The Tree of Appomattox Read online

  CHAPTER III

  OVER THE HILLS

  Dick and his little troop rode on through the silent country, and theywere so watchful and thorough that they protected fully the right flankof the marching column. One or two shots were fired, but the reportscame from such distant points that he knew the bullets had fallen short.

  But while he beat up the forests and fields for sharpshooters he wasvery thoughtful. He had a mind that looked far ahead, even in youth,and the incident at the house weighed upon him. He foresaw the comingtriumph of the North and of the Union, a triumph won after many greatdisasters, but he remembered what an old man at a blacksmith shop inTennessee had told him and his comrades before the Battle of StoneRiver. Whatever happened, however badly the South might be defeated,the Southern soil would still be held by Southern people, and theirbitterness would be intense for many a year to come. The victorforgives easily, the vanquished cannot forget. His imagination wasactive and vivid, often attaining truths that logic and reason do notreach, and he could understand what had happened at the house, wherethe ordinary mind would have been left wondering.

  It is likely also that the sergeant had a perception of it, though notas sharp and clear as Dick's.

  "When the war is over and the soldiers all go back, that is them that'slivin'," he said, "it won't be them that fought that'll keep thegrudge. It's the women who've lost their own that'll hate longest."

  "I think what you say is true, Whitley," said Dick, "but let's not talkabout it any more. It hurts."

  "Me too," said the sergeant. "But don't you like this country thatwe're ridin' through, Mr. Mason?"

  "Yes, it's fine, but most of it has been cropped too hard. I rememberreading somewhere that George Washington himself said, away back in thelast century, that slave labor, so careless and reckless, was ruiningthe soil of Virginia."

  "Likely that's true, sir, but it won't have much chance to keep onruinin' it. Wouldn't you say, sir, that was a Johnny on his horse upthere?"

  "I can soon tell you," said Dick, unslinging his glasses.

  On their right was a hill towering above the rest. The slopes werewooded densely, but the crest was quite bare. Upon it sat a solitaryfigure on horseback, evidently watching the marching column.

  Dick put his glasses to his eyes. The hill and the lone sentinelenlarged suddenly and came nearer. The pulses in his temples beathard. Although he could not see the watcher's face clearly, because hetoo was using glasses, he knew him instantly. He would have known thatheroic figure and the set of the shoulders and head anywhere. He feltastonishment at first, but it passed quickly. It was likely that theyshould meet again some time or other, since the field of battle hadnarrowed so much.

  Sergeant Whitley, who invariably saw everything, had seen Dick's slightstart.

  "Someone you know, sir?" he asked.

  "Yes, sergeant. It's my cousin, Harry Kenton. You've heard me talk ofhim often. A finer and braver and stronger fellow never lived. He'susing glasses too and I've no doubt he's recognized me."

  Dick suddenly waved his glasses aloft, and Harry Kenton replied in likemanner.

  "He sees and knows me!" cried Dick.

  But the sergeant was very sober. He foresaw that these youths, boundby such ties of blood and affection, might come into battle againsteach other. The same thought was in Dick's mind, despite his pleasureat the distant view of Harry.

  "We exchanged shots in the Manassas campaign," said Dick. "We weresheltered and we didn't know each other until several bullets hadpassed."

  "Three more horsemen have joined him," said the sergeant.

  "Those are his friends," said Dick, who had put the glasses back to hiseyes. "Look how they stand out against the sun!"

  The four horsemen in a row, at equal distances from one another, wereenlarged against a brilliant background of red and gold. Theirattitude was impressive, as they sat there, unmoving, like statues cutin stone. They were in truth Harry and Dalton, St. Clair and Happy Tom,and farther on the Invincibles were marching, the two colonels at theirhead, to the Valley of Virginia to reinforce Early, and to makeheadway, if possible, against Sheridan.

  Harry was deeply moved. Kinship and the long comradeship of youthcount for much. Perhaps for more in the South than anywhere else.Stirred by a sudden emotion he took off his cap and waved it as asignal of hail and farewell. The four removed their own caps and wavedthem also. Then they turned their horses in unison, rode over the hilland were gone from Dick's sight.

  Sergeant Whitley was not educated, but his experience was vast, he knewmen and he had the gift of sympathy. He understood Dick's feelings.

  "All civil wars are cruel," he said. "The killing of one's own peopleis worst of all."

  But as they went on, Dick's melancholy fell from him, and he had onlypleasant recollections of the meeting. Besides, the continued movementand freedom were inspiriting in the highest degree to youth. Althoughit was August the day was cool, and the blue sky of Virginia was neverbrighter. A refreshing breeze blew from dim, blue mountains that theycould see far ahead, and, as they entered a wide stretch of opencountry where ambush was impossible, the trumpets called in theflankers.

  "We shall make the lower mountains about midnight, and we'd better campthen until dawn. Don't you think so, gentlemen?" asked ColonelHertford of his associate colonels, Winchester and Bedford.

  "The plan seems sound to me," replied Bedford, the Pennsylvanian. "Ofcourse, we want to reach Sheridan as soon as possible, but if we pushthe horses too hard we'll break them down."

  Dick had dropped back with Warner and Pennington, but he heard thecolonels talking.

  "We all saw General Sheridan at the great battles in the West," hesaid. "I particularly remember how he planted himself and the batteriesat Perryville and saved us from defeat, but he seems to be looming upso much more now in the East."

  "He's become the Stuart of our side," said Warner. "I've heard some ofthe people at Washington don't believe in him, but he has GeneralGrant's confidence and that's enough for me. Not that I put militaryauthority over civil rule, but war has to be fought by soldiers. Ilook for lively times in the Valley of Virginia."

  "Anyway, the Lord has delivered me from the trenches at Petersburg,"said Pennington. "Think of me, used to roaming over a thousand milesof plains, shut up between mud walls only four or five feet apart."

  "I believe that, with Sheridan, you're going to have all the roamingyou want," said Dick.

  They passed silent farm houses, but took nothing from them. Ampleprovision was carried on extra horses or their own, and the threecolonels were anxious not to inflame the country by useless seizures.Twilight came, and the low mountains sank away in the dusk. But theyhad already reached a higher region where nearly all the hills werecovered with forest, and Colonel Hertford once more spread out theflankers, Dick and the sergeant, as before, taking the right with theirlittle troop.

  The night was fortunately clear, almost as light as day, with aburnished moon and brilliant stars, and they did not greatly fearambush. Dick shrewdly reckoned that Early would need all his men inthe valley, and, after the first day at sharpshooting, they wouldwithdraw to meet greater demands.

  Nevertheless he took a rather wide circuit and came into a lonelyportion of the hills, where the forest was unbroken, save for thenarrow path on which they rode. The sergeant dismounted once andexamined the ground.

  "Nothing has passed here," he said, "and the woods and thickets are sodense that men can't ride through 'em."

  The path admitted of only two abreast, and the forest was so heavy thatit shut out most of the moonlight. But they rode on confidently, Dickand the sergeant leading. If it had not been for the size of thetrees, Dick would have thought that he was back in the Wilderness.They heard now and then the wings of night birds among the leaves, andoccasionally some small animal would scuttle across the path. Theyforded a narrow but deep stream, its waters black from decayedvegetation, and continued to push on bris
kly through the unbrokenforest, until the sergeant said in a low voice to Dick:

  "I think I hear something ahead of us."

  They pulled back on the reins so suddenly that those behind almost rodeinto them. Then they sat there, a solid, compact little group, whileDick and the sergeant listened intently.

  "It's hoofbeats," said Dick, "very faint, because they are far away."

  "I think you are right, sir," said the sergeant.

  "But they're coming this way."

  "Yes, and at a steady pace. No stops and no hesitation."

  "Which shows that it's somebody who doesn't fear any harm."

  "The beats are pretty solid. A heavy man on a heavy horse."

  "About three hundred yards away, don't you think?"

  "About that, sir."

  "Maybe a farmer going home?"

  "Maybe, but I don't think so, sir."

  "At any rate, we'll soon see, because our unknown comes on without abreak. There he is now!"

  They had a comparatively clear view straight ahead, and the figure of aman and a horse emerged from the shadows.

  The sergeant raised his rifle, but, as the man came on without fear, hedropped it again. Some strange effect of the moonlight exaggerated therider and his horse, making both look gigantic, blending them togetherin such manner that a tremendous centaur seemed to be riding them down.In an instant or two the general effect vanished and as a clear beamfell upon the man's face Dick uttered an exclamation of relief.

  "Shepard!" he said, and he felt then that he should have known beforethat it was Shepard who was coming. He, alone of all men, seemed tohave the gift of omniscience and omnipresence. The spy drew his horseto a halt directly in front of him and saluted:

  "Lieutenant Mason, sir?" he said.

  "I'm glad it's you, Mr. Shepard," said Dick. "I think that in thiswood we'll need the hundred eyes that once belonged to Argus, but whichhe has passed on to you."

  "Thank you, sir," said Shepard.

  But the man at whom he looked most was the sergeant, and the sergeantlooked most at him. One was a sergeant and the other was a spy, buteach recognized in the other a king among men. Eyes swept overpowerful chests and shoulders and open, bold countenances, andsignified approval. They had met before, but they were more than wellmet here in the loneliness and the dark, amid dangers, where skill andcourage, and not rank, counted. Then they nodded without speaking, asan Indian chief would to an Indian chief, his equal.

  "You were coming to meet us, Mr. Shepard?" said Dick.

  "I expected to find you on this path."

  "And you have something to tell?"

  "A small Confederate force is in the mountains, awaiting ColonelHertford. It is inferior to his in numbers, but it knows the countrythoroughly and has the sympathy of all the inhabitants, who bring to itnews of everything."

  "Do you know these Confederate troops?"

  "Yes, sir. Their corps is a regiment called in General Lee's army theInvincibles, but it includes two other skeleton regiments. ColonelTalbot who leads the Invincibles is the commander of them all. He has,I should say, slightly less than a thousand men."

  "You know a good deal about this regiment called the Invincibles, doyou not, Mr. Shepard?"

  "I do, sir. Its colonel, Talbot, and its lieutenant-colonel, St.Hilaire, are as brave men as any that ever lived, and the regiment hasan extraordinary reputation in the Southern army for courage. Two ofGeneral Lee's young staff officers are also with them now."

  "Who are they?"

  "Lieutenant Harry Kenton and Lieutenant George Dalton."

  Dick with his troop rode at once to Colonel Hertford and reported.

  Colonel Hertford listened and then glanced at Dick.

  "Kenton is your cousin, I believe," he said.

  "Yes, sir," replied Dick. "He has been in the East all the time. Oncein the second Manassas campaign we came face to face and fired at eachother, although we did not know who was who then."

  "And now here you are in opposing forces again. With the warconverging as it is, it was more than likely that you should confronteach other once more."

  "But I don't expect to be shooting at Harry, and I don't think he'll beshooting at me."

  "Will you ride into the woods again on the right, Mr. Shepard?" saidColonel Hertford. "Perhaps you may get another view of thisConfederate force. Dick, you go with him. Warner, you and Penningtoncome with me."

  Dick and Shepard entered the woods side by side, and the youth who hada tendency toward self-analysis found that his liking and respect forthe spy increased. The general profession of a spy might be disliked,but in Shepard it inspired no repulsion, rather it increased his heroicaspect, and Dick found himself relying upon him also. He feltintuitively that when he rode into the forest with Shepard he rode intono danger, or if by any chance he did ride into danger, they would,under the guidance of the spy, ride safely out of it again.

  Shepard turned his horse toward the deeper forest, which lay on theleft, and very soon they were out of sight of the main column, althoughthe sound of hoofs and of arms, clinking against one another, stillcame faintly to them. Yet peace, the peace for which Dick longed soardently, seemed to dwell there in the woods. The summer was welladvanced and as the light winds blew, the leaves, already beginning todry, rustled against one another. The sound was pleasant and soothing.He and Harry Kenton and other lads of their age had often heard it onautumn nights, when they roamed through the forests around Pendleton insearch of the raccoon and the opossum. It all came back to him withastonishing vividness and force.

  He was boy and man in one. But he could scarcely realize the threeyears and more of war that had made him a man. In one way it seemed acentury, and in another it seemed but yesterday. The water rose in hiseyes at the knowledge that this same cousin who was like a brother tohim, one with whom he had hunted, fished, played and swum, was there inthe woods less than a mile away, and that he might be in battle withhim again before morning.

  "You were thinking of your cousin, Mr. Kenton," said Shepard suddenly.

  "Yes, but how did you know?" asked Dick in surprise.

  "Because your face suddenly became melancholy--the moonlight is good,enabling me to read your look--and sadness is not your naturalexpression. You recall that your cousin, of whom you think so much, isat hand with your enemies, and the rest is an easy matter of puttingtwo and two together."

  "You're right in all you say, Mr. Shepard, but I wish Harry wasn'tthere."

  Shepard was silent and then Dick added passionately:

  "Why doesn't the South give up? She's worn down by attrition. She'sblockaded hard and fast! When she loses troops in battle she can'tfind new men to take their places! She's short in food, ammunition,medicines, everything! The whole Confederacy can't be anything but ashell now! Why don't they quit!"

  "Pride, and a lingering hope that the unexpected will happen. Yes,we've won the war, Mr. Mason, but it's yet far from finished. Many agood man will fall in this campaign ahead of us in the valley, and inother campaigns too, but, as I see it, the general result is alreadydecided. Nothing can change it. Look between these trees, and you cansee the Southern force now."

  Dick from his horse gazed into a valley down which ran a good turnpike,looking white in the moonlight. Upon this road rode the Southern forcein close ranks, but too far away, for any sound of their hoof beats tocome to the watchers. The moon which was uncommonly bright now coloredthem all with silver, and Dick, with his imaginative mind, easilyturned them into a train of the knights of old, clad in glitteringmail. They created such a sense of illusion and distance, time as wellas space, that the peace of the moment was not disturbed. It was aspectacle out of the past, rather than present war.

  "You are familiar with the country, of course," said Dick.

  "Yes," replied Shepard. "Our road, as you know, is now runningparallel with that on which the Southern force is traveling, with abroad ridge between. But several miles farther on
the ridge becomesnarrower and the roads merge. We're sure to have a fight there. Likeyou, I'm sorry your cousin Harry Kenton is with them."

  "It seems that you and he know a good deal of each other."

  "Yes, circumstances have brought us into opposition again and againfrom the beginning of the war, but the same circumstances have made meknow more about him than he does about me. Yet I mean that we shall befriends when peace comes, and I don't think he'll oppose my wish."

  "He won't. Harry has a generous and noble nature. But he wouldn'tstand being patronized, merely because he happened to be on the beatenside."

  "I shouldn't think of trying to do such a thing. Now, we've seenenough, and I think we'd better go back to the colonels, with our news."

  They rode through the woods again, and, for most of the distance, therewas no sound from the marching troops. The wonderful feeling of peacereturned. The sky was as blue and soft as velvet. The great starsglittered and danced, and the wind among the rustling leaves was likethe soft singing of a violin. At one point they crossed a little brookwhich ran so swiftly down among the trees that it was a foam of water.They dismounted, drank hastily, and then let the horses take their fill.

  "I like these hills and forests and their clear waters," said Dick,"and judging by the appearance it must be a fine country to which we'recoming."

  "It is. It's something like your Kentucky Blue Grass, although it'ssmaller and it's hemmed in by sharper and bolder mountains. But Ishould say that the Shenandoah Valley is close to a hundred and twentymiles long, and from twenty-five to forty miles wide, not including itsspur, the Luray Valley, west of the Massanuttons."

  "As large as one of the German Principalities."

  "And as fine as any of them."

  "It's where Stonewall Jackson made that first and famous campaign ofhis."

  "And it's lucky for us that we don't have to face him there now. Earlyis a good general, they say, but he's no Stonewall Jackson."

  "And we're to be led by Sheridan. I think he saved us at Perryville inKentucky, but they say he's become a great cavalry commander. Do youknow him, Mr. Shepard?"

  "Well. A young man, and a little man. Why, you'd overtop him morethan half a head, Mr. Mason, but he has a great soul for battle. He'sthe kind that will strike and strike, and keep on striking, and that'sthe kind we need now."

  "Here are our own men just ahead. I see the three colonels ridingtogether."

  They went forward swiftly and told what they had seen, Shepard alsodescribing the nature of the ground ahead, and the manner in which thetwo roads converged.

  "Which column do you think will reach the junction first?" askedColonel Hertford.

  "They'll come to it about the same time," replied Shepard.

  "And so a clash is unavoidable. It was not our purpose to fight beforewe reached General Sheridan, but since the enemy wants it, it must bethat way."

  Orders were issued for the column to advance as quietly as possible,while skirmishers were thrown out to prevent any ambush. Shepard rodeagain into the forest but Dick remained with Warner and Pennington.Warner as usual was as cool as ice, and spoke in the precise, scholarlyway that he liked.

  "We march parallel with the enemy," he said, "and yet we're bound tomeet him and fight. It's a beautiful mathematical demonstration. Theroads are not parallel in an exact sense but converge to a point.Hence, it is not our wish, but the convergence of these roads thatbrings us together in conflict. So we see that the greatest issues ofour life are determined by mathematics. It's a splendid and romanticstudy. I wish you fellows would pay more attention to it."

  "Mathematics beautiful and romantic!" exclaimed Pennington. "Why,George, you're out of your head! There's nothing in the world I hatemore than the sight of an algebra!"

  "The trouble is with you and not with the algebra. You were alludingin a depreciatory manner to my head but it's your own head that fails.When I said algebra was a beautiful and romantic study I used theadjectives purposely. Out of thousands of adjectives in the dictionaryI selected those two to fit the case. What could be more delightfulthan an abstruse problem in algebra? You never know along whatcharming paths of the mind it will lead you. Moreover there is over ita veil of mystery. You can't surmise what delightful secrets it willreveal later on. What will the end be? What a powerful appeal such aquestion will always make to a highly intelligent and imaginative mindlike mine! No poetry! No beauty! Why every algebraic problem from thevery nature of its being is surcharged with it! It's like the mysteryof life itself, only in this case we solve the mystery! And if I maychange the metaphor, an algebraic formula is like a magnificentdiamond, cutting its way through the thick and opaque glass, whichrepresents the unknown! I long for the end of the war for many reasons,but chief among them is the fact that I may return to the romantic andillimitable fields of the mathematical problem!"

  "I didn't know anyone could ever become dithyrambic about algebra,"said Dick.

  "What's dithyrambic?" asked Pennington.

  "Spouting, Frank. But George, as we know, is a queer fellow. Theygrow 'em in Vermont, where they love steep mountains, deep ravines andhard mathematics."

  They had been speaking in low tones, but now they ceased entirely.Shepard had come back from the forest, reporting that the junction ofthe roads was near, and the Confederate force was marching toward it atthe utmost speed.

  The hostile columns might be in conflict in a half hour now, and themen prepared themselves. Innumerable battles and skirmishes couldnever keep their hearts from beating harder when it became evident thatthey were to go under fire once more. After the few orders necessary,there was no sound save that of the march itself. Meanwhile the moonand stars were doing full duty, and the night remained as bright asever.