The Young Sharpshooter at Antietam Part 33

Even if the desire had been in the minds of the young soldiers, the opportunity to escape was gone. The guard was changed every hour now, and there was no question that the muskets of the marching soldiers were loaded. There was no blank cartridge here.

Noel's strong desire was to receive word from those who knew him. But just where that division of the army now was located he did not know, nor was he positive that there would be an opportunity in the presence of threatening events for an investigation to be made which would relieve him from the charge which was hanging over him.

A third visit from the chaplain still failed to bring the desired news.

The depression of the boys was so manifest that the chaplain apparently made a special effort to cheer them.

"There was a little fellow back here near the colonel's tent who somehow made me think of you two boys. You have told me about the little sutler.

Let me see, what did you say his name is?"

"Levi. Levi Kadoff," answered Noel.

"Well, this little fellow by the colonel's tent may be the same one. He was a little Jew, who had been shot. A ball had just grazed the tips of two of his fingers and he was howling so loudly that I think you might have heard him here, if you had listened."

"Was he yelling with pain?"

"Oh, no!" laughed the chaplain. "He was crying for a pension. In fact, he was screaming for one. Yes, he wanted two pensions. When I saw him he was holding up the two fingers that had been scratched, and was whining, 'Oh, Scheneral! Oh, Scheneral! how much pensions I gets for heem? I d.i.n.k I gets two pensions, maybe. One for each finger vat I lose.' A lot of the boys had gathered around the little fellow and they were having a good time as they listened to his complaints."

"Did he say where he was when he was shot?"

"No, I didn't hear anything about that."

"Maybe he is Levi. If he is, and you'll bring him here, Dennis and I soon can tell. Did he have shining black eyes?"

"Yes."

"And curly black hair?"

"Yes."

"And did he weigh about ninety pounds?"

"Not more than that."

"Well, that's Levi; that's Levi, all right," broke in Dennis. "Just bring him here to me, and I'll make him forgit his fingers and his pinsions."

"You may make him forget his fingers, but you never can make him forget his pensions," laughed the chaplain. "That seemed to be the chief thing in his mind. I think I'll try to find out if his name is Levi Kadoff."

"If it is," suggested Noel, "bring the fellow here, but don't tell him what you are bringing him for or that we are here."

"I'll see what I can do," said the chaplain, and a moment later he departed from the tent.

The fact that the kind-hearted officer had made three visits that day to the boys showed his interest in their welfare, but somehow Noel was unable to shake off his conviction that their friend was powerless to aid them. Accordingly he was surprised when an hour afterward the chaplain returned.

"No word yet," he said quietly, as he smiled and shook his head, "but I have some other good news for you. You understand there is nothing to back up the statement which you have made that you were sharpshooters in the Peninsula campaign. Personally, I believe what you tell me. I have at last secured permission for you both to go with an orderly and four men to a place outside the camp where you may show what skill you possess."

"That's the way to talk," spoke up Dennis quickly. His hope had now returned with full force. Indeed, as he afterward explained, he looked upon their discharge as already having been accomplished.

To Noel, however, the privilege was not one which was unmixed with anxiety. In his own skill, in his quiet way, he felt confident, but to make such skill a test of the truth of what he had spoken was another matter. A gun with which he was unfamiliar would be thrust into his hands and the very excitement of the test of itself might be sufficient to prevent him from doing himself full justice.

The chaplain, aware of what was pa.s.sing in the mind of the young soldier, smiled encouragingly and did not speak.

Dennis, whose joy rapidly increased, had now arrived at a point where his enthusiasm seemed to pa.s.s all bounds.

"I'll tell you what to do, yer Riverence," he said to the chaplain.

"Just put Noel and me tin yards apart. Let one of us fire and then the other and you'll find Noel's bullet lodged in the barrel of my gun and my bullet in his. That is, if we don't fire at the same time. If we should fire at the same minute the bullets would meet midway and you wouldn't find anything but two flattened pieces of lead."

"Do you often have an experience like that?" inquired the chaplain with a smile.

"Oh, yis, very oftin," answered Dennis solemnly. "Sometimes Noel says to me,' Dennis, me boy, I'm a bit tired this mornin'. Just put a bullet in my gun, please'; and it's easier to shoot one in than it is to have to go through the whole process o' loadin'."

The chaplain said no more, but at once conducted the two young soldiers to the guard which was waiting outside the tent.

No word was spoken as the little band fell in, and at the word of the orderly started in the direction which to Noel's surprise led over the way by which he had come when he had been brought to the camp. As yet he had not been able to obtain from Dennis a connected story of the mishaps of the young Irish soldier, nor of the way by which he had avoided his enemies and at last had been taken as a deserter and confined in the guard-tent.

Noel somehow believed that not even Dennis would have been able to escape from the well in which he had been hidden unless he had received help from outside. But to all inquiries Dennis made evasive replies, and Noel was still unable to understand the mystery with which he had shrouded his doings.

The little band now was on the borders of the place where the division was encamped. The entire region was unfamiliar to Noel, but as he glanced at a low house on the side of the road over which they were pa.s.sing he was startled when he beheld Levi standing by the little cabin. The little sutler's fingers were bandaged, and as Noel recalled the story which the chaplain related to him and the pleadings of the little Jew for two pensions because he had received a wound in the tips of two fingers, he smiled in spite of the seriousness of the errand upon which he and his companion were going.

Suddenly Levi recognized the two young soldiers in the midst of the little band, and with a scream of rage instantly started toward them.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE SHARPSHOOTERS

"I shall see dem hanged," screamed the little sutler; "I shall see dem hanged. Dey steals mine goots. Dey tip ofer mine tent. I shall see dem hanged."

Levi's voice, usually shrill, in his rage now became almost a childish treble. Even his wounded fingers were forgotten for the moment, and he was gesticulating with both hands.

"Shure," exclaimed Dennis, pretending to have difficulty in recognizing the little Jew, "shure, 'tis Levi! My friend, it's lucky for you it's not cold here. You talk so much wid your hands they might be frozen stiff."

Unmindful of the declaration, Levi became still more excited and his hands were moving still more rapidly.

"Yah, I shall see you hanged!" he shouted. "You shall no more steal mine goots! It shall cost you more nor you vould haf paid for mine goots, vot vas so cheap. You shall no more tip ofer mine tent!"

"Levi," said Dennis solemnly, "how many pinsions are you drawin'?"

"I draw no pensions yet," shrieked Levi.

"I understand," said Dennis, "that you are trying to draw two pinsions, one for the scratch you got on each finger."

"I did not scratch mine finger. I haf been shot mit der fingers. I shall draw more pensions, but I shall have mooch joy in seeing you hanged."

The soldiers, under whose charge the boys were being conducted to the place where they were to display their skill with the rifles, were laughing heartily at the impotent rage of the little sutler.