The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖
- Author: Joseph A. Altsheler
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regiment over to him.
Dick and other young officers were sent back through the column to see
that they marched without noise. It was not difficult to enforce the
orders, as the men were filled with the ardor of the hunt, and would do
everything to insure its success. When Dick came back to the head of the
column he merely heard the tread of feet and the rustling of uniforms
against the bushes behind them.
The sergeant led on with unerring skill and instinct. They were rising
fast on the slope, and the great forest received and hid them as if they
were its wild children returned to their home. The foliage was so dense
that Dick caught only flitting glimpses of the camp below, although many
fires were yet burning there.
The wisdom of putting the regiment into the hands of the sergeant
was now shown. Rising to the trust, he called up all his reserves of
wilderness lore. He listened attentively to the voice of every night
bird, because it might not be real, but instead the imitation call of
man to man. He searched in every opening under the moonlight for traces
of footsteps, which he alone could have seen, and, when at last he found
them, Dick, despite the dusk, saw his figure expand and his eyes flash.
He had been kneeling down examining the imprints and when he arose the
colonel asked:
"What is it, Whitley?"
"Men have passed here, sir, and, as they couldn't have been ours, they
were the enemy. The tracks lead south on the slope, and they must have
been going that way to join Slade's command."
"Then you think, Sergeant, we should follow this trail?"
"Undoubtedly, sir, but we must look out for an ambush. These men know
the mountains thoroughly, and if we were to walk into their trap they
might cut us to pieces."
"Then we won't walk into it. Lead on, Sergeant. If the enemy is near, I
know that you will find him in time."
The sergeant's brown face flushed with pride, but he followed on the
trail without a word and behind him came the whole regiment, implicit
in its trust, and winding without noise like a great coiling serpent
through the forest.
Dick was a woodsman himself, and he kept close to the sergeant, watching
his methods, and seeking also what he could find. While they lost the
trail now and then, he saw the sergeant recover it in the openings. He
noted, too, that it was increasing in size. Little trails were flowing
into the big one like brooks into a river, and the main course was
uniformly south, but bearing slightly upward on the slope.
The sergeant stopped at the melancholy cry of an owl, apparently three
or four hundred yards ahead. Both he and Dick raised their heads and
listened for the answer, which they felt sure was ready. The long,
sinister hoot in reply came from a point considerably farther away, but
at about the same height on the slope.
"They have two forces, sir," said the sergeant to Colonel Winchester,
"and I think they're about to unite."
"As a wilderness fighter, what would you suggest, Sergeant?"
"To wait here a little and lie hidden in the brush. We're rightly afraid
of an ambush if we go on, then why not make the same danger theirs? I
think it likely that the other force is coming this way. Anyway, we can
tell in a minute or two, 'cause them owls are sure to hoot again. If I'm
right, we can catch 'em napping."
"An excellent idea, Sergeant. Ah! there are the signals you predicted!"
The owl hooted again from the same point directly in front, and then
came the reply of the other, now nearer. The sergeant drew a deep breath
of satisfaction.
"Yes, sir, I was right," he said. "Their meeting place is straight in
front. Will you let me slip forward a little through the brush and see?"
"Go ahead, Sergeant. We need all the information we can get, but don't
walk into any trap yourself, leaving us here without eyes or ears."
"Never fear, sir. I won't be caught."
Then he disappeared with a suddenness that made the colonel and Dick
gasp. He was with them, and then he was not. But he returned in ten
minutes, and, although Dick could not see it in his face, he was
triumphant.
"There's a glade not more'n four hundred yards ahead," he whispered to
the colonel, "and about a hundred and fifty men, armed with long rifles,
are lying down in it waiting for a second force, which I judge from the
cry of the owl will be there inside of five minutes."
"Then," said Colonel Winchester, breathing fast, "we'll wait ten minutes
and attack. It would be a great stroke to wipe out Slade's band. I'm
sorry for those Ohio fellows, but the luck's ours to-night, or I should
say that the sergeant's skill as a trailer has given us the chance."
It was soon known along the black, winding line that the enemy was at
hand, and the men were eager to attack, but they were ordered to have
patience for a little while. Their leader wished to destroy Slade's
whole force at one stroke.
Colonel Winchester took out his watch and held it before him in the
faint moonlight. He would not move until the ten minutes exactly had
passed. Then he closed the watch and gave the signal, but stationed
officers along the line to see that the men made as little noise as
possible. The long black column moved again through the forest and Dick,
full of excitement was at its head with the colonel and the sergeant.
They reached a slope, crept up it, and then spread out, as they knew
that the valley and the enemy were within rifle shot. Dick, glancing
through the bushes, saw the glitter of steel and caught the murmur of
voices. He knew that their presence was not yet suspected, and he did
not like the idea of firing from ambush upon anybody, but there was no
occasion for testing his scruples, as the advance of so many men created
noise sufficient to reach the alert ears in the glade.
"Up, men! The enemy!" he heard a voice shout. Colonel Winchester at the
same moment ordered his men to fire and charge with the bayonet.
A terrible volley was poured into the valley, and it seemed to Dick that
half of Slade's force went down, but as they rushed forward to finish
the task they met a fire that caused many of the Union soldiers to drop.
Slade was evidently a man of ability. Dick saw him springing about and
blowing a little silver whistle, which he knew was a call to rally.
But the surprise was too sudden and great. The irregulars, fighting
hard, were driven out of the valley and into the woods on the upper side
of the glade. Sheltered in the underbrush, they might have made a
good defense there, but a sudden tremendous cheer arose, and they were
charged in the flank by the Ohio regiment, coming up on the run.
Spurred by emulation the Winchester men also rushed into the underbrush,
and those of Slade's men who had not fallen quickly threw down their
arms. But they did not catch the leader, nor did they know what had
become of him, until Dick caught sight of a little, weazened figure
under an enormous wide-brimmed hat running with three or four others
along the mountain-side.
"Slade! Slade!" he cried, pointing, and instantly a score, Dick and the
sergeant among them, were hotfoot after the fugitives. Several shots
were fired, but none hit, and the chase lengthened out.
Sergeant Whitley exclaimed to Dick:
"We catch the pack, but if we don't catch the leader there'll be another
pack soon."
"Right you are! We must have that little man under the big hat!"
Dick heard panting breaths, and Warner and Pennington drew up by his
side.
"Slade's about to escape!" exclaimed Dick. "We must get him!"
"I'm running my best," said Warner. "Look out!" Slade suddenly faced
about and fired a heavy pistol. Dick had dropped down at Warner's
warning cry and the bullet sang over his head. The sergeant fired in
return, but the light was too faint, and Slade and the three who were
with him ran on unharmed.
The pursuit, conducted with such vigor, soon led to the top of the
mountain, and they began the descent of the far side. Several more shots
were fired, but they did no damage, and neither side was able to gain.
Two of the fugitives turned aside into the woods, but the pursuit kept
straight after Slade, and his remaining companion, a slender, youthful
figure.
"I think we'll get 'em," panted the sergeant. As he spoke one of the
little mountain rivers so numerous in that region came into view. It was
narrow, but deep, and without hesitating an instant the fugitives sprang
into it and shot down the stream, swimming with all their strength, and
helped by the powerful current.
Slade was in advance, and he was already disappearing in the shadows on
the far bank, but his comrade, he of the slender figure, was still in
the moonlight, which fell across his face for a moment. A soldier raised
his rifle to fire, but Dick stumbled and fell against him and the bullet
went high in the air.
The moment had been long enough for Dick to recognize Victor Woodville.
He did not know how he happened to be with Slade, but he did not intend
that he should be shot there in the water, and his impulse was quick
enough to save Victor's life. In another moment the young Mississippian
was gone also in the shadows, and although several of the Union men swam
the river they could discover no trace of either.
"I'm sorry," said the sergeant as they walked back to the other side of
the mountain, "that they got away."
"Yes," said Dick, "it was too bad that Slade escaped."
CHAPTER XIII. THE RIVER OF DEATH
Dick knew that he had saved young Woodville's life, but his conscience
was quite dear. If he had the same chance he would do it over again, but
he was sorry they had not caught Slade. He felt no hostility toward the
regular soldiers of the Confederacy, but he knew there were guerillas on
their side, as well as his own, who would stop at nothing. He remembered
Skelly, who, claiming to be a Union partisan, nevertheless robbed and
even killed those of either party whenever he felt it safe to do so.
Slade was his Southern complement, and he would surely get together a
new force as venomous as the old.
But Colonel Winchester and the commander of the Ohio regiment were full
of pride in their exploit, as they had a right to be. They had destroyed
a swarm of wasps which had been buzzing and stinging almost beyond
endurance, and they were still prouder when they received the thanks of
General Thomas.
The corps moved forward the next day, and soon the whole army was united
under Rosecrans. It was a powerful force, about ninety thousand men, the
staunch fighters of the West, veterans of great battles and victories,
and to the young officers it appeared invincible. Their feeling that it
was marching to another triumph was confirmed by the news that Bragg was
retreating.
Yet the two armies were so close to each other that the Northern
vanguard skirmished with the Southern rearguard as they passed through
the mountains. At one point in a gap of the Cumberland Mountains the
Southerners made a sharp resistance, but they were quickly driven from
their position and the Union mass rolled slowly on. Exultation among the
troops increased.
"We'll drive Bragg away down into the South against Grant," said Ohio to
Dick, "and we'll crush him between the two arms of the vise. That will
finish everything in the West."
While Dick was exultant, too, he had certain reservations. He had seen
a like confidence carried to disaster
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