The Tree of AppomattoxAltsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
History
The Tree of Appomattox
Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
"Thank you for calling my attention to it, Mr. Reed. I can't afford to
have the troops soaked by winter rains. Not knowing what we had to
expect in the mountains I fortunately ordered about twenty of my own
men to bring axes at their saddlebows. We'll put 'em all at work."
In a few minutes thirty good axmen were cutting down trees, saplings
and bushes, and more than a hundred others were strengthening the
lean-tos, thatching roofs, and making rude but serviceable floors.
Dick, owing to his slight wound, but much against his wish, was ordered
into the house, where he spread his blankets near a window, although he
could not yet sleep, all the heat of the battle and pursuit not yet
having left him. His nerves still tingling with excitement, he stood at
the window and looked out.
He saw the great fire blazing and many persons passing and repassing
before the red glow. He saw the captives crouching together, and the
red gleam on the bayonets of the men who guarded them. He saw Warner
and Pendleton go into one of the lean-tos, and he saw Colonel
Winchester, accompanied by Shepard and the sergeant, go down the valley
toward the exit.
After a while the prisoners moved to the lean-tos, and then everybody
took shelter. The crackle of the big fires changed to a hiss, and more
smoke arose from them. The reason was obvious. The big flakes of snow
had ceased to fall, and big drops of rain were falling in their place.
Reed had been a true prophet, and he had not given his warning too soon.
The rain increased. Dick heard it driving on the window panes and
beating on the roof. All the fires in the valley were out now, and
rising mists and vapors hid nearly everything. The faint, sliding
sound of more snow-falls precipitated by the rain came to his ears. He
realized suddenly how fine a thing it was to be inside four walls, and
with it came a great feeling of comfort. It was the same feeling that
he had known often in childhood, when he lay in his bed and heard the
storm beat against the house.
There were others in the room--the floor was almost covered with
them--but all of them were asleep already, and Dick, wrapping himself
in his blanket, joined them, the last thing that he remembered being
the swish of the rain against the glass. He slept heavily and was not
awakened until nearly noon, when he saw through the window a world
entirely changed. The rain had melted only a portion of the snow, and
when it ceased after sunrise the day had turned much colder, freezing
every thing hard and tight. The surface of valley, slopes and ridges
was covered with a thick armor of ice, smooth as glass, and giving back
the rays of a brilliant sun in colors as vivid and varied as those of a
rainbow. Every tree and bush, to the last little twig, was sheathed
also in silver, and along the slopes the forests of dwarfed cedar and
pines were a vast field of delicate and complex tracery.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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