The Drummer Boy Part 30

Frank, still not knowing how to reply, murmured that he was glad to hear it.

"Now, this is what I have been wanting to say to somebody," Abram went on, in a calm but suppressed voice. "I am going into battle to-morrow.

Don't think I am afraid. I have no fear. But of one thing I am tolerably certain. I shall not come out of that fight unhurt."

The smile which accompanied these words, quite as much as the words themselves, alarmed Frank.

"Don't say that!" he entreated. "You are a little low-spirited, Abe; that's it."

"O, no! I am not low-spirited in the least. My country demands sacrifices. I, for one, am willing to die." This was said with singular calmness and cheerfulness. But the soldier's voice failed him, as he added, "It is only when I think of her----"

Frank, powerfully wrought upon, endeavored in vain to dissuade his friend from indulging in such sad presentiments.

"Well, we will hope that they are false," said At.w.a.ter, but with a look that betrayed how thoroughly he was convinced of their truth. "If I go through safely, then we can laugh at them afterwards. But much may happen in these coming twenty-four hours. Now, I am sitting here with you, talking by these fires that light up the woods so. To-morrow night, this which you call me,"--the soldier smilingly designated his body,--"may be stretched upon this same earth, and you may talk in vain--it cannot answer you."

"We don't know,--that's true," Frank agreed. "But I hope for the best."

"And that may be the best--for me. G.o.d knows. And for her, too,--though I dread the stroke for her! This is what I want you to do for me, Frank. If I fall,--_if_ I fall, you know,--you will write to her. Send back to her my last words, with the book she gave me, and her letters. You will find them all in this pocket, here. Will you?"

Frank could not refrain from tears, as he made the promise.

"That is all," said At.w.a.ter, cheerfully. "Now, my mind is easier. Now, whatever comes, I am ready. Stay with me, if you like, and we will talk of something else. Or shall we read a little together?"

"I'd like to read a little," said Frank.

And he opened the book to these words:--

"'Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul.... Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall to the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; ye are of more value than many sparrows.'"

"How came you to read there?" said At.w.a.ter with a smile.

"I don't know," said Frank. "But it seems meant for you--don't it?"

"Yes, and it somehow makes me happy. Go on."

And Frank read,--

"'Think not I am come to send peace on earth: I came not to send peace, but a sword.'"

"That is for both of us, for all of us, for all our people to-day," said At.w.a.ter. "I believe it is the struggle of Satan against Christ that has brought on this war. To attempt to build up a nation on human slavery--that is Satan. And I believe, wicked as we are at the north too, that the principle of freedom we are fighting for is the opposite of Satan. And whoever brings that into the world, brings a war that will never cease until the right triumphs, and the wrong ceases forever."

Frank was astonished. He had never suspected that in this stiff, reserved soldier there dwelt the spirit which, when their tongues are loosed, makes men eloquent.

At.w.a.ter had roused up, and spoken with earnestness. But his glow pa.s.sed, and he said quietly,--

"Go on."

"'A man's foes shall be they of his own household.'"

There Frank stopped again, this time of his own accord. The words struck him with peculiar force.

"That is true too," said Abram; "of the nation, for a nation is a household; and of many, many families."

Frank studied the words a moment, and, after a struggle with his feelings, said in a hushed voice,--

"Did you know, Abe, I've a brother in the rebel army?"

"I did not know. I have heard you have one somewhere in the south."

"Yes, you have heard Jack twit me about my secesh brother. And I have been obliged to own he was a--traitor. And since I left home my folks have had a letter from him, in which he wrote that he was on the point of joining the confederate army, and that we would not probably hear from him again. So I suppose he is fighting against us somewhere."

"Not here, I hope," said At.w.a.ter.

"As well here as any where," said Frank. "I always loved my brother. I love him still. But, as you say, wicked as we are, Christ is in our cause, and----" Frank read,--

"'He that loveth father or mother more than me, is not worthy of me; and he that loveth son or daughter more than me, is not worthy of me.'"

"And I," said the boy, lifting up his face with a patriotic, even a religious, fervor in it, "I love my country, I love the cause of right and freedom, better than I love my brother!"

"With that true of us, with that love in our hearts," said At.w.a.ter, "we can dare to fight, and whatever the result, I believe it will be well with us. See what the book says."

And Frank read on.

"'He that findeth his life shall lose it; and he that looseth his life for my sake shall find it.'"

"That is enough," said At.w.a.ter. "I can bind that sentence like an armor around my heart."

"What does it mean?"

"It means, I think, that though wickedness triumphs, it triumphs to its own confusion, for it has no immortal life. But even the death of a saint is victory."

After that the soldier seemed inclined to relapse into revery. Frank thought he did not wish to talk any more; so he gave him back the book.

Abram put it in his pocket, and took the boy's hand.

"Good night, Frank," he smilingly said. "We shall see each other in the morning."

"Good night, Abe."

Frank left him. And At.w.a.ter, stretching himself upon the ground, put his arm beneath his head, and with the fire-light on his placid countenance, dismissed all worldly care from his mind, and slept peacefully.

XXVI.

OLD SINJIN.

At the foot of a pine tree, on a pillow of boughs, lies the old drum-major. The blaze of the bivouac fire covers him with its glow as with a mantle. But his face looks haggard and care-worn, and his grizzled mustache has a cynical curl even in sleep.