CHAPTER VI. THE MOURNFUL FOREST
As the night settled down, heavy and dark, and the sounds of firingdied away along the great line, Dick again sank to the ground exhausted.Although the battle itself had ceased, it seemed to him that the drumsof his ears still reproduced its thunder and roar, or at least the echoof it was left upon the brain.
He lay upon the dry grass, and although the night was again hot andbreathless, surcharged with smoke and dust and fire, he felt achill that went to the bone, and he trembled all over. Then a coldperspiration broke out upon him. It was the collapse after two days oftremendous exertion, excitement and anxiety. He did not move for eightor ten minutes, blind to everything that was going on about him, andthen through the darkness he saw Colonel Winchester standing by andlooking down at him.
"Are you all right, Dick, my boy?" the colonel asked.
"Yes, sir," replied Dick, as his pride made him drag himself to hisfeet. "I'm not wounded at all. I was just clean played out."
"You're lucky to get off so well," said the colonel, smiling sadly."We've lost many thousands and we've lost the battle, too. The killed orwounded in my regiment number more than two-thirds."
"Have you seen anything of Warner and Pennington, sir? I lost sight ofthem in that last terrible attack."
"Pennington is here. He has had a bullet through the fleshy part of hisleft arm, but he's so healthy it won't take him long to get well. I'msorry to say that Warner is missing."
"Missing, sir? You don't say that George has been killed?"
"I don't say it. I'm hoping instead that he's been captured."
Dick knew what the colonel meant. In Colonel Winchester's opinion onlytwo things, death or capture, could keep Warner from being with them.
"Maybe he will come in yet," he said. "We were mixed up a good deal whenthe darkness fell, and he may have trouble in finding our position."
"That's true. There are not so many of us left, and we do not cover anygreat area of ground. Lie still, Dick, and take a little rest. Wedon't know what's going to happen in the night. We may have to do morefighting yet, despite the darkness."
The colonel's figure disappeared in the shadow, and Dick, following hisadvice, lay quiet. All around him were other forms stretched upon theearth, motionless. But Dick knew they were not dead, merely sleeping.His own nervous system was being restored by youth and the habitof courage. Yet he felt a personal grief, and it grew stronger withreturning physical strength. Warner, his comrade, knitted to him by tiesof hardship and danger, was missing, dead no doubt in the battle. Forthe moment he forgot about the defeat. All his thoughts were for thebrave youth who lay out there somewhere, stretched on the dusty field.
Dick strained his eyes into the darkness, as if by straining he mightsee where Warner lay. He saw, indeed, dim fires here and there along along line, marking where the Confederates now stood, or rather lay. Thena bitter pang came. It was ground upon which the Union army had stood inthe morning.
The rifle fire, which had died down, began again in a fitful way. Faroff, skirmishers, not satisfied with the slaughter of the day, wereseeing what harm they could do in the dark. Somewhere the plumed andunresting Stuart was charging with his horsemen, driving back someportion of the Union army that the Confederate forces might be on theirflank in the morning.
But Dick, as he lay quietly and felt his strength, mental and physical,returning, was taking a resolution. Down there in front of them and inthe darkness was the wood upon which they had made five great assaults,all to fail. In front of that mournful forest, and within its edge, morethan ten thousand men had fallen. He had no doubt that Warner was amongthem.
His sense of direction was good, and, as his blurred faculties regainedtheir normal keenness, he could mark the exact line by which theyhad advanced, and the exact line by which they had retreated. Warnerunquestionably lay near the edge of the wood and he must seek him. Wereit the other way, Warner would do the same.
Dick stood up. He was no longer dizzy, and every muscle felt steady andstrong. He did not know what had become of Colonel Winchester, and hiscomrades still lay upon the ground in a deep stupor.
It could not be a night of order and precision, with every man numberedand in his place, as if they were going to begin a battle instead ofjust having finished one, and Dick, leaving his comrades, walked calmlytoward the wood. He passed one sentinel, but a few words satisfied him,and he continued to advance. Far to right and left he still heard thesound of firing and saw the flash of guns, but these facts did notdisturb him. In front of him lay darkness and silence, with the horizonbounded by that saddest of all woods where the heaped dead lay.
Dick looked back toward the Henry Hill, on the slopes of which were thefragments of his own regiment. Lights were moving there, but they wereso dim they showed nothing. Then he turned his face toward the enemy'sposition and did not look back again.
The character of the night was changing. It had come on dark and heavy.Hot and breathless like the one before, he had taken no notice of thechange save for the increased darkness. Now he felt a sudden damp touchon his face, as if a wet finger had been laid there. The faintest ofwinds had blown for a moment or two, and when Dick looked up, he sawthat the sky was covered with black clouds. The saddest of woods hadmoved far away, but by some sort of optical illusion he could yet seeit.
Save for the distant flash of random firing, the darkness was intense.Every star was gone, and Dick moved without any guide. But he needednone. His course was fixed. He could not miss the mournful wood hangingthere like a pall on the horizon.
His feet struck against something. It was a man, but he was past allfeeling, and Dick went on, striking by and by against many more. It wasimpossible at the moment to see Warner's face, but he began to feelof the figures with his hands. There was none so long and slender asWarner's, and he continued his search, moving steadily toward the wood.
He saw presently a lantern moving over the field, and he walked towardit. Three men were with the lantern, and the one who carried it held itup as he approached. The beams fell directly upon Dick, revealing hispale face and torn and dusty uniform.
"What do you want, Yank?" called the man.
"I'm looking for a friend of mine who must have fallen somewhere nearhere."
The man laughed, but it was not a laugh of joy or irony. It was a laughof pity and sadness.
"You've shorely got a big look comin'," he said. "They're scattered allaround here, coverin' acres an' acres, just like dead leaves shook bya storm from the trees. But j'in us, Yank. You can't do nothin' in thedarkness all by yourself. We're Johnny Rebs, good and true, and I maybe shootin' straight at you to-morrow mornin', but I reckon I've gotnothin' ag'in you now. We're lookin' for a brother o' mine."
Dick joined them, and the four, the three in gray and the one in blue,moved on. A friendly current had passed between him and them, and therewould be no thought of hostility until the morning, when it would comeagain. It was often so in this war, when men of the same blood met inthe night between battles.
"What sort of a fellow is it that you're lookin' for?" asked the manwith the lantern.
"About my age. Very tall and thin. You could mark him by his height."
"It takes different kinds of people to make the world. My brother ain'tlike him a-tall. Sam's short, an' thick as a buffalo. Weighs two twentywith no fat on him. What crowd do you belong to, youngster?"
"The division on our right. We attacked the wood there."
"Well, you're a bully boy. Give me your hand, if you are a Yank. Youshorely came right up there and looked us in the eyes. How often did youcharge us?"
"Five times, I think. But I may be mistaken. You know it wasn't a daywhen a fellow could be very particular about his count."
"Guess you're right there. I made it five. What do you say, Jim?"
"Five she was."
"That settles it. Jim kin always count up to five an' never make amistake. What you fellers goin' to do in the mornin'?"
"I
don't know."
"Pope ain't asked you yet what to do. Well, Bobby Lee and Old Stonewallain't been lookin' for me either to get my advice, but, Yank, youfellers do just what I tell you."
"What's that?"
"Pack up your clothes before daylight, say good-bye, and go backto Washington. You needn't think you kin ever lick Marse Bobby an'Stonewall Jackson."
"But what if we do think it? We've got a big army back there yet, andmore are always coming to us. We'll beat you yet."
"There seems to be a pow'ful wide difference in our opinions, an'I can't persuade you an' you can't persuade me. We'll just let thequestion rip. I'm glad, after all, Yank, it's so dark. I don't want tosee ten thousand dead men stretched out in rows."
"We're going to get a wettin'," said the man to Jim. "The air'salready damp on my face. Thar, do you hear that thunder growlin' in thesouthwest? Tremenjously like cannon far away, but it's thunder all thesame."
"What do we care 'bout a wettin', Jim? Fur the last few days this youngYank here an' his comrades have shot at me 'bout a million cannon ballsan' shells, an' more 'n a hundred million rifle bullets. Leastways Ifelt as if they was all aimed at me, which is just as bad. After bein'drenched fur two days with a storm of steel an' lead an' fire, what doyou think I care for a summer shower of rain, just drops of rain?"
"But I don't like to get wet after havin' fit so hard. It's unhealthy,likely to give me a cold."
"Never min' 'bout ketchin' cold. You're goin' to get wet, shore.Thunder, but I thought fur a second that was the flash of a hullbattery aimed at me. Fellers, if you wasn't with me I'd be plumb scared,prowlin' 'roun' here in a big storm on the biggest graveyard in theworld. Keep close, Yank, we don't want to lose you in the dark."
A tremendous flash of lightning had cut the sky down the middle, as ifit intended to divide the world in two halves, but after its passage thedarkness closed in thicker and heavier than ever. The sinister sound ofthunder muttering on the horizon now went on without ceasing.
Dick was awed. Like many another his brain exposed to such tremendouspressure for two or three days, was not quite normal. It was quicklyheated and excited by fancies, and time and place alone were enough toweigh down even the coolest and most seasoned. He pressed close to hisConfederate friends, whose names he never knew, and who never knew his,and they, feeling the same influence, never for an instant left the manwho held the lantern.
The muttering thunder now came closer and broke in terrible crashes. Thelightning flashed again and again so vividly that Dick, with involuntarymotion, threw up his hands to shelter his eyes. But he could see beforehim the mournful forest, where so many good men had fallen, and, turnedred in the gleam of the lightning, it was more terrifying than it hadbeen in the mere black of the night. The wind, too, was now blowing,and the forest gave forth what Dick's ears turned into a long despairingwail.
"She's about to bust," said the lantern bearer, looking up at themenacing sky. "Jim, you'll have to take your wettin' as it comes."
A moment later the storm burst in fact. The rain rushed down on them,soaking them through in an instant, but Dick, so far from caring, likedit. It cooled his heated body and brain, and he knew that it was morelikely to help than hurt the wounded who yet lay on the ground.
The lightning ceased before the sweep of the rain, but the lantern waswell protected by its glass cover, and they still searched. The lanternbearer suddenly uttered a low cry.
"Boys!" he said, "Here's Sam!"
A thick and uncommonly powerful man lay doubled up against a bush. Hisface was white. Dick saw that blood had just been washed from it bythe rain. But he could see no rising and falling of the chest, and heconcluded that he was dead.
"Take the lantern, Jim," said the leader. Then he knelt down and put hisfinger on his brother's wrist.
"He ain't dead," he said at last. "His pulse is beatin' an' he'll cometo soon. The rain helped him. Whar was he hit? By gum, here it is! Abullet has ploughed all along the side of his head, runnin' 'roun' hisskull. Here, you Yank, did you think you could kill Sam by shootin' himin the head with a bullet? We've stood him up in front of our lines, andlet you fellows break fifty pound shells on his head. You never done himno harm, 'cept once when two solid shot struck him at the same time an'he had a headache nigh until sundown. Besides havin' natural thicknessof the skull Sam trained his head by buttin' with the black boys when hewas young."
Dick saw that the man really felt deep emotion and was chattering,partly to hide it. He was glad that they had found his brother, andhe helped them to lift him. Then they rubbed Sam's wrists and poured astimulant down his throat. In a few minutes he stood alone on his feet,yawned mightily, and by the light of the dim lantern gazed at them in asort of stupid wonder.
"What's happened?" he asked.
"What's happened?" replied his brother. "You was always late with thenews, Sam. Of course you've been takin' a nap, but a lot has happened.We met the Yankees an' we've been fightin' 'em for two days. Tremenjousbig battle, an' we've whipped 'em. 'Scuse me, Yank, I forgot you waswith us. Well, nigh onto a million have been killed, which ought to beenough for anybody. I love my country, but I don't care to love anotherat such a price. But resumin' 'bout you pussonally, Sam, you stoppedso many shells an' solid shot with that thick head of yourn that theconcussion at last put you to sleep, an' we've found you so we kin takeyou in out of the wet an' let you sleep in a dry place. Kin you walk?"
Sam made an effort, but staggered badly.
"Jim, you an' Dave take him by each shoulder an' walk him back to camp,"said the lantern bearer. "You jest keep straight ahead an' you'll buttinto Marse Bob or old Stonewall, one or the other."
"You lead the way with the lantern."
"Never you mind about me or the lantern."
"What you goin' to do?"
"Me? I'm goin' to keep this lantern an' help Yank here find his friend.Ain't he done stuck with us till we found Sam, an' I reckon I'll stickwith him till he gits the boy he's lookin for, dead or alive. Now, youkeep Sam straight, and walk him back to camp. He ain't hurt. Why, thatbullet didn't dent his skull. It said to itself when it came smack upagainst the bone: 'This is too tough for me, I guess I'll go 'roun'.'An' it did go 'roun'. You can see whar it come out of the flesh onthe other side. Why, by the time Sam was fourteen years old we quitsplittin' old boards with an axe or a hatchet. We jest let Sam set on alog an' we split 'em over his head. Everybody was suited. Sam could makehimself pow'ful useful without havin' to work."
Nevertheless, the lantern bearer gave his brother the tenderest care,and watched him until he and the men on either side of him were lost inthe darkness as they walked toward the Southern camp.
"I jest had to come an' find old Sam, dead or alive," he said. "Now,which way, Yank, do you think this friend of yours is layin'?"
"But you're comin' with us," repeated Jim.
"No, I'm not. Didn't Yank here help us find Sam? An' are we to let theYanks give us lessons in manners? I reckon not. 'Sides, he's only a boy,an' I'm goin' to see him through."
"I thank you," said Dick, much moved.
"Don't thank me too much, 'cause while I'm walkin' 'roun' with youfriendly like to-night I may shoot you to-morrow."
"I thank you, all the same," said Dick, his gratitude in nowisediminished.
"Them that will stir no more are layin' mighty thick 'roun' here, butwe ought to find your friend pretty soon. By gum, how it rains! W'all,it'll wash away some big stains, that wouldn't look nice in the mornin'.Say, sonny, what started this rumpus, anyway?"
"I don't know."
"An' I don't, either, so I guess it's hoss an' hoss with you an' me.But, sonny, I'll bet you a cracker ag'in a barrel of beef that none ofthem that did start the rumpus are a-layin' on this field to-night. Whatkind of lookin' feller did you say your young friend was?"
"Very tall, very thin, and about my age or perhaps a year or two older."
"Take a good look, an' see if this ain't him."
He held up the la
ntern and the beams fell upon a long figure halfraised upon an elbow. The figure was turned toward the light and staredunknowing at Dick and the Southerner. There was a great clot of bloodupon his right breast and shoulder, but it was Warner. Dick swallowedhard.
"Yes," he said, "it's my comrade, but he's hurt badly."
"So bad that he don't know you or anybody else. He's clean out of hishead."
They leaned over him, and Dick called:
"George! George! It's Dick Mason, your comrade, come to help you back tocamp!"
But Warner merely stared with feverish, unseeing eyes.
"He's out of his head, as I told you, an' he's like to be for manyhours," said the lantern bearer. "It's a shore thing that I won't shoothim to-morrow, nor he won't shoot me."
He leaned over Warner and carefully examined the wound.
"He's lucky, after all," he said, "the bullet went in just under theright shoulder, but it curved, as bullets have a way of doin' sometimes,an' has come out on the side. There ain't no lead in him now, which isgood. He was pow'ful lucky, too, in not bein' hit in the head, 'cause heain't got no such skull as Sam has, not within a mile of it. His skullwouldn't have turned no bullet. He has lost a power of blood, but if youkin get him back to camp, an' use the med'cines which you Yanks have insuch lots an' which we haven't, he may get well."
"That's good advice," said Dick. "Help me up with him."
"Take him on your back. That's the best way to carry a sick man."
He set down his lantern, took up Warner bodily and put him on Dick'sback.
"I guess you can carry him all right," he said. "I'd light you with thelantern a piece of the way, but I've been out here long enough. MarseBob an' old Stonewall will get tired waitin' fur me to tell 'em how toend this war in a month."
Dick, holding Warner in place with one hand, held out the other, andsaid:
"You're a white man, through and through, Johnny Reb. Shake!"
"So are you, Yank. There's nothin' wrong with you 'cept that youhappened to get on the wrong side, an' I don't hold that ag'in you. Iguess it was an innercent mistake."
"Good-bye."
"Good-bye. Keep straight ahead an' you'll strike that camp of yourn thatwe're goin' to take in the mornin'. Gosh, how it rains!"
Dick retained his idea of direction, and he walked straight through thedarkness toward the Northern camp. George was a heavy load, but he didnot struggle. His head sank down against his comrade's and Dick feltthat it was burning with fever.
"Good old George," he murmured to himself rather than to his comrade,"I'll save you."
Excitement and resolve had given him a strength twice the normal, astrength that would last the fifteen or twenty minutes needed until thistask was finished. Despite the darkness and the driving rain, he couldnow see the lights in his own camp, and bending forward a little tosupport the dead weight on his back, he walked in a straight coursetoward them.
"Halt! Who are you?"
The form of a sentinel, rifle raised, rose up before him in the darknessand the rain.
"Lieutenant Richard Mason of Colonel Winchester's regiment, bringing inLieutenant George Warner of the same regiment, who is badly wounded."
The sentinel lowered his rifle and looked at them sympathetically.
"Hangs like he's dead, but he ain't," he said. "You'll find a sort ofhospital over thar in the big tents among them trees."
Dick found the improvised hospital, and put George down on a rude cot,within the shelter of one of the tents.
"He's my friend," he said to a young doctor, "and I wish you'd savehim."
"There are hundreds of others who have friends also, but I'll do mybest. Shot just under the right shoulder, but the bullet, luckily, hasturned and gone out. It's loss of blood that hurt him most. You soldierskill more men than we doctors can save. I'm bound to say that. But yourfriend won't die. I'll see to it."
"Thank you," said Dick. He saw that the doctor was kind-hearted, and amarvel of endurance and industry. He could not ask for more at such atime, and he went out of the tent, leaving George to his care.
It was still raining, but the soldiers managed to keep many firesgoing, despite it, and Dick passed between them as he sought ColonelWinchester, and the fragments of his regiment. He found the colonelwrapped in a greatcoat, leaning against a tree under a few feet ofcanvas supported on sticks. Pennington, sound asleep, sat on a root ofthe same tree, also under the canvas, but with the rain beating on hisleft arm and shoulder.
Colonel Winchester looked inquiringly at Dick, but said nothing.
"I've been away without leave, sir," said Dick, "but I think I havesufficient excuse."
"What is it?"
"I've brought in Warner."
"Ah! Is he dead?"
"No, sir. He's had a bullet through him and he's feverish andunconscious, but the doctor says that with care he'll get well."
"Where did you find him?"
"Over there by the edge of the wood, sir, within what is now theConfederate lines."
"A credit to your courage and to your heart. Sit down here. There's alittle more shelter under the canvas, and go to sleep. You're too muchhardened now to be hurt seriously by wet clothes."
Dick sat down with his back against the tree, and, despite his soakedcondition, slept as soundly as Pennington. When he awoke in the morningthe hot sun was shining again, and his clothes soon dried on him. Hefelt a little stiffness and awkwardness at first, but in a few minutesit passed away. Then breakfast restored his strength, and he lookedcuriously about him.
Around him was the Northern army, and before him was the vastbattlefield, now occupied by the foe. He heard sounds of distant rifleshots, indicating that the skirmishers were still restless, but it wasno more now than the buzzing of flies. Pennington, coming back from thehospital, hailed him.
"George has come to," he said. "Great deed of yours last night, Dick.Wish I'd done it myself. They let old George talk just a little, buthe's his real old Vermont self again. Says chances were ninety-nine anda half per cent that he would die there on the battlefield, but that thehalf per cent, which was yourself, won. Fancy being only half of oneper cent, and doing a thing like that. No, you can't see him. Only onevisitor was allowed, and that's me. His fever is leaving him, and heswallowed a little soup. Now, he's going to sleep."
Dick felt very grateful. Pennington had been up some time, and as theysat down in the sun he gave Dick the news.
"It was a bad night," he said. "After you staggered in with George,the rebels, in spite of the rain, harassed us. I was waked up aftermidnight, and the colonel began to believe that we would have to fightagain before morning, though the need didn't come, so far as we wereconcerned. But we were terribly worried on the flanks. They say it wasStuart and his cavalry who were bothering us."
"What's the outlook for to-day?"
"I don't know. I hear that General Pope has sent a dispatch sayingthat the enemy is badly whipped, and that we'll hold our own here. Butbetween you and me, Dick, I don't believe it. We've been driven out ofall our positions, so we can hardly call it a victory for our side."
"But we may hold on where we are and win a victory yet. McClellanand the Army of the Potomac may come. Anyway, we can get bigreinforcements."
Pennington clasped his arms over his knees and sang:
"The race is not to him that's got The longest legs to run, Nor the battle to those people That shoot the biggest gun."
"Where did you get that song?" asked Dick. "I'll allow, under thecircumstances, that there seems to be some sense in it."
"A Texan that we captured last night sang it to us. He was a funny kindof fellow. Didn't seem to be worried a bit because he was taken. Saidif his own people didn't retake him that he'd escape in a week, anyhow.Likely enough he will, too. But he was good company, and he sang us thatsong. Impudent, wasn't he?"
"But true so far, at least in the east. I fancy from what you say,Frank, that we'll be here a day longer anyhow. I
hope so, I want torest."
"So do I. I won't fight to-day, unless I'm ordered to do it. But I'mthinking with you, Dick, that we'll retreat. We were outmaneuvered byLee and Jackson. That circuit of Jackson's through Thoroughfare Gap andthe attack from the rear undid us. It comes of being kept in the dark bythe enemy, instead of your keeping him in the dark. We never knew wherethe blow was going to fall, and when it fell a lot of us weren't there.But, Dick, old boy, we're going to win, in the end, aren't we, in spiteof Lee, in spite of Jackson, and in spite of everybody and everything?"
"As surely as the rising and setting of the sun, Frank."
Although Dick had little to do that day, events were occurring. It wasin the minds of Lee and Jackson that they might yet destroy the armywhich they had already defeated, and heavy divisions of the Southernarmy were moving. Dick heard about night that Jackson had marched tenmiles, through fields deep in mud, and meant to fall on Pope's flank orrear again. Stuart and his unresting cavalry were also on their rightflank and in the rear, doing damage everywhere. Longstreet had senta brigade across Bull Run, and at many points the enemy was pressingcloser.
The next morning, Pope, alarmed by all the sinister movements on hisflanks and in his rear, gathered up his army and retreated. It was fulltime or the vise would have shut down on him again. Late that day thedivision under Kearney came into contact with Jackson's flanking forcein the forest. A short but fierce battle ensued, fought in the nightand amid new torrents of driving rain. General Kearney was killed by askirmisher, but the night and the rain grew so dense, and they werein such a tangle of thickets and forests that both sides drew off, andPope's army passed on.
Dick was not in this battle, but he heard it's crash and roar above thesweep of the storm. He and the balance of the regiment were helping toguard the long train of the wounded. Now and then, he leaned from hishorse and looked at Warner who lay in one of the covered wagons.
"I'm getting along all right, Dick, old man," said Warner. "What's allthat firing off toward the woods?"
"A battle, but it won't stop us. We retreated in time."
"And we've been defeated. Well, we can stand it. It takes a good nationto stand big defeats. You know I taught school once, Dick, and I learnedthat the biggest nation the world has ever known was the one thatsuffered the biggest defeats. Look at the terrible knocks the Romansgot! Why the Gauls nearly ate 'em alive two or three times, and foryears Hannibal whipped 'em every time he could get at 'em. But theyended by whipping everybody who had whipped them. They whipped the wholeworld, and they kept it whipped until they played out from old age."
Dick laughed cheerily.
"Now, you shut up, George," he said. "You've talked too much. What'sthe use of going back as far as the old Romans for comfort. We can winwithout having to copy a lot of old timers."
He dropped the flap of canvas and rode on listening to the sounds of thecombat. A powerful figure stepped out of the bushes and stood besidehis horse. It was Sergeant Whitley, who had passed through the battlewithout a scratch.
"What has happened, Sergeant?" asked Dick, as he sat in the rain andlistened to the dying fire.
"There has been a fight, and both are quitting because they can't seeenough to carry it on any longer. But General Kearney has been killed."
The retreat continued until they reached the Potomac and were in thegreat fortifications before Washington. Then Pope resigned, and the starof McClellan rose again. The command of the armies about Washingtonwas entrusted to him, and the North gathered itself anew for the mightystruggle.