The bite was not severe, and I laughed heartily at his mishap; but after drinking, and before reaching the fence, the same dog rushed out once more. Ross saw him in time, and sprang over the fence, but I sat on the top of it in fancied security. The malicious creature sprang at me, seized my coat, and tore a large piece out of it. The same coat, thus torn, I wore during the whole of the year through which our adventures extended. The incident was trivial, but in the deepening darkness, with a thunder-storm, which now began to mutter in the distance, approaching, uncertain as to where our comrades were, and at the beginning of a desperate enterprise, it stands out in memory with lurid distinctness. To a superstitious person it might have seemed ominous of the results of that expedition in which Ross perished, and from which I returned a shattered and disabled invalid.
A pistol-shot easily cleared us of the dog, and we pursued our way,—not rejoicingly, for our situation grew every moment more perplexing. Not one of our comrades was visible, and we were almost certain we had taken the wrong road. Finally, we resolved to retrace our steps, and try to get in Shelbyville some better clue to our journey. Unless we could obtain further instructions, we knew not how or where to go. We did not like to return to camp, for that would probably delay us too long to take part in the enterprise, and the failure to go, after our affecting leave-taking, would have formed a ludicrous anticlimax, and probably have been charged to cowardice. At a cross-road in sight of Shelbyville, where we felt sure that any of the adventurers who obeyed the directions we had received must pass, we sat down and waited nearly an hour longer.
Our patience was rewarded. We had started too soon, and from this miscalculation all our perplexity arose. A few men, whom we recognized almost instinctively as belonging to our party, came along the road in the right direction. A little guarded conversation showed us that we were right, and we strolled slowly on with them. Shortly afterwards others overtook us, among whom was Andrews. This was a great relief, as we now had a guide. Soon we were as far from Shelbyville as Ross and I alone had been, and a few hundred yards farther on fell in with still other men. Our party had so greatly increased as to be quite conspicuous, and it was advisable to add still further security to the cover of the night. Accordingly, we left the road for some distance, and, marching silently, were soon at the appointed rendezvous.
A little thicket of dead and withered trees, a short distance from the road, and sufficiently open to assure us that no listener was near, was the place of our assemblage. Never was a consultation preparatory to some desperate deed held under more fitting circumstances. The storm which had been gathering all the evening was now near. Black clouds covered one half the sky, and the young moon, low down in the west, was soon obscured. The frequent flashes of lightning, more vivid in the darkness, and the low roll of thunder that followed, grew continually more emphatic, forming most startling interruptions to the earnest but suppressed words of our leader. It is very singular that amid these ominous surroundings, which fitted so well the character of the business in hand, one ordinary sound stands out in my memory, far more clear and distinct than any part of the scene. Far off I heard the bark or howl of a dog,—no doubt at some farm-house,—roused either by the coming storm which began to sway the leafless boughs above us, or by the passing of some belated traveller. Popular superstition would probably have considered such a sound as ominous of evil; and most of us are superstitious when young, in the dark, and entering upon unknown dangers.
We formed a close circle around Mr. Andrews while he revealed to us his daring plans. In a voice as soft and low as a woman's, but tremulous with suppressed enthusiasm, he painted the greatness of the project we were to attempt, the sublimity of rushing through a hostile country at the full speed of steam, leaving flaming bridges and raging but powerless foes behind. But he did not disguise the dangers to be encountered.
"Soldiers," he said, "if you are detected while engaged in this business, the great probability is that you will be put to death,—hung as spies, or massacred by a mob. I want you to clearly understand this, and if you are not willing to take the risk, return to camp, and keep perfectly quiet about it."
A murmur all around the circle conveyed the assurance that we would follow him to the last extremity.
"Our plan," he continued, "is simply this: you are to travel on foot, or by any conveyance you can hire, either to Chattanooga or some station not far from that point on the Memphis and Charleston Railroad; then you can take passage on the cars down to Marietta; that will be our next place of assembling, and not Atlanta. You must be there by Thursday evening, ready to take passage on the cars northward again by Friday morning. I will be there as soon as you, and tell you what more is to be done."
"But how about money to pay our way?" was asked.