 | Hilt to hilt, or, Days and nights on the banks of the Shenandoah in the autumn of 1864 |  |
XXII.
LIEUTENANT ARDEN, U.S.A.
I was close beside Landon when he uttered these
words. Never had I seen him look so happy.
“You will fight him?” I said.
“Yes.”
“A prisoner?”
“I will release him.”
“And his second?”
Landon pointed to a squad of prisoners approaching.
Suddenly among them I recognized young
Lieutenant Arden, U.S.A., who had exhibited such
courage at the house of Miss Annie a few days
before.
“There is a lieutenant,” said Landon; “he will
act as second.”
And seeing that Ratcliffe had half risen and was
watching him, he said: —
“I refused to give you quarter just now; I now
offer it on one condition.”
“What condition?” he said, sullenly.
“That you fight me to-night.”
“I am bruised — bleeding.”
“So am I.”
And Landon pointed to his bloody forehead.
“Choose!” he added; “either fight or prepare to
be shot! I hold no parley with, and have no mercy
for, house-burners.”
“I will fight you — if paroled,” growled Ratcliffe.
Landon looked at him.
“Paroled? — you?”
“Do you doubt my honour, sir?” exclaimed Ratcliffe,
starting up.
Landon's expression was indescribable.
“Not at all, sir,” he said, coolly; “you are paroled,
and will please select your second from the
prisoners yonder. Colonel Surry, will you be good
enough to act for me?”
I bowed and looked toward Ratcliffe.
He recognized me and scowled bitterly.
“Ah! I see you remember me, my dear Captain
Ratcliffe,” I said, laughing. “I am still riding your
horse, — an excellent one. But your second?”
“Lieutenant Arden,” he said, sullenly, pointing
to the young officer.
I bowed again, and went and introduced myself
to Lieutenant Arden, U.S.A., who received me with
great politeness. It is impossible to imagine anything
more tranquil than his demeanour. He told
with a smile that his horse had been shot under him,
his hand, and “they had ended by riding over him,
and demanding his surrender.”
“Whereupon you surrendered, lieutenant?” I
said, laughing.
“Of course,” he replied, with a smile.
“Well, you did not do so the other night, on your
visit to a young lady of our acquaintance.”
And I pointed toward the Opequon.
“Were you there?” he exclaimed.
“Yes, but not among your opponents.”
“A queer affair. They ought to have killed me.
My visit was unlucky.”
“Your visit?”
“To the young lady. Is she a friend of yours,
colonel?”
He smiled and glanced at me curiously.
“Don't fight me!” he said. “I went to carry
her a pass through the lines, which I heard she
wished. I have seen her but once before, and I did
not know —”
He paused and sighed.
“That your brother loved her?”
He looked at me.
“You know all, I see. Well, colonel, so be it.
At least you now understand why it would have
been stupid to have been killed that night. Unjust,
too. I was doing a good action.”
And seeing our Arden approach, the prisoner
went to him and said, laughing: —
“How are you, Harry?”
The young man leaped from his horse and threw
his arms round his brother's neck.
Blue and gray were clasped tight in each other's
arms!
When they drew back I think there were tears in
the eyes of both. Then, bowing toward me: —
“At your orders, colonel,” said Lieutenant
Arden, U.S.A.
| Hilt to hilt, or, Days and nights on the banks of the Shenandoah in the autumn of 1864 | |