In the Saddle

"What's the matter? What you runnin' off fur?" shouted the mechanic. "You needn't run; I won't hurt you."

Deck thought this was rather cool from a man apparently unarmed, to one with a carbine slung on his back, and a sabre at his side; but he judged that the fellow aspired to be a humorist, for he looked as good-natured as though he had just perpetrated a first-class witticism. But the cavalryman did not halt till he reached the end of the fence, where he made a careful survey on the field of the expected combat. He was too busy just then to notice the man.

"What is the matter, Mr.——? I reckon I don't know your name," said the man; and the sound indicated that he had followed the other nearly to the end of the fence.

"They call me Deck, those who know me best," replied the trooper, willing to humor the mechanic. "Now, who are you?"

"My name is Brown Kipps; but most folks don't take the trouble to call me anything but Kipps, Mr. Deck."

"My front name is Dexter; Deck for short," added the soldier.

"What is your back name?"

"Lyon."

"You look like a lion," added Kipps. "Won't you take a seat on this old bench, and let us talk it over?"

Deck declined the invitation.

CHAPTER XIX

"What things?"

"Why, that shooter on your back, and that broadsword a-danglin' agin your shins."

"They are not very heavy, and not so much of a load as your sledge-hammer and adze."

"I'm used to kerryin' them; but I'll bet a day's pay that gun on your back is heavier'n my hammer."

"I don't bet, but my carbine is lighter than your sledge," replied Deck; and it seemed to him as though the workman was trying to accomplish some object, though he could not make out what it was. "Besides, I don't have to lug my arms without any help, for I am generally on horse-back."

"Have you seen Tom Lobkill about here in your travels on this bridge?" asked Kipps, suddenly changing the subject of the conversation.

"I don't happen to know Tom Lobkill, and I don't know whether I have seen him or not."

"Don't you know Tom Lobkill? I thought every man in Tennessee knew Tom."

"That may be; but as I never put foot in Tennessee yet, I never happened to meet him," replied Deck.

"I reckon this is Kentucky," added Kipps, with a mild horse-laugh. "You see, we fellers that work on the railroad don't allers mind jest what State we're in, for we keep shiftin' from one to another all the time."

"But I think you don't have to do much shifting between Kentucky and Tennessee at the present time," suggested Deck.

"Not as much as we did a while ago. If you hain't seen Tom Lobkill, did you come across Lank Rablan in your travels on the road?" asked Kipps, as he rose from his seat, and walked to the end of the fence, though he still remained behind it.

"I don't know him any better than I do the other fellow, and I haven't seen him. You seem to have a good many friends about here, Brown Kipps."

"Not a great crowd; there ain't but four on us, and t'other is Sykes Wimble. I s'pose you hain't seen nothin' o' him, nuther?"

"I don't know him," replied Deck, more curious yet to know what the man was driving at. "What are you four doing about here?"

"We are on the railroad."

"So I supposed; and I suppose one of you is the president of the company, and perhaps the other three are the vice-presidents," said the cavalryman, quite as good-natured as his companion.

"Well, no, not exactly; I ought to be the president of the company, but I ain't," answered Mr. Kipps. "If I was, some of us bridgemen would get better pay, and a chance to sleep nights some o' the time."

"Then you are bridgemen; and I saw you knocking in the heads of the spikes over there. I suppose you were sent down here to rebuild this bridge if the enemy destroyed it."

"That's jest what we are here for; but I don't reckon the enemy'll destroy it this time."

"I should say not."

"But I was lookin' for my gang-mates, and I don't see what's become on 'em;" and Kipps looked about him as though he really wished to find them. "I had to go down below to git a hunk o' t'backer out'n the wagon, and the t'other three went down this way;" and the bridgeman produced a great twist of the native weed, and bit off enough to load two pipes. "I reckon you hain't seen nothin' on 'em, hev yon, Deck Lyons? I reckoned they went over the creek."

"I have not seen any of them, and no one has crossed the bridge since I came upon it," replied Deck.

"I rather think I can fetch 'em if they are anywhere round here," added Kipps, as he took a whistle from his pocket and applied it to his lips, producing three short blasts. "All on us carries one o' these, because we sometimes get scattered on the work."

The whistle seemed to be as potent as that of the boatswain on board of a man-of-war, for one after another three men mounted to the bridge just beyond the abutment on the farther side. Each of them had a pipe in his mouth, and they came upon the track as though they were in no hurry. They were dressed like Kipps, in workingmen's clothes, and one of them was about six feet and a half high. All of them had axes in their hands, but none of them seemed to be provided with firearms.

"They weren't fur off, and they kept awful still, or I should have hearn them," said Kipps, as they crossed the track and placed themselves behind the fence.

Deck wondered how they had secured a place down the embankment without being seen by him; but his attention had been directed the other way to the position of the squadron. But he realized that they could have crossed the track some distance farther up the road, and walked down from there under the shadow of the road-bed.

"Well, boys, I reckoned you'd got lost, for I couldn't find nothin' on you," said Kipps, as the men approached the end of the fence at which Deck stood. "What you been doin', Lank Rablan?"

"When you went down to the wagon, we uns dropped down the bank to have a smoke, and we got to talkin' about this business round here," replied the tallest of the three, who was about as lofty in his upper works as Life Knox, and about as spare in his filling up. "We consayted that this bridge was go'n' to get burnt up last night; but it's all here yet, and I reckon them so'diers down thar's done a big thing."

"We hain't got no job on our hands for to-day," said another of them.

"What was it that the nigger told you, Sykes Wimple?" asked Lank Rablan, who was the tall fellow.

"He told me the troopers had captured the whole company sent here to destroy the bridge; and there they be down there, guarded by the horse soldiers," replied Sykes, pointing in the direction of the camp. "I suppose this fellow is one of them," he added, pointing to Deck.

"I am one of them," replied the signalman.

"What company do you belong to?" asked Lank.

"To the Riverlawn Cavalry."

"You hain't had no fightin', I reckon."

"Yes, we have; the second company defeated the force that came here at daylight this morning, and captured the whole of them. The same company had a brush with the Texan Rangers, and they all took to the woods, except those that were killed or badly wounded. The hospital over there is full of them. If you stay on this bridge long enough, you will see more fighting over on the south road."

The bridgemen looked at each other, and said nothing for a few moments. Deck began to feel as though he was neglecting his duty; for he had been giving his whole attention to the talk of the men, with only an occasional glance at the troopers below. He looked again, and for the moment he did not see the plume of his father. He had changed his position, though it was not likely that he had gone far, and he began a search for him with his eyes. He did not discover the major at once; for he had moved a short distance up the south road, to give his orders to Captain Gordon.

While he was continuing his search, he was suddenly and violently drawn backwards behind the fence. If the bridgemen did not talk together in words they did by their looks. If any one had been regarding the scene described, it would have been sufficiently evident to him by this time that the bridgemen were engaged in a conspiracy, the first act of which was to secure the person of the Union soldier who had been posted at the flagstaff. But there was no one to observe what transpired on the bridge.

At a nod from Brown Kipps, Lank Rablan sprang lightly forward; and, seizing hold of the carbine which was slung on his back, he dragged him into the shadow of the fence in the twinkling of an eye. As soon as Lank had drawn him within reach of the others, they all laid hold of him. Deck struggled with all his might, and struck out right and left with his fists till his hands were secured, each by a man, while the other two held his body. The tussle was quickly finished, for the young soldier could do nothing against four full-grown mechanics.

Of course Deck realized that he was the victim of a plot prepared while none of the operators were in sight. His first feeling was one of humiliation that he had allowed himself to be captured at his post, or so near it. He blamed himself for leaving the flagstaff; but probably the result would have been the same if he had not left it, for a distance of fifty feet would not have prevented the conspirators from securing him where he was.

The four ruffians who had carried out their plan appeared to be what they claimed; bridgemen, for they were all provided with the tools that are used in such work. But it was evident to him when the question came to his mind, that they were not Union men, and could not be in the employ of the railroad company, which was now a loyal institution, after a violent discussion with its Tennessee stockholders.

"Don't kick, my little man," said Kipps, who appeared to be the foreman of the gang, whatever they were. "It won't do no good."

Deck was painfully conscious of what the leader said; for the others had taken his carbine and sabre away from him, and laid them on the bench. With the slings of his firearm they were securing his arms behind him, while Lank Rablan held him by the collar of his jacket. It occurred to him then that the ruffians had not taken his small revolver from him, and had not even discovered that he had one; but it might as well have been at the bottom of the creek so far as being of any service to him in that important moment, for his hands were both in possession of the enemy.

He had kicked with his long boots, and endeavored to bring his spurs to bear upon the shins of his antagonists; but Kipps had strapped his sabre belt around his ankles, thus depriving him of his only remaining natural means of defence. While they were securing his arms behind him, which their evidently intended to do with the greatest care, he was faced to the position of his company. Then it occurred to him that he had one resource left. His voice could not be tied up like his legs and arms, and he could use that if nothing else.

"Help! Help! Help!" he shouted at the top of his lungs three times. "Below, there! Sentinels! I am"—

This was as far as he was permitted to proceed; for Kipps caught his handkerchief from the opening of his jacket, and stuffed it into his mouth. If any of the sentinels around the prisoners' camp heard him, they could make nothing of the cries. If they looked about them, they could see nothing on the surface of the bridge, even if the shouts had not come from behind the fence.

"No use, my little beauty!" exclaimed Kipps, as the two men completed the operation of strapping his arms behind him. "They can't hear you down below, and you only worry yourself, without doin' a bit of good. Now be a Christian, and keep quiet like a little lamb, as you are. We are going to be busy now for a little spell, and we shall have to fasten you to the bench. Be easy, and amuse yourself the best way you can. You can whistle 'Yankee Doodle' if you like, and I reckon you can do it better than I did."

It was no use to say anything, or to attempt to do anything. He was tied to the bench, facing the track; and Kipps was considerate enough to take the handkerchief from his mouth, and return it to the inside of his jacket. The other three men had already hastened over to the place where they had come upon the bridge, and disappeared. The foreman took his carbine from the bench, and started to follow the others.

"It would break my heart, my pretty dove, to have to shoot you with your own piece; but if you make a row, I shall have to do it. If you keep quiet we won't hurt you."

Saying this, Kipps left him.

CHAPTER XX

All his pain was in the soul, which manacles are dramatically and metaphorically said to pierce when the victim is a high-spirited person. Deck had been captured at his post; and this fact humiliated him, though a court-martial would have acquitted him of all blame. No one below could possibly know that anything had happened to him, or a file of troopers would have been sent to release him before this time. He was almost in sight of his father and Artie; but they were busy watching and waiting for the fight which all believed would certainly take place.

But the prisoner was not left entirely without occupation other than his needless and undeserved self-reproaches; for if any one was to blame it was his father, who had placed him alone at such a distance from the rest of the force, though no one suspected the presence of an enemy in that direction. He had enough to do to observe the operations of the bridgemen. The moment they had secured the prisoner to the satisfaction of the foreman, the other three hastened to disappear over the embankment. They were out of sight but a few minutes, and then one of them returned, while the other two passed up to him several gallon cans. By this time Kipps joined them; and a lot of small bundles of light wood, such as is much used in the South in kindling fires, were tossed up, and caught by the foreman.

Deck understood that all these articles were combustibles, though he could not make out the nature of some of them. All of them were left where they had been received, on the platform of the bridge. It was evident enough to the manacled observer that the structure was doomed, and was to be burned in the very presence of the cavalry sent to protect it. Deck twisted, squirmed, and struggled when he realized the intentions of the bridgemen.

It galled him to the inmost depths of the soul to think that the bridge was to be destroyed before his eyes, and he had not the power to do anything to save it. He did not believe he would be left to perish in the flames, if they reached the place where he was secured, and he had not a selfish fear. He was tempted to repeat the cries he had made before; but the threat of Kipps to shoot him if he "made a row" restrained him. It was folly to throw away his life; for he was vain enough to believe it might be of some service to his country in its hour of peril.

When the men had finished passing up the material, which had plainly been collected in this place for the destruction of the bridge, each of them took a tin case under his arm, and they moved over to the shelter of the fence where they had left their tools. They stopped there long enough to obtain a couple of shovels and as many pickaxes, and then went to the end of the fence next to the bridge.

If the occasion had been less serious, Deck would have been amused at the bridgemen's attempts to conceal themselves from the force below. They worked like miners following a vein of ore deep down in the bowels of the earth, as the witness had seen them in pictures, lying on their backs, or curled up in a heap, using the pickaxe as they could. Between the wall and the embankment the earth had settled so that there was a considerable cavity. Two of the men worked in this hole for a while, the others lying prone upon the ground and watching them.

Then the four cans they had brought were deposited in the aperture, Kipps adjusting and preparing them with his own hands. Deck did not understand what they intended to accomplish by this operation, though he concluded that they meant to blow up the abutment, and that the cans contained powder or dynamite. Whatever the work was, it was soon completed; and then the movements of the men became more amusing than ever. They crawled about on their hands and knees, carrying the cans and bundles of light wood.

They unbound the packages of wood, arranged the little sticks in heaps, and poured what Deck supposed was spirits of turpentine or kerosene over them and on the planks of the structure. The work of preparation was soon completed; for the men seemed to be skilled in the operation, as though they had had experience in these details. They all crawled back to the shelter of the fence, and straightened their backs again.

"Now, my little lily of the valley, I shall have to put you under marching orders," Kipps said, as he stopped before the prisoner.

"What are you going to do with me?" asked Deck, though he hardly expected a definite answer to the question.

"I don't know, my butterfly; but I reckon you uns over there," he replied, pointing to the soldiers below, "would make mischief for we uns if we stay here a great while longer;" and he proceeded to release the victim from the bench.

"I judge that you intend to blow up and burn this bridge," added Deck.

"The whole Yankee army couldn't save it now!" exclaimed the chief bridgeman. "We uns, about two hundred so'diers along with us, was sent over here to make an opening between these two hills; and if you think we ain't go'n' to do it, why, you don't know Brown Kipps, that's all!"

"I think I have been pretty well introduced to him," replied Deck, who had become somewhat accustomed to the situation; and he thought he should fare better with such a person as the foreman by being good-natured than by growling and annoying him. "When you whistled 'Yankee Doodle,' I made up my mind that you were a true Union man, and my heart went out to you."

"I ain't much on 'Yankee Doodle,' and I could done better with 'Dixie;' and I ain't none o' them carrion as whistles 'Yankee Doodle' for the fun on't. It did well enough to still your nerves," said Kipps, as he finished releasing the legs of his prisoner. "Now I want you to march up to that place where you see the wagon standin' down by the side of the railroad. You needn't keep step, nor nothin' o' that sort. I reckon the cheese-knife and the shooter are too heavy for a young feller like you to kerry, and I'll tote 'em for you," continued the bridge foreman, as he began to examine the lock of the carbine.

"You are very kind, Mr. Kipps," replied Deck.

"That's me all over when you use me well; but, my little lion, if you should take into that small coon's head o' yourn to be ongrateful for my kindness to you, and make a row, or try to run away, I should have to shoot you jest the same as I should a 'possum if I wanted a Christmas dinner in the woods. Is this thing loaded with ball?"

"Of course it is; it wouldn't be any better than a broomstick if it were not," replied Deck.

"I don't know as I see through this thing edzactly," said Kipps, as he continued to study the mechanism of the lock. "I've got the cartridges, but I don't see any ramrod. Won't you just show me how to work it?"

"Teach you how to use a carbine to shoot me with!" exclaimed Deck, trying to laugh. "You must excuse me, for that would be giving information to the enemy in time of war, and I should be court-martialed for it."

"Jest as you like, Yank; but if there is one load in the pipestem, that will be enough to put you out of the way of any court-martial. I reckon I see into it now; you put the pill in here."

"I haven't anything to say on that subject, Mr. Kipps; but if you should happen to shoot yourself with it, that would save some Union soldier the trouble of doing the job," added Deck.

"But we uns hain't got no time to fool," said the foreman briskly. "You'll let the cat out jest as soon as you see us by the wagon. You can start things now, and open up the cat-bag as soon as you git 'em started."

"What's all that gwine on down below?" asked Lank Rablan, as he looked cautiously by the end of the fence.

"Well, what is it?" demanded Kipps impatiently.

"They are all lookin' up hyer; and that feller with a squawrel's tail in his hat is shaking a white rag over his head as though he'd lost his senses, if he ever had any," Lank explained.

"No matter what it is! Go to work, and hurry up, Sykes!" said Kipps in vigorous tones. "Now, my little Yankee angel, jest move over to the other side of the track, and march lively!"

Sykes was already crawling along the bridge, lighting the fires he had prepared. There were not more than half a dozen of them, and they were soon blazing up, though in the bright sunshine they did not make much show. Deck followed Lobkill and Rablan, as he was directed, while Kipps, with the carbine in his hand, brought up the rear. The foreman changed his plan when he found that the attention of the soldiers below was directed to the bridge; and, still sheltered by the fence, the two in advance left the level of the track, and made their way along the slope of the embankment.

Deck was ordered to follow them; but as his arms were still bound behind him, he found it was a rather difficult matter to preserve his balance. Kipps spoke to him quite savagely, perhaps believing he was making a movement to slide down the slope to the field below.

"If you think it is an easy matter to walk along this steep bank with your hands tied behind you, just let Mr. Lobkill put you in the same condition that I am, and see how you will get along," replied Deck, as good-naturedly as before.

"There may be sunthin' in that. Jest hold still a moment," said Kipps.

Deck was glad enough to stop; for he was hardly able to keep on his feet, as the earth slipped away under him. The foreman unstrapped the fastening, and put the sling in his pocket, perhaps for the same use in the future.

"Now, little lovely, trot again; but don't you forget that I have got the hang of this shooting-iron, and the ball can trot faster'n you can."

The prisoner obeyed the order, and he was beginning to think that the foreman was a tolerably good sort of a fellow, aside from his politics. He followed his leaders; and he had now no difficulty in keeping up with them, for he could retain his balance as well as any of them. In a short time they reached the vicinity of the wagon, which stood in the field, with the six mules that drew it there fastened to the pole. The mule-driver was a negro, who was asleep on the grass by the side of the vehicle.

"Now, my little Yankee saint, we are all right, and in about three minutes and three-quarters that bridge will go up the air; or some on't will, and the rest on't will go the same way in smoke," said Kipps, as he seated himself on a disused sleeper, and took a black pipe from his pocket. "Don't you think we uns are right smart down this way?"

"I suppose you are;

'For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.'"

"But Satan didn't find any for you uns in the ranks over yonder, fur they've been idle all day," retorted Kipps with an explosive horse-laugh.

"But we whipped out a force of Texan Rangers over yonder, and I don't believe they have done running yet," answered Deck.

"Them Texicans is gwine to wipe you uns out 'fore they git done with you," added Lank Rablan. "I consayt they see'd sunthin' on the bridge, fur they was all lookin' that way when we left."

"There comes Sykes, and I reckon he can tell us sunthin' about it," said Kipps. "If anything's the matter down below there, I reckon we four had better go down and lick the Yankees out of their boots."

"Don't you do it, Mr. Kipps," interposed Deck. "They might hang you for burning the bridge."

"Wait till we hear what Sykes has got to say, and then"—

But the remark, brilliant as it might have proved to be, was interrupted by the explosion which was heard on the south road, and which had been the signal for Captain Dingfield to make the attack.

"There goes your bridge!" exclaimed Kipps, looking at his prisoner with a glow of exultation on his brown face. "Now I reckon you can see that your Yankee cavalry couldn't save it."

"I cannot see the bridge from here, and I don't know whether or not they have been able to save it. Wait till we get further news, Mr. Kipps."

"I reckon we don't stop here no longer, for we've done our work, and that bridge is burning lively before this time," added the foreman, as he shouted to the negro driver to hitch on his mules.

In ten minutes more the bridgemen had loaded themselves in the covered wagon, with all their tools and material. Deck was given a place under the canvas, while the four men were seated at the forward end. The negro started his team, and the prisoner had no idea where he was going.

CHAPTER XXI

Life Knox had returned alone, leaving his men to guard the bridge; and if it had been in order for the sergeant to express an opinion on the subject, he would have said that sentinels should have been placed on it as soon as the company of Captain Titus had been captured. The major had tardily arrived at this conclusion. As soon as he came to the vicinity of the hospital, Knox discovered the plumed hat of the commander, which Deck had watched all the time he was on the bridge.

"I'm right sorry I don't bring you any good news of your son," said Life, riding up to the commander, and saluting him as soon as he turned away from the wounded prisoner. "The first thing we had to do was to put out the fires, and then I went about a mile up the track to look for Deck; but I could not find him."

"Did you see anybody over there?" asked the major.

"Not a solitary soul, Major Lyon."

"The prisoner in the hospital, with whom I have been talking, said that four bridge-builders, with a wagon and six mules, went over that way," suggested the major.

"I reckon they've been to the bridge, and set it afire; but none of them was there when I come to it. If they had a wagon and six mules, they left as soon as they'd done the job they come to do."

"What was the condition of the bridge when you reached it, Knox?" asked the major.

"It was all afire, but it hadn't burnt much. If we'd got there ten minutes later, nothin' could saved it; and we had to work lively as it was."

"But there was an explosion there."

"That didn't amount to shucks. I reckon they stuck the cans of powder in between the 'butment and the bankin', and it only blowed out a lot of dirt, and knocked off a couple of stones from the top of the wall. They brought half-a-dozen bundles of light wood with them, pulled them to pieces, and then poured sperits turpentine over and all around 'em; for we found the cans on the platform. The fires were blazin' lively when we got there; but we poked the wood all off the bridge. We found some barrels o' water they kept on the platform to put out fires, and it didn't take long to make an end on't. That's all I know about it, major."

"But what do you suppose has become of Dexter, Knox?" asked the father, concealing his feelings as much as he could.

"The bridge-burners had gone when we got there, and I reckon they took Deck with 'em," replied the sergeant.

"I suppose there is no other way to account for his absence. Lieutenant Belthorpe has been sent with half the first company to look out for the enemy in that direction," added the major. "Return to the bridge, Knox, and make sure that no further attempt is made to destroy it. The flag is still there, and I see that you have hoisted it again. If you need any assistance, haul down the flag as a signal to that effect."

The sergeant hastened back to his post; and the major rode up to the cross-roads, just in time to meet the scouts who had been sent up the east road, coming down the hill at full speed. There were only two of them; but they had left two others at the hill road.

The pair of riders who came in as the major reached the cross-roads were scouts; for they had been sent out with orders to go where they pleased in the hills to obtain all the information they could, especially in regard to the approach of any body of the enemy. They were not pickets nor skirmishers, who are sent out to act on fixed lines.

"We have just come from the hill road," said one of the scouts, as he saluted the major. "A detachment of the Texans has just come down from the hills, and all four of us retreated behind a knoll to see where they were going."

"And where were they going?" demanded the commander impatiently.

"They kept on the hill road, going north."

"How many of them were there?"

"Forty-two, besides the officer in command, who had one arm in a sling, and his head bound up so that he could not wear his cap."

"That must have been the troop that we engaged on the south road," said the major. "But how could they have got around to the point where you saw them?"

The scouts could not answer this question, and the commander sent them back to the point from which they had come. The last he had seen of Captain Dingfield's command was on the south road, retreating at the best speed of their small horses. He had sent Captain Gordon in pursuit as soon as his men were available. So far as he knew, there was no highway by which the hill road could be reached short of six miles south of the cross-roads, near the place where the Texans had camped the night before.

In order to have reached the position where they were reported to be by the scouts, they must have found a way across the country. He opened his map, and began to study it very diligently, to ascertain if there was a road which he had failed to notice before.

"More scouts coming in, father!" exclaimed Artie, who retained his position near the field-officer, the only one present with the squadron, for the regiment had not been fully organized.

Major Lyon turned his attention in the direction of the east road. He saw two riders galloping down the hill with all speed; and he folded up his map, restoring it to his pocket. The coming of these men meant something. The whole of the Texan company were accounted for, as half of them had been sent to the north by Captain Dingfield, and now the other half had been reported as having gone in hot haste in the same direction. Had any re-enforcement been sent to the Texan cavalry?

The major had no doubt the officer at the head of the troop reported was Captain Dingfield. He had expected to find his body in the road after the action, for he had been the most prominent person for the aim of the men. The same bullet could hardly have hit him in the head and in the arm, and it was plain that he had been wounded at least in two places.

"Where is Major Lyon?" shouted the foremost of the two scouts.

"Here!" shouted Artie, though it was a needless question, for the plume of the commander distinguished him from all others.

"Messenger from Captain Gordon," said the foremost scout, as he reined in his foaming steed, and saluted the major.

"Where did you see him?" demanded the commander.

"On the hill road, where I rode half a mile at his side; for he was chasing the enemy that went along just before, and Styles and Brehan came down here to report them to you."

"What is your message from Captain Gordon?" asked the major sharply.

"He told me to tell you he had pursued the enemy without getting near enough to fire at them."

"But how came he on the hill road?" demanded the commander impatiently.

"He told me to say to you that they had taken to the fields near the planter's house, and, after a good deal of winding about, had come to the hill road. When I told him we had seen the enemy, he wanted to know how far they were ahead of him; and I told him as near as I could guess they were about half a mile from him. That is all I know about it, Major Lyon."

"Where are Styles and Brehan now?"

"We passed them on our way down, and I suppose they will stay at the crossing till they get further orders."

"Very well; return to your places in the company," added the commander, as he proceeded to consider the information he had just received.

The situation was clearly defined in his mind. One-half of the first company, under Lieutenant Belthorpe, had been sent up the railroad; and the other half, under Captain Gordon, was pursuing the enemy. Captain Dingfield had sent half his force by the hill road to the north, and now he was retreating in the same direction with the other half. But the whole of the first company would come together somewhere in the vicinity of the railroad, and then there would be another fight.

The commander had with him at the cross-roads and at the camp the whole of the second company, where they were not likely to be needed; for it was evident that Captain Dingfield had left none of his force behind him, as by this time he had realized the pressing need of all his men farther north. It was plain enough to the commander that another action was to be fought very soon, if it was not already in progress, though no firing could be heard.

"Artie, tell Captain Truman I wish to speak with him," said he, as he took his map from his pocket again. It seemed to him that the seat of the fighting had been transferred to the north a few miles. But the bridge was still safe, and so far he had accomplished his mission. Captain Truman had proved to be an excellent officer, though all in the two companies had had no previous service in actual warfare; but they had shown that the only thing they lacked was military experience, and in that respect they were like a very large proportion of all the officers in the field.

"I was just coming to you, Major Lyon, when you sent for me," said the captain, as he reined up his horse in front of the commander. "One of my men has just informed me that there is a train coming down the railroad from the north."

"Artie," called the major, "hurry over to the bridge, and give Knox my order to detain the train that is approaching till he receives further orders from me."

Artie did not wait an instant, but ran his horse down the road, calling to the idlers and prisoners to get out of the way. He was fortunate enough to find the sergeant where he could hail him from his horse, and delivered the order.

By this time the train was moving very slowly towards the bridge, and Knox stopped it behind the fence which had done so much ill service in concealing the bridgemen. In front of the engine was a platform car, on which was a field-piece and half-a-dozen soldiers; but the messenger could not stay to examine the provisions for the protection of the train, which was doubtless a pioneer of another of more importance. He reported to his father what he had seen.

"The wounded and the prisoners have now become an incumbrance to me, and I have decided to send them all back to our camp at Riverlawn," the major began, as soon as Artie left him. "So far the enemy have failed to destroy this bridge; but I have no doubt they will continue to operate as they have begun, until they have disabled the railroad."

"The one over the Green River in Hart County is likely to be the next one threatened," added the captain.

"That or some other. I have stopped this train because it affords me the means of transportation for the wounded and prisoners. I shall place the removal of them in your charge. You will have the train stopped where it crosses the swamp road beyond Dripping Spring, and march those who are able to walk to Riverlawn. Take the wagons of Captain Titus's company with you, mules and all, and convey the wounded in them. How many men do you require for this service?"

"Twenty will be enough," replied Captain Truman, who appeared not to be pleased with the service upon which he was ordered.

The commander directed him to proceed with his arrangements at once, communicating first with the officer of the troops on the train. In a few minutes Lieutenant Blenks, in charge of the camp, who was to go with the captain, had mustered the prisoners, while his superior was engaged with the officer on the train. This gentleman was a quartermaster, with the rank of lieutenant, who had been sent on a duty he did not explain; but he put a veto on the plan of the major at once. He had to make some observations near Bowling Green, and the train would return before night. He suggested that Riverlawn was not a proper place to send the prisoners or the wounded, and he proposed to convey them to Louisville.

Captain Truman reported the result of his interview; and the major accepted the compromise, and was better pleased with it than with his own plan. The prisoners were marched to the railroad in charge of the guard selected, and at dark the train took them on board. It was not necessary for the captain to go with them, but the lieutenant was to return as soon as possible with the soldiers.

Not long after the train started, Major Lyon marched with all his remaining force to the hill road, to form a junction, if possible, with the two divisions of his first company.

CHAPTER XXII

The wagon would have been called a "prairie schooner" farther west; and was of the kind used in Tennessee and North Carolina, and perhaps elsewhere in the South. It had a high front and rear, with a sheer between them like an ancient galley. It was provided with a canvas cover; and the bows at either end carried it out about three feet beyond the body, like an awning in front of a window. The driver rode on the nigh wheel mule, with a long whip in his hand. He was a skilled teamster, and did not soar to the refinement of reins, but did his driving by word of mouth, and the application of the whip.

Deck had no idea where he was, or where he was going, for he had not studied the map of the present locality. He did not know where these men had come from. Captain Truman was evidently unaware of their existence in this section, or he would have set a guard over the bridge, after he had captured it in the early morning. If the son had listened to his father's conversation with the wounded prisoner, he would have learned that the bridge-burners had been sent over with the flanking detachment that had been defeated and driven off by the second company. They had made their way to the vicinity of the bridge with their wagon, and had watched for an opportunity to do their work.

They had found the signalman in their way; and, doubtless, it had required some time to arrange their plan for getting him out of the way. Deck was alone, and was not a very dangerous opponent in himself; but he could give an alarm by firing his carbine or otherwise, which would bring an armed force to his assistance. It was necessary to resort to strategy; and the proceedings of Brown Kipps to get the troublesome signalman out of the way have already been detailed. If the young man had had more experience of the ways of the world in general, and of the methods of bridge-burners in particular, they would not have succeeded so well.

The combustible goods and other articles in the wagon seemed to have been pitched into the vehicle at random; for they were not arranged in anything like order, and everything was in confusion. It seemed to the prisoner a piece of remarkably good fortune that he had not had his legs and arms bound, as when he was first taken. He was only a boy, though a stout one, and they did not seem to set a high estimate on his prowess as a fighting character; for they had not seen him in the skirmish on the east road, when he had given Lieutenant Makepeace the wounds which had disabled him.

The sabre and carbine which had been taken from him had been carelessly thrown into the wagon, though they were within reach of the men. Deck was a young man of too much enterprise to be mentally inactive in the midst of his present misfortune, and the wagon had hardly started before he began to consider his chances of escaping from the custody of the four men. At the first glance he could see that the chances were all against him. If it came to a fight, there was no chance at all for him; and his inborn prudence did not permit him to think of such a thing as a physical contest with a threefold odds against him.

But he was not discouraged at the mountain of difficulty in front of him, but proceeded to study the situation very carefully. It will be remembered that his captors had neglected to take from him the revolver he carried in one of his pockets; for, doubtless, it did not occur to Kipps that he was supplied with such a weapon. Deck set a very high value on the pistol in his present emergency. The trousers with which he had been supplied by the government were not made with hip pockets, a very serviceable improvement to the garment, not unknown even at the beginning of the war.

This kind of pocket was very useful to those who were in the habit of carrying revolvers; but Deck's ingenuity had enabled him to provide for the deficiency. He had arranged a sort of hook under one of the back suspender buttons, about where the pocket would have been if the garment had been supplied with one, so that he could readily produce the weapon on occasion. He had a box of cartridges in his pocket, and the revolver was fully loaded for instant service.

His carbine and sabre lay on the merchandise behind the men, all of whom were seated on a front seat under the projecting cover, and the wagon was wide enough to provide close quarters for all of them. The canvas could be drawn down so as to protect the contents of the body from the weather; but now it was fastened up, so that the vehicle was open in front.

Deck thought he might work his way forward far enough to enable him to reach his regular weapons; and at first he thought he would take this step. If he succeeded in obtaining them, all the advantage he expected to gain was in preventing his custodians from using them on an emergency; for the revolver in his pocket was a more effective weapon in the wagon. He looked over the miscellaneous loading of the vehicle, and tried to find a place for each of his feet in his advance to the forward part of the wagon.

His survey of the ground was not at all satisfactory; for there was no firm foundation for his feet. He must move noiselessly, or the attention of his captors would be called to him. He could not expect to go three feet without disturbing some of the articles; and his caution compelled him to abandon the attempt to recover his arms. They were not essential to his success in any plan he might adopt; and if Kipps discovered that he was trying to escape, he would certainly have his arms tied behind him again; and that might cut off all his chances. He was satisfied that it was not prudent for him to attempt to reach and obtain his carbine and sabre.

Then a more desperate scheme occurred to him, and it seemed to be more feasible than the other. He had his revolver; and, after a great deal of practice with it, he had become quite skilful in its use. He had seated himself on a box close to the rear curtains of the wagon when Kipps committed him to his canvas prison. Though it seemed to him like "fastening a door with a boiled carrot," he had seen the foreman adjust and fasten a padlock on the curtains after he had drawn one over the other.

Doubtless this was done to prevent thieves from stealing any of the stores in the vehicle in the night; but any enterprising robber, with a sharp knife in his hand, could speedily make an opening in the canvas. These men were not soldiers, so far as the prisoner knew; though perhaps they were more effectively opposing the plans of the government than if they had been, by destroying its facilities for the transportation of troops and supplies for the suppression of the rebellion. They were enemies as much as though they had worn the gray uniform.

Deck sat on the box with his hand on his revolver. He could sit there, and with the six bullets in his pistol he could shoot every one of his captors, unless some of them fled before his fire. One of them might seize and use his carbine; but he would have a barrel in his weapon ready for him. This seemed to him to be the most promising scheme that suggested itself, so far as mere success was concerned. It would rid this vicinity of the State of four men who might do as much mischief to the loyal cause as a whole company of soldiers, even if they were Texan cavalry.

Deck took the revolver from the hook inside his trousers, and assured himself that all the barrels were charged. Then he looked the wagon over again, and considered what he was about to do. Incidentally he asked himself what the mechanics intended to do with him. Doubtless they would hand him over to the military, and he would be sent to the South. It was not a pleasant prospect, and he prepared to use his weapon.

It was war in which his lot was cast; and the business of war was the killing of men, and the more the better. He raised the weapon; but, in spite of his reasoning, his soul revolted at the thought of the act he had been ready to commit a few moments before. Brown Kipps had used him as kindly as the circumstances would permit, and had not confined his arms behind him when in his judgment it did not appear to require it. It looked like a cold-blooded murder, and a cowardly deed besides, to shoot these men in the back of the head.

He believed that, if he committed the deed, the remembrance of it would haunt him as long as he lived; and the Confederate prison was better than such a black memory. He put the revolver in his pocket; and he felt more like a Christian when he had decided not to be guilty of the outrage to which he had been tempted. He wondered what his father, who was a true Christian, would say when he related this incident to him, if he ever saw him again.

"Mr. Kipps," said he on an impulse which suddenly seized him.

"Well, my little dandy, what now?" asked the foreman, as he turned his head as far as his crowded seat would permit.

"Don't you think you have carried me about far enough?" demanded Deck.

"I reckon not jest yet. You are a Yankee soldier, and you may be wuth sunthin' to us afore we get through with you," answered Kipps very good-naturedly. "I reckon you uns down below there got some prisoners out o' we uns."

"No doubt of that," added Deck.

"We know'd there had been a fight down there; but we don't know nothin' more about it."

Deck told him something more about it, including the fact that Lieutenant Makepeace was a prisoner in the hospital.

"You don't say so!" exclaimed Kipps, deeply interested in the statement. "Makepeace brought us over here part of the way; and he's a right down good feller, and I liked him better'n Dingfield. I'm sorry for him. Is he in a bad way?"

"I can't say how bad; but he has a bullet in his chest, and a sabre-cut on the head," replied Deck. "Our surgeon is taking good care of him."

"I'm glad you uns took care on him; and if you get hurt, we uns will do as much for you," said the foreman.

"But I have already done a great deal more than that for you; and you may thank me that you four are not dead at this particular moment," added the prisoner boldly, as he decided to adopt another method of proceeding.

"How's that, little sonny? I don't edzactly see it," answered Kipps, standing up on the platform in front of the wagon, so that the other three could turn round and see the prisoner.

"Not ten minutes ago I had made up my mind to shoot all four of you, and make my way back to my company," continued Deck, as he produced his revolver, and held it up so all four of them could see it.

At this moment the wagon went over some obstacle like a large log; and, as the hind wheels descended from it with a heavy "jounce," Deck was thrown forward, and only saved himself from a fall among the assorted loading by grasping one of the bows.

"We done com'd to de road, Mars'r Kipps!" shouted the driver, as he stopped his team after a succession of yells at the mules.

"Stay where you are, Jube!" called the foreman. "I want to know how my life was saved, for one, afore we go any farther. What's the reason we uns ain't not all dead, little 'possum?"

"Because I didn't shoot you all," replied Deck, as he stood holding to the bow with one hand, and the revolver with the other.

"Do you expect, little po'k-eater, we uns should 'a' let you do such a wicked deed as that?"

"But I could have done it without asking your permission," replied Deck. "I was sitting on that box, and I could have taken you first through the back of your head; and if one of you had moved to resist, I could have finished him in the twinkling of an eye. I don't like to boast, Mr. Brown Kipps, but I am a dead shot with this particular revolver; and it would have been ready for business again the instant I had disposed of the second man. It fires six shots, and I had a chance to complete the job, even if I missed my aim twice. Don't you see it?"

"Where did you get that little shooter, Lyons?"

"My name is Lyon; there is only one of us here. Of course I have had the revolver about me all the time, and you were so considerate as not to take it from me, simply because it did not come into your head to look for it."

"Why didn't you do the shootin' when you had the chance, little coon?"

"Because I concluded that it would be mean and cowardly to shoot four men in the back of the head, and that it would haunt me as long as I lived."

Kipps suddenly jumped over the seat, and began to make his way to the place where the prisoner stood; but Deck pointed the revolver at him, and commanded him to halt.

CHAPTER XXIII