The Little Regiment, and Other Episodes of the American Civil WarCrane, Stephen
History
The Little Regiment, and Other Episodes of the American Civil War
Crane, Stephen
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; War stories, American
"Say, they didn't stand that rush a minute, did they?" said the
subaltern. Both officers were profoundly dusty in their uniforms, and
their faces were soiled like those of two urchins.
Out in the grass behind them were three tumbled and silent forms.
Presently the line moved forward again. The men went from tree to tree
like hunters stalking game. Some at the left of the line fired
occasionally, and those at the right gazed curiously in that direction.
The men still breathed heavily from their scramble across the field.
Of a sudden a trooper halted and said: "Hello! there's a house!" Every
one paused. The men turned to look at their leader.
The captain stretched his neck and swung his head from side to side. "By
George, it is a house!" he said.
Through the wealth of leaves there vaguely loomed the form of a large,
white house. These troopers, brown-faced from many days of campaigning,
each feature of them telling of their placid confidence and courage,
were stopped abruptly by the appearance of this house. There was some
subtle suggestion--some tale of an unknown thing--which watched them
from they knew not what part of it.
A rail fence girded a wide lawn of tangled grass. Seven pines stood
along a drive-way which led from two distant posts of a vanished gate.
The blue-clothed troopers moved forward until they stood at the fence
peering over it.
The captain put one hand on the top rail and seemed to be about to climb
the fence, when suddenly he hesitated, and said in a low voice, "Watson,
what do you think of it?"
The lieutenant stared at the house. "Derned if I know!" he replied.
The captain pondered. It happened that the whole company had turned a
gaze of profound awe and doubt upon this edifice which confronted them.
The men were very silent.
At last the captain swore and said: "We are certainly a pack of fools.
Derned old deserted house halting a company of Union cavalry, and making
us gape like babies!"
"Yes, but there's something--something----" insisted the subaltern in a
half stammer.
"Well, if there's 'something--something' in there, I'll get it out,"
said the captain. "Send Sharpe clean around to the other side with about
twelve men, so we will sure bag your 'something--something,' and I'll
take a few of the boys and find out what's in the d----d old thing!"
He chose the nearest eight men for his "storming party," as the
lieutenant called it. After he had waited some minutes for the others to
get into position, he said "Come ahead" to his eight men, and climbed
the fence.
The brighter light of the tangled lawn made him suddenly feel
tremendously apparent, and he wondered if there could be some mystic
thing in the house which was regarding this approach. His men trudged
silently at his back. They stared at the windows and lost themselves in
deep speculations as to the probability of there being, perhaps, eyes
behind the blinds--malignant eyes, piercing eyes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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