The Red Acorn [111]
which he hastily divided with his comrades. "Right dress. Right face, forward, file right--march!"
"If there is anything that I despise, it's disturbing a gentleman at his meals," said Kent, giving the fire a spiteful kick, as he tucked the bread under his lame arm, took his musket in his other hand, and started off in the rear of the regiment, accompanied by the purblind Abe.
Rachel's heart sank, as she saw them move off, but it rose again when the firing died down as suddenly as it had flamed up.
Soon Dr. Denslow took the wagon off to a cabin on a high bank of Stone River, which he was using as a hospital.
She called some question to him, as he turned away to direct the preparation of the flour into food for his patients, when some one cried out from the interior of the cabin:
"Rachel Bond! Is that you? Come in heah, honey."
She entered, and found Aunt Debby lying on the rude bed of the former inhabitants of the cabin.
"O my love--my darling--my honey, is that you?" said the elderly woman, with streaming eyes, reaching out her thin arms to take Rachel to her heart. "I never expected ter see ye ag'in! But God is good."
"Aunt Debby, is it possible? Are you hurt, dear?"
"No, not hurt child; on'y killed," she answered with a sweet radiance on her face.
"Killed? It is not possible."
"Yes, honey, it is possible. It is true. The gates open for me at last."
"How did it happen?"
"I got through Breckenridge's lines all right, an' reached the river, but thar was a picket thar, hid behind a tree, and ez he heered my hoss's feet splash in the ford, he shot me through the back. An' I didn't get through in time," she added, with the first shade of melancholy that had yet appeared in her face. "Did YOU?"
"No, I was too late, too."
"An' Jim must've been, too. Hev ye seed him any whar?"
"No," said Rachel, unable to restrain her tears.
"Now, honey, don't cry for me--don't," said Aunt Debby, pulling the young face down to where she could kiss it. "Hit's jest ez I want hit. On'y let me know thet Bragg is whipt, an' I die happy."
All day Thursday the two bruised armies lay and confronted each other, as two bulldogs, which have torn and mangled one another, will stop for a few minutes, to lick their hurts and glare their hatred, while they regain breath to carry on the fight.
Friday morning it was the same, but there was a showing of teeth and a rising fierceness as the day grew older, which was very portentous.
While standing at the door of the cabin Rachel had seen Harry Glen march down the bank at the head of the regiment, and cross the ford to the heights in front of Breckenridge. She picked up a field-glass that lay on a shelf near, and followed the movements of the force the regiment had joined.
"What d' ye see, honey?" called out Aunt Debby. She was becoming very fearful that she would die before the victory was won.
"Our people," answered Rachel, "seem to be concentrating in front of Breckenridge. There must be a division over there. Breckenridge sees it, and his cannon are firing at our men. He is bringing men up at the double quick." She stopped, for a spasm of fear in regard to Harry choked her.
"Go on, honey. What are they doing now?"
"Our men have formed a long line, reaching from the river up to the woods. They begin to march forward. Breckenridge opens more guns. They cut lanes through them. Now the infantry begins firing. A cloud of smoke settles down and hides both sides. I can see no more. O my God, our men are running. The whole line comes back out of the smoke, with men dropping at every step. If Harry were only safely out of there, I'd give my life."
Aunt Debby groaned. "Look again, honey," she said after a moment's pause.
"It's worse than ever. Breckenridge's men are swarming out of their works. There seems to be a myriad of them. They cover the whole hillside until I can not see the ground. They yell like demons, and drive our men down into the river. They follow them to the water's edge and shoot them down
"If there is anything that I despise, it's disturbing a gentleman at his meals," said Kent, giving the fire a spiteful kick, as he tucked the bread under his lame arm, took his musket in his other hand, and started off in the rear of the regiment, accompanied by the purblind Abe.
Rachel's heart sank, as she saw them move off, but it rose again when the firing died down as suddenly as it had flamed up.
Soon Dr. Denslow took the wagon off to a cabin on a high bank of Stone River, which he was using as a hospital.
She called some question to him, as he turned away to direct the preparation of the flour into food for his patients, when some one cried out from the interior of the cabin:
"Rachel Bond! Is that you? Come in heah, honey."
She entered, and found Aunt Debby lying on the rude bed of the former inhabitants of the cabin.
"O my love--my darling--my honey, is that you?" said the elderly woman, with streaming eyes, reaching out her thin arms to take Rachel to her heart. "I never expected ter see ye ag'in! But God is good."
"Aunt Debby, is it possible? Are you hurt, dear?"
"No, not hurt child; on'y killed," she answered with a sweet radiance on her face.
"Killed? It is not possible."
"Yes, honey, it is possible. It is true. The gates open for me at last."
"How did it happen?"
"I got through Breckenridge's lines all right, an' reached the river, but thar was a picket thar, hid behind a tree, and ez he heered my hoss's feet splash in the ford, he shot me through the back. An' I didn't get through in time," she added, with the first shade of melancholy that had yet appeared in her face. "Did YOU?"
"No, I was too late, too."
"An' Jim must've been, too. Hev ye seed him any whar?"
"No," said Rachel, unable to restrain her tears.
"Now, honey, don't cry for me--don't," said Aunt Debby, pulling the young face down to where she could kiss it. "Hit's jest ez I want hit. On'y let me know thet Bragg is whipt, an' I die happy."
All day Thursday the two bruised armies lay and confronted each other, as two bulldogs, which have torn and mangled one another, will stop for a few minutes, to lick their hurts and glare their hatred, while they regain breath to carry on the fight.
Friday morning it was the same, but there was a showing of teeth and a rising fierceness as the day grew older, which was very portentous.
While standing at the door of the cabin Rachel had seen Harry Glen march down the bank at the head of the regiment, and cross the ford to the heights in front of Breckenridge. She picked up a field-glass that lay on a shelf near, and followed the movements of the force the regiment had joined.
"What d' ye see, honey?" called out Aunt Debby. She was becoming very fearful that she would die before the victory was won.
"Our people," answered Rachel, "seem to be concentrating in front of Breckenridge. There must be a division over there. Breckenridge sees it, and his cannon are firing at our men. He is bringing men up at the double quick." She stopped, for a spasm of fear in regard to Harry choked her.
"Go on, honey. What are they doing now?"
"Our men have formed a long line, reaching from the river up to the woods. They begin to march forward. Breckenridge opens more guns. They cut lanes through them. Now the infantry begins firing. A cloud of smoke settles down and hides both sides. I can see no more. O my God, our men are running. The whole line comes back out of the smoke, with men dropping at every step. If Harry were only safely out of there, I'd give my life."
Aunt Debby groaned. "Look again, honey," she said after a moment's pause.
"It's worse than ever. Breckenridge's men are swarming out of their works. There seems to be a myriad of them. They cover the whole hillside until I can not see the ground. They yell like demons, and drive our men down into the river. They follow them to the water's edge and shoot them down