General Nelson's Scout

by Byron A. Dunn

"Who is that man?" asked Fred of an officer standing by him.

"That, young man," was the answer, "is General Grant. He must be awfully cut up, but he does not show it."

Fred turned and looked after Grant as he rode slowly away. "There," thought Fred, "is a man who is going to make his mark in this war. In some of his actions he reminds me of General Thomas. Nothing seems to excite him."

Night and darkness came. On the frozen ground, without tents or fire, the soldiers once more made their beds. The wind sighed and moaned through the bare branches, as if weeping at the suffering it caused. Many, to keep from freezing, never lay down, but kept up a weary march, so that the blood might circulate. The long hours dragged slowly along.

Over in the Confederate lines all was activity. A council of war was held, and it was resolved that in the morning they would cut their way through the lines of steel which Grant had thrown around them. All preparations were made, every order given, and then they waited for the light of morning—the last morning that hundreds would ever see.

It was hardly light when Fred was awakened by the fitful sound of musketry over on the right. In front of Wallace's division only the report of a rifle of a picket was heard now and then. Hurriedly eating a little breakfast, he mounted his horse and reported to General Cruft for duty. The men were all standing at arms, but there was nothing for them to do. But over on the right the rattle of musketry grew more intense, the roll of heavy volleys began to be heard, and then the deep-voiced cannon joined in the chorus. Louder and louder grew the din of the conflict. The smoke of battle began to ascend above the treetops like smoke from a burning coal-pit. The sound of battle came nearer, the roll of musketry was incessant, the thunder of cannon never ceased.

An officer wild with excitement came spurring his foaming horse up to General Wallace.

"General McClernand wants help," he gasped. "The whole Rebel army has attacked his division."

"I have orders from General Grant to hold this position at all hazards," replied Wallace. "I must have orders from him."

To Grant's headquarters the officer rides in frantic haste. The general was away; he had started at five o'clock to see Commodore Foote, who had been wounded in the battle of the night before, and was on board of one of his gunboats, and the boats lay some five or six miles below.