“Mother, how many bridges cross the Antietam River?” questioned Roxy, the day after their return from the adventurous ride to Sharpsburg. Roxy was in the swing under the big butternut tree, and Mrs. Delfield had brought her sewing to the seat, resolved not to lose sight of her little daughter.

“Let me see. I think there are fourteen; the largest is near where the Antietam empties into the Potomac,” Mrs. Delfield replied thoughtfully, remembering that General Lee’s troops coming up from their triumph at Harper’s Ferry had marched over this bridge to Sharpsburg, and knowing that on this sunny September morning the Southern Army was posted near the Dunker Church beyond Sharpsburg.

On that very morning, September 15th, 1862, the Federal troops were appearing over the crest of the hill which overlooks the Antietam from the east; the great army of McClellan, ninety thousand strong, streamed down the slopes and settled down in sight of the Confederates; and on each side of the Antietam, six miles distant from the Miller farm, the armies were now encamped, and ready for the terrible battle that was to rage for three days.

Mrs. Delfield was telling Roxy something of the story of the beautiful arched bridges of stone that had been built many years ago across the Antietam when Roxy jumped from the swing exclaiming:

“Mother! Mother! Here are the Hinhams,” and ran toward the yard where the Hinhams’ carryall drawn by a big brown horse had just arrived.

Mrs. Hinham and her little daughters were warmly welcomed; they were on their way home, as Mrs. Hinham said she was sure the farm was a much safer place than Sharpsburg.

Jasmine, Myrtle and Ivy went back to the swing with Roxy while Mrs. Hinham and Mrs. Miller and the Delfields talked anxiously of the battle that might begin any moment; and even as they stood there speaking of Lee and Jackson, of McClellan and Burnside, the generals in command, the rumble of distant artillery sounded upon the air. From time to time during the day they heard these echoing guns, but it was not until the next day, the 16th of September, that the great battle of Antietam really began.

Jasmine and Myrtle listened eagerly to the story of Roxy’s adventures since they had last met, and when she told them of the ledge where she had kept faithful watch, of the two squirrels that had become so tame, and of the house she had built for “Dinah,” Jasmine and Myrtle both exclaimed that they wished they could visit the ledge.

“Perhaps we can; I’ll ask Mother,” said Roxy, and ran to the porch where the family were gathered.

“But the ledge is a mile from here; it will be too far for Myrtle and Ivy to walk,” Mrs. Delfield said, but Roxy quickly responded:

“Myrtle and Ivy can ride on ‘Beauty.’”

“So they can; and I think Etta-Belle had better go with you,” said Mrs. Delfield, who, since Roxy had been carried off by the scout, was determined that some older person should always be near the little girl.

“May we take a lunch, Mother?” Roxy whispered, and Mrs. Delfield replied that she must ask Dulcie, and the little girl ran to the kitchen where Dulcie and Etta-Belle were chattering about war and battles.

“Dar won’ be no slaves w’en dis war end,” Roxy heard Etta-Belle declare; “niggers’ll hev to look out fer derselves if Massa Linkum hev his way.”

Dulcie went off to the pantry to prepare the luncheon and Etta-Belle was well pleased to go with the girls to the distant ledge.

“Beauty” whinnied in evident delight as Jasmine and Myrtle ran toward him, and with Myrtle and Ivy mounted on his broad back and Jasmine and Roxy walking beside him, while Etta-Belle carrying the basket of luncheon followed on behind, the little party started down the lane, but came to a sudden stop when Roxy heard her father calling:

“Roxy! Roxy!”

“Yes, Father?” she called back.

“No signalling, remember!”

“Oh, Father! May I not signal to Polly to come to the ledge?”

“No, indeed.” Captain Delfield’s voice was firm. “Remember, Roxy: not a signal. Promise.”

“All right, Father. I won’t signal,” Roxy promised, but she was greatly disappointed; she had told Jasmine that she would let her signal to Polly, and Jasmine now said:

“I can signal, can’t I, Roxy?”

Roxy shook her head. “No, Father said: ‘No signalling’ so we can’t,” and for a few moments the girls walked on in silence, while behind them Etta-Belle sang:

“De yam will grow, de cotton blow,
We’ll raise de rice an’ corn,
Oh! Nebber yo’ fear if nebber yo’ hear
De driver blow his horn.”

Etta-Belle had been born a slave; her early home had been in South Carolina, and she never told anyone how she had found her way to the hills of Maryland. Dulcie was sure that Etta-Belle had run away from the plantation where she had lived a slave; but the negro woman kept her secret. She now declared that she was “gwine ter b’long ter Missy Roxy, an’ take keer ob her,” and she smiled broadly whenever the little girls turned to speak to her.

The little party rested at the old sycamore, and then started up the slope to the ledge. Jasmine and Myrtle climbed sturdily to the top, but little Ivy had to be carried most of the way by Etta-Belle, and Roxy dragged the basket of lunch, lifting it to rocks above her, or pulling it up from shelving ledges over which she had climbed.

They were all tired when they reached the scrubby oak tree, where they found “Dinah” safely resting in her own house. The squirrels could be heard scolding, and soon ventured from their hiding-places when Roxy called their names and put bits of gingerbread where they could see it.

Ivy was delighted when one of the squirrels was coaxed near enough to nibble a piece of gingerbread that she held toward him on the end of a stick, and wanted Roxy to catch him and carry him home. But Roxy shook her head.

“That would make him a prisoner, and I wouldn’t do that,” she said, and told the story of the Yankee boy whom she had fed and helped on his way. “The squirrel would hate being shut up just as much as that Yankee soldier did,” she said soberly.

“Oh, Roxy, what wonderful things happen to you!” exclaimed Jasmine admiringly. “Just think, finding the Yankee soldier, and being taken away from this ledge by a Confederate scout, and then riding to Sharpsburg with Union soldiers!” and Jasmine gave a little sigh. “Why do you s’pose, Roxy, so much happens to you?”

But Roxy shook her head soberly; she was thinking that none of her adventures had been very pleasant ones, excepting helping the Yankee soldier.

“I don’t know,” she replied, and as both the squirrels at that moment made a flying leap to Jasmine’s shoulder the little girl was too well entertained to ask any more questions; but Roxy wondered, as she often did, if her Yankee soldier had reached safety and if she would ever see him again.

The little Hinham girls thought the ledge a fine playhouse, and when Roxy opened the basket and spread the luncheon on a smooth rock near Dinah’s house they danced around it happily, singing the song they had sung on the day that Roxy had made her unexpected visit to the Hinham place:

“I heard fairy bells ringing—
And fairies were singing,
And dancing and bringing
Fairy honey to the one
Who wore the gold crown.”

Etta-Belle looked on in smiling delight, thinking to herself that the Confederate scouts had brought her good fortune when they brought Roxy to her cabin.

Before the girls had finished their luncheon they all noticed a huge bird circling about high over their heads.

“It’s an eagle,” said Roxy; and then Jasmine remembered that in the spring an eagle had swooped down and carried off a young lamb from a field near the Hinham house.

“Roland says the eagles have nests on mountain tops, and that they are the strongest and bravest birds in the world,” she added.

“He keeps coming nearer and nearer!” exclaimed Myrtle, as the huge bird circled in the air above them, his wide-spread wings seeming to cast a shadow over the sunny ledge.

A moment after Myrtle’s exclamation Etta-Belle gave a shriek of terror and grabbed up the pole that Roxy had used for her signal flag; and she was none too soon, for the eagle with a wide swoop now darted down straight toward little Ivy, who with Dinah in her arms was looking up toward this wonderful bird; but Etta-Belle’s strong sweep of the pole struck the bird with sufficient force to send it from its course and its sharp talons did not touch Ivy; and, evidently surprised by the unexpected assault, the bird made no further attack upon the girls but floated off toward the distant mountain top.

“We’s gwine home dis instan’ minute,” Etta-Belle declared, her voice trembling with fear, and the little girls scrambled down the ledge. Roxy carried “Dinah,” for she feared the eagle might return and make off with her treasured doll.

“Beauty” was hurried toward home at a good pace, while Jasmine and Roxy ran on behind him; now and then the little girls spoke of the danger Ivy had escaped, and Roxy began to think that the ledge was not a very safe place; and when they reached home and the older people heard the story of the eagle Grandma Miller promptly declared that Roxy must not again visit the ledge; and Roxy’s mother began to think that her little daughter was in danger whenever she was out of her mother’s sight.

In the late afternoon the Hinhams rode off toward home, telling Roxy that the gray pony could remain at the Miller farm as long as Roxy stayed there.

“It’s just the same as if ‘Beauty’ was really your own pony, Roxy,” Jasmine said smilingly, as the two little girls said good-bye.

At that very moment, on the borders of the Antietam, his back toward the Potomac, Lee was making ready to meet the army of McClellan; and on the following morning, September 16th, 1862, the Confederates found themselves facing the enemy who from the opposite side of the Antietam River opened fire upon them. Equal in courage, Northern and Southern Armies faced each other as the Union divisions, by bridge and ford, crossed the Antietam and met the Confederates on the open field only to be driven back with serious losses. The brave veteran, General Mansfield, was killed, General Hooker severely wounded, and for a time it seemed that Lee would win the battle.

At the stone bridge across the Antietam General Burnside held back Lee’s forces, and pressed forward to the heights, and nightfall brought the battle to an end without either army having triumphed.

All that day Roxy kept close at home. The sound of echoing guns told the people of the hillside farms of the terrible battle, and they could think of nothing else.

On the next morning, September 18th, Lee resolved to retreat, and on the night of the eighteenth he crossed the Potomac by the Shepardstown Ford into Virginia. And now for a time the Union Army remained quiet near Sharpsburg.

It was on September 19th that Roland Hinham rode into the Miller yard with the news that Lee’s troops were crossing the Potomac into Virginia, and Grandma Miller and Mrs. Delfield at once began to pack baskets of food, bandages for the wounded soldiers in the camps beyond Sharpsburg, and packages of clothing upon which they had been at work all the summer; Mrs. Miller and Jacob started off early that afternoon with a well-filled wagon.

“Can’t say when we’ll be back,” Grandma Miller had declared, and Roxy went down to the stone wall and stood there until the wagon vanished in the distance.

She looked down at the old stone bridge, remembering the day in early summer when she had quarrelled with Polly, and come running back to discover the Yankee soldier.

“That seems a long time ago,” thought Roxy, remembering all that had happened since then.

She was just turning back to the house when Polly, mounted on “Brownie,” came trotting over the bridge, and Roxy’s solemn thoughts vanished as she slipped through the opening in the wall and ran down the slope to meet her.

“Polly! Polly!” she called; “General Lee is driven back from Maryland!”