The Red Acorn Part 24

A slight movement of Sanderson's head acknowledged Rachel's bow.

"I am so glad to see you," he whispered, taking hold of her hand. "Sit down there, please."

Rachel took the indicated seat at the head of the cot.

"Doctor," inquired Sanderson, "is it true that McClellan has had to fall back from before Richmond?"

"I have tried hard to keep the news from you," answered Dr. Denslow, reluctantly. "I feat it is too true. Let us hope it is only a temporary reverse, and that it will soon be more than overcome."

"Not in time for me," said Sanderson, in deep dejection. "I have lived several days merely because I wanted to see Richmond taken before I died. I can wait no longer."

The Doctor essayed some confused words of encouragement, but stopped abruptly, and feigning important business in another part of the hospital, hurried out, bidding Rachel await his return.

When he was gone Sanderson lifted Rachel's hand to his lips, and said with deep feeling:

"I am so glad you have come. You remind me of her."

The ebbing life welled up for the last time into such ardent virility that Rachel's first maidenly instinct was to withdraw her hand from his earnest pressure and kiss.

"No, do not take your hand away," he said eagerly. "There need be no shame, for I shall be clay almost before you flush has had time to fade.

I infringe on no other's rights, for I see in you only another whom you much resemble."

Rachel suffered her hand to remain within his grasp.

"I would that she knew as you do, that I died thinking of her, next to my country. You will write and tell her so. The Doctor will give you her address, and you can tell her, as only a woman can tell another what the woman-heart hungers for, of my last moments. It is so much better that you should do it than Dr. Denslow, even, grand as he is in every way.

You will tell her that there was not a thought of repining--that I felt that giving my life was only partial payment to those who gave theirs to purchase for me every good thing that I have enjoyed. I had twenty-five years of as happy a life as ever a man lived, and she came as its crowning joy. I look forward almost eagerly to what that Power, which has made every succeeding year of my life happier than the previous one, has in store for me in the awakening beyond. Ah, see there! It has come.

There goes my life."

She looked in the direction of his gaze, and saw a pool of blood slowly spreading out from under the bed, banking itself against the dust into miniature gulfs and seas. The hand that held hers relaxed, and looking around she saw his eyes closed as if in peaceful sleep.

Dr. Denslow entered while she still gazed on the dead face, and said:

"I am so sorry I left you alone. I did not expect this for some hours."

"How petty and selfish all my life has been," said Rachel, dejectedly, as they left the room.

"Not a particle more than his was, probably," said Dr. Denslow, "until his opportunity came. It is opportunity that makes the hero, as well as the less reputable personage, and I have no doubt that when yours comes, you will redeem yourself from all blame of selfishness and pettiness."

Chapter XVI. The Ambuscade.

This heavy-headed revel, east and west, Makes us traduced and taxed of other nations; They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish frase Soul our addition: and indeed it takes From our achievements, though performed at hight, The pith and marrow of our attribute.--Hamlet.

The day spent with Aunt Debby had been of the greatest benefit to Harry Glen. Since his parting with Rachel Bond, there had been going on in his spirit a fermentation like that with which good wine discharges itself of its grossness and impurities, and becomes clear and fine. In this process had vanished the absorbing selfishness of a much-indulged only son, and teh supercilious egotism which came as an almost necessary result of his college curriculum. This spiritual ripening received its perfecting color and bloom from the serene exaltation of Aunt Debby's soul. So filled was she with lofty devotion to the cause, so complete her faith in its holiness, and so unquestioning her belief that it was every one's simple duty to brave all dangers for it, and die if need be without a murmur, that contact with her would have inspired with pure patriotic ardor a nature much less ready for such leavening than Harry's.

As Dr. Denslow had surmised, his faults were mainly superficial, and underneath them was a firm gristle of manhood, which would speedily harden into bone. With the experience he had been having, days would mature this as rapidly as ordinary years. He was himself hardly aware of the transformation, but only felt, as his physical exhaustion disappeared, a new eagerness to partic.i.p.ate in the great work of the war. He was gratified to know a little later that this was no transient feeling. In the course of the evening Jim Fortner came back in, with Kent Edwards and Abe Bolton. After they had all satisfied their hunger, Fortner informed Harry and Aunt Debby that the enemy had fallen back to London, from which point he was sending out wagons into the surrounding country, to gather up food, forage, arms, clothing, ammunition, etc., with the double object of depriving the Union men of them, and adding the same to the Rebel resources. A long train had also been sent out to the Goose Creek Salt Works--twenty-five miles northeast of London--to bring away a lot of salt stored there, of which the Rebels had even more need than of food.

Fortner proposed to go out in the morning, and endeavor to capture some of these wagons. It seemed altogether probably that a few might be caught in such a position that their guards could be killed or driven off.

All readily agreed to this plan, Aunt Debby leading off by volunteering to ride ahead on her mare, as a scout.

Harry suddenly remembered that he was weaponless. "What shall I do for a gun?" he asked, anxiously.

"I declar, I done forgot all 'bout gittin' ye a gun," said Fortner with real concern. "My mind was disturbed by other things," he added with a suspicion of a grin at Edwards and Bolton; but they were leaning back in their chairs fast asleep. Apple jack, fatigue and a hearty supper together made a narcotic too potent to resist.

Fortner rose, spread a few blankets on the floor, added a sack of bran for a pillow, and with some difficulty induced the two sleepers to lie down and take their slumbers in a more natural position.

"I'll find ye a gun," said Aunt Debby, as this operation was finished, and walking to a farther corner of the room, she came back bearing in her hand a rifle very similar to the one Fortner carried.

"Thar," she said, setting the delicately-curved brazen heel down upon the hearth, and holding the muzzle at arm's length while she gazed at the gun with the admiration one can not help feeling for a magnificent weapon, "is ez true a rifle ez ever a man put to his shoulder. Ef I didn't b'lave ye ter be ez true ez steel ye shouldn't tech hit, fur hit b'longed ter the truest man in this livin' world."

"Hit wuz her husband's," explained Fortner, as her lips met firmly, as if choking down bitter memories.

"I'm givin' hit ter ye ter use ez he'd a-used hit ef he war a-livin',"

she said, steadying her tones with a perceptible effort. "I'm glad thet my hands can put inter yours the means ter avenge him."

Harry tried in vain to make an appropriate response.

"I'll clean hit up for ye," she said to Harry, as she saw Fortner beginning to furbish up his own rifle for the next day's duties.

That she was no stranger to the work was shown by the skill with which she addressed herself to it. Nothing that a Kentucky mountaineer does has more of the aspect of a labor of love, than his caring for a find rifle, and any of them would have been put to shame by the deftness of Aunt Debby's supple hands. Removing the leathern hood which protected the lock, she carefully rubbed off the hammer and nipple with a wisp of soft fine tow, and picked out the tube with a needle. Wrapping another bit of tow around the end of a wiping-stick, she moistened it slightly in her mouth, and carefully swabbed out of the inside of the barrel every suspicion of dust and dirt. Each of the winding rifles was made clean and free along its whole course. Then the tow swab was lightly touched with sweet, unsalted goose-fat, that it might spread a rust-preventing film over the interior surface. She burnished the silver and bra.s.s ornaments, and rubbed the polished stock until it shone. When not a suspicion of soil or dirt remained any where, the delicate double triggers were examined and set so that they would yield at the stroke of a hair, a tuft of lightly-oiled tow was placed over the nipple and another closed the muzzle.

"Thar," said Aunt Deby, setting the gun back against the logs, "is a rifle that'll allers do hits duty, ef the man a-holt of hit does his.

Let's see how the ammunition is."

The powder horn was found to be well filled with powder, and the box with caps, but there were only a few bullets.

"I'll run ye some," she said, taking from a shelf a small iron ladle, a few bars of lead, and a pair of bullet molds. "Fur more'n a hunderd years the women uv our fam'ly hev run all the bullets our menfolks shot.

They b'lieved hit made 'em lucky. Granfather Fortner killed an Injun chief acrost the Maumee River at the battle of Fallen Timbers with a bullet thet Granmother hed run fur him an' markt with a little cross.

Afore the battle begun Granfather tuck the bullet outen his pouch an'

put hit inter his mouth, until he could git a chance ter use hit on big game. He brot the chief's scalp hum ter Granmother."

"I believe the bullets you cast for me will do good service," said Harry, with sincerity in his tones.

"I'm sartin of hit," she returned, confidently. "I hev adopted ye in my heart ez a son, an' I feel towards ye ez ef ye were raylly uv my own kin. I know ye'll be a credit to yerself an' me."

While the lead was melting upon the bed of coals she drew out on the hearth, she sat in her low chair with her hands clasped about her knees, and her great gray eyes fixed upon the depths of a ma.s.s of glowing embers in the fireplace, as if she saw there vivid pictures of the past or revelations of the future.

"How wonderfully bright an' glowin' hit is in thar," she said musingly; "hit's purer an' brighter then ennything else on arth. 'Purified ez by fire,' the Book says. My G.o.d, Thou has sent Thy fires upon me ez a sweepin' flood. Hev they purified me ez Thou wisht? How hit shines an'

glows away in thar! Hit seems so deep sometimes thet I kin skeercely see the end. A million times purer an' brighter is the light thet shines from the Throne uv G.o.d. THEY'RE lookin' at thet now, while I still tarry heah. Husband an' son, when will I go to ye? When will I finish the work the Lord hez fur me ter do? When will the day uv my freedom come? May-be to-morrer--may-be to-morrer."

She began singing softly: