Berry had not realized that her words would hurt Mollie’s sensitive nature; indeed she hardly remembered what she had said, for her thoughts were full of marching armies; of sleeping soldiers suddenly attacked by relentless foes; and of herself, as a swift-footed messenger, reaching the Union camp in time to warn and save them. She went about the cabin after her mother’s departure repeating a verse from a poem she had learned that winter, a poem by Sir Walter Scott:

“My lan’, Missie Berry!” exclaimed the admiring Lily, “does yo’ reckon we’s gwine ter see all dat?”

And at Lily’s question Berry quickly remembered that she should be off to Shiloh and keep watch. The little girl realized from her father’s anxious face, and from what he said of the probable advance of Confederate troops, that any hour might see them on the march.

“I don’t know, Lily,” she responded gravely, “but I’m sure we ought to keep watch all the time; and I’m going up the ridge now.”

“I bin a projectin’, Missie Berry, ’bout yo’ Ma tellin’ me to stay clus in dis cabin in de mawnin’s. Co’rse I mus’ min’ her,” said Lily, “so I jes’ wonner if I hadn’ better keep a watch out at night. Dar ain’ no reason w’y dose sojers wouldn’ come a-creepin’ fru de woods at night!” And Lily rolled her eyes and nodded her head solemnly.

“Oh, Lily! Of course! I forgot all about nights!” Berry responded eagerly. “But how can you keep awake?”

“I reckon I kin,” declared Lily.

“Well, we’ll begin to keep a steady watch from to-day. I’ll be on guard days and you can watch nights,” said Berry. “If you hear or see anything, Lily, you must let me know as quickly as you can!”

“Yas, Missie Berry, I kin swarm up dat oak tree side yo’ winder an’ tells yo’, if I hears sojers or sees armies,” promised Lily, and returned to her work, while Berry put on her red cap and started off for another look along the roads leading to Corinth.

It was the twenty-eighth day of March, 1862, and on that very day General Halleck, of the Union army, had informed General Buell that Grant would attack the enemy “as soon as the roads are passable.” It was to be a deliberate forward movement on Corinth from Pittsburg Landing, to be undertaken some days later; for the Union forces had no idea of the Confederates’ plan to surprise them by an attack on Pittsburg Landing.

The river banks at the Landing rise eighty feet above the river, but are cloven by a series of ravines, through one of which runs the main road to Corinth. Beyond the crest of the acclivity stretches a rough tableland. On this plateau five divisions of General Grant’s Army of West Tennessee were camped, feeling themselves absolutely secure from any hostile visit, and unsuspicious of any shock of battle, and little imagining that a small Yankee girl was to be the means of saving them from capture.

As Berry ran along through the forest she could hear the cheerful songs of cardinals and robins. Squirrels scolded at her as they clung to the trunks of the tall oaks; and the air was full of the springtime fragrance. The silver chain and whistle hung about her neck, and Berry gave them a little loving touch, thinking of the absent brother who had given them to her. As she came out on the high plateau and stood looking toward the Tennessee River there was no sound except the songs of birds and the chattering of squirrels to break the stillness. Berry’s keen glance scanned the distant road, but there was no moving form to be seen. She turned and looked toward Shiloh woods; the woods where Confederate troops would lay on their arms on the night before the Battle of Shiloh were now quiet in the spring sunshine.

Berry perched herself on the stump of an old tree and began to wish that she had asked Mollie to be her companion.

“Mollie would not imagine why I wanted to climb up here; and we could play our old games,” thought Berry, recalling the previous autumn when she and Mollie had made families of dolls out of sticks and twigs with moss for hair and with gowns of oak-leaves and vines. They had made playhouses among the ledges or at the roots of some big tree, where, happy and undisturbed, they would play for hours. Berry wondered if they would ever again play together on that pleasant hillside.

She had only been resting a few moments when she heard the crashing of underbrush on the slope beneath her. Berry quickly concealed herself behind a tree; and in a moment the sound of loud voices, the jingle of arms and the noise of approaching feet made her whisper, “Soldiers!” And it was not long before half a dozen men, in the blue uniform of the Northern army, came out into the open space on top of the ridge. They were evidently tired from their climb up the ravine, and, to Berry’s surprise, they apparently had no notion of concealing themselves—they were talking and laughing together as if they had no thought of war.

Berry was near enough to the newcomers to see them distinctly, and to hear every word they said. She heard them speak of the army in camp at Pittsburg Landing, and gave a little gasp of surprise, wondering if her father knew that Grant’s troops were so near.

“There ought to be outposts stationed all along here,” she heard one of the younger soldiers declare; and another laughingly responded, “Oh, Colonel Peabody, the Confederates won’t march over these roads and gullies. It’s the Union soldiers who will go after them at Corinth.”

“That may be, but it would do no harm to guard the roads,” responded the young officer gravely.

Berry waited to hear no more. It seemed to the little girl that there must be marching soldiers in every direction, and she crept noiselessly away into the shelter of the forest and ran toward home eager to tell her father of what she had seen and heard.

Half-way down the ravine she met her father, who was on his way home from a visit to the Braggs’ cabin.

“Father! Father! There are soldiers at Shiloh church! I saw them! And Grant’s army is at Pittsburg Landing!” Berry exclaimed, clasping her father’s hand as if she expected an army instantly to seize him.

“Yes, my dear. And you must now stay closely at home. The main roads to Corinth will be guarded by soldiers; but our cabin is too far from the highways for us to see them,” Mr. Arnold quietly replied.

“Do you suppose we will see General Grant?” asked Berry; and her father smiled down at the little girl’s eager face.

“He will probably march on to Corinth in a few days,” he responded, and then added, “The flare of his camp-fires can be seen from Shiloh; their outposts are not more than a mile from the main line. If the Confederates surprise them it will be a terrible struggle.”

“But they mustn’t surprise them!” the little girl exclaimed earnestly; and again resolved that she would watch more closely than ever for any sign of the approaching enemy.

When they reached the cabin Mrs. Arnold was on the outlook for them. She and Mr. Arnold spoke of Mollie and her mother, and Mrs. Arnold declared that Mrs. Bragg was sure that Len might appear any day.

“Their cabin is so far in from the highway that I think they will be safe,” Mr. Arnold said thoughtfully. And both Berry and her mother understood that he was thinking that it might be possible, before many days passed, that Northern and Southern troops would meet in deadly conflict along those peaceful country roads.

That night Berry followed Lily when the colored girl started toward the barn. “Lily, I’m going to take turns watching at night!” she said. “General Grant’s army is at Pittsburg Landing, and if the Confederates surprise them my father says they might capture the Union army.”

Lily gazed at her young mistress a little fearfully. “My lan’, Missie Berry! Yo’ don’ reckon we cud stop a army, does yo’?” she said, waving the milk pail as if it were a banner; “how does yo’ reckon we gwine ter do sich a thing?”

“We can do it by letting General Grant know that the Confederates mean to attack his camp!” declared Berry.

“We shu’ kin do dat, Missie Berry; pervided we sees ’um fust! I reckons we’ll hev ter watch out sharp!” Lily responded soberly.