Chapter I: Front Matter

Copyright, 1895, by HARPER & BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.

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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, JULY 2, 1895. FIVE CENTS A COPY.

VOL. XVI.--NO. 818. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

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A MISPLACED "FOURTH."

BY JAMES BARNES.

The male population of Middleton, Ohio, in the early summer of 186- appeared to consist altogether of old men and boys. True, a few young men, most of them dressed in blue coats with brass buttons, were to be seen on the streets, but nearly all of them carried their arms in slings, and one tall lad of twenty, who had once been the best runner in the village, hobbled along on crutches, with an empty trouser leg pinned up at the knee.

One bright morning three Middleton boys were sitting astride the top rail of a zigzag fence that ran along a hillside at the edge of a thicket of underbrush. A long Kentucky rifle lay across a near-by log. One of the boys held in his hand a glass bottle slopped with a bit of rag. Another had on a leather belt with "U.S." on the brass plate--upside down. The third boy was digging at the rail with a dull jackknife.

"I came near to running away and goin' as a drummer-boy," said the youngster with the belt, "but they wouldn't take me on account of my age. I'll be old enough this fall," he added. "Then you'll see."

"Your mother wouldn't let you go, Skinny," said the boy with the bottle. "She told Grandad that two was enough."

"Father'd let me go if he warn't with Sherman," said Skinny, "and brother Bill said I drummed good enough."

"My father wants me to stay home and look after ma," the second boy sighed. There had been no news of his father for six months, now.

"I've got a letter from Alfred, written jes before he was taken prisoner, I guess," said the third boy, closing his knife. He drew out of his pocket an envelope with the picture of an American flag on it.

"Go on and read it to us," said the oldest boy, wriggling himself up closer. And Hosmer Curtis began--following the words with his thumb:

"CRUMMS'S LANDING.

"DEAR BROTHER,--I wish I was to home to-night, with you all
sitting in the kitchen, and mother reading to us the way she used
to, rather than being here. I am writing this by moonlight mostly,
as it is getting late. We have had a big fight all day, but drove
the Rebs back across a crick into a swamp, where we captured a lot
of them stuck in the mud. I am dreadful sorry to say that Tom
Ditchard was killed. Poor Tom! I suppose the home papers will tell
all about it; he was shot fording the crick. I have his watch; he
gave it to me to bring back home. I hope I shall do so. To-morrow
we will move westward to head off Morgan, I guess; I hope we won't
march far, for my boots are all worn out, and my feet are sore.
But I am well; love to all, and kiss mother. I wrote her two days
ago.

"Your affec brother,
ALFRED.

"P.S.--The Fourth of July will soon be here. I suppose you will
have no fireworks, though perhaps we shall. Good-by."

"I don't know as I'd like to be a soldier," said the boy with the gunpowder bottle--he was also the proud possessor of the long rifle. "'Tisn't so much fun, I guess. Think so, Skinny?"

"You're a 'fraid-cat," returned the boy with the belt. "That's what you are, Will Tevis."

The other flushed, but said nothing; he was by far the smallest of the three.

"How do you know Alfred was captured?" said the thin one, after a silence of a minute.

"He was on the missing list--that's all we know," said Hosmer, putting the letter back into his pocket.

"It will be the Fourth in two days, now," remarked Skinny, as if to change the subject. "But I hain't heard any talk about any celebration."

"Let's have one all to ourselves," suggested Hosmer.

"What with?" asked the smallest boy. "I guess this is all the gunpowder there is in town." He held up the bottle. "'Tain't more'n three charges, anyhow," he added.

"I know where there's all the powder you want to look at," said the thin warrior, who jumped suddenly down from the fence. "Oh! and I say, you know the two old iron cannon--if we could only get them out--hey?"

"They're locked up in the engine-house," rejoined Master Tevis.

"What's the matter with an anvil? It makes a lot of noise," suggested Hosmer. "Where do you get the powder, Skinny?"

"Skinny," whose real name was Ambrose F. Skinner, Jun., assumed a very mysterious air.

"Now, listen, and I'll tell you," he said. "You remember when they had that smash up on the railroad last week--don't you?"

"You mean the train going South to the army?" asked Hosmer.

"Yep, that's it. Happened last Thursday," responded Ambrose, growing excited. "Well! they ran two banged-up cars back on the siding above the river-bridge, and left 'em. I guess they forgot, p'r'aps. But the worst-busted car is loaded with powder. I saw the barrels: one of them had a big hole in it. I say, come along, I'll show you. 'Tain't far."

"Come on; let's!" was the united answer. The two listeners jumped to the ground, and Master Tevis picked up the rifle. Then the three struck off across the hill, and walked along a path through the thicket of scrub-oak.

In a few minutes the boys were standing beside two heavy freight-cars on a crooked timber switch. The end of one had been broken in as if by a collision, and the trucks of both were injured.

Skinny climbed into the wrecked car, and lifted the end of a tarpauling that covered some barrels.

"There you are," he said, triumphantly. "All the powder you want--nuff to blow up the town."

"I don't suppose they'll let 'em stay here very long," said Hosmer.

"But they can't send them South on the road now," remarked Tevis. "The big bridge is down ten miles below--heard tell of it last night. They will have to go back the other way; not a train's been through for forty hours."

Tevis's grandfather was the station-agent at Middleton, and he spoke with an air of certain knowledge.

"Come, hand up your bottle and we will fill her up," said Skinner, extending his hand.

Will Tevis paused. "I say, fellows," he said, "I don't think it would be right. Do you, Hosmer?"

"A bottleful would never be missed," interposed Skinny. "There's more'n that spilled here on the floor. We _must_ celebrate the Fourth. Why not, boys? Eh!"

It was evident that Master Skinner's intentions were liable to change, however, and that some scruples were arising even in his mind, for he said, testily,

"You're a 'fraid-cat, Will Tevis."

The latter put down the rifle. "If you say that again, Ambrose Skinner, I'll fight you," he said.

"Oh, come, don't talk like that," said Hosmer, quietly. "Will is right, Skinny; we oughtn't to touch the powder. It belongs to Uncle Sam."

"He would not miss a handful," said Skinny, shame-facedly. Then he added, "I guess you _are_ right, though, come to think. Let's go back to the village; it's most four o'clock."

The boys walked down the grade. A mile away was a wooden box-bridge with a carriageway on one side and the single track on the other. It spanned a deep and swiftly running stream that opened into the Ohio River a few leagues below. It was here the accident had taken place.

As they came into the village street they saw that a crowd had collected around the post-office.

"News from the front!" shouted Tevis, in the familiar words they had so often heard; and the trio started forward on a run.

On the outside of the post-office shutters was a big placard drawn hastily up in red ink:

THE REBELS ARE IN OHIO!

GENERAL MORGAN CROSSES THE RIVER!

GREAT ALARM! TWO BATTLES FOUGHT!

These words stared them in the face. The news had come by telegram from Turkeyville; but soon after the line had ceased to work, and no particulars could be obtained. It was late that night when the boys went to bed. The morrow was to be an eventful one for Middleton, and there was a feeling of uneasiness in the air.

The next day was the 3d of July.

Will Tevis was awakened by a tremendous clangor of bells.

"Fire!" shouted Will, making one dive from the bed to the window.

He opened the shutters with a crash; but not a sign of smoke was there to be seen. What could it mean?

"Sounds like the Fourth," he said, leaning over the sill and craning his neck to right and left.

The Tevis house was far up the slope, on which the village stood, and Will could look down one of the long streets. He saw people running from the houses and heading for the Court-house square.

He hurried on his clothes, jumped down the back stairs, and rushed to the street, joining his grandfather on the way. At the gate as they turned into the dusty road they met Ambrose Skinner.

"Heard the news?" he yelled, as he approached.

"What is it? Has any one surrendered?" asked old Mr. Tevis, breathlessly.

"No!" shouted Skinny, at the top of his lungs, although he was quite near. "The Rebels are coming! I'm off to summon Judge Black. They're going to hold a meeting at the Court-house." On he ran.

Grandfather Tevis surprised himself, for in his excitement he had struck into a long swinging gait that compelled Will to his best efforts to keep up.

At the square all was confusion. The Middleton "Home Guards" were there, forty-eight in number, composed mostly of men who were too old for service. There was not a leader among them.

Mr. Tevis forced his way into a room on the ground-floor of the Court-house. Somebody held up his hand to enjoin silence.

"They are receiving a telegram from Dresden down the river," whispered a short, pale-faced man, in Mr. Tevis's ear.

There was a single wire connecting Middleton with Dresden, twenty-one miles to the westward. The nervous operator was translating the dots and dashes into words.

"The-rebels-are-in-full-sight-now-entering-the-town. The-home-guards-have-run-away." Then there was a pause. "The-rebels-are-breaking-into-the-stores. They-have-not-come-to-the-rail-way-station-yet."

"He is a brave man to stick to his post so," said Mr. Tevis, out loud.

"Hush," said the pale-faced man; "here he comes again."

"Tick-a-tick," began the instrument. "A-battery-of-artillery-is-with-them. They-are-here-at-the-station. I--" The instrument stopped suddenly.

"Something has happened," said the operator, breathlessly.

"Call him up," said some one.

"He does not answer," said the operator, after a few minutes. But as he spoke a slow ticking came from the receiver.

"Hello!" it spelled, laboriously.

"That isn't Jed Worth," said the operator. "Some one else has got hold of the wire."

"Hold on; ask who it is," said Mr. Tevis.

Then an idea came in Will Tevis' head, and he spoke up. "Ask if it is Frank," he said.

"What for?" inquired the operator, with his fingers on the key.

"Because if they answer yes, you will know they are trying to fool you," he said.

There was a murmur of approval.

"Is-that-you-Frank?" telegraphed the operator.

"Yes," came the unhesitating answer.

"Ask him if he has seen anything of the Rebs," suggested Mr. Tevis.

"No," was the response to this inquiry, "not one."

"He's a pretty good liar," said the pale-faced man, half to himself. The instrument began to work again.

"Are there any troops at Middleton," slowly asked the Reb operator down the line.

An answer was clicked back hastily.

"I told him that we had a regiment and two batteries of artillery," whispered the young man at the desk, smiling.

"Why under the sun didn't you make it an army corps," said Mr. Tevis.

The operator tried again, but no answer came. Dresden had switched off for good. A bustle and a cheer outside in the square showed that something was going forward. Judge Black had arrived. The Judge was a veteran of the Mexican war; his age alone had prevented him from accepting a commission in the army; but the village had a great respect for his military knowledge. He was offered the command of the forces by the Mayor; about four hundred had gathered; but there were no more than seventy muskets, with less than four rounds apiece. A search of the town shops disclosed the fact that there were but ten pounds of good powder to be had. Now "Skinny" came to the rescue with the same words he had used on the day before.

"I know where there's all the powder you want," he said, and he told of the freight-car on the siding. Despite the broken truck it was brought down the grade to the station, and two barrels were unloaded.

"Why not blow up the bridge?" suggested Will to his grandfather in a whisper, which the Judge overheard.

"We may have to come to that," said the Judge, turning.

"We'll leave that to the last, though. Now we must throw up intrenchments, and mount our two field-pieces. What's in those crates?"

"Uniforms, by jingo!" said a man inside the car.

"Get them out," said the Judge; "our forces must be uniformed. Have those mounted scouts been sent out?" he added.

"Yes, sir," said the Mayor; "an hour ago."

In a short time the slope below Middleton presented a curious sight; four hundred men and boys dressed in new uniforms with shining brass buttons were digging a long trench that stretched from the railway track to a steep bluff on the east. The old iron guns were in a position to command the bridge and the further bank. The freight-car with over two tons of gunpowder on board was anchored firmly in the centre of the bridge.

One man was left at the bridge to fire the train of powder if the enemy advanced. About four o'clock a very respectable fortification had been made at the bottom of the hill, and the few guns were distributed along it. The little army paused to rest. The women and children had long ago been sent north across the hills. At half past four a man on horseback thundered across the bridge; he was closely followed by two others.

"The Rebs are coming!" they shouted. "Thousands of them."

In fact, almost at their heels rose a cloud of dust, and two or three cavalrymen rode out on the bank of the river. They appeared surprised at the line of earthworks, and the blue coats that here and there showed plainly. In a few minutes more the bank was lined with rebel horsemen.

"Why doesn't he light the fuse?" said the Commander-in-chief, nervously looking toward the bridge.

As he spoke a man ran up the track from the bridge; he turned and looked back two or three times as if expecting something to happen. But nothing happened.

"It failed to go off," said the man, out of breath, as he jumped into the trench.

The Judge scowled at him. "Let go that battery," he said. "Commence firing."

At the first discharge one of the old cannons burst, luckily hurting no one, and the straggling volley that followed only showed to the enemy the weakness of their opponents. A rebel with a powerful field-glass had climbed a tree and taken in the situation. The enemy was preparing for an advance. That was evident.

"Hang that fool!" said the Judge; "if he'd kept his wits about him, we'd be safe. I don't believe he waited to strike a match. They could never ford the river."

But he or no one else had seen a figure in a uniform much too big for his small body steal across the track and crawl on all-fours down the embankment on the further side. All at once they saw him emerge into sight and dive into the shallow of the bridge. It was Will Tevis.

Just as the cavalry were preparing to charge, he came into sight again, running swiftly down the middle of the track. A faint smoke arose from the bridge entrance, several shots were fired at him; but on he came. The intrenchments now broke out into flame just as there came a terrific roar, a bursting rending sound, and the bridge disappeared. Will Tevis in the ill-fitting uniform was a hero. The rebels were forced to keep the other side of the swollen river, but exchanged shots for some time before they drew away.

Coming up the hill late in the evening Hosmer and Will met Skinny. "Where have you been?" they asked.

"Up in town looking for a drum," Skinny replied, flushing. "Will, I 'pologize for callin' you a 'fraid-cat."

The next day there was again no powder in the village; but Judge Black made a speech which began, "On this glorious occasion."

"I wish we had some fireworks for to-night," said Hosmer, after the old veteran had concluded.

"Never mind that, boys," said Grandfather Tevis, who had overheard. "You boys had your Fourth yesterday."

SNOW-SHOES AND SLEDGES.[1]

BY KIRK MUNROE.