General Nelson's Scout 27

General Nelson's Scout 27

One of the wounded Confederates lay groaning and crying with pain, and

Fred going up to him, asked if he could do anything for him.

 

The man looked up, and then a scowl of hate came over his face.

 

"It's you, is it?" he groaned, and then with an oath said: "I will have

you if I die for it," and attempted to raise his revolver, which he

still clutched.

 

As quick as a flash Fred knocked it out of his hand, and as quick one of

Fred's men had a revolver at the breast of the desperate Confederate.

Fred knocked the weapon up, and the shot passed harmlessly over the head

of the wounded man.

 

"None of that, Williams," said Fred. "We cannot afford to kill wounded

men in cold blood."

 

"But the wretch would have murdered you, capt'in," said Williams, and

then a cry went up from all the men. "Kill him! kill him!"

 

"Mercy! mercy!" gasped the wretch.

 

Fred looked at the man closely, and then said: "You are Bill Pearson,

the man I struck with my riding-whip at Gallatin."

 

"Yes; mercy! mercy!"

 

"You miserable wretch," said Fred, contemptuously. "By good rights I

ought to blow your brains out, but your carcass is not worth the powder.

Live, if you can."

 

Just then Fred noticed a countryman who had been attracted by the sound

of the firing, and motioned to him to approach. He came up trembling,

and looked with wonder on the dead men and horses.

 

"My good man," said Fred, "here are some wounded men that should be

looked after. Can you not do it, or get word to their command?"

 

"I reckon I kin," slowly replied the countryman. "Must had quite a

fought."

 

"Yes," replied Fred; "and this reminds me, boys, we had better get away

from here. We do not know how many of the enemy may be near."

 

The wounds of the two Federals who had been hurt were bound up, and they

were helped on their horses. The bodies of the two dead were then

tenderly placed on two of the Confederate horses which were unhurt, and

the mournful cavalcade slowly moved away.

 

Going back to the house which the Confederates had entered, a

distressing sight met their view.

 

On a bed, the master of the house lay dead, shot to death by the

murderers. By the bedside stood the wife and two daughters, weeping and

wringing their hands. The face of the widow was covered with blood, and

there was a deep gash on her head where one of the wretches had struck

her with the butt of his revolver, as she clung to him imploring him not

to murder her husband.

 

The pitiful sight drove Fred's men wild, and he had all that he could do

to prevent them from going back and finishing the wounded murderers.

 

"You did wrong, capt'in, in not letting me finish that red-handed

villain who tried to shoot you," said Williams.

 

With broken sobs the woman told her story. Her husband had a brother in

East Tennessee, who had been accused by the Confederate authorities of

helping burn railroad bridges. He escaped with a number of Union men,

and was now a captain in one of the Tennessee regiments.

 

"They came here," said the woman, "and found my husband sick in bed, so

sick he could not raise a finger to help himself. They accused him of

harboring his brother, and of furnishing information, and said that they

had come to hang him, but as he was sick they would shoot him. And

then," sobbed the woman, "notwithstanding our prayers, they shot him

before our eyes. Oh, it was dreadful!" and the stricken wife broke

completely down, and the daughters hung over the body of their murdered

father, weeping as if their hearts would break.

 

Fred was deeply moved. He told the sobbing women that he would at once

report the case, and have her husband's brother come out with his

company. "We will also," said Fred, "leave the bodies of our two dead

comrades here. If you wish, I will send a chaplain, that all may have

Christian burial. And, my poor woman, your wrongs have been fearfully

avenged. Of the nine men in the party that murdered your husband, but

one escaped. The rest are dead or terribly wounded."

 

"Thank God! thank God!" said the women, raising their streaming eyes to

heaven. Even the presence of death did not take away their desire for

revenge. Such is poor human nature, even in gentle woman.

 

"War makes demons of us all," thought Fred.

 

The story of that fight was long a theme around the camp fire, and the

three soldiers who survived never tired of telling it. As for Fred, he

spoke of it with reluctance, and could not think of it without a

shudder. Fifteen men never engaged in a bloodier conflict, even on the

"dark and bloody ground" of Kentucky.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XIII.

 

THE MEETING OF THE COUSINS.

 

 

General Thomas sat in his headquarters at Lebanon looking over some

dispatches which Fred had just brought from General Schoepf at Somerset.

His face wore a look of anxiety as he read, for the dispatches told him

that General Zollicoffer had crossed to the north side of the Cumberland

river and was fortifying his camp at Beech Grove.

 

"I may be attacked at any moment," wrote General Schoepf, "and you know

how small my force is. For the love of heaven, send me reinforcements."

 

The general sat with his head bowed in his hands thinking of what could

be done, when an orderly entered with dispatches from Louisville. Thomas

opened them languidly, for he expected nothing but the old story of

keeping still and doing nothing. Suddenly his face lighted up; his whole

countenance beamed with satisfaction, and turning to Fred he said:

 

"My boy, here is news for us, indeed. General Buell has at last

consented to advance. He has given orders for me to concentrate my army

and attack Zollicoffer at the earliest possible moment."

 

Fred could not suppress a hurrah.

 

"General," he exclaimed, "I already see Zollicoffer defeated, and hurled

back across the Cumberland."

 

General Thomas smiled. "Don't be too sanguine, Fred," he said; "none of

us know what the fortune of war may be; we can only hope for the best.

But this means more work for you, my boy. You will at once have to

return with dispatches to General Schoepf. Everything depends on his

holding his position. Somerset must be held at all hazards."

 

"I am ready to start this minute with such tidings," gayly responded

Fred. "Prince, poor fellow, will have it the hardest, for the roads are

awful."

 

"That is what I am afraid of," replied the general. "I hope to be with

Schoepf within a week, but, owing to the condition of the roads, it may

take me much longer."

 

Within an hour Fred was on his way back to Somerset. It was a terrible

journey over almost impassable roads; streams, icy cold, had to be

forded; but boy and horse were equal to the occasion, and in three days

reached Somerset.

 

How was it with General Thomas? His week lengthened into three. He

commenced his march from Lebanon on December 31st; it was January 18th

before he reached his destination. The roads seemed bottomless. The

rain poured in torrents, and small streams were turned into raging

rivers. Bridges were swept away, and had to be rebuilt. The soldiers,

benumbed with chilling rain, toiled on over the sodden roads, cheerful

in the thought that they were soon to meet the enemies of their country.

 

General Schoepf received the news of General Thomas' advance with great

satisfaction.

 

"If I can only hold on," he said, "until Thomas comes, everything will

be all right."

 

"We must show a bold front, General," replied Fred, "and make the enemy

believe we have a large force."

 

"It's the enemy that is showing a bold front nowadays," replied General

Schoepf, with a faint smile. "They have been particularly saucy lately.

They have in the last few days, cut off two or three small scouting

parties. But what worries me the most is that there is hardly a night

but that every man on some one of our picket posts is missing. There is

no firing, not the least alarm of any kind, but the men in the morning

are gone. It is a mystery we have tried to solve in vain. At first we

thought the men had deserted, but we have given that idea up. The men

are getting superstitious over the disappearance of so many of their

comrades, and are actually becoming demoralized."

 

"General, will you turn this picket business over to me?" asked Fred,

quietly.

 

"Gladly," replied the general. "I have heard much of your ability in

ferreting out secret matters. Your success as a scout I am well

acquainted with, as you know. I hope you will serve me as well in this

matter of the pickets, for I am at my wits' end."

 

"Well, General, to-morrow I will be at your service, and I trust you

will lose no more pickets before that time," and so saying Fred took his

leave, for he needed rest badly.

 

The next morning, when Fred went to pay his respects to the general, he

found him with a very long face. "Another post of four men disappeared last night," he said.