“And I reckon Stonewall Jackson will be about right!” said Cousin Eliza Pomeroy, who was evidently a woman of strong mind. “Billy, you lead these boys straight to Manassas Gap.”
“Oh, no, Cousin Eliza!” exclaimed Dalton. “Billy’s been riding hard all day, and we can find the way.”
“What do you think Billy’s made out of?” asked his mother contemptuously. “Ain’t he a valley boy? Ain’t he Jim Pomeroy’s son and mine? I want you to understand that Billy can ride anything, and he can ride it all day long and all night long, too!”
“Make ’em let me go, ma!” exclaimed Billy, eagerly. “I can save time. I can show ’em the shortest way!”
Harry and George glanced at each other. Young Billy Pomeroy might be of great value to them. Moreover, the choice was already made for them, because Billy was now running to the stable for his horse.
“He goes with us, or rather he leads us, Cousin Eliza,” said Dalton.
Billy appeared the next instant, with his horse saddled and bridled, and his own proud young self in the saddle.
“Billy, take ’em straight,” said his Spartan mother, as she drew him down in the saddle and kissed him, and Billy, more swollen with pride than ever, promised that he would. But the mother’s voice broke a little when she said to Dalton:
“He’s to guide you wherever you want to go, but you must bring him back to me unhurt.”
“We will, Cousin Eliza,” said Dalton earnestly.
Then they galloped away in the dark with Billy leading and riding like a Comanche. He had taken a fresh horse from the stall and it was almost as powerful as those ridden by Harry and Dalton.
“See the mountains,” said Billy, pointing eastward to a long dark line dimly visible in the moonlight. “That’s the Blue Ridge, and further south is the Gap, but you can’t see it at night until you come right close to it.”
“Do you know any path through the woods, Billy?” asked Harry. “We don’t want to run the risk of capture.”
“I was just about to lead you into it,” replied the boy, still rejoicing in the importance of his role. “Here it is.”
He turned off from the road into a path leading into thick forest, wide enough for only one horse at a time. Billy, of course, led, Harry followed, and Dalton brought up the rear. The path, evidently a short cut used by farmers, was enclosed by great oaks, beeches and elms, now in full leaf, and it was dark there. Only a slit of moonlight showed from above, and the figures of the three riders grew shadowy.
“They’ll never find us here, will they, Billy?” said Harry.
“Not one chance in a thousand. Them Yankees don’t know a thing about the country. Anyway, if they should come into the path at the other end, we’d hear them long before they heard us.”
“You’re right, Billy, and as we ride on we’ll all three listen with six good ears.”
“Yes, sir,” said Billy.
Harry, although only a boy himself, was so much older than Billy, who addressed him as “sir,” that he felt himself quite a veteran.
“Billy,” he said, “how did it happen that you were riding down this way, so far from home, to-day?”
“‘Cause we heard there was Yanks in the Gap. Ma won’t let me go an’ fight with Stonewall Jackson. She says I ain’t old enough an’ big enough, but she told me herself to get on the horse an’ ride down this way, an’ see if what we heard was true. I saw ’em in little bunches, an’ then that gang come to our house to-night, less ‘n ten minutes after I come back. We’ll be at a creek, sir, in less than five minutes. It runs down from the mountains, an’ it’s pretty deep with all them big spring rains. I guess we’ll have to swim, sir. We could go lower down, where there’s always a ford, but that’s where the Yankees would be crossing.”
“We’ll swim, if necessary, Billy.”
“When even the women and little children fight for us, the South will be hard to conquer,” was Harry’s thought, but he said no more until they reached the creek, which was indeed swollen by the heavy rains, and was running swiftly, a full ten feet in depth.