CHAPTER XXXI
THROUGH THE ENEMY'S LINES
The turn of affairs had been so sudden that Major Deck Lyon had hadhardly time enough to arrange any plan for escaping, now the chance toget away was presented. Up to the time Tom Derwiddie had spoken to himso confidentially he had not dreamed that he had a friend so close athand and one who was willing to do so much for him. Saving theConfederate's life at the burning cotton mill had been a generous actionthat was bearing splendid fruit, of which the major was destined to reapthe full benefit.
Deck had no idea where the road he was taking led to, but he imaginedthat it would take him into the forest some distance beyond, and theshelter of this heavy growth of timber would be far more acceptable thanwould be a pursuit in the open.
Fortunately, the three horses were used to travelling together, so therewas no hitch here, and the speed made by all three was very good. Whenthe corn-crib was passed, Deck found himself passing through a stubblefield, but this was less than two hundred yards in length.
But, short as was the distance, it was not yet fully covered, whenMessinger appeared at the doorway of the farmhouse and gave the alarm.He could not see Derwiddie lying on the ground, but he could see Deck,and without pausing to think twice, he raised his pistol and firedseveral shots in rapid succession.
Had the distance been less, or had Deck been standing still, he mighthave been seriously wounded, for the second shot glanced along his thighand struck the horse he was riding in the fore-quarter. The horsestaggered and fell, and it was only by a quick leap that the young Unionofficer saved himself from being trampled under the beast's hoofs.
Alarmed by the injury to their mate, the remaining horses gave a snortand a bound and started to run. Deck tried to hold them, but was takenoff his feet. Rather than be dragged along the ground, he released thereins, and like a flash the two animals left him to his fate.
All this had taken less time than it takes to relate it. Seeing theeffect of his shot, Messinger yelled to Chador, and both ran forth fromthe house on a dead run, straight for where Deck lay.
As the major sprang up, bruised and covered with dust, he realized thata crisis was at hand and that he must do something or stand the chanceof recapture. Luckily he had retained hold of the pistol Derwiddie hadgiven him, and raising this he fired on Messinger, who was several yardsin advance of his companion.
As we know, Deck had practised a good deal with a pistol, and althoughthe present weapon was not of the latest pattern, it could shootstraight, and Deck's aim was as correct as the shooting qualities of thefirearm. The crack of the pistol had hardly died away than Messingergave a yell and began to dance around in awful anguish, the bullethaving taken off the thumb and first finger of his left hand and cut apath over two of his ribs.
Seeing his companion struck, Chador came to a sudden halt; and whenDeck prepared to fire again, the cavalryman lost no time in seeking theshelter of a slight rise of ground in the centre of the stubble field.He threw himself flat, and then Messinger did the same.
"I wonder where Tom is?" asked Chador, as he looked ahead, to see thatDeck had turned once more and was speeding toward the woods.
"I don't know," groaned the leader of the Confederates. "Oh, my hand! Imust go back to the house and have it attended to." And he started back,having, for the time being, lost all interest in going after theescaping prisoner.
Unwilling to make the pursuit alone, especially in the face of what hadoccurred, Chador concluded to fill in his time hunting up Derwiddie. Atthe fork in the road he found the man lying where he had fallen, theblood covering his forehead and one cheek.
"By gum! he's knocked out sure!" exclaimed Chador; and, getting down, heplaced his hand to Derwiddie's heart. Of course it beat as strongly asever, and, learning this, Chador ran for some water. As soon as thewater was being used, Derwiddie began to groan and opened his eyes.
"Where--where is he?" he moaned.
"He got away," answered Chador. "How did it happen?"
"Don't ask me," moaned Derwiddie. "Oh, the villain! Where is Messinger?Why don't you stop him?"
"Messinger is shot in the hand, and the fellow skipped for the wood. Isee he took your pistol."
"That's so." Derwiddie gave another groan. "Carry me to the house, willyou, Bob? Oh, what an upsetting all around!"
Chador took up the man supposed to be "knocked out," and soon had himcomfortable on a lounge in the sitting room of the farmhouse. In themeantime, Messinger was having two women folks care for his injuredhand. When he felt better, Derwiddie told a long story of Deck's attackon him. "He was as strong as an ox, I couldn't do anything with him," hesaid; and he likewise declared himself altogether too weak to take partin any pursuit, so Chador was despatched to give the alarm to anysoldiers or cavalry he might run across in the neighborhood.
As soon as Messinger and Chador fell in the stubble field, Major Lyonturned and continued on his way to the forest. The timber was soonreached, and, without loss of time, he made his way among the trees fora distance of several hundred feet. Deeming himself now safe for thetime being, he sat down on a fallen log to catch his breath and considerwhat would be the next best move to make.
The darkness of night was beginning to fall over the vast battlefield;and under the trees with their dense foliage, but little could be seen.Deck listened attentively, but the only sounds which reached his earswere the shrill cries of the birds, who were terrorized by thelong-continued booming of cannons and sharp cracking of musketry.Occasionally the roar of a battery could be heard, or a shot from thecreek; but these were gradually dying away altogether, for both armieswere worn out through fighting and because of forced marches over theuneven ground, and they were willing to leave the remainder of thecontest for another day.
Deck felt that his position was very trying, for more reasons than onewould readily imagine. In the first place, the wood was large anddense, and wild animals were still to be hunted there,--and theyoccasionally did a little hunting on their own account. To meet awildcat or a bear, or even a rattlesnake, would prove far from anagreeable experience.
The wood was large, but it was entirely surrounded by open fields, andthe major had every reason to believe that some Confederate troops layback of them. As a matter of fact, nearly the whole of Breckinridge'scommand were encamped less than half a mile away.
The distance to Chickamauga Creek was between a quarter and a half of amile, and how much of shelter lay in that direction was a problem stillto be solved. One thing was certain; if he wished to get over the creekand into the Union lines again, the attempt must be made that night, andhe must trust to luck to find his way, although, to be sure, the nightwas fair, and Deck had some knowledge of the stars and how to read theheavens.
Ten minutes passed in which time Deck made not the slightest sound. Noone had come after him, and he rightfully guessed that he was safe forthe time being. He waited a little longer and then placing the pistolin his belt, advanced cautiously through the forest in the direction hecalculated the creek must be located.
Presently a gleam of light reached his view, coming from a small hollow.He crept forward noiselessly until he reached a fringe of bushesbounding the hollow. From this point he beheld half a dozen Confederatesoldiers sitting around a small camp-fire, broiling a chicken spitted ona bayonet. They were a merry crowd, and cracked many a joke in a lowtone as they waited for the dainty morsel to become done.
Deck did not view this scene long. Instead, he made a detour andcontinued on his way until he came to a small brook. Here he stopped fora much-needed drink. The brook was almost stationary, but a chip throwninto the water showed him in which way it was flowing, and, taking itfor granted that the watercourse emptied itself into the Chickamauga, hedecided to follow its fairly straight direction.
He was proceeding along with increased confidence, when suddenly a negrovoice sounded upon his ear, coming from a road which crossed the brook.A colored man was coming along, bringing with him half a dozen cavalryhors
es that needed watering. The fellow seemed free from care and sang"Dixie" with rare musical ability.
Not having time to cross the road before the colored man arrived, themajor drew back, thinking to make another detour, behind or in front ofman and animals. He wished very much that he had one of the horses, butto gain one by force, he felt might lead to discovery and capture.
The horses were very thirsty, and crowded for the brook in a bunch.There were several black chargers, one of white, and one of gray. Asthey came closer Deck could not help but notice that they were all infirst-class condition, quite in contrast to many Confederate mounts hehad seen.
"Ceph! By all that's wonderful!"
The words burst from the major's lips ere he had time to realize theinjudiciousness of his remarks. He had caught sight of his own preciousanimal, Ceph, who had been stolen from him while he was up in a tree atthe battle between the rocky defile and the swamp in Alabama. For themoment he could scarcely credit his eyesight.
But if he wanted extra proof that it was really Ceph he was gazing upon,the noble steed furnished it himself. At the sound of Deck's voice hepricked up his ears and raised his head. Then he left the bunch ofhorses and rushed straight for the young major and rubbed his soft noseaffectionately upon Deck's neck.
"Good, faithful old Ceph!" Deck could not help saying. "Where in theworld have you been? Oh, how I have missed you! They shan't take youagain, not if I can help it!" And he leaped into the saddle.
"Wha--what do dis mean, massa?" stammered the negro. "What right habyou-un to dat hoss?"
"Every right in the world, Sambo," answered Deck. "The horse belongs tome, don't you, Ceph?"
For answer Ceph gave a low snort of satisfaction.
"Belong to yo'? I fink dat's a mistake, massa. Dat am Captain Loring'shoss, fo' suah," and the colored man shook his head decidedly. Then ashe came close enough to note what uniform Deck was wearing, he gave agasp of horror. "Fo' pity sake, massa, is you-un a--a Yankee?"
"Yes, I am, Sambo, and I want you to keep your mouth shut about this,"replied Deck, sternly. "The horse is mine and always was mine, and I amgoing to ride off on him. If you make any outcry I will shoot you."
"Don't go fo' to do dat, massa orsifer!" came with a shiver. "I won'tsay a single word, 'deed I won't. But--but who's to take the'sponsibility when Captain Loring find dat hoss ain't heah no mo'?"
"You'll be telling the truth when you say he got away from you,Sambo,--for he did get away just now. Is this the way to Hall's Ford?"
"No, massa; dat's de way to Lee and Gordon's Mill."
"I don't know whether to believe you or not," said Deck, simply in orderto get the negro "mixed." "I guess I'll find Breckinridge's campsomewhere around here. Now I'm off. If you give the alarm, remember,I'll come back and put half a dozen bullets through your body."
"Won't say a word, massa orsifer," returned the negro in a more shakyvoice than ever.
"Very well, you'll be safe then--but not otherwise," concluded Deck, andcontinued on his way down the brook.
He passed along as rapidly as Ceph could travel over the rocks and dirt,keeping to the brook just so long as the negro remained in sight. Assoon as the colored man was lost to view, he turned at right angles tothe direction he had been travelling, to throw any possible pursuer offthe trail.
Having left the brook which had been his guide, the major found it noeasy matter to set himself right again concerning the direction ofChickamauga Creek. The way was dark and uncertain, and it was not untileleven o'clock that he came out at a point where a ledge of rock severalyards in height overlooked the stream that divided the armies of theNorth and the South.
All was quiet; so quiet that one would imagine the neighborhooddeserted. But Major Lyon was not to be taken unawares, and leading Cephback into the brush, he made a survey of the situation on foot.Presently he found a safe path into the stream, with no picket guardswithin a hundred feet on either side. This just suited him, and in a fewminutes more, horse and rider were braving the current of the rollingChickamauga.
"Ceph could swim well, but not noiselessly, and they had not advancedover fifty feet before a command came out of the darkness from down thecreek.
"Who is that out there? Speak, or I will fire!"
"What's that?" called back the major, at the same time urging Cephforward, and up the stream.
"Who are you?"
"A friend."
"Come back here then and give the countersign."
"I can give you that without coming back," went on Deck, and did so,speaking just loud enough for his questioner to hear him.
"What are you doing out there?" went on the picket, only half satisfied.
"I am bound for the other shore to pick up some information."
"Who are you?"
"Have you ever heard of Captain Brentford, of General Bragg's staff?"
"You bet I have," was the quick return. "If it's you, Captain, it's allright, and I wish you luck," and then the picket relapsed into silence.He had once met Captain Brentford personally, and was greatly pleased tohave the supposed spy take him into his confidence.
Much relieved, Major Lyon continued on his way, and in five minutes theChickamauga had been crossed and he was on his way to find his command.Were it not for going too far into his confidence, we could state thathe felt like hugging both himself and Ceph over their combined escape.