The Tree of Appomattox Read online

  CHAPTER II

  THE WOMAN AT THE HOUSE

  The men marched on for a long time, and, after a while, they heard thehum of many voices and the restless movements that betokened thepresence of numerous troops. Dick, who had dismounted, walked forwarda little distance with Colonel Winchester, and, in the moonlight, hewas able to see that a large division of the army was gathered near,resting on its arms. It was obvious that the important movement, ofwhich he had been hearing so much, was at hand, but the colonelvolunteered nothing concerning its nature.

  The troops were allowed to lie down, and, with the calmness that comesof long experience, they soon fell asleep. But the officers waited andwatched, and Dick saw other regiments arriving. Warner, who had pushedthrough some bushes, came back and said in a whisper:

  "I've seen a half-dozen great mounds of fresh earth."

  "Earth taken out to make a trench, no doubt," said Dick.

  But Warner shook his head.

  "There's too much of it," he said, "and it's been carried too far tothe rear. In my opinion extensive mining operations have been going onhere."

  "For what?" asked Pennington. "Not for silver or gold. We're notreasure hunters, and besides, there's none here."

  Warner shook his head again.

  "I don't know," he replied, "but I'm quite sure that it has somethingto do, perhaps all to do, with the movement now at hand. To the rightof us, regiments, including several of colored troops, are alreadyforming in line of battle, and I've no doubt our turn will come beforelong."

  "We must be intending to make an attack," said Dick, "but I don'tsuppose we'll move until day."

  He had learned long since that night attacks were very risky. Friendwas likely to fire into friend and the dusk and confusion invariablyforbade victory. But the faculties that create anxiety and alarm hadbeen dulled for the time by immense exertions and dangers, and heplacidly awaited the event, whatever it might be.

  "What time is it?" asked Pennington.

  "Half past three in the morning," replied Dick, who was able to see theface of his watch.

  "Not such a long wait then. Day comes early this time of the year."

  "You lads can sit down and make yourselves comfortable," said ColonelWinchester. "It's desirable for you to be as fresh as possible whenyou're wanted. I'm glad to see the men sleeping. They'll receive asignal in ample time."

  The young officers followed his suggestion, but they kept very wideawake, talking for a little while in whispers and then sinking awayinto silence. The noise from the massed troops near them decreasedalso and Dick's curiosity began to grow again. He stood up, but he sawno movement, nothing to indicate the nature of any coming event. Helooked at his watch again. Dawn was almost at hand. A narrow band ofgray would soon rim the eastern hills. An aide arrived, gave adispatch to Colonel Winchester, and quickly passed on.

  The men were awakened and stood up, shaking the sleep from their eyesand then, through habit, looking to their arms and ammunition. Thethread of gray showed in the east.

  "Whatever it is, it will come soon," whispered Warner to Dick.

  The gray thread broadened and became a ribbon of silver. The silver,as it widened, was shot through with pink and red and yellow, thecolors of the morning. Dick caught a glimpse of massed bayonets nearhim, and of the Southern trenches rising slowly out of the dusk not faraway. Then the earth rocked.

  He felt a sudden violent and convulsive movement that nearly threw himfrom his feet, and the whole world in front of him blazed with fire, asif a volcano, after a long silence, had burst suddenly into furiousactivity. Black objects, the bodies of men, were borne upon the massof shooting flames, and the roar was so tremendous that it was heardthirty miles away.

  Dick had been expecting something, but no such red dawn as this, andwhen the fires suddenly sank, and the world-shaking crash turned toechoes he stood for a few moments appalled. He believed at first thata magazine had exploded, but, as the dawn was rapidly advancing, hebeheld in front of them, where Southern breastworks had stood, a vastpit two or three hundred feet long and more than thirty feet deep. Atthe bottom of it, although they could not be seen through the smoke,lay the fragments of Confederate cannon and Confederate soldiers whohad been blown to pieces.

  "A mine breaking the rebel line!" cried Warner, "and our men are tocharge through it!"

  Trumpets were already sounding their thrilling call, and blue masses,before the smoke had lifted, were rushing into the pit, intending toclimb the far side and sever the Southern line. But Colonel Winchesterdid not yet give the word to his own regiment, and Dick knew that theywere to be held in reserve.

  Into the great chasm went white troops and black troops, chargingtogether, and then Dick suddenly cried in horror. Those were veteranson the other side, and, recovering quickly from the surprise, theyrushed forward their batteries and riflemen. Mahone, a little, alertman, commanded them, and in an instant they deluged the pit, afterwardfamous under the name of "The Crater," with fire. The steep slope heldback the Union troops and from the edges everywhere the men in graypoured a storm of shrapnel and canister and bullets into the packedmasses.

  Colonel Winchester groaned aloud, and looked at his men who were eagerto advance to the rescue, but it was evident to Dick that his ordersheld him, and they stood in silence gazing at the appalling scene inthe crater. A tunnel had been run directly under the Confederates, andthen a huge mine had been exploded. All that part was successful, butthe Union army had made a deep pit, more formidable than the earthworkitself.

  Never had men created a more terrible trap for themselves. The name,the crater, was well deserved. It was a seething pit of death filledwith smoke, and from which came shouts and cries as the rim of itblazed with the fire of those who were pouring in such a stream ofmetal. Inside the pit the men could only cower low in the hope that thehurricane of missiles would pass over their heads.

  "Good God!" cried Dick. "Why don't we advance to help them!"

  "Here we go now, and we may need help ourselves!" said Warner.

  Again the trumpets were sending forth their shrill call to battle anddeath, and, as the colonel waved his sword, the regiment chargedforward with others to rescue the men in the crater. A bright sun wasshining now, and the Southern leaders saw the heavy, advancing column.They were rapidly bringing up more guns and more riflemen, and,shifting a part of their fire, a storm of death blew in the faces ofthose who would go to the rescue.

  As at Cold Harbor, the men in blue could not live before such a fire atclose quarters, and the regiments were compelled to recoil, while thosewho were left alive in the crater surrendered. The trumpets soundedthe unwilling call to withdraw, and the Winchester men, many of themshedding tears of grief and rage, fell back to their old place, whilefrom some distant point, rising above the dying fire of the cannon andrifles, came the long, fierce rebel yell, full of defiance and triumph.

  The effect upon Dick of the sight in the crater was so overwhelmingthat he was compelled to lie down.

  "Why do we do such things?" he exclaimed, after the faintness passed."Why do we waste so many lives in such vain efforts?"

  "We have to try," replied Warner, gloomily. "The thing was all rightas far as it went, but it broke against a hedge of fire and steel,crowning a barrier that we had created for ourselves."

  "Let's not talk about it," said Pennington, who had been faint too."It's enough to have seen it. I am going to blot it out of my mind ifI can."

  But not one of the three was ever able wholly to forget that hideousdawn. Luckily the Winchesters themselves had suffered little, but theywere quite content to remain in their old place by the brook, where thenext day a large man in civilian dress introduced himself to Dick.

  "Perhaps you don't remember me, Mr. Mason," he said, "but in such timesas these it's easy to forget chance acquaintances."

  Dick looked at him closely. He was elderly, with heavy pouches underhis eyes and a rotund figure, but he looked unc
ommonly alert and hispale blue eyes had a penetrating quality. Then Dick recalled him.

  "You're Mr. Watson, the contractor," he said.

  "Right. Shake hands."

  Dick shook his hand, and he noticed that, while it was fat, it wasstrong and dry. He hated damp hands, which always seemed to him tohave a slimy touch, as if their owner were reptilian.

  "I suppose business is good with you, Mr. Watson," he said.

  "It couldn't be better, and such affairs as the one I witnessed thismorning mean more. But doubtless I have grieved over it as much asyou. I may profit by the great struggle, but I have not wished eitherthe war or its continuance. Someone must do the work I am doing.You're a bright boy, Lieutenant Mason, and I want you still to bear inmind the hint that I gave you once in Washington."

  "I don't recall it, this instant."

  "That to go into business with me is a better trade than fighting."

  "I thank you for the offer, but my mind turns in other directions. I'mnot depreciating your occupation, Mr. Watson, but I'm interested insomething else."

  "I knew that you were not, Lieutenant Mason. You have too much sense.Your kind could not fight if my kind did not find the sinews, and afterthe war the woods will be full of generals, and colonels and majors whowill be glad to get jobs from men like me."

  "I've no doubt of it," said Dick, "but what happened this morning mademe think the war is yet far from over."

  "We shall see what we shall see, but if you ever want a friend write tome in Washington. General delivery, there will do. Good-by."

  "Good-by," said Dick, and, as he watched the big man walk away, he feltthat he was beginning to understand him. He had never been interestedgreatly in mercantile pursuits. Public and literary life and the soilwere the great things to him. Now he realized that the vast strengthof the North, a strength that could survive any number of defeats, laylargely in her trade and commerce. The South, almost stationary uponthe soil, had fallen behind, and no amount of skill and courage couldsave her.

  Colonel Winchester gave the young officers who had been awake all nightpermission to sleep, and Dick was glad to avail himself of it. Hestill felt weak, and ill, and, with a tender smile, remembering hismother's advice about the blanket, he spread one in the shade of asmall oak and lay down upon it.

  Despite the terrible repulse of the morning most of the men hadregained their usual spirits. Several were playing accordions, and theothers were listening. The Winchesters were known as a happy regiment,because they had an able colonel, strong but firm, efficient andtactful minor officers. They seldom got into mischief, and always theypooled their resources.

  One lad was reading now to a group from a tattered copy of "LesMiserables," which had just reached them. He was deep in Waterloo andDick heard their comments.

  "You wait till the big writers begin to tell about Chickamauga andGettysburg and Shiloh," said one. "They'll class with Waterloo orahead of it, and the French and English never fought any such campaignas that when Grant came down through the Wilderness. What's that aboutthe French riding into the sunken road? I'm willin' to bet it wasnothing but a skirmish beside Pickett's charge at Gettysburg."

  "And both failed," said Warner. "There are always brave men on everyside in any war. I don't know whether Napoleon was right or wrong--Isuppose he was wrong at that time--but it always makes me feel sad toread of Waterloo."

  "Just as a lot of our own people were grieved at the death of StonewallJackson, although next to Lee he was our most dangerous foe," saidPennington.

  The reader resumed, and, although he was interrupted from time to timeby question or comment, his monotone was pleasant and soothing, andDick fell asleep. When he awoke his nerves were restored, and he couldthink of the crater without becoming faint again.

  That night Colonel Hertford of the cavalry came to their camp andtalked with Colonel Winchester in the presence of Dick and his comradesof the staff. The disastrous failure of the morning, so the cavalrymansaid, had convinced all the generals that Lee's trenches could not beforced, and the commander-in-chief was turning his eye elsewhere.While the deadlock before Petersburg lasted he would push theoperations in some other field. He was watching especially the Valleyof Virginia, where Early, after his daring raid upon the outskirts ofWashington, was being pursued by Sheridan, though not hard enough inthe opinion of General Grant.

  "It's almost decided that help will be sent to Sheridan," saidHertford, "and in that event my regiment is sure to go. Yours hasserved as a mounted regiment, and I think I have influence enough tosee that it is sent again as cavalry, if you wish."

  Colonel Winchester accepted the offer gladly, and his young officers,in all eagerness, seconded him. They were tiring of inactivity, and ofthe cramped and painful life in the trenches. To be on horsebackagain, riding over hills and across valleys, seemed almost Heaven tothem, and, as Colonel Hertford walked away, earnest injunctions to usehis influence to the utmost followed him.

  "It will take the sight of the crater from my mind," said Warner."That's one reason why I want to go."

  Dick, searching his own mind, concluded it was the chief reason withhim, although he, too, was eager enough for a more spacious life thanthat of the trench.

  "I'm going to wish so hard for it," said Pennington, "that it'll cometrue."

  Whether Pennington's wish had any effect or not, they departed two dayslater, three mounted regiments under the general command of Hertford,his right as a veteran cavalry leader. All regiments, despite new men,had been reduced greatly by the years of fighting, and the threecombined did not number more than fifteen hundred horse. But there wasnot one among them from the oldest to the youngest who did not feelelation as they rode away on the great curve that would take them intothe Valley of Virginia.

  "It's glorious to be on a horse again, with the world before you," saidPennington. "I was born horseback, so to speak, and I never had to doany walking until I came to this war. The great plains and the freewinds that blow all around the earth for me."

  "But you don't have rivers and hills and forests like ours," said Dick.

  "I know it, but I don't miss them. I suppose it's what you're used tothat you like. I like a horizon that doesn't touch the ground anywherewithin fifteen or eighteen miles of me. And think of seeing a buffaloherd, as I have, that's all day passing you, a million of 'em, maybe!"

  "And think of being scalped by the Sioux or Cheyennes, as your peopleout there often are," said Warner.

  Pennington took off his cap and disclosed an uncommonly thick head ofhair.

  "You see that I haven't lost mine yet," he said. "If a fellow can livethrough big battles as I've lived through 'em he can escape Sioux andCheyennes."

  "So you should. Look back now, and you can see the armies face toface."

  They were on the highest hill, and all the cavalry had turned for alast glance. Dick saw again the flashes from occasional rifle fire,and a dark column of smoke still rising from a spot which he knew to bethe crater. He shuddered, and was glad when the force, riding onagain, passed over the hill. Before them now stretched a desolatedcountry, trodden under foot by the armies, and his heart bled again forVirginia, the most reluctant of all the states to secede, and thegreatest of them all to suffer.

  Colonel Hertford, Colonel Winchester, and the colonel of the thirdregiment, a Pennsylvanian named Bedford, rode together and their youngofficers were just behind. All examined the country continuallythrough glasses to guard against ambush. Stuart was gone and Forrestwas far away, but they knew that danger from the fierce riders of theSouth was always present. Just when the capital seemed safest Early'smen had appeared in its very suburbs, and here in Virginia, where thehand of every man and of every woman and child also was against them,it was wise to watch well.

  As they rode on the country was still marked by desolation. The fieldswere swept bare or trampled down. Many of the houses and barns and allthe fences had been burned. The roads had been torn up b
y the passageof artillery and countless wagons. All the people seemed to have goneaway.

  But when they came into rougher and more wooded regions they were shotat often by concealed marksmen. A half-dozen troopers were killed andmore wounded, and, when the cavalrymen forced a path through the brushin pursuit of the hidden sharpshooters, they found nothing. The enemyfairly melted away. It was easy enough for a rifleman, knowing everygully and thicket, to send in his deadly bullet and then escape.

  "Although it's merely the buzzing and stinging of wasps," said Warner,"I don't like it. They can't stop our advance, but I hate to see anygood fellow of ours tumbled from his horse."

  "Makes one think of that other ride we took in Mississippi," said Dick.

  "In one way, yes, but in others, no. This is hard, firm ground, andwe're not persecuted by mosquitoes. Nor is the country suitable for anambush by a great force. Ouch, that burnt!"

  A bullet fired from a thicket had grazed Warner's bridle hand. Dickwas compelled to laugh.

  "You're free from mosquitoes, George," he said, "but there are stilllittle bullets flying about, as you see."

  A dozen cavalrymen were sent into the thicket, but the sharpshooter wasalready far away. Colonel Hertford frowned and said:

  "Well, I suppose it's the price we have to pay, but I'd like to see thepeople to whom we have to pay it."

  "Not much chance of that," said Colonel Winchester. "The Virginiansknow their own ground and the lurking sharpshooters won't fire untilthey're sure of a safe retreat."

  But as they advanced the stinging fire became worse. There was noSouthern force in this part of the country strong enough to meet themin open combat, but there was forest and thicket sufficient to sheltermany men who were not only willing to shoot, but who knew how to shootwell. Yet they never caught anybody nor even saw anybody. A strayglimpse or two of a puff of smoke was the nearest they ever came tobeholding an enemy.

  It became galling, intolerable. Three more men were killed and thenumber of wounded was doubled. The three colonels held a consultation,and decided to extend groups of skirmishers far out on either flank.Dick was chosen to lead a band of thirty picked men who rode about amile on the right, and he had with him as his second, and, in reality,as his guide and mentor in many ways, the trusty Sergeant Whitley. Itwas altogether likely that Colonel Winchester would not have sent Dickunless he had been able to send the wise sergeant with him.

  "While you are guarding us from ambush," he said to Dick, "be sure youdon't fall into an ambush yourself."

  "Not while Whitley, here, is with us," replied Dick. "He learned whileout on the plains, not only to have eyes in the back of his head, butto have 'em in the sides of it as well. In addition he can hear thefall of a leaf a mile away."

  The sergeant shook his head and uttered an emphatic no in protest, butin his heart he was pleased. He was a sergeant who liked being asergeant, and he was proud of all his wilderness and prairie lore.

  Dick gave the word and the little troop galloped away to the right,zealous in its task and beating up every wood and thicket for thehidden riflemen who were so dangerous. At intervals they saw thecavalry force riding steadily on, and again they were hidden from it byforest or bush. More than an hour passed and they saw no foe. Dickconcluded that the sharpshooters had been scared off by the flankingforce, and that they would have no further trouble with them. Hisspirits rose accordingly and there was much otherwise to make them rise.

  It was like Heaven to be on horseback in the pleasant country afterbeing cramped up so much in narrow trenches, and there was the thrillof coming action. They were going to join Sheridan and where he rodeidle moments would be few.

  "Ping!" a bullet whistled alarmingly near his head and then cut leavesfrom a sapling beyond him. The young lieutenant halted the troopinstantly, and Sergeant Whitley pointed to a house just visible amongsome trees.

  "That's where it came from, and, since it hasn't been followed by asecond, it's likely that only one man is there, and he is lying low,waiting a chance for another bullet," he said.

  "Then we'll rout him out," said Dick.

  He divided his little troop, in order that it could approach the housefrom all sides, and then he and the sergeant and six others advanceddirectly in front. He knew that if the marksman were still hiddeninside he would not fire now, but would seek rather to hide, since hecould easily observe from a window that the building was surrounded.

  It was a small house, but it was well built and evidently had beenoccupied by people of substance. It was painted white, except theshutters which were green, and a brick walk led to a portico, with fineand lofty columns. There was nobody outside, but as the shutters wereopen it was probable that someone was inside.

  Dick disliked to force an entrance at such a place, but he had beensent out to protect the flank and he could not let a rifleman liehidden there, merely to resume his deadly business as soon as theypassed on. They pushed the gate open and rode upon the lawn, an act ofvandalism that he regretted, but could not help. They reached the doorwithout any apparent notice being taken of them, and as the detachmentswere approaching from the other sides, Dick dismounted and knockedloudly. Receiving no answer, he bade all the others dismount.

  "Curley, you hold the horses," he said, "and Dixon, you tell the men inthe other detachments to seize anybody trying to escape. Sergeant, youand I and the others will enter the house. Break in the lock with thebutt of your rifle, sergeant! No, I see it's not locked!"

  He turned the bolt, and, the door swinging in, they passed into anempty hall. Here they paused and listened, which was a wise thing fora man to do when he entered the house of an enemy. Dick's sense ofhearing was not much inferior to that of the sergeant, and while atfirst they heard nothing, they detected presently a faint click, click.He could not imagine what made the odd sound, and, listening as hard ashe could, he could detect no other with it.

  He pushed open a door that led into the hall and he and his men entereda large room with windows on the side, opening upon a rose garden. Itwas a pleasant room with a high ceiling, and old-fashioned, dignifiedfurniture. A blaze of sunlight poured in from the windows, and, wherea sash was raised, came the faint, thrilling perfume of roses, aperfume to which Dick was peculiarly susceptible. Yet, for yearsafterward, the odor of roses brought back to him that house and thatroom.

  He thought at first that the room, although the faint clicking noisecontinued, contained no human being. But presently he saw sitting at atable by the open window a woman whose gray dress and gray hair blendedso nearly with the gray colors of the chamber that even a soldier couldhave been excused for not seeing her at once. Her head and body wereperfectly still, but her hands were moving rapidly. She was knitting,and it was the click of her needles that they had heard.

  She did not look up as Dick entered, and, taking off his cap, he stood,somewhat abashed. He knew at once by her dress and face, and thedignity, disclosed even by the manner in which she sat, that she was agreat lady, one of those great ladies of old Virginia who were greatladies in fact. She was rather small, Martha Washington might havelooked much like her, and she knitted steadily on, without showing bythe least sign that she was aware of the presence of Union soldiers.

  A long and embarrassed silence followed. Dick judged that she wasabout sixty-five years of age, though she seemed strong and he feltthat she was watching them alertly from covert eyes. There was noindication that anyone else was in the building, but it did not seemlikely that a great lady of Virginia would be left alone in her house,with a Union force marching by.

  He approached, bowed and said:

  "Madame!"

  She raised her head and looked at him slowly from head to foot, andthen back again. They were fierce old eyes, and Dick felt as if theyburned him, but he held his ground knowing that he must. Then sheturned back to her knitting, and the needles clicked steadily as before.

  "Madame!" repeated Dick, still embarrassed.

  She li
fted the fierce old eyes.

  "I should think," she said, "that the business of General Grant'ssoldiers was to fight those of General Lee rather than to annoy lonewomen."

  Dick flushed, but angry blood leaped in his veins.

  "Pardon me, madame," he said, "but we have not come here to annoy awoman. We were fired upon from this house. The man who did it has hadno opportunity to escape, and I'm sure that he's still concealed withinthese walls."

  "Seek and ye shall--not find," she half quoted.

  "I must search the house."

  "Proceed."

  "First question her," the sergeant whispered in the young lieutenant'sear.

  Dick nodded.

  "Pardon me, madame," he said, "but I must obtain information from you.This is war, you know."

  "I have had many rude reminders that it is so."

  "Where is your husband?"

  She pointed upward.

  "Forgive me," said Dick impulsively. "I did not intend to recall agrief."

  "Don't worry. You and your comrades will never intrude upon him there."

  "Perhaps you have sons here in this house?"

  "I have three, but they are not here."

  "Where are they?"

  "One fell with Jackson at Chancellorsville. It was a glorious death,but he is not dead to me. I shall always see him, as he was when hewent away, a tall, strong man with brown hair and blue eyes. Anotherfell in Pickett's charge at Gettysburg. They told me that his body layacross one of the Union guns on Cemetery Hill. That, too, was aglorious death, and like his brother he shall live for me as long as Ilive. The third is alive and with Lee."

  She had stopped knitting, but now she resumed it, and, during anotherembarrassed pause, the click, click of the needles was the only soundheard in the room.

  "I regret it, madame," resumed Dick, "but we must search the housethoroughly."

  "Proceed," she said again in that tone of finality.

  "Take the men and look carefully through every room," said Dick to thesergeant. "I will remain here."

  Whitley and the troopers withdrew quietly. When the last of them haddisappeared he walked to one of the windows and looked out. He saw hismounted men beyond the rose garden on guard, and he knew that they wereas vigilant on the other sides of the house. The sharpshooter couldnot escape, and he was firmly resolved not to go without him. Yet hisconscience hurt him. It was hard, too, to wait there, while the womansaid not a word, but knitted on as placidly as if he did not exist.

  "Madame," he said at last, "I pray that you do not regard this as anintrusion. The uses of war are hard. We must search. No one canregret it more than I do, in particular since I am really a Southernermyself, a Kentuckian."

  "A traitor then as well as an enemy."

  Dick flushed deeply, and again there was angry blood in his veins, buthe restrained his temper.

  "You must at least allow to a man the liberty of choice," he said.

  "Provided he has the intelligence and honesty to choose right."

  Dick flushed again and bit his lip. And yet he felt that a woman whohad lost two sons before Northern bullets might well be unforgiving.There was nothing more for him to say, and while he turned back to thewindow the knitting needles resumed their click, click.

  He waited a full ten minutes and he knew that the sergeant and his menwere searching the house thoroughly. Nothing could escape the noticeof Whitley, and he would surely find the sharpshooter. Then he heardtheir footsteps on a stairway and in another minute they entered thegreat room. The face of the sergeant clearly showed disappointment.

  "There's nobody in the house," he said, "or, if he is he's so cleverlyhidden, that we haven't been able to find him--that is so far. PerhapsMadame here can tell us something."

  "I know nothing," she said, "but if I knew anything I would not tell itto you."

  The sergeant smiled sourly, but Dick said:

  "We must look again. The man could not have escaped with the guardthat we've set around the house."

  The sergeant and his men made another search. They penetrated everyplace in which a human being could possibly hide. They thrust theirrifle barrels up the chimneys, and they turned down the bed covers, butagain they found nothing. Dick meanwhile remained as before in thelarge room, covertly watching the woman, lest she give a signal to therifleman who must be somewhere.

  All the while the perfume of the roses was growing stronger and morepenetrating, a light wind that had sprung up bringing it through theopen window. It thrilled Dick in some singular manner, and thestrangeness of the scene heightened its effect. It was like standingin a room in a dim old castle to which he had been brought as aprisoner, while the terrible old woman was his jailer. Then the clickof the knitting needles brought him back to the present and reality,but reality itself, despite the sunshine and the perfume of the roses,was heavy and oppressive.

  Dick apparently was looking from the window at the garden, brilliantwith flowers, but in fact he was closely watching the woman out of thecorner of his eye. He had learned to read people by their own eyes,and he had seen how hers burned when she looked at them. Strength ofwill and intent lie in the human eye. Unless it is purposely veiled ittells the mind and power that are in the brain back of it.

  A fear of her crept slowly over him. Perhaps the fear came because,obviously, she had no fear at all of him, or of Whitley or of thesoldiers. After their short dialogue she had returned to her oldimmobility. Neither her body nor her head moved, only her hands, andthe motion was wholly from the wrists. She was one of the three Fates,knitting steadily and knitting up the destiny of men.

  He shook himself. His was a sound and healthy mind, and he would allowno taint of morbidness to enter it. He knew that there was nothingsupernatural in the world, but he did believe that this woman with thegray hair, the burning eyes and the sharp chin, looking as if it hadbeen cut from a piece of steel, was the possessor of uncanny wisdom.Beyond a doubt she knew where the marksman was hidden, and, unless hewatched her ceaselessly, she would give him a signal of some kind.

  Perhaps he was hidden in the garden among the rose bushes, and he wouldsee her hand, if it was raised ever so slightly. Maybe that was whythe window was open, because the clearest glass even could obscure asignal meant to be faint, unnoticed by all except the one for whom itwas intended. He would have that garden searched thoroughly when thesergeant returned, and his heart beat with a throb of relief when heheard the stalwart Whitley's footstep once more at the door.

  "We have found nothing, sir," said the sergeant. "We've explored everyplace big enough to hide a cat."

  "Search the garden out there," said Dick. "Look behind every vine andbush."

  "You will at least spare my roses," said the woman.

  "They shall not be harmed," replied the lieutenant, "but my men mustsee what, if anything, is in the garden."

  She said no more. She had not even raised her head when she spoke, andthe sergeant and his men went into the garden. They looked everywherebut they damaged nothing. They did not even break off a single flowerfor themselves. Dick had felt confident that after the failure to findthe sharpshooter in the house he would be discovered there, but his netbrought in no fish.

  He glanced at the sergeant, who happened to glance at him at the sametime. Each read the look in the eyes of the other. Each said thatthey had failed, that they were wasting time, that there was nothing tobe gained by hunting longer for a single enemy, that it was time toride on, as flankers on the right of the main column.

  "Madame," said Dick politely, "we leave you now. I repeat my regret atbeing compelled to search your house in this manner. My duty requiredit, although we have found nobody."

  "You found nobody because nobody is here."

  "Evidently it is so. Good-by. We wish you well."

  "Good-by. I hope that all of you will be shot by our brave troopsbefore night!"

  The wish was uttered with the most extraordinary energy and f
ierceness.For the first time she had raised her level tone, and the lifted eyesthat looked into Dick's were blazing with hate. He uttered anexclamation and stepped back. Then he recovered himself and saidpolitely:

  "Madame, I do not wish any such ill to you or yours."

  But she had resumed her knitting, and Dick, without another word,walked out of the house, followed by the sergeant and his men.

  "I did not know a woman could be so vindictive," he said.

  "Our army has killed two of her sons," said the sergeant. "To her we,like all the rest of our troops, are the men who killed them."

  "Perhaps that is so," said Dick thoughtfully, as he remounted.

  They rode beside the walk and out at the open gate. Dick carried asilver whistle, upon which he blew a signal for the rest of his men tojoin them, and then he and the sergeant went slowly up the road. Hewas deeply chagrined at the escape of the rifleman, and the curse ofthe woman lay heavily upon him.

  "I don't see how it was done," he said.

  "Nor I," said the sergeant, shaking his head.

  There was a sharp report, the undoubted whip-like crack of a rifle, anda man just behind, uttering a cry, held up a bleeding arm. Dick had alightning conviction that the bullet was intended for himself. It wascertain also that the shot had come from the house.

  "Back with me, sergeant!" he exclaimed. "We'll get that fellow yet!"

  They galloped back, sprang from their horses, and rushed in, followedby the original little troop that had entered, Dick shouting adirection to the others to remain outside. The fierce little old womanwas sitting as before by the table, knitting, and she had neverappeared more the great lady.

  "Once was enough," she said, shooting him a glance of bitter contempt.

  "But twice may succeed," Dick said. "Sergeant, take the men and gothrough all the house again. Our friend with the rifle may not havehad time to get back into his hidden lair. I will remain here."

  The sergeant and his men went out and he heard their boots on thestairway and in the other rooms. The window near him was still openand the perfume of the roses came in again, strangely thrilling,overpowering. But something had awakened in Dick. The sixth, and eventhe germ of a seventh sense, which may have been instinct, were up andalive. He did not look again at the rose garden, nor did he listen anylonger to the footsteps of his men.

  He had concentrated all his faculties, the known, and the unknown,which may have been lying dormant in him, upon a single object. Heheard only the click of the knitting needles, and he saw only thesmall, strong hands moving swiftly back and forth. They were verywhite, and they were firm like those of a young woman. There were noneof the heavy blue veins across the back that betoken age.

  The hands fascinated him. He stared at them, fairly pouring his gazeupon them. They were beautiful, as the hands of a great lady should bekept, and it was all the more wonderful then that the right should haveacross the back of it a faint gray smudge, so tiny that only an eyelike his, and a concentrated gaze like his, could have seen it.

  He took four swift steps forward, seized the white hand in his and heldit up.

  "Madame," he said, and now his tone was as fierce as hers had everbeen, "where is the rifle?"

  She made no attempt to release her hand, nor did she move at all, saveto lift her head. Then her eyes, hard, defiant and ruthless, lookedinto his. But his look did not flinch from hers. He knew, and,knowing, he meant to act.

  "Madame," he repeated, "where is the rifle? It is useless for you todeny."

  "Have I denied?"

  "No, but where is the rifle?"

  He was wholly unconscious of it, but his surprise and excitement wereso great that his hand closed upon hers in a strong muscularcontraction. Thrills of pain shot through her body, but she did notmove.

  "The rifle! The rifle!" repeated Dick.

  "Loose my hand, and I will give it to you."

  His hand fell away and she walked to the end of the room where a rug,too long, lay in a fold against the wall. She turned back the fold andtook from its hiding place a slender-barreled cap-and-ball rifle.Without a word she handed it to Dick and he passed his hand over themuzzle, which was still warm.

  He looked at her, but she gave back his gaze unflinching.

  "I could not believe it, were it not so," he said.

  "But it is so. The bullets were not aimed well enough." Dick felt anemotion that he did not wholly understand.

  "Madame," he said, "I shall take the rifle, and again say good-by. Asbefore, I wish you well."

  She resumed her seat in the chair and took up the knitting. But shedid not repeat her wish that Dick and all his men be shot before night.He went out in silence, and gently closed the door behind him. In thehall he met Sergeant Whitley and said:

  "We needn't look any farther. I know now that the man has gone and weshall not be fired upon again from this house."

  The sergeant glanced at the rifle Dick carried and made no comment. Butwhen they were riding away, he said:

  "And so that was it?"

  "Yes, that was it."