CHAPTER XII
IN THE COVE
General Sheridan permitted the Winchester men to rest a long time, orrather he ordered them to do so. No regiment had distinguished itselfmore at Cedar Creek or in the previous battles, and it was best for itto lie by a while, and recover its physical strength--strength of thespirit it had never lost. It also gave a needed chance to the sixteenslight wounds accumulated by Dick, Pennington and Warner to healperfectly.
"Unless something further happens," said Warner, regretfully, "I won'thave a single honorable scar to take back with me and show in Vermont."
"I'll have one slight, though honorable, scar, but I won't be able toshow it," said Pennington, also with regret.
"I trust that it's in front, Frank," said Dick.
"It is, all right. Don't worry about that. But what about you, Dick?"
"I had hopes of a place on my left arm just above the elbow. A bullet,traveling at the rate of a million miles a minute, broke the skin thereand took a thin flake of flesh with it, but I'm so terribly healthyit's healed up without leaving a trace."
"There's no hope for us," said Warner, sighing. "We can never point tothe proof of our warlike deeds. You didn't find your cousin among theprisoners?"
"No, nor was he among their fallen whom we buried. Nor any of hisfriends either. I'm quite sure that he escaped. My intuition tells meso."
"It's not your intuition at all," said Warner reprovingly. "It's areasonable opinion, formed in your mind by antecedent conditions. Youcall it intuition, because you don't take the trouble to discover thecircumstances that led to its production. It's only lazy minds thatfall back upon second sight, mind-reading and such things."
"Isn't he the big-word man?" said Pennington admiringly. "I tell youwhat, George, General Early is still alive somewhere, and we're goingto send you to talk him to death. They say he's a splendid swearer,one of the greatest that ever lived, but he won't be able to get out asingle cuss, with you standing before him, and spouting the wholeunabridged dictionary to him."
"At least when I talk I say something," replied Warner sternly. "Itseems strange to me, Frank Pennington, that your life on the plains,where conditions, for the present at least, are hard, has permitted youto have so much frivolity in your nature."
"It's not frivolity, George. It's a gay and bright spirit, in the raysof which you may bask without price. It will do you good."
"Do you know what's to be our next duty?"
"No, I don't, and I'm not going to bother about it. I'll leave thatdirectly to Colonel Winchester, and indirectly to General Sheridan.When you rest, put your mind at rest. Concentration on whatever youare doing is the secret of continued success."
They were lying on blankets near the foot of the mountain, and the timewas late October. The days were growing cold and the nights colder,but a fine big fire was blazing before them, and they rejoiced in thewarmth and brightness, shed from the flames and the heaps of glowingcoals.
"I'll venture the prediction," said Pennington, "that our next march isnot against an army, but against guerrillas. They say that up there inthe Alleghanies Slade and Skelly are doing a lot of harm. They mayhave to be hunted out and the Winchester men have the best reputationin the army for that sort of work. We earned it by our work againstthese very fellows in Tennessee."
"For which most of the credit is due to Sergeant Whitley," said Dick."He's a grand trailer, and he can lead us with certainty, when otherregiments can't find the way."
Dick gazed westward beyond the dim blue line of the Alleghanies, and heknew that he would feel no surprise if Pennington's prediction shouldcome true. The nest of difficult mountains was a good shelter foroutlaws, and the Winchesters, with the sergeant picking up the trail,were the very men to hunt them.
He knew too that, unless the task was begun soon, it would prove asupreme test of endurance, and there would be dangers in plenty. Snowwould be falling before long on the mountains, and they would become afrozen wilderness, almost as wild and savage as they were before thewhite man came.
But it seemed for a while that the intuition of both Dick andPennington had failed. They spent many days in the valley trying tocatch the evasive Mosby and his men, although they had little success.Mosby's rangers knowing the country thoroughly made many daring raids,although they could not become a serious menace.
When they returned through Winchester from the last of theseexpeditions the Winchester men were wrapped in heavy army cloaks, forthe wind from the mountains could now cut through uniforms alone.Dick, glancing toward the Alleghanies, saw a ribbon of white abovetheir blue line.
"Look, fellows! The first snow!" he said.
"I see," said Warner. "It snows on the just and the unjust, the unjustbeing Slade and Skelly, who are surely up there."
"Just before we went out," sad Pennington, "the news of some fresh andspecial atrocity of theirs came in. I'm thinking the time is near whenwe'll be sent after them."
"We'll need snow shoes," said Warner, shivering as he looked. "I cansee that the snow is increasing. Which way is the wind blowing, Dick?"
"Toward us."
"Then we're likely to get a little of that snow. The clouds will blowoff the mountains and sprinkle us with flakes in the valley."
"I like winter in peace, but not in war," said Pennington. "It makescampaigning hard. It's no fun marching at night in a driving storm ofsnow or hail."
"But what we can't help we must stand," said Warner with resignation.
Both predictions, the one about the snow and the other concerning theduty that would be assigned to them, quickly came to pass. Beforesunset the blue line of the Alleghanies was lost wholly in mist andvapor. Then great flakes began to fall on the camp, and the youngofficers were glad to find refuge in their tents.
It was not a heavy snow fall where they were, but it blew down atintervals all through the night, and the next morning it lay upon theground to the depth of an inch or so. Then the second part of theprophecy was justified. Colonel Winchester himself aroused all hisstaff and heads of companies.
"A fine crisp winter morning for us to take a ride," he saidcheerfully. "General Sheridan has become vexed beyond endurance overthe doings of Slade and Skelly, and he has chosen his best band ofguerrilla-hunters to seek 'em out in their lairs and annihilate 'em."
"I knew it," groaned Pennington in an undertone to Dick. "I was ascertain of it as if I had read the order already." But aloud he saidas he saluted: "We're glad we're chosen for the honor, sir. I speakfor Mr. Mason, Mr. Warner and myself."
"I'm glad you're thankful," laughed the colonel. "A grateful andresolute heart always prepares one for hardships, and we'll have plentyof them over there in the high mountains, where the snow lies deep. Butwe have new horses, furnished especially for this expedition, andSergeant Whitley and Mr. Shepard will guide us. The sergeant can hearor see anything within a quarter of a mile of him, and Mr. Shepard,being a native of the valley, knows also all the mountains that closeit in."
The young lieutenants were sincerely glad the sergeant and Shepard wereto go along, as with them they felt comparatively safe from ambush, adanger to be dreaded where Slade and Skelly were concerned.
"We agreed that General Sheridan was worth ten thousand men," saidWarner, "and I believe that the battle of Cedar Creek proved it. Nowif Sheridan is worth ten thousand, the sergeant and Shepard arecertainly worth a thousand each. It's a simple algebraic problem whichI could demonstrate to you by the liberal use of x and y, but in yourcase it's not necessary. You must accept my word for it."
"We'll do it! We'll do it! say no more!" exclaimed Pennington hastily.
It was a splendid column of men that rode out from the Union camp andGeneral Sheridan himself saw them off. Colonel Winchester at theirhead was a man of fine face and figure, and he had never looked moremartial. The hardships of war had left no mark upon him. His face wastanned a deep red by the winds of summer and winter, and although ayear or two
over forty he seemed to be several years less. Behind himcame Dick, Pennington and Warner, hardy and well knit, who had passedthrough the most terrible of all schools, three and a half years ofincessant war, and who although youths were nevertheless stronger andmore resourceful than most men.
Near them rode the sergeant, happy in his capacity as scout and guide,and welcoming the responsibility that he knew would be his, as soon asthey reached the mountains, looming so near and white. He felt as ifhe were back upon the plains, leading a troop in a great blizzard, andguarding it with eye and ear and all his five senses against Sioux orCheyenne ambush. He was not a mere trainer of a squad of men, he was,in a real sense, a leader of an army.
Shepard, the spy, also felt a great uplift of the spirits. He was aman of high ideals, whose real nature the people about him were justbeginning to learn. He did not like his trade of a spy, but beingaware that he was peculiarly fitted for it intense patriotism hadcaused him to accept its duties. Now he felt that most of his work insuch a capacity was over. He could freely ride with the other men andfight openly as they did. But if emergency demanded that he renew hissecret service he would do so instantly and without hesitation.
Colonel Winchester looked back with pride at his column. Like most ofthe regiments at that period of the war it was small, three hundredsinewy well-mounted young men, who had endured every kind of hardshipand who could endure the like again. All of them were wrapped in heavyovercoats over their uniforms, and they rode the best of horses,animals that Colonel Winchester had been allowed to choose.
The colonel felt so good that he took out his little silver whistle,and blew upon it a mellow hunting call. The column broke into a trotand the snow flew behind the beating hoofs in a long white trail.Spontaneously the men burst into a cheer, and the cold wind blowingpast them merely whipped their blood into high exaltation.
But as they rode across the valley Dick could not help feeling somedepression over its ruined and desolate appearance, worse now in winterthan in summer. No friendly smoke rose from any chimney, there were nohorses nor cattle in the fields, the rails of the fences had gone longsince to make fires for the soldiers and the roads rutted deep by therains had been untouched. Silence and loneliness were supremeeverywhere.
He was glad when they left it all behind, and entered the mountainsthrough a pass fairly broad and sufficient for horsemen. He did notfeel so much oppression here. It was natural for mountains to belonely and silent also, particularly in winter, and his spirits roseagain as they rode between the white ridges.
At the entrance to the pass a mountaineer named Reed met them. It washe who had brought the news of the latest exploit by Slade and Skelly,but he had returned quickly to warn some friends of his in thefoothills and was back again in time to meet the soldiers. He was along thin man of middle age, riding a large black mule. An immensegray shawl was pinned about his shoulders, and woollen leggings camehigh over his trousers. As he talked much he chewed tobaccovigorously. But Dick saw at once that like many of the mountaineers hewas a shrewd man, and, despite lack of education, was able to look, seeand judge.
Reed glanced over the column, showed his teeth, yellowed by theconstant use of tobacco, and the glint of a smile appeared in his eyes.
"Look like good men. I couldn't hev picked 'em better myself,colonel," he said, with the easy familiarity of the hills.
"They've been in many battles, and they've never failed," said thecolonel with some pride.
"You'll hev to do somethin' more than fight up thar on the highridges," said the mountaineer, showing his yellow teeth again. "You'llhev to look out fur traps, snares an' ambushes. Slade an' Skelly ain'tsoldiers that come out an' fight fa'r an' squar' in the open. No,sirree, they're rattlesnakes, a pair uv 'em an' full uv p'ison. We'vegot to find our rattlesnakes an' ketch 'em. Ef we don't, they'll bestingin' jest the same after you've gone."
"That's just the way I look at it, Mr. Reed. Sergeant Whitley here isa specialist in rattlesnakes. He used to hunt down and kill the bigbloated ones on the plains, and even the snow won't keep him fromtracing 'em to their dens here in the mountains."
Reed, after the custom of his kind, looked the sergeant up and downwith a frank stare.
"'Pears to be a good man," he said, "hefty in build an' quick in theeye. Glad to know you, Mr. Whitley. You an' me may take part in ashootin' bee together an' this old long-barreled firearm uv mine kingive a good account uv herself."
He patted his rifle affectionately, a weapon of ancient type, with along slender barrel of blue steel, and a heavy carved stock. It wasjust such a rifle as the frontiersmen used. Dick's mind, in aninstant, traveled back into the wilderness and he was once more withthe great hunters and scouts who fought for the fair land ofKain-tuck-ee. His imagination was so vivid that it required only atouch to stir it into life, and the aspect of the mountains, wild andlonely and clothed in snow, heightened the illusion.
"I s'pose from what you tell us that you'll have the chance to use it,Mr. Reed," said the sergeant.
"I reckon so," replied the mountaineer emphatically. "'Bout five milesup this pass you'll come to a cove in which Jim Johnson's house stood.Some uv them gorillers attacked it, three nights ago. Jim held 'em offwith his double-barreled shotgun, 'til his wife an' children could gitout the back way. Then he skedaddled hisself. They plundered thehouse uv everythin' wuth carryin' off an' then they burned it plum' tothe groun'. Jim an' his people near froze to death on the mounting,but they got at last to the cabin uv some uv their kin, whar they arenow. Then they've carried off all the hosses an' cattle they kin findin the valleys an' besides robbin' everybody they've shot some goodmen. Thar is shorely a good dose uv lead comin' to every feller in thatband."
The mountaineer's face for a moment contracted violently. Dick sawthat he was fairly burning for revenge. Among his people the code ofan eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth still prevailed,unquestioned, and there would be no pity for the guerrilla who mightcome under the muzzle of his rifle. But his feelings were shown onlyfor the moment. In another instant, he was a stoic like the Indianswhom he had displaced. After a little silence he added:
"That man Slade, who is the brains uv the outfit, is plum' devil. Sofur ez his doin's in these mountings are concerned he ain't human atall. He hez no mercy fur nuthin' at no time."
His words found an echo in Dick's own mind. He remembered howvenomously Slade had hunted for his own life in the Southern marshes,and chance, since then, had brought them into opposition more thanonce. Just as Harry had felt that there was a long contest betweenShepard and himself, Dick felt that Slade and he were now to be pittedin a long and mortal combat. But Shepard was a patriot, while Sladewas a demon, if ever a man was. If he were to have a particular enemyhe was willing that it should be Slade, as he could see in him noredeeming quality that would cause him to stay his hand, if his ownchance came.
"Have you any idea where the guerrillas are camped now?" asked ColonelWinchester.
"When we last heard uv 'em they wuz in Burton's Cove," replied themountaineer, "though uv course they may hev moved sence then. Still,the snow may hev held 'em. It's a-layin' right deep on the mountings,an' even the gorillers ain't so anxious to plough thar way through it."
"How long will it take us to reach Burton's Cove?"
"It's jest ez the weather sez, colonel. Ef the snow holds off we mightmake it tomorrow afore dark, but ef the snow makes up its mind to cometumblin' down ag'in, it's the day after that, fur shore."
"At any rate, another fall of snow is no harder for us than it is forthem," said the colonel, who showed the spirit of a true leader. "Now,Mr. Reed, do you think we can find anybody on this road who will tellus where the band has gone?"
"It ain't much uv a road an' thar ain't many people to ride on it inthe best uv times, so I reckon our chance uv meetin' a traveler whoknows much is jest about ez good as our chance uv findin' a peck uvgold in the next snowdrift."
"Which means there's
no chance at all."
"I reckon that's 'bout the size uv it. But, colonel, we don't hev tolook to the road fur the word."
"What do you mean?"
"We'll turn our eyes upward, to the mounting heights. Some uv us whoare jest bound to save the Union are settin' up on top uv high ridges,whar that p'ison band can't go, waitin' to tell us whar _we_ ought togo. They've got some home-made flags, an' they'll wave 'em to me."
"Mr. Reed, you're a man of foresight and perception."
"Foresight? I know what that is. It's the opposite uv hindsight, butI ain't made the acquaintance uv perception."
"Perception is what you see after you think, and I know that you're aman who thinks."
"Thank you, colonel, but I reckon that in sech a war ez this a man hezjest got to set right plum' down, an' think sometimes. It's naterallyforced upon him. Them that starts a war mebbe don't do much thinkin',but them that fights it hev to do a power uv it."
"Your logic is sound, Mr. Reed."
"I hev a pow'ful good eye, colonel, an' I think I see a man on top uvthat high ridge to the right. But my eye ain't ez good ez yourglasses, an' would you min' takin' a look through 'em? Foller a linefrom that little bunch of cedars to the crest."
"Yes, it's a man. I can see him quite plainly. He has a big, grayshawl like your own, wrapped around his shoulders. Perhaps he's one ofyour friends."
"I reckon so, but sence he ain't makin' no signs he ain't got nuthin'to tell. It wuz agreed that them that didn't know nuthin' wuz to keepit to theirselves while we rode on until we come to them that did. Itsaves time. Now he's gone, ain't he, colonel?"
"Yes, something has come in between."
"It's the first thin edge uv the mist. Them's clouds out thar in thenorthwest, floatin' over the mountings. I'm sorry, colonel, but moresnow is comin'. The signs is too plain. Look through that gap an' seewhat big brown clouds are sailin' up! They're just chock full uvmillions uv millions uv tons uv snow!"
"You know your own country and its winter ways, Mr. Reed. How longwill it be before the snow comes?"
"Lend me your glasses a minute, colonel."
He examined the clouds a long time through the powerful lenses, andwhen he handed them back he replied:
"Them clouds are movin' up in a hurry, colonel. They hev saw us hereridin' into the mountings, an' they want to pour their snow down on usafore we git whar we want to go."
Colonel Winchester looked anxious.
"I don't like it," he said. "It doesn't suit cavalry to be plungingaround in snowdrifts."
"You're right, colonel. Deep snow is shorely hard on hosses. It looksez ef we'd be holed up. B'ars an' catamounts, how them clouds area-trottin' 'cross the sky! Here come the fust flakes an' they look ezbig ez feathers!"
The colonel's anxiety deepened, turning rapidly to alarm.
"You spoke of our being holed up, Mr. Reed, what did you mean by it?"he asked.
"Shet in by the snow. But I know a place, colonel, that we kin reach,an' whar we kin stay ef the snow gits too deep fur us. These mountingsare full uv little valleys an' coves. They say the Alleghanies runmore than a thousand miles one way an' mebbe three hundred or soanother. I reckon that when the Lord made 'em, an' looked at His job,he wondered how He wuz goin' to hev people live in sech a mass uvmountings. Then He took His fingers an' pressed 'em down into theground lots an' lots uv times, an' He made all sorts of purty valleysan' ravines through which the rivers an' creeks an' branches could run,an' snug little coves in which men could build thar cabins an' besheltered by the big cliffs above an' the forest hangin' on 'em. Ireckon that He favored us up here, 'cause the mountings jest suit me.Nuthin' on earth could drive me out uv 'em."
He looked up at the lofty ridges hidden now and then by the whirlingsnow, and his eyes glistened. It was a stern and wild scene, but heknew that it made the snug cove and the log cabins all the snugger.The flakes were increasing now, and an evil wind was driving them hardin the men's faces. The wind, as it came through the gorges, had manyvoices, too, howling and shrieking in wrath. The young troopers weredevoutly grateful for the heavy overcoats and gloves with which athoughtful general had provided them.
But there was one man in the regiment to whom wind and snow brought acertain pleasure. It took Sergeant Whitley back to earlier days. Hewas riding once more with his command over the great plains, and thefoe they sought was a Cheyenne or Sioux band. Here, they needed himand his wilderness lore, and he felt that a full use for them all wouldcome.
The mountaineer now led them on rapidly, but the snow was increasingwith equal rapidity. Fortunately, the road through the pass was levelenough to provide good footing for the horses, and they proceededwithout fear of falls. Soon the entire column turned into a whiteprocession. Men and horses alike were covered with snow, but, aftertheir first chill, the hardy young riders began to like it. They sangone of their marching songs, and the colonel made no effort to restrainthem, knowing that it was raising their spirits.
"It's all rather picturesque," said Warner, when the song was over,"but it'll be a good thing when Reed leads us into one of thoseheavenly coves that he talks so much about. I think this snow is goingto be about forty feet deep, and it will be hard for a column of threehundred men to proceed by means of tunnels."
The mountaineer riding by the side of Colonel Winchester was lookingeagerly, whenever a break in the clouds occurred. At length, he askedhim for the glasses again and, after looking intently, said:
"Jest between the edges uv two clouds I caught a glimpse uv a man, an'he wuz wavin' a flag, which wuz a sheet from his own bed. It would beJake Hening, 'cause that wuz his place, an' he told me to go straighton to the cove, ez they wuz now expectin' us thar!"
"Who is expecting us?"
"Friends uv ours. People 'roun' here in the mountings who want to seeyou make hash uv them gorillers. I reckon they're fixin' things tokeep you warm. We oughter see another man an' his sheet afore long.Thar would be no trouble 'bout it, ef this snow wuzn't so thick."
As they advanced farther into the mountains the noise of the windincreased. Confined in the gorges it roared in anger to get out, andthen whistled and shrieked as it blew along the slopes. The snow didnot cease to fall. The road had long since been covered up, but Reedled them on with sure eye and instinct.
An hour later he was able to detect another figure on the crest of aridge, this time to their left, and he observed the waving of thesignal with great satisfaction.
"It's all right," he said to Colonel Winchester. "They're waitin' forus in the cove, not many uv 'em, uv course, but they'll help."
"Have we much more riding?" asked the colonel. "I don't think the menare suffering, but our horses can't stand it much longer."
"Not more'n an hour."
They passed soon between high cliffs, and faced a fierce wind whichalmost blinded them for the time, but, when they emerged they foundbetter shelter and, presently, Reed led them off the main road, thenthrough another narrow gorge and into the cove. They had passed arounda curving wall of the mountain and, as it burst upon them suddenly, thespectacle was all the more pleasant.
Before them, like a sunken garden, lay a space of twenty or thirtyacres, hemmed in by the high mountains, which seemed fairly to overhangits level spaces. A small creek flowed down from a ravine on one side,and dashed out of a ravine on the other. Splendid oaks, elms andmaples grew in parts of the valley, and there was an orchard and agarden, but the greater part of it was cleared, and so well protectedby the lofty mountains that most of the snow seemed to blow over it.In the snuggest corner of the cove stood a stout double log cabin and,in the open space around, great fires were roaring and sending up loftyflames, a welcome sight to the stiff and cold horsemen. Fully twentymountaineers, long and lank like Reed, were gathered around them, andwere feeding them constantly.
"What's this I see?" exclaimed Warner. "A little section of heaven?"
"Not heaven, perhaps," said Dick, "but t
he next door to it."
"This wuz Dick Snyder's home an' place, colonel," said Reed. "Onaccount uv the gorillers he found it convenient to light out with hisfolks three or four days ago, but he's come back hisself, an' he's hereto he'p welcome you. Thar's room in the house, an' the stable, whichyou can't see 'cause uv the trees, fur all the officers, an' they'rebuildin' lean-tos here to protect the soldiers an' the hosses. A lotuv the fellers hev brought forage down on thar own hosses fur yourn."
"Mr. Reed," said the colonel, gratefully, "you and your men are truefriends. But there's no danger of an ambush here?"
"Nary a chance, colonel. We've got watchers on the mountings, men thathev lived here all thar lives, an' them gorillers hev about ez muchchance to steal up on us ez the snowflakes hev to live in the firesthar."
"That being so, we'll all alight and prepare for the night."
When Dick sprang from his horse he staggered at first, not realizinghow much the cold had affected him, but a little vigorous flexing ofthe muscles restored the circulation, and, when an orderly had takentheir mounts, his comrades and he went to one of the fires, where theyspread out their hands and basked in the glow.
They had brought food on extra horses, and expert cooks were at work atonce. Colonel Winchester knew that if his men had plenty to eat andgood shelter they would be better fitted for the fierce work beforethem, and he spared nothing. Bacon and ham were soon frying on thecoals and the pots of coffee were bubbling.
The horses were put behind the high trees which formed a kind ofwindrow, and there they ate their forage, and raised their heads nowand then to neigh in content. Around the fires the hardy youths werejesting with one another, and were dragging up logs, on which theycould sit before the fires, while they ate their food and drank theircoffee. Far over their heads the wind was screaming among the ridges,but they did not heed it nor did they pay any attention to the flakesfalling around them. The sheltered cove caused such a rebound after thelong cold ride that they were boys again, although veterans of ahundred battles large and small.
Dick shared the exaltation of the rest, and had words of praise for themountaineer who had guided them to so sheltered a haven. He had nodoubt that his famous ancestor, Paul Cotter, and the great Henry Warehad often found refuge in such cosy nooks as this, and it pleased himto think that he was following in their steps. But he was surroundedby comrades and the great fires shed warmth and light throughout thewhole basin.
"It's a good log house," said Warner, who had been investigating, "andas it's two stories, with two rooms on each floor, a lot of us cansleep there. The stable and the corn crib will hold many more, but, asfor me, I think I'll sleep against one of these lean-tos themountaineers are throwing up. With that behind me, a big fire beforeme, two heavy blankets around me, and dead leaves under me, I ought tofare well. It will at least have better air than those sod houses inwhich some of the best families of Nebraska live, Frank Pennington."
"Never mind about the sod houses," rejoined Pennington, cheerfully."They're mighty good places in a blizzard. But I think I'll stayoutside too, if Colonel Winchester will let us."
The colonel soon disposed his force. The younger officers were tosleep before a fire as they wished, although about half way betweenmidnight and morning they were to join the watch, which he intended tobe strong and vigilant. Meanwhile they ate supper and their spiritswere so high that they almost made a festival of it. The aroma of theham and bacon, broiled in the winter open, would have made a jadedepicure hungry. They had sardines and oysters, in tins, and plenty ofcoffee, with army biscuits which were not hard to them. Some of themwanted to sing, but the colonel would not allow it in the cove,although they could chatter as much as they pleased around the fires.
"We don't need to sing," said Dick. "The wind is doing it for us. Justlisten to it, will you?"
All the mountain winds were blowing that night, coming from everydirection, and then circling swiftly in vast whirlwinds, while theridges and peaks and gorges made them sing their songs in many keys.Now it was a shriek, then a whistle, and then a deep full tone like anorgan. Blended, it had a majestic effect which was not lost on theyoung soldiers.
"I've heard it in the Green Mountains," said Warner, "but not undersuch conditions as we have here. I'm glad I have so much company. Ithink it would give me the creeps to be in the cove alone, with thatstorm howling over my head."
"Not to mention Slade and Skelly hunting through the snowdrifts foryou," said Pennington. "They'd take a good long look for you, George,knowing what a tremendous fellow you are, and then Dick and I would becompelled to take the trouble and danger of rescuing you."
"I hold you to that," said Warner. "You do hereby promise and solemnlypledge yourselves in case of my capture by Slade, Skelly or anybodyelse, to come at once through any hardship and danger to my rescue."
"We do," they said together, and they meant it.
Their situation was uncommon, and their pleasure in it deepened. Thesnow still fell, but the lean-tos, built with so much skill by soldiersand mountaineers, protected them, and the fires before them sank togreat beds of gleaming coals that gave out a grateful warmth. Faroverhead the wind still shrieked and howled, as if in anger because itcould not get at them in the deep cleft. But for Dick all theseshrieks and howls were transformed into a soothing song by his feelingof comfort, even of luxury. The cove was full of warmth and light andhe basked in it.
Pennington and Warner fell asleep, but Dick lay a while in a happy,dreaming state. He felt as he looked up at the cloudy sky and drivingsnow that, after all, there was something wild in every man that noamount of civilization could drive out. An ordinary bed and anordinary roof would be just as warm and better sheltered, but theyseldom gave him the same sense of physical pleasure that he felt as helay there with the storm driving by.
His dreamy state deepened, and with it the wilderness effect which thelittle valley, the high mountains around it and the raging winter made.His mind traveled far back once more and he easily imagined himself hisgreat ancestor, Paul Cotter, sleeping in the woods with his comradesand hidden from Indian attack. While the feeling was still strong uponhim he too fell asleep, and he did not awaken until it was time for himto take the watch with Pennington and Warner.
It was then about two o'clock in the morning, and the snow had ceasedto fall, but it lay deep in all places not sheltered, while the windhad heaped it up many feet in all the gorges and ravines of themountains. Dick thought he had never beheld a more majestic world. Allthe clouds were gone and hosts of stars glittered in a sky of brilliantblue. On every side of them rose the lofty peaks and ridges, clothed ingleaming white, the forests themselves a vast, white tracery. The airwas cold but pure and stimulating. The wind had ceased to blow, butfrom far points came the faint swish of sliding snow.
Dick folded his blankets, laid them away carefully, put on his heavyovercoat and gloves, and was ready. Colonel Winchester maintained aheavy watch, knowing its need, fully fifty men, rifle on shoulder andpistol at belt, patrolling all the ways by which a foe could come.
Dick and his comrades were with a picket at the farther end of thevalley, where the creek made its exit, rushing through a narrow andwinding gorge. There was a level space on either side of the creek,but it was too narrow for horsemen, and, clogged as it was with snow,it looked dangerous now for those on foot too. Nevertheless, thepicket kept a close watch. Dick and his friends were aware thatguerrillas knew much of the craft and lore of the wilderness, else theycould never have maintained themselves, and they did not cease for aninstant to watch the watery pass.
They were joined very soon by Shepard, upon whose high boots snow wasclinging to the very tops, and he said when Dick looked at himinquiringly:
"I see that you're an observer, Mr. Mason. Yes, I've been out on themountainside. Colonel Winchester suggested it, and I was glad to do ashe wished. It was difficult work in the snow, but Mr. Reed, our guide,was with me part of the time, and we climbe
d pretty high."
"Did you see anything?"
"No footsteps. That was impossible, because of the falling snow, but Ithink our friends, the enemy, are abroad in the mountains. The heavysnow may have kept them from coming much nearer to us than they arenow."
"What makes you think so?"
Shepard smiled.
"We heard sounds, odd sounds," he replied.
"Were they made by a whistle?" Dick asked eagerly. Shepard smiledagain.
"It was natural for you to ask that question, Mr. Mason," he replied,"but it was not a whistle. It was a deeper note, and it carried muchfarther, many times farther. Mr. Reed explained it to me. Somebodywith powerful lungs was blowing on a cow's horn."
"I've heard 'em. They use 'em in the hills back of us at home. Thesound will carry a tremendous distance on a still night like this. Doyou think it was intended as a signal?"
"It's impossible to say, but I think so. I think, too, that thebands--there were two of them, one replying to the other--belong to theSlade and Skelly outfit. Skelly has lived all his life in themountains and Slade is learning 'em fast."
"Then it behooves us to be watchful, and yet more watchful."
"It does. Maybe they're attempting an ambush, with which they mightsucceed against an ordinary troop, but not against such a troop asthis, led by such a man as Colonel Winchester. Hark, did you hear thatnoise?"
All of them listened. It sounded at first like the cow's horn, butthey concluded that it was the rumble, made by sliding snow, whichwould be sending avalanches down the slopes all through the night.
"Are you going out again, Mr. Shepard?" Dick asked.
"I think not, sir. Colonel Winchester wants me to stay here, and, evenif the enemy should come, we'll be ready for him."
They did not speak again for a while and they heard several times thenoise of the sliding snow. Then they heard a note, low and deep, whichthey were sure was that of the cow's horn, or its echo. It wasmultiplied and repeated, however, so much by the gorges that it wasimpossible to tell from what point of the compass it came.
But it struck upon Dick's ears like a signal of alarm, and he and allthe others of the picket stiffened to attention.