An Undivided Union Part 37

"Wait and see, Life; and in the meantime keep that spot well covered,"

answered Deck; and he pointed up the stream a distance of twenty yards.

"What has that spot got to do with your getting over there?"

"Everything."

"The stream is wider there by five feet than it is down below."

"Perhaps you had better not ask any more questions, Life. But don't fail to keep that point covered," concluded Deck; and in a moment more he had glided off through the brush bordering the stream.

CHAPTER XXVII

MAJOR LYON PLAYS THE PART OF A SPY

Major Dexter Lyon had made up his mind that a portion of the hostile sharpshooters were concealed upon the narrow island in the centre of the stream known as Duff's Claim. Several shots had been fired, and both he and Life Knox had come to the conclusion that these had come from the heavily wooded strip of land.

The major was very anxious to know what the sharpshooters were doing in this vicinity. No Union force had been in the neighborhood for forty-eight hours, and why should the enemy send such expert shots to such a spot unless it was known that they were wanted? Surely the Confederates had no sharpshooters to spare on a mere excursion into these woods.

The major was in the habit of thinking rapidly, and his conclusion was, that the sharpshooters were guarding something, which must, necessarily, be of value, especially to the army. His mind went back to the time when he had captured the ammunition and gun on the raft. Would it be his good fortune to make another haul of as much, or greater, worth?

It must be remembered that at this time the Riverlawns knew nothing of the great battle which General Thomas had precipitated by sending out troops to capture the brigade supposed to be isolated from the remainder of the Confederate command. To be sure, heavy firing was springing up here and there, but then there had been heavy firing before which had amounted to but very little when it came to summing up results.

When Deck had been conversing with Life, his eye had been caught by two gigantic willow trees growing along the banks of Duff's Claim. One tree was along the sh.o.r.e where the Kentuckian's men lay concealed; the other grew on the sh.o.r.e of the island, directly opposite. Both trees were bent and twisted, and their branches interlocked some fifteen feet above the stream's surface.

Perhaps the task Deck had set for himself may look easy to the average reader, but it was not altogether so, and the major realized this. The willows were old, and old trees often have rotten limbs which break when least expected. Moreover green willow limbs are very pliable and bend and twist beyond expectation. Under ordinary circ.u.mstances, Deck would not have minded a tumble into the stream, but he knew that a tumble now would bring a shot meant to be fatal and one which would most likely prove so.

For Deck had decided to cross the stream by climbing up the tree nearest to him and making his way from one set of branches to the next. The tree was easily gained; and catching a limb on the side away from the water, he hauled himself up. Two minutes more, and he was at the point where he could grasp the branches which came from the opposite sh.o.r.e.

So far he had heard or seen nothing to awaken his suspicion, and he was beginning to think that no sharpshooter could be within a hundred feet of him, if as close. He caught the limbs, took a long step, and in a second was safe on the tree beyond the stream.

Deck did not deem it best to descend to the ground immediately. He moved first to the main trunk of the willow, and then to the ends of the limbs spreading toward the island's interior. Here there was a ridge, surmounted by some short but heavy brush, and behind the ridge was something of a hollow, although the surface was not below that of the stream.

The first thing that caught Deck's eye now was a barrel, rolled against the brush. Half a dozen boxes lay close by, and several barrels were behind them. Back of all was another line of brush, but he felt that more boxes and barrels were not far off.

"Some quartermaster's stores," he thought. "And if I am not mistaken, two of those boxes are from the hospital department. Evidently the enemy think they have a sure thing of it in this vicinity. Well, the Riverlawns will surprise them, I reckon."

No one had been in sight, but now Deck detected the gleam of a gun barrel but a few yards distant. The Confederate sharpshooter lay flat on his chest, peering through the bottom of some brush.

"By the boots, but thet's a good shot!" Deck heard him mutter; and he saw the fellow draw up his gun and take a careful aim at something.

Deck felt that he was firing at one of his own sharpshooters, and without hesitation the major drew his own pistol.

"Don't fire!" he commanded, in a clear, but low voice.

"What's thet?" demanded the Confederate, thinking one of his comrades had spoken to him.

"I said, 'don't fire,'" replied Deck, taking care to keep out of sight.

"Who is thet talkin' to me?" And now the sharpshooter turned half around. "I had a dandy shot."

"The cap'n's orders are not to fire, but to retreat to the other side of the creek," went on Deck. "Pa.s.s the order along;" and he spoke in a rough voice, and one apparently filled with disgust.

"Well, I swan!" came from the Confederate sharpshooter. "It was a dandy chance to bring down a man."

"I had a dandy chance myself just now," answered Deck. He felt that his position was a delicate one, and he kept his finger on the trigger of his pistol.

"Are you going to retreat, too?"

"No; the cap'n says I'm to stay on guard here."

"Then he don't want me no more?"

"No. You are to go back--and don't forget to pa.s.s the word along. We're running the chance of being surrounded, I've heard."

At this the Confederate sharpshooter muttered something Deck did not catch. But he arose, and fell back, and in a few seconds more was out of the major's sight.

Deck's ruse had succeeded, but he knew that the success would be of uncertain duration. His position was a perilous one, for discovery would more than likely mean death.

Anxious to make the most of the present opportunity, he began to retreat, hoping to gain the position his command occupied and give the necessary instructions to capture the Confederates as they crossed the stream on the opposite side of the island.

He reached the trunk of the tree and was on the point of moving to the outer branches, when a voice from below startled him.

"Wot yer doin' with thet Union suit on?"

Looking down, Deck saw a sharpshooter gazing up at him. The Confederate had his gun to his shoulder and the barrel was pointed directly for the major's head.

"Got to wear something," answered Deck, speaking as calmly as he could, although he was somewhat shocked by the salutation.

"Ain't you a Yank?" was the next question put.

"A Yank! over here?" queried Deck, in pretended astonishment.

The Confederate sharpshooter was silent for an instant, and shifted an immense quid of plug tobacco from one cheek to the other.

"Say, Major, tumble down right yere!" he ordered abruptly.

"Supposing I won't come down?"

"Then I'll have to tumble you."

"So you take me for a Union man?"

"I reckon I take you for a prisoner, or a corpse. Which is it?"