The Drummer Boy Part 37

"I'm glad--and sorry!" said Abe.

The company had halted, awaiting the movement of the troops in front.

"We are getting into a splendid position!" said Gray, who had pa.s.sed through the undergrowth to reconnoitre. "We're fairly on their flank, and not discovered yet!"

"How far did you go?" asked Captain Edney.

"To the clearing, which is just there where the woods look lighter. I could see the guns of the battery blazing away, and rebels in the woods supporting it. They're too busy to notice us."

"We're discovered, though!" said Captain Edney as a bullet came chipping its way among the twigs above them.

"The sharpshooters are after us!" said Gray, gayly. "And now we're after them!"

The order was given to advance. The men dashed forward through the bushes. They soon made the clearing, and marching along its edge, opened fire by file upon the battery and the rebels in the woods.

"You do well, Frank!" said At.w.a.ter, seeing his young companion coolly loading and firing at his side.

"It's a perfect surprise to them! they didn't think we could do it!"

cried Gray, elated. "Lively, boys! lively."

The firing, regular at first, running along the line from right to left, soon became a continual rattling, each man loading at will, and firing whenever an enemy's head showed itself.

"There! I popped you over, you sneaking rebel!" cried Seth Tucket, watching the effect of his shot. "Take the fellow next to him there, Harris! behind that stump!"

"Let him put up his head a little higher!" said Harris, taking aim.

He fired. The rebel dropped, not behind the stump, but beside it.

"You've saved him!" shouted Tucket. "That'll pay for Ellis and Jack Winch!"

The fire of the enemy in the woods was soon concentrated on Captain Edney's company, which happened to be most exposed.

"Fire and load lying!" rang the captain's voice through the din.

Frank saw those next him throw themselves down behind a fallen tree. He did the same. The trunk presented an excellent rest for his musket, and he fired across it. But when he came to load, he found difficulty. He had been exercised in the manual of arms, yet the operation of ramming the cartridge while on his back was beyond his practice. Give him time, and he could do it. But he felt that time was precious, and that every shot told.

He glanced at At.w.a.ter, resting on his left side as he brought his gun back after discharging it; taking out his cartridge; then turning on his back, holding the piece with both hands and placing the b.u.t.t between his feet; and in that position, with the barrel over his breast, charging cartridge, drawing rammer, and so forth.

All which the tall soldier performed scientifically and quickly. Yet Frank saw that it took even him much longer to load lying than standing.

What, then, could he hope to do?

What he did was this. He deliberately got upon his feet, and with the b.a.l.l.s singing around him, proceeded unconcernedly with his loading.

"Down!" called At.w.a.ter to him; "down! You're making a target of yourself!"

Frank resolutely went on with his loading.

"Down, there! down, Frank!" shouted Captain Edney.

Frank shouted back,--

"I can't load unless I stand up, sir!"

"Never mind that! Down!" repeated his captain, peremptorily.

"I've got my cartridge down, any way," said Frank, triumphantly, dropping again behind the log.

"Why don't you obey orders?" cried Gray.

"The orders were to load and fire, and I was bound to obey them before any others!" said Frank, preparing to prime.

Just then At.w.a.ter, who was again on his back, suddenly dropped his piece, which fell across his left arm, and brought his right hand to his breast.

The movement was so abrupt and unusual it attracted Frank's attention.

"Are you hit, Abe?"

And in an instant he saw the answer to his hurried question in a gush of blood which crimsoned the poor, brave fellow's breast.

"It has come!" said At.w.a.ter.

"How could it--and you lying down so!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Frank.

"I don't know--never mind me!" replied Abe, faintly.

Then Frank remembered the mysterious shots aimed at him and Sinjin in the woods, and the subsequent solution of the mystery. He looked up--all around--overhead.

"What's the trouble, Manly?" screamed Tucket. "What do you see?"

"There!" Frank shouted, pointing upwards; "there! the man that killed At.w.a.ter!"

And in the branches of a tree, which stood but a few paces in front of them, he showed, half hidden by the thick ma.s.ses, the figure of a rebel.

The sharpshooter was loading his piece. Frank saw the movement, and would have hastened to avenge the death of his friend before the a.s.sa.s.sin could fire again. But he was out of caps, and must borrow. Tucket's gun was ready.

"'Die thou shalt, gray-headed ruffian!'"

Seth shouted the words up at the man in the tree, and lying on his back, brought the b.u.t.t of his gun to his shoulder, aimed heavenward, and fired.

Scarce had flame shot from the muzzle, when down came the rebel's gun tumbling to the ground; pursued out of the tree by something that resembled a huge bird, with spread wings, swooping down terribly, and striking the ground with a jar heard even amid the thunder of battle.

It was the rebel himself.

"'Rattling, cras.h.i.+ng, thras.h.i.+ng, thunder down!'" screamed Seth Tucket, his ruling pa.s.sion, poetry, strong even in battle.

The man, pitching forwards in his fearful somerset, had fallen within a few feet of Frank. The boy recovering from his astonishment at the awful sight, felt a strange curiosity to see if he was dead.

He looked over the log. There lay the wretch, a hideous heap, the face of him upturned and recognizable.

Where had Frank seen that grim countenance, that short, stiff, iron-gray hair? Somewhere, surely. He looked again, trying to fix his memory.