The Tree of Appomattox

  CHAPTER X

  AN UNBEATEN FOE

  Dick's belief that he would not be allowed to sleep long was justified.In three or four hours the whole Winchester regiment was up, mountedand away again. Early and his army left the great valley pike, andtook a road leading toward the Blue Ridge, where he eventually entereda gap, and fortified to await supplies and fresh men from Richmond,leaving all the great Valley of Virginia, where in former years theNorthern armies had suffered so many humiliations, in the possession ofSheridan. It was the greatest and most solid triumph that the Union hadyet achieved and Dick and the youths with him rejoiced.

  After many days of marching and fighting they lay once more in theshadow of the mountains, within a great grove of oak and beech, hickoryand maple. The men and then the horses had drunk at a large brookflowing near by, and both were content. The North, as always, sentforward food in abundance to its troops, and now, just as the twilightwas coming, the fires were lighted and the pleasant aromas of supperwere rising. Colonel Winchester and his young staff sat by one of thefires near the edge of the creek. They had not taken off their clothesin almost a week, and they felt as if they had been living likecave-men. Nevertheless the satisfaction that comes from deeds welldone pervaded them, and as they lay upon the leaves and awaited theirfood and coffee they showed great good humor.

  "Have you any objection, sir, to my taking a census?" said Warner toColonel Winchester.

  "No, Warner, but what kind of a census do you mean?"

  "I want to count our wounds, separately and individually and then makeup the grand total."

  "All right, George, go ahead," said Colonel Winchester, laughing.

  "Dick," said Warner, "what hurts have you sustained in the past week?"

  "A bullet scratch on the shoulder, another on the side, a slight cutfrom a saber on my left arm, about healed now, a spent bullet that hitme on the head, raising a lump and ache for the time being, and a kickfrom one of our own horses that made me walk lame for a day."

  "The kick from a horse, as it was one of our horses, doesn't go."

  "I didn't put it forward seriously. I withdraw my claim on itsaccount."

  "That allows you four wounds. Now, Pennington, how about you?"

  "First I had a terrible wound in the foot," replied the Nebraskan. "Abullet went right through my left shoe and cut the skin off the top ofmy little toe."

  "Leave out the 'terrible.' That's no dreadful wound."

  "No, but it burned like the sting of a wasp and bled in a mostdisgraceful manner all over my sock. Then my belt buckle was shotaway."

  "That doesn't count either. A wound's a wound only when you're hityourself, not when some piece of your clothing is struck."

  "All right. The belt buckle's barred, although it gave me a shock whenthe bullet met it. A small bullet went through the flesh of my leftarm just above the elbow. It healed so fast that I've hardly noticedit, due, of course, to the very healthy and temperate life I've led. Isuppose, George, it would have laid up a fellow of your habits for aweek."

  "Never mind about my habits, but go on with the list of your wounds. Agreat beauty of mathematics is that it compels you to keep to yoursubject. When you're solving one of those delightful problems inmathematics you can't digress and drag in irrelevant things. Algebrais the very thing for a confused mind like yours, Frank, one thatdoesn't coordinate. But get on with your list."

  "When we were in pursuit my horse stumbled in a gully and fell so hardthat I was thrown over his shoulder, giving my own shoulder a painfulbruise that's just getting well."

  "We'll allow that, since it happened in battle. What else now? Speakup!"

  "That's all. Three good wounds, according to your own somewhat severedefinition of a wound. I'm one behind Dick, but I believe that when Iwas thrown over my horse's head I was hurt worse than he was at anytime."

  "Frank Pennington, you're a good comrade, but you're a liar, anunmitigated liar."

  "George, if I weren't so tired and so unwilling to be angry withanybody I'd get up and belt you on the left ear for that."

  "But you're a liar, just the same. You're holding something back."

  "What are you driving at, you chattering Green Mountaineer?"

  "Why don't you tell something about the time the trooper fell from hishorse wounded, and you, dismounting under the enemy's fire, helped himon your own horse, although you got two wounds in your body while doingit, and brought him off in safety? Didn't I say that you were a liar,a convicted liar from modesty?"

  Pennington blushed.

  "I didn't want to say anything about that," he muttered. "I had to doit."

  "Lots of men wouldn't have had to do it. You go down for five goodwounds, Frank Pennington."

  "Now, then, what about yourself, George?" asked Dick.

  "One in the arm, one on the shoulder and one across the ankle. I don'twaste time in words, like you two, my verbose friends. That gives thethree of us combined twelve wounds, a fair average of four apiece."

  "And it's our great good luck that not one of the twelve is a disablinghurt," said Dick.

  "But we get the credit for the full twelve, all the same," said Warner,"and we maintain our prestige in the army. Our consciences also aresatisfied. But the last two or three weeks of battles and marches havefairly made me dizzy. I can't remember them or their sequence. All Iknow is that we've cleaned up the valley, and here we are ready at lastto take a couple of minutes of well earned rest."

  "Do you know," said Pennington, "there were times when I clear forgotto be hungry, and I've been renowned in our part of Nebraska for myappetite. But nature always gets even. For all those periods offorgetfulness memory is now rushing upon me. I'm hungry not only forthe present but from the past. It'll take a lot to satisfy me."

  The briskness of the night also sharpened Pennington's appetite. Theywere deep in autumn, and the winds from the mountains had an edge. Thefoliage had turned and it glowed in vivid reds and yellows on theslopes, although the intense colors were hidden now by the coming ofnight.

  The wind was cold enough to make the fires feel good to their relaxedsystems, and they spread out their hands to the welcome flames, as theyhad often done at home on wintry nights, when children. Beyond thetrees the horses, under guard, were grazing on what was left of thelate grass, but within the wood the men themselves, save those who werepreparing food, were mostly lying down on the dry leaves or theirblankets, and were talking of the things they had done, or the thingsthey were going to do.

  "I wonder what the bill of fare will be tonight," said Pennington, whowas growing hungrier and hungrier.

  "I had several engraved menus," said Warner, "but I lost them, and sowe won't be able to order. We'll just have to take what they offer us."

  "A month or so later they'll be having fresh sausage and spare ribs inold Kentucky," said Dick, "and I wish we had 'em here now."

  "And a month later than that," said Pennington, "they'll be having aroasted bull buffalo weighing five thousand pounds for Christmas dinnerin Nebraska."

  "Nonsense!" exclaimed Warner. "No buffalo ever weighed five thousandpounds."

  Pennington looked at him pityingly.

  "You have no romance or poetry after all, George," he said. "Why can'tyou let me put on an extra twenty-five hundred or three thousand poundsfor the sake of effect?"

  "Besides, you don't roast buffaloes whole and bring them in on aplatter!"

  "No, we don't, but that's no proof that we can't or won't. Now, whatwould you like to have, George?"

  "After twelve or fifteen other things, I'd like to finish off with awhole pumpkin pie, and a few tin cups of cider would go along with itmighty well. That's the diet to make men, real men, I mean."

  "Any way," said Dick, raising a tin cup of hot coffee, "here's to food.You may sleep without beds, and, in tropical climates, you may gowithout clothes, but in whatever part of the world you may be, you musthave food. And it's best when you've ridden har
d all day, and, in thecool of an October evening, to sit down by a roaring fire in the woodswith the dry leaves beneath you, and the clear sky above you."

  "Hear! hear!" said Warner. "Who's dithyrambic now? But you're right,Dick. War is a terrible thing. Besides being a ruthless slaughterit's an economic waste,--did you ever think of that, you recklessyoungsters?--but it has a few minor compensations, and one of them isan evening like this. Why, everything tastes good to us. Nothingcould taste bad. Our twelve wounds don't pain us in the least, andthey'll heal absolutely in a few days, our blood being so healthy. Theair we breathe is absolutely pure and the sky over our heads is allblue and silver, spangled with stars, a canopy stretched for ourespecial benefit, and upon which we have as much claim of ownership asanybody else has. We've lived out of doors so much and we've beenthrough so much hard exercise that our bodies are now pretty nearlytempered steel. I doubt whether I'll ever be able to live indoorsagain, except in winter."

  "I'm the luckiest of all," said Pennington. "Out on the plains wedon't have to live indoors much anyway. I've lived mostly in thesaddle since I was seven or eight years old, but the war has toughenedme just the same. I'll be able to sleep out any time, except in theblizzards."

  "As soon as you finish devouring the government stores," said a voicebehind them, "it would be well for all of you to seek the sleep you'retelling so much about."

  It was Colonel Winchester who spoke, and they looked at him,inquiringly.

  "Can I ask, sir, which way we ride?" said Dick.

  "Northward with General Sheridan," replied the Colonel.

  "But there is no enemy to the north, sir!"

  "That's true, but we go that way, nevertheless. Although you'rediscreet young officers I'm not going to tell you any more. Now, asyou've eaten enough food and drunk enough coffee, be off to yourblankets. I want all of you to be fresh and strong in the morning."

  Fresh and strong they were, and promptly General Sheridan rode away,taking with him all the cavalry, his course taking him toward FrontRoyal. The news soon spread among the horsemen that from Front Royalthe general would go on to Washington for a conference with the WarDepartment, while the cavalry would turn through a gap in themountains, and then destroy railroads in order to cut off GeneralEarly's communications with Richmond.

  "We're to be an escort and then a fighting and destroying force," saidDick. "But it's quite sure that we'll meet no enemy until we gothrough the gap. Meanwhile we'll enjoy a saunter along the valley."

  But when they reached Front Royal a courier, riding hard, overtookthem. He demanded to be taken at once to the presence of GeneralSheridan, and then he presented a copy of a dispatch which read:

  To Lieutenant-General Early:

  Be ready to move as soon as my forces join you, and we will crush Sheridan. Longstreet, Lieutenant-General.

  Sheridan read the dispatch over and over again, and pondered itgravely. The courier informed him that it was the copy of a signal madeby the Confederate flags on Three Top Mountain, and deciphered by Unionofficers who had obtained the secret of the Confederate code. GeneralWright, whom he had left in command, had sent it to him in all hastefor what it was worth.

  The young general not only pondered the message gravely, but hepondered it long. Finally he called his chief officers around him andconsulted with them. If the grim and bearded Longstreet were reallycoming into the valley with a formidable force, then indeed it would bethe dance of death. Longstreet, although he did not have the genius ofStonewall Jackson, was a fierce and dangerous fighter. All of themknew how he had come upon the field of Chickamauga with his veteransfrom Virginia, and had turned the tide of battle. His presence in thevalley might quickly turn all of Sheridan's great triumphs intowithered laurels.

  But Sheridan had a great doubt in his mind. The Confederate signalfrom Three Top Mountain that his own officers had read might not bereal. It might have been intended to deceive, Early's signalmenlearning that the Union signalmen had deciphered their code, or itmight be some sort of a grim joke. He did not believe that the Army ofNorthern Virginia could spare Longstreet and a large force, as it wouldbe weakened so greatly that it could no longer stand before Grant, evenwith the aid of the trenches.

  His belief that this dispatch, upon which so much turned, as they wereto learn afterward, was false, became a conviction and most of hisofficers agreed with him. He decided at last that the coming ofLongstreet with an army into the valley was an impossibility, and hewould go on to Washington. But Sheridan made a reservation, and this,too, as the event showed, was highly important. He ordered all thecavalry back to General Wright, while he proceeded with a small escortto the capital.

  It was Dick who first learned what had happened, and soon all knew.They discussed it fully as they rode back on their own tracks, and onthe whole they were glad they were to return.

  "I don't think I'd like to be tearing up railroads and destroyingproperty," said Dick. "I prefer anyhow for the valley to be my home atpresent, although I believe that dispatch means nothing. Why, theConfederates can't possibly rally enough men to attack us!"

  "I think as you do," said Warner. "I suppose it's best for the cavalryto go back, but I wish General Sheridan had taken me on to Washingtonwith 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 excellentadvice."

  "He isn't jesting. He means it," said Pennington to Dick.

  "Of course I do," said Warner calmly. "When General Sheridan failed totake me with him, the government lost a great opportunity."

  But their hearts were light and they rode gaily back, unconscious ofthe singular event that was preparing for them.

  * * * *

  The army of Early had not been destroyed entirely. Sheridan, with allhis energy, and with all the courage and zeal of his men could notabsolutely crush his foe. Some portions of the hostile force werecontinually slipping away, and now Early, refusing to give up, wasgathering them together again, and was meditating a daring counterstroke. The task might well have appalled any general and any troops,but if Early had one quality in preeminence it was the resolution tofight. And most of his officers and men were veterans. Many of themhad ridden with Jackson on his marvelous campaigns. They were familiarwith the taste of victory, and defeat had been very bitter to them.They burned to strike back, and they were willing to dare anything forthe sake of it.

  Orders had already gone to all the scattered and ragged fragments, andthe men in gray were concentrating. Many of them were half starved.The great valley had been stripped of all its live stock, all its grainand of every other resource that would avail an army. Nothing could beobtained, except at Staunton, ninety miles back of Fisher's Hill, andwagons could not bring up food in time from such a distant place.

  Nevertheless the men gleaned. They searched the fields for any cornthat might be left, and ate it roasted or parched. Along the slopes ofthe mountains they found nuts already ripening, and these were prizesindeed.

  Among the gleaners were Harry Kenton, the staunch young Presbyterian,Dalton, and the South Carolinians, St. Clair and Langdon. St. Clairalone was impeccable of uniform, absolutely trim, and Langdon alonedeserved his nickname of Happy.

  "Don't be discouraged, boys," he said as he pulled from the stalk anear of corn that the hoofs of the Northern cavalry had failed totrample under. "Now this is a fine ear, a splendid ear, and if youboys search well you may be able to find others like it. All thingscome to him who looks long enough. Remember how Nebuchadnezzar ategrass, and he must have had to do some hunting too, because Iunderstand grass didn't grow very freely in that part of the world, andthen remember also that we are not down to grass yet. Corn, nuts andmaybe a stray pumpkin or two. 'Tis a repast fit for the gods, noblesirs."

  "I can go without, part of the time," said Harry, "but it hurts me tohave to hunt through a big field for a nubbin of corn and then feelhapp
y 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 thatproduces fifteen hundred bushels of wheat, but it's been a long timesince I've seen a shock of wheat."

  "Console yourself with the knowledge," said Harry, "that it's too latein 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, butoptimists find, often. Didn't I tell you so? Here's another ear."

  Harry had approached the edge of the field and he saw something redgleaming through a fringe of woods beyond. The experienced eye ofyouth 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. Iknow there is because I caught a glimpse of a red apple hanging from atree. I suppose the skirt of forest kept the Yankee raiders fromseeing 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 passed through the wood and entered a small orchard of not morethan half an acre. But it was filled with apple trees loaded with redapples, big juicy fellows, just ripened by the October sun. A littlebeyond the orchard in a clearing was a small log house, obviously thatof the owner of the orchard, and also obviously deserted. No smokerose from the chimneys, and windows and doors were nailed up. Theproprietor no doubt had gone with his family to some town and theapples would have rotted on the ground had the young officers not foundthem.

  "There must be bushels and bushels here," said St. Clair. "We'll fillup our sacks first and then call the other men."

  They had brought sacks with them for the corn, but the few ears theyhad found took up but little space.

  "I'll climb the trees, and shake 'em down," said Harry. He was up atree in an instant, all his boyhood coming back to him, and, as heshook with his whole strength, the red apples, held now by twigs nearlydead, rained down. They passed from tree to tree and soon their sackswere filled.

  "Now for the colonels," said St. Clair, "and on our way we'll tell theothers."

  Bending under the weight of the sacks, they took their course toward asnug cove in the first slope of the Massanuttons, hailing friends onthe way and sending them with swift steps toward the welcome orchard.They passed within the shadow of a grove, and then entered a small openspace, where two men sat on neighboring stumps, with an empty boxbetween them. Upon the box reposed a board of chessmen and atintervals the two intent players spoke.

  "If you expect to capture my remaining knight, Hector, you'll have tohurry. We march tomorrow."

  "I can't be hurried, Leonidas. This is an intellectual game, and ifit's played properly it demands time. If I don't take your remainingknight before tomorrow I'll take him a month from now, after thiscampaign 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'syour move."

  The two gray heads bent so low over the narrow board that they almosttouched. For a little space the campaign, the war, and all theirhardships floated away from them, their minds absorbed thoroughly inthe 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 heapproached them with the heavy sack of apples upon his back.

  Harry's affection for both of the colonels was strong and as he lookedat them he realized more than ever their utter unworldliness. He,although a youth, saw that they belonged to a passing era, but in theirvery unworldliness lay their attraction. He knew that whatever thefortunes of the war, they would, if they lived, prove good citizensafter its close. All rancor--no, not rancor, because they feltnone--rather all hostility would be buried on the battlefield, and thefriend whom they would be most anxious to see and welcome was JohnCarrington, the great Northern artilleryman, who had done their causeso much damage.

  He opened his sack and let the red waterfall of apples pour down attheir feet. Startled by the noise, they looked up, despite a criticalsituation on the board. Then they looked down again at the scarletheap upon the grass, and, powerful though the attractions of chesswere, they were very hungry men, and the shining little pyramid heldtheir 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 asbare as the palm of my hand. It's only an idle dream, Leonidas. I wasdeceived by it myself, for a moment, but we will not yield any longerto such weakness. Come, we will return to our game, where every movehas now become vital."

  "But it isn't a dream, sir! It's real!" exclaimed Harry joyfully. "Wefound an abandoned orchard, and it was just filled with 'em. Helpyourselves!"

  The colonels put away their chessmen, remembering well where every onehad stood, and fell on with the appetites of boys. Other officers, andthen soldiers who were made welcome, joined them. Harry and Dalton,after having eaten their share, were walking along the slope of themountain, when they heard the sound of a shot. It seemed to come froma dense thicket, and, as no Northern skirmishers could be near, theircuriosity caused them to rush forward. When they entered the thicketthey heard Langdon's voice raised in a shout of triumph.

  "I got him! I got him!" he cried. Then they heard a heavy slidingsound, as of something being dragged, and the young South Carolinianappeared, pulling after him by its hind legs a fine hog which he hadshot through the head.

  "It was fair game," he cried, as he saw his friends. "Piggy here wasmasterless, roaming around the woods feeding on nuts until he was fatand juicy! My, how good he will taste! At first I thought he was abear, 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 obtainit. 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 colonelssat. A half dozen experts quickly dressed the animal, and theInvincibles 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 coalsover which the hog had been roasted in sections, "that those who lookhard generally discover, that is, 'seek and ye shall find.' It's theoptimists who arrive. Your pessimist quits before he comes to theapple trees, or before he reaches the thicket that conceals the finefat 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 ofresponsibility," said Dalton. "I'd rather be unhappy than have anempty head."

  "Oh, it's just jealous you are, George Dalton. Born with a sourdisposition 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 wetolerate 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 Southwestpromising big things, and he certainly does have great skill in theforest, but our officers don't like his looks. Nor did I. If therewas ever a thorough villain I'm sure he's one. I've heard that he'sdrawn 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 withanother band has joined him," said Happy.

  "What's his name?" asked Harry with sudden interest.

  "Skelly, I think, Bill Skelly." br />
  "Why, I know that fellow! He comes from the hills back of our town ofPendleton, and he claimed to be on the Union side. He and his bandfired upon me at the very opening of the war."

  "If you are not careful he'll be firing upon you again. He may havestarted out as a Union man, but he's shifting around now, I fancy, tosuit his own plundering and robbing forces. We'll hear of theiroperations later, and it won't be a pretty story."

  They talked of many things, and after a while Harry and St. Clair weresent with a message to the crest of Three Top Mountain, where theConfederate signal station was located, and from which the Unionofficers had taken the dispatch about the coming of Longstreet with astrong force. Both were fully aware of the great movement contemplatedby Early and their minds now went back to march and battle.

  The climb up the mountain was pleasant to such muscles and sinews astheirs, and they stopped at intervals to look over the valley, now agreat desolation, until nature should come again with her healingtouch. Harry smothered a sigh as he recalled their early and wonderfulvictories there, and the tremendous marches with the invincibleStonewall. Old Jack, as he sat somewhere with Washington and Cromwelland all the group of the mighty, must feel sad when he looked down uponthis, his beloved valley, now trodden into a ruin by the heel of theinvader.

  He resolutely put down the choking in his throat, and would not let St.Clair see his emotion. They reached the signal station, which at thathour was in charge of a young officer named Mortimer, but little olderthan themselves. They delivered to him their message and stood by,while he talked with flags to another station on the opposite mountain.Harry watched curiously although he could read none of the signals.

  "This is our only newspaper and I can't read it," he said when Mortimerhad finished. "What's the news?"

  "There's a lot of it, and it's heavy with importance," replied Mortimer.

  "Tell us a bit of it, can't you?"

  "Sheridan has left his army and gone north. That's one bit."

  "What?"

  "It's so. We know absolutely, and we've signaled it to General Early.But we don't know why he has gone."

  "That is important."

  "It surely is, and he's taken his cavalry with him. Our men have seenthe troops riding northward. Since Sheridan went away, the Unioncommander, whoever he is, has been strengthening his right, fearing anattack there, since he learned of our reappearance in the valley."

  "Therefore General Early will attack on the left?"

  "Correct. You can see now the value of signal stations like ours. Wecan look down upon the enemy and see his movements. Then we know whatto do."

  "And what have they on their left?" asked Harry. "Do you know that,too?"

  "Of course. General Crook with two divisions is there. He has CedarCreek in front of him, and on his own left the north fork of theShenandoah. He's considerably in front of the main Union force, andthey haven't posted much of a picket line."

  "I suppose they're relying upon the natural strength of the ground."

  "That's it, I take it, but we may give them a surprise."

  Harry and Dalton used their glasses and far to the north they saw dimfigures, not larger than toys. At first view they appeared to bestationary, but, as the eyes became used to the distance, Harry knewthey were moving. Apparently they were infantry going toward the Unionright, where danger was feared, and he felt a grim satisfaction inknowing that the real danger lay on their left. But could Early withhis small numbers, with the habit now of defeat, make any impressionupon the large Union armies flushed with victories?

  Harry wondered if Dick was among those moving troops, but his secondthought told him it was not likely. They had learned from spies thatthe Winchester regiment was mounted, and in all probability it was partof the cavalry that had gone north with Sheridan. But he thought againhow strange it was that the two should have been face to face at theSecond Manassas, and then after a wide separation, involving so manygreat battles and marches, should come here into the Valley ofVirginia, face to face once more.

  Mortimer and his assistants presently began to manipulate the flagsagain, and Confederate signalmen, on a far peak, replied. Harry andSt. Clair watched them with all the curiosity that a mystery inspires.

  "Can we ask again," said Harry, when they had finished, "what youfellows were saying?"

  Mortimer laughed.

  "It was a quick dialogue," he replied, "but it was intended for theYankees down in the valley, who, we learn, have deciphered some of oursignals. I said to Strother on the other peak: 'Six thousand?' Hereplied: 'No, eight thousand!' I said: 'In center or on their rightflank?' He replied: 'On their right flank.' I said: 'Two thousandfresh horses?' He replied: 'Nearer twenty-five hundred.' I said:'Five hundred fresh beeves from the other side of the Blue Ridge.' Hereplied: 'Great news, we need 'em!' I wish it was true, but it willset our Yankee friends to thinking."

  "I see. Your talk was meant to fool the Yankees."

  "Yes, and we need to fool 'em as much as we can. It's a daring venturethat we're entering upon, but it's great luck for us to have Sheridanaway. It looks like a good omen to me."

  "And to me, too. We used to say that Old Jack was an army corps, andhe was, two of them for that matter. Then Sheridan is worth at leastten thousand men to the Yankees. Good-by, we'd like to see more ofyour work with the flags, but down below they need Captain St. Clair,who is a terrible fighter. We can't hope to beat the Yankees with St.Clair away."

  Mortimer smiled, waved them farewell, and, a few minutes later, was atwork once more with the flags. Meanwhile, Harry and St. Clair weredescending the mountain, pausing now and then to survey the valley withtheir glasses, where they could yet mark the movements of the Northerntroops. When they reached the cove they found that the board and thechess men were put away, and the two colonels were inspecting theInvincibles to see that the last detail was done, while Early madeready for his desperate venture.

  Harry and his comrades were fully conscious that it was a forlorn hope.They had been driven out of the valley once by superior numbers andequipment, directed by a leader of great skill and energy, but now theyhad come back to risk everything in a daring venture. The Unionforces, of course, knew of their presence in the old lines aboutFisher's Hill--Shepard alone was sufficient to warn them of it--butthey could scarcely expect an attack by a foe of small numbers, alreadydefeated several times.

  Harry's thought of Shepard set him to surmising. The spy no longerpresented himself to his mind as a foe to be hated. Rather, he was anofficial enemy whom he liked. He even remembered with a smile theirlong duel when Lee was retreating from Gettysburg, and particularlytheir adventure in the river. Would that duel between them be renewed?Intuition told him that Shepard was in the valley, and if Sheridan wasworth ten thousand men the spy was worth at least a thousand.

  The Invincibles were ready to the last man, and it did not require anygreat counting to reach the last. Yet the two colonels, as they rodebefore their scanty numbers, held themselves as proudly as ever, andthe hearts of their young officers, in spite of all the odds, began tobeat high with hope. The advance was to be made after dark, and theirpulses were leaping as the twilight came, and then the night.

  The march of the Southern army to deal its lightning stroke wasprepared well, and, fortunately for it, a heavy fog came up late in thenight from the rivers and creeks of the valley to cover its movementsand hide the advancing columns from its foe. When Harry felt the damptouch of the vapor on his face his hopes rose yet higher. He knew thatweather, fog, rain, snow and flooding rivers played a great part in thefortunes of war. Might not the kindly fog, encircling them with itsprotection, be a good omen?

  "Chance favors us," he said to St. Clair and Langdon, as the fog grewthicker and thicker, almost veiling their faces from one another.

  "I told you that the optimists usually had their way," said Happy. "Wepersisted and found that orchard of apples. We persisted and foundthat fat po
rker. Now, I have been wishing for this fog, and I kept onwishing for it until it came."

  Harry laughed.

  "You do make the best of things, Happy," he said.

  The fog thickened yet more, but the Invincibles made their sure waythrough it, the different portions of the army marching in perfectcoordination. Gordon led three divisions of infantry, supported by abrigade of cavalry across the Shenandoah River and marched east ofFisher's Hill. Then he went along the slope of the Massanuttons,recrossed the river, and silently came in behind the left flank of theUnion force under Crook.

  Early himself, with two divisions of infantry and all the artillery,marched straight toward Cedar Creek, where he would await the sound offiring to tell him that Gordon had completed his great circlingmovement. Then he would push forward with all his might, and he andGordon appearing suddenly out of the fog and dark would strike sledgehammer blows from different sides at the surprised Union army. It wasa conception worthy of Old Jack himself, although there was lessstrength with which to deal the blows.

  The Invincibles were with Early, and they arrived in position beforeCedar Creek long before Gordon could complete his wide flankingmovement. Both artillery and infantry were up, and there was nothingfor them to do but wait. The officers dismounted and naturally thosewho led the Invincibles kept close together. The wait was long.Midnight came, and then the hours after it passed one by one.

  It was late in the year, the eighteenth of October, and the night waschill. The heavy fog which hung low made it chillier. Harry as hestood by his horse felt it cold and damp on his face, but it was a truefriend for all that. Whether Happy wishing for the fog had made itcome or not they could have found no better aid.

  He could not see far, but out of the vapors came the sound of menmoving, because they were restless and could not help it. He heard toothe murmur of voices, and now and then the clank of a cannon, as it wasadvanced a little. More time passed. It was the hour when it would benearly dawn on a clear day, and thousands of hearts leaped as the soundof shots came from a distant point out of the fog.