The Young Sharpshooter at Antietam Part 16

said Jim positively.

"He'll have to make haste about it, then. He left Was.h.i.+n'ton with an army of nearly eighty-five thousand men. He ought to do something with such a body as that. Why, only last night, if he had made a night march, he mought have got in possession of both Gaps--"

"What Gaps?"

"Why, Crampton's Gap and Turner's. He's lost his chance, though."

"You know a right sma't lot, don't you?" inquired Jim.

"That's my business."

"Well, I haven't any curiosity about this thing," said Jim, shaking his head slowly as he spoke. "I'm satisfied to stay right here and be true to the old flag. There comes Sairy Ann," he added, as Noel heard the sounds of the voices of women approaching from the stairway, which the night before he had seen was on the opposite side of the room. It was manifest now that Sairy Ann also had her visitor, and as the two women entered the room both men became silent.

"I done tole yo' how it is," Sairy Ann was saying. "I've said to yo'

many times, 'Liza, that I wouldn't stand for no sech foolishness. I don'

like the secesh. I never did and I never shall, and if yo' 're determined to be secesh yourself, then yo' 'll have to take the consequences! I don't mind tellin' yo' all as how I hev made my will."

"Hev ye?" inquired the other woman, the tones of her voice implying that she was at once deeply interested.

"Yes, I hev, and instead of leaving yo' all the money I promised yo', I've willed yo' a pair o' my shoestrings."

"I don' believe yo' hev done any sech thing, Sairy Ann!" protested the other woman.

"I don't care whether yo' believe it or not. That's jest exactly what I hev done. I hev set it down pertic'lar,--'To my oldest sister, 'Liza, I give, bequeath and leave and likewise devise one pair of shoestrings.'"

"Well, I'd rather hev a pair of shoestrings and be loyal to my State than I would to hev all your money and be a Yank."

"Of course, _you_ would, 'Liza," snapped Sairy Ann. "That's because yo'

don't know no mo'. If yo' knew mo', yo' wouldn't talk sech nonsense."

Whether or not the woman's argument was deemed sufficient, at all events the conversation abruptly ceased when the visiting man said, "Now, I hev come fo' yo' yere, 'Liza, and I don't intend to stay very long. You hev got to make up your mind right sma't whether yo' 're goin' to come with me, or whether yo' 're going to stay here with your sister."

"That's right," sobbed Eliza. "That's right. First Sairy Ann picks on me and then my own husband he picks on me, too. I'm jest distracted. I don't want to stay and I don't want to go."

"Yo' 're as bad as McClellan," broke in her husband. "I've come ten miles out o' my way just toe get yo' and take yo' home, if yo' don't want toe stay yere. If yo' think yo' 'll be safer along with these Yankee sympathizers, why jes' say so and stay yere. It doesn't matter very much toe me either way. The only Yanks I can put up with are Jim and Sairy Ann, and I wouldn't put up with them very long if we all weren't members of the same family."

"I expect to be shot by the secesh, anyway," broke in Sairy Ann, "and I hope yo' 'll go because I don't want to get shot by any o' my folks."

"We're goin' toe go," said the man.

To Noel's great relief preparations for departure were at once made.

It was not until the man and his wife had left, however, that the mistress of the house brought the waiting young soldier his uniform.

Tossing it inside the room, she called out in a voice, which in spite of its sharpness was not unfriendly, "There's yer soldier clothes. Yo' all can put them on and come out and get your breakfast."

Only a brief time had elapsed before the summons had been obeyed by Noel, and refreshed by the rest of the night and the clothes which Sairy Ann had made thoroughly presentable, he entered the kitchen.

The tall form of the gaunt head of the house seemed to Noel to be even taller than when he had first seen it in the dim light of the preceding night. The expression of the man's face was so doleful that the young soldier felt a fresh sympathy for the sharp-toned woman for whom her husband's slow and undecided ways were a constant source of irritation.

As for Sairy Ann herself, Noel saw that her hair was of the tinge which is sometimes a.s.sociated with certain warlike propensities and also that she was cross-eyed. Indeed, the young soldier decided that never before had he seen any one whose eyes to all appearances might each serve the duty and the place of the other. He was uncertain when she spoke to him whether or not she was looking at him, and he was somehow aware that the woman was keenly aware of the impression which she made upon him.

However, his feeling of hunger was now supreme, and as soon as he was bidden to take his place at the table, he began to do ample justice to the simple fare which was provided. The manifest curiosity of the woman was to have no occasion for gratification until the meal was more than half done. Then, unable longer to restrain her feelings, she abruptly inquired, "Now, then, what yo' all doin' here?"

"Just now I'm doin' my best to get ready to leave."

"Did yo' all hear any voices this mornin'?" inquired Jim slowly.

Aware that the interest of the woman in his reply was keen, Noel said, "Why, I heard some talk. Was there anything of special interest?"

"Naw. I reckon nothin' what would be interestin' to yo' all," said Jim.

"Hey!" exclaimed Sairy Ann suddenly. "Here comes the Jew peddler. He was here day before yesterday. I told him then I didn't want anything, and I don't see what for he comes around here pestering us again."

Noel looked up quickly as she spoke, and saw the peddler standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

Instantly he recognized the trader as Levi Kadoff, the sutler whose experiences in the camp had been of such a trying nature that he had departed with many threats for the mischievous soldiers who had tormented him.

He was positive that the peddler also recognized him, although not a word was spoken by either.

Entering the room, Levi whiningly begged the woman to make some purchases.

"I don't want nothin'," declared Sairy Ann. "I told yo' so yesterday and day befo' when yo' were here. Yo' ought to take better care of yo'self than to be here where there's so many soldiers so near. Suppose yo' got caught right in the middle of the fight?"

"Dere vill be no fight," said Levi positively.

"How do yo' know there won't?"

"Because dere vill not be any."

"But how do yo' know?" protested the woman.

"Dot is vat der men says."

"What men?"

"All kinds of men. Now, please, mine goot voman, let me show you vat fine spectacles that I have?"

"What do you mean by that?" demanded Sairy Ann, abruptly rising from her seat and facing the little peddler. "Yo' ain't gettin' personal, be ye? What makes yo' think I need gla.s.ses?"

"Spectacles is all der styles now. I sells more gla.s.ses to young vimmins than I do to der old vimmins."

Appeased by the explanation, the hostess resumed her seat, and a few minutes later, when the little Jew displayed certain ribbons in his wares, Sairy Ann hesitated and was lost, much to the disgust of the elongated Jim. She invested some "real Yankee money" in several strips of bright yellow ribbon, doubtless selecting this particular color because she fancied it would match both her hair and her eyes, for now Noel was aware that even her eyes shared in the tawny color of her hair and skin.

By the time the trading was completed, Noel had finished his breakfast and was eager to be gone. He was desirous also of having some conversation with Levi, when later the little peddler, after one searching glance at the face of the young soldier, left the place and Noel abruptly decided to go with him.

Thanking his hostess for her kindness in receiving and caring for him, he shook hands with her and her husband and taking his cap left the house.

Calling to Levi to wait for him to join him, he soon was in the road where the sutler was standing. Advancing to his side, Noel prepared to accompany the little peddler on his way, a decision which within a short time he had cause deeply to regret.