CHAPTER XXXII. JACK'S DIPLOMACY—HIS RETURN TO CAMP—A NEW MOVE.
General Curtis remained a few days in the camp near where the battle was fought, and then, as the country around was exhausted of supplies, he drew back a few miles to Keitsville, Missouri; but not until he had positively ascertained that the rebel army had retired to Fort Smith and Van Buren, on the line of the Arkansas river.
A day or two after the battle negotiations were begun for an exchange of prisoners. Both the commanders were favorable to the exchange, as they were so hard pressed for supplies that the prisoners on their hands were burdensome in the way of devouring rations, and, besides, they required a strong guard to hold them securely. Each side wanted its men back under their own colors, and as the number of prisoners was about equal the exchange was speedily arranged.
Colonel Hebart, of the Third Louisiana, was a prisoner in General Curtis's hands, and was traded off for Colonel Herron, and each army thus secured the return of an honored officer. There was some delay in arranging the exchange of the men of the rank and file, and in consequence of this it looked as though Jack would have to remain behind when Colonel Herron started from Van Buren for the Union camp.
Jack was equal to the emergency, and when he learned that the colonel had been exchanged and was to start on the following morning, he devised a plan, which he unfolded as follows to his friend, the rebel captain, already-mentioned:
“It's clear the colonel can't walk or can't ride on horseback. He's got to be carried in an ambulance or a wagon.”
The captain admitted that this was the case.
“He's to go in an ambulance,” said the captain, “and I'm to accompany him on horseback. Dr. ——— will go along, too, to take care of the colonel's leg.”
“I'm glad of that,” said Jack; “but who'll drive the ambulance?”
“One of the drivers, I suppose,” replied the captain.
“Now, there's just where I can come in,” said the persistent youth.
“How so?”
“Why, don't you see, Captain? Let me drive the ambulance. I can do it just as well as anybody else.”
The officer shook his head with an emphasis that indicated the proposal to be something quite out of the ordinary run of things, and not to be entertained. But Jack was not to be put off thus.
“I ask it as a great favor, Captain,” said he, “and I 'll be sure to return it with interest one of these days. Let me drive the ambulance, and when it gets to our lines we 'll have one of your men drive it back, and it will bring some wounded officer along, if there's one to bring. It will be in your charge and protected by the flag of truce, and you 'll save having one of your drivers go up to our camp and back again.”
Viewed in this light, the proposal did not seem so very far out of the way, and as it met the wishes of Colonel Herron, who was highly popular among the rebel officers with whom he had been brought in contact by reason of his amiability and courtesy of manner, the matter was speedily arranged. The ambulance started at the time appointed, and Jack handled the reins as though he had been bred to the business and intended to be at the head of it before very long. The fact is, no great handling was necessary, as the horses were not at all fiery in their natures, and had been very much reduced in flesh by the experiences of the campaign.
There were no adventures of consequence on the journey, the presence of the captain and the white flag that fluttered in front of the vehicle being sufficient to protect it from any kind of molestation. The colonel suffered considerably with the jolting of the ambulance, and more than once he half wished he had remained in captivity long enough to allow the wound to heal. But, on the other hand, he was elated at the prospect of soon being among his own friends, and you can be sure he was received with open arms by his fellow-officers.
As for Jack, he was a person of great consequence when he returned to camp and told the story of his adventures among the rebels. His first thought was for Harry, whom he hunted up with the least possible delay. In fact, the two youths were hunting for each other, as Harry had heard of Jack's return with Colonel Herron from a soldier who had seen the flag of truce on its way to the headquarters of General Curtis and recognized Jack as the driver of the vehicle.
Leave of absence was granted to Colonel Herron, and he returned to St. Louis and thence to his home in Iowa, where he remained until he was restored to health. As soon as he could do so he went into active service again, and long before the end of the war his uniform was adorned with the double stars of a major-general. But he never forgot his experiences in captivity after Pea Ridge, nor the devotion of Jack through all those days of suffering.
Jack offered to go with him as far as Rolla, or even to Iowa, if he desired; but as the colonel had his own servant with him, and was to be accompanied by one of the newspaper correspondents, who was returning to St. Louis, he declined the offer, as he readily divined that the youth had no desire to go home just then. In spite of their numerous experiences, both Harry and Jack thirsted for more, their appetites having been sharpened rather than dulled by what they had gone through.
“Wonder what we 'll do now?” said Harry one morning as they were strolling about the camp.
“That's for the general to say,” replied Jack, “and the most we can do on the subject is to guess.”
“Well, here's for a guess,” said Harry, and the pair sat down for a council of war on their own account.
“From several things that were dropped in my hearing,” said Jack, “while I was at Van Buren, I should n't wonder if the most of Van Dorn's army was sent off to the east of the Mississippi to join the rebel forces in Tennessee. This will leave Arkansas with no army large enough to oppose us, and so we can go where we please.”
“That may be so,” said Harry, musingly; “but where's all our supplies to come from? We're a long way from Rolla now, and if we get down into the interior of Arkansas we 'll be farther still. We 'll have to live on the country, and must do as the rebels do. We 'll get along without tea and coffee and other luxuries, and settle down to corn-bread and bacon. But before we start we've got to replenish our stores of ammunition, and make up for what was consumed at Pea Ridge. In my opinion that's what the general is waiting for, and we sha'n't get orders to march until everything is ready. It won't do to go down into the middle of Arkansas without being 'well heeled,' as they say in this part of the country.”
“Yes, but where do you think we 'll go when we start?” queried Jack.
“We 'll go for the capital of the state, and I 'll bet on it,” said Harry. “When we have taken Little Rock we shall virtually have the State in our possession, and that will be a blow to the rebels. Of course, there 'll be parts of it still in their hands, but the possession of the capital is a strong point on our side.”
The youths mentioned their belief to some of their comrades, and the latter repeated it to others. The story grew with each repetition, and by the end of the day it was currently reported throughout the camp that the army was about to advance on Little Rock, and was only waiting for supplies and reinforcements. Inasmuch as that was the objective point that General Curtis then had in view, he was naturally puzzled to know how the story arose when it was reported to him. Careful and close inquiry traced it to Harry and Jack, who promptly acknowledged their authority to be nothing more nor less than guesswork.
There was a vast amount of this amateur generalship during the war, and it was by no means confined to the men in the field. Every cross-roads grocery, and every place, in fact, where men assembled to the number of half a dozen or more, was a center of strategy, in which campaigns innumerable were laid out and battles without number were fought, and always won by the side on which the sympathies of the strategists were enlisted. There was hardly an editor of a newspaper who did not feel himself fully competent to direct the generals in the field how to conduct their campaigns, and if all the editorial advice and criticism of the war could be gathered and printed in a book, it would form probably the largest, and undoubtedly the heaviest, volume ever known.
It was no more than natural that the soldiers in the field should put their brains at work to discover what moves were intended, and very often the generals were obliged to use a good deal of deception to prevent the premature working-out of their plans. Some of the generals lost their temper whenever they learned that any one besides themselves had been thus using his brains, but the majority of them took it good-naturedly, and regarded it as the evident outcome of an army drawn from the intelligent population of the North. General Curtis was one of those men of broad views, and he had a hearty laugh to himself when he found that the camp rumor was founded upon the amateur strategy of those enterprising youths, Jack and Harry.
“By the way,” said Jack to Harry, “do you know what the difference is between strategy and tactics?”
“I can't say exactly,” was the embarrassed reply; “only I think strategy is a good deal bigger than tactics, and means more.”
“There's one more syllable in it, anyhow,” said Jack; “but that doesn't tell the whole story. Here comes Mr. Fayel, the correspondent of the Missouri Democrat; lets ask him.”
Harry agreed to it, so the momentous question was propounded to the good-natured gentleman, who had been with the army since its departure from Springfield.
“Harry was right,” said Mr. Fayel, “when he thought strategy was larger, and included more than tactics. Strategy is the art of moving armies through a country and conducting a military campaign. It is the science of military command, or the science of directing great movements. On the other hand, tactics is the science of disposing military and naval forces in order of battle and performing military and naval evolutions. It was strategy to bring the army here from Rolla, and to fall back to the position on Sugar Creek and get everything in shape for fighting. The general showed his tactics in handling the troops on the battlefield, and by winning the fight he showed himself a successful tactician.”
“Ever so much obliged to you for the explanation,” said Harry, to which Jack added his vote of obligation.
Harry was about to ask another question, but was interrupted by the sudden arrival of an orderly, who said the youths were wanted immediately at General Vandever's tent.
Wondering what the sudden summons could mean, they started at once to obey it.
CHAPTER XXXIII. A NEW SCOUTING EXPEDITION—CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY.
General Curtis wants you to go on an expedition,” said General Vandever, when the youths reported to him. “Are you ready for it?”
“Certainly, General,” replied Harry; “anything that you order we 'll do if we can.”
“It is n't an order,” said the general, smiling, “as it is one of those things that come outside of orders.”
Then he paused, and the youths waited for him to continue, which he did in a moment.
“It's an expedition into the enemy's country, where you 'll run a good deal of risk; but, as you are not enlisted into the service, you can undertake it without compromising yourselves to the same extent that a soldier would. You 'll have to go in disguise, and conceal your real character. There's where the risk comes in.”
The general left them, while he strolled outside his tent, to give them an opportunity to consider the proposal.
“I'm ready to go, Jack,” said Harry, “provided you are.”
“Of course I'm ready enough,” was the reply, “and feel sure we shall get through all right. We can play our old game that we succeeded with last year, though we may have to vary it a good deal, according to circumstances.” When the general returned they announced their decision. He immediately accompanied them to General Curtis's tent, and they received their instructions.
“I want you to go to Fort Scott, in Kansas, about one hundred miles northwest from here; go as quickly as you can, but don't press your horses or appear to be in a great hurry. Take two days for the trip, or three, if necessary, and when you get there do as the commander of the post directs you. I will see that you are provided with 'butternut' clothes during the day; and if you are using military saddles on your horses, you had better change them for common ones of the country.
“I have heard of the cleverness you have shown on previous occasions,” the general continued, “and have no doubt you will get through all right and come back safely. But it will require courage and presence of mind, as you are likely to meet scouting parties of the enemy, and must be prepared to play your characters well.”
The boys promised they would do their best, and at a signal from General Vandever they saluted and retired.
From a quantity of clothing in the hands of the quartermaster they selected two well-worn suits of common material of the country. Though well worn, the suits were clean, having been recently washed, and by order of General Vandever the garments were sent to General Curtis for his chief of staff to inspect. The inspection showed that they needed mending in several places, to insure their holding out through the journey, and they were accordingly submitted to the care of the headquarters' tailor for a few hours. To make sure that the work was properly done, the chief of staff had it performed in his own tent, and directly under his eye, being unwilling to trust the tailor out of sight.
Toward evening the patched and mended garments were ready, and were brought by an orderly to General Vandever's tent. Their hats and boots were in keeping with the rest of their wardrobe, and when fully rigged the boys looked the very picture of natives of the soil of Missouri or Arkansas. By General Vandever's order they did not show themselves about the camp in their new outfit, but remained closely concealed in a tent in the rear of his. They ate a hearty supper and went early into their blankets, so as to be up and off before the break of day.
Nearly two hours before daylight their horses, which had been tied close to the general's tent and well fed, were saddled, and the boys, after swallowing a hasty and very early breakfast, announced themselves ready to start. The general bade them good-bye, and said his adjutant would escort them out of the lines.
“But we have n't any dispatches yet,” said Harry. “We supposed General Curtis had some dispatches for us to carry.”
“Don't you remember, he said, 'Go to Fort Scott and do as the post commander directs you'? That's all. You 'll get your orders when you arrive there.”
Satisfied with the explanation, Harry returned the general's good-bye, and so did Jack. The adjutant appeared at this moment, and under the convoy of a single cavalryman they moved in the direction of the northern boundary of the camp.
Under the orders of the adjutant the picket allowed the two youths to pass, and in a few moments they were lost in the darkness. They jogged slowly along the road until daylight came, and then, as the country became visible, quickened their pace.
After riding about three hours, and meeting no interruption, they halted at the crossing of a small creek to eat some of the corn-bread they carried in their pockets, and give their horses a chance to graze. It was Harry's suggestion that they should provide themselves with corn-bread instead of dry biscuit or hard-tack, such as formed the rations of the soldiers. “You see,” he explained, “the hard-tack might give us away in case we are stopped and searched; but if we carry nothing but corn-bread, which everybody eats in this country, it won't be at all suspicious.” Jack agreed to the soundness of this argument, and accordingly corn-bread formed their sole supply of provisions, with the addition of a few slices of bacon.
While they were lying on the ground, indulging in their very plain meal, a party of ten or twelve men appeared suddenly, from the direction they intended to go. Their leader brought them to a halt, and they quickly surrounded the two boys.
Harry and Jack were prepared for just such an emergency, and continued to munch their corn-bread with the greatest unconcern. The leader of the scouting party asked who they were and where they were going.
“We's from Forsyth way, and want to find some Home-Guard Yankees that stole two of our horses,” Harry explained.
“Forsyth way? Then you know Pony Matteson, down on Dobbin's Branch.”
“Don't know him,” answered Harry, “but I've heard tell of him. We ain't lived there long enough to know many folks; used to live up close to Rolla, till the Yanks drove us out six months ago.”
This suggestion appeared satisfactory to the questioner, as it implied the soundness of the youths on the war-question. But he was not altogether convinced, and asked if they'd been in the army.
Harry answered that they tried to get down to join Price's army before the battle of Pea Ridge, but were captured by the Yankee soldiers, and only got away by promising to go home and stay there. Since the battle the country had been in the hands of the Yankees and Home Guards, and they had to hide in the bushes most of the time to keep out of the way.
Then he went into a general denunciation of the Yankees, and gave details, somewhat garrulous, about their appearance and conduct. To this he added stories of what the people around the battlefield said about them, and altogether gave them anything but a good character.
The leader cut short the talk by ordering the boys to stand up. Needless to say they obeyed, but with a wondering expression on their faces.
“We'll go through you,” said he, with more emphasis than civility in his tone, “and if we find out you're lying it 'll be bad for you.”
At his orders four of the men searched the youths, turning their pockets inside out, and looking in the inside of their hats and shoes. If any dispatches had been concealed there they would surely have been discovered. By advice of General Vandever, rather than their own inclination, they had taken no weapons of any kind, and now they thanked their stars that they were unarmed. Had they carried their pistols they would have been of no use at this juncture, and would certainly have got them into trouble.
Harry had a pocket-knife, very old and worn, and this he was allowed to keep. Jack had a dozen fish-hooks in his pocket and three or four yards of line, in addition to eight or ten dollars in rebel shinplasters. The shin-plasters and fish-hooks were appropriated by the searchers, and also the line, the captain remarking that they could buy more line when they got home. The pieces of corn-bread which they had in their pockets were left to them, along with the pocket-knife, and then they were told they might go.
Jack protested against the loss of his fish-hooks, but he did not continue the protest very long. Then Harry assumed the role of questioner, and asked about the roads leading to the northwest, and was particularly anxious to ascertain if any Home Guards had been seen in that direction. He described the lost horses minutely, and asked the captain to send word to James Pratt at Forsyth in case he found out where the horses were.
With this parting request he mounted his steed, thankful that it was left to him, and Harry followed his example. It was fortunate for the youths that the scouting party were all well mounted and their horses were fresh, as they would have been quite likely to ask for an exchange, and make it, too, without waiting to ascertain if an exchange was desired by the parties of the second part.
“They're pretty searching in their investigations,” said Harry, as soon as they were out of sight and hearing. “It was lucky we had no dispatches about our hats or boots.”
“Yes, indeed,” responded Jack. “Wonder what the next party 'll do? Perhaps they 'll make us take off our clothes and see if we have n't something written on our skins.”
“That's a good idea,” said Harry. “I 'll suggest it to General Vandever the next time he wants to send a courier through the enemy's country.”
“I have it,” exclaimed Jack. “Why not put a dispatch under a porous or some other plaster between a fellow's shoulders? Nobody would think of disturbing it.”
“Don't be so sure of that,” was the reply. “The plaster is an old trick of diamond smugglers; it has been successfully used, and it has also been detected. It might work on these country jayhawkers, but anybody of experience is sure to have heard of it.”
Original Size
As they rode along they busied themselves with devising means of concealing dispatches and making ciphers which would be absolutely blind to the uninitiated and only read by those possessing the key. As fast as one of them designed a mode of concealment the other cited an instance of its previous use, and whenever one proposed a cipher the other managed in one way or another to show its defects.
They had about come to the conclusion that Solomon was right when he said there was nothing new under the sun, when suddenly a gruff voice from the bushes at the roadside called out:
“Halt, there!”
They looked in the direction whence the sound came, and saw the muzzles of four or five rifles pointing directly at them. It is needless to say they halted.
CHAPTER XXXIV. CAPTURED AGAIN—HOW JACK “PLAYED CRAZY.”
Their new captors proved to belong to the band through whose hands they had passed, as already described, and after another examination, in which their pockets were again turned inside out, they were allowed to proceed. As they rode on Jack suggested a new idea for their actions the next time they were stopped, as he was fearful they might encounter somebody from “Forsyth way,” and thus it would be discovered that they were not telling the truth.
“I tell you what,” said Jack, “the next time they stop us, if they don't come on us too suddenly, I 'll play crazy.”
“How 'll you do it?” Harry asked.
“Why, I 'll act crazy or idiotic enough, and you can say you're my brother taking me home. We live somewhere in the western part of Missouri, and have been away from home a long time; or perhaps you can locate us in Kansas, near Fort Scott.
“All right,” responded Harry, “we 'll try it on and see how it works.”
They did n't have any occasion for trying it that day, as they encountered no other roving bands. They stopped at two or three houses along the road, partly to ask the way and partly to keep up their assumed characters by asking if anything had been seen of some Home Guards with two horses, one a dark gray with a short tail and one ear notched, and the other a roan that carried his head very high and had a white patch on the side of his nose. The white horse was called Ironsides, Harry explained, and the roan one Tatters. The people were evidently suspicious of strangers, and did not welcome them with a show of delight, but they gave them the directions they wanted about the roads. They were careful not to ask for Fort Scott, or any other place in Kansas, but confined their inquiries within the boundaries of Missouri. Night overtook them at a deserted house, and they at first thought they would sleep there, but after some deliberation concluded it would not be altogether safe. By good luck they found concealed among the trees a small haystack, which not only gave them a sleeping-place, but all the feed they wanted for their horses. They made a supper from their bread and bacon, and then picketed their animals securely, and while one of them watched the other slept. They feared to be surprised during the night or early morning by the owner of the haystack, or some one who knew of its existence, and they naturally wished to have time to get away if possible, by discovering the approach of strangers.
They were not disturbed, and in good time in the morning they took to the road again in the direction of Fort Scott. The direct route would have carried them through Granby and Carthage, but they prudently avoided both these places by taking roads that led around them.
About ten in the forenoon they came to a house where there were signs of habitation, and Harry suggested that it would be a good place for Jack to experiment in “playing crazy.” So they rode up to the house and were met by an old man and two or three women, who came to the door as they were seen approaching.
Jack sprang from his horse and rushed at the man as though he were an old and intimate friend. The man drew back in alarm.
“Don't mind him,” said Harry. “He's crazy, and thinks every old man he sees is his father who died ten years ago.”
“How de do, father?” said Jack, taking the cue from Harry; “so glad to see you, father, after all this time. Where've you been so long?”
The man thought it best to humor the boy, and said he had n't been far away; only down to the next town.
“He's my brother,” said Harry, “and the doctors say the only thing to cure him is to take him home. We've been down South, in Arkansas, and we're going home to Bourbon county, Kansas, where mother lives.”
“Say, father, I'm real hungry, and thought you'd have breakfast ready,” said Jack. “You know, you've always had breakfast ready long before this time.”
There was method in Jack's madness that might have roused suspicion, but the very boldness of the suggestion was calculated to disarm it.
“That's the first sensible thing he's said to-day,” remarked Harry; “for I'm sure the poor boy must be hungry, as he has n't eaten anything since yesterday. The doctor told me he'd come to his senses some time when he wanted anything real bad.”
The women had crowded around the group and were joined by half-a-dozen tow-headed children, that one after another put in an appearance from inner rooms or the rear of the house. Great sympathy was shown for the poor crazy boy, and a breakfast of corn-bread and bacon, the best that could be offered, and very acceptable it was, was set before them.
Jack, while they were preparing breakfast, had gone about the house criticising everything and commenting freely on the appearance of its occupants. He was shrewd enough to make his comments of a flattering character; he praised the beauty of the unkempt children; thought one of the women looked like the governor's wife at Little Rock, and was sure she was his sister. When she denied the relationship Jack assumed anger, and Harry whispered to her that she had better humor him, as she certainly did resemble the governor's wife enough to put the idea in the boy's head.
Jack insisted that the governor's wife was the charmingest lady in Arkansas, and as Harry echoed the sentiment he found it was not received unkindly. Instead of eating their corn-bread dry they had molasses on it, a small jug of that precious article being brought out from some place of concealment by the woman who resembled the heroine of the gubernatorial mansion of the capital of Arkansas.
The boys could not pay for their breakfast, as they had nothing to pay with. At a signal from Harry, Jack assumed an air of somnolence, while the sane brother told the news from Arkansas and answered all questions about the Yankee soldiers down near the frontier. He explained that he had no difficulty in coming right through the Yankee lines, as they took pity on his poor crazy brother, but they would not let them stop anywhere in the camp nor look around to see what they had there.
Soon after they had finished breakfast they continued their journey, accepting with many thanks a goodly parcel of the bacon and bread which had been left over from the meal and would form an excellent supper. Until long after they were out of sight of the house Jack continued to wear the idiotic expression of countenance by which he had so successfully carried out his deception.
“I was half ashamed of myself, in fact a good deal more than half,” said he, “when I found how kindly they treated us. They took pity on me and gave us a good breakfast, which we sadly needed, and they could n't have been more sympathetic if we'd been of their own kith and kin.”
“And to think I flattered that woman into believing she looked like the wife of the governor of Arkansas, whom I've never seen, and don't know how she looks. Well, anyway, she had a good, pleasant face, and if the governor's wife has as kind a heart His Excellency may be proud of her.”
“We 'll get even with them and make a return for their kindness one of these days,” said Harry; “and perhaps we 'll do it very soon. But it will never do to let them know how they were imposed upon, as it would be a reflection on their discernment.”
Nothing of consequence happened to the youths until late in the afternoon, when they were suddenly confronted by ten or twelve rough-looking fellows, armed with shotguns and squirrel-rifles, after the usual style of the scouting parties they had already seen. But if there was any difference between this party and its predecessors, it was in favor of the earlier ones, as the crowd they were now facing seemed to be decidedly a worse lot. With their weapons aimed at the heads of the youths they ordered them down from their horses, threatening to shoot them if they did n't get down at once.
“Now I'll do the crazy, idiotic trick,” whispered Jack.
Harry got down from his horse, but Jack sat still and stared vacantly and with open mouth at the rangers.
“Get off that horse!” said one of the men, “and be quick about it.”
“Don't mind him!” exclaimed Harry; “he's my crazy brother, and I'm taking him home. He don't know what he's doing.”
This seemed to amuse the strangers, and they drew down their weapons and waited to see what the lunatic would do next.
Jack continued to hold his mouth open and look as foolish as possible. He stared at the strangers for two or three minutes, shifting his gaze from one to another. Finally, pointing to one of the men, he said:
“That's General Price; I know 'tis.”
The men laughed heartily at this suggestion, and not the mildest of the laughers was the individual who had been thus designated. It is not always that the victim of a joke can enjoy it as well as do those about him.
The newly-commissioned “general” was mounted on a fine horse (which was not branded with his initials), and suddenly Jack took a fancy to the animal and proposed a trade. The general declined, and Jack insisted. To prove his earnestness he descended from his own steed and tried to pull the general down from the horse that he coveted; but it is fair to presume that he did not pull very hard, as the general retained his place.
All this time the men laughed heartily at the antics of the supposed lunatic, and they continued to laugh when Jack asked one of them to shoot the general because he would n't swap horses. As the man would n't comply with his wish, Jack begged for a gun, that he might do the shooting himself, and when that was refused he threatened to find somebody who would lend him a cannon, or a whole dozen of them, and he would come around and shoot everybody that tried to stop him.
Harry begged the men not to oppose Jack, as it only made him worse. Then Jack proposed to go along with them, so that he could get the general's horse whenever he got off; a suggestion that did not meet with approval. But Jack insisted to such an extent that the general lost his temper, and began to swear roundly at both the youths, till he was stopped by the one who appeared to be the leader.
Jack's ruse worked to a charm, as the rangers were now quite as desirous of getting rid of the boys as they had previously been to make their acquaintance. They assisted Harry to get Jack on his horse again, and told him they would stay where they were till the youths were out of sight. Harry mounted once more, and with considerable apparent difficulty persuaded Jack to accompany him. He only succeeded in doing so by exacting a promise from “General Price” that he would follow them at once and trade horses when they went into camp that evening.
With this understanding they rode off, and as they went over the crest of the ridge Harry peered over his shoulder and had the satisfaction of seeing their late acquaintances riding the other way along the road at a smart pace. They were greatly relieved when they saw the last of the jayhawkers, and devoutly hoped they would not encounter them again.
To make sure of being out of their reach, they rode at a good speed for two hours and more. The sun was about setting when they came to a vacant house. While they were looking through it and its outbuildings, in search of feed for their steeds, and possibly for something they could put into their own mouths, a squad of horsemen dashed up to the door, and they found themselves prisoners once more.
Things were getting lively, but they felt easy this time, as they saw that the uniform of their captors was the union blue. The squad was quickly followed by another and then by another, until not less than fifty mounted men were assembled. They were under the command of a captain, who proceeded to interrogate the young prisoners.
Harry was inclined to be suspicious, as he had been told that a band of thieves wearing the federal uniform was scouring the country and committing atrocities such as the worst of the secession bands had rarely been accused of. So he answered by telling the old story of having come from the neighborhood of Forsyth, and being in pursuit of some horse-thieves. He again described the missing horses, and asked if the depredating Home Guards had been seen by the captain or his men.
His course was a prudent one, as we can easily see. In case his captors were really union cavalrymen he knew that no harm was likely to come to Jack or himself. He was ready to declare who and what they were as soon as he was satisfied of the genuineness of the apparent unionists; but, if on the other hand, they should prove to be the band of murderers of which he had heard, the fate of both the youths would have been sealed, and their lives forfeited if they had avowed their real characters.
Harry and Jack endured very well the searching investigation of the captain; stuck to the original story and did not reveal their true characters, and were finally turned over to the care of the guard, who treated them kindly, though without giving them the least chance for getting away. This was an indication in the right direction, and Harry proceeded to follow it up.
Finding that the sentinel who had them in charge was inclined to be talkative, he engaged him in conversation, and soon learned enough to convince him that he was among friends. Then he asked to be taken before the captain again, as he had something to say that he had hitherto concealed.
His request was conveyed to the captain, and he soon followed the request. When he came into the officer's presence, the latter impatiently said:
“Well, young fellow, what is it now?”
“I want to say,” responded Harry, “that we haven't told you the truth.”
“That's nothing surprising,” was the reply; “very few people tell it nowadays in this part of the country.”
“We've told you we were secesh,” explained Harry, “and we're nothing of the sort.”
“That's too thin,” exclaimed the captain; “if you think you're going to play union on me you're mistaken.”
He looked the youth straight in the eye as he said this. Harry met his glance firmly, and after a moment's pause answered:
“We don't propose to play anything on you now, since we're satisfied you're union soldiers. We were afraid you might be guerrillas in disguise, and so told the horse-stealing story that we'd made up for our protection.”
“Well, what are you, anyway, and where are you going?”
“We're from General Curtis's army, and are going to Fort Scott as soon as we can get there.”
Instantly the captain's manner changed. He arose from his seat and said he thought they were the very boys he wanted to find.
“Anyway,” he continued, “we 'll accommodate you by taking you to Fort Scott. If you've told the truth it will be all right, and if you've lied and are the secesh you first made yourselves out to be you 'll have a taste of the guard-house that 'll cure you of a habit of wandering from the truth.”
Then the captain gave orders that the youths should be carefully looked after and not have a chance of escaping, but at the same time they should be permitted to ride their own horses and have every privilege consistent with being carefully guarded. “They are probably all right, but they may be all wrong, and so we won't take any chances on them,” the captain remarked to his lieutenant, as the youths disappeared in charge of their guard.
Bright and early the next morning the whole party was on the road toward Fort Scott, where they arrived safely, but not without a slight brush with a small band of guerrillas whom they encountered about a mile from their camping place. A few shots were exchanged, but at such long range that it is doubtful if anybody was hurt. Certainly nobody was injured on the union side, though several bullets whistled very near.
The party which captured our young friends had been sent from Fort Scott for the double purpose of looking for messengers from General Curtis, and also to ascertain the whereabouts of any guerrilla bands that might be infesting the country. Having no proof of their character, the captain was naturally disinclined to believe their second story. He had supposed they were lying when they were first brought before him, and, therefore, was not inclined to accept without a great deal of reserve the subsequent explanation.
But all doubt was cleared up when the scouting party reached Fort Scott and handed its captives over to the commandant of the post. Colonel Hinton, the officer who then held that position, questioned the youths briefly and learned when and how they were sent away. When satisfied on this point he asked for their dispatches.
“We have n't any,” Harry answered. Then he told the circumstances attending their departure.
“But I'm sure you have brought them, as General Curtis was to send a messenger about this time, and that was one of the objects for which I sent out the scouting party.”
Harry repeated his assurance that they had brought no dispatches; then the colonel laughed and called his adjutant, and the latter, at the colonel's suggestion, proceeded to rip off some of the patches on the butternut garments of the boys. The first and second of the patches revealed nothing, but the third yielded a letter written on thin paper, and inclosed in oiled silk. Another patch brought forth another letter, and by the time the garments had been restored to their original unpatched condition, no less than three dispatches had been brought to light.