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

they could avoid grazing my skin."

 

Dick and Pennington laughed. Warner's fooling amused them and relieved

the painful tension of their minds.

 

"But, George," said Pennington, "suppose one of the bullets failed to

turn aside and killed you. What could we say then for you?"

 

"That it was a silly, ignorant bullet not knowing whence it came, or

where it was going. Ah, there's light in the darkness! Look across the

hill and see that shining flame!"

 

Dick rose and then the three walked to the brow of the hill, where

Colonel Winchester stood, using his glasses as well as he could in the

dusk.

 

"It's the pine forest on fire in places," he said. "The shells did it,

and it's been burning for some time, spreading until it has now come

into our own sight."

 

But they were detached fires, and they did not fuse into a general mass

at any time. Clumps of trees burnt steadily like vast torches and sent

up high flames. Bands of men from either side worked silently, removing

as many of the wounded as they could. It was a spontaneous movement, as

happened so often in this war, and Dick and his comrades took a part in

it.

 

North and South met in friendliness in the darkness or by the light of

the burning pines, and talked freely as they lifted up their wounded.

Dick asked often about Colonel Kenton, meeting at last some Kentuckians,

who told him that the colonel had gone through the day without a wound,

and was with Buckner. Then Dick asked if any Mississippians were along

the line.

 

"What do you want with 'em?" asked a long, lank man with a bilious

yellow face.

 

"I've got a friend among 'em. Woodville is his name, and he's about my

own age."

 

"I've heard of the Woodvilles. Big an' rich family in Missip. 'Roun'

Vicksburg and Jackson mostly. I'm from the Yazoo valley myself, an' if

I hear of the young fellow I'll send him down this way. But I can't stay

out long, 'cause it'll soon be time for me to have my chill. Comes every

other night reg'lar. But I'll be all right for battle to-morrow, when

we lick you Yankees out of the other boot, having licked you out of one

to-day."

 

"All right, old Yazoo," laughed Dick. "Go on and have your chill, but if

you see Woodville tell him Mason is waiting down here by the wood."

 

"I'll shorely do it, if the chill don't git me fust," said the yellow

Mississippian as he strolled away, and Dick knew that he would keep his

word.

 

The lad lingered at the spot where he had met the man, hoping that by

some lucky chance Woodville might come, and fortune gave him his wish. A

slender figure emerged from the dark, and a voice called softly:

 

"Is that you, Mason?"

 

"Nobody else," replied Dick gladly, stepping forward and offering his

hand, which young Woodville shook warmly. "I was hoping that I might

meet you, and I see, too, that you can't be hurt much, if at all."

 

"I haven't been touched. It's my lucky day, I suppose."

 

"Where's your uncle? I hope he's in some safe place, recovering from his

wound."

 

Victor Woodville laughed softly.

 

"Uncle Charles is recovering from his wound perhaps faster than you

hope," he said, "but he's not in a safe place. Far from it."

 

"I don't understand."

 

"His wound is so much better that he can walk, though with a hop, and

he's right here in the thick of this battle, leading his own Mississippi

regiment. His horse was killed under him early this morning, and he's

fought all day on foot, swearing in the strange and melodious fashion

that you know. It's hop! swear! hop! swear! in beautiful alternation!"

 

"Good old colonel!"

 

"That's what he is, and he's also one of the bravest men that ever

lived, if he is my uncle. His regiment did prodigies to-day and they'll

do greater prodigies to-morrow. The Woodvilles are well represented

here. My father is present, leading his regiment, and there are a dozen

Woodville cousins of mine whom you've never met."

 

"And I hope I won't meet 'em on this field. What about your aunt?"

 

"She's well, and in a safe place."

 

"I'm glad of that. Now, tell me, Victor, how did you happen to be

with Slade on that raid? Of course it's no business of mine, but I was

surprised."

 

"I don't mind answering. I suppose it was a taste for adventure, and a

desire to serve our cause. After I got up the bank and climbed into the

bushes, I looked back, and I think, Mason, that you may have saved me

from a bullet. I don't know, but I think so."

 

Dick said nothing, but despite the dusk Woodville read the truth in his

eyes.

 

"I shan't forget," said the young Mississippian as he moved away.

 

Dick turned back to his own group. They had noticed him talking to

the lad in gray, but they paid no attention, nor thought it anything

unusual. It was common enough in the great battles of the American civil

war, most of which lasted more than one day, for the opposing soldiers

to become friendly in the nights between.

 

"I think, sir," said Sergeant Whitley, "that we won't be able to get any

more of our wounded to-night. Now, pardon me for saying it, Lieutenant,

but we ought to have some rest, because when day comes there's going

to be the most awful attack you ever saw. Some of our spies say that

Longstreet and the last of the Virginians did not come until night or

nearly night and that Longstreet himself will lead the attack on us."

 

"Do you think, Sergeant, that it will be made first on our own corps?"

 

"I don't know, Mr. Mason. We've stood firmest, and them rebel generals

are no fools. They'll crash in where we've shown the most weakness."

 

The sergeant walked on, carrying the corner of a litter. Warner, who had

stood by, whispered to Dick:

 

"There goes a general, but he'll never have the title. He's got a

general's head on his shoulders, and he thinks and talks like a general,

but he hasn't any education, and men with much poorer brains go past

him. Let it be a lesson to you, Dick, my son. After this war, go to

school, and learn something."

 

"Good advice, George, and I'll take it," laughed Dick. "But he isn't so

badly off. I wonder if those fires in the pine forest are going to burn

all night?"

 

"Several of 'em will. The big one on our left will be blazing when

day comes, and I'm glad of it since no wounded are now in its way. The

night's cold. That's a sharp and searching wind, and the sight of flames

makes one feel warm even if they are far away."

 

It would not be long until day now, and the axes ceased to ring in the

forest. A long and formidable line of abattis had been made, but the men

were compelled to seek some rest. Despite the cold they suffered from a

burning thirst, and they could reach no water, not even the red

stream of the Chickamauga. Dick suffered like the rest, but he was

philosophical.

 

"I fancy that after sunrise we won't have time to think about water," he

said.

 

But Dick was not destined to sleep. He lay down for a while, and he saw

hundreds of others around him lying motionless as if dead. Warner and

Pennington were among them, but he could not close his own eyes. His

brain was still hot and excited, and to calm himself if possible he

walked along the slope until he saw a faint light in the valley behind

A tall figure, which he recognized as that of Colonel Winchester,

was going toward the light.

 

Dick, being on such good terms with his colonel, would have followed

him, but when he came to the edge of the glade he drew back. General

Thomas was sitting on the huge, upthrust root of an oak, and he was

writing dispatches by the light of a flickering candle held by an aide.

Officers of high rank, one of whom Dick recognized as the young general,

Garfield, stood around him. Colonel Winchester joined the group, and

stood waiting in silence to receive orders, too, Dick supposed.

 

The lad withdrew hastily, but driven by an overmastering curiosity,

and knowing that he was doing no harm, he turned back and watched for a

little space beside a bush.

 

The flame of the candle wavered under the wind, and sometimes the light

shone full upon the face of Thomas. It was the same face that Dick had

first beheld when he carried the dispatches to him in Kentucky. He was

calm, inscrutable at this, the most desperate crisis the Union cause

ever knew in the west. Dick could not see that his hand trembled a

particle as he wrote, although lieutenant and general alike knew that

they would soon be attacked by a superior force, flushed with all the

high enthusiasm of victory. And lieutenant and general alike also knew

that their supreme commander, Rosecrans, was no genius like Lee or

Jackson, who could set numbers at naught, and choose time and place to

suit themselves. Only stubborn courage to fight and die could avail.

 

But Dick drew courage from the strong, thick figure sitting there so

impassively and apparently impervious to alarm. When he quit writing

and began to give verbal orders, he spoke in even tones, in which no

one could detect a trace of excitement. When the name, "The Rock of

Chickamauga," became general, Dick remembered that night and knew how

well it was deserved.

 

Thomas gave his last order and his generals went to their commands. Dick

slipped back to his regiment, and lay down, but again could not sleep.

 

He waited in painful anxiety for the day. He had never before been

in such a highly nervous state, not at Shiloh, nor Stone River, nor

anywhere else. In those battles the chances were with the Union, but

here they were against it. He recognized that once more, save for

Thomas, the North had been outgeneraled. The army of Rosecrans had

marched from Chattanooga directly upon the positions chosen by Bragg,

where he was awaiting them with superior numbers. And the Confederate

government in the East had been quick enough to seize the opportunity

and quick enough to send the stalwart fighter, Longstreet, and his corps

to help close down the trap.

 

He wondered with many a painful throbbing of the heart what the dawn

would bring, and, unable to keep still any longer, he rose and went to

the brow of the low hill, behind which they lay. Colonel Winchester was

there walking through the scrub and trying to pick out something in

the opposing forest with his glasses. The cold wind still blew from

the mountains, and there were three high but distant torches, where the

clumps of pines still burned.

 

"Restless, Dick?" said the Colonel. "Well, so am I."

 

"We have cause to be so, sir."

 

"So we have, my lad. We thought the danger to the Union had passed with

Vicksburg and Gettysburg, but the day so soon to come may shatter all

our hopes. They must have a hundred thousand men out there, and they've

chosen time and place. What's more, they've succeeded so far. I don't

hesitate to talk to you in this way, Dick, but you mustn't repeat what I

say."

 

"I shouldn't dream of doing so, sir."

 

"I know you would not, but General Thomas apprehends a tremendous and

terrible attack. Whatever happens, we have not long to wait for it. I

think I feel the touch of the dawn in the wind."

 

"It's coming, sir. I can see a faint tinge of gray in that cleft between

the hills toward the east."

 

"You have a good eye, Dick. I see it now, too. It's growing and

turning to the color of silver. But I think we'll have time to get our

breakfasts. General Thomas does not believe the first attack will be

made upon our wing."

 

The wind was freshening, as if it brought the dawn upon its edge.

The night had been uncommonly cold for the time of the year in that

latitude, and there was no sun yet to give warmth. But the men of Thomas

were being awakened, and, as no fires were allowed, cold food was served

to them.

 

"What's happened, Dick, while I was asleep?" asked Pennington.

 

"Nothing. The two armies are ready, and I think to-day will decide it."

 

"I hope so. Two days are enough for any battle."

 

Pennington's tone was jocular, but his words were not. His face was

grave as he regarded the opposing forest. He had the feeling of youth

that others might be killed, but not he. Nevertheless he was already

mourning many a good comrade who would be lost before the night came

again.

 

"There are