Chapter 8. The Messenger From Richmond

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_ CHAPTER VIII. THE MESSENGER FROM RICHMOND

It seemed that Dick and his comrades were to see an activity in the valley under Sheridan much like that which Harry and his friends had experienced under Stonewall Jackson earlier in the war. All of the men before they went to sleep that night had felt confirmed in the belief that a strong hand was over them, and that a powerful and clear mind was directing them. There would be no more prodigal waste of men and supplies. No more would a Southern general have an opportunity to beat scattered forces in detail. The Union had given Sheridan a splendid army and a splendid equipment, and he would make the most of both.

Their belief in Sheridan's activity and energy was justified fully, perhaps to their own discomfort, as the trumpets sounded before dawn, and they ate a hasty breakfast, while the valley was yet dark. Then they were ordered to saddle and ride at once.

"What, so early?" exclaimed Pennington. "Why, it's not daylight yet. Isn't this new general of ours overdoing it?"

"We wanted a general who would lead," said Warner, "and we've got him."

"But a battle a day! Isn't that too large an allowance?"

"No. We've a certain number of battles to fight, and the sooner we fight them the sooner the war will be over."

"Here comes the dawn," said Dick, "and the bugles are singing to us to march. It's the cavalry that are to show the way."

The long line of horsemen rode on southward, leaving behind them Winchester, the little city that had been beloved of Jackson, and approached the Massanuttons, the bold range that for a while divided the valley into two parts. The valley was twenty miles wide before they came to the Massanuttons, but after the division the western extension for some distance was not more than four miles across, and it was here that they were going. At the narrower part, on Fisher's Hill, Early had strong fortifications, defended by his finest infantry, and Colonel Winchester did not deem it likely that Sheridan would make a frontal attack upon a position so well defended.

It was about noon when the cavalry arrived before the Southern works. Dick, through his glasses, clearly saw the guns and columns of infantry, and also a body of Southern horse, drawn up on one flank of the hill. He fancied that the Invincibles were among them, but at the distance he could not pick them from the rest.

The regiment remained stationary, awaiting the orders of Sheridan, and Dick still used his glasses. He swept them again and again across the Confederate lines, and then he turned his attention to the mountains which here hemmed in the valley to such a straitened width. He saw a signal station of the enemy on a culminating ridge called Three Top Mountain, and as the flags there were waving industriously he knew that every movement of the Union army would be communicated to Early's troops below.

Yet the whole scene despite the fact that it was war, red war, appealed to Dick's sense of the romantic and beautiful. The fertile valley looked picturesque with its woods and fields, and on either side rose the ranges as if to protect it. Mountains like trees always appealed to him, and the steep slopes were wooded densely. Lower down they were brown, with touches of green that yet lingered, but higher up the glowing reds and golds of autumn were beginning to appear. The wind that blew down from the crests was full of life.

Sheridan arrived and, riding before the center of his army, looked long and well at the Southern defenses. Then he called his generals, and some of the colonels, including Winchester, and held a brief council.

"It means," said Warner, while the colonel was yet away at the meeting, "that we won't fight any this afternoon, but that we'll do a lot of riding tonight. That position is too strong to be attacked. It would cost us too many men to take it straight away, but having seen a specimen of Little Phil's quality we know that he'll try something else."

"You mean get on their flank," said Dick. "Maybe we can make a passage along the slopes of the mountains."

"As the idea has occurred to me I take it that it will occur to Little Phil also," said Warner.

"Are you sure that he hasn't thought of it first?"

"My politeness forbids an answer. I am but a lieutenant and he is our commander."

The rest of the day was spent in massing the troops across the valley, the Winchester regiment being sent further west until it was against the base of the Massanuttons. Here Shepard came in the twilight and conferred with Colonel Winchester, who called Dick.

"Dick," he said, "Mr. Shepard thinks he can obtain information of value on the mountain. He has an idea that some fighting may occur, and so it's better for a small detachment to go with him. I've selected you to lead the party, because you're at home in the woods."

"May I take Lieutenant Warner and Lieutenant Pennington with me? It would hurt their feelings to be left behind."

"Yes. Under no circumstances must the feelings of those two young men be hurt," laughed Colonel Winchester.

"And Sergeant Whitley, too? He's probably the best scout in our army. He can follow a trail where there is no trail. He can see in the pitchy dark, and he can hear the leaves falling."

"High recommendations, but they're almost true. Take the sergeant by all means. I fancy you'll need him."

The whole party numbered about a dozen, and Shepard was the guide. It was dismounted, of course, as the first slope they intended to carry was too steep for a horse to climb. They were also heavily armed, it being absolutely certain that Southern riflemen were on Massanutton Mountain.

Dick and Shepard were in the lead, and, climbing up at a sharp angle, they quickly disappeared from the view of those below. It was as if night and the wilderness had blotted them out, but every member of the little party felt relief and actual pleasure in the expedition. Something mysterious and unknown lay before them, and they were anxious to find out what it was.

Shepard whispered to Dick of the care that they must take against their foes, and Warner whispered to Pennington that the mountain was really fine, although finer ridges could be found in Vermont.

Two hundred yards up, and Shepard, touching Dick's shoulder, pointed to the valley. The whole party stopped and looked back. Although themselves buried in brown foliage they saw the floor of the valley all the way to the mountains on the other side, and it was a wonderful sight, with its two opposing lines of camp fires that shot up redly and glowed across the fields. Now and then they saw figures of men moving against a crimson background, but no sound of the armies came to them. Peace and silence were yet supreme on the mountain.

"It makes you feel that you're not only above it in the body, but that you are not a part of it at all," said Shepard.

Dick was not surprised at his words. He had learned long since that the spy was an uncommon man, much above most of those who followed his calling.

"It gives me a similar feeling of detachment," he said, "but we know just the same that they're going to fight again tomorrow, and that we'll probably be in the thick of it. I hope, Mr. Shepard, that our victory yesterday marks the beginning of the end."

"I think it does, Mr. Mason. If we clean up the valley, and we'll do it, Lee's flank and Richmond will be exposed. He'll have to come out of his trenches then, and that will give Grant a chance to attack him with an overwhelming force. The Confederacy is as good as finished, but I've never doubted the result for a moment."

"I've worried a little at times. It seemed to me now and then that all those big defeats in Virginia might make our people too weary to go on. Why is that light flaring so high on Fisher's Hill?"

"It may be a signal. Possibly the Southerners are replying to it with another fiery signal on this mountain. We can't see the crest of Massanutton from this slope."

"You seem to know every inch of the ground in this region. How did you manage to learn it so thoroughly?"

"I was born in the valley not far from here. I've climbed over Massanutton many a time. Not far above us is a grove of splendid nut trees, and along the edge of it runs a ravine. I mean to lead the way up the ravine, Mr. Mason. It will give us shelter from the scouts and spies of the enemy."

"Shelter is what we want. I've no taste for being shot obscurely here on the side of the mountain."

"Then keep close behind me, all of you," said Shepard. "We're above the steepest part now, and I know a little path that leads to the ravine. Don't stumble if you can help it."

The path was nothing more than a trace, but it sufficed to give them a surer footing, and in eight or ten minutes they reached the ravine which ran in a diagonal line across the face of the mountain, gradually ascending to the summit. The ravine itself was not more than three or four feet deep, but as its banks were thickly lined with dwarfed cedar they were completely hidden unless they should chance to meet the Southern riflemen, coming down the mountain by the same way.

The ravine at one point led out on a bare shoulder of the slope, and looking over the little pines they clearly saw a fire blazing on the crest and waving flags silhouetted before its glow. Far below, at Fisher's Hill, flags were waving also.

"Quite a lively talk," whispered Shepard. "I suppose the lookouts are telling a lot about our army."

"But it won't make much difference," said Dick. "By the time they've spelled out from the flags what Sheridan is doing he'll be doing something else."

They resumed their climb and the ravine led again into dense forest. Sergeant Whitley had moved up by the side of Shepard, as they were now near the enemy, and his great scouting abilities were needed. It was a wise precaution, as presently he held up his hand, and then, at a signal from him, the whole party climbed softly out of the ravine, and crouched among the little cedars.

Now Dick himself heard what the sergeant had heard perhaps a half minute earlier, that is, the footsteps of two men coming swiftly down the ravine. In another minute they came in sight, Confederate troopers, obviously scouting. Luckily, the ravine being stony and the light bad, they did not see any trail, left by Shepard's troop, and they went on down the ravine.

"Shall we go on?" asked Dick.

"Not yet, sir," replied Shepard. "They don't suspect that we're up here, and it's likely they're trying for a good view of our army. But I fancy they'll be returning in a few minutes. We'd best be very quiet, sir."

Dick cautioned the men, and they lay as still as wild animals in their coverts. In about ten minutes the two riflemen came back up the ravine, and the hidden troopers could hear them talking.

"We'll try some other part of the slope, Jack," said one.

"Yes, that was a bad view," rejoined the other. "We couldn't tell a thing about the Yankee movements from down there. We can leave the ravine higher up, and I know a path that leads toward the north."

"There's not much good in finding out about 'em anyway. That fellow Sheridan is going to press us hard, and they have everything, numbers, arms, food, while we have next to nothing."

"But we'll fight 'em anyhow. Still, I wish old Stonewall was here."

"But he ain't here, and we'll have to do the best we can without him."

Their voices were lost, as they passed up the ravine and disappeared. Then Dick and his little party came out cautiously, and followed.

"I gather from what those two said that Early's men are depressed," said Dick.

"They've a right to be," replied Shepard. "Their army is in bad shape, besides being small, and now that we have a real leader we are, I think, sure to clean up the valley."

"But there'll be plenty of hard fighting."

"Yes. We'll have to win what we get."

The ravine widened and deepened a little, and they stopped. Sergeant Whitley in his capacity of chief scout and trailer climbed up the rocky side and looked about a little, while the others waited. He returned in two or three minutes, and Dick saw, by the moonlight, that his face expressed surprise.

"What is it, sergeant?" asked Dick.

"A woman is on the mountain. She passed by the ravine not long since, perhaps not a half hour ago."

"A woman at such a time? Why, sergeant, it's impossible!"

"No, sir, it isn't. See here!"

He opened his left hand. Within the palm lay a tiny bit of thin gray cloth.

"There may not be more than a dozen threads here," he said, "but I found 'em sticking to a thorn bush not twenty yards away. A half hour ago they were a part of a woman's dress. A thorn bush grows among the cedars above. She was in a hurry, and when her dress caught in it she jerked it loose."

"But how do you know it was only a half hour or less ago?" asked Dick.

"Because she broke two 'or three of the thorns when she jerked, and it was so late that their wounds are still bleeding, that is, a faint bit of sap is oozing out at the fractures."

"That sounds conclusive," said Dick, "but likely it was a mountain woman who lives somewhere along the slope."

The sergeant shook his head.

"No, sir, it was no mountain woman," he said. "When I found the cloth on the thorns I knelt and looked for a trail. It's hard ground mostly, but I thought I might find the trace of a footstep somewhere. I found several, and not one of them was made by the flat, broad shoe that mountain women wear. I found small rounded heel prints which the shoes worn by city women make."

"If any city woman is on this mountain she's a long way from home," said Warner.

"But I'm quite sure of what I say, sir," said the sergeant.

"And so am I," said Shepard, who had been listening with the keenest attention. "Will you mind letting me lead the way for a little while, sir?"

"Go ahead, of course," said Dick. "In such work as this we rely upon the sergeant and you."

"Then I'd like to take a look at those heel prints also."

Dick thought he detected a quiver of excitement or emotion in the voice of Shepard, always so calm and steady hitherto, and he wondered. Nevertheless he asked no questions as he led the way out of the ravine.

The sergeant showed the heel prints to Shepard, and beyond question they had been made by a woman. By careful scrutiny they found a half dozen more leading in a diagonal direction up the side of the mountain, but beyond that the ground was so hard and rocky that they could discover no further traces.

"You agree with me that the tracks have just been made?" said the sergeant to Shepard.

"I do," replied the spy, his voice showing growing excitement, "and I think I know who made them. I didn't believe it at first. It seemed incredible. I want to try a little experiment. Will all of you remain perfectly still?"

"Of course," said Dick.

He took a small whistle from his pocket and blew upon it. The sound was not shrill like that of Slade's whistle, but was very low, soft and musical. He blew only a few notes. Then he took the whistle from his lips and waited. Dick saw that his excitement was growing. It showed clearly in the spy's eyes, and he felt his own excitement increasing, too. He divined that something extraordinary was going to happen.

Out of the cedars to their right and a little higher up the slope came the notes of a whistle, exactly similar, low, soft and musical.

"Ah, I knew it!" breathed Shepard. He waited perhaps half a minute and then blew again, notes similar and just the same in number. In a few moments came the reply, a precise duplicate.

"We'll wait," said Shepard. "She'll be here in a minute or two."

Dick and his comrades looked eagerly toward the point from which the sound of the second whistle had come. This was something amazing, something beyond their experience, but the excitement of Shepard seemed to have passed. His face had become a mask once more, and he was waiting with certainty.

Dick's sharp ear caught the sound of a light footstep approaching them, evidently coming straight and with confidence. He realized that until now he had not really believed, despite the footprints, despite everything, that a woman was on the mountain. But he knew at last. He even heard the swish of her skirts once or twice against the bushes. Then she came through the dwarfed cedars, stepping boldly, and stood before them.

The stranger stood full in the moonlight, and Dick saw her very clearly. She was thin, small and elderly, clothed in a gray riding suit, and with a sort of small gray turban on her head. But despite her smallness and thinness and years there was nothing insignificant in her appearance. As she stood there looking at them, she showed a pair of the brightest and most intelligent eyes that Dick had ever seen. Her small, pointed chin had the firmness of steel, and figure, manner and appearance alike betokened courage and resolution in the highest degree.

All these impressions were made upon Dick in a single instant, as if in a flash of light, and he also noticed in her face a resemblance to some one, although he could not recall, for a moment, who it was. But the silence that endured for a half minute, while the men regarded the woman and the woman regarded the men, was broken by Shepard, who uttered a low cry and strode forward.

"Henrietta," he exclaimed, "you here at such a time!"

He put his arms around her and kissed her.

She returned his kiss, laughed a little, and the two turned toward the others. Then Dick saw whom she resembled. As they stood side by side the likeness was marked, the same eyes, the same nose, the same mouth, the same chin, only hers were in miniature, in comparison with his, and in addition she was eight or ten years older.

"Mr. Mason," said Shepard, addressing himself directly to their nominal leader. "This is my sister. She also serves as I do, and for her, hardships and dangers are not less than mine for me. She works chiefly in Richmond itself. But as you see, she has now come alone into the mountains, and also into the very fringe of the armies."

"Then," said Dick, "she must come on a mission of great importance and it is for us to honor so brave a messenger."

He and all the others took off their caps in silence. They might have cheered, but every one knew that the foe was not far away in the thickets. There was sufficient light for him to see a little flush of pride appear for a moment on the face of the woman. Strange as her position was, she seemed easy and confident, lightly swinging in her hand a small riding whip.

"I'll not ask you for the present, Henrietta, how you come to be here," said Shepard, "but I'll ask instead what you've brought. These young men are Lieutenant Mason, Lieutenant Warner and Lieutenant Pennington. As I've indicated already, Lieutenant Mason leads us."

"I bring information," she replied, "information that you will be glad to carry to General Sheridan. As a woman I could go where men could not, and you remember, Brother William, that I know the country."

"Almost as well as I do," said Shepard. "As a girl you rode like a man and were afraid of nothing. Nor do you fear anything today."

"Tell General Sheridan," she said, turning to Dick, "that the Confederate numbers are even less than he thinks, that a large area at the base of Little North Mountain is wholly unoccupied."

"And if we get there," exclaimed Dick, eagerly, "we can crash in on the flank of Early."

"I'm not a soldier," she said, "but that plan was in my mind. A large division could be hidden in the heavy timber along Cedar Creek, and then, if the proper secrecy were observed, reach the Confederate flank tomorrow night, unseen."

"And that's on the other side of the valley," said Dick.

"But at this point it's only four or five miles across."

"I wasn't making difficulties, I was merely locating the places as you tell them."

"I've drawn a map of the Confederate position. It's in pencil, but it ought to help."

"It will be beyond price!" exclaimed Dick. "You will give it to me?"

"Of course! But you must wait a minute! Until I heard my brother's whistle I didn't know whether it was North or South that I was going to meet on the mountain."

She disappeared in the bushes, and Dick heard a light rustling, but in a few moments she returned and held out a broad sheet of heavy paper, upon which a map had been drawn with care and skill. He had divined already its great value, and now his opinion was confirmed.

"I can't thank you," he said, as he took it, "but General Sheridan and General Grant can. And I've no doubt they'll do it when the time comes."

Again the light flush appeared in her cheeks and she looked actually handsome.

"Since my present task is finished," she said, "I'd better go."

"Where did you leave your horse?" asked Shepard.

"He's tethered in the bushes about a hundred yards farther down the side of the mountain. I'll mount and ride back in the direction of Richmond. I know all the roads."

Sergeant Whitley, who had gone a little higher up and who was watching while they talked, whistled softly. Yet the whistle, low as it was, was undoubtedly a signal of alarm.

"Go at once, Henrietta," whispered Shepard, urgently. "It's important that you shouldn't be held here, that you be left with a free hand."

"It's so," she said.

He stooped and kissed her on the brow, and, without another word, she vanished among the cedars on the lower slope. Dick thought he heard a moment later the distant beat of hoofs and he felt sure she was riding fast and far. Then he turned his attention to the danger confronting them, because a danger it certainly was, and that, too, of the most formidable kind. But, first, he gave the map to Shepard to carry.

Sergeant Whitley came down the slope and joined them.

"I think we'd better lie down, all of us," he said.

Now the real leadership passed to the sergeant, scout, trailer and skilled Indian fighter. It passed to him, because all of them knew that the conditions made him most fit for the place. They knelt or lay but held their weapons ready. The sergeant knelt by Dick's side and the youth saw that he was tense and expectant.

"Is it a band of the Johnnies?" he whispered.

"I merely heard 'em. I didn't see 'em," replied the sergeant, "but I'm thinkin' from the way they come creepin' through the woods that it's Slade and his gang."

"If that's so we'd better look out. Those fellows are woodsmen and they'll be sure to see signs that we're here."

"Right you are, Mr. Mason. It's well the lady left so soon, and that we're between them and her."

"It looks as if this fellow Slade had set out to be our evil genius. We're always meeting him."

"Yes, sir, but we can take care of him. I don't specially mind this kind of fighting, Mr. Mason. We had to do a lot of it in the heavy timber on the slopes of some of them mountains out West, the names of which I don't know, and generally we had to go up against the Sioux and Northern Cheyennes, and them two tribes are king fighters, I can tell you. Man for man they're a match for anybody."

"Slade's men don't appear to be moving," said Shepard, who was on the other side of the sergeant.

"Not so's you could hear 'em," said Sergeant Whitley. "They heard us and they're creeping now so's to see what we are and then fall on us by surprise. Guess them that's kneeling had better bend down a little lower."

Warner, who had been crouched on his knees, lay down almost flat. He did not understand forests and darkness as Dick did, nor did he have the strong hereditary familiarity with them, and he felt uncomfortable and apprehensive.

"I don't like it," he said to Pennington. "I'd rather fight in the open."

"So would I," said Pennington. "It's awful to lie here and feel yourself being surrounded by dangers you can't see. I guess a man in the African wilderness stalked at night by a dozen hungry lions would feel just about as I do."

"I'm going to creep a little distance up the slope again," said the sergeant, "and try to spy 'em out."

"A good idea, but be very careful."

"I certainly will, Mr. Mason. I want to live."

He slid among the bushes so quietly that Dick did not hear the noise of him passing, nor was there any sound until he came back a few minutes later.

"I saw 'em," he whispered. "They're lying among the bushes, and they're not moving now, 'cause they're not certain what's become of us. It's Slade sure. I saw him sitting under a tree, wearing that big flap- brimmed hat, and sitting beside him was a great, black-haired, red-faced man, a most evil-looking fellow, too."

"Skelly! Bill Skelly, beyond a doubt!" said Dick.

"That's him! From what you said Skelly started out by being for the Union. Now, as we believed before, he's joined hands with Slade who's for the South."

"They're just guerrillas, sergeant. They're for themselves and nobody else."

"I reckon that's true, and they're expecting to get some plunder from us. But if you'll listen to me, Mr. Mason, we'll burn their faces while they're about it."

"You're our leader now, sergeant. Tell us what to do."

"Just to our right is a shallow gully, running through the cedars. We can take shelter in it, crawl up it, and open fire on 'em. They don't know our numbers, and if we take 'em by surprise maybe we can scatter 'em for the time."

"I suppose we'll have to. I'd like to get away with this map at once, but they'd certainly follow and force us to a fight."

"That's true. We must deal with 'em, now. I'll have to ask all of you to be very careful. Don't slip, and look out for the dead wood lying about. If a piece of it cracks under you Slade and Skelly will be sure to notice it, and it'll be all up with our surprise."

"You hear," whispered Dick to the others. "If you don't do as the sergeant says, very likely you'll get shot by Slade's men."

With life as the price it was not necessary to say anything more about the need of silence, and nobody slipped and no stick broke as they crept into the gully after the sergeant. The cedars and thickets almost met over the narrow depression, shutting out the moonlight, but every one was able to discern the man before him creeping forward like a wild animal. It was easy enough for Dick to imagine himself that famous great grandfather of his, Paul Cotter reincarnated, and that the days of the wilderness and the Indian war bands had come back again. He even felt exultation as he adapted himself so readily to the situation, and became equal to it. But Warner was grieved and exasperated. It hurt his dignity to prowl on his knees through the dark.

They advanced about two hundred yards in a diagonal course along the side of the mountain until they came to a point where the cedars thinned out a little. Then the sergeant whispered to the others to stop, rose from his knees, and Dick rose beside him.

"See!" he said, nodding his head in the direction in which he wished Dick to look.

Dick saw a number of dark figures standing among the trees. Two were in close conference, evidently trying to decide upon a plan. One, a giant in size, was Skelly, and the other, little, weazened and wearing an enormous flap-brimmed hat, could be none but Slade.

"A pretty pair," said Dick, "but I don't like to fire on 'em from ambush."

"Nor do I," said the sergeant, "but we've got to do it, or we won't get the surprise we need so bad."

But they were saved from firing the first shot as some one in the gully-- they never knew or asked his name--stumbled at last. Slade and Skelly instantly sprang for the trees and Slade blew sharply upon his whistle. Twenty shots were fired in the direction of the gully, but they whistled harmlessly over the heads of its occupants.

It was Dick who gave the command for the return volley, and with a mighty shouting they swept the woods with their breech-loading rifles. They were not sure whether they hit anything, but as the gully blazed with fire they presented all the appearance of a formidable force that might soon charge.

"Cease firing!" said Dick, presently.

A cloud of smoke rose from the gully, and, as it lifted, they could see nothing in the woods beyond, but the sergeant announced that for an instant or two he heard the sound of running feet.

"It means they've gone," said Dick, "and that being the case we'll be off, too. I fancy we've a great prize in this map. Your sister, Mr. Shepard, must be a woman of extraordinary daring and ability."

"She's all that," replied the spy earnestly. "I think sometimes that God gave to me the size and physical strength of the family, but to her the mind. Think of her life there in Richmond, surrounded by dangers! She has done great service to our cause tonight, and she has done other services, equally as great, before."

Shepard was silent for a little while and then he began to chuckle to himself, almost under his breath, but Dick heard.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I was thinking of my sister," Shepard replied. "Your cousin, Harry Kenton, if you should ever meet him again--and I know that you will-- could tell you a story of a dark night in Richmond, or at least a part of it, and he could also tell an interesting story, or a part of it, of another map, almost as valuable as this, which disappeared mysteriously from the house of a rich man in Richmond where he and other Southern officers were being entertained. It vanished almost from under their hands."

"Tell me now," said Dick, feeling great curiosity.

"I think I'd better wait, if you'll pardon me, sir," said Shepard.

"I'll have to wait anyhow," said Dick, "because I hear the tread of men coming toward us."

"But they're our own," said Sergeant Whitley, who was a little ahead, peering between the cedars.

"I suppose they heard the shots and are hurrying to our relief," said Dick. "But we routed the enemy, we did not lose a man, and we've brought away the prize."

The two forces joined and they were shortly back with Colonel Winchester, who fully appreciated the great value of the information obtained by such a remarkable coordination of effort.

"Dick," he said, "you and Mr. Shepard shall ride at once with me and this map to General Sheridan." _

Read next: Chapter 9. At Grips With Early

Read previous: Chapter 7. Sheridan's Attack

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