University of Virginia Library

XVI.
ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

We entered the grounds, and spurred after the gray
figures. Suddenly we found our course arrested by
a high plank fence; and, forced thus to check our
horses, witnessed a singular scene, without taking
any part in it.

The Confederates were pressing hotly a young
Federal officer, whose blue uniform was perfectly
plain in the bright moonlight.

He had issued from the house, and, running to the
stable, called to a terrified orderly, who stood fumbling
at the bridle, to bring him his horse. The
orderly seemed wholly incapable of obeying; and
uttering a loud shout, the Confederates, entering by
an open gate, rode straight at the officer.

As they did so, the young man wheeled round
and confronted them, drawing his pistol, and coolly
cocking it, without the least exhibition of alarm.

There was something superb in his bearing, and I
exclaimed: —

“That is a brave fellow!”

“Good heavens!” I heard Arden say; “it is my
brother Ralph!”

“Is it possible?”

“Yes.”

The Confederates were now nearly upon him.

“Halt!”

“Surrender!”

And the men drew their pistols as they spoke.

“Never with life!”[1] I heard the young officer
reply in a clear, collected voice.

And, raising his pistol, he took deliberate aim; the
discharge followed, and the foremost Confederate
fell from his horse, shot through the neck and mortally
wounded.

As the animal wheeled and ran, the young officer
coolly uttered the monosyllable: —

“One!”

The second confederate fired at him within six
paces, but missed. The report of the Federal officer's
pistol followed it like an echo, and the second Confederate,
throwing up his arms, fell from the saddle
like the first.

“Two!” came in the same deep tone.

By this time the whole party had rushed into the
stable-yard. I glanced at Arden beside me. He
was as pale as death.

“They will butcher him!” he muttered.

“Wait!” I said; “I am not so sure of that.”

In fact, the result seemed extremely doubtful.

The young Federal officer was plainly not at all
“demoralized.” Instead of retreating into the stable,
he advanced full into the open space lit by the
moon, and I could see that his belt was full of pistols.

Then I witnessed a superb spectacle. Not without
reason had Arden called his brother “cool”
and “brave.” I had seen exhibitions of “game”
often during the war; but a cooler man than the
young Federal officer, never.

He advanced straight upon his opponents, took
dead aim, fired shot after shot, and every shot appeared
to wound or bring down a man. In the
midst of a shower of bullets, he seemed to possess a
charmed life; none struck him. And still came
that deadly echo from his own weapon! The words
“three! four!” accompanied by the fall of the
men at whom he fired, testified to the fatal accuracy
of his aim.

This lasted at least ten minutes; at the end of
that time Lieutenant Arden, U. S. A., was master
of the field.

I saw him coolly replace his empty pistol in its
holster, catch the bridle of a horse belonging to one
of the Confederates whom he had shot, and then
turn to the frightened orderly.

“Orderly!” he said, in a perfectly calm voice.

“Lieutenant!” came in a trembling voice from
the stable.

“What a coward you are!” said the other,
laughing.

A sort of moan replied.

“Come out, you rascal!”

The trembling orderly appeared.

“Mount; lead my horse and come, or rather
go on.”

The victim of fright obeyed, and was soon galloping
off.

“Now, for number five!” said the officer, smiling
satirically; “they fire badly, these gentlemen.”

And, advancing coolly toward his adversaries,
who were crowded together in a little lane, waiting
for him to mount, he took deliberate aim at them,
fired, and looked to see if his shot had struck.
Then, as calmly as before, he again took aim, and
again fired.

These two parting shots exhausted, it seemed, his
loads. The young officer replaced his pistol in his
belt, threw himself on the horse of the wounded
eavalryman, which he had continued to hold by the
bridle, and, waving his hat around his head, galloped
off.[2]

In a minute he had disappeared, hotly pursued by

the cavalrymen, who, recoiling before his deadly
aim while on foot, waited for him to mount, in order
to follow on his track. They did so, now, at full
speed, and I heard shots resound; then they died
away, and all vanished.

Arden drew a long breath.

“Good heavens! what a man!” he exclaimed.

“What a brave man!”

“My brother?”

“Yes. I could have killed him by a bullet
through the side or back. Do you think I would
have fired on him? I would rather have cut off my
right hand.”

“Thanks, colonel,” said the young man. And,
with a quick blush, he added: —

“Here is Annie!”

In fact, a young girl came out with a light, and I
saw a rosy little face, framed in curls, shine in the
circle of radiance. Arden threw himself from horseback,
introduced his friend Colonel Surry to Miss
Annie Meadows; and an old lady, with thin, gray
hair under a white cap, having made her appearance,
the wounded cavalrymen were borne, with the
assistance of a maid-servant, into the house, and
their wants cared for.

Half an hour afterwards the wounded men were
dozing on couches spread on the floor of the apartment,
or occupied beds elsewhere; and Miss Annie

and Arden were whispering in a corner by the light
of a glimmering candle.

It was a charming picture. The young faces
glowed, the lips smiled, and the eyes were full of an
expression which the present writer carefully guards
himself from “making fun of.” I knew afterwards
that the young lady was explaining the visit of Arden's
brother, — an explanation which the reader
will have laid before him in due season; and I
suppose the “young things” talked of various other
subjects.

I can see them now, sitting in their little nook
by the window, bending toward each other, looking
into each other's eyes, smiling, blushing, — and —
yes! as I live, “shaking hands.” Enough of this
improper espial. Whisper, fond young lovers in the
moonlight night. Press hands, murmur low, enjoy
your chance meeting on the border. Be absurd, be
foolish, be as much “in love” as you choose. Some
cynics may laugh at you, but among them will not
be the smiling Colonel Surry, who listened for a
few moments to the prattle of the lovers, and then
snored in his rocking-chair.

At daylight I awoke and aroused Arden, who was
sleeping in a chair beside me. Miss Annie had disappeared.

Fifteen minutes afterwards we were mounted and
had regained the main road. A glance around told

me that I was near the Opequon, and consequently a
few miles only from Winchester, whither duty called
me.

“Good-by,” I said, after having informed Arden
of the latter fact. “I will see you soon again, I
hope, and make you sing for me of Annie!”

“You laugh, colonel, but it is a good-natured
laugh. Isn't she worth it?”

“Indeed she is.”

“Come again and see us soon.”

“Without fail!” And we parted with a close
grasp of the hand.

Two hours afterwards I had forded the Opequon,
passed Early's picket on the crest of hills overlooking
Winchester, and the paving-stones of that
ancient border town resounded beneath my horse's
feet.

That horse was Ratcliffe's splendid charger, from
which I had made him dismount. It was the sole
memorial which I retained of those two nights of
adventure on the banks of the Shenandoah.