You here! gasped the Major, and he made a grab for his collar
"You here!" gasped the Major, and he made a grab for his collar.
"Murder! murder!" the major bawled. "Stop the villain!"
From all directions the guests came running. The major's face was covered with blood, and he truly presented a gory appearance. It was some time before the excitement subsided so the majorcould tell his story. It was that a young villain had assaulted and attempted to murder him. By his description, the landlord at once identified the boy as the one who occupied room 45. But a search revealed the fact that the bird had flown. It was also ascertained that the major had received no serious injury.
By request of the major the meeting was hastily re-convened. There, in its privacy, he gave the true history of the attempted murder, as the guests of the hotel thought it. The major expressed his opinion that the boy was a spy. He was sure it was the same boy he had met in the hotel at Georgetown. "You know," he said, "that the landlord at Georgetown found a hole drilled through the plastering of the room that this boy occupied, into the one which was occupied by me and in which we held a meeting. I tell you, the boy is a first-class spy, and I would not be surprised if he was concealed somewhere in this room during the meeting."
"Impossible! impossible!" cried several voices, but nevertheless a number of faces grew pale.
"There is no place he could hide in this room, except behind the sofa, and I looked there," said Marshall.
"Are you sure you looked well?" asked Morgan.
"Quite sure."
"Gentlemen," said the landlord, "this room is kept locked. No one could have got into it."
"All I know," said the major, "I met him about three paces from the door, just as I turned the corner. When I attempted to stop him, he suddenly struck the blow and disappeared. If it was not for his black hair, I should be more than ever convinced that the boy was Fred Shackelford."
"In league with the devil, probably," growled Captain Conway. "For if there was ever one of his imps on earth, it's that Shackelford boy. Curse him, I will be even with him yet."
"And so will I," replied the major, gently feeling of his swollen nose.
"Gentlemen," said John H. Morgan, "this is no time for idle regrets. Whether that boy has heard anything or not, we cannot tell. But from what Major Hockoday has said, there is no doubt but that he is a spy. His assault on the major and fleeing show that. So it behooves us to be careful. I have a trusty agent at Nicholasville, who keeps me fully informed of all that transpires there. I will telegraph him particulars, and have him be on the watch for such a boy."
It was an uneasy crowd that separated that night. It looked as if one boy might bring to naught all their well-laid plans.
The next morning Morgan received the following telegram from Nicholasville:
John H. Morgan:Early this morning a black-haired, dark-skinned boy, riding a jaded horse, came in on the Lexington pike. Withoutstopping for refreshments he left his horse, and procured a fresh one, which the same boy left here a couple of days ago, and rode rapidly away in the direction of Camp Dick Robinson.Smith.
John H. Morgan:
Early this morning a black-haired, dark-skinned boy, riding a jaded horse, came in on the Lexington pike. Withoutstopping for refreshments he left his horse, and procured a fresh one, which the same boy left here a couple of days ago, and rode rapidly away in the direction of Camp Dick Robinson.
Smith.
"That means trouble," muttered Morgan. "I must put all the boys on their guard."
Late in the afternoon of the 19th the following telegram was received by Morgan from Nicholasville:
John H. Morgan:Colonel Bramlette with his regiment has just forcibly taken possession of a train of cars, and will at once start for Lexington. You are in danger.Smith.
John H. Morgan:
Colonel Bramlette with his regiment has just forcibly taken possession of a train of cars, and will at once start for Lexington. You are in danger.
Smith.
That night Breckinridge, Marshall, Morgan and half a score of others fled from Lexington. Their plottings had come to naught; instead of their bright visions of success, they were fugitives from their homes. It would have fared ill with that black-haired boy if they could have got hold of him just then.
When Fred escaped from Major Hockoday, he lost no time in making his way to the home of one of the most prominent Union men of Lexington. Telling him he had most important dispatches for General Thomas, a horse was procured, and through the darkness of the night Fred rode to Nicholasville, reaching there early in the morning. Leaving his tired horse, and taking his own, which he had left there, he rode with all speed to Camp Dick Robinson, and made his report to General Thomas.
The general was both astonished and delighted. He warmly congratulated Fred, saying it was awonderful piece of work. "Let's see," said he, "this is the 16th. I do not want to scare them, as I wish to make a fine haul, take them right in their treasonable acts. It's the only way I can make the government believe it. On the 19th I will send Colonel Bramlette with his regiment with orders to capture the lot. I will also have to guard against the advance of General Zollicoffer. As for the advance of General Buckner on Louisville, that is out of my department."
"And there," said Fred, "is where our greatest danger lies. Louisville is so far north they are careless, forgetting that Buckner has a railroad in good repair on which to transport his men."
"Do you think he will try that?" asked Thomas.
"Why not?" answered Fred, and then he asked for a map. After studying it for some time, he turned to Thomas and said:
"General, I have a favor to ask. I would like a leave of absence for a week. I have an idea I want to work out."
Thomas sat looking at the boy a moment, and then said: "It is nothing rash, is it, my boy?"
"No more so than what I have done," answered Fred. "In fact, I don't know that I will do anything. It is only an idea I want to work on; it may be all wrong. That is the reason I can't explain it to you."
"You are not going to enter the enemy's lines as a spy, are you? If so, I forbid it. You are too young and too valuable to risk your life that way."
"No, General, at least I trust not. The rebels will have to get much farther north than they are now if I enter their lines, even if I carry out my idea."
"Very well, Fred; you have my consent, but be very careful."
"I shall try to be so, General. I only hope that the suspicions I have are groundless, and my journey will prove a pleasure trip."
Thus saying, Fred bade the general good day, and early the next morning he rode away, taking the road to Danville.
Fred did not stop in Danville; instead, he avoided the main street, so as to be seen by as few of his acquaintances as possible. He rode straight on to Lebanon before he stopped. Here he put up for the night, giving himself and his horse a good rest. The country was in such a disturbed condition that every stranger was regarded with suspicion, and forced to answer a multitude of questions. Fred did not escape, and to all he gave the same answer, that he was from Danville, and that he was on his way to Elizabethtown to visit his sick grandfather.
One gentleman was exceedingly inquisitive. He was especially interested in Prince, examining him closely, and remarking he was one of the finest horses he ever saw. Fred learned that the man's name was Mathews, that he was a horse dealer, and was also a violent sympathizer with the South. He was also reputed to be something of a bully. Fred thought some of his questions rather impertinent, and gave rather short answers, which did not seem to please Mathews.
Leaving Lebanon early the next morning, herode nearly west, it being his intention to strike the Louisville and Nashville railroad a little south of Elizabethtown. It was a beautiful September day, and as Fred cantered along, he sang snatches of songs, and felt merrier and happier than at any time since that sad parting with his father. Where was his father now? Where was his cousin Calhoun? And he thought of that strange oath which bound Calhoun and himself together, and wondered what would come of it all. But what was uppermost in his mind was the object of his present journey. Was there anything in it, or was it a fool's errand? Time would tell. As he was riding along a country road, pondering these things, it suddenly occurred to him that the landscape appeared familiar. He reined up his horse, and looked around. The fields stretching away before him, the few trees, and above all a tumbled down, half-ruined log hut. It was all so familiar. Yet he knew he had never been there before. What did it mean? Could he have seen this in a dream sometime? The more he looked, the more familiar it seemed; and the more he was troubled.
A countryman came along riding a raw-boned spavined horse; a rope served for a bridle, and an old coffee sack strapped on the sharp back of the horse took the place of a saddle. Having no stirrups, the countryman's huge feet hung dangling down and swung to and fro, like two weights tied to a string; a dilapidated old hat, through whose holes stuck tufts of his bleached tow hair, adorned his head.
"Stranger, you 'uns 'pears to be interested," he remarked to Fred, as he reined in his steed, and at the same time ejected about a pint of tobacco juice from his capacious mouth.
"Yes," answered Fred, "this place seems to be very familiar—one that I have seen many times; yet to my certain knowledge, I have never been here before. I can't understand it."
"Seen it in a picter, I reckon," drawled the countryman.
"What's that?" quickly asked Fred. "I have seen it in a picture? Where? What do you mean?"
"Nothin', stranger, only they do say the picter of that air blamed old shanty is every whar up No'th. Blast the ole place. I don't see anything great in it. I wish it war sunk before he war born."
"Why, man, what do you mean? You talk in riddles."
"Mean!" replied the native, expectorating at a stone in the road, and hitting it fairly. "I mean that the gol-all-fir'-est, meanest cuss that ever lived war born thar, the man what's making war on the South, and wants to put the niggers ekal to us. Abe Lincoln, drat him, war born in that ole house."
Fred reverently took off his hat. This then was the lowly birthplace of the man whose name was in the mouths of millions. How mean, how poor it looked, and yet to what a master mind it gavebirth! The life of Lincoln had possessed a peculiar fascination for Fred, and during the presidential campaign of the year before the picture of his birthplace had been a familiar one to him. He now understood why the place looked so familiar. It was like looking on the face of one he had carefully studied in a photograph.
"Reckon you are a stranger, or you would have knowed the place?" queried the countryman.
"Yes, I am a stranger," answered Fred. "Then this is the place where the President of the United States was born?"
"Yes, an' it war a po' day for ole Kentuck when he war born. Oughter to ha' died, the ole Abolitioner."
Fred smiled, "Well," he said, "I must be going. I am very much obliged to you for your information."
"Don't mention it, stranger, don't mention it. Say, that's a mighty fine hoss you air ridin'; look out or some of them fellers scootin' round the country will get him. Times mighty ticklish, stranger, mighty ticklish. Have a chaw of terbacker?" and he extended a huge roll of Kentucky twist.
"No, thank you," responded Fred, and bidding the countryman good day, he rode away leaving him in the road staring after him, and muttering: "Mighty stuck up! Don't chaw terbacker. Wonder if he aint one of them Abolitioners!"
It was the middle of the afternoon when Fredstruck the railroad at a small station a few miles south of Elizabethtown. There was a crowd around the little depot, and Fred saw that they were greatly excited. Hitching his horse, he mingled with the throng, and soon learned that the train from the south was overdue several hours. To add to the mystery, all telegraphic communication with the south had been severed. Strike the instrument as often as he might, the operator could get no response.
"It's mighty queer," said an intelligent looking man. "There is mischief up the road of some kind. Here Louisville has been telegraphing like mad for hours, and can't get a reply beyond this place."
Here the operator came out and announced that telegraphic communication had also been severed on the north.
"We are entirely cut off," he said. "I can learn nothing. We will have to wait and see what's the matter, that's all."
Just then away to the south a faint tinge of smoke was seen rising, and the cry was raised that a train was coming. The excitement arose to fever heat, and necks were craned, and eyes strained to catch the first glimpse of the train. At length its low rumbling could be heard, and when at last it hove in sight, it was seen to be a very heavy one. Slowly it drew up to the station, and to the surprise of the lookers-on it was loaded down with soldiers.
"Hurrah for Louisville!" shouted the soldiers, and the crowd took up the cry. It was Buckner's army from Bowling Green en route for Louisville by train, hoping thereby to take the place completely by surprise. So far, everything had gone well. Telegraphic communications all along the line had been severed by trusty agents; the Federal authorities at Louisville were resting in fancied security; the city was lightly guarded.
Already General Buckner's hopes were high. In fancy, he heard his name on every tongue, and heard himself called the greatest military genius of the country. When the crowd caught the full meaning of the movement, cheer after cheer made the welkin ring. They grasped the soldiers' hands, and bade them wipe the Yankees from the face of the earth.
Fred took in the situation at a glance. This was the idea of which he spoke to General Thomas. He had an impression that General Buckner might attempt to do just what he was now doing. It was the hope of thwarting the movement, if made, that had led Fred to make the journey. His impressions had proven true; he was on the ground, but how to stop the train was now the question. He had calculated on plenty of time, that he could find out when the train was due, and plan his work accordingly. But the train was before him. In a moment or two it would be gone, and with it all opportunity to stop it. The thought was maddening. If anything was done, it must be donequickly. The entire population of the little village was at the depot; there was little danger of his being noticed. Dashing into a blacksmith shop he secured a sledge; then mounting his horse, he rode swiftly to the north. About half a mile from the depot there was a curve in the track which would hide him from observation. Jumping Prince over the low fence which guarded the railroad, in a few seconds he was at work with the sledge trying to batter out the spikes which held a rail in position. His face was pale, his teeth set. He worked like a demon. Great drops of perspiration stood out on his forehead, and his blows rang out like the blows of a giant. The train whistled; it was ready to start. Fred groaned. Would he be too late? Between his strokes he could hear the clang of the bell, the parting cheers of the crowd. He struck like a madman. The heads of the spikes flew off; they were driven in and the plates smashed. One end of a rail was loosened; it was driven in a few inches. The deed was done, and none too soon. The train was rounding the curve.
So busy was Fred that he had not noticed that two men on horseback had ridden up to the fence, gazed at him a moment in astonishment, then shouted in anger, and dismounted. Snatching a revolver from his pocket, Fred sent a ball whistling by their ears, and yelled: "Back! back, as you value your lives!"
Jumping on their horses quicker than they dismounted, they galloped toward the approachingtrain, yelling and wildly gesticulating. The engineer saw them, but it was before the day of air brakes, and it was impossible to stop the heavy train. The engine plunged off the track, tore up the ground and ties for a few yards, and then turned over on its side, where it lay spouting smoke and steam, and groaning like a thing of life. It lay partly across the track, thus completely blocking it. The engineer and fireman had jumped, and so slowly was the train running that the cars did not leave the track. For this Fred was devoutly thankful. He had accomplished his object, and no one had been injured. Jumping on his horse, he gave a shout of triumph and rode away.
But the frightened soldiers had been pouring from the cars. The two men on horseback were pointing at Fred and yelling: "There! there goes the villain who did it."
"Fire! fire!" thundered a colonel who had just sprung out of the foremost car. A hundred rifles blazed. Fred's horse, was seen to stumble slightly; the boy swayed, and leaned forward in his seat; but quickly recovering himself, he turned around and waving his hat shouted defiance.
Fire! Fire! thundered a Colonel who had just sprung out of the foremost car
"Fire! Fire!" thundered a Colonel who had just sprung out of the foremost car.
"Great heavens!" shouted a boy's voice. "That is Fred Shackelford, and that horse is Prince." It was Calhoun Pennington who spoke. The colonel who had given the order to fire turned pale, staggered and would have fallen if one of his officers had not caught him.
"Merciful God!" he moaned. "I ordered my men to fire on my own son."
The officers gathered around General Buckner, who stood looking at the wrecked engine with hopeless despair pictured in every feature. His visions of glory had vanished, as it were, in a moment. No plaudits from an admiring world, no "Hail! the conquering hero comes." Utter failure was the end of the movement for which he had hoped so much. Surprise was now impossible. It would take hours to clear away the wreck. He groaned in the agony of his spirit, and turned away. His officers stood by in silence; his sorrow was too great for words of encouragement.
Then a most pathetic incident occurred. Colonel Shackelford tottered up to General Buckner, pale as death, and trembling in every limb. "General," he gasped, "it was my boy, my son who did this. I am unworthy to stand in your presence for bringing such a son into the world. Cashier me, shoot me if you will. I resign my command from this moment."
The soul of the man who refused to desert his soldiers at Fort Donelson, when those in command above him fled, who afterwards helped bear General Grant to his tomb, with a heart as tender as that of a woman, now asserted itself. His own terrible disappointment was forgotten in the sorrow of his friend. Grasping the hand of Colonel Shackelford, he said with the deepest emotion:
"Colonel, not a soldier will hold youresponsible. This is a struggle in which the noblest families are divided. If this deed had been for the South instead of the North, you would be the proudest man in the Confederacy. Can we not see the bravery, the heroism of the deed, even though it has dashed our fondest hopes to the ground, shattered and broken? No, Colonel, I shall not accept your resignation. I know you will be as valiant for the South, as your son has been for the North."
Tears gushed from Colonel Shackelford's eyes; he endeavored to speak, but his tongue refused to express his feelings. The officers, although bowed down with disappointment, burst into a cheer, and there was not one who did not feel prouder of their general in his disappointment than if he had been successful.
How was it at Louisville during this time? General Thomas had warned General Anderson, who had moved his headquarters to that city, that General Buckner was contemplating an advance. But it was thought that he would come with waving banners and with the tramp of a great army, and that there would be plenty of time to prepare for him. Little did they think he would try to storm the city with a train of cars, and be in their midst before they knew it. When the train was delayed and telegraphic communications severed, it was thought that some accident had happened. There was not the slightest idea of the true state of affairs. As hours passed and nothing was heard of the delayed train, a train of discovery was sentsouth to find out what was the matter. This train ran into Buckner's advance at Elizabethtown, and was seized.
Not hearing anything from this train, an engine was sent after it. Still there was no idea of what had happened, no preparations to save Louisville. This engine ran into Buckner's advance at Muldraugh Hill. The fireman was a loyal man and at once grasped the situation. He leaped from his engine and ran back. What could this one man do, miles from Louisville, and on foot! He proved a hero. Meeting some section hands with a handcar, he shouted: "Back! back! the road above is swarming with rebels."
The car was turned and started for Louisville.
How those men worked! Great streams of perspiration ran down their bodies; their breath came in gasps, and still the fireman shouted: "Work her lively, boys, for God's sake, work her lively!"
At last Louisville was reached, and for the first time the facts known. At once all was excitement. There was hardly a soldier in the city. Once more the devoted Home Guards, the men who saved the city from riot and bloodshed on July 22d, sprang to arms. General Rousseau was ordered from across the river. He had but 1,200 men. These, with the Home Guards, made a force of nearly 3,000 men. These men were hurried on board the cars, and sent forward under the command of General W. T. Sherman. Through the darkness of the night this train felt its way. On reachingRolling Fork of Salt River the bridge was found to be burnt. Despairing of reaching Louisville, General Buckner had destroyed the bridge to delay the advance of the Federal troops. The danger was over. Louisville was once more saved. But how many American boys and girls know the name of the daring young man who tore up the track, or the brave fireman who brought back the news?[A]
But how was it with Fred; had he escaped unhurt from that volley?
The stumble of his horse was caused by stepping into a hole, yet slight as the incident was, it saved Fred's life, for it threw him slightly forward, and at the same moment a ball tore through the crown of his hat. Another ball struck the crupper of his saddle, and another one bored a hole through Prince's right ear.
As soon as he was out of sight Fred stopped, and, ascertaining that no damage had been done, excepting the perforating of Prince's ear and his hat, he patted his horse's neck and said: "Ah, Prince, old boy, you are marked now for life, but it is all right. I shall always know you by that little hole through your ear."
Fred stopped that night at a planter's house, who at first viewed him with some suspicion; but when he was told of Buckner's advance, he was so overjoyed, being an ardent Secessionist, that there was nothing good enough for his guest.
The next day, when Fred rode into Lebanon, the first man that he saw was Mathews, who sauntered up to him, and said in a sarcastic tone: "It seems, young man, that you made a short visit to your poor sick grandfather. How did you find the old gentleman?"
Fred shrugged his shoulders. "I changed my mind," he replied. "I didn't see the old gentleman; I concluded to come back. Things are getting a little too brisk up there for me. Buckner has advanced, and there may be some skirmishing around Elizabethtown."
"And so you run," exclaimed Mathews in a tone which made Fred's blood boil. All of this time Mathews had been carefully looking over the boy and horse, and quite a crowd had collected around them.
"Ah!" continued Mathews; "a round hole through your horse's ear, been bleeding, too; your saddle torn by a bullet, and a hole through your hat. Boy, you had better give an account of yourself."
"Not at your command," replied Fred, hotly. "And I deny your right to question me."
"You do, do you, my fine young fellow? I will show you," and he made a grab for Prince's bridle.
A sharp, quick word from Fred, and the horse sprang, overthrowing Mathews, and scattering the crowd right and left. Mathews arose, shaking the dust from his clothes and swearing like a trooper.
A fine-looking man had just ridden up to thecrowd as the incident occurred. He looked after the flying boy, and nervously fingered the revolver in his holster. Then a smile came over his face, and he spoke to Mathews, who was still swearing and loudly calling for a horse to pursue Fred.
"No use, Jim; you might as well chase a streak of lightning. That is the fastest horse in Kentucky."
Mathews looked at the man a moment in surprise, and then exclaimed: "Heavens! Morgan, is that you? How came you here?"
"Made a run for it night before last," replied Morgan with a laugh, "to keep from being nabbed by old Thomas. But what was the fuss between you and that boy? I wonder what he was doing out here any way? But, Mathews, he did upset you nicely; I think you rolled over at least six times."
"I will be even with him yet," growled Mathews.
"Oh! I have heard half a dozen men say that, myself included. But let's hear what the rumpus was about."
When Morgan heard the story, he said: "So Buckner is at Elizabethtown, is he? Well, that changes my plan. I was going to Bowling Green, but now I will change my course to Elizabethtown. But I would like to know what that boy has been doing. From what you say he must have been in a skirmish. Trying to throw a train off the track, perhaps; it would be just like him."
"But, Mathews," he continued, "the boy is gone, so let us talk business. I am going to raise a regiment of cavalry for the Confederate service, and I want you to raise a company."
"That I will, John," said Mathews. "There is no other man I had rather ride under."
Fred laughed heartily as he looked back and saw Mathews shaking the dust from himself. Finding that he was not pursued he brought Prince down to a walk. "I could almost swear," he said to himself, "that I caught a glimpse of Morgan as I dashed through the crowd. Thomas surely ought to have him before this time. I wonder what it means."
As he was riding through Danville he met his uncle, Judge Pennington, who, to his surprise, greeted him most cordially, and would insist on his stopping a while.
"Where have you been, Fred?" asked the judge.
"Over towards Elizabethtown to see my sick grandfather," replied Fred, gravely.
"Fred, what do you mean?" asked his uncle, somewhat nettled.
"Well, uncle, I have been over towards Elizabethtown ostensibly to see my grandfather, but really to see what I could find over there."
"And what did you find?"
"I found Buckner's men as thick as hops, and I found a warm reception besides. Look here," and he showed his uncle the hole through his hat. "Ifyou will go out and look at Prince, you will find a hole through his ear, and you will also find the saddle torn with a bullet. Oh, yes, Buckner's men were glad to see me; they gave me a warm reception."
Judge Pennington looked grave. "Fred, are you telling the truth?"
"Yes, uncle."
"What did they fire on you for?"
"Oh, I side-tracked one of their trains."
The judge looked still graver. "Fred," said he, "you are engaging in dangerous business. Take care, or you will hang yet. I have heard of some of your doings. I had a visitor last night."
"What! not father, surely!"
"No, John H. Morgan."
"Then it was he I saw at Lebanon. I could hardly believe it."
"Why not, Fred?"
"Because—because—I thought—I thought he was in Lexington."
"It was because," answered the judge, severely, "that you thought he was a prisoner at Camp Dick Robinson. Ah, Fred, you were not as sharp as you thought. You foiled their plans; but, thank God! they have all escaped. One good has been accomplished. All pretense of neutrality is now at an end. These men will now be found in the ranks, fighting for the liberty of the South. As for Morgan, he will be heard from, mark my word."
"I rather like Morgan," said Fred. "He is adaring fellow, and sharp, too; yes, I believe he will be heard from."
"Fred, Morgan thinks you have had more to do with finding out their plans than any other one person."
"Morgan does me too much honor," replied Fred, quietly.
The judge remained quiet for a moment, and then said: "My boy, I wish you could have seen Morgan before you had so thoroughly committed yourself to the other side. He has taken a great fancy to you. He believes if he could talk with you, you might be induced to change your mind. He says in the kind of work in which he expects to engage, you would be worth a brigade of men. Fred, will you, will you not think of this? You are breaking our hearts with your course now."
"Dear uncle," replied Fred, "I thank Morgan for his good opinion, and I reciprocate his opinion; for of all the men I have met, I believe he, most of all, has the elements of a dashing, successful leader. But as for his offer, I cannot consider it for a moment."
The judge sighed, and Fred saw that his further presence was not desirable, so he made his adieus, and rode away.
"So Mr. Morgan wants to win me over," thought Fred, "and that was the reason uncle was so nice. I think this last scrape has burnt the bridges between us, and they will trouble me no more."
Fred made his report to General Thomas, who heard it with evident satisfaction.
"This, then, was your idea, Fred?"
"Yes, General, I in some way conceived the notion that Buckner would try to surprise Louisville just as he did try to do. I knew that trains were running regularly between Nashville and Louisville, and thought that a surprise could be effected. But the idea was so vague I was ashamed to tell you, for fear of exciting ridicule. So, I got my leave of absence and stole off, and if nothing had come of it, no one would have been the wiser."
General Thomas smiled, and said: "It was an idea worthy of a great general, Fred. General Anderson has much to thank you for, as well as the people of Louisville. But you must take a good rest now, both you and your horse. From appearances, I think it will not be many days before General Zollicoffer will give us plenty to do."
FOOTNOTE:[A]The name of the gallant young man who tore up the track was Crutcher; the author does not know the name of the fireman.
[A]The name of the gallant young man who tore up the track was Crutcher; the author does not know the name of the fireman.
[A]The name of the gallant young man who tore up the track was Crutcher; the author does not know the name of the fireman.
On October 7th General Anderson, at his own request, was relieved of the command of the Department of Kentucky, on account of continued ill-health. The next day General W. T. Sherman, a man destined to fill an important place in the history of the war, was appointed to the position. Both the Federal and the Confederate governments had now thrown aside all pretense of neutrality. Kentucky echoed to the martial tread of armed men.
At Maysville under General Nelson, at Camp Dick Robinson under General Thomas, at Louisville under General Sherman, and at Paducah under General Grant, the Federal government was gathering its hosts; while the Confederate government with its troops occupied Columbus, Bowling Green, Cumberland Gap, and the mountains of eastern Kentucky. General Albert Sydney Johnston, one of the ablest of the Confederate generals, was in supreme command, with headquarters at Bowling Green.
General Zollicoffer marched from Cumberland Gap early in the month, and assumed offensive operations.
When General Sherman took command, Fred was sent by General Thomas to Louisville with dispatches. General Sherman had heard of some of the exploits of the young messenger, and he was received very kindly. Sherman, at that time, was in the prime of life. Straight as an arrow, of commanding presence, he was every inch a soldier. He was quick and impulsive in his actions, and to Fred seemed to be a bundle of nerves. In conversation he was open and frank and expressed his opinion freely, in this resembling General Nelson. But the rough, overbearing nature of Nelson he entirely lacked. He was one of the most courteous of men.
He would have Fred tell of some of his exploits, and when he gave an account of his first journey to Louisville, and his adventure with Captain Conway, the general was greatly pleased. Fred's account of how he discovered the details of the plot at Lexington was received with astonishment, and he was highly complimented. But the climax came when he told of how he had thrown the train from the track, and thus brought Buckner's intended surprise to naught. The general jumped up, grasped Fred's hand, and exclaimed:
"That, young man, calls for a commission, if I can get you one, and I think I can."
"General," replied Fred, "I thank you very much, but I do not wish a commission. I am now comparatively free. It is true, I am hired privately by General Nelson, and if I understand rightly I am getting the pay of a lieutenant; but I am notbound by oath to serve any length of time, neither could I have accomplished what I have if I had been a regular enlisted soldier."
"You are right," said the general. "But remember, if you are ever in need of any favor, do not hesitate to call on me."
This Fred readily promised, and left the general, highly elated over the interview.
Before leaving Louisville, Fred did not forget to call on the Vaughns. He found Miss Mabel well, and he thought her more beautiful than ever. A sad, pensive look on her face but added to her loveliness. Only the day before she had bidden her betrothed farewell, and he had marched to the front to help fight the battles of his country. As she hung weeping around his neck, he pointed to a little miniature flag pinned on his breast—it was the same flag that Mabel wore on that day she was beset by the mob—and said:
"Dearest, it shall be worn there as long as my heart beats. Never shall it be touched by a traitorous hand as long as I live. Every time I look upon it, it will be an incentive to prove worthy of the brave girl who wore it on her breast in the face of a brutal mob."
Then with one fond clasp of the hands, one long lingering kiss, he was gone; and to Mabel all the light and joy of the world seemed to go with him.
But the coming of Fred brought new thoughts, and for the time her eyes grew brighter, her cheeks rosier and laugh happier. The bright, brave boywho saved her from the mob was very welcome, and to her he was only a boy, a precious, darling boy.
They made Fred relate his adventures, and one minute Mabel's eyes would sparkle with fun, and the next melt in tenderness. In spite of himself, Fred's heart beat very fast, he hardly knew why. But when he told with trembling voice how he had parted from his father, and how he had been disowned and driven from home, the sympathy of the impulsive girl overcame her, and with eyes swimming in tears, she arose, threw her arms around him, imprinted a kiss on his forehead, and murmured: "Poor boy! poor boy!" Then turning to her mother, she said, "We will adopt him, won't we, mother, and I will have a brother."
Then remembering what she had done, she retired blushing and in confusion to her seat. That kiss finished Fred; it thrilled him through and through. Yet somehow the thought of being a brother to Mabel didn't give him any satisfaction. He knew Mabel looked upon him as only a boy, and the thought made him angry, but the next moment he was ashamed of himself. He took his leave, promising to call the next time he was in the city, and went away with conflicting emotions.
Fred was really suffering from an attack of first love, and didn't know it. It was better for him that he didn't, for it was the sooner forgotten.
On his return to Camp Dick Robinson Fred found that General Thomas had advanced some ofhis troops toward Cumberland Gap. Colonel Garrard was occupying an exposed position on the Rock Castle Hills, and Fred was sent to him with dispatches. Fred found the little command in considerable doubt over the movements of General Zollicoffer. One hour the rumor would be that he was advancing, and the next hour would bring the story that he was surely retreating. Colonel Garrard feared that he would be attacked with a greatly superior force.
Fred resolved that he would do a little scouting on his own account. Colonel Garrard offered to send a small party with him, but Fred declined the offer, saying that a squad would only attract attention, and if he ran into danger he would trust to the fleetness of his horse to save him.
Riding east, he made a wide detour, and at last came to where he thought he must be near the enemy's lines. In his front was a fine plantation; near by, in the woods, some negroes were chopping. These negroes he resolved to interview. His appearance created great consternation, and some of them dropped their axes, and looked as if about to run.
"Don't be afraid, boys," said Fred, kindly. "I only want to know who lives in yonder house."
"Massa Johnson, sah."
"Is he at home?"
"Not now, sah; he down to Zollicoffer camp."
"Oh, then General Zollicoffer is camped near here?"
"Yes, sah; 'bout two mile down de road."
"Do any of the soldiers ever come this way?" queried Fred.
"Yes, sah; 'bout twenty went up de road not mo' than two hours ago. Den a capin man, he cum to see Missy Alice most ebber day."
"Thank you," said Fred, as he rode away. "I think I will pay a visit to Missy Alice myself."
Riding boldly up to the house, he dismounted. Before entering the house he accosted an old negro who was working in the yard, and slipping a dollar into his hand, said:
"Uncle, if you see any one coming either way, will you cry, 'Massa, your horse is getting away?'"
"Trus' me fo' dat," said the old man, grinning from ear to ear. "I jess make dat hoss jump, and den I yell, 'Massa, hoss gittin' way.'"
"That's it, uncle, you are all right," and Fred turned and went into the house, where he introduced himself as a Mr. Sandford, from Lexington. He had friends in Zollicoffer's army, and had run the gauntlet of the Federal lines to visit them. Could they tell him how far it was to General Zollicoffer's camp.
The ladies received him coldly, but told him the distance. But Fred was not to be repulsed. He was a good talker, and he tried his best. He told them the news of the outside world, and what the Yankees were doing, and how they would soon be driven from the State. This at once endeared him to the ladies, especially the younger, who wasa most pronounced little rebel. Miss Alice was a comely girl, somewhere between twenty and twenty-five years of age, and by a little but well directed flattery Fred completely won her confidence. She inquired after some acquaintances in Lexington, and by a happy coincidence Fred knew them, and the conversation became animated.
At length Fred remarked: "I hope it will not be long before General Zollicoffer will advance. We are getting anxious up at Lexington; we want to see the Yankees driven into the Ohio."
"You will not have to wait long," replied the girl. "Captain Conway tells me they are about ready, and will advance on the 20th or 21st——" she stopped suddenly, bit her lip, and looked scared.
In all probability she had told something that Captain Conway had told her to keep secret. Fred did not appear to notice her confusion, and at once said: "Conway, Conway, Captain Conway. Is it Captain P. C. Conway of whom you speak?"
"Yes, sir," replied the girl, brightening up.
"Why, I know him, know him like a book; in fact, we are old friends—special friends, I may say. He would rejoice to find me here," and then he added mentally, "and cut my throat."
"A brilliant soldier, and a brave one, is Captain Conway," continued Fred, "and if he is given an opportunity to distinguish himself, it will not be long before it will be Major or Colonel Conway."
This praise pleased Miss Alice greatly, and sheinformed Fred that he would soon have the pleasure of meeting his friend; that she expected him every moment.
Fred moved somewhat uneasily in his chair. He had no desire to meet Captain Conway, and he was about to make an excuse of going out to see how his horse was standing, when they were startled by the old negro running toward the house and yelling at the top of his voice: "Massa, massa, yo' hoss is gittin' away."
The sly old fellow had thrown a stone at Prince, and the horse was rearing and plunging.
Fred dashed out of the house; a party of horsemen was coming up the road, in fact, was nearly to the house. It was but the work of a moment for Fred to unhitch his horse and vault into the saddle, but the party was now not more than fifty yards away. At the head rode Captain Conway. They had noticed the horse hitched at the gate, and were coming at full speed to try and surprise the owner. The moment Conway saw Fred he knew him.
"Gods!" he cried, "Fred Shackelford, what luck!" and snatched a pistol from the holster and fired. The ball whistled past Fred's head harmlessly, and he turned in the saddle and returned the fire. It was the first time he had ever shot at a man, and even in the heat of excitement he experienced a queer sensation, a sinking of the heart, as though he were committing a crime.
Fairly and squarely the ball from his revolver struck the horse of Captain Conway in theforehead, and the animal fell dead, the rider rolling in the dust.
Immediately all was excitement. His men stopped the pursuit, and, dismounting, gathered around the captain, thinking he was killed.
But he sprang to his feet, shouting: "A hundred dollars to the one who will take that young devil, dead or alive. Here, Corporal Smith, you have a fleet horse, let me take him," and jumping into the saddle, he was in pursuit, followed by all his men, except Corporal Smith, who stood in the road looking after them.
"What does it mean? What does it mean?" asked the two ladies, who stood on the veranda, wringing their hands, and very much excited.
"Blamed if I know," answered the corporal. "The sight of that young chap seemed to make the captain kinder crazy. The moment he caught sight of him, he called him by name, and banged away at him."
"You say the captain called him by name?"
"Yes."
"Well, he said he knew the captain, and that he was one of his best friends. I can't understand it."
The corporal had no explanation to offer, so went and took a look at the captain's horse. "Bang up shot," he remarked. "Right between the eyes."
In the meantime the pursued and the pursuers had passed out of sight up the road, enveloped in a cloud of dust.
"Remember, boys," shouted Conway, "a hundred dollars to the one who brings him down. Don't attempt to take him alive. Shoot him! shoot him!"
But it was nothing but play for Fred to distance them, and he laughed to think that they expected to catch him. But the laugh suddenly died on his lips; he turned pale, and glanced hurriedly to the right and left. A high rail fence ran on each side of the road. The scouting party of which the negroes spoke was returning. Fred was between the two parties.
Captain Conway saw the other party, and shouted in triumph.
"Now, boys, we have him," and he spurred his horse forward, revolver in hand. There was a look of malignant hatred on his face, and he muttered: "Now, my boy, I will settle scores with you. I shall never take you back to camp. 'Captured a spy, killed while trying to escape.' Ha! ha! how will that sound!"
As for Fred, even in his extremity, his courage or his presence of mind never deserted him. He felt that to be captured by Conway was death, for had not the captain sworn to kill him on sight? His mind was made up; he would wheel and charge the captain's party. He would at least die fighting. Just as he was about to do this, he espied an opening in the fence on the left. As quick as thought he dashed through it, thinking it might afford a chance of escape. Too late he saw hismistake. The field was a perfect cul-de-sac, bounded on all sides by a high rail fence, the only opening the one he had come through.
Through this opening the enemy poured, and when they saw the trap which Fred had entered, their shouts made the welkin ring. They were sure of their prey. Their shouts rang in Fred's ears like the tolling of a funeral bell. So must the bay of hounds sound in the ears of the hunted quarry.
Fred looked at the fence ahead of him. It was built of heavy rails, and full seven feet high. He rode straight for it. Bending over his horse's neck, Fred said: "Prince, it is a question of life or death. Do your best, old fellow; we can but fail."
The horse seemed to understand. He never faltered, never swerved. With distended nostrils, eyes flashing with excitement, and every muscle quivering, he gathered himself for the mighty spring. As lightly as a bird he cleared the fence, staggered as he struck the ground on the other side, then on again like the wind.
Fred turned in his saddle, and uttered a yell of defiance.
"Fire!" shrieked Conway. But the hands of his troopers were unsteady, and the shots went wild. Before his men could dismount and throw down the fence, Fred was beyond pursuit. Captain Conway fairly foamed at the mouth. He raved and swore like a madman.
"It's no use swearing, Captain," said a grizzled lieutenant. "I thought I knew something abouthorses, but that beat any leap I ever saw. Gad! I would rather have the horse than the boy."
"Howly Virgin! it's the divil's own lape," said an Irishman in the company, and he crossed himself.
The baffled troopers returned crestfallen and cross. Captain Conway was so out of temper that even when the ladies asked him if his fall hurt him, he answered angrily.
"Captain," said Alice, somewhat ruffled by his manner, "what is it between that boy and you? He said he knew you, was in fact a dear friend of yours, but you no sooner saw him than you shot at him; and Corporal Smith says you called him by name, so you did know him."
"Alice," replied the captain, "I do not intend to be rude, but I am all put out. That boy is a spy, a mean, sneaking spy. He should be hanged. It was he that discovered our plot at Lexington."
The girl held up her hands in dismay. "And I told him——" She stopped suddenly.
"Told him what?" demanded Conway.
"Oh! nothing, nothing; only what a good fellow you were."
The captain looked at her sharply, and said: "It is well you gave away no secrets."
Fred made his way back to camp with a thankful heart. He told Colonel Garrard of the intended attack, and then started back for the headquarters of General Thomas. It was a long andhard ride, and it was well in the small hours of the night when he arrived. The general was aroused and the news of the expected attack told. He quietly wrote a couple of orders, and went back to his bed. One order was to General Schoepf to at once march his brigade to the relief of Colonel Garrard at Rock Castle. The other was sent to Colonel Connell at Big Hill to move his regiment to Rock Castle, instead of advancing toward London as ordered.
Both orders were obeyed, and both commands were in position on the 20th. General Zollicoffer made his expected attack on the 21st, and was easily repulsed. The battle was a small one; nothing but a skirmish it would have been called afterwards; but to the soldiers engaged at that time, it looked like a big thing. It greatly encouraged the Federal soldiers, and correspondingly depressed the soldiers of Zollicoffer's army.
Fred got back to Rock Castle in time to see the battle. It was his first sight of dead and wounded soldiers. And as he looked on the faces of the dead, their sightless eyes upturned to heaven, and the groans of the wounded sounding in his ears, he turned sick at heart, and wondered why men created in the image of God would try to kill and maim each other. And yet, a few moments before, he himself was wild with the excitement of battle, and could scarcely be restrained from rushing into it.
The next day the army advanced, and passedthe place where Fred met with his adventure, and he thought he would make another visit to Miss Alice Johnson. But that young lady gave him a cold reception. She called him a "miserable, sneaking Yankee," and turned her back on him in disgust. He didn't hear the last of his call on Miss Johnson.
Fred pointed out the place where his horse had leaped the fence, and officers and men were astonished, and Prince became as much a subject of praise as his rider. It was a common saying among the soldiers as he rode by, "There goes the smartest boy and best horse in Kentucky."
When Fred returned to Camp Dick Robinson, he found a letter awaiting him from General Nelson. The general was making a campaign against a portion of the command of General Humphrey Marshall in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, and wrote that if Fred could possibly come to him to do so.
"Of course; go at once," said General Thomas, when the letter was shown him. "I am sorry to lose you, but I think Zollicoffer will be rather quiet for a while, and General Nelson has the first claim on you. I shall always be grateful to you for the service you have rendered me. I trust that it is but the beginning of still closer relations in the future."
It was fated that General Thomas and Fred were to be much together before the war closed.
To his dismay, Fred noticed that the letter of General Nelson was dated the 10th of October, and it was now the last of the month. For some reason the letter had been greatly delayed.
It was known that Nelson was already in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky; therefore no time was to be lost if Fred joined him. Much to his regret, Fred had to leave Prince behind. Afterwards he blessed his stars that he did, for if he had taken the horse he would have lost him forever.
Fred traveled to Cincinnati by rail, and then by boat up the Ohio to Maysville. He found that Nelson had not only been gone from Maysville for some days, but that there was no direct line of communication with his army. Nothing daunted, he determined to follow, and procuring a horse, he started on his journey alone and unattended, and against the advice of the officer in command at Maysville.
"Wait," said that officer, "until we send forward a train. It will be strongly guarded, and you will escape all danger of capture."
But Fred would not wait. He believed it to behis duty to join Nelson as soon as possible. By hard riding, he reached Hazel Green on the evening of the second day, and without adventure. Here he learned that Nelson's command had left the place only two days before, and was now supposed to be at or near Prestonburg, and there were rumors of fighting at that place.
The next morning Fred pressed forward in high spirits, thinking he would overtake at least the rear of Nelson's army by night. Along in the afternoon four cavalrymen suddenly confronted him, blocking the road.
As they all had on the blue Federal overcoat, Fred had not the remotest idea but that they belonged to Nelson's army, and riding boldly up to them asked how far the command was in advance.
"What command?" asked one of the party, who appeared to be the leader.
"Why, Nelson's command, of course," replied Fred, in surprise. But the words were hardly out of his mouth before four revolvers were leveled on him, and he was commanded to surrender. There was no alternative but to submit as gracefully as possible.
"Now, boys," said the leader, "we will see what we have captured. Examine him."
It must be borne in mind that Fred was dressed in civilian clothes, and therefore could not be taken prisoner as a soldier.
The soldiers, after going through his pockets, handed the contents to their leader.
"Ah," said that personage with a wicked grin, "young man, you may go along with us to Colonel Williams. For aught I know, these letters may hang you," and filing off from the Prestonburg road, they took a rough mountain road for Piketon.
Fred afterward found that the four soldiers were a scouting party that had got in the rear of Nelson's army in the hopes of picking up some stragglers, their only reward being himself. As was said, the party consisted of four. The leader, Captain Bascom, was a hooked-nosed, ferret-eyed man, who frequently took deep draughts from a canteen containing what was familiarly known as "mountain dew"—whisky distilled by the rough mountaineers. Being half-drunk all the time added intensity to a naturally cruel, tyrannical disposition.
One of the soldiers named Drake was a burly, red-faced fellow, who seemed to be a boon companion of the captain; at least one took a drink as often as the other. Another of the soldiers answered to the name of Lyle; he was a gloomy, taciturn man, and said little. The remaining one of Fred's captors was a mere boy, not older than himself. He was a bright-eyed, intelligent looking fellow, tough and muscular, and from his conversation vastly above the station in life of his comrades before he enlisted. It was not long before Fred discovered that Captain Bascom took delight in worrying the boy, whose name was Robert Ferror. In this he was followed to a greater or less extent by Drake.Not only this, but when they stopped for the night at the rude home of a mountaineer, Fred noticed that Bob, as all called him, was the drudge of the party. He not only had to care for the captain's horse, but to perform menial service, even to cleaning the mud from the captain's boots. As he was doing this, Bob caught Fred looking at him, and coloring to the roots of his hair, he trembled violently. It was evident that he felt himself degraded by his work, but seeing a look of pity in Fred's eyes, he fiercely whispered, "My mother's niggers used to do this for me," and then he cast such a look of hate on Captain Bascom that Fred shuddered. There was murder in that look.
It was not until the evening of the second day of his capture that Piketon was reached. Along in the afternoon, away to the left, firing was heard, and every now and then, the deep boom of cannon reverberated through the valleys and gorges. Nelson was advancing on Piketon. It made Fred sick at heart to think that his friends were so near, and yet so far.
The knowledge that the Confederates were being driven seemed to anger Bascom, and he drank oftener than usual. Noticing that Bob was talking to Fred as they were riding along, he turned back and struck the boy such a cruel blow in the face that he was knocked from his horse.
By order of Bascom, Drake and Lyle dismounted, picked Bob up, wiped the blood from his face, and after forcing some whisky down histhroat, placed him on his horse. At first he seemed dazed and could not guide his horse. He gradually came to himself, and when he looked at Bascom Fred saw that same murderous look come over his face which he had noticed once before. "Bascom has cause to fear that boy," thought Fred.
When the party rode into Piketon they found everything in the utmost confusion. Preparations were being made to evacuate the place. The soldiers who had been in the fight came streaming back, bringing with them their wounded and a few prisoners. They reported thousands and thousands of Yankees coming. This added to the confusion and the demoralization of the troops.
The prisoners were thrown, for the night, in a building used as a jail. It was of hewn logs, without windows or doors, being entered through the roof, access being had to the roof by an outside stairway, then by a ladder down in the inside. When all were down, the ladder was drawn up, and the opening in the roof closed. The place was indescribably filthy, and Fred always wondered how he lived through the night. When morning came and the ladder was put down for them to ascend, each and every one thanked the Lord the rebels were to retreat, and that their stay in the noisome hole was thus ended. With gratitude they drank in mouthfuls of the fresh air.
The whole place was in a frenzy of excitement. Commissary stores they were not able to carryaway were given to the flames. Every moment the advance of Nelson's army was expected. But as time passed, and no army appeared the panic somewhat subsided and something like order was restored.
That night, the retreating army camped in a pine forest at the base of a mountain. The night was cold and rainy. Black clouds swept across the sky, the wind howled mournfully through the forest, and the cold pitiless rain chilled to the bone. Huge fires were kindled, and around them the men gathered to dry their streaming clothes and to warm their benumbed limbs.
Just before the prisoners were made to lie down to sleep, the boy, Robert Ferror, passed by Fred, and said in a low whisper:
"I will be on guard to-night. Keep awake! Lie down near the guard."
Fred's heart beat high. Was Robert Ferror going to aid him to escape? He watched where the guard over the prisoners was stationed, and lay down as close to him as possible. Soon he was apparently fast asleep, but he was never wider awake. At eleven o'clock Robert Ferror came on guard. He looked eagerly around, and Fred, to show him where he was slightly raised his head. The boy smiled, and placed his finger on his lips. Slowly Ferror paced his beat, to and fro. The minutes dragged slowly by. Midnight came. The officer of the guard made his rounds. Ferror's answer was, "All is well." Another half-hourpassed; still he paced to and fro. Fred's heart sank. After all, was Ferror to do nothing, or were his words a hoax to raise false hopes? The camp had sunk to rest; the fires were burning low. Then as Ferror passed Fred, he slightly touched him with his foot. Instantly Fred was all alert. The next time Ferror passed he stooped as if he had dropped something, and as he was fumbling on the ground, whispered:
"Crawl back like a snake. About fifty yards to the rear is a large pine tree. It is out of the range of the light of the fires. By it you will find arms. Stay there until I come."
Again the sentinel paced to and fro. It would have taken a lynx's eye to have noticed that one of the prisoners was missing, so silently had Fred made his way back.
One o'clock came, and Ferror was relieved. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and still Fred was waiting. Had anything happened to Ferror? there had been no alarm.
"I will wait a little longer," thought Fred, "and then if he does not come, I will go by myself."
Soon a light footstep was heard, and Fred whispered, "Here."
A hand was stretched out, and Fred took it. It was as cold as death, and shook like one with the palsy. "He is quaking with fear," thought Fred.
"Have you got the revolver and cartridge belt?" asked Ferror, in a hoarse whisper.
"Yes."
"Then come." He still seemed to be quaking as with ague.
Silently Ferror led the way, Fred following. Slowly feeling their way through the darkness, they had gone some distance when they were suddenly commanded to halt.
"Who comes there?" asked a stern voice. Ferror gave a start of surprise, and then answered:
"A friend with the countersign."
"Advance, friend, and give the countersign."
Ferror boldly advanced, leaned forward as if to whisper the word in the ear of the guard. Then there was a flash, a loud report, and with a moan the soldier sank to the ground.
"Come," shrieked Ferror, and Fred, horrified, sprang forward. Through the woods, falling over rocks, running against trees, they dashed, until at last they had to stop from sheer exhaustion.
The camp was in a wild commotion. Shouts and oaths filled the air. Men were heard crashing through the forest, escaping as they thought from an unseen foe. But when no attack came, and no other shot was heard, the confusion and excitement began to abate, and every one was asking, "What is it?" No one knew.
"The sound of the shot came from that direction," said the soldier who had taken the place of Ferror as guard.
"There is where I stationed Drake," said the officer of the guard. "I discovered a path leading up the mountain, and I concluded to post asentinel on it. Sergeant, make a detail, and come with me."
The detail was made, and they filed out in the darkness in the direction that Drake was stationed.
"We must have gone far enough," said the officer. "It was about here I stationed him. Drake! Drake!" There was no response.
"Strange!" said the officer. "It is not possible he has deserted, is it?"
He was groping around when he stumbled over something on the ground. He reached out his hand, and touched the lifeless body of Drake. A cry of horror burst from him. The body was taken up and carried back to camp. The officer bent over and examined it by the firelight.
"Shot through the heart," he muttered; "and, by heavens! his clothes are powder burned. Drake was shot not by some prowler, but by some one inside the lines. Sergeant, count the prisoners."
The prisoners, who had all been aroused by the commotion, were huddled together, quaking with fear.
The sergeant soon reported: "Lieutenant, there is one missing; the boy in citizen's clothes."
Colonel Williams, who had been looking on with stern countenance, now asked:
"Who was guarding the prisoners?" The colonel's tones were low and ominous.
"Scott, sir," replied the sergeant of the guard.
"Scott, here!" Poor Scott came trembling in every limb.
"Colonel," said Scott, shaking so he could hardly talk, "before God, I know nothing about the escape of the prisoner. I had not been on guard more than ten or fifteen minutes before the shot was fired. Up to that time, not a prisoner had stirred."
"Did you notice the boy?"
"No, Colonel, I did not. I do not know whether he escaped before I came on guard or after the alarm. The sergeant will bear me witness that during the alarm I stayed at my post and kept the prisoners from escaping. The boy might have slipped away in the confusion, but I do not think he did."
"Whom did you relieve?" asked the colonel.
"Robert Ferror."
"Call Ferror."
The sergeant soon returned with the information that Ferror could not be found.
The colonel bit his lip. He cast his eye over the group of officers standing around him, and then suddenly asked: "Where is Captain Bascom?"
The officers looked blank, then inquiringly into each other's faces. No one had seen him during or since the alarm.
The sergeant of the guard hurriedly went to a rude tent where the captain slept. Pulling aside a blanket which served as a door he entered the tent. A moment, and he reappeared with face as white as a sheet.
"He is dead!" his ashen lips shaped the words, but they died away in a gurgle in his throat.