A Daughter of the Union Part 24
Taking what she believed was the road over which they had come the girl trudged bravely along although it wound through a deep forest. On and on through the dark green gloom of the woodland she walked, knowing nothing of the vegetation of the South, and afraid to touch herbs or the wild fruit.
"I did not think the forest went so far," she murmured, as the day wore away and the shadowy vista of woods still opened before her. "And there was a house just beyond the trees. I ought to get to it soon. Then I will ask to stay for the night."
But the woods grew denser, and the road became but a narrow bridle path.
The afternoon drew to a close, and the brief twilight came suddenly upon her in the depths of the forest.
Jeanne stopped dismayed, and then sank down at the foot of a tall pine.
A feeling of homesick desolation crept over her, filling her with vague, undefined forebodings. The tall long-leaved pines and funereal cypress trees rose on either side. The twilight deepened into night and the hum of Nature's wildwood insects came to her ear. From the deeper forest came the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill. As the darkness deepened the hooting of the owls could be heard and the croaking of some frogs from a near-by swamp.
Jeanne felt cold chills creep up and down her back as the tall trees festooned with gray moss, almost reaching to the ground, swayed to and fro as a shiver of moaning wind stirred the air.
"I cannot stay here," she exclaimed springing to her feet. "It is better to keep on walking. Surely there must be a house somewhere near!"
And so, though she was faint from hunger and weary from walking, she trudged on. Presently the moon came up and deluged the forest with a shining flood of light. The dark pines, half in shadow, half in sheen, loomed vast and giant-like on either side of the gleaming path beneath.
Afraid to stop and rest, Jeanne walked on and on. All at once she heard singing. The sound filled her with new life and she hastened eagerly in its direction. Louder and louder came the melody to her ears until presently she was able to distinguish the words:
"'Do they miss me at home, Do they miss me?
'Twould be an a.s.surance most dear, To know at this moment some lov'd one Were saying, "I wish he were here"; To feel that the group at the fireside Were thinking of me as I roam; Oh, yes, 'twould be joy beyond measure To know that they miss me at home, To know that they miss me at home.'"
Tears rushed into the girl's eyes and a sob broke from her lips. "Do they miss me, I wonder?" she said brokenly. "Oh, mother, mother! How little do you think that I am wandering about in the woods without a place to lay my head. Mother, mother!"
"'Do they set me a chair near the table, When evening's home pleasures are nigh, When the candles are lit in the parlor, And the stars in the calm, azure sky?
And when the good-nights are repeated, And all lay them down to their sleep, Do they think of the absent and waft me A whisper'd "good-night" while they weep?
A whisper'd "good-night" while they weep?'"
Jeanne looked up as the singer came toward her. The bright moonlight fell full upon him as he paused for a moment to examine the lock of his gun, and she saw that he was a Confederate soldier on picket duty. He resumed the song as he swung the gun back to his shoulder.
"He is like d.i.c.k," thought the lonely girl. "I am sure that he has a kind heart, or he would not sing that song. Maybe he has a sister too."
Summoning all her courage she spoke timidly. "Sir," she said.
"Who goes there?" cried the startled picket with an ominous click of his weapon.
"Just a little girl," answered Jeanne, coming forward into the moonlight.
"I'm lost, and I don't know where to go."
"A girl! It's true I do declare!" burst from the sentinel's lips as he lowered his gun. "How do you come to be here in the woods at this time of night?"
"I am trying to get back to New Orleans, and I must have taken the wrong road." Jeanne was trembling but she tried to control herself. "Oh, could you tell me where I could get something to eat and a place to sleep? I--I am afraid."
Her voice broke and despite her efforts at self-command she burst into tears.
"There! Never mind! I'll take you to Miss Bob," said the soldier with rough kindness. "The woods ain't no place fur a girl at night. Just come with me."
Jeanne followed him gladly. A brisk walk of fifteen minutes brought them to a camp. The tents gleamed white among the trees and it seemed to the girl as though she had never seen so many in all her life before. Some men lounged lazily about one of the many fires that dotted the place, talking in subdued tones. They stared at the girl as the sentinel came in with her but made no remark. The soldier paused before a small tent and called softly:
"Miss Bob! Miss Bob! are you asleep?"
"What is it, Johnson?" came the reply in the soft sleepy tones of a girl.
"Here is a girl out here who is lost. She is hungry and wants a place to sleep. Will you see to her? I am on duty."
"Certainly. Go back to your post, Johnson. I will be out in a minute."
"All right." The soldier saluted and walked off leaving Jeanne a prey to conflicting emotions.
In a few moments the flap of the tent was pushed aside, and the slight figure of a girl about Jeanne's own age emerged from it.
"You are lost?" she asked advancing toward Jeanne and speaking quickly.
"And hungry, I think Johnson said. Come, we'll have something to eat, and then go to bed. Are you tired?"
Jeanne nodded, unable to speak.
"Sit here by the fire while I fix things. Jim," to one of the men, "this girl is hungry. Will you help me get something for her to eat?"
"'Course I will, Miss Bob." The man sprang to his feet and walked briskly away disappearing into what Jeanne afterward learned was the commissary department.
"We'll have something in a jiffy," remarked the girl encouragingly, beginning to poke up the fire.
"See here, Miss Bob, let me do that," and another of the men ran to her side. "I reckon Jim and me can fix things. 'Tain't no work for you."
Soon cold chicken, bread, and hot coffee were placed before the hungry girl and she ate ravenously.
"I didn't know that soldiers had chickens to eat," she remarked with a sigh of satisfaction as she finished the last morsel.
The girl called Bob laughed merrily, the men joining in heartily.
"We don't usually," and Bob controlled her risibles with difficulty, "but you see a whole heap of them walked right into camp, and so of course we ate them."
"Wasn't it queer that they should come right into camp?" said serious Jeanne. "I always thought that you had to run after them to catch them."
Again the girl and the men laughed.
"Of course they didn't exactly come here," said Bob comfortably, "but we've got the smartest regiment in the whole Confederate army. I verily believe that it could catch and skin a hog without a man leaving the ranks. Oh, they are fine foragers!"
"Forager?" Jeanne looked mystified. "I wonder if d.i.c.k is a forager!"
"Who is d.i.c.k?"
"d.i.c.k is my brother in the army," said Jeanne proudly.
"Well, if he is a soldier you can depend upon it that he is a forager,"
said Bob with decision. "Which side is your brother on?"
"The Union."
The smile died away from the girl's lips at the reply, and she looked at Jeanne with coldness.