Three or four hundred voices took up the famous battle song, as thrilling and martial as the Marseillaise, then fresh and unhackneyed, and they sang it with enthusiasm and fire, officers joining with the men. It was a singular fact that Harry should first hear Northern troops singing the song which was destined to become the great battle tune of the South.
"What is it?" whispered Harry.
"It's called Dixie. They say it was written by a man in New York for a negro minstrel show. I suppose they sing it in anticipation, meaning that they will soon be in the heart of Dixie, which is the South, our South.""I don't think those baggy red legs will ever march far into our South,"whispered Harry defiantly.
"It is to be seen. Between you and me, Harry, I'm convinced there is no triumphant progress ahead for either North or South. Ah, another force is coming and it's cavalry! Don't you hear the hoof-beats, Harry?"Harry heard them distinctly and he and his comrade lay more closely than ever in the bushes, because the horsemen, a numerous body, as the heavy tread indicated, were passing very near. The two lads presently saw them riding four abreast toward the campfire, and Harry surmised that they had been scouting in strong force toward the Southern front.
They were large men, deep with tan and riding easily. Harry judged their number at two hundred, and the tail of the company would pass alarmingly near the bushes in which his comrade and he lay.
"Don't you think we'd better creep back?" he whispered to St. Clair.
"Some of them taking a short cut may ride right upon us.""Yes, it's time to make ourselves scarce."
They turned back, going as rapidly as they dared, but that which Harry had feared came to pass. The rear files of the horsemen, evidently intending to go to the other side of the camp, rode through the low bushes. Four of them passed so near the boys that they caught in the moonlight a glimpse of the two stooping figures.
"Who is there? Halt!" sharply cried one of them, an officer.
But St. Clair cried also:
"Run, Harry! Run for your life, and keep to the bushes!"The two dashed at utmost speed down the strip of bushes and they heard the thunder of horses' hoofs in the open on either flank. A half dozen shots were fired and the bullets cut leaves and twigs about them.
They heard the Northern men shouting: "Spies! Spies! After them!
Seize them!"
Harry in the moment of extreme danger retained his presence of mind: "To the cornfield, Arthur!" he cried to his comrade. "The fence is staked and ridered, and their horses can't jump it. If they stop to pull it down they will give us time to get away!""Good plan!" returned St. Clair. "But we'd better bend down as we run.
Those bullets make my flesh creep!"
A fresh volley was sent into the bushes, but owing to the wise precaution of bending low, the bullets went over their heads, although Harry felt his hair rising up to meet them. In two or three minutes they were at the fence, and they went over it almost like birds.
Harry heard two bullets hit the rails as they leaped--they were in view then for a moment--but they merely increased his speed, as he and St. Clair darted side by side through the corn, bending low again.
They heard the horsemen talking and swearing at the barrier, and then they heard the beat of hoofs again.
"They'll divide and send a force around the field each way!" said St. Clair.
"And some of them will dismount and pursue us through it on foot!""We can distance anybody on foot. Harry, when I heard those bullets whistling about me I felt as if I could outrun a horse, or a giraffe, or an antelope, or anything on earth! And thunder, Harry, I feel the same way now!"Bullets fired from the fence made the ploughed land fly not far from them, and they lengthened their stride. Harry afterward said that he did not remember stepping on that cornfield more than twice.
Fortunately for them the field, while not very wide, extended far to right and left, and the pursuing horsemen were compelled to make a great circuit.
Before the thudding hoofs came near they were over the fence again, and, still with wonderful powers of flight, were scudding across the country toward their own lines. They came to one of the clusters of trees and dashing into it lay close, their hearts pounding. Looking back they dimly saw the horsemen, riding at random, evidently at a loss.
"That was certainly close," gasped St. Clair. "I'm not going on any more scouts unless I'm ordered to do so.""Nor I," said Harry. "I've got enough for one night at least. Isuppose I'll never forget those men with the red bags in place of breeches, and that tune, 'Dixie.' As soon as I get my breath back I'm going to make a bee line for our own army.""And when you make your bee line another just as fast and straight will run beside it."They rested five minutes and then fled for the brook and their own little detachment behind it.
