HE 
 
 DRu^AmE 
 
 F^APPAHANNOCK 
 
THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
 
 tr 
 
THE ^^^99Ul^]lo 
 
 DRUMMER-BOY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 RAPPAHANNOCK; 
 
 OR, 
 
 TAKING SIDES 
 
 BY 
 
 REV. EDWARD A. RAND, 
 
 Author of "Sailor-Boy Bob," "When the War Broke Out; 
 OR, Sailor-Boy Bob's Sister," " Up-the-Ladder Club 
 Series," "School and Camp Series," "Fight- 
 ing THE Sea," " Margie at the 
 Harbor-Light," "Art 
 Series," etc. 
 
 N£IV YORK: HUNT &= EA TON 
 CI NCI NN A TI: CRANSTON &= STOIVE 
 
Copyright, 1S89, by 
 
 HUNT & EATON, 
 
 New York. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 A NUMBER of years ago, I had occasion to 
 prepare for the Christian Litelligencer a 
 story, '' Nurse Frye," which I copyriglited with 
 the intention of working it up some time into 
 book-form.. That story is imbedded in this, 
 and it will account for any resemblances noticed. 
 The present narrative, though, is entirely differ- 
 ent in its purpose, and includes the former only 
 as an incidental part. 
 
 Let me state the purpose of the book. 
 
 Perhaps some boy, some girl, may get from 
 this story an idea of what their fathers and 
 mothers passed through when young, and when 
 over the land brooded the dark cloud of the 
 great Civil War. Some one, too, may esti- 
 mate more fairly the blessings enjoyed in this 
 land to-day because slavery crumbled and per- 
 ished in the war. One purpose in this book is 
 to encourage its readers to promptly take sides, 
 
 603193 
 
4 Preface. 
 
 tlirou":li life, ao:aiiist the vvroni!:. If looking; for- 
 ward to the time when the ballot may lie in 
 their hands, may they resolve that in its use they 
 will take sides with the right ; that it shall only 
 lielp establish on still firmer foundations the 
 great principle of equal rights and fair play be- 
 tween man and man. E. A. R. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A Foggy Night by the Sea 7 
 
 II. A Rescue 20 
 
 III. One Side or the Other 40 
 
 IV. The Tramp's Disgrace 67 
 
 V. A Mystery 87 
 
 YI. A Beatixg Drum 105 
 
 VJI. Must Be a Soldier 116 
 
 VIII. Gilbert Makes a Call 139 
 
 IX. A Sorry Recruit 154 
 
 X. Tracking a Mystery 1*74 
 
 XL Enlisted 1 94 
 
 XII. The Furlough 199 
 
 XIII. By the Rappahannock 217 
 
 XIV. Fredericksburg 251 
 
 XV. That Awful Day 270 
 
 XVI. The Battle-News at Home 278 
 
 XVII. In an Old House 295 
 
 XVIII. The Hospital by the Rappahannock 313 
 
 XIX. In the Army Log-Hut 325 
 
 XX. The Negro Cabin in the LIollow 341 
 
 XXL Arrested 360 
 
 XXIL A Hunt in the Old Distillery 371 
 
 XXIIL Sunshine 379 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/drummerboyofrappOOrand 
 
THE DRUMMER-BOY 
 
 OF THE RAPPAHANNOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A FOGGY NIGHT BY THE SEA. 
 
 ^^TT is an ugly night along shore, and no 
 
 i mistake." 
 
 The speaker, a young man, left the anvil, 
 
 where he was pounding a horseshoe, and, going 
 
 to the door of the sliop, looked out. He could 
 
 see nothing overhead, but before him a muddy 
 
 road was revealed by the light of the forge, 
 
 winking and flashing like a very red and very 
 
 angry eye, and in response the puddles winked 
 
 back a number of very red and very angry eyes. 
 
 Some kind of a stranded sea-monster full of 
 
 eyes seemed to be out in the road. If it had 
 
 been day, one would have seen a quantity of 
 
 light gray fog hanging down in weird confusion 
 
 from the branches of the pines. The sea mist 
 
 had trailed its delicate skirts across the trees, 
 
 and thoy were sadly torn. Though there was 
 
8 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 an ominous drip, drip, in every direction, still 
 no rain at the time was falling. The roar of 
 the sea, live liundred feetaway, had no difficulty 
 in penetrating tlie thin, unsubstantial wall of 
 vapor. The young man now came back into 
 the crimson light flaring from the forge fire. 
 
 " An ugly night, thougli only a foggy one," 
 he said. 
 "Yes." 
 
 This answer was a growl. Because it was a 
 word you knew it was a man — but the kind of 
 voice suggested that it might be a dog — in a 
 dark corner. You could see nothing. The dog 
 growled again : " Say ! " 
 "What?" 
 
 "Don't you think such nights are fearful 
 risky on the sea ? " 
 
 The dog now rose out of the shadows, and, 
 stepping forward, turned into a man as the light 
 fell upon him. He M'as a man of strong muscu- 
 lar build. His beard was dark and it half covered 
 his face. His eyes had a kindly sparkle to them, 
 and as he chanced to lift a black felt hat much 
 battered, like a ship long at sea, he showed a fnll, 
 white forehead that said, " I may seem rough, and 
 my dress may be poor, but there's much of a man 
 inside." He was dressed in a blue army blouse, 
 and in light gray pants much frayed at the bottom. 
 
A Foggy Night by the Sea. 9 
 
 "Now, don't you think so?" He had cleared 
 his tliroat, and the dog-growl had gone. 
 
 " I do certainly," replied his companion, 
 pounding very positively the iron on the anvil. 
 
 " 1 was coming down the road to-night, 
 tramping, you know, from the last town, and I 
 tried to make out some sort of light at sea, but 
 I couldn't. Every thing was sponged out by 
 the mist. Then I heard the horns of the fishing- 
 smacks, and I heard quite a tooting once more 
 as if somebody was in trouble, but I could see 
 nothing." 
 
 There was silence. After a little while the 
 stranger spoke again. " Seems to mc you are fit 
 for better work than this— though pounding is 
 good enough work in itself," and here the speaker 
 looked admiringly on the young blacksmith. 
 
 Young Forrest Frye was evidently pleased to 
 be noticed, and there were grounds for the com- 
 pliment. He was not of the large, stalwart class, 
 but his frame was well shapen, and his step had 
 a quick elastic spring to it. The blue eyes, that 
 looked from under a low fringe of brown curls, 
 flashed with a frankness, decision, and energy 
 always characteristic of him. 
 
 The stranger pulled away at his vest pocket 
 and took out a grimy relic of many tough jour- 
 neys. " My smoking trouble you '( " 
 
10 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock, 
 
 " O, no." 
 
 " Perhaps j^ou'll join me." 
 '' I knocked off. the first of the year. A friend 
 rather wanted me to," and he added to himself, 
 " and I declare if she isn't here now ! Hullo, 
 Nanny ! " he said, in a loud voice of welcome. 
 
 The young woman who now stepped forward 
 into the crimson light had a face that interested 
 you at once. It is true that her complexion 
 was very fair, and the lines of the face even and 
 regular. She had charms, though, that no reg- 
 ularity of outline alone could give the face. Her 
 soft, clear hazel eyes shone v,-ith a warmth and 
 a truth that indicated the ready and steadfast 
 f)-iend through all trials. It was when she spoke 
 that another of Nanny's charms disclosed itself. 
 " I had rather hear Nanny talk than hear other 
 folks sing," was Skipper Bowser's opinion. Her 
 voice had a peculiarly musical intonation, so that 
 its very utterance was a song, and whenever it 
 sounded it had a quality of sympathy that went 
 te) the heart as well as the ear. 
 
 " Is the cap'n coming down, Nanny ? " 
 " I don't know, Forrest. It looks ugly out to 
 sea." 
 
 " Looks \ Can you see any thing ? " 
 " No ; and for that reason I call it an ugly 
 night. Father says when you can't see the light 
 
A Fo(j(iu Ni'jht h>j the Sea. 
 
 11 
 
 on 'Eagged P'int,' you iniglit as well conclude, 
 first as last, that the niglit is a bad one for some- 
 body at sea." 
 
 "If you are going up home, Nanny, you 
 might say to your father that he need not couie 
 down. The few iiorseshoes that I wanted to 
 pound on to-night are about done. That will 
 give him a longer time to rest." 
 
 "Perhaps my smoking is offensive to the 
 young lady." 
 
 At this voice I^anny looked up with a startled 
 air, not having seen the man who had seemed a 
 huge pillar of shadow in one corner of the shop, 
 where he had converted himself into a small- 
 sized Etna well at work. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, but I suppose I am too 
 fond of this old friend always to notice who may 
 be round. I sometimes think I could part with 
 a good deal before I could give up this." He 
 here took from his mouth the blackened stump 
 of a pipe and courteously packed the dirty little 
 volcano in his vest pocket. 
 
 " He is civil," thought Nanny ; " and, after all, 
 smoking has not made him so selfish as some 
 people who dress better." 
 
 " But it is not so bad as drink," murmured 
 the man. 
 
 " You are right there," said Nanny. 
 
12 Drummer- Boy of the Rappaliannock. 
 
 This encouraged liiin. 
 
 " You may think it queer in me to talk so, 
 but you seem like folks who know and do what 
 is about right. I would give a good deal if I 
 could let liquor alone." 
 
 " Have you really tried, sir ? tried hard ? " asked 
 Xanny. 
 
 " Yes, I think so. It has been so hard a try 
 that I have been tempted to make away with 
 myself," said the man pitifully. 
 
 " Plo ! " exclaimed Nanny in a tone that was 
 impatient and bordered on a rebuke. " That is 
 a temptation of the devil." 
 
 The man may have feared that the conversa- 
 tion was getting too personal, and it might in- 
 volve him in unpleasant confessions. He shrank 
 from that issue, and dodged it by suddenly ask- 
 ing the question, " Who made the devil ? " 
 There was a theological twinkle in liis dark eyes; 
 an air of triumph, too, as if he had captured 
 his captor. Nanny did not dodge the question, 
 but resolutely took the bull by the horns — or, in 
 this case, the snake by the tail. 
 
 " If there be a devil, and I think the Bible 
 says so, then God made the soul of. the devil, 
 but he did not make him a devil. God made 
 him innocent, and his character was something 
 he afterward took on liimself." 
 
A Fofjgy K'lgJit by the Sea. 13 
 
 "Well — well," said the man, evidently relish- 
 ing his thought, and smacking his li}3S as if tast- 
 ing a peach, " could not God have lixed it so 
 that things shouldn't have turned out as they 
 have? Then why didn't he, miss?" Again 
 there was an air of triumph, as if in the chase 
 he had turned and lassoed his pursuer. Be- 
 sides, he was cool, and at ease. Nanny had some 
 warmth of manner; a seeming impatience of 
 contradiction. 
 
 " See here, sir. I want to answer that ques- 
 tion by asking another. Can you think of any 
 better way for us to be created than as thinking 
 and voluntary beings — that is, having a will to 
 choose between things ? " 
 
 " O, I know what you mean," and his asser- 
 tion of knowledge gave a slight tone of conceit 
 to his words. " Of course, of course," he added, 
 and then he spoke slowly, a little embarrassed, as 
 if he saw what was coming, and knew it would 
 damage him, like a timid base-baller afraid that a 
 shot for the eye may be approaching, " of course 
 we must be voluntary beings. We must be able 
 to choose between good and evil. If not, we are 
 no better than the briites." 
 
 " Does not this follow, then : God, while he 
 made the devil innocent, gave him the distin- 
 guishing mark of an intelligent being — the 
 
U Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 power to choose ? Having that power, he chose 
 evil and began his wicked career. Now I think 
 it is best to stop there, and not try to bother our 
 brains any more about it ; spending our strength 
 in getting out of sin rather than iu trying to 
 expkiin it." 
 
 " Yes, yes," he murmured. 
 
 " Haven't you heard about beating down Satan 
 under our feet ? " 
 
 "Oyes!" 
 
 '' Do you believe it ? Are you trying for it ? 
 We ought to try." And she stamped her little 
 foot with a sovereign energy. 
 
 " Yes," he said, catching her enthusiasm, 
 " I would like to give that old enemy a tussle ; 
 but," he added, in a discouraged voice, "he 
 is so awful spry that he turns amazin' quick on 
 you." 
 
 Forrest had been so interested in this conver- 
 sation that he suffered the forge flame to sink 
 lower and lower, till the only light in the shop 
 was shed by a very drowsy lantern on a shelf. 
 "When the conversation halted, only the splut- 
 tering of the forge Are and the dull, mutfled 
 mumblings of the sea were audible. This halt 
 was not a long one, for the stranger cleared 
 his throat of several disagreeable " hems," and 
 started once more. 
 
A Fuggy Night by the Sea. 15 
 
 " ]!^ow, if God fixes every thing so nicely as 
 you tliiiilc, what did he sillier this infernal war 
 to be let loose for? Couldn't he have stopped 
 all this clatter ? " 
 
 Nanny's white brow began to wrinkle as if 
 she did not care to have this subject introduced. 
 With the wrinkling of the brow came a sharp, 
 uneasy look at Forrest. 
 
 "All this fuss about so-called 'niggers!'" 
 muttered the tramp. " I don't call them 
 so." 
 
 Forrest's eyes flashed. 
 
 "Fuss!" he repeated. "About time there 
 should be a fuss. Here we have been tram- 
 pling on the black man for generations. I don't 
 knov/ but it is a judgment God is sending on 
 us." 
 
 The tramp's face quickly brightened. He 
 seemed pleased to have an expression of opin- 
 ion from tl^e young blacksmith. Perhaps- he 
 liad been waiting to get at Forrest's ideas, for 
 several times during his talk with Nanny he 
 had turned away and looked at Forrest, as if 
 anxious to hear an opinion from him. 
 
 " Tlien you believe * the nigger,' as some folks 
 say, is at the bottom of this fuss ? " the man said, 
 eagerly. 
 
 Forrest hesitated. 
 2 
 
16 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 Nannj spoke for him, her usually silvery 
 voice sharpening into tones of indignation : 
 "Not the iSegro, but the wliite man's sin; his 
 abominable selfishness. It might have been a 
 yellow man instead of a black man, and the 
 trouble wouldn't have been the color of his skin 
 but the white man's awful selfishness. That is 
 where the trouble is. That is the thing at the 
 bottom." 
 
 "Hurrah! "shouted Forrest, jubilantly. "Don't 
 you stir up ISTanny ! You waive her up. Skipper 
 Bowser says, and she is worse to handle than 
 the minister." 
 
 " Pooh ! " said the man. " Women can't 
 fight, and ministers won't. We want an opinion 
 from those that are going to the war." 
 
 " Then why didn't you go ? " asked Nanny, 
 impulsively. 
 
 "May be I have been." 
 
 " Then why didn't you stay ? You didn't de- 
 sert, did you ? " 
 
 The impetuosity of Nanny's feelings swept 
 her away into a mistake, and she immediately 
 was conscious of it, and blushed. He in turn 
 did not redden with indignation. He calmly 
 lifted his old felt hat again, but higher this 
 time, and pointed at an ugly scar across his 
 forehead. 
 
A Foggy Night by the Sea. 17 
 
 " Bull Rnn," he said. 
 
 Then he turned back the sleeve of his left 
 arm and showed the red mark, the ragged mark,' 
 of a wound recently healed. 
 
 " Ball's Bluif," he said. 
 
 Xanny now blushed redder than ever. Then 
 he took out of a breast-pocket an envelope car- 
 rying, after the fashion of those days, the pa- 
 triotic emblem of the stars and stripes in one 
 corner. From this envelope he drew forth a 
 certificate of a soldier's discharge. Nanny after- 
 ward recalled the fact that, intentionally or not, 
 he kept a finger on that part of the document 
 where the soldier's name usually appeared. It 
 was a discharge from the service of the army 
 on account of wounds ; an honorable good-bye. 
 
 " O I — I am sorry," said Nanny, quickly. 
 "Excuse me! I didn't know — " 
 
 " That is all right. Of course you could not 
 know. I only want him to understand it is a 
 true case — that I have been there. I was won- 
 dering whether he had ever thought of going. 
 You believe in taking sides ? " he said, address- 
 ing Forrest. 
 
 " That is the way Cap'n Frye talks. ' Take 
 sides,' the cap'n says. I know what I -want to 
 do." 
 
 Forrest rapidly strode across the hardened 
 
18 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 floor of earth to a closet in the corner. As lie 
 opened its dusty doors a drum on a shelf was 
 revealed. 
 
 "O don't, Forrest!" exclaimed Xanny. 
 
 He did not hear her, or did not wish to seem 
 to hear her. lie eagerly grasped the old relic. 
 
 " See here," he said, patting the drum-sticks 
 as if old and beloved friends, "I can do one 
 thing." 
 
 He twirled the sticks with a proud flourish 
 and then let them fall on the drumhead rapidly 
 and skillfully. 
 
 The effect on the old soldier was instantane- 
 ous and great. He was no longer a crouching, 
 shuflling idler in a blacksmith-shop — a tired 
 tramp after a rough, hard walk — a refugee 
 from damp, foggy weather. He threw back his 
 head. His eyes kindled with a sudden, sharp 
 light. His face was glorified with the inspira- 
 tion of a great cause. He cried, 
 
 " 1 see you can take sides if you want to." 
 
 " Sides ! " exclaimed Forrest. " Guess I un- 
 derstand myself. I think it is a splendid thing; 
 a tight for one's country and freedom ! I don't 
 know whether I am heavy enough. I am only 
 seventeen." 
 
 " You can beat a drum. You going? " 
 
 " I mean to go if I get a chance." 
 
^ Foggy Night by the Sea. 19 
 
 " O Forrest ! " said ]N"annj, rebukinglj. Tlien 
 she blushed as if she liad again made a mistake. 
 Foi-rest did not like the interruption. He 
 ceased to drum. The sticks rested idly on the 
 sheepskin. The old soldier became a tramp 
 again. The light faded out of his ejes like the 
 flush of day going off from the sea. His head 
 drooped. The honorable discharge went into 
 his pocket again, and the old felt hat covered 
 up the sign of the terrible fight at Bull Eun. 
 The three figures in the shop stood motionless 
 and shadowy, too much interested in their 
 thoughts to say any thing. The silence and the 
 gloom would soon have become oppressive, when 
 suddenly a sound without was heard. Forrest 
 thrust his drum back into its closet. He ran to 
 the door, holding his hand up to his ear. 
 
 "Hark ! " he cried, facing the sea. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Nanny. 
 
 " That is a gun ! " 
 
 Ye^, it came again : Boom-m-m-m ! 
 
20 Drummtr-Boy of the Rappahannock, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A RESCUE. 
 
 " rpHAT'S a gun, ]N"anny ! " 
 
 J_ " A gun where ? " 
 
 " At sea, Nanny. There is trouble at sea 
 somewhere." He turned to the stranger and 
 asked, "Don't you want to go down to the 
 beach?" 
 
 " Certainly. I am always glad to help." 
 
 The two hurried across the muddy road, and 
 jumped the stonewall dividing the road from a 
 pasture. The man looked round, and saw Nan- 
 ny following. " Plad she better come ? " he 
 whispered. 
 
 " Yes," said Forrest ; " she will help. One 
 of tliat kind you can't stop, you know, when 
 they liave made up their minds." 
 
 The three ran rather than walked across the 
 rough pasture-lot, tufted with clumps of blne- 
 bcriy bushes and separating the road from tlie 
 sea. The occasion for the alarm was a mystery, 
 and where tlie least is known the most can be 
 imagined. Half a dozen dismal shipwrecks took 
 
A JRescue. 21 
 
 place in Nanny's thoughts by the time she had 
 traversed this field. The moon must have now- 
 risen in some quarter of the heavens, for they 
 were in a huge ghostly sphere of half-visible 
 grayish mist. They all halted on the edge of 
 the sand-hills that sloped down to the shore, 
 and tried to pierce the mist with their sight. 
 Nanny could make out a whiteness below, a 
 rough, shaggy whiteness, continually changing 
 its outlines, and narrowing to a streak farther 
 along the beach. 
 
 " There are the breakers," she said. 
 
 Boom — m-m-m ! 
 
 '• There it is again, that gun ; " cried Forrest. 
 
 He felt the touch of a light, firm hand on his 
 arm. 
 
 " It is at No-Man's Rock, Forrest." 
 
 "You are right, Nanny, and here goes for the 
 shore." Down the face of the hummock he 
 plunged, followed by the others. " Here is the 
 cap'n's boat. Can you row^, sir ? " 
 
 " Try me," said the tramp. " You may be a 
 good oarsman, but you can't beat me." 
 
 " I will steer." 
 
 " You ! " said the stranger, addressing Nanny 
 in tones of surprise. 
 
 Forrest replied for her with evident pride. 
 " You may steer well yourself, but I don't believe 
 
22 Dnimmer-Boy of the PMppahannock. 
 
 YOU can equal her. She is phicky," he added in 
 a whisper, " and she can beat me out and out." 
 
 Captain Frye's boat Lay on the sands, high and 
 dry. 
 
 " Here she is, and liere are tlie rollers to move 
 her on. The sea is quiet, and we will row off 
 to ISTo-Man's flock, only half a mile off. Now 
 push! There she rolls! Steady! Tiiat will 
 do. Nanny, I'll take the rollers back. You 
 must not lift so much." Her answer to Forrest 
 was to walk up the sand with a roller. 
 
 Boom — m-m-m ! 
 
 "There they go again! All ready," cried 
 Forrest, acting as skipper, and able to do it. 
 jSTow jump in, Nanny ! There! He and I will 
 launch her. Here she goes! All hands in! Out 
 with your oars ! Nanny will steer, sir. Now give 
 it to her before that breaker comes. Hold ! Lie on 
 your oars ! Now again, pull, pull ! Hold, here's 
 a breaker ! Pull, pull ! Now, my hearties ! " 
 
 The crew responding with a will to the ex- 
 hortation of their venerable skipper, the boat 
 was soon carried through the surf into the wa- 
 ters beyond. The sea was not rough, and yet 
 not absolutely at rest. There was that Ipng, un- 
 easy swell from which the sea is never wholly 
 free. The tempest-billows subside to this, and 
 leave it behind as a foot-print of the terrible 
 
A Rescue. 23 
 
 inarch of tlie liowling wind, and the crasliing 
 rain, the blackening night and the whitening 
 waves. To those sailing calmly, confidently to- 
 day, this niai'k of the storm survives as a re- 
 minder of a power temporarily laid down, that 
 may be taken up any moment and howl and 
 rage and destroy once more. Any trouble to- 
 night, though, would not come from the wreck- 
 ing wind and water, but from that silent, con- 
 fusing, treacherous fog. 
 
 " Nanny, can you get at your father's lantern 
 in the stern ? " 
 
 " It is all lighted, Forrest, safe in the locker. 
 I did not take it out, for I thought we might 
 row and steer better without it." 
 
 " I see it now, shining out through the crack 
 Just like you, to have things ready. We don't 
 need it now, but we may ; and it is well to have 
 things handy. Half a mile will take us to No- 
 Man's Rock." 
 
 Boom — m-m-m. 
 
 " That gun is getting to be a near neighbor," 
 said the tramp, pulling like an expert. 
 
 Forrest here rose in the boat and discharged 
 a pjstol. 
 
 " Why, Forrest ! where- did you get that ? " 
 
 " That is the old horse-pistol the cap'n keeps 
 in the shop to shoot partridges with, and I 
 
24 Drummer-Boy of the Mappahannock. 
 
 bang away with it on the Fourtli. I thought I 
 might want to nse it, and brought it along. I 
 giiej^s that will chirk 'ein up, as Skipper Bowser 
 says." 
 
 '• AVhat a boy ! " said Kanny, in the language 
 of motherly reproof for the surreptitious intro- 
 duction of fire-arms, and yet in a tone of pleas- 
 ure at Forrest's ingenious substitute for a signal 
 gun. 
 
 Boom — m-m-m ! 
 
 " She answers us," cried Forrest, complacently. 
 
 Boom — m-m-m ! 
 
 "That one was a spanker," said the tramp. 
 " We are pretty well up to 'em." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said Nanny. "There is some- 
 thing black I can see among the breakers near 
 No-Man's Rock. Hurrah ! " 
 
 "Hurrah!" shouted Forrest and the tramp. 
 " Hurrah ! " A cry came back from the ves- 
 sel. 
 
 " Nanny, just put us on the north side of the 
 rock, please. It is not so rough there, you 
 know." 
 
 " Ay, ay, skipper." 
 
 A long, narrow, black something could be 
 made out, and that was a vessel thrust upon some- 
 thing else that was long, narrow, and black, and 
 that was No-Man's Rock. 
 
A Rcsme. 25 
 
 " Boat aliov ! " came the call from tlie vessel. 
 " Here we are ! Don't worry ! " said the skip- 
 per, soothingly. The boat was laid along-side of 
 the vessel, and a lantern in the rigging of the hit- 
 ter sprinkled a few pale rays on the deck. Two 
 black lumps rolled across the deck, and turned 
 out to be two men that leaned over the rail. 
 
 '' I tell you we are glad to see ,you ; for where 
 we are we don't know much better than Jonah 
 did when he was swallered up inside that famous 
 fish ! Do we, Griffin ! " 
 
 "That we don't, Trickey," said the other 
 man. 
 
 " I^ow we must get off, the next thing. There 
 are only us two, besides the old lady and her 
 granddarter. We'll let 'em go ashore^ fust, if 
 you say so. Here they be now — or one of 'em." 
 Suddenly something else appeared on the 
 deck, and Forrest knew from the shape of the 
 figure that it was a woman. 
 
 " O, has help come, Trickey ? " 
 " Now, miss, be easy. We shall be all right 
 now, for here's folks trusty as a big hawser. And 
 don't let your grandmother worry any, but jest 
 say we shall soon be safe as the cap'n of a man- 
 of-war the day after the battle." 
 
 Another figure soon appeared, short and stout 
 and much muffled, and she stood leaning on the 
 
26 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 yoiiiio' woman. "That's tlie old ladj De "Witt, 
 Avlio owns this," whispered Trickey to the tramp ; 
 and wliile Forrest and Gi-ilhn were "stowing 
 away the cari2:o," as Trickey called it, the loqiia- 
 cions tongue of the latter rattled away in the 
 tramp's ear. The two stood side by side ou the 
 deck of the yacht. 
 
 " You see, this is a yacht, and there are only ns 
 two — me and Clriftin. Our skipper was the third, 
 hut, poor fellow ! he left us in the afternoon, tak- 
 ing our boat awhile, and thought while we were 
 at anchor he'd fish, and this fog came up. You 
 see, he was half-seas over when he left, but we 
 couldn't stop him any more than a bull goin' 
 down a mountain. He didn't heave in sight, 
 and me and Griffin thought we would h'ist an- 
 chor and feel round for him. That was a mis- 
 take. We didn't see as much as a ripple of the 
 skipper, and by-andby, in the fog, we must 
 amuse ourselves by flounderin' on to this rock. 
 There is one hole in her aft, sartin, and if the 
 next tide should float iitr she might float to sink. 
 All we could do was to bang away with that lit- 
 tle cannon, hopin' we might rouse somebody, 
 and enough glad we were to see you. Ho, 
 there! All aboard in that boat, Griffin? So 
 they are." 
 
 " So they are," replied Griffin, who appeared 
 
A Rescue. 27 
 
 to be a kind of plionograpli for Trickey, repeat- 
 ing what was shouted to him. 
 
 '' If I may make a suggestion," said the 
 tramp, "' that boat is not a vast one and four 
 is a comfortable load for her, and, if young Frye 
 will let me, I'll take his place and then come for 
 liini and the others." 
 
 But Forrest wanted the pleasure of having 
 a hand in rowing that boatload ashore, and 
 j^Janny had whispered, "I'll help row, Forrest." 
 The little craft now" started for the beach. 
 
 "Have a good heart, grandmother," said the 
 younger of th(5 two rescued women. 
 
 "1 will. Belle." 
 
 "Then her name is Belle," thought I^anny. 
 " And Forrest says her other name is De Witt." 
 
 The fog speedily veiled the yacht and the rock. 
 Before, as well as behind, dropped the mist. It 
 came down like a dismal vault upon a narrow 
 circle of still more dismal water, in the center 
 of which was the little dory. The sea swayed 
 lazily against the sides of the boat, the sound 
 of its splashing interrupted by the click of the 
 oars and the dripping of the water from their 
 blades. Belle and her grandmother were pro- 
 fuse in their exclamations of gratitude, while 
 Tsanny interjected words of regret at their ex- 
 posure, administering what Forrest called " doses 
 
28 JJriimmer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 of sympathy," which he nsed to saj she kept 
 " bottled np for ready use, and it was always 
 pleasant to take." 
 
 The boat was pulled tlirongh the surf by 
 Forrest and Nanny, and then successfully 
 beached. 
 
 "You here ?"' exclaimed Forrest, recognizing 
 an old acquaintance by the light of a fire that 
 some one had started at the base of a sand hum- 
 mock. " You here. Skipper Bowser ? " 
 
 " Of course, and lots of others. They are dis- 
 tributed round in spots. People at the seashore 
 sleep -with one eye open, and we li*eard them guns 
 barkin' and catne down to see what the trouble 
 was. We all want to help. Take the folks to 
 my house, Nanny." 
 
 "Skipper," replied Nanny, "I will do as you 
 say, and take these ladies to your house — that is 
 the nearest place — and then some one can take 
 my oars ; and couldn't you, Forrest, get another 
 boat to go off with yon ? " 
 
 " The very thing I was going to do." 
 
 " Miss De Witt, if your grandmother will let 
 me support her on one side, while you stay her 
 on the other, we might walk up to a house near 
 by," suggested Nanny. 
 
 " Thank you. You are very kind — and — very 
 brave too. I could not have done what you did." 
 
A Rescue. 29 
 
 " Oil," said Nanny, modestly, " we get used 
 to it down by the sea. We are always expect- 
 ing something to happen, the sea is so cruel and 
 treaclierous. It is like a beast that licks your 
 hand and plays with you one moment, and the 
 next it may spring upon you. We never know 
 what it will do from hour to hour, and we get 
 used to surprises. Still we are proud of it, 
 though it does make us tremble sometimes. I 
 should miss it if away from it, miss its beauty 
 and its majesty, and its roar too, which is 
 sometimes only a dreamy, musical murmur 
 back at our house. We live not very far from 
 the shore." 
 
 "This is a great surprise to us," said Belle, 
 "and especially to poor grandma." 
 
 " Yes, yes," murmured the old lady, softly. 
 
 " You see, we were out on a pleasure excur- 
 sion, as grandma is very fond of the water and 
 owns a yacht. We should feel better if we 
 knew M'liat had become of our skipper." 
 
 IS'anny wanted to ask them about the skipper 
 of the yacht, but before her were the twinkling 
 lights in the home of Skipper Bowser. 
 
 " There ! we will step into this house, for it is 
 nearest to the boat. Skipper and Mrs. Bowser 
 live hei-e, and back of them, in the woods, are 
 George and Eliza, two colored people, real good- 
 
30 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahaitnock. 
 
 hearted, and they will do all they can. And 
 liere we are." 
 
 Skipper Bowser had run ahead to notify 
 Miranda Jane, his wife, and she was on hand to 
 welcome the strangers, her stout form almost 
 filling the doorway. 
 
 " Come right in ! " she was h.ospitably ex- 
 claiming, while behind her stood the skipper 
 grinning a cordial welcome. 
 
 The strangers were taken into a parter that 
 was bright with painted crockery images on the 
 mantel-piece, and with showy blossoms of amar- 
 anths in gilt china vases on the table, while orange 
 and yellow home-made rugs flamed all over the 
 floor and gave one a good idea of a prairie on fire. 
 
 All this time the work of rescue was in prog- 
 ress off the shore. Forrest rowed back to the 
 yacht, received to his boat the tramp and the 
 two yachtsmen, and the home-pull was begun. 
 Forrest was steering ; Trickey and the tramp 
 were rowing. Sometimes after an intense strain 
 upon' one's nature, when every sense has been in 
 vigilant exercise, and every nerve stretched, there 
 is a reaction in which all watch is abandoned, all 
 care dismissed, and the soul luxuriates in the 
 consciousness of rest and triumph. Forrest was 
 in this mood. He laughed, cracked his jokes, 
 sung snatches of songs. In one of these mo- 
 
A Rescue. 31 
 
 merits of exhilaration lie carelessly rose in liis 
 seat, looked about, gave directions for the beach- 
 ing of the boat in the right place, exchanged 
 jokes with the trainp, laughed, hurrahed, and, 
 making a misstep as he changed his position, 
 fell into the sea. 
 
 "If that isn't a pity! " exclaimed Trickey. 
 
 The tramp only said, " The feller can't swim ; " 
 and into the chilling sea he went also. 
 
 It was an exciting moment. The moon was 
 overhead somewhere, trying to cut through the 
 fog with its sharp disk, making a mild twilight 
 on the great sea. , . 
 
 The two yachtsmen were confusedly stirring 
 about, looking down into the black, uneasy 
 water, crying, " Do you see 'em ? " " Have they 
 come up ? " " Too bad ! " " O, there they are ! " 
 
 Yes, there they were ; or at least two objects 
 had bobbed up into the twilight, one saying to 
 the other, in a deep, strong voice, " Don't wony ! 
 I've got ye ! I can swim ! " 
 
 " That's that man ! " shouted Trickey. " Here ! 
 We'll pull ye— in— in ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " cried his companion, with his 
 oar wQrkinsr the boat nearer to the struoffflina: 
 humanity in the water. The tramp was work- 
 ing his way toward the boat. He was support- 
 ing Forrest, who was one of the exceptional 
 
32 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 cases sometimes found near salt water that know 
 little about swimming. Forrest had confessed 
 this to the man while on the yacht that very 
 evening. The two were now within an arm's 
 reach of the boat, when suddenly Forrest in 
 some way slipped out of the strong grasp of his 
 rescuer, and disappeared. 
 
 " If he ain't gone again ! " groaned Griffin. 
 
 " And t'other one, too ! " said Trickey, 
 
 The tramp had gone out of sight, and the 
 gurgling Avater closed over every trace of the 
 two souls who a moment ago were fighting 
 with death. The sea like a dark coffin-lid shut 
 down upon them, and then came that horrible 
 season of Avaiting, the awful suspense when 
 every thing is so uncertain and unreal ; life a 
 receding wave, a vanishing shadow, a star expir- 
 ing in the western sea, and death the only thing 
 real in the world. No, no ! There was a glimpse 
 of life. 
 
 " There they are again ! On my side, Trickey ! 
 I'll catch 'em ! " shouted Griffin, who had much 
 warmth of manner and heart also. He was at 
 once reaching his hands down into the water, 
 grabbhig, gri^^ping, shouting, " I got 'em ! 
 Keep the boat stiddy ! " 
 
 " Take him — first ! " gasped the tramp, sliak- 
 iuir the water off from his head. " There ! " 
 
A Rescue. 33 
 
 Into the boat was pulled Forrest, and then the 
 tramp was received. 
 
 " How — how do you feel ? " said Griffin, bend- 
 ing over Forrest, heaped up in the stern. 
 
 " O !— O !— better ! That was tough ! Thought 
 I was gone." 
 
 " And you came awful near it, sure as your 
 name is — " 
 
 " Forrest Hooper ! " 
 
 Tlie boat jolted roughly, as if some one were 
 stepping about, and the two yachtsmen saw it 
 was the tramp springing up in the thin light 
 and they heard him groan, " What — what ? O 
 my God ! " Then down into the boat he dropped, 
 making a heap as limj) and inert as a lot of old 
 clothing. 
 
 "That's a queer bob!" ejaculated Trickey. 
 "Sick, old feller?" he asked, turning to the 
 tramp. 
 
 But the latter said nothing. 
 
 " Afraid he has hurt hisself," suggested Grif- 
 fin, sympathetically. " Let's git 'em ashore 
 quick as we can," 
 
 Forrest wanted to rise, and go to the tramp. 
 
 " No, boy ; keep quiet ! " commanded Trickey, 
 abruptly. " Quiet now ! He's a-doin' better," 
 He had a peremptory manner that Forrest did 
 not like. 
 
34 Brumnier-Boy of the liappaJuuuiock. 
 
 Tlie tramp made no furtlier move, and the 
 boat was quickly rowed ashore. The yachtsmen 
 and the tramp went at once to Skipper Bowser's 
 Ush-lionse. This had several bunks, and some 
 of the skipper's old clothes. A lire was kindled 
 in the furnace where the skipper boiled his lob- 
 sters. The tramp was put into dry clothes, and 
 packed in bed. 
 
 " You'd better come to my house, and my wife 
 will make you comfortable," said the skipper. 
 
 "Thankee! I'd rather stay here," was the 
 reply. 
 
 The yachtsmen also preferred to bunk in the 
 fish-house. They were left to themselves. The 
 light from their lantern glimmered a while 
 through the cracks in the old fish-house, and 
 went out. The beach was deserted by all vis- 
 itors. The fog covered the moon, and covered 
 the sea, while through the mist and along the 
 sands ran an indistinct, whitish line of surf. 
 
 In the windows of Skipper Bowsei-'s house 
 the lights burned awhile longer. The black- 
 smith. Captain Frye, went there to inquire about 
 the rescued ladies, and to report that he had put 
 Forrest to bed, who was " doing well." 
 
 " It's a mercy you were not all spilled into 
 the sea," remarked the captain. " No-Man's 
 Eock is not so generous generally." 
 
A Rescue. 35 
 
 " Yes, yes ; 'twas a mercy," murmured Mrs. 
 De Witt. 
 
 Captain Frye now did a little fifeliing. His 
 hand made a dive down into the interior of a 
 capacious felt hat, bringing up an immense red 
 handkerchief with which he wiped a face whose 
 size corresponded with that of the hat. It was 
 a homely face, reddened by many forge fires. 
 The blue eyes had lost their luster, and were a 
 species of violets that the rain had washed many 
 times and soaked the color out of. His hair was 
 only a thin, gray fringe around the base of his 
 head. This on top was bare as a cannon-ball, but 
 it was as honest a head as is often put together. 
 
 " I know how it is about father," Nanny had 
 said. " He is getting bald that his head may fit 
 all the better into his crown." The captain had 
 one of those big, spiritual natures sometimes 
 too unworldly for their best temporal interests, 
 but a great blessing to the world. " If he would 
 love his anvil as much as his Church he would be 
 amazin' rich," Skipper Bowser once said. Cap- 
 tain Frye had a frank, open nature, and as he 
 was guileless in his own motives he credited 
 others with the same sincerity. 
 
 " Mne tenths saint and one tenth sinner are 
 the portions that the cap'n mixes up in order to 
 make the average man," declared Skipper Bow- 
 
36 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 ser. " If he didn't mix the elements that way 
 he might not think so much of Skipper Bow- 
 ser," laughingly retorted his wife. Having such 
 a generous faith in human nature, the captain 
 was open at times to invasions of imposition of 
 various kinds, and the shrewder and more 
 worldly skipper declared that he " couldn't and 
 wouldn't see a r'yal nature abused," and would 
 try his hand at " protectin' his neighbor." Such 
 interposition only provoked a good-humored 
 laugh from the captain at the skipper's distress for 
 him, and it ended in the skipper's retirement 
 from the field leaving the captain " mixin' as afore 
 the proportions for humanity, nine tenths saint 
 and one tenth sinner ; takin' things more as they 
 ought to be and less as they are," declared the 
 skipper. 
 
 In. one direction, that of his God, the captain's 
 faith never disappointed him. " Great on the 
 knees ; great on the knees," commented the skip- 
 per. " He talks right to his heavenly Father like 
 a child who wants suthin' and will get it. Real 
 handy in prayin'." Dusky-face George declared 
 that " de cap'n's words wen' up jes' as easy as 
 smoke from de chim'ley. O, he has de power 
 in praj^er ! " This gift made all the more valu- 
 able the captain's love for his Church. When 
 people were dying, feeling round in the shadows 
 
A Rescue. 37 
 
 for a supporting, hand, they would send for the 
 captain to come and pray with them. Tough- 
 skinned old sinners, whose consciences seemed 
 past pricking, especially wanted the captain, 
 lie loved best to pray with little children and 
 old Christians. " They seem to stand nighest 
 our Father," lie would say. The captain was 
 eminently a peace-maker when men were well. 
 If any one could make enemies shake hands, it 
 was lie. And when men came to die, and needed 
 reconciliation to God, it was the captain who 
 seemed to have the spirit of the divine Recon- 
 ciler, and could use the apostle's words, " We 
 pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to 
 God." "If any thing fetclies me hum it will 
 be Mirandy Jane's livin' and Cap'n Frye's 
 prayin'," the skipper would say. The skipper 
 was an unbeliever ; a milder one, though, than 
 he somtimes classified himself. His wife was a 
 woman whose Christian disci pleship and daily 
 living went in parallel lines. 
 
 The night of the rescue, in the homes along 
 the rocky coast, and in the rough but sheltering 
 fish-house, all slept in jDeace. Before morning 
 there was a change in the weather. 
 
 Out of that mist, out of the noiseless air, was 
 born a storm. 
 
 " The wind has swung round to the nor'-east," 
 
38 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock . 
 
 said Skipper Bowser to his wife in tlie morning. 
 "Whew, Mirandj Jane! My sou'-wester 
 catches water hke a French roof. You see, 
 I've been down on the shore, and it's tough as a 
 gale in the Bay of Fundy. Gettin' to be dread- 
 ful howly down there." 
 
 There was, indeed, a furious uproar on the 
 sands, and every hour it increased. The waves 
 were like an immense battering-ram continually 
 driven against the shore, its head constantly 
 crumbling into the wildest, whitest, most turbu- 
 lent surf. One could see but a little distance 
 from the land, so thick and confusing was the 
 rain, and what there was to be seen was only a 
 wrathful turmoil. The waves angrily smote 
 their tops against one another, shattering into 
 foam, with dark somber hollows of green be- 
 tween wave and wave. 
 
 The two men, Griffin and Trickey, stood in 
 their oiled suits before the fish-house, and looked 
 off. 
 
 "What is that, Trickey?" 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " That ere black thing over there in the surf. 
 Depend on't, that is a part of our yacht ! She 
 is gone ! " 
 
 " Poor fellow — I wonder where our skipper 
 is!" 
 
A Jlescue. 39 
 
 " I don't know. I tliouglit of him when the 
 wind rose in the niglit." 
 
 " Afraid lie is gone ! " 
 
 " Afraid lie is gone ! " said Trickey's echo. 
 
 The two men stepped back to the fish-lionse 
 door, and there they stood, watching the wrath- 
 ful sea and wondering where their skipper 
 might be. The tramp was still in his bunk. 
 
40 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ONE SIDE OR THE OTHER. 
 
 IN" tlie midst of the prairie fires on Mrs. Bow- 
 ser's yellow and orange rugs, looking like a 
 martyr surrounded by the flames, but very 
 cheerful withal, sat the old lady rescued from 
 the yacht the night before. 
 
 " Pretty as a picture," thought Forrest, enter- 
 ins; and looking at her fair face with its aureole 
 of white hair. 
 
 "I thought perhaps you might need some- 
 thing this morning, and I stepped down to see 
 if I could be of any service, ma'am." 
 
 " O no, I thank you. We troubled you 
 enough last night, and we ought to trouble you 
 with as few wants as possible now. The wind 
 lias got into a new quarter, and the storm is 
 driving badly." 
 
 "Yes," he answered, dreamily. He was not 
 thinking of the storm. He was admiring the 
 old lady — her peaceful face, her fair complexion, 
 her snowy hair. And she was admiring him. 
 He stood before her in the freshness and the 
 
One Side or the Other. 41 
 
 strougtli of bis youth, the ruddiness of liealth in 
 his cheeks and tlie light of an entlmsiastic nat- 
 ure kindled in his eyes. Mrs. UeWitt was say- 
 ing to herself, " There is something in that 
 young man." 
 
 " Are you Capt. Frye's son ? " 
 
 He shook his head and merely said, "I have 
 always lived, or almost always, in the family. 
 My real name is Hooper, but I quite often call 
 myself Forrest Frye." 
 
 " May I ask you another question ? And you 
 won't think me impertinent, for you know we 
 old ladies have great privileges. Tell me what 
 you are going to do in the future." 
 
 Forrest smiled. 
 
 " I guess that remark will have to stand with 
 an interrogation point after it, for I don't know 
 yet myself what it will be. Judging from pres- 
 ent appearances, it looks as if it might be to 
 pound iron." 
 
 " What do you think you would like ? You 
 speak of pounding iron. Blacksmith ing is good, 
 but unless I am much mistaken, you are good 
 for something better." Forrest blushed at this 
 assurance, but the blush did not harm his good 
 looks any. His blue eyes lighted up, and 
 glowed like lamps inside thin sapphire globes of 
 glass. 
 
42 Drummer- Boy of the Rappaliannock. 
 
 " Come now," continued the old lady plcasant- 
 1}^ and encouragingly, " I aui a grandmotlier to 
 'most every body, though I am really grandparent 
 only to Belle, and a boy down South, her cousin. 
 But folks let me call them my grandchildren, 
 and you must be one of the family." Forrest 
 tliought he would like to be the grandson of 
 such a fine old lady. She went on : " What do 
 you think you would like to do ? " He hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 '' I think I would like to be a speaker and 
 writer. I would like to have power to move 
 the strongest thing in the world, and that is the 
 human will. It seems to me that to move peo- 
 ple, to make and shape people, is about as grand 
 work as one can ask for." 
 
 "Well, I think you can do it. AVhy don't 
 you have an education ? You have power in 
 you, I am confident." 
 
 Forrest blushed again. He was aware of his 
 embarrassment and frankly confessed it. 
 
 " I am not accustomed to so much encourage- 
 ment, and you must excuse my hesitation. There 
 is only one otlier person who says, as openly as 
 you, that I might do something." 
 
 "Who is that?" 
 
 " Nanny." 
 
 " Nanny ? A girl ? Ah, you can't trust 3'oung 
 
One Side or the Other. 43 
 
 girls as well as old ladies. Who is Nanuj ? Your 
 sister ? " 
 
 " She is the young woman living at Captain 
 Frye's, and is not my sister, of course, as she is 
 Captain Frye's daughter. She helped me row, 
 last night." 
 
 " Her name IS'anny ? She is a splendid girl. 
 If I heard her name, I had forgotten it. Well, 
 think over what I said, and if you can see your 
 way clear to obtaining an education, get it. I 
 think we are under obligation to make the most 
 of ourselves. When I was young I had an am- 
 bition to write, but in those days they were 
 afraid to educate the girls. They did not know 
 what kind of wild creatures they might let out 
 of their menagerie cages. People are fairer in 
 these days, and men and women have, or should 
 have, the like liberty of education." 
 
 "Captain Frye has an old acquaintance out 
 West who. is principal of a school, and he some- 
 times visits here. He once said he would help 
 me to an education." 
 
 " Think it over ; and 1 believe you have made 
 some friends this week who will give you a lift 
 also." 
 
 "What did she mean? She will help me; 
 that's what she means," thought Forrest. 
 
 He was silent a moment. Then he lifted his 
 
44 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannoch. 
 
 bright eyes. In that moment it seemed as if the 
 boy of seventeen had greatened into a man. 
 
 " I haven't told all ; and, to tell every thing, I 
 can't get over the feeling that I ought to go to 
 the war. I may not be old enough to carry a 
 gun, but they say I can beat a drum. I can't 
 get away from it, I hear it continually, that I 
 ought to go. That is the first thing to be done." 
 
 " You go to the war ! This awful, bloody 
 war ! " said the old lady, in surprise. 
 
 " Why, somebody must go. Now look at it. 
 In a house near by live two colored people, and 
 there are millions of them at the South whose 
 fate is bound up in this war. May be you 
 haven't talked with Cap'n Frye ? " 
 
 " About what ? " 
 
 " About the blacks. They call him an aboli- 
 tionist, that is, people 'round here. He doesn't 
 care what they call him. He believes God has 
 a great future in store for them, and he says 
 you've got to take sides in this thing. You've 
 got to be on one side or the other. But then, 
 the cap'n is always talking that way about tak- 
 ing sides. I tell you, whatever comes up, if 
 there is a right and a wrong to it, the cap'n 
 gets into his place pretty quick. ' Take sides, 
 Forrest,' he says." 
 
 " Well, is he willing you should go to the war ? " 
 
One Side or the Otlier. 45 
 
 " That is it. I tell him I am willing. I can 
 beat a drum. That will till up a gap " 
 
 Here came from a corner a sudden interrup- 
 tion. The speal^er was joung Belle De Witt. 
 She was gifted with a very interesting face. 
 Her blue eyes had a straight, incisive way of 
 looking into one, and suggested that a character 
 of much force and decision, was behind the eyes. 
 Forrest felt the power of those penetrating eyes 
 very quickly as she spoke and fastened a look, 
 playful, and yet very direct and significant, upon 
 him. 
 
 '' Couldn't you let us hear you beat the drum ? 
 We are going very soon, indeed, are expecting 
 the carriage any moment to take us to the rail- 
 road station," said Belle. 
 
 " You going so soon ! Well, I will get my 
 drum." 
 
 He left the room at once. 
 
 " What a boy he is ! " said the old lady. " I 
 like him." 
 
 On his way to the closet in the blacksmith's 
 shop, where he expected to find his drum, For- 
 rest abruptly halted amid the easterly storm. 
 
 He uttered one word, "Nanny!" What 
 would Nanny say to this exhibition of musical 
 talent ? 
 
 " She hates any thing like showing off," mur- 
 
46 Drummer- Boy of the Rapimhannock. 
 
 mared Forrest, "and she doesn't seem to enjoy 
 nij beating anyway. She says she doesn't want 
 to encourage the war. Encourage the war ! 
 How is my beating a drum going to encourage 
 the war ? And yet she says she believes in the 
 war. Women are queer tilings. Guess I'll get 
 my drum. 
 
 But Nanny, the plain-spoken, imperative 
 Nanny, had more power over him than he might 
 have supposed. Resuming his walk, he halted 
 again. He saw Nanny's eyes forbidding him. 
 But he saw another pair of eyes, and these 
 smiled and urged him forward. Which eyes 
 would prove the stronger ? Nanny's, or those 
 of the young woman at Skipper Bowser's ? 
 
 " O, it will be all right if I get it," declared 
 Forrest, and he went to the shop without further 
 interruption. When, however, he opened the 
 door of the closet holding the drum, no drum 
 was there ! 
 
 " That's queer ! " ejaculated Forrest. 
 
 Queer undoubtedly, and yet it was not 
 there. Neither could it be found anywhere 
 else. He looked into the closet and under the 
 closet, and tried to get back of the closet, but it 
 stood against the wall, and forbade rear inspec- 
 tion. He looked about the shop, in corners, on 
 shelves — every-where. He even went out and 
 
One Side or the Other. 47 
 
 lo<3ked on the roof, and then lie circumnavi- 
 gated the sliop. It did not prove to be a voyage 
 of discovery by any means. 
 
 " I know," lie said, " that I put it in the closet. 
 Yes, I am sure." 
 
 He here returned to the closet, as if the same 
 influence spiriting it away since yesterday might 
 have suddenly spirited it back again. 
 
 " She isn't there ! " exclaimed Forrest, and he 
 did not say it good-temperedly. "They are 
 going too ! Perhaps they are gone." 
 
 He hurried back, and at the door of Skipper 
 Bowser's there was a waiting carriage. Still 
 worse, it was a going carriage before Forrest 
 could reach it. He waved a hand to the driver, 
 who pulled in his horses, and at the same time an 
 old woman's face appeared at the carriage win- 
 dow on the side of the team opposite the wind. 
 
 " Good-bye ! " said Mrs. De Witt. 
 
 A bright young face with expressive, search- 
 ing eyes appeared beside the placid old one. 
 
 " Good-bye ! " said Belle. 
 
 " Good, good — " Forrest was stammering. 
 
 " Don't forget what I said about helping you, 
 and about being, you know, a kind of grand- 
 mother to you ; and that is where you will find 
 me," said Mrs, De Witt, reaching out a slip of 
 paper. 
 
48 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 The impatient hordes here gave the carriage a 
 twitch, and the driver suffered them to give a 
 second and a third, and away they went, quickly 
 bearing out of sight the phicid face and tlie 
 j)enetrating eyes, and leaving a youth whose 
 countenance was flushed with surprise and dis- 
 ajDpointment. 
 
 " Well, I have this slip of paper," thought 
 Forrest. " That may be of service. Yes, I 
 have it." 
 
 Rather, he did have it, but a provoking gust 
 of wind rushed upon it, and in another mo- 
 ment it was gone like the carriage ! Forrest 
 saw something fluttering out of his hands, a 
 wing rising up, and then — no one could say 
 whither it went, this wing without any bird. 
 The bird left behind was a very disgruntled 
 one. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 The wind did not seem to like this, for sud- 
 denly it lifted his hat, turning that into a wing, 
 and uncovering his luxuriant feathers, or locks, 
 rather, as rudely as possible. 
 
 " Let me get it ! Too bad ! " said a voice, 
 while long, heavy strides were taken by some- 
 body in the direction of the vanishing hat. 
 
 " There ! " said the tramp. " Take her ! " 
 
 " O, thank you ! " replied Forrest. " Some- 
 
One Side or the Other. 49 
 
 how you seem to be round just when folks want 
 you." 
 
 " O, do you think so ? " 
 
 It so warmed the heart of this seemingly 
 homeless tramp to think the cold world, or even 
 one individual in it, could possibly want him ! 
 A north-east storm was splashing his face with 
 arctic-like rain, but in spite of it a smile spread 
 over his rough countenance like light shed down 
 from a sunny sky. 
 
 " Think so ! " replied Forrest. " If it hadn't 
 been for you, last night, I don't think I should 
 have been here to-day. Ugh! It makes me 
 shiver to think of the cold bath I got last night, 
 and it came near being my last bath, too." 
 
 " O don't speak of that ! " replied tlie tramp. 
 And in an instant he was off upon another 
 subject. 
 
 '• Who was that old lady ? " he asked. 
 
 " A Mrs. De Witt." 
 
 " Where does she live ? " 
 
 Forrest was ashamed to say that he had a lit- 
 tle while ago a slip of paper that told him the 
 home of the old lady, but he would have con- 
 fessed it if a voice had not shouted through the 
 rain and the wind, " Coming ! " 
 
 It was one of the yachtsmen, hallooing from 
 the fish-house. 
 
50 Drummer- Boy of the Ilappahannock. 
 
 " Yes ! " replied the tramp, striding off toward 
 the fish-house. 
 
 Forrest turned into a lane leading to his home 
 at Captain Frye's. His thoughts went not for- 
 ward, but backward to that subject of the drum. 
 
 " Strange who took it ! I know ! I have 
 got it ! Nanny ! " said Forrest, stopping in the 
 muddy road. " She doesn't like to have me 
 drum nowadays. Says it makes you think too 
 much of war. Yes, it was JS^anny." 
 
 The nearer he came to his home, the more 
 convinced he was that Nanny had abstracted 
 that drum. When we try hard to turn an hy- 
 pothesis into a fact, it is astonishing what progress 
 we can achieve in making fools of ourselves. 
 
 "Yes, it was ISTanny," Forrest said confi- 
 dently. " That Miss De Witt didn't act that 
 way." 
 
 Then he recalled this fact : that at one point 
 in the conversation of that morning, Belle 
 De Witt turned toward him a face the brilliancy 
 of whose look was like the sudden shining of a 
 star out of a cloudy sky. He remembered, too, 
 that she held out her hand and said, " Mr. Frye, 
 I don't believe I thanked you as I ought last 
 night, and I shall not wait any longer to tell you 
 how much we feel indebted to you. You don't 
 know what obligations you put us all under 
 
One Side or the Other. 51 
 
 and we were so sorry to know you fell into the 
 water. Grandmother wanted to go and take 
 care of you." 
 
 The stars in her eyes now flashed upon For- 
 rest, and flashed through him also as he tramped 
 amid the rain, and the more vividly they shone, 
 the more emphatically did Forrest say, " It was 
 N'anny who took my drum. She hid it so Miss 
 De Witt could not hear me. I don't believe she 
 likes that Miss De Witt." 
 
 He did not stop to inquire how Nanny could 
 possibly have known that Miss De Witt wished 
 to hear a certain skillful drummer called Forrest 
 Hooper. When he had entered the kitchen of 
 the Frye house, he said, "Now, Nannj'-, what 
 did you want to take my drum for ? " 
 
 Nanny waa making preparations for dinner, 
 and was dipping her hands into a pan of flour. 
 It was a picturesque scene when Nanny was 
 cooking in that old-fashioned kitchen. There 
 was something in the very contrast between 
 this ancient room, with its big, brown beams 
 projecting from the plastered walls, every piece 
 of timber so old, and this worker at the bread- 
 pan whose aspect and movements all spoke of 
 youth. Nanny took pride in her appearance 
 not only in the parlor but in the kitchen. 
 
 "I'm going to cook," she would say, "and 
 
52 Dranimer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 I'll put on this," arranging a snowy white cap. 
 " Then I'll have on my white apron ; and father 
 says my bread is sweeter and nicer than that of 
 any body else, and he says it is owing to my 
 dress. So I'll put on this," and under her well- 
 shaped chin she would tuck a soft mull bow. 
 
 The dress she loved to wear was a light straw- 
 colored calico, overrun with a delicate green 
 vine. As Nanny had a clear, bright com- 
 plexion, these colors were in entire harmony. 
 Then she would turn back her flowing sleeves 
 from her plump, round arms, and no pair of 
 arras among all the young women in town could 
 work quicker or more successfully. Forrest was 
 generally accustomed to think, when he saw Nan- 
 ny at her work, " If Nanny knew how becoming 
 her dress was she would wear it all the time." 
 
 He did not say this now to Forrest Hooper, 
 but, bursting into the kitchen, he abruptly 
 flung out the charge, "Now, Nanny, tell me 
 where you put my drum ! " 
 
 If Nanny had met him in a style as warm and 
 ill-tempered as his, Forrest would not have felt 
 at so great a disadvantage. Yery coolly she 
 said, which warmed him up, " Your drum, For- 
 rest? " She said it in her sweet, silvery tones. 
 He might be a drummer, but she was a bugler. 
 
 " Yes, my drum ; now tell me where it is." 
 
One Side or the Other. 53 
 
 ISTanny was something of a tease. She began 
 to play with the young man as a cat would with 
 a mouse. Keeping those smooth, placid tones, 
 she asked : 
 
 " Do you really think, Forrest, I have taken 
 your drum out of your closet ? " 
 
 " Why, yes ; I can't find it." 
 
 "I did not remove your drum." 
 
 Forrest paused. 
 
 " Well, you know where it is. Perhaps you 
 did not take it, but you got some one to hide it." 
 
 "Forrest, Forrest," said the calm, silvery 
 voice, " I did not get any body to hide it. Now, 
 good brother" — she often called him by that 
 title — " I want some sugar from Gilljert French's 
 store. Won't you please get me some ? " 
 
 Forrest was not satisfied with Nanny's state- 
 ment, though he was much dissatisfied with 
 himself for making such hasty and abrupt 
 charges. He was vexed with himself, but he 
 could not long stay mad with Nanny ; a thing 
 which this young lady perfectly understood. 
 He in turn understood some things about Nanny. 
 He knew her turns of expression. He had learned 
 some of the methods of this picturesque cook, 
 and he had reason to suspect from lier tone and 
 air that she had not told every thing she knew 
 about the drum. 
 
54 Drummer-Boy of the Ea2'>paJunmoc7c. 
 
 " I don't feel like going after the sugar. Don't 
 feel sweet enough," lie was inwardly saying. 
 
 Captain Frye, though, hapj^ened to come into 
 the kitchen. 
 
 •' When I used to go to sea"— he had been a 
 master of a vessel, and this gave him his title— 
 " When I used to go to sea," he repeated, " I 
 didn't wonder if we sometimes «:ot out of things ; 
 but here on land, it seems, being so near your 
 place of supply, as if you never w^ould get out 
 of things. However, we do ; and, Forrest, we 
 need some sugar, if you will just step up to the 
 store." 
 
 Forrest had been trained to prompt obedience, 
 and, throwing a dissatisfied look toward that teas- 
 ing and yet fascinating cook, started at once on 
 his errand. Nanny did not raise her eyes. She 
 looked very demure and innocent, very sweet 
 and good, and silently she continued to thrust 
 her arms down into the flour. 
 
 It was half a mile to the store ^vhere Gilbert 
 French, a young man at least a dozen years older 
 than Forrest, did a thriving business. By the 
 time Forrest reached this store, planted at a 
 corner where two roads intersected, and made an 
 opportunity for the developing of a small busi- 
 ness center, he had seen sufficient people in the 
 road and the houses beside the road to turn off his 
 
One Side or the Other. 55 
 
 tlionglits from the subject of the drum and re- 
 store him to good humor. 
 
 Gilbert was alone. He was a small, grasping 
 soul. He was understood to be very '' fore- 
 handed," although still young; owning his 
 stock of goods and several houses, and a distil- 
 lery at a neat village called the " Port." For- 
 rest did not like him; partly because he was 
 Gilbert French, and also because Gilbert French 
 liked Nanny Frye. The young storekeeper 
 will be pictured in detail elsewhere. It is only 
 necessary here to think of him as a sharp, shrewd 
 man behind a counter, and about as sensitive to 
 what was fair and honorable as that counter. 
 His character was somewhat disguised under a 
 pleasant address and kindly toned voice, even as 
 the upper end of that same hard, unfeeling 
 counter was hidden under a long show-case, one 
 half filled with candy and the other occupied with 
 cake of various kinds. People that traded long 
 and intimately with Gilbert French, sooner or 
 later got through the candy and cake exterior, and 
 came to the real and abiding hardness of the man. 
 Forrest nodded to Gilbert, and said : " I want 
 four pounds of sngar ! " 
 
 " Good day, Forrest ! Brown or white ? " 
 " Brown, I guess, for cooking ; but you might 
 give me a pound of white." 
 
56 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 Gilbert's long riglit arm, clutcliing a scoop, 
 went down into a barrel of sugar. 
 
 " Hungry ? " asked Gilbert. 
 
 " Me % " said Forrest in astonishment. " Do I 
 look so?" 
 
 " Didn't know but that your wetting last night 
 would give you an appetite. They w^ere telling 
 me about it." 
 
 " I did get a wetting. Thought one time I 
 shouldn't come up again. I feel all right now." 
 
 " If it hadn't been for that tramp, where 
 would you have been this morning ? " said Gil- 
 bert, shoveling his sugar into the scales. 
 
 " I know it. I might not have been here if it 
 hadn't been for him." 
 
 " I asked if you were Imngrj^," said Gilbert, 
 throwing a quick glance at the cake in the show- 
 case, " for I have something first-class there, and 
 a prize goes with it. Got a ring in it ; that is, 
 in one of the slices." 
 
 "Who gets the ring?" 
 
 "O, the lucky one buying the slice. I sell 
 the cake for iifty cents a slice, and the ring, 
 well — I'll bet it is worth ten dollars at a fair 
 valuation. 'Twould be nice to have that ring 
 for a friend." 
 
 Forrest thought of ISTanny. It would look 
 pretty on one of her well-shaped, tapering lingers. 
 
One Side or the Other. 57 
 
 " I have thonglit myself of giving it — that is, 
 take the cake out of the case, and present the 
 ring to somebody living not far from you — ha ! 
 ha ! " said Gilbert. 
 
 Did he mean Nanny ? Of course he did. 
 
 " I'll take it—" said Forrest. He hesitated. 
 
 " You mean a slice ? Of course it may be in 
 that very slice. But it is only a half-dollar any 
 way, and you stand as good a chance as any 
 body." 
 
 As Gilbert spoke his fingers were sliding 
 toward the tempting loaf. 
 
 " Plold on ! " exclaimed Forrest. 
 
 " What say, Forrest 1 " 
 
 " I didn't think. I don't believe I like that 
 way of getting rings." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you have any scru- 
 ples about such a little thing as that? " 
 
 Forrest did not have any scruples at first, but 
 when he imagined himself offering the ring to 
 Nanny, over her shoulder he saw Captain Frye's 
 face and a rebuke was on it. Then came the 
 blacksmith's voice : " That is not right, Forrest. 
 Take sides ! " 
 
 And when Forrest heard that injunction, he 
 " took sides " at once. 
 
 " Yes," he said, bluntly, " I have scruples. It 
 looks like a lottery." 
 
58 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 Here Gilbert shut the case, leaned his long 
 form against a post, tipped back his head, threw 
 up his hands, and threatened to laugh himself 
 into convulsions. He stopped to slap his knees, 
 and scream, 
 
 "If lever! If I ever ! " 
 
 Then he began again to laugh, " Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 He concluded after a while to stop, and said, 
 
 " "Well, here^s your sugar ! Let's have a trade 
 somehow. Four pounds of brown sugar, and 
 one of white % " 
 
 "I can only pay for four. That's all the 
 money I brought, but I think they can't want 
 all brown." 
 
 " O, I'll charge for the white. That's a good 
 one ! Couldn't buy a slice of cake because 
 poor ! Haven't you any money ? I'll charge 
 that, too." 
 
 " No ! " said Forrest, and he made a short, 
 sharp, " no " of it. 
 
 " See here ! I want to give you some advice. 
 Don't lug that conscience round with you — the 
 Cap'n Frye conscience." 
 
 "Let me give you some good advice," replied 
 Forrest, warmly. "Don't lug that Gilbert 
 French conscience round with you." 
 
 " Gilbert French knows what he is up to," said 
 the storekeeper, with a cool unconcern. " He is 
 
One &kle or the Other. 59 
 
 going to look after his own interests, and see 
 others take care of theirs. Look at Caj^'n Frye ! 
 Growing poorer and poorer. That house of his 
 back in the grove — he does not hold on to it and 
 let it to folks that can pay something, but he 
 allows those niggers to go in there ; lazy, real 
 lazy, I call 'em ; and he doesn't get a cent for his 
 property. Why, next thing I expect to hear 
 from him is that he has gone to the war, and is 
 fighting for the blacks down South." 
 
 " No danger that you will go — " 
 
 "Me? I guess not! Them that made the 
 war may run it. I don't put my fingers in tliat 
 door-crack. Say, Forrest ! Why don't ijou go to 
 the war, if you think so much of the darkey ! 
 They say you are an awful good drummer." 
 
 Gilbert was cunning. He had been rubbing 
 the cat's back the wrong way until Forrest could 
 hardly speak in his indignation, and now Gil- 
 bert proceeded to smootli down the ruffled fur. 
 But Forrest was not ready for peace yet. He 
 had a very glum face. He shut up his tongue 
 between his teeth and sullenly looked on the 
 floor. 
 
 " You'd make a good drummer," said Gilbert 
 again. " Come, Fll make you an offer. If you 
 go, you shall have as handsome a uniform as 
 you can buy in the county." 
 
60 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 What ! Did Gilbert French mean this ? If 
 Forrest had thought into the matter, he would 
 have wondered whj Gilbert French talked that 
 way. He would have said : " Why does this 
 man want to get me to the war ? " 
 
 Gilbert's change of tactics was so rapid that 
 Forrest was not as prompt to make any inqui- 
 ries needing a careful answer. He regarded 
 Gilbert's talk as a kind of gasconade, for which 
 the storekeeper was famous. He did not then 
 think that Gilbert had any sincere purpose to 
 help him, or any body else, go to the war. 
 Some others in the neighborhood who were 
 watching Gilbert's business relations with the 
 blacksmith, and Gilbert's interest in E'anny, 
 could have thrown at least one candle-ray of 
 information on the subject of Gilbert's sud- 
 denly manifested desire to get Forrest off to 
 the war. Forrest, though, had an answer for 
 Gilbert, and the answer was a kind of meas- 
 urement of the boy's manly sense of htness; 
 " I am obliged to any one for interest in me 
 but I couldn't take any thing that would look 
 like a coaxinsj for me to g:o. What the ZQ\- 
 ernment gives — the old blouse — will be good 
 enough for me." 
 
 " Ain't ye going to ask for any thing more'n a 
 blouse ? " asked Gilbert, sneeringly. '- No ? I'll 
 
One Side or the Other. 61 
 
 tell yon — I'll tell you — what the trouble is with 
 you." 
 
 Gilbert spoke with what he intended should 
 pass for an impressive slowness. He pointed a 
 long, bony finger at Forrest, and this he purposed 
 should give an exceeding impressiveness to his 
 words. 
 
 " Boy, you — don't — dare — to — go — to — the — 
 war! You — are — afraid, you — are afraid!" 
 
 "Afraid! Just give me a chance! You'll 
 see who is afraid. The captain knows where I 
 stand. Just give me a chance ! He has never 
 been willing." 
 
 Forrest certainly did not look afraid of any 
 thing. His compact, sturdy form was stretched 
 as high as possible. His blue eyes snapped. His 
 face had just that resoluteness and defiance in 
 which good soldiery finds its inspiration. He had 
 thus thrown his head back unconsciously when 
 across that elevated countenance it was singular 
 what a changed expression was instantly flashed. 
 It was almost comical. His head tlms thrown 
 back, he had caught a sight of Gilbert's clock 
 on a shelf above his groceries. The hands were 
 about folding at twelve. Such a sleepily tick- 
 ing clock never provoked one to greater energy 
 
 "You don't say!" said Forrest. "Where's 
 that sutj:ar ? Twelve o'clock ! Whew ! " 
 
62 Dnuiimer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 lie seized the two packages and liiirried to tlie 
 door. As lie opened it, lie heard a laugh, and 
 the word also, " Afraid ! " 
 
 '' 1^0, sir ! " shouted Forrest, springing away 
 from the threshold. " I'll go if I have a 
 chance." 
 
 While in sight of the houses at the corners, 
 he walked ; out of sight, he forsook this deco- 
 rous gait and ran, saying, " What will Nanny 
 think ! " 
 
 He could at last see the old chimney of tlie 
 Frye house jutting above the well-known and 
 nmch-loved orchard belonging to the place. 
 
 " There's George ! '' said Forrest. " He has 
 just come out of his house. He is stopping and 
 looking at me. Wonder what he wants ! Won- 
 der if he w^ants to say any thing ! " 
 
 Yes, George wanted to say something. His 
 skin was very black, and the white of his eyes 
 and the red of his lips were in marked contrast 
 with that dusky background. 
 
 " Forrest," he said, " you miss yer drum ? " 
 
 " Why, yes, I can't find it," replied Forrest, 
 hurrying past liim, thinking not of the drum, 
 but of ]^anny's sugar. 
 
 " I jes' ax Nanny dis yer mornin' if yer would 
 jes' lemme an' that feller " 
 
 " The tramp ? " 
 
One Side or the Other. 03 
 
 " Jes' so — a — look at it. He were cur'us to see 
 de make ob it, an' Nanny tole me we mouglit, 
 an' 1 look at it jes' easy an' put it back on top 
 ob de closet. Forgot, ye see, to stick it in- 
 side " 
 
 " You did ? On top ? " 
 
 " Jes' so. You 'scuse it " 
 
 "0,yes." 
 
 Forrest was now hurrying through the side 
 door of the Frye house, George following him 
 to the threshold. 
 
 " Dat tramp sez he know you," cried George, 
 holding on to this fleeting opportunity for con- 
 versation. 
 
 "Well, I don't know him — only seen him," 
 replied Forrest, closing the door. 
 
 " There, Nanny," he said, laying the sugar on 
 the table, " Fm, sorry I didn't get here " 
 
 "Two packages?" 
 
 " One brown and the other white. You didn't 
 say what, and I got both." 
 
 " Then you had to charge one, for you didn't 
 have money enongii for both." 
 
 "Yes — I — I charged it, or had it charged," 
 replied Forrest, confusedly. 
 
 "O, Forrest! I thought you would under- 
 stand it was only brown we wanted " 
 
 " But you didn't say." 
 
G4 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannoch. 
 
 " I know it, but I was cooking and tliouglit 
 you would see. That Gilbert French " 
 
 She stopped, and looked toward a door open- 
 ing into the sitting-room, where Captain Frje 
 had been waiting for dinner and in the mean- 
 time sleeping over the Weekly Courier^ 2)ublished 
 at the " Port." Closing this door, she said, " I 
 don't want any thing more charged to father 
 there at Gilbert French's, not one cent. I had 
 rather go without sugar all my life. I don't 
 know, of course, every thing, but I do know that 
 father is in debt to him, and I am not willing 
 to give that scamp of a Gilbert French any more 
 advantage over father and " 
 
 How Forrest enjoyed this denunciation ! He 
 forgot all about the drum. He expressed 
 regret for the charging of the sugar. 
 
 " I'll pay it myself, l^anny. And any thing 
 charged, I'll have it charged to me." 
 
 " To you, Forrest \ " 
 
 ISTanny stepped back from the stove. She 
 had in her cooking used molasses for sugar, and 
 was now frying nuts in a pan on the stove. In 
 one hand was a knife, in the other a fork, A 
 fierce, unusual light snapped in her hazel eyes, 
 and she looked warlike as a Saragossan heroine 
 in the famous siege of the old Spanish city. 
 
 " Forrest, don't you come under any obligation 
 
One Side or the Other. 65 
 
 to Gilbert French, not for one cent. Remember, 
 lie is a bad man, and people don't know it. He 
 will have his hard, cruel hands on you just as I 
 ain afraid he has them on father. What did he 
 have to say to you this morning ? " 
 
 Forrest saw the threatening knife and fork, 
 and he mischievously enjoyed the thought that 
 Nanny's attitude must mean a warning to Gil- 
 bert French. lie could not help telling her 
 every thing. Somehow Nanny always came into 
 possession of his secrets. He told also about the 
 ring-cake to be sold in shares. 
 
 " O, how small and belittling for a man ! " de- 
 clared Nanny. 
 
 Then Forrest told about the going-to-war epi- 
 sode. 
 
 " And he led you to say you would go if you 
 had a chance, Forrest ? " 
 
 " That is how it ended." 
 
 " He ought to be hung," said Nanny, but she 
 did not say it aloud. It was the decision of a 
 judge giving sentence in the depths of the soul. 
 She could not speak. She turned to her frying- 
 pan, where the nuts of this neglectful cook were 
 not browning, but blackening. Silently she took 
 up her work and silently she pursued it. She 
 was busily thinking and intensely feeling. Once, 
 in passing her, Forrest touched her hands. 
 
66 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Why, Nanny, how cold your hands are ! 
 You sick?" 
 
 She shook her head. The blood was going 
 from her hands to feed the Hres kindled in her 
 heart. 
 
 She passed him again when he was helping her 
 in the removal of the dishes from the pantry to 
 the table. In a low voice, she said, 
 
 " Forrest, I'm sorry I teased you about your 
 drum this morninsr." 
 
The Tramp's Disgrace. 67 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 THE TRAMP'S DISGRACE. 
 
 THE storm-clouds liad emptied their fury on 
 the earth. These collapsed vapor-bags had 
 been rolled up and rolled away. The sun was 
 shining again. Tlie yachtsmen and the tramp 
 still occupied the fish-house, but it was under- 
 stood that in another day it would be vacated ; 
 for the yachtsmen were going home. 
 
 " I would Hke to have you stay behind a day 
 or two, to see if the captain of my yacht turns 
 up," Mrs. De Witt had told her men. " If you 
 prefer to stay in the fish house I will pay Skip- 
 per Bowser for any trouble it may put him to, 
 and here is money for your food and for your 
 fare home also. You will soon find out if the 
 missing skipper should turn up." 
 
 The missing one turned up. He had previ- 
 ously landed in his boat at a point from which 
 there was no re-embarkation until the storm was 
 over, and in the meantime he had permitted a 
 farmer to take care of him. When he appeared 
 on the shore, not far from Skipper Bowser's fish- 
 
68 Drummer- J3oy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 house, he was eagerly hailed by his fellow-yachts- 
 men, and they made him at home in what Trickey 
 was pleased to call the Hotel Bowser. The 
 question then arose, how soon they had better 
 take their departure, as Mrs. De Witt's wishes 
 had been met. It was concluded to start the 
 next day, leaving the boat in Skipper Bowser's 
 care. 
 
 " It will end probably in Mrs. De Witt's mak- 
 ing a present of it to you," said the yacht-captain 
 to the Skipper, and he proved to be a true 
 prophet. 
 
 That afternoon, who should be at the shore but 
 Gilbert French. 
 
 " He came like an evil spirit," JSTannj^ subse- 
 quently reported to Mrs. Bowser. " Forrest 
 was down at the fish-house and saw and heard it 
 all. Gilbert said he wanted help right away at 
 liis distillery, about shipping some barrels. He 
 looked 'round — just like a snake, I imagine — 
 told them they were all strong, fine fellows, and 
 he would give them a job for a few hours and 
 pay them well. Forrest said tlie tramp looked 
 sort of pitifully at him, as if wondering wliat he 
 had better do, and wanting Forrest, you know, 
 to advise. Gilbert wanted Forrest to go and 
 help trundle those old poison-barrels from tlie 
 distillery — " 
 
Tke Trcmip's Disgrace. 69 
 
 " And I don't believe be did, any more tban 
 Cap'n Frje would," remarked Mrs. Bowser. 
 
 " I guess not, Mrs. Bowser ! Forrest, as fatber 
 often says, ' took sides ' at once, and said no. 
 Gilbert didn't like it, and poobed at bim ; but 
 Forrest didn't care. Well, to make a long story 
 sbort, tbe men, wben tbey came back, brougbt 
 liquor witb tbem and were bound to bave a cel- 
 ebration, tbeir last nigbt in tbe fisli-bouse. Tbat 
 was tbe wbole matter in a nut-sbell." 
 
 " And you suppose my busband would bave 
 allowed it, if be bad known it ? I guess not 
 Nanny." 
 
 But tlie skipper did not know of this con- 
 vivial plan. Tbe storm bad cleared away, tbe 
 stars were out tbat evening, and be went to " tbe 
 corners " to transact a little business. About 
 nine, Forrest happened to be down on tbe shore. 
 He saw lights twinkling out of the windows of 
 tbe fish-house. He beard occasional roars of 
 laughter, and the ocean, as if in a convivial mood, 
 seemed to be roaring back in one loud, boister- 
 ous monotone. As Forrest stepped up to the 
 door of the fish-house, wondering when the men 
 had returned from the distillery, tbe door opened, 
 and out stepped Trickey. He spied Forrest 
 standing in the little sphere of light widening 
 out into the nio-ht. 
 
10 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Hullo ! here is the cutest boy in the world ! 
 Come in. We are tapping Gilbert French's 
 whisky. Come in ; you got to ! " said Trickey, 
 roughly. 
 
 His manner was offensive, but Forrest was in- 
 clined to enter, for he wanted to see what was 
 going on. He looked round with curious eyes 
 that absorbed every thing. 
 
 On the head of one of the skipper's old iish- 
 barrels were placed two bottles and several 
 glasses. A pitcher of water suggested weakening 
 for those who were thus inclined, but Forrest 
 did not see that any one was inclined to trouble 
 the water. There was also the traditional sugar 
 in a paper bag, and this was troubled. On old, 
 disused casks turned upside down sat the yachts- 
 men, while the tramp M'as in a corner. They 
 had not been drinking long, and the whisky as 
 yet did not have control of the yachtsmen's 
 brains, though the burglar had entered. The 
 tramp was noisily telling a war-story, but he 
 stopped when he saw Forrest. 
 
 " Come ! " he shouted, " get your drum ! That 
 is what we need ; that will put the war into 
 us." 
 
 " Thank you," said Forrest, " I guess not to- 
 night, if you don't care." 
 
 " Besides, if the war-element were needed," 
 
The Tramp's Disgrace. 71 
 
 he tlionglit, "the whisky would soon infuse 
 tliat." The company, save the tramp, did not 
 mind Forrest's refusal ; the tramp did care. Soon 
 he made another request, and in a tone which 
 was a bit peremptory. 
 
 "If you can't beat the drum, sing us a song." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed Forrest. " I would like 
 to sing, but I am not much of a hand at it. 
 They say at the house I sing best when I am 
 tnad, and I can't get mad in a company like this." 
 
 "No, no!" said Griffin. "You are right 
 there." 
 
 Griffin was a big, good-natured body that 
 Forrest liked. He disliked Trickey. 
 
 The tramp said nothing more at that time, but 
 he looked sullen. Forrest noticed that he drank 
 carelessly and heavily, while the others sipped 
 sparingly, as if conscious that they were kindling 
 a fire they might find it hard to put out. 
 
 Forrest still lingered, mostly because he felt 
 that the convivialists were on the edge of anight 
 of trouble, and he was wondering whether he had 
 better tell the skipper that his property might 
 be exposed to danger. While he tarried in this 
 undecided state the tramp called out to him, 
 
 "Take a drink!" 
 
 " Thank you, but I had better not," replied 
 Forrest, pleasantly. 
 
72 Dnunmer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 The tramp rose from liis seat uiDon an old 
 tub. 
 
 " Take it ! " he said, peremptorily, offering a 
 glass. 
 
 " Quiet ! quiet ! " called out Griffin. 
 
 " I want him to take it," insisted the tramp, 
 in thick, husky tones. 
 
 " Take it ! " angrily urged Trickey. 
 
 " O, no, I thank you," replied Forrest. 
 
 The tramj) scowled. His voice was any thing 
 but pacific. 
 
 " I command you. I have a right." 
 
 Forrest's blood was up, flushing his face, ting- 
 ling out to his finger-tips. 
 
 " You have a right ? " he replied, indignantly. 
 " I dispute that. I will not take any of your 
 whisky." 
 
 It was a vivid picture, that old fish-house, with 
 its motley contents of tubs, oars, barrels, boxes, 
 nets, and sails, the three yachtsmen in their trim 
 suits looking on in wonder, their glasses lowered 
 from their lips, while the tramp, angrily scowl- 
 ing, held out a glass to a boy nearing the age of 
 manhood, and already a man in his bold, defiant 
 attitude before temptation. 
 
 " You won't take this f Then take that ! " 
 
 shouted the tramp, lowering the glass in his left 
 hand, but raising his right arm to strike heavily. 
 
The Tramp's Disgrace. 73 
 
 Another moment and he would have struck, and 
 struck hard; violently ; but Griffin quickly rushed 
 up to him and forced him back. It seemed to 
 sober him — to wake him out of his intoxicated 
 mood into a momentary realization of what he 
 had done. He fell back into his seat, dropped 
 his head, and was silent, as if ashamed. 
 
 " Good-night ! " cried Forrest. " I think I have 
 stayed long enough." 
 
 Trickey would have stopped him, but Griffin 
 interfered, and Forrest retreated from the fish- 
 house, wondering if he had better report to 
 Skipper Bowser. 
 
 "1^0, I won't tell of them," he concluded. 
 " I'll stay up myself, and watch round, and see 
 that they do no harm — if I can." 
 
 He walked toward the skipper's home and 
 then came back to the fish-house. 
 
 " Why, it is dark ! Guess they have put out 
 the hght and gone to bed. May be ashamed of 
 themselves," concluded Forrest. "Don't hear 
 a sound." 
 
 JS'othing noiser than the wind about the 
 premises. Forrest went away, but soon came 
 back again. 
 
 " Don't see or hear any thing," said the watch- 
 man. " It must be all right, and I'll go home. 
 They are all asleep, probably." 
 
74 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 All asleep now. The yaclitsmeD, fearing 
 trouble if they prolonged their carousal, had hus- 
 tled the tramp into his bunk, and then each man 
 stowed himself away in his narrow quarters. 
 All quiet within. Outside, through the night, 
 the ocean kept up its noise like an over-vigilant 
 dog prolonging its growl until morning. The 
 yachtsmen were up early. 
 
 " Come ! " said Trickey, going to the bunk of 
 the tramp and shaking him out of a stupid 
 slumber. " Come ! Get up, if you want to see 
 us off. We take the cars this morning — going 
 to leave for good — and it will take a full hour's 
 walk for us to get there. Good luck to ye ! " 
 
 The tramp, sleepily muttering a remonstrance 
 at this interruption, arose nevertheless, and sat 
 on the edge of the bunk, watching the move- 
 ments of the men hastily stuffing their few pos- 
 sessions into two carpet-bags. 
 
 "Want to give you one piece of advice," said 
 Griffin to the tramp, who in a drowsy kind of 
 indifference sat on the edge of his bunk still 
 eyeing the yachtsmen. 
 
 " What is it ? ' asked the tramp. 
 
 "Just make things pleasant, if you're 'goin' 
 to stay round liere, and tell that young chap — " 
 
 "What chap?" 
 
 " Tliat one tliey call ' Forrest.' Tell him 3'ou 
 
Tlie Tramp's Disgrace. 75 
 
 didn't mean any thing when you pitched into 
 him last night." 
 
 " I didn't pitch into him.'' 
 
 "Ha! ha!" said Trickey. " You came pretty 
 near stretching him out straight and flat as a 
 ship's keel." 
 
 " Me ? " asked the astonished tramp. " I 
 don't remember." 
 
 "Of course you don't," said Trickey, teasingly. 
 'You know what they say about the wine being 
 in and the wit being out." 
 
 " Tell me what I did," he said, appealing to 
 Grifiin, who had a pitying look. 
 
 Griffin rehearsed the details of the affair of 
 the previous evening. The only response of 
 the tramp was a pitiful cry, 
 
 " I didn't do that ; did I ! O what a fool ! " 
 
 He threw himself back upon his rough bed, 
 and lay there in a mood of touching silence, his 
 eyes lixed on the black ceiling above him, not 
 seeming to notice when the yachtsmen left, or 
 when Skipper Bowser entered the fish-house 
 and took from it a pair of oars. 
 
 Later that day the skipper was at work in his 
 boat-shop. 
 
 " I am an amphibious bein'," the skipper once 
 said ; " workin' half the time on the water and 
 t'oth^- half on land. When I can't fish I can 
 
76 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 make boats, and wlien folks don't want to buy 
 boats I can fish." 
 
 The skipper's boat-house was at the foot of 
 his garden, and in the rear of the building 
 flowed a brook which came out of the grove 
 beyond the skipper's land. Twice a day this 
 brook was filled by the sea, which seemed to 
 rebuke the noisy but scanty stream of fresh 
 water rattling along the nigh-empty channel, 
 and silently rolled into it a big, dignified volume 
 of cold crystal from its limitless stores. When 
 the skipper wished by a trial-trip to test a re- 
 cently completed craft, he could quickly roll it 
 from the boat-house down to this stream, and at 
 high tide launch it. Opposite the dusty win- 
 dows of the boat-house, on the other side of the 
 stream, rose the farthest trees of the beautiful 
 grove of pine, here staying its march toward 
 the sea. 
 
 " It comes down fur enough," the skipper 
 had said, " to keep off the nor'-west wind. 
 Makes a reg'lar fence." 
 
 A beautiful fence, also, in whose lee the wild 
 flowers bloomed early, the birds sang raptur- 
 ously, while the sun laid a golden carpet on the 
 soft, grassy slope where Forrest and Nanny in 
 childhood had played by the hour. 
 
 The skipper was at his bench planing cf strip 
 
The Tramp's Disgrace. 77 
 
 of wood when he heard a step outside the door. 
 " That's Forrest ! " thought the skipper. " Wants 
 to talk with me about goin' to the war, I expect. 
 Folks all round are talkin' it over, and sayin' 
 that he is goin'." 
 
 He was about to crj aloud, " Come in, For- 
 rest ! " when the door swung back and there was 
 the tramp. The caller looked about the shop as 
 if to make sure that the skipper had no com- 
 pany, and then, nodding his head abruptly, 
 walked up to the boat-builder's bench. 
 
 " How-d'y-do ! " cried the skipper. 
 
 There was a contrast between the tramp, with 
 his abashed, self-distrustful, gloomy look, his 
 disordered, neglected, seedy dress, and the skip- 
 per, with his air of resoluteness, self-reliance, 
 hope, while his dress, thongh that of toil, was 
 tidy, and showed the marks of Mirandy Jane's 
 faithful needle. One man was like a vessel 
 trim and staunch, moored to-day in a good liar, 
 bor. The other was the hulk abandoned, and 
 drifting ont to sea. 
 
 Said the thing adrift, " You give me your 
 opinion % " 
 
 " Sartin— if I can. What is it ? " 
 
 If the skipper had known of the previous 
 night's drinking-bout he might have given an 
 opinion of the nature of a stirring rebuke, but 
 
78 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 lie was ignorant, and gave his attention to the 
 case in hand. 
 
 Chewing an oaken cliip, his favorite fashion 
 when meditating, he hstened to the tramp. 
 
 "What would you saj to something like this : 
 Supposing you had — well, we will suppose — a — 
 sister, say — and she was living, well — somewhere 
 on the coast, and — you — you — " 
 
 lie stopped. He could see from the window 
 near him a fishing-boat off in the river beyond 
 the marshes and struggling toward its port. 
 The wind was ahead and the boat that had 
 hoisted sail was trying to tack up the river. It 
 went this way and then that, staggering like a 
 drunken man every turn that it made to get on 
 another tack. Still it went ahead. The man 
 in the boat-shop trying to make out a statement 
 was, like it, struggling with difficulties. It was 
 a sailing up-river against a head wind. As the 
 boat shot forward, so he would make progress. 
 As she lagged or hesitated, he would pause and 
 drop behind. Then he would make a fresli 
 start, and beat forward once more. 
 
 " What else ? " asked the skipper, chewing his 
 chip and noticing the pause of the tramp as he 
 looked riverward. 
 
 " O ! " exclaimed this lagging vessel, starting 
 up once more. " Well, supposing j-ou two were 
 
The Tramp's Disgrace. 79 
 
 separated — you and that sister — jou know — and 
 you went away, but some time you — come back. 
 Well, she don't know you ; perhajDS she's young 
 and a-starting out and has friends who will help 
 her, and you turn up — you know — but nobody 
 guesses who you are and she don't know you — 
 and — you — just make a mistake. It's a bad slip, 
 you know." 
 
 He said "mistake," emphatically, and then 
 paused, his eyes fastened steadily on the boat out 
 in the river. The fishing craft — had it also made 
 a " mistake ? " There was a great fluttering of 
 its canvas, a violent commotion. ]^o, it was 
 only coming round on the other tack, and once 
 more bore away. 
 
 " Well ! " said the skipper, encouragingly, 
 « What else ! " 
 
 " O ! Well — you — make a mistake, we'll say. 
 Shall you own up to your sister who you are — 
 tell her, you know ? " 
 
 " Why, of course, man ! Didn't I come on 
 for that very thing, we 'spose ? " 
 
 " But the mistake. What you do ; some- 
 thing bad ! " 
 
 " O— yes ! " 
 
 "It might hurt her, disgrace her — put her 
 back, if her prospects among her friends were 
 good — and — " 
 
80 Drummer-Boy of the RfqypahannocJc. 
 
 He stopped. 
 
 "There she goes, round on the other tack!" 
 he said in a low tone. 
 
 " Who; that sister?" inquired the skipper. 
 
 " No, no ; I was w\^tcliing that boat." 
 
 " Well, what next, friend ? You are some 
 time getting into harbor." 
 
 The skipper chewed his chip rather impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Wouldn't it be better for 3'ou, under those 
 circumstances — those circumstances, mind ye — 
 when by staying you might hurt her prospects 
 — wouldn't it be better for you to clear out alto- 
 gether? You could come again, you know, 
 when you had behaved yourself, and might 
 fetch her something handsome. There ; she is 
 running along easily ! " 
 
 Yes, the wind had shifted so as to favor the 
 fishing-boat, and it was also helpful to the words 
 of the tramp, who then went on without the pre- 
 vious hitches in speech. 
 
 " The sister runnin' ? " asked the skipper, with 
 a puzzled air. 
 
 " That boat." 
 
 "O, yes; I see. Well, now I've got the case, 
 if you M^ant an opinion, I'll try to give it about 
 that sister." 
 
 The skipper picked up another chip. 
 
The Tramp's Disgrace. 81 
 
 " If — if I liad cut up so, as you say, and my 
 supposed sister didn't know it was me, and by 
 tellin' who I was it would hurt her, and I could 
 come ag'in, as you say, in creditable fashion and 
 fetch her suthin' han'sum, I think I sliould go 
 and fetch. It wouldn't hurt her feelin's if I 
 should clear out, you see, for she don't know 
 nuthin' about my bein' 'round, while if I stay, 
 and let on who I am, it would hurt her feelin's 
 to have me cuttin' up so, and might sort of hurt 
 her — her standin' among her friends. Then I 
 could come again, as you say ; come in good shape, 
 fetch suthin' han'sum, and it would be all right. 
 Plain case ! " 
 
 The skipper threw down the unchewed frag- 
 ment of his last chip, took up his phme, and 
 went to work on the strip of partially smoothed 
 board. 
 
 " A very mysterious case of yourn ! " said the 
 skipper, elevating one end of the board to his 
 eye, and then squinting along its edge. 
 
 The tramp said nothing for a moment, and 
 then broke out : 
 
 " It seems queer that people should keep on 
 making mistakes. When do you think we'll 
 get over making them ? " 
 
 "l^ever! Every now and then I do suthin' 
 to niyself with my tools — don't so much as 1 
 
82 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 used to — but it seems nat'ral to make a mistake 
 somewhere. I'll tell you what, friend ! " 
 
 The skipper looked hard at the tramp. 
 
 " What is it ? If we make these mistakes," 
 said the tramp, " isn't there a Power somewhere 
 that will overrule them ? Why does he let us 
 make mistakes?" 
 
 " You like to chew on them subjects ? " replied 
 the skipper. " Lemme give you a piece of xvl"^ 
 mind." 
 
 The skipper's voice sharpened. He had an 
 abrupt way of turning and looking at people. 
 It was not any thing done by this sincere skip- 
 per for effect. He scorned that ; it was only his 
 habit, but it gave an emphasis to his words. 
 What he said now was not on account of the 
 previous night's unseemly festivity. He was 
 still ignorant of this. He spoke his mind in 
 view of what the tramp was reported to have 
 said at the forge the night of his arrival. 
 
 "I'll tell you, friend, what I consider to be at the 
 bottom of the most of the mistakes of mankind, 
 and that is— drink. Git that rock out of the 
 channel, and most voyages would be smoother." 
 
 The tramp dropped his head and sighed. 
 
 " j^ow I don't believe in asking God to take 
 rocks out of the channel if we have sunk 'em 
 there ourselves. IS^ow I don't know whose mis- 
 
The Tramp's Disgrace. 83 
 
 takes yon want God to overrule, but if you have 
 come to ask advice for any of your friends, and 
 they have helj3ed put rocks in the channel, they'd 
 better be h'istin' 'em up themselves." 
 
 Then the little shop was very still. Just the 
 wind could be heard, muttering under the door, 
 saying something in a dismal way about the 
 return of the storm, and this mood was reflected 
 in the sky, which had drawn an ashy veil over 
 its face. 
 
 " Bad weather comin' ag'in," said the skipper. 
 
 " I must be goin'," declared the tramp, rais- 
 ing his head, and so suddenly that his hat was 
 thrown off and the scar on his forehead shown. 
 
 "See here! You got a pledge here?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " No ; I haven't that thing in the shop, though 
 1 believe in it." 
 
 " Couldn't you make me one ? " 
 
 The skipper seized a piece of red chalk. On 
 the smooth surface of a closet-door just above 
 his bench, he chalked down the short but pointed 
 pledge : 
 
 " We won't drink any more," 
 
 " Hadn't you better put God in ? " suggested 
 the tramp, modestly. 
 
 "Oyes! <Sohelpus— '" 
 
84 Dvumrmer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " * Our Heavenly Father,' " said the tramp. 
 
 The tramp chalked underneath, " Old Sol- 
 dier." 
 
 " That your full name ? " asked the skipper. 
 
 "Don't want to put my name there, but that 
 will hold. Now you said ' we.' You sign, too." 
 
 " I said ' we ' ? I meant to say ' I.' I will set 
 my name down if 't will do any good. I have 
 signed lots of 'em. There it is, ' Jerry Bowser.' " 
 
 " You said, ' so help us.' You pray." 
 
 " I can do the chalkin', not the prayin'. You 
 git herP 
 
 Tlie skipper pointed at ]N"anny Frye, who was 
 passing a window on her way to Mirandy Jane's. 
 This reference suggested something else to the 
 tramp. 
 
 " You tell her," he said. " And see ! you take 
 this, and put it in the bank for her and that boy, 
 and give it any time they need it." 
 
 The skipper could see bank-bills peeping 
 through the broken corners of a package in 
 soiled white paper. 
 
 " I saved that by goin' to the war," said the 
 tramp. 
 
 The skipper shook his head. 
 
 " O no ! I don't want to care for other folks' 
 money. Put it in yourself." 
 
 Here a sweet silvery voice at the opening 
 
Tlie Tramp's Disgrace. 85 
 
 door asked, " Isn't your wife at home ? I can't 
 find her." 
 
 " I guess you'll find her up-stairs somewhere 
 a-sortin' rags. She can't be up higher than the 
 garret, ]S"anny. That is high as folks can git in 
 this life." 
 
 " She might get out on to the ridge-pole," said 
 the tramp, softly, and unheard by the others. 
 
 " Folks can't go higher than the garret ? " re- 
 plied l^anny to Skipper Bowser. "Ah ! there is 
 no telling how high folks may go, in this life even." 
 
 Then Nanny disappeared, saying in her heart, 
 "]^ow that was only sentiment, and empty! I 
 thought I must say something." 
 
 But the tramp did not think it was empty sen- 
 timent, lie kept repeating it to himself as he 
 moved out of the shop into the yard, and then 
 into the road. A few minutes later the skipper 
 glanced out of a window that looked up the 
 road, and saw the little neighborhood cemetery. 
 On the crest of the hill, where tliis village of 
 the dead had been sleeping for years in the 
 shadow of the worn memorial stones, was Cap- 
 tain Frye's lot, and against the dark, forbidding 
 sky rose up the form of a man. 
 
 " Looks like that 'ere tramp," murmured the 
 skipper. " What's he want there, among the 
 Fryes ? Looks homeless and homesick." 
 
86 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 It was all that ; this one solitary, lonely form, 
 the grave-yard about him, the gray, gloomy sky 
 shutting down upon him. 
 
 " There he goes ! " murmured the skipper. 
 
 Yes, the black form was slowly creeping out 
 of the grave-yard. 
 
 "The most mysteriousest case," soliloquized 
 the skipper, still watching that receding iigure. 
 " He wonders what people are 'lowed to make 
 mistakes for. That is an old, old puzzle. 
 'Twill take a lot of cipherin' to make that out." 
 
 Yes ; an old question ; very old. We get into 
 sin, and then wonder why we ever did it, and 
 finally ask why somebody else — the strongest, 
 best Power in the universe — ever permitted it. 
 The figures lengthen, the problem grows more 
 intricate, and fortunate are we if, abandoning 
 it, we do not repeat the very error that started 
 US in the way of all these weary mathematics. 
 
A Mystery. 87 
 
 CHAPTEE y. 
 
 A MYSTERY. 
 
 THE next morning, George, tlie colored man, 
 came slniiiling excitedly through the woods, 
 and declared to Skipper Bowser, down by the 
 brook, that he had seen light at midnight in the 
 boat-shop. 
 
 "A light, George? You must have been 
 mistaken." 
 
 George reveled in the strange, the ghostly, 
 the unnatural. He wildly rolled his eyes about, 
 and asserted, 
 
 "Was kin' ob uneasy, an' got out ob my bed 
 an' went to de winder, an' saw, a iiashin' up in 
 your shop, a light. O — a light — a flashin' up ! 
 It went out an' she come ag'in — yeh — free 
 times ! " 
 
 " O, you were dreamin', George." 
 
 " But you kent dream wid yer eyes — eyes 
 open ! " 
 
 " Don't know about that, George. Some folks 
 see strange things by daylight." 
 
 The skipper would have seen a strange thing 
 
88 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 by matcbliglit if lie liad been in tbe shop at tbe 
 time George's eyes were so suddenly and extrav- 
 agantly dilated. On tbe skipper's work-bencb, 
 kneeling before tbe open closet-door, was tbe 
 tramp, for lie bad come back. 
 
 "Wanted to see tbis once more," be mur- 
 mured. Tben scratcbing a second inatcb be 
 read bastily : 
 
 "We won't drink any more, so lielp us our 
 Heavenly Fatlier." 
 
 Tbere were tbe signatures : 
 
 " Old Soldier. 
 
 " Skipper Bowser." 
 
 Tbe tramp smiled. For tbe moment bis feat- 
 ures came out of tbe darkness, and were ligbted 
 up. Tbe scar on the forebead was very dis- 
 tinct. Tbe keen, glistening eyes, tbe parted 
 lips, tbe nose prominently projecting, all were 
 tbere. It was not an inferior manbood tbus re- 
 vealed. Tben every tiling vanished. 
 
 " Want to see it once more," be murmured. 
 
 Another sharp, hasty illumination, and out of 
 tbe dark came again the eyes, mouth, nose, that 
 complacent grin, too ; while tbe scar on the fore- 
 bead was more ragged than ever. 
 
 " ' Old Soldier ! ' '' he murmured. " That looks 
 good. And she said 'there is no telling bow 
 high folks may go in tbis life even.' Ila! ha!" 
 
A 3fystery. 89 
 
 The match was soon a shriveled, black little 
 ember. Darkness threw its veil over the face 
 of the tram]), and crawling down from the 
 bench he stole out of the shop by the window 
 through which he had entered. He was soon 
 away, traveling hurriedly, the sound of his steps 
 muffled by the mud in the road. 
 
 The skipper never could keep any thing from 
 his wife. If at any time he purposed to keep 
 any thing from all the world, and lock the secret 
 up in his bosom, nevertheless he gave a key to 
 Mirandy Jane. He now told her all about the 
 tramp, and about the money which the latter 
 offered to place in the skipper's care, subse- 
 quently to be given up to Nanny and Forrest. 
 
 " I thought it not best to ketch hold of that 
 offer, Mirandy." 
 
 " 1^0, no ! No tellin' where the money come 
 from. You want to know all about it. Look 
 out for a man a-trampin' round doin' nothin' ! " 
 
 "While they were talking, Forrest entered. 
 
 "Forrest," asked the skipper, "how would 
 you like to be rich some time ? " 
 
 Forrest laughed, and replied, " Just now I'd 
 rather have your hand-saw than all such chances." 
 
 " That what you come over to borrow, For- 
 rest?" 
 
 "That is it, I think." 
 
90 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " You may have it. Take and use it all yon 
 want to." 
 
 Forrest went out into the boat-shop to find 
 the handsaw. The skipper had a peculiar way 
 of fastening the door; a way that effectually puz- 
 zled strangers, but no mystery to Forrest. He 
 thrust his hand into a hole, and pulled on a hid- 
 den string that raised a little latch on the inside. 
 Entering the shop Forrest spied the window 
 that the night-visitor had left open. 
 
 "Ah! skipper didn't shut his windows," re- 
 marked Forrest. " And what is that ? " 
 
 He saw a package in a soiled cover. Open- 
 ing it he found a nice little pile of bank-bills. 
 
 "Yes; and this slip of paper near it," he 
 murmured. 
 
 On the paper was a roughly penciled message, 
 which Forrest carelessly glanced at: "I want 
 you to put this money in the bank for those 
 young people ; and on another piece of paper I 
 put my address, and if you want my name, 
 write to that address and it will be given 
 you." 
 
 But where was the other piece of paper? 
 Forrest could not find it on the bench, or below 
 it, or anywhere else. 
 
 " Queer ! " exclaimed Forrest. He searched, 
 but could not find. Conscious that a stronoj 
 
A Mystery. 91 
 
 draft of air was setting tlirongli the window, 
 Forrest turned and saw that he had left tlie 
 door of the shop open. A sudden gust aroused 
 him to the necessity of promptly closing the 
 door. The wind strengthened. It became a 
 violent charge. When Forrest closed the door, 
 he was obliged to make quite an effort. Eeturn- 
 ing to the bench where he had been standing he 
 could find neither slip nor bank-bills. 
 
 "Queer!" he said. "Real queer! Where 
 have they gone? That's strange." 
 
 Yes, very; but Forrest could not solve the 
 mystery of that disappearance. He looked and 
 looked every-where, except in the right places. 
 One of these was a hole near the window-ledge. 
 The wind was hustling away the package of 
 bank-bills and the single slip of paper. When 
 this hole was reached the bank-bills tumbled 
 down into it. The slip being lighter was swept 
 still farther, and blown out of the window. 
 
 "Whew!" declared Forrest. "This is a 
 scrape ! Wonder whose money it was. O dear ! 
 must I tell the skipper 1 " 
 
 Certainly. And his better nature advised im- 
 mediate telling. Stepping outside the shop, he 
 caught the sound of carriage-wheels. Looking 
 up he saw that the skipper and his wife were 
 going to market. 
 
92 Drummer-Boy of the Puippahannock. 
 
 " I had better tell him now," said Forrest, 
 starting off on a run. " What a scrape ! " 
 
 He raised his voice and shouted : 
 
 '' Skip — per Bowser ! " 
 
 But for some reason, at that time, the skipper 
 saw fit to be bawling at his old horse, and the 
 wind thought fit to rush at Forrest and attempt to 
 blow his voice out to sea. None of it certainly 
 reached the skipper, or, if it did, he confused 
 it with the notes of another kind of being in an 
 adjacent field. 
 
 " Seems to me them calves make a lot of noise 
 to-day, Mirandy Jane," he observed to his wife. 
 
 " They make a horrid noise," replied his wife. 
 
 " Well," thought the unsuccessful Forrest, " I 
 can do this : cut across this pasture, and head 
 him off." 
 
 He got along very well until he reached a 
 four-barred fence. 
 
 " I'll leap this," declared Forrest, noticing that 
 the skipper's horse was making excellent time. 
 He got along very well in that jump until lie 
 reached the top rail. Here one of his feet struck 
 the rail, and over he went, and down he came in 
 a heap. 
 
 " Disgusting ! " cried Forrest. " And I have 
 sprained my foot ! I'll give it up, and see the 
 skipper when he gets back." 
 
A Mystery. 93 
 
 This ended the chase after the market-partj. 
 He went home thinking. It was not a com- 
 fortable thinking. He shrugged his shoulders. 
 He scowled. He shook his head. 
 
 " Don't understand the meaning of the thing 
 on the slip," he murmured. " And that money ! 
 Was it the skipper's? O dear! Of course it 
 was ! Don't I wish I had never gone after 
 that old handsaw! Wonder where the bills 
 went, and what, too, became of that piece of 
 paper ! I looked everj-where for that slip, and 
 the bills, too. I looked outside and in." 
 
 He did look outside, but not far enough. A 
 mischievous outside wind, one that searches 
 every-where, and notices every thing, had found 
 the missing slip, had puffed at it playfully, and 
 then given it a vigorous push, a second, a third. 
 Whirling over and over, the slip finally caught 
 in a depression in the bank of the stream, and 
 there lodged. The tide was coming in from the 
 sea, and the water steadily deepened in the 
 brook. There came a visitor at that time. 
 
 "Why, look!" cried Nanny, to herself, 
 chancing to visit the place on her way to dis- 
 charge an errand at Mrs. Bowser's. " See that 
 paper which the water almost touches — and will 
 touch, next thing! Yes, the water lifts it, almost 
 cai-ries it off — will do it, the next time ! " 
 
94 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 The next moment there was a stronger pulse 
 of the stream, a more forcible detachment of the 
 paper, and off it went. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " laughed Nanny, when she saw 
 this feat of the tide. " The paper has gone on a 
 voyage — ha ! ha ! " She would not have laughed 
 about the little craft if she had known its char- 
 acter. 
 
 This vessel was swept to and fro as the tide 
 impelled it, but how much trouble would have 
 been saved to Forrest Hooper and others if 
 she had arrested its course, if she had brought 
 it ashore, if she had opened and examined the 
 paper vessel ! ISTo, she left it to its fate, and 
 the tide took possession of and determined its 
 destinies. Backward and forward, idly swept 
 this paper voyager, nobody caring, hardly any 
 one heeding. The tide came and went, care- 
 lessly, persistently, without rest or mercy, and 
 did what it pleased with the nnresisting paper. 
 If somebody had only picked it up and read 
 it! 
 
 The bit that was its companion, containing a 
 nmch needed address, was to be found some day, 
 but not that day. 
 
 When Nanny returned home, after an unsuc- 
 cessful effort to find Mrs. Bowser, she was met 
 by Forrest at the door. 
 
A 3fystery. 95 
 
 . Such a dejected look as he wore ! 
 
 "Why, Forrest, what is the matter!" asked 
 Nanny, 
 
 " Nanny, I am in a scrape," said the wretched 
 being. 
 
 " How so 1 Tell us about it." 
 
 That comforted Forrest. Somehow Nanny's 
 silver-voiced invitation to tell his story helped 
 him at once. 
 
 " There, poor boy " — this comforted him still 
 more — " tell your grandmother all about it." 
 
 Forrest was now laughing. He stood up be- 
 fore the stove, thrust his hands down into his 
 pockets, and began : 
 
 *' Well, Nanny, I don't know but what I have 
 been the means of losing the skipper an awful 
 pile of money — " 
 
 Nanny said nothing, but she gave a start, and 
 her eyes lengthened and widened as if they would 
 make a big round O ! It was more effective 
 than if she had said it even, and Forrest noticed 
 it. 
 
 " Too bad, Nan, too bad ! I feel all cut up 
 about it," 
 
 Nanny recovered herself; "Poor fellow!" 
 she murmured. 
 
 Helped again, Forrest resumed his confession. 
 
 " You see, I went into the skipper's shop this 
 7 
 
96 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 morning and saw some bank-bills lie left on his 
 bench — sort of done up in a piece of paper 
 and a slip of paper near it — and while I was 
 looking — the window was open and the door too, 
 you know — what should happen but a great wind 
 came along and just took — O, it was a tremen- 
 dous draught — 'bout took me off my feet — ha ! 
 ha—" 
 
 He was trying to give a comical turn to his 
 narrative, which was a method sometimes inter- 
 esting and amusing to Kanny. It did not relieve 
 the soberness of her thoughts now, and Forrest, 
 who' sharply noticed every turn of expression, 
 saw it, and at once was as sober as she. 
 
 " Well, Nanny, when I came back to the bench 
 every thing was gone, bills, paper, every thing ! 
 I looked all 'round, out-doors, in-doors, and not 
 a sign of the skipper's money could I see ! It 
 went, and every bit of paper with it." 
 
 •'How much do you suppose it was?" said 
 Nanny, in a hollow tone of voice, and she said 
 it abstractedl^y, as if her thoughts were in part 
 on another subject. She was wondering if her 
 savings in a certain bank would offset the skip- 
 per's loss. 
 
 " O, Nan," answered Forrest, his voice sink- 
 ing till it was lugubrious as hers. " I don't know. 
 I saw the top bill, and I know it was good for 
 
A Mystery. 97 
 
 ten dollars, and it was on a bank in Drew- 
 ville." 
 
 " Do you suppose they were all ten dollar 
 bills?" 
 
 " Awful if they were, Nan ; but I don't 
 know." 
 
 " How thick was the heap ? " 
 
 " O, I couldn't say. Perhaps so — thick." 
 
 " And all tens ? " they both said, in their 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Have you told the skipper ? " she asked. 
 
 " Wliy, no ! That is the rub of it. If I could 
 have got hold of him and told him I should have 
 felt bettor, but what did he and Mirandy do but 
 go to market ! Well, I chased them, and tried 
 to jump a fence — and — and — " 
 
 He saw a smile twinkling in ]N"anny's eyes, 
 and light flashed out of his own at once. He 
 appreciated liis opportunity. It was coming 
 closer. She was smiling more and more. 
 
 " And sure as you're a born Frye, T^an, if I 
 didn't go sprawling over that top rail — ha ! ha ! 
 ha!" 
 
 Ev^ry thing went here — Iran's soberness, For- 
 rest's anxiety — and into a loud, merry, ringing 
 laugli they both burst. O, it was a brave, cheery 
 laugli, there in the old kitchen, where poverty, 
 debt, and anxiety confronted both, while Forrest 
 
98 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 was facing sliame and disgrace, possibly. It was 
 yontli, then as now, overflowing in its resources 
 of vitality, vivacity, and audacity, in its igno- 
 rance confident, and in its confidence willing to 
 stay ignorant. Youth then, like youth to-day, 
 that says the night is short, and that morn will 
 soon come, that welcomes the battle, burns to be 
 in the forlorn hope, sees only victory, and if 
 there be one glimpse of death, cries, "Let us 
 die! Immortality is on the other side." There 
 are some old people who still have this spirit 
 and therefore are young. They drink of the 
 waters of fadeless youth. 
 
 In the old Frye kitcQien there was youth defy- 
 ing the rugged steep and the storm and the 
 night, saying it would laugh, and be happy, and 
 conquer all obstacles some time. 
 
 They laughed till the tears shone in Nanny's 
 eyes, and Forrest thought, 
 
 " How handsome her eyes are ! " 
 
 And Nanny ; what did she do ? 
 
 Gradually she grew quiet. 
 
 The luster, though, was in lier eyes, and in 
 her voice were hope and courage. Another 
 element came into that voice. She said in her 
 most sympathetic tones : 
 
 " Don't you worry, Forrest ; we will stand by 
 you and help you." 
 
A Mysitry. 99 
 
 That multiplied Forrest's resources wonder- 
 fully. He felt as if a big world were on his 
 side. His enemies might be numerous ; he was 
 strong and he would defy them all. 
 
 An hour later he saw Skipper Bowser and 
 his wife coming down the road in their old red 
 wagon. They were behind the same horse that 
 seemed to Forrest almost vicious in its speed that 
 morning, but, tired out by a long pull, it went 
 sheepishly enough now. 
 
 " My time has come ! " groaned Forrest, in- 
 wardly. " I suppose I must go and see the skip- 
 per." 
 
 He called out, " Think of me, Nan ! I'm go- 
 ing to see the skipper now." 
 
 " Good luck, Forrest." 
 
 He went out of the house slowly but deliber- 
 ately. He sauntered down through the yard. 
 He went out into the road slowly still, yet stead- 
 ily on. 
 
 "He doesn't want to go," thought J^ann}'-, 
 who knew all his movements and watched them 
 now from the window. " And yet he is going. 
 I suppose that's the way he might go into bat- 
 tle, not wanting to, and yet resolutely, beating 
 his—" 
 
 She paused. She did not want to say " drum." 
 Then she exclaimed, " Nonsense ! " and, turning 
 
100 Drummer-Boy of the Fuippahannock. 
 
 round, she seized a broom and flourislied it in the 
 most vigorous way, sweeping in unnecessary 
 places and an unnecessary number of times, 
 driving the dust before lier energetically — as if it 
 were tlie whole Confederate army. She could 
 not accustom herself to the idea of Forrest's go- 
 ing to the war. 
 
 But Forrest was not going to war just now. 
 He was attempting something harder ; he was 
 going to see Skipper Bowser and tell him that 
 Forrest IIooj)er had lost an untold amount of 
 money belonging to the skipper. Forrest went 
 over the route of the morning, crossing the same 
 field ; and how easily he now cleared that four- 
 railed fence ! 
 
 " I would like to make the skipper's old horse 
 jumjD that fence ! " said Forrest, savagely. " He 
 would know how good it was, and would hold 
 on when folks wanted him to stop. Ah, there 
 is the skipper ! " 
 
 The skipper was leading his " Old Billy " 
 into the stable, and Forrest — followed him 
 promptly ? No, he was glad to linger outside, 
 and draw from the well for Mrs. Bowser a 
 bucket of the sweetest, coolest, most crystal 
 water in the world. He drank, too, several 
 times. Then he went to the stable-door and 
 hesitated on tlie threshold. He stooped to pick 
 
A 3Tystery. 101 
 
 up and then masticated a piece of barley-straw. 
 Finally, wishing lie was down at tlie war, where 
 you can't get this fugitive, troublesome money 
 so easily, he entered the stable. Skipper Bowser 
 was in the depths of a dusky stall combing Old 
 Billy's hide, which, after the winter, was quite 
 furry. 
 
 " Stand still, I ax ye ! " he was shouting. Then 
 came something sounding like an emphatic love- 
 pat administered with the back of the currycomb. 
 
 Forrest groped his way round to the back of 
 the stall. 
 
 " I might as well begin now as any time," he 
 said, coughing out of his throat several lumps 
 that had developed there suddenly. 
 
 " Skipper ! " he said, feebly. 
 
 "Stand still, I ax ye," the master of Old 
 Billy was shouting. 
 
 " Skipper ! " Forrest began again. 
 
 " O, that you, Forrest ? This critter is bother- 
 in' me. I want to make him look handsome 
 enough to go before the king, and he's got the 
 oddest fit ; acts like a cow milkin'-time." 
 
 This last derogatory remark seemed to have a 
 quieting effec' on Old Billy, for he ceased his 
 capers and acted like any other being that is 
 ashamed. 
 
 " Skipper, I —I am dreadful sorry, but I am 
 
102 Drummer-Boy of the Riqj2^a]Lannock. 
 
 afraid — I have lost some money for you — " 
 Forrest was saying ; but the skipper interrupted 
 liim. 
 
 "Lost for me? " inquired the skipper, raising 
 the curry-comb in wonder, and looking aston- 
 ished across the furry back of Old Billy. " 1 
 haven't lost any money that I know of." 
 
 " Haven't missed any ? " 
 
 " IS'ot yet ! Pickt up some, have ye ? " 
 
 "Well, Skipper, it was this, way — and I'm 
 dreadful sorry, but I will make it u]>, every cent 
 —and if I go to war you shall have every cent 
 of my pay." 
 
 "O we won't talk about that," said the skip- 
 per, " and I don't know, any way, what you 
 mean." 
 
 " Well, Skipper, it was this way." 
 
 Here Forrest began to detail the finding of 
 the bank-bills and their subsequent disappear- 
 ance. As he proceeded in his story the skipper 
 gradually retreated from the stall, beating the 
 brush against the currj'-comb, and finally stood 
 out in the open space between the hay-mows, 
 listening in wonder to Forrest's story. 
 
 "Don't know a thing about it," he cried. 
 " Haven't left a cent there ! You saw something 
 on a paper about d(?positing some money, and 
 somethins: about an address ? " 
 
A Mystery. 103 
 
 " Why, yes, sir, but I didn't read it carefully, 
 for I thought it was none of my business." 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know nothin' about it." 
 
 " Then it — it — wasn't none of your money ? " 
 
 " Why, sartin not." 
 
 From Forrest's back seemed to have rolled a 
 mountain ! It sank, too, into a sea of such exceed- 
 ing^ depth ! He felt that he must go home at once 
 to tell Kanny, making even better time than 
 when he started to chase Old Billy in the morn- 
 ing, for he cleared easily the four-barred fence. 
 With a bound and a shout he entered the old 
 Frye home, calling, "Hullo! Nanny, hullo!" 
 He found and told her ; and also from her back 
 rolled a mountain. 
 
 " O I'm so relieved, Forrest," she cried. 
 
 She had been thinking whether she had better 
 not " go out washing " to earn money enough to 
 make good the skipper's loss. 
 
 One back, though, took on a load, not of wor- 
 riment, but wonder, and that was the back of 
 Skipper Bowser. 
 
 " George says he saw a light in my shop 
 a-liashin' up all of a sudden, and then it was 
 gone," he reflected. " I s'pose that was when I 
 was out in the shop with the lantern — went out 
 rather late — and that big-eyed darkey saw 
 it. Whew ! Wouldn't it be a scrape if the 
 
104 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 owner of tlie money should come and demand 
 it?" 
 
 Then the skipper's fancies changed abruptly. 
 He began to question whether the money so 
 mysteriously appearing to lorrest and so ab- 
 ruptly disappearing might not yet be in the 
 shop. 
 
 He hunted and Forrest hunted, sifting shav- 
 ing-heaps, looking on top of shelves, hunting 
 among the strips of boards piled on the beams 
 overhead, for the skipper said, " Wind might 
 liave taken her anywhere ! " 
 
 All this time the money was hiding at the 
 foot of a sheathed wall back of the skipper's 
 bench. Only the thickness of a board between 
 the money and the eagerly-searching hands of 
 Forrest and the skipper! The only thing of 
 paper touched by any of those hands was a slip 
 found by the skipper, and simply saying, " Send 
 to Grand Street, New York, No. ." 
 
 That was all. 
 
 The skipper started to throw it out of doors, 
 but refrained. 
 
 "Guess I'll stick it on this shelf; maybe 
 suthin' I want myself," concluded the skippei-, 
 laying it on a shelf back of his bench. " I'll put 
 \i— there:' 
 
 Lucky he did. 
 
A Beating Drum, 105 
 
 CHAPTER yi. 
 
 A BEATING DRUM. 
 
 SINGULAR liow differently two windows 
 affected Nanny. 
 
 "Rub-a-dub! Rub-a-dub!" 
 
 Tliat was wliat Nanny lieard at one open win- 
 dow ; a resonant, echoing rattle of drum-sticks in 
 tlie hands of Forrest. 
 
 " I don't want to hear you ! " she exclaimed. 
 *' You make me nervous; you get me out of 
 sorts ; I'll shut you down." 
 
 Down came the window. 
 
 On the opposite side of the room was another 
 window, and it was open. 
 
 " Hark ! " said Nanny. 
 
 "Ding! Ding! Ding!" 
 
 A church-bell was gently swinging, off in the 
 distance, and through the window stole its 
 hushed, musical echoes. 
 
 " That helps me. That quiets me ! " thought 
 Nanny, as she stood at the window. "I love 
 that little church." 
 
 Yery little was it, but it had a great influence 
 os^er her. 
 
106 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 It smoothed away the wrinkles of worriiiient 
 in her face and brought out a look of rest. It 
 was doing the same thing, in many ways, often 
 in her life. Sometimes the shepherd of the 
 flock in that communitj^ would conie to the 
 church and gather his own for a little season of 
 prayer by day, and the bell was ringing a warn- 
 ing for her. The church was isolated in its posi- 
 tion. A cemetery adjoined it. This cemetery 
 climbed the rise of ground beyond the church. 
 It seemed as if the church ought to have been on 
 the little rise, looking down npon and watching 
 over the resting dead. Then the church might 
 have been nearer also to the homes of men. 
 
 " Too far to go to," said the yawning Gilbert 
 French, Sunday morning. "I can't get there. 
 Feeble. They must bring the church nearer." 
 
 JSIanny did not feel that way. 
 
 "Now, I like," she said, "to have the church 
 where it is, where just the birds and the trees 
 and the graves are. Seems like something to 
 retire to, a place away from my daily cares and 
 daily thoughts, and I can go to it and rest there. 
 I don't sympathize with what they say Gilbert 
 French believes in, a church so near he can step 
 into it." 
 
 Deep down in her heart there was a devoutness 
 in harmony with that now softly echoing bell. 
 
A BeatliKj Drum. 107 
 
 "I will go over to Mrs. Bowser's and see if 
 she's going to any of the services to-da}^," said 
 Nanny. 
 
 She found Mrs. Bowser in tlie little house 
 where those two worthy souls, Jeremiah and 
 Miranda Bowser, had lived over a quarter of a 
 century. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Xanny. It was begin- 
 niu' to feel lonesome," said a woman of lifty-iive 
 years of age, looking up through her spectacles. 
 
 "Lonesome!" said Nanny Frye, vigorously. 
 "Xast place in the world that seems lonesome 
 to me." 
 
 Here Nanny looked about her. It was a di- 
 minutive spot, and only a kitchen, and yet it 
 had an indescribable air of cosiness and comfort. 
 Out of the resources of long-continued house- 
 keeping came the little patches of home-made 
 carpeting covering up bareness, and those little 
 devices — like a cushion in a chair — taking away 
 hardness. 
 
 " We seem to be purty much by ourselves, 
 Jerry and me, down here," remarked Mrs. Bow- 
 ser. " A leetle too much at one side." 
 
 " Yes — " said Nanny, in a tone of assent, and 
 yet suspending her voice as if something unsaid 
 might be added on the other side of the argument. 
 
 On the north side of the kitchen was a single 
 
108 Driimnier-Boy of the Ilappahaniiock. 
 
 window. From it conld be seen three build- 
 ings, strung on the line of the country road soon 
 lost in the cool surrounding depths of the green 
 forest. Of these tliree buildings one was Nan- 
 ny's home ; a second was the blacksmith-shop, 
 whose anvil was daily smitten by Nanny's father, 
 Captain Frye ; a third was the little church 
 near the cemetery. After a while one reached 
 the small settlement at the " corners." It was 
 limited, but the world in that direction did 
 have some size. But when Miranda Bowser 
 looked out of the windows in the southern wall 
 of the little kitchen, where had the world gone? 
 If it had ever been thei-e at all, it now certainly 
 liad disappeared, leaving behind a narrow lane, 
 some leafless apple-trees, and beyond these a 
 creek bordered in summer with green marsh- 
 grass. 
 
 Ordinarily this creek ran into Deep River, 
 that with much boldness twice a day charged 
 down from the " Port " upon the ocean, carry- 
 ing with it every possible re- enforcement of 
 water from creek and ditch, and then twice a 
 day retreated, in horror running back to the 
 hills, all its allies gurgling back into their old, 
 muddy channels. Ordinarilj'^, beyond the mouth 
 of Deep River was as blue an ocean as can be 
 found anywhere this side of Italy. To-day, 
 
A Beating Drum. 109 
 
 though, there was a curtain of pjraj fog across 
 that blue ocean, completely hiding it ; across the 
 mouth of the creek too, hiding Deep River. 
 
 Nanny did not care. It only increased the 
 feeling of seclusion. This hour was a kind of 
 porch to the quiet hour of prayer at the church. 
 Mrs. Bowser promised to go with Nanny, and 
 then the conversation changed to another sub- 
 ject. 
 
 "I don't see. Aunt Miranda, what makes you 
 so quiet and self-controlled all the time." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 
 "Think! I know!" 
 
 " You don't know what is goin' on inside, 
 dear. That makes up for any thing outside." 
 
 Aunt Miranda had, indeed, a very placid face ; 
 but while every body saw that, they could not 
 look within and know how hard sometimes was 
 self-control. 
 
 "Well, whatev^er it is you hav^e got, I wish I 
 had it. I am so emotional and nervous ! I speak 
 quick and act quick. Ten minutes after, and 
 less time, when I think it all over I am so sorry 
 that I did not have better control of myself ! " 
 
 Mrs. Bowser did not say any thing, and ISTanny 
 went on. 
 
 " Now, lately, I have broken out, as I call it, 
 and am sorry for it. I did so to the tramp 
 
110 Druniiner-Boy of tJie Rxppahannock. 
 
 when lie was here. Then Forrest stirs me when- 
 ever he talks about going to the war, and, if 
 yoirll beheve it, Aunt Bowser, I did 'break 
 out' to the window this morning! " 
 
 Here Nanny let out one of her bird-like 
 laughs, that went softly flying about the room 
 as if it had very downv wino-s. 
 
 "I heard his drum at the window, and I 
 couldn't stand tliat. Now I know. Aunt Bow- 
 ser, you don't break out that way. You don't 
 fly at windows and things and people. You 
 keep your feelings down, and your feelings 
 in. And 1 think it is one of the greatest 
 possessions that can come to one, just to — just 
 to — possess himself; hold himself in control. 
 O, I think it is grand to see one whom people 
 rush at and attack, and stir up, and all the while 
 he is calm and collected, and shows he is the 
 grand master. That is splendid ! I can almost 
 worship such a character." 
 
 Here Mrs. Bowser said softly, " ' Who, when 
 He was reviled, reviled not again,' " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I remember him. "We can, we 
 do worship him." 
 
 " Well, dear, I don't know what to say. I 
 don't think we can succeed unless we catch his 
 spirit, and try to live near him, and live like 
 him, and live in him. I don't want you to 
 
A BeatiiKj Dnint. Ill 
 
 tliink I have had good success, for I sometimes 
 feel as if it was the ocean inside uie tliat is toss- 
 in' and heavin'. IS'o, no !" 
 
 Here Mrs. Bowser siglied. 
 
 "Ever since tlie morning Huldali went 
 awaj — " 
 
 "AuntHuldah?" 
 
 "Yes, your father's sister, who — " 
 
 "O dear! I have sometimes thouglit what would 
 happen if Aunt Iluldah should come back ! " 
 
 " O, I guess she won't ! " 
 
 " But she has an interest in the house. She 
 has a right to live in two of the rooms. Father 
 can't sell the house without her consent. I have 
 heard him say that to that vulture Gilbert French, 
 when he has wanted to take the house off father's 
 hands." 
 
 " O, she won't come back. Well ; it was the 
 mornin' she went off, I was agoin' to say, and I 
 met her, and asked her when she'd be back, and, 
 sez she, ' When I do you'll know it. You'll find a 
 chalk-mark on your door.' I laffcd, and, sez I, 
 " You needn't leave it.' The laff— it was thought- 
 less in me — seemed to stir her up, and then she 
 stirred me, and — well, I won't go into perticku- 
 lers, only I was surprised to find what was in 
 me, and — and — I am sorry to say it — it came out 
 —and—" 
 
112 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Now, Aunt Miranda, I don't doubt but that 
 she was to blame." 
 
 Mrs. Bowser shook her head. 
 
 " N"o, no, Nanny ; I'm goin' to carry my share 
 of the burden. I was mortified with myself 
 Avhen I thought it all over. No, I am not going 
 to have yon put me on a p — p — pe — destal, and 
 think I'm better than yon." 
 
 " But you are," said Nanny, flying at her im- 
 patiently, and throwing her arms around the 
 chubby Bowser, "and when I am tempted to say 
 quick things and sharp things, I am going to 
 think of you and stop. There ! Now, when 
 you are ready we will go to the church and 
 enjoy it together. That bell gave warning 
 some time ahead." 
 
 It was a very restful hour in the little 
 church, when the pastor met his flock. His 
 petitions for them sank into a deep place in 
 Nanny's .heart. He prayed for the weak- 
 hearted, that they might be comforted, for the 
 strengthening of all who stood, and the raising of 
 the fallen, and that every one might get Satan 
 under foot. 
 
 That prayer stilled Nanny's nature. "He 
 never would say so if there was not hope for 
 such blessings," she thought. "I like that 
 prayer." 
 
A Seating Drum. 113 
 
 She had told the tramp as much as that in tlie 
 first cliapter of tliis storv. 
 
 For some reason, she thought of Aunt Hul- 
 dah several times. Aunt Huldah ! She was 
 once the inharmonious element of the family 
 and in the neighborhood. Somehow she was 
 out of joint with almost all her kindred and ac- 
 quaintances. When slie went awaj to be' a 
 teacher sometimes, and at other times a nurse, 
 nobody had regrets, for she had made every 
 body sorry who had known her. She had had 
 trouble with the Bowsers and every other 
 neighbor. She was like the hub of a wheel 
 whose spokes are all dislocated, that hub touch- 
 ing spokes on this side and that side, and yet 
 none of them are firmly and evenly in place. 
 "Wherever in domestic or social relations Huldah 
 Frjfe touched, there was a dislocation. There 
 was one exception. Gilbert French was that 
 exception. Somehow her peculiarities amused 
 him, or else he affected amusement. Why 
 Huldah Frye should come into the thoughts of 
 any in the Frye neighborhood that day, who 
 could say ? And why should her tall, lank fig- 
 ure throw its shadow across ISTanny's thonghts 
 in the little church? That, too, was a mys- 
 tery. 
 
 "I won't think of you, Aunt Huldah," 
 
114 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 said Nanny resolutely. " You are nowhere 
 near here, and I am not going to think of 
 you." 
 
 So she gave her mind to the touching peti- 
 tions in the prayers, to the music from the little 
 organ played by the milliner at the " corners," 
 to the red roses and white lilies in the church 
 windows, to the old pastor with his white hair, 
 and patient face, and slow, deliberate words, 
 Mr. Millbury. Every thing within her seemed 
 brought into delightful subjection at last. In 
 peace she left the church. In the hush of 
 deeper, more quiet thought she passed the 
 grave-yard. When she neared the old farm- 
 house, she exclaimed, " What a look of rest it 
 has ! " 
 
 She saw her father in the doorway as she 
 came near the house. 
 
 " How kind," she thought, " to step to the 
 door and welcome me ! 
 
 " Is'anny," he said, a peculiar expression 
 sweeping across his face, "your Aunt Huldali 
 has come ! " 
 
 That moment it seemed as if the whirlwind 
 entered I^anny's soul, and before it went in 
 confusion the hour of prayer and all its attend- 
 ant peace, all its restful associations, like the 
 quiet clouds in a summer-sky before the hurri- 
 
A Seating Drum. 115 
 
 cane. But Miranda Bowser did not find a 
 chalk-mark on lier door. Aunt Huldali had 
 forgotten. Aunt Huldah had had a sea of 
 trouble, amidst which her old, unkind purpose 
 was buried. What a blessed thing it is that 
 we forget sometimes ! It may be well for us, 
 and far better for others, that we have a " short 
 memory." 
 
116 Drummer-Boy of the Rai^pahannock. 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 MUST BE A SOLDIER. 
 
 *^"nUB-A-DUB! Rub-a-dub!" Forrest's 
 
 \Sj drum was sounding out in the road. It 
 came nearer and nearer, and soon Nanny heard 
 it on the door-step. Then the door was thrown 
 open, and the sharp, echoing rattle of the war- 
 like drum-sticks invaded the kitchen where 
 ISTanny was pursuing the peaceful occupation of 
 bread-making. 
 
 " O Forrest ! " she cried, '' your Aunt Tluldah 
 has got a headache." 
 
 He stopped. She was almost sorry she 
 stopped him, for Forrest was a handsome lad, 
 and an unusual excitement lighted up his feat- 
 ures into a strange beauty. 
 
 "I wanted to tell you, Nanny," he said peni- 
 tentially, a very subdued expression toning down 
 the luster of his eyes, and dulling the flush on 
 his face, " I wanted to tell you, Nanny, that 
 it is all decided, and I am going to tlie war. 
 Father says so." 
 
 "O Forrest!" 
 
3Inst Be a Soldier. 117 
 
 That was all she said, and laid her hand on 
 her heart, while the big tears swam in her 
 eyes and the color left her cheeks. She stag- 
 gered. 
 
 "You sick?" he asked, springing forward 
 and supporting her. 
 
 " 0—0— no ! " 
 
 " The air is close here, Nanny ! That is it. 
 You have to spend so much time here cooking 
 for Aunt Huldah, and nursing her and waiting 
 on her — just like an angel — you, I mean — " 
 
 " O don't say that ! Ilush, here is father." 
 
 lie came into the kitchen just as N^anny 
 sank into a cliair. He did not seem to notice 
 Xanny's condition. He did see Forrest's drum, 
 and he sat down beside it. He took out his 
 rod silk handkerchief, which, like its owner, 
 was much worn, and much tlie worse for the 
 wearing. 
 
 "Forrest said he would tell you, Nanny," 
 began Captain Frye, " and told me he was going 
 to do it with his drum — " 
 
 Nanny nodded her head. 
 
 " Then he has done it ? " remarked the black- 
 smith, wiping his forehead, " he has done it. 
 Well, I seem to think it is for the best, Nanny." 
 
 It was singular that while he spoke to Nanny 
 he did not face her. He turned toward the 
 
118 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 window as if an invisible Nanny were out- 
 side and looking in ; another and disembodied 
 Nanny. 
 
 " Yes, for the best, Nanny. You see, we must 
 take sides about this war. Either we must sup- 
 port it or stand aside and let it drop. You see, 
 there is too much involved not to take sides. 
 There is a country to be supported and to 
 struggle for. There are slaves to be made free. 
 Gilbert French thinks I am an abolitionist, and 
 I glory in it. Why is a man put into this 
 wo]"ld unless he is to try to make it better? I 
 should be ashamed if I made a bundle of my 
 conscience and left it behind me in a corner 
 when I went out." 
 
 The blacksmith was forgetting any personal 
 sacrifice for the war in tliis enthusiastic cham- 
 pioning of a principle. His voice became 
 strong and full, and he gesticulated earnestly. 
 The voice stopped and broke, though, and tlie 
 lifted arm fell when he said, " There must be 
 sacrifices, though. We must all give up some- 
 thing for the sake of so good a cause. I wish I 
 could go myself, Nanny," he still faced the 
 window, " for it is a good cause. I can't, 
 though. I am too old a man. But Forrest — " 
 His voice quivered. He hesitated. 
 
 " Foi-rest says he can go. He is not afraid, 
 
Must Be a Soldier. 119 
 
 ]ie says. He has told Gilbert French, who 
 seems to have — " 
 
 " Gilbert French !" broke out Nanny. "He 
 is at the bottom of this. He lias been daring 
 Forrest. He has been talking it np in the 
 neighborhood — he — " 
 
 Kanny's hands were clinched as if to strike. 
 
 Forrest now broke in, " Guess I have had 
 something to say about it ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes !" resumed the blacksmith. "All 
 that Gilbert French has said wouldn't be worth 
 that — " here he snapped his fingers — "if For- 
 rest was not interested himself. The boy, I 
 know, has thought it all over. He has taken 
 sides in the matter. He believes in taking the 
 right side. I feel proud of his principle. If I 
 were young, I believe I should go myself. Of 
 course, we shall miss Forrest, Nanny. I have 
 found him -awful handy in the shop— and he has 
 been a good boy — and — and — " 
 
 What was it now coming between the black- 
 smitli and the window ? A sndden rain, a mist 
 from the sea? Was the thought of Forrest's 
 going suddenly oppressing him ? Nanny looked 
 lip. She could not see her father's face, but 
 Forrest could see it. Captain Frye did not 
 lower his head, did not lift his tightly held 
 handkerchief to his eyes, for he was making a 
 
120 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 strong effort to control bis feelings. The tears 
 brimmed liis eves. His face was working con- 
 vulsively, but was stifHj upright, set in its 
 gaze at that window. There was a painful still- 
 ness in the old kitchen. Suddenly, the black- 
 smith arose. He seized the boy's hand. •' For- 
 rest, you've been like a son. We shall miss you 
 awfully and — we — we — but I can't say what I 
 want to ! Be a good -b-boy— and take God with 
 — with you ! " 
 
 The blacksmith dropped Forrest's hand, and, 
 covering his face with his handkerchief, ruslied 
 out of the room. 
 
 Forrest heard Nanny sobbing too. What 
 had he done? He felt like a murderer. He 
 felt, too, the misery of parting from those he 
 loved best. He had not reckoned on this scene. 
 He had been swept along to a decision, borne 
 on a current of patriotic feeling. Of course, he 
 must leave those at home, but he did not realize 
 how painful the parting might be for them, and 
 he began now to feel twitches of pain on his 
 own account. The old kitchen, would he not 
 miss its warm shelter? Soldiers were forced to 
 put up with any kind of bed, or do without one 
 altogether, endure hunger, and go on long, hard 
 marches, perhaps be shot and horribly muti- 
 lated. Would any N'anny or Captain Frye, 
 
Mast Be a Soldier. 121 
 
 whom lie called " father," be near him in the 
 extremities of suffering, perhaps death ? All 
 this now came to him, rushed upon him and 
 over him, and like a current from the cold At- 
 lantic chilled him. O what a forlorn, wretched 
 being ! Making others so miserable, and so un- 
 happy himself ! What awful thing had he done ? 
 That drum, how guilty it looked ! Had he bet- 
 ter not kick it, rush it out of sight, jam his foot 
 through its offending head ? O what a wretch 
 was Forrest Hooper, sometimes known as For- 
 rest Frye ; as if really the son of that good, warm- 
 natured, noble-hearted blacksmith ! 
 
 " I don't want to go," he muttered, " sure I 
 don't, if I am going to make you all so miserable, 
 Nanny." 
 
 " Forrest, dear," she whispered, '' you come 
 out to the Lion with me ! " 
 
 The Lion was not an animal of flesh and 
 bko 1, but mere earth and grass and trees. It 
 was a hill that rose back of the house. It had a 
 long slope down to the shore. Once it was cov- 
 ered with a pine forest. All the trees on the 
 hill had been cut away except those on the 
 western third, its highest quarter. These rose in 
 a shaggy clump, projecting like a lion's head 
 with its bushy mane. Back from this clump 
 sloped very gradually, evenly, gracefully, a 
 
122 Drummer-Doy of the Rappahannoch. 
 
 stretch of pasture land reaching down to tlie 
 shore. To one upon the sea, the whole looked 
 like a lion crouching. Somebody called it •■• The 
 Lion," and by that name Forrest and Nanny 
 knew it. Up on the Lion's head, on a rock un- 
 der a pine, they had. often sat, watched the 
 wide, sparkling sea, and talked about the ves- 
 sels going by with white, lifted wrings. When 
 a storm was coming on, they would sometimes 
 climb the Lion's neck and from this rock look 
 off upon the anger of sea and sky. In their 
 youthful trials they might come here to discuss 
 them, for in the pines whispering behind them, 
 or the sea roaring before them, they would hear 
 a voice saying over some mysterious counsel. 
 Slowly now they went out to the Lion. Both 
 had the thought, neither expressed it — would 
 they man}^ times more chmb the old hill ? 
 
 Since childhood the hill-path had been often 
 beaten by their feet. That they were not brother 
 and sister has been previously indicated in this 
 story. 
 
 Forrest Hooper had been in the house of 
 Nanny Frye's father almost as long as she had 
 been. Skipper Bowser had told her the story 
 over and over again. " Cap'n Frye and I had 
 been down on the shore one evenin'. It was a 
 still night, kind of a sleepy-feelin' night, and the 
 
3Iast Be a Soldier. 123 
 
 waves kept beatin' the time sort of softly on tlie 
 beach, as if they wanted to put yon to sleep. The 
 cap'n and I were passin' the house where George 
 and Lizzy now live, and we saw in the moon- 
 liglit a man and a woman sittin' on the door- 
 step, and the man had a bundle in his arms. 
 'Friends,' says the man, 'nobody seems to be 
 livin' here, and can you tell us of a place where 
 we might stop? We've been travelin'.' Your 
 f ether owned tlie house, and it was jest like him to 
 speak up and say, ' You can go in here and stop. 
 A bed is there and a lamp, at any rate.' I felt 
 a leetle resky 'bout admittin' strangers too freely, 
 but, bless me, your fetlier would go out of his 
 bed any night for a tramp, when it would be 
 like me to get out in the mornin'. The cap'n 
 let' em go into the house, and I follered. The 
 man opened the bundle, and there was the 
 tintiest but purtiest baby I ever seed. ^Yell, 
 them folks stayed there a spell, for tlie woman 
 was taken sick, and grew sicker right straight 
 along. She was a gentle crittur, and when 
 dyin' the cap'n promised her that her boy 
 should not want fur a hum. So the cap'n took 
 the baby and brought it up. The fether took 
 the wife's death veiy hard. Finally, he said it 
 was lonesome stayin' there, and he would go to 
 the western mines, and when he earned suthin' 
 
124 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 lie would come back and get the baby. But 
 those western mines, bless us ! As I tell 'em, 
 you take out stones and leave your bones. For 
 a long while he wrote, but never in good luck. 
 IS'obody knows where that man is. He's bleach- 
 in' out there, I 'spose, at the foot of the Rockies, 
 like some other miners." 
 
 Although Captain Frye took the little babe 
 into his home he did not actually adopt it, as he 
 had scruples of conscience in the matter. Some 
 time the father might return for the boy, he 
 said. 
 
 J^anny recalled the skipper's story as she and 
 Forrest now climbed the Lion together. How 
 many memories were revived ! As the sea and 
 the islands and the coast-rocks all disappear in 
 tlie dark and seem to be lost, but in the moon- 
 light come again, stretching out, rising up into 
 prominence in the moonlight, so tlie past some- 
 how appeared to her as it had not before for a 
 long time. Forrest and Nanny Frj'e had been 
 brought up together as brother and sister. That 
 they were not, they plainly knew. When Nan- 
 ny was about fifteen her mother died, and al- 
 tlumgh a housekeeper came into the family, 
 Nanny's capability and tact gave her promi- 
 nence in the home, and she was accustomed to 
 do for Forrest many things that naturally fall 
 
3fust Be a Soldier. 125 
 
 to an older sister. Bj the time that Nanny was 
 seventeen she assumed the care of the house, 
 assisted by a servant-girl. As the years had gone 
 on, Nanny's care for Forrest increased. " I am 
 so needy, such a beggar, Nan," he would say, 
 " that I can't possibly get along without you." 
 
 It was Nanny who cared for his clothes— sew- 
 ing on buttons, closing up rents, darning stock- , 
 ings. It was Nanny who knew just the herb, 
 bundled and swinging from a garret rafter, that 
 would charm away Forrest's headache or fever- 
 turn. It was Nanny who knew what table deli- 
 cacies would please Forrest, and could cook 
 them better than any one else ; a power that 
 brings hungry and dependent man down to the 
 feet of woman. It was Nanny who trimmed 
 Forrest's room in autumn, and made it gay as a 
 maple forest with her wreaths and crowns and 
 stars and crosses and anchors. It was Nanny's 
 clear way of seeing things, her decision and 
 prudence, that made her such a good counselor 
 for Forrest in trouble. It was Nanny who was 
 almost every thing to Forrest. Little by little, 
 Nanny came to feel that Forrest belonged to her. 
 She had not thought of the future, and it seemed 
 as if things must go on after the old fashion 
 always, she and Forrest living together as sister 
 and brother, she caring for him and he depend- 
 
126 Drummer-Boy of the Rapimhannock. 
 
 ent on lier. But somehow, tlie patli that had 
 been wide enough for two suddenly became too 
 narrow, and it was dividing into two paths, one 
 stopping at home, winding about the old farm, 
 down to Skipper Bowser's, out along the echo- 
 ing shore, up here on the Lion. The other path 
 shot off, far off, into a niystei'ious war-world, 
 across battle-lields, into hospitals. Nanny did 
 not like to follow in thought this path any longer. 
 Would she, though, hold Forrest back from it % 
 He had a brave, generous nature. She admired 
 his daring. She praised his quick, ready choice 
 of the right when he was placed between the 
 right and the wrong. She knew he was heeding 
 a noble, unselfish princiiDle in wanting to go to 
 the war, though she did not like Gilbert 
 French's interference. Had not JSTanny con- 
 tinually stimulated Forrest to attempt great 
 things, though she had never named them in 
 detail? She had been preparing him uncon- 
 sciously for this very hour. Would she now 
 hold him back? At last, out of the tumult of 
 feeling in her soul, these questions arose : " If 
 you really love your country, you will now sac- 
 rifice for it, will you not? If Forrest must sac- 
 rifice, you will make it easy for him, will you 
 not ? " These questions went down to the pro- 
 foundest depths of her soul and stirred them. 
 
Must Be a Soldier. 127 
 
 At that word " sacrifice," Nanny's nature was 
 swayed as a willow by the wind. It was 
 deep planted in her nature to do for others. 
 It was something in her Christian life that un- 
 der the influence of the Holy Ghost nnist have 
 a new growth, a new blossoming, a new fruit- 
 age. Was Nanny sincerely striving in her life 
 to illustrate that law of sacrifice forever trans- 
 figured in the light and glory of the cross? Her 
 illustration of it had seemed so dim and blurred 
 and unworthy. Would she refuse the new 
 summons? She answered this question while 
 walking up the liilL She decided it then, while 
 the cool sea-w^'nd was blowing on her heated 
 cheeks. Forrest might take the new path. She 
 would help him. And if the two paths di- 
 verged, never to meet — Nanny did not com- 
 plete the supposition. 
 
 They had reached the rock under the pine 
 and sat down. The sea was noisy. 
 
 " I should think the sea would be tired of 
 this continual roar, roar," said Nanny, " but it 
 never is. I should think it would stop some- 
 time." 
 
 It does stop, with each wave that breaks and 
 rolls out its life into foam, only to begin again in 
 the next wave that sweeps over and drowns the 
 froth of its predecessor. Sound always ceasing, 
 
128 Drummer- Boy of the Ruppahannoclc. 
 
 and yet ever continued! Time and eternity 
 symbolized there, on the same narrow strip or 
 wliite sand ! And in that reverberation of the 
 sounding sea liow much is conveyed to the ear ! 
 The echo of the helpful wind filling many sails 
 for prosperous voyages, the song of the sailor 
 on the yard, the joy of the fisherman returning 
 with a successful fare, the sport of children on 
 many summer beaches, the laugh of the invalid 
 gaining strength upon the sea ! And then are 
 caught those other sounds, the crash of waves 
 rolling out of their home amid mists and storms, 
 the fury of tempests hurrying through the air, 
 tiie death-cry of tlie sailor whose voyage ends in 
 a wreck, and the sobs of woman and child over 
 some fisherman's body thrown upon the sands ! 
 Yery soon, though, the thoughts of Forrest and 
 ISTanny were transferred from the sea to them- 
 selves, and Forrest said, 
 
 "Nanny!" 
 
 •'What?" 
 
 " Nanny, I don't want to be hasty. I think 
 I am ready to do my duty, though I did not 
 know I should feel this way ; feel like a coward 
 and like backing out wlien 1 see what I am 
 leaving. Still, I am readj^ Somebody must 
 go-" 
 
 She interrupted him : " Yes ; if the young 
 
Must Be a Soldier. 129 
 
 men don't go, who will ? I think young men 
 may reasonably take that step." 
 
 " What ? Nanny become a war-champion ! 
 Do you mean it? Didn't you break a com- 
 mandment, then? " 
 
 " No, not even scratched it. I have come to 
 that way of thinking. Somebody must go." 
 
 " Well, Nanny, if somebody must go, then 
 why not Forrest Hooper? I am ready but — I 
 did not know father would feel so bad" — lie 
 called Captain Frye father almost always — " I 
 did not know he would feel so bad. If by 
 waiting, say a little while, he would feel bet- 
 ter, why, why, I am thinking it might be 
 better—" 
 
 " Forrest, see here ! Just to put it off will 
 not make father feel any better. If you are 
 going, you might as well go soon — as far as his 
 feelings are concerned. And you know him. 
 If he once gets the idea that you are Consulting 
 his feelings, that he is any kind of an obstacle, 
 he will rise right above it. He would almost 
 hurry you off. He has a noble nature. You 
 know that." 
 
 " Well, Nanny, are you ready ? " 
 
 Nanny was grave in a moment. Deep 
 down in her heart she gave a little sigh like the 
 moving of deep waters down in the ocean caves, 
 
130 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 that no one hears. He would not have asked 
 that question in just that way if he had thought a 
 moment longer. He had asked it, though. Nan- 
 ny was ready to answer it. She lifted her eyes. 
 She could look deep down into Forrest's heart 
 when she had a mind to do it, and the young 
 man knew it. She looked deeper than ever that 
 day. Her searching eyes were like the sudden 
 shining of a vivid light out of a cloudy sky. 
 He never forgot how she looked. The light in 
 tliose eyes went with him far away, and kept 
 shining upon and searching him ; by day when 
 the storm smote down ; at night in his sleep, on 
 the march, in the battle. 
 
 She only said, " Forrest, you ought to know 
 how 1 feel about it. Of course, I —I don't want 
 you to go — you — you are— like a brother — " 
 
 She stopped. 
 
 She began again : "If you feel it is your 
 duty to go, I respect, admire your motive. I 
 won't hold you back. I will help you." 
 
 It was not what Nanny said, but the way slie 
 said it, the way she looked, that made all this 
 significant. 
 
 And Forrest only said, " Thank you. Yes, 
 Nanny, you are like — a sister — I believe you." 
 
 That was all. In the looking, not eye into 
 eye, but soul into soul, they were conscious that 
 
31 list Be a Soldier. 131 
 
 thej were something more than brother and 
 sister. 
 
 She only said, " I guess we will be walking 
 home now. It is getting cold up here." 
 
 " So it is." 
 
 He had not been aware of it before, but now 
 a cool wind was blowing over the sea. The 
 voice of the waves was like the roar of hoarse 
 trumpets. Was a storm coming? The mist 
 fringed the distant hills, and the last rays of the 
 sun angrily scowled through the pines beyond 
 the western marshes. Forrest went to the shop 
 to help Captain Frye. 
 
 As for Nanny, she went to the old farm-house, 
 walking slowly and thinking busily. She at- 
 tended to her duties about the house, and early 
 went to her room for the night. She blew out 
 her light and set it upon the mantel-piece. 
 Tlien she went to a window that looked off 
 upon the sea. 
 
 " I will shut down the window, it is so cool," 
 she said. 
 
 Across lonely spaces of water the light-houses 
 winked their eyes at Nanny — eyes red with 
 long watching. She fancied, as she sat at the 
 window, that she heard the chilling dash of the 
 ocean wav^es breaking on many isolated ledges, 
 and her heart seemed like a lonely rock beaten 
 
132 Drummer- J3o\j of the Rappahannock. 
 
 by the waves. She began to understand why it 
 was that she had taken no interest in Forrest's 
 going. She was surprised at the revehition of 
 feehng made to her, and afraid that in some 
 way the seci'et might escape from her and make 
 its way through the walls to Forrest's room aTid 
 wake him out of his sound sleep into a surprise. 
 Nanny was no more ready at the time to re- 
 veal to any one her feelings than the sun is to 
 proclaim to the world what becomes of the dew 
 that glistens in the sad eyes of the forget-me- 
 not. Slie wanted to say to Forrest that she was 
 sorry she had been so selfish, and had not more 
 readily entered into his plans, but in the telling 
 she might have betrayed the secret why she felt 
 reluctant to say, " Yes." She boxed up her 
 feelings as carefully as we inclose rare ermine 
 in the fragrant darkness of a cedar closet. 
 
 That night her hot face was pressed a long time 
 against the cool window-pane. At last she knelt 
 by the window and she prayed that her God might 
 be Forrest's ; that he might be led to do that 
 which he had never done, consecrate himself to 
 the service of God ; tliat he might be kept amid 
 the temptations of camp and the tumult of bat- 
 tle, and that she herself might lead that life of 
 self-denial to which she had once said she would 
 consecrate herself. 
 
Must Be a Soldier. 133 
 
 The next morning, when she arose and entered 
 the kitchen, Forrest saw only a cheerful, peace- 
 ful face. 
 
 " How pretty Nanny looks ! " he thought. 
 " How tasty her dress is ! She does not know 
 how becoming her dress is. Nanny does know 
 how to do things." 
 
 But Forrest's thoughts were not so much on 
 Nanny as on her father. He was thinking about 
 yesterday's decision that he would beat a drum 
 in his country's service. He i-ecalled also her 
 father's sorrowful, tearful agitation when the 
 subject of Forrest's departure was discussed. 
 Forrest now said to Nanny : 
 
 " Say, Nanny, I have been thinking it over in 
 the night, and I have made up my mind to this : 
 that if father can't let me go of his own free 
 accord — if he don't think it best — or — or — if it 
 is going to make such a difference to him though 
 he is willing, why, then, I can't go. And I think 
 I will go and tell him now. Is he in his room ? " 
 
 " You wait, Forrest. If any body speaks to 
 him, let me first. I don't think he has left his 
 room, Forrest. I know father, and I don't 
 think he will care to have you stay for him. It 
 wouldn't be like him ; but you let me speak to 
 him. I'll be back in a minute." 
 
 Nanny left her work, and stepped out from 
 
134 Drummer-Boy of the Rajyixihannock. 
 
 the kitclien into a little passage-way conducting 
 to tlie back-stairs. Her stepping was not very 
 alert, a fact wliicli Forrest noticed, and he won- 
 dered how she could be "back in a minute." 
 Up the old brown stairs, scented by bunches of 
 herbs swinging from the walls, slowly toiled 
 Nanny. She opened a door at the right, passed 
 through a little wardrobe, and then tapped on 
 an inner door. There was no response from 
 within. 
 
 " May be," concluded Nanny, " may be that 
 father isn't here. Pei'haps lie has gone to the 
 shop. I'll just push the door open, and make 
 certain that he is not here." 
 
 She pushed open the door. 
 
 " Why, he is here, sitting in his chair." She 
 said aloud, " Father, why didn't you answer me? 
 Why, see that bird ! Hear him." 
 
 On the ledge of the opened window sat a 
 robin, and he suddenly broke ont into an ec- 
 static strain, and then flew away. Yes, off 
 into the freshness and stillness of the morning 
 he flew, singing so jubilantly ! Why was it 
 that he lifted into the morning heavens that 
 song so exultant ? 
 
 " Wliy, father, you have such callers as that ? " 
 asked Nanny, stepping forward to the old-fash- 
 ioned arm-chair in which sat the blacksmith. 
 
Must Be a Soldier. 135 
 
 His head drooped as if weary. In liis lap was 
 his old browu leather-covered Bible. 
 
 " Why, he is asleep," thought Nanny ; '•' but 
 I should have supposed that bird would have 
 awakened him." 
 
 She gently laid her hand on his shoulder, 
 caught one nearer, fuller look at his face, and 
 then it seemed as if her heart sto^^ped beat- 
 ing. 
 
 " Why, father ! " she exclaimed in fright. 
 
 A single minute she lingered, as if all power 
 to stir were taken away. Then she flew down- 
 stairs. 
 
 " O, Forrest ! Do come here ! I believe father 
 has gone ! Quick ! " cried Nanny. 
 
 That bird had come back, and, wheeling in 
 front of the window, trilled his sweetest notes, 
 but Nanny did not hear, Forrest did not hear. 
 Tliey only — saw. They saw just the semblance 
 of the old blacksmith. It seemed as if he had 
 come from his work, and slowly, wearily climb- 
 ing the stairs, had entered his chamber, and 
 casting aside liis coat, as he often did, left it on 
 the chair, and had stepped out of the room. 
 Tins, that Forrest and Nanny saw in the old- 
 fashioned arm-chair, was the burdensome gar- 
 ment that the blacksmith had thrown aside, 
 and whicli he would not need again. He him- 
 
130 Drummer-Boy of the P^dppahannoch. 
 
 self had gone. Did not that bird's exultant 
 song suggest a welcome to the ti'iumphal rejoic- 
 ings of heaven ? 
 
 The funeral was on Easter dav, which was 
 close at hand when Captain Frye died. It was 
 an Easter sun that shone on the little cemetery 
 where the funeral procession halted around 
 an open grave for the closing service. It did 
 not look like a grave, for it was lined with ever- 
 green, and all around its edge were sprigs of 
 spruce. When the solemn words were uttered, 
 " Eartli to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," 
 Nanny let fall sprays of Easter lilies from tlie 
 old church, and they looked like flakes of the 
 purest snow dropping on the casket, 
 
 "It don't seem like a burial," said Skipper 
 Bowser to his wife, as they moved away from 
 the cemetery, where the sun still shone and the 
 birds sang. 
 
 "And it hasn't seemed like a death, Jerry." 
 
 " Went so sudden, Mirandy ! " 
 
 "I know it. That might seem queer, but 
 the doctor sez he has been expectin' it." 
 
 "He said so?" 
 
 " Yes; he sez the caj^'n has had heart-trouble, 
 and he warned him not to drive his work so ; 
 and the day afore he died he turned off an 
 amazin' lot of work." 
 
Must Be a Soldier. 137 
 
 " But he bad a hand in the shop." 
 
 " I know it, Jerry, but he's one of them folks 
 tliat allers would do the work of their hands. 
 Never spared hisself, never ! " 
 
 " I know it. Jest like him. I wonder what 
 Nanny will do, and Huldah ! Huldah seems all 
 broken up. Don't see much of her." 
 
 "Sick; and that's what brought her home, 
 and that's what has kept her in-doors. See her 
 a-leanin' on Forrest. They say she quite takes 
 to the boy. O, she and Naimy will stay in the 
 old house. Forrest — I don't know — but I ven- 
 tnr' to say you won't hear his drum a-beatin' 
 round here much." 
 
 " Somebody says the cap'n took on about For- 
 rest's goin' away ; that is, he felt it, though he 
 wouldn't give in to it." 
 
 " And Forrest told me he wouldn't go if it 
 made the cap'n feel so bad." 
 
 It almost seemed as if Captain Frye, knowing 
 if he lived that Forrest might be deterred from 
 going to the war, quietly took himself out of the 
 way. That settled the whole subject. Nanny 
 said one day, 
 
 " Forrest, before the summer is over, we will 
 try to have every tiling so arranged that you 
 can go to the war. You might get well under 
 way what land there is to be cultivated, and 
 
138 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 the shop I shall let. You can — go — if — you — 
 wish." 
 
 Forrest never knew what an effort it cost 
 ISTannj to saj those last six words. Slie kept 
 the pain deep hidden in her breast, and Forrest 
 made ready to beat a drum in the war. 
 
 S^^ 
 
Gilbert Makes a Call. 139 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTEE VIII. 
 
 * GILBERT MAKES A CALL. 
 
 T was now tlie latter part of June. Tlie 
 evening air was chilly. A fire bad been kin- 
 dled on the broad hearth of the sitting-room in 
 the Frye home. The light from this fire reached 
 the windows, and swept across them in flashes 
 that came and went like the flashing of the 
 aurora in the northern sky. ISTanny was sitting 
 alone before the fire. It had been a perplexing 
 day. The tenant of Captain Frye's shop had 
 given Xanny much trouble, proving to be a 
 man of intemperate habits, and Nanny had been 
 forced that day to ask Skipper Bowser and 
 George to come to the shop and stop a carousal 
 there. If Forrest had been at home he could 
 have helped Nanny, but a recruiting-office had 
 been opened at the Port, and he had gone 
 there to see the recruiting-officer about enlist- 
 ing. He expected to be at home in the morn- 
 ing. Nanny had missed him. It was a day of 
 jjerplexity, and she missed, too, her father. She 
 was sitting alone, thinking about her father, when 
 
140 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 she lieard a noise. Was that the sound of scrap- 
 ing feet at the door? The latch was raised, and 
 in came Eliza and George. 
 
 " Why, honey, be yer all alone ? Xo one at 
 all wid yer? Jest in time, George, to keep dis 
 poor cliile comp'ny," and EHza laid a sympa- 
 thizing hand on Nanny's shoulder- as she sat 
 down beside her. George seated himself on the 
 other side, and J^anny felt stronger with these 
 faithful sable supports close at hand. 
 
 " De cap'n w^as a mighty nice ole man," said 
 the male sable comforter. "You miss him a 
 lieap a day like dis." 
 
 " Xo one as I know had a word fur to say agin 
 him, George." 
 
 "No, Li-zay. Dey couldn't cotch^him in any 
 insin-ker-sist-ency," said George, grappling with 
 a big word, and trying to throw it. 
 
 "Drefful hard dis; drefful hard dis! I can 
 only see two things to soffen de blow. One is, 
 you hab your health and strength. Dat is good. 
 De odder is dat — " 
 
 " De Lor' reigns ! " said George, solemnly. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Eliza, " de Lor' reigns. (He 
 oughter to have been a min'ster," she whis^^ered 
 proudly to Nanny, pointing at George.) 
 
 Those words, " de Lor' reigns," lingered with 
 Nanny. George and Eliza -went on talking. 
 
Gilbert Makes a Call. 141 
 
 I^anny scarcely knew what tliey did say after- 
 ward, for she was saying to herself, " God 
 reigns! God reigns!" He reigns in his power, 
 and he reigns in his love. She was only a drift- 
 ing bit on the great ocean-cnrrent of events, bnt 
 that current was sweeping onward in the direc- 
 tion of infinite love and blessing. The question 
 that she was to answer was this : " Have I sub- 
 mitted to that power and love ? Am I willing 
 that God sliould reign. I am only a drifting bit, 
 but drifting bits will gather in the crevices of 
 hindering ledges, and all progress there be 
 checked. Am I willing to trust to the great 
 current of divine care and love? It will not bear 
 me amiss, and I can trust it." It almost seemed 
 to her as if there were an actual yielding to this 
 current, a grateful falling back and resting upon 
 it, so that slie ceased to hear the voices of George 
 and Eliza. There was only a pleasant, musical 
 murmur, first on one side, and then on the other. 
 
 In the midst of all this came a smart rap at 
 the door, one of those loud, patronizing, self- 
 consequential raps whose language is, "It is 
 somebody of importance ! Big I is at the door ! 
 Let me in quick ! " 
 
 " My ! " exclaimed Eliza, " Dat is a mos' a 
 powerful knock. Somebody is dar, sure." 
 
 When she went to the door a voice of much 
 
142 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 suavity and conceit was heard ; a voice with 
 many inflections, with many windings and turns 
 like the threads of a screw ; a voice that insin- 
 uates and worms its way along like a screw ; a 
 voice behind which is a will harder than a screw. 
 
 '' Is Miss Nanny in ? " 
 
 "Whodis?" 
 
 " Gilbert French," said the smooth, screw- 
 like voice. 
 
 " She knowed dat afore. She 'spises dat 
 Gilbert French," whispered George to Nanny. 
 
 'Eliza did not budge an inch at the door, im- 
 movable and dumb as the Sphinx. 
 
 " Woman, this is not ceremonious ! " said the 
 voice, irritated now. This he repeated. 
 
 " I only axed you wJio dis?" 
 
 "Gilbert French." 
 
 " Well, if you says so, I 'spose you be." 
 
 " But I want to see Miss Nanny." 
 
 " O, you do ! Why didn't you say dat afore ? 
 How's I gwine to look into folk's hearts, 'spe- 
 cially if dey hab obercoats on ? " 
 
 " You can see if you want to," muttered the 
 man. 
 
 '•' You want fur to see Miss Nanny ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Wall, I'm in a heap of a doubt ef you can. 
 She has a peck ob trouble to bear now." 
 
Gilbert MaJica a Cull. 143 
 
 " What if you should ask lier ? " 
 
 " O, you want me fur to ax her ? Chile, ef 
 you had said dat in de fustcst place, I should 
 hab had yer errau'. It jest sjiiles my good tem- 
 per, and makes me wuss dan a Mexican mule, to 
 luib fo|ks hang on de door-step, an' not gib dere 
 erran'. Nanny, you see dis pusson ? " 
 
 George wtis crouching in his chair, stuffing a 
 big yellow and orange handkerchief into his 
 mouth, because, as he said, " Li-zay was de beat- 
 est one." 
 
 " She says you might come in, an' I spose you 
 can ; but, George, I reckon you an' me had 
 better be gwine," 
 
 As Gilbert slipped through the front-door, 
 George and Eliza glided like shadows out of 
 the back-door. 
 
 Nanny rose to receive her visitor. As lie 
 entered, he gave one of those circumnavigating 
 looks that seemed to go all round the room and 
 make an ins23ection of every thing at once, looking 
 under the table as w^ell as over it, back of the 
 clock as well as in front of it, into the shadowy 
 corners, and almost up the chimney. This im- 
 pression perhaps was owing to his eyes, which 
 were very large, and of a very light blue, rolling 
 round in ample spaces of white, and seeming 
 
 to be forever on the turn. His featui-es were 
 10 
 
144 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 clear-cut and regular also, excepting bis nose, 
 which M^as sharp and prominent and one-sided. 
 His face was partially concealed by his mus- 
 tache and side-whiskers. These, with his retreat- 
 ing forehead and prominent nose, gave his face 
 an appearance somewhat fox-like — or rat-like, 
 rather. Gilbert French would have been a 
 noticeable man in a crowd on account of his 
 very tall, erect form, of which he was proud, 
 and those piercing, devouring eyes that seemed 
 to say, " I am a villain," or else on the road to 
 be one. And yet that was not his reputation 
 
 amono; his neighbors generallv. He was consid- 
 er O O ./ 
 
 ered to be a smart, enterprising young man ; 
 sharp at a bargain, it is true, but, though he had 
 been known to squeeze some poor debtors be- 
 tween the mill-stones of the law, yet by many 
 in the community he was regarded quite favor- 
 ably. He "kej^t a store," and it was supposed 
 that he speculated in railroad and manufactur- 
 ing stocks. There was the distillery at the 
 Port, which he was said to own. As he drove 
 a smart horse, dressed well, and seemed to have 
 plenty of funds, it was reported that he was 
 "making money fast." He had a joke and a 
 smile for every body — whom he wished to smile 
 upon and joke with ; for Gilbert was that kind 
 of an individual who could put his wrath under 
 
Gilbert Makes a Call. 145 
 
 lock and key, and kiss the feet of a superior 
 who may have insulted him, and tlien he would 
 flame out like a volcano at an inferior who had 
 provoked him, and whom he wished in turn to 
 insult. By artful management he had con- 
 trived to vault into several town-offices, and was 
 prepared to make these a stool on which to stand 
 and thence to jump up to something higher. He 
 had been imprudently trusted by Captain Fryc 
 who not only owed Gilbert, but he had handed 
 to him certain family funds for investment, and 
 found it difficult to get any account of these 
 from Gilbert. Nanny knew this, but it did not 
 annoy her so much as the fact that Gilbert 
 French was most persistent in many things de- 
 signed as personal attentions from him, and yet 
 most disagreeable intrusions to her. To-night 
 she felt so lonely that she had no heart to turn 
 from even a dog that cared to see her ; and, with- 
 out thinking, allowed Gilbert to come in, when 
 ordinarily she would have declined to see him. 
 
 Gilbert ran his hand through his locks, or 
 where locks may generally be found, for his 
 own hair was short and scant. At the same 
 time his eyes, like revolving lights, swept the 
 four walls of the room. 
 
 " It must be lonely for you here, Nanny." 
 
 *' Very." 
 
1 46 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " The captaiu was a nice man, and we all miss 
 him." 
 
 Nanny sighed. There was no conversation for 
 a minute, as Gilbert found it difficult to rake 
 together material appropriate to the occasion. 
 He had a tongue, though, tliat was not like a 
 wheel in a tide-mill, sure to run only at certain 
 hours of the day. He looked round the room, 
 and then with his big lusterless eyes devoured 
 the bowed figure in the chair. 
 
 "'Ahem!" Gilbert was clearing his tlii-oat. 
 " I am an old friend, ]S[anny," he said, affection- 
 ately, " and at this time when you must — need 
 — help, if I can be of service I should consider it 
 a great pleasure to — render any — aid — der. Have 
 you made your plans beyond the summer? " 
 
 " Only to stay here, for the present, at least. 
 Aunt Huldah cannot leave. Forrest seemed to 
 think it would be best." 
 
 " May be ; but Forrest is young and without 
 experience, and his judgment not matured." 
 
 Nanny was not the person to quietly see an 
 absent friend struck in the back. 
 
 "Father used to say that he thought Forrest had 
 a ver}^ good head for his years, and I know so." 
 
 Gilbert turned his face toward the clock, and 
 treated it to a most sarcastic, sinister leer. It 
 was a way that he had of relieving himself of 
 
Gilbert Makes a Call. 147 
 
 any feelings he did not care to manifest. He 
 would make up such a face at a stone wall, if 
 talking with a person in the road, or, it raiglit 
 be, at a barn. The clock did not change coun- 
 tenance, but only went, with great sobriety, 
 " Tick, tick ! tick, tick ! " 
 
 " Yes, you must be lonely," said Gilbert, re- 
 turning to the first subject of conversation, and 
 putting all the sympathy he could into his voice. 
 Tliere was a long silence. 
 
 " Nanny," he said at last, slowly, and in a 
 tone designed to be impressive and tender, 
 " Nanny— dear— " She felt like rushing out of 
 doors, but she restrained herself, and he went on. 
 " You must have been very lonely, and I — can 
 see that you — will be. You must have been 
 aware for some time — that I have been — very 
 much interested in you as I could be in no- 
 other — woman." 
 
 Here his arm went out toward Nanny, and 
 in another moment lie would have extended it 
 about her. She shrank from him as if he had 
 been a snake approaching. He saw it and 
 desisted. He had intended to say something 
 else, but he instinctively felt tliat it would not 
 be prudent, and he remained silent. " I mnst 
 go," he said, and rose from his chair. Nanny 
 rose also ; it was her turn to say something. 
 
148 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Mr. French, there should be a fair under- 
 standing between us. I wish to be considered 
 your friend, but I can encourage nothing further. 
 I have told you by ray actions that I could not 
 accept any attentions from you. Perhaps I 
 should have said it in so many words, but until 
 there was an absolute necessity for it, I wished 
 to avoid it. Now I must speak, and openly and 
 plainly say that you and I can only be friends." 
 
 There she stood before the tire, her lips com- 
 pressed, a resolute look flashing out of her eyes. 
 People said that Nanny Frye, when aroused by 
 any emergency, would be called exceedingly 
 handsome. She certainly seemed so to Gilbert 
 French that evening. The very decided tone of 
 her words changed Gilbert French's bearing. 
 He laid aside the soft tones and smirking face, 
 like a reptile that throws off a skin masking it, 
 showing now its real character as it protrudes its 
 hideous features and darts its fangs. 
 
 "Miss Nanny," whispered Gilbert, "you may 
 wish you had never said this." 
 
 He turned about nimbly as a snake on its tail, 
 seized his hat, and was leaving the room, when 
 he exclaimed : 
 
 " O, let me see ! I had not mentioned one 
 thing." 
 
 He hissed out this astonishing statement : 
 
Gilbert Makes a Call. 149 
 
 "You think you are very nice down here; 
 that your father was above wrong, and Forrest 
 is a nice young specimen to send or to think of 
 sending to the war ; but I charge Forrest — " 
 
 His voice rose as he spoke, till he now shrieked 
 out the words, " with being — a — thief ! " 
 
 He waited to see the eflE ect of his charge upon 
 Nanny. 
 
 She quietly said, " A thief ? Never ! '' 
 
 " O, it is easy to say 'never !' but it is another 
 thing to prove ' never ! ' " 
 
 " Well, what is your charge ? " 
 
 " My charge is this : that I had some money 
 — some of it on the National Bank, Drewville, 
 and Forrest kept it till spent in Skipper Bow- 
 ser's boat-shop, and then pretended to have 
 found it there, and suddenly lost it. The wind 
 blew it out of the window ! That's likely ! 
 No ; it was my money, and. Miss Frye, I mean 
 to have it — and the thief, too." 
 
 Gilbert Frenah here leaned forward and pro- 
 jected his long body in the direction of Nanny 
 as if he were throwing a lance at her. Nanny 
 trembled, and her face was flushed with strange 
 excitement, but she controlled her voice. 
 
 " Strange this story should just break out ! 
 Forrest has been about home all this time, and 
 we have heard notliing about the slander." 
 
150 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Slander ! Too imicli truth in it to be slan- 
 der. As for the breaking out, small-pox don't 
 break out in a daj. May be in the system some 
 time, and then comes to the surface. Miss 
 Frye, it is a plain case, to my mind. Forrest 
 expected to go off and wanted some money, and 
 helped himself to my pile. Of that pile, some 
 was on a Drewvnlle bank, and Forrest told some- 
 body the money he found in the skipper's 
 shop was on that bank. You see, he knew he 
 would be followed some time, and have to ac- 
 count for the theft, and so having spent — it — 
 he got np that story about the bank-bills in tlie 
 skipper's shop — frightened, you see ; that's the 
 way of it, and as nobody could deny it he could 
 say, when I missed the money and made a fuss 
 about it, that a thief brought it to the skipper's 
 shop, and left it there." 
 
 " That is a likely story ! " 
 
 " But it was on the Drewville bank, like mine, 
 and Forrest at my store, two days before, saw 
 me handling it — " 
 
 "What if he did?" 
 
 "Well, miss, tliat's a s'picions thing — and 
 you'll find it out. Forrest said, on the top of 
 the money he found was a ten-dollar bill on the 
 Drewville bank, and that is mine ; yes — " 
 
 Here Nanny was startled by a voice in her rear. 
 
Gilbert Makes a Call. 151 
 
 " I liave a word to say about tliat." 
 
 Ill stalked Aunt Huldah. Tall, gaunt, grim, 
 with a sharp, black, hawk-eye. Aunt Huldah 
 was sometimes called "half-Indian." She was 
 a half-sister of Captain Frye, and from a differ- 
 ent ancestral source some qualities had streamed, 
 into her make-up which were wanting in the 
 blacksmith. In some way she had overheard 
 these charges against Forrest, for whom she had 
 been pleased to develop a strange liking. She 
 now stepped before Gilbert, who was once 
 ranked as a person that was established in her 
 good graces. 
 
 "And what are j^ou charging theft on onr 
 absent boy for — a boy who has set you an ex- 
 ample and expects to go to the war? Why 
 haven't you taken him before this time when 
 he wants to enlist ! You a-skulkin' at home 
 when you should be at the war 1 " 
 
 Here Gilbert laughed. It was his boast that 
 he could manage Aunt Huldah. 
 
 " Just laff ! " lie would say. " Don't answer 
 her! Don't mind her ! Laff!" 
 
 He was trying his old method, but it infuri- 
 ated her. 
 
 " You — you — you, making these charges when 
 you ought to be proving them ! As if it proves 
 that I am a thief because I may have a ten- 
 
152 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 dollar bill just like one that somebody else had, 
 day before yesterday ! More ten-dollar bills 
 than one in the world. You — you — you — " 
 
 Aunt Huldah could find no words hot enough 
 to be hitched on to the train of her liery pro- 
 nouns. She stood indignantly firing them off, 
 "you — you — you," intensifying her shots by 
 pointing with her long, lean hand at the target. 
 
 '' O well,'- said Gilbert, abruptly turning to- 
 ward the door into the entry, " I have some busi- 
 ness at the Port and I guess I will be going." 
 
 He did not realize that in saying this he was 
 exposing himself to a fresh fire from Aunt Hul- 
 dah's guns. She drew herself up to her full 
 height. Slie looked more Indian-like than ever. 
 Her eyes flashed more sharply. There was new 
 vigor to that gesture of one long, lean hand 
 directly, intensely pointing. 
 
 " Your business at the Port ! It's a distil- 
 lery they say you're running. In at one door, 
 they say, the big carts come loaded with grain, 
 and out at another go forth carts with barrels 
 sold to the saloons. Men and women work hard 
 to get money for clothing and food, and you 
 tempt them to drink it up and squander it away. 
 Doctors make people well, and you make them 
 sick. Police officers try to stop evil, and you 
 sell rum to keep evil a-going. Fathers and 
 
Gilbert Makes a Call. 153 
 
 mothers work hard to make liomes, and joii try 
 to break them np. The Church tries toHft men 
 and make tliem better, and jou hold them down 
 and make them worse, O, it is an awful busi- 
 ness you arc in ! Didn't I see that old building 
 of yourn one night '\ The moon was a-shining on 
 it, a sickly yellow light, as if ashamed of it, and 
 I could see the tall chimneys, and the men were 
 at work that night, and like imps they were 
 working before the furnaces and a-feeding the 
 fires ! I could see it ! And I saw something else, 
 something besides that pale, sickly yellow light. 
 I saw the curse of God on it ; yes, the curse of 
 God on its tall chinmeys, on the old leaky roof, 
 on the rough shutters. Yes, you are in a mean, 
 miserable business. You are in partnership 
 with the devil. The curse of God is on you — 
 on you — " 
 
 Here Gilbert began to withdraw from the 
 room, but Aunt Huldah followed him, point- 
 ing at him and saying, " On you — on you — on 
 you ! " 
 
 He did not walk but ran into the blackness. 
 He hurried up the dark road, but there followed 
 him a finger pointing and a voice saying, "On 
 you — on you I " 
 
154 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A SORRY RECRUIT. 
 
 VIIILE Forrest was absent, what had he 
 learned about enlisting? When the war 
 opened, recruits were mustered into the army 
 amid surronndings very flattering to one's pride. 
 It might be at a big, thrilling war-meeting that 
 one would give his name as that of a sacrifice 
 on his country's altar. He went away envied 
 by tlie small boys, admired by the maidens, and 
 in his own eyes a hero and the deliverer of his 
 country before he had fired a gun or even 
 touched it. Forrest had no such opportunity. 
 . It was now the second year of the war. There 
 W** was no big war-meeting to dismiss Forrest from 
 its presence into an atmosphere of earthly glory. 
 There was just a dingy recruiting-office at the 
 Port. Only a recruiting - officer was there. 
 Forrest wished to ascertain from him certain 
 preliminaries to enlisting, and in a few weeks, 
 when the farm-work would let him off and a 
 "hired man" could be secured for a day now 
 and then to do all that was needed, then For- 
 
A Sony Jxecrtdt. 155 
 
 rest expected to pass into Uncle Sam's service. 
 Tins preliminary meeting with tlie recruiting- 
 officer Lad a value. Forrest would find out 
 fully about a soldier's equipments, information 
 in which Nanny was interested. Would he go 
 "to the front" very soon, or in a camp for re- 
 cruits would he be likely to stay into autumn ? 
 What was expected of drummers ? and so on. 
 Forrest had laid out his work systematically 
 and had prepared a list of questions set down 
 on a slip of paper in due order. Nanny had 
 specially examined Forrest's wardrobe for this 
 occasion. She had made him a white and blue 
 neck-tie, and then, carefully adjusting its ends, 
 she stood off and inspected him. Forrest looked 
 very brilliant that day, and Nanny's beautiful 
 hazel eyes brightened as she gazed at him, and 
 these told more than her voice confessed. 
 
 "There, Forrest, I think you will do; your 
 neck-tie looks — very well." 
 
 So she continued to stand off and contemplate 
 that neck-tie. Not a word more did she say, 
 but her eyes confessed her admiration. 
 
 " All right, old lady I If I have passed mus- 
 ter, then I will go." 
 
 " I expect that neck-tie will make an impres- 
 sion on the officer who is .recruiting — " 
 
 " And not the wearer, Nanny ? " 
 
156 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " O jes. of course ; onlj don't let liiin make 
 you sign the papers to-dav. Tell liini jou want 
 to ask some questions. That is all." 
 
 " Aye, aye ! " cried the drummer-boy. 
 
 "Now look out, Forrest! I expect he will 
 hang on to you." 
 
 Forrest's neck-tie was not the only thing re- 
 ceiving attention. 
 
 "I'll polish my boots extra," tlionght For- 
 rest. '-In the army, I believe, officers like to 
 see the soldiers attend to such things. That 
 recruiting-officer shall see that I know what i 
 
 18 
 
 what." 
 
 Forrest wrapped the blacking-brush in a piece 
 of brown paper and stuck it in liis pocket. 
 
 "When I get up to the Port," he said, "I 
 will give my boots an extra rub. llo, ho! I 
 am the soldier for them — neat and tidy, ready 
 for dress-parade any time." 
 
 After he had left Nann}^ and m\is fairly 
 started on the road to the Port, Forrest met 
 Skipper Bowser coming home in his family 
 chariot. 
 
 " Bound off, Forrest ? " cried the skipper, in 
 his social way. " Look as if ye had jest come 
 out of the band-box." 
 
 "Only going up to. the Port to make some 
 inquiries about enlisting. Just getting ready, 
 
A Sorry Recruit. 157 
 
 yon know. Going to sign pretty soon, for the 
 farm work is almost where I can leave it." 
 
 " Good luck ! I expect they will grab you 
 and hold on tight and make a soldier of you at 
 once. Shouldn't mind it if I was a-goin' with 
 you. I'd like to free one darky." 
 
 The Bowser cliariot rolled on, and Forrest 
 walked off. 
 
 In the walk to the Port nothing moment- 
 ous occurred. Forrest wondered if people knew 
 that a candidate for the army had arrived, and 
 in tliis conviction his bosom seemed to swell too 
 large for his coat. Having polished anew his 
 boots he entered the little recruiting-office and 
 accosted an army captain who sat there alone. 
 
 " I — called to see — about enlisting," said For- 
 rest in his prompt, animated way, "about en- 
 listing as a drummer-boy," 
 
 "Your friends willing?" replied the officer 
 very graciously, delighted to have a little busi- 
 ness come in. 
 
 "Certainly, sir. I haven't any parents living 
 that I know of, and the gentleman I have lived 
 with, Captain Frye, down the river, is dead now, 
 and really I am about the only person to settle 
 it." 
 
 " O, you come from this town ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
158 Drummer- Bo 1/ of the Rappahannock^ 
 
 " What name ? " 
 
 " Forrest Hooper." 
 
 *' What did you say?" 
 
 " Forrest Hooper, sir." 
 
 The officer's face changed expression. His 
 voice changed too. The smile went out of the 
 face and the cordial tone vanished from his 
 voice. There was a pause in the conversation. 
 Forrest felt a chill in the atmosphere of the 
 interview at once. He felt a " something," 
 though he w^as not conscious of its nature. 
 
 " Well, young man, I — I don't know. You 
 are aware that we want men wdio will be reliable, 
 whom we can trust, who will be good as their 
 word, who will introduce no bad morals into the 
 army, who — " 
 
 " What's he driving at?" was Forrest's aston- 
 ished, silent question. 
 
 • The officer- continued, though embarrassed 
 and stammering now: "One who — who — will 
 have hands that can be kept off from another's 
 property — " 
 
 " What — what do you mean ? " asked the as- 
 tonished Forrest. 
 
 "Well, sir, I know some recruiting-officers 
 take men they know to be unfit, but I am not 
 going to let any such scallawags run my gaunt- 
 let—" 
 
A Sorry Recruit. 159 
 
 "I am not a scallawag," said Forrest indig- 
 nantly. 
 
 '' I didn't say you were ; only — isn't your name 
 Forrest Hooper?" 
 
 " Why, yes, sir! Sometimes I am called For- 
 rest Frye, after the man I have lived with, but 
 my real name is Hooper." 
 
 " That is it ! I guess you are the hoy. Well 
 —well—" 
 
 He stopped, and began again. 
 
 "I don't like to say it to your face, but it is 
 a-going round behind your back — " 
 
 Her« Forrest's heart beat perceptibly quicker. 
 The officer, w^io was again pausing, now started 
 on. 
 
 "And— and you had better know it. A man 
 called here and told me there is some charge 
 against you for stealing — " 
 
 "Fur what, sir?" broke out the surprised 
 Forrest. " I don't know any thing about your 
 stealing ! " 
 
 " Of course, you don't. It's not my stealinor 
 hut' yours, sir." 
 
 And the officer gave his head a toss. He was 
 a man with a long sandy beard, and while he 
 had an abundance of hair on his chin he had 
 very little on top of his head. Forrest remem- 
 bered him as "the sandy-bearded and bald- 
 11 
 
160 Drwmncfr-Boy of the Rappahannoclc. 
 
 headed man." He learned somewliere that liis 
 name was Captain Peirce. 
 
 " No, sir," said Forrest indignantly ; " and 
 3^011 sha'n't say it is mine ! " 
 
 Tlie officer rather liked this in Forrest, and 
 lie spoke not quite so offensively. " I don't 
 make any charge against you. I said a man 
 called here and told rae there was some chai-ge 
 against you for stealing." 
 
 " There is none, sir. "Who dared say there 
 Avas?" 
 
 "I forget his name. After lie left here he 
 went into that building — a distillery, I think." 
 
 The officer pointed out a big, black, shabby 
 building. 
 
 " Just the place a man talking that way w^ould 
 be likely to go into — or else come out of," said 
 Forrest. " It is a lie." 
 
 The officer laughed. He tipped back his 
 head, elevating his beard as if it were a shovel, 
 and said, "Haw — haw!" This shovel-move- 
 ment he relocated, laughing again, and said, 
 " Pretty good ! " 
 
 " Yes," asserted Forrest, " that is what they 
 make in distilleries : lies, fights, murders." 
 
 The officer again said, " Pretty good ! " 
 
 " O I know now who must have told you ! for 
 no other person round my way lias any thing to 
 
A Sorry Recruit. 161 
 
 do with distilleries. It must liave been Gilbert 
 French." 
 
 " Gilbert French? Don't know his name." 
 
 " Was he rather tall, a youngish man, with a 
 kind of sharp face — as if it might go through you 
 like a buzz-saw if it got to revolving ? " 
 
 " Pretty good ! Guess that is the man," said 
 the oflScer, who was pleased to see the young 
 man's readiness in defending himself and detect- 
 ing his enemies. " Well, now, you hunt up that 
 slander, if it be such, and you clap it into its 
 cotiin quick. You see, this fellow said the mat- 
 ter might get into court, and said of course I 
 didn't want to have that bother with a recruit. 
 I told him, No. I didn't want a case that was 
 in court on my hands." 
 
 " A case in court ! I don't know what he 
 means." 
 
 " Well, you just hunt the thing up, and then 
 come and see me." 
 
 Forrest went off fuming. It was now sunset. 
 He had not intended to go home that night, for 
 lie was tired, and a cousin of Captain Frye's was 
 always glad to keep any of the household over 
 night when they wished to remain at the Port, 
 and Forrest had purposed to go there. 
 
 " ISTo," thought Forrest, " I am going home. 
 I want to get there soon as I can and know 
 
162 Drummer -Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 what this thing is that Gilbert French is repoi-t- 
 ing." 
 
 He left the recruiting-office in a mood very 
 different from that in which he entered it. He 
 did not wonder now if the people realized that 
 a candidate for the army had entered their vil- 
 lage. He avoided every body. He saw the 
 old distillery, and the red furnace fires glowing 
 through a window, and he moved away as if 
 they were burning him. Turning from the distil- 
 lery, he almost ran into the court-house, an insti- 
 tution which for convenience' sake might fittingly 
 be located next to saloons and distilleries. 
 
 "I hate you., too," said Forrest, avoiding the 
 court-house. 
 
 As he turned away, he carelessly stepped into a 
 puddle of water, and the polish on those sinning 
 boots was ruined. 
 
 " Don't care how they look now," said For- 
 rest, and he tramped through another puddle 
 fiercely. 
 
 The brilliant light had gone out of the sky 
 above the western hills, and so out of Forrest's 
 dreams of war-glory had faded all the luster 
 and coloring exciting his imagination. What 
 about the injustice of slavery occasioning the 
 war? 
 
 " Somebody is unjust to me," he was saying. 
 
A tSorrij Recruit. 163 
 
 The poor black did not seem to have a cause 
 worthy of so much attention now that there 
 was an attempt to overwhelm Forrest Hooper 
 with a very scandalous iniquity. His cheeks 
 burned with indignation. He was glad when 
 he saw ahead a long strip of woods lining the 
 road just outside of the Port. In those dark 
 shadows the world could not see that flushed 
 face, and in their cool depths the heat would 
 go down. 
 
 Hark ! He heard the sharp, echoing rattle 
 of cai-riage-wheels coming through the woods. 
 
 *' Who's that ? " wondered Forrest. As he 
 neared the vehicle he was glad the light was 
 too scanty to reveal his identity, for he did not 
 care to address or be addressed by any one. 
 But the being in this vehicle was of a social 
 . turn. He sang out in tones that sounded famil- 
 iar, " Good-night ! " 
 
 " If that isn't the skipper ! " thought Forrest, 
 dropping his head and silently hurrying away. 
 "Lucky escape! Afraid he would say some- 
 thing like what he did this morning : ' I ex- 
 pected they would grab you and hold on tight 
 and make a soldier of you at once.' JSTonsense 1 
 The officer didn't want to hold on to a thief." 
 
 The next minute Forrest was sorry he had 
 foolishly passed the skipper that way. 
 
164 Drummer- Boy of tlie Rappahannock. 
 
 " Why," lie said, " the skipper is one of my 
 best friends. Besides, I have done nothing to 
 be ashamed of. I have not stolen any tiling. 1 
 can hold up my head as high as any body. I 
 have a great mind to run after the skipper and 
 tell him all, and say, any way, who passed him." 
 
 The skipper, though, had started up his horse, 
 and Forrest recalled an occasion when "Old 
 Billy " went at a disagreeable speed, and it might 
 be so now. 
 
 " Guess I won't try it," Forrest concluded. 
 " Sorry, though, I didn't speak to him." 
 
 He was to be still more sorry. Gilbert 
 French's store was the first place Forrest pro- 
 posed to visit on his return journey. 
 
 " I will see him at once, and ask him if he 
 made any charges before that officer and what 
 they were. I'll put my foot on this thing at 
 once," said the would-be recruit, resolutely. 
 
 When, after a long, wearisome walk, he ar- 
 rived at Gilbert French's store, Gilbert, as the 
 rest of us know, was somewhere else. 
 
 " That's too bad ! " exclaimed Forrest, looking 
 up at the dark front of Gilbert's store. " Won- 
 der where he is ? " He went away feeling badly. 
 He would have felt worse if he had known just 
 where Gilbert was. 
 
 He had gone out of his way to see that 
 
A Sorry Recruit. 105 
 
 black store-front, and now, in order to get home 
 as soon as possible, lie "took a short cut" 
 through the woods, and short cuts are some- 
 times the most troublesome and virtually the 
 longest routes. Through thick, tangled under- 
 growth, over ledgy fields, through boggy tracts, 
 he went resolutely, persistently, laboriously, 
 saying all the time, "This is a straight line 
 home." 
 
 Once he tumbled. When he was rising, some 
 kind of a lugubrious bird screamed, overhead. 
 It sounded Hke, " Thief ! " 
 " You villain ! " cried Forrest. 
 This was in a rocky pasture. The next tract 
 was a locality where a lot of pine-trees had been 
 burned down. 
 
 "Is that any body?" he wondered, seeing 
 something black before him. Was it Gilbert 
 French ? Forrest rushed at it only to feel un- 
 der his hands a charred trunk that the fire had 
 left behind. Heated, the perspiration stream- 
 ing down his face, he carelessly, thoughtlessly 
 pnt up his hand to wipe off the annoying drops. 
 Then he went on again. 
 
 "There is Nanny's light!" he exclaimed, 
 joyfully. 
 
 Yes, heated, tired, dejected, worried, he 
 greeted it as he came ont into the open grounds 
 
166 Dnmimer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 about the house, even as tlie sailor, turning from 
 a roughly tossing sea into a quiet haven, catches 
 joyfully the flash of the old harbor-lights. He 
 stopped at the window a moment and looked in. 
 Nanny was there, and had just laid a pine knot 
 on the open fire. The flames bursting up 
 strong and ruddy threw a sharp glare upon the 
 window, and amid this Xanny saw under a bat- 
 tered hat, a face half-black, anxious, staring — 
 why, whose was it ? 
 
 " Ugh ! " she screamed, and ran out of the room. 
 "Who was it? Gilbert French coming back to 
 frighten her ? Or was it George, who had be- 
 come half-white through some chemical bath or 
 stroke of magic ? 
 
 "I'll fasten the doors, any way," concluded 
 Nanny, flying first to the door nearest the win- 
 dow that had framed that spectral half-white 
 face. She not only locked but bolted this. 
 Then she locked and hooked a door on the op- 
 posite side of the house, and opening upon a 
 green, gently sloping grass-plot. The front door 
 was secured by a lock and a bolt and an old- 
 fashioned device of a stout bar that went from 
 side to side of the door-way. Nanny made sure 
 of all these fastenings. She was going from 
 window to window securing these when she 
 heard a suspicious noise outside the kitchen 
 
• A Sorry Recruit. 167 
 
 pantrj window. This could be reached by the 
 roof of a low shed in the rear of the house. 
 
 "O dear !" thought ISTanny. "He'll get in 
 there — no, he can't ! I fastened that window 
 after supper. I've headed off the scamp," 
 
 Then she heard an attempt to reach a window 
 in the scullery. Matters now looked serious. 
 " How I wish Forrest was here to help ! " 
 thought N'anny. She ran up to Aunt Huldah's 
 room. 
 
 '• Aunt Huldah, there's a man — and I can't 
 tell whether he's white or black, whether he's 
 Gilbert French or George — and he's trying to 
 get in — " 
 
 " Massy ! " said Aunt Huldah, seizing a long 
 iron poker from her fire-place, and then rushing 
 down the back-stairs. 
 
 Aunt Huldah was not deficient in courage, 
 and Nanny knew it, and she welcomed this 
 fierce ally. 
 
 "Which way is he coming in?" asked Aunt 
 Huldah, her sharp, black eyes glaring. 
 
 " O — I — I don't know," replied I^^Tanny, grip- 
 ping a broom-handle. " Every-where, it seems 
 to me ! All round ! " 
 
 "He shall taste of tliis!" grimly declared 
 Aunt Huldah, boldly proffering the poker as if 
 a long stick of candy to be sampled at once. 
 
168 Drummer- Boy of the RcqjpahaiMock. 
 
 " Hark I " said Nanny. 
 
 The two determined members of this female 
 home-guard were now passing through a lit- 
 tle entry leading to the door near the window 
 where Nanny first saw that face half white, half 
 black. 
 
 " Hark ! " said Nanny. 
 
 A most pitiful voice was now heard at the 
 key-hole of the door, saying, " Nanny, Nanny, 
 why don't you let a feller in ? " 
 
 " O get a light ! " excitedly said Nanny, who 
 herself was getting a ray of a hint upon the true 
 nature of the intruder. "I'll get one myself. 
 Aunt fluldah ! I half think it may be — dear 
 me ! O dear ! " 
 
 "AVho?" 
 
 Nannj^ did not say, but while running to the 
 light in the kitchen and then back to that door, 
 she kept up a thinking at the rate of two hun- 
 dred words a minute. She then began to take 
 the door out of its fastenings. 
 
 " Careful, Nanny ! " warned Aunt Huldah, 
 standing back just far enougli to make sure of a 
 good vigorous sweep w^ith that long poker the 
 moment the intruder was seen. 
 
 " Careful ! " she warned again. " I did begin 
 to think it was a dog ; a big, mad one ! " 
 
 It was, though, no dog whining at the key- 
 
A Sorry Recruit. 169 
 
 hole, but a discouraged mortal calling out again 
 dolefully, " Nainiy, it's—" 
 
 Nanny threw back the door and there stood 
 Forrest, his clothes besmirched all over, those 
 boots coated with swamp-mud, that neck-tie any 
 thing but tied, the long ends loose and flapping ; 
 while Forrest's face looked as if he had been 
 wiping it with a charcoal-bag. And such an 
 expression ! 
 
 " Why, Forrest Hooper, where did you come 
 from ? You poor fellow, come in I " said 
 Nanny. 
 
 As for Aunt Huldah, the breath seemed to 
 have almost left her, for in the most doleful 
 and penitent way, she was mumbling the words, 
 " Poor — poor Forrest ! " 
 
 " Well," said Forrest, nervously, '-'this— this, 
 is a qneer reception. I — I suppose you didn't 
 expect me." 
 
 "Expect you? Why, I thought you were 
 at the Port; and by this time a tired soldier 
 ought to be in bed. And Forrest, see here! 
 What have you been doing ? Where have you 
 been? Why didn't you tell me that you were 
 coming ? " asked Nanny. 
 
 All this time Aunt Huldah was murmurino;, 
 " Poor — poor Forrest ! " 
 
 " Well, Nanny, I couldn't let you know about 
 
170 Drmmner-Boy of the Rappaliannoch. 
 
 it. I didn't exi^ect myself to come. Bat you 
 see — " 
 
 " Well, stop just a moment — of course, I am 
 awful sorry — but where have you been ? Too 
 bad ! " 
 
 " Why I -took a short cut—" 
 
 "But just look in the glass one moment." 
 
 Nanny held up a light and Forrest looked in 
 the glass a single mom-ent. What he saw there 
 he never could have recognized as Forrest 
 Hooper, intimately as he knew that individual. 
 When he handled that charred stump in the 
 burned tract, he took away a black face-powder. 
 He began to laugh. There was in the young 
 man an elasticity of temperament too great to 
 submit long to the pressure of any present 
 trouble. The more he thought about it, tlie 
 more heartily he laughed. Nanny could not re- 
 sist the contagion. Even Aunt Huldah smiled, 
 though she first turned her back on Forrest, 
 for he had become a great favorite with Aunt 
 Huldah and she did not want to wound his 
 feelings. 
 
 "Well, Forrest, it is too bad to have kept 
 you outside ; I am real soi-ry," said the pitying 
 Nanny, "but that Gilbert French has been 
 here and stirred us up, and first I thought it 
 might be — " 
 
A Sorry Eecridt. 171 
 
 " He hasn't been here ! " shouted Forrest 
 furiously. " Well, now I will tell you why I 
 came home so unexpectedly." 
 
 Then he told his story, standing there before 
 the glass with disheveled hair, and loosened neck- 
 tie, and smutted face. Nanny, her bright hazel 
 eyes flashing, listened intently, ejaculating- at in- 
 tervals, "The wretch!" "Infamous!" "Such 
 a falsehood ! " 
 
 Aunt Huldah was again grasping her poker 
 with energy, occasionally brandishing it, and 
 muttering incoherently. 
 
 " Now isn't that abonnnable ? " asked Forrest. 
 
 "Abominable!" declared Nanny. "Shame- 
 ful! And he has been here with the same story." 
 
 " He hasn't, has he, Nanny ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Aunt Huldah, answering for 
 Nanny, "and he ought to, be hung; and I am 
 going to do it now — right off!" 
 
 "But not with that poker, Aunt Huldah?" 
 said Nanny. 
 
 The laugh that followed broke up all that was 
 left of the disagreeable tension of the hour. 
 They all now commented on the recent events 
 more quietly, while the females proceeded at 
 the same time to make Forrest comfortable. 
 Such tender, flattering treatment as he received ! 
 Nanny herself insisted on wiping off the sooty 
 
172 Drumiiier-Boif of the R'lppahannock. 
 
 stains upon his face. Aunt Huldali brought hira 
 dry stockings, warm slippers, and wanted to re- 
 move his boots. 
 
 " Yon have had no supper and must be awful 
 hungry, and I am going out into the barn and 
 make the liens give me a fresh Qgg^^^ said Nan- 
 ny, plunging boldly into the dark she had feared 
 a little while ago. 
 
 Aunt Huldah began to coax the kitchen fire 
 into effective service and set the tea-pot on the 
 stove. All these female activities were varied 
 with expressions of tender interest in Forrest, 
 and denunciations of Gilbert French. Nanny, 
 too, brought into the kitchen a curious little 
 stand of mahogany that Captain Frye had given 
 Forrest and wiiich was ordinarily kept in state 
 amid the treasures in the front room. Nanny 
 covered this with the whitest of cloths. Then 
 she set on it a pink china tea-cup and saucer, 
 also a pink china plate. On this crockery 
 several Celestials were Avobbling about in odd- 
 fashioned robes of pink, and flying kites of 
 pink. 
 
 " I must give you some of my damsom pre- 
 serves to-night," said Nanny, pouring the crim- 
 son globules into a dish snow white. 
 
 Aunt Huldah cut several slices of bread, and 
 poured the hot tea into the pink cup, thereby 
 
A Sorrij Recruit. 173 
 
 scalding a Chinese mandarin at the bottom. 
 Nanny cracked the eggs and let ont their white 
 and gold into a little glass cnp and then flavored 
 the eggs just as she knew Forrest fancied thera, 
 and gave them an additional flavor when she 
 said, 
 
 " There, Forrest ! You have had a hard time 
 to-night. Too bad ! " 
 
 " I'm all right now. First-rate ! " said For- 
 rest. 
 
 x\s he sat there, the engrossing object of the 
 care and attention of these two females, the 
 would-be recruit could not have felt better if 
 he had actually been to war, if he had beaten 
 his drum through half a dozen victories, and, 
 coming home, had been received with shouts, 
 by the inhabitants of the Port and then escorted 
 triumphantly down to tliis old home by the 
 sea. He went to bed in something of this 
 delusion, but he was shocked out of it by a 
 dream in which he was taking that " short cut" 
 again. He saw once more that black object 
 In the burnt lot, but this time it turned into 
 an antagonist and he abruptly awoke, fancying 
 he heard Gilbert French's voice savagely say- 
 ing, "Now I've got ye ! " 
 
1 74 Drummer-Boy of the B^appahannock. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TRACKING A MYSTERY. 
 
 WHEN Nanny awoke the next morning, she 
 knew it was early, for looking out of 
 the window she saw a strip of silvery daylight 
 on the sea. It was like a long hand pointing 
 out the hour on a steel-gray dial. To confirm 
 her in this opinion of the early hour of the daj', 
 she heard the clock striking five down in the 
 front entry, the tall old clock that through the 
 night so slowly ticked. It was like the sound 
 of a sentinel-foot walking across the floor, its 
 fall steadily echoing through the dark hours. 
 
 "Never feel afraid when I hear the old clock 
 ticking in the entry," Nanny would often say. 
 "It is like a friend wide awake and saying 
 so." 
 
 When she now heard the musical voice of 
 this old friend, saying, " It is five o'clock," she 
 quickly dressed, for she knew the day would be 
 a busy one and this opportunity for an early 
 start was not to be neglected. 
 
 " O dear ! " she murmured, when she thought 
 
Tracking a Mystery. 175 
 
 of Gilbert French's charge agahist Forrest. 
 " Wliy should this new trouble come 'I " 
 
 I^anny had a little melodeon in her room, 
 both little and old. When she had time in the 
 morning she would sit down at the melodeon 
 and let it breathe out some message of cheer 
 and hope. Somehow the words and tune she 
 wanted came promptly to her. She desired 
 something tliat was the expression of a soul in 
 trouble ; an expression resigned also, and trust- 
 ful. " Naomi " was the tune on the instrument 
 that echoed notes previously sounding in her 
 soul, and this was the channel of thought in 
 which her own feelings readily ran : 
 
 " Father, whate'er of earthly bhss 
 
 Thy sovereign will denies, 
 Accepted at thy throne of grace 
 
 Let this petition rise : 
 Give me a calm and thankful heart, 
 
 From every murmur free; 
 The blessings of thy grace impart, 
 
 And let me live to thee." 
 
 Nanny did not know how effective her sing- 
 ing was that morning. Her voice, so clear and 
 silver-like, always attracted the attention of peo- 
 ple ; but this song the singer peculiarly felt. 
 The soul was in the music. The singer was in 
 
 the song. It made all the difference in the 
 12 
 
1V6 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 world. Nanny did not see a door open behind 
 her, neither did she liear. If she had turned 
 abruptly, she would have caught Aunt Huldah's 
 two sorrowful eyes in the door-crack. Nanny 
 afterward slowly revolved on the melodeon- 
 stool, and those two eyes in the door-crack dis- 
 appeared quickly as two blackbirds caught in a 
 corn-field. Later, Nanny heard Aunt Huldah 
 sinucino- "Naomi" in her room. Fifteen min- 
 utes later Forrest went by a kitchen- window, a 
 hoe thrown over his shoulder. 
 
 " There goes Forrest," thought Nanny. " He 
 has a job before breakfast, I suppose, down in 
 the garden. Hark ! hear him whistle. He is a 
 si>lendid whistler. Why, it's 'Naomi!' Seems 
 to me every body is interested in that." 
 
 Forrest had overheard Nanny's melodeon and 
 Nanny's sweet voice, and his whistle was only a 
 repetition of these. The spirit of the music he 
 could not con v^ey. He was deaf to that. Nanny's 
 prayer, though, was that Forrest might one day 
 come into that spiritual world in which the soul 
 is at home with God, and hears continually the 
 music of his voice. 
 
 This morning was a busy one. Both Forrest 
 and Nanny were anxious to get some of their 
 work out of the way, and after breakfast go over 
 to Skipper Bowser's. 
 
Tracking a Mystery. 177 
 
 " I. think," Forrest had said, " I tliink I had 
 better ask Skipper Bowser's advice on this sub- 
 ject—about what Gilbert said, and about the 
 money I found in the skipper's shop— and see if 
 he can't possibly recall something that will help 
 ine. Will you go with nie, Nanny ? " 
 
 " Of course, if you want me to.'' 
 
 "I would like to have you, very much." 
 
 Alas for Forrest ! He learned that the skip- 
 per started the night before for an up-country 
 business-tour, and would be gone for a number 
 of days. 
 
 " Wish I had stopped him last night," moaned 
 Forrest. " Now I must wait till he gets back." 
 
 Forrest also purposed to see Gilbert French at 
 once, but George told him that he had been at 
 the store that morning, and Gilbert was just 
 leaving to take the cars. 
 
 It seemed as if a high, thick wall had abruptly 
 risen between him and Skipper Eowser and Gil- 
 bert French. He was on one side of this wall, 
 and they were on the other, miles away, and he 
 could not get at them for five or six days. O, 
 how long and hard was the waiting at the foot 
 of that wall ! 
 
 "I suppose people are talking about me," 
 thought Forrest in this wretched isolation from 
 those he wanted to reach. 
 
178 Bi'ummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 Yes ; their tongues were busy. Nanny learned 
 that the morning she and Forrest went to hunt 
 up Skipper Bowser. Forrest came home when 
 he had learned of the skipper's absence. Nanny 
 tarried to make a call on Miranda Bowser. 
 
 " O dear ! Aunt Bowser," sighed Nanny, " I 
 did not think another trouble was coming ; and 
 this seems so unnecessary ! Have you heard any 
 thing about Forrest — any truth, I mean?" 
 
 To this very indefinite question Miranda Bow- 
 ser nodded her head. 
 
 " Yes ; only yesterday afternoon, before he 
 left home, Jerry heard that Gilbert Frencli was 
 talking about him — Forrest, I mean — and he 
 said he was going to call up and see Gilbert, and 
 jest deny it, and though he knew Forrest wasn't 
 coinin' back ; yet he said Forrest might come— 
 kind of had an idee that way — and he was a-goin' 
 to speak, when it became dark, to every person 
 he met, and be sure and not pass Forrest. Well, 
 I'm sorry for him, but it will come out right. 
 It's abominable, such a slanderin'." 
 
 " I know it ! Too bad ! " said Nanny, bowing 
 her head, and inspecting the knitting-work in 
 her hands. " We can't do any thing now except 
 to wait until the skipper and Gilbert get back." 
 
 " How does Aunt Huldah take it ? She can't 
 like it, I know." 
 
Tracking a Mystery. 179 
 
 " 0, she is very much stirred up about it, She 
 does not believe it. She won't hear of it." 
 
 " Huldah has disappointed nie. Why, when 
 she came I didn't know what you would do, nor 
 how Forrest would take it. But she seems to 
 like him—" 
 
 "Oyes!" 
 
 " And she likes you, I know. I thought it 
 would be so hard for you. We all think she 
 has seen some trouble when away, but we can't 
 tell what. Perhaps it was her sickness." 
 
 ]S"anny here let her work drop in her lap, and, 
 lifting her eyes, she said : 
 
 "When Aunt Huldah came I thought nothing 
 would go well, but I said if she had any good 
 qualities 1 would try to see them, and shut my 
 eyes to the others. That has helped me, and I 
 do think we have got along well together. I 
 try not to cross her — to see what is pleasant in 
 her. And then, she has seen some trouble — her 
 sickness, I dare say — that has made a change." 
 
 " O, we all say so. Skipper noticed the dif- 
 ference in her, and I saw it." 
 
 Aunt Huldah's troubles in the past were a 
 much-discussed subject of conversation. This 
 relative of Captain Frye who out of a silent 
 past had abruptly risen up in this changed char- 
 acter was as great a mystery as that tramp who 
 
180 Drwmner-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 had so suddenly gone away and sunk down into 
 silence. 
 
 Nanny did not choose to tell Aunt Bowser 
 about Gilbert French's call the night before; 
 that was an ugly dream she did not care to revive. 
 The call quieted ISTanny, and helped her. After 
 she had left Miranda Bowser's, she turned to look 
 back on the little house quietly nestling on the 
 edge of the green, nmnnuring grove. 
 
 *' It looks so restful," she said. 
 
 Nanny also cherished one thing the skipper's 
 wife had said about Forrest's trouble: 
 
 " We think he is right. I believe God knows 
 the poor boy is right. When things are that 
 way, and God knows they will come out so, I see 
 how it is He can be so calm while we are frettin' 
 and worryin'. He never frets ; He never wor- 
 ries. He knows how it is comin' out, and if we 
 can onlj' think so, and get that feelin', it helps 
 us and keeps us quiet; don't it?" 
 
 Nanny said at the time she thought it did. 
 She kept saying it. It was like that soft, pleas- 
 ant tune, "Naomi." How she wished Forrest 
 could appreciate it that way ! 
 
 " It worries him — this trouble does ! " she said, 
 closely watching him. 
 
 Yes, it did annoy him, though he knew he 
 \vas right. How he wished the hours would 
 
Tracking a Mystery. 181 
 
 linrry by ! Time, though, that to-day may go 
 like a wheel down-hill, to-morrow may provok- 
 ino'ly move with the slowness of a half-frozen 
 fly in l^ovember. All days, though, go at last ; 
 and one night Skipper Bowser came home in 
 the rattling, bumping Bowser chariot. 
 
 " Glad to git home, for more reasons than 
 one," he told his wife ; " and one thing is For- 
 rest's trouble that you wrote me about. I 
 believe we will let daylight through that mys- 
 tery, but we want mornin' to do it, and there 
 shall be a grand conf'rence to do it in." 
 
 The grand conference was held in the boat- 
 shop the next morning. The skipper and Mi- 
 randa Bowser came to it, of course. Forrest 
 had said to IS'anny : 
 
 " We want you, Nan — or I do." 
 
 " I'll go," said Nanny, energetically, " I want 
 to see this thing cleared up, as I believe it will 
 be. You know you are right, Forrest. Now 
 stand there and don't worry. You will come 
 out right ! " 
 
 That brightened the outlook for Forrest, and 
 a smile swept his handsome features. 
 
 In addition to these, there came to the boat- 
 shop George and Eliza. George had been sum- 
 moned by the skipper because he had seen a 
 mysterious light in the shop the night before 
 
182 Drummer-Boy of the RapjmhannocJc. 
 
 that strange discovery of tlie inone}^ by Forrest. 
 Tlie skippers sj)onse was responsible for this 
 summons. 
 
 " Jerrj, you ax George to come over. You 
 know he saw a h'ght in the shop," said Miranda. 
 
 " ISTonsense, Mirandy ! " replied Jerry. " Some 
 kind of a fire-fly that George saw, Mirandy. 
 He's full of his seein's." 
 
 "But fire-flies are not round every night of 
 the year, Jerry." 
 
 To this the discomfited skipper's only reply 
 was, "Wall," and George was invited. Eliza 
 came also, tliough uninvited. The two were 
 inseparable, though very unlike. George was 
 a short, slight, wiry mulatto, with big eyes for- 
 ever " seein' " things strange and uncanny. Eliza 
 was a large, loose-limbed negress, easy-natui-ed 
 and laughing; never caring to live, like her hus- 
 band, in that world of wonder, shadowy and 
 dim and mysterious, his admired head-quarters. 
 There was a world of horror into which she was 
 afraid he would venture, and that was the war. 
 She dreaded it. He was fascinated by it. 
 
 "If it wasn't for you, Lize," lie said, rolling 
 round his big, staring eyes, "I'd foUer dat boy's 
 drum into de army — dat am s'posin' — s'posin' — 
 he's gwine." 
 
 "Den I hope he won't gwine. 'Taint modes' 
 
Tracking a Mijstery. 183 
 
 fur colored folk to poke clemselbes into dis yere 
 war." 
 
 George was not convinced by this profound 
 remark. 
 
 To tlie skipper's grand conference, then, came 
 George, and EHza laughingly shuffled after him. 
 
 The skipper's sharp, keen features slowly 
 turned from one member of this conference to 
 another, as if he were cataloguing it, and saying, 
 " Forrest, Nanny, George, Elizay, and Mirandy 
 Jane." 
 
 The faces of all were eagerly turned toward 
 liim. 
 
 He then spoke to Forrest : " Now, Forrest, 
 jest tell us about that money you found here. 
 We'll begin at the beginnin'." 
 
 " Well, sir, I came in here one morning, and 
 that window there was open" — he pointed at a 
 window overlooking the brook journeying to 
 the great sea — " and on the bench before it was 
 a package of something. I don't know what 
 made me open it. I often wish I hadn't trou- 
 bled it, but I did ; and there was a roll of bank 
 bills. With the money was a piece of paper 
 saying — well, I didn't look at it sharp — but 
 something about putting money in the bank for 
 some young people, and saying there was an ad- 
 dress somewhere else — and — that — one could 
 
184 Drumyw^r-Boy of the Ra2')pahannoc7c. 
 
 write there if lie wanted to. That was all I 
 saw\ I hunted for another j^iece of paper, but 
 couldn't find it. Well, I had left the shop door 
 open, and feeling the draft was pretty strong I 
 went to siiut the door. AVhen 1 was on mj waj^, 
 the wind blew pretty freel}', but I shut the dooi", 
 and that stopped the big draft. When I got 
 back, paper and bills were gone, and I haven't 
 S'jcn them since. That is the whole of it and — 
 and — God knows it is true." 
 
 " That money is what Gilbert says he lost, 
 and ho says Forrest brouglit it here and then, 
 bein' sorry, you know, or afraid he'd be found 
 out, Forrest got up this story," said the skipper ; 
 " and Gilbert says Forrest knows where the 
 money has gone, and says, too, that Forrest 
 'lows the top money was on a Drewville bank " 
 
 "Yes, sir, I think the top bill was on a Drjw- 
 ville bank , but there are more bills than one on 
 the Drewville bank," said Forrest. 
 
 " That is very true," remarked the skipper, 
 triumphantly; "but you see it gives Gilbert a 
 handle. Now if we could find where the 
 money came from, or that address Forrest says 
 lie saw on — " 
 
 " Wall, Jerry, now tell wdiat you know," said 
 Miranda, quickly interrupting this counselor. 
 
 Then the skipper gave an account of the 
 
Tracking a Mystery. 185 
 
 tramp's strange call at the boat-shop the day he 
 disappeared. 
 
 " And, George, you tell about what you saw," 
 said Miranda. 
 
 George was ready. Twisting about those 
 spacious orbs under his eye-brows, he began : 
 " I were a-lookin' out de winder in de dead ob 
 night. Dar were a moon, cole an' chill, a-stealin' 
 froo de pines, an' a big wind dat gwine a moanin' 
 round, an' lookin' down dis way, mournful like, 
 I saw a-flashin'out ob dese yer winders — a-mourn- 
 ful like an' de wind kep' a-moanin', de pine- 
 trees a-sliibberin', an' de moon a-lookin' chill an' 
 lonesum, an' dat kin' ob flashin' light it come 
 free time, an' I sez dat wer a heap strange. 
 l>Qn all ob a-suddin' dar wer only a blackness, 
 an' de moon kept a-shinin' lonesum an' de tree 
 shibberin' an' de wind a-moanin' cole an' lone — 
 an — an — " 
 
 " Wall, George, what do you think all that 
 amounts to ? " asked the skipper in a practical 
 way. "What does it amount to, this lonesum- 
 ness of the moon and the shiverin' of the trees 
 and a — so on ? " 
 
 " I dunno ! " said George. " I kent 'splain. It 
 took de bref out ob me." 
 
 " Got sum lef,' honey, " said Eliza in a low 
 voice, and aside. 
 
186 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahaniwch. 
 
 "If we could find that piece of paper which 
 had ail address on it," suggested Nanny, " that 
 miglit give us some light. I mean the address 
 Forrest referred to." 
 
 "Wall," said the skipper, "that reminds me 
 that I picked up a piece of paper having on it a 
 street in IS'ew York. Miranda remembers I told 
 her about it, but — I can't find it myself, now." 
 
 This made a commotion. 
 
 " O let's hunt ! O let's hunt ! " cried mem- 
 bers of the conference. 
 
 Forrest made a good suggestion : " Let us 
 divide up the shop." 
 
 The shop was divided into sections, and for 
 half an hour there was the most patient as well 
 as minute examination. George explored in a 
 most characteristic way. The light, bright 
 places he left to the inspection of Eliza. Any 
 dark hole, any thing that seemed to be the ap- 
 propriate hiding-place of a mj'-stery, he thrust 
 his eager hands into. He was poking his head up 
 through an opening in the ceiling, into a gloomy 
 little loft, when he heard a shout. It was his 
 spouse crying out : " Got suflin' ! " 
 
 She had concluded to search more patiently 
 and thoroughly a shelf in her section. She took 
 down several planes. She brushed away a little 
 heap of shavings, and shouted, " Got suffin' ! " 
 
Tracking a Mystery. 187 
 
 All the seekers ran to her. She was holding 
 up a dusty slip of paper. 
 
 " Lemme see ! '' said the skipper. He pulled 
 out a pair of spectacles, fastened them on the 
 bridge of his nose, and then passed the paper 
 before them. He muttered, " Send — to Grand 
 Street—" 
 
 He stopped and shouted, " Hoo-ray ! This is 
 what I lost ! Hooray ! " 
 
 " flead the rest ! " said an eager voice. 
 
 He read, " Send to Grand Street, — ! " 
 
 " Dat am a heap strange," said George, 
 
 " But — but," said Forrest, " whom do we send 
 to?" 
 
 He was sorry he suggested this evident diffi- 
 culty, for the countenances of all fell instantly. 
 They had looked so eager, happy, and satisfied, 
 a short moment ago. 
 
 " Well, that is a conundrum ! " said jSTanny. 
 
 They all felt so unpleasantly the cliill of their 
 disappointment that it was a relief, as they 
 looked awkwardly and perplexed at one an- 
 ollier, to hear the door open, and in walked 
 Aunt Huldali. She had not been invited to 
 this grand conference, but if the skipper daily 
 for a week iiad been inviting her, slie could not 
 have been more eagerly welcomed by him, 
 
 " Hullo, Huldy ! Then you've got over at 
 
188 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 last! Glad to see ye! It's the first time 
 you've seen my shop since you came htme. 
 Look nat'ral, does it?" asked the skipper, 
 promptly stepping forward. 
 
 Aunt Iluldah did not seem to have eyes for 
 the council, but the council-room. She slowly 
 began to pass about the shop, noticing the 
 benches, the shelves, the walls, but she paid no 
 attention to any person present. They did not 
 ask for it. Her odd moods were known to them, 
 and they were accustomed to let her have her own 
 way. She finally stopped before a paper docu- 
 ment pinned to the wall, and began to read : 
 
 "We won't — drink any more — so help ns — 
 our Heavenly Father! Old Soldier." 
 
 "Old soldier?" she repeated, and read no 
 farther. 
 
 "A tramp — that man who was along here. 
 You may have heard us speak of him," explained 
 the skipper. 
 
 Aunt Huldali did not seem to hear him, so 
 absorbed was she in her own reflections upon 
 this humble but significant piece of chalk-work 
 on that paper, 
 
 " That writing looks very natural," she mut- 
 tered. "Who is Old Soldier?" 
 
 There was a minute of silence. 
 
Tracking a Mystery. 189 
 
 "That is the thing of it. Nobody knows," 
 said Nanny. 
 
 Next, Aunt Huldah noticed the little slip of 
 p;iper Eliza had found, and which was now lying 
 on a bench beneath that rudely chalked pledge. 
 She stooped down and read the address, " Send 
 to— Grand Street -New York— No. — ." 
 
 Aunt Huldah started back. She pat her 
 hand on her heart as if a sudden blow had there 
 been given her. Both these movements Nanny 
 noticed, for she closely watched her. Indeed, 
 Aunt Huldah was one of the kind of people 
 that you would be likely to watch any way. 
 
 "Why," she murmured, "it is the same hand- 
 writing as in the signature to the pledge, ' Old 
 Soldier.' " 
 
 " What % " asked the skipper, eagerly, and 
 lie bent down to inspect the address closely. 
 Then he took up the address and held it beside 
 the signature to the pledge. 
 
 "There!" he exclaimed. "Can't you all see 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes, yes!" "So it is!" "The very same 
 hand!" murmured one after the other. 
 
 " Huldah ! " exclaimed the skipper. But Hul- 
 dah had gone. Suddenly she had slipped out 
 of the conference and vanished from the shop. 
 
 "She is always queer !" somebody said, and 
 
190 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 the conference as a whole thought no more 
 about it. Nanny, however, did not let it go out 
 of her mind, but wondered at and reflected upon 
 Aunt Huldah's strange conduct. 
 
 " "Wall," observed the skipper, " we have 
 found out one tiling. What next ? " 
 
 " How are you going to address that 'ere man 
 now ? " asked Miranda Jane. 
 
 " Mought direct it to ' A Strange Pusson.' Dat 
 will fetch him," observed George. 
 
 " Direct it ' Old Soldier,' " suggested Forrest. 
 
 "Yes! yes!" said the skipper, and the sug- 
 gestion at once met with the approbation^ of 
 all the others. i^^ 
 
 Skipper Bowser sat down that very forenoon 
 to write the desired 'ietter, asking the trai^p if 
 he knew any thing ^out some money 'i^t in 
 the boat-shop, saying also tliat Forrest had been 
 charged with the theft of it. ,^||| 
 
 The skipper had attended a writing-school 
 once upon a time, and knew how to execute the 
 most wonderful flourishes with his pen, so that 
 his epistle was an ink marvel^ in the eyes of 
 George, who still lingered iq^the boat-shop and 
 watched admiringly the skipper. 
 
 " There, George, you take that to the office, 
 and we will wait patiently ftjijn "iJlMB^iPJ^ 
 the skipper, handing George tl 
 
Tracking a Mystery. 191 
 
 Then came a waiting but not altogether patient. 
 Day after day Forrest went to the post-office, and 
 as often Xanny went to a window from which 
 she could look up the road toward the office. 
 
 " I want to see how he looks when he comes 
 bringing the letter," said Nanny. 
 
 Day after day, though, she saw only a disap- 
 pointed face slowly coming down the dusty old 
 road. 
 
 " Keep up good heart, Forrest," IS'anny would 
 cheerfully say, and the shadow would ttjal 
 away from Forrest's face. 
 
 One day, though, there was no slow coming 
 down the road ; but l^anny saw Forrest running. 
 He was smiling. In one hand he held up a let- 
 ter and waved it, for he knew Nanny was watch- 
 ing and would see him. 
 
 '•It's come, Nanny! Post-marked, 'New 
 York,' and in the tramp's handwriting," he 
 shouted from the door-way. "Come over to 
 the boat-shop, and I'll get the skipper to read it 
 to you and Aunt Bowser." 
 
 An eager little circle in the boat-shop sur- 
 rounded the skipper, and he picked his way 
 through these words : 
 
 "Dear Skipper Bowser: Yes; I left that 
 money. in the boat-shop. I thought it was care- 
 
192 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 less in me to do so, and jet I knew if I offered 
 it to you again yon would refuse it. If I left it, 
 what could you do but deposit it ? Forrest says 
 the wind blew it away, I believe him. The wind 
 may blow it back again, and, if it does turn up, 
 put it in the bank, as T said, please, for those 
 young folks. You may like to know I am keep- 
 ing that pledge. 
 
 " I don't forget what she said : ' There is no 
 telling how high folks may go in this life even.' 
 " Truly yours, Old Soldier, 
 
 P. S, — It was just two hundred and forty-five 
 dollars. Ask Gilbert French how much he lost. 
 That will trip him," 
 
 " He's dreadful afraid to have ns know his 
 name," remarked the skipper. " Plowever, he 
 has made his affidavy. Hullo, Huldah, you 
 here?" 
 
 Yes, Aunt Huldah had arrived, and, an unno- 
 ticed listener, she had heard the letter. 
 
 "I thought that would reach him," Nanny 
 heard Aunt Huldah say, and Nanny noticed, 
 too, that an unusually happy smile chased the 
 shadows away from Aunt Huldah's face. It 
 only made Nanny wonder what Aunt Huldah's 
 relations to the tramp could possibly have 
 been. 
 
Tracking a Mystery. 193 
 
 " And now, friends," the skipper was saying, 
 " three cheers for — for vin — vin-di-ca-tion ! " 
 
 It was a long word, but the skipper got the 
 better of it at hist, and pointed at Forrest as he 
 wrestled the word into submission. Tlie " grand 
 conference" gave the three cheers triumph- 
 antly. 
 
 " There, Forrest ! Didn't I tell you so ? " said 
 !N"anny, her bright eyes sparkling with a deep 
 personal satisfaction. "jSTow you come home, 
 and two women will give you a good dinner." 
 
 Poor JSTanny! — while happy Nanny! Slie 
 knew that Forrest's triumphant "vindication" 
 was only clearing out of the way an obstacle to 
 his enlistment. This step was taken in a few 
 weeks. 
 
194 Drwnmer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 ENLISTED. 
 
 ^^T/'OU here again ?" said the sandj-bearded, 
 J_ bald-headed Captain Peirce, in the dingj 
 little recruiting ottice at the Port. "And want 
 to enlist ? I am ready. I expected you would 
 come. Liked the way you talked at the time 
 you were here, and some fishermen from your 
 place told me how you put the shot into those 
 charges against you. Ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 Here the officer threw back his head, and 
 tipped up his broad beard till it seemed more 
 than ever like a shovel with which this son of 
 Mars wished to shovel something out of the 
 way. 
 
 Having accomplished this feat, he attended to 
 the details of Forrest's case, told him about the 
 surgeon's examination he must pass, about the 
 time he would probably stay in camp before" 
 going "to the front" in Virginia, about a 
 drummer -boy's equipments and a drummer- 
 boy's duties. All needed steps were taken, For- 
 rest was duly enlisted, and the surgeon's gaunt- 
 
Enlisted. 195 
 
 let run suceessfnlly. Enlisted men went into 
 camp at once, and a short furlough might be 
 granted them. Forrest obtained the latter, for 
 there were yet some things to be finally looked 
 after on the Frye farm. The day he received 
 his furlough George saw him going down the 
 road, walking rapidly with a proud step. 
 " Got a furlough, George," said Forrest. 
 "Good for you! Wish I might hab one," 
 replied the mulatto. 
 
 George hardly comprehended the meaning of 
 the word for a soldier's liberty, for he reported 
 to Eliza that Forrest had got a " furlong." 
 
 '' Got a what ? " asked Eliza, who was bend- 
 ing over a corn-cake she Avished to make savory 
 as possible for George's dinner. 
 
 " A furlong; an' it make him feel a heap nicer 
 dan what Gilbert French got dis yer moinin'. 
 I saw it all, Lize." 
 
 " Dat reskul got hum, George ? Eb I were 
 dat white trash, I'd stay away, an' not show 
 myself in dese yer parts." 
 
 "I saw it all an' — an' — it would hab made yer 
 eyes open, honey, how dat skipper dress him 
 down. You see, dat Gilbert warn' lookin' fur 
 him — jes' got hum — an' de skipper tuk him an' 
 read part dat letter from de ole s©jer, an' den 
 lie ax Gilbert how much monev he lost, an* dat 
 
196 B rummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 Gilbert lie were a kind ob twisted up like, an' he 
 sey ' four hundred,' an' den he 'guess it mought 
 be free hundred an' fifty." Den ef dat skipper 
 didn' show all dat letter, chile, an' who leP dat 
 money, an' how much, an' he dunibconfounded 
 him, an' he choke, an' stammer, an' lose his 
 breff ; an' den — " 
 
 "What den, honey?" 
 
 " Yer Aunt Huldy she hab an inklin' what 
 mought be up, an' she came in — O so sof an' 
 sly — an' she did gib dat Gilbert a heap ob talkin'. 
 Mos' tuk de eyes out ob him, an' de ears off him, 
 an' she tol' him to tink he — a man — would be 
 a-gittin' up lies 'bout a boy wantin' to lay his life 
 down fur his country ! O, she tuk de peelin' 
 off him! He wanted to say suffin', an' she jes' 
 shet him up. She jes' show him, honey, how 
 incon-sist-sis-ter-ent it was to stir up dat boy 
 to goin' oif, and den try to stop him when a-goin' ! 
 Yes, Gilbert stirred him up— dat Forres' — to go 
 to de war, got him crazy 'bout it, an' den, when 
 de time come, he jes' try to keep him here, an' 
 frow him in prisum. O, dat Gilbert a reskel!" 
 
 Somebody else thought poorly of Gilbert 
 French. It was the recruiting officer at the 
 Port. 
 
 He asked Forrest one day where the " distil- 
 ler " was, but Forrest did not know. 
 
Enlisted. 197 
 
 " Has he come home ? " 
 
 " O yes, sir." 
 
 " The first time you came here I Hked one 
 thing you said about distilleries — where they 
 made lies and thefts and murders. 1 have often 
 thought of that man, and wondered when the 
 fires were all a-going, and the old distillery was 
 a-fuming and steaming, if that distiller knew 
 what he was manufacturing: in one place a vat 
 of lies, in another a vat of thefts. O, it's a mean, 
 miserable business, making money on man's mis- 
 ery ! You see I'm a kind of a crank on this sub- 
 ject. My brother-officers think I'm down on 
 drinking too much, but the army is the place 
 where I've seen too much of it. Now, I sha'n't 
 see you again here — " 
 
 " You ordered back to the army ? " 
 
 " I go to join my regiment to-morrow. Let 
 me give you some advice : Don't touch drink in 
 the army — what intoxicates, I mean." 
 
 " That is where I stand," said Forrest, with 
 pride. " I have taken sides in that thing long 
 ago." 
 
 " Keep the stand. Well, we shall meet, per- 
 haps, somewhere — and I wonder where it will 
 be!" 
 
 Forrest was silent. 
 
 " Well," said the army-officer, " when we get 
 
198 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 throngli tliis war we must go into another. 
 When we have finished up slavery we must 
 figlit intemperance. That's where the next 
 fight is going to be — overthrowing that evil. 
 That old fort of the evil one must go down." 
 
 As he spoke he pointed at the old distillery, 
 whose furnaces were glowing and chinmeys 
 smoking. 
 
 " Yes, we must fight that." 
 
 " We will fight it now," said Forrest. 
 
 " Good for you, boy ! Good for you ! You 
 beat on your drum a charge against it." 
 
The Furlough. 199 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 THE FUULOUaH. 
 
 IT was such a short furlough, and its last even- 
 ing had come. Forrest and Kanny once more 
 cUmbed the patient back of the Lion and sat 
 down on the stone under the old pine. 
 
 " Wonder if we shall ever sit down here to- 
 gether again," thought Forrest. 
 
 Nanny had the same thought. 
 
 The sun was still above the horizon. The 
 clouds were arranged in long strata of purple 
 and gold, and between them were spaces of 
 soft blue sky. From one to the other passed 
 the sun as if noiselessly stepping down the 
 rounds of a glorious ladder. It seemed so very 
 happy in the west, and the sea under that glori- 
 ous cloud-ladder was a pavement of marvelously 
 colored stones. Under the hill it was so harsh 
 and noisy, the surf sounding its dolorous trum- 
 pets. 
 
 " I hope every thing will be pleasant while I 
 am gone, I^anny," remarked Forrest. 
 
 " Aunt Huldah and I will do our best, For- 
 
200 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 rest. We lio23e to get along.- It won't take 
 much to keep us two women. There is the 
 rent from the blacksniitli's shop and — " 
 
 " And the things on the farm and the cow 
 and the hens." 
 
 " Yes, all will help. Then Aunt Huldah and 
 I think we can earn some money bj sewing." 
 
 " You shall have mj pay." 
 
 "Thank j'ou, we don't want it; and I don't 
 believe we shall need it if — " 
 
 "What's the if!" 
 
 " Gilbert French. Father owed him, and — I 
 don't know, but I imagine Gilbert may try to 
 take the farm." 
 
 " You think so ! If he does — " 
 
 " O don't you get fierce! Aunt Huldah will 
 defend me. O see ! the sun lias gone ! " 
 
 She was glad to change the subject. She did 
 not want the furlough of the drummer-boy to be 
 disturbed by that stirrer up of strife, Gilbert 
 French. The sun had reached a stratum of 
 cloud so broad that its disk was hidden. The 
 ladder-round was bigger than the glorious being 
 on the ladder, but he soon passed beyond it. 
 
 "There's the sun again! And, O, Forrest, 
 you haven't read the letter from old Mrs. De 
 Witt that came to-day." 
 
 " Why, no ; but I meant to." 
 
The Furlough. 201 
 
 " You men are not so interested in letters as 
 we women." 
 
 " Bnt I shall be in writing to you. I am going 
 to have a day — a cei'tain day every week for 
 writing to you." 
 
 "But what if some of those Southerners 
 Bliould gobble up the mail-bags ? " 
 
 " Then I'll gobble up the Southerners." 
 
 " O, you are too fierce to-night ! ]^ow the 
 old lady's letter has come just in time to quiet 
 you." 
 
 "Well, you read it, and let me see how it 
 affects me." 
 
 l^anny quickly traversed tlie opening sen- 
 tences, which made grateful reference to the 
 rescue from the yacht, and then came to this 
 passage : 
 
 " ' You may wonder why I write, but the 
 man that you called the tramp — ' " 
 
 " He turned up again, Nanny % " 
 
 " It seems so ; I'll read on : ' the tramp came 
 to my house and said he had been stopping in 
 ISTew York, and had heard that Forrest Hooper 
 was going to the war, and thought I might like 
 to know it, and came out into the suburbs to tell 
 me. He said he hoped he might get off him- 
 self, as soon as he was stronger. He has been 
 sick, I believe. I thanked him, and told him 
 
202 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 I would write to the Frjes. So I have been 
 thinking what message I could send. I have a 
 grandson, Belle's only brother, at the South, a 
 young, enthusiastic fellow, and I expect he will 
 be in the light. That makes me all the more 
 interested in the fact that Forrest is going. 
 You must wisli him all kinds of blessings for 
 me, and tell him to remember this, in lighting 
 the South : that while he is right in standing up 
 for the Union, and in standing out against slav- 
 ery, yet perhaps if he had been brought up at 
 the South, he might, like my grandson, be in the 
 Southern army ; and while he hates the sin he 
 must try to have charity for the sinner. There, 
 I don't know ar I've made my meaning clear. 
 People call me half-hearted, but I am not ; I am 
 whole-hearted in my devotion to my country, 
 and I pray that the black sin of slavery may go, 
 and the Union stay. I wonder if Forrest will 
 understand me — ' " 
 
 " O yes, I understand you. Grandma De Witt ; 
 and if I see him I will promise not to knock 
 him over with my drum-stick, but take him sort 
 of easy and see if I can't turn him into a good 
 Union soldier, Nanny." 
 
 " What if he should you., Forrest, and you go 
 to a Southern prison? O dear! There goes 
 the sun ! " 
 
The Furlough. 203 
 
 The sun, in its stately way of stepping down 
 that beautiful cloud-ladder, had reached the 
 lowest round and threatened to quickly disap- 
 pear in the sea. Did Nanny say, " O dear ! " 
 because the sun was going into the sea, or be- 
 cause Forrest might go into prison ? 
 
 " Wish I knew," thought Forrest. " I hate 
 sunsets. I shall come • back, JSTanny," he said 
 aloud. 
 
 " I hope so." 
 
 They were now standing facing that impru- 
 dent sun which, having descended one round too 
 many, was struggling with the cold, envious 
 ocean sure to smother its light, so happy and 
 joyous. 
 
 " There will be my pay, ISTanny, which, if — if 
 I shouldn't come back, some one must look after, 
 and I want every penny to come to you, and if 
 you should get married — " 
 
 "Forrest," she said abruptly, "how could I 
 get married ? " 
 
 " But if— if I come back—" 
 
 Nanny had now stood the strain of his going 
 away as long as possible, and when he suggested 
 that he might never come back she covered her 
 face with her hands and turned away. 
 
 " O, Nanny, don't— don't ! I didn't mean to ! 
 I— I—" 
 
204 Drummer-Boy of the RappahaiDiock. 
 
 Nanny cried more violently. The flood-gates 
 were open at last. 
 
 What could he say ? It was so awkward, so 
 embarrassing. lie tried once more, this sense- 
 less wretch, wondering in his heart if all that 
 went to the war made so miserable every body 
 about them. 
 
 "Nanny," he whispered, in the effort to say 
 something comforting, " 1 shall — never — marry 
 ■ — any body else." 
 
 Nanny's hands came down from her face in 
 an instant, and through her tears she smiled as 
 she said, " O you foolish boy !" 
 
 Her eyes now seemed full of pearls and dia- 
 monds like those western clouds the sun had 
 wrought upon with his magic. The eyes told 
 what the lips held back. Down the hill went 
 Forrest and Nanny side by side. The soft 
 western light was about them. The old hill 
 seemed to rise up and bless them, but below 
 them there was the s.urf angrily growling, and 
 tliere were the darkening waves outside the 
 ghastly surf. Did they think of this — that they 
 in their lives were leaving peace and light be- 
 hind them, and were going on to meet the 
 anger and blackness of war always dreadful ? 
 
 Did Nanny think of the latter when, half an 
 hour later, on her way with Forrest to a service 
 
The Furlough. 205 
 
 at the church, she said softly, musically — Nanny 
 could rarely speak any other way than in rare 
 melody, so beautiful was her voice — " Forrest, 
 I know you will be exposed to many things" — 
 she did not dare to mention details — ''and I 
 want you to take this ; read it, too, every day, 
 won't you ? That's a good boy." 
 
 As she spoke, she pressed a book into his 
 hands, 
 
 "What is it?" he asked. 
 
 "It is my Bible. You can put it in your 
 haversack and keep it without trouble, can't 
 you ? " 
 
 " O, yes ; but I hate to take your Bible." 
 
 " There are others at home. You will read 
 it, too, won't you ? " 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, but I hate 
 to rob you, I^anny. You are very kind." 
 
 " O you won't rob me. You keep it." 
 
 Forrest, glad to have it as a keepsake, was not 
 anxious to take it as a book to be read ; but 
 I^anny was desirous, and certainly half of the 
 time — people said oftener — she carried her 
 point. Would she carry it now ? Forrest 
 Hooper's conscience was not aroused yet to the 
 necessity of a life for God. He had certain 
 habits that had a religious look, but there was no 
 positively religious life behind them. If the 
 
206 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 weather were not too wet or too cold he 
 steadily went to church on Sunday. If he did 
 not forget it, or were not too sleepy, he dropped 
 at night on his knees and said '' Our Father." 
 Pie looked into his Bible because he had not yet 
 forsaken the Sunday-school, and such attendance 
 was certainly commendable. Would he now go 
 so far, though, as to read out of Nanny's Bible 
 every day for her sake ? This question he was 
 not ready to answer at once. Still, he did 
 not absolutely refuse the little book. 
 
 "I tliank you, Kanny, very much, and — I 
 will think it over." 
 
 " O, Forrest, you need it — or will need it. 
 We ail do ; and you will be at the war. And 
 if it is our heavenly Fathers book we ought to 
 notice it, certainly. There are soldiers who 
 won't care to read it and who may despise it. 
 You won't be afraid to stand up for it?" 
 
 That touched Forrest in a sensitive place. 
 Any appeal to the " ought " within him, any 
 summons to throw his strength on the side of a 
 cause that might be weak, any challenge to 
 stand up openly and bravelj^ and steadfastly in 
 defense of principle, was likely to find a quick 
 response from Forrest. 
 
 Captain Frye had educated him to " promptly 
 recognize the difference between right and wrong, 
 
The Furlough. 207 
 
 and take sides " in belialf of wliat was riglit. 
 Should there not be a taking of sides now? 
 
 "Afraid, Nanny, to stand up for the Bible? 
 Why, no. I should despise myself if I had any 
 fear. Only I haven't been in the habit — " 
 
 "Well, because we have neglected a thing 
 that is right, is that a reason why we should 
 keep on neglecting? And then, Forrest, you 
 will need it." 
 
 But Forrest was not yet open to conviction on 
 the side of his need. Nanny could not hope- 
 fully storm the fort on that side. To this at- 
 tack, he only replied, " Dare say, dare say." 
 
 "But don't you think it is right, and before 
 others don't you dare, to stand np for it?" 
 asked Nanny, promptly shifting her guns round 
 to another position. 
 
 " Of course I do, Nanny ; and I am going to 
 think it over." 
 
 " Tell me to-night, Forrest. Tell me at the 
 meeting. It will be — the — last — " 
 
 Her faltering voice touched Forrest. 
 
 "Nanny," he whispered, "let me think it 
 over. I will tell you in the church before we 
 go out. I will raise my hand if I desire to do 
 it. You will see it go up. And here is the 
 church." 
 
 The little building was hiding away in the 
 
208 Drummer-Boy of the RappahannocJc. 
 
 shadows but the lights were shining cheerfully 
 through the stained windows, as if trying to 
 keep up a sunset there in the place of the one 
 that had vanished out of the western sky. 
 Soft, faint notes from the organ stole out of the 
 open door-wa;/. 
 
 "It seems very pleasant," said Forrest. 
 
 " It is very pleasant," replied Nanny, chang- 
 ing a single word. 
 
 " I know you will miss — I mean I shall miss 
 the church, Nanny." 
 
 Would he miss this one privilege ? He was 
 going through an ugly experience that we only 
 understand when on the eve of losing something 
 long our privilege. He had often said to him- 
 self but never aloud, " Didn't know going away 
 would be so tough." 
 
 This last gathering for service in the church 
 he resolved to improve as faithfully as possible. 
 He would listen seriously to every word of 
 prayer that might be offered. To every word 
 spoken he would give attention. Not a syllable 
 that the minister uttered would he lose. He 
 would not go to sleep. Ah, how many faithful 
 little nudges Nanny had given him in sermon- 
 time to keep him awake. 
 
 " There, Nan ! " he once said. " I know I 
 am all black and blue where you nudged me." 
 
The Farlourjh. 209 
 
 " Nonsense, Forrest, only a tap ! " Nanny Lad 
 said. 
 
 To-niglit he would not give his faithful moni- 
 tor occasion to notice and lament his remissness. 
 When, in the sermon, he grew drowsy, he 
 aroused himself by wondering if the Bowsers 
 in their seat two pews ahead remembered that 
 he had said this wouM be his last service at 
 church. Remember % " Miranda Jane " might 
 be mindful of the fact, but the skipper was en- 
 tirely oblivious of it. He was taking his cus- 
 tomary nap, for which as yet his helpmeet had 
 found no remedy either in her pin-cushion or 
 her suggestions in private. His head was going 
 up and down, up and down, as regularly as the 
 M-alking-beam of a steam-boat. Example is 
 self-communicative. That motion up, that mo- 
 tion down, was very suggestive. It was very 
 fascinating. A drowsy mood stole over the 
 young soldier. The voice of the preacher be- 
 came a soothing, monotonous echo. Forrest's 
 'head went down, Forrest's head came up, and 
 soon Forrest joined Skipper Bowser in the cul- 
 prit's retreat the land of Nod. By and by the 
 people in the land of Nod seemed to be mak- 
 ing music, for some reason. A musician was 
 starting nj) something that sounded like an or- 
 gan. Some of the Nodites began to sing a 
 
210 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 tune that Skipper Bowser or some other delin- 
 quent must have carried to their land from the 
 church. How natural it did sound when — 
 suddenly Forrest awoke — and there was the 
 choir singing enthusiastically the last hymn : 
 
 *' Soldiers of Christ, arise, 
 And put your armor on ! " 
 
 Skipper Bowser had been rescued by his wife 
 from the land of Nod in time to take season- 
 able part in the singing of that last hymn. He 
 was roaring out his bass as heai-tily and inno- 
 cently as if he had never heard of the land of 
 Nod. Forrest's first thought was, "• How ap- 
 propriate this hymn is for soldiers going 
 away !" Then he wondered if the minister 
 had given it out because Forrest Hooper was 
 going to the war. 
 
 Forrest noticed Nanny, Her eyes shone as 
 they always did when her tears brightened them 
 into pearls. Had she been crying ? Her sweet, 
 clear treble faltered, and soon she stopped and. 
 bowed her head. 
 
 "Crying to see my inattention, I dare say! " 
 thought Forrest, rubbing his eyes wide open and 
 springing to his feet. " I really am ashamed 
 of myself. Yes, I wonder if that hymn was 
 given out for those going to the war! " 
 
The Furlough. 211 
 
 Forrest felt very remiss and miserable. He 
 had been getting along every well until that 
 nap. lie had not thought he should need to 
 keep that Bible. He was the soldier-hero who 
 would do his duty anyway. In fact, he was 
 too proud to take sides with any thing he 
 thought wrong. It might be helpful for some 
 to read tlie Bible, and in a general way it might 
 be advisable for him. It did not seem neces- 
 sary, though, to make sure of its reading every 
 day. But he was very much humbled now. 
 He was not tlie soldier-hero routing every tempta- 
 tion, but a poor, fallible, sleepy mortal who could 
 not keep his eyes open in church-time. What if 
 he were a sentinel on duty, and after that fash- 
 ion should sleep at his post ? He felt ashamed 
 of himself. The closing prayer of the old min- 
 ister was for the country and the army. He 
 very affectionately remembered tliose who might 
 be going out " from our neighborhood to stand 
 up in battle and defend their father-land "' 
 
 " That means me," thought Forrest, and he 
 felt at the same time ITanny's trembling form. 
 
 He felt that he had been a very unworthy, 
 ungrateful member of the congregation. Read 
 his Bible ? He ought to read something. The 
 minister's devout, fervent prayer was finished. 
 The benediction followed. It was then that 
 
212 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 Nanny, chancing to look toward Forrest, saw 
 a lifted hand, not held proudly aloft, but sus- 
 tained at an humble elevation. The next day 
 Forrest took ^Nanny's Bible away with him in 
 his soldier-pack. The parting was much more 
 trying than Forrest had imagined. Nanny 
 knew it would be hard. However badly he 
 might feel, Forrest had resolved that he would 
 not make " a woman of himself and cry." 
 
 AVhen the parting came Aunt Huldah tried 
 to say good-bye," but got no farther than a 
 " goo — goo," at last a " a good — de — de," and 
 busting into tears, rushed into the house. Nan- 
 ny did say cheerfully, "Good-bye," for she had 
 made as many resolutions to be brave like For- 
 rest. She attempted, though, to say when he 
 kissed her, " God bless you, dear Forrest ! " In 
 what language she expressed herself, neither 
 she nor Forrest could ever say, for she broke 
 down in the midst of a torrent of mingled tears 
 and tones, and followed Aunt Huldah into the 
 house, covering her face with her hands. And 
 tlie stoical Forrest, this hero-drummer of a thou- 
 sand battles, he felt a sudden choking in his 
 throat and the tears were running copiously 
 from his eyes. He tried to smother every- 
 thing with his handkerchief when he turned 
 and climbed into Skipper Bowser's wagon, that 
 
The Furlough. 213 
 
 waited to take him to the railroad-station at the 
 Port. The skipper saw him, and in a quieting 
 voice said : 
 
 "I wouldn't feel bad, Forrest. You will 
 come back again — " 
 
 " I — I — hope so," sobbed Forrest. 
 
 " And no doubt you'll come back, my boy, a 
 credit — a credit — " 
 
 Here the skip^jer abruptly paused, and, pull- 
 ing out a bandanna big enough to make a ship's 
 flag, turned his face away, and, plugging up his 
 eyes, gave his nose a ferocious' blowing. Then 
 he seized the reins, and, catching up tlie whip, 
 gave Old Billy a cut without mercy, crying 
 out, " You cantankerous old wretch ! We 
 sha'n't git them keers." 
 
 " Why," said Aunt Huldah, watching that re- 
 treating wagon, " I never saw Jerry act so with 
 his horse before." 
 
 Away went the wagon, the skipper turning 
 his head at intervals to blow his tears through 
 his nose, and then making to Forrest the most 
 irrelevant remarks, but all intended to be divert- 
 ing, while he picked from the dictionary the 
 most forcible epithets to throw at the head of 
 Old Billy. 
 
 " Did you get to the station in time ? " his 
 wife asked him when he returned. 
 
214 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Time ! Had half an hour to spare — that 
 horse acted so, and went hke Jeliu." 
 
 " How did Forrest seem ? " 
 
 " Cut lip ; a good deal^so. And that George, 
 what did he do, but rush out as we passed and 
 told Forrest that h^ was goin' to jine the array 
 and come, too, as soon as he could ! That made 
 Li-zay feel bad. So with Forrest and Old Billy 
 I had my hands full." 
 
 " Then Forrest felt bad ? Poor boy ! Now 
 you go over and tell Nanny all about it, 
 Jerry—" 
 
 " What, tell her Forrest felt bad ? That make 
 her feel better ? " 
 
 He went obediently, murmuring '' Women 
 are the strangest critters." 
 
 Nanny felt so lonely, that night, that Skipper 
 Bowser, always " good company," as country folks 
 said, was doubly welcome. "What I said 'bout 
 Forrest interested her," the skipper afterward 
 told his wife, AVheu he had gone. Aunt Hul- 
 dah retired to her room. Nanny still continued 
 down stairs and watched the open fire. As she 
 looked at its softly burning logs she thought 
 how many homes, liow many hearts, both North 
 and South, were made desolate by the departure 
 of kindred and friends fur the war. She had 
 imagined it before, but now she began to real- 
 
The Furlough. 215 
 
 ize it, Tliis altar, on wliicli slie was layinf^ a 
 sacrifice, grew broader and broader till its top 
 reached all over the land, and how many placed 
 thereon their sacritice ! And was this sacrifice 
 to be the greatest one? It had been such in 
 many lives. The little church by the cemetery 
 had opened its doors again and again to i-eceive 
 the still forms that, draped with their country's 
 flag, were borne slowly and reverently up the 
 aisle. Nanny did not care to think any fui-ther ! 
 Slie only faced the fire sinking lower and lower. 
 The embers grew dull and ashy. The sea-wind 
 njoaned about the house. How lonely it was! 
 To-night she not only missed Forrest, but her 
 dear father. The silence of the house, the dreary 
 silence, the emptiness, the absence of form and 
 sound, this nothingness, oppressed her more 
 than the heaviest burden. It was a relief to 
 take up her Bible. She and Forrest had agreed 
 to read the same chapters each day. To-night 
 it was the very first psalm. She wanted to 
 I'ead something besides. She opened to the 
 Ninetieth Psalm: "Lord, thou hast been our 
 dwelling-place." Yes, our quiet dwelling-place, 
 for the thought tends that way. To-night she 
 wanted to creep under shelter, to find a qniet 
 refuge from the storm breaking down upon her. 
 To-morrow she would be brave; to-night she 
 
216 Drummer-Boy of the Rcqypahannock. 
 
 only wanted to be sheltered and to trust. That is 
 our privilege to-niglit ; to be weak and trustful 
 and lie helpless and still in God's arms. In the 
 thought of that assurance, Nanny found peace 
 and so began her sleep. To-morrow she would 
 gird up her soul and be a warrior in the fight ; 
 to-night, though, only a babe in the mother's 
 
By the RappcUuuDiock. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 BY THE RAPPAHANNOCK. 
 
 THE army of the Potomac was on its way to 
 tlio R-appahannock. Tlie battle of Antietam, 
 or Sliarpsbiirg, had been fought in September, 
 1862, and both the Confederate and Federal 
 armies were now south of the Potomac. Forrest 
 Hooper had beaten his drum at the front for 
 the first time at Antietam, and was to-day in 
 the blue-coated columns moving toward the 
 Rappahannock, He had been interested in 
 the march down through Virginia. Autumn 
 had reddened the forests, or putting the dull, 
 faded emerald of the foliage into its crucibles, 
 transmuted all to a magic vivid gold. The 
 Blue Ridge Mountains had bordered with a 
 frame of amethyst these glories. Forrest was 
 not accustomed to mountain scenery and it fasci- 
 nated him. So ethereal were those hills, so un- 
 substantial and mist-like did they seem, that 
 Forrest wondered whether, after a night of 
 strong winds, they might not be blown away. 
 Every morning, though, there they were — rising 
 
218 Drummer- Boij of the Rdppahannock. 
 
 up against the western sky, glorious, peaceful, 
 stable — the everlasting hi41s. It hardly seemed 
 to the drinntnei'-boy as if, amid these peaceful 
 glories of the landscape, war harsh and violent 
 could have any place. The facts, however, 
 Forrest was daily witnessing. Pie would mai-cli 
 past some chinmey rising out of a big ash-heap, 
 the desolate monument marking the spot where 
 had stood a house fired in the war. He would 
 liear a fierce rumbling in an adjacent road, and 
 a grim battery would go by, or up would ride a 
 detachment of cavalry, and clattering and clank- 
 ing they would drive past him. A ti-ain of 
 lieavj^ baggage-wagons might be heard as they 
 bumped and jolted over the road. Tlie army 
 of the Potomac, previously commanded by 
 General McClellan, had received in November 
 a new commander, General Burnside. He had 
 ordered his army into the long road that would 
 ultimately lead to Richmond, granting that the 
 way was unobstructed. He was now heading 
 for the Rappahannock River, long since historic, 
 and he expected to cross it at Fredericksburg. 
 Forrest was feeling the weariness of this march, 
 day after day. Plucky and resolute, he would 
 make no complaint to his comrades, but Av^thin 
 he often said, "I would like to lie down and 
 rest a week." 
 
By the Etqjpahannock. 219 
 
 Tt was a mild November afternoon, when lie 
 felt more than usually tired, and the welcome or- 
 der to halt rang down the line of the long, toiling 
 columns at half-past three. It was greeted with 
 a shout. That lengthening row of men broke 
 up as suddenly as the collapsing of a tent when 
 a tornado strikes it. Away they went to right 
 and left, dropping beside the rail-fences that 
 bordered the road. On either hand was a pict- 
 uresque old forest of oak that echoed with the 
 laugh and shouts of the merry soldiei'S. Some 
 pulled out their old army pipes and quietly 
 and contentedly began to smoke. Others in 
 little groups were talking about some odd ad- 
 venture that day, or discussed the route ahead, 
 how far off the Rappahannock might be, 
 whether Burnside or Lee, the Confederate com- 
 mander, would get first to Fredericksburg, and 
 whether any trace of the enemy had been seen 
 that day. Suddenly the word was passed along 
 that the halt would be for an hour at least. 
 The old muskets were here and there stacked at 
 once, and soldiers were seen running for the 
 top rail of the section of fence near them. Fire- 
 wood was abundant, and soon the little camp- 
 fires began to smoke along the line of the road. 
 From the stuffed haversacks came the coffee 
 rations. There was an appetizing odor quickly 
 
220 Drum) tie)'- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 in the air, and coffee and hard-tack were dis- 
 patched eagerly. A few broiled a piece of pork 
 to give the biscuit a flavor. Forrest, bowing 
 on his drnm, appreciated this opportunity for 
 strengthening the inner man, but something else 
 he wanted more. 
 
 " O ! " he said, bowing his head lower. " This 
 poor drummer-boy wants to — to — go to sleep." 
 
 He suddenly raised his head. He looked 
 around him. He saw tlie twinkling fires in the 
 road. He scented the coffee and the crisp, brown 
 pork. He heard the merry sound of the laughter 
 echoing among the men, and caught the notes of 
 a resonant song from a soldier in the woods. 
 
 " Those woods! " thought Forrest. " How com- 
 fortable they look ! What a uice rest a fel- 
 low could have over there ! Going to stop here 
 an hour at least, are we ? Then I mean j ust to 
 have a small nap ! " 
 
 He squirmed between the rails back of him, 
 crawled to the base of an old oak, and then 
 wormed round to the side towai'd the forest, and, 
 leaning his head back against the trunk, shut his 
 eyes and — did the next thing : he went to sleej). 
 His drum was between his legs. One hand 
 clutched his drum-sticks; in the other was a let- 
 ter that the army-mail had brought him that 
 morning, before the wearisome uiarch of the day 
 
By the Rappahannock. 221 
 
 was begun. It was a letter from JS'anny. She 
 had 110 complaint to make of any hardsliips at 
 home, but wrote in a brave, hopeful way, telling 
 Forrest that he must remember that Christmas 
 was coming, and he would have a package from 
 home. It was in a letter from Skipper Bowser, 
 whose indignation boiled over into his letter, that 
 Forrest learned that Gilbert French was press- 
 ing Nanny for the payment of some of her 
 father's debts, but if Forrest heard of it he must 
 not worry, for the skipper would not see her 
 homeless. " Keep quiet," he wrote. 
 
 As Forrest had not known that Gilbert was 
 turning the grindstone with any special alacrity, 
 the letter from the skipper had any thing but a 
 quieting effect on him. Gilbert French, because 
 J^anny would not be his " friend," had per- 
 sistently and repeatedly annoyed her. At meas- 
 ured intervals he would present himself, saying 
 a note her father had given him must be paid or 
 he would begin a lawsuit. Captain Frye was a 
 better man for other people's interests than his 
 own, and had never conducted his business in a 
 thoroughly methodical way. He went so quickly 
 over the threshold of another life that he had 
 no time to turn round and say what should be 
 done about the things that had been his in this 
 life. The making of a will is a concern for our 
 
222 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 calm inoiueiits of health, not for those of our 
 eickiiess and dyhig. 
 
 "I only wish father had left his accounts so 
 that I could know how his debts stood, for I 
 don't believe father owed Gilbert French all he 
 claims," Nanny would sometimes say; "*but 
 there — I can't prove any tiling. Gilbert sends 
 me these notes, which have father's signature, 
 and I can't deny them. However, I won't 
 be Gilbert's particular friend, and nuirry him, if 
 I have to go barefoot." 
 
 Gilbert French wonld send his " confidential 
 clerk " at the distillery, one Pickard, and when 
 Nanny saw him out in the road she trembled. 
 She knew he would bring a new demand from 
 Gilbert. The appearance of the clerk was pecul- 
 iar. There was a general aspect of pointedness 
 to the man. This was owing in part to the shape 
 of his hat. It was of silk and always had a con- 
 ical crown. But many other things about him 
 seemed to come to a point. There was his nose. 
 Forrest used to say that one smart blow on the 
 back of the head would drive him like a nail 
 into any board before him. There was his chin ; 
 that also came to a point. His clothes had a 
 way of nipping him, and each bony arm and 
 each bony leg seemed to come to a point also. 
 And that his tongue also came to a point, and 
 
Bu the llappahannock. 223 
 
 he could sting with his words, every body knew. 
 A sluirper, thornier rascal could not be found. 
 
 One piece of Nanny's belongings after another 
 had been sacrificed in response to the greed of 
 this messenger. The blacksmith's shop, "the 
 lower meadow," " the barn in the woods," two 
 carts, a sleigh, a cow, had been yielded up to 
 satisfy the appetite of the monster, but ic was 
 like throwing chips into the crater of Etna, 
 thinking to pacify and stop it. 
 
 "Gilbert can't take the house," Nanny had 
 often said. 
 
 No ; but that was because another jiarty had, 
 by mortgage, previously devoured a part of it. 
 Two rooms Aunt Huldah could call hers. 
 
 On the mortgage Nanny and Aunt Iluldah 
 tried to keep the interest well paid up. To do 
 it and meet other demands kept them working 
 hard by day, and sometimes worrying by night. 
 
 To Gilbert Nanny had surrendered a portion 
 of the beloved Lion. To his head she fondly 
 clung, for on the Lion's head was the old pine 
 that extended its benedictions over the spot 
 where she and Forrest had so often sat. In her 
 letters to Forrest she said nothing of these trials. 
 The letter wliich the drummer-boy received the 
 morning of the march, in this chapter, said 
 nothing about Gilbert. The skipper denounced 
 
224 Drummer-Boy of the liajypahannock. 
 
 hiin to the drummer-boy. Sleej), thoui^h, is that 
 beneficent force leveling our rough ways and 
 bridging our deep streams, and for Forrest that 
 work of leveling and bridging was now done. 
 He saw Nanny in his dreams; he saw the old 
 homestead, and the sunshine was upon it, and 
 IS^anny stood in the door-way. She came to him 
 and spoke to him. How much of his sleep was 
 covered by this dream he could not say. 
 
 This bowed young sleeper in the old Yirgin- 
 ian forest, the November wind making a light, 
 agreeable music in his ears as it touched and 
 rustled the withering oak-leav^es above, took no 
 measurement of the time in that delightful rest. 
 
 His dream was becoming very vivid. Nanny 
 was advancing toward him, her hand out- 
 stretched, her eyes beaming, her voice making 
 sweeter music than any forest wind, as she said, 
 " O Forrest, I want to tell you. They have 
 concluded to promote you, and make you a big 
 major general of all the drummers, and 3'ou are 
 to have your head-quarters at home, and do your 
 drumming there, and they can hear you down in 
 the army. Come ! I'll never say a word if you beat 
 your drum all day and all night. Qome ! " He 
 heard her musical voice. He felt the warm, con- 
 fiding touch of her hand as she extended it. He 
 rose to go home and beat there his drum for free- 
 
By the Rappahannock. 225 
 
 dom, when suddenly be felt a blow on the bead, 
 and beard Gilbert French's ras23ing voice say. 
 " That is the drum I want to beat ! Take that ! " 
 
 He awoke at once, and he was alone in the dark 
 somewhere, and through this blackness he heard 
 oak-leaves rustling overhead. In his lap was his 
 drum, but lying across it he felt a rough, ragged 
 branch. He rose to his feet, and through the 
 mysterious blackness above him he saw, far 
 away, little white stars, while that sound of rus- 
 tling, withering oak-leaves was repeated between 
 him and the little white stars. 
 
 " Bah ! " he muttered. " I know where I 
 am — down in that old Virginia forest ! And a 
 dead branch tumbled down and struck me. Well, 
 good-by. dear Nanny ! Don't worry ! I'm glad 
 we are not so far away after all. And the war 
 will be over soon, I hope, and I will hx that Gil- 
 bert French. ]N"ow I must get out of this scrape ; 
 and where's my regiment? O what a fool I was 
 to go sleep ! No, I won't say that, for I wouldn't 
 have seen Nanny. But they have all tramped 
 on, and who knows where they are ! " 
 
 He was now looking over the rail-fence into 
 the road that a few hours before was full of chat- 
 tering soldiers and twinkling camp-fires. Now 
 it was still and dark. But hark ! He heard the 
 piercing, echoing notes of a bugle. 
 
226 Drummer- Boy of the Rcqypahannock. 
 
 " Good ! " he exclaimed. " I'll go for that ! " 
 
 He sprang over the fence and started in the 
 direction of the bngle-notes. He abruptly halted. 
 "Who could say whether it might be a IS^orthern 
 or a Southern bugle ? And hark, again ! He 
 caught the sound of clattering hoofs. Somebody 
 on horseback rode by, and, from the sound of 
 the clanking equipments, he knew it was a cav- 
 alryman. Then he heard a shout in the rear, 
 and up rode a party of horsemen, one of whom 
 sent a pistol-shot somewhere, jjrobably after the 
 man ahead. 
 
 " Coming pretty close home!" muttered the 
 drummer-boy down by the darkened roadside. 
 " Wonder if those were Johnnies after Yanks 
 or Yanks after Johnnies ! I would like to know 
 whether I am inside of our lines or not. What, 
 if the Johnnies gobbled me up ? " 
 
 That made him shiver. But lie must do 
 sometliino;, and he slowly moved alonor the road. 
 He had not gone far before he saw a faint flash 
 over in the woods. It was onl)" a flash, for dark- 
 ness quickly took its place. Then it came again, 
 and as suddenly went. 
 
 "That's queer!" reflected Forrest. "And 
 there it is again ! " 
 
 A reddish-yellow light once more flashed up, 
 and then passed away. 
 
By the. RappaliiUinoch, 1\L^i 
 
 "That is queer," said the inquisitive druin- 
 iner-boy; and, climbing the rail-fence on the 
 right hand side of the road, moved toward tliis 
 mysteriously coming and vanishing radiance- 
 How queer it all seemed ! He wondered whether 
 he really had been a tired drummer, who, leav- 
 ing a road noisy with soldiers, had gone over 
 into the woods, and there had dreamed about 
 Nanny Frye. Hadn't he always been moving 
 through dark woods like these, and was not the 
 past a fiction ? ISTo ; there was his drum giving 
 a hard form to some other kind of a life, and in his 
 breast-pocket, next to his heart, was a little book 
 given by a person in a previous period of his 
 history. He liked to feel it there. Old soldiers 
 who swore, and used all kinds of disreputable 
 language, had yet told him there was a charm 
 about a Bible carried next to the heart. Cer- 
 tainly Nanny's Bible carried next to the heart 
 would keep him if any thing could. But — what 
 about that soft, strange, coming-and-going illu- 
 mination before him ? 
 
 He went on cautiously as possible, stepping as 
 lightly as he could on the dead twigs and with- 
 ered leaves, and came near enough to be able 
 to say, " Must be a camp-fire in a low place ! 
 Are they our folks or Johnnies — Southerners ? " 
 
 Forrest passionately loved an adventure, and 
 
228 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 eagerly but cautiously pressed ahead. Dropping 
 on his liands and knees he crept slowly toward 
 the light, and peeped over the edge of a deep 
 hollow. What if a capture could be effected, 
 and he be the captor ? 
 
 " Fire there ! " he said, silently. " Man too. 
 Blue or gray ?" 
 
 A solitary soldier was sitting down in a hol- 
 low, where he had kindled a small camp-fire. 
 Whether the man wore a blue coat or a gray one 
 was a very important question. 
 
 " If he be a Southerner shall 1 try to take him 
 prisoner? Yes, sir!" queried and answered 
 Forrest. " He has got his back turned toward 
 me. Wouldn't it be a lucky thing — " 
 
 i^o ; it was an unlucky thing that happened 
 here, for Forrest, leaning over the edge of the 
 hollow, lost his balance, and down he rolled into 
 the hollow, while the stranger jumped up, shout- 
 ing, " Zounds ! What's comin' ! " 
 
 The next moment Forrest was bumping into 
 this stranger, but valorously shouting, "My 
 prisoner ! " 
 
 " Don't know about that, young man ! You've 
 got on a blue coat, and so have I," said the man, 
 cooll3\ 
 
 " O ! " said Forrest, sheepishly, and trying to 
 laugh, "I beg pardon — " 
 
By the RappahannocJc. 229 
 
 " You needn't, comrade — but, look out ! There 
 goes your drum into—" 
 
 ]^o ; the occupant of the hollow sprang for- 
 ward, arid rescued Forrest's drum, which had 
 slipped from its wearer, and was rolling into the 
 fire. 
 
 " Tliank you ! Well, I didn't mean to make 
 this fuss. I saw your light — " 
 
 " That's right ! Make yourself to hum. What 
 regiment?" 
 
 " The Tenth." 
 
 "That's mine." 
 
 " Is it ? Good ! " 
 
 "And there's my drum, too. We do the 
 same thing for a livin'." 
 
 " But I never saw you before." 
 
 " O, I only j'ined this regiment lately." 
 
 " Well," said Forrest, laughing, " are you sure 
 you belong to it now ? Do you know where you 
 are now ? " 
 
 " O, we are inside the lines. Soon as it is 
 daylight I am going to move on, and ketch up 
 if I can. I — I — sat down when we halted, and 
 shut my eyes, and that's the last I knew. When 
 I woke up, I was alone, and I reconnoitered well 
 as I could in the dark, and made up my mind to 
 have a fire if I could put it where it would be 
 out of sio-ht. No knowin' how near we are to the 
 
230 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 tail-end of the army, and ifliglit be gobbled up. 
 I stumbled down into this thing, and I revenged 
 myself by scorchin' it with a fire. And you got 
 left, too ? " 
 
 " That's how it was. Got asleep over in the 
 woods — Say ! " 
 
 Forrest had broken off suddenly, and stared 
 into the man's features swept by flashes from 
 the lowdy little camp-tire. 
 
 "Haven't I seen you bc3fore?" 
 
 "Shouldn't w^onder ! Tliis world is small. 
 Ain't much, compared with a world like Jupiter, 
 they say." 
 
 "But I mean, out of the army. Your voice 
 sounds natural. Haven't I seen you outside 
 the army ? " 
 
 The man looked at Forrest. 
 
 " Why — yes — I guess you have — and you 
 are — " 
 
 The two stared at one another in helpless 
 confusion, trying to recall a past which would 
 slip away froui them, in spite of hard efforts to 
 grasp it. 
 
 " 0,1 know now!" exclaimed Forrest. "Didn't 
 you come to our place in a yacht and — " 
 
 " O, I see ! I see ! You that Cap'n Frye's boy ? 
 Now, you ain't ; are you ? Why, I'm Griffin ! 
 If things don't happen queer ! O land ! " 
 
By the RupiKihamiock. 231 
 
 Griffin, the ex-yaclitsraan, had seized Forrest's 
 arm, and, twisting him round until he fronted 
 the fire, was looking into his face. 
 
 " It's you, sure as you're born ! Comrade, I 
 give ye welcome ! Take any thing you see, and 
 stop long as you want to ! " 
 
 " That's hospitable." 
 
 " JSTow set down, and tell us how all the folks 
 are : that Skipper Bowser, and that tramp, and 
 that gal — I forget her name, but slie had a pretty 
 voice as ever I seed on one." 
 
 It was pleasant to find some one who had ever 
 seen Skipper Bowser, and delightful to tell 
 about N'anny Frye, especially as Forrest could 
 turn his blushing face away from tlie fire, and 
 let it be seen only by the stars, whicli tell no 
 tales. As for the tramp, Forrest could not tell 
 all that he knew without reviving that ugly story 
 of Forrest's asserted theft. 
 
 " The last I knew of the tramp," he said, "he 
 was in ISTew York." 
 
 " O, I spect he is a-trampin' round somewhere, 
 and will turn up here some time." 
 
 Here Griffin gave a yawn. 
 
 " I s'pose we'd better turn in ; hadn't we ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " We'll be up early in the mornin' and start 
 off, if you say so." 
 
232 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 "When GrifBn said " turn in," lie did not mean 
 turning in to a shelter. Each soldier was pro- 
 vided with what was called a half-shelter. It 
 was a piece of cotton drilling about five feet 
 two inches long, and four feet eight inches wide. 
 Each piece liad its corner holes for stake loops. 
 These half-shelters had also their button-holes 
 and buttons. Two soldiers, buttoning their half- 
 shelters together, had a roof between them and 
 the sky. Soldiers on the march, though, did not 
 care for this protection if the night were pleas- 
 ant. They would wrap themselves in their 
 blankets, and stretch out under the friendly 
 stars, and enjoy a good night's rest. The shel- 
 ter-tent, tliongh, in other weather, would be 
 very acceptable. Two soldiers would stick their 
 muskets, the bayonets fixed, into the ground. 
 The distance between the muskets would be 
 that of a half-shelter. A guy -rope, which 
 accompanied every half-shelter, would be run 
 from the trigger-guard of one musket to that of 
 the other. Of course, two forked sticks could 
 be used instead of the guns. Over the rope 
 would be stretched the little tent, and under it 
 would creep two wearied children of Mars. 
 Forrest and Griffin did not need a tent the night 
 they met. They stretched out in their blankets 
 under the lee of a great oak. 
 
By the Rappahannock. 233 
 
 Forrest had done one thing that night which 
 attracted the attention of Griffin. Before he left 
 the little camp-fire down in the hollow he pulled 
 out of his breast-pocket Nanny's Bible and read 
 a psahn. 
 
 " What you doin' ? " inquired Griffin. 
 
 " O, reading." 
 
 Should he tell Griffin wdiat it was ? Forrest 
 had found out in the army that some of the sol- 
 diers thoroughly respected the Bible and read it. 
 Otiiers slighted it. A small minority sneered 
 at it. It sometimes took a stiff backbone of 
 character in one to stand up squarely on the side 
 of the Bible. It took a stitfer backbone to con- 
 stantly read it. Forrest was only human because 
 he looked at his new chum, and because his hand 
 on Nanny's Bible hesitated about bringing it 
 out and opening it. 
 
 " Take sides, Forrest ! " he seemed to hear 
 Captain Frj^e saying, and out came Nanny's 
 Bible promptly. 
 
 Griffin saw it. 
 
 When Forrest, wrapped In his blanket, had 
 stretched out beside Griffin, the latter said : 
 
 " If — if you will let me ask you — was that the 
 Bible you were readin' ? " 
 
 " Yes, it was." 
 
 " I don't know what my old mother would say." 
 
234 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " O, when I left home I told her I would read 
 it every day, 'Twould tickle her to death if 
 I did read it. I ought to give the old woman 
 more comfort." 
 
 " I iiaven't any mother — none living." 
 
 " You haven't ? Well, now," said Griffin, in a 
 tone of new and sudden interest, as if pitying his 
 young brother-drummer, " see here ! Hadn't we 
 better tent together ? I want a kind of stiddy chap 
 like you — but there ! You may have a chum ! " 
 
 " No, I haven't. I didn't like the boy I was 
 with — we didn't think alike, j'^ou know — and we 
 agreed to break partnership." 
 
 " I want a partner, and I guess we had better 
 hitcli on together, and you want some body, you 
 know, who won't make fun of you when you 
 read that book — " 
 
 " That will be pleasant." 
 
 " O, I know we shall get along together." 
 
 It was a true prophecy. The partnership 
 proved an agreeable one. Where two soldiers 
 tented together, one sometimes was known as 
 " the old man," and the other as " the old woman." 
 Forrest generally referred to Griffin as " the old 
 man" or " Cy," as " the old man" in full wrote 
 his name Cyrus Griffin. He on the other hand 
 generally spoke of Forrest as " junior partner " 
 
By the Rappahannock. 235 
 
 or " Bub," never as "the old woman," but some- 
 times as " joung lady." 
 
 Before tliej went to sleej^ that night Forrest 
 remarked : 
 
 " Did you see any cavalry go by before I 
 came ? " 
 
 " Heard an awful racket out in the road, and 
 a pistol, I thought. What was it ? " 
 
 " Don't know. They were after somebody." 
 
 " Was he much aliead ? " 
 
 "A pretty good piece. I couldn't make out 
 any thing very clearly, only that somebody was 
 going it, and some other folks were chasing hard." 
 
 " Probably some of our people cliasin' a gray- 
 back. Those Southerners are cuttin' round at 
 all hours." 
 
 " Where do you think we shall have the next 
 brush with them ? " 
 
 " I wish it might be Eichmond. Well, I'm 
 sleepy. I wish 'em well— and as I feel good- 
 natured, and won't touch them, I hope they 
 won't trouble me. Good night ! " 
 
 " Good night ! " 
 
 In a moment " the old man " spoke again. 
 
 " O, did you leave much fire down in that 
 holler?" 
 
 "Not much. I was afraid somebody might 
 see it, out in the road." 
 
236 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Well, good luck to 'em. If any Johnnies 
 come this way, may they go and gobble up' the 
 next ciimp — no, may they behave decent and go 
 home. - Good night ! " 
 
 " Good night ! " 
 
 For a little while Forrest lay in silence, look- 
 ing at the stars far above the forest, those little 
 camp-fires burning in heavenly hollows. He 
 was thankful for company ; thankful, too, for the 
 knowledge that he was in Union lines. He won- 
 dered where that fugitive horseman was, whether 
 he might be riding on and on. He saw that 
 shadowy figure darting by in the night-time. 
 He imagined his flight through the Ibrests out 
 into the open country, through the villages, on 
 and on and on and on — 
 
 Forrest was asleep. That is one excellent 
 way of going to sleep : to restrict our thoughts 
 to one route, to a steam-car route, it may be, and 
 follow it, follow, follow — till the tired courier 
 shuts his eyes and tumbles down into a deep 
 Jiole lined with soft cushions and called — sleep. 
 
 Forrest was in this cushion-lined hole of for- 
 getfulness for several hours and then awoke. 
 What awoke him he could not say, but chancing 
 to turn over in his unmattressed bed, that he 
 might avoid a small tree-root, he caught a flash 
 of light from the fire in the hollow. 
 
Jjy the Rappaliannodx. 237 
 
 " Why, how is tliat ? " wondered Forrest. " I 
 did not leave enough tire there to last till this 
 time. I'll see what that means." 
 
 He threw off his blanket, rose, and went 
 toward the fire-flashes. He looked over the edge 
 of the hollow and there was a man — bare-headed, 
 his back turned toward the road and his hands 
 extended toward the flames which he had evi- 
 dently fed from a little pile of brush gathered 
 by Griffin. Could it be Griffin ? It must be. 
 
 "Old man, that you? Can't you sleep?" 
 asked Forrest. 
 
 ]^^o " old man " could have sjjrung out of that 
 hollow quicker than its present occupant. As 
 he rose he snatched from the ground a broad- 
 brimmed, slouching hat, of a style \vhich the 
 Confederates liked to wear when they were rich 
 enough to have their choice ; and this hat estab- 
 lished the man's army relations. Besides, the 
 fire now between him and Forrest lighted np 
 his uniform, which was plainly gray. And there 
 was this fine opportunity for a Confederate 
 prize, which would make Forrest a hero in his 
 regiment, springing up out of that hollow and 
 vanishing into the night ! 
 
 " Halt ! " screamed Forrest, giving chase round 
 the edge of the hollow. " Halt ! my prisoner ! 
 Halt, I say!" 
 
238 Drummer- Boy of the R'l'ppahannock. 
 
 Tiirninp: Lis head sliglitlj as lie ran, he 
 shrieked to his partner, " Help-p-p-p." 
 
 And lielp came — pell-mell, tumbling, jump- 
 ing, hooting, tearing along — in the shape of " the 
 old man," whose boast it was that he"allers 
 slept with one eye open and one ear ont." But 
 neither the deer, Forrest, nor the tornado. Griffin, 
 cuuld have overtaken that fleeing " butter-nut," 
 had it not been that, running in the shadows 
 and amid obstacles, he hit his foot against a 
 root protruding from the ground, and down and 
 over he went ! 
 
 "Now I got ve 1 " growled Forrest, throwing 
 himself upon his prize. 
 
 " Me too ! " grunted the old man, covering 
 any part of this capture lie could find. 
 
 Griffin was a person of great strength. His 
 hands had a grip like iron, and tliough the 
 Confederate squirmed spasmodically it was of 
 no use. 
 
 " Let — me — up ! " he gasped. " I'll — go — 
 with— ye ! " 
 
 "Bub, you boss this job. Goin' to let him 
 up in case he'll promise, good fashion, to be 
 quiet, you know, and mind his ps and qs like a 
 good, reasonable Yankee ? " 
 
 '•Reasonable!" said the butter-nut, mock- 
 ingly. 
 
By the Rapp ihannock. 239 
 
 "Be respcctf 111 ! " said Griffin. "We have 
 got the ujDper hands of ye. There, now ! I 
 have him, Bub! We'll take hitii to camp." 
 
 The man here twisted furiously, and once 
 more tried to get away. 
 
 " If I had any charge in my revolver you'd 
 ketch it," he said, threateningly. 
 
 "Got a revolver, have ye?" said GrifHn. 
 " So much the more prize for us. To camp 
 with him, Bub, to our lire ! " 
 
 The man here became quiet, when he learned 
 that camp meant the hollow. He was located 
 in the front of the fire when heavily prancing 
 troops were heard in the forest-road and then 
 in the forest itself. On the edge of the hollow 
 a man shouted, "What's the matter down 
 there? What regiment yon boj^s belong to? 
 Yon make a lot of noise." 
 
 " Tenth— ! " cried Griffin. " We have got a 
 prisoner down here." 
 
 "Or has he got you, and you want some 
 help?" asked the cavalryman. 
 
 "ISTo, we can take him along soon as day 
 breaks. Do you know where the Tenth — is ? " 
 asked Griffin. 
 
 "About two miles ahead." 
 
 "Say!" continued Griffin. "A squad of 
 cavalry went by here last evening making a 
 16 
 
240 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 fearful clatter. Chasin' somebody, we think. 
 Know about it ? " 
 
 " I was one of 'era. Yes, we were pressing 
 hard one of Lee's men. He was well mounted, 
 and got off somehow. Well, if you don't want 
 any help, I'll be off. Good-night ! "' 
 
 " Good-night ! Good- night ! " 
 
 This visitor Jiad been gone but a very few 
 minutes, when Griffin spoke up suddenly, at 
 the same time intently gazing into the face of 
 his prisoner : " Say ! " 
 
 " Well, say it, then. I'm here." 
 
 " Ain't your name Trickey ? " 
 
 "Trickey?" 
 
 " You look nat'ral as a piece of pie Thanks- 
 givin' time. I've seen you, and if you don't 
 lie you'll say you're Trickey, and that you were 
 with me in a yacht that got on to a rock, 
 and this young man was one of those rescuin' 
 you." 
 
 " So it is ! " ejaculated Forrest. " Why didn't 
 I see it before ! " 
 
 "How manj^ years ago?" asked the so-called 
 Trickey. 
 
 " p, this last spring ; very last spring. Come, 
 you are Trickey ! You can't pull the wool over 
 our eyes." 
 
 " So it is ! You know me ? " asked Forrest, 
 
Bj the Rappahannock. 241 
 
 looking into the face, black-ejed, swartlij, and 
 evil, that he had distrusted the first time he 
 saw it, 
 
 "Come!" cried Griffin, jocosely. "When 
 shall we three meet again ? " 
 
 " Never, if I have my say ! " shouted the pris- 
 oner, springing up and dashing away. But 
 Forrest was like a hound in chasing and over- 
 taking him. 
 
 " Let me go ! Won't 3^ou ? Take that," cried 
 the butter-nut, aiming a blow at Forrest with 
 the stock of his revolver. Forrest dodged the 
 blow, and held on till Griffin came up. 
 
 " Come ! " pleaded the prisoner. " I am 
 Trickey. I am a Confederate — or rebel, if you 
 want to call me so. I was the cavalryman they 
 chased so last night, only I slipped off my horse 
 and got away from them. Come! If you're 
 old-time friends, let me off." 
 
 Griffin felt the appeal. 
 
 "Would you, Bub?" he asked, turning to 
 Forrest. 
 
 "]^o," said the young Unionist, stoutly. 
 " He will go home to fight us again and kill 
 all he can, I know." 
 
 " That's so ! " said Griffin, promptly stiffen- 
 ing. " Duty before pleasure ! In the mornin' 
 we must take you to camp." 
 
242 Drummer' Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " You will be sorry for this," said Trickej to 
 Forrest. "I'll have my revenge on you, you 
 young scamp." 
 
 His captors made no reply to this, but firmly 
 continued to guard him. Daybreak sifted soon 
 its grayish light down through the sieve of the 
 forest foliage, and Griffin announced to the party 
 that they had better be marching. 
 
 "The Kappahannock is not far from here. 
 Bub," said Gritiin. 
 
 "It is! Where?" 
 
 " O, just down at the foot of the bank. I 
 don't know when you'll have a chance again to- 
 day, and if you want to go down to the river 
 and wash, there's your chance. Be spry ! I'll 
 mount guard. Be spry ! " 
 
 "Ay, ay!" 
 
 Forrest ran through the woods and quickly 
 saw the Rappahannock. He saw it with eager 
 interest, for it was his first sight of the re- 
 nowned river. Its dark, placid, glossy surface 
 was turned to the gray, cloudy sky as if it would 
 take an imprint from them, and the desire 
 seemed to be met, for a light-gray film of mist 
 covered the stream. Forrest, bowing down to 
 the water, was bathing his face and hands, say- 
 ing, "Guess this is the drummer-boy of the 
 Rappahannock ; yes, of the famous stream, the 
 
By the Rappahannock. 243 
 
 Rappaliannock. How would Nanny like that 
 for a name % " 
 
 Suddenly, back of him, he heard a rushing 
 noise, and the drummer-boy of the Rappahan- 
 nock was startled to see Trickey coming on 
 furiously, making tremendous leaps in the di- 
 rection of freedom. 
 
 "Stop there!" shouted Forrest, throwing 
 himself before Trickey. " Stop ! " 
 
 The eyes of the fugitive glared. He not only 
 had a threatening but a murderous look. 
 
 " If yoii try to stop me, I will kill you to-day, 
 or some other day," he shouted. 
 
 " ISTo, you won't ! " said Forrest, fearlessly 
 rushing up to him. 
 
 " I — I — will keep my mind. If you try to 
 stop me, I will kill you — some time." 
 
 "No, you won't," said Forrest, gripping him. 
 
 Griffin had taken away Triekey's arms, both 
 sword and pistol, and he could only oppose 
 the strength and nimbleness of his body to For- 
 rest's onset. It was his nimbleness that saved 
 him, for, making a swift detour, he left Forrest 
 at one side and tlien plunged straightwa}^ into 
 the Rappahannock. Forrest now stood a single 
 ■ moment in perplexity, and then splashed after 
 him. He thought the man might perliaps turn 
 when he reached deep water, and struggle 
 
244 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 ashore again, and Forrest was preparing to 
 tackle him. Trickey, though, kept on, an..l 
 when he reached water too deep for wading lie 
 struck out boldly and began to swim. 
 
 "O, bah!" muttered Forrest. "I can't 
 swim. Fool I was, not to learn !" 
 
 He shouted, " Come back ! " 
 
 "JS" — n — no — sir!" shrieked Trickey in de- 
 fiance, slightly turning his head, yet vigorously 
 swimming away. " Good-bye ! " 
 
 Somebody else on tlie river-bank had wit- 
 nessed all this, for while Trickey was pushing on 
 a voice rang out from the shore, " Come back or 
 I fire ! One — two — " 
 
 Trickey did not stop. The swim for liberty 
 was a swim for life. 
 
 " Three ! " shouted the new voice, and then 
 sharply rang out the echoes of a rifle-shot. 
 
 Would it hit him? Forrest wondered. His 
 sympathies now were with Trickey. He was 
 relieved when he saw the splash made by the 
 bullet as it struck the water a few feet beyond 
 Trickey. The fugitive saw this, and exultingly 
 gave what was called the " rebel yell ; " a sharp, 
 peculiar- cry, which, once heard by Northern 
 troops, was never forgotten. When it went up 
 from the charge on the battle-field, a wave of 
 wild, unearthly sound, rising, swelling, sweep- 
 
By the Rappahannock. 245 
 
 ing above the clasli of arms rolling defiantly 
 away, it startled every ear that caught it. 
 Trickey's yell started out of the recesses of their 
 night-retreat several Union soldiers, and they 
 came down to the river-bank hurriedly, asking 
 what it all meant. 
 
 " Prisoner got away from us," explained For- 
 rest, "and he is putting for the other side of 
 the river. I see him now and then, when the 
 mist rolls away." 
 
 " Sort of a shooting I don't like to do," said 
 one soldier. 
 
 " ]^or I," said another. 
 
 "I am willing to let him go," cried Forrest, 
 " but I tried hard enough to stop him. There 
 lie is! " 
 
 The morning mist curled away from the 
 river, and a dark round object showed itself on 
 the gray, glossy surface. It looked like the head 
 of a seal. 
 
 One of the soldiers lifted his gun, as if about to 
 aim at Trickey, but he quickly dropped it, mutter- 
 ing, " No, I can't lire ! Let the wretch go ! " 
 
 The mist dropped a? if in pity and veiled that 
 head which had been exposed for a moment. 
 "While the Union soldiers were waiting, talking 
 with Forrest, suddenly the rebel yell echoed 
 above the river. 
 
246 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " He's across ! " said one of the soldiers. 
 And there he goes." 
 
 Trickey's form was seen hurrying np the 
 river-bank and then lost behind a clump of 
 trees. 
 
 " He promised to kill me," said Forrest. 
 
 " O, well, that's easier said than done, and he 
 may live to change his mind," replied one of 
 the party. 
 
 They all turned and left the river behind 
 them, but Forrest often in thought saw tlie 
 Rappahannock as it appeared that morning — tlie 
 mist lying in loose, curling folds above the 
 water, and tlie head of Trickey appearing, then 
 disappearing, but steadily moving toward the 
 other shore in this swim for liberty and life. 
 
 But where was Griffin all this time ? At Urst 
 Forrest wondered where he was. Then " the 
 old man" was forgotten in the arrival of the 
 other soldiers and in the excitement of watch- 
 ing Trickey's efforts. But now Forrest said, 
 "Where — where is 'the old man?'" 
 
 He ran into the woods and, soon reaching the 
 liollow, looked down into it. Why, what was 
 the matter with Griffin ? He was stretched out 
 beside the fire, his head turned away from 
 Forrest. 
 
 "Say, Griffin! What are you doing down 
 
By the Rappahannock. 247 
 
 there ? " called out Forrest. " Trickej lias got 
 away ! Did you know it ? " 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 Forrest ran down to him, and then he saw 
 that Griffin's eyes were closed and across his 
 forehead was a mark of blood. Near Griffin 
 was a stout cudgel of wood. 
 
 " 0—0 ! " cried Forrest. " That fellow has 
 killed hiin ! " 
 
 He sprang out of the hollow, found one of 
 the soldiers who had been witli him on the 
 shore, and tlie two examined Griffin's hurt. 
 
 " I'll get some water ! " said Forrest. " We 
 can bathe his head." 
 
 He filled his canteen down at the river, and 
 bathed Griffin's brow. 
 
 " I will run out to the road and see if I can't 
 find an ambulance and have him taken along," 
 said the kind-hearted soldier. 
 
 He had hardly left the hollow when Griffin, 
 revived by the cold water, opened his eyes and 
 feebly asked, " Who's that. Bub ? 
 
 " O, that is all riglit ! I don't know his name. 
 But you keep still. Too bad you have been 
 hurt ! I am sorry I didn't get here sooner. It 
 is too bad ! " 
 
 " It is all right, Bub ; it is all right ! That 
 water feels o-ood." 
 
248 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 When the soldier returned, he reported that 
 he had stopped an ambulance going by. This 
 was a carriage for conveying sick or wounded 
 soldiers to the hospital. But Griffin did not 
 want to use it. 
 
 " I feel better," he insisted. " That Trickey 
 knocked me over, but I am feeling better. I 
 can walk. I don't want to ride." 
 
 The attempt to walk, though, was a failure. 
 He was finally lifted into an ambulance, his 
 drum thrown in after him, and off went the 
 cart. 
 
 '' Well," said the drummer-boy of the Eappa- 
 hannock, picking up his own instrument of music 
 and hurrying off. " I am left alone in the world. 
 Thought I had found a con-irade. I shall pick 
 up somebody, I suppose. Must find my regi- 
 ment somehow." 
 
 The road was now full again. All the varie- 
 ty making up the rear of an army was crowding 
 along. Batteries went rattling by. The horses 
 of cavalrymen clattered. Baggage wagons out 
 of place went rumbling along, trying in vain to 
 catch up with their brother-wagons. There 
 w^ere long, plodding columns of soldiers afoot, 
 laughing, sometimes singing, the most of them 
 silently, stolidly pressing on, wishing the war 
 was over. There were stragglers, like Forrest, 
 
By the Rappahannock. 249 
 
 Imrrjing to overtake their regiment, ana there 
 were anxious sutlers with their teams, fearful 
 lest the J miglit be left behind and be gobbled 
 up bj some prowling body of Confederate 
 cavalry. 
 
 The day liad not opened as Forrest had an- 
 ticipated. When he laj^ down by the side of 
 Griffin he expected to rise early and in con- 
 genial company start off to find his regiment. 
 Instead there had been that ugly episode in 
 which Trickey had been so prominent and dis- 
 agreeable an actor. It seemed like a dream, that 
 adventure by the Rappahannock, and Trickey's 
 bold swim across the river. Then came the 
 finding of Griffin so disabled, and his necessary 
 transportation in an ambulance. At last there 
 was a lonely drummer-boy straggling along a 
 Virginia road. There was the consciousness 
 that he had been jolted roughly out of plans 
 that seemed nicely planned and easy of execu- 
 tion. Every thing now seemed unstable and 
 uncertain. All this clatter of war might quickly 
 vanish and leave him alone in the road — Forrest 
 Hooper and his drum — going where ? 
 
 It was a relief to feel something firm and hard 
 in the breast-pocket of his blouse. That was 
 Nanny's Bible. Its contents, its promises, its 
 hopes were not evanescent. 
 
250 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 "What chapter was it Xannj marked for to- 
 day ? " he asked. 
 
 He turned to it, and, dropping down behind 
 some bnslies by the side of the road, found help 
 and comfort in a psahn. 
 
 "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills," said 
 the psalm. 
 
 He thouglit of the blue ridge that rose like 
 a wall of the heavenly city on the Western hori- 
 zon, and saw in the strong hills a type of the 
 things ever-sure and ever-lasting. All this sug- 
 gested something else. In another breast- 
 pocket he carried a hymn-book that Captain 
 
 Frye 
 
 o-ave nun. 
 
 He opened it, read one of its 
 
 hymns, and it winged his thoughts back to the 
 little church at home. He heard the pastor's 
 voice announcing a hymn, heard ^"anny's warble 
 in the choir as she sang the stanzas, and he arose 
 strengthened. 
 
Fredericksburg. 251 
 
 CHAPTER Xiy. 
 
 FREDERICKSBURG. 
 
 ONE December morning Forrest and " the old 
 man " stood by a camp-fire in Falmouth, oppo- 
 site Fredericksburg. Between the two places 
 flowed the Rappahannock, a thin, brittle ice cov- 
 ering its waters. The two -banks of the river 
 were picketed by the troops of the two armies, 
 for, while the Army of the Potomac occupied 
 Falmouth and its hills, Fredericksburg and the 
 heights in the rear were in the strong grip of 
 General Lee. Those two stalwart armies con- 
 fronted one another day after day, watching, with 
 keen sentinel eyes, all up and down the river 
 every movement that might be made, crouching 
 there like two big, surly dogs longing to fasten 
 their teeth into one another, and yet neither car- 
 ing to begin the attack. In the meantime the 
 shivering soldiers were killing time as best they 
 might, tlie Rappahannock compelHng them to 
 keep at a safe distance from one another. One 
 necessary occupation, a part of a soldier's mo- 
 notonous life, was wood-cutting. The weather 
 
252 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 was cold. Snow whitened the ground. The 
 soldiers were not warmly sheltered. A blazing, 
 crackling camp-fire was a necessity. These 
 flared all through the great encampment. The 
 men could be seen moving out to slaughter the 
 trees, and the sound of their axes rang loud and 
 sharp in the keen wintry air. 
 
 " Keeps a feller busy, j ust keej^in' these fires 
 up, Bub." remarked Griftin, spreading his great 
 red hands before the welcome heat. 
 
 " If every tree we felled were a Southern reg- 
 iment, we would soon have the war over, Cy." 
 
 "A regiment! If every tree stood for just 
 a man it would make a tremendous difference in 
 the war, Bub." 
 
 "When do you think we will have a chance at 
 the Johnnies ? " 
 
 '' Soon enough, I warrant ye ! There are 
 whispers round to-day that suthin' is up, and 
 suthin' more will be down to-morrow or next 
 day. It don't make ye feel easy to look at them 
 heights and think we've got to storm them." 
 
 "Do you think we can carry them?" 
 
 " Don't seem to me so," said Cy, shaking his 
 head. 
 
 " And they couldn't take our works here." 
 
 "I don't think so. But you look ahead, and 
 see what we have got to do if we attack them. 
 
Fredericksburg. 253 
 
 First, we have got to get across the river. The 
 bridge is gone — only the piers left — and we must 
 make a pontoon-bridge. All the time their 
 sharpshooters on the other side will be pickin' 
 us off. Well, when we have got over, we are 
 not there — for the Johnnies have their works 
 on those heiglits that we have got to carry. It's 
 goin' to take some bloody charges, and I don't 
 believe we can do it ! " 
 
 " Ilowover, we will give them a try." 
 
 Griffin nodded his head, and, looking away 
 from the fire, glanced at the young drummer. 
 He liked Forrest, his pluck and dash and gen- 
 erosity were so conspicuous. 
 
 "This war is makin' a man of him," reflected 
 the older drummer, admiringly contemplating 
 Forrest. 
 
 The war did make men of many of its sol- 
 diers. It found them boys, just from the school- 
 room. Its years passed over them, its hard dis- 
 cipline was an education to them, and they came 
 back men in age, and men in character. There 
 were those who never came back, who were 
 among the sad sheaves death harvested from 
 those dark, bloody fields. There were others who 
 survived, but the temptations of the war riddling 
 their character were more damaging than any 
 shot of the enemy. Forrest Hooper was standing 
 
254 Drn))imer-Bo)j of tJte Rappahannock. 
 
 well the test of those teinptatioiis. The influ- 
 ence of his earlj training, inclining him to take 
 sides for a good thing when fairly recognized 
 bj his conscience, exposed liini to the ridicnle 
 of his fellow-soldiers at times. lie could stand 
 alone, though, and generally liad somebody to 
 stand with him as a final result. But he tried 
 not to be a disagreeable martyr. While assert- 
 ing his convictions positively, and taking his 
 stand promptly, he tried to assert and stand 
 pleasantly at the time, and afterward not hold 
 himself aloof at his martyr-stake, but mingle 
 fraternally with those from whom he differed, 
 taking their banter good-naturedly, and showing 
 that he had some power of self-control. He had 
 not accom23lished this at once. Several letters 
 to Nanny stating liis trials because lie would 
 " take sides," and several letters from her giv- 
 ing good, helpful advice, had been necessary. 
 So little by little his boyhood was enlarging into 
 manhood. He was building out character on 
 this side and then on that side, and some time 
 Nanny was hoping and praying that he would 
 build up toward God, She had been worrying 
 'about him lately, when the papers told her how 
 the two armies of the North and the South were 
 situated: separated only by a river so narrow 
 that the pickets on the two banks could bandy 
 
Fredericksburg. 255 
 
 words vvitli one another, and jet to cross that 
 narrow river was harder than had been the pas- 
 sage of jnany wide seas. Crossed that river 
 would be, for one dark December night, the 
 lOtli, in the year 1862, a Northern brigade, ac- 
 companied by a train of boats on wheels, came 
 down to the banks of the Rappahannock. The 
 engineers went to work building bridges at vari- 
 ous points. The boats were pushed over the 
 thin ice that had formed. They were anchored 
 in the current. Then the timbers and planks 
 were laid upon that boat foundation. Before 
 the late, gray dawn of the winter morning, the 
 bridges were almost built. Did the other side 
 know nothing of this? A curtain of fog had 
 drawn its thick folds across the river. Did that 
 hide? 
 
 "Hark!" said Forrest to "the old man," 
 about live o'clock the morning of the lltli. 
 " Hear that ! " 
 
 They had been out hunting up news, and 
 were now in for a short nap. 
 
 " Hear it ! " replied Griffin, who was trying to 
 keep comfortable in his old blue coat and army 
 blankets, " Hear it ! Why don't you ask me if 
 I have any ears ? " 
 
 Both the drummers sprang to their feet, and 
 rushed to the door of their tent and looked out. 
 17 
 
256 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 On the otlier side of the river, on the lieights 
 of Fredericksburg, the Confederates liad fired 
 two signal guns. The heavy report went tlnui- 
 dering up and down the valley, shattered into 
 echoes that went on and on, growling, and rum- 
 bling, and moaning, then dying away after a 
 long, hard struggle for life. 
 
 " That means," said Griffin, " that they know 
 what we are up to, and are just telling their 
 folks what is coming." 
 
 " Do you suppose Trickey heard those guns ? " 
 a-^ked Forrest, straining his eyes in the direction 
 of misty Fredericksburg. 
 
 " Sartin, Bub ! Depend upon it he is up to 
 his sliare of mischief." 
 
 Forrest said nothing, but hoped that his share 
 of the fight and Trickey 's might not be mixed 
 up. 
 
 When the morning was advanced far enough 
 to permit any distinct sight, there came with the 
 seeing a heavy musket-firing up and down the 
 river. A bridge below the town was completed, 
 but opposite Fredericksburg there was uncom- 
 pleted work. The gray fog was still envelop- 
 iiig the river, and the Union soldiers could only 
 see the yellow blaze of the rifles discharged by 
 the Confederates on the other shore. There 
 was the unfinished bridge-work which Forrest 
 
HVedericksburg. 257 
 
 could see stretching off into the fog. The Union 
 batteries were pitcliing their iron compliments 
 over to the Southern sharpshooters, but that did 
 not rout them, for they were firing from build- 
 ings that sheltered them. The engineers reached 
 a point with their bridge-work only eighty or 
 ninety feet from the coveted bank, but to bridge 
 that gap was an impossibility. Soldiers would 
 start out with a plank and liasten along the 
 bridge, only to drop before -that sharp, pitiless, 
 murderous fire of Mississippi riflemen. Then 
 General Burnside ordered General Hunt, the 
 chief of artillery, to fire on the place sheltering 
 this volcano of death. 
 
 " Bring all your guns to bear upon the city, 
 and batter it down ! " 
 
 One hundred and seventy-nine guns roared 
 out an echo to these words. Nine thousand 
 solid shot and shells went booming over the 
 river, honeycombing Fredericksburg, but the 
 deadly riflemen were not dislodged. Those who 
 went out to complete the bridge were swept 
 away before their fire, and that ninety feet of 
 \vater stretching between the unfinished bridge 
 and the shore M\as as effectual an obstacle to 
 crossing as if it had been a wall ninety feet 
 high. Could the .Rappahannock never be 
 crossed? A brigade, including in its numbers 
 
253 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahamwck. 
 
 tlie Seventh Michigan, vohmteered to attempt 
 to go over in boats and drive out those riflemen. 
 Tiie plan was to dare a passage in boats. Some 
 of the Seventh Michigan were detailed for this 
 heroic effort. 
 
 They spring into the waiting boats. As if going 
 to a feast, they push out into tliat stream w^hich 
 to some of them would prove a river of death. 
 
 " Ping ! ping ! '• come the rifle-balls. Men 
 are dropping. Still the boats are urged forward 
 into the very thick of this gauntlet of death. 
 Shallows are reached. The boats are grounded. 
 Then the brave fellows leap out. 
 
 "Ping! ping!" still come the sharp, deadly 
 b:ills. 
 
 The Michigan boys struggle through this iron 
 shower. They wade to the river-bank. They 
 gallantly charge up the slope. They penetrate 
 the hiding-places of the enemy. Kecklessly, 
 stubbornly, victoriously, they drive ahead. As 
 with a broom, they clean out the corners in 
 which for many a poor Union soldier Death had 
 been hiding, a rifle in his hand. There is no 
 "opposition now that hinders the completion of 
 the bridge. The pontoons are swung into posi- 
 tion. The planks are laid. The two banks of 
 the river are joined, and over the bridge march 
 the exulting troops of the Union. The struggle 
 
Fredericksburg. 259 
 
 had been a long one, and tlie snn of the short 
 December day was now going down through 
 the cold winter skj. In the streets of Fredericks- 
 burg the struggle was prolonged, but the enemy 
 steadily fell back, leaving our troops in possession 
 of the town. On the hills, the cannon thun- 
 dered away. The evening camp-fires flashed 
 every where. In Fredericksburg, the buildings 
 that had been fired smoked and flamed toward 
 the December sky like huge torches. All this 
 was only a threshold to a. bloodier, more awful 
 day. When the morning of the 12th broke a 
 fog shrouded the river. A third bridge of pon- 
 toons the engineers stretched from bank to bank. 
 The Army of the Potomac was busily crossing, 
 but between the men of the North and the men 
 of the South hung low that long, thick curtain 
 of fog. By noon it vt\as lifted. The two great 
 war-giants were now in sight of one another, and 
 began to roar out their mutual defiance. Onr 
 line of batteries was five miles in length. Think 
 of it ; engines of death, sweeping with their 
 fatal storm that long distance! Forrest and 
 Griffin went over the river with troops who were 
 a part of General Franklin's command. They 
 walked with the other drummers at the head 
 of their regiment, that tramped confidently, 
 proudly, steadily on, but more than one heart 
 
260 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 trembled, for they well knew that this might be 
 the last march — toward death. 
 
 Beyond the bridge crossing the river below 
 the town was a wide, open plain. The troo])S 
 debouched upon it as if rallying for a grand 
 review. Forrest stepped off proudly, his dram 
 slung at his side. Griffin walked next to him, 
 his drum thrown over his shoulders. Tlie troops 
 were hopeful. Their trusted guns rested on the 
 shoulder, ready to be slung round and brought 
 into service any moment. As some general 
 was passed, sitting on horseback, they might 
 swing off their caps and give him hearty cheers. 
 At one point, where the line of march curved, 
 Forrest could look back and see the pontoon- 
 bridge covered with troops steadily tramping 
 forward to battle. In every direction troops 
 were moving, on both sides of the river. The 
 two giants were getting ready for the awful 
 death grapple. The 12th of December went by. 
 Just before night the cannon roared on both 
 sides. The pickets, too, here and there, were 
 shooting away. On this angry, contentious 
 scene the night shut down, keeping apart those 
 who were anxious to begin the charge of battle. 
 
 Forrest and Griffin had drummed side by side, 
 and now prepared to lie down side by side. But 
 where, and on wliat ? Like others, out in the 
 
Fredericksburg. 261 
 
 plain ; and between them and tlie ground were 
 only tliick blankets. Camp-iires were blazing in 
 every direction, and little groups of soldiers 
 around these were cooking their coffee, 
 
 " We will make sure of our coffee, Bub," said 
 Griffin, " and till our canteens, too. Never go- 
 in' to say ' die ' till I have to, and I mean to 
 take some coffee fust, anyway." 
 
 " And I'll find the softest piece of ground I 
 can for our bed," said Forrest. 
 
 The fire was a large one, and on every side 
 were blue-coats stooping down to cook their 
 coffee. A blind man could have not only felt 
 his nearness to a camp-fire by the heat, but he 
 C(nild have smelt it, so strong was the odor of 
 the coffee. 
 
 " There," said Griffin when the hot, odorous 
 draught w^as ready, " you take that. Bub ! I ex- 
 pect, with one canteen of that inside of you, you 
 would drive General Lee and the whole of the 
 rebel army." 
 
 " Ha-ha ! I shall wait until morning, and 
 when you feel your soft bed you will want to 
 wait also." 
 
 " Soft bed ! I am ready for it, and you too, 
 I guess." 
 
 But when Griffin and Forrest occupied that 
 couch of Mother Nature's frozen bosom and their 
 
262 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 blankets, either the bed, the strong coffee, or 
 soniething else, kept them wide awake. Was 
 the "something else" fear of the coming 
 battle % 
 
 " Well," said Forrest, " I can't stand this. I 
 am going to get up and walk round. Good-bj, 
 old man ! " 
 
 " Wait till to-morrow before you say good-bj^, 
 Bub," said Griffin, grimly. 
 
 " What ? " 
 
 "All right! all right! I don't care to ex- 
 plain." 
 
 Forrest walked off. Would he and his 
 brother-drummer actually be parted to-morrow? 
 Which one would be taken ? Which one would 
 be left ? Who would be at the next camp-fire ? 
 Who would build that ? Of all these men about 
 him, these brave, hardy fellows, wrapped in 
 their bhmkets and lying on the ground, or 
 crouching over the camp-fires, who to-morrow 
 night would be alive to bivouac out on the 
 plain? Who would be — ? lie did not like to 
 complete that sentence with the word " dead," 
 and he did not say it even to himself. He 
 looked off upon the seemingly numberless fires, 
 those of the Union army on his side of the 
 Rappahannock and those of the Union troops 
 over on the Falmouth heights. They all looked 
 
Fredericksburg. 263 
 
 pleasant and friendly. Then he turned and 
 gazed npon the twinkling flashes along the 
 Fredericksburg heights and near their base. 
 Those had an angry glare. Eacli was a menace. 
 
 " Queer ! Same sort of camp-fire," reflected 
 Forrest, " but they look ugly. Wonder which 
 is Trickey's ! It must be that red, angry one 
 over at the left. Guess Til turn in." 
 
 lie nigh tumbled over one nniffled prostrate 
 form on his way back to Griflin. 
 
 " O, I beg pardon ! " said Forrest. 
 
 " You'd better ! Tliought you were that cav. 
 airy on horseback, and stickin' tlieir hoofs into 
 ms," growled the soldier on the ground. 
 
 " Sorry ! Good-night." 
 
 " Good-night ! We'll part friends. May not 
 have a chance to say so to-morrow night." 
 
 " O, I hope so ! " 
 
 As he moved away, though, Forrest wondered 
 if that soldier, to-morrow night, would be 
 stretched out before a camp-fire, and whether a 
 drummer-boy looking like Forrest Hooper 
 would be in a condition to plant his reckless 
 " hoofs " in the side of the above sleeper. 
 
 " Ugh ! " said Forrest. " N"ot a pleasant sub- 
 ject. I'll think about something pleasanter." 
 
 A mail had come to the army that day, and 
 O how eagerl}' it was clutched by the brave fel- 
 
264 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 lows going into battle ! There was a letter 
 whose style of superscription always made For- 
 rest's heart flutter when he saw it : " Mr. For- 
 rest Hooper, Tenth Regiment, corps, 
 
 Army of the Potomac, Virginia." 
 
 " That is a letter from Nanny," and he had 
 read it certainly twenty times. When he 
 stretched out once more by the side of Griffin 
 Nanny's letter was in his hand, a clutched and 
 crumpled letter. There in the dark, though, it 
 seemed to lie smooth and open before him, and 
 he could read every word of it. It was Nanny's 
 handwriting lighted up by a tliousand camp-fires 
 all brightly burning. This one sentence he saw 
 most clearly : " Don't forget, dear Forrest, that 
 I pray for you morning and night." 
 
 Somehow, he could not help seeing this, and 
 in most luminous letters. " I pray for you morn- 
 ing and night." He wondered if she were pray- 
 ing for him that night. He needed pi-aj^er. 
 He felt the need of it, for some reason. A man 
 facing death not as a j)ossibility on the morrow, 
 but as something quite probable, will be likely, 
 if of a reflective nature, to do some serious 
 thinking the night before the battle. 
 
 " Wish I did pray every day and — and felt 
 it," Forrest said, there under the sky, stretched 
 out upon his back. " When did I pray last ? " 
 
Fredericksburg. 265 
 
 At home lie prayed regularly, tliougli it was 
 only a daily form. In tlie army, while he had 
 kept his promise about the reading of the Bible, 
 the habit of prayer had been broken up. lie 
 had not prayed more than once or twice since 
 that day after the adventure with Trickey, when 
 he had looked into his Bible. But to-night, for 
 some reason, he had a strong desire to pray, and 
 out of tlie very depths of his soul to cry unto 
 God. Why he should feel so he could hardly 
 understand. The battle on the morrow proba- 
 bly had provoked that interest, but then at 
 Antietam, where he had scented the smoke of 
 battle, he had not this craving after something 
 that was not his, something that only God could 
 give, and something that God would give — 
 would he not % "Was this what people called 
 "getting religion?" Only it seemed as if re- 
 ligion were getting him. If so, did it mean 
 that God wanted him ? God certainly had told 
 some people, in a very plain, unmistakable way, 
 when he wanted them. Did not God tell Sam- 
 uel that he wanted him ? Did not God stop St. 
 Paul and speak to him? Was God stopping 
 Forrest Hooper ? 
 
 " Wish I knew ! " whispered the drummer- 
 boy. 
 
 Somehow, this subject continued to press upon 
 
266 Drnmmer-Boii of the Rappahannock. 
 
 the thoughts of Forrest, lying out there in that 
 great winter bivouac by the Rappaliannock. 
 
 Then he thought of the times at home when 
 the minister liad tokl him he ought to be decided 
 and come out openly as a Christian. Had not 
 Nanny told him he ought to take a decided stand 
 for Christ ? 
 
 "Why, if it is that," thought Forrest, still 
 thinking under his blanket, " why, 1 am not 
 afraid to take sides/' 
 
 Ah, conscience told him he had already taken 
 sides; that he was on the side against Christ, that 
 he was not particular about attending any relig- 
 ious service in the army, that he had told Griffin 
 he was not '* pious," that he onlj- prayed now 
 and then. 
 
 " Now, God wants you to take a stand before 
 all these men ; before Griffin," said the prompt 
 and faithful monitor within him. 
 
 " Does he ? I am not afraid to stand up for 
 Him," said Forrest, turning over as if about to 
 rise and stand up before the prostrate Griffin, 
 before all those camp-fires, and the forms 
 stretched out or huddled about them, before, 
 too, the evil-looking fires on the heights back of 
 Fredericksburg. 
 
 " Now if God wants you, and you want God, 
 why don't you go to him? Tell him how you 
 
Fredericksburg. 267 
 
 feel, and let there be a meeting betweeD jour 
 soul and God," suggested the voice within. 
 
 "Don't suppose it would be any harm, and — 
 and I am not afraid," said Forrest, sitting up 
 and looking about him, as if replying to one of 
 the men, and a supposed evil objector, at a near 
 camp-fire. 
 
 " Do it, then, and let it be for good. Don't 
 take it back ; don't take it back," urged the 
 counselor within. 
 
 " For always ? " asked Forrest. He had not 
 thought of it as a course so final. " Seems too 
 sudden." 
 
 But sudden things are sometimes the best. 
 Abrupt choices may be the wisest. And if God 
 be the party on the other side, and the party on 
 this side be sincere, in your breast, in my breast, 
 is there any risk of failure run ? 
 
 "Stand up, Forrest, stand up. Forrest Hoop- 
 er ! " urged a voice. " Take a stand ! " 
 
 He rose, for he felt that he was really sum- 
 moned, challenged, invited, called forth by all 
 these witnessing camp-fires to take a stand for 
 God, and take it there on that wintry plain by 
 the Rappahannock, in the night, and amid that 
 army gathered round its fires. Under that chilly, 
 misty sky, it seemed to Forrest Hooper as if he 
 told every body — both armies, the world — that he 
 
268 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 was on God's side, and, God helping liim, lie 
 would continue to stand there. Tlien he dropped 
 upon his knees, and out of the profound need of 
 his soul he looked up to God, and silently cried 
 to him. He did not say much about the battle, 
 for he felt that if God took him, acknowledged 
 him to-night as his servant, was he not safe 
 enough ? 
 
 " Why, yes ! " answered Forrest ; and as he lay 
 down again he felt that he had somehow gone 
 under a shelter. What if the battle left him 
 lying out there to-morrow night, in that very same 
 place, but lying dead and forsaken ! That was 
 only the body ; but the soul would be with God. 
 
 As he continued to think, he heard a voice 
 near him. 
 
 "Bub!" 
 
 It was Griffin. He spoke softly. 
 
 "I — I — have been makin' up my mind to 
 speak to you. Say, got any — any room in there 
 forme?'' 
 
 " O, talk away ! Room where ? " 
 
 " O — I saw you, and 'twas a good idea — any 
 room for me in that prayer \ " 
 
 Griffin had seen him, then, kneeling. 
 
 "Why,yes,Cy!" 
 
 " Just put in a word for me be — cause — cause 
 — to-morrow's goin' to be an awful day." 
 
Fredericksburg. 
 
 269 
 
 There was a space of silence, while a kneeling 
 form in the uncertain light of a bivouac-fire 
 turned his face to the chilling sky that bent 
 above the Kappahannock. Somebody else^ 
 under his blanket, also folded his hands. 
 
270 Drummer- JBoy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 THAT AWFUL DAT. 
 
 FREDERICKSBURG was a— failure. We 
 all know that the next day an ominous fog 
 clouded the river. It was like an evil presence 
 tliat stretched its wings above the Union army, 
 and shed not a benediction, but a curse. When 
 it folded its wings and stole away, there was the 
 coming battle-ticld in sight, and there were the 
 two waiting armies. 
 
 Boom — ni-m ! 
 
 Boom — m-m ! 
 
 Two signal -guns went off on the Confed- 
 erate side, crashing, thundering, echoing down 
 upon the battle-plain. Their language was, 
 " Ready ! Ready ! " and there was a bold re- 
 sponse by the Union army. There were attacks 
 made on the right and tlie left of the Union 
 army. Marye's Hill, on the right, will never 
 be forgotten by the men that stormed it and 
 those that held it. Southern cannon were 
 planted there. Southern bayonets bristled there, 
 and, above all. Southern men were behind the 
 
Tliat Awful Day. 271 
 
 cannon smd under the bayonets, determined that 
 the assault should not be successful. They had 
 tlie advantage It was a sad mistake to throw 
 our columns against that hard, linn, adamantine 
 mountain of death that changed into a volcano, 
 and hurled out its tiro and angry missiles. It 
 was soon after noon that fifteen tliousand of our 
 men moved in a lieroic, couipact charge upon 
 tliatslunibcring volcano — fit'reen thousand brave, 
 earnest, daring men. Th(jre was a horrible clash 
 of combatants, a murderous uproar of arms, and 
 tlien the columns broke, collapsed, fell away, and 
 retreated. To charge, to waver, to break, to 
 come back — those who did come back — did not 
 take fi^fteen minutes. It was useless to launch 
 another v^eak thunderbolt at that merciless vol- 
 cano, but it was launched and — shattered. The 
 sun of a winter day was setting when one,more 
 effort was made. Our soldiers went huzzahing. 
 To meet the huzzahs, though, were grim rows 
 of cannon belching forth tlieir wrath. There 
 were thousands of muskets flashing. Rifles were 
 sending out tlieir ringing balls. The Union sol- 
 diers drove the enemy up the hill, but could not 
 force them over it, and then they fell back. 
 The battle-field was strewn with the dead and the 
 dying, even as the autumn grain ridges the har- 
 vest-field after the passage of the reaper. On 
 18 
 
272 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 the left, where General Franklin commanded, 
 General Meade's division went forward, and 
 made a bold, hard strike. It broke the enemy's 
 lines. If Meade had been snpported promptly 
 — if a large force at once could have been pushed 
 into that gap — it would liave torn such a rent in 
 General Lee's army that it would have been 
 divided and defeated. Through a niisnnder- 
 ttandiug that full support was not given, and 
 Genei-al Meade was obliged to fall back. His 
 effort had failed, but his pluck and push re- 
 mained. Perhaps his defeat at Fredericksburg 
 helped to make him the hero at Gettysburg, 
 wdiere the relative position of the two armies 
 w^as reversed — General Meade occupying a hill, 
 and General Lee vainly trying to dislodge him. 
 
 That day by the Rappahannock, though, Fred- 
 ericksburg was a Gettysburg-glory for the South- 
 ern army. And our drummer-boy, where w^as 
 he in the aw^f ul fight ? Forrest Hooper was 
 moving out to meet his first battle. He was a 
 brave boy. At home he had always been the 
 boy to lead off in every adventure, and the last 
 to come back from it. This, though, was some- 
 thing different. A charge had been ordered, 
 
 "Keep up your grit. Bub!" shouted GriflSn, 
 as they strode off together. " Make good music 
 as you can." 
 
That Awful Day. 213 
 
 "Ay, ay, old man!" replied Forrest, look- 
 ing up into the kindly face of the big drummer. 
 In a battle-charge the drummers were in the 
 lear, and followed up an assault beating their 
 drums. 
 
 " Your heart agoin' ? " shouted Griffin, as the 
 roar of battle began. " Beat your drum lively, 
 Bub, lively ! " 
 
 It seemed to Forrest for a few moments as if 
 the beating drum were inside his breast, so ex- 
 citedly was his heart thumping. He thought of 
 Nanny ; thought of the old home ; wondered if 
 he would come out of this smoke and roar alive ; 
 out of this terrible clash ; out of this dreadful 
 scene of men dripping with blood, dropping, dy- 
 ing, and then— He did not think any more ! He 
 was swept away by the excitement of the hour, 
 and simply went on. Bullets fell about him. 
 Shells exploded before him. Shot went flying 
 over his head. Still he w^ent on. One moment 
 he was holding up his drum uninjured ; the 
 next a piece of shell went through it, making a 
 rao-o-ed rent, while Forrest put his unoccupied 
 hand up to his head, thinking the drummer was 
 also hurt. 
 
 "All right!" he said. "There, off wnth 
 you ! " 
 
 As he spoke he tossed his mutilated drum 
 
274 Drmnmer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 awaj, and, seizing a musket that somebody liad 
 dropped, rushed on. He seemed to be swept 
 forward by an insane excitement. Suddenly, 
 just before him, up rose — Trickey ! 
 
 Yes, it was Trickey ! There was no doubt 
 about it ! That terrible Trickey ! How lie 
 loomed up I How big, bulky, gigantic he 
 seemed ! And such a ferocious grin as he 
 wore ! He had seen Forrest ! He looked like 
 a demon in the flesh. Forrest almost stopped, 
 startled, confused by this sudden apparition, and 
 Trickey had not only spied Forrest, but, leering 
 fiendishly, was bearing down upon him, charg- 
 ing upon him with bayonet fixed. In that one 
 supremely sensitive, excitable moment, every 
 tiling about Trickey seemed burnt into Forrest's 
 soul. He saw Trickey's gun, and the hard, firm, 
 bony hands gripping it. He saw his slouched 
 Confederate hat with its broken rim, and counted 
 two holes in the rim. He saw Trickey's blanket 
 rolled up and bound over his left shoulder and 
 down across his breast. He saw the worn belt 
 around the waist, and the old canteen stained 
 and dented. Forrest saw other men with 
 slouched hats, blankets, canteens, guns, bayonets 
 — a wild, insane rush of men, a melee, a mob, an 
 avalanche, a huge centipede, wriggling, squirm- 
 ing, writhing toward him through smoke and 
 
That Awful Day. 275 
 
 amid sliot and shell ; but the awful front, its 
 seeming leader, its one dominant, murderous will, 
 was that Trickey. He was the crater of the 
 volcano, belching fire. That was the supreme 
 impression in this fiendish hour, " Trickey ! " 
 Another moment Forrest saw Trickey lev- 
 eling his musket at him. Then he saw some- 
 body else rushing up, wearing the old blue 
 coat that the Union soldier had made so famil- 
 iar and glorious ! All the details of his uniform 
 and person came out inco sudden, sharp, strange 
 prominence. The cap — no, he was without a 
 cap, but the gun, the blanket, the knapsack, the 
 canteen, and above all the face, had a stei-eo- 
 scopic distinctness. Somewhere in the fight 
 the cap had been dropped, and across his fore- 
 head was a scar. O, how plain was that scar ! 
 It was an unmistakable sign of the soldier's 
 identity, even if the kindly, trustworthy, noble 
 face had not been there. 
 
 " The tramp ! the tramp ! " thought Forrest, 
 exultingly. 
 
 Yes, the tramp of those days of spring by 
 the sea-shore at liome, and yet he was something 
 far more. He rose up so commanding, glorious, 
 even as the impulse to save always glorifies the 
 savior, just as the impulse to destroy degrades 
 and brutalizes and makes devilish the destroyer. 
 
276 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Back there ! " he shouted commandin^lj to 
 Trickej. 
 
 With the butt of his musket he struck out 
 toward Trickey — but Forrest saw no more. 
 Somewhere, someliow, Trickej had wounded 
 him. He fell, and oblivion darkened his soul. 
 He lay senseless among the dead and wounded. 
 
 At dusk a big, stalwart drummer came that 
 way. 
 
 " Poor little Bub ! " he murmured, looking 
 down. " Where are you ? Somewhere, you 
 poor little cha^D ! ISTot covered up yet, I 
 know." 
 
 He continued his search. 
 
 " O, here you are ! here you are ! Poor little 
 Bnb ! I thought I should find you. Warm and — 
 and — breathing ! " he ejaculated, placing his face 
 close down by Forrest's, and laying his hand on 
 Forrest's heart. " Poor little Bub ! The folks 
 at home will feel bad, and that girl with the 
 pretty voice, I expect, too. Poor little Bub ! 
 Kow let me lift you — there — there ! Poor little 
 Bub ! What did you ever come into this hell 
 for ? " 
 
 As if he were carrying a baby, the big drum- 
 mer strode off, in his arms bearing Forrest, 
 whose head drooped upon Griffin's shoulder 
 like the flower of a stem that has wilted. He 
 
That Aioful Day. 211 
 
 had gone but a few steps wlien lie heard a 
 moan. 
 
 " Poor feller ! " said Griffin, looking down at 
 a face that turned up a pitying appeal, white, 
 blood-stained, and across its forehead the uneven 
 line of a scar, the sign and seal of a noble hero. 
 " Wish I could lug you too ; but I'll coma again 
 if I can." 
 
 It was dark, though, when Griffin had found 
 a shelter for the charge already in his arms, and 
 then he was summoned by an officer to another 
 duty. 
 
 " That poor feller I couldn't carry ! " he often 
 said to himself. 
 
 And this " poor feller," with the scar in his 
 forehead, lay out there on the battle-field 
 tln-ough the dark, chilling winter-night that fol- 
 lowed. ISTow and then a moan escaped him, the 
 involuntary sigh of one who a second time was 
 offering a sacrifice on tlie altar of liberty. 
 
278 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 THE BATTLE-NEWS AT HOME. 
 
 ^^IIATTLE down in Yirginny!" cried a 
 
 IJ news boj in a street at tlie Port. " Great 
 lossof life-fe!'' 
 
 " My ! " exclaimed a hack-driver on his box, 
 as his carriage rattled away to a wharf. " Say ! " 
 lie shouted to several sailoi-s on the deck of a 
 coaster at the wluirf. " Any of you fellers got 
 relatives down in the array ? If so, tremenjus 
 battle down in Yirginny ! " 
 
 "Say!" shouted the sailors two minutes 
 later to a boy in a boat off in the river, " tell 
 the folks that there's been a big battle down in 
 Yirginny ! " 
 
 The boy^ took the news to Gilbert French's 
 store. So the news went from man to man, boy 
 to boy, woman to woman ; some pallid face listen- 
 ing to what another reported carelessly. The 
 news went as fire leaps across the prairie, from 
 grass-blade to grass-blade. 
 
 "What did you say?" asked Nanny, going 
 to a window uj^on one of whose cold panes the 
 
Tlie Battle-News at Houie. 279 
 
 nmlatto George was making liis Hat nose still 
 flatter. 
 
 " Been a battle down in Yirginnj ! " shouted 
 this herald on the outside of the house. 
 
 " O. come in, do, and tell me ! " said ]^anny, 
 and then she felt the blood leaving her face 
 and hands. 
 
 " I dunno 'bout it only what some fish'men 
 sez jes' now comin' down de ribber, an' a ped- 
 dler tole 'em, an' a man from Gilbert French's 
 store tule him, an' a boy tole him — '* and, yes, 
 from mouth to mouth had the news been 
 shouted. 
 
 " A battle in Virginia ? O dear ! where was 
 ic ? " asked Nanny, impatiently. " I don't want 
 to know who told, but where was it? " 
 
 " Dunno. All dey sez 'twas in ole Vii-ginny." 
 
 " Here comes the skipper, and he has got a 
 paper. O, Uncle Jerry," she said, addressing 
 Skipper Bowser, who was now stepping into 
 the house, " has there been a battle down in 
 Yirginia ? Is it the Army of the Potomac? 
 Was Forrest hurt or — " 
 
 " Jest wait ! " said Skipper Bowser, in that 
 calm but hard and unnatural tone which is any 
 thing but assuring to one in suspense. " We 
 will see what the paper says." 
 
 " Killed right an' left. O, a heap, dey say," 
 
280 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 interposed George. He received a wink from 
 Jerry, and then tlie skipper adjusted his spec- 
 tacles. 
 
 " O ! O ! let me see ! '■ cried Nanny, eagerly. 
 
 Annt Huklah here came into the room. 
 
 " Just think ! A battle in Virginia, Aunt 
 Huldah, and every body killed, I am afraid," 
 said Nanny. 
 
 " Hold oil ! '' said the skipper. " Not so bad 
 as that ! " 
 
 '' Got flags at half mas' up at de Port, dey 
 say." 
 
 " Somebody known there who has died ? 
 Wait ! Ah, here it is ! " 
 
 The skipper's face grew very serious as he 
 read, while Aunt Huldah, Nanny, and George 
 looked over his shoulders. He read on in his 
 sharp, nasal, but very kind and humane tones. 
 
 " ' Great slaughter,' " firmly read the skipper, 
 his glistening spectacles bent on the paper. 
 
 "Toobadl" 
 
 " O dear ! " 
 
 To these ejaculations of the women, George 
 added, " Drefiul ! " 
 
 " Sakes ! " moaned a new voice, that of Mrs. 
 Bowser. 
 
 '"But our noble soldiers died well,'" contin- 
 ued the skipper. 
 
The Battle-N'ews at Home. 281 
 
 Nannv pressed down the pain in her heart. 
 
 '' Bress de Lor' ! " said another voice, Eliza's. 
 " Died well ! " 
 
 " And where was it ? " asked Nanny. 
 
 " Fredericksburg ! " replied the skipper, try- 
 ing to make his tone cheerful. 
 
 It was a memorable scene in the old kitchen. 
 The skipper reading (he was proud of his sup- 
 posed oratory), George rolling Jiis eyes round 
 and groaning, while Nanny, Aunt Huldah, 
 Miranda Jane, and Eliza huddled around the 
 reader, before, behind, on either side, and fast- 
 ened their eyes on the face trying to be firm 
 and unconcerned as he read, " 'Weather cold the 
 night after the battle and bad for — the — the — ' " 
 
 Here the skipper took off his spectacles, and 
 in a trenmlous tone proceeded to say, " Them 
 glasses never — did — suit — me." 
 
 Wiping a coating of dew from the faithful 
 lenses, he adjusted them again, and once more 
 proceeded : " * The wounded and the dead — are 
 estimated at — thousands on both sides. The 
 rebels fought well and held their own, but it 
 was too hard a place to be taken. The attack 
 was a mistake. Our brave boys that were 
 wounded — ' " 
 
 "What regiments?— and the killed?" asked 
 Aunt Huldah faintly. 
 
282 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 "It was a Michigan regiment that went over 
 first," said the skipper, avoiding the question. 
 
 " Li-zay, don' you wish I'd ben dar ? " 
 
 " You ? Don' you stick yerself in dar 'among 
 de white folk ! " was Eliza's comforting re- 
 joinder. 
 
 "I don't suppose there's anything about 
 Forrest's regiment?" queried Nanny in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "Don't say any thing about him," said the 
 skipper, who had found out, though, that For- 
 rest's regiment was badly " cut up," and he now 
 said, " We must hope he's all right — hem ! ' ' 
 
 Here lie laid down the j)aper, took oif his 
 spectacles and left the house. If any body had 
 followed him, they would have seen him in the 
 the shed wiping a freshet out of his eyes. The 
 women now took the paper to devour it, but 
 one by one they yielded it up and forsook the 
 kitchen. Eliza was hardly aware that she was 
 left by Mrs. Bowser alone with the paper, so 
 earnest was she in picking out the big capitals 
 among the letters, preferring to interpret every 
 D as death and every G as grave. 
 
 " Ugh ! All gwine ? De Lor' hab mercy ! 
 Reckon I'se go, too ! " 
 
 The paper was dropped on the floor, the win- 
 ter sunshine retreating from it and leaving it all 
 
The Battle- News at Home. 283 
 
 alone, as if its nature were of the horrible. It 
 laj near a door under which, through a crack, 
 moaned the wind, as if it had an idea that 
 the paper had brought bad news, and there must 
 be mourning. Up stairs, in tlieir rooms, Nanny 
 and Aunt Huldah were crying, for they had 
 seen all that the pitying skipper had left out. 
 ]^anny was down on lier knees, praying and 
 pleading for Forrest's life if endangered, and 
 asking for strength if the worst must be ex- 
 pected. She wondered if those in heaven knew 
 how great her wretchedness was: if her father 
 knew and thought of her, and if that mother, so 
 long departed that Nanny could see only dimly 
 her face turned toward her through the mist of 
 many years, felt for her and pitied her. And 
 the pain of the horrid suspense in this home re- 
 mote from the war suggested what was transpir- 
 ing in many homes. As the tidings of the 
 uulncky battle went over the North, it was like 
 the flight of tiie destroying angel in Egypt, that 
 left behind, in its proud homes and its lowly 
 ones, the moans of the dying and the anguish of 
 the living. Nanny tliought of what her father 
 used to say, when his voice would ring out like an 
 old prophet's : " Nanny, we have as a people 
 measured out suffering to the black race. We 
 have heaped the measure up. There is an old 
 
284 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 verse tliat says, ' For with what judgment ye 
 judge, ye shall be judged : and with what meas- 
 ure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.' 
 Nanny, God's measuring-day will come." 
 
 Nanny wondered if God's measuring-day had 
 come. 
 
 As more definite news came from the battle 
 it was known that Fori-est had been among the 
 wounded, "severely," the first account said. 
 Then it seemed to Nanny as if the waves of 
 trouble, already running so uneasily, were grow- 
 ing into great billows of the sea. She formed 
 her plans speedily, and the morning after the 
 news slie came over to Skipper Bowser's boat- 
 shop. 
 
 " Uncle Jerry," said Nanny, arresting the 
 hammer that was coming down upon the keel 
 of a boat, " I am thinking whether it wouldn't 
 be best for me to go to the war." 
 
 He started back, holding up his hands in 
 amazement. 
 
 " What ! carry a gun, child ? " 
 
 "O, no; but help take care of the sick and 
 wounded." 
 
 " Nuss, you mean ? " 
 
 "I suppose it would amount to that. Last 
 week I had a letter from old Mrs. De Witt — 
 who was taken off from that yacht, you know — 
 
The Battle-News at Home. 285 
 
 and she said she belonged to an association for 
 sending women to help in hospital work. I 
 know where she lives — not far from New 
 York—" 
 
 " And you want mj 'pinion ? or do you want 
 me to ratify yourn ? Some difference." 
 
 "Well, what do you think of it? 
 
 " But Aunt Huldy ? " 
 
 " She has already said she thinks she will go 
 back to New York, as she can earn her living 
 there and she can't here. It would be lonely 
 without her." 
 
 " I see. Well, I could have an ej^e out to 
 things over to your home. But how about 
 money matters ? " 
 
 " Gilbert French — " As slie spoke, Nanny's 
 countenance fell. ',' He has been round again, 
 I know, and showed me a paper, witnessed by 
 Daniel English, he says — that tramp round here, 
 you know, last spring — saying that father gave 
 him the big meadow ; and I don't believe he 
 did." 
 
 " Daniel English ? that the tramp ? and he wit- 
 nessed it % Wall, I'll write on to that place in 
 New York and find out. You may rely on me 
 to look after that, Nanny. Don't you stay at 
 liome for that. It's a shame to be nagged round 
 60, but I'll fix him. I've got a lawyer on his 
 
286 Drummer-Boy of the B.'tppahannock. 
 
 track. Don't ye worry. Sajs that Daniel En- 
 glish — if that is tlie tramp's name — signed the 
 paper wlien on here? It's a shame! I'll fix 
 him. Leave him to me." 
 
 But J^annj's thoughts just at this moment 
 were on another subject. 
 
 " You see, Uncle Jerjy, I am well and strong, 
 and instead of staying here at home, just I, 
 3'ou know, when Aunt lliiklah's gone, why 
 could not I be away, also, doing some good? I 
 think I could help some way. Mrs. De Witt 
 would help me to get into the right place.'' 
 
 All this time the skipper, holding his hammer 
 in his hand, was looking at tlie keel of the boat 
 he was making. 
 
 Nanny continued: "And I have prayed over 
 it, Uncle Jerry."' 
 
 "What answer do you git?" 
 
 " Seems to me God says, ' Go.' " 
 
 "Does he? That the feelin' in your heart? 
 Wall, you are your own woman, and if He says 
 that way, I don't see but that settles it." 
 
 Here, as if emphasizing his opinion, the skip- 
 per rapped the keel with his hammer smartly. 
 
 " Then you're goin' to the war, Nanny ? " 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Jerry." 
 
 Here Nanny looked up and saw in a min-or 
 huno- on the wall the face of Gilbert French! 
 
The Battle-News at Home. 287 
 
 " Wlij ! " the skipper heard her exclaim in 
 affright. " Wiiat is that ? Is it Gilbert ? " 
 
 The skipper had purposely placed the glass in 
 that position. In summer the sea-shore was 
 thronged with visitors, and all sorts of peddlers 
 came with them. These were sure to call upon 
 the skipper. This looking-glass reflected the 
 door by which the shop was entered. The 
 skipper when he heard the sound of approaching 
 feet could lift his eyes to this glass and, without 
 turning away from his work, see who had en- 
 tered. A peddler with toilet-soap in his bag, or 
 the agent for a new sewing-machine, would be 
 surprised to hear the skipper bawl out, " Don't 
 want nothin'!" when he had not even turned 
 his head to look at the caller. 
 
 "Some folks are sharp, but that feller is 
 quick-sighted enough to see through the t'other 
 side of his head," was the comment of one of 
 the sewing-machine fraternity. 
 
 Had N"anny now seen Gilbert French's face 
 turned toward her, and just disappearing out of 
 the door? Why didn't she hear Gilbert's step, 
 if he had come to the door? Was it not a per- 
 son she saw ? Was it only a phantom ? only a 
 projection outward of the hateful image that 
 was so often in her thoughts? 
 
 " Gilbert French ? " said the skipper, hurrying 
 19 
 
288 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahaiinock. 
 
 to the door and looking out. " Don't see him ! 
 He went 'm^izin' quick if 'twas he. Guess jou 
 were mistaken." 
 
 " Saw him in that glass, Uncle Jerry." 
 She now turned to the looking-glass, and 
 looked into it to see if Gilbert French's face 
 might not rise out of the depths of the mirror 
 and show itself again upon the surface. ]N"oth- 
 ing was there, only an ugly black spider tliat 
 had lowered itself from its web and was crawl- 
 ing over the glass. 
 
 JS'anny herself went to the door and looked 
 out. 
 
 " Queer ! Don't see any body ! Wonder if 
 he came down to see the skipper and heard me 
 say I was going to tlie war 'i Don't want him 
 to know. I'll look round this corner." 
 
 She saw no one and went back to the shop. 
 The glass was clear, the ugly black spider hav- 
 ing crawled away. Somebody besides the skip- 
 per though, was in the shop, 
 
 " I tole jer dese many days I ought to go to 
 de war," said a voice. 
 
 " O," thought ]S"anny, " it is George." 
 " Yeh, I tole yer I ought fur to go, skipper." 
 " Have you made up your mind ? " 
 "Hem— no! Mammy ain' jes' feelin' dat 
 way, but I hope to bring her roun'." 
 
TJie Battle- News at Home. 289 
 
 " Somebody else wants to go, Nanny, you 
 see," said Skipper Bowser, 
 
 " I see. Well, somebody must go," replied 
 Nanny. " If I had the money I believe I would 
 start for Mrs. De Witt's to-morrow. I must 
 wait for the money I hope to get from the 
 vegetables left in the cellar. I thought I would 
 sell thera, for they won't be wanted if Aunt 
 Huldah goes away. There are about twenty 
 bushels of potatoes, and ten barrels of apples, 
 and—" 
 
 " Nannj', child, I wisli I had tlie money ! You 
 should have it in a moment. We shall miss you 
 terribly round this way — " 
 
 Here the skipper turned and said he must put 
 a stick of wood in the stove. This gave him a 
 chance to wipe his eyes. When lie came back 
 lie said : '' IIow often I've wished the tramp's 
 money would turn up — what was lost here, I 
 mean — and tliat never yet has turned up ! Then 
 you could go off tomorrow with that. I've 
 hunted and — "' 
 
 " Fur dat tramp's money, yer mean ? " asked 
 George. 
 
 " Yes. You know we hunted for his address ; 
 we found that." 
 
 '' Wouldn' I jos' like to fin' dat money ! " 
 
 "A reward to the finder!" said Nannv: 
 
290 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 '' but you would never get it, for it's of no use 
 looking." 
 
 " Lemine see ! " exclaimed George, slowly, 
 seriously, solemnly, bowing down under the 
 bjnch which had so many " cubby-holes," as he 
 had said. It delighted liis mystery-loving nature 
 to poke into dark holes, and see if any might 
 have a tenant of a bank-bill. These were all 
 empty residences. 
 
 " Where d'you say dat money was % " he asked 
 the skipper. 
 
 " It was on this bench, and the wind blew it 
 out of the winder. There, I have said that a 
 thousand times, I s'pose, if I have once ! Wind 
 blew it, took it across that window-sill out- 
 doors, and I have hunted all through this shop 
 as if this were ' out-doors,' and then I have gone 
 under the winder, and away from the winder, 
 an 1 I don't know where." 
 
 '' Dat hole in de sill," George was saying 
 to himself ; " wonder if it went down dar ! " 
 
 He now bobbed under the bench and looked at 
 the base of the wall directly under the window- 
 lie saw a laro:e crack in the sheathing. 
 
 sil 
 
 Now, a crack to George was the attractive en- 
 trance-way to a mystery of undefinable size. It 
 was like the portal of an Egyptian temple, be- 
 hind which lay such a quantity of shadows 
 
The Battle- News at Home. 291 
 
 sucli dim depths and silent spaces, such an awe. 
 Who could say what might be behind this 
 crack ? 
 
 " Jes' lemme take yer hammer, skipper, fur 
 to see what dar ain in here." 
 
 " O, nothin' ! There ain't nothin' in there ! 
 However, there's your hammer." 
 
 '* Mouglit see ! grunted George, down in his 
 contracted quarters. 
 
 He stuck a claw of the hammer into the 
 crack, ripped off a strip of sheathing, and thrust 
 in a liand. 
 
 " Feel any thing ? " inquired the skipper. 
 
 " Jes' hole on a moment," replied George, his 
 eyes enlarging with the delightful consciousness 
 that he was prying into the heart of a mystery. 
 He twisted his hand about, his eyes squirming 
 also, running in those inquisitive lingers farther 
 and farther. 
 
 " Feel any thing— dust, cobwebs, rats' nest ? " 
 asked the skipper, sarcastically. 
 
 "Blieb I do a-suthin' ! " replied George 
 quietly, and then pulled out a handful of— 
 what ? 
 
 He lifted it up, and there was a roll of bank- 
 bills ! 
 
 "Hoo-rah!" shouted the skipper, dancing 
 round like a boy. 
 
292 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 "O— why! Did you ever!" exclaimed the 
 surprised and delighted Nanny, clapping her 
 hands. 
 
 " ISTebber 'spise a hole agin ! May hab a heap 
 in it, skipper," advised George. " Dar fur 
 ye!" 
 
 " Now you can go to the war. O dear ! " mur- 
 mured the skipper. 
 
 But Nanny's first thought was not upon this 
 subject. 
 
 " Forrest is vindicated, Uncle Jerry ! " said 
 Nanny. 
 
 " Yes, and the tramp, too ! " cried the 
 skipper. 
 
 That night Nanny's sleep was less disturbed 
 than it had been the night before. She was 
 going into that world of which Forrest was a 
 part. Perhaps she could find him. Perhaps 
 she could see him. She was happy as she slept. 
 
 Slie was happy when she awoke the next 
 morning. She felt that her heavenly Father 
 was approving of her course. Because he ap- 
 proved he was opening a path for her feet. She 
 noticed the light in her room. "Was the sun up ? 
 It must be up, and yet was not visible. Nanny 
 looked out of the window. The sun was be- 
 hind a low cloud of purple that sailed on the 
 surface of a sea of golden sky. Along the edge 
 
The Battle- News at Home. 293 
 
 of this cloud was a streak of silver tftat betokened 
 the sun's presence. This streak became a stripe, 
 broadening and sharpening. From silver it 
 changed to gold, flaming brighter and brig])ter, 
 an uneven band of fire, as if it were the surface 
 of an uneasy, boiling caldron. Siiddeiil}^, as if 
 this caldron were boiling over, one lustrous 
 drop, more golden, more fiery than its surround- 
 ings, came to the surface and threatened to roll 
 over and fall down into the placid ocean shining 
 beneath. It did not fall, but grew into a little 
 ball of intensest fire. It enlarged. And still it 
 did not fall ; but it rose, swelling, rising — swell- 
 ing, rising — a semi-sphere, a globe of dazzling 
 light ! 
 
 "There's the sun ! " said Nanny. 
 
 And the sea, belted with a zone of gold, seemed 
 to say, " There is the sun ! " An oak near the 
 liouse, hung with brown leaves, seemed to say 
 also, " There is the sun ! " for it brightened as 
 with a suddenly kindled fire among its branches. 
 An upper window in Skipper Bowser's house 
 acknowledged the coming of the day, for it 
 showed an eye-ball of fire, while the long vane on 
 the church-steeple, seen from an opposite win- 
 dow, became a lance of fire. And down in the 
 barn a ray of light shot through a crack, and fell 
 on a watchful old rooster, turning his comb to a 
 
294 Drummer- Boy of the MappahaanocJc. 
 
 crown, and in a jubilant voice lie crowed, " This 
 is the sun ! Rejoice ! " 
 
 ' And into Nanny's heart streamed a light, and 
 she could say, " I am glad it is day ! This is 
 my heavenly Father's smile ! " 
 
 That morning, Nanny and Aunt Huldah both 
 were busy with preparations for their departure, 
 though Aunt Huldah did not expect to get 
 away for three days. Nanny went the very 
 next day. Skipper Bowser carried her in the 
 Bowser chariot to the railroad station. When 
 he had said good-bye in the car, and was com- 
 ing out, trying to rub his eyes dry, he raw a tall 
 form stealthily edging his wa}- into another car. 
 
 " Why, if that don't look like Gilbert French ! " 
 said the skipper. " He a-goin' off ? Wonder 
 where he will turn up ! " 
 
 We all wonder. 
 
I7i an Old House. 295 
 
 SUCI 
 
 CHAPTEE XVII. 
 
 IN AN OLD HOUSE. 
 
 UCH a dear old house ! " said Nanny, rap- 
 ously. 
 
 It was a dear old house indeed, one whose very 
 aspect said, " I am old." The bricks said, " I am 
 old," for did not tradition declare tliat the bricks 
 liad been brought from Holland ? And the large 
 windows with their little panes, each one said, " I 
 am old." It was a stout, bulky, two-story house, 
 capped by a gable roof ; which thus made room 
 for that delightful institution, a garret— where 
 one heard the low crooning of the wind when a 
 rain was coming, and then heard the musical 
 clatter on the roof betokening' its arrival. Mrs. 
 De Witt told Nanny that one gable-end carried, 
 in her younger days, a weather-cock, "and it 
 must have been imported, like the bricks," said 
 Mrs. De Witt, " for no bird like that ever crowed 
 this side of the waters." 
 
 An ancient ivy covered an end of the house, 
 hiding every window but one. Through the 
 day it was a kind of lusterless eye, dim with 
 
296 Drmnmer-Boy of the Rappaliannock. 
 
 many years, but at twilight, when it caught up 
 the sunshine, it sparkled again, and youth seemed 
 to come back. The sparkle soon died out. It 
 was not youth, but a short-liv^ed dream of it. In 
 the roof was a dormer-window. Nann}^ loved to 
 go up there, and look far away on a strip of sil- 
 ver sea. She did not know what a pretty pict- 
 ure her fresh youth made among those ancient 
 surroundings. 
 
 Ah ! amid the interesting things aloft we have 
 forgotten a relic below — the brass knocker on the 
 door. It was a ponderous thing, shaped like a 
 dog's head. Callers would rap with the knocker, 
 and its echoes were sharp and fierce, like a vigi- 
 lant mastiff barking away. As one entered the 
 hall, though he came in hurried and bustling, the 
 roar of the world's strife sounding in his ears, it 
 began to die away at once. A voice seemed to 
 say : " This is an old house. People here never 
 hurry. Take breath and rest." It was a charm- 
 ing old hall. Just in front was the staircase, 
 not a modern kind, ever in a hurry to get to 
 the next story, and going up by the shortest, 
 sharpest flight possible ; but it made a very leis- 
 urely ascent, taking all the time and space it 
 wished. Two good square turns did this stair- 
 case make, and so afforded two comfortable halt- 
 ing-places, as if it instinctively knew that all 
 
In an Old House. 297 
 
 its climbers would be very Dutch and very fat. 
 On the first landing was a clock that Diedrich 
 Yan Somebody made in Holland. "Don't hurry," 
 said the clock. " This time-piece gives you bet- 
 ter measure for a minute than most clocks." 
 
 Most of the rooms in the house had been 
 modernized, but one apartment remained just as 
 the first carpenters left it one tired niglit when 
 their work was over. Waking np from a hun- 
 dred and fifty years' sleep, and then coming into 
 this room, they could have told it at once. 
 Overhead were big beams projecting from the 
 ceiling, whose very ponderousness had appar- 
 ently forced them down out of their hiding- 
 place, like very modest, shrinking people whose 
 great weiglit of character yet brings them for- 
 ward into notice. The room was lighted by two 
 windows filled with little panes of glass. Tiie 
 frames of the windows were set deep into the 
 ancient walls. Each window-seat was broad and 
 ample, capable of holding two lovers, and there 
 was room for a third person if the jealousy of lov- 
 ers would permit additional society. Every thing 
 — walls, chimney, furniture — betrayed an ancient 
 derivation. Nanny was delighted to take tea 
 there the night she arrived at this home of Mrs. 
 De Witt. 
 
 " What a picture ! " she said, as she entered. 
 
298 Drummer- Boy of the Happahannock. 
 
 A fire had been kindled in the fireplace, an im- 
 mense month of a tnnnel coining from some- 
 where out in tlie night, and opening into the 
 room. This funnel mouth, so big and so black, 
 but jolly that night, was at least seven feet long 
 and half as deep. It was bordered with tiles ^f 
 Delft earthen-ware. The scenes were scriptural. 
 There was tFie cock that crew when Peter denied 
 his Lord; there was blind Bartimeus receiving 
 his sight ; and there w\as Lazarus lying at Dives's 
 door. The cock, though, the blind man, the 
 beggar, and all the other characters were blue as 
 the ocean over which these tiles had been car- 
 ried. Around a heavy, dark, well - polished 
 table in the center of the room stood ponderous 
 chairs, claw-footed, as if lions and bears were 
 crouching about the table, but considerately had 
 disguised themselves in those wooden frames, 
 showing nothing but their claws. The table 
 was decked with pieces of quaint old Dutch 
 ware, all blue like the tiles. On JSTanny's plate 
 was a summer scene, men and women in blue 
 raking hay that was blue ; and blue horses were 
 waiting to carry it off in blue carts to blue barns. 
 The tea-pot was the most cherished piece of 
 table-ware. It had belonged to a far-away ances- 
 tor of Mrs. De Witt, a Van Cortlandt, and he 
 had given it to a Yan Der Heyden, and he had 
 
la an Old House. 299 
 
 passed it to a Yan Djck ; and, after running 
 successfully a large gauntlet of Vans, escaping 
 the many perils of liousekeejjing, it had come 
 unharmed into the hands of its present ownei'. 
 Its sides and cover were decorated with dainty 
 tea-leaves that seemed to exhale a quickening 
 fragrance ere a single spray from far Cathay had 
 been set to steeping within. Most appetizing 
 were the suppers spread in that room. Most 
 of the rooms, as has been already said, had 
 been modernized, and yet often something 
 could be found whose language was, " I am 
 very old, don't you see ? " — some old spinning- 
 wheel, an ark-like oaken chest, or a chair with 
 fantastic back. 
 
 This old house had been the liome of many 
 very good people. Some one said it Avas no 
 wonder that the lady De Witt was a Christian. 
 
 " Why," said the old family-servant, Margaret, 
 " there's the house to make her good. I believe 
 in houses." 
 
 We all of us have reason to believe in houses. 
 We give a character to our homes, and so do our 
 liomes give a character to us. The house that is 
 an old one, witli which go the associations of the 
 varied deeds of its former tenants, becomes a 
 mold to shape the lives of all within its walls. 
 Mrs. De Witt herself was conscious of the influ- 
 
300 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 ence of her liome, and her plastic nature re- 
 sponded to it. 
 
 " There are all the De Witts back of her, 
 a-shinin' line of 'em," said Margaret. "• Slie has 
 to be good. She can't help herself." 
 
 The literal statement, that one in such fami- 
 lies must be good, cannot be safely pressed. 
 Yerj sour fruit will sometimes hang on the 
 branches within which run such seemingly 
 sweet currents. And yet the statement hides a 
 truth. Behind Mrs. De Witt stood that long 
 line of ancestors, those saintly fathers with the 
 white clerical wrappings about their necks ; 
 those mothers, too, with the devotedness of Isra- 
 el's holy women in their faces. Was slie not in 
 the direct current of those many praj^ers issuing 
 from such lives ? Was she not in the line also 
 of those forces of patience, self-denial, purity, 
 and reverence that had been accumulated in their 
 character ? There are hereditary laws of trans- 
 mission certainly here at work ; never putting 
 us beyond the need of the renewal by tlie Holy 
 Ghost, and yet, in a life that is a part of such 
 an ancestral line, nature's need is not so great as 
 in a life whose antecedents have been different. 
 
 Mrs. De Witt had one of those fair round 
 faces imported from Holland in the seventeenth 
 century — faces that brought with them a golden- 
 
In an Old House. 301 
 
 brown hair and bright bhie eyes. The golden- 
 brown hair was now only a fold of silver above 
 and abont her face, the fair anreole that old age 
 puts around the head of its saints. The blue 
 eyes, that had lost their first amethyst sparkle, 
 had gained in an expression of peace, like lakes 
 that exchange the noon's sharp luster for the soft, 
 restful shades of twilight. One beautiful feature 
 of the old lady's character was her trust in her 
 heavenly Father. It went with her as an atmos- 
 phere, not so readily asserted in her words as 
 steadily felt in her life. 
 
 " I don't know how to describe it," said Mar- 
 garet to a house-servant in the neighborhood, 
 " but, the folks that come to our house, I can 
 'most always tell what kind of people they have 
 been associatin' with. And when the old lady 
 comes down in the morning looking so serene, I 
 know wdiom she has been with ; and it is that 
 kind of a face and way about her I notice so 
 often. I sometimes feel like saying, 'Whom 
 have you been with?' but I check myself, for I 
 know who it is," and here Margaret looked rev- 
 erently up. 
 
 There did surround that aged mother much 
 of a Presence with whom she had communion. 
 It gave her life that aspect of quiet, steadfast 
 trust in Another and a Higher, attracting all 
 
302 Drummer-Boy of the Rrqypahannock. 
 
 who knew her. It was a very unobtrusive qnal- 
 ity, escaping from her quietly as the aroma of a 
 flower; but there it was, and it made her life 
 fragrant. She took a deep interest in every 
 thing that concerned- IS'anny. She cordially 
 welcomed the young patriot, listened to her 
 plans, used her influence in an association with 
 which she was connected, and which was a kind 
 of agency for forwarding helpers and help to 
 the soldiers in the hospitals, and in two days 
 Nanny expested to be in Washington, and to be 
 assigned to some kind of hospital duty. Of 
 these two days the greater portion had passed 
 away. They were exciting but agreeable days. 
 JN^anny's going to the great war had not only 
 made an appeal to her sense of datj'', laying 
 liold of a patriotic desire to serve her country, but 
 she appreciated her father's interest in the colored 
 people, and wished to see justice done them, and 
 by going to the war she now seemed to take up 
 his cause, and help push that. Even to her own 
 consciousness, and Nanny was a young woman 
 never classed as sentimental and fanciful, this 
 active interest in the war had wrapped Nanny 
 Frye in an atmosphere of the unusual and 
 heroic. Had not Belle De Witt, whom we 
 recall as Mrs. De Witt's granddaughter, several 
 times called her, " My heroine ? " Sober-minded 
 
Ill an Old JI Hise. 303 
 
 Nannj — in lier own regard — was standing on a 
 far higher pedestal than that she had occupied 
 at lionie. And was it not higher ? 
 
 Tlien it was gratifying to that pride of which 
 Kanny ]iad her share when Lidies of the patri- 
 otic association to which Mrs. De Witt belonged 
 said, admiringly, 
 
 "This is the young lady going to the war. 
 How much she is giving np ! It shames all our 
 yonng women." 
 
 Nanny's garments were turning to the purple 
 and fine linen in which the King's daughters 
 were arrayed. Then — had not Belle De Witt 
 intrusted her with a commission ? 
 
 " Nanny," said that young lady, a delicate 
 blush tinting her fair cheeks, " you may at the 
 war, in some hospital, see Arthur De Witt. He 
 is grandma's grandson, but not any relative of 
 mine. She was married twice, and each time to 
 a gentleman of the name of De Witt, and this 
 Arthur is only connected wMth me through that 
 second marriage, being a grandchild of that 
 second husband, but not grandma's — and he — 
 the husband — no — Arthnr —he — Arthur — " 
 
 The pink in Belle's fair cheeks had now deep- 
 ened to crimson. 
 
 " See here, young lady," exclaimed Nanny, 
 taking her companion's hands, and looking 
 20 
 
^ r 
 
 304 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 straight into the deep, beautiful, now shrinking 
 eyes, "I know it all without your telling me. 
 Arthur De Witt, the Southern soldier, of whom 
 I have heard your grandmother speak, is not 
 your relative, but may be something nearer! 
 And he is at the war, too ! O dear I " 
 
 Belle blushed again, stammered, and then she 
 covered her face with her hands, and began to 
 cry. 
 
 " Poor girl ! " said Nanny, who could pity her 
 sincerely. 
 
 She took her, as if a child, to her arms, and 
 enfolded her in her sympathy, and she herself 
 cried when she thought of Forrest. 
 
 " Now I — I can't go into the hospitals — the 
 doctor says I am too weak — but you go just like 
 a heroine ! And if you should see Arthur any- 
 where, you — " 
 
 "Poor girl! Yes, dear, I will tell him all 
 about you, and that will help him more than 
 medicine, if he gets into our hospitals, and I 
 will take the best care of him besides, Now 
 don't you worry ! " 
 
 " 1 feel easier," said Belle, wiping away her 
 tears. 
 
 This little scene, and this commission given 
 her by Belle, lifted Nanny's proposed work to 
 a still greater altitude of importance. Then she 
 
In an Old House. 305 
 
 was going to that work from tlie old De Witt 
 mansion : a house so historic, so rich in its 
 furnishments, it seemed a fit threshold from 
 which to step off upon that exalted, heroic mis- 
 sion, widening into untold usefulness that un- 
 selfish life to whicli ISTannj had dedicated her- 
 self. If Nanny had not felt these things slie 
 would have been an unusual girl. 
 
 But, suddenly, whose ungainly presence should 
 interfere with this atmos})here of fine sentiment 
 and drive it away — who with abrupt hands should 
 remove the purple and fine linen — whose nasal 
 tones should call her away from this philan- 
 thropic but heroic mission before her, but the 
 presence, hands, and voice of Skipper Bowser! 
 He did not do it personally, but by a letter and 
 telegram arriving before dark one night. But 
 if it had been Skipper Bowser himself, com- 
 ing with a hundred interfering hands, and a 
 voice roaring like a hundred thunder-bursts, his 
 work could not have been more effectual. Bat 
 Nanny was prompt in her reply. 
 
 Mrs. De Witt heard a voice singing, and the 
 echoes wandered over the house as if a bird, 
 flying in at one of the deep old windows were 
 going from room to room. " Who is that sing- 
 ing, Belle ? " she asked her granddaughter. 
 
 "ItisNanny Frye." 
 
306 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 "Is it?" Nanny's voice bad wings and it 
 could also give wings to the soul that listened, 
 and it wafted one heavenward, " That takes 
 me right up," said Mrs. De Witt. 
 
 " Nanny is a sweet singer," exclaimed Belle, 
 who was constantly rehearsing Nanny's good 
 qualities. 
 
 And now the bird's notes went out of a 
 window tliat chanced to be open. The song 
 floated away, and, mingling witli all sweet, fading 
 sounds in the dying day, died with them. 
 
 "That was a blessed trust song, Nanny, I 
 fancy, from the words I caught. Can't you 
 repeat them ? " asked Mrs. De Witt, w^hen her 
 guest entered her room. 
 
 With lier musical voice Nanny gave a recita- 
 tion that was equal to her singing : 
 
 "The child leans on Us parent's breast, 
 Leaves there its cares, and is at rest; 
 The bird sits singing by his nest 
 
 And tells aloud 
 His trust in God, and so is blessed 
 
 'Neath every cloud. 
 
 " He has no store, he sows no seed, 
 Yet slugs aloud and doth not heed ; 
 By flowing stream or grassy mead 
 
 He sings to shame 
 Men who forget, in fear of need, 
 
 A Father's name. 
 
In an Old House. 307 
 
 •' The heart that trusts forever sings, 
 And feels as light as it had wings ; 
 A well of peace within it springs; 
 
 Come good or ill, 
 Whate'er to-day, to-morrow brings, 
 
 It is His will!" 
 
 " I sing that when in perplexity. The words 
 quiet me." Nanny had been in perplexity. 
 She was singing her way out of the perplexity. 
 
 " I hope you are not worrying about any 
 thing ? " said Mrs. DeWitt. 
 
 " It was only the old question — what one had 
 better do." 
 
 " Better do ? Why, is not your course plain ? 
 You go to Washington in the morning. That's 
 decided enough." 
 
 l!^anny thrust her hand into a dress-pocket 
 and brought out a letter and a telegram. Tliese 
 were the two messages from Skipper Bowser. 
 The letter spoke of Aunt Hnldah as indisposed. 
 The telegram said : " Have heard from Forrest. 
 Wounded, but doing well. Aunt Huldah sud- 
 denly very sick, and wishes to see you." 
 
 ISTanny explained : " Aunt Hnldah is a rela- 
 tive living with me who expected, when I left 
 home, to come to New York to seek work here. 
 But suddenly sickness has developed, it seems, 
 and she wishes to see me. I feel that I must 
 turn about and go home." 
 
308 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " You go home ? " said Mrs. De Witt in a tone 
 of surprise. " Why ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Nannj, decidedly. "It— is a 
 disappointment, and I hated to tell you, who 
 have given yourself so much trouble for me. 
 But I think I had better." 
 
 '• ]^o\v, you tell me again how it is — all about 
 it. You go through it once more." 
 
 ISTanny patiently, thoroughly, explained all, 
 and Mrs. De Witt said : 
 
 " 1 see, dear. It is a case of duty. I will 
 make it easy for you. Of course, I was much 
 interested in your going to the war and — " 
 
 " O, yes, you have been very kind to me." 
 
 "And — I was going to tell you about my 
 grandson. He is somewhere, or was, on the 
 rebel side, and I was going to describe him, and 
 may be you would have seen him. O, he's a hand- 
 some boy, if I sa}^ it ! Bc^lle is his cousin, onl}^ by 
 marriage, though, and looks like him, and — ." She 
 said nothing more for a minute, and then added 
 abstractedly, "but nothing may come from it." 
 
 " I understand." 
 
 " I like you because you do understand and 
 catch at things," said the old lady, positively, 
 little knowing what a commission Belle had 
 given Nann3\ " If you had gone you might — 
 there is no telling — in some way have met Ar- 
 
In an Old House. 309 
 
 tlmr, but now— well, let it go ! We must see to 
 it that now you get home. Of course, it is a 
 disappointment." 
 
 Nanny nodded her head, and then added : 
 
 " But if it was a duty to go, I can see now 
 that it is a duty not to go." 
 
 " And you can leave it there. And Forrest, 
 too, is better, or doing well. That is a com- 
 fort." 
 
 A deeper well from which to draw waters of 
 comfort than Mrs. De Witt imagined. 
 
 Nanny now tried, with all the strength of her 
 nature, to take her thoughts off from the war 
 as hei- place of work, and turn them homeward. 
 
 " Nanny is very reasonable," her father had 
 once said. " When she sees that she must do a 
 thing she makes up her mind to it, and acts ac- 
 cordingly." She had her share of human nat- 
 ure that is a positive quantity in us all, but 
 when Nanny began her journey home she tried 
 to think of the Port as the one great, impor- 
 tant destination for her in this world. When 
 at the Port she saw from a car-platform Skip- 
 per Bowser, in response to a telegram, faith- 
 fully waiting for her, that he miglit carry her 
 home in his old red sleigh, she felt that this con- 
 veyance was the one for her — rather tlian any of 
 the railroad trains noisily carrying supplies of 
 
310 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 nurses on to the dolorons hospitals at Washing- 
 ton or down in Virginia. When the skipper 
 had left her at the door of the old home, and 
 she had hurried up into Aunt Huldah's room 
 and saw the old familiar chamber that had been 
 her father's, its plain, brown-painted floor half- 
 concealed by home-made carpets, the old-fash- 
 ioned curtains draped about the windows, the 
 antique bedstead in the corner bearing up a 
 patient worn and tliin, a pale, sad face breaking 
 out into such a welcoming, contented smile, fhe 
 husky voice saying, " O, thank God ! " then 
 Nanny, as she put her arms about poor Aunt 
 Huldali's neck, felt that just here was her mis- 
 sion. 
 
 " Poor auntie ! " she murmured. " I'll take 
 care of you." 
 
 Something else happened. It was after a 
 supper in the plain old kitchen, with skipper 
 and Mirandy Jane, who had brouglit their 
 own " fixin's," as they said, and "jest wanted 
 to use her cups and sassers anl plates." This 
 supper made Nanny exclaim, " O, there is noth- 
 ing like home ! " 
 
 When they had gone, and a " liired woman " 
 taking care of Aunt Huldali had turned into 
 her nest — when the house was still, and only 
 the cheerful voice of the old clock patiently call- 
 
1)1 an Old House. 311 
 
 ing off the moments during its watcli in the 
 entry could be heard — then Aunt Huldah told 
 Nanny something that " was on her mind," 
 something "important," something "if told 
 'twould make her feel easy." ISTow Nanny felt 
 still more forcibly that her mission was here, for, 
 though it did not bear upon the welfare of the 
 army in general, it did pertain to the interests 
 of one dear soldier in the grand old Army of 
 the Potomac. 
 
 •^' Now, I am easy ! " said Aunt Huldah. 
 
 " Are you ? I am glad ! " said Nurse Frye, 
 for Nanny felt that she ha-l gone into hospital- 
 service at home. " After all, I will be a nurse," 
 thought Nanny ; " what Forrest often used to say 
 I was cut out for." And that evening, winding 
 lier handkerchief about her liead like the folds 
 of a cap, she looked into the glass to see what 
 she thought of " Nurse Frye." If Forrest had 
 been there he would have said that she made a 
 very good-looking nurse. Her mission, through 
 Aunt Huldah's revelation, had a very special 
 connection with a sink soldier also. 
 
 "I will w^rite off to the army to-morrow," 
 said Nanny. " Now I'll make every thing fast 
 about the house." 
 
 When she came back she stepped to Aunt 
 Huldali's bed and held the lamp above her. 
 
312 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Win', if she isn't asleep ! So soon ! " 
 thought Xannj, turning away. " Now I'll have 
 mj prayers." 
 
 She thought of Forrest when she prayed, and 
 commended him to God. She had been told by 
 Forrest, in a letter written even before he had 
 begun to pray sincerely for himself, that he liked 
 to think of her prayers for him. In a copy of a 
 paper distributed among the soldiers he read one 
 day that beautiful verse about Sandalphon, the 
 angel of prayer : 
 
 " He gatliers the prayers as he stands, 
 Aud they chaoge into flow^ers in his hands, 
 
 Into garlands of purple and red ; 
 And through the great city immortal 
 
 Is wafted the fragrance they shed." 
 
 And Forrest thought he saw Nanny's prayers 
 blossoming into such a purple and red glory. 
 
The Hospital by the Rappahannock. 313 
 
 CHAPTER XYIIL 
 
 THE HOSPITAL BY THP] RAPPAHANNOCK. 
 
 " TiniAT do jou say, Cy ? The tramp ? You 
 
 VV don't say so ! Where is he % " asked For- 
 rest, looking np from his bed made on tlie floor 
 of a private house — a bed that was companion 
 to three others in that room. 
 
 " In the next room," replied Griffin, who had 
 been detailed to act as nurse. " Had a fearful 
 night after he got wounded, but they brought 
 him o£E at last, and brought him over the river. 
 He did a good job for you, Bub. A man who 
 got w^ounded in that part of the field saw it 
 all. Trickey gave you a bayonet-wound and he 
 would have ended it by shooting you, but this 
 feller, Dan Englisli, bore down on Trickey, 
 shoved his gun aside, and finished him ; but he 
 got what Trickey meant for you. It was a ter- 
 rible wound, they say — jest missing you — " 
 
 " Poor feller ! Too bad ! Seems to me every 
 man ought to take what was meant for him, and 
 not another get it." 
 
 " Well, you were not in a condition to decide 
 
314 Drummer- Boy of the HappahannocJ:. 
 
 the matter, Bub. It showed that he thought a 
 good deal of you ; didn't it ?" 
 
 " 1 guess it did. Too bad ! Poor feller ! I 
 always fancied the man when he was round 
 Captain Frye's. Generous and frank, you know. 
 He had one trouble — but we all have something ; 
 and there's the pledge I told you about — in Skip- 
 per Bowser's boat-shop, you know — to show he 
 meant to get over that trouble. Too bad ! Too 
 bad ! He brought me out of the water, you re- 
 member, and now he saved me from Trickey ! 
 I am sure I am grateful — only — I wish I could 
 take his place. Poor feller ! " 
 
 While Griffin bustled about, handing bowls 
 of gruel to the patients or making their beds 
 more comfortable, Forrest lay in silent, profound 
 thought. His mind went back to that foggy 
 night by the sea, to the flaring crimson of the 
 forge flames, to the black wreck and the rescue, 
 to his own escape from drowning. 
 
 Griffin soon went into an adjoining room, and, 
 halting at the first bed on the right, looked 
 down upon its occupant. There in the high, 
 white forehead, the delicate but firm contour, 
 the pointed beard, was the tramp, Daniel En- 
 glish. Across his forehead was that old scar, the 
 stamp of high and honorable service. Would 
 his recent wounds heal ? 
 
TJie Hospital by the Rappahannock. 315 
 
 " Fast asleep ! " murmured Griffin, and then 
 stole back to Forrest. 
 
 " Did you see him ? " asked Forrest. 
 
 " Yes, but lie is asleep. They say he was an 
 orderly sergeant, and the talk is, as both lieu- 
 tenants in his company were shot, they'll jump 
 him right up. Shouldn't wonder if he got to 
 be a cap'n. Wise lookin' chap ! " 
 
 Daniel English did not readily rally, for the 
 doctors said he was more seriously hurt than 
 Forrest, and sometimes they looked exceedingly 
 sober when they spoke of his case. As soon as 
 he and Forrest were equal to it little messages 
 of a friendly nature were sent from one to the 
 other. 
 
 " I want to see you and thank you," said For- 
 rest, " as soon as 1 can come in." 
 
 " And I owe much to you, and have much 
 that I want to say to you on an important mat- 
 ter," replied the tramp. 
 
 " What is the important matter ? " wondered 
 Griffin. 
 
 He touched upon it himself one day. 
 
 "Griffin, they say Forrest is doing so well 
 that he can be in to see me soon. But before 
 tliat I want to tell you what is on my mind, and 
 perhaps you will then break it to him. I don't 
 know as I could stand it to tell it to him at once. 
 
316 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 It would be too trying, and — and — I am steadily 
 growing weaker." 
 
 " O, chirk up ! " said Griffin cheerily. 
 
 English shook his head. 
 
 " What is it that is on his mind ? " thought 
 Griffin. 
 
 He found out one day. He sat down by the 
 bed of English to hear the message he wished 
 to send to Forrest. With white, wasted face, 
 English lay upon his couch, his large, serious 
 eyes fastened upon the wall, as if trying to look 
 through it and beyond it to the far-off misty days 
 of the past. 
 
 " Do you know who I am, Griffin ? "' he asked 
 abruptly, still looking at the wall. 
 
 " I don't know who you are unless you are 
 just what every body says you are : Dan English, 
 and a brave feller; and goin' to be a cap'n or a 
 gin'ral, and lead the rest of us — a lot of cowards 
 — against the rebs and — " 
 
 English interrupted him — " O that will never 
 bo ! I — I — am — " 
 
 He luuked steadily at Griffin and Griffin re- 
 turned the searching gaze. 
 
 " I am — Forrest — Hooper's father ! " 
 
 " The jabbers you are ! " cried Griffin, hop- 
 ping up from his seat on the floor. '-You in 
 your senses ? " 
 
The Hospital by the Rcqypahannock. 317 
 
 He stood erect, looking down in astonishment 
 on his patient. 
 
 " Forrest Hooper's father ! Yes, I am that ! " 
 murmured English. 
 
 There was silence for a few moments, Griffin 
 still looking down and wondering if English 
 were not out of his head. 
 
 " Well, if things don't happen in this world ! 
 All I can say is he is a noble boy, that Forrest, 
 and you have acted worthy of him." 
 
 " Ycu think so ? " asked English, with a grati- 
 fied smile. 
 
 " I hiow so ! No think or guess about it." 
 
 " Now you'll say, how can 1 prove it ? " 
 
 "No, no, comrade! None of your provin'. 
 I am satisfied. You have shown yourself wor- 
 tliy to be a gin'ral and altogether above the rest 
 of us. Eest of us must stay drummers and sich 
 like." 
 
 But the sick soldier was feebly fumbling in 
 his bosom and now produced a locket. 
 
 " Won't you read what's on the back side and 
 open it. Griffin ?" 
 
 Griffin read: "Little Forrest," and, opening 
 it, saw a little boy in a child's frock. 
 
 " That's the way he used to look. You can 
 show it to him some time. He may have a 
 picture like it at home. Don't go now. Get 
 
318 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 my knapsack, please, and bring me some letters 
 marked ' My wife.' " 
 
 When Griffin had produced them he was 
 told to examine some of them. They were 
 old letters from Forrest's mother, full of descrip- 
 tions of the place where Forrest lived, and of 
 references to the neighbors, to Captain Frye, 
 Skipper Bowser, and even to a " little Nanny." 
 Only a person in the situation of Forrest's 
 mother could have written them. 
 
 "O!" exclaimed Griffin, "I brought along 
 this, not thinking." 
 
 "My Bible. Open it to the fly-leaf and just 
 read." 
 
 " ' Daniel Hooper, from his friend, Captain 
 Frye,' " said the fly-leaf. 
 
 " O, I see!" said Griffin. "I see how it is. 
 Don't pile on your proofs ! A man who has 
 done well as you need jest say so. Shall I 
 tell Forrest — I mean — Bub \ " 
 
 " Wait ! I want to say something. I used 
 to live near Cap'n Frye's, when Forrest was lit- 
 tle. I was a sailor then, and I was at home off 
 and on, coasting the most of my time. After 
 the death of my wife I went away, leaving For- 
 rest at Cap'n Frye's, sincerely anxious to return 
 and be of service to my child. I went to Cah- 
 fornia to work in its mines, taking a poor 
 
The Hospital by the Rappahminock. 319 
 
 companion — an old drinking habit that seemed 
 to shimber while my wife was living, but it 
 woke up again tliere in California. It pulled 
 me down as often as I tried to rise, and kept me 
 discouraged. I say ' it ' — I don't mean to excuse 
 myself, for I know that 'it' means 'me.' I 
 wrote to Cap'n Frye several times, saying that I 
 hoped soon to return. I became disgusted with 
 myself for saying and not doing; and at last I 
 stopped writing until I could say just when I 
 would return, and until I had something to re- 
 turn with. I made no progress, though, in 
 accumulating money ; and I determined at last 
 that I would, any wa}^, see my son, from whom I 
 had been separated so long, and 1 started for 
 the East. I was several years on my journey — 
 I am ashamed to say it — working in a ])lace a 
 year, and getting ahead a little, only to go back 
 through drink; gaining and losing conthuially. 
 I went to the war, was wounded, and was honor- 
 ably discharged from the service. I wanted to 
 find Forrest, and see if I could not be a fatlier, . 
 to him. At last, tramp-like, 1 turned up at Capt. 
 Frye's shop. I did not know Forrest then — he 
 has changed so. What I said in a conversation 
 upon drinking was no credit to me. I saw 
 Forrest rising. I knew that Mrs. Do Witt 
 w^ould help him get an education and that he 
 21 
 
320 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 would rise higher some day. People did not 
 seem to recognize me, thought I was a tramp — 
 yon see I came a-walking that I might save my 
 money for him — "' 
 
 " l!^ow had you not better be quiet and rest 
 awhile? Put off your story till to-morrow," 
 suggested Griffin. 
 
 "I feel that it must be done to-day; and I 
 shall be all right in a little while. I disgraced 
 myself, you remember, in the fish-house, and, not 
 knowing what I was doing, forced Forrest, al- 
 most, to drink. I determined to go off, but first I 
 signed the pledge, helped by something Nanny 
 Frye said to me — that there was no. telling how 
 high folks might go in this life. I went back to the 
 war, determined I would do as well as I could, 
 and I hoped to come back some day, to be a 
 help perliaps, and not a hinderance, to Forrest ; 
 to take him up and not pull him clown. Tlie old 
 name, Daniel Hooper, would not help him, and 
 Daniel Englisli would not hurt him. I never 
 felt right about taking that name English and 
 shuffling off Hooper, but my motive was good. 
 Well, I have tried to become a new man, and I 
 hope God has broken my chains of drink. I 
 was in the battle, the other day, and you know 
 the rest." 
 
 He stopped. Looking up into Griffin's face, 
 
The Hospital by the Rappahannock. 321 
 
 he said, '• To-morrow I will see Forrest, 
 and I am going to drop 'English' and be 
 ' Hooper,' and get a new name." 
 
 " You want me to tell Fori-est this ? " asked 
 Griffin. 
 
 *' Yes ; tell all jou can, and I'll say the 
 rest." 
 
 When Griffin went back to Forrest, the latter 
 was looking at a letter, 
 
 " Mail come, Bub ? " 
 
 " Yes, and letters from home ; and what do 
 you think this one from i^anny Frye says?" 
 
 " Dunno." 
 
 " Wliy, she tells a strange story. I had, or 
 she has, rather, an Aunt Huldah, and she called 
 Nanny back from a place near JSTew York — 
 Nanny, 3'ou see, was coming out this way as 
 nurse — but Aunt Huldah called her back and 
 had something important to tell her ; and what 
 she did say was something about that Sergeant 
 English. Guess what ! Of all the strange things 
 — now guess ! " 
 
 "Well, that he is your father." 
 
 " What makes you think so ? " 
 
 " He has just told me so." 
 
 "Well, that is strange! My father! My 
 father!" 
 
 And Forrest lay back in his bed, his eyes 
 
322 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 fastened in wonder on the stained ceiling over- 
 liead. " Mj father ! " he said again. 
 
 " Yes/' said Griffin, " and goin' to be an honor 
 to you — a General Hooper, or suthin' as good." 
 
 " Mj father ! " exclaimed Forrest again, his 
 eyes still fastened on the ceiling. " Well, I owe 
 him a debt of gratitude big enough, for he saved 
 my life twice." 
 
 " Then that old lady says he is your father ? " 
 
 " Yes, she knew him," 
 
 What Aunt Hnldah communicated, briefly, 
 was this : She had met Daniel Hooper in New 
 York, and he had befriended her and told her 
 who he was. Aunt Huldah felt that Forrest 
 ought to know it, and if Nanny was going to the 
 war then Nanny was the proper person to be 
 made custodian of this secret. Aunt Hnldah 
 was influenced by another reason. There were 
 property interests among the Hoopers. Forrest 
 ought to know of these, declared Aunt Hnldah. 
 "No tellin'," she told Nanny, "no tell in' what 
 may happen. Forrest ought to know about it. 
 His fatlier was so chop-fallen to think how he 
 had acted, that I am afraid he may be backward 
 to tell Forrest who he is and all about the prop- 
 erty, too. I feel easier to have you know it. 
 He told me not to tell till he acted better." 
 
 Nanny quickly discharged her trust, and in 
 
The Hospital by the Eappahannock. 323 
 
 the hospital by the Eappahannock Forrest soon 
 knew aih It came in good time to buttress and 
 support all that Griffin reported. 
 
 "My father!" Forrest kept murmuring in 
 astonishment. 
 
 In the niglit, word from the next ward came 
 that "the sergeant" was growing weaker. 
 Griffin went to his bed, and saw that it was so. 
 Hooper seemed more restful in mind, though, 
 as if he had dropped some burden. He saw 
 Griffin's anxious face and guessed the reason of 
 it. " Don't you worry. I shall live until to- 
 morrow to see him, but let him come early." 
 
 Early in the morning Forrest was borne in 
 Griffin's arms to the couch of his father and laid 
 near him, and there Forrest was left by the 
 drummer. 
 
 When Griffin went again, he saw Forrest in 
 tears, his arm about his lather's neck. 
 
 "It's all right," whispered the dying man. 
 " Did you change my name? " 
 
 " O, yes ! " said Griffin. " I put it on this 
 card. Said I would, to show the surgeon." 
 
 " Lay it where I can see it." 
 
 Griffin laid it on the bed. 
 
 " Put my Bible where I can see it." 
 
 Then Daniel Hooper closed his eyes. On one 
 side of the bed was his name, on the other 
 
324 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 that book telling of Him on whom he leaned — 
 the rod and stall of the pilgrim through the 
 valley. 
 
 " He is going, Forrest," whispered Griffin. 
 
 Forrest made no reply. He only bowed his 
 head down to the breast of his father, crying 
 bitterly. 
 
 "He has gone !" said Griffin. There was a 
 gasp, a quivering of the lips like the flutter of 
 the wings of a soul that was departing, and then 
 this house of the body was tenantless forever. 
 " He has gone !. " whispered Griffin once more. 
 
 The only reply was that of the morning sun, 
 that stole tlirough the window, and, shooting 
 a ray upon the card that lay upon the bed, 
 brought out into distinctness the new name 
 tliere, " Daniel Hooper." Like One of old, he 
 had given his life for another. 
 
In the A7'my Log-Hut. 325 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 IN THE ARMY LOG-HUT. 
 
 '• rpHERE," said Griffin, one raw, blustering 
 X niglit, throwing down an armful of wood 
 that lie had cut in the forest ; " now we will 
 have some heat out of this old fire-place." 
 
 He and Forrest were in one of the multitu- 
 dinous log-huts in which two great armies on 
 opposite sides of the Rappahannock were shel- 
 tered after the battle of Fredericksburg. The 
 Union army was on the Falmouth side. 
 Tliese huts had walls of logs and roofs of can- 
 vas. They were furnished wath fire-places. In 
 such army-homes the fire-places were built of 
 stone or brick or wood, and the chimney also 
 mio-ht be of wood. In the latter case, where 
 wood was used, there was a thick lining of mud. 
 A neglected chimney in the neighborhood might 
 supply brick, or, if stone were plentiful, the 
 chimneys of the log-huts would indicate it. 
 Forrest and Griffin occupied one of these winter- 
 homes. Forrest had gone into such a retreat 
 as soon as Griffin could build it and he him- 
 
326 Drummer-Boy of the Roppahannodc. 
 
 self was convalescent enough to occupy it. 
 Would you like to see the inside of these rough 
 arniy-honies, sheltering so many of the fathers of 
 the generation now stepping out into active life ? 
 If the fathers had not lived so humbly and roughly 
 the sons and daughters might not have the so 
 often easy and luxurious homes of to-day. Un- 
 doubtedly the prosperity now is founded in part 
 on the hardships of those army-days. 
 
 But take a peep into Forrest's home. It is 
 not spacious, for it was made for only two. 
 Look at the roof. That is only the two half- 
 shelters owned by Forrest and Griffin, and now 
 rising tent-like above the log walls. The chinks 
 in these walls were supposed to be plastered 
 tight with mud, but a suspiciously cold draft 
 was sometimes proof to the contrary. At the 
 end of this little coop was a single bunk. The 
 boards from boxes of " liard tack," so often the 
 soldier's ration, had been shaped by Griffin into 
 a sleeping-box at night, and Forrest had stuffed 
 old grain-sacks with pine-tips for a mattress. 
 There was a rude table, consisting of a hard- 
 tack - box cover resting on four oaken stakes 
 driven into the ground. 
 
 " One thing sure in tliis uncertain world," 
 exclaimed Forrest, '' and tliat is our table." 
 
 There was a single bench, whose seat consisted 
 
In the Army Log- Hut. 327 
 
 of one half of the split trunk of a young oak, 
 and tills was supported on primitive legs from 
 the forest-boughs. One stool, three-legged, had 
 a solitary look, but it was " awful handy," Grif- 
 fin said. Pegs were driven into the log walls, 
 and from these would generally hang such 
 familiar playthings of a soldier as his bayonet- 
 belt and cartridge-box. The old canteen and 
 haversack, those very serviceable friends, were 
 here hung, while the muskets of the infantry 
 had their appropriate pegs on which to recline 
 and idly dream of war. This was a drummer's 
 tent, and the drums at one side declared it. At 
 the head of the bunk were packages of under- 
 clothing, socks, and other comforts. These 
 were trunks by day and pillows at night. For- 
 rest had made a little shelf above the rough 
 lire-place, and here were the dishes of the es- 
 tablishment: two tin dippers, two tin plates, 
 two knives and forks, two spoons, and a few 
 other table conveniences; for Forrest, and Grif- 
 fin also, had received packages from home, and 
 some of their table wants had thus been sup- 
 plied. By the side of the fire-place was a fry- 
 ing-pan. The chimney of tlie fire-place was, 
 again, worthy of notice, generally constructed 
 of split wood laid in the style of cob houses, 
 the cracks filled and the interior lined with Yir- 
 
328 Druuuiter-Boy of the Ra2:>pahannock. 
 
 ginia's soft and famous red mud. Beef or pork 
 barrels miglit be used, one being piled upon 
 another. Sometimes tliis extemporized chim- 
 ney would catch fire. Then the commotion 
 could be described as lively. Did fire threaten 
 from below and water from above ? Yes, it 
 would rain in Virginia, the same as elsewhere, 
 and the roof would leak. Griffin or Forrest might 
 have spread the old army poncho or rubber blan- 
 ket on the outside of the flimsy roof, and this 
 protected as far as it extended. If they woke 
 np in the night and heard the dismal winter rain 
 pattering on the tent-roof they were generally 
 averse to making any out-door excursion, and. 
 to spreading any thing on the leaky canvas. 
 They would pull their rubber blankets over them 
 and let the water run where it would, provided 
 it flowed outside the bunk. This small coop 
 was occupied by " The Twins," so a little pla- 
 card without said. 
 
 Griffin, the night of our present chapter, had 
 brought in an armful of wood and proceeded 
 to lay a portion of it on tlie coals in the fire- 
 place. As he stirred the fire he proceeded to 
 discuss the sutler. That benevolent being was 
 privileged to follow an army and peddle out to the 
 soldiers any needed stores, but he was forbidden 
 to peddle liquor. The wood was green and the 
 
In the Army Log-Hat. 329 
 
 bed of coals not so fierj as might have been, and 
 Griffin tlien proceeded to discuss the lire while 
 Forrest was trying to make a candle stand iirm 
 on its stick, a small block of wood. Suddenly 
 a knock was heard outside the little shanty, and 
 the knocker did not wait until Griffin had 
 shouted, " Come in, if you can give the pass- 
 word ! " but pushed promptly in. 
 
 Forrest's first thought was, " What a tall fel- 
 low ! His head will go up through our 
 roof." 
 
 " Good-evenin' ! " said the stranger. " My 
 name is Yarney." 
 
 " ^o matter what it is ! " said Griffin. " Folks 
 are welcome 'slong as they behave — and 'slong 
 as they can get in ! " 
 
 Griffin laughed. 
 
 "Don't wonder you say that," replied Yar- 
 ney, good-naturedly. " Guess I'll sit down." 
 
 "Why, who is that?" thought Forrest. 
 " Yoice sounds natural, but I am sure I never 
 saw such a looking chap. He is all height, and 
 all beard and hair." 
 
 This strange Yarney was not only very tall, 
 but he had an immense beard and a huge head 
 of hair. 
 
 " Looks like a hay-stack set on a bean-pole," 
 was Griffin's description of him. "An old 
 
330 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 ostrich, I know. And lie's goin' to put on 
 
 t " 
 
 speck 
 
 A pair of sharp, glittering spectacles did not 
 make the tall ostrich a less noticeable object. 
 
 When he had, as Forrest characterized it, 
 " put in Jiis double windows," Forrest was more 
 mystified than ever, though he thought the 
 voice sounded natural. Seating himself on the 
 rough, plain bench in this home of " The 
 Twins," Yarnej abruptly inquired : 
 
 "' A man who had the name of English, and 
 yet was something else, died here in camp 
 lately, didn't he?" 
 
 " He was my father," said Forrest, with 
 dignity. 
 
 " He was, was he ? " replied Yarney, in a 
 cold, hard tone. " He owed me money. Did 
 he leave any paper about it, or say any 
 thing?" 
 
 " No," said Griffin. " When a man has got 
 his hands full of dyin' you can't expect him to 
 be thinkin' of every thing." 
 
 " Well, what about the people who live to 
 suffer ? " 
 
 "Let the people who live to suffer prove that 
 they have got any thing that they can claim," 
 said Forrest, promptly. 
 
 " Well, young man, I guess the proof can be 
 
lit the Army Log- Hat. 331 
 
 given. It don't look well to die and s:ij noth- 
 ing about your creditors." 
 
 " It don't look well to be going round and 
 slandering dead people's good name when you 
 don't show any proof of your claim, and I 
 sha'n't permit it," said Forrest, promptly. " If 
 you have any proof, any claim, show it." 
 
 The stranger made no audible reply, but kept 
 up an indistinct mumbling. 
 
 " Let me see your bill \ " asked Forrest. 
 
 " O— I— didn't bring it." 
 
 " Yery well, when I see it we will consider 
 it." 
 
 " O, no offense ! " said Yarney, adopting a 
 quieter tone ; " no offense ! You might some 
 time look at his papers. Where do you keep 
 them? Have you got them handy ? " 
 
 Here Forrest looked toward the head of his 
 bunk, and the spectacles followed that look im- 
 mediately. Griffin was quick enough to notice 
 this. 
 
 " Well, they are handy enough," replied For- 
 rest, slowly, enumerating rapidly in iiis thought 
 the four business documents which his father 
 had prepared. Two were statements about a 
 few small debts, but none of these were due one 
 " Yarney." A third recognized Forrest as his 
 son, and so his heir to any possessions left be- 
 
332 Drummer- Boy of the R'ippahannock. 
 
 hind, and to any interest he had in any " Hooper 
 property," which Aunt Hiildah well knew to be 
 of importance. A fourth was a declaration, 
 properly witnessed, that " Daniel English " had 
 not signed his name to any paper purporting 
 that he had witnessed a surrender of the " great 
 meadow," or any other part of Captain Frye's 
 property, to Gilbert French. This document 
 had not been sent home, but its contents had, 
 and jSTanny wrote that it had kept in a very 
 pacific state of mind Gilbert French's special 
 clerk, doing business as Gilbert's agent in his 
 absence. 
 
 These documents Forrest now recalled, and 
 knew they were in the package of valuables at 
 the head of his bunk, but no Yarney was men- 
 tioned in any of them. 
 
 " jS^othing against one Yarney or in Yarney's 
 favor; nothing at all," said Forrest, looking to- 
 ward the head of his bunk. Yarney looked 
 where Forrest looked. Griffin noticed this 
 again. 
 
 Yarney seemed to be entirely satisfied, for he 
 rose and said he must go. 
 
 " Beg pardon, but look out ! " exclaimed 
 Griffin, fearful that the " ostrich's " head would 
 strike and carry away the humble hut-roof. 
 
 " — I forgot something ! " and down the 
 
In the Army Log-TIut. 333 
 
 ostrich dropped. '' Get some water and sugar. 
 I want to treat ! " 
 
 The drummer-boy, who liad been accustomed 
 to take sides so readily, stepped back as he saw 
 Yarney produce a iiask. He knew Griffin's in- 
 firmity and was sorry to see this temptation 
 confronting hira. 
 
 " Looks like the evil one ! " tliought Forrest, 
 stirring not to produce either of the desired 
 articles and showing an intensified look of dis- 
 gust. Griffin had caught the odor of the liquor 
 and had stepped forward to get the water and 
 see if any of that precious commodity, sugar, 
 might be on the premises. He saw, though, 
 Forrest's look, and hesitated. 
 
 "Don't— don't you want any, Bub?" asked 
 Griffin. 
 
 "No, I thank you." 
 
 "Jest a sip. Bub," pleaded Griffin. 
 
 "No, I thank you!" said Forrest, earnestly, 
 and looking intently at Yarney, who had begun 
 to pour the whisky out of his flask into Griffin's 
 dipper. 
 
 "Why, what makes ye look so? What do 
 3^ou see ? " asked Griffin. 
 
 " O — I — I — " Forrest's hesitating tongue 
 halted. 
 
 " Tell away, boy, tell away ! " said Yarney^ 
 
33 4 Drum :t i cr-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 wliOj in Forrest's eyes, seemed more like the evil 
 one than ever. 
 
 "Well, I seem to see an old distillery at home, 
 and tlie lires, and the still like a serpent twisted, 
 and the men going about in the liglit like 
 demons, and once I saw a woman crying in the 
 dusty old counting-room — " 
 
 " Ha-lia-ha ! " yelled the ostrich, throwing up 
 his great head of bushy hair and his sharp 
 spectacles, and then opening his mouth wide, as 
 if he were about catching something exceed- 
 ingly funny or exceedingly wise, or both, and 
 wanted to swallow all he could. 
 
 " You ever see a distillery, really ? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes, sir; and I know what misery it 
 makes." 
 
 " Yes," said Griffin, soberly, " I know about 
 it, too. I had a father who worked in a dis- 
 tillery—" 
 
 He sighed and added : 
 
 " And it made trouble enough." 
 
 " O, well, let it go," urged Yarney. " There 
 is no distillery down here. Take some ! " 
 
 " No, but we can make the appetite down here 
 that can only be satisfied by having distilleries 
 at home," said Forrest. 
 
 "Take it!" petulantly exclaimed Yarnej', 
 and shaking his head. 
 
In the Army Log-Hat. 335 
 
 Disregarding Forrest lie pushed the whisky 
 and water toward Griffin. 
 
 '• JN" — 1) — no ! This joung feller wouldn't like 
 it," said Griffin. 
 
 " Didn't think I should get into a temperance 
 meeting to-night. The young fanatic ! " ex- 
 claimed Yarney, rising. " Well, if you will only 
 pay me what your father cheated me out of — " 
 
 " Don't you say that ! " cried Forrest. " Let's 
 have your proof ! " 
 
 "No," added Griffin. "Don't talk that way. 
 The door might come close up to you all of a 
 sudden and you find yourself outside." 
 
 " O, well ! Think I'll be going, if I can't have 
 civil treatment," said the ostrich, giving one 
 stride which took him to the door, and then he 
 bowed to pass out. 
 
 " Sa}^ ! Are you the new sutler ? " asked 
 Griffin. "Goin' to have one, you know." 
 
 " No matter what I am. I am not a — cheat." 
 
 Griffin was rushing after him, but he disap- 
 peared quickly in the dark. Griffin came 
 back, and the two drummers silently contem- 
 plated the fire, which was now roaring and 
 flashing. 
 
 " Let him go ! " at last remarked Griffin. 
 " Pleasanter to talk about the fire and look at it. 
 
 Abominable scamp ! " 
 
 22 
 
336 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 " Yes ; a rascal. Hold on ! Lee me do that. 
 I'll empty that whisky and water and wash 
 your dipper, Cy." 
 
 " Thankee, Bub." 
 
 When Forrest came into the hut again, he ap- 
 proached the " old man " and said : 
 
 " I wish you would do one thing, Cy." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Promise you won't touch whisky or any 
 thing of the kind ever." 
 
 " Pretty stiff pledge, that. What, never take 
 it?" 
 
 "No, never." 
 
 Griffin shook his head. 
 
 "Too long a time. Put it easy, say a — a — 
 month." 
 
 " Could you go it a day ? " 
 
 " A day ? O, land ! Of course I could. 
 
 "Well, to keep it a year, or five years, or al- 
 ways, you've only got to go a day at a time. 
 That is all!" 
 
 " So it is ! Never thought of that. Only a day 
 at a time ! Does seem as if I ought to go that." 
 
 " Give us^your hand on it. A day at a time ! 
 Come, Cy ! " 
 * "Well! Here goes!" 
 
 And the two hands met, there before the fire 
 in that army-cabin by the Rappahannock. 
 
In the Army Log-Hut. 337 
 
 That night Griffin did sometliing unusual. 
 
 " Say, Bub, one good thing, thej say, helps 
 on another. Taking that pledge moves me to 
 say it. Where's your Bible? Guess I'll read 
 a chapter." 
 
 Forrest handed him Nanny's Bible, and the 
 big drummer was soon bending over a psalm. 
 
 That night Forrest did not sleep readily after 
 he had gone to his bunk. He lay in silence listen- 
 ing to the winct roaring through the Falmouth 
 forests. Then it sank lower, lower, and he heard 
 drops pattering on the roof. Griffin was some- 
 thing of a weather-prophet. He had expected 
 rain, and had said : 
 
 " Bub, goin' to have some wet, and Fll spread 
 our rubber blankets on the outside." 
 
 Upon the rubber-blankets Forrest heard the 
 rain dripping. He had a grateful sense of se- 
 curity. It was an hour inclining one to medi- 
 tation, and Forrest lay there a long time, as it 
 seemed to him, in deep thought. Since he had 
 come into the army, life had enlarged into such 
 a great reality. It was so much wider and 
 deeper and higher than any thing he had ever 
 imagined it to be when his home was just in a 
 corner by the sea. O that life was so little, so 
 little ! And he was only a boy then, thinking 
 about such small subjects as hoeing the corn 
 
338 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 ill the patch back of the barn, or pounding a 
 piece of iron in the shop, or driving up to the 
 Port with a load of potatoes. And here he 
 was — a part of a great tragic niov^enient that 
 was to settle the destiny of a nation I He had 
 seen what a battle was — and O it was awful ! 
 He had been wounded. He had been in the 
 hospital. He had been through so much and 
 changed so much that he wondered if his friends 
 would know him. Would Nanny, with her eyes 
 so full of knowledge, recognize him ? Wouldn't 
 Miranda Jane Bowser exclaim, " Do tell! This 
 ain't you?" And Gilbert French, he would 
 not look down upon and despise Forrest Hoopur 
 now. Such a wonderful change in his life had 
 taken place, making him a man. T]ien lie had 
 found his father, who had won an honorable 
 name and died gloriously. If he could have 
 lived Forrest would have proved his gratitude 
 to the parent who twice had saved his life. A 
 home witli Nanny and his father would have 
 been so pleasant ! Forrest was soi-ry this could 
 not be. He was glad, though, that he could 
 be with his father in his last dying moments. 
 That had been an abiding comfort to Forrest. 
 Above all things else, too, he had found liis 
 heavenly Father. That had enlarged Jiis ex- 
 perience and greatened his range of thinking, 
 
In the Army Log- Hut. 339 
 
 It had let him out into a life where the sky 
 went up so very, very high, and the soft, blue 
 horizon-line stretched so far away. With the 
 great Father filling all this space he had come 
 into communion, and it gave such a reach to 
 life, such meaning. It set him to thinking, far 
 more profoundly than when lie left home, about 
 this war in which he had engaged. If God were 
 interested in the life of Forrest Hooper, which 
 comparatively was so small, must he not be 
 sometlihig more than a spectator of the life of 
 the nation — so vast and far-reaching ? And if he 
 were a just and great God would he not some- 
 how take ont of the way that great evil, slavery, 
 which was at the bottom of the war ? Would 
 not the evil terminate in good ? Forrest recalled 
 the life of the day that was now over. It made 
 such an impression on him — that appearance of 
 the ostrich, as Griffin nick-named him. The 
 man's voice Forrest seemed to know. It so in- 
 fluenced him that he thought of the man as a 
 voice in a tall frame, a voice under an immense 
 head of hair, a voice behind those devouring 
 spectacles. Forrest could not think of the 
 stranger as one Yarney, but as one Voice that 
 he had somewhere heard. He did not like to 
 hear it, and he preferred to hear the rain and 
 think of something else. He preferred to think 
 
340 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 how tliis evil one's attempt to get whisky down 
 the throat of Griffin had ended in Griffin's re- 
 fusal to take it, and subsequently in Gritlin's 
 promise never to drink liquor. That was a 
 pleasant conclusion to the unpleasant preface of 
 that evening, the evil ending in the good. 
 Might not other things have a like termination ? 
 Might not this great rebellion that Forrest had 
 come to suppress end in obedience? Might not 
 slavery end in freedom ? Forrest had struck a 
 path pleasant to follow. He saw great processes 
 of evil leading on to, preparing for, introducing, 
 good. Behind the process he saw God. This 
 was veiy comforting. It was a pleasant strain 
 of thought, that helped out tlie music of the 
 rain on the roof of the hut. 
 
 " Yes, evil to-night ended in good," said the 
 drowsy drummer. 
 
 But there was the evil one left. How did the 
 evening terminate for him ? He went to the 
 tent of the new sutler vowing vengeance. 
 
The Negro Cabin in the Hollow. 341 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE NEGRO CABIN IN THE HOLLOW. 
 
 ^'- T THmK I will take a walk out through the 
 _L woods, Cy," said Forrest one noon. " It 
 is such a pleasant day." 
 
 " Good luck to ye, Bub. Don't let the rebs 
 gobble ye up." 
 
 " JSTone on our side of the river." 
 " You'll find 'em if you go far enough." 
 " Might say, if you keep on going north 
 you'll come to the North Pole." 
 
 " I would like to have a chance to go north. 
 I know where I would fetch up." 
 " So would I." 
 
 Life was monotonous in this big city of log- 
 huts, where the only occupation was to obey the 
 bugle-calls to various camp duties, none of 
 which seemed to bear directly on the great 
 question of closing up the war speedily. How- 
 ever, in the quarters of "The Twins" there 
 was an effort made not to growl, but patiently 
 wait until campaign weather set in, and good, 
 effective work could be done. This pleasant day 
 
342 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 Forrest resolved on a stroll inside the Union 
 lines. 
 
 " There is Yarney ! " he said, as he passed the 
 tent of the new sutler, " He is as big a mystery 
 as ever." 
 
 During the war "the sutler" was a promi- 
 nent personage in the camps. He was a civilian, 
 appointed by due authority, and allowed to fol- 
 low the army and supply the troops with various 
 necessities and comforts in addition to army sup- 
 plies. But for value received there was a good 
 price paid out. Butter, at one time, was dealt 
 out at the rate of a dollar a pound, and a like 
 weight of cheese brought fifty cents, and a can 
 of condensed milk was valued at seven ty-iive 
 cents. I can taste to this very day an apple 
 obtained of a sutler in the Army of the Poto- 
 mac, and I ate it closer down to the core than 
 any school-boj' could have done. Three apples, 
 that autumn, brought, I think, twenty five cents. 
 Sutler prices were classified as high, but it nnist 
 be remembered that it was hard to obtain goods 
 and transport them, and that the value of the 
 "scrip-money " used in those days was much less 
 than that of our peace-currency. The new 
 sutler, A-^arney, was not popular. Undoubtedly 
 he was a screw. "The Twins" regarded him 
 as a knave. 
 
llie N'egro (Jahlii in the Hollow. 343 
 
 " And what is tlie trouble now ? " wondered 
 Forrest, as he slowly sauntered by Yarney's 
 tent and through the open door saw the limited 
 stock of dry goods, eatables, and other com- 
 modities. 
 
 " That is a captain," reflected Forrest, " and 
 he and Yarney are having a pretty earnest talk." 
 
 Earnest ? Spiteful, angry, hot ! 
 
 " I think you sell liquor," charged the officer. 
 " Fact is, I know so." 
 
 " Who told you ? Let me have specific 
 charges," replied Yarney. 
 
 Here he lifted his big bush of hair and saw 
 Forrest halting. 
 
 '' You w^ant any thing ? " angrily yelled the 
 sutler. 
 
 "I want to see this man alone," said the offi- 
 cer to Forrest, who was properly saluting him. 
 
 " Yery well, sir," replied the drummer, mov- 
 ing on, saying to himself, " Two such hints that 
 a man is not wanted are enough." 
 
 Forrest strayed through the forest, and the 
 farther he went the more strongly he was in- 
 clined to stray farther still. The day was mild. 
 The ground was bare. The air had a tonic-like 
 effect. 
 
 '• Where are the pickets?" wondered Forrest. 
 '' I can't have got beyond them, can I % " 
 
344 Dnimmer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 He could not say positively, but he did not 
 believe that he had slipped past the picket-line. 
 There were many that contrived to slip away 
 in that fashion during the war, and who made 
 tlie utuiost of this advantage, never coining 
 back, 
 
 " Think I will turn now,'' said Forrest. Then 
 he stopped. " What is that ? " he asked. 
 
 Down in a hollow, at his left, he saw a cabin 
 such as a colored family might occupy. 
 
 " Looks empty," thought Forrest. Then he 
 had a natural curiosity to know more about this 
 empty-seeming cabin. He went up to the closed 
 door and knocked. I^obody answered. 
 
 The sun was pouring around the door a Hood 
 of golden warmth, and, as Forrest was weary, he 
 could not resist the temptation to sit down on a 
 chopping-block near the door. Taking the va- 
 cant seat he sunned himself there at the door, 
 and, looking up, wondered if there might not be 
 a direct road home to camp. Suddenly he 
 heard voices in the cabin. 
 
 " Ah, indeed I Somebody is inside, after all. 
 Think I will knock and ask about the way to 
 camp. Blacks live here, and 'twill be safe 
 enough," concluded the drummer. 
 
 Rap ! rap ! rap ! 
 
 The voices were instantly hushed. 
 
The Negro Cabin in the Holloio. 345 
 
 "That is funny! Are they afraid of me?" 
 wondered Forrest. 
 
 Rap ! rap ! rap ! 
 
 No resf)onse. 
 
 Then Forrest said, " Colored folks are all 
 friendly to our side, and I can fetch thera." 
 
 He raised his voice and called out : 
 
 " Say ! it is a Union soldier ! Wants to know 
 the way." 
 
 There was the sound as of the dropping of a 
 heavy bar, and at the door, partially lield open, 
 appeared the scared while kindly face of a col- 
 ored man. 
 
 " Beg pardon, massa ! Ye wan' to know de 
 way ? Dat paf dar yer bes' paf." 
 
 " I came that way. No shorter way back to 
 the Union camp ? " 
 
 " Jes' so ! Dat all." 
 
 Forrest had a singular desire to see the inside 
 of this cabin, though he could give no intelli- 
 gent reason for the curiosity, and he added : 
 
 " I'm a Union soldier — " 
 
 " O, yah ! Dat so ! Good folk, all de Union 
 men." 
 
 " Well, just let me step inside," and not wait- 
 ing for an invitation, Forrest passed in. He 
 continued : " Your wife — O, nobody here ? " 
 
 Forrest looked about the cabin, but it was 
 
340 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 seeiniiiglj as empty as an egg-sliell when the 
 chicken has been liatched. The negro had 
 looked distressed, but the moment Forrest said, 
 " Nobody liere," his face was cleared of the cloud 
 of anxiety ruffling it, and he began to laugh in 
 a happy tone of relief, " Ah, massa, Wash'ntun 
 got no wife — " 
 
 " Tliat your name ? Splendid name ! " 
 
 "Wasli'ntun, yah!" and the present Wash- 
 ington stood erect in conscious pride. 
 
 " I thought I heard a voice," remarked 
 Forrest. 
 
 Just then, his eye detected a heap of bed- 
 clothes in one corner, and over toward the wall 
 of tlie cabin, thrust from under the bed-clothes, 
 were the tips of four fingers — white ! 
 
 " Ah," said Forrest, promptly moving toward 
 this apparently untenanted heap of clothes, 
 "there is the other man, and it isn't black, 
 either ! " 
 
 " O, massa — O — O ! " pleaded Washington, 
 stretching out his hands. 
 
 The whole Union army, though, seemed to 
 Forrest to be inside of liim, and he felt that an 
 inspection must be made. Besides, there was 
 the prospect of an adventure, and Forrest wel- 
 comed it as a gull does the sight of the broad 
 Atlantic. He did not take into consideration 
 
The Negro Cahin in the Holloto. 347 
 
 the fact that a powerful Confederate might be 
 hiding away under the bed-clothes, but cour- 
 ageously went forward and lifted the clothing. 
 There he eaw a young man about his own size 
 and age. He was dressed in the Southern gray. 
 Forrest did not have any thing to fear from this 
 hide-away, for he was deadly pale, very thin, 
 and evidently was sick. His eyes were sunken 
 and hollow, and had a tired, worn look. 
 
 " Well ! " said Forrest, and paused. He was as 
 surprised as the young man in the bed, but this 
 Iwdeaway could say two words while Forrest 
 had only breath for one. 
 
 " You satisfied ? " asked the young stranger. 
 
 " You sick ? " asked Forrest. 
 
 "Don't I look so?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 There was then an awkward halt in the con- 
 versation. The colored populace in the rear, 
 though numbering only one, showed fright 
 enough for a dozen, and stood wringing his 
 hands, muttering, shaking his head. 
 
 " Wliat has got to be done ? " thought Forrest. 
 "Arrest him '^ Lug him to camp? Stay here, 
 shall I, on guard ? " 
 
 "Well," interrupted the young Confederate, 
 " w^hat are you going to do about it? You 
 have a prisoner, it is true, but, sir, you haven't 
 
348 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 got much of a prize. You might take me on 
 your back." 
 
 This made Forrest laugh, and a smile bright- 
 ened the sad, dark ej-es of the young man also. 
 Washington, though^ was gloomy as the Arctic 
 Ocean in a tempest. 
 
 " Sorry to see you sick," said Forrest, to whom 
 occurred the thought that if he prolonged the 
 conversation some course of action might suggest 
 itself to him. 
 
 Forrest's expression of regret touched the 
 young stranger, 
 
 " Yes, sick enough ! If my father's old serv- 
 ant—" 
 
 "He?" asked Forrest, nodding toward the 
 still perturbed ^Yashington. 
 
 "Yes. He has been in the De Witt fam- 
 ily-" 
 
 The young Southerner stopped abruptly and 
 tried to turn over. 
 
 " De AVitt ? " thought Forrest. " Where have 
 I heard that name? Sounds as if I had heard it 
 before." 
 
 When he saw the young soldier trying to 
 turn, he stooped and kindly said, " Let me turn 
 you ! " 
 
 "Xo — no ! Washington ! " angrily called out 
 the Southerner. 
 
The Negro Cabin in the Hollow. 349 
 
 " Yah, massa ! I'll jes turn ye ! Da, da, fur 
 ye! So — now, easy! Dar! Feel better, don' 
 ye ? A heap better, lioney ? " 
 
 The young man nodded, and then panted 
 heavily, as if every little movement wearied him 
 He made, though, a sudden effort and pulled 
 the ragged quilt over his head as if to shut out 
 the sight of a Yankee, Forrest had not yet de- 
 cided upon the best course of action concern- 
 ing this unexpected prisoner, and was still think- 
 ing over what he, the Union army, had better 
 do. His generous nature led him to break out 
 into the exclamation, " Poor fellow ! It tires 
 you." 
 
 "Ef, ef, massa," said Washington, turning 
 and bowing to Forrest, "ye could gib him a sip 
 of water out ob yer canteen ! Our water hab a 
 mizzable taste." 
 
 " O, yes, certainly ! " 
 
 Forrest took off his canteen, the soldier's 
 invariable companion, and handed it to Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 " I have got some bread in my haversack and 
 you could toast it, if you want it. You are wel- 
 come to it," 
 
 " Tankee, massa ! He don' hab much ob a 
 hanker for inos' t'ings dese yer days, but dat 
 bread am lubly. Tankee ! " . 
 
350 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 "If I liavc any tiling else," said Forrest, feel- 
 ing in his haversack, "if — O there! Afraid I 
 have nothing but these ! " 
 
 He here pulled out several leaflets and two 
 illustrated religious papers. These had been 
 distributed through the agency of that splendid 
 servant of good, the Christian Commission. 
 
 *' I'll put some of these in my haversack," he 
 said to Griffin one day. "It is a kind of seed- 
 corn, and it won't do any harm to take them 
 along and I may do some good with them." 
 
 "I expect yon'U get to be a chaplain, some 
 day. Bub," replied Gi-iffin. 
 
 Some of tliis seed-corn Forrest now laid on 
 the heap of bed-clothes before him. 
 
 " May be something in that to help along 
 folks in trouble," remarked Forrest. " Good 
 reading, you know. I don't doubt but there is 
 something there that will help any body in 
 trouble." 
 
 All this time an interesting movement was in 
 progress among the bed-clothes. At the men- 
 tion of the word " canteen," the quilt came off 
 the black, curly locks. When Forrest said 
 bread, the quilt was pulled off the shoulders. 
 When Forrest began to shower down his tracts 
 and held out his papers bright with illustrations, 
 the quilt was thrown resolutely back, and, with 
 
Tlie Negro Cabin in the Hollow. 351 
 
 a strong effort, turning his head, the Southerner 
 asked :^" You that kind of folks 1 " 
 
 "What, sir?" 
 
 " You a Christian ? " 
 
 "I try to be — want to be. I am going to 
 take a stand that v/aj whenever I get a chance. 
 Don't mean to be ashamed of my colors." 
 
 With an unexpected energy, the Southerner 
 cried, " Washington, put up that bar ! " 
 
 The old colored servant nimbly sprang to the 
 door, and laid across it a stout oaken bar. 
 
 " There ! Now I am going to tell the whole 
 story, if you are that kind of a man ; and from 
 your talk I think you feel as I — do— too — " 
 
 " Don' yer talk too much, honey," said Wash- 
 ington affectionately. 
 
 " I_ril try to be careful. You might let me 
 have a drink again out of that canteen. Didn't 
 know Union water tasted so good." 
 
 " Splendid ! " said Forrest enthusiastically. 
 
 " Now I will tell you my story. I belong to 
 the Confederate army, born — born in the South, 
 but living in the Xorth the most of ray life. 
 My name is Arthur De Witt — " 
 
 Forrest started up. 
 
 "Hold on ! I have been trying to locate that 
 name. 'Tisn't likely it's the same family, but 
 an old ladv's vacht was wrecked off our farm — 
 23 
 
352 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 we live by the sea — and she came from the 
 neighborhood of New York city, and liad a 
 granddaughter, Belle — " 
 
 "That's it; that's it!" 
 
 " And you are Arthur ! Then there is some- 
 thing in my haversack besides the bread and the 
 tracts you will be interested in. It's a letter 
 from Nanny Frye — " 
 
 "Nanny Frye?" 
 
 The drummer-boy blushed. 
 
 "She is a friend of mine." 
 
 "O!— O!— I see—" 
 
 " She was coming out here, and went to Mrs. 
 De Witt's first, but her Aunt Huldah's sickness 
 stopped it, and she went back. She wrote me, 
 though, that she saw Belle, and she, thinking 
 Nanny was coming, told her, if she should see 
 Arthur De Witt—" 
 
 Arthur was now reddening. 
 
 " Told her to look after him." 
 
 " Did she ? Let me have your hand." 
 
 The poor fellow's nerves were too weak for 
 much self-control, and he began to cry. 
 
 " Dar, honey, dar ! Hush-sh ! " said Washing- 
 ton, kindly bustling up to the old bed. "Ye 
 got 'mong yer own folk ! Now, hush-sh-sh ! " 
 And the old servant sitting on the bed folded 
 his arms about Arthur as if he were a baby. 
 
The Negro Cabin in the Hollow. 353 
 
 " I'll be careful. This is good ! This news 
 tastes better than the water from that Union 
 canteen — " 
 
 " Bes' water in de worl', chile. I'se go fur de 
 Union ! " 
 
 " Well, this is good ! You sit down, please. 
 "We have one box. We haven't asked you to do 
 that, but we didn't know who you were — " 
 
 " O that is all right ! I am Forrest Hooper, a 
 drummer in the Union army." 
 
 '' Take dis yer cheer," said Washington, bow- 
 ing profoundly, and tendering an old black box 
 that had been hidden in the shadows of a corner. 
 
 Forrest sat down and Arthur went on with his 
 story. 
 
 " I said I was mostly brought up at the North 
 by my grandfather after my mother's death, and 
 that accounts for my feelings, for I never felt 
 fully at ease in the Southern army. But I will 
 tell you how 1 felt, and how I think many felt. 
 At the South there is a strong feeling that we 
 ought to be left to ourselves. It is what they 
 call ' State Rights.' Now I know your answer : 
 tliat if every State goes off when it wants to 
 we shall be all flying to pieces ; that there will be 
 no stability ; that there is danger of continual 
 splitting, and fighting, and bloodshed. Yes, I 
 understand that, and feel the force of it, espe- 
 
354 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 ciallj when I have been Ijing here, with plenty 
 of time on my hands to think. Then there is 
 slavery. We think we ought to be left to man- 
 age that. And I know, too, how you Northern- 
 ers feel about that : that it won't be managed at 
 all in the right way by the South, that slavery 
 will be stopped under the Union, and I see — " 
 
 " Dat dis yer war am a-gwine fur to stop it," 
 said a voice, eagerly. 
 
 " I know, Washington ; I expect that will be 
 the end of it. Well, I was a-goiiig to speak of 
 Southern feeling. It was a mistake to begin the 
 war, but — it was started, and you have lived long 
 enough to know how it is when a thing is begun. 
 I held off long as I could — was in business in 
 Hichmond — and then the current of popular 
 feeling took me off my feet. I couldn't seem to 
 help it, and I didn't want to go back on my 
 friends and neighbors. They are warm-hearted, 
 you know, real warm-hearted at the South — " 
 
 " Yes, but you went back on those at the 
 Korth, your grandmother. Belle — " 
 
 " O yes, I have seen that, I suppose, a hun- 
 dred times as I have been lying here. Let me 
 see. Where was I ? " 
 
 " Yer habn' tole how yer fought an' marched 
 f roo lick and fin — " 
 
 " No, Washington, the less said about my 
 
The Negro Cabui in tJie Hollow. 355 
 
 bravery the better. However, when I went into 
 the war, Washington went with nie. I didn't 
 get a scratch for a long time. My father — the 
 only one of my family living at the South when 
 the ^var opened — my mother was dead — my 
 father was killed at Antietam. I came up here 
 with some of our soldiers, and we had a brush 
 with your men, and, when it was over, the next 
 thing that I knew I was stretched out on the 
 field where we had fought, and Washington was 
 bending over me trying to tie up my wounds, 
 and he has done splendidly—" 
 
 " O, massa, ye jes' a-wand'rin' now 1 " 
 
 " Tiien 1 won't wander. I was a-going to say 
 that Washington somehow came across this 
 cabin, and brought me here, as it was empty — 
 save a heap of bed-clothes and a box — and we 
 have managed to keep here and not be dis- 
 covered by any soldiers. Washington, as a 
 colored man, could keep the Union men out, 
 and the Southerners, of course, wouldn't be 
 likely—" 
 
 " Ye hab'n' tol' 'bout dat sutler." 
 
 " O no ! Washington has bought some things 
 of a sutler. Not very often, for it was risky. 
 I said Union men had been kept out. That 
 sutler was curious to know where Washington 
 Went, and followed him one day, and he has 
 
356 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 been inside. He knows about me, and wants 
 money to keep hushed up, or he says he will 
 have me arrested and taken away — •" 
 
 "But why not go yourself?" said Forrest, 
 who was now beginning to get light on the sub- 
 ject of the best course to be taken by him. 
 "Your friends are at the North, your conv^ic- 
 tions tell you that you ought to be on that 
 side. Then, you ought to liave hospital-treat- 
 ment and — " 
 
 " Why not be arrested ? " 
 
 " Why not do your duty like a man ? Soon as 
 you can, go to head-quarters. The end will be 
 that you will be sent to the hospital now, and you 
 will go North when you are convalescent — " 
 
 " I hate to go back on my old friends at the 
 South ! There ! I tell you it will be glorious 
 when this war is over, and it will be, some time 
 and we shall have settled all our troubles — and 
 the North and the South will move on together, 
 one happy, glorious country — " 
 
 " We ought to have been one happy, glorious 
 country without all this horrid fuss of a war," 
 said Forrest, promptly. 
 
 " I know it ! I know it ! 'Twas a mistake, but 
 when we do come out of it, and we have settled 
 every thing and move along together, won't it 
 be glorious ! " 
 
The Negro Cabin in the Hollow. 357 
 
 " Yes, yes ! No slavery—" 
 
 " Jes' so! jes' so," said the dusky Wasbiugton 
 
 softly. 
 
 " We will be a grand nation tben, and we will 
 handle every good cause together, and put down 
 the wrong— glorious, Arthur !— if I may call you 
 so." 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Here Forrest wound his arm about the young 
 Southerner, the blue and gray touching in 
 friendliness and peace. It was a sight that made 
 "the father of his country" wipe his eyes on his 
 ragged coat-sleeve. 
 
 "The only thing is to know what to do now, 
 Forrest— if you will let me call you so." 
 
 "O yes! Say so! Well, do what is right. 
 The man I lived with was great on taking sides. 
 If a thing were right he would say, ' Why not 
 go over to that side, and stand there ? ' Your 
 Southern friends will respect your convictions." 
 
 " I don't see but what an important question 
 is. What will yoio do ? I am your prisoner," 
 said Arthur, smiling. 
 
 " That has puzzled me. I don't see but the 
 only way is the right way— to report the case in 
 camp— and the result will be that a squad will 
 come with me and carry my prisoner to the hos- 
 pital. Then we will get you well as fast as pos- 
 
358 Druminer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 sible. You can't have proper treatment here. 
 Why, you haven't been able to h\y aside your 
 uniform, for you have no clothing in its place. 
 Poor feller ! Yes, I see what ought to be done. 
 I clearly think my duty is to have you arrested. 
 Then you will get good treatment in the hos- 
 pital. At the end of that time what to do next 
 can be decided then. How does that strike 
 you?" 
 
 "I don't see but you will have to refer it to 
 your own judgment and conscience. Only if I 
 should get in before you, and conclude to take 
 the oath of allegiance, that would save you the 
 trouble of arresting me. That would be a joke 
 on you,"' 
 
 And the Blue and the Gray laughed, and the 
 *' father of his country" joined in the laughter. 
 
 "I must be going now. But who is that?" 
 asked Forrest. " O, I know." 
 
 A tall form passed and darkened the one low 
 window in tlie room. 
 
 " Me see ! Dat sutler ! I 'spise him ! " mut- 
 tered Washington. 
 
 "I'll attend to him." said Forrest, with au- 
 thority. " He sha'n't trouble you. Yon shall 
 have food and comforts. I'll leave my canteen 
 and wliat bread I liave. xlnd — good! Here is 
 some coffee ! Take all. I'll see vou again soon." 
 
The Negro Cabin in the Bolloio. 
 
 359 
 
 Forrest turned when be reached the door. 
 
 " I ain going to write home to-night, and 
 through Nanny Frye I can send a message to 
 Belle De Witt. You want to send your love or 
 be remembered ? " 
 
 " Send the same kind of thing you send to 
 Nanny Frye ! " 
 
 " All right ! Now for the sutler ! " 
 
 When Forrest, though, had stepped outside 
 he saw no sign of the presence that had thrown 
 a shadow on the cabin-window. Forrest al- 
 ways connected some liorror with that tall form, 
 gliding swiftly, stealthily along, and a sinister 
 light flashed out of his conspicuous spectacles, 
 not at all suggesting a sun-ray but the glare of 
 the lightning at night ; one moment sharp and 
 dazzling, then vanishing into a darkness deeper 
 than ever. But Forrest found just the bright 
 sunshine playing all about the homely old cabin. 
 The sunshine poured down also upon the path 
 through the woods. 
 
 " Don't see that Yarney anywhere ! " ex- 
 claimed Forrest, and, ^Yhistling "The Star-span- 
 gled Banner," he trudged briskly away toward 
 the great martial city of log-huts by the Eappa- 
 hannock. Yarney, who had been hiding behind 
 an old oak, at once followed Forrest. 
 
360 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock, 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 ARRESTED. 
 
 '^ "XTES, that is my charge, and I said lie ought 
 
 ± to be arrested. High time! Here is a 
 conceited young chap overestimating his im- 
 portance, taking on airs, though only a drummer, 
 and all the while giving aid and comfort to the 
 enemy ; taking our plans down to a cabin where 
 a Confederate officer is hiding away ! Sick, I dare 
 say, but bis cabin is just head-quarters for rebel 
 officers, who come there and take away the in- 
 formation this chap has lugged there. Yes, 
 sir ! " 
 
 As he uttered this, Yarney reached out his 
 hand and darted his long, bony fingers toward 
 Forrest, as if shooting arrows at him. 
 
 Forrest at first looked bewildered, but stand' 
 ing erect, every muscle, every nerve in a state 
 of tension, stretched himself up to his full 
 height, and indignantly shouted : 
 
 " It is false ! It is false ! " 
 
 It was an exciting scene in the tent of the of- 
 ficer of the day, before whom Forrest had been 
 
Arrested. 361 
 
 hurried after an arrest at the instigation of 
 Yarney, Any thing disturbing the monotony 
 of camp-life attracted a hirge attention, and of- 
 ficers came flocking into tliis tent. Somebody 
 else was drawn thither. He could not get any 
 farther than the door, but, bending his dark 
 face close down to its parting folds, he caught 
 every word uttered by Yarney and hurried 
 away. It was Washington, who, soon after 
 Forrest's departure, followed him to obtain a 
 larger supply of that " Union water," He took 
 the path leading down to the cabin in the hol- 
 low, running as if to put out a fire. In the 
 meantime the group in the tent, where Forrest, 
 under arrest, was confronted by Yarney, lis- 
 tened to the sutler as he stood energetically ges- 
 ticulating and emphatically renewing his charge. 
 
 Forrest w^as denying as stoutly as Yarney as- 
 serted his charge. The officer of the day, wliose 
 name was Markham, and before whom Forrest 
 had been brought, was considering the gravity 
 of the charges, and whether the evidence was 
 sufficient to hold him at all. 
 
 "I don't want to hold this drummer unless 
 there is ground for it," said the officer. " The 
 charge sounds grave, but I want more evidence. 
 What regiment do you belong to ? " 
 
 Forrest told him, and then looked about the 
 
362 Drummer-Boy of the Rcqjpahannock. 
 
 tent to see if he could detect any face lie knew. 
 He suddenly caught a motion that arrested his 
 attention. Somebody was tossing- up his head 
 while earnestly talking, giving a flat yellow 
 beard a movement like that of the throwing up 
 of a shovel. 
 
 " Why," thought Forrest, " if that isn't the 
 recruiting-oflicer. Captain Peirce ! " 
 
 Yes, it recalled the day when Forrest wished 
 to follow the flag and this recruiting-oflicer 
 stopped him on account of a wicked, baseless 
 slander. 
 
 Forrest now beckoned to the recruiting-oflicer. 
 The silent appeal was recognized, and he came 
 forward. 
 
 " Flow are you? "' he said, smiling and extend- 
 ing his hand. " I remember you now. I did 
 not, though, when I flrst saw you. It is a bad 
 scrape that sutler has got you into, but I think 
 you are innocent — " 
 
 " Of course I am ! " said Forrest, vehemently. 
 " You are a temperance man, you told nie — "" 
 
 " Yes, I am, and there is need of it, too." 
 
 "Well, at that sutler's tent, this morning, I 
 heard an officer talking with him about selling 
 liquor." 
 
 " Ah ! Indeed ! Pll make a point of that 1 " 
 
 Captain Peirce now raised his voice : 
 
Arrested. 363 
 
 "I want to say that I have met this young 
 man before, wlien he wished to enlist, and 
 somebody then — a mean scamp — charged him 
 with crime — " 
 
 " What has that got to do with this matter? " 
 squeaked Yarney, testily. " Then he is given 
 to this style of thing, is he ? " 
 
 " O, we will see ! I was remarking that this 
 drummer, Hooper, came with flying colors out 
 of that charge made against him, and every body 
 gave him a good name, i^ow, a good name is 
 worth something. Nobody seems to know any 
 thing against him now. Besides, this man who 
 makes the charges is himself under suspicion 
 of a breaking of camp-rules. I understand 
 that some officer went to see him this morning 
 about liquor-selling — " 
 
 " False ! " shouted Yarney. 
 
 Here ensued an angry discussion. The atten- 
 tion of the company was all fastened on the sut- 
 ler. Forrest began to breathe more easily. He 
 felt as if sudden liberty had been given him. 
 "While the sutler was under investigation For- 
 rest was reflecting what to do. He was looking 
 round for a friend whom he could send to 
 Griffin and get liini to report the case to the 
 colonel of his i-egiment, hoping his interference 
 would be equivalent to a release. In the mean- 
 
384 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 time the babel of which the angry, loquacious 
 Yarnej was tlie center, continued without cessa- 
 tion. The officer appeared who had charged 
 liim with the offense of liquor-selhng, and this 
 gave interest to the scene. But wliat increased 
 the excitement, though at first liushing all noise, 
 was the voice of tlie " father of liis country " 
 at the door : 
 
 "Lemme in! I tell ye, lerame in! Got 
 suthin' to tell 'em ! Don' ye see ! Leinme 
 in ! " 
 
 The guard at the door gave way, and in stag- 
 gered AVashington — bearing on his back Arthur 
 be Witt ! 
 
 The sight of the black Wasliington and the 
 appearance of the young officer in gray, a deathly 
 pallor in his face, his emaciated arms clinging 
 to Washington's neck, stilled every voice. 
 
 What to do with him, now that he had 
 brought this precious load thus far, Washing- 
 ton could not say, but looked round in perplex- 
 ity, his big eyes rolling from side to side of the 
 tent. 
 
 Forrest did not let him continue in his bewil- 
 derment. Springing forward he took Arthur 
 in his own arms and seated him gently in a 
 camp-chair that Captain Peirce courteously 
 offered. 
 
Arrested. ' 365 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said Forrest, fanning Artliur 
 with his slouching Confederate hat. " What did 
 you try to come up here for % " 
 
 "What fur?" cried Washington. " Didn't I 
 hear 'em sayin' what ye hab done in de cabin 
 'bout ' giben comfort to der en' my ? ' Ye fed de 
 hun'ry an' ye gib water to de t'irsty, but dat am 
 all! Ax massa, gen'l'mum!" he added, look- 
 ing around, not knowing whom individually to 
 address. 
 
 " Wait till he gets rested," said the officer of 
 the day, looking at Arthur. 
 
 "It is just as he says, sir," spoke up Arthur. 
 " My servant — who told me — what was going — • 
 on, and brought — me here — to testify — and he 
 has told the truth — That man " — he pointed 
 at Yarney — " would sell you all out, I believe — 
 for he has been trying to twist money out of 
 me, saying — " 
 
 "Hold!'- cried Yarney. "Give me a 
 chance ! " 
 
 " Tell all ! " said Captain Peirce to Arthur. 
 
 By degrees Arthur told his story — how he 
 came to be in the cabin ; how it was that For- 
 rest called upon him ; and that Yarney had 
 menaced him if money were not given to him. 
 Yarney all the while looked more and more 
 wrathy, mumbling unintelligibly, improving 
 
366 Drummer- Boi/ of the Rappahannock. 
 
 every oppoi'tunit}' to interject a word, yet mak- 
 ing little headway. 
 
 More and more did he seem to Forrest to be 
 just a voice — harsh, disagreeable, familiar. 
 
 "Now — now — I want a chance ! " vociferated 
 Yarney, throwing up his head proudly and an- 
 grily. He had been throwing it up repeatedly, 
 elevating abruptly that enormous beard and 
 those huge locks. Captain Peirce had been 
 watching liim. Suddenly, without a word, he 
 stopped this observation and seized that beard 
 with his left hand. A second hand he laid upon 
 the locks. Then he twitched off both beard and 
 locks, and out of his disguise came — Gilbert 
 French ! 
 
 " O — O — O ! " roared the crowd. 
 
 They laughed, they jeered, they pointed at 
 him. The confusion was indescribable. Finally 
 Captain Peirce found an opportunity to say : 
 
 " I saw the fellow's false hair slipping out of 
 place, aiid I thought I would give it all a hoist, 
 and, gentlemen, he is the same scamp that once 
 before brought abominable charges against this 
 honest young drummer. This sutler is the one 
 to be put under arrest." 
 
 Under arrest he was quickly placed, and sub- 
 sequently sent off in disgrace. Forrest was re- 
 leased amid many hearty congratulations, Cap- 
 
Arrested. 367 
 
 tain Markhani telling liiin that this disposition 
 of the case was subject to revision at head- 
 quarters, but he " guessed it would be all 
 right," and it was. Arthur was made comfort- 
 able in a hospital bed. Washington was de- 
 tailed to do camp-work, Captain Peirce taking 
 charge of him. 
 
 In the log-hut of " the twins " there was 
 much rejoicing that afternoon and evening. 
 
 " Bub," said Griffin, who had built a jolly fire 
 in the lire-place, and now flourished the frying- 
 pan, " we will have an extra supper to-night. 
 We will have hard-tack fried in pork, coffee, 
 and fritters. We ouglit to rejoice. Just think! 
 1 didn't know a bit of the trouble you were in. 
 If I had, I would have beat on the old drum 
 the call to arms, organized a rescue-party of the 
 boys, and we would have brought you back in 
 less than no time. But I was as ignorant of it 
 all as a chicken." 
 
 " Well, it is over now. All's well that ends 
 well." 
 
 "Sartin, Bub, sartin! But what do ye 'spose 
 I saw in the hut this morning after you were 
 gone ? Came in sort of sudden, and saw that — 
 Gob — Gib — Gilbert, that's it — at the head of our 
 bunk. He seemed to look uneasy, and said he 
 wanted to see you just a moment. I told him 
 24 
 
368 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 3'ou had gone out. He said he Avoiild like to 
 leave a circular — an advertising kind of some- 
 thing—" 
 
 "You don't suppose Gilbert French wanted 
 to see mj fatlier's papers ! Yes, that is what his 
 idea was," exclaimed Forrest, climbing up into 
 the bunk. 
 
 He at once examined the papers but none 
 were missing. Forrest had guessed Gilbert's 
 idea, but Griffin had come into the log-hut too 
 soon to permit that desired overhauling. 
 
 " I remember now that, when lie was just 
 plain and simple Yarnej — " 
 
 "Plain and simple — ha-ha!" cried Forrest 
 laughing. 
 
 " When he was onl^y a humble citizen, and 
 not known, as he is now, as a notorious fraud — 
 when fust he called here, and you spoke about 
 your father's papers and looked that way, to- 
 ward the head of the bunk, his eyes followed 
 quicker than a panther can go up a tree. Well, 
 if he didn't touch any thing, and is under arrest, 
 we won't worry." 
 
 Gilbert French was on a sly, stealthy hunt after 
 any paper in which Forrest Hooper's father had 
 testified that he had not been a witness to any 
 document whereby Captain Frye had signed 
 away to Gilbert French his interest in various 
 
Arrested. 369 
 
 pieces of property. Knowledge of such testi- 
 mony was in Skipper Bowser's possession. Gil- 
 bert had heard of it and was desirous to get hold 
 of any such statement. When he fraudulently 
 signed the "tramp's" name as witness, he did 
 not think this homeless wanderer would turn up 
 again. After the tramp had gone from the neigh- 
 borhood, and Cai^tain Fryc was dead, that de- 
 frauder thought he could push his iliterests as 
 audaciously as he pleased. 
 
 The supper that Griffin cooked that night for 
 '• the twins " was one of great excellence. The 
 frying-pan tilled the old log-hut with an appe- 
 tizing odor to which the coifee added its fra- 
 grance. Then " the twins " lingered after supper 
 at their rough table to discuss various matters 
 at home and in camp. Forrest finally " cleared 
 up," and evening duties wei'e in order. For- 
 rest's last duty w^as to beat the drum at "taps." 
 This was in order at nine. All over the camp 
 there would be clear, echoing bugle-calls, and 
 the drum-taps vigorously given would follow. 
 This was the signal to the soldiers to put out all 
 lights, to hush all talk and every other sound, 
 and to be sure to be under their own roof. 
 
 Forrest was on hand at the appointed time. 
 It was a dark night, but the sky had been swept 
 clear of clouds by the energetic broom of the 
 
370 Drummer- Boy of the Rcippahannock. 
 
 winds, and the bright stars shone peacefully 
 down. 
 
 Hark ! Hear the bugle-calls echoing far into 
 the night ! Then came Forrest's sharp, prompt 
 tap-tap-tap on the old annj drum. ' The lights 
 ceased to glow in the soldiers' quarters. Song 
 and jest were hushed. Forrest stopped a mo- 
 ment to look about him, and tried to realize that 
 lie was a driimmer-boj down by the Rappa- 
 hannock. Then he looked up and watched the 
 stars. How the heavens beckoned, as with many 
 • fingers of gold ! 
 
 And God seemed so nigh ! He had come 
 near Forrest in blessing that day. Was he not 
 always near? Would he not send peace after 
 every storm ? Would he not make all things 
 work together for good to them that loved him ? 
 
 Yes, God would do all this. Only Forrest 
 wanted in his heart to love him more and trust 
 him more, and obey as well as trust. 
 
 Then Forrest stole away to a log-hut and 
 silently crept into the quarters of "the twins." 
 
A Hunt in the Old Distillery. 371 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 A HUNT IN THE OLD DISTILLERY". 
 
 SKIPPER BOWSER'S neighbor, George, 
 the colored iiian, bustled into the house one 
 twilight and asked his wife a question. 
 
 '' Li-za}' , who do you 'spose I saw flyin' down 
 the road, lookin' like the ebil one himself?" 
 
 " Don' use that 'parison. What do you know, 
 honey, 'bout de ebil one? I hopes you ain't 
 much kwaiutcd wid him. Tell me who it was, 
 honey, and leave out sich iiggers." 
 
 Eliza's eyes rolled round like moons struggling 
 out of a white cloud. 
 
 " Gilbert French, Li-zay ! - He had his double 
 span hitched on to his light buggy, an' he went 
 down de road as though a 'spress train was 'hind 
 'em. He no more noticed me dan if I had been 
 one ob de baksets I was carryin'. His hair was 
 a streamin', Li-zay," said George, workin' on her 
 susceptible nature, "au' his eyes stickin' out, 
 an'—" 
 
 " Fire comin' out ob 'em \ " 
 
 "Ob course not, chile. He wa'n't de ebil 
 
372 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 one. You must be more circumspections in yer 
 ideas. He jest whooped along in dat double 
 team till he was clean gone out ob sight." 
 
 " Dey say he's had an orf ul time out in de 
 army." 
 
 "Skipper Bowser say de 'ossifers' are after 
 him." 
 
 Yes, officers of justice were after Gilbert 
 French, and he knew it, Gilbert French's 
 course in wrong was like some other criminal 
 careers. At first, there was a compromise with 
 his conscience. The money that a neighbor 
 had trusted to him for safe keeping, stolen in 
 fact, was not stolen in so many words. " I will 
 borrow this," he said, " and replace it." There 
 followed a number of such compromises with 
 his conscience. The money was never put back, 
 though. After awhile, as he escaped detection, 
 there was no such compromise even in words. 
 He was bolder. The purpose to grasp money 
 strengthened. The intention to return it died 
 out. His soul became a place where a mob of 
 passions rioted. Out of this tumult two prom- 
 inent figures rose up. One was Nanny Frye, 
 the other Forrest Hooper. Gilbert's feelings 
 toward Nanny changed from love — if he ever 
 had any — to revenge. If Nanny had favored 
 his suit, there certainlv would liave been no 
 
A HiDit in the Old Distillery. 373 
 
 difficulty about Captain Frye's property, lie 
 tlioiiglit. Nanny would have been in his power, 
 and he could have driven on as he pleased. As 
 for Forrest, he was one who unconsciously had 
 been continually standing in Gilbert's path. 
 Gilbert knew that it was he who had preoccu- 
 pied ]^anny's affection. It was Forrest who, 
 shignlarly, had been the occasion of the present 
 flight. He had sent home word that Gilbert's 
 duties in the army had been disgracefully ter- 
 minated, and also that, having been at last re- 
 leased from confinement, he was probably on 
 his way to his old surroundings. This letter 
 Skipper Bowser showed to a lawyer who very 
 much wanted to see Gilbert on account of 
 various fraudulent transactions, and he em- 
 ployed two detectives to follow Gilbert, when 
 he arrived, and then arrest him. They had 
 failed to do the latter, for they did not get to 
 the train quite in season to detain him. 
 Through his clerk, Fickard, Gilbert heard after- 
 ward of their purpose, and he. resolved to leave 
 liome again and flee to Canada. He was riding 
 along on his way to the station when he saw 
 the two detectives of whom he had been in- 
 formed. He allowed them to pass, then turned 
 into a side street, jumped out, and left his team 
 in charge of a stable-boy riding with him to 
 
374 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 bring the team lioiue. The officers had spied him, 
 though, and quickly turned into this street — 
 in season to see him alighting from the carriage 
 and slipping down a dij-ty lane tiuit led to the 
 old distillery in which Gilbert had once been 
 interested. 
 
 '• There he is, Billings ! " said one of the offi- 
 cers, by name Taintor. " He has seen us, I 
 think." 
 
 " No doubt of it. He is crouching by the 
 fence." 
 
 "Let's go on cautiously. You drop behind 
 me." 
 
 The fugitive who was crouching by the fence 
 concluded to drop also, and disappeared. 
 
 " Put, Taintor ! put ! He has got into the old 
 distillery. Follow him hard ! " 
 
 The men started on a vigorous run. It was 
 an ugly building any time, but it looked exceed- 
 ingly ugly that twilight, a dismal rain shrouding 
 it. Gilbert Frencli's business career in it had 
 been a failure. It was nigh a ruin when he 
 tried to run it. It was now closed. Once a John 
 Quint had tried to use a portion of it as a stable. 
 This last word upon the sign had been washed 
 by so many rains tliat it was much the worse 
 for the washing, and there it stared at you from 
 the wall of the old distillery— that word " Stab." 
 
A Hunt ill the Old Distillery. 375 
 
 It was singularly appropriate to the original 
 mission of the building, that had inflicted death 
 on the hopes of so many men and women. 
 The fres were now in the cracked and rustj 
 furnaces, the roof dropping, and the windows 
 smashed in. A passer-by might have seen the 
 eyes of a rat at soine neglected window, an- 
 nouncing who it was that now tenanted the 
 building but paid no rent. A i-ain had been 
 falling all day, and the water, splashing dismally 
 from the rotting eaves, had gathered in black 
 pools by the walls. Two of the town-police 
 sauntered by, and Taintor secured their help in 
 the search they were about to make. They 
 
 gained access to the premises in the same way 
 as the man they were pursuing, one after the 
 
 other dropping and crawling under the fence 
 
 dog-fashion. 
 
 '' He sneaked in that way," said Taintor. 
 
 He pointed at a window that had been boarded 
 
 np, but one board had been pulled aside, and, 
 
 catching by one end, hung helplessly down. 
 " We will patrol round the building outside, 
 
 in case you staj-t up any rats or other vermin, 
 
 and drive them," said one of the towm-police. 
 "All right," replied Taintor, and he squeezed 
 
 through the black window-hole, followed by his 
 
 companion. 
 
376 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock, 
 
 " Dark ! " said Taintor, looking round, " and 
 the holes in them boarded windows stare at jou 
 like eyes. Can you see ? " 
 
 " Hardly." 
 
 " We ought to have a lantern." 
 
 " I will get one." 
 
 " All right," answered Taintor. " I will stay 
 by while you bring one." 
 
 It was soon brought, and the search began in 
 earnest. They went round the vats, the furnaces, 
 the grain-bins, and they saw the stills, coiled, 
 snake-like, for a murderous spring. Taintor 
 stopped, 
 
 " What's that noise ? " 
 
 " E-ats overhead." 
 
 " ISTo, it wasn't. A noise upstairs, and — 
 that scamp has gone up to the next story ! 
 There is a flight of stairs over in this corner. 
 Here, this way. Come along ! " 
 
 And Taintor led the way up a flight of stairs 
 that remonstrated and creaked at every step. 
 
 " Softly as you can, Billings. Bah, what is 
 that ? You brute ! It was a rat I almost grabbed." 
 
 "Rat? Quick! There is something else we 
 almost grabbed. There he goes !" 
 
 They saw a form darting up a second flight of 
 stairs, ahead of them, into a loft above. 
 
 " Good ! Nothing over him but the roof now, 
 
A Hunt in the Old Distillery. 377 
 
 and see, lie is going through it. Look out, there 
 below ! " shouted Taintor, going to a window, and 
 calling to the men beneath. 
 
 " Ay, ay," came the sharp, emphatic response. 
 
 The pursued had now reached a scuttle in 
 the roof. One moment his face halted there, 
 haggard, bare of covering, the eyes glaring, the 
 side-whiskers sharp and pointed, the nose thin 
 and long, and it was no wonder one of the 
 police below sang out, " Rat up there at the 
 scuttle ! " 
 
 The rat did not halt there long. He sjDrang out 
 upon the roof and slid down to the eaves, drop- 
 ping thence by an easy fall to the roof of a build- 
 ing closely joining it. He very well knew there 
 was another roof of a lower building to which 
 he could drop if necessary. In the place of the 
 rat's face at the scuttle in the roof, Taintor's 
 round, red visage now appeared. He hesitated 
 one moment, giving one look up to the dark, 
 dripping clouds, another down at the shining, 
 slipper}'- roof, and then out he sprang, sliding 
 down to the eaves, and finally dropping on the 
 roof below. 
 
 " There he goes!" shouted one of those watch- 
 ing beneath, 5.nd Taintor saw his man hanging 
 over the gutter of the building, then dropping 
 down to the next roof. In a few moments Taintor 
 
378 Drarmnuv-Boij of the Rappahannock. 
 
 was also on this second roof i he next drop would 
 be twenty feet down to the hard, beaten yard, 
 ngly flag-stones here and there protruding. 
 Would the fugitive make that drop? Taiutor 
 wondered if he would do it, and, advancing 
 toward him, was about to say, " My prisoner ! " 
 when over the eaves went his man, falling heavily 
 to the yard below. A shout came from several 
 spectators, who had gathered outside the yard 
 and were looking through the gashes in the 
 fence. Its echo \vas a cry of horror from one 
 of the town-police, who ran to pick the body up 
 and now bent over it. 
 
 " Gone ! " he cried. 
 
 " Gone? " asked Taintor from the roof. 
 
 " Yes, I think he must have broken his neck. 
 Made a serious mistake then." 
 
 " Well, I am sorry for a man that will do as 
 he has done. It's the last of Gilbert French 
 here. Can't mend this ! " 
 
Swishine. 379 
 
 CHAPTER XXIIL 
 
 SUNSHINE. 
 
 IT was a bright autumn day. The scenery was 
 glorious. It seemed as if the sun had deco- 
 rated witli triumphal colors all the liarvest 
 land. Kanny Frye was looking down from her 
 chamber-window npon a nook in the walls of 
 tlie old home that, years ago, when a certain 
 "house-keeper" presided over Captain Frj^e's 
 houseliold, had been given up to old cans, broken 
 crockery, cobwebs, dampness, and mildew. 
 
 " May I have that for my dominion ? " IS^annj 
 said one day to lier father. 
 
 He smiled and replied, "Yes, for your em- 
 pire." 
 
 Slie directed tlie rubbish to be removed, 
 routed any weeds there ; and then the soil was 
 turned up and given over to tlie scepter of 
 the balsams, petunias, nasturtiums, mignonette, 
 sweet-alyssum, and marigolds. A company of 
 morning-glory climbers started from the ground 
 to scale the walls and reach the windows of 
 Nanny's room. The instinct to climb had been 
 
380 Drummer-Boy of the Rappahannock. 
 
 rewarded at last, for tendril after tendril reached 
 the window-sills, and there swung out their blos- 
 soms, as if regarding Nanny's retreat as a belf rj- 
 tower that would be incomplete without a chime 
 of their graceful bells. 
 
 Nanny was singing, this autumn morning. 
 Her voice was soft and low, and musical as ever. 
 
 Skipper Bowser would say, " If you were 
 standin' under an apple-tree and you heard that 
 voice, you'd think a robin was thar, buildin' its 
 nest in the boughs." 
 
 This morning Nanny was dressed in a trim, 
 tidy calico, wore spotless cnffs and collar, and at 
 her neck was a spray of salvia, its scarlet con- 
 trasting pleasantly with the white and blue of 
 the calico. Above all was the sweet, trusty face 
 of the olden days. 
 
 She stopped amid her singing to look at two 
 letters. One of these Skipper Bowser had jnst 
 brought froui the mail, it was from Belle De 
 Witt, and told her that Arthur De Witt was 
 at her grandmother's ; that it had taken until 
 autumn to bring him back to health again, and, 
 she was glad to add, to his grandmother's" home. 
 Washington, the faithful, had come with Arthur. 
 
 The other letter arrived a few days ago, and 
 had been often read by Nanny. It came from 
 the Army of the Potomac, and was in Forrest's 
 
Sunshine. 381 
 
 handwriting. He was still in the di-uin-corps 
 of his regiment, though Griffin had gone into 
 the ranks to carry a gun, and Forrest wanted 
 to follow him. Forrest had run those awful 
 gauntlets of shot and shell, namely, Chancellors- 
 ville, the second Bull Run, and Gettysburg, and 
 — and — it is true he had got a little "scratch," 
 in a late skirmish, but he had had a dream, and 
 thought he saw Nanny as a hospital-nurse bend- 
 ing over him, and he felt better. " I thought 
 you had wings," he wrote. 
 
 Then Nanny laughed, her voice trilling mu- 
 sically like Skipper Bowser's robin up in the 
 apple-boughs. 
 
 " Wings are not found on hospital-nurses yet," 
 said Nanny. 
 
 Then Nanny sighed, and said, "O dear! 
 Poor fellow ! 1 wish he was at home. Now 
 for churcli ! The minister wants special services 
 for our country, to-day." 
 
 She called out " Good-by ! " to Aunt Iluldah 
 who was in her room sittinar in her rockin2;-chair. 
 
 "'Good-by, dear!" said Aunt Huldah. 
 
 Aunt Huldah was much better nowadays. 
 
 Nanny had those needed qualities of nurse- 
 hood — judgment, tact, sympathy. She was an 
 excellent companion, too, free from all intrusive- 
 ness and yet never deserting her trust, making 
 
882 Drummer- Boy of tJie llappahannock. 
 
 her p eseiice felt but never making it oppres- 
 sive. Sometimes she and Aunt Huldali had 
 been badgered by the want of Hte's comforts. 
 How to Hve — simply that we may keep body 
 and soul together, may have bread to eat and 
 water to drink — perhaps a cup of tea or coffee 
 — may liave our new clothes once or twice a 
 year, may have shingles above us and a bed 
 nnder us at night — all this may threaten to turn 
 life into serfdom. Xanny and Aunt Huldali 
 had known days of worriment, for Gilbert 
 French's dealings had sometimes made I^anny 
 feel very poor. 
 
 Homeless, houseless, almost friendless, as it 
 seemed to her, she went to her heavenly Father, 
 in whom we have houses and lands, home and 
 friends, and she had found a wealth of blessing 
 just there. Better days had come. 
 
 Gilbert French had not disposed of the Frye 
 property he had worried out of Nanny with his 
 fraudulent documents, and after his death it 
 came into Nanny's liands again, and with the 
 income of the shop and the lands Nanny and 
 Aunt Huldali had been helped to a greater meas- 
 ure of household comfort. 
 
 Forrest's pay Nanny would not touch, but laid 
 it away for him in the bank. 
 
 She now left the house, and started for church. 
 
Sunshine. 383 
 
 "I am to be organist to-day," she reflected, 
 " and must be there early." 
 
 She was thinking about Forrest; about the 
 wound which he modestly had called a " little 
 sciratch," and Nanny was sad. Those bright 
 shades of the landscape, were they triumphal 
 colors? Had a victory been won over that old 
 dragon — slavery ? 
 
 The war in the land went on, and slavery 
 might be hurt, but it was not dead. The dragon 
 was still strong. The red on the trees, was it 
 blood from the awful conflict ? Why must 
 there be such trials? Could no joy sing its 
 psalm without a oniserer^e echoing somewhere? 
 If we go up to a mountain-top of triumph, must 
 we also descend into the darkness of sorest trial? 
 
 She remembered what Storrs has said : " There 
 were but three disciples allowed to see the trans- 
 figuration, and those three entered the gloom of 
 Gethsemane." 
 
 Thoughtfully entering the restful little church 
 she sat down at the organ, for she was to play. 
 
 Soon after Nanny had gone into the church 
 
 somebody came down the road on crutches. 
 
 He was a soldier. The army blue was about 
 
 him. He halted opposite the church-porch 
 
 draped with its ivy, looked in, and then entered. 
 
 He evidently entered also into the spirit of the 
 25 
 
384 Drummer-Boy of the Rappuhannock. 
 
 services — tlie prayers for the conutrj and the ser- 
 mon preached ; for there were tears on his cheeks 
 at times, and then again his handsome face shone 
 witli joy. When the congregation had been 
 dismissed he quickly left and went round to the 
 minister's room, and then passed into a little 
 recess where was wont to stand the person that 
 blew the organ. To-day Skipper Bowser was 
 performing at that end of the organ. The skip- 
 per as the so-calltid " blow-boy " had one fault ; 
 he would go to sleep 1 
 
 "Will you, Uncle Jerry — could you blow for 
 me to-day % " Nanny had said. 
 
 " Sartin ; and I won't go to sleep.'* 
 
 In one of two chairs in the little recess 
 l^anny had left a package of books, and with 
 them an unsealed letter, directed to Forrest 
 Hooper. She also left the skipper there, but 
 when the blue-.coated soldier reached the side 
 of the organ he induced the skipper to let him 
 take the bellows-handle. 
 
 " I can sit down and lean my crutcii against the 
 wall. Good-by, I'll see you again 1" he said. 
 
 Nanny played on. 
 
 The minister had gone. 
 
 Still she played. 
 
 All the congregation had gone. 
 
 She played on. 
 
Sunshine. 385 
 
 "Skipper Bowser will blow for me a little 
 while longer, I know," reasoned Nanny. "I 
 like to be alone, and I feel like playing." 
 
 All of a sudden, though, the strain on the 
 organ ended in a miserable squeak — k-k-k ! It 
 was such a doleful expiring gasp ! 
 
 " O dear ! " thought lS"anny, " the skipper has 
 gone to sleep ! I jjlayed too long ! Wonder 
 how he will look asleep, his hands on the handle, 
 and his head bobbing! Let ine look ! " 
 
 Peeping round the corner of the organ she saw 
 a pair of crutches leaning against the wall ! She 
 was frightened, yet could but look again, and 
 there was the organ-blower, in the shape of the 
 young soldier, reading the letter addressed to 
 Forrest Hooper, and kissing it ! 
 
 " O Forrest ! " she screamed. 
 
 " Xanny, I^anny, dear ! I saw this letter for 
 me, and knew you w^anted me to read it." 
 
 She forgave him,, and home they went side 
 by side, he leaning on his crutches, slowly walk- 
 ing, the sun shining on them. They passed the 
 quiet church-yard, where Forrest told her he 
 meant that his father's body should be brought 
 home to lie. They entered the woods, whose 
 green beauty made an arch for the road. Ere 
 the travelers reached the Frye home they met a 
 happy welcoming group : George, Ehza, Miranda 
 
386 Drummer- Boy of the Rappahannock, 
 
 Bowser, and the skipper — waving an Ainericaji 
 flag — crying and laughing "jest like a boy,'* 
 Miranda said. At the old house Aunt Huldah 
 greeted the drummer. 
 
 Then Forrest would go up the Lion. Under 
 that autumn sun, still glowing, he and Nanny, 
 side by side, slowly walked up the hill. And 
 now, looking ahead, I seem to see them still 
 walking side by side in the bright autumn 
 sunshine. When Forrest's furlough was out 
 he went back to the war, to throw away his 
 crutches and swing a rifle over his shoulder. 
 When the war was over he came back, a lieuten- 
 ant's straps on his shoulders. He returned 
 home to walk by ISTanny's side in the golden 
 sunshine of a mutual trust, one day declaring 
 itself in a happy marriage in the old Frye 
 home. Into the future they went, still walking 
 in the bright sunshine, doing God's will, taking 
 sides for the right, under his triumphant banner. 
 
iel<?et(^c 
 
 RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 f ^ 
 
 HUNT & EATOI 
 
 150 Fifth Ave., New ^ 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 894 
 
 AU for Christ. B 
 American Methodic 
 
 Illustrated. 12mo, 
 
 An Account of Christian Perfection. By John 
 Wesley. 24mo, 
 
 Annals of the Poor. Containing Dairyman's 
 
 terg, Young Cottager, Xegro Servant, Cottage Con- 
 A'ersation, Visit to the Infirmary, and African Widow 
 By Legh Richmond. 18mo, .... 
 
 Apology for the Bible. By Bishop Watson. 18mo. 
 
 Appeal to Matter of Fact and Common Sense 
 By Rev. J. Fletcher. 18mo, .... 
 
 Atheist Shoemaker. By Hugh Price Hughes. 16mo, 
 
 Atonement in Christ. By Rev. John Miley. 12mo, 
 
 At the Threshold. Familiar Talks with Young Chris 
 tians. 12mo,