The Rock of Chickamauga | Page 6

to do so, has
posted up for us a warning. A lad of his spirit would go in search of
Forrest, and we cannot forget our experience with that general in
Tennessee. Now, boys, we'll make ready for the night, which is not far
away."
The house was built for a Southern climate, although Dick had learned
that it could be cold enough in Central Mississippi in midwinter. But it
was spring now and they opened all the doors and windows, letting the
pleasant air rush through the musty house.
"It may rain," said Colonel Winchester, "and the officers will sleep
inside. The men will spread their blankets on the piazzas, and the
horses will be tethered in the grounds. I hate to see the flowers and
grass trodden down, but nature will restore them."

Some of the soldiers gathered wood from heaps nearby and fires were
kindled in the kitchen, and also on the hearths in the slave quarters.
Colonel Winchester had been truly called the father of his regiment. He
was invariably particular about its health and comfort, and, as he
always led it in person in battle, there was no finer body of men in the
Union service.
Now he meant for his men to have coffee, and warm food after this
long and trying ride and soon savory odors arose, although the cooking
was not begun until after dark, lest the smoke carry a signal to a lurking
enemy. The cavalrymen cut the thick grass which grew everywhere,
and fed it to their horses, eight hundred massive jaws munching in
content. The beasts stirred but little after their long ride and now and
then one uttered a satisfied groan.
The officers drank their coffee and ate their food on the eastern piazza,
which overlooked a sharp dip toward a creek three or four hundred
yards away. The night had rushed down suddenly after the fashion of
the far South, and from the creek they heard faintly the hoarse frogs
calling. Beyond the grounds a close ring of sentinels watched, because
Colonel Winchester had no mind to be surprised again by Forrest or by
Fighting Joe Wheeler or anybody else.
The night was thick and dark and moist with clouds. Dick, despite the
peace that seemed to hang over everything, was oppressed. The
desolate house, even more than the sight of the field after the battle was
over, brought home to him the meaning of war. It was not alone the
death of men but the uprooting of a country for their children and their
children's children as well. Then his mind traveled back to his uncle,
Colonel Kenton, and suddenly he smote his knee.
"What is it, Dick," asked Colonel Winchester, who sat only two or
three yards away.
"Now I remember, sir. When I was only seven or eight years old I
heard my uncle tell of stopping, as I told you, at a great plantation in
Mississippi called Bellevue, but I couldn't recall the name of its owner.
I know him now."

"What is the name, Dick?"
"Woodville, John Woodville. He was a member of the Mississippi
Senate, and he was probably the richest man in the State."
"I think I have heard the name. He is a Confederate colonel now, with
Pemberton's army. No doubt we'll have to fight him later on."
"Meanwhile, we're using his house."
"Fortune of war. But all war is in a sense unfair, because it's usually a
question of the greater force. At any rate, Dick, we won't harm Colonel
Woodville's home."
"Yet in the end, sir, a lot of these great old country places will go, and
what will take their place? You and I, coming from a border state,
know that the colored race is not made up of Uncle Toms."
"Well, Dick, we haven't won yet, and until we do we won't bother
ourselves about the aftermath of war. I'm glad we found so large a
place as this. At the last moment I sent part of the men to the cabins,
but at least three or four hundred must lie here on the piazzas. And
most of them are already asleep. It's lucky they have roofs. Look how
the clouds are gathering!"
As much more room had been made upon the piazzas by the
assignment of men to the cabins, Colonel Winchester and some of his
officers also rested there. Dick, lying between the two blankets which
he always carried in a roll tied to his saddle, was very comfortable now,
with his head on his knapsack. The night had turned cooler, and, save
when faint and far lightning quivered, it was heavy and dark with
clouds. But the young lieutenants, hardened by two years of war and
life in the open, felt snug and cosy