The Rock of Chickamauga - Joseph A. Altsheler (macos ebook reader .txt) 📗
- Author: Joseph A. Altsheler
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rippling in the grass ceased he was sure that they had reached it. Then
the fifty rifles cracked together and the Southern flank was swept by
fifty well-aimed bullets. Lying in their covert, Whitley's men reloaded
their breech-loading rifles and again sent in a deadly fire.
The main Northern force redoubled its efforts at the same time. The men
in blue sent in swarms of whistling bullets and Dick saw the front line
of the South retreating.
"We're rousing the wolves from their lairs," explained Pennington
exultantly as he sprang from his tree, just in time for a bullet to send
his hat flying from his head. Fortunately, it clipped only a lock of
hair, but he received in a good spirit Warner's admonishing words:
"Don't go wild, Frank. We've merely repelled the present attack. You
don't think that Forrest with superior forces is going to let us alone,
do you?"
"No, I don't," replied Pennington, "and don't you get behind that tree.
It's mine, and I'm coming back to it. I've earned it. I held it against
all kinds of bullets. Look at the scars made on each side of it by rebel
lead."
The firing now died. Whitley's flank movement had proved wholly
successful, and Colonel Winchester reinforced him in the little forest
peninsula with fifty more picked men, where they lay well hidden, a
formidable force for any assailant.
The silence now became complete, save for the stamping of the impatient
horses and the drone of insects in the woods and grass. Dick, lying
on his stomach and using his glasses, could see nothing in the forest
before them. It was to him in all its aspects an Indian battle, and he
believed in spite of what Warner had said that the enemy had retired
permanently.
Colonel Winchester and all the officers rose to their feet presently and
walked among the trees. No bullets came to tell them that they were
rash and then the senior officers held a conference, while all the men
remounted, save a dozen or so who would ride no more. But the colonel
did not abate one whit of his craft or caution.
They resumed the march toward Grant, but they avoided every field or
open space. They would make curves and lose time in order to keep in the
dense wood, but, as Dick knew, Colonel Winchester still suspected that
Forrest was hovering somewhere on his flank, covered by the great forest
and awaiting a favorable opportunity to attack.
They approached one of the deep and narrow streams that ultimately
find their way to the Mississippi. It had only one ford, and the scouts
galloping back informed them that the farther shore was held by a
powerful force of cavalry.
"It's Forrest," said Colonel Winchester with quiet conviction. "Knowing
every path of the woods, they've gone ahead of us, and they mean to cut
us off from Grant. Nevertheless we'll make a way."
He spoke firmly, but the junior officers of the staff did not exactly
see how they were going to force a ford defended by a larger number of
cavalry under the redoubtable Forrest.
"I didn't think Forrest would let us alone, and he hasn't," said
Pennington.
"No, he hasn't," said Warner, "and it seems that he's checkmated us,
too. Why, that river is swollen by the rains so much that it's a hard
job to cross it if no enemy were on the other side. But you'll note,
also, that the enemy, having got to the other side, can't come back
again in our face to attack us."
"But we want to go on and they don't," said Dick. "They're satisfied
with the enforced status quo, and we're not. Am I right, Professor?"
"You certainly are," replied Warner. "Now, our colonel is puzzled, as
you can tell by his looks, and so would I be, despite my great natural
military talents."
The Winchester regiment fell back into the woods, leaving the two
forces out of rifle shot of each other. Sentinels were posted by both
commanders not far from the river and the rest, dismounting, took their
ease, save the officers, who again went into close conference.
Afterward they sat among the trees and waited. It was low ground, with
the earth yet soaked from the heavy rain of the night before, and the
heat grew heavy and intense. The insects began to drone again, and once
more mosquitoes made life miserable. But the soldiers did not complain.
It was noon now, and they ate food from their knapsacks. Two springs of
clear water were found a little distance from the river and all drank
there. Then they went back to their weary waiting.
On the other side of the river they could see the dismounted troopers,
playing cards, sleeping or currying their horses. They seemed to be in
no hurry at all. Colonel Winchester sent divisions of scouts up and down
the stream, and, both returning after a while, reported that the river
was not fordable anywhere.
Colonel Winchester sat down under a tree and smoked his pipe. The longer
he smoked the more corrugated his brow became. He looked angrily at the
ford, but it would be folly to attempt a passage there, and, containing
himself as best he could, he waited while the long afternoon waned. His
men at least would get a good rest.
Dick and his comrades, selecting the dryest place they could find,
spread their blankets and lay down. Protecting their faces from the
mosquitoes with green leaves, they sank into a deep quiet. Dick even
drowsed for a while. He could not think of a way out of the trap, and
he was glad it was the duty of older men like Colonel Winchester and the
majors and captains to save them.
The heat of the day increased with the coming of afternoon, and Dick's
eyelids grew heavier. He had become so thoroughly hardened to march and
battle that the presence of the enemy on the other side of a river did
not disturb him. What was the use of bothering about the rebels as long
as they did not wish to fire upon one?
His eyes closed for a few minutes, and then his dreaming mind traversed
space with incredible rapidity. He was back in Pendleton, sitting on
the portico with his mother, watching the flowers on the lawn nod in the
gentle wind. His cousin Harry Kenton saluted him with a halloo and came
bounding toward the porch, and the halloo caused Dick to awake and sit
He rubbed his eyes violently and looked around a little bit ashamed.But two captains older than himself were sound asleep with their backs
against trees.
Dick stood up and shook himself violently. Whatever others might do he
must not allow himself to relax so much. He saw that the sun was slowly
descending and that the full heat of the afternoon was passing. Colonel
Winchester had withdrawn somewhat among the trees and he beckoned to
him. Sergeant Whitley was standing beside the colonel.
"Dick," said Colonel Winchester, "colored men have brought us news that
Colonel Grierson of our army, with a strong raiding force of nearly two
thousand cavalry is less than a day's march away and on the same side
of this river that we are. We have received the news from three separate
sources and it must be true. Probably Forrest's men know it, too, but
expect Grierson to pass on, wholly ignorant that we're here. I have
chosen you and Sergeant Whitley to bring Grierson to our relief. The
horses are ready. Now go, and God speed you. The sergeant will tell you
what we know as you ride."
Dick sprang at once into the saddle, and with a brief good-bye he and
the sergeant were soon in the forest riding toward the southeast. Dick
was alive and energetic again. All that laziness of mind and body was
gone. He rode on a great ride and every sense was alert.
"Tell me," he said, "just about what the news is."
"Three men," replied the sergeant, "came in at different times with
tales, but the three tales agree. Grierson has made a great raid, even
further down than we have gone. He has more than double our numbers, and
if we can unite with him it's likely that we can turn Forrest into the
pursued instead of the pursuer. They say we can hit his trail about
twenty-five miles from here, and if that's so we'll bring him up to the
ford by noon to-morrow. Doesn't it look promising to you, Lieutenant
Mason?"
"It does look promising, Sergeant Whitley, if we don't happen to be
taken by the Johnnies who infest this region. Besides, you'll have to
guide through the dark to-night. You're trained to that sort of thing."
"You can see pretty well in the dark yourself, sir; and since our way
lies almost wholly through forest I see no reason why we should be
captured."
"That's so, sergeant. I'm just as much of an optimist as you are. You
keep the course, and I'm with you to the finish."
They rode rather fast at first as the sun had not yet set, picking their
way through the woods, and soon left their comrades out of sight. The
twilight now came fast, adding a mournful and somber red to the vast
expanse of wilderness. The simile of an Indian fight returned to Dick
with increased force. This was not like any battle with white men in
the open fields. It was a combat of raiders who advanced secretly under
cover of the vast wilderness.
The twilight died with the rapidity of the South, and the darkness,
thick at the early hours, passed over the curve of the earth. For a time
Dick and the sergeant could not see many yards in front and they rode
very slowly. After a while, as the sky lightened somewhat and their eyes
also grew keen, they made better speed. Then they struck a path through
the woods leading in the right direction, and they broke into a trot.
The earth was so soft that their horses' feet gave back but little
sound, and both were confident they would not meet any enemy in the
night at least.
"Straight southeast," said the sergeant, "and we're bound to strike
Grierson's tracks. After that we'd be blind if we couldn't follow the
trail made by nearly two thousand horsemen."
The path still led in the direction they wished and they rode on
silently for hours. Once they saw a farmhouse set back in the woods, and
they were in fear lest dogs come out and bark alarm, but there was no
sound and they soon left it far behind.
They passed many streams, some of which were up to their saddle girths,
and then they entered a road which was often so deep in mud that they
were compelled to turn into the woods on the side. But no human being
had interfered with their journey, and their hopes rose to the zenith.
They came, finally, into an open region of cotton fields, and the
sergeant now began to watch closely for the great trail they hoped to
find. A force as large as Grierson's would not attempt a passage through
the woods, but would seek some broad road and Sergeant Whitley expected
to find it long before morning.
It was now an hour after midnight and they reckoned that they had come
about the right distance. There was a good moon and plenty of stars and
the sergeant gave himself only a half-hour to find the trail.
"There's bound to be a wide road somewhere among these fields, the kind
we call a county road."
"It's over there beyond that rail fence," said Dick. They urged their
horses into a trot, and soon found that Dick was right. A road of red
clay soft from the rains stretched before them.
"A man doesn't have to look twice here for a trail. See," said the
sergeant.
The road from side to side was plowed deep with the hoofs of horses,
every footprint pointing northward.
"Grierson's cavalry," said Dick.
"I take it that it can't be anything else. There is certainly in these
parts no rebel force of cavalry large enough to make this trail."
"How old would you say these tracks are?"
"Hard to tell, but they can't have been made many hours ago. We'll press
forward, lieutenant, and we can save time going through the fields on
the edge of the road."
Although they had to take down fences they made good speed and just
as the sun was rising they saw the light of a low campfire among some
trees, lining either bank of a small creek. They approached warily,
until they saw the faded blue uniforms. Then they galloped forward,
shouting that they were friends, and in a few minutes were in the
presence of Grierson himself.
He had been making a great raid, but he was eager now for
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