Brother Against Brother; or, The Tompkins Mystery. Read online

  CHAPTER XXI.

  CRAZY JOE'S MISTAKE.

  Uncle Dan had long prided himself on his skill in woodcraft, and, to bethus outwitted in his old days, was more than he could endure. Heplunged recklessly into the brush, which was so dense that no objectcould be seen a dozen feet away. He ran several narrow risks, coming twoor three times almost into the rebel lines.

  "To think that a nigger should get ahead of me that way! It's too much!"exclaimed the old man, as he leaned against a tree, and listened to theoccasional shots which awoke the echoes of the forest. "But what do Iwant with him, if I should catch him? My business is to lead the armythrough the woods, and not to be following a strange nigger up anddown."

  A crushing in the underbrush told him that some one was advancing, and,a moment later, Corporal Grimm and Sergeant Swords with half a dozensoldiers came up to where the old man stood.

  "Hilloa, old boy!" said Sergeant Swords. "Pausin' to view the landahead?"

  "No, I've been trying to git a pop at a nigger," replied Uncle Dan.

  "What are niggers doing here?" said Corporal Grimm. "When dogs fight fora bone, the bone seldom fights."

  "The bone is in these woods, but I'll be hanged if I know what it's herefor. Let's be moving on."

  "D'ye know the lay of the land?" asked Sergeant Swords.

  "Every foot," said Uncle Dan.

  The long line of Union skirmishers was moving slowly through the thickwoods, and the line of Confederate skirmishers was retreating at thesame pace to cover the rear of their army. The crack of rifles rang outfrequently, but it was seldom with effect. It was evident that theConfederates were making for their stronghold beyond the Twin Mountains.The line of their retreat led by the foot of the mountains, where stoodUncle Dan's cabin.

  With some anxiety Uncle Dan watched the movements of the retreating massof soldiers. Among them was one short fat little fellow on foot, whoselegs were too short to ably execute his prodigious exertions to keeppace with his companions; his little gray coat-tails were streaming inthe air or whipping wildly against the trees. The officers, who were inthe advance, amused themselves by popping away at the fleeing rebel withtheir revolvers. Still he flitted on among the trees, into the brush,out of the brush, over the logs, and under the lower branches of thetrees, straining every nerve to keep up with his swifter companions. Thesoldiers were gaining on him rapidly, and it was painfully evident,that, when he reached open ground, one of these many loaded guns mustbring him down. His companions, who were several rods in advance,suddenly turned abruptly to the left, which he, evidently too terrifiedto comprehend which way he was going, kept straight ahead.

  Crack, crack! went the pistols of Grimm and Swords, and the bulletswhizzed uncomfortably near our short friend's head.

  "Oh, Lordy, Lordy, I know I shall be killed!" he cried in tones so wildand shrill that his fear could not be doubted. He reached the thicketbordering Wolf Creek and--crash, crash, bang!--he went through thethicket into the creek. The splash was plainly heard by his pursuersand, in spite of themselves, they could not repress a laugh.

  In a moment they were at the bank and beheld a half drowned little man,sneezing and coughing as he struggled to the bank and clung to somependant vines.

  "Hem, hem, or Lordy!--achew--hem, hem!--oh Lordy, achew!" he murmured."I'll--achew--quit this horrible soldier--achew--business. Oh! Lordy, Iknow I shall be killed! Achew! oh, Lordy. I want to quit this, I neverwas made to be a soldier."

  "Helloa!" cried Uncle Dan. "Come out o' there, and tell us who ye are."

  He looked up on the bank and, seeing the soldiers, with a cry plungedunder the water. In a moment more he came up to breathe.

  "Come out o' that and don't be playing mud-turtle," cried Uncle Dan. "EfI ain't mistaken, ye are Patrick Henry Diggs, and yer lost."

  It really was Diggs, and, with a yell of recognition and delight, hescrambled up the bank.

  "O, Uncle Dan, Uncle Dan, Uncle Dan!" he cried, falling almost exhaustedat his feet. "Save me, save me, save me!"

  "Save ye from what?" said Uncle Dan.

  "From being shot and drowned and killed. Oh, I solemnly swear that Iwill never have anything more to do with this soldier business. It isonly run, run, from beginning to end, and then plunging head first intoa muddy stream. Oh, I'll quit it, I'll quit it. Heaven forgive me, UncleDan!" he cried vehemently.

  "This is sorry business, Diggs. What war ye doing?" said Uncle Danseriously.

  "Running for my life," answered Diggs.

  "Get up, Diggs," said the old scout solemnly.

  The little fellow arose, looking more like a school-boy who was going tobe thrashed.

  "Diggs," said the old man, and there was not the slightest tinge of jestin his tones, "what war ye doing with the rebels?"

  "If you please, sir,--hem, hem--" began Diggs, greatly confused, turningpale as death and beginning to tremble, "I--I--was taken prisoner withthese two gentlemen," pointing to Corporal Grimm and Sergeant Swords.

  "No, you were not," said both at once. "We were never taken prisoners."

  "Oh, I beg your pardon--hem, hem!--gentlemen, please hear me through,and I can explain all this to you. I was taken prisoner by the rebelsone night, when I went out with these two gentlemen, and they--hem,hem!--I mean the rebels, kept me for a long time until they made me gowith them to-day, and you found me with them."

  "Do you mean to say that ye have been a prisoner all this time?" askedSergeant Swords.

  "Yes," said Diggs, after a moment's hesitation.

  "Then what was ye doing with a gun in yer hand, when we come on ye andthe others?" said Corporal Grimm.

  "You are mistaken, it was some one else," said Diggs, becoming confused.

  "No, I am not. We all saw you throw it away and run with the rest," saidthe Corporal.

  "Well, it was one I had just picked up. I was tryin' to escape, when youcame up, and I ran with the rest."

  "But here ye are with the cartridge-box belted around you," said theSergeant, "and you have the gray uniform on."

  Diggs was too much confused to reply, and his eyes dropped under thesearching glance of the soldiers.

  "Diggs," said the old scout, with great earnestness in his tones, "I'mafraid it will go hard with you. You are a deserter and a spy. It'ssorry business, Diggs."

  "O, Uncle Dan, Uncle Dan, promise me you will not let me be hurt!" criedDiggs.

  "Come along. You shall be treated as a prisoner of war, but I can't saywhat a court martial may do about your desertion."

  "O, Uncle Dan, you wont let them shoot me, will you? Say you won't, andI'll do anything in the world you want me to do. I'll enlist in yourarmy and fight on half rations."

  "You've 'listed a little too much already," said Uncle Dan. "This tryin'to sarve two masters won't do."

  "Oh, you surely would not let me be killed. Oh, promise me, you will notlet them take me out and shoot me." Poor Diggs broke down and sobbedlike a whipped school-boy.

  "Hush up blubberin'. Be a man, if ye've got any manhood about ye, andcome along."

  They now begin to retrace their steps back to where the main army hadpaused.

  "But, Uncle Dan, you have known me from a child, and you knew my fatherbefore me. Say that you wont have me killed!" sobbed Diggs, as he walkedalong with a soldier on either side of him.

  "That's beyond my control," replied Uncle Dan. "I'll turn ye over to theauthorities, and I can't make promises."

  Poor Diggs felt his heart sink within him. His very breathing becameoppressive, and the soldiers who walked by his side seemed like giantsof vengeance.

  "Oh, what must I do, I know I shall be killed," thought Diggs. Hereflected on his past life and commenced preparing for his exit fromthis world.

  In his mind he opened a double-column ledger account of the good and thebad acts of his life. He tried to think how many times he had prayed.They were few. Only on occasions, like the present, when his danger wasimminent. He remembered with horror, now, that when the danger wasgone, he
had always forgotten his good resolves, and mentally blamedhimself for his weakness. The bad column ran up so rapidly that itseemed impossible for the account to be balanced.

  "If I ever can get out of this," he mentally ejaculated, "I shall devotemy life to the Lord's service. I will be a preacher; I would make acapital preacher; I was meant for a preacher, I know. If the good Lordwill only get me out of this scrape, I will not go back on my word,sure!"

  When Uncle Dan's party came up, they found Colonel Holdfast, ColonelJones and Major Fleming holding a consultation under a large tree.

  "Here is Uncle Dan, the scout, the very man we wanted," said ColonelHoldfast. "But who have you there? Did you find your prisoner in thehome of the beaver and musk rat?"

  Uncle Dan explained how they captured Diggs, and then the scout wasinstructed that he was to pilot two of the regiments through the woodsto Snagtown, while the other was to follow up the retreating enemy.Uncle Dan understood in a moment how matters stood. There was no dangerfrom the retreating Confederates, but it was very important thatfortifications be thrown up at Snagtown.

  Poor Diggs spent the night following in the jail building with severalother prisoners. He passed the weary hours in prayer, good resolutionsand in the firm determination to be a preacher, if the Lord would gethim out of this scrape.

  "When the devil was sick, the devil a monk would be. When the devil was well, the devil a monk was he."

  Major Fleming, to whom was left the task of completing the rout of theConfederate forces, was a bold, energetic man. He pushed forward with nodelay after the demoralized and retreating enemy. The science of war wasyet new to both sides, and, while bravery and tact was displayed at anearly day of the war, there was a lack of the veteran's skill.

  The retreat was up Wolf Creek toward the mountains, through a rough,wild region. The advance of the Confederates came to where Uncle Dan'scabin stood. It so happened that Joe, who had so often been Uncle Dan'scompanion, was at the cabin, which he kept always ready for the oldman's return. He stood in the door way and watched the advancing throng,his mild blue eyes wide with wonder.

  "Do you come from the land of Canaan, and is the famine over where myfather dwells?" he asked of the rough soldiers, who paused at the springto drink.

  "Come from Canaan? No; we come from h--l," replied one, with a laugh athis own wit.

  "Have you seen my father?" asked Joe, in astonishment.

  "No; but we have seen the devil," replied another, "and he is close atour heels."

  The poor idiot looked alarmed. He vaguely comprehended that some dangerwas advancing, and his eyes filled with tears.

  "Oh, what shall I do?" he cried, in tones so plaintive, so pitiful, thatthey might have touched a heart of stone.

  "Do? Run," said one of the soldiers, "run for your life, and hide amongthe rocks. There are plenty about here."

  "No," said a third, "fight them. Here is a gun," handing him a musket."Take this and shoot the first one you see."

  Joe took the gun, but no dangerous light shone in his blue eyes.

  "I will fight no one but the Philistines," he said, thoughtfully.

  He was stunned and confused, and stood by the spring with the old musketin his hands, as group after group of armed soldiers hurried by.

  "Hilloa, Joe, what are you doing?" said a familiar voice, and HowardJones came towards him.

  "I am here to assist Samson slay the Philistines," replied the poorlunatic.

  "Put that down," said Howard, taking the gun from him and laying it onthe rocks by the spring. "Now run. Go that way," pointing to the west,"and don't you take any guns in your hands. If any one says 'halt!' stopat once."

  Howard Jones hurried on, hoping rather than believing, that Joe wouldfollow his advice.

  "Helloa, where are you going?" cried another soldier, as Joe startedaway.

  "Fleeing from Sodom," replied Joe.

  "Well, sir, don't you flee. Pick up that gun and fight the d----dYankees. Shoot 'em as fast as they come out of the woods."

  Joe, always obedient, took up the gun again and remained automaton-like,to obey the last speaker.

  "For shame, Bryant!" exclaimed Seth Williams, who came up at thatmoment. "He is crazy. Would you have him expose his life that way, whenhe doesn't know what he is doing? Put the gun down, Joe, and go thatway," said Seth, pointing to the west. "Go to Mr. Tompkins; he wantsyou."

  Joe hastened to obey, and Seth hurried on.

  There seemed to be some fatal attraction about that long line of movingmen, with burnished arms and glittering bayonets, to poor Joe. He hadnot gone a dozen rods before he paused to look back at them. Tramp,tramp, tramp, they went, on and on, and he looked till his weak mindbecame all confused with wonder. As the dangerous reptile chains thebird it seeks to destroy, and draws it involuntarily to its death, sopoor Joe felt involuntarily drawn towards that moving line of gray coatsand glittering steel. Who were they? Where were they going? When wouldthat long line end?

  They kept passing, passing, passing, so many men, and so much alike,that poor Joe finally concluded it must be only one man, doomed for somemisdeed to walk on, and on, and on forever, never advancing on hisendless journey. Joe forgot Howard Jones and Seth Williams, and,pausing, gazed on in mute wonder.

  But the main body had at length passed. Then the line became broken, andonly straggling groups of horsemen and footmen went by; then thesefinally came at longer intervals, but in larger groups. Joe thought theend must be near.

  The rear guard of the Confederates paused in front of Uncle Dan's cabin,to check the advance guard of Major Fleming.

  "Halt!" cried the officer. "Deploy skirmishers and the advance."

  "They're almost upon us, lieutenant," said a subordinate officer,riding in from the woods.

  "Let 'em come," said the first speaker. "Take shelter behind trees orrocks, and make sure of every head that peeps out of the woods."

  The men, about fifty in number, sprang to cover. The officer in command,chancing to look around, saw Crazy Joe, still spell-bound with wonder.

  "Hey, fellow," he cried, "what are you doing there?"

  "Nothing," said Joe.

  "Well, then, come here and I'll give you something to do."

  Joe obeyed. One look in his face was enough to betray the poor fellow'sweakness.

  The lieutenant knew that he was crazy, but, reckless of what the poorfellow's fate might be, he pointed to the musket Joe had laid on therocks, and said:

  "Pick that up, get behind those rocks, and when I say 'Fire!' shoot atthe men you see coming from those trees."

  Joe knew nothing else to do, but obey, little dreaming of the dreadconsequences that were to follow.

  "What do you expect that crazy chap to do?" asked a soldier, as herammed a ball down his rifle.

  "He can shoot, and his bullet may strike a blue coat."

  "Brace up and look more soldier-like," said one.

  "Who greased yer hat?" asked another.

  "When was yer hair cut?" put in a third.

  "What ye got in the pockets of that great coat?" said another.

  "Attention!" cried the lieutenant. "Here comes the enemy. Steady! Besure of your aim, and fire only when you have it."

  The Union skirmishers advanced cautiously, and the Confederates blazedaway, taking care not to expose their own persons to the sharpshootersin the woods below and above. The fire from the woods became deadly, andthe lieutenant ordered a retreat just as the Union forces in the woods,receiving reinforcements, made a charge.

  "Run, run for your lives!" cried the lieutenant, setting the example.

  A storm of leaden hail swept around Uncle Dan's low cabin, rattlingagainst the walls and shattering shade trees in front of it.

  Joe's face was now white with terror. The dread monster had come. He sawthe men about him take to flight, and, in his simplicity, he threw asidethe unused gun and followed them. He had not gone far before he changedhis course, running off to the left, down the creek bottom, where theg
rass was tall and dry. The Confederates kept straight on across thewoods, making for the mountain pass.

  A detachment of soldiers came up to the cabin, and, seeing Joe inflight, the others already out of range, levelled their guns upon him.

  "Hold!" cried an officer, in the uniform of a United States captain, ashe galloped up to the group.

  He was too late, before the word was fairly uttered, a dozen rifle shotsdrowned it.

  "Great God, you have hit him!" cried Captain Abner Tompkins, as, throughthe smoke of the muskets, he saw Joe throw up his hands, reel, and fall."You have hit him, and he was a poor, crazy fellow."

  In a moment Abner was beside the prostrate form. He sprang from hishorse and raised Joe from the ground. A deadly pallor had overspread hisface; his blue eyes were glazed and he was gasping for breath.

  "Who is it? Is he hurt?" cried Major Fleming, riding up to the spot,where the young captain was supporting the dying man on his knee.

  "It is a poor fellow called Crazy Joe, and some of our men have shot himby mistake," said Abner, a moisture gathering in his eyes.

  "He may not be badly hurt; perhaps he is only stunned," said the major.

  But while they yet spoke, Joe breathed his last. Crazy Joe was dead;dead, without one ray of light piercing the dark cloud he had so vainlytried to lift; dead, with the dark mystery of his life unexplained;dead, not knowing who or what he was.

  A musket ball had struck him in the back, passing out at the breast, andhe lived but a few minutes after Abner had reached his side; he waspast recognition then, and never spoke after he was shot.

  Abner had the body conveyed to his father's house. The troops returnedto Snagtown, having orders to pursue the enemy no further than the footof Twin Mountains.

  When Irene beheld the body of Crazy Joe, her resolution, which had borneher up under so many trials, gave way. She swooned, and, when sherecovered, her grief so touched Mr. Tompkins that he had a costly burialoutfit prepared for the poor dead boy. Abner obtained leave of absenceto attend the funeral, and, early in the morning, he entered the home ofhis childhood, where he had so often played with the helpless being, whonow lay there cold and lifeless. Irene met him in the hall, her eyes redwith weeping.

  "O, Abner," she cried, "it was such a cruel thing!"

  "Yes, dear Irene, it was cruel, but it was a mistake, we were powerlessto prevent," replied Abner, thinking it was the suddenness of his deaththat affected her.

  "But, O, Abner, you do not understand me. I cannot tell you howstrangely the death of this unfortunate being affects me. I loved Joe aswe love those whose blood flows in our veins. I knew it all along, butnever felt it so forcibly as now. 'Tis some great instinct, some higherpower than human reason, that prompts me. Come, see how peaceful, howhappy, how changed he looks."

  He went with Irene into the darkened room. Joe's body was dressed indark clothes with spotless linen, the hair trimmed and brushed, theeyelids closed over the troubled eyes. A look of intelligence had dawnedin death on the face for years expressionless. There was a strikingbeauty in the face, with its perfect curve, its delicate, clear-cutfeatures, and it seemed that there might have been a brain of powerbehind that lofty brow, on which he perceived the same deep scar that hehad seen on his head when a boy. Abner was astonished. He had neverthought Joe handsome with the old, pitiful look on his face, and hisastonishment deepened, when, for the first time, he observed a strikingresemblance between that face and the face of the girl who bent over it.

  "It cannot be possible!" he thought. "Yet it might be; the birth ofboth was shrouded in mystery."

  He did not give his thoughts expression, but he turned with deepeningcompassion from the white face of the dead to the face scarcely lesswhite of the girl beside him.