The Last RebelAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Last Rebel
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
Prisoners -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Seeing nothing of him, he had fired his rifle twice, in the hope
of attracting his attention, and was returning to the hut, when he
caught a glimpse of me and believed by my actions that I was Colonel
Hetherill, and moreover that I was Colonel Hetherill still inflamed
against him. Then he had hidden behind the tree, hoping just what I had
hoped, and trying to do it.
"If it had been the colonel and he had got the first chance and fired
at you, what would you have done, doctor?" I asked.
"Colonel Hetherill saved my life twice, once at Stone River, and once
at Chickamauga," he replied; and I could get no more direct answer out
him.
The doctor looked as if he had been having a hard time; there was no
counterfeit about his joy at seeing me. His face was haggard, and
scales of ice were on his clothing. I told him about my meeting with
the colonel earlier in the evening, and it seemed to take some of the
hope out of him.
"The colonel has one idea fixed in his head," he said, "and I do not
think anything can drive it out."
I raised my voice and shouted for Crothers, and in a few moments his
answering cry came. His meeting with the doctor was, as that of two
veterans should be, joyful, but repressed.
We went back to the hut, where we found the army still asleep. But we
awoke two of the men, directing them to watch until daylight, while we
three lay down upon the floor and went to sleep.
Grace's pleasure when she saw the doctor in the morning sound and well
was great, though she said but little. I knew the relief it was to her.
But we began at once to organize the search for the last rebel. The
hut was to remain a base of operations for the present, and, despite
her protests, we insisted that Grace remain there at least that day.
I had some hope that the colonel, pressed by cold and hunger, might
return to the hut; but the doctor shattered this hope by saying that he
might find shelter and food elsewhere in the mountains.
"He was fond of hunting," said the doctor, "and it is more than likely
that in such a wilderness he provided one or more little camps besides
this for future use."
We divided into two parties. Crothers led one, and the doctor the
other. I went with the doctor. I waved my handkerchief as a sign of
good cheer to Grace, who stood in the doorway, and we were soon in the
mazes of the higher mountains. A good sun came out, and in an hour the
weather had turned warm enough to permit snow, but not warm enough to
melt the ice and sleet. The clouds soon gathered, obscuring the sun,
and for an hour we had a gentle snow which covered the ground a quarter
of an inch deep, but did not trouble us, as the morning was without
wind. It made our footing much less uncertain, and the doctor drew
further encouragement from it, as we might find the colonel's footsteps
if he should move about after the snow-fall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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