Love under Fire Part 8

The unpleasant situation was broken by the sound of steps in the hall.

The door opened, and Judge Moran entered. Miss Hardy stepped instantly aside, concealing the revolver within the folds of her skirt, yet with watchful eyes on my face. Moran glanced at us both without suspicion, and approached me with outstretched hand.

"Captain Le Gaire explained to me who you are, Major," he said with new cordiality, "and I am very glad to receive you as my guest. Are you one of the Mobile Athertons?"

"No," I answered, flushing, and avoiding her amused eyes, yet not daring to blurt out the truth, "I come from farther north."

"Exactly; I recall now there are Athertons in Memphis and Nashville, delightful people, the real, old Southern stock. I regret greatly to learn from Le Gaire that duty compels you to leave at once."

"Major Atherton has changed his plans," broke in the girl, before I could respond. "The advance of Beauregard's forces makes it safer for him to remain quiet for a few hours,--until night comes. I was just suggesting that he go up to the red room and lie down--he is nearly dead from fatigue."

"The red room!" in surprise. "Surely you jest, Miss Willifred! That is hardly considered a guest chamber."

"No; but the safest place in the house, if, by any chance, it is searched by a scouting party."

The old gentleman nodded, as if in approval.

"Possibly it would be safer, although I hardly antic.i.p.ate any such calls from the enemy with our own people so near. You will not be the first Confederate to lie hidden there, sir," with a bow to me, and a quick glance toward the smiling girl. "Would you mind showing him the way, my dear?--it is becoming difficult for me to mount the stairs."

"With pleasure; indeed, I was about to propose doing so. Major, you will go first, please."

However cheerily these words were spoken I understood their quiet threat, and the full meaning of that motionless hand held securely hidden behind the fold of her skirt. She opened the door into the hall, and, with one questioning glance into her eyes, I murmured a word of thanks to the unsuspecting judge, and pa.s.sed slowly through. Miss Hardy followed, closing the door behind her, the revolver now held in plain view.

"Up the stairs, and turn to the left," she commanded briefly.

The short, stern, business-like tone in which this order was uttered might have been amusing under other conditions, but scarcely so then when I was smarting under defeat. I glanced back, half tempted to endeavor a sudden leap; yet she was fully prepared, and I hesitated.

Would she actually shoot me down? Could it be possible the girl would take my life? I could scarcely conceive of such a probability, she seemed so womanly in every way, so light-hearted, and yet there was no laugh now in her eyes, no lack of determination in the firm setting of her lips.

"Suppose I refuse!"

"I sincerely hope you will not, Lieutenant. This is hard enough for me; don't make it any harder."

There could be no doubting what she meant, nor what she had nerved herself to accomplish. Feeling like a whipped cur I went slowly up the broad stairs, my hand on the banister rail, and she followed, keeping even pace with me, the c.o.c.ked Colt pointing sternly upward at my back.

"The last door--yes, beyond the chimney. Step inside, Lieutenant Galesworth. Now close the door."

I stood, with fingers still grasping the k.n.o.b, listening. There was a click, as though a heavy key was being turned in the lock, and then withdrawn. Following I heard her quick breath of relief, and a half-suppressed sob. The sound made her seem all woman again.

"Miss Hardy!" I called, my lips at the crack of the door.

"What is it?" the answering voice tremulous.

"I want to tell you that you are a brave girl, and that I do not in the least blame you."

There was a moment's hesitating silence, as though my unexpected words had left her speechless. Her breathing told me her lips were also close to the door.

"I--I am so glad you said that," she returned at last. "This--this has been so difficult to do. But you know I mean to do it, to hold you here; you realize I am terribly in earnest?"

"Yes--but for how long?"

"Until late to-night; then you can do us no deep injury." Her voice became firmer. "I shall remain on guard here."

I heard her move away from the direct neighborhood of the door, her steps sounding distinctly on the polished floor. Then something heavy, probably a chair or bench, was drawn forward, following which all was silence. Although I could see nothing the situation in the hall was clear. Confident escape was impossible in any other direction the determined girl had taken up her position opposite the door, prepared for a long vigil. All feeling of anger, even of irritation, had by this time left me. The slight falter, the womanly softness of her voice, had robbed me of all resentment, and I was conscious merely of admiration for her courage and loyalty. But I desired intently to stand equally high in her memory, and in order to do so must exhibit my own wit, my own resources in emergency. I felt the door--it was of solid oak, with no spot of weakness evident, even the key-hole being concealed by a metal flap on the outside. The room itself was small, the walls tinted red, and contained no furniture except a narrow bed and one straight-backed chair. Light was admitted through a small window, placed so high in the wall I was compelled to stand on the chair to look out, a mere round opening through which it would be impossible to squeeze my rather stalwart body. It was almost a typical prison cell, apparently affording not the slightest opportunity for escape. I had a pipe in my pocket, and matches, so I lit up, and lay back on the bed, reviewing the situation.

I am not of the disposition which surrenders easily, and my long experience as a scout had inured me to difficult ventures. Almost invariably there are means of escape, if one is fortunate enough to discover the point of weakness and possesses sufficient time in which to work. Yet as I lay there, my eyes anxiously scanning those bare, solid walls, my brain working coolly, the problem appeared unsolvable. The door, of hard-wood, fitting tightly into the jambs, was hopeless,--particularly with Billie outside, loaded revolver in hand, nerved to the shooting point. I climbed again to the window, but the casing was solidly spiked into position, and I could barely press my head through the aperture into the open air. It was a thirty-foot sheer drop to the hard gravel of the road beneath, the nearest tree limb a dozen feet distant, with the roof edge far beyond reach of the hand. I sat down in the chair, the blue smoke curling overhead, floating out the window, my eyes studying the red-tinted side walls, as I endeavored to recall each detail of the house's architecture, and the exact location of this particular room.

I had turned to the left at the head of the stairway, pa.s.sing by at least three doors. Then there had occurred a slight jog in the hall, making room for a large chimney, while just beyond opened this door. It was not even visible from the front of the house, and would probably be the rearmost apartment--no, that was wrong; the hallway, much contracted in width, continued on into the ell. This was quite likely the first of the servants' quarters, and that east wall must abut directly against the chimney. With a new degree of hopefulness, I pushed aside the bed, and began testing the wall s.p.a.ce with my knuckles. If any chimney was there, the stones were protected by wooden casing, which, covered by the red paper, was effectively concealed. I was about to abandon the search when a finger penetrated the paper, revealing a round opening--a pipe hole, left uncovered except for the wallpaper. I wrenched out the tin protector, and felt within. The chimney had apparently never been used, the interior being clear of soot, and was built of a single layer of stone, Southern fashion, the irregular fragments mortared together, and plastered smoothly on the inside. Without was a thin, narrow planking, dove-tailed, but secured by nails only at the four corners. This could be easily pried away, leaving the chimney itself open to attack. I could not reach far enough within to touch the opposite wall, but was convinced the s.p.a.ce would prove sufficiently large to admit my body.

With a knife I tested the resistance of the mortar, breaking the point of the blade, yet detaching quite a chunk, and wrenching out one small stone. Beyond doubt the task might be accomplished--but what was below?

How was I to get down those smoothly plastered walls--and back again, if necessary?

I glanced at my watch; it was already nearing noon, and at any moment food might be brought me. I must wait until after that; then I should probably remain undisturbed for several hours. I shoved back the bed in such position its head-board completely concealed the slight excavation, and sat down upon it, planning anew how best to proceed. The time pa.s.sed with no unusual sound reaching me from the hall without. Billie evidently felt no desire to acquaint Judge Moran with my real ident.i.ty, and perhaps would thus experience some difficulty in procuring me food,--possibly would make no effort even until night. I succeeded in pushing aside the flap over the key-hole, without making any alarming noise, and applied one eye to the aperture. There was little to be seen--merely the end of a bench, and a pair of bare, black feet. The judge's sole remaining servitor doubtless, doing a turn at guard duty.

As I gazed, some outside noise aroused him, and he went softly pattering down the hall.

The same sound startled me also, and I dropped the flap, clambering upon the chair so as to see without. It was a hundred feet to the main road, mostly velvety turf between, with a few trees partially obscuring the view. Yet I could see clearly enough, and up the pike leading through the village, half hidden by a cloud of dust, was advancing a regiment of cavalry, their flags draped, their horses walking in double column. As these swung into the straight road, a battery of artillery followed, gray-jacketed fellows, Confederates--Beauregard's advance.

CHAPTER IX

IMPORTANT NEWS

In spite of the recognized fact that these men were enemies, my heart throbbed, almost in pride, as I watched them pa.s.s. They were Americans, and magnificent fighting men. I had seen them, or their fellows, in the ruck and toil of battle, playing with death, smiling in the face of defeat. Now they were marching grimly forward to another clash of arms, through the blinding dust, heedless of all else but duty. This was what stirred me. No proud review, with glittering uniforms and waving flags, would have choked my throat, or dimmed my eyes, as did the sight of that plodding, silent column, half hidden under the dust cloud, uniforms almost indistinguishable, officers and men mingled, the drums still, the only sounds the steady tread, the occasional hoa.r.s.e shout of command.

Here was no pomp and circ.u.mstance, but grim purpose personified in self-sacrifice and endurance. With heads bowed, and limbs moving wearily, guns held at will, they swept by in unbroken column--cavalry, artillery, infantry--scarcely a face lifted to glance toward the house, with here and there a straggler limping to the roadside, or an aide spurring past--just a stream of armed men, who had been plodding on since daylight, footsore, hungry, unseeing, yet ready to die in battle at their commander's word. It was war; it was magnificent.

Yet suddenly there recurred to me my own small part in this great tragedy. Here was opportunity. Down below, on the front steps, stood the old judge, and beside him Miss Hardy, forgetful for the time of all else save those pa.s.sing troops. I sprang from the chair, drew the bed back to the centre of the room, and began my a.s.sault on the wall. There was no necessity now for silence, and I dug recklessly into the mortar with my broken knife blade, wrenching forth the loosened stones, until I had thus successfully opened a s.p.a.ce amply sufficient for my purpose. A glance down the chimney was not rea.s.suring, no gleam of light being visible, yet I was desperate enough to take the chance of discovering some opening below. There remained but this one means of attaining the lower floor, and no time for hesitation. I tore both sheets from the bed, binding them securely together, and twisting them into a rope strong enough to sustain my weight. The bed-post served to secure one end; the other I dropped down the interior of the chimney. A glance from the window exhibited a double line of canvas-covered wagons creaking past, mules toiling wearily in the traces, under close guard of a squad of infantry. The judge and the girl were still outside. I was back instantly, and clambered recklessly into the hole.

I went down slowly, clinging desperately to the twisted sheets, unable to gain the slightest purchase on the smoothly plastered side walls. My fingers slipped, but I managed to hang on until I reached the very end of my improvised rope, my feet dangling, my arms aching from the weight.

To hold on longer was seemingly impossible, yet I could neither see nor feel bottom. I let go, confident the distance could not be great, and came down without much shock a half-dozen feet below. I was in a large fire-place, apparently never utilized, the opening entirely covered by a screen of cast-iron. This fitted closely, but was unfastened, and, after feeling about cautiously in the darkness, I pushed it slightly to one side, and peered forth.

A large, rather handsomely furnished room was revealed, evidently a back-parlor, closed folding doors being conspicuous in the front wall.

Three windows faced the north, their curtains partially drawn, and I could perceive through them the lattice work of a porch, covered with the green and red of a rambler rose. I recognized instantly the situation; this room was opposite, directly across the hall from where we had eaten breakfast, its windows also commanding a view of the road.

Impelled by a desire to see what was continuing to take place without, I stole silently across the soft carpet, and peered forth. The last of the wagon train was lumbering past, and back of these, just wheeling around the corner, approached another column of hors.e.m.e.n. It would be madness for me to emerge from concealment yet, for even if I remained unnoticed by those marching troops, still there would surely be some stragglers about the premises seeking water. I sat down, staring out, endeavoring to decide about how large this Confederate force was--surely it composed all of Beauregard's corps, and, once united with Johnston, would render the Federal position extremely dangerous, perhaps untenable. Yet even now my warning of the sudden movement would be of comparatively small value, as the gap was too nearly closed for any swift advance to separate the two armies. All I could hope to accomplish was to prevent a surprise attack on our own exposed lines. And this could never be attempted before the next morning, even if Johnston swung his columns to the left in antic.i.p.ation of Beauregard's approach. The troops were too thoroughly exhausted by the forced march to be hurled immediately into battle--they must be fed and rested first. Convinced as to this I remained quiet, glancing idly about the room, until sounds outside attracted attention.

A company--or possibly two--of cavalry was drawn up on the road directly fronting the house, their centre opposite the open gate, but I was compelled to lean out in order to discover just what was occurring on the driveway. A squad of a dozen hors.e.m.e.n, powdered with dust, yet excellently mounted, were riding slowly toward the veranda. The man slightly in advance was slender, with dark moustache and goatee, sitting straight in his saddle, and on the collar of his gray coat were the stars of a general officer. Even the hasty glance gained told me his ident.i.ty--Beauregard. As this cavalcade turned at the corner of the house, I drew back, shadowed by the curtain, able thus both to see and hear. At the bottom of the steps the Confederate chieftain halted, and bowed, hat in hand.

"Judge Moran, I presume. While we have never previously met, yet your name has long been familiar. Probably I need not introduce myself."

The judge, his face beaming hospitality, grasped the outstretched hand, but Beauregard's dark, appreciative eyes were upon the girl standing at Moran's side.

"Your daughter, sir?" he asked quickly.

"Not so fortunate, General. This is Miss Willifred Hardy, of the 'Gables.'"

"Ah, yes!" the stern face instantly brightened by a rare smile. "The same fair heroine who brought the despatches from Johnston. I hoped I might reach here in time, my dear, to tell you in person how greatly I appreciate your service. May I ask if you are Major Hardy's daughter?"

Her cheeks burning, she murmured "Yes," curtsying to his rather stately bow.

"I knew your mother rather well in the old days,--a sweet girl, a Du Verne, of Baton Rouge. You have her eyes and hair." He turned toward Moran. "A courier but just arrived has brought me orders to halt my men, as Johnston is marching westward, and it is imperative that we protect the bridge yonder with sufficient force. Would it inconvenience you, Judge, if I made your house my headquarters for the night?"

"Everything I possess is freely at your service."