The Scouts of Stonewall: The Story of the Great Valley Campaign. Altsheler Joseph Alexander
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whispering in the ranks of Jackson’s men. Nothing was heard but the steady beat of marching feet, and now and then, the low command of an officer. But such commands were few. There were no more stragglers, and the chief himself rode at their head. They knew how to follow.
The moon faded and many of the stars went back into infinite space. A dusky film was drawn across the sky, and at a distance the fields and forest blended into one great shadow. Harry looked back at the brigade which wound in a long dark coil among the trees. He could not see faces of the men now, only the sinuous black shape of illimitable length that their solid lines made.
This long black shape moved fast, and occasionally it gave forth a sinister glitter, as stray moonbeams fell upon blade or bayonet. It seemed to Harry that there was something deadly and inevitable about it, and he began to feel sorry for the Union troops who were besieging the village and who did not know that Stonewall Jackson was coming.
He cast a sidelong glance at the leader. He rode, leaning a little further forward in the saddle than usual, and the wintry blue eyes gazed steadily before him. Harry knew that they missed nothing.
“You are sure that we are on the right road, Mr. Kenton?” said Jackson.
“Quite sure of it, sir.”
The general did not speak again for some time. Then, when he caught the faint glimmer of water through the dark, he said:
“This is the creek, is it not?”
“Yes, sir, and the Yankees can’t be more than a mile away.”
“And it’s a full hour until dawn. The reinforcements for the enemy cannot have come up. Lieutenant Kenton, I wish you to stay with me. I will have a messenger tell Colonel Talbot that for the present you are detached for my service.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Harry.
“Why?”
“I wish to see how you crumple up the enemy.”
The cold blue eyes gleamed for a moment. Harry more than guessed the depths of passion and resolve that lay behind the impenetrable mask of Jackson’s face. He felt again the rays of the white, hot fire that burned in the great Virginian’s soul.
A few hundred yards further and the brigade began to spread out in the dusk. Companies filed off to right and left, and in a few minutes came shots from the pickets, sounding wonderfully clear and sharp in the stillness of the night. Red dots from the rifle muzzles appeared here and there in the woods, and then Harry caught the glint of late starshine on the eaves of the warehouse.
Jackson drew his horse a little to one side of the road, and Harry, obedient to orders, followed him. A regiment massed directly behind them drew up close. Harry saw that it was his own Invincibles. There were Colonel Leonidas Talbot and Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire on horseback, looking very proud and eager. Further away were Langdon and St. Clair also mounted, but Harry could not see the expression on their faces.
“Tell Colonel Talbot to have the charge sounded and then to attack with all his might,” said Jackson to his young aide.
Harry carried the order eagerly and rejoined the general at once. The drums of the Invincibles beat the charge, and on both sides of them the drums of other regiments played the same tune. Then the drum-beat was lost in that wild and thrilling shout, the rebel yell, more terrible than the war-whoop of the Indians, and the whole brigade rushed forward in a vast half-circle that enclosed the village between the two horns of the curve.
The scattered firing of the pickets was lost in the great shout of the South, and, by the time the Northern sentinels could give the alarm to their main body, the rush of Jackson’s men was upon them, clearing out the woods and fields in a few instants and driving the Union horsemen in swift flight northward.
Harry kept close to his general. He saw a spark of fire shoot from the blue eye, and the nostrils expand. Then the mask became as impenetrable as ever. He let the reins fall on the neck of Little Sorrel, and watched his men as they swept into the open, passed the warehouse, and followed the enemy into the forest beyond.
But the bugles quickly sounded the recall. It was not Jackson’s purpose to waste his men in frays which could produce little. The pursuing regiments returned reluctantly to the open where the inhabitants of the village were welcoming Jackson with great rejoicings. The encounter had been too swift and short to cause great loss, but all the stores were saved and Captain Sherburne and Captain McGee rode forward to salute their commander.
“You made a good defense,” said Stonewall Jackson, crisply and briefly. “We begin the removal of the stores at once. Wagons will come up shortly for that purpose. Take your cavalry, Captain Sherburne, and scout the country. If they need sleep they can get it later when there is nothing else to do.”
Captain Sherburne saluted and Harry saw his face flush with pride. The indomitable spirit of Jackson was communicated fast to all his men. The sentence to more work appealed to Sherburne with much greater force than the sentence of rest could have done. In a moment he and his men were off, searching the woods and fields in the direction of the Union camp.
“Ride back on the road, Lieutenant Kenton, and tell the wagons to hurry,” said General Jackson to Harry. “Before I left Winchester I gave orders for them to follow, and we must not waste time here.”
“Yes, sir,” said Harry, as he turned and rode into the forest through which they had come. He, too, felt the same emotion that had made the face of Sherburne flush with pride. What were sleep and rest to a young soldier, following a man who carried victory in the hollow of his hand; not the victory of luck or chance, but the victory of forethought, of minute preparation, and of courage.
He galloped fast, and the hard road gave back the ring of steel shod hoofs. A silver streak showed in the eastern sky. The dawn was breaking. He increased his pace. The woods and fields fled by. Then he heard the cracking of whips, and the sound of voices urging on reluctant animals. Another minute and the long line of wagons was in sight straining along the road.
“Hurry up!” cried Harry to the leader who drove, bareheaded.
“Has Old Jack finished the job?” asked the man.
“Yes.”
“How long did it take him?”
“About five minutes.”
“I win,” called the man to the second driver just behind him. “You ‘lowed it would take him ten minutes, but I said not more’n seven at the very furthest.”
The train broke into a trot, and Harry, turning his horse, rode by the side of the leader.
“How did you know that it would take General Jackson so little time to scatter the enemy?” the boy asked the man.
“‘Cause I know Old Jack.”
“But he has not yet done much in independent command.”
“No, but I’ve seen him gettin’ ready, an’ I’ve watched him. He sees everything, an’ he prays. I tell you he prays. I ain’t a prayin’ man myself. But when a man kneels down in the bushes an’ talks humble an’ respectful to his God, an’ then rises up an’ jumps at the enemy, it’s time for that enemy to run. I’d rather be attacked by the worst bully and desperado that ever lived than by a prayin’ man. You see, I want to live, an’ what chance have I got ag’in a man that’s not only not afraid to die, but that’s willin’ to die, an’ rather glad to die, knowin’ that he’s goin’ straight to Heaven an’ eternal joy? I tell you, young man, that unbelievers ain’t ever got any chance against believers; no, not in nothin’.”
“I believe you’re right.”
“Right! Of course I’m right! Why did Old Jack order these waggins to come along an’ get them stores? ‘Cause he believed he was goin’ to save ‘em. An’ mebbe he saved ‘em, ‘cause he believed he was goin’ to do it. It works both ways. Git up!”
The shout of “Git up!” was to his horses, which added a little more to their pace, and now Harry saw troops coming back to meet them and form an escort.
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