The Tree of Appomattox Part 24
"I think as you do," said Warner. "I suppose it's best for the cavalry to go back, but I wish General Sheridan had taken me on to Washington with him. I'd like to see the lights of the capital again. Besides, I'd have given the President and the Secretary of War some excellent advice."
"He isn't jesting. He means it," said Pennington to d.i.c.k.
"Of course I do," said Warner calmly. "When General Sheridan failed to take me with him, the government lost a great opportunity."
But their hearts were light and they rode gaily back, unconscious of the singular event that was preparing for them.
The army of Early had not been destroyed entirely. Sheridan, with all his energy, and with all the courage and zeal of his men could not absolutely crush his foe. Some portions of the hostile force were continually slipping away, and now Early, refusing to give up, was gathering them together again, and was meditating a daring counter stroke. The task might well have appalled any general and any troops, but if Early had one quality in preeminence it was the resolution to fight. And most of his officers and men were veterans. Many of them had ridden with Jackson on his marvelous campaigns. They were familiar with the taste of victory, and defeat had been very bitter to them. They burned to strike back, and they were willing to dare anything for the sake of it.
Orders had already gone to all the scattered and ragged fragments, and the men in gray were concentrating. Many of them were half starved. The great valley had been stripped of all its live stock, all its grain and of every other resource that would avail an army. Nothing could be obtained, except at Staunton, ninety miles back of Fisher's Hill, and wagons could not bring up food in time from such a distant place.
Nevertheless the men gleaned. They searched the fields for any corn that might be left, and ate it roasted or parched. Along the slopes of the mountains they found nuts already ripening, and these were prizes indeed.
Among the gleaners were Harry Kenton, the staunch young Presbyterian, Dalton, and the South Carolinians, St. Clair and Langdon. St. Clair alone was impeccable of uniform, absolutely trim, and Langdon alone deserved his nickname of Happy.
"Don't be discouraged, boys," he said as he pulled from the stalk an ear of corn that the hoofs of the Northern cavalry had failed to trample under. "Now this is a fine ear, a splendid ear, and if you boys search well you may be able to find others like it. All things come to him who looks long enough. Remember how Nebuchadnezzar ate gra.s.s, and he must have had to do some hunting too, because I understand gra.s.s didn't grow very freely in that part of the world, and then remember also that we are not down to gra.s.s yet. Corn, nuts and maybe a stray pumpkin or two. 'Tis a repast fit for the G.o.ds, n.o.ble sirs."
"I can go without, part of the time," said Harry, "but it hurts me to have to hunt through a big field for a nubbin of corn and then feel happy when I've got the wretched, dirty, insignificant little thing. My father often has a hundred acres of corn in a single field, producing fifty bushels to the acre."
"And my father," said Dalton, "has a single field of fifty acres that produces fifteen hundred bushels of wheat, but it's been a long time since I've seen a shock of wheat."
"Console yourself with the knowledge," said Harry, "that it's too late in the year for wheat to be in the stack."
"Or anywhere else, either, so far as we're concerned."
"Don't murmur," said Happy. "Mourners seldom find anything, but optimists find, often. Didn't I tell you so? Here's another ear."
Harry had approached the edge of the field and he saw something red gleaming through a fringe of woods beyond. The experienced eye of youth told him at once what it was, and he called to his comrades.
"Come on, boys," he said. "There's a little orchard beyond the wood. I know there is because I caught a glimpse of a red apple hanging from a tree. I suppose the skirt of forest kept the Yankee raiders from seeing it."
They followed with a shout of joy.
"Treasure trove!" exclaimed Happy.
"Who's an optimist now?" asked Harry.
"All of us are," said St. Clair.
They pa.s.sed through the wood and entered a small orchard of not more than half an acre. But it was filled with apple trees loaded with red apples, big juicy fellows, just ripened by the October sun. A little beyond the orchard in a clearing was a small log house, obviously that of the owner of the orchard, and also obviously deserted. No smoke rose from the chimneys, and windows and doors were nailed up. The proprietor no doubt had gone with his family to some town and the apples would have rotted on the ground had the young officers not found them.
"There must be bushels and bushels here," said St. Clair. "We'll fill up our sacks first and then call the other men."
They had brought sacks with them for the corn, but the few ears they had found took up but little s.p.a.ce.
"I'll climb the trees, and shake 'em down," said Harry. He was up a tree in an instant, all his boyhood coming back to him, and, as he shook with his whole strength, the red apples, held now by twigs nearly dead, rained down. They pa.s.sed from tree to tree and soon their sacks were filled.
"Now for the colonels," said St. Clair, "and on our way we'll tell the others."
Bending under the weight of the sacks, they took their course toward a snug cove in the first slope of the Ma.s.sanuttons, hailing friends on the way and sending them with swift steps toward the welcome orchard. They pa.s.sed within the shadow of a grove, and then entered a small open s.p.a.ce, where two men sat on neighboring stumps, with an empty box between them. Upon the box reposed a board of chessmen and at intervals the two intent players spoke.
"If you expect to capture my remaining knight, Hector, you'll have to hurry. We march tomorrow."
"I can't be hurried, Leonidas. This is an intellectual game, and if it's played properly it demands time. If I don't take your remaining knight before tomorrow I'll take him a month from now, after this campaign is over."
"I have my doubts, Hector; I've heard you boast before."
"I never boast, Leonidas. At times I make statements and prophecies, but I trust that I'm too modest a man ever to boast."
"Then advance your battle line, Hector, and see what you can do. It's your move."
The two gray heads bent so low over the narrow board that they almost touched. For a little s.p.a.ce the campaign, the war, and all their hardships floated away from them, their minds absorbed thoroughly in the difficult game which had come in the dim past out of the East. They did not see anything around them nor did they hear Harry as he approached them with the heavy sack of apples upon his back.
Harry's affection for both of the colonels was strong and as he looked at them he realized more than ever their utter unworldliness. He, although a youth, saw that they belonged to a pa.s.sing era, but in their very unworldliness lay their attraction. He knew that whatever the fortunes of the war, they would, if they lived, prove good citizens after its close. All rancor-no, not rancor, because they felt none-rather all hostility would be buried on the battlefield, and the friend whom they would be most anxious to see and welcome was John Carrington, the great Northern artilleryman, who had done their cause so much damage.
He opened his sack and let the red waterfall of apples pour down at their feet. Startled by the noise, they looked up, despite a critical situation on the board. Then they looked down again at the scarlet heap upon the gra.s.s, and, powerful though the attractions of chess were, they were very hungry men, and the shining little pyramid held their gaze.
"Apples! apples, Harry!" said Colonel Talbot. "Many apples, magnificent, red and ripe! Is it real?"
"No, Leonidas, it can't be real," said Lieutenant Colonel Hector St. Hilaire. "It can't be possible in a country that Sheridan swept as bare as the palm of my hand. It's only an idle dream, Leonidas. I was deceived by it myself, for a moment, but we will not yield any longer to such weakness. Come, we will return to our game, where every move has now become vital."
"But it isn't a dream, sir! It's real!" exclaimed Harry joyfully. "We found an abandoned orchard, and it was just filled with 'em. Help yourselves!"
The colonels put away their chessmen, remembering well where every one had stood, and fell on with the appet.i.tes of boys. Other officers, and then soldiers who were made welcome, joined them. Harry and Dalton, after having eaten their share, were walking along the slope of the mountain, when they heard the sound of a shot. It seemed to come from a dense thicket, and, as no Northern skirmishers could be near, their curiosity caused them to rush forward. When they entered the thicket they heard Langdon's voice raised in a shout of triumph.
"I got him! I got him!" he cried. Then they heard a heavy sliding sound, as of something being dragged, and the young South Carolinian appeared, pulling after him by its hind legs a fine hog which he had shot through the head.
"It was fair game," he cried, as he saw his friends. "Piggy here was masterless, roaming around the woods feeding on nuts until he was fat and juicy! My, how good he will taste! At first I thought he was a bear, but bear or hog he was bound to fall to my pistol!"
Langdon had indeed found a prize, and he had robbed no farmer to obtain it. Harry and Dalton stood by for a half minute and gloated with him. Then they helped him drag the hog into the cove, where the colonels sat. A half dozen experts quickly dressed the animal, and the Invincibles had a feast such as they had not tasted in a long time.
"Didn't I tell you," said Happy as he gazed contentedly into the coals over which the hog had been roasted in sections, "that those who look hard generally discover, that is, 'seek and ye shall find.' It's the optimists who arrive. Your pessimist quits before he comes to the apple trees, or before he reaches the thicket that conceals the fine fat pig. As for me, I'm always an optimist, twenty-four carats fine, and therefore I'm the superior of you fellows."
"You're happier than we are because you don't feel any sense of responsibility," said Dalton. "I'd rather be unhappy than have an empty head."
"Oh, it's just jealous you are, George Dalton. Born with a sour disposition you can't bear to see me shedding joy and light about me."
Dalton laughed.
"It's true, Happy," he said. "You do help, and for that reason we tolerate you, not because of your prowess in battle."
"Has anybody seen that fellow Slade again?" asked St. Clair.
"I'm thankful to say no," replied Harry. "He came out of the Southwest promising big things, and he certainly does have great skill in the forest, but our officers don't like his looks. Nor did I. If there was ever a thorough villain I'm sure he's one. I've heard that he's drawn off and is operating with a band of guerrillas in the mountains, robbing and murdering, I suppose."
"And they say that a big ruffian from the Kentucky mountains with another band has joined him," said Happy.