The Rock of Chickamauga by Joseph A. Altsheler (top 5 books to read TXT) 📕

luxurious breakfasts we mean to mount and ride hard toward Grant. We're

scouts, but according to Whitley the scouts are scouted, and this is a

bad country to be trapped in."

Dick was so strong and his blood was so pure that he felt his wounds

but little now. The cuts and bruises were healing fast and he ate with a

keen appetite. He heard then of the signs that Whitley had seen. He had

found two broad trails, one three miles from the house, and the other

about four miles. Each indicated the passage of several hundred men, but

he had no way of knowing whether they belonged to the same force. They

were bound to be Confederate cavalry as Colonel Winchester's regiment

was known to be the only Union force in that section.

Dick knew their position to be dangerous. Colonel Winchester had done

his duty in discovering that Forrest and Wheeler were raiding through

Mississippi, and that a heavy force was gathering in the rear of Grant,

who intended the siege of Vicksburg. It behooved him now to reach Grant

as soon as he could with his news.

Refreshed and watchful, the regiment rode away from Bellevue. Dick

looked back at the broad roof and the great piazzas, and then he thought

of young Woodville with a certain sympathy. They had fought a good fight

against each other, and he hoped they would meet after the war and be

friends.

It was about an hour after sunrise, and the day was bright and warm. The

beads of water that stood on every leaf and blade of grass were drying

fast, and the air, despite its warmth, was pure and bracing. Dick, as

he looked at the eight hundred men, tanned, experienced and thoroughly

armed, under capable leaders, felt that they were a match for any roving

Southern force.

"Just let Forrest come on," he said. "I know that the Colonel is aching

to get back at him for that surprise in Tennessee, and I believe we

could whip him."

"You're showing great spirit for a man who was beaten up in the prize

ring as you were last night. I thought you'd want to rest for a few

days."

"Drop it, George. I did get some pretty severe cuts and bruises, but I

was lucky enough to have the services of two very skillful and devoted

young physicians. Their treatment was so fine that I'm all right

to-day."

"Unless I miss my guess, we'll need the services of doctors again before

night comes. No mountains are here, but this is a great country for

ambush. It's mostly in forest, and even in the open the grass is already

very tall. Besides, there are so many streams, bayous, and ponds. Notice

how far out on the flanks the skirmishers and scouts are riding, and

others ride just as far ahead."

Two miles from Bellevue and they came to a small hill, covered with

forest, from the protection of which the officers examined the country

long and minutely, while their men remained hidden among the deep

foliaged trees. Dick had glasses of his own which he put to his eyes,

bringing nearer the wilderness, broken here and there by open spaces

that indicated cotton fields. Yet the forest was so dense and there

was so much of it that a great force might easily be hidden within its

depths only a mile away.

"Have we any information at all about Forrest's strength?" whispered

Pennington to Dick.

"His full force isn't down here. It is believed he has not more than a

thousand or twelve hundred men. But he and his officers know the country

thoroughly, and of course the inhabitants, being in full sympathy with

them, will give them all the information they need. The news of every

movement of ours has been carried straight to the rebel general."

"And yet the country seems to have no people at all. We come to but few

houses, and those few are deserted."

"So they are. What was that? Did you see it, Frank?"

"What was what?"

"I forgot that you are not using glasses. I caught a momentary glitter

in the woods. I think it was a sunbeam passing through the leaves and

striking upon the polished barrel of a rifle. Ah! there it is again! And

Colonel Winchester has seen it too."

The colonel and his senior officers were now gazing intently at the

point in the wood where Dick had twice seen the gleam, and, keener-eyed

than they, he continued to search the leafy screen through his own

glasses. Soon he saw bayonets, rifles, horses and men advancing swiftly,

and then came two of their own scouts galloping.

"The enemy is advancing!" they cried. "It's Forrest!"

A thrill shot through Dick. The name of Forrest was redoubtable, but

he knew that every man in the regiment was glad to meet him again. He

glanced at Colonel Winchester and saw that his face had flushed. He knew

that the colonel was more than gratified at this chance.

"We'll make our stand here," said Colonel Winchester. "The hill runs to

the right, and, as you see over there, it is covered with forest without

undergrowth. Thus we can secure protection, and at the same time be able

to maneuver, mounted."

The regiment was posted rapidly in two long lines, the second to fire

between the intervals of the first. They carried carbines and heavy

cavalry sabers, and they were the best mounted regiment in the Northern

service.

Yet these men, brave and skillful as they were, were bound to feel

trepidation, although they did not show it. They were far in the

Southern forest, cut off from their army, and Forrest, in addition

to his own cavalry, might have brought with him fresh reserves of the

enemy.

Dick, Warner, and Pennington, as usual, remained close to their colonel,

and Sergeant Daniel Whitley was not far away. But Colonel Winchester

presently rode along the double line of his veterans, and he spoke to

them quietly but with emphasis and conviction:

"My lads," he said, "you see Forrest's men coming through the woods to

attack us. Forrest is the greatest cavalry leader the South has, west of

the Alleghanies. Some of you were with me when we were surprised and cut

up by him in Tennessee. But you will not be surprised by him now, nor

will you be cut up by him. All of you have become great riders, a match

for Forrest's own, and as I look upon your faces here I know that there

is no fear in a single heart. You have served under Grant, and you have

served under Thomas. They are two generals who always set their faces

toward the front and never turn them toward the rear. You will this day

prove yourselves worthy of Grant and Thomas."

They were about to cheer, but he checked it with the simple gesture of

a raised hand. Then they did a thing that only a beloved leader could

inspire. Every man in the regiment, resting his carbine across the

pommel of his saddle, drew his heavy cavalry saber and made it whirl in

coils of glittering light about his head.

The great pulse in Dick's throat leaped as he saw. The long double line

seemed to give back a double flash of flame. Not a word was said, and

then eight hundred sabers rattled together as they were dropped back

into their scabbards. Colonel Winchester's face flushed deeply at the

splendid salute, but he did not speak either. He took off his cap and

swept it in a wide curve to all his men. Then he turned his face toward

the enemy.

The Southern trumpet was singing in the forest, and the force of

Forrest, about twelve hundred strong, was emerging into view. Dick,

through his glasses, saw and recognized the famous leader, a powerful,

bearded man, riding a great bay horse. He had heard many descriptions of

him and he knew him instinctively. He also recognized the fact that the

Winchester regiment had before it the most desperate work any men could

do, if it beat off Forrest when he came in his own country with superior

numbers.

Neither side had artillery, not even the light guns that could be

carried horse- or muleback. It must be left to carbine and saber.

Colonel Winchester carefully watched his formidable foe, trying to

divine every trick and expedient that he might use. He had a memory to

avenge. He had news to carry to Grant, and Forrest must not keep

him from carrying it. Moreover, his regiment and he would gain great

prestige if they could beat off Forrest. There would be glory for the

whole Union cavalry if they drove back the Southern attack. Dick saw the

glitter of his colonel's eye and the sharp compression of his lips.

But the men of Forrest, although nearly within rifle shot, did not

charge. Their bugle sang again, but Dick did not know what the tune

meant. Then they melted away into the deep forest on their flank, and

some of the troop thought they had gone, daunted by the firm front of

their foe.

But Dick knew better. Forrest would never retreat before an inferior

force, and he was full of wiles and stratagems. Dick felt like a

primitive man who knew that he was being stalked by a saber-toothed

tiger through the dense forest.

Colonel Winchester beckoned to Sergeant Whitley. "Pick a half-dozen

sharp-eyed men," he said, "and ride into those woods. You're experienced

in this kind of war, Whitley, and before you go tell me what you think."

"General Forrest, sir, besides fighting as a white man fights, fights

like an Indian, too; that is, he uses an Indian's cunning, which is

always meant for ambush and surprise. He isn't dreaming of going away.

They're coming back through the thick woods."

"So I think. But let me know as soon as you can."

Ten minutes after the sergeant had ridden forward with his comrades they

heard the sound of rapid rifle shots, and then they saw the little band

galloping back.

"They're coming, sir," reported the sergeant. "Forrest has dismounted

several hundred of his men, and they are creeping forward from tree to

tree with their rifles, while the others hold their horses in the rear."

"Then it's an Indian fight for the present," said Colonel Winchester.

"We'll do the same."

He rapidly changed his lines of battle. The entire front rank was

dismounted, while those behind held their horses. The four hundred in

front, spreading out in as long a line as possible in order to protect

their flanks, took shelter behind the trees and awaited the onset.

The attack was not long in coming. The Southern sharpshooters, creeping

from tree to tree, began to fire. Scores of rifles cracked and Dick,

from a convenient place behind a tree, saw the spouts of flame appearing

along a line of four or five hundred yards. Bullets whizzed about him,

and, knowing that he would not be needed at present for any message, he

hugged the friendly bark more tightly.

"It's lucky we have plenty of trees," said a voice from the shelter of

the tree next to him. "We have at least one for every officer and man."

It was Warner who spoke and he was quite cheerful. Like Colonel

Winchester, he seemed to look forward to the combat with a certain joy,

and he added:

"You'll take notice, Dick, old man, that we've not been surprised.

Forrest hasn't galloped over us as he did before. He's taking the

trouble to make the approach with protected riflemen. Now what is the

sergeant up to?"

Sergeant Whitley, after whispering a little with Colonel Winchester,

had stolen off toward the right with fifty picked riflemen. When they

reached the verge of the open space that lay between the two sides they

threw themselves down in the thick, tall grass. Neither Dick nor Warner

could see them now. They beheld only the stems of the grass waving as if

under a gentle wind. But Dick knew that the rippling movement marked the

passage of the riflemen.

Meanwhile the attack in their front was growing hotter. At least six

or seven hundred sharpshooters were sending a fire which would have

annihilated them if it had not been for the trees. As it was, fragments

of bark, twigs, and leaves showered about them. The whistling of the

bullets and their chugging as they struck the trees made a continuous

sinister note.

The Union men were not silent under this fire. Their own rifles were

replying fast, but Colonel Winchester continually urged them to take

aim, and, while death and wounds were inflicted on the Union ranks, the

Southern were suffering in the same manner.

Dick turned his eyes toward the right flank, where the fifty picked

riflemen, Sergeant Whitley at their head, were crawling through the

tall grass. He knew that they were making toward a little corner of the

forest, thrust farther forward than the