Chapter IV. The Fight in the Pass

The Guns of Shiloh

by Joseph A. Altsheler

The three halted their horses and stood for a minute or two on
the very crest of the pass. The fierce wind out of the northwest
blew directly in their faces and both riders and horses alike were
covered with snow. But Dick felt a wonderful thrill as he gazed upon
the vast white wilderness. East and west, north and south he saw
the driving snow and the lofty peaks and ridges showing through it,
white themselves. The towns below and the cabins that snuggled in
the coves were completely hidden. They could see no sign of human
life on slope or in valley.

"Looks as wild as the Rockies," said the sergeant tersely.

"But you won't find any Injuns here to ambush you," said Red
Blaze, "though I don't make any guarantee against bushwhackers and
guerillas, who'll change sides as often as two or three times a day,
if it will suit their convenience. They could hide in the woods
along the road an' pick us off as easy as I'd shoot a squirrel out
of a tree. They'd like to have our arms an' our big coats. I tell
you what, friends, a mighty civil war like ours gives a tremenjeous
opportunity to bad men. They're all comin' to the top. Every
rascal in the mountains an' in the lowlands, too, I guess, is out
lookin' for plunder an' wuss."

"You're right, Red Blaze," said the sergeant with emphasis,
"an' it won't be stopped until the generals on both sides begin to
hang an' shoot the plunderers an' murderers."

"But they can't ketch 'em all," said Red Blaze. "A Yankee
general with a hundred thousand men will be out lookin' for what?
Not for a gang of robbers, not by a jugful. He'll be lookin' for a
rebel general with another hundred thousand men, an' the rebel
general with a hundred thousand men will be lookin' for that Yankee
general with his hundred thousand. So there you are, an' while
they're lookin' for each other an' then fightin' each other to a
standstill, the robbers will be plunderin' an' murderin'. But don't
you worry about bein' ambushed. I was jest tellin' you what might
happen, but wouldn't happen. We kin go down hill fast now, and
we'll soon be in Hubbard, which is the other side of all that
fallin' snow."

The road down the mountain was also better than the one by
which they had ascended, and as the horses with their calked shoes
were swift of foot they made rapid progress. As they descended, the
wind lowered fast and there was much less snow. Red Blaze said it
was probably not snowing in the valley at all.

"See that shinin' in the sun," he said. "That's the tin
coverin' on the steeple of the new church in Hubbard. The sun
strikes squar'ly on it, an' now I know I'm right 'bout it not
snowin' down thar. Wait 'til we turn 'roun' this big rock. Yes,
thar's Hubbard, layin' out in the valley without a drop of snow on
her. It looks good, don't it, friends, with the smoke comin' out of
the chimneys. That little red house over thar is the railroad an'
telegraph station, an' we'll go straight for it, 'cause we ain't got
no time to waste."

They emerged into the valley and rode rapidly for the station.
Farmers on the outskirts and villagers looked wonderingly at them,
but they did not pause to answer questions. They galloped their
tired mounts straight for the little red building, which was the
station. Dick sprang first from his horse, and leaving it to stand
at the door, ran inside. A telegraph instrument was clicking
mournfully in the corner. A hot stove was in another corner, and
sitting near it was a lad of about Dick's age, clad in mountain
jeans, and lounging in an old cane-bottomed chair. But Dick's quick
glance saw that the boy was bright of face and keen of eye. He
promptly drew out his papers and said:

"I'm an aide from the Northern regiment of Colonel Newcomb at
Townsville. Here are duplicate dispatches, one set for the President
of the United States and the other for the Secretary of War. They
tell of a successful fight that we had last night with Southern
troops, presumably the cavalrymen of Turner Ashby. I wish you to
send them at once."

"He's speakin' the exact truth, Jim," said Red Blaze, who had
come in behind Dick, "an' I've brought him an' the sergeant here
over the mountains to tell about it."

The boy sprang to his instrument. But he stopped a moment to
ask one question.

"Did you really beat 'em off?" he asked as he looked up with
shining eye.

"We certainly did," replied Dick.

"I'll send it faster than I ever sent anything before," said
the boy. "To think of me, Jim Johnson, sending a dispatch to Abraham
Lincoln, telling of a victory!"

"I reckon you're right, Jim, it's your chance," said Red
Blaze.

Jim bent over the instrument which now began to click steadily
and fast.

"You're to wait for answers," said Dick.

The boy nodded, but his shining eyes remained bent over the
instrument. Dick went to the door, brushed off the snow, came back
and sat down by the stove. Sergeant Whitley, who had tied the
horses to hitching posts, came in, pulled up an empty box and sat
down by him. Red Blaze slipped away unnoticed. But he came back
very soon, and men and women came with him, bringing food and
smoking coffee. There was enough for twenty.

Red Blaze had spread among the villagers, every one of whom he
knew, the news that the Union arms had won a victory. Nor had it
suffered anything in the telling. Colonel Newcomb's regiment, by
the most desperate feats of gallantry, had beaten off at least ten
thousand Southerners, and the boy and the man in uniform, who were
resting by the fire in the station, had been the greatest two heroes
of a battle waged for a whole night.

Curious eyes gazed at Dick and the sergeant as they sat there
by the stove. Dick himself, warm, relaxed, and the needs of his
body satisfied, felt like going to sleep. But he watched the boy
operator, who presently finished his two dispatches and then lifted
his head for the first time.

"They've gone straight into Washington," he said. "We ought
to get an answer soon."

"We'll wait here for it," said Dick.

The three messengers were now thoroughly warmed at the stove,
they had eaten heartily of the best the village could furnish, and a
great feeling of comfort pervaded them. While they were waiting for
the reply that they hoped would come from Washington, Dick Mason and
Sergeant Whitley went outside. No snow was falling in the valley,
but off on the mountain crest they still saw the white veil, blown
by the wind.

Red Blaze joined them and was everywhere their guide and
herald. He ascribed to them such deeds of skill and valor that they
were compelled to call him the best romancer they had met in a long
time.

"I suppose that if Mr. Warner were here," said the sergeant,
"he would reduce these statements to mathematics, ten per cent fact
an' ninety per cent fancy."

"Just about that," said Dick.

Red Blaze came to them presently, bristling with news.

"A farmer from a hollow further to the west," he said, "has
just come in, an' he says that a band of guerillas is ridin' through
the hills. 'Bout twenty of them, he said, led by a big dark fellow,
his face covered with black beard. They've been liftin' hosses an'
takin' other things, but they're strangers in these parts. Tom
Sykes, who was held up by them an' robbed of his hoss, says that the
rest of 'em called their leader Skelly. Tom seemed to think that
mebbe they came from somewhere in the Kentucky mountains. They
called themselves a scoutin' party of the Southern army."

Dick started violently.

"Why, I know this man Skelly," he said. "He lives in the
mountains to the eastward of my home in Kentucky. He organized a
band at the beginning of the war, but over there he said he was
fightin' for the North."

"He'll be fightin' for his own hand," said the sergeant
sternly. "But he can't play double all the time. That sort of thing
will bring a man to the end of a rope, with clear air under his
feet."

"I'm glad you've told me this," said Red Blaze. "Skelly might
have come ridin' in here, claimin' that he an' his men was Northern
troops, an' then when we wasn't suspectin' might have held up the
whole town. I'll warn 'em. Thar ain't a house here that hasn't got
two or three rifles an' shotguns in it, an' with the farmers from
the valley joinin' in Hubbard could wipe out the whole gang."

"Tell them to be on guard all the time, Red Blaze," said
Whitley with strong emphasis. "In war you've got to watch, watch,
watch. Always know what the other fellow is doin', if you can."

"Let's go back to the station," said Dick. "Maybe we'll have
an answer soon."

They found the young operator hanging over his instrument, his
eyes still shining. He had been in that position ever since they
left him, and Dick knew that his eagerness to get an answer from
Washington kept him there, mind and body waiting for the tick of the
key.

Dick, the sergeant, and Red Blaze sat down by the stove again,
and rested there quietly for a quarter of an hour. Red Blaze was
thinking that it would be another cold ride back over the pass. The
sergeant, although he was not sleepy, closed his eyes and saw again
the vast rolling plains, the herds of buffalo spreading to the
horizon, and the bands of Sioux and Cheyennes galloping down, their
great war bonnets making splashes of color against the thin blue
sky. Dick was thinking of Pendleton, the peaceful little town in
Kentucky that was his home, and of his cousin, Harry Kenton. He did
not know now where Harry was, and he did not even know whether he
was dead or alive.

Dick sighed a little, and just at that moment the telegraph
key began to click.

"The answer is coming!" exclaimed the young operator excitedly
and then he bent closer over the key to take it. The three chairs
straightened up, and they, too, bent toward the key. The boy wrote
rapidly, but the clicking did not go on long. When it ceased he
straightened up with his finished message in his hand. His face was
flushed and his eyes still shining. He folded the paper and handed
it to Dick.

"It's for you, Mr. Mason," he said.

Dick unfolded it and read aloud:

"Colonel John D. Newcomb:

"Congratulations on your success and fine management of your
troops. Victory worth much to us. Read dispatch to regiment and
continue westward to original destination.

A.
LINCOLN."

Dick's face glowed, and the sergeant's teeth came together
with a little click of satisfaction.

"When I saw that it was to be read to the regiment I thought
it no harm to read it to the rest of you," said Dick, as he refolded
the precious dispatch and put it in his safest pocket. "Now,
sergeant, I think we ought to be off at full speed."

"Not a minute to waste," said Sergeant Whitley.

Their horses had been fed and were rested well. The three
bade farewell to the young operator, then to almost all of Hubbard
and proceeded in a trot for the pass. They did not speak until they
were on the first slope, and then the sergeant, looking up at the
heights, asked:

"Shall we have snow again on our return, Red Blaze? I hope
not. It's important for us to get back to Townsville without any
waste of time."

"I hate to bring bad news," replied Red Blaze, "but we'll
shore have more snow. See them clouds, sailin' up an' always
sailin' up from the southwest, an' see that white mist 'roun' the
highest peaks. That's snow, an' it'll hit the pass just as it did
when we was comin' over. But we've got this in favor of ourselves
an' our hosses now: The wind is on our backs."

They rode hard now. Dick had received the precious message
from the President, and it would be a proud moment for him when he
put it in the hands of the colonel. He did not wish that moment to
be delayed. Several times he patted the pocket in which the paper
lay.

As they ascended, the wind increased in strength, but being on
their backs now it seemed to help them along. They were soon high
up on the slopes and then they naturally turned for a parting look
at Hubbard in its valley, a twin to that of Townsville. It looked
from afar neat and given up to peace, but Dick knew that it had been
stirred deeply by the visit of his comrades and himself.

"It seems," he said, "that the war would pass by these little
mountain nests."

"But it don't," said Red Blaze. "War, I guess, is like a mad
an' kickin' mule, hoofs lashin' out everywhar, an' you can't tell
what they're goin' to hit. Boys, we're makin' good time. That wind
on our backs fairly lifts us up the mountain side."

Petty had all the easy familiarity of the backwoods. He
treated the boy and man who rode with him as comrades of at least a
year's standing, and they felt in return that he was one of them, a
man to be trusted. They retained all the buoyancy which the receipt
of the dispatch had given them, and Dick, his heart beating high,
scarcely felt the wind and cold.

"In another quarter of an hour we'll be at the top," said
Petty. Then he added after a moment's pause: "If I'm not mistook,
we'll have company. See that path, leadin' out of the west, an'
runnin' along the slope. It comes into the main road, two or three
hundred yards further on, an' I think I can see the top of a
horseman's head ridin' in it. What do you say, sergeant?"

"I say that you are right, Red Blaze. I plainly see the head
of a big man, wearing a fur cap, an' there are others behind him,
ridin' in single file. What's your opinion, Mr. Mason?"

"The same as yours and Red Blaze's. I, too, can see the big
man with the fur cap on his head and at least a dozen following
behind. Do you think it likely, Red Blaze, that they'll reach the
main road before we pass the mouth of the path?"

A sudden thought had leaped up in Dick's mind and it set his
pulses to beating hard. He remembered some earlier words of Red
Blaze's.

"We'll go by before they reach the main road," replied Red
Blaze, "unless they make their hosses travel a lot faster than
they're travelin' now."

"Then suppose we whip up a little," said Dick.

Both Red Blaze and the sergeant gave him searching glances.

"Do you mean--" began Whitley.

"Yes, I mean it. I know it. The man in front wearing the fur
cap is Bill Skelly. He and his men made an attack upon the home of
my uncle, Colonel Kenton, who is a Southern leader in Kentucky. He
and his band were Northerners there, but they will be Southerners
here, if it suits their purpose."

"An' it will shorely suit their purpose to be Southerners
now," said Red Blaze. "We three are ridin' mighty good hoss flesh.
Me an' the sergeant have good rifles an' pistols, you have good
pistols, an' we all have good, big overcoats. This is a lonely
mountain side with war flyin' all about us. Easy's the place an'
easy's the deed. That is if we'd let 'em, which we ain't goin' to
do."

"Not by a long shot," said Sergeant Whitley, resting his rifle
across the pommel of his saddle. "They've got to follow straight
behind. The ground is too rough for them to ride around an' flank
us."

Dick said nothing, but his gauntleted hand moved down to the
butt of one of his pistols. His heart throbbed, but he preserved
the appearance of coolness. He was fast becoming inured to danger.
Owing to the slope they could not increase the speed of their horses
greatly, but they were beyond the mouth of the path before they were
seen by Skelly and his band. Then the big mountaineer uttered a
great shout and began to wave his hand at them.

"The road curves here a little among the rocks," said the
sergeant, who unconsciously took command. "Suppose we stop,
sheltered by the curve, and ask them what they want."

"The very thing to do," said Dick.

"Sass 'em, sergeant! Sass 'em!" said Red Blaze.

They drew their horses back partially in the shadow of the
rocky curve, but the sergeant was a little further forward than the
others. Dick saw Skelly and a score of men emerge into the road and
come rapidly toward them. They were a wild-looking crew, mounted on
tough mountain ponies, all of them carrying loot, and all armed
heavily.

The sergeant threw up his rifle, and with a steady hand aimed
straight at Skelly's heart.

"Halt!" he cried sharply, "and tell me who you are!"

The whole crew seemed to reel back except Skelly, who, though
stopping his horse, remained in the center of the road.

"What do you mean?" he cried. "We're peaceful travelers.
What business is it of yours who we are?"

"Judgin' by your looks you're not peaceful travelers at all.
Besides these ain't peaceful times an' we take the right to demand
who you are. If you come on another foot, I shoot."

The sergeant's tones were sharp with resolve.

"Your name!" he continued.

"Ramsdell, David Ramsdell," replied the leader of the band.

"That's a lie," said Sergeant Whitley. "Your name is Bill
Skelly, an' you're a mountaineer from Eastern Kentucky, claimin' to
belong first to one side and then to the other as suits you."

"Who says so?" exclaimed Skelly defiantly.

The sergeant beckoned Dick, who rode forward a little.

"I do," said the boy in a loud, clear voice. "My name is Dick
Mason, and I live at Pendleton in Kentucky. I saw you more than
once before the war, and I know that you tried to burn down the
house of Colonel Kenton there, and kill him and his friends. I'm on
the other side, but I'm not for such things as that."

Skelly distinctly saw Dick sitting on his horse in the pass,
and he knew him well. Rage tore at his heart. Although on "the
other side" this boy, too, was a lowlander and in a way a member of
that vile Kenton brood. He hated him, too, because he belonged to
those who had more of prosperity and education than himself. But
Skelly was a man of resource and not a coward.

"You're right," he cried, "I'm Bill Skelly, an' we want your
horses an' arms. We need 'em in our business. Now, just hop down
an' deliver. We're twenty to three."

"You come forward at your own risk!" cried the sergeant, and
Skelly, despite the numbers at his back, wavered. He saw that the
man who held the rifle aimed at his heart had nerves of steel, and
he did not dare advance knowing that he would be shot at once from
the saddle. A victory won by Skelly's men with Skelly dead was no
victory at all to Skelly.

The guerilla reined back his horse, and his men retreated with
him. But the three knew well that it was no withdrawal. The
mountaineers rode among some scrub that grew between the road and
the cliff; and Whitley exclaimed to his two comrades:

"Come boys, we must ride for it! It's our business to get
back with the dispatches to Colonel Newcomb as soon as possible, an'
not let ourselves be delayed by this gang."

"That is certainly true," said Dick. "Lead on, Mr. Petty, and
we'll cross the mountain as fast as we can."

Red Blaze started at once in a gallop, and Dick and the
sergeant followed swiftly after. But Sergeant Whitley held his
cocked rifle in hand and he cast many backward glances. A great
shout came from Skelly and his band when they saw the three take to
flight, and the sergeant's face grew grimmer as the sound reached
his ears.

"Keep right in the middle of the road, boys," he said. "We
can't afford to have our horses slip. I'll hang back just a little
and send in a bullet if they come too near. This rifle of mine
carries pretty far, farther, I expect, than any of theirs."

"I'm somethin' on the shoot myself," said Red Blaze. "I love
peace, but it hurts my feelin's if anybody shoots at me. Them
fellers are likely to do it, an' me havin' a rifle in my hands I
won't be able to stop the temptation to fire back."

As he spoke the raiders fired. There was a crackling of
rifles, little curls of blue smoke rose in the pass, and bullets
struck on the frozen earth, while two made the snow fly from bushes
by the side of the road. The sergeant raised his own rifle, longer
of barrel than the average army weapon, and pulled the trigger. He
had aimed at Skelly, but the leader swerved, and a man behind him
rolled off his horse. The others, although slowing their speed a
little, in order to be out of the range of that deadly rifle,
continued to come.

The pursuit at first seemed futile to Dick, because they would
soon descend into Townsville's valley, and the raiders could not
follow them into the midst of an entire regiment. But presently he
saw their plan. The pass now widened out with a few hundred yards of
level space on either side of the road thickly covered with forest.
The branches of the trees were bare, but the undergrowth was so
dense that horsemen could he hidden in it. Bands of the raiders
darted into the woods both to right and left, and he knew that
advancing on a straight line one or the other of the parties
expected to catch the fugitives who must follow the curves of the
road.

The advantage of the pursuit was soon shown as a shot from the
right whistled by them. Red Blaze, quick as lightning, fired at the
flash of the rifle.

"I don't know whether I hit him or not," he said, judicially,
"but the chances are pow'ful good that I did. Still it looks as if
they meant to hang on an' likely we kin soon expect shots from the
other side, too. Then if they know the country as well as they 'pear
to do they'll have us clamped in a vise."

As he spoke his eyes twinkled cheerfully out of his flaming
countenance.

"You certainly seem to take it easy," said Dick.

"I take it easy, 'cause the jaws of that vise ain't goin' to
clamp down. Bein' somewhat interested in a run for your life you
haven't noticed how dark it's gettin' up here on the heights an' how
hard it's snowin'. It's comin' down a lot thicker than it was when
we crossed the first time."

It was true. Dick noticed now that the snow was pouring down,
and that all the peaks and ridges were lost in the white
whirlwind.

"I told you that I had been a traveler," said Red Blaze.
"I've been as far as fifty miles from Townsville, and I know all the
country in every direction, twenty miles from it, inch by inch.
Inside five minutes the snowstorm will be on us full blast, an' we
won't be able to see more'n twenty yards away. An' that crowd
that's follerin' won't be able to see either. An' me knowin' the
ground inch by inch I'll take you straight back to your regiment
while they'll get lost in the storm."

There was room now in the road for the three to ride abreast,
and they kept close together. They heard once a shout behind them
and saw the flash of a firearm in the white hurricane, but no bullet
struck them, and they kept steadily on their course, Red Blaze
directing with the sure instinct that comes of long use and
habit.

Heavier and heavier grew the snow. There was but little wind
now, and it came straight down. It seemed to Dick that the whole
earth was blotted out by the white fall. He and the sergeant
resigned themselves completely to the guidance of Red Blaze, who
never veered an inch from the right path.

"If I didn't know the way my hoss would," he said. "I'd just
give him his head an' he'd take us straight to his warm stable in
Townsviile, an' the two bundles of oats that I mean to give him. I
reckon it was pretty smart of me, wasn't it, to order a snowstorm
an' have it come just when it was needed."

Again the cheerful eyes twinkled in the flaming face.

"You're certainly a winner," said Dick, "and you win for us
all."

The snow was now so deep in the pass that they could not
proceed at great speed, but they did the best they could, and, as
Red Blaze said, their best, although it might be somewhat slow, was
certainly better than that of Skelly and his men. Dick believed in
fact that the raiders had been compelled to abandon the pursuit.

When they reached a lower level, where the snow was far less
dense, they stopped and listened. The sergeant's ears had been
trained to uncommon keenness by his life on the plains, and he could
hear nothing but the sigh of the falling snow. Nor could Petty, who
had fine ears himself.

They descended still further, and made another stop. It was
snowing here also, but it was merely an ordinary fall, and they
could get a long view back up the pass. They saw nothing there but
earth and trees covered with snow. Looking in the other direction
they saw the sunshine gleaming for a moment on a roof in
Townsville.

"We're all safe now," said Red Blaze, "an' we'll be with the
soldiers in another half hour. But just you two remember that mebbe
the next time I couldn't call up a snowstorm to cover us an' save
our lives."

"Once is enough," said Dick, "and, Mr. Petty, Sergeant Whitley
and I want to thank you."

Mittened hands met buckskinned ones in the strong grasp of
friendship, and now, as they rode on, the whole village emerged into
sight. There was the long train standing on the track, the smoke
rising in spires from the neat houses, and then the figures of human
beings.

The fall of snow was light in the valley and as soon as they
reached the levels the three proceeded at a gallop. Dick saw
Colonel Newcomb standing by the train, and springing from his horse
he handed him the dispatch. The colonel opened it, and as he read
Dick saw the glow appear upon his face.

"Fire up!" he said to Canby, the engineer, who stood near.
"We start at once!"

The troops who were ready and waiting were hurried into the
coaches, and the engine whistled for departure.