The Mountaineer's Revenge.
And if we do but watch the hour, There never yet was human power Which could evade, if unforgiven, The patient search and vigil long Of him who treasures up a wrong.
--Byron.
Harry Glen's first feeling when he found the battle was really over, was that of elation that the crisis to which he had looked forward with so much apprehension, had passed without his receiving any bodily harm.This was soon replaced by regret that the long-coveted opportunity had been suffered to pass unimproved, and still another strong sentiment--that keen sense of disappointment which comes when we have braced ourselves up to encounter an emergency, and it vanishes.There is the feeling of waste of valuable accumulated energy, which is as painful as that of energy misapplied.
Still farther, he felt sadly that the day of his vindication had been again postponed over another weary period of probation.
All around was intense enthusiasm, growing stronger every instant.
It was the first battle tha the victors had been engaged in, and they felt the tumultuous joy that the first triumph brings to young soldiers.It was the first encounter upon the soil of Kentucky;it was the first victory between the Cumberland Mountains and the Mississippi River, and the loss of the victors was insignificant, compared with that of the vanquished.
The cold drench from the skies, the dreary mud--even the dead and wounded--were forgotten in the jubilation at the sight of the lately insolent foe flying in confusion down the mountain side, recking for nothing so much as for personal safety.
The band continued to play patriotic airs, and the cannon to thunder long after the last Rebel had disappeared in the thick woods at the bottom of the gloomy gorge.
A detail of men and some wagons were sent back after the regiment's baggage, and the rest of the boys, after a few minutes survey of the battle-field, were set to work building fires, cooking rations and preparing from the branches and brush such shelter as could be made to do substitute duty for the tents left behind.
Little as was Harry's normal inclination to manual labor, it was less than ever now, with these emotions struggling in his mind, and leaving his comrades hard at work, he wandered off to where Hoosier Knob, a commanding eminence on the left of the battle-field seemed to offer the best view of the retreat of the forces of Zollicoffer.Arriving there, he pushed on down the slope to where the enemy's line had stood, and where now were groups of men in blue uniforms, searching for trophies of the fight.In one place a musket would be found; in another a cap with a silver star, or a canteen quaintly fashioned from alternate staves of red and white cedar.Each "find" was proclaimed by the discoverer, and he was immediately surrounded by a group to earnestly inspect and discuss it.It was still the first year of the war; the next year "trophies"were left to rot unnoticed on the battle-fields they covered.
Harry took no interest in relic-hunting, but walked onward toward another prominence that gave hopes of a good view of the Rebels.
The glimpses he gained from this of the surging mass of fugitives inflamed him with the excitement of the chase--of the most exciting of chases, a man-hunt.He forgot his fears--forgot how far behind he was leaving all the others, and became eager only to see more of this fascinating sight.Before he was aware of it, he was three or four miles from the Gap.
Here a point ran boldly down from the mountain into the valley, and ended in a bare knob that overlooked the narrow creek bottom, along which the beaten host was forging its way.Harry unhesitatingly descended to this, and stood gazing at the swarming horde below.
It was a sight to rivet the attention.The narrow level space through which the creek meandered between the two parrallel ranges of heights was crowded as far as he could see with an army which defeat had degraded to a demoralized mob.All semblance of military organization had well-nigh disappeared.Horsemen and footmen, infantry, cavalry and artillery, officers and privates, ambulances creaking under their load of wounded and dying, ponderous artillery forges, wagons loaded with food, wagons loaded with ammunition, and wagons loaded with luxuries for the delectation of the higher officers,--all huddled and crowded together, and struggled forward with feverish haste over the logs, rocks, gullies and the deep waters of the swollen stream, and up its slippery banks, through the quicksands and quagmires which every passing foot and wheel beat into a still more grievous obstacle for those that followed.
Hopelessly fagged horses fell for the last time under the merciless blows of their frightened masters, and added their great bulks to the impediments of the road.
The men were sullen and depressed--cast down by the wretchedness of earth and sky, and embittered against their officers and each other for the blood uselessly shed--oppressed with hunger and weariness, and momentarily fearful that new misfortunes were about to descend upon them.In brief, it was one of the saddest spectacles that human history can present: that of a beaten and disorganized army in full retreat, and an army so new to soldiership and discipline as to be able to make nothing but the worst out of so great a calamity--it was a rout after a repulse.
