Читать книгу: «Si Klegg, Book 5», страница 13
CHAPTER XIX. THE FIRST SCRAPE
A LITTLE INITIATORY SKIRMISH WITH THE GUERRILLAS
THE train passed Shelbyville in the course of the afternoon and halted on a switch. Tired of reading, Si was standing at the door of the car, looking out over the country and trying to identify places they had passed or camped at during the campaign of the previous Summer. Suddenly his far-seeing eyes became fixed on the intervals in the trees on the farthest hill-top. Without turning his head he called Shorty in a tone which made that worthy lose all interest in his inevitable pack of cards and spring to his side. Without speaking, Si pointed to the sky-line of the eminence, against which moving figures sketched themselves.
"Guerrillas," said Shorty.
Si nodded affirmatively.
"Skeetin' acrost the country to jump this train or some other," continued Shorty.
"This one, most likely," answered Si.
"Yes," accorded Shorty, with an estimating glance at the direction of the range of hills, "and'll aim at strikin' us at some bridge or deep cut about 10 miles from here."
"Where we'll probably git sometime after dark," assented Si.
"Yes. Let's talk to the conductor and engineer."
The train had started in the meanwhile, but presently the conductor came back into the caboose. He had been a soldier, but so severely wounded as to necessitate his discharge as incapable of further field service.
"I hardly think there's any danger," said Conductor Madden. "Things 've been very quiet this side of the Tennessee River ever since last October, when Crook, Wilder and Minty belted the life out of old Joe Wheeler down there at Farmington and Rodgersville. Our cavalry gave theirs an awful mauling, and them that were lucky enough to escape acrost the river have seemed purty well satisfied to stay on that side. A hell's mint of 'em were drowned trying to get acrost the river. Our cavalry's been patrolling the country ever since, but hasn't seen anything of consequence. Still, it is possible that some gang has managed to sneak acrost a blind-ford somewhere, and in hopes to catch a train. Guerrillas are always where you find 'em."
"Well, I'll bet a hatful o' red apples," said Si, "that them was guerrillas that we saw, and they're makin' for this train. The rebels in Nashville somehow got information to 'em about it."
"Them's guerrillas," affirmed Shorty, "sure's the right bower takes the left. None o' our cavalry's stringin' around over the hill-tops. Then, I made out some white horses, which our cavalry don't have. It's just as Si says, them Nashville spies 's put the rebel cavalry onto us."
"Them cowardly, sneaking, death-deserving rebels in Nashville," broke out Conductor Madden, with a torrent of oaths. "Every man in Nashville that wears citizen's clothes ought to be hung on sight, and half the women. They don't do nothing but lay around and take the oath of allegiance, watch every move we make like a cat does a mouse, and send information through the lines. You can't draw a ration of hardtack but they know it, and they're looking down your throat while you're eating it. They haint got the gravel in their craws to go out and fight themselves, and yet they've cost us a hundred times as many lives as if they had. Why does the General allow them to stay there? He ought to order rocks tied to the necks of every blasted one of 'em and fling 'em into the Cumberland River and then pour turpentine on the infernal old town and touch a match to it. That's what I'd do if I had my way. There's more, brimstone trouble to the acre in Nashville than in any town on the footstool, not barring even Richmond."
"Nashville certainly is tough," sighed Shorty. "'Specially in gamblers. Worst tin-horn crowd that ever fumbled a deck or skinned a greeny out o' the last cent o' his bounty. Say, Si, do you remember that tin-horny that I cleaned out o' his whole pile down there at Murfreesboro, with them cards that I'd clipped with a pair o' scissors, so's I'd know 'em by the feel, and he never ketched on till his last shinplaster was gone, and then I throwed the pack in the fire? Well, I seen him down there at the depot smellin' around for suckers. I told him to let our boys alone or I'd snap his neck off short. Great Jehosephat, but I wanted a chance to git up town and give some o' them cold-deckers a whirl."
"Well," said Conductor Madden, after some deliberation, "I believe what you boys say. You're not the kind to get rattled and make rebels out of cedar-bushes. All the same, there's nothing to do but go ahead. My orders were to take this train through to Chattanooga as quick as I could. I can't stop on a suspicion."
"No, indeed," assented Si and Shorty.
"There's no place to telegraph from till we get to Bridgeport, on the Tennessee, and if we could telegraph they wouldn't pay any attention to mere reports of having seen rebels at a distance. They want something more substantial than that."
"Of course they do, and very properly," said Si. "Is your engineer all right?"
"Game as they make 'em, and loyal as Abraham Lincoln himself," responded the conductor.
"Well, I believe our boys 's all right. They're green, and they're friskier than colts in a clover field, but they're all good stuff, and I believe we kin stand off any ordinary gang o' guerrillas. I'll chance it, anyhow. This's a mighty valuable train to risk, but it ought to go through, for we don't know how badly they may need it. You tell your engineer to go ahead carefully and give two long whistles if he sees anything dangerous."
"I'll go and git onto the engine with him," said Shorty.
"Wait a little," said Si. "We'll get the boys together, issue 'em catridges and give 'em a little preparation for a light, if we're to have one."
The sun had gone down and the night was at hand. The train had stopped to take on a supply of wood from a pile by the roadside. Some of the boys were helping pitch the heavy sticks onto the engine, the rest ware skylarking along the tops of the cars in the irrepressible exuberance of animal spirits of boys who had had plenty to eat and were without a care in the world. Harry Joslyn had been giving exhibitions of standing on his head on the runningboard. Gid Mackall had converted a piece of rope he had picked up into a lasso, and was trying to imitate the feats he had seen performed at the last circus. Monty Scruggs, the incipient lawyer, who was proud of his elocutionary talents, had vociferated at the woods they were passing, "Rienzi's Address to the Romans," "The Last Sigh of the Moor," "Absalom," "The Battle of Waterloo," and similar staples of Friday afternoon recitations. Alf Russell, the embryonic doctor, who sang a fine tenor, was rendering "Lily Dale" with much impressment, and little Pete Skidmore was "skipping" the flat hill-stones over an adjacent pond.
"'Tention!" shouted Si.
There was something so different in the tone from that in which Si had before spoken, that it arrested the attention of every one of them instantly.
"Git your guns and fall in two ranks on that sod, there, at once," commanded Si, in quick, curt accents.
An impalpable something in the tones and words stilled everybody into seriousness. This was deepened by the look they saw on Si's face.
They snatched up their guns and hurried into line on the spot indicated, looking into each other's countenances and into that of Si's for an explanation of what was up.
"Mackall and Joslyn," called Shorty from the car, "come here and take this box of catridges."
"Now," said Si, as they did this, "Joslyn, you and Mackall issue those to the boys. One of you walk down in front and the other behind and give each man two packages of catridges. You boys open the packages and put the catridges in your catridgeboxes, bullet-end up, and the caps in your capboxes."
The boys followed his directions with nervous eagerness, inspired by his words and manner, and then fixed their anxious gaze upon him for further impartment.
Si walked down in front, in the rear of the line, superintending the operation.
"Now, boys," said Si, taking his place in front and facing them, "you've bin talkin' about guerrillas ever since we crossed the Ohio, but now there's a prospect o' meetin' some. I hadn't expected to see any till after we'd reached Chattanoogy, but guerrillas's never where you expect 'em."
"Knowin' you was so anxious to see 'em, they've come up the road to meet you," interjected Shorty.
"It looks," continued Si, "as if they'd got news of the train and slipped out here to take it away from us. They may attack it at any minute after we start agin. Now, we mustn't let 'em git it. It's too valuable to the Government to lose and too valuable to them to git. We mustn't let 'em have it, I tell you. Now, I want you to load your guns carefully, handle 'em very carefully after they are loaded, git back in the cars, stop skylarkin', keep very quiet, listen for orders, and when you git 'em, obey 'em to the letter—no more, no less."
"Can't we go back on top o' the cars, where we kin watch for 'em, and git the first pop at 'em?" said Harry Joslyn, in a pleading tone.
"No; that's too dangerous, and you'll lose time in gittin' together," answered Si. "You must all come into the cars with me."
"Sergeant," said Shorty, "let me have a couple to go on the engine with me."
"Le' me go. Le' me go," they all seemed to shout at once, holding up their hands in eager school-boy fashion.
"I can't take but two o' you," said Shorty; "more'd be in the way."
They all pressed forward. "Count out. That's the only fair way," shouted the boys in the center.
"That's so," said Harry Joslyn. "Stand still till I count. Imry, Ory, Ickery, Ann, Quevy, Quavy, Irish Navy, Filleson, Folleson, Nicholas—Buck! That's me. I'm it!"
He rapidly repeated the magic formula, and pronounced Gid Mackall "it."
"He didn't count fair! He didn't count fair! He never counts fair," protested the others; but Si hustled them into the cars and the train started.
It had grown quite dark. The boys sat silent and anxiously expectant on their seats, clutching their loaded guns, held stiffly upright, and watching Si's face as well as they could by the dim light of the single oil lamp. Si leaned against the side of the door and watched intently.
Only little Pete Skidmore was unrepressed by the gravity of the situation. Rather, it seemed to spur his feet, his hands and his mouth to nimbler activity. He was everywhere—at one moment by Si's side in the door of the car, at the next climbing up to peer out of the window; and then clambering to the top of the car, seeing legions of guerrillas in the bushes, until sternly ordered back by Si. Then he would drop the butt of his musket on the floor with a crash which would start every one of the taut nerves to throbbing. And the questions that he asked:
"Say, Sergeant, will the guerrillas holler before they shoot, or shoot before they holler?"
"Sometimes one and sometimes the other," responded Si, absently. "Keep quiet, Pete."
Quiet for a minute, and then:
"Shall we holler before we shoot or shoot before we holler?"
"Neither. Keep perfectly quiet, and 'tend strictly to your little business."
"I think we ought to holler some. Makes it livelier. What sort o' guns has the guerrillas?"
"Every kind—shot-guns, pistols, rifles, flint-locks, cap-locks—every kind. Now, you mustn't ask me any more questions. Don't bother me."
"Yes, sir; I won't."
Quiet for at least five seconds. Then:
"Have the guerrillas guns that'll shoot through the sides of the cars?"
"Probably."
"Then I'd ruther be on top, where I kin see something. Kin they shoot through the sides o' the tender, and let all the water out and stop the engine?"
"Guess not."
"Haven't they any real big guns that will?"
"Mebbe."
"Kin we plug up the holes, anyway, then, and start agin?"
"Probably."
"Hain't the engineer got an iron shield that he kin git behind, so they can't shoot him?"
"Can't he turn the steam onto 'em, and scald 'em if they try to git at him?"
"What'll happen if they shoot the head-light out?"
"Why wouldn't it be a good idee to put a lot o' us on the cow-ketcher, with fixed bayonets, and then let the engineer crack on a full head o' steam and run us right into 'em?"
"Great Scott, Pete, you must stop askin' questions," said Si desperately. "Don't you see Pm busy?"
Pete was silent for another minute. Then he could hold in no longer:
"Sergeant, jest one question more, and then I'll keep quiet."
"Well, what is it?"
"If the rebels shoot the bell, won't it make a noise that they kin hear clear back at Nashville?"
The engine suddenly stopped, and gave two long whistles. Above the screech they heard shots from Shorty and the two boys with him.
"Here they are, boys," said Si, springing out and running up the bank. "All out, boys. Come up here and form."
As he reached the top of the bank a yell and a volley came from the other side of the creek. Shorty joined him at once, bringing the two boys on the engine with him.
"We've bin runnin' through this deep cut," he explained, "and jest come out onto the approach to the bridge, when we see a little fire away ahead, and the head-light showed some men runnin' down on to the bank on the other side o' the crick. We see in a moment what was up. They've jest got to the road and started a fire on the bridge that's about a mile ahead. Their game was to burn that bridge, and when this train stopped, burn this one behind us, ketch us, whip us, and take the train. We shot at the men we see on the bank, but probably didn't do 'em no harm. They're all pilin' down now to the other bank to whip us out and git the train. You'd better deploy the boys along the top o' the bank here and open on 'em. We can't save that bridge, but we kin this and the train, by keepin' 'em on the other side o' the crick. I'll take charge o' the p'int here with two or three boys, and drive off any o' them that tries to set fire to the bridge, and you kin look out for the rest o' the line. It's goin' to be longtaw work, for you see the crick's purty wide, but our guns 'll carry further'n theirs, and if we keep the boys well in hand I think we kin stand 'em off without much trouble."
"Sure," said Si confidently. "You watch the other side o' the bridge and I'll look out for the rest."
The eager boys had already begun firing, entering into the spirit of the thing with the zest of a Fame of town-ball. Shorty took Gid Mackall and Harry Joslyn down to the cover of some large stones, behind which they could lie and command the approach to the other end of the bridge with their rifles. Si took the other boys and placed them behind rocks and stumps along the crest and instructed them to fire with as good aim as possible at the flashes from the other side. In a minute or two he had a fine skirmish-line in operation, with the boys firing as deliberately and accurately as veterans. The engineer had backed the train under the cover of the cut, and presently he and the conductor came up with guns and joined the firing-line.
"I say, Shorty," said Si, coming down to where that worthy was stationed, "what d' you think o' the boys now? They take to this like a duck to water. They think it's more fun than squirrel-huntin'. Listen."
They heard Monty Scruggs's baritone call:
"Say, Alf, did you see me salt that feller that's bin yellin' and cussin' at me over there? He's cussin' now for something else. I think I got him right where he lived."
"I wasn't paying any attention to you," Alf's fine tenor replied, as his rammer rang in his barrel. "I've got business o' my own to 'tend to. There's a feller over there that's firing buckshot at me that I've got to settle, and here goes."
"The 200th Injianny Volunteers couldn't put up a purtier skirmish than this," murmured Si, in accents of pride, as he raised his gun and fired at a series of flashes on the farther bank.
"I say, tell that engineer to uncouple his engine and bring it back up here where the head-light'll cover the other side," said Shorty. "It'll make the other side as light as day and we kin see every move, while we'll be in the dark."
"Good idee," said Si, hastening to find the engineer.
He was none too soon. As the engine rolled up, flooding its advance with light, it brought a storm of bullets from the other side, but revealed three men creeping toward the other end of the bridge. Two were carrying pine knots, and the third, walking behind, had a stick of blazing pine, which he was trying to shield from observation with his hat.
"Take the front man, Harry. Take the second one, Gid. I'll take the man with the light," commanded Shorty.
The three rifles cracked in quick succession and the three men dropped.
"Bully, boys," ejaculated Shorty, as he reloaded. "You'll do. The 200th Injianny's proud o' you."
"I hit my man in the leg," said Harry, flushing with delight, as he bit off another cartridge. "Jerusalem, I wish they'd send another one down."
"I drawed on my man's bundle o' wood," said Gid, "and then dropped a little, so's to git him where he was biggest and make sure o' him."
"Well, my man's beauty's spiled forever," said Shorty. "The light flared up on his face and I let him have it there."
"But Linden saw another light.
When beat the drums at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to hight
The darkness of her scenery,"
recited Monty Scruggs. "Gracious, I'm hit!"
"Where?" asked Si, running up to him.
"Through my leg," answered Monty.
"Kin you walk?"
"I guess so."
"Well, make your way back to the cars and git in and lay down."
"Not much," answered Monty determinedly. "It don't hurt much, and I'm going to stay and see this thing out. I can tie it up with my handkerchief."
"Scatter again, boys," Si warned several, who had rushed up; "don't make too big a mark for the fellers on the other side. Go back and 'tend to your bizniss. I'll help him tie up his wound. I'm afeared, though, that some o' the boys are runnin' out o' catridges, they have bin shootin' so rapidly. I want a couple o' you to run back to the cars and git another box."
"Let me and Sandy go," pleaded little Pete Skidmore. "The big boys went before."
"All right; skip out. Break the lid o' the box off before you take it out o' the car. We haven't anything here to do it with. Leave your guns here."
"No, we'll take 'em along," pleaded Pete, with a boyish love for his rifle. "We mightn't be able to find 'em agin."
The firing from the opposite bank became fitful, died down, and then ceased altogether. Then a couple of shots rang out from far in the rear in the direction of the train. This seemed to rouse the rebels to another volley, and then all became quiet. The shots in the rear disturbed Si, who started back to see what they meant, but met Pete Skidmore and Sandy Baker coming panting up, carrying a box of cartridges between them.
"We got back as quick as we could," Pete explained as he got his breath. "Just as we was coming to the train we see a rebel who was carrying a fat-pine torch, and making for the train to set it on fire. We shot him. Was that all right?"
"Perfectly," said Si. "Was there any more with him?"
"No. We looked around for others, but couldn't find none. That's what kept up so long."
"The Johnnies have given it up and gone," said Shorty, coming up. "I went over to a place where I could see 'em skippin' out by the light o' the burnin' o' the other bridge. We might as well put out guards here and go into camp till mornin'."
"All right," assented Si. "We've saved the train and bridge, and that's all we kin do."
CHAPTER XX. AFTER THE SKIRMISH
WILD SHOOTING WAS ALL THAT SAVED A SURPRISED COLORED MAN
THOUGH Si and Shorty were certain that the trouble was over and the rebels all gone, it was impossible to convince the boys of this. The sudden appearance of the guerrillas had been so mysterious that they could not rid themselves of the idea that the dark depths beyond the creek were yet filled with vicious foemen animated by dire intents.
Si and Shorty gathered the boys together on the bank above the railroad cut, had fires built, posted a few guards, and ordered the rest of the boys to lie down and go to sleep. They set the example by unrolling their own blankets at the foot of a little jack-oat, whose thickly-growing branches, still bearing a full burden of rusty-brown leaves, made an excellent substitute for a tent.
"Crawl in. Si, and git some sleep," said Shorty, filling his pipe. "I'll take a smoke and set up for an hour or two. If it looks worth while then, I'll wake you up and let you take a trick o' keepin' awake. But if everything looks all right I'll jest crawl in beside you and start a snorin'-match."
But neither orders nor example could calm down the nerves of boys who had just had their first experience under fire. There was as little rest for them as for a nest of hornets which had been rudely shaken. They lay down at Si's order, but the next minute they were buzzing together in groups about the fires, or out with their guns to vantage points on the bank, looking for more enemies. Their excited imaginations made the opposite bank of the creek alive with men, moving in masses, squads and singly, with the sounds of footsteps, harsh commands, and of portentous movements.
Two or three times Shorty repressed them and sharply ordered them to lie down and go to sleep. Then he decided to let them wear themselves out, braced his back against a sapling near the fire, pulled out from his pocket the piece of Maria's dress, and became lost in a swarm of thoughts that traveled north of the Ohio River.
He was recalled by Harry Joslyn and Gid Mackall appearing before him.
"Say, Corpril," inquired Harry, "what's to be done with them rebels over there at the end o' the bridge?"
"Them that we shot?" said Shorty carelessly, feeling around for his tobacco to refill his pipe. "Nothin'. I guess we've done enough for 'em already."
"Don't we do nothin' more?" repeated Harry.
"No," answered Shorty, as he rubbed the whittlings from his plug to powder in the hollow of his hand.
"Just plug at 'em as you would at a crow, and then go on your way whistlin'?" persisted Harry.
"Certainly," answered Shorty, filling his pipe and looking around for a sliver with which to light it. "What're you thinkin' about?"
"I don't hardly know," hesitated Harry. "It seems awful strange just to blaze away at men and then pay no more attention to 'em. They mayn't be knocked out at all—only 'possumin'."
"No 'possumin' about them fellers," said Shorty sententiously, as he lighted his pipe. "Feller that gits an ounce o' lead from a Springfield rifle anywhere in his carkiss don't play off nor purtend. He's got something real to occupy his attention, if he's got any attention left to occupy. You needn't bother any more about them fellers over there. Their names's mud. They're now only part o' the real estate on the other side o' the crick. They're suddently become no good for poll-tax; only to be assessed by the acre."
"So you're sure they can't do more harm to the bridge?"
"No more'n the dead leaves on the banks."
"But I thought," persisted Harry, "that when a man's killed something had to be done—coroner's inquest, corpse got ready, funeral, preacher, neighbors gather in, and so on."
"Well, you needn't bother about any obsequies to them fellers over there," said Shorty, sententiously, as he pulled away at his pipe. "You done your whole share when you done the heavy work o' providin' the corpses. Let anybody that wants to put on any frills about plantin' 'em. If we have time tomorrow mornin' and nothin' better to do, we may go over there and dig holes and put 'em in. But most likely we'll be needed to rebuild that bridge they burnt. I'd rather do that, so's we kin hurry on to Chattynoogy. Buzzards'll probably be their undertakers. They've got a contract from the Southern Confedrisy for all that work. You lay down and go to sleep. That's the first dooty of a soldier. You don't know what may be wanted o' you tomorrow, and you should git yourselves in shape for anything—fightin', marchin' or workin'."
"And sha'n't we do nothin' neither to that man that we shot when he was tryin' to set fire to the train?" asked little Pete Skidmore, who with Sandy Baker had come up and listened to Shorty's lecture. "He's still layin' out there where he dropped, awful still. Me and Sandy took a piece o' fat pine and went down and looked at him. We didn't go very close. We didn't like to. He seemed so awful quiet and still."
"No; you let him alone," snapped Shorty impatiently. "He'll keep. Lay down and git some sleep, I tell you. What need you bother about a dead rebel? He ain't makin' no trouble. It's the livin' ones that need lookin' out for."
The boys' looks showed that they were face to face with one of the incomprehensibilities of war. But they lay down and tried to go to sleep, and Shorty's thoughts returned to Indiana.
A shot rang out from the post on which he had stationed Jim Humphreys. He was on his feet in an instant, with his gun in hand, and in the next Si was beside him.
"What's up?" inquired Si, rubbing his eyes.
"Nothin', I believe," answered Shorty. "But hold the boys and I'll go out and see."
He strode forward to Jim's side and demanded what he had shot at.
"I saw some men tryin' to cross the crick there," replied Jim, pointing with his rammer in the direction of the opposite bank.
"There, you kin see 'em for yourself."
"I don't see no men," said Shorty, after a moment's scrutiny.
"There they are. Don't you see that white there?" said Jim, capping his musket for another shot.
"That white," said Shorty contemptously, "is some water-birches. They was there when you came on guard, for I noticed 'em, and they hain't moved since. You seen 'em then, lookin' just as they do now. You're a fool to think you kin see anything white in a rebel. 'Taint their color."
"I don't care," half whimpered Jim. "Gid Mackall, and Harry Joslyn, and Alf Russell, and Pete Skidmore, and even Sandy Baker, have all shot rebels, and I hain't hit none. I don't have half-a-show."
"Be patient," Shorty consoled him. "Your three years's only begun. You'll have lots o' chances yit. But if I ketch you shootin' at any more white birches I'll tie you up by the thumbs."
Shorty returned to the fire. Si bade the boys he down again, and took his own blanket. Shorty relighted his pipe, took out his never-failing deck of cards and began running them over.
Jim Humphreys's shot had given new restlessness to the boys. They did not at all believe in Shorty's diagnosis of the situation. There must be more men lurking over there whence all that murderous shooting had come only a little while ago. Jim Humphreys was more than probably right. One after another of them quietly slipped away from the fire with his gun and made his way down to Jim Humphreys's post, which commanded what seemed to be a crossing of the creek. They stood there and scanned the opposite bank of darkness with tense expectancy. They had their ears tuned up to respond to even the rustle of the brown, dry leaves on the trees and the murmur of the creek over the stones. They even saw the white birches move around from place to place and approach the water, but Shorty's dire threat prevented their firing until they got something more substantial.
"There's rebels over there, sure as you're born,"' murmured Jim to them, without turning his head to relax his fixed gaze nor taking his finger from the trigger of his cocked gun. "Wish they'd fire a gun first to convince that old terror of a Corpril, who thinks he kin tell where rebels is just by the smell. I'd—"
"Sh! Jim, I hear a hoss's hoofs," said Harry Joslyn.
"Sh! so do I," echoed Gid Mackall.
They all listened with painful eagerness.
"Hoss's hoofs and breakin' limbs, sure's you're a foot high," whispered Harry. "And they're comin' down the hill this way."
"That's right. They're a'most to the crick now," assented Gid. "I'm going to shoot."
"No; I've got the right to a first shot," said Jim. "You fellers hold off."
Bang went Jim's gun, followed almost instantly by the others.
"Hi, dere, boys; I's done found you at las'! Whoopee!" called out a cheery voice from across the creek, and a man rode boldly down to the water's edge, where the boys were nervously reloading.
"Now, Jim Humphreys, what in blazes are you bangin' away at now?" angrily demanded Si, striding up. "At a cotton-tailed rabbit or a sycamore stump?"
"The woods is full o' rebel cavalry comin' acrost the crick," gasped Jim, as he rammed down his cartridge. "There, you kin see 'em for yourself."
"What foh you come dis-a-way, boys?" continued the voice of the man on horseback. "I done los' you! I fought we done agreed to go ober by Simpson's hill, an' I jine you dar. I went dat-a-way, an' den I hear you shootin' ober dis-a-way, an' seed yoh fiah, and I cut acrost to git to you. Whah'd you git so many guns, an' sich big ones? Sound like sojer guns. I done beared dem way ober dah, an' I—"
"Hold on, boys," sternly shouted Shorty, springing in front of them and throwing up their guns. "Don't one o' you dare shoot! Hold up, I say! Hello, you there! Who are you?"
"Who's me?" said the negro, astonished by the strange voice. "I's Majah Wilkinson's Sam, Massa Patrol. I's got a pass all right. De old Majah done tole me I could go out coon-huntin' wid Kunnel Oberly's boys tonight, but I done missed dem."
"Come ashore here, boy," commanded Shorty, "and be thankful that you're alive. You've had a mighty narrow squeak of it. Next time you go out coon huntin' be sure there's no Yankee and rebel soldiers huntin' one another in the neighborhood. Coons have a tough time then."
"Yankee sojers!" gasped the negro, as he was led back to the fire, and saw the blue uniforms. "Lawdy, massy, don't kill me. I pray, sah, don't. I hain't done nuffin. Sho' I hain't. Massa said you'd burn me alibe if you eber cotched me, but you won't, will you?"
"We ain't goin' to hurt you," said Shorty. "Sit down there by the fire and git the goose-flesh offen you." Then turning to the boys he remarked sarcastically:
