The Young Sharpshooter at Antietam Part 9

Deprived of their weapons and conducted by three armed men, there was no chance likely to be given for escape, although wild thoughts of trying to break away were still in the mind of each of the prisoners.

Not a word was spoken by their guard until about a quarter of a mile had been covered, when one of the Confederates halting, said to the boys, "We'll turn in here."

As he spoke he pushed some bushes apart, and in a brief time Noel was able to see that a corduroy path, or roadway, narrower than the one over which they recently had come was before him. One of the guards now advanced, while the other two took a position in the rear, and as soon as the directions were given the entire band began to make its way over the rough pathway.

Once more silence returned, not to be broken until what Noel a.s.sumed must have been a half-mile had been covered and again they were approaching more solid ground.

A rough stretch of land lay before them, which was without trees and apparently without a roadway. Without hesitation their conductors at once led the boys across the intervening sandy stretch and soon arrived at a low house, whose walls gleamed almost ghostly in the moonlight.

Whitewash had been applied to the exterior of the rude building and also had been used upon the farm buildings and the fences that inclosed them.

Advancing to the low, covered piazza, which extended across the entire front of the house, the approach of the band was speedily discovered by the inmates, and in a moment a dozen or more soldiers came running out of the building.

Noel was able to see that every one was clad in the Confederate uniform and also was armed. At first the house seemed too small to contain so many men, but when several more emerged from the interior he suspected that there might be accommodations in the little building which did not appear upon the surface.

"Here we are, Captain!" called one of the leaders. "We've got two."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, sir. But we'll soon have more. We've got a trap down in the Hedge Swamp road. It's the only way the men can get through the swamp, and we have stationed a few of the cavalry at the farther end. Some of the boys are on the watch on the other side of the swamp, and are doing their best to drive what Yankees there may be hiding anywhere around here on to the corduroy road and then they feel safe to leave them. The poor fools keep right on the road and run directly into the trap Lieutenant Fowler set fo' them. He is waiting there with about twenty men."

"Is this the first batch you have taken?"

"Yes, sir. We have sent out Long John to help draw the Yankees into the trap."

The Confederate officer was unaware of the gleam which appeared for a moment in the eyes of Dennis, and he said lightly, "We'll be ready for all you can bring us, Tom. We'll put these two fellows in the pen until we have enough to make it worth while to send them on to Libby."

As he heard the name of the well-known prison in Richmond, Noel's heart was heavy. Stories were current of the sufferings of the Union prisoners who had been confined in the famous old warehouse, which had been transformed early in the war into a prison for the Northern soldiers.

There had come many a tale of daring attempts to escape as well as of the almost indescribable sufferings of its inmates. Perhaps it was all a part of the struggle, and yet with the bitterness of the time so keen, few were in a condition to look with calmness upon the sufferings of the prisoners of either side in the struggle.

To be sent to Libby Prison! For a moment Noel's thoughts ran back to his home on the banks of the far-away St. Lawrence. He could see the little house sheltered by the overhanging maples. There were the red barns just beyond, and for an instant Noel seemed to catch a glimpse of the line of cattle slowly moving up the lane toward the barnyard. In the distance occasional glimpses of the waters of the St. Lawrence, gleaming in the light of the afternoon sun, were had. His mother was moving quietly about the kitchen preparing the evening meal. Frank was lying as he was, when he had last seen him, on the couch in the room where his mother was busy. His father, perhaps, was singing at his task as he milked the cows. Even the thought of the stirring words and tunes which his father best loved to sing failed now to find any response in the mind of Noel. It was one thing to sing of the glory of war, but it was another and far different thing to be held as a prisoner in southern Maryland and to be threatened with confinement in the old prison-house at Richmond.

However, there was no possibility of evading, at least for the present, the problem which must be confronted. Soon both Noel and Dennis were searched and every loose possession was taken from them, to be held until such a time as the war should cease or the prisoners should be exchanged. There was another alternative in the thoughts of Noel, but he did not refer to it. What that was became manifest after several days had elapsed.

As Noel now glanced about him he was able to discover that very few negroes were in the house. He was eager to discover the presence of Long John, but he soon concluded that the treacherous black man had retraced his way over the corduroy road, and doubtless now was trying to lead some others of the unfortunate Union soldiers into the same trap in which he and Dennis had been caught.

A half-hour after they had entered the house, Noel and Dennis were conducted to a room on the first floor and thrust into it. The evening was warm and the door was left open, but the guard was stationed directly in front of it, so that any attempt on the part of the prisoners to escape would be instantly known.

Noel looked cautiously out of the window in the room, and was aware that a full guard had been established to patrol the place. At least four of the Confederate soldiers were a.s.signed to this task, and each one was responsible for only one side of the house.

The guard that was inside and had charge of the door was good-natured and looked at his Yankee prisoners with undisguised interest. It was plain that he did not have any fear of the young prisoners attempting to escape. Such an effort would be worse than useless, for at least twenty men were in the band, and the prisoners themselves now were unarmed.

"Whar yo' from?" inquired the guard.

"From New York State," answered Noel quietly.

"I always heard that was a right sma't State. How many Yanks might there be in it?"

"Enough to put an end to this war if they all would turn out," said Noel.

"That can't be so, sir," said the guard solemnly.

Noel in the dim light looked more closely at the soldier. He was more than usually stout and his good nature was apparent, not only in the tones of his voice, but in the friendly way in which he regarded his charges.

"Daggone! I don't believe the Yanks can fight, and yet I saw one the other day who was a great sight and had all gone to pieces."

"Who was he? What about him?" inquired Noel, aware that he was expected to follow up the implied question of the good-natured guard.

"Why, he had lost one hand; one leg had been shot away; he had only one eye; he had broken some bones, and a part of his liver had been cut out of him, and yet he was ready to fight to the last."

"I should n't think he would know who he was," said Dennis. "Faith! An'

ye say he had only one arm, one leg, one eye? An' how about his ears?"

"They were both all right," replied the guard. "His nose looked, though, as if he dragged it along the ground."

"How did it all happen?" inquired Noel.

"Why, he had been in two battles, and the surgeons had been at work at him. What our men did not do the surgeons thought they would finish. The poor chap had to leave the army, but he was game all the way through.

What do you suppose will happen to him in the Resurrection?"

"I haven't looked quite as far ahead as that," said Noel.

"'Tis strange," broke in Dennis, "how much a man can lose of himself, and still be the same man. Faith! I wouldn't know, if I lost me arm and me leg and me head and me eyes, whether I was Dennis O'Hara or somebody else."

"The fellow was game all through, as I said," continued the guard. "I'm a sharpshooter," he added abruptly.

"Are you?" inquired Noel quickly, though he endeavored to conceal his interest in the simple statement. Did the man know anything concerning the skill of Dennis and himself with the rifle? His gun, of which Noel had been exceedingly proud, had been taken from him. Whether or not the guard had any suspicions concerning his skill, the fact remained that without any kind of a weapon those suspicions mattered little.

"Yes," continued the guard. "I was in the pit firing at some Yanks over there on the Peninsula one time last June. There was a fellow firing away at me, and he was so good that he made me keep out of sight, too, most of the time. I thought I had him at the same minute when he thought he had me. We fired at the same time, and what do you think happened?"

"You both missed?" suggested Dennis.

"No, we didn't; at least both of us didn't miss. The strangest thing happened."

"What was it?" inquired Noel, apparently still more eagerly.

"Why, would you believe it?" said the soldier, "the bullet of that Yankee sharpshooter had gone right down the muzzle of my gun. It struck perfectly square and went into the muzzle the whole length of it."

"And did your bullet do the same thing with his rifle?" inquired Dennis solemnly.

"I don't know. I never have heard. I did not know but that you might have heard something about the affair and could tell me what happened to that Yank. Were you ever down on the Peninsula?"

"Yes, sor," said Dennis promptly.

"Maybe you were down there helping McClellan get away as fast as his legs could carry him. You made good time!" laughed the guard.

"Faith, and we did," said Dennis, "but not as good as we might have made if the Johnnies had followed us up. They were so afraid that we would turn on them and take their little tin capital away from them that they ran as fast as they could go back to Richmond."

"We weren't running in that direction," said the soldier, unmoved by the bantering of Dennis. "Don't forget about Mana.s.sas. And now we have all yo' Yanks bottled up right here in Maryland."