CHAPTER XIII
WITH THE REDCOATS
The fear in Tom Coward's heart, when he discovered that he was between the lines of the soldiers, made him almost desperate. The men before him already had raised their guns, and at any moment he expected to hear their report. When he had glanced behind him he had seen that the men there were also prepared to shoot, and he was in a position where he was likely to receive the discharges of both sides.
Along by the side of the road was a deep ditch, which had been worn by the spring floods. Just at present there was no water in it, and Tom instantly threw himself upon the ground, and, still grasping his gun, rolled toward the place. As he slipped over the side he heard the discharge of the guns, and his heart almost stood still in his terror. The bullets, however, had all gone over his head, and the lad was unharmed, although he was so frightened that even the thoughts of his own personal safety were almost driven from his mind.
Shouts and calls followed the discharge of the guns, and then there was a rush of men past the place in which he was lying. From the direction from which the men had come, Tom concluded that those who were behind him had fled, and that the others were in swift pursuit of them. He did not dare to raise his head, nor try to obtain a glimpse of the combatants, but lay still in his hiding-place, hoping that in the excitement his presence would not be discovered. The shouts continued, but as they sounded farther and farther away, the trembling lad concluded that pursuers and pursued must have turned the bend in the road. If they kept on, he would soon be able to crawl forth from the ditch, he thought, and in the woods would find some place in which he might remain until all the immediate danger had passed.
Still, he did not yet dare to leave his hiding-place, and, as the moments passed, his own fears and anxiety were not allayed. His face and hands were covered with the mud which had clung to them when he had slid into the ditch. The mosquitoes gathered about him, and, do what he would, he could not drive off the tormenting little pests. The sultriness which had followed the brief storm was almost unbearable, and Tom felt as if he could not have selected a worse place in which to conceal himself. There had not been much of any "selecting" about it, he grimly thought, for he had crawled into the first shelter that presented itself. A place in the muddy ditch was to be preferred to one in the middle of the road, and between two contending bands of soldiers. Here the bullets were not likely to find him, at least for the present, and his only hope depended upon the possibility of his presence not having been heeded. Perhaps the soldiers in either band had been so intent upon watching what the others would do, that a frightened lad between their lines would not be discovered.
This hope was not strong enough to induce him to leave his shelter, and he decided to remain in the ditch until he was satisfied that all danger was past. The moments dragged on, and the silence which had followed the brief contest was unbroken. The heat was becoming more and more intense, and Tom felt that he could not remain much longer in his present position. Still, he waited and listened, but the sound of the cawing crows was all that he could hear. He counted off the minutes, and when what he judged must be an hour had passed, he concluded to remain there no longer. The men had not been heard in all that time, and doubtless must have disappeared from the immediate vicinity.
The sight of the men had shown Tom that he was nearer the army than he had supposed. For a moment the thought of his former eager desire to join it came into his mind, and when he contrasted his feelings then with those he now had, his present position seemed almost ludicrous. Bespattered with mud, hiding in a ditch by the roadside, in constant fear of the return of the men, he certainly did not present the appearance of a very brave young soldier. Even Tom smiled as he thought of all this, but he was wiser than he had been a few days before this time, and the sound of guns was not exactly like that of which he had dreamed.
Tom Coward was not lacking in bravery, however, but the position in which he had found himself certainly was a trying one, and perhaps the boldest of us might have done no better had we been caught in his predicament.
The time had now come, he thought, when it must be safe for him to venture out upon the road again, and, grasping his gun, he prepared to climb out of the ditch, when he suddenly paused as he thought he heard the sound of voices once more.