The Littlest Rebel Part 6

"Yes, it's true," the man said with a groan. "They're gradually closing in on us--surrounding Richmond."

"_Surrounding us?_" Mrs. Cary whispered, hardly believing her ears.

"Yes, it's true--all too true," the man burst out bitterly. "We can fight against thousands--and against tens of thousands but, darling, we can't fight half the world."

He sank down on the bench, one elbow on his crossed knee, the other arm hanging listlessly by his side. His face grew lined and haggard. All the spirit, the indomitable courage of a moment ago had fled before the revelation that, try as they might, they could never conquer in this terribly unequal fight. Then he threw out his hand and began to speak, half to her and half to the unseen armies of his fellows.

"Our armies are exhausted. Dwindling day by day. We are drawing from the cradle and the grave. Old men--who can scarcely bear the weight of a musket on their shoulders: and boys--mere children--who are sacrificed under the blood-stained wheels. The best! The flower of our land! We are dumping them all into a big, red hopper. Feed! Feed! Always more feed for this greedy machine of war!"

Silently wife and daughter came to the man in his despair, as if to ward off some dark shape which hovered over him with brushing wings. Their arms went around him together.

"There, there, dear," he heard a soft voice whisper, "don't grow despondent. _Think!_ Even though you've fought a losing fight it has been a glorious one--and G.o.d will not forget the Stars and Bars!

Remember,--you still have us--who love you to the end--and fight your battles--on our knees."

Slowly the man looked up.

"Forgive me, honey," he murmured remorsefully. "You are right--and bravest, after all. It is you--you women, who save us in the darkest hours. You--our wives--our mothers--who wage a silent battle in the lonely, broken homes. You give us love and pity--tenderness and tears--a flag of pride that turns defeat to victory. The women of the South," he cried, and Herbert Cary doffed his hat before his wife, "the crutch on which the staggering hope of Dixie leans!"

There came, then, the sound of hurrying footsteps. Once more Sally Ann rushed from the house but this time genuine danger was written plainly in her face.

"Mars' Cary! Mars' Cary! Dey's comin' dis time--sho' 'nuff!"

"How many?" Cary cried, springing for the roadway and his horse.

"Dey's comin' thu' de woods--an' Lawd Gawd, de yearth is fyar blue wid'

'em."

"Billy!" commanded Cary. "Take Lightfoot as fast as you can down to the edge of the woods. Don't worry, Hallie, they'll never catch me once I'm in the saddle."

He stooped and kissed her, then caught up Virgie for a last hug, burying his worn face in her curls. "Good-by, little one. Take good care of Mother. Good-by!"

With one last grasp his wife caught his hand. "Herbert! which way do you go?"

"Across the river--to the Chesterfield side."

"But the Yankees came that way, too!"

"I'll circle around them. If they've left a guard at the crossing I'll swim the river higher up." He slapped his holster with his open hand.

"Listen for three shots. If they come in quick succession--then I've crossed--I'm safe. If I only had a few men I'd stay, but alone, I can't--you know I can't. Good-by! G.o.d bless you." And in another moment he was in the saddle--had waved his hand--was gone.

Straining their eyes after him, as if they would somehow pierce the dark woods which hid his flight, mother and daughter stood as if turned to stone. Only Virgie, after a moment, waved her hand and sent her soft, childish prayer winging after him to save him from all harm. "Good-by, Daddy-man, good-by!"

Sally Ann, however, having seen the approaching danger with her own eyes, began to wring her hands and cry hysterically. "Aw, Miss Hallie, I so skeered! I so skeered!"

"Sally," cried Mrs. Cary, as the sound of hoofbeats thudding through the woods came unmistakably to her ears, "take Virgie with you instantly and run down through the grove to the old ice house. Hide there under the pine tags. Understand?"

But the negro girl, ashen with terror, seemed incapable of flight.

"I skeered to go, Miss Hallie," she whimpered. "I wan' stay here wid you! Ou-ou!"

"But you can't, I tell you," her mistress answered, as the certainty of the girl's helplessness before a questioner flashed through her mind.

"You'd tell everything."

"Oh, come on, you big baby," Virgie urged, pulling at Sally Arm's sleeve. "_I'll_ take care of you." Then her eye fell on Susan Jemima lying neglected on the bench and she gave a faint scream at her heartlessness. "Goodness gracious, Mother," she cried, as, still holding on to Sally Ann, she ran and caught up her beloved doll. "I nearly forgot my child!"

With the clank of sabers and the sound of gruff commands already in her ears, Mrs. Cary turned peremptorily to Uncle Billy.

"Remember, William! If the Yankees ask for my husband _you haven't seen him!_"

"Nor'm, dat's right," was the prompt answer. "I dunno you eben got one.

But you go in de house, Miss Hallie. Dat's de bes' way,--yas'm."

"Perhaps it _is_ best," his mistress answered. "The longer we can detain them the better for Captain Cary. You'd better come in yourself."

"Yas'm," replied the faithful old man, although such action was farthest from his thoughts. "In des' a minnit. I'll be dar in des' a minnit."

But once his mistress had closed the door behind her Uncle Billy's plan of operations changed. Hurrying down the steps he plunged his arm under the porch and drew forth--a rusty ax. With his weapon over his shoulder he hastened up on the veranda and stood with his back against the door.

CHAPTER III

The thudding feet came nearer. A bugle call--a rattling of accouterments and then, from the other side of the hedge, came a half dozen troopers in blue, led by a Sergeant with a red face and bloodshot eyes.

"This way, boys!" the Sergeant shouted, and at the sound of a harsh, never-forgotten voice Uncle Billy's grasp on his ax grew tighter. "_I_ know the place--I've been here before. _We'll_ get the liquor and silver while the Colonel is stealing the horses, eh?" Then his eyes fell on Uncle Billy and he greeted him with a yell of recognition. "h.e.l.lo, you black old ape! Come down and show us where you buried the silver and the whisky. Oh, you won't? Then I'll come up and get you," and he lurched forward.

"Look here, white man," Uncle Billy shouted, lifting the rusty ax high in the air, "you stay whar you is. Ef you come up dem steps I'll split yo' ugly haid! I know you, Jim Dudley," he cried. "Mars' Cary done give you _one_ horse whippin', an' ef you hang aroun' here you'll get anudder one!"

Furious at the recollection of his shame of a few years back when he had been overseer on this same plantation, the Sergeant rushed up the steps and knocked the ax aside with his gun barrel. "Yes, he did whip me, burn him, and now I'll do the same for you." Seizing Uncle Billy by the throat he pushed him against the house.

Instantly the door swung open. Mrs. Cary, her head held high, her beautiful dark eyes blazing with wrath, stood on the threshold.

"Stop it!" she commanded in tones that brooked no disobedience even from a drunkard. "Let my servant go--instantly!"

Astounded at this sudden apparition the man shrank back for a moment, but almost as quickly regained his bl.u.s.ter.

"Ah-hah, the beautiful Mrs. Cary, eh! I'm glad to see you looking so well--and handsome."

The words might as well have been spoken to the wind for all the notice that the woman paid them. With only a gesture of mingled contempt and loathing she stepped to the railing and called to the grinning troopers below. "Who is in command here?"

To her horror only Dudley answered.

"_I_ am," he said, triumphantly. He thrust a menacing face close to hers and ordered her curtly. "And I'd just as soon have _you_ get me a drink as the n.i.g.g.e.r. Come on, fine lady."

Intent on insulting this woman whose husband had once cut his back with a whip the man caught her by the arm and roughly tried to pull her to him. But before he could accomplish his purpose retribution fell on him with a heavy hand.

Through a gap in the hedge an officer at the head of a dozen troopers appeared. One look at the scene on the veranda and Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison, with a smothered cry, dashed up the steps.