General Nelson's Scout 26

General Nelson's Scout 26

"General, I am sorry to have you resign," answered Fred, hardly knowing

what to say.

 

The general's face darkened, and then he answered lightly: "I do not

think they will be sorry at Washington."

 

And they were not; his resignation was gladly accepted, and the general

who afterward led his victorious army to Atlanta, and then made his

famous march to the sea, and whose fame filled the world, retired under

a cloud. And the injustice of it rankled in his breast and imbittered

his heart for months.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XII.

 

A DESPERATE ENCOUNTER.

 

 

The general appointed to succeed Sherman was Don Carlos Buell, a

thorough soldier, and, like McClellan, a splendid organizer; but, like

that general, he was unsuccessful in the field, and during what is known

as the "Bragg-Buell campaign" in Kentucky in the fall of 1862, he

entirely lost the confidence of his soldiers.

 

Buell's first attention was given to the organization of his army and

the drilling of his soldiers. His labors in this direction were very

successful, and the "Army of the Cumberland" became famous for its

_esprit de corps_.

 

General Nelson, according to his predictions, was ordered back with his

command to Louisville. Fred, now entirely well, was greatly rejoiced to

once more see his old commander. But there was little prospect of active

service, for the division was ordered into camp for the purpose of

drilling and being perfected in military duties. Idleness was irksome to

Fred, so he asked and obtained permission to join General Thomas, and

remain until such time as Nelson might need his services.

 

General Thomas gave Fred a most cordial reception. There was something

about the handsome, dashing boy that greatly endeared him to the staid,

quiet general. Just now, Fred's presence was very desirable, for

Zollicoffer was proving very troublesome, threatening first one point

and then another, and it was almost impossible to tell which place was

in the most danger. General Thomas' forces were greatly scattered,

guarding different points, and he feared that at some of these places

his troops might be attacked and overpowered. He had asked permission of

Buell time and again to be allowed to concentrate his forces and strike

Zollicoffer a telling blow, but each and every time had met with a

refusal. Instead of being allowed to concentrate his force, he was

ordered to move portions of his command here and there, and the orders

of one day might be countermanded the next. Being December, the roads

were in a horrible condition, and it was almost impossible to move

trains, so that his army was being reduced by hard service which did no

good. Fred could see that the general was worried. He would sit for

hours buried in thought or poring over maps.

 

All this time, Zollicoffer was ravaging the middle southern counties of

Kentucky, threatening first London, then Somerset, then Columbia, then

some intermediate point. The outposts of the army were often attacked,

and frequent skirmishes took place. In the midst of this activity, Fred

found congenial employment. He was kept busy carrying dispatches from

one post to another, or on scouting expeditions, trying to gain

information of the movements of the enemy. He frequently met squads of

the enemy, and had many narrow escapes from capture; but the fleetness

of his horse always saved him.

 

Of all General Thomas' scouts, Fred obtained the most valuable

information. While not venturing into the enemy's lines, he had a way of

getting information out of the inhabitants friendly to the South that

surprised even the general. Fred hardly ever made a mistake as to the

movements of the opposing army.

 

If there was one thing that he loved more than another it was his horse.

He had trained him to do anything that a horse could do. At a word he

would lie down and remain as motionless as if dead. He would go anywhere

he was told without hesitating, and his keen ear would detect the

presence of an enemy quicker than the ear of his master. Fred had also

perfected himself in the use of a revolver until he was one of the best

shots in the army. He could ride by a tree at full gallop, and put three

balls in a three-inch circle without checking his speed.

 

"My life," he would say, "may depend on my being able to shoot quickly

and accurately."

 

On some of his scouts Fred would take a party with him, and there was

not a soldier who did not consider it one of the greatest honors to be

thus chosen.

 

One day near the close of the year Fred was scouting with a picked

force of five men a few miles to the east and south of Somerset. As they

were riding through a piece of wood, Prince suddenly stopped, pricked up

his ears, listened a moment, and then turned and looked at his master,

as if to say, "Danger ahead!"

 

"To cover, boys," said Fred, in a low tone. "Prince scents trouble."

 

The party turned aside into the wood, and was soon completely hidden

from view.

 

"Steady now," said Fred; "no noise."

 

"Are you sure your horse is as wise as you think?" asked one of the men.

 

"Perfectly sure; Prince never makes a mistake. Hark!"

 

The trampling of horses, and the jingling of sabers could plainly be

heard, and soon a party of nine Confederate cavalrymen came riding by.

They had no thought of danger, and were laughing and talking, thinking

not that death lurked so near them.

 

"The old traitor lives right ahead," they heard one say.

 

"We will learn him to harbor East Tennessee bridge-burners," said the

leader with a coarse laugh.

 

"Will it be hanging or shooting, Sergeant?" asked a third. "I hope it

will be hanging. It's such fun to see a Lincolnite hanging by the neck

and dancing on air. Never shoot a man if you can hang him, is my motto."

 

Fred's men heard this conversation with lowering brows, and the

muttered curses were deep if not loud, and five carbines were raised,

but with a gesture Fred motioned them down. His men looked at him in

astonishment, and there was disappointment on every face.

 

As soon as the Confederates were out of hearing, so it was safe to

speak, one of the men said with a sigh:

 

"Capt'in,"--the soldiers always called Fred captain when they were out

with him--"I would hev give five dollars for a shot. I would hev fetched

that feller that loved to see hangin', sure."

 

"I have strict orders," replied Fred, "to avoid fighting when I am out

on these scouting expeditions. It is the part of a good scout never to

get into a fight except to avoid capture. A scout is sent out to get

information, not to fight; a conflict defeats the very object he has in

view."

 

"That's so, capt'in, but it goes agin the grain to let them fellers

off."

 

"I may have made a mistake," replied Fred, "in letting those fellows

off. Come to think about it, I do not like what they said. It sounded

like mischief."

 

"Worse than that, capt'in."

 

"We will follow them up," said Fred, "as far as we can unobserved. You

remember we passed a pretty farmhouse some half a mile back; that may be

the place they were talking about. We can ride within three hundred

yards of it under cover of the forest."

 

Riding carefully through the wood, they soon came in sight of the

place. Surely enough, the Confederates had stopped in front of the

house. Four of them were holding the horses, while the other five were

not to be seen. As they sat looking the muffled sound of two shots were

heard, and then the shrieking of women.

 

"Boys," said Fred, in a strained voice, "I made a mistake in not letting

you shoot. Hear those shrieks? There is devil's work there. There are

nine of them; we are six. Shall we attack them?"

 

"Aye! aye!" shouted every one, their eyes blazing with excitement.

 

"Look well to your weapons, then. Are you ready?"

 

"We are ready. Hurrah for the young capt'in!" they all shouted.

 

"Then for God's sake, forward, or we will be too late!" for the frenzied

shrieks of women could still be heard.

 

They no sooner broke cover, than the men holding the horses discovered

them, and gave the alarm. The five miscreants who were in the house came

rushing out, and all hastily mounting their horses, rode swiftly away.

The Federals, with yells of vengeance, followed in swift pursuit; yet in

all probability the Confederates would have escaped if it had not been

for the fleetness of Prince. Fred soon distanced all of his companions,

and so was comparatively alone and close on the heels of the enemy.

They noticed this, and conceived the idea that they could kill or

capture him. This was their undoing. Fred was watching for this very

thing, and as they stopped he fired, just as the leader's horse was

broadside to him. Then at the word, Prince turned as quick as a flash,

and was running back. The movement was so unexpected to the Confederates

that the volley they fired went wild.

 

As for the horse of the Confederate leader, it reared and plunged, and

then fell heavily, pinning its rider to the ground. Two of his men

dismounted to help him. When he got to his feet, he saw that Fred's

companions had joined him and that they all were coming on a charge.

 

"Here, Simmons!" he yelled. "Let me have your horse. You take to cover.

Now, boys, stand firm; there are only six of them. Here is for old

Tennessee!"

 

But it takes men of iron nerve to stand still and receive a charge, and

the Federals were coming like a whirlwind.

 

The Confederates emptied their revolvers at close range, and then half

of them turned to flee. It was too late; the Federals were among them,

shooting, sabering, riding them down. The fight was short and fierce.

When it was over, eight Confederates lay dead or desperately wounded. Of the six Federals, two were dead and two were wounded. Only one Confederate had escaped to carry back the story of the disaster.