MARTHA FINLEY Ultimate Collection – 35+ Novels in One Volume (Including The Complete Elsie Dinsmore Series & Mildred Keith Collection). Finley Martha
then, are you equal to another effort?" asked Duncan, as the last one disappeared, and he thrust the leaves into his pocket, adding, "We mustn't leave these to tell tales to our pursuers."
"Yes, I dare not linger here," returned Allison, rising but totteringly.
Duncan threw an arm about him, and again they pressed forward, toiling on for another half-hour; when Allison again gave out, and sinking upon the ground, begged his friend to leave him and secure his own safety.
"Never!" cried Duncan, "never! There would be more, many more, to mourn your loss than mine. Who would shed a tear for me but Aunt Wealthy? Dear old soul, it would be hard for her, I know; but she'd soon follow me."
"Yes, you are her all; but there's a large family of us, and I could easily be spared."
Duncan shook his head. "Was your brother who fell at Ball's Bluff easily spared? But hark! what was that?" He bent his ear to the ground. "The distant bay of hounds! We must push on!" he cried, starting up in haste.
"Bloodhounds on our track? Horrible!" exclaimed Harold, also starting to his feet, weakness and fatigue forgotten for the moment, in the terror inspired by that thought.
Duncan again gave him the support of his arm, and for the next half-hour they pressed on quite rapidly; yet their pursuers were gaining on them, for the bay of the hounds, though still distant, could now be distinctly heard, and Allison's strength again gave away.
"I—can—go no farther, Duncan," he said, pantingly; "let me climb up yon tall oak and conceal myself among the branches, while you hurry on."
"No, no, they would discover you directly, and it would be surrender or die. Ah, see! there's a little log cabin behind those bushes, and who knows but we may find help there. Courage, and hope, my boy;" and almost carrying Harold, Duncan hurried to the door of the hut.
Pushing it open, and seeing an old negro inside, "Cato, Cæsar——"
"Uncle Scip, sah," grinned the negro.
"Well, no matter for the name; will you help us? We're Federal soldiers just escaped from Andersonville, and they're after us with bloodhounds. Can you tell us of anything that will put the savage brutes off the scent?"
"Sah?"
"Something that will stop the hounds from following us—quick, quick! if you know anything."
The negro sprang up, reached a bottle from a shelf, and handing it to Harry, said, "Turpentine, sah; rub um on your feet, gen'lemen, an' de hounds won't follah you no moah. But please, sahs, go little ways off into the woods fo' you use um, so de rebs not tink dis chile gib um to ye."
Harry clutched the bottle, throwing down a ten-dollar bill (all the money he had about him) at Uncle Scip's feet, and dragging Harold some hundred yards farther into the depths of the wood, seated him on a log, applied the turpentine plentifully to his feet, and then to his own.
All this time the baying of the hounds came nearer and nearer, till it seemed that the next moment would bring them into sight.
"Up!" cried Harry, flinging away the empty bottle, "one more tug for life and liberty, or we are lost!"
Harold did not speak, but hope and fear once more inspiring him with temporary strength, he rose and hurried on by the side of his friend. Coming presently to a cleared space, they almost flew across it, and gained the shelter of the woods beyond. The cry of the hounds was no longer heard.
"They've lost the scent, sure enough," said Duncan, exultingly; "a little farther and I think we may venture to rest awhile, concealing ourselves in some thicket. Indeed 'twill now be safer to hide by day, and continue our journey by night."
They did so, spending that and the next day in hiding, living upon roots and berries, and the next two nights in traveling in the supposed direction of the nearest Union camp, coming upon the pickets about sunrise of the third day. They were of Captain Duncan's own regiment, and he was immediately recognized with a delighted, "Hurrah!"
"Hurrah for the Union and the old flag!" returned Harry, waving a green branch above his head, in lieu of the military cap he had been robbed of by his captors.
Chapter Twenty-Seventh
"In peace, love tunes the shepherd's reed;
In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen;
In hamlets, dances on the green;
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below and saints above;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love."
—SCOTT.
"Escaped prisoners from Andersonville, eh?" queried the guard gathering about them.
"Yes; and more than half-starved; especially my friend here, Captain Allison of the——"
But the sentence was left unfinished; for at that instant Harold reeled, and would have fallen but for the strong arm of another officer quickly outstretched to save him.
They made a litter and carried him into camp, where restoratives were immediately applied.
He soon recovered from his faintness, but was found to be totally unfit for duty, and sent to the hospital at Washington, where he was placed in a bed adjoining that of his brother Richard, and allowed to share with him in the attentions of Dr. King, Miss Lottie, and his own sister May.
How they all wept over him—reduced almost to a skeleton, so wan, so weak, so aged, in those few short months.
He recognized his brother and sister with a faint smile, a murmured word or two, then sank into a state of semi-stupor, from which he roused only when spoken to, relapsing into it again immediately.
Slowly, very slowly, medical skill and tender, careful nursing told upon his exhausted frame till at length he seemed to awake to new life, began to notice what was going on about him, was able to take part in a cheerful chat now and then, and became eager for news from home and of the progress of the war.
Months had passed away. In the meantime Richard had returned to camp, and Harry Duncan, wounded in a late battle, now occupied his deserted bed in the hospital.
Harry was suffering, but in excellent spirits.
"Cheer up, Allison," he said; "you and I will never go back to Andersonville; the war can't last much longer, and we may consider the Union saved. Ah! this is a vast improvement upon Andersonville fare," he added gayly, as Lottie and May appeared before them, each bearing a tray with a delicious little lunch upon it. "Miss Lottie, I'm almost tempted to say it pays to be ill or wounded, that one may be tended by fair ladies' hands."
"Ah, that speech should have come from Mr. Allison, for May is fair and her hands are white, while mine are brown," she answered demurely, as she set her tray within his reach, May doing the same for Harold.
"None the less beautiful, Miss King," returned Duncan gallantly. "Many a whiter hand is not half so shapely or so useful. Now reward me for that pretty compliment by coaxing your father to get me well as fast as possible, that I may have a share in the taking of Richmond."
"That would be a waste of breath, as he's doing all he can already; but I'll do my part with coddling, write all your letters for you—business, friendship, love—and do anything else desired; if in my power."
"You're very good," he said, with a furtive glance at May, who seemed to see or hear nothing but her brother, who was asking about the last news from home; "very good indeed, Miss King; especially as regards the love-letters. I presume it would not be necessary for me even to be at the trouble of dictating them?"
"Oh, no, certainly not!"
"Joking aside, I shall