"That would certainly be better than halting in the rain, Artie. It's settled, and I'm off," and using his spurs, Life Knox dashed away down the road to the right. A few seconds later, Artie took the road to the left, little dreaming of the adventure that was in store for him.



CHAPTER XIV

ARTIE IS MADE A PRISONER

Life Knox had been right; the road he had taken was the correct one, while that which Artie was pursuing was merely a side trail, joining the main road again about a half mile beyond. The side road led up to a plantation owned by Colonel Dick Bradner, one of the most zealous Confederates in the State of Tennessee.

Colonel Bradner was a military man, but he was not now in active service. In his younger days he had served in the Mexican War, and had gained, under General Taylor, a commission as first lieutenant in the volunteer army of that date. His military ardor had cost him his right arm and his left leg, and, being thus crippled, further service was out of the question.

Colonel Bradner had always been a fire eater, hot to the last degree; and if he had had his way, war between the North and the South would have broken out in '58 instead of '61. For a time he had drawn a pension from the government at Washington; but this was now cut off, and the loss made the military gentleman more bitter than ever, if such a thing were possible.

The plantation on the side road was one of good size. In days gone by it had flourished, and been a source of riches to the colonel and his wife, the only members of the household. The slaves had numbered sixty-five, all able-bodied, and all worth five hundred dollars each at the auction block in Memphis. Now all but six of the slaves had run away, the plantation was neglected, and what there had been of stores had been given to the Confederate forces, simply from the fact that, had they not been given up, friend or foe would have confiscated them as one of the necessities of the great conflict.

Unaware that he was wrong, and likewise unaware that he was "running his head into the lion's mouth," Artie galloped down the side trail, sending a shower of mud up against the trees as he passed them by. Not a soul was in sight, and it looked as if the neighborhood, for miles around, was deserted.

Presently he reached a negro hut—the first belonging to the Bradner plantation. The door stood wide open, the rain beating far in over the sill. A brief survey convinced the young captain that the abode was deserted.

"The negroes have grown scared, and run for it," he mused, as he continued on his way. "Hullo, there's another cabin, and another. I've struck some village, I reckon—or a plantation. If somebody would only appear—ah!"

Through the low-hanging trees he had caught sight of the mansion, standing between an avenue of pines. To the front was a path of sand, and to the rear a small brook. The fields were on the other side of the brook.

"That looks as deserted as were those cabins," thought Artie, when he saw a woman pass hastily by one of the parlor windows. Concluding that the men were off to the war, and that the lady was the only person left at home, he turned up the sandy path and rode to the front porch, where he dismounted, and used the heavy brass knocker attached to the oaken door.

His arrival had been noticed, yet it was several minutes before anybody answered his summons. In the meantime he heard a spirited murmur of voices, as though two persons in the hallway were discussing the situation.

It was Mrs. Dick Bradner who let him in,—a short, stout woman of fifty, with piercing black eyes and jet-black hair. Her skin was as dark as that of a mulatto, and her features were by no means prepossessing.

"Well?" she snapped, as she threw back the door.

"I stopped for a bit of information," replied Artie, as he bowed and came into the hallway, a wide affair, running directly through to the rear.

"What is it you wish to know?" was the short query, as snappy as her first greeting had been.

"I am a bit mixed on the roads. There is a split about an eighth of a mile above here, and I would like to know if this is the regular road, or if the other road is."

"You're a Yankee officer, I take it."

"I am, madam."

"What company do you belong to?"

"I am captain of the fourth company of the Riverlawn Cavalry, of Kentucky."

"The Riverlawns!" came in something like a gasp. "Well, I never! Dick! Dick!"

"Well, Martha, what?" growled the colonel, from an inner room. "Send him about his business."

"He belongs to the Riverlawns, Dick,—that cavalry—"

"Hush, Martha." There was the stumping of a wooden leg, and Colonel Bradner appeared. "So you belong to the Riverlawns, Captain? Come in, I would like to talk to you."

"I haven't much time to talk, sir," answered Artie. "I must be on my way. If you will tell me about the roads—"

"In a minute, Captain, in a minute. But I would like a little information myself—about the Riverlawns."

"Yes, we want to know all about them," put in Mrs. Bradner. "My brother—"

"Martha, do let me do the talking," interrupted the colonel, with a significant look behind Artie's back which the captain failed to catch. "Walk into the sitting room, where there is a small fire. I can't go without some fire on a damp day, even in June. The rheumatism is too bad in my poor stumps. Come in."

The colonel led the way, and Artie followed, although the delay was not to his taste. Yet he was curious to learn what his host wanted to know concerning the cavalry his father (so called) commanded. Perhaps the lady's brother belonged to one of the companies, despite the fact that she was a Tennesseean.

The sitting room was a cheerful place, and the fire felt decidedly comfortable, and Artie wished he was not in a hurry. Colonel Bradner shoved a cane rocker toward him, and sank down on a lounge. Feeling that his wet clothing would not hurt a cane rocker, Artie sat down.

"By the way, Martha, tell Joe and Sam to come in," said the colonel, in an off-handed way. "They must clean up that cellar before the rain ruins everything. Tell them to clean out that back pantry the first thing."

"But, Dick—"

"Never mind, my dear, tell them;" and the head of the house waved his wife off, winking at her when Artie was not looking. The wink satisfied the lady more than did her husband's words, and she moved off in deep thought.

"So you belong to the Riverlawns, Captain. What company, if I may ask?"

"I am captain of the fourth company, Mr. ——"

"Excuse me, I should have introduced myself and my wife. Colonel Dick Bradner, at your service."

"You are not in active service, Colonel," and Artie smiled faintly.

"Do I look as if I was? But I have seen service, young man, having gone all through the Mexican War."

"Indeed! I am glad to meet you, sir. But about the Riverlawns and Mrs. Bradner's brother—"

"I'll get there in a moment, Captain. You see I am getting old and long-winded. I used to stump the State during election time, but I'm getting so tiresome now nobody will listen to me."

"I am listening, Colonel. But I have a duty to perform which must be accomplished as soon as possible."

"I reckon I need not ask what it is. It's none of my business, of course not."

"What were you going to ask me concerning our regiment?" asked Artie, half desperately, for he was afraid the crippled colonel would keep him there all day.

"I wanted to ask you if your command did not take part in an engagement at Greeger Lake, last fall?"

"We did."

"What was the result of that engagement?"

"We took about five hundred guerillas prisoners, and—"

"Guerillas! Do you dare to call our troops—Oh! pshaw, go on,—what did you do?"

"We took about five hundred guerillas prisoners, and to keep them from eating up our rations, marched them back into Tennessee, where they belonged."

"And confiscated their horses and their money?"

"No, we turned their horses loose; that was all. I never heard anything about any money," answered Artie, promptly.

He tried to appear at ease, but he was much worried. The veteran of the Mexican War was turning out to be a strong Southern sympathizer. It looked as if there might be trouble before he left the house.

"I understand some of the soldiers had their money taken from them. But that was to be expected of the Yankees—they don't know what honor is."

"Colonel Bradner, I did not come here to be insulted!" exclaimed Artie, leaping to his feet. "I have answered your questions, now I would like you to answer mine. What about this road in front of your house? Is it the main road, or is it not?"

"It is the main road—to my plantation."

"Then the other road is the main road?"

"Yes."

"That is all I wish to know, and I'll bid you good afternoon," replied the young captain, and backed toward the hallway door.

"You're not going just yet, are you?" asked Colonel Bradner, with a quizzical tone in his voice.

"I am," said Artie, and not liking that tone, he swung around, to find himself confronted by Mrs. Bradner and two burly negroes, each of the latter with a gun in his hands.

"Up with your hands, Captain, or Joe and Sam will blow off your head," commanded the cripple, and drew at the same time a pistol from his hip pocket. The pistol was pointed at Artie's breast, while each of the guns was aimed at the side of his head.

Artie was brave, and in some instances as rash as Deck; but there were times when he kept his head cool, and this was one of these times. He had both pistol and sabre in his belt, but he knew that the slightest movement to use either of the weapons would mean to him either serious injury or death. And he was just then of a mind to keep his skin whole.

"Do you surrender?" demanded Colonel Bradner, after a painful pause, during which Artie had been doing a powerful lot of thinking.

"I don't see what else I can do," was the cool reply, and as he spoke, Artie raised his hands. But he also walked to the window,—to find it locked, and another negro standing guard outside.

"There is where you show your sense, Captain. Joe, advance and receive the captain's sabre and his pistol."

"You spoke about what was done with the guerillas at Greeger Lake. Are you going to rob me of my weapons?"

"No, you shall have them back,—when the proper time comes. If I let you keep them, you might attempt to commit suicide when left alone."

"Which means that you are going to make a prisoner of me?"

"Which means exactly that, Captain. I trust you enjoy the prospect."

"I think it is a foolish movement on your part. Do you not know that this country is overrun with Union troops, some of which are bound to come to this place sooner or later?"

"Let them come; we do not care," burst out Mrs. Bradner. "My poor brother's loss shall be avenged!" she added tragically.

"Did your brother belong to those guerillas?" questioned Artie, a light breaking in on his mind.

"He was at the head of the command which participated in the unfortunate engagement at Greeger Lake," responded the woman, tartly. "He would have won had he not been outnumbered, four to one."

"Was your brother Major Gossley?" continued Artie.

"He was and is. His command is now with General Bragg—and will soon help to wipe out this horde of villanous mudsills, who have entered our State," resumed the lady of the house, grandiloquently. "Do you remember my brother in person?"

"I remember him very well. There was a miller at Greeger Lake named Price. He had hidden away his money, and your brother made him give it up by threatening to hang him. The man was dragged to a tree and a rope placed about his neck. When the Riverlawns captured the command, your brother was compelled to give Price back his money."

At these plain words, the lady of the house grew furious. "It is a falsehood—a base, malicious, Yankee falsehood!" she screamed. "Dick, why don't you bind him and give him—a—a—the lash?"

"I'll bind him fast enough," answered the colonel. "After that, we'll see what is best to be done. Joe, is there a rope handy?"

"Yes, Mars'r," answered the foremost of the negroes.

"Take it and bind the prisoner's hands behind him. Sam, keep him well covered, and I will do the same. Between two fires, he will keep quiet enough, I'll warrant."

Without delay, the negro Joe procured the rope and walked up behind Artie. Resistance just then would have been foolish, and Artie's weapons were soon taken from him, after which he was made a close prisoner. The rope had scarcely been adjusted, when there came a loud knocking on the front door of the house.



CHAPTER XV

GOSSLEY THE GUERILLA

"Who can that be?" asked the lady of the mansion, nervously, as the knock was repeated.

"I will go and see," answered Colonel Bradner. He turned to the two negroes. "See that he doesn't get away from you."

"He shan't git de chance, Mars'r," answered Joe, who had picked up his gun again.

Arising from his couch, where he had retained his seat while covering the young captain, the crippled advocate of the Southern cause stumped to the door, walked out of the room, and closed the barrier behind him. His wife accompanied him.

Artie strained his ears to catch what might be said. A hope had entered his mind that the newcomer might be Life Knox, who had grown impatient of waiting at the forks of the road and come in this direction to find him. He felt certain that if it was the tall Kentuckian, there would presently be exceedingly "warm" times about the place.

But he was doomed to disappointment. The voice was that of a man, loud, rough, and savage, and the front door was closed with a bang. Then a long talk followed in the hallway, and the newcomer pushed his way into the sitting room.

"So we meet again," was the salutation Artie received, with a dark frown from a pair of wolf-like eyes. "Reckon you didn't expect to see me quite so soon, and under such circumstances."

"You are right,—I never expected to see you again, Major Gossley," replied Artie, for the newcomer was the noted leader of the guerillas encountered at Greeger Lake.

"How does it make you feel?"

"I haven't had time enough to consider that side of the question," Artie returned, trying to keep as calm as possible, although he realized that the coming of the guerilla leader was a bad thing for him.

"Reckon you will realize it before I have done with you," muttered Gossley. "Martha, has he been telling you anything about me?" he added, turning to his sister.



"A string of falsehoods, Dan,—a string of falsehoods! Said you actually robbed a miller,—was going to hang him because he wouldn't give up his money," ejaculated Mrs. Bradner, excitedly. "I wanted Dick to give him the lash; the base Yankee deserves it."

"He deserves a rope—as they all do," said Gossley. "It was a fine thing to steal our hosses and sell 'em, wasn't it?"

"Your horses were not stolen, as I told that lady."

"They were—and my money was taken, too. The Riverlawns are a pack of thieves,—worse than any band of raiders that ever came out of Tennessee," stormed the irate leader of the ill-fated expedition to Greeger Lake.

"How much money did you have?" questioned Artie, calmly, hoping to draw the guerilla out.

"I had nearly two thousand dollars, all told."

"In Confederate money?"

"Partly; and partly in United States scrip and gold."

"Where did you get so much money?"

The major of the guerillas scowled. As readers of the volume before this know, Gossley had obtained the money by selling a large quantity of grain, pork, hams, and bacon taken in the guerilla raids. The chief had kept the money on his person, expecting to divide with his men later. About the time the horses of the raiders were driven off, the money disappeared, stolen by some of the guerillas, but Gossley was firmly convinced that the base Yankees had relieved him of the amount.

"It's none of your business where I got the money," stormed the man. "I had it, and that's enough. Your regiment stole it,—and I'm going to get square."

"That's right, Dan; don't give him an inch," broke in Mrs. Bradner.

"I never saw your money or heard of it," added Artie, quietly.

"Of course he wouldn't acknowledge it," said Colonel Bradner, who had sunk down on the couch again.

"I've a good mind to put a bullet through you where you stand," went on the guerilla leader. "But I won't do it; I'll try another game. If I am not mistaken, you are Captain Lyon."

"I am."

"You have a brother who is a major in the Riverlawn regiment."

"Right again."

"And your father is the colonel of the command."

"I call him my father. He is in reality my uncle."

"It's the same thing—so far as I am concerned."

"I don't see how that concerns you at all."

"Don't you? I am bound to have that money back."

"We haven't got it."

"Never mind, a colonel of a regiment is responsible for the actions of his men; eh, Dick?"

"To be sure—undoubtedly," answered Colonel Bradner, and he winked his eye suggestively.

"Which means that you are going to try to get your money from Colonel Lyon?" said Artie, indignantly.

"Which means that or something like it. I don't care if the colonel pays it, or the major, so long as I get it back in gold. I won't take any more United States shinplasters. In a few months more they won't be worth the paper they are printed on."

"That's as true as you're born," put in Colonel Bradner.

"What about Confederate scrip?"

"It will be as good as gold—in a short time. But we are talking too much, and I came here on another errand." The guerilla turned to his brother-in-law. "You can keep him locked up for about forty-eight hours, can't you?"

"I had planned to lock him up before you came," answered the crippled veteran. "There is a pantry in the cellar which will make a capital cell."

"All right. Joe, lead the way, and you will follow him, Lyon. I will come after," said the guerilla chief. "March!"

"Supposing I refuse to be locked up," ventured Artie.

"I will put a bullet through your head without hesitation."

"You are a generous enemy, to say the least," was the young captain's comment; and without further words he moved off.

The colored man led the way through the hallway to the rear, where there was an enclosed stairway to the cellar. The latter place was gloomy, and the air far from wholesome. Soon the three stood before the pantry which had been mentioned. It was a square affair, built of heavy planking and with an equally heavy door. There was a bolt on the door, and likewise a padlock.

"Now, Captain, you will step inside," said the guerilla, grimly. "And let me utter a word of caution. One of the negroes shall stand guard, and at the first attempt to escape he shall fire on you."

Artie entered the pantry, and the door was immediately closed, locked, and bolted. A moment later Gossley walked away and returned upstairs. What the negro Joe did, Artie did not know.

The cellar had been damp and unwholesome, the pantry was more so, and the first breath of air he took into his lungs made Artie shudder. Was it possible he would be kept in such a place as this for forty-eight hours, and in his wet clothing?

"I must get out,—if such a thing is possible," he said to himself. "But I must be careful what I do, or the guard will shoot at me. Those negroes fear their master, and they are bound to obey orders."

Waiting for a while, to make certain he was really alone, Artie brought forth a match and lit it. The tiny blaze revealed to him a long splinter of pitch-pine board, and this he ignited into a tiny torch, not daring to let it burn too freely for fear of being smothered by the smoke.

As has been said, the pantry was built of heavy planking. It was five feet from front to back and side to side, and in the rear were several shelves, now swept of their contents. Behind the shelving were several small boards, put up as if they covered a cellar window. Overhead were the beams and boards of the parlor floor of the mansion, and beneath was a cement bottom as hard as stone.

The under shelf in the closet was quite low, and removing the shelves above it, Artie used it as a seat, and gave himself up to his reflections. It must be confessed that he felt decidedly blue. He was caged like a rat in a trap, and what his captors intended to do next with him there was no telling.

"I wonder if they will send to father for money?" he asked himself. "Gossley intimated as much. This is a new way of handling a prisoner in this country. Gossley ought to be an Italian brigand. I shouldn't wonder if he sends a note to the colonel, threatening, if the money is not forthcoming, to shoot me. And he will shoot me, too—there is no doubt of that. The man has no more heart than a grindstone—he showed that when he attempted to hang Price, the miller."

Artie was not one to sit down and kick his heels in dejection. To him, 'while there was life there was hope,' and having examined the sides and front of his prison, he turned his attention to the rear. A little work loosened one of the small boards previously mentioned. He was about to tear the board away, when he heard footsteps in the cellar; and he shoved the board back into place.

It was Martha Bradner who had come down, accompanied by the negro Joe. Evidently the woman wanted nothing more than to render the young Unionist uncomfortable.

"Hope you like the cell?" she began.

"Thank you, Madam."

"What is that strange smell? Have you been burning something?"

"Nothing of any consequence," returned Artie. He had put out the pitch-pine torch and hid it behind him.

"My brother is going to get square for the terrible manner in which your regiment treated him," went on the lady of the house, maliciously.

"He is holding me for a hostage, is that it?"

"You will find out fast enough, young man."

"Is he going to make his demands at once?"

"No. He has important work for General Bragg that must first be attended to," answered the lady, who had not yet learned the value of silence upon certain occasions.

"Then he is a messenger for the general, eh? That is quite a high position to occupy."

"No higher than Daniel deserves," was the airy reply. "My brother is a great soldier, were his real ability recognized."

"No doubt he is a big man,—if General Bragg trusts him to do his scouting for him. It's hard work to play the part of a spy in a Union camp, I can tell you that."

"Daniel is fully equal to the task," said the lady.

She seemed totally ignorant of the fact that Artie was "drawing her out," and that she was letting her tongue run altogether too fast. Her brother had told her something of his mission, and she wanted this Northern mudsill to know what an important man that brother really was.

"Perhaps your brother won't get back into the Confederate lines to tell all that he has learned," continued Artie.

"He'll be back to-morrow morning. He has a first-class horse, and the Union password, and he—"

"Martha! What are you doing down there?" came in the voice of Colonel Dick Bradner, as he appeared at the head of the cellar stairs. "I thought you promised Dan to leave the prisoner alone for the present."

"I am not hurting him—nor is he hurting me," called back Mrs. Bradner.

"I wouldn't talk too much to him—at least, not about our affairs or Dan's."

"Colonel, I am able to manage for myself," was the icy response to this suggestion. "If it had not been for me we would not have captured this—this good-for-nothing Yankee."

"Perhaps that is true, my dear. But be sure and tell him nothing about Dan."

"Oh, dear, I can never do anything without your interference!" burst out the lady, petulantly. "Joe, lock him in again;" and she flounced out of the cellar, past the colonel, who tried in vain to detain her, and up to her own room. The negro did as ordered, and Artie was left once more to himself.

What the captain had learned filled him with interest. Gossley was not only going to hold him for the money that might be gotten out of such a proceeding, but he was going to hold him until a secret mission for General Bragg could be executed. The guerilla chief was now a spy within the Union lines.

"If only Life knew that, and knew I was here," he half groaned. "I must get away from here—not only for my own sake, but in order to make Gossley a prisoner and thus prevent him from carrying any news of importance to the Confederates. How can I get away?"

Over and over again Artie asked himself that question. In the meantime he began work on the board again, this time without a light. After several minutes of twisting and pulling the board came off, revealing several panes of glass, set in a window frame. But beyond the glass was a mass of dirt, showing that the cellar opening had been completely closed up from the outside.

For the instant the captain was dismayed; then his natural buoyancy of spirit returned. "I can dig that dirt away, sooner or later," he muttered, and set to work removing the glass.

A job of this sort looks easy, on paper; in reality Artie found the task quite hard, and it took the best part of an hour to remove the panes without making a noise. The glass out of the way, he drew his pocket-knife and began to dig at the dirt, which came away easily, falling in clods into his hand. The clods he placed on the cement flooring directly under the opening.

The ground had been banked up for nearly three feet, so it took some time to reach daylight. But at last the blade of the knife cut into the roots of the sodding, and Artie felt that liberty was only a question of a few minutes more. He worked away diligently, and soon had a hole as big as his hand. Through this he peered anxiously. Was there a guard outside, ready to frustrate his design?



CHAPTER XVI

THE HOLDING-UP OF THE CLOSED CARRIAGE

Artie found it still raining outside, harder than before, and the landscape was dreary and deserted,—neither man nor beast being in sight.

"That remark about putting the negroes on guard was only meant to frighten me," he thought. "Now to get out and find my horse, and I'll make it warm for Major Dan Gossley and his hot-headed relatives. I'll show them that they cannot make a Union officer a prisoner with impunity."

The young captain recommenced his digging, and presently the hole was sufficiently large to admit the passage of his body, for Artie was of slender build, and advancement in the army had not puffed him up with pride. Undaunted by the rain, which covered the passageway with mud, he crawled forth, on to the mansion lawn. A hasty look around convinced him that his egress had not been discovered.

He was on a side lawn, and to get to the gateway of the road, must pass to the front of the house. But wishing to remain unnoticed, he did not take the direct course, but backed away with all speed for the nearest grove of trees. Once these were reached, he made a long detour, coming out near the spot where he had left his animal tied to a tree.

The horse was gone, and as the equine was one not in the habit of either breaking or straying away, he rightfully concluded that Colonel Dick Bradner had had him taken to the plantation stables, directly after the surrender in the sitting room.

"I've got to have the horse, that is all there is to it," he muttered. "I wonder if I can't get him without arousing the whole household?"

It must be remembered that Artie was unarmed, and he knew that if discovered, it would go hard with him. But he was full of grit, and after a moment's consideration, started on another detour, this time in the direction of the quarters for horses, visible through a grove of walnut trees.

The larger of the barns reached, Artie found the doors wide open, for the day was now fairly warm despite the rain, and he slipped inside. As he did so, a negro voice broke on his ear:—

"De Yankees da hab got ter run, Da cannot fight no mo', We'll knock 'em wid de sword an' gun, An' da'll surrender suah!"

It was the negro Sam who was doing the singing, while cleaning up Artie's horse, that had been tied up in a large box stall. The colored man was taking his time at the job, thinking he had the whole day before him.

Ere Artie caught sight of either Sam or the horse, he espied something else which made his heart bound with satisfaction. On a feed-box lay the gun Sam had handled while on guard in the sitting room. It was double-barrelled and loaded ready for use.

Making certain that the negro was the only person about the stables, the captain advanced cautiously and secured the firearm. He had it well in hand, when Sam swung around and discovered him.

"Who—wha—what—" began the slave, staring at him as though he were a ghost.

"Silence!" whispered Artie, and pointed the gun at the negro's head.

"Please don't go fo' to shoot me, Cap'n!"

"I won't, if you will remain quiet and answer my questions truthfully. If you attempt to cry out—"

"I won't cry out—'deed I won't!" was the trembling answer.

"All right. Now tell me the truth. Where is Major Gossley?"

"Went out, sah, 'bout quarter of an hour ago."

"On horseback?"

"Yes, sah."

"Do you know where he went?"

"I ain't suah, sah, but t'ink he went to Rover."

"Did he say anything about coming back?"

"He dun tole missus he would be back in about two houhs."

"You are telling me the truth? Remember, if you lie to me it may cost you your life."

"I'se tole yo' de truf, Cap'n—deed I has," answered Sam, earnestly. He was still so scared he could scarcely speak.

"I will soon find out. I am glad to see you have rubbed down my horse. Now saddle him as quick as you can."

"Yes, sah."

The negro sprang to work, and as he moved around Artie continued to keep him covered with the gun. In a few minutes the horse was ready for use, and then the young captain made the slave bring out one of Colonel Dick Bradner's animals likewise. Both were taken to a rear doorway, out of sight of the mansion.

"Now get up there and come along with me," said Artie, as he hopped into the saddle. "And no treachery."

"Whar yo' gwine ter take me, Cap'n?"

"To the Union camp, so that you can't give your master the alarm. Do what I want you to do, and you will suffer no harm. In the sitting room you were only obeying your master's orders, so I shan't blame you for that."

At these words Sam was evidently much relieved, and he consented to show the way by a back path to the side road. With the negro in front of him, Artie put spurs to his steed, and soon gained the fork where he had separated from Life Knox. He found the captain of the seventh company taking it easy under the thick shelter of a clump of trees and some brush.

"Well, Captain, you've been a long time getting back," he remarked, as he gazed questioning at Artie with the gun and then at the negro. "Had some adventure, I reckon?"

"That's it, Life, and there is no time to waste in giving particulars. I wonder how near the nearest troops are?"

"A company of mounted infantry passed this place less than five minutes ago."

"Can we overtake them, do you think?"

"I don't see why not. They weren't moving fast. They had struck the wrong road, and thought some of going back."

"We must bring them back. Come on!" and away went the captain, with Sam beside him and Life Knox just in advance. As they progressed, Artie told his tale, to which the tall Kentuckian listened closely.

"You are right," he said, when Artie had concluded. "We must capture this Gossley by all means; and it will be as well to put a guard over the mansion and place Colonel Bradner and his wildcat of a wife under military arrest. There is no telling how much harm that couple has been doing the Union cause."

Through the rain they soon discerned the company of mounted infantry returning, having found the mud and quicksands too much for the horses. They were a body of Michigan men, under the command of Captain Allen Fordick.

"I am under no special orders, having finished my mission to this neighborhood," said the captain, when they had told him why he was wanted. "I'll take hold with pleasure. That spy ought to be captured, if such a thing is possible. I thought the rebels had given up the spy business since Williams and Peter were hung."

The captain of the mounted infantry referred to a case which early in the month had challenged the attention of the entire North and South. Two young men presented themselves at the headquarters of Colonel Baird and represented themselves as inspectors from Washington, sent on to inspect the outposts. They showed proper papers supposed to be signed by Adjutant General Thomas and by General, afterwards President, Garfield, then chief of Rosecrans's staff, and were allowed to begin their work. But soon a suspicion was excited, and the pair were captured just as they were about to pass out of the Union lines. They were searched, and the sword of one was found to be marked C. S. A.—Confederate States of America. General Rosecrans was telegraphed to and denounced them as pretenders. A drum-head court-martial was ordered at quarter to five in the morning, and the two Confederates broke down and confessed. They begged for clemency, but orders had been to hang them if they were found guilty, and at half past ten in the morning they were executed in the presence of a large body of troops. This act was denounced in the South, but, terrible as it was, it was in strict accord with the rules of war.

From the negro, the three captains, riding abreast, in advance of the mounted infantry, learned in what direction lay the road Major Gossley would most likely use in returning from Rover. It was little more than a foot-path, running through the plantation fields and coming up over a foot-bridge to the creek in the rear.

"I would advise hiding in the woods close to the house," said Artie, when consulted. "A dozen men can surround the house, to prevent the colonel and his wife from taking French leave."

"But they may have taken leave already," suggested Life, and as he spoke he saw a covered carriage approaching. "Perhaps they are in this."

"They must be!" cried Artie, as the carriage came to a sudden halt, and the negro spoke to somebody inside. "Sam, isn't that Joe on the box?"

"Yes, Cap'n."

"Then it is Colonel Bradner's rig, sure," went on the young officer. "Forward, and we'll soon have them prisoners!" and away he dashed in the lead. By the time he had come alongside of the turnout the negro coachman had turned about and was lashing the team furiously, in an attempt to escape in the opposite direction.

"Stop that team, or I will fire!" ordered Artie, and aimed the gun he still carried.

At these words a scream came from the carriage, and then from under a black canvas cover was thrust the face of Mrs. Bradner.

"Don't you dare stop us, you miserable Yankee!" she screamed. "I won't have it!"

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Martha," came from the colonel, in a lower tone.

"Stop, I say," went on Artie, and placed the muzzle of the gun within two feet of the negro driver's head. Without delay Joe drew up, and the carriage came to a stop.

"Go ahead! Don't stop!" screamed Mrs. Bradner, more unreasonable than ever.

"Madam, you had best keep quiet," said Captain Fordick. "We know what you and your husband have been doing to Captain Lyon, and you can both consider yourselves under military arrest."

"Under arrest!" gasped the lady. "How dare you speak to me in this insulting fashion!"

"I dare by the authority of the United States. You will please keep quiet while the negro drives you back to the house."

"I won't keep quiet! I'll—"

"Oh, Martha, shut up!" broke in the colonel. "You'll only make matters worse."

"What, Dick Bradner, do you turn against me?" was the indignant query. "Have you no backbone left to stand up against these—these vile Northern mudsills?"

"If you don't keep quiet I'll have you bound and gagged, Madam," said Captain Fordick, after whispering to Artie.

"You won't do—"

"Yes, I will. Cameron and Waltling, advance and bind this woman. If she says another word, gag her."

For one moment the lady of the plantation glared at the speaker. Then her courage gave way, and she sank back and burst into tears.

"Oh, please—please don't touch me!" she moaned. "I'll—I'll keep quiet—I didn't mean anything by what I said."

"Very well then—see you remain silent." The captain of the mounted infantry turned to the negro driver. "Turn back to where you came from, and lose no time in driving."

"Yes, Mars'r Ossifer!" replied Joe, promptly, and there was a grin on his ebony face, as though he rather enjoyed the discomfiture of his mistress.

With roads so bad, it was hard work to get the closed carriage back to the mansion, and once it looked as if the turnout would have to be abandoned in the mud. But the trip was finally concluded, and the colonel and his downcast spouse were marched into the sitting room.

"Now, Colonel Bradner, the boot is on the other leg," remarked Artie, and it must be confessed the young captain could not help smiling. "How do you like the situation?"

"I don't like it," grumbled the crippled advocate of the Southern cause. "But I have sense enough not to kick;" with a significant glance at his wife.

"Dick Bradner, if we ever—" began Mrs. Bradner, when a look from Captain Fordick silenced her. All three of the Union captains now questioned Bradner concerning Gossley's return.

"He won't be back—he has gone to join Bragg," said the colonel, before his wife could speak.

"He will be back—to punish you all," burst out Mrs. Bradner, and then covered her face with her hands, as she realized the mistake she had made. "Oh, what have I done now?" she wailed.

"Made a fool of yourself again," answered the colonel, bluntly. "That speech may cost Dan his life."

"Oh, I didn't mean it;" and she burst into tears. Leaving her husband to comfort her as he saw fit, the Unionists left the couple in the sitting room. Several weapons they had possessed had been taken from them, and now a guard was stationed in the hallway outside of the door, and another guard in the garden under the sitting-room windows. This done, the three captains prepared to capture Major Dan Gossley as soon as he should make his appearance.



CHAPTER XVII

THE CAPTURE OF THE CONFEDERATE SPY

As previously agreed upon, the mounted infantry had secreted themselves about the mansion and along the foot-path leading across the brook bridge in the rear. The latter point was well wooded, and it was an easy matter for the thirty or forty men stationed at that point to keep out of sight. It still rained incessantly, and the riders were glad enough to keep under the densest trees they could find.

Artie and Life took positions at the head of the company across the bridge, leaving Captain Fordick on the opposite side of the foot-path with half of the soldiers. In these positions nearly an hour went by without anything unusual turning up.

Artie had been worrying about what the general would say if Life and he did not report at headquarters, but the tall Kentuckian assured him that matters had been arranged by having one of the mounted infantrymen take a written report. "Others have already tried to get through, and found the road impassable," he added. "So the news won't be new even when it does come."

Presently from a distance came the splashing of a horse's hoofs through the pools of water formed in the path, and Artie held up his hand significantly. "Wait until we make sure it is not the wrong person," he whispered.

A few seconds passed, and a man rode up. He was dressed in the suit of a Union soldier, and was not Gossley. He headed directly for the mansion, but soon turned and rode for the barn.

"What can this mean?" asked Life, but Artie shook his head in perplexity. Then came the sound of another horse's hoofs, and Major Gossley rode into view. He, too, started for the mansion, but the other arrival hailed him from the barn; and both entered that structure.

"Now I reckon we'll hear something worth listening to," said Life Knox. "Come on, Artie." He turned to an infantryman standing by. "Send your captain after us without delay."

There was, however, no need to send for Captain Fordick, for he was already coming to join them. Borrowing a pistol to take the place of the gun, Artie led the way, and the other two came after. Soon they were by the side of the barn, and in a position to overhear all that was being said by those inside.

"It's queer I missed you, Rose," Gossley was saying. "I don't understand it."

"I had to be careful not to excite suspicion, Gossley, and it was some time before I could get away. But I've got the information for you, and if you want to do General Bragg any good you had best make off with it without delay."

"Well, what is the information?"

"Here it is,—on a map I prepared last night. Here is the territory with the names of the troops stationed at different points. The attack on the centre and left is only a ruse, and the main attack will be on Bragg's right, which the Union army will try to turn. Once the turn is made, Rosecrans intends to push on with all speed until Tullahoma is reached."

"He'll never get there," muttered Major Gossley. "We'll fight them on the right for all they are worth, and beat them back; see if we don't. Lieutenant, have a drink," and he pulled a whiskey-flask from his pocket. Both men drank a large portion of the fiery liquor, and the Confederate spy returned the flask to his pocket. The map was stowed away, inside of the major's boot.

"The leather is split in two," he explained to his companion. "Even if the boot was pulled off they wouldn't discover the map."

"You are better prepared than Major Andre," laughed his companion. "Well, I must be getting back. Good-by, and good luck to you, Major Gossley."

"The same to you, Lieutenant Blevlich; and you can rest assured General Bragg won't forget your service."

The two shook hands and prepared to leave the barn. But Captain Fordick had sent out a signal, and a score of infantrymen on their horses surrounded the building.

"Surrender!" was the command of the mounted infantry's captain. "Surrender, or we will fire upon you!"

"Trapped!" yelled Gossley, in consternation, and his bronzed face grew pale. His companion for the moment said nothing.

"Do you surrender, or not?" demanded Captain Fordick.

"Who are you?"

"I am Captain Fordick, commanding the Fordick Michigan mounted infantry, unattached," was the reply. "But you haven't answered my question yet."

"I won't surrender, to be hung for what I've done," burst out the traitorous lieutenant, and cutting his horse, he urged him out of the barn. "Back, if you value your life!" and he thrust his pistol into Captain Artie Lyon's face.

The young captain was about to fire on the fellow, when Life Knox's weapon rang out, and the lieutenant pitched forward in his saddle and fell down at his horse's side. Frightened, the steed took to his heels, running directly for the brook. The lieutenant's foot had caught fast in the stirrup and he was dragged along, his head striking the ground at every step. In a twinkle, horse and man had disappeared into the water together.

In the meantime Gossley had fired, and an infantryman riding behind Captain Fordick was struck in the hip. The Confederate spy fired half a dozen shots, and then leaped from his horse's back into the hay-mow above. As he disappeared from view he yelled that he would kill anybody who attempted to capture him.

"Better get back," said Life. "There is no use in running a useless risk. We'll make him come down from his perch as fast as Davy Crockett brought the 'possum from the tree."

The advice was good, and captains and men scattered to points where the Confederate could not get a chance at him.

"Now, if you'll let me take the lead I'll bring him down in short order," said the captain of the seventh company of the Riverlawns.

"All right, do as you please," answered the Michigan captain, and Artie nodded in approval.

Advancing on foot to a tree directly behind the barn, Life called out to Gossley,—

"Are you coming down, Gossley?"

"Not much."

"You had better give yourself up. We are about fifty to one, you know."

"I won't give myself up. You'll hang me as you hung Williams and Peter. I'm going to die game."

"Wouldn't you rather be hung than burnt alive?" went on Life, coolly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that if you won't come down and surrender, we'll burn you out."

"You can't do it. The place is too wet."

"Well, we'll smoke you out then, and shoot you as soon as you appear. If you want to become an ordinary prisoner, now is your chance. I won't do any talking with you after we have applied the torch."

At this Gossley began to say some very uncomplimentary things concerning the Unionists in general and those outside in particular. But the tall Kentuckian cut him short.

"I'll give you exactly two minutes in which to make up your mind," he went on.

"Go to thunder!" growled Gossley.

"I'll go and light that torch," answered Life, and retreated.

At the end of exactly one minute and a half Gossley called to him.

"Say there!"

"Have you made up your mind to come down?"

"If I give myself up, what will you do with me?"

"Turn you over to the commander at headquarters."

"As an ordinary prisoner of war?"

"No, as a rebel spy."

"Then I won't come down," howled Gossley, and continued to say uncomplimentary things.

But when Life really advanced with a lighted torch, his courage failed him, and just as some loose hay was lighted, he called out that he would give in and threw down his pistols. In another moment he came down himself and submitted to having his hands bound behind him. Then Artie took possession of the map placed in the bootleg.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"Turn it over to General Mitchell, who will probably take the case to General Rosecrans."

"You can't prove anything against me," blustered the Confederate.

"Never mind, we can try pretty hard," said Life Knox, dryly.

"Have you done anything up to the house?"

"You will learn in time, I reckon," concluded Life, and hurried off toward the brook.

Here it was ascertained that the traitorous lieutenant had paid for his treachery with his life. The horse had dragged him over the rough stony bottom of the brook until the man's head was fairly crushed in by hoofs and stones. The negroes Joe and Sam were set to work digging a grave close to the brook, and the remains were soon after buried in this,—where they still lie, unnamed, and well-nigh forgotten.

It was now getting late, and all felt they must be on the way. Yet every man was hungry, and it was decided that a meal should first be had at Colonel's Bradner's expense. The negro cook, who had been hiding about the kitchen, was brought to light, and made to promise to get ready the best spread the plantation could provide, and it must be acknowledged that she kept her word.

As Captain Fordick was not willing to escort a woman prisoner back to camp, a detail was left at the mansion, taking both the lady of the house and her husband into custody. Every weapon about the place was confiscated, and the colored people were placed under strict surveillance, that they might not help master and mistress in secret.

Mrs. Bradner wept bitterly when told that her brother was captured and would be taken to the Union headquarters as a spy. On her knees she begged Artie, Life, and Captain Fordick in turn to let Gossley go. But this was, of course, out of the question. Now that matters had turned out so favorably for him, Artie could not help but feel sorry for the lady, who had allowed her mistaken patriotism to lead her so far astray, yet he could do nothing for her, and left the place as soon as the dinner was finished.

Two hours of hard riding brought the infantry and their prisoner to general headquarters, and here Gossley was turned over to the proper authorities, who sent him to a western prison, there to remain until the close of the war. The head of the staff, although busy with numerous other reports, listened with close attention to Artie's tale, and placed the map taken from the spy on file.

"It was a good bit of work, Captain Lyon," he said. "And it is likely to be remembered to your credit."

"It was only my duty, sir," answered Artie. "Any Union soldier would have done as much."

"Possibly. But let me say, it is a big thing to catch a spy," and then Artie was dismissed to join his company, along with Life Knox. The unattached infantrymen were ordered to remain in the vicinity of Colonel Bradner's plantation, which was afterwards transformed into a temporary hospital.

By this time the cavalry, of which the Riverlawns formed a portion, had passed through Eagleville, to do some sharp skirmishing at Rover. Here the Confederates attempted to make a stand, but the forces under General Mitchell were too powerful for them, and they broke and filed down the road leading to Unionville and Shelbyville. At the same time another cavalry force made a demonstration on the extreme left, and some infantry began to operate about Woodbury. Thus was Bragg completely blinded to what the true intention of the Union commander was, and sent force after force to his left when he should have hurried them in exactly the opposite direction.

When Artie reached his command, to relieve Lieutenant Black, he found Deck in his old place at the head of the battalion. The major was pale and nervous, and probably weaker than he cared to show, yet he insisted on remaining where he was, against the advice of his father and both Majors Truman and Belthorpe.

"We're bound to drive the Confederates as far as Unionville before nightfall," he said, enthusiastically. "The battalion has been doing splendidly, and Black couldn't have done better."

The colonel was also glad to see Artie back, and astonished at the tale the young man had to tell. But the talk between the two was cut short by an order from General Mitchell. They had been halting just outside of Rover. Now they were commanded to proceed to a side road and cut off any Confederates who were trying to escape to Unionville from that direction.

In two minutes the cavalry was off on a gallop, feeling that some hot work was in store for them. And that feeling did not prove a disappointment.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE EVACUATION OF TULLAHOMA

On the afternoon of this 23d day of June, General Granger had left Triune, with his forces, and after but little fighting had driven the Confederates back to Christiana, a small village on the road from Murfreesboro to Shelbyville. At the same time the cavalry under General Mitchell—commonly called Stanley's cavalry, although the major-general was absent—moved along as already told, having with them the Riverlawns. The two commands met at the village mentioned, and after a brief conference it was decided that both should proceed onward in an endeavor to drive the enemy from Guy's Gap back into the rifle-pits at Shelbyville.

Going into the Gap after the Confederates was no easy task. The way was rough in some spots, and knee-deep with mud in others, and the forces went forward in the lightest marching order possible. It was out of the question to use one road alone, as each regiment that passed over it rendered it all the more torn up and difficult of travel, and troops were consequently sent on in several ways.

Colonel Lyon rode at the head of his column, with Deck beside him. The Riverlawns were riding by fours, but now the way widened, and the horsemen came up by eights. For half an hour no enemy had been sighted, but now the vedettes came back announcing several battalions just above the bend.

"And some of the company are sharpshooters," said the leader. "They picked off poor Rolloson at a distance of three hundred yards."

Without hesitation Colonel Lyon summoned Major Belthorpe to his side and explained the situation. "I wish you would send Captain Knox's company to the front. I think it would be as well for him to spread his men to the left of the road, but he can use his own judgment after he sees the lay of the land."

As we know, Captain Knox's men were more or less experts at shooting, they being Kentuckians who were used to handling firearms almost daily in the woods and on the border. The order was transmitted to Life, who took his command ahead on the double-quick. This accomplished, the remaining companies continued on the road until another bend was gained.

The Confederate sharpshooters had stationed themselves behind some heavy brush, not daring to climb the trees for fear of being surrounded. No sooner had the seventh company of the Riverlawns appeared than they opened a sharp fire, wounding two privates.

The flashes of fire and the smoke served to locate the sharpshooters in spite of the downpour of rain, but instead of answering the shots at once, Life took his command around to the shelter of some other brush. Then he commenced to work up on the Confederates' rear, picking off three men in less than as many minutes.

By this time Deck had his battalion ready for a rush, and as soon as Life sent word where he was located, the young major started forward on a gallop. He, however, went but two hundred yards, just enough to give the enemy the impression that a direct attack was contemplated. Up came the Confederates, as expected, firing as rapidly as they could. Then, realizing how they were caught between two fires, they started to retreat, only to find themselves faced by Life Knox's command.

"Take aim! Fire!" cried the tall Kentuckian, and the command discharged their weapons, not as a regular company would, but as soon as a proper "bead" could be drawn. This fire was most deadly, and when Deck ordered another advance, the Confederates began to flee in confusion, about half of them taking to the main road of Guy's Gap, and the balance taking to the mountain trails.

"Forward, men, we have them on the run now!" shouted Major Deck, waving his sabre. His illness was now forgotten, and he rode well in advance, by Captain Abbey's side. The first battalion was far in advance of the rest of the regiment, and as it swept along, Life Knox's company joined it in the rear without waiting for Major Belthorpe's battalion to appear.

The road now led upward, and at the top of a rise, the Confederate force took another stand. There were in all about four hundred men, about the same number Deck possessed, counting the seventh company in with his own. Without hesitation the major ordered the charge, and up the hill went the cavalry at full speed, firing as they advanced.

The cracking of guns was incessant, and now came a fierce hand-to-hand conflict, as the first and second companies of the Riverlawns rode directly upon the front rank of the enemy. Infantry and cavalry splashed and slipped in the mud, and many a sabre-stroke fell harmlessly upon the flying ends of a water-soaked army cloak. But the top of the hill was gained and held, and with a yell of defiance the Confederates fell back to where their main body was located, at the other end of the Gap. Deck then halted, to allow the rest of the regiment to overtake him.

It was decided by General Mitchell to follow up every advantage gained, and soon another advance was ordered, directly along the main road of Guy's Gap, and for nearly two hours the battle raged, the Confederates trying vainly to hold their own. At last they broke, and fled directly to the rifle-pits in front of Shelbyville.

"We've got them pretty well back now," said Artie, to Life Knox, after the engagement had been going on for the best part of two hours. "I don't believe General Mitchell will want us to charge those rifle-pits to-day."

"There is nothing like keeping at them when they have been retreating," answered the tall Kentuckian. "By to-morrow they may be braced up again."

"Yes, but Wheeler is here with a very large force of cavalry, Life."

"So I've heard. Well, we'll obey orders, I reckon, no matter what they are," concluded the commander of the seventh company.

Orders were not long in coming. It was about six o'clock in the evening, and now General Granger joined Mitchell with his infantry once more, and another advance was ordered, with the cavalry again to the front. Away went the horsemen, straight for the trenches. Many took flying leaps over the openings, sending the mud into the very faces of the surprised and bewildered Confederates. The attack was short and sharp, and unable to withstand the shock of cavalry backed up by Granger's fine infantry, the enemy threw down their arms and started pell-mell for Shelbyville proper. The Union forces pursued, and captured a number of Confederates near the bank of Duck River. The larger portion of the Confederate cavalry, under General Wheeler, however, escaped by swimming their animals across the turbulent and swollen stream. At seven o'clock the town had surrendered, giving up a number of small arms, three cannon, and a quantity of corn, which proved highly acceptable.

The corps commanders were now called to general headquarters and each received his orders in writing. McCook was to advance on the Shelbyville pike, turn to the left on the Wartrace road, and seize and hold Liberty Gap; General Granger to threaten Middleton; General Thomas to advance on the Manchester pike, and hold, if possible, Hoover's Gap; some cavalry under Turchin to establish a lookout toward McMinnville, and the balance of the cavalry under Mitchell to attack the rebel cavalry at Middleton.

These movements were executed promptly, despite floods and the wretched condition of the roads. The fighting was sharp, the Confederates disputing every foot of territory. Both sides suffered heavily, and the weather made matters worse, yet nobody grumbled, for the enlisted men were now becoming hardened to the campaign, and realized that this fighting was only the introduction to the tremendous battles still to come.

The morning of the 28th found Thomas ready to start the move which was to bring the campaign to a climax. McCook and Crittenden were slowly but surely concentrating at Manchester. Thomas's first movement was to send Colonel Wilder to Dechard, where this command destroyed about three hundred yards of the railroad which the Confederates had been using. The next day the Tracy City railroad was also placed in a useless condition.

On the 29th of June the army was ready for the final blow at Tullahoma. The advanced troops were within a mile and three-quarters of the city. The corps of McCook and Crittenden came up and closed in, and the main body of the cavalry, including the Riverlawns, arrived at Manchester. Thus it was felt Tullahoma was, after a nine days' campaign, completely at the mercy of the Northern forces.

A surprise now awaited General Rosecrans. A citizen of the town came to Thomas with the report that General Bragg had fled, taking all his troops with him. At first the Union commander could not believe the news, and, to make sure, he sent General Steedman ahead to make an investigation. The general marched into Tullahoma, captured a few prisoners, and verified the report. Instantly General Rosecrans laid plans to pursue the flying Confederates. But though a few skirmishes resulted, and a brave stand was taken by both sides at Elk River, the pursuit proved of no avail, and Bragg crossed the Cumberland Mountains unmolested, leaving, as the fruits of the campaign, Middle Tennessee free from Confederate domination.

It has been said by several authorities that the Tullahoma campaign was the greatest conducted by General Rosecrans, being even superior to that which came immediately after. The enemy was dislodged from first one strongly fortified position and then another, and sent flying over the mountains in the wildest confusion. Nearly seventeen hundred prisoners were taken, and also eleven pieces of artillery and an immense amount of army stores. The loss to the Union army was about five hundred in killed, wounded, and missing.

"We've cleared them out!" cried Artie, enthusiastically, when the news went the rounds that the Confederates had really crossed the mountains and were on their way to Chattanooga.

"Yes, and the two armies are just about where they were last summer," answered Deck. He was resting on a cot in his rain-soaked tent, while his brother sat on a camp-stool, writing a letter to the folks at home. "My, but what a washing-out we've had!"

Despite the hardships, however, Deck was feeling better steadily, until it could almost be said that he was his old self again. He had made several inquiries about Thomas Derwiddie, the Confederate whose life he had saved, but nothing had been heard concerning the escaped prisoner.

In a skirmish on Duck River, Colonel Lyon had been struck in the leg. The wound was not serious, but the officer was told by the surgeon who attended him that he had best keep out of the saddle for a while, and this advice was now being followed. As a consequence, the command of the Riverlawns had fallen upon Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon.

The soldiers were feeling good, and the Fourth of July was celebrated in camp in a rousing fashion, with huge camp-fires, a double supply of rations, and the roasting of several small porkers confiscated at Manchester, when that town was first entered. In the evening several pieces of "home-made" fireworks were set off, and the more hilarious of the boys in blue got up a dance, ladies being represented by several cavalrymen who had appropriated portions of feminine attire found in deserted houses that had been passed. The "boys" were bound to have their play at any cost, no matter how tired the recent hard marching and riding had left them.

The appearance of the Army of the Cumberland in the centre of Tennessee once again filled the inhabitants with dismay. Bragg had assured them of his protection, and the planters had taken him at his word and tilled and cultivated their fields. Now, instead of these products going to enrich the Confederacy, they were confiscated by the Union forces, as a necessity of war. As was natural, the farmers protested; but these protests were of no avail, excepting in rare cases, when payments were made for what was taken.

The Riverlawns had been ordered to Manchester, and were encamped not far from the railroad. They were now ordered to Salem, and reaching there, found themselves brigaded with Major-General Stanley's entire force.

"Something is up," remarked Major Deck to Major Belthorpe. "But what it is I can't imagine."

"I heard something said about a shortness of horses," answered Kate Belthorpe's brother. "Perhaps we are to go on a raid and see what we can round up."

Major Belthorpe's surmise proved correct, as Deck soon learned by the orders given him. The entire cavalry was to combine in a grand sweep to Huntsville, Alabama, rounding up as many horses and as much cattle and other live stock as possible. The advance was to cover several miles of territory, and a dozen different roads were pursued, the start being made on July the 12th.

As Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon was suffering from an attack of chills and fever, Major Lyon was placed in command of the regiment. He was instructed to move almost directly southward, by the way of a small village called Crespin, the name of which has since been changed. The road was a fair one, and ten o'clock in the morning saw the Riverlawns on the move. It was not intended that the round-up should last more than four or five days, and the cavalry went in the lightest possible marching order.

Less than ten miles had been covered when the scouts in advance, under Captain Ripley of the eighth company, sent word back that a small detachment of Confederates were in advance, driving about thirty horses southward just as hard as they could. Besides the horses, they had three Union prisoners, one of whom wore the uniform of a captain of artillery.

"Three prisoners and thirty horses," mused Deck. "We must stop them, by all means." Without delay he sent for Majors Truman and Belthorpe and gave the necessary orders, and soon the Riverlawns were making the best possible speed over the torn-up pike. A distance of two miles was covered in less than twenty minutes, when another report came in that astonished Deck beyond measure. The report was as follows:—

"Confederate force, horses, and prisoners have utterly disappeared. No buildings or woods for them to hide in. Cannot guess what has become of them. Looks as if the earth had swallowed them up, but the quicksands are not quite bad enough for that. Will keep our eyes wide open, but that is all we can do."

Without delay Deck, accompanied by Major Belthorpe, rode forward to investigate.



CHAPTER XIX

IN WHICH THE RIVERLAWNS ARE CAUGHT IN A TRAP

To have a body of the enemy disappear utterly from view when there were no hills or woods in which they might hide, was a new experience to Major Lyon, and it was small wonder, therefore, that his brow contracted into a frown as he urged Ceph ahead at topmost speed.

"What do you make of this, Tom?" he questioned, of the major of the second battalion.

"Hang me if I know what to make," was the answer. "Captain Ripley must be losing his eyesight if he can't keep forty or fifty men and nearly a hundred horses in sight."

"Then his whole command must be losing their eyesight, for the enemy is gone, and nobody can even guess where to."

"We'll solve the mystery somehow, Deck. But we ought to beware that we don't fall into some trap."

It took but a few minutes to reach Captain Ripley's advance guard, consisting of one-third of the eighth company. The captain himself had the blankest look on his face Deck had ever beheld.

"It gets me, Major; never heard of such a thing in all my born days," declared the captain. "We saw them as plain as day, riding behind yonder hedge. They didn't come out at the other end, and so I and three of the others climbed into the trees, only to find the vicinity of the brush deserted. Reckon the earth has swallowed 'em up."

"Well, Ripley, they have gone somewhere, that's as sure as guns," was the answer of the young major. "Move a portion of your men to the upper end of the brushwood, and another portion to the other side, and we'll endeavor to get to the bottom of this mystery."

The command was obeyed, and meanwhile Deck sent back word to Major Truman to bring up the regiment and scatter it in a huge circle around the vicinity. "Unless they have slipped on ahead, we are bound to get them," he said to Tom Belthorpe.

Captain Ripley had gone with six men to the upper end of the brush, Belthorpe remained with six others where the first stand had been taken, while Deck, with the remaining cavalrymen present, made a detour, coming up on the opposite side of the growth, and at a distance of three hundred yards. He was on a slight hill, and could look directly down upon the spot the Confederates, with the extra horses, had occupied. As Captain Ripley had said, the enemy was nowhere in sight.

The men looked at Deck, and it must be confessed the major felt uncomfortable, for he had been certain that something would turn up when a better view of the ground back of the brush was obtained.

"We will advance,—but do so cautiously," said the major, and drew his pistol. Hardly two hundred feet had been covered when he made a discovery. The brush overhung a small, rocky brook, probably three feet deep in the centre. But where the water came from and where it went to was another question. Certainly, in making the detour, he and his men had crossed no such watercourse.

"It must come either from a powerful spring or from underground," he reasoned. "Forward!" he shouted. "That running stream must solve the mystery."

The brook was soon gained, and found to flow to the southwestward. A detail was sent up the stream, and soon came back reporting that there were several small springs there, but the larger portion of the water came from a flow out of the side of a small hill.

Major Truman now reported that the Riverlawns had surrounded the entire territory, and feeling certain he had the enemy secure, Deck continued his investigation. Several cavalrymen were sent down the centre of the brook, while he kept abreast of them beyond the brush.

Almost the end of the wood was gained, when the cavalrymen shouted out that they had reached a small waterfall, and could go no further. Pressing over the rocky ground, Deck gained the waterfall, to find at its bottom a well-hole in the almost solid rock, some fifty or sixty feet in diameter. At the bottom was a pool, partly covered with dead brush and decayed tree trunks, and the water ran off in a large opening to one side of the well-hole.

"Here are horses' hoof-prints, Major," said one of the men. "I shouldn't wonder if there is a winding path leading down to that 'air pool. But if the rebs went down there, what became of 'em?"

"There may be a cave there," answered Deck. "These underground watercourses often flow through caves around where I live, not far from the Mammoth Cave."

"To be sure, Major. Shall we go down?"

"Yes, but be on your guard."

The winding path was soon traced out, and not caring to risk the limbs of their animals, the cavalrymen went down on foot. In high curiosity, Deck followed, to find himself in a cold and gloomy place continually filled with fine spray from the waterfall. True enough, there was a cave some ten feet high by twenty feet wide beyond the falling waters, through the bottom of which flowed the brook as peacefully as it flowed above in the sunshine. Looking ahead, they saw the outlet of the cave, several hundred yards distant.

"They have outwitted us!" cried Deck, after a moment's examination. "They came down here and rode right through the cave. Evidently they were commanded by somebody who knows this locality well. They have a fine start of us, but if we don't let them know what we have discovered we may yet take them unawares."

As no one had his horse, all present had to climb back to the top of the well-hole. As soon as this was done, Major Lyon despatched several messengers to notify his officers of the truth of the situation, and then set off at full speed in the direction the retreating enemy had taken. He was soon joined by Captain Abbey with the first battalion, and the four companies were urged forward at the best speed the condition of the road allowed.

The Confederates had made good use of the time gained by the trick they had played, but they could not go on forever, and by nightfall their horses were so wearied they refused to get off a walk, and then their commander, a plucky young man from Montgomery, who was by profession a surveyor, and well acquainted with the territory, led his men and the extra horses directly into a bit of swamp ground, surrounded by a thicket of cypresses. There were but two paths into the swamp, and he felt tolerably safe from pursuit.

The trick that had been played upon him put Deck upon his mettle, and he determined, come what might, that the Riverlawns should capture those particular Confederates ere the journey to Huntsville was resumed. As an entrance to the swamp would have proved dangerous in the darkness, he encamped for the night on the outside, but sent out a strong picket guard to surround the district.

The Confederates endeavored to escape at four in the morning, knowing that daylight would prove fatal to such an undertaking. They came out of the swamp on both roads, and an alarm from the two spots rang out almost simultaneously. But Major Lyon had prepared for this, and at the first alarm the first battalion galloped to one road, the second battalion to the other, while Major Truman's command kept on the grand circle. Thus it was fight or go back and be hunted down, and the plucky Confederate captain chose to fight. Those on the second road ran or rode to the first, and the entire command charged the first company of Deck's battalion.



Maddened by what seemed a hopeless charge, the Confederates fought desperately, but they could do nothing against such superior numbers, and almost the first man to go down was the captain, shot through the heart. Deck was within a hundred feet of the fellow, and hardly had their leader fallen than two Confederates rushed upon the young major, each with a bayonet affixed to his gun.

"We'll run you through, Yank!" cried one, and made a furious onslaught with his bayonet. The other did the same, and although Deck was not touched, Ceph received a severe prick in the right flank. The next instant Deck fired, and one soldier went down, shot through the ankle.

The second soldier was directly in front of Ceph, and maddened by pain, the horse reared up on his hind legs, made a leap, and came down heavily on the Confederate. His right front foot caught the man in the face, and he went down with a broken nose, a disfigured forehead, and totally senseless. Then Ceph took another leap, and in a twinkling the whole scene was a thing of the past.

The second battalion had followed the flying enemy through the swamp, Major Belthorpe being satisfied his horses could go wherever the Confederates found a footing. As the enemy was now brought to a standstill, he was caught between two fires, and there was nothing left for him to do but to surrender. The captain being killed, the second in command, a tough-looking specimen of the "swamp angel," threw up his hands, in one of which fluttered a dirty white handkerchief.

"Do you surrender?" demanded Major Lyon, who saw the movement.

"Yes," was the surly response.

"Very well; advance one by one, and throw down your arms in a heap. Captain Abbey, have your company cover them well."

"Say, but you're a young rooster to be givin' orders around hyer," went on the "angel."

"You will keep silent and do as ordered," said Deck, briefly; and then no more was said.

One by one the Confederates advanced and deposited their arms as commanded. This being concluded, Captain Abbey was ordered to form the enemy into columns of fours and march them to the highway beyond the swamp. The second company took charge of the horses, of which there proved to be forty-seven all told. Four were found to be in a pitiable condition, and these the major ordered shot, to put them out of their misery.

"Well, Major, we have made a fine capture truly," remarked Captain Blenks, of the second company, after reporting that at least thirty of the horses were thoroughbreds. "Those animals alone are worth twelve or fifteen thousand dollars."

"Where are the three prisoners the Confederates were holding?"

"I haven't heard of them."

Without delay Deck summoned the leader of the captured crowd before him.

"I want to know something about the three prisoners you had with you," he said.

"They got away from us last night."

"You are telling me the truth?"

"Yes, Major. We had a traitor among us—a lad from Kentucky named Feswell. He untied 'em, and the hull four skipped in the darkness."

Unwilling to believe the fellow, who looked the rascal in his face, Deck waited until daylight, and then sent a detail to search the swamp from end to end. The men were under the command of Sandy Lyon, and in less than an hour they returned with the three prisoners, who had been tied to trees and gagged. One of the poor fellows, the captain of an Illinois company, was in distress from a bullet-wound in his arm, and all three were suffering from hunger and thirst.

Deck's indignation over this discovery was great, and he at once visited the batch of prisoners and read them a lecture on their brutality. "War is one thing, and uncalled-for heartlessness is another," he said. "Had these three men been left to die in the swamp, every one of you who knew of their plight would have been guilty of murder. I had intended to send you into the Union lines as you are; now each of you shall ride the distance with his arms strapped behind him, and your rations shall be hardtack and water,—nothing more."

At this there was an outburst of indignation. But Deck was obdurate, and the Confederates were forced to submit. Men and horses were placed in the charge of the third battalion, and by noontime Major Truman was on his way northward with them, the three Union men accompanying the command, and assisting in watching the prisoners.

By nightfall the first and second battalions had reached a small hamlet known as Conners, and they encamped on the outskirts, occupying a deserted farmhouse, and a half-dozen barns close by. Sentinels had been carefully posted, and Deck and the others got a good sleep after the night of wakefulness at the swamp.

It still wanted two hours of daylight when a message was brought to Deck that the Riverlawns were wanted at a spot two miles south of where they were encamped. It was reported that a portion of Minty's cavalry had encountered a body of Forrest's command, to which was attached a number of Tennessee guerillas. Help was wanted at once, or the Union troops would be annihilated.

The message perplexed Deck not a little, as he had no idea that Minty was in the vicinity. Yet, if help was needed, he was not the one to hold back, and in less than half an hour the Riverlawns were on the way, eating their ham and hardtack as they galloped forward. The messenger, an elderly man who wore the shoulder straps of a lieutenant of cavalry, stated that he knew every foot of ground in that part of Alabama, and was, therefore, allowed to take the lead without question.

For half a mile the course was along a well-defined trail leading out of the swamp lands to a rocky and sandy elevation covered with a stunted growth of trees. Then they came to a narrow defile where but two cavalrymen could ride abreast. Here a guard was thrown out; but no enemy developed, and the defile was left behind and they emerged upon an open plain ending in a slight depression. From here a woods could be seen, almost three-quarters of a mile distant.

Deck had been riding at the head of the column, but at the defile he had turned back, to make certain that every company came through in safety. Now he moved forward once more, just as Captain Abbey made the discovery that the trail was becoming dangerous through quicksands.

"We have gone wrong, Major, I believe," said the captain. "Where is that guide?"

"Why, I left him with you!" exclaimed Deck, in astonishment.

"I know you did; but he rode back to interview you and see if it wouldn't be advisable to branch off on two roads which he stated were just beyond here."

"I have seen nothing of him," said Deck, and instantly became suspicious. Several messengers were sent out, to the front and the rear, and it speedily became known that the guide had disappeared. Hardly had this word come in than the rear guard announced the presence of a body of Confederate cavalry on the hills on both sides of the defile just passed. Deck had but listened to the report when there came another from the front. The plain was impassable, being nothing more than an immense bed of quicksand. The Riverlawns were caught in a trap.



CHAPTER XX

MAJOR LYON WINS A BATTLE AND LOSES HIS HORSE

Major Dexter Lyon realized that he had been played false by the so-styled guide, and that his two battalions were in a dangerous situation. The eight companies of horsemen were in the centre of a small plain. In a semicircle in front was a low and treacherous quicksand, impossible of passage; in a semicircle to the rear was a rocky elevation, divided in half by the defile through which the cavalry had just passed. On the rocky elevation, on both sides of the defile, Confederate cavalry had been discovered, ready to pour in a hot fire on them the moment they attempted to turn back on their trail.

"Major, it looks as if our goose was cooked," remarked Tom Belthorpe, after the reports from the front and the rear had been considered. "They couldn't have laid a neater trap for us."

"And I allowed myself to walk into it blindfolded," answered Deck, somewhat bitterly.

"The rebels kept mighty shady when we came through the defile," put in Captain Abbey, who was also at hand. "I wonder why they didn't open on us then and there?"

"That is an easy question to answer, Captain," said Deck. "If they had opened up, our command could have retreated; now they have every one of us just about where they want us."

"But you won't surrender without a fight, will you?" demanded Kate Belthorpe's brother, anxiously.

"I have never yet done any surrendering, Tom. I want to know just how bad—What is it, Captain?"

"A flag of truce," answered Captain Life Knox, as he dashed up. "A private is carrying it, and there is a Confederate captain of cavalry with him."

"Indeed! They evidently want to rush things. Come with me, and we'll see what they want."

Side by side Deck and Life rode off, the way being to the lower edge of the rocky elevation. Here the Confederates had come to a halt in the midst of some underbrush.

"I am Captain Adairs, Mississippi Volunteer Cavalry," said the Confederate officer, with a salute, which the others promptly returned. "Who is in command of those Union troops?"

"I am in command," answered Deck.

"Major Dexter Lyon," put in Life, introducing him.

"Well, Major Lyon, I reckon you know we have you in a pretty tight box," went on the Confederate captain, with a smile.

"Is that so?" returned Deck, as though the thought was brand-new to him.

"We have. Ahead is nothing but swamp and quicksand, and back here my command hold the defile and the entire elevation."

"You must have your company pretty well spread out," remarked Deck.

"I have more than one company with me—fully enough men to hold the spot. So you see you are entirely cut off."

"Cut off from where?"

"The outside world, so to speak," was the Confederate's impatient answer.

"If we are, that's rather bad for us, Captain," and now Deck began to smile.

"It is. The question is, are you willing to surrender?" demanded Captain Adairs.

"To whom?"

"Why, to me, of course."

"Great Caesar, Captain, what for?"

"What for? Because you can't help yourself, that's what for!" and now the veneering of gentlemanliness vanished. "I call on you to surrender. If you won't, I'll open fire on you in less than five minutes."

"Make it ten minutes, Captain," and Deck kept on smiling.

"Ten minutes?" And the smile and the request perplexed the Confederate not a little, as it also perplexed Life Knox. The latter could not imagine what the major was driving at, for while he was a good soldier, and a first-class shot, diplomacy, military or otherwise, was beyond him.

"Exactly, ten minutes—or possibly quarter of an hour."

"I shall not wait longer than five minutes."

"Then I'll try to make five minutes do, although it will hardly be time enough."

"Time enough for what?"

"Time enough for me to arrange my plans for giving you battle," answered Deck, as calmly as ever.

"See here, do you take me for a—a fool?" cried the Confederate captain. "What are you driving at? I won't waste any more words with you."

"Won't you?" Deck had his field-glasses in his hand, and now he pointed them to the northward of the rocky elevation. "They are coming, Life!" he cried. "We are all right! Come on back!" And he waved his hand to his companion. "Good day, Captain, and I don't think I'll surrender—now!"

"Fooled!" burst from the Confederate's lips. "They are being reenforced! Why did I waste words here!" And without another look at Deck, he turned and galloped off with his orderly; and soon the two pairs were several hundred yards apart.

"It was well done—you scared him nicely!" burst out Life. "But what's the next move on the checkerboard, Deck?"

"The next move is to gain yonder grove of trees as quickly as we can. Carry the word to Major Belthorpe, and tell him to send Captain Ripley's sharpshooters and your own in advance. The first and second companies can come over here."

Away went Life Knox with the swiftness of the wind, realizing that success depended upon speed, for it would take but a few minutes for the Confederates to learn the truth concerning the ruse Deck had employed against them.

As soon as the tall Kentuckian had gone, Deck advanced toward the trees mentioned, rapidly but cautiously, for he had no desire to be picked off by some concealed Confederate marksman. His course lay over a series of rough rocks, but Ceph sprang from one to another with the lightness of a mountain goat. Soon the shelter of the first row of trees was gained.

Deck was not particularly a woodsman, but as a boy he had climbed many a maple-tree in New Hampshire, and later on, many a walnut in Kentucky. He had not forgotten the art, and standing up on Ceph's back he leaped into the branches of the tree above him, and climbed to the top in what Artie would have called "jig time."

The tree was tall, and standing on an elevation, afforded a good view of the surrounding territory for a mile or more on every side. Taking up his glasses again he inspected the situation with care.

Captain Adairs had told the truth about having more companies than one. There were three commands all told, each numbering probably seventy to eighty men. One was on this side of the defile, and two were on the opposite side. The men were scattered at convenient points for holding the defile against almost any force.

While Deck was surveying the situation, the Confederate captain reached his men, and orders were at once issued which took away half of the men at the rocky pass, and sent them in the direction of the main road beyond. This left but half a company in the neighborhood Deck was reconnoitring.

"If we can't whip half a company, no matter what advantage they have behind the rocks, we are not fit for the Union army," thought the major, and began to descend the tree.

He had just stepped on the limb below him, when he heard a crashing through the brush between the rocks. Wondering if it was friend or foe, he paused, and tried to look down. But the thick leaves and heavy branches cut off the view below completely.

"Git up thar, git up!" he heard, in a rough, heavy voice, as somebody leaped upon Ceph's back. Then came a clatter of horse's hoofs, and he heard his faithful steed move off—a prisoner of the enemy!

To Deck, Ceph was among his dearest possessions, and regardless of his danger, he scrambled down the tree with all possible speed, at the same time calling upon the unknown horse-thief to stop. But neither man nor beast halted, and by the time the major was down both were well out of sight.

Bitter as he felt over his loss, now was no time for Deck to grieve, and he scrambled over the rough ground until he came in sight of the first and second company, advancing as directed. At the same moment a scattering volley of shots from the other grove of trees told that the sharpshooters under Ripley and Life Knox had got to work.

"Lieutenant Fronklyn!" cried the major. "Go to Major Belthorpe at once, and tell him to bring all of the companies he has excepting Captain Ripley's men around here without delay. Captain Ripley is to work into the woods, but steer for the defile."

"Orders understood," replied Lieutenant Fronklyn, and galloped off.

Lieutenant Fronklyn was known to be a good rider, and he was soon out of sight. Without waiting for the balance of his command, minus the sharpshooters under Ripley, to come up, Deck urged the first and second companies forward.

The sudden attack, added to the report that another force of the enemy was on the highway, threw the Confederates in confusion, and although they stood their ground, it could be seen that they felt more like breaking away. Several volleys were exchanged, and half a dozen men on both sides were hit, but nobody seriously.

In the meantime Captain Ripley and Captain Knox had worked into the woods rapidly, and it was found impossible by Major Belthorpe to bring Life back, although an orderly was sent to deliver Deck's order to the Kentuckian. The balance of the companies followed the first half of the first battalion without delay.

Realizing that the Union cavalry was massing on the north side of the defile, the Confederate commander endeavored to bring up the balance of the two companies from the opposite side. But the descent from the rocks on one side and the ascent on the other took time, and just now every moment was precious.

Deck did not "let the grass grow under his feet." The first battalion went ahead on the double-quick, and soon a fierce hand-to-hand encounter was under way among the rocks. A dozen cavalrymen were wounded, and the Confederates fell back to a point midway between the defile and the highway.

Those Confederates who had gone down into the cut were now trying to gain the heights where the fighting was going on. But Deck was ready for them, and sent Major Belthorpe to the edge of the defile with two companies of the second battalion and Artie Lyon's company of the first. They fired directly down upon the heads of the Confederates, and in less than five minutes had the enemy retreating in the wildest confusion.

Deck had swung his three companies around, so that they had their backs to the defile. He could hear the sharpshooters pushing the enemy through the woods toward him. Presently the Confederates appeared, and the whole company which had occupied this ground originally was surrounded. Ten men were killed and an equal number wounded, and then the officer in command, a lieutenant, held up his sword, hilt first, to which was tied a white handkerchief; and the battle in that vicinity came to an end.

As soon as the company, or what was left of it, surrendered, Deck sent a battalion and a half after those who were fleeing. But the Confederates were filled with terror, thinking the reenforcements had surely come, with sharpshooters in advance, and they continued to retreat at the full speed of their horses. They were pursued for half a mile, and then the chase was given up.

An examination proved that the Riverlawns had lost eight men in killed and wounded, and the Confederates had lost nearly twice that number. Fifteen of the enemy had been captured, including an officer who said he had once practised as a surgeon. To his care were consigned all the wounded Confederates, who were, later on, carried to a farmhouse a quarter of a mile away. The wounded of the Riverlawns were turned over to Doctor Farnwright, the regular surgeon of the regiment, and the dead were buried with proper ceremonies at the spot where they had fallen.

"You did the trick, Major!" cried Tom Belthorpe, after it was all over. "It was one of the neatest moves I ever saw!"

"It saved our goose from being cooked," laughed Deck. He felt that he could afford to be light-hearted now.

"That's so,—I was too hasty in what I said," answered Kate Belthorpe's brother. "But what horse is that you are riding?"

"One taken from the enemy, Tom."

"And where is Ceph?"

"Gone."

"Dead?"

"No, somebody stole him while I was up in a tree looking over the situation."

"That's too bad. I know you set a store by that horse."

"I wouldn't lose him for a thousand dollars,—no, not for five times that amount," replied the young major, earnestly.

And Deck meant what he said. To him the loss of faithful Ceph meant more than any of his comrades in arms could understand. He wondered if he should ever set eyes on the noble animal again.



CHAPTER XXI

CROSSING THE TENNESSEE RIVER

Twenty-four hours after the affair described in the last chapter, the Riverlawns rode into Huntsville, bringing with them their last prisoners and their horses. They found that the larger portion of the Union cavalry had already arrived, and prisoners, horses, and negroes ready to flee to the North, were numerous.

"You have done remarkably well, Major Lyon," said the general in command, on receiving Deck's report. "I doubt if any of our forces have done better," and with this compliment the youthful commander was dismissed.