The Young Sharpshooter at Antietam

by Everett T. Tomlinson

The Confederate officer was unaware of the gleam which appeared for a moment in the eyes of Dennis, and he said lightly, "We'll be ready for all you can bring us, Tom. We'll put these two fellows in the pen until we have enough to make it worth while to send them on to Libby."

As he heard the name of the well-known prison in Richmond, Noel's heart was heavy. Stories were current of the sufferings of the Union prisoners who had been confined in the famous old warehouse, which had been transformed early in the war into a prison for the Northern soldiers. There had come many a tale of daring attempts to escape as well as of the almost indescribable sufferings of its inmates. Perhaps it was all a part of the struggle, and yet with the bitterness of the time so keen, few were in a condition to look with calmness upon the sufferings of the prisoners of either side in the struggle.

To be sent to Libby Prison! For a moment Noel's thoughts ran back to his home on the banks of the far-away St. Lawrence. He could see the little house sheltered by the overhanging maples. There were the red barns just beyond, and for an instant Noel seemed to catch a glimpse of the line of cattle slowly moving up the lane toward the barnyard. In the distance occasional glimpses of the waters of the St. Lawrence, gleaming in the light of the afternoon sun, were had. His mother was moving quietly about the kitchen preparing the evening meal. Frank was lying as he was, when he had last seen him, on the couch in the room where his mother was busy. His father, perhaps, was singing at his task as he milked the cows. Even the thought of the stirring words and tunes which his father best loved to sing failed now to find any response in the mind of Noel. It was one thing to sing of the glory of war, but it was another and far different thing to be held as a prisoner in southern Maryland and to be threatened with confinement in the old prison-house at Richmond.

However, there was no possibility of evading, at least for the present, the problem which must be confronted. Soon both Noel and Dennis were searched and every loose possession was taken from them, to be held until such a time as the war should cease or the prisoners should be exchanged. There was another alternative in the thoughts of Noel, but he did not refer to it. What that was became manifest after several days had elapsed.

As Noel now glanced about him he was able to discover that very few negroes were in the house. He was eager to discover the presence of Long John, but he soon concluded that the treacherous black man had retraced his way over the corduroy road, and doubtless now was trying to lead some others of the unfortunate Union soldiers into the same trap in which he and Dennis had been caught.

A half-hour after they had entered the house, Noel and Dennis were conducted to a room on the first floor and thrust into it. The evening was warm and the door was left open, but the guard was stationed directly in front of it, so that any attempt on the part of the prisoners to escape would be instantly known.

Noel looked cautiously out of the window in the room, and was aware that a full guard had been established to patrol the place. At least four of the Confederate soldiers were assigned to this task, and each one was responsible for only one side of the house.

The guard that was inside and had charge of the door was good-natured and looked at his Yankee prisoners with undisguised interest. It was plain that he did not have any fear of the young prisoners attempting to escape. Such an effort would be worse than useless, for at least twenty men were in the band, and the prisoners themselves now were unarmed.

"Whar yo' from?" inquired the guard.

"From New York State," answered Noel quietly.