The Guns of Bull Run A STORY OF THE CIVIL WARS EVE
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of the spirits and melancholy. He was leaving behind Pendleton and all
that he had known. In the day the excitement, the cold air, and the
free world about him had kept him up. Now the swaying and jarring of
the train, crude like most others in that early time of railways,
gave him a sense of illness. The window at his elbow rattled
incessantly, and the ashes and cinders sifted in, blackening his face
and hands. Three or four smoking lamps, hung from the ceiling, lighted
the car dimly, and disclosed but partly the faces of the people around
him. Some were asleep already. Others ate their suppers from baskets.
Harry felt of his pockets at intervals to see that his money and letters
were safe, and he kept his saddle bags closely on the seat beside him.
The nausea created by the motion of the train passed away soon. He put
his face against the dusty window pane and tried to see the country.
But he could catch only glimpses of snowy woods and fields, and, once or
twice, flashes of water as they crossed rivers. The effort yielded
little, and he turned his attention to the people. He noted only one
who differed in aspect from the ordinary country passenger.
A man of middle years sat rigidly erect at the far end of the car.
He wore a black hat, broad of brim, and all his clothing was black and
precise. His face was shaven smoothly, save for a long gray mustache
with an upward curve. While the people about him talked in a
miscellaneous fashion, he did not join them, and his manner did not
invite approach even in those easy times.
Harry was interested greatly. The stranger presently opened a valise,
took out some food and ate delicately. Then he drew a small silver cup
from the same valise, filled it at the drinking stand, drank and
returned it to the valise. Without a crumb having fallen on clothing or
floor, he resumed his seat and gazed straight before him.
Harry's interest in the stranger increased. He had a fine face, cut
clearly, and of a somewhat severe and melancholy cast. Always he gazed
straight before him, and his mind seemed to be far from the people in
the car. It was obvious that he was not the ordinary traveler, and the
boy spent some time in trying to guess his identity. Then he gave it up,
because he was growing sleepy.
Excitement and the long physical strain were now telling upon Harry.
He leaned his head against the corner of the seat and the wall, drew his
overcoat as a blanket about his body and shoulders, and let his eyelids
droop. The dim train grew dimmer, and he slept.
The train was due at Nashville between midnight and morning, and Harry
was awakened by the conductor a half hour before he reached the city.
He shook himself, put on his overcoat that he had used as a blanket,
and tried to look through the window. He saw only darkness rushing past,
but he knew that he had left Kentucky behind, and it seemed to him that
he had come into an alien land, a land of future friends, no doubt,
but as yet, the land of the stranger.
All the people in the train were awakening, and were gathering their
baggage sleepily about them. But the stranger, who drank from the
silver cup, seemed not to have been asleep at all. He still sat rigidly
erect, and his melancholy look had not abated. His valise lay on the
seat beside him. Harry noticed that it was large and strong, with metal
clasps at the corners.
The engine was whistling already for Nashville, and Harry threw his
saddle bags over his arm. He was fully awake now, alert and eager.
This town of Nashville was full of promise. It had been the Home of the
great Andrew Jackson, and it was one of the important cities of the
South, where cities were measured by influence rather than population,
because all, except New Orleans, were small.
As the train slowed down, Harry arose and stood in the aisle. The
stranger also stood up, and Harry noticed that his bearing was military.
He looked around, his eyes met Harry's--perhaps he had been observing
him in the night--and he smiled. It was a rare, illuminating smile that
made him wonderfully attractive, and Harry smiled back. He did not know
it, but he was growing lonely, with the loneliness of youth, and he
wanted a friend.
"You are stopping in Nashville?" said the man with the friendliness of
the time.
"For a day only. I am then going further south."
Harry had answered without hesitation. He did not believe it possible
that this man could be planning anything against him or his errand.
The tall stranger looked upon him with approval.
"I noticed you in the train last night when you slept," he said,
speaking in the soft, musical accents of the seaboard South. "Your
sleep was very deep, almost like collapse. You showed that you had been
through great physical and mental strain, and even before you fell
asleep your anxious look indicated that you rode 
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