The War Library: Phil, the Scout — page 15: what you’re looking at

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officers. Our plans are being perfected in “% utter secrecy. CanI trust you?” as “Trust me! Have you evor had a reason uy he yea o doubt my fidelity to the cause ?”’ “No; but this is such an important thing. Iam placing my honor at stake. You could brine upon me eternal disgrace.”’ Pte “Tf you cannot trust the woman you say en _ you love now, how would it be by and by?”’ r 7 ~ ~ _ Thecolonel averted his eyes. He could not meet the searching ens of Laura. “‘T do trust you, and I will prove it.”’ He then laid before her the scheme then nearly matured, of crushing the Union army under General Grant, near Pittsburg Land- ing, entering into the details fully, and for- getting im his enthusiasm that he had be- trayed the secret of the campaign. he expedition had been partly planned by him, and naturally he took pride in re- hearsing its features and telling what its re- sult would be. Laura drunk in the colonel’s words with a strange determination growing stronger and stronger within her. When he had completed the history of the surprise intended for the Union troops, Laura said : ‘*A bold enterprise, indeed. But what if news of it shouid reach the ears of General Grant before you have time to execute it?” There was something in the question which sent terror into the breast of Colonel Font- neroy. ‘¢Such au event is not to be thought of. Every step has been guarded. Only by the hand of a traitor could our project be brought to failure. It would be death to that traitor, for he would be hunted down like a dog. Why do you ask such a thing as that?’’ The girl rose and stood proudly before the colonel, whose face was pale and anxious. ‘Colonel Fontneroy, you speak of a be- trayal, and say it would prove disastrous to your cause. What would you think ofa man who betrayed the heart of a confiding woman?” There was no doubting Laura’s intention now. When it was too late, Colonel Fontneroy saw it. ‘** Laura, good Heaven! what do you mean? Why do you look at methus? It cannot be you intend to betray me now ?”’ ‘*You ask if lintend tobetray you! You, whose ety. word is spoken to deceive! For, know that [have learned your villainy. I have seen Arthur St. Clair.” The colonel staggered to his feet, his eyes bloodshot and wild. ‘‘“Woman, beware what you say!” he hissed. ‘‘ You make me almost beside my- self. What have Il todo with St. Clair? e is my enemy. His hand sent the bullet which came near taking my life. He hates me. Hehas lied to you, and you have be- lieved him.”’ ‘Why should I not? [f you can stand here before me and tell me truly that you have not ruined his life I will believe you still. Heaven kuowsI have tried to think he was dealing unjustly with you. Can you say it? I wait your reply.”’ Fontneroy’s face, white as death, told what his lips eould not—that it was true— that he could not deny the girl's accusation. ‘“‘T tell you,’’ he stammered, weakly, ‘‘he is my enemy. Why should you believe him? instead of me! Laura, come here and tell me you are not in earnest.”’ ‘“But lam in earnest !’’ cried Laura. ‘‘You did what St. Clair charges. I believe it, and Isball hate you forever for it. Love gives place in my heart to hate. I will never for- et the villainy you played toward him and he lies youtold to me.”’ ‘‘ Beware—beware! I tell you, how you trifle with me,’’ said Fontneroy, between his shut teeth. ‘‘I will not answer for myself if you do not cease.”’ The Confederate attempted to control him- self, but was failing fast. Laura stepped toward the door leading out of the room. ‘“T fear not your scorn!” she exclaimed. ‘‘Youcannot harm me. I bid you good- morning.’’ Fontneroy sprung between her and the doorway, attempting to check her in her es- cape, but she glided swiftly by him, and his hand clutched empty air. ‘“‘Laura Doane,” he cried, furiously, ‘‘ stop where you are, I command you!”’ As he spoke the glitter of a pistol could have been seen beneath his hand. It was pow diamond cut diamond between Laura and Colonel Fontneroy. The girl did not see this act of the officer’s, for she was already out of sight, leaving the 84 — THE WAR LIBRARY. colonel alone in the hall muttering to him- selt. A few minutes later, white with passion, Fontneroy rode back to Corinth, Hardly had he disappeared when a cloaked figure emerged from the Doane mansion, unattended, and took the road leading to- ward Pittsburg Landing. From beneath the ample folds of the hood there peered the black eyes of the beautiful Laura Doane. The web which the Confederates under the leadership of General Beauregard were weaving was now being drawn tighter and tighter around the unsuspicious Unionists encamped between Pittsburg Landing, on theleft bank of the Tennessee River, and the Shiloh Meeting House, in the forest about two miles from the same stream. Beauregard, who had been lying at Cor- inth, had been joined by General Johnston and his troops after they had fled from Nash- ville. He also had for his assistants Generals Polk, Bragg, Hardee and Breckenridge. Seeing that Grant’s great hope was to reach and occupy Corinth, and that until the arrival of General Buell he would searcely attempt an attack, the Confederate general determined to become for the once aggres- sive, and strike his opponent unawares a blow, which would not only send him back- ward in defeat but revive the drooping spir- its of the entire South. Colonel Fontneroy, foreseeing that unless immediate action were taken, all would be lost through his own folly in revealing their plans to Laura Doane, now urged an advaiice without delay, giving as his reason the belief that Buell would come up quicker than they supposed, and defeat all. Convineed by this argument, General Beauregard determined upon carrying into execution at once the famous cowpd’ etat, which came so near to proving the greatest success of the Confederacy. Through the eternal drizzle of that gloomy day in spring the Confederates marched in separate columns, under their respective leaders, out of Corinth, and concentrated near Pittsburg Landing. So stealthy was their movement that they reached a point only four miles distant from the Union forces before they were discovered. On April 5, 1862, they halted to await the arrival of Price and Van Dorn from Central Arkansas. The foree under Beauregard had been swollen from eleven thousand to forty thousand. Fontneroy, whose reputation was now at stake, tried to convince General Beauregard that nothing would be gained by waiting for further reinforcement. Prompt and decisive action was bis con- tinued appeal. But Beauregard waited. And thus the two mighty armies lay like panting tigers, ready for the pinnge which was tosend many a poor soldier, blue and gray, to the bloody grave. CHAPTER XV. A FEARFUL LEAP. Phil Lamonte struggled up in the boat, bound though he was, and leaned eagerly forward in the attempt to catch a glimpse of the persons who had so unexpectedly be- friended him. ‘“Who are you?” he asked, quickly. ‘‘Friends!’’ was the reply. ‘‘No need to tell me that,’’ responded our hero. ‘I know it already.” ‘Ts not that sufficient ?’’ asked St. Clair, as he severed with a single stroke the cords which had fettered the limbs of Phil. ‘“‘Wor some it might. Not for me. know whom to thank.”’ ‘“‘Then thank pretty Molly Grame here. To her more than any one else you owe your escape. Iam in her debt also.”’ Phil bent down, and by the pale light of the moonbeams struggling through the clouds looked into Molly’s face. How his heart leaped! Molly, his perserver ! Itmust be true, then, that she did care for him, if she were willing to risk so much for his sake. “Molly Grame! Well, this is indeed a happy surprise to me. How can I express my gratitude? Yet you, sir, must-have had no small part in bringing this meeting about.’’ And he turned to St. Clair. ‘“‘You are right,’’ said Molly, ‘‘ for more has depended on him than on me. Only he is too modest to admit it, that is all.”’ I must 15 — ‘“Nay, Miss Grame, I cannot let you apeek thus. However, it is enough that we have meaner you in It was sakmost too ate.”’ ‘*No one realizes that more fully than I," said Phil, solemnly. ‘‘Ina momeat more I would bave been under the waves. I hope to be able to show how thankful I am sometime, 1f not now. If I mistake not, I recognize in you the man who has already proved such w true friend to me, lam right, am I[ not?’’ ‘““We have met before." ‘“‘Thope you will not deny me now the pleasure of knowing yourname. It would rob me of half the happiness | would other- wise feel not to know whom I have to thank for this rescue.”’ ‘““T am Arthur St. Clair.”’ He spoke so sadly that neither Phil nor his companion questioned further. “Arthur St. Clair!’’ he continued, re- flectively. ‘The name sounds almost as strange to measif I never had heard it. It has been a long time since I have listened to it from other lips. Iam truly a lonely man, a wanderer on the face of the earth.” “Oh, speak not thus sadly,’’ said Molly, a tear-drop glistening in her eye. ‘“‘I know not your past, but I can assure you that in time. the future you shall not be a wanderer if we ean helpit. DoTnotspeak for you as weli as myself, Mr. Lamonte?”’ She turned to the young man beside whom she stood. ‘*You do, I assure you,”’’ was the reply. ‘‘T thank you more deeply than I ean tell, for I believe you mean What you say. Wor- get what I said just now. Only a mo- mentary weakness forced it from me. We now have too much before us to allow us to waste time uselessly. Every moment is fraught with danger. We may expect to hear from our friends on shore very soon."’ ‘““True,’’ said Phil, starting suddenly, as he thought of the work which lay before him, and felt thankful Oglethorpe had not thought to have him searched. ‘I especially have need to be away instantly.” ‘““What shall we do with our prisoner?” asked Molly, pointing to the form of the Con- federate who had formed one of the trio which had brought Lamonte out into the stream, but which at this moment lay trem- bling in the bottom of the boat. ‘‘He shall meet the fate he attempted to force upon our friend, Mr. Lamonte,”’ said St. Clair, sternly. ‘¢That is——"’ ‘‘ A cold bath in the water.”’ Molly shuddered at the words. She was unused to such scenes us this sentence brought to mind. ““Tt seems -evere,’’ she half pleaded. “The tables ure simply turned, that’s all.”’ ‘But he was acting under orders. That makes his crime less grave,”’ “You plead well for such a knave,”’ said Phil. ‘‘Seeing Iam the party lately about to have been the victim of this rascal, let me add a mean clause to his sentence. His hands shall not be bound as they bound mine.” ‘‘T accept,’’ responded St, Clair. The Confederate, who had up to the pres- ent kept silent, now began to beg piteously. But his plea was unavailing. In another instant he was floundering in the dark water, while St. Clair, seizing the oars, sent the boat flying toward the point where the horses were secured. With difficulty he brought the craft to the shore, as the current dashed heavily around the rock near by, forming a truly dangerous landing. When he did succeed in reaching shore, he leaped out, and after seeing Phil and Molly safe on land he ran to the secluded place where the horses had been left. They were gone! ' ‘* Fiends!”’ he muttered, ‘they now have us at an awkward disadvantage, indeed.”” | Hastening back to Phil, he said: ‘“We have, indeed, trouble ahead. Our horses, which we left, as we thought, in per- fect security, have been taken. We must continue our flight on foot.”’ This was truly a sorry plight. Whatcould be done? There were the boats. could they be? Phil especially had no use for such a course. His route lay toward Pittsburg Landing. Molly, brave little body though she was, felt for the moment very discouraged. The prospect was far from encouraging, in her mind. To add to their trouble at that moment @ But of whatservice ¥ iGcbooks <¢om (E@)