"They can give all the reasons they please why I won this war," said Pennington, "but even history-makers are entitled to a rest. Since there's no order to the contrary I mean to stretch out and go to sleep. Dick, you and George can discuss your problems all night."

But they went to sleep also.



CHAPTER IX. THE OPEN DOOR

"Dick," said Colonel Winchester the next morning, "I think you are the best scout and trailer among my young officers. Mr. Pennington, you are probably the best on the plains, and I've no doubt, Warner, that you would do well in the mountains, but for the hills, forests and rivers I'll have to choose Dick. I've another errand for you, my boy. You're to go on foot, and you're to take this dispatch to Admiral Porter, who commands the iron-clads in the river near the city. Conceal it carefully about you, but I anticipate no great danger for you, as Vicksburg is pretty well surrounded by our forces."

The dispatch was written on thin, oiled paper. Dick hid it away in the lining of his coat and departed upon another important mission, full of pride that he should be chosen for it. He had all the passwords and carried two good pistols in his belt. Rich in experience, he felt able to care for himself, even should the peril be greater than Colonel Winchester had expected.

The sun was not far above the horizon but it was warm and brilliant, and it lighted up the earth, throwing a golden glow over the plateau of Vicksburg, the great maze of ravines and thickets and the many waters.

He passed along the lines, walking rapidly southward, and saw more than one officer of his acquaintance. Hertford's cavalry were in a field, and the colonel himself sat on a portion of the rail fence that had enclosed it. He hailed the lad pleasantly.

"Into the forest again, Dick," he said.

"Not this time, sir," Dick replied. "It's just a little trip, down the river."

"Success to the trip and a speedy return."

Dick nodded and walked on. He was quite sure that his dispatch was an order from Grant for Porter to come up the stream and join in a general attack which everybody felt sure was planned for an early date.

As he passed through the regiments and brigades he received much good-humored chaff. The great war of America differed widely from the great wars of Europe. The officers and men were more nearly on a plane of equality. The vast majority of them had been volunteers in the beginning and perhaps this feeling of comradeship made them fight all the better. North and South were alike in it.

"Which way, sonny?" called a voice from a group. "You don't find the fighting down there. It's back toward Vicksburg."

Dick nodded and smiled.

"Maybe he's out walking for exercise. These officers ride too much."

Dick walked on with a steady swinging step. He regarded the sunbrowned, careless youths with the genuine affection of a brother. Many of them were as young as he or younger, but they were now veterans of battle and march. Napoleon's soldiers themselves could not have boasted of more experience than they.

He was coming to the last link in the steel chain, and the colonel of a regiment, an old man, warned him to be careful as he approached the river.

"Southern sharpshooters are among the ravines and thickets," he said. "They fired on our lads about dawn and then escaped easily in the thick cover."

"Thank you, sir," said Dick, "I'll be on my guard." Yet he did not feel the presence of danger. Youth perhaps becomes more easily hardened in war than middle age, or perhaps it thinks less of consequences. The Union cannon, many of great weight and power, had begun already to fire upon Vicksburg. Huge shells and shot were rained upon the city. Pemberton had two hundred guns facing the river and the army, but to spare his ammunition they made little reply.

Dick looked back now and then. He saw flakes of fire on the northern horizon, puffs of smoke and the curving shells. He felt that Vicksburg was no pleasant place to be in just now, and yet it must be full of civilians, many of them women and children. He was sorry for them. It was Dick's nature to see both sides of a quarrel. He could never hate the Southerners, because they saw one way and he another.

It was a passing emotion. It was too fine a morning for youth to grieve. At the distance the plumes of smoke made by the shells became decorative rather than deadly. From a crest he saw upon the plateau of Vicksburg and even discerned the dim outline of houses. Looking the other way, he saw the smoke of the iron-clads down the river, and he also caught glimpses of the Mississippi, gold in the morning sun over its vast breadth.

Then he entered the thickets, and, bearing in mind the kindly warning of the old colonel, proceeded slowly and with extreme caution. The Southerners knew every inch of the ground here and he knew none. He came to a ravine and to his dismay found that a considerable stream was flowing through it toward the bayou. It was yellow water, and he thought he might find a tree, fallen across the stream, which would serve him as a foot log, but a hunt of a few minutes disclosed none, and, hesitating no longer, he prepared to wade.

He put his belt with the pistols in it around his neck and stepped in boldly. His feet sank in the mud. The water rose to his knees and then to his waist. It was, in truth, deeper than he had expected—one could never tell about these yellow, opaque streams. He took another step and plunged into a hole up to his shoulders.

Angry that he should be wet through and through, and with such muddy water too, he crossed the stream.

He looked down with dismay at his uniform. The sun would soon dry it, but until he got a chance to clean it, it would remain discolored and yellow, like the jeans clothes which the poorer farmers of the South often wore. And yet the accident that he bemoaned, the bath in water thick with mud, was to prove his salvation.

Dick shook himself like a big dog, throwing off as much of the water as he could. He had kept his pistols dry and he rebuckled his belt around his waist. Then he returned to his errand. Among the thickets he saw but little. Vicksburg, the Mississippi, and the Union camp disappeared. He beheld only a soft soil, many bushes and scrub forest. After going a little distance he was compelled to stop again and consider. It was curious how one could lose direction in so small a space.

He paused and listened, intending to regain his course through the sense of hearing. From the north and east came the thunder of the siege guns. It had grown heavier and was continuous now. Once more he was sorry for Vicksburg, because the Union gunners were unsurpassed and he was sure that bombs and shells were raining upon the devoted town.

Now he knew that he must go west by south, and he made his way over difficult country, crossing ravines, climbing hills, and picking his path now and then through soft ground, the most exhausting labor of all. The sun poured down upon him and his uniform dried fast. He had just crossed one of the ravines and was climbing into the thicket beyond when a voice asked:

"See any of the Yanks in front?"

Dick's heart stood still, and then all his presence of mind came back. Not in vain had the kindly colonel warned him of the Southern sharpshooters in the bush.

"No," he replied. "They seem to be farther up. One of our fellows told me he saw a whole regiment of them off there to the right."

He plunged deeper into the bush and walked on as if he were among his own comrades. He realized that his faded uniform with its dye of yellow mud had caused him to be mistaken for one of Pemberton's men. His accent, which was Kentuckian and therefore Southern, had helped him also. He passed three or four other men, bent over, rifle in hand and watching, and he nodded to them familiarly. In such a crisis he knew that boldness and ease were his best cards, and he said to one of the men, with a laugh:

"You'll have to tell us Tennesseeans about all your bayous and creeks. I've just fallen into one that had no right to be there."

"You Tennesseeans need a bath anyhow," replied the man, chuckling.

"We'd never choose a Mississippi stream for it," said Dick in the same vein, and passed on leaving the rifleman in high good humor. How wonderfully these Southerners were like the Northerners! He noticed presently a half-dozen other sharpshooters in the Confederate butternut, prowling among the bushes, and through an opening he saw his own people to the west, but too far away to be reached by anything but artillery. The slow, deep music of the Northern guns came steadily to his ear, but their fire was always turned toward Vicksburg.

Dick knew that his position was extremely critical. Perhaps it was growing more so all the while, but he was never cooler. A quiet lad, he always rose wonderfully to an emergency. He was quite sure that he was among Mississippi troops, and they could not possibly know all the soldiers from the other states gathered for the defense of Vicksburg. He did not differ from those around him in any respect, except that he did not carry a rifle.

He paused and looked back thoughtfully at the distant Union troops.

"Can you tell me how they're posted?" he said to a tall, thin middle-aged man who had a chew of tobacco in his cheek. "I carry dispatches to General Pemberton, and the more information I can give him the better."

"Yes, I kin tell you," replied the man, somewhat flattered. "They're posted everywhere. What, with their army and them boats of theirs in the river, they've got a high fence around us, all staked and ridered."

"It doesn't take any more work to tear a fence down than it does to build it up."

"I reckon you're right thar, stranger. But was you at Champion Hill?"

"No, I missed that."

"Then it was a good thing for you that you did. I didn't set much store by the Yanks when this war began. One good Southerner could whip five of 'em any time, our rip-roarin', fire-eatin' speech-makers said. I knowed then, too, that they was right, but I was up thar in Kentucky a while, an' after Donelson I reckoned that four was about as many as I wanted to tackle all to oncet. Then thar was Shiloh, an' I kinder had a thought that if three of 'em jumped on me at one time I'd hev my hands purty full to lick 'em. Then come Corinth, an,' reasonin' with myself, I said I wouldn't take on more'n two Yanks at the same time. An' now, since I've been at Champion Hill, I know that the Yank is a pow'ful good fighter, an' I reckon one to one jest about suits me, an' even then I'd like to have a leetle advantage in the draw."

"I feel that way about it, too. The Yankees are going to make a heap of trouble for us here. But I must be going. What's the best path into Vicksburg?"

"See that little openin' in the bushes. Follow it. Jest over the hill you'll run into a passel of our fellers, but pay no 'tention to 'em. If they ask you who you are an' whar you're boun' tell 'em to go straight to blazes, while you go to Vicksburg."

"Thank you," said Dick, "I like to meet an obliging and polite man like you. It helps even in war."

"Don't mention it. When I wuz a little shaver my ma told me always to mind my manners, an' when I didn't she whaled the life out of me. An', do you know, stranger, she's just a leetle, withered old woman, but if she could 'pear here right now I'd be willin' to set down right in these bushes an' say, 'Ma, take up that stick over thar an' beat me across the shoulders an' back with it as hard as you kin.' I'd feel good all over."

"I believe you," said Dick, who thought of his own mother.

He followed the indicated path until he was out of sight of everybody, and then he plunged into the bushes and marsh toward the river. When he was well hidden he stopped and considered.

It was quite evident that he had wandered from the right road, but it was no easy task to get back into it. There was an unconscious Confederate cordon about him and he must pass through it somewhere. He moved farther toward the river, but only went deeper into the swamp.

He turned to the south and soon reached firm ground, but he heard Confederate pickets talking in front of him. Then he caught glimpses of two or three men watching among the trees, and he lay down in a clump of bushes. He might pass them as he had passed the others, but he thought it wiser not to take the risk.

He was willing also to rest a little, as he had done a lot of hard walking. His clothing was now dry, and the mud had dried upon it.

He turned aside into one of the deep ravines and then into a smaller one leading from it. The bushes were dense there and he lay down among them, so completely hidden that he was invisible ten feet away. Here he still heard the mutter of the guns, which came in a long, droning sound, and occasionally a rifle cracked at some point closer by. The Union army was still busy and he felt a few moments of despondency. His dispatch undoubtedly was of great importance, and yet he was not able to deliver it. It was highly probable that for precaution's sake other messengers bore the same dispatch, but he was anxious to arrive with his nevertheless, and he wanted, too, to arrive first. The last now seemed impossible and the first improbable.

The crackling fire came nearer. Owing to the lack of percussion caps, Pemberton had ordered his men to use their rifles sparingly, but evidently a considerable body of sharpshooters near Dick were attempting a flanking movement of some kind, and meant to carry it out with bullets. He was impatient to see, but prudence kept him in his covert, a prudence that was soon justified, as presently he heard voices very near him and then the sound of footsteps.

He rose up a little and saw several hundred Confederate soldiers passing on the slopes not more than a hundred yards away. They went south of him, and he recognized with growing alarm that the wall across his way was growing higher. When they were gone and he could no longer hear their tread among the bushes he slipped from his hiding place and went directly toward Vicksburg. Being within an iron ring he thought that perhaps he would be safer somewhere near the center. He might make his way without much trouble through the vast confused crowd in Vicksburg, and then in the night go down the river's edge and to the fleet.

It was a daring idea, so very daring that it appealed to the strain of high adventure in the lad. He was encouraged, too, by his earlier and easy success in passing among the Confederate soldiers. But in order not to appear reckless and to satisfy his own conscience he tried once more for the way to the south. But the soldiers entirely barred the path there, and, being on some duty that required extreme vigilance, they were likely to prove exacting.

He advanced with a clear mind toward Vicksburg, picking his way among the forests and ravines, but, after long walking over most difficult ground, he saw before him extensive earthworks thronged with Southern troops. When he turned westward the result was the same, and then it became evident that there was no flaw in the iron ring. He could not go through to Porter, he could not go back to his own army, but Vicksburg invited him as a guest.

He would make the trial at night. It was a long wait, but he dared not risk it by day, and, going back into one of the ravines, he sought a secluded and sheltered place. Threshing the bushes to drive away possible snakes, he crawled into a clump and lay there. Resolved to be patient in spite of everything, he did not stir, but listened to the far throbbing of the cannon which poured an incessant storm of missiles upon unhappy Vicksburg.

The warmth and the heavy air in the ravine were relaxing. His brain grew so dull and heavy that he fell asleep, and when he awoke the twilight was coming. And yet he had lost nothing. He had gained rather. The time had passed. His body had been strengthened and his nerves steadied while he slept.

The distant booming of the guns still came. He had expected it. That was Grant. He had wrapped the coil of steel around Vicksburg and he would never relax. Dick felt that there was no hope for the town, unless Johnston outside could gather a powerful army and fight Grant on even terms. But he considered it impossible, and there, too, was the great artery of the river along which flowed men and supplies of every kind for the Union.

The Southern twilight turned swiftly into night and, coming from his lair, Dick walked boldly toward the town. He had eaten nothing since morning, but he had not noticed it, until this moment, when he began to feel a little faintness. He resolved that Vicksburg should supply him. It was curious how much help he expected of Vicksburg, a hostile town.

He saw lights soon both to right and to left and he strengthened his soul. He knew that he must be calm, but alert and quick with the right answer. With his singular capacity for meeting a crisis he advanced into the thick of danger with a smiling face, even as his great ancestor, Paul Cotter, had often done.

His calm was of short duration. There was a rushing sound, something struck violently, and a tremendous explosion followed. Fire flashed before Dick's eyes, pieces of red hot metal whistled past his head, earth spattered him and he was thrown to the ground.

He sprang up again, understanding all instantly. A shell from his own army had burst near him, and he had been thrown down by the concussion. But he had not been hurt, and in a few seconds his pulse beat steadily.

He heard a shout of laughter as he stood, brushing the fresh dirt from his clothing. He glanced up in some anger, but he saw at once that the arrival of the shell had been most fortunate for his plan. To come near annihilation by a Federal gun certainly invested him with a Confederate character.

It was a group of young soldiers who were laughing and their amusement was entirely good-natured. They would have laughed the same way had the harmless adventure befallen one of their own number. Dick judged that they were from the Southwest.

"Close call," he said, smiling that attractive smile, which was visible even in the twilight.

"It was a friendly shell," said one of the youths, "and it concluded not to come too close to you. These Yankee shells are so loving that sometimes they spray themselves in little pieces all over a fellow, like a shower of rice over a bride at a wedding."

"How long do you think the Yankees will keep it up?" asked Dick, putting indignation in his tone. "Haven't they any respect for the night?"

"Not a bit. That fellow Grant is a pounder. They say he'll blow away the whole plateau of Vicksburg if we don't drive him off."

"Well, we'll do it. You wait till old Joe Johnston comes up. Then we'll shut him between the jaws of a vise and squeeze the life out of him."

"Hope so. Where've you been?"

"Down below the town. I'm coming back with messages."

"So long. Good luck. Keep straight ahead, and you'll find all the generals you want."

The lights increased and he went into a small tavern, where he bought food and a cup of coffee, paying in gold. The tavern keeper asked no questions, but his eyes gleamed at sight of the yellow coin.

"Mighty little of this comes my way now," he said frankly, "and our own money is worth less and less every day. If things keep on the way they're headed it'll take a bale of it as big as a bale of cotton to pay for one good, square meal."

Dick laughed.

"Not so bad as that," he said. "You wait until we've given Grant a big thrashing and have cleared their boats out of the river. Then you'll see our money becoming real."

The man shook his head.

"Seein' will be believin'," he said, "an' as I ain't seein' I ain't believin'."

Dick with a friendly good night went out. Grant, the persistent, was still at work. His cannon flared on the dark horizon and the shells crashed in Vicksburg. Scarcely any portion of the town was safe. Now and then a house was smashed in and often the shells found victims.

The town was full of terror and confusion. Many of the rich planters had come there with their families for refuge. Women and children hid from the terrible fire, and the civilians already had begun to burrow. Caves had been dug deep into the sides of the ravines and hundreds found in them a rude but safe shelter.

Dick now found that his plans were going wrong. He could wander about almost at will and to any one to whom he spoke he still claimed to be a Tennesseean, but he knew that it could not last forever. Sooner or later, some officer would question him closely, and then his tale would be too thin for truth.

Unable to make a way toward the river, he returned to the slopes and ravines, where they were digging the caves, and then fortune which had been smiling upon him turned its face the other way. A small man in butternut and an enormous felt hat passed near. He did not see Dick, but his very presence gave the lad a shiver. He believed afterward that before he saw him he had felt the proximity of Slade.

The man, carrying a rifle, was hurrying toward the center of the town, and Dick, after one long look, hurried at equal speed the other way. He knew that Slade, if he saw him, would recognize him at once. Dusk and a muddy uniform would not protect him.

It was his idea now to go down through the ravines and make another trial toward the South. He saw ahead of him a line of intrenchments, which he was resolved to pass in some fashion, but the face of fortune was still away from him. The unknown officers who at any time might ask too many questions appeared.

A captain, a sunbrowned, alert man, stopped him at the edge of the bushes which clothed the slopes of the ravine.

"Your regiment?" he asked sharply.

"Tennessee regiment, sir," replied Dick, afraid to mention any number, since this officer might be a Tennesseean himself, and would want further identification. But the man was not to be put off—Dick judged from his uniform that he was a colonel—and demanded sharply his regiment's number and his business.

The lad mumbled something under his breath, hopeful that he would pass on, but the officer stepped forward, looked at him closely and then suddenly turned back the collar of his army jacket, disclosing a bit of the under side yet blue.

"Thunderation, a Yankee spy!" he exclaimed.

Dick always believed that his life was due to a sudden and violent impulse, or rather a convulsive jerk, because he had no time to think. He threw off the officer's hand, dashed his fist into his face, and, without waiting to see the effect, ran headlong among the bushes down the side of the ravine. He heard a shouting behind him, the reports of several shots, the rapid tread of feet, and he knew that the man-hunt was on.

He had all the instincts of the hunted to seek cover, and the night was his friend. But few lights glimmered in that portion of Vicksburg, and in many parts of the ravine the bushes were thick. He darted down the slope at great speed, then turned and ran along its side, still keeping well under cover. Where the shadows were darkest and the bushes thickest he paused panting.

He heard his pursuers calling to one another, and he also heard the excited voices of people in the ravine. The civilians had been aroused by the shots so close by and he thought the confusion would help him. He stood in the deep shadow, his breath gradually growing easier, and then he started down the ravine, coming to a little path that led along the side of the slope. He noticed a dark opening, and as the voices of pursuers were now coming nearer, he popped into it, trusting to blind luck.

Dick had thought it was a mere wash-out or deep recess, but at the third step his foot struck upon a carpet and he saw ahead a dim light. He paused, amazed, and then he remembered that he had heard about the civilians digging caves for shelter from the shells and bombs. Evidently some forethoughtful man had prepared his cave early.

Uncertain what to do he did nothing, pressing his back against the earth and listening. No sound came, and the dim light still flickering ahead reassured him.

The opening through which he had come was large, and admitted plenty of fresh air. As he stood four or five feet from the entrance he saw several soldiers hurrying along the path, and he knew they were hunting for him. He realized then his fortune in finding this improvised cave-house. After the soldiers passed he walked gently toward the light. Apparently the regular occupants were gone away for the time, and he might find a hiding place there until it was safe to go out.

The passage was narrow, but the carpet was still under his feet, and further in, the sides and roof of the earthen walls had been covered with planks. The light grew brighter and he was quite sure that a room of some size was just ahead. His curiosity became so great that it smothered all apprehension, and he stepped boldly into the room, where the lamp burned on a table.

He would have stepped back as quickly, but a pair of great burning eyes caught his and held them. A bed was standing against the board wall of the cave, and in this bed lay an old man with a huge bald head, immense white eyebrows and eyes of extraordinary intensity.

Once more did Colonel Charles Woodville and Richard Mason stare into the eyes of each other, and for a long time neither spoke.

"I managed to escape from Jackson with my little family," said the colonel at length, "and I thought that in this, so to say, sylvan retreat I might drop all undesirable acquaintances that I made there."

The whole scene was grotesque and wild to Dick. It was like a passage out of the Arabian Nights, and an extraordinary spirit of recklessness seized him.

"I appreciate your words, sir," he said, "and I can understand your feelings. I have felt myself that it was never wise to go where one might not be welcome, and yet chance plays us such tricks that neither your wish nor mine is granted."

The old man then raised his head a little higher on the pillow. A spark leaped from the burning eyes.

"A lad of spirit," he said. "I would not withhold praise where praise is due. I recall meeting some one who resembled you very much. Perhaps a brother of yours, eh?"

"No, he was not my brother."

"Well, it does not matter and we will not pursue the subject. How does it happen that you have come into this hillside castle of mine?"

Young Mason saw a flicker of amusement in the eyes of the old man. He was aware that in his muddy uniform he made no imposing figure, but his spirit was as high as ever, and the touch of recklessness was still there.

"I saw some men coming down the path," he replied; "men with whom I do not care to associate, and I turned aside to avoid them. I beheld the open door and stepped within, but I did not know the chamber was occupied, and it was far from my purpose to intrude upon you or any one. I trust, sir, that you will believe me."

The lad took off his cap and bowed. His face was now revealed more clearly, and it was a fine one, splendidly molded, intellectual, and with noble blue eyes. After all, despite the mud and stains, he made a graceful figure as he stood there, so obviously confident of himself, but respectful.

The spark leaped again from the eyes of Colonel Woodville, and, remembering something, there was a slight warmth about the heart which lately had been so cold and bitter.

"I do not blame you," he said. "A lad, one in his formative years, cannot be too careful about his associates. Doubtless you were justified in taking advantage of the open door. But now that you are here may I ask you what you purpose next to do?"

"I admit, sir, that the question is natural," replied Dick, suiting his tone and manner to those of the old man. "I have scarcely had time yet to form a purpose, but, since the danger of contamination of which we spoke still exists, it occurs to me that perhaps I might stay here a while. Is there some nook or a cover in which I might rest? I hope I do not trespass too much upon your hospitality."

Colonel Woodville pondered. His great white eyebrows were drawn together and, for a moment or two, he gazed down the beak of his nose.

"I confess," he said, "that the appeal to hospitality moves me. I am stirred somewhat, too, by pleasant recollections of the lad who looked like you. But wait, my daughter is coming. We will confer with her. Margaret is a most capable woman."

Dick heard a light step in the passage and he wheeled quickly. Miss Woodville was before him, a plain, elderly figure in a plain black dress, with a basket on her arm. The basket contained a fowl and some eggs which she had just bought at a great price. When she saw Dick her hand flew to her throat, but when the pulse ceased to beat so hard it came away and she looked at him fixedly. Then a slow smile like the dawn spread over the severe, worn face.

"Come in, Margaret, and put down your basket," said the colonel in a genial tone. "Meanwhile bid welcome to our unexpected guest, a young man of spirit and quality with whom I was holding converse before you came. He does not wish to go out to-night, because there are many violent men abroad, and he would avoid them."

Then he turned to Dick, and asked in a tone, sharp and commanding:

"I have your word, young sir, that your unexpected visit to our city was not of a secret nature; that is, it was not of a lawless character?"

"An accident, sir, an accident pure and simple. I answer you on my honor. I have seen nothing and I shall not seek to see anything which I should not see."

"Margaret," continued the colonel, and now his tone became deferential as behooved a gentleman speaking to a lady, "shall we ask him to share our simple quarters to-night?"

The lad slowly turned his gaze to the face of the woman. He felt with all the power of intuition that his fate rested on her decision. But she was a woman. And she was, too, a true daughter of her father. A kindred spark leaped up in her own soul, and she met Dick's gaze. She noted his fearless poise, and she saw the gallant spirit in his eye. Then she turned to her father.

"I think you wish him to stay, sir," she said, "and the wish seems right to me. Our narrow quarters limit our hospitality in quality, but not in intent. We can offer him nothing but the little alcove behind the blanket."

She inclined her head toward the blanket, which Dick had not noticed before. It hung near the bed and, wishing to cause this household little trouble, he said:

"Then I assume that you will shelter me for the night, and, if I may, I will go at once to my room."

Colonel Woodville lowered his head upon the pillow and laughed softly.

"A lad of spirit. A lad of spirit, I repeat," he said. "No, Margaret, you and I could not have turned him from our earthen roof."

Dick bowed to Miss Woodville, and that little ghost of a tender smile flitted about her thin lips. Then he lifted the blanket, stepped into the dark, and let the curtain fall behind him.

He stood for a space until his eyes, used to the dusk, could see dimly. It was a tiny room evidently used as a place of storage for clothing and bedding, but there was space enough for him to lie down, if he bent his knees a little.

The strain upon both muscle and nerve had been very great, and now came collapse. Removing his shoes and outer clothing he dropped upon a roll of bedding and closed his eyes. But he was grateful, deeply and lastingly grateful. The bread that he had cast upon the waters was returning to him fourfold.

He heard low voices beyond the blanket, and he did not doubt that they were those of Colonel Woodville and his daughter. The woman in plain black, with the basket on her arm, had seemed a pathetic figure to him. He could not blame them for feeling such intense bitterness. What were the causes of the war to people who had been driven from a luxurious home to a hole in the side of a ravine?

He slept, and when he woke it seemed to be only a moment later, but he knew from the slender edge of light appearing where the blanket just failed to touch the floor that morning had come. He moved gently lest he disturb his host in the larger room without, and then he heard the distant thunder, which he knew was the booming of Grant's great guns. And so the night had not stopped them! All through the hours that he slept the cannon had rained steel and death on Vicksburg. Then came a great explosion telling him that a shell had burst somewhere near. It was followed by the voice of Colonel Woodville raised in high, indignant tones:

"Can't they let a gentleman sleep? Must they wake him with one of their infernal shells?"

He heard a slight rustling sound and he knew that it was the great bald head moving impatiently on the pillows. Inferring that it was early, he would have gone back to sleep himself, but slumber would not come. He remained a while, thoughtful, for his future lay very heavy upon him, and then he heard the sound of several voices beyond the blanket.

He listened closely, trying to number and distinguish them. There were three and two belonged to Colonel Woodville and his daughter. The third repelled and puzzled him. It seemed to have in it a faint quality of the fox. It was not loud, and yet that light, snarling, sinister note was evident.

The sensitive, attuned mind can be easily affected by a voice, and the menace of the unknown beyond the blanket deepened. Dick felt a curious prickling at the roots of his hair. He listened intently, but he could not understand anything that was spoken, and then he drew himself forward with great caution.

They must be talking about something of importance, because the voices were earnest, and sometimes all three spoke at once. He reached a slow hand toward the blanket. The danger would be great, but he must see.

He drew back the blanket slightly, a quarter of an inch, maybe, and looked within the room. Then he saw the owner of the sinister voice, and he felt that he might have known from the first.

Slade, standing before Colonel Woodville's bed, his hat in his hand, was talking eagerly.



CHAPTER X. THE GREAT ASSAULT

The light from the door that was always open illumined the room. The rising sun must have struck full upon it, because it was almost as bright as day there. Slade was in his butternut uniform, and his rifle leaned against the wall. Now that he had made the slight opening Dick could understand their words.

"There are spies within Vicksburg, sir," said Slade. "Colonel Dustin detected one last night, but in the darkness he escaped down this ravine. The alarm was spread and he could not have got outside our lines. I must catch him. It will be a credit to me to do so. I was under your command, and, although not in active service owing to your wound, your word will go far. I want you to get me an order to search every house or place in which he could hide."

"Not too much zeal, my worthy Slade. Talleyrand said that, but you never heard of him. Excessive suspicion is not a good thing. It was your chief fault as an overseer, although I willingly pay tribute to your energy and attention to detail. This business of hunting spies is greatly overdone. The fate of Vicksburg will be settled by the cannon and the rifles."

"But, sir, they can do us great harm."

"Listen to that, my good Slade."

The deep booming note of the distant cannon entered the cave.

"That is the sound of Grant's guns. He can fight better with those weapons than with spies."

But Slade persisted, and Colonel Woodville, with an occasional word from his daughter, fenced with him, always using a light bantering tone, while the lad who lay so near listened, his pulses beating hard in his temples and throat.

"Your vigilance is to be commended, my good Slade," Dick heard Colonel Woodville say, "but to-day at least I cannot secure such a commission for you from General Pemberton. We hear that Grant is massing his troops for a grand attack, and there is little time to thresh up all our own quarters for spies. We must think more of our battle line. To-morrow we may have a plan. Come back to me then, and we will talk further on these matters."

"But think, sir, what a day may cost us!"

"You show impatience, not to say haste, Slade, and little is ever achieved by thoughtless haste. The enemy is closing in upon us, and it must be our chief effort to break his iron ring. Ah, here is my nephew! He may give us further news on these grave matters."

Dick saw the entrance darken for a moment, then lighten again, and that gallant youth, Victor Woodville, with whom he had fought so good a fight, stood in the room. He was still pale and he carried his left arm in a sling, but it was evident that his recovery from his wound had been rapid. Dick saw the stern face of the old colonel brighten a bit, while the tender smile curved again about the thin lips of the spinster.

Young Woodville gave a warm greeting to his uncle and elderly cousin, and nodded to Slade. Dick believed from his gesture that he did not like the guerilla leader, or at least he hoped so.

"Victor," said the colonel, "what word do you bring?"

"Grant is advancing his batteries, and they seem to be massing for attack. It will surely come in a day or two."

"As I thought. Then we shall need all our energies for immediate battle. And now, Mr. Slade, as I said before, I will see you again to-morrow about the matter of which we were speaking. I am old, wounded, and I grow weary. I would rest."

Slade rose to go. He was not a pleasant sight. His clothes were soiled and stained, and his face was covered with ragged beard. The eyes were full of venom and malice.

"Good day, Colonel Woodville," he said, "but I feel that I must bring the matter up again. As a scout and leader of irregulars for the Confederacy. I must be active in order to cope with the enemy's own scouts and spies. I shall return early to-morrow morning."

Colonel Woodville waved his hand and Slade, bowing, withdrew.

"Why was he so persistent, Uncle Charles?" asked Victor. "He seemed to have some underlying motive."

"He always has such a motive, Victor. He is a man who suspects everybody because he knows everybody has a right to suspect him. He may even have been suspecting me, his old, and, I fear, too generous employer. He has a mania about a spy hidden somewhere in Vicksburg."

Young Victor Woodville laughed gayly.

"What folly," he said, "for your old overseer, a man of Northern origin to boot, to suspect you, of all men, of helping a Yankee in any way. Why, Uncle Charles, everybody knows that you'd annihilate 'em if you could, and that you were making good progress with the task until you got that wound."

Colonel Woodville drew his great, white eyebrows together in his characteristic way.

"I admit, Victor, that I'm the prince of Yankee haters," he said. "They've ruined me, and if they succeed they'll ruin our state and the whole South, too. We've fled for refuge to a hole in the ground, and yet they come thundering at the door of so poor an abode. Listen!"

They heard plainly the far rumble of the cannon. The intensity of the fire increased with the growing day. Shells and bombs were falling rapidly on Vicksburg. The face of Colonel Woodville darkened and the eyes under the white thatch burned.

"Nevertheless, Victor," he said, "hate the Yankees as I do, and I hate them with all my heart and soul, there are some things a gentleman cannot do."

"What for instance, Uncle?"

"He cannot break faith. He cannot do evil to those who have done good to him. He must repay benefits with benefits. He cannot permit the burden of obligation to remain upon him. Go to the door, Victor, and see if any one is lurking there."

Young Woodville went to the entrance and returned with word that no one was near.

"Victor," resumed Colonel Woodville, "this man Slade, who was so preposterously wrong, this common overseer from the hostile section which seeks with force to put us down, this miserable fellow who had the presumption to suspect me, lying here with a wound, received in the defense of the Confederacy, was nevertheless right."

Victor stared, not understanding, and Colonel Woodville raised himself a little higher on his pillows.

"Since when," he asked of all the world, "has a Woodville refused to pay his debts? Since when has a Woodville refused asylum to one who protected him and his in the hour of danger? Margaret, lift the blanket and invite our young friend in."

Dick was on his feet in an instant, and came into the chamber, uttering thanks to the man who, in spite of so much bitterness against his cause, could yet shelter him.

Young Woodville exclaimed in surprise.

"The Yankee with whom I fought at Bellevue!" he said.

"And the one who ignored your presence at Jackson," said Miss Woodville.

The two lads shook hands.

"And now," said Colonel Woodville, his old sharpness returning, "we shall be on even terms, young sir. Your uniform bears a faint resemblance to that of your own army, and Slade, cunning and cruel, may have had you shot as a spy. You would be taken within our lines and this is no time for long examinations."

"I know how much I owe you, sir," said Dick, "and I know how much danger my presence here brings upon you. I will leave as soon as the ravine is clear. The gathering of the troops for battle will give me a chance."

"You will do nothing of the kind. Having begun the task we will carry it through. Our cave home rambles. There is a little apartment belonging to Victor, in which you may put yourself in shape. I advise you to lie quiet here for a day or two, and then if I am still able to put my hand on you I may turn you over with full explanations to the authorities."

Dick noted the significance of the words, "if I am still able to put my hand on you," but he merely spoke of his gratitude and went with young Woodville into the little apartment. It was on the right side of the hall, and a round shutterless hole opened into the ravine, admitting light and air. The "window," which was not more than a foot in diameter faced toward the east and gave a view of earthworks, and the region beyond, where the Union army stood.

The room itself contained but little, a cot, some blankets, clothing, and articles of the toilet.

"Mason," said Woodville, "make yourself as comfortable as you can here. I did not know until I escaped from Jackson that it was you who ignored my presence there. You seem in some manner to have won the good opinion of my uncle, and, in any event, he could not bear to remain in debt to a Yankee. If you're careful you're safe here for the day, although you may be lonesome. I must go at once to our lines. Cousin Margaret will bring you something to eat."

They shook hands again.

"I can't do much fighting," said Woodville, "owing to this wounded arm of mine, but I can carry messages, and the line is so long many are to be taken."

He went out and Miss Woodville came soon with food on a tray. Dick suspected that they could ill spare it, but he must eat and he feared to offer pay. It embarrassed him, too, that she should wait upon him, but, in their situation, it was absolutely necessary that she do so, even were there a servant somewhere, which he doubted. But she left the tray, and when she returned for it an hour later she had only a few words to say.

Dick stood at the round hole that served as a window. There were bushes about it, and, at that point, the cliff seemed to be almost perpendicular. He was safe from observation and he looked over a vast expanse of country. The morning was dazzlingly clear, and he saw sections of the Confederate earthworks with their men and guns, and far beyond them other earthworks and other guns, which he knew were those of his own people.

While he stood there alone, free from the tension that had lasted while Slade was present, he realized the great volume of fire that the Northern cannon were pouring without ceasing upon Vicksburg. The deep rumble was continually in his ears, and at times his imagination made the earth shake. He saw two shells burst in the air, and a shattering explosion told that a third struck near by. To the eastward smoke was always drifting. The Southern cannon seldom replied.

He resolved to attempt escape during the coming night. It hurt him to bring danger upon the Woodvilles and he wished, too, to fulfill his mission. Others, beyond question, would reach the fleet with the message, but he wished to reach it also.

Yet nothing new occurred during all the long day. Miss Woodville brought him more food at noon, but scarcely spoke. Then he returned to the hole in the cliff, and remained there until twilight. Young Woodville came, and he gathered from his manner that there had been no important movement of the armies, that all as yet was preparation. But he inferred that the storm was coming, and he told Victor that he meant to leave that night.

He was opposed vehemently. The line of Southern sentinels watched everywhere. Slade was most vigilant. He might come at any time into the ravine. No, he must wait. The next night, perhaps, but in any event he must remain a while.

Nor did he depart the next night either. Instead, two or three days passed, and he was still in the house dug in the hillside, a guest and yet a captive. The bombardment had gone on, his food was still brought to him by Miss Woodville, and once or twice Victor came, but Dick, as he was in honor bound, asked him no question about the armies.

The waiting, the loneliness and the suspense were terrible to one so young, and so ambitious. And yet he had fared better than he had a right to expect, a fact, however, that did not relieve his situation.

Another night came, and he went to sleep in his lonely cell in the wall, but he was awakened while it was yet intensely dark by a cannonade far surpassing in violence any that had gone before. He rushed to the hole, but he could see nothing in the ravine. Yet the whole plateau seemed to shake with the violence of the concussions and the crash of exploding shells.

The fire came from all sides, from the river as well as the land. The boom of the huge mortars on the boats there sounded above everything. Dick knew absolutely now that the message he was to carry had been delivered by somebody else.

He heard under the continued thunder of the guns sharp commands, and the tread of many troops moving. He knew that the Southern forces were going into position, and he felt himself that the tremendous fire was the prelude to a great attack. His excitement grew. He strained his eyes, but he could see nothing in the dark ravine, or out there where the cannon roared, save the rapid, red flashes under the dim horizon. He had his watch and he had kept it running. Now he was able to make out that it was only three o'clock in the morning. A long time until day and he must wait until then to know what such a furious convulsion would achieve.

The slow time passed, and there was no decrease of the fire. Once or twice he came away from the window and listened at the entrance to his little room, but he could hear nothing stirring in the larger chamber. Yet it was incredible that Colonel Woodville and his daughter should not be awake. They would certainly be listening with an anxiety and suspense not less than his.

Dawn came after painful ages, and slowly the region out there where the Union army lay rose into the light. But it was a red dawn, a dawn in flame and smoke. Scores of guns crashed in front, and behind the heavy booming of the mortars on the boats formed the overnote of the storm.

The opening was not large, but it afforded the lad a good view, and he thrust his head out as far as he could, every nerve in him leaping at the deep roar of the cannonade. He had no doubt that the assault was about to be made. He was wild with eagerness to see it, and it was a cruel hurt to his spirit that he was held there, and could not take a part in it.

He thought of rushing from the place, and of seeking a way through the lines to his own army, but a little reflection showed him that it would be folly. He must merely be a witness, while Colonel Winchester, Warner, Pennington, the sergeant, Colonel Hertford, all whom he knew and the tens of thousands whom he did not know, fought the battle.

A tremendous sound, distant and steady, would not blot out much smaller sounds nearby, and now he heard noises in the larger chamber. The voice of Colonel Woodville was raised in sharp command.

"Lift me up!" he said, "I must see! Must I lie here, eating my soul out, when a great battle is going on! Help me up, I say! Wound or no wound, I will go to the door!"

Then the voice of Miss Woodville attempting to soothe was heard, but the colonel broke forth more furiously than ever, not at her, but at his unhappy fate.

Dick, spurred by impulse, left his alcove and entered the room.

"Sir," he said respectfully to Colonel Woodville, "you are eager to see, and so am I. May I help you?"

Colonel Woodville turned a red eye upon him.

"Young man," he said, "you have shown before a sense of fitness, and your appearance now is most welcome. You shall help me to the door, and I will lean upon you. Together we will see what is going to happen, although I wish for one result, and you for another. No, Margaret, it is not worth while to protest any further. My young Yankee and I will manage it very well between us."

Miss Woodville stepped aside and smiled wanly.

"I think it is best, Miss Woodville," Dick said in a low tone.

"Perhaps," she replied.

Colonel Woodville impatiently threw off the cover. He wore a long purple dressing gown, and his wound was in the leg, but it was partly healed. Dick helped him out of the bed and then supported him with his arm under his shoulder. Within that singular abode the roar of the guns was a steady and sinister mutter, but beneath it now appeared another note.

Colonel Woodville had begun to swear. It was not the torrent of loud imprecation that Dick had heard in Jackson, but subdued, and all the more fierce because it was so like the ferocious whine of a powerful and hurt wild animal. Swearing was common enough among the older men of the South, even among the educated, but Colonel Woodville now surpassed them all.

Dick heard oaths, ripe and rich, entirely new to him, and he heard the old ones in new arrangements and with new inflections. And yet there was no blasphemy about it. It seemed a part of time and place, and, what was more, it seemed natural coming from the lips of the old colonel.

They reached the door, the cut in the side of the ravine, and at once a wide portion of the battlefield sprang into the light, while the roar of the guns was redoubled. Dick would have stepped back now, but Colonel Woodville's hand rested on his shoulder and his support was needed.

"My glasses, Margaret!" said the colonel. "I must see! I will see! If I am but an old hound, lying here while the pack is in full cry, I will nevertheless see the chase! And even if I am an old hound I could run with the best of them if that infernal Yankee bullet had not taken me in the leg!"

Miss Woodville brought him the glasses, a powerful pair, and he glued them instantly to his eyes. Dick saw only the field of battle, dark lines and blurs, the red flare of cannon and rifle fire, and towers and banks of smoke, but the colonel saw individual human beings, and, with his trained military eye, he knew what the movements meant. Dick felt the hand upon his shoulder trembling with excitement. He was excited himself. Miss Woodville stood just behind them, and a faint tinge of color appeared in her pale face.

"The Yankees are getting ready to charge," said the colonel. "At the point we see they will not yet rush forward. They will, of course, wait for a preconcerted signal, and then their whole army will attack at once. But the woods and ravines are filled with their skirmishers, trying to clear the way. I can see them in hundreds and hundreds, and their rifles make sheets of flame. All the time the cannon are firing over their heads. Heavens, what a bombardment! I've never before listened to its like!"

"What are our troops doing, father?" asked Miss Woodville.

"Very little yet, and they should do little. Pemberton is showing more judgment than I expected of him. The defense should hold its fire until the enemy is well within range and that's what we're doing!"

The colonel leaned a little more heavily upon him, but Dick steadied himself. The old man still kept the glasses to his eyes, and swept them back and forth in as wide an arc as their position permitted. The hills shook with the thunder of the cannon, and the brilliant sun, piercing through the smoke, lighted up the vast battle line.

"The attack of the skirmishers grows hotter," said the old man. "The thickets blaze with the fire of their rifles. Heavy masses of infantry are moving forward. Now they stop and lie on their arms. They are awaiting the word from other parts of the field, and it shows with certainty that a grand attack is coming. Two batteries of eight guns each have come nearer. I did not think it possible for the fire of their cannon to increase, but it has done so. Young sir, would you care to look through the glasses?"

"I believe not, Colonel. I will trust to the naked eye and your report."

It was an odd feeling that made Dick decline the glasses. If he looked he must tell to the others what he saw, and he wished to show neither exultation nor depression. The colonel, the duty of courtesy discharged, resumed his own position of witness and herald.

"The columns of infantry are getting up again," he said. "I see a man in what I take to be a general's uniform riding along their front. He must be making a speech. No doubt he knows the desperate nature of the attack, and would inspire them. Now he is gone and other officers, colonels and majors are moving about."

"What are the skirmishers doing, Colonel?"

"Their fire is not so hot. They must be drawing back. They have made the prelude, and the importance of their role has passed. The masses of infantry are drawing together again. Now I see men on horseback with trumpets to their lips. Yes, the charge is coming. Ah-h! That burnt them!"

There was a terrific crash much nearer, and Dick knew that it was the Southern batteries opening fire. The shoulder upon which the colonel's hand rested shook a little, but it was from excitement. He said nothing and Colonel Woodville continued:

"The smoke is so heavy I can't see what damage was done! Now it has cleared away! There are gaps in the Yankee lines, but the men have closed up, and they come on at the double quick with their cannon still firing over their heads!"

In his excitement he took his hand off Dick's shoulder and leaned forward a little farther, supporting himself now against the earthen wall. Dick stood just behind him, shielded from the sight of any one who might be passing in the ravine, although there was little danger now from searchers with a great battle going on. Meanwhile he watched the combat with an eagerness fully equal to that of the old colonel.

The mighty crash of cannon and rifles together continued, but for a little while the smoke banked up in front so densely that the whole combat was hidden from them. Then a wind slowly rolled the smoke away. The figures of the men began to appear like shadowy tracery, and then emerged, distinct and separate from the haze.

"They are nearer now," said the Colonel. "I can plainly see their long lines moving and their light guns coming with them. But our batteries are raking them horribly. Their men are falling by the scores and hundreds."

Miss Woodville uttered a deep sigh and turned her face away. But she looked again in a few moments. The terrible spell was upon her, too.

Dick's nerves were quivering. His heart was with the assailants and theirs with the assailed, but he would not speak aloud against the hopes of Colonel Woodville and his daughter, since he was in their house, such as it was, and, in a measure, under their protection.

"Their charge is splendid," continued the colonel, "and I hope Pemberton has made full use of the ground for defense! He will need all the help he can get! Oh, to be out of the battle on such a day! The smoke is in the way again and I can see nothing. Now it has passed and the enemy is still advancing, but our fire grows hotter and hotter! The shells and the grape and the canister and the bullets are smashing through them. They cannot live under it! They must go back!"

Nevertheless the blue lines came steadily toward the Southern earthworks. Dick saw officers, some ahorse, and some afoot, rushing about and encouraging the men, and he saw many fall and lie still while the regiments passed on.

"They are in the nearer thickets," cried the colonel, "and now they're climbing the slopes! Ah, you riflemen, your target is there!"

The Northern army was so near now that the Southern rifle fire was beating upon it like a storm. Never flinching, the men of the west and northwest hurled themselves upon the powerful fortified positions. Some reached shelves of the plateau almost at the mouths of the guns and hung there, their comrades falling dead or dying around them, but now the rebel yell began to swell along the vast line, and reached the ears of those in the ravine.

"The omen of victory!" exclaimed the colonel exultantly. "Our brave lads feel that they're about to triumph! Grant can't break through our line! Why doesn't he call off his men? It's slaughter!"

Dick's heart sank. He knew that the colonel's words were true. The Southern army, posted in its defenses, was breaking the ring of steel that sought to crush it to death. Groups of men in blue who had seized ground in the very front of the defenses either died there or were gradually driven back. The inner ring along its front of miles thundered incessantly on the outer ring, and repelled every attempt to crush it.

"They yield," said the colonel, after a long time. "The Northern fire has sunk at many points, and there! and there! they're retreating! The attack has failed and the South has won a victory!"

"But Grant will come again," said Dick, speaking his opinion for the first time.

"No doubt of it," said Colonel Woodville, "but likely he will come to the same fate."

He spoke wholly without animosity. The battle now died fast. The men in gray had been invincible. Their cannon and rifles had made an impenetrable barrier of fire, and Grant, despite the valor of his troops, had been forced to draw off. Many thousands had fallen and the Southern generals were exultant. Johnston would come up, and Grant, having such heavy losses, would be unable to withstand the united Confederate armies.

But Grant, as Colonel Woodville foresaw, had no idea of retreating. Fresh troops were pouring down the great river for him, and while he would not again attempt to storm Vicksburg, the ring of steel around it would be made so broad and strong that Pemberton could not get out nor could Johnston get in.

When the last cannon shot echoed over the far hills Colonel Woodville turned away from the door of his hillside home.

"I must ask your shoulder again, young sir," he said to Dick. "What I have seen rejoices me greatly, but I do not say it to taunt you. In war if one wins the other must lose, and bear in mind that you are the invader."

"May I help you back to your bed, sir?" asked Dick.

"You may. You are a good young man. I'm glad I saved you from that scoundrel, Slade. As the score between us is even I wish that you were out of Vicksburg and with your own people."

"I was thinking, too, sir, that I ought to go. I may take a quick departure."

"Then if you do go I wish you a speedy and safe journey, but I tell you to beware of one, Slade, who has a malicious heart and a long memory."

Dick withdrew to his own cell, as he called it, and he passed bitter hours there. The repulse had struck him a hard blow. Was it possible that Grant could not win? And if he could not win what terrible risks he would run in the heart of the Confederacy, with perhaps two armies to fight! He felt that only the Mississippi, that life-line connecting him with the North, could save him.

But as dusk came gradually in the ravine he resolved that he would go. His supper, as usual, was brought to him by Miss Woodville. She was as taciturn as ever, speaking scarcely a half-dozen words. When he asked her if Victor had gone through the battle unharmed she merely nodded, and presently he was alone again, with the dusk deepening in the great gully.

Dick was confident that nobody but Colonel Woodville, his daughter, and himself were in the cave-home. It was but a small place, and new callous places on her hands indicated that she was doing the cooking and all other work. His resolve to risk everything and go was strengthened.

He waited patiently until the full night had come and only the usual sounds of an army in camp arose. Then he made ready. He had surrendered his holster and pistols to Colonel Woodville, and so he must issue forth unarmed, but it could not be helped. He had several ten dollar gold pieces in his pocket, and he put one of them on the tiny table in his cell. He knew that it would be most welcome, and he could not calculate how many hundreds in Confederacy currency it was worth. He was glad that he could repay a little at least.

Then he stepped lightly toward the larger chamber in which Colonel Woodville lay. The usual candle was burning on the table near his bed, but the great bald head lay motionless on the pillow, and the heavy white eyebrows drooped over closed lids. Sound asleep! Dick was glad of it. The colonel, with his strong loyalty to the South, might seek to hold him, at least as his personal prisoner, and now the trouble was avoided.

He moved gently across the floor, and then passed toward the open door. How good that puff of fresh air and freedom felt on his face! He did not know that Colonel Woodville raised his head on the pillow, glanced after him, and then let his head sink back and his eyes close again. A low sigh came between the colonel's lips, and it would have been difficult to say whether it was relief or regret.

Dick stepped into the narrow path cut in the side of the ravine and inhaled more draughts of the fresh air. How sweet and strong it was! How it filled one's lungs and brought with it life, courage and confidence! One had to live in a hole in a hill before he could appreciate fully the blessed winds that blew about the world. He knew that the path ran in front of other hollows dug in the earth, and he felt sorry for the people who were compelled to burrow in them. He felt sorry, in truth, for all Vicksburg, because now that he was outside his fears for Grant disappeared, and he knew that he must win.

While he remained in the path a deep boom came from the direction of the Union army and a huge shell burst over the town. It was followed in a moment by another and then by many others. While the besieged rejoiced in victory the besiegers had begun anew the terrible bombardment, sending a warning that the iron ring still held.

Dick paused no longer, but ran rapidly along the path until he emerged upon the open plateau and proceeded toward the center of the town. He judged that in the hours following a great battle, while there was yet much confusion, he would find his best chance.

He had reckoned rightly. There was a great passing to and fro in Vicksburg, but its lights were dim. Oil and candles alike were scarce, and there was little but the moon's rays to disclose a town to the eye. The rejoicings over the victory had brought more people than usual into the streets, but the same exultation made them unsuspicious, and Dick glided among them in the dusk, almost without fear.

He had concluded that "the longest way around was the shortest way through," and he directed his steps toward the river. He had formed a clear plan at last, and he believed that it would succeed. Twisting and turning, always keeping in the shadows, he made good progress, descended the bluff, and at last stood behind the ruins of an old warehouse near the stream.

Southern batteries were not far away from him and he heard the men talking. Then, strengthening his resolution, he came from behind the ruins, flung himself almost flat on the ground, and crawled toward the river, pushing in front of him a board, which some Northern gun had shot from the warehouse.

He knew that his task was difficult and dangerous, though in the last resort he could rush to the water and spring in. But he was almost at the edge before any sentinel saw the black shadow passing over the ground.

A hail came, and Dick flattened himself against the ground and lay perfectly still. Evidently the sentinel was satisfied that his fancy had been making merry with him, as he did not look further at the shadow, and Dick, after waiting two or three minutes, resumed his slow creeping.

He reached the edge, shoved the board into it, and dropped gently into the water beside it, submerged to the head. Then, pushing his support before him, he struck out for the middle of the stream.



CHAPTER XI. THE TAKING OF VICKSBURG

Dick was a fine swimmer, he had a good stout plank, and the waters of the river were warm. He felt that the chief dangers were passed, and that the muddy Mississippi would now bear him safely to the blockading fleet below. He gave the plank another shove, sending it farther out into the stream, and then raised himself up until his elbows rested upon it. He could thus float gently with a little propulsion from his legs to the place where he wanted to go.

He saw lights along the bluff and the bar below, and then, with a sudden shoot of alarm he noticed a dim shadow move slowly from the shore. It was a long boat, holding a dozen rowers, and several men armed with rifles, and it was coming toward him. He did not know whether it was merely an ordinary patrol, or whether they had seen the darker blot on the stream that he and the plank made, but in any event the result would be the same.

He slipped his arm off the plank and sank in the stream to the chin. Then, propelling it gently and without any splashing of the water, he continued to move down the stream. He was hopeful that the riflemen would mistake him and his plank for one of those stumps or logs which the Mississippi carries so often on its bosom.

The head of the boat turned from him a little, and he felt sure now that he would drift away unnoticed, but one of the soldiers suddenly raised his rifle and fired. Dick heard the bullet clip the water close beside him, and he swam as hard as he could for a few moments. Then he settled again into quiet, as he saw the boat was not coming toward him. Doubtless the man had merely fired the shot to satisfy himself that it was really a log, and if Dick allowed it to float naturally he would be convinced.

It was a tremendous trial of nerves to run the gantlet in this way, but as it was that or nothing he exerted all his will upon his body, and let himself float slowly, sunk again to the mouth and with his head thrown back, so it would present only a few inches above the surface.

The boat turned, and seemed once upon the point of coming toward him. He could hear the creaking of the oars and the men talking, but they turned again suddenly and rowed up the stream. Again, his fate had hung on a chance impulse. He drifted slowly on until the town and the bluffs sank in the darkness. Then he drew himself upon his plank and swam, doubling his speed. He knew that some of the Union gunboats lay not far below, and, when he rounded a curve, he saw a light in the stream, but near the shore.

He approached cautiously, knowing that the men on the vessel would be on guard against secret attack, and presently he discerned the outlines of a sidewheel steamer, converted into a warship and bearing guns. He dropped down by the side of his plank until he was quite close, and then, raising himself upon it again, he shouted with all his voice: "Ship ahoy!"

He did not know whether that was the customary method of hailing on the Mississippi, but it was a memory from his nautical reading, and so he shouted a second and yet a third time at the top of his voice: "Ship ahoy!" Figures bearing rifles appeared at the side, and a rough voice demanded in language highly unparliamentary who was there and what he, she or it wanted.

Dick was in a genial mood. He had escaped with an ease that surprised him, and the warmth of the water in which he was immersed had saved him from cramp or chill. The spirit of recklessness seized him again. He threw himself astride his plank, and called out:

"A detachment of the army of the United States escaped from captivity in Vicksburg, and wishing to rejoin it. It's infantry, not marines, and it needs land."

"Then advance infantry and give the countersign."

"Grant and Victory," replied Dick in a loud, clear voice.

A laugh came from the steamer, and the rough voice said again:

"Let the detachment advance again, and holding up its hands, show itself."

Dick paddled closer and, steadying himself as well as he could, threw up his hands. The light of a ship's lantern was thrown directly on his face, and the same voice ordered men to take a small boat and get him.

When Dick stepped upon the deck of the steamer, water streaming from his clothes, several men looked at him curiously. One in a dingy blue uniform he believed to be the owner of the rough voice. But his face was not rough.

"Who are you?" asked the man.

"Lieutenant Richard Mason of Colonel Winchester's regiment in the army of General Grant, sent several days ago with a message to the fleet, but driven by Confederate scouts and skirmishers into Vicksburg, where he lay hidden, seeking a chance of escape."

"And he found it to-night, coming down the river like a big catfish."

"He did, sir. He could find no other way, and he arrived on the useful board which is now floating away on the current."

"What proof have you that you are what you say."

"That I saw you before you saw me and hailed you."

"It's not enough."

"Then here is the message that I was to have delivered to the commander of the fleet. It's pretty wet, but I think you can make it out."

He drew the dispatch from the inside pocket of his waistcoat. It was soaked through, but when they turned the ship's lantern upon it the captain could make out its tenor and the names. Doubt could exist no longer and he clapped his hands heartily upon the lad's shoulder.

"Come into the cabin and have something to eat and dry clothes," he said. "This is the converted steamer Union, and I'm its commander, Captain William Hays. I judge that you've had an extraordinary time."

"I have, captain, and the hardest of it all was when I saw our army repulsed to-day."

"It was bad and the wounded are still lying on the field, but it doesn't mean that Vicksburg will have a single moment of rest. Listen to that, will you, lieutenant?"

The far boom of a cannon came, and Dick knew that its shell would break over the unhappy town. But he had grown so used to the cannonade that it made little impression upon him, and, shrugging his shoulders, he descended the gangway with the captain.

Clothing that would fit him well enough was found, and once more he was dry and warm. Hot coffee and good food were brought him, and while he ate and drank Captain Hays asked him many questions. What was the rebel strength in Vicksburg? Were they exultant over their victory of the day? Did they think they could hold out? What food supply did they have?

Dick answered all the questions openly and frankly as far as he could. He really knew little or nothing about those of importance, and, as for himself, he merely said that he had hid in a cave, many of which had been dug in Vicksburg. He did not mention Colonel Woodville or his daughter.

"Now," said Captain Hays, when he finished his supper, "you can have a bunk. Yes, lieutenant, you must take it. I could put you ashore to-night, but it's not worth while. Get a good night's sleep, and we'll see to-morrow."

Dick knew that he was right, and, quelling his impatience, he lay down in one of the bunks and slept until morning.

Then, after a solid breakfast, he went ashore with the good wishes of Captain Hays, and, a few hours later, he was with the Union army and his own regiment. Again he was welcomed as one dead and his own heart was full of rejoicing because all of his friends were alive. Warner alone had been wounded, a bullet cutting into his shoulder, but not hurting him much. He wore a bandage, his face had a becoming pallor, and Pennington charged that he was making the most of it.

"But it was an awful day," said Warner, "and there's a lot of gloom in the camp. Still, we're not moving away and the reinforcements are coming."

Dick explained to Colonel Winchester why he had failed in his mission, and the colonel promised to report in turn to the commander that the hand of God had intervened. Dick's conscience was now at rest, and he resumed at once his duties with the regiment.

Many days passed. While Grant did not make any other attack upon Vicksburg his circle of steel grew tighter, and the rain of shells and bombs upon the devoted town never ceased. Reinforcements poured forward. His army rose to nearly eighty thousand men, and Johnston, hovering near, gathering together what men he could, did not dare to strike. Dick was reminded more than once of Caesar's famous siege of Alesia, about which he had read not so long ago in Dr. Russell's academy at Pendleton.

There were long, long days of intrenching, skirmishing and idleness. May turned into June, and still the steel coil enclosed Vicksburg. Here the Union men were hopeful, but the news from the East was bad. Not much filtered through, and none of it struck a happy note. Lee, with his invincible legions, was still sweeping northward. Doubtless the Confederate hosts now trod the soil of a free State, and Dick and his comrades feared in their very souls that Lee was marching to another great victory.

"I wish I could hear from Harry Kenton," said Dick to Warner. "I'd like to know whether he passed through Chancellorsville safely."

"Don't you worry about him," said Warner. "That rebel cousin of yours has luck. He also has skill. Let x equal luck and y skill. Now x plus y equals the combination of luck and skill, which is safety. That proves to me mathematically that he is unharmed and that he is riding northward—to defeat, I hope."

"We've got to win here," said Dick. "If we don't, I'm thinking the cause of the Union will be more than doubtful. We don't seem to have the generals in the East that we have in the West. Our leaders hang on here and they don't overestimate the enemy."

"That's so," said Pennington. "Now, I wonder what 'Pap' Thomas is doing."

"He's somewhere in Tennessee, I suppose, watching Bragg," said Dick. "That's a man I like, and, I think, after this affair here is over, we may go back to his command. If we do succeed in taking Vicksburg, it seems likely to me that the heavy fighting will be up there in Tennessee, where Bragg's army is."

"Do you know if your uncle, Colonel Kenton, is in Vicksburg?"

"I don't think so. In fact, I'm sure he isn't. His regiment is with Bragg. Well, George, what does your algebra tell us?"

Warner had taken out his little volume again and was studying it intently. But he raised his head long enough to reply.

"I have just achieved the solution of a very important mathematical problem," he answered in precise tones. "An army of about thirty-five thousand men occupies a town located on a river. It is besieged by another army of about seventy-five thousand men flushed with victory. The besiegers occupy the river with a strong fleet. They are also led by a general who has shown skill and extraordinary tenacity, while the commander of the besieged has not shown much of either quality and must feel great discouragement."

"But you're only stating the side of the besieged."

"Don't interrupt. It's impolite. I mean to be thoroughly fair. Now come the factors favoring the besieged. The assailing army, despite its superior numbers, is far in the enemy's country. It may be attacked at any time by another army outside, small, but led by a very able general. Now, you have both sides presented to you, but I have already arrived at the determining factor. What would you say it is, Dick?"

"I don't know."

"You haven't used your reasoning powers. Remember that the man who not merely thinks, but who thinks hard and continuously always wins. It's very simple. The answer is in four letters, f-o-o-d, food. As we know positively, Pemberton was able to provision Vicksburg for five or six weeks. We can't break in and he can't break out. When his food is exhausted, as it soon will be, he'll have to give up. The siege of Vicksburg is over. I know everything, except the exact date."

Dick was inclined to believe that Warner was right, but he forgot about his prediction, because a mail came down the river that afternoon, and he received a letter from his mother, his beautiful young mother, who often seemed just like an elder sister.

She was in Pendleton, she wrote, staying comfortably in their home. The town was occupied by three companies of veteran Union troops who behaved well. They were always glad to have a garrison of good soldiers whether Federal or Confederate—sometimes it was one and sometimes the other. But she thought the present Union force would remain quite a while, as she did not look for the reappearance of the Southern army in Kentucky. But if the town were left without troops she would go back to her relatives in the Bluegrass, as Bill Skelly's band to the eastward in the mountains was raiding and plundering and had become a great menace. Guerillas were increasing in numbers in those doubtful regions.

"The regular troops will have to deal with those fellows later on," said Dick.

"Dr. Russell has had a letter from Harry Kenton," continued Mrs. Mason. "It was written from some point near the Pennsylvania line, and, while Harry did not say so in his letter, I know that General Lee is expecting a great victory in the North. Harry was not hurt at Chancellorsville, but he says he does not see how he escaped, the fire of the cannon and rifles being more awful than any that he had ever seen before. He was present when General Jackson was mortally wounded, and he seems to have been deeply affected by it. He writes that the Confederacy could better have lost a hundred thousand men."

There was more in the letter, but it was strictly personal to Dick, and it closed with her heartfelt prayer that God, who had led him safely so far, would lead him safely through all.

After reading it several times he put it in a hidden pocket. Soldiers did not receive many letters and they always treasured them. Ah, his dear, beautiful young mother! How could anyone ever harm her! Yet the thought of Skelly and his outlaws made him uneasy. He hoped that the Union garrison would remain in Pendleton permanently.

His mind was soon compelled to turn back to the siege. They were digging trenches and creeping closer and closer. Warner had made no mistake in his mathematics. The army and the people in Vicksburg had begun to suffer from a lack of food. They were down to half rations. They had neither tea nor coffee, and medicines were exhausted. Many and many a time they looked forth from their hills and prayed for Johnston, but he could not come. Always the Union flag floated before them, and the ring of steel so strong and broad was contracting inch by inch.

The Northern engineers ran mines under the Confederate works. They used every device of ingenious minds to push the siege. Spies brought word that all food would soon be gone in Vicksburg, and Grant, grim of purpose, took another hitch in the steel belt about the hopeless town. The hostile earthworks and trenches were now so near that the men could hear one another talking. Sometimes in a lull of the firing they would come out and exchange tobacco or news. It was impossible for the officers to prevent it, and they really did not seek to do so, as the men fought just as well when they returned to their works.

June now drew to a close and the great heats of July were at hand. Dick was convinced that the defense of Vicksburg was drawing to a like close. They had proof that some of the irregulars in Vicksburg had escaped through the lines and he was convinced that Slade would be among them. They were the rats and Vicksburg was the sinking ship.

They heard that Johnston had gathered together twenty-five thousand men and was at last marching to the relief of the town. Dick believed that Grant must have laughed one of his grimmest laughs. They knew that Johnston's men were worn and half-starved, and had been harassed by other Union troops. Johnston was skillful, but he would only be a lean and hungry wolf attacking a grizzly bear. He was sure that all danger from him had passed.

Now, as they closed in the Northern guns increased their fire. It seemed to Dick that they could have blown away the whole plateau of Vicksburg by this time. The storm of shells raked the town, and he was glad that the people had been able to dig caves for refuge. Colonel Woodville must be doing some of his greatest swearing now. Dick thought of him with sympathy and friendliness.

"I don't think it can last much longer, Mr. Mason," said Sergeant Daniel Whitley on the morning of the second of July. "Their guns don't answer ours often and it means that they're out of ammunition, or almost. Besides, you can stand shells and bullets easier than lack of food. 'Pears to me I can nearly feel 'em crumpling up before us."

Trumpets blew the next morning. All the firing ceased suddenly and the three lads saw a Southern general with several officers of lower rank, riding forward under a white flag. It was Bowen, who came out to meet Grant.

Dick drew a deep, long breath. He knew that this was the end. So did his comrades. A cheer started and swept part of the way along the lines, but the officers quickly stopped it.

"Vicksburg is ours," said Dick.

"Looks like it," said Warner.

But Grant told Bowen that he would treat only with Pemberton, and after delays General Pemberton came out. General Grant went forward to meet him. The two stood alone under a tree within seventy yards of the Confederate lines and talked.

Chance or fortune presented a startling coincidence. Almost at the very moment that Grant and Pemberton met under the tree Pickett's men were rising to their feet and preparing for the immortal but fatal charge at Gettysburg. While the cannon had ceased suddenly at Vicksburg they were thundering from many score mouths at Gettysburg. Fortune was launching two thunderbolts upon the Confederacy at the same moment. They were to strike upon fields a thousand miles apart, and the double blow was to be mortal.

But Dick knew nothing of Gettysburg then, nor was he to know anything until days afterward. He certainly had no thought of the East while he watched the two generals under the tree. Dick's comrades were with him, but so intense was their curiosity that none of them spoke. Thousands of men were gazing with the same eagerness, and the Southern earthworks were covered with the defenders.

It was one of the most dramatic scenes in Dick's life, the two men under the tree, and the tens of thousands who watched. Nobody moved. It seemed that they scarcely breathed. After the continuous roar of firing the sudden silence was oppressive, and Dick felt the blood pounding in his ears.

The heat was close and heavy. Black clouds were floating up in the west, and lightning glimmered now and then on the horizon. Although the storm threatened no one noticed. All eyes were still for Grant and Pemberton. After a while each returned to his own command, and there was an armistice until the next day, when the full surrender was made, and Grant and his officers rode into Vicksburg. At the same time Lee was gathering his men for the retreat into the South from the stricken field of Gettysburg. It was the Fourth of July, the eighty-seventh anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, and no one could have possibly conceived a more striking celebration.

As soon as Dick was free for a little space he hurried to the ravine, and, as before, found there the open door. He passed in without hesitation.

The light as of old filtered into the room, and Colonel Woodville lay just as before in bed with his great bald head upon the pillow. Miss Woodville sat beside the bed, reading aloud from Addison. Dick's step was light, but the colonel heard him and held up a finger. The lad paused until Miss Woodville, finishing a long sentence, closed the book. Then the colonel, raising a little the great white thatch of his eyebrows, said:

"Young sir, you have returned again, and, personally, you are welcome, but I do not conceive how you can stand the company you keep. My daughter informs me that the Yankees are in Vicksburg, and I have no reason to doubt the statement."

He paused, and Dick said:

"Yes, Colonel, it's true."

"I suppose we must endure it. I should have gone myself and have offered my sword to General Grant, but this confounded leg of mine is still weak."

"At least, sir, we come with something besides arms. May I bring you rations?"

"You are generous, young man, and my daughter and I appreciate the obvious nature of your errand here. Speaking for both of us, a little food will not be unwelcome."

"Tell me first, what has become of your nephew. Has he escaped from the city?"

"He slipped out nearly a week ago, and will join his father's regiment in Bragg's command. That scoundrel, Slade, is gone too. Since the city had to be surrendered I would gladly have made you a present of Slade, but it's out of my power now."

Dick soon returned with ample food for them and helped them later, when they moved to quarters outside in the shell-torn city. Dick saw that they were comfortable, and then his mind turned toward Tennessee. Detachments from Grant's army were to be sent to that of Rosecrans, who was now heavily threatened by Bragg, and the Winchester regiment, which really belonged with him, was sure to go.

The order to march soon came, and it was welcome. The regiment, or rather what was left of it, promptly embarked upon one of the river steamers and started northward.

As they stood on the deck and looked down at the yellow waters in which Dick had swum on his trusty plank Warner said:

"I've news of importance. It arrived in a telegram to General Grant, and I heard it just as we were coming on board."

"What is it?" asked Dick.

"General Lee was defeated in a great battle at a little place called Gettysburg in Pennsylvania, and has retreated into Virginia."

"Gettysburg and Vicksburg!" exclaimed Dick. "The wheel has turned nearly 'round. The Confederacy is doomed now."

"I think so, too," said Warner.



CHAPTER XII. AN AFFAIR OF THE MOUNTAINS

Although they were on board one of the fastest steamers in the Union service, Dick and his comrades had a long journey by river. But it was not unpleasant. They enjoyed the rest and ease after the weeks of fighting and service in the trenches before Vicksburg. The absence of war and the roar of cannon and rifles was like a happy dream between days of fighting. As they went northward on the great river it almost seemed as if peace had returned.

Warner studied his algebra and two other books of mathematics which he was lucky enough to find on board. Pennington slept a great deal of the time.

"I learned it on the plains from the Indians," he said. "When they don't have anything to do they sleep and gather strength for the hour of need. I think the time is coming soon when they won't let me sleep at all, and then I can draw on the great supply I have in stock."

"Likely enough it's near," said Dick dreamily. "They say Bragg has a great army now, and you know that, while Rosecrans is slow he's pretty sure. Thomas and McCook and the others are with him, too. I expect to see 'Pap' Thomas again. He's a general to my liking."

"And to mine, too," said Pennington, "but we can talk about him later on, because I'm going to sleep again inside of a minute."

Dick was not averse to silence, as he, too, was half asleep; that is, he was in a dreamy stage, and he was at peace with the world and his fellow men. From under drooping eyelids he was vaguely watching the low shores of the Mississippi, and the great mass of yellow waters moving onward from the far vague forests of the North in their journey of four thousand miles to the gulf.

Like all boys of the great valley, Dick always felt the romance and spell of the Mississippi. It was to him and them one of the greatest facts in the natural world, the grave of De Soto, the stream on which their fathers and forefathers had explored and traded and fought since their beginnings. Now it was fulfilling its titanic role again, and the Union fleets upon its bosom were splitting the Confederacy asunder.