XVI.

AN HONEST FOP.

Stuart moved again at dawn. The scene of the preceding evening had pa.s.sed away like a dream. We were in the saddle, and advancing.

Riding beside Lieutenant Tom Herbert, I conversed with that worthy, and found the tedious march beguiled by his gay and insouciant talk.

His "record" was simple. He had volunteered in the infantry, and at the battle of Cold Harbor received a wound in the leg which disqualified him for a foot-soldier thenceforward. His friends succeeded in procuring for him the commission of lieutenant, and he was a.s.signed to duty as drill-master at a camp of instruction near Richmond.

"Here I was really in clover, old fellow," said Tom, laughingly "no more toils, no more hardships, no bullets, or hard tack, or want of soap. A snowy shirt every day--kid gloves if I wanted them--and the sound of cannon at a very remote distance to lull me to repose, my boy.

Things had changed, they had indeed! I looked back with scorn on the heavy musket and cartridge-box. I rode a splendidly groomed horse, wore a new uniform shining with gold braid, a new cap covered with ditto, boots which you could see your face in, a magnificent sash, and spurs so long and martial that they made the pavement resound, and announced my approach at the distance of a quarter of a mile! I say the pavement; I was a good deal on the pavement--that of the fashionable Franklin street being my favorite haunt. And as the Scripture says, it is not good for man to be alone, I had young ladies for companions. My life was grand, superb--none of your low military exposure, like that borne by the miserable privates and officers in the field! I slept in town, lived at a hotel, mounted my horse after breakfast, at the Government stables near my lodgings and went gallantly at a gallop, to drill infantry for an hour or two at the camp of instruction. This was a bore, I acknowledge, but life can not be all flowers. It was soon over, however--I galloped gallantly back--dined with all the courses at my hotel, and then lit my cigar and strolled up Franklin. I wore my uniform and spurs on these promenades--wild horses tearing me would not have induced me to doff the spurs! They were so martial! They jingled so! They gave a military and ferocious set-off to my whole appearance, and were immensely admired by the fair s.e.x! Regularly on coming back from my arduous and dangerous duties at camp, I brushed my uniform, put on my red sash, and with one hand resting with dignity on my new sword belt, advanced to engage the enemy--on Franklin street."

Tom Herbert's laugh was contagious; his whole bearing so sunny and _riante_ that he was charming.

"Well, how did you awake from your _dolce far niente?_" I said.

"By an effort of the will, old fellow--for I really could not stand that. It was glorious, delightful--that war-making in town; but there was a thorn in it. I was ashamed of myself. 'Tom Herbert you are not a soldier, you are an impostor,' I said; 'you are young, healthy, as good food for powder as anybody else, and yet here you are, safely laid away in a bomb-proof, while your friends are fighting. Wake, rouse yourself, my friend! The only way to regain the path of rect.i.tude is to go back to the army!"

"I said that, Surry," Tom continued, "and as I could not go back into the infantry on account of my leg, I applied for an a.s.signment to duty in the cavalry. Then the war office had a time of it. I besieged the nabobs of the red tape day and night, and they got so tired of me at last that they told me to find a general who wanted an aid and they would a.s.sign me."

"Well, as I was coming out of the den I met General Jeb Stuart going in. I knew him well, and he was tenth cousin to my grandmother, which you know counts for a great deal in Virginia."

"What's the matter, Tom?" he said.

"I want a place in the cavalry, general."

"What claim have you?"

"Shot in the leg--can't walk--am tired of drilling men in bomb-proof."

"Good!" he said. "That's the way to talk. Come in here."

"And he dragged me along. I found that one of his aids had just been captured--he wanted another, and he applied for me. A month afterward his application was approved--short for the war office. That was five days ago. I got into the saddle,--pushed for the Rapidan--got to Middleburg--and arrived in time for supper."

"That's my history, old fellow, except that I have just fallen in love--with the young angel who waited on me at supper, Miss Katy Dare.

I opened the campaign in a corner last night--and I intend to win her, Surry, or perish in the attempt!"

XVII.

STUART GRAZES CAPTURE.

As Tom Herbert uttered these words, a loud shout in front startled us.

Stuart had ridden on ahead of his column, through the immense deserted camps around Wolf Run Shoals, attended only by two or three staff officers.

As I now raised my head quickly, I saw him coming back at headlong speed, directing his horse by means of the halter only, and hotly pursued by a detachment of Federal cavalry, firing on him as they pressed, with loud shouts, upon his very heels.

"Halt!" shouted the enemy. And this order was followed by "bang! bang!

bang!"

Stuart did not obey the order.

"Halt! halt!"

And a storm of bullets whistled around our heads. I had drawn my sword, but before I could go to Stuart's a.s.sistance, Tom shot ahead of me.

He came just in time. Two of the enemy had caught up with Stuart, and were making furious cuts at him. He parried the blow of one of the Federal cavalry-men--and the other fell from the saddle, throwing up his hands as he did so. Tom Herbert had placed his pistol on his breast, and shot him through the heart.

But by this time the rest had reached us. A sabre flashed above Tom's head; fell, cutting him out of the saddle nearly; and he would have dropped from it, had I not pa.s.sed my arm around him.

In another instant, all three would have been killed or captured. But the firing had given the alarm. A thunder of hoofs was heard: a squadron of our cavalry dashed over the hill: in three minutes the enemy were flying, to escape the edge of the sabre.

Stuart led the charge, and seemed to enjoy it with the zest of a fox-hunter. He had indeed escaped from a critical danger. He had pushed on with a few of his staff, as I have said, to Fairfax Station, had then stopped and slipped his bridle to allow his horse to eat some "Yankee oats," and while standing beside the animal, had been suddenly charged by the party of Federal cavalry, coming down on a reconnaissance from the direction of the Court-House. So sudden was their appearance that he was nearly "gobbled up." He had leaped on the unbridled horse; seized the halter, and fled at full speed. The enemy had pursued him; he had declined halting--and the reader has seen the sequel.[1]

[Footnote 1: Real.]

Stuart pressed the party hotly toward Sanxter's, but they escaped--nearly capturing on the way, however, a party of officers at a blacksmith's shop. The general came back in high good humor. The chase seemed to have delighted him.

"Bully for old Tom Herbert!" he exclaimed. "You ought to have seen him when they were cutting at him, and spoiling his fine new satchel!"

Tom Herbert did not seem to partic.i.p.ate in the general's mirth. He was examining the satchel which a sabre stroke had nearly cut in two.

"What are you looking at?" asked Stuart.

"This hole, general," replied Tom, uttering a piteous sigh.

"Well, it is a trifle."

"It is a serious matter, general."

"You have lost something?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"A joint of my new flute."

And Tom Herbert's expression was so melancholy that Stuart burst into laughter.