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

The pursuit at first seemed futile to Dick, because they would soon descend into Townsville’s valley, and the raiders could not follow them into the midst of an entire regiment. But presently he saw their plan. The pass now widened out with a few hundred yards of level space on either side of the road thickly covered with forest. The branches of the trees were bare, but the undergrowth was so dense that horsemen could be hidden in it. Bands of the raiders darted into the woods both to right and left, and he knew that advancing on a straight line one or the other of the parties expected to catch the fugitives who must follow the curves of the road.

The advantage of the pursuit was soon shown as a shot from the right whistled by them. Red Blaze, quick as lightning, fired at the flash of the rifle.

“I don’t know whether I hit him or not,” he said, judicially, “but the chances are pow’ful good that I did. Still it looks as if they meant to hang on an’ likely we kin soon expect shots from the other side, too. Then if they know the country as well as they ‘pear to do they’ll have us clamped in a vise.”

As he spoke his eyes twinkled cheerfully out of his flaming countenance.

“You certainly seem to take it easy,” said Dick.

“I take it easy, ‘cause the jaws of that vise ain’t goin’ to clamp down. Bein’ somewhat interested in a run for your life you haven’t noticed how dark it’s gettin’ up here on the heights an’ how hard it’s snowin’. It’s comin’ down a lot thicker than it was when we crossed the first time.”

It was true. Dick noticed now that the snow was pouring down, and that all the peaks and ridges were lost in the white whirlwind.

“I told you that I had been a traveler,” said Red Blaze. “I’ve been as far as fifty miles from Townsville, and I know all the country in every direction, twenty miles from it, inch by inch. Inside five minutes the snowstorm will be on us full blast, an’ we won’t be able to see more’n twenty yards away. An’ that crowd that’s follerin’ won’t be able to see either. An’ me knowin’ the ground inch by inch I’ll take you straight back to your regiment while they’ll get lost in the storm.”

There was room now in the road for the three to ride abreast, and they kept close together. They heard once a shout behind them and saw the flash of a firearm in the white hurricane, but no bullet struck them, and they kept steadily on their course, Red Blaze directing with the sure instinct that comes of long use and habit.

Heavier and heavier grew the snow. There was but little wind now, and it came straight down. It seemed to Dick that the whole earth was blotted out by the white fall. He and the sergeant resigned themselves completely to the guidance of Red Blaze, who never veered an inch from the right path.

“If I didn’t know the way my hoss would,” he said. “I’d just give him his head an’ he’d take us straight to his warm stable in Townsville, an’ the two bundles of oats that I mean to give him. I reckon it was pretty smart of me, wasn’t it, to order a snowstorm an’ have it come just when it was needed.”

Again the cheerful eyes twinkled in the flaming face.

“You’re certainly a winner,” said Dick, “and you win for us all.”

The snow was now so deep in the pass that they could not proceed at great speed, but they did the best they could, and, as Red Blaze said, their best, although it might be somewhat slow, was certainly better than that of Skelly and his men. Dick believed in fact that the raiders had been compelled to abandon the pursuit.

When they reached a lower level, where the snow was far less dense, they stopped and listened. The sergeant’s ears had been trained to uncommon keenness by his life on the plains, and he could hear nothing but the sigh of the falling snow. Nor could Petty, who had fine ears himself.

They descended still further, and made another stop. It was snowing here also, but it was merely an ordinary fall, and they could get a long view back up the pass. They saw nothing there but earth and trees covered with snow. Looking in the other direction they saw the sunshine gleaming for a moment on a roof in Townsville.

“We’re all safe now,” said Red Blaze, “an’ we’ll be with the soldiers in another half hour. But just you two remember that mebbe the next time I couldn’t call up a snowstorm to cover us an’ save our lives.”

“Once is enough,” said Dick, “and, Mr. Petty, Sergeant Whitley and I want to thank you.”

Mittened hands met buckskinned ones in the strong grasp of friendship, and now, as they rode on, the whole village emerged into sight. There was the long train standing on the track, the smoke rising in spires from the neat houses, and then the figures of human beings.

The fall of snow was light in the valley and as soon as they reached the levels the three proceeded at a gallop. Dick saw Colonel Newcomb standing by the train, and springing from his horse he handed him the dispatch. The colonel opened it, and as he read Dick saw the glow appear upon his face.

“Fire up!” he said to Canby, the engineer, who stood near. “We start at once!”

The troops who were ready and waiting were hurried into the coaches, and the engine whistled for departure.

CHAPTER V. THE SINGER OF THE HILLS

As the engine whistled for the last time Dick sprang upon a car-step, one hand holding to the rail while with the other he returned the powerful grip of Red Blaze, who with his own unconfined hand grasped the bridles of the three horses, which had served them so well. Petty had received a reward thrust upon him by Colonel Newcomb, but Dick knew that the mountaineer’s chief recompense was the success achieved in the perilous task chosen for him.

“Good-bye, Mr. Mason,” said Red Blaze, “I’m proud to have knowed you an’ the sergeant, an’ to have been your comrade in a work for the Union.”

“Without you we should have failed.”

“It jest happened that I knowed the way. It seems to me that there’s a heap, a tremenjeous heap, in knowin’ the way. It gives you an awful advantage. Now you an’ your regiment are goin’ down thar in them Kentucky mountains. They’re mighty wild, winter’s here an’ the marchin’ will be about as bad as it could be. Them’s mostly Pennsylvania men with you, an’ they don’t know a thing ‘bout that thar region. Like as not you’ll be walkin’ right straight into an ambush, an’ that’ll be the end of you an’ them Pennsylvanians.”

“You’re a cheerful prophet, Red Blaze.”

“I meant if you didn’t take care of yourselves an’ keep a good lookout, which I know, of course, that you’re goin’ to do. I was jest statin’ the other side of the proposition, tellin’ what would happen to keerless people, but Colonel Newcomb an’ Major Hertford ain’t keerless people. Good-bye, Mr. Mason. Mebbe I’ll see you ag’in before this war is over.”

“Good-bye, Red Blaze. I truly hope so.”

The train was moving now and with a last powerful grasp of a friendly hand Dick went into the coach. It was the first in the train. Colonel Newcomb and Major Hertford sat near the head of it, and Warner was just sitting down not far behind them. Dick took the other half of the seat with the young Vermonter, who said, speaking in a whimsical tone:

“You fill me with envy, Dick. Why wasn’t it my luck to go with you, Sergeant Whitley, and the man they call Red Blaze on that errand and help bring back with you the message of President Lincoln? But I heard what our red friend said to you at the car-step. There’s a powerful lot in knowing the way, knowing where you’re going, and what’s along every inch of the road. My arithmetic tells me that it is often fifty per cent of marching and fighting.”

“I think you are right,” said Dick.

A little later he was sound asleep in his seat, and at the command of Colonel Newcomb he was not disturbed. His had been a task, taxing to the utmost both body and mind, and, despite his youth and strength, it would take nature some time to replace what had been worn away.

He slept on while the boys in the train talked and laughed. Stern discipline was not yet enforced in either army, nor did Colonel Newcomb consider it necessary here. These lads, so lately from the schools and farms, had won a victory and they had received the thanks of the President. They had a right to talk about it among themselves and a little vocal enthusiasm now might build up courage and spirit for a greater crisis later.

The colonel, moreover, gave glances of approval and sympathy to his gallant young aide, who in the seat next to the window with his head against the wall slept so soundly. All the afternoon Dick slept on, his breathing regular and steady. The train rattled and rumbled through the high mountains, and on the upper levels the snow was falling fast.

Darkness came, and supper was served to the troops, but at the colonel’s command Dick was not awakened. Nature had not yet finished her task of repairing. There was worn tissue still to be replaced, and the nerves had not yet recovered their full steadiness.

So Dick slept on, while the night deepened and the snow continued to drive against the window panes. Nor did he awake until morning, when the train stopped at a tiny station in the hills. There was no snow here, but the sun, just rising, threw no heat, and icicles were hanging from every cliff. Dispatches were waiting for Colonel Newcomb, and after breakfast he announced to his staff:

“I have orders from Washington to divide my regiment. The Southern forces are operating at three points in Kentucky. They are gathering at Columbus on the Mississippi, at Bowling Green in the south, and here in the mountains there is a strong division under an officer named Zollicoffer. Scattered forces of our men, the principal one led by a Virginian named Thomas, are endeavoring to deal with Zollicoffer. The Secretary of War regrets the division of the regiment, but he thinks it necessary, as all our detached forces must be strengthened. I go on with the main body of the regiment to join Grant, near the mouth of the Ohio. You, Major Hertford, will take three companies and march south in search of Thomas, but be careful that you are not snapped up by the rebels on the way. And if you can get volunteers and join Thomas with your force increased threefold, so much the better.”

“I shall try my best, sir,” said Major Hertford, “and thank you for this honor.”

Dick and Warner stood by without a word, but Dick cast an appealing look at Colonel Newcomb.

“Yes, I know,” said the Colonel, who caught the glance. “This is your state, and you wish to go with Major Hertford. You are to do so. So is your friend, Lieutenant Warner, and, Major Hertford, I also lend to you Sergeant Whitley, who is a man of much experience and who has already proved himself to be of great value.”

The three saluted and were grateful. They longed for action, which they believed would come more quickly with Major Hertford’s column. A little later, when military form permitted it, the two boys thanked Colonel Newcomb in words.

“Maybe you won’t thank me a few days from now,” said the colonel a little grimly, “but I am hopeful that our plans here in Eastern Kentucky will prove successful, and that before long you will be able to join the great forces in the western part of the state. You are both good boys and now, good-bye.”

The preparations for the mountain column, as Dick and Warner soon called it, had been completed. They were on foot, but they were well armed, well clothed, and they had supplies loaded in several wagons, purchased hastily in the village. A dozen of the strong mountaineers volunteered to be drivers and guides, and the major was glad to have them. Later, several horses were secured for the officers, but, meanwhile, the train was ready to depart.

Colonel Newcomb waved them farewell, the faithful and valiant Canby opened the throttle, and the train steamed away. The men in the little column, although eager for their new task, watched its departure with a certain sadness at parting with their comrades. The train became smaller and smaller, then it was only a spiral of smoke, and that, too, soon died on the clear western horizon.

“And now to find Thomas!” said Major Hertford, who retained Dick and Warner on his staff, practically its only members, in fact. “It looks odd to hunt through the mountains for a general and his army, but we’ve got it to do, and we’ll do it.”

The horses for the officers were obtained at the suggestion of Sergeant Whitley, and the little column turned southward through the wintry forest. Dick and Warner were riding strong mountain ponies, but at times, and in order to show that they considered themselves no better than the others, they dismounted and walked over the frozen ground. The greatest tasks were with the wagons containing the ammunition and supplies. The mountain roads were little more than trails, sometimes half blocked with ice or snow and then again deep in mud. The winter was severe. Storms of rain, hail, sleet and snow poured upon them, but, fortunately, they were marching through continuous forests, and the skilled mountaineers, under any circumstances, knew how to build fires, by the side of which they could dry themselves, and sleep warmly at night.

They also heard much gossip as they advanced to meet General Thomas, who had been sent from Louisville to command the Northern troops in the Kentucky mountains. Thomas was a Virginian, a member of the old regular army, a valiant, able, and cautious man, who chose to abide by the Union. Many other Virginians, some destined to be as famous as he, and a few more so, wondered why he had not gone with his seceding state, and criticised him much, but Thomas, chary of speech, hung to his belief, and proved it by action.

Dick learned, too, that the Southern force operating against Thomas, while actively led by Zollicoffer, was under the nominal command of one of his own Kentucky Crittendens. Here he saw again how terribly his beloved state was divided, like other border states. General Crittenden’s father was a member of the Federal Congress at Washington, and one of his brothers was a general also, but on the other side. But he was to see such cases over and over again, and he was to see them to a still greater and a wholesale degree, when the First Maryland regiment of the North and the First Maryland regiment of the South, recruited from the same district, should meet face to face upon the terrible field of Antietam.