Andrew Kentley 
 

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ANDREW BENTLEY 
 
 OR 
 
 How HE RETRIEVED His HONOR 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 A STORY OF THE CIVIL WAR 
 
 Founded on Facts 
 
 BY WALTER SCOTT BROWNE 
 
 Published by A. C. Graw, Camden, N. J. 
 
Copyright, 1900, 
 
 By 
 
 Walter Scott 'Browne. 
 All rights reserved. 
 
Ifr5 
 
To the many dear friends who so kindly gave me aid, com- 
 fort and good cheer, during the long, long months of 
 a painful affliction of the body, at which 
 time this story was carefully written, 
 
 this Volume 
 Is respectfully dedicated by the author. 
 
 ; Vineland, N. J., January 31, 1900. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Chapter i. Off for the War I? 
 
 Chapter 2. An Unsatisfactory Interview 28 
 
 Chapter 3. Wounded 46 
 
 Chapter 4. Drafted 62 
 
 Chapter 5. The Lonely Picket 76 
 
 Chapter 6. On to Gettysburg Cowardice 91 
 
 Chapter 7. In search of Apple-jack 112 
 
 Chapter 8. Trapped 124 
 
 Chapter 9. The Escape 134 
 
 Chapter 10. A Night in the Woods 152 
 
 Chapter 1 1. Kindness of the Slave 174 
 
 Chapter 12. Return to the Union Lines 191 
 
 Chapter 13. Battle of the WildernessDesertion 197 
 
 Chapter 14. An Arrest Frustrated 220 
 
 Chapter 15. An Interview with President Lincoln .... 235 
 
 Chapter 16. Again a Soldier Villainy of Williams ... 252 
 
 Chapter 17. Bentley Carries a Message 265 
 
 Chapter 18. Wounded Marriage Death 296 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 No event that occurred during the years of the 
 now expiring century was fraught with so much 
 earnest, anxious solicitude as the dark days of that 
 period known as the Civil War. 
 
 It is best remembered by those who passed 
 through it. Not alone by those who stood upon 
 the field of carnage, but also by the many who 
 watched and waited and prayed, in the homes 
 found in every town and hamlet throughout the 
 land. 
 
 The never ceasing onward march of time has 
 retired to the great army of the dead, many thous- 
 ands of those who survived the clang and clash of 
 war. But, " when shall their glory fade ?" 
 
 In their day and generation they served their 
 country, and it is for them we gather the fragrant 
 blossoms of spring-time, but none of richer or 
 sweeter perfume than the memories they have left 
 in the hearts of a grateful people. 
 
 The scythe of time has also been at work among 
 
14 PREFACE. 
 
 those who were non-combatants, and the flight of 
 almost half a century has left upon the stage of ac- 
 tion but a very few of those who figured as charac- 
 ters in this story. 
 
 While we have at times indulged in fancy's vis- 
 ion, and occasionally been obliged to draw upon 
 our imagination, our story is founded upon facts as 
 they occurred. 
 
 Our purpose in writing this book has been two- 
 fold : To endeavor to earn our daily bread under 
 adverse circumstances ; second, to possess in print, 
 a record of the doings of the friends of other days. 
 
 We have tried to give a clear recital of events 
 in a plain, simple way, and trust that a perusal of 
 these pages will help keep in mind that momentous 
 period of our national existence, now fast passing 
 out of the memory of the present generation. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
ANDREW BENTLEY, 
 
 --OR-- 
 
 How HE RETRIEVED His HONOR, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OFF FOR THE WAR. 
 
 HE excitement which swept over the 
 North occasioned by the attack upon 
 Fort Sumpter had barely subsided, 
 when news came of the terrible dis- 
 aster to the Union army at Bull Run, causing the 
 land to be shrouded in gloom and sorrow. 
 
 President Lincoln had issued his call for 
 'Three Hundred Thousand" men, and every- 
 where patriotic hearts were responding. 
 
 The call had been heard by the inhabitants of 
 
 the staid little village of N , nestled among 
 
 the hills of Western Pennsylvania, whose popu- 
 lation consisted of barely one hundred souls all 
 
 2 
 
1 8 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 told, and who had never known a much greater 
 event than the coming of the tri-weekly mail, usu- 
 ally carried by a boy on horse back. 
 
 Occasionally the interest would be aroused by 
 a "Punch and Judy" show which never failed to 
 draw plenty of patrons from the village and sur- 
 rounding neighborhood. This was about all that 
 broke in upon the serenity of their every day life. 
 
 But now the village was astir, and the absorb- 
 ing topic of conversation rested on four young 
 men of the place, who, having heard the strains of 
 martial music issuing from a band at a recruiting 
 office in an adjoining town, and filled with pa- 
 triotism and love of country, Alpheus Forrest, 
 George Coulter, Phineas Gray and Andrew Bent- 
 ley, had enlisted for the war. All four of them 
 favorites to a greater or less extent, and young 
 men of high respectability. They had enrolled 
 
 their names in Company A of the Sixty 
 
 Regiment of Pennsylvania Volunteer Infantry, 
 and were now sporting the royal blue of a Union 
 Soldier, the first, no doubt, that many of the in- 
 habitants had ever looked upon. The older citi- 
 zens recalled the days of the "Mexican War," 
 while a few of the grandfathers went farther back 
 and talked of the war of 1812, but all narrowed 
 
OFF FOR THE WAR. 19 
 
 down to the enlistment of these young men and 
 their probable fate. 
 
 Every attention was bestowed upon them by 
 the admiring swain of the village and neighbor- 
 hood. Evening parties and suppers were gotten 
 up for their especial benefit. 
 
 But the day of their departure was drawing 
 near, for their company had been ordered to report 
 to its regiment then stationed at Pittsburg, which 
 was under marching orders to proceed to the front. 
 
 Affecting were the farewell scenes in the 
 homes of at least three of our soldier boys, for 
 George Coulter was an orphan, having lost both 
 parents at an early age, he had been adopted and 
 brought up by a kind neighbor for whom he had 
 labored faithfully until within a few years of the 
 opening of our story. 
 
 Farmer Forrest and his wife bade their son, 
 Alpheus, an affectionate good-bye, with a "God 
 bless you," while tears fell thick and fast upon their 
 withered cheeks. 
 
 The patriotic father of Phineas Gray gave his 
 boy his blessing, and bade him to be true to the old 
 flag. He declared "it was too bad he could not 
 go himself." But having served a term of enlist- 
 ment on the frontier, and being more or less crip- 
 
2O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 pled with rheumatism, he was obliged to wait at 
 home for the news of the daring deeds, that would 
 surely be performed by his Phineas. 
 
 It was in the Bentley homestead that the parting 
 was most sad. The aged father tried with heroic 
 fortitude to bear up and not show any signs of 
 breaking down, for the fond mother had given 
 away entirely, and clung with sobs to the bosom of 
 her son. She had years before lost her eldest son, 
 George, by a fatal accident in a mill, and her 
 youngest son being absent from home, the going 
 of this, her second boy, who had never been away 
 above a fortnight at a time, seemed to crush her 
 heart strings. She had placed within the pocket 
 of his blouse his little Testament and now begged 
 of him to read a portion of it, if possible, every day 
 and put his trust in the God that had sustained her 
 these many years. 
 
 With a tender embrace and parting kiss from 
 his mother, followed by a warm clasp of the hand 
 of his aged father, Andrew tore himself away, and 
 with a throbbing heart hastened down the shady 
 walk to the front gate where he turned and took a 
 last lingering look upon the home that had shel- 
 tered him for years, and which might never shelter 
 him again. Then with a resolute look upon his face 
 
OFF FOR THE WAR. 21 
 
 he quickly crossed the road and took the path 
 through the orchard which led in the direction of 
 Judge Preston's residence, for Andrew had another 
 duty before him. 
 
 For years he had cherished a tender feeling for 
 Annie Preston, the beautiful dark haired daughter 
 of the Judge, and he had reason to believe his pas- 
 sion was returned, although nothing had ever 
 passed between them on the subject. But in their 
 earlier life they seemed to choose the companion- 
 ship of each other, and in school, many a bright 
 yellow pippin or rosy cheeked Baldwin apple found 
 its way from Andrew's pocket into Annie's desk. 
 And had he not always found time to work the most 
 intricate problems in arithmetic for her? Annie 
 had a host of friends among the boys and girls in 
 school, and especially was she admired by one 
 Henry Williams, a large stout boy about ready to 
 leave school, more on account of his size than 
 advancement in his studies ; he was the eldest son 
 of Squire Williams, who kept the only store the 
 village could afford. 
 
 Henry possessed one faculty developed above 
 all others, and that was his ability to drive a sharp 
 bargain. No doubt this was inherent from his 
 father, and from his experience in the store, where 
 
22 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 it was said by some that he did not always give 
 the most exact measure. Aside from this, he was 
 rather prepossessing in his appearance, always 
 wore good clothes and when he would try, could 
 make himself quite agreeable. He had aimed in 
 his boyish way to engraft himself into the good 
 graces of Annie Preston, but the fair Annie treated 
 him only with the respect due a school companion. 
 She made no show of preference for any one, unless 
 it was for the stalwart Andrew, whose blue eyes 
 caused her a peculiar thrill of delight when they 
 looked so earnestly into her dark ones, as he ex- 
 plained the intricacies of the application of cube 
 root. 
 
 It was to this fair maiden that Andrew was 
 now hastening to say a last farewell ere he joined 
 his comrades who were to wait for him at Squire 
 Williams' store, for the Squire had kindly arranged 
 to have his hired man drive them to the Com- 
 pany's rendezvous. His rapid steps soon brought 
 him to the walk leading up to the Preston man- 
 sion. Annie stood at the gate waiting to greet 
 him. She had caught a glimpse of his uniform as 
 he emerged from the orchard and had hastened 
 down to the gate to meet him. 
 
 As he approached her, Andrew never appeared 
 
OFF FOR THE WAR. 23 
 
 to a better advantage in the eyes of Annie. His 
 close fitting uniform showing off his tall form, he 
 appeared so soldierly in his every movement, that 
 her eyes beamed with the joy and pride she felt in 
 her heart for her soldier-boy school-mate. 
 
 Andrew had resolved that on this, his good- 
 bye call, to reveal the state of his feelings, and if 
 possible to exact a promise from the fair maiden, 
 to hold his love in sacred trust till his return from 
 the war when he might claim her as his loving 
 bride. 
 
 Their greeting was indicative of the regard each 
 held for the other, and as Andrew pressed the fair 
 hand extended to him, a conscious blush over- 
 spread Annie's face. 
 
 "Why, Andrew! You seem to be in great 
 haste; pray what is the matter? You look as 
 though you had some news to impart." 
 
 "I have dear friend," replied Andrew. "Our 
 company has orders to join the regiment at once, 
 which leaves to-morrow for the seat of war. In 
 one short hour I must meet my comrades at Wil- 
 liams' grocery where a team awaits us to take us 
 over to M where we join our command." 
 
 "So soon?" murmured Annie. 
 
 "Yes," replied Andrew, "I had rather expected 
 
24 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 it before this," and placing her hand within his, he 
 led her to a rustic seat beneath the shade of a large 
 maple that stood near. "Annie, I have come to 
 say good-bye, and before I go, I would like to ex- 
 act of you a promise," and his honest blue eyes 
 looked straight into hers, and she read in them, 
 that which brought a responsive thrill to her own 
 heart. "Annie," he continued, "You will not for- 
 get me when I'm gone, will you?" And Andrew 
 took the little hand that lay in her lap within his 
 own, brown with exposure to the wind and sun. 
 She did not withdraw it and he felt encouraged to 
 proceed. 
 
 "Dear girl, I need not tell you how much you 
 are to me, and how hard it is for me to say good- 
 bye to-day. I may never be privileged to return, 
 but the pain of parting would be lessened, and my 
 soldier life brightened, did I but carry with me the 
 knowledge of your true heart-felt affection and 
 your promise that when I return if I am per- 
 mitted to do so I may claim you as my bride." 
 
 Annie's head had drooped on his shoulder, and 
 Andrew noticed a glistening tear-drop course its 
 way down her blushing cheek. 
 
 She raised her head and he saw her dark eyes 
 were suffused with tears. Her voice trembled as 
 
OFF FOR THE WAR. 2 5 
 
 she made reply, "Andrew, you have asked to-day 
 for that which has long been yours, but never did 
 I realize until your coming just a few moments ago 
 how much I loved you, and how noble you looked 
 in your soldier blue, but Oh, how sad to think 
 that you must go so soon. But Andrew, prom- 
 ise me one thing that you will never disgrace the 
 uniform which you now wear. You know the 
 strong love our family all bear for the dear old flag, 
 and when you return as one of its defenders, be 
 you unscathed or maimed by shot or shell, I will 
 join my lot to yours, happy in the consciousness 
 of being a brave soldier's wife." 
 
 Andrew drew her to his bosom, and printed a 
 betrothal kiss upon her ruby lips. "God bless 
 you, my darling, you have given me that which will 
 enable me to endure the weary march with greater 
 cheerfulness, and prove a companion on the lonely 
 picket, and in the heat of conflict, I shall not forget 
 that I am battling for home, for loved ones, and my 
 country's honor. And now dearest," looking at 
 his watch "my hour is most up and a soldier must 
 be promptly on time. I must say adieu." 
 
 Again they embraced and with a heavy heart 
 she proceeded up the shady walk toward the 
 house, while Andrew with hasty steps turned into 
 
26 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 the road leading to the village. Just before he 
 reached the bend in the road, he turned, stopped, 
 and looked back. Annie was standing on the 
 steps of the veranda watching him. He threw her 
 a parting kiss, and she responded by a wave of her 
 handkerchief, a few more steps and he was hid 
 from her sight. 
 
 She entered the house to take up the hum 
 drum of every-day life, while Andrew hurried on 
 to join his comrades in waiting for him at the gro- 
 cery. The driver, under a patriotic inspiration, 
 had bedecked his team and wagon with flags and 
 streamers until it looked like a triumphal chariot. 
 
 The entire community had turned out to bid 
 them good-bye and wish them "God speed." 
 
 A few old snare drums, together with an old 
 bass drum, that had seen service for almost a cen- 
 tury back, had been found with willing hands to 
 beat them, and when old cobbler King, who had 
 served as a fifer in the war of 1812 appeared with 
 his old yellow fife and struck up the tune of "The 
 girl I left behind me," the cheer that went up from 
 those assembled, was such as had never been heard 
 before in the staid, quiet country village. 
 
 Hand clasps were given, farewells were said, 
 and amid waving flags and handkerchiefs, loud 
 
OFF FOR THE WAR. 2? 
 
 huzzas and the rattle of the drums, the quartette 
 of young patriots were driven away, leaving behind 
 many, whose eyes were filled with a suspicious 
 moisture, for in small villages the people seem 
 more closely bound together than in large cities. 
 
 And thus the village of N had contributed 
 
 her first invoice for the defense of the old flag. 
 
28 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 
 
 UT little work was done the balance of 
 the day, for the nerves of the villagers 
 had been wrought up to such a pitch 
 that they did not feel like toiling. They 
 preferred to discuss the probable future of the four 
 brave boys who had gone out from among them. 
 
 "I prophesy that Andy Bentley will come home 
 a 'Gineral' or some other big officer," said the old 
 shoemaker, with whom Andrew had always been 
 a favorite. 
 
 "He won't prove a better fighter than my Phin- 
 eas," said old Major Gray, who had just joined the 
 group that had gathered in the grocery store. 
 "My boy has pluck from away back," he continued, 
 "and I told him not to disgrace his colors no mat- 
 ter where he was placed." Poor fond father, he 
 little knew how well his boy would fulfill his injunc- 
 tion and at what a sacrifice. 
 
 "I'll wager a barrel of flour on our boy, George 
 
AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 2Q 
 
 Coulter, proving the best soldier of the lot," said 
 Squire Williams as he straightened out the goods 
 that had become disarranged on the shelves. 
 George had made his home for several years back 
 with the Squire and they had become much at- 
 tached to him. 
 
 "I'm afraid neighbor Forest's Alph won't 
 stand the hardships. He's a'llers been sort of 
 sickly like and a great home boy," said the first 
 speaker. "But we shall see." 
 
 Every day the interest in the coming of the 
 mail-man increased, and news was eagerly looked 
 for from the seat of war. 
 
 The regiment had moved by rail to Washing- 
 ton and went into camp near the city, and later, 
 moved out about eight miles to Camp Hays. 
 Here our soldier boys had their first experience in 
 the daily routine of camp life. Their spare mo- 
 ments were spent in writing letters home. 
 
 All was moving along with its usual serenity in 
 
 N , the coming of the mail-man was eagerly 
 
 looked for, and letters from either of the absent 
 four were first read at home, then to eager groups 
 who would gather to listen to news "from the 
 army," as the expression went. 
 
 But there were letters received at the N 
 
3O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 post-office that did not become common property ; 
 they were meant for one pair of eyes alone. An- 
 nie Preston eagerly devoured the loving epistles 
 that came from her soldier boy, and in return she 
 sent messages laden with love and affection, that 
 went a great way to cheer our lonely soldier's heart. 
 Annie had always been a favorite with Andrew's 
 mother, but now the bond of friendship between 
 them seemed to strengthen, and she was often to 
 be seen treading the path through the orchard lead- 
 ing in the direction of Farmer Bentley's. Annie's 
 visits were much enjoyed by Andrew's mother al- 
 though she had not the slightest conception of the 
 bond existing between her son and this fair daugh- 
 ter of the rich Judge Preston. 
 
 The work of organizing and putting into prop- 
 er condition the vast army that was assembling 
 under the leadership of McClellan, or "Little 
 Mac," as he was familiarly called by the men under 
 him, was pursued with vigor during the fall, and 
 extending well into the winter. 
 
 The regiment to which our young heroes be- 
 longed went into winter quarters near Fort Lyon 
 in Virginia, and settled down to as much comfort 
 as they could possibly get. 
 
AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 3! 
 
 With the reader's indulgence we will here give 
 in brief a transaction that occurred some time prior 
 to the opening of our story, in order to shed light 
 upon subsequent events, and show the sacrifice a 
 father made at a time when he needed the strong 
 arm of a stalwart son. 
 
 The early days of the gold excitement in Cal- 
 ifornia had found John M. Bentley, the father of 
 Andrew, among the many who rushed from all 
 points in the East, to seek a fortune in the rich 
 mines reported to be discovered in the mountain 
 valleys along the Pacific slope. 
 
 After enduring many hardships, and meeting 
 with many reverses of fortune, he at last developed 
 a rich claim and, seized with an intense longing to 
 see his loved ones whom he had left far back in the 
 East, and being somewhat broken down by expos- 
 ure, he resolved to give up the life of a miner. 
 
 He had no difficulty in finding a ready pur- 
 chaser for his claim at a good figure, and with his 
 suddenly acquired wealth, he at once set his face 
 toward the land of his birth, resolved to settle 
 down for the remainder of his days. 
 
 A short time after his arrival in the East, an 
 opportunity was given him of buying a fertile tract 
 of land lying close to the little village of N . 
 
32 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Mr. Bentley paid for this land with a portion 
 of the gold he had brought from California. 
 With the remainder of his wealth he erected a com- 
 modious dwelling-house and neat barn. 
 
 He also stocked his farm with cattle, and a few 
 good draught horses, for he was more disposed to 
 stock raising than tillage of the ground. 
 
 It was not long before Meadowfield farm for 
 such it was called was looked upon as the most 
 desirable of any of the homesteads to be found 
 among the many fertile farms with which West- 
 moreland county abounded, and ere a decade of 
 years had passed, Mr. Bentley, the gold miner, had 
 transformed into the prosperous farmer. 
 
 His eldest son had chosen the vocation of a mill- 
 er and, as has been stated, had met with an accident 
 which caused his untimely death. 
 
 The youngest son, a mere youth, spent much 
 of his time with an uncle living in Michigan, with 
 whom he was a great favorite. 
 
 This left but one boy at home, Andrew, a strong 
 sturdy lad nearing manhood, who proved to be a 
 great help to his father in the management of the 
 farm. 
 
 A few years previous to the opening of our 
 story, a company had been organized to prospect 
 for oil within the territory surrounding N . 
 
AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 33 
 
 Test wells were to be put down, and Farmer 
 Bentley, still possessing the spirit that led him 
 westward in quest of gold, now became enthusi- 
 astic over the prospect of getting oil. 
 
 He declared that he believed that in a little 
 while they would find their valleys as rich as any of 
 the mineral land lying in the valley of the Yuba. 
 
 It was quite natural that, being so enthusiastic, 
 he was a ready investor and held a considerable 
 amount of stock in the new venture. 
 
 Derricks went up, and day and night the sound 
 of the drill could be heard, as well after well went 
 down, but nothing but a slight flow of gas was ever 
 realized. 
 
 At once the golden visions of the investors took 
 wings and sped away, leaving them nothing but 
 the ashes of disappointed expectations. 
 
 Another enthusiast over the expected discovery 
 of oil was good old Doctor Merriman, who had al- 
 so invested heavily ; so much so, that being unable 
 to realize much in way of collections, he was 
 obliged to apply to Squire Williams for a loan. 
 
 This the Squire was willing to grant, provided 
 the doctor would furnish good security. 
 
 Doctor Merriman knew he had during his long 
 
34 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 professional career befriended many in a financial 
 way, but to find a friend when now in need was an- 
 other thing to consider. 
 
 But he felt sure of one to whom he could apply, 
 whom he felt would be willing to befriend him, for 
 he had in other days found John M. Bentley a man 
 always willing and ready to assist a friend. 
 
 But as Bentley had, as he knew, lost heavily in 
 the ill-starred oil speculation, and the amount for 
 which he desired to secure an endorsement being a 
 large one, he pondered over the matter for some 
 time before he could make up his mind to ask his 
 neighbor for his signature. 
 
 When Doctor Merriman approached his neigh- 
 bor he found him ready to accommodate him, but 
 the farmer frankly told his old physician that he 
 was poorly prepared to stand good for an obliga- 
 tion of that kind without a great sacrifice, in event 
 of the doctor being unable to meet it when called 
 upon. 
 
 The honest old doctor set the farmer's fears at 
 rest, by stating that Squire Wililams was willing to 
 give the money for an indefinite time, and that in 
 order to secure his friend he would execute a judg- 
 ment in favor of Farmer Bentley, to hold until his 
 payment of the debt to Squire Williams. 
 
AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 35 
 
 This seemed satisfactory, and the endorsement 
 of John M. Bentley appearing upon the paper, the 
 money was readily obtained from the Squire. 
 
 This debt was made payable in gold, the issue 
 of paper currency, familiarly known as "green- 
 backs," not having yet taken place. 
 
 The financial stress having been relieved, the 
 old doctor gave no more thought on the matter, 
 and as Squire Williams was not sorely in need of 
 money, the years went on apace and the obligation 
 remained uncancelled. 
 
 It was in the early spring time of the opening 
 year of the war that an unlooked for accident oc- 
 curred, shocking the entire community, and for the 
 time driving from the minds of the inhabitants of 
 N and vicinity, all speculations of the com- 
 ing struggle. 
 
 Doctor Merriman was like most all country 
 physicians, a public servant, who was expected to 
 answer the demands of the public, at any and all 
 hours of the day or night. 
 
 He was a faithful practitioner, waiting upon rich 
 and poor, without discrimination. 
 
 It was on his return from a night visit to a poor 
 family, where in all probability the pay for his 
 services would likely be more gratitude than any- 
 
36 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 thing else, that he was found one foggy morning 
 lying unconscious at the foot of a precipitous bluff, 
 amid the wreck of his buggy and a dead horse. 
 
 No one knew how it happened, but the road at 
 this point had always been considered dangerous, 
 and its icy condition at this time of the year gave 
 grounds for the supposition that probably in the 
 dense fog the old doctor had driven too near the 
 edge. 
 
 In his unconscious condition they tenderly 
 carried him home, where in a few short hours of 
 great anxiety to his family and those at his bedside, 
 he who had fought back the "grim reaper" from 
 many a home in the community, yielded to the in- 
 exorable and passed away, leaving much of his 
 work unfinished and his business affairs in an un- 
 settled condition. 
 
 Doctor Merriman had a large family that had 
 never been taught to practice economy, and the 
 demand upon his purse had been both constant and 
 heavy. 
 
 The good old man, while very attentive to his 
 patients, had proven a poor collector and some- 
 what negligent of his business accounts. 
 
 Those appointed to settle up his affairs found 
 but few charges upon his books, although all knew 
 his practice was a large one. 
 
AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 37 
 
 It was soon demonstrated that his estate was 
 deeply insolvent. The claim of Squire Williams 
 had never been liquidated, but in addition, the in- 
 terest for several years back had not been paid. 
 
 This indebtedness, Farmer Bentley was obliged 
 to assume. He paid to Squire Williams the inter- 
 est due, and as he was not able to cancel the obli- 
 gation at that time, he gave the Squire a first mort- 
 gage upon Meadowfield. 
 
 However, it was tacitly understood by both, 
 that the mortgage would not be foreclosed without 
 first having Farmer Bentley's consent. 
 
 Andrew Bentley was aware of this indebted- 
 ness, and for months prior to his enlistment had 
 been assiduous in his duties on the farm, and the 
 entire family had been observing the most rigid 
 economy that the mortgage might be lessened, 
 and in time lifted. 
 
 But the tidal wave of patriotism was sweeping 
 o'er the land, and for the present all other aspira- 
 tions were submerged and Andrew was already a 
 soldier, hoping that he could at least help his father 
 a little by sending home his monthly pay. 
 
 Annie Preston did not attend the school in the 
 little academy that winter. The illness of her 
 mother rendered it necessary to remain at home. 
 
38 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 There were also several absentees among the young 
 men who usually attended. A number of them 
 had caught the war fever and had enrolled them- 
 selves among the country's defenders , and our 
 young friend, Henry Williams, concluding he was 
 of more need in his father's store, decided to re- 
 main away from school that winter also. He was 
 in this way afforded an opportunity of seeing Annie 
 Preston and waiting upon her, when she occasion- 
 ally paid a visit to the store to purchase some nec- 
 essary article for use at home. 
 
 Henry had all along cherished the hope that 
 some day the fair Annie would condescend to smile 
 upon him, and now since Andrew Bentley was ab- 
 sent there seemed to be a clear field to pursue the 
 most cherished desire of his heart and win the ob- 
 ject of his affection, but Annie always seemed to 
 carry with her an air and manner that kept Henry 
 at a respectful distance. 
 
 But one morning she came tripping into the 
 store with so much sunshine in her face that Hen- 
 ry's stock of courage experienced quite a raise. 
 Annie had just received a long letter from Andrew, 
 and consequently was in a very cheerful frame of 
 mind. 
 
 Henry waited upon her very attentively and af- 
 
AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 39 
 
 ter placing her purchases carefully in her basket, 
 lifting his hat, he politely remarked that he would 
 carry her basket for her as he was going over her 
 way. The young lady thanked him and together 
 they left the store and proceeded up the highway 
 that led to Judge Preston's residence. 
 
 House delivery of packages purchased was not 
 
 in vogue at that date in N , but Henry had 
 
 made this ostensible excuse in order to secure an 
 interview with Annie. The air was crisp and cool, 
 although the sun was doing his best to warm up 
 frozen nature. As they walked along, .Henry was 
 thinking very hard for something to say that 
 might lead up to the subject most in his mind. 
 
 They had walked along some distance in silence, 
 when Annie noticing her companion's reticence, 
 asked him if anything had gone wrong in his bus- 
 iness at the store. 
 
 "Business never was better," was Henry's 
 prompt answer. "Made a good deal last week in 
 the purchase of a large lot of potatoes, as early this 
 week an agent for the Government was around try- 
 ing to buy up all the potatoes he could for the 
 army, consequently they have advanced twenty 
 cents on the bushel." 
 
 "This war makes hardships not only on the 
 
4O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 field of battle, but at home as well/' replied his fair 
 companion, "for with the rise in the price of the 
 commodities of life, the efforts of the poor man to 
 support his family become harder, as well as the 
 families of soldiers in the field, for the pay of an en- 
 listed man is not very large, I understand. Oh, 
 how I wish the war was over!" And her voice 
 was full of pathos. 
 
 "No doubt you do, in fact we all do, but war 
 makes times good and business brisk, and that is 
 what we all like to see. I believe every man should 
 look out for himself." 
 
 Annie turned upon him with a look in her eyes 
 in which surprise and contempt were both min- 
 gled. "Why Henry Williams ! I did not think 
 you would count the gain in dollars and cents to 
 be compared to the suffering and sorrow that is 
 now abroad in our land." 
 
 Henry at once saw his mistake and hastened to 
 rectify it. "You misunderstand me, Annie. I only 
 meant that it was the part of every good business 
 man to embrace the advantages which the vicissi- 
 tudes of war bring, and over which he has no con- 
 trol." 
 
 "I am in full sympathy with our soldiers at the 
 front," he continued, "and have of late thought se- 
 
AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 4! 
 
 riously of enlisting myself." Henry hardly meant 
 all of the latter remark, but he advanced it as an 
 act of diplomacy. 
 
 "I am pleased to hear you say this Henry, for 
 our country stands in need of every loyal defender. 
 Your father could easily get hired help to assist 
 him in the store, and I am sure you would make a 
 brave, courageous soldier, one that our village 
 would be proud of." And Annie beamed upon 
 him a look which made Henry's heart thrill with 
 joy. 
 
 "Would you really like to see me go as a sol- 
 dier? Would you miss me very much?" and here 
 Henry's voice had almost a perceptible tremor in it. 
 
 "To be sure I would like to see you in the uni- 
 form of one of our country's defenders and as for 
 missing you, you well know that our society is not 
 so large but that the most modest and retiring 
 would be missed." 
 
 This was not just the answer that Henry was 
 eagerly expecting. They had by this time reached 
 the gate of the pathway leading to the house, and 
 Henry determined before relinquishing his hold 
 upon the basket to make one more attempt to learn 
 whether there was any hope of having a place in 
 the affection of the fair maiden at his side. 
 
42 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 "Annie," and in his gray eyes there was a look 
 she had not seen before, "I would gladly enlist to- 
 morrow, and cheerfully take up the hardships of a 
 soldier's life, if I but knew that while I was battling 
 for my country, there was one very dear to me at 
 home who would cherish my memory and wait and 
 watch for my return, and that, that one was your 
 own dear self." 
 
 This was hardly unexpected, for Annie had a 
 suspicion that Henry cherished for her a feeling of 
 more than ordinary friendship, but she was sur- 
 prised at the fervor of his tone and the manner of 
 declaration, for close to this very spot, over a year 
 before, a declaration of almost like character had 
 been poured into her ear. 
 
 Her face was suffused with blushes reaching to 
 the roots of her dark waving hair, and it was a mo- 
 ment before she made reply. When she did so, 
 her eyes seemed to have a far away look, as though 
 she was trying at that moment to pierce the dis- 
 tance that lay between her and the dear one then 
 in the ranks of the Nation's defenders. 
 
 Her voice was kind but firm. "Henry, you 
 should not let a passing fancy be the motive to 
 prompt you to deeds of valor, but it should be a 
 higher one a love of country a desire to defend 
 
AN UNSATISFACTORY INTERVIEW. 43 
 
 a flag that has never known dishonor. I cannot 
 promise all you ask, but I will pray for you as I do 
 for all our soldiers, and when you return, will be 
 glad to welcome you back as my soldier friend." 
 
 But this did not satisfy the prospective Son of 
 Mars. So he resolved upon another attempt to 
 awaken her feeling. "But, dear friend, may I not 
 have some hope to carry with me, to help me on 
 the weary march and nerve me in the heat of con- 
 flict? Think of what you are able to do. Your 
 promise would cheer me in the darkest hour, and 
 be the spur to urge me on to deeds of heroism. I 
 would" 
 
 But here Annie interrupted him. "You must 
 not speak to me in this manner, and I am wrong in 
 listening to you. Please let me have my basket for 
 I see mother is waiting for me." 
 
 Henry handed her the basket, and in as pleas- 
 ant a tone as possible to command under the ex- 
 isting state of affairs, he lifted his hat, bidding her 
 a polite good morning, turned on his heel and 
 rapidly strode back toward the village, while he 
 muttered to himself : "Confound it ! I'll bet a good 
 sum she has given a promise to Andy Bentley." 
 
 "Dear, me ! but she has high notions of patriot- 
 ism. To hear her talk one would think she was a 
 
44 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 direct descendant from Daniel Webster. I won- 
 der if she thinks I am dying to go and eat hard- 
 tack and salt pork, and at the command of a big 
 epauletted General, march up to be riddled by rebel 
 bullets." 
 
 "No, pray excuse me! I prefer to sell coffee 
 and sugar in my father's store, and then when the 
 brave soldier comes home covered with glory and 
 precious little money in his pocket, how much nicer 
 it will be for me to look over my snug bank account 
 and feel I am secure against a rainy day." And 
 comforting himself with thoughts like these, he en- 
 tered his father's store and passed the remainder of 
 the day in attending to the wants of customers and 
 receiving the produce brought in for sale or ex- 
 change. 
 
 He was quite busy all day, but while his hands 
 were occupied with the work before him, his mind 
 kept pace with his hands, though in another direc- 
 tion, for while Henry Williams had met with a po- 
 lite refusal at the hands of the fair Annie, he was 
 by no means willing to give up his suit ; but what 
 troubled him most was the position she took re- 
 garding the duty every young man owed his coun- 
 try. 
 
 Henry had no taste for war. He was at heart 
 
WOUNDED. 45 
 
 a coward, and as before stated, his intimation of 
 enlisting was only made for policy sake. True, he 
 might be willing to go for a short time, provided he 
 could secure a safe place in the Commissary De- 
 partment and a promise of affection from Annie 
 Preston, but as neither seemed within his grasp, 
 Henry's mind was busy perfecting some other way 
 to secure the prize. 
 
46 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 WOUNDED. 
 
 HE coming of the warm days of spring had 
 quite an enlivening effect upon the 
 army which had been lying in snug 
 winter quarters around Washington 
 and adjacent parts of Virginia. Great things were 
 expected of the "Army of the Potomac," and when 
 it began to uncoil itself like a huge serpent, and 
 move out of its camps, the interest throughout the 
 land was fully aroused. 
 
 A campaign against Richmond had been plan- 
 ned by way of the Peninsula. The army was car- 
 ried by transports down the river, landing at Fort- 
 ress Monroe in great strength. 
 
 Early in April it slowly began its march towards 
 Yorktown, which was evacuated by the Confed- 
 erates and taken peaceable possession of by the 
 Union army. Next followed the battle of Wil- 
 liamsburg in which the Sixty regiment par- 
 ticipated, bearing the brunt of the battle and ren- 
 dering gallant service. 
 
WOUNDED. 47 
 
 This being the first battle in which our four sol- 
 dier boys were under fire, their feelings can bet- 
 ter be imagined than described, but no doubt their 
 thoughts were of home, as shot and shell went 
 screaming through the air, carrying death and de- 
 struction in their wake. 
 
 The battalion in which their company ranked 
 was ordered to fix bayonets and charge across a 
 marshy strip of land to dislodge a body of the en- 
 emy, that were stationed in the wood beyond, 
 whose fire had been very destructive. 
 
 Andrew Bentley cast a brief glance down the 
 line to observe the faces of his three companions. 
 He was not disappointed, for each one had stamped 
 upon his countenance a look of resolute determin- 
 ation. The word was given, and the line moved 
 out as if on parade. Not a waver, but with the 
 steadiness of veterans they moved on. 
 
 Just as they reached the borders of the morass 
 alluded to, the ominous silence was broken by a 
 terrific volley of musketry from the woods beyond, 
 which swept the entire line. Many sank down mo- 
 tionless, forever still, while others threw up their 
 hands, clutching wildly at the air, plunged forward 
 to sink down in the soft oozy mud, there to wal- 
 low like animals in their death struggle. 
 
48 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 For a moment the advance was checked, but 
 the commanding officer, seeing a delay at this point 
 would prove disastrous, he sharply gave the com- 
 mand to "Forward ! Double quick time !" and the 
 line dashed forward leaving their dead and wound- 
 ed as they fell. As the line had reached the 
 swampy morass just before the murderous fire 
 which proved so fatal, Andrew Bentley in trying 
 to secure a firm foot hold, suddenly slipped and 
 endeavoring to regain his equilibrium, plouted 
 forward into the swamp just in time to escape the 
 devastating fire. He quickly regained his feet and 
 dashed forward with his comrades. He felt that 
 the mishap was more providential than accidental, 
 for the man who marched directly behind him lay 
 silent upon the edge of the morass, with a gaping 
 wound in his breast, but he had no time to reflect 
 on "what might have been," for the line was 
 quickly emerging from the dark mud through 
 which they had passed, and gaining the solid 
 ground without waiting to reform their line, with 
 a wild "Huz-za" they dashed into the wood driv- 
 ing everything before them, and capturing a light 
 battery that had just come up to the support of 
 the infantry, but had not time to unlimber and get 
 into position. 
 
WOUNDED. 49 
 
 The fight was won, but at a fearful cost, for 
 back along their track lay at least one-third of the 
 brave band that started in the charge so valiantly. 
 
 A detail was made up to look after the dead and 
 wounded, and when Andrew Bentley was chosen, 
 he was much pleased for when the line was re- 
 formed, he had missed the form of Phineas Gray, 
 and he felt anxious to learn of his fate. 
 
 The wounded were assisted to higher ground 
 where it was dry, and those who were past all need 
 of earthly help, were tenderly carried and laid in 
 rows by the border of the swamp. 
 
 Andrew's worst fears were realized, for among 
 those mortally wounded he found his comrade 
 Phineas. The poor boy realized he had only a 
 short time to live, for from an ugly wound in his 
 side, his life-blood was slowly ebbing away. An- 
 drew placed him a little apart from the rest. He 
 gave him a drink of water from his canteen, which 
 seemed to revive him some. He hastened to pro- 
 cure some clear water, which he carried in his cap, 
 and kneeling beside him, proceeded to bathe his 
 comrade's wounds, first cutting away the mud- 
 stained garments, and doing his best to stop the 
 flow of blood. In this, he was in a measure success- 
 ful ; then after tenderly removing the splashes of 
 
 4 
 
50 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 mud from the white face and hands of Phineas, and 
 binding his handkerchief as best he could over the 
 gaping wound, he sat down and took the hand of 
 his comrade in his own. 
 
 "Phineas, my brave boy, is there any word you 
 would want me to send home?" 
 
 The dying soldier opened his blue eyes and said, 
 "Yes ! Tell 'em at home we whipped, only I was not 
 in at the finish." 
 
 "But Phineas, haven't you a word for your 
 father and mother?" 
 
 "Yes, tell 'em tell 'em I did all I could, 
 but it wasn't much. Yes, tell mother not to 
 weep for her boy, for I am not afraid to 
 die." 
 
 Just then the other two comrades came up, and 
 soon the trio were kneeling, and with eyes dimming 
 with tears, were gazing into the face of their fast 
 sinking comrade. 
 
 "Boys!" said Phineas, "Don't ever turn 
 your back on the old flag ! You, Andy, 
 and you George and Alpheus, may you all 
 get safely home. Good-bye, but tell 'em I 
 couldn't come." 
 
 An ashy pallor had crept over his face, he closed 
 his eyes, his limbs quivered and they all thought 
 
WOUNDED. 5 1 
 
 him dead, but just then a bugle in the distance rang 
 out and with a start the young soldier partly raised 
 himself by an almost superhuman exertion. 
 
 His eyes blazed with their wonted light ; he lis- 
 tened a moment. "Tis the assembly call ; I must 
 hasten, meet me in " 
 
 His head fell back, there was a strange rattle in 
 his throat, and Phineas Gray's soul had gone out 
 to join the great encampment on the other shore. 
 
 His companions having secured leave of ab- 
 sence, carried his body to the foot of a great pine 
 tree that stood on the edge of the swamp, and after 
 wrapping him in his blanket, they dug a grave and, 
 with sad hearts, tenderly placed the form of the 
 young soldier within. First covering it with small 
 branches gathered from the evergreen pine they 
 filled in the soft mould, and thus passed from sight 
 one of the yeomanry of our land. The first martyr 
 
 from the town of N to the great cause of 
 
 freedom. 
 
 The three survivors after concluding their labor 
 of love, stood and gazed at each other, while the 
 unspoken question was, Who will be the next? 
 
 The roar of the cannon had ceased, and while 
 away to the right came occasionally the rattle of 
 musketry, the battle was practically over. Night 
 
52 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 closed down on the scene of conflict, and under its 
 cover the enemy evacuated the town, and next 
 morning the Union army moved forward to within 
 seven miles of the rebel Capitol. 
 
 The news of the battle of Williamsburg, and the 
 
 death of Phineas Gray reached N in advance 
 
 of the letters from his surviving comrades, but when 
 Andrew Bentley's letter to the aged father was read, 
 conveying the news incident to the death of 
 Phineas, the entire town went into mourning. A 
 special memorial service was held in the little 
 church, and an appropriate funeral sermon was 
 preached by the white haired pastor. 
 
 The patriotic old father of Phineas dwelt long 
 and lovingly upon the scene of his boy's death and 
 his parting words, and while the tears streamed 
 from his eyes, so he could not see the lines, he kept 
 repeating to himself, "Well, he died just as I would 
 have him. I'm glad he didn't disgrace his uni- 
 form." 
 
 With the mother it was different ; she could find 
 no solace for the loss of her boy ; her grief was of 
 the silent kind. Already prostrated upon her bed 
 with the infirmities of age, she daily grew weaker 
 until before the summer sun had reached its full 
 zenith, her gentle spirit went out to meet that of her 
 soldier boy Phineas. 
 
WOUNDED. 5 3 
 
 Annie Preston had also received from Andrew 
 a full account of the battle and the death of his com- 
 rade. She shed copious tears as she perused the 
 letter for she well remembered the bright eyed 
 youth, and Annie had a dread that she might ere 
 long be called to mourn the death of one now very 
 dear to her. 
 
 On the 3 ist of May was fought the battle of 
 Fair Oaks. The regiment lost heavily in this bat- 
 tle. Company A was in the hottest of the fight and 
 covered itself with glory. Our young friend, 
 George Coulter, displayed great heroism during the 
 fight and won the chevrons of sergeant. 
 
 Early in the action, Andrew Bentley received a 
 bullet wound in the right arm, and although it was 
 much against his will, he was compelled to repair to 
 the hospital. There it was discovered that his 
 wound was more serious than it at first appeared. 
 
 Alpheus Forrest passed through the battle un- 
 scathed. He whom they had prophesied at home 
 would not be able to stand the hardships of the 
 march and battle, seemed to grow more rugged 
 every day. 
 
 The tide of conflict swept on, but Andrew's con- 
 finement in the hospital prevented him from taking 
 part in the many battles which followed in that dis- 
 
54 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 astrous campaign. His wound, though only 
 through the fleshy part of the arm seemed stubborn 
 and resisted all attempts at healing. A low fever 
 set in, and instead of Andrew improving, his 
 strength was waning. He had been sent with 
 many others to one of the hospitals near Washing- 
 ton; but the wounded from the many battlefields 
 coming in so fast, the conditons of things necessi- 
 tated a removal of those best able to stand a jour- 
 ney to a hospital at Annapolis, and our friend An- 
 drew found himself among those to be sent away. 
 
 After his arrival at Annapolis, he for a time ap- 
 peared to improve, but one day being exposed to a 
 cold draught of air, which swept in from off the 
 bay, he was forced back to his cot again in the ward. 
 Here we find him writing to Annie, and with her 
 permission we will give our readers a portion of 
 the letter. 
 
 Convalescent Hospital, 
 ; Annapolis, Md. 
 
 Oct. 5th, 1862. 
 Dearest Annie: 
 
 Here I am still in the hospital. I had hoped 
 when I wrote you last, I would write my next from 
 the convalescent camp near this place, or what 
 would be more pleasant, to greet you all at home, 
 which I might be able to do if I could only secure 
 
WOUNDED. 5 5 
 
 a furlough, but it seems they don't care to grant 
 furloughs to men in my condition. It would be 
 about as easy to secure a discharge, but I am hop* 
 ing day after day to be able to go back to the ranks. 
 If I could only get hold of something that would 
 taste good. Oh, how I would relish some of 
 mother's good apple-dumplings. I know they 
 would not hurt me. Four long months has it been 
 since I first came into the hospital. My wound has 
 about healed but it seems I cannot get away. 
 
 This is all we will give of the letter, as the rest 
 is not for our perusal. Annie received this missive 
 one cold snowy evening. Her mind had been ill 
 at ease of late, owing to Andrew's protracted ill- 
 ness, and the occasional attempts of Harry Wil- 
 liams to renew his suit. 
 
 She read the letter twice, then quietly putting 
 on her wraps she made her way in the twilight to 
 the home of Andrew's parents, for a thought had 
 taken possession of her mind, and with Annie to 
 think was to act. She had revealed the existing 
 state of affairs betwixt Andrew and herself to his 
 mother, when news first came of his being wounded 
 and the mother having loved her as a daughter, was 
 now more than ever pleased. Annie's visit though 
 late, was no surprise, as she came both early and 
 late. After laying aside her wraps, she came 
 
56 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 quickly to the object of her visit. "I have received 
 a letter from Andrew," she remarked as she took 
 the seat proffered her, and drawing it forth, pro- 
 ceeded to read that portion already known to our 
 readers. 
 
 When she came to the part wherein Andrew 
 spoke of it being about as easy to procure a dis- 
 charge as a furlough, she stopped and very em- 
 phatically said, "Why not try and get a discharge? 
 Andrew can recover better at home than there, and 
 when he gets well and strong, he can enlist again if 
 he wishes to." The father was only too glad to re- 
 ceive assistance in getting his boy home, so Judge 
 Preston was consulted, and the two interviewed 
 the Congressman of their district, and received his 
 promise to use his influence in Andrew's behalf. 
 
 It was not many days thereafter when an offi- 
 cial envelope was placed in Andrew's hands. He 
 eagerly opened it and drew forth a neatly folded 
 paper which, upon opening, proved to be an honor- 
 able discharge from the United States service for 
 disability arising from impaired health. 
 
 This was truly a surprise to the invalid. "How 
 came it all about? Who had taken so much inter- 
 est in him?" All day long Andrew puzzled his 
 brain to know by what means it was secured, but 
 no one seemed able to tell him. 
 
WOUNDED. 57 
 
 In the evening mail a letter came from Annie 
 and the mystery was solved, and now Andrew was 
 quite anxious to be on his way homeward. He re- 
 mained, however, until morning when, with the as- 
 sistance of some kind comrades, he made his way to 
 the depot and boarded the early express for home, 
 first having sent a telegraph message that he would 
 
 arrive at M , the nearest station to N , 
 
 about six P. M. of that same day. 
 
 The journey home was enjoyed by the invalid 
 soldier. The change of scene did him good, and he 
 felt a new fire in his veins as he gazed out of the car 
 window on the snow covered landscape fast flitting 
 by, and realized that every turn of the fast revolving 
 wheels brought him nearer home. In due time, 
 the train drew up at the station aforenamed, and 
 Andrew proceeded to alight. He had no sooner 
 reached the platform than his hand was quickly 
 grasped and heartily shaken by Adam Jones, the 
 hired man on the farm, whom Farmer Bentley had 
 sent to the station with the buggy to bring his son 
 home. 
 
 The ride was a short one, and soon Andrew was 
 in his mother's fond embrace. She could not but 
 notice the pale, wan cheek and pallid brow of her 
 boy, so much changed since that bright summer 
 
58 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 morning when he kissed her good-bye. But he 
 was still her Andrew, and nothing should be left un- 
 done to win him back to health and strength. 
 
 The aged father that evening in the family devo- 
 tions thanked the God of his Christian faith that 
 their boy was once more by their side. 
 
 Andrew slept soundly that night 'neath the 
 warm blankets which his mother tucked carefully 
 around him. In the morning he awoke, feeling 
 much refreshed and with a glad joy in his heart 
 that he was back in the old home and soon to greet 
 his loved one, for he felt sure Annie would seize the 
 first opportunity to run over. , 
 
 Breakfast being over and the house-work com- 
 pleted, Andrew was enjoying a pleasant chat with 
 his parents on various topics. He sat by the win- 
 dow out of which he cast furtive glances, for from 
 where he sat, he commanded a view of the pathway 
 running up through the orchard. All of a sudden 
 a joyous light lit up his face and he tremblingly 
 arose and approached the front door, for he had rec- 
 ognized a familiar form coming through the or- 
 chard. 
 
 His mother had noticed his frequent glances 
 from the window. She saw the glad look come 
 into his eyes, and with a woman's keen intuition she 
 
WOUNDED. 59 
 
 divined the cause. With a significant look at her 
 husband she quietly left the room, he soon follow- 
 ing her. 
 
 Annie had all morning been thinking of An- 
 drew. She knew he was to arrive the evening be- 
 fore, and the thought uppermost in her mind was 
 the propriety of her going to visit him, but then the 
 desire to see her lover was so great, and again, she 
 did not know when he might be able to visit the 
 Preston home. So after the morning work was 
 done, she smoothed back her dark tresses, putting 
 on a jaunty little walking hat, and throwing a wrap 
 over her shoulders, lightly tripped away in the di- 
 rection of Farmer Bentley's. Her heart was full 
 of joyous anticipation of soon standing face to face 
 with her soldier lover. 
 
 Andrew stood within the open doorway, a look 
 of eager expectation in his eyes. Annie hastened 
 up the walk and with a joyous cry of "Oh ! how glad 
 I am that you've come back," she was instantly 
 folded in his warm embrace. 
 
 As soon as she was released, she stepped back- 
 ward and took an earnest survey of her hero. The 
 ruddy bloom which was on his cheeks when he last 
 parted from her was gone, the once neatly fitting 
 uniform now looked as though it was several sizes 
 
6O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 too large. He smiled to see her scrutiny, for he 
 knew he was changed. 
 
 "Not quite up to expectations, am I?" 
 
 "Oh,Andrew how you must have suffered/' and 
 as she looked upon him with a face full of sympathy 
 and love, Andrew thought she had never appeared 
 so beautiful before. 
 
 "Yes, my dear girl, but I am feeling much im- 
 proved already, and I think I shall soon be on the 
 highway to complete health." And leading her to 
 a seat, they conversed for some time in low tones on 
 matters of interest only to themselves. 
 
 After a lapse of time, they were interrupted by 
 Andrew's mother entering the room. She greeted 
 Annie warmly. "Well, our soldier boy is back 
 with us again and we are all very happy," said the 
 old lady. 
 
 "Yes," replied Annie, "and we will do our best 
 to win him back to health and strength, though we 
 must try not to spoil him," and casting a mishiev- 
 ous glance at Andrew she said, "How about the 
 apple dumplings?" 
 
 "Yes, mother," said Andrew, "you know I was 
 always partial to that dish." 
 
 "Well," said the fond mother, "you shall have 
 
DRAFTED. 6 1 
 
 them, my dear boy, and anything the larder will af- 
 ford if it but does you good." 
 
 Annie spent a very pleasant time in the com- 
 pany of Andrew and his mother and the forenoon 
 was nearly gone when she reluctantly put on her 
 wraps and prepared to return home. 
 
 Andrew, although it required somewhat of an 
 effort, walked slowly down to the gate with her, 
 where they parted, Annie promising to come over 
 often, as long as Andrew was unable to walk about 
 much. 
 
 Thus the winter at home passed very pleasantly 
 to at least two of our characters. Andrew was 
 much interested in the war news, especially any- 
 thing pertaining to his old regiment. 
 
 The bloody battle of Fredericksburg had been 
 fought, and the Union loss was quite heavy. In 
 
 this engagement the Sixty , Penna., was 
 
 badly cut up in the forlorn attempt to storm a 
 stronghold back of the town called "Marye's 
 Heights." Many had fallen and Company A had 
 come in for its share of the mortality. Fortu- 
 nately Andrew's two comrades had escaped with- 
 out injury. Again had George Coulter shown 
 heroism, for which he had been rewarded with the 
 shoulder straps of a Lieutenant. 
 
62 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 DRAFTED. 
 
 INTER passed without much stir in the 
 quiet little village of N . An- 
 drew Bentley's health had improved 
 very much, and when he was able to 
 be about in the town, many were the interviews he 
 had with the neighbors, for they were never tired 
 listening to the incidents of army life. Quite often 
 these interviews were held in Squire Williams' 
 store, for the post-office had been awarded to the 
 Squire, and this brought in a goodly number of the 
 villagers, especially about mail-time. 
 
 Henry Williams took but very little interest in 
 Andrew's conversation. In fact he seemed to 
 avoid him, but this gave Andrew little concern as 
 he had never been on terms of intimacy with the 
 young man, and Annie had never revealed to him 
 that Henry aspired to a place in her affection. 
 
 The warm April sun was spreading its genial 
 influence throughout the land, and nature aroused 
 from her long winter sleep, began to bestir herself. 
 
DRAFTED. 63 
 
 Everywhere the bursting bud and blossom 
 could be seen robing hill and dale with a rich ves- 
 ture of colors. Andrew had regained much of his 
 usual strength, and quite often were he and Annie 
 to be found taking long strolls through the wood- 
 land, he gathering for her the rarest of wild flowers 
 that grew by the way. 
 
 They had in the months gone by, many conver- 
 sations regarding their future. As Andrew's health 
 returned, he kept urging upon Annie to name a day 
 for the consummation of his long cherished hopes. 
 Annie did not oppose his urgent entreaties, but ow- 
 ing to the serious illness of her dear mother, she felt 
 that she could not well name an early date for their 
 marriage. Recognizing the force of her argument, 
 Andrew did not urge the matter further upon her. 
 
 The days passed quietly to those at home, but 
 were fraught with activity to those at the front. 
 The telegraph brought the news of the terrible bat- 
 tle of Chancellorsville, which proved a defeat to the 
 Army of the Potomac. The change of command- 
 ers in the army had not the desired effect, but 
 seemed to bring disaster. A draft was made of 
 men throughout the North whose ages ranged be- 
 tween twenty-one and forty-five. 
 
64 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 And now happened a very strange and unex- 
 pected event in our little village. Andrew Bentley 
 barely recovered from a long period of convales- 
 cence, and holding an honorable discharge, was 
 among those drafted. It was an unprecedented 
 case which Andrew felt much like contesting, but it 
 seemed useless. Might triumphed over right, and 
 the time for his second departure drew near. An- 
 drew had fully purposed returning to the ranks, 
 but the thought was galling to have to return as a 
 conscript rather than a volunteer soldier. His 
 friends were all in sympathy with him, but that did 
 not help him any, so with a heavy heart he bade his 
 friends adieu. Annie did her best to cheer him up. 
 
 "Tis not my going back to the war, my dear 
 girl, but the way I am going," said Andrew de- 
 spondently. 
 
 "Yes, but you can still prove yourself a true sol- 
 dier," was the brave girl's reply. "Don't forget 
 your dead comrade's dying injunction, 'Never turn 
 your back upon the old flag.' God bless you, An- 
 drew, and may he bring you back safe again." 
 
 And with these words ringing in his ears, he 
 turned his steps homeward to take a last farewell 
 of his fond parents ere he proceeded to the place of 
 rendezvous for the drafted men. 
 
DRAFTED. 6$ 
 
 These men were not formed into separate or- 
 ganizations of their own, but were sent forward in 
 detachments to fill up depleted regiments, and by a 
 strange coincidence, Andrew was assigned to his 
 old company and regiment. 
 
 His greeting with the two friends with whom 
 he had first enlisted was a pleasant surprise on their 
 part, for they hardly expected to see him back 
 again and they had many questions to ask of home. 
 They could not fail to notice the depressed state of 
 Andrew's feelings, and they felt anxious to know 
 the cause. It was only by close questioning they 
 learned that Andrew was not in the ranks as a vol- 
 unteer soldier, but a conscript, and this was far from 
 a pleasant reflection to one of as high nervous tem- 
 perament as he was. 
 
 Andrew found the personnel of the regiment 
 much changed. The Colonel who first took the 
 regiment out had been promoted to the command 
 of a brigade, and this brought a change to many oi 
 the other officers down the line. In his own 
 company, the Captain had resigned and returned 
 home, and the first lieutenant having been killed 
 at Chancellorsville, the company was now com- 
 manded by Captain George Coulter, who bore his 
 honors modestly. Alpheus Forrest had been pro- 
 
 5 
 
66 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 moted to the position of Color Sergeant, and to him 
 was entrusted the colors of the regiment which from 
 all appearance gave evidence of having seen some 
 hard service. 
 
 Andrew fell gradually back into the groove of a 
 soldier's life ; he was always ready for duty, prompt 
 in obedience, respectful to his superiors, was never 
 heard to murmur, but with all this he seemed and 
 acted, just what he was, "a conscript soldier." On 
 the march or in the battle, he was always found in 
 his place, but never exhibiting the enthusiasm that 
 characterized him in the earlier days of his soldier 
 life. He wrote and received long letters from his 
 Annie, and thus the days passed on. Marches 
 were made, battles were fought, and still the war 
 continued, and the capture of Richmond seemed as 
 far qff as ever to the struggling Union Army. 
 
 The draft that called Andrew Bentley from his 
 sweetheart's side, also called Squire Williams from 
 the grocery store. The Squire lacked only a few 
 years from being exempt from the draft. But the 
 fiat had gone forth, and he must go as a soldier or 
 furnish a substitute. How to leave his business in- 
 terests and family was now a quandary. While 
 the Squire was intensely patriotic, it was largely of 
 the stay at home kind of patriotism. 
 
DRAFTED. 6/ 
 
 His son was physically qualified to take his 
 father's place, but Henry was at heart a coward, and 
 never seemed to take an interest in war matters 
 like the youth of the neighborhood. 
 
 After giving the matter a good deal of serious 
 thought, and the time drawing nigh for the con- 
 scripts to report for duty, Squire Williams broached 
 the subject to his son, and while he did not meet 
 with a positive refusal from him, there was in 
 Henry's manner that which did not offer his father 
 much encouragement. 
 
 The Squire was in trouble; he felt that he was 
 poorly able to go himself, and that he should 
 hardly be expected to do so, when he had a son to 
 take his place. True, he might possibly hire a 
 substitute as others had done, but this would re- 
 quire quite a sum of money, for large bounties had 
 been offered and paid by those who were able to 
 do so. 
 
 The Squire had not in hand much ready cash, 
 for it seemed that of late since Henry presided in 
 the store for some cause or other, trade had fallen 
 off and many of their former customers had trans- 
 ferred their patronage to a rival store in a little vil- 
 lage two miles down the road. 
 
 But something had to be done; so the Squire 
 
68 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 and his good wife held a conference, and it was de- 
 cided to make Henry the proffer of a little stock of 
 gold the old couple had laid by for a possible rainy 
 day. Only a few hundred dollars, but they thought 
 the claims of a father upon a son should count for 
 something. 
 
 Henry was called in, and the father, after re- 
 counting o'er the many things that stood in the 
 way of his going to the war, finished up with a re- 
 minder to his son, that he was asking him to do no 
 more than many another young man had volun- 
 tarily done, but as he knew Henry was just enter- 
 ing upon manhood and would need some little 
 start in life, he stated his willingness to place in his 
 hands their little savings for years, and he poured 
 forth upon the table from a small canvas bag his 
 stock of gold. 
 
 Henry's cupidity was at once aroused and draw- 
 ing nigh he asked, while his gaze rested on the glit- 
 tering coin, "How much have you there, father?" 
 
 "Only a few hundred dollars, my son, and it is 
 yours, together with a father's and mother's grat- 
 itude, if you but take my place in the ranks." 
 
 Henry had a little fund of his own laid by, and 
 the thought came to his mind that with a few hun- 
 dred more, that he might exact from his father, 
 
DRAFTED. 69 
 
 he could realize a long cherished desire to secure 
 some real estate of his own, and Henry's mercenary 
 principle being so strongly predominant in his 
 make-up, he did not hesitate to reduce his parents, 
 if necessary, to a very narrow existence so he might 
 accumulate more wealth. Therefore he did not 
 readily respond to his father's request, for he fully 
 realized his father would make a greater sacrifice to 
 save himself from serving as a soldier. And again, 
 Henry felt he had something else to aspire to in 
 preference to placing himself between his father and 
 rebel bullets and bayonets. 
 
 He further knew his father held a mortgage 
 against Farmer Bentley, payable in gold, and there 
 being a high premium on gold just at that time, he 
 knew it would require quite an effort, perhaps a 
 sacrifice of their little farm, for the Bentley's to lift 
 the mortgage should payment be demanded, and 
 Henry felt that it would be gratifying to humble 
 the family ; Andrew, at least. 
 
 So with a view to the possession of this paper, 
 he made reply to his parents, dwelling at length 
 on the risk he was taking, and the great sacrifice 
 he would make in giving up the comforts of home, 
 and the brilliant prospects of a young man at his 
 time of life. He casually let drop that if a further 
 
7O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 inducement might be offered, he would consider 
 going away. 
 
 "My son/* replied the father, "you have now 
 been offered all the available funds I have at com- 
 mand." 
 
 "Father, you make a mistake ; do you not hold 
 a judgment against Farmer Bentley that you can 
 realize money upon? This, with what you have al- 
 ready offered me might be sufficent to induce me 
 to become a target for the bullets of the enemy," 
 and as he spoke his tone was cold and devoid of any 
 warmth of affection or feeling. 
 
 "Yes, I do hold a mortgage against Farmer 
 Bentley, but my son, why do you ask this of me? 
 You know my promise to him when I took the 
 mortgage on his place was that as long as he paid 
 the interest promptly I would not foreclose it with- 
 out giving him plenty of time. Besides, you know, 
 my son, it will all be yours after my death." 
 
 True enough, father," replied Henry, "but I 
 have no doubt if Andrew Bentley were free to go in 
 your place, you would gladly surrender to him the 
 document, and surely my life should be considered 
 worth as much as his, besides I have plans of my 
 own. I have a little stock of money which added 
 to the mortgage might enable me sometime to own 
 
DRAFTED. /I 
 
 the Bentley homestead, to which I might wish to 
 conduct a bride should I be permitted to return 
 from the war." 
 
 "My son, are you not satisfied to wait for that 
 which will be eventually yours? You know my 
 promise to Andrew's father, and I could not think 
 of forcing him to make a sacrifice now, when his 
 own son has been drafted back into the army. The 
 boy went cheerfully at first, with no promise of 
 recompense above a soldier's meagre pay." 
 
 At the father's allusion to the patriotism of An- 
 drew, Henry's lip curled and he curtly replied: 
 "Well, if your feeling for the Bentley's stand in your 
 way, I have nothing more to say," and picking up 
 his hat he quickly walked out of the room into the 
 store for he felt in his heart that his father would be 
 obliged to yield, and Henry had fully made up his 
 mind to possess the Bentley farm, if for no other 
 purpose than to flaunt the fact of the poverty of the 
 Bentley's in the face of Annie Preston in case of a 
 final refusal of her hand. 
 
 On the evening of the day on which the inter- 
 view occurred Henry's father placed in his hand the 
 bag of gold, saying that on the morrow they would 
 go before a notary and he would convey the mort- 
 gage papers over to Henry. 
 
72 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Need we say Henry had conflicting dreams that 
 night? The prospect of owning the home of the 
 Bentley's gave him a feeling of great satisfaction, 
 for he was almost confident that if he would fore- 
 close the mortgage, Farmer Bentley would not be 
 able to provide for it as it was payable in gold. 
 Then his going away to the war, and possibly shar- 
 ing a fate like that of Phineas Gray, were thoughts 
 that kept Henry awake for a long time. But after 
 reasoning the thing in his mind, he concluded that 
 not every one who goes into battle gets shot. So 
 mentally resolving that he would keep out of all 
 possible danger he fell asleep, not to dream of honor 
 on the battlefield, but of a new scheme of amassing 
 wealth. 
 
 The next day Henry became possessor of the 
 papers held against his neighbor, which he left in 
 charge of the notary for future instructions, and 
 ere the close of the day he had donned the blue of 
 a Union soldier, and taken his father's place as one 
 of the mighty host enrolled to preserve the honor of 
 the grand old Union. 
 
 The new conscripts were soon sent to the front, 
 and Henry found himself assigned to a regiment in 
 the same brigade as the one in which George Coul- 
 ter, Alpheus Forrest and Andrew Bentley were 
 serving. 
 
DRAFTED. 73 
 
 Camp life did not meet Henry's expectations, 
 and guard duty he abhorred. In fact he despised 
 everything pertaining to a soldier. Hard-tack and 
 salt pork were good enough to sell over his father's 
 counter, but to eat it and make long marches upon 
 it, was another thing. Besides, Henry had met 
 with a great disappointment before leaving home 
 that had preyed upon his mind. 
 
 He had again managed to have an interview 
 with Annie Preston, and told her of his high resolve 
 (so he put it) of taking his father's place and risking 
 his life for home and country, and now would she 
 not cherish in her heart a little feeling of affection 
 for one who was willing to sacrifice so much? 
 
 But alas for Henry. Annie's father that morn- 
 ing had been over to the office of Attorney Hart- 
 man, and he had there noticed a legal document ly- 
 ing open upon the attorney's desk which the no- 
 tary, who was present, remarked was the price 
 Squire Williams had evidently to pay for a substi- 
 tute. 
 
 Of course Judge Preston knew at once that the 
 Squire's own son Henry was the substitute, and this 
 news he repeated at the dinner table. So when 
 Henry began his parade of filial duty, and the glory 
 of being a Union soldier, Annie's heart filled with 
 
74 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 a contempt for this "prating hireling" soldier, 
 which she felt like calling him, and as she looked 
 upon him, the blue in his blouse faded into a miser- 
 able gray, in comparison with that of her own 
 brave Andrew's uniform, as memory called up that 
 morning when he first stood before her pleading 
 for her hand. 
 
 Therefore, Henry met with a cold refusal to 
 even hold correspondence with him while away. 
 And in his heart there was a feeling which boded 
 no good for Andrew Bentley, whom he was sure 
 was the barrier that stood in his way, so he made a 
 sinister remark that she might some day learn with 
 surprise of the change in the social standing of 
 some of her neighbors. 
 
 The fair girl's spirit was aroused by his manner 
 and words, for she well knew to whom Henry had 
 reference. She knew he now held a mortgage 
 against Andrew's father and that he would not hes- 
 itate to take a mean advantage of the old gentle- 
 man if he thought he could in this way wreak a re- 
 venge upon his son. 
 
 With eyes from which flashed the light of defi- 
 ance, mingled with abhorrence for the cowardly 
 craven before her, she addressed him. "Henry 
 Williams! You measure a man by the houses, 
 
DRAFTED. 75 
 
 lands, chattels and mortgages he may possess. I 
 measure by the high soul of honor I may know him 
 to have. His wealth to me, lies in his character 
 and manly principle, and the worth of a soldier to 
 his country and her cause is manifested most by 
 voluntary offering of himself, without the consider- 
 ation of bonds and gold." Henry's gaze quailed 
 before the flashing orbs of the proud girl, for he 
 felt that somehow or other she knew the price re- 
 quired to make him a soldier, and it was with a feel- 
 ing in which mortification, disappointment and an- 
 ger were equally blended, that he took his hat, and 
 not even deigning a parting salute he left her pres- 
 ence. 
 
 While he felt he would give all he was worth to 
 win that girl, if for no other purpose than to defeat 
 his rival, he vowed in his heart, as he walked 
 homeward, that if it lay within his power, Andrew 
 Bentley should never be permitted to lay claim to 
 the hand of the fair Annie Preston. 
 
76 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE LONELY PICKET. 
 
 HUS we find Henry doing duty as a sol- 
 dier with none of the love that charac- 
 terizes a martial spirit. No love for the 
 cause in which he was engaged, impelled 
 him on to a fulfillment of the work assigned to him 
 by his superiors. His was a slavish servitude. No 
 cheering letter from a sweetheart at home to buoy 
 him up. 
 
 He had not as yet met Andrew, or any of those 
 
 who first went out from N , although they 
 
 were often in close proximity, as we have hereto- 
 fore mentioned, the regiment in which the N 
 
 patriots were serving being in the same brigade, 
 they oft times occupied adjoining camps. 
 
 Month after month passed by without much 
 event to the soldier's life, but with Henry Williams 
 the time passed heavily. His unpleasant manner 
 made him to be detested by his messmates, and 
 they soon learned that he was at heart a coward, so 
 
THE LONELY PICKET. 77 
 
 it was not long before they showed their contempt 
 for the cowardly conscript, as he was often called. 
 
 Henry had never given up the thought of 
 wreaking vengeance upon Andrew Bentley, and if 
 possible effect his downfall. But the life of a sol- 
 dier became so galling he resolved in some way or 
 other to secure a discharge from the service. 
 
 Nothing appeared to him more feasible than to 
 counterfeit an illness of some kind, so it was not 
 long after this thought entered his head, that one 
 morning at roll call Private Williams was reported 
 to be lying in his tent sick, so when the orderly ser- 
 geant drew aside the flaps of his tent and looked in, 
 there lay Henry apparently unable to rise, and suf- 
 fering great pain from what he claimed to be an at- 
 tack of muscular rheumatism, which he feared he 
 had contracted while on picket duty in the swamps 
 of the Chickahominy. He presented such a de- 
 plorable picture of anguish that the ever kind 
 hearted sergeant called a couple of men to bring a 
 stretcher and Henry was immediately carried off to 
 the hospital near by, where he was soon waited up- 
 on by the surgeon in charge who, after carefully 
 diagnosing his case, all the while the sufferer pro- 
 testing that great pain attended his every move- 
 ment, he wisely shook his head, but recommended 
 
78 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 that the patient be put upon a diet and be envel- 
 oped in cotton batting and covered carefully with 
 warm woollen blankets. He left for him a decoc- 
 tion to produce a profuse sweating, for in his heart 
 the honest old doctor thought the soldier was 
 shamming, but he meant to give him something 
 else to think about beside rheumatic pains. 
 
 The weather being warm, the condition of the 
 would-be sick man was by no means an enviable 
 one. But he was in for it, and Henry felt he could 
 afford to bear a little discomfort in the hope of get- 
 ting at last free from the army, and he determined 
 that he would never make an attempt to walk until 
 he held his discharge in his hand, and then he could 
 laugh in the face of those in authority over him. So 
 days went by and Henry still lingered in the hos- 
 pital apparently not getting any better. 
 
 He had written of his condition to his father, 
 and had urged upon him to procure a discharge for 
 him if possible to do so, and the fond old father, be- 
 lieving his son to be really in great distress, exerted 
 all his powers to secure for Henry the much desired 
 discharge. First he applied to Judge Preston to 
 use his influence, but strange to say, the always 
 obliging Judge did not seem to manifest any inter- 
 est in the matter. 
 
THE LONELY PICKET. 79 
 
 The member of Congress from ,that district 
 was next applied to, but as he had shortly before 
 interested himself in securing for the Squire the 
 post-office, he felt that just then his influence might 
 be somewhat impaired. However, with a politic- 
 ian's usual diplomacy, he put the father off with 
 the promise that he would see what he could do. 
 This the fond parent wrote to his son and Henry, 
 hanging upon this slender thread of promise, still 
 kept up the show of great pain while he watched 
 and waited for the much wished for discharge. 
 
 It was during his stay in the hospital that Henry 
 made the acquaintance of a strange character that 
 had been brought into the same ward in which he 
 lay and placed upon the cot next to him. This 
 man had been wounded by a bayonet thrust, re- 
 ceived in an attempt to pass the guard without a 
 permit. He had been lounging about the camp for 
 some time. No one appeared to know where he 
 came from, nor did he seem connected with any 
 part of the army, merely a camp follower. He ap- 
 peared to be a harmless sort of a person, always 
 willing to do turns for the officers at headquarters, 
 around which he passed most of his time. How- 
 ever, it was noticed that every now and then he ab- 
 sented himself, but it was always for only a brief pe- 
 
8O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 riod, so no investigation of his conduct was made. 
 He never was talkative, but always seemed to be 
 quietly observant. There was at one time a slight 
 suspicion that he might be in camp for a purpose, 
 but this had been dismissed until his late attempt 
 to force a passage of the guard. Then it was de- 
 cided that a court of investigation be held just as 
 soon as he was able to be removed from the hos- 
 pital. 
 
 This man lying so close to the discontented 
 Henry soon made his acquaintance and learned of 
 his disgust of army life and his actual indifference 
 as to the success of the Union arms. He further 
 learned that Henry's affliction was assumed, for the 
 purpose of procuring a discharge, which he assured 
 his auditor would surely come as he had a letter 
 from home promising him political influenece. 
 
 It was then the wounded man in confidence re- 
 vealed to Henry his true identity. He was in the 
 role of a spy, gathering his information and plac- 
 ing it in the hands of a trusty messenger outside the 
 lines, who being mounted, quickly carried it to the 
 Confederate forces, while the spy would return to 
 camp, his short absence not being suspected as 
 amounting to anything. 
 
 It was upon one of these excursions that he had 
 
THE LONELY PICKET. 8 1 
 
 received the wound which was now nearly healed. 
 He said that he feared an investigation might be 
 made after he would leave the hospital and he was 
 in doubt whether he could satisfy the officers re- 
 garding his actions. 
 
 Henry had been thinking a great deal of how 
 he might get even with Andrew Bentley before he 
 would get his discharge, which he still hoped would 
 be forthcoming, when a fiendish thought came to 
 his mind. Why not use this man to accomplish his 
 evil designs upon Bentley? 
 
 He accordingly embraced the first opportunity 
 to interview the spy, for such we must now call 
 him. Henry found him quite willing to enter into 
 any conspiracy that would benefit himself and work 
 injury to one of the hated Yankees. The spy was 
 given a description of Andrew Bentley, and at his 
 earliest convenience he was to go over to the camp 
 
 of the Sixty Penna. and learn to know the 
 
 form and figure of his proposed victim by sight. 
 He was to learn of the time and place when Andrew 
 would be upon picket line. Henry agreed to pay 
 a handsome price for the capture and imprison- 
 ment of his rival, with the hope that he might not 
 survive the horrible prison pens of the South. 
 
 He further urged upon the spy to lose no op- 
 
 6 
 
32 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 portunity to forever silence his prisoner if he should 
 prove troublesome. The compact was made and 
 in a short time, the spy's wound having healed, he 
 left the hospital. 
 
 It was midnight in the marshes along the banks 
 of the Rappahannock. The moon struggling be- 
 hind heavy clouds emitted but a faint light. Small 
 objects could be scarcely outlined at even a short 
 distance. The piping of the frogs in the swamp 
 near by had ceased, and naught was heard but the 
 occasional hoot of an owl in a distant tree-top. 
 
 A soldier with his musket carelessly extended 
 across his shoulder, paced silently to and fro o'er 
 his lonely beat. Ever and anon he would pause 
 and listen, and then again resume his walk. 
 
 Reaching the stump of a large tree that had 
 been broken off half way up by one of the fierce 
 storms which had lately swept over that region, 
 felling the giants of the forest before it, the soldier 
 removing his musket from his shoulder, leaned 
 against the broken stump in silence. His mind 
 was resting upon scenes far from those around him. 
 His thoughts were dwelling just then upon a home 
 scene away among the hills of Western Pennsylva- 
 nia. An aged father and a silvery haired mother 
 came up before him and he saw them in memory's 
 
THE LONELY PICKET. J 83 
 
 vision even as they were no doubt at that moment, 
 locked in slumber's embrace in their own peaceful 
 home, perhaps dreaming of their soldier boy away 
 at the war. 
 
 Then a vision of loveliness came up in fancy's 
 dream before him and he was again gazing down 
 into the liquid orbs, of to him, the fairest maiden in 
 all the Northland, and he pressed his hand upon the 
 pocket of his army blouse in which rested his moth- 
 er's Bible and his sweetheart's last letter to him. 
 
 This silent reverie might have continued for 
 some time, but Andrew Bentley, for such the reader 
 has no doubt recognized the lonely picket to be, 
 was quickly brought back to his present surround- 
 ings by the crackling of twigs which seemed to 
 emanate from the neighborhood of the broken 
 tree-top. 
 
 He at once quickly grasped his gun and pro- 
 ceeded to reconnoitre. It proved to be only an old 
 worn out army mule that appeared to be cropping 
 the buds from the branches of the fallen tree-top. 
 
 Andrew waited patiently, while he closely 
 watched for further movements of his quadruped 
 visitor. There was one thing that puzzled him: 
 How did the mule get there? Surely he thought 
 he should have noticed its approach. And if it had 
 
84 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 been there when he made his other round, why had 
 he not noticed it before? He did not wish to draw 
 upon his imagination, but surely it seemed to him 
 as if that mule at one time asumed a stooping pos- 
 ture, which he had never known the old mule on 
 his father's farm to attempt to do. Now it may be 
 only fancy, but did he not see the glitter of some- 
 thing like polished steel? He wished the moon- 
 light might be only a little brighter so he could see 
 a bit clearer. He did not wish to fire and need- 
 lessly alarm the guard, but he had heard of an ap- 
 proach to lonely pickets by animals that in the end 
 did not prove to be animals. Surely this was one 
 of the long-eared gentry and no mistake, but then it 
 moves awkwardly for a mule. It must be badly 
 crippled and broken down, and if so, better be dead 
 than living in misery. What if he should arouse 
 the guard? He could easily explain the matter, 
 and claim the light was uncertain. 
 
 Andrew had no sooner reached this point of his 
 reasoning than he quickly raised his musket, took 
 aim and fired. He felt almost certain that as he 
 took a hasty aim the animal appeared to be in a 
 crouching posture. But as he fired there seemed 
 to ring out on the night air a cry of human anguish. 
 The report of the gun disturbed the owl in his re- 
 
THE LONELY PICKET. 8$ 
 
 treat, and with a dismal hoot he flapped his wings 
 and flew farther into the wood. Waiting a moment 
 for the smoke from his piece, which hung heavily 
 in the damp atmosphere, to clear away, Andrew 
 cautiously made his way to the fallen animal, which 
 seemed to be in its death throes. 
 
 As he reached its side, the struggling moon 
 breaking from the cloud that had partly obscured 
 it, now beamed forth in all its brilliancy, lighting 
 up the thicket, and revealing toAndrew, Oh, hor- 
 ror! not a dying animal, but a human form envel- 
 oped within the mule skin, holding in one hand a 
 murderous looking knife, which judging from his 
 present condition, he was not likely to use much, for 
 as Andrew stooped and drew aside the folds of 
 skin, the knife dropped and the man clapping both 
 hands to his side, he vainly attempted to staunch 
 the flow of blood which issued from a gaping wound 
 in his side, made by the bullet from Andrew's mus- 
 ket. 
 
 The wounded man was making a heroic strug- 
 gle for his life, and the soldier seeing this gently 
 withdrew him from the skin which surrounded him, 
 and placed him in a more comfortable position, 
 after which he gave him a draught of water from 
 his canteen which seemed to revive him somewhat. 
 
86 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Just at this moment the Corporal of the guard 
 came hurrying up to learn the cause of the alarm, 
 which Andrew explained to him. 
 
 The Corporal at once recognized in the form of 
 the prostrate man the individual who had attempted 
 at a previous time to force his way past the guard, 
 from whom he had received the bayonet wound 
 which had sent him to the hospital. He mentioned 
 this to Andrew who, taking a closer survey of the 
 man's features, recognized him as the one he had 
 seen loitering around the Colonel's headquarters 
 only a short time before, but at the time had given 
 him no further thought. 
 
 "What are we going to do, Corporal?" said 
 Andrew. "We are quite a distance from the hos- 
 pital, and this poor fellow is sadly in need of atten- 
 tion." He had stooped, and with his handkerchief 
 was trying to stay the flow of the poor fellow's life- 
 blood. "It is almost an hour before the relief guard 
 will be around and he will suffer much in that time, 
 perhaps die." 
 
 The wounded spy looked up with amazement at 
 the show of compassion in the man whom he had 
 been hired to capture or kill. And here he was 
 talking about trying to save him from unnecessary 
 suffering. True, he had fallen through the uner- 
 
THE LONELY PICKET. 8/ 
 
 ring aim of the picket, but such were the fates of 
 war. He further realized that he had received a 
 mortal wound and had not long to live. 
 
 He beckoned for them both to draw near. 
 They did so and knelt upon the dewy grass at his 
 side. He motioned for another drink from the 
 canteen, which Andrew hastened to give him, rais- 
 ing him up a little so he could rest easier. And then 
 they heard from lips growing fast pale with the ashy 
 hue of death, a dying confession. 
 
 "Boys, there aint no use doin' anything for me. 
 I'm pretty near a goner. Just let me die and be 
 buried here. Old Virginia's soil is a good enough 
 resting place for any son of the sunny South. But 
 I did hope to have them lay this worthless hulk of 
 mine along side my kindred in the old burying- 
 ground on the banks of the Brazos." 
 
 He was a Texan and belonged to that famous 
 organization known as the Texas Rangers. 
 
 That he was a spy he did not deny, but his 
 work was done. Why he was there, at that time 
 and place, he wanted to tell them before he died. 
 
 Andrew seeing his strength failing, and his 
 voice growing husky, hastened to moisten his lips 
 with the remaining water in the canteen. Then 
 with a great effort and in broken sentences the 
 
88 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 dying Texan related his meeting with Henry Wil- 
 liams in the hospital, and Henry's confession of his 
 dislike for the service and his pretended illness in 
 order to secure a discharge. 
 
 The dying man, feeling he ought to make a 
 clean breast of it, revealed all of the plot. How he 
 was to capture Andrew Bentley on the picket line 
 and carry him off to a Southern Prison, and in event 
 of a prospective rescue or escape, to not hesitate to 
 take his life, and thus win a large reward from 
 Henry Williams. Andrew, who had been listen- 
 ing with intense interest to this recital, which so 
 much concerned himself, now started to his feet, 
 exclaiming: "What! Henry Williams, my fellow 
 schoolmate, plotting to take my life? Impossible ! 
 I know of no reason for it ; I never did him an un- 
 kindness in my life; I cannot believe it! Surely 
 you must be mistaken." 
 
 The dying man lifted his fast glazing eyes to- 
 ward Andrew. "I swear by the God of my fathers 
 I have not lied to you ; but I was a fool to accept his 
 bribe, for what is his gold compared to my life. 
 And to die in this manner ; I had hoped that if death 
 came to me, it would be on the battlefield close to 
 the Bonnie Blue flag of the Southern Confederacy. 
 I am glad that my little girl will never know 
 
THE LONELY PICKET. 89 
 
 how her old dad " He was not per- 
 mitted to finish the sentence for a rush of crimson 
 blood burst from his mouth, and with a quiver he 
 fell back dead, and lay with wide-open eyes, as 
 though trying to pierce through the long distance 
 that lay between him and his loved ones in the Lone 
 Star State. 
 
 With a feeling of sadness they placed the bat- 
 tered hide, within which he had met his death 
 wound, over his lifeless body, and Andrew resum- 
 ing his neglected vigil, he was ere long relieved by 
 a change of guard. 
 
 He puzzled his brain to conjecture the motive 
 Henry Williams had for wishing him out of the 
 way. That he did so, was clearly patent to his 
 mind, but for what reason he was at a loss to know. 
 
 Andrew had no thought that he was a possible 
 rival of Henry's, for Annie had never at any time 
 mentioned to him that Henry was a suitor for her 
 hand. He did not deem it best to make any charge 
 against Henry who was still in the hospital. He 
 decided to patiently abide his time ; but he had a 
 confidential interview with the Colonel of Henry's 
 regiment. 
 
 We are not prepared to say what passed in that 
 interview. This we do know, that the next day 
 
9O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 the Captain of Henry's company received notice 
 from his superior officer to see that Private Wil- 
 liams, now in the hospital, be returned to the ranks, 
 and it was with considerable surprise and no little 
 chagrin that Henry found himself unceremoniously 
 hustled out of the hospital and back into the ranks 
 where the story of his pretended affliction getting 
 out, he was constantly guyed by his comrades who 
 dubbed him "Old Roomatix," which name never 
 left him while he remained in the army. 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE 9 1 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. 
 
 LL was activity within the Union lines. 
 Orders had been issued for the different 
 branches (Artillery, Infantry and Caval- 
 ry) to be ready for a forced march. Ra- 
 tions had been issued, camp equipage 
 had been loaded into the army wagons, ordnance 
 brought up, and ere long there was a steady stream 
 of men, horses and wagons pouring Northward. 
 
 That division of the Army Corps, in which the 
 characters in our story marched, crossed the Poto- 
 mac near Point of Rocks, and pursued their course 
 Northward through Maryland ; passing close by 
 the battle ground of Antietam, they soon crossed 
 the boundary line and were treading the soil of the 
 Keystone state. 
 
 It had now become pretty well known through- 
 out the ranks why the army was hurrying North- 
 ward. Rumors had reached them of Lee's invas- 
 ion of Pennsylvania, and all sorts of stories were 
 
92 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 rife. Some went to say that his objective point was 
 to lay Philadelphia in ashes and move on to the de- 
 struction of New York City. These rumors only 
 served to lend strength and energy to the march- 
 ing Union host in order to cross his path and inter- 
 cept the inroad of the rebel horde. 
 
 On they marched, only pausing now and again 
 for a short resting spell. Many of the boys in blue 
 with the true characteristics of a soldier, immedi- 
 ately set about starting a little fire over which was 
 placed the familiar black tin cup, for the purpose of 
 making that panacea for a tired soldier, namely, a 
 cup of coffee. But often times before the task was 
 completed, or the odor of the fragrant coffee 
 greeted the olfactories of the waiting soldier, the 
 command was given, "Form ranks! Attention! 
 Route step ! March !" and file after file moved on- 
 ward. The soldier oft times carrying his coffee cup 
 in his hand sipping of its contents as he marched. 
 
 Everywhere the inhabitants of the section 
 through which they were passing came out and 
 greeted them warmly, for they were not marching 
 through an enemy's country, and within the ranks 
 of the passing host were fathers and brothers of 
 many a Northern home circle. 
 
 Away on their left rose the ridges of the Blue 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. 9$ 
 
 Mountains, darkly outlined against the clear June 
 sky. Hark ! What's that which comes to the ear 
 of the soldier? 
 
 It sounds like the heavy roll of distant thunder, 
 but the practiced ear recognizes in the deep rum- 
 bling the sound of heavy artillery firing, and he 
 knows at once 'tis the boom of the Union guns, 
 checking the advance of Lee. 
 
 At once a ringing cheer bursts forth, caps are 
 tossed high in the air, swords are waved and even 
 the artillery horses recognizing the familiar sound, 
 pricked up their ears, neighed, and with arching 
 necks pranced along apparently eager for the fray, 
 while by a happy thought the band strikes up that 
 patriotic air, "Rally round the flag, boys," and 
 throughout the long line of marchers comes a 
 quicker, firmer step, as they press forward. All 
 the while the roar of the cannon on the heights 
 around Gettysburg growing more clear and dis- 
 tinct. The shades of evening gather, but no orders 
 are issued to go into camp for the night. Only a 
 short halt is made to enable the horses to get a feed 
 of oats, and the soldier to make his black coffee to 
 moisten the hard tack found in his haversack. 
 
 Soon the bugle call is sounded, and the vast 
 throng moves on. Many a soldier boy of that gal- 
 
94 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 lant army ready to sink with exhaustion, but on 
 they go ; the one consuming desire of both officers 
 and men is to reach the scene of conflict which was 
 now being waged around the quaint old town pre- 
 viously mentioned, and which ever since has been 
 made famous in history. 
 
 Reports have now come to the advancing col- 
 umn that the First Corps, under the gallant Rey- 
 nolds, has been all day contesting the advance of 
 the legions of Lee on Seminary Ridge. Later 
 came the sad news of the death of this brave officer, 
 who poured out his life's blood in the gallant de- 
 fense of his own State. 
 
 As the battle of Gettysburg has been so often 
 graphically described, we will not enter into an ac- 
 count of it, more than to relate the part taken by 
 those with whom our story has to deal. 
 
 The regiment in which Andrew Bentley and his 
 companions served, as well as the one in which 
 Henry Williams was forced to march much 
 against his will being thrown closely together, 
 they participated largely in the same scenes of bat- 
 tle. 
 
 About midnight they arrived upon the field, 
 and a halt was called, the men lying down upon 
 their arms in the attempt to snatch a few hours 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. 9$ 
 
 rest before the coming dawn. The last sleep for 
 many a poor soldier boy before he slept "the sleep 
 that knows no waking." 
 
 At an early hour the reveille was sounded, fol- 
 lowed soon by the call to arms. The soldier not 
 having time to make a fire, hastily swallowed such 
 food as he had remaining in his haversack, munch- 
 ing it as he fell into line. As they advanced, evi- 
 dences of the havoc wrought by the implements of 
 war the preceding day were noticeable in the for- 
 est trees that had been cut and perforated by the 
 flying shot and shell, and soon the ground about 
 them showed plainly how fierce the contest had 
 been for the supremacy. All about them lay the 
 bodies of the slain. 
 
 "Friend and foe in one red burial blent." 
 Dead horses and broken down artillery, cais- 
 sons, mingled with the soldier dead of both sides. 
 
 To many, this was a familiar sight, but to Henry 
 Williams who had never even seen a battlefield, or 
 taken part in a conflict, the sight of so much de- 
 struction of life completely un-nerved him, and he 
 felt that if he were back home he would not risk the 
 chances he was now obliged to take for a mortgage 
 on all the frams in old Westmoreland County ; but 
 
90 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 here he was, and to use a common expression, "in 
 for it," though he inwardly quaked with fear. 
 
 Shortly after they commenced to move, the 
 column passed through long lines of soldiers who 
 were resting after their conflict of the day before ; 
 many of them still locked in slumber, but those who 
 were stirring, cheered them loudly for they had 
 been almost alone in the fight of the preceding day, 
 reinforcements not having reached them until after 
 the battle had ceased with the coming of night. 
 The wounded had been hastily gathered to the im- 
 provised "Field Hospital," and here the surgeons 
 were busily at work, while the groans of the suffer- 
 ers were enough to strike terror to the bravest 
 heart. 
 
 The marching column passed on, and soon de- 
 bouched across the open plain, to the piece of 
 ground lying at the foot of Round Top. Here the 
 command prepared to go into action, and a detail 
 being made to guard some of the effects they could 
 not well carry into battle. It was Harry Williams' 
 happy lot to be among those selected and thus it 
 was that he escaped the terrible fighting that 
 shortly took place in what was known to the soldier 
 at that time as "The Wheat Field" and "Sherfy's 
 Peach Orchard," and it was here the Union army 
 suffered the loss of many brave men. 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. 97 
 
 Our friends from N passed through it 
 
 unscathed, though many a gallant lad was forced to 
 bite the dust. 
 
 Later in the day the entire brigade was drawn 
 from this part of the field, and sent to the vicinity 
 of what is known as "Gulp's Hill" to support the 
 batteries there. It was at this time that Henry's 
 regiment was ordered to charge, and if possible, dis- 
 lodge a body of the enemy that had been pouring 
 a galling fire upon the famous Knapp's Battery, 
 and picking off the gunners so they could with dif- 
 ficulty man the guns. 
 
 Now was coming a critical time in the life of 
 one man who had already shown his dislike for war 
 and carnage ; but watching every place for a loop 
 hole of escape, Henry was borne unconsciously on- 
 ward. At this juncture the battery poured forth its 
 final volley prior to the advance of the infantry, 
 and it was under cover of the smoke from the guns 
 that the charge was made. "Steady men!" came 
 the clear command from the old white haired Col- 
 onel of the regiment, followed by "Charge Bayo- 
 nets !" And then burst forth a wild ringing cheer 
 from the command as they dashed forward through 
 the protecting clouds of smoke. Here was Henry's 
 long looked for opportunity. 
 
 7 
 
98 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 The cowardly instinct of the man always pre- 
 dominant, now asserted itself and he no sooner be- 
 came enveloped in the smoke from the guns of the 
 battery, and thus hidden for a short time from the 
 sight of his comrades, than Henry Williams threw 
 aside his musket and made his way rapidly back 
 towards the rear. What cared he whether his 
 comrades would be successful in the charge or not? 
 All principle of honor was lost in him. 
 
 Henry found it a hard matter to keep clear of 
 soldiers, with which the wood seemed to be full, 
 moving about singly, stragglers like himself, or in 
 small groups, some without any officer in com- 
 mand, and others in charge of a sergeant or cor- 
 poral as it might happen. 
 
 In coming out of some low underbrush, Henry 
 almost came in contact with one of the latter. It 
 was a considerable sized body of men under charge 
 of a burly red faced sergeant. Henry had barely 
 time to seek a hiding place beneath a projecting 
 rock as the body of infantry passed by. It was well 
 for him he did so, for in the sergeant and group of 
 guards he recognized members of his own company 
 who were escorting a group of gray coated soldiers 
 to the rear. 
 
 Henry finding his hiding place a good retreat, 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. QQ 
 
 concluded to remain where he was until the wood 
 was cleared of the soldiery. All that long after- 
 noon the cannon shook the hills with its incessant 
 roar, while the roll of the musketry came in like an 
 organ accompaniment. 
 
 From his hiding place Henry could see that the 
 lines of gray were being gradually pressed back 
 over the sloping hillside, and ever and again came 
 up the ringing cheer of the boys in blue as they 
 carried some hard contested point. But all these 
 sounds of strife only added to the terror which 
 reigned within him, and he crept further beneath 
 the overhanging rock. All this time, his regiment 
 was led on by its Lieutenant Colonel, for the sil- 
 very haired commander of the regiment had fallen 
 early in the charge made to protect the battery, and 
 now lay upon the sloping hillside utterly oblivious 
 to all the sounds of war. 
 
 Everywhere in the thickest of the fight they 
 rushed, privates as well as officers, covering them- 
 selves with glory and honor. 
 
 During a lull in the conflict, the shattered parts 
 of the command pulled itself together, and then it 
 was first able to realize the loss. Many brave men 
 had gone down in the charge, and as Private Wil- 
 liams was among the missing in his company, it 
 
IOO ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 was supposed he was either dead or had been taken 
 prisoner. 
 
 But how was it going with our boys in the 
 
 neighboring regiment? The gallant Sixty 
 
 Penna., had come in for its full share of the battle. 
 Andrew Bentley had gone wherever his regiment 
 went, not a soldier in his company knew him to 
 falter, always acting with the same calm precision. 
 
 His escape from the rain of bullets seemed mi- 
 raculous, for comrades had fallen upon his right 
 and his left, either dead or badly wounded. It was 
 after the roar of battle had ceased that Andrew met 
 with quite an adventure. In the dusk of the eve- 
 ning, he was looking over that part of the field 
 where his regiment had participated, in hopes that 
 if he found any of his wounded comrades, he could 
 render them some assistance. 
 
 It was in the fulfillment of this labor of love that 
 Andrew came across one of his mess-mates badly 
 wounded. The poor fellow begged for a drink of 
 water; but Andrew having given all the water in 
 his canteen to a rebel officer whom he had found 
 mortally wounded, he was obliged to visit a brook 
 which ran at the foot of the hill in order to replenish 
 his store. So taking the canteen of his wounded 
 comrade, which was also empty, he proceeded to 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. IOI 
 
 refill them. As he was wending his way back up 
 the steep hillside he noticed an overhanging por- 
 tion of rock, underneath which he fancied he saw 
 some portion of a uniform. He continued on his 
 way back to the wounded soldier, and after giving 
 him a draught of water and propping him up 
 against a fallen tree, he placed the soldier's canteen 
 where he could conveniently reach it. He then 
 slung his own drinking vessel across his shoulder, 
 and taking his musket, made his way back to the 
 rock, under which he had seen something that 
 had aroused suspicion. 
 
 Placing his musket against the boulder, he 
 stooped down and peered under it. "Some poor 
 unfortunate who has been wounded and crawled 
 in here to die/' he murmured to himself. "And a 
 Union soldier, too/' as he caught sight of the por- 
 tion of the limb clothed in blue. "Possibly he may 
 not be dead and may need assistance," and with 
 this, Andrew seized hold of that portion exposed 
 and gave a strong pull. But the body did not 
 yield, for the supposed wounded man had taken a 
 firm hold upon a projecting part of the rock, and 
 was doing his best to resist a withdrawal. "Must 
 be wedged in pretty tight," muttered Andrew, so 
 taking a fresh hold and throwing his strength into 
 
1O2 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 the effort, he gave a vigorous tug, when to his sur- 
 prise (the incumbent's hold giving way), out came 
 the body with so much suddenness that Andrew 
 relaxing his hold staggered backward down the 
 hill and ere he was aware he turned a backward 
 somersault over a log that lay in his way. 
 
 He hastily regained his feet to find the sol- 
 dier, whom he had so forcibly extracted, standing 
 with the musket he had lately placed against the 
 rock, in the position of charging bayonets. Their 
 recognition was mutual. 
 
 "What! Henry Williams! as I live!" exclaimed 
 Andrew. 
 
 "Take that!" cried the infuriated Henry, who, 
 goaded to desperation, and seeing his rival un- 
 armed, made a vicious thrust with the bayonet at 
 the breast of the man before him. Andrew made 
 a backward motion and again a second time, per- 
 formed a retrograde movement over the log be- 
 hind him. 
 
 The fall this time no doubt saved his life, for not 
 meeting with any resistance and impelled for- 
 ward by his own movement, the hill at that place 
 being quite steep, Henry plouted forward, going 
 over the same log, falling heavily upon Andrew, 
 while the musket slipping from his hands, went 
 sliding down the steep decline. 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. 1 03 
 
 And now took place a struggle in the wooded 
 slope back of Cemetery Hill no historian has ever 
 yet recorded, in a description of that famous battle. 
 
 It was a struggle for the supremacy. Not with 
 the usual implements of war, but a pitting of mus- 
 cle against muscle. Andrew realizing full well 
 the murderous intent of his adversary, at once 
 grappled with him, and over and over they rolled 
 down the hillside, now Henry having Andrew on 
 his back, and in a few seconds it was vice-versa, 
 for both were powerful men, though if there was 
 any advantage it lay with Andrew ; but Henry was 
 nerved to desperation, for he had learned of the 
 death of the spy, and had heard he had made a dy- 
 ing confession, and he felt that no doubt Andrew 
 was aware of his perfidy. 
 
 The struggle was a short one, but fierce while it 
 lasted. It was a grappling of each other's throats 
 in silence. No flash of powder or noise of explo- 
 sion. And thus they continued until well nigh 
 down the incline, when fortune seemed to favor our 
 hero. A huge oak coming in their way arrested 
 the progress of their continuous revolutions, and 
 Andrew being uppermost took a quick advantage 
 of his contestant by delivering him a telling blow 
 upon the temple, which rendered Henry for the 
 
IO4 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 time " hers du combat? Then Andrew hastily 
 tearing the strap from his canteen, he pinioned his 
 opponent's hands securely behind his back, and 
 awaited his return to consciousness. It was not 
 long before his vanquished opponent opened his 
 eyes and glared up into the face of his rival with a 
 look of intense hatred. 
 
 { "So this is the way you fight the battles for the 
 preservation of our glorious Union?" said Andrew, 
 with some show of feeling. Henry glared sullen- 
 ly at his foe, but made no reply. "Get up, you 
 cowardly dog !" said Andrew, and stooping he laid 
 hold of Henry and assisted him to his feet, with no 
 gentle hand. Then keeping a firm grip upon his 
 man, they slowly ascended the hill. 
 
 Andrew, after securing possession of his mus- 
 ket, marched his captive over to where the officer 
 commanding Henry's regiment had improvised an 
 impromptu headquarters. He saluted him, and 
 relating in brief, how he had found his prisoner, he 
 turned him over to the officer, who promptly order- 
 ed Henry to be placed under arrest, until he had 
 more time to give a consideration of his case. Then 
 inviting Andrew to a seat beside him upon a fallen 
 tree, he Heard his story more in detail, while Hen- 
 ry was marched off to where some Confederate 
 prisoners were kept under a strong guard. 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. 1O$ 
 
 Andrew, after finishing his story, took his leave 
 of the officer, and made his way to the side of the 
 wounded friend from whom he had now been ab- 
 sent for some time. 
 
 He finally reached his friend, only to find that 
 another brave spirit had gone out with the closing 
 hours of the day's conflict. He tenderly composed 
 the limbs of the dead soldier, writing his name, 
 company and regiment upon a card, which he 
 pinned to his blouse, then spreading his blanket 
 over him, with a sad heart proceeded to look up 
 the burial squad. 
 
 As our hero made his way back to his comrades, 
 he could not help drawing a comparison that was 
 far from being a pleasant one. First his thoughts 
 dwelt upon the gallant soul just passed away in the 
 prime of life, before he could learn of the result of 
 the conflict that was now being waged upon the 
 soil of his own native State. Then he thought of 
 that other son of the Keystone State, who had 
 shown such dastardly cowardice at a time when 
 valor was so much needed. 
 
 The battle was resumed the next day along the 
 slopes of Cemetery Ridge, which to this day shows 
 evidence of how they fought and fell. 
 
 In the afternoon at the close of one of the most 
 
IO6 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 gigantic artillery duels history has ever recorded, 
 that famous charge of Pickett's Division was made, 
 led on by the intrepid Longstreet. Other writers 
 have graphically described it. All we know is 
 that onward they marched, while 
 "Cannon in front of them volleyed and thundered ; 
 
 Stormed at with shot and shell." 
 but all without avail. Stannards' Vermont Bri- 
 gade was there in the center to meet them and like 
 the "Green Mountain Boys" of old, they stood their 
 ground. 
 
 Over on their left, Hancock, "The Superb" 
 stood like a lion at bay. While on the right the 
 gallant Hays and Coulter, with a determined front 
 met the enemy's advance. It was here the old 
 
 Sixty regiment in which Andrew Bentley 
 
 and his comrades from N served, performed 
 
 prodigies of valor. 
 
 The conflict ended with the close of day, and 
 Lee with the crushed remnant of a once glorious 
 army made his way back toward the Potomac, 
 leaving behind the flower of the South, for thous- 
 ands had laid down their lives in the vain attempt 
 to take the crest of Cemetery Ridge and the 
 heights of Round Top. 
 
 We cannot refrain at this point from a brief 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. IO? 
 
 reference to the master hand that held the reins of 
 battle on the Union side. 
 
 We refer to the unostentatious Meade, whose 
 powers of generalship were pitted against the 
 most notable general of all the entire Confedera- 
 cy. Only a short time before this memorable bat- 
 tle he had succeeded to that post in which Hooker, 
 Burnside and Pope had failed, and in which Mc- 
 Clelland had achieved but a doubtful and checkered 
 success. His well seasoned advice faithfully car- 
 ried out, won for him the battle. 
 
 True, it cost the life of the gallant Reynolds in 
 the wood back of Seminary Ridge, and that of the 
 heroic Vincent and Weed, on the heights of Round 
 Top, while Hancock defending the onslaught 
 against Cemetery Ridge, received the wound which 
 almost cost him his life, and the brave Sickles left 
 a leg on the battlefield, besides a countless throng 
 of others, just as brave in battle as their superiors. 
 Notwithstanding his admirable support, this was 
 one battle in which the commander-in-chief led his 
 troops in person, and in no other battle of the war 
 was there such a loss of high ranking officers. No 
 less than four being killed outright, and as high as 
 twelve receiving wounds, of those serving on the 
 Union side. 
 
IO8 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Critics have censured Meade for not ordering 
 an immediate pursuit of Lee. He did not deem it 
 best to be too precipitate, as his army was worn 
 and weary. For almost a fortnight they had done 
 nothing else but march and fight, and the soldiers 
 had in the meantime but little opportunity to rest 
 and refresh the inner man. Then again the dead 
 of both armies had to be interred. 
 
 It was during this period following the battle 
 that time was found to investigate the conduct of 
 Henry Williams during the conflict. A court mar- 
 tial was convened, and Henry was brought before 
 it. Andrew related how he found the recreant 
 soldier but said little of his dastardly attempt upon 
 his life. He even refrained from having made pub- 
 lic the affair upon the picket line only a few short 
 months before, and the part Henry played in it. 
 But most of those who comprised the court martial 
 knew of Henry's unsoldierly qualities, his pretended 
 illness in the hospital, and with his present show 
 of cowardice, they concluded the Union army was 
 better without such soldiers. So, after a severe 
 reprimand, he was dismissed from the ranks. A 
 wag of a soldier, who was somewhat of an artist, la- 
 belled a large placard with the words, "Best cure 
 for Roomatix." They pinned it upon his back, 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. 
 
 and to the music of the tune, "When Johnny 
 comes marching home again," the boys all joining 
 in singing the tune, with a change of words, "When 
 Henry comes sneaking home again," Henry Wil- 
 liams was drummed out of camp. 
 
 It was with an increased desire for revenge that 
 Henry returned to his home, and took his place 
 again behind the counter in his father's store. 
 
 He had vainly hoped his rather inglorious con- 
 duct would be kept from reaching the ears of the 
 
 inhabitants of N , but in this he was doomed 
 
 to disappointment, for little by little, it leaked out, 
 and the youth of the village learning of the title he 
 had acquired in the army, addressed him as "Private 
 Roomatix," Walter Bentley being foremost among 
 the number, which so incensed Henry that he re- 
 solved at once that he would show his power over 
 the Bentley's. 
 
 He therefore called upon his attorney with 
 whom he had left the mortgage against the Bent- 
 ley estate, and ordered an immediate foreclosure. 
 
 He chuckled to himself as he pictured the con- 
 sternation that would reign in the home of An- 
 drew's parents, and the chagrin of the impudent 
 Walter. But imagine his surprise when after a 
 few days, he called upon the attorney to see how 
 
HO ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 matters had progressed, to have that gentleman 
 hand him a bag of gold, remarking that he had 
 served the proper notice upon Farmer Bentley, 
 who had called the day following, tendered the 
 gold, which being sufficient to meet the claim, and 
 finding everything correct and properly signed, he 
 had surrendered the papers to the old gentleman. 
 
 Henry's face evinced rage and disappointment, 
 and he thoughtlessly blurted out, "Why in all com- 
 mon sense didn't you force him to a sale?" 
 
 The old lawyer's lips curled with scorn, and he 
 replied with sarcasm, "My dear sir, the best of 
 common sense as you term it, suggested but one 
 thing for me to do. Accept his gold and surren- 
 der the document." 
 
 Henry finding himself thwarted, and seeing no 
 further recourse, quietly pocketed the money, and 
 paying the attorney for his services, made his way 
 back home, all the time in a quandary as to how 
 Farmer Bentley came into possession of so much 
 money. 
 
 He did not know that Andrew's father had so 
 true a friend in the rich Judge Preston, who had 
 furnished the necessary amount, taking his neigh- 
 bor's simple recognizance to hold against its pay- 
 ment. 
 
ON TO GETTYSBURG COWARDICE. Ill 
 
 So again Henry Williams found himself de- 
 feated in his plans. But in due time a strange and 
 unexpected occurrence threw Andrew Bentley in 
 his power, and permitted him for a time to believe 
 that he would be able to at last have a revenge upon 
 his rival. 
 
112 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN SEARCH OF APPLE-JACK. 
 
 T was a short time after the Union army had 
 returned to Virginia, and was recuperating 
 from the effects of the battle of Gettysburg 
 that two of the characters in our story met 
 with an adventure followed by an experience which 
 both remembered for a long time. 
 
 The camp of the Sixty Pennsylania Vol- 
 unteers was in the neighborhood of Warrenton 
 Junction, and for several weeks there had been lit- 
 tle or no activity in that part of the army, and the 
 soldier boys were beginning to long for some new 
 excitement. 
 
 It was near the close of a sultry day in August 
 that Alpheus Forrest sought out his friend Andrew 
 Bentley, whom he found in his tent engaged in let- 
 ter writing, and urged that he accompany him on 
 an expedition down the Warrenton pike. 
 
 Alpheus had in some way learned of an old far- 
 mer living down that way, who had stored in his 
 cellar some rare old apple-jack. "Besides," said the 
 
IN SEARCH OF APPLE JACK. 113 
 
 young soldier, "I learn that the old man has several 
 entertaining daughters, and I'll be blamed if I 
 wouldn't like to rest my eyes on some purty gals 
 once. 'Twould relieve the everlasting monotony 
 of blue coats and brass buttons." 
 
 "Yes," replied Andrew, "But perhaps they 
 don't care much about entertaining Yankee sol- 
 diers? You know some of these Virginia belles are 
 quite bon-ton in their manner and would consider 
 it beneath their dignity to recognize one of Lin- 
 coln's hirelings, as you know they often call us." 
 
 "I am willing to brave the lion in his den, the 
 Douglas in his hall," said Alpheus in a tragic man- 
 ner, recalling a portion of an old school declama- 
 tion. "Then again I have heard that the old F. F. 
 V. has Union proclivities, but of this I am not sure. 
 However, all we want is a taste of his old apple-jack 
 and an opportunity to rest our eyes upon feminine 
 loveliness. You know the 'cat can at least look 
 at the king.' " 
 
 "I think you are growing sarcastic," gravely 
 replied Andrew. "But we need a pass to get out- 
 side our lines." 
 
 "I am willing to brave the lion in his den, the 
 piece of paper signed by the adjutant of the regi- 
 ment, giving permission for Sergeant Forrest and 
 
 8 
 
114 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 one, to pass the guard between the hours of six P. 
 M. and six A. M. 
 
 "All right, comrade, I'll be with you as soon 
 as I finish this letter," and hastily adding a 
 postscript, he signed, sealed and addressed it, 
 placed it in the breast pocket of his blouse intend- 
 ing to mail it in the morning. 
 
 The reader will be better able to judge whether 
 that letter ever reached the fair Annie Preston after 
 the perusal of the following chapters. 
 
 They took no arms with them except an old 
 Derringer pistol, which Andrew had brought from 
 home. This he thrust into his pocket, remarking 
 as he did so that one should not forget to go armed 
 while traveling on hostile ground. 
 
 Alpheus laughed at this, and said he did not an- 
 ticipate meeting any of the enemy as he had heard 
 that their advance pickets were above fifteen miles 
 away. He claimed the farm house they proposed 
 to visit was only about two miles down the road, 
 and they could not possibly miss the place. 
 
 They soon passed the Union picket lines and 
 reaching the highway, shaped their steps in the di- 
 rection of the farm house, where they expected to 
 find apple-jack and Southern loveliness. 
 
 Our young friends both being lovers of music, 
 
IN SEARCH OF APPLE-JACK. 11$ 
 
 were hoping that they might find the ladies of the 
 house, which they proposed visiting, possessing the 
 same taste, and thus be able to pass a very pleasant 
 evening. 
 
 It was not quite eight o'clock when our friends 
 knocked at the door of the farm house. They fan- 
 cied they heard laughter and music as they ap- 
 proached, but when they ascended the steps that 
 led up to the wide veranda and knocked at the door 
 all noise had ceased. 
 
 They were almost sure they detected the sound 
 of hurried feet and the closing of a door, then all 
 was silent. Our young friends stood quietly wait- 
 ing, and ere long the sound of footsteps came shuf- 
 fling up to the door, which was flung wide open, 
 and a man whom they presumed to be the owner 
 of the place stood before them. He was a man 
 evidently of three score years or more, whose hair 
 and beard had evidently at one time been of the hue 
 of the raven, but was now of a silvery sheen. His 
 hair fell in profusion upon his shoulders, while his 
 beard would have been an ornament to his face had 
 it not been disfigured by a dirty yellowish streak 
 reaching from his lips the entire length, the result 
 of a continuous deposit of tobacco juice. The 
 -eyes of the aged patriarch before them had a foxy 
 
Il6 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 expression, and never rested long on any one ob- 
 ject. He was attired in an old smoking jacket, 
 much the worse for wear, while his feet were en- 
 cased in a pair of badly run down slippers. It was 
 evident that like many of the would-be aristocracy 
 of the "Old Dominion" an alarming degeneracy 
 existed. His voice had apparently a ring of wel- 
 come in it as he saluted them. 
 
 "Howdy boys? Howdy ! Be you out on a lark?" 
 
 Our two soldier boys bowed politely, and An- 
 drew acting as spokesman replied, "My dear sir, 
 we are out on a little pleasure jaunt, and hearing 
 that you had some good cheer in your house, we 
 thought we would make you a short call." 
 
 "That's right, boys, jist step in and make yer- 
 sels to hum, my house is always open to the 
 Yanks," and as he said this he led the way and ush- 
 ered them into a large dimly lighted parlor. 
 
 As our friends entered they were both pleased 
 to notice that in one corner stood an old fashioned 
 piano, open as though it had been lately used. The 
 sight of this instrument caused a thrill of delight to 
 come into the heart of each of the soldier boy visi- 
 tors, for the old square piano recalled visions of 
 home, and it had been many months since they 
 
IN SEARCH OF APPLE-JACK. 1 1/ 
 
 had been permitted to listen to the sweet tones of 
 an instrument of this kind. 
 
 Their host bid them be seated, saying he would 
 go and hunt up the gals, and with this he left them. 
 
 Alpheus could not refrain from going to the 
 instrument and seating himself upon the stool ran 
 his fingers back and forth over the keys, at last 
 dropping into the air of "Swanee River" which he . 
 played soft and low, showing a remarkably delicate 
 touch of finger as he manipulated the keys. 
 
 While Alpheus was thus engaged, Andrew was 
 taking a quiet survey of the surroundings. He had 
 somehow or other a feeling that the room had 
 been occupied by some one prior to their coming, 
 but why seemingly so deserted now, he could not 
 understand. 
 
 He noticed that the chairs were in such a posi- 
 tion as to indicate that they had recently been oc- 
 cupied. He arose from his seat and walked over 
 to where Alpheus was playing, and commenced to 
 leaf over the music that was lying loose upon the 
 instrument. 
 
 While he was thus engaged, he felt almost sure 
 he saw the shadow of a man passing the window, 
 that looked out upon the veranda, but then he 
 thought it might likely enough be the farmer, and 
 
1 1 8 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 so for the moment gave it no further thought. But 
 a few moments later, he was positive that he heard 
 the sounds of galloping hoofs fast receding in the 
 distance. 
 
 Alpheus had heard and seen nothing to arouse 
 his suspicions. He had only eyes and ears for the 
 music before him. Being an enthusiastic lover of 
 the sublime art, and no mean performer himself, he 
 was lost to his surroundings as he deftly touched 
 the keys bringing out the sweet harmony of sound. 
 He finally drifted into a sweet melody never too old 
 to bear a repetition, that of "Home Sweet Home" 
 and into the heart of each, came at that moment an 
 intense longing for the dear old home so far away. 
 
 The music was brought to a sudden termination 
 by the entrance of the host, accompanied by three 
 young ladies, and at once, without ceremony or 
 any attempt at etiquette, he blurted out, "Gals, 
 here's a couple of Yanks come to give us a call. 
 Boys, durn me if I know yer names, but 'taint no 
 matter; these two girls," pointing to the tallest of 
 the trio, "are my daughters, while this little lass" 
 laying his hand upon the head of the smallest and 
 apparently youngest of the three, "is my niece from 
 old Kaintuck, and a right smart sort of a Secesh'r 
 she be tew, so boys look'ee out, 'er she'll spike yer 
 
IN SEARCH OF APPLEJACK. 
 
 guns," and as he said this, he gave a significant 
 wink to his two daughters, which did not escape the 
 sharp eyes of Andrew. 
 
 The ladies made a graceful courtesy, while our 
 two friends bowed low to the ladies, Andrew quiet- 
 ly remarking that it was a rare pleasure to meet 
 with those of the gentler sex amid so much war and 
 blood shed. 
 
 The taller of the two sisters replied that in these 
 days of confusion and strife it was very pleasant to 
 spend an evening with callers without an interrup- 
 tion, and again Andrew noticed a significant look 
 pass betwixt father and daughter. 
 
 The two young ladies whom the host classed 
 as his daughters, bore a strong resemblance to their 
 father. While not considered handsome, they 
 were both comely girls ; not richly attired, for fine 
 dresses at that stage of the war were not to be 
 thought of by the average Southern belle, but they 
 were neatly attired, and withal, attractive j-oung 
 ladies. 
 
 The one designated as "My niece from Kain- 
 tuck," evinced that she came from the State re- 
 nowned for fair women. We will not go into a 
 description of her beauty, but simply say she was 
 a young lady worthy the admiration of any man t 
 
I2O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 At least this was the opinion of our young friend 
 Alpheus, who had not yet surrendered to the 
 charms of any one of the opposite sex. Although 
 he was not sure of being able to withstand a long 
 siege from the beauty of the sparkling eyes which 
 the young lady possessed. 
 
 "Ya-as, we've seen purty stirrin' times," broke 
 in the old gentleman at the close of the remark 
 made by the daughter to Andrew's compliment. 
 "" Tears we people here in old Virginny hev 
 more'n our share of fitin' and radin' of armies, than 
 ennywhere else fur's I kin see," and he drew from 
 his pocket a long twist of black chewing tobacco 
 and opening a pocket knife cut off an enormous 
 large bite, which he deliberately placed in his 
 mouth and began to chew vigorously. "Hev a 
 chew?" and he proffered the weed to his two call- 
 ers. Neither Andrew nor Alpheus being addicted 
 to the habit of chewing politely declined. "Wall, 
 so much left fur me to nibble at, I am not a heavy 
 hand at the bizness, only chew enough ter allow me 
 to spit clear," and with this he drew forth an old 
 spittoon from a hidden place in the corner, and de- 
 posited therein a goodly quantity of saliva strong- 
 ly impregnated with tobacco juice, and wiping his 
 beard, resumed his seat, while Andrew glanced 
 
IN SEARCH OF APPLE-JACK. 121 
 
 over at Alpheus, with a look upon his face as much 
 as to say : "How about being able to spit clear?" 
 
 "Have you had many soldiers about here?" in- 
 quired Andrew, for he wished to hear what the old 
 man would say on the subject. 
 
 "Ya-as, consid'able; one day 'tis the Confeds, 
 and next day 'tis the Yanks, and 'twixt 'em it keeps 
 a man busy to hev a roof over his head." 
 
 "I trust the Union soldiers have always re- 
 spected the rights of your home," said Andrew. 
 
 "Ya-as, purty much so, but I tell yer ther's sum 
 white livered sojers in the Union army as well as 
 the Confedr't army that don't respect yer rights 
 enny more'n nuthin. Now there were some fellers 
 here in the spring, and one of 'em fine enough 
 lookin' to be the gentleman he wa'nt thought he'd 
 play smart on me an' turned on all the spigots in 
 my barrels of apple-jack, jist a little, yer see, so I 
 wouldn't notice 'fore he left, and I swan ter grash- 
 us, if I hadn't went down in that cellar purty soon 
 arter he and his crowd left, my hull cellar 'twould 
 hev been swimmin' in apple-jack. Now I count that 
 a mighty mean piece of work, tryin' to spile what 
 yer can't drink yersel'. If he comes back here, I'll 
 jist sit ole Tige' on him, and let him give the mean 
 coot a shakin' up. Guess he must aller s been a 
 
122 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 mean sort of 'er-a-cuss, fer he'd a mark upon his 
 forehead, that showed somebody at one time tried 
 tu git even with him." 
 
 "I hope he did not belong to our regiment," 
 said Andrew. 
 
 "I dunno as he did. He had a figger wun, and 
 an o, and a figger five on his cap." 
 
 "Was he of stout build, with hair inclined to 
 curl?" said Andrew. 
 
 "Ya-as, jist such a feller as that, had jet black 
 eyes." 
 
 Andrew looked at his comrade and uttered the 
 single word, "Williams." Alpheus nodded. They 
 both had recognized in the object of their host's 
 derision, one of their fellow townsmen once serving 
 in the One Hundred and Pennsylvania. 
 
 "Wall, boys, try an' n'joy yersels," and he arose 
 to leave the room. Pausing in the door way, he 
 remarked, "Reckon there won't likely be any more 
 of you-uns down this way to-night?" 
 
 "Why, I hardly think so, although men are get- 
 ting permission every evening to leave camp, but 
 why do you ask?" said Andrew. 
 
 "Oh- Why !-'er swan ter grashus if I kin jist tell, 
 guess I must be gettin' inquisertive. Good-night, 
 boys, try an' 'njoy yersels," and he was about to 
 
IN SEARCH OF APPLE-JACK. 12$ 
 
 take his departure when Alpheus who had hitherto 
 remained silent, just then thinking of the prime ob- 
 ject of their visit, sprang from his seat towards the 
 old gentleman and whispered a few words in his ear. 
 
 "Gosh hang it, ya'as, sutinly, give us yer can- 
 teen and I'll fill it fer yer, and ye'll find it hangin' 
 out here by the door when ye git ready to go." And 
 he took Alpheus' canteen and departed. 
 
 That was the last time Alpheus was permitted 
 to look upon his old canteen, from which he had 
 taken many a refreshing drink, and ofttimes in the 
 days that followed, did he long for a draught from 
 it, but we must not anticipate. 
 
124 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TRAPPED. 
 
 ANNOT one of you gentlemen play for 
 us?" Now spoke up the second daugh- 
 ter, who heretofore had not attempted 
 to enter into the conversation. 
 "Oh, yes, do !" added her companion, the one 
 whom the host had introduced as his niece. "I 
 am sure I heard some very sweet music before we 
 came in. Play for me, 'My Old Kentucky Home' 
 please?" and she cast upon Alpheus a most be- 
 witching look. 
 
 The poor fellow felt a quickening of the flow 
 of blood to his heart and he blushed unconsciously. 
 Alpheus felt, that (to use the expression of the 
 old gentleman) his "guns were already spiked," and 
 just then he would have done anything in his pow- 
 er to please her. So ravishing may be the glance 
 from the eyes of a lovely woman. 
 
 He at once complied and going to the piano, 
 seated himself and struck up that melody ever dear 
 to one of the "Blue grass State." The young lady 
 
TRAPPED. 125 
 
 for whom the melody was being played, now arose 
 and stood by the side of Alpheus, who, feeling the 
 magnetism of her presence, and with the desire to 
 please, threw his whole heart into the execution of 
 the music before him, which soon caused the other 
 two ladies who had entered into a conversation 
 with Andrew, to pause and listen to the sweet 
 strains Alpheus was eliciting from the keys of the 
 old piano. The spirit of the girl from "Old Kain- 
 tuck" was aroused and soon she besought Andrew 
 and her companions to join her in singing a few 
 stanzas of the old song, which they accordingly did, 
 and soon the farm house resounded with the har- 
 mony of their voices. Andrew possessed a good 
 tenor voice, while Alpheus had always been consid- 
 ered quite a hand at singing bass, and soon the 
 young ladies perceived that their callers were pos- 
 sessed of more than ordinary ability. 
 
 The song was no sooner finshed, than the elder 
 of the two daughters claimed that now they must 
 sing "My Old Virginia Low-lands," which was 
 granted, and at its close Andrew remarked that as 
 he couldn't recall any particular song adapted to 
 his native State, he would suggest the singing of 
 "The Star Spangled Banner." 
 
 At once the ladies protested against singing 
 that, as being too old and stale. 
 
1 26 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Our hero felt his cheeks burn for a moment, 
 with the sudden rush of blood, but suppressing his 
 feeling he said, "Well, how will Dixie suit you?" 
 
 This met with a ready response by all three and 
 soon they were declaring in the spirit of song "That 
 in Dixie's land I'll take my stand," etc. 
 
 Andrew now felt fully convinced that they were 
 in the home of one whose sympathies lay with the 
 South; but he felt that the evening was passing 
 pleasantly, still he would keep his eyes open for 
 any unexpected event, which came soon enough, 
 for as they were in the midst of "Maryland my 
 Maryland," a clatter was heard out in the yard, and 
 Andrew going to the window peered forth and be- 
 held a small body of troopers, several already dis- 
 mounted. 
 
 The rising moon was emitting only an uncer- 
 tain light, and Andrew could not clearly make out 
 whether the group outside was Union or Confed- 
 erate. But his doubts were soon set aside by 
 heavy steps being heard upon the veranda and the 
 door quickly thrown open ; when in stalked an offi- 
 cer and four men clad in the gray uniform of the 
 Southern Confederacy. 
 
 As Andrew looked at his friend, who sat in 
 speechless amazement at the piano, his fingers hav- 
 
TRAPPED. 127 
 
 ing lost all their cunning, he ejaculated one word, 
 "trapped," but Alpheus could find no voice to re- 
 ply. 
 
 "Pardon me, ladies/* said the officer, bowing, "I 
 hesitate to interrupt so much enjoyment, but you 
 know interruptions are in order at the present." 
 As he said this he smiled significantly upon the el- 
 der of the farmer's two daughters, and our hero 
 looking in the direction of the lady mentioned, no- 
 ticed a little nod of assent. Then turning to our 
 two discomfited soldiers, the dapper little lieuten- 
 ant said in an authoritative tone, 
 
 "Gentlemen, consider yourselves prisoners! 
 Please hand over your arms !" 
 
 There was a perceptible smile upon the faces of 
 the ladies, as Andrew demurely handed over to the 
 officer his old Derringer pistol which the lieuten- 
 ant placed in his belt, while Alpheus held out to 
 him his pocket knife, declaring it was all he was pos- 
 sessed of in the way of a weapon. This the officer 
 politely declined, saying he might need it "to cut 
 his terbacker." 
 
 At this juncture, the ladies arose and swept 
 gracefully out of the room. The lassie from "Old 
 Kaintuck" paused and, darting a roguish glance 
 at our two friends, said with mock gravity, "I hope, 
 
128 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 gentlemen, as we sung this evening, that you may 
 take your stand in Dixie's land for many days to 
 come." 
 
 Then with a bow to the rebel lieutenant, she 
 took her leave. A few minutes later a laugh came 
 ringing out from somewhere up stairs, as the young 
 ladies recalled the capture of their guests, which 
 fell with a discord upon the ear of Alpheus whose 
 dream of bliss had been so rudely interrupted. 
 
 Andrew and his companion were hurried out- 
 side, where stood waiting a small detachment of 
 cavalry, which proved to belong to that famous 
 organization known as "Stuart's Raiders." A 
 couple of sleepy mules, belonging to the farmer, 
 were pressed into service, and our two friends thus 
 mounted, with the bridle rein of each being se- 
 curely fastened to a ring in the saddle of two of the 
 troopers, the cavalcade set forth in the direction of 
 Culpepper, at which place they arrived as the first 
 faint streaks of light became visible in the Eastern 
 horizon indicative of the coming dawn. 
 
 Andrew learned from one of their captors, as 
 they rode along, that this was only a small detach- 
 ment sent out upon a reconnoisance ; that they had 
 bivouaced for the night a few miles away from the 
 farm house they had just left, but their command- 
 
TRAPPED. 129 
 
 ing officer (the lieutenant who rode at the head) 
 having paid a visit to one of the young ladies that 
 evening, was surprised by the coming of two Yan- 
 kee soldiers and slipping away unperceived, had re- 
 gained his command and their capture soon fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 Everything was now clear to Andrew. The 
 sound of voices as they approached the house ; the 
 hurrying of feet as though some one was hastily 
 leaving; then the condition in which he found the 
 room; the shadow passing the window, and the 
 sound of galloping hoofs, and later the significant 
 remark of the young lady about the pleasure of un- 
 interrupted enjoyment, and the various glances 
 and winks, all having a meaning, and he felt like 
 kicking himself for being so stupid. At his first 
 opportunity he related to Alpheus all that had 
 aroused his suspicions and further what the cavalry 
 trooper told him of how they had learned of their 
 presence at the farm house. But the poor boy 
 seemed utterly in despair, and strongly censured 
 himself when he recalled that it was at his sugges- 
 tion the visit to the farm house was made and, just 
 then, his mind resting upon the object of their call 
 upon the old farmer he broke out afresh: "Con- 
 found it all, Andy, we've got ourselves jugged and 
 in the end missed that blamed apple-jack." 
 
 9 
 
I3O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 "No doubt the honest old 'Union man* will 
 keep it safe until we return from Dixie/' remarked 
 Andrew dryly. 
 
 "Union man be hanged/' ejaculated Alpheus. 
 "I'll bet anything he's a rank old Secesh at heart, 
 and was tickled to think of our being gobbled up." 
 And as he spoke his voice was full of bitterness. 
 "Wonder why he didn't put in an appearance when 
 the troopers arrived?" 
 
 "That wouldn't have been policy, comrade," 
 replied Andrew. "He knows the changes that war 
 brings are many and various, and that possibly 
 sometime we might pay him another visit, for yon 
 know you would not object to another look into the 
 bright eyes of 'my niece from Old Kaintuck/ " 
 and he repeated the last few words with the inimit- 
 able drawl of the old F. F. V. "And sure enough, 
 too, you will want to get that canteen of apple- 
 jack." 
 
 "Yes," replied Alpheus, "and if we ever do, I'm 
 afraid there'll be more than spigots turned in his 
 old apple-jack barrels. There'll be some heads 
 quickly knocked in." 
 
 "I rather guess we had better first lay our plans 
 to give our escort the good-bye," said Andrew 
 gravely. "I'm sure I have no great desire to 
 
TRAPPED. 1 3 1 
 
 spend any more time than I can help in their 
 vaunted Dixie Land." 
 
 They were now approaching a considerable 
 sized camp of mounted men, which turned out to be 
 the main body under command of that noted Con-- 
 federate cavalry leader, General J. E. B. Stuart, 
 and for the first time were favored with a sight of 
 this "Cavalier of the South." They had on battle 
 fields of the past learned of his fighting qualities, 
 and now felt all the more anxious to look upon this 
 great cavalry chieftain. 
 
 He appeared to be a young man, strongly built, 
 of medium height, with blue eyes and a reddish 
 beard. He wore a blouse and foraging cap with 
 a linen cover called "Havelock" as a protection 
 against the sun. 
 
 His personal appearance indicated the distin- 
 guishable traits of his character, dash, great 
 strength of will and indomitable energy. 
 
 Everything about the camp gave evidence of 
 strict military discipline maintained by this Con- 
 federate officer, no doubt adduced from his exper- 
 ience in the United States Army before the out- 
 break of the war. He moved about among his 
 men and officers with a stateliness of bearing equal 
 to a "Knight of the Realm." 
 
132 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Our two friends were placed with some other 
 unfortunates wearing the Union blue, and who had 
 been picked up by the different scouting parties. 
 The group with the addition of Andrew and Al- 
 pheus now numbered a score, and arrangements 
 were being made to convey them farther South. 
 
 While in the camp of Stuart's men, the prison- 
 ers were treated with courtesy, sharing a part of 
 their rations. But the vigilance of their guards 
 never abated, and no opportunity was offered for 
 any to make an escape. 
 
 Their stay with these dashing troopers proved 
 of short duration, for the day following the arrival 
 of our two friends in the Confederate camp, the 
 entire lot of blue coats were placed under a strong 
 guard and marched down the railroad track until 
 they reached what was known then as Orange 
 County Court House. Here they were loaded into 
 a box car and attached to a passing train were con- 
 veyed by rail to Lynchburg. 
 
 Arriving there by nightfall, they were ordered 
 out of the car by the guard, who placing them in 
 line, marched the little band up the steep hill lead- 
 ing to the town, and halted in front of a dingy brick 
 structure with heavy iron gratings across the win- 
 dows. This was the public jail of Campbell County 
 
TRAPPED. 133 
 
 and here our soldier boys were to spend the night. 
 
 A great crowd of gaping men, boys and women 
 had gathered about the entrance to the jail to get 
 a look at "the poor white Linkun trash," as they 
 designated the little band of prisoners. 
 
 There were many dusky faces in the crowd and 
 in this part of the on-lookers, (especially those of 
 years) there seemed to rest a look of sadness and 
 sympathy, for many of them realized that these 
 men had left the comforts of home for the battle- 
 field in order that human servitude might forever 
 be abolished. 
 
 The prisoners were carefully counted as they 
 marched in single file, the entire lot occupying the 
 open corridor of the jail, while at the entrance and 
 also at each barred window a sentry with a loaded 
 musket was stationed. 
 
 It was here that the guard who accompanied 
 them took their leave, and their present guardians 
 were conscript members of a Georgia regiment, a 
 detachment of which had been stationed there to 
 guard some commissary stores. 
 
134 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE ESCAPE. 
 
 HE little band of unfortunates had been 
 sadly neglected on the journey, not hav- 
 ing partaken of any food since their start 
 in the morning, and then it was only a 
 few hard tack and a cup of coffee, which their 
 guards had captured from Union supplies in their 
 various raids. Therefore it is needless to say that 
 everybody was hungry, and the meager piece of 
 cold corn bread, with a small cup of some question- 
 able soup, was only sufficient to allay the pangs of 
 hunger for a very brief space of time. 
 
 Soon they felt as if nothing had been served 
 them and ere long the spirit of barter, always pre- 
 dominant in the average soldier, manifested itself. 
 Little groups of blue coats were to be seen gathered 
 at the door and windows, dickering with the guard 
 for something additional to eat. 
 
 Andrew had in his possession a German silver 
 match safe, with a few matches in it, and this was 
 
THE ESCAPE. 135 
 
 looked upon with envious eyes by one of the guard. 
 So after a little talk upon the merits of the article in 
 question, it found a resting place in the pocket of 
 the guard, while Andrew received in return a half 
 dozen hard biscuit, a small piece of greasy pork and 
 ten dollars in Confederate money. He readily dis- 
 posed of the biscuit, eating all but two, which he re- 
 served for morning. 
 
 But how to manage the greasy piece of fat pork 
 was a quandary. He tried to secure a piece of 
 paper to wrap around it but none of his companions 
 were able to accommodate him. Searching his 
 pockets in the vain hope of being able to find some- 
 thing with which to envelope the pork, Andrew 
 drew forth his letter to Annie Preston, which he 
 had placed in his pocket before starting on that ill- 
 timed visit to the farm house, thinking he would 
 mail it the next morning, but now several morn- 
 ings had passed and the letter had not been mailed 
 and what was worse, the prospects of mailing it 
 were very remote. 
 
 Andrew looked at the missive a few moments, 
 then with a sigh he drew it from its covering and de- 
 liberately wrapped it around his piece of pork. 
 Then tearing the lining from his soldier cap, he 
 folded it around the package and placed it carefully 
 
1 36 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 down in the pocket of his blouse, intending at the 
 first opportunity to prepare it for eating. He felt 
 that the changes in a soldier's life were many. 
 Little did he think when writing the letter to his 
 sweetheart, that this would be the disposition of it. 
 
 His comrade Alpheus was the happy possessor 
 of a pair of gold washed sleeve buttons, that 
 brought him in exchange a dozen of cold roast 
 potatoes, a small piece of corn bread, and about 
 two spoonfuls of black molasses called "Sorgum." 
 
 With these Alpheus satisfied the cravings of 
 hunger, saving half of his potatoes for another 
 meal. Then declaring that if he had only a drink of 
 "Uncle Sam's" black coffee he would feel all right. 
 
 "How about a drink of the old farmer's apple- 
 jack?" said Andrew, looking at his young compan- 
 ion with an amused smile upon his face. 
 
 "Oh, go way! Don't tantalize a poor fellow," 
 said Alpheus. "I just want one more opportunity 
 to lay my eyes upon the villianous old proprietor of 
 that apple-jack." 
 
 "Well, what then?" said Andrew. 
 
 "Why, I'd make him feel mean enough to crawl 
 into the bung hole of one of his barrels," and Al- 
 pheus tried his best to look fierce and savage. 
 
 Our two friends sat together a long time con- 
 
THE ESCAPE. 137 
 
 versing in a low tone. Their principal theme was 
 how to effect an escape, for both had heard ru- 
 mors of the horrid prison pens of the South. It 
 was decided that they would stick closely together 
 and embrace the first opportunity for both to get 
 away, and that one should not go without the other. 
 
 Alpheus could not refrain from again accusing 
 himself for bringing this trouble upon his friend. 
 But Andrew sought to cheer his comrade saying 
 that it was only the chances that every soldier must 
 take. 
 
 They found the hard stone floor of the jail the 
 only couch offered them, but they were soldiers, 
 and this did not give them much concern. Being 
 weary from their long ride, they stretched them- 
 selves out side by side, and ere long were far enough 
 away from prison walls, in the pleasant dreams 
 that come to those in the enjoyment of good health. 
 Morning found them refreshed from their slumber 
 and ready for breakfast which came at an early 
 hour, consisting of a small tin of some substitute 
 for coffee, and a piece of corn bread such as they 
 had the night before, and a small scrap of cooked 
 bacon. 
 
 Our two friends placed their allowance to- 
 gether, Andrew sharing his remaining biscuits with 
 
138 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Alpheus, and receiving in return the half of his 
 comrade's potatoes saved from the previous eve- 
 ning. Their table was the floor of the prison, and 
 placing their food down before them, ate as only 
 hungry men can, and soon everything eatable had 
 disappeared from sight. 
 
 At an early hour in the forenoon, an officer 
 came to the jail and issued an order for the prison- 
 ers to be brought forth. Accordingly they were 
 at once assembled in the public thoroughfare in 
 front of the jail building surrounded by their guard, 
 and thus they stood patiently waiting in the hot 
 sun till long past the noon-time hour.. Then their 
 guards were changed and they were marched back 
 to the railroad and embarked in an old dingy look- 
 ing passenger car that was attached to the rear end 
 of a long, heavily laden freight train, which, after 
 some little delay on account of the engine not hav- 
 ing enough steam, they started on their journey 
 farther South, making a fair rate of speed but los- 
 ing much time by occasional stops to repair some 
 portion of the machinery of the engine that had 
 given out, and to discharge a part of their freight 
 at way-stations along the road. 
 
 A small portion of the guard occupied places 
 on various parts of the train, but the greater num- 
 ber occupied the coach with their prisoners. 
 
THE ESCAPE. 139 
 
 The doors of the coach were locked and the 
 guards vigilant, so that little chance for escape pre- 
 sented itself. 
 
 But still our friends kept a close watch intend- 
 ing to be ready if opportunity should offer for 
 them to leave the train, although they could not 
 help feeling depressed as they realized that every 
 revolution of the iron wheels carried them nearer 
 some prison pen. 
 
 The other prisoners maintained a sullen silence. 
 In fact, during the entire journey, there had been 
 little intercourse or exchange of conversation. No 
 doubt many like our two friends were deeply cha- 
 grined at the misfortune that had befallen them. 
 The rebel guards were typical Georgians, lean, 
 lank and hollow eyed, with sallow skin and un- 
 kempt hair. Their general appearance indicated 
 that they were not surfeited with their allowance 
 of rations. 
 
 We do not say that there were no exceptions to 
 this class, for we know Georgia sent some fine 
 looking men into the army, but the major part of 
 those who were conscripted were largely as we 
 have described. They proved, however, effective 
 as guards, and in this capacity filled the place of 
 abler men. 
 
I4O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Evidently what these men lacked in rations, 
 they made up in the use of tobacco, for there 
 seemed to be a perpetual motion of their jaws, only 
 pausing while they rolled the quid around in their 
 mouth preparatory to taking a new start, while 
 they constantly expectorated their filthy saliva 
 anywhere and everywhere, not infrequently squirt- 
 ing it down the neck of some poor unfortunate pris- 
 oner, which act never failed to elicit a laugh from 
 those of the guard who witnessed it, while the ob- 
 ject of their insult was obliged to quietly suppress 
 his indignation. 
 
 These doughty warriors wore a mixed uniform 
 of butternut and gray, much the worse for wear, 
 and in painful contrast with the bright, clean blue 
 of their prisoners, many of them having uniforms 
 still new and clean. 
 
 The arms carried by the guards were mostly 
 muskets of the old Springfield pattern. 
 
 The afternoon was slowly wearing away, and 
 the stomachs of the little party of prisoners were 
 beginning to clamor for some kind of food; For 
 the morning meal had been eaten early, and at the 
 time was not very substantial, and so limited in 
 quantity that it was impossible to reserve a portion 
 for any other meal. 
 
THE ESCAPE. 14! 
 
 The guards without any apparent regard for 
 the feeling of their prisoners, brought forth from 
 their haversacks some pieces of corn bread called 
 "pone," and proceeded to munch it, washing it 
 down with the draughts of water which they pro- 
 cured from a tank in one end of the car. 
 
 This supply soon being exhausted, the unfortu- 
 nates under their care were thus deprived of even 
 quenching their thirst, but what did these heartless 
 guards care; anything was good enough for a 
 Yank. 
 
 Hunger makes the majority of men restless and 
 irritable, and this feeling soon became manifest in 
 the car among the Union men. They would fre- 
 quently change their seats and make visits to the 
 empty water tank, look in and finding it empty, 
 come away with a sullen discontented look upon 
 their faces. They would repeat their visit in a 
 short time, apparently forgetful of the known fact 
 that the tank was empty. 
 
 This restlessness alarmed the guard, and sev- 
 eral more of their conpanions were brought into 
 the car and stationed at the door. They evi- 
 dently anticipated an outbreak, but what could a 
 few helpless prisoners do against almost an equal 
 number of guards with loaded muskets in their 
 hands. 
 
142 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 But it was evident that a crisis was approach- 
 ing for the restlessness of the men increased, as 
 the pangs of hunger became more poignant. 
 
 The light of day was fading out and the shades 
 of night beginning to fall. The car was poorly 
 equipped with light, having but two dingy lamps, 
 one in front and rear, emitting only a sickly yellow 
 flame barely sufficient to enable the guards to 
 make out their prisoners ; and to add to the unsatis- 
 factory illumination, the atmosphere in the coach 
 was made more hazy by several of the prisoners 
 who, having found a few crumbs of tobacco in their 
 pockets, had drawn forth their old pipes, filled them 
 and, after borrowing all the matches they possibly 
 could from the guard, they soon set their pipes 
 a-going, causing Alpheus(who didn't indulge in the 
 use of the weed in any way) to remark that if his old 
 knife was only sharp enough he would readily cut 
 his share of the tobacco smoke out, and ask permis- 
 sion of the guard to toss it out of the window. 
 
 The air within the car was growing thick and 
 hot, for the afternoon had been quite warm, and 
 the guard would allow no window to be raised for 
 fear of an attempt to escape on the part of some 
 prisoner. Thus another comfort was cruelly de- 
 nied the suffering men. 
 
THE ESCAPE. 143 
 
 Finally the officer in charge of the guard de- 
 clared he could stand it no longer, and ordered the 
 men to cease smoking. He also stated that each 
 man must keep his seat, and emphasized his com- 
 mand with an oath, declaring he would bayonet the 
 first man who dared to disobey his orders. The 
 men in blue knew quite well that the officer would 
 gladly avail himself of an opportunity to put his 
 threat into effect, if for no other purpose than to 
 boast of having bayoneted a hated Yankee. 
 
 Yet there were men in that car who, without 
 any means of defense, except those supplied by na- 
 ture, were ready to defy this boasting braggart. 
 
 The train stopped long enough at Danville to 
 discharge some freight, and take on a fresh supply 
 of coal and water, and then under a higher pressure 
 of steam and possibly a lighter load, went daslimg 
 off in the darkness in the direction of Salisbury, 
 North Carolina, as this was the place to which the 
 prisoners were destined, Andrew having overheard 
 the conductor shouting to the station agent at 
 Danville, that they had a car of miserable Yankee 
 soldiers they meant to dump off at that place. 
 
 Our hero, having some knowledge of the coun- 
 try, knew the distance from Danville to Salisbury 
 was not great, and the train under the increased 
 
144 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 rate of speed it was now making, would not be 
 many hours in making the run between the two 
 places. 
 
 He felt that once within a rebel stockade, their 
 chances of escape would materially lessen, and that 
 if they meant to do anything toward making an es- 
 cape they would have to act quickly. He again 
 conferred with Alpheus, who occupied the seat with 
 him. But cudgel their brains all they could, no 
 avenue of possible escape seemed to present itself, 
 for at least four men stood at each door of the car, 
 while others were interspersed along in the aisle. 
 
 True, an exit through the window might be at- 
 tempted, but the result would likely prove disas- 
 trous in the presence of so vigilant a guard. 
 
 But ofttimes in our lives when we are in an ex- 
 tremity, and sheer desperation stares us in the face, 
 the unlooked for happens. This was the case with 
 our two despairing friends. 
 
 An event occurred which offered to the weary, 
 hungry prisoners an opportunity to escape. 
 
 The train was of considerable length, and the 
 car containing the guards with their prisoners, be- 
 ing attached to the extreme rear end, while run- 
 ning at a high rate of speed, and the road full of 
 
THE ESCAPE. 145 
 
 curves, naturally swung heavily from side to side, 
 at times almost leaving the rails. 
 
 It was while rounding one of these sharp curves 
 in the darkness that a loud report was heard, and 
 the car swerved from side to side like a drunken 
 man, then toppled over and went crashing down an 
 embankment, soon lay bottom upward amid the 
 reeds and marshes of a stretch of swampy land that 
 at that place, closely bordered the railroad, while 
 the train, thundering on, was soon lost to sight and 
 sound. 
 
 "The unlocked for" was the breaking of a coup- 
 ling; not the modern connections much in vogue 
 in the present day, but the old style link and pin. 
 
 The noise of the departing train was followed 
 by cries, groans and curses, with an occasional 
 sound of breaking glass, all coming from the im- 
 prisoned occupants of the up-turned car. 
 
 Very few in the car were at first able to grasp 
 the situation or understand what had happened. 
 Few, if any, had escaped without some injury, and 
 some were badly hurt, judging from the groans 
 that were heard in the darkness. They were all 
 enveloped in "Cimmerian" gloom, the lamps hav- 
 ing been extinguished. 
 
 Andrew had been sitting with his arm thrown 
 
 10 
 
146 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 across the shoulders of his young comrade convers- 
 ing with him when the accident happened, and 
 very naturally as the position of the car changed 
 he convulsively gripped the shoulders of Alpheus, 
 who immediately threw up his arms grasping a firm 
 hold of Andrew, and thus in a close embrace they 
 found themselves, when after a moment's daze, 
 they regained consciousness. 
 
 Andrew was quick to realize their situation, 
 and his first thought was of freedom. They knew 
 not what injuries they had received, and at first 
 each could not tell the condition of the other. They 
 could distinguish above the cries and groans, the 
 curses of some of the guard as they vainly at- 
 tempted to find a light. It is here we have an ex- 
 ample of the effect of small things. The fact that 
 those indulging in their pipes had about exhausted 
 the little stock of matches possessed by the guards, 
 and this to a large extent prevented them from 
 readily obtaining a light, and thus make an at- 
 tempt to escape more difficult. 
 
 Every now and again the crash of broken glass 
 evinced that some one was struggling to make an 
 exit from the car. Andrew realized that they must 
 now act, and act quickly. 
 
 So he set about to examine himself and see 
 
THE ESCAPE. 147 
 
 whether he had the use of his arms and legs, which 
 to his great delight he found to be all right, al- 
 though he suffered some from the nervous shock 
 he had received by the overturning of the car. 
 
 He next sought to learn the condition of his 
 friend and he shook Alpheus by the shoulder, whis- 
 pering in his ear as loud as he dared, for he did not 
 wish to attract the attention of the guard. 
 
 "Alpheus, hey Alpheus! Are you injured?" 
 
 "Don't know, rather guess I am. But what 
 has happened? What's wrong?" came in a dazed 
 tone. 
 
 "Keep still! Only see if you can move. We 
 must now try to make our escape, and quickly, too. 
 The car has broken away from the train and gone 
 over an embankment, and now is our opportunity 
 before they bring a light. Do try and see if you 
 can move just a little, so we can get out of the car." 
 
 Alpheus made an attempt to rise but sank back 
 with a groan, declaring he could not stand upon 
 his feet for he believed his left leg must be broken 
 off at the ankle. 
 
 "Can you not hold yourself up against the win- 
 dow if I should assist you?" 
 
 "I'll do my best," said the plucky young soldier. 
 
 Andrew first tried to move the sash of the win- 
 
148 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 (low, but the car lying in a twist, he found it resisted 
 all his efforts. Determined to lose no more time, 
 he dashed his foot through the window sending the 
 glass flying in all directions. The cool air came 
 rushing in, fanning his heated brow and adding 
 new strength to his sinews. 
 
 "There goes another Yank," shouted a guard 
 in the darkness, as the noise of flying glass fell on 
 his ears. 
 
 "Why the don't somebody strike a 
 
 light?" 
 
 Andrew quickly grasped his comrade and 
 dragged him up to the window. He then hastily 
 made his exit through the open space, going feet 
 foremost. He found the ground only a short dis- 
 tance away and as soon as his feet rested upon 
 "terra-firma," he turned, and reaching in, seized 
 Alpheus by the shoulders and carefully drew him 
 through the window. 
 
 The young soldier at once sank down helpless,, 
 for the pain in his ankle was excruciating. An idea 
 had seized upon Andrew, and he was about to re- 
 enter the car, when Alpheus observing what his 
 companion was about to do, at once begged him ta 
 desist. 
 
 "I'll only be gone a minute," said Andrew; "I 
 
THE ESCAPE. 149 
 
 want to get one of those muskets for you know we 
 are unarmed." 
 
 "Oh! comrade, don't leave me," implored the 
 injured man. Andrew's heart was touched. He 
 debated a moment in his mind whether he should 
 make the attempt to secure a musket. But the 
 matter was decided for him by some one striking 
 a light in the car. 
 
 Stooping down, he quickly drew his comrade 
 across his back and carefully made his way through 
 the tangled brush of the swamp, every now and 
 again making a mis-step and sinking over shoe-top 
 in the dark, slimy mud. But on he struggled, his 
 one great desire was to get away as far as possible 
 from the hated guards. 
 
 By this time he could hear loud voices, and he 
 rightly judged that some of the guards had found 
 their way outside of the car, so with increased en- 
 ergy he plodded on. Finally growing faint, and 
 allowing his companion to slide to the ground, he 
 leaned against a tree to regain his breath, for he 
 felt weak from his long fast. 
 
 After a brief rest he again applied himself to his 
 task, and carried his friend farther into the deep 
 recess of the wood. He had reached higher 
 ground now and more firmer footing. 
 
1 50 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 At last, finding the trunk of a fallen tree lying 
 in his path, he placed Alpheus upon it and taking 
 a seat by his side, he again rested and listened. 
 Away in the distance they heard the whistle of an 
 approaching engine. They concluded it was the 
 train returning for the missing car, and in this con- 
 jecture they were correct, although this was not 
 learned until some time after the war. 
 
 The trainmen not realizing that anything had 
 happened to the rear of the train, allowed it to 
 pursue its course until they had covered some five 
 or six miles, and then the loss of the car was dis- 
 covered by a mere accident. 
 
 The engineer having run his train on a siding 
 to allow the up train (shortly due) to pass, the con- 
 ductor, lantern in hand, was making an examina- 
 tion of his train, when to his surprise he found the 
 passenger coach that had been attached to the rear 
 of his train, missing. 
 
 The engineer was hastily notified, who, leaving 
 a brakeman to signal the train almost due, detached 
 his engine and tender and taking the conductor on 
 board, ran out on the main track and crowding on 
 steam, reversed his lever and hurried backward in 
 search of the missing car. By this time the moon 
 was beginning to show her face above the ridge of 
 
THE ESCAPE. -J5I 
 
 the hills, and objects could be seen at quite a dis- 
 tance along the track, so they sped rapidly along, 
 finally arriving at the scene where the coach parted 
 from the train. They stopped and looked down 
 with surprise. 
 
ANDREW BENTLKT. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 
 
 HE approach of the coming engine was 
 listened to with nervous trepidation by 
 our two friends as they sat together in 
 the dark wood, and when it came to a 
 stop, they were more anxious than ever to put as 
 great a distance between themselves and their 
 enemies as was possible. So again taking Alpheus 
 upon his back, Andrew toiled bravely onward. 
 The rising moon partly lit up the dark forest, 
 throwing long shadows from the tall pines. An- 
 drew felt his strength leaving him, but while he 
 was almost ready to sink to the ground, he still kept 
 on his way. At last he felt he could go no farther, 
 so placing his comrade carefully on the ground, he 
 stood and wiped the perspiration that was stream- 
 ing from his brow. 
 
 Alpheus insisted on trying to walk, so after 
 resting a few moments, Andrew assisted him to rise, 
 and the young soldier leaning heavily on the shoul- 
 der of his stalwart friend, made a painful attempt 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 153 
 
 to move forward. But Alpheus found he was mis- 
 taken ; he could make but slow progress, and then 
 only with great suffering, so they rested again. 
 
 Happily, Andrew perceived a dense growth of 
 underbrush near by, and leaving his comrade's 
 side, he broke a pasage into it, and finding this a 
 fairly good retreat and somewhat protected from 
 prying eyes, after scraping some dead leaves to- 
 gether, he returned to his friend, and tenderly pick- 
 ing him up, bore him into the thicket and placed 
 Alpheus upon the couch improvised for him. 
 
 The young soldier looked up into the face of his 
 comrade and tears stood in his eyes, while his voice 
 was tremulous as he spoke. "Andy, old boy ! I'm 
 afraid that I'm a burden to you, and will interfere 
 with you making your escape. Had you better 
 not leave me and try to make your way to our lines 
 without me?" 
 
 Andrew looked at him with surprise. "Why, 
 Alpheus! What are you talking about? Leave 
 you? No, never. Surely you would not dream 
 that I could be guilty of so base an act as to leave 
 you alone in this condition?" 
 
 "Yes, but comrade," replied Alpheus, "you see 
 I cannot walk, and it will be impossible for you to 
 
154 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 carry me," and here the poor fellow broke down, 
 his voice choked with sobs. 
 
 Andrew knelt by his side. "Alpheus, my dear 
 boy, our agreement was that one should not at- 
 tempt to make an escape unless the opportunity 
 was offered to the other as well. Do you think I 
 could ever forgive myself if I should abandon you 
 now? No! If we are captured, it will be to- 
 gether and if we escape, we shall escape together, 
 and we shall not give up trying until we reach our 
 lines if Andrew Bentley has to carry you the entire 
 distance on his back." 
 
 At this moment, Alpheus looking up at his 
 comrade through his tears, thought he had never 
 seen a face so beautiful. "God bless you, my dear 
 friend; my ankle don't seem to pain me near so 
 much when I listen to your brave and noble decla- 
 ration." 
 
 "Yes," said Andrew, "that reminds me that I 
 should have looked at your injured limb before this 
 time, but my mind was engrossed with other things. 
 I will now see what I can do for it." And he care* 
 fully loosened his comrade's shoe and pulling down 
 his sock proceeded as well as he could, in the un- 
 certain moonlight to examine the hurt. 
 
 He found the ankle and surrounding parts 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 155 
 
 much inflamed and swollen. He was not sure, 
 but he thought that no bones had been broken. 
 Possibly it might be only a dislocation or severe 
 sprain. At any rate, he felt that he was unable just 
 at that time to relieve his friend very much. He 
 asked Alpheus for his handkerchief and joining it 
 to his own, he made them into the form of a ban- 
 dage which he bound as tightly as the sufferer 
 could bear it around the injured part. 
 
 Alpheus declared that Andrew was the making 
 of a first-class surgeon, and that if they ever got 
 back to the Union lines he would recommend him 
 for a place upon the surgeon's staff. They sat to- 
 gether for awhile in silence, each busy with his 
 own thoughts. 
 
 The moon climbing higher in the heavens, now 
 sent her silvery beams down through the dense fol- 
 iage of the tall pines, making a sort of wierd light 
 about them. 
 
 Andrew feeling somewhat rested, declared if he 
 did not feel so weak from hunger he would make 
 an attempt to push on farther into the forest. 
 
 This aroused Alpheus, who finding the pain in 
 his limb somewhat abated, now more keenly than 
 ever felt the pangs of hunger, for it had been fully 
 eighteen long hours since they had tasted food. 
 
156 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 "I'd give a month's pay to be permitted to eat the 
 cold bread and bacon that I'd find at this moment 
 in the pantry at home," said the young soldier 
 plaintively. 
 
 Andrew, at the mention of bacon, seemed to 
 remember something, and quickly reaching into 
 the breast pocket of his blouse, drew forth a pack- 
 age enveloped in some black muslin, which he care- 
 fully unfolded, revealing something wrapped up in 
 what appeared to be an old letter. This our hero 
 removed, placing the paper in his pocket, and held 
 up to view a piece of greasy bacon. 
 
 Alpheus, who had been closely watching the 
 movements of his companion, uttered a cry of glad 
 surprise, "Where in all creation did you get that?" 
 
 "In my pocket," quietly replied his comrade, 
 making an examination of his precious find. 
 
 "Well, can't you just reach into your pocket 
 again and perhaps you may be able to draw forth 
 a loaf of bread or some hard tack," said Alpheus 
 jocosely. 
 
 Andrew said he was not so much of a wizard as 
 that, although he would be mighty glad to do so if 
 he could. 
 
 Securing the loan of Alpheus' pocket knife, he 
 cut the meat in two pieces, handing his comrade a 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 1 57 
 
 trifle the larger piece. They both, without any 
 further ceremony greedily devoured their greasy 
 portion, sorrowful as the last bite disappeared down 
 their throats that there was no more. Hunger 
 truly imparts flavor to any sauce, for here were two 
 men who, under any other conditions, would have 
 hesitated to attack a repellant piece of greasy, raw 
 bacon, and when they had finished it long for 
 more. Andrew informed his companion how he 
 came into possession of the meat, and regretted 
 now that he had not laid in a supply of other food. 
 The allowance for each was small, not sufficient to 
 fully stay the pangs of hunger, but they had noth- 
 ing else, so philosophically accepted the situation 
 and tried not to murmur. 
 
 They decided that as they stood much in need 
 of information as to their whereabouts, it was bet- 
 ter to stay where they were, and in the morning 
 for Andrew to make a reconnoisance. They did 
 not apprehend that any pursuit would be made that 
 night, yet did not like to risk traveling any farther 
 for fear they might be running into danger. They 
 were both weary and the moon having become ob- 
 scured by heavy clouds floating in the sky, it grew 
 dark within the thicket. So burrowing deeper into 
 their beds of leaves, they ceased conversing and lay 
 quite still. 
 
158 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 The afternoon and evening had been quite sul- 
 try as well as the earlier part of the night. But 
 now a slight wind had arisen and soughed through 
 the pine tree-tops with a mournful sound. An- 
 drew could not tell what time of night it might be, 
 but he judged it must be past midnight. He no- 
 ticed that the face of the sky had undergone a 
 change in the last half hour. The face of the moon 
 was now entirely hid by the clouds, and the air was 
 indicative of a downpour of rain before morning. 
 
 Andrew tried to think out a plan of action, but 
 nothing lucid appeared to his mind. His eyelids 
 were growing heavy, and ere long he stretched 
 himself out alongside of his companion, who was 
 already locked in slumber. He soon joined him in 
 dreamland, and there within the depths of a Caro- 
 lina pine forest our two soldier boys slumbered as 
 peacefully as though under the home-roof on the 
 Western slope of the Alleghenies. 
 
 How long they slept, they did not know, but 
 they were awakened by a terrific roaring of the 
 wind as it swept through the tree-tops, causing the 
 tall pines to sway back and forth as though they 
 were bowing to the mighty power that so rudely 
 disturbed them. Every now and again a dead 
 branch wrenched from its fastening came swoop- 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 159 
 
 ing to the ground, while the dry leaves were caught 
 up by the undercurrent and swept through the 
 wood like a snow storm. 
 
 Soon the lightning began to flash athwart the 
 sky, followed by heavy peals of thunder, which 
 sounded in the ears of the now thoroughly aroused 
 sleepers, as though a fierce artillery duel was in 
 progress. Then there came a lull, the wind ceased 
 to blow, and then it seemed as though the flood 
 gates of the clouds had burst from their fastenings. 
 
 The rain fell in torrents, coming straight down, 
 penetrating every nook and corner. Any ordinary 
 shelter would have proven insufficient for protec- 
 tion, and our two friends having nothing whatever 
 to cover them were soon drenched from head to 
 foot. 
 
 Andrew thoughtfully took his comrade's cap 
 and his own, and turning them inside out, man- 
 aged to catch a few mouthfuls of rain water, which 
 Alpheus declared tasted almost as good as the ba- 
 con. 
 
 "Yes," replied Andrew with a sly twinkle in his 
 
 clear blue eye ; "not quite so good, though, as that 
 
 apple-jack in that old canteen would taste had we 
 
 it here/' 
 
 ; > "Now, Andy, I think it is time to let up on that 
 
l6o ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 apple-jack," said his comrade, who still felt a cha- 
 grin at the way they had been gobbled up, as he 
 chose to term it. 
 
 "I was only joking, comrade," said Andrew. 
 "Never mind what I say." 
 
 Andrew's propensity to tease was always pre- 
 dominant, and though grave their situation, he 
 could not refrain from making occasional refer- 
 ence to the prime origin of their present condition. 
 
 The rain after flooding hill and dale, abruptly 
 ceased falling. It had grown light by this time 
 and the rising sun sent its gleams through the 
 wood, warming up the atmosphere and resting 
 upon the drops of rain yet clinging to the leaves, 
 making the forest trees look as though bedecked 
 with a coronet of pearls. 
 
 Our two soldier boys hailed the rain storm with 
 delight. True, they were wet to the skin, but their 
 clothing would soon dry as the weather was warm. 
 
 With the fall of rain, the earth was saturated 
 with water, and thus all scent of their foot steps 
 had been washed away, effectively preventing their 
 being tracked and hunted down like wild beasts by 
 the blood hounds their enemies usually put upon 
 the track of escaping prisoners. 
 
 Again, the air was more buoyant and fresh from 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. l6l 
 
 its cleansing and our two friends, notwithstanding 
 their forlorn condition, felt in better spirits than 
 the night before. This was no doubt in part due 
 from their rest, and the short slumber they had both 
 enjoyed. After a short conference it was decided 
 that Alpheus should remain where he was, while 
 Andrew would make a survey of their surroundings 
 and learn what he could of their chances for escape. 
 
 Our hero started out with but a faint hope in 
 his heart of being able to learn anything, as he 
 feared the pine forest was one of the many exten- 
 sive tracts of woodland found in North Carolina 
 which covered many acres in extent. 
 
 He was quite anxious that he should find some- 
 thing that would serve as food for his famishing 
 friend as well as himself. 
 
 Kind reader, just allow your stretch of imagina- 
 tion to place you in a like predicament as Andrew 
 now found himself to be in. Weak and languid 
 from long fasting; in a dense forest with no 
 knowledge of his surroundings, unarmed and in- 
 capable of defending himself from an enemy that 
 in all probability might be even now upon their 
 tracks. Besides, he knew not what wild animals 
 might infest the woods. Then he had an injured 
 
 II 
 
1 62 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 comrade unable to walk, to care for. Surely his 
 position was not an enviable one. 
 
 But Andrew Bentley was a man of strong will 
 and determination, and although he was not serv- 
 ing in the ranks from his own volition, yet he would 
 return, if only for the sake of his comrade. Come 
 what may, he would never desert Alpheus Forest 
 in his extremity. 
 
 He first thought he would endeavor if possible 
 to learn something of his enemies, so he made a 
 detour in the direction in which he supposed the 
 railroad track to lie. He found that in their jour- 
 neying during the early part of the night, that they 
 had reached much higher ground than the sur- 
 rounding country. He had not proceeded far un- 
 til he came to a point where he could see the bright 
 lines of the railway track stretching far away in 
 the distance, glinting in the bright sunlight, but no 
 sight of any car over an embankment could be seen. 
 
 He then turned and walked in an opposite di- 
 rection from the one in which he had been travel- 
 ing, and after going a hundred yards or more, he 
 again sought a view of the railroad, looking this 
 time in an opposite direction from the time before. 
 There in the distance lay what appeared to be 
 a car with one end protruding from among the low 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 163 
 
 brush. He obtained a better view and looked 
 long and earnestly. Yes, it was the car in which 
 they had journeyed from Lynchburg. But all was 
 still and silent around it, not a sign of a living thing 
 could be seen. 
 
 Andrew was at a loss to know what all this si- 
 lence could mean. Surely they were not all dead, 
 nor was it probable that they had left the car. But 
 he had no means of finding out and he dared not 
 approach much closer. Then he reasoned. What 
 did it matter to him? True, there might be Union 
 men still in the toils, but if so, how could he render 
 them any aid? Their situation was largely like 
 the French in their defeat at Waterloo. It was 
 truly a case of "Sauve qui peut !" ("Save himself 
 who can!") and so Andrew retraced his steps to 
 where he had left his comrade. This would have 
 been somewhat difficult for him to do had he not 
 scattered a few broken branches along the way to 
 guide him on his return. 
 
 He related to his friend what he had seen, then 
 proposed to reconnoitre in a different direction. 
 Alpheus was loathe to have his friend leave him 
 again, but it was very necessary that they learn the 
 better way to travel on their journey ; besides, there 
 was a vain hope of Andrew finding something to 
 
164 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 stay the pangs of hunger that now began to be felt 
 by both of them quite keenly. 
 
 Promising to return soon, Andrew set out, 
 marking the way for his return in the same man- 
 ner as he did before. He had worked his way a 
 considerable distance into the forest when he was 
 startled by the sound of an axe falling faintly upon 
 his ear. 
 
 At first he thought his sense of hearing had de- 
 ceived him. He stopped and listened. Yes, 
 there he heard it again. Must be at quite a dis- 
 tance he thought. He now debated in his mind 
 whether he should advance or return. If he should 
 go forward and meet with those who were his ene- 
 mies, be discovered and captured, what would be- 
 come of his helpless comrade waiting for his return? 
 Still if he expected to accomplish anything he must 
 take some chances. He at last determined to 
 proceed cautiously and find out all he could with- 
 out being discovered. So he stepped lightly 
 through the wood, keeping as much as possible 
 within the shade of the trees. Louder and louder, 
 sounded the strokes of the axe as he approached 
 nearer, 
 
 Andrew felt that the wood-chopper, whoever 
 he might be, was evidently alone. He now exer- 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 165 
 
 cised greater caution for he did not wish to be ob- 
 served, should the man with the axe prove to be 
 unfriendly. So quietly stepping from tree to tree, 
 he slowly approached and gaining the shelter of 
 a large pine he cautiously peered out from behind 
 its trunk. 
 
 The sight that met his eyes caused his heart to 
 give a throb of joy. An aged negro with skin as 
 black as ebony stood upon a fallen pine, one of the 
 victims of the late storm. He was plying his axe 
 with unusual vigor. His arms were bared to the 
 elbows, and showed a mass of knotted sinews. 
 While our hero looked, he paused, and drawing 
 forth a much faded red cotton handkerchief, vig- 
 orously mopped his face and brow, from which 
 were streaming large drops of perspiration. He 
 seemed to be addressing some one, and just then 
 Andrew caught sight of a negro lad probably ten 
 years of age, who was playfully gathering the chips 
 that flew from the log as the old man's axe clove 
 the resinous pine. The boy was attired in a blue 
 cotton shirt, with patches of various colors, an old 
 ragged pair of brown overalls, much too large for 
 him, enveloped his legs, but his round chubby face 
 evinced that he was the possessor of good health if 
 he didn't sport good clothes. 
 
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 :: 
 
 dofadMTuralcokir, 
 tic* be corid aidr approach. For 
 
 
 tibe axe feB 
 Tfeebor 
 
 Wfa ! Who de MM ate JOIMC? 
 
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 on MCB^ aaa MC ^^rc CTKKMcr tnac it JPCNWI not 
 to Make bitMseff also, fty^ a 
 
 o tibr a(^4 acgro, wbo after a 
 to p(acc ] own, 
 
! Yoosea 
 
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 ll B loBCl. TI>. 
 
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1 68 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 "An' youse a Linkum sojer? An' yer meanter 
 say youse a pris'ner?" 
 
 "No, not just now," replied Andrew pleasantly. 
 "My comrade and I made our escape last night." 
 
 "An* youse shore youse a Linkum sojer?" And 
 the black man passed his hands over Andrew's 
 blouse and rested caressingly upon the brass but- 
 tons. It was evident that Andrew was the first 
 man he had ever seen of that great army, whom he 
 had been told had come to give freedom to those 
 of his race. 
 
 "An' dese are de close Mar's Linkum dres' his 
 men in? An' do dey all hev' butons like dese wif 
 de picter of a chicken on?" And he again fingered 
 the buttons, gazing intently at the spread eagle 
 outlined thereupon. 
 
 "That is the picture of the 'Bird of Freedom,' " 
 said Andrew, for he felt amused at the child-like 
 simplicity of the old man. "Did you ever hear of 
 that bird?" 
 
 The aged darkey shook his head, while he mut- 
 tered, "Mos' likely sum of dem bu'ds dat Mar's 
 Linkum keep." Then speaking louder, "No, we 
 doan hev dat bu'd down yer." The poor African 
 made a truthul statement. His race knew no bird 
 of freedom. 
 
'A;*' youse a Linkt. m sojer ?" 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. I/I 
 
 Andrew reminded his colored auditor that he 
 and his comrade had been out in the rain last night, 
 and that they were very hungry. This seemed to 
 arouse the old man from the spell which had come 
 over him at this his first sight of a "Linkum so- 
 jer" as he termed our hero. 
 
 Turning around, he caught sight of the boy 
 whose head was now protruding from the brush, 
 his curiosity having overcome his fears. 
 
 "Here youse brack scamp! Cum youse rite 
 out here now, go long quick, an' tell mammy to 
 sen' rite off sum cold pone an' roast taters." The 
 lad needed not a second bidding. But coming 
 forth from his retreat, he dashed off among the 
 trees. 
 
 "Hi dar !" shouted the ole man, "Jist tell mam- 
 my to add a little cawfee, an' tell her to make um 
 rale hot." The messenger paused for a moment, 
 then sped on. 
 
 "An' duz Mar's Linkum dres all his men dis 
 way?" again inquired the admiring darkey. 
 
 Andrew assured him he did. 
 
 "Well ! Well ! How's he gwine to tell youse 
 apart when he wants youse?" 
 
 Andrew seated himself upon the fallen tree and 
 tried to explain to the wondering man, but soon 
 
1/2 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 gave it up for a bad job. The intellect of the aged 
 darkey could not grasp things in the abstract. He 
 listened with open-eyed wonder as Andrew re- 
 lated to him of the wreck of the car, and the escape 
 of himself and the injured Alpheus, and their de- 
 sire to get some assistance in making their way 
 back to the Union lines. The old darkey readily 
 agreed to lend all the assitance in his power, for 
 he felt highly honored in being allowed to do some- 
 thing for the great cause of freedom. 
 
 "Uncle, did you ever see any soldiers down this 
 way?" said Andrew. 
 
 "Yes, sah, but dey's all Confed'rit. I hearn 
 tell dey's sum of youse Linkum men down ter 
 Sals'bury, but den dey's all prisoners. Nevah seen 
 one dough." 
 
 Andrew asked him if there might not be dan- 
 ger of a pursuit with dogs? 
 
 "Can't tell, Mar's, hardly tink dog much ac- 
 count since dat rain last nite ; wash away all smell." 
 This was true although our two friends did not fully 
 realize how great a blessing the flood of rain 
 proved to be. But we will speak of this later. 
 
 The youngster whom the old man addressed 
 as Tony, it being the short for Anthony, arrived by 
 this time with a basket in which were several pieces 
 
A NIGHT IN THE WOODS. 
 
 of nice, well-browned corn bread, a few baked po- 
 tatoes, with some salt, and a jar about half full of 
 hot coffee, the whole covered with a worn piece of 
 linen of snowy whiteness. 
 
 Andrew thanked the boy, who grinned and dis- 
 played a full row. of ivories while if he blushed, the 
 color was not perceptible. 
 
 "Can't youse bow to de gemman, youse brack 
 imp? Hain't youse grandaddy done teach youse 
 more manners as dat?" At this outburst from the 
 aged man, the lad doffed his old straw hat and made 
 a bow that would have done credit to a Chester- 
 field. 
 
 It had been decided that the best plan was for 
 the two escaped prisoners to remain in their place 
 of concealment until the shades of evening, when 
 the negro would come and conduct them to his 
 cabin. 
 
 By command of his grandparent, Tony accom- 
 panied Andrew in order to bring back the basket 
 and also learn the way that he might be able to 
 conduct the old man to our soldiers' hiding place 
 later in the day. 
 
1/4 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 KINDNESS OF THE SLAVE. 
 
 REAT Jehosaphat !" exclaimed Alpheus, 
 when after what seemed to him an in- 
 terminable long absence, Andrew re- 
 turned with the boy at his side. "I was 
 sure, old boy, that they had gobbled you again, you 
 stayed so long. And who's this?" he said, looking 
 at Tony. 
 
 "This is a young friend whom I found with his 
 grandfather a short distance away cutting wood. 
 But see here's the best thing of all that I found," 
 and he held up the basket. 
 
 "Food!" ejaculated Alpheus; "where on earth 
 did you get it?" And as Andrew removed the 
 cover from the basket, his comrade looked in with 
 a glad surprise written on his face. 
 
 "Surely you are a magician, Andy; first you 
 reach into your pocket and draw forth a piece of 
 pork, next you go forth in a dense forest, and bring 
 back a basket with some nice food." And with 
 this he plunged his hand into the basket and seiz- 
 
KINDNESS OF THE SLAVE. 1/5 
 
 ing a piece of corn bread, together with a potato, 
 he proceeded to take a bite, first of one and then of 
 the other. His companion did likewise and ere 
 long the basket was empty. 
 
 They divided the coffee, first one drinking the 
 half, and then the other draining the vessel of the 
 remainder. All the while, the boy stood by in 
 open eyed wonder, not saying a single word but 
 doing an immense amount of thinking, for he had 
 never seen men eat so ravenously before. 
 
 When they had finished their meal, he took the 
 basket and hurried back to his grandparent, de- 
 claring, "Dey's de hungriest men I eber se'ed in all 
 my bo'n days." 
 
 The old man was so excited he could do no 
 more work that day, so declaring to the boy, "Fse 
 guess I done got 'miff wood fer dis time," he gath- 
 ered up some sticks and bidding the boy do the 
 same, he threw his axe over his shoulder and 
 started for his cabin. This was a red letter day to 
 the poor old slave, and he could hardly contain 
 himself until he broke the news to his old Mandy, 
 that he had this day communioned "wif a rale Lin- 
 kum sojer" (as he termed it), and that another was 
 lying in the wood injured. 
 
 "Go way, Eben, youse old fool," said his better 
 
ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 half. "No Linkum sojers down dis way, 'ceptin 
 dem as is in de prison down at Sals'bury." 
 
 "Yes deed dey is, rale white Linkum men jist 
 'scaped and we must help dem, else Mar's Linkum 
 be rale mad at us if he's fine it out." 
 
 This argument settled it with the old negress, 
 and she fell to work to remove some barrels and 
 boxes from an excavation 'neath the floor of the 
 cabin, where they usually stored their small stock 
 of cabbage and potatoes for the winter. 
 
 This done, she took down some raccoon skins 
 from the wall and placed them upon the bottom, 
 thus forming a soft rug. She robbed her own bed 
 of an old dingy coverlet, which she carefully hung 
 around the sides to hide out the sight of the ground. 
 Next she hunted up an old canvas bag, in which 
 her husband used to tote his potatoes from the field, 
 and taking Tony with her, she went to the woods 
 and raking together some dead leaves, they filled 
 it, and bringing it to the house, she placed it in the 
 underground apartment remarking to herself, 
 "Dat'll do fer de one who Eben sez is injered." 
 
 Then she visited the potato patch and vigor- 
 ously plying the hoe for a short time, soon returned 
 to the cabin with a goodly supply of sweet potatoes 
 which she washed and prepared for roasting. 
 
KINDNESS OF THE SLAVE. 
 
 Next she proceeded to mix up some corn meal 
 and water to a consistency, and enveloping it in 
 some damp linen, she raked out the ashes and plac- 
 ing it therein, carefully covered it over with more 
 hot coals and left it to bake, declaring "Dat men as 
 hungry as her Tony said dose men were, would no 
 doubt be able to eat consid'able." 
 
 Then Tony was called and given a few instruc- 
 tions and soon the squawking of a feathered biped 
 revealed the import of his mission. 
 
 While all this was going on, the old slave was 
 not idle. He had cut two long poles from which 
 he had trimmed all branches. Next he sought a 
 tree in the forest known as the elm, and from this 
 he stripped long pieces of a kind of stringy bark, 
 which, after laying the poles about three feet apart, 
 he wound and plaited the bark back and forth, un- 
 til he had improvised a sort of stretcher sufficiently 
 strong enough to bear the weight of an ordinary 
 sized man. 
 
 He had learned from Andrew that his com- 
 rade had a badly injured ankle and with this 
 thought in mind, the faithful fellow betook himself 
 again to the forest, where, after sometime spent in 
 a diligent search, he returned with a quantity of 
 roots and bark, part of which he first pounded and 
 
 12 
 
ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 then steeping them in boiling water, he set it by, 
 ready to bathe the limb of the sufferer when he 
 should arrive. 
 
 Andrew and his friend Alpheus, after appeasing 
 their hunger, sat and conversed for some time. 
 Then his comrade complaining of his injured limb 
 paining him, our hero proceeded to examine it. 
 This he could do better than the night before, as he 
 had a better light. He found the ankle still in a 
 swollen condition, though apparently not so bad 
 as the night previous. He could do nothing but 
 carefully replace the bandage, but promised the 
 sufferer to give it his immediate attention as soon 
 as they arrived at the negro's cabin. 
 
 There was now nothing else to do but wait for 
 the coming of their dusky benefactor. Alpheus 
 declared that sleeping was as cheap as keeping 
 awake, stretched himself out upon his bed of damp 
 leaves, and though it was far from being comfort- 
 able, was soon breathing heavily. Andrew did not 
 deem it best for both to lose themselves in slumber, 
 so concluded he had better keep a watch for fear of 
 a pursuit. 
 
 The long afternoon was wearing away and the 
 shadows were falling, Andrew keeping faithful 
 vigil by the side of his friend. Alpheus after slum- 
 
KINDNESS OF THE SLAVE. 179 
 
 bering for several hours, at last awoke and rubbing 
 his eyes sat up. It was fully a minute before he real- 
 ized his surroundings. Observing his comrade sit- 
 ting so quietly by his side, the impulsive boy threw 
 his arm around Andrew's neck and burst forth with, 
 "Oh, you good, faithful Andy, here you have been 
 watching while I have been sleeping." 
 
 His comrade assured him that it was all right. 
 That he preferred to keep awake as he was not sure 
 but there might be pursuers upon their track, and 
 he didn't want to be caught napping. 
 
 "Do you think the old darkey will come for us?" 
 said Alpheus. 
 
 "Without a doubt," replied his comrade. "I 
 never saw a man so full of admiration and so de- 
 sirous of aiding a Union soldier." 
 
 "Well, I guess we'll just have to wait 'till he 
 comes," said Alpheus, almost peevishly. Poor boy, 
 he was weak from hunger and the trying experience 
 he was passing through unnerved him. 
 
 While they are patiently waiting the com- 
 ing of night and their sable benefactor, we might go 
 back a little and inform our readers of what took 
 place at the scene of the accident, although the 
 events we are now about to record were not known 
 
1 8O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 until sometime after the white winged angel of 
 peace had spread her wings over a once more re- 
 united nation. 
 
 We left the engineer with his fireman and con- 
 ductor standing in the moonlight looking down at 
 the upturned coach. And, as they did so, it 
 dawned upon all three, how futile it was for them 
 to return with the bare engine and tender. 
 
 Of the score of prisoners who had been con- 
 fined in the car, only six of those who remained 
 were without any apparent injury except a few 
 bruises. One had been killed outright by being 
 trampled upon in the darkness. Three had es- 
 caped. Why there were not more, we are unable 
 to say as an opportunity was offered to all who were 
 able to leave the car. The remaining ten were 
 more or less injured; some had broken legs, others 
 broken arms, and others injured internally. Of the 
 guards, but few had escaped without slight injury, 
 but only one or two were found unable to do guard 
 duty. 
 
 The engineer seeing he could do nothing, and 
 knowing he was delaying the northward bound 
 train, bade the guard await his return, and went 
 thundering back to where he had left his train 
 standing on the siding. Arriving there he found 
 
KINDNESS OF THE SLAVE. l8l 
 
 the north-bound train waiting. He at once ran 
 his engine in on the siding, giving the waiting train 
 a clear track, which at once proceeded on its way. 
 
 The conductor then detached two empty 
 box cars and coupling them fast to the engine, and 
 taking on some extra guards, who had remained 
 on the freight train, they hurried back to the scene 
 of the accident. 
 
 Once there, they set about carrying those of the 
 guard who were unable to walk to one of the box 
 cars and placing them therein, they next transferred 
 the worst injured prisoners to the other box car, 
 then others not so badly injured, until finally all 
 were safe on board. The one Union soldier who 
 had yielded up his life in the accident, was without 
 ceremony thrown into a shallow ditch nearby and 
 covered by some underbrush, there to rest in what 
 might be considered a poor pretext for a grave, un- 
 knelled, uncoffined, and unknown until the resur- 
 rection morn, while in the many weary years to 
 come a vacant chair will stand in some Northern 
 home, waiting for a form that will never occupy it, 
 and weary eyes will grow dim watching for a loved 
 one that will ne'er return. When their work was 
 completed they made haste back to that portion of 
 the train left upon the siding, where all was soon 
 
182 
 
 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 connected together, and the engine once more in 
 front, the train went dashing off toward Salisbury 
 where it arrived sometime after midnight. 
 
 There the prisoners regardless of their suffer- 
 ing, were hustled out of their car and placed with- 
 in the stockade where they were soon lost sight of 
 in the great mass of common sufferers who were 
 wasting away in the many prison pens of the South. 
 
 A report was made of the loss of the car, and the 
 escape of the prisoners. In the morning a wreck 
 train crew was sent out to see what could be done 
 with the overturned coach. Accompanying them 
 were a few soldiers with a dog. The trainmen 
 made an attempt to place the car upon the track 
 but failed, then set it on fire and soon a heap of 
 smouldering ashes marked the resting place of the 
 ill-fated coach. 
 
 The soldiers made repeated efforts to have the 
 dog take the trail of the fugitives, but owing to the 
 copious rainfall of the night, all trace of those es- 
 caping was obliterated, and ere long the attempt to 
 recapture the runaways was given up in disgust. 
 Although the escaping prisoners not being aware 
 of this, suffered as much apprehension of mind as 
 though a pursuit was being made. 
 
KINDNESS OF THE SLAVE. 183 
 
 The shades of evening had now fallen upon the 
 forest, and the gloom had crept into the thicket 
 where our two friends sat waiting. They were 
 expecting every minute to hear the approach 
 of the darkey. Alpheus, who had been rather 
 skeptical regarding the promised assistance from 
 their colored friend, now broke forth. He de- 
 clared that he did not think the man meant to come 
 for them. But Andrew who still had faith in the 
 promises of his old black friend, bade his comrade 
 be patient just a little longer. 
 
 At last Andrew's promise to his friend was 
 verified. A slight noise was heard outside the 
 thicket, and soon the boy put in an appearance, 
 followed by the od man carrying on his shoulder his 
 home-made stretcher. 
 
 He apologized for his delay by saying that he 
 made "consid'able 'zamination of de woods fer tu 
 see ef dere was enny sojers wif dorgs around. I 
 reckon youse doan know dat de way dey's hunt 
 'scaped pris'ners an brack people is wif dem big 
 dorgs. I'se tel you dem dorgs means bizness when 
 dey's gits arter a feller. He's almost ketched ter 
 once. Dem dorgs de po'fullest critters youse eber 
 se'ed, sho's yo' born." 
 
 It's no telling how long the negro would have 
 
1 84 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 kept up this discourse on "dorgs" had not Andrew 
 intimated that they were anxious to be away. Al- 
 pheus was at once carefully placed upon the littler 
 provided by the slave, and soon they were on their 
 way to his cabin, Andrew and the old darkey carry- 
 ing Alpheus and the boy walking in front leading 
 the way. 
 
 They walked through the forest for a long time 
 in silence. At length they paused for a short rest. 
 
 "Youse fren' need some 'tenshum, I reckon?" 
 
 "Yes/' replied Andrew, "his ankle is still swol- 
 len." 
 
 "I'se fix dat all right soon as we'se git to de 
 cabin," said the negro looking down at Alpheus 
 with a face full of sympathy. 
 
 "I hope it won't delay us long on our journey," 
 remarked Andrew. 
 
 "Doan youse teck no trouble about dat. Old 
 Eben will tend to dat leg. He's wanter do sumfin 
 fer Mar's Linkum dis yer long time." Alpheus, 
 who had been listening, was at once disarmed of all 
 doubts and fears. He afterward declared that he 
 would be willing to trust his life with the old Af- 
 rican. 
 
 Again they resumed their journey and presently 
 emerged from the wood and entering a cornfield 
 
KINDNESS OF THE SLAVE. 185 
 
 in which the corn was till standing in the ear, they 
 made their way carefully so as not to break any of 
 it down, soon came to a small cleared space in the 
 center of which stood a cabin barely perceptible in 
 the gathering gloom. 
 
 As they neared the door, it was thrown wide 
 open and an aged negress stood before them. 
 Her head was done up in a faded red handkerchief 
 wound around her in the form of a turban. Her 
 dress was almost covered by an immense gingham 
 apron quite conspicuous on account of its large 
 bar and bright color. 
 
 These few extra articles of dress were about all 
 Mandy had to receive company in, but no queen in 
 royal robes of state felt more proud to receive her 
 most honored courtier, than did this poor slave 
 wife and mother, in knowing she was about to offer 
 a shelter to two soldiers of the great war of Mar's 
 Linkum. 
 
 Her welcome assured the two fugitives that 
 here was both shelter and safety. 
 
 "Walk right in gemmen an' teck dat p'or man 
 off dat stretcher and place him on de bed." 
 
 Alpheus smiled and said he would try to get 
 along without going to bed. The old auntie then 
 hurried in and drawing forth a broad pine bench, 
 
1 86 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 quickly snatched an old comfortable from a bed 
 standing in a corner. This she folded and spread 
 it upon the bench, making a fairly comfortable 
 couch for the young soldier. 
 
 The cabin was small, with but one room. It 
 was made of logs with a clay mortar worked in be- 
 tween, and the whole covered by a whitewash that 
 might once have been the color its name implied, 
 but now was only a dingy yellow, possibly due to 
 smoke and age. 
 
 At one end was a large fireplace from which 
 the smoke was carried by a mud-and-stick chimney. 
 There was but one small window of two panes of 
 glass. This was carefully covered by a piece of 
 blanket and after they had entered, old Eben se- 
 curely barred the door and placed a large stick of 
 wood close to the lower edge to shut out all light 
 that might stream forth. 
 
 The floor was made of rough boards that had 
 evidently been put down when green, and drying 
 out from year to year, thus leaving a large crack 
 betwixt each one. 
 
 This was the plain home of slavery, but no 
 gilded palace hall could have been more acceptable 
 to its owner, than this refuge to the two men who 
 felt that they were among those, who would if 
 
KINDNESS OF THE SLAVE. 1 8? 
 
 necessary, give their last bite of food to the two be- 
 neath their roof and feel honored in doing so. 
 
 The boy Tony had hurried off to the spring and 
 now came in with a basin of water and a towel as 
 he said "fer de gem'men to bave wif." This little 
 act of courtesy coming from a poor negro boy was 
 all the more appreciated by our two friends. 
 
 The room indicated that their coming had been 
 anticipated, for the table had been drawn to the 
 center of the room and spread with a white sheet, 
 and Mandy had placed thereon all her pewter plates 
 and tin cups, which she had scoured and burnished 
 until they shone like silverware in the flickering 
 light of the fire. 
 
 She had been busy all afternoon getting ready 
 for her distinguished guests, and a look of satisfac- 
 tion was on her face as she placed upon the table 
 a nice roasted chicken, a goodly quantity of roast 
 sweet potatoes, and a freshly baked pone. 
 
 Bidding her guests be seated, she poured out 
 for each a mug of steaming hot coffee made from 
 roasted corn, which, though it had not the flavor 
 of Mocha and Java, still had a delicious taste to her 
 two hungry guests. 
 
 Need we ask if they enjoyed that supper? The 
 
1 88 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 way the chicken, sweet potatoes and corn pone dis- 
 appeared evinced enough. 
 
 The man and boy stood at a respectful distance 
 behind their guest. Andrew beckoned the old 
 man and urged him to be seated but he shook his 
 head. He remembered that he was only a slave and 
 that his guests were white men. Mandy was very 
 attentive in waiting upon our two friends, urging 
 upon them to "teck moar cawfee an' jist help 
 yo'sels to chicken," and seemed delighted to see 
 them enjoy their repast. 
 
 At length after fully satisfying the inner man, 
 they pushed back from the table, Alpheus declar- 
 ing that he felt as well satisfied as though he had 
 feasted at Delmonico's. 
 
 Andrew thanked their hostess for the nice sup- 
 per they had, which set her off in a series of bows 
 and curtseys, while her old heart was filled with joy 
 and delight, and she muttered to herself : 
 
 "Nevah seed sich nice lookin' men, an' dey's so 
 perlite. Speaks to an ole brack auntie jes' as ef 
 I was a white lady/' 
 
 After supper the old man bathed Alpheus' ankle 
 with the decoction he had prepared and carefully 
 bound it up with a bit of clean linen. 
 
 The two soldiers sat and conversed for some 
 
KINDNESS OF THE SLAVE. 189 
 
 time with their dusky friends, the old man doing 
 most of the talking while the old auntie and boy sat 
 looking at their guests with eyes full of admiration* 
 From the old man they learned that he and his fam- 
 ily were all owned by a rich planter, who at the out- 
 break of the war had entered the Confederate army 
 and that in one of the early battles in Virginia had 
 been killed. That the plantation had been for a 
 time in charge of an overseer, but he having been 
 conscripted into the army, there was no one to 
 look after the black people, and that he and his old 
 woman had come to this cabin, which belonged to 
 the plantation, to wait till the war would close. 
 
 He also informed them that Tony's father was 
 his son, and that he was now somewhere in the 
 neighborhood of Charleston where he had been 
 taken to work upon the rebel fortifications. 
 
 At length when the hour came for retiring (al- 
 though there was no timepiece to indicate the 
 hour), the old man lifted two of the boards in the 
 floor and showed their guests the retreat that had 
 been prepared for them. Tony got a pine knot, 
 lighted it and held it, so our friends could get to 
 their quarters. Alpheus was helped down and 
 resting upon the skins Mandy had placed there, de- 
 clared he would not want a better bed. 
 
ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Andrew took his place by the side of his com- 
 rade and the old negro replacing the boards, they 
 lay conversing together in the faint light which 
 came through the cracks in the floor from the fire 
 above. 
 
 But the old auntie soon covering the coals with 
 ashes, all light faded out and they were left in dark- 
 ness. 
 
 "I feel like thanking our Heavenly Father for 
 so kindly providing for us this refuge/' whispered 
 Alpheus. 
 
 "Supose we do," said Andrew, and together the 
 two men knelt down, and there in the silent dark- 
 ness of that slave cabin, a united prayer of thanks- 
 giving went up to Him who "doth not fail to note 
 even the fall of a sparrow." 
 
 In the morning the savory smell of frying pork 
 greeted their olfactories, and ere long they were 
 back at Mandy's table delighting the poor old wo- 
 man's heart with the relish they showed for the food 
 she had prepared for them, while an occasional 
 compliment from Andrew set her almost wild with 
 joy. 
 
 Again the aged negro dressed Alpheus' ankle, 
 which already began to show signs of improve- 
 ment, the swelling having visibly diminished. 
 
RETURN TO THE UNION LINES. 1QI 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 RETURN TO THE UNION LINES. 
 
 URING the day the boy Tony kept a 
 sharp lookout from the edge of the 
 clearing, and thus the day passed like 
 many others that followed, while the 
 injured ankle continued to grow stronger. 
 
 Tony kept up a faithful watch for a week, then 
 relaxed his vigilance somewhat. The old negress 
 labored long and hard to make the stay of her 
 guests pleasant. There was one thing that was 
 puzzling Andrew, that was how to make their way 
 through the country and escape detection, as their 
 bright blue uniforms were rather conspicuous. He 
 counseled with his comrade and after thinking the 
 mater over, but one avenue seemed open to them 
 to get around the difficulty. And this offered only 
 a partial outlet for them. It was to exchange 
 clothes with their host. But the poor old slave 
 did not possess a change of clothing, and those of 
 Tony were too small. 
 
 While they debated the question, a way opened 
 
ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 up unexpectedly, which enabled them to surmount 
 the difficulty. 
 
 One night after all had retired a knock was 
 heard at the door of the cabin. The occupants 
 were startled and our two friends in their hiding 
 place waited breathlessly for developments. 
 
 "Who's dar?" came the voice of old Eben. 
 
 "Jist me, daddy," replied the voice from with- 
 out. 
 
 "Go long dere now, do youse spec I'se gwine 
 ter let youse in kase youse call me daddy? Um, 
 guess not ef dis nigga knows his'sel." 
 
 Again there came a knock, and a voice saying 
 in an imploring tone, "Do let me in daddy, I'se 
 youse son Mose. Doant youse know Mose? 
 Him who was tecked away off to work fer de Con- 
 fed'rits?" 
 
 Then the old man was heard counseling with 
 his wife, "Sho nuff, I believe dat is our boy Mose, 
 I'd orter know'd his voice." And with this the 
 parent arose and unbarring the door let in his boy. 
 
 There was great rejoicing. Little Tony had 
 to be waked up to share in the joy ocasioned by the 
 return of his daddy. 
 
 Our two friends who had been listening in- 
 tently now sank back with a feeling of relief that 
 
RETURN TO THE UNION LINES. 193 
 
 the coming of the stranger boded them no ill. In 
 the morning the father proudly introduced his son 
 Moses, who proved to be a strapping young dar- 
 key about Andrew's size. Mose had watched his 
 oportunity and had taken French leave of his com- 
 panions on the earth-works near Charleston and 
 made his way home. He was delighted to meet 
 with the Union soldiers and hoped he could be of 
 assistance to them. His coming provided the way 
 for the exchange of clothing, and Mandy worked 
 hard to put the clothes of her son and husband in 
 as fit condition as possible for the exchange. 
 
 The aged negro at first protested against the 
 exchange of the fine blue clothes of the Union sol- 
 diers for his old rags. But in his heart there was 
 a secret delight, and after he had donned one of the 
 suits, he could often be seen sitting in the bright 
 sunshine admiring himself with a greater satisfac- 
 tion than the most fashionable dude of a great city. 
 
 About a fortnight had passed since the coming 
 of the Union men to the negro's cabin, and the 
 young soldier's injured limb was almost as strong 
 as ever. Plans were laid for their departure, for 
 they were anxious to get back to the Union lines. 
 Then again they did not like to impose further up- 
 on the generous hospitality of the old couple. It 
 
 13 
 
194 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 was decided that Mose should accompany them 
 until he could find another to take his place. 
 
 Our two soldier boys bade their benefactors an 
 affectionate farewell, taking their black toil worn 
 hands in theirs. The old negress actually broke 
 down and cried, while old Eben had to resort fre- 
 quently to the use of his faded handkerchief. 
 
 Andrew and Alpheus bestowed upon the old 
 couple all the little trinkets in their possession, and 
 Andrew rewarded Tony for his faithful vigil by 
 presenting him with the ten dollars of Confederate 
 money he had received from the rebel soldier at 
 Lynchburg. 
 
 The boy took it and made a low obeisance, 
 while he grinned and showed the whites of his eyes. 
 The Confederate money had no significance to 
 him, but he prized it highly because it came from 
 a Lincoln soldier. 
 
 With a parting injunction from old Eben for 
 "Mose ter be shuah ter pro wide fo de men an' look 
 out fo' clorgs," the trio took their departure. 
 
 We will not go in detail how they journeyed, 
 mostly by night in order to avoid being observed, 
 hiding in caves and occasionally seeking the pro- 
 tection of some negro cabin. Mose proved to be 
 not only a safe guide, but faithful in looking out for 
 
RETURN TO THE UNION LINES. 195 
 
 their wants while they traveled. At one time they 
 feared that dogs were on their track, as they heard 
 their bark in the distance, but they threw them off 
 the scent, if such was the case, by walking a consid- 
 erable distance in the bed of a stream before re- 
 suming their course. 
 
 After several days journey, the faithful Mose 
 bade them farewell, first supplying them with a 
 trusty guide, whom he happened to know living 
 along their route. 
 
 And thus they kept on, each day drawing 
 nearer the Union lines. Andrew learning by ex- 
 perience that knowledge of travel by night, which 
 served him later on in his life as a soldier. 
 
 At last one morning as the sun was lighting up 
 the tree-tops on the Virginia hills, they looked 
 down upon a piece of bunting waving in the dis- 
 tance. Its colors of red, white and blue making on 
 the dark background of green forest leaves a pic- 
 ture which the two weary travelers declared was 
 the prettiest they had ever looked upon. 
 
 It was the flag of their country, and underneath 
 its folds was safety and protection. 
 
 It proved to be floating over the outposts of 
 their own corps (the Third) and ere long they were 
 back in the camp of their own regiment, where 
 
196 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 they were congratulated by their comrades upon 
 their return, as they were supposed to be dead or 
 taken prisoners. 
 
 The regiment had moved its camp and was now 
 many miles from the old farm house on the War- 
 rentown Pike. So it was impossible for Alpheus 
 to visit the farmer and secure his canteen of apple- 
 jack, as well as wreak his vengeance on the F. F. V. 
 
 But both of our friends had an experience they 
 did not soon forget, and months after, while lying 
 in winter quarters, some one would call for the 
 story of "How near two Yankee soldiers came to- 
 getting some old Virginia apple-jack." 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 1 97 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 
 
 HE spring of 1864 came and a new life 
 was infused into the rank and file of the 
 army by General Grant, who had met 
 with noted success in the West, being 
 made Lieutenant General of all the forces of the 
 United States. Heretofore, each army had acted 
 independently of the other; now they were to act 
 in concert, and thus prevent the Confederate forces 
 from aiding each other. 
 
 The strength of the South lay in the armies of 
 Lee in Virginia and Joseph E. Johnston in Geor- 
 gia. Grant was to attack the former and Sherman 
 the latter, and both were to keep hammering at the 
 work regardless of wind or weather. 
 
 History records how effectively Sherman did 
 his part of the work, and also how Grant verified his 
 terse telegram, "We will fight it out on this line if 
 it takes all summer." 
 
 May 5th and 6th witnessed the battle of the Wil- 
 derness. In this battle, the Colonel of Andrew's 
 
198 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 regiment, who had before his enlistment been a 
 Methodist minister, and had been dubbed "The 
 Fighting Parson," led his men into the fight all the 
 while singing a popular camp meeting chorus. 
 
 The battle had been raging since early dawn 
 
 when the Colonel of the Sixty , Penna., was 
 
 ordered to take his regiment and charge the ene- 
 my, then posted in strength along the plank road. 
 These planks had been taken up and placed in piles 
 along the road, thus affording the enemy a protec- 
 tion against the rain of musketry that showered 
 upon them from the Union line. 
 
 When the order was given, the regiment moved 
 out with its old time precision ; not a man faltered, 
 though they knew it was almost a forlorn hope, but 
 on they went, all the while subject to a decimating 
 fire. But they wavered not. They had reached a 
 point within a few rods of the enemy's line, when 
 the order was given to "Double quick time !" But 
 hardly had it been sounded when from behind the 
 barricade spoken of, there arose seemingly a bri- 
 gade of the enemy, and poured into the advancing 
 regiment a murderous fire, which seemed to shrivel 
 it up like a tender plant under the blighting effects 
 of a frost. 
 
 The range being so short nearly every shot told 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 
 
 with fatal effect, and that which was once the pride 
 of the brigade, was now a writhing contorted mass 
 of humanity, fleeing wildly towards the wood, leav- 
 ing over half their number on the field. The offi- 
 cers that had escaped did their utmost to bring or- 
 der out of confusion, but their efforts were a failure. 
 
 Andrew Bentley's Company occupied the cen- 
 ter of the line, and our hero was in his place march- 
 ing along with the stoicism of an Indian. As the 
 line was advancing in double file, Andrew was thus 
 thrown in the rear rank. When the fire opened 
 and the crash came, the men in front of him, both 
 right and left, were seen to go down together, An- 
 drew was also seen to fall at the same time. When 
 the fight was over, an attempt was made by the 
 remainder of the regiment to recover its dead and 
 wounded in the fatal charge, but in this they wefe 
 only partially successful, for the underbrush having 
 taken fire, was now a raging sheet of flame, licking 
 up both the dead and wounded in its capacious 
 maw. 
 
 Again the news flew Northward that another 
 terrible battle had been fought, and in the village of 
 
 N there was gloom and sadness, for the 
 
 news had come that Andrew Bentley had been 
 seen to fall in the charge, and that owing to a part 
 
2OO ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 of the battlefield having been swept by a forest fire, 
 it was impossible to recover his body. The little 
 village again put on the garb of mourning, and as in 
 the case of Phineas Gray a memorial service was 
 held, at which there were many moist eyes for all 
 remembered the circumstances attending his sec- 
 ond entering the army. 
 
 In the home of the aged parents the sorrow 
 was indeed truly great. It was not of the loud, 
 demonstrative kind, but a quiet bowing down of the 
 aged forms and a throbbing of hearts filled with 
 unutterable woe. Annie Preston was with them, 
 mingling her tears with theirs in a common sorrow. 
 Farmer Bentley tried to console himself with these 
 words, "He died on the field of honor." This 
 sounded sweet to Annie, but it did not fill the ach- 
 ing void in her heart. The days went sorrowfully 
 by and Andrew was mourned, not only as one dead 
 but one denied a soldier's burial. 
 
 It was about a fortnight ater the news had 
 
 reached N of the battle of the Wilderness 
 
 and the seeming fate of Andrew Bentley, when in 
 the deepening twilight a form clad in a butter-nut 
 suit, his head covered by an old white hat much the 
 worse for wear, slipped out of the wood that ad- 
 joined the Bentley farm, and stole through the 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 2OI 
 
 fields till he reached the door of the farm house. 
 He first took a hasty peep inside, which though 
 short, revealed the form of the aged parents sitting 
 alone by the supper table. He gave a light rap 
 upon the door which was at once answered by 
 Farmer Bentley, who threw the door wide open 
 letting a bright ray of light fall upon the figure out- 
 side. For a moment he appeared stunned, then 
 quickly pressing his hand to his brow, he seemed 
 about to fall backward, uttering at the same time a 
 cry, "My God, is it my boy Andrew back from the 
 dead?" He would have fallen but the figure in 
 butter-nut eagerly sprung forward and tenderly as- 
 sisted the almost unconscious man to a chair. Mrs. 
 Bentley at once arose and came forward to learn 
 what was wrong, when the word "Mother" fell 
 upon her ear, and instantly she was clasped in a 
 pair of strong arms. She had caught a sight of his 
 face and the surprise was too much for her. She 
 hung limp and helpless in his arms. "Andrew!" 
 for it was no other carefully placed her upon a 
 couch near by and proceeded to bathe her face and 
 wrists with cool water. She quickly revived and 
 opening her eyes they rested lovingly on her son 
 whom she had mourned as dead. 
 
 Andrew hastily assured his parents "that it was 
 
2O2 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 he, and not a spirit from the shadow land.'* They 
 were overjoyed to have him with them again. 
 "But why this strange costume? This coming so 
 unexpectedly?" 
 
 "That requires an explanation and carries with 
 it somewhat of a story, but mother first let me have 
 a bite of something to eat, for I'm almost fam- 
 ished. Have had nothing since morning; just a 
 bit of bread and meat, if you have it handy, and 
 then while I eat I will give you my story." 
 
 The fond mother hastened to spread before him 
 a tempting array of eatables. Andrew having first 
 drawn the blinds close down, went to the door, 
 opened it, and cast a searching glance out in the 
 darkness, for he fancied he had heard a suspicious 
 noise 'neath the window, but after a close survey 
 he quickly closed the door and quietly shoved the 
 bolt too, so as to prevent any outsider from enter- 
 ing unannounced. 
 
 He then returned to the table, seated himself 
 and began a hungry attack upon the food before 
 him. Seeing his father and mother sitting in anx- 
 ious expectation he began, and we will give his 
 story just as he related it. 
 
 "Father and mother, I hope you will both for- 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 2O3 
 
 give me for what I have done, but I could not help 
 it." 
 
 "Help what?" exclaimed his mother. And a 
 feeling of a dread of something terrible came over 
 her. 
 
 "Why, you see," said Andrew, "when we started 
 on that fearful charge upon the plank road, I felt 
 that I would be the last to turn back, but when 
 that terrible fire swept over us, and hundreds of our 
 brave boys bit the dust, the two men in front of me 
 being pierced at the same time by the deadly mis- 
 siles, and falling upon me with their combined 
 weight, I was borne to the ground with them, but 
 soon struggled to my feet only to find the boys of 
 the regiment going pell-mell towards the wood. 
 I at once started to follow them, but losing my way, 
 I failed to find my command. But keeping on, I 
 soon found quite a body of stragglers, who were 
 skulking in the woods. It was then the thought 
 came to me of returning home, for I had always 
 felt that I was unjustly forced into the service, and 
 while I did my duty at all times, I had but little 
 heart in it. You must also know, that there is lit- 
 tle show for promotion of a conscript when among 
 volunteer soldiers. I felt that I could not look for- 
 ward towards being anything else than a common 
 
2O4 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 soldier. So carefully concealing my gun and 
 cartridge box 'neath a fallen tree, I resolved to sever 
 my connection with the army and travel home- 
 ward. 
 
 "I soon found quite a large company in the 
 same notion as myself. But it would not do for us 
 to travel together in a body, so we separated into 
 groups of two and three, to insure more safety. 
 *At one time I was obliged to swim the river and 
 draw one of my companions upon a board after me, 
 who was unable to swim. All the while the water 
 about me was churned into a foam by the bullets of 
 the Union pickets. At another time we fell in with 
 some of Moseby's guerrillas, with whom we ex- 
 changed uniforms and afterwards passed off as 
 Southern refugees going North. 
 
 "I traveled all the way on foot and mostly at 
 night. I was obliged to beg my way for I did not 
 have a cent of money. At one time I was within 
 a half a mile of Uncle John's who lives in the Cum- 
 berland Valley, but I did not dare call on them as 
 I did not wish to reveal myself.'* 
 
 Again Andrew fancied he heard a noise without 
 and, rising, he went quickly to the door, opened it 
 and cast a scrutinizing glance into the darkness. 
 
 An actual occurrence. 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 205 
 
 "You see," he said, returning to his seat, "I 
 am not desirious of being seen by any one of the 
 neighbors and should prefer that they do not know 
 of my being at home. 
 
 "I confess I am, or will be looked upon in the 
 light of a deserter. But I only want a few days of 
 rest and a change of clothing, when I shall start for 
 one of the Western states, there to remain till the 
 war is over." 
 
 At the word deserter, his father groaned aloud. 
 "My son," said he, "it is only natural that as a 
 father, I should feel like shielding you, but I must 
 say frankly that I cannot commend the course you 
 have taken. It grieves me very much that a son of 
 mine should turn his back on the old flag. We 
 mourned you as dead, but in our sorrow we had the 
 consolation of believing you had perished on the 
 field of honor. I fear it is impossible for you to 
 remain concealed from our neighbors; even now 
 your coming may have been witnessed by some. I 
 don't know that we have a soul unfriendly toward 
 us. But then some imprudent one may carry the 
 news to the county seat, and soon the Provost 
 Marshall will be here with his minions to hunt you 
 down and you know the fate of a deserter, my boy. 
 Tis an open grave, a coffin, a platoon of soldiers 
 
2O6 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 with loaded muskets. He who has proved recreant 
 to his vow furnishes the rest." 
 
 The father while talking had arisen and was pac- 
 ing excitedly to and fro, while the hot scalding 
 tears fell like rain down the mother's withered 
 cheeks. 
 
 "My son! Oh, my son! Why did you do 
 this?" she wailed in the anguish of her heart. An- 
 drew could not bear to look upon the distress of his 
 loved parents. He buried his face in his hands, 
 while the tear-drops trickled through his fingers 
 and fell on the floor. 
 
 At that moment he fully realized the mistake 
 he had made, that he was an outcast from society. 
 He groaned aloud: 
 
 "Father! Mother! Forgive your mistaken, 
 boy. I will return at once and try to retrieve my 
 lost honor." 
 
 "You cannot return at once my boy," said the 
 father. "You must first be provided with suitable 
 clothing ; you cannot go forth in that garb. I will 
 also see that you are provided with funds necessary 
 for traveling." 
 
 It was decided that Andrew should keep in se- 
 clusion until by nightfall of the next day, when he 
 would repair to the house of a kind neighbor who 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 2O/ 
 
 lived in a secluded part of the country, and there re- 
 main until he was fully prepared for the journey. 
 
 The hopes of the Bentley family to keep con- 
 cealed the return of their son, were doomed to dis- 
 appointment. Already their secret was in the pos- 
 session of one who, as the reader well knows, had 
 no particular love for Andrew Bentley. 
 
 As the door was thrown open in answer to the 
 light rap made by Andrew, and the flood of light 
 streamed out revealing his figure as well as that of 
 his father standing in the door way, Henry Wil- 
 liams paused at the garden gate. Having a few 
 moments' leisure in the store, he had quietly slipped 
 out and taken the path through the meadow lead- 
 ing in the direction of Farmer Bentley's. He had 
 wished to make a purchase of some cattle the 
 farmer had for sale, knowing that if he could but 
 get them at a low figure, he could dispose of them 
 at quite a profit to himself. He hesitated before 
 lifting the latch and while doing so, he heard the 
 cry uttered by the aged man and noticed his seem- 
 ing faintness, the hurried rush of the figure outside 
 to his assistance, and all of Henry's senses were on 
 the alert. He was not sure but what he had heard 
 the name Andrew in the surprised cry. 
 
 Not having the highest sense of honor, he crept 
 
2O8 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 stealthily up to the window thinking to get a peep 
 inside, but in this he was disappointed for just at 
 that moment some one inside drew the blinds 
 down close, and in a few moments the door was op- 
 ened. Henry sank silently down behind a rose- 
 bush near by and breathlessly waited. As soon as 
 the door was closed and the coast seemed clear, he 
 placed himself close to the window fully resolved to 
 hear the conversation carried on inside. In this he 
 was successful, learning all of Andrew's desertion 
 from the army, and the discomfiture of the parents. 
 Then deeming he had accomplished sufficient for 
 one evening, he turned to steal away when his foot 
 by some means becoming entangled in a creeping 
 vine, he was thrown heavily to the ground. 
 
 It was this noise that Andrew had heard, when 
 the second time he threw open the door and gazed 
 out. Henry did not at once attempt to rise, but lay 
 quite still and it was well that he did so, otherwise 
 he would have been detected by the watchful eyes 
 of Andrew. 
 
 As soon as he deemed it safe, he arose to his 
 feet and hurried away chuckling to himself over the 
 news he possessed. Now will the proud Annie 
 Preston be humbled, and she will find there are just 
 as honorable men at home as those who go to the 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 2CX) 
 
 war. How the folks will look surprised to-morrow 
 when they find their dead hero has turned out to be 
 a live deserter. And thus soliloquizing with him- 
 self, he hastened homeward. 
 
 The first caller at the store in the morning 
 proved to be Judge Preston, who was on his way to 
 the station to take an early train for the city. He 
 only wanted to purchase some postage stamps but 
 enough time was afforded Henry to remark "that a 
 surprise awaited the people of N ." 
 
 The Judge inquired of what nature. 
 
 "Well, Judge, you would hardly believe it, but 
 Andrew Bentley has come to life and is at home," 
 
 "What, home? I can't believe it; but how 
 come you to know it?" queried the Judge. 
 
 Henry was for a moment taken a little aback to 
 explain how he came into possession of the knowl- 
 edge of Andrew's return, but his wits quickly com- 
 ing to his rescue he glibly replied, "Why I was 
 passing that way last night and saw a man clad in a 
 butter-nut uniform" approach the door and knock, 
 and when Farmer Bentley opened it I heard him 
 call his son by name." 
 
 "Yes, but you may have been mistaken," said 
 the Judge. "Farmer Bentley has another boy 
 
 14 
 
2IO ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 lately returned from the West, and it may have been 
 him whom you saw." 
 
 "I don't think I am mistaken for the son you 
 refer to is only a stripling of a boy and this was a 
 bearded man. I have every reason to believe it 
 was Andy Bentley and furthermore I believe he has 
 deserted from the army." 
 
 "Well, Andrew may be at home, but I cannot 
 believe he has deserted. No, never! Too true a 
 boy to do that," said the Judge somewhat testily, 
 and folding up his stamps he drew on his gloves and 
 left the store. 
 
 Throughout the entire forenoon Henry regaled 
 his patrons with the wonderful news. Many of 
 them looked upon it as a case of mistaken identity 
 on Henry's part. A few thought it possible that 
 the dead man might have come to life, and An- 
 drew returned in the flesh, but that he had deserted 
 was too much to charge to Andrew Bentley, the 
 favorite of almost everybody in the village. 
 
 But the seed had been sown, and sensational 
 news travels rapidly, so before the close of the day, 
 the entire community had heard of the conjectured 
 return of Andrew Bentley. Great was the mystery 
 for none of the family in whom the interest was cen- 
 tered appeared upon the street, except the younger 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 211 
 
 brother Walter, and all the busy-bodies could do, 
 they could obtain no information from him. Judge 
 Preston said nothing to his family about the mat- 
 ter upon his return home in the evening, but early 
 the next morning he called upon Farmer Bentley 
 and in a tactful way brought the subject up of An- 
 drew's return. He said it was only a rumor which 
 he hardly credited, but he thought the best way 
 was to ascertain for himself the truth or untruthful- 
 ness of the report. Farmer Bentley's face evinced 
 both the surprise and pain he felt. He was at a 
 loss to conceive how the news had been spread, for 
 he was sure Andrew had not left the house since his 
 return. 
 
 As he knew Judge Preston was a warm friend 
 of the family, and had been instrumental in pro- 
 curing Andrew's discharge, with many other kind 
 acts, he frankly told him of the return of his son, 
 and while he did not intend to say much more on 
 the subject, by a few adroit questions onjhe part 
 of the Judge, he intimated, then finally admitted, 
 that his boy had left the army in a way that did not 
 reflect credit on himself or family. 
 
 The anxious father appealed to the Judge for 
 advice upon the matter. 
 
 "Well," remarked his neighbor, "if Andrew has 
 
212 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 deserted and the fact becomes known, as I fear it 
 likely will, it may go hard with the boy. They will 
 force him to go back into the army if for nothing 
 else than to undergo a court martial and suffer the 
 penalty for desertion, and I hardly need tell you 
 what that is," said the Judge. 
 
 The look upon the face of the father was pitiful 
 to behold, but he hade no reply, only his breath 
 came short and fast, while his hands trembled per- 
 ceptibly. 
 
 "I would advise," said the Judge, "the best and 
 safest plan for Andrew would be to get back into 
 the army as soon as possible. Urge upon him to 
 do this and all may yet be well." 
 
 Farmer Bentley thanked him and said that he 
 had already advised Andrew to this course. 
 
 The Judge did not ask to see the young man, 
 knowing it would be the wish of the family to have 
 no intrusion, so after a few more remarks, he bade 
 the father good morning and turned his steps 
 homeward, communing with himself as he walked. 
 
 "I hate to think of that boy being a deserter. 
 The last man I would think of turning his back on 
 the old flag. What in the world prompted him to 
 do it? Surely there must have been some powerful 
 influence to urge him to do this." And thus try- 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 213 
 
 ing in his mind to find something to ameliorate the 
 action of Andrew, for he always admired the boy, 
 he entered the shady avenue leading to his home. 
 
 At the dinner table, the Judge not knowing 
 anything of the existing relations between the son 
 of Farmer Bentley and his daughter Annie re- 
 marked that "It did not seem possible that one 
 mourned as dead like Andrew Bentley should re- 
 turn to them." 
 
 At the utterance of these words, Annie gave a 
 start and turned deathly pale, while objects in the 
 room seemed to float about her, but in a few mo- 
 ments she recovered, and in a voice quivering with 
 excitement asked : 
 
 "What did you say, father, about Andrew Bent- 
 ley" 
 
 "Why," replied the Judge, "yesterday morning 
 as I was on my way to the station, I stopped for a 
 few minutes at Williams' store, and while there, 
 Henry gave me a bit of news about Andrew Bent- 
 ley's arrival at home, and he intimated that he had 
 deserted." 
 
 "I don't believe a word of it," hastily replied 
 Annie. "I believe he is talking of something he 
 knows nothing about. Pray how did Henry Wil- 
 
214 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 liams come to learn all this?" she continued 
 warmly. 
 
 "He said he was coming by there last night 
 when Andrew arrived," remarked her father. 
 
 "Yes, and I dare say did not hesitate to play 
 eavesdropper," replied Annie. Her pale face now 
 turned to a crimson with the indignation she felt 
 towards Henry. 
 
 The Judge looked at his daughter with some 
 surprise. "Why these caustic remarks about 
 Henry Williams, daughter? Has he offended you 
 in any way?" Annie made no reply. "Well," 
 continued the Judge, "to satisfy myself, I went 
 over to Farmer Bentley's this morning and al- 
 though I saw no Andrew, I had an interview with 
 his father, and I am sorry to say Henry Williams' 
 report is true, yet how he learned so much without 
 eavesdropping, as you say, I am at a loss to know." 
 
 "Father, you do not mean to say that Andrew 
 Bentley is at home, and worst of all, that he is a de- 
 serter?" and Annie looked imploringly at her 
 father. 
 
 "It seems to be that way," returned the Judge, 
 "But why, daughter, should this affect you so?" 
 
 But again he failed to receive a reply to his 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS DESERTION. 21$ 
 
 query, for Annie saying, "Pray excuse me," hastily 
 arose from the table and made her way to her room 
 where she threw herself down and burst into a vio- 
 lent flood of tears. 
 
 "I cannot think it possible; it must be some 
 horrid mistake. Andrew may be at home, but to 
 have deserted, never! He was too much the soul 
 of honor. No ! No ! I will not believe it," and 
 thus all afternoon she went about praying that after 
 all, it might turn out to be a dreadful mistake. 
 
 It was nearly eight o'clock before she found 
 time to make her accustomed visit to the farm 
 house, and it was with a throbbing heart she met 
 Mrs. Bentley in the door way. 
 
 "Welcome, my daughter," said the sad-eyed 
 mother, in whose face Annie could not fail to read 
 fresh traces of sorrow. "You came expecting to 
 meet Andrew, but he is gone." 
 
 "Gone !" exclaimed Annie. "Then it is true he 
 has been home?" 
 
 "Yes," replied the mother, "but we deemed it 
 best that he seek some place more secluded than 
 this, while he remained at home. He wanted very 
 much to see you, but it would have been quite im- 
 proper for him to be about much." 
 
Jl6 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 "But why so? Why this seclusion?" eagerly 
 questioned Annie. 
 
 Tears came into the eyes of the aged mother. 
 "My daughter/' and her voice full of anguish, "for 
 some cause or other Andrew has forgotten himself 
 and proved unfaithful to his trust. I cannot think 
 he did so without some good reason. But he is 
 what I fear they call a deserter." 
 
 And here the fond mother broke down and 
 could say no more. Annie's heart was full to over- 
 flowing, but her eyes refused a tear. 
 
 She was filled with conflicting emotions. One 
 moment she entertained pity in her heart for the 
 misguided Andrew, the next, a feeling of scorn and 
 contempt swept o'er her at the thought of her lover 
 being classed as a deserter, one so lost to honor as 
 to desert his flag and country in the hour of danger. 
 
 She did not ask when or where Andrew had 
 gone. For the moment she did not seem to care. 
 After a short conversation with the old lady, she 
 gave her the usual good bye kiss and took her de- 
 parture. 
 
 "You will try to think kindly of Andrew," said 
 the ever kind and thoughtful mother. 
 
 "I will try." But Annie's voice, always soft 
 and sweet, sounded hard and cold. She passed out 
 
BATTLE OF THB WILDERNESS DESERTION. 2 1/ 
 
 into the darkness, not any denser than the gloom 
 that hung over her young heart. 
 
 Her Andrew, a coward, a deserter, kept ringing 
 in her ears, and seemed to dry up all the pity and 
 love in her being. She reached her home, a seem- 
 ingly changed woman. 
 
 Andrew fortunately did not know the feelings 
 that were being entertained by his sweetheart. In 
 fact he was not aware that his return home was 
 known in the village, for his father deemed it best 
 not to relate to him his interview with Judge 
 Preston. ' 
 
 It was only a little while before Annie's arrival 
 that he had bade a tender farwell to his father and 
 mother, and accompanied by his younger brother, 
 Walter, they had stolen out into the darkness and 
 made their way to a family who lived some two 
 miles back among the hills in a rattier isolated 
 spot. 
 
 This family was under many obligations to 
 Farmer Bentley, who had visited them that day, 
 and made arrangements with them to receive his 
 son for a short time. 
 
 If Andrew had lost caste with Annie on account 
 of being a deserter, there was one in whose eyes he 
 posed as a hero. Walter's admiration for his 
 
2l8 ANDRKW BENTLEY. 
 
 brother increased rather than diminished, for had 
 he not faced the blazing cannon? Had his arm 
 pierced by a rebel bullet? Then had he not been 
 forced to return to the army against his will? And 
 could he not leave and come home if he wanted to? 
 
 With the free-booter feeling characteristic of 
 boys, Walter felt that Andrew had done nothing 
 wrong, and was not deserving of censure. The 
 boy had but one idol and that was his brother. 
 
 And he loved him with a love surpassing that of 
 a woman. He proved to be a faithful look-out for 
 the exile, and brought him all the news. Some of 
 this was not very comforting to Andrew, for it was 
 through Walter he learned that the news of his 
 coming home and his manner of leaving the ranks 
 was now known in the neighborhood. He puz- 
 zled his brain to know how his secret got abroad, 
 but when he learned that it first emanated from 
 Williams, he concluded that Henry must have been 
 a listener on the night of his arrival home, and it 
 no doubt was he, who made the noise that he had 
 heard twice upon that night. 
 
 In order to pass the time away, Andrew spent 
 much of it in roaming through the lorest with a 
 gun in search of game, and many a nimble squirrel 
 
BATTLE OF THE WILDERKESS DESERTION. 2 19 
 
 fell before his unerring aim, for Andrew was a good 
 marksman. 
 
 In these excursions he was invariably accom- 
 panied by Walter, and every squirrel brought down 
 from a far distant tree-top, only served to increase 
 his admiration for the skill of his idolized brother. 
 
 Andrew had been supplied with clothing and 
 money by his father ; but still he lingered, fostering 
 the fond hope that he might by some means secure 
 an interview with Annie, for he feared he had fallen 
 in her esteem. He had sent her a message by 
 Walter but up to this time had received no reply in 
 return. His delay was suddenly terminated by a 
 circumstance, which while he feared, he had hoped 
 would not come to pass. 
 
 The ever faithful Walter accidentally overheard 
 Henry Williams remark to a neighbor when clos- 
 ing the store one evening, "Well, we'll soon know 
 whether he is in the neighborhood or not," for up 
 to this time none of the villagers had obtained even 
 a glimpse of the hiding soldier, and the belief was 
 daily growing that he had never returned to 
 
 N . "Yes, we expect the Provost Marshal 
 
 here to-morrow with a detail of men to make a 
 search." 
 
22O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 
 
 HIS was enough for Walter Bentley. He 
 knew whom they alluded to. His be- 
 loved brother was in danger. Hastily 
 he sped home and related what he had 
 heard to his parents. He was desirous, late as it 
 was, to go and warn Andrew, but they persuaded 
 him that it was better to retire and go early in the 
 morning. 
 
 Walter did so, but it was hard to court sleep, 
 with such a momentous matter on his mind. He 
 finally fell into a fitful slumber, disturbed by 
 dreams, but as the old kitchen clock pealed out 
 the hour of four, Walter was up and dressed. It 
 was fast growing light, and not waiting for his 
 breakfast, the faithful boy sped away across the 
 fields and woodland, to break the news to Andrew 
 of the probable danger. 
 
 Although it was quite early in the morning, he 
 heard the familiar crack of Andrew's rifle. He at 
 once gave a peculiar whistle, which had been 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 221 
 
 agreed upon between them as a signal. This was 
 at once answered by his brother, toward whom he 
 quickly made his way. He found Andrew on the 
 edge of a clearing with already several nice gray 
 squirrels hanging from his belt. Walter rushed up 
 to him breathless, for he had ran nearly all the way. 
 
 "Oh, brother ! They are coming !" 
 
 "Who are coming?'* asked Andrew, looking 
 into the fear-stricken face of the panting boy. 
 
 Walter having gained some composure, at once 
 made known to his brother what the reader already 
 knows. 
 
 Andrew felt for him to tarry would be perilous. 
 He had hoped to pay one more visit to his father 
 and mother. He had lived with the expectation 
 of somehow or other meeting with Annie, ere he 
 would take his departure, but now he realized that 
 he must go at once. So handing Walter his rifle 
 and game bag, he signified his readiness to take his 
 leave. 
 
 The parting of the brothers was like that of a 
 David and Jonathan. Walter watched Andrew 
 until his form was lost in the forest, then with a sad 
 heart and tears in his eyes, he picked up the gun 
 and game-bag and sorrowfully made his way home- 
 ward. All day long he kept a bright look-out for 
 
222 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 the expected officers but none came ; then the boy 
 was sorrowful, lest he had been mistaken and 
 caused his brother to unnecessarily hasten away. 
 
 But by noon of the day following, several men 
 with glittering lace bedecked uniforms, mounted 
 upon prancing chargers and with sabres rattling at 
 their sides, swept around the turn in the road, 
 dashed through the village, and drawing rein at 
 Squire Williams' store, dismounted and loudly de- 
 manded feed for their horses. 
 
 As soon as Walter Bentley saw the troopers rid- 
 ing by he divined their mission, and fearing that his 
 brother might possibly have returned, he dropped 
 everything and took the way across the fields o'er 
 which he had trod the day before. His hasty de- 
 parture was noticed by Henry Williams, who at 
 once repaired to the barn where the officers were 
 attending to the wants of their tired animals, and 
 reported to them that a younger brother was al- 
 ready on the way to warn the deserter of their ap- 
 proach. 
 
 They at once placed the bit in their horses' 
 mouths, grasped the reins, hastily mounted, and 
 dashed up the road to capture if possible the young 
 traitor, as they called him. Walter was doing some 
 of his best sprinting to cross the road and reach 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED, 223 
 
 the protection of the forest ere the horsemen inter- 
 cepted him, but he soon found it would be impos- 
 sible for him to do so, and in his extremity, he was 
 obliged to turn and make a bee-line for home. 
 
 *The troopers dismounted, entered the field 
 and made an attempt to catch the fleeing boy. 
 They threatened to fire if he did not halt, but this 
 only added renewed speed to the flying fofm. He 
 soon out-distanced them, and they were obliged to 
 give up the pursuit. The terrorized boy reached 
 his father's door step faint with exhaustion. 
 
 Walter's father coming to the house at this crit- 
 ical juncture, and learning from the almost breath- 
 less lad the cause of his wild flight and disturbed 
 condition of mind, became much excited, for he was 
 a man of quick temper and strong determination, 
 and although he was always of a strong Union 
 propensity, his indignation had reached so high a 
 pitch by his son's recital, that he deliberately took 
 down from its place on the wall his old trusty rifle, 
 and ramming down a charge of powder and ball, 
 shouldered it and walked out the road to Squire 
 Williams' grocery store. 
 
 Here he found the Provost and his men, who 
 
 *An actual occurrence. 
 
224 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 had returned from their chase of Walter and were 
 now enjoying a lunch of cheese and crackers, which 
 they washed down with repeated draughts of 
 whisky from a bottle standing upon the counter 
 near them. 
 
 Henry Williams, who was in the store, observ- 
 ing the approach of Farmer Bentley with his gun, 
 knew that trouble was coming for somebody. He 
 himself was not sure but the old gentleman knew 
 of his conduct towards his son while he was in the 
 army although he had always been civil enough, 
 but Henry did not know how it might be, if the 
 Bentley spirit was aroused. He deemed it best to 
 absent himself just then for fear of an altercation 
 between his neighbor and the officer; so without 
 any remark he quietly slipped out. 
 
 Farmer Bentley entered the store and at once 
 recognized in the Provost Marshal a character 
 whom he had ofttimes found loafing about the 
 Court House at the county seat, picking up odd 
 jobs and always seemed to be more or less under 
 the influence of strong drink. 
 
 The ire of the farmer was aroused at the sight 
 of the man, for he always had a contempt for what 
 he termed "the Court House loafer." So in a 
 voice tremulous with anger, he addressed him. 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 22$ 
 
 "And you are the hound this great govern- 
 ment sends out to hunt up your superiors?" 
 
 The officer who was already beginning to feel 
 the effects of the liquor he had drank, slid down 
 from the counter, upon which he had been sitting, 
 his face a bright scarlet from the combined effects 
 of anger and his many potations, and in a voice 
 husky with rage fairly shouted : 
 
 "Who are you that dares address an officer of 
 the government in this manner?" 
 
 "I am John Bentley, sir, and never debased 
 myself so much as I do now, in addressing you." 
 
 "Ho ! ho !" said the Provost. "So you are the 
 father of the deserter, and the young traitor we 
 chased a short time ago? I believe the whole 
 squad of you are rebel sympathizers, and I have half 
 a mind to place you under arrest." And as he said 
 this, he swaggered up to the aged man and leered 
 insolently into his face. 
 
 Quick as a flash the farmer's open hand landed 
 upon the officer's mouth, drawing a trace of blood. 
 The officer sprang back, drew his sword, and made 
 a lunge at his opponent's breast who quickly par- 
 ried it, and was about to charge wi*h clubbed rifle 
 upon the Provost, when his two con.-panions, see- 
 
226 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 ing the dilemma into which their officer had fallen, 
 immediately rushed to his rescue, threw themselves 
 upon Farmer Bentley, and bore him to the floor 
 where they disarmed him of the weapon, though 
 not without a struggle. 
 
 Hearing the confusion in the store room, Squire 
 Williams rushed in just in time to prevent the now 
 furious officer from throwing himself upon the 
 unarmed and prostrate farmer. 
 
 The angry official turned upon the Squire and 
 in his blind passion would have made an assault 
 upon him, had not a number of patrons entered the 
 store at this critical moment and seeing the state of 
 affairs, a part of them proceeded to place them- 
 selves in front of the Squire, while several went to 
 the side of Mr. Bentley and assisted him to rise. 
 Explanations followed to the satisfaction of the 
 Squire ; but not so with Farmer Bentley. 
 
 He felt far from being vanquished and wished 
 to challenge the officer to a test with weapons, or 
 without them. But the counsel of his neighbors 
 prevailed, and picking up his rifle, he left the store, 
 not deigning to bestow even a glance towards his 
 opponent. 
 
 The Provost and his associates soon left to loojc 
 up the deserter. Quite an extended search was 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 22/ 
 
 made by the officer and his men ; houses through- 
 out the neighborhood were ransacked from cellar 
 to attic, * feather beds were thrown upon the floor 
 and trampled upon, in the vain hope of finding the 
 object of their search. Barns and out-houses were 
 not forgotten, but all in vain. One house alone 
 escaped their examination, and that was the Bent- 
 ley homestead. Perhaps the officer deemed it 
 hardly prudent to do so, but the prize they looked 
 for had eluded them. So after a fruitless search of 
 almost the entire neighborhood, it was with con- 
 siderable chagrin they took their apparent depart- 
 ure, riding away with a great show of braggadocia 
 and indifference. But this was all for effect. 
 There rankled in the breast of the Provost Marshal 
 a desire for revenge. 
 
 The attack of Farmer Bentley upon those sent 
 out to hunt up his son Andrew proved in the end 
 to be disastrous, for the officer in charge, feeling 
 that his quarry had escaped him, and to satisfy the 
 feeling aroused in him against the deserter's father, 
 after fortifying himself from the contents of a black 
 bottle he carried with him, he ordered a halt. 
 
 Then declaring to his companions that he did 
 
 *An actual occurrence. 
 
228 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 not purpose to return without some trophy of the 
 chase, he bade them follow him, and striking spurs 
 into the sides of their steeds, they galloped back to 
 the home of Farmer Bentley. 
 
 The old gentleman and his companion had just 
 completed their noon-day meal, Walter had gone 
 to a neighbor's upon an errand, and the aged cou- 
 ple were congratulating themselves upon the de- 
 parture of the Provost Marshal and his men, when 
 a clattering of horses hoof's were heard, soon fol- 
 lowed by loud voices at the door, and ere they 
 could arise to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, 
 the door was rudely swung ajar, and in walked the 
 three men whose departure they had just been re- 
 joicing over. 
 
 Farmer Bentley hastily arose and in an indig- 
 nant tone demanded, "Why this intrusion?" 
 
 The Provost, with a great show of bravado 
 drew his sword and insolently declared the aged 
 man under arrest. 
 
 "Your contemptible declaration does not make 
 it so !" replied Farmer Bentley hotly. 
 
 The valiant officer remembering his former ex 
 perience with the man who now confronted him 
 and being just sober enodgh to keep out of danger, 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 22g 
 
 ordered his sergeant to place Farmer Bentley un- 
 der arrest. 
 
 That official obeying the command of his su- 
 perior, stepped forward and laid his hand upon the 
 shoulder of the farmer, when to his sudden surprise 
 he received a stinging blow upon the temple, which 
 sent him to the floor in an unconscious condition. 
 
 Quick as a flash the Provost drew his pistol, and 
 we cannot predict what the result might have been 
 had not at that moment Judge Preston appeared 
 in the door way. 
 
 The scene that confronted him caused him to 
 pause in surprise. There stood the aged father 
 with clenched hands, his silvery hair falling in ring- 
 lets from his broad forehead, his face pale with sup- 
 pressed anger, while from his steel blue eyes there 
 flashed a dangerous light. 
 
 At his feet lay the burly sergeant, whose head 
 had come in contact with the clenched fist of the 
 irate farmer. The Provost stood with pistol in 
 hand ready to fire, while a little in the rear stood 
 the cavalry trooper apparently in doubt whether to 
 interfere with his superior or not. 
 
 "What does this mean?" said the Judge, taking 
 it all in at a glance, and addressing the Provost. 
 
 The officer lowered his weapon, and turning 
 
23O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 toward the Judge, he politely bowed and curtly 
 remarked: "Mr. Bentley has already twice at- 
 tempted to interfere with Government officers in 
 the discharge of their duty, and we were about to 
 teach him a wholesome lesson." 
 
 "But I cannot see the necessity for the use of 
 deadly weapons/' replied. the Judge with feeling. 
 "Surely you don't mean to make an assault upon a 
 defenseless man? Three against one, and with 
 fire -arms is hardly fair," and the Judge found his 
 choler rising. 
 
 The officer mumbled some reply and placing 
 his pistol back in his pocket, said he hoped that Mr. 
 Bentley would give them no occasion to use vio- 
 lence. 
 
 "But what is required of my neighbor?" said 
 the Judge testily, whose Scotch blood was up, and 
 he felt he could not allow his old friend to suffer 
 any indignity from officers and soldiers in the dis- 
 charge of what they pleased to term their duty. 
 
 "Judge Preston," replied the officer, "we pro- 
 pose to take this man with us," pointing to Farmer 
 Bentley. "He has placed himself amenable to mil- 
 itary law by his unwarrantable attack upon us the 
 other day, and again to-day in resisting an arrest." 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 23 1 
 
 And he pointed to the sergeant upon the floor, who 
 was showing signs of returning consciousness. 
 
 "Too bad! Too bad!" said the Judge. "But 
 why drag the man away from his home? I will 
 gladly go his security for any amount." 
 
 "Sorry we cannot accommodate you," said the 
 officer, "but Mr. Bentley must go with us and ans- 
 wer to a higher authority." 
 
 "Surely you don't mean to tear this old man 
 away from his family in this manner? Mr. Bent- 
 ley is, and always has been a staunch Union man, 
 and what he may have done is only through excite- 
 ment. Can you not forego his arrest at this time?" 
 
 But the officer was stubborn and would not 
 yield. He would only allow sufficient time to se- 
 cure a conveyance; for the long distance, and age 
 of Farmer Bentley, would not permit the warm- 
 hearted Judge to think of his old neighbor walking, 
 although the brutal officer determined to make his 
 man walk, rather than return without some show 
 of the chase. 
 
 Farmer Bentley had remained silent during the 
 controversy. His temper had cooled somewhat, 
 and when the Judge approached him he was ready 
 
232 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 to confer with him, for he knew him to be always a 
 warm, true friend. 
 
 It was decided he should go with the Provost, 
 the Judge agreeing to accompany him, and see 
 what could be done for his neighbor at the county 
 seat. 
 
 So Farmer Bentley's hired man was called and 
 ordered to prepare the horses and the old family 
 carriage for the journey. In a short time it was an- 
 nounced that everything was ready, and the ser- 
 geant having recovered his senses by this time, the 
 officer and his men were in the saddle waiting. 
 
 Farmer Bentley had not been absent from his 
 aged companion for many years, and he felt that 
 his going would be a severe blow to her, but she 
 bore up bravely, although there was a perceptible 
 moisture in her eyes and a tremor in her voice as 
 she bade him good-bye. 
 
 Walter had insisted on driving th& carriage, but 
 this would leave no one at home with his mother, 
 so he was obliged to relinquish in favor of the hired 
 man. 
 
 The cavalcade moved off with Judge Preston 
 and Farmer Bentley in the carriage, the Provost 
 riding a few rods in advance, while the sergeant 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 233 
 
 and cavalry trooper brought up the rear, in the 
 form of a guard. 
 
 The sergeant was in a sulky mood and rode 
 along in silence. However, his companion could 
 not resist the opportunity to twit him, asking him 
 "How hard Farmer Bentley's fist felt as it rested on 
 his cranium?" And "whether he had made up his 
 mind upon which he would wear, his forage cap, 
 his natural head or the bump, lately raised upon it?" 
 To which the sergeant made some angry reply, well 
 interspersed with profanity. The journey was 
 long and tiresome, but in due time they arrived at 
 their destination. 
 
 The Provost with the spirit characteristic of the 
 man, wished to carry his prisoner to the confines 
 of the public jail, but to this, Judge Preston would 
 not consent. His aged friend should not suffer 
 such indignity if he could prevent it. He declared 
 he would accompany his friend if he were forced to 
 enter the jail. So after thinking the matter over, 
 the Provost officer decided to lodge Mr. Bentley 
 with the Sheriff, taking the Judge's recognizance 
 for his good behavior. 
 
 The Judge went at once to hunt up General 
 White, whom he learned was at home for a time, 
 recovering from a wound he had received in battle. 
 
234 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 His object was to have the General use his influence 
 for the release of his old friend. But the Judge 
 was doomed to disappointment, for when he 
 reached the General's residence, he learned with re- 
 gret that the soldier had returned to the seat of war 
 a few days before. However, not discouraged, he 
 directed his steps toward the office of Major Cribbs, 
 who was in command of that Military District. 
 
 The Judge knew him to be a kind and obliging 
 officer. He was pleased to find the Major in, and 
 at once related to him the whole circumstance 
 leading to the arrest of his neighbor. He urged 
 on the commandant to consider the years of his 
 friend and to treat him as kindly as possible. The 
 Major promised to do all he could for Mr. Bentley, 
 though he said it might be sometime before the 
 matter would come up as the Marshal had first to 
 make his report, and then if it was thought neces- 
 sary a military court might be called to try the case. 
 
 The Judge finding he could not do much more 
 to befriend his neighbor, called upon him at the 
 sheriff's office and related to him what he had done. 
 
 He bade his old friend to be of good cheer for 
 he would do all in his power for his release, then 
 bidding him good-bye, he took his journey home- 
 ward. 
 
INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 23$ 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 
 
 HE news of Farmer Bentley 's arrest by 
 the Provost Marshal and his minions 
 and their carrying him off to the county 
 seat, caused quite a stir in the com- 
 munity and not a few were the harsh things said 
 about the officials, for though they were all loyal, 
 Union loving people, they had great regard for the 
 entire Bentley family, and could not endorse any 
 ill treatment of them. 
 
 Some of the younger element who had learned 
 something of Henry Williams' cowardice while in 
 the army, and believing him to be instrumental in 
 having the Provost and his guard come to hunt 
 down Andrew Bentley, now turned upon that 
 worthy gentleman and there were grave fears that 
 the thing would end up with an application of "tar 
 and feathers." But older counsel prevailed. 
 However, the title of his army days was revived and 
 kept up with vigor for a long time. All the while, 
 
236 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Henry kept close to his father's house, never going 
 out much at night. 
 
 In a short time, a petition was widely circulated 
 and signed, praying for the release of John M. 
 
 Bentley, of N , now in the custody of the 
 
 military authorities at G . 
 
 This was sent off to the Governor at H , 
 
 and it was hoped that favorable news would soon 
 come from that direction. 
 
 This reaching the Executive Chamber at a time 
 when the Governor was out of town, the paper was 
 placed on file, where like many other documents, 
 before and since, it was allowed to remain appar- 
 ently forgotten. Judge Preston had made re- 
 peated visits to the county seat, but each time 
 failed to receive anything encouraging for his 
 waiting friend on whom the situation, while really 
 not a confinement, was having its effect. 
 
 At home the anxiety for the release of the hus- 
 band and father increased. They had received a 
 letter from Andrew, and written a reply, but had 
 mentioned nothing of the trouble that had befallen 
 them. 
 
 No court of inquiry had yet been convened and 
 a fortnight had already passed, and Walter could 
 
INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 237 
 
 not fail to see that the suspense was wearing upon 
 his loved mother. 
 
 "Something must be done," said the lad in an 
 emphatic manner, coming in one morning. 
 "Father must be released at any cost." 
 
 "What can be done, my son?" said the aged 
 mother. "I'm sure our kind neighbor, Judge 
 Preston, has done all that any one could do to bring 
 your father back to us." 
 
 But Walter had a plan he had revealed to no 
 one. Persuading his mother to make a short visit 
 to a relative living in an adjoining county, he has- 
 tened to prepare himself for a journey. He first 
 visited the county seat and secured a petition hav- 
 ing the signatures of all men of prominence there, 
 for many of them knew Walter's father personally. 
 
 This paper set forth the qualities of the Bent- 
 ley's as true loving Union people, and praying for 
 the return of Mr. Bentley to his family. Walter 
 called upon his father and held a short conversa- 
 tion with him, but did not say a word about the 
 petition or what he intended to do. After pass- 
 ing an hour or two with his parent, he bade him 
 good-bye, saying that he hoped to have a pleasant 
 surprise for him before long. 
 
 The boy went out and made his way to the rail- 
 
238 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 way station where he purchased a ticket for Wash- 
 ington, for Walter had a plan before him to visit 
 the Secretary of War in his father's behalf. 
 
 The fare being considerable, the boy after an 
 examination of his remaining funds, found he 
 would not have much money to spend outside of 
 his return ticket. But had he not said that his father 
 must be released at any cost? And the brave boy 
 was willing to make any sacrifice in his father's be- 
 half. 
 
 The express soon drew up at the station, and 
 Walter taking passage aboard, found himself being 
 carried rapidly toward the capitol city of the nation. 
 Arriving at his destination at the close of day, the 
 boy felt that he could not afford to go to a hotel, so 
 he sought less expensive accommodations for the 
 night. 
 
 Next morning he was up bright and early. He 
 made a few inquiries at the place where he ate his 
 breakfast, and there learned that he could not gain 
 an admittance to any of the public buildings until 
 after nine o'clock. He therefore contented him- 
 self with walking up to the capitol building and 
 taking a view of its massive exterior, but as soon as 
 the clocks in the city pealed out the hour of nine, he 
 hastened to the War "Department building and 
 
INTERVIEW WITH PRESIDENT LINCOLN. 239 
 
 sought an interview with the Secretary, to whom 
 he presented the petition he had with him. 
 
 The Secretary closely examined the paper and 
 turning to the boy, kindly asked him to relate the 
 facts incident to his father's arrest, which Walter 
 did in a straightforward manner, omitting noth- 
 ing. The Secretary smiled pleasantly on the lad 
 for he could not help but admire his spirit. 
 
 He took the petition, made a few notes on the 
 back of it and handed it over to a clerk, sitting at a 
 desk near by, then turning to Walter said, "Well, 
 my boy, we will attend to this matter in a few days." 
 
 "A few days?" gasped the lad. "Can't you do 
 it now?" The poor boy had so fondly anticipated 
 carrying back with him his father's release, and he 
 had not come to Washington prepared to make a 
 stay of even a few days. 
 
 The Secretary looked up with an amused ex- 
 pression on his grave face. "Yes, my boy, I said 
 a few days. Do you think the business of this 
 great government is fully up to date?" 
 
 "Yes, but this is only a small matter," replied 
 the boy. "I am not prepared to stay and await 
 your decision," and he felt the red come and go in 
 his face. 
 
 "It is not necessary for you to remain," said the 
 
24O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Secretary in a kindly tone, for he saw that the boy 
 had met with a disappointment. "I will attend to 
 this in due time, never fear," and with this he 
 turned to his stenographer and began dictating a 
 letter. 
 
 Walter thanked the Secretary for the audience 
 he had given him and bowed himself out, but it was 
 with a heavy heart that he took his way down the 
 avenue In the exuberance of his youthful spirit, 
 he had pictured himself returning to his home car- 
 rying with him the paper that would give freedom 
 to his aged father. 
 
 After leaving the War and Navy building, he 
 could not fail to notice on his right, standing in 
 among the trees, a fine spacious building having a 
 beautiful green lawn in front reaching down to 
 the street. Noticing the entrance to the grounds 
 being open and apparently inviting one to enter, 
 the boy did so, and slowly walked up the drive-way 
 leading to the building. 
 
 Walter was pleased to see that everything about 
 the place bore evidence of having the greatest care 
 and attention. The lawn being well covered with 
 grass and kept closely mowed. 
 
 The drive-way appeared as though it had been 
 lately swept and everything about the place evinced 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 24! 
 
 the care and attention bestowed upon it. While 
 he was drinking in the beauty of his surroundings, 
 he noticed a tall angular man come down the steps, 
 that led up to the building. He had by his side a 
 small boy who held his hand as they walked. 
 Walter was singularly attracted by the appearance 
 of the man coming towards him. 
 
 He felt sure he had met this man somewhere 
 before, for his face seemed familiar. It was not 
 what one would call a handsome face, but there 
 was that about it that seemed to impel you to take 
 a second look. The gentleman approaching him 
 was not showily dressed, but an air of neatness per- 
 vaded his whole attire. His long coat and high 
 silk hat made him appear to the eyes of the won- 
 dering boy, as the tallest man he had ever seen. 
 
 The little lad walking by the gentleman's side 
 appeared to be of a delicate build, not rugged nor 
 possessing the romping spirit usual with boys of his 
 age. He walked along quietly by his father's side,, 
 holding his hand while the tall man would fre- 
 quently speak to him, and look down with an earn- 
 est solicitude upon the boy at his side. 
 
 Walter at first felt like avoiding the couple ad- 
 vancing towards him, but no opportunity present- 
 ing itself, he stood his ground, and as they ap- 
 
 16 
 
242 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 preached, he politely lifted his cap and inquired of 
 the tall man if he would be kind enough to tell him 
 the name of the building before him. 
 
 The gentleman paused and with a smile light- 
 ing up his care worn face, kindly replied, "That, my 
 lad, is what many people call the White House." 
 
 "Oh!" interjected Walter, in breathless aston- 
 ishment, for all of a sudden he realized he was 
 standing in the presence of a man, upon whose ac- 
 tions at that time, the eyes of the whole civilized 
 world were fixed with intense interest. Yes, he 
 was face to face with Abraham Lincoln, President 
 of the United States. 
 
 Now he recalled why the man's face had seemed 
 so familiar ; he had ofttimes studied that same face 
 in his father's home, for was not his bed room 
 adorned with a picture of this same great man? 
 
 "You seem to be a stranger in the city, my 
 boy?" And again the grave face of the man be- 
 fore him lit up with a smile, for it was refreshing 
 to the President to meet a face like that of Walter's 
 in which the lines of cunning deception had not 
 been drawn. 
 
 He saw in the lad before him a counterpart of 
 himself years ago, when he was a country boy 
 learning his first lesson of life's hardships away out 
 
Q 3 Q I, 
 
 an QQ 
 
 > . i "" _ ~ 
 
 " You seem to tc a stran ;er in the city, my boy ?" 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 245 
 
 in the wilds of Indiana. And as he looked upon 
 the young man before him, his heart was irresistibly 
 drawn toward this young stranger, who did not 
 seem to know much of the city. 
 
 Walter blushed and in reply to the President's 
 inquiry modestly stated that he had arrived in 
 Washington only the day before. 
 
 "And may I ask if you are here visiting the city 
 as a sight-seer, and are you alone?" 
 
 The boy felt that the man before him had a 
 right to ask anything, and an undisputed right to 
 a reply. So he stated that he was alone, and upon 
 a matter of business that concerned him very much. 
 
 Walter really doubted the propriety of relating 
 his troubles to the great President of the United 
 States, but then he had read that Abraham Lincoln 
 was a warm-hearted man, and of kindly impulse 
 towards those in trouble. 
 
 The President's face now took upon it a look of 
 fatherly interest, and in a voice, the tone of which 
 was musical and full of feeling, he proceeded to 
 further interrogate the boy and soon drew from 
 Walter the entire story of his brother's desertion, 
 and his return to the army by advice of his father ; 
 the coming of the Provost and his father's impru- 
 dent attack upon them ; his arrest and detention at 
 
246 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 the county seat ; their seeming inability to have him 
 released; then of the journey to Washington to see 
 the Secretary, and the presenting of the petition he 
 carried to him. 
 
 "And what did Stanton say?" interrogated the 
 President, who had all the while been an attentive 
 listener. 
 
 "He said he would give it his attention in a few 
 days," replied Walter. "But I cannot afford to re- 
 main any length of time waiting, and I had so 
 fondly hoped to carry back with me a release for my 
 father." 
 
 "You say that by advice of your father, your 
 brother returned to the army?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the wondering boy. 
 
 The President mused for a few moments, then 
 repeated as though to himself, "Surely a father who 
 would advise the return of his son to the army can- 
 not be considered as being disloyal to his country." 
 Turning to the lad, he said, "Come with me ; the 
 boy who is willing to make so long a journey in be- 
 half of a helpless parent, should not return without 
 a reward." And he led the way back to the 
 White House, ascending the steps and pointing to 
 a room on the left, bade Walter enter and amuse 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 247 
 
 himself until his return. Then leaving him, he 
 made his way to his private office. 
 
 Walter entered the spacious room indicated, 
 and was lost in amazement. He had never been in 
 a room before so large, and so luxuriosly furnished, 
 everything seemed to be in such perfect harmony 
 of color, sky-blue walls, ceiling, carpet, and even 
 furniture all seemed to blend together. 
 
 The boy felt that he dared hardly tread upon 
 the rich carpet, and to sit down upon one of the 
 richly upholstered sofas, Oh, no! he dared not 
 think of attempting it. 
 
 While he stood cap in hand, taking a survey of 
 the room, and its rich furnishings, he was awak- 
 ened from the spell which had come over him by 
 the return of the President, who handed him a 
 neatly folded paper, telling him "he might now re- 
 turn home and present the document to the officer 
 in charge of that Military District, saying it was 
 with the 'Compliments of Abraham Lincoln.' ' 
 Tears of joy and gratitude welled up in Walter's 
 eyes, for he realized he held in his hand his father's 
 pardon, signed by the President of the United 
 States. 
 
 With a quivering voice, he thanked the great 
 
248 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 man before him who now seemed to Walter to loom 
 up taller than ever. 
 
 "Never mind, my boy," said the President, "al- 
 ways be faithful and true to your parents while they 
 live, and you will never lose by it." And with 
 this he extended him a large, bony hand whjch 
 though strong and sinewy, seemed to the grateful 
 boy to have a touch like unto velvet. 
 
 "Good-bye, my brave little man ; remember that 
 when you want anything that no one else has time 
 to attend to, don't fail to call upon Abraham Lin- 
 coln," and with a quaint smile over-spreading his 
 face, he accompanied the now happy Walter to the 
 door and bowed him out. 
 
 The lad sped back to the railway depot with a 
 heart throbbing with joy. He had no time to take 
 in the sights of a great city, though they were many 
 and quite tempting. 
 
 He found the express for the West ready to 
 start in half an hour; just enough time for him to 
 purchase a ticket and gulp down a sandwich and a 
 cup of coffee at the lunch counter. 
 
 After boarding the train, he found time to ex- 
 amine his precious document. So carefully un- 
 folding it, he gazed long and earnestly upon its 
 contents. He could scarcely believe his senses, 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 249 
 
 but there it was and no mistake. A full and com- 
 plete pardon of all charges made against John M. 
 Bentley, of N , Pa., and signed, too, by Abra- 
 ham Lincoln. Oh, how he wished he could keep 
 that paper just to show the signature to the boys in 
 the village of N . 
 
 He was so absorbed in looking at the precious 
 paper before him, that he failed to notice the ap- 
 proach of the conductor, until that worthy shook 
 him by the shoulder and said sharply, "Tickets!" 
 Then Walter was brought back to his present sur- 
 roundings and hastily searched every pocket but 
 the right one ; at last to his great relief, he found the 
 required piece of pasteboard, which he handed to 
 the "Knight of the Punch," who appeared to be 
 enjoying the lad's confusion. 
 
 The train seemed to Walter to crawl along at a 
 snail's pace, so impatient was he to reach his home, 
 
 but at last it arrived at G (the county seat) 
 
 about midnight, and Walter, hunting up a place to 
 spend the balance of the night, after first making 
 sure that his paper was still safe in his pocket, with- 
 out disrobing threw himself across the bed and 
 soon sank into a heavy slumber, for the boy's 
 nerves had been at a high tension for the past two 
 days. The tired lad slept soundly, but with the 
 
ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 coming of morning was astir, and after securing a 
 breakfast, he waited impatiently for the hour when 
 he might find the military official in his office. It 
 came at last, and it was with no little degree of pride 
 that he waited upon that officer and presented his 
 paper. -\ 
 
 Major Cribbs adjusted his glasses and pro- 
 ceeded to peruse the document. "Bless my stars, 
 boy, but you are a trump !" he exclaimed as he read 
 the signature. "And did you get this paper your- 
 self?" 
 
 Walter answered in the affirmative, and the 
 officer turning, grasped him heartily by the hand, 
 saying he was mighty glad to see a boy with such 
 a spirit. 
 
 He at once ordered the release of Mr. Bentley, 
 and we need not say the meeting of father and son 
 was a joyful one. 
 
 "So this is the surprise you promised me, my 
 son?" said the proud father. "Well, you have 
 shown what a determined spirit may be able to do, 
 and you surely have a father's gratitude." 
 
 Together they journeyed homeward, and the 
 return of father and son was a joyful surprise to the 
 aged mother. Truly there was a great time of re- 
 joicing in the Bentley homestead. Judge Preston 
 
AN ARREST FRUSTRATED. 251 
 
 xame over to compliment Walter upon the success 
 of his mission for he had learned of his securing the 
 petition at the county seat. 
 
 The news of Walter's adventure getting abroad, 
 he was for a time the hero of the village, and many 
 were the interviews sought of him by young and 
 old, to learn just how the President looked and how 
 he talked, and what Walter thought of the White 
 House. And thus he had to tell the story over and 
 over again, while the boy did his best to impress 
 upon his auditors that the man who occupied the 
 White House was a very worthy occupant for such 
 a pretentious edifice. 
 
252 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AGAIN A SOLDIER-VILLAINY OF WILLIAMS. 
 
 ET us now see how it has been faring 
 
 w **k t ^ ie k ero * our stor y* 
 
 Andrew Bentley, after taking leave of 
 his brother Walter on the morning re- 
 ferred to, set his face resolutely in the direction of 
 the railway. His blood burned in his veins with 
 resentment. To be hunted down like a wild ani- 
 mal was a very bitter reflection. He avoided the 
 highways as much as possible. He felt depressed 
 in spirit, for was he not being forced away without 
 a farewell blessing from father and mother, and 
 then he had failed to get even a line from Annie. 
 
 But his mind was made up, he would be a ref- 
 ugee no longer. He never doubted his love for the 
 flag of his country. It was still dear to him, but he 
 would serve under it of his own voluntary choice, 
 and prove his loyalty to his country's cause. 
 
 His aim was to strike the railroad at a station 
 some distance from N . Noon-time arriv- 
 ing, he managed to secure his dinner at a farm 
 
AGAIN A SOLDIER VILLAINY OF WILLIAMS. 253 
 
 house by the way, then trudged slowly on, and by 
 nightfall he found himself nearing a way-station 
 many miles distant from N . 
 
 This was a coaling station, and Andrew knew 
 that trains both eastward and westward bound 
 stopped at this place for coal, and would thus afford 
 him a good opportunity to get on board. 
 
 He had not long to wait, for in the distance his 
 quick ear caught the sound of an approaching 
 train. Soon the whistle sounded down brakes, and 
 in a few moments the east-bound express drew up, 
 stopped, and proceeded to take coal. This was 
 Andrew's opportunity and he quickly swung him- 
 self up the steps and entered the car. 
 
 Travel being heavy, the car was crowded, and 
 it was with some difficulty Andrew could secure a 
 seat. At last finding one, he sank down wearily 
 into it and awaited the coming of the conductor. 
 That necessary contingent to all passenger railway 
 trains put in an appearance and our weary traveler 
 not having a ticket, handed him a bank-note, 
 quietly remarking, "One fare to Philadelphia." 
 The necessary change was returned to him and the 
 collector of fares, after giving him a close scrutiny, 
 moved on. 
 
 Andrew left to himself, settled down in his seat 
 
254 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 to ruminate over the events of the past few weeks. 
 He felt that he had made a mistake in leaving the 
 ranks, but yet he did not have a feeling of regret, 
 for now he was about to enter upon an entire dif- 
 ferent service from that which he had left behind 
 so unceremoniously on that May day in the Wil- 
 derness. 
 
 He had his mind made up what he would do 
 upon reaching the city towards which he was fast 
 hastening. 
 
 Everybody in N by this time felt con- 
 vinced that Andrew Bentley had not been lost on 
 the battlefield as they had believed, but that he had 
 returned home without permission was quite evi- 
 dent, else why this visit of the Provost and his men. 
 That they had failed to secure him was a source of 
 much satisfaction to many of his friends. But of 
 his whereabouts they were at a loss to know. 
 
 Henry Williams was still at work in his father's 
 store. He did not mingle much in society, for he 
 felt that his attitude towards the Bentley' s did not 
 meet the approval of the community, although his 
 dastardly attempts in two instances to do Andrew 
 Bentley violence had never been exposed, Andrew 
 deeming it better not to inform any of the folks at 
 home of Henry's conduct towards him. 
 
AGAIN A SOLDIER VILLAINY OF WILLIAMS. 2$$ 
 
 The war spirit was still in the ascendency, and 
 nearly all of the male members of the Academy of 
 N having reached the proper age, had en- 
 listed and gone to the front, and it was now no un- 
 usual thing to find at an evening gathering of the 
 young folks, that those of the gentler sex far out- 
 numbered those of the sterner sort. 
 
 So Henry Williams was practically what the 
 youth of the village dubbed him, 'The Home 
 Guard," but he preferred to endure all the epithets 
 they might hurl at him in preference to a soldier's 
 life. His army experience was far from being a 
 pleasant remembrance. 
 
 He felt that fortune had not favored him. His 
 desire to possess the hand of the fair Annie Pres- 
 ton grew with every attempt to interview her. 
 Had his valor as a soldier proven as great as that of 
 a lover, Henry Williams would not have suffered 
 for renown upon the field of fame. Although 
 Henry had met with almost absolute defeat, he 
 still held tenaciously to the thought that some day 
 her heart might soften towards him, and more es- 
 pecially now, since his rival, Andrew Bentley, was 
 under a cloud. 
 
 How fortunate he thought it was that he had 
 witnessed Andrew's return and learned that he was 
 
256 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 a deserter from the ranks. It had placed him in his 
 power, and he mentally resolved he would be upon 
 the lookout should the deserter again return, for 
 Henry was in total ignorance of Andrew's move- 
 ments and so far as the rest of the Bentley family 
 was concerned, they maintained a feeling of reserve 
 towards the family of Squire Williams. 
 
 In August of this year, Captain George Coulter 
 and Lieutenant Alpheus Forrest came home on a 
 veteran furlough. Their time of service having ex- 
 pired, both had re-enlisted and were now proudly 
 wearing their veteran stripes. 
 
 Truly they were the lions of the day, and were 
 petted and made of, to their heart's content. 
 
 But while the young patriots were being lion- 
 ized at home, what of Andrew Bentley? 
 
 The train on which he traveled landed him safe 
 in the city of "Brotherly love," and he had gone at 
 once to a restaurant to refresh the inner man. 
 Then next, to a tonsorial artist where he received a 
 shave and hair cut, which so much improved his 
 appearance that we doubt if he would have been 
 readily recognized by the loving Walter. Next he 
 hunted up a recruiting office, which soon being 
 found, he entered and in a short time was enrolled 
 under the name of James Bentley in Company M 
 
AGAIN A SOLDIER VILLAINY OF WILLIAMS. 257 
 
 of the nd Pennsylvania Cavalry. His full 
 
 name had been that of James Andrew, and as he 
 had formerly been enrolled as Andrew, he now con- 
 cluded he would try his fortunes under the cogno- 
 men of James. 
 
 Had Annie Preston been there, she would 
 surely have admired the handsome athletic young 
 soldier, who merged from the recruiting office clad 
 in his bright new cavalry uniform. 
 
 James, as we must now call him, was an entire 
 stranger in the city, but he did not have a long time 
 for sight seeing, for new recruits were being rap- 
 idly hurried on to the front, and soon he, with a 
 number of others, were sent forward to Camp 
 Stoneman near Annapolis, Md., this being a ren- 
 dezvous for dismounted cavalry men. 
 
 It was from this place our hero sent his first let- 
 ter home relating his experience. It was a wel- 
 come message to a sorrowing father and mother, as 
 well as a waiting brother. This letter did much 
 to cheer them and lighten the gloom that hung 
 over them ever since the boy's return home. 
 James also wrote a long letter to Annie Preston. 
 It was full of love and tenderness. He stated how 
 he had all the time felt a thralldom while serving as. 
 a drafted man ; that when he left the ranks it was. 
 
 17 
 
2$8 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 with no thought of really deserting his colors, but 
 one step had led to another. But now he was re- 
 tracing them, and his whole aim was to prove 
 worthy of his calling. He begged of her to over- 
 look his past indiscretion and allow him to hold his 
 place as of old in her affections. He entreated her 
 to write to him, if only a line, but to address him 
 as James instead of Andrew, that being the name 
 under which he was enrolled. He explained that 
 he had done this to avoid any trouble that might 
 arise from his old regiment, and as it was a part of 
 his surname, it was perfectly legal for him to do so. 
 Much else did our soldier boy write, which could 
 not help but find its way to Annie's heart. In due 
 time Annie received this missive of love, and as she 
 read it, she could not help but feel that she had 
 been a little harsh and perhaps too severe in her 
 criticism of her lover's actions. 
 
 James had enclosed a tin-type picture of himself 
 taken in his new cavalry uniform, upon which An- 
 nie gazed long and earnestly, each moment feeling 
 her heart warming with love and affection for the 
 honest manly face that looked out at her from the 
 picture. 
 
 The barriers of pride were swept away, and she 
 at once repaired to her room to write a long, lov- 
 
AGAIN A SOLDIER VILLAINY OF WILLIAMS. 259 
 
 ing reply to James, to assure him of her affection. 
 This letter was sent over to the post office at 
 
 N by the hired man, but sad to relate it went 
 
 no farther. 
 
 Henry Williams, doing most of the work in his 
 father's store, had been deputized to handle the 
 mail, so when he came to put up the evening mail, 
 he noticed the letter addressed to James Bentley 
 and recognizing Annie Preston's handwriting, in 
 the wickedness of his heart he concluded it would 
 be perfectly proper for him to look into its con- 
 tents, so instead of finding its w r ay into the mail- 
 sack, it found its way into Henry's pocket. 
 
 Mail came to Camp Stoneman for James Bent- 
 ley, but not the letter he so eagerly looked for. In 
 a few days, horses being received, the entire com- 
 mand was sent forward to join the regiment at the 
 front, and our hero once more found himself upon 
 Virginia soil. 
 
 James was at a loss to know why he had re- 
 ceived no letter from Annie Preston. He thought 
 it barely possible that his letter had gone astray, 
 and having changed camp, he concluded he would 
 write once again, so sitting down, he carefully 
 penned another long epistle to the only woman in 
 the world for him, pleading with her, that if he had 
 
26O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 lost his place in her heart, to at least pen him a word 
 of farewell. This he carried over to Brandy Sta- 
 tion and mailed it himself, not trusting it to go out 
 in the regimental mail. This letter, like Annie's, 
 
 did not pass beyond the N post office, for 
 
 when the mail came in that winter evening, the jeal- 
 ous eyes of Henry signaled it out and transferred 
 it to his own pocket, for he felt sure it was from his 
 old rival. 
 
 When Judge Preston returned home with the 
 mail that evening and threw it upon the center ta- 
 ble, Annie found none from her lover, which caused 
 her a pang of disappointment, for it was now some 
 weeks since she had written to him, and she was 
 sure he would have answered it ere this, if all had 
 been well. Thus she waited, each mail day, ex- 
 pecting a letter, and each time suffering disappoint- 
 ment, and so the winter days went by. 
 
 Henry Williams was obliged to admire Annie 
 at a distance for she never went to places 
 where she would likely meet him. She had a feel- 
 ing that he had played the part of a spy upon An- 
 drew when he came home, and her honorable soul 
 rose in indignation at the thought of it. She knew 
 he was base, but did not for a moment think he was 
 guilty of tampering with the mail, and the cause 
 
AGAIN A SOLDIER VILLAINY OF WILLIAMS. 26 1 
 
 of so much disappointment to her. Chance, how- 
 ever, threw them together one evening at a little 
 surprise party given to a worthy couple in the vil- 
 lage, and Henry thought it best to improve his op- 
 portunity. 
 
 He patiently waited until he found Annie alone, 
 and seating himself by her side tried to open up 
 a conversation. He began by asking if she would 
 not at least show him the courtesy of a neighbor. 
 
 She said she hoped she always had, but as her 
 time was much engaged, she could devote but lit- 
 tle to pleasure. 
 
 "Yes, I suppose," said Henry, "your corres- 
 pondence with the boys at the front must take a 
 good part of your time." 
 
 "Annie's face burned with this insult and she 
 replied hotly, "It would be more profitable to spend 
 all my time in writing letters to cheer our brave 
 soldiers than to waste one moment talking to a 
 'cowardly stay at-home/ " and rising she abruptly 
 left him. 
 
 It was Henry's turn to be angry and as he 
 looked after her he muttered under his breath, 
 "Write all you want to, but little good will it do 
 you." 
 
262 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Annie could not bear the suspense of her lover's 
 silence. She paid a visit to Farmer Bentley's, al- 
 though her visits of late had not been so frequent 
 but she wanted to learn something of her Andrew 
 (she best loved to call him by that name). She 
 found the father and mother had been receiving let- 
 ters from him regularly, that all had been going 
 well. The father stated with a ring of pride in his 
 voice that James had been made the "orderly ser- 
 geant" of his company and that he proposed stay- 
 ing till the close of the war. 
 
 Annie was much annoyed to think that letters 
 were passing regularly between James and his par- 
 ents, but no reply to hers. She, however, pro- 
 cured his address, hastened home and another let- 
 ter was written, this time not so long for she could 
 not think but that James must surely have received 
 her other letter, and hence we must excuse her for 
 feeling a bit piqued. 
 
 She mailed this letter with the prayer that it 
 might bring her back an answer, if only just a line. 
 Had she not been brought up with the highest 
 sense of honor, she might have had a suspicion that 
 all was not right in the office at home. The same 
 with James, he did not dream of any one daring to 
 intercept his letters. He had written again, but no 
 
AGAIN A SOLDIER VILLAINY OF WILLIAMS. 263 
 
 reply, and so it was that they both waited and 
 watched in vain. 
 
 Annie felt hurt; she had fully and freely for- 
 given her soldier boy lover, but his silence was kill- 
 ing her. She grew weary and hollow-eyed with 
 disappointment after disappointment, until at last 
 she lost interest in the coming of the mail. 
 
 She would occasionally hear through other 
 sources of the heroism and daring of James Bentley 
 for, failing to receive any news from Annie, James 
 grew indifferent to his surroundings. Naturally 
 brave and courageous, he became daring even to 
 recklessness. In the battle of Waynesborough, in 
 which his regiment was engaged, he personally 
 captured five infantrymen of an Alabama regi- 
 ment and brought them, unaided, into the Union 
 lines. For this act, he was made first lieutenant 
 of his company. Again when the attack was made 
 on Fort Steadman, March 25th, he won promi- 
 nence by boldly scaling the breastworks and snatch- 
 ing the Confederate colors from the flag staff, bear- 
 ing them off in triumph. 
 
 This won him the bars of a captain, and the pa- 
 pers at home as well as those abroad, spoke in glow- 
 ing terms of the daring young cavalry officer. 
 Annie heard all this in her home, and felt in her 
 
264 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 heart a secret joy that her once soldier lover was 
 gaining such renown. 
 
 "James Andrew Bentley is comin' out on top 
 after all," said old Cobbler King, who had watched 
 the movements of his favorite. This was said one 
 morning in Squire Williams' store. 
 
 "Yes," said the Squire, "it will likely be nip and 
 tuck betwixt him and our boy George. Well, I 
 don't envy either of them their honors ; they both 
 deserve it." 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 
 
 IEUTENANT Forrest and his comrade, 
 returned to the front at the expiration 
 of their furlough and, taking part in an 
 engagement which took place soon after 
 their return, the martial career of Alpheus was sud- 
 denly cut short by his receiving a serious wound in 
 the breast. 
 
 They deemed it best to send the young officer 
 direct home, as he would be thus insured more 
 careful nursing than would fall to his lot in the 
 crowded hospitals. So the wounded soldier was 
 soon back under his father's roof. But Alpheus 
 felt that he had only come home to die. 
 
 His wound while not painful, was daily sapping 
 his life blood. He lay quietly for hours during the 
 bright Autumnal days, looking out upon the fields 
 and meadows in which he had so often played when 
 a boy, and which he would never tread again. His 
 thoughts were no doubt dwelling far out on 
 
 "Sw,eet fields beyond the swelling flood, 
 All dressed in living green," 
 
266 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 For Alpheus had received the witness of the 
 Spirit and was only awaiting the call of the great 
 Commander. 
 
 It came at the close of a mild October day, and 
 the young soldier answered "ready," and went out 
 to that land where they know no war. 
 
 For the third time the quiet people of 
 N were called to mourn, and now they fol- 
 lowed in funeral procession to the burial ground 
 where they laid the body of the young martyr. 
 
 It was not long after the attack upon Fort 
 Steadman, and while Captain Bentley's daring act 
 of snatching the Confederate colors from the hands 
 of the apparent victors, was yet the talk of the 
 camp, that the Commander-in-Chief sat in council 
 with some of his officers. 
 
 They were discussing the best plan of making 
 a "coup-de-grace" upon the enemy's forces. 
 
 As their deliberations assumed shape, it was 
 evident that a trusty courier would be needed to 
 carry the plan agreed upon to Sheridan, who was 
 then in the neighborhood of Bermuda Hundred. 
 
 It was Grant's purpose to effect a coalition of 
 the force under the daring cavalry chieftain with 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 26/ 
 
 that of his own, and at once compel the evacuation 
 or surrender of Petersburg. 
 
 After all the details had been discussed the 
 question arose as to a trusty and reliable messen- 
 ger, to carry the message to Sheridan. 
 
 Various names were suggested but none seemed 
 practicable. 
 
 Looking up from the map which he had been 
 intently studying, and directing his attention to 
 General Warren, who formed one of the council, 
 Grant quietly said : "General, who is that young 
 cavalry officer that so distinguished himself at the 
 assault on Fort Steadman the other day, and of 
 whom I have been hearing such favorable reports 
 of late?" 
 
 "That is Captain Bentley, of Colonel Gray's 
 command," replied Warren, "and a fine, daring 
 young soldier he is," he added warmly. 
 
 "Think you he would be willing to carry a mes- 
 sage to Sheridan?" inquired Grant. 
 
 "I think Captain Bentley would be ready and 
 willing to undertake anything you might require 
 of him in the line of a soldier's duty," answered 
 General Warren. "His colonel tells me he has 
 never known him to shrink from a single responsi- 
 
268 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 bility since he joined his regiment, and I believe he 
 entered as a private. 
 
 A pleased smile lit up the grave face of the silent 
 chieftain, and he quietly remarked: "Gentlemen, 
 give me an army of soldiers and officers like that, 
 and I will end this rebellion to-morrow." 
 
 It was decided to send an orderly to the head- 
 quarters of the colonel of the , Penna. Cav- 
 alry, and ask him to have Captain Bentley, of his 
 regiment, to report at once to the comanding gen- 
 eral. 
 
 It had been an unusually warm day for so early 
 in the spring, and the evening was sultry. 
 
 Captain Bentley having just returned to camp 
 from a season of picket duty as officer of the guard, 
 was feeling somewhat worn and fatigued from his 
 long vigil. 
 
 He had thrown aside his uniform coat, loos- 
 ened his cravat, and was sitting within his tent 
 quietly enjoying the fragrance of his cigar, while 
 he examined his mail which lay upon the table be- 
 fore him, when he heard hasty steps approaching. 
 In a few minutes the flaps of his tent were parted, 
 and the familiar face of Colonel Gray appeared in 
 the opening. 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 269 
 
 "Hellow, Bentley ! I am glad to find you in ; T 
 have a particular request for you." 
 
 "Pray what is it?" responded Bentley, with an 
 inquiring look in his handsome eyes. 
 
 "Can't say," replied the officer. "All I know is 
 Grant has sent for you to report at once to his 
 headquarters." 
 
 "Grant!" ejaculated Captain Bentley in aston- 
 ishment. "Wonder what he can possibly want 
 with me?" 
 
 "I can't say," again reiterated the colonel ; "only 
 make haste, for 'taps' will soon be sounded. 
 Good night, Captain. May you have a pleasant 
 interview with the general," and with this Colonel 
 Gray took his departure. 
 
 Bentley at once donned his coat, buckled on his 
 sword belt, then extinguishing his light he quickly 
 made his way toward the headquarters of the 
 Commander-in-Chief, all the while his mind in a 
 quandary as to the import of the call, for he had 
 never before be summoned into the presence of 
 this great leader of men. 
 
 As he neared the locality he recognized the 
 place occupied by the General, it being a small 
 frame house with portico and yard in front, before 
 which a sentry paced restlessly up and down, while 
 
2/O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 on the portico stood a trooper of his own com- 
 mand who was acting then in the capacity of an or- 
 derly for the General. 
 
 Passing the sentry in the yard, Bentley ascended 
 the steps and inquired of the orderly where he 
 might find Grant. 
 
 The soldier led the way to a room on the right 
 of the hall, rapped lightly on the door, and at the 
 invitation to "Come in," opened it and with the 
 announcement of "Captain Bentley," quickly with- 
 drew, leaving the young officer with this simple in- 
 troduction, standing in the presence of the man 
 who at that time held in his hand the reins of abso- 
 lute control of all military power. Bentley gave 
 the military salute and stood at attention. 
 
 Grant raised his eyes from a map which he had 
 been closely examining, and in a quiet tone bade 
 him be seated, then resumed the study of the map 
 before him. 
 
 Bentley took a seat upon the opposite side of 
 the table and was now privileged to inspect at short 
 range the man whose name and fame was spread 
 broadcast over all the land. 
 
 He seemed to be only an ordinary man in gen- 
 eral appearance, no show of military pomp and 
 splendor, characteristic of many generals that 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 
 
 Bentley had seen in camp and on the field of ser- 
 vice. This man before him, at whose word of 
 command legions would move without question, 
 seemed unassuming in his manner and surely was 
 plain and simple in his dress. His head was bare, 
 and as it was slightly bent over the map, which lay 
 upon the table, Bentley could clearly discern the 
 perfect contour and formation of it, while, al- 
 though the face was partly hidden by a short red- 
 dish brown beard, he could still see the square for- 
 mation of the jaw, indicative of the strength and 
 decision of character that had characterized its 
 owner in all his movements. 
 
 In a few moments Grant quietly folded the pa- 
 per, looked up and with a pleasant smile, said as he 
 extended his hand across the table, "Captain Bent- 
 ley, I believe? I have heard favorably of you from 
 your superiors and have sent for you." 
 
 Bentley's heart throbbed with a feeling of hon- 
 est pride and gratification, such as he had never 
 known since his first entrance into the army, and in 
 the confusion for the moment that came over him, 
 he merely bowed his acknowledgement. 
 
 "Captain Bentley," continued Grant, not ap- 
 parently noticing the officer's embarrassment, "I 
 have a duty for a trusty messenger to perform, and 
 
272 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 as such we have selected you." It would be need- 
 less to say that the flush in Bentley's face height- 
 ened at this announcement. 
 
 "The information which you are asked to carry 
 is of vital importance, and should only be surren- 
 dered with life itself. Yes, I might add not even 
 then, for means should be taken to place it beyond 
 the reach of any who should not possess it," and 
 with this he placed upon the table four ordinary 
 cartridges, such as were then in use by the cavalry 
 who carried a repeating carbine in addition to their 
 sabre. 
 
 The General noticing the puzzled look upon 
 Captain Bentley's face, proceeded to explain. 
 "Two of these cartridges contain bullets hollowed 
 out, in which is placed a communication I desire 
 very much to be placed in the hands of General 
 Sheridan, now at Bermuda Hundred, with the 
 greatest possible dispatch. 
 
 "Part of the way will be through a section of 
 the country now infested with cut-throats and guer- 
 rillas, who will hesitate at nothing to accomplish 
 their ends, and who pay no respect to either the 
 Blue or the Gray, although their choice would be 
 to favor the Confederate army. 
 
 "I would suggest that in event of your capture 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 
 
 by any of these robbers that you will if you find 
 it absolutely necessary in some way or other de- 
 stroy these cartridges ; at least two of them, which 
 you will notice is of darker color than the others. 
 
 "You will use your own judgment as to your 
 way and manner of procedure, and now, sir, may 
 I ask, are you ready to perform this mission?" 
 
 Captain Bentley bowed again, and rising quietly 
 remarked: "A soldier should always hold himself 
 ready to fulfill orders given him." 
 
 "Well spoken, young man," said the chieftain 
 also rising, and again extending him his hand. "I 
 wish you the success that should always be the re- 
 ward of those faithful in the performance of a duty. 1 ' 
 
 This closed the interview and Captain Bentley, 
 making the usual salute, took his departure. 
 
 He at once repaired to his tent and proceeded 
 to equip himself for his journey. When he 
 emerged he carried in his right hand a well-filled 
 canvas sack known and recognized at that time as 
 a soldier's haversack. He carried no weapons that 
 were visible, but he had thrust in the inside pocket 
 of his blouse a small pistol of the Colt pattern, and 
 as he did this a smile passed over his countenance 
 as he recalled another adventure and the antique 
 weapon he had then carried for protection, and as. 
 
 18 
 
2/4 ANDREW BENTLEY, 
 
 his mind dwelt on other scenes he sighed and said 
 aloud to himself : "Poor Forrest ; he was alive then. 
 Now he has been mustered out accepted that re- 
 ward which has come to many a true soldier in the 
 performance of duty." 
 
 With this feeling of sadness, occasioned by the 
 recall of the death of his former companion in arms, 
 Captain Bentley proceeded to prepare his charger 
 for the journey, which having accomplished, he 
 swung himself into the saddle and galloped away in 
 the darkness. 
 
 His aim was to reach the house of an old farmer 
 who, during the summer and autumn of the pre- 
 vious year, when their camp was nearer, had fre- 
 quently come into their lines with produce for sale, 
 at which time Captain Bentley had made his ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 He knew he could do this after several hours' 
 ride, and at this place he purposed to leave his 
 horse and take his chances afoot. 
 
 Having passed the out-posts of his own men, 
 he allowed his horse to drop into a walk for the 
 night was dark, and Bentley knew that his greatest 
 danger lay in interception by that class referred to 
 by his general the vampire element who preyed 
 upon either army. 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 
 
 He rode on in the darkness with hearing alert 
 to detect any unusual sound, but nothing fell upon 
 his ear but the chirp of the tree-frog or the cry of 
 some night bird as it was disturbed in its retreat. 
 
 As the young officer rode along, his mind hav- 
 ing been directed to the past by recollections of 
 other scenes, it quite naturally rested upon home, 
 and the dear ones far away. 
 
 He reviewed the past three years of his life, his 
 starting from home at the beginning of the war, his 
 experience in the hospital, his second entry into 
 the army as a conscript, his desertion, his return, 
 and now his present term of service truly he felt 
 that his career as a soldier had been a somewhat 
 checkered one. 
 
 Then his thoughts rested upon the girl he could 
 not help loving, although her attitude towards him 
 was far from being understood by our hero, and he 
 almost unconsciously repeated to himself, as he had 
 many times before: "Surely there must be some 
 mistake. Annie Preston, I know, has a kind and 
 loving heart." 
 
 Captain Bentley had apparently relaxed his 
 vigilance and did not notice the form that seemed 
 to rise up out of the darkness and gloom of the 
 wayside, but his faithful steed had, and instantly 
 
276 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 shied to the one side as a heavy hand was laid upon 
 the bridle rein and a gruff voice said, "Hand over 
 yer shooting' iron, strenger, fer I've got the drop 
 on ye." 
 
 The officer, thus rudely awakened from his re- 
 verie lost not a moment of thought, but quickly 
 brought the heavily leaded stock of his riding whip 
 with all the force he could summon crashing down 
 upon the up-turned face at his side. 
 
 The man immediately released his hold upon 
 the rein and with a groan staggered backward. At 
 the same moment the darkness was brilliantly lit 
 up by the flash of burning powder and a deafen- 
 ing report rang out on the night air as his weapon 
 went off, either by accident or design we know not 
 which. 
 
 The flash for an instant blinded the officer, and 
 the deafening report so close to his ear almost 
 stunned him, while the bullet whistled harmlessly 
 in the air. 
 
 His horse feeling the freedom of rein and star- 
 tled by the report, sprang away in the darkness at 
 a rapid gait. Just then another report was heard, 
 and Bentley felt a stinging sensation like the cut of 
 a whip flash across his cheek, and putting up his 
 hand he felt the blood beginning to flow from a 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 277 
 
 slight abrasement of the skin, caused by the pas- 
 sage of a bullet. 
 
 "Mighty close shave for a shot in the dark. A 
 little more and it would have finished this night's 
 ride for me, but the old saying is 'A miss is as good 
 as a mile,' although this was not exactly a miss," he 
 remarked as with his handkerchief he wiped away 
 the few drops of blood that had collected. 
 
 All the while his horse galloped on in the dark- 
 ness, soon placing miles between his enemies and 
 himself. 
 
 It was not far from midnight as he drew near 
 the home of the farmer. 
 
 Not being very well acquainted with the coun- 
 try beyond this point, his purpose was to seek a 
 lodging here and proceed the rest of the way on 
 foot' trusting to daylight and his wits to enable him 
 to steer clear of the many guerrilla bands which he 
 knew infested the country. 
 
 He did not doubt that his interruption on the 
 way was by two gentry of that ilk and that there 
 were two of them he felt certain, for had not the 
 bullet which left its mark on his cheek come from 
 the opposite side of the road? 
 
 He entertained no fears of further trouble from 
 these two, for had he not inflicted a punishment 
 
278 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 (how great he could not say) upon at least one of 
 them, and the rapid gait of his horse had left them 
 many miles behind him. 
 
 As he rode up the lane leading to the farm 
 house, his approach was discovered by several of 
 the canine species who rushed out barking fiercely, 
 evidently meaning to contest his farther advance. 
 
 Their loud barking, however, answered one 
 purpose, that of arousing the inmates, for soon 
 Bentley saw a light moving through the house and 
 presently the door was opened and the voice of the 
 farmer was heard speaking to the dogs. 
 
 "Seems there must be some varmint down the 
 lane or else the dogs would listen/' Bentley heard 
 the old man mutter, for the dogs still held their 
 ground and refused to listen to the call of their 
 master. 
 
 "Call off your dogs, neighbor," shouted the 
 young officer. "I want to come up to the house." 
 
 "Why, consarn me ef 'taint some human crit- 
 ter," the old man was heard to remark. 
 
 "Hellow! Who be you, and what does yer 
 want this time o'night?" 
 
 "Call away the dogs that I can come nearer, my 
 friend, and I will tell you," replied the officer. 
 
 "Jist wait till I get 'er light," and ere long he 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 279 
 
 was approaching with a lighted pine knot in one 
 hand and a good sized club in the other with which 
 he drove back the lean, hungry animals, whose very 
 fierceness was no doubt superinduced by their 
 starved -condition. 
 
 As the old man approached nearer and held up 
 his pine knot, he started forward with an exclama- 
 tion of glad surprise, for he had recognized the 
 officer. 
 
 "Wall, I swan ter grashus, ef it haint one of the 
 sojer boys from camp! Where be yer goin' any- 
 how?" 
 
 Bentley informed him he was at the present 
 seeking lodging for himself and steed, and begged 
 to know if he could be accommodated. 
 
 "Sutinly, sutinly, Capting ; jist lite an' I'll tend 
 to yer critter. Better wait here a spell an' I will 
 soon be with yer," and as he said this he walked 
 away in the direction of a low shed or out-building 
 leading the officer's horse by the bridle-rein ; first, 
 however, placing in the hands of Bentley the club 
 he carried to serve as an instrument of protection 
 in case the canine contingency should renew their 
 attack. 
 
 He soon returned and with the remark that 
 "keepin' lodgers wasn't hardly in their line, but he 
 
2 SO ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 guessed he could find a restin' place, if the Capting 
 wasn't over pertickler," he led the way to a seeming 
 annex to the house. 
 
 Ushering his guest into a small room with a low 
 ceiling and one diminutive window, he volun- 
 teered the information that this had been the over- 
 seer's quarters before he had gone off to the war, 
 but since that time it hadn't been used much. 
 
 The furniture consisted of a small sheet-iron 
 stove, calculated for burning wood, a low bed, a 
 small pine table, and a couple of chairs of very an- 
 cient pattern. 
 
 The officer slung the haversack on the table, 
 drew one of the chairs to him, beckoning the 
 farmer to occupy the other, which he did, after 
 sticking his torch between the cracks of the floor. 
 
 Bentley then informed his host that he was on 
 important business and desired to leave early in the 
 morning, that he might possibly be gone before the 
 farmer would be stirring. 
 
 He asked the farmer to kindly care for his steed 
 until his return, as he purposed making the rest of 
 the way on foot. He said he was prepared to ef- 
 fect a disguise that might deceive even the farmer 
 himself. 
 
 The host expressed his willingness to care for 
 
BENTUEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 28 1 
 
 the "officer's critter/' but he doubted very much 
 if any disguise could be gotten up that would de- 
 ceive him. 
 
 Their interview being ended, the old gentle- 
 man took his leave and Bentley, after first screen- 
 ing the window so as to prevent any passer-by 
 from being attracted by the light, at once set to 
 work. First he emptied the contents of the haver- 
 sack upon the table, and instead of the usual hard- 
 tack, bacon, bread, ground coffee and sugar found 
 in such receptacles, there rolled out a bottle of dark 
 liquid, a negro wig, a suit of soiled linen much the 
 worse for wear, a pair of badly run-down old boots, 
 a cotton shirt, a faded handkerchief, and an old 
 straw hat. These, with the addition of a small 
 hand mirror, completed the outfit. 
 
 With a small brush he deftly covered his face, 
 throat, neck, arms and hands with the dark liquid 
 and was soon transformed into an African of ebony 
 hue. 
 
 After adjusting the wig to his head and mak- 
 ing a change of clothing, tying the handkerchief 
 around his neck in the fashion common with negro 
 laborers, he felt his disguise was complete, and 
 doubted very much if his host should now call, 
 
282 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 whether he would recognize in the tall negro his 
 caller of only a few hours previous. 
 
 Then carefully rolling the cast-off clothing into 
 as small a bundle as possible, he placed it within 
 the stove as the best available hiding place; 
 then, after removing all other evidence of his pres- 
 ence there as a Union officer, and being weary and 
 worn, he carelessly threw himself across the bed 
 and was soon locked in slumber. 
 
 It was well for him that this metamorphose had 
 taken place, as subsequent events will show. 
 
 He knew not how long he had slumbered, but 
 his dreams were rudely interrupted, and he was 
 awakened by hearing a great commotion among 
 the dogs outside, and the loud voices of men speak- 
 ing in an excited manner. 
 
 Bentley lay quite still and listened. He could 
 detect the voice of the farmer remonstrating with 
 some one and declaring there was no one beneath 
 his roof except those of his own immediate house- 
 hold. 
 
 "Ya-as, but we uns knows better, fer hev'nt we 
 spied his critter in yan shed? Guess we uns know 
 a cavalry hoss when we seed 'um." 
 
 But still the farmer protested, although he did 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 283 
 
 not attempt to explain the presence of the officer's 
 charger. 
 
 Bentley, as he lay and listened, felt that the ar- 
 gument put up by his host was as much intended 
 to give him time to escape as to convince the guer- 
 rillas that he was not to be found under his roof. 
 
 "I say we search the house, Dan?" said one. 
 
 "Agreed," said the one addressed as Dan. "I 
 jist wanter set my eyes on the chap who placed this 
 rosette above my eye, an' I'll pay him back with in- 
 terest, see ef I don't." 
 
 The listener had suspicions that these two men 
 were his assailants by the wayside, now he was fully 
 convinced, but he had no thought of trying to ef- 
 fect an escape. He felt he could rely upon his dis- 
 guise ; at all events it would be a good opportunity 
 to test it ; besides, had he not his trusty revolver in 
 his breast pocket, and with this he drew it forth and 
 held it in his hand ready for instant action if the oc- 
 casion required it. 
 
 The sound of voices and foot steps was heard 
 approaching. The officer turned over on his side 
 and pretended to be in a deep sleep. 
 
 Shortly the door was rudely swung ajar and the 
 two men stepped in. The old farmer remained 
 trembling outside, for he was not certain whether 
 
284 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 his guest had been aroused and taken his departure 
 or not. 
 
 In event of him still being there, he was expect- 
 ing every minute to hear the sounds of a desperate 
 struggle; but in a short time both made their ap- 
 pearance in the doorway, the one called Dan re- 
 marking that all they could find in there was a 
 dratted old nigger, but whether he was drunk or 
 too sleepy to answer any of their questions they 
 couldn't say. 
 
 The farmer heard this announcement with 
 amazement, but wisely said nothing. 
 
 "Guess we've missed our covey, Bill?" said Dan. 
 "Must hev heard us an' sloped, but drat him, we'll 
 jist take his critter fer I hev a sorter lame foot, an' 
 would jist as soon ride as walk." 
 
 Repairing to the stable, Dan proceeded to pos- 
 sess himself of Bentley's steed, while his compan- 
 ion, not feeling disposed to walk, appropriated to 
 his own use one of the farmer's skinny mules, and 
 although the farmer put up a strong protest against 
 the taking away of a portion of his team, the thieves 
 laughed in his face and at once galloped away. 
 
 This had truly been an eventful night to the old 
 man; twice had his slumbers been disturbed, and 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 285 
 
 now to suffer the loss of his property was trying 
 upon his nerves. 
 
 He felt that all slumber was for the present dis- 
 pelled, so set about arranging for the work of the 
 coming day, which the faint streaks of light in the 
 east warned him was approaching. 
 
 Knowing his guest had expressed his intention 
 of taking an early leave, he decided to see if he had 
 returned, and at all events to learn something re- 
 garding the party whom the guerrillas stated as 
 finding on his premises. 
 
 "There aint nary nigger, big or little, about 
 this place," he muttered to himself, "not since 
 Grant settled down in these yer parts, and every one 
 took to their heels thinkin' they is gwine to be made 
 free right away ;" and thus communing with himself 
 he approached the former quarters of his overseer 
 and entered. Captain Bentley had heard him 
 coming and had arisen and was quietly sitting upon 
 the edge of the bed trying to picture to himself his 
 host's surprise. 
 
 The old man this time caried in his hand an im- 
 provised candle much in use in the South during 
 the latter days of the war. 
 
 It consisted of a piece of cotton wick dipped in- 
 to a liquid of melted resin, and while warm wrapped 
 
286 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 around a stick, the top end passing through a piece 
 of perforated tin. This formed a good light, and 
 when once burned down to the tin the light was put 
 out and the wick pulled up and again re-lit. 
 
 Pushing open the door and entering the room 
 his gaze at once rested upon decidedly the "black- 
 est nigger," to use his own words, "that he had ever 
 seen." 
 
 His surprise was so great that he started back- 
 ward and in his consternation dropped his candle, 
 which, striking on its end, the light was extin- 
 guished. He hastily re-lit it and in a voice he tried 
 very hard to have sound authoritative, demanded 
 of the figure sitting upon the side of the bed, lazily 
 swinging his legs while he gazed at the old gentle- 
 man with an impudent grin upon his face "to clar 
 out." 
 
 "Wha what's yer doin' here, yer black imp? 
 Seems yer makin' yersel' mighty much ter home ef 
 I knows anything. Who guv yer permission ter 
 come into this yer room?" 
 
 "Youse did, massa," replied his colored auditor. 
 
 "'Tis not so, you lying' scamp ; I don't invite no 
 nigger ter sleep in my house, so you better go back 
 ter where yer come from. Where's the young of- 
 ficer I put to sleep in this room? I spose when he 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 28/ 
 
 was out yer done sneaked in, an' ef he comes in now 
 he won't want to lie down on a bed a dirty nigger 
 tramp was sleepin' on, so yer better travel fore I call 
 the dogs." 
 
 "That will hardly be necessary," said Bentley, 
 resuming his natural tone of voice. 
 
 The old man started as though he had received 
 an electric shock, then came forward and closely 
 scrutinized the face of the supposed negro. 
 
 "Not so bad a make-up, my friend," said the of- 
 ficer, laughing. 
 
 "Wall, I'll be gosh hanged !" ejaculated the old 
 man, ef yer haint done gone an' fooled the ole man 
 completely. 
 
 "So yer were the nigger the thieves were talkin' 
 about when they done come out?" 
 
 "Yes, they thought first I was a white man till 
 they turned me over ; then they asked me some 
 questions about whether I had seen a white man 
 about, but of course I was too stupid to understand 
 them." 
 
 "Not much wonder they didn't know yer, but I 
 am mighty sorry to tell yer, they know'd yer horse, 
 an' what's worse swiped him as well as my lead 
 mule." 
 
 The old man said this in so doleful a tone of 
 
288 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 voice that Bentley was moved to a feeling of sym- 
 pathy, and tried to offer words of consolation by 
 saying that as he was largely responsible for the 
 visit of the midnight maurauders and the loss of the 
 mule, he would see that the farmer would be reim- 
 bursed for his loss. 
 
 This proved to be very satisfactory to the old 
 man, and after informing the officer that he would 
 bring him his breakfast as soon as the "wimmen 
 folks got to stirrin," he left him to do his morning 
 chores. 
 
 In due time he again entered with a well-filled 
 tray of nicely cooked victuals, which the hungry 
 officer did justice to. 
 
 After being refreshed, he informed the farmer 
 he was ready to proceed on his way. 
 
 The old gentleman regretted that he didn't have 
 a guide to offer him, but as all his negroes had 
 taken "French leave" he was not able to do so. 
 
 Bentley concluded it was advisable that he 
 travel without a companion, "for," said he, "you 
 know one nigger will attract less attention than 
 two." 
 
 The old gentleman understood the allusion, and 
 laughingly assented. 
 
 The officer said he would ask of the farmer one 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 289 
 
 favor, namely, the loan of his walking stick; then 
 promising to return that way and recompense the 
 farmer, he went on his way with a decided limp in 
 his gait. 
 
 He knew that by taking a short cut through a 
 swamp, he would be able to reach the James river 
 quicker than to pursue the regular highway. 
 
 He chose the former route and carefully made 
 his way through field and woodland, avoiding 
 meeting any one as much as possible. 
 
 He, however, in turning the corner of a wood, 
 came across a small party of men engaged in ex- 
 tracting stumps from a clearing . 
 
 Bentley discovered them first, but seeing he 
 could not avoid them he made his way toward them, 
 his limp perceptibly growing worse as he drew 
 near. 
 
 Of these, he made inquiry where to find a good 
 crossing of the river. 
 
 They directed him to a colored man living 
 about two miles down the stream, whom they said 
 owned a small skiff and sometimes ferried people 
 across, but they wouldn't advise him crossing, as 
 the Yankee troopers on the other side were gob- 
 bling up all the niggers they could lay their hands 
 on and making black "sojers" out of them. 
 
 19 
 
29O ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 One of the workers said it was a dratted shame 
 that southern gentlemen had to fight their own 
 property. 
 
 The negro thanked them for their information, 
 and with the remark that a nigger with a badly 
 sprained ankle wouldn't likely be much account as 
 a "sojer" in either army, he hobbled away. Once 
 out of sight his limp ceased, and he walked briskly 
 off in the direction of the river. 
 
 In due time he found the dusky ferry-man and 
 struck a bargain with him to be ferried across the 
 stream. While this was being done he plied the fer- 
 ry-man with questions, learning from him that oft- 
 times the Union pickets on the other side came 
 close down to the river, and that only a few miles 
 back there was a considerable body of men en- 
 camped. All the while this conversation was being 
 carried on, the ferry-man entertained not the slight- 
 est suspicion but what his companion, like himself, 
 belonged to the down-trodden African race. 
 
 The information received from the sable ferry- 
 man was very pleasing to Bentley, and they had no 
 sooner landed than he sprang out of the skiff, and 
 throwing away his walking stick nimbly climbed 
 the steep bank, while the ferry-man looked after 
 him with open-eyed amazement. 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 2QI 
 
 "Dat ar nigga jist shammin' sho' enuff ; no lame 
 foot about him dat sartin." 
 
 Bentley made his way rapidly until he was ac- 
 costed by a picket, having suddenly come across 
 one of the out-posts of Sheridan's army. 
 
 He made known the nature of his mission to 
 these men, but they were skeptical and doubted his 
 being a messenger sent from Grant, one of them de- 
 claring that General Grant had plenty of good, re- 
 liable white men to carry his messages without hav- 
 ing to hunt up representatives of the colored race. 
 
 Bentley enjoyed their talk for a short while, 
 then to their surprise he bared his arm to the shoul- 
 der, showing the upper portion white, while the 
 lower part was of ebony hue. He also removed his 
 wig, thus convincing them beyond a doubt that he 
 was not one of that race whose day of servitude was 
 almost over. 
 
 The officer was sent under a guard to the head- 
 quarters of the great cavalry chieftain, and as he 
 passed along, many were the curious glances be- 
 stowed upon him, for his entire make-up was a pe- 
 culiar one. 
 
 Arriving at his point of destination, he was 
 ushered into the presence of Sheridan, whom he 
 found busily engaged in signing a bundle of reports 
 
ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 that lay before him. Bentley paused inside the 
 door, awaiting the General's leisure. 
 
 When the last report was signed he looked up 
 and noticing a colored man standing in the attitude 
 of attention, addressed him with, "Well, my sable 
 friend, what can I do for you?" 
 
 Bentley advanced, made a graceful salute and 
 without a word, laid the four cartridges he carried 
 upon the table in front of the General. 
 
 "Humph!" exclaimed Sheridan, "something 
 from Grant," and quickly selecting those of darker 
 shade, he deftly unscrewed the exposed part of the 
 bullet of the two, and out dropped a neatly folded 
 piece of tissue paper, having something closely 
 written thereon in a neat hand. 
 
 It was evinced to Bentley that these were not 
 the first messages received by Sheridan from Grant, 
 put up in that peculiar way. 
 
 The General read the dispatches over carefully, 
 then seizing a pen and a piece of blank paper, he 
 wrote rapidly for a few moments ; calling an orderly 
 he bid him deliver it without delay. 
 
 Then turning to the messenger, who still stood 
 at a respectful attention, he addressed him: 
 "Your name, sir?" 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 2Q3 
 
 "Captain Bentley, of the Penna. Cav- 
 alry." 
 
 "Impossible, sir! I have heard of Captain 
 Bentley, and from what I have learned he is a white 
 man of remarkable nerve and daring; besides, I 
 know of the regiment you refer to ; it is in Warren's 
 command and I have no knowledge of their being 
 any colored company in the entire body." 
 
 Bentley's cheeks glowed with a flush of pride 
 at the favorable mention of himself by this dashing 
 cavalry leader. 
 
 An amused smile overspread his face as he ob- 
 served the close scrutiny the General was making 
 of his person. 
 
 After this inspection was continued for a few 
 moments, Sheridan remarked, "Features a little 
 too sharp, tone of voice rather light, otherwise your 
 make-up is perfect, but pray what was your object 
 in assuming this disguise? 
 
 Bentley informed him of the route over which 
 he had come in order to make time, and the neces- 
 sity of a safe disguise in order to avoid interruption 
 and perhaps delay, and he had been reminded by 
 Grant that expedition was essentially necessary. 
 
 "You are right," assented Sheridan, "for a por- 
 tion of the way over which you have come is now 
 
294 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 being overrun by hordes of the dissatisfied of Lee's 
 army, and they are ready to intercept friend or foe. 
 
 Bentley then related the incident at the farm 
 house, and mentioned the loss of his horse. 
 
 "So then, you are out a horse, eh?" said the Gen- 
 eral. "Well, you shall have as good a one as you 
 lost," and picking up a pen he wrote a few lines, 
 affixing at the bottom, "By order of P. H. Sheri- 
 dan," handing it to Bentley with the remark, "I 
 have issued orders. We break camp to-day; you 
 can ride with us." 
 
 Bentley glanced at the writing upon the paper, 
 and found it was a requisition upon the Division 
 Quartermaster for a complete outfit of horse, sad- 
 dle and bridle. He thanked the General, made the 
 usual salute and took his departure. 
 
 Captain Bentley's return with Sheridan's troop- 
 ers enable him to escape the danger incident to a 
 return alone. 
 
 He called at the farm house on his way back and 
 found that his friend had received no further mo- 
 lestation; he found the package he had placed in 
 the stove still undisturbed, and laying aside his 
 negro costume, he soon emerged clad again in his 
 uniform. 
 
BENTLEY CARRIES A MESSAGE. 295 
 
 Bentley, upon his return, reported to the Com- 
 mander-in-Chief and received his thanks. 
 
 In due time the old farmer found a recompense 
 for his mule, which placed the young cavalry cap- 
 tain higher in his esteem than ever. 
 
 This juncture of Sheridan with Grant gave the 
 Union army an unbroken line clear to Appomattox. 
 
296 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WOUNDED-MARRIAGE-DEATH. 
 
 HE end of the long struggle was at last in 
 sight. Grant was closing in on Peters- 
 burg. The battle of Five Forks was 
 fought. In this engagement the cavalry 
 under Sheridan took an active part. 
 
 Our hero with his company was in the thickest 
 of the fight. Captain Bentley heretofore seemed 
 to bear a charmed life. He was well in advance 
 of his men waving his sword and cheering them on, 
 when all of a sudden his sword was seen to drop 
 from his hand and a moment later he pitched from 
 his charger, and fell heavily upon the ground. 
 
 A number of his men rushed forward, picked 
 him up and tenderly bore him to the rear. He was 
 unconscious but breathing heavily. A hasty ex- 
 amination was made and it was found that his right 
 arm had been pierced by a piece of shell and badly 
 shattered from elbow to hand, besides there was a 
 frightful gash upon his head, caused by coming in 
 
WOUNDED MARRIAGE DEATH. 
 
 contact with a sharp boulder as he fell. This no 
 doubt caused his state of insensibility. An am- 
 bulance coming up, he was carefully placed within 
 and hurried off to the field hospital. 
 
 Three weeks later we find him pale and wan 
 from the loss of blood, in one of the city hospitals 
 of Washington. His arm had been amputated 
 twice ; first, below the elbow and again a few inches 
 above. 
 
 Word had been sent home by a comrade, stat- 
 ing that he was seriously wounded, nothing more, 
 and again the little village was astir. Its peaceful 
 inhabitants had passed through many exciting 
 events during the past four years. 
 
 Petersburg and Richmond had fallen, and on 
 that memorable field of Appomattox, a few days 
 later, the Confederate army under Lee had surren- 
 dered. Peace had come and loud and wild were 
 the huzzas as the victors came marching home. 
 Everybody seemed wild with excitement. Bells 
 were rung and bonfires were made to commemor- 
 ate the event. George Coulter had returned with 
 the gold leaf of a major upon his shoulder straps. 
 The remaining survivor of the little band of four, 
 
 who first marched forth from N lay dying in 
 
 the hospital. 
 
2Q8 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 Yes, the news had come that Captain Bentley 
 was very low. A conference was being held in the 
 Bentley homestead. Some one must go to Wash- 
 ington. Who should it be? Annie Preston was 
 there. In spite of her pride, she was drawn to the 
 old couple, and passed much of her time with them 
 since the news had come of James being wounded. 
 She felt that some horrible mistake existed betwixt 
 she and her lover, but she could not desert the aged 
 mother now, when she most needed a friend. The 
 question was again asked, "Who will go to Wash- 
 ington?" Walter was quite willing, but his youth- 
 fulness prevented on an occasion like this. The 
 mother could not go, so it fell upon the father. 
 Annie Preston expressed her determination to ac- 
 company him. This was a pleasant surprise, and 
 Farmer Bentley felt pleased to know he would have 
 a companion. 
 
 Annie did not stop to consider what people 
 might say. She did not care. Her heart told 
 her that she was needed there. 
 
 They set forth on their journey next morning 
 and arrived in the Capitol city by nightfall. Could 
 Annie have had her way, she would have started 
 out at once to find the hospital, but the counsel of 
 her companion prevailed. 
 
WOUNDED MARRIAGE DEATH. 
 
 They rested over night, and in the morning hav- 
 ing received some necessary directions, they set 
 forth. Ere long they reached the hospital and 
 having made known the object of their visit, they 
 were politely shown to the office of the surgeon in 
 charge, who as soon as he learned the name of the 
 wounded officer for whom they were looking, re- 
 plied : 
 
 "Ah, yes ; Captain Bentley, one of the bravest 
 men in his regiment/' Calling an orderly he di- 
 rected him to show the lady and gentleman to ward 
 No. 17. 
 
 Captain Bentley lay that morning quietly on 
 his cot, his mind busy on things not pertaining to 
 this world. He had always kept his little Testa- 
 ment with him and now since his confinement in 
 the hospital, it had proven a rich solace to him, 
 and many were the comforting passages he had 
 found within its lids. He had felt for sometime 
 back that he might never see the old home and his 
 loved ones again, but the thought did not cause 
 him much uneasiness. What was it to him to go 
 
 back to N ? He felt that he had lost Annie 
 
 Preston, and there was naught else except his 
 dear old parents and Walter. He felt that he 
 would like to see them all again and feel their kiss 
 
3OO ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 upon his cheek, but here his yearnings for home 
 ended. He had lain for days feeling the throbbing 
 of his maimed arm, for he had been obliged to un- 
 dergo a third amputation. This time the doctors 
 had taken it off close to the shoulder, as the only 
 remedy to save the young officer's life. He was 
 resting quietly now, though much exhausted. 
 
 When Annie and the father reached the ward in 
 which the patient lay, it was deemed best for the 
 nurse to apprise him of the presence of his father 
 but to say nothing of the young lady. After the 
 nurse had in a quiet way told him of the arrival of 
 his parent, the father stepped forward grasping his 
 son's remaining hand, sank upon his knees at the 
 bedside, bowing over him and in sobbing tones, 
 murmured, "My boy ! My boy !" 
 
 The sufferer looked up with a glad smile and 
 said, "Father, I thought you would come, but is 
 that mother with you?" for his quick eye had de- 
 tected a strange lady in conversation with the nurse. 
 Annie had purposely turned her back so he would 
 not at first recognize her. 
 
 "No," said the father, "mother could not come, 
 but there is one here whom I think you would be 
 pleased to see," and beckoning Annie forward, he 
 stepped quietly aside. 
 
WOUNDED MARRIAGE DEATH. 30! 
 
 Annie had planned how she would meet with 
 James, but one glance at the pale emaciated face 
 and the bandaged stump lying across the counter- 
 pane, and she forgot everything. Bounding for- 
 ward with a low cry of anguish she knelt at the bed- 
 side of her poor maimed lover. 
 
 Captain Bentley's face spoke volumes, but he 
 could only whisper, "My darling! My darling! 
 At last! At last !" 
 
 Farmer Bentley deemed it best to withdraw for 
 a short time and leave the lovers to themselves. 
 Then followed explanations. James told how he 
 had written again and again, and how he had pa- 
 tiently awaited a reply, hoping against hope. 
 
 Annie had the same story to tell; she had re- 
 ceived but one letter, the first one James had writ- 
 ten from Camp Stoneman. This letter she had 
 promptly answered. They both thought it very 
 strange that the letters James had written to his 
 parents and their reply to him had passed regularly. 
 
 All of a sudden James asked, "Who handles the 
 mail now at home?" for James was not aware, or 
 had perhaps forgotten that there had been a change 
 in the post office at N . 
 
 "Why, Henry Wililams," replied Annie; "But 
 why do you ask?" 
 
3O2 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 "That explains it all, then/' said her lover, and 
 he related to Annie all of Henry's conduct towards 
 him while he was in the ranks, and also of his per- 
 fidy at home. 
 
 Annie then told him of Henry's aspirations to- 
 ward her and James felt he now fully understood 
 the cause of Henry Williams' unfriendly attitude to- 
 ward him. They were both now fully convinced 
 that they had been victims of their school-mate's 
 villainy. 
 
 It was thought best by the nurse that they had 
 beter not prolong their stay further, as it might 
 prove too exhaustive for her patient, but that they 
 could return on the morrow. 
 
 The father at this juncture returned and passed 
 a few moments in conversation with his son. They 
 then took their departure, promising to return on 
 the morrow. The wounded man seemed much 
 refreshed by this interview. He appeared to for- 
 get the beating of his maimed arm. He looked 
 eagerly for their coming. 
 
 When they called the following day, they found 
 him perceptibly brighter. James enjoyed a quiet 
 talk with his father about home matters, then a 
 longer one with Annie. 
 
 As they were about to leave him, James 
 
WOUNDED MARRIAGE DEATH. 303 
 
 stretched out his remaining arm towards Annie 
 and drew her close down to him, while he whispered 
 something in her ear. 
 
 "Yes/' replied Annie, blushing deeply, "I said 
 1 would join my fortune to yours, be you maimed or 
 unscathed." 
 
 "Are you ready, darling, to fulfill that promise 
 now?" and the wounded soldier beamed upon her 
 a look of tenderness. 
 
 Annie looking into his face, felt she could deny 
 him nothing, so she murmured, "Yes, I am ready." 
 
 The smile that lit up the poor, wan face was 
 beautiful to behold. So it was arranged that the 
 ceremony should take place the following morning. 
 Captain Bentley, although he had felt better since 
 their coming, did not feel quite sure that he would 
 be able to return with them, and he could not bear 
 the thought of Annie leaving him as aught else 
 than his wedded bride. 
 
 As for Annie, she preferred to return as his 
 wife, or if the worst came to worst, as his widow. 
 
 On the morrow when our friends came to the 
 hospital, they were accompanied by a dignified 
 looking gentleman in clerical garb. They repaired 
 at once to the office of the surgeon in charge, where 
 they made him acquainted with their purpose. 
 
3O4 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 The officer entered heartily into their plans, claim- 
 ing the right of giving the bride away. The 
 wounded soldier was comfortably propped up 
 among snowy white pillows, and everything had 
 been tastefully arranged by the nurse, when the lit- 
 tle party, consisting of the head surgeon, the minis- 
 ter, Farmer Bentley and Annie entered. They 
 gathered about the soldier's bed-side. The jolly 
 surgeon gave the bride away, and in a few moments 
 the man of God pronounced them man and wife. 
 
 Annie's heart beat wildly as she bent over him 
 to receive the nuptial kiss, while James sank back 
 on his pillows with a great joy in his heart. 
 
 They did not prolong their stay, fearing that the 
 excitement would prove too much for the wounded 
 officer, so left him, promising to return soon. 
 
 Captain Bentley seemed to improve gradually 
 and each visit they found him much better, so they 
 lengthened their stay with the hope that he might 
 be able to return with them. At length it was 
 thought that with care he might be taken home. 
 So arrangements were made for their return. The 
 day was set, a section in a parlor car was engaged, 
 and the trio set out on their journey homeward. 
 The usual speed was made by the train, but the 
 time seemed long before they drew up at their des- 
 
WOUNDED MARRIAGE-^ DEATH. 305 
 
 tination. James was pretty well exhausted when 
 they left the railway coach. Then there was the 
 ride in the carriage, though short, and the road 
 carefully chosen by the driver, it still added to his 
 exhaustion, and it was with a sigh of relief that he 
 found himself in the dear old bed room at home, 
 carefully tucked in bed, 'mid snowy linen with his 
 mother's arms around his neck and her soft kiss 
 resting upon his cheek. He rested quite comfort- 
 ably, only waking once and asking for a drink. 
 
 In the morning, Annie found an opportunity to 
 run over home and acquaint them of her return. 
 She had apprised them by letter of the event in the 
 hospital. She did not tarry long, but hastened 
 back to her husband's bedside. He was awake, 
 but feeling weak; although he slumbered well he 
 did not seem refreshed. The bandages on his arm 
 had become displaced and the sore was irritated 
 and inflamed. 
 
 The family physician was called in and the 
 wound nicely dressed and re-bandaged, and James 
 rested more quietly. 
 
 Towards evening it was seen that he was grow- 
 ing feverish. Although Annie had slept but little 
 during her vigil the previous night, she insisted on 
 
 20 
 
306 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 again watching, finally agreeing to divide the night 
 watch with Walter. 
 
 Towards midnight he grew worse, and his mind 
 at times wandered. Now he would be leading his 
 men ; next pleading with Annie to write him only a 
 line, then again he was trying to make his way home 
 from the army with the fear of capture upon him. 
 But near morning, he fell into a deep slumber only 
 awakening when the sun was high in the heavens. 
 
 They all hoped and prayed for the best, but the 
 journey home had been too much for him. Each 
 day he grew weaker, while the loving, patient 
 young wife sat beside him and watched him slip- 
 ping away from her day by day. 
 
 Kind neighbors came and offered their help, 
 but she, although almost prostrated, would entrust 
 him to no one, unless it was Walter, who faithfully 
 shared her vigils nightly. 
 
 As the fever increased, his ravings grew wilder, 
 and his friends shuddered as his voice would loudly 
 ring out ordering his men to "Charge the Battery !" 
 while he would try in vain to wave the scarred 
 stump. 
 
 Slowly the marble pallor and the strange chill 
 crept on, pinching the nose, contracting the lips, 
 touching the forehead and moistening the soft 
 
WOUNDED MARRIAGE DEATH. 307 
 
 brown hair that Annie smoothed caressingly, as she 
 bent down to catch the last faint whisperings of a 
 spirit nearly gone. 
 
 "We fought the battle bravely and our flag has 
 triumphed, but Annie, dear, I am almost home. 
 Mother ! Father ! Brother Walter ! Come closer, 
 I cannot see you. It must be growing dark." 
 Annie knew it was the film of death stealing over 
 those blue eyes, and her heart was almost breaking. 
 
 The poor mother could not see for her tears, 
 nor speak for her sorrow. They all gathered 
 closer. 
 
 "'Tis not so hard to die; no pain nor anguish. 
 All peace, peace." His voice sank to a whisper. 
 Beckoning his father to him he whispered : 
 
 "Father, you will not be ashamed of your boy 
 when he is gone? I tried to retrieve my honor." 
 
 "Annie, dearest, kiss me." She bowed over 
 him and pressed her lips to those of his, now chill- 
 ing in death. 
 
 "Mother ! Walter ! Good-bye." Then for a time 
 his mind seemed to wander. Again he was amid 
 the scenes of carnage. "Forward boys ! Keep the 
 flag well towards the front !" These were his last 
 words, for a sudden chill came over him and his 
 hand convulsively clasped Annie's and thus passed 
 
308 ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 away one of the brightest and bravest of the many 
 martyrs, who laid their lives upon the altar of our 
 country. 
 
 Soldier, rest! Thy warfare's ended, 
 
 Life's last conflict now is o'er; 
 Bugle-calls with death notes blended, 
 
 Shall disturb thine ear no more. 
 Peaceful is thy dreamless slum'ber; 
 
 .Peaceful, but how cold and stern, 
 Thou hast joined that silent number, 
 
 In that land whence none return. 
 
 Soldier, rest! Thy flag above thee, 
 
 Hangs in many a drooping fold; 
 Loved one's are bending o'er thee, 
 
 Many tear drops we behold: 
 Thine was not a hand to falter, 
 
 When thy sword should leave its sheath; 
 Thine was not a cheek to alter, 
 
 Though thy duty led to death. 
 
 Soldier, rest! We smooth thy pillow, 
 
 For thy last long earthly sleep; 
 Peacefully among 1 thy kindred, 
 
 Storms unheard will o'er thee sweep. 
 While thy young bride weeps in sorrow, 
 
 That no more she hears thy tread, 
 That the night which knows no morrow 
 
 Darkly veils thy laurel'd head. 
 
 The entire community turned out to pay their 
 respects to one whom they all loved. They gave 
 
WOUNDED MARRIAGE DEATH. 309 
 
 him a soldier's burial, wrapping around his casket 
 the flag for which he gave his young life. 
 
 The same old drums that had been beaten so 
 joyously on that bright summer morning when he 
 had first marched away, now sounded the sad dirge 
 of the "Dead March in Saul." 
 
 In the old German Reformed Cemetery, a little 
 way out from the village, they sorrowfully laid him 
 down, while the little platoon of soldiers led by his 
 old comrade, Major George Coulter, fired the part- 
 ing salute over his grave. Not far from him lies 
 one of his companions in arms, Alpheus Forrest. 
 
 Many years have passed since that sad day. 
 Other graves have been made since then, and lost 
 sight of by growing foliage, but there is one that 
 receives attention same as in the years gone by. 
 Above it rises a plain marble shaft bearing this sim- 
 ple inscription : 
 
 "CAPTAIN JAMES ANDREW BENTLEY. " 
 
 During her lifetime, the guardian of this little 
 mound was a sad-eyed woman, bearing much of 
 the beauty of her youth. She always remained as 
 Mrs. Annie Bentley. She had many offers of mar- 
 riage, but preferred to remain a soldier's widow. 
 
3IO ANDREW BENTLEY. 
 
 She was frequently assisted in the care of this grave 
 by a tall, bronzed man, closely resembling the lover 
 of her youth. He answers to the name of Walter, 
 and is the same in his loyalty to the memory of the 
 dead soldier, as when a youth he sought at the risk 
 of his own life to aid and assist one who controlled 
 his entire affection. 
 
 It would hardly be fair to my readers to close 
 without a word regarding Major George Coulter 
 and Henry Williams. 
 
 The former rose to prominence among his fel- 
 low men, and upon several occasions was chosen to 
 fill positions of honor and trust, which he did with 
 credit to himself and his constituents. He con- 
 tinued up to the time of his death which occurred 
 a few years ago an honored member of the Grand 
 Army of the Republic. 
 
 Henry Williams having made his first wrong 
 step, others quickly followed. It was not long 
 until a suspicion arose that the mail was being tam- 
 pered with. A decoy letter was sent out and 
 Henry fell a ready victim. He was obliged to un- 
 dergo a trial, and being unable to clear himself, was 
 forced to pay the penalty for his wrong doing. Not 
 having for years past much standing in the com- 
 munity, he had less after satisfying the demands of 
 
WOUNDED MARRIAGE DEATH. 3 1 1 
 
 justice. He, therefore, sought a home in a distant 
 state, and of his later career we are not well in- 
 formed. 
 
 And now, my dear readers, the tale is ended, 
 but if the perusal of this has afforded you as much 
 pleasure as the writer has enjoyed penning it, we are 
 satisfied, for we have lived again amid the scenes 
 of our youth and the companions of our boyhood. 
 
 THE END 
 
An intensely interesting story 
 from the pen of . . * * 
 
 WALTER SCOTT BROWNE 
 
 will soon appear in print 
 under the title of 
 
 The Rose of the Wilderness, 
 
 or 
 
 Washington's Firsf Love. 
 
 In this romance will be found much that will hold the interest 
 of the reader from start to finish. 
 
 The plot is laid during the opening years of the French and 
 Indian War when the doughty Englishman contended with the 
 fiery Frenchman for possession of territory in America that was 
 then the home and hunting-ground of the untutored savage. 
 
 In this story, so graphically written by the author, the reader 
 learns more in detail of the early life of the Father of Our Country 
 and his first public duty. 
 
 The ill-fated expedition of General Braddock will form an 
 interesting part of this narrative. 
 
 CLOTH, per volume, ... $1.25 
 PAPER. ..... .50 
 
 WALTER S. BROWNE, 
 Vineland, N. J. 
 
Beptley... 
 
 or- 
 
 flow; fle Retrieved His Honor 
 
 A war-time story breathing the spirit of 
 Love and Patriotism. 
 
 BY- 
 
 WALTER SCOTT BROWNE 
 
 IL.LUSTRATED--32O PAGES. 
 
 Price, cloth $1.00 
 
 Paner binding , 50 
 
 For Agency or other business, address 
 
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