The Guns of Bull Run [104]
takin' no part in this war. They've got to fight it as best they kin without me. I'm jest an innercent charcoal burner, 'bout the most innercent that ever lived, I guess, but atween you an' me, Johnny Reb, my feelin's lean the way my state, Old Virginny, leans, that is, to the South, which I reckon is lucky fur you."
Harry saw that the man had blue eyes and he saw, too, that they were twinkling. He knew with infallible instinct that he was honest and truthful.
"It's true," he said. "I'm a Southern soldier, and I'm in your hands."
"I see that you trust me, an' I think I kin trust you. Jest you wait 'til I put that hoss o' yourn in the lean-to behind the cabin."
He darted out of the door and returned in a minute shaking the water from his body.
"That hoss feels better already," he said, "an' you will, too, soon. Now, I shet this door, then I kindle up the fire ag'in, then you take off your clothes an' put them an' yo'self afore the blaze. In time you an' your clothes are all dry."
The man's manner was all kindness, and the poor little cabin had become a palace. He blew at the coals, threw on dry pine knots, and in a few minutes the flames roared up the chimney.
Harry took off his wet clothing, hung it on two cane chairs before the fire and then proceeded to roast himself. Warmth poured back into his body and the cold left his bones. Despite his remonstrances, Perkins took a pot out of his cupboard and made coffee. Harry drank two cups of it, and he knew now that the danger of chill, to be followed by fever, was gone.
"Mr. Perkins," he said at length, "you are an angel."
Perkins laughed.
"Mebbe I air," he said, "but I 'low I don't look like one. Guess ef I went up an' tried to j'in the real angels Gabriel would say, 'Go back, Seth Perkins, an' improve yo'self fur four or five thousand years afore you try to keep comp'ny like ours.' But now, Johnny Reb, sence you're feelin' a heap better you might tell what you wuz tryin' to do, prowlin' roun' in these woods at sech a time."
"I meant to go behind the Yankee army, see what reinforcements were coming up, find out their plans, if I could, and report to our general."
Perkins whistled softly.
"Say," he said, "you look like a boy o' sense. What are you wastin' your time in little things fur? Couldn't you find somethin' bigger an' a heap more dangerous that would stir you up an' give you action?"
Harry laughed.
"I was set to do this task, Mr. Perkins," he said, "and I mean to do it."
"That shows good sperrit, but ef I wuz set to do it I wouldn't. Do you know whar you are an' what's around you, Johnny Reb?"
"No, I don't."
"Wa'al, you're right inside o' the Union lines. The armies o' Patterson an' McDowell hem in all this forest, an' I reckon mebbe it wuz a good thing fur you that the storm came up an' you got past in it. Wuz you expectin', Johnny Reb, to ride right into the Yankee pickets with that Confedrit uniform on?"
"I don't know exactly what I intended to do. I meant to see in the morning. I didn't know I was so far inside their lines."
"You know it now, an' if you're boun' to do what you say you're settin' out to do, then you've got to change clothes. Here, I'll take these an' hide 'em."
He snatched Harry's uniform from the chair, ran up a ladder into a little room under the eaves, and returned with some rough garments under his arm.
"These are my Sunday clothes," he said. "You're pow'ful big fur your years, an' they'll come purty nigh fittin' you. Leastways, they'll fit well enough fur sech times ez these. Now you wear 'em, ef you put any value on your life."
Harry hesitated. He wished to go as a scout, and not as a spy. Clothes could not change a man, but they could change his standing. Yet the words of Perkins were obviously true. But he would not go back. He must do his task.
"I'll take your clothes on one condition, Mr. Perkins," he said, "you must let me pay for them."
"Will it make you feel better to do so?"
"A great deal better."
"All right, then."
Harry took
Harry saw that the man had blue eyes and he saw, too, that they were twinkling. He knew with infallible instinct that he was honest and truthful.
"It's true," he said. "I'm a Southern soldier, and I'm in your hands."
"I see that you trust me, an' I think I kin trust you. Jest you wait 'til I put that hoss o' yourn in the lean-to behind the cabin."
He darted out of the door and returned in a minute shaking the water from his body.
"That hoss feels better already," he said, "an' you will, too, soon. Now, I shet this door, then I kindle up the fire ag'in, then you take off your clothes an' put them an' yo'self afore the blaze. In time you an' your clothes are all dry."
The man's manner was all kindness, and the poor little cabin had become a palace. He blew at the coals, threw on dry pine knots, and in a few minutes the flames roared up the chimney.
Harry took off his wet clothing, hung it on two cane chairs before the fire and then proceeded to roast himself. Warmth poured back into his body and the cold left his bones. Despite his remonstrances, Perkins took a pot out of his cupboard and made coffee. Harry drank two cups of it, and he knew now that the danger of chill, to be followed by fever, was gone.
"Mr. Perkins," he said at length, "you are an angel."
Perkins laughed.
"Mebbe I air," he said, "but I 'low I don't look like one. Guess ef I went up an' tried to j'in the real angels Gabriel would say, 'Go back, Seth Perkins, an' improve yo'self fur four or five thousand years afore you try to keep comp'ny like ours.' But now, Johnny Reb, sence you're feelin' a heap better you might tell what you wuz tryin' to do, prowlin' roun' in these woods at sech a time."
"I meant to go behind the Yankee army, see what reinforcements were coming up, find out their plans, if I could, and report to our general."
Perkins whistled softly.
"Say," he said, "you look like a boy o' sense. What are you wastin' your time in little things fur? Couldn't you find somethin' bigger an' a heap more dangerous that would stir you up an' give you action?"
Harry laughed.
"I was set to do this task, Mr. Perkins," he said, "and I mean to do it."
"That shows good sperrit, but ef I wuz set to do it I wouldn't. Do you know whar you are an' what's around you, Johnny Reb?"
"No, I don't."
"Wa'al, you're right inside o' the Union lines. The armies o' Patterson an' McDowell hem in all this forest, an' I reckon mebbe it wuz a good thing fur you that the storm came up an' you got past in it. Wuz you expectin', Johnny Reb, to ride right into the Yankee pickets with that Confedrit uniform on?"
"I don't know exactly what I intended to do. I meant to see in the morning. I didn't know I was so far inside their lines."
"You know it now, an' if you're boun' to do what you say you're settin' out to do, then you've got to change clothes. Here, I'll take these an' hide 'em."
He snatched Harry's uniform from the chair, ran up a ladder into a little room under the eaves, and returned with some rough garments under his arm.
"These are my Sunday clothes," he said. "You're pow'ful big fur your years, an' they'll come purty nigh fittin' you. Leastways, they'll fit well enough fur sech times ez these. Now you wear 'em, ef you put any value on your life."
Harry hesitated. He wished to go as a scout, and not as a spy. Clothes could not change a man, but they could change his standing. Yet the words of Perkins were obviously true. But he would not go back. He must do his task.
"I'll take your clothes on one condition, Mr. Perkins," he said, "you must let me pay for them."
"Will it make you feel better to do so?"
"A great deal better."
"All right, then."
Harry took