The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1892-01-06
cHAPrER V.


Tho General picked up the paper, and
after reading over tho few words in
three different ways he exclaimed:
II think have enough to act on!'
And you viii postpone the execu-
tion?" asked.
Eyes, feel justified in doing so till ]
hear further from Washington"
Without waiting to hear more fair
ly few down to the military prison. 1t
was OF Carrie I had been thinking, for
Carrie had been hoping and praying.
She saw me coming, and in her awful
eagerness she ran to meet mo. She must
have OWNED my message before spoke.
for her white face flushed and the
hunted expression fed her eyes. Cry
ing out: THANK God for the good newsl"
she threw her arms about my neck, and
our lips met in forgiveness and rcjoic-
ing.
At ten o'clock that morning the troop
wagons were ready to draw out, and my
men stood by their horses impatient for
the order to mount. ] had babe Carrie
and her brother goodbye, and her last
words were still ringing like music in
my ears: what you have done for me
and mine, Harry Watts, can never BIO
forgotten"
Holding my hand, General Boyle said:
Find out II Brent was In Powel!'s
Valley at the date he claims, and, II
you can get evidence to corroborate his
statement, send 1t through by one OF
your scouts at once. II this is not done,
the postponement which I have as
sumed may turn out TO be great mis-
fortune to all concerned"
The old soldier knew the secret OF
my interest. promised to do all that
lay in my power; then, with mutual
prayers for the success of our common
cause, l swung into the saddle. the
bugle sounded, and my troop rode out
of Camp Dick Robinson.
On the crest Of tho slope, winding to
the southeast, turned and lifted my
hat and, through the mist and storm,
saw the fiutter of white scarf, like an
angels wing, and felt that thcre was
one Union troop followed by the pray
ers OF Confederate woman.
This was my second visit to Camp
Dick Robinson. When here before we
were preparing under General Thomas
to advance against Zollicoffer, whose
host, unframed and boastful, was raid
ing the shores Of the Cumberland. War
seemed grand thing to me In those
days, when nearly every regiment
marched to the stirring strains Of its
own brass band, and when every private
had more impediments than o Major
General carried now. Then the trap
pings Of the horses were regal in their
splendor and the officers were moving
pictures framed in blue and gold, and
shoulder-straps were SO beautiful and
novel that IL was said some OF the
younger men worc them when in bed.
The regimental banners, aside from
what they symbolized, were things OF
shimmering, silken beauty; now they
were shredded and riddled, and blood
stained, but those very rents had be-
come eloquent with memories that
thrilled us as the new flags never did.
Our officers carried no insignia to dis
tinguish them from tho men. The trap
pings Of the horses were rusty and
cracked, our uniforms were faded and
some Of them rdely patched; our car
bines had lost the gloss Of finish; our
troop guidonswas battered, faded rag,
and the scabbards OF our sabers were
dented and worn. The cheer, the song
and the wild halloo Of exultant youth
were no longer heard in camp or on the
march. On the faces OF the youngest,
and the oldest man in that troop was
not twenty-seven, there werc set lines
that made them stern, lines
that had been burned deep in the fur
mace heat OF battle. But though not SO
fair to the eye, each one OF these men
was worth ten Of the volunteers OF the
early war.
Our march to Cumberland Gap was
over the route taken BY Brarg's army o
year before, when, after the fierce fight
at Perryville, they fell leisurely back,
laden with the rich spoils Of Central
Kentucky, while the tardy Union
legions made only show Of pursuit
Still, the track Of that unhurried retreat
was visible through every deflle Of the
tempest-tossed Cumberland range.
The log cabins, clinging like odd birds
nests TO the mountain lodges, were
abandoned or inhabited only BY women
and children. The fences that had in
closed their patches Of potatoes and
corn were gone, and the men who had