General Nelson's Scout 24

General Nelson's Scout 24

"Listen to my story, Fred, and then despise me as a murderer if you

will. You saw how Captain Bascom treated me. No slave was ever treated

worse. My mother is a widow, residing in Tazewell county, Virginia. I am

an only son, but I have two lovely sisters. I was always headstrong,

liking my own way. Of course, I was humored and petted. When the war

broke out I was determined to enlist. My mother and sisters wept and

prayed, and at last I promised to wait. But about two months ago I was

down at Abingdon, and was asked to take a glass of wine. I think it was

drugged, for when I came to myself I found that I was an enlisted

soldier. Worse than all, I found that this man Bascom was an officer in

the company to which I belonged. Bascom is a low-lived, drunken brute.

He used to live in our neighborhood. Mother had him arrested for theft

and sent to jail. When he got out, he left the neighborhood, but swore

he would have revenge on every one of the name. He surely has had it on

me. I think he was in hopes that by brutal treatment he could make me

desert, so he could have me shot if captured. When he struck me the

other day, when I spoke to you, I resolved then and there to kill him."

 

"I know," replied Fred, in a low tone. "I saw it in your face."

 

"God only knows what I have suffered from the hands of that man during

the last two months. I have had provocation enough to kill him a

thousand times."

 

"I know, I know," replied Fred; "but to kill him in his sleep. I would

not have blamed you if you had shot him down when he gave you that blow.

I should have done so."

 

"It would have been best," sobbed Ferror, for the first time giving way

to his feelings. "Oh, mother, what will you think of your boy!" Then he

said, chokingly: "Fred, don't desert me, don't despise me; I can't bear

it. I believe if you turn from me now, I shall become one of the most

desperate of criminals."

 

"No, Ferror," said Fred; "I will neither desert nor judge you. You have

done something I had rather lose my life than do. But for the present

our fortunes are linked together. If we are captured, both will suffer

an ignominious death. Therefore, much as I abhor your act, I cannot

divorce myself from the consequences. Then let us resolve, come what

may, we will never be taken alive."

 

Ferror grasped Fred's hand, and pressing it fervently, replied: "If we

are captured, it will only be my dead body which will be taken, even if

I have to send a bullet through my own heart."

 

After this the boys said little, and silently waited for the light.

With the first gleam of the morning, they started on their way, thinking

only of getting as far as possible from the scene of that night of

horror.

 

As the sun arose, the mountains and then the valleys were flooded with

its golden light. At any other time the glorious landscape spread out

before them would have filled Fred's soul with delight; but as it was,

he only eagerly scanned the road which ran through the valley, hoping to

catch sight of Nelson's advancing columns. But no such sight greeted

him.

 

"They will surely come before long," said Fred. "By ten o'clock we

should be inside of the Federal lines and safe."

 

But if Fred had heard what was passing in the Rebel camp he would not

have been so sanguine.

 

Lieutenant Davis, officer of the guard, and Colonel Williams were in

close consultation.

 

"Colonel," said the lieutenant, "I do not believe the Yankees are

pursuing us. Those boys will take it for granted that we will continue

our retreat, and will soon come down off the mountains into the road.

Let me take a couple of companies of cavalry, and I will station men in

ambush along the road as far back as it is safe to go. In this way I

believe we stand a chance to catch them."

 

The colonel consented, and, therefore, before the sun had lighted up the

valley, pickets had been placed along the road for several miles back.

 

The boys trailed along the mountain side until nearly noon, but the

sides of the mountain were so seamed and gashed they made slow progress.

Gaining a high point, they looked towards Piketon, and in the far

distance saw an advancing column of cavalry. The sight filled them with

delight.

 

"There is nothing to be seen to the south," said Fred. "I think we can

descend to the road in safety." So they cautiously made their way down

to the road.

 

"Let us look well to our arms," said Fred. "We must be prepared for any

emergency."

 

So their revolvers were carefully examined, fresh caps put in, and every

precaution taken. They came out on the road close to a little valley

farm. In front of the cabin stood a couple of horses hitched. After

carefully looking at the horses, Ferror said: "Fred, one of those horses

belongs to Lieutenant Davis. He has ridden back to see if he could not

catch sight of us. Nelson's men will soon send him back flying."

 

Then a wild idea took possession of the boys. It was no less than to try

and get possession of the horses. Wouldn't it be grand to enter the

Federal lines in triumph, riding the horses of their would-be captors!

Without stopping to think of the danger, they at once acted on the idea.

 

From the cabin came sounds of laughter mingled with the music of women's

voices. The men inside were being pleasantly entertained.

 

Getting near the horses, the boys made a dash, were on their backs in a

twinkling, and with a yell of triumph were away. The astonished

officers rushed to the door, only to see them disappear down the road.

Then they raged like madmen, cursing their fortunes, and calling down

all sorts of anathemas on the boys.

 

"Never mind," at last said Sergeant Jones, who was the lieutenant's

companion in misfortune, "the squad down the road will catch them."

 

"Poor consolation for the disgrace of having our horses stolen," snapped

the lieutenant.

 

The elation of the boys came to a sudden ending. In the road ahead of

them stood a squad of four horsemen. Involuntarily the boys checked the

speed of their horses. They looked into each other's faces, they read

each other's thoughts.

 

"It can only be death," said Fred.

 

"It can only be death," echoed Ferror, "and I welcome it. I know, Fred,

you look on me as a murderer. I want to show you how I can die in a fair

fight."

 

Fred hardly realized what Ferror was saying; he was debating a plan of

attack.

 

"Ferror," he said, "let us ride leisurely forward until we get within

about fifty yards of them. No doubt they know the horses, and will be

nonplused as to who we are. When we are close we will charge. It will be

all over in a moment--safety or death."

 

Ferror nodded. He was as pale as his victims of the night before, but

his eyes blazed, his teeth were set hard, every muscle was strained.

 

Just as Fred turned to say, "Now!" Ferror shouted, "Good-bye, Fred,"

and dashed straight for the horsemen. The movement was so sudden it left

Fred slightly behind. The revolvers of the four Confederates blazed, but

like a thunderbolt Ferror was on them. The first man and horse went down

like a tenpin before the ball of the bowler; the second, and boy and man

and both horses went down in an indistinguishable mass together.

 

As for Fred, not for a second did he lose command of himself or his

horse. He saw what was coming, and swerved to the right. Here a single

Confederate confronted him. This man's attention had been attracted for

a moment to the fate of his comrades in the road, and before he knew it

Fred was on him. He raised his smoking revolver to fire, but Fred's

revolver spoke first, and the soldier reeled and fell from his saddle.

 

The road was now open for Fred to escape, but he wheeled his horse and

rode back to see what had become of his comrade. One Confederate still

sat on his horse unhurt. Seeing Fred, he raised his pistol and fired.

Fred felt his left arm grow numb, and then a sensation like that of hot

water running down the limb. Before the soldier could fire the second

time, a ball from Fred's pistol crashed through his brain, and he fell,

an inert mass, in the road. The fight was over.

 

Of the two Confederates overthrown in the wild charge of Ferror, one was

dead, the other was untouched by bullets, but lay groaning with a

broken leg and arm. Fred turned his attention to Ferror. He lay partly

under his horse, his eyes closed, his bosom stained with blood.

 

Fred raised his head. "Ferror! Ferror!" he cried, with burning tears.

 

[Illustration: Fred raised his Head, "Ferror! Ferror!" he cried.]

 

The boy opened his eyes and smiled. "It's all right, Fred--all right,"

he gasped. "That was no murder--that was a fair fight, wasn't it?"

 

"Oh, Ferror! Ferror!" moaned Fred. "You must not die."

 

"It is better as it is, Fred. I will not have that to think of."

 

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again it was with a far-away

look. He tried to raise himself. "Yes, mother," he whispered, and then

his eyes closed forever.

 

The clatter of horses' hoofs, and the clang of sabers were now heard.

Fred looked up; a party of Federal cavalry was bearing down upon him.

They looked on the bloody scene in astonishment. A dashing young captain

rode up. Fred pointed to young Ferror's lifeless body, and said: "Bring

his body back to Piketon with you. He gave his life for me. I am one of

General Nelson's scouts."

 

Then everything grew black before him, and he knew no more. He had

fainted from the loss of blood.

 

The rough troopers bound up his arm, staunched the flow of blood, and

soon Fred was able to ride to Piketon. General Nelson received him with astonishment; yet he would not let him talk, but at once ordered him to the hospital. As for Robert Ferror, he was given a soldier's burial.