The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1884-11-22

moon he could see the confederate cavalry pour
ing in impetuous flight Stuart, the cautious
and wary leader, had escaped.
Come men! We must follow our general on
foot-any way to get out of this. Come! Up by
the haystacks and over the ridge"
The strong man started up the hay-stacks.
The child, as if it was afraid it might fall,
wound its left arm affectionately about the
great gray shock of hair And that little act
saved it; that accidental show of affection won
the old fellows heart entirely. Why, he
would not now have pitched it aside with the
terrified negroes for gold Up the hill he led
swiftly, the men followed in groups knots, sing
ly, armed, unarmed, limpiug, leaning, erect, in
all manner of ways. only to escape the ferocious
federalS, charging up The hill from below. They
could see the points of shining bayonets entering
their camp, by the light of the burning fence
rails, as they fed out of it. and the black color
had nearly all faded from the flying confederates
as they neared the hay stacks.
Here the gray haired old sergeant with the
child on his shoulder, paused for moment I'M
der the hay stacks to get his bearings: The
moon had fallen down the crest of the hill. 1t
was nearly dark now. The federal bayonets
were only a few steps in the rear. The ragged
and demoralized confederates huddled close and
helpless up and after the tall and grlzzled old
giant, who stood there looking out which way to
lead them, with the child on his shoulder its
little left arm hugging the great gray head its
right one holding the flag
Tie tall, gray soldier threw up his great
heavy hand to his brow and looked out under
his broad palm to try and see which way to
lead Suddenly the hay stacks bazed out be-
fore him, and the whole scene was bright as
day. The federais had been waiting for the con-
federates to come. And now, as they stood
there, huddled together and helpless as sheep,
they found the haystacks in their path OF re-
treat, and stood there behind them, before them,
around them, to shoot them down in the light
they had kindled
It was a matchless and magnificent sight No
the child, excited and delighted it. What could
it care for the long line of cleaning guns lev
eled few rods away in the rear? What did it
know of the death hiding down in every gleam-
ing gun barrel of that compact mass OF uni
formed men lust beforel Nothing at all. Its
little heart leaped with wonder and delight at
the beautiful uniforms, the discipline, the quick
action Ill which every gun was brought instantly
to the shoulder. The bayonets were beautiful,
the cleaning bayonets all in the bright light
The child seemed to think this part of the
celebration, and in fullness of its delight just
as the federal officer drew his sword and was
giving the word "fre!" the child, holding tight
on to the great, grizzly head with its left hand,
and as if to contribute its part to the celebra
ton, waved its little flag there in the glare and
light. And in that awful stiffness which comes
always before any dreadful catastrophe, pped
out in its shril little voice, as it raised itself
higher for the occasion:
''Foof of JULY"
Put it upon record in gold and red that the
federal officer lowered the point of his sword.
The heavy breaches of the guns struck the stony
ground with thud. The line of blue divided,
and the old gray confederate, with his little
charge on his shoulder still waving its little flag,
passed on through the line, while cheer after
cheer shook the bullet-riddled leaves of the
oaks overhead.
And this is the story of the old confederate
soldier of the Shenandoah, who had missed
the train on the line to progress, down in old
Virginia