A Yankee Girl at Shiloh

by Alice Turner Curtis

“He luk jes’ lak de men dat hunt af’er de run’way niggers!” she insisted, and so Berry again agreed not to tell her father of her discovery of the camping spy.

Orson knew of the Arnolds’ cabin, but kept a good distance from it, although he believed it the cabin of some industrious mountaineer who was, without doubt, loyal to the Confederacy. He had seen Lily and Berry more than once, unseen by them, and supposed Lily to be a negro boy, owned by the Arnolds. He meant, at the right moment, to send “Berry Nees” speeding over the road to Corinth with news for General Beauregard. He kept a nightly watch by the “witch-tree” to see if Berry had brought the sweets that would mean a midnight visit, and, on the second evening after the Arnolds’ visit to the maple grove, his watch was rewarded: for close against the trees rested a number of small packages.

Orson had no scruples in examining these. One contained a glass tumbler filled with honey, over which the spy chuckled, thinking it would be an acceptable addition to his somewhat limited food supply. In another package was a square of maple-sugar, made from the fresh syrup. There was also a small square cake, sweetened with maple-sugar, that Berry had persuaded her mother to make for her that morning. For Berry had noticed that the red-buds were beginning to fade, the leaves rapidly covering such blossoms as remained, and, by cautiously questioning Lily, she discovered that unless the tree were in bloom the witches were not apt to visit them, and she realized she must lose no time in asking their help for news of Mollie.

Berry found no trouble in carrying her gifts to the red-buds near the stream, for that afternoon Lily had gone with Mrs. Arnold to bring home the syrup that Mr. Arnold had made, leaving Berry alone in the cabin. And she collected her supplies and hastened off to leave them at the red-buds, in order that the witches might not fail to find them on their arrival, and she was resolved to be on hand when the witches appeared at midnight, although she was a little fearful that it might not be an easy matter to keep awake until the time came to leave the cabin, or to creep out without being discovered by her mother or father. Nevertheless she was resolved to make the attempt, for it seemed to Berry as if she could get news from Mollie in no other way than through the friendly help of witches, who were new possibilities in Berry’s experience.

The sky clouded over before Mrs. Arnold and Lily returned, and by sunset a strong wind was sweeping along the ridge.

“Dis am a reg’lar witch’s night! I ’clar ter goodness if ’tain’t!” said Lily, as Berry helped her wash the supper dishes. “De win’ am a-shreekin’ an’ a-hollerin’ jes’ de way witches lik’s,” continued Lily; “dey’ll all be out ter-night, I specs,” and she rolled her eyes solemnly and shook her head.

Berry made no response. She heard the wind moaning and shrieking, as the big branches of the forest trees bent before it, and began to dread the undertaking that was before her. She was so quiet in the early evening that her mother was sure Berry must be more tired than usual, and suggested that the little girl go to bed. Lily had already gone to her room, and Mrs. Arnold declared that she herself was too sleepy to sit up, and at an unusually early hour the lights in the little cabin were extinguished, and the entire household, excepting Berry, were fast asleep.

In her own room, still fully dressed, Berry sat on the edge of her bed waiting for the clock to strike eleven, the time she had set to leave the cabin. More than once she dozed off, to wake with a sudden start fearful lest she had overslept. But when the clock in the sitting-room sounded the hour of eleven Berry was wide awake. Her window, that opened outward on hinges, was already partly open, and Berry’s moccasin-covered feet made no noise as she crossed the room, cautiously swung the latticed window wide open and fastened it back, and then, reaching out, grasped the strong branch of the big oak tree, that grew close to the cabin, and fearlessly swung herself clear of the window-sill.

Berry had done this many times; it was no new exploit for the little girl to scramble along the stout branch and down the trunk of the oak tree to a secure footing on the slope of the ravine below her window; she stood silent a moment, looking up at the cabin. Then, sure that no one had heard her quiet escape, she crept up to the trail and was off toward the witches’ tree.

The wind swept against her, and the trees of the forest creaked and swayed: the night was too dark even for shadows, and Berry, with a little thrill of fear, recalled Lily’s words that it “was a reg’lar witch’s night.”