As no response was given his hail, the man waited a brief time and then repeated his summons.
"Come along out o' that! It will be easier for yo' now than it will be if I come in there toe get yo'. It's either fo' yo' toe come out yo'self, or be dragged out by some one else."
Noel was preparing to obey the command when to his surprise he was suddenly aware that both men outside were no longer looking toward the building, but were eagerly watching somebody or something down the road. Almost instinctively the young soldier followed their action, and his fears were increased when he saw approaching from the distance a body of troops. It was impossible, from the place where he was watching, to determine whether the men belonged to the Confederate army or to his own. There were several horses in the band, but whether or not it was a cavalry troop that he saw he was unable to determine.
The men were approaching steadily, and Noel, aware that the attention of Levi and his comrade had been diverted, at least for the moment, suddenly darted through the little door, and without once glancing behind him, at full speed started to cross the open field in the rear of the hut.
He knew he would not long be hidden from the view of the men, but every yard he gained not merely provided an additional incentive for effort, but increased his possibility of escaping.
Without once glancing behind him Noel ran at his utmost speed, leaping over the low rail fence as he came to the border of the field and then heading directly for a stack of straw which stood in the middle of the neighboring field.
As he drew near the weather-beaten pile of straw and glanced behind him, it seemed to him that some of the men had started in pursuit.
He was, however, not positive, but his fears were sufficient to cause him to run quickly to the opposite side of the stack and when he was once more beyond the vision of his enemies he hastily climbed the heap which was not more than fifteen feet in height.
The task was difficult because it was well-nigh impossible for him to gain any firm foothold, but at last he succeeded and did not cease his endeavors until he had gained the summit of the pile. Once there he hastily tore the straw apart, which to his surprise was somewhat loose, and burrowing into the depths soon made a hiding-place large enough to receive him.
Noel's next effort was to tear away the straw which prevented him from obtaining a view of the field over which he had fled, and when he had succeeded in obtaining a peep-hole he saw that his fears were confirmed and that some of the men were approaching from the road.
It was impossible for the troubled boy to know whether the approaching men were searching for him or were planning to pass his hiding-place without giving him any heed. The men were coming in an orderly manner, holding well together, and there were many things to make the excited young soldier hope that he was not the object of their search.
Tremblingly he watched the men as they came nearer and nearer, and when at last a part of the body halted and began an inspection of the straw-stack in which he was hiding, his alarm became great.
In the midst of these men he saw the little sutler, Levi, who was pointing excitedly, first, back toward the road from which they had come, and then toward the intervening distance between the place where he was standing and a house far away.
In response to his appeals a hasty search of the straw-stack was made, the soldiers moving in opposite directions until they had encircled the place. An investigation then was made around the bottom of the pile, apparently no one thinking of looking to the top where the young soldier was concealed. It was evident that the men were in haste and in spite of Noel's fear he was hopeful that they would not remain long.
His expectation was fulfilled, for, after the soldiers had circled the stack and some of their number had tried to discover any possible hiding-places around the base of the pile, the leader shouted, "Come on, boys! We must not waste any more time here. We shan't get to the Gap befo' every Yank has surrendered."
Noel was afraid to lift his head far above the place where he was concealed. Nevertheless, when he heard the sounds of the hoofs of the departing horses, he did venture to look out on the scene before him.
In a body the soldiers were speeding swiftly across the intervening field without once glancing behind them. So interested was Noel in the sight that the presence of the little sutler, for the moment, was forgotten. Levi was not with the soldiers, and when Noel once more drew down into his place of concealment his thoughts were chiefly concerned with the departing enemy.
For a time the young soldier remained quietly in his hiding-place, peering out through the peep-hole he had formed between the straws. He was watching the road near the place where the little hut in which he had hidden was standing. All the time he was fearful of the coming of more men.
His fears were not without foundation, for within a few minutes another band was seen approaching.
Tremblingly the boy watched them as they rode swiftly down the road, but as they did not halt at the fork a feeling of intense relief swept over his heart. It was manifest now that the men who had investigated the straw-stack had turned aside from the regular course which the main body was following.
The thought caused Noel once more to look in the direction in which the men had disappeared. He was unable to discover their presence, however, even the distant house toward which they had been speeding now being to all appearances as harmless as the little cabin in which he had sought refuge.
As we know, Noel's coat was gone and the remaining parts of his uniform had been so discolored by his flight along the muddy roads that he was not without hope that even if he were discovered his clothing would not betray him. The boy was hungry and intensely thirsty. His mouth was parched, and at the time it almost seemed to him that he could endure his torment no longer.
The nearest place where he was likely to obtain relief was the farmhouse in the distance toward which the investigating party had fled. Noel convinced himself that he would incur no risk if he should follow in the same direction, for doubtless the soldiers would not remain about the place; at least, their conversation implied that they were in haste to arrive at some "Gap." The location of any such place was entirely unknown to him.
After he had waited several minutes more, Noel finally decided that he could endure his sufferings no longer. His eyes, ears, and nose seemed to be filled with the dust that had accumulated for months in the neglected stack. His muscles were cramped and sore from remaining so long in one position, as he had not dared to move, for fear of causing some of the straw to slide from its place.
At last he decided that he would attempt to find relief at the far-away house. Slowly and cautiously he climbed from the hole in the stack, frequently pausing to look up and then down the road and make sure that his actions were not observed. As soon as he was convinced that the road was free from his enemies he quickly slipped over the side. As he struck the ground an exclamation escaped him when his fall was broken by the body of a man directly beneath him.
Noel was conscious of a low cry from the man upon whom he had fallen, and then instantly each savagely clutched the other. There was a struggle, which was short and violent, and Noel found himself holding to the ground the body of Levi, the sutler.
"Father Abraham!" ejaculated Levi. "Father Abraham! Let me up! Let me up!"
The surprise of Noel, when he discovered who his captive was, did not detract from his inclination to laugh as he heard the exclamations of the little sutler.
Without rising and still holding his prisoner fast to the ground, Noel said, "What are you doing here, Levi?"
"You vill let me up and I vill leave so quick you shall not see me."
"Before you go I want to know what you're doing here. Were you spying on me?"
"Not von leedle bit. I deed not know you vas here. Father Abraham! Vot a pinch you gif mine arm!"
"You want to be thankful it was only your arm, Levi. Now you tell me what you were doing here!"
"I vas chust stopping for to see vich vay the men vas going."
"What men?"
"Der men vot vas soldiers for the Johnnie Rebs."
"Did you find any of them?"
"Yes, I see some going up mit der road. Dey vas all gone, and den I starts for der house over yonder for to sell somedings vot I carry in mine bag."
"I believe you knew I was here all the time."
"Nefer did I know you vas here. Father Abraham! I vish you vere not here now. If you vill be gone I too vill go so fast you shall not see me in two minutes."
Aware of the perils which recently had threatened him, Noel was not inclined either to prolong the interview or to compel his prisoner to remain longer on the ground. Grasping the little sutler by his shoulder Noel quickly yanked him to his feet, but without relaxing his grasp.
"Levi, what have you got in that bag?" he demanded.
"Somedings vot I sells to the vimmins ven der men vas gone off to the var. Dot vos all. You shall belief mine vord. I chust carry somedings vat cannot be had ven the armies vas so near by."
"Let me see what you have," suggested Noel, as, compelling his prisoner to advance with him he moved toward the bag which Levi had left on the ground near the base of the straw-stack.
"No, I shall not do so!" screamed the little sutler. "You shall not open mine bag. It vas mine."
Noel's suspicions, greatly increased by the manifest alarm of the sutler, were almost strong enough to induce him to send his prisoner away and appropriate the bag. From the expressions he already had heard, he was aware that Levi was playing a dual part, or at least he believed him now to be in the employ of the Confederates.
Before he acted, however, he turned once more to his prisoner and said sharply, "How long since you have been inside our lines?"
"I do not go in der lines of der Yankees," protested Levi. "Dey vas steal mine goots. Dey vas take vat vas not theirs. I lose more nor two hundred dollars ven you and dot Dennis tear mine tent and tip ofer mine goots."
The expression of hatred which appeared upon the sutler's face when he referred to Dennis strengthened the conviction in the heart of Noel that his prisoner certainly did not entertain any cordial feelings for the boys in blue.
Noel, boylike, unmindful of the justice of the little sutler's complaints, was greatly angered at the treachery of his comrade.
"How long since you have been in the Confederate lines?" he demanded sharply.
"I do not go dere either. I have tolt you vat mine peesness vas. I sells mine goots to the peoples vat may be at home."
"All right, then," said Noel. "You let me see what is in your bag, and I'll believe you."
"I shall not trust von Yankee soldier!" screamed Levi. "You shall not open mine bag. I haf already had mine droubles mit der Yankees. Dey tears mine tent and tips ofer mine goots and steals vot vas mine. I shall not open mine bag for you yet von leedle bit."
"Too bad," said Noel, more soberly. "Then I shall have to open it myself, I suppose."
"No! No!" screamed Levi in tones still shriller. "Father Abraham! Father Abraham! I shall call for some helps!"
"Levi," said Noel abruptly, "I think I shall send you away and take your bag myself."
"You shall not do so!" protested the sutler noisily. "You shall not take mine bag! It vas mine, I dells you! It vas not yours. You shall not have it."
"Then let me see what there is in there."
"If I open mine bag von leedle bit, you vill take vot is not yours. I haf known you. You are von of dose Yankee soldiers. Dey tears mine tent and tips ofer mine goots and takes vat vas not theirs. I shall not gif you von chance, not even one leedle bit of a chance."
"I'm sorry," said Noel, "but I'm afraid, then, that I shall have to take it myself." As he spoke Noel moved as if he was about to seize the bag, and instantly the little sutler, rushing savagely upon him, began to kick and strike, and before Noel was prepared to resist the sudden onslaught Levi bit him severely on the hand.
Aroused by the sudden attack and maddened by the pain which Levi's bite had caused, Noel flung the little sutler far from him and eagerly watched him as he rolled over upon the ground.
Almost as nimbly as a monkey the sutler leaped to his feet, and instead of trying to run from the place started once more fiercely at his enemy.
Noel was prepared for the attack now, and as Levi ran savagely upon him he thrust out his right foot and, at the same time giving him a hard push, sent him once more sprawling upon the ground. This time he did not wait for the sutler to recover from his fall but at once advanced and seized his carpet-bag.
The sight of his possessions in the hands of Noel again proved too much for Levi's feelings. In a thin, piping voice he screamed, "Father Abraham! Father Abraham! You shall not steal from mine bag. It vas not yours. You vas like some of dose Yankee soldiers. Dey tears mine tent and tips ofer mine goots and takes vot vas not theirs. I shall shoot!"
Startled by the threat, Noel glanced keenly at Levi, who was almost beside himself with rage, to see if any weapons were upon his person. He had not thought of the sutler as one who would carry firearms of any kind. The man was undersized and was lacking in physical strength. Noel had never thought of him other than as a weakling and one who might obtain his way by deception rather than by force. The thought that he might be armed was startling, and before the man could act Noel leaped forward and, seizing him again, threw him upon the ground, where he satisfied himself that no pistols were in his possession.
"You go back from here the way you came," ordered Noel as he swung his prisoner in his arms and, giving him a violent push, sent him in the direction he had indicated.
But Levi was not to be so easily turned aside from his purpose. Once more he leaped toward his tormentor, who now had taken the carpet-bag in his hands and stood facing him. Screaming, chattering, lamenting, Levi would have been a pathetic object under other circumstances. But Noel was so thoroughly convinced that in the bag which he held in his hands he would find something of value to the leaders of his army that he was determined now to investigate the contents and compel the little Jew to give it over.
Levi's screams of impotent rage and his childish attempts to compel Noel to relax his hold upon the bag were alike without avail. At last the young soldier said more sternly to the angry sutler, "Levi, if you know when you are well off you'll leave this place as I told you. Now, go!"
There was something in Noel's voice that caused Levi to heed the command. Tears were coursing down his cheeks and his two little fists were working very much after the manner of a pump-handle when he saw the expression on the face of his captor, and, aware that further efforts would be useless, he abruptly turned away and, without once glancing behind him, sped swiftly toward the fork in the road from which he had come.
For a brief time Noel watched the man as he sped across the field, and then suddenly, aware that his own problems were sufficient to demand his entire attention, he turned toward the house in the distance.
He had expected to learn from Levi the direction in which the Union troops might be found, but his sudden determination to investigate the carpet-bag, as soon as he discovered that it was not heavy, had changed his plans. Levi was gone and if he possessed the desired information he had taken it with him.
And yet Noel Curtis was aware that his own predicament was such that if other bodies of the Confederate cavalrymen should soon pass along the road, Levi would be able to inform them of what had occurred. If his suspicions were correct, that the contents of the carpet-bag were of considerable value, there would be an added incentive for the little sutler to rescue them.
Perhaps Noel's decision to start toward the house which he saw in the distance was formed simply because it was the only place within sight which indicated the presence of people. His own plight now was such that he keenly felt the need of food and drink. No little streams were near him, and as for food there were no indications that the shallow soil itself had produced any of late.
His determination once fixed, Noel, with the carpet-bag firmly grasped in his hand, moved swiftly across the field toward the distant house.
Twice he stopped and looked back to see whether or not Levi had held to his course. Once he saw the little sutler, but he was moving steadily toward the fork in the road. The second time Noel looked he was unable to see the man anywhere. Concluding that Levi had sought the little building in which he himself had found shelter a short time before, Noel's efforts increased, and he ran swiftly toward the place he was seeking.
When Noel drew nearer the house he was aware of the aspect of neglect and even of dejection that was manifested by every living object within his sight. The two dogs, which came out of the building as soon as they were aware of his approach, were mangy and spiritless. Even the few chickens in the yard seemed to be affected by the general air of desolation. The fence was broken in many places, the gate was lying flat upon the ground, and as for paint or whitewash, it had been long since the house or barns had seen anything of that kind.
The young soldier halted a moment to make certain that no enemies were near the plantation. Satisfied that his fears for the time were without foundation, and still holding firmly to the carpet-bag which he had taken from the little sutler, Noel boldly approached the kitchen door. His purpose now was merely to obtain food, and then to push forward on his way to rejoin the army from which he had been separated so long.
Advancing boldly, he rapped loudly upon the door, which sagged like everything else about the place. All these things were forgotten, however, when he looked into the face of the person who answered his summons.
Before him stood the sister of Sairy Ann, whom he had heard the latter address as 'Liza Jane. That her sympathies were not with the side for which he was fighting Noel well knew, but his great fear as he saw the woman was that her husband might not be far away.
Noel recalled the contempt with which Sairy Ann had referred to her sister as one of the "secesh," and, in spite of his alarm at the discovery of her presence, he smiled as he recalled the sharp declaration of Sairy Ann that in her will she had left her shoestrings to her "beloved sister, 'Liza Jane."
Before he spoke Noel quickly decided that he would try to find out whether or not the woman recognized him. He did not believe that she had seen him when he had been in her sister's house, and yet it was impossible for him to determine whether his confidence was well founded or not.
To all appearances no man was near. What he had taken for the "big house" of a plantation when he had seen the place in the distance, he now saw was only a bare habitation, and the "plantation" had decreased to a few uncultivated and unfruitful acres. The appearance of the woman herself was not unlike that of her surroundings.
"Well," demanded Eliza Jane, "who be yo'? Whar do yo' all come from? What be yo' all doin' here?"
"Is your husband at home?" inquired Noel.
"No; he ain't to home. What do yo' want toe see him fo'?"
"Oh, I don't want to see him; I just wanted to know whether he was here or not. In fact I don't want to see anybody just now," continued Noel, smiling in such a way that the suspicions of the questioner were apparently relieved in part.
"Has Levi been here lately?" asked Noel abruptly.
"Maybe he has and maybe he hasn't," said the woman. "I can't keep track of Sam Tolliver's doin's. He has all kinds of men here. Who is Levi?"
"Why, he is a little sutler that used to be in the Yankee army and now is doing what he can for—"
"I reckon he's been here," spoke up the woman promptly. "What might yo' all want o' him?"
"I don't want anything of him just now," said Noel, his face again lighting up with the smile which won him friends on every side. "What I want now is something to eat. I'm as hungry as a bear and almost as thirsty as I am hungry. Can you help me? I shan't be able to pay you—"
"Who said anything about payin'?" broke in the woman. "I ain't got much fo' toe eat, but I reckon pa't of what I has is fo' yo' all. Come in and set ye down at the kitchen table and I'll see what I can do fo' yo'."
Too hungry and thirsty to delay, Noel promptly accepted the invitation, and after he had washed his face and hands, he eagerly took his place at the table as the woman directed.
The young soldier was well aware that he was in the midst of perils. If the husband of his hostess should return or Levi should come, his position was not one to be envied. Not that he was afraid of either of the men in a personal encounter; but he was unarmed, while the man whom Eliza Jane had called Sam Tolliver was doubtless thoroughly armed and desperate. Besides, if he was playing the part which Noel suspected, and was obtaining information concerning the plans and movements of the Federal troops and reporting the knowledge to the leaders of the Confederates, he was well aware that the man was one to be feared.
Noel's meditations were interrupted by the approach of his hostess who placed some corn-bread and a small jug of molasses upon the table before him.
"'Tis about the best pore folks can have these days," she said. "I don't know how I happened to save that ther' molasses, but Sam never likes his co'n-bread unless he can po' molasses over it, and we had a barrel put in the cellar before the Yanks started all this trouble."
"I don't want to rob you," said Noel.
"Who said anything about yo' robbin' me? I reckon I haven't got much that would pay any robber toe take. If yo' all don't like that molasses, why, jest say so."
"I do like it," said Noel, "and I am grateful to you for giving it to me."
Without further delay the young soldier at once began his breakfast, all the time aware that the woman was watching him with an expression which gave evidence that her feeling was more than mere hospitality.
Finally, unable to resist her curiosity longer, she broke in: "What pa't of the No'th do yo' all come from?"
"How do you know I am from the North? What makes you think that?"
"Jest as soon as I heard yo' all talk," said the woman, "I knew yo' was a Yank. Strange how queer th' Yanks talk."
Noel laughed and did not give expression to his own feeling that the dialect that he had heard in the South had impressed him much the same way as his hostess had been impressed by the voices and words of the Northern soldiers.
"I reckon," she continued, "that yo' all are one of McClellan's men, though what yo' all are doin' over yere is more than I can understand. Yo' all are not looking fo' my man, Sam, are yo'?"
"I assure you that I am not," said Noel promptly. And the young soldier spoke honestly, for of all men Sam Tolliver was the one he least desired to see at the time.
"Run away from the army?" inquired the woman.
"No."
"Well, then, what are yo' all doin' out yere? I see yo' ain't got no coat, but in spite of the dirt I can see that yo' pants is the same as all th' Yankee soldiers wear."
"How far is the Northern army from here?" inquired Noel, without answering her question.
"That's more than I can say. Sometimes they say it's in one place and then again they say it's in 'nother. If Sam was here he could tell yo'. Sam knows more than any man I ever see."
Noel did not explain his suspicions that Sam's knowledge included some things which he knew and some things which he did not know.
"I don't suppose you see very much of him now," he said aloud.
"Not as much as I used toe," said the woman, "though befo' the war Sam used to go out with houn' dogs and be gone days at a time huntin' rabbits. He was a pow'ful good shot."
"He must have kept you pretty well supplied with rabbits," suggested Noel.
"Sometimes he did and sometimes he didn't," replied Eliza Jane. "Sometimes the pesky little varmints would get away befo' Sam had a chance toe fire. They seemed toe know that he was a dead-sure shot."
Noel's suspicions as to the prowess of the wonderful Sam once more were not voiced. He was content if only the woman would feed him and permit him to depart without further trouble.
"Sam says," continued the woman, whose readiness to talk was manifest, "that there isn't goin' toe be much left o' the Yanks pretty quick. He thinks there is goin' toe be some fightin' befo' long and the Yanks will get whipped worse 'n they were at Manassas. I would jes' like toe see my sister, Sairy Ann. I wonder what she'll think of the secesh then. She can keep her old shoestrings if she wants 'em! You know she's my own sister and she's worth a lot of money. Befo' the war she had nigh on toe two hundred dollars. Think of Sairy Ann leaving me in her will nothin' but her shoestrings! I believe she joined the Yanks jest a purpose so she could turn ag'in her own relations. Shoestrings!" snapped the woman, whose recollection of her sister's generosity renewed her feeling of anger.
By this time Noel's hunger had been appeased in a measure and he was eager to be gone. Before he arose from his seat at the table he turned again to his hostess and said simply, "Do you know where the Northern army is?
"I done tole yo'," she replied tartly, "that sometimes 'tis said toe be in one place and sometimes in another."
"Where is it reported to be now?"
"I can't say. Now, if Sam was home—"
Without waiting for further enlightenment as to the knowledge and ability of the missing Sam, Noel said, "Well, if you cannot tell me where the army is, you can tell me the road to take."
"No, I can't. Yo' all might take mos' any road an' the first thing yo' know yo' would run right into McClellan's troops, an' then ag'in yo' might run intoe General Lee's."
"At all events," said Noel, "I'm grateful to you for your kindness to me. You have taken me in, and though I was a stranger—"
"But I ain't been entertainin' no angel unawares," snapped the woman. "You don't look to me very much like a angel, with that mud on yo' pants. I am thinkin', too," she added, as she glanced out of the window, "that it might be well fo' yo' toe start right soon, that is if yo' 're goin' toe go."
"What's the trouble?" demanded Noel, leaping to his feet and running to the side of the woman, where he looked anxiously out of the window.
The statement of Eliza Jane was correct, for a small body of men was moving in an orderly manner up the road. Noel watched them with keen interest, and at first was unable to determine to which side in the conflict they belonged.
His interest changed to alarm when he saw the men abruptly halt, and then, at the command of their leader, turn into the yard leading directly to the house.
The woman by his side had not spoken, but when she exclaimed, "Them's Yanks," Noel also made the discovery at the same moment. The approaching men belonged to his own army, and in the thought of being once more among his friends and comrades the heart of the young soldier suddenly was lightened. Rushing to the door he ran across the yard to meet the boys in blue.
To his consternation as he drew near, he discovered that Dennis was among the number, and also that he was a prisoner. Just what this meant, Noel was unable to conjecture, but his interest in his comrade was speedily banished when to his amazement he saw Levi, the little sutler, also in the company, talking eagerly to the captain and pointing excitedly toward Noel as he spoke.
The subject concerning which the little sutler and the captain were conversing soon became manifest to Noel. The officer turned sharply to him, and as he did so the young soldier was no longer able to discover the presence of Levi in the band.
"There's no use in your trying to get away now," exclaimed the officer.
"'Get away!'" responded Noel, astounded by the suggestion. "That's the last thing in the world I want to do! I have been looking for you or some of the boys in blue for more than—"
"That's a likely story!" interrupted the young captain. "You can explain that to the colonel after we are back in the lines."
"I'm perfectly willing to explain it to the colonel," declared Noel. "And I'll explain it to you now."
"There's no use in that. I'm afraid your explanations won't do you any good."
"What do you think I am?" demanded Noel angrily.
All the men in the band now were listening intently, and Noel was aware that he was under a cloud that might not easily be dispelled.
"I know what you are. You are a deserter."
In spite of the charge Noel laughed, but he was sobered instantly when he saw that every man before him firmly believed him to be what the officer had charged.
"I'm no deserter!" declared Noel hotly. "I happened to be outside the lines at Harper's Ferry and the Rebels took me. I have been doing my best to get to the army ever since."
"You look as if you had been trying," sneered the officer. "Come on. There's no use in talking any more. You come with us and we will turn you over to the colonel."
"Is that man a deserter, too?" inquired Noel as he pointed to Dennis.
"He is. 'Birds of a feather flock together,' I guess that's why we found two of you to-day. There must be a baker's dozen of them altogether. I don't know what will be done with you, but I can tell you one thing, you aren't going to lie on any bed of roses to-night after we get back."
"What makes you think I'm a deserter?" said Noel persistently.
"I don't 'think'; I know. We have absolute proof. Your name is Noel Curtis, isn't it?"
"Yes," replied the young soldier in surprise.
Instantly, however, he concluded that Levi must have revealed his name and the source of the officer's knowledge, therefore, was not unknown.
"We cannot stay here any longer," continued the officer emphatically. "Take your place in the ranks with your friend. Do you know who he is?"
"Indeed, I do!" said Noel, somewhat defiantly. "He and I both belong to the sharpshooters of the —th. You ask Colonel Crawford about us and he'll tell you all you want to know. 'Deserters'! Why, man, we 're no more deserters than you are. We have been trying ever since we left Harper's Ferry—"
"You don't seem to have made very good time even if you did try," sneered the officer again. "Your story sounds fine, but when the colonel listens to what you have to say and then compares your story with the one Levi has to tell, he may have something to say about it himself."
Apparently it was useless longer to try to persuade the captain. When Noel saw the expression on the face of Dennis and was aware that the young Irishman also had failed to plead his cause successfully, he was somewhat heavy-hearted.
"I'll go with you," he said quietly.
"That's mighty good of you," laughed the officer. "You might take your place in there with the other deserter and we'll try to see to it that you don't get very far away again. My advice to you is not to try any more of your tricks."
For a moment Noel looked steadily into the eyes of the sneering young officer. He was furiously angry, and withal was more seriously troubled than he was willing to acknowledge even to himself. Because the men under whom he had served were not now in the vicinity it would be difficult for him to find any one who could recognize him. His father had once met General Hooker, a fact which Mr. Curtis frequently enlarged upon in talks with his boys, but even if admittance could be had into the presence of the general, which was not at all probable, it would not identify the young soldier who was charged with deserting.
Obediently Noel advanced to take the place which had been assigned to him, and as he did so he glanced back at the house, and saw Eliza Jane standing in the doorway and watching with manifest interest the activities of the soldiers whom she professed to hate.
Noel was quite certain that he had a momentary glimpse of Levi standing behind the woman, but of this he could not be positive, as the face speedily vanished and did not again appear. At all events, the treacherous little sutler was not to accompany the men on their way back to camp and, fearful alike of his absence and presence, Noel was in dire straits when at last the command to advance was given and by the side of Dennis he obediently fell into step and marched with the men.
A sound like distant thunder caused Noel to look up hastily. He had heard the sound several times, but as the sky was clear and there were no thunder clouds anywhere to be seen, he had been somewhat puzzled by the rumbling in the distance.
"I guess the boys are up and at it ag'in," suggested Dennis in one of his hoarse whispers.
Startled by the suggestion, Noel glanced sharply at his companion and said, "Fighting?"
"That's what it sounds like."
"Silence in the ranks!" ordered the captain sharply, and both young soldiers became silent as the little band marched forward.
The threatening sound was occasionally repeated, and then after a half-hour or more had elapsed it died away and was not heard again. Ignorant of its cause, Noel's fears were not relieved. The suggestion of Dennis that the sounds came from cannon was undoubtedly correct, and in that event an engagement not far away was even now taking place.
Puzzled as well as alarmed, it was not difficult for the young soldier to decide that the two armies now must be near each other. He had no knowledge of the region through which he was moving, the only place of which he had heard in the vicinity being Frederick City. Just where this was situated, and what the sympathies of its inhabitants were, he did not know.
Noel was aware also that his companion was manifestly in very low spirits. Never before had he seen Dennis so cast down. The sight was depressing, and in spite of his efforts to convince himself that his fears were groundless Noel's confidence was rapidly vanishing as the men advanced.
How far away the main body was lying was another matter of which he was in ignorance.
Refreshed by the food that Eliza Jane had served him he was in better condition to endure a long march, if such a demand should be made upon him, than he had been at any time since he had escaped the attack at Harper's Ferry. It was the unconcealed depression of Dennis that influenced him now.
When he had first been charged with being a deserter he had looked upon the matter as a joke. He was fearful by this time, however, as has been said, that with his friends all in another division of the army or prisoners of the Confederates, it might be impossible for him to prove his identity, at least for a time.
That he was then a regularly enrolled sharpshooter, and in his small way had done faithful service in the Peninsula campaign, was true. But could he convince the captain that his record was clean?
There was no delay in the march. When two hours had elapsed, Noel was surprised to find that they were approaching a camp. This camp, however, was so manifestly only a temporary affair that he easily conjectured that the men practically were under marching orders. Perhaps they had come a considerable distance that very day.
Without waiting for any instructions the young captain directed that Noel and Dennis should be sent to the guard-tent, into which both were somewhat roughly thrust.
To Noel's surprise he found within the tent a half-dozen unfortunate men, and in a brief time, from the confessions which followed, he was aware that every one there was facing a charge of desertion. Indeed, one of the men was describing the treatment which was measured out to those who had deserted from the ranks.
"Most generally," he was saying, "if a man deserts, and is caught again, they make him serve out all the original time of his enlistment without any pay or allowance."
"For instance," suggested another man, "if a soldier has enlisted for four years and deserts at the end of six months, if they should catch him they would bring him back and make him serve three years and six months more without pay, would they?"
"That's it," said the first prisoner. "Sometimes they send the deserters off to Dry Tortugas."
"They might as well banish them from everywhere as to send them there."
"That's right."
"Where is this Dry Tortugas you're talking about?" inquired another.
"It's a group of islands that belong to the United States down near the entrance to the Gulf of Mexico. It's about one hundred and twenty miles southwest of Cape Sable."
"And where is Cape Sable?"
"That's the southern part of Florida. Where is your geography, man? These islands of the Dry Tortugas are very low and swampy, and they are covered with mangrove bushes."
"What are they?"
"Oh, they are something like the banana. Sometimes the deserters there are made to serve a term of years with ball and chain."
"What do you think is going to happen to us?"
"That's not easy to tell. There have been so many men trying to get away that I'm afraid that it will go hard with us."
Noel was listening intently to the conversation, but its effect upon him was not so marked as it was upon Dennis. The fear in the heart of the young Irishman was great, if it could be estimated by the expression which appeared upon his face.
As conversation ceased for a time Noel and Dennis withdrew to a part of the tent where they were by themselves. The face of every man in the tent betrayed his feeling of anxiety. Even Noel, the youngest of the soldiers, was becoming alarmed at the outlook. Far removed from his own regiment, among those who were strangers to him and who knew nothing of his record or even of his presence in the army, the young soldier desperately tried to think of some one to whom he might appeal for aid.
If he had been left free to follow his own wishes he would immediately have sought the colonel and stated his case to that officer. As it was, however, he was not only prevented from seeing the leader, but also was in a position in which his statements would not be accepted without further proof. His anger at the little sutler, who had brought the trouble upon him, became keener, but his very helplessness tended only to increase his anxiety.
The anxiety of the young prisoners would have been much greater if they had known that at this very time Harper's Ferry was about to be taken and the soldiers of the garrison made prisoners. The two great divisions of the Southern army, as we know, had been planning to cross the mountains and reunite at Hagerstown or Boonesborough.
General Jackson, energetic and prompt, successfully carried out the task which had been assigned to him. Indeed, he was as prompt in his actions as was his great commander. On the first day of his advance he marched fourteen miles and that same night decided to cross the Potomac River. The following day he was only four miles west of Martinsburg, and in the morning when he moved upon the little place, to his surprise he found that the garrison already had abandoned the post.
The general quickly resumed his march and on the following day, after his troops had covered more than sixty miles in the four days, he came within sight of the Federal forces.
There was a slight delay now, but on the 13th of September General McLaws reached the hills known as Maryland Heights and at the same time General Walker, who was meeting with no resistance at all, occupied Loudon Heights above Harper's Ferry.
All that night General Jackson was awake, receiving frequent reports from both of his subordinates, and before the morning came he had made all his plans for a combined attack upon Harper's Ferry by all the divisions under his command.
Right at the angle formed by the junction of the Potomac and the Shenandoah Rivers lies Harper's Ferry. To the south were heights which were strongly held by the Union troops. It was in the afternoon of September 14, when at the command of General Jackson the Confederate batteries began to pour a heavy artillery fire upon the Union troops on the heights, and when night fell he had worked his army into such a position that it really commanded both flanks of the Bolivar Heights where these Union soldiers were stationed.
The following morning there was a brief interval of quiet and then General Jackson prepared to assault the heights. But before the attempt was made the Union garrison capitulated.
Not only were more than twelve thousand prisoners secured (for the garrisons which had been stationed at Winchester and at Martinsburg had retired previously to Harper's Ferry), but there also were seventy-three great guns and something like thirteen thousand small arms that became the prizes of the victors.
"Whist!" whispered Dennis, speaking for the first time since the boys had been consigned to the guard-tent. "'Tis a black day for us, I'm thinkin'. 'Tis a foine way, too, to treat the boys that niver thought of desartin'."
"We'll get out of this all right," said Noel, speaking with a confidence he was far from feeling. "They'll have to find out first whether or not we're really deserters before they punish us."
"If I had that little spalpeen, Levi, here, I'd get some satisfaction, anyway! What for do you suppose he told the captain that we were desarters?"
"There's fifty dollars reward offered to any one who will help in the return of a deserter; at least, that's what I have been told," said Noel.
"That explains it, thin," said Dennis confidently. "That explains it all. For fifty dollars that Levi would sell his mother and his whole family."
"Fifty dollars is a good deal of money, Dennis."
"So it is. So it is," acknowledged the young Irish soldier, "but it's a lot more than Levi is worth."
"How much more?"
"Just fifty dollars, to a cint."
The attempt to speak lightly of their troubles, however, was almost pathetic. Both boys were exceedingly anxious and their feelings were not relieved by the manifestly increasing fears of their companions.
It was now early in the afternoon and the guard as yet had not come with their food. Noel had decided that he would await the coming of this man and beg him to obtain permission for him to see the colonel. The boy felt that, if only he could be admitted to the presence of that officer, he would be able to state some things which would lead to the prompt release both of himself and his companion.
There was a long interval, however, before a soldier came to bring their dinner, if hard-tack and water could be dignified by such a term. Neither Dennis nor Noel ate of the food thus provided. Not only were their appetites gone, but their anger had increased as they thought of the way in which they were being treated after their difficult and perilous services all through the campaign on the Peninsula.
The feeling of Dennis frequently found voice in his expressions of anger and disgust. Noel, however, was more controlled in his manner and seldom spoke except in reply to the questions of his comrade.
Noel eagerly had begged the soldier who had brought their dinner to report to the colonel that one of the men was innocent and most earnestly begged permission to explain to him how he had been falsely accused.
He was by no means confident that the soldier would bear his request to the colonel and still less was he hopeful that the colonel would grant him an interview.
He was, therefore, the more surprised when an hour later an orderly came to the tent and said, "Who is the man that asked to see the colonel?"
Instantly three of the inmates replied that they had made this request. To the surprise and consternation of Noel Curtis the orderly simply said, "There will be time for only one and he will have to be quick. I don't see why the colonel waits, anyway. The only place for a deserter is at the end of a rope that's tied so that his feet will be about three feet above the ground. That's the way one of the deserters was served this morning."
"What!" demanded Noel, his face turning pale in spite of his effort to be calm. "Do you really mean to say that a deserter was hanged to-day?"
"That's exactly what I mean to say," said the soldier lightly. "So many men have tried to break loose lately that it has been decided to use stricter measures. Perhaps they will be better to you, though, and instead of hanging you, they will just let you be shot. That's a better way. Leastwise, that's what I would want if I had to take my choice."
"I'm the one," said Noel hastily, "who sent word to the colonel asking for permission to see him."
"He isn't the man!" shouted the other three in unison; and each added, "I'm the man!"
"How will I ever know?" said the orderly as he gazed in confusion first at one prisoner and then at another.
"I'll tell you," suggested Noel. "Ask each man to tell how he sent his message, and the one that gives it right is to be the one who shall have a chance."
"Good!" said the orderly. "How did you send word?" he asked, turning to Noel as he spoke.
"Ask these other men first," suggested Noel. "I was the last one to put in a claim that I had sent word, so let me be the last one to explain how I sent it."
"All right. Now, go ahead, you tell how you sent your word," the orderly demanded as he looked keenly at the oldest of the trio.
"I don't just remember," stammered the soldier. "It seems to me I sent a letter."
"That's what I did, too," said the second. "I wrote a note and sent it by one of the boys."
"And how did you get word to him?" the orderly inquired as he turned to the third man.
"I give it up. I'll own up, too, that I didn't send any word at all, though I wanted to. Perhaps I took the wish for the deed."
"Now explain how you sent your message," said the soldier as he again turned to Noel.
"I sent it by the man who brought us our dinner to-day."
"That's right. You're the boy. You come with me."
Without any delay Noel was conducted by the orderly to the tent of the colonel, and soon was admitted.
He remained standing near the table upon which the officer was writing. The colonel did not even glance at his visitor for a time as he continued his task. At last, however, he looked up and said abruptly, "Well, what is it?"
"I have come to tell you," said Noel, somewhat embarrassed in spite of his determination to be self-controlled, "that I have been accused of being a deserter."
"Oh, you're the man who sent word by Dan Tague."
"I don't know the man's name," said Noel respectfully.
"Well, he brought your message. And you say you are not a deserter?"
"Yes, sir."
"But you cannot prove it?"
"I can and I will if you'll give me a little time."
"But I have positive information here," said the colonel, taking a paper from his pocket, "that youarea deserter. It states that you and another man named Dennis O'Hara both deserted at Harper's Ferry and were discovered not far from here this morning by Captain Blowers."
"I don't know the captain's name, Colonel," said Noel. "I did not desert at Harper's Ferry. I was outside the lines—"
"What were you doing outside the lines?" interrupted the colonel.
"I was foraging."
"Was any one with you?"
"Yes, sir. Dennis O'Hara."
"Ah, ha! Then the story is true that you both were outside the lines?"
"Yes, sir! that's true, although it isn't true that we deserted."
"To what regiment do you belong?"
"To the —th."
"To which company?"
Noel gave the number of his company.
"Who was your colonel?"
"Colonel Crawford."
"That's correct," said the officer. "All these things tally. I have a statement here that you and—your name is Noel Curtis, is it not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I have a statement here that Noel Curtis and Dennis O'Hara, both belonging to Company —— of the —th regiment deserted just before the attack on Harper's Ferry."
"Colonel, may I ask you who made that statement?"
"The sutler is the one who informed us."
"Did any one else tell you?"
"I think so. I haven't all the papers here and I have no time to go into details about this. Have you served long?"
"We enlisted last spring, my brother and I. We were both in the Peninsula campaign. My brother was sick and went home on a furlough."
"Where is your home?"
"In New York State, on the border of the St. Lawrence River. My brother and I were both sharpshooters."
The colonel smiled incredulously as he looked at the young soldier, but all he said in reply was, "I have nothing but your unsupported word for this, while I have the testimony of others against you. The fact that you were outside the lines at Harper's Ferry is against you, and it's just about as black when Captain Blowers reports that he was informed by reliable witnesses that you are a deserter and were seen several times skulking about the region. We are compelled to make examples of these men right now, or we shan't have anybody left to stand against Lee. You'll have to find better reasons for convincing me than you have given this afternoon."
"Will you make some investigations, Colonel?"
"No, not now. There is no time. Do you hear those guns?" he demanded as the roar of distant cannon was heard. "We may be ordered to advance at any time. Meanwhile I must give my men a good lesson, and I cannot do it in a better way than by making an example of such men as you."
"Don't you believe what I have told you?"
"I don't," said the colonel tartly. "Your story is just about as plausible as the one young Naylor told me before I had him hanged."
Noel's face became pale as he heard the statement lightly repeated by the colonel that some one had been hanged that very day for desertion. He was aware, however, from the attitude of the officer and the abrupt manner in which he turned again to his writing that there was little use in trying further to plead his cause. Turning about, Noel, still under the guard of the orderly, left the tent and was conducted back to the place where he had been confined with his companions.
Depressed as Noel was by his recent interview with the colonel, he nevertheless was surprised when he approached the tent to find that the guards had been changed. The young soldier was not yet aware that when deserters were put under guard certain selected men were stationed with loaded muskets about the tent of those who had been condemned. Every two hours the guard was relieved.
Nor was any soldier ever compelled to stand guard over a deserter from his own company or regiment. Naturally it was very difficult for one comrade to be compelled to enforce so severe a rule as that which was applied to men who deserted, when the guilty comrade, perhaps, was a schoolmate, a relative, or even a brother. Besides, there was the continual fear of the officers that if such men were placed in charge there would naturally be the danger of a plot or a plan for the escape of those who were condemned. It was for this reason that Noel and Dennis, in any event, would have been assigned to a guard-tent in some company in which they were not likely to have any acquaintances, or even any friends among its members.
As soon as Noel entered the tent, Dennis was aware from the expression of his face that his mission had not been successful.
"What is it, lad?" he whispered as he drew the young soldier to one side.
Noel shook his head as he replied, "The colonel wouldn't believe a word."
"The colonel is as bad as that little spalpeen, the sutler!"
"I wouldn't mind it so much," said Noel, "if they would first really find out what the truth of the charge is, but it seems that they have taken the word of Levi, and now anything we can say doesn't seem to count for much against it."
"But they'll give us a trial. They'll hold a court-martial before anything is done," protested Dennis.
"I hope so," said Noel. "I don't know how it will be held, or how fair a show we'll have. It's the only square way, though, and if it's possible I am going to try to make an appeal. I have thought of sending for the chaplain. I think he might be able to do something for us if any man in the regiment can."
"Who is the chaplain?"
"I don't know who he is, but we'll be able to find that out later."
A low conversation which followed between the inmates of the tent revealed the fact that several of the men already had been tried and condemned by court-martial for desertion. Every one was bitter against those who had passed sentence upon him. Noel was surprised to find that the men were all claiming, what he himself had asserted as the cause for the mistake in his arrest, that some one had brought a false charge against them.
Not unnaturally both the young soldiers were depressed when darkness came on, and Noel was unable to sleep. Mortified by the charge as well as anxious, he lay with wide-open eyes staring in the dim light at the top of his tent and wondering what the following day would bring forth. The sound of guns in the distance, the restlessness that was manifested among the soldiers, the evident interest with which the colonel was reading some dispatches that he had received, as well as the severity with which the so-called deserters were being treated, all combined to make the young soldier confident that stirring action was speedily expected.
The following morning dawned wonderfully clear. When Dennis awoke the sun was shining brightly and the morning air was soft and still.
When the boys first arose they were startled at the presence of two ambulances in front of their tent. In each of these ambulances there was a rough coffin of wood. That these gruesome objects should have been brought to the place where the prisoners under the charge of desertion were confined at first had not been suggestive to Noel. He was soon aware, however, what the explanation was, and his face became pallid when he heard two of his companions ordered to advance and each man to take his seat on a coffin. A detail of soldiers had been assigned to draw these two ambulances and in solemn silence were awaiting the coming of the condemned men.
Noel Curtis shuddered when one of the prisoners, stepping lightly into the ambulance, seated himself upon the long box, and, rapping upon the wood, turned to some of the watching soldiers and flippantly said, "Boys, can't you put some shavings or something a little softer in my box? It looks as if it might be a pretty hard nest to rest in."
Instead of laughter or applause greeting his coarse remarks, the silence and disgust of the assembled soldiers seemed to react with solemn force upon the condemned man. At last the word was given and the cavalcade departed, leaving the remaining prisoners in the guard-tent dumb with the horror of the event.
Difficult as Noel Curtis had found it, in his previous experiences in the campaign on the Peninsula, to control his feelings when he found that he was actually shooting at a human being, that experience was by no means equal to the suffering which he now was undergoing.
There might be some justification for men making targets of one another when some great issue had been raised, but the young sharpshooter was now fully aware that war was no holiday game. His heart rebelled against many of the things which he saw, and yet the supreme issue of it all and the fact that war had been declared and accepted, and that there was no relief or release until one side or the other in the great conflict had won its victory, could not be ignored.
His thoughts now were centered upon the men who had been taken away from the tent for their execution. The presence of the detail implied that both men were to be shot, a method of execution not quite so revolting as that by hanging.
Some of the men under sentence in the guard-tent seemed to be dumb with fear, while others more stolidly expressed their complaints over the outcome of the court-martial which had been held for the two condemned men the preceding day.
Several times when shots were heard near the place where the division was in camp, Noel fancied that the report was that of the guns of the men who had been detailed to shoot the two deserters.
In his interview with the colonel the young soldier had been informed that desertion was becoming so frequent in the army at this time that orders for the sternest measures to break it up had been issued. No man now might expect any mercy who should flee from his post of duty.
Sometimes homesickness had been the cause of the men leaving their comrades. The thoughts or recollections of family and friends in the far-away North had produced a longing in the midst of the monotony of the camp work and of the army life that had been too strong for some to resist. Others, however, had become tired of the service when the novelty of the first days was gone and had fled simply to evade the difficulties and drudgery which are a part of the campaign of any army. Whatever the cause may have been, the fact could not be denied, and Noel Curtis understood fully the reasons for the sterner measures which now were being used. Perhaps they might be justified, he thought, although the unspeakable horror which had appeared in the expression on the faces of the two condemned men, when at last they were taken from the tent, was something which he was positive he never would be able to forget.
Somehow the morning passed. The guards were changed more frequently, and it was evident to the waiting men that they had not been forgotten in the midst of the excitement of the army in the knowledge that the enemy was not far distant.
"I thought you were going to send for the chaplain?" suggested Dennis to Noel when an hour or more had elapsed.
"So I am," said Noel promptly. "I had not forgotten it. It doesn't seem to me, though, that any man will be able to help us much, when the colonel is not willing even to hear what we have to say for ourselves. It seems to me that they ought to give us credit first of all for being honest. But his plan apparently is to believe a man guilty and then let him prove his innocence, if he is able."
"Niver you fear, lad. The chaplain will be able to help us out."
"We'll ask to see him, anyway," said Noel.
Accordingly, when the guard next was called, Noel succeeded in attracting the attention of the sergeant and made known his desire to receive a visit from the chaplain. Such a visit, he was aware, was permitted, and he was not without hope that the coming of this man might be of assistance to him and his hardly beset comrade.
Nearly an hour elapsed before the chaplain appeared. He was a young man, and in his face there appeared an expression of friendliness. Noel was drawn to him at once, even before he heard the somewhat abrupt and loud tones of his voice.
"What can I do for you?" asked the chaplain, not unkindly, as he entered the tent and was informed that Noel was the inmate who had requested the visit.
"I wanted to see you and tell you my story," said Noel quietly. "I am here under a false charge."
The interest of the chaplain instantly became less keen, as Noel discovered to his dismay.
"That's what every man says," responded the chaplain quietly.
"Well, it's true in my case. Did those poor fellows who were taken out this morning say they were not to blame?"
"They surely did," said the chaplain. "I wish I was able now to forget the horror of that scene. A hollow square was formed and the two coffins were placed in the open part. I shall never forget the moment when the adjutant-general stepped out into a position a little in front of the center of the square. He's a strong man and not much given to sentiment, but his voice trembled, although it was clear and strong, when in the presence of all the soldiers he read the finding of the court-martial."
"It must have been hard for the men who had been detailed," suggested Noel in a low voice.
"It was. You understand, however, that the guns used by the provost guard on occasions like that are always loaded by men who have been appointed for that special purpose. It never would do in the world to let the soldiers load their own guns."
"Why not?"
"Why, it's more than likely that they would use blank cartridges. No one wants to be responsible for the death of a man even if he is under sentence. That's the reason why the guns never are loaded by those who are to do the shooting. However, they all know that a blank cartridge has been placed in one of the guns, but they are never told which one it is. This plan makes every man believe that his gun contained the blank cartridge and that it was not his shot which killed the prisoner. While the adjutant-general was reading the finding of the court-martial the two men had to stand up. As soon as the officer had finished reading, both men were ordered to kneel on their coffins and a paper heart was pinned on the coat of each."
"What is a 'paper heart?'" asked Noel.
"Why, it's just a quarter of a sheet of ordinary notepaper. It's white, you know, and provides a mark for the men who are usually selected because they are good shots. One of these poor fellows, after he had been blind-folded, shouted, 'Boys, shoot me here,' as he put his hand upon his heart. 'Don't make any mistake, either!' I don't know whether the rest of the men heard the final order of the provost guard or not. His voice sounded to me as if it might have been a quarter of a mile away, it was so indistinct, but somehow he managed to call out—'Ready!' 'Aim!' 'Fire!'"
"Did they find the paper hearts?" inquired Noel, almost in a whisper.
"Yes, both the poor fellows fell forward on their faces and never breathed again."
Dennis O'Hara, who had been listening to the words of the chaplain, although he had not taken part in any of the conversation, could restrain his fears no longer.
"But, yer Riverence," he said, "why should they treat an innocent man like that? I'm tellin' ye that we're the most loyal boys in Little Mac's army. We're both sharpshooters and we both did our part down on the Peninsula. Now to be set up here and shot down like a couple of dogs! Why, instead of desartin', we just were doin' our best to escape from the Johnnies. 'Tis pretty hard! The colonel won't listen to a word! We can prove it to him, everything we say."
"Is that so?" inquired the chaplain, turning to Noel for confirmation.
"It is, sir," replied Noel.
"I don't know that anything can be done," said the chaplain. "It would be horrible to make such a mistake as that. You are entitled to a trial, anyway. Where is the man who made the charges against you?"
"I don't know," said Noel, "but I don't think he's here. My belief is that he is a spy, anyway, and part of the time is in the other army."
"Let me take the number of your company and regiment and I shall very gladly see what can be done. I don't want you to build your hopes too high, but you may rest assured that I shall do for you all that is in my power."
As soon as their visitor had jotted down in his notebook the few facts and figures which he asked for, he at once left the tent.