Somers found every instant of his time occupied, as he dashed from one division to another; while shot, shell, and bullets flew through the air like hailstones. Kind Providence protected him again, as it had before, and he escaped all injury. On marched the victorious line, conquering every obstacle, and driving the rebels before them; but it was long after dark before the red field was entirely won, and the Union troops were in possession of the crests of the mountain.
“Captain Somers, you have done admirably, and fully justified my selection of you for the important and difficult position to which you have been assigned.”
Somers bowed, and felt as happy as though he had commanded the successful army.
“One more task to-night, captain. You will ride to the headquarters of the army, give my compliments to General McClellan, and inform him that we have carried the position, and routed the enemy.”
Somers saluted the general, and urged forward his weary horse towards Middletown. He found the commander-in-chief still in the saddle, and delivered his message. He was directed to bear the congratulations of General McClellan to the commander of the first army corps on his success, with instructions to follow up the retreating rebels, and to employ General Richardson’s division, which had been sent forward to report to him, in this work, if the condition of his own troops required it.
Somers made his salute, and was riding off, thinking over what had just been said to him, as he had learned to do when sent on an errand in his childhood. He was fully absorbed in his thoughts, when a voice pronounced his name.
“Captain Somers, I am glad to see you again,” said an officer, urging forward his horse to intercept him.
Somers looked at him, and was not a little surprised, in the darkness of the evening, to recognize Major Riggleston, who appeared to be one of the numerous staff of the commanding general. Perhaps it was fortunate for the messenger that he had already faithfully conned his errand, or the appearance of the traitor would have forever driven it from his mind.
“Major Riggleston!” exclaimed he, hardly able to believe the evidence of his own senses.
It was plain, after all, that he had not been fully converted to the rebel faith by the blandishments of the beautiful Maud; but he was occupying a worse and more disgraceful position, in Somers’s estimation, than to have stood square up with the enemies of the country. It was most audacious in the major to hail him, after what had occurred at the mansion of the Maryland grandee, and Somers regarded him not only as a rebel, but as the stupidest rebel he had ever met.