Lily was interested in all the tiny wild creatures who lived along the mountain slopes, or made their homes near the creeks. She had queer names for many of these, calling the foxes “Sly-foot,” and telling Berry many stories of the cleverness of Reynard. “Some darkies knows jes’ how ter talk ter de wil’ animiles. Dey shure does, Missie Berry. Dey knows w’ot ter say ter de fox. Dat same ole mammy w’ot tell me ’bout de witch tree she know how ter talk ter a fox or a sheep, or to de hawks dat hover ’roun’. She say to Sly-foot: ‘Be yo’ a good fox, or be yo’ snoopin’ ’roun’ after chickens?’ an’ she know by de way de fox look dat he unnerstood. Mebbe de fox talk back, I dunno ’bout dat,” Lily would conclude soberly; and as the two girls wandered about the mountain trails Lily’s keen eyes were always searching path and thicket for a sight of some well-concealed nest or the hiding-place of tiny woodland creatures. Of each one of these107 she would have some story to tell, either of the way the birds built their nests, or of how weasels would spring from unseen coverts upon rabbits or squirrels.
Lily had made a rough bag of a piece of cloth that she had begged from Mrs. Arnold, and Berry noticed that the negro girl was always on the alert to discover and secure any feather that might drift across their path, or that had lodged on some wayside bush. Lily had fastened this bag to her belt, and not a day passed that some downy feather was not secured and safely put away. Sometimes she would be fortunate enough to discover a tiny red feather of the scarlet tanager, or perhaps a blue-edged quill from the blue jay, and on these fortunate occasions she would rejoice triumphantly. “Dat shure am fine!” she would exclaim with chuckles of delight.
“What do you want with all those feathers, Lily?” Berry would ask, but Lily would only nod and say:
“Jes’ yo’ wait, Missie Berry. Some day yo’s gwine ter be s’prised!” and after a while Berry ceased to question her, believing that the gathering of these tiny feathers was only another of Lily’s peculiar ways.
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Beside securing birds’ feathers Lily was always searching for the strong, pliant grasses that grew near the creeks. She would cut these grasses close to the ground with the greatest care, and tie them together. One day as the two girls climbed the slope toward Shiloh church Lily suddenly exclaimed:
“Dar! I b’en a-lookin’ fer cedar, and har it be,” and she left the trail and began to tug at the small trailing roots of a cedar tree. With the small knife that Lily always carried she cut and dug up portions of these roots, and then scraped off the soft bark, nodding and smiling her satisfaction. Berry’s mind was entirely filled with possible plans for visiting the blossoming red-bud trees at midnight, and with securing the necessary gifts by which the witches were to be made friendly and willing to answer her questions in regard to Mollie Bragg. A fine cake was not an easy thing to secure. The Arnolds’ store of sugar was now very small, and Berry remembered that, in order to make the birthday cake for Mollie, her mother had said they must henceforth be careful in their use of sugar. Beside that, Berry could not offer a good reason in asking her mother to make a cake.
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There was, however, no lack of honey in the mountain cabin, for, in the early autumn, Mr. Arnold had the good fortune to discover a “honey-tree,” a partly hollow tree where wild bees had stored up honey, and Berry remembered with satisfaction that her mother had declared it to be of the finest quality. The little girl knew she could easily secure enough of this store of honey to satisfy any witch. But Lily had declared that witches were not easily influenced to friendly deeds, and Berry felt that the cake must in some way be obtained, and as soon as possible; for, with the approach of spring, Berry missed Mollie more and more, and was eager to try any plan by which she might get news of her absent playmate.
At the beginning of March, the week after Berry first heard of the possibility of securing the good-will of midnight witches, Mr. Arnold received news that General Buell, in command of union forces in East Tennessee, had captured Nashville, the capital of Tennessee, and that General Johnston and the Confederate troops had moved southward to Murfreesboro. Thus, while the Confederates had won all the earlier battles of the conflict along the eastern line of defense,110 the capture of Fort Henry and Fort Donelson, and the taking of Nashville had restored the confidence of the North, and created vague terrors in the South.
Berry heard her father and mother discuss these happenings, and her father even declared that if General Johnston, with his army of 20,000 men, should join General Beauregard at Corinth, there would be 50,000 Confederate troops ready to meet General Grant’s army if he moved against such a stronghold.
“Where would Grant’s army come from?” Berry asked eagerly. “Would it march up the road from Pittsburg Landing? Oh! I could see it march from the big oak tree that hangs over the ravine!” she exclaimed eagerly.
“Very likely Grant’s soldiers may be landed at Pittsburg and march over the ravine road,” Mr. Arnold responded thoughtfully; “but, if they do, we may not know anything about it. Armies do not advertise the time of their arrival, my dear. And, for my part, I hope General Grant will choose another approach to Corinth. But you must promise me, Berry, not to go near the ravine road. Even now the Confederates may be on guard at Pittsburg Landing, and we111 must all do our best to keep near the cabin until we really know what Grant will do.”
Berry promised, a little reluctantly. Pittsburg Landing was so far from the hillside cabin that Berry thought the road from there to Corinth, that led through a ravine not far distant, would be safe enough, even with soldiers at each end of it; and if armies, by any chance, should march that way Berry felt it a great pity to miss so wonderful a sight, for she was too young to realize all the terror and suffering brought by war, and she had not the faintest idea how soon she was to be almost in the centre of one of the most terrific battles of the Civil War up to the spring of 1862: the Battle of Shiloh.
When her father spoke of General Grant’s probable advance against Johnston’s army, Berry’s thoughts were chiefly occupied with plans for a midnight visit to the Judas-tree, and she did not really believe it possible that troops might soon be on the march along those quiet roads near her home. It was now early March; Mrs. Ar............