A Yankee Girl at Shiloh

								

“Girls should not be running wild in boys’ clothes,” as had sometimes
been said to her. “I can run faster than Len Bragg, who is sixteen
years old.”
“Where does Len Bragg live?” questioned the man.
“Oh! He’s in the war! He’s with General Johnston’s army,” replied
Berry promptly.
“That’s right!” declared the man approvingly. “There’s not a finer man
in the Confederate army than Albert Sidney Johnston.”
Berry had heard her own father praise General Johnston’s character, so
she was not surprised, and replied politely, “Yes, sir.”
“I’m bound for Corinth myself,” continued the man. “I’ve journeyed
across country from Fort Donelson, and I reckon I shan’t stop long at
Corinth; like as not I may come back this way, long in the spring,”
and the man smiled to himself as if well pleased with such a prospect.
“If I do, Berry, maybe I’ll want you to let me see if you can run as
fast as you say. Maybe I’ll want you to take a message to Pittsburg
Landing in a hurry for me.” And the man’s eyes rested sharply upon
Berry.
Before Berry could reply the man spoke again, and in a sharper tone
than he had yet used.
“And see here, my lad! Don’t you let on to a living soul about
having met me. Understand?” and his hand touched the sheath of his
hunting-knife in a threatening manner. But Berry did not wait to
answer; she was off like a flash, not keeping to the path, but darting
behind big trees, circling around underbrush and at last hiding behind
a tall stump. She heard the man crashing along behind her, but Berry’s
boast of being a swift runner was well proved; the woodsman could not
overtake her. Berry smiled to herself as she heard him floundering
about through the thickets. She was not at all afraid of being
caught, for she knew all the forest ways, and many a hiding-place.
She kept very quiet, however, and did not venture out from behind the
stump until a hovering flock of nuthatches, who had been scolding
vigorously at being disturbed, settled down in a near-by thicket.
“He’s gone,” she whispered, and stepped cautiously out; “he didn’t
come this way or the nuthatches would not have stopped flying.”
Berry peered sharply about, however, as she made her way noiselessly
from tree to tree, stopping often to listen for any sound that might
mean she was being followed, but, except for the far-off call of
woodland birds, the forest was quiet. Berry was sure the man had given
up trying to find her, and hastened down the ridge to the Braggs’
cabin. She said nothing of her adventure to the Braggs, but told of
her father’s plan for morning lessons. “Mollie may come every day, may
she not?” she pleaded; “and Mother wants her to stay for dinners.”
Mrs. Bragg’s anxious face had brightened as Berry spoke of lessons,
and she answered quickly, “I reckon prayers are answered, fer I’ve