The Shades of the Wilderness | Page 2

THE SOUTHERN RETREAT
II. THE NORTHERN SPY
III. THE FLOODED RIVER
IV. A HERALD TO LEE
V. THE DANGEROUS ROAD
VI. TESTS OF COURAGE
VII. IN THE WAGON
VIII. THE CROSSING
IX. IN SOCIETY
X. THE MISSING PAPER
XI. A VAIN PURSUIT
XII. IN WINTER QUARTERS
XIII. THE COMING OF GRANT
XIV. THE GHOSTLY RIDE
XV. THE WILDERNESS
XVI. SPOTTSYLVANIA

THE SHADES OF THE WILDERNESS

CHAPTER I
THE SOUTHERN RETREAT
A train of wagons and men wound slowly over the hills in the darkness
and rain toward the South. In the wagons lay fourteen or fifteen
thousand wounded soldiers, but they made little noise, as the wheels

sank suddenly in the mud or bumped over stones. Although the vast
majority of them were young, boys or not much more, they had learned
to be masters of themselves, and they suffered in silence, save when
some one, lost in fever, uttered a groan.
But the chief sound was a blended note made by the turning of wheels,
and the hoofs of horses sinking in the soft earth. The officers gave but
few orders, and the cavalrymen who rode on either flank looked
solicitously into the wagons now and then to see how their wounded
friends fared, though they seldom spoke. The darkness they did not
mind, because they were used to it, and the rain and the coolness were a
relief, after three days of the fiercest battle the American continent had
ever known, fought in the hottest days that the troops could recall.
Thus Lee's army drew its long length from the fatal field of Gettysburg,
although his valiant brigades did not yet know that the clump of trees
upon Cemetery Hill had marked the high tide of the Confederacy. All
that memorable Fourth of July, following the close of the battle they
had lain, facing Meade and challenging him to come on, confident that
while the invasion of the North was over they could beat back once
more the invasion of the South.
They had no word of complaint against their great commander, Lee.
The faith in him, which was so high, remained unbroken, as it was
destined to remain so to the last. But men began to whisper to one
another, and say if only Jackson had been there. They mourned anew
that terrible evening in the Wilderness when Lee had lost his mighty
lieutenant, his striking arm, the invincible Stonewall. If the man in the
old slouch hat had only been with Lee on Seminary Ridge it would now
be the army of Meade retreating farther into the North, and they would
be pursuing. That belief was destined to sink deep in the soul of the
South, and remain there long after the Confederacy was but a name.
The same thought was often in the mind of Harry Kenton, as he rode
near the rear of the column, whence he had been sent by Lee to observe
and then to report. It was far after midnight now, and the last of the
Southern army could not leave Seminary Ridge before morning. But
Harry could detect no sign of pursuit. Now and then, a distant gun

boomed, and the thunder muttered on the horizon, as if in answer. But
there was nothing to indicate that the Army of the Potomac was moving
from Gettysburg in pursuit, although the President in Washington, his
heart filled with bitterness, was vainly asking why his army would not
reap the fruits of a victory won so hardly. Fifty thousand men had
fallen on the hills and in the valleys about Gettysburg, and it seemed,
for the time, that nothing would come of such a slaughter. But the
Northern army had suffered immense losses, and Lee and his men were
ready to fight again if attacked. Perhaps it was wiser to remain content
upon the field with their sanguinary success. At least, Meade and his
generals thought so.
Harry, toward morning came upon St. Clair and Langdon riding
together. Both had been wounded slightly, but their hurts had not kept
them from the saddle, and they were in cheerful mood.
"You've been further back than we, Harry," said St. Clair. "Is Meade
hot upon our track? We hear the throb of a cannon now and then."
"It doesn't mean anything. Meade hasn't moved. While we didn't win
we struck the Yankees such a mighty blow that they'll have to rest, and
breathe a while before they follow."
"And I guess we need a little resting and breathing ourselves," said
Langdon frankly. "There were times when I thought the whole world
had just turned itself into a volcano of fire."
"But we'll come back again," said St. Clair. "We'll make these
Pennsylvania Dutchmen take notice of us a second time."
"That's the right spirit,"