d.i.c.k concluded that it was useless to ask any more questions just yet, and he, Warner and the sergeant, dismounting and leading their horses, walked toward the house with Jarvis and Ike. Jarvis, who seemed singularly cheerful, lifted up his voice and sang: Thou wilt come no more, gentle Annie, Like a flower, thy spirit did depart, Thou art gone, alas! like the many That have bloomed in the summer of my heart.

Shall we never more behold thee?

Never hear thy winning voice again?

When the spring time comes, gentle Annie?

When the wild flowers are scattered o'er the plain?

It seemed to d.i.c.k that the man sang spontaneously, and the deep, mellow voice always came back in faint and dying echoes that moved him in a singular manner. All at once the war with its pa.s.sions and carnage floated away. Here was a little valley fenced in from the battle-world in which he had been living. He breathed deeply and as the eyes of Jarvis caught his a sympathetic glance pa.s.sed between them.

"Yes," said Jarvis, as if he understood completely, "the war goes around us. There is nothing to fight about here. But come into the house. This is my sister, the mother of that lunkhead, Ike, and here is my grandmother."

He paused before the bent figure of an old, old woman, sitting in a rocking chair beside the chimney, beside which a fire glowed and blazed. Her chin rested on one hand, and she was staring into the coals.

"Grandmother," said Jarvis very gently, "the great-grandson of the great Henry Ware that you used to know was here last spring, and now the great-grandson of his friend, Paul Cotter, has come, too."

The withered form straightened and she stood up. Fire came into the old, old eyes that regarded d.i.c.k so intently.

"Aye," she said, "you speak the truth, grandson. It is Paul Cotter's own face. A gentle man he was, but brave, and the greatest scholar. I should have known that when Henry Ware's great-grandson came Paul Cotter's, too, would come soon. I am proud for this house to have sheltered you both."

She put both her hands on his shoulders, and stood up very straight, her face close to his. She was a tall woman, above the average height of man, and her eyes were on a level with d.i.c.k's.

"It is true," she said, "it is he over again. The eyes are his, and the mouth and the nose are the same. This house is yours while you choose to remain, and my grandchildren and my great-grandson will do for you whatever you wish."

d.i.c.k noticed that her grammar and intonation were perfect. Many of the Virginians and Marylanders who emigrated to Kentucky in that far-off border time were people of cultivation and refinement.

After these words of welcome she turned from him, sat down in her chair and gazed steadily into the coals. Everything about her seemed to float away. Doubtless her thoughts ran on those dim early days, when the Indians lurked in the canebrake and only the great borderers stood between the settlers and sure death.

d.i.c.k began to gather from the old woman's words a dim idea of what had occurred. Harry Kenton must have pa.s.sed there, and as they went into the next room where food and coffee were placed before them, Jarvis explained.

"Your cousin, Harry Kenton, came through here last spring on his way to Virginia," he said. "He came with me an' this lunkhead, Ike, all the way from Frankfort and mostly up the Kentucky River. Grandmother was dreaming and she took him at first for Henry Ware, his very self. She saluted him and called him the great governor. It was a wonderful thing to see, and it made me feel just a little bit creepy for a second or two. Mebbe you an' your cousin, Harry Kenton, are Henry Ware an' Paul Cotter, their very selves come back to earth. It looks curious that both of you should wander to this little place hid deep in the mountains. But it's happened all the same. I s'pose you've just been moved 'round that way by the Supreme Power that's bigger than all of us, an' that shifts us about to suit plans made long ago. But how I'm runnin' on! Fall to, friends-I can't call you strangers, an' eat an' drink. The winter air on the mountains is powerful nippin' an' your blood needs warmin' often."

The boys and the sergeant obeyed him literally and with energy. Jarvis sat by approvingly, taking an occasional bite or drink with them. Meanwhile they gathered valuable information from him. A Northern commander named Garfield had defeated the Southern forces under Humphrey Marshall in a smart little battle at a place called Middle Creek. d.i.c.k knew this Humphrey Marshall well. He lived at Louisville and was a great friend of his uncle, Colonel Kenton. He had been a brilliant and daring cavalry officer in the Mexican War, doing great deeds at Buena Vista, but now he was elderly and so enormously stout that he lacked efficiency.

Jarvis added that after their defeat at Middle Creek the Southerners had gathered their forces on or near the c.u.mberland River about Mill Spring and that they had ten thousand men. Thomas with a strong Northern force, coming all the way from the central part of the state, was already deep in the mountains, preparing to meet him.

"Remember," said Jarvis, "that I ain't takin' no sides in this war myself. If people come along an' ask me to tell what I know I tell it to 'em, be they Yank or Reb. Now, I wish good luck to you, Mr. Mason, an' I wish the same to your cousin, Mr. Kenton."

d.i.c.k, Warner and the sergeant finished the refreshments and rose for the return journey. They thanked Jarvis, and when they saw that he would take no pay, they did not insist, knowing that it would offend him. d.i.c.k said good-bye to the ancient woman and once again she rose, put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes.

"Paul Cotter was a good man," she said, "and you who have his blood in your veins are good, too. I can see it in something that lies back in your eyes."

She said not another word, but sat down in the chair and stared once more into the coals, dreaming of the far day when the great borderers saved her and others like her from the savages, and thinking little of the mighty war that raged at the base of her hills.

The boys and the sergeant rode fast on the return trail. They knew that Major Hertford would push forward at all speed to join Thomas, whom they could now locate without much difficulty. Jarvis and Ike had resumed their fence-mending, but when the trees hid the valley from them a mighty, rolling song came to the ears of d.i.c.k, Warner and the sergeant: They bore him away when the day had fled, And the storm was rolling high, And they laid him down in his lonely bed By the light of an angry sky.

The lightning flashed, and the wild sea lashed The sh.o.r.e with its foaming wave, And the thunder pa.s.sed on the rushing blast As it howled o'er the rover's grave.

"That man's no fool," said d.i.c.k.

"No, he ain't," said the sergeant, with decision, "nor is that nephew Ike of his that he calls a lunkhead. Did you notice, Mr. Mason, that the boy never spoke a word while we was there? Them that don't say anything never have anything to take back."

They rode hard now, and soon reached Major Hertford with their news. On the third day thereafter they entered a strong Union camp, commanded by a man named Garfield, the young officer who had won the victory at Middle Creek.

CHAPTER VI. MILL SPRING

Garfield's camp was on a little group of hills in a very strong position, and his men, flushed with victory, were eager for another encounter with the enemy. They had plenty of good tents to fend them from the winter weather which had often been bitter. Throughout the camp burned large fires for which they had an almost unbroken wilderness to furnish fuel. The whole aspect of the place was pleasing to the men who had marched far and hard.

Major Hertford and his aides, Richard Mason and George Warner, were received in Colonel Garfield's tent. A slim young man, writing dispatches at a rude little pine table, rose to receive them. He did not seem to d.i.c.k to be more than thirty, and he had the thin, scholarly face of a student. His manner was attractive, he shook hands warmly with all three of them and said: "Reinforcements are most welcome indeed. My own work here seems to be largely done, but you will reach General Thomas in another day, and he needs you. Take my chair, Major Hertford. To you two lads I can offer only stumps."

The tent had been pitched over a spot where three stumps had been smoothed off carefully until they made acceptable seats. One end of the tent was entirely open, facing a glowing fire of oak logs. d.i.c.k and Warner sat down on the stumps and spread out their hands to the blaze. Beyond the flames they saw the wintry forest and mountains, seemingly as wild as they were when the first white man came.

The usual coffee and food were brought, and while they ate and drank Major Hertford answered the numerous and pertinent questions of Colonel Garfield. He listened attentively to the account of the fight in the mountains, and to all the news that they could tell him of Washington.

"We have been cut off in these mountains," he said. "I know very little of what is going on, but what you say only confirms my own opinion. The war is rapidly spreading over a much greater area, and I believe that its scope will far exceed any of our earlier calculations."

A grave and rather sad expression occupied for a moment the mobile face. He interested d.i.c.k greatly. He seemed to him scholar and thinker as well as soldier. He and Warner long afterward attended the inauguration of this man as President of the United States.

After a brief rest, and good wishes from Garfield, Major Hertford and his command soon reached the main camp under Thomas. Here they were received by a man very different in appearance and manner from Garfield.

General George H. Thomas, who was to receive the famous t.i.tle, "The Rock of Chickamauga," was then in middle years. Heavily built and bearded, he was chary of words. He merely nodded approval when Major Hertford told of their march.

"I will a.s.sign your troops to a brigade," he said, "and I don't think you'll have long to wait. We're expecting a battle in a few days with Crittenden and Zollicoffer."

"Not much to say," remarked d.i.c.k to Warner, as they went away.

"That's true," said Warner, thoughtfully, "but didn't you get an impression of strength from his very silence? I should say that in his make-up he is five per cent talk, twenty-five per cent patience and seventy per cent action; total, one hundred per cent."

The region in which they lay was west of the higher mountains, which they had now crossed, but it was very rough and hilly. Not far from them was a little town called Somerset, which d.i.c.k had visited once, and near by, too, was the deep and swift c.u.mberland River, with much floating ice at its edges. When the two lads lay by a campfire that night Sergeant Whitley came to them with the news of the situation, which he had picked up in his usual deft and quiet way.

"The Southern army is on the banks of the c.u.mberland," he said. "It has not been able to get its provisions by land through c.u.mberland Gap. Instead they have been brought by boats on the river. As I hear it, Crittenden and Zollicoffer are afraid that our general will advance to the river an' cut off these supplies. So they mean to attack us as soon as they can. If I may venture to say so, Mr. Mason, I'd advise that you and Lieutenant Warner get as good a rest as you can, and as soon as you can."

They ate a hearty supper and being told by Major Hertford that they would not be wanted until the next day, they rolled themselves in heavy blankets, and, pointing their feet toward a good fire, slept on the ground. The night was very cold, because it was now the middle of January, but the blankets and fire kept them warm.

d.i.c.k did not fall to sleep for some time, because he knew that he was going into battle again in a few days. He was on the soil of his native state now. He had already seen many Kentuckians in the army of Thomas and he knew that they would be numerous, too, in that of Crittenden and Zollicoffer. To some extent it would be a battle of brother against brother. He was glad that Harry Kenton was in the east. He did not wish in the height of battle to see his own cousin again on the opposite side.

But when he did fall asleep his slumber was sound and restful, and he was ready and eager the next morning, when the sergeant, Warner, and he were detached for duty in a scouting party.

"The general has asked that you be sent owing to your experience in the mountains," said Major Hertford, "and I have agreed gladly. I hope that you're as glad as I am."

"We are, sir," said the two boys together. The sergeant stood quietly by and smiled.

The detachment numbered a hundred men, all young, strong, and well mounted. They were commanded by a young captain, John Markham, in whom d.i.c.k recognized a distant relative. In those days nearly all Kentuckians were more or less akin. The kinship was sufficient for Markham to keep the two boys on either side of him with Sergeant Whitley just behind. Markham lived in Frankfort and he had marched with Thomas from the cantonments at Lebanon to their present camp.

"John," said d.i.c.k, addressing him familiarly and in right of kinship, "you've been for months in our own county. You've surely heard something from Pendleton?"

He could not disguise the anxiety in his voice, and the young captain regarded him with sympathy.

"I had news from there about a month ago, d.i.c.k," he replied. "Your mother was well then, as I have no doubt she is now. The place was not troubled by guerillas who are hanging on the fringe of the armies here in Eastern, or in Southern and Western Kentucky. The war for the present at least has pa.s.sed around Pendleton. Colonel Kenton was at Bowling Green with Albert Sidney Johnston, and his son, Harry, your cousin, is still in the East."

It was a rapid and condensed statement, but it was very satisfying to d.i.c.k who now rode on for a long time in silence. The road was as bad as a road could be. Snow and ice were mixed with the deep mud which pulled hard at the hoofs of their horses. The country was rough, sterile, and inhabited but thinly. They rode many miles without meeting a single human being. About the third hour they saw a man and a boy on a hillside several hundred yards away, but when Captain Markham and a chosen few galloped towards them they disappeared so deftly among the woods that not a trace of them could be found.

"People in this region are certainly bashful," said Captain Markham with a vexed laugh. "We meant them no harm, but they wouldn't stay to see us."

"But they don't know that," said d.i.c.k with the familiarity of kinship, even though distant. "I fancy that the people hereabouts wish both Northerners and Southerners would go away."

Two miles further on they came to a large, double cabin standing back a little distance from the road. Smoke was rising from the chimney, and Captain Markham felt sure that they could obtain information from its inmates. d.i.c.k, at his direction, beat on the door with the b.u.t.t of a small riding whip. There was no response. He beat again rapidly and heavily, and no answer coming he pushed in the door.

A fire was burning on the hearth, but the house was abandoned. Nor had the owners been gone long. Besides the fire to prove it, clothing was hanging on hooks in the wall, and there was food in the cupboard. Captain Markham sighed.

"Again they're afraid of us," he said. "I've no doubt the signal has been pa.s.sed ahead of us, and that we'll not get within speaking distance of a single native. Curious, too, because this region in the main is for the North."

"Perhaps somebody has been robbing and plundering in our name," said d.i.c.k. "Skelly and his raiders have been through these parts."

"That's so," said Markham, thoughtfully. "I'm afraid those guerillas who claim to be our allies are going to do us a great deal of harm. Well, we'll turn back into the road, if you can call this stream of icy mud a road, and go on."

Another mile and they caught the gleam of water among the wintry boughs. d.i.c.k knew that it was the c.u.mberland which was now a Southern artery, bringing stores and arms for the army of Crittenden and Zollicoffer. Even here, hundreds of miles from its mouth, it was a stream of great depth, easily navigable, and far down its current they saw faintly the smoke of two steamers.

"They bear supplies for the Southern army," said Captain Markham. "We can cut off the pa.s.sage of boats on this river and for that reason, so General Thomas concludes, the Southern army is going to attack us. What do you think of his reasoning, sergeant?"

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, for pa.s.sin' an opinion upon my general," replied Sergeant Whitley, "but I think his reasons are good. Here it is the dead of winter, with more mud in the roads than I ever saw before anywhere, but there's bound to be a battle right away. Men will fight, sir, to keep from losin' their grub."

A man rode forward from the ranks, saluted and asked leave to speak. He was a native of the next county and knew that region well. Two miles east of them and running parallel with the road over which they had come was another and much wider road, the one that they called the big road.

"Which means, I suppose, that it contains more mud than this one," said Captain Markham.

"True, sir," replied the man, "but if the rebel army is advancing it is likely to be on that road."

"That is certainly sound logic. At least we'll go there and see. Can you lead us through these woods to it?"

"I can take you straight across," replied the man whose name was Carpenter. "But on the way we'll have to ford a creek which is likely to be pretty deep at this time of the year."

"Show the way," said Captain Markham briskly.

They plunged into the deep woods, and Carpenter guided them well. The creek, of which he had told, was running bankful of icy water, but their horses swam it and they kept straight ahead until Carpenter, who was a little in advance, held up a warning hand.

Captain Markham ordered his whole troop to stop and keep as quiet as possible. Then he, d.i.c.k, Warner, Sergeant Whitley and Carpenter rode slowly forward. Before they had gone many yards d.i.c.k heard the heavy clank of metal, the cracking of whips, the swearing of men, and the sound of horses' feet splashing in the mud. He knew by the amount and variety of the noises that a great force was pa.s.sing.

They advanced a little further and reined into a clump of bushes which despite their lack of leaves were dense enough to shelter them from observation. As the bushes grew on a hillock they had a downward and good look into the road, which was fairly packed with men in the gray of the Confederate army, some on horseback, but mostly afoot, their cannon, ammunition and supply wagons sinking almost to the hub in the mud. As far as d.i.c.k could see the gray columns extended.

"There must be six or seven thousand men here," he said to Captain Markham.

"Undoubtedly," replied Markham, "this is the main Confederate army advancing to attack ours, but the badness of the roads operates against the offense. We shall reach General Thomas with the word that they are coming long before they are there."

They watched the marching army for a half hour longer in order to be sure of everything, and then turning they rode as fast as they could toward Thomas, elated at their success. They swam the creek again, but at another point. Carpenter told them that the Southern army would cross it on a bridge, and Markham lamented that he could not turn and destroy this bridge, but such an attempt would have been folly.

They finally turned into the main road along which the Southern army was coming, although they were now miles ahead of it, and, covered from head to foot with the red mud of the hills, they urged on their worn horses toward the camp of Thomas.

"I haven't had much experience in fighting, but I should imagine that complete preparation had a great deal to do with success," said Captain Markham.

"I'd put it at sixty per cent," said Warner.

"I should say," added d.i.c.k, "that the road makes at least eighty per cent of our difficulty in getting back to Thomas."

In fact, the road was so bad that they were compelled after a while to ride into the woods and let their ponies rest. Here they were fired upon by Confederate skirmishers from a hill two or three hundred yards away. Their numbers were small, however, and Captain Markham's force charging them drove them off without loss.

Then they resumed their weary journey, but the rest had not fully restored the horses and they were compelled at times to walk by the side of the road, leading their mounts. Sergeant Whitley, with his age and experience, was most useful now in restraining the impatient young men. Although of but humble rank he kept them from exhausting either themselves or their horses.

"It will be long after dark before we can reach camp," said Captain Markham, sighing deeply. "Confound such roads. Why not call them mora.s.ses and have done with it!"

"No, we can't make it much before midnight," said d.i.c.k, "but, after all, that will be early enough. If I judge him right, even midnight won't catch General Thomas asleep."

"You've judged him right," said Markham. "I've been with 'Pap' Thomas some time-we call him 'Pap' because he takes such good care of us-and I think he is going to be one of the biggest generals in this war. Always silent, and sometimes slow about making up his mind he strikes like a sledge-hammer when he does strike."

"He'll certainly have the opportunity to give blow for blow," said d.i.c.k, as he remembered that marching army behind them. "How far do you think it is yet to the general's camp?"

"Not more than a half dozen miles, but it will be dark in a few minutes, and at the rate we're going it will take us two full hours more to get there."

The wintry days were short and the sun slid down the gray, cold sky, leaving forest and hills in darkness. But the little band toiled patiently on, while the night deepened and darkened, and a chill wind whistled down from the ridges. The officers were silent now, but they looked eagerly for the first glimpse of the campfires of Thomas. At last they saw the little pink dots in the darkness, and then they pushed forward with new zeal, urging their weary horses into a run.

When Captain Markham, d.i.c.k and Warner galloped into camp, ahead of the others, a thickset strong figure walked forward to meet them. They leaped from their horses and saluted.

"Well?" said General Thomas.

"The enemy is advancing upon us in full force, sir," replied Captain Markham.

"You scouted thoroughly?"

"We saw their whole army upon the road."

"When do you think they could reach us?"

"About dawn, sir."

"Very good. We shall be ready. You and your men have done well. Now, find food and rest. You will be awakened in time for the battle."

d.i.c.k walked away with his friends. Troopers took their horses and cared for them. The boy glanced back at the thickset, powerful figure, standing by one of the fires and looking gravely into the coals. More than ever the man with the strong, patient look inspired confidence in him. He was sure now that they would win on the morrow. Markham and Warner felt the same confidence.