one with a paper in his hand, approached the fire beside which the officers
sat still engaged.
"What is it, Harris?" said the Colonel to the man with the paper, who bore
remnants of the chevrons of a
sergeant on his stained and faded jacket.
"If you please, sir," he said, with a
salute, "we have been talking it over,
and we'd like this paper to go in along with that you're
writing."
He held it out to the
lieutenant, who was the nearer and had reached forward
to take it. "We s'pose you're agoin' to bury it with the guns," he said,
hesitatingly, as he handed it over.
"What is it?" asked the Colonel, shading his eyes with his hands.
"It's just a little list we made out in and among us," he said,
"with a few things we'd like to put in, so's if anyone ever hauls 'em out
they'll find it there to tell what the old
battery was, and if they don't,
it'll be in one of 'em down thar 'til judgment, an' it'll sort of ease
our minds a bit." He stopped and waited as a man who had delivered
his message. The old Colonel had risen and taken the paper,
and now held it with a firm grasp, as if it might blow away
with the rising wind. He did not say a word, but his hand shook a little
as he proceeded to fold it carefully, and there was a burning gleam
in his deep-set eyes, back under his bushy, gray brows.
"Will you sort of look over it, sir, if you think it's worth while?
We was in a sort of hurry and we had to put it down just as we come to it;
we didn't have time to pick our
ammunition; and it ain't written the best
in the world, nohow." He waited again, and the Colonel opened the paper
and glanced down at it
mechanically. It contained first a roster,
headed by the list of six guns, named by name: "Matthew", "Mark", "Luke",
and "John", "The Eagle", and "The Cat"; then of the men,
beginning with
the heading:
"Those killed".
Then had followed "Those wounded", but this was marked out.
Then came a roster of the company when it first entered service;
then of those who had joined afterward; then of those who were present now.
At the end of all there was this statement, not very well written,
nor
whollyaccurately spelt:
"To Whom it may Concern: We, the above members of the old
battery known,
etc., of six guns, named, etc., commanded by the said Col. etc.,
left on the 11th day of April, 1865, have made out this roll of the
battery,
them as is gone and them as is left, to bury with the guns which the same
we bury this night. We're all volunteers, every man; we joined the army
at the
beginning of the war, and we've stuck through to the end;
sometimes we aint had much to eat, and sometimes we aint had nothin',
but we've fought the best we could 119 battles and skirmishes
as near as we can make out in four years, and never lost a gun.
Now we're agoin' home. We aint
surrendered; just
disbanded,
and we pledges ourselves to teach our children to love the South
and General Lee; and to come when we're called anywheres an' anytime,
so help us God."
There was a dead silence
whilst the Colonel read.
"'Taint entirely accurite, sir, in one particular," said the
sergeant,
apologetically; "but we thought it would be playin' it sort o' low down
on the Cat if we was to say we lost her unless we could tell about
gittin' of her back, and the way she done since, and we didn't have time
to do all that." He looked around as if to receive the corroboration
of the other men, which they signified by nods and shuffling.
The Colonel said it was all right, and the paper should go into the guns.
"If you please, sir, the guns are all loaded," said the
sergeant;
"in and about our last
charge, too; and we'd like to fire 'em off once more,
jist for old times' sake to remember 'em by, if you don't think no harm
could come of it?"
The Colonel reflected a moment and said it might be done;
they might fire each gun
separately as they rolled it over,
or might get all ready and fire together, and then roll them over,
whichever they wished. This was satisfactory.
The men were then ordered to prepare to march immediately, and
withdrew for
the purpose. The pickets were called in. In a short time they were ready,
horses and all, just as they would have been to march ordinarily,
except that the wagons and caissons were packed over in one corner by the camp
with the
harness hung on poles beside them, and the guns stood
in their old places at the breastwork ready to defend the pass.
The embers of the sinking camp-fires threw a faint light on them
standing so still and silent. The old Colonel took his place,
and at a command from him in a somewhat low voice, the men, except a detail
left to hold the horses, moved into company-front facing the guns.
Not a word was
spoken, except the words of command. At the order
each
detachment went to its gun; the guns were run back and the men
with their own hands ran them up on the edge of the
perpendicular bluff