Chapter XXVIII: Louis and Andy Meet Again

“Firefly!” burst from the lips of the young Union soldier. “Whoa, old fellow! Where is your master?”

At this question Firefly halted and looked at Louis as though he would like very much to talk. The bullet wound made the beast quiver with pain, and the youth stroked him affectionately.

“Been in a scrimmage, I’ll wager a pilot cracker,” the boy went on. “Was Andy killed? Oh, I sincerely trust not!” And something like a lump came up in his throat.

Firefly whinnied and shook his mane vigorously. Then he turned, as if to lead Louis down a narrow path branching off from that on the ridge. At once the boy understood and followed the animal.

Scarcely three hundred feet had been passed when Louis heard the murmur of voices, coming from a little clearing, backed up by a treacherous swamp. As he drew closer, he recognized Andy’s voice:

“Let me alone, Jacks, or it will be the worse for you,” the young Confederate cavalryman was saying. “You are nothing but a thief, I know, but you shall not rob me.”

“We are two to one, Arlington,” came from Sam Jacks. “And I ain’t forgot how yer interfered with me an’ my pards up ter Lee Run. I’m a-goin’ ter git squar’, I am.”

“It’s a mighty fine gold watch the kid’s got,” put in another, and now Louis recognized the vicious face of Caleb Fox through the brush. “It ought ter be wuth fifty dollars an’ more.”

“You wounded my horse and made him run away,” went on Andy. “I ought to shoot you both for that.”

“Ye can’t frighten us, Arlington,” chuckled Sam Jacks. “Don’t we know neither of yer pistols is loaded? An’ if yer try to draw thet saber--” Jacks finished by suggestively tapping his own pistol.

An instant later there came a savage howl from Caleb Fox, who had come close to Andy with the intention of searching him. The young Confederate had whipped out his saber and the point had caught Fox in the fleshy part of his left lower limb.

“Back, I say!” cried Andy, as he took a stand near a tree. Wild with rage Caleb Fox drew a long horse-pistol from his belt.

“I’ll fix yer!” he fairly hissed, and aimed the weapon at Andy’s head. Before, however, he could pull the trigger, if such was really his intention, there came a sharp crack from the brush and the pistol fell to the ground while Fox began to dance around in pain, a bullet wound directly through his wrist.

“Louis!” burst from Andy’s lips, as the young Union soldier rushed forward. “Was it you shot him?”

“It was, Andy; and I’ll shoot him again if he attempts another such attack. Rascals like these are a disgrace to any army. Up with your hands, Sam Jacks!”

For Jacks had made a motion towards his belt. Louis’s pistol was now on a level with the mountaineer’s head, his eyes shone with cool determination--and the hands went up as requested.

“This ain’t fair an’ squar’,” muttered Sam Jacks. “Put thet gun down--it might go off.” And he endeavored to step out of range.

“Stand still, Jacks,” commanded Louis, “or my pistol will go off, and Fox can testify to what sort of a bead I can draw.”

“My wrist is broke!” moaned Fox, still dancing about. “You young villain! If ever I git a chance--”

“No threats, Fox. The best thing you can do is to wet your handkerchief, if you have one, in yonder pool and bind the wound up. Stop--that pistol can remain where it is--or Andy, perhaps you had better pick it up.”

“I will, seeing that my own is unloaded,” answered Andy. “But what brought you here, and in that outfit?”

“I’ll explain later. At present--Hi, Jacks, stop!”

But Sam Jacks was not stopping just then. Watching his chance, he had leaped for the shelter of the nearest bushes. Now he went tearing along at a breakneck speed. Louis tried to follow him, but soon stopped the pursuit, thinking it would be useless to catch the rascal. Presently the sounds of his footsteps died away in the distance.

“He’s gone,” he announced, upon returning to the clearing. “You may as well let Fox go, too. I reckon he has learned a lesson he won’t forget in a hurry.”

“Won’t you let me have my pistol?” demanded the guerrilla.

“No,” was the short reply. “Go, and be thankful you have saved your life,” answered Andy. “If ever I catch sight of you near our camp I’ll report you and have you both put under arrest as battlefield thieves.”

Muttering under his breath, Caleb Fox slunk off, one hand holding the wounded wrist. He pursued the direction Jacks had taken--a path leading to the rendezvous of the guerrillas.

The pair of rascals gone, Louis and Andy shook hands. “I owe you one for this,” said Andy, with a warm smile. “If you hadn’t appeared there is no telling what those two would have done to me. Perhaps they might have killed me and pitched me into the swamp.” And he shuddered at the thought.

“It was Firefly brought me here,” answered Louis, and patted the animal affectionately. “But why are you out here alone?”

“I am carrying a message to General Longstreet, and I reckon I got on the wrong road. But what have you got to say for yourself? I heard you were either shot or a prisoner.”

“I was a prisoner, Andy; but I managed to get away, and now I’m trying to return to my own camp--if I can find it.”

“Don’t you know you are in our lines?” and Andy looked deeply concerned.

“Oh, yes, I know that only too well. I suppose I’ll have no picnic running the picket line.”

“Hang me if I don’t wish I could help you, Louis. I know it’s all wrong, according to the rules of war, but--but--well, you know what they say, ‘Blood is thicker than water,’ and such a friendship as ours--”

“Can’t be shattered by the bullets and shells of war,” finished Louis, with a short laugh. “I should trust not, Andy. Come what may, I shall always look upon you as a brother, even though I’ll do my level best to help the North win in this great struggle.”

“And I shall always hold you as my best and only chum, Louis,” was the warm reply, “and of course I’ll fight just as hard as I can for our side. How are your folks?”

“Father is quite well again, and mother is, too,” answered Louis, and told of the trouble at the farm and how he now hoped to clear it. “In the last letter written by Lucy, she and Martha wanted to know if I ever heard of you. What of your people?”

“Father is not so well. Mother has a good deal of trouble taking care of him. Grace writes to me every week, and last week she wanted to know if she could get a letter through to you,” and Andy closed one eye, at which Louis blushed furiously.

“You are making that up, Andy--don’t tell me you are not. However, remember me to Grace, and tell her I am doing nicely in spite of fights and bad weather. If you-- Hark! Some soldiers are coming! They must be some of your troops, and if that is so, I must be going. Good-bye, Andy, and may we meet again soon!”

“Good-bye, Louis. Oh, if I could only see you safe to your camp! Yes, you must hurry, for the soldiers are coming on the double-quick! Hark! there are rifle shots! There must be a skirmish of some kind over to the left!”

“If there is, it will help me through, Andy. Good-bye!” And with a last fervid hand-clasp the two chums parted, not to meet again until the memorable battle of Malvern Hill.

As Andy had said, the sounds of firing came from the left. Running along the ridge trail, Louis kept on until he reckoned he was about midway between the two lines of shots, although still to the right of the scene of the contest. He then slowed up and proceeded through the bushes with great caution, his pistol cocked and ready for instant use.

Less than a hundred and fifty feet had been covered in this fashion, when he reached another clearing which marked, east and west, the picket lines of the two armies. The firing was now close at hand, and presently, from the cover of the woods, came scampering a company of boys in blue closely followed by twice their number of boys in gray. The former were reloading their guns as they came on, the Confederates opening fire meanwhile and causing several to drop in their tracks.

Throwing away his gray cap, Louis darted into the clearing and joined the flying Union men. As he went on he picked up a gun one of the wounded soldiers had cast away.

“Union or reb?” came the question, as the company halted behind some bushes.

“Union, captain,” was the prompt answer. “I’ve been a rebel prisoner.”

There was no time to say more, for the company was now ordered to about face, and the advancing Confederates received a reception which caused a hasty retreat; and the skirmish was over. During the siege such skirmishes were of almost daily occurrence. The picket lines were re-established, the dead and wounded cared for, and that was the end of the matter, save for the great “blowing” done afterwards upon both sides.

The excitement over, Louis was conducted to the rear, where he had to give a strict account of himself to the general in charge of the regiment stationed in the woods. This was done in order to ascertain beyond all doubt that he was not a Confederate spy. He was informed where his own regiment was located, nearly a mile away, and a corporal was detailed to conduct him hither and learn if his story was a true one.

“Louis! We had given you up for lost!” cried Harry Bingham, when he appeared, and the youth was soon surrounded by friends. He lost no time in reporting to his commander. When Captain Paulding learned that he had really been in Richmond and had had a chance of overlooking the fortifications there with a field glass, he sent word to headquarters to that effect.

The next day came an important order for Louis. It was from General McClellan, to the effect that he should present himself at the headquarters of the commander-in-chief without delay.