General Nelson's Scout

Fred looked at the fence ahead of him. It was built of heavy rails, and full seven feet high. He rode straight for it. Bending over his horse's neck, Fred said: "Prince, it is a question of life or death. Do your best, old fellow; we can but fail."

The horse seemed to understand. He never faltered, never swerved. With distended nostrils, eyes flashing with excitement, and every muscle quivering, he gathered himself for the mighty spring. As lightly as a bird he cleared the fence, staggered as he struck the ground on the other side, then on again like the wind.

Fred turned in his saddle, and uttered a yell of defiance.

"Fire!" shrieked Conway. But the hands of his troopers were unsteady, and the shots went wild. Before his men could dismount and throw down the fence, Fred was beyond pursuit. Captain Conway fairly foamed at the mouth. He raved and swore like a madman.

"It's no use swearing, Captain," said a grizzled lieutenant. "I thought I knew something about horses, but that beat any leap I ever saw. Gad! I would rather have the horse than the boy."

"Howly Virgin! it's the divil's own lape," said an Irishman in the company, and he crossed himself.

The baffled troopers returned crestfallen and cross. Captain Conway was so out of temper that even when the ladies asked him if his fall hurt him, he answered angrily.

"Captain," said Alice, somewhat ruffled by his manner, "what is it between that boy and you? He said he knew you, was in fact a dear friend of yours, but you no sooner saw him than you shot at him; and Corporal Smith says you called him by name, so you did know him."

"Alice," replied the captain, "I do not intend to be rude, but I am all put out. That boy is a spy, a mean, sneaking spy. He should be hanged. It was he that discovered our plot at Lexington."

The girl held up her hands in dismay. "And I told him – " She stopped suddenly.

"Told him what?" demanded Conway.

"Oh! nothing, nothing; only what a good fellow you were."

The captain looked at her sharply, and said: "It is well you gave away no secrets."

Fred made his way back to camp with a thankful heart. He told Colonel Garrard of the intended attack, and then started back for the headquarters of General Thomas. It was a long and hard ride, and it was well in the small hours of the night when he arrived. The general was aroused and the news of the expected attack told. He quietly wrote a couple of orders, and went back to his bed. One order was to General Schoepf to at once march his brigade to the relief of Colonel Garrard at Rock Castle. The other was sent to Colonel Connell at Big Hill to move his regiment to Rock Castle, instead of advancing toward London as ordered.

Both orders were obeyed, and both commands were in position on the 20th. General Zollicoffer made his expected attack on the 21st, and was easily repulsed. The battle was a small one; nothing but a skirmish it would have been called afterwards; but to the soldiers engaged at that time, it looked like a big thing. It greatly encouraged the Federal soldiers, and correspondingly depressed the soldiers of Zollicoffer's army.

Fred got back to Rock Castle in time to see the battle. It was his first sight of dead and wounded soldiers. And as he looked on the faces of the dead, their sightless eyes upturned to heaven, and the groans of the wounded sounding in his ears, he turned sick at heart, and wondered why men created in the image of God would try to kill and maim each other. And yet, a few moments before, he himself was wild with the excitement of battle, and could scarcely be restrained from rushing into it.

The next day the army advanced, and passed the place where Fred met with his adventure, and he thought he would make another visit to Miss Alice Johnson. But that young lady gave him a cold reception. She called him a "miserable, sneaking Yankee," and turned her back on him in disgust. He didn't hear the last of his call on Miss Johnson.

Fred pointed out the place where his horse had leaped the fence, and officers and men were astonished, and Prince became as much a subject of praise as his rider. It was a common saying among the soldiers as he rode by, "There goes the smartest boy and best horse in Kentucky."

When Fred returned to Camp Dick Robinson, he found a letter awaiting him from General Nelson. The general was making a campaign against a portion of the command of General Humphrey Marshall in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, and wrote that if Fred could possibly come to him to do so.

"Of course; go at once," said General Thomas, when the letter was shown him. "I am sorry to lose you, but I think Zollicoffer will be rather quiet for a while, and General Nelson has the first claim on you. I shall always be grateful to you for the service you have rendered me. I trust that it is but the beginning of still closer relations in the future."

It was fated that General Thomas and Fred were to be much together before the war closed.

CHAPTER X.

IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY

To his dismay, Fred noticed that the letter of General Nelson was dated the 10th of October, and it was now the last of the month. For some reason the letter had been greatly delayed.

It was known that Nelson was already in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky; therefore no time was to be lost if Fred joined him. Much to his regret, Fred had to leave Prince behind. Afterwards he blessed his stars that he did, for if he had taken the horse he would have lost him forever.

Fred traveled to Cincinnati by rail, and then by boat up the Ohio to Maysville. He found that Nelson had not only been gone from Maysville for some days, but that there was no direct line of communication with his army. Nothing daunted, he determined to follow, and procuring a horse, he started on his journey alone and unattended, and against the advice of the officer in command at Maysville.

"Wait," said that officer, "until we send forward a train. It will be strongly guarded, and you will escape all danger of capture."

But Fred would not wait. He believed it to be his duty to join Nelson as soon as possible. By hard riding, he reached Hazel Green on the evening of the second day, and without adventure. Here he learned that Nelson's command had left the place only two days before, and was now supposed to be at or near Prestonburg, and there were rumors of fighting at that place.

The next morning Fred pressed forward in high spirits, thinking he would overtake at least the rear of Nelson's army by night. Along in the afternoon four cavalrymen suddenly confronted him, blocking the road.

As they all had on the blue Federal overcoat, Fred had not the remotest idea but that they belonged to Nelson's army, and riding boldly up to them asked how far the command was in advance.

"What command?" asked one of the party, who appeared to be the leader.

"Why, Nelson's command, of course," replied Fred, in surprise. But the words were hardly out of his mouth before four revolvers were leveled on him, and he was commanded to surrender. There was no alternative but to submit as gracefully as possible.

"Now, boys," said the leader, "we will see what we have captured. Examine him."

It must be borne in mind that Fred was dressed in civilian clothes, and therefore could not be taken prisoner as a soldier.

The soldiers, after going through his pockets, handed the contents to their leader.

"Ah," said that personage with a wicked grin, "young man, you may go along with us to Colonel Williams. For aught I know, these letters may hang you," and filing off from the Prestonburg road, they took a rough mountain road for Piketon.

Fred afterward found that the four soldiers were a scouting party that had got in the rear of Nelson's army in the hopes of picking up some stragglers, their only reward being himself. As was said, the party consisted of four. The leader, Captain Bascom, was a hooked-nosed, ferret-eyed man, who frequently took deep draughts from a canteen containing what was familiarly known as "mountain dew" – whisky distilled by the rough mountaineers. Being half-drunk all the time added intensity to a naturally cruel, tyrannical disposition.

One of the soldiers named Drake was a burly, red-faced fellow, who seemed to be a boon companion of the captain; at least one took a drink as often as the other. Another of the soldiers answered to the name of Lyle; he was a gloomy, taciturn man, and said little. The remaining one of Fred's captors was a mere boy, not older than himself. He was a bright-eyed, intelligent looking fellow, tough and muscular, and from his conversation vastly above the station in life of his comrades before he enlisted. It was not long before Fred discovered that Captain Bascom took delight in worrying the boy, whose name was Robert Ferror. In this he was followed to a greater or less extent by Drake. Not only this, but when they stopped for the night at the rude home of a mountaineer, Fred noticed that Bob, as all called him, was the drudge of the party. He not only had to care for the captain's horse, but to perform menial service, even to cleaning the mud from the captain's boots. As he was doing this, Bob caught Fred looking at him, and coloring to the roots of his hair, he trembled violently. It was evident that he felt himself degraded by his work, but seeing a look of pity in Fred's eyes, he fiercely whispered, "My mother's niggers used to do this for me," and then he cast such a look of hate on Captain Bascom that Fred shuddered. There was murder in that look.

It was not until the evening of the second day of his capture that Piketon was reached. Along in the afternoon, away to the left, firing was heard, and every now and then, the deep boom of cannon reverberated through the valleys and gorges. Nelson was advancing on Piketon. It made Fred sick at heart to think that his friends were so near, and yet so far.

The knowledge that the Confederates were being driven seemed to anger Bascom, and he drank oftener than usual. Noticing that Bob was talking to Fred as they were riding along, he turned back and struck the boy such a cruel blow in the face that he was knocked from his horse.

By order of Bascom, Drake and Lyle dismounted, picked Bob up, wiped the blood from his face, and after forcing some whisky down his throat, placed him on his horse. At first he seemed dazed and could not guide his horse. He gradually came to himself, and when he looked at Bascom Fred saw that same murderous look come over his face which he had noticed once before. "Bascom has cause to fear that boy," thought Fred.

When the party rode into Piketon they found everything in the utmost confusion. Preparations were being made to evacuate the place. The soldiers who had been in the fight came streaming back, bringing with them their wounded and a few prisoners. They reported thousands and thousands of Yankees coming. This added to the confusion and the demoralization of the troops.

The prisoners were thrown, for the night, in a building used as a jail. It was of hewn logs, without windows or doors, being entered through the roof, access being had to the roof by an outside stairway, then by a ladder down in the inside. When all were down, the ladder was drawn up, and the opening in the roof closed. The place was indescribably filthy, and Fred always wondered how he lived through the night. When morning came and the ladder was put down for them to ascend, each and every one thanked the Lord the rebels were to retreat, and that their stay in the noisome hole was thus ended. With gratitude they drank in mouthfuls of the fresh air.

The whole place was in a frenzy of excitement. Commissary stores they were not able to carry away were given to the flames. Every moment the advance of Nelson's army was expected. But as time passed, and no army appeared the panic somewhat subsided and something like order was restored.

That night, the retreating army camped in a pine forest at the base of a mountain. The night was cold and rainy. Black clouds swept across the sky, the wind howled mournfully through the forest, and the cold pitiless rain chilled to the bone. Huge fires were kindled, and around them the men gathered to dry their streaming clothes and to warm their benumbed limbs.

Just before the prisoners were made to lie down to sleep, the boy, Robert Ferror, passed by Fred, and said in a low whisper:

"I will be on guard to-night. Keep awake! Lie down near the guard."

Fred's heart beat high. Was Robert Ferror going to aid him to escape? He watched where the guard over the prisoners was stationed, and lay down as close to him as possible. Soon he was apparently fast asleep, but he was never wider awake. At eleven o'clock Robert Ferror came on guard. He looked eagerly around, and Fred, to show him where he was slightly raised his head. The boy smiled, and placed his finger on his lips. Slowly Ferror paced his beat, to and fro. The minutes dragged slowly by. Midnight came. The officer of the guard made his rounds. Ferror's answer was, "All is well." Another half-hour passed; still he paced to and fro. Fred's heart sank. After all, was Ferror to do nothing, or were his words a hoax to raise false hopes? The camp had sunk to rest; the fires were burning low. Then as Ferror passed Fred, he slightly touched him with his foot. Instantly Fred was all alert. The next time Ferror passed he stooped as if he had dropped something, and as he was fumbling on the ground, whispered:

"Crawl back like a snake. About fifty yards to the rear is a large pine tree. It is out of the range of the light of the fires. By it you will find arms. Stay there until I come."

Again the sentinel paced to and fro. It would have taken a lynx's eye to have noticed that one of the prisoners was missing, so silently had Fred made his way back.

One o'clock came, and Ferror was relieved. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and still Fred was waiting. Had anything happened to Ferror? there had been no alarm.

"I will wait a little longer," thought Fred, "and then if he does not come, I will go by myself."

Soon a light footstep was heard, and Fred whispered, "Here."

A hand was stretched out, and Fred took it. It was as cold as death, and shook like one with the palsy. "He is quaking with fear," thought Fred.

"Have you got the revolver and cartridge belt?" asked Ferror, in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes."

"Then come." He still seemed to be quaking as with ague.

Silently Ferror led the way, Fred following. Slowly feeling their way through the darkness, they had gone some distance when they were suddenly commanded to halt.

"Who comes there?" asked a stern voice. Ferror gave a start of surprise, and then answered:

"A friend with the countersign."

"Advance, friend, and give the countersign."

Ferror boldly advanced, leaned forward as if to whisper the word in the ear of the guard. Then there was a flash, a loud report, and with a moan the soldier sank to the ground.

"Come," shrieked Ferror, and Fred, horrified, sprang forward. Through the woods, falling over rocks, running against trees, they dashed, until at last they had to stop from sheer exhaustion.

The camp was in a wild commotion. Shouts and oaths filled the air. Men were heard crashing through the forest, escaping as they thought from an unseen foe. But when no attack came, and no other shot was heard, the confusion and excitement began to abate, and every one was asking, "What is it?" No one knew.

"The sound of the shot came from that direction," said the soldier who had taken the place of Ferror as guard.

"There is where I stationed Drake," said the officer of the guard. "I discovered a path leading up the mountain, and I concluded to post a sentinel on it. Sergeant, make a detail, and come with me."

The detail was made, and they filed out in the darkness in the direction that Drake was stationed.

"We must have gone far enough," said the officer. "It was about here I stationed him. Drake! Drake!" There was no response.

"Strange!" said the officer. "It is not possible he has deserted, is it?"

He was groping around when he stumbled over something on the ground. He reached out his hand, and touched the lifeless body of Drake. A cry of horror burst from him. The body was taken up and carried back to camp. The officer bent over and examined it by the firelight.

"Shot through the heart," he muttered; "and, by heavens! his clothes are powder burned. Drake was shot not by some prowler, but by some one inside the lines. Sergeant, count the prisoners."

The prisoners, who had all been aroused by the commotion, were huddled together, quaking with fear.

The sergeant soon reported: "Lieutenant, there is one missing; the boy in citizen's clothes."

Colonel Williams, who had been looking on with stern countenance, now asked:

"Who was guarding the prisoners?" The colonel's tones were low and ominous.

"Scott, sir," replied the sergeant of the guard.

"Scott, here!" Poor Scott came trembling in every limb.

"Colonel," said Scott, shaking so he could hardly talk, "before God, I know nothing about the escape of the prisoner. I had not been on guard more than ten or fifteen minutes before the shot was fired. Up to that time, not a prisoner had stirred."

"Did you notice the boy?"

"No, Colonel, I did not. I do not know whether he escaped before I came on guard or after the alarm. The sergeant will bear me witness that during the alarm I stayed at my post and kept the prisoners from escaping. The boy might have slipped away in the confusion, but I do not think he did."

"Whom did you relieve?" asked the colonel.

"Robert Ferror."

"Call Ferror."

The sergeant soon returned with the information that Ferror could not be found.

The colonel bit his lip. He cast his eye over the group of officers standing around him, and then suddenly asked: "Where is Captain Bascom?"

The officers looked blank, then inquiringly into each other's faces. No one had seen him during or since the alarm.

The sergeant of the guard hurriedly went to a rude tent where the captain slept. Pulling aside a blanket which served as a door he entered the tent. A moment, and he reappeared with face as white as a sheet.

"He is dead!" his ashen lips shaped the words, but they died away in a gurgle in his throat.

Captain Bascom had been stabbed through the heart.

The whole turmoil in camp was heard by Fred and Robert Ferror, as they stood panting for breath. Fred shuddered as the horrified cry of the officer of the day was borne to his ears when he stumbled on the dead body of the guard. The boys were bruised and bleeding, and their clothing was torn in shreds from their flight through the forest.

"It is all right now," said Ferror. "They can never find us in the darkness, but some of the frightened fools may come as far as this; so we had better be moving."

The boys slowly and painfully worked their way up the mountain, and at last the roar of the camp was no longer heard. They came to a place where the jutting rocks formed a sort of a cave, keeping out the rain, and the ground and leaves were comparatively dry. The place was also sheltered from the wind.

"Let us stay here," said Fred, "until it gets a little light. We can then more easily make our way. We are entirely out of danger for to-night."

To this Ferror assented, and the two boys crept as far back as they could and snuggled down close together. Fred noticed that Ferror still trembled, and that his hands were still as cold as ice.

The storm had ceased, but the wind sobbed and moaned through the trees like a thing of life, sighing one moment like a person in anguish, and then wailing like a lost soul. An owl near by added its solemn hootings to the already dismal night. Fred felt Ferror shudder and try to creep still closer to him. Both boys remained silent for a long time, but at length Fred said:

"Ferror, shooting that sentinel was awful. I had almost rather have remained a prisoner. It was too much like murder."

"I did not know the sentinel was there," answered Ferror, "or I could have avoided him. As it was, it had to be done. It was a case of life or death. Fred, do you know who the sentinel was?"

"No."

"It was Drake; I saw his face by the flash of my pistol, just for a second, but it was enough. God! I can see it now," and he shuddered.

"Fred, do you despise me? You know I helped you to escape."

"No, Ferror; if I had been in your place, I might have done the same, but that would have made it none the less horrible."

"Fred, you will despise me; but I must tell you."

"Tell what?"

"Drake is not the first man I have killed to-night."

Fred sprang up and involuntarily drew away from him. "Ferror! Ferror! What do you mean?"

"After I was relieved from guard, and before I joined you, I stabbed Captain Bascom through the heart."

A low cry of horror escaped Fred's lips.

"Listen to my story, Fred, and then despise me as a murderer if you will. You saw how Captain Bascom treated me. No slave was ever treated worse. My mother is a widow, residing in Tazewell county, Virginia. I am an only son, but I have two lovely sisters. I was always headstrong, liking my own way. Of course, I was humored and petted. When the war broke out I was determined to enlist. My mother and sisters wept and prayed, and at last I promised to wait. But about two months ago I was down at Abingdon, and was asked to take a glass of wine. I think it was drugged, for when I came to myself I found that I was an enlisted soldier. Worse than all, I found that this man Bascom was an officer in the company to which I belonged. Bascom is a low-lived, drunken brute. He used to live in our neighborhood. Mother had him arrested for theft and sent to jail. When he got out, he left the neighborhood, but swore he would have revenge on every one of the name. He surely has had it on me. I think he was in hopes that by brutal treatment he could make me desert, so he could have me shot if captured. When he struck me the other day, when I spoke to you, I resolved then and there to kill him."

"I know," replied Fred, in a low tone. "I saw it in your face."

"God only knows what I have suffered from the hands of that man during the last two months. I have had provocation enough to kill him a thousand times."

"I know, I know," replied Fred; "but to kill him in his sleep. I would not have blamed you if you had shot him down when he gave you that blow. I should have done so."

"It would have been best," sobbed Ferror, for the first time giving way to his feelings. "Oh, mother, what will you think of your boy!" Then he said, chokingly: "Fred, don't desert me, don't despise me; I can't bear it. I believe if you turn from me now, I shall become one of the most desperate of criminals."

"No, Ferror," said Fred; "I will neither desert nor judge you. You have done something I had rather lose my life than do. But for the present our fortunes are linked together. If we are captured, both will suffer an ignominious death. Therefore, much as I abhor your act, I cannot divorce myself from the consequences. Then let us resolve, come what may, we will never be taken alive."

Ferror grasped Fred's hand, and pressing it fervently, replied: "If we are captured, it will only be my dead body which will be taken, even if I have to send a bullet through my own heart."

After this the boys said little, and silently waited for the light. With the first gleam of the morning, they started on their way, thinking only of getting as far as possible from the scene of that night of horror.

As the sun arose, the mountains and then the valleys were flooded with its golden light. At any other time the glorious landscape spread out before them would have filled Fred's soul with delight; but as it was, he only eagerly scanned the road which ran through the valley, hoping to catch sight of Nelson's advancing columns. But no such sight greeted him.

"They will surely come before long," said Fred. "By ten o'clock we should be inside of the Federal lines and safe."

But if Fred had heard what was passing in the Rebel camp he would not have been so sanguine.

Lieutenant Davis, officer of the guard, and Colonel Williams were in close consultation.

"Colonel," said the lieutenant, "I do not believe the Yankees are pursuing us. Those boys will take it for granted that we will continue our retreat, and will soon come down off the mountains into the road. Let me take a couple of companies of cavalry, and I will station men in ambush along the road as far back as it is safe to go. In this way I believe we stand a chance to catch them."