A Yankee Girl at Shiloh

								

each day.
“All right,” Berry called back, as she ran down the path, turning to
wave her hand before the thick growing forest trees hid her from sight.
Berry’s way led through the forest, across a wide brook that went
dancing down over its rocky bed toward the river, and then the path
turned into the highway near which was the rough clearing surrounding
the Braggs’ cabin. A tiny gray bird called “Chick-a-dee-dee-dee,” as
if to greet the red-capped little figure that ran so swiftly along the
rough path. Further on she heard the cheerful whistle of the cardinal,
and stopped for a moment to look up into the wide-spreading branches
of the big trees that towered above her, hoping for a glimpse of the
red-coated songster, but he was not to be seen.
The crossing of the wide brook meant stepping carefully from stone to
stone until the middle of the stream was reached, where a broad flat
rock gave a firm foothold, and from which Berry was accustomed to
jump to the opposite bank. She made the passage skilfully, springing
over the rushing water and landing on firm ground with the lightness
and sure footing of an active boy; before she had taken a further
step, however, a chuckling voice close at hand called: “Well done,
youngster! It takes a Tennessee lad to jump,” and Berry found herself
facing a tall man whose face was nearly covered by a brown beard, and
whose brown eyes twinkled with amusement at her surprise. He wore a
round, close-fitting cap of coonskin, a leather jacket, with stout
trousers of corduroy and high boots. A hunter’s belt held a revolver
and hunting-knife, and a knapsack was strapped across his shoulders.
It was seldom that Berry encountered anyone in her forest tramps, but
she had been taught to believe in the friendliness of the mountain
people, and smiled and nodded in response to the man’s greeting.
“I can jump farther than that,” she boasted. “I can jump farther than
most boys of my age.”
The man nodded approvingly. “Well, you ain’t so stocky as some,” he
said thoughtfully. “Guess your ma kind of likes to dress you up, don’t
she, sonny?” he continued, with an amused glance at Berry’s red silk
tie and scarlet wool cap.
Berry nodded. If this stranger mistook her for a boy she did not mean
to undeceive him.
“Well,” continued the man, “you can’t help that, my lad. What’s your
name?”
“Berry,” responded the little girl.
“Berry what?” he continued.
“Berenice,” said Berry, thinking that now the stranger had discovered
her secret, and that he would at once tell her that the place for
little girls was at home, helping their mother, as Mr. Bragg so often
announced.
But the man evidently had not understood her. “‘Nees,’ eh! Berry Nees.
Well, you mountain folks have queer names. But I’m glad to make your
acquaintance. I reckon you can run considerable as well as jump?”
“Yes,” Berry replied quickly, well pleased that she need not hear that