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

away the

whole plateau of Vicksburg if we don't drive him off."

 

"Well, we'll do it. You wait till old Joe Johnston comes up. Then we'll

shut him between the jaws of a vise and squeeze the life out of him."

 

"Hope so. Where've you been?"

 

"Down below the town. I'm coming back with messages."

 

"So long. Good luck. Keep straight ahead, and you'll find all the

generals you want."

 

The lights increased and he went into a small tavern, where he bought

food and a cup of coffee, paying in gold. The tavern keeper asked no

questions, but his eyes gleamed at sight of the yellow coin.

 

"Mighty little of this comes my way now," he said frankly, "and our

own money is worth less and less every day. If things keep on the way

they're headed it'll take a bale of it as big as a bale of cotton to pay

for one good, square meal."

 

Dick laughed.

 

"Not so bad as that," he said. "You wait until we've given Grant a big

thrashing and have cleared their boats out of the river. Then you'll see

our money becoming real."

 

The man shook his head.

 

"Seein' will be believin'," he said, "an' as I ain't seein' I ain't

believin'."

 

Dick with a friendly good night went out. Grant, the persistent, was

still at work. His cannon flared on the dark horizon and the shells

crashed in Vicksburg. Scarcely any portion of the town was safe. Now and

then a house was smashed in and often the shells found victims.

 

The town was full of terror and confusion. Many of the rich planters had

come there with their families for refuge. Women and children hid from

the terrible fire, and the civilians already had begun to burrow. Caves

had been dug deep into the sides of the ravines and hundreds found in

them a rude but safe shelter.

 

Dick now found that his plans were going wrong. He could wander about

almost at will and to any one to whom he spoke he still claimed to be

a Tennesseean, but he knew that it could not last forever. Sooner or

later, some officer would question him closely, and then his tale would

be too thin for truth.

 

Unable to make a way toward the river, he returned to the slopes and

ravines, where they were digging the caves, and then fortune which had

been smiling upon him turned its face the other way. A small man in

butternut and an enormous felt hat passed near. He did not see Dick,

but his very presence gave the lad a shiver. He believed afterward that

before he saw him he had felt the proximity of Slade.

 

The man, carrying a rifle, was hurrying toward the center of the town,

and Dick, after one long look, hurried at equal speed the other way. He

knew that Slade, if he saw him, would recognize him at once. Dusk and a

muddy uniform would not protect him.

 

It was his idea now to go down through the ravines and make another

trial toward the South. He saw ahead of him a line of intrenchments,

which he was resolved to pass in some fashion, but the face of fortune

was still away from him. The unknown officers who at any time might ask

too many questions appeared.

 

A captain, a sunbrowned, alert man, stopped him at the edge of the

bushes which clothed the slopes of the ravine.

 

"Your regiment?" he asked sharply.

 

"Tennessee regiment, sir," replied Dick, afraid to mention any number,

since this officer might be a Tennesseean himself, and would want

further identification. But the man was not to be put off--Dick judged

from his uniform that he was a colonel--and demanded sharply his

regiment's number and his business.

 

The lad mumbled something under his breath, hopeful that he would pass

on, but the officer stepped forward, looked at him closely and then

suddenly turned back the collar of his army jacket, disclosing a bit of

the under side yet blue.

 

"Thunderation, a Yankee spy!" he exclaimed.

 

Dick always believed that his life was due to a sudden and violent

impulse, or rather a convulsive jerk, because he had no time to think.

He threw off the officer's hand, dashed his fist into his face, and,

without waiting to see the effect, ran headlong among the bushes down

the side of the ravine. He heard a shouting behind him, the reports of

several shots, the rapid tread of feet, and he knew that the man-hunt

was on.

 

He had all the instincts of the hunted to seek cover, and the night was

his friend. But few lights glimmered in that portion of Vicksburg, and

in many parts of the ravine the bushes were thick. He darted down the

slope at great speed, then turned and ran along its side, still keeping

well under cover. Where the shadows were darkest and the bushes thickest

he paused panting.

 

He heard his pursuers calling to one another, and he also heard the

excited voices of people in the ravine. The civilians had been aroused

by the shots so close by and he thought the confusion would help him. He

stood in the deep shadow, his breath gradually growing easier, and then

he started down the ravine, coming to a little path that led along

the side of the slope. He noticed a dark opening, and as the voices of

pursuers were now coming nearer, he popped into it, trusting to blind

luck.

 

Dick had thought it was a mere wash-out or deep recess, but at the third

step his foot struck upon a carpet and he saw ahead a dim light. He

paused, amazed, and then he remembered that he had heard about the

civilians digging caves for shelter from the shells and bombs. Evidently

some forethoughtful man had prepared his cave early.

 

Uncertain what to do he did nothing, pressing his back against the earth

and listening. No sound came, and the dim light still flickering ahead

reassured him.

 

The opening through which he had come was large, and admitted plenty

of fresh air. As he stood four or five feet from the entrance he saw

several soldiers hurrying along the path, and he knew they were hunting

for him. He realized then his fortune in finding this improvised

cave-house. After the soldiers passed he walked gently toward the light.

Apparently the regular occupants were gone away for the time, and he

might find a hiding place there until it was safe to go out.

 

The passage was narrow, but the carpet was still under his feet, and

further in, the sides and roof of the earthen walls had been covered

with planks. The light grew brighter and he was quite sure that a room

of some size was just ahead. His curiosity became so great that it

smothered all apprehension, and he stepped boldly into the room, where

the lamp burned on a table.

 

He would have stepped back as quickly, but a pair of great burning eyes

caught his and held them. A bed was standing against the board wall of

the cave, and in this bed lay an old man with a huge bald head, immense

white eyebrows and eyes of extraordinary intensity.

 

Once more did Colonel Charles Woodville and Richard Mason stare into the

eyes of each other, and for a long time neither spoke.

 

"I managed to escape from Jackson with my little family," said the

colonel at length, "and I thought that in this, so to say, sylvan

retreat I might drop all undesirable acquaintances that I made there."

 

The whole scene was grotesque and wild to Dick. It was like a passage

out of the Arabian Nights, and an extraordinary spirit of recklessness

seized him.

 

"I appreciate your words, sir," he said, "and I can understand your

feelings. I have felt myself that it was never wise to go where one

might not be welcome, and yet chance plays us such tricks that neither

your wish nor mine is granted."

 

The old man then raised his head a little higher on the pillow. A spark

leaped from the burning eyes.

 

"A lad of spirit," he said. "I would not withhold praise where praise

is due. I recall meeting some one who resembled you very much. Perhaps a

brother of yours, eh?"

 

"No, he was not my brother."

 

"Well, it does not matter and we will not pursue the subject. How does

it happen that you have come into this hillside castle of mine?"

 

Young Mason saw a flicker of amusement in the eyes of the old man. He

was aware that in his muddy uniform he made no imposing figure, but

his spirit was as high as ever, and the touch of recklessness was still

there.

 

"I saw some men coming down the path," he replied; "men with whom I do

not care to associate, and I turned aside to avoid them. I beheld

the open door and stepped within, but I did not know the chamber was

occupied, and it was far from my purpose to intrude upon you or any one.

I trust, sir, that you will believe me."

 

The lad took off his cap and bowed. His face was now revealed more

clearly, and it was a fine one, splendidly molded, intellectual, and

with noble blue eyes. After all, despite the mud and stains, he made a

graceful figure as he stood there, so obviously confident of himself,

but respectful.

 

The spark leaped again from the eyes of Colonel Woodville, and,

remembering something, there was a slight warmth about the heart which

lately had been so cold and bitter.

 

"I do not blame you," he said. "A lad, one in his formative years,

cannot be too careful about his associates. Doubtless you were justified

in taking advantage of the open door. But now that you are here may I

ask you what you purpose next to do?"

 

"I admit, sir, that the question is natural," replied Dick, suiting his

tone and manner to those of the old man. "I have scarcely had time yet

to form a purpose, but, since the danger of contamination of which we

spoke still exists, it occurs to me that perhaps I might stay here a

while. Is there some nook or a cover in which I might rest? I hope I do

not trespass too much upon your hospitality."

 

Colonel Woodville pondered. His great white eyebrows were drawn together

and, for a moment or two, he gazed down the beak of his nose.

 

"I confess," he said, "that the appeal to hospitality moves me. I am

stirred somewhat, too, by pleasant recollections of the lad who looked

like you. But wait, my daughter is coming. We will confer with her.

Margaret is a most capable woman."

 

Dick heard a light step in the passage and he wheeled quickly. Miss

Woodville was before him, a plain, elderly figure in a plain black

dress, with a basket on her arm. The basket contained a fowl and some

eggs which she had just bought at a great price. When she saw Dick her

hand flew to her throat, but when the pulse ceased to beat so hard it

came away and she looked at him fixedly. Then a slow smile like the dawn

spread over the severe, worn face.

 

"Come in, Margaret, and put down your basket," said the colonel in a

genial tone. "Meanwhile bid welcome to our unexpected guest, a young man

of spirit and quality with whom I was holding converse before you came.

He does not wish to go out to-night, because there are many violent men

abroad, and he would avoid them."

 

Then he turned to Dick, and asked in a tone, sharp and commanding:

 

"I have your word, young sir, that your unexpected visit to our city was

not of a secret nature; that is, it was not of a lawless character?"

 

"An accident, sir, an accident pure and simple. I answer you on my

honor. I have seen nothing and I shall not seek to see anything which I

should not see."

 

"Margaret," continued the colonel, and now his tone became deferential

as behooved a gentleman speaking to a lady, "shall we ask him to share

our simple quarters to-night?"

 

The lad slowly turned his gaze to the face of the woman. He felt with

all the power of intuition that his fate rested on her decision. But she

was a woman. And she was, too, a true daughter of her father. A kindred

spark leaped up in her own soul, and she met Dick's gaze. She noted

his fearless poise, and she saw the gallant spirit in his eye. Then she

turned to her father.

 

"I think you wish him to stay, sir," she said, "and the wish seems right

to me. Our narrow quarters limit our hospitality in quality, but not

in intent. We can offer him nothing but the little alcove behind the

blanket."

 

She inclined her head toward the blanket, which Dick had not