The Guns of Bull Run: A Story of the Civil War's Eve, Joseph A. Altsheler [best book series to read txt] 📗

coin with a pow'ful sight o' respeck. But if I take it I'm makin' three dollars. Them clothes o' mine jest cost seven dollars an' I've wore 'em four times."

"Count the three dollars in for shelter and gratitude and remember, you've made your promise."

Perkins took the coin, bit it, pitched it up two or three times, catching it as it fell, and then put it upon the hearth, where the blaze could gleam upon it.

"It's shorely a shiner," he said, "an' bein' that it's the first I've ever had, I reckon I'll take good care of it. Wait a minute."

He picked up the coin again, ran up the ladder into the dark eaves of the house, and came back without it.

"Now, Johnny Reb," he said, "put on my clothes and see how you feel."

Harry donned the uncouth garb, which fitted fairly well after he had rolled up the trousers a little.

"You'd pass for a farmer," said Perkins. "I fed your hoss when I put him up, an' as soon as the rain's over you kin start ag'in, a sight safer than you wuz when you wore that uniform. Ef you come back this way ag'in I'll give it to you. Now, you'd better take a nap. I'll call you when the rain stops."

Harry felt that he had indeed fallen into the hands of a friend, and stretching himself on a pallet which the charcoal burner spread in front of the fire, he soon fell asleep. He awoke when Perkins shook his shoulder and found that it was dawn.

"The rain's stopped, day's come an' I guess you'd better be goin'" said the man. "I've got breakfast ready for you, an' I hope, boy, that you'll get through with a whole skin. I said that both sides would have to fight this war without my help, but I don't mind givin' a boy a hand when he needs it."

Harry did not say much, but he was deeply grateful. After breakfast he mounted his horse, received careful directions from Perkins and rode toward Washington. The whole forest was fresh and green after its heavy bath, and birds, rejoicing in the morning, sang in every bush. Harry's elation returned. Clothes impart a certain quality, and, dressed in a charcoal burner's Sunday best, he began to bear himself like one. He rode in a slouchy manner, and he transferred the pistols from his belt to the large inside pockets of his new coat. As he passed in an hour from the forest into a rolling open country, he saw that Perkins had advised him wisely. Dressed in the Confederate uniform he would certainly have had trouble before he made the first mile.

He saw the camps of troops both to right and left and he knew that these were the flank of the Northern army. Then from the crest of another hill he caught his second view of Washington. The gleam from the dome of the Capitol was much more vivid now, and he saw other white buildings amid the foliage. Since he had become technically a spy through the mere force of circumstances, Harry took a daring resolve. He would enter Washington itself. They were all one people, Yanks and Johnny Rebs, and no one could possibly know that he was from the Southern army. Only one question bothered him. He did not know what to do with the horse.

But he rode briskly ahead, trusting that the problem of the horse would solve itself, and, as he turned a field, several men in blue uniforms rode forward and ordered him to halt. Harry obeyed promptly.

"Where are you going?" asked the leading man, a minor officer.

"To Washin'ton," replied the boy in the uncouth language that he thought fitted his role.

"And what are you going to Washington for?"

"To sell this hoss," replied Harry, on the impulse of the moment. "I raised him myself, but he's too fine fur me to ride, specially when hosses are bringin' sech good prices."

"He is a fine animal," said the officer, looking at him longingly. "Do you want to sell him now?"

Harry shook his head.

"No," he replied. "I'm goin' to make one o' them big bugs in Washin'ton pay fur him an' pay fur him good."

The officer laughed.

"You're not such a simpleton as you look," he said. "You're right. They'll pay you more for him in the capital than I could. Ride on. They may pass you over Long Bridge or they may not. That part of it is not my business."

Harry went forward at a trot, glad enough to leave such dangerous company behind. But he saw that he was now in the very thick of mighty risks. He would encounter a menace at every turn. Had he realized fully the character of his undertaking when he was in the charcoal burner's hut he would have hesitated long. Now, there was nothing to do but go ahead and take his fate, whatever it might be.

Yet his tale of wishing to sell a horse served him well. After a few questions, it passed him by a half dozen interruptions, and he became so bold that he stopped and bought food for his noon-day meal at a little wayside tavern kept by a woman. Three or four countrymen were lounging about and all of them were gossips. But Harry found it worth while to listen to their gossip. It was their business to carry vegetables and other provisions into Washington for sale and they picked up much news. They said that the Northern government was pushing all its troops to the front. All the politicians and writers in Washington were clamoring for a battle. One blow and "Jeff Davis and Secession" would be smashed to atoms. Harry's young blood flamed at the contemptuous words, but he could not afford to show any resentment. Yet this was valuable information. He could confirm Beauregard's belief that an attack would soon be made in great force.

When Harry left them he turned again to the left, as he saw a stretch of country rolling and apparently wooded lying in that direction. Once, when a young boy, he had come to Washington with his father for a stay of several weeks, and he had a fair acquaintance with the region about the capital. He knew that forested hills lay ahead of him and beyond them the Potomac.

In another hour he was in the hills, which he found without people. Through every opening in the leaves he saw Washington and he could also discern long lines of redoubts on the Virginia side of the river.

Late in the afternoon he came to a small, abandoned log cabin. He inferred that its owner had moved away because of the war. As nearly as he could judge it had not been occupied for several weeks. Back of it was a small meadow enclosed with a rail fence, but everything else was deep woods. He turned his horse into the meadow and left his saddle, bridle and saddle blanket in the house. He might not find anything when he returned, but he must take the risk.

Then he set off at a brisk pace through the woods, which opened out a little after dusk, and disclosed a great pillared white house, with surrounding outbuildings. He knew at once that this was Arlington, the home of one of the Southern generals, Lee, of whom he had heard his father speak well.

But he also saw, despite the dusk, blue uniforms and the gleam of bayonets. And as he looked he saw, too, earthworks and the signs that many men were present. He lay long among the bushes until the night thickened and darkened and he resolved to inspect the earthworks thoroughly. No very strict watch seemed to be kept, and, in truth, it did not seem to be needed here so near to Washington, and so far away from the Southern army.

Before ten o'clock everything settled into quiet, and he cautiously climbed a great beech which was in full and deep foliage. The boughs were so many and the leaves so dense that one standing directly under him could not have seen him. But he went up as far as he could go, and, crouched there, made a comprehensive survey.

It was a fine moonlight night and he saw the earthworks stretching for a long distance, thorough and impregnable to anything except a great army. Beyond that was a silver band which was the Potomac, and beyond the river were the clustered roofs which were Washington. But he turned his eyes back to the earthworks, and he tried to fasten firmly in his mind their number and location. This, too, would be important news, most welcome to Beauregard.

The boy's elation grew. They had given him a delicate and dangerous task, but he was doing it. He had overcome every obstacle so far, and he would overcome them to the end. He was bound to enter that Washington which, in the distance, seemed to lie in such a close cluster.

He felt that he had lingered long enough at Arlington, and, descending, he made a great curve around the earthworks, coming to the river north of Arlington. His next problem was the passage of the Potomac. He did not dare to try Long Bridge, which he knew would be guarded strictly, but he thought he might find some boatman who would take him over. As the capital was so crowded, the farmers were continually crossing with loads of provisions, and now that an uncommonly hot July had come the night would be a favorite time for the passage.

A search up and down the bank brought its reward. A Virginian, who said his name was Grimes, had a heavy boat filled with vegetables, and Harry was welcome as a helper.

"It's a dollar for you," said Grimes, who did not trouble to ask the boy his name, "an' here are your oars."

The two, pulling strongly, shot the boat out into the stream, and then rowed in a diagonal line for the city, which rose up brilliant and great in the moonlight. Other boats were in the river, but they paid no attention to the barge, loaded with produce, and rowed by two innocent countrymen. They soon reached the Washington shore, and Grimes handed Harry a silver dollar.

"You're a strong young fellow," he said, "an' I guess you've earned the money. My farm is only four miles up the river an' thar's goin' to be a big market for all I kin raise. I need a good han' to help me work it. How'd you like to come with me an' take a good job, while them that don't know no better go ahead an' do the fightin'?"

"Thank you for your offer," replied Harry, "but I've got business to attend to in Washington."

He slipped the dollar into his pocket, because he had earned it honestly, and entered Washington, just as the rising sun began to gild domes and roofs. Coming from the boat, his appearance aroused no suspicion. People were pouring into Washington then as they were pouring into the Confederate capital at Richmond. One dressed as he, and looking as he, could enter or depart almost as he pleased, despite the ring of fortifications.

Up went the sun, and the full day came, extremely hot and clear. Harry turned into a little restaurant, and spent half of his well-earned dollar for breakfast. Neither proprietor nor waiter gave him more than a casual glance. Evidently they were used to serving countrymen. Harry, feeling refreshed and strong again, paid for his food and went outside.

The streets were thronged. He had expected nothing else, but there was a great air of excitement and expectancy as if something important were going to happen.

"What is it?" asked Harry of a man beside him.

"Don't you know what day this is?" asked the man.

"I've forgot," replied the boy in the slouchy speech and intonation of the hills. "I jest came in with dad this mornin', bringin' a wagon load of fresh vegetables."

"You look as foolish as you talk," said the man scornfully. "This is the Fourth of July, and the special session of Congress called by President Lincoln is to meet this morning and decide how to give the rebels the thrashing they need."

"I did hear somethin' about that," replied Harry, "but workin' in the field I furgot all about it. I 'low I'll stroll that way."

He