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

chin. The Mississippian evaded the blow and flashed in with

his left. But Dick, who was learning to be very wary, dodged it and came

back so swiftly that Woodville was caught and beaten to his knees.

 

But the son of the house of Bellevue was still so agile that he was

able to recover his feet and spring away. Dick saw, however, that he was

panting heavily. The blow had taken a considerable part of his remaining

strength. He also saw that his antagonist was regarding him with a

curious eye.

 

"You fight well, Yank," said Woodville, "although I ought not to call

you Yank, but rather a traitor, as you're a Kentuckian. Still, I've

put my marks on you. You're bleeding a lot and you'd be a sight if it

weren't for this cleansing rain."

 

"I've been putting the map of Kentucky on your own face. You don't look

as much like Mississippi as you did. You'll take notice too that you

didn't burn the house. If you'll glance up the side of this ravine

you'll see just a little dying smoke. Eight hundred soldiers put it out

in short order."

 

Woodville's face flushed, and his eyes for the first time since the

beginning of the encounter shone with an angry gleam. But the wrathful

fire quickly died.

 

"On the whole, I'm not sorry," he said. "It was an impulse that made me

do it. Our army will come and drive you away, and our house will be our

own again."

 

"That's putting it fairly. What's the use of burning such a fine place

as Bellevue? Still, we want you. Our colonel has many questions to ask

you."

 

"You can't take me."

 

Dick judged that the crucial moment had now come. Woodville was

breathing much more heavily than he was, and seemed to be near

exhaustion. Dick darted boldly in, received a swinging right and left on

either jaw that cut his cheeks and made the blood flow. But he sent his

right to Woodville's chin and the young Mississippian without a sound

dropped to the ground, lying relaxed and flat upon his back, his white

face, streaked with red, upturned to the rain.

 

He was so still that Dick was seized with fear lest he had killed him.

He liked this boy who had fought him so well and, grasping him by both

shoulders, he shook him hard. But when he loosed him Woodville fell back

flat and inert.

 

Dick heard the waters of a brook trickling down the ravine, and,

snatching off his cap, he ran to it. He filled the cap and returned just

in time to see Woodville leap lightly to his feet and disappear with the

speed of a deer among the bushes.

CHAPTER II. FORREST

 

Dick dashed after the fugitive, but he had disappeared utterly, and the

dense bushes impeded the pursuer. He was hot and angry that he had been

deluded so cleverly, but then came the consolation that, after all, he

had won in the fistic encounter with an antagonist worthy of anybody.

And after this came a second thought that caused him to halt abruptly.

 

He and Woodville had fought it out fairly. Their fists had printed upon

the faces of each other the stamp of a mutual liking. Why should he

strive to take young Woodville before Colonel Winchester? Nothing was

to be gained by it, and, as the Mississippian was in civilian's garb, he

might incur the punishment of a spy. He realized in a flash that, since

he had vindicated his own prowess, he was glad of Woodville's escape.

 

He turned and walked thoughtfully back up the ravine. Very little noise

came from the house and the thin spires of smoke had disappeared. He

knew now that the fires had been put out with ease, thanks to his

quick warning. Before starting he had recovered both his own pistol and

Woodville's, and he was particularly glad to find the latter because

it would be proof of his story, if proof were needed. The rain had not

ceased nor had the heavy darkness lifted, but the looming shadow of the

big house was sufficient guide. He found the place where he had slipped

down the bank and the torn bushes and grass showed that he had made a

fine trail. He pulled himself back up by the bushes and reentered the

garden, where he was halted at once by two watchful sentries.

 

"Lieutenant Richard Mason of Colonel Winchester's staff," he said,

"returning from the pursuit of a fugitive."

 

The men knew him and they said promptly:

 

"Pass Lieutenant Mason."

 

But despite the dark they stared at him very curiously, and when he

walked on toward the piazza one of them muttered to the other:

 

"I guess he must have overtook that fugitive he was chasin'."

 

Dick walked up the steps upon the piazza, where some one had lighted a

small lamp, near which stood Colonel Winchester and his staff.

 

"Here's Dick!" exclaimed Warner in a tone of great relief.

 

"And we thought we had lost him," said Colonel Winchester, gladness

showing in his voice. Then he added: "My God, Dick, what have you been

doing to yourself?"

 

"Yes, what kind of a transformation is this?" added a major. "You've

certainly come back with a face very different from the one with which

you left us!"

 

Dick turned fiery red. He suddenly became conscious that he had a left

ear of enormous size, purple and swollen, that his left eye was closing

fast, that the blood was dripping from cuts on either cheek, that the

blood had flowed down the middle of his forehead and had formed a little

stalactite on the end of his nose, that his chin had been gashed in five

places by a strong fist, and that he had contributed his share to the

bloodshed of the war.

 

"If I didn't know these were modern times," said Warner, "I'd say that

he had just emerged from a sanguinary encounter bare-handed in the Roman

arena with a leopard."

 

Dick glared at him.

 

"It was you who gave the alarm of fire, was it not?" asked Colonel

Winchester.

 

"Yes, sir. I saw the man who set the fires and I pursued him through the

garden and into the ravine that runs behind it."

 

"Your appearance indicates that you overtook him."

 

Dick flushed again.

 

"I did, sir," he replied. "I know I'm no beauty at present, but neither

is he."

 

"It looks as if it had been a matter of fists?"

 

"It was, sir. Both of us fired our pistols, but missed. Then we threw

our weapons to one side and clashed. It was a hard and long fight, sir.

He hit like a pile driver, and he was as active as a deer. But I was

lucky enough to knock him out at last."

 

"Then why does your face look like a huge piece of pickled beef?" asked

the incorrigible Warner mischievously.

 

"You wait and I'll make yours look the same!" retorted Dick.

 

"Shut up," said Colonel Winchester. "If I catch you two fighting I may

have you both shot as an example."

 

Dick and Warner grinned good-naturedly at each other. They knew that

Colonel Winchester did not dream of carrying out such a threat, and they

knew also that they had no intention of fighting.

 

"And after you knocked him out what happened?" asked the colonel.

 

Dick looked sheepish.

 

"He lay so still I was afraid he was dead," he replied. "I ran down to

a brook, filled my cap with water, and returned with it in the hope

of reviving him. I got there just in time to see him vanishing in the

bushes. Pursuit was hopeless."

 

"He was clever," said the Colonel. "Have you any idea who he was?"

 

"He told me. He was Victor Woodville, the son of Colonel John Woodville,

C.S.A., the owner of this house."

 

"Ah!" said Colonel Winchester, and then after a moment's thought he

added: "It's just as well he escaped. I should not have known what to do

with him. But we have you, Dick, to thank for giving the alarm. Now, go

inside and change to some dry clothes, if you have any in your baggage,

and if not dry yourself before a fire they're going to build in the

kitchen."

 

"Will you pardon me for speaking of something, sir?"

 

"Certainly. Go ahead."

 

"I think the appearance of young Woodville here indicates the nearness

of Forrest or some other strong cavalry force."

 

"You're right, Dick, my officers and I are agreed upon it. I have

doubled the watch, but now get yourself to that fire and then to sleep."

 

Dick obeyed gladly enough. The night had turned raw and chill, and the

cold water dripped from his clothes as he walked. But first he produced

Woodville's pistol and handed it to Colonel Winchester.

 

"There's my antagonist's pistol, sir," he said. "You'll see his initials

on it."

 

"Yes, here they are," said Colonel Winchester: "'V.W., C.S.A.' It's a

fine weapon, but it's yours, Dick, as you captured it."

 

Dick took it and went to the kitchen, where the big fire had just begun

to blaze. He was lucky enough to be the possessor of an extra uniform,

and before he changed into it--they slept with their clothes on--he

roasted himself before those glorious coals. Then, as he was putting on

the fresh uniform, Warner and Pennington appeared.

 

"What would you recommend as best for the patient, Doctor," said Warner

gravely to Pennington.

 

"I think such a distinguished surgeon as you will agree with me that his

wounds should first be washed and bathed thoroughly in cold water."

 

"And after that a plentiful application of soothing liniment."

 

"Yes, Doctor. That is the best we can do with the simple medicines we

have, but it especially behooves us to reduce the size of that left ear,

or some of the boys will say that we have a case of elephantiasis on our

hands."

 

"While you're reducing the size of it you might also reduce the pain in

it," said Dick.

 

"We will," said Pennington; "we've got some fine horse liniment here.

I brought it all the way from Nebraska with me, and if it's good for

horses it ought to be good for prize fighters, too. That was surely a

hefty chap who fought you. If you didn't have his pistol as proof I'd

say that he gave you a durned good licking. Isn't this a pretty cut down

the right cheek bone, George?"

 

"Undoubtedly, but nothing can take away the glory of that left ear.

Why, if Dick could only work his ears he could fan himself with it

beautifully. When I meet that Woodville boy I'm going to congratulate

him. He was certainly handy with his fists."

 

"Go on, fellows," said Dick, good-naturedly. "In a week I won't have a

wound or a sign of a scar. Then I'll remember what you've said to me and

I'll lick you both, one after the other."

 

"Patient is growing delirious, don't you think so, Doctor?" said Warner

to Pennington.

 

"Beyond a doubt. Violent talk is always proof of it. Better put him to

bed. Spread his two blankets before the fire, and he can sleep there,

while every particle of cold and stiffness is being roasted out of him."

 

"You boys are very good to me," said Dick gratefully.

 

"It's done merely in the hope that your gratitude will keep you from

giving us the licking you promised," said Pennington.

 

Then they left him and Dick slept soundly until he was awakened the next

day by Warner. The fire was out, the rain had ceased long since and the

sun was shining brilliantly.

 

"Hop up, Dick," said Warner briskly. "Breakfast's ready. Owing to your

wound we let you sleep until the last moment. Come now, take the foaming

coffee and the luscious bacon, and we'll be off, leaving Bellevue again

to its masters, if they will come and claim it."

 

"Has anything happened in the night?"

 

"Nothing since you ran your face against a pile driver, but Sergeant

Daniel Whitley, who reads the signs of earth and air and wood and water,

thinks that something is going to happen."

 

"Is it Forrest?"

 

"Don't know, but it's somebody or something. As soon as we can