The Young Sharpshooter at AntietamTomlinson, Everett T. (Everett Titsworth)
History
The Young Sharpshooter at Antietam
Tomlinson, Everett T. (Everett Titsworth)
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
As the hours passed and the fierceness of the storm increased, and the
sound of the pelting raindrops was heard as they struck the sides of the
building, the monotony of it all served as an inducement for sleep. It
was not long before the sounds which came from their fellow prisoners
convinced both the young soldiers that the men were sleeping soundly.
The guard in the hallway was plainly within sight seated in a chair
which was tipped back against the wall. A lighted candle was shining in
each end of the hall, and though the light was dim every movement of a
person near by could be plainly seen.
Fortunately the light of the candles did not fall directly upon the
ceiling in the room where the prisoners were confined.
"It must be eliven o'clock," whispered Dennis. "Don't you think so,
Noel?"
"Yes."
"It's time for us to begin."
"Yes," again assented Noel.
"Kape still now, while I take off me shoes again. You'd better take
yours off, too."
"We'll want them if we ever get out of this place," suggested Noel.
"That's right. Shure we will. You'll have to pass them up to me after I
have climbed into the loft."
Noel made no further protests, and Dennis at once prepared to carry out
the plan which he had so carefully devised.
Silently both young soldiers removed their shoes, and then, without
delaying a moment, as soon as Noel had braced himself against the side
of the wall, Dennis clambered to his shoulders and then waited a brief
instant to discover whether or not the guard was aware of any unusual
activities among his prisoners.
The silence was unbroken, and Dennis, as soon as he was convinced that
the suspicions of their guard had not been aroused, slowly and
cautiously began to slide back the opening into the loft.
More time was consumed in this endeavor than either of the boys had
expected. Several times the door seemed to stick in its place, and only
by the utmost care was the young Irishman able to push it past the
obstacle without making any noise. At last, however, his effort was
crowned with success and a narrow opening above him was cleared.
To Noel, who was upholding his burden, the efforts of his friend
appeared to be unduly prolonged. It seemed to him that he could not
longer maintain his position and that he must let Dennis fall to the
floor.
Aware, however, that such an action on his part would certainly arouse
the guard, he braced himself once more and did his utmost to stand
steadily in his place.
His relief was great when Dennis, firmly grasping with a hand each side
of the floor above him, quickly raised himself and crawled into the
loft. Noel instantly stooped and taking the heavy shoes held them
toward the ceiling.
In the darkness it was with difficulty that Dennis at last was able to
see and seize them, and then, as soon as he had placed them carefully on
the floor of the loft, he reached down to grasp the uplifted hands of
Noel.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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