The Courier Of The Ozarks Part 32

"Pea Ridge!" cried Mr. Chittenden. "Was it at Pea Ridge you received your wounds?"

Mark nodded.

"And you rode all the distance from there here, wounded as you were? It seems impossible."

"I reckon I must," said Mark; "but I remember little about it. It was this way: We whipped them the first day; that is, Price's army did.

Before the battle, McCullough's men--and he had a larger army than Price--made fun of our appearance and said they would show us how to fight, but they ran like sheep, while we drove the Yankees before us. We thought the victory ours. But with McCullough out of the way, the next morning the whole Yankee army attacked us, and we had to retreat. The retreat became a rout. I was wounded and left on the field for dead.

When I came to it was night and the stars were s.h.i.+ning. I staggered to my feet and was fortunate enough to catch a stray horse and, by taking a defile through the hills, was able to get away. I stopped at a house and had my wounds roughly dressed. It was reported that the Yankee cavalry were scouring the country, picking up the fugitives, and, although I was so weak from my wounds I could hardly stand, I determined to push on.

Then my head began to feel strange: I saw all sorts of things. From that time until I came to and found myself here, I have no remembrance, how I got here, or how long it was after the battle."

"The battle had been fought about two weeks when you put in an appearance," said Mr. Chittenden.

"I must have stopped, and got some rest during that time," said Mark.

"But where--it's all a blank. I feel I owe my life to you, Mr.

Chittenden. Not many would be as kind to a poor friendless soldier as you have been to me. I feel----"

"No thanks, my boy; you must stay with us until you get entirely well."

"I reckon I will have to," replied Mark, with a smile. "I don't feel much like traveling."

There seemed to be something troubling Mark, and at last he asked Mr.

Chittenden what had become of the clothes he wore when he came.

"Burnt up, Mark."

Mark gave a convulsive start and looked as if he were going to faint.

"There, don't worry; I'll see you have much better ones; those you wore were in awful condition," replied Mr. Chittenden.

"But--but what became of what was in the pockets?" Mark asked the question with a visible effort to appear calm.

"All safe, nothing disturbed. I gave orders that nothing should be touched until we saw whether you lived or died."

Mark looked relieved, but he only said: "There is nothing to worry about; but I had a little money in my pockets, and it might have been taken from me while I was wandering, not myself."

"We will see," said Mr. Chittenden, and he got the articles which had been taken from Mark's clothing.

Mark hastily glanced them over and said, "It's all right. I am glad there is money enough here to pay you, in part, for your trouble."

"None of that, Mark. I will throw you out of the house if you ever say pay again. In fact, I would take it as an insult," said Mr. Chittenden.

Mark said no more, but, glancing over the articles, he abstracted two or three papers, and handed the rest back to Mr. Chittenden, asking him to keep them for him. No sooner was he gone than Mark called Tilly and handed her the papers he had kept, asking her if she would not burn them. "Don't let anyone see them, Tilly, and burn them right away."

"Dat what I will," said Tilly, taking them.

"And, Tilly, don't say anything about it to anyone."

"Honey boy kin trust Tilly," exclaimed the woman as she turned to hurry away, highly pleased that she had been trusted with a secret errand.

"I can now rest easy," murmured Mark, as he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

One day as Tilly was administering to his wants Mark said, "Tilly, I don't know, but it seems as if I have seen you somewhere before, but for the life of me I can't remember where."

"Dat is jes what I said 'bout yo', Ma.r.s.e Mark," cried Tilly, her face brightening. "I said sh.o.r.ely I hev seen dat boy somewhar. It jes 'peared to me that Tilly had held yo' in her arms some time, an' Tilly tuk yo'

to her ole heart right away, an' she grab yo' when de ole deth angel had hole of yo', and she sed, 'Go 'way, ole deth angel, dis is mah boy,' an'

she tuk yo' right out of de clutches of dat ole deth angel, she did, an'

now yo' air mah boy."

Mark smiled as he said, "Yes, Tilly, I believe you did cheat the death angel, and if anyone has a claim on me, you have. I shall always remember you."

"An' Missy Grace, she helped too," cried Tilly. "Yo' mustn't forgit Missy Grace."

"I shall never forget her," replied Mark, and there was more meaning in his words than Tilly thought.

That night Mark lay thinking over what Tilly had said about holding him in her arms, and suddenly he remembered. "She is right," he almost sobbed. "She has held me in her arms, but she must never know."

At last the day came when Mark could sit in a chair on the porch and look out over the beautiful valley and stately hills. The valley was arrayed in all the freshness and loveliness of spring; La Belle was murmuring her sweetest music.

"What a lovely valley you have here," he said to Mr. Chittenden. "One should be perfectly happy here--so peaceful, so beautiful, so far removed from the unrest and turmoil of the world."

"You talk like a philosopher, young man," replied Mr. Chittenden, laughing. "Not many of the world would like it; the ma.s.s of mankind prefer the rush and roar of the cities. There is little room for ambition here. The world would never have grown to what it is if all preferred to live as I do. Yet I would live nowhere else. Yes, it is very quiet here, or was before the war."

"Has the war disturbed you much?" asked Mark.

"Yes, a great deal. As yet there has been no fighting nearer than Frederickstown, but the hills are full of small guerrilla bands, I would not be surprised to have a Federal cavalry force visit us any day. I try to impress on the boys that it would be better if they were in the army fighting, but few of them care to become regular soldiers."

Mark said no more, but sat apparently buried in deep thought.

It was not to be expected that Mark had remained at Mr. Chittenden's all of this time without him and Grace becoming fast friends. Mark was so different from what she had expected when he represented himself as a poor, homeless private soldier, that it puzzled her. "There is a mystery about him," she said to herself, "and I am going to find out what it is.

Whatever he is now, he was raised a gentleman."

As for Mark, he almost regretted he was getting well. The girl had come to fill a large share of his thoughts. He had also learned some things that surprised him. He had heard Grace and Tilly talk when he was lying, as they thought, asleep, and he knew that Grace's heart was with the North, and not the South, and that she hated slavery.

One day Tilly told Grace a story that caused every nerve in his body to tingle, and he scarcely could keep from crying out.

Mark was very curious to know whether or not Mr. Chittenden was cognizant of his daughter's heresy, and soon found that he was, but that he looked upon it as a mere girlish whim.

As Mark grew stronger he and Mr. Chittenden grew very intimate, and he never tired to hear Mark tell of how he had fought with Price at Wilson Creek, at Lexington, and at Pea Ridge.

In turn he confided to Mark that his house was what might be called a station between Missouri and Arkansas. The route through the valley of La Belle was little known to Federals, and practically unguarded. It touched no towns in their possession, and thus left an almost uninterrupted gateway between the two States.

Mark soon noticed that a good many Confederate officers were making their way north, and he learned that a gigantic conspiracy was on foot, but, being only a private soldier, he was not taken into their confidence.

One day there came to the house on his way north the same Colonel Clay spoken of in our first chapter. He noticed and asked about Mark, and, when told, exclaimed, "Remarkable! I would like to speak to him."

He made Mark tell him the whole story. Not only this, but by questioning he learned that Mark had not only a keen knowledge of military affairs but was wonderfully well informed as to the army.

"It's a shame you were kept in the ranks. You should be an officer,"

cried Clay.