The Blue Balloon: A Tale of the Shenandoah ValleyHorsley, Reginald
History
The Blue Balloon: A Tale of the Shenandoah Valley
Horsley, Reginald
Adventure stories; Balloons -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
‘Ye may say thet, Luce,’ returned Ephraim, uncoiling his long length and
struggling into a sitting posture. ‘It war a mighty close thing, I
reckon. Look at thet.’
He lifted his face as he spoke, and Lucius, with an exclamation of
dismay, saw that his forehead was blackened with powder, and that one of
his eyebrows and part of his front hair were singed off.
‘Ye see,’ said Ephraim, gingerly touching the raw and tender skin, ‘a
leetle more and ye’d hev had ter steer yer way home alone. I reckon it’s
a powerful frightenin’ sort er thing, a gun bustin’ off et ye when ye
least expect it.’
‘But what happened?’ asked Lucius. ‘I wasn’t looking. That is, I looked
up in time to see your cap go off and the gun slip out of your hand. The
next I knew you were on your back.’ He gripped Grizzly’s hand and added
earnestly: ‘I’m so glad you weren’t killed, old Grizzly.’
‘I’m obleeged ter ye,’ answered Ephraim, still very white about the
lips. ‘So am I.’ His voice shook a little as he tried to explain the
matter to his comrade. ‘Ye see,’ he went on, ‘this is how I put it up.
Ez I war splashin’ around with the gun-butt in the water, the trigger
must hev got caught, or the hammer drawn back by a bolt and let go agen.
The next thing I knowed war a rush er blindin’ light past my eyes, a
wave like the breath er a bit of iron from a blacksmith’s furnace on my
forehead, and thet’s all. I went down et thet, and didn’t feel like
stoppin’ ter arsk questions.’
‘Was that the way of it?’ said Lucius. ‘At first I thought that somebody
had fired at you from the bank.’
‘By time!’ exclaimed Ephraim, the colour rushing back into his face, and
his nerves steeling again as he heard this. ‘I tell ye, bub, that’s
ezackly what they will be doin’ before very long. Why, don’t ye know,
the sound er that rifle-shot’ll bring the Yanks down on us quicker ’n
ennything. Luce, we must do suthin’.’
‘What are we to do?’ asked Lucius helplessly. ‘If we could not manage
the boat when we had both guns, what shall we do now that we have only
one?’
‘Waal, then,’ inquired Ephraim drily, ‘do ye want ter set still hyar
while the Yanks make a target er ye? I tell ye I don’t feel that way
myself.’ He made a wry face at the thought of his recent experience.
‘I don’t either, you may be sure,’ answered Lucius. ‘But something must
be done.—I have it, Grizzly; I have it.’
‘What hev ye struck?’ queried Ephraim, roused by the hope in his voice.
‘Why, of course,’ replied Lucius, ‘let us swim ashore and leave the ugly
old boat to take care of herself.’
‘Bullee!’ cried Ephraim, unbuckling his cartridge belt and flinging it
into the bottom of the boat. ‘Bullee! So we will. Let’s——Thar’s just one
thing agin it, though, Luce,’ he broke off dismally.
‘What’s that?’ demanded Lucius, who had already removed his belts and
taken off his coat. ‘What’s against it?’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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