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Read books online » Fiction » The Scouts of Stonewall: The Story of the Great Valley Campaign by Altsheler (reader novel .txt) 📖

Book online «The Scouts of Stonewall: The Story of the Great Valley Campaign by Altsheler (reader novel .txt) 📖». Author Altsheler



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a moment or two, uncertain what to do, and then Aubrey exclaimed:

“It's a detachment of our own cavalry. See their gray uniforms, and that's Sherburne leading them!”

“So it is!” exclaimed Harry, and he rode forward joyfully. Sherburne gave all three of them a warm welcome, but he was far from cheerful. He led a dozen troopers and they, like himself, were covered with dust and were drooping with weariness. It was evident to Harry that they had ridden far and hard, and that they did not bring good news.

“Well, Harry,” said Sherburne, still attempting the gay air, “chance has brought us together again, and I should judge from your appearance that you've come a long way, bringing nothing particularly good.”

“It's so. George and I have been riding all night. We were in Manassas Gap and we learned definitely that Shields is coming through the pass with ten thousand men.”

“Fine,” said Sherburne with a dusty smile. “Ten thousand is a good round number.”

“And if we'll give him time enough,” continued Harry, “McDowell will come with twice as many more.”

“Look's likely,” said Sherburne.

“We've been riding back toward Jackson as fast as we could,” continued Harry, “and a little while ago Aubrey riding the same way overtook us.”

“And what have you seen, Aubrey?” asked Sherburne.

“I? Oh, I've seen a lot. I've been down by Front Royal in the night, and I've seen Ord with ten thousand men coming full tilt down the Luray Valley.”

“What another ten thousand! It's funny how the Yankees run to even tens of thousands, or multiples of that number.”

“I've heard,” said Harry, “that the force under Banks and Saxton in front of Jackson was ten thousand also.”

“I'm sorry, boys, to break up this continuity,” said Sherburne with a troubled laugh, “but it's fifteen thousand that I've got to report. Fremont is coming from the west with that number. We've seen 'em. I've no doubt that at this moment there are nearly fifty thousand Yankees in the valley, with more coming, and all but ten thousand of them are in General Jackson's rear.”

It seemed that Sherburne, daring cavalryman, had lost his courage for the moment, but the faith of the stern Presbyterian youth, Dalton, never faltered.

“As I told Harry a little while ago, we have at least fifty thousand men,” he said.

“What do you mean?” asked Sherburne.

“I count Stonewall Jackson as forty thousand, and the rest will bring the number well over fifty thousand.”

Sherburne struck his gauntleted hand smartly on his thigh.

“You talk sense, Dalton!” he exclaimed. “I was foolish to despair! I forgot how much there was under Stonewall Jackson's hat! They haven't caught the old fox yet!”

They galloped on anew, and now they were riding on the road, over which they had pursued so hotly the defeated army of Banks. They would soon be in Jackson's camp, and as they approached their hearts grew lighter. They would cast off their responsibilities and trust all to the leader who appeared so great to them.

“I see pickets now,” said Aubrey. “Only five more minutes, boys, but as soon as I give my news I'll have to drop. The excitement has kept me up, but I can't last any longer.”

“Nor I,” said Harry, who realized suddenly that he was on the verge of collapse. “Whether our arrival is to be followed by a battle or a retreat I'm afraid I won't be fit for either.”

They gave the password, and the pickets pointed to the tent of Jackson. They rode straight to him, and dismounted as he came forth from the tent. They were so stiff and sore from long riding that Dalton and Aubrey fell to their knees when they touched the ground, but they quickly recovered, and although they stood somewhat awkwardly they saluted with the deepest respect. Jackson's glance did not escape their mishap, and he knew the cause, but he merely said:

“Well, gentlemen.”

“I have to report, sir,” said Sherburne, speaking first as the senior officer, “that General Fremont is coming from the west with fifteen thousand men, ready to fall upon your right flank.”

“Very good, and what have you seen, Captain Aubrey?”

“Ord with ten thousand men is in our rear and is approaching Front Royal.”

“Very good. You have done faithful work, Captain Aubrey. What have you seen, Lieutenant Kenton and Lieutenant Dalton?”

“General Shields, sir, is in Manassas Gap this morning with ten thousand men, and he and General Ord can certainly meet to-day if they wish. We learned also that General McDowell can come up in a few days with twenty thousand more.”

The face of Stonewall Jackson never flinched. It looked worn and weary but not more so than it did before this news.

“I thank all of you, young gentlemen,” he said in his quiet level tones. “You have done good service. It may be that you're a little weary. You'd better sleep now. I shall call you when I want you.”

The four saluted and General Jackson went back into the tent. Aubrey made a grimace.

“We may be a little tired!” he said. “Why, I haven't been out of the saddle for twenty-four hours, and I felt so anxious that every one of those hours was a day long.”

“But it's a lot to get from the general an admission that you may be even a little tired,” said Dalton. “Remember the man for whom you ride.”

“That's so,” said Aubrey, “and I oughtn't to have said what I did. We've got to live up to new standards.”

Sherburne, Aubrey and Dalton picked out soft spots on the grass and almost instantly were sound asleep, but Harry lingered a minute or two longer. He saw across the river the glitter of bayonets and the dark muzzles of cannon. He also saw many troops moving on the hills and he knew that he was looking upon the remains of Banks' army reinforced by fresh men, ready to dispute the passage or fight Jackson if he marched northward in any other way, while the great masses of their comrades gathered behind him.

Harry felt again for a moment that terrible sinking of the heart which is such close kin to despair. Enemies to the north of them, enemies to the south of them, and to the east and to the west, enemies everywhere. The ring was closing in. Worse than that, it had closed in already and Stonewall Jackson was only mortal. Neither he nor any one else could lead them through the overwhelming ranks of such a force.

But the feeling passed quickly. It could not linger, because the band of the Acadians was playing, and the dark men of the Gulf were singing. Even

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