



Produced by Ken Reeder





THE GUNS OF SHILOH

A STORY OF THE GREAT WESTERN CAMPAIGN


By Joseph A. Altsheler




FOREWORD


"The Guns of Shiloh," a complete story in itself, is the complement of
"The Guns of Bull Run." In "The Guns of Bull Run" the Civil War and
its beginnings are seen through the eyes of Harry Kenton, who is on the
Southern side. In "The Guns of Shiloh" the mighty struggle takes its
color from the view of Dick Mason, who fights for the North and who is
with Grant in his first great campaign.




THE CIVIL WAR SERIES


 VOLUMES IN THE CIVIL WAR SERIES

  THE GUNS OF BULL RUN.
  THE GUNS OF SHILOH.
  THE SCOUTS OF STONEWALL.
  THE SWORD OF ANTIETAM.
  THE STAR OF GETTYSBURG.
  THE ROCK OF CHICKAMAUGA.
  THE SHADES OF THE WILDERNESS.
  THE TREE OF APPOMATTOX.


 PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS IN THE CIVIL WAR SERIES

  HARRY KENTON, A Lad Who Fights on the Southern Side.
  DICK MASON, Cousin of Harry Kenton, Who Fights on the Northern Side.
  COLONEL GEORGE KENTON, Father of Harry Kenton.
  MRS. MASON, Mother of Dick Mason.
  JULIANA, Mrs. Mason's Devoted <DW52> Servant.
  COLONEL ARTHUR WINCHESTER, Dick Mason's Regimental Commander.
  COLONEL LEONIDAS TALBOT, Commander of the Invincibles,
   a Southern Regiment.
  LIEUTENANT COLONEL HECTOR ST. HILAIRE, Second in Command of the
   Invincibles.
  ALAN HERTFORD, A Northern Cavalry Leader.
  PHILIP SHERBURNE, A Southern Cavalry Leader.
  WILLIAM J. SHEPARD, A Northern Spy.
  DANIEL WHITLEY, A Northern Sergeant and Veteran of the Plains.
  GEORGE WARNER, A Vermont Youth Who Loves Mathematics.
  FRANK PENNINGTON, A Nebraska Youth, Friend of Dick Mason.
  ARTHUR ST. CLAIR, A Native of Charleston, Friend of Harry Kenton.
  TOM LANGDON, Friend of Harry Kenton.
  GEORGE DALTON, Friend of Harry Kenton.
  BILL SKELLY, Mountaineer and Guerrilla.
  TOM SLADE, A Guerrilla Chief.
  SAM JARVIS, The Singing Mountaineer.
  IKE SIMMONS, Jarvis' Nephew.
  AUNT "SUSE," A Centenarian and Prophetess.
  BILL PETTY, A Mountaineer and Guide.
  JULIEN DE LANGEAIS, A Musician and Soldier from Louisiana.
  JOHN CARRINGTON, Famous Northern Artillery Officer.
  DR. RUSSELL, Principal of the Pendleton School.
  ARTHUR TRAVERS, A Lawyer.
  JAMES BERTRAND, A Messenger from the South.
  JOHN NEWCOMB, A Pennsylvania Colonel.
  JOHN MARKHAM, A Northern Officer.
  JOHN WATSON, A Northern Contractor.
  WILLIAM CURTIS, A Southern Merchant and Blockade Runner.
  MRS. CURTIS, Wife of William Curtis.
  HENRIETTA CARDEN, A Seamstress in Richmond.
  DICK JONES, A North Carolina Mountaineer.
  VICTOR WOODVILLE, A Young Mississippi Officer.
  JOHN WOODVILLE, Father of Victor Woodville.
  CHARLES WOODVILLE, Uncle of Victor Woodville.
  COLONEL BEDFORD, A Northern Officer.
  CHARLES GORDON, A Southern Staff Officer.
  JOHN LANHAM, An Editor.
  JUDGE KENDRICK, A Lawyer.
  MR. CULVER, A State Senator.
  MR. BRACKEN, A Tobacco Grower.
  ARTHUR WHITRIDGE, A State Senator.


 HISTORICAL CHARACTERS

  ABRAHAM LINCOLN, President of the United States.
  JEFFERSON DAVIS, President of the Southern Confederacy.
  JUDAH P. BENJAMIN, Member of the Confederate Cabinet.
  U. S. GRANT, Northern Commander.
  ROBERT E. LEE, Southern Commander.
  STONEWALL JACKSON, Southern General.
  PHILIP H. SHERIDAN, Northern General.
  GEORGE H. THOMAS, "The Rock of Chickamauga."
  ALBERT SIDNEY JOHNSTON, Southern General.
  A. P. HILL, Southern General.
  W. S. HANCOCK, Northern General.
  GEORGE B. McCLELLAN, Northern General.
  AMBROSE E. BURNSIDE, Northern General.
  TURNER ASHBY, Southern Cavalry Leader.
  J. E. B. STUART, Southern Cavalry Leader.
  JOSEPH HOOKER, Northern General.
  RICHARD S. EWELL, Southern General.
  JUBAL EARLY, Southern General.
  WILLIAM S. ROSECRANS, Northern General.
  SIMON BOLIVAR BUCKNER, Southern General.
  LEONIDAS POLK, Southern General and Bishop.
  BRAXTON BRAGG, Southern General.
  NATHAN BEDFORD FORREST, Southern Cavalry Leader.
  JOHN MORGAN, Southern Cavalry Leader.
  GEORGE J. MEADE, Northern General.
  DON CARLOS BUELL, Northern General.
  W. T. SHERMAN, Northern General.
  JAMES LONGSTREET, Southern General.
  P. G. T. BEAUREGARD, Southern General.
  WILLIAM L. YANCEY, Alabama Orator.
  JAMES A. GARFIELD, Northern General, afterwards President of
   the United States.

  And many others


 IMPORTANT BATTLES DESCRIBED IN THE CIVIL WAR SERIES

  BULL RUN
  KERNSTOWN
  CROSS KEYS
  WINCHESTER
  PORT REPUBLIC
  THE SEVEN DAYS
  MILL SPRING
  FORT DONELSON
  SHILOH
  PERRYVILLE
  STONE RIVER
  THE SECOND MANASSAS
  ANTIETAM
  FREDERICKSBURG
  CHANCELLORSVILLE
  GETTYSBURG
  CHAMPION HILL
  VICKSBURG
  CHICKAMAUGA
  MISSIONARY RIDGE
  THE WILDERNESS
  SPOTTSYLVANIA
  COLD HARBOR
  FISHER'S HILL
  CEDAR CREEK
  APPOMATTOX



CONTENTS

    I.    IN FLIGHT

   II.    THE MOUNTAIN LIGHTS

  III.    THE TELEGRAPH STATION

   IV.    THE FIGHT IN THE PASS

    V.    THE SINGER OF THE HILLS

   VI.    MILL SPRING

  VII.    THE MESSENGER

 VIII.    A MEETING AT NIGHT

   IX.    TAKING A FORT

    X.    BEFORE DONELSON

   XI.    THE SOUTHERN ATTACK

  XII.    GRANT'S GREAT VICTORY

 XIII.    IN THE FOREST

  XIV.    THE DARK EVE OF SHILOH

   XV.    THE RED DAWN OF SHILOH

  XVI.    THE FIERCE FINISH OF SHILOH




THE GUNS OF SHILOH



CHAPTER I. IN FLIGHT


Dick Mason, caught in the press of a beaten army, fell back slowly with
his comrades toward a ford of Bull Run. The first great battle of the
Civil War had been fought and lost. Lost, after it had been won! Young
as he was Dick knew that fortune had been with the North until the very
closing hour. He did not yet know how it had been done. He did not know
how the Northern charges had broken in vain on the ranks of Stonewall
Jackson's men. He did not know how the fresh Southern troops from the
Valley of Virginia had hurled themselves so fiercely on the Union flank.
But he did know that his army had been defeated and was retreating on
the capital.

Cannon still thundered to right and left, and now and then showers of
bursting shell sprayed over the heads of the tired and gloomy soldiers.
Dick, thoughtful and scholarly, was in the depths of a bitterness and
despair reached by few of those around him. The Union, the Republic, had
appealed to him as the most glorious of experiments. He could not bear
to see it broken up for any cause whatever. It had been founded with
too much blood and suffering and labor to be dissolved in a day on a
Virginia battlefield.

But the army that had almost grasped victory was retreating, and the
camp followers, the spectators who had come out to see an easy triumph,
and some of the raw recruits were running. A youth near Dick cried that
the rebels fifty thousand strong with a hundred guns were hot upon their
heels. A short, powerful man, with a voice like the roar of thunder,
bade him hush or he would feel a rifle barrel across his back. Dick
had noticed this man, a sergeant named Whitley, who had shown singular
courage and coolness throughout the battle, and he crowded closer to him
for companionship. The man observed the action and looked at him with
blue eyes that twinkled out of a face almost black with the sun.

"Don't take it so hard, my boy," he said. "This battle's lost, but there
are others that won't be. Most of the men were raw, but they did some
mighty good fightin', while the regulars an' the cavalry are coverin'
the retreat. Beauregard's army is not goin' to sweep us off the face of
the earth."

His words brought cheer to Dick, but it lasted only a moment. He was to
see many dark days, but this perhaps was the darkest of his life. His
heart beat painfully and his face was a brown mask of mingled dust,
sweat, and burned gunpowder. The thunder of the Southern cannon behind
them filled him with humiliation. Every bone in him ached after such
fierce exertion, and his eyes were dim with the flare of cannon and
rifles and the rolling clouds of dust. He was scarcely conscious that
the thick and powerful sergeant had moved up by his side and had put a
helping hand under his arm.

"Here we are at the ford!" cried Whitley. "Into it, my lad! Ah, how good
the water feels!"

Dick, despite those warning guns behind him, would have remained a while
in Bull Run, luxuriating in the stream, but the crowd of his comrades
was pressing hard upon him, and he only had time to thrust his face into
the water and to pour it over his neck, arms, and shoulders. But he was
refreshed greatly. Some of the heat went out of his body, and his eyes
and head ached less.

The retreat continued across the rolling hills. Dick saw everywhere arms
and supplies thrown away by the fringe of a beaten army, the men in the
rear who saw and who spread the reports of panic and terror. But the
regiments were forming again into a cohesive force, and behind them
the regulars and cavalry in firm array still challenged pursuit. Heavy
firing was heard again under the horizon and word came that the Southern
cavalry had captured guns and wagons, but the main division maintained
its slow retreat toward Washington.

Now the cool shadows were coming. The sun, which had shown as red as
blood over the field that day, was sinking behind the hills. Its fiery
rays ceased to burn the faces of the men. A soft healing breeze stirred
the leaves and grass. The river of Bull Run and the field of Manassas
were gone from sight, and the echo of the last cannon shot died solemnly
on the Southern horizon. An hour later the brigade stopped in the wood,
and the exhausted men threw themselves upon the ground. They were so
tired that their bodies were in pain as if pricked with needles. The
chagrin and disgrace of defeat were forgotten for the time in the
overpowering desire for rest.

Dick had enlisted as a common soldier. There was no burden of
maintaining order upon him, and he threw himself upon the ground by the
side of his new friend, Sergeant Whitley. His breath came at first in
gasps, but presently he felt better and sat up.

It was now full night, thrice blessed to them all, with the heat and
dust gone and no enemy near. The young recruits had recovered their
courage. The terrible scenes of the battle were hid from their eyes, and
the cannon no longer menaced on the horizon. The sweet, soothing wind
blew gently over the hills among which they lay, and the leaves rustled
peacefully.

Fires were lighted, wagons with supplies arrived, and the men began
to cook food, while the surgeons moved here and there, binding up the
wounds of the hurt. The pleasant odors of coffee and frying meat arose.
Sergeant Whitley stood up and by the moonlight and the fires scanned the
country about them with discerning eye. Dick looked at him with renewed
interest. He was a man of middle years, but with all the strength and
elasticity of youth. Despite his thick coat of tan he was naturally
fair, and Dick noticed that his hands were the largest that he had ever
seen on any human being. They seemed to the boy to have in them the
power to strangle a bear. But the man was singularly mild and gentle in
his manner.

"We're about half way to Washington, I judge," he said, "an' I expect a
lot of our camp followers and grass-green men are all the way there
by now, tellin' Abe Lincoln an' everybody else that a hundred thousand
rebels fell hard upon us on the plain of Manassas."

He laughed deep down in his throat and Dick again drew courage and
cheerfulness from one who had such a great store of both.

"How did it happen? Our defeat, I mean," asked Dick. "I thought almost
to the very last moment that we had the victory won."

"Their reserves came an' ours didn't. But the boys did well. Lots worse
than this will happen to us, an' we'll live to overcome it. I've been
through a heap of hardships in my life, Dick, but I always remember that
somebody else has been through worse. Let's go down the hill. The boys
have found a branch an' are washin' up."

By "branch" he meant a brook, and Dick went with him gladly. They
found a fine, clear stream, several feet broad and a foot deep, flowing
swiftly between the <DW72>s, and probably emptying miles further on into
Bull Run. Already it was lined by hundreds of soldiers, mostly boys,
who were bathing freely in its cool waters. Dick and the sergeant joined
them and with the sparkle of the current fresh life and vigor flowed
into their veins.

An officer took command, and when they had bathed their faces, necks,
and arms abundantly they were allowed to take off their shoes and socks
and put their bruised and aching feet in the stream.

"It seems to me, sergeant, that this is pretty near to Heaven," said
Dick as he sat on the bank and let the water swish around his ankles.

"It's mighty good. There's no denyin' it, but we'll move still a step
nearer to Heaven, when we get our share of that beef an' coffee, which
I now smell most appetizin'. Hard work gives a fellow a ragin' appetite,
an' I reckon fightin' is the hardest of all work. When I was a lumberman
in Wisconsin I thought nothin' could beat that, but I admit now that a
big battle is more exhaustin'."

"You've worked in the timber then?"

"From the time I was twelve years old 'til three or four years ago. If
I do say it myself, there wasn't a man in all Wisconsin, or Michigan
either, who could swing an axe harder or longer than I could. I guess
you've noticed these hands of mine."

He held them up, and they impressed Dick more than ever. They were great
masses of bone and muscle fit for a giant.

"Paws, the boys used to call 'em," resumed Whitley with a pleased laugh.
"I inherited big hands. Father had em an' mother had 'em, too. So mine
were wonders when I was a boy, an' when you add to that years an' years
with the axe, an' with liftin' an' rollin' big logs I've got what I
reckon is the strongest pair of hands in the United States. I can pull a
horseshoe apart any time. Mighty useful they are, too, as I'm likely to
show you often."

The chance came very soon. A frightened horse, probably with the memory
of the battle still lodged somewhere in his animal brain, broke his
tether and came charging among the troops. Whitley made one leap, seized
him by the bit in his mighty grasp and hurled him back on his haunches,
where he held him until fear was gone from him.

"It was partly strength and partly sleight of hand, a trick that I
learned in the cavalry," he said to Dick as they put on their shoes.
"I got tired of lumberin' an' I wandered out west, where I served three
years on horseback in the regular army, fightin' the Indians. Good
fighters they are, too. Mighty hard to put your hand on 'em. Now they're
there an' now they ain't. Now you see 'em before you, an' then they're
behind you aimin' a tomahawk at your head. They taught us a big lot
that I guess we can use in this war. Come on, Dick, I guess them banquet
halls are spread, an' I know we're ready."

Not much order was preserved in the beaten brigade, which had become
separated from the rest of the retreating army, but the spirits of all
were rising and that, so Sergeant Whitley told Dick, was better just now
than technical discipline. The Northern army had gone to Bull Run with
ample supplies, and now they lacked for nothing. They ate long and well,
and drank great quantities of coffee. Then they put