The Blue and the Gray; Or, The Civil War as Seen by a Boy. Annie Randall White

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       Original

      “It seems I'm your prisoner, then.” Ralph's sad tones spoke volumes. The horrors of captivity stared him in the face. He thought at that instant, of his mother, sisters and the dear old home, and his heart was heavy as lead.

      Charlie appeared to be enjoying the advantage he had over Ralph, for he never removed his gaze.

      “I've but to raise my voice and you'd be surrounded in an instant.”

      “But how is it you are here now; I thought you knew nothing about the army,” said Ralph.

      “I didn't when I last saw you, but I joined the Southern army the next week. I am in the cavalry service.”

      Ralph's curiosity would never be silenced. “Do you like it?” he asked.

      “Yes, and no. I have been in several engagements, but the hardest blow I had was when they carried my father home dead, and I asked for a furlough, to go home to see him once more, and was refused.”

      Here the boy nearly broke down. Ralph's sympathies were aroused at once. He knew not what to say. But Charlie recovered himself soon, and continued—“You see how I'm placed now. I shall have to take you into our camp.”

      “I wish Bill were here!” Ralph blurted out. “He wouldn't see me taken prisoner so easily.”

      To him Bill represented the sum total of all knowledge, and he felt confident of his ability to rescue him, even in the face of the danger that now menaced him.

      A low whistle startled both boys. A few feet from them, stretched lengthwise of a fallen tree, lay Bill, who raised his head, which was bleeding freely.,

      “I've a good mind to take you both prisoners!” he said, jocosely. “What are you exchanging courtesies for? The boy's right. Unless we can get away in a very big hurry, he can land us both in the rebel camp, and then it'll be all over with us. You'd better be planning each other's escape, and then you'll both be likely to be court-martialed!”

      “It's my luck, isn't it? I can't blame Charlie if he does take me. But I haven't got anything against him.”

      “Neither has any of us got anything against any of the Johnnies. This is not a personal affair, at all. But just the same we've got to fight 'em because they're agin the government.”

      Ralph looked closer at Bill. “You're wounded, and will be carried to prison, too! Oh, Bill, what will become of you?”

      Original

      “It's nothing but a scratch. I lay here awhile till those fellows' guns gave out, for I felt a little dizzy, and didn't care to get up till the smoke cleared away, and I could make out my bearings.”

      A groan from their companion recalled them to their position. Ralph was in a fever of anxiety. War was a brutalizing affair, he pondered. “You mustn't have any feelings at all, Bill, if you want to be a good soldier.”

      “Nary a feeling. Humanity don't cut no figger in a battle. Why, boy, I've stood in the ranks and seen father on one side, and son on the other, blazing away with hate and bitterness in their eyes. And all on account of a mere difference of opinion.” Ralph shuddered. “It is dreadful; but war shall never make me so hardened and indifferent to suffering that I will not do all I can in honor to relieve it. I intend to fulfill all my duties as a soldier, but do not see why I should hesitate to show mercy to an injured foe.”

      “He's the right sort,” Bill chuckled to himself.

      With that thought in his mind, Ralph went nearer to Charlie, and said—“Give me your handkerchief, and I will bandage your ankle.” In a few moments he had finished binding it on, tightly and skillfully, while the boy looked his gratitude.

      “It feels a little easier,” he said, “the pain was intense.” Bill watched them both narrowly. In his heart he admired “the little rebel cuss,” but he wished him a thousand miles away, for he saw that it was impossible to make their escape, as Charlie had only to raise his voice as he had suggested, and the enemy would be upon them.

      It was a moment of anxiety for the man and his companion. Charlie was the most indifferent of the three. “I'd rather have been killed than have to go to their prison, for who knows how long it may be before I am exchanged?” thought Bill.

      The firing had ceased, and darkness had settled o'er the earth. Suddenly Charlie seemed to recollect something, for he whispered—“Go—you must go, at once. The detail СКАЧАТЬ