NNEngine/Gutenberg-Clean · Datasets at Hugging Face

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twg_000012937800	of the Valley. The tendencies had been there, of course; they came up like the flowers of spring, but each poor bloom as it appeared met an icy blast. The root beneath learned to send up to the sky a sturdier growth. Company A, 65th Virginia, numbered in its ranks men who knew all about log cabins. It was well	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937801	lodged, and the captain's hut did it credit. Richard Cleave and Allan, entering, found a fire, and Tullius nodding beside it. At their step he roused himself, rose, and put on another log. He was a negro of sixty years, tall and hale, a dignified master of foraging, a being simple and taciturn and strong, with a love for every	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937802	clod of earth at Three Oaks where he had been born. Cleave spoke. "Where is Lieutenant Breckinridge, Tullius?" Tullius straightened himself. "Lieutenant Breckinridge is at the colonel's, sah. An' Lieutenant Coffin, he's at the Debatin' Society in Company C." Cleave sat down before the pine table. "Give Allan Gold something to eat, and don't either of you speak to me	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937803	for twenty minutes." He propped his head on his hands and stared at the boards. Allan seated himself on a box beside the fire. Tullius took from a flat, heated stone a battered tin coffee-pot, poured into an earthenware cup some smoking mixture, and brought it to the scout. "Hit ain't moh'n half chicory, sah," From an impromptu cupboard he	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937804	brought a plate of small round cakes. "Mis' Miriam, she done mek 'em fer us." Cleave spoke from the table. His voice was dreamy, his eyes fixed upon the surface before him as though he were studying ocean depths. "Tullius, give me a dozen coffee berries." "Er _cup_ of coffee, you mean, Marse Dick?" "No, coffee berries. Haven't you any	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937805	there?" Tullius brought a small tin box, tilted it, and poured on the table something like the required number. "Thar's all thar is." He returned to his corner of the fire, and it purred and flamed upon the crazy hearth between him and the scout. The latter, his rifle across his knees, now watched the flames, now the man at	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937806	the table. Cleave had strung the coffee berries along a crack between the boards. Now he advanced one small brown object, now retired another, now crossed them from one side to the other. Following these manoeuvres, he sat with his chin upon his hand for five minutes, then began to make a circle with the berries. He worked slowly, dropping	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937807	point after point in place. The two ends met. He rose from the table. "That's all right. I am going to brigade headquarters for a little, Allan. Suppose you come along. There are some things I want to know--those signals, for instance." He took up his hat and sword. "Tullius, you'll have Dundee saddled at four o'clock. I'll see Lieutenant	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937808	Breckinridge and the colonel. I won't be back until after taps. Cover the fire, but wait up for me." He and Allan went out together. Tullius restored the coffee berries to the tin box, and the box to the cupboard, sat down by the fire, and fell again into a nodding dream of Three Oaks, of the garden, and of	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937809	his grandchildren in the quarter. LIEUTENANT McNEIL The Williamsport ferry-boat came slowly across the Potomac, from the Maryland to the Virginia side. The clear, deep water lay faintly blue beneath the winter sky, and the woods came so close that long branches of sycamore swept the flood. In that mild season every leaf had not fallen; up and down the	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937810	river here the dull red of an oak met the eye, and there the faded gold of a willow. The flatboat, a brown shadow beneath a creaking wire and pulley, came slowly to the southern side of the stream. The craft, squat to the water and railed on either side, was in the charge of an old negro. Clustered in	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937811	the middle of the boat appeared a tall Marylander in blue jeans, two soldiers in blue cloth, and a small darky in a shirt of blue gingham. All these stared at a few yards of Virginia road, shelving, and overarched by an oak that was yet touched with maroon, and stared at a horseman in high boots, a blue army	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937812	overcoat, and a blue and gold cap, who, mounted upon a great bay horse, was waiting at the water's edge. The boat crept into the shadow of the trees. One of the blue soldiers stood watchfully, his hands upon an Enfield rifle. The other, a middle-aged, weather-beaten sergeant-major who had been leaning against the rail, straightened himself and spoke, being	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937813	now within a few feet of the man on horseback. "Your signal was all right," he said. "And your coat's all right. But how did your coat get on this side of the river?" "It's been on this side for some time," explained the man on horseback, with a smile. "Ever since Uncle Sam presented it to me at Wheeling--and	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937814	that was before Bull Run." He addressed the negro. "Is this the fastest this boat can travel? I've been waiting here half an hour." The sergeant-major persisted. "Your coat's all right, and your signal's all right, and if it hadn't ha' been, our sharpshooters wouldn't ha' left much of you by now--Your coat's all right, and your signal's all right,	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937815	but I'm damned if your voice ain't Southern--" The head of the boat touched the shore and the dress of the horseman was seen more closely.--"Lieutenant," ended the speaker, with a change of tone. The rider, dismounting, led his horse down the yard or two of road and into the boat. "So, Dandy! Just think it's the South Branch, and	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937816	come on! Thirty miles since breakfast, and still so gaily!" Horse and man entered the boat, which moved out into the stream. "I was once," stated the sergeant-major, though still in the proper tone of respect toward a lieutenant, "I was once in Virginia for a month, down on the Pamunkey--and the people all said 'gaily.'" "They say it still,"	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937817	answered the rider. "Not so much, though, in my part of Virginia. It's Tuckahoe, not Cohee. I'm from the valley of the South Branch, between Romney and Moorefield." The heretofore silent blue soldier shifted his rifle. "What in hell--" he muttered. The sergeant-major looked at the Virginia shore, looked at the stranger, standing with his arm around his horse's neck,	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937818	and looked at the Williamsport landing, and the cannon frowning from Doubleday's Hill. In the back of his head there formed a little picture--a drumhead court-martial, a provost guard, a tree and a rope. Then came the hand of reason, and wiped the picture away. "Pshaw! spies don't _say_ they're Southern. And, by jiminy! one might smile with his lips,	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937819	but he couldn't smile with his eyes like that. And he's lieutenant, and there's such a thing, Tom Miller, as being too smart!--" He leaned upon the rail, and, being an observant fellow, he looked to see if the lieutenant's hand trembled at all where it lay upon the horse's neck. It did not; it rested as quiet as an	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937820	empty glove. The tall Marylander began to speak with a slow volubility. "There was a man from the Great Kanawha to Williamsport 't other day--a storekeeper--a big, fat man with a beard like Abraham's in the 'lustrated Bible. I heard him a-talking to the colonel. 'All the Union men in northwestern Virginia are on the Ohio side of the mountains,'	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937821	said he. 'Toward the Ohio we're all for the Union,' said he. 'There's more Northern blood than Southern in that section, anyway,' said he. 'But all this side of the Alleghenies is different, and as for the Valley of the South Branch--the Valley of the South Branch is a hotbed of rebels.' That's what he said--'a hotbed of rebels.' 'As	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937822	for the mountain folk in between,' he says, 'they hunt with guns, and the men in the valley hunt with dogs, and there ain't any love lost between them at the best of times. Then, too, it's the feud that settles it. If a mountain man's hereditary enemy names his baby Jefferson Davis, then the first man, he names his	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937823	Abraham Lincoln, and shoots at the other man from behind a bush. And _vice versa_. So it goes. But the valley of the South Branch is old stock,' he says, 'and a hotbed of rebels.'" "When it's taken by and large, that is true," said the horseman with coolness. "But there are exceptions to all rules, and there are some	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937824	Union men along the South Branch." He stroked his horse's neck. "So, Dandy! Aren't there exceptions to all rules?" "He's a plumb beauty, that horse," remarked the sergeant-major. "I don't ride much myself, but if I had a horse like that, and a straight road, and weather like this, I wouldn't ask any odds between here and Milikenville, Illinois! I	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937825	guess he's a jim dandy to travel, Lieutenant--" "McNeill," said the Virginian. "It is lovely weather. You don't often have a December like this in your part of the world." "No, we don't. And I only hope 't will last." "I hope it will," assented McNeill. "It's bad marching in bad weather." "I don't guess," said the sergeant-major, "that we'll	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937826	do much marching before springtime." "No, I reckon not," answered the man from the South Branch. "I came from Romney yesterday. General Kelly is letting the men build cabins there. That doesn't look like moving." "We're doing the same here," said the sergeant-major, "and they say that the army's just as cosy at Frederick as a bug in a rug.	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937827	Yes, sir; it's in the air that we'll give the rebels rope till springtime." The ferry-boat touched the northern bank. Here were a little, rocky shore, an expanse of swampy ground, a towpath, a canal, a road cut between two hills, and in the background a village with one or two church spires. The two hills were white with tents,	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937828	and upon the brow cannon were planted to rake the river. Here and there, between the river and the hills, were knots of blue soldiers. A freight boat loaded with hay passed snail-like down the canal. It was a splendid early afternoon, cool, still, and bright. The tall Marylander and the three blue soldiers left the boat, the man from	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937829	Romney leading his horse. "Where's headquarters?" he demanded. "I'll go report, and then get something to eat for both Dandy and myself. We've got to make Frederick City to-night." "The large wall tents over there on the hill," directed the sergeant-major. "It's a long way to Frederick, but Lord! with that horse--" He hesitated for a moment, then spoke up	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937830	in a courageous, middle-aged, weather-beaten fashion, "I hope you'll have a pleasant ride, lieutenant! I guess I was a little stiffer'n good manners calls for, just at first. You see there's been so much talk of--of--of _masquerading_--and your voice is Southern, if your politics ain't! 'T isn't my usual way." Lieutenant McNeill smiled. "I am sure of that, sergeant! As	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937831	you say, there has been a deal of masquerading, and this side of the river naturally looks askance at the other. But you see, General Kelly _is_ over there, and he happens, just now, to want to communicate with General Banks." His smile grew broader. "It's perfectly natural, but it's right hard on the man acting courier! Lord knows I	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937832	had trouble enough running Ashby's gauntlet without being fired on from this side!" "That's so! that's so!" answered the sergeant cordially. "Well, good luck to you getting back! You may find some friends here. We've a company or two of Virginians from the Ohio." General Kelly's messenger proceeded to climb the hill to the wall tents indicated. There was a	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937833	short delay, then he found himself in the presence of the colonel commanding at Williamsport. "From General Kelly at Romney? How did you get here?" "I left Romney, sir, yesterday morning, and I came by bridle paths through the mountains. I was sent because I have hunted over every mile of that country, and I could keep out of Ashby's	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937834	way. I struck the river above Bath, and I worked down through the woods to the ferry. I have a letter for General Banks." Drawing out a wallet, he opened it and handed to the other the missive in question. "If I was chased I was to destroy it before capture," he said. "The slip with it is a line	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937835	General Kelly gave me." The colonel commanding at Williamsport glanced at the latter document. "A native of the South Branch valley," he said crisply. "That's a disaffected region." "Yes, sir. It is. But there are one or two loyal families." "You wish to go on to Frederick this afternoon?" "Yes, sir. As soon as my horse is a little rested.	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937836	My orders are to use all dispatch back to Romney with General Banks's answer." The colonel, seated at a table, weighed General Kelly's letter in his hand, looked at the superscription, turned it over, and studied the seal. "Do the rebels on the other side show any signs of coming activity? Our secret service men have not been very successful--they	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937837	make statements that it is hard to credit. I should be glad of any reliable information. What did you see or hear coming through?" The lieutenant studied the floor a moment, shrugged, and spoke out. "Ashby's active enough, sir. Since yesterday I have just grazed three picket posts. He has vedettes everywhere. The report is that he has fifteen hundred	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937838	troopers--nearly all valley men, born to the saddle and knowing every crook and cranny of the land. They move like a whirlwind and deal in surprises-- The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold-- Only these cohorts are grey, not purple and gold. That's Ashby. On the other hand, Jackson at Winchester need not, perhaps, be taken into	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937839	account. The general impression is that he'll stay where he is until spring. I managed to extract some information from a mountain man above Sleepy Creek. Jackson is drilling his men from daylight until dark. It is said that he is crazy on the subject--on most subjects, in fact; that he thinks himself a Cromwell, and is bent upon turning	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937840	his troops into Ironsides. Of course, should General Banks make any movement to cross--preparatory, say, to joining with General Kelly--Jackson might swing out of Winchester and give him check. Otherwise, he'll probably keep on drilling--" "The winter's too far advanced," said the colonel, "for any such movement upon our part. As soon as it is spring we'll go over there	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937841	and trample out this rebellion." He weighed Kelly's letter once more in his hand, then restored it to the bearer. "It's all right, Lieutenant McNeill. I'll pass you through.--You read Byron?" "Yes," said Lieutenant McNeill briefly. "He's a great poet. 'Don Juan,' now, and Suvaroff at Ismail-- He made no answer, but he took the city. The bivouac, too, in	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937842	Mazeppa." He restored General Kelly's letter and the accompanying slip to his wallet. "Thank you, sir. If I am to make Frederick before bedtime I had better be going--" "An aide of General Banks," remarked the colonel, "is here, and is returning to Frederick this afternoon. He is an Englishman, I believe, of birth. You might ride together--Very opportunely; here	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937843	he is!" A tall, blond being, cap-a-pie for the road, had loomed in dark blue before the tent door. "Captain Marchmont," said the colonel, "let me make you acquainted with Lieutenant McNeill, a _loyal_ Virginian bearing a letter from General Kelly to General Banks--a gentleman with a taste, too, for your great poet Byron. As you are both riding to	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937844	Frederick, you may find it pleasant to ride in company." "I must ride rapidly," said McNeill, "but if Captain Marchmont--" "I always ride rapidly," answered the captain. "Learned it in Texas in . At your service, lieutenant, whenever you're ready." The road to Frederick lay clear over hill and dale, past forest and stream, through a gap in the mountain,	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937845	by mill and barn and farmhouse, straight through a number of miles of crystal afternoon. Out of Williamsport conversation began. "When you want a purchaser for that horse, I'm your man," said the aide. "By any chance, _do_ you want to sell?" McNeill laughed. "Not to-day, captain!" He stroked the brown shoulder. "Not to-day, Dun--Dandy!" "What's his name? Dundandy?" "No,"	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937846	replied the lieutenant. "Just Dandy. I'm rather fond of him. I think we'll see it out together." "Yes, they aren't bad comrades," said the other amicably. "In ', when I was with Lopez in Cuba, I had a little black mare that was just as well worth dying for as a woman or a man or most causes, but, damn	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937847	me! she died for me--carried me past a murderous ambuscade, got a bullet for her pains, and never dropped until she reached our camp!" He coughed. "What pleasant weather! Was it difficult getting through Jackson's lines?" "Yes, rather." They rode for a time in silence between fields of dead aster and goldenrod. "When I was in Italy with Garibaldi," said	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937848	Captain Marchmont thoughtfully, "I saw something of kinsmen divided in war. It looked a very unnatural thing. You're a Virginian, now?" "Yes, I am a Virginian." "And you are fighting against Virginia. Curious!" The other smiled. "To be where you are you must believe in the inviolability of the Union." "Oh, I?" answered Marchmont coolly. "I believe in it, of	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937849	course. I am fighting for it. It chanced, you see, that I was in France--and out of service and damnably out at elbows, too!--when Europe heard of Bull Run. I took passage at once in a merchant ship from Havre. It was my understanding that she was bound for New Orleans, but instead she put into Boston Harbour. I had	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937850	no marked preference, fighting being fighting under whatever banner it occurs, so the next day I offered my sword to the Governor of Massachusetts. North and South, they're none of mine. But were I in England--where I haven't been of late years--and a row turned up, I should fight with England." "No doubt," answered the other. "Your mind travels along	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937851	the broad and simple lines of the matter. But with us there are many subtle and intricate considerations." Passing now through woods they started a covey of partridges. The small brown and white shapes vanished in a skurry of dead leaves. "No doubt, no doubt!" said the soldier of fortune. "At any rate, I have rubbed off particularity in such	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937852	matters. Live and let live--and each man to run the great race according to his inner vision! If he really conflicts with me, I'll let him know it." They rode on, now talking, now silent. To either side, beyond stone walls, the fields ran bare and brown to distant woods. The shadow of the wayside trees grew longer and the	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937853	air more deep and cold. They passed a string of white-covered wagons bearing forage for the army. The sun touched the western hills, rimming them as with a forest fire. The horsemen entered a defile between the hills, travelled through twilight for a while, then emerged upon a world still softly lighted. "In the country at home," said the Englishman,	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937854	"the waits are practicing Christmas carols." "I wish," answered the Virginian, "that we had kept that old custom. I should like once to hear English carols sung beneath the windows on a snowy night." As he rode he began to sing aloud, in a voice not remarkable, but good enough to give pleasure-- "As Joseph was a-walking, He heard an	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937855	angel sing, 'This night shall be born Our Heavenly King--'" "Yes, I remember that one quite well," said Captain Marchmont, and proceeded to sing in an excellent bass,-- "He neither shall be born In housen nor in hall, Nor in the place of Paradise, But in an ox's stall-- "Do you know the next verse?" "Yes," said McNeill. "He neither	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937856	shall be clothed In purple nor in pall, But all in fair linen As are babies all!" "That's it," nodded the other. "And the next goes,-- "He neither shall be rocked In silver nor in gold But in a wooden cradle That rocks on the mould--" Alternately they sang the carol through. The sun went down, but the pink stayed	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937857	in the sky and was mirrored in a tranquil stream which they crossed. It faded at last into the quiet dusk. A cricket chirped from a field of dried Michaelmas daisies. They overtook and passed an infantry regiment, coming up, an officer told them, from Harper's Ferry. The night fell, cold and still, with many stars. "We are not far	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937858	from Frederick," said Marchmont. "You were never here before?" "No." "I'll take you at once to General Banks. You go back to Kelly at Romney to-morrow." "Just as soon as General Banks shall have answered General Kelly's letter." "You have an occasional fight over there?" "Yes, up and down the line. Ashby's command is rather active." "By George! I wish	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937859	I were returning with you! When you've reported I'll look after you if you'll allow me. Pleasant enough mess.--Major Hertz, whom I knew in Prussia, Captain Wingate of your old army and one or two others." "I'm exceedingly obliged," said McNeill, "but I have ridden hard of late, and slept little, and I should prove dull company. Moreover there's a	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937860	good priest in Frederick who is a friend of a friend of mine. I have a message for him, and if General Banks permits, I shall sleep soundly and quietly at his house to-night." "Very good," said Marchmont. "You'll get a better night there, though I'm sorry not to have you with us.--There are the lights of Frederick, and here's	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937861	the picket. You have your pass from Williamsport?" McNeill gave it to a blue soldier, who called a corporal, who read it by a swinging lantern. "Very good. Pass, Lieutenant McNeill." The two rode on. To left and right were lighted streets of tents, varied here and there by substantial cabins. Commissary quarters appeared, sutlers' shops, booths, places of entertainment,	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937862	guardhouses, a chapel. Soldiers were everywhere, dimly seen within the tents where the door flap was fastened back, plain to view about the camp-fires in open places, clustering like bees in the small squares from which ran the camp streets, thronging the trodden places before the sutlers, everywhere apparent in the foreground and divined in the distance. From somewhere came	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937863	the strains of "Yankee Doodle." A gust of wind blew out the folds of the stars and stripes, fastened above some regimental headquarters. The city of tents and of frame structures hasty and crude, of fires in open places, of sutlers' shops and cantines, and booths of strolling players, of chapels and hospitals, of fluttering flags and wandering music, of	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937864	restless blue soldiers, oscillating like motes in some searchlight of the giants, persisted for a long distance. At last it died away; there came a quiet field or two, then the old Maryland town of Frederick. "AS JOSEPH WAS A-WALKING" At eleven that night by the Frederick clocks an orderly found an Englishman, a Prussian, a New Yorker, and a	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937865	man from somewhere west of the Mississippi playing poker. "General Banks would like to speak to Captain Marchmont for a moment, sir." The aide laid down his cards, and adjusted his plumage before a long mirror. "Lieber Gott!" said Major Hertz, "I wish our general would go sleep and leafe us play the game." Captain Marchmont, proceeding to a handsomely	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937866	furnished apartment, knocked, entered, saluted, and was greeted by a general in a disturbed frame of mind. "Look here, captain, you rode from Williamsport with that fellow of Kelly's. Did you notice anything out of the usual?" The aide deliberated. "He had a splendid horse, sir. And the man himself seemed rather a mettled personage. If that's out of the	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937867	usual, I noticed that." "Oh, of course he's all right!" said the general. "Kelly's letter is perfectly _bona fide_, and so I make no doubt are McNeill's passport and paper of instructions. I gave the letter back or I'd show you the signatures. It's only that I got to thinking, awhile ago, after he'd gone." He took a turn across	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937868	the roses upon the carpet. "A man that's been in politics knows there are so many dodges. Our spies say that General Jackson is very acute. I got to thinking--" He came back to the red-covered table. "Did you talk of the military situation coming along?" "Very little, sir." "He wasn't inquisitive? Didn't criticise, or draw you on to talk--didn't	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937869	ask about my troops and my movements?" "He did not, sir." The general sighed. "It's all right, of course. You see, he seemed an intelligent man, and we got to talking. I wrote my answer to General Kelly. He has it now, is to start to Romney with it at dawn. Then I asked some questions, and we got to	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937870	talking. It's all straight, of course, but on looking back I find that I said some things. He seemed an intelligent man, and in his general's confidence. Well, I dismissed him at last, and he saluted and went off to get some rest before starting. And then, somehow, I got to thinking. I have never been South, and all these	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937871	places are only names to me, but--" He unrolled upon the table a map of large dimensions. "Look here a moment, captain! This is a map the department furnishes us. It's black, you see, for the utterly disloyal sections, shaded for the doubtful, and white where there are Unionists. All Virginia's black except this northwest section, and that's largely shaded."	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937872	"What," asked Marchmont, "is this long black patch in the midst of the shading?" "That's the valley of the South Branch of the Potomac--see, it's marked! Now, this man's from that locality." "H--m! Dark as Erebus, apparently, along the South Branch!" "Just so." General Banks paced again the roses. "Pshaw! It's all right. I never saw a straighter looking fellow.	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937873	I just thought I would ask you the nature of his talk along the road--" "It was hardly of military matters, sir. But if you wish to detain him--" "General Kelly must have my letter. I'm not to move, and it's important that he should know it." "Why not question him again?" The general came back to the big chair	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937874	beside the table. "I have no doubt he's as honest as I am." He looked at the clock. "After midnight!--and I've been reviewing troops all day. Do you think it's worth while, captain?" "In war very little things are worth while, sir." "But you were with him all afternoon, and he seemed perfectly all right--" "Yes, sir, I liked him	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937875	very well." He pulled at his long yellow moustache. "There was only one little circumstance.... If you are doubtful, sir--The papers, of course, might be forged." The late Governor of Massachusetts rested irresolute. "Except that he was born in Virginia there isn't a reason for suspecting him. And it's our policy to conciliate all this shaded corner up here." The	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937876	clock struck the half-hour. General Banks looked longingly toward his bedroom. "I've been through the mill to-day. It's pretty hard on a man, this working over time.--Where's he lodging?" "McNeill, sir? He said he would find quarters with some connection or other--a Catholic priest--" "A Catholic--There again!" The general looked perturbed. Rising, he took from a desk two or three	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937877	pages of blue official paper, covered with writing. "I got that from Washington to-day, from the Secret Service Department. Read it." Captain Marchmont read: "'Distrust without exception the Catholic priests in Frederick City. There is reason to believe that the Catholics throughout Maryland are Secessionists. Distrust all Maryland, in fact. The Jesuits have a house at Frederick City. They are	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937878	suspected of furnishing information. Keep them under such surveillance as your judgment shall indicate.'--Humph!" General Banks sighed, poured out something from a decanter, and drank it. "I guess, captain, you had better go and bring that man from the South Branch back here. Take a few men and do it quietly. He seems a gentleman, and there may be absolutely	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937879	nothing wrong. Tell him I've something to add to General Kelly's letter. Here's a list of the priests in Frederick. Father Tierney seems the most looked up to, and I gave him a subscription yesterday for his orphan asylum." Half an hour later Marchmont and two men found themselves before a small, square stone house, standing apart from its neighbours	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937880	in a small, square yard. From without the moonbeams flooded it, from within came no pinpoint of light. It was past the middle of the night, and almost all the town lay still and dark. Marchmont lifted the brass knocker and let it fall. The sound, deep and reverberant, should have reached every ear within, however inattentive. He waited, but	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937881	there came no answering footfall. He knocked again--no light nor sound; again--only interstellar quiet. He shook the door. "Go around to the back, Roberts, and see if you can get in." Roberts departed. Marchmont picked up some pieces of gravel from the path and threw them against the window panes, to no effect. Roberts came back. "That's an awful heavy	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937882	door, sir, heavier than this. And the windows are high up." "Very good," said the captain. "This one looks stronger than it really is. Stand back, you two." He put his shoulder to the door--"Wait a minute, sir! Somebody's lit a candle upstairs." The candle passed leisurely from window to window, was lost for a minute, and then, through a	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937883	small fan-light above the door, was observed descending the stairs. A bolt creaked, then another. The door opened, and Father Tierney, hastily gowned and blinking, stood before the invaders. He shaded his candle with his hand, and the light struck back, showing a strong and rosy and likable face. "Faith!" he said, "an' I thought I was after hearin' a	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937884	noise. Good-evenin', gentlemen--or rather good-morning, for it must be toward cockcrow. What--" "It's not so late as that," interrupted Marchmont. "I wish I had your recipe for sleeping, father. It would be invaluable when a man didn't want to be waked up. However, my business is not with you, but--" "Holy powers!" said Father Tierney, "did ye not know that	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937885	I live here by myself? Father Lavalle is at the other end of town, and Father O'Hara lives by the Noviciate. Sure, and any one could have told you--" "Father Lavalle and Father O'Hara," said the aide, "are nothing to the question. You have a guest with you--" Father Tierney looked enlightened. "Oh! Av coorse! There's always business on hand	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937886	between soldiers. Was it Lieutenant McNeill you'll be looking after?" Marchmont nodded. "There are some instructions that General Banks neglected to give him. It is late, but the general wishes to get it all straight before he sleeps. I am sorry to disturb Lieutenant McNeill, for he must be fatigued. But orders are orders, you know--" "Av coorse, av coorse!"	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937887	agreed Father Tierney. "'A man having authority,' 'I say unto this man, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh--'" "So, father, if you'll be good enough to explain to Lieutenant McNeill--or if you'll tell me which is his room--" The light of the candle showed a faint trouble in Father Tierney's face. "Sure, it's too bad!	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937888	Do you think, my son, the matter is of importance? 'T would be after being just a little left-over of directions?" "Perhaps," said Marchmont. "But orders are orders, father, and I must awaken Lieutenant McNeill. Indeed, it's hard to think that he's asleep--" "He isn't aslape." "Then will you be so good as to tell him--" "Indeed, and I wish	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937889	I could do that same thing, my son, but it isn't in nature--" General Banks's aide made a gesture of impatience. "I can't dawdle here any longer! Either you or I, father." He pushed into the hall. "Where is his room?" "Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Father Tierney. "It's vexed he'll be when he learns that the general wasn't done with him!	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937890	There's the room, captain darlint, but--" Marchmont's eyes followed the pointing of the candlestick. "There!" he exclaimed. The door was immediately upon the left, not five feet from the portal he had lately belaboured. "Then 't was against his window that I flung the gravel!" With an oath he crossed the hall and struck his hand against the panel indicated.	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937891	No answer. He knocked again with peremptoriness, then tried the door. It was unlocked, and opened quietly to his touch. All beyond was silent and dark. "Father Tierney, I'll thank you for that candle!" The priest gave it, and the aide held it up, displaying a chill and vacant chamber, furnished with monastic spareness. There was a narrow couch that	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937892	had been slept in. Marchmont crossed the bare floor, bent, and felt the bedclothing. "Quite cold. You've been gone some time, my friend. H--m! things look rather black for you!" Father Tierney spoke from the middle of the room. "It's sorry the lieutenant will be! Sure, and he thought he had the general's last word! 'Slape until you wake, my	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937893	son,' says I. 'Judy will give us breakfast at eight.' 'No, no, father,' says he. 'General Kelly is wearying for this letter from General Banks. If I get it through prompt it will be remembered for me,' he says. ''T will be a point toward promotion,' he says. 'My horse has had a couple of hours' rest, and he's a	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937894	Trojan beside,' he says. 'I'll sleep an hour myself, and then I'll be taking the road back to Romney. Ashby's over on the other side,' he says, 'and the sooner I get Ashby off my mind, the better pleased I'll be,' he says. And thereupon he slept for an hour--" Marchmont still regarded the bed. "I'll be damned if I	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937895	know, my friend, whether you're blue or grey! How long has he been gone?" Father Tierney pondered the question. "By the seven holy candles, my son, I was that deep asleep when you knocked that I don't rightly know the time of night! Maybe he has been gone an hour, maybe more--" "And how did he know the countersign?" "Faith,	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937896	and I understood that the general himself gave him the word--" "H--m!" said Marchmont, and tugged at his moustache. He stood in silence for a moment, then turned sharply. "Blue or grey, which? I'll be damned if I don't find out! Your horse may be a Trojan, my friend, but by this time he's a tired Trojan! Roberts!" "Yes, sir."	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937897	"You two go at once to headquarters' stables. Saddle my horse--not the black I rode yesterday--the fresh one, Caliph. Get your own horses. Double-quick now! Ten minutes is all I give you." The men departed. Marchmont stalked out of the chamber and to the open front door. Father Tierney, repossessed of the candle, followed him. "Sure, and the night's amazing	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937898	chill! By good luck, I've a fine old bottle or two--one of the brigadiers, that's a good son of the church, having sent me a present. Whist, captain! a little glass to cheer the heart av ye--" "I'll not stop now, father," said the aide dryly. "Perhaps, upon my return to Frederick I may call upon you." "Do so, do	60	gutenberg
twg_000012937899	so, my son," said Father Tierney. "And ye're going to overtake the lieutenant with the general's last words?--Faith, and while I think of it--he let drop that he'd be after not going by the pike. The old road by the forge, that goes south, and then turns. It's a dirt road, and easier on his horse, the poor crathur--" "Thanks.	60	gutenberg

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of the Valley. The tendencies had been there, of course; they came up like the flowers of spring, but each poor bloom as it appeared met an icy blast. The root beneath learned to send up to the sky a sturdier growth. Company A, 65th Virginia, numbered in its ranks men who knew all about log cabins. It was well

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lodged, and the captain's hut did it credit. Richard Cleave and Allan, entering, found a fire, and Tullius nodding beside it. At their step he roused himself, rose, and put on another log. He was a negro of sixty years, tall and hale, a dignified master of foraging, a being simple and taciturn and strong, with a love for every

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clod of earth at Three Oaks where he had been born. Cleave spoke. "Where is Lieutenant Breckinridge, Tullius?" Tullius straightened himself. "Lieutenant Breckinridge is at the colonel's, sah. An' Lieutenant Coffin, he's at the Debatin' Society in Company C." Cleave sat down before the pine table. "Give Allan Gold something to eat, and don't either of you speak to me

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for twenty minutes." He propped his head on his hands and stared at the boards. Allan seated himself on a box beside the fire. Tullius took from a flat, heated stone a battered tin coffee-pot, poured into an earthenware cup some smoking mixture, and brought it to the scout. "Hit ain't moh'n half chicory, sah," From an impromptu cupboard he

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brought a plate of small round cakes. "Mis' Miriam, she done mek 'em fer us." Cleave spoke from the table. His voice was dreamy, his eyes fixed upon the surface before him as though he were studying ocean depths. "Tullius, give me a dozen coffee berries." "Er _cup_ of coffee, you mean, Marse Dick?" "No, coffee berries. Haven't you any

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there?" Tullius brought a small tin box, tilted it, and poured on the table something like the required number. "Thar's all thar is." He returned to his corner of the fire, and it purred and flamed upon the crazy hearth between him and the scout. The latter, his rifle across his knees, now watched the flames, now the man at

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the table. Cleave had strung the coffee berries along a crack between the boards. Now he advanced one small brown object, now retired another, now crossed them from one side to the other. Following these manoeuvres, he sat with his chin upon his hand for five minutes, then began to make a circle with the berries. He worked slowly, dropping

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point after point in place. The two ends met. He rose from the table. "That's all right. I am going to brigade headquarters for a little, Allan. Suppose you come along. There are some things I want to know--those signals, for instance." He took up his hat and sword. "Tullius, you'll have Dundee saddled at four o'clock. I'll see Lieutenant

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Breckinridge and the colonel. I won't be back until after taps. Cover the fire, but wait up for me." He and Allan went out together. Tullius restored the coffee berries to the tin box, and the box to the cupboard, sat down by the fire, and fell again into a nodding dream of Three Oaks, of the garden, and of

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his grandchildren in the quarter. LIEUTENANT McNEIL The Williamsport ferry-boat came slowly across the Potomac, from the Maryland to the Virginia side. The clear, deep water lay faintly blue beneath the winter sky, and the woods came so close that long branches of sycamore swept the flood. In that mild season every leaf had not fallen; up and down the

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river here the dull red of an oak met the eye, and there the faded gold of a willow. The flatboat, a brown shadow beneath a creaking wire and pulley, came slowly to the southern side of the stream. The craft, squat to the water and railed on either side, was in the charge of an old negro. Clustered in

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the middle of the boat appeared a tall Marylander in blue jeans, two soldiers in blue cloth, and a small darky in a shirt of blue gingham. All these stared at a few yards of Virginia road, shelving, and overarched by an oak that was yet touched with maroon, and stared at a horseman in high boots, a blue army

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overcoat, and a blue and gold cap, who, mounted upon a great bay horse, was waiting at the water's edge. The boat crept into the shadow of the trees. One of the blue soldiers stood watchfully, his hands upon an Enfield rifle. The other, a middle-aged, weather-beaten sergeant-major who had been leaning against the rail, straightened himself and spoke, being

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now within a few feet of the man on horseback. "Your signal was all right," he said. "And your coat's all right. But how did your coat get on this side of the river?" "It's been on this side for some time," explained the man on horseback, with a smile. "Ever since Uncle Sam presented it to me at Wheeling--and

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that was before Bull Run." He addressed the negro. "Is this the fastest this boat can travel? I've been waiting here half an hour." The sergeant-major persisted. "Your coat's all right, and your signal's all right, and if it hadn't ha' been, our sharpshooters wouldn't ha' left much of you by now--Your coat's all right, and your signal's all right,

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but I'm damned if your voice ain't Southern--" The head of the boat touched the shore and the dress of the horseman was seen more closely.--"Lieutenant," ended the speaker, with a change of tone. The rider, dismounting, led his horse down the yard or two of road and into the boat. "So, Dandy! Just think it's the South Branch, and

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come on! Thirty miles since breakfast, and still so gaily!" Horse and man entered the boat, which moved out into the stream. "I was once," stated the sergeant-major, though still in the proper tone of respect toward a lieutenant, "I was once in Virginia for a month, down on the Pamunkey--and the people all said 'gaily.'" "They say it still,"

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answered the rider. "Not so much, though, in my part of Virginia. It's Tuckahoe, not Cohee. I'm from the valley of the South Branch, between Romney and Moorefield." The heretofore silent blue soldier shifted his rifle. "What in hell--" he muttered. The sergeant-major looked at the Virginia shore, looked at the stranger, standing with his arm around his horse's neck,

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and looked at the Williamsport landing, and the cannon frowning from Doubleday's Hill. In the back of his head there formed a little picture--a drumhead court-martial, a provost guard, a tree and a rope. Then came the hand of reason, and wiped the picture away. "Pshaw! spies don't _say_ they're Southern. And, by jiminy! one might smile with his lips,

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but he couldn't smile with his eyes like that. And he's lieutenant, and there's such a thing, Tom Miller, as being too smart!--" He leaned upon the rail, and, being an observant fellow, he looked to see if the lieutenant's hand trembled at all where it lay upon the horse's neck. It did not; it rested as quiet as an

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empty glove. The tall Marylander began to speak with a slow volubility. "There was a man from the Great Kanawha to Williamsport 't other day--a storekeeper--a big, fat man with a beard like Abraham's in the 'lustrated Bible. I heard him a-talking to the colonel. 'All the Union men in northwestern Virginia are on the Ohio side of the mountains,'

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said he. 'Toward the Ohio we're all for the Union,' said he. 'There's more Northern blood than Southern in that section, anyway,' said he. 'But all this side of the Alleghenies is different, and as for the Valley of the South Branch--the Valley of the South Branch is a hotbed of rebels.' That's what he said--'a hotbed of rebels.' 'As

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for the mountain folk in between,' he says, 'they hunt with guns, and the men in the valley hunt with dogs, and there ain't any love lost between them at the best of times. Then, too, it's the feud that settles it. If a mountain man's hereditary enemy names his baby Jefferson Davis, then the first man, he names his

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Abraham Lincoln, and shoots at the other man from behind a bush. And _vice versa_. So it goes. But the valley of the South Branch is old stock,' he says, 'and a hotbed of rebels.'" "When it's taken by and large, that is true," said the horseman with coolness. "But there are exceptions to all rules, and there are some

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Union men along the South Branch." He stroked his horse's neck. "So, Dandy! Aren't there exceptions to all rules?" "He's a plumb beauty, that horse," remarked the sergeant-major. "I don't ride much myself, but if I had a horse like that, and a straight road, and weather like this, I wouldn't ask any odds between here and Milikenville, Illinois! I

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guess he's a jim dandy to travel, Lieutenant--" "McNeill," said the Virginian. "It is lovely weather. You don't often have a December like this in your part of the world." "No, we don't. And I only hope 't will last." "I hope it will," assented McNeill. "It's bad marching in bad weather." "I don't guess," said the sergeant-major, "that we'll

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do much marching before springtime." "No, I reckon not," answered the man from the South Branch. "I came from Romney yesterday. General Kelly is letting the men build cabins there. That doesn't look like moving." "We're doing the same here," said the sergeant-major, "and they say that the army's just as cosy at Frederick as a bug in a rug.

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Yes, sir; it's in the air that we'll give the rebels rope till springtime." The ferry-boat touched the northern bank. Here were a little, rocky shore, an expanse of swampy ground, a towpath, a canal, a road cut between two hills, and in the background a village with one or two church spires. The two hills were white with tents,

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and upon the brow cannon were planted to rake the river. Here and there, between the river and the hills, were knots of blue soldiers. A freight boat loaded with hay passed snail-like down the canal. It was a splendid early afternoon, cool, still, and bright. The tall Marylander and the three blue soldiers left the boat, the man from

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Romney leading his horse. "Where's headquarters?" he demanded. "I'll go report, and then get something to eat for both Dandy and myself. We've got to make Frederick City to-night." "The large wall tents over there on the hill," directed the sergeant-major. "It's a long way to Frederick, but Lord! with that horse--" He hesitated for a moment, then spoke up

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in a courageous, middle-aged, weather-beaten fashion, "I hope you'll have a pleasant ride, lieutenant! I guess I was a little stiffer'n good manners calls for, just at first. You see there's been so much talk of--of--of _masquerading_--and your voice is Southern, if your politics ain't! 'T isn't my usual way." Lieutenant McNeill smiled. "I am sure of that, sergeant! As

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you say, there has been a deal of masquerading, and this side of the river naturally looks askance at the other. But you see, General Kelly _is_ over there, and he happens, just now, to want to communicate with General Banks." His smile grew broader. "It's perfectly natural, but it's right hard on the man acting courier! Lord knows I

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had trouble enough running Ashby's gauntlet without being fired on from this side!" "That's so! that's so!" answered the sergeant cordially. "Well, good luck to you getting back! You may find some friends here. We've a company or two of Virginians from the Ohio." General Kelly's messenger proceeded to climb the hill to the wall tents indicated. There was a

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short delay, then he found himself in the presence of the colonel commanding at Williamsport. "From General Kelly at Romney? How did you get here?" "I left Romney, sir, yesterday morning, and I came by bridle paths through the mountains. I was sent because I have hunted over every mile of that country, and I could keep out of Ashby's

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way. I struck the river above Bath, and I worked down through the woods to the ferry. I have a letter for General Banks." Drawing out a wallet, he opened it and handed to the other the missive in question. "If I was chased I was to destroy it before capture," he said. "The slip with it is a line

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General Kelly gave me." The colonel commanding at Williamsport glanced at the latter document. "A native of the South Branch valley," he said crisply. "That's a disaffected region." "Yes, sir. It is. But there are one or two loyal families." "You wish to go on to Frederick this afternoon?" "Yes, sir. As soon as my horse is a little rested.

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My orders are to use all dispatch back to Romney with General Banks's answer." The colonel, seated at a table, weighed General Kelly's letter in his hand, looked at the superscription, turned it over, and studied the seal. "Do the rebels on the other side show any signs of coming activity? Our secret service men have not been very successful--they

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make statements that it is hard to credit. I should be glad of any reliable information. What did you see or hear coming through?" The lieutenant studied the floor a moment, shrugged, and spoke out. "Ashby's active enough, sir. Since yesterday I have just grazed three picket posts. He has vedettes everywhere. The report is that he has fifteen hundred

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troopers--nearly all valley men, born to the saddle and knowing every crook and cranny of the land. They move like a whirlwind and deal in surprises-- The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold-- Only these cohorts are grey, not purple and gold. That's Ashby. On the other hand, Jackson at Winchester need not, perhaps, be taken into

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account. The general impression is that he'll stay where he is until spring. I managed to extract some information from a mountain man above Sleepy Creek. Jackson is drilling his men from daylight until dark. It is said that he is crazy on the subject--on most subjects, in fact; that he thinks himself a Cromwell, and is bent upon turning

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his troops into Ironsides. Of course, should General Banks make any movement to cross--preparatory, say, to joining with General Kelly--Jackson might swing out of Winchester and give him check. Otherwise, he'll probably keep on drilling--" "The winter's too far advanced," said the colonel, "for any such movement upon our part. As soon as it is spring we'll go over there

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and trample out this rebellion." He weighed Kelly's letter once more in his hand, then restored it to the bearer. "It's all right, Lieutenant McNeill. I'll pass you through.--You read Byron?" "Yes," said Lieutenant McNeill briefly. "He's a great poet. 'Don Juan,' now, and Suvaroff at Ismail-- He made no answer, but he took the city. The bivouac, too, in

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Mazeppa." He restored General Kelly's letter and the accompanying slip to his wallet. "Thank you, sir. If I am to make Frederick before bedtime I had better be going--" "An aide of General Banks," remarked the colonel, "is here, and is returning to Frederick this afternoon. He is an Englishman, I believe, of birth. You might ride together--Very opportunely; here

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he is!" A tall, blond being, cap-a-pie for the road, had loomed in dark blue before the tent door. "Captain Marchmont," said the colonel, "let me make you acquainted with Lieutenant McNeill, a _loyal_ Virginian bearing a letter from General Kelly to General Banks--a gentleman with a taste, too, for your great poet Byron. As you are both riding to

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Frederick, you may find it pleasant to ride in company." "I must ride rapidly," said McNeill, "but if Captain Marchmont--" "I always ride rapidly," answered the captain. "Learned it in Texas in . At your service, lieutenant, whenever you're ready." The road to Frederick lay clear over hill and dale, past forest and stream, through a gap in the mountain,

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by mill and barn and farmhouse, straight through a number of miles of crystal afternoon. Out of Williamsport conversation began. "When you want a purchaser for that horse, I'm your man," said the aide. "By any chance, _do_ you want to sell?" McNeill laughed. "Not to-day, captain!" He stroked the brown shoulder. "Not to-day, Dun--Dandy!" "What's his name? Dundandy?" "No,"

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replied the lieutenant. "Just Dandy. I'm rather fond of him. I think we'll see it out together." "Yes, they aren't bad comrades," said the other amicably. "In ', when I was with Lopez in Cuba, I had a little black mare that was just as well worth dying for as a woman or a man or most causes, but, damn

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me! she died for me--carried me past a murderous ambuscade, got a bullet for her pains, and never dropped until she reached our camp!" He coughed. "What pleasant weather! Was it difficult getting through Jackson's lines?" "Yes, rather." They rode for a time in silence between fields of dead aster and goldenrod. "When I was in Italy with Garibaldi," said

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Captain Marchmont thoughtfully, "I saw something of kinsmen divided in war. It looked a very unnatural thing. You're a Virginian, now?" "Yes, I am a Virginian." "And you are fighting against Virginia. Curious!" The other smiled. "To be where you are you must believe in the inviolability of the Union." "Oh, I?" answered Marchmont coolly. "I believe in it, of

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course. I am fighting for it. It chanced, you see, that I was in France--and out of service and damnably out at elbows, too!--when Europe heard of Bull Run. I took passage at once in a merchant ship from Havre. It was my understanding that she was bound for New Orleans, but instead she put into Boston Harbour. I had

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no marked preference, fighting being fighting under whatever banner it occurs, so the next day I offered my sword to the Governor of Massachusetts. North and South, they're none of mine. But were I in England--where I haven't been of late years--and a row turned up, I should fight with England." "No doubt," answered the other. "Your mind travels along

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the broad and simple lines of the matter. But with us there are many subtle and intricate considerations." Passing now through woods they started a covey of partridges. The small brown and white shapes vanished in a skurry of dead leaves. "No doubt, no doubt!" said the soldier of fortune. "At any rate, I have rubbed off particularity in such

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matters. Live and let live--and each man to run the great race according to his inner vision! If he really conflicts with me, I'll let him know it." They rode on, now talking, now silent. To either side, beyond stone walls, the fields ran bare and brown to distant woods. The shadow of the wayside trees grew longer and the

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air more deep and cold. They passed a string of white-covered wagons bearing forage for the army. The sun touched the western hills, rimming them as with a forest fire. The horsemen entered a defile between the hills, travelled through twilight for a while, then emerged upon a world still softly lighted. "In the country at home," said the Englishman,

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"the waits are practicing Christmas carols." "I wish," answered the Virginian, "that we had kept that old custom. I should like once to hear English carols sung beneath the windows on a snowy night." As he rode he began to sing aloud, in a voice not remarkable, but good enough to give pleasure-- "As Joseph was a-walking, He heard an

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angel sing, 'This night shall be born Our Heavenly King--'" "Yes, I remember that one quite well," said Captain Marchmont, and proceeded to sing in an excellent bass,-- "He neither shall be born In housen nor in hall, Nor in the place of Paradise, But in an ox's stall-- "Do you know the next verse?" "Yes," said McNeill. "He neither

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shall be clothed In purple nor in pall, But all in fair linen As are babies all!" "That's it," nodded the other. "And the next goes,-- "He neither shall be rocked In silver nor in gold But in a wooden cradle That rocks on the mould--" Alternately they sang the carol through. The sun went down, but the pink stayed

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in the sky and was mirrored in a tranquil stream which they crossed. It faded at last into the quiet dusk. A cricket chirped from a field of dried Michaelmas daisies. They overtook and passed an infantry regiment, coming up, an officer told them, from Harper's Ferry. The night fell, cold and still, with many stars. "We are not far

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from Frederick," said Marchmont. "You were never here before?" "No." "I'll take you at once to General Banks. You go back to Kelly at Romney to-morrow." "Just as soon as General Banks shall have answered General Kelly's letter." "You have an occasional fight over there?" "Yes, up and down the line. Ashby's command is rather active." "By George! I wish

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I were returning with you! When you've reported I'll look after you if you'll allow me. Pleasant enough mess.--Major Hertz, whom I knew in Prussia, Captain Wingate of your old army and one or two others." "I'm exceedingly obliged," said McNeill, "but I have ridden hard of late, and slept little, and I should prove dull company. Moreover there's a

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good priest in Frederick who is a friend of a friend of mine. I have a message for him, and if General Banks permits, I shall sleep soundly and quietly at his house to-night." "Very good," said Marchmont. "You'll get a better night there, though I'm sorry not to have you with us.--There are the lights of Frederick, and here's

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the picket. You have your pass from Williamsport?" McNeill gave it to a blue soldier, who called a corporal, who read it by a swinging lantern. "Very good. Pass, Lieutenant McNeill." The two rode on. To left and right were lighted streets of tents, varied here and there by substantial cabins. Commissary quarters appeared, sutlers' shops, booths, places of entertainment,

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guardhouses, a chapel. Soldiers were everywhere, dimly seen within the tents where the door flap was fastened back, plain to view about the camp-fires in open places, clustering like bees in the small squares from which ran the camp streets, thronging the trodden places before the sutlers, everywhere apparent in the foreground and divined in the distance. From somewhere came

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the strains of "Yankee Doodle." A gust of wind blew out the folds of the stars and stripes, fastened above some regimental headquarters. The city of tents and of frame structures hasty and crude, of fires in open places, of sutlers' shops and cantines, and booths of strolling players, of chapels and hospitals, of fluttering flags and wandering music, of

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restless blue soldiers, oscillating like motes in some searchlight of the giants, persisted for a long distance. At last it died away; there came a quiet field or two, then the old Maryland town of Frederick. "AS JOSEPH WAS A-WALKING" At eleven that night by the Frederick clocks an orderly found an Englishman, a Prussian, a New Yorker, and a

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man from somewhere west of the Mississippi playing poker. "General Banks would like to speak to Captain Marchmont for a moment, sir." The aide laid down his cards, and adjusted his plumage before a long mirror. "Lieber Gott!" said Major Hertz, "I wish our general would go sleep and leafe us play the game." Captain Marchmont, proceeding to a handsomely

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furnished apartment, knocked, entered, saluted, and was greeted by a general in a disturbed frame of mind. "Look here, captain, you rode from Williamsport with that fellow of Kelly's. Did you notice anything out of the usual?" The aide deliberated. "He had a splendid horse, sir. And the man himself seemed rather a mettled personage. If that's out of the

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usual, I noticed that." "Oh, of course he's all right!" said the general. "Kelly's letter is perfectly _bona fide_, and so I make no doubt are McNeill's passport and paper of instructions. I gave the letter back or I'd show you the signatures. It's only that I got to thinking, awhile ago, after he'd gone." He took a turn across

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the roses upon the carpet. "A man that's been in politics knows there are so many dodges. Our spies say that General Jackson is very acute. I got to thinking--" He came back to the red-covered table. "Did you talk of the military situation coming along?" "Very little, sir." "He wasn't inquisitive? Didn't criticise, or draw you on to talk--didn't

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ask about my troops and my movements?" "He did not, sir." The general sighed. "It's all right, of course. You see, he seemed an intelligent man, and we got to talking. I wrote my answer to General Kelly. He has it now, is to start to Romney with it at dawn. Then I asked some questions, and we got to

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talking. It's all straight, of course, but on looking back I find that I said some things. He seemed an intelligent man, and in his general's confidence. Well, I dismissed him at last, and he saluted and went off to get some rest before starting. And then, somehow, I got to thinking. I have never been South, and all these

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places are only names to me, but--" He unrolled upon the table a map of large dimensions. "Look here a moment, captain! This is a map the department furnishes us. It's black, you see, for the utterly disloyal sections, shaded for the doubtful, and white where there are Unionists. All Virginia's black except this northwest section, and that's largely shaded."

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"What," asked Marchmont, "is this long black patch in the midst of the shading?" "That's the valley of the South Branch of the Potomac--see, it's marked! Now, this man's from that locality." "H--m! Dark as Erebus, apparently, along the South Branch!" "Just so." General Banks paced again the roses. "Pshaw! It's all right. I never saw a straighter looking fellow.

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I just thought I would ask you the nature of his talk along the road--" "It was hardly of military matters, sir. But if you wish to detain him--" "General Kelly must have my letter. I'm not to move, and it's important that he should know it." "Why not question him again?" The general came back to the big chair

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beside the table. "I have no doubt he's as honest as I am." He looked at the clock. "After midnight!--and I've been reviewing troops all day. Do you think it's worth while, captain?" "In war very little things are worth while, sir." "But you were with him all afternoon, and he seemed perfectly all right--" "Yes, sir, I liked him

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very well." He pulled at his long yellow moustache. "There was only one little circumstance.... If you are doubtful, sir--The papers, of course, might be forged." The late Governor of Massachusetts rested irresolute. "Except that he was born in Virginia there isn't a reason for suspecting him. And it's our policy to conciliate all this shaded corner up here." The

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clock struck the half-hour. General Banks looked longingly toward his bedroom. "I've been through the mill to-day. It's pretty hard on a man, this working over time.--Where's he lodging?" "McNeill, sir? He said he would find quarters with some connection or other--a Catholic priest--" "A Catholic--There again!" The general looked perturbed. Rising, he took from a desk two or three

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pages of blue official paper, covered with writing. "I got that from Washington to-day, from the Secret Service Department. Read it." Captain Marchmont read: "'Distrust without exception the Catholic priests in Frederick City. There is reason to believe that the Catholics throughout Maryland are Secessionists. Distrust all Maryland, in fact. The Jesuits have a house at Frederick City. They are

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suspected of furnishing information. Keep them under such surveillance as your judgment shall indicate.'--Humph!" General Banks sighed, poured out something from a decanter, and drank it. "I guess, captain, you had better go and bring that man from the South Branch back here. Take a few men and do it quietly. He seems a gentleman, and there may be absolutely

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nothing wrong. Tell him I've something to add to General Kelly's letter. Here's a list of the priests in Frederick. Father Tierney seems the most looked up to, and I gave him a subscription yesterday for his orphan asylum." Half an hour later Marchmont and two men found themselves before a small, square stone house, standing apart from its neighbours

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in a small, square yard. From without the moonbeams flooded it, from within came no pinpoint of light. It was past the middle of the night, and almost all the town lay still and dark. Marchmont lifted the brass knocker and let it fall. The sound, deep and reverberant, should have reached every ear within, however inattentive. He waited, but

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there came no answering footfall. He knocked again--no light nor sound; again--only interstellar quiet. He shook the door. "Go around to the back, Roberts, and see if you can get in." Roberts departed. Marchmont picked up some pieces of gravel from the path and threw them against the window panes, to no effect. Roberts came back. "That's an awful heavy

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door, sir, heavier than this. And the windows are high up." "Very good," said the captain. "This one looks stronger than it really is. Stand back, you two." He put his shoulder to the door--"Wait a minute, sir! Somebody's lit a candle upstairs." The candle passed leisurely from window to window, was lost for a minute, and then, through a

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small fan-light above the door, was observed descending the stairs. A bolt creaked, then another. The door opened, and Father Tierney, hastily gowned and blinking, stood before the invaders. He shaded his candle with his hand, and the light struck back, showing a strong and rosy and likable face. "Faith!" he said, "an' I thought I was after hearin' a

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noise. Good-evenin', gentlemen--or rather good-morning, for it must be toward cockcrow. What--" "It's not so late as that," interrupted Marchmont. "I wish I had your recipe for sleeping, father. It would be invaluable when a man didn't want to be waked up. However, my business is not with you, but--" "Holy powers!" said Father Tierney, "did ye not know that

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I live here by myself? Father Lavalle is at the other end of town, and Father O'Hara lives by the Noviciate. Sure, and any one could have told you--" "Father Lavalle and Father O'Hara," said the aide, "are nothing to the question. You have a guest with you--" Father Tierney looked enlightened. "Oh! Av coorse! There's always business on hand

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between soldiers. Was it Lieutenant McNeill you'll be looking after?" Marchmont nodded. "There are some instructions that General Banks neglected to give him. It is late, but the general wishes to get it all straight before he sleeps. I am sorry to disturb Lieutenant McNeill, for he must be fatigued. But orders are orders, you know--" "Av coorse, av coorse!"

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agreed Father Tierney. "'A man having authority,' 'I say unto this man, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh--'" "So, father, if you'll be good enough to explain to Lieutenant McNeill--or if you'll tell me which is his room--" The light of the candle showed a faint trouble in Father Tierney's face. "Sure, it's too bad!

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Do you think, my son, the matter is of importance? 'T would be after being just a little left-over of directions?" "Perhaps," said Marchmont. "But orders are orders, father, and I must awaken Lieutenant McNeill. Indeed, it's hard to think that he's asleep--" "He isn't aslape." "Then will you be so good as to tell him--" "Indeed, and I wish

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I could do that same thing, my son, but it isn't in nature--" General Banks's aide made a gesture of impatience. "I can't dawdle here any longer! Either you or I, father." He pushed into the hall. "Where is his room?" "Holy Virgin!" exclaimed Father Tierney. "It's vexed he'll be when he learns that the general wasn't done with him!

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There's the room, captain darlint, but--" Marchmont's eyes followed the pointing of the candlestick. "There!" he exclaimed. The door was immediately upon the left, not five feet from the portal he had lately belaboured. "Then 't was against his window that I flung the gravel!" With an oath he crossed the hall and struck his hand against the panel indicated.

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No answer. He knocked again with peremptoriness, then tried the door. It was unlocked, and opened quietly to his touch. All beyond was silent and dark. "Father Tierney, I'll thank you for that candle!" The priest gave it, and the aide held it up, displaying a chill and vacant chamber, furnished with monastic spareness. There was a narrow couch that

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had been slept in. Marchmont crossed the bare floor, bent, and felt the bedclothing. "Quite cold. You've been gone some time, my friend. H--m! things look rather black for you!" Father Tierney spoke from the middle of the room. "It's sorry the lieutenant will be! Sure, and he thought he had the general's last word! 'Slape until you wake, my

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son,' says I. 'Judy will give us breakfast at eight.' 'No, no, father,' says he. 'General Kelly is wearying for this letter from General Banks. If I get it through prompt it will be remembered for me,' he says. ''T will be a point toward promotion,' he says. 'My horse has had a couple of hours' rest, and he's a

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Trojan beside,' he says. 'I'll sleep an hour myself, and then I'll be taking the road back to Romney. Ashby's over on the other side,' he says, 'and the sooner I get Ashby off my mind, the better pleased I'll be,' he says. And thereupon he slept for an hour--" Marchmont still regarded the bed. "I'll be damned if I

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know, my friend, whether you're blue or grey! How long has he been gone?" Father Tierney pondered the question. "By the seven holy candles, my son, I was that deep asleep when you knocked that I don't rightly know the time of night! Maybe he has been gone an hour, maybe more--" "And how did he know the countersign?" "Faith,

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and I understood that the general himself gave him the word--" "H--m!" said Marchmont, and tugged at his moustache. He stood in silence for a moment, then turned sharply. "Blue or grey, which? I'll be damned if I don't find out! Your horse may be a Trojan, my friend, but by this time he's a tired Trojan! Roberts!" "Yes, sir."

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"You two go at once to headquarters' stables. Saddle my horse--not the black I rode yesterday--the fresh one, Caliph. Get your own horses. Double-quick now! Ten minutes is all I give you." The men departed. Marchmont stalked out of the chamber and to the open front door. Father Tierney, repossessed of the candle, followed him. "Sure, and the night's amazing

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chill! By good luck, I've a fine old bottle or two--one of the brigadiers, that's a good son of the church, having sent me a present. Whist, captain! a little glass to cheer the heart av ye--" "I'll not stop now, father," said the aide dryly. "Perhaps, upon my return to Frederick I may call upon you." "Do so, do

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so, my son," said Father Tierney. "And ye're going to overtake the lieutenant with the general's last words?--Faith, and while I think of it--he let drop that he'd be after not going by the pike. The old road by the forge, that goes south, and then turns. It's a dirt road, and easier on his horse, the poor crathur--" "Thanks.

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