The Rock of Chickamauga | Page 3

its wildness was not without its sinister note.
They approached a creek, deeper and wider than usual, flowing in slow, yellow coils, and, as they descended into the marsh that enclosed its waters, there was a sharp crackling sound, followed quickly by another and then by many others. The reports did not cease, and, although blood was shed freely, no man fell from his horse, nor was any wounded mortally. But the assault was vicious and it was pushed home with the utmost courage and tenacity, although many of the assailants fell never to rise again. Cries of pain and anger, and imprecations arose from the stricken regiment.
"Slap! Slap!"
"Bang! Bang!"
"Ouch! He's got his bayonet in my cheek!"
"Heavens, that struck me like a minie ball! And it came, whistling and shrieking, too, just like one!"
"Phew, how they sting! and my neck is bleeding in three places!"
"By thunder, Bill, I hit that fellow, fair and square! He'll never trouble an honest Yankee soldier again!"
The fierce buzzing increased all around them and Colonel Winchester shouted to his trumpeter:
"Blow the charge at once!"
The man, full willing, put the trumpet to his lips and blew loud and long. The whole regiment went across the creek at a gallop--the water flying in yellow showers--and did not stop until, emerging from the marsh, they reached the crest of a low hill a mile beyond. Here, stung, bleeding and completely defeated by the enemy they stopped for repairs. An occasional angry buzz showed that they were not yet safe from the skirmishers, but their attack seemed a light matter after the full assault of the determined foe.
"I suppose we're all wounded," said Dick as he wiped a bleeding cheek. "At least as far as I can see they're hurt. The last fellow who got his bayonet in my face turned his weapon around and around and sang merrily at every revolution."
"We were afraid of being ambushed by Forrest," said Warner, speaking from a swollen countenance. "Instead we struck something worse; we rode straight into an ambush of ten billion high-powered mosquitoes, every one tipped with fire. Have we got enemies like these to fight all the way down here?"
"They sting the rebels, too," said Pennington.
"Yes, but they like newcomers best, the unacclimated. When we rode down into that swamp I could hear them shouting, to one another: 'That fat fellow is mine, I saw him first! I've marked the rosy-cheeked boy for mine. Keep away the rest of you fellows!' I feel as if I'd been through a battle. No more marshes for me."
Some of the provident produced bottles of oil of pennyroyal. Sergeant Daniel Whitley, who rode a giant bay horse, was one of the most foreseeing in this respect, and, after the boys had used his soothing liniment freely, the fiery torment left by the mosquito's sting passed away.
The sergeant seemed to have grown bigger and broader than ever. His shoulders were about to swell through his faded blue coat, and the hand resting easily on the rein had the grip and power of a bear's paw. His rugged face had been tanned by the sun of the far south to the color of an Indian's. He was formidable to a foe, and yet no gentler heart beat than that under his old blue uniform. Secretly he regarded the young lieutenants, his superiors in military rank and education, as brave children, and often he cared for them where his knowledge and skill were greater than theirs or even than that of colonels and generals.
"God bless you, Sergeant," said Dick, "you don't look like an angel, but you are one--that is, of the double-fisted, fighting type."
The sergeant merely smiled and replaced the bottle carefully in his pocket, knowing that they would have good use for it again.
The regiment after salving its wounds resumed its watchful march.
"Do you know where we're going?" Pennington asked Dick.
"I think we're likely if we live long enough to land in the end before Vicksburg, the great Southern fortress, but as I gather it we mean to curve and curl and twist about a lot before then. Grant, they say, intends to close in on Vicksburg, while Rosecrans farther north is watching Bragg at Chattanooga. We're a flying column, gathering up information, and ready for anything."
"It's funny," said Warner thoughtfully, "that we've already got so far south in the western field. We can't be more than two or three hundred miles from the Gulf. Besides, we've already taken New Orleans, the biggest city of the South, and our fleet is coming up the river to meet us. Yet in the East we don't seem to make any progress at all. We lose great battles there and Fredericksburg they say was just a slaughter of our men. How do you make it out, Dick?"
"I've thought