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Read books online » Fiction » The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖

Book online «The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (best love novels of all time txt) 📖». Author Joseph A. Altsheler



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rest, and presently when the

rippling in the grass ceased he was sure that they had reached it. Then

the fifty rifles cracked together and the Southern flank was swept by

fifty well-aimed bullets. Lying in their covert, Whitley's men reloaded

their breech-loading rifles and again sent in a deadly fire.

 

The main Northern force redoubled its efforts at the same time. The men

in blue sent in swarms of whistling bullets and Dick saw the front line

of the South retreating.

 

"We're rousing the wolves from their lairs," explained Pennington

exultantly as he sprang from his tree, just in time for a bullet to send

his hat flying from his head. Fortunately, it clipped only a lock of

hair, but he received in a good spirit Warner's admonishing words:

 

"Don't go wild, Frank. We've merely repelled the present attack. You

don't think that Forrest with superior forces is going to let us alone,

do you?"

 

"No, I don't," replied Pennington, "and don't you get behind that tree.

It's mine, and I'm coming back to it. I've earned it. I held it against

all kinds of bullets. Look at the scars made on each side of it by rebel

lead."

 

The firing now died. Whitley's flank movement had proved wholly

successful, and Colonel Winchester reinforced him in the little forest

peninsula with fifty more picked men, where they lay well hidden, a

formidable force for any assailant.

 

The silence now became complete, save for the stamping of the impatient

horses and the drone of insects in the woods and grass. Dick, lying

on his stomach and using his glasses, could see nothing in the forest

before them. It was to him in all its aspects an Indian battle, and he

believed in spite of what Warner had said that the enemy had retired

permanently.

 

Colonel Winchester and all the officers rose to their feet presently and

walked among the trees. No bullets came to tell them that they were

rash and then the senior officers held a conference, while all the men

remounted, save a dozen or so who would ride no more. But the colonel

did not abate one whit of his craft or caution.

 

They resumed the march toward Grant, but they avoided every field or

open space. They would make curves and lose time in order to keep in the

dense wood, but, as Dick knew, Colonel Winchester still suspected that

Forrest was hovering somewhere on his flank, covered by the great forest

and awaiting a favorable opportunity to attack.

 

They approached one of the deep and narrow streams that ultimately

find their way to the Mississippi. It had only one ford, and the scouts

galloping back informed them that the farther shore was held by a

powerful force of cavalry.

 

"It's Forrest," said Colonel Winchester with quiet conviction. "Knowing

every path of the woods, they've gone ahead of us, and they mean to cut

us off from Grant. Nevertheless we'll make a way."

 

He spoke firmly, but the junior officers of the staff did not exactly

see how they were going to force a ford defended by a larger number of

cavalry under the redoubtable Forrest.

 

"I didn't think Forrest would let us alone, and he hasn't," said

Pennington.

 

"No, he hasn't," said Warner, "and it seems that he's checkmated us,

too. Why, that river is swollen by the rains so much that it's a hard

job to cross it if no enemy were on the other side. But you'll note,

also, that the enemy, having got to the other side, can't come back

again in our face to attack us."

 

"But we want to go on and they don't," said Dick. "They're satisfied

with the enforced status quo, and we're not. Am I right, Professor?"

 

"You certainly are," replied Warner. "Now, our colonel is puzzled, as

you can tell by his looks, and so would I be, despite my great natural

military talents."

 

The Winchester regiment fell back into the woods, leaving the two

forces out of rifle shot of each other. Sentinels were posted by both

commanders not far from the river and the rest, dismounting, took their

ease, save the officers, who again went into close conference.

 

Afterward they sat among the trees and waited. It was low ground, with

the earth yet soaked from the heavy rain of the night before, and the

heat grew heavy and intense. The insects began to drone again, and once

more mosquitoes made life miserable. But the soldiers did not complain.

It was noon now, and they ate food from their knapsacks. Two springs of

clear water were found a little distance from the river and all drank

there. Then they went back to their weary waiting.

 

On the other side of the river they could see the dismounted troopers,

playing cards, sleeping or currying their horses. They seemed to be in

no hurry at all. Colonel Winchester sent divisions of scouts up and down

the stream, and, both returning after a while, reported that the river

was not fordable anywhere.

 

Colonel Winchester sat down under a tree and smoked his pipe. The longer

he smoked the more corrugated his brow became. He looked angrily at the

ford, but it would be folly to attempt a passage there, and, containing

himself as best he could, he waited while the long afternoon waned. His

men at least would get a good rest.

 

Dick and his comrades, selecting the dryest place they could find,

spread their blankets and lay down. Protecting their faces from the

mosquitoes with green leaves, they sank into a deep quiet. Dick even

drowsed for a while. He could not think of a way out of the trap, and

he was glad it was the duty of older men like Colonel Winchester and the

majors and captains to save them.

 

The heat of the day increased with the coming of afternoon, and Dick's

eyelids grew heavier. He had become so thoroughly hardened to march and

battle that the presence of the enemy on the other side of a river did

not disturb him. What was the use of bothering about the rebels as long

as they did not wish to fire upon one?

 

His eyes closed for a few minutes, and then his dreaming mind traversed

space with incredible rapidity. He was back in Pendleton, sitting on

the portico with his mother, watching the flowers on the lawn nod in the

gentle wind. His cousin Harry Kenton saluted him with a halloo and came

bounding toward the porch, and the halloo caused Dick to awake and sit

He rubbed his eyes violently and looked around a little bit ashamed.

But two captains older than himself were sound asleep with their backs

against trees.

 

Dick stood up and shook himself violently. Whatever others might do he

must not allow himself to relax so much. He saw that the sun was slowly

descending and that the full heat of the afternoon was passing. Colonel

Winchester had withdrawn somewhat among the trees and he beckoned to

him. Sergeant Whitley was standing beside the colonel.

 

"Dick," said Colonel Winchester, "colored men have brought us news that

Colonel Grierson of our army, with a strong raiding force of nearly two

thousand cavalry is less than a day's march away and on the same side

of this river that we are. We have received the news from three separate

sources and it must be true. Probably Forrest's men know it, too, but

expect Grierson to pass on, wholly ignorant that we're here. I have

chosen you and Sergeant Whitley to bring Grierson to our relief. The

horses are ready. Now go, and God speed you. The sergeant will tell you

what we know as you ride."

 

Dick sprang at once into the saddle, and with a brief good-bye he and

the sergeant were soon in the forest riding toward the southeast. Dick

was alive and energetic again. All that laziness of mind and body was

gone. He rode on a great ride and every sense was alert.

 

"Tell me," he said, "just about what the news is."

 

"Three men," replied the sergeant, "came in at different times with

tales, but the three tales agree. Grierson has made a great raid, even

further down than we have gone. He has more than double our numbers, and

if we can unite with him it's likely that we can turn Forrest into the

pursued instead of the pursuer. They say we can hit his trail about

twenty-five miles from here, and if that's so we'll bring him up to the

ford by noon to-morrow. Doesn't it look promising to you, Lieutenant

Mason?"

 

"It does look promising, Sergeant Whitley, if we don't happen to be

taken by the Johnnies who infest this region. Besides, you'll have to

guide through the dark to-night. You're trained to that sort of thing."

 

"You can see pretty well in the dark yourself, sir; and since our way

lies almost wholly through forest I see no reason why we should be

captured."

 

"That's so, sergeant. I'm just as much of an optimist as you are. You

keep the course, and I'm with you to the finish."

 

They rode rather fast at first as the sun had not yet set, picking their

way through the woods, and soon left their comrades out of sight. The

twilight now came fast, adding a mournful and somber red to the vast

expanse of wilderness. The simile of an Indian fight returned to Dick

with increased force. This was not like any battle with white men in

the open fields. It was a combat of raiders who advanced secretly under

cover of the vast wilderness.

 

The twilight died with the rapidity of the South, and the darkness,

thick at the early hours, passed over the curve of the earth. For a time

Dick and the sergeant could not see many yards in front and they rode

very slowly. After a while, as the sky lightened somewhat and their eyes

also grew keen, they made better speed. Then they struck a path through

the woods leading in the right direction, and they broke into a trot.

 

The earth was so soft that their horses' feet gave back but little

sound, and both were confident they would not meet any enemy in the

night at least.

 

"Straight southeast," said the sergeant, "and we're bound to strike

Grierson's tracks. After that we'd be blind if we couldn't follow the

trail made by nearly two thousand horsemen."

 

The path still led in the direction they wished and they rode on

silently for hours. Once they saw a farmhouse set back in the woods, and

they were in fear lest dogs come out and bark alarm, but there was no

sound and they soon left it far behind.

 

They passed many streams, some of which were up to their saddle girths,

and then they entered a road which was often so deep in mud that they

were compelled to turn into the woods on the side. But no human being

had interfered with their journey, and their hopes rose to the zenith.

 

They came, finally, into an open region of cotton fields, and the

sergeant now began to watch closely for the great trail they hoped to

find. A force as large as Grierson's would not attempt a passage through

the woods, but would seek some broad road and Sergeant Whitley expected

to find it long before morning.

 

It was now an hour after midnight and they reckoned that they had come

about the right distance. There was a good moon and plenty of stars and

the sergeant gave himself only a half-hour to find the trail.

 

"There's bound to be a wide road somewhere among these fields, the kind

we call a county road."

 

"It's over there beyond that rail fence," said Dick. They urged their

horses into a trot, and soon found that Dick was right. A road of red

clay soft from the rains stretched before them.

 

"A man doesn't have to look twice here for a trail. See," said the

sergeant.

 

The road from side to side was plowed deep with the hoofs of horses,

every footprint pointing northward.

 

"Grierson's cavalry," said Dick.

 

"I take it that it can't be anything else. There is certainly in these

parts no rebel force of cavalry large enough to make this trail."

 

"How old would you say these tracks are?"

 

"Hard to tell, but they can't have been made many hours ago. We'll press

forward, lieutenant, and we can save time going through the fields on

the edge of the road."

 

Although they had to take down fences they made good speed and just

as the sun was rising they saw the light of a low campfire among some

trees, lining either bank of a small creek. They approached warily,

until they saw the faded blue uniforms. Then they galloped forward,

shouting that they were friends, and in a few minutes were in the

presence of Grierson himself.

 

He had been making a great raid, but he was eager now for

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