The Long Roll
much, but what I've got you're quite welcome to). You kin rest here till
evening. Maybe a wagon'll come along and give you a lift, so's you can
get there in time--"
"Get where, ma'am?"
"Why, wherever the battle's going to be!"
"Yaas, yaas," said Steve. "It's surely hard lines when those who kin
fight have to take a back seat 'cause of illness and watch the other
kind go front!" He groaned again and closed his eyes. "I don't suppose
you've got a drop of spirits handy?"
The woman--she was hardly more than a girl--hesitated. Because the most
were heroic, and for the sake of that most, all Confederate soldiers
wore the garland. It was not in this or any year of the war that
Confederate women lightly doubted the entire heroism of the least of
individuals, so that he wore the grey. It was to them, most nobly, most
pathetically, a sacred investiture. Priest without but brute within,
wolf in shepherd's clothing, were to them not more unlooked-for nor
abhorrent than were coward, traitor, or shirk enwrapped in the pall and
purple of the grey. Fine lines came into the forehead of the girl
standing between Steve and the hearth. She remembered suddenly that
James had said there were plenty of scamps in the army and that not
every straggler was lame or ill. Some were plain deserters.
"I haven't got any spirits," she answered. "I did have a little bottle
but I gave it to a sick neighbour. Anyhow, it isn't good for weak
lungs."
Steve looked at her with cunning eyes. "You didn't give it all away," he
thought. "You've got a little hid somewhere. O Gawd! I want a drink so
bad!"
"I was making potato soup for myself," said the girl, "and my father
sent me half a barrel of flour from Harrisonburg and I was baking a
small loaf of bread for to-morrow. It's Sunday. It's done now, and I'll
slice it for you and give you a plate of soup. That's better for you
than--. Where do you think we'll fight to-day?"
"Where?--Oh, anywhere the damned fools strike each other." He stumbled
to the table which she was spreading. She glanced at him. "There's a
basin and a roller towel on the back porch and the pump's handy.
Wouldn't you like to wash your face and hands?"
Steve shook his tousled head. "Naw, I'm so burned the skin would come
off. O Gawd! this soup is good."
"People getting over fevers and lung troubles don't usually burn. They
stay white and peaked even out of doors in July."
"I reckon I ain't that kind. I'll take another plateful. Gawd, what a
pretty arm you've got!"
The girl ladled out for him the last spoonful of soup, then went and
stood with her foot upon the cradle rocker. "I reckon you ain't that
kind," she said beneath her breath. "If you ever had pneumonia I bet it
was before the war!"
Steve finished his dinner, leaned back in his chair and stretched
himself. "Gawd! if I just had a nip. Look here, ma'am! I don't believe
you gave all that apple brandy away. S'pose you look and see if you
wasn't mistaken."
"There isn't any."
"You've got too pretty a mouth to be lying that-a-way! Look-a-here, the
doctor prescribed it."
"You've had dinner and you've rested. There's a wood road over there
that cuts off a deal of distance to Middletown. It's rough but it's
shady. I believe if you tried you could get to Middletown almost as soon
as the army."
"Didn't I tell you I had a furlough? Where'd you keep that peach brandy
when you had it?"
"I'm looking for James home any minute now. He's patrolling between here
and the pike."
"You're lying. You said he was with Ashby, and Ashby's away north to
Newtown--the damned West P'inter that marches at the head of the brigade
said so! You haven't got the truth in you, and that's a pity, for
otherwise I like your looks first-rate." He rose. "I'm going foraging
for that mountain dew--"
The girl moved toward the door, pushing the cradle in front of her.
Steve stepped between, slammed the door and locked it, putting the key
in his pocket. "Now you jest stay still where you are or it'll be the
worse for you and for the baby, too! Don't be figuring on the window or
the back door, 'cause I've got eyes in the side of my head and I'll
catch you before you get there! That thar cupboard looks promising."
The cupboard not only promised; it fulfilled. Steve's groping hand
closed upon and drew forth a small old Revolutionary brandy bottle quite
full. Over his shoulder he shot a final look at once precautionary and
triumphant. "You purty liar! jest you wait till I've had my dram!" An
old lustre mug stood upon the shelf. He filled this almost to the brim,
then lifted it from the board. There was a sound from by the door,
familiar enough to Steve--namely, the cocking of a trigger. "You put
that mug down," said the voice of his hostess, "or I'll put a bullet
through you! Shut that cupboard door. Go and sit down in that chair!"
"'Tain't loaded! I drew the cartridge."
"You don't remember whether you did or not! And you aren't willing for
me to try and find out! You set down there! That's it; right there where
I can see you! My grandmother's birthday mug! Yes, and she saw her
mother kill an Indian right here, right where the old log cabin used to
stand! Well, I reckon I can manage a dirty, sneaking hound like you.
Grandmother's cup indeed, that I don't even let James drink out of! I'll
have to scrub it with brick dust to get your finger marks off--"
"Won't you please put that gun down, ma'am, and listen to reason?"
"I'm listening to something else. There's three or four horses coming
down the road--"
"Please put that gun down, ma'am. I'll say good-bye and go just as
peaceable--"
"And whether they're blue or grey I hope to God they'll take you off my
hands! There! They've turned up the lane. They're coming by the house!"
She raised a strong young voice. "Help! Help! Stop, please! O soldiers!
Soldiers! Help! Soldiers! There! I've made them hear and waked the
baby!"
"Won't you let me go, ma'am? I didn't mean no harm."
"No more did the Indian great-grandmother killed when he broke in the
door! You're a coward and a deserter, and the South don't need you! Bye,
bye, baby--bye, bye!"
A hand tried the door. "What's the matter here? Open!"
"It's locked, sir. Come round to the window--Bye, baby, bye!"
The dismounted cavalryman--an officer--appeared outside the open
window. His eyes rested a moment upon the interior; then he put hands
upon the sill and swung himself up and into the room.
"What's all this? Has this soldier annoyed you, madam?"
The girl set down the musket and took up the baby. "I'm downright glad
somebody came, sir. He's a coward and a deserter and a drunkard and a
frightener of women! He says he's had pneumonia, and I don't believe
him. If I was the South I'd send every man like him right across Mason
and Dixon as fast as they'd take them!--I reckon he's my prisoner, sir,
and I give him up to you."
The officer smiled. "I'm not the provost, but I'll rid you of him
somehow." He wiped the dust from his face. "Have you anything at all
that we could eat? My men and I have had nothing since midnight."
"That coward's eaten all I had, sir. I'm sorry--If you could wait a
little, I've some flour and I'll make a pan of biscuits--"
"No. We cannot wait. We must be up with the army before it strikes the
Valley pike."
"I've got some cold potatoes, and some scraps of bread crust I was
saving for the chickens--"
"Then won't you take both to the four men out there? Hungry soldiers
_like_ cold potatoes and bread crusts. I'll see to this fellow.--Now,
sir, what have you got to say for yourself?"
"Major, my feet are so sore, and I was kind of light-headed! First thing
I knew, I just somehow got separated from the brigade--"
"We'll try to find it again for you. What were you doing here?"
"Major, I just asked her for a little licker. And, being light-headed,
maybe I happened to say something or other that she took up notions
about. The first thing I knew--and I just as innocent as her baby--she
up and turned my own musket against me--"
"Who locked the door?"
"Why--why--"
"Take the key out of your pocket and go open it. Faugh!--What's your
brigade?"
"The Stonewall, sir."
"Humph! They'd better stone you out of it. Regiment?"
"65th, sir. Company A.--If you'd be so good just to look at my foot,
sir, you'd see for yourself that I couldn't march--"
"We'll try it with the Rogue's March.--65th. Company A. Richard Cleave's
old company."
"He ain't my best witness, sir. He's got a grudge against me--"
Stafford looked at him. "Don't put yourself in a fury over it. Have you
one against him?"
"I have," said Steve, "and I don't care who knows it! If he was as
steady against you, sir, as he has proved himself against me--"
"I would do much, you mean. What is your name?"
"Steven Dagg."
The woman returned. "They've eaten it all, sir. I saved you a piece of
bread. I wish it was something better."
Stafford took it from her with thanks. "As for this man, my orderly
shall take him up behind, and when we reach Middletown I'll turn him
over with my report to his captain. If any more of his kind come around,
I would advise you just to shoot them at once.--Now you, sir! In front
of me.--March!"
The five horsemen, detail of Flournoy's, sent upon some service the
night before, mounted a hill from which was visible a great stretch of
country. From the east came the Front Royal road; north and south
stretched that great artery, the Valley turnpike. Dust lay over the
Front Royal road. Dust hung above the Valley pike--hung from Strasburg
to Middletown, and well beyond Middletown. Out of each extended cloud,
now at right angles, came rumblings as of thunder. The column beneath
the Front Royal cloud was moving rapidly, halts and delays apparently
over, lassitude gone, energy raised to a forward blowing flame. That on
the Valley pike, the six-mile-long retreat from Strasburg, was making,
too, a progress not unrapid, considering the immensity of its wagon
train and the uncertainty of the commanding general as to what, on the
whole, it might be best to do. The Confederate advance, it was evident,
would strike the pike at Middletown in less than fifteen minutes.
Stafford and his men left the hill, entered a body of woods running
toward the village, and three minutes later encountered a detachment of
blue horsemen, flankers of Hatch's large cavalry force convoying the
Federal wagon train. There was a shout, and an interchange of pistol
shots. The blue outnumbered the grey four to one. The latter wheeled
their horses, used spur and voice, outstripped a shower of bullets and
reached Middletown. When, breathless, they drew rein before a street
down which grey infantry poured to the onslaught, one of the men,
pressing up to Stafford, made his report. "That damned deserter,
sir!--in the scrimmage a moment ago he must have slipped off. I'm
sorry--but I don't reckon he's much loss."
Steve had taken refuge behind the lock of a rail fence draped with
creeper. On the whole, he meant to stay there until the two armies had
wended their ways. When it was all done and over, he would make a change
somehow and creep to the southward and get a doctor's certificate. All
this in the first gasp of relief, at the end of which moment it became
apparent that the blue cavalry had seen him run to cover. A couple of
troopers rode toward the rail fence. Steve stepped from behind the
creepers and surrendered. "Thar are Daggs up North anyway," he explained
to the man who took his musket. "I've a pack of third cousins in them
parts somewhere. I shouldn't wonder if they weren't fighting on your
side this dog-goned minute! I reckon I'd as lief fight there myself."
The soldier took him to his officer. "It's a damned deserter, sir. Says