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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Take this, too," said Fortner, handing her a finely-finished revolver, of rather large caliber. "Don't pull hit onless ye can't git along without hit, an' then make sho o' yer man. Salt him." "Good-by God bless ye," said Aunt Debby, taking Rachel to her heart in a passionate embrace, and kissing her repeatedly. "God bless ye agin.
"Well, ye kin take up yer guns agin and load 'em," said Fortner, letting down the hammer of his rifle. "I'm Jim Fortner, supposed ter be the pizenest Union man on the Rockassel! Come along ter my house, an I'll gin ye a good meal o' vittels. Hit's on'y a little piece off, an' I've got thar one of yer fellers. His name's Harry Glen.
They did start early the next morning, with Aunt Debby riding upon the roads that wound around the mountain sides, while Fortner led the men through the shorter by-paths. Noon had passed some hours, and yet they had come across no signs of wagons. Aunt Debby was riding along a road cut out of the rocks about mid-way up the mountain.
She tried, but in vain, to realize that in a few days these thoughtless youths would be the demons of the battle-field. Just before dusk she came to the top of a low limestone ridge, and saw, three miles away, the lights of Murfreesboro. At that moment Fortner appeared, jogging leisurely toward her, mounted on a splendid horse.
Every hair of his head stood stiffly up in mortal terror when a huge catamount, screaming like a fiend, leaped down from a tree, and confronted them for an instant with hideously-gleaming yellow eyes. "Cuss-an'-burn the nasty varmint!" said Fortner angrily, snatching up a pine knot from his feet and flinging it at the beast, which vanished into the darkness with another curdling scream.
The instinct of the wolf or the panther seemed to lead Fortner by the shortest courses through the pathless woods to where he came unperceived close upon the flank of the mass of harassed fugitives. Then creeping behind a convenient tree with the supple lightness of the leopard crouching for a spring, he scanned with eager eyes the mounted officers within range.
The mounted men rode forward and joined those on foot, in raking the copse with charges of buckshot. Away above Fortner and Harry rose yells and the clatter of galloping horses. Before they could imagine what this meant a little cavalcade swept by at a mad gallop, yelling at the tops of their voices, and charging directly at the Rebels below.
"All o'er those wide, extended plains Shines one eternal day; Thar God, the Son, forever reigns, An scatters night away. "No chillin' winds or poisonous breath Kin reach thet healthful shore; Sickness an' sorrow, pain an' death, Are felt an' feared no more." After dark Fortner came in. Both women studied his face eagerly as he walked up to the fire.
"Ye make fur thet rock up thar," said Fortner to Harry, pointing to a spot several hundred yards above them, "and stay thar tell I come. Keep close in the shadder, so's they won't see ye." "It seems to me that I ought to stay with you, said Harry, indecisively. "No; go. Ye can't do no good heah. One's better nor two. I'll be up thar soon. Go, quick."
The hound sprang forward with a growl that was abruptly ended, for Fortner's left hand shot out like an arrow, and caught the loose folds of skin on the brute's neck, and the next instant his right, armed with the knife, descended and laid the animal's shoulder and neck open with a deep cut. But the darkness made Fortner mistake his distance.
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