THE OPERATIONS OF THE BRIDGE-BURNERS

Deck was alone, a prisoner, his ankles bound together, his wrists strapped behind him, and his body made fast to the old bench against the fence. He was not absolutely uncomfortable physically; for Brown Kipps had extended some consideration to him, so that he suffered no pain from the bonds which secured him. The fastenings were straps, taken from his accoutrements; and they did not cut into his flesh, as cords might have done if they had been tied too tight.

All his pain was in the soul, which manacles are dramatically and metaphorically said to pierce when the victim is a high-spirited person. Deck had been captured at his post; and this fact humiliated him, though a court-martial would have acquitted him of all blame. No one below could possibly know that anything had happened to him, or a file of troopers would have been sent to release him before this time. He was almost in sight of his father and Artie; but they were busy watching and waiting for the fight which all believed would certainly take place.

But the prisoner was not left entirely without occupation other than his needless and undeserved self-reproaches; for if any one was to blame it was his father, who had placed him alone at such a distance from the rest of the force, though no one suspected the presence of an enemy in that direction. He had enough to do to observe the operations of the bridgemen. The moment they had secured the prisoner to the satisfaction of the foreman, the other three hastened to disappear over the embankment. They were out of sight but a few minutes, and then one of them returned, while the other two passed up to him several gallon cans. By this time Kipps joined them; and a lot of small bundles of light wood, such as is much used in the South in kindling fires, were tossed up, and caught by the foreman.

Deck understood that all these articles were combustibles, though he could not make out the nature of some of them. All of them were left where they had been received, on the platform of the bridge. It was evident enough to the manacled observer that the structure was doomed, and was to be burned in the very presence of the cavalry sent to protect it. Deck twisted, squirmed, and struggled when he realized the intentions of the bridgemen.

It galled him to the inmost depths of the soul to think that the bridge was to be destroyed before his eyes, and he had not the power to do anything to save it. He did not believe he would be left to perish in the flames, if they reached the place where he was secured, and he had not a selfish fear. He was tempted to repeat the cries he had made before; but the threat of Kipps to shoot him if he "made a row" restrained him. It was folly to throw away his life; for he was vain enough to believe it might be of some service to his country in its hour of peril.

When the men had finished passing up the material, which had plainly been collected in this place for the destruction of the bridge, each of them took a tin case under his arm, and they moved over to the shelter of the fence where they had left their tools. They stopped there long enough to obtain a couple of shovels and as many pickaxes, and then went to the end of the fence next to the bridge.

If the occasion had been less serious, Deck would have been amused at the bridgemen's attempts to conceal themselves from the force below. They worked like miners following a vein of ore deep down in the bowels of the earth, as the witness had seen them in pictures, lying on their backs, or curled up in a heap, using the pickaxe as they could. Between the wall and the embankment the earth had settled so that there was a considerable cavity. Two of the men worked in this hole for a while, the others lying prone upon the ground and watching them.

Then the four cans they had brought were deposited in the aperture, Kipps adjusting and preparing them with his own hands. Deck did not understand what they intended to accomplish by this operation, though he concluded that they meant to blow up the abutment, and that the cans contained powder or dynamite. Whatever the work was, it was soon completed; and then the movements of the men became more amusing than ever. They crawled about on their hands and knees, carrying the cans and bundles of light wood.

They unbound the packages of wood, arranged the little sticks in heaps, and poured what Deck supposed was spirits of turpentine or kerosene over them and on the planks of the structure. The work of preparation was soon completed; for the men seemed to be skilled in the operation, as though they had had experience in these details. They all crawled back to the shelter of the fence, and straightened their backs again.

"Now, my little lily of the valley, I shall have to put you under marching orders," Kipps said, as he stopped before the prisoner.

"What are you going to do with me?" asked Deck, though he hardly expected a definite answer to the question.

"I don't know, my butterfly; but I reckon you uns over there," he replied, pointing to the soldiers below, "would make mischief for we uns if we stay here a great while longer;" and he proceeded to release the victim from the bench.

"I judge that you intend to blow up and burn this bridge," added Deck.

"The whole Yankee army couldn't save it now!" exclaimed the chief bridgeman. "We uns, about two hundred so'diers along with us, was sent over here to make an opening between these two hills; and if you think we ain't go'n' to do it, why, you don't know Brown Kipps, that's all!"

"I think I have been pretty well introduced to him," replied Deck, who had become somewhat accustomed to the situation; and he thought he should fare better with such a person as the foreman by being good-natured than by growling and annoying him. "When you whistled 'Yankee Doodle,' I made up my mind that you were a true Union man, and my heart went out to you."

"I ain't much on 'Yankee Doodle,' and I could done better with 'Dixie;' and I ain't none o' them carrion as whistles 'Yankee Doodle' for the fun on't. It did well enough to still your nerves," said Kipps, as he finished releasing the legs of his prisoner. "Now I want you to march up to that place where you see the wagon standin' down by the side of the railroad. You needn't keep step, nor nothin' o' that sort. I reckon the cheese-knife and the shooter are too heavy for a young feller like you to kerry, and I'll tote 'em for you," continued the bridge foreman, as he began to examine the lock of the carbine.

"You are very kind, Mr. Kipps," replied Deck.

"That's me all over when you use me well; but, my little lion, if you should take into that small coon's head o' yourn to be ongrateful for my kindness to you, and make a row, or try to run away, I should have to shoot you jest the same as I should a 'possum if I wanted a Christmas dinner in the woods. Is this thing loaded with ball?"

"Of course it is; it wouldn't be any better than a broomstick if it were not," replied Deck.

"I don't know as I see through this thing edzactly," said Kipps, as he continued to study the mechanism of the lock. "I've got the cartridges, but I don't see any ramrod. Won't you just show me how to work it?"

"Teach you how to use a carbine to shoot me with!" exclaimed Deck, trying to laugh. "You must excuse me, for that would be giving information to the enemy in time of war, and I should be court-martialed for it."

"Jest as you like, Yank; but if there is one load in the pipestem, that will be enough to put you out of the way of any court-martial. I reckon I see into it now; you put the pill in here."

"I haven't anything to say on that subject, Mr. Kipps; but if you should happen to shoot yourself with it, that would save some Union soldier the trouble of doing the job," added Deck.

"But we uns hain't got no time to fool," said the foreman briskly. "You'll let the cat out jest as soon as you see us by the wagon. You can start things now, and open up the cat-bag as soon as you git 'em started."

"What's all that gwine on down below?" asked Lank Rablan, as he looked cautiously by the end of the fence.

"Well, what is it?" demanded Kipps impatiently.

"They are all lookin' up hyer; and that feller with a squawrel's tail in his hat is shaking a white rag over his head as though he'd lost his senses, if he ever had any," Lank explained.

"No matter what it is! Go to work, and hurry up, Sykes!" said Kipps in vigorous tones. "Now, my little Yankee angel, jest move over to the other side of the track, and march lively!"

Sykes was already crawling along the bridge, lighting the fires he had prepared. There were not more than half a dozen of them, and they were soon blazing up, though in the bright sunshine they did not make much show. Deck followed Lobkill and Rablan, as he was directed, while Kipps, with the carbine in his hand, brought up the rear. The foreman changed his plan when he found that the attention of the soldiers below was directed to the bridge; and, still sheltered by the fence, the two in advance left the level of the track, and made their way along the slope of the embankment.

Deck was ordered to follow them; but as his arms were still bound behind him, he found it was a rather difficult matter to preserve his balance. Kipps spoke to him quite savagely, perhaps believing he was making a movement to slide down the slope to the field below.

"If you think it is an easy matter to walk along this steep bank with your hands tied behind you, just let Mr. Lobkill put you in the same condition that I am, and see how you will get along," replied Deck, as good-naturedly as before.

"There may be sunthin' in that. Jest hold still a moment," said Kipps.

Deck was glad enough to stop; for he was hardly able to keep on his feet, as the earth slipped away under him. The foreman unstrapped the fastening, and put the sling in his pocket, perhaps for the same use in the future.

"Now, little lovely, trot again; but don't you forget that I have got the hang of this shooting-iron, and the ball can trot faster'n you can."

The prisoner obeyed the order, and he was beginning to think that the foreman was a tolerably good sort of a fellow, aside from his politics. He followed his leaders; and he had now no difficulty in keeping up with them, for he could retain his balance as well as any of them. In a short time they reached the vicinity of the wagon, which stood in the field, with the six mules that drew it there fastened to the pole. The mule-driver was a negro, who was asleep on the grass by the side of the vehicle.

"Now, my little Yankee saint, we are all right, and in about three minutes and three-quarters that bridge will go up the air; or some on't will, and the rest on't will go the same way in smoke," said Kipps, as he seated himself on a disused sleeper, and took a black pipe from his pocket. "Don't you think we uns are right smart down this way?"

"I suppose you are;

'For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.'"

"But Satan didn't find any for you uns in the ranks over yonder, fur they've been idle all day," retorted Kipps with an explosive horse-laugh.

"But we whipped out a force of Texan Rangers over yonder, and I don't believe they have done running yet," answered Deck.

"Them Texicans is gwine to wipe you uns out 'fore they git done with you," added Lank Rablan. "I consayt they see'd sunthin' on the bridge, fur they was all lookin' that way when we left."

"There comes Sykes, and I reckon he can tell us sunthin' about it," said Kipps. "If anything's the matter down below there, I reckon we four had better go down and lick the Yankees out of their boots."

"Don't you do it, Mr. Kipps," interposed Deck. "They might hang you for burning the bridge."

"Wait till we hear what Sykes has got to say, and then"—

But the remark, brilliant as it might have proved to be, was interrupted by the explosion which was heard on the south road, and which had been the signal for Captain Dingfield to make the attack.

"There goes your bridge!" exclaimed Kipps, looking at his prisoner with a glow of exultation on his brown face. "Now I reckon you can see that your Yankee cavalry couldn't save it."

"I cannot see the bridge from here, and I don't know whether or not they have been able to save it. Wait till we get further news, Mr. Kipps."

"I reckon we don't stop here no longer, for we've done our work, and that bridge is burning lively before this time," added the foreman, as he shouted to the negro driver to hitch on his mules.

In ten minutes more the bridgemen had loaded themselves in the covered wagon, with all their tools and material. Deck was given a place under the canvas, while the four men were seated at the forward end. The negro started his team, and the prisoner had no idea where he was going.