A LITTLE UNION SCOUT

A LITTLE UNION SCOUT




I


A young lady, just returned from college, was making a still-hunt in
the house for old things--old furniture, old china, and old books. She
had a craze for the antique, and the older things were the more
precious they were in her eyes. Among other things she found an old
scrap-book that her mother and I thought was safe under lock and key.
She sat in a sunny place and read it page by page, and, when she had
finished, her curiosity was aroused. The clippings in the old
scrap-book were all about the adventures of a Union scout whose name
was said to be Captain Frank Leroy. The newspaper clippings that had
been preserved were queerly inconsistent. The Northern and Western
papers praised the scout very highly, and some of them said that if
there were more such men in the army the cause of the Union would
progress more rapidly; whereas the Southern papers, though paying a
high tribute to the dash and courage of the scout, were highly abusive.
He was "one of Lincoln's hirelings" and as villanous as he was bold.

The girl graduate at once jumped to the conclusion that there was a
story behind the old scrap-book, else why should it be preserved by her
father, who had been a Confederate soldier? This idea no sooner took
shape than she became insistently inquisitive. As for her father, the
very sight of the scrap-book awoke the echoes of a hundred
experiences--long and dangerous rides in the lonely night, battles,
sharp skirmishes and bitter sufferings.

The story, such as it was, took shape in my mind, and I am afraid that
the young girl had small difficulty in persuading me to tell it. Memory
brought before me the smiling features of Harry Herndon, my life-long
friend and comrade, the handsome face of Jack Bledsoe, one of our
college mates from Missouri, and the beautiful countenance of his
sister, Katherine Bledsoe. These and a hundred other faces came
crowding from the past, and the story was told almost before I knew it.