Despite his remark: "It's a foolish war when old fools like me are out toting guns," the girls received the impression that Uncle Henry was enjoying himself. He was needed, like the young men, and he was doing a young man's work. Moreover, he could keep up with the young men, which was more than Grandpa Merriwether could do, he told them gleefully. Grandpa's
lumbago was troubling him greatly and the Captain wanted to discharge him. But Grandpa
wouldn't go home. He said frankly that he preferred the Captain's swearing and bullying to his daughter-in-law's coddling, and her incessant demands that he give up chewing tobacco and launder his beard every day.
Uncle Henry's visit was brief, for he had only a four-hour furlough and he needed half of it for the long walk in from the breastworks and back.
"Girls, I'm not going to see you all for a while," he announced as he sat in Melanie's bedroom, luxuriously wriggling his blistered feet in the tub of cold water Scarlett had set before him. "Our company is going out in the morning."
"Where?" questioned Melanie frightened, clutching his arm.
"Don't put your hand on me," said Uncle Henry irritably. "I'm crawling with lice. War would be a picnic if it wasn't for lice and dysentery. Where'm I going? Well, I haven't been told but I've got a good idea. We're marching south, toward Jonesboro, in the morning, unless I'm greatly in error."
"Oh, why toward Jonesboro?"
"Because there's going to be big fighting there, Missy. The Yankees are going to take the railroad if they possibly can. And if they do take it, it's good-by Atlanta!"
"Oh, Uncle Henry, do you think they will?"
"Shucks, girls! No! How can they when I'm there?" Uncle Henry grinned at their
frightened faces and then, becoming serious again: "It's going to be a hard fight, girls. We've got to win it. You know, of course, that the Yankees have got all the railroads except the one to Macon, but that isn't all they've got. Maybe you girls didn't know it, but they've got every road, too, every wagon lane and bridle path, except the McDonough road, Atlanta's in a bag and the strings of the bag are at Jonesboro. And if the Yankees can take the railroad there, they can pull up the strings and have us, just like a possum in a poke. So, we don't aim to let them get that railroad. … I may be gone a while, girls. I just came in to tell you all good-by and to make sure Scarlett was still with you, Melly."
"Of course, she's with me," said Melanie fondly. "Don't you worry about us, Uncle Henry, and do take care of yourself."
Uncle Henry wiped his wet feet on the rag rug and groaned as he drew on his tattered
shoes.
"I got to be going," he said. "I've got five miles to walk. Scarlett, you fix me up some kind of lunch to take. Anything you've got."
After he had kissed Melanie good-by, he went down to the kitchen where Scarlett was
wrapping a corn pone and some apples in a napkin.
"Uncle Henry--is it--is it really so serious?"
"Serious? God'lmighty, yes! Don't be a goose. We're in the last ditch."
"Do you think they'll get to Tara?"
"Why--"began Uncle Henry, irritated at the feminine mind which thought only of personal things when broad issues were involved. Then, seeing her frightened, woebegone face, he
softened.
"Of course they won't. Tara's five miles from the railroad and it's the railroad the Yankees want. You've got no more sense than a June bug, Missy." He broke off abruptly. "I didn't walk all this way here tonight just to tell you all good-by. I came to bring Melly some bad news, but when I got up to it I just couldn't tell her. So I'm going to leave it to you to do."
"Ashley isn't--you haven't heard anything--that he's--dead?"
"Now, how would I be hearing about Ashley when I've been standing in rifle pits up to the seat of my pants in mud?" the old gentleman asked testily. "No. It's about his father. John Wilkes is dead."
Scarlett sat down suddenly, the half-wrapped lunch in her hand.
"I came to tell Melly--but I couldn't. You must do it And give her these."
He hauled from his pockets a heavy gold watch with dangling seals, a small miniature of
the long dead Mrs. Wilkes and a pair of massive cuff buttons. At the sight of the watch which she
had seen in John Wilkes' hands a thousand times, the full realization came over Scarlett that Ashley's father was really dead. And she was too stunned to cry or to speak. Uncle Henry
fidgeted, coughed and did not look at her, lest he catch sight of a tear that would upset him.