Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1883-01-20
BOTH CAPTURED.


few men to guard a gap in the Virginia
mountains. The blockade of the whole
South at that time was very rigorous. aud
supplies of any kind were rarely smuggled
through the Union lines.
One morning, as the Lieutenant sat
smoking in the door of his tent, one of his
outlying pickets presented himself red and
blown with running.
=" We got EN-, sir. It's some ov thin
rebels - hookin' it across the lines. l
brought 'em to with round turn?"
"Where 2" exclaimed the Lieutenant, as
he jumped to his feet. He was young and
jealous, and had not yet had chance to
Ell Well done, Wright.
" Carrying provisions, sir p
"No doubt No doubt Arms and
they? Were they taken prisoners p
The man looked sheepish. They're
back in the woods, sir. l jest fetched it
along"
at! What on earth =" The Lieu
woods, dashed behind copse and hauled
out little girl OF about ten years of age,
carrying basket. A donkey stood beside
her.
"There they be, Leftensnt. She was
footin' it past the pickets, singing Dixie to
herself as asey as yer please"
"Take your hands off the child l
Thought you had captured dozen men, you
braggart Vino are you, my child ?"
''Pm Dora Nettley, sir"
Dora was chubby, freckled child, with
honest brown eyes, which reminded the
Lieutenant of his little sister away out in
Michigan. Still, important information,
maps and dispatches had often been carried
by women and children since the war be-
gan, and this might be bearer of informa-
ton, child though she was.
"Wnere did you come from, Dora ?"
=" From Martinsburg, sir p
"And what have you in that basket"
The child's face grew red, she shut her
lips tight and remained silent.
Search it, Wright"
"Here's tea. SIR, and little package of
sugar, and here's bottle OF quinine pills.
Where are you going with these things,
Dora ?"
She looked wildly from side to side, her
chin quivered, and then she burst into
passionate sobs.
"Oh, let me go, sirl It's my mother.
She is down on the plantation all alone.
The negroes have all followed your army,
and my mothers alone and sick. I just
thought I'd buy her little tea and sugar
and the medicine.
How do you know she is sick 2"
Patsey told me. Pstsey's the coach
man. He followed the soldiers up to Mar
tinsburg. He said there was nobody to
take care of her.
"And you rode from Martinsburg here
on this Donkey"
Yes, sir.
And meant to pass the lines?'
Dora nodded and her eyes sosrkled. This
kind-faced lad was not SO terrible foe af-
ter all. sc l was just going down the gap
road. have ridden it on Spot hundred
times before
Wright's face was eagerly turned to the
officer. ooh, lit the child go, Leftenant
What harrum kin she do with her bit of ia
for her sick mither, 1 wish I'd been in
betther business whin l teched you, sissy"
81 l wish you had, said Dora, simply.
"How does it happen that your mother
is alone p asked the Lieutenant. Where
is your father ?"
Dora's cheeks glowed fiery red. She
looked at the ground uncertainty. She was
a quiek-witted child, and had seen the pity
and sympathy in the officers eyes. If she
could hide the fact that her family were &C.
lively concerned with the Confederates
there was a chance that she would be al
lowed to pass. But-to lie
"Where is your father, Dora?" he re-
peated.
ain the army" she faltered.
Fighting for the Union?" said Gra-
ham, quickly.
There was long pause. He is with
Lee" she said, at last.
"Aaa your brothers p
"They are with Dick Ashby."
The young officer turned away impa.
tiently. He had hoped to find pretext
for being of service to the child.
"Walk down the field bit, Leftenant,
an kape yer back this way" whispered
Wright. "IIl give her the wink to be
of. And what harrum's done %
"No. l am sorry, Dora, but cannot
let you pass through the gap. It is against
orders"
She did not make any noise, but dropped
on the grass and buried her face in her
hands. 'Oh, want mother"
aye see. child" explained Wright,
"no support or comfort kin be carried to
the lnlny.
"Saes not an enemy" cried Dora,
+angrily. "She's mother"
Come with me, Dora, said the Lieu.
tenant. He lifted her on the donkey and
led her to the farm house where the wife
of General R had her quarters. She
was a gentle, motherly woman, and he told
her the story.
81 am going to the commanding officer
TO telegraph for permit for her to pass
the lines. You can discover whether she
has anything contrsband concealed about
her. But | would stake my life on the
honesty of the child"
"You will have ride Of twenty miles
In the hot sun, Lieutenant" said Mrs.
R. "Do you know the child -
''No; but can not help thinking what
if that poor woman yonder were my mother
and this child little Alice -
Mrs. R took the girl up to a little
chamber, which she told her should be her
own until the Lieutenant returned kissed
her and left. She felt inpatient with the
dreadful turmoil and sorrows of the war.
This poor mother, dying alone perhaps, and
the child wandering through the country.
Why was there 10 one who could set it all
right p
In the meantime Dora had hidden her
basket, locked the door and kn, elel down
by the side of the bed. She was prsyin
with all the strength of her little heart &c
God to help her. And on the other side q
the mountain, in solitary house, her moth
er lay alone, her hands covering her pale,
worn face, while she, too, spoke to the
same Friend, who had been her Friend Ii
whom she had trusted all her life.
Down the valley galloped the Lieutea
ant-a stranger to them both-promDted
he thought, by casual hken' IS Of the
child to his sister.
At the end of the day Lieutenant Ora
ham opened the gate of the farmhouse
Mrs. R, with Dora, hurried to meet
aim.