IN the summer of 1864 when Grant was pounding away in the wilderness, and Sherman was on his victorious march to the sea, and the fate of the confederacy seemed sealed, Halsey received a letter from Eaton Manor that filled him with sorrow.
It was from his cousin Margaret, and informed him that Aunt Julia had died the month before. The letter also said that Uncle Hillery had been invalided home and was seriously ill. He wanted to see his nephew once more. Could Halsey secure a short furlough and come home? This might be Uncle Hillery's last request.
Halsey at once sought his Colonel and showed him the letter. As all the Union Armies at this time outnumbered the Confederates opposing them, it was an easy matter to secure the furlough. So within the hour Halsey and Palo'mine were on the way home.
They had been operating with General Thompson in the eastern part of Tennessee, so it was only a matter of two or three hundred miles, as the crow flies, to Eaton Manor.
The greater portion of Tennessee and Kentucky were at this time nearly free from Confederate soldiers. Only an occasional raiding or foraging party were seen. Peggy had written that a band of Confederate Guerrillas had been active in the Kentucky mountains for several weeks, although the Guerrillas rarely appeared in the Blue Grass country.
Halsey arrived in sight of Eaton Manor at about nine o'clock in the evening. He noted from afar that there was only one light in the house, in the upper chamber. The place seemed very quiet and forsaken, and there was something about it that Halsey did not like. So, he adopted his soldier's policy of precaution.
He jumped Palo'mine over the limestone wall into the orchard and hitched him to a small fruit tree, while he approached Eaton Manor from the rear. At the back of the house there was a small clump of cedars and the path from the house to the orchard led directly through it. But Halsey had threaded this path in total darkness many a time in boyhood days and he knew its every step. Midway in the cedars, the path wound between two trees that set close together, and as Halsey squeezed through this natural gateway a strong hand clutched him from either side, and almost before he knew what was happening, he had been pinned to one of the trees by two men, in whose hands he struggled vainly. He had no chance to draw his revolver and to cry out was useless* and foolish. Finally his hands were tied behind his back and he was led around in front of the house.
"What am I, a prisoner of war?" asked Halsey when he had recovered his breath and his senses after the struggle.
The two men laughed and their laughter had a sinister sound to Halsey. "We don't know nothing about prisoners of war, I reckon," said one of the men in the familiar mountaineer drawl. "But you are our prisoner, young fellow."
"That is all right," returned Halsey. "I have been taken prisoner before. What are you going to do with me."
"Well," said the other mountaineer, "you won't ever be taken prisoner again. We are going to string you up, young fellow, to this here limb overhead, right here in front of your Uncle's house. You've made the Confederacy trouble enough. I reckon me and Bill will be in for promotion when we have finished this job."
"You can't hang me, I am not a spy. I have on my regulation uniform."
"We can't, can't we? We'll see. I reckon you'll think different in about two minutes."
"I demand my right to be tried by court martial," insisted Halsey, seeing that his plight was desperate.
"You can keep right on demanding, young fellow, and that's all the good it will do you. We'll hang you first and then talk about it after."
Vainly Halsey insisted that he had not been a spy and that he had his uniform on and that he should be tried by court martial. His two captors only laughed at him while their preparations for stringing him up went steadily forward. One of them returned to the cedars and brought back a twenty-foot rope which he threw over the limb of the old ash, the same limb that Halsey's swing had been tied to when he was a boy. Was he about to swing on this familiar limb for the last time?
He thought of calling for help but that seemed childish. He was a soldier and he would die like one if he had to. The man named Bill caught the loose end of the rope which had been thrown over the limb and was about to pull on it with all his weight, when something happened which was not on the program. There were two quick shots, so close together that they gave but one echo. The hand on the rope dropped helpless by the man's side, while his companion clutched at his own shoulder, groaning and cursing.
In less time that it takes to tell it, the cowardly ruffians had taken to their heels and Halsey was alone under the old ash. Then the front door at Eaton Manor opened quietly and Peggy Moore came cautiously out, still holding in her hand a smoking revolver.
"The dirty cowards," she cried indignately. "No real Confederate soldier would do a thing like that. They are Buck Dugan's guerrillas, and unworthy of the name of soldier. There is a leak in the post office. They must have known about my letter."
"Peggy, you brave girl, you trump, did you fire those shots? Did you do that brave thing for old glory?"
"The scoundrels, I wish I had killed them," cried Peggy excitedly, ignoring his question.
"Listen," cried Halsey. "I hear horsemen up the turnpike. There must be a dozen of them. They are coming back with their comrades. Did you fire those shots for old glory, Peggy you little rebel?"
"No," cried Peggy excitedly, "You must go, they will be here in a minute."
"I will not stir a step until you tell me why you did that brave thing for me."
Then the girl looked straight up into his face proudly and defiantly, and her eyes were like stars. "I love you, Halsey," she said simply, "that was why I did it. It was not for old glory. Now run for your life."
He caught her in his arms and gave her a bear hug and a passionate kiss, then set her down gently.
"But, Uncle Hillery," cried Halsey, "I shall not be able to see him."
"It is too late," returned Peggy with a sob. "He died an hour ago."
All this time, down in the turnpike the thunder of horses hoofs grew nearer, so Halsey took Peggy's advice and ran for his life, while she hurried inside and bolted the heavy front door. Twenty seconds later she heard Palo'mine jump the orchard wall and gallop down the turnpike like the wind.
As the guerrillas came abreast of the house and espied Halsey and Palo'mine down in the turnpike their carbines began to crack and they gave vent to the rebel yell which Peggy thought the most blood curdling sound she had ever heard. Although the war had taken Halsey and Uncle Hillery away from Eaton Manor, yet hitherto it had seemed afar off. But, here it was now, thundering at the very gates of Eaton Manor. As the full significance of the dramatic scene outside came home to Peggy the icy hand of fear clutched her heart, for she realized that these lawless men would hunt Halsey down and kill him, just as relentlessly as the hounds had the fox in the days of old.
There was but one recourse for the panic stricken girl in this hour of horror, so she threw herself upon her knees and leaning her head on Uncle Hillery's great arm chair, prayed as she had never prayed before.
"O God of battle," she sobbed, "thou who dost love the righteous and hate the wicked, be with my soldier tonight. In the days of old, thou didst put stumbling blocks in the way of evil doers, so, O God, cause their horses to stumble and their shots to go wild. Cover Halsey with protecting darkness and blind their eyes with a terrible light. Give the wings of the wind to Palo'mine and the heart of a lion to his rider. Hide him in thy pavilion, O God, and shield him from his enemies."
Feverishly did she pray, while the terrible minutes went by. But at last, a great sense of peace came to her and she felt sure that her prayer had been answered. As she arose from her knees, she heard the sound of hoof beats down the turnpike from the direction the guerrillas had taken a half an hour before. They were coming back, but much more slowly than they had gone.
Then another great fear clutched the heart of the distraught girl. They would stop at Eaton Manor and demand to know who had fired the shots. What would she tell them? Again she turned to God. He would have to tell her what to say as he had Moses of old.
When the guerrillas reached the house two of their number dismounted and began beating on the front door, and calling loudly to be admitted. Peggy's first thought was to ignore them, but they were so persistent that she finally threw open the door and faced them defiantly.
"Sir, this is Colonel Hillery Eaton's house. He was an officer in the Confederate Army and he now lies dead in his chamber upstairs. Why do you come here in this manner, disturbing the house where death has entered?"
"Wal, I beg your pardon Miss, we didn't know the Colonel was dead. But I want to know who that young fellow was that my men nabbed here behind your house."
"That was my cousin, Major Halsey Eaton, of the Buckeye Raiders," said Peggy defiantly.
"Wal, we reckoned it was. Did you hear them shots that was fired at my men?"
"Yes," returned Peggy.
"Wal, from what direction did they come, Miss?"
"It would be hard to say, sir, there are so many echoes," replied the girl.
"Did you see the flash?"
"No, sir," said Peggy.
"You couldn't tell who fired them shots, could you Miss?"
"No, I couldn't," said Peggy truthfully. "Did you get Major Eaton?" She asked this question with her heart in her mouth. At the inquiry the guerrilla broke into a loud guffaw, in which his comrades joined sheepishly.
"Wal, I should rather say not, Miss. Why that 'ere hoss your cousin rode is just a streak of greased lightning. He ran right out of sight and sound of us in about fifteen minutes. He must be over in West Virginy by this time ef that is where he is agoing."
Peggy dared risk no further questioning so she said frigidly, "My uncle has just died and there are many things I must do for him, so, good night."
"Good night, Miss," said the guerrilla sheepishly. "I'm mighty sorry." And they mounted their horses and rode away, while Peggy went up stairs to her silent vigil with all that remained of Uncle Hillery, the man who had been the only father that she and Halsey had ever known.