perhaps, or at the few garrisoned forts on the Atlantic coast,—sons of soldiers who knew no other life and who would have felt awkward in any dress but the uniform. But there were few who did not at first feel, as Snipe felt, a nervous tremor about the knees at sound of those swift banging guns. Veteran soldiers soon learn that cannon may boom all day and little damage be done, and that the real sound that tells of deadly battle is the sustained crackle and crash of musketry. All through the excited army the news had gone that there had been a "meeting" Thursday downat Blackburn's Ford to the left front, "a reconnoissance in force," a staff-officer described it to silent, serious Major Stark, "merely to develop the enemy." But that reconnoissance had developed something else,—the fact that some of the raw regiments, bursting with eagerness to march to Richmond ten days earlier, couldn't stand fire to-day, for the moment the screaming shells from the Confederate guns on the southern bank of Bull Run came crashing through the timber on the north side, a new volunteer command, shoved in there to support a battery, scurried out of it in most undignified haste. Others, no older in service, but better led, stood their ground like men, despite their pale, anxious faces, and roundly jeered the "salt-workers." One thing was settled to the satisfaction of General McDowell, commanding the Union force, and that was that the routes to Manassas Junction, either by way of the Stone Bridge straight ahead on the broad pike, or more directly by the several fords farther down-stream, were vigilantly guarded, so that "the longest way round" would probably be the shortest way to that centre of rebel activity. There at Manassas the railways from the South and from the Shenandoah joined. There were the stores and supplies. There was the strategic point, and scattered along the wooded bluffs that hemmed the stream on the southern side, all along for nearly eight miles were stationed the Southern brigades. With Manassas at their backs five miles away, with Bull Run directlyin their front, with only one broad road and four or five bridle-paths or wagon-tracks leading down to it, the Southern general felt well assured in his position and equally confident of his men.
On the other hand, the Union leader was schooled in strategy and grand tactics and quick to see his opportunities. Bull Run was as "crooked as a ram's horn," said the staff-officers sent forward to reconnoitre, but its general course below the Stone Bridge was southeastward, despite its deep bends and twists, while above the bridge, within four miles or so, from the neighborhood of Sudley Springs, it had three sharp elbows, and flowed alternately east and south. Below the bridge the woods were thick on both banks; above it, toward Sudley Church, were many open fields and patches. All Friday and Saturday the Union troops were closing up on Centreville, bringing with them, worse luck, a gang of curious spectators in carriages and buggies,—people coming out the twenty-five miles from Washington as though to a picnic,—and all this motley crowd was scattered through the fields and orchards and shady groves and swarming through the farm enclosures about the once placid, sleepy little Virginia village this still Saturday afternoon that preceded the momentous Sunday of the first real battle of the civil war.
It was seven o'clock by the major's watch as the rear of his silent column swung clear of the bivouac where comrade soldiers stood and longed to cheer them off,but for the caution of their officers passed company by company down the line of stacked rifles. There had been a brief conference between the gray-haired, shrill-voiced colonel and his junior field-officer. The latter had received his orders direct from the commanding general. That accomplished soldier had keenly looked the major over, and, as the latter remounted and rode silently away, had turned to his adjutant-general with the comprehensive remark, "He'll do!" And now, as the twilight deepened and the stars began to twinkle in the eastern skies, through a winding wood-path the column moved, snake-like, swiftly, confidently, yet noiselessly, on. There was barely a farm-wagon track along the springy turf. Each man carried his knapsack, blanket, and his forty rounds. Light marching order would have been welcome after the heat and heavy burdens of the past few days. Route step was the command when clear of the sentry lines, but silence the caution. Quarter of a mile out, and in a little grove, the leaders came upon a company of infantry clustered about their stacked rifles. The wood road forked here, one branch going straight on north, the other bearing farther to the west. A word from the young lieutenant of regulars, riding side by side with Major Stark, and the commander of the picket reserves stood back, and, without a moment's pause, the battalion swung steadily on, taking the right-hand path. A few hundred yards and there was momentary check. Asubaltern officer and some twenty or thirty soldiers stood under arms at a bend in the path, and now the light was so dim that the stars directly overhead were beginning to peep down at the drowsing world beneath. The two lieutenants, the professional of the staff, the volunteer of the infantry, held brief parley, while Major Stark looked back toward his coming battalion, signalled to the foremost captain marching sturdily by the side of his first sergeant, and that officer stepped out a yard or two, faced back toward the long column, and, first waving his sword aloft to attract attention, took it in both hands, the left near the point, held it horizontally over his head an instant, and then suddenly lowered it; whereat, without a sound, all who saw as quickly halted short, softly placing the shod butts of the rifles on the ground, and all others almost instantly followed the example. It was part of a silent drill the New-Englanders had been taught for just such emergencies.
With beating heart Snipe listened to the low-toned colloquy. The lieutenant of the picket-guard, a trifle excitedly, was dictating some report just received from the outposts.
"No, I didn't see 'em myself," he replied, in answer to question, "but Sergeant Holman says he couldn't be mistaken. The outermost sentries, three of them, all say the same. There were at least twenty-five horsemen. They forded the Run right down here to the southwest of us, and rode northward so as to cross thisslanting path, if they kept on in the same direction, just about a mile from here. Holman's with the outposts now, sir."
The staff-officer turned to Major Stark. "They may have been sent to destroy the very bridge we are ordered to guard," said he, in low tone. "It isn't two miles ahead."
"Then the sooner we get there the better," was the prompt answer, and, glancing over his shoulder, the major signalled again, his right hand high in air at first, then pointing to the front, but in the gathering darkness the gesture was not fully understood. "Ride back, Lawton, and tell Captain Flint to follow with the battalion," and the two mounted officers rode rapidly ahead, and in a moment were lost to sight among the shadowy trees.
It was Snipe's first mission as an orderly, and well he remembered it. Whirling his horse about, he trotted back to where the head of the column stood silently with ordered arms, the men leaning on their muskets. "Major Stark says to follow with the battalion, sir," he promptly announced to the alert captain, using as nearly as possible, as he had read was the duty of staff-officers and messengers, the exact words of the commander; and then, seeing the column instantly obeying, he again turned, rode sharply past the silent picket-post, and, straining his eyes for a sight of his major, while threading the dim vista of the wood path, he soon overtookthe two again, halted once more and in earnest converse with a bearded, sturdy-looking sergeant, who, with a little squad of dark-uniformed infantry, formed the outpost.
"The sentinels are not a hundred yards beyond us," he heard him say. "All three saw them. The ground slopes gradually to the south and west. It's quite open. They crossed the Run down yonder, and rode straight away northward," and the sergeant pointed to a distant ridge. "None of 'em came within range. They didn't seem to think anybody would be out here at all."
The staff-officer sat listening quietly and attentively until the sergeant finished. Then he turned to the major. "I chose this ground myself," he said. "The sentries are hidden by bushes from the front, and have a clear view for nearly a mile, by day at least, and looking back you could see the roofs of Centreville on the high ground to the east. I reconnoitred all through here yesterday and came across that bridge about three o'clock. There's a deep wide ditch, marshy in places, wet and miry everywhere for a mile either way, and the banks are steep. Foot troops and cavalry can cross all right, but we've got to keep that bridge for the guns, especially that big thirty-pound Parrott General Hunter's to bring along. I wish we'd been sent out earlier, though of course we might have been seen crossing the open fields. Look!" and Lieutenant Upton led a few paces to the edge of the scattered trees, and there the whole westwardfirmament was visible, even down to the black lines of the Bull Run Mountains, just setting its own "sentinel stars" for the long night-watch.
"I wish so, too," said the major. "Lawton, ride back and guide the column. It may lose the way."
Again the lad turned and trotted away, but before he had gone a hundred yards he could see the faint gleam of steel come dancing through the glade, and almost instantly there followed the stern, sharp, low-voiced challenge. "It's Lawton," he answered quickly. "The major feared you might lose the way, and told me to guide you."
The men were panting a little now, for Flint was forcing the pace. Something told them there was work ahead. "Know what's up, orderly?" muttered the captain.
"No, sir. The pickets say some rebel cavalry crossed the front just before dark, somewhere about two dozen of 'em." And as Snipe now rode along, with over three hundred stalwart fellows trudging at his back, despite all the excitement of the moment his thoughts went back to the school-days and the First Latin, and he wondered what the fellows would think to see him now, guiding a whole battalion to its post of duty, perhaps to its place in battle. He wondered with clinching teeth and quickening breath who could have made those fellows he had so sworn by believe that he, Snipe Lawton, was a common thief. Was that the reason Shorty neverwrote again? Was that why no one now seemed to care where he was or what had become of him? The boy's wounded heart beat vehemently in protest and in indignation, and there in the darkness of that 'cross country wood path his lips murmured a prayer for guidance and protection, that he might live to give the lie to that slander,—might so live as to win honor and credit for the name his enemies had besmirched. Two nights before, following his major through a dark lane when visiting sentries, the boy's heart had bounded uncontrollably, and his knees had trembled so hard that his horse, too, seemed to shake, all because a nervous raw recruit had fancied he saw a rebel stealing on him through the blackness of the night, and after vainly challenging a wandering mule, had roused the whole division and nearly killed his major with a single wildly aimed shot. To-night as Snipe thought of the story he had wrung from the unwilling lips of Sergeant Keating, of the Fire Zouaves, one of 40's old "bunkers," the sense of pride and indignation bore down all thought of fear, and Snipe Lawton, who the year before hated drill and wouldn't be a soldier for anything, even now in the dark, where Napoleon himself had said most men were cowards, was praying that the rebels might be there at the bridge, and that he might be foremost in the dash upon them.
On past the peering, shadowy knots of soldiers of Sergeant Holman's party he led them, the hard-breathing,swift-striding Yankees swinging along behind. Out over the starlit open to where, well across the field, he could dimly descry the forms of two horsemen. "Well done, orderly," muttered the regular. "You've lost not a second. Now, major, we'll push ahead. Better caution them not to make a sound."
"They won't," said Stark, in answer, and resumed the northward way. Five minutes and they were skirting an old snake-fence, well out beyond the hail of the last sentry or vedette of the Union lines. Any moment now they might meet scouting parties of the rebel horse, and here Lieutenant Upton warned the major to keep with his command, while he himself, bending low on his horse's neck, pushed out ahead. Ten minutes more they went without halt of any kind, but now Stark noted how hard the men were breathing, and ordered Flint to take it easy. "Soldiers need their wind if it comes to fighting," said he. Fifteen minutes, and there was a long fringe of timber ahead, and farther off to the north a light was shining, like a candle, in a farm-house window, but still the dim cart-track led on, and the young staff-officer kept out ahead. Little by little they drew closer to the trees, and eyes and ears were strained for sight or sound. The major, too, was bending low by this time, and eagerly, anxiously, scanning the shadowy line ahead. Presently he drew rein and muttered a call to Snipe, and the lad spurred up alongside. Both horses were pricking up their ears. "This horseacts as though there were others ahead there," whispered Stark. "It may be only the lieutenant's. Here he comes now!"
It was Lieutenant Upton, riding cautiously back. "Major," he muttered, "that bridge is just across the next field, and I could hear voices and the sound of horses' hoofs on the planks. If it's that patrol, we've got 'em. We can't deploy yet. We must creep through these woods and deploy beyond them. I know the ground."
The column had not even halted, for the moment the staff-officer joined the leader he reined about and rode on, talking eagerly in low tone as he rode, then once more pushed cautiously ahead, the hoof-beats hardly audible on the springy turf, and was soon lost among the trees. Five minutes more and the major and his faithful orderly emerged again under the open starlight, and there they found their alert guide. "Let them halt in the timber a moment," whispered Upton. "Look at that light." And while the head of column abruptly ordered arms, and each succeeding set of fours almost bumped up against that which preceded it before it could do likewise, the aide-de-camp pointed southward.
Upon some dark height full three miles away toward the Junction, and evidently some distance beyond the stream, a bright light, as of a lantern with brilliant reflector at its back, was shining steadily. "There was another a mile to the north of us as we crossed the lastopen common," said Stark. "Why, look! There it is again, yet it was dark just now."
And then, suddenly as that northern light appeared, it was extinguished or hidden. Then, before any one could speak, again it flamed. Again it disappeared, and the explanation occurred to all three at the same instant. "Signalling, of course," muttered Upton. "Now get two companies into line, facing west; then we'll leave our horses with them and creep out toward the bridge."
Another moment, and while Flint was noiselessly leading the foremost two into line, the major and the staff-officer had dismounted, handed their reins to silent Snipe, and out they went, crouching low, into the westward darkness, while every man breathed hard and listened. Then the southern light began to flash and disappear alternately. "We are far out to the west of Centreville," murmured Flint. "Those windows are hidden from that point. They doubtless think no one can see them here."
Five minutes, and still no sound came from their venturesome scouts. They had had time to go all the way across if need be. "What d'you s'pose they signal for?" whispered a young soldier in the leading set, whereupon the sergeant turned and muttered, "Hush!" and men began to realize that it was a time to listen—not to talk.
All of a sudden, low, clear, and distinct, a whistle was sounded not four hundred yards away. The firstthought to strike every man was, the major! but the major had gone straight to the west; this sound came from across the wide field well to the northward of the supposed position of the bridge. Before there was time to comment the answer was given straight out ahead, soft, yet just as distinct. Then all three horses left with Snipe pricked up their ears and whirled toward the northwest, for from that quarter came the sound of hoof-beats, the low thud and rumble of horses moving at lively lope. Swift, invisible, they swooped down from the northward across the front. Then came sudden check, then silence, then the next minute the hollow sound of iron-shod hoofs upon resounding boards. First one horse, at a walk, then two, three, half a dozen together, and then silence again.
Two minutes later, back from the front, running, came the major. "Forward, just as you are!" he muttered to Flint. "The bridge is safe," and, swinging into saddle and bidding Snipe come on with the lieutenant's horse, he sped swiftly away across the field. At its western limit, at the edge of a deep, black trench that stretched away southward toward Bull Run, they found the staff-officer, standing at the old wooden bridge.
"They've left it intact," murmured Upton, gleefully, "and they've been scouting around our right flank for indication of any attack from this direction, and have missed us entirely. Now let 'em come back and get it if they can!"
In ten minutes three of Stark's strong companies had stacked arms among the timber to the west of the clumsy yet precious structure. The fourth was chosen for guard and picket duty, and, under the guidance of the energetic young staff-officer, every approach was covered. Wary sentries were stationed five hundred yards away, up and down the unsightly trough and well out toward the winding run, with supports and small reserves intervening between them and the main body. Even the open field to the east was guarded, for Major Stark meant that no enemy should come upon him unawares. Finally, deep in the shelter of the grove, they struck a light and consulted their watches. "Just half-past nine," said Upton, "and at midnight the move begins. Now I'll ride back and report. What splendid luck thus far!"
"You have no orderly, lieutenant," said Major Stark. "Let Lawton ride back with you until you reach our lines. I'd be better satisfied."
"There is no need, thank you, major. There is no likelihood of my meeting rebel patrols between this and our pickets. Those fellows are back across Bull Run by this time and riding away to tell Beauregard the Yanks have no idea of reaching round him this way."
Snipe, listening in silence, hoped, despite the brave resolution of the earlier evening, that nothing would happen to change the lieutenant's mind. It wasn't the riding back with him that he dreaded to think of, it wasthe solitary trot to rejoin the major after seeing Upton safely to the lines. There on the distant heights the lights around Centreville were twinkling, and, even while the officers were consulting a moment before, the lad noted that while they could no longer see the gleam on the high ground south of the Run, the men were again whispering together about that signal to the north of them.
Then the staff-officer held out his hand. "Good-night, Major Stark. I shall take pleasure in telling the general how prompt and soldierly your command has been. After all the go-as-you-please business I have had to note on the march it is good to see a regiment behave like regulars. Good-night to you, too, my lad. If I ever get a regiment I'd like to have a hundred young fellows of your calibre," said he, and to Snipe's surprise and delight Lieutenant Upton was grasping his hand too.
But just as the young officer turned away a thought occurred to him. "The general will be anxiously awaiting my report, and I must hurry. If it weren't for that I'd find out what's going on where that light is up yonder. Good-night again. Look for us along about two o'clock."
The muffled sound of the hoof-beats died away across the open field. The men close at hand unrolled their blankets and stretched themselves upon the turf. No fires were allowed, but many a pipe was lighted well within the shelter of the trees, and, too excited to sleep,they lay chatting in low tones. Several of the officers grouping about had heard the young regular's closing words. "That light can't be more'n a mile off," said Captain Flint. "I would like to know what's going on there myself."
The major had dismounted, and by the gleam of a little folding lantern was jotting down some memoranda at the moment in the note-book he always carried. Method was second nature to Stark. Not until he had finished his writing did he reply. Then, even while glancing over his lines, he quietly said,—
"You shall. Bring twenty men and come along."
Quarter of an hour later, with the senior captain left in command at the bridge, Major Stark, Lawton as ever riding close behind him, was leading slowly and cautiously out of the shadows and across an open field that sloped gradually toward a low ridge against the northern sky. Behind them, treading softly, came Flint, a lieutenant, and twenty men. The latter had fixed bayonets and discarded anything about their equipment that would rattle. The north star gleamed right over what seemed to be a little grove along the ridge, and on the edge of the dark patch stood, against the sky, regular and square in outline, an object like a house. Not five minutes back a light was shining in the midst of it, but now that was gone. Slowly, cautiously, the little party continued its silent move, rising gradually with every rod, and at last the leader came to another snake-fence,and three or four stout fellows sprang forward and threw down a panel or two. While this was being done the major looked back, and there, shining over the low ground from the distant heights beyond Bull Run, that clear, steady light was gleaming again, powerful, almost, as the head-light of a locomotive. Away to the southeast, grouped about Centreville, the camp-fires of the Union troops were blazing, and from along this ridge their position was plainly visible. No wonder Virginia sympathizers chose the spot from which to signal! Now what message might they not be sending two hours later when the army began to move? It was after ten o'clock, and that house had been dark for over ten minutes, yet Stark felt confident their stealthy approach was unsuspected. Then comes the stifled cry, "Ha! there it is again!—the light in the upper window, well under the eaves!" Snipe's heart bounds almost into his throat in his excitement, for now it is barely long pistol-shot away, and he is the proud possessor of a new Colt's revolver, much handier, he thinks, than the long, cumbrous musket. And now it's out again; and now, five seconds later, shines anew, and so it goes,—darkness alternating with light three times, then all is black and unbroken. A sergeant is somewhere ahead looking for the next fence. The little party scrambles on up the steeper slope. If only there are no dogs about! Hear them baying over there toward Centreville? and over there yonder to the west toward Sudley Church?Surely if there are dogs here they would be out and baying their reply. Bigger and blacker looms the house ahead, and still no challenge from dog or man. Can it be that the farm folk have deserted it, and that only lurking scouts or spies are here?
And now they come upon a dilapidated picket-fence; beyond it a row of bushes. The sergeant in advance turns back and tells the major there's a wide open gateway at the east, and into this he cautiously rides, Snipe still following. But, oh, how the boy heart is thumping! The roadway is soft Virginia earth, and the hoofs strike no pebbles. Presently the major dismounts, and, handing his reins up to Snipe, bids him wait there in a little open space. Then, noiselessly, he and Flint lead on with the men, and Snipe feels, rather than sees, that they are surrounding the house and stationing soldiers at every door and under every window. All these now are dark save two on the lower floor in front. There are thick shades within, but they show a dull light, as from a table-lamp. Not a sound beyond a creaking of a shoe or plank is heard. The men move like kittens, but it is their first experience of the kind, and most of them are excited, even nervous. As for Snipe, he rages to see how he is trembling.
And then all of a sudden the major's horse, rejoicing that the weight is gone, gives himself a thorough shake, rattling housing and stirrups and accompanying the shake with a loud b'r-r-r-r of satisfaction. All too lateSnipe springs from saddle and seizes both horses by the nostrils. Almost instantly booted heels are heard within, and manly, ringing voices. Somebody comes striding to the door and throws it open. A tall, slender, shapely fellow is outlined against the dim light within, and a voice hails cordially,—
"Hullo! What brings you back? Anything the matter over yawnduh?" And that "yawnduh" betrays the Virginian.
"Nothing," is the answer, in Stark's quiet tone. "But your house is surrounded by the troops of the United States and I'll trouble you to come out."
For answer, out goes the light in the room, slam goes the door, and then there is dead silence just about five seconds. Then the order, "Break it in!"
Up the low steps spring a sergeant and two men. Crash goes the door before their heavy rifle-butts, and then, bayonets advanced, in they go. The major, following coolly, strikes a light, and holds aloft his little lantern. The candles on the table are still smoking, and are quickly again ablaze. "Come in here, three or four more of you," orders Stark, while Flint comes hurrying round to the front. There is a rush of feet on the upper floor, a back window is hurled open. "Head 'em off there!" shouts Flint, as again he runs back. There is a sound of sudden scuffle, and some stern order within. Then Snipe can stand it no longer and leads his excited horses closer to the house. He hears the rifle-butts gobanging at the doors up-stairs and more men hurrying into the hall. He hears Flint repeat the cry, "Watch every window!" And now he shifts the bight of both reins into the left hand and whips out his revolver, still towing his suspicious and reluctant steeds, and just as he nears the front, almost at his feet, the doors of a cellarway, hitherto unseen and unsuspected, fly open. Two dark figures burst forth. He feels again, rather than sees, that a murderous blow is aimed at his head, and even as he ducks out of the way a revolver flashes and barks just at his ear, and, now instinctively, he pulls trigger. At the flash and bang of the pistols the startled horses both jerk back, pulling him with them. One rein is torn from his grasp, but the captor gains nothing, for before he can reach pommel or stirrup, two long-legged Yankees are on him, and he is dragged back into the light. A third stumbles over a prostrate form writhing in the road, as Snipe quickly finds his feet; and, as Major Stark comes striding out and brings his lantern to bear upon the scene, the lad, pale, breathing hard, but with flashing eyes and that revolver grasped in his clinching hand, is standing over his stricken prisoner,—first capture of the advancing arms of the Union,—a young Confederate officer, whose brand-new uniform is richly laced with gold, but whose face is now white as death as he swoons away.
First capture of the advancing arms of the Union.
First capture of the advancing arms of the Union.
War was a new, strange, and terrible thing to George Lawton. For a few minutes after his thrilling adventure, while the soldiers were binding with bed-cords the wrists of the three unscathed captives, and Stark and Flint were ministering to the wounded officer, Snipe leaned against a tree, the same feeling of nausea and faintness overcoming him now as it did one day when he saw the brutal beating of an Irish wagoner on Fourth Avenue. Others of the New England men were searching the premises from garret to cellar, finding no human beings but two trembling old negroes, who had never been allowed to regard themselves as possessed of any rights a white man was bound to respect. The prisoners, sullen, scowling, and very much amazed that such a thing could happen on the sacred soil of Virginia, refused to answer questions as to the owners of the place. The young officer was only just recovering from the swoon that followed upon the shock of his wound, butthe darkies humbly told all they knew. They were household servants,—slaves, of course. The farm was owned by a wealthy resident of Alexandria. The farmer and his family had gone. The young officer was "Marse Grayson," a nephew of the owner. The other gentlemen belonged to his troop in the cavalry, and there were four more of them somewhere over toward Centreville. They had been round there for several days, and signalling to their comrades over where "Marse Henry" and "Marse Robinson" lived, on the heights beyond Bull Run. Up in the attic the New-Englanders found candles, a polished tin reflector, and a flat board screen that just fitted in the window. A fine telescope and smaller field-glass were also there. A bountiful spread was on the table in the dining-room. The larder and cellar were well stocked, and the men from the land of steady habits did not disdain to "sample" the fluid refreshment found in the cool depths below the house or the delicacies in the pantry. Out in a wooden shed were four fine horses, with new saddles and bridles. Opulence was the rule in the Confederacy the first few months of the war; and now the sergeant and half a dozen men moved out to the front gate to look for those four troopers who were supposed to interpose between their feasting comrades and the possibility of surprise from the direction of the Yankees, and who, so early in the war, had not dreamed of foemen coming from the south. Possibly they had heard the sound of shots atthe farm-house and would come galloping back to ascertain the cause. The young officer was reviving. The flow of blood was stanched. He was laid upon a mattress and, with six men to carry him, was started down the slope toward the main body at the bridge. Stark then ordered the party to bring the horses, captives, arms,—everything that could be considered legitimate spoil of war,—and follow at once. The signal outfit was smashed, and Flint, a veteran of the old Covenanter type, was for burning the house, which Stark forbade, if for no other reason than that it would instantly bring patrols of Southern cavalry out to inquire the cause. Indeed, it was a problem with him what to do about the signals. Through the powerful glass he was able to see that the light still burned on the distant heights to the south, and at any moment it might brightly blaze again, asking some question and demanding reply. "Better let them waste time in endeavors to extract an answer than lose none in galloping over to investigate a fire," he reasoned, and then turned to where his young orderly stood, again silently holding the reins of the horses.
"We will push ahead," he said, as he mounted. A few minutes of search and they found the gap in the rail-fence, and overtook the party carrying the wounded Confederate. His youth and gentle breeding had both impressed the taciturn major, and now the fortitude which enabled him without a moan to bear the pain of this swaying motion roused the major's admiration."Gently, men. There's no hurry. We'll have a surgeon for you in a short time, lieutenant," he said, encouragingly, then spurred on to rejoin his battalion at the bridge. Sharp and clear came the "Halt! Who goes there?" of the northernmost sentry, and Stark reined back instantly as he answered, "Friends,—Major Stark and orderly." "Dismount, both," was the order, as from a dew-dripping clump of blackberry-bushes the rifle-barrel glinted in the starlight. A dark form came running up from the rear, bayonet advanced, and peered searchingly into the major's face. They had no countersign, but those lads had learned their duty from a veteran colonel who had practised it before the Seminoles, the Sioux, and Mexicans, too, and Stark could not forbear a word of praise to both sentry and corporal as he bade the latter summon the officer of the guard. In ten minutes the entire detachment, with its prisoners, was safe within the wakeful lines, and the whole battalion roused up as one man to welcome and rejoice. A year later the incident would have been too trivial to stir a man from sleep. Now it was of tremendous importance. Eagerly Flint's men were detailing their share in the exploit, some of them, exhilarated both by the event and the potent apple-jack, telling rather more than their share. Gently the bearers laid the young officer under the trees. Stark motioned back the inquisitive circle that promptly formed, gave his patient a long pull at a flask and another of cool spring water from a canteen,and then gently asked him which he would prefer,—to be carried into Centreville or wait there until a surgeon could come out.
"I do not care," said the wounded boy, with a sigh. "Can't you suppress this somehow?"
"The bleeding?" asked Stark, anxiously. "Why, I thought I had."
"No,—the whole business. I don't want mother to know I'm hurt."
Stark scratched a match and looked at his watch. Just twenty-five minutes past eleven. In half an hour, as Upton said, the army would be astir and moving. There would be many another name added to the list before the setting of another sun. Already, North and South, the papers were ablaze with tidings of that misguided "reconnoissance in force" toward Blackburn's Ford, which had felled some sixty men on each side, sent Tyler's men back to Centreville disgusted, and inspired those of Longstreet and Ewell with a craze of undeserved triumph. By two o'clock in the morning the column of Hunter and Heintzelman would be crossing that guarded bridge on the way to the upper ford, but they would not wish to be burdened with wounded and prisoners when going into action. The battalion would undoubtedly be ordered to join its own regiment as it came tramping along. The general might extract from these prisoners information which would be of value. Stark's mind was made up quickly. A lieutenantand half a dozen men were selected as guards, another six to carry the mattress and wounded prisoner. Lieutenant Payne was given his choice of the captured horses while Stark wrote brief report of the affair. In ten minutes everybody was ready. Still bound with bed-cords, the three silent rebs were bidden to fall in, and then for the first time did Stark open his lips to his orderly since the brief words at the farm. In the hearing of half his little command, the major turned to where the latter stood, silent and a trifle awed and wearied.
"Lawton," said he, "I send you back to the general with this party for two reasons: first, because you know the way and can guide them; second, because you made to-night the most important capture of the campaign thus far, and I mean that you shall have full credit."
For a minute there wasn't a sound. Snipe felt dizzy with the sense of instant elation, following as it did the languor and depression of the moment before. Then some sympathetic soul among the listeners began a soft clapping of the hands. The example was contagious. Before a repressing word could be heard, the New-Englanders gave vent to their feelings in a volley of hearty, if suppressed applause. The major had to order silence and caution. Then handing a folded paper to his orderly, with a grim smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder, bade him mount and be off, and like a boy in somewild dream, incredulous, unrealizing, yet with a heart throbbing with thankfulness, George Lawton remounted and rode out into the starlight, over the echoing bridge, and took the front of the little detachment, his cheeks, so pale awhile ago, burning now with pride and hope, his thoughts drifting back to mother and the boys. What wouldn't Shorty give to be in his place this night?
An hour later a knot of newspaper correspondents, orderlies, stragglers, and servants clustered about the party as it rested in the starlight in front of an old Virginia homestead. On a bed in the rear room the surgeons had laid the wounded Confederate. In the main room, with two or three of his staff and half a dozen correspondents pencil-driving about him, sat the commanding general. Before him, silent and respectful, stood brown-eyed, long-legged Snipe. The camp lanterns burned brightly on mantel and table. The sound of many voices, low-toned but impatient, came from without. Something had blocked the road in front, and the march of the rear divisions was stayed. The general was vexed, as all could see,—impatient and indignant. But as he read the pencilled lines, handed him by the adjutant-general, something like pleasure shone on his florid, soldierly face.
"You chose the right man, Burnside," he suddenly exclaimed, as he turned to a stalwart, heavily whiskered officer who entered at the moment, clad in a pleated flannel blouse, with heavy riding-boots and breeches."Look at this," he added, handing up the brief despatch. "I wish I could inject as much sense into some—generals." Then he turned on Snipe, his stern face relaxing:
"You have done admirably, my lad. How old are you?"
For a moment the light went out of Lawton's eyes, giving way to trouble and embarrassment. He twisted his forage-cap in his trembling fingers. At last, huskily, but with reviving hope, he answered.
"I told them I was eighteen. To-night I tried to prove I was as good as my word."
A smile went round the room. The general beamed.
"You answer well, sir, and you do well. Major Stark probably can't spare you or you should join my head-quarters' party and wear the chevrons of a sergeant. Look after this young gentleman, captain, and see that he has coffee and supper before he starts back," he said to one of his aides, who had been silently gazing at the orderly's face. "Your regiment's time expires next week. Perhaps you would like to come to me then. If so, there'll be a place for you, and meanwhile the home people will be proud when they read in Monday's papers how their boy captured the first rebel officer at Bull Run."
And with these words ringing in his ears, the lad was marched away to a shed outside where aides and officers of every rank were snatching a hurried bite from acamp-table, and here he was regaled with sandwiches and coffee, and plied with questions by men whose pencils sped like mad over their pads of paper, and they noted instantly his embarrassment when they asked him about home and parents.
"I have no home," he said, simply. "My father has been dead some years. My mother remarried. I've been making my own way, and that's all there is to it." But more they would have. His name, of course, was known. "George Lawton, private, Company 'C,' First New England, orderly to Major Stark," and at last the lad said his mother lived in Rhinebeck, her name was Park, and then he broke away in search of the young captain to whose care the general had committed him. There was something oddly familiar about that officer's face as he greeted Snipe again.
"Come in here," said he, leading the way within the hall, and thence to a little bedroom. Then he turned and faced the wondering lad. "Haven't I seen you at the Primes' in Fourteenth Street," said he, "and aren't you Regy Prime's—Shorty's—chum whom they called Snipe?"
There was no answer for a moment, but out came both the young captain's hands in cordial clasp. "Why, of course you are! I was sure I had seen your face before. I'm one of Pop's old boys myself, and there are more of them round here. Shorty's uncle isn't a mile away at this minute. Lots more of the tribe are somewherewith the army. Why, your teacher, Beach, is with General Wilcox. He was a classmate of mine, and we're all proud of you, Snipe. Now you've got to get back to your major to-night, and I suppose all of us will be fighting to-morrow. However, don't you forget what the general said. Come to him when your regiment goes home next week it you want to stay in service, and go on to Richmond with us."
Alas for soldier hope and projects! Long before the midnight hour came again all the general's army, some of it in mad panic, was rolling back on Washington. The Monday morning papers, indeed, gave thrilling account of the heroism of Private George Lawton in capturing at the risk of his life a daring young rebel officer of the famous Black Horse Cavalry. Then there were details of Lawton's prospective promotion, and of the general's complimentary remarks, and Monday morning's papers teemed, too, with tremendous tales of battle, and all Gotham cheered itself hoarse over the vivid reports of the annihilation of the rebel cavalry by the terrific fighters of the Fire Zouaves. But by noon came other tidings and a turn in the tide,—by afternoon details of fell disaster. "The Fire Zouaves annihilated by the cavalry!" was the way it read now. "Our splendid batteries swallowed up and gone." "Our army cut to pieces." Many generals, colonels, and captains killed. Hosts of gallant soldiers slain, and at last, when full reports—authentic reports—were published a long weeklater, among the wounded and missing were the names of Major James Stark and Corporal George Lawton, of the First New England, and Sergeant Keating, of the famous Fire Zouaves.