The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1901-01-02
CHAPTER XIII.
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE.

CHAPTER XIII.
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BATTLE.
It was dark, foggy, dreary at Chal-
mette, about the first hour on the
eighth day of January, 1915, and the
little army Of the Americans lay in
silence behind the oozy bresstworks
just completed. Most Of the tired
soldiers were asleep, their clothes all
wet and muddy and their hands blis-
tered by the friction of pick-helve,
shovel-stave and spsde-hilt. For
whole days and nights on halt-rations,
and almost without sleep, they have
delved in the bitches and on the en-
bankments. Now they lay on their
arms. A few sentinels walked to and
fro with slow, weary tread. General
Jackson and his staff were asleep in q
plantation house not far in the rear Of
the line.
Mr.. Vernon was, by his own re-
quest, officer of the night, and all
alone made the rounds, again and
again, of the different commands in
the little army, from the river to the
swamp. he preferred this activity to
any attempt to sleep. The terrible
weight upon his heart and mind was
only less crushing when he could find
some exacting duty, the performance
Of which would force him to crowd
the moments demands to the front of
his thoughts.
A few hours more, and the battle
would come and be over with. How
would it end? In the intense selfish
ness of love-the deepest love of hus-
band and father-ne was thinking
only of the result to his dear ones in
the case of victory Or defeat. But be-
hind the awful sense of danger to,
them from their captivity to an army
whose brutality was at the time
known the world over, there lay
vast, formless, yet certain and distant
cloud of calamity creeping closer and
closer to their lives from out of his
past.
It was while he was standing near
eriver, at the west end of the breast.
works, where battery Of two guns
had been planted, that hand touched
his shoulder, and he turned to face
old Burns.
It was as if the tall, wasted form
had arisen out Of the ground. Mr..
Vernon did not at first recognize
him, but when he spoke, the voice
was unmistakable.
"There is no use trying to resist
the force yonder," said the preacher.
"They are five to your one. They will
overwhelm you in the morning. I
have been there; know what I say"
eff they are thousand to one."
growled Mr.. Vernon, 1--WE will whip
them"
"You cannot; they will pour right
over these works."
"They will never Cross that ditch"
IT tell you," said Burns with We
hemence, "there must be ten thou
sand of them, all in columns, ready
to move at daylight"
Mr.. Vernon thrust his face close to
that of the preacher and said:
"How do you know?"
"Did I not say that I was there?
It is not an hour since I stood within
their lines and saw what T have
spoken Of" was the prompt answer.
"Then come with me to General
Jackson; he must see you and speak
with you. Come onl"
He clutched Burns's arm and led
him toward the house where the gen.
eral was sleeping.
when they had gone little way,
Burns stopped suddenly, as if some
thought had demanded instant con-
sideration, or as # he had on the mo-
ment formed the stubborn resolution
not to go further.
"Thomas MacCollough," he ex-
claimed, with deep emphasis, "I owe
you my life, and now I would save
yours in turn. YOU"
"Hold" said Mr.. Vernon, inter-
rupting him with peremptory firm
ness. 'Not another word on that
score. You owe me nothing"
"Well, then, you will not blame
me il I kill him?"
"What do you mesn?"
"I speak Of Kirk MacCollougb,
your son!'
No mere presentation OF the words
can suggest the dramatic import of
this terse colloquy.
Mr.. Vernon turned a quarter about
and seized Burns's other arm.
Behind them little fire fickered
in the fog; they could dimly see each
others faces, grim and grizzled, as
they leaned closer and tried to stare
into each others eyes.
! Lately Mr.. Vernon had begun to
dread even the thought Of this man,
who now seemed the one greatest
danger to his happineJs; for it was
through him that the past seemed on
the point of being unlocked and re-.
opened. .Yasaeur knew puch: but