The Soldier Boy; or, Tom Somers in the Army: A Story of the Great RebellionOptic, Oliver
History
The Soldier Boy; or, Tom Somers in the Army: A Story of the Great Rebellion
Optic, Oliver
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
But then came up the most perplexing question he had yet been called upon
to decide. To that railroad, as to all others, there were, unfortunately,
two ends--one of which lay within the Federal lines, and the other within
the rebel lines. If Tom had been an astronomer, which he was not, the
night was too cloudy to enable him to consult the stars; besides, some
railroads are so abominably crooked that the heavenly orbs would hardly
have been safe pilots. He did not know which was north, nor which was
south, and to go the wrong way would be to jump out of the frying pan into
the fire.
Tom sat down by the side of the road, and tried to settle the difficult
question; but the more he thought, the more perplexed he became--which
shows the folly of attempting to reason when there are no premises to
reason from. He was, no doubt, an excellent logician; but bricks cannot be
made without straw.
"Which way shall I go?" said Tom to himself, as he stood up and peered
first one way and then the other through the gloom of the night.
But he could not see Washington in one direction, nor Richmond in the
other, and he had not a single landmark to guide him in coming to a
decision.
"I'll toss up!" exclaimed he, desperately, as he took off his cap and
threw it up into the air. "Right side up, this way--wrong side, that way;
and may the fates or the angels turn it in the proper way."
He stooped down to pick up the cap, and ascertain which way it had come
down. It came down right side up, and Tom immediately started off in the
direction indicated. Although he had no confidence in the arbitrament of
the cap, he felt relieved to find the question disposed of even in this
doubtful manner.
He kept both eyes wide open as he advanced, for if he had taken the wrong
way a few miles of travel would bring him to the main camp of the rebels
in the vicinity of Manassas Junction. He pursued his lonely journey for
some time without impediment, and without discovering any camp, either
large or small. He gathered new confidence as he proceeded. After he had
walked two or three hours upon the railroad, he thought it was about time
for Fairfax station to heave in sight, if he had chosen the right way--or
for the rebel camps to appear if he had chosen the wrong way. With the
first place he was familiar, as his regiment had encamped a short distance
from it.
He was sorely perplexed by the non-appearance of either of these expected
points. The country began to look wilder and less familiar as he
proceeded. The region before him looked rugged and mountainous, and the
dark outlines of several lofty peaks touched the sky in front of him. But
with the feeling that every step he advanced placed a wider space between
him and his captors at Sudley church, he continued on his way till the
gray streaks of daylight appeared behind him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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