THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 

 {^f. lo, /T/ 
 
 ^ 
 
C H I C K A M A U G A 
 
 A ROMANCE 
 
 AMERICAN CIVIL WAR 
 
 BY 
 
 F. A. MITCHEL 
 
 LATE U. S. A. 
 
 Author of "Chattanooga 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE STAR BOOK COMPANY 
 20? Broadway 
 
Copyrighted, iE 
 
 F. A. MITCHEL. 
 
 All rights rescrvctl. 
 
 THE MERSHON COMPANY PREbS, 
 RAHWAY, N. J. 
 
N. B. — As in " Chattanooga," while the present 
 story is purely one of love and adventure, the 
 dates, topography, location and movements of 
 troops referred to are given correctly. The 
 events pertaining to the battle of Chickamauga 
 are as nearly correct as a careful study of dif- 
 ferent records has enabled me to judge of 
 
 them. 
 
 F. A. M. 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/chickamaugaromanOOmitc 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. Opening of the Campaign, . . . . i 
 
 II. A War of Wits I3 
 
 III. A Devoted Confederate 23 
 
 IV. A Guerrilla's Home, .... 38 
 V. Carrying the News, 5i 
 
 VI. TULLAHOMA 60 
 
 VII. Old Friends Meet 69 
 
 VIII. Jakey Enters the Army, ... 81 
 
 IX. Cipher Dispatches 91 
 
 X. A Promise Soon Broken, ... 103 
 
 XI. A Race for Life, no 
 
 XII. A Changed Enemy, .... 124 
 
 XIII. " Turned Over." i33 
 
 XIV. An Unwelcome Prisoner, ... 142 
 
 XV. Tried, 151 
 
 XVI. You Shall Not Die 162 
 
 XVII. Ratigan's Mission, 170 
 
 XVIII. A Strange Meeting 180 
 
 V 
 
 527098 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XIX. In the Shadow of Death, , . . 187 
 
 XX. The Darkest Hour, .... 196 
 
 XXI. A Military Problem, .... 204 
 
 XXII. Jakey's Announcement 213 
 
 XXIII. The First Gun at Chickamauga, . . 220 
 
 XXIV. The Nineteenth of Septemrf.r, . . 229 
 XXV. The Coming of the Reserve, . , . 238 
 
 XXVI. Storming the Ridge, .... 250 
 
 XXVII. An Important I,etter, .... 259 
 
 XXVIII. The Choice of a Post, .... 269 
 
 XXI.X. Punishment and Reward 273 
 
 XXX. A Singular Ceremony, .... 281 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 OPENING OF A CAMPAIGN. 
 
 THE Army of the Cumberland is awakening. For 
 months its thirty miles of torpid length have been 
 marked by clusters of white tents like the rings of 
 a gigantic anaconda. But now there is an arousing 
 from its long period of lethargy. The tents are being 
 struck, the men are stuffing knapsacks, rolling 
 blankets, or swallowing from tin cups a last draught 
 of invigorating coffee. Wagons are being loaded with 
 all kinds of camp equipage — tents, camp cots, cooking 
 utensils, the pine tables and army desks of the staff 
 departments. Here orderlies are holding horses, 
 waiting their riders, and there men are strapping 
 blankets or ponchos behind saddles, or cramming 
 bacon and "hard tack" into haversacks, while strik- 
 ers empty the contents of the demijohn into canteens. 
 Each regiment, as soon as formed, moves out into the 
 road, the whole taking up the line of march by 
 brigades and divisions. 
 
 It is the right, or head of the monster, that awakens 
 
2 • CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 first. The main body of this wing moves diagonally 
 toward the front and left, while cavalry pushes 
 directly south to conceal the movement and produce 
 a false impression on the enemy. All day the infan- 
 try and artillery work their way over dirt roads, the men 
 marching at will, smoking, chatting, laughing; the 
 Irish regiments cracking jokes, the Germans singing; 
 all with that esprit which pervades an army just start- 
 ing, after a long period of idleness, on a new cam- 
 paign. A lasliing of artillery horses, a cursing of 
 mules, words of command, bugle calls, picket firing, 
 the occasional boom of a gun, mingle confusedly, and 
 in a country used only to the peaceful lowing of cat- 
 tle or the songs of birds. 
 
 So stream those men of the right, guns, caissons, 
 horses, mules, wagons, all day long till the sun goes 
 down. Then a halt is called, followed by the smell of 
 burning wood from myriads of camp fires, the odor of 
 coffee, the sizzle of bacon; while along the front is 
 heard the cracking of rifles on the picket line. 
 
 At midnight the right is in bivouac; the center and 
 left still slumber in long rows of tents on avenues 
 bordered with evergreens, the accumulation of a long 
 continued rest in one place. But this is not the mid- 
 night of headquarters. There, all is in motion. Be- 
 fore the house of the commanding general at Mur- 
 freesboro leaders of corps and divisions are mounting 
 or dismounting, either having received or about to 
 receive their dispositions. Staff officers are coming 
 and going with verbal messages, while couriers are 
 flying hither and thither with dispatches. Through 
 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 3 
 
 a murky night the stream of comers and goers flows 
 on incessantly. During the small hours a group of 
 staff officers on duty, yet for the time being unem- 
 ployed, gather about a piano while one of their num- 
 ber sings inspiriting songs. 
 
 At break of day many a soldier is still slumbering 
 peacefully whose fitful sleep, for months to come, will 
 be haunted by dreams of toilsome marches through 
 mud and rain, of shrieking shells and pinging bullets, 
 of Union cheers and "rebel yells"; all tinged with 
 contrasting visions of home. At six o'clock on the 
 center and left are heard the clear, sharp tones of a 
 bugle. There is a movement in the army of sleepers. 
 Masses of men pour from the tents, and swarm in the 
 avenues. Successive bursts of cheering, like billows 
 beating on an ocean coast, sweep the line of camps. 
 The mist of canvas rocks unsteadily in the early 
 shadows, then melts before the day. Throughout its 
 whole length the Army of the Cumberland is in 
 motion, advancing on that campaign which is to 
 maneuver the Confederates out of Tennessee and 
 lead up to the battle of Chickamauga. 
 
 On a road running parallel with the Cumberland 
 Mountains, which flank the Union army on its left, a 
 strange-looking vehicle is going at a breakneck pace 
 toward the south. The horse is a rawboned animal 
 with long legs and neck, while the vehicle — a buggy — 
 is so bespattered with mud that what paint remains on 
 it is invisible. The bottom is partly gone; the dash- 
 board would let through a cannon ball without being 
 injured; the springs are badly bent; the top, which 
 
4 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 is let down, — there are no props to hold it up, — is 
 shriveled and torn, its tatters flying behind in the 
 wind. A woman in a striped calico dress, a sunbon- 
 net of the same material, a pair of colored spectacles 
 on her nose, holds the reins and urges forward the 
 horse. Yet strange looking as is the conveyance and 
 its occupant, for that time and region there is nothing 
 unusual in the appearance of either. The country 
 people inhabiting that portion of Tennessee are not 
 cultured, and uncouthness is rather the rule than the 
 exception. 
 
 Coming to a place where she can get a full view for 
 some distance ahead, the woman glances over the in- 
 tervening space between her and the next rise in the 
 undulating ground. Seeing nothing to deter, she 
 drives her horse on as rapidly as she can force him to 
 go. Her buggy careens till it is in danger of going 
 over; she is bounced from her seat with a prospect of 
 being sent over the dashboard ; the mud flies, the 
 horse wheezes, the buggy groans, but there is no 
 slackening of pace. 
 
 "Go on, Bobby, go on!" 
 
 Turning a curve in the road partly hidden by trees, 
 she sees a cavalry camp ahead. In the road an officer 
 stands talking to a man in a farm wagon, beside whom 
 on a board seat, its two ends resting on the wagon's 
 sides, sits a boy of fourteen; while on a back seat, evi- 
 dently borrowed from a more pretentious vehicle, is a 
 young girl, perhaps three or four years the boy's 
 senior. 
 
 The woman of the striped dress drove up to the 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 5 
 
 group and, drawing rein, listened to what they were 
 saying. 
 
 "Cap," said the farmer — all officers in the Union 
 army were called by the people of the country either 
 Cap or Gineral or mister — "Cap, I want ter go 
 through the lines powerful bad." 
 
 "Well, I'm thinkin', me good man," replied the 
 ofificer with the brogue of an Irishman, "that's exactly 
 what old Rosey wants to do; unless he prefers to get 
 behind 'em and bag 'em from th' rear." 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean fightin'. I wants ter go hum 
 peaceful." 
 
 "Can't pass ye, me good man. Oi've orders not to 
 pass anyone south while the army is mooven. There's 
 no need to be tellin' ye that all day. Once ought to 
 he sufficient." 
 
 "What's thet?" cried a shrill voice from the buggy. 
 "V don't mean fo' ter tell me I can't go hum?" 
 
 "I fear, me dear leddy, that ye can't, if ye live be- 
 yond our lines." 
 
 "H'm. And so you'uns hev kem down hyar ter 
 make war on women." 
 
 "Well now, that depends on the kind of war. 
 We've come down vi et arviis as me old preceptor at 
 the university used to say — God bless 'im. Like 
 enough the zn is for the men and the annis for the 
 women." 
 
 "I don't keer," replied the woman. "You'uns 
 hain't got no business fo' ter come down hyar nohow. 
 You're a mis'able set o' black abolishioners. I'm a 
 gal 'thout nothin' ter fight with and you'uns " 
 
6 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 "Beauty and the beast," interrupted the officer, 
 bowing. 
 
 "Now see hyar, Mr. Yank, I got ter go hum. Pop 
 he's away, and mother she's sick in bed." 
 The officer scratched his head and thought. , 
 
 "Well, me friends," he said presently, "Oi'm 
 thinkin' O'll refer the case of all of yez to brigade 
 headquarters. Would ye moind sittin' where ye are 
 till I get an answer?" 
 
 "Reckon not," from the farmer. 
 
 "Hurry up," said the woman iii the buggy. 
 "Mother's waitin' fo' me." 
 
 The officer stepped into his tent near by and came 
 out with a pencil and the back of an old letter. With 
 these he proceeded to take down the information 
 required. Approaching the buggy he said: 
 
 "Will ye plaze favor me with your patronymic" — 
 he paused while he looked to see if she were young 
 or old — "miss?" 
 
 "My what?" 
 
 "Your patronymic." 
 
 "Oh, talk Tennessee." 
 
 "Well, then, your cognomen." 
 
 "See hyar, Mr. Officer, ef y' want ter git anything 
 outen me, y' want to talk squar. " 
 
 "Please tell me your name." 
 
 "Betsy Baggs. 'N yours?" 
 
 "Major Burke, at your service. Are ye Union 
 or " 
 
 '' Rebel r' 
 
 "Where do ye want to go?" 
 
CHICK AM A VGA. j 
 
 "Hum." 
 
 "And that is at ?*' 
 
 "Dunlap." 
 
 "Why are ye here?" 
 
 "I been ter MacMinnville ter see mother's old 
 doctor." 
 
 "There's a shorter road from MacMinnville than 
 this; why didn't ye take it?" 
 
 The girl showed a slight confusion. 
 
 "Oh, I got a friend at Franklin College. She'uns 
 'n I'uns alius ben powerful thick." 
 
 After getting the data as to all the party the major 
 called a mounted man and directed him to take it to 
 headquarters and ask for instructions. 
 
 "Do ye know who to take it to?" he asked of the 
 man as he was about to ride away. 
 
 "It's to the gineral I'm takin' it." 
 
 "The gineral? Man, would you get me court mar- 
 tialed for disregard of the regulations? Take it to the 
 chafe o' staff, ye lunkhead, and from him ye'll get the 
 answer. It's not the loikes o' you can approach the 
 gineral. Moind now, and don't spind the time talk- 
 in' with the guard." 
 
 While the messenger was away the party listened to 
 the voluble tongue of the young Confederate symi)a- 
 thizer in the buggy. She entered into the causes of 
 the war, depicted the benefits of negro slavery, espe- 
 cially on the slave, spoke admiringly of all Confeder- 
 ate soldiers, and ransacked the dictionary to find words 
 to express her loathing of Yankees. 
 
 "Come now. Miss Baggs, " said the major good- 
 
S CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 naluredly. "There's a young fellow in me regiment 
 who'll suit ye exactly. He is an Oirishman from the 
 crown of his head to the sole of his fut. He only 
 came over a few years ago. He is as smart as a whip. 
 There was but one gurrel in County Cavan who could 
 outtalk 'im. That's the reason he left Oirland." 
 
 "When I want a man I reckon I can find one right 
 hyar outen the yarth o' Tennessee, 'thout goin' to 
 Oirland \.tx find one. Is he red-headed?" 
 
 "Red as the linin' of an artillery officer's cape." 
 
 "What kind o' eyes?" 
 
 "Blue as a robin's egg." 
 
 "Wal, trot him out; I'll take a look at him." 
 
 "Oi'll call him meself," and the major went into 
 one of the tents. There he found Corporal Ratigan, 
 the man he sought. 
 
 "Corporal Rats," he said — everyone called the cor- 
 poral "Rats" — "there's a gurrel out there that wants 
 to go through the lines. Oi've sent to brigade head- 
 quarters to find out if they'll give her a pass. I want 
 you to make her acquaintance." 
 
 "At your service, major," said the corporal, salut- 
 ing. And the two walked out to where the travelers 
 were waiting. 
 
 "Miss Baggs," said the major, "allow me to pre- 
 sint Corporal Ratigan, commonly called 'Rats' by his 
 comrades, one of the most gallant men in the regi- 
 ment." 
 
 Corporal Ratigan bowed and uncovered a head of 
 hair fully up to the major's description of it. It sur- 
 mounted one of the most honest of countenances. 
 
CHICK AM A VGA. 9 
 
 There was an air of gentility about the man despite 
 his private's uniform, and the smile with which he 
 greeted the young woman could not have been more 
 bewitching had he saluted a marchioness. Admira- 
 tion for the strapping Irish- Yankee soldier stood big 
 in Miss Bagg's eyes. 
 
 "How'de," she said, with something that was in- 
 tended for a bow. "Yer a purty likely lookin' feller 
 ef y' air playin' Yank. Y'd better a stayed in Oir- 
 /and than come down hyar to make war on women." 
 
 "And have I overpainted the beautiful tint of his 
 hair?" asked the major, laughing. 
 
 "It'd make good winter har; needn't hev no fire in 
 th' house." 
 
 Horses' hoofs were heard down the road, and in a 
 few minutes the messenger who had been sent to head- 
 quarters rode up. 
 
 "Where's the answer?" asked the major. 
 
 "Divil an answer did I get, major," said the man, 
 saluting awkwardly. 
 
 "And what d'ye mean by that?" 
 
 "Well, I kem up to headquarthers and the gineral 
 was gettin' off of his harse to go in his tint. 'Have 
 ye anythin' for me, me man?' he asked. 'Niver a 
 worrud, gineral,' I answered, salutin' respectful. 
 'What's the paper ye have in your belt?' 'It's for the 
 chafe o' staff.' 'Well, give it to me.' 'Divil a bit, 
 gineral; it's not for the loikes o' me to be givin' yez 
 a paper. Oi'm instructed to give it to the chafe o' 
 staff.' 'Give me the paper, you cussed ©irishman,' he 
 said, 'or Oi'U sind ye to the guard tint.' 'Niver will 
 
10 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 I be guilty of breakin' the Regulations or the Articles 
 of War, gineral.' 'Corporal o' the guard!' yelled the 
 gineral. 
 
 "The corporal kem and saluted the gineral, him 
 red as Corporal Ratigan's head. 'Take that paper 
 from that man,' he roared. Well, bein' surrounded 
 by the guard who were at the corporal's call I sur- 
 rendered." 
 
 "And thin?" gasped the major, glaring at the stupid 
 messenger. 
 
 "And thin the gineral said, 'Go to your camp and 
 tell Major Burke to put y' in the guard tint for twenty- 
 four hours. And whin he sinds another orderly to me 
 not to sind a recruit, or I'll put him in arrest.' " 
 
 "BytheHowly Ye infernal, raw Did ye 
 
 get no answer?" 
 
 " 'Oi'll sind an answer by a soldier who has been 
 properly trained,' said the gineral. Didn't ye tell me 
 right, major?" 
 
 "Corporal o' the guard!" cried the major, by way 
 of reply. 
 
 "Take that man," he said, when the corporal came, 
 "to the guard tent." 
 
 As the messenger was marched away, protesting 
 against the injustice of his treatment for obeying 
 orders, a staff officer rode up. Taking the major apart, 
 he instructed him to let the applicants go through, 
 provided they would take an oath not to give any in- 
 formation concerning the Union troops to the enemy. 
 With the passes he brought a suggestion from the gen- 
 eral to send some person with one or the other of the 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 1 
 
 two parties under pretense of an escort, but really 
 with a view to discovering the proximity of the enemy. 
 Now that the main army was moving it might be well 
 to discover if the cavalry on its flank had fallen back. 
 The ground was unfavorable for a reconnoissance, 
 hence the suggestion to get tl'^f information by strate- 
 gem. 
 
 The major hunted the camp for a Bible on which 
 to administer the oath, and called on Corporal Ratigan 
 to help him. He explained the general's request and 
 told Ratigan that he wanted him to go with Miss Baggs. 
 Having given the corporal a full understanding of 
 what was required of him he went back to the party 
 with a Bible, followed by Ratigan. 
 
 The farmer and his family were first sworn, and 
 then the major offered to swear Miss Baggs. 
 
 "I hain't goin' t' do no swearin'," she said defi- 
 antly. 
 
 "Oi'm glad to hear that," remarked Corporal Rati- 
 gan. 
 
 "What fo', fire top?" she asked, surprised. 
 
 "I'd be breakin' me heart at partin' with ye." 
 
 "Y' hain't got no heart nohow, or y' wouldn't be in 
 th' Yankee army." 
 
 "Don't ye believe it." exclaimed the major, "his 
 heart's as warrum as the color of his hair. Come, 
 young leddy, take the oath. I'd be sorry to be part- 
 in' ye from your mother, and she sufferin'." 
 
 "I won't." 
 
 "Won't ye take it for inoi sake ? " queried Ratigan 
 with a mock appeal. 
 
12 CHICK AM A VGA. 
 
 "Y'll hev ter git some 'un uglier'n you'uns ter move 
 me. I hanker after ugly men, but you'uns ain't quite 
 ugly enough fo' me." 
 
 "Nowye're talkin' with a seductive tongue," quoth 
 Ratigan. "If the major will permit Oi've a mind to 
 see ye through the line* meself without the oath." 
 
 The corporal looked slyly at the major and the 
 major returned the corporal's sly glance. 
 
 *'Very well," said Burke. "You go with her, and 
 moind that she isn't keepin' her ois open to see things 
 for Gineral Bragg's benefit. Miss Baggs, if ye'll just 
 keep lookin' roit into the corporal's blue arbs ye'll get 
 through all right, and if ye're tempted to look aside 
 just fix 'em on his head and ye'll be blinded." 
 
 The corporal went for his horse, buckled on his 
 revolver, and coming back started out to play diplo- 
 mat; in other words to acquire knowledge by strategy. 
 
II. 
 
 A WAR OF WITS. 
 
 pORPORAL RATIGAN rode gallantly beside Miss 
 \y Baggs, the t'.vo keeping up a constant picket firing 
 which occasionally warmed to the dignity of a skir- 
 mish. Miss Baggs was in an excellent humor, and the 
 corporal quite delighted at the role he was playing. 
 He pretended to watch her carefully whenever any- 
 thing belonging to the army was passed on the road, 
 while he was secretly forming his plans for getting far 
 enough on the way to determine the proximity of the 
 enemy. He felt no suspicion as to Miss Baggs carry- 
 ing information. Being on the flank of the army she 
 would not be likely to have much information to carry. 
 The country people were constantly passing between 
 the lines, and considering their harrowiii'T excuses no 
 one except with a heart of stone could well prevent 
 them. 
 
 "What's in the box ye have with ye?'' asked R::ti- 
 gan, looking at a square little box on the seat beside 
 her. It had been covered with a shawl, which had 
 fallen from over it, exposing it to view. 
 
 "Thet? Thet's a jihilosophy machine. Y' see my 
 friend, Sal Glassick, she knows a heap o' things. 
 She's tryen ter beat some on 'em inter my pore noddle. 
 Reckon she won't hev no easy time." 
 
 13 
 
t4 chickamaUga. 
 
 "What branch does she teach ye with that?" 
 
 "VVal, ye see mother she's sufferin' with palsy, 'n 
 this hyar box is a — wal, Sal, she calls it a gal — 
 gal " 
 
 "Galvanic battery?" 
 
 "Thet's it. Y' hit it right thar. A galvanic bat- 
 tery. We'uns 're goen ter try 't on mother. Lord- 
 a-massy, what's thet?" 
 
 She directed his attention from the box to a cloud 
 of smoke hanging over the gaps in the hills far to the 
 west. They were crossing a mountain spur and could 
 see it quite plainly. 
 
 "There's foightin' goen on there," remarked the 
 corporal. 
 
 " 'N you'uns air gitten licked," observed the re- 
 bellious Miss Baggs. 
 
 "How d'ye know that?" asked Ratigan, surprised 
 that she should know anything about it. 
 
 "Oh, I reckon." 
 
 "It's a quare thing, the reckonen ov gurrels." 
 
 "Wal, ye see women hain't got the big heads men 
 hev. Th' can't reason things out. They hev t' jump 
 at 'em, mebbe, like ants. Ants is powerful small, but 
 they're most times right when they reckon." 
 
 Ratigan made no reply. He was thinking that Miss 
 Baggs did not appear to be so plain a personage as he 
 at first thought her. He looked at her hands, encased 
 in coarse gloves, and noticed that they were small for 
 "poor white trash." Her attire was very cheap and 
 her cowhide shoes did not betoken refinement; but 
 somehow he began to gather a notion that Miss Baggs 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 5 
 
 was not so dreadfully common as she appeared. The 
 corporal came of an excellent family in his native land, 
 and under ordinary circumstances could detect refine- 
 ment. He looked for Miss Baggs to use some expres- 
 sion beyond the ken of a "poor white" girl, but she 
 did not. So he dismissed the matter from his mind 
 and began to wonder what excuse he could make to go 
 on with her under flag of truce when she should pass 
 the Union pickets. 
 
 "We'uns air goen slow enough ter worrit a snail," 
 remarked Miss Baggs. 
 
 "And why should we be goen faster?" 
 
 "Whar'd y' steal thet critter?" she asked, instead of 
 replying, looking sidewise at the corporal's mount. 
 "It's likely 'nuff fo' Tennessee blood." 
 
 "Oh! That's United States; don't you see the 
 'U. S.' branded on him?" 
 
 "Can he trot?" 
 
 "He can beat anything in the brigade." 
 
 "D'ye think he can trot with this hyar critter o' 
 mine." 
 
 Ratigan looked at her raw-boned brute and burst 
 into a laugh. 
 
 "Wal, now, you needn't take on so. Reckon I c'd 
 give y' a brush ef y' was minded." 
 
 "All right, me dear; here's a straight bit of road." 
 
 "Fo' what stakes?" 
 
 "A five-dollar greenback." 
 
 "Agin Confederate money?" 
 
 "With pleasure." 
 
 The corporal drew forth a crisp five-dollar bill. 
 
1 6 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 And Miss Baggs put the thumb and finger of one hand 
 in the palm of the other under her glove, and drew 
 out a Confederate shinplaster. 
 
 "Who holds the stakes?" asked the corporal glee- 
 fully. 
 
 "You'uns." 
 
 "Divil a bit. The lady shall hold 'em." 
 
 She took the bill he handed her and gave the lines 
 a jerk with a "git along thar!" "Remember, it's a 
 trottin' race." 
 
 Ratigan was at a disadvantage from the first. He 
 did not dare to use his spurs lest his horse should 
 break from a trot. Miss Baggs's animal began to reach 
 his lank legs out, triangulating in a lumbering fashion 
 that put him over the ground at no inconsiderable 
 speed. The corporal did his best and kept pace 
 pretty well. 
 
 "Reckon my 'Bob Lee' kin knock the stuffin' outen 
 your critter, Mr. sojer. Git up, Bob." 
 
 With that Bob increased the length of his triangula- 
 tions, increasing their frequency at the same time. 
 The result was that he carried the old buggy with 
 Betsy Baggs in it right away from the corporal. In- 
 deed, Ratigan fell behind steadily. If he should 
 break from a trot he would lose the race, if he should 
 keep up his trot he would lose Miss Baggs. 
 
 Suddenly an officer appeared on the road and re- 
 garding him sternly ordered him to halt. 
 
 "Oi'm followin' the young lady, sir. Oi'm on of- 
 
 cial business for the gineral, commandin' the th 
 
 cavalry brigade," 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 7 
 
 "Well, my man, you're a well-disciplined orderly ; 
 you keep the regulation forty paces to the rear. Give 
 your horse the spur and catch up." 
 
 Ratigan, who could not well explain to an officer 
 that he was running a race, and fearing to lose his 
 charge, gave his horse the spur and dashed after her 
 at a gallop. He reached her in a "blown" condition, 
 
 "Oi've lost," he cried, out of breath. 
 
 "Reckon y' have," was Miss Baggs's sole reply. 
 
 "The money's yours." 
 
 "Reckon it ar," repeated Miss Baggs. 
 
 "Yer always reckonen. Mebbe ye reckoned about 
 the end of the race loike the ant ye were talkin' 
 about." 
 
 At that moment they espied the outpost ahead. 
 
 "Wal, hyar we air," said Miss Baggs. "Don't 
 want t' part from you'uns, Mr. sojer. I'm powerful 
 bad struck hyar." And she put her hand on her 
 heart. 
 
 "Like enough Oi can find some reason to go on with 
 ye a bit. Oi'm all broken up meself, sure enough." 
 
 "I hopes y' kin." 
 
 "Lieutenant," said the corporal, saluting an officer 
 who came out from the picket post. "Major Burke 
 ordered me to see this young lady out of the lines. 
 She has a pass to Dunlap." 
 
 The lieutenant read the pass and told Miss Baggs 
 she might go through. 
 
 Ratigan was racking his brains to know what to do. 
 He had been instructed to go through with Miss 
 Baggs under some pretense, but his ingenuity when 
 
1 8 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 put to the test failed him. Miss Baggs came to his 
 relief. 
 
 "Mr. Corporal," she said, "I don't hanker ter part 
 'ith thet bloomen head o' har o' yourn. Would y' 
 mind seein' a pore lone woman ter th' Confederate 
 lines?" 
 
 The corporal whispered a few words in the lieuten- 
 ant's ear. The result was that in five minutes four 
 cavalry privates were placed under the corporal's 
 orders, who held in his hand a pole cut from a tree at 
 the side of the road, to which he had attached a white 
 cotton handkerchief. 
 
 Then the old buggy, which rattled at every turn of 
 the wheel and threatened to collapse at every mudhole, 
 proceeded down the road. Corporal Ratigan can- 
 tered alongside, while the four privates followed 
 directly in rear. 
 
 But a few miles had been traversed when a horse- 
 man — he proved to be the enemy's vedette — was seen 
 standing in the road ahead. As the party approached, 
 they saw a dozen more advancing to his support. But 
 the Confederates evidently saw the white flag, for no 
 other demonstration was made than the riding for- 
 ward of an officer with half a dozen men to meet those 
 who were advancing. 
 
 "What do you want?" asked the officer gruffly. 
 
 "Flag to see the lady to your lines." 
 
 ".Under a commissioned officer?" 
 
 "Only meself, a corporal," said Ratigan. 
 
 "Well, you can turn about pretty quick, and get 
 back to where you came from. The next such flag 
 
CHICK AMA UGA. i^ 
 
 sent out will be taken in and won't get out 
 again." 
 
 "Captain, don't you know me?" said Miss Baggs, 
 smiling at the officer. 
 
 "Well, upon my word. You don't mean " 
 
 Miss Baggs put her finger on her lip. 
 
 "These men came at my request," she continued, 
 "so I hope you will not find any fault." 
 
 The officer raised his hat, but said nothing. 
 
 "Good-morning, corporal," she said. "I'm much 
 obliged for your trouble." 
 
 "You're quite welcome, miss." 
 
 Both parties moved away simultaneously. They 
 had scarcely started before the corporal heard his 
 name spoken in a v/oman's voice, but one with which 
 he was not familiar. 
 
 "Rats!" 
 
 He turned and saw what must be Miss Baggs, for 
 her dress was the same, though the head and neck 
 were changed, standing in the buggy, her back to the 
 horse, her face directly toward him. Her glasses 
 were gone, her sunbonnet hung in one hand, while she 
 held the reins in the other. Never had the corporal 
 beheld so great a change in so brief a s];)ace of time. 
 The jolting had disarranged a mass of dark hair which 
 had partly fallen over her shoulders. Her eyes were 
 black and lustrous, her complexion an olive relieved 
 by a ruddiness on the cheek. Her superb head was 
 set on her neck as if it had been placed there by an 
 artist. The face was lighted by a smile of triumph — 
 a smile so bewitching that it haunted the corporal to 
 his dying day. 
 
20 chickamaugA. 
 
 Ratigan had not recovered from his surprise before 
 she spoke to him in a rich contralto voice, as little like 
 that he had heard from her as a fife is like the mellow 
 tones of an organ. 
 
 "Corporal, please present my compliments to Major 
 Burke and thank him for me for his kindness, and tell 
 hii"rt that when he sends another woman through the 
 lines under pretense of keeping her eyes shut, when 
 he has an especial purpose of his own in view, not to 
 send an Oirishma?i for an escort," The smile on her 
 lips broadened and showed a set of white teeth. 
 "The Oirish race as diplomats are not usually suc- 
 cessful. Au revoir, corporal." 
 
 There was a grin on the faces of the Confederate 
 lookers-on, and astonishment on the honest counte- 
 nance of Corporal Ratigan. 
 
 "And Rats," she continued, evidently enjoying 
 bringing out the word with her rich voice, as one loves 
 to roll old wine on the tongue, "when a woman de- 
 sires to race, it is not always for the money up." She 
 tossed the bill she had won toward him. 
 
 "And, Rats! don't race again with anyone with a 
 raw-boned animal with long legs. 'Bobby Lee* is 
 from the Blue Grass regions of Kentucky. There's 
 something wrong about his breathing apparatus, but 
 even with that disadvantage he can trot a mile over a 
 good road in 2.50." 
 
 Had Miss Baggs appeared less bewitching as she 
 stood there under the protection of half a dozen Con- 
 federate troopers, Ratigan would have turned away 
 impatiently. As it was, she seemed to hold him by a 
 spell. 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 2 1 
 
 "One thing more, my bonny cardinal flower. Tell 
 the major that I like 'the young man from County 
 Cavan' he has recommended tome, very much." Her 
 eyes fairly danced. "When the war is over I hope 
 you will look me up. Inquire for Betsy Baggs at the 
 St. Cloud Hotel, Nashville." 
 
 With this she threw him a kiss from the tips of her 
 fingers, which, now that her glove was removed, he 
 noticed were white and round. There was really 
 something sympathetic in the last glance she gave him. 
 In it was a regret tliat it had been necessary for her 
 to deceive so honest and manly a fellow. It was the 
 final dart that pierced the Irishman's heart and com- 
 pleted his enthrallment. 
 
 Leaving the corporal and his men gaping in the 
 road the party moved away. The last thing Ratigan 
 heard was a hoarse laugh from one of the Confederates, 
 which was rebuked by Miss Baggs and reprimanded 
 by the officer. 
 
 The corporal led his party northward in no good 
 humor. At the picket post he left the men he had 
 taken with him, and rode on alone meditatively. In 
 passing a part of the road where there was no one to 
 hear he reined in his horse and exclaimed aloud: 
 
 "Damn it! I believe the witch is carrying impor- 
 tant information." 
 
 The thought filled him with horror. Who was she? 
 What was she? What was the box she called a gal- 
 vanic battery? For more than an hour he had at- 
 tended a rude country girl, who when under the pro- 
 tection of Confederate officers, bloomed into a hand- 
 
2 2 CHICK AM A UGA . 
 
 some woman. He was as much chagrined at his own 
 stupidity as he was bewildered by the cunning of Miss 
 Baggs. 
 
 Entering camp he slunk away to his tent, and did 
 not report the outcome of his mission to Major Burke 
 till just before "taps." Then he only said: "Their 
 pickets are three miles down the road beyond ours." 
 
 "Are ye share?" 
 
 "Oi am. Oi left the young lady — Oi mean the 
 counthry gurrel — among 'em. And the vixen blew 
 me a kiss at parten." 
 
 "Ah, Rats, ye're a sly dog. Oi'm shure ye did 
 your work well." 
 
 "Major," replied the corporal, "don't ye believe it. 
 All the divils in hell if they be men are no match for 
 a woman." 
 
 "And if they be women, Rats?" 
 
 "Then God save 'em both." 
 
III. 
 
 A DEVOTED CONFEDERATE. 
 
 ON the morning of the general advance of the Army 
 of the Cumberland a drizzling rain set in which 
 lasted, at intervals, during the whole campaign. Day 
 after day the men tramped through the mire, often to 
 lie down at night with no means of lifting themselves 
 out of pools except by cutting the wet branches from 
 the trees, and on these making a bed in drenched 
 clothes. The artillery soon cut up the roads so that 
 the guns sank to the hubs of the wheels. The right 
 continued to march toward the left and in the direc- 
 tion of the base of the Cumberland plateau, where 
 Miss Betsy Baggs and the others were passing between 
 the lines. The Unionists were moving upon gaps in 
 the foot hills held by the Confederates, and necessary 
 to the latter to prevent their enemies getting on their 
 right, and thus compelling them to leave their fortifi- 
 cations at Tullahoma and fight on open ground. 
 
 It was the day that the Union men attacked these 
 gaps that Miss Baggs passed under Confederate pro- 
 tection, and the farmer and the two young people with 
 him were also pursuing their route south. Fortunately 
 for him, the farmer, being on the flank of the two 
 armies, was not forced to pass over roads cut up by 
 
 23 
 
24 CHICK AM A VGA. 
 
 either. After Major Burke had administered the oath 
 not to divulge anything they had seen concerning the 
 Union forces to the farmer and the young girl in the 
 wagon with him (he considered the boy too young to 
 treat in the same way), the party were suffered to 
 depart and proceeded down the road. 
 
 "Jake," said the farmer, slapping the horses' backs 
 Avith the reins, '>what hev y' larned at skule?" 
 "Larned how terp lay 'hop scotch' and 'shinny.' 
 "I don't mean thet kind I mean real larnen." 
 "Jakey was at a great disadvantage, pa," remarked 
 the girl on the rear seat, "because he was obliged to 
 go in classes with little bits of boys. You remember 
 he didn't know his letters when he went to school." 
 "No more did you," said the father. 
 "Oh, yes, I did. I began to study them a month 
 before I went away, and I taught Jakey, so that he 
 knew something about them, too, when he got there." 
 "Air th' doen much talken 'bout th' war up no'th?" 
 "Well, it isn't at all like it is down hyar" (no South- 
 erner will ever change the pronunciation of this word). 
 "They take lots of interest in it 'n all that, but laws, 
 't's one thing to get up in th' morning 'n read the 
 papers 'bout battles 'n such things, 'n another to have 
 soldiers running all over y', specially taking the gar- 
 den truck 'n the horses outen th' barn — I mean out of 
 the barn. Teacher, she had the hardest work to break 
 me from saying 'outen' for 'out of.' It seems she 
 hasn't quite done it yet." She spoke the last words 
 with a sigh. 
 
 "Lordy, Souri, y' talk like a fine lady compared 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 25 
 
 'ith what y' did afore y' went no'th. Jake, would y' 
 like ter drive 'em?" 
 
 "Reckon." 
 
 The father handed the reins to his son, who, consid- 
 ering that he had not driven a horse for a year, handled 
 them with considerable skill. 
 
 "How did y' leave ma?" asked the daughter. 
 
 "Wal, yer maw she war a heap lonesome 'thout 
 you'uns, 'n she's been a worriten fo' fear ye'd git sick 
 up thar 'ith no one ter tend ter y', but sence th' time 
 fo' yer comen hum hez drawed nigh she's puckered 
 up pretty peart." 
 
 The boom of a gun came faintly from far down on 
 the lower level and the cannonading heard by Cor- 
 poral Ratigan and his charge began. Taking up the 
 whip the countryman gave his horses a cut. 
 
 "I want ter make hum afore somep'n happens. 
 Thur's goen ter be a big fight 'bout Tullyhoomy. 
 Thur's forts all round the place 'n big guns on 'em." 
 
 The horses trotted on briskly for a short distance, 
 when looking ahead the farmer could see the picket 
 post. He got his pass ready and when they reached 
 the post an officer came out to examine it. 
 
 "Is your name Ezekiel Slack?" he asked of the 
 farmer. 
 
 "Zeke Slack, yas, thet's my name." 
 
 "And yours?" to the girl, raising his forage cap 
 admiringly. 
 
 "Missouri Slack." 
 
 "The other name on the pass refers to the boy, I 
 suppose. You have a name, sonny, haven't you?" 
 
2 6 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 he asked absently, while he was studying the pass. 
 Though it is questionable if the inquiry was not in- 
 tended to show some facetiousness before the pretty 
 girl. 
 
 "Hev I got hr .^" 
 
 "O Jakey," said his sister, "don't fall back into 
 that habit of asking questions, instead of answering 
 them. You know how hard they tried to break you 
 of it at school. And say 'hair,' not 'har. ' " 
 
 "I got a name," said Jake. "D' y' reckon a boy, 
 fourteen 's goen ter git on 'thout a name?" 
 
 "Well, what is it?" asked the officer, smiling. 
 
 "Jake." 
 
 "Jake what?" 
 
 "Slack," answered the farmer. "These two'uns is 
 my children. Th' ben ter skule up in Ohio. Th' 
 got lots o' larnen. Reckon they'll down th' old 
 man." 
 
 "Union or Confederate sympathies?" 
 
 "Union." 
 
 "All right. Go ahead." 
 
 Leaving the picket, they came to an opening in the 
 country which enabled them to get a view of the 
 region lying to the west. The farmer, though desir- 
 ous of getting on, could not resist a temptation to rein 
 in his horses and Avatch the fighting, or the distant evi- 
 dences of it, that morning going on at Hoover's Gap. 
 Volleys of musketry were mingled with the deeper 
 tones of cannon. Then the firing ceased for a while, 
 when the booms began again, continued and rapid. 
 A white smoke rose above n ridge on which Confed- 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 2 7 
 
 erate cannons were shelling the advancing Union 
 troops on the ground below. Souri Slack thought of 
 the lives that were passing from under that smoke and 
 covered her face with her hands. 
 
 When the sounds ceased Farmer 'Jack drove on, 
 and soon reached the Confederate picket. The party- 
 were sent in charge of a trooper to the headquarters 
 of an officer commanding a body of cavalry on the 
 Confederate extreme left. His headquarters were in 
 a house beside the road. It had once been in the 
 center of a neat country place. The fences, the out- 
 houses, the walks, had all been in excellent condition 
 prior to the first passage of troops. Now, of the 
 fences there was an occasional upright post left; the 
 walks were overgrown with weeds and grass; the out- 
 houses had nearly all been torn down. The place was 
 a picture of desolation. Nevertheless, the general who 
 temporarily resided there was making himself very 
 comfortable. 
 
 The wagon drew up before the house and the con- 
 ducting trooper sent in word to the general that a 
 party, who had come in from the Union lines, were 
 waiting outside, desiring permission to go on south. 
 An order came to send the party all inside. 
 
 The three travelers entered the house to find a tall 
 man with an iron-gray beard reclining in a rocking- 
 chair with as much apparent unconcern as if war were 
 simply a pastime. 
 
 "You have just come from the enemy's lines, I 
 hear," he said to the farmer, 
 
 "Yas, sir." 
 
28 CHICKAMAVGA. 
 
 "What force did you see in the region through 
 which you passed?" 
 
 The farmer explained that he could not answer the 
 question, inasmuch ^s he had been permitted to pass 
 after taking an oath not to give any information. 
 
 "H'm. You are quite right not to answer under 
 the circumstances," observed the general. "Did your 
 daughter take the same oath?" 
 
 "Yas, general," said Souri. 
 
 "Surely they didn't administer an oath to a boy of 
 your age?" he said, turning to Jakey. 
 
 "Reckon th' thought I war too little to swar, " said 
 Jakey. He thrust his hands in his pockets, a- sure 
 sign that he was steadying himself for a conflict of 
 wits and words. But the general was not acquainted 
 with the peculiar cliaracteristics of Jakey Slack, and 
 prepared to question him as unconcernedly as he 
 would pump water from a well. 
 
 "What route did you come?" he asked of the 
 farmer. 
 
 "I met the children at Galletin," replied Slack. 
 "I driv 'em from thar through Lebanon and Liberty." 
 
 "Sonny," said the general, turning to Jakey, "did 
 you pass any troops on the way?" 
 
 "Lots." 
 
 "Infantry?" 
 
 "What's thet?" 
 
 "Soldiers who walk and carry guns." 
 
 "Didn't see none o' them kind,'' 
 
 "Did you see any artillery?" 
 
 "Don't know what them'iins air," 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 29 
 
 "Men with great big guns — cannon." 
 
 "No, sir. Didn't see no 'tillery." 
 
 "Then what you saw must have been cavalry." 
 
 "Didn't see none o' them'uns nuther." 
 
 The general looked surprised. 
 
 "Then what did you see? That's all the arms of 
 the service I ever heard of; and I am an old soldier." 
 
 "Critter companies." 
 
 "Oh, I see," exclaimed the general, remembering 
 the mountain Tennesseans' name for cavalry. "How 
 many soldiers belonging to the 'critter companies', as 
 you call thenj, did you see?" 
 
 "Wal, I counted twenty, 'n thet's 's fur as I got at 
 countin' in skule." 
 
 Souri was about to remind her brother that he had 
 proved himself one of the best boys in the school at 
 mental arithmetic, but desisted. 
 
 "H'm!" The general thought a moment and beat a 
 reveille with his fingers on the arm of his chair. 
 
 "What were they doing within the Federal lines 
 just before you left the outposts?" 
 
 "Wal, I only noticed one man, 'n he war doen 
 somep'n very partickeler." 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 "He war looken at the sky through a flat round 
 thing what looked like a big squashed apple." 
 
 "Not a field glass, was it?" 
 
 "No, sir; reckon 'twasn't thet." 
 
 "Was the man of high rank?" 
 
 "Reckon he war; he had stripes on his arm." 
 
 "Tut, tut, he wore chevrons, He Avas only a non- 
 
3© CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 commissioned ofificer. Can't you describe more nearly 
 the object through which he was looking?" 
 
 "VVal, I think I hearn some'un call it a can — 
 can " 
 
 "Not a canteen?" 
 
 "Yes, thet's it." 
 
 The general looked sharply at the boy, who looked 
 stolidly stupid. He determined to try another route 
 through which to lead Jakey's infantile mind. 
 
 "Were the troops you saw in camp, or on the 
 march, or in bivouac?" 
 
 "Don't know what thet ar last air; but th' trees 'n 
 brush war so thick I couldn' see plain." 
 
 "Can't you tell me if you saw any infantry; sol- 
 diers who walk and carry guns, you know?" 
 
 "I never looks at them kind o' sojers, " replied 
 Jakey contemptuously. "1 only notices 'em when 
 they're on critters' backs." 
 
 "That will do," said the general. Then turning to 
 a staff ofificer near him, he said: 
 
 "Captain, you may pass these people South," and 
 added in an undertone: "Ride over to division head- 
 quarters and say that nothing has yet been obtained of 
 the enemy's movements in this vicinity by questioning 
 citizens. Only one party has come through, a farmer 
 with his son and daughter. The farmer and his 
 daughter took an oath not to give any information 
 concerning the dispositions of the enemy, and the boy 
 is profoundly stupid." 
 
 There was a sound of hoofs without, mingled with 
 the rattle of wheels, Looking through an open win- 
 
CHICKAMAUGA, 3 1 
 
 dow, an officer was seen to dismount and hand a 
 woman from a mud-covered, paint-rubbed buggy. 
 All recognized Miss Elizabeth Baggs. The general 
 arose from his chair and went out to meet her at the 
 front door. From there he conducted her into a room 
 where they could confer together alone. 
 
 "What luck?" he inquired. 
 
 "I struck their wires within their lines midway 
 between Murfreesboro and MacMinnville, at mid- 
 night, and no one was near. I threw my wire over 
 the line and made my connections with my instru- 
 ment. I waited till nearly daylight before any mes- 
 sage of importance came along, though dispatches 
 were passing all the while. At last one came in 
 cipher. I took it down, but as we haven't the key, 
 I fear it will avail us nothing." 
 
 "Let me see it," said the general. 
 
 Miss Baggs handed him a piece of paper on which 
 was written : 
 
 Murfreesboro, Tenn. 
 June 28, '63. 
 Volunteers Garfield with circling between you pos- 
 session turn an be cob Bumble at to get that possible 
 by move Benjamin pony chief rapidity around that 
 put of the hours ready shingle to notice enemy's Tul- 
 lahoma your point the by of poliwog of plateau Nig- 
 gard if desire and hope forward to haha move we 
 right I command and mountain order staff. 
 
 The general read the dispatch over carefully and 
 then, looking up at Miss Baggs, remarked: 
 "Balked." 
 
32 CHICK AM A UGA. 
 
 "Can't it be interpreted, general?" 
 
 "I fear not without the key. It is doubtless an 
 important dispatch, and I shall send it at once to gen- 
 eral headquarters. If they can decipher it they are 
 welcome to do so. I don't care to try it." 
 
 Calling an aid-de-camp the general bade him carry 
 the message to the army telegraph station, a short dis- 
 tance to the rear, and repeat it to General Bragg. 
 
 "General," said Miss Baggs in an undertone, "if 
 you will let me have the original or a copy, I will try 
 to decipher it. I may find a clew that will aid me 
 hereafter, though I fear it will be too late to take ad- 
 vantage of information contained in this one." 
 
 "Certainly. Lieutenant, return the dispatch I have 
 given you to this lady, after it has been repeated." 
 
 The officer departed. The general turned again to 
 Miss Baggs with a serious look. 
 
 "Do you know that you are engaged in a very haz- 
 ardous service.?" 
 
 "Perfectly." 
 
 "And do you understand the penalty, if caught?" 
 
 "Death, I suppose." 
 
 "There's no telling whether it would be death or a 
 long imprisonment in the case of a wom.an; a man 
 would hang." 
 
 Miss Baggs's countenance changed from an expres- 
 sion of indifference to one of those flashes of the super- 
 human attributes that lurk within the human soul. 
 
 "Am I to make anything of my life, when thousands 
 of the South's defenders are giving theirs every day? 
 Have I not seen our homes laid desolate? Have I 
 
CHICk'AMAUGA. %% 
 
 not seen my brothers, my friends, those I have loved, 
 those I have played with as children, cut down by 
 either the bullet or disease? For months I devoted 
 myself to the care of the sick in the hospitals. There 
 I learned to dread a long continuance ot this struggle. 
 There I conceived the idea of doing something to win 
 success for our armies by giving them an advantage 
 not possessed by the enemy. I consulted one high in 
 rank. 'How can I give my life to the best advan- 
 tage?' I asked. 'In the secret service.' 'Point the 
 way.' 'Do you know anything of telegraphy?' 'No, 
 but I can learn.' 'Go and study a month, and then 
 come to me.' For a month I studied night and day. 
 I learned to read words from the clicking of the keys 
 as readily as I can read letters. I returned to my 
 adviser. You know the rest." 
 
 The general paced the floor with a clouded brow. 
 
 "I dread a catastrophe," he said, "in the case of 
 one inspired by such noble sentiments. I dread to 
 see a woman exposed to ignominy — perhaps death." 
 
 "If that time comes, general, God will give me 
 strength to bear it." 
 
 The general was silent a moment, and then asked 
 abruptly: 
 
 "Is your brother aware of what you are doing?" 
 
 "He is." 
 
 "And he consents?" 
 
 "He does not. We are individuals. He is one of 
 the noblest of the South's legitimate defenders, but he 
 is not responsible for my acts — one of its illegitimate 
 machines." 
 
34 CHICk'AMAUGA. 
 
 "The pitcher that goes often to the well is at last 
 broken." 
 
 "Then, someone else will spring up to carry on the 
 work." 
 
 "God grant that the day may be far distant; that 
 it may never come. I can hardly approve of it, 
 though you are working in my cause." 
 
 "General," said the woman, her face again lighting 
 as if inspired by some absorbing thought, "each 
 side has an organized secret service. What general 
 would dare report to his government that he had 
 acquired information which would enable him to de- 
 stroy his enemy, but it had been obtained by illegiti- 
 mate means and he would not take advantage of it? 
 Yet what general would care to be called a spy him- 
 self? We are engaged in a terrible struggle. Before 
 its close any and all means will be used to conquer. 
 Cities will be burned, vast districts will be laid waste. 
 Must I cease to employ the most effective method of 
 all, because I am doing illegitimate work? Is my 
 work more illegitimate than trying to conquer a peo- 
 ple fighting for their independence?" 
 
 The genera] made no reply for a time. 
 
 "Yours is a singular family," he said presently, 
 "You are all alike, and yet you differ." 
 
 "We are united in the cause, we differ as to the 
 means." 
 
 The interview was interrupted by the ringing of a 
 dinner bell in the hall. The general called a negro 
 and bade him show Miss Baggs to a room upstairs, to 
 which she retired for a few minutes. The servant 
 brought in her belongings from the buggy, together 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 3 5 
 
 with the little box. When she came downstairs the 
 party were waiting for her before going in to dinner. 
 Souri, who had seen her covered by the sunbonnet 
 and her eyes screened with glasses, was astonished. 
 She saw a woman three or four years older than her- 
 self, the beauty of her head and neck contrasting with 
 the homeliness of her costume. Miss Baggs noticed 
 Souri's surprise, and going up to her took both her 
 hands and kissed her cheek. 
 
 "You sweet child," she said feelingly, "you can't 
 get over my appearance when you met me on the road 
 this morning, can you? What a 'fright' I must have 
 seemed to you! I don't care for those Yankee 
 officers, but bless your innocent heart, I can't bear 
 to have shocked you." 
 
 Souri did not reply in words, but she looked at 
 Miss Baggs admiringly. 
 
 "Don't think hard of me," the latter went on, draw- 
 ing Souri aside and motioning the rest to go on into 
 the dining room, "I do only what I believe to be a 
 duty, for you must suspect that I keep a secret. You 
 could not play a part beneath you, child; you are too 
 loving, too innocent, and you wonder how any other 
 woman can." 
 
 "I did once." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Before I went to school." 
 
 "For your country?'' 
 
 "No." 
 
 Miss Baggs looked into Souri's deep eyes, and 
 asked softly: 
 
 "For love?" 
 
36 CHICKAMA UGA. 
 
 Souri dropped her eyes to the floor, but her ques- 
 tioner, who by this time had put an arm around her, 
 received no reply. 
 
 "Come," she said, "let us not torture each other. 
 T see we both have our secrets." 
 
 She led the way to the dinner room, where the gen- 
 eral and his staff were standing waiting for the two 
 women. The party were joined by Farmer Slack 
 and Jakey, and all sat down at a signal from the 
 general. 
 
 It was a singular mixture of people about the board. 
 All were Confederates except the Slacks, and their 
 Union sentiments were soon discerned. In a mo- 
 ment the general and his staff grew reserved. Not so 
 Miss Baggs. Seeing that Souri, with her natural sen- 
 sitiveness, felt the change, she treated her with far 
 more attention than before. 
 
 "Never mind, my dear," she said sympathetically, 
 looking reproachfully at an officer who referred slight- 
 ingly to the "Union rufifians" of East Tennessee. 
 "We were all Federal once, and nobody knows but 
 we may have to be again. The country is large 
 enough for all. We are engaged in settling the mat- 
 ter, and have no time for recriminations. All we have 
 to do is to keep our wits and strike hard. They say 
 all's fair in love and in war." 
 
 "Which air Rats?" asked Jakey, looking up at her 
 with a pair of little black eyes that glistened with — 
 she could not tell what. If forced to express it she 
 would have used some such paradoxical expression as 
 "glistened with stupidity." 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 3 7 
 
 "What do you mean, you enfant terrible V she 
 asked, slightly coloring. 
 
 "Is Rats love or war?" 
 
 "Who's Rats?" asked the general. 
 
 "He means Corporal Ratigan, general, a splendid 
 specimen of a young Irishman, whom I was obliged to 
 hoodwink this morning in the Yankee camp. I ad- 
 mire the Irish ; they are so ingenuous. But we all 
 admire those unlike ourselves." 
 
 "What's hoodwinken?" asked Jakey. 
 
 "Well, I was obliged to appear pleased with him." 
 
 "Looken at him outen yer eyes that-a-way?" 
 
 "Come, come, you little fiend, if you say another 
 .word, I'll turn you over to the general to be dealt wit'n 
 summarily for interfering with Government agents." 
 She laughed, but there was a lack of heartiness. 
 Evidently Jakey had touched some chord that twanged 
 discordantly. 
 
IV. 
 
 A guerrilla's home. 
 
 " A DISPATCH for you, general." 
 l\ An aid-de-canip entered, followed by a tall, 
 bronzed Confederate cavalryman with very muddy 
 boots, and a Southern sombrero on his head. In his 
 hand he carried a sealed envelope, on the left-hand 
 corner of which was printed "Official Business." 
 
 "Why not bring it yourself?" asked the general, 
 evidently put out at being interrupted at dinner. 
 
 "The messenger says that he was instructed to 
 deliver it to no one but yourself. It is from general 
 headquarters." 
 
 The man stalked in, his accouterments rattling as 
 he did so, and removing his hat, handed the general 
 the communication. He opened it, and seeing that it 
 was in cipher, handed it to a member of his staff who 
 possessed the key, and directed him to unravel it. It 
 read as follows: 
 
 Headquarters Army of Tennessee, 
 
 June 27, 1862. 
 
 To General , Commanding Cavalry on extreme 
 
 right. 
 Mir rrwec Irddrx mexrr Izi krxn m nbpy 
 mfsfhse ut tixwrax dari sm mirwc gb igjq 
 
 38 
 
CHICKAMAUGa. 
 
 39 
 
 vvini kltvq gs Ijssga mikkingmfy fc Ivdzvkwvgc. 
 Egzi jwpxy tx bagw.* 
 
 Braxton Bragg, Covid'g. 
 
 Scarcely had the general given the dispatch over for 
 interpretation when another from the same source, 
 which had come by telegraph, was handed him also, 
 evidently an inextricable jumble of letters. This too 
 was taken up by the cipher officer. In the course of 
 half an hour he handed interpretations of both to his 
 chief. The first read as follows : 
 
 The enemy having taken the gaps I will abandon 
 
 * To decipher this dispatch take as key words "Tennessee 
 River." Run the eye down the column at the top of which is the 
 first letter of the key-term till the first letter of the dispatch to be 
 deciphered is reached. To the left in the column will be found 
 the first letter of the interpretation. Thus : 
 
 n e s s e 
 
 river 
 
 rrwec 1 rddrx 
 
 m under t at left of tabl 
 
 1 " e " 
 
 r " n " " 
 
 n 
 
 This process is repeated to the end of the dispatch. This code 
 
4^ CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 my present line. Be ready to form rear guard to 
 troops retreating by University. Move south at once. 
 
 Here is the second: 
 
 Enemy's telegram in cipher received Cannot 
 Miss Baggs secure information of the enemy's inten- 
 tions as to following this army across the Tennessee? 
 Such information would enable us to be prepared if 
 he attacks in concentrated form or cut him up in de- 
 tail if he divides. 
 
 The general gave the two messages a few minutes* 
 
 was used by the Confederates during most of the period of 
 
 the war. 
 
 KEY. 
 
 26252423222120191817161514131211109 87654321 
 
 labcd ef gh i j kl mnopqr s t uvwxyz 
 
 sbcde fg hi jk Imnopqrs t iivwxyza 
 
 3cde fgh i jk Imn opqrs t uvwxyzab 
 
 4defghi jk Imnopqrs t uvwxyzabc 
 
 5efgh i j klmnopqrs tuvwxyzabcd 
 
 6fgh i j k Imnopqr s tuvwxyzabcde 
 
 7ghi jklmnopqrstuvwxyzabcdef 
 
 Shijklmnopqrstuvwxyzabcdefg 
 
 91 jk Imnopqr s tuvwxyzabcd efgh 
 
 10 jk Imnopqrs tuvwxyzabcde fghi 
 
 iiklmnopqrs tuvwxyzabcde fgh ij 
 
 izlmnopqr s t uvwxyzabcde fgh i jk 
 
 13 m n o p q r s t u V w X y z a b c d e f g h i j k 1 
 
 i4nopqr s t uvwxyza bcde fgh i j k Im 
 
 I50pqrs tuvwxyzabcdefgh i jklmn 
 
 i6pqrs tuvwxyzabcdefgh i j k Imno 
 
 i7qrstuvwxyzabcdefghijklmnop 
 
 iSrstuvwxyzabcdefghijklmnopq 
 
 19 s tuvwxyzabcdefgh i j klmnopqr 
 
 2otuvwxyzabcdefghi j klmnopqrs 
 
 2iuvwxyzabcdefghi jklmnopqrst 
 
 22vwxyzabcdefghi jklmnopqrs tu 
 
 23wxyzabcdefghi jklmnopqrs tuv 
 
 24xyzabcde f ghi j k Imnopqr s t uvw 
 
 25 yzabcdefghijk Imnopqrs t 11 vwx 
 
 26zabcde fghi j k Imnopqr s tuvwx y 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 4* 
 
 consideration, and then dismissing the aid who had 
 interpreted them, directed him to inform Miss Baggs 
 that he would like to see her. 
 
 When she entered the general handed her the inter- 
 preted copies of the two dispatches. 
 
 "Here is a more important work for you than any 
 you have yet attempted," he said. 
 
 She read both the dispatches and then thought a 
 few minutes. 
 
 "I am ready to undertake it, general," she said, 
 "but without much hope of success. I must first suc- 
 ceed in taking off a message in which the plan of the 
 Yankees is given, or hinted at so clearly as to be 
 inferred, and then it must be interpreted, for it will 
 surely be in cipher." 
 
 "If you could succeed in both you would insure us 
 victory in the west, and that would be half the battle 
 to the cause." 
 
 "I will undertake it." 
 
 "You will be exposed to a frightful danger." 
 
 "You know, general, that I have devoted my life to 
 this work. I consider that as already sacrificed." 
 
 "We move front here at once, as you see by the 
 order just received." 
 
 "I will go with you a part of the way and watch an 
 opportunity to slip back behind the Union lines." 
 
 With that Miss Baggs went out and the general 
 began his preparations to cover the retreat of the right 
 of the Confederate army. 
 
 No further attention was paid to Farmer Slack and 
 
4 2 CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 his family. Evidently there was business of greater 
 importance on hand. They went out on to the door- 
 step, where they stood wondering what was going on 
 about them. Everyone was stirring. An orderlx 
 dashed up to the door leading an ofificer's horse 
 saddled and bridled. An aid ran out of the house, 
 and mounting in hot haste rode away. A man from 
 an upper window called out to him: 
 
 "What's up?" 
 
 "They've secured the gaps." 
 
 "Which?" 
 
 "Liberty and Hoover's. All of 'em." 
 
 "Well, what of it?" 
 
 "What of it? It means retreat." And before the 
 last word was spoken he was out of sight. 
 
 In a few minutes a bugle was heard. Its tones had 
 scarcely died away before the camp was alive with 
 men preparing to move. 
 
 The farmer determined to get his children into the 
 wagon as soon as possible. He had been given his 
 pass, which for the present at least was likely to be of 
 little use, as he would simply follow the army. The 
 party lost no time in getting to the wagon and into it, 
 and drove down the road. But they were too late. 
 The way was choked with horsemen and wagons and 
 they were soon brought to a halt. The general 
 dashed past with his staff, and who should be by his 
 side, her striped dress covered with a gray riding 
 skirt, a sombrero on her head, with a jaunty cock's 
 feather encircling its crown, but Miss Baggs. Seeing 
 the farmer's wagon waiting by the roadside, she 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 43 
 
 reined in "Bobby Lee" beside Souri and took her 
 hand. 
 
 "Good-by, my dear. I trust that your innocent 
 heart will not have to suffer more than the rest of us 
 during the continuance of this fearful struggle. You 
 know we are all being tried in a fiery furnace. We'll 
 meet again ; I know it. If you ever need any help or 
 protection when our army is near, hunt up Betsy 
 Baggs." 
 
 "Whar's th' chicken coop?" called Jakey, as she 
 rode away. 
 
 "What chicken coop?" 
 
 "Th' one on wheels." 
 
 "Oh ! The buggy," she said, smiling. "I left that 
 for the Yankees to pick up when they come along." 
 
 "Rats '11 be ridin' inter it, I reckon." 
 
 "If he can find it, he's welcome to it," and with a 
 laugh she dashed after the rest. 
 
 Farmer Slack only succeeded in getting a few miles 
 on the way before nightfall, then coming to a small 
 village he made up his mind that it would be better to 
 sleep there than attempt to go on through a country 
 being abandoned by one force to be immediately 
 occupied by another. He knew well the crowded 
 condition of the roads, and the perils of night travel. 
 *So singling out a house beside the road, which was the 
 main street of the place, and seeing a woman standing 
 in the door, he asked if she would give him and his 
 party a night's lodging. 
 
 "Reckon I kin keep you'uns, but hain't got no 
 stablen fo' th' critters." 
 
44 Chick A ma ugA . 
 
 "Oh, I kin find a place fo' them'uns," said Slack, 
 and handing out his daughter she went into the house 
 with Jakey, while the farmer drove otf to find shelter 
 for the horses. Jakey wished to go with him, but his 
 father bade him stay with Souri. 
 
 The woman of the house was depressed. She was 
 not strong, and the continued successive occupation 
 of the country, by Union and Confederate troops, for 
 more than a year, had completely worn her out. 
 
 And now another shifting was at hand. At first she 
 had spoken her sentiments freely — they were with the 
 Confederacy — but lately she had come to endeavor- 
 ing to find out the sentiments of strangers before 
 betraying her own. Wondering whether she was 
 harboring Unionists or Secessionists, she began to 
 question Jakey. 
 
 "Reckon you'uns live nigh 'bout hyar, don't y', 
 boy?" 
 
 *'Nigh onter th' Sequach." 
 
 "Let me fill that kettle for you," said Souri, seeing 
 the woman about to take up a wooden bucket she was 
 scarcely able to lift. The woman suffered her, and 
 went on making inquiries of Jakey. 
 
 "Thur mixed over thar; some's Union 'n some's 
 Secesh. Which air yer paw?" 
 
 "Wal, I ben ter skule a year 'n paw he mought 'a* 
 changed sence 1 went away." 
 
 "Don't say 'mought,' Jakey dear," said Souri. 
 
 The woman looked at Jakey inquiringly. 
 
 "V couldn't 'a* larned much at- skule, ef y' reckon 
 a man's goen ter change sides in this hyar fight. Th' 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 45 
 
 git wusser 'n wusser. Still, ef ye'd a ben hyar, ye'd 
 a larned thet. Reckon y' ben no'th to skule." 
 
 "We have been north, in Ohio," said Souri, as she 
 put the kettle on the stove. 
 
 The mistress of the house was entirely alone save 
 for her children, who were all small. She managed to 
 get up a fair supper for her guests — though Souri did 
 most of the work in preparing it. Notwithstanding 
 the soldiers had drained everything visible in the 
 house, the larder was by no means depleted. If peo- 
 ple who live for a long time in a country overrun by 
 troops don't learn to keep a bite for a hungry day 
 concealed in a safe place, they are not remarkable for 
 brightness. At any rate, the hostess suddenly ap- 
 peared in the kitchen with a good bit of bacon, which 
 seemed to come from the sky. In a few minutes it 
 was frying in a skillet, and Souri took some coffee 
 from her bag, which she began to grind. It was not 
 long before all were around the table, tlie hostess 
 drinking the first cup of real coffee she had drank in 
 a year. 
 
 By dark the Southern troops had vanished from the 
 place, and the inhabitants began to dread the coming 
 of another army. At nine o'clock all was quiet and 
 the denizens of the house in which the Slacks rested 
 were in bed. There were four rooms. One was 
 given to Souri, one to Farmer Slack and Jakey, a 
 third being occupied by the woman and her children. 
 The fourth was parlor and kitchen combined. 
 
 There is something dismal in a country place on the 
 first night after the departure of an army, whether 
 
4<5 CHICKAMA UGA. 
 
 they be friends or foes. While it is present there is 
 some feeling of protection. Ofificers are there to 
 restrain lawlessness. But upon their departure the 
 country is left in a rear more to be dreaded than the 
 presence of soldiers. At the front there is no lawless- 
 ness, unless it be the lawlessness which exists between 
 armed enemies. All is at the highest possible ten- 
 sion. Two thin lines of men hold all about them at 
 the muzzles of gleaming rifles. Behind this line is the 
 main force, in the midst of which the generals govern 
 with autocratic military authority. But in the wake 
 of an army comes a flow of refuse as in the channel of 
 a river suddenly cleared in logging time. No one 
 commands. There is either confusion or nothing; 
 and in the South during the Civil War the rear was 
 infested by the land pirates, the dreaded guerrillas, 
 who respected neither man, woman, nor child, and 
 whom no man respected. 
 
 It was midnight at the little frame house where slept 
 the Slack family. Farmer Slack was awakened by a 
 pounding at the front door. Then he heard the 
 woman by whom they were sheltered get up, and 
 going to the door let someone in. The partition was 
 thin and every word that was said could be plainly 
 heard. 
 
 "Lordy, Ben, whar did y' come from?" asked the 
 woman. 
 
 "Tullahomy." 
 
 "Whar y' goen ter?" 
 
 "Up inter the mountings." 
 
 "What fur?" 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 47 
 
 "Ter lay low till the armies move on south. Then 
 we'uns 're goen ter harig in the tailens of the Yanks. 
 Thur's better feedin' than thur is behind Confeder- 
 ates." 
 
 "0 Ben, I wish you'd stop this business. Go 'n 
 jine one o' the armies, I don't keer which; only stop 
 this kind o* work." 
 
 "Polly, you know I've been driv to 't. What have 
 they left us? Nothin' but this house. Ef I didn't 
 rake among the refuse that the Yankees leave behind 
 'em whar w'd you 'n th' children be?" 
 
 "But why air y' leaven now, Ben? What does 't all 
 mean, the men goen south? Hain't th' goen ter fight 
 at TuUyhomy?" 
 
 "Ther gitten outen Tullyhomy this very minute." 
 
 "How d'ye know?" 
 
 "I kem from thar this afternoon. The trains were 
 goen outen the place loaded with supplies. What's 
 them things doen thar?" 
 
 He pointed to some of the belongings of the Slack 
 family. The farmer could hear the woman caution 
 her husband to speak low; but by that time Slack's 
 ear was at a crack. 
 
 "Ther's a family hyar stayen all night," she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 "Any critters?" 
 
 "Two; but I don't want y' ter take 'em, Ben, 
 It's onnateral. Thur's a sweet young gal ez helped 
 me git supper, 'n I wouldn't hev nothin' happen to 
 her fur the world." 
 
 "I won't take thur critters tel after y' git me some- 
 
48 CHI CKA MA UGA . 
 
 p'n ter eat. Come, be lively, my dear, I hevn't hed 
 a squar meal 'n two days." 
 
 "Whar's the gang?" 
 
 "I left 'em a mile t'other side o' th' town. We got 
 ter git inter th' mountings afore th' Federals come 
 along. Whar air the young'uns?" 
 
 "In thar." 
 
 The farmer could see the man go into a room into 
 which the candle from the one adjoining cast a dim 
 light. The father bent over the sleeping little ones. 
 He said not a word, but Slack could see upon his face 
 what he would say : 
 
 "My home is broken up. I am a vagabond — a 
 wreck. If caught by either side, I would be sent out 
 under care of a file of soldiers, told to run for my life 
 and be shot down. These innocent children must 
 suffer with the rest. They will grow up to point to a 
 father who, from an honest man, became a guenilhi. 
 My wife is breaking down and will not last long. If 
 I live to the close of the struggle I shall doubtless 
 come back to a heap of ashes where this house stands. 
 For when they learn to whom it belongs they will 
 burn it." 
 
 The man put his lean face down beside the round, 
 warm cheek of a child and groaned. 
 
 "Jakey!" whispered Farmer Slack. 
 
 Jakey awakened, but could not make it known, 
 because his father had clapped his hand over his 
 mouth. 
 
 "Be still, my boy, till I git yer clothes. Don't yer 
 make no sound fo' yer life; thur's guerrillas in th' 
 house," 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 40" 
 
 The farmer got Jakey's clothes and his own. They 
 put them on, using all the caution possible. Then 
 the farmer took his son's hand and led him on tiptoe 
 to the open window. Once there he took him up in 
 his arms and, passing him through it, dropped him on 
 the ground a few feet below. Then Slack got through 
 himself and dropped beside Jakey. 
 
 "Now for the stable, my son." 
 
 Going across some vacant lots they reached the 
 stable and took out both the horses. 
 
 "Jake," said the father, "I'm goen to the head- 
 quarters of the Federals. I want yer to stay 'n take 
 keer o' yer sister." 
 
 "Souri don't need no one ter take keer o' her." 
 
 The farmer went back into the stable, leaving 
 Jakey to hold the horses, and brought out a saddle 
 and bridle. 
 
 "Wal, Jake," he said presently, "she's a gal 'n may 
 need y'." 
 
 "What yer goen fo'?" 
 
 "T' tell 'em the Southern men air gitten outen 
 Tullyhomy. 'T may make a lot o' differ ter th' 
 cause." 
 
 "Why can't / go 'n do thet?" 
 
 The farmer made no reply; he went on equipping 
 the horse for a ride; but he was thinking. After all, 
 wouldn't a boy have a better chance to get through 
 than a man. He had great confidence in Jakey's 
 abilities in this direction, for they had been tested 
 long before, nearer the beginning of the war. Then 
 he disliked to leave his daughter without protection in 
 a lawless territory. 
 
5 O CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "Jake," he asked at last, "do y' think y' c'd do 't?" 
 
 ' 'Reckon." 
 
 "I kin put y' on th' road 't Manchester. Thar or 
 before y' git thar y'U find Yankees. But yer powerful 
 little fo' sichajob." And the farmer looked at his 
 son undecidedly. 
 
 "Do y' think I'm a babby ter be rocked in a 
 cradle?" 
 
 "No, Jakey; yer a 'markable little chap. Thur's 
 not 'nother boy o' your age livin' I'd trust to carry 
 this message. I reckon I'll let y' try it." 
 
 Slack took Jakey up in his arms and sat him on the 
 horse. Then he shortened the stirrups till all the 
 holes in the straps were exhausted, when he cut new 
 ones, making the length a proper one for Jakey's little 
 legs. 
 
 "Now, Jake," said his father, in a tone that bespoke 
 a desire to put resolution into himself and the boy at 
 the same time, "tell th' Federal general that a guerrilla 
 kem to the house whar we war sleepen, and tole his 
 wife thet the Southern men air gitten outen Tully- 
 homy. He kem from thar this afternoon. 'N, my 
 boy, ez I ofen tole y' afore, remember yer a Unioner, 
 'n hain't afraid o' nothin'. Thar's th' road." 
 
 "Tom, you git. " 
 
V. 
 
 CARRYING THE NEWS. 
 
 HAD not Jakey Slack possessed a stout heart he 
 would have quailed at pushing out in the mid- 
 dle of a dark night on a road of which he had no 
 knowledge, and possessing the disadvantage of being 
 occupied by neither Union nor Confederate troops. 
 Between the rain and the artillery and the wagons, 
 the roads were all cut to pieces. Water stood every- 
 where, and often where the way was over a depression 
 in the ground, it was necessary to pass through small 
 lagoons. This, in the daytime, when one might keep 
 the road by observing the fences — when there were 
 any — would not have been so difficult, but overshad- 
 owed by the great black wings of night there was 
 absolutely no guide, save by feeling underfoot, or an 
 occasional glimmer ahead indicating that the way lay 
 through an opening in the forest. 
 
 Tom floundered along at a very slow pace. Jakey 
 found it not only difficult to keep him in the road, but 
 impossible to keep out of mudholes when on it. Now 
 Tom's fore legs would sink into a soft spot and again 
 would splash into a deep rut; or one leg would be in 
 the rut while the other was on the higher ground. 
 Then he would flounder, while Jakey held on to the 
 51 
 
52 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 saddle with all his strength, to keep from being thrown 
 off by Tom's writhings. All the while a drizzling rain 
 was slowly working its way through Jakey's jacket to 
 get at the skin. The boy tried to guide his horse for 
 a while, but finally concluded that Tom was far better 
 qualified to find his way than he was himself, and 
 dropping the reins on the pommel of the saddle, 
 turned his undivided attention to keeping his seat. 
 Every now and then Tom would stop, and look about 
 him, as much as to say: "Jakey, I don't like the looks 
 o' things at all." But if Jakey understood him he 
 made no comment on the remark. He had ulaced 
 Tom in command and did not propose to interfere. 
 
 Along the way there Avere signs of an occasional 
 camp fire, which Jakey assumed doubtless warmed 
 guerrillas. But Jakey was not so much afraid of guer- 
 rillas as they were of him. At times when they would 
 hear his horse's hoofs beating on the road or splash- 
 ing through water, Jakey could see them trying to 
 cover the embers, or kick out the fires with their boot 
 heels. No one would ever suspect any save a troop 
 of cavalry to be traveling that road at that time of 
 night and through so much mud and water. Jnkey 
 paid no attention to these marks of life by the way, 
 but suffered Tom to grope through the darkness. 
 True, he did not know but at any moment some bush- 
 whacker, supposing him to be alone, would put a 
 bullet through him in order to discover if he had any 
 valuables about him, or more likely with a hope of 
 becoming possessed of a good pair of boots — a neces- 
 sary luxury in the South in those days — but the 
 
CHICKAMA UGA. 53 
 
 thought was no more terrifying than a tree looming 
 specter-like beside the road. It was too dark to dis- 
 tinguish the true character of any object, and all took 
 on fantastic shapes, especially when touched by the 
 tints laid on by Jakey's imagination. 
 
 Just before morning the darkness grew thicker. 
 Tom had for several miles proved himself worthy of 
 the confidence reposed in him and had kept the road, 
 but all of a sudden he brought up against a snake 
 fence. 
 
 Jakey was discouraged. He knew that Tom had 
 lost the road, and as for himself, he did not feel com- 
 petent to find it again. Bringing the horse sideways 
 to the fence he slid off onto the top rail and then 
 down onto the ground. Holding the reins and lead- 
 ing Tom, — for he dared not leave him lest he might 
 not find him again, — the boy groped around for a while 
 looking for the road. It was of no use. Go where 
 he would there were only stumps and grass, every 
 hollow being filled with water. 
 
 He thought of lying down in a fence corner to sleep 
 till morning. But he did not like to do this, for fear 
 that, once asleep, he would not wake up till late the next 
 day; and then the Southern army might be away from 
 TuUahoma with all its stores, and perhaps there were 
 a great many other advantages they would gain that 
 caused Jakey — being a good Union boy — to wince, 
 though he could not name them. But there seemed 
 no alternative; it could not be more than two hours 
 before daylight would show him the road, and he 
 reluctantly concluded to go into bivouac. As he was 
 
54 chIckamaVga. 
 
 looking for a good, broad, flat rail to stretch himself 
 on, Tom put his nose over his shoulder affectionately 
 and rested it there. Never before had Jakey felt so 
 deeply any interchange of sympathy with a dumb 
 brute. 
 
 "Tom, ole critter," he said, putting his arms about 
 the horse's neck, "this air lonesome." 
 
 And Tom seemed to respond as plainly as if the 
 words were spoken : 
 
 "Jakey, you bet." 
 
 Maybe Tom had an object in view more important 
 th?.n an offer of sympathy. Maybe he had something 
 to communicate. At any rate, as Jakey stood with 
 his arms around the lowered neck and looking over it, 
 he espied a light. 
 
 "Golly, Tom!" he exclaimed, "I reckon y' sor 't." 
 
 In a moment he had climbed the fence and had 
 regained his place in the saddle. Then pointing the 
 horse's head directly for the light with a "Git up, 
 Tom," rider and horse were soon away in the direc- 
 tion of its appearance. 
 
 Suddenly there was an ominous click, whicli in the 
 stillness of the night sounded with all the distinctness 
 of the cocking of a gun. 
 
 "Who comt dare?" 
 
 "Mister, can y' put me onto the road?" 
 
 "Who you vas?" 
 
 "I'm a boy, I air." 
 
 "Vat you vant,''" 
 
 "I want 't go to Manchester." 
 
 "Vat for?" 
 
CHICK AM A UGA . 5 5 
 
 Jakey thought a moment before replying. The 
 question occurred to him, was this surely a Union 
 picket. No Confederate would be likely to challenge 
 with a German accent. 
 
 "I've got some information for Mister Rose — 
 Rose — what's his name." 
 
 "Sheneral Rosecrans?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The picket being convinced from Jakey's voice that 
 he was a child, called out: "Comt up here." 
 
 Jakey jogged Tom, and endeavored to find the 
 man, but he was ensconced behind a little runnel in a 
 clump of trees, and Jakey couldn't get at him. 
 
 "Vy you not comt nearer?" asked the picket 
 sharply. 
 
 "Why hain't I got cat's eyes?" replied Jakey. 
 "Oh, thar y' air, air y'? Nobody hain't goen ter 
 shoot 'thout finden y', 'n nobody hain't goen ter find 
 y' 'cept somebody what's used ter hunten in th' 
 dark." 
 
 "Comt along mit me, young vellar." 
 
 The picket put Jakey on the road, which was not a 
 hundred yards away, and led him to the light he had 
 seen. It proved to be a smoldering fire of a picket 
 post. A lieutenant was there and a dozen men, some 
 sitting on the roots of trees, leaning against the trunks, 
 or against stumps dozing, while others huddled about 
 the fire, which was dying for want of fuel, since all the 
 dead wood lying about had been consumed. 
 
 "Vat you haf dare?" asked the lieutenant, seeing 
 the picket come in, followed by Jakey seated on Tom 
 
5 6 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 "You vasn't trifen in py a poy like dot, vas you?" 
 asked a man lying on his stomach by the fire. 
 
 "I want to go to headquarters," said Jakey. 
 
 "Vat for?" 
 
 Jakey went through the explanation he had made 
 to the picket. 
 
 "Corporal," said the lieutenant, "take him to de 
 guard tent and durn him ofer. " 
 
 Jakey was not aware what being turned over meant, 
 but he followed the corporal without question. Had 
 he been familiar with soldiers' expressions he would 
 have known that everything a soldier is responsible 
 for must be turned over to someone else before his 
 responsibility ceases. The boy was led for more than 
 a mile to a cavalry camp. By this time there was a 
 glimmer of coming day, and objects were gradually 
 becoming visible. As they reached the camp the 
 "officer of the day" was starting out to ride along the 
 picket line. Seeing Jakey led in, he rode up to him 
 and began a fire of questions. All these troops were 
 Germans, and everyone spoke with the German pro- 
 nunciation. Jakey waited till the officer and the sen- 
 try had exhausted the vocabulary of German-English 
 words, and then informed the former that he had some 
 very important information of the enemy's move- 
 ments, that he wished to deliver to the proper person. 
 
 "Vat is it?" 
 
 "I'll only give it t' th' general." 
 
 "Vat sheneral?" 
 
 "Any general what ought ter know 't." 
 
 "Vill a colonel vat acts as prigatier-sheneral do?" 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 57 
 
 "Reckon." 
 
 "All right. Corporal, dake him to prigade head- 
 quarters." 
 
 And the officer rode off to perform his morn- 
 ing duty of a six or eight mile ride before 
 breakfast. 
 
 Jakey was led over a stubble field which had not 
 been planted since the previous season, and brought 
 before a group of half a dozen tents, the headquarters 
 
 of the colonel commanding the th cavalry brigade. 
 
 The colonel had not yet risen. Jakey's conductor 
 explained to the sentinel on post that the boy had 
 important information, whereupon the sentinel shouted, 
 loud enough to wake the whole army: "Corporal of 
 the guard!" The summoned soldier came and it was 
 explained to him that Jakey had important informa- 
 tion. The corporal went off to fetch the officer of the 
 guard. 
 
 "What you want, sonny?" asked that person when 
 he arrived, buttoning a coat he had just put on. 
 
 "I don't want nothin'." 
 
 "Oh, you don't. I thought you did." 
 
 "Reckon I got somep'n you'uns want, but I'm git- 
 ten tired answeren questions 'bout 't," 
 
 "Well, what is it, my little man?" 
 
 "I ain't no little man. I'm a boy." 
 
 "Can't you tell me what you have for us?" asked 
 the officer, smiling. 
 
 "Can't tell nobody but somebody big." 
 
 "I don't know anybody bigger than our chief of 
 Staff about here, I'll call him," 
 
5 8 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 So the chief of staff was called up and informed 
 that Jakey had information of the enemy. 
 
 By this time Jakey began to fear that by the time 
 he could get in his information to the commander of 
 the army, General Bragg would be across the Ten- 
 nessee River, but he was doing his duty as best he 
 could, so he waited, trusting that along this line of red 
 tape he would at last find some end. He had reached 
 that point. The chief of staff called up the colonel 
 commanding, who suddenly appeared at the tent door 
 in a pair of trousers and a woolen shirt. 
 
 It was evident from the moment the colonel espied 
 Jakey sitting on old Tom in front of the tent, and 
 Jakey espied the slender figure of the colonel with his 
 blue eyes and light hair, that they had met before. 
 Not only that they had met, but that they must have 
 been united by some cord of great durability. There 
 were two exclamations like pistol shots. 
 
 "Big brother!" from Jakey. 
 
 "Little brother!" from the colonel. 
 
 Colonel Mark Maynard strode up to the boy, took 
 him in his arms, and Jakey might have as well been in 
 the embrace of a bear for a time, while not a word was 
 spoken. Then there was a fusillade of questions and 
 answers, after which the colonel took Jakey into his 
 tent and sat him on his own camp cot. Jakey lost no 
 time in giving a brief account of his trip from school, 
 how he had slept at the guerrilla's house, and how his 
 father had heard of the evacuation of Tullahoma. 
 
 The colonel, throwing open the tent flap and seeing 
 his chief of staff outside, called him in. 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 5 9 
 
 "Captain," he said, "ride over to corps headquar- 
 ters, and say that a boy has just come in, who is sent 
 by his father to say that he slept last night at the 
 house of a guerrilla, who told his wife, not knowing 
 that he was overheard, that they are getting out of 
 Tullahoma. Say that the information is perfectly 
 reliable, as it has been brought by a Union boy who 
 went with me on my most important mission when I 
 was a scout, and rendered me, on that occasion, the 
 most valuable service a human being can render an- 
 other. Ride at once. Never mind the division com- 
 mander. There's no time to spare for army etiquette. 
 Go." 
 
 The captain saluted, and without waiting for his own 
 horse to be saddled, mounted the horse of an orderly 
 anJ dashed away. 
 
VI. 
 
 TULLAHOMA, 
 
 COLONEL MAYNARD was ordered to push for- 
 ward down the road from Manchester toward Tul- 
 lahoma in order to test the truth of Jakey Slack's 
 information. Jakey begged permission to go with 
 him, but the colonel told him that he liad better go 
 back to his father and sister. Jakey argued that he 
 could as well return from Tullahoma, if they should 
 reach it, and if not, from any point where they might 
 halt. The colonel at last consented, and as they rode 
 off he remarked to the members of his staff, using the 
 conventional military phrase for announcing a staff 
 officer in orders, "Gentlemen, this is Jacob Slack, 
 volunteer aid-de-camp to the colonel commanding 
 
 the th cavalry brigade, and will be obeyed and 
 
 respected as such." The announcement, couched in 
 these terms, so delighted Jakey that he came well- 
 nigh losing his balance and falling off old Tom's back 
 and getting himself trampled on by the rest of the 
 staff. But after the first flurry he made a most effi- 
 cient aid-de-camp; that is, if riding close beside the 
 colonel, and being always ready for an order which 
 was never given, constitutes a good staff officer. 
 And now began a ride in which the advancing force 
 60 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 6 1 
 
 was spurred on by a curiosity to know what they were 
 going to find. Would the place be evacuated, or 
 would they suddenly be checked by a volley in their 
 faces from a skirmish line. Starting at a trot, and 
 finding no obstacle in the earlier part of the distance, 
 they soon broke into a brisk canter. Several miles 
 were passed without a sign of an enemy. Presently 
 they came to a low lineal heaping of dirt and fence 
 rails extending on either side of the road, thrown 
 together evidently for the protection of men lying 
 down for firing. They had been abandoned. A sec- 
 ond line of defense was reached soon after, and then 
 a third. As they drew on, these lines were built 
 nearer together and grew more formidable. Their 
 desertion of a skirmish line indicated that the enemy 
 had fallen back from their main defenses. 
 
 Emerging from a wood, the fortifications about the 
 town of Tullahoma suddenly appeared before them. 
 Though it was plain now that they were not to be 
 defended, the advancing force half expected to see a 
 cloud of smoke burst from them. But they were 
 silent and impotent, without troops to man them. 
 
 Dashing from the edge of the wood Colonel May- 
 nard, followed by Jakey and the rest of the staff, rode 
 over the intervening space and in a few minutes were 
 climbing the slanting sides of the earthworks. A 
 point had been gained which, without the previous 
 maneuvers, would have cost thousands of lives. Even 
 Jakey Slack, who can hardly be called an educated 
 soldier, experienced a certain comfort on riding unop- 
 posed over breastworks so formidable. Once within 
 
62 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 them he got off his horse, and seeing a big siege gun 
 from under which the carriage had been burned, 
 climbed onto it and sat straddle, waving his hat and 
 cheering as vociferously as if the victory had been 
 exclusively due to his own genius. 
 
 His hilarity was suddenly quenched by the colonel, 
 who, riding up to him, told him that the brigade was 
 ordered forward in pursuit of the retreating enemy, 
 and that he must go back to his father and sister. 
 Jakey begged hard to go on, but his appeal was un- 
 availing. His brief dignity must be resigned ; from 
 aid-de-camp on the staff of the colonel commanding 
 
 the th brigade "to be obeyed and respected as 
 
 such," he must be reduced to the level of a small boy. 
 
 The colonel gave him a hug before parting, and told 
 him that he would send a trooper with him to see him 
 safely on his way. Had Jakey been a soldier, his 
 action on this occasion would have been considered 
 by any court-martial rank mutiny. 
 
 "D'y think I hain't nobody nohow? Didn't I go 
 with y' last summer ter Chattanooga when y' war 
 nuthen but a scout? 'N didn't I stay in jail with y'? 
 And now yer talken 'bout senden a sojer with me fo' 
 a nurse." 
 
 "All right, Jakey; go it alone, if you prefer it." 
 
 The colonel rode away and Jakey, shorn of the 
 plumage he had worn so becomingly for a whole half 
 day, proceeded on his return journey. He first in- 
 quired the most direct route to Hillsboro, and having 
 been directed to it he set off at a brisk trot. He had 
 eaten nothing since early morning and was ravenously 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 63 
 
 hungry. At a farmhouse by the way he secured a 
 meal for himself and a good feed for Tom. Then the 
 old woman who furnished it gave him a kiss and 
 started him again on his journey. 
 
 Jakey had not gone far before he came to a road 
 connecting Hillsboro with the MacMinnville branch 
 of the railroad at a place called Concord. The road 
 on which he was traveling forked into the other at an 
 acute angle, the two running nearly parallel tor a 
 short distance. Looking ahead toward the fork, he 
 saw a rig which struck him at once as being astonish- 
 ingly familiar. It was none other than the rawboned 
 horse and paint-bereft buggy he had seen several 
 times before. As it drew near Jakey could see some- 
 one in the buggy, and he was not long in recognizing 
 the peculiar dress of Miss Betsy Baggs. 
 
 "Hello, Miss Baggs, whar y' goen at?" he called. 
 
 Never a word spoke Miss Baggs. She sat bolt up- 
 right in her buggy, regarding the boy fixedly as 
 "Bobby Lee" triangulated onward. As she passed 
 she turned her head slowly, keeping her spectacles on 
 Jakey with an unearthly stare. There is something 
 superstitious in all human beings, and epecially in 
 boys. Something like a shiver ran down Jakey's back 
 at sight of this singular person, who knew him per- 
 fectly, yet who passed him, her head turning mechan- 
 ically, without uttering a word. For a moment he was 
 tempted to believe that Miss Baggs had perished, and 
 this was her ghost going to seek rest in some other 
 land than war-scarred Tennessee. But this feeling 
 was momentary. Throwing it off he shouted: 
 
64 CHICK AM A UGA. 
 
 "Shell I give yer love t' Rats when I see him?" 
 
 If Miss Baggs was trying to make the boy believe 
 he was mistaken, or that he saw her disembodied 
 spirit, her effort failed signally at this point. A peal of 
 suppressed laughter came back on the breeze to Jakey, 
 Looking after her he saw the back of the buggy, from 
 which streamed the tatters of the top, and under it 
 "Bob Lee's" four legs mingled in inextricable confu- 
 sion, doing some of their best work. 
 
 "She'uns hain't bent on no good," said Jakey to 
 himself as he gave Tom a jog, "reckon she's up ter 
 somep'n." 
 
 Jakey rode on musing upon Miss Baggs. He had 
 noticed her kind treatment of his sister, and as Jakey 
 was disposed to regard Souri the most important per- 
 son on earth after Colonel Maynard, Miss Baggs had 
 thus found her way into that youthful something or 
 other which for want of a better name may be called 
 Jakey's heart. His remark was made with great seri- 
 ousness. Jakey felt that it was his duty, as a Union 
 sympathizer, to put someone on Miss Baggs's track. 
 "She mought be worken fo' the Confederates," he 
 mused, " 'n then agin she moughtn't." The latter 
 view was most agreeable to him, because he liked Miss 
 Baggs and would grieve to see any harm come to 
 her. 
 
 While he was jogging along turning the matter over 
 in his mind, he saw several horsemen in blue and yel- 
 low come tearing down the road. They reined in 
 when they came up with him and opened a volley of 
 questions. 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . ^5 
 
 "Say, boy, did you see a woman with a striped 
 dress and goggles go by?" 
 
 '"N a long-legged wind-busted critter?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " 'N an ole rattlin' buggy?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What d'y want with her?" 
 
 "Never mind that. Have you seen her?" 
 
 "Wal, never mind whether I have or not. Git up, 
 Tom ! ' ' 
 
 This brought the questioner to terms, 
 
 "Are you a Confederate boy?" 
 
 "Don't I live in Tennessee?" 
 
 "I suppose that means you are Confederate. 
 We've no time to lose. The woman in that buggy is 
 
 — is " he was conjuring up a story to deceive the 
 
 stupid-looking boy before him and get the required 
 information, but he was not good at invention. 
 Jakey came to the rescue. 
 
 ' 'Wanted by you'uns general or colonel or somep'n?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Fo' ter keep her outen danger 'coz she's like 'nuff 
 to run inter a guerrilla camp?" 
 
 The man looked wonderingly at the boy, who was 
 making a story for him unasked. 
 
 "Y-e-s," he replied, uncertain what to say. 
 
 "Wal, she's gone along thar. When y' git ter th' 
 fork 'n th' road take th' left fork." 
 
 "All right. Thanks, my little man," and the party 
 galloped away, to take the wrong road on reaching 
 the fork. 
 
66 CHK^AMAUGA. 
 
 Jakey pursued his course meditatively. 
 
 "Reckon that warn't me done thet. T must 'a' 
 ben some'un else. 1 air a Union boy, 1 air. 
 She'uns's Confederate. Like 'nuff some'un got 
 s'picion of her. Reckon I can't be Union ef I 
 helped her out. Wal, she likes Souri anyway. 
 Reckon she won't do no harm." 
 
 Notwithstanding the view taken at the close of 
 Jakey's soliloquy he felt very much dissatisfied with 
 himself. He rode on thoughtfully, wondering what 
 Colonel Maynard would say if he should know what 
 he had done. He soon met a soldier on a lame 
 horse. Jakey inferred that he belonged to the party 
 ahead but had been obliged to drop out of the chase. 
 
 "Say, mister," called the boy, "what them'uns 
 chasen thet woman in the buggy fo'?" 
 
 "Did you pass her?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Put 'em on the track?" 
 
 "Reckon." 
 
 "She tried to slip through the lines on a forged 
 pass. The guard was suspicious and took the pass 
 to headquarters (after letting her go through, like a 
 fool), when the trick was discovered." 
 
 "Wal, reckon they'll ketch her," and Jakey rode on. 
 
 Meanwhile the father and sister awaited Jakey's 
 reappearance anxiously. Both had great confidence 
 in his ability to make his way anywhere, but Jakey 
 was pretty younj; to be riding about in a strange 
 country in such turbulent times, and his sister, on 
 learning his mission from her father, never ceased to 
 
CHI CKA MA UGA. 67 
 
 be troubled about him during his absence. Neither 
 Mr. Slack nor Souri said anything to the woman with 
 whom they lodged as to the real cause of Jakey's 
 absence. Slack remarked at breakfast that he thought 
 he heard someone knocking during the night, but was 
 very tired and fell asleep again without paying any 
 attention to it. Of course Jakey's absence was 
 noticed, and the farmer felt it necessary to invent 
 some excuse to account for it. 
 
 "I don't know what can hev become o' Jake," he 
 said. "Last night I hearn the critters stampen 'n 
 stampen 'n maken a fuss, 'n' I tole Jake ter go 'n see 
 what was th' matter. He didn't come back no mo'." 
 
 As the dusk of the evening was coming on Tom 
 was seen far down the street advancing at a jog trot, 
 and on him Jakey, bobbing up and down, his elbows 
 stuck out on each side, and his little legs at an obtuse 
 angle with the rest of his body. As he approached, 
 his father scanned his face to learn whether he had 
 succeeded. Jakey, unmindful of the important serv- 
 ice he had rendered the Union cause in carrying the 
 information he had taken, was at the time absorbed 
 with his recent dignity as volunteer aid-de-camp. 
 The consequence was that his countenance shone 
 with a proud look that convinced his father that he 
 had not failed. Riding up to the little porch in front 
 of the house, Jakey slid down from Tom's high back 
 with as much dignity as he could command on de- 
 scending from such a height. The whole household, 
 including the children, were there to receive him, and 
 Jakey was about to give them an account of how he 
 
6 8 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 had served on Colonel Maynard's staff when he 
 caught his father's eye. 
 
 "You, Jake," said Mr. Slack, "didn't 1 send y' 
 out ter th' barn ter look arter the critters last night, 'n 
 now yer been ridin' all over, nobody knows whar. 
 Whar y' ben?" 
 
 "Wal," said Jakey, taking his cue readily, "I 
 foun' Tom loose, 'n I follered him all over the U'nhed 
 States." 
 
 "I'm glad y' got him," replied the father 'Go in 
 'n git yer supper," 
 
VII. 
 
 OLD FRIENDS MEET, 
 
 IT was the middle of August before the different 
 columns of the Army of the Cumberland began to 
 cross the mountains between it and Chattanooga in 
 pursuit of the Confederates, who had withdrawn to 
 that place and there intrenched themselves. Mean- 
 while the Slack family had arrived at their home, near 
 Jasper, in the Sequatchee Valley. Much to Souri's 
 surprise everything about the place looked uncouth. 
 When she left it a year before it was all she had ever 
 known. A ten months' residence in the North, sur- 
 rounded by every comfort, associating with the daugh- 
 ters of refined people, had made a great change in her. 
 Now the furniture appeared dilapidated, the rag car- 
 pets rough; indeed there was a disappointment about 
 "sweet home" that she had not expected. Neverthe- 
 less she did not sit down and repine over it. She had 
 no means of procuring anything better, but she found 
 that she could do a great deal of patching. With 
 considerable forethought she had brought some cheap 
 material of different kinds with her from the North, 
 and this she used to the best advantage. She made 
 neat valances for the beds, cushions for her mother's 
 rocking chair, scarfs for tlie bureaus; in fact with 
 
 69 
 
70 CHICKAMAUCA. 
 
 very little she made quite a revolution in the 
 house. 
 
 Her great anxiety was her brother. Jakey had 
 attended well to his studies while at school, but his 
 teachers had found it impossible to change his meth- 
 ods of expressing himself. As soon as he reached 
 Tennessee he began to relapse into the state of semi- 
 barbarism in which he had lived before the coming of 
 his advantages. Souri knew that there was no hope 
 for improvement in her father and mother. Instead 
 of troubling them when their ways of acting and 
 speaking shocked her, she refrained from comment, 
 but when Jakey dropped into his old ways she tried hard 
 to check him. Besides she felt that it was necessary 
 to keep a strict guard over herself, for she had noticed 
 that when under any excitement, or when her feelings 
 were deeply touched, she was apt to forget herself and 
 be once more the "poor white" girl of former days. 
 
 There was another cause of solicitude as to Jakey, 
 It must be admitted, notwithstanding Jakey s good 
 points and a certain original shrewdness there was 
 about him, that he never w^as the same boy after his 
 few hours of service on Colonel Maynard's staff. It 
 was constantly "When I war Colonel Maynard's aid- 
 der-camp," or "When the colonel 'n me rode into Tul- 
 lyhomy," or "When I carried the news of the ;Yvacu- 
 ation." Then he would strut about with his hands in 
 his pockets, much to his father's amusement, and 
 Souri 's dread that he would run away and join the 
 Union army. But one day when he threatened to do 
 so, Souri took him to task for it and made him prom- 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 7 1 
 
 ise that he would not. This ended her anxiety, for 
 Jakey would as soon have forgotten his military hon- 
 ors as break a pledge to his sister. 
 
 The Army of the Cumberland, in three corps 
 d'arrnee commanded by Generals Thomas, McCook, 
 and Crittenden, the whole under General Rosecrans, 
 was now advancing by every possible route toward 
 Chattanooga. One of the routes taken by the Union 
 army lay through the Sequatchee Valley and directly 
 past the Slacks* little farm. One evening Souri wa.^ 
 leaning over the gate thoughtfully, when she saw sev- 
 eral mounted men in blue, with yellow facings, come 
 trotting down the road. They were the first blue 
 coats to appear of the host that was coming. There 
 is a certain jaunty air, a devil-may-care appearance, 
 about a trooper who becomes used to being always 
 on horseback. Each man and horse seemed the same 
 animal. Their sabers clanked in unison, and they 
 were chatting and laughing as if they had come to the 
 South with only the most peaceful intentions. When 
 they reached the gate where Souri stood, one of them, 
 lifting his hat politely, asked: 
 
 "Would ye mind me goen to the well for a little 
 water?" 
 
 In the brilliant display that was revealed by the 
 lifting of the man's hat Souri recognized a head she 
 could never forget — the head of Corporal Ratigan. 
 
 "Why," she said, "ain't you Corporal Ratigan?" 
 
 "I am, me young lady, and if Oi'm not mistaken, 
 ye're one o' the party that was goen through the lines 
 one day a few weeks ago." 
 
7 2 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 Jakey at this moment came around the house in a 
 fashion at which he had become very expert at school. 
 This was turning handsprings sideways like a cart 
 wheel. Seeing soldiers he suddenly remembered his 
 dignity as former volunteer aid-de-camp, and straight- 
 ening Lip, pulled his hat down over the back of his 
 head and tried to look military. True, his hair was 
 in his eyes, but his military training had only been 
 for one morning and Jakey's hair was always in his 
 eyes. Doubtless it would have required months of 
 training from a drill sergeant to get it to growing any 
 other way. Approaching the fence he climbed it, and 
 sat with one leg on each side of it. 
 
 "Do ye know me, me boy?" asked Ratigan. 
 
 "Does I know one o' them signal lights on th' 
 mounting?" 
 
 '*0 Jakey," sighed his sister. 
 
 "Well, me lad," pursued the corporal, laughing. 
 "Who am I?" 
 
 "Rats." 
 
 "I see ye have a good memory. Rats. It's quare 
 ye should have remembered that." And the corporal 
 chuckled good-naturedly. 
 
 "Mehheyou remember somis'un's name." 
 
 "And who is that?" 
 
 "Miss Baggs." 
 
 "Certainly I do," said the corporal, somewhat 
 startled and confused. 
 
 "I sor her t'other day. " 
 
 "Ye don't mean it?" 
 
 "Reckon I do." 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 73 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "She war a trotten thet ole critter o' hern, goen 
 No'th like shot from a squirrel gun." 
 
 "Upon me word!" ejaculated the corporal, evi- 
 dently much interested. 
 
 "Reckon she war up to somep'n." 
 
 "What makes ye think so?" And Ratigan changed 
 his position in his saddle uneasily, 
 
 "Wal. when we'uns met her " 
 
 "O Jakey, please don't say we'uns," interrupted 
 Souri. 
 
 "Wal, when we met her outen the reach o' 
 you'uns" (Souri gave a despairing look but said 
 nothing), "she talked peart 'nuff 'n she knowed me 
 too, but when she passed me on th' road t'other day, 
 no'th o' th' Union army, she only stared at me through 
 her goggle eyes 'n did'n say nothin' nohow." 
 
 "And what do ye suppose that was for?" 
 
 "Reckon she war in a hurry 'bout somep'n 'n didn' 
 want ter stop 'n talk or nothen." 
 
 "Did you speak to her?" 
 
 "I asked her ef I c'd give her love to Rats when I 
 sor him." 
 
 Corporal Ratigan's Irish good nature triumphed 
 over his desire to reach down and give the boy a cuff. 
 Jakey's countenance was solemn as usual, and did not 
 break into a smile in response to the corporal's em- 
 barrassed laugh. He opened the gate and Ratigan 
 rode into the yard, followed by his troopers. They 
 refreshed themselves from a gourd which hung in the 
 wellhouse; then filling their canteens they rode away. 
 
74 CHICK AM A UGA. 
 
 But Soiiri and Jakey were destined soon to meet 
 one who vviis of far more consequence^ to both than 
 Corporal Ratigan. The next morning, while Souri 
 was setting the house to rights, she heard the beating 
 of innumerable horses' hoofs. Going to the window 
 and looking up the road, which stretched northward 
 for a long distance, in full view she saw a column of 
 cavalry approaching. There is something singular in 
 the sight of a large body of troops marching through a 
 quiet country used only to the plowman, the corn 
 hoer, or the farmer lashing his ox team slowly along 
 the road. Through long years of peace one is used 
 only to seeing soldiers parading through the streets of 
 cities, with crowds to admire, and friends waving 
 handkerchiefs to tliem from windows. Such indeed 
 were the scenes through which the Union troops dur- 
 ing the Civil War passed at leaving for the seat of war. 
 But once among the broad Southern plantations, in 
 the moss-covered woods, or amid the silent hills, there 
 was no one to gaze at them except the simple country 
 people, who had never seen anything more gaudy than 
 an occasional bright necktie, or bonnet feathers adorn- 
 ing city people, and then only at rare intervals. Sud- 
 denly Souri saw the road alive with a brilliant caval- 
 cade. First came a mounted ofificer surrounded by 
 subordinate officers and orderlies. Then the solid 
 column, its officers and non-commissioned officers 
 with shoulder straps and chevrons, the men sabered 
 and pistoled and carbined, each man a miniature cit- 
 adel in himself. Above the heads of all waved a line 
 of bunting, from the stars and stripes near the center 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 7S 
 
 of each regiment to the more frequent guidon ; the 
 staff of each resting on the stirrup of the man who 
 bore it. 
 
 Before the head of column had reached the house 
 the whole Slack family were standing in the yard 
 gaping. Being Unionists, their faces were wreathed 
 in smiles. These were their own men, whom they 
 had so long hoped for and prayed for to shield them 
 from the terrorism of neighbors who differed with 
 them in loyalty. No handkerchief was ever waved 
 from city mansion at responsive smiling troopers with 
 more zest than that with which Souri waved to the 
 passing squadrons. And as for Jakey, he stood on 
 the fence and flinging his hat in the air shouted him- 
 self hoarse. 
 
 Two regiments passed, though each seemed like an 
 army, for cavalry occupies three or four times the 
 space of infantry. Between the second and third 
 regiments was a gap of a few hundred yards. In this 
 rode an officer especially noticeable for his youth and 
 manly beauty, attended by his staff and escort. On 
 approaching the Slack cabin he motioned to these to 
 go on; and wheeling his horse from the road, unat- 
 tended, rode up to the party of lookers-on. Jakey, 
 who was standing on the fence, gave a spring and was 
 caught in his arms. 
 
 "Aha, little brother, we meet again." 
 
 But there were others to engage the speaker's 
 attention. Dropping the boy to the ground, he dis- 
 mounted and was soon warmly shaking all by the 
 hand. 
 
76 CHICiCAMAUGA. 
 
 "Yer Mark Malone, I reckon," said Farmer Slack, 
 "though y' don't look much like the common sojer ez 
 kem 'long hyar a year ago and changed yer uniform 
 fo' our Henery's store clothes." 
 
 "Not Mark Malone — that was a fictitious name — 
 but Mark Maynard. No. I'm not a private any 
 longer; I command this brigade. And it's a splen- 
 did body of men; I'm proud of it." 
 
 When Colonel Maynard came to salute Souri there 
 was an unspeakable interest, sympathy, even tender- 
 ness in her expressive eyes. 
 
 "Why, Souri, you're a woman; how you have 
 improved !" 
 
 A slight flush on her cheek showed the pleasure the 
 words gave her. 
 
 "Hain't I improved?" asked Jakey. 
 
 "Improved? Certainly. Have you conquered 
 your old habit of answering people with questions?" 
 
 "Did I lick Johnny Oh, yes," suddenly recol- 
 lecting himself. "I purty nigh got over thet." 
 
 "So I perceive," said the colonel smiling. "You're 
 a perfect paragon at expressing yourself." 
 
 "Won't yer come in 'n set down?" asked Mrs. 
 Slack. 
 
 "Not now. If we remain long enough in this vicin- 
 ity I'll ride over and make you a call. I am going to 
 meet my wife, whom I have not seen for nearly a 
 year. I expect to find her at her mother's plantation 
 near Chattanooga. You remember how she hid me 
 when my neck was in a halter on that very plantation ; 
 how I came North in disguise with her; how I came 
 
CHTCTCAMAUGA. 77 
 
 here one night where I had left my horse and uniform 
 and dashed away to the Union lines ; how she fol- 
 lowed me and we were married by a chaplain. Well, 
 I've never seen her since a week after our marriage, 
 'Old Pap' is famous for not allowing women in camp, 
 and he made no exception in Mrs. Maynard's case, 
 except for one week's honeymoon in recognition of 
 service rendered the cause." 
 
 "And yer wife's gone back outer the plantation?" 
 said Mrs. Slack. 
 
 "She has. You see in June a recruit entered our 
 family quarters in the shape of a ten-pounder boy. Be- 
 fore that happened Mrs. Maynard went through the 
 lines to join her mother, Mrs. Fain. As the youngster 
 is not old enough to report to his father since his enlist- 
 ment, I suppose his father will have to report to 
 him." 
 
 "Whar th' Confederates gone ter?" asked Slack. 
 
 "To the other side of the Tennessee. They've 
 escaped us once more. You see we maneuvered them 
 out of Tullahoma, expecting to force them to fight us 
 on open ground; but it rained every day of our ad- 
 vance. This delayed us so (especially the artillery) 
 that they were enabled to give us the slip." 
 
 "I reckon Mrs. Maynard '11 be right glad to see 
 you," remarked Souri feelingly. 
 
 "I shall certainly be right glad to see her. And 
 that must account for my leaving you so soon. I owe 
 you all a great deal in this household, and now that 
 our forces occupy the country, if you require anything 
 let me know it. What can I do for you?" 
 
7 8 CHiCKAMAVGA. 
 
 There was silence for a few moments, which was 
 broken by Mrs. Slack. 
 
 "Wal, now, colonel, d'ye know I hain't had a cup 
 o' coffee fo' night onter a year." 
 
 "You shall have some as soon as I can reach my 
 commissary. Anything else?" 
 
 Souri frowned even at the request of her mother, 
 and no one named any other requirement. 
 
 "Jakey," said the colonel, "you haven't forgotten 
 how, when I went through here a year ago, I asked you 
 to go with me on my way to Chattanooga to get infor- 
 mation of the movements of the Confederate army?" 
 
 "Hev I forgot when I war yer aidercamp? Oh, 
 no, no — I hain't forgot." 
 
 "Well, I hadn't much inducement to offer you then, 
 unless the sharing of a prison may be called an induce- 
 ment. Now if you will go along I'll promise you the 
 best that Mrs. Maynard can provide at the plantation. 
 Will you go?" 
 
 "Will I? Course I will. Paw, can I hev Tom?" 
 
 "Sartin, boy," and the farmer turned and went to 
 the barn. 
 
 "Won't you need a — a luncheon?" asked Souri, 
 whose hesitation was an effort to avoid the word 
 "snack"; the only name she had known for a cold 
 bite before she went North to school. 
 
 "Oh, no," said the colonel. "We shall ride di- 
 rectly to the plantation ; we'll get plenty to eat when 
 we arrive." 
 
 Meanwhile Jakey had followed his father to the 
 barn. Mrs. Slack stepped into the house to make up 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 79 
 
 a bundle for the boy. Maynard and Souri sauntered 
 aimlessly in the yard. Presently they found them- 
 selves at the wellhouse. Souri leaned over it and 
 looked down into the well. There was something she 
 wanted to say, but found it difficult. 
 
 "I thank you very much for what you've done for 
 me," she said. 
 
 "Why, Souri, what have I done for you compared 
 with what you did for me?" 
 
 "Didn't you find me a 'poor white' girl a year ago, 
 and haven't you sent me to school, with Jakey, and 
 helped me to look into a world that would have been 
 always closed to me except for you?" 
 
 "And wouldn't my world have been entirely closed 
 to me except for you?" 
 
 Souri was silent. 
 
 "Souri, when you speak to me of obligation you 
 remind me how deeply I am obliged to you. When I 
 was imprisoned at Chattanooga, charged with being a 
 spy, tried, convicted, and about to be hanged, you 
 came and effected my escape. Why, child, were it 
 not for you my bones would this minute be moldering 
 in the jail yard at Chattanooga." 
 
 "But Mrs. Maynard, she " 
 
 Souri paused. She was bending low over the side 
 of the wellhouse, her face in the palms of her hands, 
 her elbows resting on the board beside the bucket, 
 and looking down as though seeking for something in 
 the dark disk below. 
 
 "She completed what you began," the colonel fin- 
 ished for her. 
 
8o CHICK AM A UGA. 
 
 "It was more for her to do. 'Twasn't noth — any- 
 thing for me. You'uns — you was Union and so was 
 I. She was Confederate." 
 
 There was a depth of feeling in Souri which threw 
 her off her guard and made it difficult for her to 
 adhere to her training in expressing herself. 
 
 "Souri, I am indebted to two lovely women for 
 every breath I draw. You opened my prison doors. 
 She who is my wife concealed me when I was hunted 
 for my life. Let us talk no more about it. The very 
 mention of the narrowness of my escape gives me a 
 choking sensation about the neck." 
 
 Jakey came trotting out of the barn on Tom, the 
 rim of his felt hat flapping u]) and down at each step. 
 
 The farmer followed, and Mrs. Slack came out with 
 Jakey's bundle. Then with a handshaking all round, 
 and a "God bless you, my little girl," from Maynard 
 to Souri, the two started on their way, not on foot, as 
 on their former journey, but each with a good mount. 
 
VIII. 
 
 JAKEY ENTERS THE ARMY. 
 
 I'^HE two wayfarers started in the direction the 
 cavalry had taken, but after going a short dis- 
 tance Colonel Maynard reined in his horse. 
 
 "Stop a bit, Madge," he said. "I want to consult 
 my staff as to the route." Then to his attendant, 
 " Jakey, I think I know a shorter route than this." 
 
 "So do 1." 
 
 "The one you and I took when we went to Chatta- 
 nooga before." 
 
 " To bring back information, ' ' added Jakey proudly. 
 
 "We'll take it again. It's off the main road and 
 we'll be less liable to be murdered for our boots." 
 
 "Reckon," said Jakey, wrinkling his brow and 
 drawing down the corners of his mouth with an in- 
 tensely deliberative expression, as though the problem 
 having been submitted to him it behooved him to 
 con'sider it carefully. 
 
 They rode back past the house, and keeping on for 
 about a mile turned into a byway. This they fol- 
 lowed till they reached the Chattanooga road. 
 
 Colonel Maynard was in the most exuberant spirits. 
 He had turned over the command of his brigade for a 
 day or two to the colonel next in rank to himself, and 
 
 8» 
 
8 2 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 was on his way to join his young wife, from whom he 
 had parted a week after his marriage. The two acted 
 on his spirits like cliampagne. He laughed without 
 having anything to laugh at; he bantered Jakey, he 
 talked lovingly to his favorite horse Madge. In 
 short, Colonel Maynard appeared just what he was in 
 years, little more than a boy. 
 
 His services as a scout had attracted the attention 
 of the army, and had led the general for whom he 
 scouted to advance him. He had stepped from the 
 ranks to a high position on the staff, and soon after a 
 cavalry regiment being badly in need of a lieutenant- 
 colonel (the colonel being inefificient and some junior 
 ofificer being needed to practically command), Maynard 
 was placed in the position. When the colonel of the 
 regiment was gotten rid of, Maynard was made colonel. 
 Soon after, his command was attached to a brigade 
 wherein he found himself the ranking regimental 
 commander. This gave him the command of the 
 brigade. 
 
 He entered upon his duties with misgivings. He 
 knew he was well fitted for the duties of a scout, but 
 doubted if he could command the respect of three 
 thousand men. Besides, he knew there lurked within 
 him a spirit of antagonism to conventional methods; 
 he feared impluses that might wreck not only himself, 
 but his brigade — perhaps a whole army. True, there 
 was often a kind of illegitimate nobility about these 
 impulses, but it did not render them any the less dan- 
 gerous. On hearing the news of his appointment to 
 the command of a brigade, he mounted his horse and 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 83 
 
 dashed over to the headquarters of the general to 
 whom he owed nearly all his advancement, with a 
 view to protesting. On arriving there he stammered 
 out reasons which had no coherence, and was dis- 
 missed by the general with the remark that he was 
 suffering from an attack of ill-timed modesty, the gen- 
 eral adding: "You are a born soldier, Colonel May- 
 nard, and if the war lasts long enough to give you an 
 opportunity, you will reach a much higher command 
 than that of a brigade." 
 
 Once on the road he and Jakey had passed before 
 on their journey together to Chattanooga, Maynard 
 took infinite delight in talking over their "campaign," 
 as he called the mission they had pursued. Jakey 
 became more puffed up with pride at having been 
 with the colonel on that occasion than having ridden 
 with him into Tullahoma. Others had been on his 
 staff on the latter occasion, but he, Jake Slack alone, 
 had been his boon companion, his confidential friend, 
 on his mission to Chattanooga. When Jakey consid- 
 ered this double honor he felt that he must certainly 
 have been born in uniform and deprived of it by some 
 malignant fairy soon after coming into the world. 
 
 The Chattanooga road was by no means deserted. 
 Wagons under guard, couriers, staff ofificers followed 
 by orderlies, citizens, negroes, indeed all manner of 
 people and vehicles passing between the different 
 corps of the Army of the Cumberland, met them or 
 were passed by them on the way. 
 
 "Jakey," said the colonel, "I remember every 
 moment of the time when I came along this road on 
 
^4 CHICK AM A UGA. 
 
 my way back from Chattanooga. I was traveling, as 
 the dignitaries say, incog.'' 
 
 "Yer mean by thet ef they'd a knowed what a 
 'portant person y' war they'd a showed ther respec' 
 by hangin' y'." 
 
 "Exactly. They would have put several feet be- 
 tween mine and the waving summer grass below. 
 You have a forcible way of expressing yourself, but 
 considering that I'm the subject of your remarks, my 
 throat feels clearer at my own more delicate drawing 
 of the picture." 
 
 "Reckon," said Jakey, with proper solemnity, re- 
 membering that the topic was likely to wound the 
 colonel's feelings. 
 
 "On that occasion, Jakey, I did not meet even a 
 mule without my heart jumping up into my throat." 
 
 "A rope harness must a skeered y' outen yer skin." 
 
 "Especially when I noticed the knots in it. But 
 seriously, Jakey, that experience has filled me with a 
 peculiar dread. Now suppose some day a Confeder- 
 ate spy should fall into my hands." 
 
 "Reckon you'd hev lots o' fun hangen him." 
 
 "You're far out of the way there, my little Solo- 
 mon. I fear it would be absolutely impossible for me 
 to do such a duty if required of me." 
 
 "Yer needn't take him, in the first place." 
 
 "It might be my duty to do so." 
 
 "Y' mought do like Tom. Tom he can't never 
 see me when I want ter drive 'im outen pastur. He 
 can see well 'nuff when I get a ear o' corn fo' 'im, 
 though," 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 85 
 
 "A good idea, Jakey, With that subtle sophistry 
 of yours you could reason a Methodist minister into 
 dancing a hornpipe; but I fear it's hardly sound 
 enough to enable one so used to deceiving others as I 
 was when a scout to deceive himself. I should do 
 my best, should I take a spy, to turn him over." 
 
 " 'Sposen 'twar a woman." 
 
 "O Lord, Jakey, don't suppose any such thing. 
 I'd have to do my duty in that case just the same as 
 if she were a man. What kind of a looking 'go-cart' 
 is that coming down the road?" 
 
 A horse was visible in the distance, its long neck 
 stretched out in front of its body, coming toward 
 them at a rapid gait. The rattling of a buggy, which 
 it dragged, reminded the colonel of the band of a 
 newly recruited regiment. Within sat a woman in a 
 striped dress, sunbonnet, and glasses. In short, Jakey 
 Slack at once recognized his old friend Betsy Baggs. 
 
 "Howdy, Miss Baggs," he said as she drove by. 
 
 Miss Baggs was the Sphinx she had been to Jakey 
 when he met her near Tullahoma. She leveled her 
 spectacles at him, but had no recognition whatever 
 for him. 
 
 "Who's your friend?" asked Maynard, as the 
 buggy rattled away. 
 
 "Thet's Miss Baggs," said Jakey. 
 
 "And who's Miss Baggs?" 
 
 Jakey paused a long while before replying. There 
 was a problem in his mind, suggested by the meeting 
 of Miss Baggs so soon after his conversation with the 
 colonel about capturing a woman spy. For Jakey 
 
S6 CHICI^AMA UGA. 
 
 had a suspicion that Miss Baggs was in some way a 
 Confederate emissary. 
 
 "Wal," he said at length, "I reckon she's sweet on 
 Rats." 
 
 "Jakey," said the colonel, "there is occasionally a 
 lucidity about your explanations — a shining bright- 
 ness which makes my eyes blink. But on the present 
 occasion I think there is dust in them. Would you 
 mind giving me a pointer as to your meaning? By 
 rats, do you mean rodents?" 
 
 "What's rodents?" asked Jakey. 
 
 Meanwhile the rattling of Miss Baggs's buggy was 
 dying away in the distance. 
 
 "Real rats are rodents." 
 
 "Not them'uns; Rats is a corporal in Major 
 Burke's critter company." 
 
 "The corporal's name is quite appropriate to the 
 one you have given his regiment. The woman in the 
 buggy looks as if she'd make a fit vivandiere to a 
 'critter company,' and a fit sweetheart for a corporal 
 by the name of Rats." 
 
 Jakey made no reply to this; he was evidently 
 weighed down with some concealed responsibility. 
 The colonel tried to draw him again into conversa- 
 tion, but even "their campaigns" were not sufificient. 
 At last the colonel, realizing that they were near their 
 destination and his young wife, became occupied by 
 his own thoughts. Suddenly he caught sight of a 
 large frame house set back from the road. He gazed 
 upon it with a singular mingling of different feelings. 
 In it he had first met his wife; in it she had con- 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 8 7 
 
 cealed him from men and hounds; and there she was 
 now his wife and the mother of their babe. He gave 
 his horse the spurs. Jakey suddenly drew rein. 
 
 "Colonel!" he called. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Miss Baggs." 
 
 "Confound Miss Baggs. What of her?" 
 
 "Reckon thur's somep'n wrong 'bout her." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "Mebbe she's a 'Federate spy." 
 
 "You little imp, why didn't you tell me that be- 
 fore?" cried the colonel angrily. 
 
 "Wal, I hain't sartin' 'bout 't nohow, 'n I 
 thought yer moughtn't like fo' to hold onter a 
 woman," 
 
 "Jakey," said the colonel impressively, "you have 
 done very wrong. You should have told me of your 
 suspicions at once. Remember I'm a colonel com- 
 manding a brigade in the Union army." 
 
 The colonel sat irresolute. What should he do? 
 Miss Baggs was now miles away. Jakey only sus- 
 pected her. His young wife, whom he had not seen 
 for nearly a year, was within a stone's throw of him.- 
 Suddenly he drove the spurs again into his horse's 
 flanks and rode on to the gateway of the plantation. 
 There was no need to open the gate, for there was no 
 gate to open. The two rode on to the house through 
 an avenue of trees, and Colonel Maynard dismounted 
 before his horse reached the foot of the steps leading 
 up on to the veranda. A young woman flew through 
 the open front door with all the impulse of a summer 
 
88 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 Storm. In a moment she and Colonel Maynard were 
 closely locked in each other's arms, 
 
 "Mark!" 
 
 "Laura!" 
 
 Jakey sat on old Tom, viewing this collision very 
 much as he would watch two tempest clouds meet in 
 the sky. "Reckon them 'uns hez got 't bad," he 
 remarked sotto voce, and with a solemnity that was 
 intended to be reverential. 
 
 There was rejoicing at the Fain plantation at the 
 sudden appearance of Colonel Maynard. All remem- 
 bered the circumstances attending the brief stay he 
 had made there the summer before, and were anxious 
 to see the man who had left them a private, hunted for 
 his life, to return a colonel in the Union army. As 
 soon as the news of his arrival reached the negroes 
 they came from the cabins in rear and surrounded 
 the house, peering in at every window, or waiting at 
 the doorways to get a view of their old acquaintance. 
 Being informed of their desire, Colonel Maynard 
 stepped out onto the veranda and spoke a few words 
 to them, thanking them for their devotion to the 
 family of which his wife was a member, and telling 
 them that a sympathy with the Union cause was not 
 necessarily incompatible with such devotion. 
 
 But the happiest moment of the welcoming was 
 when the young wife took her husband by the hand, 
 and both impatiently mounted the staircase to a cham- 
 ber in which there was a cradle. Drawing near it 
 Laura Maynard drew its canopy aside, and there was 
 the round face of a boy two or three months old. 
 He opened his eyes at the moment and stared won' 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 89 
 
 deringly in the face of the man bending over him ; 
 his mterest being largely enhanced by the two rows 
 of brass buttons glittering on his father's breast. 
 The face of the colonel was pressed upon the soft 
 round cheek of the child, whose little fingers were at 
 once clutched in the tawny beard. 
 
 "I've come to report for duty, my son, and I don't 
 expect to be relieved so long as you live; but for the 
 present I fear you will have to be content with the 
 services of your mother. There; one more kiss in 
 lieu of salute." 
 
 The kiss was followed by a dozen or so more before 
 the colonel could tear himself from the canopied 
 cradle. Then husband and wife fell to reminiscences 
 of their hurried meeting and courtship in that very 
 house. 
 
 Colonel Maynard's brigade went into camp on the 
 river bank, some five or six miles from the plantation. 
 The colonel insisted on having Jakey Slack with him 
 permanently, and sent him home to ask his father's 
 permission ; Jakey at the same time bearing an invita- 
 tion to his sister to visit Mrs. Maynard, reinforced by 
 a special request from the colonel that it be accepted. 
 Jakey succeeded in obtaining the desired permission, 
 and after much hesitation Souri decided to accept. 
 Jakey entered the army as drummer boy, but was not 
 called upon to flourish the sticks. He was at once 
 detailed for duty at brigade headquarters as clerk in 
 the assistant adjutant general's department, as a con- 
 venient way of making him confidential factotum to 
 the colonel commanding. Upon getting on the blue 
 and brass of a Union soldier Jakey was very proud of 
 
90 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 himself, and when placed in close confidential rela- 
 tionship with the commander of a brigade, he nearly 
 burst with the emotions generated by the dignity of 
 his position. He was of great use to the colonel, who 
 at once appointed him dispatch bearer between him- 
 self and Mrs. Maynard. The domestic nearness of 
 this office only rendered the boy more consequential. 
 He snubbed not only the orderlies attached to the 
 headquarters of the brigade, but would occasionally 
 approach disrespect toward the officers of the staff. 
 As this was largely their fault (for they were contin- 
 ually trying to amuse themselves at Jakey's expense), 
 they bore it good-naturedly. 
 
 "Why don't you carry that note like any other 
 messenger," said an aid to him one day, "in your 
 belt?" 
 
 "Coz I haint like any other messenger," retorted 
 Jakey. "D'y* reckon a man what carries the colo- 
 nel's private corrensponden air a common orderly?" 
 
 As there was no gainsaying this argument, without a 
 seeming detriment of the personal dignity of the 
 brigade commander, Jakey held the field. 
 
IX. 
 
 CIPHER DISPATCHES. 
 
 IT was about a week after the arrival of Colonei 
 Maynard at the Fain plantation. He had returned 
 to his headquarters. Laura was sitting at work on 
 some part of the "recruit's" uniform, while the rain 
 from a September storm beat against the window- 
 panes. Souri was with her, and as Colonel Maynard 
 was expecting orders to cross the river with his bri- 
 gade, the two had secured Souri's promise to remain 
 at the plantation till the close of the campaign which 
 was about to open. Souri was upstairs administering 
 to the wants of the younger Maynard, to whom she 
 was devoted. He dropped to sleep, and leaving the 
 chamber on tiptoe she descended to the sitting-room. 
 As she entered she glanced out of the window. 
 
 "Good gracious! If there isn't Miss Baggs!" 
 
 They saw through the rain a horse and buggy mak- 
 ing a rapid turn through the gateway. 
 
 "Who's Miss Baggs?" asked Laura quickly. 
 
 "I met her when coming from the North. She got 
 through the Union lines by playing the part of a 
 country girl. I met her again, on this side, and she 
 was a lady. She's coming up to the veranda." 
 
 "Bobby Lee" came up the driveway at such a 
 rapid gait as to astonish the two women looking out 
 of the window, The horse had scarcely stopped in 
 
9 2 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 front of the house, when Miss Baggs, throwing down 
 the reins, rushed up the steps and knocked loudly at 
 the door. 
 
 "Go and see what she wants, Souri. You've met 
 her before." 
 
 Souri went quickly to the door. When she opened 
 it and Miss Baggs saw the girl she had met betvveen 
 the lines, for a moment her countenance brightened. 
 Then suddenly her expression changed on remember- 
 ing that Souri was a Union girl. 
 
 "I've no time to explain anything. Call someone, 
 quick, to drive my buggy to the barn ; and hide me." 
 
 Now Souri knew well enough that Miss Baggs was 
 working in the cause of the Confederacy. But she 
 saw a woman in trouble, and this in her eyes obscured 
 all else. She ushered Miss Baggs into the room where 
 Laura sat. 
 
 "This girl wishes to rest with us a while. I'm 
 going to take her horse to the barn." 
 
 Without waiting for a reply she went out and, jump- 
 ing into the buggy, drove it around to the barn. 
 There she directed Uncle Daniel, who ruled the 
 stables of the plantation, to put both horse and buggy 
 inside and shut the doors. Having seen this attended 
 to she went back to the house. 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Baggs stood face to face with 
 Laura Maynard. 
 
 "This is a Confederate household, I believe," said 
 the fugitive. 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Thank God! you are one of ours." 
 
 "No." 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 93 
 
 "What, Federal?" she turned pale. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then, for Heaven's sake, tell me what you are." 
 
 "I am a Confederate married to a Union officer." 
 
 There were quick successive flashes of hope and 
 fear on Miss Baggs' countenance. 
 
 "And you will not give me up?" 
 
 "Give you up? What do you mean?" 
 
 "I am in the Confederate secret service. I have 
 just been recognized by a Union soldier — a cavalry- 
 man. He was not mounted, while I was in my 
 buggy. I heard him cry halt. I gave my horse the 
 whip, and before the man could mount I was away, 
 and soon turned behind a wood. There is a fork in 
 the road. I took the left road, leading here. He 
 must have taken the other, which leads nowhere. He 
 will discover his mistake, turn back, and take the 
 right road. This is the first house he will pass, and 
 he will surely come in to ask if you have seen me." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "You will not betray me?" 
 
 Laura thought of the coming of her husband one night 
 months ago, flying, as this woman was flying, for his life. 
 
 "No, rest easy on that score. I will do all I can 
 for you." 
 
 There was but little time for action, for the words 
 were scarcely spoken before a cavalryman dashed past 
 on the road. He was throwing mud and water behind 
 him, his boots heavy with moist Tennessee clay. 
 Noticing the house, as Miss Baggs predicted, he drew 
 rein and entered the gateway, Riding up to the 
 veranda he shouted : 
 
94 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "Hello, there!" 
 
 "Get in there, quick," said Laura, pushing the 
 hunted woman into a closet. Then going out onto 
 the veranda, she sternly demanded of the man what 
 he wanted. 
 
 "Did you see a woman go by here just now in an 
 old farm buggy?" 
 
 "No such person has passed." 
 
 "Sure?" 
 
 "Sure." 
 
 "Are you people here Union or Confederate?" 
 
 "Both." 
 
 "You must excuse me, ma'am, but I think I'll look 
 about for myself a bit." 
 
 "You will do no such thing." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Because this house is protected by a safeguard." 
 
 "That doesn't include rebel emissaries. I shall 
 make a search." 
 
 "If you do you will regret it." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "I shall report you to Colonel Maynard, command- 
 ing the th Brigade." 
 
 "You have some influence with the colonel, I sup- 
 pose," said the soldier, puzzled. 
 
 "I should have; I'm his wife." 
 
 "The devil you are," in an undertone. Then 
 aloud: "Well, ma'am, if you are Colonel Maynard's 
 wife that ends it. I don't see how a Union colonel's 
 wife can give aid and comfort to a rebel telegraph 
 worker, for that's what the woman is," And lifting 
 his hat he rode away. 
 
CHICK A MA VGA . 95 
 
 Returning to the parlor Laura found Souri there, 
 just from the barn. The closet door was opened, 
 and Miss Baggs stepped out. 
 
 "Is he gone?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Taking Laura's hand Miss Baggs covered it with 
 kisses, then turning to Souri, she threw her arms 
 about her neck. 
 
 "One of you," she said, presently withdrawing 
 from the embrace, "has risked compromising a hus- 
 band, while the other has acted against the interests 
 of her cause, to protect me. Your individual sym- 
 pathy has overridden your sense of a more important 
 obligation. I wish I could be like you, but I can't. 
 My whole being has become absorbed in my country, 
 I see only pictures of the South's desolation. They 
 have dried the springs of my heart for any one human 
 being. I am so steeled against anything that would 
 weaken my purpose to serve the whole, that I would 
 sacrifice my own brother, sister, lover, if I had one, 
 to my cause, if necessary. It is war that has reduced 
 me to this; war, terrible war, striking down our 
 brothers by thousands; war, covering our land with 
 smoking ruins; war, frightful, fiendish war, seeking 
 to reduce us to the level of our own servants. War 
 has hardened my heart and made me not a woman, 
 but — sometimes I think, a fiend." 
 
 While delivering herself of these words a cold, 
 harsh look gradually came over her handsome fea- 
 tures, till she came to the last words. They were 
 spoken with inexpressible melancholy. Then there 
 was a sudden transition to a look of kindliness, which 
 
g6 CHICKAMA VGA. 
 
 coming after the other, was like the first warm rays of 
 sunlight bursting through storm clouds. 
 
 Mrs. Fain came into the room, and seeing a stran- 
 ger drew back. 
 
 "Mamma," said Laura, "this lady comes to us 
 much as Mark once came from the other side. She is 
 chased for her life." 
 
 "A Confederate?" asked Mrs. Fain. 
 
 "A Confederate, heart and hand, body and soul," 
 exclaimed Miss Baggs. 
 
 "One sympathizing with our cause is welcome 
 here. Unfortunately my family is broken by diverse 
 sympathies. My husband is exiled on account of his 
 sympathies with the Federal cause. My son is fighting 
 for the Confederacy. My daughter here is the wife 
 of a Federal officer. My own sympathies are all with 
 the South. " 
 
 "Madam," replied the guest, "for the sake of the 
 South, were it necessary, I might stay here long 
 enough to endanger your daughter's happiness, but 
 not for my own. Fortunately it is not necessary. 
 Early to-morrow I must be miles from here. I shall 
 go at midnight." 
 
 "Let your departure rest with yourself. You are 
 welcome as long as you choose to stay." 
 
 "And liow," said Laura, "if you will come with 
 me I will get you some dry clothing." 
 
 "I will; but first let me know to whom I am in- 
 debted for all this kindness. The family name 
 is ?" 
 
 ' ' Fain . ' ' 
 
 Miss Baggs controlled an ejaculation of surprise. 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 97 
 
 "Fain?" 
 
 "Fain." 
 
 "And you are Laura Fain?" 
 
 "I was. I am now Laura Maynard. You seem to 
 at least have heard of me." 
 
 "I have heard of you. I am a Virginian. You 
 once visited in Virginia. I was then in Italy study- 
 ing art. " 
 
 "And you are ?" 
 
 There was a brief silence before the guest replied. 
 She seemed deliberating whether to make herself 
 known or not. 
 
 "Betsy Baggs," she said at last, and it wns evident 
 that if she had another name she would not reveal it. 
 
 Supper was announced, after which Miss Baggs 
 asked to be shown to a room where she could rest. 
 A servant was summoned, who led her to the guest 
 chamber, and setting the lamp on a table left her to 
 herself. 
 
 When the servant disappeared, Miss Baggs turned 
 the key in the lock and then carefully examined the 
 walls, with a view to discovering if there were open- 
 ings through which any eye could peer into the room. 
 Her narrow escape, the last of a number of such 
 episodes, had partly unnerved her, and she sat down 
 in a chair to rest, languidly closing her eyes. But 
 not for long. Rising, she drew from the pocket of 
 her dress (everyone knows that there is no better 
 place of concealment than a woman's pocket) a small 
 bundle of papers. Spreading them out on the table 
 she drew her chair near it, and after once more cast- 
 ing her eye about the room began to study them. 
 
9^ CmCJtAMAUGA. 
 
 Miss Baggs had been endeavoring to secure the 
 information required as to the methods of the general 
 commanding the Army of the Cumberland in follow- 
 ing the retreating Confederates, ever since the request 
 had been made of her in June previous. Here it was 
 September, and she had effected nothing. True, she 
 had taken a number of dispatches in cipher from the 
 wires, but they were very long, and the longer the 
 message the more difficult she had found them to 
 decipher. Within a few days she had intercepted 
 two very short ones. Taking them from those before 
 her she began to study one consisting of only a few lines. 
 
 It read as follows: 
 
 Washington, D. C, August 5, '63. 
 Banks here army the Benjamin cat to for your 
 report shinney daily are advance the cart orders of 
 peremptory applause. 
 
 Here is the other; a little longer: 
 
 Washington, D. C, September 3, '63. 
 Congress long with as advise applause marble your 
 possible your ago to party was connect soon to move- 
 ments spot his ordered as to Burton pin of and left 
 ordered Benjamin. 
 
 Taking up the dispatch she had intercepted when 
 the Army of the Cumberland began to advance, and 
 some papers showing that she had been trying to 
 decipher it, she began to look them over. This is the 
 dispatch: 
 
 MURFREESBORO, JunC 28, '6^. 
 
 Volunteers Garfield with circling between you pos- 
 session turn an he cob Bumble at to get that possible 
 by move Benjamin pony chief rapidity around that 
 
CHICK AMA UGA. 99 
 
 put of the hours ready shingle to notice enemy's Tul- 
 lahoma your point the by of poliwog of plateau Nig- 
 gard if desire and hope forward to haha move me 
 right I command and mountain order staff. 
 
 Miss Baggs had had this dispatch by her since the 
 latter part of the preceding June, and had puzzled 
 over it for many an hour. She had never succeeded 
 in finding a key, but had at last drawn something of 
 its meaning from the jurable of words. After much 
 study she assumed that the words, when laid down in 
 their proper order, would give the proper meaning. 
 But there were certain words, which either did not 
 mean anything, or stood perhaps for some place or 
 general. She began by taking out a number of 
 such words as "poliwog," "haha," "shingle" and 
 "pony." The di3patch was doubtless from Rose- 
 crans, as the word Garfield (his chief of staff) ap- 
 peared, and the words "chief of staff" were scattered 
 through it. Therefore either Benjamin, or Bumble, 
 or Niggard, meant Rosecrans. Subsequent dispatches 
 which fell into her hands had convinced her that 
 Rosecrans was designated as Benjamin. Then she 
 began to try to fit words together in this wise: 
 
 Your command 
 
 between Tullahoma and Niggard 
 get possession 
 enemy's right 
 
 Circling around the mountain plateau 
 I desire that you get possession if possible 
 a point between Tullahoma and Niggard 
 Move with rapidity 
 
 By order of Benjamin (Rosecrans) Garfield chief 
 of staff. 
 
Joo chicicamaUgA. 
 
 Other groupings gave her better results, till she 
 obtained the following: 
 
 To Bumble (probably a cavalry general on the left 
 flank): Be ready to move at an hour's notice. I desire 
 that you turn the enemy's right. Move your com- 
 mand, if possible, by circling around the mountain 
 plateau. Get possession of a point between Tulla- 
 homa and Niggard (probably some point in rear of the 
 Southern army) with rapidity. By order of Rose- 
 crans, Garfield, chief of staff. 
 
 The deciphering, so far as it went, was of no avail 
 since it did not come in time, but it helped her with 
 the shorter and easier dispatches, which she now 
 attacked. She began with this one: 
 
 Banks here army the Benjamin cat to for your 
 report shinney daily are advance the cart orders of 
 peremptory apphiuse. 
 
 Miss Baggs had learned that a proper name pre- 
 ceded all these cipher dispatches; possibly having 
 something to do with the key. At any rate, she 
 tlirew out the iir«i. word (Banks) and the words 
 "cat," "shinney," and "cart" as check words. "Ben- 
 jamin," she assumed, meant Rosecrans. Applause 
 must be the signature of the sender; and as the dis- 
 patch was from Washington, it was probably either 
 Lincoln, Stanton, or Halleck. The word "to" taken 
 with "Benjamin" must mean "To Rosecrans" and 
 "peremptory" and "orders" evidently must go 
 together. The word "advance" doubtless explained 
 the two other words. This only left "report" and 
 
Chick A ma vga . i o t 
 
 "daily" as words of importance. These combina- 
 tions did not come at once, but after getting them she 
 inferred that Rosecrans had peremptory orders to 
 advance and report daily to Washington. 
 
 "I have got something at last," she exclaimed, get- 
 ting up from her chair and walking back and forth 
 excitedly. "This is indeed important." 
 
 Then she took up the second dispatch: 
 
 Congress long with as advise applause marble you 
 possible your ago to party was connect soon to move- 
 ments spot his ordered as to Burton pin of and left 
 ordered Benjamin. 
 
 Again the words "To" and "Benjamin" were put 
 together, and the words "Congress," "marble," 
 "party," and "spot" stricken out as checks. The 
 dispatch being longer than the other, was more diffi- 
 cult of interpretation. It was some time before the 
 student was satisfied with her efforts. She inferred 
 from it that someone was ordered to connect with 
 someone else. She knew that the Confederate gener- 
 als feared that Burnside might connect with Rose- 
 crans, So it was probable that Burton meant Burn- 
 side, who was at Knoxville, and that he had been 
 ordered to connect with Rosecrans' left "as soon as 
 possible." The remaining words evidently meant 
 "Burnside also directed to report his movements to 
 you." * 
 
 * By the key, the first word in this dispatch, Congress, signifies 
 that the words are to be laid in five lines, there being five columns 
 of words. Every sixth word is to be omitted as a check word. 
 The key directs to begin at the top of the fifth column and lay the 
 
tOi CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "This is no less important than the other,** mused 
 Miss Baggs. "It is clear from both that Rosecrans 
 has peremptory orders to advance, and Burnside is 
 ordered to join him. I must get this through the 
 lines at once. From here I must find a way across 
 the Tennessee — just above Chattanooga if possible — 
 and perhaps I may strike their line connecting with 
 Rosecrans' headquarters at the front, and gather in 
 the latest news. 'It never rains but it pours,' and I'll 
 get in all I can get while I'm in luck." 
 
 Collecting her papers she carefully tied them 
 together and put them in her pocket. Then turning 
 down the light, she unlocked the door and went 
 downstairs. 
 
 Burnside 
 
 was 
 
 long 
 
 to 
 
 connect 
 
 with 
 
 as 
 
 soon 
 
 as 
 
 ordered 
 
 to 
 
 advise 
 
 his 
 
 movements 
 
 Hal leek 
 
 words down under each other. Then go up the first, down the 
 fourth, up the third, up the second. Benjamin means Rosecrans, 
 Burton means Burnside, Applause means Halleck. 
 
 Thus : 
 To Rosecrans 
 
 ago ordered 
 
 your left 
 
 possible and 
 you of 
 
 The key to the preceding dispatch is as follows : The first 
 word (Banks) denotes that there are four lines and four columns. 
 Begin at the bottom of the second, skipping every fifth (check) 
 word and lay the words up this column. Then go down the first, 
 up the third, and down the fourth. 
 
 The key to the longer or first dispatch is : The first word 
 (Volunteers) denotes that there are nine lines and six columns. 
 Go up the third column, down the second, up the fourth, down the 
 fifth, up the first, down the sixth. 
 
 This code, varied as in the above dispatches, was in use during 
 the greater part of the war. 
 
X. 
 
 A PROMISE SOON BROKEN. 
 
 COLONEL MAYNARD was in the habit of mak- 
 ing frequent visits to his wife, and without warn- 
 ing. Laura understood perfectly the embarrassing 
 position in which he would be placed at surprising a 
 Confederate spy under the same roof with herself and 
 protected by her. She had no mind to place him in 
 any such position. When Miss Baggs went upstairs 
 Laura posted a sentry, in the person of Uncle Daniel, 
 to keep a sharp lookout and give notice of the colo- 
 nel's approach, in order that Miss Baggs might be got 
 out of the way before his arrival. Daniel sat down 
 on a bench on the veranda and lit his pipe. He was 
 an old man and prone to dose. It was not long 
 before Lookout Mountain, across the river, began to 
 sway among the clouds, the nearer trees began to 
 rock, the old negro's head fell upon his breast, and 
 he slept. 
 
 It was nearly ten o'clock when Laura, having given 
 up the coming of her husband that night, and for once 
 in her life rejoicing thereat, was about to dismiss 
 Daniel from his responsible position, when she heard 
 a step on the veranda. Thinking it was Daniel walk- 
 ing back and forth to keep himself awake, she paid no 
 attention to it. There was a turning of the knob to 
 the front door, and in another moment Colonel May- 
 103 
 
1 04 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 nard stood on the threshold of the sitting-room, look- 
 ing in upon Mrs. Fain, Laura, Souri, and Miss Baggs. 
 He was about to enter when, observing a strange per- 
 son, he hesitated. Laura advanced, and taking him 
 by the hand led him to another room. He had only 
 once before seen Miss Baggs and then in disguise, 
 and did not recognize her. 
 
 "Why, sweetheart," he said to his wife, "you're 
 trembling." 
 
 "You came in so hurriedly." 
 
 "I am hurried. We cross the river to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 "To-morrow morning! O Mark, why couldn't 
 they wait a few days?" 
 
 "If wives and sweethearts had the giving of orders, 
 Uncle Sam would have his armies always in winter 
 quarters." 
 
 "Why couldn't this happiness have lasted just a 
 little longer?" 
 
 "And then still a little longer. Come, I have but 
 a short time to stay. Let me say good-by to the 
 baby." 
 
 Laura led the way upstairs, and drew the curtains 
 from the cradle, exposing the sleeping infant. 
 
 There was something in the innocence, the absence 
 of force in the little slumberer, so different from the 
 scenes in which he was wont to mingle, to set in 
 motion a train of feelings in Mark Maynard to which 
 he had thus far been a stranger. On the one side 
 was the wife he loved and the sleeping child ; on the 
 other, what now appeared toilsome marches, nights 
 spent on wet ground, sickness, mangling by shell, and 
 
CHICKAMA UGA. 105 
 
 bullets, and sabre cuts. A year before he had loved 
 these hardships, these dangers. Now a new element 
 had entered into his life, and, at least while he gazed 
 on the little stranger (the only life that had come to 
 him among the many gone since the war began), he 
 felt a strange repugnance to entering upon the coming 
 campaign. 
 
 "My boy, my boy," he said huskily, the thought 
 suddenly coming to him that he might never see wife 
 or child again, "how can I now risk leaving you to 
 struggle on to manhood unprotected?" Then recog- 
 nizing his weakness, he said with a quick-born smile: 
 "But you have your mother, and I must win the star 
 of a brigadier for you to play with." 
 
 But war's quick and imperative demands gave him 
 little time for the indulgence of such feelings. He 
 tried to turn away. Again and again he drew the 
 curtains of the cradle, only to draw them back for one 
 more look. 
 
 "Laura," he said suddenly, "all is changed. Be- 
 fore you and he came, I did my duty as a soldier, 
 because it was not hard to do, and because it pleased 
 me. Now it will be hard, and I shall do it that you 
 and he may not be disgraced in me. How can I ever 
 leave a blot on my name and have that child grow up 
 to know it?" 
 
 Laura, seeing how hard it was for him to draw him- 
 self from the cradle, took his hand and led him away. 
 
 Going downstairs they found the house silent. All 
 the family were in bed. Maynard knew that it was 
 time he had departed. It was very late and he must 
 ride eight miles to camp, and be on the march with 
 
I06 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 his brigade before daylight. But he could hardly tear 
 himself away from the house. The sleeping child 
 upstairs seemed to have brought, from the Unknown 
 whence he came, a maze of gentler emotions which 
 were drifting like smoke-wreaths about his father, 
 obscuring the way from their peaceful influence. 
 
 "Laura," he said impressively, "let us always keep 
 ourselves pure for him. Do you know that I look 
 back with horror at all the deception I was obliged to 
 practice when a spy — when in this house before. 
 And you — how many fibs you were obliged to tell for 
 my sake! " 
 
 "Wasn't it dreadful?" 
 
 They were locked in a parting embrace. Mark 
 kissed her again and again. 
 
 "Those were strange circumstances," he said. 
 
 "Frightfully strange." 
 
 "Which couldn't happen again in a century." 
 
 "I hope they'll never happen again to us." 
 
 "Somehow I dislike to think of your deception, 
 even for my sake. You won't do so any more, will 
 you, darling?" 
 
 "Never," she whispered. 
 
 Suddenly he remembered the strange woman he 
 had stumbled on when he came in. 
 
 "By the bye," he asked, "who was the lady with 
 you this evening ?" 
 
 Laura's promise to deceive no more had been 
 breathed only a moment. What was she to say? She 
 could not betray the woman who had thrown herself 
 upon her protection ; she could not place her beloved 
 husband in an equivocal position. 
 
 "She? Oh, she was only one of the neighbors who 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 107 
 
 came in to help me with some things I'm making for 
 the baby." 
 
 There was one more embrace; then another last 
 one; then another final one: then a stirrup kiss; and 
 Colonel Mark Maynard rode back through the night 
 to camp. 
 
 Not long after his arrival bugles sounded the reveille. 
 It was two o'clock in the morning, and the men were 
 aroused to begin their advance to the front. Sending 
 for Jakey Slack the colonel gave him a note to take 
 back to Laura at the plantation He had repeated his 
 adieus so often in person that one would hardly think 
 it necessary to send any more on cold paper, but 
 Maynard's heart strings were pulling him as strongly 
 away from war as his duty was forcing him toward it. 
 Besides he knew that Laura would treasure every 
 word from him. 
 
 Jakey mounted Tom, and rode in the gray of the 
 morning to deliver the note. When he reached the 
 plantation he was obliged to do a good deal of pound- 
 ing and ringing before he could get into the house. 
 Finally Mrs. Maynard's maid, Alice, let him in, and 
 considering the fact that Mrs. Maynard was in bed 
 and Alice stood in very close confidential relations 
 with her, Jakey consented to deliver the note to the 
 maid, and waited to see if there was any reply. Alice 
 returned and said that her mistress would be down in 
 a moment. Presently she entered, dressed in a morn- 
 ing wrapper. 
 
 "Jakey," she said, taking the boy by the hand and 
 smoothing his hair out of his eyes, "can I rely on 
 you to do something for me?" 
 
 "Could the colonel?" 
 
I o8 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "You are all going to the front, and no one can tell 
 what may happen. You'll probably have to meet 
 your enemies sometime, and the colonel says that a 
 battle may come at any day. I want you to promise 
 me that if anything should happen to the colonel you 
 will come here as fast as you can and let me know of 
 it. Do you understand?" 
 
 "Y' mean ef th' colonel gits hit on th' for'ead with 
 a cannon ball?" 
 
 "O Jakey, don't talk so. I mean if he gets sick or 
 wounded or in any other trouble, will you come and 
 tell me at once?" 
 
 "Reckon." 
 
 Laura knew that this was Jakey's way of making a 
 promise, and she was satisfied. She told him to wait 
 a few minutes, and went out of the room. When she 
 returned she brought two parcels with her. 
 
 "This one is for you, Jakey," she said, handing 
 him one of them. "It's a luncheon. Put it in your 
 haversack, and give the other to the colonel. And 
 hand him this note." 
 
 She gave him a tiny white envelope, within which in 
 a few words was concentrated what may be best 
 expressed as three days' rations of desiccated affection. 
 
 Jakey took the parcels and placing the note in his 
 cap, went out, mounted Tom, and dashed away after 
 his commander. 
 
 Maynard's brigade crossed the river south of Look- 
 out Mountain and passed over the mountain's face 
 where it juts onto the river. The enemy had been 
 dispossessed and Maynard had little to do except 
 to cast an occasional glance down upon the Fain 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 109 
 
 plantation, which he could see plainly and where 
 dwelt what was all the world to him. During the day, 
 with a glass, he could see people on the veranda, and 
 fancied that his wife and boy were tliere. As the sun 
 was setting, he took a last view before descending to 
 the more level ground below. He was destined to 
 pass through strange scenes, to undergo marked 
 changes, before he would see his beloved again. 
 
 His command was but one of the many, all moving 
 forward toward a retreating enemy. The three corps, 
 of which the Army of the Cumberland consisted, 
 crossed the Tennessee at different points. General 
 Thomas, once across, moved to Stevens' Gap, an 
 opening in a range called Lookout Mountain, extend- 
 ing south from near Chattanooga. There he entered 
 the valley of Chickaraauga Creek. General McCook 
 seized Winston's Gap, further south in the same 
 chain. General Crittenden crossed from the Se 
 quatchee Valley, moving over Lookout Mountain 
 toward Chattanooga. Bragg, finding his communica- 
 tions threatened by McCook and Thomas, evacuated 
 Chattanooga and retreated to Lafayette, twenty miles 
 south. Crittenden, passing through Chattanooga, 
 pushed on to Ringold. 
 
 Colonel Maynard moved his command through 
 Chattanooga to Rossville, situated at a gap in Mission 
 Ridge. From there he was ordered forward, entering 
 what is called McLenm.ore's Cove, an undulating 
 space lying between two ranges. Mission Ridge and 
 the Pigeon Mountains. There the brigade encamped 
 on a field soon to become memorable as the scene of 
 one of the most desperate, the most dramatic of all 
 the battles of the Civil War— the field of Chickamauga, 
 
XI. 
 
 A RACE FOR LIFE. 
 
 MAJOR BURKE'S command was ordered to 
 guard the telegraph line extending south from 
 Rossville. The regmient was strung out to a consid- 
 erable distance, each troop guarding a certain portion 
 of the line. Corporal Ratigan was placed in charge 
 of a section of two miles. Putting himself at the 
 head of eight men he led them to the end of his sec- 
 tion nearest camp, and dividing them into two reliefs 
 of four men each, posted them at intervals of half a 
 mile along the line under his care. At sunset, not 
 being relieved, he prepared to spend the night in 
 bivouac. Selecting a clump of trees under which to 
 rest, and cutting some boughs for beds — or rather to 
 keep the men from the damp ground — the corporal 
 established the relief, off duty, there. The rations 
 were cooked and eaten, after which the guard was 
 relieved. The corporal went out always with the 
 relief, posted his men, and slept between tunes. 
 
 Soon after establishing the camp Ratigan noticed 
 that one of his men was none other than private Flan- 
 agan, whose reputation in the regiment for glaring 
 stupidity was well established. 
 
 "Flanagan," he said, "how came ye here?" 
 
 "Faith, I was ardered." 
 
 "It must have been the divil that ordered ye. If 
 
CHICK A MA CGA. Ill 
 
 ye'r going to act as stupid on this expedition as ye'r 
 used to acting, the wires '11 be cut a dozen times for 
 all you." 
 
 Flanagan, who considered himself treated unjustly, 
 bore the stigma attached to him meekly. His good 
 nature was all that saved him from the consequences 
 of the numerous absurdities of which he was guilty. 
 Instead of attempting to argue the matter with the 
 corporal he occupied his mind in devising ways by 
 which he might soften what he considered his ob- 
 durate heart, and induce him to act toward himself 
 more leniently. 
 
 Soon after the men had eaten their evening rations, 
 consisting of the ordinary bacon and hard-tack, Flan- 
 agan took his carbine and strolled to a thicket near by 
 to see if he could find anything more palatable for the 
 next meal. He was soon rewarded by the sight of a 
 bird hopping about in the branches, chirping all the 
 while and occasionally pausing to look at him quizzi- 
 cally, with its head poised on one side. Flanagan 
 determined to bring it down for the corporal's break- 
 fast, thereby propitiating that spirit of antagonism 
 which, in his innocence, he could not account for. He 
 did not stop to consider whether the bird was eatable 
 or not; indeed he did not know. All he wanted was 
 a peace offering. He approached and brought his 
 gun to an aim. The bird hopped to the other side of 
 the tree. He was obliged to take a new position. 
 The bird flew to the next tree. The private followed. 
 Just as he was about to fire, the bird took wing and 
 lit on a branch still further from the camp. Thus 
 was Flanagan led from one tree to another till he 
 
1 1 2 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 found himself around a bend in the road between the 
 hills. 
 
 Suddenly he espied something which drew his 
 attention from the object he was following. An old 
 farm buggy, behind a rawboned horse, stood in the 
 road, while near by a woman was coiling a wire on 
 her hand, one end of which was dangling over a tele- 
 graph wire above her head. She turned, and seeing a 
 Union soldier, became suddenly white as a sheet. 
 But this he could not see, owing to the shade of her 
 sunbonnet and glasses, 
 
 "Good ayvenen, miss." 
 
 *La sakes, Mr. soger!" 
 
 "It's a foine ayvenen." 
 
 **Reckon 't air." 
 
 ""What do ye be doen wid the little woire?" 
 
 By this time Miss Baggs, for it was she, had recov- 
 ered some of her equanimity, 
 
 "I'm a-rollen 't up," 
 
 "And what's it for?" 
 
 "Wal, I'll tell y*. Yer see th' stone on th' end? 
 Wal, thet's fo' to kill birds with. I jist throwed th' 
 stone at a bird. By haven it tied to a wire I kin hold 
 enter th' stone, 'n don't hev ter keep picken up stones 
 all th' while, pertickerlerly when I'm a-sitten in th' 
 buggy." 
 
 "It's an injaneyous and original device." 
 
 "What air you'uns a doen hyar?" 
 
 "There's a small party of us around the bend; 
 we're guyarden the telegraph." 
 
 ' 'How many of y' air there ? " 
 
 "A carporal and eight men, includen meself." 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 1 3 
 
 "What air you'uns doen out hyar away from all th' 
 rest on 'em?" 
 
 "Follyen a burred." 
 
 "Oh ! It's birds yer looken fo'. Wal, you'uns jist 
 go inter thet thicket 'n y'll git a hull flock." 
 
 "Ye don't mane it!" 
 
 Miss Baggs pointed up the road to a wood which if 
 private Flanagan should go there he would be still 
 further away from his camp. 
 
 "Are ye shure there's a flock?" 
 
 "Ther so thick y* can't see the sky." 
 
 "Oi'U try for 'em." 
 
 Miss Baggs went on coiling her wire unconcernedly, 
 till the private was out of sight. Then she sprang 
 into her buggy and giving "Bobby" the lash drove 
 rapidly away. 
 
 "One more attempt to-night," she said, "and to- 
 morrow I'll be off for our camps. I'll make it right 
 here. If the rest of the party guarding the line are as 
 stupid as this one, I couldn't wish for a better 
 chance." 
 
 It was two o'clock in the morning when Ratigan 
 started out to post the last relief for the night. The 
 men followed, grum and stupid, having just been 
 wakened out of a sound sleep and not yet thoroughly 
 aroused. The party rode to the extreme end of the 
 section, left a man, and turned back, leaving a man 
 at every half mile. Corporal Ratigan had posted the 
 last man half a mile from the bivouac and was return- 
 ing, when suddenly, turning a bend in the road run- 
 ning through a wood, lie descried a dark object before 
 him beside the road. He drew rein and watched and 
 
1 1 4 CHICK A MA UCA , 
 
 listened. The dark object, as he fixed his gaze upon 
 it, grew into the dim outlines of a vehicle, but it was 
 too dark for him to see if it contained anyone. The 
 corporal, whose mind had been fixed on the special 
 duty of protecting the line, at once assumed that 
 someone was trying to cut the wire. He put spurs to 
 his horse and called out: 
 
 "Halt there! Throw up your hands and surren- 
 der, or I'll shoot." 
 
 The only response was a swish from a whip which 
 came down evidently on a horse's back, and the dark 
 mass before him vanished around the bend in the 
 road. The corporal dashed on, but before he could 
 get round the bend the object had turned again. He 
 could hear the rattling of wheels, and sounds of a 
 horse's hoofs digging into the road at a gallop. 
 Whoever was behind that horse must be driving at a 
 frightful pace, for urging his own beast to his best he 
 seemed to lose rather than gain ground. Coming to a 
 straight piece of road he could again see the object 
 before him, but in the darkness it was simply a darker 
 spot than its surroundings. 
 
 The corporal found himself started in a chase 
 which from the first promised to be an unequal one. 
 True, the animal with which his own was vying was 
 dragging some sort of a vehicle, while the corporal's 
 steed had his load all on his back. There was a hun- 
 dred and eighty pounds of human flesh, some thirty 
 to forty ]50unds of weapons and ammunition, besides 
 clothing, and several pounds of cavalry boots. 
 Whether or no the odds were in favor of the one or 
 the other, the two animals had passed over a mile, and 
 
Chick A ma uCa . 115 
 
 Ratigan could not tell whether he had lost or gained. 
 There were strange sounds mingling with the more 
 distinct rattling of wheels in front, but the corporal's 
 sabre, as it gyrated in the air, knocked against his left 
 leg, thrashed under his horse's belly, made such a 
 clatter that all other noises were but whispers in a 
 storm. Then there was his carbine to pound against 
 him and his horse's side, threatening at each beat to 
 break a rib. Indeed the corporal, after vainly trying 
 to carry both sabre and carbine in one hand, while he 
 held the reins with the other, and dug his heels into 
 his horse's flanks, began to think that he could do 
 better in a wagon than so hampered on a horse's back. 
 
 Then he decided to try what effect a bullet would 
 have on the fugitive. Dropping both sabre and car- 
 bine he drew his revolver and fired a couple of shots. 
 He did not aim directly at the flying object, for he did 
 not know what he was firing at. The only effect 
 produced seemed to be a renewed effort on the part 
 of the steed in front. 
 
 Suddenly the ears of the corporal caught a sound 
 that filled him with astonishment. It was a voice 
 urging forward the borse he was chasing. Ratigan 
 had supposed that whoever was trying to escape was a 
 man, yet this voice was different from a man's tones; 
 it sounded like that of a child or a woman. The 
 corporal was puzzled. Then it suddenly occurred to 
 him that perhaps he was chasing Betsy Baggs. 
 
 Now, the corpora] was as conscientious a man as 
 there was in the Army of the Cumberland, and one of 
 the most gallant, but when the suspicion fell upon 
 him like a chill, that he was after a woman whose 
 
1 1 6 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 presence, for the brief period he had been with her, 
 had thrown a strange spell over him, he ceased to 
 urge his horse with the same pressure as before. In 
 the midst of the chase there had come a contest 
 within his own breast between two conflicting emo- 
 tions. If Betsy Baggs were in front of him, what 
 would be the result if he should catch her? He must 
 turn her over to the military authorities, and the 
 chances were she would be executed for a spy. On 
 the other hand, supposing he permitted her to escape, 
 he would be liberating an enemy far more dangerous 
 to the army in which he served than a dozen batter- 
 ies. In short, he would be a traitor to his comrades 
 and his cause. 
 
 The corporal turned these two alternatives over 
 rapidly in his mind, dwelling first on one and then on 
 the other, till he thought he would go mad. At one 
 moment his sense of duty, acting all-powerful, would 
 drive his spurs into his horse's flanks till the blood 
 flowed. Then he would see a picture of Miss Baggs, 
 as he had once seen her standing up in her buggy 
 under the protection of Confederate troopers, her eye 
 lighting with delight at his confusion, her hair half 
 undone, the bewitching smile that revealed her white 
 teeth. He would suddenly turn from this picture to 
 the woman standing before a file of soldiers to whom 
 he, Corporal Ratigan, had turned her over for execu- 
 tion. One feature held him on to the chase. It was 
 that he did not surely know whom he followed. He 
 suspected Miss Baggs, but for all he knew it might be 
 someone else. So he pressed on and did his best. 
 
 Miss Baggs, for it was she, had passed many pick- 
 
CHICK A MA UGA i 1 7 
 
 ets, had experienced many lucky escapes. She had 
 browbeaten officers, and had cozened soldiers. She 
 had gone through a dozen places where a man would 
 surely have been arrested. For months she had been 
 in quest of information that would give her cause the 
 victory in the West. When surprised by the corporal, 
 she had just taken off telegrams revealing the whole 
 situation of the Army of the Cumberland. She had 
 withdrawn her wire, had closed her box, and when 
 the corporal came up was preparing to start. And 
 now, after passing so many dangers, on the very eve of 
 success, she suddenly found herself in the most criti- 
 cal of all the situations she had ever been placed in. 
 
 Meanwhile the long legs of "Bobby Lee" were get- 
 ting over the ground at an astonishing pace. It was 
 not the triangulation of a former race for sport with 
 Corporal Ratigan, but the quick, short jumps of a 
 race for life. And Bobby seemed to know the 
 stake. Never in his former flights had his ear been 
 turned back so eagerly to catch the low tones of his 
 mistress. Never had there been so much feeling in 
 that mistress' voice. It was: "Go on, Bobby! 
 Good old horse. Get up! On! on! on! That's a 
 dear boy. It's life and death with me, Bobby"; a 
 continued stream of broken words and sentences, all 
 of which Bobby seemed to understand and act upon 
 as if he had been a human being. 
 
 The fugitive knew that the chase could not be a 
 long one. Her crazy vehicle was like a rotten hulk 
 in a storm without sea room. To the north was the 
 Tennessee River, and no means of crossing. Ahead 
 was Chickamauga Creek, but between her and it lay 
 
1 1 8 CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 the scattered forces of the left wing of the Union 
 army. She knew the ground well, and had as good 
 a knowledge of the positions of the troops as one 
 could have of an army constantly changing. The 
 point from which she had started was half a mile west 
 of Rossville on the Lafayette road. A mile of chas- 
 ing had brought her near a fork, the left road leading 
 across Chickamauga Creek by Dyer's bridge; the 
 right leading directly south. By the former route 
 three miles would bring her to the creek and in prox- 
 imity to the Confederate outposts; by the latter, she 
 would have to traverse double the distance and pass 
 the camps of a whole corps of the Union army. But 
 even the scattered forces on the shorter road seemed 
 an impassable barrier to her, and it was not probable 
 that any bridge across the creek would be left un- 
 guarded. There were as many fords as there were 
 bridges, and if she could strike one of these she might 
 possibly find a free passage. She determined to take 
 the left-hand road, intending, if she should succeed in 
 reaching Dyer's Mill, about a mile from the creek, 
 to strike a ford some distance below that she remem- 
 bered having once crossed. 
 
 These possibilities flashed through her mind like 
 messages over a telegraph wire, while the thud of 
 hoofs and the clattering of her pursuer's swinging 
 sabre were sounding in her ears. 
 
 "On, on, Bobby, for Heaven's sake, go on." 
 
 Would it not be best for her to leave her horse and 
 
 buggy in the road and take to the woods? No. 
 
 They would mark the point where she had left them. 
 
 But her pursuer would not know which side of the 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . Up 
 
 road she had taken, and there would be an even 
 chance that he would follow on the wrong side. 
 Something must be done; the race could not last for- 
 ever; the man behind seemed to be gaining; and then 
 the dread of coming upon a Union camp! 
 
 She was about to bring her horse to a stand and 
 jump from her buggy, when the clatter behind her — 
 Ratigan had turned a slight bend in the road — 
 sounded so loud, so near, that instead of doing so she 
 gave him a cut with the whip. 
 
 "There's no time now, Bobby. We must put a 
 greater distance between us and the Yankee. Get 
 up, Bobby! Oh, go on! Why haven't you wings?" 
 
 Heavens! what is that ahead? Tents white and 
 ghostly in the gloom! And how many of them! 
 The whole field is covered! 
 
 Nearer comes the clatter from behind. In front is 
 a sleeping regiment, brigade, perhaps a whole divi- 
 sion. It was not there yesterday. It must be in tran- 
 sit. Oh, why should it have halted just in time to 
 block the way? 
 
 "God help me, I must take my chances and go 
 on." 
 
 Sentinels were pacing on their beats about the 
 camps. In some cases the beats led along the road, 
 but not across it. Right through these chains of sen- 
 tinels, right into the heart of this sleeping multitude 
 of armed men, dashed the woman whose only weapons 
 of defense were Bobby Lee and her antiquated 
 vehicle. 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
 "Goon, Bob." 
 
1 2 O CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 A shot, a bullet singing like a tuning fork, in ears 
 which already sang loud enough in themselves with 
 excitement. ' 
 
 ' ' Tur)i out the guard ! ' ' 
 
 Following Miss Baggs came Corporal Ratigan, to 
 find the road in front of him blocked by half a dozen 
 men with as many muskets pointed right up in his face. 
 
 He uttered an involuntary "thank God!" He 
 must be delayed ; the responsibility for the escape of 
 the fugitive would be with them. If indeed she were 
 Miss Baggs he would regard himself fortunate at the 
 delay. 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked one of the men. 
 
 "I'm chasing some one in front. I suspect a tele- 
 graph breaker." 
 
 "Ah! That's it, is it? Well, go on; we've 
 stopped the wrong person." 
 
 The corporal regretted that the interview had been 
 so brief, the interruption so short. He had no 
 option but to dash on. 
 
 Before the fugitive there stood a man in the middle 
 of the road with a musket leveled straight at her, or 
 rather at the coming mass which he could not distin- 
 guish. Miss Baggs did not see him till she got within 
 a dozen feet of him and heard : 
 
 "Halt, or I'll fire!" 
 
 Rising in her seat and concentrating all her strength 
 in one effort, she brought her whip down on the 
 horse's back, at the same time holding him in the 
 center of the road by the reins. The man was 
 knocked in one direction, stunned, and his musket 
 went llying in the other. 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 121 
 
 And now each one of the chain of sentries through 
 which the fair dispatch stealer's horse dragged her 
 and her swaying buggy with a series of lunges, 
 hearing shots, the cries of guards, the clatter of 
 horse's hoofs, the rattling of wheels, and seeing some- 
 thing coming through the darkness as Miss Baggs ap- 
 proached, shouted "Halt!" "Turn out the guard." 
 "Who comes there?" and a score of other similar 
 cries, to none of which Miss Baggs paid any other 
 attention than to fly through and from them as from 
 the hand of Death. A score of shots were fired at her 
 along half a mile of road while she was running the 
 gauntlet. 
 
 And now the last sentry is passed and the woman 
 shoots out from between the rows of white tents into a 
 free road ahead. The noises are left behind. But 
 amid the confusion of distant sounds is one which, 
 coming with a low, continued rattle, strikes terror into 
 her heart. A familiarity with war has taught her its 
 calls. She hears the beating of the "long roll." The 
 whole camp is aroused. A legion of Yankees may 
 soon be in pursuit. 
 
 Corporal Ratigan was stopped by every sentinel 
 who had tried to check Miss Baggs. After an ex- 
 planation to each he was suffered to go on. The men 
 who stopped him transmitted the information at once 
 to the guard tent that some one — doubtless an enemy 
 — was being chased. The force was a division of 
 infantry, with no cavalry except a mounted escort to 
 the general commanding. Some of these were 
 ordered in pursuit. There was a hurried saddling of 
 horses, sprinkled with oaths at the delays encoun- 
 
122 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 tered, and three cavalrymen mounted, and dashed 
 after Miss Baggs and her pursuer. But before they 
 started, a couple of miles had been placed between 
 her and the camps. 
 
 The gray of the morning was by this time beginning 
 to reveal objects with greater distinctness. Ratigan, 
 coming to a rise in the ground just beyond the camps, 
 saw tlie buggy about two miles ahead swaying like the 
 dark hull of a ship rolling through the billows of an 
 ocean. For a moment he hesitated between his duty 
 as a soldier, and that quick, sharp something, be it love, 
 bewitchment, or a natural sympathy of man for weaker 
 woman, while beads of cold perspiration stood on his 
 forehead. It seemed to him that if he should do his 
 duty he would be acting the part of an executioner; 
 not only that, but the executioner of a woman — a 
 woman whose image had got into his heart and his 
 head, and never left him a moment's peace since she 
 first threw the spell of her entrancing personality 
 about him. It was a hard struggle, and from the 
 nature of the case could not be a long one. Duty 
 won. He shouted to his horse, gave him a dig with 
 both spurs, and dashed forward. 
 
 There was a depression in the ground down which 
 the corporal plunged. Then the road ran along a 
 level for a while, with another slight rise beyond. As 
 he rode down the declivity the fugitive was on the 
 crest of the second rise. She stood up and turned to 
 catch a glance behind her. She saw a horseman — she 
 was too far to recognize the corporal — dashing after 
 her. Below her was a wooded space, and she noticed 
 that which gave her a glimmer of hope. The road 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 123 
 
 forked. Urging her horse onward she aimed to get 
 on one of the two roads beyond the fork while her 
 pursuer was in the hollow back of her, trusting that 
 she might escape as she had escaped before, by forc- 
 ing him to choose between two roads, and trusting 
 that he might take the wrong one. 
 
 Down the declivity her racer plunged while Ratigan 
 was galloping down the one behind her. So steep 
 was the road and so swift her horse's pace that the 
 danger of death by mangling seemed greater than 
 death by hanging. She reached the bottom, where the 
 road ran level to the fork and the wood. Hope 
 urged her. It was not a hundred yards to the point 
 slie was so anxious to reach. 
 
 There is a story of a wonderful one-horse shay, 
 which had been made so perfectly that, no one part 
 being weaker than the rest, it never gave out till at 
 last the whole collapsed together. Miss Baggs' buggy 
 was one she had found in a countryman's barn, and 
 had been donated to the cause. It had been an 
 excellent vehicle in its day, though when she acquired 
 it, was in extreme old age. Its forlorn appearance 
 suited her purpose admirably, and after numerous 
 tests she had come to place greater reliance on its 
 endurance than on that of a newer conveyance. But 
 there came a time when if no part would give way all 
 must give way. That time was now at hand. Pass- 
 ing over a rut at the very fork of the road that seemed 
 her only chance for escape, the old buggy gave a dis- 
 mal groan, as much in sympathy with the mistress it 
 had served so well, as a death rattle, and flew into a 
 hundred pieces. 
 
XII. 
 
 A CHANGED ENEMY. 
 
 CORPORAL RATIGAN had been worked up to 
 such a fever of excitement by the chase and his 
 complicated feelings toward the object of it, that when 
 he shot over the rise in the ground that hid the fugi- 
 tive from his view, his visage was distorted from the 
 expression of good nature usually stamped upon it to 
 one which can only be called demoniac. His eyes 
 were wild; that portion of his hair which extended 
 below his forage cap seemed to glow with unusual 
 redness; his body leaned forward like a jockey in a 
 race — the whole forming a picture of eager ferocity. 
 In short, Corporal Ratigan resembled an escaped 
 lunatic chasing a flying fiend who had been torturing 
 him. 
 
 On the crest of the second rise he strained his eyes 
 after Miss Baggs. Nothing appeared to denote her 
 presence on the landscape except a horse in harness, 
 which he dragged in the dust, trotting back toward a 
 heap of rubbish on the road. A sudden dread took 
 possession of the corporal. It was plainly evident 
 there had been an accident. He had been chasing a 
 Confederate telegraph stealer, that he might turn her 
 over to the military, authorities of his own army to be 
 hanged, and now he was suddenly plunged into terror 
 for fear she had been killed. He went on, but with 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 2 5 
 
 a new object distinct in his mind. It was not to 
 injure Miss Baggs, but to succor her. 
 
 He soon came to the heap of splinters and iron 
 which marked the point of collapse of Miss Baggs' 
 buggy. Miss Baggs was not visible. Had she taken 
 to the wood beyond the fork of the road? For a 
 moment there was a delightful sense of relief, but it 
 was soon followed by the animal instinct of the savage 
 chasing an object of prey. Stimulated by this or a 
 return of a sense of duty, or both, he was about to 
 ride into the wood, when looking down on the long 
 grass by the roadside he descried the unconscious 
 body, the face apparently white in death, of the 
 woman he sought. 
 
 In a moment the corporal was off his horse and on 
 his knees beside her. The chase in which he had 
 been so eager, and the cause, were both forgotten on 
 seeing Miss Baggs lying apparently cold in death at 
 his feet. 
 
 "Darlin", are ye hurt?" 
 
 There was agony in the corporal's voice. He put an 
 arm under her head to raise it; with the other he 
 grasped her hands. 
 
 "To the divil's own keeping with the war anyway. 
 What's 't good for, except to injure innocent women 
 and children?" 
 
 In that non-resistance of unconsciousness he forgot 
 that this woman had been engaged in what the world 
 condemns openly, if not secretly, as illegitimate war- 
 fare. To him she was innocent. Not that he rea- 
 soned upon her acts, but because a mysterious some- 
 thing — a breath from spirit land — had made her more 
 
1 2 6 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 to him than all the world beside. He laid his head 
 down upon her breast to listen if the heart beat; he 
 chafed her hands and arms; he took off his cap and 
 fanned her. Still she lay limp in his arms without a 
 sign of life. 
 
 "Darlin', darlin', come back to life. Come back, 
 if it's only long enough to tell nie ye forgive me for 
 me cowardly chasen ye. Oi've killed ye. Oi know 't. 
 Oi wish some one would run a bayonet through me 
 own rotten heart. 
 
 A slight murmur, something like a groan, escaped 
 her. 
 
 "Praise God there's life! If it 'd only grow 
 stronger. Ah, thank Heaven! there's water! " 
 
 Laying her head down in the grass, he went to the 
 side of the road where there was a runnel of clear 
 water. Scooping some of it in his two hands he 
 threw it in her face. 
 
 She opened her eyes. 
 
 Corporal Ratigan never forgot the look with Avhich 
 his prisoner regarded him when she recognized who 
 he was. There were two expressions following each 
 other rapidly — the first, reproach ; but when she 
 noticed the pain with which it was received, it melted 
 into one of tenderness. 
 
 "Ah, Rats," she exclaimed faintly, "how could 
 you do it?" 
 
 He put his great hands — brown from exposure — 
 before his eyes to shut out the face which at every 
 glance kindled some new emotion to rack him. Now 
 that she had come to life, another terror came to him 
 to administer an added torture. He knew that 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. I27 
 
 mounted men were following, that they would soon 
 appear over the crest just behind them, that his pris- 
 oner would be taken, tried, and condemned. 
 
 "They're comen ! They'll be here in a jiffy!" he 
 cried wildly. "Tell me that ye forgive me; tell me 
 that ye don't hate me as I hate meself, " 
 
 "For doing your duty, Rats?" 
 
 "Duty! Is it a man's duty to run down a woman 
 like a hare? Don't talk to me of duty. If ye suffer 
 for this, Oi'll desert and go. back to Oirland; and 
 God be praised if He'll send a storm to sink the ship 
 and me in it." 
 
 Corporal Ratigan was talking incoherently. He 
 was so tortured by the position in which he had 
 placed a woman who, he had now suddenly discov- 
 ered, had captured his heart from the first moment he 
 saw her, that a torrent of words, unmeaning of any- 
 thing save his agony, poured out from his lips like 
 bullets from a repeating rifie. 
 
 "There's a drop in me canteen — a drop of whisky. 
 Will ye take it, darlin' — I mean — I don't know what 
 I'm talken about. Let me put it to ye'r lips. Take 
 a swallow. It'll revive ye. No?" She appeared to 
 be passing back to unconsciousness. "Take it for 
 moi sake, sweetheart. Only take a good swallow an' 
 ye'U be righted." 
 
 She opened her eyes. Evidently she had heard. 
 There was an expression on her face indicating that 
 his words had produced that effect upon her which 
 might be expected in a woman who hears a strong 
 man, unconsciously and unintentionally, declaring his 
 love. 
 
1 2 8 Chick AM A uga. 
 
 "Why do you wish me to live, Rats? Don't let me 
 live. If you do I'll die on the gibbet." 
 
 "Oh, darlin'," he moaned, "don't be talking that 
 way. Oi'U die meself first. Oi'll raise a mutiny. 
 Oi'll " 
 
 He could not go on. His words mocked him. He 
 well knew their futility. "Take a drop, sweetheart; 
 only a drop for moi sake." 
 
 What a change from the day he had jokingly asked 
 her to take an oath for "moi sake." 
 
 "For your sake, Rats; give it to me." 
 
 He put the neck of a battered tin canteen to her 
 lips and she drank a little of the liquid. It produced 
 a beneficial change at once. A tinge of color came to 
 her cheek and she breathed more easily. 
 
 "Now if ye'r buggy were only sound," he said. 
 "I'd put ye in it an' ye could go on. Oi'd ride back 
 and throw them from the scent — the hounds!" 
 
 "No, you wouldn't, Rats. You're an honorable 
 soldier. You have done your duty, and when put 
 face to face with it another time you will do it 
 again." 
 
 "For God's sake, don't tell me Oi'll iver do me 
 duty when it brings death or destruction to you." 
 
 "You will, Rats." 
 
 "Niver. Oi'll brain the man that dares lay a fin- 
 ger on ye, if it's Old Rosey himself." 
 
 A clattering of horses' hoofs, a clanking of sabres, 
 mounted figures standing out against the morning sky 
 on the crest behind them, and three cavalrymen are 
 dashing on to where lies Miss Baggs and kneels the 
 corporal. 
 
CHICK A MAUGA. 1 2 9 
 
 "Promise me, Rats, that you will do nothing fool- 
 ish," she asked pleadingly. 
 
 "O God! O'im going to draw me revolver on 
 'em." 
 
 "Promise." 
 
 "I can't." 
 
 "¥ or f not sake, Rats." 
 
 The faintest trace of a smile, despite her desperate 
 situation, passed over her face as she imitated the cor- 
 poral's pronunciation. The quaint humor, mingled 
 with so many singular traits prominent in her that 
 could show itself at so critical a moment, touched a 
 responsive Irish chord in his Irish heart and brought 
 him to terms. 
 
 "For your sake, darlin', Oi'll do 't," he said, in a 
 despairing voice. 
 
 There was scarcely time for him to speak the words 
 — indeed they were whispered with his lips touching 
 her ear — when the three cavalrymen rode up to where 
 the two were. 
 
 "What's it all about, corporal?" asked one of 
 them. 
 
 "I found this — this lady — lying here. Her buggy 
 is broken — she is badly hurt." The corporal spoke 
 the words haltingly and drops of sweat stood out on 
 his forehead. 
 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 "Well — that's to be found out some other time. 
 One of ye'd better ride back for an ambulance and a 
 surgeon." 
 
 "Never mind the surgeon," said Miss Baggs, 
 faintly. 
 
130 CHICK A MA VGA. 
 
 "Well, bring the ambulance anyway," said Ratl- 
 gan. "Ye can all go back if ye like. Oi'll stay with 
 her. She's me own prisoner." 
 
 "There's no need of all going," said the man who 
 had spoken. "I'll go myself." 
 
 He turned and rode away, while the others dis- 
 mounted and threw the reins of their bridles over a 
 fence rail. One of them caught Bobby Lee, who 
 was cropping the grass near by, occasionally looking 
 up as though suspicious that something had hap- 
 pened. The men loitered about, now and then 
 approaching to take a look at the prisoner, but soon 
 turning away again, quite willing to be free from the 
 responsibility which Corporal Ratigan seemed dis- 
 posed to take upon himself. 
 
 "Rats," said Miss Baggs, who was now rapidly 
 recovering strength and coolness, "it will not be long 
 before I shall be separated from you. Before then I 
 wish to thank you for the kindness, the interest, even 
 the tenderness with which you have treated a fallen 
 enemy. And I wish to ask your forgiveness for the 
 deception I practiced on you once when you were 
 deputed to see me through the lines." 
 
 "What was that compared with what Oi've done?" 
 he moaned. 
 
 "Do you forgive me?" 
 
 "Oi do. But Oi've nothing to forgive." 
 
 "And, Rats, you have unconsciously let me know 
 that you — you feel more kindly toward me than " 
 
 "You've robbed me of me heart intirely." 
 
 "Well, I'm both glad and sorry. It is delightful to 
 be loved, but sad to think that your very love must 
 
CHICK A MA tlCA . 131 
 
 make you grieve. Our meetings have been few and 
 strange — very strange, " she added musingly. "Who 
 are you, Rats? I know you are well-born. I can see 
 it in every word and motion." 
 
 "Oi'm second son of Sir Thomas Ratigan, Es- 
 quire, of County Cavan, Oirland. At his death me 
 older brother succeeded to the estate. So I came to 
 America to shift for meself. A year ago Oi enlisted 
 in the Union ranks and here Oi am. Oi wish to God 
 me brother was in his coffin and Oi in possession of the 
 estates, that Oi could give them all to save your life." 
 
 "No, no. Rats. You area soldier and an honor- 
 able man. Remember what I have told you. You 
 will do your duty hereafter as you have done it here- 
 tofore. Your words in that respect are meaningless. 
 Your sense of honor will always triumph over your 
 sympathy when that sympathy is alloyed with dis- 
 honor. For this I have conceived for you an un- 
 bounded respect. Perhaps — were I not so soon to 
 be " 
 
 "Don't speak 't; for God's sake don't speak 't." 
 
 "Well, Rats, we will try, for the brief time we shall 
 be together, to fix our minds on a pleasant picture. 
 Let us think of that day when the South will be inde- 
 pendent, or at least when North and South will be at 
 peace. This region, now trodden by soldiers wearing 
 .the blue and the gray, will be given up to those simple 
 people who till the soil. Instead of the sound of 
 shotted guns there will be the lowing of cattle. In- 
 stead of the singing of minie balls there will be the 
 songs of birds. There will be peace, blessed peace. 
 Oh, if I could only live to see it. Then perhaps I 
 
1 3 2 CHICK A MA UGA. 
 
 may take you by the hand and say to you But, 
 
 Rats, this can never be for us. It is only a fancy 
 picture I've drawn to relieve that terrible suffering I 
 see in your face. You've aged ten years in as many 
 minutes. Don't look at me in that dreadful way, I 
 can't bear it." 
 
 The two cavalrymen's backs were turned. They 
 were strolling toward the woods. Ratigan put his 
 arms about her and both yielded to a long embrace. 
 There were no more words spoken. Words would 
 have added nothing to what both felt. There was 
 more pain and more pleasure concentrated in the 
 bosom of each than had been there in all the years 
 they had lived. 
 
XIII. 
 
 "turned over." 
 
 I^^HERE was a rattling of wheels on the soft road, 
 . and looking up, Ratigan saw the messenger return- 
 ing, followed by an ambulance. Driving to Miss 
 Baggs, who was still lying in the grass, the driver 
 backed it up to her, while the messenger dismounted 
 and opened the door. The cavalrymen stood ready 
 to lift the prisoner into the vehicle. But Miss Baggs 
 waved them all away except the corporal, and taking 
 his hand rose to her feet and stood for a moment sup- 
 ported by him. The effort was too much for her ; her 
 head fell on his shoulder, and for a moment she lost 
 consciousness. Ratigan took her off her feet and, 
 lifting her into the ambulance, laid her on the cush- 
 ions. 
 
 "Oi'll ride at the foot," he said to the others. 
 "One of ye lead me horse." 
 
 The men were relieved at this proposition ; for the 
 care of a woman in such a condition was by no means 
 pleasing, and they feared she might die before they 
 could get her into camp, and turn her over to some 
 one else. Ratigan sat at the foot of the vehicle, with 
 his feet on the step, while the men, seeing that their 
 prisoner was in no condition to escape, besides being 
 guarded by the corporal, gave her no especial care, 
 riding together some twenty paces ahead. 
 
 133 
 
134 ChIcKamaVGa. 
 
 "Darlin*," whispered Ratigan, as soon as they 
 were out of hearing. 
 
 She opened her eyes. He leaned forward and 
 caught one of her hands. It was cold as ice. 
 
 "Ah, Rats, where am I? Where are you taking 
 me?" 
 
 "Don't ask me," he answered with a groan. "Are 
 ye better?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. I'm not badly hurt. I'm bruised, and 
 I've had a shock. But what matters it how I am?" 
 
 "If it were only night, ye might slip out and 
 away." 
 
 "But it isn't night. Rats, and you are guarding 
 me." 
 
 "A fine guard I'd make if there were a chance for 
 ye to get out of this." 
 
 She gave a groan as the driver carelessly passed 
 over a rut. 
 
 "You wouldn't see me go, when your duty is — to 
 keep me? would you, Rats?" she asked languidly and 
 mechanically. 
 
 "Not I. I'd shut me eyes as tight as iver I 
 could." 
 
 They came to the place where each had succes- 
 sively emerged from the camp through which Ratigan 
 had followed her before daylight, and found the road 
 lined with soldiers, whose curiosity brought them there 
 to see the woman who had succeeded in breaking 
 through a whole chain of guards. They had all heard 
 of the exploit, and crowded around tlie ambulance as 
 it passed, but were kept away by the guards in attend- 
 ance, who dropped back to the sides and rear. This 
 prevented any further conversation between Ratigan 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 135 
 
 and Miss Baggs, except an occasional whisper; but the 
 corporal managed to keep her hand in his under a blan- 
 ket, unobserved. At last the ambulance pulled up be- 
 fore the headquarters of the division whose camp they 
 had entered, and Ratigan suddenly became conscious 
 of the fact that he must turn his prisoner over to others, 
 doubtless to be dealt with summarily, for he well knew 
 the case would naturally receive prompt attention. 
 
 "Oh, darlin'," he exclaimed, "Oi must part with 
 ye. What'U Oi do?" 
 
 "Keep steady, Rats. You couldn't help it. It 
 was fated. OrratherHeintended.it." She cast her 
 eyes mournfully, but with the light of faith in them, 
 upward. "I only regret that my people will receive 
 no benefit in my death." 
 
 An officer, with a captain's shoulder straps, came out 
 from headquarters and surveyed the ambulance. He 
 was a dapper little fellow, fat and red-faced. 
 
 "Who've you got there?" he asked of Ratigan. 
 
 "A lady, sir." 
 
 "The woman who ran the guards last night?" 
 
 *'0i captured her on the road below." 
 
 "H'm. The guard duty of this division is in a fine 
 condition when a woman can run a whole chain of 
 sentinels. Get her out o' that." 
 
 "She's badly hurt, captain," said Ratigan, who had 
 stepped down onto the ground and saluted. 
 
 "I can alight," said Miss Baggs feebly. And get- 
 ting as best she could to the door of the ambulance, 
 Ratigan helped her out. She looked faint, but stood 
 by the aid of the corporal's arm. 
 
 "Take her in to the general," said the little cap- 
 tain; "he wants to see her." 
 
136 CHICKAMA UGA. 
 
 As the tent was an ordinary wall tent, there was no 
 great room in it. Miss Baggs went inside, while the 
 corporal stood directly outside with his hand on the 
 tent pole. 
 
 "What's she been up to, corporal?" asked the gen- 
 eral, a man who seemed to realize perfectly the 
 importance attaching to his position. 
 
 "How do Oi know, general? Oi simply chased 
 her and caught her." 
 
 "Have you anything to say for yourself?" asked 
 the general of the prisoner. 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "What were you doing, corporal, when you gave 
 chase?" 
 
 "Guarding the telegraph line." 
 
 "And what was she doing; taking off dispatches?" 
 
 "Oi didn't see her doen 't, general." 
 
 "I must have you searched," said the general to 
 the prisoner. Then he added, somewhat hesitatingly, 
 "it's rather awkward not having a woman in camp." 
 
 "I will relieve you of the necessity," said the pris- 
 oner with dignity; and putting her hand into her 
 pocket she drew forth a bundle of papers which she 
 handed to him. 
 
 "What are these?" asked the surprised commander. 
 
 "Copies of intercepted telegrams." 
 
 The general uttered an exclamation, and taking the 
 papers ran them over with his eye. 
 
 He looked up at the woman, who, save for the pallor 
 occasioned by her fall from the collapsed buggy, stood 
 apparently unmoved. There was admiration in the 
 eye of the man who gazed at her. He could not but 
 
CHICKAMA UGA. I37 
 
 wonder at the daring that had enabled her to remain 
 within the Union lines sufficiently long to capture 
 dispatches bearing dates from June to the middle of 
 September; he was astonished at the coolness with 
 which she handed him documents that would warrant 
 his hanging her to a tree without a moment's delay; 
 and above all there was about her a divine conscious- 
 ness of having done a duty, a look of triumph under 
 defeat that compelled his reverence, as well as his 
 admiration. 
 
 "Are you aware," he said, "that with these dis- 
 patches in your possession, and beyond our lines, you 
 would hold this army at your mercy?" 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "And that captured with them on your person your 
 life is forfeited?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 There are people who cannot brook a steady stand 
 in one who may be naturally expected to break down 
 in their presence. The general was one of these. In 
 proportion as he admired her firmness, was his desire 
 to force her to show some giving way. He did not 
 analyze his feelings and attribute his desire to any 
 such cause; he yielded to it without realizing that the 
 cause existed. 
 
 "The natural method of procedure in this case," 
 he said, looking at her sternly, "is for me to report 
 your capture and the circumstances attending it to 
 headquarters. Do you remember the case of the two 
 Confederate spies captured when this army was in 
 front of Murfreesboro, during the past summer?" 
 
 "I have heard something of it." 
 
1 3 8 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "Two Confederate officers came into our lines in 
 United States uniform, one of them bearing forged 
 papers as inspector-general in the United States army. 
 They left the colonel, whose lines they first entered, 
 at evening, to go on their tour of inspection. Sus- 
 pecting something wrong, they were recalled and 
 detained while the case was reported. Word came 
 back that there were no such officers in the United 
 States army; that they were doubtless spies, and the 
 colonel was directed to try them by "drum-head" 
 court-martial and hang them at daylight the next 
 morning, or instructed to that effect."* 
 
 While the general spoke he watched his prisoner 
 closely. 
 
 "But how does this concern me, general?" she 
 asked calmly. 
 
 A slight color came to his cheek at this failure to 
 impress her. 
 
 "I will tell you, since you do not seem in a state of 
 mind to readily draw conclusions. I report your case 
 to headquarters. Word comes back to try you by 
 'drum-head' court-martial and hang you to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Well, that is the end of the story." 
 
 There was silence for a few moments, while they 
 regarded each other. 
 
 "It is «^/ the end of the story, general. The story 
 
 of a life has no end. Death is but a transition. I 
 
 shall pass through it, as a chrysalis is transformed. 
 
 It pleases the Great Commander to assign me a fruit- 
 
 * A historical fact. 
 
CHICK A MA VGA . 139 
 
 less task. It is not for me to ask why. I am but one 
 of His soldiers, fighting with my brothers — for my 
 people." 
 
 She had conquered. There was something so forci- 
 ble in her words, something so truly grand in her 
 manner, that the man who would break her spirit 
 desisted. He regarded her admiringly and was 
 silent. 
 
 "All I ask, general," she said presently, seeing 
 that he did not speak, "is that there be no greater 
 delay than necessary. Now I have a strength which 
 may be worn away by long waiting, with death staring 
 me in the face." 
 
 Still the officer did not speak. He was thinking — 
 thinking how he could get rid of so unpleasant a duty 
 as the trial and execution of this splendid woman. 
 He feared that should he report her capture to head- 
 quarters, he would get the same reply as in the case 
 he had cited. 
 
 "/will not harm you," he said presently. "Some 
 one else must take the responsibility of this complica- 
 tion of death and a woman." 
 
 "It does not matter who does the work, so long as 
 it must be done." 
 
 "Perhaps not to you. It matters a great deal to 
 me. My hands are clean; I don't care to stain 
 them." 
 
 While this conversation was going on Corporal 
 Ratigan was listening and observing the speakers 
 with a palpitating heart. There was something so cold 
 cut in the general's tones that the corporal felt a 
 repugnance at his prisoner being in his especial keep- 
 
I40 CHICK AM A UGA. 
 
 ing. He preferred that she should be sent to some 
 one else, and was relieved when he announced his 
 intention to shift the responsibility. Besides, the 
 corporal hoped that he would himself be intrusted 
 with her keeping until she should arrive at some camp 
 where the commander would be willing to receive her. 
 
 "Shall Oi take her to headquarters, general?" he 
 asked, 
 
 "Ah, my man," said the general, as though awak- 
 ened from a reverie, "are you here? I had forgotten 
 you." 
 
 "Oi can conduct her to headquarters if you desire 
 it, general." 
 
 "I am not in the habit of receiving suggestions 
 from my brigade or regimental commanders, much 
 less a corporal." 
 
 Ratigan saw tliat he had made a mistake and said 
 nothing. The general regarded him with his shrewd 
 eyes. It was plain to him that the man was inter- 
 ested in his prisoner. 
 
 "Corpora], you may go to your camp." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The corporal brought his hand up in salute. His 
 soldierly deference was all that he could give to the 
 general; his heart, his eyes, were all for the pr'soner. 
 He stood for a moment with his hand at his cap, 
 while his glance, full of meaning, full of despair, 
 rested on Miss Baggs. She returned it with one of 
 encouragement. The weaker physical woman was 
 supporting the stronger physical man. 
 
 "Well, corporal, are you going?" 
 
 "I am, sir." 
 
CHICKAMA UGA. 141 
 
 Yet for a moment the corporal could not withdraw 
 his eyes. The order was imperative; the general was 
 waiting. At last he turned abruptly, and strode away 
 rapidly without once looking back. 
 
 "Orderly," called the general to a man standing 
 near, "take this woman to the ambulance." 
 
 As Miss Baggs passed out the eyes of the two were 
 fixed again on each other. While the general did not 
 use words, he could not resist a last attempt with his 
 presence, his masterful countenance, his piercing eyes, 
 to overawe his prisoner. She met that gaze firmly, 
 unflinchingly, till she was without the tent, then with 
 a final glance of contempt she turned and walked 
 toward the ambulance. 
 
 The general called her back. 
 
 "You do not seem well satisfied with my treatment 
 of you," he said, in a tone in which there was some- 
 thing of sarcasm. "We soldiers must do our duty." 
 
 "It is not your doing your duty, general, that fails 
 to win my respect; it is that you have not the manli- 
 ness to do it yourself, but must needs put it upon 
 some one else." 
 
 Again the two pairs of eyes met and clashed. The 
 victory was with the woman. The general lowered 
 his to the ground. 
 
 "You may go," he said. 
 
 As soon as she was gone he went to a tent where 
 there were writing materials, and wrote a note, which 
 he sealed and addressed. Giving it to the little cap- 
 tain he directed him to send it, with the prisoner and 
 the dispatches captured on her, to the officer whose 
 name was on the envelope. 
 
XIV. 
 
 AN UNWELCOME PRISONER. 
 
 IT was eight o'clock in the morning. Colonel May- 
 nard pushed back the tent flap, intending to step 
 outside and go to the mess tent for breakfast. The 
 brightness of the morning seemed reflected in his coun- 
 tenance. His step was firm, his bearing full of 
 youthful, manly vigor. He had been rapidly gaining 
 the confidence of his officers, and was coming to be 
 admired and beloved by his men. All misgivings as 
 to his fitness for his responsible position had melted 
 away. Colonel Mark Maynard was the man most to 
 be envied of those no older than himself in the Army 
 of the Cumberland. 
 
 He had scarcely passed from his tent when, glancing 
 down the road beside which his camp was located, his 
 attention was arrested by an ambulance coming slowly 
 along driven by a man in a soldier's blouse and smok- 
 ing a short clay pipe. On either side rode a cavalry- 
 man. The colonel paused to watch the coming 
 vehicle and its attendants. Had it not been guarded 
 he would have supposed it to contain a sick soldier 
 going to hospital. As it was, it must either hold an 
 officer of high rank or a sick or wounded prisoner. 
 Whatever it contained, there came to the man watch- 
 ing it an uncomfortable feeling that it was in some 
 way a link between himself and misfortune. The 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 43 
 
 bright, happy look of a moment before disappeared, to 
 be replaced by a troubled expression, though he 
 could not have given a reason for foreboding. When 
 the ambulance stopped opposite his tent he muttered 
 with a knitted brow: 
 
 "What does this mean?" 
 
 One of the attendants dismounted, went to the door 
 of the ambulance, opened it, and handed out a woman, 
 who descended to the ground with some difficulty, as 
 though in a weakened condition. The two then came 
 directly to where Colonel Maynard was standing. 
 
 The woman was attired in a striped calico dress; 
 her head and face were bare. The colonel knew at a 
 glance that he had seen her before, but could not tell 
 where. She walked slowly, for she seemed scarcely 
 able to drag herself along, and he had time to study 
 her features as she came on. The two stopped before 
 him; the soldier saluted, and drawning an envelope 
 from his belt handed it to Colonel Maynard. The 
 colonel took it without looking at it. He was still 
 studying the features of the woman. 
 
 "A communication from General , colonel," 
 
 said the man who handed him the paper. As the 
 soldier spoke Colonel Maynard recognized the woman 
 he had met at Mrs. P'ain's. His hand trembled as he 
 grasped the envelope and tore it open. 
 
 Headquarters Division, 
 
 Army of the Cumberland, 
 
 In the Field, September — , 1862. 
 Colonel Mark Maynard, 
 
 Commanding th Cavalry Brigade. 
 
 Colonel : I send you a voman who this morning was 
 caught tampering with the telegraph line, and who 
 
i44 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 has evidently been taking off our dispatches. Being 
 in transit and about to move on this morning, I take 
 the liberty of sending her to you under guard, with the 
 suggestion that you do with her as seems best to you. 
 I have use for the limited number of men present for 
 duty on my escort, and this is my apology for trou- 
 bling you. Yours is the nearest command to which I 
 can send her. 
 
 I am very respectfully 
 
 Your ob't serv't, 
 
 Brig. Gen. 
 
 Colonel Maynard read the missive over twice, 
 slowly, without looking up. He had not read a 
 dozen words before he knew that he held in his pos- 
 session one whose life was forfeited as his own life 
 had been forfeited to the Confederates a year before. 
 His keeping his eyes on the paper was to gain time — 
 to avoid speaking when his utterance was choked with 
 a strange emotion. His thoughts were far away. He 
 stood on the bank of the Tennessee River, below 
 Chattanooga. It was in the gray of the morning. 
 He saw a skiff tied to the shore. He jumped down 
 to seize it and found himself among a group of Con- 
 federate soldiers. Personating a member of General 
 Bragg's staff, he commanded them to row him across 
 the river. They started to obey. As they left the 
 shore, suddenly a boat swung around Moccasin Point. 
 It was full of armed men. He was taken back to 
 Chattanooga, tried, and condemned to be hanged for 
 a spy. 
 
 All this passed before his mind's eye as he stood 
 pretending to study the communication before him. 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 145 
 
 Not this bare statement of it, but each detail, each 
 feeling of hope, fear, despair, as they rapidly suc- 
 ceeded each other from the moment of his capture 
 till his escape and safe return to the Union lines. 
 
 Looking up at last with an expression of commiser- 
 ation which surprised the prisoner, he said: 
 
 "Madam, will you please accept my heartfelt sym- 
 pathies." 
 
 Miss Baggs, who had already recognized Colonel 
 Maynard, simply bowed her head in acknowledgment 
 without speaking, but fixing her large dark eyes upon 
 his. When placed in a similar position Maynard had 
 met his enemy's glance with affected coolness, in a 
 vain hope of deception. Not so the woman before 
 him. The time for deception had passed with her. 
 She was a Charlotte Corday, knowing that the guillo- 
 tine awaited her — a martyr in whose eyes gleamed the 
 divine light of a willing sacrifice to a cause she be- 
 lieved to be sacred. 
 
 The colonel spoke again : 
 
 "Madam," he said, "it is my duty to report your 
 case to my commanding officer for transmission to the 
 headquarters of this army. There is a little house 
 across the road; if you are able to go there, you will 
 be more comfortable while we are awaiting the 
 reply." 
 
 "As you like, colonel." 
 
 "Perhaps it would be better to use the ambu- 
 lance." 
 
 "I can walk. I would prefer it." 
 
 "Will you accept of my assistance?" 
 
 She took his offered arm and the two walked slowly 
 
i 4 ^ CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 toward a farmhouse a few hundred yards distant. As 
 the colonel passed a sentry he directed him to have 
 the officer of the guard summoned and sent to him. 
 On reaching the house and mounting the few steps 
 that led up to the door, they were received by a 
 farmer's wife and ushered into a small sitting-room. 
 Bowing to the prisoner, Colonel Maynard stepped 
 outside to instruct the guard. It was not essential 
 that he should hasten, but he did not feel equal to an 
 interview. 
 
 After seeing a sentinel posted on each side of the 
 house Maynard turned to go to his tent. He was 
 drawn by some unaccountable instinct to look once 
 more at the abode of his prisoner. She was gazing 
 out at him, with a pair of eyes melancholy, unresist- 
 ing, full of resignation. 
 
 What fiend had suddenly thrown this beautiful 
 woman, this queen of martyrs, into his keeping; with 
 death staring 'her in the face, and he, perhaps, to 
 inflict the penalty? Why, if he must suffer this turn- 
 ing of the tables by Fate, could not the victim have 
 been a man? some coarse creature who would die 
 like a brute? And why had it not come upon him 
 before love had introduced him to that instinctive 
 delicacy, that gentleness, those finer heart impulses of 
 woman ? 
 
 "OGod!" he murmured, "suppose — suppose she 
 were — Laura?" 
 
 He could not bear to look, and could not turn 
 away. For a few moments the two gazed upon each 
 other, while the woman's natural feminine discern- 
 ment told her that she was pitied; told her something 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 4 1 
 
 of what Maynard suffered ; that her enemy was really 
 her friend. She gave him a faint smile in recogni- 
 tion. 
 
 There was something in the smile that was even 
 harder for him to endure than had she shed a tear. 
 Hers was a winning smile, and her position was so 
 desperate. She was so brave, so ready to sacrifice for 
 her struggling people. She bore her trial with such 
 gentleness, yet with such firmness. 
 
 She was a woman, and she tniist die. 
 
 He turned almost fiercely and strode back to his 
 tent. Reaching it, he found the man who had brought 
 the prisoner, waiting for him. The soldier saluted 
 and handed him another envelope. 
 
 "Why did you not give me this with the other?" 
 asked Maynard, surprised. 
 
 "I handed it to you, colonel, but you did not see 
 it." 
 
 Maynard stared at the man without making any 
 reply. He had been preoccupied, deprived of his 
 ordinary faculties. Opening the envelope, he took 
 out a small bundle of papers, on the back of which was 
 endorsed : 
 
 " Intercepted dispatches found on the person of Eliza- 
 beth Baggs, captured September — th, 1863." 
 
 Without looking at their contents he dismissed the 
 man who had brought them, and turning, went into 
 his tent. 
 
 The hours were long while he waited the return of 
 the messenger he sent to report the presence of the 
 prisoner at his camp. He hoped that he would be 
 
14^ CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 directed to send her forward. Why had he not thought 
 to do so, without first reporting her capture? Such 
 a course would have been no shirking of a duty, and 
 they would likely have kept her and attended to her 
 case at headquarters. Now they might leave her with 
 him. They might order him to try, and execute her. 
 He ground the heel of his boot into the soil and cursed 
 his want of forethought. 
 
 "Orderly!" he cried. "Mount quick! Ride after 
 the courier who went to headquarters — No. Never 
 mind; it is too late; you couldn't overtake him." 
 
 It was not too late for a courier to overtake the one 
 who had gone, and Maynard knew it. He had sud- 
 denly changed his mind. He had a vague dread at 
 sending the prisoner away. While she was with him 
 perhaps some way might be found to save her. In the 
 hands of those who were not especially interested in 
 her, her doom was sealed. No, he was not prepared 
 to part with her. 
 
 He paced back and forth in front of his tent like a 
 sentry on post. The members of his staff saw that 
 tliere was something unusual weighing on his naturally 
 buoyant spirits, and left him to himself, not address- 
 ing him on any matter, except of moment. It was 
 necessary that his report should go first to division, 
 then to corps, and then to general headquarters, and 
 likely the answer would come back by the same rounds 
 of the military step-ladder. And all this time he was 
 obliged to wait, chafing like a caged lion. 
 
 Miss Baggs' capture came at a very inopportune 
 moment for any chance there might otherwise be for 
 mercy. Following a retreating enemy, the Army of 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 49 
 
 the Cumberland had acquired a dangerous confidence. 
 The nature of its own offensive operations had ren- 
 dered essential a separation of the three different corps 
 of which it was composed. Bragg suddenly had 
 taken a stand with his whole army at Lafayette, 
 whence he could easily strike eith-er one of the Union 
 corps in detail. A dread of disaster was coming to 
 those Union generals, who, with a proper miliiary 
 foresight, took in the situation. Besides, it was known 
 that the Confederates were being heavily reinforced. 
 Instead of the previous blind confidence a cold wave 
 of solicitude crept over the Army of the Cumberland. 
 
 It was noon before the courier sent to announce the 
 capture of Miss Baggs rode up to Colonel Maynard's 
 headquarters and handed him a dispatch. It was as 
 Maynard feared. He was informed that in the pres- 
 ent exigency the matter could not be given attention 
 at general headquarters, but it was deemed important 
 to deal summarily with spies, be they male or female. 
 He was therefore ordered to convene a "drum-head" 
 court-martial, try the prisoner, and if found guilty ex- 
 ecute the sentence, whatever it might be, without 
 delay. 
 
 When Colonel Maynard read this order every ves- 
 tige of color left his face. He could not believe the 
 evidence of his senses. Was it possible that he, Mark 
 Maynard, once condemned to be executed for a spy, 
 was called upon to superintend the trial and the exe- 
 cution which would doubtless follow, of another, for 
 the same offense, and that other a woman? Yet there 
 were the instructions duly signed "By order," and 
 only one meaning could be attached. He held it 
 
i 5 o CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 listlessly in his hand for a while, and then handed it 
 to his chief of staff. 
 
 "At what hour shall the court come together, 
 colonel?" 
 
 "I presume at once. The order so directs; doesn't 
 it?" 
 
 "How about the witnesses?" 
 
 "You will have to send to the source from which 
 the prisoner came to us." 
 
 "In that event I will fix the hour for three o'clock 
 this afternoon. The judge advocate will require a 
 little time to prepare the charges and specifications." 
 
 "As you think best." 
 
 Colonel Maynard turned and went into his tent. 
 Hours passed and he did not come out. "The colo- 
 nel is in trouble," said one. "They say he was once 
 in the secret service himself," said another. "Then 
 he knows how it is to be in such a fix as the woman 
 up in that house." "He's been there." "It was at 
 Chattanooga a year ago. They say he brought the 
 news of Bragg's advance into Kentucky." "Well, if 
 he has to execute a sentence of death on a spy, and 
 that spy a woman, I wouldn't be in his boots for the 
 shoulder straps of a major general." 
 
 And so the comments went on while the colonel 
 kept his tent and Miss Baggs peered dreamily out of 
 the window, watched by guards. 
 
XV. 
 
 TRIED. 
 
 WHEN Corporal Ratigan left Miss Baggs with the 
 general, to whom he had unwillingly conducted 
 her, he was in such a condition of mind that he forgot 
 all about his horse and started to walk toward his 
 camp. When a cavalryman shows such evidence of 
 absence of mind, it is a sure sign that he is in a con- 
 dition bordering on insanity. Ratigan walked some 
 distance before it occurred to him that he was pursu- 
 ing an unusual means of locomotion; then he turned 
 back to get his horse. When he arrived at the place 
 from which he had departed. Miss Baggs had gone. 
 Mounting, he rode to his own camp, and upon reach- 
 ing there he first went directly to his tent ; then, shun- 
 ning his comrades, stole away to a wood and threw 
 himself on his face in the shade of a large tree, and 
 gave himself up to grief. 
 
 It is difificult to recognize in this lugubrious person 
 the man who half a dozen hours before was dashing 
 on in a mad chase after the very woman whose capture 
 now so distressed him. But the transitions of war are 
 rapid and unexpected. Its lights are brighter, its 
 shadows far deeper than in ordinary life. Then to 
 the corporal had come that greatest of all complica- 
 tions, a moving of the luiman heart. For months he 
 had dreamed of Betsy Baggs ; he had found himself 
 
1 5 2 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 thinking of her in his waking hours, on the march, 
 on picket, amid the roaring of guns. He had sought 
 to banish that picture of her standing in her buggy 
 after having duped him, which had so long haunted 
 him, and had failed. But Corporal Ratigan had 
 never been in love, and was entirely unacquainted 
 with the symptoms. Suddenly circumstances had 
 brought about an interview with her under a strange 
 situation. Then he had discovered what it was that 
 had been tormenting him so long. 
 
 The corporal, lying on his face, unmindful of the 
 sweet rustling of the leaves above him, his mind 
 tossed hither and thither by Miss Baggs of the past. 
 Miss Baggs of the present, Miss Baggs whom he had 
 been instrumental in capturing, and Miss Baggs 
 treated as a spy, was not the soldier he had been. 
 From a man of brass, he had become a man of clay. 
 
 "O Lord, O Lord," he moaned, "if they'd organ- 
 ized corps of lovely women to be attached to each 
 division of the army and the enemy, there'd be no more 
 fighting for either cause. Each would fight the other 
 about the women and the cause would have to take 
 care of itself." 
 
 "Corporal Ratigan!" 
 
 The corporal put his hands to his ears and groaned. 
 
 ''Corporal Ratigan, I say." 
 
 Still the corporal would not hear. He knew that 
 some one was approaching, for whether he would or 
 not he could not help hearing his name called, each 
 time more distinctly. Presently a soldier stood look- 
 ing down at him. 
 
 "Corporal Ratigan," he said, "ye'r wanted at the 
 
chickamauga: i53 
 
 headquarters of Colonel Maynard, commanding the 
 th brigade." 
 
 "What's that for?" asked the corporal, without 
 changing his position. 
 
 "Witness for court-martial." 
 
 WHiy will people ask questions explanatory of dis- 
 agreeable events or misfortunes, the answers to which 
 they know well enough already? And why, when the 
 information comes, will they deny its truth? 
 
 "If ye say that again, Conover, Oi'll brake every 
 bone in ye'r body." 
 
 "What's the mather wid ye, corporal?" 
 
 Ratigan by this time had got up from the ground, 
 where he was lying, and approached his tormentor. 
 
 "Don't ask me, Conover, me boy." 
 
 "Why, Rats, ye're looken as if ye were goen to be 
 tried ye'rself." 
 
 "Tried? Oi'm to suffer on the rack as one o' me 
 ancesters did once in the old Tower in I>unnon." 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 "Oh, don't ask me, don't ask me. Oi can niver 
 endure this trial. Oi'll doi, Oi'll doi." 
 
 "Come, brace ye'rself, me boy. Ye're in no 
 condition to be goen before a court. What is it all, 
 anyway?" 
 
 "What is it all? A woman to be tried for her 
 life. And I caught her. Oi'm to bear witness 
 against her. O God, if they'd let me off by tying me 
 up by the thumbs, bucking and gagging, carrying a 
 log on me shoulders, drummed out o' camp with 
 shaved head and feathers behind me ears, Lord, 
 O Lord, Oi'll doi, Oi'll doi." 
 
154 'CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 The corporal mounted his horse and was soon jog- 
 ging along at a snail's pace toward Colonel Maynard's 
 headquarters. There was a problem in his brain 
 which he was revolving. It was the question of leav- 
 ing the case of the United States versus Elizabeth 
 Biggs without a witness. This, of course, meant 
 desertion. Desertion meant, if caught, being riddled 
 by a file of his own comrades. This did not impress 
 Ratigan so unfavorably, considering the terrible con- 
 dition of mind he was in, but he doubted if this 
 course would save Miss Baggs. If his desertion, even 
 should it result in his own ignominous death, would 
 save the life of the woman who was to be tried that 
 afternoon, he would desert at once. But there were 
 the dispatches found on her person. Why did neither 
 of them think to destroy them? Miss Baggs certainly 
 would have thought of it, except for two reasons: 
 First, she had been dazed by her fall; second, there 
 were love passages going on at the time the work 
 should have been done, between her and Ratigan, 
 which occupied the attention of both to the exclusion 
 of all else. Ratigan put his good sense in command 
 and it told him that his desertion would probably not 
 save Miss Baggs. Then he remembered her singular 
 confidence that he would in any event do his duty, 
 and her wish that he should do it. This settled the 
 matter and the corporal was saved from the ignominy 
 of desertion. He rode on and dismounted at the 
 house where the court was already assembled. 
 
 "Corporal Ratigan, you're late," said the president 
 sternly. 
 
 The corporal saluted, but said nothing. He was 
 
CHICKAMAVGA. 155 
 
 directed to wait till some preliminaries had been 
 disposed . of, and he took position in a corner. It 
 needed all the strength of which he was possessed to 
 maintain himself on his legs, and he tried to keep his 
 eyes from looking about the court room. He feared 
 that if they rested on the prisoner, even for a moment, 
 he would sink down on the floor, a heap of blue uni- 
 form and boots. Nevertheless the eyes will not 
 always be controlled. Despite his efforts, Ratigan's 
 gave involuntary glances here and there, until sud- 
 denly they rested on the object they were expected to 
 avoid, sitting opposite, surrounded by guards, pale, 
 but self-possessed, and a pair of glorious eyes looking 
 at him with such sympathy and encouragement that 
 the poor man felt as if the windows of Heaven had 
 been opened and an angel was looking out to give hnn 
 strength. Once his eyes were riveted on hers there 
 was no getting them away, until he was suddenly 
 aroused by a voice, 
 
 "Corporal Ratigan!" 
 
 Mechanically he staggered to a place designated as 
 a witness-stand, and holding on to the back of a chair 
 steadied himself to give his testimony. 
 
 "State how you first saw the prisoner tampering 
 with the telegraph line on yesterday morning, Sep- 
 tember — th," said the judge advocate, an officer very 
 tall, very slender, and very serious looking. 
 
 "Oi didn't see her at all." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "It was too dark to see anything." 
 
 "Well, state what you did see." 
 
 "I only thought I saw something." 
 
1 5 6 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "Come, come," said the president sternly, "we 
 have no time to waste; tell the story of the capture." 
 
 Thus commanded, the corporal braced himself to 
 give the desired account. 
 
 "Oi was riding to camp — after having posted the 
 relief, and coming along the road — it was the road Oi 
 
 was coming along, Oi — Oi Colonel, it was so 
 
 dark none of ye could have seen ye'r hand before ye'r 
 face." The corporal stopped and gave evidence of 
 sinking on the floor. 
 
 "Well, go on." 
 
 "There was something black in the road, or by the 
 side of 't. Oi stopped to listen. Then Oi thought 
 some one might be tampering with the line — mind ye, 
 Oi only thought it — and Oi called on whoiver it was 
 to surrender. Then Oi heard a 'get up,' and what- 
 iver it was dashed off. Oi followed it as fast as iver 
 Oi could, calling on 'em to stop, and firing me 
 Colt. Divil a bit did anyone stop." 
 
 The corporal paused again. It looked as if he 
 were not going to get any further. 
 
 ' 'Go on, my man." 
 
 "Well, then we came to the camp of General 's 
 
 division, and I was halted by the guards, while what 
 Oi had seen got ahead. So Oi lost sight of it en- 
 tirely." 
 
 "Proceed." 
 
 "Well wasn't it the fault of the guards stopping me 
 and letting the other go on — and no fault of mine?" 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 "What's the use of going on? Oi lost sight of 
 what was tampering with the wires," 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 157 
 
 "But you overtook it." 
 
 "How can I swear it was the same?" 
 
 There was a smile on the faces of those present. 
 The questioner seemed puzzled at the corporal's 
 device to avoid testifying against the prisoner. 
 
 "Did you not ride on and overtake what you had 
 seen?" 
 
 "Divil a bit." 
 
 "I know better. You went on and found some- 
 thing in the road. What did you find?" 
 
 "Oi didn't find what I'd seen." 
 
 "What had you seen?" 
 
 "Didn't Oi tell ye it was so dark that I couldn't 
 see anything?" 
 
 "That won't do, corporal; you certainly followed 
 something. Now, on coming up with it, what did you 
 find it to be?" 
 
 "It wasn't what Oi followed. That, whatever it 
 was, had gone out with the morning light. Oi reckon 
 it was something ghostly." 
 
 "Nonsense. Did you not find the prisoner lying in 
 the grass?" 
 
 "Oi did," replied the witness, as if his heart would 
 break, and he again showed signs of collapse. 
 
 "And you had reason to believe it was the person 
 driving the buggy you followed?" 
 
 "I didn't see any buggy. It was so dark " 
 
 "Well" — impatiently — "the person driving what- 
 ever it was you saw." 
 
 "How could I know that?" 
 
 "It was natural to infer that, there being a horse and 
 buggy near, the prisoner had been driving it." 
 
158 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 "There was no buggy." 
 
 "Well, the pieces." 
 
 "Nov/, I would ask the court," said Ratigan, steady- 
 ing himself to impress the members with the proba- 
 bility of his position, "if the person or whatever it 
 was I saw tampering with the wire moighten't have 
 turned off on another road an' Oi suddenly lighted on 
 this one." 
 
 "That'll do, corporal; you may step out and give 
 the next witness your place." 
 
 The next witness was an officer from the camp to 
 which the prisoner had first been taken after her cap- 
 ture. He testified that upon a proposition to search 
 her, she had voluntarily produced the dispatches, 
 which were shown to him in court, and he identified 
 them as the same as those she had given up. 
 
 A reading of these dispatches was called for and 
 they were read. 
 
 In addition to those Miss Baggs deciphered when 
 at the Fain plantation, were two others, which were as 
 follows: 
 
 Crawfish Springs, Ga., 
 September 14, 1863. 
 Mobile Burton you when on has from other bob 
 from reinforced Quadroon count us that to wet ap- 
 plause will can your undoubtedly century points 
 orange Benjamin and been coming we join * tele- 
 graphs. 
 
 * Key. The first word, " Mobile," denotes that there are seven 
 lines and four columns. Begin at the top of the second ; down 
 the second, up the first, down the third, up the fourth ; omitting 
 every eighth word. 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 159 
 
 Pinned to this telegram was a paper bearing ?n 
 attempt at explanation in the prisoner's handwritini;. 
 
 To Burton (probably Burnside) 
 
 on your coming 
 
 can we count 
 
 when can we count on your coming? 
 
 Applause (some person, probably the signer) tele- 
 graphs 
 
 been reinforced from 
 
 some one telegraphs that Quadroon (probably 
 Bragg) has been reinforced from other points. 
 
 Washington, September — th, 1863. 
 Potts ready we result condition us if separated goes 
 Jack all badly rapidly attack scattered the twentieth 
 and doodle D shall but I in the but well plaster 
 Arabia are up should present dread the concentrated 
 jet be by should our enemy closing we to.* 
 
 There was no attempted explanation with this tele- 
 gram. Either the prisoner had made no headway 
 with it, or she had not sufficient time; probably both, 
 though it was more difficult to decipher than any 
 of the others. 
 
 These telegrams had been sent to general head- 
 quarters and an interpretation of them furnished, 
 which was read to the court: 
 
 Crawfish Springs, Ga., 
 
 September 14, 1S63. 
 To Burnside: Halleck telegraphs that vou will join 
 us. When can we count on your corning? Bragg has 
 
 * Key. First word, " Potts," denotes that there eight lines and 
 five columns. Go up th- fourth, down the third, up the fifth, 
 down the second, up the first. 
 
1 60 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 undoubtedly been reinforced from Virginia and other 
 
 points. ROSECRANS. 
 
 Crawfish Springs, Ga., 
 
 September i6, 1863. 
 To the Secretary of War: All goes well. We are 
 badly separated, but closing up rapidly. If the enemy 
 should attack us in our present scattered condition, 
 I should dread the result. But by the twentieth we 
 shall be concentrated and ready. D. 
 
 The reading of these dispatches produced an im- 
 pression on the court very unfavorable to the pris- 
 oner. She had held the very life of the army in her 
 hands. Had she got through the lines with these two 
 ciphers and their interpretations she would have 
 supplied the enemy with such information as would 
 put an end to all uncertainty, and insure an attack on 
 the Army of the Cumberland before it could be con- 
 centrated or supported by other troops. This would 
 have resulted in its annihilation. 
 
 There was really no defense to make, and the de- 
 fending counsel simply placed his client on the mercy 
 of the court, hoping that being a woman death might 
 not be the penalty. The room was cleared nnd the 
 verdict considered. The court were not long in con- 
 victing the accused of being a spy and amenable to 
 the treatment of spies; but as to the punishment there 
 was a great diversity of opinion. Some thought that 
 imprisonment in a Northern penitentiary would be a 
 sufficient atonement. There were those who argued 
 that this would not have any effect to deter others 
 from similar acts at a time when the army was in so 
 critical a situation. Then the importance of the dis- 
 
CHICK A MA UGA. 1 6 1 
 
 patches Miss Baggs was attempting to deliver to the 
 enemy; the fact that their delivery would have given 
 any general prompt to take advantage of an army's 
 weakness an opportunity to destroy the Army of the 
 Cumberland, acted seriously upon those who were 
 disposed toward clemency. Some members of the 
 court argued that the prisoner had acted as a man 
 and must take the consequences, the same as if she 
 were a man. There was none but knew that in this 
 view of the case she would be immediately hanged. 
 The disputants soon ranged themselves on opposite 
 sides, the one in favor of an extreme course, the other 
 of a life imprisonment. But the critical position of 
 the army and the enormity of the offense finally won 
 over the latter, and the case was compromised by the 
 convicted woman being sentenced to be shot at sun- 
 rise the next morning. The verdict and sentence 
 were approved within two hours of the finding, and 
 Colonel Mark Maynavd was ordered to see that the 
 sentence was duly carried out. 
 
XVI. 
 
 YOU SHALL NOT DIE. 
 
 SCARCELY bad the court-martial brought in a ver- 
 dict when an order came to Colonel Maynard to 
 move his brigade across the Chickamauga Creek by 
 way of Dyer's Bridge, to be ready early the following 
 day to make a reconnoisance beyond the Pigeon 
 Mountains. He ordered an ambulance for his pris- 
 oner to ride in, since he had no option but to take her 
 with him. The distance to be traversed was but a 
 few miles, and although it was nearly sunset before 
 the command broke camp, it was barely dark when 
 the tents \fere pitched in the new situation. Luckily 
 a house was found for the reception of the prisoner, 
 and the headquarters of the colonel commanding were 
 established near it. 
 
 As soon as Maynard's tent was pitched he went 
 inside and shut hunself up from everyone. The mat- 
 ter of the life in his keeping, his desire to save his 
 prisoner, the impossibility of his doing so except by 
 betraying his trust and conniving at her escape, was 
 weighmg terribly upon him. A desperate struggle 
 between his duty as an officer, and his repulsion at 
 carrying out a sentence upon a woman which had 
 once been passed upon himself, was driving him well- 
 nigh distracted. One thing was certain: he could 
 not save Miss Baggs without sacrificing himself. He 
 
 162 
 
CHICkAMAUGA. 163 
 
 was ready to sacrifice himself if he could do so honor- 
 ably. He might even consider the matter of doing 
 that which he had no right to do, but since the devil- 
 may-care days of his scouting, a new world had 
 opened to him which made the struggle more com- 
 plicated than it would then have been. He had a 
 wife whom he loved devotedly, and any obloquy he 
 might take upon himself must be shared by her and 
 his son. He knew that if he could conceive it to be 
 his duty, or if he could make up his mind without the 
 approval of his conscience, to connive at the prison- 
 er's escape, he would have a fair chance of success. 
 He was charged with the execution, and this would 
 give him power over her person. On the other hand, 
 such a violation of trust was too horrible even for 
 consideration, and if he did not so regard it, the 
 penalty he must suffer — disgrace, if not death — would 
 well-nigh kill his wife. For a long while he revolved 
 these considerations in his mind and at last came to a 
 decision. He would suffer the torture of carrying 
 out the sentence. He would do his duty to his coun- 
 try, his wife, and his son. 
 
 He had scarcely arrived at this decision when a 
 message came from the prisoner asking to see him. 
 
 The racking of his whole nature, which had been 
 partially allayed by his decision, came back to him 
 with the summons. He dreaded an interview. He 
 felt that the resolution he had formed was of too little 
 inherent strength to warrant placing himself under so 
 great a temptation. But his memory took him back 
 to the jail in which he had been confined on the eve 
 of his own intended execution at Chattanooga, and 
 
1 64 CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 he thought how he would have regarded anyone who 
 would refuse him such a request at such a time. He 
 got up, and walked over to the house where the pris- 
 oner was confined. 
 
 He paused a few moments before entering, in 
 order to collect himself, then walked slowly up the 
 steps. The guard stood at attention and brought his 
 piece to a "present," but Maynard did not see him, 
 did not return his salute. He opened the door, 
 entered the house, and in a few minutes was in a 
 room in which the prisoner was confined. She was 
 standing by a window. As he entered she turned and 
 stood with her hands hanging clasped before her, her 
 sorrowful eyes fixed steadily upon him. 
 
 "Colonel Maynard," she said, "I have sent for you 
 to ask you to deliver my last messages. I once met 
 you in the house of one who is dear to you. There I 
 received shelter from the storm which raged without, 
 but which was nothing to me beside another evil that 
 threatened me. I was sore pressed and in great dan- 
 ger of capture. The women in that house — an elderly 
 lady, a young girl who visited there, and your wife — 
 took me in at a great risk to themselves. Your wife 
 certainly had much at stake, for your honor might be 
 involved. I have sent for you now to ask you to say 
 to them that I have treasured their remembrance and 
 their kindness to me." 
 
 She waited a moment for him to accept the trust. 
 She might have waited till the crack of doom, without 
 a reply ; he had no power to utter a word. He 
 simply bowed. 
 
 "I desire also to intrust this keepsake to you, to be 
 sent to my brother." 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 1 6 5 
 
 She took a locket from about her neck, and held it 
 up before him. On it was painted a miniature of a 
 young man in the uniform of a Confederate ofificer. 
 Maynard looked at it, and started back with a cry as 
 if pierced with a red-hot iron. 
 
 "He? he is ?" 
 
 "My brother." 
 
 "O God!" He staggered to the wall and leaned 
 against it, shivering. 
 
 "You know him, colonel. There is no necessity 
 for deceit now. 1 have long known the singular cir- 
 cumstances that surround you and him: that you both 
 loved the same woman; that you won." 
 
 "And that twice — twice he gave me — my life?" 
 
 "That he never told me." 
 
 "Ah! He never told you that?" replied Maynard, 
 a kind of wonder in his tones. 
 
 "When at Mrs. Fain's plantation I discovered 
 under whose roof I was sheltered. Your wife had 
 never seen me, and I determined that it would be best 
 for all that I should not make myself known." 
 
 Maynard stood in amazement at these developments, 
 in horror at the situation, as he now knew it to be. 
 
 "And you are the sister of Cameron Fitz Hugh?" 
 
 "I am. I am Caroline Fitz Hugh." 
 
 " You shall not die." 
 
 When Colonel Maynard spoke these words there was 
 a grandeur in his tone, his figure, the lines of his 
 countenance, the light in his eye, strangely incon- 
 sistent with a resolution he had made the moment 
 before they were uttered. He had on the instant 
 reversed his decision made not ten minutes before to 
 do his duty, in the ordinary acceptance of what that 
 
1 6 6 CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 duty was; he had determined to save the woman 
 before him, even if it were necessary to take upon 
 himself far greater ignominy than the death to which 
 she was sentenced. There was silence between them, 
 during which Miss Fitz Hugh stood looking at him in 
 admiration, mingled with inquiry. She knew that 
 some secret charm was at work within, but she did 
 not know what it was. 
 
 "How can my death be prevented?" 
 
 "I am charged with your execution. I will take 
 you to your lines myself this night." 
 
 What was that subtle influence, far stronger than 
 battalions of infantry or batteries of artillery, which 
 gave it to one not present, unconscious of his power, 
 to hold Mark Maynard over a precipice, and to cast 
 him into a black gulf below? Was it circumstances 
 that had, a year before, led Fitz Hugh to accept the 
 very part Maynard was now called upon to play? 
 Was it love that had given Maynard the bride Fitz 
 Hugh was to have possessed? Was it some invisible 
 fiend that had made Maynard a robber of that bride 
 from the man to whom he twice owed his life, and 
 was now bringing on his punishment? These were 
 indirect causes; but they cannot explain that inex- 
 pressible, intangible sense of honor which will lead a 
 man — to speak paradoxically — to commit a crime, 
 and sacrifice himself at the same time for another. 
 
 The expression on Miss Fitz Hugh's face, as she 
 heard Maynard speak words which would save her 
 from death and give her liberty, underwent a change. 
 For a moment after they were spoken there was a 
 delighted look, but as she realized what they meant to 
 the man who would save her it was transformed into 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 167 
 
 an expression which can only be described as border- 
 ing on the confines of angel land. There was a holy 
 look in her eyes, a radiance of purity from the soul 
 expressed in every feature. There was the super- 
 human attribute of choosing death before life and 
 liberty at the price of wrong. 
 
 "No, colonel, we Fitz Hughs cannot accept sacri- 
 fice, and especially wrong, from others ; we give ; we 
 are not accustomed to receive." 
 
 Maynard stood gazing at her with a look as if, in 
 refusing the sacrifice, she had stabbed him. 
 
 "What then," he said at last, "can I do?" 
 
 "Send the news of my condition, of my ex- 
 pected — "she shuddered at pronouncing the word — 
 "execution to our lines. Knowing that I am con- 
 demned they can bring what influence they may be 
 able, to save me." 
 
 "It will avail nothing." 
 
 "Try it. Fate, luck. Providence works strangely 
 at times. Let us push on and leave the rest to a 
 higher power." 
 
 The colonel looked at his watch. "It is now half- 
 past nine. We are but a few miles from the Confed- 
 erate lines. Your brother is ?" 
 
 "In 's cavalry division and on the Confederate 
 
 right. I heard from him only a few days ago. He 
 was then at Ringold." 
 
 "That is not far from here." 
 
 "There may be time," she said hopefully. 
 
 "Someone must steal through the lines. If not 
 shot, he may accomplish something. In half an hour 
 I shall be " 
 
 "You?" 
 
1 6 8 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "Yes, I! I will not trust this only thread on which 
 your life hangs to anyone else. Though I confess," 
 he added gloomily, "I have no confidence in it." 
 
 "No, colonel, I cannot accept this from you. You 
 are the commander here, and are all that stands be- 
 tween me and death. You must remain here, and 
 send a messenger." 
 
 "Who would I dare intrust with such a message?" 
 
 "Send for the man who captured me, Corporal 
 Ratigan ; let him bear the message." 
 
 "He?" 
 
 The colonel looked at her a moment, as if to ques- 
 tion why this man should be so trusted, but her eyes 
 were lowered. He knew there was a secret which it 
 did not become him to pry into. 
 
 "I will send him, if he can be found at once. If 
 not, I will go myself. And if the mission fails " 
 
 The words were not finished, for he well knew how 
 precious time was, and turning from the room and the 
 house, strode rapidly toward his tent. 
 
 He had gone but a dozen paces before he heard 
 someone call. 
 
 "Colonel!" 
 
 He did not hear. The call was repeated. 
 
 "Colonel!" 
 
 A man approached him, whom in the darkness he 
 did not recognize. 
 
 "Is there no hope, colonel?" the man asked in a 
 choked voice. 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "The man who captured her," pointing to the 
 house. "Oi'll never draw sabre again." 
 
 "Corporal Ratigan?" 
 
CHICK AM A UGA . 169 
 
 "The same," 
 
 "This is fortunate. Come with me." 
 
 The two started together to a thicket, wherein they 
 would neither be observed nor heard. 
 
 "Oi'm hangen round, ye see, colonel. Oi'm away 
 from camp without leave. Oi hope they'll shoot me 
 for a deserter." 
 
 Colonel Maynard did not speak till they reached 
 the thicket. Then turning and facing Ratigan, he 
 said earnestly: 
 
 "You would like to save her, would you not?" 
 
 "God knows I would." 
 
 "Then go to the picket line and get through unob- 
 served, if possible. Go to Ringold and find a Confed- 
 erate officer — Cameron Fitz Hugh, if he is there. 
 Tell him that his sister is condemned to be shot at 
 sunrise to-morrow morning. Say that Colonel Mark 
 Maynard sends him this information, that he may use 
 whatever influence he possesses — take any measures 
 he may consider honorable — to save her. Tell him," 
 the colonel lowered his voice, "that I offered to 
 attempt to do so, taking ruin upon myself, but she 
 would not accept the sacrifice. Go, there is no time 
 to lose. When the sun rises it will be too late." 
 
 "Oh, colonel," cried the man in agony, "there is 
 so little time." 
 
 "Go! It is not yet ten o'clock. We have six 
 hours. ' ' 
 
 The corporal was moving away, when the colonel 
 stopped him. 
 
 "You will need the countersign." 
 
 Ratigan returned, and the colonel whispered it in 
 his ear. "Carnifax Ferry." 
 
XVII. 
 
 ratigan's mission. 
 
 THE extreme left of^the Army of the Cumberland, 
 from which Corporal Ratigan started to go 
 through the lines, was held only by cavalry and 
 mounted infantry, and these widely separated. There 
 was no regular picket line, such as usually exists be- 
 tween armies confronting each other where the differ- 
 ent branches of the service are represented in one 
 continuous line. Consequently the corporal had a far 
 better chance to get through than under ordinary 
 circumstances. Passing over the Pea Vine Ridge, he 
 descended the other side sloping to a small stream 
 called Pea Vine Creek. It was essential that he slip 
 through between the Union vedettes unseen, for if 
 observed he would be taken for a deserter and either 
 shot or sent into the headquarters of his regiment. 
 The videttes were principally on the roads, and the 
 corporal, believing that they would be looking for an 
 enemy on routes over which cavalry could best 
 advance, selected one least advantageous for a horse 
 to follow. Wherever he could find a thick clump of 
 trees or low growth, a knoll, a ravine, indeed any- 
 thing difficult for a horse to pass, he would go over or 
 through it. Now he would stop to listen for some 
 sound such as a horse is liable to make, and now 
 would steal on his hands and knees or crawl on his 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 7 1 
 
 belly over some eminence where, if he should stand 
 upright, his body would make a silhouette against the 
 sky. On crossing a bit of level ground he suddenly 
 heard a horse's "splutter." He was near a clump of 
 bushes, in which he lost no time in concealing himself. 
 A cavalryman rode by within fifty feet of him, walk- 
 ing his horse slowly, the butt of his carbine resting on 
 his right leg, and in a position to be used readily. 
 He was patrolling a beat. Ratigan waited till he had 
 gone past, then darted onward to trees which, from 
 their irregular line, he judged grew beside the creek. 
 He was not disappointed and was soon standing in 
 shallow water, resting for a few minutes under a low 
 bank. 
 
 Ratigan's eagerness to get on, and the consequent 
 temptation to carelessness, were restrained by his 
 remembrance that on his getting safely through de- 
 pended that slender chance on which Caroline Fitz 
 Hugh's life hung. His faculties were strained to 
 their utmost acuteness. Had he been flying for his 
 own life he could not have been so wary. His ears 
 took in the slightest sound; his eyes, soon becoming 
 used to the night, gave him views of distant objects 
 with surprising distinctness; and now, crossing the 
 creek under the shadowing trees, even his touch came 
 to his assistance, and enabled him to grasp roots by 
 which to drag himself upon the other side. 
 
 Once past the creek he felt that one-half his dan- 
 ger was ended. He had doubtless got beyond the 
 range of his own comrades, and now came the greater 
 danger of meeting the Confederate pickets. Men on 
 picket, with an enemy before them, are not apt to trifle 
 
172 CHICK AM A UGA . 
 
 with those coming from their front, and Ratigan knew 
 that if he should suddenly come upon a vedette he 
 would be more liable to receive a shot than a chal- 
 lenge. Leaving the creek he ascended a slight 
 eminence, and made a survey of the surrounding 
 country. All was silent, except that he could hear 
 an occasional sound like a distant burst of laughter, 
 or a shout from the direction of Ringold, in his front. 
 Presently he heard the unmistakable rumble of a train 
 coming from the South. 
 
 "It will pass right down there behind that clump of 
 trees, and go through the cut," said the corporal. "I 
 wonder wouldn't it be a good plan to take advantage 
 of its noise when it passes to slip through the out- 
 posts. They'll be thinking of the train, and I can 
 follow in its wake." 
 
 He advanced cautiously to the trees beside the 
 track, and waited for the train. It came on slowly. 
 Southern railroads at that time were not in a condi- 
 tion to warrant fast traveling, and the road in question 
 was no exception. Ratigan waited perhaps ten min- 
 utes beside the cut through which the train was to 
 pass, but so eager was he to get on, so little time lay 
 between life and death, that it seemed half an 
 hour. 
 
 Presently the headlight of a locomotive shot out 
 from around a curve. The corporal had forgotten 
 that its light would reveal him to the engineer. He 
 crouched down out of sight with a high-beating heart, 
 and none too soon, for had he stayed where he was 
 the light would have shone directly on him. He 
 waited while the engine puffed slowly by. It was 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 173 
 
 drawing a long train of mixed passenger, cattle, 
 and platform cars; every car crowded with 
 troops. 
 
 "They're preparing to give us a brush in earnest. 
 Like enough these are reinforcements," muttered the 
 corporal. 
 
 Ratigan determined to follow the railroad north to 
 Ringold, which he judged to be only a mile distant. 
 The train loaded with Confederate troops having just 
 passed, the guards he might meet would probably not 
 be very suspicious of an enemy. He walked on the 
 track for a short distance, expecting a challenge with 
 every step. 
 
 He received one suddenly, just before entering a 
 wood. A man on horseback aimed a carbine at him 
 and gave the customary: 
 
 "Who comes thar?" 
 
 Ratigan at once threw up his hands, which his 
 challenger could distinctly see, and cried out: " I 
 want you to take me to Colonel Fitz Hugh." 
 
 "What do you want with him?" 
 
 "Do you know him?" 
 
 "He commands a regiment in our brigade." 
 
 Seeing that the corporal held his hands above his 
 head the man permitted him to draw near. Once 
 there Ratigan informed him of the nature of his mis- 
 sion, and begged him for Colonel Fitz Hugh's sake to 
 send him to Ringold at once. The vedette was con- 
 vinced from Ratigan's earnestness that he bore a 
 message of importance, and calling his comrades 
 ordered one of them to dismount. Then taking the 
 precaution to blindfold the stranger, he mounted him, 
 
174 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 and placing a horseman on either side of liim, sent the 
 three clattering toward Ringold. 
 
 It was not a long distance to the town, but all dis- 
 tances, all periods of waiting, seemed long to the cor- 
 poral. Was not the terrible event to take place at 
 sunrise? And now it must be near midnight. 
 
 "What is the time?" he asked of his conductors. 
 
 "Twenty minutes to eleven." 
 
 "Let's go faster. Colonel Fitx Hugh would be as 
 anxious for me to get on as I am myself, if he knew 
 my errand." 
 
 "All right. Let's light out, Pete." And Ratigan 
 felt the motion of a gallop in the horse he rode. 
 
 And now comes a "halt" from a guard, and an 
 answer, followed by "advance and give the counter- 
 sign." One of the men goes forward for the pur- 
 pose. -Then the party goes on again, but what they 
 pass, or where they are going Ratigan knows noth- 
 ing. He only knows that they are moving, and that 
 they are not moving fast enougli to suit him. Pres- 
 ently they stop, and the corporal can hear one of the 
 men dismount. There is a stroke of a clock evidently 
 from a church spire. He counted "one," "two," 
 "three," and on to "eleven." 
 
 "Dismount." 
 
 He lost no time in throwing himself from his horse 
 and was led forward. The air became warmer. He 
 must be in an inclosure. The bandage was taken 
 from his eyes. 
 
 He was standing in a tent lighted by a candle fixed 
 to the end of a stake driven into the ground. There 
 was but one other person present, a Confederate 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 175 
 
 officer. He was a tall, slender young man with long 
 black hair, a mustache and goatee, and an eye honest, 
 respect-inspiring, and with all the gentleness of a 
 woman's. 
 
 "Are you Colonel Fitz Hugh?" asked the corporal, 
 making a salute as if in presence of an officer of his 
 own side. 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "I have a message from your sister." 
 
 Colonel Fitz Hugh turned ashy pale. No one 
 could come to him from her without striking terror 
 into him, for he knew the work in which she 
 was engaged. For months he had lived in dread of 
 her capture. If the messenger had been a citizen or 
 a Confederate soldier, it might not speak so clearly of 
 danger, but coming from a Yankee trooper, quick 
 reasoning told him that she had doubtless met with 
 disaster. 
 
 "Indeed," was all his reply to the corporal's 
 announcement. 
 
 "Oi'm sorry to inform ye, sir," said the corporal, 
 in a voice which he vainly endeavored to keep steady, 
 "that Miss Fitz Hugh, passing under the name of 
 Elizabeth Baggs " 
 
 Fitz Hugh put his hand on Ratigan's arm and 
 stopped him, while he gathered his faculties to bear 
 what he knew was coming. 
 
 "Was pursued by a contemptible cur of a Yankee, 
 who deserves to be hanged for chasing a woman " 
 
 "Yes, yes. Go on." 
 
 "Was captured and " 
 
 "O God!" 
 
1 7 ^ CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "Condemned to be shot for a spy to-morrow morn- 
 ing at sunrise." 
 
 Fitz Hugh sank back on a camp cot and covered 
 his face with his hands. For a few moments the 
 corporal respected his grief by silence, but time was 
 precious, and he soon continued. 
 
 "Thinking ye might exercise some influence to save 
 her, Oi've come to inform ye of the — distressing fact." 
 
 The last two words were spoken in a broken voice. 
 
 "By whose authority?" 
 
 Fitz Hugh rose and stood before the corporal. He 
 had nerved himself for whatever was to follow. 
 
 "Colonel Mark Maynard, commanding the th 
 
 cavalry brigade." 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me," said Fitz Hugh, with a 
 singular, impressive slowness, "that my sister is at the 
 mercy of Mark Maynard 7 " 
 
 "He is charged with her execution." 
 
 Colonel Fitz Hugh shuddered. "That man is my 
 Nemesis," he cried in a voice filled with a kind of 
 despair. 
 
 " 'Tis he that sent me to ye." 
 
 "He?" 
 
 "The same." 
 
 "Does he wish to save my sister?" 
 
 "He does." 
 
 "Why then does he not do so?" 
 
 "He can only save her by his own disgrace. Your 
 sister will not accept tlie sacrifice." 
 
 "A true Fitz Hugh," said the brother proudly. 
 
 "Then Miss Fitz Hugh suggested that he might 
 send me to inform ye of the situation, that ye might 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . IT 7 
 
 have opportunity to use any influence ye would con- 
 sider wise and honorable to secure a reprieve." 
 
 Fitz Hugh thought earnestly with his head bowed, 
 his eyes fixed on a spot on the ground. 
 
 "There is nothing that I can do," he said at last. 
 "Threatened retaliation is the only recourse, and that 
 could not be effected under the circumstances without 
 implicating Colonel Maynard." 
 
 "Then ye see no way open?" asked the corporal 
 despondently. 
 
 "It is impossible for me to act intelligently alone. 
 If I could see Colonel Maynard, perhaps together we 
 might hit upon a plan." 
 
 "Would ye meet him between the lines?" 
 
 "There is not sufficient time." 
 
 "There's five or six hours." 
 
 Fitz Hugh stood pondering for a few moments 
 without reply. Then suddenly starting up, he said: 
 
 "Go tell Colonel Maynard that t will meet him as 
 you suggest. Let the point of rendezvous be — let me 
 see — where do you consider a feasible point? You 
 have just come through." 
 
 "Oi would name the bank of the creek at a point 
 due west of this." 
 
 "How long a time will be required before the meet- 
 ing can take place? It is now a little after eleven." 
 
 "It may be an hour, it may be longer. If ye will 
 be there, colonel, at twelve o'clock, we'll meet ye as 
 soon after as possible." 
 
 "You will find me there at twelve." 
 
 "It would be well, colonel, to concert a signal by 
 which each should know the other." 
 
1 7 8 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "Suggest one." 
 
 "Oi'll doubtless be with Colonel Maynard. Oi'll 
 cry ' Oireland,'' and you can respond " 
 
 " To the rescue." 
 
 Colonel Fitz Hugh called to those waiting outside, 
 who had brought in Corporal Ratigan, and directed 
 theiji to blindfold him and take him to the Federal 
 lines; and, if possible, insure his getting through 
 without injury. They were to report the result to \\\xn 
 in any event. 
 
 Ratigan knew nothing but the gallop of the horse 
 on which he sat, with a handkerchief about his eyes, 
 until the party conducting him drew rein and he was 
 directed to dismount. Then he was asked if he 
 would be escorted to a Union vedette known to be on 
 a road leading around the north end of the ridge, or 
 whether he would go alone. 
 
 "Oi'll go alone," he said. "If ye go with me 
 they'll think it a midnight attack." 
 
 Starting forward, the corporal trudged over a short 
 distance between him and the vedette. As he drew 
 near he began to sing a few lines from a play popular 
 at the time. 
 
 " Thim's the boys 
 What makes the noise, 
 Is the Ry'al ArtillenV." 
 
 "Who comes there?" cried the vedette, cocking his 
 piece as Ratigan came in sight. 
 
 "Friend with the countersign, to be sure! Who 
 d'ye suppose?" 
 
 "Advance, friend, and give the countersign," called 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 7 9 
 
 the man. He was a good deal puzzled at hearing the 
 Irish brogue coming from that direction ; but it reas- 
 sured him; he did not have much fear of an enemy, 
 unless it were a trap to get him at a disadvantage. 
 Ratigan drew near and whispered: "Carnifax Ferry." 
 
 "What are you doing out there?" queried the 
 man. 
 
 "Looken out for trains bringen in troops. One 
 came in half an hour ago loaded." 
 
 "You don't mean it? Guess they're getten in 
 reinforcements." 
 
 "I believe ye, me boy." 
 
 Ratigan walked on toward the camp till he got out 
 of sight of the vedette; then he ran till he dropped 
 breathless in Colonel Maynard's tent. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 A STRANGE MEETING. 
 
 RATIGAN was so exhausted as to be only able to 
 give Maynard a few detached sentences, con- 
 veying some idea as to what he had accomplished. 
 There was little that it was essential should be told 
 except that Colonel Fitz Hugh would meet him 
 between the lines as soon as he could get there. 
 Casting a glance at his watch, Maynard noticed that it 
 was twenty minutes to twelve. The distance to the 
 point of rendezvous, as near as they could estimate it, 
 was two miles. Every minute was precious. It 
 would be midnight before they could meet, and then 
 they would only have about six hours in which to take 
 measures to secure a reprieve. They could only do 
 so by communicating with general headquarters some 
 fifteen miles away. In any event, the case was des- 
 perate. However, Maynard had been used in his 
 scouting days to sudden transitions, and had himself 
 escaped from prison on the very night before his 
 intended execution. Calling his striker he bade him 
 saddle Madge, who, he knew, could carry him over 
 the ground at no laggard pace, and ordering a mount 
 for the corporal at the same time, the two waited im- 
 patiently till both animals were led up before the tent. 
 Mounting, they began to climb the Pea Vine Ridge. 
 Ratigan, who had been over the ground, led the way. 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 8 1 
 
 They reached the top of the ridge, and the corporal 
 pointed out the position on the creek, due west of 
 Ringold, where they were to meet Colonel Fitz Hugh. 
 Descending the slope they came upon a Union vedette, 
 and were challenged with the usual words, "Who 
 comes there?" 
 
 "The colonel commanding, with an orderly, in- 
 specting vedettes." 
 
 They were advanced, gave the countersign, and 
 passed on. Taking a route between two roads, and 
 meeting no more guards, they cautiously approached 
 the place of rendezvous. 
 
 On reaching the bank of the creek they descended 
 it, the corporal riding ahead and peering through the 
 darkness to discover what they were looking for. 
 Presently the dark figure of a horseman emerged from 
 a clump of trees on the opposite bank, and rode for- 
 ward, toward the creek. Ratigan saw him, and 
 believing him to be someone in attendance upon 
 Colonel Fitz Hugh, called: 
 
 ' ' Oir eland. ' ' 
 
 " To the rescue," called the man in a low voice, and 
 rode up to the margin of the creek. 
 
 The two men arranged that Colonel Fitz Hugh and 
 Colonel Maynard should advance to the respective 
 places they themselves occupied, as soon as they had 
 withdrawn. Then wheeling, each rode back to his 
 principal, and in a few moments more the Union and 
 Confederate officers faced each other from opposite 
 banks of the creek. The distance between them at 
 tliis point was but a few yards, and the niglit was not 
 so dark but that they could plainly see each other. 
 
1 8 2 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 The equestrian figures stood silent, each waiting for 
 the other to speak. The only sound came from the 
 gurgling of the stream which flowed between them. 
 Somehow a couplet from "The Brook," a poem 
 which had always been a favorite with Maynard, got 
 into his head, and the waters were continually saying: 
 
 " Men may come, and men may go. 
 But I go on forever." 
 
 It seemed that the silence, so painful and embar- 
 rassing, would last forever. Maynard tried to think 
 of some remark by which to break it and open the 
 interview, as Fitz Hugh evidently expected of him ; 
 but no words came. Those of the couplet kept chas- 
 ing each other through his mind, and so long as they 
 occupied it there was no room for any others. Fitz 
 Hugh waited for Maynard to begin. The gravity of 
 the situation could not disturb his sense of propriety. 
 He had made an analysis of the etiquette attending 
 such a meeting, and concluded that Colonel Maynard, 
 having opened the question between them by sending 
 a messenger, and that messenger having suggested the 
 interview, it was Maynard's part to speak first. And 
 so it seemed minutes — it was only seconds — that the 
 dark figcire in blue and the figure in lighter gray sat 
 upon their horses and gazed at each other from the 
 opposite banks of the stream, while the hours were 
 flying toward the rising sun and death; and he who 
 was expected to break the silence could think of 
 nothing but 
 
 " Men may come, and men may go. 
 But I go on forever." 
 
CHICK A MA VGA. 1 83 
 
 At last Maynard broke out, "You are Colonel Fitz 
 Hugh, I believe." 
 
 "I am. I recognize Colonel Maynard's voice." 
 
 "I heard yours last on a certain evening a year 
 ago; an evening memorable to both of us. Then you 
 gave me my life, and by doing so placed yourself in a 
 position to be shot for a traitor to your cause." 
 
 "Not for your sake, colonel; for the sake of an- 
 other." 
 
 "It matters not for whose sake; the act remains. 
 Once before, you spared me when you found me 
 under a roof which covered " 
 
 "Then I respected the ]aw3 of hospitality sacred in 
 the South. Let us not dwell on these matters, colo- 
 nel. Let us proceed with that upon which we have 
 met for consultation." 
 
 "You are right; time presses. Your sister stands 
 convicted of the same offense as mine at the time of 
 which we have been speaking, and sentenced to die at 
 sunrise. We meet to concert a method to save 
 her." 
 
 "At my request. But any proposition must come 
 from you, Colonel Maynard. I am unfamiliar with 
 the feeling on the part of those in power in the Fed- 
 eral army as to executing a sentence of death upon a 
 woman." 
 
 "Circumstances which I cannot explain — for they 
 pertain to the situation in which these two armies are 
 placed — render the feeling against your sister very 
 severe." 
 
 "You have suggested my exerting influence from 
 our side." 
 
1 84 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "It was your sister who suggested it. I have little 
 faith in it." 
 
 "What did you propose?" 
 
 "That which your sister would not accept." 
 
 "And that was?" 
 
 Maynard whispered in a strange, savage tone: 
 
 "To use my authority, as commanding the brigade 
 charged with her keeping, to place her within your 
 lines. " 
 
 "And now?" 
 
 "I listen for some suggestion from you." 
 
 "I can think of none except, with your permission, 
 to enter a protest over the signature of our command- 
 ing officers of highest rank." 
 
 "It would avail nothing." 
 
 "Then there is nothing to save her from this sacri- 
 fice whicli, though she has always been prepared for 
 it, and doubtless will now meet it, like the remarkable 
 woman she is, with becoming fortitude, is still hard 
 for those of us who love and respect her, to bear. 
 We will revere her memory as a martyr's." 
 
 During this dialogue each man sat on his horse, 
 without any movement, and spoke in measured, formal, 
 automatic tones. Maynard's words were quicker 
 than Fitz Hugh's, who held to the slower fashion of 
 speaking common in the South. After the last sen- 
 tence spoken by Fitz Hugh, there was a long silence. 
 They had met for a purpose; their meeting was a 
 failure. 
 
 It seemed to both that they could hear their watches 
 ticking away the seconds that lay between Caroline 
 Fitz Hugh and death, Neither knew the agony suf- 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 185 
 
 fered by the other, unless he judged that other by 
 himself. Neither had the heart to terminate the in- 
 terview, though both knew that it was fruitless. A 
 night bird set up a dismal cry. It seemed a death 
 knell. 
 
 Then Maynard broke the silence. 
 
 "Colonel," he said in a set voice, "remain here, or 
 meet me here at any time after an hour. It may be 
 the small hours of the morning. It will be, if at all, 
 before sunrise." 
 
 "What do you propose to do?" 
 
 "What I propose to do neither you nor your sister 
 shall know till it has been accomplished." 
 
 "I will remain here, or near by, and at one o'clock 
 you will find me where I now am." 
 
 "Adieu," cried Maynard, as he turned his horse's 
 head and galloped away. 
 
 "Adieu," replied Fitz Hugh, in the stately tone to 
 which he was accustomed, and raised his hat as 
 politely as if he were saluting in a ballroom. 
 
 Fitz Hugh rejoined his companion and rode away 
 in the direction of Ringold, and Maynard, followed by 
 Ratigan, started back toward their camp. Maynard 's 
 brain was in a fever. Time had been expended to no 
 gain. The small hours were coming on, and only six 
 of them would pass before the event he so much 
 dreaded would take place. He had formed his 
 resolve. Whether wise or foolish, right or wrong, 
 practicable or impossible, his resolution was taken. 
 Once determined upon his course, he spurred his 
 horse on without thought of obstacle. Turning from 
 the rough ground on which he rode, he was about to 
 
1 86 CHICK AM A UGA . 
 
 take the road, on which he might get on faster, when 
 he was suddenly startled by the firing of a bullet and 
 the sound that came with it. The shot rang close to 
 his ear, almost brushing his temple. 
 
 Knowing that he had by his carelesness suddenly 
 come upon a Union vedette, he called out: 
 
 "Cease firing. Friends!" 
 
 In answer to a call to advance, Ratigan rode for- 
 ward and found a vedette, who had mistaken them for 
 an enemy. On making themselves known they were 
 suffered to pass on, and Maynard, feeling that he was 
 too incautious to lead, gave way to Ratigan. They 
 proceeded on their way with more caution, and passed 
 through a gap in the ridge leading to Reed's Bridge. 
 
 The good footing of the road enabled them, after 
 getting well into their lines, to proceed rapidly. After 
 they had passed the ridge, they left the road and 
 turned northward. Soon after they reached camp. 
 
XIX. 
 
 IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 
 
 ONCE inside his tent Colonel Maynard said: 
 "Corporal, I want you to get me the uniform of 
 a private soldier. You must do so without exciting 
 suspicion." 
 
 "Oi don't know how Oi'll do 't, colonel, witho" t 
 going back to me own camp." 
 
 "I fear that will take too long. Can't you steal 
 one from one of the tents near by?" 
 
 "Oi moight be able to do 't, an' Oi might spend the 
 whole night trying. Oi can get one at me camp 
 certain." 
 
 "I would take your jacket, but I want your assist- 
 ance. There's no other way but for you to go to 
 your camp." 
 
 "Colonel, Oi'll ride hard." 
 
 "Ride, and remember that every moment is worth 
 years at any other time." 
 
 Ratigan lost no time in mounting, and was soon 
 galloping on his way. Once out of the camp from 
 which he started he found no guards to pass, and was 
 able to drive his horse to the utmost. The night 
 before he had chased the woman whom he had then 
 known as Betsy Baggs in a mad race to capture her; 
 now he was tearing along in a mad race to save her 
 
 *87 
 
1 88 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 from the consequences of his capture. Past woods 
 and waters flew the corporal, over bridges and hills, 
 through hollows and rivulets, till he came to his own 
 camp. There he at once sought the quarters of pri- 
 vate Flanagan. 
 
 "Flanagan," he cried, shaking the private, "ye'r 
 wanted." 
 
 Flanagan, seeing the corporal bending over him, and 
 supposing he was aroused to go on some duty, got up 
 at once. 
 
 "Nevermind putting on ye'r clothes," said Rati- 
 gan, "do 'em in a bundle and come along. Ye'r 
 wanted for a special duty, and that right quick." 
 
 "Duty in me drawers, is it? How would Oi look 
 foighten that way? But all right, carporal," and 
 Flanagan, gathering up his belongings, followed Rati- 
 gan outside the tent and away from his slumbering 
 tent mates. 
 
 "Flanagan," said Ratigan. 
 
 "What is it, carporal?" 
 
 "Let me take ye'r clothes, and ask no questions." 
 
 "Take 'em. And divil a question will I ask except 
 what ye do be wanten 'em for." 
 
 Ratigan seized the bundle and, with an injunction 
 to Flanagan to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to 
 save himself from future trials, mounted his horse 
 and was again flying over the ground back to Colonel 
 Maynard's headquarters. 
 
 It was now the small hours of the night. The cor- 
 poral cast his eye to the east and saw a faint streak of 
 white light there. Digging his spurs into his beast's 
 flanks and urging him with his voice at the same time, 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 189 
 
 rider and horse sped on in a race between life and 
 death, 
 
 "Goon, ye beast," cried the corporal. "Go on, 
 me darlin'. Stretch ye'r cussed legs; for I don't care 
 if ye kill yersilf if we lose no time. What's ye'r loife 
 compared with hers? On with ye, me beauty. Win 
 the race with the sun that is showing his light there, 
 and Oi'U worship ye forever." 
 
 With such contradictory and incoherent phrases 
 Ratigan urged his horse till he could go no faster. 
 Again did hills, vales, woods, waters, fences fly by, 
 till at last the corporal dismounted at the camp he 
 rode for, and in a moment was in Colonel Maynard's 
 lent. 
 
 The corporal started back. A man stood there 
 whom he did not recognize for a feiv moments as 
 Colonel Maynard. He had no beard, while the colo- 
 nel had had a heavy one. His hair and eyebrows 
 were black, while the colonel's were light, and the hair 
 which had hung below his hat in short curls was now 
 cropped. 
 
 "Give me the clothes, quick," 
 
 The corporal handed him the bundle and Maynard 
 lost no time in getting into them, 
 
 "Corporal," said the colonel, "let me explain what 
 I am about to do, I know something of the blood 
 that flows in the veins of Caroline Fitz Hugh. She 
 will never accept her life at the price I intend to pay 
 for it. She must not know that I intend to save 
 her by violating a trust, by incurring my own down- 
 fall, or she will not leave her jail. Do you under- 
 stand?" 
 
ipo CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 "I do, colonel. She would chide me if she knew 
 I was doing the same." 
 
 "While you have been away I have placed three 
 horses in the wood yonder." 
 
 "I see, colonel." 
 
 "Corporal Ratigan, every man has his own part in 
 life to perform. The distinctive feature in mine 
 seems to be to decide quickly between conflicting 
 duties. I am going to violate a trust, to perform a 
 sacred obligation. If you will aid me, follow me." 
 
 Taking up a slip of paper lying on his camp cot, on 
 which he had written an order, the two left the tent. 
 They were challenged by the sentry on post, but 
 giving the countersign proceeded till they were again 
 challenged by the guard at the temporary prison. 
 There the colonel advanced and gave the countersign, 
 and passed into the house. 
 
 The sergeant in charge met them, and asked what 
 they wanted. The colonel handed him the paper he 
 had brought with him. It was an order for the per- 
 son of the prisoner. The place was only lighted by a 
 candle, and the colonel took care to stand with his 
 back to it. But this was not necessary, for his dis- 
 guise was complete. Corporal Ratigan remained 
 without the door, on the porch. 
 
 The sergeant looked from the paper to the man 
 who stood before him, inquiringly, 
 
 "This is very strange," he said. 
 
 Maynard made no reply. 
 
 "Here is Colonel Maynard's order," the sergeant 
 added, reading it over again, "do you know what he 
 wants with her?" 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 1 9 1 
 
 "Do you suppose I don't know any better than to 
 ask questions when I get an order?" replied the 
 spurious private gruiifiy. 
 
 "And I suppose you think I've no business to do 
 so either. There's all sorts of games practiced in 
 these cases, but an order's an order, and, as you say, 
 I've no business to ask questions when I get one." 
 
 "Well, then, don't keep me waiting. 1 don't care 
 what Colonel Maynard wants with the prisoner; he's 
 sent me for her with a written order, and that's all 
 there is about it." 
 
 The sergeant went into the room where Miss Fitz 
 Hugh was confined and led her out, pale and won- 
 dering. 
 
 "It isn't sunrise," she said, in a voice which it was 
 difficult for her to keep from breaking. 
 
 "Come," said the colonel. She followed him to 
 the porch and Corporal Ratigan joined them, but it 
 was too dark for the prisoner to see who he was, and 
 he did not dare to make himself known. As soon as 
 they had got to a safe distance he whispered: 
 
 "Darlin'." 
 
 "Rats!" 
 
 "Not a word till we get further away." 
 
 They walked on at an ordinary pace, though all 
 desired to hasten. After passing some distance from 
 the house, Maynard turned and glanced back. He 
 saw the sergeant watching. 
 
 "We must go to the tent," he muttered, and the 
 three walked on. Before entering he looked again. 
 The sergeant was still watching. He evidently 
 wished to make sure that all was right. All entered 
 
1 9 2 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 the tent, while the colonel, standing at the front and 
 peering between the tent flaps, watched for the ser- 
 geant to go back into the house. Presently he did so 
 and left the way clear. 
 
 "Now come on." 
 
 Leaving the tent they walked a short distance down 
 the road. Not a word was spoken. Presently they 
 turned aside and entered the wood. There they 
 found the horses. 
 
 "Mount," said the colonel to the prisoner. 
 
 Putting a foot in his hand she sprang up onto a 
 horse's back. There was no sidesaddle for her, but 
 the high front of a "McClellan" served very well, and 
 she was so good a horsewoman that she could have 
 ridden sideways on the animal's bare back. The stir- 
 rup was fitted, the colonel and Ratigan mounted, and 
 the three rode rapidly away. 
 
 "We must dodge the picket," said the colonel. 
 "Even the countersign might not avail us with a 
 woman in the party." 
 
 "What does it all mean. Rats?" asked Miss Fitz 
 Hugh. "I thought you were going to do your duty 
 at all hazards." 
 
 "Well, there's different kinds of duties, and some- 
 times they won't work together. If saving a woman's 
 life isn't a duty, then me mother didn't bring me up 
 right." 
 
 "Who's the other?" she asked, while Maynard was 
 riding a little in advance. 
 
 "One who this night makes me his slave." 
 
 "And I from this night will be indebted for my life 
 to both of you, if you succeed in saving it. But I 
 
CHlCk\4 MA VGA . 193 
 
 can't bear to have you sacrifice yourselves for me. 
 You may be committing an unpardonable sin toward 
 your comrades, but I cannot believe you are commit- 
 ting a sin toward Our Father. And one day it will 
 be all ended, Rats: and then who will care?" 
 
 "Oi know those who will rejoice." 
 
 Ratigan now took the lead, having passed over the 
 route before several times, and being familiar with 
 the best way to get between the vedettes. Colonel 
 Maynard dropped back beside the prisoner. 
 
 "Who are you?" she asked. 
 
 "One who serves you." 
 
 The voice sounded familiar, but was disguised, and 
 she did not recognize it as Colonel Maynard's. 
 
 "Were you sent by Colonel Maynard?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Why should you try to save me?" 
 
 "Ask me rather why I should not." 
 
 It was plain the man, whoever he might be, desired 
 to remain unknown, and she desisted from further 
 questioning. 
 
 "After all my death would not profit the Federal 
 cause," she said. "My lips will be sealed to any 
 information I may possess." 
 
 "Your information would be too late in any event. 
 Had it been otherwise this plan would not have 
 been attempted." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 "Your commander-in-chief of the Army of Tennes- 
 see has delayed too long already. He will attack us 
 almost immediately. Your information would not 
 now hasten that attack." 
 
1 94 CHICK AM A VGA . 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "We have captured prisoners showing that your 
 men have been reinforced from Knoxville and Vir- 
 ginia. General Bragg has ceased to retreat and is 
 about to fall upon us with a concentrated army." 
 
 "You are right in assuming that neither you nor I 
 can have any influence for or against either side now. 
 These troops have been coming from Virginia for a 
 month. They are nearly all arrived ; you may expect 
 to hear the opening shot of a great battle at any 
 moment." 
 
 The corporal, who was in front, reined in his horse 
 and held up his hand in warning. They were on the 
 edge of a wood and within a few hundred yards of 
 the creek, and could see to the right and to the left. 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed the corporal, "there are 
 vedettes there, and vedettes there," pointing north 
 and south. "And they are both coming this way. 
 We must go back." 
 
 Colonel Maynard rode forward to sec. He glanced 
 at both parties of vedettes, then in front of him. 
 From that front at that moment there came a horse's 
 neigh. It was answered by a neigh from behind the 
 three on the edge of the wood. 
 
 "Your people are where that horse neighed. Can 
 you keep your seat in the saddle for a dash?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "We are surrounded; it is the only chance. Are 
 you prepared? Ready! Go!" 
 
 The two men dug their spurs into their horses' 
 flanks and all three shot out toward the creek. They 
 had not gone a hundred yards before they heard: 
 
WlCl^AMA UGA. 1 95 
 
 "Halt there," immediately followed by a shot; 
 They paid no attention to either, but dashed on over 
 the uneven ground, the two men riding close on 
 either side the prisoner for fear she would lose her 
 balance. Her horse stumbled, but recovered. A 
 volley came from the vedettes riding from the south, 
 but no one was hit. In crossing a gully Miss Fitz 
 Hugh tottered sideways, but Maynard caught her and 
 righted her. 
 
 "On, on," he said, "a few hundred yards and you 
 are saved." 
 
 Then came another volley; this time from the party 
 advancing from the north. Corporal Ratigan swayed 
 in his saddle, but recovered himself. 
 
 "They are advancing to meet us! Quick! Down 
 the bank! Through here! it is not knee deep!" 
 
 A third volley came, but it did no harm. It was 
 too late to stop the fugitives now. They rode right 
 into a party of Confederate officers. 
 
 Friends gathered about Miss Fitz Hugh. Her 
 brother, being in presence of others, restrained his 
 desire to throw his arms about her neck. He lifted 
 his hat to her as politely as if she were as nearly 
 related to the rest as to himself, then took her hand 
 and kissed it. Suddenly, in the midst of a shower of 
 congratulations — a wild, irrepressible cheer that 
 burst spontaneously from the party, Caroline Fitz 
 Hugh gave a shriek. Corporal Ratigan had fallen 
 from his horse, and lay white and bleeding on the 
 ground. Springing from her own horse she bent over 
 him and raised his head. 
 
 "O God! he's dead." 
 
XX. 
 
 THE DARKEST HOUR. 
 
 THE cheer, the shriek, Miss Fitz Hugh's words, 
 sounded in Colonel Maynard's ears as he put 
 spurs to his horse and dashed away up the stream in 
 a direction parallel with the Union lines. The cheer 
 was the announcement of the completion of an act by 
 which he had parted with what he held most dear, the 
 confidence of his superiors, his peers, and the rank 
 and file of the army. He had given to Caroline Fitz 
 Hugh to see the rising of the sun whose light was 
 now broadening in the east. He had called down 
 upon himself what to him was the bitterest of all 
 degradation ; perhaps to meet the fate that had been 
 intended for her. Riding up the creek on the bank 
 nearest the Confederate lines he approached a wood. 
 This he entered, crossed the creek unobserved, and 
 emerged to see the men by whom the escaping party 
 had been chased returning toward the ridge. Not 
 caring to be questioned by them he rode back into the 
 wood until they were in a position not to see him; 
 then he trotted slowly to the ridge and over it, mak- 
 ing his way back to his tent. 
 
 It was now broad dayliglit. As he dismounted he 
 noticed a detachment of cavalry marching on foot, 
 under the direction of an officer, toward the house 
 where Miss Fitz Hugh had been confined. On arriv- 
 
 ia6 
 
CHICK A MA UGA. 1 9 7 
 
 ing there they halted and the officer went inside. In 
 a few minutes he came out and strode over to Colonel 
 Maynard's tent. The colonel had gone in. He had 
 thrown off his cavalry jacket and was waiting for what 
 was to follow. The officer entered the tent and, not 
 recognizing Maynard, shorn of his beard, asked for 
 the colonel commanding. 
 
 "I am Colonel Maynard." 
 
 "Ah! I did not recognize you, colonel. I have 
 just called for the spy in the house where I expected 
 to find her, and was told by the sergeant that he had 
 delivered her soon after midnight to two men bearing 
 an order from you." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "I suspect something must be wrong. Was the 
 order a forgery?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then the prisoner is in your keeping?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Escaped?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 The officer was too astonished to ask any more 
 questions at once. 
 
 "Who is responsible?" he asked presently. 
 
 "I am." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 "Yes, I. You will march your men back to camp. 
 You need not make any official report of the matter 
 unless you choose. I will report the escape my- 
 self." 
 
 The officer bowed and, with tlie same astonisliment 
 on his face that had been there throughout, turned 
 
1 9§ CHICK AM A UGA. 
 
 from the tent, and going to the men standing In the 
 road marched them back to camp. 
 
 Colonel Maynard came out of his tent and mount- 
 ing his horse rode to the headquarters of his division 
 commander. He rode slowly, his head bowed almost 
 to his saddlebow. Reining up before the general's 
 tent he sent in his name by an orderly, and was soon 
 admitted. 
 
 "General," he said, "I have come to prefer 
 charges." 
 
 "Indeed," said the general. "Why not forward 
 them in writing in the regular way?" 
 
 "It is because of the person against whom I am 
 going to prefer them." 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 "Myself." 
 
 The general looked at him with a puzzled expres- 
 sion. 
 
 "Colonel, are you ill?" 
 
 "No, general." 
 
 "I suppose it would be ridiculous to ask a man if 
 he is all right here?" and he tapped his forehead 
 with his finger. 
 
 "I am sound of mind and body." 
 
 "Well, well, colonel, what does it all mean; it's 
 too early in the morning for joking," and the 
 general yawned. 
 
 "I have to report that the spy left in my charge has 
 escaped, and through my connivance." 
 
 "Good Lord!" exclaimed the general, "that is z. 
 serious matter." 
 
 Maynard remained silent. 
 
CHICK A MA UGA. 1 9 9 
 
 "And the explanation?" 
 
 "There is none." 
 
 The general looked into the melancholy eye of 
 Colonel Maynard, and felt a cold chill creep over him. 
 He knew there was some reason for the act which 
 would explain, if not excuse it. 
 
 "Colonel, you are a dashing fellow, with a tinge of 
 romance in your nature. I trust you have not 
 yielded to an absurd notion as to taking the life of a 
 woman." 
 
 "No. I have not." 
 
 "Then give me some explanation. I fear it will 
 go hard with you, but I will do all I can for you if 
 you can give a satisfactory reason." 
 
 "I have no reason to give." 
 
 "Of course I must report the matter. Better speak 
 now; it may be too late hereafter." 
 
 "I have reported the fact. That is all the report 
 I have to make." 
 
 "Then, colonel, it is my duty to order you to your 
 tent under arrest. You may leave your sword here 
 with me, if you please. An order will be issued 
 
 placing Colonel next in rank, in charge of your 
 
 brigade." 
 
 Colonel Maynard unhooked his sword from his 
 belt, and handed it to the general. Then he rode 
 back to his tent, and as he entered it he felt that he 
 had left his former self outside; that, as in the case of 
 a fallen comrade, he would never see this being of the 
 past again. As for his present self, that, if suffered 
 to live, could only live a life in death. 
 
 The news of the singular act by one of its most 
 
200 CHICK AM A UGA. 
 
 promising, its most popular colonels, rapidly spread 
 among the army. It was received with different feel- 
 ings by different persons. Some were so averse to the 
 shooting of a woman that, if they had had a reasonable 
 explanation, they would gladly have excused the act in 
 their hearts, though they could not but condemn it 
 openly. To the great majority it was a traitorous 
 breach of trust, a violation of all the instincts of a 
 soldier, that could merit no less punishment than that 
 which had been intended for the prisoner. Knots of 
 men discussed it at the mess tables of officers and by 
 the camp fires of the soldiers. All regretted that the 
 blow had fallen on Colonel Maynard, so young, 
 so recklessly brave, so promising ; and there was 
 scarcely a man who did not secretly rejoice that the 
 Army of the Cumberland had been spared the obloquy 
 of executing a woman. It was supposed that the spy 
 carried important information ; that she possessed dis- 
 patches which would seriously endanger the army, 
 and this fact tended to bring down most of the con- 
 demnation which fell upon the man who had assisted 
 her to escape. 
 
 The result of this feeling was the ordering of a 
 court-martial to try Colonel Maynard with as much 
 dispatch as had attended the trial of the escaped 
 woman. The charge was "giving aid and comfort to 
 the enemy," the specification "himself aiding in the 
 escape of a spy in the service of said enemy." 
 
 The court met on the afternoon of the day on 
 which Maynard had reported his act. Men of his 
 own grade, or near it, sat about a pine table in a wall 
 tent and proceeded with the formalities attending the 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 20 1 
 
 case. As Maynard pleaded guilty to both charge and 
 specification, there was little to do except to come to 
 a verdict. Before doing so the president asked the 
 accused if he had anything to say in his behalf, any 
 explanation to make. 
 
 "No," was his reply. 
 
 "Colonel Maynard," said the president, "you have 
 served this army with distinction. You have been 
 respected, trusted, beloved as few other men in it. 
 You have confessed to having committed one of the 
 most atrocious crimes that can come under the juris- 
 diction of a military court. Nothing can excuse it. 
 There may be something to palliate it. I conjure you 
 to speak before the court brings in a verdict and 
 names your punishment." 
 
 "Mr. President," replied Maynard, "for my act 
 toward this army I am accountable to you as a court- 
 martial convened to try me; for my act as one of 
 right or wrong, of honor or dishonor, I am account- 
 able only to a tribunal with which you have nothing 
 to do. Do not waste valuable time. Before the sun 
 sets twice, if I mistake not, you will have a more im- 
 portant work to do in the reception of the enemy. 
 Do your 'duty as a court, and do it with dispatch." 
 
 There was not an officer present but looked at 
 Maynard with a curious admiration. It was plain 
 that he had sacrificed himself, though it was not 
 entirely plain why. Even those who condemned him 
 most bitterly seemed to hesitate to bring in a verdict 
 which would naturally carry with it the punishment 
 pf death. 
 
 "You are mistaken, colonel," said one of them, 
 
202 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 referring to Maynard's predictions, "the enemy have 
 been in full retreat ever since we left Murfreesboro. 
 I only fear he's going to give us the slip again." 
 
 "I regret your confidence, sir," replied Maynard. 
 "I am aware that others feel as you do; and it is a 
 mistake which will cost this army dear," 
 
 "Nonsense. Haven't we " 
 
 "This is not the place to discuss problems for which 
 only our commanding general is responsible," inter- 
 rupted the president. "Let the prisoner leave the 
 court." 
 
 Maynard was led away, and the court proceeded to 
 consider a verdict. There was little time spent on it, 
 for there was but one thing to do, and that was to 
 make it "guilty of the charge, and guilty of the speci- 
 fication." Then began a discussion of the punish- 
 ment. One of the members stated that it was person- 
 ally known to him for a fact that the accused had one 
 year before visited Chattanooga as a spy, when the 
 place was held by the Confederates, had been cap- 
 tured, tried, condemned, and sentenced to be hanged. 
 That Jacob Slack, a boy who was now serving as his 
 orderly, had been with him ; that he had contrived to 
 get news of Maynard's condition to Missouri Slack, 
 his sister, at Jasper, Tennessee; that she had gone to 
 Chattanooga, had entered his jail, had exchanged 
 clothes with the prisoner, and thus effected his 
 escape; that he had been concealed, and afterward 
 helped through the lines, by a Miss Fain, whom he 
 had married on reaching the Union lines. "I put it 
 to you, gentlemen," he concluded, "could one whose 
 life had been saved by women, carry out a sentence of 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 203 
 
 death upon a woman for the same offense for which it 
 was intended he should suffer?" 
 
 The speaker knew nothing of the relations existing 
 between Maynard and Fitz Hugh. It is impossible 
 to know what might have been the effect had he pos- 
 sessed this knowledge. The court acted only on the 
 information communicated by the officer who told the 
 story of Maynard's experience as a spy, and the main 
 facts in this were known throughout the army. The 
 circumstances of the accused's sentence by Confeder- 
 ates to be hanged for a spy and his escape, the valu- 
 able service he had rendered the Union cause, the 
 reasons he had for not wishing to shoot a woman, 
 saved his life. The sentence of the court was that he 
 be dismissed the service with forfeiture of all pay and 
 emoluments. 
 
 When this sentence was communicated to Colonel 
 Maynard, he was in his tent, waiting to know his fate. 
 He had expected to be shot. He hardly knew 
 whether he was more moved by the leniency shown 
 him, or more disappointed at being obliged to live a 
 disgraced man. But one reason gave him comfort 
 that he was not to die: his wife. He knew that, 
 although all others looked upon him with horror, she 
 would love him all the more that he suffered. 
 
XXI. 
 
 A MILITARY PROBLEM. 
 
 THE events attending the capture and escape of 
 Caroline Fitz Hugh, and the dismissal of Colonel 
 Maynard from the service, all happened in such quick 
 succession that Jakey Slack was not aware of what 
 was taking place until after it was all over. It must 
 be confessed that Maynard had not treated his most 
 devoted adherent with the consideration he merited. 
 But it is the way of people who are rising to eminence 
 to gradually leave off familiarity with those formerly 
 most intimate with them. Maynard had treated Jakey 
 with mock deference, but had not thought of leaning 
 upon him for advice or strength, much less comfort, 
 and during the raging of the fire through which he 
 had passed Jakey Slack had been as far from his mind 
 as if he had not existed. 
 
 One evening as "retreat" was sounding — it was the 
 evening of the colonel's deposition from his rank and 
 command — Jakey walked into his tent. Maynard's 
 head was bowed down on his camp cot. Hearing 
 someone enter he looked up and saw his old friend. 
 Had Jakey been another boy, when he saw the hag- 
 gard look, the strongly marked lines of suffering in 
 the face before him, he would have shown some mark 
 of the effect such a sight had upon him. Not so 
 Jakey. There was no expression either of surprise or 
 
 204 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 205 
 
 grief upon his unexpressive countenance. But the 
 sight of Jakey standing there to remind him that, 
 though a whole army condemned liim, there was one 
 in it who never could be brought to think him guilty 
 of any crime, had a different effect on the late com- 
 mander. He reached out his hand, took that of 
 Jakey and, drawing the boy toward him, folded him in 
 his arms. Thus do those who have been deprived of 
 their greatness go back for sympathy to those from 
 whom they have farthest departed. 
 
 Maynard held the boy against his breast, while he 
 gave way to convulsive sobs such as are unusual in a 
 man, and only come when some mental struggle under 
 an intense grief is relaxed, and suffering permitted to 
 get control. Neither spoke. Jakey's presence re- 
 minded Maynard the more keenly of those he loved. 
 His mind had been upon his wife and child. Jakey's 
 coming brought also Souri's image, and the trials and 
 triumphs which he and Jakey and Souri had once 
 passed together; and trials and triumphs borne in 
 company weld hearts. Of all who loved him only 
 Jakey was there, and on him alone could he rely for 
 comfort. 
 
 At last Jakey withdrew himself from his friend's 
 embrace. He had permitted him to indulge his grief 
 for a few minutes, and this he considered quite long 
 enough. 
 
 "General," he began. He had always called his 
 chief "general," contending that he was a general 
 since he commanded a brigade. 
 
 "No more of that, Jakey ; I am only Maynard now, 
 Mark Maynard. Mark is a good enough name for me," 
 
2o6 CHICK A MA UG. I . 
 
 "Wal, that don' make no differ. You 'tins got th" 
 same body, 'n arms, 'n legs, 'n all thet. Hev y' 
 done th' fust thing fo' ter do?" 
 
 "What's that, Jakey?" 
 
 "Tell Mrs. Maynard." 
 
 "Jakey, I can't." 
 
 "Recken she'll hev ter know 't some time." 
 
 "There's going to be a battle. No court can keep 
 me from shouldering a musket or wielding a sabre. 
 I'll go into the fight that's coming, and never come 
 out of it. Then she'll not need to know it." 
 
 "VVhat makes y' think ther's goen ter be a fight?" 
 
 "I would not have the intuitions of a soldier if I 
 did not." 
 
 "Y' haint General Rosey." 
 
 "Nor do I need to be General Rosey to divine what's 
 coming. Do you suppose I knew any more about war 
 with eagles on my shoulders than in a private's uni- 
 form? If there were some superior being to look into 
 the heads of the men composing this army, and readjust 
 the rank in accordance with fitness, many a star would 
 leave the shoulder where it now rests to light on that 
 of some obscure private." 
 
 ''Wal, ef we fight 'em won't we wnip 'em?" 
 
 Jakey noticed that, with the change of his friend's 
 mind from his grief to war, there was an immediate 
 improvement from the terrible depression upon him. 
 He asked the question for the purpose of keeping 
 Maynard's attention fixed for a time on war, rather 
 than for information. 
 
 "Whip 'em? Why, Jakey, we're scattered all over 
 creation,'' He dipped his finger in a tin cup full of 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 207 
 
 water and began to draw a rude map on the top of an 
 extemporized table, consisting of a square board nailed 
 on a stake driven in the ground. 
 
 "Here's the Chickamauga flowing between these two 
 ridges, Missionary and the Pigeon Mountains, from 
 south to north into the Tennessee. Crittenden's 
 corps is here at Lee and Gordon's Mill. Thomas' 
 corps has just passed through Stevens' Gap down here, 
 ten or a dozen miles from Crittenden, while McCook 
 is at Alpine, twenty miles away from Thomas. JVe 
 are off here, near Reed's Bridge, the tip of the left 
 wing, forty miles from McCook, the tip of the right 
 wing. 
 
 "Bragg is here at Lafayette, on the east side of the 
 Pigeon Mountains, and opposite our center at Craw- 
 fish Springs, where he can strike any one of our corps 
 separately. He can ride up onto the Pigeon Moun- 
 tains and, looking down on the valley of the Chicka- 
 mauga, see just where we are located. I was up there 
 myself the other day with a reconnoitering party and 
 came upon one of his scouts, looking at us very much 
 as one would survey a barnyard of fat turkeys before 
 Christmas." 
 
 He paused, and seemed lost in some attendant prob- 
 lem. Presently he added absently : 
 
 "All I'd be afraid of would be delay." 
 
 "What d'y mean by thet?" asked Jakey. 
 
 Maynard started. "I was thinking that I was on 
 the other side," he said. "You see, Jakey, in a mili- 
 tary point of view the beauty of the situation is all 
 with the Confederates," 
 
 "How?" 
 
2 o8 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "They can cut us up in detail." 
 
 "Wha 'd you do if you wor him 'uns?" 
 
 "I! I'd drive a wedge right in here between 
 Thomas' and Crittenden's corps. I'd destroy first 
 one and then the other. After that I'd eat my rations 
 and have plenty of time to take care of McCook's, 
 which is too far away even to hear the guns." 
 
 "That 'ud be hunky," said Jakey, pretending to 
 catch his friend's enthusiasm. "Pity' twasn't t'other 
 way and we had 'em as they got we 'uns. Mebbe ef 
 you 'uns wor in command of our army y' mought do 
 somep'n fo' ter change th' siteration." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 "Yes, what'd y' do?" 
 
 "That's a poser, Jakey." 
 
 Maynard studied his improvised map for a while 
 without speaking, as if it were a chess-board. At last 
 he said: 
 
 "General Rosecrans, 1 learn, has ordered his scat- 
 tered columns concentrated at Crawfish Springs, the 
 center of his line. Perhaps this is as good a plan as 
 any, at least if Bragg gives him time enough to close 
 up. To me two plans seem to be open. One is to 
 demonstrate along the Chickamauga, principally with 
 cavalry; while " 
 
 "What's demonstrate?" interrupted the listener. 
 
 "Make a feint, a fuss, pretend to have a big force 
 and only have a little one. I would leave the camp- 
 fires burning at night, to make them think I was still 
 there, and draw my army away to Mission Ridge. 
 Moving backward on converging lines " 
 
 "What's them?" 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 2 09 
 
 "Lines coming to a focus " 
 
 "What's a focus?" 
 
 "Confound it, Jakey, we'll be attacked and whipped 
 before I can make you understand. These roads you 
 see come together at Chattanooga. From Chatta- 
 nooga, if necessary, the army could be crossed " 
 
 "I thought we 'uns was a-folleren them 'uns!" ob- 
 served Jakey, surprised at the turn the campaign had 
 taken. 
 
 "Jakey, did you ever hear of the man who held his 
 adversary down by placing his nose between that 
 adversary's teeth?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, that's the way we're holding our enemy; 
 but your remark leads to the other side of the problem. 
 Desperate diseases require desperate remedies. If I 
 were a general I'd never be on the defensive if I could 
 help it, cost what it might. It sets a man to wonder- 
 ing what his enemy is going to do, instead of doing 
 something himself. Now our southernmost column 
 might be pushed out here," — putting his finger on the 
 line denoting the Georgia Central Railroad, — "to cut 
 the Confederates' avenue for supplies. Bragg might 
 turn and crush it, but he can do that now. The trouble 
 is, Jakey, we need troops for quick marches ; flying col- 
 umns to move without camp equipage. Such a column 
 down there could strike, retreat, strike at another 
 point, and so confuse an enemy that he wouldn't know 
 what was to happen next." 
 
 Jakey was too young to understand the phases of 
 the war problem in which Maynard's mind had become 
 engrossed to the obliteration of his trial, disgrace, wife. 
 
2 1 o CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 child, friends, comrades, everything but the game that 
 charmed him. But Jakey's mind was as much on his 
 friend as his friend's was on the problem, and he de- 
 termined to go on fostering the awakened interest. 
 Unmindful of the demonstration made thus far he 
 suddenly broke out: 
 
 "Supposen I wor th' general commanden this hyar 
 army 'n you 'uns wor th' general commanden t'other 
 army. Now, how would 't do fo' me ter march out in 
 the middle o' the night 'n just knock the stuffen right 
 out'n you' uns?" 
 
 Maynard smiled. It suddenly occurred to him how 
 little Jakey knew of the game of war; how useless 
 had been his explanations. 
 
 "What would be your plan of attack, general?" he 
 asked,. wishing to humor the boy. 
 
 "Wal," said Jakey, who had no more idea of what 
 he was talking about than the fourteen-year-old boy he 
 was, ''I reckon I'd put the big guns in a long line on 
 top 'n th' Pea Vine Ridge hyar, 'n jest scatter shot 'n 
 shell like chicken feed." 
 
 Maynard burst into a laugh. Jakey surveyed the 
 altered expression of his friend's face with his bright 
 little eyes and chuckled, but his own face was as im- 
 perturbable as usual. 
 
 "General," said the boy-commander's supposititious 
 enemy, "what would you do if I were to draw my 
 troops out of range?" 
 
 Jakey was puzzled. He made a desperate effort to 
 conjure up a reply. 
 
 "Wal," he said presently, "I reckon I'd jest wait 
 fo' you 'uns ter do somep'n." 
 
chick: A Ma uga . 211 
 
 "Your ground would be strong enough in itself, but 
 weak on the flanks, especially your left, and in case 
 of retreat you would have the creek to cross in face of 
 an enemy — a hazardous undertaking. I would turn 
 your left and get possession of the roads to Chatta- 
 nooga. Perhaps I could defeat you and force you to 
 recross the creek. While you were doing so I would 
 knock you to pieces. If you succeeded in crossing 
 you would find my troops in your rear between you 
 and Chattanooga." 
 
 Jakey neither understood nor even heard a word his 
 opponent said, but he looked as seriously studious over 
 the problem as if he were the general commanding. 
 
 "Are you whipped, general?" asked Maynard. 
 
 "Wal, mebbe ef I air whipped I don' know nothen 
 'bout 't, 'n I'll jest go on fighten till I make you 'uns 
 think thet you 'uns air whipped." 
 
 "Like Grant at Pittsburgh Landing." 
 
 The reference Avas lost on Jakey, but it led him to 
 think that he had made a point ; he looked very wise 
 and said nothing. He was thinking on a line which 
 he feared might be of some practical importance to his 
 individual self. He was not certain but that it would 
 be necessary for him to make the connecting link in 
 person between his friend and his friend's wife. So 
 he turned the conversation on lines of retreat. 
 
 "Now suppose," he said, "just supposen I war 
 busted, right hyar, how'd I git away?" 
 
 "That would depend on the condition of things. 
 If I were the general opposing you, you'd never get 
 away safely. I'd never stop till I had driven you into 
 the Tennessee River." 
 
512 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "How could I get thar from hyar?" 
 
 "This part of your army where we are now, could 
 only fall back on Rossville. There the flanks would be 
 better protected for a stand. You could go from Ross- 
 ville to Chattanooga by this road" (pointing to it on the 
 map). "If you should be successful in keeping your 
 enemy far enough from you and long enough, you 
 might cross the river there, and save your army. You 
 might perhaps stay there if not too reduced in num- 
 bers, and if you could keep your line of supply open." 
 
 "This air th' bridge I'd cross the creek on, I 
 reckon," pointing to Reed's Bridge on the map, 
 
 "That's the nearest from where we are." 
 
 " Wal, general, ' ' said Jakey, in a tone to indicate that 
 the discussion of the campaign was ended; "ef you 
 'uns bust me I'll retreat that-a-way." 
 
 Nothing more was said about the imaginary cam- 
 paign by either. Maynard's eye was fixed on his water 
 map, and he was lost in study. Jakey let him alone till 
 he saw that he was drifting back to his trouble. Then 
 he endeavored to lead him into war again. At last, 
 seizing a favorable opportunity, the boy suggested the 
 propriety of sending some message to his wife. 
 
 "Time enough for that after the fight," was all 
 Maynard would say. Jakey was discouraged. He 
 knew that if his friend lived after the fight it would 
 not be his own fault. 
 
XXII. 
 
 jakey's announcement. 
 
 JAKEY considered himself bound in honor to report 
 to Mrs. Maynard her husband's condition, not only 
 on account of his promise made her on the evening of 
 his departure for the front, but because he had a vague 
 unformulated notion that there are certain exigencies 
 where only women can "do somep'n," and he knew 
 that "the general" required his wife's attention. 
 There seemed to be no way of acquainting her with 
 the condition of affairs except to go and tell her him- 
 self. Jakey, being in the army, could not leave it with- 
 out permission. The question was how to get such 
 permission. Not being a quick thinker Jakey spent 
 several hours on the problem without any result. At 
 last he determined to make a beginning, at least, and 
 going to the headquarters of the new commander of 
 the brigade, he sent in word that "General" Maynard's 
 clerk wished for an audience. Jakey was ushered into 
 the presence of a gray bearded colonel, twenty years 
 older than the late colonel commanding, who in Colo- 
 nel Maynard's clerk expected to see a soldier not less 
 than eighteen years old, and standing over the regula- 
 tion limit of five feet four. ^Vhen little Jakey Slack 
 appeared before him he opened his eyes in surprise. 
 "What do you want, sonny?" 
 
 813 
 
2 1 4 Chick AM A uCa . 
 
 "General Maynard, he don't command no mo', 'n 
 I want ter go hum," 
 
 "What position do you hold in the service. I see 
 you wear Uncle Sam's buttons." 
 
 "Drummer, detailed fo' duty at General May- 
 nard's headquarters." 
 
 "In that event, you'll have to go back to the band 
 you started from. I can't let you go home. I have 
 no such power." 
 
 Jakey turned from the tent without another word. 
 He had cast his fortunes with "General" Maynard, 
 and, while he was in his element with the army, that 
 army was nothing to Jakey without the "General." 
 He made up his mind that if he could not keep his 
 promise to Mrs. Maynard with permission, he would 
 keep it without permission. Now Jakey had learned 
 enough of army regulations to know that absence with- 
 out leave at such a critical juncture would be considered 
 as flagrant a breach of army regulations as desertion, 
 and the penalty for desertion he well knew was to be 
 shot. 
 
 "Wal," he said after mature deliberation. "I goen 
 ter do what I promised anyway." 
 
 A violation of principle, even if it is to right a wrong, 
 will always extend its malign influence. Mark May- 
 nard had made such a violation, and here was Jakey 
 Slack, who looked to him for guidance, about to imi- 
 tate his example. If his beloved "general" could 
 break an army regulation, certainly it would be no 
 harm for him to do so. At least so reasoned Jakey. 
 
 He had always kept the clothes he had on when he 
 joined the army. He felt that he was of quite enough 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 215 
 
 importance to have impedimenta^ and the only impedi- 
 menta he possessed was his old clothes. They had 
 been carried in the wagon with Colonel Maynard's 
 baggage and now came in handy. Jakey did them up 
 in a bundle, and as the bugles were blowing the tattoo, 
 he sallied forth to saddle Tom. The horse looked 
 around and, seeing Jakey, submitted himself to be 
 saddled and bridled, after which Jakey, with his bundle 
 under his arm, mounted by the aid of a convenient 
 stump and rode away. He was stopped by a sentinel, 
 who recognizing him as the former brigade command- 
 er's factotum, permitted him to pass. Having crossed 
 the creek and reached a clump of trees away from the 
 camps he rode into it, and dismounting took off his 
 blue and brass and put on his old clothes. 
 
 "Ef the general air reduced," he said, "I reckon I 
 got ter be. These air good 'nuff fo' me now." 
 
 Having divested himself of the plumage, which, not- 
 withstanding his remark, was very dear to him, he rolled 
 it in a bundle, and fastening it in the crotch of a tree 
 where it would be covered by successive layers of green 
 boughs, he carefully noted the place, which was the 
 only wooded spot near the fork of two roads, so that in 
 case he should want his uniform again he could find it. 
 Then remounting Tom he set off toward Rossville, re- 
 membering by the water map that the right-hand road 
 led there. 
 
 It was about eleven o'clock at night when he reached 
 Rossville. He determined to rest there a few hours, and 
 making for a cavalry camp, got on the "soft side" of a 
 sergeant, and turned in with his natural associates, the 
 soldiers. Jakey asked the guard to waken him at two 
 
2 1 6 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 o'clock, at which time, after a bite furnished by his 
 friend, the sergeant, and a feed for Tom, he set off 
 toward Chattanooga. At daylight he crossed the 
 Tennessee River and was soon on his way across the 
 neck of Moccasin Point toward his destination. 
 
 As Jakey approached the plantation it occurred to 
 him for the first time that the information he bore was 
 not pleasant for him to give to anyone, especially a 
 woman, and that woman "the general's" wife. 
 
 "Reckon she 'uns '11 be skeered when she sees me," 
 he muttered to himself. "I don't like this business 
 nohow. Wonder I didn't think o' this befo'. Wish 
 ther' wor some'un ter tell her. Mebbe I'll see Souri 
 first. Ef I do, I'll let her tell." 
 
 But Jakey was not so lucky. He reached the plan- 
 tation just before breakfast-time, and as Laura May- 
 nard cast a glance from her chamber window she saw 
 him ride up to the veranda. She remembered well the 
 promise she had extracted from Jakey, and knew in a 
 moment that he was the bearer of some bad news. 
 Putting her hand on her heart, to stop its thumping, she 
 ran downstairs and out on to the veranda. The boy 
 dismounted and came up the steps. 
 
 "O Jakey, what is it?" 
 
 Now, Jakey had his own methods of carrying his 
 points, and whether or no they were original or ingeni- 
 ous he carried them. Sometimes his parrying was very 
 clumsy. It was so now. He must gain time at all 
 hazards. 
 
 "What air what?" 
 
 "There's something happened to the colonel. I 
 know it. Tell me the worst," 
 
CHICKAMA UGA. 2 1 ^ 
 
 "Wal, now, Mrs. Maynard, 'the general' he hain't 
 dead nohow." 
 
 "Thank Heaven he lives. Is he ill or wounded? 
 Is the wound mortal? Or is his illness dangerous? 
 Will he recover? Oh, tell me, tell me!" 
 
 "Which 'un o' them air questions shell I answer 
 fust?" 
 
 Souri came out on to the veranda, and seeing Jakey 
 took him into her arms. 
 
 "What are you doing here, Jakey?" she asked. 
 
 "Reckon I air a standen on ter th' gallery jest now." 
 
 "Mark is ill, wounded. Heaven knows what!" ex- 
 claimed Laura, "he won't tell me." She clasped her 
 hands and trembled. 
 
 "Jakey, don't give Mrs, Maynard pain by keeping 
 her in suspense; tell her." 
 
 But Souri dreaded to have her friend hear bad news, 
 as well as Jakey dreaded to give it. 
 
 "Wal," said Jakey, cornered, "the general: he air 
 damned obstinate." 
 
 "Obstinate?" 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 "What do you mean, Jakey?" asked Souri, encour- 
 agingly. 
 
 "Wal. The general, he reckons ther's goen to be a 
 big fight 'n he's goen fo' ter git hisself killed." 
 
 "Heavens!" exclaimed Laura. "What does \\. all 
 mean?" 
 
 "Means Miss Baggs." 
 
 "MissBaggs!" cried the wife, bristling. "So it's 
 something about /ler." 
 
 " "T'sall 'bout her." 
 
2 1 8 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 "Tell me what you mean, this instant," said Laura, 
 with flashing eyes. 
 
 By this time Jakey had got to a point where he 
 could begin to tell his story. He did so after the 
 following fashion : 
 
 "Miss Baggs, she wor kecht taken the telegraphs off 
 'n th' wires and turned over to the general. The 
 general he wanted to turn her over to headquarters; 
 but they was too smart for him. They tole him 't try 
 her 'n kill her." 
 
 "The cruel monsters!' cried Laura, 
 
 "Maybe Jakey's got it wrong. They'd not be 
 likely to express it that way," said Souri. 
 
 "Reckon that's about it with a spy, anyhow. The 
 genera], he tried her, but when it come 't killen her, 
 he wasn't thar. " 
 
 "The noble man; it is just like him," from Laura. 
 
 "Then he found out that she was a sister of a old 
 friend o' his'n." 
 
 "Who was that?" from Laura. 
 
 "Mister Fitz Hugh." 
 
 "Caroline Fitz Hugh?" 
 
 "Reckon." 
 
 "Who is she?" asked Souri of Laura. 
 
 "I — I never saw her. I know who she is, 
 though." 
 
 "Then the general he dressed hisself like a pri- 
 vate sojer, *n he 'n Corporal Ratigan " 
 
 "'Corporal Ratigan!" exclaimed Souri. 
 
 "Yas, he 'n Corporal Ratigan, they run her over the 
 lines." 
 
 "Well?" from Laura, breathlessly. 
 
CHICK A MA VGA. 219 
 
 "The general he confessed, 'n they tried him 
 'n " Jakey hesitated. 
 
 "Sentenced him to be ? O Souri, help me." 
 
 And Laura tottered against her friend. 
 
 "Ter be cashyered." 
 
 "Do tell me what it is," gasped Laura, looking im- 
 ploringly at Souri. 
 
 "I don't know; what is it, Jakey?" 
 
 "Bein' dropped out'n th' service." 
 
 "And is that all?" cried Laura, hysterically. "Only 
 dropped out of the service: and for doing a noble 
 act ! Poor Mark ! I know that he will consider this a 
 terrible disgrace, but to me it is a blessing. Now I can 
 show him how I love him," and dropping her head 
 on Souri's shoulder she burst into a torrent of tears. 
 
XXIII. 
 
 THE FIRST GUN AT CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 MARK MAYNARD was passing the first night after 
 his sentence. Jakey had left him, after their dis- 
 cussion of the campaign, to relapse into gloom. He 
 blew out his candle and threw himself on his camp cot. 
 Sleep would not come. The events of the past few 
 days caracoled fantastically before him like an army of 
 cavalry goblins in review. They had scarcely got by 
 before they turned and came cantering back again. 
 Thus th^y marched and countermarched till midnight, 
 and still no sign of sleep. Maynard tossed and turned 
 and pined for day. And what would it bring forth? 
 Surely a battle could not be much longer delayed, 
 and witli a battle there was a chance for oblivion. 
 
 Scratching a match he reached for his watch. It 
 was twelve o'clock. He felt that he could no longer 
 bear those low-peaked canvas walls above him. He 
 must get out under the broader canopy. Lighting his 
 candle he noticed the uniform of private Flanagan, in 
 which he had aided the escape of Caroline Fitz Hugh. 
 He put it on and, throwing back the tent flaps, stepped 
 out into the night. The sky was covered with thin 
 clouds, behind which the moon shone, giving a light be- 
 tween darkness and moonlight. He set out toward the 
 front. Passing out of his own immediate camp he 
 ascended the slope of Pea Vines Ridge, which stood 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 2 21 
 
 dark against the eastern sky. Climbing to one of its 
 highest points, where he could overlook the Pea Vine 
 Valley, he seated himself on a rock and gave himself 
 over to meditation. Around him was the dark circle 
 of the horizon, while above was the great dome. 
 Beneath him, on the eastern slope of the ridge, were 
 the Union out-posts, beyond which slept a Confederate 
 army. Back of him, in the valley of the Chickamauga, 
 were the Union troops, the two armies making in 
 all a hundred thousand souls. 
 
 And yet these vast numbers seemed dwarfed under 
 the great vault above. The heavens would last for- 
 ever, but these hundred thousand men must all at last 
 be gathered within the slowly folding wings of time. 
 Many doubtless in a few days ; a moiety of the whole, 
 a few gray beards from the now youthful ranks, meet- 
 ing once a year to talk over their long past campaigns, 
 speak reverently of their fallen comrades and part to 
 convene in smaller numbers the next year. One by 
 one they would join those who had become a part of 
 the fields on which they fought; their better part re- 
 forming in their new-born existence, spiritual hosts 
 unalloyed with human passions, to continue an eternal 
 contest bet'ween right and wrong. 
 
 While Maynard was thus musing there came a dis- 
 tant rumbling from the south. It grew^ faded, was 
 lost, and reappeared, the unmistakable rattle of a train. 
 It came on slowly from a distance of several miles, the 
 rolling of the trucks, the panting of the locomotive, 
 growing louder the while, till it reached a point directly 
 east of where he was sitting and a few miles south of 
 Ringold. There it could not only be heard, but seen 
 
22 2 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 by him. He watched it move on up the road and at 
 last it was lost in Ringold. He listened to hear if it 
 went further, but the sound did not recommence. 
 
 Scarcely had the train stopped when another was 
 heard coming from the same direction. It, too, came 
 on, was lost for a time in the tunnel, and passing north, 
 stopped where the other had stopped. Then came a 
 third and a fourth, all moving in the same direction. 
 In less than an hour Maynard counted five trains, all 
 of which stopped at Ringold. 
 
 He rose from his seat. "There," he exclaimed, 
 pointing to Ringold, "is a point from which, if I am 
 not mistaken, there will soon come an attack on our 
 lines. They are bringing troops in those trains to 
 mass them on our left, where there is so little to oppose 
 them. If the trains were going south, it would argue 
 that the enemy were retreating. Coming north means 
 that they are going to take the offensive. It looks to 
 me as if this rapid moving of men at this hour meant a 
 daylight attack right here on the left. If so, there is no 
 time to lose. I must get back and give a warning." 
 
 He walked rapidly in the direction of Reed's Bridge, 
 where he knew all about the forces encamped there 
 (cavalry and artillery), but as he walked it occurred to 
 him that his information would likely not be credited 
 in any event, and as a deposed oiificer it would be espe- 
 cially liable to be disregarded. Still he went on, has- 
 tening his pace, and coming to the headquarters of the 
 commanding officer of the troops he sought, found an 
 aide who was on duty all night, the general being ap- 
 prehensive in his exposed position, and wishing to be 
 called at the slightest sign of an attack. To him May- 
 
CHICh'AMAUGA. 223 
 
 nard recounted what he had seen, and the general was 
 awakened and informed. He turned a willing ear to 
 Maynard's caution, and at once ordered that the men 
 be aroused, the horses fed and breakfast prepared. 
 Then the horses were saddled, the artillery harnessed, 
 and the baggage loaded into the wagons. 
 
 After imparting his information Maynard went to his 
 own camp, called for his horse, and buckling on his 
 saber and pistol rode back to the camp he had left. 
 He arrived just in time to join a reconnoitering party 
 starting to ride over the ridge in the direction of 
 Ringold. Being in a private's uniform he was not rec- 
 ognized by 'ihe men — his appearance was much 
 changed by the loss of his beard — and fell in with the 
 last files as though he belonged to the troop. 
 
 The squadron trotted up the road leading through a 
 gap in the ridge, and stood on a summit overlooking 
 the Pea Vine Valley. By the light of day Maynard 
 looked down upon the landscape he had seen a few 
 hours before: but ah, how changed. Ten thousand 
 men in gray were coming across the valley. 
 
 It is a solemn sight at any time to see an army mov- 
 ing to strike a foe. There was something in the silent 
 movement — too far for him to hear the tramp of the 
 men advancing over the intervening space, still wearing 
 its summer robes of green — to remind him of a thunder 
 cloud rising in a clear sky. There were compact col- 
 umns of infantry steadily marching, while on either 
 flank cavalry trotted forward, head up, like a troop of 
 lions over jungle. Occasionally there came a confu- 
 sion of distant sounds — orders — mere murmurings 
 preceding the storm. The advancing host seemed 
 
2 24 CHICICA I\tA OCA . 
 
 rather a troop of specters, moving with the wind — an 
 array of malicious spirits coming to scatter a plague 
 from their still silent weapons. 
 
 This fancy vanished with the first few shots from the 
 skirmishers. They were too real, too spiteful, to at- 
 tril)ute to any but human agencies. Back goes the 
 thin line of blue before the scattered Confederates in 
 advance, supported by thick columns of dusty gray. 
 No skirmisli line would care to stand against these 
 columns coming silently, not yet in presence of a foe 
 worthy of a volley. 
 
 Suddenly there is a rumbling, a shouting, a lashing 
 of horses in Maynard's rear. Turning he sees a Union 
 battery, drawn by horses, galloping up the slope from 
 the bridge. Dashing into position, the horses are 
 swung around, pointing the muzzles of cannon toward 
 the advancing host. The guns are unlimbered ; there 
 is a boom, followed by a shrieking shell arching toward 
 the heavens, and dropping with a sound like an 
 exploding rocket over one of the advancing columns. 
 
 The shot produces a change in the disposition of the 
 closely packed Confederates, as a turn of a kaleidoscope 
 alters the coml)ination of colors. The closed columns 
 halt, quickly extend wings on either side, joining tips, 
 each while deploying, resembling the continued line, 
 from tip to tip, of some huge distant bird. Now they 
 are in line of battle, and once more move forward, 
 while the Union battery drops shells in their extended 
 and less vulnerable ranks. Marching over open 
 fields, crossing gulleys, now lost in a wood, to appear 
 upon its other edge, bisecting creek and road, a slowly 
 drawing coil, a line of the "ribbed sea sand," a streak 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 225 
 
 of dust before a rising wind, the Southerners move 
 steadily forward. Before them the Union outposts 
 give way, retreating under cover of their guns. 
 
 What are those funereal looking wagons driving up 
 and being stationed at different points? those, men, 
 with a strip of red flannel about their arms, scattering 
 themselves over the field? To the young enthusiast 
 for war in the distance, who has been impatient to see 
 a battle, these wagons, these men marked with red, 
 composing the ambulance corps, getting ready to take 
 care of dead who have not yet been killed, wounded 
 who have not yet been hit, bring the first realization of 
 what war means. There is none of the harsh music 
 of haiile about these grim-looking wagons, these men 
 waitmg for victims, to brighten the eye and send the 
 blood coursing through the veins. They go about 
 their work in a methodical fashion that dampens ardor 
 as water quenches fire. They mock a soldier's ambi- 
 tion for glory. There is something in the calculation, 
 the preparation, to remind him that, after all, the gold 
 lace, the feathers, the martial music, are but to cause 
 him, like the pampered sacrifice, to forget what he is 
 for — to be shot. 
 
 But Mark Maynard was a veteran, and had seen all 
 this before. He gave the ambulance corps a single 
 glance, and then looking toward a group of Union offi- 
 cers partly concealed from him by the smoke of the 
 battery, saw one of them, with the stars of a brigadier- 
 general on his shoulder, peer northward through a 
 field-glass. Turning his eyes in the same direction he 
 could see a light cloud rising west of Ringold. He 
 watched it and observed that one end of it was trend- 
 
2 26 CHICK A MA VCA . 
 
 ing toward a ford, north of Reed's Ridge. The officer 
 soon shut up his glass, and in another moment aides 
 were galloping away to give orders to retreat. A col- 
 umn of Confederates, extending for miles, were march- 
 ing to the ford to turn the Union left, and no time was 
 to be lost in getting the little force back to the bridge. 
 
 There is a quick limbering of guns, and skirmishers, 
 cavalry, gunners, all hurry back over the ridge. At 
 the bridge they find two regiments ready for any duty 
 to which they may be assigned. They are directed to 
 hold the ford to which the column of dust is moving. 
 Protected in that direction, the force at the bridge 
 awaits more confidently the coming of the advancing 
 Confederates. 
 
 Tliey have not long to wait. The skirmishers, a 
 thin line of gray, is soon seen skurrying over the ridge 
 like light scattered clouds before a "white squall." 
 The main line of gray is still tramping over the Pea 
 Vine Valley, keeping the slow pace of their heavy guns. 
 The Union men do not wait for the stronger force; 
 they turn upon these skirmishers and drive them back 
 through the gap to their more slowly moving comrades. 
 
 Mark Maynard, following with the rest, soon again 
 found himself on the ridge. There, in the valley below, 
 was the line of battle he had seen, but nearer — a cres- 
 cent-shaped line extending from the bank of the creek 
 above the ford across the northern end of the ridge 
 into the Pea Vine Valley. Battle-flags appeared above 
 the line at regular intervals; each one of fifteen flags 
 Maynard counted, indicating a regiment. He knew 
 that the little Union force east of the Chickamauga 
 could not stand against what appeared to be at least a 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 227 
 
 division of infantry with a very strong force of cavalry. 
 Nor was he wrong; the scythe swung round as if 
 moved by the arms of a Titan, mowing with its sharp 
 edge the opposing Unionists. They were sent flying 
 back to the bridge and hurriedly put themselves into a 
 position to defend it. 
 
 They are ready for the storm when it breaks, meet- 
 ing it with artillery and charges of cavalry. The Con- 
 federates are driven, but by this time their artillery has 
 been got forward and posted at a point north of the 
 bridge, where it can sweep the valley of the creek, the 
 bridge, and those whose purpose it is to defend it. 
 
 Now there is imminent danger. Will the little force 
 on the east bank get over or will it be cut off and cap- 
 tured by these overwhelming Confederates? It can 
 only be saved by one portion charging the enemy while 
 the others are moving by twos (the bridge will stand 
 no more) across the structure. 
 
 Among those who charged and recharged to keep off 
 the gray coats swarming upon them on that eventful 
 morning, always in the advance, in the spitting line of 
 foam that precedes the billow rolling upon the sand, 
 Mark Maynard was ever present. As each wave rolled 
 from the margin of the Chickamauga broke upon the 
 Southerners, and receded, a number of the Union 
 troops had passed the bridge. Maynard waited till 
 every man was over, then stepping on the bridge he 
 joined a party who were tearing up the flooring, to 
 prevent the enemy from following. At last these left 
 for the shore and he remained alone. As board after 
 board came up, the Confederates pushed nearer, but 
 still he worked on. Bullets sang to each other as they 
 
228 CHICI^A MA VGA . 
 
 passed from east to west and from west to east, while 
 the air was thick with interminable explosions. At 
 last all was done that could be done. Whether his 
 action had so excited the admiration of his enemies 
 that the}' had no heart to shoot him, or whether an 
 overruling power would not let him die, he at last 
 turned unhurt and joined his comrades. 
 
 He liad been exposed as never before, as he might 
 never be again, but he had not met Death. 
 
XXIV. 
 
 THE NINETEENTH OF SEPTEMBER. 
 
 SELDOM has an army been in a more critical posi- 
 tion than the Army of the Cumberland at this 
 juncture. The Confederates overlapped the Union 
 front on the nortli Ijy half a dozen miles, and between 
 Confederates and the Chattanooga road, leading from 
 what was both the Union left and rear into Chatta- 
 nooga, there were only small bodies of cavalry. Bragg 
 had but to overwhelm these, cross the Chickamauga, 
 and march a few miles westward to seize this road and 
 throw himself between his enemy and that enemy's 
 base — Chattanooga. It was his intention to cross 
 Reed's Bridge by eight o'clock in the morning, with 
 one column, and Alexander's Bridge, a few miles 
 above, at the same hour, the two columns to join and 
 seize the coveted road, attack Crittenden's left, while 
 a third Confederate column, crossing at Dalton's Ford, 
 would attack him in front. Crittenden once crushed 
 under these combined forces, as it was expected he 
 would be by noon, the whole Confederate army was to 
 overwhelm Thomas, still ten miles distant, leaving 
 McCook, twenty miles away, to be finished later on. 
 
 There was nothing on the left to prevent the execu- 
 tion of this attractive plan but the two bodies of cav- 
 alry at Reed's and Alexander's bridges. Eight o'clock 
 came and they were not overwlielmed. The sun stood 
 
^3° CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 high over the valley of the Chickamauga, and still the 
 Confederates had not crossed at either of these two 
 points. The defenders of the bridges were a swarm of 
 hornets flying in their enemies' faces with many an 
 effective sting. At noon they were still stinging. It 
 was not till three o'clock in the afternoon that the de- 
 fenders of Alexander's Bridge were forced to give way, 
 and those at Reed's Bridge only retired on learning 
 that the other had been captured by the enemy. So 
 the morning and the afternoon passed, and when even- 
 ing fell but eight thousand Confederates had been 
 thrown across. What was to have been executed on 
 Friday, the eighteenth of September, must be deferred 
 till the next day. Will it then be too late? 
 
 The moon is lighting up the field, the woods, the 
 summits of the two ridges inclosing the valley of the 
 Chickamauga, and a hundred thousand soldiers. The 
 air is cold and crisp, and myriads of camp-fires are 
 scattered over the valley, as a reflection of the starry 
 heavens upon the bosom of a lake. All night the 
 moon gleams upon the steel of the two sleepless armies: 
 the Confederates pushing across the Chickamauga, the 
 Unionists marching to cover their unprotected left. 
 Many a soldier casts his eye up into the serene heavens 
 and remarks the Queen of Night looking down upon 
 him, so pale, so cold, so dead, as if in mockery of his 
 own animate being, and prophetic of what may come 
 for him on the morrow. 
 
 From the southward comes the tramp of dust-cov- 
 ered men in blue. At their head rides one who before 
 the sun twice sets is to take first rank among the heroes 
 of Chickamauga, Thomas is leading his men from a 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 231 
 
 distant point far beyond Crittenden, to the exposed 
 left and rear; to the Chattanooga road — the road com- 
 manding the line of communication of the Army of the 
 Cumberland. It must be a forced march, for the time 
 is short and the distance is great. 
 
 From the eastward the Confederates are pushing 
 across the Chickamauga. Every available passage is 
 occupied, but there is little left of the bridges and it is 
 slow and hazardous work at the fords. Large bodies 
 of men are like streams. They flow easily across open 
 countries, but become choked in narrow ways. Yet 
 the work goes on. It is a long night; long for these 
 men wading through water, or standing in the chilly 
 hours past midnight in wet clothing. It is an eventful 
 night; for if they get across in sufficient force, and 
 the way is still unblocked as yesterday, the fate of the 
 Union army is sealed. 
 
 At midnight Maynard lay under a tree, trying to 
 catch some sleep. The exertion of the day would have 
 brought it, for he was exhausted; but his position, as 
 to the army with which he had no place, was burning 
 him like a hot iron, A few days before and he would 
 have been leading his brigade through these stirring 
 scenes. Now he was not even a private soldier. He 
 was an outcast, a wretch too detestable for the respect 
 even of menial cooks and strikers, of teamsters, of the 
 grasping horde of army followers, whose object was to 
 cheat the soldier and rob the dead. 
 
 The moon, finding a convenient opening in the 
 boughs above him, looked at him in a way that in a 
 measure quieted him. What an absence of turmoil on 
 her surface! No guns roar in her valleys, no armies 
 
232 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 contend for the possession of her ringed ridges. The 
 thought for a moment chased away his desire for obliv- 
 ion. He shuddered at her nothingness. The scenes 
 through which he was passing seemed far preferable. 
 He was in the midst of man's coveted action. While 
 that lasted he could not for long be plunged in despair. 
 Thank Heaven, he was permitted to seek solace in 
 such turmoil, such roaring of guns and yelling of men 
 as had come and was coming. 
 
 Toward morning his thoughts became less intense, 
 less clear. The sounds coming from a troop of horses, 
 picketed near, became more and more confused ; the 
 snores of men, resting after a day of hard fighting, lost 
 their vigor; the branches above him twined indis- 
 tinctly ; he slept. 
 
 He was awakened by the sound of a gun. It was 
 broad day. He started up and listened. Then came 
 another dull boom, then another, and in a few min- 
 utes there was the rapid firing of a battle on the left. 
 Surely that is not the little body of cavalry in whose 
 ranks he had fought the day before. 
 
 Mounting he rode toward it through a partly 
 wooded, partly open country. The fields were gray, 
 but the woods were still green. Then there was the 
 odor of the morning in the country and the chirping 
 of birds, hunting for their breakfast. It would not 
 be long before that perfume must give way to the 
 smell of gunpowder, before the chirping of the birds 
 would be drowned by the sounds of musketry and 
 artillery. 
 
 Meeting an aid-de-camp riding at full speed toward 
 the south, he called out, pointing in the direction of the 
 
CHICKAMA UGA. 233 
 
 firing, which he could now discern was on or near 
 the Chattanooga road : 
 
 "Who's there?" 
 
 "Old Pap, with two divisions." 
 
 Maynard uttered an exclamation of surprise and 
 pleasure. 
 
 "How did he get there?" 
 
 "Marched all night." 
 
 "Much force in his front?" 
 
 "You bet! I'm going for reinforcements;" and 
 in a moment he was out of sight. 
 
 A courier came dashing from the opposite direction. 
 
 "What news from the right?" 
 
 "The head of McCook's column is at Crawfish 
 Springs." 
 
 "Good. The army is safe for the present; the 
 game is balked." 
 
 Striking the road leading to Alexander's Bridge he 
 found himself in rear of the Union line of battle that 
 had opened on the left. A force hurried by to the 
 support of comrades at the front. The ground he was 
 on had just been fought over, and dead and wounded 
 were scattered everywhere. Entering a wood he 
 pushed forward through it, A young soldier, a boy 
 of eighteen, was sitting on the ground, supported by a 
 tree, gasping for breath. A red stream, running down 
 his bosom, showed that he had been shot through the 
 lungs. "You are thinking of home, my boy," mut- 
 tered Maynard, and pushed on. An officer lay in his 
 path and begged him for what the wounded crave so 
 eagerly — water. Maynard rode about hunting for a 
 stream or a spring. At last lie found what he sought, 
 
234 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 and filling a canteen rode back to where the man lay. 
 He was dead. In his hand he held a picture of wife 
 and two little children.* Within hearing of the boom- 
 ing in front and shells cutting the trees above him, he 
 had passed from the harshest, through the gentlest of 
 human feelings, to the eternal peace. 
 
 Riding on Maynard met an officer he had known 
 intimately. Without thought of his altered condition, 
 the degraded colonel waved his hand in .salute and 
 cried out: "How goes the battle, major?" The 
 officer passed by with a look which Maynard never 
 forgot. It sent the hot blood mounting to his cheeks. 
 He could have cloven the man's skull with his sabre. 
 But there was no need of that. Was there not an 
 enemy at the front? Yes, and there was death. He 
 dashed on and arrived at one of the hottest points on 
 the left just as a line of cavalry was moving to a charge. 
 
 Joining them he rode down into a storm so wild, so 
 fierce, so full of destruction that surely he thought the 
 coveted Death must come. But the gaps in the ranks 
 were to his right, to his left, anywhere, everywhere, 
 except where he rode. And when the troopers with 
 whom he fought came out of the fight Mark Maynard 
 was still among the living. 
 
 So opened the battle of Saturday, September the 
 nineteenth. Throughout that day Maynard rode 
 wherever he saw that the grim specter hovered. At 
 times he was with the cavalry, at times he would dis- 
 mount, and leaving his horse in the rear go forward 
 with a musket. On one occasion, catching the enthu- 
 
 * The incident is related in war memories of an officer : " Steed- 
 man and his men at Chicl<amauga." 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 235 
 
 siasm of battle, he was forgetting his misfortune, when 
 the officer of the regiment with which he fought rec- 
 ognized him. The two had been at enmity, 
 
 "Leave these ranks!" 
 
 Maynard turned, saw that he was addressed, and 
 who addressed him. Throwing down his gun, the hot 
 tears bursting from his eyes, he turned away. 
 
 Again he was tramping through a cornfield on the 
 flank of a regiment, when he saw a division general in- 
 specting the men as they passed forward to an attack. 
 He recognized the general who had sent the spy to him. 
 Their eyes met. Maynard had by this time come to see 
 through the device by which the other had led him into 
 his present position and regarded the officer steadily. 
 The man turned his horse's head and galloped away. 
 There was one man in the army who did not care to 
 look him in the eye. 
 
 Maynard kept Madge, as far as possible, within strik- 
 ing distance, returning to her frequently after his 
 marches on foot. As the dusk of evening was coming 
 on he mounted her and rode forward to get the posi- 
 tion of the Confederate line in his front. He was in 
 rear of a Union line lying down and firing. They 
 would fire, rise, move forward a little, fall and fire 
 again. Maynard kept near in their rear, till wishing 
 to see how the line joined on the left, he rode in that 
 direction. He was astonished not to find any troops 
 there. Glancing in his rear he discovered the backs 
 of troops firing in the opposite direction. It at once 
 occurred to him that they were Confederates, who had 
 pushed further forward than their supports. He was 
 about to turn away, when he saw that he was discov- 
 
236 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 ered. With that resource for which he had been 
 famous in his scouting days, he determined to play a 
 bold game. It was growing dark, and in his dusty and 
 begrimed condition it would be difficult for anyone to 
 tell what uniform he wore. Putting spurs to his horse 
 he dashed in front of the Confederate line, holding up 
 his hand and shouting: 
 
 "Stop this firing. Stop firing." 
 
 Those who heard him obeyed. Riding along the 
 line toward the colonel he cried : 
 
 "Colonel, you'll kill our own men if you don't 
 cease firing in that direction." 
 
 Dashing on, as if he were a staff officer on an impor- 
 tant duty, he watched his opportunity, and seeing cover 
 in the distance gave Madge the spurs and amid a 
 shower of bullets (for by this act it was plain to which 
 side he belonged) rode into safety. 
 
 "General," he said, riding up to an officer in com- 
 mand of a Union brigade, "there are some Confeder- 
 ates over there in advance of their line. If you will 
 march your men by the flank you'll go in behind 
 them and capture them." 
 
 "How do you know?" asked the general. 
 
 "I just came from there and saw them myself." 
 
 The order was given and parts of two Confederate 
 regiments were captured. The colonel commanding 
 them inquired for the Yankee who had been ordering 
 his men about, but by this time Maynard was off to 
 another part of the field.* 
 
 The day passed with a succession of blows upon an 
 
 * This feat was actually performed during the war by a young 
 ajd-decamp in the Union Army. 
 
CHICK A MA VGA. 237 
 
 army still too "strung out" for its own good. But 
 they were all successfully resisted. Wherever a 
 place was weak, some brigade or division was sent to 
 strengthen it, usually leaving a place where it had been. 
 But all points were strengthened in time; all damage 
 repaired, at least the damage on which hung defeat; 
 the damage to the dead and thirsting wounded scat- 
 tered along the line for miles could never be repaired. 
 It could be counted and laid down accurately in the 
 ofificial reports; but who can count or repair the 
 hearts broken with every charge, every defense. 
 
 And so the sun went down, over a field on wliich there 
 was no victory, no defeat; only suffering and death. 
 
XXV. 
 
 COMING OF THE RESERVE. 
 
 THE night has come again. The smoke has rolled 
 away from the battlefield of Chickamauga. There 
 is neither sound of cannon nor musketry, except here 
 and there an occasional picket firing. There is an- 
 other sound within the dark forest where Thomas' men 
 are resting, the sound of the wood-chopper's ax. The 
 commander-in-chief of the Confederates hears it and 
 knows with a general's quick perception that another 
 chance of destroying his enemy is passing. He can- 
 not enter that forest at the dead of night to stop that 
 chopping, and he knows as he hears hundreds of axes 
 replacing the more appalling sounds of the day with 
 the clatter of their blades, and now and again some 
 great tree crashing through its neighbors, that by morn- 
 ing his enemy will be entrenched behind breastworks. 
 Maynard bivouacked on Thomas' line. The two 
 armies lay too near to each other to light tell-tale camp- 
 fires, and as all equipage had been sent to the rear and 
 blankets were scarce the army spent the night shiver- 
 ing. The wood was too thick to see anything above 
 the lower branches. The men needed sleep, but it 
 would be as easy to sleep on the battlefield as in the 
 continuous clatter of those axes. Besides, distrust had 
 come upon the whole army. It was an anxious night 
 tp the generals, and the men partook of the solici- 
 
CHICK A MA L GA . 239 
 
 tude of their commanders. It was known that the 
 enemy had been reinforced from Virginia, Knoxville, 
 and other points. It was rumored that Burnside was 
 coming, but Burnside did not come. To a natural 
 fatigue was added that more appalling weariness of 
 being constantly in the presence of death, and the cer- 
 tainty that when the soldier should rise in the morning 
 the grim specter would rise with him to haunt him for 
 another day. 
 
 At midnight the corps and division generals met 
 at headquarters for a council of war. All believed 
 that the Army of the Cumberland had been sacrificed; 
 that they had been pushed forward without adequate 
 preparation or support, and that the enemy from even 
 distant Virginia had been permitted to slip away to 
 overwhelm them. There was dissatisfaction at the past 
 and foreboding for the morrow. As they rode away 
 to rejoin their commands, many an officer ground his 
 teeth and muttered imprecations upon those whose 
 mismanagement they considered had brought an im- 
 pending disaster. 
 
 There is a streak of gray in the east. The com- 
 mander-in-chief of the men in gray listens for the 
 sound of guns in the hands of those he has ordered to 
 begin the attack at daylight and which are to be a sig- 
 nal for others. The streak broadens; day comes, the 
 sun rises; it is eight o'clock. Still all is silent along 
 the line. It is only a mistake; only an order not re- 
 ceived or understood by the general who was to lead off, 
 but in that mistake is involved possible failure. With 
 all the vaunted generalship on the field of battle what is 
 it, after all, that turns the tide except the mistakes? 
 
2 40 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 Mark Maynard, on that Sunday morning, was lying 
 with his body in the dirt and his head on the root of a 
 tree. He dreamed that he had just come in from mak- 
 ing a charge at the head of his brigade, and was ap- 
 proaching his commander to report z glorious rucce:;s; 
 that the general said to him, after thankinr ';im f ^r hij 
 achievement: "Colonel, it will give me pleasure to rec- 
 ommend you for promotion to the rank of briga- 
 dier " 
 
 "General!" • 
 
 He awoke and saw Jakey Slack looking down on 
 him. It was he who had spoken the word "General!" 
 
 "General," said Jakey, as he saw his friend's eyes 
 open. " 'T's ben a damned hard fight." 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, my boy, where have you been, 
 and what are you doing here? The battle will open 
 soon again this morning. I wonder it hasn't opened 
 already. You must get back. " 
 
 "I thort I war a sojer. " 
 
 "Well, Jakey, you are a soldier; that's a fact; and 
 I'm not." 
 
 "Reckon I'll git cashyered. I ben away 'thout any 
 furlough." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Wal, I thort I'd go 'n see Souri afore the fight, cos 
 I mough'nt hev no chance after it. I mought git 
 killed, 'n then I wouldn't be no good nohow." 
 
 "Have you seen her?" 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 "And Laura?" he started up. 
 
 "Yas.^' 
 
 "And you told her " 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. H^ 
 
 "Reckon." 
 
 Maynard paused in his questions; be dreaded to 
 know how his wife had received the news. Did she 
 condemn him, with the rest? 
 
 Jakey put his hand in the pocket of his coat and 
 took out a card on which was a picture of Laura, hold- 
 ing her child. Maynard seized it and in a moment his 
 eyes were riveted on it, to the exclusion of all other 
 objects; his mind drank in thirstily all it suggested. 
 
 "Mark," he exclaimed suddenly. "For these you 
 must win back your spurs." 
 
 "Reckon she 'uns 'ud like fo' ter hear y' talk that- 
 away, " put in Jakey sympathetically. 
 
 "Jakey, I'm a changed man. I feel that I am to 
 have a chance to vindicate myself on the field to-day. 
 For two days I have been fighting in the ranks. I have 
 had only a private's opportunity, and that is to furnish 
 material for the sacrifice demanded by the god of war, 
 while the god only smiles on those who lead the vic- 
 tim. To-day — to-day " 
 
 "Somep'n '11 turn up sho', you bet." 
 
 "Come, we must get some breakfast. We'll need it 
 soon. This day will decide the fate of the Army of 
 the Cumberland." 
 
 Going to a group of soldiers near by, from whose 
 camp-fire emanated the pleasing odor of boiling coffee, 
 the two asked and received a breakfast. 
 
 A fog hung over the valley of the Chickamauga 
 which screeend the two armies from each other. May- 
 nard and Jakey were ignorant of their surroundings, a 
 hundred yards distant ; so they munched their "hard 
 tack" and swallowed their coft'ee, quite willing to be 
 
2 42 CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 hidden from Confederate fire while they were doing so. 
 Meanwhile Jakey gave his friend an account of his 
 trip, and how he had arrived on the field at noon the 
 day before. 
 
 "How did you find me, Jakey?" asked the hearer. 
 
 "Wal, I ast a good many sojers and none of 'em 
 knew whar y' war. 'Bout dark I heard one o' th' cav- 
 alry of the old brigade, our brigade^ that knew y*. He 
 was a tellen how y' went with 'em in a charge. They 
 all liked ter hev yer do that-a-way. I ast him whar I 
 mought find y', 'n he reckoned he sor y' goen up this 
 way. So I kem and found y'. That's all." 
 
 As he finished, Maynard exclaimed: 
 
 "Look." 
 
 The fog had suddenly lifted. They were on a ridge 
 which had been fortified during the night, the works 
 resembling a horse-shoe. Their position was on the 
 left side of the shoe and commanded a view up the 
 Chattanooga road, which ran directly north from where 
 they were. There, a short distance east of the road, 
 and overlapping the Union left, the lifting mist re- 
 vealed a line of Confederate gray. As Maynard spoke, 
 with a shout they rushed forward and took possession 
 of the prize they had been trying to grasp for two days. 
 They were between the Union army and Chattanooga. 
 
 Leaving Jakey where they were, and instructing him 
 to stay there till he should return, Maynard went down 
 to take a hand in the fight. He found a dead soldier, 
 whose musket and cartridge-box he seized, and pushing 
 on to the line of firing, took position with an infantry 
 regiment. The enemy, unsupported, were driven from 
 the Chattanooga road to a ridge near by, where they 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 243 
 
 halted and gave their pursuers a desperate fight. 
 Then the regiment to which Maynard had alHed him- 
 self was ordered to another part of the field and he 
 went with them. Passing through a thick fire of bul- 
 lets, which were mingled with the larger missiles of 
 cannon, he encountered a sight that has seldom been 
 seen on the field of battle. Crouching under a log was 
 a little girl * about eight years old, who having got 
 caught in among the disputants, was right in the midst 
 of a battlefield. Maynard never forgot the contrast be- 
 tween the terrified child and the unmerciful scenes sur- 
 rounding her. Being a volunteer he was under no 
 man's orders, except as he chose to obey them. Fall- 
 ing out of the ranks he went to the child, took her up 
 in his arms and while bullets pinged about them, and 
 shells screeched above them, carried her to the rear, 
 to where he had left Jakey. 
 
 "Here, Jakey," he said, setting her down by the boy, 
 "it's time you have a sweetheart, so I've brought you 
 one. She comes to you from the field of battle and 
 probably won't stand any nonsense. So you must 
 treat her with proper deference." 
 
 "Golly!" exclaimed the boy, squaring himself be- 
 fore the weeping girl, with his hands in his pockets. 
 
 "Take her to that house down there and wait till I 
 come; that is, if I ever do come; and, if I don't, tell 
 my wife to look out for this little one, and if neces- 
 sary provide for her. I must go ; there is hard fight- 
 ing at the front." 
 
 Jakey took the little girl by the hand and led her 
 
 * This incident is related in personal memories of an officer : 
 "Steedman and his men at Chickamauga." 
 
244 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 away, while Maynard went over to the south slope of 
 the ridge to see what was going on at the right. 
 Standing on an eminence he looked down on the con- 
 tending lines toward the south. 
 
 The sun was now standing midway between the 
 horizon and the meridian. The day had thus far gone 
 without any especial advantage on either side. Find- 
 ing the left strong, the Confederate commander was 
 massing troops on the right of the line of blue, May- 
 nard could see them marching into position for a 
 gigantic effort. 
 
 There was a momentary lull in the firing on the right 
 and Maynard thought that from a distance he caught 
 the faintest sound of a church bell. It might have 
 been fancy, for congregations would not be likely to 
 meet near a battlefield, and the continued roar in the 
 center and left would likely have prevented a bell 
 being heard. At any rate, it suddenly occurred to 
 him that it was Sunday morning. 
 
 Sunday morning! What a contrast between that and 
 other Sunday mornings he had passed. It was near 
 eleven o'clock, the hour when people were assembling 
 for worship, and he pictured the neatly dressed throngs 
 moving to church, while bells were ringing in the bel- 
 fries. All over the broad land congregations were as- 
 sembling, unmindful of the struggle that was going on 
 at Chickamauga. Doubtless in the early morning in 
 the cities "extras" had announced the battle of the 
 day before; doubtless in many there was a feverish in- 
 terest in the news from the front, and in some an anx- 
 iety for dear ones exposed there; but the vast throng 
 of worshipers, North and South, were about to bend the 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. ^45 
 
 knee in adoration of a beneficent Creator, while two 
 armies representing them were grappling in a death 
 struggle. 
 
 But an event occurred at that moment to put to 
 flight all thought in Maynard of what was passing else- 
 where. The enemy were moving to the attack. As 
 Maynard glanced toward the Union line, to see if it was 
 in condition, he saw a division face to the left and 
 begin a march in rear of another division, leaving its 
 place in the line a defenseless, yawning gap. 
 
 "Great Heavens! Some one has blundered!" 
 
 "Halt! Go back! Great God! what are you 
 doing?" 
 
 Who could hear him at such a distance, who would 
 obey him if heard? Oh, the agony of a sight like that! 
 To see men marching not only to their own destruction 
 but the destruction of their comrades ; doubtless of the 
 whole army ; and without the power to prevent them ! 
 Oh, for a battery with which to fire smoke over that 
 death-trap, to conceal it. Oh, for a cyclone to blow 
 dust in the eyes of those Confederates. God grant 
 that the stupidity which prevails in war may seize those 
 Southern generals, now; that they may not reap this 
 offered advantage. May they be blinded. God ! this 
 is terrible. 
 
 "There! They see it. They are preparing to 
 march through it. There they go. Hear those 
 cheers: that 'rebel yell.' They're near it; they're in 
 it. Our men are breaking on the right of the gap. 
 There goes a regiment, a whole brigade on the left. 
 Heavens! how those gray coats leap forward. It's a 
 splendid sight, if they are Confederates. They know 
 
246 CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 it's all up with us. The whole right of the army is 
 giving way ; broken, scattering pell-mell over the field, 
 chased by the Southerners pouring volley upon vol- 
 ley after them." 
 
 "Stop and rally! No, no one could rally troops on 
 the breast of Niagara. But there's a crumb of com- 
 fort: those men nearest this way are bending back 
 like wrought iron. They are not breaking. Good! 
 There's a faint hope for the left. But, O Lord, what's 
 the left, with the right and center gone?" 
 
 That historic blunder, followed by that historic dis- 
 aster, carried away in the maelstrom, the general-in- 
 chief of the army, the leader of a corps, and several 
 division commanders. There was no rallying point till 
 Mibsionary Ridge was reached, and that was four miles 
 away. Fortunately for the rest of the army some of 
 the troops belonging on the right of the Union line had 
 been sent to strengthen the left. These were saved from 
 the rout, and ready to stand by the still unbroken left. 
 
 And now comes a spectacle, a contrast which must 
 always stand out a splendid monument of heroic en- 
 durance in the great cemetery of war — the spectacle 
 of an army, one-half routed, gone, driven like dry 
 leaves, before the wind, the remaining half holding in 
 check for more than half a day a force against which the 
 whole had found it difficult to contend. Standing in 
 the center of the "horse-shoe," the fortification of 
 which his wisdom has constructed during the night, 
 General Thomas, intent upon guiding the troops of his 
 own corps, with no word from his commander-in-chief, 
 for a time not knowing, or at least not admitting, that the 
 army is by all the rules that govern the science of war 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 247 
 
 defeated, goes on fighting as if there is but one Army 
 of the Cumberland, and that composed of the troops 
 under his command. 
 
 The right put to flight, the Confederates prepare to 
 crush the remainder of the army. All around the 
 "horse-shoe" they gather their forces, and hurl them 
 against the blue-coats. The first onset fails. There 
 must be another. A second wave goes rolling on and 
 dashes against the logs behind which the one-armed 
 Army of the Cumberland is fixed. It recedes without 
 making a breach. It will need more such waves — a 
 constantly beating surf. Surely that curve, with flanks 
 bent almost in a circle, almost touching, cannot be 
 called a line of battle ; it may be a curve of battle, but 
 how can such a curve stand against the whole Army 
 of Tennessee? 
 
 But this curved array of bayonets is too tough to be 
 broken in front. It must be taken in flank. There is 
 a ridge just beyond the right heel of the "horse-shoe"; 
 it has been abandoned by the Unionists; no one seems 
 to know why. Climb up. Confederates, seize this 
 ridge; it commands the Union right. Once firmly 
 lodged there you can hammer them unmercifully. 
 
 And the gray coats do climb the ridge and drag 
 artillery with them. 
 
 The Union commander sees them, and at a glance 
 discerns that without a force to drive them from it his 
 army is lost. There is no such force; every man is 
 engaged, and needed where he is. The general's 
 brow is knit and his square mouth sets even more 
 firmly than before. 
 
 "There is a cloud of dust rising over there to the 
 
248 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 north, General, and men marching under it," said an 
 aide. "I wonder who they are?" 
 
 It makes a great difference to the hounded general 
 whether they are friends or enemies. He looks anx- 
 iously in the direction pointed out by his aide and 
 orders him to reconnoiter the uncertain column. The 
 officer rides forward to a point where he can get a good 
 view, draws rein, dismounts, and climbing a fence 
 brings a field-glass to bear on the advancing troops. 
 They are far from him; they are covered with dust, 
 and their flags are furled, so that he cannot tell whether 
 they are blue or gray. If they are gray, that means 
 destruction for the troops defending themselves in the 
 horse-shoe. If they are blue, they may serve as a for- 
 lorn hope on the ridge commanding the Union right. 
 
 The aide not only sees these troops, but the troops 
 see the aide. They too wonder if he is blue or gray. 
 Neither can tell, but from his position they suspect him 
 to wear blue. At any rate, they assume that he does. 
 
 Suddenly every flag is unfurled displaying the stars 
 and stripes. 
 
 Enough' Mounting his horse the aide rides over 
 the ground between him and the head of the advanc- 
 ing column. 
 
 "Who are these troops?" 
 
 "The first divison of the Reserve Corps." 
 
 Posted at the opening of the struggle to guard a 
 bridge across the Chickamauga, on the extreme north 
 of the battlefield, with orders to hold it at all hazards, 
 this division had for two days listened to the sounds of 
 fighting without firing a shot. The Confederates had 
 made a crossing without using the bridge watched, and 
 the division was a useless guard. On Sunday morn- 
 
CHICKAMA UGA. 249 
 
 ing its commander, chafing at inaction, yet dreading 
 the consequences that might occur the blame attend- 
 ing a disobedience of orders, determined to burn the 
 bridge and march to the relief of comrades whom he 
 divined were being hard pressed. Gathering his prin- 
 cipal officers in a church near by, he announced to them 
 what he proposed to do. The little church, unused at 
 that hour of that holy day to anything more vigorous 
 than a minister pounding the pulpit or the strains of 
 Old Hundred, rang with the assenting acclamations of 
 soldiers. 
 
 Marching through fields of yellow corn, guided only 
 by the distant but continuous roar, the division each 
 moment lessened the distance between it and the army 
 whose fate hung on its quick coming. The direction 
 taken led them toward the north side of the "horse- 
 shoe," and the rear of the Confederates. First a small 
 body of Confederate cavalry, guarding a hospital, were 
 met. These were easily scattered, and the column 
 moved on. Striking the Chattanooga road the division 
 marched on down it. There were heights to the east, 
 and on these were guns. It was plain to the gunners 
 that the advancing column was a rescuing column. 
 They opened fire to delay it. The Union troops did 
 not heed them ; there was a more important enemy, a 
 more important work further on. 
 
 But they were marching directly in rear of the Con- 
 federate line. Filing to the right, through an orchard 
 and open fields beyond, they came to a point where 
 the dim outline of the troops engaged could be seen 
 through the overhanging clouds of smoke. The Re- 
 serve halted in a field between the two bent flanks—^ 
 jhe two heels of the "horse-shoe." 
 
XXVI. 
 
 STORMING THE RIDGE. 
 
 MARK MAYNARD was standing holding Madge 
 by the bridle, surveying the battlefield. He heard 
 a gun fired from the crest of the ridge so important to 
 both armies. He turned and saw the shell it sent, 
 whirl in a spiral, screeching above the heads of two 
 officers, evidently of high rank, standing in a field near 
 the center of the "horse-shoe." One of them, a large, 
 massive man, he recognized as General Thomas. The 
 other was the commander of the newly arrived division. 
 As Maynard looked the latter rode away. He was 
 going with orders to retake the ridge. 
 
 Maynard had not seen General Thomas for months. 
 Indeed he had met him but a few times since the 
 days when he was the general's favorite scout. Re- 
 membering his disgrace he was about to go away, not 
 caring, in his altered condition, to meet the man for 
 whom of all the army he felt the greatest reverence. 
 But the general turned before he could do so, and 
 looked in his direction. 
 
 It was too late to go away unobserved, and Maynard 
 felt a desire to discover if there were not something 
 after all in this great soldier so great that he could 
 afford to give him a kind word. He walked toward 
 the spot where the general stood. 
 
 "What are you doing here, my man?" said the com- 
 250 
 
CHICK AM A UGA . 25 1 
 
 mander of all there was left of the Army of the Cum- 
 berland, sternly, seeing the begrimed Maynard in pri- 
 vate's uniform and not recognizing him. "Why are 
 you not with your regiment?" 
 
 "I have no regiment, general." 
 
 "Your troop, then." 
 
 "I have no troop. I am not a soldier." 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "Mark Malone." 
 
 The sternness on the general's face slightly relaxed. 
 
 "Ah, Colonel Maynard. Pardon me. I did not 
 recognize you." 
 
 "No, general. I was Co] or) e\ Maynard; I am now 
 a private citizen. I would be glad to assume my old 
 scouting name, Mark Malone." 
 
 "I heard of your — misfortune. I regretted it 
 doubly, remembering your services when you were 
 scouting." 
 
 "Yes, general ; then my services had some value. I 
 was fitted for a scout, a spy. You thought I was fitted 
 for something better and advanced me. I was vain 
 enough to think you right. I did not know myself. 
 As a spy I needed no conscience; I was not subservi- 
 ent to any principle. When, as a brigade commander, 
 I was obliged to choose on higher ground, I failed, in 
 the choice. I have proven myself unworthy of your 
 confidence. I have sunk to the level from which I 
 started." 
 
 The general did not reply; he was watching the 
 newly arrived division getting into position. 
 
 "You connived at the escape of a spy, I thinkj''' 
 he said presently. 
 
252 CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 "Worse. T assisted in that escape." 
 
 "A woman: was she not?" 
 
 "She was, general." 
 
 "H'm. It isn't a pleasant task to shoot a woman. 
 Yet a soldier must do his duty." 
 
 Maynard did not reply. 
 
 "Colonel, there is going to be a weak spot there. 1 
 would like you to go and see that that gap is closed. 
 My staff are all away, as you see, on some duty. Ah! 
 Never mind. They are marching by the flank, I see. 
 Now it's all right." 
 
 He was so intent upon the forming of the line that 
 for a moment Maynard thought he had forgotten his 
 presence. 
 
 "Who was this woman?" the general asked, pres- 
 ently. 
 
 "You remember when I went to Chattanooga to 
 bring you information of Bragg's movements to Ken- 
 tucky, I met a Confederate officer — a Captain Fitz 
 Hugh, who twice gave me my life?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I remember. They're standing well 
 down there in the center, and with so little ammuni- 
 tion. They'll get their new cartridges presently from 
 those brought by the reserve division. The ammuni- 
 tion comes as opportunely as the men." 
 
 "They're making a good fight everywhere," ob^ 
 served Maynard. 
 
 "Let me see ; you say you were called upon to shoot 
 a woman. She was some relative to this Captain " 
 
 "Now Colonel Fitz Hugh. A sister." 
 
 "That made it pretty hard for you, colonel. But a 
 soldier must do his duty," 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 253 
 
 "Have the Confederates possession of that ridge, 
 General?" 
 
 "They have." 
 
 "And are our men going to retake it?" 
 
 "They're going to try." 
 
 Maynard swept his eye over the position. 
 
 "They f/iusi take it." 
 
 The general shot a quick glance at the degraded 
 officer. 
 
 "You think it important?" 
 
 "The fate of this part of an army — it can't be 
 called a whole one — depends upon it." 
 
 "You are right, Colonel. We must take that ridge, 
 or before nightfall be flying over this field like the right 
 and center; or what is worse, be captured. Thisisnot 
 the first time I have observed that your eye is made 
 for war. ' ' 
 
 Maynard had become so engrossed that he did not 
 hear; he almost forgot his chief's presence. 
 
 "I haven't a command to lead up that hill, but I 
 have arms to carry a musket. I'll go in the ranks 
 where I've been since the fight began," and he 
 started in the direction of the Reserve. 
 
 "Stay, Colonel," called the general. 
 
 Maynard turned and walked back to where the 
 general was standing. He waited for him to speak 
 further; but he did not. Minutes passed, while May- 
 nard watched the absorbed commander, who in turn 
 was watching the line forming below. 
 
 "Colonel Maynard," he said at last, "do you see 
 that regiment down there? It seems to be short of 
 officers. So far as I can judge from its movements no 
 
254 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 one is in command. I shall have to make an infantry- 
 man of you, though you are of the cavalry. Go and 
 lead that regiment in the attack about to be made on 
 the ridge." 
 
 "But, general " 
 
 "There is no time for buts, sir." 
 
 "1 am a civilian, with no right to command." 
 
 "You are in the service till the finding of the court 
 that condemned you has been approved. ' ' Then to an 
 aide, who rode up at the moment: "Captain, go with 
 Colonel Maynard and place him in command of that 
 regiment, " pointing. "And let there be no mistake. 
 If the order is questioned say that the exigencies of a 
 critical moment demand that it be obeyed." 
 
 Maynard tried to speak the grateful words that rose 
 to his lips, but either he could not, or he saw that the 
 general's eye had caught a new point of danger, and 
 was absorbed in it. Mounting Madge he rode away 
 with the staff officer. 
 
 There was wonder on the faces of the men who saw 
 a new commander in the uniform of a private of cav- 
 alry put temporarily in place to lead them. For a mo- 
 ment a murmur ran along the line, but some one recog- 
 nized him — one who knew his mettle — and word was 
 passed: "It's the cavalryman. Colonel Maynard." 
 
 None cared, at that critical moment, for his recent 
 trial, so long as there was one at their head who could 
 lead them in what they all saw must be a desperate 
 effort. 
 
 Amid the incessant thunders that burst everywhere 
 around the line of that horse-shoe curve of battle is one 
 place where there is no firing. It is at the ridge, where 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 255 
 
 men are forming at its base for a desperate attempt, 
 and on its top others are preparing to receive them 
 with lead enough to teach them the futility of so pre- 
 sumptuous a move. 
 
 All is ready. The line is formed. Seventy-five 
 hundred men are about to push toward the realms of 
 death, and a larger proportion of them are to enter 
 there. At the word ' 'forward ! " the skirmishers move 
 out into the thicket that covers the side of the disputed 
 ridge, followed by the regular battle line, all climbing 
 the hill together. 
 
 Glance the eye along the line. There is the officer, 
 his mind intent on keeping his men up to the trying 
 work before them; the officer intent in keeping himself 
 steady before the eyes of the line he leads. There are 
 the faces in the ranks, most of them, if not all, stamped 
 with a serious cast, a dread under control, with the 
 thought of each that in a few minutes he may be lying, 
 pierced by a bullet or maimed by a shell. A few there 
 are whose remarkable physical nerve, or in whom a 
 natural excitable temperament, gives them an appear- 
 ance of exhilaration ; but such are often the most 
 depressed just before they are well in the fight. 
 
 While the line of blue climbs the side of the ridge, 
 all is quiet above; a quiet that brings a suspense 
 harder to bear than a scattering fire. It promises a 
 tempest when it comes. And it comes soon. From a 
 concealed line, near the top, suddenly there is a myriad 
 of explosions. Every missile known to war is sent 
 down to stagger that blue line. The first crop of 
 human flesh lies under the reaper. 
 
 There was pandemonium on that hillside for forty 
 
2 5 6 CfllCKA MA UGA . 
 
 minutes. It was an eventful fight for many a man, not 
 considering those who were laid low by missiles of war. 
 There were a few whose place it was to lead, in whom 
 a constitutional inability rendered it impossible for 
 them to face such a storm. They were ordered back; 
 their places filled by those made of sterner stuff. 
 There were soldiers in the ranks who skulked, but their 
 officers drove them on. The main force of that reserve 
 division of Union troops showed a united strength of 
 purpose, which, if it could be transferred to a different 
 field, a field of moral heroism, would make an army 
 of gods. 
 
 Mark Maynard climbed Avith the rest. For a mo- 
 ment when that storm burst, the instincts of a human 
 being, acting upon him suddenly, made him recoil. A 
 number of quick recollections flashed before him : his 
 position; the chance given him to redeem the past, the 
 consciousness that men looked to him for strength in 
 that trying moment. They were all as nothing com- 
 pared with one other; one which prevented any further 
 giving back. It was not a desire for death; that was 
 too near. It was not a desire tc show prowess at a 
 moment when men were either quailing or making 
 records as heroes. At that terrible moment there 
 came before him, a picture so sweet, so innocent, that 
 one may well wonder how it could have appeared amid 
 such frightful scenes. It was the photograph of his 
 wife and boy. With it flashed the thought: "All for 
 them; for myself, nothing." 
 
 Whether he needed this to nerve him to do his 
 duty, certain it is that from this moment he forgot 
 danger. One idea absorbed his entire being; that 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 2^7 
 
 whether he lived or died word should go back to those 
 he loved better than himself, that he was at least not 
 among the flinchers. Once this idea possessed him, 
 he was a machine — a cog moving three hundred 
 wheels. He knew nothing of the deafening sounds; 
 he was oblivious to bullets or shells. Like the picture 
 of the Sistine Madonna, was ever present the gentle 
 face and figure of a woman holdmg up a child. 
 Mother and child, in the famous painting, have for 
 centuries stood forth a divine light to lead the world 
 from sin; mother and child, in the eyes of Mark 
 Maynard, were a divine light to lead him out of the 
 deptlis into which he had fallen by a violation of prin- 
 ciple. 
 
 The time of probation was short, but not too short 
 for Maynard's bearing to have its effect. Among the 
 few who held the men together, during that brief strug- 
 gle for the life of the army, he took an important part. 
 The ridge was won, and one of the first regiments on 
 it was that commanded by Colonel Mark Maynard. 
 
 The ridge was not only won; it was held. But who 
 can depict the holding? It was by a repetition of 
 struggles like the one that took it, only the gray 
 attacked, while the blue defended. Eight times the 
 Confederates charged and eight times they were driven 
 back. Night came; there was no light whereby to 
 make another. The ridge was in Union keeping; 
 the Army of the Cumberland was saved. 
 
 Relinquishing his command Maynard rode through 
 twenty-five hundred dead and wounded of the seventy- 
 five hundred men who climbed the hillside a few hours 
 before, to General Thomas' headquarters. 
 
:2 5 ^ CHIC ft A MA UGA . 
 
 "Have you any further commands, General?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Ah, Colonel Maynard. Let me thank you, among 
 others, for your work. You men over there have saved 
 us. I want you to go back to the cavalry and com- 
 mand one of several forces intended to cover our re- 
 treat. We must get back to-night to a safer position." 
 
 "I await your orders, General." 
 
 "Colonel," added the general, turning upon him a 
 kindly, approving eye, "there are a number to be 
 rewarded for to-day's work; among them yourself. 
 If we get safely out of this, I shall make a suitable 
 acknowledgment of your services." 
 
XXVII. 
 
 AN IMPORTANT LETTER. 
 
 '"pHE battle of Chickamauga is over. The Army 
 1 of the Cumberland has withdrawn to Chatta- 
 nooga, safe for the present, at least, behind breast- 
 works. Their enemies are looking down upon them 
 from the heights that encircle the town, waiting for 
 them to fall an easy prey through starvation. Colo- 
 nel Maynard is awaiting the result of army red-tape 
 in the matter of his court-martial. The papers in the 
 case were lost in the rout of the right, and were for- 
 gotten in his efforts to save the left. At any rate, no one 
 seemed to care anything about them. The ups and 
 downs in military life are rapid, and since the eclat 
 attending his gallant services on the ridge, his com- 
 rades were disposed to look upon his sacrifice of him- 
 self for another as rather a heroic act, after all, quite 
 in accord with his peculiar personality. 
 
 One day — it was perhaps a week after the retreat of 
 the Army of the Cumberland — Maynard was sitting in 
 his tent with Jakey and the girl found on the battle- 
 field. Jakey had turned up in due time and renewed 
 his services with the deposed colonel. True, that 
 colonel's position was somewhat anomalous. He was 
 in no great need of an orderly, but was disposed to 
 avail himself of Jakey's friendship. He had neither 
 seen nor communicated with his wife, feeling a disin- 
 
 259 
 
^^o CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 clination to do so until something definite should 
 occur to establish his future status with the army. 
 Jakey therefore continued to be the only friend " pres- 
 ent for duty." 
 
 " You say," said Maynard to Jakey, on the occasion 
 mentioned, " that you left her at the house to which I 
 told you to take her, and took a hand in the fight." 
 
 " Reckon." 
 
 "Where did you get anything to fight with ? " 
 
 " Dead sojer. Tuk his gun 'n cartridges." 
 
 " Upon my word ! I wonder the enemy stood 
 against such a reinforcement." 
 
 " Wal, I shot one of 'em, anyway. We was tuk by 
 lots more 'n we 'uns, 'n was runnen. Suddcnt I 
 hearn a man say, ' Stop, thar, y' little Yankee rascal ! ' 
 1 turned roun' 'n sor a ossifer on horseback. He 
 called on me fo' ter surrender, 'n I up en shot him."* 
 
 " You don't mean it ? " 
 
 " Reckon." 
 
 "Then what did you do ? " 
 
 " Wal, tother uns, they went on 'n I skedaddled." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Then I went back t' the house 'n found Jennie, 
 'n by that time 't was gitten dark, 'n the army com- 
 menced t' retreat. We 'uns retreated with the rest on 
 em." 
 
 " On foot ? " 
 
 " Yas, part o' the way. Jennie, she got tired, so we 
 sat down by ther road till some cavalry [Jakey had 
 learned not to call them critter companies] came along 
 
 * An incident similar to this occurred at Chickamauga. A boy 
 of twelve years shot a Confederate officer, and was made a sergeant. 
 
CHICK A MA UCA . 261 
 
 after the infantry bed all passed. One on em said, 
 ' Ef that haint Colonel Maynard's orderly.' * 'N 
 with a little gal,' said another. Then the fust on em 
 tuk me on behind him 'n tother un tuk Jennie on 
 before him, 'n we 'uns all covered the retreat." 
 
 " A valuable acquisition to the rear-guard," ob- 
 served Maynard, and he began to question the little 
 girl. He discovered that she was the daughter of a 
 farmer living on the battlefield, who had neglected to 
 remove his family till the last minute. Caught in the 
 midst of a fight, all became panicstricken, and the 
 child was separated from the rest. 
 
 While he was gaining this information an orderly 
 came to his tent and showed him a letter post-marked 
 County Cavan, Ireland, and addressed to the man who 
 had assisted in the escape of Caroline Fitz Hugh. 
 But there were features of the address which led 
 Maynard to doubt if it was not for some other Ratigan. 
 
 " Where did you get this ?" he asked. 
 
 " It came in with the mail. It's been lying un- 
 claimed for several days, as no one knows who it is 
 for. There was a Ratigan in the — th Cavalry, but 
 he is among the missing. The letter was taken to 
 the headquarters of that regiment, and Colonel 
 Burke suggested that you might know something 
 about the man." 
 
 "Ah, yes," said Maynard, sadly. "You can tell 
 Colonel Burke that I saw Ratigan killed. But this 
 reminds me," he added. " I must see if I can regain 
 his body." Then to the orderly : " I wish you would 
 say to Major Burke that if he will give me an escort 
 I'll go out under flag of truce and see if I can find out 
 
262 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 anything about Corporal Ratigan, whom I saw fall 
 from his horse in the enemy's lines. Ask him to 
 make out a request for permission to send out the 
 flag, forward it, and let me know the result." 
 
 The result was a permission to send out " the flag," 
 and the next morning, after an early breakfast. Colonel 
 Maynard, accompanied by Jakey and the little girl, 
 whom Maynard hoped to restore to her parents, each 
 mounted, and all attended by a lieutenant and twenty 
 men, set out from Chattanooga toward Mission 
 Ridge. They met the enemy's pickets at the base of 
 the ridge, and were conducted to Rossville. Colonel 
 Maynard at once requested that he might be accorded 
 an interview with Colonel Fitz Hugh, if that officer 
 survived the battle. A messenger was sent to sum- 
 mon him, and as he had some miles to go, "■ the flag" 
 party dismounted, were taken into a house, where they 
 awaited the officer's arrival. Every attention was 
 shown them, and they were made as comfortable as 
 possible. Two hours after the departure of the cou- 
 rier, Colonel Fitz Hugh rode up to the door. 
 
 There was always a certain embarrassment between 
 these two men, which under the circumstances was 
 quite natural, but which was heightened by the ha- 
 bitual dignity with which Fitz Hugh bore himself. 
 There was much to force them apart, and much to 
 draw them together, but it all resulted in constraint. 
 Fitz Hugh lifted his hat to Maynard, then advanced, 
 and put out his hand. Neither seemed to think of 
 appropriate words of greeting, and there was a few 
 moments of silence, which was broken by Maynard 
 referring to his mission. 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 263 
 
 " Colonel," he said, " I am the bearer of a letter for 
 Corporal Ratigan — though the superscription gives a 
 different title than corporal — the man who assisted me 
 on the mission which you doubtless well remember. 
 I saw Ratigan fall from his horse and suppose that he 
 is dead. Am I right ? " 
 
 " No, sir. Corporal Ratigan lives. He was severely 
 wounded by a shot from your men. He managed to 
 keep his saddle till his work was accomplished, when 
 he fainted through loss of blood. For a time his life 
 hung in the balance. We now hope for his recovery." 
 
 " I am rejoiced to hear it. Perhaps this letter is 
 for him. Will you attend to its delivery ? " 
 
 " If you will ride with me to Ringold, where he lies, 
 you can deliver it in person." 
 
 " That would indeed be a pleasure. Can you get 
 permission to take me so far within your lines ? " 
 
 " I can try." 
 
 '' In that case I may look, by the way, for the home 
 of this little girl. I rescued her from the battlefield, 
 where she was lest." 
 
 A request was sent up to headquarters for permis- 
 sion to take Colonel Maynard and two children to 
 Ringold and to visit the recent field of battle by the 
 way. While the party were waiting for a reply May- 
 nard was introduced to a number of Confederate offi- 
 cers, and the story getting round that he had saved 
 the life of a Confederate emissary — the sister of 
 Colonel Fitz Hugh — he soon found himself an object 
 of interest. There was little disposition to inquire 
 into the right or wrong of his act ; the service was 
 quite sufficient, and the deposed colonel was as highly 
 
2^4 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 honored among the Confederates as he had been con- 
 demned by his comrades. 
 
 Permission came for Colonel Fitz Hugh to take the 
 party forward, leaving the escort at Rossville and tak- 
 ing Colonel Maynard's parole not to divulge anything 
 he might see to the Union commanders ; a useless 
 provision, for there was nothing of importance by the 
 way for him to see. 
 
 It was a singular party that crisp October morning, 
 cantering down the Chattanooga and Lafayette road — 
 the recent bone of contention — toward the now de- 
 serted battlefield. Maynard and Fitz Hugh rode 
 together at the front. Then came Jakey and Jennie, 
 both mounted like the rest, while a troop of Confeder- 
 ate cavalry formed the escort. The two colonels 
 talked on everything except what was uppermost in 
 their minds. Fitz Hugh several times attempted to 
 guide the conversation upon Maynard's service to his 
 sister in order that he might make a proper acknowl- 
 edgment, but Maynard, foreseeing his intention, always 
 made some remark by way of thwarting him. 
 
 " There are the heights from which you shelled the 
 reserve marching to our relief," said Maynard, glanc- 
 ing to the left. 
 
 " And here our men found themselves near this 
 coveted road, over which we are passing, when 
 the fog lifted on Sunday morning," replied the 
 other. 
 
 " Now we come to the * horse-shoe' ridge. Let us 
 ride around its base. From what the little girl has 
 told me I fancy she lives on the road leading to 
 Reed's Bridge." 
 
CHICKAMA UGA. 265 
 
 " My pop lives down thar," said the child, pointing 
 to a cabin a mile below them. 
 
 Leaving the Chattanooga road they followed another 
 leading around the ridge, soon striking a third lead- 
 ing to Reed's Bridge. When they came fo the house 
 pointed out by Jennie, a man was sitting on the fence 
 — or one section of it which happened not to have 
 been taken for fire-wood like the rest — whittling a 
 stick. Catching sight of the child, as the party rode 
 up, he went to her, and taking her in his arms, covered 
 her with kisses. The mother, hearing the exclama- 
 tions, rushed out and repeated the father's caresses. 
 
 The parents expressed as well as they were able, 
 and in their humble way, their thanks to the rescuer 
 of their child, and the party proceeded on their 
 way. 
 
 " Good-by, Jennie," said her friend Jakey as he 
 rode off. 
 
 " Good-by." 
 
 *' Ef y'll write me a letter, I'll make y' a doll outen 
 a corn-cob. I know how ter make 'm." 
 
 " I can't write." 
 
 " Wal, I'll do 't anyhow. Yer a purty nice young 'un 
 ef y' air only a gal." 
 
 Riding over Reed's Bridge the party passed through 
 the gap in the ridge beyond, and descending the east 
 slope, soon struck a road leading to Ringold. They 
 rode into the town about noon, and soon drew rein 
 before the house where Corporal Ratigan lay wounded. 
 Fitz Hugh and Maynard dismounted and entered 
 together, Jakey britigingup the rear. In the hallway, 
 her eyes large with astonishment at seeing her 
 
2 66 CHICK AM A UGA . 
 
 brother in company with Colonel Maynard, stood 
 Caroline Fitz Hugh. 
 
 If the brother had failed in expressing his thanks 
 to Maynard the sister succeeded, but not by words. 
 She grasped Maynard's hand, when suddenly, for the 
 first time since her escape, a full realizing sense of the 
 terrible end she had so narrowly escaped swept over 
 her. She was looking her gratitude, with all the in- 
 tensity of her expressive eyes, when her formal brother 
 said : 
 
 " Caroline, Colonel Maynard suffered disgrace on 
 your account. It is proper you should know how 
 much we owe him." 
 
 This information was too much for even the strong 
 nature of so resolute a woman. She burst into a pas- 
 sionate flood of tears. 
 
 " For the first time since it occurred," said May- 
 nard gently, " I am satisfied with my act. What is 
 the opinion of men to me beside the consciousness of 
 having served so admirable a woman." 
 
 Fitz Hugh threw open a door near by, and led the 
 way through it into a room where Corporal Ratigan, 
 his ruddy locks contrasting with his pale face and the 
 whiteness of his pillow, looked at them with the same 
 astonishment as Miss Fitz Hugh. 
 
 " Why, Colonel," he exclaimed, " are ye a pris- 
 oner ? " 
 
 " No. I came by the courtesy of Colonel Fitz Hugh 
 to deliver this letter, which I think is for you. Are 
 you Hugh Ratigan ? " 
 
 " Oi am." 
 
 •'Sir Hugh Ratigan ?" 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 267 
 
 " No ; me father was Sir Thomas Ratigan, of 
 County Cavan, Ireland." 
 
 " Perhaps there have been changes," and Maynard 
 handed him the letter. 
 
 The corporal took it and looked first at the black 
 seal, and then at the handwriting, which he recognized 
 at once as his mother's, and read, " To Sir Hugh Rat- 
 igan, United States Army, Tennessee, U. S. A." 
 
 " Me brother is dead," he said solemnly, and then 
 tore open the envelope. 
 
 The letter advised him, as he supposed, of the 
 death of his older brother, and as the title and es- 
 tates of the family descended to him, he was adjured 
 to go home and attend to his affairs. 
 
 " Is it as we supposed ?" asked Maynard. 
 
 " It is. Oi'm Sir Hugh true enough ; me brother, 
 God rest 'em, is gone." 
 
 " We sympathize with you at your brother's death, 
 and rejoice with you at your own inheritance," said 
 Fitz Hugh. 
 
 All in turn took the corporal by the hand. 
 
 " You must go home at once," said Maynard. 
 
 " How will Oi go home when Oi'm enlisted for 
 three years or during the war ? " 
 
 " We'll have to get you out of that," said Maynard. 
 "Your duties are more important in Ireland, than as 
 a corporal in our service. We have more than a 
 plenty of men." 
 
 " I wish we could say the same," observed Colonel 
 Fitz Hugh. 
 
 The visiting party, expecting to return that after- 
 noon, had but little time to converse upon anything ex- 
 
2 68 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 cept, Sir Hugh Ratigan's future, and this they con- 
 sidered fully. It was arranged that as soon as the 
 baronet should be able to travel he was to go through 
 the lines, apply for a discharge and go to Ireland. Col- 
 onel Fitz Hugh anticipated no difficulty in securing 
 his permission to depart from the Confederacy, and as 
 he was a British subject of rank it was not expected 
 that he would be held to a strict accountability 
 for the part he had taken in the escape of Caroline 
 Fitz Hugh ; especially as that act had been largely 
 lost sight of in an event of greater moment — the battle 
 of Chickamauga. These matters once settled the 
 party moved toward the door, where adieus were 
 spoken ; then mounted and rode away. 
 
XXVIII. 
 
 THE CHOICE OF A POST. 
 
 CAROLINE FITZ HUGH had watched over 
 Corporal Ratigaa every day since his wounding, 
 and by careful nursing had doubtless saved his life. 
 It was not for the corporal to fall in love with his nurse, 
 for he had loved her ever since the day he first met 
 her. When the visiting party had left the house 
 she went back to her charge, and after a few words of 
 sympathy at the loss of his brother, putting out her 
 hand frankly, and with a smile : 
 
 "Arise, Sir Hugh," she said. "You have been on 
 your back lung enough. You must get used to sitting 
 up and pre|)aretogo to Ireland and to administer your 
 estate." 
 
 " Darlin'," he said, looking up at her wistfully. 
 
 " It's time you were breaking yourself of calling me 
 that ; you must forget the Confederate ' telegraph 
 worker,' go home and marry one of the daughters of 
 the neighboring gentry and settle down to become 
 'a fine old Irish gentleman, one of the rare old 
 stock.' " 
 
 " That's a fine picture ye'r maken for me ; and 
 what'll ye be doing meantime?" 
 
 " Working for my country." 
 
 " And haven't ye promised ye would do no more 
 telegraph working ? " 
 
2 7© CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 ' Oh, that duty has come to an abrii[-)t termination. 
 I shall never attempt it ayain. How could 1, after 
 the sacrifice you and Colonel Maynard have made 
 for me ; besides, if seen within the Federal lines I 
 should be recognized, and 1 would then deserve my 
 fate." 
 
 " And what d'ye mean by worken for ye'r country? 
 What dy'e call ye'r country? " 
 
 " The South ; the Confederate States of America." 
 
 " It'll not be separated from the rest." 
 
 " Do you really think that Ra — I mean Sir 
 Hugh ? " 
 
 " 1 do." 
 
 " Do you doubt the bravery, the resolution of our 
 men ? " she flushed, almost angrily. 
 
 " Tut, darlin' ; that has nothing to do with it. Ye' 
 haven't more than a third the people of ye'r enemy, 
 and of that third a third are black and no use to ye' — 
 only an encumbrance. Ye'r seaports are blockaded 
 and ye' have no manufactures. Ye'r grain-raising 
 territory is swept by enemies and it is useless for ye' 
 to plant crops since the enemy is as likely to gather 
 them as ye'rselves. Besides all this ye'r principles 
 are badly mixed ; ye' say ye'r fighting for ye'r inde- 
 pendence, ye'r liberty ; and the reason for that is 
 that ye' may more firmly fasten the yoke on the 
 black." 
 
 " Rats," she said earnestly, " if you were a Yankee 
 I would not listen to you a moment. But as a native 
 of another land I confess your words impress me. 
 Indeed in my heart of hearts I have often thought as 
 you think ; not about our lack of resources and all 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 271 
 
 that, but I doubt the success of a cause in which our 
 inheritance of negro slavery forms so large a part." 
 
 " Ye'd better abandon it." 
 
 " Never, so long as it is a cause ; so long a-s my 
 brothers continue the struggle I will be with them." 
 
 " Then so long as the Union Army is fighten' ye' 
 Oi'll be in its ranks." 
 
 " You'll do no such thing. You will go home, where 
 your presence is more needed ; to your mother, to 
 your tenants. Ireland needs all her land-owners, such 
 as you, at home. That is your country ; you have no 
 interest here." 
 
 " And the United States is your country ; you have 
 no other." 
 
 " Rats ! " 
 
 " Darlin'." 
 
 There was a silence between them for some 
 moments. Ratigan laid his hand on hers while she 
 was looking, with a pained expression, out of the win- 
 dow. In her eyes was a far look. Her companion 
 had strengthened certain doubts which had at times 
 come up to trouble her, as to the ultimate success, the 
 real motives which underlay her cause ; and with her 
 intense, devoted nature, had led her to feel that all 
 this vast effort put forth by her people might in the 
 end avail nothing, or would only, if successful, per- 
 petuate a wrong. Her lover saw her troubled expres- 
 sion. He did not attempt to comfort her by recalling 
 what he had said : he pushed on further. 
 
 "Darlin," he said. " Ye're right when ye say 
 Oi'm needed in Oirland, Go with me, darlin'. Be 
 me wife. Let all this intense effort, this sacrifice 
 
2 72 CHICK A MA VGA . 
 
 ye're putting into a cause, which I foresee is doomed, 
 be given to me tenants. The estate is a large one, 
 and there are hundreds of people for ye to befriend. 
 There ye can work to a purpose. There ye'r ef- 
 forts in behalf of a really down-trodden people will be 
 for good." 
 
 "And leave my brothers in the midst of this horrid 
 struggle ? I will stay here till the last gun is fired, 
 till the last blow of the hammer has riveted our 
 chains." 
 
 " Chains ? " 
 
 *' Yes, chains. Will they not govern us, if they con- 
 quer us, as subject provinces ? " 
 
 " Republicans can't hold subject provinces, darlin'. 
 They'd have to become a monarchy to do that, and go 
 back a hundred years." 
 
 " Rats," she exclaimed, in admiration of the depth 
 of his reasoning, the plain, common-sense way he had 
 of putting the case. " You must go back and stand 
 for parliament ; you're a natural statesman." 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Why never? " 
 
 " The chains." 
 
 His hand was on hers; and an arm was stealing around 
 her waist, as she stood beside him. There was a cer- 
 tain breaking, a yielding in her words, which he had 
 never noticed there before, as she said : 
 
 " What chains. Rats ? " 
 
 "The real chains ye flung around me when ye 
 stood in yer old rattlen buggy and chaffed me, the 
 chains that were tightened when I captured ye, the 
 chains that have held me to ye ever since, that bind 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 273 
 
 me to ye now, that will keep me in America so long as 
 you are in America." 
 
 There was a silence in which her face showed 
 plainly she was turning over what he had said in her 
 mind. But it did not last long. She was used to 
 thinking quickly. 
 
 " Rats," she said, "granting all you have said is 
 true : granting that we are embarked in an error ; 
 I can never leave our people, right or wrong, until the 
 struggle is ended one way or the other." 
 
 " I can understand ye'r feelings, but it is wrong to 
 indulge them." 
 
 " Why so >. " Again the troubled look. 
 
 "By working in the cause of error, error is fos- 
 tered. If ye think ye'r field lies here, choose the 
 right cause ; devote ye'rself to the ignorant black ; 
 teach him ; encourage him ; befriend him ; help him. 
 Work upon your people with all the magnetic influ- 
 ence you possess to make him a free man instead of a 
 chattel." 
 
 " Become an abolitionist? " She seemed thunder- 
 struck at the audacity of the proposition. 
 
 " We're all abolitionists on the other side of the 
 ocean. Ye'r two hundred years behind the age." 
 
 There was another pause, while Miss Fitz Hugh 
 thought. Born and bred in the South, she had never 
 seen except with Southern eyes. Here was a man 
 who was giving her views never before open to her. 
 She had a mind capable of grasping them, and saw the 
 strength, the solid sense, beneath them when properly 
 presented. 
 
 " Darlin'," the young baronet added, by way of 
 
2 74 CHICK A M^ UGA . 
 
 closing the argument, "the world moves on quickly. 
 If ye'r people succeed in this war, in less than a quar- 
 ter of a century ye'll either free ye'r slaves or be a 
 blot on the face of the earth." 
 
 " Oh, Rats," she exclaimed, " why did I ever meet 
 you ? You've sapped the strength I possessed for my 
 work. I can never again do my duty as I have done 
 it thus far." 
 
 " Darlin'," he said, drawing her nearer to him, " Oi'll 
 replace what Oi've taken. Oi'll give ye other duties ; 
 the duties that belong to the mistress of a fine estate, 
 the duties of a woman of high degree in a country 
 where birth is respected far more than here. With 
 your vigor, your strong impulses " 
 
 " Guided by your more steady light." 
 
 " Ye may become one of the most influential women 
 in the three kingdoms." 
 
 In her eyes came that humorous twinkle he had 
 once seen before, when she stood in her buggy in the 
 road up in Tennessee and tantalized him for his stupid- 
 ity in having been duped by her. 
 
 '* It would be nice to be " 
 
 " To be what, darlin' ?" 
 
 " Lady Rats," and she hid her blushes in the pillow 
 on which his head rested. 
 
XXIX. 
 
 PUNISHMENT AND REWARD, 
 
 THE sun setting over Lookout Mountain shone 
 directly in the faces of Maynard and his party 
 as, returning from Ringold, they rode into Chatta- 
 nooga. It was a glorious October evening, and the 
 heights towering above them, covered by unseen Con- 
 federates, reposed about the town like huge lions 
 watching a wounded animal, confident that at last it 
 must fall into their power. 
 
 Dismounting before his tent, Maynard entered it, 
 and there found a letter from his wife. She begged 
 him to come to her if it were possible, and if not, to 
 write to her. He read and re-read the letter again and 
 again, and then made an attempt at a reply. After 
 writing half a dozen, all of which he tore up, he aban- 
 doned the task in despair. His position was too un- 
 certain. The sentence of the court-martial hung 
 over him like a sullen cloud. What could he say to 
 her to comfort her ? He well knew that the only 
 comforting she needed was to know that he was not 
 miserable ; and of that he could not assure her. 
 
 And so matters hung for a week. Having no duties 
 to perform the time passed all the more slowly. The 
 Confederates were sending occasional shells from 
 Lookout Mountain, and as they were harmless the re- 
 ports were something of a relief to Maynard, breaking 
 
 375 
 
276 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 the monotony of the silence. He spent much of the 
 time thinking of what he would do in case the 
 sentence of the court were approved and carried into 
 effect. He formed many plans, which were all 
 abandoned. At last he settled down to the resolve 
 that he would go to the army in the East, enlist under 
 an assumed name ; and await the coming of some 
 missile to end his career, as he had intended at Chick- 
 amauga. 
 
 One morning an orderly rode up to him and handed 
 him an order to report in person at General Thomas' 
 headquarters. Calling for his horse and for his own 
 orderly, Jakey, to follow, he mounted, and in a feverish 
 mood darted away to obey the order. 
 
 What did the summons mean ? Something definite 
 in his affairs had come about ; that he felt reasonably 
 sure of. Perhaps the papers of the court in his case 
 had been found. Perhaps they had been made out in 
 duplicate. The latter supposition was the most likely. 
 His offense could not be ignored : indeed, he could 
 not afford to have it ignored. The sentence must be 
 either set aside or carried into effect. Dismissal 
 would be far more desirable than living in suspense. 
 
 All these matters rushed through his mind while he 
 rode to respond to the summons. The nearer he 
 drew to headquarters, the less hopeful he became. 
 After all, was it not absurd to expect anything except 
 that new papers had been made, the sentence for- 
 warded "approved," and he was now to be informed 
 that he was no longer in the army. General Thomas 
 could do much for him, but there was not a general 
 in the army who had a higher sense of a soldier's 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 277 
 
 obligations than he. How was it possible that so 
 great a leader, so rigid a disciplinarian, one with such 
 high conceptions, could do aught in his case but 
 approve the sentence ! And now he was sending for 
 him to inform him of his degradation. 
 
 Following this reasoning, by the time he arrived at 
 headquarters his expectations were at the lowest ebb. 
 He dismounted, and so preoccupied was he that he 
 left his horse standing without fastening her; but 
 Jakey rode forward and seized the rein. Maynard 
 gave his name to an orderly, and in a few minutes 
 stood before the man whose very presence was quite 
 sufficient to strike terror into the heart of a de- 
 linquent. 
 
 But the first face on which Maynard's eyes rested 
 was not that of the general. Another was there to 
 greet him ; one who, he knew, whether he were honored 
 or disgraced, would never love him the less. It was his 
 wife. The thought flashed through his brain : " She is 
 here to comfort me when the blow falls." He wanted 
 to fly to her embrace. The impulse was checked. 
 He saw that she burned to fly to him ; but she, too, 
 restrained herself ; for there, between them, towered 
 the figure of the general. INTaynard gave him a quick 
 glance, but could discover nothing in his countenance 
 to indicate what his fate would be. These glances, 
 these surmises, lasted but for a moment, for the gen- 
 eral spoke : 
 
 " I have sent for you to inform you of your status 
 in the army." 
 
 Maynard bowed his head and waited. 
 
 ** The offense for which you were tried," the gen- 
 
278 CHICKAMAUGA. 
 
 eral spoke slowly and impressively, " was too grievous 
 to be overlooked. It would have pleased me in the 
 case of so brave a man to set it aside ; but such a 
 course would have condoned that which, if it should 
 go unpunished, would strike at the very foundation of 
 military discipline. In liberating a spy, entrusted to 
 your care, you violated a sacred trust, and assumed 
 an authority such as is not accorded to any one, save 
 the President of the United States." 
 
 Maynard did not raise his eyes from the ground. 
 He knew what was coming, and a shiver passed over 
 him. 
 
 " A new set of papers were prepared and sent to 
 me. I forwarded them " 
 
 Maynard's eyes were almost starting from their 
 sockets. 
 
 " With my approval." 
 
 " O General ! " gasped the stricken man, catching 
 at the tent-pole for a support. Laura could with 
 difficulty keep her seat, so eager was she to fly to him. 
 
 " They have also been approved by the President, 
 and you have been dismissed from the service of the 
 United States, with forfeiture of all pay and emolu- 
 ments." 
 
 Maynard tried to speak. He wished to say that 
 he could not complain of the sentence — that, con- 
 sidering the offense, it was merciful — but his tongue 
 would not obey him. 
 
 " So much for your punishment," the general went 
 on, after a slight pause. " There are other matters, 
 however, to be considered. These are your youth, 
 the circumstances under which you were placed, the 
 
CHICK AM A UGA . 279 
 
 voluntary sacrifice of yourself made to save another, 
 and in obedience to your own interpretation of your 
 duty in repaying a sacred obligation. While these 
 considerations do not destroy the act or its pernicious 
 effect as an example, they show conclusively that it 
 did not spring from base motives, but rather in obedi- 
 ence to a strong sense of honor, which a soldier 
 should hold in highest esteem." 
 
 When the general began to speak of these palliat- 
 ing circumstances Maynard did not hear him. As he 
 proceeded, however, his attention was arrested. 
 
 " Furthermore, there are your brilliant services, 
 both as a scout, and, more recently, in the battle 
 through which we have just passed. I have taken 
 pains to learn of your services in the ranks on the 
 nineteenth of September, and was myself a witness to 
 your gallantry on the ridge on the twentieth. I can- 
 not find it in my heart to fail in my acknowledg- 
 ments to any man, however he may have erred, who 
 engaged in that desperate struggle, which was a turn- 
 ing point in our fortune, and may be said to have 
 saved us all from rout or capture. Besides, for more 
 than a year I have watched your career with interest. 
 I am sure that you are possessed of undoubted mili- 
 tary talents — perhaps of a high order. I believe it 
 to be true wisdom on the part of the government to 
 retain those talents for the country. Therefore, in 
 the interest of the United States, and for gallant and 
 meritorious conduct at the battle of Chickamauga, I 
 have suggested your name to the President for the ap- 
 pointment of Brigadier-General of Volunteers. A 
 batch of such appointments, including yours, was yes- 
 
28o CHICKAMA UGA. 
 
 terday sent to the Senate, and I have a telegram an- 
 nouncing that they were all confirmed." 
 
 Suddenly it seemed as if there had been a loosen- 
 ing of invisible cords that had been holding hus- 
 band and wife apart. In the fraction of a second 
 they were locked in each other's arms. Tears, the 
 usual mode of expression of deep feeling in woman, 
 did not come, only to the wife. Yet in a measure the 
 sexes were reversed. Laura was more smiles than 
 tears ; Maynard only wept. 
 
 Soon remembering in whose presence he stood, 
 Maynard disengaged himself. Turning to General 
 Thomas : 
 
 " General," he said, in a broken voice, " I cannot — 
 thanks are nothing — time must show how well 1 ap- 
 preciate what you have done. Is there another man 
 in the army who could afford to take so enlarged a 
 view in such a case? Is there one with so farseeing 
 an eye, so keen a sense of a soldier's duty, tempered 
 with so kind a heart ? " 
 
 Maynard paused for a moment ; then, with a sudden 
 burst of enthusiasm : 
 
 *' But wlio shall reward the man who on that terrible 
 day held together the Army of the Cumberland ? 
 Can the President bestow an adequate rank ? Would 
 the title of full 'General' avail? No! It is for 
 the people to reward you with a title, not given by 
 an individual, but by the common consent of vast 
 masses — not only for a day, but so long as there shall 
 be a history of this war — the Rock of Chicka- 
 
 MAUGA," 
 
XXX. 
 
 A SINGULAR CEREMONY. 
 
 LAURA MAYNARD, after a long period of solici- 
 tude as to her husband, — detained at home by a 
 temporary iUness of her child, — had at last found it 
 possible to go and seek him. She had arrived on the 
 morning of the news of his appointment, and at once 
 sought General Thomas's headquarters. There she 
 had been informed of the status, and a messenger was 
 at once sent for her husband. 
 
 Leaving the tent, where Maynard had first been 
 plunged in despair only to be elevated to a condition 
 of mind bordering on ecstasy, the two sought a hotel 
 where Laura could be made comfortable till the next 
 day, and there passed the time in going over the period 
 since they had parted, and rejoicing at the outcome 
 of the singular complications which Fate had been 
 pleased to bring down upon the husband. 
 
 But all meetings must have an end, and at last the 
 husband departing, rode to his tent. There he found 
 a messenger waiting for him. 
 
 " * Flag of truce ' wants to see you on the picket 
 line, sir." 
 
 Without dismounting, the newly created general 
 rode in the direction of Mission Ridge and met " the 
 flag " at its base. There stood a mounted party of 
 Confederates, one of them bearing a white flag, headed 
 
 8Sl 
 
282 CHICK AM A UGA . 
 
 by an officer — a son of the South who spoke every 
 word as though it were of momentous importance, 
 never omitting the word "sir." 
 
 " Are you Colonel Maynard, sir ? " 
 
 " I am, or at least I was. I hardly know what I am 
 just now. I should not be surprised to be informed that 
 I was to command all the armies of the United States." 
 
 The officer looked puzzled. 
 
 " I am the bearer, sir, of a message from Corporal 
 Sir Hugh Ratigan. He is to be married at seven 
 o'clock this evening at General Bragg's headquarters 
 on Mission Ridge." 
 
 " The devil he is ! " 
 
 "That is his intention, sir ; he desires your pres- 
 ence." 
 
 " Whom does he marry ? " 
 
 " Miss Caroline Fitz Hugh." 
 
 " I have been more surprised at other announce- 
 ments, I confess. I don't wonder he invites me to 
 his wedding, since I helped him to a wife." 
 
 " Shall I transmit your acceptance of the invitation, 
 sir? " 
 
 " On one condition." 
 
 " Please name it, sir." 
 
 "I fear it will be unacceptable to Colonel Fitz 
 Hugh, who will doubtless be the host or one of the 
 hosts. He will not likely yield in a matter of etiquette 
 which I must insist on." 
 
 " Colonel Fitz Hugh cannot be present, sir. He is 
 now in your rear with our cavalry completing the star- 
 vation of your army in Chattanooga, by destroying 
 your lines of supply." 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 283 
 
 "H'm. I was not aware of any hunger in our 
 ranks ; indeed, my request is, knowing that your own 
 larder in the Confederacy is not exactly abundant — 
 that the horn of plenty is not burying you like Her- 
 culaneum under the ashes of Vesuvius — that the 
 blockade " 
 
 " The blockade is not effective, sir," interrupted 
 the officer, stiffly. 
 
 "Has somewhat reduced your wine cellars, my con- 
 dition is, I say, that I may be permitted to bring half 
 a dozen cases of champagne for the wedding feast." 
 
 " I assure you, sir, that it is not necessary. We are 
 getting cargoes of wine from Havre by a regular line 
 of steamers. It is your own mess tables at Chatta- 
 nooga that are doubtless bereft of beverages, owing 
 to the fact that our General Wheeler is circus-riding 
 in Tennessee, leaving no road or railroad open to 
 you." 
 
 " Do you consent that I shall bring the wine ? " 
 
 " I do, sir, but shall claim for the host, a general 
 officer related to the bride, the privilege of supplying 
 an equal number of cases." 
 
 " Agreed. I will meet you here at six o'clock this 
 evening, when you can conduct me and my party to 
 the place where the ceremony is to take place. You 
 may say, if you please, that I shall consider the invita- 
 tion extended to my wife, whom I will bring with me." 
 
 " We shall feel highly honored, sir, at Mrs. Maynard's 
 presence. Am I to infer, sir, that your wife has been 
 able to reach you over the burnt bridges and trestle- 
 work in your rear ? " 
 
 '' She has found no difificulty whatever in joining me," 
 
284 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 Maynard failed to add that Laura had only come 
 a few miles to meet him. 
 
 " Good day, sir," said the officer, raising his hat. 
 " I shall expect you at six." 
 
 " Good day ; I will be on time." 
 
 And each rode away in the direction of their respec- 
 tive camps. 
 
 Maynard's offer of the wine had come about in this 
 wise : Jakey, during the previous week, had been in- 
 vestigating such empty houses as he could find in 
 Chattanooga and had loaded himself down with knick- 
 knacks, such as china ornaments, pictures, crockery, 
 cutlery, including even daguerreotypes. On one oc- 
 casion he thought he had discovered a box of muskets. 
 This he reported to Colonel Maynard, whom he per- 
 suaded to go with him to a cellar, near by, and make 
 a search for concealed arms. The muskets were 
 found, besides half a dozen cases of champagne, 
 which had doubtless been there since the beginning of 
 the war. 
 
 Upon leaving the picket line, Maynard rode to ibe 
 house where he had seen the wine, and secured it for 
 the evening, placing a guard over it. Then he went 
 to the hotel and bade Laura get ready to attend a 
 wedding. 
 
 There was consternation in the Confederate camp 
 when the officer returned with the information that 
 the Yankee had tried to bluff him by claiming the 
 privilege of bringing champagne with him, and that he 
 had claimed the right for the hosts to furnish an 
 equal amount. The telegraph v;as set in motion at 
 once, directing search to be made in all the neighbor- 
 
CHICK AM A UGA. 285 
 
 ing towns for the required beverage. Dalton, Cleve- 
 land, and other points were ransacked without suc- 
 cess. About two o'clock in the afternoon, as de- 
 spair was settling on the Confederates, a telegram 
 was received that some champagne had been found in 
 Atlanta. The authorities there were directed to send 
 it by special locomotive, marking it " Ainmunilion. 
 Forward with dispaic/i." 
 
 At seven o'clock Maynard, accompanied by Laura, 
 and Jakey who was always with him, besides a wagon 
 containing the cases of wine, were at the appointed 
 place on the picket line, where they were met by the 
 Confederate " flag." Transferring the wine to the 
 backs of pack-mules, all started up the side of Mis- 
 sion Ridge to General Bragg's headquarters. 
 
 As they approached the crest a body of Confederate 
 officers, a gay cavalcade in gray and gold lace, rode 
 out to meet them. They were received by the rela- 
 tive of the bride — an uncle — referred to by the officer 
 who brought the invitation. He was an elderly man, 
 of a dignified and serious mien. The party were con- 
 ducted to a large marquee set up for the wedding 
 feast. There they alighted and the wine was unloaded 
 and carried inside. 
 
 A few minutes before seven o'clock the guests were 
 conducted to a knoll, on the summit of which had 
 been erected a canopy of flowers, and where stood a 
 group of Confederates of high rank. On the eastern 
 horizon stood the full moon ; below to the east was 
 the battlefield of Chickamauga ; to the west, the 
 Army of the Cumberland, besieged in Chattanooga, 
 on half rations. As the guests approached, the groom 
 
2 86 CHIC KAMA UGA . . 
 
 Still in his uniform of a corporal, attended by his best 
 man — a Confederate non-commissioned officer of good 
 family, detailed for the occasion, was seen moving 
 from the north toward the knoll. At the same mo- 
 ment the bride — attired in a dress made of a coarse 
 white stuff, manufactured in the Confederacy, and at- 
 tended by several bridesmaids, who had come from 
 a distance to officiate, approached from the south. 
 The two met on the knoll under the canopy. An 
 officer of high rank, who was also a bishop in the 
 Church, stepped forward, and Corporal Sir Hugh Rati- 
 gan and Caroline Fitz Hugh were made one. The 
 only lamp to light the nuptials was the round moon in 
 the east. The only canopy, save that composed of 
 flowers, was the broad heavens above, in which the 
 stars had only just appeared for the night. The only 
 wedding bells were occasional booms from guns on 
 Lookout Mountain. 
 
 The ceremony over, the bride and groom repaired 
 to the marquee, lighted with candles, where they took 
 position to receive the congratulations of the company. 
 All gave way to Colonel and Mrs. Maynard, who of- 
 fered theirs first. 
 
 " We must give you up, I suppose," said Laura to 
 the bride, " just as we would like to know you better. 
 You go abroad, I suppose." 
 
 " No, I remain here." 
 
 " But Sir Hugh will go?" 
 
 "Yes, as soon as he can get his discharge. He goes 
 to Virginia, from here, where he will pass through the 
 lines to Washington, and will put his case in the hands 
 of the British Minister, He anticipates no trouble in 
 
CHICKAMAUGA. 287 
 
 getting a discharge from the Federal Army, and hopes 
 to sail within a month for Ireland." 
 
 " And you ? " asked Laura, in some surprise that the 
 bride could bear to part so soon with her husband. 
 
 " I ? I remain with my people till the last gun has 
 been fired. We have argued that question, and such 
 is my decision." 
 
 " Moi decisions," observed the groom, " are a thing 
 of the past." 
 
 Leaving the newly married pair. Colonel Maynard 
 approached the master of ceremonies, the bride's uncle. 
 
 " General," he said, " I esteem it a privilege that 
 you have waived your right to furnish all the viands 
 for the wedding feast, and have permitted me to con- 
 tribute. " There," pointing to the boxes of wine he 
 had brought, "are six cases of champagne, which I 
 beg you to accept as a contribution from the army in 
 Chattanooga." 
 
 At a signal from the officer addressed, a negro 
 removed a blanket covering a dozen boxes in a corner 
 of the tent, which had come a hundred miles and had 
 not been in position ten minutes. 
 
 " I see your six cases. General, and go you six cases 
 better." 
 
 " Having no further resources at hand," said May- 
 nard, bowing, " I retire from the game." 
 
 " Hannibal," said the Confederate, " you may 
 advance the force in the first box to a position in line 
 on the table." 
 
 " Yes, sah," said the person addressed. And seiz- 
 ing a sabre standing in the corner, he unsheathed it 
 with a flourish and pried open a box of the wine, In 
 
288 CHICK A MA UGA . 
 
 a moment a dozen bottles were standing on the table, 
 like a platoon of soldiers. 
 
 "Now, Hannibal, you may fire the opening shot." 
 
 Hannibal broke the wires ; and a " pop," a far more 
 welcome sound than those that had been so recently 
 and frequently heard by all present, announced that 
 the feast was not only set but begun. 
 
 " I must apologize for our glassware," said the 
 master of ceremonies, " our champagne glasses were 
 all shattered by the concussions at Chickamauga." 
 
 And well he might. The array consisted of tin 
 cups, wooden cups, glass cups, and tumblers, all either 
 cracked, broken, or dinted. And as a circle was 
 formed to pledge the bride and groom, one Confeder- 
 ate screened himself behind his comrades to avoid 
 being seen drinking from a gourd. 
 
 When the contents of eighteen cases — a regiment 
 of " dead soldiers " — lay on the table, the guests pre-" 
 pared to depart. The last words had been spoken by 
 General and Mrs. Maynard, and by Sir Hugh and 
 Lady Ratigan. Jakey, who had thus far wandered 
 about unobserved, though not unobserving, stepped 
 up to the bride and groom. Though he had not 
 tasted the wine, his eyes glistened with intoxication at 
 the union of his two friends, whose attachment he had 
 noticed from the first. 
 
 " Miss Baggs, air you'uns 'n Sir Rats goen ter 
 ride roun' Tennessee some more in the Chicken 
 Coop ? " 
 
 There was a burst of laughter from the party, 
 and Lady Ratigan, with a blush, informed Jakey that 
 the Chicken Coop was broken in pieces, 
 
CHICK A MA UGA . 2 « 9 
 
 "I didn't know nuthin' 'bout that. Reckon Sir 
 Rats 'd find 't handy in Ireland. 'T's kind o' funny you 
 'uns starten out way up by the mountings, 'n felchen 
 up down hyar, nigh outer th' Georgy line." And 
 Jakey surprised the company by giving tlie only "ha, 
 ha," that had to this moment ever been heard to issue 
 from his serious lips. 
 
 As the guests descended the side of the mountain, 
 a cheer was heard in the direction of Chattanooga. 
 They stopped and listened. A man rode out from 
 the Union picket line to meet them. 
 
 " What's that cheering ? " asked General Maynard. 
 
 " Ole Pap's in command of the Army of the Cum- 
 berland." 
 
 THE END. 
 
A MODERN KNIGHT. 
 
 Ormsby Macknight Mitchel, 
 
 ASTRONOMER AND GENERAL. 
 
 A Biographical Narrative by his Son, F. A. Mitchel, 
 With Steel Portrait. Crown Zvo,gilt top, $2.00. 
 
 From the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette. 
 
 General Ormsby M. Mitchel left a record in science and in the 
 art of war to which students of both will long turn for enlighten- 
 ment and for a high example. He was the first American 
 astronomer of his day, and among the generals of the civil war he 
 had no equal for far-reaching, aggressive combinations and 
 rapidity of execution. 
 
 From the Boston Advertiser. 
 
 In reading the biography of this man, our faith in human nature 
 is increased. He was a great man in the truest and best sense of 
 the word ; and his life is one that can be held up to the youth of 
 the nation as an example for generations to come. 
 
 *^* For sale by all Booksellers. Sent by mail, postpaid, on 
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