The Guns of Bull Run A STORY OF THE CIVIL WARS EVE
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as no train for Nashville reached that place until half past six in the
evening. His horse showed no signs of weariness, but he checked his
speed, and went on at an easy walk.
The road curved nearer to a line of blue hills, which sloped gradually
upward for scores of miles, until they became mountains. All were
clothed with forest, and every tree was heavy with snow. A line between
the trees showed where a path turned off from the main road and entered
the hills. As Harry approached it, he heard the crunching of horses'
hoofs in the snow. A warning instinct caused him to urge his own horse
forward, just as four riders came into view.
He saw that the men in the saddles, who were forty or fifty yards away,
were mountaineers, like Skelly. They wore fur caps; heavy blanket
shawls were drooped about their shoulders and every one carried a rifle.
As soon as they saw the boy they shouted to him to halt.
Harry's alert senses took alarm. They must have gained some knowledge
of his errand and its nature. Perhaps word had been sent from Pendleton
by those who were arraying themselves on the other side that he be
intercepted. When they cried to him to stop, he struck his horse
sharply, shouted to him, and bent far over against his neck. Colonel
Kenton had chosen well. The horse responded instantly. He seemed to
gather his whole powerful frame compactly together, and shot forward.
The nearest mountaineer fired, but the bullet merely whistled where the
horse and rider had been, and sent snow flying from the bushes on the
other side of the road. A second rifle cracked but it, too, missed the
flying target, and the mountaineers, turning into the main road, gave
pursuit.
Harry felt a cold shiver along his spine when the leading man pulled
trigger. It was the first time in his life that any one had ever fired
upon him, and the shiver returned with the second shot. And since they
had missed, confidence came. He knew that they could not overtake him,
and they would not dare to pursue him long. He glanced back. They were
a full hundred yards in the rear, riding all four abreast. He
remembered his own pistol, and, drawing it from his belt, he sent a
bullet toward the pursuit. It was too long a range for serious work,
but he intended it as a warning that he, too, was armed and would fight.
The road still ran through the forest with the hills close on the left.
Up went the sun, casting a golden glory over the white earth. Harry
beheld afar only a single spire of smoke. The houses were few in that
region, and he might go four or five miles without seeing a single human
being, save those who pursued. But he was not afraid. His confidence
lay chiefly in the powerful animal that he rode, and he saw the distance
between him and the four men lengthen from a hundred to two hundred
yards. One of them fired another shot at him, but it only shook the
snow from a tree fifteen feet away. He could not keep from sending back
a taunting cry.
On went the sun up the curve of the heavens, and the brilliant light
grew. The forest thinned away. The line of hills retreated, and before
him lay fields, extending to both right and left. The eye ranged over a
great distance and he counted the smoke of five farm houses. He
believed that the men would not pursue him into the open country,
but he urged his horse to greater speed, and did not turn in his saddle
for a quarter of an hour. When he finally looked back the mountaineers
were gone. He could see clearly a half-mile, and he knew now that his
surmise had come true. They dared to pursue only in the forest, and
having failed, they would withdraw into the hills.
He drew his horse down to a walk, patted his shoulder, and spoke to him
words of approval. He was not sorry now that he had passed through the
adventure. It would harden him to risks and dangers to come. He made
up his mind, also, to say nothing about it. He could send a warning
back from Winton, but the men in Pendleton knew how to protect
themselves, and the message might fall into wrong hands.
His journey continued in such peace that it was hard to believe men had
fired upon him, and in the middle of the afternoon he reached Winton.
He left his horse, saddle and bridle at a livery stable, stating that
they would be called for by Colonel Kenton, who was known throughout the
region, and sought food at the crude little wooden hotel. He was glad
that he saw no one whom he knew, because, after the fashion of the
country, they would ask him many questions, and he felt relief, too,
when the train arrived.
Dark had already come when Harry entered the car. There were no coaches
for sleepers, and he must make himself comfortable as best he could on
the red plush seat, sprinkled thickly with ashes and cinders from the
engine. Fortunately, he had the seat alone, although there were many
people in the car.
The train, pouring out a huge volume of black smoke, pulled out of the
station with a&nb
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