PART ONE
WHAT SHE WAS
I
NONCOMBATANTS
About five o'clock that evening a Rhode Island battery clanked throughthe village and parked six dusty guns in a pasture occupied by someastonished cows.
A little later the cavalry arrived, riding slowly up the tree-shadedstreet, escorted by every darky and every dog in the country-side.
The clothing of this regiment was a little out of the ordinary. Insteadof the usual campaign head gear the troopers wore forage caps strappedunder their chins, heavy visors turned down, and their officers wereconspicuous in fur-trimmed hussar tunics slung from the shoulders ofdark-blue shell jackets; but most unusual and most interesting of all, amounted cavalry band rode ahead, led by a bandmaster who sat his horselike a colonel of regulars--a slim young man with considerable yellowand gold on his faded blue sleeves, and an easy manner of swingingforward his heavy cut-and-thrust sabre as he guided the column throughthe metropolitan labyrinths of Sandy River.
Sandy River had seen and scowled at Yankee cavalry before, but neverbefore had the inhabitants had an opportunity to ignore a mounted bandand bandmaster. There was, of course, no cheering; a handkerchieffluttered from a gallery here and there, but Sandy River was loyal onlyin spots, and the cavalry pressed past groups of silent people,encountering the averted heads or scornful eyes of young girls and thecold hatred in the faces of gray-haired gentlewomen, who turned theirbacks as the ragged guidons bobbed past and the village street rang withthe clink-clank of scabbards and rattle of Spencer carbines.
But there was a small boy on a pony who sat entranced as theweather-ravaged squadrons trampled by. Cap in hand, straight in hissaddle, he saluted the passing flag; a sunburnt trooper called out:"That's right, son! Bully for you!"
The boy turned his pony and raced along the column under a running fireof approving chaff from the men, until he came abreast of the bandmasteronce more, at whom he stared with fascinated and uncloyed satisfaction.
Into a broad common wheeled the cavalry; the boy followed on his pony,guiding the little beast in among the mounted men, edging as close aspossible to the bandmaster, who had drawn bridle and wheeled his showyhorse abreast of a group of officers. When the boy had crowded up asclose as possible to the bandmaster he sat in silence, blissfullydrinking in the splendors of that warrior's dusty apparel.
"I'm right glad you-all have come," ventured the boy.
The bandmaster swung round in his saddle and saw a small sun-tanned faceand two wide eyes intently fixed on his.
"I reckon you don't know how glad my sister and I are to see you downhere," said the boy politely. "When are you going to have a battle?"
"A battle!" repeated the bandmaster.
"Yes, sir. You're going to fight, of course, aren't you?"
"Not if people leave us alone--and leave that railroad alone," repliedthe officer, backing his restive horse to the side of the fence as thetroopers trotted past into the meadow, fours crowding closely on fours.
"Not fight?" exclaimed the boy, astonished. "Isn't there going to be abattle?"
"I'll let you know when there's going to be one," said the bandmasterabsently.
"You won't forget, will you?" inquired the boy. "My name is WilliamStuart Westcote, and I live in that house." He pointed with his ridingwhip up the hill. "You won't forget, will you?"
"No, child, I won't forget."
"My sister Celia calls me Billy; perhaps you had better just ask her forBilly if I'm not there when you gallop up to tell me--that is, if you'recoming yourself. Are you?" he ended wistfully.
"Do you want me to come?" inquired the bandmaster, amused.
"Would you really come?" cried the boy. "Would you really come to visitme?"
"I'll consider it," said the bandmaster gravely.
"Do you think you could come to-night?" asked the boy. "We'd certainlybe glad to see you--my sister and I. Folks around here like the Mallettsand the Colvins and the Garnetts don't visit us any more, and it'slonesome sometimes."
"I think that you should ask your sister first," suggested thebandmaster.
"Why? She's loyal!" exclaimed the boy earnestly. "Besides, you're comingto visit _me_, I reckon. Aren't you?"
"Certainly," said the bandmaster hastily.
"To-night?"
"I'll do my best, Billy."
The boy held out a shy hand; the officer bent from his saddle and tookit in his soiled buckskin gauntlet.
"Good night, my son," he said, without a smile, and rode off into themeadow among a crowd of troopers escorting the regimental wagons.
A few moments later a child on a pony tore into the weed-grown driveleading to the great mansion on the hill, scaring a lone darky who hadbeen dawdling among the roses.
"'Clar' tu goodness, Mars Will'm, I done tuk you foh de Black HossCav'ly!" said the ancient negro reproachfully. "Hi! Hi! Wha' foh you mekall dat fuss an' a-gwine-on?"
"Oh, Mose!" cried the boy, "I've seen the Yankee cavalry, and they havea horse band, and I rode with them, and I asked a general when they weregoing to have a battle, and the general said he'd let me know!"
"Gin'ral?" demanded the old darky suspiciously; "who dat gin'ral datgwine tell you 'bout de battle? Was he drivin' de six-mule team, or washe dess a-totin' a sack o' co'n? Kin you splain dat, Mars Will'm?"
"Don't you think I know a general when I see one?" exclaimed the boyscornfully. "He had yellow and gilt on his sleeves, and he carried asabre, and he rode first of all. And--oh, Mose! He's coming here to payme a visit! Perhaps he'll come to-night; he said he would if he could."
"Dat gin'ral 'low he gwine come here?" muttered the darky. "Spec' youbetter see Miss Celia 'fo' you ax dis here gin'ral."
"I'm going to ask her now," said the boy. "She certainly will be glad tosee one of our own men. Who cares if all the niggers have run off? We'renot ashamed--and, anyhow, you're here to bring in the decanters for thegeneral."
"Shoo, honey, you might talk dat-a-way ef yo' pa wuz in de house,"grumbled the old man. "Ef hit's done fix, nobody kin onfix it. But dessyo' leave dem gin'rals whar dey is nex' time, Mars Will'm. Hit wuz agin'ral dat done tuk de Dominiker hen las' time de blueco'ts come toSan' River."
The boy, sitting entranced in reverie, scarcely heard him; and it wasonly when a far trumpet blew from the camp in the valley that he startedin his saddle and raised his rapt eyes to the windows. Somebody had hungout a Union flag over the jasmine-covered portico.
"There it is! There it is, Mose!" he cried excitedly, scrambling fromhis saddle. "Here--take the bridle! And the very minute you hear thegeneral dashing into the drive, let me know!"
He ran jingling up the resounding veranda--he wore his father'sspurs--and mounted the stairs, two at a jump, calling: "Celia! Celia!You'll be glad to know that a general who is a friend of mine----"
"Hush, Billy," said his sister, checking him on the landing and leadinghim out to the gallery from which the flag hung; "can't you rememberthat grandfather is asleep by sundown? Now--what is it, dear, you wishto tell me?"
"Oh, I forgot; truly I did, Celia--but a general is coming to visit meto-night, if you can possibly manage it, and I'm so glad you hung outthe flag--and Moses can serve the Madeira, can't he?"
"What general?" inquired his sister uneasily. And her brother'sexplanations made matters no clearer. "You remember what the Yankeecavalry did before," she said anxiously. "You must be careful, Billy,now that the quarters are empty and there's not a soul in the placeexcept Mose."
"But, Celia! the general is a gentleman. I shook hands with him!"
"Very well, dear," she said, passing one arm around his neck and leaningforward over the flag. The sun was dipping between a cleft in thehills, flinging out long rosy beams across the misty valley. The mockingbirds had ceased, but a thrasher was singing in a tangle of Cherokeeroses under the western windows.
While they stood there the sun dipped so low that nothing remainedexcept a glowing scarlet rim.
"Hark!" whis
pered the boy. Far away an evening gunshot set soft echoestumbling from hill to hill, distant, more distant. Strains of thecavalry band rose in the evening silence, "The Star Spangled Banner"floating from the darkening valley. Then silence; and presently a low,sweet thrush note from the dusky garden.
It was after supper, when the old darky had lighted the dips--therebeing no longer any oil or candles to be had--that the thrush, who hadbeen going into interminable ecstasies of fluty trills, suddenly becamemute. A jingle of metal sounded from the garden, a step on the porch, avoice inquiring for Mr. Westcote; and old Mose replying with reproachfuldignity: "Mars Wes'cote, suh? Mars Wes'cote daid, suh."
"That's my friend, the general!" exclaimed Billy, leaping from hischair. "Mose, you fool nigger, why don't you ask the general to comein?" he whispered fiercely; then, as befitted the master of the house,he walked straight out into the hall, small hand outstretched, welcominghis guest as he had seen his father receive a stranger of distinction."I am so glad you came," he said, crimson with pleasure. "Moses willtake your cap and cloak-- Mose!"
The old servant shuffled forward, much impressed by the uniform revealedas the long blue mantle fell across his own ragged sleeve.
"Do you know why I came, Billy?" asked the bandmaster, smiling.
"I reckon it was because you promised to, wasn't it?" inquired thechild.
"Certainly," said the bandmaster hastily. "And I promised to comebecause I have a brother about your age--'way up in New York. Shall wesit here on the veranda and talk about him?"
"First," said the boy gravely, "my sister Celia will receive you."
He turned, leading the way to the parlor with inheritedself-possession; and there, through the wavering light of a tallow dip,the bandmaster saw a young girl in black rising from a chair by thecenter table; and he brought his spurred heels together and bowed hisvery best bow.
"My brother," she said, "has been so anxious to bring one of ourofficers here. Two weeks ago the Yan--the Federal cavalry passedthrough, chasing Carrington's Horse out of Oxley Court House, but therewas no halt here." She resumed her seat with a gesture toward a chairopposite; the bandmaster bowed again and seated himself, placing hissabre between his knees.
"Our cavalry advance did not behave very well in Oxley," he said.
"They took a few chickens _en passant_," she said, smiling; "but hadthey asked for them we would have been glad to give. We are loyal, youknow."
"Those gay jayhawkers were well disciplined for that business whenStannard took them over," said the bandmaster grimly. "Had they behavedthemselves, we should have had ten friends here where we have one now."
The boy listened earnestly. "Would you please tell me," he asked,"whether you have decided to have a battle pretty soon?"
"I don't decide such matters," said the bandmaster, laughing.
"Why, I thought a general could always have a battle when he wanted to!"insisted the boy, surprised.
"But I'm not a general, Billy," replied the young fellow, coloring. "Didyou think I was?"
"My brother's ideas are very vague," said his sister quickly; "anyofficer who fights is a general to him."
"I'm sorry," said the bandmaster, looking at the child, "but do youknow, I am not even a fighting officer? I am only the regimentalbandmaster, Billy--a noncombatant."
For an instant the boy's astonished disappointment crushed out hisinbred courtesy as host. His sister, mortified but self-possessed, brokethe strained silence with a quiet question or two concerning the newlyarrived troops; and the bandmaster replied, looking at the boy.
Billy, silent, immersed in reflection, sat with curly head bent andhands folded on his knees. His sister glanced at him, looked furtivelyat the bandmaster, and their eyes met. He smiled, and she returned thesmile; and he looked at Billy and smiled again.
"Billy," he said, "I've been sailing under false colors, it seems--butyou hoisted them. I think I ought to go."
The boy looked up at him, startled.
"Good night," said the bandmaster gravely, rising to his lean heightfrom the chair beside the table. The boy flushed to his hair.
"Don't go," he said; "I like you even if you don't fight!"
Then the bandmaster began to laugh, and the boy's sister bit her lip andlooked at her brother.
"Billy! Billy!" she said, catching his hands in hers, "do you think theonly brave men are those who gallop into battle?"
Hands imprisoned in his sister's, he looked up at the bandmaster.
"If you were ordered to fight, you'd fight, wouldn't you?" he asked.
"Under those improbable circumstances I think I might," admitted theyoung fellow, solemnly reseating himself.
"Celia! Do you hear what he says?" cried the boy.
"I hear," said his sister gently. "Now sit very still while Moses servesthe Madeira; only half a glass for Mr. William, Moses--no, not one dropmore!"
Moses served the wine with pomp and circumstance; the lean youngbandmaster looked straight at the boy's sister and rose, bowing with agrace that instantly entranced the aged servant.
"Celia," said the boy, "we must drink to the flag, you know;" and theyoung girl rose from her chair, and, looking at the bandmaster, touchedher lips to the glass.
"I wish they could see us," said the boy, "--the Colvins and theMalletts. I've heard their 'Bonnie Blue Flag' and their stirrup toastsuntil I'm sick----"
"Billy!" said his sister quietly. And reseating herself and turning tothe bandmaster, "Our neighbors differ with us," she said, "and mybrother cannot understand it. I have to remind him that if they were notbrave men our army would have been victorious, and there would have beenno more war after Bull Run."
The bandmaster assented thoughtfully. Once or twice his worn eyes sweptthe room--a room that made him homesick for his own. It had been a longtime since he had sat in a chair in a room like this--a long time sincehe had talked with women and children. Perhaps the boy's sister divinedsomething of his thoughts--he was not much older than she--for, as herose, hooking up his sabre, and stepped forward to take his leave, shestood up, too, offering her hand.
"Our house is always open to Union soldiers," she said simply. "Will youcome again?"
"Thank you," he said. "You don't know, I think, how much you havealready done for me."
They stood a moment looking at one another; then he bowed and turned tothe boy, who caught his hand impulsively.
"I knew my sister would like you!" he exclaimed.
"Everybody is very kind," said the young bandmaster, looking steadily atthe boy.
Again he bowed to the boy's sister, not raising his eyes this time; and,holding the child's hand tightly in his, he walked out to the porch.
Moses was there to assist him with his long blue mantle; the boy clungto his gloved hand a moment, then stepped back into the doorway, wherethe old servant shuffled about, muttering half aloud: "Yaas, suh. Donetole you so. He bow lak de quality, he drink lak de Garnetts--what Itole yo'? Mars Will'm, ef dat ossifer ain' er gin'ral, he gwine bemighty quick!"
"I don't care," said the boy, "I just love him."
The negro shuffled out across the moonlit veranda, peered around throughthe fragrant gloom, wrinkled hands linked behind his back. Then hedescended the steps stiffly, and teetered about through the shrubberywith the instinct of a watchdog worn out in service.
"Nuff'n to scare nobody, scusin' de hoot owls," he muttered. "Spec'hit's time Miss Celia bolt de do', 'long o' de sodgers an' all degwines-on. Shoo! Hear dat fool chickum crow!" He shook his head, bentrheumatically, and seated himself on the veranda step, full in themoonlight. "All de fightin's an' de gwines-on 'long o' dis here wah!" hesoliloquized, joining his shriveled thumbs reflectively. "Whar de use?Spound dat! Whar all de fool niggers dat done skedaddle 'long o' deLinkum troopers? Splain dat!" He chuckled; a whip-poor-will answeredbreathlessly.
"Dar dat scan'lous widder bird a-hollerin'!" exclaimed the old man,listening. "'Pears lak we's gwine have moh wah, moh daid men, mohwidders. Dar de ha'nt! Da
r de sign an' de warnin'. G'way, widder bird."He crossed his withered fingers and began rocking to and fro, crooningsoftly to himself:
"Butterfly a-flyin' in de Chinaberry tree (Butterfly, flutter by!), Kitty gull a-cryin' on the sunset sea (Fly, li'l gull, fly high!), Bully bat a-follerin' de moon in de sky, Widder bird a-hollerin', 'Hi, dar! Hi!' Tree toad a-trillin' (Sleep, li'l honey! De moon cost a shillin' But we ain't got money!), Sleep, li'l honey, While de firefly fly, An' Chuck-Will's Widder holler, 'Hi, dar! Hi!'"
Before dawn the intense stillness was broken by the rushing music of thebirds--a careless, cheery torrent of song poured forth from bramble andwoodland. Distant and nearer cockcrows rang out above the melodioustumult, through which a low, confused undertone, scarcely apparent atfirst, was growing louder--the dull sound of the stirring of many men.
Men? The valley was suddenly alive with them, choking the roads in heavysilent lines; they were in the lanes, they plodded through the orchards,they swarmed across the hills, column on column, until the entirecountry seemed flowing forward in steady streams. Sandy River awoke,restlessly listening; lights glimmered behind darkened windows; aheavier, vaguer rumor grew, hanging along the hills. It increased to ashaking, throbbing monotone, like the far dissonance of summer thunder!
And now artillery was coming, bumping down the dim street with clatterof chain and harness jingling.
Up at the great house on the hill they heard it--the boy in his whitenightdress leaning from the open window, and his sleepy sister kneelingbeside him, pushing back her thick hair to peer out into the morningmist. On came the battery, thudding and clanking, horses on a longswinging trot, gun, caisson, forge, mounted artillerymen succeeding eachother, faster, faster under the windows. A guidon danced by; more guns,more caissons, then a trampling, plunging gallop, a rattle ofsabres--and the battery had passed.
"What is that heavy sound behind the hills?" whispered the boy.
"The river rushing over the shallows--perhaps a train on the trestle atOxley Court House--" She listened, resting her rounded chin on herhands. "It is thunder, I think. Go to bed now for a while----"
"Hark!" said the boy, laying his small hand on hers.
"It is thunder," she said again. "How white the dawn is growing. Listento the birds--is it not sweet?"
"Celia," whispered the boy, "that is not thunder. It is too hushed, toosteady--it hums and hums and hums. Where was that battery galloping? Iam going to dress."
She looked at him, turned to the east and stared at the coming day. Theair of dawn was full of sounds, ominous, sustained vibrations.
She rose, went back to her room, and lighted a dip. Then, shading thepallid smoky flame with her hand, she opened a door and peered into thenext bedroom. "Grandfather!" she whispered, smiling, seeing that he wasalready awake. And as she leaned over him, searching the dim andwrinkled eyes, she read something in their unwonted luster that struckher silent. It was only when she heard her brother's step on the stairsthat she roused herself, bent, and kissed the aged head lying thereinert among the pillows.
"It is cannon," she breathed softly--"you know that sound, don't you,grandfather? Does it make you happy? Why are you smiling? Look at me--Iunderstand; you want something. Shall I open the curtains? And raise thewindow? Ah, you wish to hear. Hark! Horsemen are passing at a gallop.What is it you wish--to see them? But they are gone, dear. If any of oursoldiers come, you shall see them. That makes you happy?--_that_ is whatyou desire?--to see one of our own soldiers? If they pass, I shall goout and bring one here to you--truly, I will." She paused, marveling atthe strange light that glimmered across the ravaged visage. Then sheblew out the dip and stole into the hall.
"Billy!" she called, hearing him fumbling at the front door.
"Oh, Celia! The cavalry trumpets! Do you hear? I'm going out. Perhaps_he_ may pass the house."
"Wait for me," she said; "I am not dressed. Run to the cabin and wakeMoses, dear!"
She heard him open the door; the deadened thunder of the cannonadefilled the house for an instant, shut out by the closing door, only toswell again to an immense unbroken volume of solemn harmony. Thebird-music had ceased; distant hilltops grew brighter.
Down in the village lights faded from window and cabin; a cavalryman,signaling from the church tower, whirled his flaming torch aside andpicked up a signal flag. Suddenly the crash of a rifled cannon salutedthe rising sun; a shell soared skyward through the misty glory, towered,curved, and fell, exploding among the cavalrymen, completely ruining thebreakfasts of chief-trumpeter O'Halloran and kettle-drummer Pillsbury.
For a moment a geyser of ashes, coffee, and bacon rained among the men.
"Hell!" said Pillsbury, furiously wiping his face with his drippingsleeve and spitting out ashes.
"Young kettle-drums, he don't love his vittles," observed a trooper,picking up the cap that had been jerked from his head by a whirringfragment.
"Rich feedin' is the sp'ilin' o' this here hoss band," added thefarrier, stanching the flow of blood from his scalp; "quit quar'lin'with your rations, kettle-drums!"
"Y'orter swaller them cinders," insisted another; "they don't costnothin'!"
The band, accustomed to chaffing, prepared to retire to the ambulance,where heretofore their fate had always left them among luggage,surgeons, and scared camp niggers during an engagement.
The Rhode Island battery, placed just north of the church, had opened;the cavalry in the meadow could see them--see the whirl of smoke, thecannoneers moving with quick precision amidst obscurity--the flash, therecoil as gun after gun jumped back, buried in smoke.
It lasted only a few minutes; no more shells came whistling down amongthe cavalry; and presently the battery grew silent, and the steaminghill, belted with vapor, cleared slowly in the breezy sunshine.
The cavalry had mounted and leisurely filed off to the shelter of agrassy hollow; the band, dismounted, were drawn up to be told off insquads as stretcher-bearers; the bandmaster was sauntering past, buriedin meditation, his sabre trailing a furrow through the dust, when aclatter of hoofs broke out along the village street, and a generalofficer, followed by a plunging knot of horsemen, tore up and drewbridle.
The colonel of the cavalry regiment, followed by the chief trumpeter,trotted out to meet them, saluting sharply; there was a quick exchangeof words; the general officer waved his hand toward the south, wheeledhis horse, hesitated, and pointed at the band.
"How many sabres?" he asked.
"Twenty-seven," replied the colonel--"no carbines."
"Better have them play you in--_if you go_," said the officer.
The colonel saluted and backed his horse as the cavalcade swept pasthim; then he beckoned to the bandmaster.
"Here's your chance," he said. "Orders are to charge anything thatappears on that road. You'll play us in this time. Mount your men."
Ten minutes later the regiment, band ahead, marched out of Sandy Riverand climbed the hill, halting in the road that passed the great whitemansion. As the outposts moved forward they encountered a small boy on apony, who swung his cap at them gayly as he rode. Squads, dismounted,engaged in tearing away the rail fences bordering the highway, lookedaround, shouting a cheery answer to his excited greeting; the colonel ona ridge to the east lowered his field glasses to watch him; thebandmaster saw him coming and smiled as the boy drew bridle beside him,saluting.
"If you're not going to fight, why are you here?" asked the boybreathlessly.
"It really looks," said the bandmaster, "as though we might fight, afterall."
"_You, too?_"
"Perhaps."
"Then--could you come into the house--just a moment? My sister asked meto find you."
A bright blush crept over the bandmaster's sun-tanned cheeks.
"With pleasure," he said, dismounting, and leading his horse through thegateway and across the shrubbery to the trees.
"Celia! Celia!" called the boy, running up the veranda steps. "_He_ ishere! Please hur
ry, because he's going to have a battle!"
She came slowly, pale and lovely in her black gown, and held out herhand.
"There is a battle going on all around us, isn't there?" she asked."That is what all this dreadful uproar means?"
"Yes," he said; "there is trouble on the other side of those hills."
"Do you think there will be fighting here?"
"I don't know," he said.
She motioned him to a veranda chair, then seated herself. "What shall wedo?" she asked calmly. "I am not alarmed--but my grandfather isbedridden, and my brother is a child. Is it safe to stay?"
The bandmaster looked at her helplessly.
"I don't know," he repeated--"I don't know what to say. Nobody seems tounderstand what is happening; we in the regiment are never toldanything; we know nothing except what passes under our eyes." He brokeoff suddenly; the situation, her loneliness, the impending danger,appalled him.
"May I ask a little favor?" she said, rising. "Would you mind coming ina moment to see my grandfather?"
He stood up obediently, sheathed sabre in his left hand; she led the wayacross the hall and up the stairs, opened the door, and motioned towardthe bed. At first he saw nothing save the pillows and snowy spread.
"Will you speak to him?" she whispered.
He approached the bed, cap in hand.
"He is very old," she said; "he was a soldier of Washington. He desiresto see a soldier of the Union."
And now the bandmaster perceived the occupant of the bed, a palsied,bloodless phantom of the past--an inert, bedridden, bony thing thatlooked dead until its deep eyes opened and fixed themselves on him.
"This is a Union soldier, grandfather," she said, kneeling on the floorbeside him. And to the bandmaster she said in a low voice: "Would youmind taking his hand? He cannot move."
The bandmaster bent stiffly above the bed and took the old man's hand inhis.
The sunlit room trembled in the cannonade.
"That is all," said the girl simply. She took the fleshless hand, kissedit, and laid it on the bedspread. "A soldier of Washington," she saiddreamily. "I am glad he has seen you--I think he understands: but he isvery, very old."
She lingered a moment to touch the white hair with her hand; thebandmaster stepped back to let her pass, then put on his cap, hooked hissabre, turned squarely toward the bed and saluted.
The phantom watched him as a dying eagle watches; then the slim hand ofthe granddaughter fell on the bandmaster's arm, and he turned andclanked out into the open air.
The boy stood waiting for them, and as they appeared, he caught theirhands in each of his, talking all the while and walking with them to thegateway, where pony and charger stood, nose to nose under the trees.
"If you need anybody to dash about carrying dispatches," the boy ran on,"why, I'll do it for you. My father was a soldier, and I'm going to beone, and I----"
"Billy," said the bandmaster abruptly, "when we charge, go up on thathill and watch us. If we don't come back, you must be ready to act aman's part. Your sister counts on you."
They stood a moment there together, saying nothing. Presently somemounted officers on the hill wheeled their horses and came spurringtoward the column drawn up along the road. A trumpet spoke briskly; thebandmaster turned to the boy's sister, looked straight into her eyes,and took her hand.
"I think we're going," he said; "I am trying to thank you--I don't knowhow. Good-by."
"Is it a charge?" cried the boy.
"Good-by," said the bandmaster, smiling, holding the boy's hand tightly.Then he mounted, touched his cap, wheeled, and trotted off, freeing hissabre with his right hand.
The colonel had already drawn his sabre, the chief bugler sat hissaddle, bugle lifted, waiting. A loud order, repeated from squadron tosquadron, ran down the line; the restive horses wheeled, trampledforward, and halted.
"Draw--sabres!"
The air shrilled with the swish of steel.
Far down the road horsemen were galloping in--the returning pickets.
"Forward!"
They were moving.
"Steady--right dress!" taken up in turn by the companyofficers--"steady--right dress!"
The bandmaster swung his sabre forward; the mounted band followed.
Far away across the level fields something was stirring; the colonel sawit and turned in his saddle, scanning the column that moved forward on awalk.
Half a mile, and, passing a hill, an infantry regiment rose in theshallow trenches to cheer them. Instantly the mounted band burst outinto "The Girl I Left Behind Me"; an electric thrill passed along thecolumn.
"Steady! Steady! Right dress!" rang the calm orders as a wood, almostbehind them, was suddenly fringed with white smoke and a long, rollingcrackle broke out.
"By fours--right-about--wheel!"
The band swung out to the right; the squadrons passed on; and--"Steady!Trot! Steady--right dress--gallop!" came the orders.
The wild music of "Garryowen" set the horses frantic--and the men, too.The band, still advancing at a walk, was dropping rapidly behind. Abullet hit kettle-drummer Pillsbury, and he fell with a grunt, doublingup across his nigh kettle-drum. A moment later Peters struck his cymbalswildly together and fell clean out of his saddle, crashing to the sod.Schwarz, his trombone pierced by a ball, swore aloud and dragged hisfrantic horse into line.
"Right dress!" said the bandmaster blandly, mastering his own splendidmount as a bullet grazed its shoulder.
They were in the smoke now, they heard the yelling charge ahead, therifle fire raging, swelling to a terrific roar; and they marchedforward, playing "Garryowen"--not very well, for Connor's jaw was halfgone, and Bradley's horse was down; and the bandmaster, reeling in thesaddle, parried blow on blow from a clubbed rifle, until a stunningcrack alongside of the head laid him flat across his horse's neck. Andthere he clung till he tumbled off, a limp, loose-limbed mass, lying inthe trampled grass under the heavy pall of smoke.
Long before sunset the echoing thunder in the hills had ceased; the edgeof the great battle that had skirted Sandy River, with a volley or twoand an obscure cavalry charge, was ended. Beyond the hills, far away onthe horizon, the men of the North were tramping forward through theConfederacy. The immense exodus had begun again; the invasion wasdeveloping; and as the tremendous red spectre receded, the hem of itssmoky robe brushed Sandy River and was gone, leaving a scorched regimentor two along the railroad, and a hospital at Oxley Court Houseovercrowded.
In the sunset light the cavalry returned passing the white mansion onthe hill. They brought in their dead and wounded on hay wagons; and theboy, pale as a spectre, looked on, while the creaking wagons passed byunder the trees.
But it was his sister whose eyes caught the glitter of a gilt and yellowsleeve lying across the hay; and she dropped her brother's hand and ranout into the road.
"Is he dead?" she asked the trooper who was driving.
"No, miss. Will you take him in?"
"Yes," she said. "Bring him."
The driver drew rein, wheeled his team, and drove into the greatgateway. "Hospital's plum full, ma'am," he said. "Wait; I'll carry himup. Head's bust a leetle--that's all. A day's nussin' will bring himinto camp again."
The trooper staggered upstairs with his burden, leaving a trail of dark,wet spots along the stairs, even up to the girl's bed, where he placedthe wounded man.
The bandmaster became conscious when they laid him on the bed, but theconcussion troubled his eyes so that he was not certain that she wasthere until she bent close over him, looking down at him in silence.
"I thought of you--when _I_ was falling," he explained vaguely--"only ofyou."
The color came into her face; but her eyes were steady. She set theflaring dip on the bureau and came back to the bed. "We thought of you,too," she said.
His restless hand, fumbling the quilt, closed on hers; his eyes wereshut, but his lips moved, and she bent nearer to catch his words:
"We noncombatants get into heaps of
trouble--don't we?"
"Yes," she whispered, smiling; "but the worst is over now."
"There is worse coming."
"What?"
"We march--to-morrow. I shall never see you again."
After a silence she strove gently to release her hand; but his held it;and after a long while, as he seemed to be asleep, she sat down on thebed's edge, moving very softly lest he awaken. All the tenderness ofinnocence was in her gaze, as she laid her other hand over his and leftit there, even after he stirred and his unclosing eyes met hers.
"Celia!" called the boy, from the darkened stairway, "there's a medicalofficer here."
"Bring him," she said. She rose, her lingering fingers still in his,looking down at him all the while; their hands parted, and she movedbackward slowly, her young eyes always on his.
The medical officer passed her, stepping quickly to the bedside, stoppedshort, hesitated, and bending, opened the clotted shirt, placing asteady hand over the heart.
The next moment he straightened up, pulled the sheet over thebandmaster's face, and turned on his heel, nodding curtly to the girlas he passed out.
When he had gone, she walked slowly to the bed and drew the sheet fromthe bandmaster's face.
And as she stood there, dry-eyed, mute, from the dusky garden came thewhispering cry of the widow bird, calling, calling to the dead thatanswer never more.