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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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Read books online » Fiction » The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖

Book online «The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖». Author Joseph A. Altsheler



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five-dollar note," said

Sergeant Whitley to Dick, "that the man who laid that ambush was Slade.

He'll keep watch on us all the way to Grant, and he'll tell the Southern

leaders everything the general is doing. Oh, he's a good scout and spy."

 

"He's proved it," said Dick, "and I'd like to get a fair shot at him."

 

They rode nearly all night and most of the next day, and, in the

afternoon, they met other men in blue who told them that a heavy Union

force was advancing. They had no doubt now that Grant's great plan was

already working and in a short time they reached McPherson, advancing

with Logan's division. Hertford reported at once to McPherson, who was

glad enough to have his cavalry, and who warmly praised Dick and the

sergeant for the dangerous service they had done so well. As it would

have been unwise for them to attempt to reach Grant then he kept them

with him in the march on Jackson.

 

Dick slept that night under the stars, but thousands of Union men were

around him and he felt neither the weight of responsibility, nor the

presence of danger. He missed Warner and Pennington, but he and the

sergeant were happy. Beyond a doubt now Grant was going to strike

hard, and all the men were full of anticipation and hope. His force in

different divisions was advancing on Jackson, leaving Vicksburg behind

him and the Southern army under Pemberton on one side.

 

Dick heard, too, that the redoubtable Joe Johnston was coming to take

command of the Southern garrison in Jackson, and a leader less bold than

Grant might have shrunk from such a circle of enemies, but Grant's own

courage increased the spirit of his men, and they were full of faith.

 

"I expect they're alarmed in Washington," said the sergeant, as they

sat on their blankets. "There ain't any telegraph station nearer than

Memphis. They've heard in the capital that the general has begun to move

toward Jackson, but they won't know for days what will happen."

 

"I don't blame the President for being disturbed," said Dick. "After all

the army is to serve the nation and fights under the supreme civilian

authority. The armies don't govern."

 

"That's so, but there come times when the general who has to do the

fighting can judge best how it ought to be done."

 

Dick lay down on one blanket and put another over him. It was well into

May, which meant hot weather in Mississippi, but, if he could, he always

protected himself at night. He was not a vain lad, but he felt proud

over his success. Hertford's six hundred horse were a welcome addition

to any army.

 

He lay back soon with a knapsack as a pillow under his head and listened

to the noises of the camp, blended now into a rather musical note.

Several cooking fires still burned here and there and figures passed

before them. Dick observed them sleepily, taking no particular note,

until one, small and weazened, came. The figure was about fifty yards

away, and there was a Union cap instead of a great flap-brimmed hat on

the head, but Dick sprang to his feet at once, snatched a pistol from

his belt and rushed toward it.

 

The evil figure melted away like a shadow, and two astonished soldiers

seized the youth, who seemed to be running amuck in the camp, pistol in

hand.

 

"Let go!" exclaimed Dick. "I've seen a man whom I know to be a spy, and

a most dangerous one, too."

 

They could find no trace of Slade. Dick returned crestfallen to his

blanket, but he recalled something now definitely and clearly. Slade

was the little man whom he had seen carrying the log the morning he left

General Grant's camp, on his mission.

 

The sergeant, who had never stirred from his own blanket, sat up when

Dick returned.

 

"Who was he, Mr. Mason?" he asked.

 

"Slade himself. He must have seen me jump up, because he vanished like

a ghost. But I gained something. I know now that I saw him here in our

uniform just before I started to find Colonel Hertford. That was why I

was followed."

 

"The cunning of an Indian. Well, we'll be on the watch for him now,

but I imagine he's already on the way to Jackson with the news of our

advance and an estimate of our numbers. We can't do anything to head him

off."

 

On the second day after joining the column Dick was ahead with the

cavalry, riding beside Colonel Hertford, and listening to occasional

shots in their front on the Jackson road. Both believed they would soon

be in touch with the enemy. Sergeant Whitley, acting now as a scout, had

gone forward through a field and in a few minutes galloped back.

 

"The enemy is not far away," he said. "They're posted along a creek,

with high banks and in a wood. They've got a strong artillery too, and I

think they about equal us in numbers."

 

Dick carried the report to the commander of the column, and soon the

trumpets were calling the men to battle. The crackle of rifle shots

ahead increased rapidly. The skirmishers were already pulling trigger,

and, as Dick galloped back to Hertford he saw many puffs of white smoke

down the road and in the fields and woods on either side. The Union men

began to cheer. In the West they had suffered no such defeats as their

brethren in the East, and every pulse beat with confidence. As the whole

line moved forward the Southern cannon began to crash and their shells

swept the road.

 

The cavalry were advancing in a field, but they were yet held back to

a slow walk. Dick heard many impatient exclamations, but he knew the

restraint was right. He saw the accuracy of the Southern gunners. They

were driving the Northern infantry from the road. Their fire was rapid

and deadly, and, for a while, the Union army was checked.

 

Hertford was calmly examining the Southern position through his glasses,

while he restrained his eager men. The volume of Southern fire was

growing fast. Shells and shrapnel rained death over a wide area, and the

air was filled with whistling bullets. It was certain destruction for

any force to charge down the road in face of the Southern cannon, and

the Northern army began to spread out, wheeling toward either flank.

 

An aide arrived with an order to Hertford, and then he loosed his eager

cavalry. Turning to one side they galloped toward the creek. Some of the

Southern gunners, seeing them, sent shells toward them, and a swarm

of riflemen in a wood showered them with bullets. But they passed so

rapidly that not many saddles were emptied, and the trumpeter blew a

mellow note that urged on spirits already willing enough.

 

The sweep of the cavalry charge exhilarated Dick. The thought of danger

passed away for the moment. He saw all around him the eager faces of

men, and horses that seemed just as eager. Dust and dirt flew beneath

the thudding hoofs, and the dust and floating smoke together made a

grimy cloud through which they galloped.

 

They passed around still further on the flank. They seemed, for a few

minutes, to be leaving the battle, which was now at its height, the

Southern artillery still holding the road and presenting an unbroken

front.

 

Dick saw a flash of water and then the whole troop thundered into the

creek, almost without slackened rein. Up the bank they went, and with

a wild shout charged upon the Southern infantry. On the other flank

another Northern force which also had crossed the creek attacked with

fire and spirit.

 

But the battle still swayed back and forth. Hertford and his cavalry

were thrown off, merely to return anew to the charge. A portion of

the Northern force was driven back on the creek. The strong Southern

batteries poured forth death. Dick felt that they might yet lose, but

they suddenly heard a tremendous cheer, and a fresh force coming up

at the double quick enabled them to sweep the field. Before sunset the

Southern army retreated toward Jackson, leaving the field to the men in

blue.

 

Dick dismounted and, examining himself carefully, found that he had

suffered no wound. Colonel Hertford and the sergeant had also taken no

hurt. But the lad and his elder comrade secured but little rest. They

were bidden to ride across the country at once to General Sherman with

the news of the victory. Sherman was at the head of another column, and

Grant was farther away with the main body.

 

Dick and the sergeant, with the battle smoke still in their eyes, were

eager for the service.

 

"When you're with Grant you don't stay idle, that's certain," said Dick

as they rode across the darkening fields.

 

"No, you don't," said the sergeant, "and I'm thinking that we've just

begun. I know from the feel of it that big things are going to happen

fast. Sheer away from the woods there, Mr. Mason. We don't want to be

picked off by sharpshooters."

 

They arrived after dark in Sherman's camp and he received them himself.

Dick remembered how he had seen this thin, dry man holding fast with his

command at Shiloh, and he saluted him with the deepest respect. He knew

that here was a bold and tenacious spirit, kin to that of Grant. Sherman

had heard already of the battle, but he wished more and definite news.

 

"You say that our victory was complete?" he asked tersely.

 

"It was, sir," replied Dick. "The entire force of the enemy retired

rapidly toward Jackson, and our men are eager to advance on that city."

 

"It would be a great stroke to take the capital of Mississippi," said

Sherman musingly. Then he added in his crisp manner:

 

"Are you tired?"

 

"Not if you wish me to do anything," replied Dick quickly.

 

Sherman smiled.

 

"The right spirit," he said. "I wish you and your comrade to ride at

once with this news to General Grant. He may hear it from other sources,

but I want to send a letter by you."

 

In ten minutes Dick and the sergeant were riding proudly away on another

mission, and, passing through all the dangers of Southern scouts and

skirmishers, they reached General Grant, to whom they delivered the

letter from Sherman. Grant, who had recently been in doubt owing to the

threat of Pemberton on his flank, hesitated no longer when he heard of

the victory, and resolved at once upon the capture of Jackson.

 

Dick, after his battle and two rides, went to sleep in a wagon, while an

orderly took his horse. When he awoke unknown hours afterward he found

that he was moving. He knew at once that the army was advancing. Before

him and behind him he heard all the noises of the march, the beat of

horses' hoofs, the grinding of wheels, the clanking of cannon, the

cracking of whips and the sounds of many voices.

 

He was wonderfully comfortable where he lay and he had the satisfaction

and pride of much duty done. He felt that he was entitled to rest, and,

turning on his side, he went to sleep again. After another unknown time

his second awakening came and he remained awake.

 

He quietly slipped out at the tail of the wagon, and stood for a few

moments, dazzled by the blazing sunlight. Then a loud, cheery voice

called out:

 

"Well, if it isn't our own Lucky Dick come back again, safe and well to

the people to whom he belongs!"

 

"If z equals Dick and y equals his presence then we have z plus y, as

Dick is certainly present," called out another voice not quite so loud,

but equally cheery. "Luck, Frank, is only a minor factor in life. What

we usually call luck is the result of foresight, skill and courage.

There are facts that I wouldn't have you to forget, even if it is a hot

day far down in Mississippi."

 

Warner and Pennington sprang from their horses and greeted Dick warmly.

They had returned a day or two before from their own less perilous

errands, but they were in great anxiety about their comrade. They were

glad too, when they heard that the sergeant had joined him and that he

had come back safe.

 

"I suppose it means a battle at Jackson," said Warner. "We're surely on

the move, and we're going to keep the Johnnies busy for quite a spell."

 

"Looks like it," said Dick.

 

Colonel Winchester came soon, and his face showed great relief when he

shook hands with Dick.

 

"It was a dangerous errand, Dick, my lad," he said, "but I felt that you

would succeed and you have. It was highly important that we gather all

our forces for a great stroke."

 

Dick resumed at once his old place in the Winchester regiment, with

Warner, Pennington and his other comrades around him. Refreshed

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