The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖

and never sank again.

 

He fell asleep to the homely music of the frogs among the reeds, and

slept without stir until nearly dawn.

 

Just as the first strip of gray showed in the east Colonel Winchester

walked toward the spot where Dick and his comrades lay. The colonel had

not slept that night. His fine face was worn and thin, but the blue eyes

were alight with strength and energy. He had just left a conference of

high officers, and he came upon a mission. He reached the three lads,

and looked down at them with a sort of pity. He knew that it was his

duty to awake them at once and send them upon a perilous errand, but

they were so young, and they had already been through so much that he

hesitated.

 

He put his hand upon Dick's shoulder and shook him. But it took more

than one shake to awaken the lad, and it was fully a minute before he

opened his eyes and sat up. Dick conscious but partly and rubbing his

sleepy eyes, asked:

 

"What is it? Are we to go into battle again? Yes, sir! Yes, sir! I'm

ready!"

 

"Not that, Dick, but I've orders for you."

 

Dick now awoke completely and saw that it was Colonel Winchester. He

sprang to his feet and saluted.

 

"We'll wake up Warner and Pennington next," said the colonel, "because

they go also on the kind of duty to which you're assigned."

 

"I'm glad of that," said Dick warmly.

 

Warner and Pennington were aroused with difficulty, but, as soon as

they realized that Colonel Winchester was before them and that they were

selected for a grave duty, they became at once keen and alert.

 

"Lads," said the colonel briefly, "you've all felt that we're now led by

a great commander. But energy and daring on the part of a leader demand

energy and daring on the part of his men. General Grant is about to

undertake a great enterprise, one that demands the concentration of his

troops. I want you, Warner, to go to General Sherman with this dispatch,

and here is one for you, Pennington, to take to General Banks."

 

He paused a moment and Dick asked:

 

"Am I to be left out?"

 

Colonel Winchester smiled.

 

He liked this eagerness on the part of his boys, and yet there was

sadness in his smile, too. Young lieutenants who rode forth on errands

often failed to come back.

 

"You're included, Dick," he said, "and I think that yours is the most

perilous mission of them all. Pennington, you and Warner can be making

ready and I'll tell Dick what he's to do."

 

The Vermonter and the Nebraskan hurried away and Colonel Winchester,

taking Dick by the arm, walked with him beyond the circle of firelight.

 

"Dick," he said gently, "they asked me to choose the one in my command

whom I thought most fit for this duty to be done, and I've selected you,

although I'm sending you into a great peril."

 

Dick flushed with pride at the trust. Youth blinded him at present to

its perils.

 

"Thank you, sir," he said simply.

 

"You will recall Major Hertford, who was with us in Kentucky before the

Shiloh days?"

 

"I could not forget him, sir. One of our most gallant officers."

 

"You speak truly. He is one of our bravest, and also one of our ablest.

I speak of him as Major Hertford, but he has lately been promoted to the

rank of colonel, and he is operating toward the East with a large body

of cavalry, partly in conjunction with Grierson, who saved us at the

ford."

 

"And you want me to reach him, sir!"

 

"You've divined it. He is near Jackson, the capital of this state, and,

incidentally, you're to discover as much as you can about Jackson and

the Confederate dispositions in that direction. We wish Hertford to join

General Grant's advance, which will presently move toward Jackson, and

we rely upon you to find him."

 

"I'll do it, if he's to be found at all," said Dick fervently.

 

"I knew it, but, Dick, you're to go in your uniform. I'll not have you

executed as a spy in case you're taken. Nor are you to carry any written

message to Colonel Hertford. He knows you well, and he'll accept your

word at once as truth. Now, this is a ride that will call for woodcraft

as well as soldiership."

 

"I start at once, do I not, sir?"

 

"You do. Warner and Pennington are ready now, and your own horse is

waiting for you. Here is a small map which I have reason to believe is

accurate, at least fairly so, although few of our men know much of this

country. But use it, lad, as best you can."

 

It was a sheet of thick fibrous paper about six inches square and, after

a hasty glance at it, Dick folded it up carefully and put it in his

pocket. Warner and Pennington appeared then, mounted and armed and ready

to tell him good-bye. He and Colonel Winchester watched them a moment

or two as they rode away, and then an orderly appeared with Dick's

own horse, a fine bay, saddled, bridled, saddlebags filled with food,

pistols in holsters, and a breech-loading rifle strapped to the saddle.

 

"I've made your equipment the best I could," said Colonel Winchester,

"and after you start, lad, you must use your own judgment."

 

He wrung the hand of the boy, for whom his affection was genuine and

deep, and Dick sprang into the saddle.

 

"Good-bye, colonel," he said, "I thank you for this trust, and I won't

fail."

 

It was not a boast. It was courage speaking from the heart of youth and,

as Dick rode out of the camp on his good horse, he considered himself

equal to any task. He felt an enormous pride because he was chosen for

such an important and perilous mission, and he summoned every faculty to

meet its hardships and dangers.

 

He had the password, and the sentinels wished him good luck. So did the

men who were gathering firewood. One, a small, weazened fellow, gave him

an envious look.

 

"Wish I was going riding with you," he said. "It's fine in the woods

now."

 

Dick laughed through sheer exuberance of spirits.

 

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't," he said. "Perhaps the forest is filled

with rebel sharpshooters."

 

"If you ride toward Jackson you're likely to strike Confederate bands."

 

"I didn't say where I'm going, but you may be certain I'll keep a watch

for those bands wherever I may be."

 

The little man was uncommonly strong nevertheless, as he carried on his

shoulder a heavy log which he threw down by one of the fires, but Dick,

absorbed in his journey, forgot the desire of the soldier to be riding

through the forest too.

 

He soon left the camp behind. He looked back at it only once, and beheld

the luminous glow of the campfires. Then the forest shut it out and he

rode on through a region almost abandoned by its people owing to the

converging armies. He did not yet look at his map, because he knew that

he would soon come into the main road to Jackson. It would be sufficient

to determine his course then.

 

Dick was not familiar with the farther South, which was a very different

region from his own Kentucky. His home was a region of firm land, hills

and clear streams, but here the ground lay low, the soil was soft and

the waters dark and sluggish. But his instincts as a woodsman were

fortified by much youthful training, and he felt that he could find the

way.

 

It gave him now great joy to leave the army and ride away through the

deep woods. He was tired of battle and the sight of wounds and death.

The noises of the camp were painful to his ear, and in the forest he

found peace.

 

He was absolutely alone in his world, and glad of it. The woods were in

all the depth and richness of a Southern spring. Vast masses of green

foliage billowed away to right and left. Great festoons of moss hung

from the oaks, and trailing vines wrapped many of the trees almost to

their tops. Wild flowers, pink, yellow and blue, unknown by name to

Dick, bloomed in the open spaces.

 

The air of early morning was crisp with the breath of life. He had come

upon a low ridge of hard ground, away from the vast current and low,

sodden shores of the Mississippi. Here was a clean atmosphere, and the

forest, the forest everywhere. A mockingbird, perched on a bough almost

over his head, began to pour forth his liquid song, and from another far

away came the same song like an echo. Dick looked up but he could not

see the bird among the branches. Nevertheless he waved his hand toward

the place from which the melody came and gave a little trill in reply.

Then he said aloud:

 

"It's a happy omen that you give me. I march away to the sound of

innocent music."

 

Then he increased his speed a little and rode without stopping until he

came to the main road to Jackson. There he examined his map upon which

were marked many rivers, creeks, lagoons and bayous, with extensive

shaded areas meaning forests. In the southeastern corner of the map was

Jackson, close to which he meant to go.

 

He rode on at a fair pace, keeping an extremely careful watch ahead and

on either side of the road. He meant to turn aside soon into the woods,

but for the present he thought himself safe in the road--it was not

likely that Southern raiders would come so near to the Union camp.

 

His feeling of peace deepened. He was so far away now that no warlike

sound could reach him. Instead the song of the mockingbird pursued

him. Dick, full of youth and life, began to whistle the tune with the

songster, and his horse perhaps soothed too by the rhythm broke into the

gentle pace which is so easy for the rider.

 

It was early dawn, and the west was not yet wholly light. The east was

full of gold, but the silver lingered on the opposite horizon, and

the hot sun of Mississippi did not yet shed its rays over the earth.

Instead, a cool breeze blew on Dick's face, and the quick blood was

still leaping in his veins. The road dipped down and he came to a brook,

which was clear despite its proximity to the mighty yellow trench of the

Mississippi.

 

He let his horse drink freely, and, while he drank, he surveyed the

country as well as he could. On his left he saw through a fringe of

woods a field of young corn and showing dimly beyond it a small house.

Unbroken forest stretched away on his right, but in field as well as

forest there was no sign of a human being.

 

He studied his map again, noting the great number of water courses,

which in the spring season were likely to be at the flood, and, for

the first time, he realized the extreme difficulty of his mission.

Mississippi was in the very heart of the Confederacy. He could not

expect any sympathetic farmers to help him or show him the way. More

likely as he advanced toward Jackson he would find the country swarming

with the friends of the Confederacy, and to pass through them would

demand the last resource of skill and courage. Perhaps it would have

been wiser had he put on citizens clothes and taken his chances as a

spy! He did not know that Colonel Winchester would have ordered the

disguise had the one who rode on this most perilous mission been any

other than he.

 

The realization brought with it extreme caution. Growing up in a country

which was still mainly in forest, not differing much from its primitive

condition, save for the absence of Indians and big game, he had learned

to be at home in the woods, and now he turned from the path, riding

among the trees.

 

He kept a course some distance from the road, where he was sheltered

by the deep foliage and could yet see what was passing along the main

artery of travel. The ground at times was spongy, making traveling hard,

and twice his horse swam deep creeks. He would have turned into the road

at these points but the bridges were broken down and he had no other

choice.

 

The morning waned, and the coolness departed. The sun hung overhead,

blazing hot, and the air in the forest grew dense and heavy. He would

have been glad to turn back into the road, in the hope of finding a

breeze in the open space, but caution still kept him in the forest.

He soon saw two men in brown jeans riding mules, farmers perhaps, but

carrying rifles on their shoulders, and,