Books: Miss Lou

E >> E. P. Roe >> Miss Lou

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But little time elapsed before the activity of the surgeons began.
Mr. Baron was summoned and told that his piazzas and as many rooms
as possible must be occupied, and part of the wide hall fitted up
with appliances for amputations. Every suitable place in the out-
buildings was also required.

Mrs. Baron almost shrieked as she heard this, seeing at one mental
glance the dwelling which it had been her ruling passion to maintain
in immaculate order, becoming bloodstained and muddy from top to
bottom.

Mrs. Whately asked only for her son, and he soon appeared, with the
excitement of battle still in his eyes. She rushed to his arms and
sobbed on his breast.

"Come, mother," he exclaimed, "we've no time for this now. Please
get a sling for this left arm, which aches horribly--only a sprain,
but right painful all the same."

Before the agitated lady could recover herself, Miss Lou ran to her
room and returned with a scarf which answered the purpose.

"Oh, you deign to do something for me?" he said bitterly.

"Come, cousin," she replied, "since I have not lost my senses after
what's happened it's time you regained yours."

"Thank you, my dear," said his mother fervently, as she adjusted the
support for the disabled arm. "Yes, I trust that we may all regain
our senses, and, if we outlive these scenes, begin to act as if we
were sane."

"There, that will do," he said impatiently. "I must go now, for I
have important duties," and he hastened away.

Meantime General Marston had sent word through his picket line that
he would not interfere with the care of the wounded and that the
dwelling would not be fired upon if used as a hospital. He
accompanied this assurance with the offer of medical stores, coffee,
sugar and the services of two surgeons. The Confederate general
accepted the offer. The trembling negroes were routed out of their
quarters, and compelled more or less reluctantly to help bring in
the wounded. Uncle Lusthah showed no hesitancy in the humane work
and soon inspired those over whom he had influence with much of his
spirit. It had been a terribly anxious day for him and those about
him. Hope had ebbed and flowed alternately until night, when the day
which seemed to him the dawning of the millennium ended as he
imagined the world might end. Now, however, he was comforted in the
performance of good works, and he breathed words of Christian hope
into more than one dying ear that night.

Perkins, the overseer, was animated by a very different spirit. At
the first alarm of Scoville's return in the morning he had dashed
into the grove, and next concealed himself on a distant eminence
from which he could watch events. Under the cover of darkness he
returned, and experienced grim satisfaction when he discovered the
hated Union officer among the prisoners.

As Whately was making his final arrangements for the night, Perkins
touched his arm saying, "Leftenant, I'll help watch that Yank thar"
(pointing to Scoville). "They say he's ez slip'ry ez a eel."

"Do so, Perkins. We both have a heavy score to settle with him. At
daylight I'll send him where he won't fare as well as he did on this
plantation."

"Is your arm woun'ed?"

"No, only sprained, but it pains like the devil. Watch that Yank
well. I'd rather they all got away than he."

"He'll never get away alive," was the ominous reply.

As was true after the first skirmish recorded in this history, Mrs.
Whately now again appeared to the best advantage. Relieved from
overwhelming anxiety in regard to her son, her heart overflowed with
pity for the injured. From the outer darkness, limp, helpless forms,
in bloodstained garments, were borne in. Groans and half-stifled
cries began to resound through the house. Even Mrs. Baron forgot all
else now but the pressing necessity of relieving pain and saving
life, but she had eyes only for those who wore the gray. Mrs.
Whately, on the contrary, made no distinction, and many a poor
fellow, in blue as well as gray, blessed her as she aided the
surgeons, two of whom were from the Union lines. Miss Lou remained
chiefly in her own room and busied herself preparing bandages,
sparing not her own rather scanty store of underclothing in the
task.

Mr. Baron was in the dining-room, dispensing wines and liquors to
the officers who were coming and going. The Confederate general had
made the wide hearth, on which roared an ample fire, his
headquarters for the time, and was turning first one side then the
other toward the blaze, in order to dry his uniform. Poor Aun' Suke
had been threatened into renewed activity, and with many colored
assistants had begun a stewing, baking and frying which promised to
be interminable. Chickens, pigs and cattle had been killed wherever
found, for hungry soldiers after a battle and in darkness ask no
questions on either side. Mr. Baron knew he was being ruined, but
since it was in behalf of his friends, he maintained remarkable
fortitude, while his wife, with her thin, white, set face, honored
every requisition.

Some of the negroes, sighing for what seemed vanishing freedom,
sought to reach the Union force, but were stopped at the picket line
by which General Marston masked his retirement from the field. The
majority of the slaves, however, were kept at work indoors and out,
under the eyes of the Confederates, who quickly showed themselves to
be savage toward any disposition to shirk orders.

There was one who would have received short shrift if hands could
have been laid upon him--Chunk. None knew this better than he, yet
he was as fearless as he was shrewd. Scoville had already won from
him unlimited devotion--bought him, body and soul, with kindness and
freedom. When he found his new master had not returned from the
final charge, Chunk questioned one and another until he learned that
Scoville had been seen to go down and then disappear in the gloom.
Whether he had been killed or captured, no one knew, but Chunk
resolved to find out before morning at all risks. Yet in the
darkness and rain he felt much confidence in his ability to elude
danger, for he knew every inch of the ground and of numerous places
for concealment.

He set about his task in the most matter-of-fact way, resolving to
begin operations with a good supper. At this early stage Aun' Jinkey
and her cabin were both forgotten, and the poor old woman was half
dead from terror. When Chunk tapped at the one window, she feared
the spooks of dead soldiers had already begun their persecutions.
Never was there a more welcome and reassuring sound than the
impatient voice of her grandson, and she soon so rallied as to get
him something to eat.

"I darsn't come in," he said. "I got ter be whar I kin run en hide.
Now granny, lis'n wid all yo' ears. Marse Scoville killed, woun'ed
or took. I'se gwine ter fin' out which. Wen dey gits mo' settle down
lak anuff dey be lookin' fer me yere, en I kyant come yere no mo',
but I kin git ter Miss Lou's winder ef she hab no light in her room.
I safest whar dey ain' lookin' fer me. Tell her ter put no light
sho! Mebbe she hafter hep me git Marse Scoville off, ef he took en
ef he woun'ed she de one ter 'tect en keer fer 'im. Dat ar Perkins
kill 'im sho, ef he git de charnce. Now ef you years me toot twice
lak a squinch-owl, you knows dat you got ter go en tell Miss Lou dat
I need her hep en dat I gwine ter creep 'long de pazzer roof ter her
winder. Ef I doan toot you keeps quiet till you sees me agin," and
he disappeared.

"Who'd a thunk dat ar boy had sech a haid!" ejaculated Aun' Jinkey,
lighting her pipe. Deep as would now be her solicitude and great as
her fears, her grandson's appearance and words had dispelled the
spook-phase of her tribulations.

Chunk could run on all fours as easily as in an upright position,
and he made his way rapidly through the darkness. His first aim was
to get his eye on Perkins and Mad Whately, from whom he felt that he
and Scoville had the most to fear. He was now armed with a knife and
short club, as well as a revolver, and was determined to use them
rather than be captured. Skulking, creeping and hiding in deep
shadow, he at last saw Perkins issuing from his house, carrying his
lantern. Following, he distinctly observed the brief interview
between the overseer and Whately, and guessed correctly that
Scoville was among the prisoners. He was soon able so to shift his
position as to satisfy himself on this point, and also to note that
Perkins, from his movements, would be one of the guard. By the
gleams of the lantern Chunk also saw that Scoville appeared to be
watching the overseer as if suspecting treachery. "I watch 'im too,"
the negro soliloquized. "Ef he play eny debil trick he hissef gwine
ter de debil sud'n."

Scoville was indeed anxious about his position, for while he
believed that Whately was scarcely capable of transcending the
usages of war, he knew well that opportunity only limited the
malignity of Perkins. He therefore rarely took his eyes from this
personal enemy.

For his own sake and that of the guards, Perkins aided in building a
fire, for in the continued rain all were chilled. As Chunk saw the
leaping flames and the lantern so placed that its rays fell on
Scoville, he was almost in despair of any chance for rescue, but
believed that his best course was to watch for some change which
promised better. He remembered how Scoville had employed the
hootings of the screech-owl as a signal, and resolved by the same
means to prepare the prisoner for co-operation with any effort in
his behalf. Therefore he hooted softly and was glad to see from
Scoville's alert yet wary manner that he had recognized the signal.

So intent was Chunk in watching his master that he did not hear the
steps of a bewildered Confederate who stumbled over him and fell
headlong with a volley of oaths. The negro employed woful strategy
to mislead the soldier, for he grunted like a pig, thus awakening
hopes of more fried pork. The result was immediate pursuit by all
within hearing, and Chunk with difficulty escaped by the aid of
darkness and his complete familiarity with the place. When at last
he found himself secure he panted, "Mout ez well be took fer Chunk
ez a hog. Stand des ez good a charnce. Won't try dat ar game agin."

He was now sorely puzzled to know what to do, and his nerves were
somewhat shaken by his narrow escape. At last he resolved to send
his granny to Miss Lou and consult with the girl. Accordingly, he
stole into the shrubbery of the garden and hooted twice, rightly
thinking that Scoville could hear the signal also and believe that
something might be attempted in his behalf. Cowering under a bush,
he soon observed Aun' Jinkey tottering toward the house, muttering,
"Good Lawd, hep us!" as she went.

As the excitement of battle and exultation over the capture of
Scoville subsided in Whately's mind he became excessively weary and
his exhausted frame suffered from the chill and wetness of the
night. He had sought to keep up by liberal potations in his uncle's
dining-room, but was resolved to get a night's sleep if possible. He
had urgently charged the sergeant of the guard over the prisoners to
be vigilant. When Perkins offered to share in this watch Whately,
understanding the vindictive motive, felt that he need give himself
no further anxiety. He next sought his mother and obtained a little
food which the lady had brought to her room.

"Where is Cousin Lou?" the young man asked.

"She is in her own room, and with Zany's help making bandages. I
would advise you not to see her again to-night. You are greatly
wearied."

"Little wonder, after riding nearly all last night, and the fighting
to-day."

"Yes, I know, and have thought of all nearly every moment. I am only
too thankful that you have survived. You have gone to the limit of
human endurance and must sleep. The less you and Louise say to each
other for a short time the better. After you have both grown calmer
and have had a chance to think you will see things in a different
light."

"Mother, do you think I mean to be thwarted by that girl? I would
marry her now from pure pride--for the sake of humbling her and
teaching her that she made the mistake of her life in so crossing my
will and in subjecting me to the mortification I endured this
morning."

"Madison! actuated by such motives, you'll never win her! If you
will closely follow my advice I believe you can succeed. I must tell
you plainly that if you join with brother and his wife in their
tactics it will always end much as it did this morning."

"Well, anyhow, I have that cursed Yankee cub that she went walking
with in my power."

"What! Lieutenant Scoville?"

"Yes; he's a prisoner and Perkins is helping watch him."

"Then I implore you not to let Louise know it. She saw that this
Scoville might have killed you. She is merely friendly toward him
because, instead of treating us rudely, as she was led to believe he
would, he was very polite and considerate when we were in his power.
That wretch Perkins tried to shoot him to-day and probably would
have succeeded but for Louise," and she narrated the circumstances.

Her son frowned only the darker from jealousy and anger.

"Oh, Madison! why won't you see things as they are?" his mother
resumed. "If you had treated this Yankee officer with kindness and
thanked him for his leniency toward us, you would have taken a long
step in her favor. If you were trying to make her hate you, how
could you set about it more skilfully?"

"Mother," he replied doggedly, "if Lou had married me, even if she
had yielded reluctantly, I would have been her slave; but she has
defied me, humiliated and scoffed at me, and I shall never whine and
fawn for her favor again. I don't believe it would be of any use. If
I should change my tactics she would only despise and laugh at me.
What's more, my very nature revolts at such a change. I can't and
won't make it. She shall learn to fear me. Women marry for fear as
well as love. This Scoville gives me a chance to teach her the first
lesson. He shall be sent by daylight to a Southern prison and that
will be the last of him. Lou shall learn, as all will find out, that
it's poor policy to thwart me. That major who interfered so
impudently in our affairs is dead."

"Oh, Madison!"

"You needn't look so. I had nothing to do with it. There were plenty
of Yankee bullets flying to-day. All I mean to say is that it will
prove serious for any one to cross my path. Fate is on the side of a
man who WILL have his own way, and Lou will discover this fact
sooner or later."

Poor Mrs. Whately was compelled to rate these vaporings at their
true worth, seeing that between wine, anger and long-indulged
arrogance, he was in a melodramatic mood and beyond reason: so she
only said soothingly, "Please never let Louise know that I was aware
of Scoville's captivity. After you have rested and have had time to
think you will see things differently. I warn you however against
Perkins," she added solemnly. "If you identify yourself with him in
any way you may involve yourself and all of us in ruin. Now come, I
will make a bed for you at the end of the hall near my room, and you
had better sleep while you can."

He readily acquiesced, for even his lurid schemes for the future
could keep him awake no longer. In a few moments he was sleeping
soundly on a mattress, wrapped in a blanket. His uniform was hung on
the back of a chair near him to dry.

CHAPTER XXIII

A BOLD SCHEME

Aun' Jinkey gained Miss Lou's room in safety, but panting so from
fright and exhaustion as to be for a few moments utterly incapable
of speech. The girl divined that something serious was to be told.
To her questioning look, the old mammy nodded, glancing meantime at
Zany as much as to say, "We should be alone." This quick-witted
negress, consumed with curiosity about Chunk, and some deeper
interest, resolved not to be sent away.

"Why you look dat away at Miss Lou, Aun' Jinkey?" Zany asked
indignantly. "Time you knowed dat Miss Lou trus' me en I ain' doin'
not'n ter loss dat trus'. She know bettah'n you dat ef dars eny ting
ter be done I de one ter he'p."

"We can trust Zany," whispered Miss Lou, who had become very pale.
"You have some news about Lieutenant Scoville?"

"Well, on'y dis, honey, Chunk lookin' fer 'im. Marse Scoville didn't
come back fum dat las' fight, he say, en he say ter me dat ef he
toot twiced lak a squinch-owl dat mean I go ter you, fer he need yo'
he'p. He des done tooted," and Aun' Jinkey repeated all of her
grandson's words as far as she could remember them.

Miss Lou thought a few moments and her face grew very resolute.
"Aun' Jinkey," she said, "tell Chunk I will do as he wishes, but he
must act carefully and not too hastily. Cousin Mad is already
asleep. One after another will follow his example, and fewer will be
around by and by. We must take no risks that can be helped. The fact
that he wishes to see me in this secret way is pretty good proof
that the lieutenant is a prisoner. If he were wounded or--or--" but
a rush of tears suggested the word she could not utter. "You had
better go now, and let no one frighten you into telling anything.
Appeal to me if threatened."

As the old woman was stealing out she met Mrs. Baron, who asked
sharply, "What do you want?"

"Does you tink I doan wanter know dat chile is safe?"

"If you wish to be safe yourself, see to it you have nothing more to
do with that grandson of yours. He has sinned away HIS day of grace,
and no mercy will be shown to those who have anything more to do
with him."

"I years you, misus," said Aun' Jinkey, stolidly continuing on her
way.

Miss Lou, who had followed her mammy to the head of the stairs,
heard this warning and returned to her room with a stern look. She
deemed it best to say nothing and give the impression that she could
not endure the sights and sounds below stairs.

Mrs. Whately entered soon afterward and did her best to propitiate
her niece. Miss Lou pretended to be very weary and was glad to see
that her aunt actually was so. At last the matron said, "Well, I'll
go down once more and see if there is anything which I must attend
to; then I shall try to rest a little while Madison is sleeping.
Such experiences as we've had wear one out fast. I advise you, too,
my dear, to sleep when you can."

"Yes, aunt, I suppose you are right. So much may happen to-morrow."

Mrs. Whately soon retired, and Miss Lou, listening at her door a
moment, knew that she was sleeping. Then she returned to her own
room, blew out her candle, opened the window softly and waited for
Chunk. "Zany," she said, "sit in the dark there, and do not speak or
let Chunk know you are here, unless permitted."

Along the most secluded end of the house the piazza had not been
built, a small lean-to extension taking its place. An apartment was
thus formed which could be entered from without as well as from
within the dwelling, and here Mr. Baron maintained what was at once
a business office and a study. This extension was but one story
high, with a roof which sloped to rising ground beyond. Chunk knew
that he could easily gain this roof, and from it that of the front
piazza also. When returning through the garden Aun' Jinkey had
whispered to him not to make the attempt to see Miss Lou until her
light was extinguished. Then she added the words that Mrs. Baron had
just spoken to her and hastened tremblingly to her own chimney-
corner. Chunk made a wide circle, approaching the house again at an
angle which would give him a view of Miss Lou's window, and watching
till it darkened. From the garden he had carried a small, light
ladder which he had used when pruning fruit-trees. He stole near the
extension warily, the shrubbery growing in that vicinity favoring
his effort, and the heavy pall of clouds obscuring almost entirely
the mild radiance of the moon.

Satisfied by a careful reconnoissance that no one was watching or
stirring at that end of the house, with the stealth and agility of a
cat he went from roof to roof and crawled to Miss Lou's window.

"Chunk," she whispered.

"Dat's me, mistis."

"You're a good, brave fellow. Now tell me quick--don't waste a word
--where is Lieutenant Scoville?"

"He's wid de pris'ners, en Perkins en sogers watchin' 'im."

"Why is Perkins watching him?" the girl asked in deep alarm.

"Dunno, Miss Lou, 'cept on 'count ob he gradge. Mad Whately en he
talk knowin'--like en den Perkins tek he lantern en jine de gyard.
W'en I las' see 'im he watchin' Marse Scoville close."

"Lieutenant Scoville wasn't hurt, was he?"

"Reck'n not. Didn't 'pear dat away, but he look at Perkins ez ef he
feared on 'im. Ef I had ony Perkins ter deal wid I gib Marse
Scoville he freedom in pay fer mine, but dar's sogers all aroun' en
dey stick me quick ez dey would a pig."

"Oh, Chunk! what shall we do? I could have no influence over the
guard or Perkins either. Oh! OH! Mad Whately, you'll end by making
me loathe you. To think of employing that treacherous wretch!"

"Dat's des w'at I feard on, Miss Lou. Reck'n yo' cousin en Perkins
projeckin' some debil trick."

"You say my cousin has charge of the prisoners?"

"Yassum. I yeared 'im gib de orders 'bout um, but I too fur off ter
year w'at he say."

"Can you think of any way, Chunk?"

"Ef de gyard ony all get ter sleep, I'd tek de risk ob tacklin'
Perkins, but dere's too many en I des stumped ter know w'at ter do."

"Hi! Miss Lou," whispered listening Zany, "I kin tell you w'at ter
do."

"Doan you pay no 'tention ter her foolishness," said Chunk coolly.
"Dis life-en-death business, en Zany outgrowed her sense."

"En you ain' growed into your'n," responded Zany. "Ef you has, why
doan you tell Miss Lou 'bout tings dat kin be done 'stead o tings
dat kyant be?"

"Well, Zany, what have you to say? Quick, and speak lower."

"Miss Lou, dar's Mad Whately's coat en pants hangin' out in de hall.
You put dem on, en tie yo' arm up in a sling. In de night who say
you ain Marse Whately?"

"Oh, Zany!" exclaimed the girl, appalled at first by the boldness of
the scheme.

"Well, dar now," whispered Chunk, "who'd tink dat ar gyurl got so
much gumption! See yere, Miss Lou, dat de way ef you got de spunk
ter do it. Ole Perkins tink you Mad Whately comin' ter play de debil
trick en let you tek Marse Scoville way quietly, en de gyard won'
'fere wid you nudder, kase dey un'er yo' cousin. You kin go en lead
Marse Scoville right off, en if Perkins follow I settle 'im."

"Do you think there's no other way?" Miss Lou asked, with 'quick,
agitated breathing.

"Fo' de Lawd, I doesn't."

"I don't know what they would do to me in the morning, I'd be sent
away. Oh, you can't realize the risk I would take."

"'Spects not, mistis. I ony know Marse Scoville tek mo' resk fer you
ef he could."

Chunk had touched the right chord now. She set her white face like
flint in the darkness, and said, "I'll make the attempt, no matter
what happens to me."

"Den I des sneak out en get he coat en trousers," Zany whispered.

"Yes."

"En, Miss Lou, you des come out de house dis away wid me en Zany,"
Chunk added. "Less charnce er bein' stopped. We kin go troo de
gyardin end de bushes till we mos' whar we kin see Marse Scoville.
Mebbe hit berry much plainer w'at ter do arter we get out en look
roun'. I hab a ladder yere en you git down mighty easy."

"Yes, that's the best way. I wish to take no risks of being seen
till after I make my attempt."

Zany reconnoitred the hall. No one was in sight. Even Mrs. Baron,
wearied out, had retired, and Mr. Baron had resolved to spend the
night in the dining-room, partly out of courtesy to the Confederate
general and partly to be ready for any emergency. In the hall and on
the front and rear piazzas were alert sentinels who would have
observed and reported any unusual proceeding--therefore Chunk's plan
was the only feasible one. In the darkness Zany helped Miss Lou don
her cousin's uniform and slouched hat which, limp from the rain,
fell over her face. She was not so very much shorter than he as to
make the fit a bad one when seen in the partial light. The trousers
had to be turned up, but that would be expected on account of the
mud. Her plumpness filled out the coat very comfortably, and her arm
in a sling made the disguise almost perfect.

While Miss Lou was dressing Chunk again reconnoitred and reported
the coast clear. It was now about midnight and all were sleeping
except those whom imperative duty or pain kept awake. Chunk led the
way, steadying Miss Lou with a firm hand, and Zany followed.

"Now, Miss Lou," Chunk whispered, "I tek you de s'curest way, so you
git back en' nobody see you ef I git cotched."

They made a circuit to avoid the kitchen and climbed over a low
fence into the garden. On the further side, opening on the driveway
to the stables, was a gate. Before reaching this, Miss Lou said to
Zany, "You stay here. If there's an alarm, go to the kitchen. You
must not be known to have had anything to do with this affair. It
might cost you your life."

"Ve'y well, Miss Lou."

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