Before he could finish reloading, however, the men had turned around and were out of sight.In a minute Darby climbed over the barricade and strode up the road after them.He paused where the man he had shot had fallen.The place in the mud was plain; but his comrades had taken him up and carried him off.Darby hurried along after them.Day was just breaking, and the body of cavalry were preparing to leave their bivouac when a man emerged from the darkness on the opposite side of the camp from that where Little Darby had been felling trees, and walked up to the picket.He was halted and brought up where the fire-light could shine on him, and was roughly questioned --a tall young countryman, very pale and thin, with an old ragged slouched hat pulled over his eyes, and an old patched uniform on his gaunt frame.
He did not seem at all disturbed by the pistols displayed around him, but seated himself at the fire and looked about in a dull kind of way.
"What do you want?" they asked him, seeing how cool he was.
"Don't you want a guide?" he asked, drawlingly.
"Who are you?" inquired the corporal in charge.He paused.
"Some calls me a d'serter," he said, slowly.
The men all looked at him curiously.
"Well, what do you want?"
"I thought maybe as you wanted a guide," he said, quietly.
"We don't want you.We've got all the guide we want," answered the corporal, roughly, "and we don't want any spies around here either, you understand?""Does he know the way? All the creeks is up now, an' it's sort o' hard to git erlong through down yonder way if you don't know the way toller'ble well?""Yes, he knows the way too -- every foot of it -- and a good deal more than you'll see of it if you don't look out.""Oh! That road down that way is sort o' stopped up," said the man, as if he were carrying on a connected narrative and had not heard him.
"They's soldiers on it too a little fur'er down, and they's done got word you're a-comin' that a-way.""What's that?" they asked, sharply.
"Leastways it's stopped up, and I knows a way down this a-way in and about as nigh as that," went on the speaker, in the same level voice.
"Where do you live?" they asked him.
"I lives back in the pines here a piece.""How long have you lived here?"
"About twenty-three years, I b'leeves; 'ats what my mother says.""You know all the country about here?"
"Ought to."
"Been in the army?"
"Ahn--hahn."
"What did you desert for?"
Darby looked at him leisurely.
"'D you ever know a man as 'lowed he'd deserted? I never did."A faint smile flickered on his pale face.
He was taken to the camp before the commander, a dark, self-contained looking man with a piercing eye and a close mouth, and there closely questioned as to the roads, and he gave the same account he had already given.The negro guide was brought up and his information tallied with the new comer's as far as he knew it, though he knew well only the road which they were on and which Darby said was stopped up.
He knew, too, that a road such as Darby offered to take them by ran somewhere down that way and joined the road they were on a good distance below; but he thought it was a good deal longer way and they had to cross a fork of the river.
There was a short consultation between the commander and one or two other officers, and then the commander turned to Darby, and said:
"What you say about the road's being obstructed this way is partly true;do you guarantee that the other road is clear?"Darby paused and reflected.
"I'll guide you," he said, slowly.
"Do you guarantee that the bridge on the river is standing and that we can get across?""Hit's standing now, fur as I know."
"Do you understand that you are taking your life in your hand?"Darby looked at him coolly.
"And that if you take us that way and for any cause --for any cause whatsoever we fail to get through safe, we will hang you to the nearest tree?"Darby waited as if in deep reflection.
"I understand," he said."I'll guide you."The silence that followed seemed to extend all over the camp.
The commander was reflecting and the others had their eyes fastened on Darby.
As for him, he sat as unmoved as if he had been alone in the woods.
"All right," said the leader, suddenly, "it's a bargain:
we'll take your road.What do you want?""Could you gi'me a cup o' coffee? It's been some little time since I had anything to eat, an' I been sort o' sick.""You shall have 'em," said the officer, "and good pay besides, if you lead us straight; if not, a limb and a halter rein; you understand?"A quarter of an hour later they were on the march, Darby trudging in front down the middle of the muddy road between two of the advance guard, whose carbines were conveniently carried to insure his fidelity.
What he thought of, who might know? -- plain; poor; ignorant; unknown;marching every step voluntarily nearer to certain and ignominious death for the sake of his cause.
As day broke they saw a few people who lived near the road, and some of them recognized Darby and looked their astonishment to see him guiding them.One or two of the women broke out at him for a traitor and a dog, to which he said nothing; but only looked a little defiant with two red spots burning in his thin cheeks, and trudged on as before; now and then answering a question;but for the most part silent.
He must have thought of his mother, old and by herself in her cabin;but she would not live long; and of Vashti some.She had called him a deserter, as the other women had done.A verse from the Testament she gave him may have come into his mind; he had never quite understood it:
"Blessed are ye when men shall revile ye." Was this what it meant?
This and another one seemed to come together.It was something about "enduring hardship like a good soldier", he could not remember it exactly.
Yes, he could do that.But Vashti had called him a deserter.Maybe now though she would not; and the words in the letter she had written him came to him, and the little package in his old jacket pocket made a warm place there; and he felt a little fresher than before.
