"I didn't want to jine them sodgers," he whined. "Gaffy Denny talked me into it. Wish I had a-stayed on my dad's plantation in Logan County."

"Yes, you would have been much better off," answered Deck, briefly.

The discovery of the loss sustained put a damper on the supper, and several of Diana's best dishes were hardly touched. But nothing could just then be done, and after Mrs. Lyon and the girls had told how they had been surprised by Gaffy Denny and his men and locked up in the storeroom off of the dining apartment, each of the party retired to catch a few hours of sleep. It is safe to say the lady of the mansion and the girls hardly closed their eyes, but Deck and Artie were growing used to excitement and had slumbered in the very midst of a battlefield, and they rested soundly.

On the day following, several of the county authorities put into appearance, and the prisoners were taken away to Bowling Green, some to the prison, and the wounded ones to a hospital. A vigorous search was instituted for Totterly, but nothing was learned about him further than that he had confiscated a horse at a little settlement known as Culver's, and had been seen riding with all speed directly south for the Tennessee State line.

Deck and Artie accompanied the prisoners to the county seat, and on returning to Riverlawn in the afternoon an hour's call was made at Lyndhall—a space of time all too short for the major, for Kate Belthorpe wished to know all about the affair at the mansion, and he was impatient to ask her about herself. Artie, knowing a thing or two or imagining he did, very considerately drew Margie Belthorpe to listen to what he might have to relate, so the affectionate pair were left alone part of the time, something which Deck very much appreciated, and to which pretty Kate did not at all object. The girl shuddered when he was forced to admit that he had been scratched on the neck by a bullet, and flinging her arms about his shoulders begged him to be more prudent in the future, and this he promised—for her sake, as he said in a whisper, and the compact was sealed with a kiss which if not exactly brotherly or sisterly was fully as affectionate.

"I suppose you proposed, didn't you?" said Artie, when he and Deck were galloping home. "I gave you the best chance in the world."

"I—I—don't be foolish, Artie," returned the young major, and blushed. "No," he went on, after a pause, "I didn't—but—I reckon it's all right—at least I hope it is;" and Artie clapped him on the back heartily and said he was positive it was all right, and they shook hands. After that the cousins were more brotherly than ever before.



CHAPTER VII

IN WHICH THE ENEMY'S SUPPLIES ARE CONFISCATED

"Deck, what is that glittering over there?" cried Artie, as they were crossing the creek bridge. "I declare, it's one of mother's spoons!"

"You're right, Artie," answered the major, leaping to the ground. "And here is another. That rascal I wounded must have thrown them away after I left him on the bridge bench."

Artie dismounted also, and the pair began a rigorous search for the balance of the missing silverware. Four additional spoons were brought to light, all having lain within a distance of two yards of each other.

"That's all," said Artie, after looking around for quarter of an hour without finding any more. "More than likely several of the guerillas divided the tableware between them."

Mrs. Lyon was much pleased over the recovery of even a part of the stolen property, and a hunt was immediately instituted at the various spots where the prisoners had been shot down or captured. Before night a dozen and a half spoons were in, also the gold butter dish. The other spoons were never found, although long after it was learned that the thief had thrown them into the creek.

Immediately after learning what was to be ascertained concerning Totterly, Levi had gone off with General and Clinker to run the men down, were such a thing possible. The overseer was gone two days and a night, and came back looking worn and haggard.

"I couldn't catch him, try my best," he said. "He has escaped into Tennessee, and I doubt very much if any of us ever lay eyes on him again."

From one of the prisoners they had received a very good description of the guerilla, who was said to be tall, with a marked stoop to his left shoulder, and with a long nose which did not point directly ahead, but somewhat to the right. He was said to be a well-educated man, inclined to drink, and was put down as using "school English."

"We shall never see or hear of him again," sighed Mrs. Lyon. "The money and that precious paper are gone forever."

"I don't see why he took the paper," said Artie. "I don't believe it is of any value excepting to father."

"We ought to write to father at once," said Hope, who, though younger than any present, took a deep interest in what had occurred. "If the paper concerned the slaves, what will he do if it is not found?"

"That's the conundrum, Hope," answered her big brother. "I'll write to-night, and father will get the letter inside of forty-eight hours, I think."

The major and the captain had expected to have a right royal time at home while on their furlough; but the attack on Riverlawn had upset all of their calculations. Nevertheless, they were warmly welcomed by those at the plantation, and Kate Belthorpe made Deck especially happy by coming over with her sister to spend a whole day at the mansion.

The furlough of the major and the captain was for ten days, and before the time was up a letter came from Colonel Lyon, stating that he had received the news of the attack on Riverlawn even before Deck's communication was handed to him. The loss of the private document intrusted to him by his dead brother worried him greatly, but he presumed everything possible was being done to recover it, so he would not risk leaving his command to take a hand personally.

"General Rosecrans is almost certain the enemy is up to some movement," he added. "I was talking to Colonel Minty only yesterday, and he thinks we shall have work cut out for us inside of a week. Unless you can accomplish something at home, you and Artie had better return to your positions at the front."

The note had evidently been written in a hurry, for no mention was made of the lost money, the colonel evidently valuing that at less than the stolen paper. The communication produced a profound impression on Deck and Artie, and after talking it over, both decided to leave for their regiment on the following morning. Levi urged them to do this, and promised to guard more carefully than ever against any possible future attack at Riverlawn.

Early in the year 1863 several changes were made in the Army of the Cumberland, and one of these was to transfer Fort Henry and Fort Donelson from Grant to Rosecrans, giving the latter the entire control of the Cumberland River. In the meantime, and during the several months to follow, the cavalry of the Union forces was recruited as much as possible, and many companies of infantry were placed on horseback, for Rosecrans had discovered that little or nothing could be done against the enemy's raiders by foot soldiers, no matter how daring or long-winded on the double-quick the latter might be.

Toward the end of January, General Bragg, somewhat recovered from the shock of the conflict at Murfreesboro, thought it about time to make another demonstration against the army of the North, and he accordingly directed General Wheeler to make an attack against Fort Donelson, so gallantly taken by the forces under Grant nearly a year previous. Wheeler directed Forrest to move his brigade with a battery of four guns along the river road to the neighborhood of Dover, while he with Wharton's command took a road to the left.

Several trusted scouts reported this movement to Rosecrans without delay, and the general immediately ordered Davis to take his division and two brigades of cavalry under Colonel Minty down the Versailles road and endeavor to take Wheeler in the rear, while Steedman was directed to watch the Confederate general's movements by way of Triune.

As the work of the Riverlawn Cavalry was well known, Colonel Lyon was pressed into the services of the cavalry moving toward Fort Donelson without, however, Captain Batterson's battery being attached, as heretofore. The brigades of cavalry were directed to move by way of the Unionville and Rover roads, the infantry going direct to Eaglesville.

The major and the captain arrived in camp just as the men were striking their tents. They were warmly received by Major Belthorpe, who wanted to know the news from home, and by Captain Gadbury, who was likewise anxious to hear from Lyndhall and especially from Margie. Both young men, however, lost no time in reporting to their father.

"It's a bad business, Dexter," said the colonel, when the loss of the secret letter was alluded to. "I must say I am treed, as the bear said to Davy Crockett."

"Don't you think the letter referred to the slaves, father?" said the major. "I always thought it did."

"I did think so, because I was particularly cautioned by Brother Duncan not to dispose of any of the slaves under any circumstances. They originally numbered fifty-one, but three have died, leaving forty-eight, as perhaps you know."

"Perhaps they were to be given their freedom," said Artie. "If that is so, President Lincoln's proclamation has forestalled Uncle Duncan's design."

At this the colonel smiled. "Almost true, Artie, but not quite," he said slowly. "If we lived in a rebellious State the proclamation would act as you say, but Kentucky, being still in the Union, is not affected by that proclamation, strange as the statement may seem."

"Creation! but I reckon you're right, father!" almost shouted Major Deck. "I never looked at it in that light before. We can hold slaves even if the folks living below the Mason and Dixon's line can't."

Colonel Lyon turned his eyes fully on the young commander, and studied that resolute face for several seconds in silence. From his parent's manner Deck knew something important was coming.

"My son, would you care to hold our colored people as slaves if all the other colored people in these United States were set at liberty? I say these United States, for I pray God that this conflict will speedily come to an end and that we shall remain an undivided Union."

"No; I say let them be free! Let us hire them to work for us," answered the major, promptly.

"Yes; give them their liberty," echoed Artie. "I never believed in slavery when we lived in New Hampshire, and I haven't got used to it yet. It isn't a Christian-like institution."

"My boys, I am glad you speak my thoughts," said Colonel Lyon, and grasped each by the hand. "Yes, the slaves shall be free; I settled that in my mind as soon as I read our President's proclamation. I have already begun a letter of instructions to Levi Bedford on the subject."

At this juncture Colonel Lyon was called away to confer with the officer in command of the division to which the Riverlawns had been assigned, and Deck and Artie hurried to their respective headquarters, the one to assume command of his company and the other his battalion.

"Major, you are looking as fine as fine can be!" exclaimed Captain Life Knox, of the seventh company, as he came up, saluted Deck, and then gave a hearty shake to the proffered hand. "Your furlough has evidently agreed with you."

"It would have agreed with me if it hadn't been for the trouble we had at Riverlawn."

"I heard something of that, but I'd like to listen to the particulars," continued Life.

They were readily given. When the tall Kentuckian heard Totterly's name mentioned his face grew dark.

"I know the skunk!" he cried. "He hails from the western part of the State and once cheated me in a hoss trade. So he is the man? Very well, we'll keep our eyes open for him."

Major Truman was also at hand, an eager listener to what was said. The former squire of Barcreek shook his head dubiously. "I was hoping our neighborhood would miss being raided after that last trouble," he said. "But, being on the border of this conflict, I dare say we shall suffer in this fashion as long as the war lasts."

In less than two hours after this the Riverlawn Cavalry was on the march, Deck at the head of the first battalion, with Artie as commander of his fourth company, and Colonel Lyon in charge of the whole. Major Batterson of the battery was sorry to be left behind, but wished "the boys" the best of luck.

"Don't let the enemy take Fort Donelson," he said. "Grant had too much of a job taking it from Buckner."

The cavalry forces under Minty had been divided, one taking the road through Unionville and the other that through Rover. The weather was cold and threatened a storm, yet the Riverlawns made good progress over the semi-frozen and rough highway.

The most worried man in the column was Quartermaster Hickman. For several weeks the troops had been living on half rations, for the government could get no supplies through, owing to the wrecking of the railroad. The country for miles around had been so thoroughly foraged that absolutely nothing was left that was worth picking up.

"It's easy enough to talk about providing something," grumbled the quartermaster, while riding at ease beside Deck. "I'd turn the shirt on my back into a peck of potatoes if I could, but the thing can't be done—and there you are. I've lived on nothing but hardtack and a couple of potatoes for two days,—and your father has done the same,—and yet some of the boys kick."

"It's hard lines, truly," answered Deck, soberly. "But we shall have to make the best of it, and that is all there is to it. When we halt for dinner, I'll make my battalion a little speech on the subject."

"I wish you would, for the third company is the hardest kicker of the lot," grumbled Hickman, and rode off, trying to solve in his mind how he was going to make six boxes of hardtack, two barrels of potatoes, and one box of beans last nearly a thousand men two days or more. "I'll just have to swell out them beans, that's all," he said. "And all hands will have to play Yankees and eat 'em," he added, remembering that some of the Kentuckians had turned up their noses at this particularly New England dish.

When the halt came Major Deck made his promised speech. "Our quartermaster is doing his best," he said, "and officers are faring no better than the men. If we are badly off, the enemy is worse, so let us leave the growling to them. I feel certain our government will not forget us, and that supplies will soon be coming through in abundance."

For a moment there was a silence. "We didn't mean anything, Major," came from a private of the second company. "The quartermaster is all right. Three cheers for him!" The cheers were given with a will; and then Hickman felt much better.

Life Knox and several others had gone off on a scout for "extras." They had brought down two rabbits when they ran across a house set in a grove of untrimmed trees. The front door was open on a crack, and at the crack an elderly man was stationed with a shot-gun.

"Keep off! keep off!" cried the man as he stepped onto the porch. "I don't want any soldiers around here."

"So it would seem," answered the tall Kentuckian, dryly. "Who are you?"

"Eh?" queried the man, who was a bit deaf.

"Stand still and tell us who you are."

"That's my business. You clear out!"

"Rather guess it's our business just now," laughed another of the cavalrymen.

"A man's house is his castle, and I want you to leave me," stormed the man with the shot-gun. "You are nothing but Yankees!"

"That is true," returned Life. "What have you in your house?"

"Eh?"

"Most awfully deaf, he is," grunted another of the party. "Have you got many provisions on hand?" he added, in a louder key.

"Eh?" and the man with the shot-gun leaned forward. "Did you say provisions?"

"Yes; have you any?" joined in Life.

"Enough for myself. Ain't got none for you—I can tell you that!"

"Reckon you have got something for us," grinned the tall Kentuckian.

Another of the party, Sandy Lyon, had, in the meantime, slipped behind the house. He now appeared at the edge of the porch and suddenly leaped upon the elderly man.

Utterly off his guard, for he had not heard Sandy approaching, the deaf man proved an easy victim, and in a twinkle his gun was taken from him.

"That was a good move, Sandy," said Life. "Now sit down and behave yourself, sir," he added, to the man, whose name was Gessel, and forced the deaf one to a seat on the porch.

Having overcome the only inhabitant of the house, the cavalrymen made an inspection of the premises and found over a score of boxes and barrels, filled with provisions intended for a Confederate force encamped in the vicinity of Rover.

Orders were at once sent to the quartermaster to take possession of the prize, and Colonel Lyon was notified of the Confederate detachment mentioned.

Realizing that the matter would brook of no delay, a consultation with the general of the command was held, and this resulted in Deck being sent off with his battalion to locate the Confederates, if possible, and engage them.



CHAPTER VIII

THE ENGAGEMENT NEAR SPRING HILL

The course of the first battalion of the Riverlawn Cavalry was along a path scarcely wide enough for four horsemen to ride abreast. It was through a thicket of dwarf trees, the limbs of which took off many a hat and scratched hands and faces. At several points the riders came to hollows, filled with icy water, and here detours had to be made, for fear the animals might become stuck in the stiff soil beneath.

As was his usual habit, Deck rode at the head of his command, with Captain Abbey, of the first company, beside him. Several scouts had been sent out and with them had gone Artie Lyon, by special permission of the major.

The scouts soon found the road making a broad sweep to the south, and presently came to a point where there was a clearing in the woods and a brook. Here they stopped their horses for a drink, and Artie pointed out some fresh tracks leading up the watercourse. The tracks were of men as well as horses.

"Let us investigate those tracks," he said to Lieutenant Fronklyn, who was one of the party. "I think they are about what we are looking for."

"I wouldn't be surprised," answered Fronklyn, who, as old readers know, had frequently been on the scout with Deck, and he knew a thing or two about the business. "Do we go afoot, Captain?"

"I think we had better."

The horses were tethered in the brush, and the pair advanced along the brook with caution. Soon the trail led to the westward, and here they found themselves confronted by a series of rocks, overgrown by moss and covered with dead leaves. Fronklyn stopped and scratched his head.

"Are we stumped?" questioned Artie. He got down on his knees and commenced to examine the moss. "I reckon we can follow the trail in spite of the rocks. Come ahead," and again they advanced.

The rocks ran up and then down. At the other side was another clearing, and not far away the regular road to Rover.

"Halt!" whispered Artie, catching his companion by the arm. "There they are, as sure as guns!" and he pointed to their left.

The young captain was right. Encamped on the edge of the clearing, and not over two hundred yards from the Rover road, was a company of Confederate cavalry. The men were taking it easy, smoking and playing cards. Not even a picket appeared in their vicinity.

"Let us count them," whispered Artie, and began the task, while Fronklyn did the same. They settled on forty-three men, not counting several who could be heard talking, but who were out of sight.

"Half a hundred," murmured the young captain. "If we are smart we ought to be able to bag the lot. Come on back, just as quickly as we can make it;" and he caught Fronklyn by the arm a second time.

When the brook was again reached, the other scouts were called in, and all lost no time in reporting to Deck. The major listened to what Artie and Fronklyn had to say with interest, and nodded when Artie spoke of bagging the lot.

"You are right," he said, and sent for Captains Abbey, Blenks, and Richland of the other companies.

It was soon arranged that the first and second companies should proceed along the regular road until the vicinity of the Confederate camp was reached. In the meantime the third and fourth companies under Captain Richland were to take to the trail Artie had discovered, thus covering the enemy's rear.

"As soon as we reach our position, I will send out Lieutenant Fronklyn to ascertain your arrival," said the major. "Then the four companies will take their positions north, west, east, and south as they rank. The enemy will thus be completely surrounded, and as our men will be protected by the woods, I do not see how they can do anything but surrender, unless they submit themselves to great slaughter."

"But supposing they make a break?" was the question put by Captain Richland.

"If they do, it will depend upon circumstances as to what shall be done, and I'll send you further orders," answered the major.

The two commands separated, and Deck rode forward at the head of the first detachment. The approach to the Confederate encampment by the regular road was considerably longer than by the brook route, but the latter way was the rougher of the two; so the young commander judged that both detachments would arrive at their destinations at about the same time. In this his supposition proved correct.

As before, scouts were sent out, Fronklyn at the head of the first detachment and Lieutenant Black at the head of the second, each with three men under him. It was wise that this was done, for the Confederates had just begun to throw out pickets, having received word that Rosecrans was sending troops after Wheeler and feeling the boys in blue must come somewhere in the neighborhood of where they were stopping. Each advanced guard managed to bag two pickets, silencing them ere they had a chance to make any outcry.

"Who is in command of your company?" questioned Deck, when one of the pickets was brought to him.

"Captain Barstow."

"How many men has he?"

"About twice as many as you," answered the Confederate, hoping to scare the Unionists off.

"Indeed," rejoined the major. "That is all," and the captured one was led to the rear.

There was a sharp turn in the road some distance from the camp of the enemy, and here the first detachment rested, while Fronklyn hurried through the woods to get word from Captain Richland. He found the second detachment just crossing the rocks, and, waiting until the two companies were located as ordered, reported the fact to the major.

The engagement was opened by the enemy, who, on finding themselves confronted in the rear by the two companies at the rocks, began a scattering fire and retreated toward the Rover road. The second detachment of the Riverlawns returned the fire with deadly effect, and four Confederates were either killed or wounded. In their hurry to leave the exposed camp, the enemy left nearly its whole outfit behind.

But down on the main road matters were still worse for them, for they almost ran into the first company, while the second company opened upon their right. Bewildered, they came to a halt, and looked inquiringly at their captain, while two other men dropped.

"Left wheel, double-quick march!" yelled Captain Barstow. "Load!" And away they went, loading as they ran. But at the base of the rocks they came to another halt, for from the trees some distance back glinted nearly a hundred carbine barrels. They turned again to find more carbines on the other side.

The first detachment had now come closer, and the Confederates were completely hemmed in, with hardly a tree to shelter them. In this position Major Deck called on them to surrender.

"If you don't do it, my troops will cut you to pieces," he added.

The captain of the Confederates wanted to fight, and to gain time attempted to parley over terms. But Deck would not listen to him; and five minutes later the company threw down their arms, and the angry commander was forced to give up his sword.

It was learned that the captured body numbered but thirty-six men, the others having either been shot down or having left the camp between the time that Artie and Fronklyn made their discovery and the contest opened. The wounded were cared for and placed in a farm wagon borrowed from a planter in the vicinity, and the prisoners were marched along the Rover road to where the second and third battalions of the Riverlawns were stationed.

"You did well, Dexter," said the colonel, when he had been informed of the course of events. "To capture such a force with only the loss of one man killed and three wounded was remarkable," and he smiled affectionately.

"I didn't do very much myself," said the major, modestly. "Artie and Lieutenant Fronklyn found the rebels and I ordered the only thing done that seemed practicable—to surround them."

"I see you still have your neck tied up. Does it hurt much?"

"A little, but not enough to speak about. Artie's wound was much the worse of the two."

"You must not be rash. Captain Abbey tells me that you exposed yourself several times while giving orders."

"I can't remain in the rear, father," pleaded the major. "How would it look?"

"My first battalion can't afford to lose its major, Dexter. You owe a duty to your command, as well as to yourself and me;" and here the conversation dropped.

The larger portion of the cavalry had moved forward toward Rover, and here another body of Minty's command encountered a small regiment of Confederates and captured them. To this body of the defeated were added the force taken by Major Deck.

Following the commands of General Rosecrans, Steedman moved forward by way of Triune and Nolinsville, and joined Davis's forces at Franklin. But Wheeler was on the alert, and by pushing forward at his utmost speed, managed to pass between those in his pursuit. On the third day of February he reached Dover, and there forced a fight with Colonel Harding, commanding about six hundred and fifty men of the Eighty-third Illinois. The latter was well intrenched at the new site of Fort Donelson, and bravely resisted two savage attacks, then charged over his works and captured nearly half a hundred of the enemy. In his double onslaught Wheeler lost five hundred and fifty in killed and wounded, while the loss to the Union forces was less than a hundred, exclusive of fifty soldiers who were captured. With broken ranks Wheeler started on his retreat through Centerville. Davis's command tried their best to cut him off, and so did a portion of Minty's cavalry, but the Confederate could not be caught, and he escaped with the remnant of his troops across Duck River. It may be added here that when Colonel Harding charged over his breastworks, he was sustained by the fire of several gunboats on the river, which were bound for Nashville with a number of transports.

The affair near Rover ended the present series of conflicts so far as the Riverlawn Cavalry was concerned, and they went into camp once more and were again joined by Batterson's battery. But the Confederates continued to be active, and early in March an encounter took place three miles outside of Spring Hill and another at Thompson's Station. The Union forces, under Coburn, were outnumbered and compelled to surrender; but the victory was of little value to the Confederates, since it did nothing for the advancement of their position.

On the 7th of March General Phil Sheridan moved with his division to Franklin, where he was joined by troops from Nashville and by Minty's cavalry. The object was to learn the enemy's true position. Van Dorn, the rebel leader, was at Spring Hill, and Granger was sent to dislodge him. This was done with the aid of several other Union troops, and Van Dorn was pursued as far as Rutherford Creek.

Once more the Riverlawns found themselves in the saddle and posted on a side road not half a mile from the scene of the initial blows of the battle. The road was a winding affair, and the several battalions covered not only the highway, but also the hemp fields on either side. They were kept waiting for nearly an hour, when a staff officer came galloping up and informed Colonel Lyon that a portion of the enemy was cutting through a woods to the northeast.

"You are to cut them off, Colonel Lyon," added the officer. "The general leaves the details of the movement to yourself."

"How many are coming?" asked the commandant of the Riverlawns.

"Five or six hundred, at least."

Colonel Lyon said no more, but at once directed his regiment to break into battalions. The first was to move up the road for an eighth of a mile, the second was to cut directly across the hemp field on the left, while the third was to follow the first, as a reserve, keeping as well posted as possible on the movements of Deck's companies.

In less than five minutes Major Belthorpe's battalion was galloping across the field as fast as the nature of the soil permitted, while Deck was moving up the highway at equal speed. Soon a patch of timber cut off the view of the first battalion by the second.

Major Deck now felt it "in his bones" that some sharp fighting was in store for his men, and in this he was not mistaken. The position determined upon by the colonel had hardly been gained when the Confederate detachment, consisting of several companies of cavalry and a like number of infantry, discovered the battalion in the hemp field, and opened fire.

Understanding fully Colonel Lyon's scheme, Major Belthorpe now swung around to the enemy's rear, the movement being easy on account of a fence and a hedge at the further entrance to the enclosure. They returned the fire, and several men fell upon both sides.

A slight rise in the centre of the hemp field cut off the view of the road from the woods, and now the commander of the Confederate forces thought he saw a clear opening before him, leading directly for Rutherford Creek. He resolved to move in a semicircle also, and make for the road, and gave his commands accordingly.

The march of the enemy's forces brought him on the road, midway between the first battalion and the third, situated, as before stated, an eighth of a mile apart. Owing to the winding course of the highway he did not see either battalion until it was too late to retreat. Deck marched down upon him, and Major Truman marched up, and he was caught between two fires, with the second battalion pressing him in the rear.

But the Confederate leader was a "fire-eater," in the most positive meaning of that term, and he resolved to make a dash for liberty by attempting to break through Deck's command, since the field on the road's right did not look like a promising one to enter, being broken by a ditch and several swamps, into which horses and infantry were bound to go down. He yelled to his leading cavalry to follow him, and, waving his sabre over his head, charged down upon Deck like a veritable demon.



CHAPTER IX

MAJOR DECK LYON MAKES A PROMISE

"They are coming, Major!" shouted Captain Abbey, as the Confederate leader forced his cavalry on the charge. "What had we best do?"

"Draw—pistols!" shouted Deck, by way of an answer. "Give them a round as soon as they turn the bend."

The command had hardly been given when the first company opened fire, followed by the second company, both wheeling to the left to let the other companies fire. By this time the Confederates were answering with their pistols; but, on account of their rapid riding, their aim was poor, and the shots did but little damage.

The young major was a central figure in the combat, and more than one soldier in gray directed his fire at him. But he escaped unharmed, to find himself, two minutes later, faced by the Confederate leader, wearing the straps of a major also.

The fellow was all of six feet tall, heavy-set, with a black mustache, and beady black eyes, that somehow put Deck in mind of a rattlesnake ready to strike. He came on, giving the Confederate yell heard so many times before, and to be heard so many times afterward—a yell no pen can describe, and one which arose, clear and full, above the clash of arms.

"Down you go!" hissed the major in gray, as he advanced upon Deck with his sabre pointed, as if to run him through. His look was sufficient to paralyze any ordinary man; but Deck did not quail, having been confronted thus before. He spoke to Ceph, and the intelligent animal reared up, and came down on one side, and a sharp blow from Deck's weapon caused the Confederate's sabre to fly from his hand.

The Confederate was astonished, almost dumfounded, for he had calculated that such a youthful commander would be "easy meat" for him. With another yell he swung his horse in a circle to avoid a second blow from Deck, and then, pulling his pistol, aimed it at our friend's head.

But Lieutenant Fronklyn was in a line directly behind Deck, and he did not intend that his commander should be shot down thus readily. As the Confederate leader's pistol went up, Fronklyn's sabre came down, and the firearm fell to the ground, carrying with it three of the fingers which had clutched its handle.

"Good for you, Fronklyn!" cried Deck. "I owe you one for that!" And then the tide of the contest carried them apart.

Fully half a hundred of the Confederate horsemen were as daring as their leader, and, while the others fell back and into the hands of the second and third battalions of the Riverlawns, these continued to press forward desperately, hoping to force a passage by sheer might of will power. Truly, their bravery was worthy of a better cause.

The shock of battle was one of the heaviest Deck's battalion had ever received, and for several minutes it looked as if the four companies must go to pieces. But the gallant major rallied his forces, and the Confederates were hemmed in so closely that they could neither advance nor retreat. Sabre blows fell thick and fast, striking fire in a dozen spots at once, and fully a dozen horses and riders went down in less than five minutes.

But the meeting, if sharp, was also short, and with himself and two of his officers disabled, the Confederate leader surrendered and the fighting stopped. Scarcely had Deck received word that the fight was won than Sandy Lyon rode up, as a special messenger from Major Belthorpe.

"The infantry are in the lower end of the hemp field," said Lieutenant Sandy. "Where is the colonel, please?"

"With Major Truman," responded Deck. "Does Major Belthorpe need reenforcements?"

"He says he can take the infantry if he is given two more companies."

"All right; tell him I'll be over as soon as I can get there," was the major's answer.

He turned to Captain Richland, in charge of the second division of the first battalion, and left it to the third and fourth companies to take charge of the prisoners, forty-two in number. This done, he took the first and second companies with him, and rode with all speed in the direction his cousin had pointed out to him.

His arrival came none too soon, for Major Belthorpe was having his hands full with the infantry of the enemy, and it looked as if they might slip through his fingers. Finding a good position near the rise in the field, Deck managed to drive them back toward a position they had occupied a quarter of an hour before. In the meantime word had reached the colonel and Major Truman, and the third battalion came up on a gallop. A charge all along the line was made, and the Confederate infantry was placed in full retreat. One company was captured, but the others took to the stony ground beyond the hemp field, and under cover of darkness managed to make their way, along with a number of other troops, to Rutherford Creek. They were hotly pursued by the second and the third battalions, but the high water in the creek made fording out of the question, and the Confederates escaped on boats, rafts, and floating logs.

As brilliant as had been Deck's services during the day, he was not content to let matters rest as they stood. Feeling that some of the Confederate forces might still be in the vicinity, he obtained permission to go on a scouting tour along the creek, taking with him his companion of many such expeditions, Life Knox. The pair left the camp quietly, although on horseback, and were soon out of sight and hearing of their comrades.

"It may be a wild-goose chase," said Deck, referring to what his father had said concerning the expedition. "But if we return empty-handed, there will be no harm done."

"Just exactly my way of looking at it, Major," answered Life, to whom the backwoods manner of talking was now a thing of the past. Deck had taught him how to speak correctly, and for this the tall Kentuckian was exceedingly grateful. He often declared that it was Deck who had made him fit to be an officer under Uncle Sam.

"General Sheridan is bound to uncover the enemy's full force," went on the major, as he urged Ceph to make a sturdy leap over a strong running brook. "If we—hullo, what's this?"

He stopped short, as Ceph swerved to one side, almost unseating him. This movement, on the part of the intelligent horse, was so unusual Deck knew at once something must be wrong. "What is it, Ceph?" he questioned, patting the steed on the neck.

For reply the horse turned about and pointed his nose toward the meadow grass which he had just trodden. The major leaped down and peered into the semi-darkness.

"A Confederate captain, seriously wounded or dead," he cried to Life. "Poor fellow, he is hardly more than a boy," he went on, gazing on the pale, youthful face, along one side of which the blood had flowed and dried. "Perhaps we can do something for him," and he knelt over the prostrate body.

Life also came to the spot, and between them they raised the boyish captain up. As they did this, he opened his eyes and gave a gasp.

"Water!" he murmured. "Water!"

Plenty of water was handy, and filling his canteen, Deck gave the wounded one a drink and bathed his face, after which he started to bind up the injured head with his handkerchief.

"It's no use, I'm going to die," gasped the Confederate, not able to speak above a whisper. "Are you—you Southern men?"

"We belong to the Kentucky troops," answered Deck.

"Yes; but what side?"

"We are on the side of the Union."

At this the youthful captain gave a groan. "Then I—I can't expect anything of you. Too bad! I wanted to send word to my sister—" A sudden spasm of pain caused him to stop speaking.

"We are not enemies, Captain, saving on the battlefield," said Deck, tenderly, for this case appealed strongly to his considerate heart. "You can rest assured that I will do all that I can for you—within the lines of my duty to the government."

"Will you? You—you look like an honest fellow—and you are young, like me."

"The major is all right, Captain," broke in Life. "Trust him for anything he promises."

"I come from Chattanooga, where I lived alone with my sister Rosebel. She didn't want me to join the army, and we—we quarrelled—" The captain gave something like a sob. "I joined the cavalry—ran away from Rosebel—and we—we quarrelled so hard I got mad and took the money—hid it away—down in the back cellar—in an iron pot—eight hundred dollars in gold. If you will do a stranger and an enemy a kindness, go to Rosebel,—or send word—ask her to forgive—ask her—tell her I am so sorry—so sorry—" Again the captain broke off, and now his eyes closed.

"Let me give him a bit of liquor, Major," said Knox, and poured some into his cup. The wounded youth took a swallow, and it gave him temporary strength.

"Oh, Rosebel, if I could only see you again," he murmured. He looked at Deck searchingly. "You will go to her—or send word?"

"I will."

"Don't forget to say how sorry I am—how ashamed I was when I got away—not for fighting for my country—for the glorious stars and bars; but because I—I treated her so. She was always so good, since mother and father died."

"I will do all I can for you. But your name—I must have that," said Deck. The captain had fallen back, and the eyes were becoming glassy. "Perhaps he had better have some more liquor, Life," he cried.

"My name is Paul—my name is Pa—" The sufferer broke off short. In vain he tried to speak. A shudder took possession of him, and he stretched out—dead.

"Gone!" muttered the tall Kentuckian. "Too bad. And only a boy, Major."

Deck could not trust himself to speak. During the past two years he had seen many men die, but no death had affected him like this. Two tears stole silently down his browned cheeks.

"Didn't catch his name, either?" went on Life.

"No."

"Then how are you going to find that sister of his?"

"I don't know yet; but I will find a way—I must," was the firm answer. He felt that the dead Confederate had intrusted him with a mission that could not be ignored.

Ere now the dead had been left where they had fallen, but both Deck and Life felt they could not leave this boyish captain lying in the meadow grass. Looking around, they found a trench dug through the meadow to the brook, and in a dry portion of this they deposited the body, first relieving it of a watch, a pocket-knife, and a photograph of a pleasant-looking Southern girl, presumedly Rosebel. The sods from the trench still lay upon the banks, and with these and some loose dirt they covered up the corpse. Then taking a long stick, Deck cut one end flat, and marked upon it with a heavy pencil,—

ROSEBEL'S PAUL LIES BURIED HERE.

The stick was stuck at the top of the grave, and silently they mounted their horses once more and proceeded on their way. It was fully ten minutes before either of them spoke again, and then the subject was something of an entirely different nature.

"Halt, Major!" It was Life who uttered the word, speaking in a whisper. The tall Kentuckian had discerned three forms moving before them in the darkness.

Deck also saw them, and brought Ceph to a stop. The three forms were on foot, but whether friends or foes they could not tell.

They had reached the edge of the creek, and above the spot was a patch of woods, while below was a long meadow, cut up into numerous brooks. On the opposite side of the creek was another patch of woods much denser than the first mentioned.

"This is the spot, Leftenant," they heard one of the party of three remark.

"Are you sure, Bolder?" came in a second voice. "Remember, you were mistaken before."

"Well, I'm not mistaken now," answered Bolder. "Here is the very tree I notched."

"Yes, this is the trail," came in a third voice. "And I don't believe there has been a single Yankee around."

"I trust not, Peters. But we are not out of the woods yet—in more ways than one. The raft may be gone, and fording this stream in such a flood as this is entirely out of the question."

"Oh, we could get over alone, Leftenant," answered the man named Bolder. "But that wouldn't be getting over those cases of ammunition and that field-pi—"

"Hush," came in a warning from the lieutenant. "You don't know but what some of those hanged Yankees may be around here."

"That's true, though I didn't see any of 'em as we came along."

"Perhaps, Bolder, you had better make a circuit of the woods before we get to work," said the lieutenant, a moment later. "We don't want to be surprised at our task."

"As you say, Leftenant; Tom Bolder is here to obey Leftenant Blackrook every time."

"Then go at once, and if you see anything alarming, give the whistle before agreed upon," rejoined Lieutenant Blackrook, as he and Peters moved into the grove of trees.

In a moment more Bolder had started off, gun on his shoulder. His course was almost directly toward a clump of bushes behind which Deck and Life had sought shelter, and from which spot they had overheard all that had been said.



CHAPTER X

A TRIP ON A RAFT

The talk of the three Confederates had filled the young major with interest. Evidently they had belonged to the troops just defeated, and they were now on their way to escape to the south of Rutherford Creek, as the main body on the retreat had gone.

But this was not all. A raft had been mentioned, also some cases of ammunition, and something had been spoken of that sounded as if it might have been meant for a field-piece. This looked as if the three Confederates intended to transfer some army property as well as themselves to a safer locality for men and goods.

It was too dark for either Deck or Life to make out the uniforms of the enemies, but they were inclined to believe that they belonged to some Southern battery which Wheeler had brought along, but which the Confederate commander had been unable to bring into use. It instantly crossed Deck's mind that it would be a big thing to bag the men, and even a bigger thing to seize the ammunition and the field-piece.

But now a difficulty arose—a difficulty which must be met and settled on the spot. One of the Confederates was coming toward them. What was to be done with the man?

Deck did not doubt but that Life and himself were more than a match for the half-starved upholder of a mistaken cause. They could easily compel him to surrender at the point of the pistol, or they might throw him down and gag him before he had any chance to make an outcry.

But would this be doing just the right thing, all circumstances considered? Might not the loss of one of their number frighten off the two others, and if the cases of ammunition and the field-piece were hidden away, could Life and himself find the things in that woods, filled as it was with rocks and brush? More than likely the articles had been hidden away with care, especially the boxes of ammunition.

To Deck's way of thinking, the only thing to do was to escape the observation of the fellow called Bolder, and then follow him up to where the army stores and the gun were hidden. After this it would be time enough to close in on the enemy, bring them to terms, and confiscate all they were in charge of that was of value.

Doubtless Captain Knox's thoughts were similar to those of Deck's, for as the Confederate artillerist advanced, he looked inquiringly at his companion, and uttered the monosyllable, "Well?"

"We must not be discovered," whispered the major. "Turn to the left. Easy, Ceph, easy!"

The horse understood the words of caution and moved off as silently as a shadow of the night, to another clump of bushes. Life followed, and his steed, also well trained, made no more noise than did Ceph. The course of the pair took them out of the semicircle Bolder had started to make around the patch of woods, and the Confederate passed fifty or sixty feet to their left.

"Now we will follow him," whispered Deck, when Bolder's back was partly turned upon them. "Be on your guard against a surprise, Life; there may be more Confederates in this vicinity."

"I'm always on my guard," was the laconic reply, as both horses moved off with care.

The course around the woods was a rugged one, and the journey took the best part of twenty minutes. At times they lost sight of Bolder, but never more than for half a minute at a time. Once they caught the Confederate looking behind him and promptly disappeared from view into a ditch, where flowed several inches of water.

The detour on the part of the enemy having come to an end, Bolder struck out for the centre of the thicket. Here it was impossible to ride without making considerable noise, and the major and Life dismounted and fastened the animals to a tree.

"Is that you, Bolder?" came in the voice of Lieutenant Blackrook, as the scout came into a clearing near the centre of the woods and at a point where there was a fair-sized inlet from the creek.

"Yes."

"All clear?"

"Not a soul in sight, Leftenant. I guess our boys are further up the stream, and the Yankees are below."

"I don't care where the Yanks are—so long as they don't come here," muttered the Confederate officer. "Hurry up, or we'll be all night at this job."

"Is the raft here?"

"Yes, under yonder bushes. Help Peters carry down the three boxes of ammunition, and then the three of us can see what we can do with the field-piece. I'm afraid it is pretty well stuck in the mud, and we may have to use a log or two to budge her."

"How about hosses on the other side?" asked Bolder. "We can't drag the gun by hand, even if she is light."

"We'll find horses, never fear. Come, get to work, and I'll take a hand myself."

Deck was in hopes that the Confederates would bring forth their ammunition and the field-piece without delay; but such was not the case. They first went to work on the raft, a clumsy affair built of two logs and a dozen rough two-inch hemlock planks. The raft had become wedged in under the brush overgrowing the bank of the inlet, and the trio tugged and strained at a rope to bring her away. Evidently, like many other Southerners, they were not used to work, and the task proceeded with many growls from all hands.

The raft brought over to the inner end of the inlet, the three Confederates took a breathing spell and passed around a bottle which the lieutenant carried. A plug of tobacco also went the round, each whittling off a piece to suit himself, with his jack-knife. Then the three started along a dry gully just above the inlet. A thrashing around in some brush followed.

"Here we are!" cried the lieutenant. "What a pity we didn't have a chance to use that gun and the canister against the Yanks!"

"Never mind, we'll use 'em another time," answered Peters. "Catch hold, Bolder," and he began to handle one of the ammunition cases.

Deck had seen enough, and now he touched Life on the arm, and the two retreated to a distance where it would be safe to talk. "We've spotted the things," he said. "What do you advise as the next move to make?"

"That is for you to say, Major."

"See here, Life, don't major me so much. You used to call me Deck. Perhaps I had better address you as captain in the future."

"Don't you do it, Deck," pleaded the Kentuckian. "I won't say major again, excepting when we are in the ranks."

"All right. Now, what do you think? I want your advice."

"Well, I reckon we want to capture the gun and the ammunition."

"That goes without saying."

"And we likewise want to take the fellows prisoners."

"Certainly, if it can be done—and I think it can."

"Then what more is there to say, Majo—, I mean Deck?"

"Something quite important. Shall we move against them at once, or wait until the gun and the ammunition are loaded on the raft?"

Life Knox stared at the speaker for a moment in perplexity. Then a grin overspread his good-natured face. "Reckon we'll let them do the work, seeing that the stuff will be better on the raft than off it. We can't do anything in the woods with such heavy luggage; but we might pole that raft to some safe place in the Union territory."

"Now you've struck it, Life—just what was passing in my own mind. Come, we'll watch the work, and I'll give the signal to open the ball with them."

When they reached their first point of observation, they discovered that two cases of ammunition had already been transferred to the raft. The third followed, and then a rope was attached to the field-piece, a small affair, but one capable of doing good execution in the hands of a skilful gunner.

The men strained and swore at the hard work, and Deck and Life were glad they had concluded to let the enemy undertake it instead of themselves. To the rope two logs were added as implements by which to start the piece, and at last it rolled over a rock in front of it, and they hauled it to the water's edge. Here arose another difficulty, and the piece was not placed on board until it had run the risk of dropping to the bottom of the inlet. The weight of the gun sent the top of the raft under water, and the lower box of ammunition received a wetting. The others, having been placed on top of the first, remained uninjured.

"Take the lieutenant and cover him well, Life!" whispered Deck; and it must be confessed that he was growing excited. "I will cover the man we followed around the woods. All ready?"

"Wait till I take to the other side of the inlet," answered the captain of the seventh company of the Riverlawns. He moved off immediately.

A low whistle told Deck when he was ready, and the major aimed his pistol at the Confederate lieutenant, who was assisting in casting off the rope which held the raft to the shore. The man Life was covering stood on the raft, with his comrade, ready to pole the craft out into the creek.

"Surrender!" The word rang out loudly, and its force covered up any nervousness Deck may have felt.

The command took the three Confederates completely by surprise. One of them dropped his pole, and the lieutenant let go the rope and straightened up.

"What's that?" he queried, as if he had not heard aright.

"Surrender!" repeated Life Knox, from the opposite side of the inlet. "If you don't, every one of you is a dead man!"

"Throw down your pistols," went on Deck, and the men turned again toward the spot from which the first voice had come. Of course the major and the captain kept themselves well concealed from view, and the Confederates saw nothing in the gloom.

"Who are you?" questioned Lieutenant Blackrook, grating his teeth in chagrin.

"We're a detachment of Union troops—true blue Kentucky cavalry—and each man a crack shot. Do you surrender, or do you prefer to be bored full of holes?"

"For Heaven's sake, don't shoot me down like a dog!" burst out Bolder, whose name belied his nature.

"Shut up, Bolder!" yelled the lieutenant. "How many of you out there?" he went on, and at the same moment leaped on the raft with the evident intention of hiding behind the boxes of ammunition.

"Halt! I'll give you five seconds in which to throw down your arms," went on Deck, and began to count off the seconds. More frightened than ever, Bolder flung his pistol in the brush at Deck's feet, and, seeing this, Peters did the same, and followed the pistol up with a sword he carried.

The Confederate lieutenant, however, was game, and dodging behind the boxes of ammunition made a leap from the inlet into the creek proper. Deck immediately fired at him, but owing to the darkness, the major's aim was poor and the bullet passed harmlessly by. Life Knox also took a shot, with no better result. Listening, they heard the lieutenant come up and strike out for the opposite shore. But he kept as far under the surface as his necessary breathing allowed, and the darkness speedily hid him entirely from view.

Satisfied that Bolder and Peters had no other weapons than those thrown down, Deck and Life came out into the open. As they did this, however, Deck turned back, as if speaking to others in the brush. "You fellows keep back until I tell you to come out," he said, and the two Confederates immediately felt certain that a detachment of at least eight or ten Yankees had surrounded them.

"Are you willing to submit quietly?" demanded the major, approaching Peters, for he felt sure Bolder would do nothing of his own account.

"Can't help myself, Cap'n," answered Peters, who had not yet discovered the young officer's rank.

"Are there any more of your kind about here?"

"I don't reckon there are, Cap'n."

"Where have the others gone?"

"Don't know as I kin answer that question, Major. Say, this is a right handsome bit of work for an officer as young as you, Major."

"I want to know how close your nearest troops are to us?"

Before Peters could answer, a pistol cracked out from the opposite shore of the creek. The ball whistled through the trees over Deck's head.

Crack! It was Life Knox's weapon in reply, but whether or not any damage was done could not be determined.

"We must leave this spot, Deck!" cried the tall Kentuckian. "Whoever fired that shot has our range here."

"It must be that lieutenant," answered Deck, and he was right. Lieutenant Blackrook had swum directly across the creek and was now firing as rapidly as possible.

"Tell the rascal to stop, or he may hit you," said Life to the two Confederates.

"Stop that firing!" roared Bolder. "Don't hit your friends!"

"Take to the water, you cowards!" came in the lieutenant's voice, and he fired again, a shot that both Deck and Life returned.

Nobody was touched, and now Deck ordered the Confederates to pole the raft into the creek and down that watercourse, as he remembered what had been said about the Southern forces being further up. All he desired at present was to get out of reach of the enemy, and remain so until he could get reenforcements.

Inside of two minutes the raft was out of the inlet, and the trip down the stream began. The flow of the current was in their favor, and soon the woods was left behind, and they came out between meadow banks on both sides. The Confederates remained passive enough, and Deck gave his whole attention to discovering a suitable landing place—one which might put him within easy call of assistance.

As has been said, it had grown dark, and now a fog began to creep over the meadows and the creek, gradually shutting every object but those close at hand, from view. The fog was very penetrating, and all on board began to shiver with the cold.

"Where are you goin' to take us?" asked Bolder, presently.

"To a safe place, my man," answered Life. "Better not ask any more questions."

"We are booked for a Northern prison, I reckon," said Peters, gloomily. "If those prisons are as bad as I've been told they are, I'd rather be shot than taken to one."

"All right; we'll shoot you if you say so," rejoined the Kentuckian; and then the Confederates relapsed once more into silence.

"There seems to be a bend here—" began Deck, a moment later. "The fog is so thick I can't see if we are turning to the left or the right. If we—"

He got no further, for a shock told him that the raft had grounded. A cry of consternation escaped his lips. They were on the Confederate side of the swollen stream.



CHAPTER XI

THE ENCOUNTER AT THE RAILROAD TRESTLE

"Here's a pretty mess, Life!"

"We'd better get off just as quick as we can," answered the captain of the seventh company. "For all we know to the contrary there may be two or three thousand rebels around this shore."

"Pole her off!" cried Deck to the Confederates, and ran to assist. Bolder began to do as directed, but Peters, without looking back, leaped for the ground beyond, and ran for it as rapidly as his long legs would carry him. Life was about to fire on him, when the major checked him.

"Don't do it, Life; it may bring the enemy around our ears."

"Right you are, Deck," answered the Kentuckian. "But don't you dare to go," and he shook his weapon threateningly at Bolder.

"I ain't goin'," was the sullen response, and the Confederate began to use his pole, although straining his eyes in the hope that Peters or Lieutenant Blackrook would appear with aid for him.

But nobody came, and in a few minutes more the raft was again in midstream. Deck now kept her headed for the other shore, and before long they drifted up into a meadow which was overflown for several acres. Here they ground so hard it was impossible to budge the unwieldy craft; and the voyage came to a termination.

Before leaving the raft, Deck bound Bolder's hands behind him. Looking across the meadow they discovered a farmhouse not over a hundred yards away, and hurried in that direction.

"Major Lyon, where have you been?" the cry came from Major Tom Belthorpe. "You look as if you had been lost in the fog."

"We were—a short time," answered Deck. He looked around and saw that Tom had a dozen soldiers with him. "I don't know what you and your men are doing here, but if you haven't anything in particular to do, I'd like you to help Captain Knox and myself."

"Why, what's up?"

"We went out on a scouting tour and captured one rebel, three boxes of ammunition, and a small field-piece."

The eyes of Kate Belthorpe's brother opened very widely. "Jee-rusa-lem! but you are doing things by the wholesale, Major,—one reb, three boxes of ammunition, and a gun! Where are they?"

"Down in the meadow lot below here. But you haven't told me what brought you here yet."

"Four prisoners got away and we gave chase,—that is, my men did. I met them on the road and came along, just for the excitement. We collared three of them, and the fourth escaped in the fog. Certainly, I'll go with you."

The pair of majors set off, Belthorpe taking six men with him. It was not long before Bolder was placed among the other prisoners, and the lot were hurried to the prisoners' camp, a mile and three-quarters away. By messenger Deck sent word to his father regarding the capture of ammunition and the field-piece.

As may well be imagined, Colonel Lyon was more pleased than ever over this new exploit of his son. The matter was referred to the commandant of the cavalry forces, and soon a detail of artillery came over and took formal charge of the capture. Later on the field-piece was used to take the place of one lost on Duck River some months back.

Van Dorn had retreated to the territory south of Rutherford Creek, and for the present no further pursuit was inaugurated, and the Riverlawns found themselves taking it easy, enjoying a well-earned rest. In the meantime Morgan became active again, and the second division of Reynold's brigade, under Colonel Hall, was sent in his pursuit. The division took a stand near Milton, and Morgan, after trying in vain to dodge to the right or the left, and, after a stubborn contest lasting about four hours, was forced to retreat, with heavy losses.

But the daring Confederate cavalry leader, now reenforced by some of the best Confederate soldiers which the State of Kentucky ever reared, was on his mettle, and resolved to make his raid in that State a success. He had gone to Liberty, and was preparing to make another dash, when Stanley's cavalry came upon him, and forced a fight between Liberty and Snow Hill. Morgan fought desperately, but Stanley was too wide-awake for him, and turned his left flank, and the raiders became demoralized, the exact reason for which has never been explained. Carbines were thrown away, horses went wild, and teamsters deserted their wagons; and the battle ended in such a rout that it took Morgan ten days to get his troops together again. Many another leader would have given up in disgust after such a scene as this; but Morgan's nerve was of iron, and he acknowledged no such word as fail.

It was about the middle of April that the Riverlawns received word to move again. In the meantime Deck had not forgotten the dead Confederate named Paul who had a sister called Rosebel living at Chattanooga. He had made diligent inquiries concerning the young man and his family, but, so far, nothing definite had turned up. He was hoping to get some word from such prisoners as might have had their homes at Chattanooga; but these prisoners were hard to find.

The movement of the Riverlawns was again in connection with two brigades of cavalry under Minty. To this force was united three brigades of infantry under General J. Reynolds and Wilder's mounted infantry. Orders were to proceed to McMinnville, take possession of the town, and destroy the railroad from there to Manchester. If the expedition should prove a success thus far, the troops were then to be reenforced by others from Carthage, and Morgan was to be attacked again.

The weather was not bad overhead, although hardly clear; but the roads were in a deplorable condition, and, as the regiment advanced along the road, the horses sunk up to their fetlocks in mud, while the train of wagons was even worse off. At short distances one or more wagons would get stuck, and extra horses would be needed to pull the vehicles from the ruts. After proceeding with the cavalry for three hours, Captain Batterson's battery was turned back, to take up a position which was being guarded near the river.

The railroad reached, at a point just outside of the town, a staff officer presented himself to Colonel Lyon, who was riding at ease, with Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon at his side.

"Colonel Lyon, the general directs that you take the road branching off just below here and leading to the trestlework of the railroad. You are to destroy as much of the trestle and the road-bed of the railroad as you can, also burn all supplies and sheds containing the same."

"Very well; tell General Reynolds I will do my best," replied Colonel Lyon. Then turning, he gave the necessary orders, and the Riverlawns detached themselves from the other cavalry and galloped down the side road indicated.

At this time McMinnville was but a small place, yet it boasted of a newspaper, and the surrounding territory was rich in fruit and other farms. The ground in spots was full of hollows, and over these the railroad corporation had built a series of trestles, with here and there a shed and a siding for freight cars.

Coming within sight of the trestle mentioned to him, Colonel Lyon found it guarded by a small company of Southerners, determined-looking men, about half uniformed, yet each with a trusty-looking gun in his hands. The Southerners opened fire without any parleying, and two cavalrymen were struck, although not seriously.

"They have a fine position, Colonel," remarked Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon. "They are above us, and that planking on this side gives them a first-class protection."

"That is right, Gordon; but we'll dislodge them fast enough," answered Noah Lyon, confidently. A leader somewhat against his will, he had now studied up military tactics in dead earnest, and with him, as with his son Deck, nothing was an impossibility.

The first battalion was ordered to halt and take a safe place behind a slight rise of ground to the northwest of the trestle. The second was marched around to the north, and the third to the south. This done, the party above was pretty well surrounded. Half a dozen shots were exchanged, but the planking mentioned protected the Confederates, and they did not budge.

It would have been easy to have advanced upon the party from both ends of the trestlework, but this would have cost a severe loss of life, and the humane colonel was for protecting his men from all injury if the thing could be done.

While Colonel Lyon was debating in his mind what should be his next movement, Artie came up and saluted, having received the proper permission from his major. The young captain observed the formalities as though the colonel was of no relationship to him.

"Colonel, I have to report something which may be of importance to you," he said.

"Well, Captain, what is it?" smiled the colonel. "A sure way to defeat the enemy?"

"Our company has discovered that a barrel of tar lies at the northeast end of the trestle. A freight car above was broken open, and I think the barrel was jounced out, as the road-bed seems to be very uneven, especially at the curve."

"The tar will certainly be useful to us, Artie."

"Yes, sir, especially as the wind is blowing from the northeast," went on the captain. "Tar, you know, makes a good, thick smoke."

The colonel stared for an instant, then a smile came into his face.

"Artie, I see you are bound to be a general like Deck. Your plan is to smoke the enemy out."

"I only mentioned what we had found, and how the wind was blowing," was the modest return.

"It amounts to the same thing. You can light that barrel, and roll it as close up to the enemy as you dare. I will send the third battalion around to the lower end of the trestle. Send Major Belthorpe to me."

Artie retired, and presently Tom Belthorpe came dashing up. He was told to keep a strict watch through the smoke for the enemy, should they turn up the tracks. Then Colonel Lyon galloped off with the third battalion in the opposite direction.

It was not long before the tar barrel was blazing merrily, and to add to the smoke some of the soldiers threw on a mass of dead and wet brush. The dense cloud rolled upward, and the wind carried it directly to the spot where the Confederates were located. In the midst of the smoke the barrel was rolled closer, until it set fire to the northeast end of the trestle.

Blinded and choked, the Confederates fired several volleys at random, and were then compelled to seek some spot where a breath of pure air might be obtained. Some ran up the tracks and some down, and these engaged the second and the third battalions. A few, risking life and limb, leaped from the trestle through the advancing fire beneath; but these were captured by Major Deck's command, each man being fully covered as he landed.

To Life Knox's gallant seventh company fell the lot of resisting the majority of those who had defended the trestle, and a desperate conflict took place in a small hollow at a second trestle above the first. The Confederate company was scarcely drilled, yet each man knew how to shoot, and when surrounded the fellows discarded their arms, and used their fists and such clubs as they had picked up on the railroad. As one Irishman in the seventh company declared afterward, "It was the most delightful Donnybrook fair he had seen since lavin' the ould country!" A private of Kentuckian blood declared, "They didn't know enough as soldiers to surrender, but jest fit, an' fit, an' fit!" This pitched battle was laughed over for many a day afterward. In the end, however, every Confederate was taken prisoner.

By the time the contest closed, the trestle was burning at a furious rate, and the regiment was ordered further along. Inside of an hour they found themselves in McMinnville, and here the battalions were divided. A portion of a Confederate regiment had taken a stand at a cotton mill not a great distance from the depot, and Deck's battalion was sent to the place to dislodge them.

With the intrepid major at the head, the four companies advanced on the double-quick until the cotton mill in question was gained. A halt was made, and as several shots were fired, the major directed his companies to take shelter behind a number of outbuildings. Here several Confederates were brought to light and made prisoners.

The taking of the cotton mill looked as if it would be a much harder task than had been that of deposing the company at the trestle. The Confederates were located at every window and door of the building, and as soon as any one of Deck's command appeared he was fired upon. Moreover, the mill stood in a plot of ground by itself, so it could not be approached excepting by a dash through the open.

"We have a nice bit of work cut out for us now, Major," observed Captain Abbey, of the first company, as he gazed at the solid-looking building in perplexity. "That makes a first-class fort."

"I was thinking as much myself," answered Deck.

"Can't we smoke them out—as we did down to the railroad?"

"There is nothing at hand with which to build a fire. I wouldn't care to burn the fellows up, either."

"Then let them come out and surrender."

"The mill is on fire!" suddenly shouted some one. "The enemy must have set the blaze themselves."

The report was correct, and in a minute more a heavy volume of smoke burst from several windows. Men leaped from half a dozen openings, and in a short while enough had gathered to form a good-sized company.

"Charge!" yelled a captain, savagely. "Break right through the Northern mudsills!"

And the Confederates charged, straight for the two companies commanded by Captain Richland and Artie Lyon.



CHAPTER XII

IN THE BURNING COTTON MILL

The two companies were in such positions that Captain Artie's command would be the first to receive the charge of the Confederates, who were coming on yelling like demons. The enemy felt that the chances of escape were slim, and came on in sheer desperation; and a crowd of desperate men can accomplish a good deal at times.

But Artie, youthful as he was, did not quail. As rapidly as it could be accomplished, he wheeled to one side and shouted to his first line to "Take aim—fire!" And the blaze of the carbines caused a temporary check.

As the Confederates came on again, the second line emptied their weapons. Again there was a halt, and the enemy's line split, as though the men had thought better of it and were desirous of running around the Union soldiers.

Artie saw the movement and turned to Captain Richland. "I can take care of the crowd on the right," he said.

"All right; I'll take that on the left," was the quick reply, and the third company of the first battalion opened fire, while Artie's command double-quicked to the new position indicated.

Again came a charge against the fourth company. But the force of the Confederates now numbered but eighteen, and with two men shot down they retreated as quickly as they had charged, and sought shelter behind the cotton mill. Here the first company dislodged them, and then they threw down their arms.

The other wing, led by the impetuous captain, hurled itself against Captain Richland's company. The Confederate leader was supported by half a dozen "fire-eaters," and about two score men; and although the charge was not entirely successful, yet in the general melee resulting, the captain and about half of those behind him managed to escape. The others were either shot down or added to the prisoners previously taken.

The mill was now burning furiously at one end, making one of the hottest fires the Lyon boys had ever witnessed. In it were stored hundreds of bales of cotton which the owners had been trying to work off in one way or another for months, but without success, for the cotton trade of the Southern states was glutted, the blockade runners from Europe carrying away only a small portion of the product.

"That building is doomed," observed Deck to Artie, who had come up, breathing heavily after his hard work in disarming a burly ruffian who had tried to cut him down from behind. "We may as well move on with our prisoners."

Deck had scarcely spoken, when a cry rent the air. The cry came in a man's voice, and was full of agony and terror.

"Help! help! help!"

"The cry comes from the other end of the mill," exclaimed Artie. "Come on around and see what is up," and he ran off; for he was on foot, as was also the major.

The end to which the captain had referred was not yet in a blaze, but the smoke was curling from every opening, showing that the fire was making rapid headway in that direction. Presently came a change in the wind, causing the smoke to veer around.

"It's a man—in that upper window!" ejaculated Artie, pointing with his hand. "Why don't you jump down?" he yelled.

"I can't!" came in a painful gasp. "My leg is caught fast in some machinery and I can't loosen it. Save me, for the love of Heaven! Don't let me die like this—even if I am a Confederate!"

"Caught fast!" echoed Deck. "Can't you break away at all?"

"No! no! Reckon my leg is broken!" The unfortunate one gave a moan of pain. "Won't you do something for me?"

"I will—if it can be done," answered Deck. He turned to the cavalrymen standing near. "Boys, have any of you seen a ladder about?"

One and another shook their heads. "There's a box," said one, "but it's not over three feet high, and the window is twenty feet up."

"The box won't do. How about a rope?"

"Here's a stout cord," said another.

"Not heavy enough."

"Help me—quick! The fire is coming this way!" shrieked the imperilled Confederate. "Save me, and I'll give you all I'm worth!"

"I'm coming!" answered Deck. "I wonder where the stairs are," he half muttered, as he turned toward one of the entrances to the mill.

"For gracious' sake, Deck, what are you going to do?" cried Artie.

"Going to that fellow's aid."

"But it's not safe to enter the building. The fire is working this way just as hard as it can."

"I'll risk it, Artie; I don't want to see that poor fellow die like a rat in a trap."

"Yes, but—but—"

"There is no time to waste, Artie," answered Deck, and breaking away from the hold the captain had taken, he leaped for the wide-open door of the mill.

"If he goes, I'll go too," cried Artie, and started to follow the major; but strong hands held him back.

"One is enough," said Captain Abbey. "I trust he is successful."

Captain Richland shook his head seriously. "The fire is sweeping to this quarter of the building with great swiftness," he remarked.

Into the building rushed Deck, to find himself at once in an atmosphere charged with smoke, yet not so heavily but that he could see about him. To his left was a rough wooden stairway with an iron rod for a hand-rail. Leaping for this, he began to mount the stairs three steps at a time.

The higher up he went, the thicker became the smoke, and on the upper flooring he could scarcely breathe. Bending low, to get the benefit of any air which might be circulating, he crept along in the direction of the Confederate sufferer. He had gone but a dozen steps when he halted. Before him was what appeared to be a solid wooden partition.

"Hi! where are you?" he called out; but the fire had now crept so close that the crackling of the flames drowned out every other sound. Feeling that it would be a waste of precious time to remain where he was, he ran along the wooden barrier from one end to the other. A door at last was found, but it was tightly closed and refused to budge.

Taking his sabre, Deck attempted to get it in the crack between the door and its frame. The point only could be introduced, and not caring to break this off, he withdrew the blade. By this time the smoke was making him dizzy, and he flew for a window to get some air.

"Help!" he heard the Confederate cry again, and now made a discovery he fancied would be of advantage to him in his endeavor to assist the unfortunate man. The window to which he had made his way was within two feet of the wooden partition, while the window at which the Confederate was calling from was an equal distance from the partition, on the other side. The two windows, therefore, were but four feet apart.

As has been mentioned, it was twenty feet to the ground, a distance great enough to cause serious results should the major take a tumble. But Deck did not count the consequences. He was going to help the rebel if he could.

Crawling forth, he turned on the window-sill and stood upright. The framing was not over six inches in depth and was plain, affording but a scant hold. He had hardly appeared when a shout went up from below. "There is the major now!"

"Major, look out there, or you'll break your neck!"

These and other remarks were made, but Deck paid no attention further than to "look out," whatever that might mean. In reality his gaze was fastened on the window next to him, and now he leaned over and caught hold of the edging. But at this distance the hold was too uncertain to be depended upon, and he drew back.

The question of what was to be done next was a serious one. The wind had shifted again, giving a temporary check to the fire in that direction; but it would shift back, and then Deck felt the end of the mill would be close at hand. He looked at the next window again.

A large nail caught his eye, fastened at the top of the frame. He felt that this would hold, if only he could reach it. He took off his sabre belt and examined it.

The belt was strong and so was the buckle, and leaning over he threw one end of the belt out, not once, but several times. At last a portion of the buckle caught over the nail. He pulled on the leather to make sure it would bear his weight, then swung to the sill of the next window with ease.

"Thank Heaven!" he heard the Confederate ejaculate. The man had been holding himself up as far as possible, but had now dropped flat on his back.

Despite the smoke, the major soon took in the situation. The Confederate had stepped upon the lever of a compressor; the jaw of the machine had opened, and his leg had been caught and held. Whether the limb was broken or not, the major could not tell; but it was certain the unfortunate one was suffering intense pain, and this, added to his fright because of the fire, made him truly an object of compassion.

"Can you—you—release me?" he groaned, and he seemed to be on the point of fainting.

For reply Deck grasped the lever and attempted to force it back. It was stuck, and he had to exert all his strength to move it even an inch. Seeing an iron rod handy, he used it as another kind of lever, and with a click the jaws of the machine opened, and the Confederate was free.

"What shall I do?" he asked, in a whisper. "I—I can't walk."

"I will carry you," answered Deck. "Wait just a second."

He bounded along the wooden partition to where the door was situated. The air was tremendously hot, and the wind was shifting back. As he gained the door there was a dull booming, as a portion of the flooring in another department of the mill gave way, and the whole structure began to shake.

The door was merely latched and he flung it wide open. But this created a draught, and he closed it again; then ran back for the Confederate. The poor fellow had fainted.

The load was a heavy one, but in the excitement Deck could have carried twice the weight. Flinging his burden over his right shoulder, he staggered through the smoke. The room was now ablaze overhead, and the sparks fell thickly upon his unprotected head and neck.

"God see us both through this in safety!" was the silent prayer which came from his heart, and now the door was reached again. In a moment more he stood in the apartment he had first entered. A look of consternation spread over his pale, set face.

The fire had been at work overhead, running from end to end of the mill roof. Now it had worked its way downward, and that part of the ceiling above the stairway was a seething and roaring mass of flames and smoke. It looked as if at any instant a portion of the roof might cave in, burying the whole stairway beneath it.

Should he risk a descent? Deck's heart almost stood still as he asked himself the question. He was brave, even to rashness; but this was very much like courting death. For the moment he thought of home, his mother, and of sweet Kate Belthorpe. Should he risk being torn from all that was dear to him?

Another booming decided him. The fire had come down behind him, cutting off his retreat. He must go forward or give up the struggle. With another silent prayer that Heaven might guide and protect him, he grasped his burden closer and advanced to the top of the stairs. Soon he was hurrying downward as rapidly as the weight on his shoulder would permit. Five steps were passed and he paused.

A blazing board had come down directly in front of him. As he stood still, another came down, striking him on the unoccupied shoulder. He waited no longer, but, calculating as well as he could, made a clean leap to the bottom.

Luckily he landed squarely, and, though his burden made him stagger, he did not fall. As he started for the open doorway, there was a crash, and the stairway became a thing of the past. The young major had missed death by less than five seconds.

How he gained the open air, Deck could not tell afterward. The smoke was so thick he could not see, and breathing was out of the question. "Out there—help me!" he yelled, when he saw the light, and then Artie and several others ran to his aid. Two cavalrymen took the unconscious Confederate and laid him on the grass.

"Deck, are you hurt?" asked the young captain, anxiously, seeing how pale the young officer was. The major could not stand upright.

"Hurt? No—I'm—I'm—all right," was the answer; and then the gallant youth fainted dead away.

With the wounded, he was carried on a stretcher to the nearest ambulance. Artie was permitted to go along, and Captain Abbey took command of the battalion. The Confederate was placed among the wounded of his own company.

Colonel Lyon was not near the mill, and it was not until night that he heard Deck was sick. The major did not recover consciousness for an hour, and then it was found he had a fever. That night was an anxious one for both the colonel and the young captain, and the morning brought small comfort. Deck was out of his mind, and the doctor was afraid he had inhaled too much smoke, and possibly some of the flames.

"The boy meant well, but he overdid the matter," said Colonel Lyon, sadly. "I warned him over and over again to be more careful; but he was too anxious to make a record for himself to listen to me. If anything happens to him, what will his mother and the others say?"



CHAPTER XIII

AN ADVANCE ALL ALONG THE LINE

General Bragg, the Confederate commander, had established his headquarters at Tullahoma, but his troops lay some twenty or thirty miles to the north of that town, in a grand semicircle extending from Wartrace on the east, through Shelbyville to Columbia on the west. The troops numbered about forty thousand, of all sorts, according to the commander's own report, and a larger portion of them were sheltered behind hastily constructed intrenchments.

Although Bragg occupied this advanced position, General Rosecrans was certain that should the Confederate be unable to hold Shelbyville and the surrounding territory, he would retreat to his stronger intrenchments at Tullahoma. This town, situated on the rocky bank of Duck River and surrounded by mountainous passes, was an ideal stronghold. Once the Southern forces should retreat to it, to follow them would be extremely hazardous, for the Confederates could easily command the river and every defile, and pour in a hot fire without permitting the Union troops to get a shot in return.

Under these circumstances, General Rosecrans determined, if possible, to cut off the Confederate's chances of retreating to Tullahoma, or, at least, of retreating by the direct way. To do this, he determined to turn the enemy's right, and then make a dash for the railroad bridge at Elk River. Once he had turned the enemy's right and gained the bridge, Bragg, if he retreated, would have to go to Tullahoma by side roads, where both armies would have an equal chance in fighting, so far as the lay of the land was concerned.

In all military operations, one of the main elements of success lies in the fact of keeping the other fellow guessing what you are going to do until you do it; and, in order to blind General Bragg as to his real intention, General Rosecrans started in by making an attack on the Confederate centre, as though he intended to push through at that point if he could. While this was going on he hurried his main divisions around to the enemy's right.

The army numbered many thousands of infantry, cavalry, and artillery; the battle-ground extended over many miles of territory; and to get every regiment in its proper place was no light task. Messages flew hither and thither, carried by telegraph and by horseback messengers, and many a detail was completed only to be totally altered at the last moment. And while this was going on, a close watch had to be kept on the enemy, for fear he would make some movement never dreamed of by our troops.

After months of preparation and numerous small conflicts, the army began to move on the 23d of June, 1863. It was divided into three corps, the right under McCook, the centre under Thomas, and the left under Crittenden. The weather was by no means favorable; and soon it was raining in torrents, rendering the roads a mass of liquid mud, and swelling even the smaller streams to such an extent that they could scarcely be forded. In a campaign lasting nine days, General Rosecrans declares that their advance was delayed ninety hours by the elements.

After their work along the railroad in the vicinity of McMinnville, the Riverlawns were ordered to Triune, where they went into camp just outside of the town, on the bank of a little creek backed up by a hemp field. Their hospital tent was located in the midst of this field, and here, on a cot, lay Deck, suffering in a manner that was new to the doctors caring for him. At times the major was out of his mind, then he would be rational, but so weak he could scarcely talk.

"It's awful—simply awful," said Artie, to his Cousin Sandy one day. "It's the worst case I ever heard of."

"It is too bad," replied the second lieutenant, of Captain Gadbury's command. "I wish I could do something for him, I really do."

There was a great change in Sandy Lyon. He was no longer the wild fellow he had been. Army discipline had made a man of him, and he was a first-class soldier in every sense of the word. Only one thing he regretted, that being that he had not become attached to the Engineering Corps. He declared that as soon as the war was over he was going to study hard and become an architect and builder.

The change in Titus Lyon was also great. He had kept the pledge, and his brother Noah could not have had a more useful adjutant. The brothers were real brothers once more, much to the satisfaction of Titus's wife and daughters, as well as the other members of the Lyon family at large.

At last Colonel Lyon began to think of sending Deck home, although he hated the thought of having the youth where he could not see him constantly. Moreover, Mrs. Lyon had not been informed of how much Deck was suffering, and the truth might give her a shock.

It was three weeks previous to the movement of the army upon the Confederate forces that the major began to mend. At first the change was gradual, but inside of ten days he was up on his feet. His appetite now came back, and he began to walk around, declaring that he would soon be as well as ever.

"Deck, you must take no more such risks—I positively forbid it," said Colonel Lyon, when calling on his son one evening.

"All right, father, I'll try to be more careful," answered Deck, with a faint smile. "To tell the truth, I didn't realize what a risk it was until it was too late to turn back. On that account, I don't think I am half the hero the boys are making me out to be."

"I have a letter for you," continued the colonel, producing the communication. "It will certainly interest you, for it is from the Confederate soldier you rescued from the mill."

"Is that so? How is he doing?"

"He is doing too much—he got so well that he ran away yesterday."

"Ran away!"

"Exactly; and left that letter behind. Read it," and Deck did so. The communication ran as follows:—

"MAJOR DEXTER LYON:—

"My Dear Sir: I am on the point of trying to make my escape from the sick camp in which I have been placed by your Union hospital surgeons. It is a rather shabby way to act after such kindness, but I have no hankering after a life in a Northern prison pen.

"Before I leave, and knowing well I shall run the risk of being shot down, I wish to thank you for your goodness in rescuing me from the burning cotton mill. You did more for me than I think I should have done for any Northern man—you risked your life to save mine. Major Lyon, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and if it ever comes in my power to do you a good turn I shall do it—no matter what it may cost me. I thank you again.

"Yours respectfully,

"THOMAS DERWIDDIE,

"Tennessee Volunteers."

"Did they follow Thomas Derwiddie up?" asked Deck, as he folded the letter. It was written on a scrap of very old and dirty newspaper, in pencil.

"They tried to; but they could not catch him. I reckon by this time he is well within the Southern lines."

"He is certainly very thankful," mused the major. "Come what may, it would seem that I have one friend in the South—although it is likely I shall never see or hear of him again."

"That is true, Deck; yet it must make you feel glad to know the fellow appreciates your kindness."

"It does, father; I shall prize the letter very highly," and Deck placed it in an inner pocket. When next he wrote to Kate Belthorpe he enclosed the communication with his own, and Kate thought almost as much of one letter as of the other.

The first cavalry division, under General Mitchell, was located near Triune, and this division now moved forward, on the Eagleville and Shelbyville turnpike, in the direction of the enemy's centre and left. Less than half an hour after came the order for the Riverlawns to move in a similar manner.

"Hurrah! we'll soon be in it again!" cried Captain Artie, rushing into his company street with the news. "Get to moving, boys; for there is no time to lose. We are going to smash the rebs this trip."

"Well, I hope so," said Black, his first lieutenant. "How about your brother, the major?"

"Deck is going along. My father doesn't like to hear of it; but the major says he is feeling all right again. I reckon he will take it a bit easy, though."

There was little time to say more, for the call to move made plenty of work for everybody. Every man was supplied with twelve days' rations of bread, coffee, sugar, and salt, and six days' rations of pork and bacon, while other meat was carried "on the hoof," as it was expressed, that is, alive, the animals being driven along in droves, or tied to the rear of the supply wagons.

"I'm glad we're going to move, but I'd just as lief have clear weather for it," observed Life Knox, as he came up, shaking the water from his military cape. "Captain Lyon, do you feel like taking a dash of some ten or twelve miles on horseback with me?"

"A dash—where to?" queried Artie, stopping in his operations of strapping his belongings together.

"The general wants to learn in what condition the side road to the southeast is in, and he has detailed me to make an investigation. I can take any one along whom I please, and I thought of you and Deck; but Deck is not fit to go, even though I have seen him around on his faithful old Ceph."

"The side roads are probably drowned out," laughed Artie. "But I'll go, with pleasure—scouting always did just hit me right," and without delay he turned over his command to Lieutenant Black.

Inside of a quarter of an hour, the two captains were off, each mounted on his favorite horse, each fully armed, and each carrying his rations with him. The rain came down steadily, and the horses sent the water flying in all directions as they pushed their way along over a turnpike covered with pools.

"Does the general think of sending troops by that side road?" asked Artie, presently, as a turn hid them from their late companions, who had wondered where they were going.

"Nothing was said about that, and I didn't ask any questions," returned Life. "My private opinion is, he wants to make sure the road can be used in case the rebels try to break through our corps."

"They wouldn't dare to do that."

"They might dare anything, Artie. Bragg has some fine soldiers under him—not the least doubt of that. The more I see of this campaign, the more I am convinced that the war will not end until there has been an immense amount of blood shed. We began in a haphazard sort of way, but we are speedily getting down to business."

"I agree with you there, Life. Of course Bragg will drive us back to Kentucky, if he can; in fact, he'll drive us through Indiana into the Lakes, if we let him. But we are not going to let him," concluded the youthful captain of the fourth company.

They had been moving along a level road, but now a second turn took them up a gentle slope, from the top of which a bird's-eye view of a small stretch of country could be obtained. Behind them, to the right and the left, many companies of soldiers, afoot and on horseback, could be seen advancing southward.

"There is the road we are to investigate," said Life, pointing with his long forefinger. "By the lay of the land, I should say it doesn't amount to anything. The infantry and cavalry may get through, but never the artillery."

"Well, all we can do is to make an examination and report," answered Artie. "But see here, why isn't a detail of the Engineering Corps doing this work?"

"Every man is engaged elsewhere. Besides, we are to look for rebels while we are at it. The general is inclined to believe there are spies in this vicinity. If we run across any such cattle, we are to lasso them and bring them in."

After this, the two relapsed into silence, for the rain was driving into their faces, and it was difficult to talk while muffled up in their storm capes. They descended the slope on the other side, then turned into a small woods, where the tall trees afforded some shelter.

Two miles had been covered, and the horses were making good time on a rocky road-bed, when, looking ahead, they saw a split in the highway. One branch ran to the southward, the second, a few points to the eastward.

"Which is which?" asked Artie, as he drew rein.

"That's the riddle. One road looks as if it was travelled about as much as the second."

"And neither very much, Life."

"I think we had better try the one to the right."

"And I was going to suggest the one on the left."

"Well, they can't both be right."

"No, only one is right—the other is left," laughed the young captain.

"And you'll be left to take the left," said the tall Kentuckian. "But, seriously, which had we better follow?"

"I don't know—unless we toss up for it."

"There may be sign-boards about. Let us look."

They made a careful survey of all the trees and posts in the vicinity, but nothing like a guide-post came to light. If there had been signs, the enemy had removed them long before.

"I have a suggestion to make," said Artie, as the pair came together in the road again. "Let us each take to a road and ride, say, quarter of a mile. Then we can return and compare notes."