"What happened, for goodness' sake?" I asked.
"It was dark," said Dancer. "Jest a bit of a moon behind clouds, and we was all in among the trees. The fighting had near'bouts stopped, and the general and my man and quite a few more had gone forward, ahead of our lines, to have a look around and try to find out what the enemy was up to. Coming back, we was fired on--I reckon 'twas our own fellas got confused. The general's been hit real bad."
"You mean he'll die?" I asked.
"I don't know," said Dancer, "but I reckon maybe he will. He's done fighting for a long time, anyways."
"Sorrel--what about Sorrel?" I says.
"Sorrel and the general was close to me jest afore it happened," replies Dancer. "It was as if Sorrel'd been expecting it. We was right close to a turnpike in the woods. When the firing started--the first volley--there was a whole passel of the general's people hit and fell off their horses. 'Twas all confusion in the dark, but the general warn't hit that time. Sorrel galloped off like he was doing his best to get away out of it. But he'd gone hardly any ways at all, 'crost the turnpike, when there come another volley, and that hit the general. You could see he was wounded real bad. He still stuck on Sorrel's back, though. I seed a branch hit him acrost the face--it tore off his cap and knocked him right back'ards in the saddle, but he didn't fall. He pulled hisself up, grabbed the bridle again and turned Sorrel back towards us. He got him into the turnpike, and that was where my man caught up with them and grabbed the reins. There was horses mad with fright running all ways. Some of 'em their men had been shot and fallen off, others had jest gone crazy and out of control. I seed four-five gallop off towards the enemy's lines. The whole bunch of us was jest shot or scairt to pieces, that was what it come to. There was no one left around at all, 'ceptin' for my man and one other. Then my man seed some stranger fella sitting on a horse 'longside the road, and he told him to go and see where the firing had come from. He went off, but he never come back.
"The general was bleeding something terrible, and he looked awful bad. I reckon he was in a lot of pain. He couldn't dismount--he kind of fell forward off'n Sorrel and my man caught him, but t'other officer had to pull his feet out of the stirrups. They carried him to the side of the road and laid him under a tree. After a bit Red Shirt come up with his fellas. When he seed what had happened, he was real shook. I seed him kneel down and pull off the general's gloves, and they was all full of blood. After a while two-three fellas got him on his feet, but jest then the enemy's guns commenced to firing and there was more confusion. The last I seed of the general, they was holding him up either side and he was doing his best to walk back all through the lines of Red Shirt's men as they went forward to attack. But I figure he's a-going to die sure 'nuff."
I could see Marse Robert walking up and down in the light of the fire, talking to Dancer's man. You could see he was shook up bad. Jest for once't he 'peared throwed completely off balance.
"Oh, Captain!" I heared him say. "General Jackson! General Jackson!"
I couldn't understand the rest, till all of a sudden he busted out with "Those people must be pressed today! They must be pressed hard!"
He pulls on his boots and someone called up the rest of headquarters. I felt so tired I wondered if'n I could make it, but somehow I did. Marse Robert had jest spread out some food for Dancer's master--yeah, Tom, he did that, right then, with his own hands--and mounted me when another of Cap-in-His-Eyes' officers come up--one I knowed by sight. Marse Robert listened to what he had to say, but he wouldn't let him talk about Cap-in-His-Eyes. "I know 'bout General Jackson," he said. "I don't want to hear any more."
The rest of that night was all coming and going, and Marse Robert giving out his orders. All I understood was we had to attack the Blue men right where they was, in the woods. Whatever had been the finish of the business with Cap-in-His-Eyes, you could hear the battle startin' up again over that way. And all round us, as it growed light, our soldiers was advancing and our guns was firing. Pretty soon, I knowed we must be driving the Blue men back, 'cause there was their wounded and dead on the ground and we was going right on past them.
And do you know, Tom, what Marse Robert was a-doing while this here battle was going on? He was sitting on my back, jest as nice as you please, talking to some foreign fella--nothing to do with the fighting or our people at all! I could tell this was some sort of foreigner, on 'count of he had a funny way of talking--something the same as Vot-you-voz. They was conversing jest as easy as if they'd been back home drinking coffee on the stoop. As for me, I was near'bouts asleep on my hooves, 'spite of all the racket.
We went this way and that--a good mile or more through them woods. Near's I could tell, Marse Robert wanted to make sure our fellas and Cap-in-His-Eyes' lot was finally going to jine up together. I recollect seeing one of our wounded men a-laying there on the ground, waving his cap and shouting, "General Lee! General Lee!" Marse Robert pulled up an' said, "God bless you, my man!" I remember how we stopped off right where some of our guns was firing. The bangs--they shook me from head to hooves. Couldn't see straight, couldn't hear nothing else. Marse Robert, he was jest as calm as always, an' paying no never-mind at all to the enemy shells a-bursting round. I don't know why nothing hit us, but it didn't.
After a while we went forward with them guns. It was a pesky business our poor horses had of it, hauling 'em through the brush and in and out the soft ground, but after 'bout half a mile we come to a little bit of a hump rising atop the woods. There was a whole bunch of our guns had been dragged up there. They was jest a-blazing away, and 'far as I could tell in all the noise and smoke, the Blue men was good as cut to pieces and running off quick as they could. Every now and then I'd catch a sight of little groups of 'em, doing their best to keep in among the thickest parts of the trees. Their guns kept firing, though, and I seed a plenty of our poor horses go down. Our gunners, they was black from head to foot; and all the time there come a steady stream of wounded fellas back past us--some limping along, some leaning on others and some jest a-dragging theirselves over the ground. One man died almost under my hooves, and no one 'peared to have a moment even to pull him out the way.
By this time all the woods in front of this here hump we was on was a-burning. First one part would catch fire and then another; then two parts'd jine together and go up in a great roar, high as the trees. You couldn't tell that smoke from the battle-smoke of the guns, nor you couldn't tell the Yell from the shouting and screaming of the wounded trying to get out of the fires. I recollect one of our men--jest a boy, really--going on through the smoke, carrying one of our cloths on sticks and calling out, "Come on! Come on, y'all!" And when he went down, another young fella grabbed the stick right out of his hand, and on they-all went. I've been in a heap o' battles, Tom, but that's one I'll never forget--standing as steady as I could on that there hump and looking acrost the fighting and the burning all around.
Pretty soon, though, Marse Robert was urging me on--well, back towards where we'd started out from, really, you see, 'cause now all our Army was back together and advancing in a line--if'n you could call it a line, in that place where we was. There can't never have been a mess like that since the world began. There was dead horses, guns blowed up, wheels laying around, limbers overturned, muskets and knapsacks the Blue men had throwed away, blankets, caps, belts--everything you can name. And the dead men--ours an' theirs--was so thick I had to pick my way over 'em like they was rocks. Some you couldn't scarcely tell they'd ever been men. I went through it all jest like Marse Robert signaled. That's what we call "battle-hardened," Tom, you know.
At last we got to a kind of an open clearing, where there was a house all afire. You could see where the Blue men had dug up the ground for their trenches, but now the place was full of our fellas. When they seed me and Marse Robert, they went good as wild. There men crowding round us, trying to shake Marse Robert's hand, grabbing at my bridle, cheering--some of 'em crying, even. One fella laid his head agin my neck and put his arm
round it, shouting, "Bless the General! Bless General Lee!" There was thousands all round, yelling, "Marse Robert! Marse Robert! Bless General Lee!" The soldiers was mostly in rags, clothes all tore to shreds from the thickets, faces streaked black, scratched and bleeding. There was wounded fellas lifting up their hands to touch my legs, touch the stirrups--anything.
Then three-four of our fellas come pushing up to us with a whole passel of Blue men they'd taken prisoner. One of them calls out, "Surrendered, General! They're surrendered!" Marse Robert jest nods and salutes, and then he says they was to be taken away to the rear and given some water. But I don't even know if'n anyone could hear him, on 'count of the whole place was that full o' shouting and yelling. We'd seed some victories, but never one like this'n.
Even Marse Robert seemed sort of struck speechless. He sat where he was in the saddle--he couldn't do nothing else; he'd been forced to a halt in the crowd--and looked round him at his soldiers. Once't or twice't he took the hands of the fellas nearest him. He kept having to pull me in, else I'd have been treading the men down. I did my best to live up to it. I picked up my hooves, arched my neck and tossed my head, and tried all I could to act like a general's horse. I jest wished Skylark had been around to see it.
In the middle of it all, I found myself wondering where they'd taken poor Sorrel, and remembering what he'd said 'bout a good horse often knowing more'n what his man knowed. And then, all of a sudden, standing there in front of the burning house, up to my fetlocks in the wreckage of the battle, I realized there was something I knowed beyond doubt. I knowed that in the end we was going to beat the enemy and there'd be an end to all the killing and the guns and the fear of battle. We was going to make them give up. I'd never thought 'bout this before, but I knowed it right 'nuff now. I knowed it jest like poor Sorrel had knowed--or half-knowed--'bout Cap-in-His-Eyes and the men shooting in the dark. I knowed where we was going and how we-all was going to finally come out.
By this time they'd put out part of the fire, and there was a piece of the house and some of the sheds where they'd put the wounded-- our fellas and the enemy all together. Marse Robert dismounted and went to see them, like he always did after a battle. I was glad 'nuff jest to stand round and get a good, long drink. I felt real easy now. There was one thing 'bout that place, Tom, you know. The smoke kept down the dad-blame flies.
Later that afternoon, Marse Robert had a tent set up 'longside the road, and talked to the generals--Red Shirt, Jine-the-Cavalry and some more. He'd already ridden me a way through the woods to talk to the Fat General. Marse Robert evidently had some special job for the Fat General, 'cause I recollect how he saluted and went straight oft to get his men together on the road. When we'd come back, I lay down on the ground right near that little tent and went to sleep as sound as though I'd been in stables.
Well, that was about it, Tom--our great victory. There was some more moving round, and I reckon the Fat General must 'a done some good fighting, 'cause I can recall Marse Robert riding up to him and telling him as much. But that's all I can remember, 'cause Marse Robert realized I was plumb wore out, and for the next two-three days he rode Lucy while I had a good rest. There was a vet. come to look me over, but he couldn't find nothing wrong, 'ceptin' I was exhausted. Marse Robert found time, too, to come and talk to me. He brung the foreign fella with him. "Ah," he says to him, stroking my nose, "this is one of the bravest soldiers in my Army."
And do you know, Tom, that foreign fella, he actually captured some Blue men, too? Yes, he did, all on his own, and brung 'em back to headquarters! 'Parently he'd gone to look for something for his horse to eat, and near a farmhouse he come on these here Blue fellas. So he up and spoke to 'em real sharp--so his horse told me--'said there was a whole bunch of our cavalry coming along, and they'd best jest give theirselves up. And they was so scairt by everything that had happened that day they jest did what he told them. They was what we call demoralized, Tom, you see.
That reminds me of another thing I remember--'bout Jine-the-Cavalry's friend, Vot-you-voz. It was the night after the battle, and Marse Robert, he was a-setting by a little fire, all in among the thick trees. Vot-you-voz was with him, but whatever 'twas they had to be doing, the firelight was so dim they couldn't see to do it properly. So while Marse Robert was a-talking to someone else, Vot-you-voz slipped off and after a while he come back with a box of candles.
"Major," says Marse Robert, "I know where you went to get those. It was jest a few yards in front of the enemy lines, wasn't it?"
Vot-you-voz says yes, 'twas. "You acted wrongly," says Marse Robert, "to risk your life for that." And with that he looks at him real straight, to show he meant it.
I could see Vot-you-voz thinking that if it come down to risking lives, Marse Robert could get his nose out'n front of most people; but he never said so. He jest stayed quiet and lit one of the candles from the fire. But I didn't hear no more'n that, 'cause I fell fast asleep-- yeah, even though the woods was full of the crying of wounded men and poor fellas calling out for water.
Two days later, I met Skylark again--Jine-the-Cavalry had ridden in to talk to Marse Robert--and he told me he knowed now that every single one of the Blue men had run back 'crost the river, 'ceptin' for the dead and wounded they'd left.
"I do hope everything went all right with you in the battle, Traveller?" says Skylark, like he was inquiring after my nose bag.
"Hadn't, I shouldn't be here," I answered.
"That's fine! You're not too tired, then?" he persisted. "Very little to eat jest now, ain't there? I hope you don't feel it too bad?"
If anyone'd been in three battles, one after t'other, Skylark's manners'd still have been 'nuff to make him feel small. Jest the same, he was a horse you couldn't dislike. The way he acted, anyone'd think he'd spent the last five days in a green meadow. He was hiding a limp, and I noticed that one of his ears had been nicked by a bullet--or by something, anyways.
Well, I guess now you sure are a well-washed cat, Tom. Why don't you hop up in the manger and go to sleep in the hay? Scares the mice away, that does--jest the smell of a cat.
XIV
Hey, there, Tom! For goodness' sakes, how long is it since we seed each other? 'Must be 'least two months! I seed you asleep on the brick wall s'afternoon when we come riding in, but I didn't figure on you laming so soon that we was back home. Well, 'course you'd know Marse Robert was back, so I guess you could reckon I was. I take it real kind you dropping in the first night I'm here. I hope you've been enjoying the summer weather while we've been away. Me, I'm glad to have it a mite cooler. 'Won't be long till fall now. I'm glad to be back. Mind you, stables have been real good everywhere we've been and we've had some great rides--best ever--but it's still good to be home. I reckon no one puts up a bran mash like good old Isaiah.
'Course, Isaiah was looking after things while we was gone, warn't he? There was Miss Agnes, and Miss Life and Mr. Custis came with us, and that young fella, Captain White, him that was in the Army long o' Marse Robert. General Pendleton's daughter come along, too. She's quite a friend of Miss Agnes, you know. Maybe they felt she could help with looking after the old lady. Well, the old lady's pretty well infirm now, Tom, you know. Can't hardly get out of that rolling chair of hers.
It was a real fine morning when we started out. Marse Robert and me was riding, and Captain White along with us. I like his mare. She's a real nice young filly--good goer, too--name of Bluebird. We jest took it nice and easy for a thirty-mile day--finished up at a small town in the mountains; good stables. We met up with the others there. They'd come by coaches and the railroad, you see.
Now here's what I've got to tell you, Tom, and this is really something. You know what? We set out the next day, and when we started coming down out of the mountains on t'other side, I suddenly realized that I more or less knowed where I was! I hadn't 'zackly been over that particular chunk of road before, but jest the same I knowed them mountains and that there country--jest the smell of it! It was them same wood
ed mountains where I'd first met up with Marse Robert, years ago! Jest the smell of that durned ground laurel brung it back to me, even though it warn't raining and the day was nice and sunny. 'Course, we was traveling on a good road now--not a cloud in the sky, plenty of food inside and a good night's sleep behind me, but jest the same I couldn't help but recall something of that bad fall in the rain, with all the men sick and the wagons axle-deep in the mud. If'n I'm any judge, we warn't so far away from that very same mountain, and we was back on the main pike to that town where I took the prize and Jim rode me into the tent. Made me feel jest like a colt again! But I was a durn sight happier to feel Marse Robert on my back than Captain Joe--yeah, or even Jim, even if'n he was sech a nice young fella and trained me so well. I thought of them days, and how far me and Marse Robert had come since then. I can say this to you, Tom--maybe you're the only one I can say it to: it's something to be not only Marse Robert's horse, but to know that you're Marse Robert's horse 'cause you've come through thick and thin with him and he never wanted another, never once't.
When we set off next morning, we very soon left the coach people behind, and it might have been--oh, maybe twenty mile to this here place we was heading to. We took it easy, you know--stopped for a bite round the middle of the day; and we got in and finished up pretty early on in the afternoon.
It was quite a place, Tom. Only a small town--oh, yeah, lots smaller'n here--but jest the same there was a power of people stopping at this one big house: old fellas like Marse Robert, 'long with their wives; lots of young ladies and gentlemen--all sorts--some of 'em had brung their own black folks along; and, 'course, a heap of horses, all in good stables round a fine, big yard. How I figured it, from the way they was all behaving and the high spirits they mostly seemed to be in, they'd all a-come together to have a high old time. So many horses and people, it was almost like being back in camp--'ceptin' for the girls: more girls'n men, near'bouts. And this sure warn't no camp. It was even grander and more showy'n them big houses where Marse Robert sometimes used to stay when we was on campaign.