CHAPTER XV. SHORTY NEARLY GOT MARRIED
BREAKING UP A BAD REBEL NEST IS NO PICNIC.
WHEN physical exhaustion called a halt in the fracas, Mrs. Bolster wasseated on Jeff Hackberry's breast with her sinewy hands clutching hislong hair, and her thumb, with a cruel, long nail, pressing the ball ofhis one good eye. Shorty was holding down one of the guerrillas who hadtried to climb on his back when he was grappling with Hackberry. Si hadknocked one guerrilla senseless with his gun-barrel, and now came to abreathless standstill in a struggle with another for the possessionof his gun. The children and dogs had broken up into several smallerstormcenters, in each of which a vicious fight was going on. In someit was dog and dog; in some child and child, and in others dogs andchildren mixed.
Then they all halted to observe the outcome of the discussion betweenMrs. Bolster and Jeff Hackberry.
"Holler 'nuff, Jeff, or out goes yer last light," commanded Mrs.Bolster, emphasizing her words by rising a little, and then settlingdown on Jeff's breast with a force that drove near every spoonful ofbreath out of him.
"'Frony, le' me up," he begged in gasps.{206}
"Mrs. Bolster," she reminded him, with another jounce upon his chest.
"Mrs. Bolster, le' me up. I'd 'a' got away with that 'ere Yank ef ye'hedn't tripped me with them long legs o' your'n."
"I'm right smart on the trip, aint I," she grinned. "I never seed a manyit that I couldn't throw in any sort of a rastle."
"Le' me up, Mrs. Bolster, an le's begin over agin, an' yo' keep out,"begged Hackberry.
"Not much I won't. I ain't that kind of a chicken," she asserted withanother jounce. "When I down a man I down him fer good, an' he nevergits up agin 'till he caves entirely. If I let yo' up, will yo' swar toquite down peaceable as a lamb, an' make the rest do the same?"
"Never," asserted Hackberry. "I'm ergwine to have it out with thatYank."
"No you haint," she replied with a still more emphatic jounce that madeHackberry use all the breath left him to groan.
"I'll quit," he said, with his next instalment of atmosphere.
"Will yo' agree t' let me marry this Yank, an' t' give me away as myoldest friend, nearest o' kin, an' best man?" she inquired, risingsufficiently to let him take in a full breath and give a free, unforcedanswer.
"Nary a time," he shrieked. "I'll die fust, afore I'll 'low yo' t' marryary other man but me."
"Then you'll lose yor blinker, yo' pigheaded, likker-guzzling', ornery,no-account sand-hill crane," she said, viciously coming down on hischest with{207} her full weight and sticking the point of hei nailagainst his eye. "I wouldn't marry yo' if ye wuz the last nubbin' inthe Lord A'mighty's crib, and thar'd never be another crap o' men. Ye'llnever git no chance to make me yer slave, and beat me and starve me t'death as yo' did Nance Brill. I ain't gwine t' fool with yer pervarsitynary a minnit longer. Say this instant whether yo'll do as I say with afreewill and good heart, or out goes yer peeper." "I promise," groanedJeff.{208 }
"Yo' sw'ar hit?" she demanded.
"Yes, I sw'ar hit," answered Jeff.
Mrs. Bolster rose, and confirmed the contract by giving him a kick inthe side with her heavy brogan.
"That's jest a lovetap," she remarked, "'t let yo' know t' le' me alonehereafter. Now, le's straighten things around here fer a pleasant time."
She initiated her proposed era of good feeling by a sounding kick in theribs of the most obstreperous of the dogs, and a slap on the face of a12-year-old girl, who was the noisest and most pugnacious of the lot.Each of these set up a howl, but there was a general acquiescence in herassertion of authority.
JEFF SAT UP AND RUBBED HIMSELF 208]
Jeff Hackberry sat up, scratched and rubbed himself, seemed to betrying to once more get a full supply of air in his lungs, and turneda one-eyed glare on his surroundings. The guerrilla whom Si had knockeddown began to show signs of returning consciousness, but no one paid anyattention to him. One of the other two pulled out a piece of tobacco,split it in two, put the bigger half in his mouth and handed theremainder to his partner. Both began chewing meditatively and lookingwith vacant eyes for the next act in the drama. Shorty regained his gun,and he and Si looked inquiringly at one another and the mistress of theranch.
"Come on up t' the house," she said, starting in that direction. Therest followed, with Si and Shorty in the lead.
The boys gazed around them with strong curiosity. The interior was likethat of the other log cabins they had seen--a rough puncheon floor forthe single room, a fireplace as big as a barn door, built of rough{209}stones, with a hearth of undressed flat stones, upon which sat a fewclumsy cooking utensils of heavy cast-iron, three-legged stools forchairs, a table of rough whip-sawed boards held together by wooden pins.In two of the corners were beds made of a layer of poles resting upon astick supported at one end upon a log in the wall and at the other enda forked stick driven between the puncheons into the ground below.Upon this was a pile of beech leaves doing duty as a mattress. Thebed-clothes were a mass of ragged fabrics, sheepskins, etc., used in thedaytime for saddle-blankets and at night upon the bed. There had beenadded to them, however, looking particularly good and rich in contrastwith their squalor, several blankets with "U. S." marked upon them.Around the room were canteens, shoes, and other soldier belongings.
"Have they killed and robbed the men to whom these belonged, or merelytraded whisky for them?" was the thought that instantly flashed throughSi's and Shorty's minds. The answer seemed to be favorable to murder androbbery. "Set down an' make yourselves at home. I'll git yo' out suthin't' wet yer whistles," said Mrs. Bolster, wreathing as much graciousnessas she could into her weathered-wood countenance. She apparently kickedat the same instant a stool toward them with her left foot, and a dogout of the way with her right, a performance that excited Shorty'sadmiration.
"When I see a woman kick in different directions with both feet at thesame time, I understood how dangerous her trip would be in a rastle," hesaid afterward.{210}
Si and Shorty shoved two of the stools so that they could sit with theirbacks to the wall, still holding their guns.
The guerrillas came filing in, with an expectant look on their faces.Even Jeff Hackberry looked more thirstily longing than wrathful. The manwho had fallen under Si's gunbarrel had gotten able to walk, wasrubbing his head and moaning with the design of attracting attention andsympathy.
Mrs. Bolster produced a key from her pocket. The others understood whatthis meant. They lifted aside some sacks of meal and shelled corn, andrevealed a puncheon which had been cut in two, and the short piece wasgarnished by rude iron hinges and hasp, all probably taken from someburned barn. The hasp was locked into the staple by one of the heavypadlocks customary on the plantations, and this Mr. Bolster proceededto open with her key. When the puncheon was turned up it revealed a pitbeneath, from which she lifted a large jug of whisky. She poured someout in a tin cup and handed it to Shorty.
"Take a big swig," she said; "hit's mouty good stuff--ole JeffThompson's brewin' from yaller corn raised on rich bottom land."
Si trembled as he saw his partner take the cup. Shorty smelled itappreciatively. "That is good stuff," he said. "Roses ain't nowherealongside."
He put the cup to his lips and took a sip.
"Tastes as good as it smells," he said, heartily, while the mouths ofthe guerrillas were watering. He put the cup again to his lips, as ifto take a deep draft. Then came a short cough and a tremendous{211}sputter, followed by more painful coughing and strangling.
"Jest my infernal luck," gasped Shorty. "I would talk, an' I got somedown the wrong way.
"Lord, it's burnin' my lights out. Gi' me a drink o' water, somebody."
One of the children handed him a gourdful of water, while he continuedto cough and sputter and blame himself for talking when he was drinking.
The woman handed the cup to Si, who feared that the liquor might bepoisoned or drugged. He made a pretense of drinking, and then handed thecup back, making motions that his t
hroat was so sore that he could notdrink much. Mrs. Bolster looked at him suspiciously, but the clamor ofthe guerillas distracted her attention, and she turned to supply them.
"No, Jeff Hackberry," she said firmly, "yo' can't have more'n twofingers. I know yo' of old, an' jest how much yo' orter tote. Twofingers'll make yo' comfortable an' sociable; three'll raise the devilin yo,' an' four'll make yo' dancin' drunk, when yo'll have t' be helddown. Yo'll have jest two fingers, an' not a drap more."
"Jest another finger, 'Frony. Remember, yo've bin orful rough on me, an'I need more. I'll promise t' be good," pleaded Hackberry.
"No, not a drap more'n two fingers now. If yo' behave yo'self I'll giveyo' another two fingers by-an'-by."
"Hackberry swallowed his portion at a thirsty gulp and sat down on thedoor-sill to let it do its invigorating work. The other two guerrillaswere{212} given each two fingers, and the man whom Si knocked downhad his moanings rewarded by three fingers and a liberal application inaddition to the wound on his head, which he declared was much relievedby it.
"Set your guns up agin the wall an' ack nacherul," commanded Mrs.Bolster. "Nobody's a-gwine to hurt yo'. The 'Squire'll be here soon,we'll git spliced, an' have a good time all around."
The noisy barking of the dogs announced the approach of someone.
"Lord, I hope that's 'Squire Corson," said Mrs. Bolster, running eagerlyto the door. "If hit's him, we kin go right ahead with the weddin'."
"If that's the 'Squire," said Shorty, in a low whisper, without turninghis head, "we'll grab our guns and fight to the death. We may clean outthis gang."
Si's attention had been in the meanwhile attracted to some boxesconcealed under the beds, and his curiosity was aroused as to what suchunusual things in a cabin might contain.
"No; hit's Capt. Sol. Simmons," said she in a tone of disappointmentmixed with active displeasure. "Now, he'll be cavortin' and tearin'around, and wantin' t' kill somebody. I wish he wuz whar hit's a gooddeal hotter."
She came over to where the boys were sitting, and said in a low tone:
"This man's allers makin' trouble, an' he's bad from his boots up.Keep a stiff upper lip, both on yo', an' we'll try t' manage him. Don'tweaken. Hit'll do no good. He'll be wuss'n ever then."{213}
Si and Shorty instinctively felt for the revolvers in their pockets.
The newcomer tied his horse to a sapling and strode into the house. Theguerrillas seemed rather more fearful than otherwise to see him, but methim with manners that were ranged from respectful by Jeff Hackberry toabsolute servility by the others. He was a burly, black-bearded man,wearing a fairly-good uniform of a rebel Captain. His face showed thathe was a bully, and a cruel one.
He acknowledged in an overbearing way the greetings of the others, andcalled out imperiously:
"'Frony, gi' me a stiff dram o' yer best at wunst. My throat's drier'n alime-kiln. Bin ridin' all mornin'."
"Folks wantin' likker don't say must t' me, but will yo', an' please,"she answered sulkily.
"'Must,' 'please,' yo' hag," he said savagely. "Talk that a-way to me.I'll 'please' yo'. I've killed two Yankees this mornin', an' I'm not inthe humor to fool around with an old pennyroyal huzzy like yo'. Gi' mesome whisky at wunst, or I'll baste yo'."
If ever Mrs. Bolster had been favorably disposed to him, she could notendure to have him treat her this way before Shorty. She would assertherself before him if ever.
She put her arms akimbo and retorted vigorously:
"Nary drap o' likker yo'll git from me, Sol. Simmons. Go and git yerlikker whar y're welcome. Y're not welcome here. I don't keer if yo'have killed two Yankees or 20 Yankees. Y're allers talkin' about killin'Yankees, but nobody never sees none that y've killed. I'm a betterConfederit than yo'{214} ever dared be. I'm doin' more for the SouthernConfedrisy. Y're allers a-blowin' while I'm allers adoin.' Everybodyknows that. Talk about the two Yankees y've killed, an' which nobody'sseed, here I've brung two Yankees right outen their camps, an' have 'emto show. More'n that, they're gwine to jine we'uns."
She indicated the two boys with a wave of her hand. Simmons seemed tosee them for the first time.
"Yankees here, an' yo' haint killed 'em," he yelled. He put his hand tohis revolver and stepped forward. The two boys jumped up and snatchedtheir guns, but before another move could be made Mrs. Bolster'sunfailing trip brought Simmons heavily to the floor, with his revolverhalf out the holster. In an instant she sat down heavily upon him, andlaid her brawny hand upon his pistol. The dogs and children gatheredaround in joyous expectation of a renewal of general hostilities. Butthe dogs broke away at the scent or sight of someone approaching.
"Mebbe that's 'Squire Corson,'" said Mrs. Bolster with a renewed flushof pleasant anticipation.
Instead, a rather, good-looking young rebel officer wearing a Major'ssilver stars dismounted from his horse and, followed by two men, enteredthe cabin.
"Hello, Simmons," said the Major in a tone of strong rebuke as soon ashe entered. "What in the world are you doing here? Is this the way youcarry out the General's orders? You're at your old tricks again. Youwere sent out here early this morning, to capture or drive awaythat Yankee picket at Raccoon Ford, so as to let Capt. Gillen comethrough{215} with his pack-mules. I expected to meet him here and goon with him. Your men have been waiting at the crossroads for you sincedaylight, while you've been loitering around the rear. I ought tohave you shot, and you would be if I reported this to the General. Youskulking whelp, you ought to be shot. But I'll give you one more chance.It may not be too late yet. Break for your place as fast as you can, andtake these whelps with you. I'll wait here till sundown for you. If youdon't report back to me by that time you'd better make your will. Jumpnow."
Mrs. Bolster had let go of Simmons as this exordium proceeded, as shefelt that he was in good hands.
As they disappeared the Major turned to Mrs. Bolster and inquired:
"Did Capt. Gillen get through with that quinine and guncaps?"
"They're thar," she said, pointing to the boxes under the beds.
"Very good. I've brought some men to take them away. We need them verybadly. Who are these men?"
Mrs. Bolster told her story about how they were tired of the Abolitionwar, and had yielded to her persuasions to join the Southern army.
The Major looked them over sharply, and began a close cross-questioningas to where they were born, what regiment they belonged to, how longthey had been in the service, what battles they had been engaged in andon what part of the field, where their regiment now was, its brigade,division and corps, commanders, etc., etc.{216}
As Shorty did not see any present occasion for lying, he had no troublein telling a convincing straightforward story. Si successfully workedthe loss-of-voice racket, and left the burden of conversation to hispartner.
The Major seemed satisfied, and said at the conclusion:
"Very good. I'll take you back with me when I return, and place you in agood regiment."
This was a new and startling prospect, which was almost too muchfor Shorty's self-control. For a minute he had wild thoughts ofassassinating the Major then and there, and making a run for life. Buthe decided to wait a little longer and see what would develop.
If Mrs. Bolster's hue had permitted she would have turned pale at thisthreatened loss of a husband and upsetting of all her plans. She merelygulped down a lump in her throat and seemed to be thinking.
She became very attentive to the Major, and brought for his edificationa private bottle of fine old whisky. She set about preparing somethingfor them to eat.
Again the dogs barked, and in walked a man dressed in the fatigueuniform of a Union soldier with the chevrons of a Sergeant. The boysgave a start of surprise, and a great one when they saw on his cap:
A 200 Ind. Vols.
Si would have sprung up to greet him, but Shorty laid a restraininghand, and whispered:{217}
"He don't belong to our regiment."
A second glance satisfied Si of this. While it is
hardly possibly for aman to know every other man in his regiment, yet in a little while therecomes something which enables him to know whether any man he meets doesor does not belong to his regiment.
The Major and Mrs. Bolster instantly recognized the newcomer.
"Awful glad to see you, Tuggers," said the Major, rising and shaking hishand. "Did you get through without any trouble?"
"Not a bit o' trouble, thanks to you and Mrs. Bolster here. She got methis uniform and this cap," said Tuggers, taking off the latter articleand scanning the lettering. "Rather more brass than I'm in the habit ofcarrying on top of my head, no matter how much I have in my face. I gotyour not giving me the positions of the Yankee regiments, for which Isuppose we must also thank Mrs. Bolster. I found them all correct. Asthe 200th Ind. was the farthest out, I had no difficulty getting throughthe rest of them by saying that I was on my way to my regiment. Ofcourse, I didn't come through the camp of the 200th Ind., but modestlysought a byroad which Mrs. Bolster had put me onto. I've got a lotof important letters from the mail in Nashville, among which are someletters for the General, which I am told are highly important. I'mmighty glad to be able to place them in your hands, and relieve myselfof the responsibility. Here they are. Thanks, I don't care if I do,since you press me so hard,"{218} said he, without change of voice, ashe handed over the letters and picked up the bottle and tin cup.
"Excuse me, Tuggers, for not asking you before," said the Major. "I wasso interested in you and your letters I forgot for the moment that youmight be thirsty. Help yourself."
"I didn't forget it," said Tuggers, pouring out a liberal dram. "Here'sto our deserving selves and our glorious Cause."
A shy girl of about eight had responded to Si's persistentencouragement, and sidled up to him, examining his buttons andaccouterments. Si gave her some buttons he had in his pocket, and showedher his knife and other trinkets in his pockets. The other childrenbegan to gather around, much interested in the elaborate dumb show hewas making of his inability to speak.
Again the dogs barked. Mrs. Bolster ran to the door. "Hit's 'SquireCorson," she exclaimed joyously, and hustled around to make extrapreparations for his entertainment.
The 'Squire entered, mopping his face with his bandana, and moving withthe deliberation and dignity consistent with his official position.
He looked at the boys with a severe, judicial eye, and gave the ominouslittle cough with which he was wont to precede sentences. But herecognized the Major and Tuggers, and immediately his attention wascentered in them. They were connected with Army Headquarters; they wererepositories of news which he could spread among his constituents.He greeted them effusively, and was only too glad to accept theirinvitation to sit down and drink. But{219} he suggested, with officialprudence, that they go out in front and sit under a tree where theycould converse wore at liberty.
"Afore you go out, 'Squire," said Mrs. Bolster, with an attempt atcoyness, "I want yo' t' do a little job fer me."
Shorty's hair tried to stand on end.
"Jest wait a little, my good woman," said the 'Squire patronizingly. "Iwant to talk to these gentlemen first; I kin 'tend to your matter anytime."
They lighted their pipes, and talked and talked, while Mrs. Bolsterfidgeted around in growing anxiety. Finally, as the sun was going down,she could stand it no longer, and approached the group.
"'Squire," she said, "I'm orferly anxious to have a little job o' minedone. 'Twon't take yo' five minits. Please 'tend to it right away."
"What is it she wants?" inquired the Major.
"I think she wants me to marry her to a Yankee deserter in there. Shewhispered suthin' o' that kind to me awhile ago."
"That reminds me," said the Major; "I want you to swear those two meninto the service of the Southern Confederacy. You might as well do itnow, if you please, for I want to take them back with me and put theminto a regiment."
"That won't give much of a honeymoon to Mrs. Bolster," grinned the'Squire.
"Well, we've all got to make sacrifices for the Cause," said the Major;"her honeymoon'll be the sweeter for being postponed. I've had topostpone mine."
"Well, bring the men out," said the 'Squire, pouring himself out anotherdrink.{220}
Si and Shorty had moved to the front door when Mrs. Bolster went out,and could hear the whole conversation. They looked at one another. Theirfaces were whiter than they had ever been on the field of battle.
"Take the oath of allegiance to the Southern Confederacy? Die right herea hundred times," surged through both their hearts.
Si pulled the bunches of firecrackers from his pocket, undid them beforethe children's wondering eyes. He went through a pantomime to tell themto take a coal from the fire, run out back with them, and touch it tothe fuses.
"Take a coal, run back, and tech it to them strings," said Shorty,forgetting himself in his excitement. "It'll be the greatest fun ye eversaw."
"What's that y're sayin'?" said Mrs. Bolster.
"Jest talkin' to the children," said Shorty, seeing with relief thechildren bolt out of the back door. He slipped his hand on his revolver,determined to kill the 'Squire, the Major, and the other three menbefore he would take a syllable of the oath.
"Come out here, men," said the Major authoritatively. Si slipped hishand into his pocket, grasped his revolver, and walked forward veryslowly.
"Ahem," said the 'Squire, with an official cough. "Raise yer righthands, and repeat these words after me, givin' your own names."
The other rebels took off their hats.
The dogs raised a clamor, which directed all eyes to the road. SolSimmons and the rest could be seen coming on a dead run.
"What does that mean?" said the Major anxiously.{221}
At the same instant there was a series of crashes behind the house;the firecrackers were going off like a volley of rifle-shots. The Majorwhirled around to see what that meant, and looked into the muzzle ofShorty's revolver.
"Surrender, or I'll kill you," shouted Shorty desperately. "Don't stop aminit. Throw up your hands, I tell you."
Si was making a similar demand on Tuggers, while the 'Squire wasstanding, open-mouthed, with the first word of the oath apparently stillon his tongue.
The Major sprang at Shorty, whose bullet cut his hair. The next bulletcaught the officer in the shoulder, and he reeled and went down. Si wasnot so fortunate with Tuggers, who succeeded in grappling him. Simmonsdashed by and struck Si, in passing, with his fist, which sent him tothe ground, with Tuggers on top.
The next minute the 'Squire, who was the only one who had anyopportunity to look, saw Yankees pop out of the brush and jump thefences in a long, irregular line which immediately surrounded thehouse. Capt. McGillicuddy cut down Simmons with his sword, and the restincontinently surrendered.
"We had got tired of waiting, and were on the point of dashing in,anyhow, when we heard the firecrackers," said Capt. McGillicuddy, afterthe prisoners had been secured and things quieted down. "That fellerthat I cut down was out there with a squad and caught sight of us, andstarted back this way, and I concluded to follow him up and jump thehouse. Neither of you hurt, are you?"{222}
"Not hurt a mite," answered Shorty cheerfully, "but it's the closestsqueak I ever had. Wouldn't go through it agin for a pile o' greenbacksbig as a cornshock. Say, Cap., you've made a ten-strike today that oughtto make you a Major. That house's plum full o' contraband, and there'sa lot o' important letters there. But, say, Cap., I want you to eitherkill that 'Squire or git him as fur away as possible. I ain't safe aminnit as long as him and that woman's a-nigh me."