Chapter XVI: The Meeting

“Ho! who rides there?
The tramp of hoof, the flash of steel——
The rebels round them coming.”

And they turned to the right, and rode along the edge of the forest for some four or five miles, when they saw approaching them from the opposite direction a body of horsemen.

“That must be a detachment of our cavalry, Wing. What do you think?”

“I think it is, sir. But I can’t be sure yet. The clouds of dust prevent my seeing them clearly,” answered the boy.

“And then they are so far off. Let me see,” said the Colonel, taking out his field-glass and “sighting” the approaching party.

“I am nearly sure they are our men, sir,” said Hay, speaking for the first time.

“Yes, it is a detachment of the cavalry now stationed at W. What is afoot, I wonder?” exclaimed the Colonel putting spurs to his horse and galloping forward to meet the advancing party.

The officer in command of the squadron rode out to receive him.

The two met like old friends.

“Ho! Colonel Rosenthal! Happy to see you. Heard of your promotion this morning. Allow me to congratulate—no, not you, but—the regiment, on the acquisition of so brave a soldier and able an officer. I wish my company belonged to your regiment,” said the cavalry officer.

“Thanks, Major O’Neale. But—what’s out?”

“What’s out? The guerrillas. They are swarming into this neighborhood like seven year locusts. Goldsborough’s guerrillas have made a raid upon a party of excursionists near the Point of Rocks, and robbed them of everything even to the clothes they stood up in—even to their sacred linen?”

“Yes, I heard of that. A squadron of cavalry from Fort W. is out after them, but they are encamped somewhere near the Black Bear’s Pass, far enough from here,” said Colonel Rosenthal.

“Ah! is that so? Then there is no chance of falling in with them hereabouts?”

“None in the world.”

“And the Free Sword has re-appeared!”

“He has joined issue with Goldsborough, and their forces are united.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“I am quite certain of _that_, and I am half suspicious that you are out on a wild goose chase if you are after guerillas,” laughed Colonel Rosenthal.

“Not quite so fast. You have accounted satisfactorily for the Free Sword and for Goldsborough. But here is Monck suddenly sprung up with all his band from Heaven knows where. And they are ravaging the country right and left. It is after Monck especially, and not after the other two, that we are sent out,” said Major O’Neale.

“Monck, I think, will be found somewhere in the neighborhood of the Black Bear’s Pass, where he is expected to combine with Goldsborough and Corsoni for a new raid on an extensive scale. Thanks to the courage and discretion of my young orderly here, whom I sent as a spy into the camp of the Free Sword, I am in possession of all their plans, which I intend to reveal to General W. as soon as I get into the town.”

Major O’Neale deigned to turn his eyes for a moment upon the young orderly whom Col. Rosenthal had praised; but the question of the guerrillas was of too absorbing interest to admit of a moment’s wandering from the subject, and so he replied:

“Your information, obtained by so much courage and tact, and at so great a risk, may be very correct. I have no doubt that Corsoni and Goldsborough may both be at the Black Bear’s Pass, and that Monck may be on his way to join them; but, in the meantime, it is certain that he is ravaging the country about here. I suppose a score of fugitives have rushed into W. within the last twelve hours with tales of Monck’s burnings and wastings.”

“Then there can be no mistake about his near neighborhood.”

“None in the world. But the question is, where did his band spring from? One would think that they had sprung full grown, armed and equipped, out of the ground, like the myrmidons of classic story.”

“These vast forests afford too good a cover for these bandits. They should all be levelled,” said Colonel Rosenthal.

“But what a Herculean labor. And think how many of them _have_ been levelled——But you, Colonel, you are going on to W.?”

“Of course.”

“And with only these two orderlies by way of a body guard?——”

“Just as you see.”

“I strongly advise you not to do so. The road is certainly very unsafe,” said Major O’Neale.

“It is the road you have just passed?”

“Yes.”

“And you saw nothing of these reported guerrillas?”

“No—not a hair! But then they would not be apt to show themselves to a force like ours. But you and your two orderlies, Colonel, would be a great temptation to them. If I might do so, I should strongly urge you not to go forward, but to turn back with us!”

“I am ordered to proceed to W. immediately to take command of my regiment, and I must go on,” said Colonel Rosenthal, decisively.

“Then allow me to detail a portion of my men to guard you on your way, Colonel.”

“Not on any account. It would be very unwise for you to do so; for the withdrawal of such a number of your men as could be of any sort of use to me, in case of an encounter with Monck, would so weaken your force as to leave it liable to capture. No, I must go on with my boys and trust to Providence,” said Colonel Rosenthal.

Major O’Neale still respectfully remonstrated, but with little effect.

“If you were to divide your men you would render your own force inefficient, without affording me adequate protection,” said Colonel Rosenthal.

And so the friends parted—each going opposite ways—Major O’Neale and his command towards the ridge, and Colonel Rosenthal and his orderlies towards W.

The colonel with his attendants rode on a mile or two, and then, as the sun was sinking to his setting, they entered an arm of the forest.

“After all, I doubt whether we shall reach W. before dark. We must be still twenty-five miles off,” remarked Colonel Rosenthal.

“Sir, we are thirty,” answered Wing.

“These Virginia miles are certainly the longest I ever travelled,” laughed Colonel Rosenthal.

They went on, their path becoming narrower and more obstructed as they penetrated farther and farther into the depths of the forest. Sunset faded into twilight and twilight deepened into night. And the road became so narrow and obstructed that they had to ride in single file—Wing going before, Colonel Rosenthal riding in the middle and Hay bringing up the rear. So they proceeded slowly and silently for some distance, until at length Colonel Rosenthal drawing rein, called to his advance guard:

“Wing!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fall behind, my boy! If we are to have the honor of meeting Major Monck, or any of his men, I would prefer to be ‘to the fore’ to welcome them.

The young orderly obeyed promptly, though unwillingly enough, for he would have preferred to make of his own person a shield and breastplate to guard his colonel’s precious life.

“I say, Wing,” whispered young Hay, as once more they rode nearly side by side, “this is a demon of a dark road to meet the guerrillas in!”

“So it is,” admitted Wing.

“How far are we from W. now?”

“About twenty-two miles.”

“When does the moon rise, do you know?”

“About nine o’clock.”

“And it is not more than seven now. And we have two hours of black darkness before us.”

“Oh, we shall get into W. by the time the moon rises.”

“And who will thank the moon for rising then? We want light now!”

“Well we have light. I am sure the stars are coming out very brightly,” said Wing, encouragingly.

But Hay declined to be encouraged.

“Oh, yes! the stars are bright enough—what we can see of them through the upper branches of these thick cedar trees,” grumbled Hay.

“Look,” said Wing, as they were passing through a fordable stream that crossed their path—“look how clearly the stars are reflected in the water under our feet! and then tell me if you do not see enough of them and if they are not bright.”

“Well, I suppose our eyes are getting used to the darkness, and we can see better now, that is all,” grumbled Hay.

After crossing the stream, they found the forest road a little clearer, so that Wing was enabled to ride up side by side with his colonel.

“We are not more than twenty miles from W. now, sir,” said the boy, cheerfully.

“Twenty Virginia miles, Wing, which means twenty-five of any other sort,” replied the colonel.

“Hist! what is that?” cried Wing, in a low, breathless voice.

“What?” inquired the colonel, drawing rein.

“Where?” questioned Hay, riding up.

“That glittering object on the left hand of the road!—Oh, I see what it is now!” exclaimed Wing.

And they all looked and saw—not only one bayonet, but twenty or thirty, projecting from the thicket each side of the road, and gleaming faintly in the starlight.

“It is the guerrilla band. Retreat!” cried Colonel Rosenthal, raising his hand and turning his horse’s head. His two followers also turned.

But their road in the rear was bristling each side with bayonets. Retreat was cut off.

“Dash forward, then!” exclaimed Colonel Rosenthal, drawing his sword, wheeling, and putting spurs to his horse.

“Halt, you cursed Yankees!” yelled a guerrilla, leaping into the middle of the road, followed by all his band, who closed in upon the three travellers, surrounding them with a fence of fixed bayonets.

Of course the travellers had no other alternative than to halt.

“Surrender, blast you!” thundered the same voice that had ordered the halt.

“Bring your leader here, or conduct us to his presence,” said Colonel Rosenthal, sternly.

“I am the leader of this band, curse you! Hand me your sword before I wrench it out of your hand!” roared the brute.

“I think you would find that a rather difficult feat to perform, my friend,” said the colonel, grasping his weapon with a firmer hold, and frowning so sternly that the guerrilla, surrounded by his band as he was, quailed before the soldier.

“Will you hand me your sword, dash you?” thundered the bully, at length plucking up a spirit.

“No—not to you! I ordered you to take me to your chief, or to bring him to me,” said Colonel Rosenthal, firmly.

“And who are you, curse you, to give orders here?” demanded the guerrilla.

“I am one who will be obeyed,” answered the colonel.

The guerrilla replied by a volley of oaths which were, however, interrupted by another member of the band, who came suddenly upon the scene, and “spoke as one having authority.”

“Crowfield, what is the meaning of this?”

“It is this blasted Yankee prisoner, who won’t give up his sword until I tear it from his beastly hands. Demands to be taken before Major Monck, or to have Major Monck brought to him—devil burn him!” answered the savage.

“Crowfield, you are wrong. This is Colonel Rosenthal, and Major Monck’s orders were strict, that when he should be taken, he should be treated with courtesy, and conducted at once to his head quarters.”

“Oh, yes! that’s the way with the major! He’ll take a prisoner, feast a prisoner, and then hang a prisoner; but all in courtesy! Oh, yes! whatever the major does is always done in courtesy. As for me, I’d rather blast a Yankee and let him go, than bless him and hang him, as our major does. You’ll find worse fellows in the world than I am, if you wouldn’t give me up your sword, Colonel Prisoner,” said the guerrilla, nodding to Colonel Rosenthal.

“Sergeant Crowfield, you are drunk! and I’ll give you until four o’clock to-morrow morning to get sober in!”

“Captain Bannister, you’re a heap drunker ’n I am, and so I’ll give you until four o’clock to-morrow _afternoon_ to get sober in!”

“You are under arrest, sir. Blake! take his musket and look after him,” said the angry officer.

When these orders were obeyed, Captain Bannister turned to the prisoner and said:

“Colonel Rosenthal, we will take you to Major Monck’s head quarters that are only about three miles from this spot.”

Colonel Rosenthal bowed gravely and silently.

The guerrilla captain then placed a guard around the prisoners, and marshalled his band, and gave the order to march.

The body, consisting of about sixty well-armed men, moved forward upon the same road leading towards W., for some three quarters of a mile, and struck into a path on the right hand side of their way winding into the very innermost recesses of the wilderness.

Colonel Rosenthal rode on without exchanging a word with one of his guard.

Wing and Hay conversed in whispers whenever they could do so with impunity.

“Here’s a go!” muttered Hay. “I wish the colonel had taken Major O’Neale’s advice and turned back with the cavalry.”

“So do not I. The gallant colonel had done his duty, and the result is with the Lord,” answered Wing.

“Yes, I know. But this Monck doesn’t care for Lord or devil. He is as much worse than the Free Sword as an assassin is worse than a mere duellist. He is the coldest blooded demon alive! You will never see him excited; but he has been known to hang a prisoner before the door of his quarters, and sit down and eat his breakfast while enjoying a full view of the death agonies of the hanging and struggling victim!”

“May Heaven protect and deliver our colonel!” exclaimed Wing, clasping his hands in prayer.