The Guns of Shiloh: A Story of the Great Western Campaign

Twice they crossed creeks. One the horses could wade, but the other was so deep that they were compelled to swim. On the further bank of the second they stopped a while to rest the horses and to count the men to see that no straggler had dropped away in the darkness. Then they sprang into the saddle again and rode on as before through a country that seemed to be abandoned.

There was a certain thrill and exhilaration in their daring ride. The smoke and odors of the battle about Donelson were blown away. The dead and the wounded, the grewsome price even of victory, no longer lay before their eyes, and the cold air rushing past freshened their blood and gave it a new sparkle. Every one in the little column knew that danger was plentiful about them, but there was pleasure in action in the open.

Their general direction was Nashville, and now they came into a country, richer, better cultivated, and peopled more thickly. Toward night they saw on a gentle hill in a great lawn and surrounded by fine trees a large red brick house, with green shutters and portico supported by white pillars. Smoke rose from two chimneys. Colonel Winchester halted his troop and examined the house from a distance for a little while.

“This is the home of wealthy people,” he said at last to Dick, “and we may obtain some information here. At least we should try it.”

Dick had his doubts, but he said nothing.

“You, Mr. Pennington, Mr. Warner and Sergeant Whitley, dismount with me,” continued the colonel, “and we’ll try the house.”

He bade his troop remain in the road under the command of the officer next in rank, and he, with those whom he had chosen, opened the lawn gate. A brick walk led to the portico and they strolled along it, their spurs jingling. Although the smoke still rose from the chimneys no door opened to them as they stepped into the portico. All the green shutters were closed tightly.

“I think they saw us in the road,” said Dick, “and this is a house of staunch Southern sympathizers. That is why they don’t open to us.”

“Beat on the door with the hilt of your sword, sergeant,” said the colonel to Whitley. “They’re bound to answer in time.”

The sergeant beat steadily and insistently. Yet he was forced to continue it five or six minutes before it was thrown open. Then a tall old woman with a dignified, stern face and white hair, drawn back from high brows, stood before them. But Dick’s quick eyes saw in the dusk of the room behind her a girl of seventeen or eighteen.

“What do you want?” asked the woman in a tone of ice. “I see that you are Yankee soldiers, and if you intend to rob the house there is no one here to oppose you. Its sole occupants are myself, my granddaughter, and two colored women, our servants. But I tell you, before you begin, that all our silver has been shipped to Nashville.”

Colonel Winchester flushed a deep crimson, and bit his lips savagely.

“Madame,” he said, “we are not robbers and plunderers. These are regular soldiers belonging to General Grant’s army.”

“Does it make any difference? Your armies come to ravage and destroy the South.”

Colonel Winchester flushed again but, remembering his self-control, he said politely:

“Madame, I hope that our actions will prove to you that we have been maligned. We have not come here to rob you or disturb you in any manner. We merely wished to inquire of you if you had seen any other Southern armed forces in this vicinity.”

“And do you think, sir,” she replied in the same uncompromising tones, “if I had seen them that I would tell you anything about it?”

“No, Madame,” replied the Colonel bowing, “whatever I may have thought before I entered your portico I do not think so now.”

“Then it gives me pleasure to bid you good evening, sir,” she said, and shut the door in his face.

Colonel Winchester laughed rather sorely.

“She had rather the better of me,” he said, “but we can’t make war on women. Come on, lads, we’ll ride ahead, and camp under the trees. It’s easy to obtain plenty of fuel for fires.”

“The darkness is coming fast,” said Dick, “and it is going to be very cold, as usual.”

In a half hour the day was fully gone, and, as he had foretold, the night was sharp with chill, setting every man to shivering. They turned aside into an oak grove and pitched their camp. It was never hard to obtain fuel, as the whole area of the great civil war was largely in forest, and the soldiers dragged up fallen brushwood in abundance. Then the fires sprang up and created a wide circle of light and cheerfulness.

Dick joined zealously in the task of finding firewood and his search took him somewhat further than the others. He passed all the way through the belt of forest, and noticed fields beyond. He was about to turn back when he heard a faint, but regular sound. Experience told him that it was the beat of a horse’s hoofs and he knew that some distance away a road must lead between the fields.

He walked a hundred yards further, and climbing upon a fence waited. From his perch he could see the road about two hundred yards beyond him, and the hoof beats were rapidly growing louder. Some one was riding hard and fast.

In a minute the horseman or rather horsewoman, came into view. There was enough light for Dick to see the slender figure of a young girl mounted on a great bay horse. She was wrapped in a heavy cloak, but her head was bare, and her long dark hair streamed almost straight out behind her, so great was the speed at which she rode.

She struck the horse occasionally with a small riding whip, but he was already going like a racer. Dick remembered the slim figure of a girl, and it occurred to him suddenly that this was she whom he had seen in the dusk of the room behind her grandmother. He wondered why she was riding so fast, alone and in the winter night, and then he admitted with a thrill of admiration that he had never seen any one ride better. The hoof beats rose, died away and then horse and girl were gone in the darkness. Dick climbed down from the fence and shook himself. Was it real or merely fancy, the product of a brain excited by so much siege and battle?

He picked up a big dead bough in the wood, dragged it back to the camp and threw it on one of the fires.

“What are you looking so grave about, Dick?” asked Warner.

“When I went across that stretch of woods I saw something that I didn’t expect to see.”

“What was it?”

“A girl on a big horse. They came and they went so fast that I just got a glimpse of them.”

“A girl alone, galloping on a horse on a wintry night like this through a region infested by hostile armies! Why Dick, you’re seeing shadows! Better sit down and have a cup of this good hot coffee.”

But Dick shook his head. He knew now that he had seen reality, and he reported it to Colonel Winchester.

“Are you sure it was the girl you saw at the big house?” asked Colonel Winchester. “It might have been some farmer’s wife galloping home from an errand late in the evening.”

“It was the girl. I am sure of it,” said Dick confidently.

Just at that moment Sergeant Whitley came up and saluted.

“What is it, sergeant?” asked the Colonel.

“I have been up the road some distance, sir, and I came to another road that crossed it. The second road has been cut by hoofs of eight or nine hundred horses, and I am sure, sir, that the tracks are not a day old.”

Colonel Winchester looked grave. He knew that he was deep in the country of the enemy and he began to put together what Dick had seen and what the sergeant had seen. But the thought of withdrawing did not occur to his brave soul. He had been sent on an errand by General Grant and he meant to do it. But he changed his plans for the night. He had intended to keep only one man in ten on watch. Instead, he kept half, and Sergeant Whitley, veteran of Indian wars, murmured words of approval under his breath.

Whitley and Pennington were in the early watch. Dick and Warner were to come on later. The colonel spoke as if he would keep watch all night. All the horses were tethered carefully inside the ring of pickets.

“It doesn’t need any mathematical calculation,” said Warner, “to tell that the colonel expects trouble of some kind tonight. What its nature is, I don’t know, but I mean to go to sleep, nevertheless. I have already seen so much of hardship and war that the mere thought of danger does not trouble me. I took a fort on the Tennessee, I took a much larger one on the Cumberland, first defeating the enemy’s army in a big battle, and now I am preparing to march on Nashville. Hence, I will not have my slumbers disturbed by a mere belief that danger may come.”

“It’s a good resolution, George,” said Dick, “but unlike you, I am subject to impulses, emotions, thrills and anxieties.”

“Better cure yourself,” said the Vermonter, as he rolled himself in the blankets and put his head on his arm. In two minutes he was asleep, but Dick, despite his weariness, had disturbed nerves which refused to let him sleep for a long time. He closed his eyes repeatedly, and then opened them again, merely to see the tethered horses, and beyond them the circle of sentinels, a clear moonlight falling on their rifle barrels. But it was very warm and cosy in the blankets, and he would soon fall asleep again.

He was awakened about an hour after midnight to take his turn at the watch, and he noticed that Colonel Winchester was still standing beside one of the fires, but looking very anxious. Dick felt himself on good enough terms, despite his youth, to urge him to take rest.

“I should like to do so,” replied Colonel Winchester, “but Dick I tell you, although you must keep it to yourself, that I think we are in some danger. Your glimpse of the flying horsewoman, and the undoubted fact that hundreds of horsemen have crossed the road ahead of us, have made me put two and two together. Ah, what is it, sergeant?”

“I think I hear noises to the east of us, sir,” replied the veteran.

“What kind of noises, sergeant?”

“I should say, sir, that they’re made by the hoofs of horses. There, I hear them again, sir. I’m quite sure of it, and they’re growing louder!”

“And so do I!” exclaimed Colonel Winchester, now all life and activity. “The sounds are made by a large body of men advancing upon us! Seize that bugle, Dick, and blow the alarm with all your might!”