Evening Star Newspaper, April 6, 1930, Page 97

WITTITT NN M LU RSN THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, APRIL 6, 1930. Normall Bell, who made the copies of Gen. Lee’s famous Order No. 9. BY MRS. JOHN C. MUNCE, Jr. URING the coming week, on / April 10, will be observed the sixty-fifth anniversary of one of f the most momentous occasions in American history, for on April 10, 1865, Gen. Robert E. Lee surrendered 1o Gen. U. S. Grant at Appomattox, Va, and brought to a close the greatest tragedy of Amer- ican history. Out of that tragedy was born a new national life in the unity of the United States of America, waich has grown until today it is a recognized giant among nations. Of that struggle there have been countless reminiscences, and to all who were reared in the South there have come down countless stories of the expericnces, tales of valor and A Shot in the began all over again. He was groping his way through a game in* which his only card was the puzzlement of Silvertip over his report of Dad's impossibly continued survival. In Silver- tip's mind, and there only, was the informa- tion MacShane had to get at. “She’s right worried over old Dad’s state of health,” he said. “He's a sick man all right.” “Seem feverish?” Silvertip suggested. “Might have been.” “Fever,” Silvertip said vaguely, “sometimes puts fellers to rememberin’ things that ain't happened.” “Yeah, that's so. Anyway, all of us fellers was glad to hear that Molly won't be left pen- niless, if old Dad makes a die of it.” “Well, come to that,” said Silvertip, cau- tiously now, “I guess she ain't goin’ to be out in the cold, at that, leastways not entire.” Once more MacShane stirred inwardly. Something was coming to the surface again. “Me and him——" said Silvertip, “me and him struck a—what was that?” “Aw. a varmint nosing.” With a great effort MacShane held his voice casual, *“You struck “Snoop.” demanded Silvertlp, “you hear some‘hin’?” It was the first time Snoop had been noticed. He visibly inflated. “Well, sir, I reckon I did.” “You're crazy, Snoop.” said MacShane. “I gu>ss I know when I hear hollerin’, Mac- Shane.” MacShane's eyes bored into Snoop with such force that the old fool quailed. Too late, he rallied brazenly to undo the harm he had done. “I reckon,” said the inspired Snoop, ‘that noise was my bear comin’ to life. He was only shot in two-three places, and maybe lyin’ out- side in ihe refreshin’ snow——" Again from the lcan-to came that long, half- human groan, but this time it broke at the end into an obscure gibbering of muttered words, half understood. The whisky that Mid- night Zachary contained was wearing off. Sil- vertip leaped to his feet and snatched up his rifle. His big voice boomed: “Somethin’s wrong around here! Somethin’s all-fired wrong! There was a peculiar ugly ring in the big meer's voice. He was charging toward the lean-to door. MacShane shot up like a released spring, and passed him in the second stride. When he had passed Silvertip and not before, his gun leaped into his hand. The cowboy deputy burst through the lean-to and hurled open the outer door beyond. Somehow, anyhow, Silver=- tip’s attention must be distracted from the black shadows within the lean-to. HROUGH the other door as MacShane flung it open came a whirl of snow, a deluge of cold, and the increased howl of the storm. Behind, in the cabin itself, the lantern wavered and dimmed, cowed by the strength of the blast, and the door at the front rattled as if some one were trying to crash in. Half crouched, gun in fictitious readiness, MacShane pointed the outer emptiness with every muscle. He looked like a setter who knews exactly where the game is at last. As MacShane had hoped, Silvertip was mis= i Dark sacrifices, and each family cherishes the me- mentoes of its own heroic participants. It was my good fortune to have known and loved one of those who had a very active part in the finale of the great struggle. As a boy, too young to take active part in the combat, veing only about 15 years old, Norman Bell of Norfolk, Va., feeling the call to serve Virginia’s cause, was attached to Gen. Lee’s headquar- ters staff as a clerk. In his later years he has many times told me of the tragic scenes of the surrender, and the writing of the now famous “General Order No. 9.” ON April 7 Gen. Grant sent his letter sug- gesting that Gen. Lee surrender, and Gen. Lee, after a council with his officers, asked for the terms. Gen. Grant replied, giving his terms as requiring: “All officers to give their individual paroles not to take up arms against the United States until properly exchanged; and each company or regimental commander to sign a like parole for the men of their com- mands. The arms, artillery and public prop- ery to be stacked and packed and turned over to the officers appointed to receive them. This will not embrace the side arms of the officers, nor their private horses or baggage. This done, each officer and man will be allowed to return to his home, not to be disturbed by the United States authorities so long as they ob- serve their paroles and the laws in force where they may reside.” After receiving Gen. Grant’s terms, Gen. Lee gave his secretary, Col. Charles Marshall, the instructions to draw up the general order, which Col. Marshall wrote as follows: Hdqrs. Army Northern Va. April 10th, 1865. General Order. No. 9: After four years of arduous service, marked by unsurpassed courage and fortitude, the Army of Northern Vir- ginia has been compelled to yield to overwhelming numbers and resources. I need not tell the brave survivors of s0 many hard-fought battles, who have remained steadfast to the last, that I have consented to this result from no dis- trust of them. But feeling that valor and devotion could accomplish nothing that would compensate for the loss that must have led; he towered behind the deputy, rifle ready for attack upon the outer unknown. Suddenly he raised his gun, aiming over MacShane’s shoulder at an imagined something in the . spruce. An instant panic shot through Mac- Shane. If a rifle shot shattered the perturbed air inside the lean-to, and Midnight suddenly became aware of where he was—— “Wait!” shouted MacShane into Silverjip's ear, and the rifle wavered and raised. MacShane pretended to raise his gun as if aiming; hesitated, aimed again, and at last lowered his weapon. “Whatever it was is gone,” he declared. He hauled the door shut. “Let’'s get back to the stove—I'm froze!" Old Snoop was already cowering over the stove again, but a long moment’s hesitation passed before Silvertip followed MacShane into the lantern-lit room. The deputy knew with- out looking back that Silvertip was standing puzzled, his eyes trying to pierce the lean-to's shadows. The deputy feared that Silvertip ‘would come and get the lantern, and with it make a successful search for the unknown, but when Silvertip followed him into the cabin at last, shutting the lean-to door behind him. the miner only stood vaguely with his back to that door, the rifle in his two hands. “Somethin’s wrong,” said Silvertip slowly. “Somethin’ queer’s goin’ on around here . ..” “You're nervous, Silvertip.” “Maybe,” said Silvertip, “maybe I am. Maybe it makes a man nervous to have two snoopin’ spies come into his diggin's and lie, and lie, while they know they lie. . . .” MacShane looked up sharply. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded. “I don't know what your game is, MacShane. Only that it's a queer one, the like of which I never see, I don't know what it is. But I'm goin’ to find out.” * MacShane stood up. “All right. down my cards, if you will.” Silvertip stood silent, waiting. “Ask me a question,” MdcShane suggested. “What do you want here?” “Pirst,” said the deputy, “I'm here to find out what Dad Young has coming from the Magpie Salt. Dad is an old man; he may never prospect again. He may or may not know what he’s talking about. I'm here to find out.” “What did he tell you?” “There've been rumors,” MacShane evaded, “that you salted the Magpie before you sold Dad half share.” . “Lies,” said Silvertip. “All right.”, MacShane knew that but little time was left. “Then what did you do with the gold you and Dad took out of the Magpie?” “You're a fool,” said Silvertip again. “You think a shaft brings in greenbacks that a man can cart away and hide? If there was gold in the Magpie, it would mean months of haul=- ing ore out or machinery in, one or the other. What gold was in the Magpic is in there yet. But there ain't any.” “Then you did string Dad?” “No. I bought back his share at the price he give for it just before he—before he went down to Underholt. He had the money, on him.” “One more thing. I've been talking to the assayer.” MacShane thought Silvertip's face changed ever so slightly: he dared not pause I'll lay attended the continuance of the contest, I determined to avoid useless sacrifices of those whose past services have endeared them to their countrymen. By the terms of the agreement officers and men can return to their homes and remain until exchanged. You will take with you the satisfaction that proceeds from the consciousness of duty faithfully performed, and I earnestly pray that a merciful God will extend to you his blessing and protection. With an unceasing admiration of your constancy and devotion to your country, and a grateful remembrance of your kind and generous consideration for myself, I bid you all an affectionate farewell. R. E. LEE, Genl FTER getting Gen. Lee’s approval he turned it over to Mr. Bell, who was a clerk, to have the necessary copies made, one for each corps commander. Mr. Bell made an extra copy, which was signed by Gen. Lee along with the others, and Mr. Bell retained this extra copy for himself. This he brought home with him. In the break-up of Gen. Lee's headquarters at Appomattox, when the flag which had flown over it was hauled down, it was cut up, and each man gct a portion of it as a memento of his part in the tragic occasion, and to Mr. Bell's lot fell one of the stars. On reaching home Mr. Bell gave his copy of “Order No. 9” and the star to his sister, Mrs. Walter F. Irvine. These she had very carefully framed so they would be preserved, and they hung in her house for many years. At the time of her death they passed to her son, Alexander Bell Irvine, who lives in Washington. In this case the direct mementos of so important an event are preserved, as they have never been out of the possession of this family. The following poem by Alexander Bell Irvine was inspired by the star from Gen. Lee’s flag: THE STAR OF LEE. It is just a small scrap of white cotton, Most crudely shaped like a star, And sewn on a bit of blue bunting, Which once formed the “Stars and Bars”; It is dingy and yellow and faded As well as our eyes can see, One of the stars from Gen. Lee’s headquarters flag, preserved in @ W ashington home. But it’s known the jull measure of glory, s For it was the Star of Lee. A It rose with the birth of a nation e Beneath Virginia’s bright skies; Baptized midst the flame of battle, With the blood of heroes who died; Angry, the seas that it traveled, Rough were the paths it trod, But the weary Gray Host that upheld it Placed faith in their Flag, Lee and God. It fell, but set in great splendor; It’s efforts were not made in vain, For Lee and his Star of Virginia Returned to the Union again. Now it hangs on the wall of my study And teaches this lesson to me, That Loyalty, Honor and Duly, & Are truly the Star of Lee. S S Continued From Sixth Page to be sure. “You've been bringing the samples down. How come those samples were sand that you couldn’t have got within 5 miles of jthe Magpie shaft?” 3 “Well, I was prospectin’ round,” said Hughes, terrific anger swayed MacShane. He was as certain now as any one ever was to be that Silvertip had swindled Dad Young, or murdered him, or both. He saw through it all; the discovery of real value in a shaft that Silvertip had thought worthless, Sivertip’s fak- ing of the samples after the mine had proved good and his forgery of a bill of sale after the death of Dad Young—perhaps by Silver- tip's hand—to clear his skirts and make the mine wholly his. Yet Silvertip’s alibi was watertight, as far as MacShane could see. “I can show you Dagd Young’s receipt,” said Silvertip slowly, “for what I paid him back. And on him you'll find—could ‘a’ found—what I paid him. That makes it my shaft. And no snoopin’ spies——" “Why,” said MacShane, playing his last card, “did you leave Dad’s body lying at the Magpie Salt?” Silvertip appeared to relax. “If he turned back to the shaft, after he left me here and headed for town, and if he died up there,” he answered smoothly, “then I know nothin’ about that.” 2 MacShane saw his only hope in a shot in the dark. “And why,” he said softly, “did you put Dad out of the way by means o'—" He didn't know, even as he spoke, what means of murder he was going to accuse Silver- tip of using. He didn’'t know, either, whether he was going to be able to divert the muzzle of Silvertip’s rifle long enough to draw, or whether Snoop, in case of accident, would have guts enough to plug Silvertip after the deputy was dead. “By means o'—" he hesitated. He didn’t know by what means. From the lean-to came a formless, scuttling noise, then, so suddenly and so violently that MacShane’s hair stood on end, the night was ghattered by a mad scream. It rang out ter- ribly and unmistakably, and, though it came from beyond the lean-to door, it took the op- posed men with an almost actual impact. For an instant the three—MacShane, Snoop and Silvertip—stood motionless, frozen like rab- bits by sheer force of sudden sound. Then Silvertip snatched the lantern from its hook in the upper beams. As he did so the lean-to gave out a swift, rending noise and its outer door was heard to crash open, as if charged by a steer. Silvertip shouldered into the lean-to with stiff steps breasting the un- known. A blast of stinging snow whipped their faces, and made the lantern quiver. By the light of its wavering glow they could see the tarpaulined bundle that Old Snoop had brought, but it was torn open now. For a long moment Silvertip stared. Then the lantern crashed to the floor. In the last flash of light before the broken lantern died, MacShane saw the miner’s rifle swing upon him like a striking snake. He gripped the rifle barrel in the dark, and though the smash of the rifle shot deafened him, and its flare seemed to scorch his face, he realized that he was not hurt. Silvertip’s great strength wrenched the rifle from the deputy’s grasp, and Mae~ Shane dropped to the floor. MacShane's sixe shooter was out now. In the moment of silence he deliberately turned his weapon to the roof, and fired twice. Old Snoop, alone in the faint glow of the stove, and buttressed behind such protection as the hot iron afforded, heard the lantern fall and saw fits light go out. In the dark, the shock of sound exaggerated by the close walls, Snoop heard a muddle of shots—perhaps three or four. He wasn’t interested in counting them accurately, just then. After a long pause he heard two more re- ports, this time outside in the storm, and, muffed in the snow and wind, he thought he could distinguish the diminishing rush of galloping hoofs. Then silence for a long time, while Snoop shivered and wished he was far away. At last a step sounded in the dark cabin. Snoop slumped behind the stove and closed his eyes. . . MACSBANE, regarding Molly Young across the stew that she has set before him, was thinking she had stood very well the news of her father’'s death. Because of certain inves- tigations, following the definite escape of Sfl- ertip Hughes, MacShane had not returned to Underholt at once, and, of course, the news had preceded him. “Is it true,” she asked him levelly, “that Sil- ertip Hughes—killed my father?” “I guess we’re not going to know,” MacShane answered. “He could have——' he broke -off. There was no use tormenting Molly with an account of the divers means of murder thed Silvertip might have employed. “Hughes is in Old Mexico by now. We have Midnight Zachary to thank for that—though it isn't likely that Midnight himself knows just how ke turned the trick. Silvertip’s runofit was pre luck for us all. It looks like an admission guilt, but if he were here we'd be worse of® than as it is. The way it is now, it's yows mine, Molly; and the gold is there all right. How much I don’t know yet, enough to make you rich, I guess.” - They looked at each other solemnly for a moment. ““There were things,” said MacShane, “that I aimed to speak to you about before this come up. " Now that you're rich, I guess they aren’t suitable any more.” He shoved back his untouched stew. *“I'll be seein’ you some time, I guess. I just want to say, if ever you need me, send for me. This is one hombre you can count on any old time, and no obligation either.” “Why—where are you going?” “Well,” he told her vaguely, “I think I'll be moving on, for a little while, I guess. .. .” Molly let him get as far as the door. “Larry MacShane!” He went back. “I don’t know,” she told him, “if there'R ever be a time that I need you around any more than I do right now.” - He stared blankly, “Oh, get out!” she exploded unexpectedly. “Ga on aY?yl I don't care if I never see you “No,” he said; “I've changed my mind. I'm} not going any place, not any place at all.” (Copyright, 1930.) 13 '