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

noticed

before. It hung near the bed and, wishing to cause this household little

trouble, he said:

 

"Then I assume that you will shelter me for the night, and, if I may, I

will go at once to my room."

 

Colonel Woodville lowered his head upon the pillow and laughed softly.

 

"A lad of spirit. A lad of spirit, I repeat," he said. "No, Margaret,

you and I could not have turned him from our earthen roof."

 

Dick bowed to Miss Woodville, and that little ghost of a tender smile

flitted about her thin lips. Then he lifted the blanket, stepped into

the dark, and let the curtain fall behind him.

 

He stood for a space until his eyes, used to the dusk, could see dimly.

It was a tiny room evidently used as a place of storage for clothing and

bedding, but there was space enough for him to lie down, if he bent his

knees a little.

 

The strain upon both muscle and nerve had been very great, and now came

collapse. Removing his shoes and outer clothing he dropped upon a

roll of bedding and closed his eyes. But he was grateful, deeply and

lastingly grateful. The bread that he had cast upon the waters was

returning to him fourfold.

 

He heard low voices beyond the blanket, and he did not doubt that they

were those of Colonel Woodville and his daughter. The woman in plain

black, with the basket on her arm, had seemed a pathetic figure to him.

He could not blame them for feeling such intense bitterness. What were

the causes of the war to people who had been driven from a luxurious

home to a hole in the side of a ravine?

 

He slept, and when he woke it seemed to be only a moment later, but he

knew from the slender edge of light appearing where the blanket just

failed to touch the floor that morning had come. He moved gently lest

he disturb his host in the larger room without, and then he heard the

distant thunder, which he knew was the booming of Grant's great guns.

And so the night had not stopped them! All through the hours that he

slept the cannon had rained steel and death on Vicksburg. Then came a

great explosion telling him that a shell had burst somewhere near. It

was followed by the voice of Colonel Woodville raised in high, indignant

tones:

 

"Can't they let a gentleman sleep? Must they wake him with one of their

infernal shells?"

 

He heard a slight rustling sound and he knew that it was the great bald

head moving impatiently on the pillows. Inferring that it was early, he

would have gone back to sleep himself, but slumber would not come. He

remained a while, thoughtful, for his future lay very heavy upon him,

and then he heard the sound of several voices beyond the blanket.

 

He listened closely, trying to number and distinguish them. There were

three and two belonged to Colonel Woodville and his daughter. The third

repelled and puzzled him. It seemed to have in it a faint quality of the

fox. It was not loud, and yet that light, snarling, sinister note was

evident.

 

The sensitive, attuned mind can be easily affected by a voice, and the

menace of the unknown beyond the blanket deepened. Dick felt a curious

prickling at the roots of his hair. He listened intently, but he could

not understand anything that was spoken, and then he drew himself

forward with great caution.

 

They must be talking about something of importance, because the voices

were earnest, and sometimes all three spoke at once. He reached a slow

hand toward the blanket. The danger would be great, but he must see.

 

He drew back the blanket slightly, a quarter of an inch, maybe, and

looked within the room. Then he saw the owner of the sinister voice, and

he felt that he might have known from the first.

 

Slade, standing before Colonel Woodville's bed, his hat in his hand, was

talking eagerly.

 

CHAPTER X. THE GREAT ASSAULT

 

The light from the door that was always open illumined the room. The

rising sun must have struck full upon it, because it was almost as

bright as day there. Slade was in his butternut uniform, and his rifle

leaned against the wall. Now that he had made the slight opening Dick

could understand their words.

 

"There are spies within Vicksburg, sir," said Slade. "Colonel Dustin

detected one last night, but in the darkness he escaped down this

ravine. The alarm was spread and he could not have got outside our

lines. I must catch him. It will be a credit to me to do so. I was under

your command, and, although not in active service owing to your wound,

your word will go far. I want you to get me an order to search every

house or place in which he could hide."

 

"Not too much zeal, my worthy Slade. Talleyrand said that, but you never

heard of him. Excessive suspicion is not a good thing. It was your chief

fault as an overseer, although I willingly pay tribute to your energy

and attention to detail. This business of hunting spies is greatly

overdone. The fate of Vicksburg will be settled by the cannon and the

rifles."

 

"But, sir, they can do us great harm."

 

"Listen to that, my good Slade."

 

The deep booming note of the distant cannon entered the cave.

 

"That is the sound of Grant's guns. He can fight better with those

weapons than with spies."

 

But Slade persisted, and Colonel Woodville, with an occasional word

from his daughter, fenced with him, always using a light bantering tone,

while the lad who lay so near listened, his pulses beating hard in his

temples and throat.

 

"Your vigilance is to be commended, my good Slade," Dick heard Colonel

Woodville say, "but to-day at least I cannot secure such a commission

for you from General Pemberton. We hear that Grant is massing his troops

for a grand attack, and there is little time to thresh up all our own

quarters for spies. We must think more of our battle line. To-morrow we

may have a plan. Come back to me then, and we will talk further on these

matters."

 

"But think, sir, what a day may cost us!"

 

"You show impatience, not to say haste, Slade, and little is ever

achieved by thoughtless haste. The enemy is closing in upon us, and it

must be our chief effort to break his iron ring. Ah, here is my nephew!

He may give us further news on these grave matters."

 

Dick saw the entrance darken for a moment, then lighten again, and

that gallant youth, Victor Woodville, with whom he had fought so good a

fight, stood in the room. He was still pale and he carried his left arm

in a sling, but it was evident that his recovery from his wound had been

rapid. Dick saw the stern face of the old colonel brighten a bit, while

the tender smile curved again about the thin lips of the spinster.

 

Young Woodville gave a warm greeting to his uncle and elderly cousin,

and nodded to Slade. Dick believed from his gesture that he did not like

the guerilla leader, or at least he hoped so.

 

"Victor," said the colonel, "what word do you bring?"

 

"Grant is advancing his batteries, and they seem to be massing for

attack. It will surely come in a day or two."

 

"As I thought. Then we shall need all our energies for immediate battle.

And now, Mr. Slade, as I said before, I will see you again to-morrow

about the matter of which we were speaking. I am old, wounded, and I

grow weary. I would rest."

 

Slade rose to go. He was not a pleasant sight. His clothes were soiled

and stained, and his face was covered with ragged beard. The eyes were

full of venom and malice.

 

"Good day, Colonel Woodville," he said, "but I feel that I must bring

the matter up again. As a scout and leader of irregulars for the

Confederacy. I must be active in order to cope with the enemy's own

scouts and spies. I shall return early to-morrow morning."

 

Colonel Woodville waved his hand and Slade, bowing, withdrew.

 

"Why was he so persistent, Uncle Charles?" asked Victor. "He seemed to

have some underlying motive."

 

"He always has such a motive, Victor. He is a man who suspects everybody

because he knows everybody has a right to suspect him. He may even have

been suspecting me, his old, and, I fear, too generous employer. He has

a mania about a spy hidden somewhere in Vicksburg."

 

Young Victor Woodville laughed gayly.

 

"What folly," he said, "for your old overseer, a man of Northern origin

to boot, to suspect you, of all men, of helping a Yankee in any way.

Why, Uncle Charles, everybody knows that you'd annihilate 'em if you

could, and that you were making good progress with the task until you

got that wound."

 

Colonel Woodville drew his great, white eyebrows together in his

characteristic way.

 

"I admit, Victor, that I'm the prince of Yankee haters," he said.

"They've ruined me, and if they succeed they'll ruin our state and the

whole South, too. We've fled for refuge to a hole in the ground, and yet

they come thundering at the door of so poor an abode. Listen!"

 

They heard plainly the far rumble of the cannon. The intensity of the

fire increased with the growing day. Shells and bombs were falling

rapidly on Vicksburg. The face of Colonel Woodville darkened and the

eyes under the white thatch burned.

 

"Nevertheless, Victor," he said, "hate the Yankees as I do, and I hate

them with all my heart and soul, there are some things a gentleman

cannot do."

 

"What for instance, Uncle?"

 

"He cannot break faith. He cannot do evil to those who have done good to

him. He must repay benefits with benefits. He cannot permit the burden

of obligation to remain upon him. Go to the door, Victor, and see if any

one is lurking there."

 

Young Woodville went to the entrance and returned with word that no one

was near.

 

"Victor," resumed Colonel Woodville, "this man Slade, who was so

preposterously wrong, this common overseer from the hostile section

which seeks with force to put us down, this miserable fellow who had

the presumption to suspect me, lying here with a wound, received in the

defense of the Confederacy, was nevertheless right."

 

Victor stared, not understanding, and Colonel Woodville raised himself a

little higher on his pillows.

 

"Since when," he asked of all the world, "has a Woodville refused to

pay his debts? Since when has a Woodville refused asylum to one who

protected him and his in the hour of danger? Margaret, lift the blanket

and invite our young friend in."

 

Dick was on his feet in an instant, and came into the chamber, uttering

thanks to the man who, in spite of so much bitterness against his cause,

could yet shelter him.

 

Young Woodville exclaimed in surprise.

 

"The Yankee with whom I fought at Bellevue!" he said.

 

"And the one who ignored your presence at Jackson," said Miss Woodville.

 

The two lads shook hands.

 

"And now," said Colonel Woodville, his old sharpness returning,

"we shall be on even terms, young sir. Your uniform bears a faint

resemblance to that of your own army, and Slade, cunning and cruel, may

have had you shot as a spy. You would be taken within our lines and this

is no time for long examinations."

 

"I know how much I owe you, sir," said Dick, "and I know how much danger

my presence here brings upon you. I will leave as soon as the ravine is

clear. The gathering of the troops for battle will give me a chance."

 

"You will do nothing of the kind. Having begun the task we will carry it

through. Our cave home rambles. There is a little apartment belonging

to Victor, in which you may put yourself in shape. I advise you to lie

quiet here for a day or two, and then if I am still able to put my hand

on you I