CHAPTER XXII
THE VALLEY PIKE
As he moved away from the stone house, the vicinity of Ashby and theline of Tigers behind the fence, he became aware that not a smallportion of Wheat's Battalion had broken ranks and was looting thewagons. There were soldiers like grey ants about a sutler's wagon.Steve, struggling and shouldering boldly enough now, managed to getwithin hailing distance. Men were standing on the wheels, drawing outboxes and barrels and throwing them down into the road, where the antsswarmed to the attack. Not the Tigers alone, but a number of Ashby's menas well engaged in the general business. The latter, either not sohungry or more valiant to abstain from the smaller rifling, turned tothe plunder of horses. There were horses enough, dead and wounded, alongthat frightful road. Others were unhurt, still harnessed to wagons, orcorralled in fence corners, or huddled with prisoners in the troddenfields. Horses, to the trooper of the Valley, were as horses in the tenyears' war at Troy--the prized spoil of battle, the valued trophies,utilities outweighing all filagree spoil. Each man of Ashby's owned thehorse he rode, burned to provide himself with a second mount, and flamedto be able to say at home, "This horse I took at Middletown, just beforewe drove the Yankees out of the Valley and ended the war!" "Home," formany of them was not at all distant--gallop a few miles, deposit theprize, return, catch up before Winchester! Wild courage, much manliness,much chivalry, ardent devotion to Ashby and the cause, individualism ofa citizen soldiery, and a naive indiscipline all their own--such wereAshby's men! Not a few now acted upon the suggestion of the devil whotempts through horse flesh. In the dust they went by Steve like figuresof a frieze.
Inefficient even in plundering, he found himself possessed of but ahandful of crackers, a tin of sardines--a comestible he had never seenbefore and did not like when he tasted it--and a bottle of what hethought wine but proved vinegar. Disgusted, he moved to the next wagon,overswarmed like the first by grey ants. This time it was ale,unfamiliar still, but sufficiently to his liking. "Gawd! Jest to drinkwhen you're thirsty, and eat when you're hungry, and sleep when you'resleepy--"
A drum beat, a bugle blew. _Fall in! Fall in!_ Officers passed fromwagon to wagon. They were ready enough with the flats of their swords."For shame, men, for shame! _Fall in! Fall in!_ General Jackson isbeyond Newtown by now. You don't want him to have to _wait_ for you, doyou? _Fall in!_"
The Valley pike, in the region of Middletown, proved a cumbered path.From stone fence to stone fence, in the middle trough of dust, and onthe bordering of what had been, that morning, dew-gemmed grass andflower, War the maniac had left marks. Overturned wagons formedbarriers around which the column must wind. Some were afire; the smokeof burning straw and clothing and foodstuffs mingling with the yetlow-lying powder smoke and with the pall of Valley dust. Horses laystark across the way, or, dying, stared with piteous eyes. The sky waslike a bowl of brass, and in the concave buzzards were sailing. Allalong there was underfoot much of soldiers' impedimenta--knapsacks,belts, accoutrements of all kinds, rolled blankets and oilcloths,canteens. Dead men did not lack. They lay in strange postures, and onall the dust was thick. There were many wounded; the greater number ofthese had somehow reached the foul grass and trampled flowers of thewayside. Prisoners were met; squads brought in from the road, fromfields and woods. There was one group, men and horses covered with thedust of all time, disarmed, hatless, breathless, several bleeding fromsabre cuts. One among them--a small man on a tall horse--indulged inbravado. "What are you going to do with us now you've got us? You'venowhere to take us to! Your damned capital's fallen--fell this morning!Yes, it did! News certain. Rebellion's over and Jack Ketch's waiting foryou--waiting for every last dirty ragamuffin and slave-driver that callshimself general or president, and for the rest of you, too! Pity youdidn't have just one neck so's he could do the whole damn thirteenmillions of you at once!--Jeff Davis and Lee and Johnston were hanged atnoon. This very moment Little Mac's in Richmond, marching down whateveryour damned Pennsylvania Avenue's called--"
A negro body servant marching in the rear of one of the contemptuouscompanies broke ranks and rushed over to the reviling soldier. "You damnpo' white trash, shet yo' mouf or I'll mek you! Callin' Main Street'Pennsylvania Avenue,' and talkin' 'bout hangin' gent'men what you ain'tgot 'bility in you ter mek angry enuff ter swear at you! 'N Richmon'fallen! Richmon' ain' half as much fallen as you is! Richmon' ain' nevergwine ter fall. I done wait on Marse Robert Lee once't at Shirley, an heain't er gwine ter let it! '_Pennsylvania_ Avenue!'"
Half a mile from Middletown they came up with a forlorn little company.On a high bank above the road, huddled beneath three cedars, appearedthe theatrical troupe which had amused General Banks's army inStrasburg. Men and women there were, a dozen actors, and they had withthem a cart bearing their canvas booth and the poor finery of theirwardrobe. One of the women nursed a baby; they all looked down likewraiths upon the passing soldiers.
Firing broke out ahead. "Newtown," said the men beside Steve. "I've gotfriends there. Told 'em when we came up the Valley after Kernstown we'dcome down again! 'N here we are, bigger 'n life and twice as natural!That's Rockbridge making that awful noise. Must be a Yankeebattery--There it opens! Oh, we're going to have a chance, too!"
They were moving at double-quick. Steve simulated a stumble, caughthimself, groaned and fell out of line. The wall to the left blazed. Heuttered a yell and sprang back. "That's right!" said the man. "It'staken most a year to learn it, but you feel a whole heap safer in linethan out of it when firing's going on. That's a nice little--what d'yecall it?--they've planted there--"
"Avalanche," panted Steve. "O Gawd!" A minie ball had pierced theother's brain. He fell without a sound, and Steve went on.
The troops entered the hamlet at a run, passing two of the Rockbridgeguns planted on a hillock and hurling shell against a Federal battery atthe far end of the street. There was hot fighting through the place,then the enemy, rallied here, broke again and dispersed to the westward.The grey soldiers swept through the place, and the people with tears andlaughter cried them welcome. On the porch of a comfortable house stood acomfortable, comely matron, pale with ardent patriotism, the happy tearsrunning down her cheeks. Parched as were their throats the troops foundvoice to cheer, as always, when they passed through these Valley towns.They waved their colours vigorously; their ragged bit of a band played"Old Virginny never tire." The motherly soul on the porch, unconsciousof self, uplifted, tremulous with emotion, opened wide her arms, "All ofyou run here and kiss me!"
Late afternoon came and the army yet skirmished, marched, marched,skirmished on the Valley pike. The heat decreased, but dust and thirstremained. Fatigue was the abominable thing. "Gawd!" thought Steve. "Ican't stand it any longer. I got ter quit, and ef I could shoot thatlieutenant, I would." The man whom the closing of the ranks had broughtupon his left began to speak in a slow, refined voice. "There was abook published in England a year or so ago. It brings together oldobservations, shoots and theories, welds them, and produces a Thor'shammer that's likely to crack some heads. Once upon a time, it seems, wewent on four feet. It's a pity to have lost so valuable a faculty. Oh,Jupiter! we are tired!"
A man behind put in his word. "To-morrow's Sunday. Two Sundays ago wewere at Meechum's River, and since then we've marched most two hundredmiles, and fought two battles and a heap of skirmishes! I reckonthere'll be a big fight to-morrow, with Old Jack jerking his hand in theair as they say he's been doing! 'N all to the sound of church bells!Oh, Moses, I'm tired!"
At sunset the bugles blew halt. The men dropped down on the tarnishedearth, on the vast, spectacular road to Winchester. They cared not somuch for supper, faint as they were; they wanted sleep. Supper theyhad--all that could be obtained from the far corners of haversacks andall that, with abounding willingness, the neighbouring farmhouses couldscrape together--but when it came to sleep--. With nodding heads the menwaited longingly for roll call and tattoo, and instead there came anorder from the front. "_A night march!_ O Lord, have mercy, forStonewall Ja
ckson never does." _Fall in! Fall in! Column Forward!_
When they came to the Opequon they had a skirmish with a Massachusettsregiment which fired a heavy volley into the cavalry ahead, driving itback upon the 33d Virginia, next in column. The 33d broke, then rallied.Other of the Stonewall regiments deployed in the fields and the 27thadvanced against the opposing force, part of Banks's rearguard. It gaveway, disappearing in the darkness of the woods. The grey column, pushingacross the Opequon, came into a zone of Federal skirmishers andsharpshooters ambushed behind stone fences.
Somewhere about midnight Steve, walking in about the worst dream he hadever had, determined that no effort was too great if directed towardwaking. It was a magic lantern dream--black slides painted only with starsand fireflies, succeeded by slides in which there was a moment's violentillumination, stone fences leaping into being as the musket fire ran along.A halt--a company deployed--the foe dispersed, streaming off into thedarkness--the hurt laid to one side for the ambulances--_Column Forward!_Sometimes a gun was unlimbered, trained upon the threatening breastwork andfired. Once a shell burst beneath a wagon that had been drawn into thefields. It held, it appeared, inflammable stores. Wagon and contents shotinto the air with a great sound and glare, and out of the light about theplace came a frightful crying. Men ran to right and left to escape the rainof missiles; then the light died out, and the crying ceased. The columnwent on slowly, past dark slides. Its progress seemed that of a snail army.Winchester lay the fewest of miles away, but somewhere there waslegerdemain. The fewest of miles stretched like a rubber band. The troopsmarched for three minutes, halted, marched again, halted, marched, halted.To sleep--to sleep! _Column Forward!--Column Forward!_
There was a bridge to cross over a wide ditch. Steve hardly broke hisdream, but here he changed the current. How he managed he could scarcehave told, but he did find himself under the bridge where at once he laydown. The mire and weed was like a blissful bed. He closed his eyes.Three feet above was the flooring, and all the rearguard passing over.It was like lying curled in the hollow of a drum, a drum beatendraggingly and slow. "Gawd!" thought Steve. "It sounds like a DeadMarch."
He slept, despite the canopy of footsteps. He might have lain like a logtill morning but that at last the flooring of the bridge rebelled. Asection of a battery, kept for some hours at Middletown, found itselfaddressed by a courier, jaded, hoarse as a raven of the night. "GeneralJackson says, 'Bring up these guns.' He says, 'Make haste.'" The batterylimbered up and came with a heavy noise down the pike, through thenight. Before it was the rearguard; the artillery heard the changedsound as the men crossed the wooden bridge. The rearguard went on; theguns arrived also at the ditch and the overtaxed bridge. The Tredegariron gun went over and on, gaining on the foot, with intent to pass. Thehowitzer, following, proved the last straw. The bridge broke. A gunwheel went down, and amid the oaths of the drivers a frightened screechcame from below. "O Gawd! lemme get out of this!"
Pulled out, he gave an account of his cut foot, piteous enough. Thelieutenant listened. "The 65th? Scamp, I reckon, but flesh is weak!Hasn't been exactly a circus parade for any of us. Let him ride, men--ifever we get this damned wheel out! Keep an eye on him, Fleming!--Now,all together!--Pull, White Star!--Pull, Red Star!"
The column came to Kernstown about three o'clock in the morning. Dead aswere the troops the field roused them. "Kernstown! Kernstown! We're backagain."
"Here was where we crossed the pike--there's the old ridge. Griffintearing up his cards--and Griffin's dead at McDowell."
"That was Fulkerson's wall--that shadow over there! There's the bankwhere the 65th fought.--Kernstown! I'm mighty tired, boys, but I've gota peaceful certainty that that was the only battle Old Jack's ever goingto lose!"
"Old Jack didn't lose it. Garnett lost it."
"That ain't a Stonewall man said that! General Garnett's in trouble. Ireckon didn't anybody lose it. Shields had nine thousand men, and hejust gained it!--Shields the best man they've had in the Valley.Kernstown!--Heard what the boys at Middletown called Banks? _Mr.Commissary Banks._ Oh, law! that pesky rearguard again!"
The skirmish proved short and sharp. The Federal rearguard gave way,fell back on Winchester; the Confederate column, advance, main and rear,heard in the cold and hollow of the night the order: _Halt. Stack arms!Break ranks!_ From regiment to regiment ran a further word. "One hour.You are to rest one hour, men. Lie down."
In the first grey streak of dawn a battery which had passed in turn eachsegment of the column, came up with the van, beyond Kernstownbattlefield, and halted upon a little rise of ground. All aroundstretched grey, dew-wet fields and woods, and all around lay an army,sleeping, strange sight in the still and solemn light, with the birdscheeping overhead! The guns stopped, the men got down from limber andcaisson, the horses were unhitched. "An hour's sleep--Kernstownbattlefield!"
An officer whose command lay in the field to the left, just beyond agreat breach that had been made in the stone fence, arose from the cloakhe had spread in the opening and came over to the guns. "Good-morning,Randolph! Farmers and soldiers see the dawn!
Light thickens; and the crow Makes wing to the rooky wood.
The poor guns! Even they look overmarched." As he spoke he stroked thehowitzer as though it had been a living thing.
"We've got with us a stray of yours," said the artilleryman. "Says hehas a cut foot, but looks like a skulker. Here you, Mr.Under-the-Bridge! come from behind that caisson--"
Out of a wood road, a misty opening overarched by tall and misty trees,came two or three horsemen, the foremost of whom rode up to the battery."Good-morning, Randolph! General Jackson will be by in a moment. GeneralEwell lies over there on the Front Royal road. He has eaten breakfast,and is clanking his spurs and swearing as they swore in Flanders." Hepointed with his gauntleted hand, turning as he did so in the saddle.The action brought recognition of Cleave's presence upon the road.Stafford ceased speaking and sat still, observing the other withnarrowed eyes.
Cleave addressed the figure, which, there being no help for it, had comefrom behind the caisson. "You, Dagg, of course! Straggling ordeserting--I wonder which this time! Are you not ashamed?"
"Gawd, major! I just couldn't keep up. I got a cut foot--"
"Sit down on that rock.--Take off your shoe--what is left of it. Now,let me see. Is that the cut, that scratch above the ankle?"
"It ain't how deep it is. It's how it hurts."
"There is no infantryman to-day who is not footsore and tired. Only thestraggler or deserter has as few marks as you to show. There is thecompany, down the road, in the field. To-night I shall find out if youhave been with it all the day. Go! You disgrace the very mountains whereyou were born--"
Beyond the guns was a misty bend of the road. The light was stronger, inthe east a slender streamer of carnation; the air dank, cool and still.On the edge of Kernstown battlefield a cock crew; a second horn camefaintly. Very near at hand sounded a jingle of accoutrement; StonewallJackson, two or three of the staff with him, came around the turn andstopped beside the guns. The men about them and the horses, and on theroadside, drew themselves up and saluted. Jackson gave his slow quietnod. He was all leaf bronze from head to foot, his eyes just glintingbeneath the old forage cap. He addressed the lieutenant. "You willadvance, sir, in just three quarters of an hour. There are batteries inplace upon the ridge before us. You will take position there, and youwill not leave until ordered." His eyes fell upon Stafford. "Have youcome from General Ewell?"
"Yes, general. He sends his compliments, and says he is ready."
"Good! Good!--What is this soldier doing here?" He looked at Steve.
"It is a straggler, sir, from my regiment. Lieutenant Randolph pickedhim up--"
"Found him under a bridge, sir. I'd call him a deserter--"
Steve writhed as though, literally, the eyes were cold steel and hadpinned him down. "Gawd, general! I didn't desert! Cross my heart and mayI go to hell if I did! I was
awful tired--hungry and thirsty--and myhead swimming--I just dropped out, meaning to catch up after a bit! Ihad a sore foot. Major Cleave's awful hard on me--"
"You're a disgrace to your company," said Cleave. "If we did not needeven shadows and half men you would be drummed home to Thunder Run,there to brag, loaf, and rot--"
Steve began to whine. "I meant to catch up, I truly did!" His eyes,shifting from side to side, met those of Stafford. "Gawd, I'm lost--"
Stafford regarded his quondam prisoner curiously enough. His gaze had init something of cruelty, of pondering, and of question. Steve writhed."I ain't any better 'n anybody else. Life's awful! Everybody in theworld's agin me. Gawd knows Major Cleave's so--" Cleave made a sound ofcontempt.
Stafford spoke. "I do not think he's actually a deserter. I remember hisface. I met him near Middletown, and he gave me his regiment andcompany. There are many stragglers."
Steve could have fallen and worshipped. "Don't care whether he did itfor me, or jest 'cause he hates that other one! He does hate him! 'N Ihate him, too--sending me to the guardhouse every whip-stitch!" This tohimself; outside he tried to look as though he had carried the coloursfrom Front Royal, only dropping them momentarily at that unfortunatebridge. Jackson regarded him with a grey-blue eye unreconciled, butfinally made his peculiar gesture of dismissal. The Thunder Run mansaluted and stumbled from the roadside into the field, the dead Tiger'smusket in the hollow of his arm, his face turned toward Company A. Backin the road Jackson turned his eyes on Cleave. "Major, in half an houryou will advance with your skirmishers. Do as well as you have doneheretofore and you will do well--very well. The effect of ColonelBrooke's wound is graver than was thought. He has asked to be retired.After Winchester you will have your promotion."
With his staff he rode away--a leaf brown figure, looming large in themisty half light, against the red guidons of the east. Stafford wentwith him. Randolph, his cannoneers and drivers dropped beside the piecesand were immediately asleep--half an hour now was all they had. Thehorses cropped the pearled wayside grass. Far away the cocks werecrowing. In the east the red bannerols widened. There came a faintblowing of bugles. Cleave stooped and took up his cloak.
Steve, stumbling back over the wet field, between the ranks of sleepingmen, found Company A--that portion of it not with the skirmishers. Everysoul was asleep. The men lay heavily, some drawn into a knot, otherswith arms flung wide, others on their faces. They lay in the dank andchilly dawn as though death had reaped the field. Steve lay down besidethem. "Gawd! when will this war be over?"
He dreamed that he was back at Thunder Run, crouching behind a certainboulder at a turn of the road that wound up from the Valley. He had anold flintlock, but in his dream he did not like it, and it changed toone of the beautiful modern rifles they were beginning to take from theYankees. There were no Yankees on Thunder Run. Steve felt assured ofthat in his dream; very secure and comfortable. Richard Cleave cameriding up the road on Dundee. Steve lifted the rifle to his shoulder andsighted very carefully. It seemed that he was not alone behind theboulder. A shadowy figure with a sword, and a star on his collar, said,"Aim at the heart." In the dream he fired, but before the smoke couldclear so that he might know his luck the sound of the shot changed toclear trumpets, long and wailing. Steve turned on his side. "Reveille! OGawd!"
The men arose, the ranks were formed. _No breakfast?_--HairstonBreckinridge explained the situation. "We're going to breakfast inWinchester, men! All the dear old cooks are getting ready for us--rollsand waffles and broiled chicken and poached eggs and coffee--and all theladies in muslin and ribbons are putting flowers on the table andsaying, 'The Army of the Valley is coming home!'--Isn't that a Sundaymorning breakfast worth waiting for? The sooner we whip Banks the soonerwe'll be eating it."
"All right. All right," said the men. "We'll whip him all right."
"We're sure to whip him now we've got Steve back!"
"That's so. Where've you been anyway, Steve, and how many did you killon the road?"
"I killed three," said Steve. "General Ewell's over thar in the woods,and he's going to advance 'longside of us, on the Front Royal road.Rockbridge 'n the rest of the batteries are to hold the ridge up there,no matter what happens! Banks ain't got but six thousand men, and itought ter be an easy job--"
"Good Lord! Steve's been absent at a council of war--talking familiarlywith generals! Always thought there must be more in him than appeared,since there couldn't well be less--"
"Band's playing! 'The Girl I Left Behind Me'!"
"That's Winchester! Didn't we have a good time there 'fore and afterBath and Romney? 'Most the nicest Valley town!--and we had to go awayand leave it blue as indigo--"
"I surely will be glad to see Miss Fanny again--"
"Company C over there's most crazy. It all lives there--"
"Three miles! That ain't much. I feel rested. There goes the 2d! Don'tit swing off long and steady? Lord, we've got the hang of it at last!"
"Will Cleave's got to be sergeant.--'N he's wild about a girl inWinchester. Says his mother and sister are there, too, and he can'tsleep for thinking of the enemy all about them. Children sure do grow upquick in war time!"
"A lot of things grow up quick--and a lot of things don't grow at all.There goes the 4th--long and steady! Our turn next."
Steve again saw from afar the approach of the nightmare. It stood largeon the opposite bank of Abraham's Creek, and he must go to meet it. Hewas wedged between comrades--Sergeant Coffin was looking straight at himwith his melancholy, bad-tempered eyes--he could not fall out, dropbehind! The backs of his hands began to grow cold and his unwashedforehead was damp beneath matted, red-brown elf locks. From considerableexperience he knew that presently sick stomach would set in. When thecompany splashed through Abraham's Creek he would not look at therunning water, but when he looked at the slopes he was expectedpresently to climb he saw that there was fighting there and that thenightmare attended! Steve closed his eyes. "O Gawd, take care of me--"
Later on, when the ridge was won he found himself, still in the companyof the nightmare, cowering close to the lock of a rail fence thatzigzagged along the crest. How he got there he really did not know. Hehad his musket still clutched--his mountaineer's instinct served forthat. Presently he made the discovery that he had been firing, had firedthrice, it appeared from his cartridge box. He remembered neither firingnor loading, though he had some faint recollection of having been uponhis knees behind a low stone wall--he saw it now at right angles withthe rail fence. A clover field he remembered because some one had saidsomething about four-leaved clovers, and then a shell had come by andthe clover turned red. Seized with panic he bit a cartridge and loaded.The air was rocking; moreover, with the heavier waves came a sharp_zzzz-ip! zzzzzz-ip!_ Heaven and earth blurred together, blended by thegiant brush of eddying smoke. Steve tasted powder, smelled powder. Onthe other side of the fence, from a battery lower down the slope to theguns beyond him two men were running--running very swiftly, with bentheads. They ran like people in a pelting rain, and between them theycarried a large bag or bundle, slung in an oilcloth. They were tall andhardy men, and they moved with a curious air of determination. "Carryingpowder! Gawd! before I'd be sech a fool--" A shell came, andburst--burst between the two men. There was an explosion, ear-splitting,heart-rending. A part of the fence was wrecked; a small cedar tree torninto kindling. Steve put down his musket, laid his forehead upon therail before him, and vomited.
The guns were but a few yards above him, planted just below the crest,their muzzles projecting over. Steve recognized Rockbridge. He must, hethought, have been running away, not knowing where he was going, andinfernally managed to get up here. The nightmare abode with him. Hisjoints felt like water, his heart was straightened, stretched, andcorded in his bosom like a man upon the rack. He pressed close into theangle of the fence, made himself of as little compass as his long andgangling limbs allowed, and held himself still as an opossum feigningdeath. Only his watery blue eyes wandered--not fo
r curiosity, but thathe might see and dodge a coming harm.
Before him the ridge ran steeply down to a narrow depression, a littlevale, two hundred yards across. On the further side the land rose againto as high a hill. Here was a stone fence, which even as he looked,leaped fire. Above it were ranged the blue cannon--three batteries, wellserved. North and South, muzzle to muzzle, the guns roared across thegreen hollow. The blue musketrymen behind the wall were using minies. Ofall death-dealing things Steve most hated these. They came with sounearthly a sound--zzzz-ip! zzzzz-ip!--a devil noise, a death thatshrieked, taunted, and triumphed. To-day they made his blood like water.He crouched close, a mere lump of demoralization, behind a veil of wildbuckwheat.
Rockbridge was suffering heavily, both from the opposing Parrotts andfrom sharpshooters behind the wall. A belated gun came straining up theslope, the horses doing mightily, the men cheering. There was an openingin a low stone wall across the hillside, below Steve. The gate had beenwrenched away and thrown aside, but the thick gatepost remained, and itmade the passage narrow--too narrow for the gun team and the carriage topass. All stopped and there was a colloquy.
"We've got an axe?"
"Yes, captain."
"John Agnor, you've felled many a tree. Take the axe and cut that postdown."
"Captain, I will be killed!"
"Then you will be killed doing your duty, John. Get down."
Agnor got the axe, swung it and began chopping. The stone wall acrossthe hollow blazed more fiercely; the sharpshooters diverted theirattention from the men and horses higher upon the hill. Agnor swung theaxe with steadiness; the chips flew far. The post was cut almost throughbefore his bullet came. In falling he clutched the weakened obstruction,and the two came down together. The gun was free to pass, and it passed,each cannoneer and driver looking once at John Agnor, lying dead with asteady face. It found place a few yards above Steve in his corner, andjoined in the roar of its fellows, throwing solid shot and canister.
A hundred yards and more to the rear stood a barn. The wounded from allthe guns, strung like black beads along the crest, dragged themselves orwere carried to this shelter. Hope rose in Steve's heart. "Gawd! I'llcreep through the clover and git there myself." He started on hands andknees, but once out of his corner and the shrouding mass of wildbuckwheat, terror took him. The minies were singing like so many birds.A line of blue musketrymen, posted behind cover, somewhat higher thanthe grey, were firing alike at gunners, horses, and the men passing toand fro behind the fighting line. Steve saw a soldier hobbling to thebarn throw up his arms, and pitch forward. Two carrying a third betweenthem were both struck. The three tried to drag themselves further, butonly the one who had been borne by the others succeeded. A shell piercedthe roof of the barn, burst and set the whole on fire. Steve turned likea lizard and went back to the lock of the fence and the tatteredbuckwheat. He could hear the men talking around the gun just beyond.They spoke very loud, because the air was shaken like an ocean in storm.They were all powder-grimed, clad only in trousers and shirt, the shirtopen over the breast, and sleeves rolled up. They stood straight, orbent, or crept about the guns, all their movements swift and rhythmic.Sometimes they were seen clearly; sometimes the smoke swallowed them.When seen they looked larger than life, when only heard their voicescame as though earth and air were speaking. "Sponge out.--All right.Fire! Hot while it lasts, but it won't last long. I have everyconfidence in Old Jack and Old Dick. Drat that primer! All right!--Threeseconds! Jerusalem! that created a sensation. The Louisianians arecoming up that cleft between the hills. All the Stonewall regiments inthe centre. Ewell to flank their left. Did you ever hear Ewell swear?Look out! wheel's cut through. Lanyard's shot away. Take handkerchiefs.Haven't got any--tear somebody's shirt. Number 1! Number 2! Look out!look out--Give them hell. Good Heaven! here's Old Jack. General, we hopeyou'll go away from here! We'll stay it out--give you our word. Letthem enfilade ahead!--but you'd better go back, sir."
"Thank you, captain, but I wish to see--"
A minie ball imbedded itself in a rail beside Steve's cheek. Before hecould recover from this experience a shell burst immediately in front ofhis panel. He was covered with earth, a fragment of shell sheared awaythe protecting buckwheat and a piece of rail struck him in the back withforce. He yelled, threw down his musket and ran.
He passed John Agnor lying dead by the gateway, and he reached somehowthe foot of the hill and the wide fields between the embattled ridgesand the Valley pike, the woods and the Front Royal road. He now couldsee the Federal line of battle, drawn on both sides of the pike, butpreponderantly to the westward. They were there, horse and foot andbellowing artillery, and they did not look panic-stricken. Their flagswere flying, their muskets gleaming. They had always vastly more andvastly better bands than had the grey, and they used them morefrequently. They were playing now--a brisk and stirring air, sinking andswelling as the guns boomed or were silent. The mist was up, the sunshone bright. "Gawd!" thought Steve. "I'd better be there than here! Weain't a-goin' to win, anyhow. They've got more cannon, and a biggercountry, and all the ships, and pockets full of money. Once't I had achance to move North--"
He had landed in a fringe of small trees by a little runlet, and now,under this cover, he moved irresolutely forward. "Ef I walked towardthem with my hands up, they surely wouldn't shoot. What's that?--Gawd!Look at Old Jack a-comin'! Reckon I'll stay--Told them once't on ThunderRun I wouldn't move North for nothing! _Yaaaihhhh! Yaaaaihhh_--"
_Yaaihhhhh! Yaaihhhhh! Yaaaihh! Yaaaaaaaihhhh!_ Ten thousand greysoldiers with the sun on their bayonets--
* * * * *
There came by a riderless horse, gentle enough, unfrightened, wantingonly to drink at the little stream. Steve caught him withoutdifficulty, climbed into the saddle and followed the army. The army wasa clanging, shouting, triumphant thing to follow--to follow into theWinchester streets, into a town that was mad with joy. A routed army wasbefore it, pouring down Loudoun Street, pouring down Main Street,pouring down every street and lane, pouring out of the northern end ofthe town, out upon the Martinsburg pike, upon the road to the frontier,the road to the Potomac. There was yet firing in narrow side streets, asweeping out of single and desperate knots of blue. Church bells werepealing, women young and old were out of doors, weeping for pure joy,laughing for the same, praising, blessing, greeting sons, husbands,lovers, brothers, friends, deliverers. A bearded figure, leaf brown, ona sorrel nag, answered with a gravity strangely enough not withoutsweetness the acclamation with which he was showered, sent an aide tohasten the batteries, sent another with an order to General George H.Steuart commanding cavalry, jerked his hand into the air and swept on inpursuit out by the Martinsburg pike. The infantry followed him,hurrahing. They tasted to-day the sweets of a patriot soldiery relievinga patriot town. The guns came thundering through, the horses doing well,the proud drivers, cannoneers, officers, waving caps and hats, bowing tohalf-sobbing hurrahs, thrown kisses, praises, blessings. Ewell'sdivision poured through--Ewell on the flea-bitten grey, Rifle, swearinghis men forward, pithily answering the happy people, all the while thechurch bells clanging. The town was in a clear flame of love,patriotism, martial spirit, every heart enlarged, every house thrownopen to the wounded whom, grey and blue alike, the grey surgeons werebringing in.
For fear to keep him, Steve had left his captured horse's back and lethim go loose. Now on foot and limping terribly, trying to look equalparts fire-eater and woe-begone, he applied to a grey-headed couple inthe dooryard of a small clean home. Would they give a hurt soldier a bedand something to eat? Why, of course, of course they would! Come rightin! What command?
"The Stonewall Brigade, sir. You see, 'twas this a-way. I was helpingserve a gun, most of the gunners being strewed around dead--and weinfantrymen having to take a hand, and a thirty pound Parrott came andburst right over us! I was stooping, like this, my thumb on the vent,like that--and a great piece struck me in the back! I just kin hobble.Thank you, ma'am! You are better
to me than I deserve."