The Gun-Bearer 
 
 A WAR NOVEL 
 
 By E. A. Robinson and G. A. Wall. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY JAMES FAGAN. 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAI 

 
 THE IMPROVISATORS; 
 
 OR. 
 
 LIFE IN ITALY. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH OP 
 
 HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 
 
 By MARY HOWITT. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY HASBI O EDWARDS 
 I2mo. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 This is an entrancing romance dealing with the classic scenes 
 of Italy. To those who desire to behold with their own eyes 
 those scenes, it wO create a fresh spring of sentiment, and fill 
 them with unspeakable longing. To those who have visited the 
 fair and memory-haunted towers and towns of Florence, Rome 
 and Naples, it will revive their enthusiasm and refresh their 
 knowledge. Andersen published this novel immediately after 
 his return from Italy, and it created an extraordinary effect. 
 Those who had depreciated the author's talent came forward 
 voluntarily and offered him their homage. It is a work of such 
 singular originality and beauty that no analysis or description 
 could do it justice, and the universal admiration which it at once 
 excited has caused it to be read and reread throughout the world. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsd 2alers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt ,o: price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, New Yo
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 

 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD A. ROBINSON 
 
 AND 
 
 GEORGE A. WALL, 
 
 Authors of "The Disk," etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JAMES FAG AN. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 
 PUBLISHERS. 
 
 TMI CHOICE HKIE8 : IMUtO SEMI-MONTHLY. SUMCHIPIION PHICf, TWELVE DOLLAR* Pt *NUM. O. 10T, 
 APRIL 15, lilt. ENTIMO AT TMI NEW YORK, N. ., POST OPPICI A* MCOND CLAM MAIL HATTI*.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1894. 
 BY BOBEBT BONNEB'S SONS
 
 I SEE the cloud of battle and the flame. 
 I hear the cannon roar, the crackling note 
 Of rifles and the clash of angry steel. 
 My pulses quicken and my brain is wild 
 With frenzied shouts and yells of men in strife. 
 There father, son and brother fearless stand 
 For all men hold most dear. 
 
 There, right and left, brave men are stricken down 
 Beneath the banner that they love so well ! 
 And all the while, pulsating with the shriek 
 And hiss of shot and shell, with cries and groans 
 Of wounded, dying men, the sulph'rous air 
 Speaks to each sense, as if in thunder tones: 
 The price of peace is blood. 
 
 1703618
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 PART L PROLOGUE. 
 
 "W 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AR ! Ledger ! Midnight edition ! Fort 
 Sumter fired on !" was the cry which, at 
 two o'clock on the morning of the i3th 
 of April, 1 86 1, aroused the slumbering village in which 
 I lived. It was a cry which stimulated and thrilled 
 every fiber of my being, as I ran, splashing through 
 mud, darkness and rain, toward the Waytown Arms, 
 our village inn. 
 
 I had recognized the hoarse, familiar voice shouting 
 this stirring news as belonging to old Joe, the paper- 
 carrier, and though I was but a boy, I knew the storm 
 that had been threatening the safety of the Union had 
 burst upon us. 
 
 Joe was standing on the seat of a light wagon in the 
 open roadway before the tavern. His vehicle was 
 drawn by two small mules, whose sweating bodies 
 threw up clouds of steam, which the lantern in the 
 
 [7 ]
 
 8 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 hands of the innkeeper scarcely penetrated, and in 
 which old Joe's form towered black and gigantic. 
 
 A surging crowd of hurriedly dressed men had al- 
 ready gathered around the wagon, and I could see the 
 gleam of papers as they were passed from hand to 
 hand. 
 
 Drawing near, I saw there was another person in 
 the wagon who was distributing the papers old Joe, 
 maintaining his lofty position above the heads of the 
 encircling crowd, and, whip in hand, as if impatient to 
 be off, had but the one care on his mind, to rouse the 
 heaviest sleeper in the village with this dreaded news. 
 
 A moment before silence had reigned in the unsus- 
 pecting security of our village, and I, too thoughtful 
 for sleep, by reason of the excited talk which we boys, 
 imitating our elders, had been indulging in at our sur- 
 reptitious meeting that evening, was standing by the 
 window of my room up under the roof, looking out 
 into the darkness and listening abstractedly to the drip, 
 drip of the rain from the eaves. Not a light was to 
 be seen anywhere ; utter gloom and, save the noise of 
 the rain, silence everywhere. 
 
 After a while I fancied that the echo of another 
 sound mingled with the patter of the water. It was 
 like the blast of a horn. I opened the window, that I 
 might hear better, and, listening with suspended breath, 
 heard the sound again, this time more plainly. 
 
 Toot ! Toot ! 
 
 It was a horn, surely, but still far away. 
 
 Later I could hear the muffled rumble of wheels and 
 the thump of hoofs in the covered bridge at the north 
 end of the village and, when that ceased, the rattle of 
 wheels over stony ground and the sound of a hoarse 
 voice shouting something. 
 
 Others were waking in the village ; lights gleamed
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 9 
 
 from many windows, and the heads of many people 
 appeared, some with night-caps and some without. 
 Meanwhile the noise of hoof -beats and the sound of 
 wagon-wheels grew louder, the shouting more distinct, 
 and, when the team turned the corner, came full and 
 strong the cry of " War." 
 
 I made a short cut to 'the ground by way of my win- 
 dow, the porch underneath, and a drop from the edge 
 of that to the soft lawn below, and in a very short 
 space of time was, as you see me at the beginning of 
 this story, splashing through the darkness and mud on 
 my way to the inn, where I had rightly concluded Joe 
 would rein up. 
 
 By the time I arrived, however, the demand for 
 papers had been satisfied, and old Joe, anxious that no 
 one should get ahead of him in th"e village beyond 
 cried : 
 
 " Ready, boys ! G'lang !" 
 
 Then letting the whip fall on the steaming mules, 
 and with a final cry "War !" he went rattling and splash- 
 ing away into the darkness. 
 
 As Joe drove off, the crowd which he had called to- 
 gether began to diminish, some going one way and 
 some another, all anxious to know the particulars. 
 
 Many of the villagers went into the tavern, whither 
 I followed, but on presenting myself at the door of the 
 bar-room, where they seemed to have assembled, ad- 
 mittance was refused me. 
 
 " The room is already too full," they said. 
 
 On trying the office, I found gathered there several 
 of the boys whom I had left only a little while before. 
 They were all in one group at the end of the room, 
 watching with a mixture of diffidence and curiosity a 
 strange man who was reading one of Joe's papers by 
 the light of the desk-lamp.
 
 10 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 Curiosity at last getting the best of every other feel- 
 ing, little Tommy Atkins ventured to break the silence 
 and ask the stranger the meaning of all the excitement. 
 
 " It means war, I suppose, boys," he said, in a kindly 
 voice, looking toward us ; then, probably surmising 
 that we were anxious to know all about it, he added : 
 " but would you like to hear what the paper says ?" 
 
 "Yes!" we cried, in chorus. 
 
 " Very well ; you sit down, and I'll read." 
 
 We scattered to seats, and the stranger, springing to 
 a place on the desk, by which he had been standing, 
 drew the lamp toward him, and holding the paper side- 
 wise, so that the light would fall strong on the print, 
 read: 
 
 " 'SPECIAL DISPATCH TO THE LEDGER. 
 
 "'Charleston, S. C., April 12, 1861. The rebels opened fire 
 upon Fort Sumter at 4:30 this morning. The first shot was 
 fired from Fort Moultrie. The iron-clad floating battery and 
 the heavy batteries on Mt. Pleasant and Cummings Point im- 
 mediately followed suit. The encircling guns poured such a 
 storm of shot and shell upon the loyal fort that only the cannon 
 in the casemates could be used,' " etc., etc. 
 
 But everybody has read these first dispatches, and 
 been as excited over them as we were. Our youthful 
 spirits under the weird spell of the early morning 
 hour could not be held entirely in check, even by the 
 magnetic charm of the .stranger's voice and manner or 
 the strange news that he was reading, and broke 
 through all restraint at times. We were enthusiastic 
 partisans of the northern cause, and understood, in a 
 youthful way, the nature of the crisis. Yet I am sure 
 none of us really grasped the whole significance of this 
 news. The novelty wore away somewhat, I confess for 
 myself, as the stranger went on reading, and my atten- 
 tion wandered occasionally to outside matters. 
 
 I heard a wagon rattle up to the door, saw the post-
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 11 
 
 master come into the office, take his hat and coat from 
 a peg, and go out again. He was evidently thinking 
 deeply about something, for he took no notice of the 
 stranger, who kept on reading, nor of us boys sitting 
 around in silence. In a little while I heard the wagon 
 rumble away. 
 
 Again, the stranger had not long been reading be- 
 fore Joe Bentley, the blacksmith's son, who was sitting 
 astride a chair, with his elbows resting on the back, 
 began fumbling about in his pockets. Bringing forth, 
 at last, a short clay pipe, from which he carefully 
 shook the ashes, he crowded down what tobacco there 
 was in it, fished out a live coal from among the ashes 
 in the big fireplace, and proceeded to light it in an ab- 
 stracted sort of way. Then placing the pipe in one 
 corner of his mouth, where neither it nor the smoke 
 could interfere with his vision, he fixed his eyes un- 
 waveringly on the stranger. 
 
 Joe was the biggest and oldest one among us, and 
 we always looked up to him a little on that account ; 
 but now he seemed more than ever sedate and trust- 
 worthy. 
 
 War and the horrors prophesied by the paper 
 might seem unreal and overdrawn to the rest of us, 
 but Joe must realize them, I thought, as I watched him 
 sitting there so stately and thoughtful with the stump 
 of a pipe between his teeth. 
 
 Tommy Atkins also seemed to realize something of 
 the terrible news. He, too, seemed absorbed by it, and 
 sat on the end of the newspaper-table, swinging his 
 feet and twisting and untwisting his cap, from which 
 he had long ago wrung out every drop of moisture, ut- 
 terly unconscious of everything about him except the 
 words of the stranger. 
 
 During this time it was evident, from noises which
 
 12 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 came to us from the bar-room, that the older people 
 there assembled were not without their excitement. 
 First we would hear an indistinct roar, as if all were 
 talking at once. Then came a more decided shout, 
 with stamping of feet and thumping of chair-legs. 
 After this a short silence, and then the indistinct tones 
 of a single voice murmuring on, sometimes undisturbed, 
 sometimes interrupted by applause, and in one or two 
 cases completely overcome by noises of an opposite 
 character, not quick and soon over, like applause, but 
 slowly growing from a mere murmur persistently 
 louder and louder until the one voice was swallowed 
 up and lost. 
 
 This effort to drown the speaker's voice occurred but 
 twice. At the end of the second time I heard a scuf- 
 fling of feet, a crash as of breaking furniture, followed 
 by a loud, angry voice, shouting: "You lie! Take 
 that !" A pistol-shot added to the confusion, and as I 
 heard some one cry out : " Murder !" the stranger 
 jumped to the floor and darted through the doorway 
 leading to the bar-room. 
 
 Curiosity overcoming my judgment, I followed just 
 far enough to see the cause of this disturbance, and 
 there, close by the door, struggling in the grasp of two 
 of the worst roughs that ever disgraced the quiet of a 
 mill-village, was old white-haired Deacon Miller, his 
 face streaked with blood, his coat torn to shreds, his 
 hat off and a crowd of dazed and seemingly helpless 
 men watching this unnatural combat, yet making no 
 effort to offer the help that was needed. 
 
 Pressing through the crowd, the stranger jumped 
 like a tiger at the bully nearest him, and, with a well- 
 directed blow, knocked him senseless. Before the other 
 villain could appreciate the situation, he, too, received 
 a well-merited punishment, and the deacon, faint with
 
 THE GUN- BEARER. 13 
 
 exhaustion, would have fallen to the floor had not the 
 stranger caught him in his arms. 
 
 A murmur of approval went up from the crowd, and 
 Billy Green, of the variety store, shouted : 
 
 " Kick the rascals into the road ! Hang 'em to the 
 sign-post !" 
 
 "Silence !" thundered the stranger, in a commanding 
 tone. " Can't you act like men ? Landlord, get out 
 your carriage and help me take the deacon to his 
 house. And you, sir," addressing Billy Green, "get me 
 a basin of water and a sponge." 
 
 It was soon discovered that the Deacon had received 
 only a slight flesh wound, and that, aside from the 
 damage sustained by his clothing and the exhaustion 
 resulting from rough handling, there was no serious 
 damage done. 
 
 After the carriage with the deacon, the stranger and 
 the landlord had rolled away, the two miscreants, who 
 by this time had gained their feet, muttered threats of 
 dire vengeance upon the deacon. 
 
 " You'd better let him alone," said Joe Bentley, who 
 was standing behind me. " If he can't take care of 
 himself, he's got a friend who can take of him." 
 
 The roughs looked at Joe angrily an instant, then 
 turned and left the tavern. 
 
 " They 're a bad lot," said Dick Wentworth, the sta- 
 tion-agent, as the door closed after them " a bad lot 
 and they ought to be watched. They're mean enough 
 to do anything." 
 
 " Who are they, anyhow ?" asked Billy Green, rather 
 out of contempt than for information. 
 
 " Jail-birds a couple of jail-birds of the worst sort, 
 just two weeks out of jails, where they've been board- 
 ing for the past three years for setting fire to the dea- 
 con's mill."
 
 14 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " They '11 get another three years if they don't make 
 themselves scarce 'round these parts," said Billy. 
 
 " Like enough like enough," answered Wentworth, 
 meditatively ; " but they'll be up to some deviltry before 
 they go. You see if they don't." 
 
 An hour was spent discussing the war-news, during 
 which the situation was viewed from every stand- 
 point. 
 
 The village orator, Bert Smith, who, by the way, hap- 
 pened to be town-crier, had a good deal to say about 
 the Stars and Stripes, the scream of the eagle for 
 liberty, and rounded out his speech with the solemnity 
 of a prophet. 
 
 " I see," he said, " this beautiful land of ours deluged 
 with blood ; our sons slaughtered on our own hearth- 
 stones ; ruin, wretchedness, tears, despair and death, 
 everywhere." 
 
 Just as he had finished the landlord returned, and, 
 rushing into the room, shouted excitedly : 
 
 "The rascals! What's become of them? Where 
 are those brutes that struck the deacon ?" 
 
 " Gone !" answered Billy Green. 4t They left just after 
 you drove away." 
 
 " Boys," replied the landlord, " there 's going to be 
 trouble to-night, sure ; and those villains are going to 
 make it." 
 
 " What's the matter now?" asked Billy. 
 
 " Matter enough. The stranger and I took the dea- 
 con home, and were coming back through the woods. 
 When we 'd got as far as Paddock's, I saw two men 
 sneak in behind the big stone at the bound'ry line and 
 crawl off into the darkness. The stranger also saw 
 them, and said : ' Landlord, you 'd better turn and drive 
 me back to Miller's house. Those imps mean mischief, 
 and the old man may need help. I'll stop with him
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 15 
 
 to-night ?' So I drove back, left him, and he's there 
 now." 
 
 "What's that?" said Billy, from the west window. 
 " The moon ?" 
 
 " Moon !" replied the landlord, going hastily to the 
 window. " Moon don't rise in the west. My God, 
 boys ! They 're at it ; they Ve fired either the mill or the 
 deacon's house. Come on ; help me out with the big 
 wagon ; and you, Billy, run for the sexton, get the key 
 to the church, and ring the bell, quickly ! Away with 
 with you !" noticing a little hesitation. 
 
 Willing hands helped the landlord get out the big 
 wagon, to which were harnessed a fresh pair of horses, 
 and into which sprang half a dozen men, eager to ren- 
 der whatever assistance might be needed to save the 
 mill, upon which so many of the townspeople depended 
 for their daily bread. 
 
 Just as the horses were put to a gallop toward the 
 fire, the old church-bell rang out an alarm, which 
 aroused every able-bodied man in the village. 
 
 While I stood in the doorway, watching the teams 
 disappear in the rain and haze which were reddened 
 by the light of the distant fire, and was debating with 
 myself whether or not I should run after the other 
 boys, I distinctly heard the thump of a crutch on the 
 floor behind me. There could be no mistake about 
 this, and I at once became conscious that my father 
 was near me, as he was the only man in the village 
 who used a crutch. 
 
 I was proud that I could show my father that his 
 own interest in affairs of state, as well as of local im- 
 portance, were finding a ready second in the person of 
 his son ; but I was also aware of a little inward trem- 
 bling for all that. 
 
 My father was one of those men who could never be
 
 16 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 depended upon beforehand to look at anything in any 
 particular way. Of a very nervous temperament, and 
 made irascible by chronic ailing and loss of property, 
 his views, I often thought, were colored by his feelings ; 
 and as I was an only child, and babied, as the boys say, 
 it occurred to me that he might think this a fitting op- 
 portunity to reduce me to my proper place, as a person 
 of no importance, and, more's the pity, I was right, for 
 hardly had he caught sight of me when he cried : 
 
 "You here? This is no place for a boy on such a 
 night as this. Go home !" 
 
 Why didn't I run before I was discovered ! To say I 
 was vexed would be putting it too mildly. It seemed to 
 me that I was old enough to be allowed some rights, 
 and had about determined to resist parental authority 
 when my father took me by the shoulder, and pushing 
 me, said : 
 
 " March !" 
 
 I went, and felt then as I have felt since, my body 
 move forward, though my spirit rebelled and bade me 
 stay.
 
 "Yin Ml iKiwv. AND I'LL UK A 1 1. -. 1'aye IO.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 When I again came out of the house, although the 
 morning sun was high in the heavens, I noticed that 
 the village was unusually quiet. Everybody seemed 
 to be asleep ; but, without pausing to wonder at the 
 unwonted stillness that reigned all around, I went to 
 the barn and began work on the horses, finishing with 
 my mare ; for I liked to spend all extra time on her. 
 
 In the next house to ours lived Mrs. Atkins, Tommy's 
 mother. Mr. Atkins had died in debt, father said. 
 Consequently, Tommy's mother was compelled to de- 
 pend upon her own exertions for a living, and called 
 upon Tommy to add to the family treasury all he could 
 earn by driving the grocer's wagon, and doing any other 
 light jobs that came in his way. 
 
 Out on all occasions and in all kinds of weather, Tom- 
 my improved a happy faculty for picking up little bits of 
 news, to which his ingenuity and imagination added 
 many interesting details, and therefore, though the 
 youngest boy among us, he was generally the best in- 
 formed as to whatever was of current interest. 
 
 But he was a little too conscious of this superiority, 
 we sometimes thought. We did not like to have to 
 listen to him always. 
 
 Tommy's bedroom window was just opposite the 
 doorway of our barn, and the noise I made over the 
 
 [17]
 
 18 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 horses, and the low whistle I kept up to drive the dust 
 from my mouth must have aroused him, as he appeared 
 suddenly at the stable-door. 
 
 " Hello, Tommy," I cried, on seeing him. 
 
 " Hello yerself. I say, Dan, 'twas too bad yer had to 
 go home. Yer missed all the fun." 
 
 " Did you see it all ?" 
 
 "Did I see it? Wa'n't I out all night?" Tom, in- 
 deed, did look as though he had been out, as he said : 
 " Gosh ! wa'n't it lively, though ?" 
 
 " Well, what was it burnt ?" I asked. 
 
 But Tommy was not going to tell the whole secret 
 or any part of it in a hurry, so he passed over my ques- 
 tion as though he had not heard it. 
 
 "D'yer s'pose I 'd gone home, 'nd left a big red sky 
 like that ? Not much ! It beat all the Fourth -of -July 
 fireworks you ever saw, all holler." 
 
 I was breathless with impatience to hear about it, 
 but saw Tommy had made up his mind to tantalize 
 me, and at the same time show me how much more 
 independent he was than I. It would not do to allow 
 that ; besides, I knew that if let alone he would give me 
 the whole story in time. I said nothing, therefore, but 
 applied myself more closely to my work. I was rub- 
 bing down the mare's hind legs at the time. This gave 
 me a chance, as I bent over, to watch Tommy under 
 my arm, and by saying "Whoa!" now and then I 
 seemed to acquire independence and carelessness, as 
 it were. 
 
 Tommy at first seemed disturbed, because I did not 
 show more enthusiasm, and I became almost afraid 
 that he was going to disappoint me, and go away with- 
 out giving me the news ; but the desire to air some of 
 his knowledge conquered all other inclinations, and, 
 taking up a position on the mealchest, he began :
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 19 
 
 11 Yer know the stranger who read to us. Yer remer- 
 ber him, don't yer ?" 
 
 Of course I remembered him. Was not his face, with 
 its black hair and glittering black eyes, the clearest 
 thing in my mind of all last night's excitement ? But 
 I simply said : 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, he's a brick." Tommy shut his teeth, 
 winked his eyes, and shook his head convincingly. 
 " You know, of course, 'bout his killing the rough ?" 
 
 I was startled from my forced calm, and straighten- 
 ing up stared over the mare's back at Tommy sitting 
 on the chest. Tommy saw his advantage and sneered. 
 
 " Don't even know that, hey ?" I went back to work 
 in a hurry. "Yer a pretty feller to be 'round when 
 there 's anything goin' on." 
 
 " Whoa ! Stand still, can't you ?" said I to the mare. 
 
 " Well, " said Tommy, with a gleam of satisfaction in 
 his eyes, " when we left the tavern the landlord whipped 
 up his horses, and away we went in fine shape, I tell 
 yer." 
 
 " But you weren't in the wagon, were you ?" I asked, 
 remembering distinctly that when the wagon started 
 Tommy and the other boys were afoot. 
 
 " No ; but they hadn 't reached the corner before I 
 was with them." 
 
 " I suppose they needed you," said I, determined to 
 get a fling at Tommy. 
 
 " Of course," answered Tommy indifferently, as if 
 that were a matter about which there ought to be but 
 one opinion, and that further remarks on that subject 
 were unnecessary. " But don't bother me, Dan, if you 
 want to hear what happened." 
 
 ' Go on, then !" I muttered. 
 
 " Well, 's I was sayin', we went off in fine shape. We
 
 20 . THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 picked up some of the mill overseers on the way, and 
 by the time we got clear of the town we had a dozen 
 men in the wagon. My, but it was dark and drizzly 
 when we got into the woods ! Just after we got through 
 them, and came out at the top of the hill, we could see 
 the blaze over the tops of the trees that stood between 
 us and the mill. One of the overseers said : ' It 's the 
 mill, boys, sure enough !' " 
 
 " ' The rascals !' said the landlord, sharp and angry 
 like. ' Keep a sharp eye along the roadside, boys, for 
 two of the meanest skunks that ever went unhung. 
 Don't let 'em get away. It '11 be some satisfaction in 
 running those fellows in.' " 
 
 " ' Better hang 'em,' said Billy, 'and run 'em in after- 
 ward.' 
 
 " A little turn in the road as you reach the mansur 
 house brought us into a full view of the fire, which 
 proved to be " here Tommy began to mount his high 
 horse again " but what are you looking at me in that 
 way for, with your mouth wide open, and your eyes 
 fairly sticking out of your head ?" 
 
 "Stand still there," I cried to the mare. I had to say 
 something to cover my excitement. 
 
 Tommy waited an instant, just to bother me, and then 
 said : 
 
 " Well, it was the" 
 
 " Whoa ! Be quiet !" I shouted to the mare, as 
 Tommy again paused, with a smile at my eagerness to 
 catch every word. 
 
 " The barn. The mill was all right, but the deacon's 
 house was in danger. The barn is close to the house, 
 yer know, and well filled with hay. It made a mighty 
 hot fire. We could hear it roar as the big waves of 
 flame, all edged with a fringe of sparks and smoke, rose 
 high into the air."
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 21 
 
 I had now stopped work and was standing, curry- 
 comb and brush in hand, staring at Tommy. Tommy, 
 warming to the subject, for the moment forgot his 
 superiority, and, not noticing my attitude, continued 
 rapidly : 
 
 " When we turned into the mill road we heard a 
 couple of explosions. Some of the men said 't was 
 powder in the barn ; others said 't was more like the 
 crack of a rifle. When we reached the house we saw 
 the stranger, the deacon and 'a couple of his men 
 throwin' water on blankets hung on the side of the 
 house nearest the barn. Edith and the servant girl 
 were there, helpin' carry water from the well to the 
 house. 
 
 " Our comin' was a lucky job for them, for they were 
 all tuckered out. In a few minutes the old hand-engine 
 arrived, the suction-pipe was lowered into the well, the 
 breaks were manned, and when the leadin* hosemen got 
 a stream on the fire they began to get the best of it. 
 
 "By George," said Tommy, as the whole scene 
 seemed to come into his mind, " what a sight that was 
 and how we all shouted when the flames died down and 
 we knew the house was saved ! 
 
 " After the fire was all out the deacon opened a barrel 
 of cider and everybody drank his fill." 
 
 " Did they get the horses out ?" 
 
 " Yes, got 'em all out. Ah, I thought there was some- 
 thin' else. The explosions we heard " here Tommy 
 looked at me, as if meditating another triumph. 
 
 But I was ready for him, and had resumed work on 
 the mare. 
 
 " The explosions were caused by the stranger's firin' 
 at the two roughs who attacked the deacon at the 
 tavern." 
 
 " Did he hit them ?"
 
 22 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " You bet he did," replied Tommy. " He killed one 
 of 'em stone dead, and he hurt the other so he couldn't 
 get away, and we brought him back with us." 
 
 " What were they trying to do ?" 
 
 " Set fire to the house, of course. They 'd piled a lot 
 of straw against the rear of the house, and with a card 
 of lighted matches were goin' to set fire to it when the 
 stranger, who 'd been watchin' 'em and was all ready, 
 up and fired. The ball passed right through the neck 
 of one feller and broke his spine, so he died at once. 
 The other one was hit in the leg and fell, so they cap- 
 tured him. He 's an ugly feller, that rough ; but they '11 
 fix him now." 
 
 Just here Mrs. Atkins called : " Tommy !" Tommy 
 heard her and said : 
 
 "But perhaps you haven't been interested in what 
 I 've been tellin'. Look at yourself." 
 
 I did not look at myself, and I did not want Tommy 
 to go away without telling me the rest, for I was inter- 
 ested to know if there was anything more, so I said : 
 
 " Anything else happen ?" 
 
 " Can't stop any longer. There 's mother callin' and 
 I 'm late to work as 't is." 
 
 Tommy sprang down from the chest and started 
 home on the run ; but as he was passing out of the door 
 an idea seized him and, catching hold of the door-post 
 with one hand, he swung the upper part of his body into 
 the barn. 
 
 " Say ! Come round to the store this afternoon, and 
 if I 'm there I '11 tell you the rest." 
 
 He winked one eye at me and grinned. I let the 
 currycomb fly at him, but he dodged it easily, disap- 
 peared, and in a moment I heard his feet strike the 
 ground on his side of the fence.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Daniel, come to breakfast !" 
 
 It was my mother calling from the kitchen door. 
 
 As I entered the house, mother, who was taking break- 
 fast from the stove, turned to say : 
 
 " Don't make any noise, Daniel. Father didn't sleep 
 much last night, and he 's abed now." 
 
 " Is he sick ?" I asked, knowing the contrary, but hop- 
 ing she would tell me what I had failed to learn from 
 Tommy. 
 
 " No ; but news was brought last night that Fort 
 Sumter had been fired upon. Deacon Miller's barn was 
 also burned. There were great doings in the village 
 last night." 
 
 " I know that," I said, taking a seat at the table ; 
 " but what about the stranger and the man he killed ?" 
 
 Mother was just stooping over the stove with a towel 
 in her hand to open the oven door for the potatoes, but 
 hearing my question, she straightened up and looked at 
 me with astonishment. 
 
 " Why, Daniel, this all happened in the night." 
 
 She did not know that I had been out at all a bit of 
 evidence that father must have been thinking of some- 
 thing else when he came in or he would have told her. 
 
 " Who told you about it ?" 
 
 [23]
 
 24 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 "Tommy Atkins," I replied. "He came over this 
 morning when I was cleaning the horses, and told me 
 all about it ; besides, I was in the village part of the 
 time, myself." 
 
 " You were ? I did not hear you come in," she said, 
 and bent over the stove again. Breakfast was soon 
 upon the table, and by the time we began to eat, a door 
 opened and father appeared. 
 
 I expected to be scolded, and watched him from the 
 corners of my eyes. He looked tired and cross, and 
 the moment he noticed me he was evidently reminded 
 of where he had found me last night. "Look here, 
 young man," he said, harshly, " it is time for you to be 
 in bed at two o'clock in the morning." 
 
 " But, father "I objected. 
 
 " No ' but ' about it, sir. I don't, and what's more, I 
 won't have any more of these goings-on." 
 
 " He did not think you wouldn't like it," interposed 
 mother. 
 
 " Didn't think he 'd no business to think. Why, I 
 found him at the tavern wet through, just as the tavern 
 keeper with his big wagon and half a dozen men were 
 starting for the fire. A minute more and he 'd been off 
 with them, as big as you please. Look here, young 
 man " father always began with this phrase when he 
 wanted to reprove me " you Ve got to grow before 
 you 11 be of much account." 
 
 " Dan'l wanted to see what was going on, I suppose. 
 You must remember, father, we were all children 
 once." 
 
 " That is all very true, but no excuse," and while he 
 was saying this, he leaned his crutch against the wall 
 and slowly lowered himself into his chair at the table. 
 Hardly had he turned around and faced us, before the 
 crutch fell with a crash to the floor.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 25 
 
 He jumped in his chair as though a pistol had been 
 fired, and turning, looked at the fallen crutch as if it 
 had been a dog ready to bite him. This seemed so 
 funny that I would have laughed, vexed as I was, if a 
 scared, troubled look on mother's face had not stopped 
 me ; the look made me realize that father's nerves were 
 all unstrung with disease and trouble and sleeplessness, 
 and that he was not himself. 
 
 But the unfavorable view he had taken of my pres- 
 ence in the tavern the night before and the way he had 
 talked to me about it had driven all desire for news 
 out of my mind, and turning my attention to the break- 
 fast, I discovered I was quite hungry. 
 
 Not so with my father ; nothing seemed to please him. 
 The beef was too tough, the coffee too hot, or the 
 potatoes too soggy. " Why can't we have as good beef 
 here as in the city ?" was a standing question with 
 him. 
 
 He was never satisfied with the meat to be had, and 
 every time he returned from his periodical trip to the 
 city he had a great deal to say about it. Mother always 
 bore all this complaining patiently. It must have hurt 
 her feelings, yet she did not seem to mind it much, or 
 else I did not see it. Her face in these years had 
 always a careworn expression, and her eyes the same 
 watchful look that was in them when I was recovering 
 from the scarlet fever. 
 
 Father finally pushed away his plate, remarking, as 
 he did so : " Oh, I don't want anything. I 'm not 
 hungry." Yet he had eaten half of what he had helped 
 himself to. 
 
 " I hope Deacon Miller feels well this morning ," he 
 said, after a pause. 
 
 " Why, he was not hurt much last night, was he ?" 
 asked mother, a little anxiously.
 
 26 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 I began to be interested again, but knew enough to 
 keep quiet and let them talk, undisturbed. 
 
 " Hurt, no ; but he 's lost a pretty figure by the fire ; 
 and to a man who loves money as he does, it 's enough 
 to make him sick. It's lucky for him the stranger 
 happened around as he did ; he'd have lost his house, 
 and the mill, too, for aught I know. Well, he's got 
 money enough he can stand it." 
 
 " Yes, father ; but think of the people depending 
 upon that mill for their bread and butter." 
 
 " Of course, I 'd be sorry for the mill people," said 
 father ; " but I haven't any sympathy for the deacon. 
 He has none for me. He '11 foreclose on this property 
 the first chance he gets, and there 's no need of his 
 being so grasping. His clerk told us yesterday that 
 he 'd more orders on hand than he could fill for a 
 month." 
 
 Father waited for mother to speak, but she only 
 looked worried, and said : 
 
 " I am sorry for Mrs. Miller." 
 
 "Sorry for Mrs. Miller? Yes; I suppose you are. 
 That 's just like a woman. Do you suppose she 'd be 
 sorry for you if the deacon foreclosed to-day ?" 
 
 " Yes, I do," said mother, bravely. 
 
 " Oh, you do ? Well, I don't. There 's no difference 
 in them. They 're all in the same boat deacon, wife, 
 Edith and all grasping, grasping, getting all they can 
 out of everybody." 
 
 " You ought not to be so hard on the deacon," said 
 mother. " He loaned you money when you needed it, 
 and it 's not his fault that you have been sick and that 
 things have gone wrong with you. Don't fret, father ; 
 things will come out all right when you get well. What 
 started the row at the tavern ?" 
 
 " Why, the deacon was talking about the war what
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 27 
 
 secession meant, how the price of everything would go 
 up, and how long it would be before manufacturers 
 could pay any more for help than they were paying 
 now. That was about all he had to say when one of 
 the roughs jumped up and, running to the deacon, 
 shaking his fist in his face, said : 
 
 " ' I know you, Deacon Miller ! Yer a slick, palaverin', 
 lazy aristercrat, too lazy to do anything yerself, an' too 
 mean an' stingy to want an honest laborin' man paid 
 full wages for an honest day's work. Yer always rob- 
 bin' somebody an' tellin' 'em yer a frien', an' I tell yer 
 yer lie !' 
 
 " Just then he pulled a pistol from his pocket and 
 pointed it at the deacon. Wentworth, who was stand- 
 ing close by at the time, knocked the pistol up just as 
 the fellow fired. Another rough companion to the 
 fellow who fired the pistol jumped for Wentworth, 
 and in a minute there was some pretty tall fighting. 
 It didn't last long, for no sooner had some one 
 shouted: 'Murder!' than the stranger rushed in like 
 a mad bull and put an end to it all. The tavern-keeper 
 told me after he came back from the fire this morning 
 that the stranger killed one of these two men just as 
 they were firing the deacon's house, and that he shot 
 the other, wounding him so he was captured, and he 's 
 now in the calaboose. But that don't matter much. 
 Those fellows deserved putting out of the way, both of 
 them. The thing we now have to face is war a war 
 that has come to stay until the cause has been washed 
 out by blood. Civil war," said my father, dropping his 
 voice to a meditative tone. " Civil war ; grim-visaged, 
 fratricidal, terrible. But," turning suddenly to me, 
 " aren't you going to do any work this morning ?" 
 
 "The chores are done, the horses cleaned and the 
 stable put to rights," said mother, interfering.
 
 28 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " It 's a wonder," said father, disappointedly. 
 
 "You are not going to the mill to- day, are you, 
 father ?" asked mother. " I wouldn't." 
 
 " I don't believe I will. But that grain must go up 
 the river to-day. That must be done. Here, Daniel, 
 you take the double team and carry it yourself. Be 
 sure that Granger gives you a receipt for the right 
 weight. There's more than I usually carry in. Tell 
 him there '11 be less next week." 
 
 " All right," I said, and left the room ; but he could 
 not let me go without a parting shot, and shouted 
 after me : 
 
 " Look here, young man, I don't want any mistake 
 about this. It must go to-day." 
 
 I hurried off. I could see before me a pleasant drive, 
 and a chance to hear what the people thought of the 
 
 war. v 
 
 ******* 
 
 It had come. That crisis which the wise had fore- 
 told, and which the thoughtful, earnest few looked for- 
 ward to as a means to the end they desired ; that reality 
 which the great body of conservative, well-fed, unsus- 
 pecting populace had pooh-poohed at, and refused to 
 believed in, had come at last. War, with all its hor- 
 rors, was at the door. 
 
 The little fleecy cloud that had crept up above the 
 nation's horizon, unperceived by any one but the most 
 weather-wise, had suddenly taken on enormous pro- 
 portions, and become terribly visible to all. Broad, 
 black and ominous, it covered the whole heavens, preg- 
 nant with rain and hail, hiding, in its shadow, de- 
 structive winds. 
 
 I, as a boy, lying at ease upon a wagon-load of grain, 
 as my two horses plodded slowly along the river bank 
 that pleasant spring morning, felt something of the
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 29 
 
 excitement in my blood, looked at the approaching 
 tempest with steady, curious eyes, and waited some- 
 what impatiently, not knowing the frightful power be- 
 hind it, for the first tangible signs that it was a re- 
 ality; a fearful fact and no empty though exciting 
 dream.
 
 PART IL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Three years have passed since first the country 
 responded to the call to arms ; three years since first 
 was raised the cry of " On to Richmond ;" since the 
 setting in of that tide of war, which has ebbed and 
 flowed along the coast and rivers of the South and 
 among her mountains, on the plains and valleys of the 
 Mississippi, of Tennessee and of Virginia ; which has 
 broken over Maryland into Pennsylvania and rolled 
 along northward until it threatened to submerge 
 Washington and Baltimore ; three years of fatiguing 
 toilsome march ; of camp, of bivouac and of battle. 
 Hundred of thousands of brave men have bared their 
 breasts as a bulwark for the cause they loved. Tens of 
 thousands have been swept resistlessly onward to die 
 upon the field of battle, to languish in some gloomy, 
 far-off hospital or pestilential prison pen. Again and 
 again have the voice and bloody arms of war been 
 raised for men, more men. 
 
 The lines are more contracted, but the battle cloud 
 that has hung so long in the southern horizon has not 
 yet lifted ; the smoke and gleam from a country 
 ravaged and burning has not yet faded away ; there is 
 no near prospect of peace from the shock of battle. 
 [30]
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 31 
 
 The North is determined, strong ; the South is de- 
 fiant, desperate. 
 
 Three years next month old Joe roused Waytown 
 with the cry of "War." Since then how changed the 
 village grew. So changed and strange I did not care 
 to stay there. 
 
 Seventy-five thousand men were called for, and my 
 comrades, all who could, enlisted. Almost everybody 
 said : " Pshaw ! the war will soon be over ;" but when we 
 received the report of the attack upon the Sixth Massa- 
 chusetts regiment in Baltimore, and soon afterward 
 news of the fight at Bull Run, our people began to 
 realize that war was really at the door, and that, per- 
 haps, it would be long and bloody. 
 
 In a few days a pine box, large enough to hold a man, 
 came in on the train. 
 
 The whole village knew it almost instantly. 
 
 " Who is it ?" somebody whispers. 
 
 " Mike Clancy, one of the volunteers from Miller's 
 factory." 
 
 Then a half dozen Irishmen called for the pine box 
 and carried it away to the north end of the town. 
 
 The next day a funeral, with many over-crowded 
 wagons and raw-boned, knock-kneed horses crawled 
 slowly down Main street out of the village to the 
 Catholic graveyard on the hill. 
 
 No one thought of the shabby, strung-out pomp. It 
 was a soldier's funeral, the first offering of our village 
 on the country's altar. 
 
 A cheap cotton, star-spangled banner gleamed through 
 the glass sides of the hearse. 
 
 Children, barefooted and bareheaded, stood by the 
 gateways or climbed the road-side fence to watch with 
 wide-open, calm but wondering eyes the sad procession. 
 The busy housewife forgot for a moment her morning
 
 32 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 cares and from her windows watched it crawling by. 
 She saw it climb the hill, pass through the graveyard 
 gate, and turned away with apron to her eyes. Farmers 
 suspended work, and with rake or hoe in hand watched 
 it in silence out of sight. 
 
 Months passed, and the people grew silent, anxious 
 and impatient. Newspapers were eagerly scanned and 
 passed from hand to hand. 
 
 The Ball's Bluff battle was reported. 
 
 Many faces in Waytown turned pale, for " our boys " 
 were there. And in the next few days, " He is dead," 
 " He is wounded," " He, too, is dead," were the sad 
 whispers which passed from mouth to mouth. Billy 
 Green and Baker, the sadler, were shot there, and Joe 
 Bentley, the big-hearted, big-bodied blacksmith's son, 
 was wounded. 
 
 These dead were not sent home, and all that the 
 fathers and mothers could say to inquiring friends was 
 that their comrades have written us how Billy stood 
 to the first shock like a man ; how, almost immediately 
 after it, he was seen to drop, never to rise again ; how, 
 near the end of the fight, Baker was seen standing with 
 the rest, waiting for the charge, with blood running 
 from his cheek and from his shoulder, two places where 
 bullets had hit him ; and how, after the charge, when 
 the rebels had fled and the smoke had lifted a little, he 
 was found, dead. This was all they knew, all we could 
 learn of the men of our village sent out to the war. Two, 
 at least, Baker and little Billy, would never return. 
 
 Thus the war became a more personal matter while 
 such news was going the rounds a struggle not to be 
 fought out by strangers and to end soon in hurrahs and 
 holidays, but a reckless, hand-to-hand conflict, which 
 threatened to draw every one, man, woman and child, 
 in some way into the vortex of strife.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 33 
 
 From the faces of the men around me I saw hope 
 fading, to give place to a settled, anxious but determined 
 look, while the cheeks of anxious women, of widows 
 and of fatherless children, were pale and tear-stained. 
 
 After months more of waiting Joe Bentley came 
 limping home, pale and weak, having been for a long 
 time in the hospital, recovering from an amputa- 
 tion. 
 
 Old man Bentley had mounted his big horse long ago 
 and ridden off to the South, and now, at long intervals, 
 his daughter for he had no wife would get letters 
 from him, saying that he was making a dash into the 
 enemy's country or quietly shoeing horses. 
 
 With Joe and his father both away, the blacksmith's 
 shop had been left to itself. Across the dingy win- 
 dows spiders had spun their dusty webs undisturbed ; 
 the big loose-jointed double doors, which Mr. Bentley 
 had swung groaning to, on the day he rode away, were 
 now as he had left them, closed and barred, and through 
 the many cracks and crevices in them you could see, in 
 the dim twilight which reigned there, no matter how 
 bright the sunlight might be outside, the forge, grim, 
 dirty and cold ; the big bellows, collapsed and gray 
 with dust ; the noisy hammer, now lying silent, across 
 the anvil where the blacksmith had left it. 
 
 Nor was the appearance of the adjoining house, 
 where the daughter and her aunt lived awaiting the 
 return of father and brother, scarcely less gloomy, with 
 its green blinds carefully closed, and the sparkling 
 whiteness of its walls staring out cold and lifeless 
 from the shadow of the waving trees above. 
 
 When Joe appeared in Waytown he seemed to have 
 grown suddenly much older, and his face, though tired 
 and worn, looked nobler and wiser. The village folk 
 would never have grown tired of asking him questions
 
 34 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 if he had cared to answer, but he had no stories to tell 
 them. 
 
 I remember that Parson Slim once asked him what 
 he thought of the war. 
 
 " Parson," said Joe, harshly, with no reverence in his 
 voice, and pointing to his stump of a leg, " it is a hard 
 fact," and he turned and limped away. 
 
 Joe soon got strong again, and the forge was no 
 longer deserted. The big double doors were thrown 
 wide open, letting in the daylight ; the bellows groaned 
 and wheezed ; a bed of live coals sparkled and glowed 
 in the center of the forge so lately cold and grim ; 
 sparks flew out from the red-hot iron, and once more 
 the sharp ring of the anvil, under the heavy blows of 
 Joe's hammer, sounded along the quiet street. 
 
 Tommy Atkins and I were the only boys of our 
 crowd left. Perhaps Joe felt more friendly to us be- 
 cause we had been so much together before the begin- 
 ning of the war. At any rate, however silent he was 
 with others regarding the scenes he had taken part in, 
 he seemed quite willing to tell us about them when 
 there were no others about. 
 
 Often in the long dark winter twilight, when his 
 work was done we three met by the side of the forge, 
 and he told us of war and its horrors. As the twilight 
 deepened and the night closed in, war seemed to over- 
 shadow us also ; and while Joe went on, I could hear 
 the drums and the trumpets. I saw woods sparkling 
 with the flash of rifles, and with clouds of smoke drift- 
 ing off through the trees. I saw the grassy plain 
 strewn with the dead and wounded and the earth red 
 with blood. 
 
 Did I fear war ? Was I afraid to go ? I think not ; 
 but I did see more clearly, and began to realize the hard 
 fact that the highway to a soldier's glory leads through
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. H5 
 
 the valley of the shadow of death. Thus the first flush 
 of enthusiasm left me, and I began to look on war as a 
 business, for I was still resolved to go, if, when I grew 
 old enough to enlist, the fight was still on, resolved that 
 no one should point a finger at me, when the struggle 
 was over, and ask, ' And where were you all this 
 time you who had the opportunity ? Why didn't you 
 go?" 
 
 But my father would not hear of my going. War 
 was banished from all conversation at home, and I was 
 forced to wait in silence, with the echoes of battle shouts 
 and of rattling drums ringing in my ears. 
 
 But the excitement of those times, so powerful over 
 every one, combined with Deacon Miller's foreclosing the 
 mortgage he held on our property, affected my father's 
 health very sadly. He became quite ill and took to his 
 bed. We could see that he was failing day by day ; 
 doctors and nursing were of no avail, and we, mother 
 and I, were forced to watch his decline, helpless, until, 
 at the end of March, about a year after the firing on 
 Fort Sumter, he passed away. 
 
 A sad time that was for u~. the spring of 1862. Many 
 and heavy were the cares that were thrust upon my 
 young shoulders, under the ever increasing burden of 
 which I must struggle on for the rest of my days, but 
 in those stirring times no one could remain long a boy. 
 
 By the end of September, 1863, our affairs in Way- 
 town having been settled, and with barely enough to 
 meet the expense, we were ready to leave for Kentucky, 
 where mother intended to live with her sister. The 
 war was still going on, and I was old enough to enlist. 
 How eagerly I longed for the departure !
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 We arrived at my uncle's place in Kentucky after a 
 tedious trip in the cars. Delay, delay at every turn, 
 especially when we came near our destination, explain- 
 able only from the tumultuous nature of the times and 
 the moving across our way of troops and provision 
 trains. 
 
 We were getting into the domain of war, and as its 
 spirit took possession of me the sorrows of my private 
 life faded away. 
 
 Mr. Nichols my uncle's family consisted of himself 
 and wife, both much older than my mother, and an 
 adopted daughter, Mary. There were two sons, Charlie 
 and Fred, each of whom had shouldered his musket and 
 departed at the beginning of the war, and neither had, 
 as yet, returned. From the last of Fred's letters, which 
 came at rare intervals, they judged that he was, about 
 the time mother and I arrived at his home, somewhere 
 in Eastern Kentucky or Tennessee. Of Charlie, the 
 elder, they had heard almost nothing since the first year 
 of the war. He disappeared in a battle, and all search 
 for him having been given up for a long time, they 
 came to think him as dead. Judge of their surprise, 
 however, when a half-demented tramp, wandering aim- 
 lessly through the village, brought word that Charlie 
 [36] *
 
 , THE GUN-BEARER. 37 
 
 was a prisoner. As may be imagined, much of the 
 time after my arrival was spent in trying to devise 
 some means of determining Charlie's whereabouts, so 
 that they might get word to him in case he was suffer- 
 ing, and do all they could to relieve him. This did not 
 prove to be an easy matter, and they finally concluded 
 to wait until Fred came home, as his three years of ser- 
 vice had about expired. We were, therefore, looking 
 impatiently forward to his return, as he would be likely 
 to know, better than any one, how to go to work to find 
 his brother. In the meantime, I was making prepara- 
 tions in secret for entering the service, and cogitating 
 the best way to do so. 
 
 But while waiting for the time to come when I should 
 be ready to depart, I could not help feeling that this 
 going away would not be the easy matter I had once 
 thought it. 
 
 How could I say good-by to the good, kind mother 
 with the tears in her eyes that I knew would come, and 
 how could I bring myself to turn my back on this pleas- 
 ant, hospitable home ? How would I feel when, taking 
 Mary by the hand and looking into her eyes, I should 
 try to say good-by, knowing that it might be good-by 
 forever ? The more I thought of it the more difficult 
 did it appear, until I became at last disgusted with my- 
 self. I was thinking too much of Mary's handsome face 
 and her sweet voice. 
 
 In the early morning, when the sun was bright and 
 everything was glaring and unrornantic, I suffered 
 from the consciousness of having been a fool the day 
 before, and determined to be one no longer. I decided 
 that I would attend to business for that day at least. 
 
 After breakfast I strolled down the street and watched 
 the long trains bearing soldiers and supplies to the front. 
 At noon I returned for luncheon, and after it strolled
 
 38 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 tip to Fred's room with my pipe, for I was a smoker 
 now. Mary would, of course, appear there ; but how 
 could I help it, I asked myself. I was not obliged to 
 shun her ; besides, her presence was very agreeable to 
 me. She generally brought some of Fred's letters, 
 and the two or three that Charlie had sent home, and 
 we read them there together, she explaining what the 
 letters left unsaid, and telling me about the country, 
 for she had been through and was familiar with that 
 section ; and so, however strong my determination had 
 been in the morning, by dinner time, which came on 
 the edge of evening, I was as much under her control 
 as ever, and when we went for a walk afterward 
 my hopes and plans were almost forgotten, and I re- 
 membered only at long intervals that over there beyond 
 the moonlit hills were fire and smoke and blood and duty. 
 
 I went to bed to dream of her, and awoke next morn- 
 ing to the same round of savage resolution, battle and 
 defeat. 
 
 At length Fred arrived, travel-stained, sun-tanned 
 and hungry. But what stories he had to tell stories 
 to make us laugh, stories to make us weep and stories 
 that made the blood tingle in my veins ! I could see 
 how proud the father was of his son, and the mother 
 too, despite her tears ; and Mary what would I not 
 have given to bring for myself such a look of interest 
 into her dear face. 
 
 One morning, soon after Fred's arrival, I found him 
 in the barn, enjoying a quiet smoke. 
 
 "Well, Fred, what are you going to do?" I asked, 
 striking a match on a post to light my pipe. 
 
 " I 'm going back ; I don't feel at home here, and so 
 much going on down yonder." 
 
 " Why, I thought your time was up ? Are you going 
 to re-enlist ?"
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 39 
 
 " I have already re-enlisted," he replied. " You see, 
 most of our fellows were awfully tired of tramping. 
 We had been at it three years pretty steady, so when 
 they asked us to veteranize, we said we would, if they 
 would agree to give us horses, make us cavalry, or 
 mounted infantry." 
 
 "Are they going to ?" I asked. 
 
 " I don't know about that. They promised to, so we 
 veteranized ; that is, re-enlisted." 
 
 " Then it is all settled. You are going back ?" 
 
 " Yes," said .Fred. " This is only a furlough of thirty 
 days. They 'don't know it in there," motioning toward 
 the house, " and how I am going to tell them without 
 having a scene I hardly know. 'T was a terrible scene 
 indeed when Charlie and I went off. I don't want to go 
 through it again." 
 
 " Well, what am I going to do ? I 'm going into this 
 thing." 
 
 Fred looked at me, his mouth opening in surprise. 
 
 "Why what you are too young !" 
 
 " That 's all right. I 'm not too young. I 'm big 
 enough, and it 's no use to say no. My mind is made up." 
 
 " Now, don't be in a hurry, Dan," said Fred, looking 
 serious. " This a bad business." 
 
 " That 's all very true ; but what am I to do ? You 
 know as well as I that there are younger fellows in the 
 army." 
 
 Fred nodded assent. 
 
 " Then that is no reason why they wouldn't take me. 
 I want to go-7-have been wanting to go ever since the 
 war began, but I could never get the chance. Now 
 mother 's with her friends, I 'm going to skip, if I have 
 to do it when they are not looking." 
 
 " Better not do that. They '11 let you go if you stick 
 to it. After all, if you 've made up your mind, it would
 
 40 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 be best to let you go. They '11 see it in that light, only 
 there '11 be the usual amount of crying." 
 
 " I suppose there will ; but it can't be helped." 
 
 " But think a moment, Dan ; there are many sides to 
 this thing. A bullet through your lungs or liver or 
 heart or your head torn open with a shell, isn't the 
 worst of it. Camp life isn't all that it 's cracked up to 
 be. And then the endless tramps !" 
 
 I shuddered, but did not waver. 
 
 " But you say you are to have horses. Why couldn't 
 I go with you ? Wouldn't they take me ?" 
 
 " Why, yes, and it 's a good regiment to join, but it 's 
 not so sure that we are to have Horses. They said so, 
 and there '11 be a row if we don't ; but we may not get 
 them, after all. But if we do, there 's the camp and 
 the mud and wet and disease and wounds and prisons. 
 There 's much to be thought of." 
 
 " And I Ve thought of it. Why did your regiment 
 go in, if they once got out of it ? For the thirteen dollars 
 a month ?" 
 
 Fred scratched his head and answered : 
 
 " It 's hard telling what most of us joined again for. 
 I suppose most of us couldn't stay away if we tried. 
 The thirteen dollars had mighty little to do with it. A 
 fellow don't stand up to be shot at for thirteen dollars 
 a month, if that 's the end of it." 
 
 " But somebody must have found a reason. What 
 did they say ?" I asked, pressing the point. 
 
 " Most of 'em said they were not going to quit now ; 
 they would see it through. One man, when asked if 
 he was going to put his name down, said : ' Yes, if I 
 was out, I couldn't stay out while this thing is going 
 on.' One fellow, who lost his two brothers on picket 
 at Stone River, said : ' I owe the Johnnies something, 
 and I'm going to stay to pay it.' One man came out of
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 41 
 
 the hospital and put his name down. I heard another 
 man say he re-enlisted because the others did ; but 
 perhaps the greatest sacrifice of all was that made 
 by Eli Norcross. His mother is old and feeble in 
 health; his wife and children poor, and looking with 
 hope and* longing for his return to their midst. 
 The boys all watched him as he came forward ; with 
 the perspiration starting from his face. His hand 
 trembled a little as he leaned over the roll, but he 
 signed." 
 
 " These fellows know all there is in it ; they don't 
 hesitate. I want my share. Now don't try to persuade 
 me not to go," I said, noting Fred was about to speak ; 
 " my mind is made up to that ; but help me to go away 
 easily." 
 
 "All right, I will, Dan. After all, you wouldn't be 
 much of a chap if you did not want to go. I was not 
 as old as you when I went. Now, what do you know 
 about handling a gun ?" 
 
 " O, I know a little. There were few boys East who 
 could not go through the manual of arms with a broom, 
 and I learned it with the rest." 
 
 " That 's good, you 've got the motions, eh ? Well, 
 now, I will get a musket somewhere and help you a 
 little, for even if we have horses, it won't hurt you to 
 know how to handle a gun; and if we 're made cavalry, 
 we Ve all to learn to drill." 
 
 We kept silence about our plans and went to work. 
 A musket was obtained and kept hidden in the barn, 
 except in the morning when no one was around. Then 
 it made its appearance, and I went through the drill at 
 the bidding of Fred. He seemed to take delight in 
 teaching me ; whether his mind was on such things, and 
 this gave him an opportunity to relieve his pent-up 
 feelings, or whether he tortured himself for my benefit,
 
 42 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 I do not know. At any rate, in a very short time I 
 grew accustomed to handling the gun. 
 
 Meanwhile, all knowledge of our doings was kept a 
 profound secret. We were going to put off telling the 
 folks until two or three days before the time should 
 come for us to leave, as we did not wish the time for 
 grief and tears spread out any more than was necesary. 
 
 I had been going through this exercise daily more 
 than a week, when one morning, while we were hard at 
 it, and more than ever oblivious to everything else, 
 something was wanted of Fred at the house and he 
 was called for. As no answer came to repeated calls, it 
 occurred to Mary that she had seen him strolling to- 
 ward the barn a short time before, and starting out to 
 find him, caught us at work. 
 
 I was not quite as quick as usual ; at any rate Fred 
 found fault at the slow time I made loading the gun. 
 
 He was saying : " That 's too slow," taking the gun. 
 " It goes to count like this one, two, three, four," 
 speaking quickly. " So now, then," handing it back to 
 me, "try it again." 
 
 As he stepped back to give me room I saw Mary 
 standing in the doorway behind him. The light was at 
 her back, so that I could not see her face. 
 
 " Fred," she said, in a soft, sad voice, "mother wants 
 you." 
 
 I felt that she knew all. And when, after Fred left 
 us, she came up to me, I could see that her face was 
 pale, that her lips quivered and that tears were trem- 
 bling on her eyelids. 
 
 " You are going to the war," she said, laying her soft 
 little hand on my arm. 
 
 The blood rushed to my face, my heart seemed to 
 come up into my throat, and for the first time I felt 
 sorry for the step I was taking, realized what I was
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 43 
 
 breaking- away from. But it was only for an instant, 
 although it took all my strength away and forced me to 
 sit down. Mary took a seat beside me. 
 
 "And Fred is going, too," she sobbed, turning her 
 face away. 
 
 I took one of her hands and drew her a little toward 
 me without her noticing it. My voice was scarcely 
 steadier than hers when I began, although it grew 
 stronger. 
 
 " Yes, Mary, we are both going. Fred, although he 
 did not tell you, re-enlisted before he left his regiment. 
 He could not stay, and when he goes to join his regi- 
 ment I 'm going with him." 
 
 " And you would not tell us, Dan !" she said, reproach- 
 fully. 
 
 " It would have done no good. If we had, the fact 
 would have spoiled Fred's furlough. We were going to 
 keep quiet until two or three days before the time came 
 for us to leave." 
 
 Mary could not stop her tears. I was beside myself, 
 not knowing how to comfort her. I felt as if I had done 
 her an injury, drew her closer to me and tried my best 
 to change the current of her thoughts. We began 
 again to talk, and, once started, I could not stop until I 
 had told her everything. Many things I said that I had 
 never expected to say to her. 
 
 The sun was shining brightly that pleasant day. The 
 dry and withered grass seemed just beginning to turn 
 green, I thought. The air, the sky, the distant woods 
 and hills seemed just ready to burst into the beauties of 
 spring. My own life seemed rather strange, as my eyes 
 wandered from the quiet village outside to Mary's head 
 with its sunny, waving hair, resting upon my shoulder. 
 Yet I never wavered in my purpose to take my musket 
 in hand and depart when the time should come.
 
 44 
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 In the sweet, sad days that followed Mary gave no 
 sign to the others of what Fred and I had in view ; 
 only her eyes were sometimes red in the morning, as if 
 she had been crying, and once in a while I found her 
 sitting silent, her hands, from which the work had 
 fallen, folded in her lap, and her eyes dim and blank. 
 
 But we were more together now than before. I did 
 not try to avoid her any longer. There was a promise 
 between us, that if I escaped the clutches of war I was 
 to call for her. She would wait for me. 
 
 So these little scenes of comedy and tragedy were 
 enacted in and around that Kentucky home, and yet 
 unnoticed ; hours of drill in the use of the gun in the 
 morning ; long walks or drives with Mary in the after- 
 noon when the weather was pleasant. 
 
 But the time came when they had to be told the 
 fathers and mothers, I mean. Fred and I came off 
 victorious from the struggle ; but let me pass over it 
 in silence. 
 
 Two days later came the hour of parting. It was a 
 dark and dismal time, especially for me. Fred had 
 been anxious for the time to come. True, he was leav- 
 ing home, but he was going back to the camp of old 
 companions, to scenes he had grown to love. I was 
 going into a new country, to new scenes, regions of 
 death and horror, leaving behind me home, pleasures, 
 love all for what ? 
 
 At that time I could find no answer to this question. 
 But I would not turn back, and Fred and I departed, 
 going south.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 About two o'clock in the afternoon of the following 
 day we reached Lebanon, a large town at the terminus 
 of the railway. The houses were old, dirty and dust- 
 covered ; the streets were thick with a fine yellow dust 
 which the feet of hundreds of mule teams and the 
 wheels of army wagons were grinding still finer and 
 throwing into the air until it was loaded with a yellow 
 haze that filled the lungs and settled like a mantle upon 
 everything. 
 
 At the quartermaster's department we learned that a 
 train was about to leave for our point of rendezvous on 
 the Cumberland River. We started out to find the 
 train, but it was almost sundown, and we were just 
 about to give up the search when a voice from a pass- 
 ing wagon hailed us : 
 
 " Hi, Fred, hello there ! Whoa ! Where you going ? 
 Here, this way !" 
 
 Looking through the clouds of dust in the direction 
 of the voice we saw a man standing on a wagon tongue, 
 leaning over the back of a mule, and gesticulating 
 frantically. 
 
 " Come here !" said the voice through the dust. 
 
 "Who is it, Fred," I asked. 
 
 "It looks like Jack Maddox," answered Fred; "but 
 
 [45]
 
 46 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 he 's so thickly covered with this infernal dust that his 
 own mother would not know him. Let's see," said he, 
 walking toward him. 
 
 1 followed and soon saw Fred grasp the fellow by the 
 hand, and heard him say : 
 
 'Jack, I would not have known you for dirt." 
 
 " Well, there 's a heap of dirt here for sure, but it 's 
 better than mud. Goin' back to the company ?" 
 
 " Yes. But what are you doing here, driving a team ? 
 Haven't left the company, have you ?" 
 
 " Yes. You see, Fred, the horses haven't come, and 
 it didn't look to me as if they ever would. I 'm sick of 
 tramping, so when this chance opened in the quarter- 
 master's department I got the detail." 
 
 " Like it ?" Fred asked. 
 
 " Like it ! Well, I don't like it so well as I should like 
 to be with the boys if they were made mounted infantry. 
 One horse is easier to take care of than half a dozen ugly 
 mules. But things don't look first-rate for the horses, 
 and I'm not goin' to take any chances ; 'sides, I get bet- 
 ter feed where I am, sleep in the wagon, and don't have 
 to tramp and carry everything on my back." 
 
 " There is no doubt about our horses, is there?" 
 
 u They haven't come yet," and Jack shrugged his 
 shoulders. 
 
 " What do they say about it ?" Fred asked. 
 
 " I heard one of the officers say t'other day that Gen- 
 eral Potter had promised in writing that horses would 
 be furnished and the regiment should be mounted." 
 
 " There is no danger but what they '11 get 'em, Jack ; 
 they would not get us in under promise of giving horses 
 and then back out." 
 
 " Well, I hope they will ; but I am trusting Jack Mad- 
 dox, just now. But," he said, lowering his voice, and 
 looking toward me, " who 's that with you ?"
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 47 
 
 " That 's my cousin. Here, Dan," said Fred, turning 
 to me, " this is Jack Maddox. You remember I told 
 you about him. He 's the fellow who did the good 
 turn for me at Mill Springs. My cousin, Jack ; he 's 
 going to enlist in our company." 
 
 " It 's a good company," said Jack, nodding his head, 
 taking me by the hand and looking me over seriously. 
 " There are no better men in a skirmish, and no better 
 men in a fight than those men ; they hang together, 
 somehow, better than most men, and you can't skeer 
 'em a little bit." 
 
 " Same officers ?" Fred asked. 
 
 "Pretty much. Of course you know of the new 
 captain. Hartee 's his name. Nobody knows anything 
 about him, except he 's seen service. He 's a good 
 talker, and if it hadn't been for him and the way he 
 talked about the horses at Strawberry Plains, I don't 
 believe so many of the men would have 'listed again. 
 But come, if you 're goin' to camp right away you might 
 as well get on and ride; it 's a heap easier, and it 's a 
 right smart tramp to the river." 
 
 We climbed to a seat beside the dusty, good-natured 
 driver, and while Fred and he discussed the probabili- 
 ties of the company being mounted, and all the little 
 odds and ends of camp gossip he had picked up relating 
 to the question, I lay back against a barrel and list- 
 ened, with my eyes closed. 
 
 Mile after mile of that dusty road we passed, nor did 
 we stop until long after sundown, when he came to a 
 halt by the side of a creek. Here we washed, built a 
 fire, made coffee, and fried pieces of beef, which, with 
 soft bread, completed our supper. Here also we slept, 
 wrapped in blankets thanks to Maddox by the fire. 
 Early the next morning, about daylight, after a hasty 
 bath and breakfast, we were on the road again.
 
 48 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 Up and down hill we went, with nothing 1 but the 
 creaking of the wagon frame, groaning under its heavy 
 load; the rattle and clatter of camp kettles, frying- 
 pans and buckets that were hung from beneath, the 
 shout of the driver, the crack of his long whip, or an 
 occasional remark from him or from Fred, to break the 
 monotony of the ride. On we went through Liberty, 
 Mount Gilead and Somerset, until, on the afternoon of 
 the second day, we came in sight of the river where Jack 
 Maddox, pointing to the side of a distant hill, said : 
 
 " There 's camp." 
 
 " What have they got, tents or log-houses ?" Fred 
 asked. 
 
 "Tents. We can see them a little further up on 
 the road," Jack answered, and we relapsed into silence. 
 
 Perhaps half a mile further, and we were at the top 
 of the hill, from which we could look across the little 
 valley to the camp. 
 
 I saw that it was situated on the north side of the 
 Cumberland River, on the hillside plateau above the 
 road, and that it overlooked the river, valley and away 
 to the hills and mountains beyond. 
 
 I could make out lines and rows and squares of 
 small tents, a group of larger tents, a flagstaff from 
 which floated the Stars and Stripes; while here and 
 there the smoke from a burning camp-fire drifted lazily 
 along on the still air. 
 
 " So that 's camp, is it ?" said I, partly to myself, and 
 yet loud enough for Fred to hear, who answered : 
 
 " Yes, good place, isn't it !" he said, with a tone of 
 approval in his voice. 
 
 " It 's out of the dust ; that 's one good thing about 
 it," said I, "and has a good prospect over the surround- 
 ing country." 
 
 Then Fred and Jack compared its location with some
 
 
 HAT yor, .MARS' DAX r .set J*agt 52.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 49 
 
 other place they had camped in, while I, partly listen- 
 ing to them and partly wondering what my first duties 
 would be, said nothing more. When we reached the foot 
 of the hill leading up to the camp we left the wagon, to 
 ascend on foot. 
 
 At the top we paused to look over the scene, and I 
 saw men moving about, building fires, carrying wood 
 and water, cleaning guns, putting up tents, &c., &c. 
 
 " You never saw a camp before, did you, Dan ?" Fred 
 asked as we stood there. " When the regiment is full 
 each company has fifty tents, divided into five rows, 
 and, with the exception of a company street, sometimes 
 twenty-five feet wide, a space of about six feet between 
 them. The officers have their tents near their com- 
 panies. Over there," said he, pointing to a row of larger 
 tents at the further end of the line, " is the regimental 
 headquarters. Just back of that, in that large tent, is 
 the sutler, where we can buy condensed milk at fifty 
 cents a can ; molasses cakes, not more than a mouthful, 
 at thirty cents a dozen; canned meats, oysters, fish, 
 preserves and jellies of all kinds ; even butter and fresh 
 milk and extravagantly high-priced eggs, and not war- 
 ranted good at that, are also sold there." 
 
 " What is that vacant space over there ?" I asked, 
 pointing to the open end of the plateau. 
 
 " I suppose that will be used mostly for exercising us 
 in horse-movements. But come, let 's go to the captain's 
 tent and report. There you can sign the roll, and we 
 can get orders for tents, blankets and so forth." 
 
 We approached the camp, where Fred was pleasantly 
 greeted by members of the different companies through 
 which we passed. 
 
 " Where 's company D," he asked of a man who had 
 been tightening up one corner of his tent, and was 
 driving the pins into a new place.
 
 50 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Lower end of the line," the man replied. 
 
 We soon came to the company, and after an intro- 
 duction and a hearty shake of hands all around, we 
 went to the captain's tent, where I discovered what 
 was necessary to complete my formal joining of the 
 company. 
 
 I signed the roll, and as I made the last strokes to 
 my name I happened to look over the heads of the 
 officers sitting by the camp-table, to the back end of 
 the tent, and there saw somebody just lifting up the 
 flap, to come in. As he straightened up inside the tent, 
 I recognized, much to my astonishment, the stranger 
 of the Waytown Arms. But he gave no sign that 
 recognition was mutual. No doubt the face of the 
 boy who had listened to him reading the news of the 
 war had long since passed from his mind. I, however, 
 knew him at once, although he had grown older and 
 bigger. He evidently did not notice me or the stare 
 with which I honored him, for he turned to speak with 
 some of the officers, and I, pulling myself together, fol- 
 lowed Fred out of the tent. 
 
 " Who is that man ?" I asked Fred, as we came out- 
 side. 
 
 "That's Captain Hartees, our captain," he replied 
 carelessly. 
 
 The conversation stopped here, and we followed the 
 sergeant, who took us to the quartermaster, where I 
 received a suit of army blue, overcoat and all haver- 
 sack, knapsack, canteen, rubber blanket, woolen blanket 
 and half of a shelter-tent. Fred took the other half a 
 tin dipper that would hold at least a quart and a tin 
 plate. 
 
 At Fred's suggestion I had bought at Louisville a 
 knife, fork and spoon that folded together completely. 
 In addition to the other things I also received a gun, a
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 51 
 
 bayonet, a belt, bayonet-scabbard, and cartridge- 
 box. 
 
 With this load we followed the sergeant back to the 
 company, where our position in line was pointed out, 
 and I took my first lesson in tent-pitching. 
 
 First we obtained, from the woods near by, two 
 forked sticks for the two standards, and a straight stick 
 to serve as a ridge-pole. The forked sticks were then 
 driven into the ground, and the ridge-pole laid into the 
 crotches of these uprights. The two tent halves were 
 then buttoned together, thrown over the cross-poles, 
 and the ends brought to the earth, where they were 
 pinned tightly, forming a regular pitch roof. 
 
 All around our tent, which was about six feet long, 
 five feet wide, and just high enough in the center for 
 one to sit down inside and not have his head touch the 
 ridge-pole, we dug a deep ditch to receive and lead 
 off the water in rainy weather. On the inside, close to 
 where the cloth was pinned to the ground, we banked 
 up the earth to further insure protection against water. 
 
 From Jack Maddox we obtained all the hay we 
 wanted. This we spread on the ground, under the 
 tent, and covered with a rubber blanket. Our canvas 
 home was hardly completed when some one said : 
 
 " There goes the grub-call, boys. Better go up and 
 get your coffee." 
 
 " What, already ?" said Fred. Then, turning to me : 
 " Get your dipper and plate, Dan, and let 's go." 
 
 With our new tin plates and dippers, Fred and I 
 hastened to interview the cook. 
 
 As we approached the fire, already surrounded by 
 men drawing their rations, I saw a stalwart negro, on 
 his knees, holding over a bed of red coals a frying-pan, 
 the sizzling contents of which he was turning with a 
 fork. The man was jet-black, apparently oblivious of
 
 52 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 his surroundings, and was singing, in a low musical 
 tone: 
 
 "Nebber min' de wedder, so de win' don't blow; 
 Nebber min' de wedder, so de win' don't blow; 
 Nebber min' de wedder, so de win' don't blow ; 
 Don't yer bodder 'bout yer trouble till it comes." 
 
 " Same old song, Lige," said Fred. 
 
 The man grinned, rolled up his eyes, and nodded in 
 assent ; then, starting quickly as he glanced at me, said : 
 
 'Golly ! Dat you, Maws' Dan ? I's glad ter see yer. 
 'Deed, I is." 
 
 " How 's this, Dan ?" said Fred. " Do you know black 
 Lige ?" 
 
 "No. I never saw him before." 
 
 " What ! Don' yer know me, Maws' Dan ? I 's Lige 
 brack Lige, whose ole mamma used to tote yer in her 
 arms when yer wus a pickerninny. Don' yer 'member 
 her ?" 
 
 " Mistake, Lige. I am Daniel Wright ; came from 
 the North, where I was born." 
 
 " Bawn in de Norf ? Wasn't raised 'round yuh ? Das 
 jes like yer foolin' ol' Lige." 
 
 " No, Lige ; I 'm not fooling." 
 
 " Well, I thought yer was my ol' maw 's boy ; yer 
 does look pow'ful like him for sho." Then turning his 
 attention to the frying-pan, he added : " But I s'pose 
 yer wouldn't be 'round yuh, do ; yer wouldn't be 'round 
 yuh ?" Saying which, and as if dismissing the subject, 
 he sang : 
 
 " Nebber min' de wedder, so de win' don't blow; 
 Don' yer bodder 'bout yer trouble till it comes." 
 
 " I say, Lige," said Fred, after a while, " sing the other 
 one. I want Dan to hear it." 
 
 " Long 's Maws' Dan done born in he Norf," said 
 Lige, after a moment of hesitation and with a quizzical
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 53 
 
 look at me, " I 's bound ter sing it. But dat 's more 'n 
 a song, Maws' Fred ; mor 'n a song." 
 
 Taking from the fire the pan he had been tending he 
 stood erect and fixed his eyes steadily on mine. His 
 gaze was sharply questioning, almost fierce at first, but 
 soon turned into a vacant, far-off stare, broken at length 
 by a sudden flash of expression, when, throwing back 
 his head and fixing his eyes on the sky, he broke forth 
 into a strain so abrupt, impassioned and of an energy 
 so wild that it seemed inspired by a soul too large for 
 mortal form. It was not Black Lige's voice we heard, 
 but the voice of his people, the cry of an oppressed 
 race, struggling, striking and dying for liberty. It 
 rang out in trumpet tones, drawing and thrilling the 
 entranced listeners, who came softly stealing up from 
 all directions. 
 
 As the chant moved to a close the voice swelled with 
 the waxing theme, and Lige stood like one turned to 
 stone ; then, as tears started from his eyes, the tones 
 became more tender and subdued, dying away at length 
 in a hoarse whisper. Even after the song was ended 
 Lige's glance did not wander from the heavens. His 
 lips moved and there was a look in his eye as if he saw 
 in the air above a something that was vanishing, yet he 
 could not look away from it till it was quite gone from 
 view. When he did turn to the circle of silent and 
 awe-struck soldiers gathered round him he looked 
 dazed; and sinking to the ground, he covered his face 
 with his hands. After a moment, when most of the 
 soldiers had gone away, Lige got up and resumed the 
 work that our coming and the song had interrupted. 
 
 " Who is that man, Fred ?" I asked, after we received 
 our rations of coffee, hard bread and fried beef, and had 
 moved away from the fire. 
 
 " The captain's cook; got him somewhere in Tennessee,
 
 54 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 a year ago. Do you know, Dan, I Ve heard Lige sing 
 that last song of his three or four times, and each time 
 I hear it there seems to be something new about it. 
 He 's a whole-souled fellow, is Lige, wonderfully clever; 
 got lots of good sense, and does about as he pleases. 
 He is quite a favorite with the boys. They never mock 
 him or impose on him in any way. He 's manly and 
 commands respect, in spite of some of his oddities. 
 Then, too, he will find things to eat when no one else 
 can. The captain fares well with Black Lige to care 
 for him. Funny he called you by name." , 
 
 " Merely a coincidence," I responded. 
 
 " I suppose so." Then, as if noticing for the first time 
 the contents of his plate, he continued : " This is pretty 
 good, Dan ; we don't get fried meat very often." 
 
 " What do you get ?" 
 
 " Coffee and hard-tack." 
 
 " A simple meal for a hungry man." 
 
 " Yes, rather ; but to-morrow 1 11 get a junk of salt 
 pork ; that 's the stuff ; that '11 give us a meal fit for a 
 king. There 's nothing like salt pork for a regular 
 'stand by.' With that, either fried, broiled, toasted, 
 boiled, baked or raw and a little hard, or even a little 
 soft tack to eat with it, a man always feels well, can 
 stand any amount of marching, and is never hungry. 
 You can do anything in the line of cooking if you only 
 have a little salt pork. If you have beans to cook, it 's 
 the pork cooked with them that makes the beans fit to 
 eat. If you want a little fat to fry your meat in, if you 
 want to fry pancakes, or do anything else under heaven 
 for which fat must be used, pork is the article you want. 
 It is the only butter a soldier gets in the field. Depend 
 upon it, Dan, there 's nothing like pork." 
 
 By this time we arrived at our fire, where we found 
 three of Fred's friends (Alf Kimball, Dick Taylor and
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 55 
 
 Jake Bence), Fred's crowd, as he called them, already 
 seated on the logs about it, each busily discussing his 
 ration of beef and coffee. 
 
 Fred introduced me in an off-hand manner, and, as I 
 took my seat, I became so much one of them as if we 
 had known each other for years ; for formality, espe- 
 cially at meal time, has no place about a soldier's camp 
 fire. A man's heart naturally expands as his stomach 
 fills ; the fresh air flavored with odors of burning pine, 
 steaming coffee and frying and broiling meat lends its 
 charm ; an atmosphere of bohemianism, a spirt of 
 romance, and a sense of companionship in a dangerous 
 calling all combine to find the "good fellow" lurking 
 (sometimes pretty well concealed in some of us) and 
 drag him into view. 
 
 Kimball was a good-natured, fine-looking fellow, 
 easy-mannered and possessed of a happy faculty of 
 giving conversation on unpleasant subjects a turn to 
 keep it bright and pleasant. He was always ready to 
 take things as they came, whether it was a plump 
 goose, a fat hog or an order to march. 
 
 Taylor was quiet, good natured, always ready to do a 
 favor for any one, and was popular with all. 
 
 Bence was a big-boned mountaineer and invet- 
 erate growler. To give Fred's own language : " He 's 
 a good feeder, brave to recklessness, good on a forage, 
 but he can outgrowl any other man in the regiment." 
 
 He had the reputation, also, of being able to get at 
 all there was going on among the officers ; and if there 
 was anything to be done, Bence was sure to know it 
 before any one else excepting, perhaps, Black Lige. 
 
 I shall never forget this, my first meal in camp, as I 
 sat with these men on the logs by our fire, drank my 
 coffee and ate my crackers and beef. 
 
 The sun had set. In the fading light the distant hills
 
 56 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 came out in bolder outline, and seemed to draw near, 
 while the intervals up and down the valley and along 
 the river deepened in color until they gradually disap- 
 peared. In silence I listened to my comrades chatting 
 good-naturedly over the incidents of their short fur- 
 lough of their homes, of the camp and its surround- 
 ings and of their probable future. 
 
 Everything was so new my uniform, belt, tin dip- 
 per, plate, the faces of the men about me, the surround- 
 ings even the coffee, the hard bread and the fried beef 
 were a revelation to me. 
 
 And this was camp-life. I did not think it at all 
 disagreeable. In fact, it was a pleasant hour to me, 
 tired as I was with the excitement of new scenes, new 
 work. It was a pleasant sight, the fire in front of me, 
 around which our fellows were lounging ; the other 
 fires further off, with their groups of men against a 
 background of tents ; the clear night, with the evening 
 star as large as a lantern ; the night wind whispering 
 in the woods. 
 
 Of all, the hardest thing to realize was that I was a 
 soldier not my own master, but a man bound to obey 
 orders to mount and ride into the teeth of death if 
 need be. I turned this strange phase of a soldier's 
 character over and over in my mind, the voices of my 
 companions gradually fading from my ear, and in such 
 cogitations I went back to the first results of war I had 
 known to the funeral of Mike Clancy at Waytown, to 
 the columns upon columns of reports I had read about 
 the battles and desperate charges of cavalry ; about 
 infantry facing, undaunted, storms of shot and shell 
 that were slaughtering them by the thousands. 
 
 But what had I to do with this ? Then I was a boy ; 
 now I was a soldier. Come what might, I would follow 
 my company.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 57 
 
 Then Mary, in all the loveliness of her youth, glided 
 into my mind. Should I ever see her again ? But I 
 put that thought quickly away. What was she doing 
 then ? I wondered. And as I thought I seemed to see 
 her, as I had found her once in a while, when we were 
 together, sitting by herself, dreaming, and her vague, 
 tear-dimmed eyes fixed on the southern hills. And I 
 fancied myself at her side, although I knew those same 
 southern hills spread wide between us.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Come, Dan, turn out ; there goes the roll-call !" said 
 Fred, the next morning, punching me in the side with 
 his elbow. I awoke while the last notes of the bugle 
 sounding the reveille were echoing up and down the 
 river through the valley below. The sun was already 
 up and shining into our tent through the open end. 
 
 " Come, Dan, come ! A soldier is up at reveille," he 
 cried again, giving another poke to assist me in collect- 
 ing my drowsy senses. Throwing off the blanket I crept 
 out of the tent and looked about me. All over the 
 camp men were crawling from tents, rubbing their 
 eyes, and assembling in little groups in the company 
 streets. 
 
 " Good-looking men, Fred," I said, for want of any- 
 thing better, and accompanying the remark with a 
 yawn, still feeling decidedly sleepy and, withal, a little 
 chilly at being forced to leave a nice warm bed for 
 the cold morning air from the river. 
 
 Fred, on the other hand, was all life and activity. 
 
 " No better men in the country," he responded 
 briskly as he dragged our accouterments out of the
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 59 
 
 tent. " These men are mostly from the mountains of 
 Kentucky, thorough Unionists and brave to a man. 
 But come, fall in ; there 's the sergeant, and he's going 
 to call the roll." 
 
 I was soon in line with the rest of our company, 
 responded to my name when it was called, and then 
 returned to the tent to roll up my blanket and clean my 
 musket, which, with Fred's, had lain between us all 
 night. While at work over it, I paused often to survey 
 the scene before me. The sun was shining brightly 
 over the tops of the hills, upon the woods and meadows, 
 and making luminous the thin wreaths of mist hanging 
 above the river. In the camp our little dog-tents 
 looked clean and white in the fresh morning light, and, 
 like the grass, sparkled with beads of dew. The mo- 
 ment was one of life and activity, our camp presenting 
 a most animated scene. 
 
 Never during a whole day does a camp look so popu- 
 lous as in the early morning 'hours, when every man is 
 up and busy about his tent, bringing things into order 
 for the day. From one end of the encampment to the 
 other men were scattered in all sorts of positions, some 
 cleaning muskets, as I was, and others building fires, 
 still others bringing wood and water. In some places 
 men had assembled in little groups and gossiped as they 
 worked ; but, as a rule, we were separated, each man 
 working by himself. 
 
 Working over a gun is good exercise ; at least, it 
 soon brought my blood into better circulation, filled my 
 lungs full of the fresh air, and in consequence dispelled 
 much of the discomfort of mind and body. 
 
 " Clean mine while you 're about it," said Fred at that 
 moment, coming up from the direction of the cook's 
 fire, and indicating his gun, leaning against the ridge- 
 pole just outside the tent, " How 's this for a piece of
 
 60 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 pork ?" he cried exultingly, holding up a piece of salt 
 pork that would weigh at least four pounds. 
 
 " What are you going to do with that ?" I asked. 
 
 " Show you when breakfast is ready if they don't 
 give us beef." 
 
 " Which I sincerely hope they will, for I don't want 
 to commence on pork before I have to." 
 
 " I hope you may always get as good, my boy," said 
 Fred, his face assuming a serious look. " I have seen 
 the time, more than once, when I would have given 
 almost anything for a piece of pork like this. 1 11 take 
 care of it now. It '11 keep and come in handy before 
 long." And he stowed it away in his haversack. 
 
 " How much longer do we have to wait before break- 
 fast is ready ?" I asked, having an inward feeling that 
 that subject was not receiving all the attention it should 
 
 " Oh, somewhere between half-past six and seven 
 o'clock. It '11 soon be ready now. Some of the boys 
 went down to the river for water right after roll-call, 
 and as soon as the water boils and the coffee is made 
 breakfast is ready." 
 
 " You don't need to do anything but wipe the guns, 
 do you, Fred ?" I said, after having wiped away every 
 sign of moisture from the barrel. 
 
 " Not while they are new," he replied. " After they 
 have seen weather and the fire-bronze is worn off it 
 takes a little elbow-grease to keep them clean. As long 
 as you can keep the bronze on, wiping is good enough. 
 Most of the boys prefer to keep their old guns to hav- 
 ing new ones. They know them, you see, and what 
 they can do with them, but they have to work a little 
 harder to keep them in shape." 
 
 I gave my gun an extra rub, rested it against the 
 ridgepole and began on Fred's. " What follows break- 
 fast ?" I asked him, after a pause,
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 61 
 
 " Guard -mounting, I suppose." 
 
 " What is that ?" I asked, having, however, a fair idea 
 of what he meant. 
 
 " Relieving the guard that have been on duty all 
 night." 
 
 " That is what I supposed. But is there any particu- 
 lar parade about it ?" 
 
 " Usually there is," he replied. " But how is that, 
 sergeant ?" he cried to the orderly sergeant, who was 
 passing at that moment. " Are we to have guard- 
 mounting this morning ?" 
 
 " No, not until all the officers and men are in. Until 
 then the guard will be detailed from the different 
 companies, without parade. It was our turn last 
 night." 
 
 " Then we won't come in for it again for a week," said 
 Fred. " Well, I don't know if that is anything to crow 
 over ; we'll get our share in time, and not have to 
 forage for it, either." 
 
 After a while the men most interested in the prep- 
 arations for breakfast began to gather around the 
 cook's fire, where they stood dreamily gazing at the 
 smoke from the burning wood as 'it curled up into the 
 air, or watched the steam rise from the kettles as 
 the water in them began to boil. To those who pre- 
 ferred it a ration of uncooked beef was served instead 
 of fried meat. It saved the cook just so much labor if 
 the men took it raw, and many of us preferred to cook 
 it in our own way. 
 
 Fred and I, for instance, availed ourselves of the 
 privilege, and took our meat with a pot of hot coffee, 
 some hard bread, and a can of condensed milk, tmr- 
 chased of the sutler, to another fire. 
 
 There, with my coffee resting on some hot coals that 
 I had raked from the fire, I placed my piece of beef
 
 62 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 upon the end of a pointed stick and held it near the 
 flames to broil. 
 
 It was an interesting sight to see at least a dozen 
 men squatting round the fire with a dozen pots of coffee 
 resting on little piles of hot coals similar to my own ; a 
 dozen outstretched hands and sticks holding as many 
 pieces of beef that shriveled, sputtered, smoked and 
 blazed in the flames, and the men, without an idea of 
 the ludicrous side of the picture they were making, 
 gazing seriously and earnestly at the sizzling beef. 
 
 The lower part of the beef cooked, the ends were 
 reversed and returned to the fire until the rest was 
 done. Then, with a little salt for seasoning, the meal 
 was ready, and, with an appetite sharpened by the clear 
 morning air, I fell to. Never did beef, coffee and hard 
 bread taste so good. The beef was cooked to a turn ; 
 the coffee was fine ; and the hard tack was fresh and 
 crisp. 
 
 Breakfast over, the awkward squad was drilled by a 
 corporal, who acted as instructor. At first, we made 
 more or less awkward work of it ; but, by persevering, 
 our showing, in time, was good. 
 
 After this came dinner, which, while we were at this 
 place, usually consisted of some sort of stew, made of 
 fresh beef, potatoes, and onions ; stewed beans and 
 pork, or salt beef and vegetables, with an occasional 
 treat of boiled rice to give a variety. 
 
 Day after day we went through this sort of thing, 
 becoming more familiar with the use of a gun, and 
 getting an infusion of military experience, discipline 
 and skill in maneuvering, that in every way fitted us to 
 drill with the company whenever they began. 
 
 As stragglers kept coming in all this time, our ranks 
 were soon full, and all the officers present the colonel 
 coming almost the last of all. Everybody was on the
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 63 
 
 watch for him, and his arrival was known almost in- 
 stantly throughout the whole camp, although we were 
 busy with our supper at the time. 
 
 " Now look out for battalion drills and see if our 
 horses don't soon show up," remarked Fred. 
 
 " Yes, if we are to have them !" growled Jake Bence, 
 at my elbow, never taking his eyes from the beef he 
 was holding to the fire. " They Ve as good as lied to 
 us, and I tell you, Fred, I 'm getting mighty sick of it," 
 and there was a sour expression on his face which cor- 
 responded strictly with the sentiment and tone of his 
 grumbling.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The next day, as we expected, all the companies were 
 ordered out for drill, and we exercised on the parade 
 ground, in all known movements for infantry, for at 
 least an hour, marching, countermarching, forward, 
 right oblique and left oblique ; now at a double quick, 
 then at common time, marching with a full regimental 
 front, or in column, and then wheeling front into line. 
 
 Then came the parade, where we went through the 
 manual of arms, and at " rest," while the drums and fife 
 marched up and down the line playing " Yankee 
 Doodle," " Hail Columbia " or the " Star Spangled Ban- 
 ner." 
 
 Every day, when it was pleasant, we went through 
 these movements. I could not see the necessity for it 
 then, but I see now how important it all was. When it 
 happened to be stormy, the men who were not on 
 guard kept their tents and wrote letters home or 
 amused themselves in reading. 
 
 Those little dog tents were anything but comfortable 
 in wet weather. The space inside was very small, and 
 the cloth so thin that one could scarcely touch it on the 
 inside without getting wet. A severe rainstorm fell 
 upon us one day. Fred and I covered both ends of our 
 tent with rubber blankets and, sitting under the ridge- 
 [64]
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 65 
 
 pole, tried to write. But the wind, which had full 
 sweep of the plateau, seemed to drive the water in tor- 
 rents upon us. The rain beat so hard that it penetrated 
 the cloth and fell in a fine spray over us, wetting us, 
 and making the place so uncomfortable that writing 
 was out of the question. We had to make the best of 
 it, however, and sat and smoked until the worst of the 
 storm was over. That was the most miserable and dis- 
 agreeably wet day I had passed yet. On every fairly 
 pleasant day we went through the same course of drill- 
 ing over and over again, always for infantry there 
 were no horses yet. 
 
 The colonel had come. All the officers and men had 
 reported for duty. Still no horses. 
 
 The team drivers who came into camp or were met 
 driving by were asked had they seen them on the road. 
 And they answered : 
 
 " No ; not a sign of a hoof." 
 
 Still we looked for them. Still they did not come. 
 Disappointment was widespread, and grumbling grew 
 loud. In addition to all this, a rumor went over the 
 camp that we .were soon to move. It did not seem pos- 
 sible that, in the face of the promises made to these 
 men, we would be asked to move without horses. 
 
 One afternoon Fred, Jake and I were sitting smoking 
 under a tree on the edge of the plateau, where we com- 
 manded a view of the road leading from the camp 
 down the slope into the valley, and for a long way up 
 the valley beside the river. 
 
 Jake had called our attention to a line of army wagons 
 on the road, saying : 
 
 " Here comes the grub train." 
 
 For lack of anything else to do, we were watching it 
 drawing near, one wagon after another appearing from 
 behind the woods.
 
 66 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " I wonder what that means," muttered Jake. And I 
 looked closely to see if there was anything that had 
 escaped my attention. 
 
 " What ?" I asked. 
 
 " Why, that wagon-train. It *s three times as long as 
 usual. Let 's go and meet it." 
 
 We went, Fred and Jake looking anxious, I thought. 
 
 We met the train at the entrance to the camp and 
 found Jack Maddox on the first wagon. 
 
 " Well, boys, yer off, for sure," he shouted as soon as 
 he caught sight of Fred. " This is the last train com- 
 ing down here. I heard 'em say so in the quartermas- 
 ter's office at Lebanon." 
 
 " I suppose so. But where 're the horses ?" responded 
 Fred. 
 
 " You haven't got them yet, have you ? Didn't I tell 
 you so up in Lebanon ?" 
 
 Jake muttered an oath or two, turned away, and I 
 followed him, leaving Fred and Jack together. 
 
 " So we are not to have horses after all ?" I said. 
 
 " I never thought we would. But this thing won't go 
 down. The boys 11 well, you '11 see when they hear 
 it. They have grumbled a heap already, 'cause they 
 thought they were exercising too much, as if they were 
 to be nothing but infantry. I, for one, don't propose to 
 stand it." 
 
 We were not far from the wagons then, and looking 
 back I saw that a crowd of twenty or thirty men had 
 gathered about Fred and Jack and were gesticulating 
 wildly and swearing, and some of their faces were not 
 pleasant to look at. While we stood there looking back, 
 Peter Grimes, a veteran of Company G old Pete, his 
 comrades called him left the crowd, his face hardened 
 into a firm, determined scowl, and his short, iron-gray 
 beard curling with anger.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 67 
 
 n Boys !" he shouted with an oath. " I am done." 
 
 He stripped his belt, with bayonet sheath attached, 
 from his body, lifted them high above his head and 
 threw them into the road, where they lay half-buried 
 in the dust. He jerked off his cap and threw it beside 
 them. Then, running his fingers through the thick 
 locks of bristling hair on his head until they stood on 
 end, and with a curse that seemed to roll up from his 
 very bowels, he cried : 
 
 " I 've just come off guard, and by the living God, if 
 they don't give us horses, I '11 never go back again !" 
 and without another word, or a look to right or left, he 
 strode away to his tent. 
 
 I looked away from him to the rest, and saw that 
 many were preparing to follow his example, when 
 
 " Boys, what 's the matter ?" said a quiet voice in 
 their midst, and at the same instant Captain Hartees 
 appeared from behind Jack's wagon. 
 
 Jake and I walked back to see what would come next. 
 
 " Where 's the horses we were to have ?" growled 
 several who had just been relieved from guard, and 
 stood with their accouterments on just as they had 
 come off duty. They did not turn toward the captain ; 
 the hard lines in their faces did not relax ; some of them 
 even took off their belts and pitched them as deter- 
 minedly and as resolutely into the dust as Grimes had 
 done. 
 
 The captain walked up to the man who seemed most 
 determined and, pointing to the discarded belt in the 
 dust, said : 
 
 " Look here, my man, pick that up !" 
 
 The man looked up with a derisive smile on his face, 
 but the smile and the look of derision faded under the 
 piercing gaze of the captain. 
 
 " I know you are disappointed," said the captain ;
 
 68 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 "so am I. We have done our best to keep our promises ; 
 but, because we have failed, this is no way for you to 
 do. Pick that up !" and the man, after waiting a mo- 
 ment, obeyed ; but his face, though the smile had van- 
 ished, was as hard and as grim as ever. 
 
 "There 's yours and yours !" said the captain, turning 
 to the other men and pointing to the belts that they 
 had thrown away. 
 
 I was relieved to see the belts taken from the ground, 
 although the men held them in their hands without 
 making a motion to fasten them about their waists. 
 
 " Whose is this ?" the captain asked, without ad- 
 dressing any one in particular. 
 
 "Pete's," growled the first man who had been 
 spoken to. 
 
 " You take it to him then," said the captain, picking 
 it up ; " and tell him from me not to throw it away 
 again. He will need it by and by ;" then, turning to 
 the crowd who were watching him in gloomy silence, 
 he said : 
 
 " Boys, this war is not over. A great work still re- 
 mains to be done, and it needs just such men as you to 
 do it. When your time expired, you said that you could 
 not and would not leave the work unfinished. You re- 
 enlisted again, and I hope you '11 live in the service 
 until the last blow is struck and the war is over. 
 
 " But you did this with the understanding that you 
 were to have horses, you say. I grant that horses were 
 promised to you, and that they have not come. But this 
 is a greater disappointment to me than it possibly can 
 be to you, for I feel in part responsible. It was I, per- 
 haps, who urged you most, but it 's too early yet to give 
 them up. I still think the horses will come. When we 
 go to the front it will probably be in the cars from 
 Lebanon, and we shall, without doubt, find our horses
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 69 
 
 waiting for us at the end of the route. Till then, we 
 must be patient, and wait and walk. I know what 
 walking is, and want you to remember that I ask no 
 man to do what I would not do, or to go where I would 
 not go. I shall not send you one inch nearer the enemy 
 than I go myself. Great deeds are still to be done. 
 This regiment has done them and will do them again. 
 In the three years of your hard-fought service you 
 proved yourselves men. Don't shame your record now." 
 
 He turned, and walked calmly away ; but as he passed 
 us, I saw that his face was very grave, almost anxious ; 
 and when he had gone on some distance his hands met, 
 and clasped each other behind his back. His pace be- 
 came gradually slower, and his head fell forward on his 
 chest, as if he were oppressed with the weight of serious 
 thoughts. 
 
 The men remained standing for a few moments in 
 the same positions. The three who had thrown away 
 their accouterments were buckling them on again, but 
 they all looked as morose and savage as ever. We felt 
 that the storm had not broken after all, but was still 
 brewing. 
 
 As the crowd separated Fred joined me, whispering 
 as he did so : 
 
 " It is not over yet. This is only a beginning." 
 
 'That night the whole camp was gloomy ; no songs 
 were heard, no laughter. The men, squatting about 
 the fires, cooking their suppers, were silent and sullen ; 
 and when the evening meal was finished and darkness 
 had fallen, the same feeling of uneasiness was in the 
 air. Nothing was heard but growling and grumbling 
 on every side. 
 
 I lay for a while on the ground, listening to the dis- 
 contented mutterings of my comrades, and wondering 
 how and when it would all end. When my pipe finally
 
 70 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 went out I put it in my pocket, arose to my feet an<3 
 walked away. 
 
 Fred, who had been seated near me, sprang to his 
 feet and followed me, saying : 
 " Where are you going, Dan ?" 
 
 " I am going to walk," I replied. " I go on guard at 
 eight o'clock." 
 
 When he came quite close to me he said : 
 " This looks bad, mighty bad, and I don't like it." 
 " Neither do I. But what's going to be done. The 
 boys have been used badly ; there's no use denying it, 
 and somebody is to blame for it." 
 
 "There's one thing you can count on," said Fred. 
 " The boys are not going to leave camp quietly without 
 horses." 
 
 As we walked we approached the quarters of com- 
 pany I. Owing to the fact that this company had not 
 been recruited, there were fewer men in it than in ours. 
 But these men were veterans, who had fought side 
 by side since the regiment was mustered into service. 
 They were mostly from the same section in Kentucky, 
 all of the same habits of life, too all mountaineers. 
 
 When we reached them they were grouped around 
 one fire which, uncared for, was dying slowly away. 
 
 The red embers glowed without giving much light, 
 but occasional flashes of flame enabled us to see the 
 scowling faces and iron frames of the men, who seemed 
 to be gathered in council, some standing, some sitting 
 on the logs and some lying flat on the ground, while 
 wreaths of pipe-smoke floated away into the clear, 
 moonless night. 
 
 They were not given to much talk, these silent, reso- 
 lute men, and we stood for some time on the outskirts 
 of the crowd before we caught the drift of what they 
 had been saying.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 71 
 
 " They say we 're to have 'em bum-by, when we get 
 nearer to the front," somebody on the opposite side of 
 the fire was saying. 
 
 "It's a lie," some one else growled. "Who believes 
 it?" 
 
 " What are we drillin' and drillin' as infantry every 
 day for, if we 're to have horses ?" said another. " I 
 tell yer, boys, it 's dog-goned crooked, an' we don't 
 stand it." 
 
 There came a deep growl of assent from the hearers 
 assembled. 
 
 Another spoke, after a pause : 
 
 " I '11 tell yer what, I 'm in fer the work, if they '11 
 use me squar', but I '11 be dogged if I 'm goin' to tramp 
 another three years and tote the duds I have had to, to 
 make me comfortable for the last three. I 'listed for 
 mounted infantry and not for ' foot,' and if they don't 
 give us horses I 'm done." 
 
 The silence which fell then was soon broken by 
 another harsh voice. 
 
 " Tears to me like the only chance the reb's have for 
 success is in our government goin' back on the soldiers 
 that 's willin' to do the fightin". We 're strong 'nough, 
 know 'nough, and we 're brave 'nough, but the men 
 that 's over us don't know 'nough 'nd they can't do the 
 work as belongs to 'em ter do. We went through one 
 three years, and 'pears to me a man 's got no right to 
 tell us we 're goin' to have horses when he knows we 
 ain't, just to get us to 'list over again. No Kentucky 
 man would do so mean a thing-as that." 
 
 " No Kentucky man would do it," repeated another 
 voice. 
 
 Just then the dying fire gave out a flash, and look- 
 ing toward the place whence the last voice came, I 
 saw that Still Dick Vedder was the man who had
 
 72 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 spoken. He was seated on a camp-stool at the back of 
 the circle, a little apart from the others. 
 
 The sudden flash of light appeared to startle him, 
 and as he looked up I thought I saw a murderous ex- 
 pression just vanishing from his face. 
 
 Vedder was known as a strange man ; something 
 peculiar about him. He had no chums ; did not seem 
 to want any, and no one cared to cross him in anything. 
 
 It was told of him that his father, mother and his 
 wife and children were shot by a band of guerrillas, or 
 driven into the woods to die, and some one said that he 
 had sworn a fearful oath of vengeance. 
 
 This accounted for his hatred of the rebels. There 
 were strange stories told of his doings in battle. He 
 was reckless, brave to a fault, and would fight as long- 
 as there was any one to fight, and had almost to be 
 driven from the field. Last of all it was told, and often 
 repeated, how, at Chicamauga, he walked up to a de- 
 fenseless prisoner and shot him dead. He had recog- 
 nized one of his father's murderers, it was claimed, 
 but the action was brutal. Such was the man silent, 
 determined, reckless ; not to be turned aside when once 
 he had made up his mind to an action.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 It was a night of cloudless beauty that closed this 
 most eventful and, as we learned later, last day of our 
 camp life at Point Burnside. 
 
 When we left the camp fire of Company I, Fred and 
 I walked together as far as the headquarters of the 
 guard, where we parted. Here I found the corporal 
 just about to take out the relief, so I fell into place and 
 soon reached the post where I was left to my duty. 
 
 Alone with the cold stars staring down from above 
 and my thoughts which were not, on that occasion, 
 the most pleasant companions I tramped back and 
 forth from a solitary tree, which was the boundary at 
 one end of my beat, in a direct line to a big stone mark- 
 ing its limit at the other end. 
 
 I could think of nothing but the disturbed state of 
 our camp and of the air of surly and defiant stubborn- 
 ness in the men of Company I. But, however much 
 my mind was occupied with a consideration of the pres- 
 ent condition of things and of the causes which had 
 given the boys occasion for grumbling, I still found 
 myself trying to reason out, to my own satisfaction, 
 what the result of this disappointment was likely to be. 
 As may be imagined, there could be one conclusion 
 from my point of view. 
 
 [73]
 
 74 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 That there would be trouble was evident to all. 
 There was little that these men would not do if the 
 proper leader was at hand and had the courage to step 
 to the front at the right time. Recklessness certainly 
 had no limits to which they would not go if occasion 
 offered. 
 
 Again and again I came to the conclusion that we 
 were standing over a volcano, which might burst forth 
 at any time or place. And as often as I arrived at 
 this conclusion, and its horrible results became clear to 
 me, I would be aroused from my meditation, with a 
 shiver, to find myself standing still, grasping with both 
 hands the stock of my gun, the barrel resting across my 
 left arm, and my eyes fixed upon the ground. It may 
 have been the chill of the dew that affected me, or it 
 may have been the feeling of dejection with which I 
 seem to have been overcome, that was responsible for 
 these creeping chills ; but of one thing there was no 
 longer a doubt in my mind this matter was working 
 me up to a high state of nervous excitement, and, for a 
 soldier, this ought not to be. 
 
 As I stood in the darkness and listened with anxious 
 ears, I would catch, now and then, a vague murmuring 
 sound from the camp, like the moaning sometimes 
 heard in a forest before a storm ; then the bodeful, 
 startling cry of some night-bird hovering over the 
 place would sound out upon the quiet air. Occasionally 
 I heard the slow and measured tread of the sentinel 
 whose beat adjoined my own. 
 
 The moon rose about eleven o'clock, throwing up a 
 delicate rosy haze at first, then mounted into a green- 
 ish silver, dispelling the melancholy gloom, and, as the 
 obscurity of the night vanished, I could look about me, 
 out over the vague unearthly landscape, over the hills 
 and dales, and up and down the shadowy, winding
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 75 
 
 river. Just then, also, a breeze sprang up, and the 
 dewy freshness that filled the air was a thing for which 
 to be grateful. 
 
 By the smoldering camp fires, I still could see indis- 
 tinct forms of men ; few had gone to their tents, though 
 it was long after " taps." The very air breathed sus- 
 picious wakefulness. Occasionally I heard footsteps, 
 not of my comrades of the watch, but of some one 
 approaching from the camp ; but those that made the 
 noises either stopped short or turned away before I 
 could make out who they were or what they intended 
 doing. 
 
 At length a more hurried and more decided foot- 
 step startled me. It did not turn aside, but came 
 straight on. My heart beat fast, and I confess to a feel- 
 ing of loneliness, as if every friend had deserted me. 
 Very distinctly do I remember also the stirring of the 
 hair upon my head, an effect, I had thought once, was 
 beyond the most extreme result of terror. A cold 
 sweat started from my face, and my hands grew wet, as 
 if they had been doused in water ; and had I tried to 
 run away I believe my legs would have failed me. I 
 had no time for a cool decision between the glory of 
 death at my post of duty and shameful retreat, for the 
 footsteps came pounding on. I was scared, and would 
 have run, but something beyond my power to name 
 rooted me to the spot. 
 
 Hastily summoning all the resolution at my com- 
 mand, and nervously bringing my rifle to a position of 
 defense, I cried with a voice as loud as the dry and 
 parched condition of my throat would permit : 
 
 " Halt ! Who goes there ?" 
 
 " Friend," came the response, and the dark form of a 
 soldier stepped from the shadow of a tree into the 
 moonlight, not ten feet away.
 
 76 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 *' Advance, friend, and give the countersign," I said, 
 in as steady and stern a voice as I could command. 
 
 " I haven't any countersign but horses. That 's what 's 
 the matter with me, 'nd I 'd as lief be sent to the guard 
 house for it as not," the man said, as he came to a stop 
 not two paces from the point of my bayonet. 
 
 "Well," I replied, gaining confidence in myself as the 
 knowledge that I was master of the situation dawned 
 upon me, " I don't propose to send you to the guard- 
 house ; only don't try to cross the line here." 
 
 The man moved away, and I resumed my walk with 
 a sigh of relief. 
 
 For a time everything was quiet. I saw nothing new 
 heard nothing strange. The soldiers lounging about 
 the camp fires left one by one, until all had disappeared. 
 The neglected fires were fast dying out, and I was just 
 calculating that my time for duty was about up, and 
 that I would soon be relieved and asleep, when I saw 
 something moving among the headquarter tents. 
 
 Soon the black shadow of a man on horseback left 
 the camp and approached the line of guards across the 
 wagon road. It halted at command, approached the 
 sentry, gave the countersign, probably though I was 
 too far away to hear it, and was allowed to pass. Then 
 I heard, indistinctly, the hoof beats of a galloping horse. 
 
 I wondered what it all meant, and watched the rider 
 in his course down the road to the valley, and up along 
 the river bank ; saw him pass into the shadow of the 
 woods ; watched for him where I knew he must reap- 
 pear in the moonlight, and so on, until he finally 
 disappeared behind the woods of the valley. I turned 
 away, for I knew I should see him no more. 
 
 A few moments later I again heard footsteps ; this 
 time coming toward the camp from outside the line. 
 This was the first time I had heard any sound outside
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 77 
 
 our lines, and thoughts of an enemy at once presented 
 themselves, only to be dispelled by the thought that we 
 were much too far north for that. Strange to say, I 
 was not nearly so scared as on the former occasion. 
 
 A steady look in the direction of the new-comer soon 
 revealed our orderly sergeant, walking leisurely and 
 unconcernedly toward me. 
 
 " Halt !" I said, when the sergeant had approached 
 to within a few paces of me. 
 
 " Hello, Dan !" was the response. " Is that you ?" 
 
 I was somewhat surprised rather pleasantly than 
 otherwise at the first non-commissioned officer in the 
 company addressing me thus familiarly, so I replied in 
 a voice full of confidence in myself : 
 
 "Yes, it is I !" 
 
 " Has there been any passing the lines to-night ."' 
 
 " Not on this beat." 
 
 " Heard anything or seen any of the officers of the 
 other companies ?" 
 
 " No. They haven't been this way !" 
 
 " Well, there 's lot of 'em out, and they '11 be along 
 soon ! We Ve been out since sundown, and there isn't 
 a blessed one of us has the countersign. Lucky for me 
 I happened to strike your post instead of that of some 
 of the men who came day before yesterday ; for you 
 happen to know who I am, and that makes it all right." 
 
 " Certainly !" I replied, repeating the last words of 
 his remark. " That makes it all right." 
 
 " By the way, Dan," said the sergeant, pausing in 
 front of me as he crossed the line ; " I notice there 's 
 one thing you have either forgotten or have never been 
 taught. Let me show you how to hold your gun when 
 you challenge an officer." 
 
 This was a new idea to me, and supposing there 
 might be something that I had not learned in the line
 
 78 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 of respect due an officer from a sentinel on duty, I 
 handed my gun to the sergeant. 
 
 " Now, sir !" said the sergeant, sternly, bringing the 
 gun to a charge and pressing the point of the bayonet so 
 hard and close to my breast that I was compelled, in 
 order to prevent injury, to step back back back. 
 " Now, sir, supposing I was a stranger and an enemy, 
 who had wheedled you in giving up your gun. Where 
 would you be ? I could easily lay you out, eh ?" 
 
 This was a fact, and I had to admit it. 
 
 " I have purposely done this to teach you a lesson. 
 Always remember, when you are on duty, that until 
 you get the countersign, there is no more respect due 
 from you to your superior officer than there is to a 
 private. You are not supposed to know any one. What 
 you want, and all you want is the countersign ; and 
 that in every case you must have before you let any one 
 pass. Another thing ; don't let any one not even a 
 general take your gun away from you again. Never 
 let it go out of your hands. The safety of the army 
 depends upon the faithfulness of those detailed to watch 
 while others sleep. Never forget this. An unarmed 
 soldier on guard is as useless as a cat without claws in a 
 fight. Here, take your gun, hang on to it, and don't 
 give yourself away to your comrades to-morrow morn- 
 ing. The countersign is ' Sherman.' " Saying which 
 the sergeant left me and walked toward the camp. 
 
 I was somewhat humiliated by this experience, for 
 the necessity of being vigilant and alert was already 
 known to me. It had been impressed upon my mind 
 before we went on guard ; but it occurred to me that 
 this was an emergency, an affair where circumstances 
 seemed to alter cases one demanding the exercise of 
 sound judgment. I saw now that I was wrong, and was 
 ashamed I had been so easily caught. The only bit of
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 79 
 
 consolation left me was in the warning, " Not to give 
 myself away." It was evident my instructor was one 
 who considered only the importance of my efficiency as 
 a soldier. 
 
 Shortly after this I heard a commotion along the 
 guard line, and by the heavy tramp of feet knew that 
 my neighbor had been relieved and that it was my turn 
 next,
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 When I awoke the next morning Fred was already 
 outside, talking with Bence and Kimball, who occupied 
 the next tent. Kimball was saying : 
 
 " The^ won't dare to order us off after what hap- 
 pened yesterday. They know mighty well we won't 
 leave here if we don't get them." 
 
 It was plain to me that horses formed the subject of 
 their conversation, and that, with the rising sun, this 
 one absorbing topic for discussion was returned to with 
 as much passion as ever. 
 
 " And I tell you they will- order us out," drawled 
 Jake, " and they won't make any bones of it, either. 
 The men who left last night knew what they were 
 about." Then, after a moment of pause, he added im- 
 patiently : " I was a fool that I didn't go, too." 
 
 " Has anybody gone ?" I asked, sticking my head out 
 of the tent, and feeling, at the same time, that I could 
 account for one absent one if I would. 
 
 " I reckon there has," responded Jake, with a flourish 
 of the pipe-stem he had been cleaning. " Company D 
 lost two, three gone from Company I, and when roll-call 
 is over you "11 find a heap more missing." 
 
 And sure enough, when the roll was called, at the 
 [80]
 
 HE LKVKLKD HIS MUSKET AT THE CAPTAIN'S BREAST. Ste 1'O.ge SO.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 81 
 
 name of Hiram Haines no voice answered ; and so, 
 later on, there was no response to the name of Henry 
 Roberts. 
 
 The call over, we began to cook breakfast. All the 
 time the conversation moved upon only one subject 
 horses, and the trouble sure to come if we were ordered 
 to leave without them. 
 
 " What are we going to do ?" Fred asked. 
 
 " Do !" sneered Jake, with his arms squared firmly on 
 his breast, the rugged wrist of one hand showing out 
 past the dark, half-concealed knuckles of the other. 
 " Do ! I don't want to be the man to give the order to 
 leave this place." 
 
 " You wouldn't mutiny, would you ?" I asked. 
 
 " Couldn't say what a lot of men that have been im- 
 posed on would do," replied Bence, with a challenging 
 glance toward headquarters. " We 're no fools, nor 
 cowards either, and they '11 find it out." 
 
 Immediately after breakfast we were ordered to 
 strike tents, to roll up our blankets, and get ready to 
 move. 
 
 " That settles it," said Taylor. " There 're no if s about 
 that." 
 
 " Didn't I tell yer," muttered Jake, and both men, 
 from very force of habit, started to obey the order, 
 although they first looked around expectantly, to see 
 if any opposition was made. All over the camp men 
 were executing the command ; but slowly, as though 
 they were doing it under protest. 
 
 Shortly after this we were marched by companies to 
 the supply wagons, where three days' rations were 
 issued to us. Then forty rounds of ammunition were 
 distributed. This filled our cartridge boxes and left a 
 handsome balance to stow away in our haversacks with 
 the rations.
 
 82 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 Men were gathering in little groups, and in some 
 instances exhibiting considerable feeling ; still, there 
 was no alarming disturbance. I was all keyed up with 
 suppressed excitement. What could it mean ? All the 
 talk and bluster of the day before must have meant 
 something ; and that it did, indeed, mean something, I 
 saw too plainly, as I glanced at the faces of the veterans 
 about us. 
 
 There is a point where surly, dissatisfied obedience 
 ends, and mutiny defiant, reckless and often deadly 
 mutiny begins ; and this crisis in our affairs was fast 
 approaching. 
 
 At last the tents were all struck, divided and rolled 
 up with the blankets. Every one had decided how 
 many of the little things that had been collected he 
 would want to carry in his load, and how many must be 
 left behind. 
 
 When my accouterments were all on, my load, per- 
 haps a fair sample of the others, was as follows : 
 A haversack hung by a strap from my right shoulder 
 across my body to my left side, and in it were knife, 
 fork, spoon, plate and enough pork, hard bread, coffee 
 and sugar for three days. In my knapsack, strapped to 
 my back, were writing paper, pins, pens, pipe and 
 tobacco, ink, soap, towels, underclothing, stockings, etc., 
 etc. Hung over my left shoulder was a canteen full of 
 water ; also over the same shoulder hung my blankets 
 and tent, rolled up tightly into a horse-collar shape, 
 and tied at the ends. From my belt hung a dipper, 
 a cartridge-box, which was heavy with ammunition, 
 and over my left hip a bayonet in its sheath. This, 
 with my gun, made load enough for one man to carry. 
 
 All that was now left for us to do was to kill time by 
 talking, smoking and lounging around, waiting for 
 orders. This is an experience which enters largely into
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 83 
 
 every soldier's career, and, already familiar with many 
 of the possibilities in this direction, I had seated myself 
 and was smoking my pipe and dreaming of home when, 
 unexpectedly, one of the teamsters arrived from Lebanon 
 with the mail. 
 
 Thoroughly aroused by the chances of that mail- 
 pouch containing a letter for me, I arose and, with 
 others, followed the mail-carrier to headquarters, where 
 the letters and papers were distributed. 
 
 There were two letters for me one from mother, 
 which was opened first and read where I stood. The 
 other letter I knew, by the writing on the envelope, 
 was from Mary. It did not take me long to find a place 
 where it could be absorbed without disturbance. 
 
 Again and again I read it, until every word seemed 
 to me a text from which a sermon on the loveliness of 
 woman might be preached. I was assured that the 
 house was now very lonely without me. That my room 
 remained just as I had left it, and that nothing in it 
 should be disturbed until I returned. That every even- 
 ing, when it was pleasant, she had been to walk along 
 the same road and by the paths which we had so often 
 walked together, and that every step she took, every 
 foot of ground passed over, reminded her of some 
 word or look from me, which she had jealously hoarded 
 in the treasure-house of her heart. She would wait 
 and hope and pray for my safe return. 
 
 By the time I had fully digested the contents of my 
 two letters and returned to the company, the incident 
 of the unlooked-for mail had apparently been forgotten, 
 and horses again formed the topic for discussion. 
 
 About ten o'clock we had left the camp ground and 
 were standing by companies in a line on the road at the 
 foot of the slope facing the hill. 
 
 " Where 's the colonel ?" Fred asked.
 
 84 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " He left last night, so the boys say," muttered Kim- 
 b^all, abstractedly. 
 
 " Yes, and I saw him leave ; he went about midnight," 
 said I, for the rider of the horse which I had seen gal- 
 loping away last night could have been none other than , 
 the colonel. 
 
 " He did well," said Jake, harshly. 
 
 " Who '11 command ?" I asked. 
 
 " Hartees, I reckon ; he 's the senior captain. Yes, 
 there he is now !" 
 
 I looked in the direction Jake indicated and saw the 
 captain standing in front of the center of the line, 
 leaning against his sword, the point of which was rest- 
 ing on a stone behind him. 
 
 He was waiting until we should be joined by the last 
 of the purposely straggling squads which kept coming 
 in sight on the brow of the hill. 
 
 At last, a party of three or four came down, followed 
 by a lieutenant of one of the companies. The men 
 took their places in line, and the officer reported that 
 the camp ground was clear. 
 
 Then the command was passed from company to 
 company : 
 
 " Right face ! Forward ! March !" 
 
 Away off to the right of the line the drums began 
 to beat and mechanically we obeyed the order. 
 
 Without the buoyant feelings and the excitement 
 that change is wont to bring, for even the drums seemed 
 to be affected by our discontent, and without other 
 noise, except the scuff of feet in the dust and a mut- 
 tered oath now and then in grim, determined silence, 
 we began our march. 
 
 But the complaints of Company I, which was directly 
 in front, kept coming over to us, keeping my comrades 
 in a chronic state of discontent. They had come into
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 85 
 
 possession of some liquor somehow, possibly from the 
 sutler, for he was a sympathizer in our troubles, and 
 that also added vehemence to their grumblings. 
 
 I think we would have gone along quietly enough if 
 left alone. Jake Bence was the most mutinous in our 
 company, and his growling was without effect, for he 
 was always at it ; but listening to the grumbling in 
 Company I, which was every moment becoming louder 
 and more excited, we were rapidly being wrought up 
 to about the same state of mutiny. 
 
 Besides, the sergeant of Company I was chiming in 
 with the men, and was as mutinous as any one. It 
 seemed to me, though, it was his duty to encourage a 
 cheerful obedience of orders rather than to discour- 
 age it. 
 
 Right in the midst of it, happening to look up, I saw 
 the captain standing on an embankment beside the 
 road watching the regiment, as company after company 
 marched past him. 
 
 No man's actions or bearing escaped him as the lines 
 marched by ; and although he seemed at ease, on his 
 face I plainly saw the same expression of anxiety that 
 I noticed there the day before. 
 
 Every muscle in his body was strung up to its high- 
 est tension. His face was paler than usual under its 
 coat of tan, and his eyes and hair never seem so black. 
 He saw clearly in what a demoralized condition his 
 command was, and knowing that something must be 
 done to improve it, was watching for the proper time 
 and place for action. Nor did he have long to wait, 
 for the steady marching brought Company I, with its 
 mutinous sergeant, directly in front of him. 
 
 The company was making its way along the road 
 with a shambling, devil-may-care gait for the most part, 
 and growling as they went.
 
 86 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 The sergeant had not seen the captain, probably, for 
 he was saying : 
 
 " To be cheated and gulled into re-enlistment, as we 
 have been, and then to expect us to quietly give in like 
 a lot of whipped dogs ! I tell you, boys, I 'm not going 
 through this sort of thing for another three years." 
 
 " There it goes," said I to Fred ; " somebody will 
 catch it now." 
 
 I had hardly spoken when the captain, with two steps, 
 stood beside the orderly. 
 
 " Give me your sword," he commanded sharply, at 
 the same moment snatching it from the sergeant's 
 hands. " You are under arrest ; go to the rear." 
 
 The action was so unexpected that the sergeant, 
 dumfounded, shrank back, and for a moment looked 
 at the captain irresolutely ; then, turning to the men, 
 ran his eyes quickly over their faces, as though seeking 
 some sign of encouragement. 
 
 The whole regiment had been watching the motions 
 of the captain, and, simultaneously with the arrest of 
 the sergeant, moved by a common impulse, broke from 
 the order of march, fell back, and gathered in a circle 
 around this center of interest. 
 
 In that center stood the captain, with his black eyes 
 flashing lightning as he swept the circle of faces, watch- 
 ing for the first sign of what was to come next. He 
 was playing for his life, and he knew it. He was one 
 man at bay, and encircled by a regiment six hundred 
 angry, desperate, reckless men. It was a moment to 
 try the stoutest heart. 
 
 As I followed the captain's angry glances around the 
 circle of faces, noting the well-conveyed indifference 
 to his peril, the extraordinary actions of Still Dick 
 caught my eye. He was leveling his musket over the 
 shoulder of his file leader, and had lowered his head to
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 87 
 
 take sight at the captain's breast, not a dozen feet away 
 from the muzzle of his gun. 
 
 Dick was as cool as ice. His wooden face was as 
 vacant of expression as if he were about to fire at a 
 target ; his eyes alone revealed, in their cold, glittering, 
 cruel glance, something of what was passing in his 
 mind. 
 
 The two men immediately in front of Vedder, when 
 they saw the gun barrel appear between them, stepped 
 quickly to one side, leaving the captain thus face to 
 face with his silent enemy, the most dangerous and 
 deadly-sure man among us, who held a loaded musket 
 at his breast, making preparations to fire. 
 
 It seemed as if the silence, broken only by the 
 " click," " click," as Vedder pulled back the hammer of 
 his gun, could be felt ; and, while the crowd behind 
 the captain separated to the right and left to be out of 
 the way, the rest of us, paralyzed by this deliberate 
 murderous intention, stood spellbound, and watched 
 every motion with strained eyes, expecting to see the 
 fire leap out, and our captain fall bleeding and dying 
 in the road. 
 
 Yet Vedder did not fire, and those moments of hesi- 
 tation seemed to our torturing suspense expanded into 
 hours of waiting. The man's face was changing, too ; 
 taking on an ashy pallor and becoming expressive, first 
 a black, determined scowl and tightening of the lips, 
 then a nervous twitching of the features and the gun 
 barrel began to waver. 
 
 Quicker than thought so quick, in fact that none of 
 us really saw it the captain's sword flashed up beneath 
 the gun-barrel, struck it a ringing blow, and the mus- 
 ket, knocked from Vedder's nerveless fingers, exploded 
 harmlessly above our heads. And, in dumb, motionless 
 astonishment, we stood staring at the two men until
 
 88 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 the captain, pointing with his sword tip the road, 
 cried : 
 
 " Now, men, to business ! Fall in !" * 
 
 The hard faces relaxed, the trouble was over. A sigh 
 of relief parted the lips of all ; and, as we fell into line, 
 some one iri Company I waved his cap in the air and 
 called for " Three cheers for our captain !" in a loud, 
 clear voice. They were given with a will, and it seemed 
 as if all the reckless desperation vanished in them, giv- 
 ing volume and power as it went out of the hearts of 
 men into harmless sound, ju.*. as a heap of powder 
 touched off in the open air bursts forth into harmless 
 flame and clouds of smoke. 
 
 " Forward ! March !" 
 
 Was it because we were in fear that we now so cheer- 
 fully obeyed this command ? Did we repent our mutinous 
 attitude when we saw our captain standing before the 
 muzzle of Vedder's gun ? Wer^ we ready now to give 
 over our grumbling and go in peace, because the officer 
 in command had so ordered ? Were we fickle ? Were 
 all the grumbling and threats so freely indulged in the 
 day before all idle bluster ? With me it might have 
 been so, but with the others it was not. A thousand 
 times, no ! 
 
 In that moment, when our captain faced Vedder, if 
 he had betrayed the slightest movement of a muscle, if 
 his eye had wavered from Vedder's by a hair's breadth, 
 
 * I often pause to wonder over this incident in our history. Why did 
 not Vedder flre 1 What power rested in the eye or will of our captain to 
 turn that man of all others from his purpose? What did the expressions 
 of Vedder's face mean, if they were not the outward signs of the struggle 
 in his mind? The determined scowl and tightening of the lips signifying 
 that his resolution was wavering, and he was trying to force it to stand 
 firm. 
 
 His mental strain must have been terrible ; but, though careless and 
 reckless of all consequences to do this one deed in the way it had to be 
 done, he had not the nerve. 
 
 The captain did not stain his victory with any harsh measures, and 
 Vedder, thoroughly cowed and trembling like one stricken in years, was 
 allowed to tramp on with rest.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 89 
 
 he would have fallen at our feet with a bullet in his 
 heart, and a little later six hundred veteran soldiers 
 would have been tramping away from that place, in per- 
 haps as many directions, going back to their homes. 
 
 It was the man who could look death in the face 
 without flinching, that had caused this revulsion of 
 feeling, had excited the admiration of his fellows, and 
 had conquered. Among soldiers, it is not the face nor 
 the form, nor anything else, that is admired except the 
 will, the indomitable will that knows no fear. What- 
 ever sort of man our captain might turn out to be, he 
 was at least a brave one. 
 
 All day long, up hill and down, through mud and 
 dust, in broiling sun and cooling shade, we tramped. 
 Though the shoulder-straps of our accouterments were 
 cutting into the flesh, though our feet were blistered, 
 still we did not complain. 
 
 . At last, almost at night, we came into a quiet valley 
 with pleasant fields beside the road, and fence rails for 
 fire wood. 
 
 "Halt!" came the command from the head of the 
 column. 
 
 Here we were to camp, and we knew it ; a tired but 
 unanimous cheer waked the echoes of the valley. 
 
 In a trice our guns were stacked ; the load was off 
 our backs ; fires were built and supper cooked. We 
 were contented almost happy ; for we were at rest. 
 
 The power of one man ; that power which had para- 
 lyzed Still Dick's finger on the trigger of the gun 
 aimed full at his breast ; which had quelled the mutiny 
 and kept us wearily but willingly plodding on through 
 dust and heat, all that livelong, tedious day, was over 
 us still : and when', at night, we gathered about the 
 cheerful camp-fires, with our pipes well filled, we came 
 to talk of that never-to-be-forgotten scene, as we re-
 
 90 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 called the heroism of the captain and in our minds' eye 
 saw him again standing unflinchingly before the muz- 
 zle of Vedder's rifle, horses were forgotten, and our 
 weariness lost sight of. 
 
 Would there be any more trouble, any more attempt 
 at mutiny ? 
 
 Never. The captain had conquered the whole regi- 
 ment made us as one man. There was not one among 
 us who would not have faced a battalion at his com- 
 mand. 
 
 Did we talk of horses ? 
 
 They might have been mentioned, but they were not 
 considered of so much importance now. The captain 
 had tried to get them, we said. The colonel was the 
 most to blame. He had fled, leaving another to take 
 his place and front his danger. 
 
 The veterans were loud in the captain's praise and 
 promised themselves that their old achievements would 
 be as nothing compared with the glory they would win 
 under such a leader. 
 
 The sentinels pacing the watch that night looked on 
 a different scene from the one I saw the night before. 
 They saw no restless excited forms about the dying 
 fires, heard no footsteps save their own. 
 
 Our regiment had, indeed, settled down to business. 
 We were on a war footing. One man had controlled 
 and united us into one huge machine, obedient to his 
 will. 
 
 We slept soundly, undisturbed by dreams of home or 
 friends or battles ; only for an instant, as I slept, Mary 
 seemed to be standing before me, and her eyes were 
 sad with tears. I seemed to be saying : " Now I am off 
 to the war"; and she vanished. 
 
 We awoke, footsore but refreshed. But we must " up 
 stakes " and be off.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 91 
 
 The distance travelled that day, however, was not 
 nearly so great as that of the day before, but at night 
 there was hardly one in the regiment who had not a 
 blister to remind him of the two days' tramp ; and then 
 we saw something of the spice and wit that flow so 
 easily about the campfires of soldiers on the march. 
 
 At Point Burnside our life had been like a picnic, in 
 a way. We had a few hours of drill and duty, it is 
 true, but there was no danger and no changing scene. 
 We had collected, besides, little conveniences bits of 
 comfort, as it were but these were now left behind, 
 and I was surprised to see how easily we got along 
 without them. The days then were all alike, but now 
 no one could tell what the next hour would bring 
 forth. 
 
 For several days we marched from place to place, 
 but no day's journey was as long as the first ; resting- 
 places were more frequent, and the hours of camp more 
 pleasant. Everybody seemed in excellent spirits. We 
 were well, though simply, fed. Our blisters were dis- 
 appearing, and our load was getting lighter. 
 
 We were marching in a northward direction through 
 Somerset, Waynesburg, Stanford, Danville ; thence 
 across to Lebanon, where we were put into cars and 
 landed at Louisville. 
 
 Here, many were mustered in, and after a few days 
 we were cooped up in box-cars on the road to the 
 front. 
 
 Travelling in box-cars is not the most comfortable 
 way of going from place to place, but we enjoyed it 
 nevertheless. 
 
 Many were the little devices we made up to make our 
 quarters comfortable. 
 
 By forage we collected hay and straw enough to 
 cover the floor of our cars, and on this we lay and
 
 92 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 dozed, or listened to such parts of the stories that were 
 told as the rattle of the train permitted us to 
 hear. 
 
 We were hastening toward the front, covering a great 
 deal of ground without marching, and without having, 
 as Jake said, "to take our accouterments;" and for all 
 this we were thankful. 

 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 After we had travelled thus by rail for two days or 
 more, I awoke one morning to the consciousness that 
 something must be wrong. 
 
 I had an idea that we should be rattling and slam- 
 * ming over the road as usual, but, on the contrary, the 
 train was now stopped, and the clatter I had gone to 
 sleep by having ceased, the silence of death seemed to 
 have taken its place. As I lay, for some moments, on 
 my bed of hay, drowsily pondering the situation, I be- 
 came more and more aware of the fact that most of my 
 comrades in the car had disappeared, and that the few 
 whom I still could see standing at the door between me 
 and the bright sunlight were talking together and 
 pointing in various directions. 
 
 Raising myself upon one elbow, my eyes first fell 
 upon a broad river sweeping by. There was no breeze 
 to ruffle its surface ; no merrily dancing sunlit waves , 
 nothing but a darkly flowing stream, smooth as a pol- 
 ished floor, sustaining a reflection of the opposite shore 
 on one side, and on the side nearest me a few wavering 
 creases of the surface marking the whirling eddies 
 underneath. 
 
 [93 1
 
 94 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 Beyond the stream I saw the outcropping rocks and 
 heavily-wooded hills of a very broken and moun- 
 tainous country. Taking the whole scene together, 
 it made an impression upon me that I shall not 
 soon forget. Whether due to the wild and rugged 
 character of the hills and mountains, standing out so 
 bold and striking in the clear, strong light of the morn- 
 ing, or to the resistless rush of the river, which I in- 
 stinctively felt rather than saw, or to the unwonted 
 stillness into which I had been so unconsciously and 
 suddenly plunged, or to a mingling of all thes* effects, 
 I cannot say ; but whatever it was, some time passed 
 before I could make up my mind whether I was really 
 awake or dreaming. 
 
 " What river is that ?" I asked, throwing off my blan- 
 ket and coming to my senses, at least sufficiently to ask 
 questions. 
 
 At the sound of my voice two comrades by the car 
 door turned around, and at the same time the heads of 
 several others appeared from the outside. What a shout 
 greeted me as they heard my voice, and what unflatter- 
 ing remarks were bestowed upon me ! 
 
 " Oh, you 're awake, are you ?" said one. 
 
 " If you are as much of a fighter as you are a sleeper 
 you will be a corporal before you know it," said an- 
 other. 
 
 " You 11 wake up some fine morning to find out that 
 we have wound up this war business and gone home," 
 contimied a third. 
 
 By this time my connection with the regiment had 
 taught me to take such shots at my greenness in the 
 right spirit, and to give, now and then, a volley in reply. 
 Begging them not to let such tender solicitude for me 
 disturb their sweet repose, I repeated my question as 
 to the name of the river which, now that I had come
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 95 
 
 to the car door and could get a better view of it, seemed 
 more magnificent than ever. 
 
 " That is the Tennessee," said Jake ; " somethin' of a 
 brook, ain't it ?" 
 
 There did seem, indeed, to be a large body of water 
 passing by, and I said so, which induced Bence to 
 remark that the river was specially high this season, 
 which may or may not have been the case ; I did not 
 know. 
 
 " But what are we stopping for, and where are we ?" 
 I asked. 
 
 " Don't get anxious, little one," said Bracebridge, a 
 particularly quiet, unimpressionable old veteran in our 
 party. " You know as much as the rest of us do." 
 
 Bence broke in here to remark that Fred and one 
 other of the boys had been seen near the head of the 
 train, with comrades from other companies, listening to 
 our captain, who had been in conference with a lot of 
 strange officials ; and that, probably, when he (Fred) 
 returned to our car, we would have some definite 
 information. 
 
 "And here they come now !" cried one of our men 
 from a position outside the car. 
 
 Shortly afterward Fred climbed in ; and we plied 
 him with questions to our heart's content. In the 
 meanwhile "All aboard!" had been called, and the train 
 began to move. 
 
 It seemed that we were within a few miles of Bridge- 
 port, Alabama that we would probably have to leave 
 the cars at that place and go the rest of the way on 
 foot, as the track to the rear of Sherman's army was 
 already overcrowded with trains. 
 
 " I gathered from the conversation in general," Fred 
 went on, " that we have about sixty miles to go, over a 
 part of the Racoon Mountains near Shellmound, to a
 
 96 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 place called Ringgold, where Sherman's army is, and 
 if we don't find him there, we 're to follow on until we 
 overtake him." 
 
 "Mighty poor pickings we '11 get after Sherman's 
 army," muttered Taylor. 
 
 " Well, we can be trusted to make up for it when we 
 get a chance," said Jake, sententiously. 
 
 "Yes," Fred broke in, "and it looks as if we 
 were going to get a chance right away, for the captain 
 said that he was going to take us over a road that had 
 not been travelled before." 
 
 "That 's the kind of talk !" we all cried, impulsively. 
 
 After this, Fred's stock of information having been 
 exhausted, we fell to discussing the fine prospects of 
 good foraging, which we might reasonably expect, if 
 the captain did what he hoped to do. 
 
 I felt as if walking would rest me after being cramped 
 up in a freight car for three days, and, not knowing 
 how the rest felt about it, I ventured to say as much. 
 This also shook down an avalanche of unflattering 
 remarks. 
 
 " That 's all very well, but you just poke your head out 
 here," cried Jake, seizing my arm and leading me to 
 the car-door. 
 
 We were rattling along over the road at a good rate 
 of speed at the time, and though there was a sameness 
 about the green wall of forest foliage that fronted us, 
 I could catch, now and then, through open spaces, 
 glimpses of rugged scenery and of the eternal hills 
 beyond. 
 
 " Yes," said I, " that is what I have been looking at 
 for some time." 
 
 "Well," said Jake, "those hills lie right across our 
 track, and by the time you have marched over them 
 two or three months and been in the service as long as
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 97 
 
 we have, you'll make up your mind that there 's no fun 
 in tramping up and down hill all the time." 
 
 " Besides," interrupted Kimball, feeling that the sub- 
 ject of walking should be tabooed, and anxious to talk of 
 something else, " we are going to find it a trifle hotter 
 in Alabama." 
 
 " A trifle !" cried Jake, as willing to grumble about 
 one thing as another. "A trifle ! it '11 be a heap hotter ; 
 the summer 's only just coming on, too." 
 
 In the midst of our good-natured chaffing, the train 
 came to a stop, and we were all ordered out. In a few 
 minutes more we had cleared the cars of everything 
 that belonged to us, and were marching up the track 
 beside the 'train. Afterward we passed through the 
 town and over a bridge to where we halted, to light our 
 fires for breakfast. 
 
 From this halting place, looking back across the 
 river, we could see Bridgeport and the railroad for 
 some distance, where long lines of empty cars were 
 waiting to pass the train which had brought us, and 
 start on their journey northward, for " more provisions 
 and more ammunition," it was said. 
 
 We learned, later, that we had enjoyed a special 
 favor in being transferred to the front in cars, as all 
 other regiments joining Sherman had been required to 
 march, because the railroad was taxed to its utmost in 
 carrying to the front ammunition and provisions. 
 
 As soon as breakfast was over, the command to " fall 
 in " was given and, as we stood in line, in the road, 
 fully equipped for whatever might happen, when we 
 had got fairly into the enemy's country, Captain Hartees 
 stepped in front of us and, calling : "Attention !" said : 
 
 " Men, we are just on the borders of a hostile country ; 
 our previous methods of marching will now have to 
 be changed ! I want you to keep close together from
 
 98 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 this time out. No straggling, remember ! I hope to 
 pass through a country that has not been tramped over 
 by both armies and, if we do, I believe you will en- 
 joy it." 
 
 Smiling, good-naturedly, as he concluded, he turned 
 away, took his place at the head of the line and, after 
 three rousing cheers -which we gave with a will, away 
 we went. 
 
 We followed the main road as far as Tyler, a small 
 town which we reached early in the afternoon. 
 
 There was nothing to be begged, bought, borrowed 
 or stolen in this place. It was literally cleaned out of 
 everything. 
 
 The few people still living there looked peaked, half- 
 starved and poor, indeed ; the rest had gone away, 
 leaving behind them only their houses and other im- 
 movable property. 
 
 We filled our canteens with fresh water, however, 
 and, after thoroughly satisfying ourselves that there 
 was nothing else worth taking, we moved on, leaving 
 the main road, at that place, to follow one that evidently 
 had been less traveled. 
 
 Along this new road we marched for three or four 
 hours, without seeing signs of habitation of any kind. 
 
 There were neither fences nor clearings, nor any- 
 thing but woods and breaks, and rocks, that sometimes 
 lay close to the edge of the road, but quite as often had 
 rolled in heaps into it, making our path the roughest 
 kind of walking. 
 
 Late in the afternoon we came to a clearing, in the 
 center of which stood a house. On one side the land- 
 scape was just beginning to turn green with young 
 shoots of corn. On the other side vegetables, of vari- 
 ous kinds, were planted and beginning to grow. At 
 the open door stood two small white-headed boys,
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 99 
 
 watching us as we turned in from the road ; and within 
 we caught sight of a red-cheeked woman. Her sleeves 
 were rolled up as if she had been cooking. 
 
 " Got any chicken ?" Fred asked of the woman who 
 came to the door, as soon as she discovered our ap- 
 proach. 
 
 " No, I aint got no chickens, nor anything else, 'cept 
 a duck and a drake, and those I don't want to sell." 
 
 " Sure you haven't ?" Fred insisted. " No use to hide 
 them, you know ; if you Ve got 'em we are goin' to 
 make a search for 'em. We'll buy 'em, but we'll have 
 'em sure." 
 
 " 1 tell you I aint got no chicks, nor ducks, nor nothin' 
 else. You'd better go on about your business. Come 
 here robbin* people !" 
 
 " Quack, quack, quack !" came from the back of the 
 house. The woman's face flushed as she started from 
 the door and ran round the house to a little pen that 
 stood behind, where we soon saw her struggling with 
 old Grimes for the possession of her duck, which was 
 flapping its wings violently and giving utterance to half- 
 strangled cries in a vain effort to get away from the 
 strong hand that had grasped its neck. 
 
 " It 's no use, mum," said Grimes ; " the duck 's a 
 goner. I '11 give you four bits for him, but he 's my 
 meat." 
 
 While she was fighting for one bird the other myste- 
 riously and noiselessly disappeared, and we were about 
 to investigate further when a beehive, that had been 
 upset to open a way to the honey, sent out a swarm of 
 maddened insects, and we fled before them. In spite 
 of the bees, however, some of the boys got a little 
 honey. 
 
 We left the young corn standing when we went, and 
 while our actions, looking back on them now, were
 
 100 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 unquestionably mean, it seemed to me at the time that 
 the woman, poor as she was, ought to have been grate- 
 ful to us for not taking everything, whether we wanted 
 it or not. 
 
 The next habitation that we discovered on our march 
 was a large, fine-looking mansion, having a double row 
 of balconies running entirely around the house, and 
 surrounded by numerous outbuildings. 
 
 The sun was on the point of setting when we arrived; 
 and in a moment, after we were ordered to halt, the 
 place was swarming with our blue-coated men. 
 
 I saw a private of Company I fix his bayonet and run 
 it through a young pig that, with several others, was 
 following its mother at full speed away from him. A 
 number of our company, Fred among them, joined in 
 chasing the pigs that had not been secured. 
 
 I, however, felt too tired to go running about after 
 pigs, and so, with others, selected the house as the 
 scene of my explorations. 
 
 As we approached we saw a few black faces shyly 
 peering at us from around the corners of the building, 
 but we saw no one either to welcome us or tq dispute 
 our right to enter and make ourselves at home. 
 
 Entering, we gave attention first to the cellar where 
 we found, among other things, a half -barrel of peach 
 brandy, some preserves and thirty or forty pounds of 
 honey. When we came up we found the owner of the 
 place. 
 
 We had no particular use for him, but he was a sight 
 that, in spite of us, claimed our attention for some little 
 time. 
 
 He stood on the stairs cursing and calling down all 
 sorts of maledictions on the heads of Yankee soldiers, 
 in general, and upon us in particular ; and his fingers 
 worked as though he would have liked to have a clutch
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 101 
 
 
 
 upon each and every one of us ; but he did not have it 
 and seeing, probably, that we were a few too many for 
 him, contented himself with words only. After silent- 
 ly enjoying his antics for a little while, we left 
 him, talking as loudly and as blasphemously as 
 ever. 
 
 Loaded down with bacon, honey, corn-meal, pre- 
 serves., brandy and wheat flour, we left the house and 
 joined some of the boys in the road. Other comrades 
 were coming from all points of the compass, some with 
 chickens, ducks, peas, fresh pork ; some with one thing 
 and some with another ; and, while we waited, out of 
 the woods, away up on the other side of the road, came 
 perhaps a dozen others, bearing on a fence rail several 
 portions of a cow which they had found and killed. 
 
 There was little use in our attempting to go much 
 farther that night, and it was with gladdened hearts 
 that we received orders to bivouac where we were. In 
 a short time a guard had been thrown out around the 
 house and the regiment ; rail-fences were then pulled 
 down, fires lighted, and in a short time a glorious feast 
 was preparing. We had plenty of everything that 
 night, and all at the expense of one man who, thus far, 
 had evidently not been treated to a taste of war. 
 
 There were a charm and a romance about this sort of 
 thing which rather pleased me, and I began to see 
 something of the glamour that surrounds the soldier's 
 life and leads him to reenlist in spite of ties of blood 
 and home. 
 
 Hay and straw from a well-filled barn supplied us 
 with comfortable roadside beds, and the next morning, 
 a little after sunrise, our breakfast eaten, we took to 
 the road again. 
 
 Since starting, we had been marching in column ; 
 now, however, our company were deployed as skinn-
 
 102 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 ishers on the right of the regiment which was following 
 the road. 
 
 Fred explained to me, as we tramped along, that 
 marching thus, something in the shape of a letter T, 
 with a line of skirmishers thrown out each side from 
 the head of the column, we covered more ground, and 
 guarded more completely against surprises from the 
 enemy. 
 
 The rest of the regiment marching in the road found 
 no difficulty in getting along but for our company, 
 scattered in a long line at right angles to the regiment, 
 with about twenty or twenty-five feet between each 
 man, this method of marching was hard work. With 
 no road or beaten path to walk in, we were compelled 
 to force our way up and down hill, through woods and 
 creeks, and swamps and tangled jungles and places 
 where it seemed as if the foot of man had never trod- 
 den before. 
 
 Sometimes we, at the further end of the line, would 
 come in sight of the road from a clearing on the top of 
 some hill, a quarter of a mile distant ; then the road 
 would be lost to sight for an hour, perhaps. Occasion- 
 ally we were walking comfortably along over some 
 sparsely wooded hill, where the bright sunlight poured 
 through the branches above us, and in a moment after- 
 ward we were plunging through the tangled under- 
 growth of some densely wooded dell, always trying to 
 maintain our distances, keep up with the left of the 
 line, move when the regiment moved, and halt when it 
 halted. 
 
 Dismal and lonely, with no other sign of life except 
 the whir from the wings of some bird, that had been 
 startled from its meditative solitude by our approach 
 or the far-off sound of " H-a-l-t !" or "At-ten-tion !" as it 
 was borne to us on the quiet air.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 103 
 
 On one occasion, after we had been tramping for a 
 long time over this rugged country without resting, 
 Fred discovered a little clearing and a house hidden 
 away off to the right. It was a spot that did not appear 
 to ever have been visited by foragers from either army. 
 
 Just at that moment it also happened that our boys 
 in the road were called to a halt. Here was an oppor- 
 tunity for our own exclusive investigation that was too 
 good to be resisted ; and, stimulated by the same 
 impulse, tired as we were, we started on the run for the 
 clearing. 
 
 As we drew nearer we saw a little shanty, or curing- 
 house, which held forth a promise of tobacco. A few 
 steps farther, and we saw hidden in a hollow a little stone 
 building sitting astride a brook, evidently a spring- 
 house, where milk, butter and eggs were kept. The 
 promise of something more than tobacco was enough 
 to divert our attention from the shanty, and when the 
 spring-house was reached it was but the work of a 
 moment to remove the wooden pin from the staple, pall 
 back the hasp, open the door and walk in. 
 
 The room we entered was not above six feet high 
 and, perhaps, ten feet square. It was provided with a 
 brick floor, in the middle of which, running from wall 
 to wall, and through a stone-lined ditch about two feet 
 wide and eight inches deep, flowed a stream of clear 
 cold water from a neighboring spring. 
 
 A single crock of fresh milk sat cooling in the water. 
 
 "They did not hide that, did they?" said Fred. 
 " But," reflectively, " they 've hidden the cow." 
 
 " We are not going to find fault with the milk for that," 
 said I. 
 
 It was surprising how careless of dirt I had become 
 after being a soldier for so short a time. I rubbed the 
 dust from my fire-blackened tin dipper as well as I
 
 104 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 could against a wisp of grass that grew by the door, 
 and scooped up a dipper full of milk. 
 
 Fred, who had filled his dipper before me, did not 
 even take the trouble to clean it ; just hit it against the 
 wall of the building. 
 
 After drinking our fill, we poured what milk was left 
 into our canteens and looked searchingly around for 
 something more. 
 
 " What's above here, I wonder ?" said Fred, looking 
 upward. 
 
 I glanced up and saw, just over my head, a square 
 hole cut in the flooring. Raising myself through the 
 hole by my hands, I got my head above the level of the 
 floor and, with Fred's assistance underneath, was soon 
 sprawling up there in the darkness. 
 
 " Find anything ?" Fred asked, expectantly. 
 
 " Yes ; here 's some tobacco." 
 
 " Throw it down." 
 
 I threw down half a dozen heads at least all I could 
 find, at any rate and continued my search. 
 
 " Here 's some beans or peas ; I don't know which 
 they are," said I, after a few "moments' search. 
 
 " Let 's have 'em. We do not get peas or beans either 
 while marching." 
 
 Down went the beans. 
 
 I felt along a little further and came upon a small 
 barrel which seemed to be half full of something, as, 
 when tipped to one side, it fell back heavily into its 
 upright position. 
 
 " What is it?" said Fred, hearing the jar on the floor. 
 
 " I don't know. It 's heavy, like sirup." 
 
 " Perhaps it is honey strained honey. They hide it 
 in that way sometimes. It takes up less room." 
 
 We were in a bee country, and had found some honey 
 the day before. Why should not this be honey? I
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 105 
 
 reached my hand down into the barrel until it came 
 in contact with a soft, sticky fluid. There could be no 
 doubt about it. My imagination swam in honey. I 
 did not have my share of yesterday's find, and with 
 that in mind, perhaps, my anticipation now was the 
 more lively. 
 
 "Well/* cried Fred, somewhat impatiently, "what 
 are you going to do about it ?" 
 
 " I smelt of it and imagined that it smelt very much 
 like honey." 
 
 "Smells like it, "said I. 
 
 " Taste it, or else let me," said Fred, impatiently, 
 catching hold of the side of the floor. 
 
 I took one taste and that was enough. It was 
 nauseating. It seemed as if I never could get that 
 taste out of my mouth, try as hard as I might. 
 
 " Dash it, it 's soft soap !" I cried, fairly shivering with 
 disgust, and my face, particularly the mouth part of it, 
 went through all sorts of contortions at the same time, 
 which were of course, lost in the darkness. 
 
 Fred who was looking up in expectation uttered a 
 snort, half of disappointment and half of enjoyment it 
 my ludicrous mishap and said : 
 
 " Never mind, pass me down a dipperful " and I 
 saw his hand with the dipper sticking up through the 
 hole, and I heard him say, as I was filling it : 
 
 " I wish I had time to wash a shirt."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 That night there came up a violent rainstorm that 
 seemed to have been sent purposely to unpleasantly 
 vary our experience. How long it had been raining 
 before I woke I did not know ; but I was fully conscious 
 of the fact that one corner of our tent had broken 
 away from its fastening and was flapping in the wind, 
 that my feet were in a pool of water and that I was 
 literally drenched. 
 
 As sleep was out of the question, I put my head 
 through my poncho [rubber blanket] and went to a 
 sputtering fire that some of the boys had kept well 
 supplied with wood. To get dry was impossible. I 
 could only keep warm. 
 
 One after another of our rain-soaked and thoroughly 
 demoralized comrades joined us at the fire, where we 
 spent the night feeding the blaze, rubbing our eyes, 
 which smarted with smoke, and toasting our calves 
 and shins. 
 
 By daylight the rain had ceased, and we were able to 
 wring the water out of our blankets and tents and 
 partly dry them by the fire before breakfast. 
 
 When our morning meal was finished and our damp 
 
 blankets and tents were rolled up, we went trailing and 
 
 sloshing along, through mud and wet, as disconsolate- 
 
 and gloomy-looking a column and skirmishing line as 
 
 [106]
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 107 
 
 ever ventured into an enemy'g country. Shortly after 
 we started a drizzling rain set in and continued through- 
 out the day. 
 
 The boys all put on their ponchos, from the corners 
 of which the water flowed in streams and, in this 
 picturesque condition, carrying our muskets at a " se- 
 cure," we plodded along hour after hour. 
 
 There was little or no comfort to be gained from the 
 " rests," for the ground was soaked with water, and 
 sometimes we went in over our shoe-tops in the soft 
 earth. About the only bit of pleasantry offered during 
 the day came from Fred, who said : 
 
 " I did hope to get time enough to wash a shirt ; but 
 it 's all right now. All I need is to dry it." 
 
 The only encouragement we received came late in 
 the afternoon from " Black Lige," who, with a couple of 
 fat chickens in each hand, passed us, singing softly to 
 himself : 
 
 " Nebber min' de wedder so de win' don' blow, 
 Nebber min' de wedder so de win' don' blow, 
 Nebber min' de wedder so de win' don' blow, 
 Don' yer bodder 'bout yer trouble till it comes." 
 
 Here was a bit of philosophy for me ; for our situa- 
 ation, bad as it was, would have been infinitely worse 
 had there been any wind blowing. The life of a soldier, 
 in fine weather, had thus far possessed for me an inde- 
 scribable charm ; but a soaking rain was something I 
 had not bargained for, and but for the sentiment con- 
 tained in the song of Black Lige, my patriotism, 
 which was already at a low ebb, would have disappeared 
 altogether. 
 
 All day long we had marched over hills and moun- 
 tains, and into valleys so deserted and lonesome that 
 they seemed isolated from the rest of the world ; now 
 threading our way along ridges so narrow that a dozen
 
 108 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 men could scarcely walk abreast ; at other times slowly 
 pushing through the heavy wet undergrowth in deep 
 defiles, with towering, perpendicular cliffs on either side. 
 
 The sun was already getting low and the prospect of 
 finding a. good camping spot for the night was dreary 
 and cheerless enough, but after a while, coming to the 
 top of a hill, we saw, in the valley below, a small village 
 nestled among the trees. 
 
 A little brook, concealed here and there by bushes, 
 threaded its way close by the village. Along the banks 
 of this rivulet everything was fresh and green, while 
 the foliage in the country beyond looked, in the murky 
 atmosphere, as if it needed a week of steady rain to 
 redeem it. 
 
 " There 's a good place for a bivouac," said I, point- 
 ing to an open field, near the village. 
 
 " Yes, looks as well as you might expect on a day 
 like this, but there are too many houses around. Too 
 many houses. You never know what to expect when 
 you camp near a town," Jake answered thoughtfully. 
 
 " But you don't call that a town, do you ? There are 
 only a few houses, and they certainly look honest 
 enough." 
 
 " Looks don't count for much down here. It don't 
 take much of a town to stir up a hornet's nest, where 
 there 's a few lively rebs living. Just give 'em a 
 chance, and they 're like a lot of wolves ; they '11 sound 
 an alarm, and bring a whole pack down on you. I had 
 a taste of it once up in East Tennessee, in 'sixty-two." 
 
 " Come, men," said Corporal Stebbins, " we 're goin' to 
 camp on the other side of that town below there ; nice 
 place, heaps of rails, straw, water." 
 
 " What, water ?" interrupted Jake, sarcastically. 
 
 " Yes, and everything else we want. Move along a 
 little faster, men. Let's get down there as soon
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 109 
 
 as the column does and have our fires started before 
 it 's any darker." 
 
 Stimulated by this cheering bit of information, we 
 put more vigor into our movements, and, after passing 
 one or two houses, reached a broad, level bottom-land, 
 where we halted and went into camp for the night. We 
 seemed to be in a sort of basin, surrounded by woods, 
 and only a short distance removed from the town, 
 which consisted of a dozen or more old tumble-down 
 houses, scattered along, at irregular intervals, by the 
 side of the road. These houses were without paint 
 and falling to pieces, and we would have thought them 
 tenantless if we had not seen two or three men stand- 
 ing about the doorways, who acted as if they had a 
 right there. The fences, that had formerly inclosed 
 the yards from the road, were all down, leaving only a 
 post here and there to mark the place they had occu- 
 pied. 
 
 The road itself showed signs of having been used at 
 some time or other, but it was now cut by deep ruts 
 and washouts, and the grass grew rank there. Alto- 
 gether, it was a- sleepy, deserted place, firm in the grip 
 of decay. 
 
 The zigzag fences in the fields gave us firewood ; and, 
 after a little patient effort, we got a fire started and 
 went to work to cook our supper. 
 
 The two or three men we had seen at last gathered 
 courage sufficient to satisfy their curiosity as to what 
 sort of beings we were, and came cautiously slouching 
 along the road through the camp, watching, with hun- 
 gry, wide-open eyes and mouths, our boys cooking 
 supper. They did not improve in looks on near view. 
 They were thin, lank, barefooted and dressed in tat- 
 tered clothes ; their beards were tangled, their long 
 hair uncombed, and their faces almost imbecile for
 
 110 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 want of expression. They were the poor whites, cor- 
 responding to what are called " Crackers " in some parts 
 of the South. 
 
 " Hello, stranger," cried Fred to one of them. " What 
 do you call the name of this place ?" 
 
 " 'Coon Bottom," drawled the man, discharging a 
 mouthful of tobacco juice upon the ground. 
 
 " That 's for Raccoon Bottom ?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes, 'Coon Bottom," he repeated, looking at me out 
 of the corners of his yellow eyes. 
 
 "Can we get any milk here !" inquired Fred, as he 
 blew out the blaze on a piece of bacon he had been 
 holding in the fire. 
 
 "No cows," drawled the bushwhacker. 
 
 " Got anything at all ?" Fred asked again. 
 
 " Nope." 
 
 " Seen anything of Sherman's army ?" 
 
 " Nope." 
 
 " Do you belong here ?" 
 
 " Yep," and he skulked off after his companions, who 
 had gone on ahead. 
 
 " Didn't get much out of that chap, did you, Fred ?" 
 said I. 
 
 " No ; he didn't seem very anxious to talk." 
 
 " I wonder if they are all like that down here in these 
 parts ?" 
 
 " Whether they are or not," Bence broke in, " there 's 
 a devilish grin in their ugly faces that I don't like, and I 
 can't feel easy in this place, wet or dry. Wish we were 
 out of it." 
 
 So do I, if there is any harm in staying !" said I. 
 " The guard will have to keep their ears open to-night." 
 
 " Of course they will," answered Bence. " But what '11 
 that amount to, if there 're any bushwhackers lying 
 around here? They '11 sneak up on the best of us.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. Ill 
 
 These fellows will be away to give the alarm long be- 
 fore we can surround the place and keep them in with 
 a picket." . 
 
 " Well, I suppose we '11 stay, whatever comes !" 
 
 " Yes," he responded ; then, pointing to the hill, he 
 said : " There, what do you think of that ?" 
 
 I looked in the direction indicated and saw, fading in 
 the gloom, on the top of the hill, the dark forms of 
 three men. 
 
 " That looks like trouble for us," Fred remarked, 
 tersely. He, also, had followed the direction of Jake's 
 finger. " But, perhaps not," he added. " I hope not." 
 
 Shortly after supper the storm ceased, the clouds 
 parted, the stars came out, and the air became clear and 
 warm. After we had partly dried our clothing the fires 
 were allowed to die away, and the regiment, with the 
 exception of the guard, was soon asleep. 
 
 I was suddenly startled from my dreams by a wild 
 yell, a volley of musketry and the whistling of bullets. 
 Every man of us was on his feet in an instant. But, 
 by the time we had seized our weapons and rallied to 
 repel our enemy, there was nothing to be seen in the 
 darkness -except the woods and the black outlines of 
 the houses here and there. Neither was there a sound 
 to be heard, save the thud and thump of horses' hoofs 
 retreating up the road. 
 
 Replenishing our fires with more broken fence rails, 
 we found, by the light, that Peter Baker, one of the 
 boys in Company D, had been killed outright and per- 
 haps a dozen others had been slightly wounded. Un- 
 doubtedly more would have been killed if the enemy 
 had fired at us at a little shorter range. 
 
 There was nothing we could do about it except to 
 attend the wounded and await further developments. 
 The camp was soon as deathly still as the dead form
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 of our comrade, lying motioness beside us, and there 
 yet remained many dark hours of the night in which I 
 might think it over. I was glad when I saw the day 
 break ; happier still when the sun rose above the edge 
 of the woods. 
 
 At an early hour, and after another, and this time 
 successful, effort to dry our blankets, and when every- 
 thing was ready to resume our march, we were drawn 
 up in line and addressed by Captain Hartees. 
 
 " Men," said he, " before we leave this place we must 
 bury Peter Baker, who was shot last night by that gang 
 of cowardly ruffians who fired upon us when we were 
 asleep." 
 
 Two men detailed from Peter's company had already 
 dug a grave at the foot of a huge butternut tree, in the 
 bark of which a comrade had cut a large cross. 
 
 While they were bringing the body, wrapped in a 
 blanket, to lay it in the grave, we could see the hang- 
 dog, sulking vagabonds of the village collecting on the 
 other side of a distant fence. 
 
 This was the first death in our regiment and, coming 
 as it did, in a time of comparative peace, it oppressed 
 us with a sorrow more than usually keen and, as we 
 stood in silence about the grave, we marked well the 
 indifferent curiosity of the people who were watching 
 and grinning at us from behind the fence. 
 
 It x was not the chance of battle, but an assasin's bullet 
 that took a comrade from our ranks forever, and many 
 a savage scowl came to the bronzed faces of my com- 
 panions ; many a muttered threat passed from mouth 
 to mouth, against the wretches who were responsible 
 for this thing. 
 
 When the body had been lowered to its last resting- 
 place and the grave had been filled in, Captain Hartees, 
 said :
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 113 
 
 " I want Comrade Baker's company to fire a volley 
 over his grave. Fall into line, Company D, on the 
 other side of the road." 
 
 Baker's company then fell into line as ordered, and 
 at the word of command, faced about, bringing them- 
 selves opposite to the distant fence, with the men from 
 the village partly concealed behind it. 
 
 " Ready !" ordered the captain. 
 
 " Captain !" cried the orderly sergeant of the com- 
 pany, " these guns are all loaded with ball." 
 
 " Silence ! Aim." 
 
 " But, captain " said the sergeant, not wishing to be 
 misunderstood. 
 
 " Fire ! Right face ! Forward march !" 
 
 We had little time and still less inclination to see 
 what the effect of that volley had been upon the people 
 in the vicinity of the fence, but there was evidently 
 some excitement over there, from the appearance of 
 things. 
 
 " Served 'em right," said Fred ; " I only hope the seed 
 we planted fell into proper ground. This is the second 
 time we have been served like this by trusting these 
 people." 
 
 " It is a little rough if we 've punished the innocent 
 for the guilty," said I. 
 
 " There hain't no innocent," muttered Jake ; "all those 
 were gone long ago." 
 
 Resuming our order of march, we moved on without 
 a word. I was thinking of him who had been left 
 asleep under the butternut-tree, and wondering when 
 my turn would come. 
 
 Nothing unusual happened to us that day. We picked 
 up forage enough to give diversity to our meals ; 
 enjoyed the usual number of halts, and grumbled over 
 the same amount of tiresome marching as on the day
 
 114 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 before. At night, tired, as usual, we came to a halt in 
 an uninhabited valley, and, after a supper from our 
 rations and forage, we turned in and slept, undisturbed. 
 
 The next day and the next we went through the 
 same round of changes, from rest to motion and back 
 again, up hill and down, with nothing especially new 
 to excite us, until the life seemed to be getting about 
 as monotonous as our existence had been at Point Burn- 
 side. 
 
 On the evening of the second day after we left Rac- 
 coon Bottom, we marched down through Rossville, and 
 there reached the main road. We did not halt in the 
 village, but marched two or three miles beyond it and 
 bivouacked for the night.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The day following our arrival in Rossville was Sun- 
 day, the 8th of May ; but, notwithstanding the sacred- 
 ness of the day, we were on the march as early and we 
 marched as far. 
 
 There was so little to attract the attention on this 
 monotonous tramp that I kept continually thinking of 
 the changes time brings about. In my mind's eye I 
 could see my New England home, the village of Way- 
 town, steeped in Sabbath stillness. The shops were 
 closed and the roadways full of pious people, in response 
 to the tolling bells directing their way, with sober faces, 
 to church. I wondered if Tommy was among the num- 
 ber. What a difference there was between that scene 
 and the one of which we formed a part ! 
 
 I thought of old Joe ; of the sounding horn, and of 
 the scene in front of the tavern on the night he brought 
 in the news that Fort Sumter had been fired on, and 
 then the stranger now our captain reading to us in 
 the tavern. How curiously it had all come about ! I 
 thought of the disturbance and of my father. Poor 
 father, a rarely good man at heart and made fretful 
 only by sickness. How it all came back to me, and 
 how little I then realized that the war would last long 
 enough for me to have a part in it. 
 
 "$]
 
 116 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 This days' tramp was not as interesting as those of 
 the few days before, because, now that we were follow- 
 ing the main army road, those little delicacies obtained 
 in the fresh country we had passed through were no 
 longer to be had, even by Black Lige, the most sharp- 
 eyed genius for foraging in the regiment. Everything 
 eatable and drinkable, with the exception of water, had 
 been already seized, devoured or drunk by the hordes 
 of Confederates and Unionists that had preceded us. 
 Indeed, the region in which we now were had been 
 well stripped by the enemy before Sherman arrived, 
 and our people finished that work completely. 
 
 I was now more accustomed to marching, and, realiz- 
 ing more fully that every step was taking me nearer to 
 the front, I did not lack food for thought and excite- 
 ment with which to brace my nerves. Almost any- 
 thing, I thought, would be better than tramping through 
 that desolate and devastated country ; but the proba- 
 bility that only a day or so more of such work would 
 put us in the midst of action did much toward reconcil- 
 ing me to the present. 
 
 In this day's march we passed through two or three 
 villages, or rather groups of houses, but made no halt 
 among them. The houses looked so empty and deserted, 
 with windows open and doors agape and no signs of 
 life anywhere, that none of the boys were tempted to 
 investigate. 
 
 All along the line of march we were constantly dis- 
 covering evidences of the wreck and waste of war, and 
 of the myriads of men that had marched that way 
 before us, and were then 'pressing hard upon the enemy 
 behind the hills in front. 
 
 The fences had vanished from the roadside and from 
 the fields as far as we could see. Here and there we 
 came upon groups of blackened circular places which
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 117 
 
 marked the location of camp fires. At times these 
 blackened spots were numberless, dotting the ground 
 for miles around. The turf was cropped short by 
 horses, torn up by their hoofs, and scored into deep ruts 
 by gun-carriage wheels. The lower branches of the 
 trees also, those within reach of a horse's teeth, were 
 stripped of leaves ; the bark had been gnawed from the 
 tree trunks, shrubs and bushes had been torn up by the 
 roots, and skeleton twigs and branches lay scattered 
 about. 
 
 The banks of the water-courses showed the plainest 
 traces of the army. There, in the moist ground, as far 
 up and down the stream as we could see, were the 
 tracks of brogans, bare feet, hoofs and wheels, just as 
 they had been left when the feet were drawn out or the 
 wheels rolled on. If we had had no idea before, we 
 learned from these tracks what it was that had ground 
 the earth up into the fine dust that now rose about us 
 in stifling clouds at the softest footfall or lightest 
 breath of wind, and, floating away, covered houses, 
 trees, grass and shrubs with a thick, dry coat of yellow- 
 ish gray. 
 
 In this bed of dust we were constantly turning up 
 all manner of things which the army had cast away: 
 broken wheels, bits of harness, worn-out shoes, hats, 
 under-clothing, broken canteens, battered dippers 
 everthing that was useless, worn out or cumbersome. 
 
 In a little rivulet stood, or rather lay, an army wagon. 
 The forward wheels had been dished as the wagon 
 came down the steep bank to enter the stream, and 
 there it lay, emptied of everything except the smell o 
 pork brine. One end of the wagon was beneath the 
 surface of the stream, and the water rippled through 
 and around it, while the dirty white cover flapped lazily 
 in the breeze.
 
 118 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 Such were some of the scenes we met in that country 
 on that Sunday march. It seemed as if Sherman had 
 used the country as the men did their shoes and their 
 clothing used it up and then dropped it in the dust. 
 
 That night we arrived at Ringgold, a town somewhat 
 larger than any we had passed through and decidedly 
 more populous ; for, although the former inhabitants 
 had, in great measure, disappeared, there were blue- 
 coats enough to take their places. Here was another 
 new and striking scene for me. In the place of white 
 tents scattered through the fields, there were the yellow- 
 white covers of army wagons, drawn up on the lawns 
 beside the road. They were the baggage and supply 
 wagons of Sherman's army, which could not now be far 
 in advance of us. In these wagons, also, I found most 
 positive proof that we were not advancing alone into 
 the enemy's country, but that not far away, though 
 hidden now by intervening hills, we should find the 
 encampment of friends. I even went so far as to care- 
 fully scan the country in front of me, to see if I could 
 catch the gleam of a tent. 
 
 While some of the boys were building a fire, I started, 
 coffee-pot in hand, for a well that stood near and, while 
 waiting among a crowd of others for my turn at the 
 bucket, I noticed, a short distance away, a pretentious- 
 looking mansion, which must have belonged to the 
 village magnate. The air of former grandeur and 
 present desolation that pervaded it attracted me so 
 strongly that I approached it to get a better view. 
 
 No noise broke the stillness surrounding the place, 
 nothing was heard except the rumble of some distant 
 wagon or the low growls of the tired and foot-sore 
 soldiers about the well. The doors to the house were 
 gone ; the windows were open, and without shutters or 
 curtains ; everything wide open and staring, like the
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 119 
 
 eyes of a dead man. Tastefully laid-out flower beds 
 were trampled out of all shape ; urns had been over- 
 turned and broken, and the contents, roots and mold, 
 scattered over the trodden turf. All around lay broken 
 pieces of crockery and of furniture. The marble steps 
 and the floor of the veranda were covered with dust 
 and dented with musket butts. Inside, I saw what had 
 once been a piano ; the cover off, the strings all broken 
 and snarled, and a jagged hole in the sounding board, 
 where a musket butt had been smashed down through 
 it, shredding it into splinters ; and as if this were not 
 enough, the keys of the piano had been broken and 
 some of them were sticking straight up into the air. 
 
 If the house and its contents had been fired and con- 
 sumed, I should have passed the place without thought ; 
 but, standing, as it did, in desolation and ruin, with that 
 unmusical ghost of luxury in the parlor, it left a picture 
 in my mind that I would gladly be freed from ; a pic- 
 ture which is like a lasting reproach. 
 
 But little time was left me for gloomy reflections as 
 I was soon startled into consciousness of myself and 
 my duties on that occasion, by the voice of one of our 
 company who, in language more emphatic than choice, 
 demanded what I was doing there with the family 
 coffee-pot ? 
 
 That evening I hurried through supper, that I might 
 use the fading daylight to add a few more lines to the 
 letter that, at every opportunity for several days, I had 
 been writing to Mary. Not an hour slipped by without 
 some thought of her ; not a day without some addition 
 to this letter, which I had carried in my knapsack. At 
 Point Burnside the mail had arrived regularly ; but, 
 since the day of our leaving that place, I had received 
 no letter, and, compelled to be satisfied with the ones I 
 already had, I lived in anticipation of the one that must
 
 120 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 be waiting for me with the army in front. This even- 
 ing, not knowing how long it might be before our regi- 
 ment would be plunged into the very heart of strife, I 
 was especially anxious to improve the opportunity for 
 writing. 
 
 I had now determined to bring my letter to a close, 
 so as to post it in Ringgold, but it was a hard thing for 
 me to do ; there were so many little things to be said, 
 so many pledges to be repeated, that I lingered over 
 the epistle until the daylight was all spent ; then, under 
 the shadow of the rapidly approaching night, I folded 
 up the letter, and, almost with a wish that I might carry 
 it myself, placed it in the bag with other mail for the 
 north. 
 
 After this I joined Fred, Jake and others of our com- 
 pany, who were just starting out to find the provost 
 guard, and from this source learn the latest news. 
 
 We did not find the provost guard, but discovered a 
 group of wagoners, which answered our purpose quite 
 as well. 
 
 The wagons were standing on the turf of an unfenced 
 yard beside the road, and in their order of arrangement 
 formed a crescent, between the arms of which brightly 
 blazed a most extravagant fire, that lighted up a picture 
 of camp-life comfort which left nothing to be desired. 
 The men looked contented, fresh and must have been 
 supremely happy in the knowledge that, when ordered 
 to move forward, they could either ride or walk, as best 
 suited them ; and they seemed to be experts in the art 
 of " taking things easy." There were men reclining on 
 wagon tongues, others seated by the fire, and others 
 luxuriously stretched at full length on wagon seats, 
 lazily watching the play of light and shadow on the 
 scene in front. 
 
 They were evidently just finishing supper, as some of
 
 THE GUN- BEARER. 121 
 
 them still held half-emptied dippers of coffee ; while 
 others, with pipes already lighted, were enjoying a 
 quiet smoke. Somebody was saying as we came 
 up: 
 
 " It 's surprising how well they do feed us !" 
 
 " I tell you," said another, " there 's many a poor 
 chap in the army, doing garrison duty at some fort, 
 struggling with salt horse and smacking his lips over 
 it ; while we, always on the move, get fresh beef," and 
 the speaker jerked the coffee dregs out of his dipper 
 under the wagon behind me. " But, hello ! Who 
 comes here?" 
 
 All eyes were instantly turned toward us, and one 
 man, while he gazed at us inquiringly, said, in reply to 
 the last speaker : 
 
 " Yes, and we are goin' to have it right along ! The 
 old man " [meaning Sherman] " knows enough to keep 
 communication with his base of supplies and good food 
 coming forward all the time." Then to us, while he 
 puffed hard at a short clay pipe : " Reckon you belong 
 to that new regiment, don't you ?" 
 
 It occurred to me at that moment that I had never 
 before heard so harsh a voice. 
 
 " Yes," I answered. 
 
 " What may it be ?" 
 
 " Twelfth Kentucky." 
 
 " What division ?" 
 
 " Cox's," said Fred. 
 
 " That 's the Twenty-third Corps, Scofield's !" 
 
 " You 're right," we answered. 
 
 " Have some coffee ?" 
 
 " No, been to supper," responded Fred. 
 
 We advanced to the fire, took positions that suited us 
 best, and opened on the mule drivers with our questions, 
 Jake being the first to speak,
 
 122 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " What 's goin' on ? Why are you all here ?" he asked 
 with his usual drawl, addressing no one in particular. 
 
 Two or three made ready to reply, but he of the 
 harsh voice and the obstinate pipe, anticipating the 
 others, replied : 
 
 " You, see, the old man's got things about right to 
 begin work, and he 's begun. Ain't he, boys ?" 
 
 " Yes," one or two voices replied, and one pleasant- 
 voiced fellow near me continued, this time getting the 
 start of the harsh voice : 
 
 " One fine morning, two days ago, the boys got orders 
 to lay in ten days' rations, and started off ; they left all 
 the baggage wagons here." 
 
 "They "11 be back in about four days," interrupted 
 the harsh voice. 
 
 " Don't you believe it," said the pleasant voice. 
 " They won't be back here for some time. Old Sher- 
 man is goin' to push the Johnnies, as they were never 
 pushed before." 
 
 " How many men are there with Sherman ?" asked 
 Fred. 
 
 " Some say one figure, and some another, but they 
 all fix it about one hundred thousand." 
 
 "Is this all the baggage there is?" I asked with a 
 surprised look at the little groups of wagons. 
 
 "That 's what it is, baggages for the whole army, 
 'cept what the company mules took." 
 
 " How is that ?" I asked ; but, feeling immediately 
 that this was a question calculated to show my ignor- 
 ance, I glanced at Fred's face to see if he disapproved 
 of it. Judge of my silent relief when I saw plainly 
 that he was as much in the dark as I had been. 
 
 " You see," said our pleasant friend in explanation, 
 "each company has a mule and a darkey to drive it, and 
 between the two they carry all the cooking things."
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 123 
 
 ** Oh, I tell you," said the harsh voice, " the old man 
 knows how to save lugging, and they do say that the 
 boys have better fixin's than the general officers." 
 
 " But where 's our division ?" asked Fred of a soldier 
 between him and me. 
 
 " Let me see," said the man addressed ; then, taking 
 his pipe out of his mouth, cried : 
 
 "Say, Bill, where 's Scofield and the Twenty-third 
 Corps ? Down at the Roost ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered Bill, from the other side of the fire. 
 
 " Well, Bill, you are wrong for once," said somebody 
 at my elbow, who up to this time had taken no part in 
 the conversation. Noticing how the others stopped to 
 listen to what more this quiet man might say, I con- 
 cluded that he must be the wagonmaster, as he was 
 looked upon as an authority. 
 
 " Wrong, am I ?" cried Bill. " What did that darkey 
 say who came in last night ? Didn't he say that the 
 rebs held the Gap and our boys were marching up 
 to it?" 
 
 " Certainly," the quiet man assented. 
 
 " Then what 's the matter with what I said ?" asked 
 Bill in an aggrieved tone. 
 
 " Oh, dry up, Bill," cried several voices in a chorus. 
 
 " The boys want to find their division. Let the boss 
 tell 'em where it is. He knows more about it than you 
 do." 
 
 "What is this Buzzard's Roost, and where is it?" 
 asked Fred of the wagonmaster, to change the conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " The Roost is a cliff, and overlooks a deep gap which 
 divides the ridge of Rocky Face, and lies away off down 
 yonder to the southeast " [pointing in that direction] 
 " about fifteen miles or such a matter. The Rocky Face 
 Ridge is a chain of break-neck hills several miles long,
 
 124 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 and running north and south. Dalton, which I make 
 out is Sherman's present objective point, is just in 
 behind the south end of this ridge. The rebels are 
 now using this ridge as a fort, and they are spread out 
 along the top of it the whole length ; and at the north 
 end they turn off to the east at right angles and spread 
 out across a railroad that runs into Dalton on the other 
 side of Rocky Face. They have centered in one or two 
 places, and the Roost is one of them." 
 
 " That's all right enough," cried Bill, "but to get at 
 Dalton without leaving the railroad, we 've got to drive 
 the rebs away from Buzzard's Roost so tfiat we can 
 follow the other railroad through the Gap." 
 
 " That 's what Thomas is trying to do. You see," 
 said the wagonmaster turning to us, " this railroad, that 
 runs through Ringgold, enters Dalton through the Gap 
 in Rocky Face, under Buzzard's Roost, and Thomas is 
 down there with the Army of the Cumberland, the 
 Fourth, Fourteenth and Twentieth Army Corps, trying 
 his prettiest to get through, judging by the firing we 
 heard this morning." 
 
 " But isn't the Army of the Ohio there, too ?" ques- 
 tioned Bill. 
 
 " Of course not. You ought to know that. We 've 
 not seen anything of that corps yet, and we would 
 have had sight of it if it had gone down. Besides, two 
 days ago, which was before Thomas's army left here, 
 Scofield, with the Twenty-third Corps, was at Red Clay, 
 a long stretch off to the northeast ; but I heard them 
 say that when Thomas moved from here to Tunnel 
 Hill a hill between the Ridge and the Roost, so called 
 because the railroad tunneled it Scofield came just over 
 the hills yonder " [pointing behind him to the north- 
 east] " to Catoosa Springs. Now, I reckon, he 's spread 
 put in line about east of here, facing the south, and
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 125 
 
 trying to force that wing of the rebs, which I told you 
 runs out east from Rocky Face." 
 
 " Then, to reach our corps," said Fred, " we must 
 leave the railroad and start off across the country to 
 the east ?" 
 
 " That 's about it," the quiet man assented, " if you 
 want to go right away ; but, in my opinion, you '11 meet 
 them in an easier way. McPherson, with the Army of 
 the Tennessee, is far away to the south, a long piece 
 beyond Thomas's, and you may be sure he is there for 
 a purpose. If you start off down the railroad to- 
 morrow, I shouldn't wonder if, by the time you arrive 
 near the Roost, you should find that Thomas had al- 
 ready pushed through. In that case you '11 be pretty 
 sure to meet your corps somewhere on the road ; either 
 on this or the other side of Buzzard's Roost Gap! Ac- 
 cording as they march into Dalton direct from where 
 they are now or come around to this side of Rocky 
 Face and follow this railroad in." 
 
 " Well," drawled Jake, with a yawn and a stare of 
 amazement at the wagonmaster, " it is pretty evident 
 that there is something goin' on, and I guess we'll get 
 our share of it ; but I am dead tired, and going to turn 
 in." 
 
 " Oh, you'll be in the thick of it before long, make no 
 mistake," some one cried laughingly after him as he 
 went away. 
 
 Fred and I stayed but a short time to finish our pipes, 
 and then we also turned in. 
 
 It was very strange how all my ideas of war had 
 changed since my joining the regiment. This was due 
 to the fact that my companions were veterans. Hearing 
 them talk so much of their battles, a feeling of contempt 
 for danger began to pervade me ; then, too, when I first 
 joined the regiment, I had an indefinite idea that there
 
 126 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 would be firing and bloodshed right away. I lived in 
 daily expectation of it ; but, as days passed, and, much 
 to my surprise, nothing of the kind occurred, this feel- 
 ing of suspense gradually yielded to one of indifference. 
 
 I had been wearing the blue for three months, and no 
 sign of the enemy' had I seen or heard, except the hur- 
 ried shots in the dark at Raccoon Bottom. And now I 
 half expected to be cheated out of my glory, or that, 
 when it did come, it would not realize my expecta- 
 tions. 
 
 I do not remember that I ever slept more soundly than 
 I did that night, under the little five-by-six tent in Ring- 
 gold, by the side of the baggage of Sherman's whole 
 army, on the eve of the campaign against Atlanta.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Monday morning dawned fair. Our little camp was 
 broken early and, after several hours consumed in serv- 
 ing out rations, we were again in marching trim. From 
 this time forth we were going forward like other regi- 
 ments, prepared for days of hard fighting and forced 
 marches, and where the opportunities for foraging 
 would be few and far between. The cool part of the 
 forenoon had passed before we were able to move, so 
 that when we did leave Ringgold and the baggage- 
 wagons the sun was high and shining hot upon our 
 heads. 
 
 Beside the heat of the sun there were added to our 
 other discomforts the extra rations, which were a load 
 in themselves, and the fact that we were hurried along 
 without the usual frequent halts. Under these condi- 
 tions we had put miles behind us before we saw the 
 head of the column break and scatter to rest by the 
 roadside. 
 
 " Here," cried Fred, when the halt was called, and 
 running, as fast as his weary legs could carry him, to a 
 little grass-covered knoll about one hundred feet from 
 the road " here 's a good place." 
 
 But I was already at his side, throwing off my accou- 
 terments previous to stretching myself at length on 
 the dusty but welcome grass. 
 
 127]
 
 128 THE GUN-BEARER 
 
 " This has been the worst day yet," I said, throwing" 
 myself down by the side of my cousin and pillowing 
 my head on my blankets. 
 
 " Boom !" 
 
 " Hello ! what 's that thunder ?" asked Fred, ex- 
 citedly, scanning the sky as he raised himself with a 
 jerk to his elbow and listened intently. 
 
 " It sounded to me like a salute being fired from a 
 gun, far away," I replied. 
 
 " Boom ! Boom !" 
 
 " That 's a fight for sure, and at Buzzard's Roost," 
 said Jake, eagerly, who had also raised himself on his 
 elbow to listen. 
 
 " Reckon you 're right," responded Fred, as he re- 
 sumed a prostrate position. " Well, we '11 be into it 
 soon enough. It 's so long since I Ve heard a gun that 
 thunder was the first idea which that firing put into 
 my head." 
 
 I lay for a few moments listening to this distant 
 booming of cannon and then sat up to see what the 
 veterans thought of it. But they seemed quiet and, 
 for the most part, indifferent ; many of them, indeed, 
 were already asleep. Only a few, here and there, gave 
 the incident special attention and then, merely, to shout 
 to some particular comrade that it sounded like old 
 times or to make some similar remark. 
 
 " Boom ! Boom ! Boom !" 
 
 I listened earnestly, vainly trying to interpret those 
 voices of war ; as if perchance they might tell me 
 which side was speaking at that moment and with what 
 effect. The sound was low-toned and drawn out by 
 the distance, lonesome, and like a note of warning ; but 
 it seemed innocent enough to me, and try as I would I 
 could not connect it with battle or bloodshed. 
 
 There was an air of excitement and threatening in
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 129 
 
 it, but to me it awakened no personal experience, pre- 
 sented no picture of men falling dead in heaps. It was 
 to me the beginning of a new experience ; the first few 
 drops of a protracted storm into which I was about to 
 enter. Who could predict how I should come out of it ? 
 
 For some time we lay and listened to the sounds 
 which came to us sometimes singly, then in groups, 
 and again in confusion until the cry, " Fall in !" 
 brought us once more to a sense of the present. 
 
 Hour after hour we plodded on, the sounds of battle 
 becoming louder and more and more distinct, until Fred 
 said he thought he could hear infantry. 
 
 I could not tell, although I stopped to listen. For me 
 there was only a confused roar of sounds, some louder 
 than others, but I did not know enough at that time to 
 distinguish the different reports ; later, however, as we 
 lessened the distance to the conflict, I was aware that 
 the intervals between the roar of cannon were filled 
 with lesser noises, which the initiated recognized and 
 pronounced musketry. 
 
 At last we reached an elevation not far from Tunnel 
 Hill, and from this point saw, rising like a wall before 
 us, but still far away across the valley, the rugged, pre- 
 cipitous sides of Rocky Face Ridge, full of such lights 
 and shadows as are made by ravines and jutting ledges. 
 There was also a lofty, darkly-frowning wall, with a 
 crest cut out in rugged peaks and hollows that stood out 
 in clear relief against the blue and white sky beyond. 
 
 To the left, directly across the valley from where we 
 stood, the ridge came to an end, sinking rapidly to a 
 much lower level ; but away to the right there seemed 
 to be no limit, and the ridge in this direction extended 
 away off until it met the sky. Even the gateway in the 
 Gap, under Buzzard's Roost, was not visible, as we were 
 not in a position to see through it.
 
 130 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 We could determine, from what the wagonmaster 
 had told us, where it should be, by a little sharper 
 indentation in the outline, by heavier shadows, and 
 because, in this neighborhood, the smoke of the battle 
 seemed to be the thickest. But we were still too far 
 away to distinguish individuals. Masses of men, when 
 not concealed in the shadows of trees, were, however, 
 distinctly visible. We could see, also, the flash of guns 
 and the lasting color of flags moving hither and thither, 
 sometimes shining brightly in the sunlight, at others 
 almost vanishing in shadow or in smoke. 
 
 The crest of the ridge occupied by the Confederates, 
 from the north end, nearest us, and away to the south, 
 as far as we could see, was alive with men and spark- 
 ling with fire, while from every shadowy ravine that 
 scarred the sides of Rocky Face our troops were send- 
 ing out flashes in reply ; and from the whole surface 
 thin wreaths of smoke .were rising and drifting off 
 among the leaves and blasted .tree-tops, just as I have 
 seen the steam creeping up from the shingles of our 
 cottage roof, wet from melted snow. 
 
 As we have been told, the Roost was the center of 
 attack. There was the meeting-place and crash of 
 battle. Heavy banks of smoke were floating away 
 from this section, and the air above was dotted with 
 fleecy puffs of smoke from bursting shell. 
 
 It was a sight full of grandeur, and terrible to me, 
 at least was its import. 
 
 My heart for a moment stood still, but the intoxica- 
 tion of such excitement was not to be resisted, and it 
 resumed its beating with such force that the blood 
 surged to my finger-tips. I would have rushed wildly 
 to take part in the struggle had not the distance and 
 the calmer actions of others restrained me. 
 
 I looked in the faces of my companions ; there was
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 131 
 
 fire in every eye, buoyant firmness in every step, as 
 steadily, surely, but not one second faster, they marched 
 on and on. Despite the impatience burning- in their 
 hearts, their movements were as orderly and methodical, 
 and their bearing as unchanged, as if the battle smoke 
 were harmless mist and the roar of guns but the wind 
 moaning among the trees. 
 
 But as we advance with eyes fixed on the scene of 
 strife, the sun sets, the firing gradually slackens, ceases, 
 and the battle is over ; and when, as night fell, we 
 reached the rear of our lines, instead of fitful flashes, 
 the steady blaze of numberless camp-fires lit up the 
 scene. 
 
 About these fires thousands and thousands of tired 
 soldiers were gathered, each telling his own story of 
 the battle.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 There are those ever ready with brilliant pens and 
 standing far enough removed from any corporeal in- 
 terest, if such expression be permitted concerning the 
 strife of those two great armies camped so near to- 
 gether, who might have grasped the scene on that first 
 night we pitched our tents with Sherman's army, and 
 from their serene point of view have given a lucid 
 bird's-eye view of the whole situation. I saw what was 
 in my neighborhood only. 
 
 They would have painted in well-chosen phrases the 
 picture of that long valley, lying to the west along the 
 base of Rocky Face, all sparkling with union camp 
 fires, in the light of which were to be seen horses, cais- 
 sons, cannon and tents and men, everywhere. Men hard 
 at work as were the surgeons about the blazing fires of 
 the field hospitals ; men as couriers hurrying with dis- 
 patches from camp to camp ; men at rest, as most of 
 them were, grouped about the fires or dozing far apart 
 beneath the trees. 
 
 Mill creek would have been sketched as a muddy 
 little stream, hedged on either side by a thicket of bush 
 and creeping gloomily, stealthily along by the side of 
 our camp to pass beneath Buzzard's Roost into the
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 133 
 
 Confederate lines, unseen, except where in a few places 
 our fires extended to its bank, and reddened it with their 
 reflection. 
 
 Beyond this, it would have been noted that Rocky 
 Face Ridge reared its ponderous mass, blacker than 
 the night itself, until the eye of the observer reached 
 the top, which sparkled and scintillated with hostile 
 fires all in striking contrast to the blinking stars and 
 slowly-drifting clouds above. 
 
 But the enemy did not have all of that long ridge to 
 themselves. Our boys had fought that day to some 
 purpose. They had won their way a little distance, at 
 least, up its craggy sides, among the rocks and stunted 
 trees. The northern slopes were ours, and we, camping 
 near this upper end while eating supper, cast many 
 wondering, curious glances along that line of friendly 
 fires, following it away up the slope to where it stopped 
 and a broad belt of darkness separated it from the 
 enemy. 
 
 These fires seemed to beckon us ; and when our meal 
 was over, and it was arranged that some of us might 
 leave camp, my fatigue vanished and I joined Fred and 
 two or three others who were going on a tour of in- 
 vestigation. 
 
 As we climbed the hill our attention was attracted by 
 one especially brilliant fire. We found about it the 
 usual camp scene, men lounging about, sipping coffee, 
 smoking and chatting, while some were cleaning their 
 weapons. The excitement of the late struggle seemed 
 to have disappeared with its smoke and grime, for these 
 men conversed in low, quiet tones. 
 
 The hands that poured the coffee or lit the pipes 
 were steady enough ; it was only in the nervous, re- 
 strained laugh that they betrayed any trace of the 
 excitement of the day.
 
 134 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 As we advanced into the light and drew near the fire 
 we were greeted with : 
 
 " In the advance to-day ?" 
 
 " No," we answered. 
 
 " What regiment ?" 
 
 "Twelfth Kentucky." 
 
 " That 's a fightin' regiment. Part of Reilly's old 
 brigade ?" 
 
 " Yes," Fred remarked in a quiet way, in answer. 
 
 " S'pose you had a taste of tumblin' over the rocks 
 like the rest of us ?" 
 
 " No," said Fred ; " we 're only just from Ringgold." 
 
 "What !" exclaimed our interrogator. " The Twelfth 
 Kentucky, and not in a fight ?" 
 
 " This is the time we missed it. We veteranized a 
 couple of months ago, had a furlough, and have only 
 just now turned up for another three years." 
 
 " Well, that beats me ! The Twelfth Kentucky and 
 not Oh, well, you 're here early enough. Been to 
 supper ? Have ? Well, take some coffee with us, any- 
 how. Here you, Fattie " [to a veteran, who seemed to 
 have the coffee-pot under his special charge], "pass these 
 comrades some coffee." 
 
 Fattie, who was tall and as thin as a rail, duly obeyed, 
 handing us the boiling-hot, inky, aromatic fluid in 
 blackened, dented cups. 
 
 We sat down by the fire, sipped the coffee and soon 
 learned that the regiment to which this group belonged 
 was part of Newton's Division of the Fourth Army 
 Corps, and that they had been in a skirmishing line all 
 day. 
 
 In answer to a question as to what they had done 
 that day, one emphatic man they called Sandy cried : 
 
 " What have we done ? Look you f You see those camp 
 fires down there ?" pointing to the valley. " Well, they
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 135 
 
 have not moved. They were there in the same place 
 last night ; but here, last night the rebs slept. We 
 drove 'em out to-day, we did. It cost us heavy, but we 
 did it." 
 
 " You 're right, it cost us heavy," said another voice. 
 " How they picked us off ! But what a charge that was 
 over such a mass of loose rock, and in the face of such 
 a fire. Pratt and Sager fell first, away down in the 
 bottom yonder, just after we started. While we were 
 running up Magoun, just to the left of me, stumbled on 
 a tilting rock. I had to laugh to see him run along on all 
 fours before he could recover. But he had only just 
 got straightened up, poor fellow, when over he went 
 for good. That brought Ripley next to me in the line, 
 but we hadn't gone a dozen rods together when he cried 
 out : ' Oh, Bill !' and dropped. Clark, Kelley and Booth 
 fell at the same time just about here ; and just on the 
 edge of the ridge out yonder, we left the orderly and 
 Tom Cranford and I know there was a heap more 
 from some of the other companies dropped in the same 
 place." 
 
 " What, did you get much further up ?" asked Fred. 
 
 " You bet we did," he replied, " and our pickets are 
 out there now, I reckon, but it costs, it costs, just as 
 Sandy says. They dropped us along here pretty thick, 
 and it got to be mighty lonesome before we came to the 
 end of the race." 
 
 " Lonesome," echoed the deep-toned voice of a gray- 
 bearded Illinoisan. " You were all together when you 
 started out of the woods below, on that double quick 
 up the hill, a-dodging from stump to rock, and from 
 rock to tree, but I was away out on the left of the line 
 and, somehow, in spite of all I could do, I kept getting 
 farther and farther away from you, and edging toward 
 the gulley which separated us from Company H. No
 
 136 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 mistake about it, the Johnnies were too many for me. 
 Shot and shell were falling like rain out there, and the 
 ground was getting a terrible sweeping." He paused 
 as though to put back the thoughts that were crowding 
 upon him, but as the rest of us waited for him to con- 
 tinue, he took up the story again. 
 
 " While I tried to get back into my old spot, a piece 
 of shell struck my gunstock, knocked it into splinters, 
 and laid me flat as a pancake. I thought I was done 
 for. Oh, you needn't smile, you fellows, you have been 
 through the same thing yourselves, but I soon found 
 out what the trouble was, and that I was not hurt much. 
 Of course, I was no good without a gun, and so I held 
 back until I could get one. In a few minutes a fellow 
 just ahead of me, threw up his hands and fell backward. 
 This was my chance and I soon had the gun he dropped. 
 'T was barber Jim," [falteringly] " you all know him of 
 Company H Jim, when I reached him, was trying to 
 cover with his hand a hole in his breast that looked al- 
 most large enough to put your fist in. The blood was 
 running out between his fingers, and such a pitiful look 
 as poor Jim gave me, as I took up his rifle and hurried 
 away. I tell you what, boys," [and the bronzed face of 
 the speaker beamed on the upturned faces around him] 
 " I 'm right glad to get back to the company again. 
 I Ve been in a good many skirmish lines before, but 
 never in one when I was so blamed lonesome as to-day." 
 
 " Begorra, and its meself that 's always lonesome in a 
 skirmish," observed one of the listeners. " Sure, there 's 
 no fun in it at all, at all ; a man 's always alone in such 
 work, wid divil a sowl near him. I always feel as if 
 every Johnnie had his murtherin' eye on me. By the 
 same token, it 's Pat Cragin that would rather be at 
 home carrying the hod, than standing up and stoppin 1 
 bullets for the rebs. Holy Mother, there 's the liftinint,
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 137 
 
 and him we left on the crust up yonder wid a hole in 
 his head." , 
 
 " Only stunned a little, that's all," quietly observed 
 the officer, who at this moment emerged from the dark- 
 ness beyond, and was passing near enough to be seen 
 by the light of the fire. 
 
 "Sure it 's meself that 's glad to hear you say so," 
 answered Pat ; and, as our little group watched the 
 officer until he disappeared in the darkness, he con- 
 tinued, speaking lower : " There goes a foine officer ; 
 divil a better ever drew a sword or led a charge. If he 
 ever gets his min into trouble, bedad, but he 's the boy 
 that can get them out. I like him better 'n I did the 
 cap'n, poor felly." 
 
 After this there was a moment of silence, for Cragin's 
 homely words had struck responsive chords in many 
 breasts, and afterward the talk became general. While 
 many little dialogues were passing among the boys who 
 had come up with me and the soldiers about the camp-fire, 
 I turned to Cragin, who was sitting just at my left, and 
 asked if he thought there would be any fighting the 
 next day. 
 
 " Fittin', is it ? Faith, 'nd ye may just count on that 
 same. We'll skirmish to-morrow, just as we did to-day. 
 Sure, we 're only keepin' the Johnnies busy till 
 McPherson has a chance to get in his work ; that 's him 
 down there," said Cragin, in explanation, pointing away 
 out over the landscape into the darkness. 
 
 " Where ?" I asked, trying to follow the direction 
 indicated. 
 
 " The light from the fire 's too glaring to see it well. 
 Just shade your eyes at the side a bit and look down 
 there. Do you see a red glare in the sky ?" 
 
 " I think I do." 
 
 " Well, that 's him, and them 's McPherson's camp-
 
 138 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 fires that 's reddenin' the clouds ! The old man wants 
 McPherson or some of 'em to get round into the rear 
 of the rebs. The divil fly away wid 'em. It takes 
 a power of marching to satisfy Sherman ; but, begorra, 
 it is the kind of marching that counts and makes the 
 inimy skedaddle all the same !" 
 
 It was a comfort for me to hear that tramping paid, 
 and that it was bringing about the desired result. But 
 what did that result signify to those who had that day 
 fallen ? This was the question I pondered. However 
 great the importance of this movement might be to 
 Sherman and to the country, my mind refused to leave 
 my individual prospects. I could see myself an actor in 
 just such scenes as had been described. Henceforth, until 
 the end, I was to be one of those who must do not only 
 the marching but the skirmishing. 
 
 How long would it be before I should find myself 
 enveloped in that leaden storm ? How much time 
 might there be left me to think of home and of those I 
 loved ? How long would it be before Fred or Jake or 
 some others of my company about their camp-fires 
 might speak of me as these soldiers spoke of poor 
 Tom Cranf ord ?" We left him just out on the ridge 
 yonder." 
 
 " Where were you to-day ?" asked Cragin, interrupting 
 my melancholy dreaming. " What part of the line were 
 yon in ?" and he looked at me from cap to shoes, as if it 
 had just occurred to him that not only was I a stranger, 
 but that my uniform was in pretty good condition for a 
 veteran. 
 
 I did not care to admit that I had never been under 
 fire, at least where I could stand up and face it, and so 
 replied that we were not in the engagement but had 
 been marching all day. 
 
 " Well," replied Cragin, " that 's just the same wid
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 139 
 
 Sherman some 's fightin* and some 's marchin', but it 
 all counts." 
 
 Before a second opportunity occurred to question 
 me, Fred and I walked away and approached another 
 fire, where another group were listening to a soldier 
 describing his experience. 
 
 He was saying : 
 
 " We kept a mighty good line, though I never saw 
 men fight harder than those fellows did on the right. 
 Every time I looked in that direction I saw their ram- 
 rods twirling above their heads. They were regular 
 killers ; at work by the day ; just as if the boss was 
 standing over them. And then the charge ! Boys, 
 they put such things down in history." Then, after a 
 pause, during which his companions sat staring at the 
 burning logs, trying to realize the glory of it after the 
 fire had left their blood, he added : " But I do not be- 
 lieve it was ever intended. It looked to me, then, and 
 I think so now, that sombody lost his head when he 
 ordered both the first and second charge. The idea of 
 charging in a place like this, with the chances all in 
 favor of the other side. Sherman don't do business in 
 that way. I tell you, somebody blundered, and this is 
 not the first time, either. I hope there won't be any 
 more mistakes to-morrow."* 
 
 I fervently echoed this wish, and we went back to 
 our own camp. I had seen something of the day's 
 fight, had heard the booming of the guns and the rattle 
 of musketry, and there was an awful, fascinating real- 
 ism in these simple stories. 
 
 As I rolled myself up in my blankets on the ground 
 
 * "The orders were not to waste life in serious assault upon intreneh- 
 ments, hut the zeal of the troops and subordinate commanders turned the 
 intended skirmish iuto something very like a ranged battle, and the Con- 
 federate reports state that five separate and regular assaults were made on 
 their lines." Cotfs Atlanta.
 
 140 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 and tried to sleep, my brain was in a whirl. I seemed 
 to hear the heavy tramp of armies, the ringing cheers 
 of charging infantry, the roar of artillery, the shriek of 
 shell, the groans of wounded, dying men ; and then I 
 thought myself all that was left of an unsupported line 
 of skirmishers. The army to which I belonged had 
 fallen back ; the enemy were advancing ; my com- 
 panions had been picked off, one by one, until I stood 
 alone, a target for a thousand rifles. Unable to move, 
 and realizing I was dreaming, yet powerless to break 
 the spell, I stood and waited for the end that I knew 
 must come, when I was roused to consciousness by 
 Fred, who said : 
 
 " Seems to me you dropped to sleep mighty quick. 
 The colonel has come. I got it from Black Lige. He 
 says the colonel 's all broke up about the horses ; that 
 he tried to get 'em, and tried hard ; that he left Point 
 Burnside for that purpose ; but it's no go. He couldn't 
 make it win. Sherman 's sorry ; but the change in the 
 plans for the movement of the army makes it impossi- 
 ble. The boys are satisfied it's all straight, and don't 
 care now." 
 
 I was too tired, too sleepy, to exhibit much interest 
 in that almost forgotten subject, and dozed again. The 
 silence and darkness deepened, the camp-fires burned 
 low, and yet lower ; the forms that had been moving 
 about me in the gloom disappeared, one by one. I 
 listened a moment to the breeze as it freshened and 
 died away, moaning and sighing through the tree-tops, 
 and fell asleep.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Waking shortly after daylight, there came wafted to 
 me, on the soft, dewy air of the morning, the warbling 
 notes from some far-off bugle, sounding the reveille. 
 An instant later, another bugle repeated the call more 
 clearly. Another and yet another brazen throat re- 
 sponded, nearer and nearer ; and now, as the piping of 
 shrill-toned fifes and the heavy rolling of drums catch 
 up and interpret the theme, the frowning cliffs of Rocky 
 Face repeat and echo the medley of sounds until the 
 air vibrates in all directions with martial music. 
 
 The sputtering crack of rifle shots from along the 
 summit of the ridge and the thundering of artillery 
 which had again opened on the enemy now burst in 
 upon the chorus and, with emphatic accompaniment, 
 announced the day's work fairly begun. 
 
 The previous evening had given me a glimpse of 
 what one phase of my experience with Sherman's army 
 was to be. The sounds and scenes of this morning 
 presented the prospect to me from another point of 
 view. 
 
 Everything was new, strange and interesting ; so 
 different from the quiet camp life from which we had 
 come. 
 
 Our position commanded a fine view of the plain,
 
 142 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 the open country to the south and of that section where 
 a part of our army was concealed in the thick 
 forest. 
 
 The camps before us were springing into life. Thou- 
 sands of smoke columns arose from plain and hill, 
 mounted, until, caught by some passing current of air, 
 they bent sidewise and floated out in waving pennants 
 to a vanishing point. 
 
 Thousands of soldier-cooks were preparing breakfast 
 for myriads of hungry soldiers. 
 
 Men were forming into companies and regiments and 
 brigades, and marching, some in one direction, some in 
 another. 
 
 Batteries of artillery were hurrying off, sometimes 
 along the roads, then across the fields, to disappear 
 beneath the thatch of distant woods. 
 
 Cavalrymen passed and repassed, leading riderless 
 horses to and from the waters of Mill Creek. 
 
 Locomotive whistles announced the frequent arrival 
 of provision trains, from which supply wagons, moving 
 every whither, were distributing hard tack, pork, coffee 
 and ammunition. 
 
 Occasionally a bit of color danced and waved in the 
 sunlight on the heights above us, as a signal-flag com- 
 municated a message to the officers below. 
 
 We caught, now and then, glimpses of our troops and 
 of the enemy, struggling away up among the trees and 
 rocks of the ridge, while over all thin patches of light- 
 blue smoke rose from the woods into the air and min- 
 gling with the white puffs from bursting shell drifted 
 away into the space beyond. 
 
 It was a scene and a morning not easily to be for- 
 gotten. 
 
 It seemed hardly possible that all this stir and bustle 
 could be the result of one general's planning, or that
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 143 
 
 one general could successfully control the movements 
 of so many men ; but the boys, who knew, said : 
 
 " The old man can win more battles, keep the enemy 
 more continually on the retreat and lose fewer men 
 than any other general in the army." 
 
 " But how is it done ?" I asked Fred. " How does 
 Sherman manage to keep control of his army ? How 
 bring order out of this confusion ?" 
 
 "Well, you see, Sherman plans the campaign. 
 Through his engineers he gets the lay of the land 
 and knows how to take advantage of it. The generals 
 under Sherman are only his executives, who have care 
 of the details. They are told where to go and what 
 to do, and upon their careful obedience depends our 
 success. Generals are born, not made. Shoulder straps 
 never planned a campaign nor won a battle." 
 
 The arrival of the colonel was, naturally, the first 
 subject for discussion ; but this event, aside from the 
 letters he brought from headquarters, created no stir, 
 awoke no feeling of resentment. The boys seemed to 
 be satisfied that he had done all that man could do to 
 redeem the promise he had made, and some even went 
 so far as to say that the less we said about horses the 
 better. Even Jake, now we were at the front, was con- 
 tent without horses, and so expressed himself. 
 
 Breakfast eaten, tents and blankets rolled up and 
 guns carefully cleaned and made ready for use, we 
 awaited orders. While we were waiting, taking in the 
 surrounding scenery, " Black Lige " happened to pass, 
 and Jake hailed him with : 
 
 " Ho, Lige ! Has the colonel got his orders ?" 
 
 " Yes ; he 's got 'em f er sure. I done heered de cap'n 
 say dis mawnin' dat we 's a goine ter jine Scofield ter- 
 day." 
 
 " Did he say where Schofield was, Lige ?" I asked.
 
 144 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " No, maws' Dan. He done say nuffin 'bout it 'cept 
 wut I tell yer." 
 
 " Fall in men, fall in," called the voice of our or- 
 derly. 
 
 "That 's the talk," said Jake. "We '11 get our share 
 now, and when we get a chance, we '11 give the Johnnies 
 the best we 've got in the shop." 
 
 In a few moments we were in line, facing the south 
 and quickly after, at the tap of the drum, amid rumble 
 and rattle on every hand, we marched along the plain 
 about two miles until near Rays Gap ; then, turning 
 east, crossed Mill Creek, and climbed to the crest of the 
 ridge, fully seven hundred feet above the base of the 
 mountain. 
 
 What a climb that was ! Scarcely a breath of air 
 stirred in the woods ; the atmosphere was hot and 
 stifling, and the ascent both difficult and hazardous. 
 We were all in high spirits, however, notwithstanding 
 the heat, and it mattered little to us that the battle was 
 not far away. 
 
 Up the side of this natural fortification, which con- 
 tinually impressed us with a sense of its magnitude, 
 over the rocks, now to the left, turning and winding, 
 on, up and through a forest of stunted pines and a 
 tangled undergrowth that filled the narrow clefts and 
 crevices in this well named rocky ridge, we climbed, 
 tumbled, slipped, scrambled and forced our way until 
 late in the afternoon when we came to a halt near 
 some of the Ohio regiments of Schofield's Division. 
 
 What a country was spread out before us ! To the 
 west of the open plain below were to be seen only deep 
 valleys^ densely wooded forests and the rugged chains 
 of rock which ribbed and intersected this region in 
 every direction. 
 
 To the south the corrugated surfaces of Rocky Face
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 145 
 
 stretched away until it's identity was lost in a back- 
 ground of distant hills beyond. 
 
 Eastward the scene was of panoramic beauty. 
 Dalton lay below us, close to the railroad, and not 
 more than two miles distant. 
 
 Nature had done much to make Dalton defensible, 
 but added to it was the ingenuity of Southern engi- 
 neers. For miles around the town we could see a series 
 of ridges, which, with jutting spurs, stretched out in 
 every direction ; lower than Rocky Face, but much 
 more valuable to the enemy, on account of their near- 
 ness to the town and the ease with which they might 
 be occupied and converted into strong defensive out- 
 posts. 
 
 Creeks and rivers threaded the landscape, which was 
 dotted here and there with houses, while away to the 
 south and east we saw the blue summits of the hills that 
 curtained Resaca. 
 
 The air was better on the ridge ; and while we rested 
 there, eating our dinner, and enjoying it, too, Kimball, 
 who had been quietly taking stock of our surroundings, 
 said, as if to himself : 
 
 " What a place for defense ! The whole army of the 
 North couldn't storm this ridge and capture it. See 
 the chances here for sharpshooters ! Why, they could 
 pick off skirmishers as easy as you 'd pick blackberries 
 from a well-filled vine, and not stand in fear of a 
 scratch." 
 
 " 'Nd just look at the loose rock lyin' around here," 
 interrupted Jake, who had been listening ; " 's almost 
 as good as ammunition itself." 
 
 " Sherman don't mean to give the enemy any such 
 advantage as this over him, I know," continued Kim- 
 ball. " He '11 drive him out of here, and he won't do it 
 in the way Johnston wants him to, either. After this
 
 146 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 comes Dalton ; just look at it ! But that '11 go in the 
 same way as Rocky Face." 
 
 " That 's right," responded Jake ; " but, as one of 
 those Illinois men said last night, it 's going to take a 
 heap of marching to do it. Well, let it come ; I 'm 
 ready, and want to be moving, seeing and doing some- 
 thing. I reckon the colonel 's gone to report to Scho- 
 field, ain't he, sergeant ?" speaking to the orderly who 
 was standing near. 
 
 " Yes," replied the sergeant ; " and we'll lie here 
 until we hear from him." 
 
 Here was an opportunity to read my letters, of which 
 I had three two from Mary and one from mother. To 
 be sure, I was occasionally interrupted by the booming 
 notes of artillery, the crash of bursting shell, the- crack 
 of rifles and the "zip "or "ping" of bullets as they 
 passed by ; but though all of these sounds were new to 
 me and caused me no little nervousness, my interest in 
 the letters never flagged, and I read them through to 
 the end. 
 
 Mother inclosed in her letter a pressing invitation 
 from Edith Miller, the deacon's daughter, to visit Way- 
 town. 
 
 " Come to Way town again," she said, " and come to stay. I 
 need your kindly advice so much in my trouble. Father died 
 shortly after you left, and mother died scarcely a month since, 
 and you will see that I am alone, with no one to advise me. 
 Won't you please come ? There are matters here of very great 
 importance to you, and you must come and see to them. I can- 
 not take ' no ' for an answer." 
 
 Of course, my mother wondered what it could all 
 mean, and referring to her reply, said she would have 
 accepted the invitation if it had not been for my ab- 
 sence, but that under the circumstances she could not, 
 for the present, think of it. 
 
 Mary's letters ah, well, no language can describe
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 147 
 
 the comfort and encouragement I derived from these 
 outpourings of a loving heart. They were all that 
 could be hoped for from the pen of a true-hearted 
 woman, and were read and reread for days and weeks 
 afterward the same old story, but always appealing, 
 always new. 
 
 The rest of the day was spent in listening to sounds 
 of the conflict still raging at Buzzard's Roost, watching 
 the movements of the troops below us, the plain being 
 gradually deserted, and chatting with some of the 
 Ohio boys. From this source of information we learned 
 that thus far the Twenty-third Corps had been used as 
 a flanking corps, and that Sherman's movements were 
 based on this part of his army as a pivot, swinging to 
 the right or left as occasion demanded. 
 
 " How long he '11 keep this thing up 's hard to say," 
 said one of our informants, speculatively ; " but I allow 
 he 's goin' to keep at it, for we Ve already heard we 're 
 goin' to git out o' this in the morning." 
 
 After supper, consisting of salt pork, hard tack and 
 cold water, for we were not permitted to build fires on 
 the Ridge, we put in the time as best we could, chat- 
 ting, observing the lights in Dalton as they flashed out 
 one by one in the darkness settling on the rapidly 
 fading landscape, and then curled up under our blan- 
 kets as comfortably as the rocky nature of the ground 
 would permit, and went to sleep. 
 
 I expected that the next day would certainly bring 
 me face to face with the enemy, but in this I was dis- 
 appointed, for when the day broke we were marched 
 back over about the same stony ground we had strug- 
 gled over the day before. 
 
 The whole of the Twenty-third Corps was with us 
 this time, for to the right or left, as the openings in the 
 trees or between the hills permitted, we saw the whole
 
 148 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 landscape was full of bluecoats, all marching in a direc- 
 tion parallel to our own. Away off to the south we 
 heard the roar of battle. Behind us, far to the rear, a 
 stray shot or two, perhaps, but nearer us only the usual 
 sounds of the march, the clatter of tinware at our belts, 
 the restless tap of a drum here and there, the profane 
 clamor of artillerymen struggling to extricate a gun or 
 wagon from some muddy creek. If we were retreating 
 what were we retreating from ? There was not a gray- 
 coat to be seen, and no sounds that I called alarming 
 in our rear, and our movements, though somewhat 
 guarded, did not resemble what I imagined a retreat 
 must be. Nor did the talk of those about me give me 
 any suggestion. There were the usual growls at the 
 roughness of the way, but aside from that no one 
 seemed to care whither we were marched or what the 
 reason of the movement was. 
 
 When one sees hundreds of others doing the same 
 thing he is doing, and without a sign of anxiety as to 
 the result or of criticism as to the method pursued, it 
 soon becomes difficult to maintain even a small amount 
 of private worry. 
 
 Wednesday was spent in camp or in lines of battle. 
 We did not move much, and reports that the enemy 
 were advancing on us under cover of some woods at no 
 great distance from our lines, kept my nerves always at 
 a tension. Shortly after dinner we were called again 
 to the front, and it seemed, by the look of expec- 
 tation in our officers' eyes, that this time the graycoats 
 must be certainly advancing. We stood and waited, 
 hearing and seeing nothing. 
 
 Suddenly there was a great cheering, away off to the 
 left of the line ; other regiments near us took up the 
 cry. 
 
 " What is it ?" I asked, somewhat anxiously.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 149 
 
 " Look ! Look ! There 's Stoneman's cavalry. Hurrah, 
 hurrah !" cried Jake at my elbow, pointing to the left. 
 
 A body of horsemen were charging out of the woods 
 into the open ground. 
 
 It was an inspiring sight, and I swung my cap and 
 shouted with the rest : " Hurrah ! Hurrah !" On they 
 went, line after line coming into view, a dense mass 
 flying over the green earth like the black shadow of a 
 cloud. 
 
 There were but two or three thousand of them, a 
 drop in the bucket in comparison with the hundred 
 thousand hid away in the miles of woods between us 
 and the place far away to the south where McPherson's 
 guns were booming. Yet it seemed as if nothing but 
 the cold hard rocks of mother earth, nothing of flesh 
 and blood could withstand that onward rush of men 
 and horses. They looked all that has ever been said of 
 them, daring, reckless, confident. There was an easy 
 swing and rhythm about their motion that almost set me 
 dancing. I gazed at them admiringly. 
 
 A wild yell pierced the air, sabers flashed in the sun- 
 light and I saw Wheeler's cavalry debouching swiftly 
 from the opposite woods. 
 
 Nearer and nearer they came together these two 
 ponderous masses. My breath came in gasps with ex- 
 citement, in expectation of the conflict. I imagined 
 that when they came together I would hear a crash 
 like the crash of an avalanche when it reaches the 
 valley. I braced myself for the shock as if, when those 
 two masses met, a heavy weight would strike me also 
 in the chest. But when they had charged to within a 
 rod of each other I should think a shrill bugle sounded 
 the retreat, and the enemy turned and rode swiftly 
 away. 
 
 "That was just a scare/' said Kimball. " They only
 
 150 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 wanted to find out whether we were in .force or 
 not." 
 
 I thought of the old saw, " A man might as well be 
 killed as be scared to death," but simply looked wise, 
 smiled and said nothing. 
 
 "A cavalry charge 's a grand sight," continued Kim- 
 ball, encouraged by my attention. A grand sight ! It 's 
 like a living ram, to batter down or scatter everything. 
 Cavalry like Stoneman's 's like a hurricane in a city of 
 paper houses. They '11 break up infantry every time, 
 and '11 silence a battery by hacking the cannoneers to 
 pieces. Why, a cavalryman on the dead run, 's these 
 fellows were just now, '11 split a man from head to 
 waist, with his saber, 's easy 's a butcher 'd split a 
 spring lamb !" 
 
 " Don't they use their Spencers ?" I asked. 
 
 " Neither rifles nor revolvers are any good to cavalry 
 in a charge. The saber 's the thing for the rush." 
 
 The enemy made no further demonstration, and we 
 held our position, unmolested, during the rest of the 
 day. At night a picket was set, and our regiment came 
 in for its share of duty. 
 
 Fred and I were assigned to the same post ; . and 
 there, by a big tree, we stood and listened. That about 
 sums up the duty of a night picket. You stand by 
 some big tree or stump or rock, while all around you is 
 a darkness that almost may be felt. And how you do 
 listen ! How keenly sensitive are the ears, and how 
 vivid the imagination at such times ! You fancy some- 
 body is moving toward you ; the breaking of twigs and 
 rustling of leaves settle this to your satisfaction ; the 
 sound ceases, and the cold chills creep over you as you 
 think the cause of your alarm may be standing on the 
 other side of your tree, and if you but stretch your 
 arm around it you may touch him.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 151 
 
 I realized that the Confederate Army was only a short 
 distance away, and, at times, strained my ears until it 
 seemed as if the nerves and muscles of my face would 
 crack with the tension in the effort to discover some 
 evidence of their nearness. But the stillness was un- 
 broken, with the exception, perhaps, of the piping of 
 frogs and the low, far-off rumbling sound of some 
 moving train. 
 
 At daylight we were again on the move to the south- 
 west. This time no regiments marched in front with 
 us. Two days before we had swept round from east to 
 west like a long, blue tidal -wave, regardless of road or 
 broken ground ; to-day, a long, blue serpent-line of 
 men drew its sinuous folds. To the left of us, the 
 gloomy, unbroken wall of forest, hiding the ridge of 
 Rocky Face from us and us from the eyes of our 
 enemy along its crest ; to the right, a broken country ; 
 ahead, long lines of soldiers marching on ; behind us, 
 lines of soldiers coming after. 
 
 "Looks as if the whole army was on the move," 
 said Jake. " There '11 be fun soon, and we '11 have a 
 chance to try these guns of ours." 
 
 " Don't be in a hurry, Jake. Our guns won't rust," 
 said Kimball. " We '11 catch it soon enough. I 've had 
 all the square meals of that kind I want. I 'd rather 
 march than fight any day. It 's better to get tired than 
 it is to get killed, and a heap better to suffer with blis- 
 tered feet than to lose an arm or a leg." 
 
 " It 's skeery business," replied Jake ; " but we never 
 got killed yet, and we 've been under fire a good many 
 times." 
 
 " Some of us have been mighty lucky ; but you can't 
 tell, you can't tell," said Kimball, as he gave his heavy 
 cartridge-box a hitch into a more comfortable position 
 and walked away.
 
 152 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 We entered Snake Creek Gap and crowded on, some- 
 times in the stony road, sometimes over the shingle 
 beside the creek or along its sloping banks. 
 
 Overhead the interlacing branches of the trees on 
 either side of this narrow defile formed a thatch which 
 for long distances shrouded us in gloom. Occasionally 
 a break in the dense foliage let in the sunlight, and we 
 could see the wild and picturesque scenery surround- 
 ing us. 
 
 We came through the gap at last and camped in flank 
 with McPherson's army before the outworks of Resaca. 
 We saw the light of rebel campfires reflected on the 
 clouds drifting over Rocky Face far to the north of us, 
 whence we had come, and we looked to our muskets 
 at least I did expecting sharp work on the morrow ; 
 but it did not come. The roar of McPherson's bat- 
 teries and the ceaseless fire of musketry from his line, 
 still snarling like an eager but wary watchdog before 
 the intrenchments of Resaca, were now in our ears. 
 We were not drawn into it, but were cautiously extend- 
 ing our lines and resting on our arms. That night 
 again we saw the firelight of our enemy still in its old 
 position to the north. But the next day a report spread 
 like wildfire along our line that Johnston had left Dai- 
 ton and was concentrating on our front. This was great 
 news. Our marching had countered them. 
 
 We saw the smoke of a burning house or two along 
 the railroad. We heard the shouts of our comrades of 
 the Fourth Corps driving the enemy toward us along 
 the ridge of Rocky Face and through Buzzard's Roost 
 Gap, and we perceived that the fire in our front was 
 much increased, betokening a stronger force there. 
 Johnston and his whole army were there. 
 
 It was the thirteenth of May. I had been a soldier 
 three months, and I had not fired a shot,
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Twenty-third Corps marched two and a half 
 miles, in a northeasterly direction, on the Rome and 
 Dalton Road; then left it, and, regardless of roads or 
 fences, pursued an easterly course straight across the 
 country. 
 
 Shortly after leaving the road, we forded three or 
 four tributaries of Blue Spring Creek. There was no 
 time to stop and remove shoes and stockings at these 
 places ; it was simply walk in, regardless of water or its 
 depth, just as a horse or a mule would do. Fortunately, 
 the water was not more than half way up to my knees, 
 and all I had to do, on reaching the other side, was to 
 squeeze my trousers as dry as possible, and depend for 
 the rest upon the movement of my feet, which, when I 
 walked, worked up and down in my shoes like a pump- 
 plunger, throwing out water at every stroke. 
 
 Our line of march seemed to be so planned that 
 we passed no houses on this tramp, though we could 
 
 I '53]
 
 154 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 not have been far removed from them, as we frequently 
 saw fences surrounding lands under cultivation. 
 
 At Line Creek we did not fare so well, as the water 
 was quite deep in places, and the steep bank leading to 
 the hill on the opposite side made it difficult to continue 
 in a straight line ; but we forded the stream, and in 
 zigzag order, with the water in our shoes chugging 
 and crunching at every step as we ascended the hill 
 and pressed on. 
 
 We had heard more or less firing since daybreak ; but, 
 after leaving the wagon road, the sound became more 
 continuous, and rapidly increased in volume. When 
 we gained the crest of the hill, close to Line Creek, the 
 noise of battle grew more distinct, and we could with 
 ease distinguish the booming of artillery from the rattle 
 of musketry. 
 
 It was nearly noon when we descended to the valley 
 and came into line on the left of Thomas, facing Camp 
 Creek, which separated us from the strongly intrenched 
 hills occupied by the enemy north of Resaca. 
 
 To the right and left the rattle of musketry from our 
 skirmish lines, which were pressing the enemy toward 
 the creek, was continuous. From still farther to the 
 right and south, where McPherson was engaged, came 
 the deep-toned thunder of artillery ; in our immediate 
 front the silence was absolute. We knew the enemy 
 was there, however perhaps felt it, rather than knew it. 
 
 Between us and the enemy there stretched a broad, 
 green valley down to the harmless creek, which rip- 
 pled peacefully along as if there were no such thing as 
 war. The sky was clear as crystal. The sun shone 
 brightly, as if to gladden our hearts and induce us to 
 abandon our wretched business. But the birds among 
 the trees near by flitted nervously from branch to 
 branch, discontented, fearful, silent.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 155 
 
 I had hardly taken in the beauties of the scene when 
 an order was given for our deployment as a skirmish 
 line. It came unexpectedly, and, it seemed to me, was 
 given without the careful deliberation it merited, and 
 wholly regardless of whether we were ready or not. 
 
 I felt my face become pale and my strength suddenly 
 leave me. The least push, or, it seemed to me then, 
 breath of air, would have tumbled me headlong to the 
 earth. 
 
 I would, at that moment, have given all I had, or 
 ever expected to have, for a place of safety. The idea 
 of being ordered like that, to stand between two op- 
 posing armies. That any human being should have it 
 given into his power to say : 
 
 " You go to the front and die !" 
 
 I looked at my comrades for a sign that all was not 
 right. There seemed to be no spirit of concern or 
 question either in their faces or in their actions. 
 
 Fred, on my left, was walking with his gun at the 
 "trail," looking straight ahead. Jake, on my right, 
 and Kimball next to him, were doing the same thing ; 
 in fact, the whole line was steadily advancing. 
 
 It seemed to me that the silence before us was awful. 
 It did not matter that there was firing either to the 
 right or left ; my ears were closed to that, and both 
 eyes and ears were strained to catch a glimpse or hear 
 a sound of the enemy in front. 
 
 Of course, I was in position all this time ; spurred on 
 by pride, absence of will-power to do other than what 
 I was bid or what you will, I kept pace with the line as 
 it advanced. 
 
 At last a little break in the woods revealed the breast- 
 works of the enemy. 
 
 " Forward ! Double quick !" shouted a voice in our 
 rear.
 
 156 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 I threw one glance behind me to see if the main line 
 were advancing. 
 
 They had not moved. Could it be that this order 
 was meant for us alone. It seemed to me the faces of 
 the men in our rear were cold, cruel and grim, and I 
 wondered if it was usual to order a line of men, separ- 
 ated so widely as we were, to charge upon an enemy 
 of unknown strength. It was unreasonable to expect 
 anything like success from such a movement. 
 
 Would the silence before us never be broken ? That 
 awful hush was wearing upon me ! I nervously 
 raised my gun, looked it over to make sure it was all 
 right, then again lowered it to a " trail," clinging tight- 
 ly to it all the while. 
 
 But look ! A puff of white smoke and a red blaze 
 suddenly sprang out from the trees beyond the creek. 
 Scarcely had I seen it, when a loud report reached 
 my ears and then from the same spot a dozen or more 
 fiery throats belched forth their wrath and passion. 
 
 I heard, for the first time in my life, the shrill whistle 
 made by flying shell, and as I ducked my head, now 
 this way, now that, the sharp, quick shots of musketry 
 followed and bullets went by my ears with a " zip, zip " 
 or rattled like hail on the ground around me, or drove 
 into the earth at my feet, throwing up pieces of dirt 
 into my face. It seemed as if we were rushing into the 
 very jaws of death. 
 
 The artillery were getting our range now, and burst- 
 ing shell were flinging their iron fragments far and 
 wide. 
 
 A sudden tug at the strap holding my canteen 
 caused me to look down. My canteen had been struck 
 on the side, just tearing its cloth covering. " Whew, that 
 was a close one !" I thought, for I did a vast amount of 
 thinking in that scrambling dash.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 157 
 
 " Forward, double quick !" 
 
 But we were going then, to my mind, at breakneck 
 speed. What need for another order ? I was running 
 and trembling, when, suddenly, almost in our faces, a 
 blaze of fire and the whistling of bullets nearly robbed 
 me of what little strength remained. My heart seemed 
 to stand still, waiting for my body to be struck. For a 
 moment I didn't think I knew anything not even my 
 own name, but I pulled down the visor to my cap and 
 bent my head forward as I ran, like one breasting a 
 stinging hailstorm. 
 
 " Steady, boys, steady !" shouted our captain. "Drive 
 'em into the creek." 
 
 The veterans set their teeth, grasped their guns more 
 firmly and sprang forward, I dreamily rushing onward 
 with the rest, without a definite thought save that of 
 danger and an enemy that must be forced to retreat. 
 
 "Fire at will !" 
 
 Aha ! With the first discharge of my gun fear van- 
 ished, and a proud feeling of ability to take care of 
 myself intoxicated me after I had fired some half-dozen 
 rounds, when I again looked to the right and left. Fred 
 and Jake and Kimball and Taylor and all the others 
 were there, not a man missing, all intent on the work 
 before them, loading and firing as they advanced. 
 
 Again and again, not in volleys, but as fast as guns 
 could be loaded and fired, the enemy's artillery from 
 the woods across the creek blazed and'thundered, filling 
 the air with screaming, bursting shell. 
 
 But high above it all now rose a prolonged cheer 
 from the main line in our rear. Then the quick tread 
 of many feet encouraged us, for we knew that the army 
 was coming on. Cheer upon cheer, in which I joined 
 as lustily as any one, rolled like a wave along the line, 
 and as I took place In the front rank and touched
 
 158 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 elbows with the veterans of that advancing line, a 
 thrill of enthusiasm shot through me which I shall 
 always remember. 
 
 The transition from weakness and fear to excitement 
 and strength was brief but positive. I loaded and 
 fired and cheered, loaded and fired and yelled like a 
 madman, it seems to me, as I think of it now. 
 
 Whether I ever hit anybody I don't know, as the 
 smoke settled down upon us and we could only aim 
 low and trust to chance for results. 
 
 Several times in my haste I came near not with- 
 drawing my ramrod before firing, and shooting that 
 useful implement into the enemy's camp. 
 
 On, on, through a deadly cross-fire of shot and shell 
 that whistled and screeched and howled above us and 
 around us, striking trees, cutting through branches, 
 bounding along, plunging, ricocheting, tearing up the 
 ground and throwing clouds of loose earth over us, we 
 hurried to the finish. 
 
 Men were now falling about me but I only loaded 
 and fired the faster. Presently the artillery ceased fir- 
 ing, and almost at the same instant from out of the 
 woods in front flashed a red line of musketry. 
 
 "Charge !" 
 
 Forward, we sprang, rushing at full speed, stumbling, 
 scrambling through briers and leaping over such ob- 
 stacles as lay in our path. The enemy turned and fled 
 into the creek, we' pursuing close after them, firing as 
 we ran. Across the creek, waist deep with water, and 
 up the steep bank on the other side we followed, lessen- 
 ing the interval between the lines at every step. 
 
 At the top of the hill the enemy, gathering courage 
 from the presence of fresh troops behind intrenchments, 
 stopped long enough to fire another volley at us, then 
 retreated to other intrenchments still further to the
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 159 
 
 rear and left the outer line of defense in our posses- 
 sion. 
 
 And now, as the enemy's artillery from another point 
 directed their fire upon us, a new element of confusion 
 was added to the pandemonium of sounds about us. A 
 battery or a number of gunners from our own side had 
 come to our relief and began to blaze away at the 
 enemy. 
 
 For awhile it seemed as if shot and shell met in the 
 air and fought for right of way, such a bellowing, burst- 
 ing, roaring, echoing sound throbbed and beat upon the 
 air. It did not last long, as the enemy soon retired to 
 other intrenchments still further to the rear. 
 
 We advanced again, occupied the second line of 
 works, strengthened the reverse side as much as possi- 
 ble, and waited in silence. There were few of us who 
 cared to talk much. I had just time enough to eat a 
 small piece of bacon and a couple of hard tack when 
 some one shouted : 
 
 " Look out, boys ! They 're going to try and take 
 this line back again ! They 're corning up the 
 hill !" 
 
 This was followed by a rattle of musketry from the 
 enemy at the foot of the hill. They are coming in 
 huge, dust-covered masses, loading and firing as they 
 advance, without stop, determined to drive us out of 
 our position or die. 
 
 When they were within a hundred yards of us we 
 leveled our guns over the breastworks and let them 
 have it. They did not waver, though their lines were 
 broken and disordered, but came on faster and nearer. 
 Bullets were flying about my head with a nearness that 
 was exasperating. 
 
 We were standing two or three deep, with just enough 
 space between to allow room for loading. The rear
 
 160 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 lines were firing between and over the heads of the 
 men in front of them. 
 
 There was something maddening in the flashing and 
 explosion of the rear rank guns, their muzzles almost 
 on a line with our faces. The sharp report that was 
 continuously ringing in our ears ; the sulphurous odor 
 of burned powder, and the " zip, zip " of the enemy's 
 bullets above us, around us and between us when they 
 did not strike may. fairly be said to have constituted 
 my baptism of fire. 
 
 In camp, each movement in the operation of loading 
 and firing was anticipated by an order. Now we were 
 loading and firing independently of each other without 
 word of command ; the man who loaded quickest firing 
 oftenest. 
 
 I went through the process of loading and firing 
 mechanically, and without giving any special thought 
 as to what I was about. 
 
 The noise in my ears was so deafening that I could 
 not tell whether my gun had been discharged or not, 
 and I did not even feel it kick, although my shoulder 
 was sore for days afterward. 
 
 My ammunition was fast disappearing. My cartridge- 
 box had been emptied long ago, and I was then using 
 cartridges from my haversack ; these, too, were nearly 
 gone, yet the enemy were coming on. Men are falling 
 in all directions. We saw them a moment advancing 
 through the smoke ; they disappear like specters and 
 others glide into their places ; yet always the same 
 blackened faces, flashing eyes, clenched teeth and grip- 
 ing hands. It is hard to see men fall like that, yet the 
 sickening work went on. But they could not long en- 
 dure our terrible fire, that had already told fearfully on 
 their ranks ; and, at last, they doubted, hesitated, then 
 turned and broke for the bottom of the hill, leaving
 
 'FIRK AT wiu.!" Net f'ayt I. r t7.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 161 
 
 their dead and wounded behind them, covering- the 
 sides of the slope. 
 
 At this moment we were relieved by other troops 
 and marched to the rear, over the ground we had just 
 passed. Dead and wounded were scattered in all direc- 
 tions, and men were continually dropping out of line 
 to look at this one or that, and to offer such assistance 
 as was possible. While I was looking at the faces of 
 the different men we passed, I heard Kimball say : 
 
 " Hello ! There 's Eli Norcross, and he 's been hit, 
 too ; hit hard, I reckon. Perhaps we can help him ;" 
 saying 1 which, Kimball, Fred and I started toward a 
 form lying on the ground, some distance away. 
 
 Reaching the spot where the wounded man lay, Kim- 
 ball kneeled beside him and said : 
 
 " Are you hurt, Eli ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Through the body. I 'm 'most gone. Can't last 
 long. Hand me my haversack." 
 
 Kimball reached for the haversack, which lay a short 
 distance away, and drew it toward him. 
 
 Open it, Kimball, and take out the things that are in 
 there." 
 
 Kimball did as directed, and spread the contents of 
 the bag on the ground, where they could be easily seen. 
 
 " Kimball," said Eli, " stand the four photographs so 
 I can see them." 
 
 The pictures of his wife and three children were 
 placed so he could look at them. After a moment's 
 pause, during which the dying man gazed earnestly at 
 the pictures, he spoke, falteringly, and with labored effort: 
 
 "Kimball, I want my wife to have my watch and 
 the little money I Ve got in my pocket. I I ain't 
 got much else nothin' fer the children, God bless
 
 162 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 'em ! Give my writin'-kit ter my oldest girl. To Katie 
 give my sewin'-gear. To my boy my baby what can 
 I send ter him ?" 
 
 After pondering a moment, he continued, huskily : 
 
 " Kimball, give me a drink from my canteen." 
 
 The canteen was produced, and placed to the parched 
 and whitening lips. After drinking, Eli said : 
 
 " Kimball, send the canteen, just as it is, to my boy. 
 Write to his mother and tell her that I drank from it 
 just before I died. Tell her to explain to my boy 
 when he gets old enough, that I was killed in defend- 
 ing the flag of my country. Tell her I want my son 
 to know all about the wrong done by the men who have 
 tried to ruin this country, and that, whenever he looks 
 at this battered old canteen, to remember that his 
 father drank from it just before he died on the battle- 
 field. Kimball, you take my blanket ; it 's better than 
 yours. My poncho give it to to Hold the pict- 
 ures nearer, Kimball ; there, that's better. Ah, 'Kate 
 we did not think, as you stood in the lane holding baby 
 in your arms, the day we parted, that I should never see 
 you again. By-by, baby ; by-by, darling." 
 
 And a smile hovered around the lips of the husband 
 and father, as he closed his eyes and passed peacefully 
 away. 
 
 Taking the few things which had been intrusted to 
 his care Kimball arose, and together we left the spot, 
 hurrying on to our company, where we were loaded 
 down with a hundred rounds of ammunition. 
 
 While we were resting waiting to be called into 
 action the firing continued along the whole line, and 
 was kept up far into the night, when it gradually died 
 away, and finally ceased altogether. 
 
 At sundown the company was mustered into line and 
 the roll called.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 163 
 
 " Alfred Abbot !" cried the orderly, repeating the first 
 name on the list. 
 
 No response. 
 
 " Alfred Abbot !" the sergeant called again, this time 
 falteringly, as, lowering his book, he fixed his eyes upon 
 the ground ; for Abbot and the orderly were like 
 brothers. 
 
 " Alfred Abbot was shot as we were crossing the val- 
 ley, and before we reached the creek," replied a trem- 
 bling voice to the right. " He was by my side when he 
 fell." 
 
 The sergeant coughed, as if to control his voice, raised 
 the book, and then called : 
 
 " Ezra Armstrong !" 
 
 " Here !" 
 
 " Thomas Bennett." 
 
 " Here !" 
 
 " Erastus Brown." 
 
 No response. The sergeant repeats the name, raises 
 his eyes from the book and looks inquiringly up and 
 down the line. 
 
 " Does any one know about Brown ?" he asks. 
 
 " We jumped into the creek together," replied Taylor, 
 " but I missed him before we got to the other side." 
 
 " John Butterworth !" 
 
 " Here !" 
 
 " Charles Carroll." 
 
 " Here !" 
 
 And so on down the list, the response " Here " was 
 given, without break, until the name of Eli Norcross 
 was reached. When this name was called Kimball 
 spoke. 
 
 " Eli is dead, sergeant. He went down in the valley 
 yonder. Just as the order was given to charge. A 
 piece of shell hit him in the side."
 
 164 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Poor Eli !" said Fred, who was standing at my side. 
 " It was he who hesitated so long when we veteranized. 
 His family will miss him." 
 
 " Enoch Norton." 
 
 u Here, sergeant, all but the tip of my little finger," 
 replied Norton holding up his left hand and showing 
 the bandage around that member. 
 
 Altogether, we lost from our company, in missing 
 and killed, about a dozen men, and some half dozen 
 more that were disabled by reason of wounds. My 
 own messmates were all present, and had passed 
 through the fire, unharmed. 
 
 A cup of coffee, the first I had tasted since leaving 
 the camp at Mill Creek, a piece of bacon, toasted in the 
 fire, and a quantity of hard tack, for I was ravenously 
 hungry, constituted my bill of fare for supper, after 
 which I enjoyed a quiet smoke and then slept. 
 
 I tried to write to Mary that night, for I had much 
 to tell her. I got so far as to tell her that I had passed 
 through my first fire test unharmed when I caught my 
 hand making unintelligible lines on the paper and my- 
 self nodding over it. My eyes would not stay open. I 
 tore up the paper and rolled myself in my blanket. 
 The rugged bosom of Mother Earth was softer than 
 down to me that night and the occasional booming of 
 artillery a soothing lullaby. 
 
 Monday morning Sherman entered Resaca and an- 
 other town was scored to our credit.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 From this time onward our movements to the south 
 were through a country more open, less broken up by 
 hills and valleys and much easier to travel over. The 
 excitement was so continuous that I soon became accus- 
 tomed to it, finding time to take interest in affairs 
 beyond my own neighborhood, and to watch, as much 
 as possible, the movements of our army. 
 
 We never saw a tenth part of our whole force at one 
 time ; rarely a battle in which any considerable num- 
 ber of men were engaged. But we did see any amount 
 of skirmishing and had our share in it enough to 
 satisfy even Jake ; at least, we heard no grumbling 
 from him on this subject. 
 
 For the most part, after we left Cassville, we were 
 under fire night and day, and the feeling of fright at 
 the sound of the bullets changed to one of indifference. 
 I listened to their bodeful whistle with respectful atten- 
 tion, but not with so much anxiety and dread as at first. 
 
 While we were away off on the left, watching the 
 flank of Johnston's army and trying to turn it, we kept 
 ourselves well informed as to the movements of the 
 rest of the army. 
 
 Our information was always recent and very seldom 
 erroneous, though I am sure most of it originated in 
 
 [165]
 
 160 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 the practiced judgment of my veteran comrades and 
 their ability to interpret the sounds of distant strife 
 rather than in definite news. We seldom had time for 
 visiting with other regiments. Word would come gal- 
 loping up from headquarters, somewhere away off to 
 the right, or be " ticked " out in spasmodic jerks on 
 the telegraph key, and before the sound of the hoof- 
 beats or the click of the instrument had died away 
 drums would be beating and a regiment or two, or per- 
 haps our whole corps, would have gathered up its 
 belongings and be on the move. 
 
 The boys, with Thomas at the center, had an easy 
 time of it comparatively. It was their business to push 
 the enemy back and to hammer away until he was 
 driven out of his stronghold. It was on the Army of 
 the Tennessee at the right and on us at the left that 
 the hard work fell, and in this hard work the Army of 
 the Ohio had more than its share. Day and night we 
 were on the move, marching, countermarching, crossing 
 creeks and rivers, sometimes on bridges, oftener in the 
 water, throwing up earthworks, fighting, skirmishing, 
 continually harassing and threatening the enemy's 
 flank. 
 
 A forced march is a horror to the best soldier that 
 ever carried a rifle. It means torture of mind and 
 body ; a dull aching of bones to the very marrow ; in- 
 tense weariness and pain, and complete prostration of 
 the physical powers. It means to fall asleep before 
 you touch the ground in an attempt to lie down. Ten 
 minutes' rest at such times is only an aggravation. It 
 is easier to keep moving than to again rise at the com- 
 mand, " Fall in, men !" and find yourself stiff er and 
 sorer than before if that were possible ; but one thing 
 encourages us through it all the fact that the enemy 
 were always retreating and that our pains and aches
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 167 
 
 had not been needless, and when an objective point 
 was once reached long rests were the rule rather than 
 the exception. But whenever we started, with a long 
 distance to cover and a clear road before us, we pressed 
 on and on, halting rarely, and then only for five or 
 ten minutes, just long enough to snatch a bite of 
 something to eat and to find out how tired we really 
 were.* 
 
 The country through which we passed was deserted 
 by its inhabitants ; in some places scarcely a family was 
 left, and the males, if there were any, were either too 
 young or too old to handle a musket or were prevented 
 from so doing by reason of sickness. 
 
 The slaves, also, were mostly too old to be of any 
 use ; the others had been run off to the south, where 
 they could be of service to the Confederates. 
 
 Over the hills which had been so stubbornly defended, 
 passing intrenchments and retrenchments, passing the 
 enemy's dead, lying just as they had fallen, down the 
 slope, out of the woods, to the plain we marched in a 
 southeasterly direction and toward the Connasauga. 
 
 Reaching the river, we followed down its right bank 
 to Fites Ferry, where we crossed. As the water was 
 more than waist deep at this point, and as there was no 
 bridge, the artillery was ferried over on flatboats ; we 
 were allowed to strip before crossing. A comical sight 
 it must have been to see us with clothes, haversacks, 
 ammunition and rifles rolled up in blankets and carried 
 above our heads. Shouts of laughter greeted the un- 
 lucky fellow who slipped and wet his bundle, and they 
 were not a few who fell. Whether the cool water and 
 the opportunity for a bath presented a temptation too 
 strong to be resisted or whether it was accidental, only 
 
 * " We marched and fought during the day and fortified under cover of 
 the night. This was characteristic of the Atlanta campaign." .Diary of 
 O. L. Overly, 16<A Ky.
 
 168 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 the ludicrous side of the situation was noticed, and a 
 spectator might have easily imagined us a lot of jolly 
 school-boys out for a frolic, instead of an army of 
 veteran soldiers in pursuit of a hostile force. But the 
 bath was refreshing and answered better than a 
 rest. 
 
 Dressed and once more in line, we moved on in high 
 spirits toward Field's Mill. At the Coosawatee River, 
 four miles from Field's Mill, we found the road block- 
 aded by Hooker's troops, who had preceded us. Here 
 we halted, ate our supper, spread our blankets and were 
 soon asleep. 
 
 The next day, the ryth, was devoted to rest for us, 
 and bridge building for others. That bridge building 
 was a realized ideal in mechanics, which, to the con- 
 tractor in times of peace, would have seemed an impos- 
 sibility. From out of the woods in all directions, along 
 the river's bank, came soldiers, bearing timbers cut in 
 proper lengths, and all prepared to be placed in posi- 
 tion. While the work of preparation was going on in 
 the woods, the process of construction seemed like a 
 work of magic ; the trestle work rapidly reared its sub- 
 stantial height to the required level, and increased in 
 length, yards at a time. At ten o'clock that night, 
 when the bridge was finished, we marched over it and 
 headed for Big Springs, which we reached at three 
 o'clock next morning. 
 
 Here we found temporary barricades of rails and 
 logs, and were welcomed with volleys of musketry from 
 the enemy's skirmish line. 
 
 We speedily settled it in our minds that there would 
 be a battle at daylight, but when the day broke the 
 enemy had abandoned their position. 
 
 Early in the morning of the i8th we marched by way 
 of Cassville to Cartersville, skirmishing nearly all the
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 169 
 
 way with the enemy's rear guard, who were driven 
 back without serious loss. 
 
 At Cartersville there was some show of force, but the 
 enemy gracefully retired on the night of the ipth, 
 without offering serious opposition to our progress. 
 From this point a detachment of the Twenty-third 
 Corps, followed up the left bank of the Etowah to the 
 Etowah Iron Works and destroyed them on the 2oth. 
 
 From Cartersville we crossed the Etowah River, at 
 Gillem's Bridge, and marched over the Alatoona road 
 toward Burnt Hickory. Stoneman's cavalry were in the 
 advance, skirmishing as they went. We were gener- 
 ally in sight of the enemy's intrenched lines, and 
 subjected at all times to more or less firing from skir- 
 mishers, yet we lost but few men from the whole corps. 
 
 At Burnt Hickory we rested for three days, and most 
 thoroughly enjoyed it, although at no time was the air 
 free from the sounds of battle or skirmish. 
 
 Here I was initiated into the mystery of baking 
 beans. Boiled beans or bean soup was a dish familiar 
 enough in camp, but we never had them served to us 
 in any other way. The feast at this place was pro- 
 vided by Kimball, who had captured a couple of quarts 
 of white beans at Cartersville and shared his treasure 
 with Fred, Jake and myself, saying as he gave them 
 to us : 
 
 " Let 's hang on to these until we find a chance to 
 bake them, somewhere." 
 
 At Burnt Hickory, Kimball obtained from a deserted 
 cabin, an iron pot, which he jubilantly held aloft as he 
 came toward us after supper, remarking : 
 
 " I Ve got the thing we need, boys. We '11 have our 
 baked beans now, for sure ; and they '11 be all the 
 better by putting what we have together." 
 
 "That 's business," said Jake, and he at once began
 
 170 THE. GUN-BEARER. 
 
 to dig a hole with his bayonet using his hands to re- 
 move the loosened earth. 
 
 After the hole was made large enough to accom- 
 modate the pot, a fire was built over it and allowed to 
 burn out. The pot with its precious contents of beans, 
 water and pork and a little salt for seasoning was then 
 carefully rested on the earth at the bottom of the hole, 
 and the glowing coals filled in around it. A flat stone 
 then covered the pot and a fire was built on top of the 
 stone, spreading out so as to heat the earth about it. 
 
 " We are not to do guard duty to-night," said Kim- 
 ball ; " so we can take ' turn about ' watching the beans." 
 
 " Watching them ?" said I. 
 
 " Yes," said Jake. " There 're other people who like 
 beans, and they know when they 're cooked long enough, 
 as well as we do. Besides, you 've got to keep a little 
 fire agoin', or they won't be cooked enough." 
 
 That settled it with me. I could have watched all 
 night, if it had been necessary, for the sake of the beans; 
 but four of us made easy work of it, and when break- 
 fast time came, in the morning, the coals were brushed 
 away, the flat stone removed, and there was a sight 
 which would have delighted the eyes and the heart of 
 the most fastidious epicure in New England. 
 
 A pot of beans, cooked to perfection ; a piece of pork 
 on the top, with the rind brown and crisp. The water 
 had boiled away, leaving just enough to make them 
 juicy and appetizing. And then the odor from the 
 smoking mass as we ladled them out on our plates ! 
 it makes me hungry, even now, to think of it. We had 
 abundance for ourselves, for Taylor and for the orderly, 
 who happened along as we were taking them out of the 
 pot. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of the 25th, we heard sharp 
 firing to the south, where there seemed to be a deter-
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 171 
 
 mined effort on the part of one army to advance, and 
 equally as obstinate a disposition displayed by the 
 other army to prevent the advancement. Which was 
 the attacking party we were unable to learn. We could 
 tell only by the firing, which crept nearer and nearer 
 until the lines in front were engaged, that the move- 
 ment was general. 
 
 " There 's something up, sure 's you live," said Jake. 
 " Just hear the artillery I" 
 
 " That 's all right," said Kimball, pointing westward. 
 " But just look at that for a sunset ! And look at those 
 clouds, will you !" 
 
 We turned and saw the sun, looking like a great drop 
 of blood, just ready to sink behind the western hills, 
 while to the south we saw heavy rolls and masses of 
 angry, inky clouds rising rapidly. 
 
 "We'd better get ready for a thunder-storm," said 
 Fred. " It 's coming up fast, and a storm of that kind, 
 down here, means a drenching unless you 're housed." 
 
 " And mighty well housed, too," added Kimball. 
 
 While we were watching the sunset and the storm, as 
 it came sweeping across the sky, orders were received 
 to prepare for immediate departure. An hour later, 
 with arms at a " secure " and covered with our ponchos, 
 we fell into line and marched along the west side of 
 Pumpkin Vine Creek toward Owen's Mills. 
 
 Directly above us, and to the north, was a starry 
 space in the sky ; to the south rose the many-headed 
 crest of the stars, around the edge of which the light- 
 ning played continually, while to the east the night shut 
 in, black and dense. 
 
 Onward, mile after mile, we marched, with the boom 
 of artillery and the rattle of musketry behind us and 
 to the right of us ; on, through the darkness and deso- 
 lation, the way becoming more difficult at every step.
 
 172 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 Now and then we caught a glimpse of flashing guns 
 and of exploding shell ; and as we were not far from 
 our intrenched lines an occasional flight of bullets 
 whistled around and above us. 
 
 The roar of battle was unceasing, but now was added 
 to it the distant growling of thunder, echoing solemnly 
 down and through the vast dome of night. 
 
 " It 's going to be an awful night for a march," said 
 Jake. " Look at the rain and wind in those clouds !" 
 
 Great masses of brass-colored clouds, led by vapory 
 monsters, were hurrying across the heavens toward us, 
 seemingly borne along without wind for the air was 
 hot and stifling. The flashing lightning threw a weird 
 distorted light upon the blackness, revealing for an 
 instant the dark line of our column in front and rear, 
 and the long series of rifle pits to our right, then dis- 
 appearing leaving the darkness more intense than be- 
 fore. On rolled the brass-colored clouds, and on, above 
 them, came the muttering storm. 
 
 " Hark, Dan !" said Fred. " Did you hear that ?" 
 
 " You mean the cheering !" 
 
 " Yes. Look, Dan, look quick !" said Fred, hurriedly, 
 as a continuous chain of lightning shot out from the 
 clouds and illumined the scene for miles around. I 
 looked and saw a body of men charging across a field 
 on our right ; just in front of them, separated by only 
 a short interval of space, was another body of men 
 running at full speed. 
 
 Immediately following this protracted flash of light- 
 ning came a peal of thunder so terrific that the roar of 
 artillery could not be heard. Flash followed flash, 
 crash succeeded crash, now from the heavens, then, 
 feebly, from the guns of the contending forces. 
 
 And now, with the wind which came tearing along, 
 filling the air with leaves and limbs of trees, the storm
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 17$ 
 
 broke upon us. Behind the wind swung in the curtain 
 of the rain, sparkling in the flashing light like a heavy 
 shower of polished silver beads, and wrapping us so 
 closely in its density that we were unable to see any- 
 thing. 
 
 For a time the majesty of the storm was upon us, but 
 we stumbled and plodded along through pools of mud 
 and water, fearing more from the lightning which 
 flashed and twisted and writhed and hissed through 
 the air, driving into the ground right and left, than 
 from the fragments of bursting shell which, notwith- 
 standing the storm, the enemy still continued to throw 
 toward us. 
 
 After the fury of the storm abated, though the rain 
 continued until near midnight, we left the road and 
 took to the fields, throwing down fences as we ad- 
 vanced. 
 
 Our whole course was determined by the irregular 
 line of the enemy's intrenchments, along the front of 
 which we marched, trying to reach the end or flank and 
 turn it. 
 
 At midnight we came upon the mule teams belong- 
 ing to Hooker's army and the Army of the Cumberland. 
 Passing these obstacles was slow work and vexatious 
 and delayed our progress for an hour or more. 
 
 At Brown's Mill we crossed the little Pumpkin Vine, 
 and an hour later came in on the right of Howard's 
 Fourth Corps, on the hills facing the Dallas and Ala- 
 toona road, with the Sixteenth Kentucky in the post of 
 honor. 
 
 Friday's sun rose bright and hot, and with it again 
 the spiteful sounds of battle up and down the line ; not 
 in volleys, as when charging troops are repulsed, but 
 the isolated, irregular fire of skirmishers and sharp- 
 shooters and the boom of occasional cannons. But we
 
 174 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 held our position quietly, with nothing- to especially 
 interest us until in the afternoon troops * were massed 
 in our rear. From this they marched out along our 
 division line, crossed the Alatoona road and at length 
 stirred up a hornet's nest of rebels. They came back 
 again and passed out of sight to the northward behind 
 our lines. 
 
 The noise they stirred up soon died away, but this 
 marching meant something. Soon we got news of it 
 in the tumult that arose far away to our left, where the 
 two armies quit worrying each other with skirmish 
 firing and sprang at each other's throats. 
 
 We advanced our line a little without opposition, and 
 did not see much of the sharp fighting that took place 
 beyond. But it was practically useless. We got no 
 real advantage and our loss was severe, so they said. 
 Our boys were attacking an intrenched line, and the 
 enemy hurt them sadly. 
 
 The next day and the next the enemy tried our plan 
 on the right of our line, and they were made to suffer 
 as they had made us. And every day the battle be- 
 came more general, until on the last day of May we 
 were included in the tempest. 
 
 Early in the day a sharper sputtering of rifles in our 
 front warned us of the coming storm, and then our 
 skirmishers came hurrying in ; after them, the gray 
 backs. 
 
 " Steady, men, steady !" said Captain Hartees, in a low, 
 quieting voice. 
 
 He was on one knee at the foot of a tree ; his face was 
 set ; a naked sword was in his hand, and his black eyes, 
 just raised above the level of our head log, were flash- 
 ing up and down the slope in our front. 
 
 * General Wooda'a Division.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 175 
 
 " Steady !" he kept muttering between his teeth. 
 " Steady ! Wait till you see the whites of their eyes ; 
 then give them h ! Steady !" 
 
 I felt that our time was coming. 
 
 a Aim !" There was a grunt, that expressed both dis- 
 content and satisfaction, from Jake, at my elbow, as we 
 leveled our muskets at the line of men. 
 
 It is strange what little things fix one's attention in 
 such instants of suspended breath. I saw our captain 
 crouching behind the tree stump, like a panther bal- 
 ancing himself for a spring. I saw Fred shrug his 
 shoulder, as though a strap was chafing him. I heard 
 Jake grunt, and saw one clean-cut, yellow face in the 
 advancing crowd, and " Fire !" The yellow face was 
 hidden in the smoke. At it we went, hammer and 
 tongs. 
 
 They tried to break the line of an Illinois regiment 
 at our right, but they did not succeed. We drove them 
 back at last, and they left their dead and wounded in 
 our hands. As they hurried away, one man stopped, 
 and, turning to a fallen comrade, lifted him and was 
 bearing him away. I sighted him, but Kimball stopped 
 my finger on the trigger. "A man like that deserves 
 better 'n to be shot in the back," he said ; and I woke 
 up feeling quite ashamed of myself ; for, to tell the 
 truth, I was still so green in this business that I didn't 
 know rightly what I was doing, and would have kept 
 on firing at any moving thing in range or out of it, for 
 that matter, until brought up with a short turn. And 
 one rebel that I know of was spared, for, though I did 
 not realize what I was doing, my muscles were iron, my 
 point-blank aim was sure and my musket carried true. 
 I am glad he got away, for he was a " white " man, as 
 my boy's slang phrase now puts it. 
 
 From this place we pushed on toward Burnt Church,
 
 176 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 oftentimes in line of battle, slowly and surely forcing 1 
 the enemy back, for they contested stubbornly every 
 foot of ground we tried to cover. 
 
 Well do I remember our charge through Alatoma 
 Creek in the midst of a terrible thunderstorm, the 
 roar of heaven's artillery mingling with the boom of 
 guns in our face and the rain falling in torrents. But 
 we crossed the creek and drove the enemy up a densely 
 wooded slope, where the timber was so thick you 
 couldn't see the skirmish line back upon their reserve, 
 who opened on us a galling fire and sent us back to the 
 shelter of the timber along the creek. Here we forti- 
 fied, for we could go no farther, as the rain had swollen 
 the creek to an unfordable torrent. 
 
 " We 're in for it now," grumbled Jake, casting an 
 anxious glance back toward the angry river. "Our 
 support 's safe over yonder, and can't back us if they 
 want to." 
 
 " Looks as though we were at the mercy of the rebs," 
 Fred murmured. 
 
 " Suppose they charge us ? Where 'd we be ?" asked 
 Jake, sententiously. 
 
 " I guess we 'd hold 'em an argument, but they 
 won't," drawled Kimball. " We '11 get a free bath, 
 that 's all. The Johnnies can't do us much harm from 
 behind their works, and they won't leave them to- 
 night." 
 
 Kimball's idea of the situation proved to be correct, 
 as the enemy contented themselves with playing upon 
 us with their artillery and musketry, by which we 
 suffered little. 
 
 As we lay there that night, sleepless, in our intrench- 
 ments, we could hear the minie balls or the heavier 
 iron shot, as they went sputtering through the leaves 
 above us ; but more to be feared than minie ball or
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 177 
 
 shrapnel, were the shrill-whistling shells, which came 
 hurtling through the air or pounding against the tree 
 trunks, that turned them from their course. Sometimes 
 they burst above our heads, showering their fragments 
 upon us. More frequently, however, they passed over 
 and wasted their fury among the trees in our rear. 
 
 June 3d the enemy withdrew from our immediate 
 front, falling to intrenchments parallel with those above 
 Picket's Mill, facing north, while we spread out all the 
 time, I suppose, for Johnston, at last, found his flank 
 turned ; and on the night of June 4th, pulled up his 
 tent pegs and fell back to a point between Lost and 
 Brush Mountains, some distance north of Kenesaw. 
 
 As soon as it was discovered that Johnston had aban- 
 doned his position, Sherman lost no time in securing 
 the railroad at Acworth. Our whole front was changed. 
 Up to this time our corps had been on the left of the 
 line ; but now, while we stood fast to our position, the 
 other corps were marched by us, until Thomas, with 
 the Army of the Cumberland following one of his own 
 corps, the 2oth, that had been for a short time to our 
 left, and McPherson, with the Army of the Tennessee 
 following both, we were left in McPherson's old posi- 
 tion, on the extreme right. 
 
 It was a jolly time, full of good wit and good jokes 
 flying between us and our friends, as company after 
 company went marching past our position toward the 
 east. We did not see the whole army by any means, as 
 all did not travel by the same road ; but what we did 
 see gave me a better idea of the vast number of men 
 it had taken to bring us thus far. We were driving the 
 enemy back, and that made every face pleasant. 
 
 While we rested there Fred and I wrote home.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Much has been written concerning the Atlanta cam- 
 paign, and from a broader, more comprehensive point 
 of view than mine. Our company our regiment, even 
 was but a drop in the bucket, compared with the sum- 
 total of Sherman's great army. Though rumors flew 
 thick and fast along our line, so that we at the extreme 
 left knew what was going on perhaps twenty or thirty 
 miles to the right of us, yet, from the fact that so many 
 thousands of men were engaged and so little depended, 
 apparently, on the acts of a single regiment, those ele- 
 ments were wanting which were necessary to make it 
 seem a personal struggle. 
 
 To tell the story of our experiences, from New Hope 
 Church to the fall of Atlanta, would be but to repeat, 
 with slightly different scenic settings, the tale of the 
 skirmishes, flank movements and constant pushing for- 
 ward by the left, which I have already described. Of 
 these the reader would soon weary, and that which is 
 to come would seem to be only the ringing of another 
 change in the same line of experience.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 179 
 
 Of the events to be described, little, if anything, has 
 ever been written. They occurred at a time when 
 every man was of the utmost importance ; when our 
 numbers were greatly reduced, and when the conditions 
 were the reverse of those we had just passed over, as 
 we were retreating before a vastly outnumbering foe. 
 Therefore, as the object of this story is more to give the 
 personal experiences of a soldier than to compile a 
 regimental history, I hurry over the weeks and months 
 preceding the fall of Atlanta, to take up the details of 
 our struggles with Hood in Central Tennessee. 
 
 The purpose of describing our experience thus far 
 will have been accomplished if the reader is enabled 
 thereby to see in what a school for soldiers we were. 
 On the move from morning till night, nay, even liable 
 to be roused from our sky-covered beds at midnight 
 to march through trackless woods, over rocky ridges, 
 through creeks and streams and mud and dust and 
 swamp, in rain or wind or scorching heat, often with- 
 out fire, and always under the enemy's guns. 
 
 Such was our service for months, with now and then 
 a sharp engagement, in which our number was greatly 
 reduced by killed and wounded. 
 
 We were well fed and hearty ; sickness seemed to 
 have vanished from us in that clear mountain air, 
 above all, we were full of courage. We felt that the 
 great mind of our general was directing all our move- 
 ments and we saw that he had made no mistakes. 
 
 I must not forget the grim smile of satisfaction 
 which spread over the composite face of the army when 
 we learned that Hood had succeeded Johnston, who 
 had so well managed his command as to win our re- 
 spect. Johnston had been giving us the hardest kind 
 of work, and it was with absolute satisfaction, there- 
 fore, that we heard of the change. Certainly Hood
 
 180 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 could be no worse for us. Then, too, we heard that 
 Johnston's careful but safe policy was not the one to be 
 pursued by his successor ; that " now there would be 
 something done." All of which was very amusing, to 
 say the least, and provoked a smile of gratification. It 
 was right into our hand, and just what we wanted. 
 
 But somehow those fights never came off, and there 
 was no radical change of policy. We continued to push 
 and the enemy continued to retreat, just as before. 
 
 Wherever we planted our feet that ground was ours. 
 It would have taken legions to dislodge us. 
 
 We speedily learned the use of the ax and shovel. 
 As soon as we found the enemy holding a strong posi- 
 tion in front of us we set to work throwing up intrench - 
 ments. That this work was almost always performed 
 under fire did not matter. The ax was swung just as 
 steadily, and pick and shovel were just as unceasingly 
 handled until the work was complete. 
 
 Our breastworks usually consisted of a continuous 
 trench, about two or three feet deep. The earth was 
 thrown forward and sloped so as to give the greatest 
 height next the trench. Logs were frequently placed 
 along the edge of the trench as we began to dig ; these 
 logs formed a sill. Cross timbers were then laid on 
 these sills and another line of logs parallel with and 
 above the first line were laid on the binders. The ex- 
 cavated earth was then thrown forward of and banked 
 against the logs, and the work continued until the top 
 log was about breast high. 
 
 In front of this intrenchment small trees were laid 
 together, with the branches toward the enemy. The 
 small limbs were trimmed away and the larger limbs 
 sharpened, so that thousands of wooden points were 
 presented an obstacle through which the enemy must 
 pass in order to reach us.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 181 
 
 Behind a fortification like this one feels compara- 
 tively safe ; before it, however, the case is different, as 
 any soldier of experience can testify. Many a time 
 have I seen some unlucky graycoated soldier caught by 
 the sharp-pointed abatis and shot before he could ex- 
 tricate himself. 
 
 In a short time after the enemy disappeared from 
 before our breastworks, perhaps within an hour, we left 
 our position and advanced to a new one, always with 
 the same round of work and excitement. 
 
 This constant spreading out and building intrench- 
 ments, together with the fact that we were never 
 attacked with our own numbers, never had a chance at 
 the enemy except when we found them in superior 
 force or behind strong intrench ments, so worked upon 
 us that we were all " spoiling for a fight." 
 
 If we could only get a chance at the enemy in the 
 open ground. But the country around New Hope 
 Church, Kenesaw Moimtain and Alatoona was so 
 broken into hills and irregular ridges and ravines 
 and valleys that it was impossible to get the vantage 
 ground we longed for. 
 
 However strong the intrenchments of the enemy 
 might be, we could find high places enough in their 
 immediate vicinity from which to make an attack, 
 and sometimes to overlook and command their posi- 
 tions, but that was all. Then, too, the thick cover of 
 the forests so completely veiled our movements that 
 we were frequently enabled to get into the rear of the 
 enemy and make the attack from that side. But Hood, 
 whenever he found there was a possibility of his being 
 cut off from Atlanta, rapidly abandoned his positions 
 and fell back, and the actual contact, the pitched battle, 
 never came. 
 
 This round of duty became more or less monotonous
 
 182 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 as the days grew into weeks, and the weeks into months. 
 Of course, our talk of narrow escapes, on picket or in 
 the skirmish, was often relieved by some extraordinary 
 event, which gave variety to our after battle talk ; but 
 for the most part, as we were having things very much 
 our own way, we gave but little thought to passing 
 events. 
 
 While we were at the battle around Pine Mountain 
 an incident occurred to which many of us owed our lives. 
 
 Early in the morning of the i3th of June we were 
 advanced as skirmishers up the side of the mountain, 
 and in front of the line of battle formed by our army. 
 The skirmish line was well extended, the men being 
 separated from each other by a distance of perhaps 
 three paces. 
 
 Our movements were in plain sight of the enemy, and 
 a continual popping was heard from their sharpshoot- 
 ers' pits, while over our heads whirred and screamed 
 the shell thrown at the line in our rear. 
 
 Up the hill we went, from tree to tree, from stump to 
 stump, and from rock to rock, one eye on the line of 
 rifle-pits, in front and above us ; the other eye on our 
 own line, the next stopping place, or on the ground 
 over which we were travelling. 
 
 There was a quality of excitement in this running and 
 jumping, and darting from cover to cover daring, chal- 
 lenging the markmanship of sharpshooters that pro- 
 voked a spirit of recklessness which increased with every 
 successful advance we made. I appreciated the pro- 
 tection of a big tree trunk, or rock, and cannot describe 
 the combined feelings of confidence and doubt which 
 possessed me as I stood for an instant in a place of 
 comparative safety selecting my next goal, and then 
 took the plunge from security into danger, not know- 
 ing but I should fall by the way. '
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 183 
 
 My interest in fhis method of advance so absorbed 
 me, that I took little note of anything else, until Fred 
 shouted : 
 
 " Keep your eye on the line, Dan ! Don't get too far 
 ahead of it !" 
 
 It was hard for the individual to regulate his motions 
 by the movement of the line, as the chances for success 
 seemed to be lessened by being thus handicapped. 
 Sometimes the firing in my immediate front was so 
 heavy that I waited an instant before starting. 
 
 To be sure, we had now been under fire for a month, 
 but somehow there had never before appeared to be so 
 much danger. Heretofore, we had been screened by 
 dense woods and a heavy undergrowth, and so, with 
 one exception, had never been brought so clearly face 
 to face with what we had to encounter. In previous 
 engagements we had touched elbows, and had felt the 
 thrill and encouragement of companionship. Now we 
 were as individuals, a mark for sharpshooters, toward 
 whose pits we were pressing on and on. 
 
 A small house stood almost in our path as we ad- 
 vanced up the slope. There was little or no protection 
 between that point and the first line of the enemy's 
 intrenchments. A good number of our men were 
 shaping their course to get behind that ; but Captain 
 Hartees, noting the movement, shouted : 
 
 " Keep your distances, men ; and whatever you do 
 keep away from that house !" 
 
 Pressing on, we turned farther to the left, avoiding 
 the house. Company A, however, determined to take 
 advantage of the shelter. 
 
 " Keep away from that house," I heard Hartees shout 
 to the captain of Company A, but no attention was 
 paid to the warning. 
 
 Up, up we went, until we were close upon the enemy's
 
 184 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 works. Here every man, behind the best shelter he 
 could find, halted for breath. I turned for a look at 
 the main line and when I saw, perhaps a hundred 
 yards below us, those solid ranks of men who were 
 used to this sort of thing, who had made war and battle 
 a business for the last three years, when I saw those 
 men moving hurriedly yet steadily forward, a feeling 
 of security came over me that whistling bullets and 
 shrieking shell could not dissipate. 
 
 I looked over our skirmish line to the right and left ; 
 every man was at his post, eager, expectant, waiting for 
 the word to go. I saw besides that we were in direct 
 line with the house and that Company A had huddled 
 in behind it. 
 
 We were waiting for breath and the word to charge 
 upon this outer work in front. The enemy were in 
 good position and would make it warm for us. There 
 was no doubt of that. We might succeed in getting 
 force enough into their works to drive them out, but if 
 we didn't what ? It would be a hand-to-hand fight 
 and if it should come to that 
 
 " Forward !" yelled the captain, and as we sprang 
 out with the order to advance, the guns of the enemy 
 were opened furiously upon us. 
 
 "Quick, my men !" shouted Hartees, who was in ad- 
 vance of us. " Now 's your chance !" 
 
 With a sort of scared hurrah which was caught up 
 and echoed by the line behind us, we broke for the 
 works, passed the rifle pits, with the sharpshooters still 
 in them, and into the line of intrenchments, where we 
 took a few prisoners. Why the force opposing us was 
 not larger was quickly explained by one of the cap- 
 tured men, who said to Hartees : 
 
 " Captain, nobody here. They Ve gone 'nd are tryin' 
 ter lead yer on. Yer 'd better not try 'nd go any furder
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 185 
 
 ter-day. I 'm a prisoner now, 'nd it don't make no dif- 
 ference ter me what I says, but we Ve got a right smart 
 work back o' this ; been at it fer a month. 'F yer try 
 it on ther men '11 git cut up purty bad 'nd the rest '11 
 git gobbled." 
 
 Captain Hartees sent the man to the general, and 
 while awaiting developments we lay down under cover 
 on the reverse side of the works we had captured, safe 
 from the action of the artillery beyond. 
 
 Looking backward over the ground we had just 
 passed we saw in the prostrate forms, lying just as they 
 had fallen, the wretched work made by the enemy's 
 guns. We also saw why it was that we were ordered 
 to keep away from the house. The fire of the artillery, 
 at the moment of our advance, had been concentrated 
 on this house and had riddled it, the enemy knowing 
 that men would naturally seek shelter behind it. 
 
 The result was disastrous to Company A, and many 
 were killed and wounded with shot and shell and flying 
 splinters, while we escaped almost without losing a 
 man. 
 
 The works we captured were of great strength, built 
 of logs and stone and covered with loose earth.
 
 CHAPTER XVIL 
 
 From the time we were within twenty miles of At- 
 lanta we were kept constantly informed of the cruelties 
 practiced on our men who were prisoners at Anderson- 
 ville a place about one hundred miles from our camp. 
 
 Every day or two one or more escaped prisoners 
 would be picked up by some portion of Sherman's 
 army, and the story of their sufferings passed from 
 camp to camp. There was one story that came home 
 to us. 
 
 One day we had settled into position at the siege of 
 Atlanta. Kimball, who had been out with a squad from 
 Company I, brought back with him a poor fellow who 
 had escaped from Andersonville. 
 
 " I found him in the brush, asleep," said Kimball, 
 " and I thought he was dead at first." 
 
 To describe the half-crazed starving stranger, and do 
 justice to the appearance he presented, would be to fill 
 the page with sickening details ; suffice it to say, that 
 soap and water were vigorously applied ; his tangled, 
 matted hair and beard were trimmed ; his clothes were 
 all removed, thrown into the fire, and he was dressed in 
 another outfit, worn and old to be sure, but clean, and 
 contributed by the boys. 
 [186]
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 187 
 
 After this he devoured all we dared give him, and 
 slept by the fire during' the rest of the day. At sun- 
 down, he awoke apparently much refreshed, and we 
 placed before him a piece of broiled beef, a cup of 
 coffee and a half dozen hard tack. And, while sitting 
 with his back against a tree, still eating, he told the 
 story of his imprisonment and his suffering ; and a 
 feverish glow arose to his pallid cheeks, and his eye 
 glittered with a wild, demented light, as he talked. 
 
 " Boys, " he said, as we gathered around him to eat 
 our own supper, " you want to know how they treated 
 us down there ?" lifting his bony finger in the direction 
 of Anderson ville. " Look at me. I 'm the kind of work 
 they turn out. A few months ago, and I was the equal 
 of the best of you. And now " 
 
 His eyes filled with tears, and his voice grew husky, 
 as he continued, tremblingly : 
 
 " Boys, it unmans me to think of sitting here, eating 
 and drinking, while thousands of our poor fellows over 
 there have nothing fit to eat ; not a drop of pure water 
 to drink ; not even a bone to gnaw ; nothing but a little 
 measure of thin ham broth every day ; hundreds dying 
 of starvation, and hundreds going mad every day." 
 
 He carefully set down the dipper of weak coffee from 
 which he had been drinking. His head sank on his 
 breast, and he was silent for a moment, while great 
 drops of sweat rolled down his face. But we waited 
 patiently, in full sympathy with his emotion, and in 
 time the story was resumed. 
 
 " What is it like ? It is a pen ; a slaughter-house 
 yard ; an open field surrounded by a high log fence, 
 perhaps a quarter of a mile long each way. Into this 
 place last June twenty-six thousand men were crowded. 
 'T is true ; the fiends themselves said so. Hot ? Not a 
 breath of wind sifted through the pine forest outside
 
 188 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 the tall stockade. All night as well as throughout the 
 day the heat was intense something we never have 
 north. The brook which flowed through the pen was 
 filthy with the offal from the rebel camp and cook- 
 houses before it reached us ; but we had to drink it ; 
 't was all there was." 
 
 " What did they feed you on ?" asked Kimball. 
 
 " Feed ? A bit of moldy bacon and musty meal. 
 That 's what they gave us. 'Twas just enough to keep 
 us alive to suffer no more. Our strength soon failed, 
 and our hope, too. Our clothes, what we had, were in 
 tatters or had been torn up for bandages, and we were 
 covered with vermin from head to foot. Still the rebs 
 were afraid of us, weak and helpless as we were, for 
 they shot us down like dogs if we dared cross the dead- 
 line near the stockade. 
 
 " And then the new comers. Every morning brought 
 them, sometimes by the hundreds, and yet the pen 
 never grew any fatter. There were as many dead 
 carted away next day. Stand in any part of that place 
 to look about you, the same scenes met your eye ; 
 groups of men sitting or standing and looking toward 
 something in the center ; men walking or crawling 
 between these groups ; everybody dirty, ragged and 
 starving. No sound of voices, except in oaths or yells 
 of the mad or in the groans of the dying. Conversa- 
 tion, such as there was, was carried on in low tones or 
 in a whisper. It would break your heart to look in 
 there. Men, as well as I, watched by the sick ; while 
 those who were only able to move watched by the 
 dying. 
 
 " Hard sights those. They would turn your hair 
 white as mine is, to see all that misery and cruelty." 
 
 "What about the wounded?" I asked, after the 
 stranger had rested for a time, ,
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 189 
 
 "The wounded were treated like the rest. They 
 could get no attendance. The surgeons never came to 
 our relief. Hundreds of men were lying about that 
 lot, only a quarter-mile square, dying of gangrene and 
 mortification, without relief, except what we well ones 
 could give them. We, who had nothing ourselves, not 
 even shirts with which to make bandages, and no water 
 anywhere, except what we drank, and that was not fit 
 to wash a wound with. 
 
 " I remember one poor fellow 't was just after I was 
 thrown into the pen that I met him. Such sights were 
 new to me then, and I could not look at them calmly. 
 He was a smart young fellow, good looking, or had 
 been, and was well educated. Anybody could have 
 seen that. He had a nice home in Kentucky, and he 
 used to tell us about it, that is before he lost his head. 
 He went to the war at the first boom of cannon, like 
 the rest of us, and they caught him early in the game. 
 
 " At that time the rebs didn't have so many prisoners, 
 and what they did have fared pretty well. Then this 
 young fellow was strong and healthy ; but when more 
 men came and were crowded into the same inclosure, 
 things got rapidly worse, till he thought he couldn't 
 stand it any longer ; then he made up his mind to 
 escape, and he did. 
 
 " He only got as far as northern Tennessee, when he 
 was captured by a band of guerrillas. They wouldn't 
 have got him, but they first wounded him in the knee, 
 and he couldn't get away. He was sent back to the 
 pen and thrown in with others, and there I found him, 
 lying on the ground, without shelter, without food, 
 without medicine and fast going into the fever. 
 
 " For days we watched beside him, two or three 
 others and myself, bringing him dirty water, moldy 
 bacon and musty meal queer food, for a dying man
 
 190 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 and standing up that he might have the benefit of our 
 spare shadows when the sun was hottest. 
 
 " I tell you boys, 't was hard. I raved and swore and 
 begged the guard to send somebody, to do something ; 
 but they wouldn't listen. 'T was no use ; but I was 
 new to the place and didn't know men could be so in- 
 human. 
 
 " The night following the second day after I found 
 him I think it was the second day it was sweltering 
 hot and the air was terrible. It seemed to settle down 
 upon us like an invisible blanket, about to smother us 
 out of misery. Is it any wonder that men went mad ? 
 To lie there on such nights and see the moon rise 
 bright and full over the tops of the dark, motionless 
 pines ! Many a poor fellow stood as I did, watching 
 the great shining ball roll higher and higher, and 
 groaned in his misery. It seemed as if I could feel the 
 sweet, cool breezes of the night, away off among the 
 hills where that moon was shining ; see the soft mist 
 steal up from the brooks and rivers, and let me see 
 where was I ? It was the second night, and after the 
 sun had been down about two hours I went for some 
 water. 
 
 " When I came back there were half a dozen men 
 squatting around my young friend. They motioned 
 me to stop as I came up. I looked at the face of the 
 dying man. The moonlight was shining in his eyes 
 and they glistened like diamonds. He had caught sight 
 of me and called me in a loud whisper, seeming to take 
 me for his brother : 
 
 " ' Look, Fred, look ! See ! See !' " 
 
 Fred left my side at the fire and drew closer, so that 
 not a syllable of the stranger's weak voice should 
 escape him. The stranger continued : 
 
 " What he saw we did not know. Most likely 't was
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 191 
 
 home, poor boy ; but death came and took him. The 
 next day he was carted off among the usual morning 
 load of those that went out feet foremost." 
 
 The stranger ceased, and a silence which we could 
 almost feel fell upon us. I looked around me. The 
 stranger was leaning forward, his face covered with his 
 h^nds, his elbows resting on his sharp, pointed knees. 
 He was exhausted with his story. 
 
 Our fire had mostly burned out, but it still gave 
 light enough for me to see, behind the circle of our own 
 mess, seated on the ground or standing, bending for- 
 ward in strained attitudes, a deep circle of men from 
 other messes, who had, unperceived, come up to listen. 
 
 Fred, who was half kneeling beside the stranger, 
 watched him earnestly, as if waiting for him to speak 
 again. At last he said, in a husky whisper : 
 
 " What was his name ?" 
 
 " Charles Nichols," replied the stranger. " He told 
 me he had a brother in a Ken 
 
 But Fred waited to hear no more. He arose and 
 hurried away into the darkness of the woods, whither I 
 followed him. 
 
 Fred was a surer shot with his rifle after that.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 When Atlanta fell into our hands, in August, there 
 was a work of reorganization to be done. This great 
 manufacturing center of the South must become a 
 military post and nothing more. As a means to this 
 end, all the civil inhabitants were forced to leave ; they 
 could go South or North as best suited them, but go 
 they must. 
 
 The majority, clinging to the Confederate cause, went 
 South, taking with them, in long wagon trains, all their 
 belongings. In a short time there was not a family 
 left in Atlanta. 
 
 The streets were filled with marching troops and 
 rumbling wagon trains. The largest buildings groaned 
 under the weight of provisions stored there. . The post- 
 office was opened and run by soldier clerks. Bakeries, 
 blacksmith shops, machine and carpenter shops, oper- 
 ated by soldier mechanics, were running night and day, 
 and the city at once became a workshop, in which the 
 wants of Sherman's army were promptly and satisfac- 
 torily supplied. 
 
 Meanwhile we were resting on our arms at Decatur, 
 in Northern Alabama, and in the midst of plenty. 
 
 In the second half of September rumors of Confeder- 
 ate activity spread through our camp. We learned 
 [192]
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 193 
 
 that Hood had met and conferred with Jefferson Davis 
 at Palmetto, and that Forrest, the Confederate cavalry 
 leader, was disturbing- our friends in east Tennessee 
 
 Soon it became apparent that an attempt would be 
 made to break up the railroad, which was our line of 
 communication with the north. The whole army was 
 immediately in motion, and leaving the Twentieth 
 Corps as a guard to Atlanta, we started on the back 
 track to Marietta. 
 
 When in the neighborhood of Kenesaw, we heard 
 sounds of heavy firing away to the north in the direc- 
 tion of Alatoona, a railroad point of the utmost im- 
 portance to keep in our possession. If the enemy 
 captured this place our line of communication would 
 not only be broken but a million rations, which were 
 stored there, would also be lost. 
 
 At Kenesaw, our corps branched off, marching along 
 the Burnt Hickory turnpike to the west, burning bushes 
 and hayricks as we went, to show Sherman, who was 
 watching from the side of Kenesaw, what progress we 
 were making. 
 
 We did not meet the enemy, and to us it seemed that 
 the movement had been of little use, as the next day 
 we learned that Alatoona was perfectly safe. Hood 
 had threatened Rome, then Resaca, and we followed 
 him closely. From Resaca we marched southwest 
 along the Coosa River, reconnoitering and foraging 
 and on the 2oth or 2ist of October pitched our camp 
 near Cedar Bluffs. 
 
 Hood had departed from the railroad, and we next 
 heard of him before Decatur and still later that he was 
 concentrating his forces near Florence, also in Alabama, 
 on the north bank of the Tennessee River. 
 
 Sherman's army was scattered all the way from 
 Chattanooga, which General Thomas held, down the
 
 194 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 railroad to Atlanta. Every exposed point was fortified 
 with blockhouses or redoubts and strongly garrisoned. 
 
 Hood was not our equal in strength and showed no 
 disposition to attack us, but was quietly concentrating 
 and organizing at Florence. Just what hi purpose 
 was, we did not know, but it was rumored that he had 
 in view an advance into Eastern Tennessee. 
 
 We, in the heart of Georgia, with one hand on the 
 the main artery of the South, knowing that Hood was 
 not strong enough to drive us out, felt that his object 
 was to entice us away. If he succeeded and lured us 
 back to Tennessee our toil for the summer was thrown 
 away. What would grow out of the situation was a 
 puzzling question. 
 
 As a rule, soldiers, especially veterans, if they are 
 well-fed and officered by men whom they respect, 
 rarely bother their heads about plans for the future. 
 The only time when they departed from this rule, to 
 any extent, was at this crisis, when Sherman himself 
 seemed in doubt. At this time the possibilities of and 
 projects for the future were being thoroughly can- 
 vassed. 
 
 By the ist of November Sherman had reached a 
 determination in regard to the Twenty-third Corps, at 
 least. The Fourth Corps [Stanley's], 15,000 men, had 
 been sent to reinforce Thomas, at Nashville. On the 
 3ist of October we, the Twenty- third Corps, under 
 Schofield, 12,000 men, were ordered in the same direc- 
 tion. At Resaca, Cooper's division halted ; but Cox's 
 division pushed on. 
 
 We entered again into the outlying spurs and well- 
 constructed earth-works of Dalton, and, halting near the 
 railroad, waited for transportation, northward, through 
 Buzzard's Roost Gap, to Nashville. 
 
 There was hardly a moment of the day or night
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 195 
 
 when we did not hear the "puff-puff " of locomotives 
 drawing heavily loaded trains through the town or the 
 shrill whistle of others dashing through the Gap to the 
 north and around the curves and spurs of Rocky Face 
 Ridge. 
 
 Sherman was sending back all his stores in Atlanta, 
 all his sick, wounded and disabled and all his baggage. 
 There was life enough along the railroad in these hur- 
 rying days, when endless trains went rattling and slam- 
 ming by, headed for the North, trailing behind them 
 banners of smoke and steam ; and when trains return- 
 ing from the North brought recruits, ammunition and 
 returning furloughed men. 
 
 While waiting, we often went to the road to watch 
 this constant flowing stream of war. And when a train 
 of wounded men stopped near us we offered what 
 assistance we could. Many a sad sight we saw. In 
 box-cars, half full of straw or brush, lay sick and 
 wounded, some with arms or legs or heads tied up, 
 pale and sunken faces distorted with pain. Here and 
 there lay one raving with fever. There were always 
 water to be brought and little things to be done, which 
 were works of mercy, and which we could do well 
 enough to assist the tired, overworked surgeons and 
 nurses. 
 
 And what a change was there when, perhaps, the 
 same train returned with recruits and furloughed men. 
 The open doors of the box-cars would be filled with 
 eager faces of green recruits, sturdy but inexperienced, 
 looking far away before them, as if they expected to 
 see the surrounding hills sparkling with fire. 
 
 On the 3d or 4th of November a train ran in bound 
 north, bearing soldiers looking hale and hearty. They 
 were Cooper's division of our corps, who had taken the 
 cars at Resaca. It was four days after they disappeared
 
 196 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 through the Gap before we procured transportation 
 and followed them, through Buzzard's Roost and Ring- 
 gold, travelling over the old ground. 
 
 As we rattled and jolted slowly northward, it seemed 
 to us that the war was drawing to a close. We had 
 read of the Confederate army penned in around Peters- 
 burg, and we knew that the authorities at Richmond 
 would not permit Atlanta to fall into our hands with- 
 out sending assistance, if assistance could be spared. 
 
 We read, too, of Sheridan flying up and down the 
 valley of the Shenandoah. The stories of his exploits 
 reminded us of our Fitzpatrick, and we enjoyed them. 
 
 Mobile had fallen. No troops on the other side of 
 the Mississippi were available to the enemy. Their 
 forts on the sea-coast had also been mostly taken. 
 Fort Fisher alone was hostile. 
 
 We had left General Sherman behind us, making 
 preparations for a grand undertaking, which we knew 
 would not be long delayed. He was going to the sea, 
 If he succeeded and not a man among us doubted it 
 a broad road of ruin would be laid from border to 
 border, directly through the heart of the would-be 
 Southern nation. What could there be left for the Con- 
 federacy ? The stars and bars were floating now over a 
 disheartened but desperate country a nation whose 
 actual possessions were rapidly melting away a nation 
 on paper only. 
 
 In due time we were landed in Pulaski, Tennessee. 
 With us there were Stanley's Fourth Corps. To the 
 south of us our cavalry, under Hatch, Croxton and 
 Capron, was scouring the country and watching Hood, 
 who was still in Florence, organizing and preparing. 
 Strickland's brigade of our division of the Twenty- 
 third Corps was in camp at Columbia, a town behind 
 us, on the road to Nashville, where General Thomas
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 197 
 
 was drilling recruits. There, too, was Wilson's dis- 
 mounted cavalry [10,000 men], and thither General A 
 J. Smith was hastening from Missouri, with perhaps 
 10,000 more. 
 
 Hood, meanwhile, showed no decided signs of mov- 
 ing. He had, no doubt, intended to be on the march 
 before, but all his preparations were delayed by the 
 wretched condition of the single track railroad over 
 which his provisions and stores had to be transported, 
 and by the state of the country, which was softened by 
 rains and flooded by swollen rivers.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Sherman had, at last, gone south and east, without a 
 foe in his path. Hood, with fifty thousand men, had 
 left Alabama, was slowly working his way north, aim- 
 ing toward Pulaski and, just now, was making demon- 
 strations on Lawrenceburg and Waynesboro, in middle 
 Tennessee. We, perhaps ten thousand strong, were 
 expected, so it afterward appeared, to oppose this ad- 
 vancement, and give General Thomas an opportunity 
 to still further recruit and increase his army at Nash- 
 ville. 
 
 The storms, which had delayed Hood for so long a 
 time, were still raging ; and, while they had been for- 
 tunate obstacles to his movements, they had also proved 
 equally discouraging to us. 
 
 A shower, or even a rainy day, now and then, was 
 only a disagreeable incident, common to a soldier's life, 
 and to be expected ; but these cold, continuous storms 
 of rain, sleet, snow, hail and wind were a lasting misery 
 and very demoralizing. 
 
 If the weather had been all we had to contend with, 
 however, we might have endured our hardships much 
 better than we did, but we were sadly in need of cloth- 
 ing. Mine was worn and thin. The skirts of my over- 
 198]
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 199 
 
 coat had been burned in a dozen places by coming 
 too near the fire. A goodly number of us, also, were 
 without blankets. Many a night, in stormy weather, 
 we went into camp, wet and muddy, and without fire or 
 blankets passed the night in sleepless misery. 
 
 When we were at a safe distance from the enemy far 
 enough away to indulge in a fire, I have stood half the 
 night smoking my pipe, scorching, burning and drying 
 my clothes, trying to warm myself and, at last, lie 
 down on a pile of green boughs, with no other covering 
 than a rubber blanket, and shivered myself to sleep. 
 
 Rations, too, were not always plenty, and while, as 
 yet, we had not been compelled to do without, we were 
 far from being well fed, and sometimes had to eke out 
 our supply of food with such forage as we could pick 
 up from the already well plundered farmers along the 
 road. 
 
 The few families, who yet remained in Pulaski, had 
 endured the hardships of war with a half-starved, 
 heroic patience, born of necessity. This town had 
 alternately been visited and robbed by both Union and 
 Confederate soldiers, so that there were at best only 
 small pickings for us ; but though the people were 
 poor, and had scarcely provisions enough for them- 
 selves, when any of our boys called on them for some- 
 thing to eat, they were always given such as the house 
 afforded, and as much as could be spared. 
 
 Women who had hitherto been waited upon were 
 compelled to learn the art of serving themselves, and 
 much of the bitterness reported of these people in the 
 early part of the war had disappeared ; their pride had 
 been humbled, and in its place had sprung up a more 
 respectful, if not a kindlier feeling toward the Union 
 soldiers. 
 
 We were well informed as to the movements of the
 
 200 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 enemy, our information coming, for the most part, from 
 scouts, deserters from Hood's army who occasionally 
 came into our lines or from cavalrymen, who were 
 continually scouring the woods in front of us. 
 
 The most positive knowledge concerning Hood's 
 movements that we were able to get was obtained 
 from an old negro, who came into our lines on the 
 night of the 2ist of November. 
 
 Fred and Jake and I were on picket, and stationed 
 by a clump of bushes, near the Lawrenceburg Road. 
 The hour was hardly later than ten, when our attention 
 was attracted by a low, rumbling noise, away up the 
 road, coming from the direction of the enemy. 
 
 The sound became louder and more distinct as it 
 approached us. At times we fancied we heard voices. 
 Was it possible the enemy were so near ? And were they 
 moving toward us in such force as to set aside all 
 thought of a surprise ? were questions we asked our- 
 selves. 
 
 We strained our ears to listen more carefully before 
 sounding an alarm, and finally convinced ourselves that 
 the noise proceeded from a rickety wagon. Later we 
 were satisfied there was but one voice, and shortly after 
 our fears were allayed by seeing, in the dim starlight, a 
 man standing in a wagon, belaboring a mule with a 
 stick, and calling out, at the top of his voice : 
 
 " Git along dar, you mule ! Git along dar, git !" 
 
 " Reckon I 'd better stop that fellow where he is," 
 said Fred, as soon as the team came within hailing dis- 
 tance. 
 
 " No, no !" I responded. " Let him come a little 
 nearer. Let 's see who the fellow is." 
 
 " Whack, whack, whack ! " resounded the stick as it struck 
 the " cast-iron back " of the mule, while the wagon rattled 
 its way toward us. Finally, Fred, who was unable to
 
 THE GITN-BEARER. 201 
 
 restrain his impatience longer, cried out, in a tone 
 unusually severe for him : 
 
 " Halt !" 
 
 "Golly! Who dar? Wha-what f s dat ? What 's 
 de matter ? What 's de matter ?" replied the startled 
 darkey, as he gave a sudden jerk to the reins which 
 brought his animal to a standstill. 
 
 " Who goes there ?" 
 
 " Nuffin' but a pore ol' nigga, who 's a-tryin' ter get 
 away from de rebels and to jine de Yankees !" 
 
 " What do you want to join the Yankees for ?" asked 
 Fred. 
 
 " Kaze I does ! I done got a heap tired ob de rebs, 
 and I 's a gwine ter jine de odder side, I is !" 
 
 " Well, what have you got in your wagon ; anything 
 to eat ?" 
 
 " Ain't got nuffin', marse boss, but a few ol' rings, 
 what ain't no good ter nobody but a pore ol' nigga !" 
 
 " Drive up this way. Let 's see who you are." 
 
 " All right, marse ! I 's a comin', sho ! Git along 
 dar, you mule ! Git along dar !" 
 
 Again the stick was brought into service upon the 
 back of the unimpressionable mule and again every 
 bolt and rivet in the old wagon clattered and rattled as 
 it moved toward us. 
 
 "There," said Fred, "stop where you are." 
 
 " All right, marse ! Tell me ; is you de Yankee 
 soldiers ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Fred. " Where are you from ?" 
 
 " 'Bout two miles from Lawrenceburg." 
 
 " What are you running away for ? Don't you know 
 the Johnnies are not within nine miles of you ?" 
 
 " Gollies, marse, I knows dat ; but dis chile 's power- 
 ful afraid of a flank movemant. Dat 's what 's de matter 
 wid me."
 
 202 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Where are the Johnnies now." 
 " Dey was in de 'burg this morning-, and I jest got up 
 an' skedaddled 'fo' dey had de time ter flank me." 
 " Do you know how much of an army Hood has ?" 
 " I don' know, Marse, but dey has a heap o' men, and 
 dey's jist a gwine ter do a heap o' flanking, so I heerd 
 de white people sayin', but dey don' flank this chicken 
 not much." 
 
 ' Where did you hear the rebs were going ?" 
 ' Dey 's a gwine ter git in the raar of de Yankees, an* 
 is a makin' for Duck Ribber." 
 
 " Was Hood's army moving when you left." 
 " Yes, an' dey was on deir road to Pulaski." 
 " Was the whole of Hood's army moving or only a 
 portion of it ?" 
 
 " I heerd dey was all amovin'." 
 " Think I'll take this fellow in," said Fred. 
 " Drive this way a bit, uncle, and I'll go with you. 
 Perhaps the captain would like to ask a few questions." 
 " All, right, marse, I'll do all I kin, de Lawd knows. 
 I dunno much, but I'll tell de cap'n dat sho. Git along 
 dar, you mule ; git along dar, git !" shouted the darkey 
 to his mule as Fred got into the wagon, which soon 
 disappeared in the darkness, down the road toward 
 camp. 
 
 Shortly after Fred returned to his post, and, with his 
 welcome presence, brought the information that our 
 wagon trains had already begun to leave Pulaski, were 
 on the road to Columbia, and that we would probably 
 shake the mud of that place from our feet before long. 
 
 A little after daylight next morning we were called 
 in, to find that orders had been given for the entire 
 force to fall back to Lynnville, a little place, about half 
 way between Pulaski and Columbia. Here we were 
 joined by Wagner's Division of the Fourth Corps, and
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 203 
 
 with them intrenched ourselves in positions covering 
 the road leading from Lawrenceburg. We remained at 
 this point two or three days, and it was while we were here 
 that Black Lige disappeared. Captain Hartees seemed 
 to take the matter philosophically enough, and said that 
 he would see him again before long ; that his wife and 
 children lived not far from Columbia. 
 
 On the night of the 23d we left our intrenchments 
 and fell back to Hurricane, which is ten miles farther 
 north, and toward Columbia. 
 
 Jake, who was one of the first to get the news of this 
 movement, came up to the fire, where a little group of 
 us were making preparations for breakfast, and said : 
 
 " We 've got to move again, boys. I tell you what, 
 we ain't got nothing to say about Hood not being 
 smart. He 's turning the tables on us with a vengeance. 
 We don't no sooner get settled in a place than we have 
 to get. Just the same as Johnston did before Sher- 
 man." 
 
 " Where are we going now ?" I asked, as soon as I 
 could get a word in. 
 
 "To Hurricane. Hood's a chasin' us up mighty 
 sharp, you bet. He 's a-getting over the roads after us 
 about as fast as we can get out of his way. If we keep 
 on at this rate we '11 see Nashville soon, I 'm thinking." 
 
 " Yes ; but we 're not going to see it without first 
 having a fight that 11 be a bad one for Hood," inter- 
 rupted Kimball, as he calmly blew the ashes off a 
 roasted potato, which he very mysteriously produced 
 from the hot ashes near the edge of the fire. 
 
 " Fight !" repeated Jake, abstractedly, as his eye 
 fastened on the potato. " Fight ! Where 'd you get 
 that potato ?" 
 
 Here everybody laughed at the sudden change in 
 Jake's manner from a grumbling tone of voice to that
 
 204 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 of a person intensely interested in something to eat. 
 But he recovered quickly, and resumed : 
 
 " If we are ever going to do any more fighting, it 's 
 about time we were at it. It 's mighty discouraging 
 this weather, not enough to eat, and a running away 
 from a lot of graybacks, that haven't known in a long 
 time what it was to win a fight. No wonder we haven't 
 seen the sun since the day we left Pulaski. I 'm dogged 
 if I don't believe he 's ashamed to shine on us for sneak- 
 ing away from the enemy all the time." 
 
 " Keep cool, Jake ; keep cool, my boy," replied Kim- 
 ball, breaking the roasted potato in half, and handing 
 one of the pieces to his grumbling comrade. 
 
 " ' Nebber min* de wedder so de win' don' blow; 
 Don' yer bodder 'bout yer trouble till it comes.' 
 
 " We '11 get all the fighting we want before we reach 
 Nashville, don't you worry."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 We started early in the afternoon for Hurricane, 
 which we reached late that night. A little before day- 
 break, on the following morning, we were aroused by 
 musketry firing, west of us and immediately were in 
 rapid motion toward it. After marching a little more 
 than two miles through the woods, we came in fall 
 view of an engagement between Forrest's cavalry and 
 a part of Stanley's command. 
 
 " It 's a cavalry fight," said Jake ; " and we ain't here 
 any too quick for 'em either. Our boys are backing 
 out. See !" 
 
 We had hardly discovered this fact when we heard 
 firing from the right of our own line. Simultaneously 
 came the order : 
 
 " Column, front into line !" 
 
 " Now Mr. Johnnie, look out," said Kimball. 
 
 " Fix bayonets !" 
 
 " That 's business," said Jake, as the click and clatter 
 which immediately followed this order, ran up and 
 down the line. " If we can't make Johnnie Reb skee- 
 dadle, this time, we 'd better go home." 
 
 " Forward, double quick, march !" 
 
 There were no laggards at that command ; every 
 man was in his place, all anxious to make the most of 
 
 [205]
 
 206 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 an opportunity to drive the enemy back. After reach- 
 ing easy range, came the command : 
 
 " Halt ! Load and fire at will ! Load !" 
 
 " Now then !" said vFred, as he tore away the flap of 
 a cartridge with his teeth. " We '11 show 'em what 's 
 what !" 
 
 By this time a rapidly increasing fire, from the whole 
 length of our line, was being poured into the ranks of 
 the enemy ; who, dismayed and bewildered at the 
 sudden appearance of a force they evidently had not 
 counted on, speedily fell back in great confusion. The 
 punishment inflicted being so severe that they did not 
 again trouble us. 
 
 Later we fell back to Columbia, where we threw up 
 breastworks and otherwise strongly intrenched our- 
 selves south of the town. 
 
 Most of us were heartily sick of Hood's flank move- 
 ments. To make ready for an enemy and then not 
 have him do as you want him to is vexatious enough 
 when it occurs only once in a while ; but when it hap- 
 pens right along, without any change whatever, 
 the life of a soldier becomes monotonous in the ex- 
 treme. 
 
 We were all anxious to bring matters to a crisis ; to 
 force a condition of things where our position would, 
 in a measure, balance Hood's greater numerical strength 
 ' and where he would be compelled to fight. The work 
 we had just completed at this place seemed to me all 
 that could be desired for this purpose, and I suggested 
 the probability of meeting the enemy and having our 
 trial with him here. 
 
 " You wait !" responded Jake. " Wait till Hood comes 
 up with his force and sees what we 've been doing. 
 There 's nothing to prevent him from flanking us here, 
 same as he 's done in other places. We '11 have to get
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 out here in a hurry before long-, I 'm thinking ; then all 
 this dirt digging goes for nothing." 
 
 " Well," said Fred in reply, " we can't help it, if we 
 do have to get out. I hope, though, we '11 reach a 
 place before long where we can give Hood a warming. 
 He 's stronger than we, to be sure, and 't would be fool- 
 ish enough to try and break him up until we have 
 Thomas's army to help us. We can punish him badly, 
 though, if we are well intrenched and he ever gives us 
 the chance." . 
 
 Jake gave a grunt of disapproval and turned away. 
 He did not " take stock " in Hood's ever giving us that 
 chance ; but Kimball did and quickly responded : 
 
 " He '11 give us all the chance we want, sure 's my 
 name 's Kimball, and that, too, before we reach Thomas. 
 He won't content himself by doing as Sherman did. 
 He '11 try and do better be smarter, like." 
 
 Our well-defended front kept the enemy quiet for a 
 long time ; but on the night of the 25th there were 
 whisperings of a flank movement. Shortly after, in 
 company with another brigade we left our intrench- 
 ments and marched through Columbia to Duck River, 
 which we crossed on the pontoons. 
 
 The stream at this place describes a sharp curve, and ' 
 the point upon which we were halted and expected to 
 defend, if need be, was partly surrounded by the frown- 
 ing bluffs on the Columbia side. The next morning we 
 were again called up to handle the pick and shovel. 
 
 Breastworks were thrown up a little way from the 
 river bank, but the position was one of the worst that 
 could have been selected. Do what we might, there 
 was absolutely no protection for us. We were on noth- 
 ing like an even footing with the enemy. 
 
 I never had found a great deal of fault with places 
 that had heretofore been selected as best suited for
 
 208 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 defense, because, for one good reason, I did not, for a 
 long time, know much about these things ; and, sec- 
 ondly, I was never much of a faultfinder on any occa- 
 sion ; but I could not help ventilating my opinion as to 
 this position. 
 
 I had learned something in my past six months of 
 active army life something of movements and defensi- 
 ble positions, and was thereby enabled to talk under- 
 standingly at this time and on this particular subject. 
 A man, without, any special knowledge of such matters, 
 could have seen, at a glance, the position we then occu- 
 pied could not be held. In reply to what I had to say 
 on the subject, Fred said : 
 
 " It 's a fact, Dan, it 's not much of a place for 
 intrenchments ; and, for the life of me, I can't see the 
 use of wasting labor here when we might do better 
 farther on. Orders are orders, though ; and whether 
 they 're for good or for bad, we 've got to obey them." 
 
 " I reckon Hood '11 make mincemeat of us if he catches 
 us in this fix," remarked Jake, who had been listening 
 to our conversation. "Just see what a chance for a 
 cross-fire of artillery," pointing to the hight bluff on the 
 other side of the river. " Why, they can just toss per- 
 cussion shell on to our heads if they want to, and we 
 can't help ourselves. Just after breakfast I heard that 
 the whole of our army was going to leave the works on 
 the other side to-night, and come over here." 
 
 " What else can they do ?" responded Fred. " They 
 can't hold out against Hood's whole army." 
 
 " No," I don't expect they can," answered Jake. 
 " Neither do I expect Hood's army is going to give 'em 
 much of a chance, if they wanted to fight ever so bad. 
 I '11 tell you what, boys. I 'm getting sick of this. I 'd 
 a heap rather fight than dig dirt." 
 
 " Well, Jake, you '11 soon have a chance," said Kim-
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 209 
 
 ball, " they 're having a little skirmish now, along the 
 line, outside the town. Don't you hear them ? That 
 sounds as if Hood was drawing in on our front, 
 don't it ?" 
 
 " Yes, I hear 'em," said Jake, as he rested his foot on 
 his spade, a moment, " but that don't signify anything. 
 He 's just thrown out a few skirmishers to hold our 
 attention while the balance of his army is working 
 around in our rear. I 'm afraid it 's only another 
 signal for us to fall back again." 
 
 " Well, I don't care if it is," said Fred. " This is a 
 little the worst place for a stand that I ever got into." 
 Every one echoed this sentiment, but, as usual, we kept 
 at our work until it was finished. 
 
 Late that night, I awoke shivering with the cold, 
 and had to get up and move around to warm myself, 
 for we dare not have any fires now. The river and the 
 high bank on the opposite side were shrouded in gloom. 
 I could see nothing in this inky blackness, but on one 
 side, I could hear the tramp, tramp, tramp of infantry, 
 crossing the railroad bridge, and on the other side, the 
 scuffle of many feet on the pontoons. 
 
 As I stood listening to the various sounds of the 
 night, I heard a familiar voice singing, softly 
 
 " I '11 be dar, 
 
 I '11 be dar, 
 
 Wen dejudgmen' roll is call, 
 
 I '11 be dar." 
 
 " Ho, Lige !" I called. " Is that you ?" 
 " Yes, Maws Dan." 
 " Where Ve you been ?" 
 " Been home ter see my wife." 
 " See her ?" 
 
 "Yes. She 's dar still. Hed a powerful good time, 
 Maws Dan ! Powerful good time !"
 
 210 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Where 's Hood ?" 
 
 " He 's a gwine ter work around in our raar. Gwine 
 ter cross de ribber above here a piece and git in 'tween 
 us an' Nashville. Here, Maws Dan, take dis ! Dinah 
 bake dat dis mawnin'." 
 
 I held out my hand in the darkness and received a 
 spongy substance, which proved to be a most delicious 
 corn pone. 
 
 "They 've got us in a box here, Lige !" I said ; but 
 he was gone, and I heard him, as he vanished in the 
 darkness, singing, as usual, to himself : 
 
 " Nebber min' de wedder so de win' don' blow." 
 
 There was a peculiar philosophy for me in that song, 
 and, as I ate my corn pone before going to sleep, I 
 determined not to bother about trouble until it came. 
 
 In the gray of the early morning, while moving 
 farther down the stream, we discovered that the whole 
 of our little army had crossed the river in the night 
 and that the bridges, over which they had passed, had 
 disappeared. 
 
 We reached our new position and had intrenched 
 ourselves in it by sunrise. The sky was dark and 
 cloudy, and the deep shadows of night still lingered in 
 the chill mists that clung to the trees on both sides of 
 the river. Fred and I stood on the edge of the bank, 
 gazing up and down the stream ; everything was so 
 quiet on the opposite side that we had no thought of 
 danger here. Just at this moment, however, Captain 
 Hartees, who had come up, unobserved, behind us, 
 shouted : 
 
 " Look out, boys down !" 
 
 We three dropped to earth, instantly ; and almost at 
 the same instant two reports from the thick woods 
 above us, on the other side, followed by the " zip, zip " of
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 211 
 
 two bullets passing harmlessly over our heads, ex- 
 plained the importance of the caution. 
 
 " Close rub that, cap'n," said Fred. 
 
 " Got to keep your eyes open sharp," replied Hartees, 
 as he arose and quickly disappeared through the woods 
 in our rear. 
 
 " Queer," said Fred, as he turned and looked after 
 the captain, " queer ; that man 's always around when 
 we 're in danger. Come, we can't follow his advice any 
 too quickly ; let 's get out of this. There 's another." 
 A flash, a little puff of smoke, a report, and another 
 whistling evidence that the enemy were watching hur- 
 ried us back to the shelter of our rifle pits, where we 
 were content to await further developments. 
 
 Later in the forenoon a succession of brighter flashes, 
 from the woods skirting the edge of the bluff, followed 
 by clouds of smoke, the roar of cannon and the shrill 
 piping shell, announced that the enemy had his artillery 
 in position and was disposed to use it. Still later, our 
 own artillery behind us, replied to the enemy's fire, and 
 kept it up at intervals throughout the day. 
 
 It was an artillery duel, with a stream of water 
 separating the combatants ; but with the exception of 
 making a deafening roar, neither side enjoyed any 
 peculiar advantage over the other: 
 
 Late in the afternoon, during a lull in the firing, 
 some one shouted : 
 
 " Look, the Johnnies are coming out of the woods ! 
 They are running down the bank and are going to 
 cross." 
 
 " Fact !" said Fred, peering through the bushes in 
 front of us. " And they 're bringing their pontoons 
 with them." 
 
 " How many are there ?" I asked. 
 
 " Perhaps two or three regiments," answered Fred.
 
 212 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " May be there are more. Look out ! There goes the 
 artillery again, to cover 'em. Let 'em fire if they want 
 to ; it won't do 'em any good." 
 
 " What 's the matter with our own batteries ?" I 
 asked, noting that the firing was all from one side. 
 
 " Oh they '11 get 'round to it later but what 's that 
 going on there over on the other side ?" 
 
 " Why, what do you see ?" 
 
 " I don't know as I see anything now, but I thought 
 I saw a a yes and by Jove I did see it too ;" said 
 Fred, excitedly pulling back the hammer to his rifle 
 which he raised to a level with the earth in front of us. 
 " See there, will you, over there by that little open 
 space in the woods, and on a line with that chimney 
 above ; see 'em, the Johnnies, they 're coming down the 
 hill, and, as sure 's you live, they 're going to cross. 
 Now 's our time, Dan, let 's put in some good work, 
 my boy, while we have a chance. There 's one of 'em 
 now. Just keep your eye on that fellow in the lead ; 
 the one with the pole on his shoulder, I mean." 
 
 Looking in the direction indicated, I saw, among a lot 
 of stalwart fellows coming down the hill and struggling 
 through the thick underbrush, which at that point 
 reached the water's edge, the head and shoulders of a 
 man, made more conspicuous than his comrades by a 
 stout pole he carried on his shoulder. While watching, 
 I heard the crack of my companion's rifle, and instantly 
 saw this man stumble and fall. 
 
 " How was that, Dan ? Did I hit him ?" 
 
 " Think you did," I replied ; " he fell over as soon as 
 you fired, and those who were with him disappeared at 
 the same time." 
 
 We '11 just lay for those fellows, now, and give 'em a 
 warming. They will break cover directly, and we '11 
 have a good whack at 'em before they get away."
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 213 
 
 Presently the enemy appeared near the water's edge 
 with their pontoons, which were quickly launched, 
 loaded, pushed off and started in an oblique line for our 
 side of the river. Fred and I fired again and again, but 
 with what effect we could not see, the enemy working 
 hurriedly, paying no regard to us. 
 
 " Well," said Fred, speculatively, as he eyed the cross- 
 ing boats, " they 're not going to land here, at all events. 
 They '11 bring up somewhere below us, I 'm thinking." 
 
 I confessed I was not sorry ; for, with our scattered 
 line in the pits, we could not hold out against any body 
 of men. It was true there was not more than a 
 brigade of the enemy, at most ; but they were to- 
 gether. 
 
 The boats soon passed from sight, under cover of the 
 bank, and it was not until toward dusk that we heard 
 anything more of them. Then a rapid succession of 
 shots gave signal for "the rebel yell," which was 
 answered by loud shouts from the heights on the oppo- 
 site side, supplemented, in turn, by a roar of artillery 
 and small arms. 
 
 *' That 's business," said Fred, " and if there were 
 more of them it might be just as well for us if we got 
 out of this ; but they can't spread, they '11 lose their 
 grip if they do." 
 
 " Sounds as if our skirmishers were on the run." 
 
 " Of course they are. They '11 fall back until they 
 reach the main line, and then, Mister Johnnie, look 
 out." 
 
 At this moment the enemy's battery ceased firing, 
 and we could hear our men contesting every inch of 
 the way in their retreat. Later, the tone of the shout- 
 ing was changed, and we heard the welcome shouts of 
 the reinforced skirmishers, who were now returning 
 and driving the Confederates before them.
 
 214 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 As the noise of the conflict drew nearer, some of the 
 boys began to leave their pits, when Hartees shouted : 
 
 " Down, every mother's son of you ! Don't let a man 
 leave his post until he gets orders !" 
 
 " That 's the thing to do always," said Fred. " Better 
 be in the reserve all day and stay there until you 're 
 wanted, than rush into a fight when you 're not needed. 
 Rosseau 's got all the help he wants to run the Johnnies 
 into the river." 
 
 More and more distinct became the tramp of feet ; 
 louder and nearer grew the rattle of musketry, as 
 pursuers and pursued approached the bank of the 
 river. Finally the tramping ceased, and a line of 
 flashes from the rifles of our troops seemed to say : 
 
 " The enemy have reached the water and we 're do- 
 ing our level best to drive them into it." 
 
 Almost immediately the artillery from the other side 
 again opened on us, and we were compelled to lie low 
 and keep out of the way. This time, too, our guns re- 
 sponded to the fire and, I fancied, with rather more 
 spirit than before. 
 
 It is tedious business to be compelled to fold your 
 hands and submit to inactivity in a rifle pit, but there 's 
 no help for it when a battery, stationed a short distance 
 in your rear, is keeping up an incessant firing over your 
 heads. The roar of cannon, the scream and hiss and 
 shriek of flying lead and iron, the uncontrollable feeling 
 of dread and doubt, .intensified by every bursting shell, 
 maddens and keeps the nerves strained to their utmost. 
 But we had no choice in the matter, and there we lay, 
 smoked our pipes and listened and shivered and waited. 
 
 After a while our fire slackened considerably and 
 finally ceased altogether. Still later we heard a few 
 orders given, which were quickly followed by the move- 
 ments of "limbering up," then the familiar cluck of
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 215 
 
 gun- carriage wheels, growing fainter and fainter as the 
 battery moved away. 
 
 " Thank heaven, they 're gone !" said Fred, a few 
 moments after their departure. " I 'm tired of artillery 
 fighting, and don't want to hear any more of it in a 
 hurry. There 's always so much bluster and smoke and 
 bellowing about it. It 's all well enough to be backed 
 up by a battery or to know you can have one when you 
 want it, but it 's a mighty noisy helper." 
 
 " Nothing like it for shrapnel or for grape or canister, 
 just when the enemy are bearing down on you a little 
 too hard, eh ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; artillery's a mighty good thing then, but 
 too noisy for steady work at short range. Great Scott, 
 how my head aches ! Fit to burst, and my ears fairly 
 ring with the infernal noise they made. Well, they 're 
 gone and we can straighten up once more. But we 've 
 got to keep our eyes open. I wonder what 's going on 
 in the rear ?" 
 
 Looking in that direction I saw, in the fading light, 
 the shadowy forms of orderlies flitting to and fro among 
 the trees. 
 
 " What 's up ?" asked Fred. 
 
 " Looks as if we were getting ready to move again," 
 I replied. " Do you think we are ?" 
 
 " Hard to tell. There 's Jake, just coming out of 
 the woods and crawling toward his pit. Hail him and 
 see what he has to say about it." 
 
 "Ho, Jake!" I cried. "What's the matter back 
 there ?" 
 
 " Matter enough," responded Jake. " Forrest's cav- 
 alry has crossed the river below us, and they 're to 
 swing around on our flank so as to strike our left and 
 rear." 
 
 " Where 's Hood ?"
 
 216 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Crossed the river farther up, and is coming down 
 the other way." 
 
 " What have we got to do ?" 
 
 ' Stay where we are.- The entire force, with the ex- 
 ception of the Twelfth and Sixteenth Kentucky, are 
 going to fall back to Franklin." 
 
 " What are we to be left behind for ?" 
 
 " We Ve got to do skirmish duty until midnight, then 
 we '11 git too. By that time, though, Hood '11 be be- 
 tween us and Franklin, and we '11 not only have to frog 
 it ten or fifteen miles, but we '11 also have to do some 
 mighty sharp work, I 'm thinking, to git by the rebs 
 without being seen. They 11 gobble us, sure 's you 
 live, if they only catch sight of us. It 's always the 
 way. Whenever there's any dirty work to do the 
 Twelfth and Sixteenth have got to do it." 
 
 " Our forces start soon, then ?" 
 
 " Start ? They Ve already started. There 's going to 
 be some awful close work in the next forty-eight 
 hours," muttered Jake to himself, as he turned and 
 crawled back his post. 
 
 " Gad, Dan !" said Fred. " This is a bad business 
 a mighty bad business, whether it 's orders or not ! 
 This gives us no chance at all, and leaves us completely 
 at the mercy of the enemy. We 're only a handful of 
 men, at best, and we 've been left here to be takei? 
 prisoners, to be slaughtered or anything else, so long 
 as an appearance is kept up that our whole force has 
 not stepped out." 
 
 " It seems as if it wouldn't have been any more than 
 fair to have put some one else down for this work," 
 said I. " Hardly the right thing to make two regiments 
 do this kind of work all the time." 
 
 " That 's just what 's the matter," assented Fred, his 
 face suddenly assuming a thoughtful expression. Then
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 217 
 
 rousing himself, he asked, in a voice which had not a 
 trace of discouragement in it : 
 
 " What have you got to eat ?" 
 
 " Only half a dozen hard tack. Why ?" 
 
 " Nothing much. Only that 's six more than I Ve 
 got, and it seems to me that it 's about time that we 
 were eating something. I 'm as hungry as a wolf, and 
 have only a small piece of bacon." 
 
 " No pork ?" 
 
 " No. Pork 's been a mighty scarce article lately. 
 What with Forrest's Cavalry flying here and there all 
 the time, being always on the move ourselves, and the 
 bad roads, it 's a wonder to me that we get anything 
 to eat." 
 
 " Trot out your bacon then, if that 's all you Ve got, 
 and we '11 divide ! Here 's three hard tack for you !" 
 
 " Hark !" interrupted Fred, suddenly, standing up 
 and assuming a listening attitude. " What 's that ? 
 Skirmishers to the rear ? Hello there, sergeant, what 's 
 the matter now ?" 
 
 " Orders to leave here," replied the sergeant, hur- 
 riedly. " Got to take position farther down the river 
 just beyond the bend. Better get over there lively ; 
 the rest of the boys have started." 
 
 " Here 's some of our boys now," said Fred. " Let 's 
 go along with them. Here is Jake and Kimball and 
 Taylor" 
 
 " Well, Fred, they 're bound to do us up this time, 
 sure," said Jake, not giving Fred an opportunity to fin- 
 ish his sentence. " This is what I call rough to make 
 a fellow leave trenches like these for a place where, I '11 
 bet, there ain't no cover at all." 
 
 " Rough or not, we 've got to make the best of it," 
 replied Fred. " It 's all in ' three years or during the 
 war.' What 's troubling me now, more than anything
 
 218 
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 else, is something to eat." Then to me : " We 11 have 
 /to postpone our supper until later, Dan ; guess we 
 might as well divide those hard tack now, and the bacon 
 when we stop. Come !" 
 
 Leaving our narrow quarters, we followed on after 
 our comrades. Almost perfect silence was observed 
 during the half hour we were changing positions. Only 
 the muffled tramp of feet, the cracking of twigs or the 
 rustling of leaves gave any indication of our movement.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 I had no desire to talk, for my mind was filled with 
 the gloomiest forebodings. We were only a handful 
 of men, and I had no doubt that Hood's army was at 
 that moment cutting off all hope of retreat to Franklin. 
 
 A little beyond the bend we found men, belonging to 
 other companies, stationed at regular intervals along 
 the bank, and, just as Jake predicted, where there was 
 little or no protection from the enemy's fire, in case 
 they should open on us. 
 
 Fred and I were assigned to one post and, after the 
 sergeant with the rest of the company had left us, we 
 endeavored in the darkness to take in our new position. 
 As near as we could make out, we were near a ford. 
 Directly in front of us were two small trees standing 
 close together. A little beyond this, we heard the 
 river with its whirling and plashing current of black 
 waters. The night air was heavy with moisture, which 
 hung over us like a pall, and made the darkness, 
 shrouding both sides of the river, more intense, more 
 impenetrable. 
 
 We immediately set to work with our bayonets and 
 hands, and soon had piled the earth high enough, be- 
 tween the two trees, to make a comparatively safe 
 shelter for ourselves. The enemy's picket, which lined 
 
 [219]
 
 220 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 the opposite side of the river, at this point, seemed de- 
 termined to make our position as uncomfortable as 
 possible, and opened fire on us occasionally. This made 
 it necessary for us to lie flat on the earth most of the 
 time. 
 
 During the intervals of firing, with the exception of 
 some far-away echo or the sound of the stream as it 
 flowed lapsing and sucking by the banks or rippled 
 over the shallows at the ford, the silence, after the roar 
 of artillery through the day, was startling. After lying 
 in this position some moments I felt something touch me. 
 
 " What is it ?" I asked nervously. 
 
 " Bacon," answered the reassuring voice of Fred. 
 " It ain't much of a supper, Dan, but it 's all we 've got, 
 and we 'd better eat it now." 
 
 Neither of us had a drop of water in our canteens, 
 and we were both chilled to the marrow ; but I cannot 
 remember when I ever enjoyed a meal more thoroughly 
 than I did my share of the last six crackers and an 
 equal part of Fred's bacon. 
 
 For fully a quarter of an hour the solemn stillness 
 reigned. Then suddenly, as if in obedience to a given 
 signal, a line of fire blazed out from the woods on the 
 opposite bank, and the whistle and zip of a shower of 
 bullets struck among the leaves around us or flew harm- 
 lessly over our heads. 
 
 Word was quietly passed from post to post along the 
 line that our safety depended on silence and hugging 
 the earth as closely as possible. We made ourselves as 
 comfortable as we could, and listened to a sound, like 
 the noise made by an army crossing a pontoon bridge, 
 somewhere below us. 
 
 " Our line can't be a very long one," I said. " The 
 enemy don't seem to have any opposition in crossing." 
 
 " Sound travels a good bit on the water. Then our
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 221 
 
 heads are close to the earth, and we can hear a noise 
 like that made below a long way off." 
 
 " This sort of thing can't last long," said I. " Hood 
 is close upon us, and it seems to me he 's going to force 
 a fight soon." 
 
 " That 's what he 's after, you may depend. Well, 
 some of our boys have been aching for a fight for a 
 long time. As if one fight would settle anything !" 
 
 " There 's one thing we 've learned, and that is to 
 appreciate the feelings of Johnston's army when it was 
 being pressed by Sherman. It isn't the fight the boys 
 want so much as it is to be doing something. Action 
 is better than freezing." 
 
 " I.'d rather get warm some other way. There they 
 go again !" 
 
 Once more the enemy opened fire upon us ; this time 
 a little heavier than usual. Almost simultaneously a 
 voice on my right cried out in agony : 
 
 "Oh! Oh! Oh!" 
 
 " God !" said Fred. " Who 's that ?" 
 
 " Oh, help !" 
 
 " Careful !" said Fred, loud enough to be heard by the 
 wounded man. " Don't let 'em hear you on the other 
 side. They '11 fire again if they do." 
 
 " Oh I can't help it ! Oh! Oh! Help me! 
 Help !" 
 
 " I can't stand this," I said to Fred, and started to 
 relieve the sufferer ; but Fred pulled me back, saying : 
 
 " Be careful, Dan, you can't do him any good, and the 
 rebs will fire again as soon as they hear him." 
 
 " I don't care if they do. I 'm " 
 
 " H-e 1-p !" shrieked the poor unfortunate, with all 
 the strength at his command. 
 
 As this cry of distress echoed up and down the river, 
 another blaze from the enemy's rifles, and another
 
 222 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 shower of bullets whistled through the air uncomfort- 
 ably near us. One of these missiles struck the tree 
 nearest us and burst. 
 
 " My God !" exclaimed Fred, who had observed this 
 fact. " They 're firing explosive bullets at us. There 's 
 no help for a fellow if he ever gets hit with one of those 
 things." 
 
 An instant of silence and another agonized voice cried 
 out : 
 
 " Come here, somebody, quick !" 
 
 " Who 's that ?" I asked of Fred, thinking I knew the 
 voice. 
 
 " Oh, hurry, some one quick ! For God's sake, help 
 me, quick ! I can't do anything alone. Jake ! Fred ! 
 Dan !" 
 
 "Yes," said Fred, who had located the voice, and was 
 now, regardless of his caution to me, moving quickly 
 toward the spot whence it came. I also started, but 
 in the other direction, to aid the first comrade who 
 called. I found him only a short distance away. He 
 was lying on his side, dead. I felt of his face ; it was 
 beardless, and covered with a cold sweat. I could not 
 tell, in the pitchy darkness, who he was, and I crawled 
 back to my post, where I was soon joined by my com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Who was it, Fred ?" I asked. 
 
 " It was was ah, how can I say it ! How can I 
 believe that he is dead !" 
 
 Then, after a pause, he continued : 
 
 " It was Kimball, poor fellow. He was shot in the 
 shoulder, and, when I got there, was trying to prevent 
 himself from bleeding to death. He had pulled up the 
 cape of his overcoat, and was trying to press it into the 
 wound. He told me what he had done, and that his 
 entire shoulder seemed to have been shattered by an
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 223 
 
 explosive bullet. I took out my big red handkerchief 
 to help him, but 't was no use ; before I could think of 
 what I ought to do, he said : ' Give me some water, Fred,' 
 and fell over dead." 
 
 " He is the first of our mess to go," I said. 
 
 " Yes ; we 've been together a long time, Dan, and 
 to think this is the end. Kimball was a brave soldier, 
 Dan ; he never shirked his duty. Many a time, when 
 he 's been as much used up as any of us, he has helped 
 you and me and others over hard places. Then, he was 
 always ready to divide rations with his comrades. Poor 
 Kimball ! God help us all ! Common bullets are bad 
 enough, but these infernal machines they 're only fit 
 to be used by cowards and assassins." 
 
 " It 's too bad !" I said. " The other one on the right 
 is also dead." 
 
 " Did you go to him ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Who was he ?" 
 
 " I don't know. No one I could think of in our com- 
 pany. This has been a bad night for us, so far. I 
 wonder how much longer they intend to keep us here ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know what to think ! If you 'd been 
 over there with Kimball when he was hopelessly strug- 
 gling for his life and been made to feel as I did, that 
 only a few minutes were left in which to do anything, 
 and then to know you were powerless and unable to 
 save him, you would feel as dazed as I do. I 've left 
 many a good man behind me in a charge and, in the 
 excitement of the moment, thought nothing of it ; at 
 least, it never made the impression on me this has. 
 There is only one thought uppermost in my mind, and 
 that 's Kimball. I wish we were out of this. In all 
 the time I 've been in the service, I never felt as I do 
 now."
 
 224 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Oh, pshaw !" I said, trying to make light of Fred's 
 melancholy mood. " There 's no use getting blue over 
 what can't be helped. .You 're only cold and nervous." 
 
 "I feel as if something were going to happen." Then, 
 as if he had suddenly realized he was getting to be a 
 trifle childish, he added : " This day's work has been 
 too much for me. Look out, there they go again !" 
 
 Once more the rifles of the enemy flash out in the 
 darkness on the opposite bank, and this time a shower 
 of bullets whistled harmlessly over our heads. After 
 an instant of silence, the clear ringing voice of 
 Hartees, echoed up and down the river : 
 ^"At-ten-tion!" 
 
 Absolute silence was preserved along the line, on 
 both sides. It seemed as if the river had ceased to 
 flow ; that the leaves had stopped their rustling ; that 
 even the winds, with bated breath, had paused for what 
 might follow. Again the commanding voice of our 
 captain pierced the chilly night air : 
 
 "Men," he said, "if another shot is fired from the 
 other side to-night, open every gun on them." 
 
 " That ought to fix them," said Fred, in a low tone. 
 
 Fix them it did, for they had not forgotten the shell- 
 ing of the afternoon, and must have been in doubt 
 whether our artillery was still before them or not. 
 However that may have been, the picket on the other 
 side did no more shooting that night. 
 
 An hour later I took Fred's canteen and my own and 
 crept out from behind our shelter, toward the river 
 bank, where I dropped silently down. There, on hands 
 and knees, through mud and ooze, to the water's edge, 
 I felt my way, filled both canteens, and returned to my 
 post. 
 
 Once I heard the breaking of a twig, not far from 
 me ; then came a hurried rustle of leaves, quickly fol-
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 225 
 
 lowed by a furtive intermittent noise, as of an animal 
 moving through the woods. " It is the wind," thought I, 
 " or, perchance, some of my comrades who, like myself, 
 have been to the river for water." 
 " Whatever it was that occasioned the noise, nothing 
 further occurred until midnight, when I heard a slight 
 movement in our rear, as if some one' was cautiously 
 approaching. I listened intently, and fixed my eyes in 
 the direction from which the noise came. The dark- 
 ness was impenetrable. I could discern nothing. 
 
 Suddenly a sound, as of a musket-stock striking a 
 stone or stump, and then : 
 
 " Who goes there ?" from Fred, in a quick, low tone. 
 
 " Co'p'l o' the guard," came a suppressed reply. 
 
 " Oh, it 's you, Dick, is it ? What 's up ?" 
 
 " Goin' to git out o' this at once. Goin' to fall back 
 to Franklin. Fall in on the Pike 's the orders." 
 
 ." Thank God for that ! Did you know Kimball was 
 gone ?" 
 
 " What ? Dead ?" 
 
 " Dead." 
 
 " That 's bad. Where is he ?" 
 
 " Next post. Can't a few of us bury him ?" 
 
 " No ; we 've got no time to do that. It 's mighty 
 hard to leave him to be stripped by the rebs, but there 's 
 no help for it now. Did he have any valuables with 
 him a watch or anything ?" 
 
 " I know he had a watch, but I didn't have the heart 
 to look for it or for anything else ?" 
 
 " His friends would like 'em, mebbe. Where does he 
 lay ?" 
 
 " About a dozen rods, in a straight line, below us." 
 
 " I '11 take a look. Hurry back to the road. We 've 
 got no time to lose. Rebs are already between us and 
 Franklin. Ought to have been out of this an hour ago."
 
 226 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 As the corporal hurried away we started for the road 
 from which we had been separated by a narrow belt of 
 woods. Here we groped and stumbled and fell, being 
 compelled at times to almost feel our way, the darkness 
 was so intense. Once Fred took hold of my arm and said : 
 
 " Stop a bit. Didn't somebody call me ?" 
 
 " No," I replied. 
 
 " Thought I heard my name." 
 
 ' Imagination," I said. 
 
 " Perhaps so, but somehow the sound of Kimball's 
 voice keeps ringing in my ears. I fancied I heard 
 some one calling for help." 
 
 " Come," I said, " let 's get out of this. We Ve a long 
 tramp ahead of us, and but little time to do it in." 
 
 After pausing a moment or two longer, and satisfy- 
 ing himself that the sounds he heard were only the prod- 
 uct of his imaginings, Fred let go of my arm, saying, 
 as he did so : 
 
 " Well, we can do no good here." Then, with a sigh : 
 " I hate to leave a man like Kimball was lying there 
 like a dog. We may as well go, though." 
 
 Again we groped our way through the woods, Fred 
 occupied with his thoughts, I with mine, and neither of 
 us speaking. Just before reaching the road I kicked 
 along a small object which aroused my curiosity. 
 
 Stooping down, I picked up what proved to be a sol- 
 dier's cap. It was just what I wanted, for mine was 
 worn and old and the visor was twisted out of shape. 
 The cap I had just found was apparently new. I could 
 tell that by feeling the nap on the cloth. The visor 
 was also straight. 
 
 Passing my hand mechanically around the lining, my 
 fingers suddenly slipped through a ragged hole in front 
 and above the visor strap. The inside band was also 
 wet and stuck to my fingers.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 227 
 
 With a thrill of horror I dropped the cap, satisfied 
 that the owner had been shot through the head, and if 
 it were now day instead of night I should see him lying 
 dead within a few feet of me. As a full sense of the 
 picture filled me, I could not help the thought, " If a 
 soldier must yield his life for his country, better die a 
 swift death like that than die as Kimball did." 
 
 A few steps farther on I reached the road, but was 
 surprised to hear none of our men passing, nothing but 
 the far-off sound of footsteps hurrying on their way to 
 Franklin. Here I also discovered that my companion 
 was not with me. This startled me into a realizing 
 sense of my loneliness, and I waited and wondered. 
 Where was Fred ? 
 
 Had I loitered ? I was not conscious of it. Had 
 Fred retraced his steps ? He surely would not do that ? 
 He was with me just before I picked up the cap ; since 
 that time I had heard nothing of him ; there could be 
 only one reasonable solution to my perplexity. Fred 
 had passed me, joined those who had gone ahead, and 
 if I would overtake him I must follow him quickly. 
 This I did. 
 
 Once I fancied my name was spoken by some one. 
 I ran in the direction of the voice and shouted : " Fred ! 
 Fred !" but obtained no reply. There was no one to 
 answer me. Not even the sound of footsteps now. I 
 was alone. The deep silence which brooded over the 
 earth seemed ominous of evil. Should I go on or wait ? 
 
 I could travel this road alone, and perhaps remain 
 undiscovered as long as the night lasted. But what 
 would the daylight bring ? A night bird flapped his 
 wings above my head and uttered a cry of warning. 
 Fearful of further delay, I pressed forward. 
 
 A mile was passed without a sound other than my 
 own footsteps. What wonder was it that a deep-toned
 
 228 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 voice, speaking out in the darkness, almost at my side, 
 caused my heart to bound and set my pulses throbbing ? 
 
 " Say thar !" said the voice. " What 's yer hurry ?" 
 
 I stopped instantly. 
 
 " Hello ! Have yer seen any 'f ther Sixteenth Ken- 
 tucky ?" 
 
 " No," I replied, in a scarcely audible voice, though 
 with a feeling of relief that I had not met an enemy. 
 "Belong to the Twelfth myself." 
 
 " Glad ter know it, dogged 'f I ain't. Heerd yer 
 comin' 'nd thought p'rhaps 't was one 'f our crowd, so I 
 waited fer yer. Reckon 't ain't no use huntin' fer any 
 more 'f ther stragglers, such a night 's this." 
 
 " You 're right," I responded, glad to know I had met 
 one of my own brigade. " I left my partner back there 
 by the river an hour ago, and have been waiting and 
 hunting for him ever since, thinking he would turn up." 
 
 " P'rhaps he '11 turn up after awhile ; but I 'm thinkin' 
 yer '11 see ther rebs first. They 're thicker 'n bees in 
 swarmin' time 'tween us 'nd Franklin, 'nd 'f we don't 
 keep tergether 'nd hurry along right sharp we 11 git 
 snapped up, fer sure." 
 
 " Come on, then. I 'm with you." 
 
 " Thar 's whar yer right. Better a blamed sight look 
 out fer yerself ; yer partner '11 turn up all right at 
 Franklin." 
 
 " If we ever get there," I interrupted. 
 
 " Oh, we '11 git thar, 'f we only stick ter it long enough. 
 Say, pard, what 's yer name ?" 
 
 I told him. 
 
 " And what 's yours ?" I asked. 
 
 " Nicholas Searle. Ther boys call me Nick fer short. 
 I say, Dan, we 'd better double-quick it fer a while 'nd 
 see 'f we can't catch up with ther rest 'f ther boys. It 's 
 gittin' a little skeery 'round these parts, 'nd we '11 stand
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 229 
 
 a heap better show er gittin' through 'f we 're all ter- 
 gether." 
 
 " Double-quick it is, then," I responded. 
 
 After running and walking for half an hour or more, 
 I saw, a short distance in front of us, a small point of 
 light now glowing, now disappearing, as a firefly light. 
 I knew it could not be produced by an insect at this 
 season of the year ; and, becoming puzzled to explain 
 it to my own satisfaction, I took hold of Nick's arm and 
 stopped him. 
 
 " What 's ther matter ?" asked Nick. 
 
 " A light," I said. " See it ?" 
 
 " What ? Where ? I don't see no light." 
 
 " Wait a moment, and you '11 see it ; it 's only a small 
 speck of light, but it 's over there on the left." 
 
 At brief intervals the light appeared and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " See it ?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes," replied Nick, after a moment of hesitation, 
 "it 's some Johnnie smokin' ; 'nd yer kin bet yer shoes 
 they "re mighty thick 'round here ter be so car'less 's 
 that. We might 's well jog along ; they Ve heerd us 
 'fore this. Come on. I '11 do ther talkin'." 
 
 In a few moments we were hailed with : 
 
 " Halt ! Whar yer gwine ?" 
 
 " Lookin' fer ther boys," replied Nick. 
 
 " What regiment d' yer b'long ter ?" 
 
 " Georgy Tigers." 
 
 " Which-a-way 'd yer come ?" 
 
 " 'Long ther Pike Road, from Columby." 
 
 " Seen any 'f ther Yanks ?" 
 
 " No. Why ?" 
 
 "Thought mebbe yer mought 've seen some 'f 'em." 
 
 " Who be you uns ?" asked Nick. 
 
 "Twenty-ninth North Car 'liny."
 
 230 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Whar 's Hood all ?" 
 
 " Spring Hill, 'nd a right good jog ahead it is too." 
 
 "Wall,, here 's arter 'em," and Nick grasped me 
 nervously by the arm, saying as he did so, " come on 
 boys !" 
 
 " Hold on thar ! How many d' yer count ?" 
 
 " Lively Dan, lively my boy," whispered Nick, in- 
 creasing his speed, <l we Ve got to leg it ter git out er 
 this, 't won't do ter let 'em scratch a match on us. 
 Thought they was lettin' us off easy-like." 
 
 " Halt thar ! D' yer hear ?" demanded the voice. 
 
 "Quick, Dan," said Nick, "let 's leave ther road. 
 We '11 do better on ther side 'nd won't make so much 
 noise." 
 
 We scarce had time to reach the roadside when a 
 shot was fired after us. Another and yet another rifle 
 flared out in the darkness, but the bullets, while we 
 heard them whistle by, did us no harm. Our inquisitors 
 were evidently too tired to pursue us, for they con- 
 tented themselves with these three shots and we heard 
 nothing more of them. 
 
 We ran at full speed some distance and then slack- 
 ened our pace to a rapid walk. It seemed to me I 
 never was so tired, that the roads were never in a 
 worse condition, and that we would never overtake our 
 men.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Several times we heard firing ahead, but this only 
 stimulated us to greater exertion. We knew the im- 
 portance of making the most of our time and reaching 
 the main body of our detail while it was yet dark. At 
 last we found them walking, rapidly and silently, on the 
 right of the turpike. Nick was first to discover the 
 progress we had made, and encouraged us with : 
 
 " Here they are, Dan. Take it easy, now, my boy 
 We Ve got along so fur all right, thank God ! Hard 
 work, aint it ?" 
 
 " You 're right," I replied, when I had recovered from 
 the last run sufficiently to speak. " I couldn't have 
 gone any farther at that pace." 
 
 " Wall, I 'd about gi'n out myself ; but it 's a heap 
 better "n 'twas back thar at Columby, 'nd we 're 'n a heap 
 better condition ter whoop 'em up f er ther Johnnies, 'f 
 they trouble us. Say, comrade," speaking to one of the 
 party we had just overtaken, " what was that firm' 
 fer, a while ago ?" 
 
 " Skirmish, J reckon. Rebs is thick all around us, 
 and they 're thick on the other side of the Pike." 
 
 " Did yer have a hand in ther skirmish ?" 
 
 " No, ' twas way ahead o' us." 
 
 " Where are we ?" 
 
 " Don' know ! Some on em says we ain't far from 
 
 [231]
 
 232 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 Spring Hill ; though what they knows about it, I 'm 
 blamed 'f I know ! Some on 'em says, too, that ther 
 rebs are camped ahead 'f us on ther other side 'f ther 
 Pike 'nd that we '11 see their fires pretty quick !" 
 
 "Shouldn't be s'prised 'f we did!" responded Nick. 
 " 'Nd 'f we don't see more 'n fires we '11 be lucky ! It 's 
 goin' ter be a close rub ! Mighty close ! That 's what 's 
 ther matter !" 
 
 Here we halted, and it was with difficulty I could re- 
 sist the impulse to unroll my blanket and lie down to 
 sleep. As it was I sat down, stretched my weary limbs 
 and dozed until shaken into wakefulness by Nick, who 
 informed me word had been passed along the line that, 
 when started again, we must move together quickly 
 and noiselessly. Every man was to be alert and ready 
 for an attack at any moment. 
 
 There had been some speculation as to our where- 
 abouts and what our chances were of getting by the 
 enemy without being seen and reaching Franklin in 
 safety. Whatever the differences may have been as to 
 minor details, all were agreed on one point, and that 
 was, we were about half way between Columbia and 
 Franklin, and if our presence and strength were dis- 
 covered by the enemy we would be " gobbled." With 
 this comforting assurance we resume our march. 
 
 Ears are strained to catch the slightest sound of the 
 enemy. Eyes ache as we attempt, in vain, to pierce 
 the pitchy darkness which shuts us in. Hardly a word 
 is spoken. Matches are not lighted by smokers. Each 
 man feels that upon him rests the responsibility for the 
 safety of every other man. 
 
 We had not been on the road more than half an hour 
 when it seemed to me I heard a sound behind us as if 
 we were being pursued. Once I stopped an instant and 
 listened, but heard nothing.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 233 
 
 " What is it, Dan ?" asked Nick, noting the pause. 
 
 " Thought I heard the rebs after us, double quick." 
 
 " 'T wouldn't be no great s'prise 'f we did have a little 
 scrimmage 'fore we git out er this. Rebs is all around 
 us, 'nd " hesitatingly " there they are, sure 's you 're 
 born." 
 
 " Where ?" I asked, quickly, expecting to hear a volley 
 of musketry before a reply could be made. 
 
 " Jest over the hill yonder. See that light loomin' up 
 thar, ter the left ?" 
 
 I looked and plainly saw the hill outlined against the 
 red glow beyond. 
 
 " No doubt er them bein' rebs," said Nick ; " 'nd I 
 reckon they 're not more 'n half a mile away." 
 
 " Good thing for us they haven't tried to control the 
 road." 
 
 " Reckon they don't b'lieve there 's any need er 
 lookin' arter ther road. Ther rebs 's tired 's we be, 'nd 
 they "re not goin' ter bother their heads 'bout a few 
 stragglers ; 'nd that 's all there is of us, 'nd they know 
 it. Hark ! What was that ? Halt !" 
 
 Nick turned quickly, bringing his gun to a ready. 
 There was no mistake this time. We not only heard the 
 tramp of feet ; we also heard the rattle and click of 
 accouterments. 
 
 " Halt, thar, I say !" repeated Nick, in a louder tone, 
 as the party showed no disposition to stop. " T yer don't 
 stand whar yer be, we '11 blow yer ter pieces. Who be 
 yer ?" 
 
 " Stragglers from th' Sixteenth and Twelfth Ken- 
 tucky, from Columbia." 
 
 " Come on, then. Dogged 'f yer ain't hed ter leg it. 
 Seen any 'f ther rebs ?" 
 
 " Only a few pieces of artillery that passed a couple 
 of miles back,"
 
 234 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Which way 'd they go ?" 
 
 "Crossed the road and moved off to the left." 
 
 " Didn't see nobody else, no pickets, nor nothin' ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " That 's all right then, they won't bother us." 
 
 The newcomers proved to be three men from the 
 Sixteenth Kentucky and four men from the Twelfth 
 Kentucky, the latter belonging to Company C. They had 
 all been left behind in the hurry of departure, but no 
 one questioned them particularly, as a few moments 
 later we came in full view of the camp fires of large 
 bodies of troops. 
 
 It was suggested that Schofield was in bivouac there, 
 but there was no one who cared to investigate. The 
 camp was almost parallel with the turnpike for a long 
 distance, and we hurried by like phantoms. 
 
 Once we saw a body of horsemen passing between 
 us and the light, but they were going in an opposite 
 direction and quickly disappeared from view. Before 
 losing sight of the bivouac of our foes, we dimly saw 
 between it and us a force of some sort. Nearer to the 
 road, we pass a few of our men silently standing beside 
 a barricade of rails, evidently watching for some move- 
 ment in opposition to our own. 
 
 The darkness deepens and again becomes blackness ; 
 only the red gleams from a few of the distant fires 
 break it here and there in swaying rifts. Not a word 
 is spoken, while we are passing this point, though many 
 an anxious eye is turned in the direction of the rebel 
 camp. 
 
 All doubts as to whether we would get beyond reach 
 of the enemy without being discovered were settled a 
 few moments later by sharp firing in our rear. We 
 were soon overtaken by the party we had seen stand- 
 ing at the barricade of rails. From this squad we learn
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 235 
 
 that they had been fired upon by the enemy's skirmish 
 line. 
 
 " They '11 chase us up, see ' they don't," said Nick, 
 upon learning the fire had been returned. 
 
 " So long as they don't know how many there are of 
 us, we are just as good as a whole division would be," 
 said I. 
 
 " Yer right, Dan ; and it will make ther Johnnies er 
 little careful, arter we once get a crack at 'em. 'F we 
 only had er few big guns, 'twould be all ther better." 
 
 A few minutes later and another volley was heard 
 from the same direction. 
 
 " They won't get an answer this time ; ther coon ain't 
 thar," said Nick. 
 
 " No, but as you said, just now, they'll follow us up." 
 
 Weary and worn we pressed onward, now with sway- 
 ing step and half closed eyes, now breaking into a 
 double quick, now slowing down to a rapid walk, 
 every step bringing us nearer to Franklin, every man 
 carrying his gun ready for instant action. A short 
 interval passed, and then, within easy range, from our 
 left came a light volley of musketry, which did us no 
 harm. 
 
 Halting for a moment, we vigorously returned the 
 fire and then resumed our march. It soon became 
 apparent, from the method of attack, that the enemy 
 were not present in large numbers. Possibly it was 
 only a skirmish line or, perhaps, a small body of cav- 
 alry. Whatever it was, the force continued to harass 
 us at intervals. 
 
 Just before the day dawned, we saw the glowing 
 embers of a baggage-wagon that had been destroyed. 
 We gave this spot a wide berth. A little later and our 
 eyes penetrated farther into the darkness with which 
 we had been surrounded. A faint glow appeared in
 
 236 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 the east. Daylight came. The darkness broke and 
 dissolved. The mists rose from the earth like ragged 
 curtains. 
 
 In the morning light I saw the anxious, careworn faces 
 of the men around me soldiers bound together by the 
 feeling of sympathy and comradeship, the natural 
 accompaniment of a common danger and duty. 
 
 Close beside me was Nick tall, awkward, gaunt, with 
 a kindly, honest face and big gray eyes, which I found 
 were curiously turned toward me. 
 
 As the sun rose we reached the friendly shelter of 
 woods. Here we hurried along at a rapid pace. Our 
 safety now depended on our speed. Tired, hungry and 
 exhausted as we were, there was no time for halting, 
 and, if there had been, breakfast was impossible, for 
 there was nothing to eat. 
 
 Fifteen or twenty miles are nothing for strong, well- 
 fed soldiers, breaking camp in the freshness of the early 
 morning, but we were in no condition for it. We had 
 not slept for two nights, and our haversacks were 
 empty. 
 
 Many a time I was tempted to drop out of line and 
 rest. What odds if I were taken prisoner and carried 
 to Andersonville ? I might as well die there as any- 
 where. 
 
 Hour after hour slipped away. Mile after mile we 
 covered in this toilsome march, stimulated only to still 
 greater effort by occasional shots from the enemy. At 
 last the breastworks thrown up by Schofield's force on 
 the crest of the hill between us and Franklin came into 
 view. 
 
 A half -hour later we passed through the opening in 
 the works at the turnpike, where we were welcomed as 
 from the dead. The greeting was a cordial one, but it 
 was interrupted by Nick, who quietly said ;
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 237 
 
 " Dan, thar 's our cook in the rear 'f that old cotton- 
 gin yonder. Come, my boy, 'nd we '11 feed." 
 
 A glance to the right refreshed my eyes with 
 the sight of blazing wood and steaming kettles. 
 Thither we went and, through Nick's cleverness, suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining a bit of bacon, a pot of hot, black 
 coffee and sugar with which to sweeten it. It was a 
 feast for a hungry man ; such a meal as I had not en- 
 joyed in a long time, and it.was quickly devoured. 
 
 While eating, I asked the cook if he had seen any of 
 the Twelfth Kentucky, and was informed that a lot of 
 our men had passed only a short time before and that 
 they were now asleep in a little hollow only a few steps 
 away in the rear and on the right of the road. 
 
 After I had finished eating, I left Nick at the fire and 
 started in search of the boys, finding them where the 
 cook had directed me. Captain Hartees was there and, 
 only a few feet away, Fred, Jake and Taylor, all with 
 their accouterments on, sleeping just as they had thrown 
 themselves, on reaching the spot where they lay. I was 
 soon beside them and, without my blanket under my 
 head for a pillow, speedily became oblivious to all sur- 
 roundings.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Franklin, Tennessee, the county seat of Williamson, 
 is on the south bank of the Little Harpeth. This 
 stream winds nearly around the town, holding it as it 
 were in the lap of a crescent. 
 
 Within the arms of this crescent, that is, across from 
 one point to the other, is a ridge, known as Carter's 
 Hill, the crest of which commands a fine view of the 
 surrounding country. From this ridge, toward the 
 north, the ground gradually slopes to the river bank, 
 where the town is located. Franklin, therefore, is 
 bounded by the river on the north, east and west and 
 by the ridge on the south. 
 
 To the south of this ridge is also a gradual slope 
 which for little less than a mile on the right and 
 directly in front was clear of timber. This elevated 
 ground was occupied by our troops and, as I stood by 
 the cook's fire and drank my coffee, a few hours before, 
 I saw that the line selected for defense, and along which 
 our men were rapidly throwing up earth works, was a 
 curve extending from river to river. 
 
 The center of this intrenchment, part of which de- 
 scribed an angle, was at the Columbia Turnpike, where 
 a space, the whole width of the road, was left open, 
 and through which the artillery and baggage wagons 
 had passed on their way to Nashville. 
 [238]
 
 Tt E GUN-BEARER. 239 
 
 After sleeping two or three hours, I was suddenly 
 awakened. Expecting to find that some of my com- 
 rades had disturbed me, I raised my head ; but a glance 
 satisfied me they were still sleeping, and there was no 
 one else near. Closing my eyes, I again tried to sleep, 
 but the siibtle influence had fled, and, in spite of my 
 tired, worn-out condition, would not return. At last I 
 arose, buckled on my accouterments and, with rifle in 
 hand, walked toward the works. 
 
 Here I found most of our forces in position and 
 awaiting the appearance of the enemy. On the left of 
 the road I noticed a part of our brigade. A little way 
 in the rear were parked the ammunition wagons. 
 Crossing the road, a short distance away, a retrench- 
 ment commanded the opening in the works and its 
 approach. A few rods south of the cotton gin, a battery 
 of six field pieces had been stationed. West of this, 
 and on the other side of the Pike, were Opdycke's men 
 in reserve. 
 
 Just outside the works, beyond the angle, a detail of 
 men were hurriedly constructing a thorny abatis of 
 osage orange. East of this, Henderson's men held the 
 line to the Lewisburg Pike ; then Casement's Second 
 Brigade to the river. 
 
 Passing through the opening, I stood for a few 
 moments gazing at the landscape before me. The 
 afternoon was surpassingly lovely, and an Indian-sum- 
 mer haze, which pervaded the warm atmosphere, had 
 settled on the distant hills. Nature was peacefully 
 sinking into her winter sleep, undisturbed by any noise 
 save the caw of a crow which lazily winged its way 
 toward the leafless trees on the other side of the river. 
 
 " Caw ! Caw ! Caw !" 
 
 Like a hungry ghoul, impatient for a feast of human 
 flesh, this " thing of evil " turned suddenly and sailed
 
 240 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 in a circle above us. There was something almost 
 prophetic in the action. Death was at hand. In less 
 than an hour, perhaps, the air would be thick with 
 hissing bullets and the earth in front of me made red 
 with blood. 
 
 " Caw ! Caw ! Caw !" 
 
 Pitiless and mocking came the hoarse response to my 
 thought. Was it a warning ? The query thrilled me, and 
 I saw others shiver as we watched this uneasy spirit 
 winging higher and still higher. Was it possible that 
 from his dizzy height he saw the moment of battle 
 drawing near? 
 
 " Caw ! Caw ! Caw !" came the answer. 
 
 "What a place for a stand !" thought I. "If Hood 
 will only dare attack us here !" 
 
 In front of me was an unobstructed slope of open 
 fields, skirted at the base by a belt of woods. Beyond, 
 and nestling among the hills, a few farm houses were 
 to be seen. 
 
 Less than half a mile in front of our center and 
 stretching across the Turnpike were stationed two 
 brigades of Wagner's Division. 
 
 Why they were there I could not understand, but 
 supposed it must be for some good purpose. I noticed 
 every one in that line was alert and evidently scanning 
 the woods at the foot of the slope. 
 
 In the intrenchments, too, men were anxiously watch- 
 ing. Now that their work was nearly finished, they 
 gathered in groups to discuss the probability of an at- 
 tack. The solitary worker, with pick or shovel here 
 and there, stopped occasionally between the motions of 
 his occupation and viewed the scene. 
 
 " Will Hood attack us here or will he march around 
 us and once more get in our rear ?" was the question of 
 the moment.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 241 
 
 We had not long to wait for an answer to this query, 
 for, presently, a skirmish line, emerging from the woods, 
 gave signal that the enemy were approaching. 
 
 An awful stillness fell upon the scene ; a quiet I had 
 experienced, and which every one who has been in 
 battle knows better than can be described. The pulse- 
 beat of the line quickened. Men dropped pick and 
 spade and grasped their rifles. Gunners stood by their 
 guns, silently awaiting the solid ranks which everybody 
 knew were but a little distance behind the skirmishers. 
 I scanned the faces of the veterans near me, and saw 
 pictured there confidence and determination to settle 
 their account with Hood. 
 
 Suddenly, from a dozen throats, there arose the cry : 
 
 " There they come !" 
 
 Almost at the same instant, from out of the woods 
 near the river, on our left, and stretching to a consider- 
 able distance beyond the Columbia Turnpike, I saw the 
 dark gray lines and glittering bayonets of the Con- 
 federate army. In heavily massed column they ad- 
 vanced, as gayly, it seemed to me, as if they were 
 entering a parade-ground instead of a battle-field. 
 Marching toward us for a short distance, they wheeled 
 into line, halted, and were at once ready for the order, 
 " Forward !" 
 
 Two detachments of artillery thundered out of the 
 woods, galloped forward, unlimbered, and established 
 themselves in positions, covering different roads. There 
 was no counter-marching, no shifting of pieces. The 
 formation was made with accuracy and dispatch. 
 
 Leaving my post of observation in front, I turned, 
 went inside the works and joined a group from m'y 
 brigade, who were also watching the scene. 
 
 When the enemy began to move they manifested 
 even more deliberation than at first ; the lines, which
 
 242 s THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 appeared to be six or seven regiments deep, in the 
 center, assumed better shape and advanced with a pre- 
 cision and military bearing- seldom seen on a holiday 
 parade. It was one of the most impressive sights I 
 ever witnessed and occasioned much favorable com- 
 ment from the veterans near me. 
 
 Later, as the enemy increased their speed to a double- 
 quick, one of the group in front of me said : 
 
 "That 's what I call a handsome line of battle." 
 
 " You 're right, it is !" said another. " And they 
 mean business, too !" 
 
 " The best thing Wagner can do," said a third, " is to 
 git out er that place, and do it quick, too ! He 'd better 
 git in here out er the way." 
 
 " He 's no good where he is," rejoined the first speaker, 
 " and we can't use a piece of artillery or fire a musket 
 while they stand between us and the enemy." 
 
 "There's a terrible mistake somewhere !" added still 
 another speaker. 
 
 It was true, we could not fire without injury to our 
 men. It was also true and painfully apparent that 
 some one had seriously blundered in placing that line. 
 Yet there it stood, two brigades of dazed, undisciplined 
 men, opposed to nearly forty thousand of the flower of 
 the Confederate Army. 
 
 When the enemy approached within a short distance, 
 these bridgades opened a rattling fire ; but the enemy, 
 without pause or, so far as we could see, the loss of a 
 man, hurried on, firing as they came, their line extend- 
 ing half a mile beyond either flank of the panic-stricken 
 brigades, who now broke and fled a confused, dis- 
 organized crowd, flying in terror and streaming directly 
 up the Turnpike, toward our center, as fast as their 
 legs could carry them. 
 
 ** There 's a foot-race for yer !" exclaimed the familiar
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 243 
 
 voice of Jake Bence. " But it 's just what we might 
 expect. Somehow we never get half a chance at the 
 Johnnies, but somebody up and spoils it all. What^ 
 business 'd that line out there, any way ? The idea ! 
 Hanging on till the last minute, 'nd what right had they 
 to fire, any how ? Our line 's got to break now to let 
 'em in. The rebs are close onto 'em, 'nd if they don't 
 look out they '11 all come in together. There 's rebs 
 enough to eat us, if they ever get a chance. Come, 
 Dan, we 'd better go and wake up the boys." 
 
 Together we hurried to our company in the rear of 
 the cotton-gin, roused man after man and set these to 
 work waking others. I ran to Captain Hartees, who 
 was lying with his head resting on his overcoat, and 
 attempted to shake him into wakefulness. He did not 
 respond. 
 
 "Captain!" I shouted. "Wake up! The rebs are 
 coming !" 
 
 By this time the noise of artillery and musketry on 
 our left gave evidence that the battle had commenced. ; 
 and, as I stooped and again took the sleeping officer by 
 the shoulder, I could hear the loud, ringing yells of the 
 enemy added to the roar of the oncoming storm. 
 
 " Captain !" I cried again. " Captain ! Wake up ! 
 The rebs are here ! The Ve attacked us are coming 
 close to the works ! Come, come, get up, or it will be 
 too late !" Saying which, I took hold of the shoulders 
 of the sleeper and raised him almost to his feet before 
 he awoke. 
 
 When the captain finally became conscious that he 
 was wanted the fleetest runners of the retreating bri- 
 gades had reached the ditch in front of the works, 
 jumped into it, and were coming up on the other side 
 and through our lines, which had opened to receive 
 them.
 
 244 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 From one end of our line of defense to the other, 
 excepting that portion covering the turnpike, a flame 
 of fire flashed a moment, fitfully, and the white smoke 
 of the burned powder hung like a curtain for an instant 
 between us and the enemy, only to drift away and 
 reveal the long lines of graycoats rapidly advancing 
 and pouring into our ranks a fire no less rapid. In 
 front I saw a wide area, literally crammed with Con- 
 federates ; their lines, being thicker at this point than 
 at any other, were mixed with our own men, all run- 
 ning together. 
 
 The enemy fully appreciated the situation, knew they 
 were completely covered by our men, and that so long 
 as this condition of things continued, we could not fire. 
 They also understood that our line would open to let 
 in this hapless crowd, and that that break in our center 
 would be their opportunity. 
 
 Toward this point they were running, careless, con- 
 fident, their muskets at a charge, and their faces beam- 
 ing with satisfaction, as if they were anticipating a 
 grand rout to come and were even then enjoying it. 
 Nearer and nearer, like a drove of brown sheep, crowd- 
 ing by and trying to run over each other, in their 
 eagerness to be first through our center, they jump 
 into the ditch with our men, and with them enter our 
 lines. 
 
 In their rear, a perfect sea of heads and glistening 
 steel, is moving forward with the same desperate 
 eagerness, forcing those who are in front continually 
 forward, whether they will or not. 
 
 The charge of the enemy was so impetuous, and the 
 bewilderment of the men, who should have held this 
 important point, so great, that our line, like a huge 
 gate opening inward, yielded. The enemy saw it, and
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 245 
 
 with a deafening yell, rushed for the gap, which imme- 
 diately becomes wider as the One hundredth and a 
 part of the One hundred and Fourth Ohio left their 
 post of duty and ran. 
 
 Panic stricken, men and officers fled in dismay ; the 
 wildest confusion prevailed. Every one seemed bent on 
 getting to the rear at the earliest moment. It looked 
 as if no human power could check this disastrous 
 stampede. A moment longer and our whole line, al- 
 ready in great peril, would have been hopelessly broken 
 and Hood victorious ; but just as the color-bearer of 
 the One hundredth Ohio came running by us, Captain 
 Hartees snatched the flag and, waving it aloft an in- 
 stant, shouted in a tone heard above the tumult : 
 
 " Break for the works !" 
 
 With a loud cheer company after company of the 
 Twelfth Kentucky follow the man whose bravery had 
 stimulated them so many times in emergencies. 
 Colonel White, with voice and gesture, urged on the 
 Sixteenth Kentucky and the Eighth Tennessee, and 
 rallied the flying Ohio regiments. All together we 
 struggle for the abandoned positions, while Wagner's 
 men, with the One Hundred and Seventy-fifth Ohio 
 and Opdyke's Brigade, filled with the enthusiasm of 
 their leader, also hurry to our support. 
 
 I had never before, in conflict, been so close to the 
 enemy ; never before had been able to look in men's 
 faces and note their expression. The countenances of 
 these men were not unpleasant to look upon. There 
 was nothing to excite fear nothing brutal about them ; 
 rather an expression of indifference, as I look back at 
 them now, like men who might, perhaps, have been dis- 
 possessed of their sensibilities, and were merely execut- 
 ing an order, without the faintest thought or care of
 
 246 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 consequences. There were many gray, weather-beaten 
 faces, telling tales of hardship, of privation and of suf- 
 fering. 
 
 As the main body of the two lines met, I heard, from 
 the opposite side : 
 
 "We've got 'em on the run, boys. The works are 
 ours ! Hold all you get !" 
 
 In response came the cheering voice of Hartees : 
 
 " Forward, men ! Drive 'em back ! Clean 'em out !" 
 
 I saw Jake, at this instant, jump quickly forward, 
 knock down a Confederate color-bearer, wrench away 
 the flag he carried, throw it on the ground, trample it 
 under foot and leave it there. 
 
 Immediately a desperate hand-to-hand fight, with 
 bayonets and clubbed muskets, ensued, and the stand- 
 ards of both armies waved within the line of works. 
 
 I found myself defending blows that a burly fellow 
 was aiming at my head. The features of his dust- 
 blackened and heated face were quivering with fero- 
 cious joy. His sharp white teeth were laid bare in a 
 wolfish grin, and I saw blazing, in his small gray eyes, 
 a determination to kill me or any one else who opposed 
 him. 
 
 He had clubbed his gun and was striking at me with 
 all the strength he could command. My rifle was 
 loaded, but so rapidly did this man handle his weapon 
 that I could do nothing but ward off his blows. 
 
 Once, twice, thrice he brought down the butt of his 
 .musket, aiming to strike my head ; but each time I 
 successfully fenced it off. Again and again, faster and 
 faster, he followed blow on blow. I seemed to have 
 been left alone to take care of this man. My comrades 
 were by my side; so near that I could feel the move- 
 ments of their bodies against my own, yet each man
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 247 
 
 was defending 1 , with his life, the ground he stood 
 upon^ as I was. Each was held equally close to his 
 perilous duty by the dogged determination of his 
 antagonist. I could help no one, others could not help 
 me. 
 
 The man confronting me was larger and stronger 
 than I, and I felt that I could not stand before him 
 very long. My defense weakened rapidly, but there set 
 in now a backward movement of the enemy the line 
 in front of me becoming, if possible, more dense than 
 ever. As his comrades crowded against my antagonist 
 he wavered, failed to recover from the last blow quick 
 enough to deliver another. My rifle was at his breast 
 in an instant. I fired. A flash, a burning flame ; then, 
 with a look of disappoitment on his face, intensified as 
 he clutched his rifle with firmer grip, he fell at my 
 feet. 
 
 At this moment I discovered beside me Nick Searle, 
 who, with others of the Sixteenth Kentucky, in their 
 eagerness to meet the enemy, had separated from their 
 comrades in that first rush for the works and were now 
 fighting with us, side by side. 
 
 Nick was striving desperately to free his gun from 
 the control of an assailant who had locked bayonets 
 with him. 
 
 They were well matched in strength, Nick having 
 advantage only by being the more active and fresher 
 of the two. There could be no doubt as to the result 
 of this individual encounter, I thought, glancing for 
 an instant at the combatants. 
 
 But another of the enemy jumped to the relief of 
 his comrade and, with the butt of his musket raised in 
 the air, was about to decide the content against my 
 friend.
 
 248 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 Quickly thrusting forward my rifle, I warded off the 
 blow which descended with crushing force on the 
 arm of Nick's foe, causing him to lose hold of his 
 musket and leaving Nick free to act in his own de- 
 fense. 
 
 There was no method of action in that encounter ; 
 all we thought of or cared for or strove to accomplish, 
 was to check, if possible, the progress of the enemy. 
 Men discharged their muskets in the faces of other 
 men ; they ran each other through the body with 
 bayonets ; they clubbed their guns and brought them 
 down upon the head of the enemy who stood nearest. 
 Others used the butts of their guns, as one might use a 
 battering-ram, and struck their opponents in the 
 face. 
 
 Rifle struck rifle, bayonet locked with bayonet, and 
 men panted as they wildly struggled with each other 
 for possession of this central point in the line of our 
 defense. Back, step by step, the enemy are forced 
 into the ditch. They fought like madmen to hold 
 all they had gained ; but, in spite of their undaunted 
 courage, the gap through which they had expected 
 to pass " on the run " closed and was now well de- 
 fended. 
 
 Among the many prisoners taken and hurried to the 
 rear, I saw the Confederate general, Gordon, in charge 
 of Captain Hartees. 
 
 It was while leading his division in this charge that 
 the Confederate general, Cleburn was shot, not more 
 than thirty paces in front of us. The horse from 
 which he fell advanced to the top of our works, where 
 he was shot and dropped with his feet hanging over the 
 headlogs. 
 
 Our line was once more unbroken, and we were
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 249 
 
 thinking that the worst was over, when the cry was 
 sounded : 
 
 " There they come again !" 
 
 Another line of battle, stronger than the first, had 
 advanced at a double quick, under cover of the smoke, 
 and were now upon us. 
 
 On they come, shoulder touching shoulder, loading 
 and firing as they advanced. But their assault was 
 met with the firmness of a rock, and the living wave 
 was dashed back. Bruised, torn and bleeding, they 
 staggered and fell in heaps under our fire, which 
 was now crossed at a left oblique by the fire from 
 a part of our brigade, on the other side of the 
 Pike. 
 
 The discharge of small arms was so incessant that 
 dense masses of smoke settled upon us, partly obscuring 
 the field, and veiled the movements of the assaulting 
 lines, excepting when the sulphurous vapor was lifted 
 into rifts. Then we saw battle-flags waving, lines 
 charging and men reeling and falling to earth. Great 
 swaths of human beings fell, as grass falls before a 
 scythe ; but the horrible gaps closed again, and tramp- 
 ing, slipping, stumbling over the fallen bodies of their 
 dead and wounded comrades, with the powder flame 
 from our guns almost burning their faces, they 
 pressed toward the death which they knew awaited 
 them. 
 
 Again and again the assault was made, with similar 
 results ; and the piles of dead and wounded attested 
 the heroic determination of the enemy to carry our 
 works at any cost. 
 
 One Confederate color-bearer reached the crest of our 
 works with his flag, stood with it above his head an 
 instant ; then, burying its pointed staff deep in the
 
 250 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 joose earth, and amid a storm of bullets, leaving his 
 colors flying in our faces, he jumped back among his 
 comrades, laughing and unharmed. 
 
 Hardly had he disappeared when, with a prolonged 
 yell, the enemy attacked us with such fury that it seemed 
 as if not only Hood's but Lee's army, also, was behind 
 those gallant fellows, forcing them on. But they need 
 no spur. Their standard was planted upon our works 
 and beckoned to them. Volley upon volley we direct 
 at the staff of this banner, but it continued to wave, 
 defiantly, mockingly. 
 
 Captain Hartees forces his way toward this point, 
 shouting at the same time : 
 
 " Cut down that flag ! Down with it !" 
 
 " Cut it down ! Cut it down !" echoed a score of 
 voices. 
 
 A heavy fire was centered upon it, tearing the banner 
 into shreds. The staff splintered, bit by bit. Oh, so 
 slowly ! It bent, it broke, and the emblem of treason 
 at last dropped to the earth. 
 
 Faster the rear ranks loaded, faster the front ranks 
 fired, until at times our whole front was one continuous 
 line of blazing musketry. The enemy in our immedi- 
 ate front could endure it no longer, and during a brief 
 lull cry out : 
 
 " For God's sake, stop firing ! Let us come in ! We 
 surrender !" 
 
 " Stay where you are !" thunders back a voice. "Lie 
 down ! Keep out of the way !" 
 
 We could not let them in. Other lines were still 
 advancing upon us, and we had no time to spare in 
 taking prisoners. Worst of all, our ammunition was 
 giving out. 
 
 Captain Hartees discovered this fact and ordered me
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 251 
 
 to carry the information to General Reilly, and tell 
 him we must have more ammunition, and at 
 once. 
 
 I left my place in line, went to the rear, found the 
 general, and delivered the message. 
 
 "Tell him," said our brigade commander, "he shall 
 have it, and all he wants at once," upon which he 
 turned and rode away. 
 
 It appeared to me as I stood alone for a moment, 
 trying to take in the scene, that the bullets were flying 
 thicker there, than at the front. Shot and shell were 
 whistling through the air from all directions ; while 
 along the whole line of our defense, enveloped in thick 
 smoke, which was dispersed above in a thin canopy of 
 bluish vapor, I heard the hoarse shout of contending 
 armies, and the angry report of musketry as it flashed 
 and tore along from right and left to center and back 
 again, lighting up the smoke clouds as the light- 
 ning's flash illumines the dark cloud on a summer's 
 night. 
 
 Wounded men everywhere ; some, leaning on their 
 guns for support, were limping away ; some, crawling 
 to a place of safety'; others, too weak to move further, 
 were dying where loss of blood had compelled them to 
 stop. 
 
 A wounded, riderless horse, frantic with pain, and 
 wild with the furious tumult, bounded over the 
 field, seeking to fly from the peril which surrounded 
 us. 
 
 I wonder now that I ever had the courage to return 
 to my post ; but the idea that my life was in danger 
 never occurred to me. The scene I witnessed from the 
 rear impressed me, but it inspired no feeling of fear ; 
 I had delivered my message, and satisfied myself that
 
 252 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 things were yet well with us, and returned to my 
 duty. 
 
 My nerves were strung to the highest tension, and I 
 was conscious that my excitement was intense, but the 
 controlling influence, that which moved me quickly 
 forward, was the fear that some of my comrades 
 should miss me, and not understand why I had left 
 them. 
 
 Once more in line, I glanced backward toward the 
 ammunition-wagons, and there saw a man take a box 
 of ammunition on his shoulder and start toward us on 
 the run. He had covered nearly half the distance when 
 he fell, pierced with the enemy's bullets. Another 
 man picked up the box, but carried it only a few yards 
 when he, too, fell. At that moment some one from 
 brigade headquarters, who had seen the second man 
 fall, ran to the box, now wet with blood, picked it up 
 and brought it in. 
 
 In a moment the cover was off and the contents of 
 the box were distributed. Just then came another lull 
 in the firing when the enemy, who had given up the 
 fight, and had since been lying close under the hedge 
 and in the ditch, jumped up, shouting : 
 
 " Let us come in now ! We surrender !" 
 
 " Come in ! Come in !" we shouted, without waiting 
 for orders. 
 
 Instantly our works were swarming with the enemy, 
 who threw down both colors, arms and ammunition, 
 and hurried to the rear. 
 
 Two or three of our boys picked up a few of these 
 battle flags, of which there was a large number, when 
 a shout from some one stopped them. 
 
 " Leave these flags for the sutlers !" said the voice. 
 " Look out for the flags in front !"
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 253 
 
 Only a brief pause in the roar of battle, just long 
 enough to pass around the ammunition we had re- 
 ceived and get our prisoners out of the way, when 
 again " the rebel yell," from another of the successive 
 lines of assailants, gave warning of a renewal of the 
 contest. 
 
 Like men who were breasting a storm of hail, pulling 
 their hats down over their eyes and inclining their heads 
 forward to meet the leaden rain, they rush toward the red 
 tongues of death that, simultaneously with the order, 
 "Fire !" leaped forth to scorch and wither dozens and 
 scores and hundreds. 
 
 I wonder how men dare rush in the face of death so 
 calmly, so deliberately. 
 
 I -fixed my eyes on a tall, sinewy fellow, with brown 
 beard, a slouched hat, with the rim turned down and a 
 ragged suit of brown and gray. His hands held his 
 rifle firmly as he ran over the dead and wounded bodies 
 of those who have gone before him. He looked not to 
 see where he stepped ; now upon the chest of some 
 wounded comrade ; now upon the neck or in the face 
 of some one nearly dead, who writhed in agony at the 
 fresh torture inflicted. 
 
 On, on he came. Bullets flew faster and yet faster 
 around him ; his companions fell on either side of him ; 
 he heeded them not. He stumbled at last, gathered 
 himself, ran a few paces, stumbled again, staggered, 
 dropped his gun and fell. Those behind were now 
 running over his body as he ran over others but an 
 instant before. 
 
 Meanwhile, the sun had set. It was becoming dark, 
 but I could yet see across the Turnpike, where the 
 battle was raging still no less fiercely than with us. 
 There, also, the enemy are trying to storm the works.
 
 254 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 But our line stood firm as the cliffs of the sea. An 
 officer, leading the charge, rode to the ditch, leaped it 
 and mounted the works, where the horse fell, riddled 
 with bullets, and the rider tumbled headlong to the 
 earth. 
 
 A howl of rage rose from the infuriated host which 
 now sprang forward for revenge. The entire line was 
 stimulated to desperation. Nearer and nearer they 
 come. Another battle flag rose above the works within 
 a feet few feet of me. The experience with that other 
 flag was enough for one day, and I resolved that this 
 banner should not wave over us if I could help it. 
 
 Impulsively I dropped my rifle, jumped toward the 
 flag, seized it by the staff with both hands and exerted 
 all my energy to wrench it from the hands of the man 
 who carried it. A desperate struggle for the posses- 
 sion of the flag ensued. First victory seemed to be 
 on one side, then on the other. But neither would 
 yield. 
 
 Backward and forward, now brought nearly to my 
 knees, now in danger of being thrown to the earth by 
 the almost superhuman strength of my antagonist, we 
 struggled for a moment on the works, the flag, just 
 above our heads, swaying in all directions with the 
 movements of our bodies, the thick smoke of the 
 atmosphere around us, almost suffocating in its density, 
 vibrating with the sounds of exploding rifles, clash- 
 ing bayonets and the whistle and zip of swiftly flying 
 bullets. 
 
 Suddenly I felt a burning sensation, as if a red hot 
 iron had been laid on my head, and my eyes were 
 quickly blinded with hot blood running over my face. 
 Conscious that whatever I did must be done quickly, I 
 summoned all the power that in me lay for a final
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 255 
 
 effort. The staff yielded, and, amid wild shouts of tri- 
 umph, though from which side I could not tell, I fall 
 backward. Some one caught me as I fell, and hurried 
 me to the rear. 
 
 I grew dizzy. My strength was fast leaving me, and 
 it was with difficulty I kept my feet as we ran. The 
 noise of battle increased. There was a roaring sound 
 in my ears ; a sharp, stinging pain in my right arm ; a 
 bursting sensation ; then blankness.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 It was night when I returned to consciousness, and I 
 found myself in bed, gazing at a small circle of light on 
 the ceiling overhead. Directly beneath was a heavily- 
 shaded lamp, which cast a luminous disk upon a table. 
 Other parts of the room were in somber gloom. 
 
 In a low chair near the table, partly in light and 
 partly in shadow, sat a woman reading. I could not see 
 the woman's face nor tell if she was black or white. 
 
 An air of wholesome comfort and peace and quiet 
 pervaded the place, and I wondered where it was ; why 
 I was lying in bed with my head so tightly bandaged ; 
 why my -arms and limbs were so numb and void of 
 feeling. 
 
 For some time my brain refused to act and I lay 
 dazed, bewildered, utterly unable to recall the past. 
 By degrees, however, it slowly came to me, and the 
 picture of a powder-blackened face and a man carrying 
 a bullet-rent battle flag presented itself. Then the con- 
 flict in which I was wounded flashed before me. 
 
 But this house. Why was I here ? This was not a 
 hospital. It must be far removed from the results of 
 yesterday's battle ; for, so far as I could see, there were 
 no other wounded men near me. 
 [256]
 
 'I SK1ZKD THK FI.AH WITH BOTH HA.NL.8." Ste Page 254.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 257 
 
 I tried in various ways to account for my surround- 
 ings, but reached no satisfactory conclusion. Then my 
 mind reverted to the battle ;~ whether or not we were 
 victorious ; if I succeeded in taking that flag. I had 
 hold of the staff and there was a confused recollection 
 that I did not let go of it. Then came that terrible, 
 burning pain in my head. 
 
 "Ah, if that had not come so soon, had only kept 
 away a moment longer, the .flag would have been mine, 
 and I should have remembered all about it. Perhaps 
 this woman can tell me something about it." 
 
 I tried to attract her attention and failed. She did 
 not hear me ; at least she did not move. My voice 
 was weak and strange. I hardly recognized it. But I 
 tried again ; this time with what I considered a greater 
 effort. 
 
 " Who got the flag ?" I asked. 
 
 Still no response. 
 
 My voice was thick and hoarse, but she surely must 
 have heard me. Why don't the woman answer me ? 
 
 I lay and looked and waited and wondered what it 
 all meant ; where Fred was, and if it was he who 
 helped me to the rear when I was wounded. 
 
 Now I think of it, I don't remember seeing him 
 during the fight ; but neither do I remember seeing 
 any one else, except Bence and Hartees and Nick too, 
 after the fight commenced. I wonder if they got out 
 of the battle all right. Fred was with me when 
 Hartees shouted for us to follow him, and we both 
 started for the works together. 
 
 Hartees what became of him ? He was a brave 
 man, none braver ; always at the front ; never shirking. 
 He and I were the only two in the regiment who were 
 not Kentuckians. Where did he come from ? Nobody
 
 258 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 ever seemed to know. Of course I had seen him at 
 the Waytown Arms on the night we received the 
 news that Fort Sumter had been fired upon, but he was 
 a stranger, even there, as will be remembered. 
 
 Musing thus, I wearily watched the leaves of the 
 book as the reader turned them one by one. I wished 
 she would stop reading and look at me that I might 
 attract her attention. But I was in darkness, and even 
 if I should beckon she could not see me. While trying 
 to arrange some plan by which I might call her, I fell 
 asleep. 
 
 When I again awoke the sun was shining into the 
 room, through partially closed shutters, and I saw a 
 young woman sitting by an open window looking at 
 me. 
 
 The face of this woman was familiar to me. I had 
 seen it before. It is wonderfully like Mary's face. But 
 how can that be possible. How came she here ? 
 Pshaw ! I must be dreaming. And yet, I ought to 
 know that face. 
 
 Resolved to prove at once if it were she, or at least 
 attract attention before she turned her eyes from me, I 
 said : 
 
 " Mary !" 
 
 " What !" rising suddenly. " Do you really know me, 
 Dan ?" 
 
 "Yes, Mary, why shouldn't I know you ?" 
 
 "Thank God!" she fervently exclaimed, tears stream- 
 ing down her face as she came rapidly to my bedside, 
 bent over and kissed me. 
 
 Surely this is no dream, thought I, closing my eyes, 
 and yet I cannot understand the reality of my situation. 
 Yesterday in battle, in middle Tennessee ; to-day at 
 home in Northern Kentucky.
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 259 
 
 Distance is not so easily overcome as that, and if it 
 were, how was it managed that I had been so speedily 
 taken care of while others, in a worse condition, are 
 left to suffer on that terrible battlefield ? 
 
 I hardly dare speak lest the spell should break and I 
 find, after all, it was only a dream. What if it should be 
 so ? I shuddered at the thought and opened my eyes 
 A look from Mary inspired me with the confidence to 
 speak. 
 
 " Mary," said I, hesitatingly, " Mary, tell me, is this a 
 dream ?" 
 
 " Oh, Dan, it is all real ; but you must not dare 
 talk. You are so weak. Let me " 
 
 Here she turned to leave the room. 
 
 " Mary !" I cried, with all the strength at my com- 
 mand, determined not to let her pass out of sight ; 
 " Mary, don't leave me ! Don't !" 
 
 " I won't, Dan, I won't. But your mother " 
 
 Just then the door opened softly, and my mother 
 entered the room. I looked into the dear, tired face, 
 whose lips were quivering with suppressed emotion as 
 she came toward me, and whatever else I tried to say, 
 my voice failed to utter but. the one word : 
 
 " Mother !" 
 
 " My dear child," she said, kneeling by my bed 
 and putting her face lovingly against mine, "God is 
 indeed good to give me back my boy. He will let you 
 live now and get strong again." 
 
 " Yes, mother, I shall soon be well." 
 
 " It will take time, my son. But you are at home 
 now, and in good hands. Please God, we will bring you 
 out f this all right. But you will have to be per- 
 fectly quiet for some time yet. A dangerous operation 
 has been performed on your head. The result, so far,
 
 260 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 is successful. But the least excitement may undo all 
 that the doctors have done. So you will be patient, 
 my boy, and wait until you are stronger, before we can 
 talk to you or you can ask questions. Don't think of 
 the past. Sleep. Rest. Watch me or Mary, and 
 remember mother is with you." 
 
 "I'll try and obey orders," I answered, trying to 
 smile. 
 
 " That 's right, my son. You shall know all we can 
 tell you in good time. Mary or I will be with you 
 night and day. You shall not want for anything, so 
 don't worry. The doctors will be here to-night. Until 
 then you must not talk any more. Let me fix your 
 pillow a little. There ! You feel easier now, don't 
 you ?" 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 " Sleep now, if you can. The more you sleep the 
 faster you will gain strength." 
 
 With this comforting thought my mother kissed me 
 and quietly left the room. I watched her until the 
 door closed, assured myself that Mary was still with 
 me, then shut my eyes and slept. 
 
 When I awoke the doctors three of them were 
 present. They felt my pulse, ascertained the tempera- 
 ture of my body, examined the bandages on my head, 
 asked me if I knew where I was, what regiment I 
 belonged to, and a number of questions which, at the 
 time, seemed quite silly to me. They were all answered 
 promptly, however, and without confusion. 
 
 " Most encouraging," said a gray-haired doctor, one of 
 the trio, when the other two had finished with their 
 catechising. " Young man," he said, addressing me, 
 " you may thank God that you have remarkable recu- 
 perative powers."
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 261 
 
 During the conference which followed there was 
 some talk of leaving opiates for me to take, but the 
 gray-haired doctor objected, saying : 
 
 " The young man needs neither opiates nor tonics. 
 We have only to look after these bandages, and with 
 careful nursing" here he glanced at Mary "nature 
 will do the rest." 
 
 After giving full instructions regarding my diet and 
 forbidding me to talk, the doctors departed. 
 
 A week of studied silence followed ; days of sleeping 
 and waiting and watching. In this time I rapidly 
 gained in strength. The sensation of numbness in 
 both lower limbs was gradually leaving them. My left 
 hand and arm I could move a little, but not enough so 
 that I could feed myself. My right side, however, 
 seemed to have no sense of feeling whatever. 
 
 The doctors came every evening, noted the progress 
 I had made and offered me words of encouragement. 
 At last they informed us that I was strong enough to 
 be talked to or that some one might read to me ; but 
 only for a little while at a time ; not more than half an 
 hour each day. 
 
 This was glorious liberty, and my first investment of 
 it was with my mother. The next morning, after 
 breakfast, she seated herself near the bed and said : 
 
 " Well, my son, now that we can talk to you, I sup- 
 pose you want to know all about yourself and how you 
 happen to be here !" 
 
 " Yes, mother !" 
 
 She began : 
 
 "Shortly after the Battle of Franklin I received a 
 letter from Fred, at Nashville. He told me you 
 had been wounded and needed more care than 
 you could possibly get from army surgeons and
 
 262 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 nurses. The next morning, after receiving that 
 letter, I was on my -way to Nashville, where I found 
 you in a temporary hospital. You were unconscious 
 and, the doctor told me, had been so since the battle. 
 Your condition, he said, was produced by two pieces 
 of the fractured skull pressing upon the brain. The 
 remedy was an extremely difficult operation which he 
 intended to perform when you were strong enough. 
 The shock your nervous system had received was great, 
 and it would yet be weeks before he could think of 
 doing anything more for you. Your arm was healing." 
 
 " My arm, mother ?" 
 
 " Yes, my dear boy. The bone of your right arm 
 was so shattered that amputation above the elbow was 
 necessary." 
 
 " I didn't know that," I said. This accounted for the 
 numbness in my right side. I had no arm and could 
 not feel. " Well," I said, trying to look cheerful, " my 
 left arm remains and my lower limbs," moving them. 
 "Yes, they are yet sound." 
 
 " Better still, my son, the operation of ten days ago 
 was successful, and your senses have been restored. As 
 soon as the doctor at Nashville thought I could safely 
 do so I had you brought home, where you have been 
 ever since. Shortly after reaching home a fever set in 
 and we almost despaired of your life ; but careful nurs- 
 ing brought you safely through." 
 
 " You and Mary nursed me through it all ?" 
 
 " Yes, my boy. Either she or I have been with you 
 night and day." 
 
 ""You are both very tired." 
 
 " We were both very anxious until after the operation 
 ten days ago. Since then the improvement in your 
 condition has been so marked that we have rested
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 263 
 
 much, to say nothing of the mental relief we have 
 enjoyed. But I must finish my story." 
 
 " What about the doctors here, mother ? Who were 
 they ?" 
 
 " Several doctors were consulted as to performing the 
 operation necessary to relieve that 'pressure on your 
 brain, and, as no one here dared undertake it, a special- 
 ist the old gentleman was sent for from Cincinnati. 
 He came, examined your head and appointed a day 
 when he would perform the operation. He said the 
 result all depended on the curative resources of nature. 
 He could only give you the benefit of his art. Nature 
 must provide for the rest." 
 
 " Did he say anything about the wounds ?" 
 
 " There were two separate wounds, he said, at right 
 angles with each other, and one very much deeper than 
 the other. They were in a healthy condition, however, 
 and that was in your favor. That was all he would say, 
 except that it was a remarkable case. On the appointed 
 day the doctors came, the specialist bringing two friends 
 with him from Cincinnati. The operation was per- 
 formed, and Doctor Cutler, who lives in town, said the 
 old gentleman exhibited wonderful skill. I was not 
 allowed in the room. They thought it better not. 
 After the operation you went to sleep, and slept 
 soundly for the rest of that day and night. The next 
 morning you saw Mary sitting by the window, and 
 spoke to her." 
 
 " Who was it seated at the table, reading, the night 
 before ?" I asked. 
 
 "It was I. Did Mary tell you some one was 
 there ?" 
 
 " No, mother. I saw you and tried to call you, but 
 failed. I watched you turn the leaves of that book
 
 264 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 for a long time ; wondered where I was and tried to 
 make it all out, but finally went to sleep." 
 
 " The doctor thought you might wake up in the night, 
 and he was right. But he warned us not to talk to you ; 
 that it would be better for you to sleep. I did not hear 
 you, however. There, I must not talk any more. Mary 
 will tell you all about the battle to-morrow. You have 
 heard enough for to-day." 
 
 On the following morning, after disposing of the 
 scanty allowance one poached egg, two small slices of 
 buttered toast and a glass of warm milk, which con- 
 stituted my breakfast I asked Mary to tell me all 
 about the battle. 
 
 " Do you feel better this morning ?" she asked. 
 
 " Much better," I replied. " Mary, yesterday morn- 
 ing mother told me that you and she have nursed 
 me ever since I was brought home." 
 
 " It is true," replied Mary. " But I was glad to do it. 
 Don't say anything about it. The danger is now passed, 
 thank God, and you will soon be up and about." 
 
 " You have been very good to me and I must at least 
 say I am grateful for what you have done," I persisted. 
 
 "Then have the goodness not to refer to it again, 
 please. Is there not something I can do for you !" 
 
 " Yes ; tell me about the battle, please, and how it 
 went. ' I am anxioiis to know." 
 
 " You must let me tell you in my own way, then, as 
 things occur to me. I can only tell you what Fred has 
 told me and what I have read in the daily papers." 
 
 " Fred got out of it all right, then ?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes, but you must not anticipate nor interrupt nor 
 question me. Remember, sir," and her face assumed 
 an expression of droll importance, " I am to do all the 
 talking."
 
 THE GUNrPEARER. 265 
 
 " All right, Mary, I will remember." 
 
 " In the first place, then, Hood was defeated, losing 
 something over six thousand men. Schofield lost two 
 thousand men. One thousand of these belonged to 
 Wagner's two brigades, who were in front of your works 
 before the battle commenced. The fight was about 
 over by seven o'clock ; though there were occasional 
 volleys from the enemy until ten o'clock. After that 
 time, there being no further demonstration, Schofield 
 sent out a skirmish line, and not finding the enemy, 
 they returned, when our whole force quietly left the 
 works and marched to Nashville. The flag you risked 
 your life for " 
 
 " Well ?" I asked quickly, my pulses throbbing with 
 excitement. 
 
 " Is in this drawer." 
 
 " What ?" I exclaimed, as the thought of this trophy 
 being so near, thrilled me. " Then 1 did capture it 
 after all ?" 
 
 " Yes, but calm yourself, Dan. Be perfectly calm or 
 I shall stop talking. It will not do to excite yourself. 
 I ought not to have spoken of this." 
 
 "Show it to me Mary. Show it to me. See, I am 
 calm." 
 
 With a look of distrust, Mary opened a drawer in the 
 table standing near the head of my bed, took out and 
 unfolded a tattered, blood-stained, cross-barred flag, 
 the general appearance of which had been burned so 
 vividly into my memory. 
 
 Hold it up, Mary. Hold it up ! Let me look at it 
 once more." 
 
 " Oh, Dan, how could you ?" she said, holding the 
 flag up as high as she could reach. " How could you 
 dare so much for only a flag ?"
 
 266 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Only a flag, Mary ; only a flag. Ah, if you had 
 seen the hosts of brave men following that flag, 
 through smoke and blood, to the jaws of death. If you 
 had thrilled with the cheers of encouragement from 
 comrades who were watching you ; if you could 
 know " 
 
 " Hush, sir ! Hush ! Remember your promise ; you 
 are not to talk. It won't do any good. I have tried, 
 but cannot understand it, and I don't believe any 
 woman or even a man who has not been in battle can 
 understand anything of the inspiration in a flag, that 
 leads men to death. It was a daring thing to do. 
 They say you jumped onto the works wrenched the 
 flag from the hands of its bearer and that too after you 
 had been wounded. It was a brave act, and as you were 
 between two fires, it is a miracle you were not killed. 
 After you had possession of the flag you fell back- 
 ward. A man by the name of Searle caught you " 
 
 " What, Nick ?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes, I think that is his name." 
 
 " Where is he now ?" 
 
 " Remember your promise, and please not interrupt. 
 Let me finish the story in my own way. I mean to 
 be arbitrary in this matter." 
 
 " I will be silent," I passively responded. " Go on !" 
 
 " Well, then, you were led to the rear as rapidly as 
 possible, dragging the captured banner after you. Be- 
 fore reaching a place of safety your arm was shattered 
 by a bullet ; then you dropped the flag. At the same 
 time you received another wound in your head and 
 dropped as if dead. Searle dragged you to the ambu- 
 lances, where you were examined by the doctor, who 
 found you were living and, after dressing your wounds 
 temporarily, sent you to Nashville. Fred and others
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 267 
 
 saw you when you captured the flag and havte many 
 times told the story. Searle, on his return to the 
 front, picked up the flag, tore it from the staff and put 
 it in his pocket. He came to see you when the war 
 closed." 
 
 " What !" I exclaimed in astonishment at this new 
 revelation. "The war the war closed, did you 
 say ?" 
 
 " Yes, Dan. Lee surrendered on the pth of April." 
 
 " And I?" 
 
 " Have been battling for life and reason for nearly 
 six months. It is now the 2oth of May."
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 " How is my boy to-day ?" said mother, on entering 
 my room one morning, a few days after the events nar- 
 rated in the last chapter. 
 
 "Better, thank you," I replied. "I slept well last 
 night, and am now equal to a good breakfast, and feel 
 as if I might be up and dressed by and by." 
 
 Mother smiled good-naturedly, and said : 
 
 " There 's nothing to be gained by hurrying. Better 
 wait a few days longer. Mary is preparing breakfast, 
 and, while you are waiting, I have a little story to tell 
 which, I am sure, will surprise you, and I know will do 
 you no harm." 
 
 " What is it, mother ?" I asked, wondering how it was 
 possible to bring forward anything more surprising 
 than had been revealed to me during the days just 
 passed. 
 
 " Well, I will tell you. About four weeks since I 
 received from a lawyer in Memphis, Tennessee, a letter, 
 which had been forwarded to me from Waytown. The 
 letter was addressed to your father, and stated that 
 father's brother " 
 [268]
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 269 
 
 I did not know father had a brother ?" I interrupted. 
 
 " He did, though. But he rarely ever mentioned him. 
 His name was Daniel Nichols. He was a rich planter, 
 owned a large number of slaves, and was so thoroughly 
 aristocratic in his notions that father would have 
 nothing to do with him." 
 
 " More 's the pity," I remarked. " His brother might 
 have been a great help when father was sick and in 
 trouble." 
 
 "Yes, he might, and no doubt would, if he had 
 known. But your father was as proud, though not as 
 successful, as his brother, and would not have asked for 
 help to keep us out of the poor-house." 
 
 " But the lawyer's letter. What about it ?" I asked, a 
 little impatiently. 
 
 "I was about to tell you. It was a notice, in effect, 
 that Daniel Nichols had died and that his property, by 
 reason of the death of his son, had been willed to 
 your father, and that the lawyers awaited further 
 instructions and would be pleased to attend to all 
 matters of transfer, record, et cetera" 
 
 " What is the property, mother ?" 
 
 "A schedule of it accompanied the letter, and it 
 amounts to almost one hundred and fifty thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 " What ?" I gasped. " One hundred and Oh, pshaw ! 
 It cannot be. It is only a mistake. One hundred and 
 fifty thous Are you sure this is true ?" 
 
 " Quite true, Daniel, and no mistake." 
 
 "And I am mother, am 1 dreaming? Say that 
 again, please," said I, reaching out and taking her hand 
 in my own. 
 
 " It is all true, Daniel. Your uncle died and left all 
 his property that is, all the war had left him to your
 
 270 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 father. As your father is dead the property passes, 
 by terms of the will, to you. It is valued at a hun- 
 dred and fifty thousand dollars in round numbers, and 
 consists of a bank account of some fifty thousand, 
 United States bonds, singularly enough, to the extent 
 of fifty thousand more, and the balance represents the 
 assessed valuation of the plantation, all of which have 
 been duly transferred to you, his nephew and only 
 living blood relation." 
 
 " And it is then really a fact that I am a " 
 "A rich man, in your own right, Daniel." 
 I lay back upon my pillow, closed my eyes and tried 
 to take in the situation. My father's brother ! An 
 uncle of whom I had never heard, in western Tennes- 
 see ! Strangely enough, at that moment I heard a 
 familiar tune being whistled by a passing boy on the 
 street, and there came to my mind the old chant of 
 Black Lige, 
 
 "Nebber min' de wedder so de win' don' blow." 
 
 Quickly following the resurrection of this old tune, there 
 passed in mental review the stalwart form of the cap- 
 tain's cook, and his effort, the first time we met, to have 
 me recognize him as the son of his old master. Lige 
 was from Tennessee, they said. Yes, it must be so. 
 No doubt I resembled that cousin, and Lige was moved 
 to recognition by it. I wondered if I should ever see 
 Lige again. If I should happen down there and wel- 
 come him back to the old plantation, where, no doubt, 
 he was born and had passed all his young life Mary's 
 appearance at this instant put an end to my dream- 
 ing, and I asked if Mary knew of my good for- 
 tune. 
 " Yes, Daniel, Mary knows the whole story."
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 271 
 
 "It 's about my uncle in Tennessee," I replied 
 in answer to a questioning look from Mary's 
 eyes. 
 
 " I am glad for you," she said, simply, " but now we 
 haye something of vastly more importance to con- 
 sider. Here are dainties fit for a king, and you have 
 only to eat sir and be well." 
 
 What an appetizing breakfast that was, with Mary 
 and mother to supply the needs of my missing hand ; 
 and what a delightful experience to watch these dear 
 ones as they lovingly vied with each other in their 
 efforts to please me. 
 
 After the meal was finished and mother had taken 
 away the tray, Mary said : 
 
 " I wonder if you are now in a condition to bear 
 another surprise ?" 
 
 " What, another ? Will wonders never cease ?" 
 
 " I hope, Dan, we may never again have anything 
 happen to us less pleasing than that which I am about 
 to tell you of. But, perhaps, after all, I had better wait 
 a day or two longer. You ought not to have too much 
 to carry in your mind just yet." 
 
 " There you go, teasing again. You know I am 
 strong enough now to bear almost anything. Besides, 
 I have already been so thoroughly surprised at every- 
 thing that has transpired that I do not see how it can be 
 possible to startle me further ; particularly if what you 
 tell me is pleasing." 
 
 " Oh, it is decidedly pleasant, or you may be sure I 
 would not tell you," Mary replied. " Perhaps, after all, 
 I may as well tell you." 
 
 " Do, I implore you," said I, coaxingly. 
 
 Mary looked at me quietly for an instant and then 
 said:
 
 272 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 " Do you happen to have the least bit of curiosity to 
 know whatever became of your captain ?" 
 
 " Do I want to know where Captain Hartees is ? 
 Most emphatically, yes !" 
 
 " Ah, yes, Hartees ! Yes, that 's the name. I could 
 not recall it." 
 
 " But what about him ? Do you know where he 
 is?" 
 
 " I can make a shrewd guess," as the Yankees say. 
 
 "Come, Mary,- tell me what you have to tell, and 
 don't tease me any longer? Was he wounded at 
 Franklin ?" 
 
 " No, he was not wounded !" she replied, smiling at 
 my impatience. 
 
 " I 'm glad of that," I said, taking hold of her hand 
 and looking into her love-lit eyes. 
 
 " Well, we had a letter direct from Waytown one 
 day last week, and " 
 
 " Tell me about that some other time, Mary ; but, 
 just now, tell me where Captain Hartees is or I '11 
 cut you off without a shilling !" 
 
 "You are getting positively dangerous, and if you 
 don't look out you shall have no dinner !" 
 
 " All right, Mary, have your own way ; take your own 
 time ; I 'm sure to know it later." 
 
 " You surely won't if you persist in interrupting me ! 
 This letter was dated at Waytown and was signed by 
 John Hartees." 
 
 "Well, well, that is, indeed, a surprise. What is he 
 doing there, pray ?" 
 
 " That you will learn later, if you please." 
 
 " I should like to see him." 
 
 " It will be your own fault if you do not, as soon as 
 you are able to travel !"
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 273 
 
 X 
 
 " How so ?" 
 
 " Because he has settled there. He has married Edith 
 Miller, whom I suppose you have heard of." 
 
 " Married Edith Miller ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and, what is more, he is very anxious to 
 have you and your mother, when you recover, come 
 back to Waytown and live there." 
 
 " We never could do that, Mary, and see our old home 
 occupied by strangers." 
 
 " But couldn't you buy it back ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but mother would feel " 
 
 "Well, it does not happen to be necessary. You 
 interrupt me so that I don't make any progress at 
 all." 
 
 " I promise I will not speak again," said I. 
 
 " Listen, then. This letter was filled with kindest 
 wishes for your speedy restoration to health, and 
 expressed the hope that you would soon be able to come 
 back to your old home and live near your friends. With 
 this letter came a deed of transfer from Edith, turning 
 over to your mother all the property which, by fore- 
 closure, passed from the hands of your father into the 
 possession of Edith's father. What do you think of 
 that, sir ?" Mary concluded, with a smile. 
 
 " I do not know what to think of it, my dear, except 
 that God has been very good to us and that we have 
 
 very much to be thankful for." 
 
 ******* 
 
 Careful nursing hastened my recovery, and in six 
 months from the date of the surgical operation which 
 restored me to consciousness I stood with Mary at the 
 altar, from which we went forth into the world as hus- 
 band and wife. 
 
 In good time Mary and I and mother returned to
 
 274 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 Waytown, where a series of pleasant surprises awaited 
 us. As the train rolled into the station I caught sight 
 of Captain Hartees with his wife Edith. Near by 
 I also saw Dick Wentworth, the old station agent, and 
 Billy Green. There, too, were big Joe Bentley and 
 little Tommy Atkins, with a host of other old-time, 
 familiar faces. 
 
 I also noticed that the station itself was decorated 
 with bunting and flags. 
 
 As we stepped from the cars to the platform a salute 
 was being fired in a neighboring field, and we were at 
 once surrounded by loving friends, who gave us a royal 
 welcome home. 
 
 What it all meant, what mother or Mary or I had 
 done to entitle us to such a reception, or why the air 
 was at this moment vibrating with patriotic music 
 from the village band, I confess was beyond me to 
 explain. 
 
 Carriages awaited us, in which, preceded by the band 
 and follqwed by a crowd of villagers, we rode to the 
 Waytown Arms, also gayly decked .with flags and 
 bunting. 
 
 At the tavern door we were received by the select 
 men of the town, by whom we were conducted to the 
 parlors, where a public reception was held. Here, 
 every one seemed anxious to take me by the hand and 
 offer me a word of congratulation though it appeared, 
 considering the fact that I had been only a humble 
 private in the army, and was now only a citizen return- 
 ing to the home of his boyhood, that my friends were 
 making a greater demonstration over the event than 
 my record or position would seem to warrant. 
 
 Mary, mother and I stood in one corner of the big 
 double parlors, with Captain Hartees, his wife, the
 
 THE GUN-BEARER. 275 
 
 selectmen close by, and the villagers with extended 
 hands and words of welcome passing before us. 
 
 At last the handshaking was finished, and the 
 people all who could be accommodated in the parlors 
 stood waiting, expectantly, as if there was something 
 yet to be accomplished or said of which they desired to 
 be listeners and observers. 
 
 To me it was an instant of awkward pause, for I 
 could not anticipate what was coming ; but it was only 
 for an instant, when Bert Smith, chairman of the 
 selectmen, armed with an official-looking document, 
 stepped in front of, and, in his most impressive manner, 
 said : 
 
 " My brother, no doubt you have been surprised at 
 the reception which has greeted your arrival home, 
 and, perhaps, you have wondered not a little what it 
 was all about. I do not know that I can offer a better 
 explanation than to say that Waytown is happy this 
 day to do honor to one of its heroes. At a meeting 
 held in Town Hall, some months since, celebrating the 
 close of war and the return of our brave sons, many 
 of them scarred and maimed from Southern battle- 
 fields, our beloved citizen, Captain Hartees, had some- 
 thing to offer in eulogy of what Waytown had done 
 during the war, and there described the bravery ex- 
 hibited at the Battle of Franklin by the son whom it is 
 our delight to honor to-day. Words of mine cannot 
 fitly describe the period of anxious waiting for the 
 weekly reports that came to us during the weary 
 months of your unconsciousness, nor can I express 
 the joy we felt on learning the result of the surgical 
 skill which restored your reason. We rejoiced that the 
 lost was found, that the dead had been made alive 
 again, and it now becomes my pleasure to hand you a
 
 276 THE GUN-BEARER. 
 
 medal of honor, presented by an act of Congress for 
 gallantry and personal valor to Daniel Nichols, private 
 Company D, Twelfth Kentucky Volunteers, at the 
 Battle of Franklin, Tennessee, November 30, 1864. Wear 
 it, as you alone can wear it, ever remembering, my 
 brother, that while the United States may reward with 
 medals the devotion and bravery of its loyal sons, 
 Waytown will cherish in its heart of hearts a love 
 for its heroes which can never grow dim and can never 
 pass away." 
 
 As I took the medal in my hand, cheer upon cheer 
 went up from the assembled villagers, and I, with a 
 heart too full for utterance, could only feebly express 
 in words the gratitude I felt for the honors bestowed 
 upon me. 
 
 A banquet, such as the Waytown Arms had never 
 before found occasion to spread was then served, and 
 thus closed the experiences of an eventful day. 
 
 Years afterward, I attended a reunion of the Twelfth 
 Kentucky at Louisville, and there met my cousin Fred, 
 Nick Searle and Jake Bence. Black Lige also put in 
 an appearance and was immediately taken charge of 
 by Captain Hartees who succeeded in persuading his 
 faithful servant of the past to return with him to 
 Waytown. 
 
 Many and cordial were the greetings exchanged at 
 that reunion ; and when, at its close, the comrades sepa- 
 rated to go their different ways, as if in answer to the 
 question I asked myself, " how many of us shall ever 
 meet again," Black Lige sang softly, 
 
 " Nebber min' de wedder so de win' don' blow, 
 Don' yer bodder 'bout yer trouble till it comes." , 
 
 THE END.
 
 A German Detective Novel. 
 
 THE TELL-TALE WATCH 
 
 (Der Lebende hat Recht.) 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF 
 
 GEORGE HOCKER 
 
 BY 
 
 META DE VERE. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS JOY JAMES FAQ AN. 
 
 12mo. 350 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 This story is based upon a thrilling tragedy in real life, which 
 created a sensation in Germany, and which in the form of a novel 
 is equally thrilling and interesting. German novels are usually 
 quiet and domestic, and while interesting and charming, are sel- 
 dom exciting or dramatic. " The Tell-Tale Watch " is both, and 
 will satisfy the taste for a mystery which, in the beginning, seems 
 almost unfathomable. It is a strange story with an original plot, 
 and one which will cause difference of opinion, as the sympathy 
 of the reader is excited in favor of one character or another. It 
 is not a story which any one who reads will consider dull. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK,
 
 An American Novel. 
 
 HETTY, OR THE OLD GRUDGE 
 
 BY 
 
 J. H. CONNELLY. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY E, WHITNEY. 
 
 12mo. 300 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 This is a careful study of life and experience in a primitive 
 American village. The characters are simple, strong and adven- 
 turous. When moved by strong passion, they act with a force 
 and directness impossible to people bred in the complex circum- 
 stances and influences of the conventional life and society of 
 cities. There are sweetness and charm in the portraiture of this 
 heroine of the woods and fields. The exciting incidents which 
 mark the progress and climax of the story only serve to empha- 
 size the beauty and truth which the author has wrought into the 
 substance of her character. Mr. Connelly is one of our most con- 
 scientious American writers and one who is destined to enjoy 
 fame and popularity. Nothing weak or disappointing ever comes 
 from his pen, and we can recommend his work to all who wish to 
 read an excellent novel. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
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 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK.
 
 An American Society Novel. 
 
 GIRLS OF A FEATHER. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. AMELIA E. BARR, 
 
 Author of "The Beads of Tasmer," "The Mate of the 'Easter 
 
 ell,'" "Friend Olivia," "The Household of 
 
 McNeil," "A Sister to Esau," etc, 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. BY MEREDITH NUGENT. 
 
 12mo. 366 pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.25. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 Nothing could be more timely, nothing could be more charm- 
 ing, than this exquisite book. A society novel by Mrs. Barr will 
 excite widespread interest and curiosity. " Girls of a Feather " 
 has the freshness of a May morning in its atmosphere and the 
 form and color of June in its beautiful pictures of womanhood. It 
 is a delightful successor to " The Bow of Orange Ribbon," and 
 readers will find in it a lightness of touch and maturity of power 
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 anything which she has ever done before, and will rank with the 
 best literature of the period. Large, new type is used, and the 
 appearance of the book is very attractive. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
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 An Entertaining Book. 
 
 A PRIESTESS OF COMEDY. 
 
 (COMODIE.) 
 
 BY 
 
 NATALY VON ESCHSTRUTH. 
 
 Translated from the German by Elise L. Lathrop. 
 ILLUSTRATED BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 
 
 12mo. 312 Papes. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.25. 
 Paper Cover, 5O Cents. 
 
 This splendid novel first appeared in this country in the original 
 German in the New York Staats-Zeitung. The publication in 
 English is by arrangement with the Staats-Zeitung. It is a novel 
 of unusual excellence, conforming to the best models of literary 
 art, full of tragic interest, lightened by strokes of pure comedy, 
 and abounding in admirable sketches of modern society. No re- 
 cent novel has appeared in Germany which has attracted more 
 interest and favorable comment from the best judges. The title 
 is thoroughly descriptive of the book. The heroine is an original 
 and interesting character. The author is one of the most popular 
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 A New Novel by E. Werner. 
 
 A Lover From Across the Sea. 
 
 BY 
 
 E. WERNER. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY 
 
 MARY J. SAFFORD. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY VICTOR FERARD AND H. If. EATON. 
 
 12mo. 300 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 E. Werner is the author of more popular novels than any 
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 her sisters, who have made the German domestic love-story one 
 of the most agreeable and familiar to American readers. These 
 stories are always pure, interesting and popular. "A Lover 
 from Across the Sea " is a fresh story, never before translated, 
 and better adapted for republication here than any German novel 
 which we can recall. It is one of the author's shorter novels, and 
 the volume is enlarged by the addition of another new story by 
 E. Werner, entitled " In the Hands of the Enemy," of the same 
 general character and equally interesting. The illustrations of 
 these stories add very much to the value and beauty of the book. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM ANP SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK,
 
 A Charming Novel. 
 
 HEARTS AND CORONETS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 WHO'S THE NOBLE? 
 
 BY 
 
 JANE G. FULLER. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ARTHUR LUSfLEY. 
 
 12mo. 347 Pag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 "Hearts and Coronets" is a novel in which rank and wealth 
 are contrasted with the plainer elements of social life, and are 
 shown to be no bar to truth, purity and affection. The plot is 
 extremely good, and appeals strongly to every mother who has 
 ever looked upon a lovely child in the cradle and considered the 
 possibility of its being suddenly snatched away and its fate re- 
 maining for years a sealed book. There are possibilities in life 
 more strange and surprising than any of the inventions of the 
 novelist, and this story, like many others which strike the reader 
 as improbable, is founded on fact. It is a deeply interesting nar- 
 rative, with many delightful pictures of domestic life and woman's 
 experience. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK.
 
 A New Translation from Balzac. 
 
 LOVE 
 
 (L' Envers de 1' Histoire Contemporaine.) 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH OF 
 
 HONORE DE BALZAC. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 FRANCIS H. SHEPPARD, U. S. N, 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. A. CARTER. 
 
 12mo. 300 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 This is an admirable translation of one of the most refined and 
 spiritual books in any language. It deals with love, but that great 
 passion is embodied in the souls of men and women who suffered 
 the great trials and afflictions which overtook the victims of the 
 first French Revolution. The principal characters belong to the 
 old aristocracy of France, who escaped only with their lives, to 
 enact the role of ministers of charity in the very place where had 
 stood the guillotine, and to the people who had clamored for their 
 blood. This novel should be read in connection with " The 
 Country Doctor," as it is written on the same general lines, al- 
 though it reaches a greater moral altitude, and portrays more in- 
 tense and tragic circumstances. No one can possibly understand 
 Balzac without reading this story. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK.
 
 Mrs. Southworth's Best Novels. 
 
 ONLY A GIRL'S HEART, 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH. 
 
 THE REJECTED BRIDE, 
 
 Being "Only a Girl's Heart," Second Series. 
 
 GERTRUDE HADDON, 
 
 Being "Only a Girl's Heart," Third Series. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH, 
 
 ALL THREE ILLUSTRATED J3Y HUGH M. EATON. 
 
 12mo. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00 each. Paper 
 Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 The three novels above named are all connected by a thread 
 of story and deal with the same characters. The series reads 
 continuously and is essentially one novel, although each book 
 forms more or less a distinct narrative. The interest of the first 
 novel is carried forward with increasing power until the close of 
 the third. Few authors, living or dead, have swayed so wide an 
 influence or held readers with a more sovereign power than this 
 delightful novelist. Many readers are gratified to meet their old 
 acquaintances in the successive books of a favorite author. F. 
 Marion Crawford owes a great deal of his popularity to the 
 Roman family of the Saracinesca, whose fortunes in succeeding 
 generations are told in his novels. So this series by Mrs. South- 
 worth will furnish a whole winter's reading to her admirers, and 
 all about the same people. The illustrations of these novels add 
 very much to their beauty and interest. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK,
 
 A New Novel by the Author of " A Priestess 
 of Comedy." 
 
 COUNTESS DYNAR; 
 
 OR, 
 
 POLISH BLOOD. 
 
 BY 
 
 NATALY VON ESCHSTRUTH, 
 
 Author of"A Priestess of Comedy," " A Princess of the Stage," 
 
 etc. 
 
 WITS ILLUSTRATIONS BY JAMES FAG AN. 
 
 12mo. 367 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.25. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 Nataly von Eschstruth's novels are full of romantic sentiment 
 that takes one completely out of the ordinary atmosphere and 
 situations of common life. There are a swing to her style, a con- 
 tagious enthusiasm and extravagance in her descriptions and a 
 freshness in the emotions and passions of her characters, which 
 command the attention, excite the feelings and absorb the in- 
 terest of every reader. All who have read the " Priestess of 
 Comedy" will appreciate the truth of what we say. "Countess 
 Dynar " is a book of most unusual beauty. The illustrations are 
 admirably illustrative of the scenes and characters. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK.
 
 An Interesting Novel. 
 
 A SLEEP-WALKER. 
 
 BY 
 
 PAUL H. GERRARD. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 
 
 12mo. 314 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 " A Sleep- Walker " is a novel of incident. As the title indicates, 
 complications arise from the doings of a fair somnambulist. In 
 the opening a mysterious woman is discovered in the act of throw- 
 ing a child into a reservoir. The fate of the child and the iden- 
 tity of the woman are matters upon which the plot of the story 
 turns. Much is involved, and a large number of persons inter- 
 ested, and a series of events transpire, all of which go to form a 
 dramatic story oi most sensational interest. The story is pub- 
 lished simultaneously in England and this country and is well 
 calculated to please readers in both countries. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK.
 
 A New Novel by Col. Enoz. 
 
 THE SIBERIAN EXILES. 
 
 BY 
 
 COL. THOMAS W. KNOX, 
 
 Author of " The Boy Travellers," " Overland Through Asia," 
 "Decisive Battles Since Waterloo" etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY VICTOR PERARD. 
 
 8vo. 355 pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $2.00. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 This is a novel of European and Asiatic Russia of our own 
 times. Reading it, one would think that it belonged to the Mid- 
 dle Ages, when men and women were remorselessly snatched 
 from their homes, sold into slavery, imprisoned, persecuted and 
 killed at the caprice oflocal despots or robber-barons. It tells of 
 the exile, without trial, of the head of a family, guiltless of any 
 crime or treason, simply upon suspicion. All the exertions of his 
 family and friends are powerless to save him from the terrors of 
 the Siberian exile and the life of a State prisoner in the mines. 
 Colonel Knox is familiar with the scenes and circumstances of the 
 people about whom he writes. He has travelled in Siberia, vis- 
 ited the mines and prisons, seen the prisoners at work, and he 
 gives a vivid picture of their life and sufferings. His novel is one 
 of the most interesting and pathetic narratives which has ever 
 been written of modern Russia, its government and people. The 
 edition in cloth binding is a large, handsome volume, with many 
 illustrations. It is also published in the Ledger Library in paper 
 covers, with five choice illustrations. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK.
 
 Julien Gordon's Novel from the German. 
 
 COUNTESS OBERNAU 
 
 AFTER THE GERMAN 
 BY 
 
 JULIEN GORDON, 
 
 Author of "A Diplomat's Diary " etc., etc. 
 
 WITH ILLV8TSATION8 BY JAMES FAGAN. 
 
 12mo. 281 Pages. Handsomely Bound in f loth. Price, $1.25. 
 Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 
 
 Julien Gordon's novels possess superb studies of character and 
 fresh and unhackneyed incidents merits which have rendered 
 them popular. These qualities will also be found in "Countess 
 Obernau," which she has adapted from the German, and which 
 is quite equal to any of her books. Countess Obernau is a woman 
 who possesses a rare charm of individuality. She has refinement 
 and exquisite sensibilities joined to an artistic temperament. 
 There is a mystery in her life, and her independent character and 
 Bohemian tendencies invest all her movements with interest to 
 curious observers. The charm of her individuality fascinates all, 
 and at least two are ready to die for her. The interest of the 
 novel is all centered in this character. 
 
 For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
 on receipt of price, by the publishers, 
 
 ROBERT BONNER'S SONS, 
 COR. WILLIAM AND SPRUCE STREETS, NEW YORK,