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Updated: May 2, 2025
When we saw Thunder Knob again, Happy Valley was far below us, and only the thin spire of smoke drifting through the pines marked the Shadrack clearing. I kissed my hand in farewell salute to it. Perhaps John's widow saw me she sees so much in her dreams. "There's no place like Black Log," said Tip, as we turned the crest of Thunder Knob.
He decided to leave the response to Wilson, who, because of his age and experience, was the natural leader. But, before Wilson could speak, Shadrack replied: "We're from Fleming County, Kentucky, and we're going through the lines to join the Confederate army." Wilson frowned and shook his head at Shadrack. "So?" asked the farmer. "Goin' to fight the Yanks, eh?"
Wilson and Shadrack had stolen a ferryboat and crossed the Tennessee River at night, Brown and Dorsey had shared their food with two Confederate sentries who had stopped them as they crossed the railroad bridge at Stevenson. "Most sociable sentries I ever found," said Dorsey. "They believed our story, and told us all about Bull Run.
"And we're going about one mile an hour," replied Shadrack, slipping in the mud. It was nearly noon when they heard the sound of horses galloping along the road toward them. They jumped into the bushes and waited breathlessly. A few seconds later, four horsemen, each of them carrying a rifle over his arm, went riding past. "They're after us," said Wilson. Tom nodded.
Tom glanced back, and his eyes met Wilson's. There was a flash of understanding between them; then Wilson turned to look at Shadrack, as though cautioning silence. No one spoke as they picked their way along through the ooze of mud in the direction of the main road.
For a moment the men were silent; then came a sharp "Ah!" The long winter campaign was ended; now for action! "We will start at once," said Andrews. A crash of thunder drowned his words. "From Marietta onwards we will fight it out together." He began to distribute money to them. Several groups disappeared into the night. "Shall we go together?" asked a man at Tom's right. "My name's Shadrack."
Wilson and Shadrack were beside him, and the farmer was sitting on the edge of his bed. They put their hands up all except the farmer. The bluish flame of a sulphur match sputtered, then grew bright. Three Union soldiers stood before them with drawn revolvers, while a fourth lighted the lamp. "These are the men, I presume, Smith?" asked the Sergeant. The farmer grunted.
So, little by little, John Shadrack's widow grew on me, till I saw her a square little old woman, with a wrinkled, brown face, a perpetual smile and a pipe that snuffled in a homely, comfortable way. I smiled. You couldn't help smiling when Mrs. John Shadrack looked down at you. "It's been such a treat to have you," she cried. "I've been enjoyin' every minute of your visit." This was puzzling.
"All right, get on your boots. You did a good night's work, Smith." "I told 'em they'd better go back home," said the farmer dully. Tom, Wilson, and Shadrack sat on the floor pulling on their heavy, water-laden boots. When they stood up, the Sergeant said: "Call Jim and Max." Two more soldiers appeared, making six in all. "Two of us to a prisoner. Come on." They left the shanty.
Now, for the first time, the three adventurers had an opportunity of seeing each other. Tom, as he took off his cape and water-soaked coat, glanced first at Wilson, then at Shadrack. Wilson was a tall man, nearly forty, with a serious face. His mouth was stern, and he had sharp gray eyes. Shadrack was short and plump.
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