"None o' my business, Leftenant; but I reckon you'd better halt, and take a look at things ahead," said the sergeant in a very low tone to the commander of the force, which consisted of nearly, or quite, eighty men, or more than three-fourths of the strength of the Confederate company, allowing it to be full, as it appeared to be.

Deck promptly accepted the suggestion, and gave the command; for he had only the meagre information conveyed to him by Milton, and he knew nothing whatever of any changes in the situation since he left his companion; and in the space of an hour it was possible that the condition of things on the meadow was entirely altered.

In the same low tone the sergeant suggested that he had better dismount, and go with him to the boundary line of the forest, where he could see for himself the position of the wagon-train and that of the enemy. This was just what the lieutenant wanted to know, and he at once complied with the suggestion of his faithful friend. They went to the point indicated, keeping behind the trees; for Deck did not wish the Confederates to draw any inference from his appearance so near the scene of action.

It required but a glance for the young officer to take in the field of action, while Life was explaining all that he had seen, and especially the taking to the water, like so many ducks, of the enemy. The escort of the train were still laboriously using their shoulders at the wheels of the wagons; while the mules, six attached to each vehicle, were struggling in the mud, and were most unmercifully beaten by their negro drivers. A snail or a turtle would have beaten in a race with the train.

"They can never get out of that mire," said Deck.

"Never while they travel the way they are going now," replied Life. "They are headed for the Jamestown Road, for I cal'late they don't know nothin' about this road we come by."

"That's a lieutenant in command of the escort," said the commander of the re-enforcement. "I don't think he shows good judgment, for he ought to get out of that mire on hard ground the shortest way he can do so; but I suppose he concluded that he could not get his wagons through the woods without cutting away the trees to make a road."

"This road ain't down on the maps."

"But I see all there is to be seen, Life; and I don't make out why the enemy halts in the water, if they mean to capture that train, and they have force enough to beat the escort twice over."

"I reckon I brought 'em to a halt," said the sergeant, as he described the ruse of his orders to an imaginary force. "I cal'late that cap'n didn't mean to fall into no trap."

"It was well thought of, Life; now I am ready to return to my command," added Deck, as he started for his detachment.

The sergeant wanted to ask the lieutenant what he intended to do, or, in other words, to obtain his plan of battle; for the young officer was about as reticent as his father in matters of this kind. But he had formed his plan, and was thinking it over. The first thing he did was to send Milton, on foot, over to the wagon-train, advising the lieutenant in command of the escort to rest his men, and not exhaust his force with a useless struggle in the mud; for a force was at hand which would assist him in getting the wagons to hard ground.

Deck explained to the sergeant that he had been somewhat delayed, before he left the main road, by Captain Gordon, who had given him precise directions as to his course after he had finished the affair on the meadow, whether he was defeated or successful in his mission; for the rest of the squadron, with the remainder of the riflemen, were to proceed immediately to the south, where the aide-de-camp had work for them in that direction.

"Lieutenant Butters!" called Deck, as he rode to the head of the riflemen's portion of the column.

The late jail-keeper rode to a little opening in the woods, where Deck had halted, and received his orders. He then formed his command in line, probably animated by the drill in which he had been engaged for two days. He then numbered them from one up to thirty. The sharpshooters then dismounted, and secured their horses in the woods. They were again formed in line. The platoon of cavalrymen were at rest, and Life was ordered to dismount them, while Deck marched with Butters and his command in single file into the woods on the left of the road.

On this side of the by-path the dividing-line between the meadow and the woods extended due north about a quarter of a mile to a point beyond which the stream and the low ground reached nearly to the main road.

"I want to see the enemy," said Butters. "I can't station my men till I can see what they are to fire at."

"Then we must go nearer to the meadow," replied Deck, as the lieutenant of the riflemen halted his command, and he led the way, both of them keeping behind the trees.

A change in the situation greeted the vision of Lieutenant Lyon as he reached a position where he could see the stream and the enemy.

"The Confederates have dismounted!" exclaimed Deck, as he pointed to the enemy for the benefit of his companion.

"So much the better!" added Butters.

"Of course they intend to attack the escort of the train on foot," said Deck. "All the men of the company are not yet out of the water; but they are marching by fours, with their carbines unslung, and they will fire as soon as they get near enough. I must leave you now, Lieutenant Butters, to bring my men forward," and the lieutenant hastened back to the road.

Butters ran to the left of his line, and marched his force, with the thirtieth man at his side, or next behind him, nearly to the point of the forest, where he stationed the one with the highest number, and then one in reverse order, about six feet apart, till the first number was stationed within a rod of the by-road. He had measured the distance very well, for the centre of his line was a few rods from opposite to the enemy.

Deck was at the end of the road when Butters reached it. He was ordered to fire as soon as he was ready. He had told the men when they were placed to fire as soon as the one on his right had done so. With this rule, no two or more of the riflemen would aim at the same trooper, as they could not fail to do in a volley. The first four of the enemy, with two officers on their left, were moving toward the mired wagon-train.

Milton had by this time reached the escort, and delivered the commander's message. The force had ceased their labors, and placed themselves behind the wagons, though they had their muskets ready for use. The enemy marched without difficulty, for the sod where it had not been broken was tough enough to bear them up; but in places the wandering cattle had cut it up very badly.

Butters in a low tone gave his orders to the first man in the line to fire, and every one would do the same, down to the thirtieth man, without any further command; but he had his rifle in his hand, and he fired himself before he gave the order to the soldier on his left. The crack of rifles began, and followed each other in rapid succession. With the fourth discharge five men had fallen, including the foremost of the two officers on the flank, whom Butters had brought down himself.

Apparently not one of the sharpshooters missed his aim. They adopted the method used in the battle on the hill, and kept behind the trees, so that the enemy could see only the puff of smoke as each weapon was discharged, and the men were out of sight, or nearly so. Not less than twenty men had dropped, either killed or wounded. The sharpshooters were Kentucky riflemen, whose fame had been celebrated in story and song, and their weapon had been their plaything from their earliest years.

Suddenly a hoarse command was heard; but its meaning could not be made out till the men in column dropped upon the ground, and extended themselves at full length, with their feet directed towards the woods. At the same time another order was given nearer to the stream, and the troopers in the water began to remount their horses. The men in the meadow began to crawl back as hurriedly as possible to the brook. The troopers hurried their horses as much as they could in the water, and their progress was tolerably rapid.

The stream continued to extend at about an equal distance from the forest. The men on the ground continued to drag themselves like snakes on the sod of the meadow till they reached the water, and mounted their horses; but not a few of them were shot in their progress, though their position on the ground was not favorable to the aim of the riflemen. Deck saw that the enemy would soon be out of the reach of the rifles if they continued to follow the creek, and he ordered Butters to move his men to the left.

Butters sent the command down the line from man to man till it reached the thirtieth man, who led the file to the point. The riflemen continued to fire as fast as they could load their weapons, but still in the order designated at first. Butters at his first shot after the change of position had brought down the lieutenant in command near the head of the column; and he believed the captain of the company had been the first to fall by the ball from his rifle on the meadow.

The men dropped rapidly under the fire of the concealed riflemen, and an officer who had taken the place of the one near the head of the column in the water was evidently appalled by the havoc in the command. He shouted an order to his men, which could not be understood in the woods; but it was inferred when the men suddenly dismounted, and began to lead their animals, placing them between themselves and the forest.



CHAPTER XVII

THE OVERWHELMING DEFEAT OF THE ENEMY

Sergeant Knox had marched the platoon of dismounted cavalry to a position near the end of the road, in readiness to move to the assistance of the train escort, as ordered by Lieutenant Lyon, when he saw the enemy marching over the meadow towards the wagons. When Deck realized the havoc made by the sharpshooters in the ranks of the Confederate company, he suspended the command to move, and watched the flow of events from the woods. He saw the enemy on the meadow drop upon the ground, and those in the water remount their horses.

Leaving Life in command, with orders to move to the train if the enemy approached it, he made his way over to the point where he could obtain a better view of the troopers in the water. He found them wading in the stream, covered by their horses. Butters was a great horse-fancier, as well as a dead shot with his rifle, and had ordered his men by message along his line not to kill the animals if they could help it.

"You are not doing as much execution among the enemy as you were, Lieutenant Butters," said Deck as he came up with the head of the sharpshooters.

"I am not, for the Cornfeds have made breastworks of their horses," replied the volunteer lieutenant. "I ordered my men not to kill the poor beasts if they could help it."

"I think that was a mistake," added Deck.

"The hosses ain't Seceshers," replied Butters, not exactly pleased with his superior's criticism.

"But every one of the horses is doing more soldier work than any of the men; for he is saving his rider from certain death, and the soldiers can't do that for each other," replied Deck, made somewhat earnest by the tone of the commander of the sharpshooters. "I love and respect a good horse as much as you do; and I sometimes think Ceph, the animal I ride, knows as much as I do, and in his way more. Your men are the most skilful with the rifle as a body I ever saw or heard of. But those horses are not such as you raise in this part of Kentucky, or where I came from. They are mean stock, and though I am sorry to do so, I must order you to shoot the horses; for your compassion for the poor beasts has brought the action to a standstill, and we are doing nothing."

"I don't know but you are right, Lieutenant Lyon; at any rate, I obey your orders," replied Butters, mollified by the compliment to his men and himself, to say nothing of the praise of Kentucky horses.

"Your men have ceased firing," added Deck, who did not believe in any stay of a successful action.

"The men have come to the end of the line, and I have not started a new round," Butters explained.

"Then start it by bringing down the first horse at the head of the column," continued the Riverlawn lieutenant. "Tell the next man to bring down the soldier as the horse drops. Do you know the location of the horse's brain?"

"I ought to; I'm a hoss-doctor to home, and I've had to shoot 'em afore now when they got a broken leg, or were too sick to get well. You'll see whether I know where the brains is," replied Butters, as he raised his rifle and fired. "Fire at the man!" he called to the first number in the line as the animal dropped, splashing his former rider with water, which seemed to blind him; for he was stooping forward, more effectually to conceal his head behind the animal.

Number one discharged his piece, and almost instantly the trooper followed the horse. Butters went to the second rifleman, and ordered him to shoot the next horse, telling him the part at which he was to aim. He proceeded along the whole length of the line, instructing the even numbers to shoot the horse, and the odd the man. Not a man failed to hit his mark, and there was soon a gap in the column. Every officer had fallen, and a panic seized the privates as the death-line marched up the stream. They were brave men; but the horses and men seemed to fall as though they had been prostrated by bolts from heaven, and the men could not see their executioners.

Without any orders, unless the sergeants gave them, the men leaped out of the stream, and ran with all the speed the nature of the ground would permit. The deserted horses remained in the brook, and not another one of them was shot. Not only those who had been more nearly exposed to the deadly fire of the sharpshooters, but those who were far in the rear of them, fled from the field. Of course they had leaped out of the water on the farther side of the stream, and were running to the north, or in the direction of the road from Jamestown to Harrison, and were liable to fall in with the outskirts of General Thomas's camp.

Deck witnessed the utter rout of the company of cavalry, and he proceeded to thank Butters and his men for the very effective service they had rendered. They had fought the battle and won it, and the cavalrymen had done nothing to assist them. The lieutenant of the company of Unionists expressed his opinion loud enough to be heard by all the sharpshooters, that there was not another body of men in the whole country that could equal them in the accuracy of their aim. He should commend them in the highest degree to Major Lyon, and his report would be transmitted in due time to the general in command.

"I will leave you and your men here, Lieutenant Butters, to watch the enemy," continued Deck. "In about an hour or two send me a report of anything that happens about here;" and he hastened back to the foot of the by-road.

The battle had been fought and apparently won; for the Confederates were out of rifle-range in a very short time. A vigorous cheer was sent up about the time that Deck came in sight of the train, proving that they realized their own safety and that of the train. But the young lieutenant's brain was busy, though he ordered his command to return the cheer of the escort.

The wagons, over a dozen in number, were safe from the hands of the enemy; for they had enough to do in the vicinity of Logan's Cross Roads, as the roar of the cannon in the battle was heard in the distance. Deck was studying up some way to extricate the wagons from their miry plight. If he could but procure a sufficient quantity of boards or planks, he could get them to the hard ground. He asked Milton if any could be procured, and was assured that none could be obtained short of Jamestown.

He gave the order to march, and directed Life to go ahead, and select the most favorable ground for the passage. The lieutenant followed him at the head of his command, and reached the train in a short time; and though some of the soldiers had sunk in the mud down to their knees, they were pulled out of it. The lieutenant of the escort had renewed his struggle to move the wagons forward when Deck saluted him as he came out to meet him.

"Lieutenant Lyon of the Riverlawn Cavalry," said Deck, as he gave his hand to the officer.

"I need not say that I am exceedingly glad to meet you, for you have saved my men and the wagon-train," was the answer. "Permit me to present myself as Lieutenant Sterling of the Ninth Ohio Infantry."

"You have had a hard march from the pike so far."

"I have; the toughest time I ever had in my life, and I have seen some deep mud before," replied Lieutenant Sterling. "Without your timely aid, my command would all have been prisoners, and the wagons been in possession of the enemy. But I am bewildered at the manner in which you have done this thing. I did not see your force till you marched out on the meadow. I heard a number of rifle-cracks, as I judged they were, but I did not see a man."

"It was wholly done by a volunteer company of riflemen, attached to my platoon for this occasion."

"I saw the enemy fall when they started to march over here, and after they took to the stream; but I could not make out the force that fired the shots. There must have been a hundred of them."

"Only thirty of them; but I believe they did not waste a shot," replied Deck. "Will you oblige me by giving me the date of your commission?"

"Whatever the date of my commission, I shall cheerfully resign the command to you; for you have a larger force than mine, and you have fought the battle here that saved me, though you must have been outnumbered by the enemy. My commission bears date Dec. 27."

"I was commissioned two weeks earlier than that."

"Then you rank me, and I am very glad that it is so," answered Lieutenant Sterling; and he proceeded to inform his command of the fact, for all of them had been ordered to suspend work.

"Do you happen to know what any of your wagons contain?" asked Deck, who was ready to address himself to the task of moving the wagons to the forest road.

"They are loaded for the most part with rations for the troops, and grain for the horses and mules, with some general supplies."

"Do you know if there is any rope among the supplies?"

"The quartermaster-sergeant can answer that question better than I can," replied the officer.

"Plenty of it, Lieutenant," replied this man. "It is in the first wagon in the line."

"Bring out at least a hundred feet of inch-rope," added Deck. "You were not moving the wagons to the nearest hard ground."

"My aim was to get them to a road indicated on the map over in that direction," replied Lieutenant Sterling, pointing over towards the one by which the Riverlawns had come from Jamestown. "According to the scale on my map it is about two miles over there."

"That is very true; but, according to the fact, it is less than a third of a mile to the woods where we came upon the meadow."

"But it would take me longer to cut a road through the woods to the road than it would to wallow through the mud to the road."

"But there is a by-road through the woods to the main road."

"I am a total stranger here, and I did not know there was even a path through the woods," added the lieutenant from Ohio, as the quartermaster-sergeant rolled the rope out of the wagon.

Deck called his men, who had been thoroughly rested by their stay in the woods, whether they needed it or not. The long rope was uncoiled; and Life was directed to make the two ends of it fast to the end of the pole, and pass it out through the three pairs of mules. Sixty men were detailed to man the rope in two lines. This required a part of the escort, and the rest of it were ordered to stand by the wheels. The negro driver of the first wagon was told by Life to go to the rear end and push; but this was done only to get him out of the way, for his brutality had disgusted both the lieutenant and the sergeant, as both of them believed in kindness to animals. They had seen the beatings bestowed on the animals before; and Deck, looking through his glass, was satisfied that the mules did not pull a pound under the beating. Perhaps they were disgusted with the failure of their efforts to move the wagon, as well as by the blows heaped upon them.

Life patted them on the neck, and coaxed them, and he certainly succeeded in bringing them to a good-natured condition of mind.

"Now, boys, straighten out them ropes!" shouted Life to the soldiers who manned them. "Pull steady for all you're wuth! Now, my beauties! Hi! now! Come, my beauties!" said he, taking the nigh head leader by the head, and leading him along.

To the astonishment of the men looking on, this mule made a flying leap nearly out of his harness, and then pulled as steadily as a well-trained horse; and the rest of the team followed his example. Life seemed to have some hypnotic power over a horse, and it appeared that he had the same influence over the mules. The men tugged at the rope, and the wagon was hauled out of the mire.

"Keep it moving!" shouted Deck. "If you stop, it will mire again. Keep it a-going!"

The men seemed to regard the work as a sort of enjoyable farce; and they cheered each other along, and some of them took to singing. They did not seem to be exerting all their strength, but the wagon moved along at quite a lively pace. If they had stopped two minutes, the wheels would have sunk down into the mud.

"John Brown's wagon got stuck in the mud, And we pull it through the black miry flood, As we go marching on,"

sang the soldiers; and in a few minutes more they landed the first of the wagon-train high and dry in the by-road.

Here one of the riflemen was waiting for the lieutenant, being a messenger from Butters.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE FLAG OF TRUCE ON THE MEADOW

The soldiers thought it was nothing but amusement to drag the wagon out of the mud and haul it to the woods. Sixty men and six mules made comparatively easy work of it. It was nearly dinner-time, and Deck had ordered the meal to be served on the meadow to those that remained there of the escort. During all this time the heavy guns had been thundering in the vicinity of Logan's Cross Roads; and as the day advanced the roar was perceptible nearer, indicating that the enemy had been driven from the first field towards the south.

The men proceeded to eat their dinner from their haversacks, while the quartermaster-sergeant had taken rations from the wagon for the portion of the escort that had come over to the woods. As soon as Lieutenant Lyon had given his attention to the needs of his men and horses, he turned to receive the message of the rifleman. Life gave his personal attention to the six mules that had come over, and they were supplied with a very liberal feed of corn and oats.

"Lieutenant Butters directs me to report to you that the enemy are returning across the meadow, flying a flag of truce at the head of the column," said the rifleman when Deck indicated that he was ready to hear him; and only a few minutes elapsed while he was giving his orders.

"How many men are returning?" asked the lieutenant.

"They were too far off for us to count them; but we guessed there were about sixty of them, for they must have lost at least forty in killed and wounded, to say nothing of the latter who were not disabled. Lieutenant Butters wants to know what to do about the flag of truce."

"How far off are they now?" asked Deck.

"They were some distance beyond the stream when I left, about half an hour ago."

"Return to Lieutenant Butters; tell him I will be with him very soon, and ask him to send half his men, good strong fellows, to assist in getting the wagons out of the mire," replied Deck; and the rifleman left in obedience to the order.

The men and the animals were all busy with their dinner, and the presence of the lieutenant was no longer necessary for a time. He spoke to his orderly sergeant, who was eating his dinner with the mules, and started for the point, eating the contents of his haversack on the way. On his arrival he found Butters engaged in selecting the men to send over to the assistance of the cavalrymen.

"Gittin' wagons out of the mud ain't exactly the work for sharpshooters," growled Butters as Deck approached him. "But I have called for volunteers."

"It is the work of soldiers to do whatever is to be done," replied the cavalry officer, who was not pleased with the growl, or the tone in which it had been made.

"It is not exactly the work of sharpshooters to work in the mud," returned Butters, apparently unwilling to have his men ordered away from his immediate command.

"You are volunteers; and if you object to obeying my orders, you may march your men back to Millersville," replied Lieutenant Lyon with dignity enough for a major-general.

"Do you mean to send us back?" demanded Butters angrily.

Deck saw that, from the first, the lieutenant in command of the riflemen was afflicted with an attack of the "big head," and considered himself as the practical superior of the young officer who was his military superior by the order of the major commanding. The cavalry officer was not "puffed up" by his position, but he felt the necessity of maintaining his dignity as the chief of the entire force on the ground.

"I do not send you back, but I give you permission to retire from the field," added Deck.

"I should like to ask who has done all the work that has been done in this place?" demanded Butters.

"I admit that your men have done the most of it," answered the lieutenant, when the entire thirty riflemen had gathered near to hear the dispute; "but if you are not willing to obey my orders, I can get along better without you than with you. If you desire to retire from the field, I have nothing more to say."

"No! no! no!" shouted half the men.

"You can do as you please, Lieutenant Butters," added Deck, when he realized that a majority of the riflemen were with him.

They had seen Deck in the thickest of the fight at the hill, and heard all about his conduct in other actions from the members of the company with whom they had fraternized at the jail, and it is not stating it too strongly to say, in figurative terms, that he was the idol of the Riverlawn Cavalry.

"I was calling for volunteers, and meant to obey your order, Lieutenant Lyon," said Butters.

"But you objected to it, and there is no emergency in the present situation."

"Volunteers to work in the medder, walk over to my right!" ordered the lieutenant of the riflemen, though with very ill grace.

Deck's ideas of discipline were of the severe order, and it was against his principles to call for volunteers for any ordinary service, though proper enough for that of a desperate nature; for it was his opinion that soldiers should obey orders without any question, and he was on the point of countermanding the call, when every one of the riflemen rushed over to the side indicated.

"Lieutenant Butters, you will detail fifteen men for duty in connection with the cavalry, and send them over to the end of the by-road," said Deck in his usual quiet tones; and turning on his heel without another word, returned to his men, finishing his dinner on the way.

He heard some rather strong talk before he passed out of earshot, and it was plain the riflemen were giving their officer some points in military discipline. Not a word was said about the enemy; for Deck saw that they were still at a considerable distance beyond the creek, and he intended to return as soon as he had started his force for the other wagons. The fifteen volunteers promptly appeared. The removal of the wagons from the meadow was given in charge of Sergeant Knox, and Deck went again to the point where Butters was waiting for him.

"I reckon I was wrong in the little muss we had a while ago; but I'm ready to apologize for it," said the commander of the riflemen. "I hain't got used to strict military discipline; but I shall be all right after this."

"It isn't necessary to say anything more about that matter," replied Deck. "The Confederates that you defeated so handsomely have reached the stream; they are still showing the white flag."

"I reckon they are in a bad way; but I don't see what they come back for," added Butters, pleased to find that the lieutenant had nothing more to say about his insubordination.

"Let your men take their rifles and follow me," added Deck, as he began to descend the slope to the meadow.

"Hallo! Hallo!" shouted a voice in the direction of the by-road.

"That's a man in uniform," said Butters, as he discovered the person.

The cavalry lieutenant reascended the bank, and saw the individual in uniform. Without saying anything he hastened towards him.

"I am exceedingly glad to see you, Captain Woodbine," he said, as the aide-de-camp extended his hand to him. "I am greatly in need of advice from a person of your experience."

"But you seem to have done exceedingly well without any advice so far; for the sentinel in the road informed me that you had saved the wagon-train, had defeated a company of Confederate cavalry, and brought one of the vehicles to the hard ground by an expedient of your own," continued Captain Woodbine, still shaking the hand of the lieutenant. "I see that boys sometimes become men of experience all at once, when an emergency is presented to them."

"I have done what I could here," replied Deck, studying the soil under his feet.

"With twenty years' experience no one could have done better," said the captain heartily; "and not many could have done so well. But I suppose you would like to learn something about the battle which is still in progress, though the enemy have been driven a considerable distance to the southward."

"We have been hearing the heavy guns here since we reached the meadow, and I should be very glad to know the result, for I hope our squadron will have some hand in the fight," replied Deck, looking with interest into the face of the visitor.

"You have already had some hand in it, for you have rendered one company of Confederate cavalry hors de combat, and saved that supply-train; and the general has had some anxiety about it, for it would be a godsend to the enemy, half starved as they are. Thus you have rendered a double service to our army. But what are you doing over here?"

"I will show you in a few minutes," answered Deck; and he gave a brief account of the action with the enemy in the meadow and in the creek, and their final flight to the north. "I don't understand why they are coming back under a flag of truce."

"I understand it very well. If they had gone as far as the woods you see about a mile beyond the creek, they would have come on the flank of our army; and very likely they were fired upon, and compelled to retire, for the battle is still raging in and beyond that wood."

"I conclude that they want to surrender; and sixty prisoners of war, with their wounded, would be an encumbrance to me," added Deck, as they reached the border of the meadow.

"What were you about to do when I came, Lieutenant?" inquired the captain.

"I was going out to the spot by the stream where the bearers of the flag have halted."

"Can't the man in command of the riflemen do that?"

"I would not trust him with such business," replied Deck. "He is a good enough sort of man, but he is troubled to some extent with the malady called the 'big head,' and he is an ignorant fellow, and his greatest virtue is his skill with his rifle."

The aide-de-camp went to as open a place as he could find, waved his cap over his head, and then beckoned vigorously for the enemy's cavalrymen to come to the wood. He repeated the sign several times, and then they crossed the stream and moved towards the point.

"That's all right," continued Captain Woodbine, as he took the lieutenant by the arm, and conducted him out of the hearing of the riflemen. "This matter is delaying me; but I think we can manage it. I have received a messenger from the general, who was the bearer of a letter, hastily written with a pencil on the field, to the effect that the enemy has been beaten, and are falling back. He believes that it will be a rout before night; and the First Kentucky Cavalry has been sent over here to harass the defeated army of Zollicoffer, who was killed on the field."

"That is all good news," said Deck.

"But the end has not come yet. I was sent over here on account of my knowledge of the country, to convey the general's orders to such commanders as I might meet; and while I am delaying here I am afraid the Kentucky regiment will pass the head of the by-road, and I shall fail to see the commander."

"But I can send one of these riflemen to the main road, with a written order to await the arrival of the regiment, and direct the force to wait," suggested Deck.

"Call up the messenger," added the captain, as he proceeded to write the order in his memorandum-book; and it was sent by the mounted rifleman.

"The general feared that a flanking force might have been sent over by Zollicoffer by this road; and that is the reason that I asked the general for the use of your squadron. He particularly charged me to help along the wagon-train if it was not already captured, as it certainly would have been if the lieutenant commanding the escort had not taken to the meadow. Now I am in haste to get your squadron and the rest of your regiment, for you belong to it, in a position where this force will be available in checking the retreat of the enemy, and you may have more fighting to do before night, or in the evening."

At this moment Lieutenant Sterling of the train escort touched his cap to his senior in rank, and reported that the wagons had all been hauled to the woods, and were in the by-road.

"How many men have you, Lieutenant?" asked the captain.

The chief of the escort looked at Deck, and did not answer at once.



CHAPTER XIX

THE RIVERLAWN CAVALRY ON THE FLANK

The aide-de-camp was a stranger to Lieutenant Sterling, who therefore hesitated to answer such a question; but Deck immediately introduced him to the staff-officer, adding that he had saved the wagon-train from the enemy by taking to the meadow, and had brought it over a mile through the mire.

"You have done well, Lieutenant Sterling, and I will mention the matter to the general," said the captain.

"Thank you, Captain Woodbine. I have forty men, besides the quartermaster-sergeant and thirteen mule-drivers," added the chief of the escort very respectfully.

"You are a commissioned officer?"

"I am, Captain."

"You may retire, but remain within call."

"The presence of this officer solves the difficulty," continued the aide-de-camp. "He has to conduct his wagons within our lines, and he can take charge of the prisoners after you have disarmed them. They do not seem to be disposed to fight, and the escort is sufficient. They will be here in a very short time. Lieutenant Sterling!" he called.

This officer hastened back to the point, and saluted the captain; and this time he noticed the gold cord of a staff-officer on the sides of his trousers, which had been concealed before by a clump of bushes in which he stood. He had been an officer in the regular army, a West Pointer, who had resigned in "piping times of peace."

"I have to assign you to an important duty in addition to your present service, and I have no doubt you will perform it as well as you have the conduct of the wagon-train," said Captain Woodbine.

"I should certainly have been captured if Lieutenant Lyon had not fought and beaten the enemy's cavalry," replied the chief of the escort.

"It would not have been your fault if you had been. What is left of the enemy will be placed in your charge, and you will march them to our lines beyond Jamestown. They will be disarmed as soon as they come in," said the captain.

Lieutenant Sterling was then sent over to the road with a message to Life Knox to march the cavalry, dismounted, to the point, and to bring over his own men, except a guard for the wagons and the horses. They were on the ground as soon as the Confederates reached the forest. They came on foot, and left the horses where they had been abandoned.

An orderly sergeant, as he appeared to be from the chevrons on his arm, advanced and asked for the commanding officer; and Deck was pointed out by the riflemen, as his men ascended the bank to the solid ground. He presented himself to the lieutenant, and saluted.

"I am Sergeant Pfeffer, and we desire to surrender, for we can do nothing more," said he.

"Where are all your commissioned officers?" asked Deck.

"They are all killed or badly wounded," answered the sergeant.

"How many men have you now?"

"Fifty-eight; and we started out early this morning with a full company," returned Pfeffer, with no little bitterness in his tones.

"You will march your men in single file along this bank, and deposit your arms of all kinds on the ground," said Lieutenant Lyon.

He directed Life to supervise the ceremony, sending the weapons by his own men and the riflemen to the wagons; and the quartermaster-sergeant was directed to load them in the vehicles. Deck hurried the business, for the aide-de-camp was impatient at the delay. As soon as this duty had been accomplished, and Lieutenant Sterling was thus in condition to handle the prisoners, Deck ordered the cavalrymen and the riflemen to return to the road, mount their horses, and form in the usual order, in column, under the command of Sergeant Knox.

Captain Woodbine instructed Lieutenant Sterling to have the prisoners, under a guard of his own men, bring in the wounded, bury the dead, and lead their horses to the forest. He was told to be very cautious, and to shoot any prisoner who attempted to escape or make any serious trouble. With forty men, armed with muskets of the best quality, the captain declared that he could control the greater number of prisoners.

The aide-de-camp, who may take command of any body of troops in the field if he finds it advisable to so, and Lieutenant Lyon hastened to their horses, and mounted, and the column moved up the road. Lieutenant Sterling proved himself to be a man of energy and determination. He drew up his command around the prisoners, and then addressed them. He told them what they were to do, and warned them that any man who attempted to escape, or offered any opposition to his orders, would be summarily shot.

Forming the remains of the company by fours, with his own men on the flanks, he marched them to the stream. They were first required to dispose of the dead and wounded, who numbered over forty, and to do what they could to aid the latter. Quite a number of them who had not been disabled had been hit and more or less injured, and the lieutenant had excused the worst cases from duty.

The horses were all led to the point, and the wounded who were able to ride them were mounted. It was late in the afternoon when the cumbersome column was ready to move. Lieutenant Sterling's infantry had worked hard all day, and were considerably fatigued by their hard labor at the wheels of the wagons. He mounted the best horse he could find, and gave a steed to each of his men. A horse was also given to each wounded prisoner able to ride him; but the others were required to go on foot, for the officer would not trust them with horses for fear they might attempt to escape.

The prisoners had the head of the column, the mounted ones in their rear, with a file of the mounted infantry on each flank of them. The wagons completed the column, with guards on each side of them, mounted like the others. Each vehicle had a led horse behind it; for there were more of them than of prisoners. The lieutenant, mindful of the instructions of Captain Woodbine, kept a careful watch over his charge, riding up and down the line on both sides. In due time, though not until in the evening, he delivered the wagon-train to the chief quartermaster at the camp, and the prisoners to the provost marshal. He was highly commended later for his efficient service.

It would require a whole volume to give the details of the battle, as it began in the early morning, and continued with more or less intensity till evening, when the enemy were driven back to their intrenchments on the Cumberland River. General Thomas cannonaded till dark, and he intended to storm the works the next morning.

Lieutenant Lyon's command, accompanied by Captain Woodbine, reached the Millersville Road in the middle of the afternoon, where they found a portion of the First Kentucky Cavalry waiting for them, detained there by the written order of the aide-de-camp. The column was reformed, and marched with all haste for a distance of two miles, where the captain turned into another by-road, made by teams hauling out wood from the forest, and running parallel to the one by which the force had reached the meadow, and nearly to the pike.

At a point on this road Captain Woodbine had sent the companies in advance of the First Kentucky, by what looked like a cattle-path, to a position in the woods where they might intercept the retreating enemy, or at least annoy them. The Confederates were moving to the south by the pike and each side of it, the infantry passing through the miry region. The Riverlawn portion continued on the same road till they came in sight of the intrenchments on the north side of the Cumberland, where the rear of Major Lyon's command was drawn up.

At this time in the afternoon no considerable portion of the enemy had advanced near their intrenchments, and there appeared to be nothing for the squadron to do. The major wanted to know what his son had been doing; and Deck gave him a brief account of his operations at the meadow. Not a man had been lost in the affair, which had been fought by the sharpshooters behind the trees near the point. The artillery's guns were still booming on the air in the distance.

Captain Woodbine had chosen the position to be occupied by the squadron; and he had sent the remainder of the regiment to which it nominally belonged to a point farther north, for reasons of his own which he did not explain, but probably he desired to keep the Riverlawns by themselves.

The riflemen were now reunited; and while Deck was telling his story to his father, Captain Woodbine conducted the body, now under the command of Captain Ripley, from the hill behind which the two companies of cavalry were stationed, so that they could not be seen by the enemy, to another hill which commanded the pike and the meadow. Here he posted them, and gave the commander his orders.

From this height the sharpshooters could harass the enemy retreating over the pike, and also the two regiments of infantry retiring over the low ground, the first of which was within twenty rods of the hill. It was evident that it was marching towards ground to the west of the hill, where the ascent was less difficult. They were within range of the riflemen, and the fight in this section of the field was extremely likely to begin here. But the First Kentucky Cavalry was posted near them, and would be obliged to bear the brunt of it.

Captain Woodbine went to these troopers, and moved them to a more favorable position, where they could support the sharpshooters; for they were nearly, if not quite, as efficient as a battery would have been in the same place. Directly in front of the Riverlawn Cavalry was a hill overlooking the intrenchments of the enemy, which sheltered the command from the guns if they were fired in that direction; and the aide-de-camp rode his horse up the declivity, which was partially covered with trees.

Then he dismounted, hitched his horse, and placed himself behind a tree, where he could see all the force he had taken under his command, and all the approaches of the enemy who were hurrying down the pike and on both sides of it. Just then he wished he had half a dozen regiments of troops, for he believed that with a sufficient force he could cut off the retreat of the enemy to his works.

He had five companies of cavalry and fifty-six riflemen, less than a single regiment; and he could only impede, but not check, the retreat. Major Lyon surveyed the country around from all points; and when he saw the captain on the hill, he ascended it in order to make a startling proposition to him.

"We are within half a mile of the enemy's intrenchments, Captain Woodbine," the major began.

"Hardly as near as that, Major," replied the aide-de-camp.

"A quarter of a mile would make no difference with my plan."

"Ah, then you have a plan?" replied the captain with a smile.

"I am not an engineer, as I believe you are; but I have been looking over those earthworks. I see a place where I believe I could ride my squadron over them; and I presume there is not a large force there, for it has the river on one side. We have something less than six hundred men, all mounted, and I fancy we could ride over the artillerymen it contains."

"I don't believe you could get into the works, in the first place," returned the captain with a laugh. "If you did get in, you would find yourself outnumbered two to one."

"I should be willing to feel of them, at any rate," added the major.

"Do you suppose a general with ability enough to command an army of five or six thousand men would be so stupid as to march from his intrenchments, and, going away ten miles to attack another army, would leave his base of retreat insufficiently manned?"

"I supposed they would have been sending up re-enforcements to the battle-field all day; and they could not have done that without reducing greatly the number in the works. However, I am not a very experienced soldier, Captain Woodbine, and I am willing to admit that I should not have undertaken the enterprise on my own responsibility," replied the major.

"Of course it may be possible that the garrison within the fort has been reduced to a number equal, or even less, than your force; but I should say it would be foolhardy in the extreme to make such a venture without a certain knowledge of the extent of the force behind the breastworks. But the riflemen have opened on the regiment nearest to them," added the captain, as the crack of a rifle was heard on the other hill, not more than a quarter of a mile distant.

Other shots followed in rapid succession; but they were fired one at a time, in accordance with Captain Ripley's tactics.



CHAPTER XX

THE FLOWING TIDE OF THE ENEMY'S RETREAT

Both of the officers on the hill brought their field-glasses to their eyes, and directed them to the regiment in the meadow, which was having more difficulty in advancing than before; for near the higher ground the cattle had cut up the sod much more than farther off. The men scattered about more in their efforts to avoid the soft places.

"Those men fire with remarkable precision," said Captain Woodbine. "A soldier drops at every shot they fire, and they discharge their rifles at the rate of at least ten shots a minute."

"They can't stand that long," added the major.

As he spoke, the regiment broke into a run for the woods. They gave no further attention to the picking of their way, and struggled in the mire towards the high ground; but the merciless riflemen did not suspend their fire, and the soldiers continued to fall as the regiment advanced. In a few minutes it looked as though half the first company had fallen, either killed or wounded.

The second company, and those in the rear of it, faced about, and retreated; and, having a better sod than those nearer the hill, they ran with all the speed they could command, though some of them sank down in the mire, and were pulled out by their companions. When they had fallen back out of rifle-range, they directed their flight towards the pike.

The regiment in the rear halted when they saw the flight of the one in front of it. It was too far off for accurate firing. The men seemed to be appalled at the flight of the other regiment; and through their glasses the two officers could see that the commanding officer was making a speech to his men, but neither of them could see the extent of the casualties of the retreating command.

Doubtless the colonel of the regiment, ashamed of the conduct of the fleeing infantry, was rallying his men for the advance; for presently it resumed its march. But at that moment a new factor in the contest was presented to the aide-de-camp. The roar of a heavy gun was heard in the direction of the intrenchment, and both of the spectators on the hill looked in that direction. A cloud of smoke rose in the air, and at the same moment, almost, the explosion of a shell was seen on the riflemen's hill. The branches of the trees were cut off and twisted, and the sharpshooters rushed down the declivity as though their own weapons had been turned against them.

"Those riflemen have probably never been in a battle before," said the captain, apparently unmoved by the sight that greeted his eyes.

"I should hardly expect to see them stand up against that sort of thing," added the major. "I never saw a shell explode before, and it must be very trying to the nerves of an inexperienced soldier."

"He gets used to it after a time. But that shell must have killed or wounded some of Captain Ripley's command, though neither shells nor bullets are so destructive to human life as they appear to be at first."

"I don't understand how that shell happened to be fired into the hill, for they could not see into the meadow where so many have fallen," said the major.

"The information was probably sent into the fort by some officer on duty on the pike, near the earthworks, with an order to shell the second hill. But I think you had better return to your command, for your cavalry may be wanted at any time," suggested the captain.

"That colonel has rallied his men, and they are now marching very steadily towards the higher land," said the major, as he rose from the seat on a rock he had occupied.

"Ripley has done better than I expected, and he appears to have placed his men again. No doubt the bursting of the shell so near them startled his force, and the riflemen fled from impulse," continued the staff-officer. "But he is a brave old man, at any rate; for he has mounted to the highest point of the hill, and he is watching the fort with all his eyes. It is a dangerous position, and I am afraid there will be a military funeral soon at Millersville."

But he was shielded by a large tree on the summit of the hill in the direction of the enemy, and was giving his whole attention to the intrenchments. The captain was observing the regiment which was now rapidly approaching high ground, though it had moved much farther from the pike than the first.

The major had mounted his horse, and was about to rejoin his squadron.

Before he started, and when the approaching force was beginning to mount the bank, the rifles were heard again, and the leading men of the first company dropped from the bank. Not more than three or four shots had been fired before a tremendous yell was heard coming from the riflemen's hill, and the sharpshooters fled down the slope. It appeared as though Captain Ripley had watched the fort for a purpose, and, when he saw the flash of the great gun, had ordered his men to run, and they had done so. They had no time to spare, but they had a second to spare before the shell exploded.



It did not appear that any one was hurt; at least, no one fell. The captain observed the riflemen with the utmost intensity; and as soon as the missile had spent its power, the men sprang part way up the hill, and placed themselves behind the trees. The first company had obtained a footing on the hard ground, and the first thing they did was to form and march at the double-quick towards the hill from which the death-dealing balls had come.

Major Lyon was a prudent as well as a brave man, and he galloped his horse away from the spot with all decent celerity; for to remain there another minute was almost certain death. The staff-officer was too old a soldier to get excited at such a time, but he kept a tree between himself and the approaching company of Confederates. The riflemen opened before the company could fairly form; and, as the distance for such riflemen was insignificant, a man fell with every rifle that was fired.

The fall of these men in the first rank, every one of whom was dropped, seemed to madden the men behind them, and they rushed forward on the run; but Ripley's policy was most disastrous to them, for the second rank of four soldiers fell, either killed or badly wounded. At this time Major Lyon, in obedience to an order from Captain Woodbine, with his entire squadron galloped upon the scene of action. Captain Gordon charged into the first company of the regiment of infantry.

The first platoon, under Lieutenant Belthorpe, struck the head of the column as it hastened forward to dislodge the sharpshooters, whose fire was so destructive to them; and Lieutenant Lyon, with the second platoon, took the company on the flank. This charge, so far as the first company of the Confederates was concerned, threw the riflemen out of the battle; for their bullets were in danger of bringing down some of the blue as well as the gray.

Captain Ripley perceived this difficulty, and ordered his men, as usual, by passing the word from mouth to mouth along his line, for his men to give their attention to the second company of the enemy's infantry, which had just begun to mount the bank from the low ground. Colonel Wolford, in command of the First Kentucky Cavalry, was in another part of the field, pursuing the retreating regiments in their ten miles of flight from the hills, where the brunt of the action had been fought; and Major Lyon was in charge of the detachment sent to assist in flanking the enemy in this quarter.

The staff-officer had ordered up this cavalry. He had mounted his horse, and given the order in person, going on the field in actual command of the force, leading it to the point where the second company were mounting the bank. Portions of the enemy's army had been well drilled, though this could not be said of all; and General Crittenden in his reports lamented the want of discipline in some of his regiments. General Schoepf was more emphatic and decided in regard to this same want of drill on the part of the Union mounted men. In the report of a skirmish he says:—

"The cavalry under my command, as usual, behaved badly. They are a nuisance, and the sooner they are disbanded the better.... Is there no such thing as obtaining a regiment of reliable cavalry? Such a regiment is indispensable with this brigade at this time. The absence of such troops has kept me in the saddle until I am nearly worn down with fatigue."

Such remarks could not have been made of the Riverlawn Squadron; for its men had been as thoroughly drilled as those in the regular army, and the character of its troopers was much better than the average. It is not strange that there should have been a foundation for the severe comments of the general in the case of men enlisted, and almost immediately hurried into actual service, as was necessary in some parts of the State, though his caustic strictures were not applicable to all the mounted men of Kentucky.

Such ruffians as those against whom the battle of Riverlawn was fought, at an earlier stage of the war, had found their way to a greater or less extent into the Union army. But, whatever might have been truly said of portions of the cavalry, it was not true of the companies of the First Kentucky Cavalry; for in spite of their need of more drill, they were brave and good men, and fought like heroes when they had their chance at the enemy.

Captain Woodbine led them into action himself, though he was ably supported by the regular officers. They made an impetuous charge while the riflemen were picking off the men in the rear of the actual fighting. The havoc was so great that the infantry could not stand it, and they began to fall back to the rear. Then they fled to the west, in spite of the efforts of their officers to rally them, as had been the case on the field in many instances that day.

The fierce charge of the Riverlawns was too much for the first company of the enemy, outnumbered two to one. This was the first time that the squadron had met infantry in the field, and their opponents were well drilled in resisting the attack of mounted men. But they soon began to fall back, and retreated to the hill where Captain Woodbine had observed the first part of the struggle. The cavalry could not operate to advantage here on account of the roughness of the ground, and the trees. They resorted to the carbine, and kept up an effective fire.

The first company passed up the hill; but it did not pause there, but began the descent on the other side, which would bring them to the pike, near the breastworks of Beech Grove. A shell burst on the sharpshooters' eminence; but Captain Ripley resorted to his former expedient, and the way was now clear for his men to retreat to the level ground below for the moment.

The second company of the infantry on the meadow had retreated to the woods, half a mile away, perhaps hoping to find a passage through to their works. At Mill Springs the Cumberland River makes a turn at right angles with its course below, flowing from the north to the south for about two miles. The Confederate breastworks extended across the neck of land formed by the river and a stream on the west for two miles. The camp occupied by the enemy before the battle was protected by water on three sides.

The example of the second company on the meadow was followed by the others, and for the present they were all out of the action. The first company appeared to have lost at least one-fourth of its men; but it had fought all there was of the action. The Riverlawn charge had disordered its men; but they had gone in tolerably good order up the hill, and had begun the descent of it, while the squadron were picking off the men with their carbines.

"Lieutenant Lyon, go around the hill, and take them on the flank as they come down!" shouted Captain Gordon.

Deck obeyed the order promptly; and his men were full of enthusiasm as they followed him. The roughness of the hill had impeded the movement of the enemy's company, and the second platoon of the cavalry was in season to attack them. The foot-soldiers used their bayonets, and for a few minutes there was a terrific struggle. But before any result could be reached, a mob of the enemy's infantry and cavalry rushed into the space between the road and the pike, carrying friends and enemies with it, as before the sweep of a tidal wave on a stormy sea.

This disorderly body, coming from the pike and from the field beyond, carried all before it, and the second platoon of the Riverlawns could not understand the cause of the sudden commotion. The roar of artillery, not distant from them, soon revealed the cause of the stampede. The batteries of the Union army had moved forward just before dark; and volleys of grape or shell would have made a fearful slaughter among the disordered bodies of the retreating enemy, and they had fled in the utmost confusion.



CHAPTER XXI

DECK FINDS HIMSELF IN A TIGHT PLACE

The enemy were utterly demoralized, crazed with terror, devoid of reason and common-sense. The Mississippi, Alabama, and most of the Tennessee regiments of the Southern army were disciplined and steady troops in which such a panic would have been impossible; but there were others even worse than those described by General Schoepf, and the latter were always in the advance during a retreat. It was such as these that formed the rabble seeking to obtain shelter behind the breastworks.

In the mob reason was dethroned, and even common-sense had taken wings; for the fleeing mass were in more danger from each other than from the fire of the artillery, and whole sections of them were borne down by those pressing forward from the rear, and were crushed by the feet of men and horses.

Deck attempted to resist the flow of the tide towards the works; but he might as well have tried to counteract the great bore of the Amazon. His sabre was in his hand; but he had not the heart to use it upon the terrified mass, who had thrown away their muskets and knapsacks on the field, because they impeded their flight. A battery of artillery in retreating had mired one of its guns in one of the soft places in the field, and had abandoned it, as stated by General Crittenden.

With his great strength, assisted by a few others, Sergeant Knox had striven to open a way for the escape of the platoon to their former position; but they struggled in vain against the crazy and senseless mob. A company or platoon of Confederate cavalry had forced its way into the crowd nearly to the ground occupied by Deck's force, though they had used their sabres to accomplish it. Life had pushed his horse forward in the direction he wished to go; but the mob seized the animal's bridle to save themselves, and, by stress of numbers, had crowded him back.

One of the openings in the breastworks was near the spot; and the rabble in front of the cavalrymen pushed forward, and entered the intrenchments, thus making way for those behind them. But that was not the direction Deck and his command wished to go, and they resisted the mob as long as they could.

"I think we shall have to use our cheese-knives," suggested Life, as they were crowded forward in the passage to the fort.

"No, Life! That would be a terrible slaughter of unarmed men, and I will not do it," replied Deck. "I would rather be taken prisoner than murder these helpless and terrified people."

"Threaten them with the pistols if they don't get out of the way," the sergeant proposed. "They are jamming us into the fort."

"You might as well threaten them with the pistols if they don't fly away up into the air, for they can't move," returned the lieutenant. "This is not a battle; only a struggle for life on the part of the retreating enemy."

Life said no more. The space between the platoon and the hill from which the infantry had retreated, and which Deck had attempted to flank, was full of men retreating from the grape of the artillery which had now opened upon them, full of struggling forms intent upon reaching the shelter of the breastworks. There was no passage there.

"Leftenant, the rest of the squadron is formed near the hill, and they are draggin' in squads of prisoners," said Life Knox.

"Are they using their sabres?" asked Deck.

"No; they have sheathed them, and all they do is to shove 'em in like city policemen."

"Neither the staff-officer nor my father would shoot or cut down unarmed and unresisting men; but perhaps they expect to capture the whole army at a later hour. I can't do what they will not do," added the lieutenant. "But"—

He did not say what he intended, for the cavalry company, which had forced its way into the midst of the crowd, began to drive their horses forward, the rabble behind them pressing on in that direction. The pressure was too great for the Riverlawns to withstand, and they were pushed forward in spite of their best efforts to hold their ground.

"We might as well go with the tide, Life," said Deck hopelessly, as he gave way to the pressure.

"No man can help hisself here," replied the sergeant.

"We may as well make way for this rabble," added the lieutenant. "They will shove each other away from the entrance, and when the coast is clear we will take our chance of getting out of the fort."

Life Knox yielded the point; for, if they were not to cut their way through the crowd, this was absolutely the only thing they could do. They were pressed forward into the intrenchment. Deck observed as he gave way to the pressure behind him that the soldiers from the field, or near it,—for not a few had not been in the battle,—hastened from the entrance to the works, towards the middle of it; in fact, they were ordered to do so by the guard in charge of the camp, which extended for over a mile across the tongue of land formed by the Cumberland and the creek that flowed into it near Robertsport.

Lieutenant Lyon did not follow the example of the fugitives, and there was still nothing but a rabble near the entrance; and the guard, with its officers, were a considerable distance from him, and could give his command no orders. Instead of doing as others did, he led his force to the verge of the great river, down to which the high banks, amounting almost to cliffs, descended at an angle of about forty-five degrees.

The lieutenant could do nothing, but he kept up a tremendous thinking all the time. By this time he was conscious that he had been forced into a tight place. He reined in his steed when he had advanced perhaps the third of a mile across the camp, defended by the breastworks, and gave the order for his men to halt; but it was not spoken with his customary vim, for he was somewhat depressed by the situation.

He was in a Confederate camp, and all his powers of mind were directed towards the means of getting out of it; for it would have broken his heart to hand over his fifty men as prisoners to a Southern officer. He looked at the entrance; but that was as crowded as at any time before, and it was impossible for him to march out that way. Then he looked down the steep and lofty banks of the Cumberland. His horses and those of his troopers could swim like fishes; for it had been a part of the drill at Riverlawn to exercise the animals in the water, and they had often crossed Bar Creek with their riders on their backs, and they had even swam them over the Green River, though never in the rapids.

Deck considered a plan for descending the banks to the stream, swimming the horses a mile or two down the river, and then of escaping across the country to the position of the rest of the squadron. He was about to ask Sergeant Knox for his opinion, when the company of Confederate cavalry which had been next to his force outside the works rode over to the side of the camp he had chosen, and halted a few rods from his position.

But this body did not seem to be in a belligerent mood, and did not appear to take much notice of the platoon. Possibly they were ashamed of their conduct on the field; for they had been the first of the enemy's cavalry to arrive at the works, and they must have been among the first to run away. The men did not look like a fair specimen of the cavalry of the other side which the troopers had seen.

"We must get out of this place somehow," said Deck to the orderly sergeant, who had brought up a little behind him.

"I don't believe there is many more outside who want to get into this place," replied Life; "and I reckon the major will be looking this way for us, for he couldn't help seeing that we had been crowded in here."

"I don't see that he can do anything for us, unless he fights the whole force of the enemy outside; and I know they are not all cowards, like some of these fellers what worked harder to get into this fort than they would to git inter the kingdom o' heaven," answered Life.

"I don't look for any help from the rest of the squadron. If we don't get out on our own hook I think we shall have to stay here," replied Deck. "What do you think of escaping by the river? We can easily swim the horses down the stream a mile or two; for there is not much current near the shore, though it is strong in the middle of the river."

The sergeant rode over to the high bank, and looked it over in an apparently careless manner, so as not to attract attention, as far up as the great bend just above Mill Springs. He shook his head significantly as he resumed his former position.

"The swimmin' is all right after you git the hosses inter the water; but you've got to crack the nut afore you kin eat it, Leftenant."

"Is there any difficulty in cracking the nut?" asked Deck.

"I reckon that's whar all the diffikilty comes in. It has rained like Niagery for two days, and it has been doin' not quite so bad all this afternoon. Them banks is as soft as an Injun bannock half baked; and there ain't no foothold for hosses. I wouldn't resk it for two per cent a month," returned Life very decidedly.

Probably the sergeant was correct in his view, though Deck thought still that it was practicable. General Crittenden swam his cavalry over the river in the night, but some of his men and horses were drowned in the attempt. He found the descent of the steep banks a great obstacle to his retreat. But the crowd at the entrance to the intrenchment had diminished considerably, and the lieutenant began to think he could cut his way to it with less peril than he could swim his force in the river, especially as it was beginning to be dark.

Another circumstance came in the way of the execution of the plan. Perhaps the company of cavalry near him had noted the examination of the banks of the river by the lieutenant and the sergeant, and may have had a suspicion of what was passing through their minds. At least, it soon appeared that the captain of the company had other views in regard to the disposal of the Riverlawns. He had moved his command nearer to the platoon, and stretched it across the camp some little distance.

A little later, a mounted Confederate officer rode to this end of the line. He looked over the Southern company first, and asked to what regiment it belonged. Deck could not hear the reply in full, but only that it was a Tennessee regiment. Then he rode a little farther, and seemed to be somewhat astonished when he saw a force wearing the blue.

"What is that force in the corner, Captain?" he asked of the officer to whom he had spoken before, while he continued to observe the body in blue.

"It is a Yankee platoon of fifty men that we captured a mile or more from the breastwork," replied the Confederate captain; and it could be seen that his men smiled when he gave this reply.

"To what regiment do these troopers belong?"

"I don't know certainly, but I reckon it was a Kentucky regiment."

"How happened you to capture half a company, and not the whole of it?"

"Well, you see, Major, the Kentucky regiment had better horses than our Tennessee regiment, and they worried us a heap. We were retreating, for we had been flanked by a force four times as big as ours, and this regiment pursued us. Our regiment turned on them, and whipped them soundly. My company was fighting this platoon, and we surrounded them, and made them prisoners."

"Was that Kentucky regiment of cavalry full?" asked the major, with a frown on his brow.

"It was, Major, for I counted the ten companies," returned the captain without wincing. "This platoon fought like wildcats; but my men stood up to the work like heroes, as they are; and when we had surrounded them, they could not help themselves, and we drove them before us to the camp."

"I have no doubt that you will be promoted to the rank of brigadier-general for your meritorious service; but my information differs somewhat from yours, for I have learned that the only Kentucky cavalry on the field was four companies of the First, four others being on detached duty on the Millersville Road."

"But you see, Major, my informant may have given me incorrect reports," stammered the captain.

"Who was your informant, Captain? You counted the companies of the Kentucky regiment yourself."

"I may have been"—

"Probably you have been; but you have said enough. I have heard from your company before to-day," added the major, as he rode over to Lieutenant Lyon. "Did you surrender to Captain Staggers yonder?"

"I did not!" replied Deck with abundant emphasis.

"Did you hear what passed between him and me?"

"Every word of it."

"Was anything the captain said true?"

"Not a word of it! And you will excuse me, Major, but I intend to cut my way out of this camp!" shouted the lieutenant, loud enough to be heard by all his troopers, and they straightened themselves up for the work.

"Platoon—charge!"

At full gallop the force started for the entrance, now not obstructed.



CHAPTER XXII

A LIEUTENANT AMONG THE "MISSING"

Major Walthal was very gentlemanly and very polite; but it appeared at once that he was not willing to permit the escape of the platoon, good-looking and well-dressed as were the officer and the men. He could not help observing the contrast between the Riverlawns and the Confederate company near them. Captain Gordon, who had been the principal instructor of the squadron, was very neat and precise about his person, and had always required the troopers to keep their uniforms and arms and their horses, with their equipments, in good condition.

On the contrary, this particular company of the enemy presented a slovenly appearance; quite in contrast, also, with some other regiments of their army. The major was a soldier of the highest type, and he could not fail to see the neatness of the Riverlawns. Very likely he was sorry to prevent the young lieutenant from carrying out his intention to leave the camp; but his ideal as a military officer was to do his duty.

Deck's troopers had drawn their sabres; and, with Life Knox in front, they made an impetuous rush towards the entrance. The sergeant was even more in earnest than usual; his horse was well trained, and when his rider pressed his knees against his flanks, he darted off with fury enough to satisfy the determined horseman.

"Halt!" shouted the major; but he might as well have addressed the wind or the rain. "Surround them, Captain Staggers, as you did on the field! Cut off their retreat if there is any manhood left in you!"

He led the way himself, though he could do nothing more, for he had no sabre; nothing but his dress sword. Perhaps the captain felt the necessity of redeeming himself after the number of lies he had told; and he gave the order to charge the impetuous platoon, leading the onslaught in person. The position of his company was nearer to the entrance than that of Deck's command; but Life had spotted him, and rushed upon him.

In spite of his shouting, there was little vim in the movement of the captain. He made an awkward cut at the sergeant, who easily parried it, and brought the sharp edge of his sabre down upon his shoulder, near the neck, and the officer dropped to the ground as though a bullet had gone through his brain. His horse turned, and had nearly upset the major in his flight, and it was evident that the animal was not accustomed to this kind of business. If the major could have obtained a sabre, he would have done better work, and perhaps the platoon would have been checked in its onward movement.

Deck, mindful of the many lessons in prudence he had received from his father and his captain, had taken a position on the left of his command; but the enemy were not there at that moment, though the Confederate troopers, under the second lieutenant, were surrounding the Riverlawns from the rear as they advanced. Deck realized that whatever was done must be accomplished in a moment or never, and he could not restrain himself, but galloped to the front.

Ceph, his horse, began to put his education into practice, and stood up on his hind feet before the first trooper that came in front of him. At that moment the lieutenant cleaved the skull of the man in twain. The enemy did not fight like the Texan Rangers with whom the young officer had been pitted before. In fact, they fell back, and began to use their pistols. One of the Riverlawns dropped from his steed with his face covered with blood.

The lieutenant saw with intense regret that this man was Sergeant Fronklyn; but he was apparently only stunned partially by the bullet, for he sprang to his feet with the aid of a comrade, though his horse had gone with the forward movement of the platoon, and was out of his reach. At about the same moment the second lieutenant of the Southern company, who was a gigantic Tennesseean, led his platoon to the left of the Riverlawns, and pushed on towards their front.

This big fellow was a brave man, whatever might be said of the greater portion of his comrades, and had his eye on Deck, who had just brought his sabre down upon the trooper whose head he had split in twain. The Southron dashed up to him, and levelled a blow with his weapon at the head of the young officer, just as the latter was turning to confront the enemy in his rear. This movement evidently disturbed the aim of the lieutenant, and turned the sabre in his hand.

But the blow came down with the flat side of the blade upon Deck's head. It stunned him, and his brain whirled. He dropped from Ceph, just as that intelligent animal rose again on his hind feet to confront the new enemy; but there was no one in the saddle to strike the blow that might have killed or disabled the giant who had done the mischief to the intrepid young officer. Corporal Tilford, who was a powerful man, dashed his horse against the Tennessee lieutenant, and struck him in the rear, just as the latter had done to Deck. His aim was better, and he did not permit the hilt to turn in his hand, and the giant finished his earthly career there.

Sergeant Fronklyn, though wounded himself, had strength enough to drag his officer to one side of the platoon, so that his form might not be crushed by the advance of horses' feet. The troopers had seen the fall of the lieutenant, and naturally enough, supposing that he was killed, were excited to new fury by the disaster, and rushed upon the enemy, who were crowding them on both sides. They fought with an impetuosity which the enemy could not withstand, and a large portion of the latter justified their record for that day by running away.

There were individual instances of bravery on the part of the foe; but, as a whole, the attack upon the Riverlawns was feeble and nerveless. It was fortunate for the entrapped platoon that it was not set upon by some other company of the Confederate cavalry, rather than one which had run away from the field of battle; for in that case they might all have been prisoners of war.

Sergeant Knox remained at the head of the platoon, and after he had struck down with his powerful right arm two or three that confronted him, he was avoided by the enemy; but he continued to shout encouraging words to the men, who did not flinch a hair from the troopers that beset them in double their own numbers.

"Now forward, my boys!" he cried, as he saw that the entrance was clear for the passage of the body.

The men pressed on, upsetting the enemy in their path, though most of them had fallen back out of the reach of the sabres of the Riverlawns; and with this renewed effort they passed through the entrance and out of the intrenchments. But they had no sooner reached the outside of the works than they discovered the rest of the squadron in a fight at the foot of the first hill, with a whole regiment of Confederate cavalry. Captain Woodbine had occupied this hill at the beginning of the fight in this section, and on it Captain Ripley and his riflemen had been posted later.

The two companies of the First Kentucky were moving forward; but there was not room enough for them to manoeuvre. As usual, the sharpshooters were making havoc in the ranks of the regiment, and the head of the column was falling back to escape the deadly rifle-balls. Life halted his platoon, and looked them over, puffing like a steam-engine from the violence of his excitement and the fury of his exertions to save the command. The prospect before him was not encouraging, for the enemy had some troops outside of the works.

"Where is Leftenant Lyon?" demanded he of Corporal Tilford, as the latter rode up to him to give him information in regard to the officer in command of the platoon.

"I am sorry to say we left him in the enemy's camp," replied the corporal.

"Left him there!" exclaimed Life, with something like horror in his expression. "Was he wounded?"

"Worse than that, I am afraid," answered his informant.

"You don't mean to say he was killed, Corporal?" asked Life, looking as though he had lost the only friend he had in the world.

"I don't know for certain that he was killed, and should report him with the missing," replied the corporal.

"I don't understand it," continued the sergeant. "The lieutenant was always able to take care of himself."

"I can tell you just how it was, if you want to hear it in this place," returned Tilford, as he looked about him, and discovered a company of infantry coming out of the fort, and another approaching across the field. "We shall soon be surrounded here."

The sergeant looked about him, and the prospect near the fort was not encouraging. He gave the order to march, and led the way. The ground was hard here, and he galloped his horse at his best speed towards the second hill. The main body of the Riverlawns had a favorable position between the first hill and the end of the breastworks. The enemy had come down the pike. Between the two hills the two companies of the First Kentucky Cavalry had been skilfully posted by the senior captain when he found that there was no space between the hill and the intrenchments for his command.

Major Lyon, as it was afterwards stated, had started to the entrance of the fort, for the purpose of aiding the escape of the second platoon of the first company. Before he had advanced more than a few rods, his force had been attacked by the regiment which had just escaped from the field of battle. They had been ordered by some superior officer on the ground to attack the major's command; and the regiment had rushed into the narrow defile, where only a portion of it could be brought into action. The sharpshooters were rapidly reducing the numbers at the head of the column, though the ranks were immediately filled up by the sections behind them.

Life led his platoon, diminished in numbers by only three men besides the lieutenant, to a point in the field abreast of the farther side of the first hill. At this place he could see the riflemen posted behind trees and rocks, plying their deadly office with the utmost diligence, and after the manner the captain had ordered on the hill and at the meadow. He was operating upon the head of the enemy's column. The sergeant found that there was space enough between the hill and the end of the breastworks for him to charge the regiment on the flank, and at least make a demonstration in that quarter.

The Confederate column was losing its men at a fearful rate in its first company, and the second was sent to dislodge the concealed force on the hill. They moved gallantly forward, and began the ascent of the slope; but the ground was rough, and covered with trees and rocks, though the former were scattered just enough to enable the sharpshooters to fire over and between them. The advancing force were nearer the riflemen than the companies on the ground, and they dropped almost as fast as they went forward, and the company was soon recalled.

Sergeant Knox conducted his platoon through the opening, and fell upon the third company just as the second were approaching the position they had occupied before. As usual, his men fought furiously, and very unexpectedly a panic ensued. The Confederates evidently believed that they were flanked by a large force, and began to fall back towards the intrenchments, crowding the companies in the rear before them.

The men in the first company continued to fall in appalling numbers before the riflemen's unerring aim. The Riverlawns pressed them with renewed zeal, and they fell back into the gap made by the flankers. In this manner the second platoon came into their proper position, while the first company, now re-enforced by the two companies of their regiment, marched into the fort; and the fight for the time ended there. By this time it was beginning to be dark, and it was not likely that the battle would be renewed that night. The work of the next morning was to attack and carry the intrenchments.

The battalion had been under the command of Captain Woodbine, the staff-officer, from the time when the two companies in the rear had been brought into the action. He ordered his force to return to the end of the roads by which they had arrived. Major Lyon led his squadron back to the point indicated, and halted his men there. As soon as he had done so he rode back to look over his command. The riflemen were recalled. It was found that they had lost four men in killed, and nine wounded, most of them by the shells from the fort.