The sufferings of Noel and Dennis were increased by the feeling of suspense which followed the departure of the chaplain. Rumor had been busy in the camp and had reached even the men in the guard-house concerning the execution of the deserters and the penalty which now might be visited upon the men who were still under guard.
The feeling in the heart of Dennis was more one of anger than of alarm. With Noel, however, uncertainty and fear combined to make the young soldier much cast down. When Dennis occasionally tried to arouse his spirits, the effort of the young Irishman was so manifest that the effect sometimes was the exact reverse of what he had intended.
More and more Noel became alarmed as the hours passed. When the chaplain returned, as he did a few hours later, not even his cheery words could disguise the fact that as yet he had not received any information concerning the two young sharpshooters which would justify the colonel in making an exception of their cases.
When Noel awoke early the following morning he was surprised to find Dennis already busily engaged in writing a letter. And such a letter!
When Noel drew near, he saw that Dennis had taken sheets of foolscap, cutting them lengthwise and had pasted the half-sheets together so that he had a continuous roll that must have been at least thirty feet in length.
"What are you doing?" demanded Noel in surprise.
"Shure, lad, and I'm writin' a letter."
"But to whom are you writing such a letter as that? Do you write on both sides of the paper? It would take more money than you have saved in a month to pay the postage. What are you trying to do, anyway, Dennis?"
"Shure, lad," said Dennis quietly, "I had a letter from me sister in which she says as how I have niglicted the family and niver write a word, so I'm goin' to sind her one letter that she can't say is too short. I'm gettin' near the end of it, though. If you'll wait a minute, lad, I'll read to you the last sintence."
Before Noel could protest Dennis began glibly, "And now, me dear Bridget, I can tell you that I am very happy because the assurance is dawning upon me mind that I am gettin' near the end of my paper. I have only to say that after I have been through the regular number of pitched-battles and hair-breadth escapes and have walked a few hundred miles and chased the Johnnies up and down the hills, perhaps by that time I shall have come really to the ind of this letter and be able to sign me name. If you still think that I'm not writin' long enough letters to you and to mother and the girls, I'll come home just as soon as our business at the front is finished, and from the appearances at the prisent time somethin' is going to happen before I shall have a chance to sign my name."
Dennis looked up from his paper and said, "There, lad, I'm not explainin' to thim what it is that may happen. It'll be time enough for thim to find out that when they have to. But what do you think of me epistle, anyway?"
"Very good."
"What there is of it," replied Dennis, smiling in spite of the fears which held him.
"It's a sort of last will I'm writin', too," added Dennis. "I niver have written a will whin I was goin' into battle the way some o' th' boys do, but whin I have to face the sintence of bein' shot as a desarter, which I niver was, and if the Saints will presarve me, I niver shall be—"
"I heard of a woman back here," broke in Noel, "who made a will and left her shoestrings to her sister."
"Bedad," said Dennis, "I niver thought o' that. 'Tis a good suggestion! I'm goin' to leave mine to Levi Kadoff. There ought to be enough of them to hang him with. Faith, and if I had him here now—"
The conversation of the two young soldiers was interrupted once more by the return of the chaplain. Still he had not received any information and the messenger, who he assured the boys had been dispatched, had not as yet returned.
In spite of the desire of the good man to encourage the boys, and his apparently unshaken confidence that in the end all would be well, the feeling of uncertainty and injustice still possessed both Noel and Dennis. They had been forgotten, they assured themselves, by the men who knew them best and at such a time as this could bring them aid. Of what good was it that they had been selected for positions of danger and had been among the sharpshooters, doing their part in holding back the enemy around Williamsburg and at Malvern Hill?
Even if the desire had been in the minds of the young soldiers, the opportunity to escape was gone. The guard was changed every hour now, and there was no question that the muskets of the marching soldiers were loaded. There was no blank cartridge here.
Noel's strong desire was to receive word from those who knew him. But just where that division of the army now was located he did not know, nor was he positive that there would be an opportunity in the presence of threatening events for an investigation to be made which would relieve him from the charge which was hanging over him.
A third visit from the chaplain still failed to bring the desired news. The depression of the boys was so manifest that the chaplain apparently made a special effort to cheer them.
"There was a little fellow back here near the colonel's tent who somehow made me think of you two boys. You have told me about the little sutler. Let me see, what did you say his name is?"
"Levi. Levi Kadoff," answered Noel.
"Well, this little fellow by the colonel's tent may be the same one. He was a little Jew, who had been shot. A ball had just grazed the tips of two of his fingers and he was howling so loudly that I think you might have heard him here, if you had listened."
"Was he yelling with pain?"
"Oh, no!" laughed the chaplain. "He was crying for a pension. In fact, he was screaming for one. Yes, he wanted two pensions. When I saw him he was holding up the two fingers that had been scratched, and was whining, 'Oh, Scheneral! Oh, Scheneral! how much pensions I gets for heem? I dink I gets two pensions, maybe. One for each finger vat I lose.' A lot of the boys had gathered around the little fellow and they were having a good time as they listened to his complaints."
"Did he say where he was when he was shot?"
"No, I didn't hear anything about that."
"Maybe he is Levi. If he is, and you'll bring him here, Dennis and I soon can tell. Did he have shining black eyes?"
"Yes."
"And curly black hair?"
"Yes."
"And did he weigh about ninety pounds?"
"Not more than that."
"Well, that's Levi; that's Levi, all right," broke in Dennis. "Just bring him here to me, and I'll make him forgit his fingers and his pinsions."
"You may make him forget his fingers, but you never can make him forget his pensions," laughed the chaplain. "That seemed to be the chief thing in his mind. I think I'll try to find out if his name is Levi Kadoff."
"If it is," suggested Noel, "bring the fellow here, but don't tell him what you are bringing him for or that we are here."
"I'll see what I can do," said the chaplain, and a moment later he departed from the tent.
The fact that the kind-hearted officer had made three visits that day to the boys showed his interest in their welfare, but somehow Noel was unable to shake off his conviction that their friend was powerless to aid them. Accordingly he was surprised when an hour afterward the chaplain returned.
"No word yet," he said quietly, as he smiled and shook his head, "but I have some other good news for you. You understand there is nothing to back up the statement which you have made that you were sharpshooters in the Peninsula campaign. Personally, I believe what you tell me. I have at last secured permission for you both to go with an orderly and four men to a place outside the camp where you may show what skill you possess."
"That's the way to talk," spoke up Dennis quickly. His hope had now returned with full force. Indeed, as he afterward explained, he looked upon their discharge as already having been accomplished.
To Noel, however, the privilege was not one which was unmixed with anxiety. In his own skill, in his quiet way, he felt confident, but to make such skill a test of the truth of what he had spoken was another matter. A gun with which he was unfamiliar would be thrust into his hands and the very excitement of the test of itself might be sufficient to prevent him from doing himself full justice.
The chaplain, aware of what was passing in the mind of the young soldier, smiled encouragingly and did not speak.
Dennis, whose joy rapidly increased, had now arrived at a point where his enthusiasm seemed to pass all bounds.
"I'll tell you what to do, yer Riverence," he said to the chaplain. "Just put Noel and me tin yards apart. Let one of us fire and then the other and you'll find Noel's bullet lodged in the barrel of my gun and my bullet in his. That is, if we don't fire at the same time. If we should fire at the same minute the bullets would meet midway and you wouldn't find anything but two flattened pieces of lead."
"Do you often have an experience like that?" inquired the chaplain with a smile.
"Oh, yis, very oftin," answered Dennis solemnly. "Sometimes Noel says to me,' Dennis, me boy, I'm a bit tired this mornin'. Just put a bullet in my gun, please'; and it's easier to shoot one in than it is to have to go through the whole process o' loadin'."
The chaplain said no more, but at once conducted the two young soldiers to the guard which was waiting outside the tent.
No word was spoken as the little band fell in, and at the word of the orderly started in the direction which to Noel's surprise led over the way by which he had come when he had been brought to the camp. As yet he had not been able to obtain from Dennis a connected story of the mishaps of the young Irish soldier, nor of the way by which he had avoided his enemies and at last had been taken as a deserter and confined in the guard-tent.
Noel somehow believed that not even Dennis would have been able to escape from the well in which he had been hidden unless he had received help from outside. But to all inquiries Dennis made evasive replies, and Noel was still unable to understand the mystery with which he had shrouded his doings.
The little band now was on the borders of the place where the division was encamped. The entire region was unfamiliar to Noel, but as he glanced at a low house on the side of the road over which they were passing he was startled when he beheld Levi standing by the little cabin. The little sutler's fingers were bandaged, and as Noel recalled the story which the chaplain related to him and the pleadings of the little Jew for two pensions because he had received a wound in the tips of two fingers, he smiled in spite of the seriousness of the errand upon which he and his companion were going.
Suddenly Levi recognized the two young soldiers in the midst of the little band, and with a scream of rage instantly started toward them.
"I shall see dem hanged," screamed the little sutler; "I shall see dem hanged. Dey steals mine goots. Dey tip ofer mine tent. I shall see dem hanged."
Levi's voice, usually shrill, in his rage now became almost a childish treble. Even his wounded fingers were forgotten for the moment, and he was gesticulating with both hands.
"Shure," exclaimed Dennis, pretending to have difficulty in recognizing the little Jew, "shure, 'tis Levi! My friend, it's lucky for you it's not cold here. You talk so much wid your hands they might be frozen stiff."
Unmindful of the declaration, Levi became still more excited and his hands were moving still more rapidly.
"Yah, I shall see you hanged!" he shouted. "You shall no more steal mine goots! It shall cost you more nor you vould haf paid for mine goots, vot vas so cheap. You shall no more tip ofer mine tent!"
"Levi," said Dennis solemnly, "how many pinsions are you drawin'?"
"I draw no pensions yet," shrieked Levi.
"I understand," said Dennis, "that you are trying to draw two pinsions, one for the scratch you got on each finger."
"I did not scratch mine finger. I haf been shot mit der fingers. I shall draw more pensions, but I shall have mooch joy in seeing you hanged."
The soldiers, under whose charge the boys were being conducted to the place where they were to display their skill with the rifles, were laughing heartily at the impotent rage of the little sutler.
Dennis, in spite of his bantering, did not betray a trace of a smile on his face. As solemnly as if the errand upon which he was going was the sole purpose in his mind, he looked reprovingly at Levi as if his heart was moved by sorrow more than by anger.
"Are you coming with us, Levi?" he inquired.
"Yah, I vill surely come. I shall mit great pleasure see you hanged. You shall no more tip ofer—"
"I say, sergeant," said Dennis, "what are we to have for a target?"
"I don't know," replied the soldier good-naturedly. "We'll find something."
"If you haven't any target ready, I would like to suggest one."
"What is it?"
"I think it would be a great scheme to have this little sutler come along with us and stand him up at a distance of seventy-five yards. Noel, here, can clip one ear an' thin I'll take the other. Thin we'll cut off a part of his nose, though he will have enough left even thin to satisfy any two or three living men—"
A cry of rage, not unmingled with fear, from Levi, interrupted the young Irishman.
"I shall not be von target! you shall be von target!"
"Yes; but, Levi," suggested Dennis, "think what it will mean for you! If Noel cuts off one ear, there's another pinsion. That will be pinsion number three. If I trim your other ear, that will be pinsion number four, and if both of us cut down your nose a little that will be worth more yet. Why, Levi, you'd be a rich man before you would be able to get home. Of course, there may not be very much of you left, but what there is will have a good time to the end of your days."
Perhaps it was the expression which Levi discovered on the faces of the soldiers that caused him to halt abruptly. At all events, he stared for a moment at the young sharpshooters, and then, as the soldiers laughed loudly, he turned quickly and without once glancing behind him ran from the place.
Even the chaplain had not been unmoved by the bantering of Dennis. He was proving himself a friend, indeed, to the two boys, and it had been largely through his solicitation that the opportunity had been gained for them to show whether or not their claims to have been sharpshooters in the Peninsula campaign were trustworthy.
"There comes that little spalpeen ag'in!" cried Dennis suddenly, as he looked back and saw that Levi was following discreetly in the distance. "'Tis well for him he stays behind us, though I think I could put me gun over me shoulder and shut both eyes and not miss the little rascal."
Noel had not taken any part in the badgering of Levi. He was far too anxious concerning his own safety. It is true he was not without hope that before he should be tried by the court-martial his statements concerning his enlistment and service would be obtained and verified and he would be free. But there was so much confusion in the army, and the presence of the enemy was so well known, that he understood an advance was to be speedily ordered, and at such a time it was inevitable that some mistakes should be made and certain duties should be neglected. The greatest danger was that in the midst of such confusion it would be impossible for him to free himself from the charge of desertion which had been brought against him.
At last a position outside the camp was gained, where the little company halted. An improvised target was made of an old and battered white hat which was found in a corner of the fence, whither it had been driven at some time by the wind. This hat was securely fastened to a stake which was driven into the ground at a distance of seventy-five yards from the place where the two young soldiers were stationed.
"Who shall shoot first?" inquired Dennis, who was carefully examining the rifle which had been placed in his hands.
"If you don't care, I should like to," said Noel.
"Go ahead, me lad," assented Dennis. "They won't have the execution until I'm ready to go along with ye."
Noel found the rifle which had been given him a trifle heavier than the one to which he had been accustomed. It was a little more difficult for him to raise it to his shoulder and gain the sight which he desired. However, after testing his gun several times and looking carefully to its loading, he abruptly raised the rifle to his shoulder and apparently without taking careful aim fired at the target in the distance.
"Hold on!" called Dennis, when some of the young soldiers started toward the hat. "Wait until I have my shot."
"If one of you hits the hat, we shall not be able to tell which one did it unless we examine it after each shot," suggested one of the soldiers.
"Just wait a minute," called Dennis, "and you'll see two holes. That will mean that both of us hit it."
Good-naturedly the men consented, and Dennis, whose methods were far different from those of his comrade, brought his gun to his shoulder and took long and careful aim before he fired.
In a moment a part of the little band started swiftly toward the hat, and their exclamations of surprise were loud and many when they discovered that Dennis's promise had been fulfilled. Two balls had pierced the crown of the hat within an inch of each other.
"Just put up that hat again," said Dennis. "And if you like, Noel and me will put some eyes and ears on the old hat until it will look as if some old man's face was peering out of it. This is just to show you that there wasn't any luck in it," he added, as he turned quickly to Noel, who was about to fire the second time.
Again the report of the rifle rang out, and then Dennis speedily followed the example of Noel. When the hat was examined two more holes were found in the crown each about an inch from the place which had marked the spot where the preceding bullets had hit the mark.
"I guess the boys are all right," said the orderly.
"Wait a minute," said Dennis. "We have made a square there now, haven't we?"
"Yes," replied the soldier.
"Well, with three more shots Noel and I will turn the square into a circle and cut out a round piece of the old hat itself."
The suggestion of the young Irishman was followed, and true to his word when three more shots had been fired by each it was discovered that a circle in the crown had been completed by the bullets.
"If the rest of your story is as true as the part which has to do with your shooting, then I guess both you boys are all right," said the orderly cordially. "We haven't a better shot in our regiment."
"Shure, you haven't," said Dennis heartily. "Didn't I tell you that Noel was the best shot in Little Mac's army? Now, if you'll just say the word, sergeant, I would like to have him turn around and fire at the ground under the foot of that little Jew. He paid the piper and he ought to have his dance."
Every man in the group at once turned to look at Levi Kadoff, who in spite of his fears had been creeping nearer, and as the voice of Dennis had not been either low or soft, the effect was magical. Levi prepared to depart without further delay.
Turning to the orderly Dennis said, "Take my gun, sergeant, and just let me catch the little spalpeen, will ye?"
As the chaplain nodded assent in response to the implied question of the sergeant, Dennis laughingly started in swift pursuit of the sutler.
For one moment Levi stared blankly at the approaching young Irishman. Manifestly what he saw was not pleasing, for with a shriek he turned and at his utmost speed tried to escape from the place.
His efforts, however, availed little, for with his longer strides Dennis swiftly gained upon his victim, and in a brief time laid his heavy hand upon the shoulder of the screaming, shrieking Levi. Kicking and striking like an angry child, the sutler did his utmost to break the firm hold which his captor secured upon him. Apparently unmoved and unmindful, Dennis dragged his helpless prisoner back to the place where the soldiers were awaiting him.
"Now, then," said Dennis when he had rejoined his comrades, "we'll make the little spalpeen speak up. What for did you say that Noel and me was disarters?"
"Because you vas deserters!" shouted Levi. "You steals mine goots, you tips ofer mine tent, you—"
"There! there! That will do," said Dennis soothingly. "I'm thinkin' what you need is what Paddy gave the drum."
Helpless in the powerful grasp of Dennis, Levi still shrieked and protested. But in spite of all his efforts, Dennis, seating himself upon a stump, stretched Levi across his lap and soundly spanked him.
When this task had been completed, the howlings of Levi were redoubled. Apparently irritated by the failure of the little sutler to profit by his experience, Dennis lifted his victim from the ground and shook him. As he did so a paper fell to the ground from Levi's pockets, at the sight of which the excitement of the little sutler instantly increased.
"And what's that?" said Dennis as he roughly pushed Levi from him and picked up the paper, which he discovered was an envelope containing a letter.
"It was not for you," screamed Levi. "It vas mine! It vas mine! You steals mine goots. You tips ofer mine tent, but you shall not haf mine letter. It vas from mine moder."
"Wait a minute and I'll see whether it's from your mither or from General Lee," said Dennis tauntingly, as he drew forth the paper from the envelope.
An expression of surprise appeared upon the face of Dennis which quickly changed to one of consternation. Every one in the little band was silent, watching the young Irishman. What at first had been looked upon simply as a rough and not altogether good-natured joke, now seemed to be taking upon itself certain other phases that interested every one present. Even Levi was speechless in his rage. Several times he made as if he was about to flee from the spot, but every time he came back, either fascinated by the action of Dennis, or eager to secure the paper which the young Irishman was holding in his hand.
"Here, sergeant," said Dennis at last, "I think 'tis likely this is for you."
"What is it?" replied the officer as he advanced.
"It looks as if it might be mighty important. 'Tis my opinion that the little spalpeen has been seein' some things he ought not to see and is reportin' what no Johnnie ought to know. Just look at that, will ye!" and Dennis placed the tip of his huge forefinger upon some figures which were written upon the paper.
Taking the sheet from Dennis's hand the sergeant looked keenly at it, and in a moment it was seen that he was as startled and alarmed as had been the young Irish soldier.
Turning quickly about, he saw that Levi manifestly was aware of what was going on in the mind of the officer and was stealthily working toward the woods in the distance.
"Stop that fellow!" ordered the sergeant. "Don't let him get away, not for a minute!"
"Shall we try to catch him?" inquired Noel.
"No, there will be men enough without you. You go after him," he added, turning to some of the others in the band.
Instantly obeying the command a half-dozen men started in swift pursuit of the little sutler, who now was running at his utmost speed. The pursuit was not long continued, however, for just before Levi gained the refuge of the woods he stumbled and fell to the ground. Before he could rise his pursuers were upon him, and in spite of the efforts of the biting, kicking, striking, howling little sutler he was picked up bodily and carried back to the place where the other members of the band were awaiting their return.
"I suspict," said Dennis, as he tauntingly grinned at the helpless prisoner, "that the little spalpeen has some other papers somewhere about him. Maybe he has put thim in the heel of his boot. 'Tis my opinion that he ought to be sarched from head to feet."
"We'll attend to that," said the officer, as he thrust into his pocket the letter which Dennis had secured and at once gave the word to return to the camp.
It was manifest to Noel that the test which had been made of the skill of himself and Dennis, had been a source of deep satisfaction to the chaplain, who now was advancing by his side. Naturally the officer did not make any comment, but his face was beaming, and it was plain that he was almost as pleased as were the boys themselves.
When the party arrived at the guard-tent, and Dennis was free to express his opinions once more, he was not slow to embrace the opportunity.
"'Tis no use at all, at all," he said, "in kapin' Noel and mesilf here. Think of a little spalpeen like Levi Kadoff comin' into the camp and gettin' all he wants to find out and goin' back with it among the Johnnies!"
"That's what he was doing," said Noel. "I wondered what Levi could have to do with Sairy Ann's brother-in-law. He made no bones of the fact that he was a spy, but I never suspected Levi of doing anything of the kind from his own wish. We knew he would sell anything he possessed, whether it was information or clothes, but I never believed that he would go back and forth between the armies and carry news from one to the other."
"I wouldn't be a bit surprised if the little imp had been bringing information here, too."
"Of course he has!" said Noel. "He got paid at both ends of the journey and he wasn't very slow to make much of the chance. I wonder how much he had."
"He hasn't had as much as he will get!" said Dennis positively. "Just listen to that, will ye!"
The roar of great guns in the distance again was distinctly heard, and so threatening was the sound that it did not seem possible to the startled listeners that the men who were engaged in the combat could be far away.
"Listen to that!" repeated Dennis. "That means that we're goin' to be busy just as soon as they take us out of this guard-house."
"I think I would rather be there than here," said Noel, "although I confess that ever since Malvern Hill I have not been eager to go into the sharpshooters' pit."
"You'll be in no sharpshooters' pit here. They don't know enough to count you for what you're worth. If we're fortunate enough iver to get back to the —th, where we belong, there we'll pass for just exactly what we are. The most I want here is just to get out of the guard-tent. I think I can take care of the rest of it mesilf."
The conversation of the young soldiers continued in spite of the repeated sounds of the distant firing. Two hours or more had elapsed, and still no word was brought them, nor had the chaplain returned. Eagerly the boys had talked over the possibilities of Levi being a spy, Dennis firmly contending that there was not "spunk enough in the little spalpeen to do anything for himself." Noel, however, claimed that the former sutler was not without a form of courage of his own.
"There comes the chaplain," said Dennis, after a few minutes more had elapsed. "From the look of him I think he has got something he would like to say to us."
Nor was the young Irishman disappointed. When the chaplain entered the tent his face was beaming and his satisfaction over what he was about to say was so manifest that every one of the inmates was confident good news of some kind had been brought.
"We have just heard from Washington!" said the chaplain eagerly. "We sent a message to President Lincoln informing him just what had been done here,—the number of deserters, who had been hanged, and who had been shot, and how many were on hand, and asked what we should do next."
"Did you tell him about us?" broke in Dennis.
"Yes, we told him about you and the others, too."
"Well, what word did you get? Why don't you out with it, yer Riverence?"
The kind-hearted chaplain laughed and said, "I was just about to say, when you interrupted me, that after we had sent our message to Washington we did not expect to receive word in reply so soon. But the message has just come that the President has received our communication and—"
"The Saints presarve us!" broke in Dennis. "Won't you please tell us what's happened?"
"That's what I am telling you," continued the chaplain. "If you wouldn't interrupt me so frequently you would find out what I have come to say."
"Well, tell us, then!" said Dennis. And although every inmate was silent, the face of every one gave evidence of the eagerness with which he was waiting for the visitor's word.
"We have just received our message," began the chaplain once more, "and I confess that I have a feeling toward the President such as I never cherished before."
"But what did he say?" broke in Dennis.
"Be silent and I'll explain," said the chaplain. "We were not looking for an answer for several hours yet, but to our surprise the messenger has returned and has brought us word that President Lincoln has decided to—"
As the chaplain paused again, Dennis impatiently broke in, "For the love of the Saints in heaven tell us what he has decided to do! I can't stand much more o' this. It isn't the spache we want. It's to know what the Prisident said."
"He has decided to pardon every one of you."
A shout went up from the guard-tent. In their enthusiasm several were for leaving the place at once.
"Hold on," warned the chaplain. "I have no right to let you go. I was permitted to come and bring you the word. You will have to wait until orders come from the colonel before you will be free. It won't hurt you very much to wait a little while because you know you will not have to stay long. It's a great message and I'm glad I am the one to bring it to you. Are you pleased, both of you?"
"In course I'm pleased," said Dennis.
"And how is it with you, Noel?" asked the chaplain keenly as he turned to the other young soldier.
"I didn't want any 'pardon'," declared Noel quietly. "I haven't done anything for which I ought to be pardoned. I have been charged with being a deserter, by a man whose word was taken instead of ours, and, too, he is now said to be a spy. I don't feel like taking a pardon because I haven't done anything which deserves a pardon."
"Don't be foolish, lad," suggested the chaplain. "This matter will all be straightened out. If there is time you may be sent back to the division where you belong, but if there isn't and we have to advance now, there will be plenty of work for you to do before many hours have passed. Don't stand on a little thing like that."
"I don't want to," said Noel, "and perhaps I shall not stay in the guard-tent. I am not made of the stuff of which they used to make martyrs. I appreciate what President Lincoln intended to do, but at the same time I don't want to stay here as one who has been pardoned for something which he never did."
"That will be fixed all right," said the chaplain soothingly. "And just as soon as you receive word from the colonel that you are free, I hope you won't stay here any longer."
"Niver a bit will we stay here any longer," declared Dennis. "You watch me, if you want to! You'll see some dust, but not me nor me feet when I get word to lave this tent."
True to the promise of the chaplain, word was brought in a brief time that a message from the President had been received and that all the deserters had been pardoned on the condition that every man should resume his place in the army and do his duty.
Nor had they been long released before another and more startling experience came. The heavy firing of cannon in the distance had now increased, and it was manifest throughout the camp that preparations for an advance were rapidly being made.
Noel Curtis was standing in front of the colonel's tent listening to the word of that anxious officer, who in response to the request of the chaplain was showing the young soldiers the pardon received from the President.
It was in Noel's mind to inquire concerning the fate of Levi. His own feeling about accepting the pardon which had been offered was unchanged, but in company with Dennis he had gone to the colonel's tent at the suggestion of the chaplain, and with interest was listening to the words of that officer.
Suddenly the clatter of hoofs was heard, and as the men turned sharply about to ascertain the cause, they saw an orderly approaching with the information that the division at once was to advance.
Hastily positions were assigned to Dennis and Noel, who were to report with one of the New York regiments, and the marching orders speedily put other thoughts from their minds.
Almost before the men realized what had taken place, they found themselves marching along a dusty road with the air cool and the confidence of the leaders manifest in many ways that appealed to the boys in blue. Naturally there were rumors of the battle which was expected, but so many similar reports had been current that some of their power to arouse the interest of the army was gone.
Several times the excitement of the advancing troops was increased by the sight of little squads of rebel prisoners that had been taken by the cavalry skirmishing in advance.
One picture appealed with special force to Noel. The horses of the officers of late had fared poorly at the hands of the quartermaster, and now, as the troops halted near a barn, Noel saw several of the half-starved animals within the building enjoying the first oats they had received for days.
As Noel glanced behind him he saw a long column of troops winding around the summit of the mountain over which he and his comrades had just passed. The muskets of the men were glistening in the sunlight. The lines resembled a mighty coil of armed men extending far down the side of the mountain. Indeed, far beyond the place where Noel was standing, it could be seen, and was lost to view only by the winding of the road in the distance. It was the finest view of a marching army he had ever had.
In the loft of the barn were a score or more of Confederates. Some of these unfortunate men were sick, others had been wounded in the recent cavalry skirmishes, and had been left by their comrades as they had fallen back before the advance of the boys in blue. A guard or two was attending to their wants, but every man as he peered out of the windows seemed wan and pale, and the marks of the many privations and the heavy fatigue to which they had been exposed were plain on every side.
The farmer, near whose barn the line had halted, explained that a large body of the rebels had passed his house not long before. The men were ill-clothed and seemed to be in want, he explained. The report of the man, however, did not deceive any of the Yankee soldiers. They were well aware that the "Johnnies" were fierce fighters, and in spite of their scarcity of food and clothing were standing up bravely and persistently. It was Dennis one time who made the remark that "these men might not be inspired of God, but they certainly were possessed of the divil."
Neither of the young soldiers dreamed of the fearful events which were soon to follow. Whether prejudice or ignorance, truth or falsehood, were behind the struggle, there was no question about the tremendous earnestness of both armies.
The Union army, when it entered the little city of Frederick, was surprised as well as delighted at the ovation which it received from many of the people. Shouts and songs and cheers greeted their arrival and continued during their march through the city.
In the doorways of some of the houses girls and young women stood with pails of clear, sparkling water. Many of these enthusiastic girls held glasses in their extended hands inviting the thirsty and dust-covered soldiers to drink.
It was Dennis who said glibly to Noel, when a halt was made beyond the limits of the town, "I can't for the life of me tell what made me so thirsty this afternoon. I think I must have stopped a dozen times for a drink of water."
"Yes, I noticed it," said Noel demurely. "I have never seen anything like this dust. No, and it doesn't seem as if the dust was all that was new, either."
"There's one thing I don't see, though," said Dennis.
"What's that?"
"I don't see any of the big bugs, like the others, standing in the doorways and giving water to our boys as they passed."
"I'm not surprised at that. I don't suppose the people who have money or own slaves can be very enthusiastic over our coming down here to set their slaves free or destroy their property."
"Indade, and I niver once thought o' that," said Dennis.
Near sunset the army halted again, and, wearied by their long march, many of the men flung themselves upon the dust-covered grass by the roadside or underneath the projecting branches of some large trees, and sought a short respite from their labors.
The day was Sunday the 14th of September, 1862. To Noel, his thoughts at such a time naturally recalled the manner in which the day was spent in his far-away home. There all was peace and quiet. About him now, however, were armed men and officers riding past and cannon were being dragged up the dusty road. All these things presented a striking contrast to his vision of peace and quiet.
Noel saw that every one of his comrades was sleeping, not even being aroused by the passing of a body of cavalry or by the stamping of the horses of their officers.
He, too, was about to place his knapsack upon the ground for a pillow when, glancing up the road, to his surprise he saw Dennis running toward him, dragging in his hand a large fallen branch of a tree.
That the young Irishman was about to perpetrate some prank Noel was convinced. Dennis was simply irrepressible. The fatigues of the day, or the thoughts of the battle, in which it was commonly believed the army was about to enter, did not seem to check the exuberant spirits of Dennis O'Hara.
As he approached the place where Noel was seated, suddenly the young Irishman swiftly entered the road and, stamping loudly upon the ground, began to run close to the place where many of the soldiers were sleeping.
Adding to the confusion, Dennis began to shout, "Whoa! Whoa, there! Whoa!" He did not check his own advance, however, and running swiftly, dragged the branch he was carrying over the bodies and faces of some of the sleeping men.
Instantly every one of the soldiers who had felt the touch of the sweeping branch or heard the sound of Dennis's voice sat erect, and then, convinced that a body of horsemen were trampling upon them, quickly leaped to their feet and ran from the place. In spite of their weariness a shout greeted the prank of Dennis and caused the young Irishman to laugh loudly.
"They make me think," said Dennis, "of the old sport who took his gun and traveled two days over the brakes and ferns and up and down the mountains huntin' for a bear. Just at the close of the second day he found the footprints of the old fellow and pretty soon afterward he heard a growl from a rocky ledge that was too close to him for comfort. The man stopped and scratched his head, and turnin' to his brother, who was close behind him, he said, 'Now, look out! These tracks are gettin' a little fresh! I believe I don't want any bear after all, so I'll go back home.' It's a lot of brave men we have been hearin' talk about comin' up to the front and drivin' the Johnnies through every gap in these mountains, but whin a poor harmless boy comes along and shakes a branch of a tree over thim, they are all so scared they don't even stop to find out whether 'tis a Yank or a Reb that's chasin' thim."
It was not long before the march was resumed. The turnpike over which the soldiers moved was broad and smooth, and as the men passed through the rolling country its contrast with that which they had seen in their campaign in the Peninsula was marked by every one.
At the next halt the chaplain, who had proved himself such a warm friend to both of the young soldiers, approached the place where the two boys were seated by the roadside.
"That's General Burnside and his staff over yonder," he explained to Noel. "General Hooker is to lead our division."
"There's going to be a battle surely, isn't there?" inquired Noel.
"I think there is no doubt of it," replied the chaplain, "and I have a strange feeling about this engagement. I know I shall be shot."
"Nonsense!" protested Noel.
"But I shall be. I was shot when I was on the Peninsula almost the first chance I got. I was only slightly wounded there, but this time I shall be killed. I know it."
"Shure, 'tis only a foolish notion that's got into your head," protested Dennis. "Get rid of it, yer Riverence! Cheer up! Shure, you'll come out all right."
"I wish I might think so. If I fall I shall fall doing my duty."
"Niver a doubt about that. Every man of us knows that you won't be shot in the back."
The kind-hearted man soon passed on, but the impression he had made upon the mind of Noel was one which the boy was unable to shake off. He, too, was fearful of the coming contest. He was doing his utmost to repress the feeling and was striving hard to hold himself to the line which had been mapped out for him.
Apparently there were no rebel battalions now threatening the passage. No cannon warned the advancing army from the narrow entrance between the hills which they were approaching. These hills on either side of the pass now were crowned with the glories of the approaching sunset. A few clouds were seen in the sky, and in the distance occasional quick rushes of smoke-puffs arose just above the trees and then the sight was followed by the sound of a heavy boom.
Far to the left there were other puffs, and as they were faintly seen in the distance there were quick responses from the Union artillery.
"Shure," muttered Dennis, "the artillery is beyond and with the help of the infantry they'll drive the Johnnies out o' the way."
A rattle of musketry only faintly heard confirmed the words of the young Irish soldier.
Above them and beyond were forests. Unseen foes without doubt were lurking within the shelter of the great trees. Even now the opposing armies might be preparing to rush madly against each other. Somehow the smooth white turnpike began to lose its peaceful aspect in the eyes of Noel Curtis.
The toiling soldiers, climbing a steep ascent now, were soon aware that between them and the main ascent of South Mountain was an extensive valley.
There were sharp calls from the officers, the line of march was changed from the open turnpike, and the men approached a cornfield upon the hillside.
In the midst of the passage through the field suddenly the great guns of the Confederates opened upon the line with solid shot. Down the hill dashed the army, then swiftly crossing the little valley, began the steady climb of the mountain-side.
A few yards from the base of the mountain was a fence. Below the fence the ground was cleared, while above it the face of the mountain was covered with rocks and trees.
Steadily and surely the boys in blue advanced, and when they had arrived within fifty yards of the place they were seeking, a rapid fire of musketry was opened upon them by the Confederates, who lay concealed behind the fence.
Bullets whistled about their ears. There were shouts and calls from the leaders and loud and prolonged cheers from their willing followers. With a wild shout the men dashed forward. Indeed, their course was almost upward, so steep was the ascent. Volley after volley was poured in upon them, but as yet the brave boys did not heed them and still rushed madly forward.
The Confederates, astonished by the recklessness and the apparent disregard of their bullets, began to give way. Successfully the advancing soldiers gained the fence and then instantly sprang over it. To their surprise, however, their enemies re-formed among the rocks and renewed the fight with unshaken determination.
It was at this time that the chaplain, who had shown his friendship for the boys, accompanied by a young lieutenant, was just springing over the fence when a bullet struck him and he fell back upon the ground.
To the horror of the young soldier he saw that the chaplain was lifeless. The expression upon the face of the dead man was as peaceful as that of one who has fallen asleep in his own home.
The strange declaration which the chaplain had made, that he expected to fall in the fight into which he was about to enter, came back to Noel now and strongly impressed him. It was strange, he thought, that such a premonition should have taken hold upon a man who was so sane and thoughtful.
There was little time, however, for consideration of matters of sentiment. The struggle was not yet ended, and it was plain that the Confederates desperately were holding their ground.
Meanwhile the success which had been won stimulated the Union soldiers, and with shouts and shots they again pressed forward.
Not far before him Noel saw a line of men in gray who were loading and firing steadily, and soon afterward he saw the line begin to waver. Directly in front of his own regiment the men gave way, and several companies from the right pressed forward at one side and in this manner became separated from the regiment itself.
Looking hastily behind him, Noel saw that he and his companions were thirty or forty paces in advance of the main line and now were within twenty or thirty steps of the Confederate soldiers who were on their left. It was plain, too, that the Southern soldiers were not as yet aware of the approaching force.
In a brief time, however, they were dropping as grain falls before a sickle. As Noel watched them a great wave of pity rushed over him. He saw that they were falling by scores.
Suddenly, at the extreme end of the line, he saw a tall man in gray hastily loading his gun. There was no regular command to fire now, and instantly, hardly daring to hope that he was in time, Noel raised his gun to his shoulder and fired. He saw the soldier pitch forward and fall into a crevice between the rocks.
Unable to stop, step by step Noel Curtis with his companions pushed up the steep side of the mountain. It was a marvelous sight to see the determination of the boys in blue and the steady resistance which their opponents offered in such a place.
There was a halt made soon, and then Noel ran swiftly to the place where he had seen the man, at whom he had fired, fall.
When the young soldier arrived at the crevice, he saw the wounded soldier sitting erect, and somehow a feeling of gratitude swept over Noel's heart that the man was not dead.
"Are you wounded?" he inquired hastily, as he stopped a moment.
Without speaking the man mournfully nodded his head in reply. Noel saw that there was a wound in the neck of the soldier and also one in his arm.
"Same bullet," said the Confederate briefly. "I was just ramming a bullet home and had my arm reaching out this way." As he spoke, he rose to his feet and Noel was delighted to find that he was able to walk.
"You understand," said Noel, "that you are a prisoner?"
"I reckon I do," said the Confederate.
"I'll find some one to take charge of you and take you to the rear, where you will be out of danger and where the surgeon can attend to you."
"That's good of you. I reckon you don't know who I am."
The man's face was discolored by smoke and powder, but as he spoke Noel instantly recognized him as the husband of Sairy Ann's sister.
There was no time, however, for further conversation, and as soon as he saw that the prisoner had been placed in charge of one of the boys, Noel threw himself upon the ground and crawled back among the rocks to a position where he was about fifteen paces in advance of his company. His intention now was to act as a sharpshooter, although he had received no orders to that effect.
Cocking his gun he rose abruptly from his position behind the rock, and there, directly in front of him and not ten paces away, he beheld a grim rebel just bringing his gun to aim. His dark eyes seemed to flash fire as they scowled fiercely from beneath the broad brim of a large, ugly hat. He was aiming directly at the young soldier, too, and there was slight chance of escape.
It was impossible for Noel to take careful aim under such circumstances. More quickly than ever before he brought his gun to his shoulder and blazed away, as it seemed to him almost at random, and then dropped instantly behind the protecting rock. He hardly dared to breathe during the excitement. Every part of a second seemed like a long time. There was a fear that the fire of the rebel would reach him before he could gain the protection of the rock, and, just as Noel dropped, the bullet tipped the edge of the stone above his head.
Step by step the enemy now were retiring. Without venturing from the position of safety which he had found, Noel waited until his line advanced.
The enemy still were falling back and the boys in blue still pressed steadily forward. More prisoners were secured and were regularly being conducted to the rear. The bodies of those who had fallen and the wounded were lying among the rocks.
For the first time Noel became aware that night was almost at an end. A feeling of indescribable weariness swept over him. Even the bodies of the fallen men, some of which were within ten feet of the place where he was standing, seemed to be vague and unreal.
The hospitals had been established about halfway down the hill. To them the wounded wherever they were found were still being carried. Gradually the sound of the guns off to the left had been dying away. Ricketts's men were holding the fence, while the regiment in the midst of which Noel Curtis and Dennis had been struggling was resting on its arms. No mounted orderlies could be found, as they had all been withdrawn to other parts of the army. Such horses as were left were secured by being tied to the trees.
After the necessary dispositions for the night had been made, the men, wrapped in their cloaks or having donned their heavier coats, in utter weariness threw themselves upon the ground.
Noel was far from feeling easy in his mind. With his comrades he was fearful that the enemy might make a night attack and was afraid of what might follow in the darkness and confusion.
The issue of the battle on the left was still uncertain and with this feeling of uneasiness still prevalent throughout the regiment the men sought to rest.
In spite of the excitement through which they had passed and in spite of the near-by presence of the dead, not many minutes elapsed before everything was forgotten and every man was asleep.
Awake early the following morning, Noel was surprised to find that his nearest sleeping comrade was Dennis. He had seen but little of the young Irishman thus far in the engagement and, indeed, he had seldom thought of his friend.
Discovering that Dennis was awake, Noel in a low voice said to him, "Dennis, how is it that any of us are left alive?"
"Indade, 'tis a wonder," answered Dennis.
"Not so great, after all," remarked another soldier who was lying near the boys and had heard Noel's question. "The waste of ammunition in a battle is something marvelous. Our colonel told us that it takes almost a man's weight in lead to kill one soldier."
"It doesn't seem so," said Noel thoughtfully, "when you hear the volleys shrieking above your head or flying close to your ears, and when men, all excited and anxious, are trying to fire just as fast as they are able. It doesn't seem possible that so many can come alive out of a fight."
"You must not forget," said the soldier, "that most of the men make no pretense at taking aim."
"And I guess," suggested Dennis, "that most of them don't. They act like they were aiming at nothin' and trying to hit it."
"It is strange," said Noel, "how still the wounded men were. I didn't hear many who were groaning or making any cry. The most of them were either limping off, or being carried to the rear, or they were lying down where they fell, all quiet and still."
"The worst shock I got," suggested Dennis, "was when I stumbled over the bodies of some of the dead boys. That shook my nerves and made me tremble like a leaf."
By this time the army was stirring once more and preparations for the approaching day were being made. The great matter for rejoicing with Noel and Dennis was the fact that there had been no attack by the enemy during the preceding night.
Hasty arrangements were made for the burial of the dead. The young soldier was marvelously impressed by the peaceful expression of most of the upturned faces which he saw.
The first question among the living, however, was, "Where is the enemy?"
In front of the fence which General Ricketts's troops were still holding there was no sign of the Confederates. Indeed, a strange, almost unnatural, silence rested over the entire region. The little stretch between the men and the cornfield seemed to be entirely free from the presence of soldiers. There was a slight mist resting on the mountain-side and through this could be dimly seen the fallen dead of the enemy.
With others Noel had been designated to care for the bodies of his comrades who had been killed in the fight. As he was moving about among the rocks and stumps, suddenly, a slight, boyish form without any weapon and clad in the customary gray uniform of the Confederate soldiers, was seen by Noel kneeling over the body of a fallen man. To his inexpressible horror Noel saw that the man was using his knife and trying to remove a ring from the finger of the dead soldier.
Startled by the approach of Noel, the man suddenly looked up, and, instantly rising, said quickly, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot me! I vas your prisoner."
The feeling of rage and disgust which had seized upon Noel's heart quickly gave way when to his surprise he saw that the approaching man was none other than the little sutler, Levi Kadoff.
Startled as Noel Curtis was by the sight of the little sutler, whom he believed to be true to neither side, his feeling speedily gave way to a great rush of anger. Almost unmindful of what he was doing, Noel rushed upon Levi and seizing him by his shoulders shook the little sutler until both he and his prisoner were nearly breathless.
"You rascal! You little villain! What do you mean by this work? It's bad enough for you to be false to the living, but when you try to rob the dead! I'll try to see that you receive your just deserts!" shouted Noel.
"But—"
"Don't talk!" roared Noel, again shaking his prisoner. "What are you doing here? How did you come?"
Unmindful of the fact that Noel had forbidden his prisoner to speak, and yet at the same time had told him he must explain his presence and actions on the battle-field, he glared into the face of the breathless and frightened Levi in a manner that increased the latter's terror.
"I'll tell you," shouted Noel, "what I'm going to do with you! I'm going to turn you over to the boys after I have told them that you were trying to cut the ring from the finger of one of the dead soldiers! I'll leave you with them. I guess they'll know what to do with you."
"Oh, do not! Please do not! Dey vill be very angry mit me."
"Do you really think so? Maybe so. At all events, I'll turn you over and we'll see what comes."
Securing a firmer hold upon the shoulder of his little prisoner, Noel speedily withdrew from the place and soon placed the miscreant in the hands of the proper authorities.
Only a partial explanation was given by the young soldier, and as he hastened back to his place on the field his anger against the little sutler soon was in a measure forgotten in the task that still confronted him.
The division in which Noel and Dennis were fighting was on the flank of the Union army. Because of this fact they were not among the first to start in pursuit of the Confederates that Monday morning. It was necessary for the greater part of the army to cross South Mountain by one road, the turnpike.
Noel, who had been greatly depressed by the struggle through which he had gone the preceding day, was surprised to find that Dennis and many of his comrades were highly elated. They had succeeded in driving the rebels from the strong position which they had held on South Mountain, and up its steep and rocky sides they had forced their way against fearful odds. If they could do so well where rocks and steep ascents had to be overcome, what might they not be able to do in the valley beyond the mountain?
A spirit of confidence at this time, indeed, of overconfidence, as later events proved, possessed the soldiers. They had jumped to the conclusion already that General Lee had been beaten, and therefore the overwhelming defeats suffered by the Union army at Bull Run now were balanced.
The rejoicing which had come to the army was modified somewhat when the men found that no response was given to their inquiry as to the whereabouts of the enemy. They were not aware that the Confederates at this time had withdrawn beyond South Mountain.
In the task in which Noel had been engaged he had discovered how closely together the desperate charges had brought the men of the two contending armies. There were cases where not more than ten paces intervened between the fence and the place where some of the poor fellows were lying in their last sleep.
In the presence of such scenes the bitterness of the struggle was almost forgotten, and the eyes of the dead, that were staring upward so fixedly in the gray of the morning hour, neither expressed nor aroused any emotion except sorrow.
Unaware of the cause, the young soldier's feelings were somewhat numb from the tension of the preceding hours. Even Levi now was almost forgotten and the husband of Sairy Ann's sister had faded from his thoughts.
At last about ten o'clock, after many protests and much growling on the part of the boys in blue over what they were pleased to call an unnecessary delay, orders were received for the division to be marched toward Boonesborough.
Noel and Dennis were marching side by side, but the most of their comrades were unknown.
As the men advanced, Noel saw that the turnpike far ahead was filled with troops, artillery and wagons that were hurrying up the pass. The fields on either side were white with army wagons and far down the road that extended toward Frederick City a moving, living, advancing tide of men was pushing steadily forward.
Suddenly some one broke into a song, and in a moment "Maryland, My Maryland" was taken up by the soldiers, although the words frequently changed to suit the feelings of the different singers. Even Noel, heavy-hearted as he was, smiled as he heard Dennis shouting, "MyMaryland," with special emphasis upon the "My."
"Dennis, what are you doing?" inquired Noel as the line halted for a brief respite.
"Singin', sor."
"You call that singing, do you?"
"Shure, and what is it, if it isn't singin'?"
"That's what I wanted to find out. That was the reason why I asked my question. If you call it singing, why, I suppose I shall have to take your word for it."
"'Tis a beautiful country," said Dennis as he surveyed the scene which extended far on either side. Fertile fields and a rolling plateau that terminated in the distant hills appeared doubly beautiful in the soft light of that September day.
At their next halt, which was at the home of a family that proved to be loyal to the Union cause, the good woman of the house brought forth all the food she possessed and divided it among the soldiers.
Laughingly she was telling some of the boys in blue of one of her own relatives who had been in her home two days before the battle of South Mountain. Apparently all that he feared was that the demoralized army of the North, which had been driven from the Peninsula and out of Virginia, could not now be induced to enter into a contest.
"We are going to wipe them out this time, once and for all," the man had said. "And then for Philadelphia and New York! These Yankees will find out for the first time what war means when we get into their country! As for Maryland, we'll lose the last man before we'll retreat."
Before day broke that morning this woman had been aroused by a band of half-starved and weaponless men, clad in suits of ragged gray who stopped near her residence begging for food. A panic apparently had seized upon the men. She had heard one of these soldiers say that if he could only be taken prisoner he would be happy. In this crowd she had discovered the relative who confidently and positively had foretold the dire results of the coming battle for the Yankees.
"Why, John, is that you?" she had inquired. "I thought you were going to Philadelphia."
"It's no use talking about that, aunt," he replied foolishly. "We have been badly whipped, and I don't know where a single man or a single gun of my battery can be found to-day."
At this time a small body of men was seen approaching bearing a flag of truce. At its head rode a Confederate surgeon in a gray uniform which had been highly ornamented. On the end of a stick, which he held high, was a white handkerchief. The surgeon was accompanied by four soldiers carrying a blood-stained stretcher, while in charge of the little band was one of the boys in blue. Upon its arrival the leader requested to see the ranking official.
In response to his expressed wish the surgeon was taken to General Hooker and by him was granted permission to secure and bear off the body of one of the rebel colonels, who supposedly had fallen in the fight.
The long waiting by the division continued. Hunger as well as thirst now tormented the men. When the division at last moved forward, it was discovered that the advance then was to be to Keedysville, about six miles distant.
The little hamlet presented a strange appearance upon the arrival of the soldiers. The few stores and hotels were filled to overflowing with men clad in uniform. When night fell it seemed as if the train of wagons that steadily was moving past was almost unending. On the following day, when the men reached Keedysville, their progress was halted by a counter-current of cavalry and artillery moving to the right of what later proved to be a great battle-field.
At this time no one seemed to be positive as to just the position the enemy were occupying. Many of the boys in their enthusiasm believed that they had fled across the Potomac. Such opinions, however, were met by those who believed that the armies were on the eve of a desperate conflict.
When daylight came the following morning (Wednesday September 17, 1862), a frequent discharge of artillery, apparently about two miles to the right, soon gave place to a roar that was incessant, and then every one in the army knew that a battle already was beginning. The straggling little village was filed with orderlies and officers rushing hither and thither on various duties.
The division advanced until it was on the east side of the Antietam Creek. Beyond, were the enemy, flanked by the Potomac River. It seemed at first like an unfavorable position and one filled with deadly peril for the men in gray.
At this time Noel was not able to see any indication of a hidden force in the fields and woods opposite the position where his division had taken their stand. As yet, too, very few missiles had come as far as the place which he and his comrades were occupying. Ambulances could now be seen carrying off the more desperately wounded, or on their way back to the field for their new freights of agony.
The fighting seemed to be going on mostly on the right. The roar of the artillery and of the infantry became louder and more terrifying. As Noel advanced with his comrades he passed improvised hospitals sheltered in a little valley. Farmhouses and barns were all occupied now, and still the stretcher-bearers brought in from the front a constant and fresh addition of suffering men.
It was no time for faint-heartedness, however. Into the smoke and the din of battle, out of which the bleeding forms had come, Noel and Dennis must enter.
So many were the stragglers from the field that the cavalry was brought up and stationed on the Hagerstown Turnpike and with drawn sabers prevented the withdrawal of any more.
On his right Noel saw troops drawn up in line of battle. On his left were other troops in a grove near the road. To his surprise as they advanced he saw some of the troops apparently falling back. A cry passed through the ranks that General Hooker, who was in command of the division, had been wounded and that the right wing had been compelled to fall back. There were rumors also that the enemy far outnumbered the right wing and that there was great danger also for the left.
Beyond all that, Stonewall Jackson, a name that every Yankee soldier had come to respect, had sheltered his reserves behind some rocky ledges and had thrown up long lines of fence-rail breastworks.
A feeling of intense and bitter disappointment now took possession of the Union men. The division was sent ahead and drawn up in line of battle on both sides of the Hagerstown Turnpike. It seemed at that moment as if the Confederate soldiers were about to break through the army of the North and repeat the successes which they had won on the field of Bull Run.
One of the batteries in Noel's division had lost thirty-eight officers and men and twenty-eight horses. Two of his comrades had tried to appease their desperate feeling of hunger by a hoe-cake which they had taken from the haversack of a dead rebel soldier. One general in the division had leaped forward in a critical moment and personally sighted the guns when the enemy was almost upon him. Another general, of a different division, had ordered his brigade to advance, but he himself had remained behind.
Apparently matters once more were moving well, but just as Dennis and Noel were pushing with their comrades into some woods, they found themselves with others confronted by fresh troops who instantly stopped them with volleys so terrible that a retreat was unavoidable. Neither Noel nor Dennis knew at this time that the battle of Antietam really was nearly over. As yet, to both boys there seemed to have been set only the first act of the tragedy.
On the left the din of battle had long been heard and out in front the cannon thundered, and every moment an attack was expected on the division where Noel and Dennis were.
The cavalry now rested upon the ground in long lines. Its ranks were somewhat broken and thin. Steadily in their rear, the various reserves were being stationed to aid in resisting the attack which was expected. The men of each brigade in turn were stacking their arms and then were lying down.