The stop in Huntsville did not last long, some of the cavalry leaving on the same night that the Riverlawns came in. By a pre-arranged plan the Union forces spread out into a large semicircle when on their way northward, and they came home with about three hundred prisoners, sixteen hundred horses and mules, and a thousand head of cattle, sheep, and pigs. On the return, the Riverlawns encountered but one body of the enemy, less than fifteen in number, and these fled at the first sight of the Unionists. About six hundred negroes joined the army on its northward movement, and thus escaped to the free States, much to their own satisfaction.

General Bragg, accompanied by Wheeler's cavalry force, had escaped to Chattanooga, and it was thought by some that General Rosecrans ought to pursue the enemy without delay. But there were great difficulties in the way. The enemy had torn up the railroads, the Army of the Cumberland, despite such raids as the one just mentioned, was short of rations and forage, and the commanding general felt that he must have support for his flanks ere braving the river and the mountain gaps, which he felt the Confederates would hold as long as possible.

To thoroughly understand the situation, the reader must remember that between the Union army and Chattanooga lay the lofty Cumberland Mountains, washed on either side by the waters of the Elk and the Tennessee rivers. To the northward the mountains were rugged and but poorly wooded; to the southward they were partly broken up by the Sequatchie River, flowing through the valley of that name, nearly fifty miles long, a valley much broken in spots.

Behind this great barrier Bragg felt, for a time at least, safe, and he utilized each hour in adding to his troops, men being forced into the Southern army wherever and whenever they could be found. The soldiers were poorly clothed and scantily fed, and some of the cavalry were mounted on mules. The firearms were of various sorts, English and Belgian weapons being quite common.

It was not until the 16th of August that the Army of the Cumberland began that momentous advance which will ever be remembered in the annals of history. In the meantime, railroads had been repaired, the artillery had been equipped with extra heavy harness for the horses, boats on the rivers had been put in good condition, and, equally important, the corn had ripened in sunny spots and been gathered in by the army quartermasters. The loss of their crop of corn caused many a heartburning among the farmers of this section of our country, but the confiscation was one of actual necessity; and, wherever such a course seemed just, payments were made for what was taken.

Twice had Rosecrans defeated the enemy by turning his flank. Now, with the mountains between himself and Bragg's front, there seemed nothing to do but to try the trick again. But the movement must be well planned and well executed, or the enemy would immediately become aware of what was going on, and make a move that would upset all the Union commander's calculations.

As has been said, the mountains to the northward were high and rugged; to the southward, they were broken up by a long valley, a river, and several small creeks. To turn the enemy's right would, therefore, require a long and arduous journey through a country almost barren. Rosecrans resolved to make his real movement to the left; that is, to the southward of Chattanooga. And the first act in the great drama was to hoodwink Bragg into believing that he was coming around by the mountain paths to the north.

Carrying with them ammunition enough for two great battles, and rations for twenty-five days, the forward movement began by throwing Crittenden's corps over the Cumberland Mountains and Walden's Ridge into the Tennessee Valley, directly opposite and to the north of Chattanooga. The corps moved from Hillsboro, Manchester, and McMinnville, and when in the Tennessee Valley were joined by Wilder's brigade of mounted infantry,—a portion of the fourteenth corps. To these bodies were added Minty's cavalry, which, riding on the left, through Sparta and Pikeville, operated along the river for twenty-eight miles above Blythe's Ferry.

The boys in blue were bound to deceive the enemy if the thing could be done, and at night immense camp-fires were lighted for miles along the river front, always in front and to the north of Chattanooga. Foot-soldiers and cavalry showed themselves first at one place and then another, and at night bugle-calls sounded out in spots where no cavalry had yet been or was likely to be. On the river bank, trees were cut down and sawed up, the ends being left to float down the stream, to give the enemy the impression that extensive bridge-building was on the way. One detachment climbed up a nearby ridge, and with its battery threw shells toward the city,—something that made the inhabitants imagine that the final contest was now at hand.

And while all this was going on, the main portion of the Union forces had crossed the Cumberland Mountains thirty odd miles below, and were gathering on the bank of the Tennessee River. A train had come in, bringing on it a pontoon-bridge which was to be thrown across the stream at Caperton. The train was stopped in the woods, and the boats and planking were hurried forward in secret.

While the sun was still rising on the 29th of August, fifty boats, with a capacity of twenty-five hundred men, were taken across the open fields of Caperton, launched, and rowed to the south shore of the Tennessee. The picket guard of the enemy was driven away, and soon the pontoon-bridge was in position. Immediately upon the completion of the work, Davis's division crossed and went into camp at the base of Raccoon Mountain. In three days his division, with Johnston's, had marched across the range, and forty-eight hours later these troops established themselves at Winston's Pass over Lookout Mountain, within forty-two miles of Bragg's stronghold. The same day Stanley's cavalry, under General Mitchell, crossed Lookout, and on the week following descended into Broomtown Valley.

The march of the army was now well under way, and Thomas's corps and the other troops came along at various points, covering the ground as rapidly as the nature of the territory permitted. It was felt that General Bragg must know by this time what was going on, and strict watch was kept all along the line to prevent a surprise.

The laying of the pontoon-bridge was to Major Deck Lyon and his brother, Captain Artie, a good deal of a novelty, and the Riverlawns assisted in carrying more than one boat down to the rushing waters of the Tennessee. Once the boats were strung from shore to shore, it was no easy matter to link them together, or to get the planking down even after they were linked, but all hands worked bravely, despite the occasional shots from the Confederate pickets fleeing from the neighborhood.

The Riverlawns crossed the bridge in safety, all but two men, a private of the sixth company, who quickly swam his horse ashore, and Sandy Lyon. Sandy had a spirited horse, and was advised to lead him over; but the lieutenant insisted on riding, and when the middle of the bridge was reached, his horse shied, and Sandy slid overboard like a flash. He went down, to come up at a point fifty feet down the turbulent stream.

"Help! help!" he yelled, as soon as he could eject the water from his mouth. "Some of you fellows haul me out!"

"Can't you swim?" asked several, unwilling to endure a wetting if it was not necessary.

"I can't swim much—ain't swum in five years," came in a gasp, "and this clothing weighs a ton!"

Artie Lyon had seen Sandy go overboard, and now he drew his uncle's attention to the scene. Titus was very much excited on the instant. "Save Sandy—save my boy!" he cried, and he tried to leap overboard, but Artie hauled him back.

"You can't swim, can you?" asked the captain.

"No—but—I don't want Sandy to drown!" panted Titus Lyon. "I've lost one son already in this war!"

"There is a boat—I'll get that and go after Sandy," answered Artie. "You stay here;" and he motioned for two cavalrymen standing near to hold Titus and thus prevent him from throwing himself into the rushing element.

The boat was a flat-bottomed affair, owned by an old fisherman of Caperton. The oars were handy, and Artie was soon on a seat in the craft. As he pushed off Life Knox leaped in beside him.

"Reckon two rowers are better nor one," said the tall Kentuckian, and without a word Artie tossed him an oar. Soon the boat was making good headway down the stream in the direction in which Sandy's head could be seen bobbing up and down.

"Help me!" he cried again. "I'm played out!"

"Keep up a little longer,—we are coming," replied Artie, encouragingly.

"I can't keep up—something is fast to my foo—" And the words ended in a gurgle, as Sandy suddenly disappeared.

"Why, what can this mean?" asked the young captain. "Has he caught his spurs into each other?"

"More than likely he got tangled up in one of those boat chains," remarked Life Knox. "I noticed the chains hanging around when the bridge was put down."

"Then they'll take him to the bottom, sure," said Artie, and grew more anxious than ever for his cousin's safety.

The disappearance of Sandy had been noticed from the bridge and from both shores, and now several small boats put out. Titus Lyon broke away from those who held him and went overboard with a loud splash, and two minutes later a boat picked him up, more dead than alive.

When Artie and Life reached the spot where Sandy had disappeared, nothing was to be seen of the young lieutenant, and a blank look seized upon the faces of the would-be rescuers. Suddenly, however, the tall Kentuckian gave a leap to the stern.

"There he is!" he shouted.

"Where?"

"Under water several feet. He is going down!"

As Life spoke he threw off his coat and hat, his boots followed,—in a moment he slipped overboard.

The boat had now swung around with the current, and Artie had his hands full bringing her up to the proper position and holding her there. Artie's heart was in his throat. Poor Orly Lyon had been shot down in battle, and now, if Sandy was also lost, what would his Uncle Titus and his kind-hearted Aunt Susan do?

"Oh, I do hope Life brings him up!" he thought, when the head of the Kentuckian appeared, dripping with water. Life supported Sandy in his arms, and Artie brought the flatboat up close. In a moment Sandy was laid on the seat and the captain of the seventh company clambered in.

The eyes of the lieutenant were closed, and Artie could not tell whether he was dead or otherwise. "Is it—it all right?" he faltered.

"I hope so, Artie. He had his ankle caught in a chain just as I supposed. It was hard work releasing him, I can tell you. Let us get to shore just as fast as we can."

Artie needed no urging to do this, and soon the flatboat grounded on the south bank of the river, and willing hands carried Sandy to a grassy bank where he was rolled and worked over, until the water came out of him, and he gave a gasp.

"He's all right now," said Life, drawing a long breath.

"Yes, and I'm mighty glad of it," murmured Artie.

Surgeon Farnwright then took charge of the case, but Sandy scarcely needed him. By morning the lieutenant was as hearty as ever, although a bit "shaky" as he expressed it.

"I won't forget you," he said, squeezing Life Knox's hand. "You're a brick!"

Titus Lyon was even more affected. "I've lost Orly," he said, in a husky voice, "I couldn't afford to lose Sandy, nohow. We ain't been very much of friends in the past, Captain Knox, but I hope we will be in the future—leas'wise, I'll be your friend, through thick and thin."

And the adjutant of the Riverlawns kept his word.



CHAPTER XXII

THE SIGNALS IN THE DARK

The Tennessee River passed, the Riverlawns, with the other cavalry, preceded the Twentieth Army Corps to Winston's Gap, not far from Valley Head, at the base of Lookout Mountain, and some thirty-five miles south of Chattanooga. At the same time the other troops came over Sand and Raccoon mountains, and through various gaps, until, on the 6th of September, the army lay along the base of Lookout, from Valley Head, just mentioned, northward to Wauhatchee, several miles above Chattanooga.

The passage of Sand Mountain was a trying one, never to be forgotten by about half of Captain Abbey's company, who were riding in advance of the regular body of cavalry. The Engineering Corps had had the roads repaired, but the ascent was steep, and in certain spots the trail was but wide enough for one horseman to pass at a time. The provisions were brought along on pack mules, and the artillery had to take a roundabout route twelve miles longer.

Captain Abbey was at the head of his men, and several hundred feet in advance of any other body of cavalry, when, without warning, thirty-two of the Riverlawns were caught on a mountain trail not over six feet broad, having on one side a wall or cliff nearly a hundred feet high, and on the other a sheer descent of twice that number of feet into a hollow filled with jagged rocks.

The accident which brought this condition of affairs about was in reality as simple as it was serious. The trail wound around the mountain in the shape of a horseshoe, and the cavalrymen were journeying slowly along at the bottom of the curve, when some rocks and sand far above them began to slide down. The rumble was heard in time to allow the riders to escape the landslide, but immediately the trail before and behind them was choked up with boulders and sand to the height, or depth, of fifteen feet or more.

It cannot be denied that the members of the first company who were thus caught were greatly alarmed. Second Lieutenant Burton was with Captain Abbey, and he yelled out that the mountain was coming down. For several minutes a score of cries and yells filled the air, but gradually these died away, and when the landslide stopped, and the dust had rolled away, the cavalrymen looked about them to see what damage had been done.

"Nobody hurt," announced Captain Abbey. "That was the most fortunate landslide I ever saw."

"We'll have to go back," said Lieutenant Burton, who had surveyed the disaster ahead. "We can't climb over that mass of rocks,—it wouldn't be safe."

"I'd like to know how we are going back," put in one of the sergeants. "We are blocked in the rear as well as in front. That stuff came from the top of yonder ridge, and half of it slid down on this side of the curve and half on the other. We are hemmed in."

This announcement made all feel very uneasy, and more than one cavalryman turned slightly pale. If they couldn't advance or retreat what were they to do?

"Let us make a careful investigation of our condition first," said Captain Abbey, who was as calm as anybody in the detachment. "If we can do nothing better, we can clear that rubbish off the trail."

At this Lieutenant Burton shook his head.

"That would be a dangerous undertaking, Captain. When rocks and sand once begin to slide there is no telling when they will stop."

"But this stuff can only slide into the valley below, Burton."

"This stuff can, that's true; but it may bring down ten times as much on our heads."

At this Captain Abbey shrugged his shoulders. "Well, we'll investigate first and lay plans afterward. We can't stay here forever. In a couple of hours more it will be dark."

A cry now arose from other portions of the trail, front and back, asking if anybody had been hurt. The answer was reassuring: and then the captain began looking over the ground, moving cautiously around on foot, followed by the lieutenant and the sergeant. As the trail was so narrow, the other cavalrymen remained where they were, continually on the watch to see if more of the ridge above was liable to break away.

There was no doubt but that the platoon was in a "tight fix," to use Lieutenant Burton's way of expressing it. The boulders in the pathway were four and five feet in diameter, and several of them were wedged together, all covered with sand and a sort of shell-rock. The blockade in the front was as bad as that in the rear; indeed, there seemed to be no choice between the two.

"Well, we're treed," remarked the lieutenant.

"I should say we were shelved," answered the captain, with a faint smile.

"We're in a bad box," added the sergeant. "What's to do?"

"I think we might tackle that blockade in the rear, and thus open the way to join the rest of the regiment. Then, if Colonel Lyon says so, we'll clear the blockade ahead." The captain spoke thus of Colonel Lyon, for that officer once more occupied his position with the Riverlawns, having just about recovered, but no more.

With extreme caution Captain Abbey advanced to the landslide in the rear, and managed, with his lieutenant's aid, to reach the ground just above the blockade. It was shaky and uncertain, and he sank into the sand up to his ankles.

"If we had a lever of some sort we might pry those rocks over the edge of the cliff," he observed. "I don't believe much more would come down outside of sand and small stones, and that we could shovel away. Let us try to find a pole, or—Hullo, Major!" he added, suddenly, "how did you get here?"

"Climbed up from the other side of the fallen mass," answered Major Deck Lyon, for the new arrival was he. "Here's a pretty how-do-you-do, eh?"

"That's right, Major. I was just saying we might pry these rocks off with a heavy pole, if we had the pole."

"I thought as much, Captain, and have already sent back for the heaviest wagon pole the train possesses," responded Deck. "It will be here as soon as the boys can bring it up. The problem will be, can we get enough strength on one end of the lever to move the weight at the other end?"

"The boys are strong, if only they can get a hold."

"But they may not be able to get a hold,—in which case we'll have to try some other plan. To be sure, the men might climb back in this direction, but that won't be saving the horses, or opening the trail again," concluded Deck.

The problem on foot interested him, and as soon as the heavy wagon pole put into appearance he had it slid up on the rocks, and one end was inserted between the largest of the boulders, and that next to it. The major, captain, and sergeant tugged with might and main, but the upper stone did not budge, and it looked as if ten men could not do the work.

"I reckon that rock is there to stay," remarked Captain Abbey, as he wiped the perspiration from his face. "This is nigger's work; and I'm done."

Deck studied the problem for a moment. "Well, 'as the mountain wouldn't come to Mahomet, Mahomet went to the mountain,'" he quoted. "As this rock refuses to budge, I don't know but that it is solid enough to remain where it is, and we can fix up a trail right over it."

"By Jove! that's so!" cried Captain Abbey. "It's fairly flat on top. All we need is a slope from the front and the back."

A number of men were now called forward, and under Deck's directions the upper surface of the landslide was cleared away. Everything in the shape of a flat stone was placed before and behind the big rock, and the sand and fine shell-rock was shovelled into the cracks between. Inside of an hour, a new footway was formed at the spot, rising five feet in the centre and sloping off fifteen feet in either direction. It was made easy for the horses, and the animals went over it without hesitation.

In the meantime the other obstruction had been attacked by another body of workers. Here the heavy pole came into good play, and rock after rock was sent tumbling into the valley below. The sand was shovelled after it, and by the time the rear obstruction was taken care of, the other was likewise a thing of the past.

"You had better join the Engineering Corps, Dexter," remarked Colonel Lyon, as he came up, having been to the rear in consultation with the commander of the cavalry forces.

"It was a work of necessity, father," answered the major. "The platoon of the first company was stuck, and it would never have done to have abandoned those horses. We haven't a single animal to spare, even though we did round up those others in Alabama."

"I know we haven't any to spare, Dexter. By the way, how do you like that black charger you have chosen?"

"Oh, he seems to be all right. But he isn't Ceph,—not by a good deal."

"No, you won't find one horse in a thousand like Ceph, my son. I'm afraid the loss of that noble animal will handicap you in making those famous leaps on the heads of Confederate officers, such as you have made in the past."

"No, this horse would never do such work—I wouldn't dare to try him," answered the major. "He is of ordinary intelligence, and of good speed and endurance; and that is all I can say of him."

"I have just been in consultation with the general commanding," went on Colonel Lyon, after a pause. "He wishes a special piece of work done, and says he would like Major Dexter Lyon to do it."

"I am ready, sir. What is the work?"

"As you know, we are to move up to Winston's Gap. The general imagines a detachment of Wheeler's cavalry is located somewhere at this side of the Gap, or near Valley Head, strongly intrenched, to take us unaware. You are to learn the truth of the situation."

"I will do my best."

"It was agreed between us that you should take a detachment of six men with you, and one of the number was to be Captain Knox."

"That just suits me."

"The other men are to be sharpshooters from Captain's Knox's company."

"That will also be satisfactory."

"Before you go you are to come to the general for instructions. He is just below here, at the Knob, as it is called. You must remember passing the spot."

"Yes, I remember," answered Deck.

It was supper time, but the major did not wait for the meal. Calling a negro orderly aside, he procured a bite and a strong cup of coffee, and having swallowed both, set off on a gallop.

The conference with General Mitchell occupied the best part of quarter of an hour. Deck was instructed to take the road leading to the headwaters of Town Creek, to the northwest of Valley Head. He was to pass over the creek or around it, and note with care all of the approaches to Lookout Mountain in that vicinity. The mission might prove dangerous, and the sharpshooters were to do their best to avoid a capture by the enemy, should the Confederates develop in force and surprise them.

With these instructions well understood, Deck returned to the Riverlawns and summoned Life. The selection of the five sharpshooters was left to the tall Kentuckian, and it is needless to state that the captain picked out the most able fellows his company afforded. The horses had already been watered and groomed, and the men had had supper; so after Deck's own steed was cared for, they set off, the major and the captain side by side, and the sharpshooters by column of twos in the rear.

At about eight o'clock the mountain was passed, and the seven cavalrymen found themselves in a small valley, with rocks upon one side, and a woods backed up by a small creek on the other. The trail lay along the bank of the creek, and was easy to follow, even in the gathering darkness.

"How long do you propose to travel—all night?" asked Life, presently.

"That will depend upon circumstances," answered Deck. "We may as well push along while the trail is as clear as it is here."

"But we can't locate any enemy in the dark."

"I doubt very much if any Confederates are so close to us. I was thinking, however, we might spot a camp-fire before midnight."

"If they have any camp-fires."

"They won't do without them in this fall weather unless ordered especially to that effect, Life. An Alabama mountaineer loves his camp-fire almost as well as he loves his moonshine whiskey."

"But the mountaineers are not exactly what we are after," insisted the Kentuckian, who wanted to "corner" his companion, if he could, just for the fun of it.

"A mountaineer can tell a lot of things, if you can make him talk," was the major's significant response. "If Wheeler's cavalry is in this vicinity you can lay odds on it that all the inhabitants of this wild territory know it."

"Well, I reckon you are about right,—as you always are, Deck. If we—Hullo, what's the meaning of that?"

Life drew rein suddenly, and pointed toward the rocky elevation to one side of the trail. Deck looked in the direction, but could make out nothing unusual.

"What are you pointing at, Life?"

"It's gone now. It was—There it is again!"

Deck now saw that which had attracted his companion's attention. A light had appeared, evidently a pine torch. It was swung around in a circle several times, then moved up and down,—and then it vanished as before.

"It's a signal, Life!"

"They moved it that way before," answered the captain of the seventh company. "What can it mean?"

"It means that one detachment of the Confederates is signalling to another," ejaculated Deck. "Come ahead; I am going to learn the particulars of this movement if I can."



CHAPTER XXIII

AN IMPORTANT CAPTURE ON THE MOUNTAINS

Major Deck Lyon felt certain that they had not only made a discovery of importance, but that this discovery, if followed up, would lead to something of still more value to know.

He felt, however, that not a moment was to be lost. Already the shades of night had fallen across Sand Mountain and Lookout Mountain, casting deep patches of gloom among the several valleys. In the darkness, the trail would become dangerous, if it was not already so.

The five sharpshooters were halted, and the situation was explained to them. Then two were sent on the back trail, to cover their rear, two were sent up the creek, one on either side, and the remaining man accompanied Deck and Life to the base of the rocky hill from which the signal had been flashed.

"You will take care of our horses, Clefton," said the major, to the last sharpshooter. "If an enemy appears, keep out of the way if you can. I want to learn just what is going on before an alarm is given."

In a minute more, the major and the captain were crawling over the rocks and through the brush, directly for the place whence the signal-light had appeared. No answering signal had been discovered, and Deck concluded that the second signal station was out of the range of the valley bottom.

The distance from the trail to the spot from which the light had flashed was calculated by Life Knox to be not over five hundred yards, that is, about a quarter of a mile, and the tall Kentuckian was not the man to make a mistake in calculating such a distance. But the way was rugged, and often a gully or a wall of rock brought the pair to a halt. Yet the gullies were not so wide but that each could be covered by a stiff jump, and they helped one another up the steep places. The Kentuckian advanced with hardly any noise, and Deck followed his example, although not so familiar with woodcraft.

Three-quarters of the distance to the top of the rocky hill had been covered when each clutched the other by the arm. Both had made a discovery, whether of importance or not, they could not just then tell. They had found three horses, tethered in a spot through which ran a trail running east and west, diagonally to the course they were pursuing.

"Hist, somebody is coming," whispered Deck, as Life started to speak; and both shrunk back in the shadow of a clump of bushes.

They could hear the low murmur of three voices, and presently they distinguished three Confederates, attired in the uniform of the signal corps. Each man carried a pair of field-glasses and some sort of an apparatus strapped to his back.

"They are the fellows we are after, sure enough," whispered Life. "Three to two. What shall we do?"

"Wait; and see to your pistol," answered the major, in an equally low voice.

"Captain, what did you make that last signal out to mean?" asked one of the Confederates.

"It meant that the Yankees have crossed Sand Mountain and are assembling along Lookout."

"But what of the cavalry?"

"They are on the extreme right of their troops."

"Then they must be in this neighborhood. It's a good thing for General Wheeler that we have learned this. I suppose they'll come close to Alpine."

"More than likely they'll strike right through to Summerville."

"Then they mean to turn our left if they can," put in the third signalman, who had not spoken heretofore. "What do you suppose General Bragg will do?"

"He'll come out of Chattanooga and fight 'em, that's what he'll do, Simpler. To my notion it was foolish not to offer them a fight right on the bank of the Tennessee."

Speaking in this strain, the three signalmen turned in at the spot where they had left their horses, and began to untie the animals. While they were doing this, Life leaned over to Deck.

"Well?" he asked in a whisper.

"Do you think we can manage them, Life?"

"Why not? We have the drop of them, if we keep behind the trees."

"I should like to make them prisoners."

"Let us try it; I don't think we'll come off second best," answered the matter-of-fact captain of the seventh company.

Deck raised his pistol and Life did the same. "I'll cover the fellow beside the white horse," he explained.

"Correct; I'll cover both of the others," was Life's reply, as he produced another weapon.

The next moment Deck called upon the three signalmen to surrender. His command started the three very much, and they stopped their talk and gazed around them in bewilderment.

"What's that?" questioned the captain, nervously.

"I call on you to surrender. Down with your arms or you are dead men."

"Who are you?"

"A major in the Union army, in command of a detachment of sharpshooters," answered Deck, telling the exact truth.

"Stand ready to fire, boys," he continued, as if addressing a full company behind him.

"We surrender," said the leader of the signalmen, promptly.

"Throw down your arms."

One after another the weapons of the Confederates were cast away.

"Keep them well covered, boys," said Deck, and going forward he gathered the pistols up, also the captain's sword.

"Now march down the hillside in that direction," went on the major; "and no treachery, or you'll be dead men inside of ten seconds." He raised his voice. "Forward, boys! Captain Knox, take command!"

"All right, Major," answered Knox, gruffly. He turned around. "Forward, boys, and keep them covered," and then as the Confederates moved off, he also moved, making as much noise as a dozen men. The ruse was completely successful, even more so than it had been at the time the cannon on the raft was captured.

At the foot of the hill Clefton, the sharpshooter, was called up, and sent to notify the others. Soon the detachment of seven was assembled, and then all surrounded the prisoners.

"You don't mean to say this is all the men you have?" demanded the leader of the signalmen.

"I haven't any others very near," said Deck.

"Well, that's the time I was fooled for fair. I thought you had a full company stuck up there among the trees."

"Are you prepared to go along peaceably?" asked Deck, to change the subject.

"Being unarmed, how can we help ourselves?"

"I see you have a large stock of common sense, even if you were captured," said Deck, with a laugh. "All right, you shall ride, but your animals must be chained to our own, or they might run away with you in the darkness."

"Which means that we might try to run away on them."

"I didn't put it quite so pointedly, Captain."

"But you meant it, nevertheless. Well, it's all right,—'fortune of war,' so to speak, and I shan't complain. Who are you?"

"Major Deck Lyon, of the Riverlawn Cavalry of Kentucky."

"And I am Captain Vallingham, of the South Carolina volunteers,—now on detached duty."

"You seem to have been running a sort of a signal station up there, Captain Vallingham."

"Oh, we have been amusing ourselves."

"Do you think the persons who were signalled to were likewise amused?"

"How do you know we were signalling to anybody?"

"I take it for granted you didn't wave those pine knots to the stars. You are too intelligent a man to believe in negro voodooism."

"Perhaps I am not as intelligent as you imagine, Major. Remember, I surrendered when I should have fought. We were three to two, and it would have been a pretty fair contest."

"But we had the drop on you."

"True, but it was pretty dark."

"Yes, and it is too dark now to suit me, Captain. Life, let us light up a bit."

"Here is an opening in the brush, Major," answered the Kentuckian, who imagined he understood what the young commander had in mind.

Evidently the leader of the signalmen also understood, or thought he did, for as the group turned into the clearing Life had mentioned, he was observed by the watchful major to throw a small note-book over the bushes.

"Halt!" cried Deck. "Brady, let me have that lantern you brought along."

The sharpshooter addressed complied, the lantern was lit, and the major began a hunt. The note-book lay wide open on some short brush, and was easily discovered, along with two letters beside it. With the articles in his hand, Deck returned to the Confederate signalmen.

"Captain Vallingham, I am sorry to see you throw away your property in this fashion," he remarked.

"You're altogether too sharp!" growled the signalman, and now his pleasant manner deserted him.

"In order to prevent you from throwing away anything more of value, I'll have you searched. Clefton, go through the man from hat to boots, and don't let anything escape you."

"Are you going to rob me?"

"Yes,—of information, if any more is to be had."

"I haven't anything beside that note-book and the two letters. The letters are from my mother,—private correspondence."

"You give me your word of honor as a gentleman to that?"

"I do."

"Then there you are, Captain. I have no desire to pry into your personal affairs. I am working solely in the interests of the United States of America."

A flush came over the Confederate's face, and he crammed the letters into a pocket Clefton had just turned inside out. "Much obliged; I am glad to learn a Yankee can still be a gentleman in some respects."

"In all respects, Captain Vallingham. Clefton, anything else of value to our general?"

"Haven't pulled off his boots yet, Major."

"Do you think I carry the secrets of the Confederate army in my foot-wear?" demanded the captain.

"I am not thinking; I am trying to find out," answered Deck, calmly.

"I'm not used to going barefooted."

"We won't keep you barefooted. Now, Clefton—Ah, what's that?"

For from the top of Captain Vallingham's stocking an edge of paper had protruded. The paper was pinned fast, but easily released, and Deck unfolded it, and held it so that the light of the lantern might fall upon it.

"A map of this vicinity, and of the approaches to Chattanooga," he said. "Very good. Life, here is where that other signal corps was stationed, in the direction of Alpine. Is that all, Clefton?"

"Seems to be, Major Lyon."

"Now examine the other prisoners."

The order was carried out with despatch and care, and one other map was brought to light, along with an order from a member of General Wheeler's staff, directing the movements of the signalmen. The order was dated at Lafayette, a town about midway between where the detachment was now stationed and Chattanooga.

Deck gave the note-book a scanty inspection and found it contained the signal code for that campaign, and also a diary of the work performed. There was also a note speaking of the forces under General Wharton, commanding one division of Wheeler's cavalry. This showed that the Confederate cavalry were watching for General Mitchell's troops to the north of Lafayette.

Shoving the note-book and maps into his pocket, Deck ordered his men on the return, the prisoners to ride behind himself and Life, with the five sharpshooters in the rear. He felt that he had gained sufficient information to warrant his return. To use an old phrase, "the cat was out of the bag," and it would not be long before General Bragg would bring out his troops from Chattanooga and vicinity to do the Army of the Cumberland battle.



CHAPTER XXIV

OPERATIONS IN McLEMORE'S COVE

Captain Vallingham was a graduate of West Point who had gone into the volunteer service of the South immediately after Fort Sumter was fired upon. He had attached himself to the cavalry at first, but had soon been transferred, by his own wish, to the signal corps.

The corps as operated in the army of Tennessee under General Braxton Bragg was a poor one, yet it did some excellent work in those districts where travelling from one hilltop to another was slow work, but where the topography was just right for sending messages from point to point by means of various signalling apparatuses.

The captain was a brave fellow, and four years at our national military academy had "taught him a thing or two," as old army officers are wont to express it. He was a prisoner of the enemy, but he did not intend to remain so very long, if he could help it. To think that he had been captured by a Union officer much younger than himself, supported by only one or two followers, filled him with chagrin, and he resolved to square matters with Deck at the first opportunity.

Like the young major of the first battalion, the Confederate captain owned a horse that he had trained from ponyhood; but, unlike Deck, he still possessed the steed and was now riding him. In addition to this, the Confederate officer knew every foot of the ground the whole party were now traversing. He resolved to make use of his knowledge and of the abilities of his horse at the first opportunity.

The chance was not long in coming. At one point in the trail along the creek, the rocks came to within ten feet of the water, so that the safe part of the road was only wide enough for one rider to pass along at a time. Consequently, the party had to move ahead in single file, Captain Knox leading, Deck following, and Captain Vallingham coming next, with the remaining Confederates behind him, the sharpshooters bringing up in the rear.

The rocks were from six to ten feet in height, and were covered in spots with sparse growths of brush. Back of them, at a distance of a hundred feet or more, was a hill, leading up into a growth of cedars.

As the narrowest part of the trail was gained, Captain Vallingham dropped behind, until fifteen or twenty feet separated him and Deck. Then, of a sudden, he drew his horse around and spoke to the animal. The intelligent equine understood, and with one marvellous leap, cleared the edge of the rocks and stood on the flat surface above. Without a halt, Captain Vallingham urged him forward, and away he went at a breakneck speed for the cedars.

The two Confederates riding back of their leaders saw the movement the instant it was made, but they said nothing. Deck heard the noise as the horse landed on the rocks and turned as quickly as he could. From where he sat nothing could be seen but the top of the escaping man's head, and he fired at this, putting a hole through Captain Vallingham's hat and giving the alarm.



"Escaping, is he!" cried Life, and just then the rifle of the first of the sharpshooters rang out, and another ballet increased the ventilation in the daring man's head-covering. The second and the third sharpshooters tried to urge their horses up the rocks, but this could not be done, and they made the leaps alone, directly from their saddles.

"Stay back and watch these two!" cried Deck, to Life and the two remaining sharpshooters, and leaped up the rocks. As he landed, he heard a splash in the water, and glancing back saw that one of the other prisoners had tried to escape by swimming the creek. The movement was a foolish one, for the moment he reappeared, in midstream, both of the sharpshooters still on the trail fired at him, killing him instantly.

By the time Deck had reached the top of the rocks, Vallingham had covered half of the distance to the cedars. He was urging his horse along among the tallest brush the plain of rocks afforded, and it was difficult to get another shot at him. Deck fired once, and so did one of the sharpshooters behind him, but the bullets whistled harmlessly among the cedars beyond.

"He's got the bulge on us, Major, bein' mounted!" panted Clefton, who now caught up to Deck. "How he got his hoss to take that jump is a mystery to me."

"If I had had Ceph I could have jumped after him," answered Deck, and a pang of regret shot through his heart, as he realized what a great help noble Ceph had been to him. "Clefton, you run to the right and I will run to the left. Sanford, you keep on straight ahead. Unless he knows those woods thoroughly, he'll be bothered to find a path, and will have to turn in one direction or another."

By the time Major Lyon had ceased speaking, Vallingham had gained the first of the cedars. He struck the woods at a spot where the ground was very uneven, and turned to the left,—the direction Deck had assigned to himself.

Ordinarily it is impossible for a man on foot to catch up with a running horse, although the man may be able to overtake the horse in the course of two or three days' running, if the man is a trained runner. But Captain Vallingham had to move along with a certain amount of caution, for if his steed went down into a hole and broke a leg, the game would be up. Being closer to the ground, Deck could see fairly well, and he came along without slacking his speed.

The major was within a hundred feet of the Confederate, and was on the point of calling upon him to halt, when Vallingham slipped behind the first growth of cedars and out of sight.

"This way, boys!" called Deck, and made for the spot, with Clefton and Sanford not over two hundred feet away. There was a small brook to cross, and he came into the woods over some uncovered roots of trees and amid a mass of half-rotted leaves and pine needles and cones.

"Captain Vallingham, you might as well give up!" he called out. "You cannot escape."

"Follow me at your peril!" came back in a determined voice. "I am not unarmed, as you suppose."

This reply startled Deck, but in a moment he made up his mind that the Confederate was bluffing, and he did not slacken his speed. Clefton called to him, and he ordered both sharpshooters to come into the woods with him.

There was a road through the cedars, starting from a point to the north of where Vallingham had entered. Toward this road the Confederate now pressed, with Deck at his heels, trying to get a shot, but balked by the trees and the darkness. More than once, the major went down, and he wondered how the escaping prisoner could keep in the saddle.

As a matter of fact, Vallingham had dismounted, and was leading his steed for the road. He was armed, as he had intimated, but his weapon was nothing more formidable than a stout stick just picked up. He reached the road at last, and leaped into the saddle once more.

Deck came into the opening before Vallingham had advanced more than ten yards. In the gloom he saw the forms of horse and rider, and fired twice in quick succession, at the same time calling upon Clefton and Sanford that the prisoner was again in sight.

The second leaden messenger from the major's weapon struck the Confederate's horse in the flank, and he leaped to one side from the pain, unseating Vallingham, and sending the captain to the ground. The shock was a heavy one, and ere the captain could recover, Deck was upon him.

"Do you surrender, or shall I fire on you?" demanded the young Union officer.

"I—I surrender," groaned Vallingham. "Oh! I am afraid I have broken a rib."

"If you have, I am sorry for you, but you brought it on yourself," answered Deck, coolly. "Sit still until the others come up."

Clefton and Sanford were in sight, and a call brought them to Deck's side. By this time Captain Vallingham had grown very pale; and suddenly he fainted. Water was brought, and he revived, but he said his right side hurt him a good deal where it had struck against a sharp stone.

The horse that had been wounded walked lamely, but was still in fair condition, and the Confederate, being unable to walk, was allowed to ride, Sanford leading the steed. The whole party turned back to the trail, where they found Life and his men and the third prisoner awaiting them.

"And so Colver is gone," said Captain Vallingham, when told of the shooting of the man who had leaped into the creek. "Poor fellow; I am afraid I am responsible for his rashness."

"It was a fool move all round, Cap'n," growled the third prisoner, and the captain did not gainsay it.

Once more the march for the Union encampment was resumed, and this time a close watch was kept on the prisoners, something which was now scarcely necessary, as Captain Vallingham was in no condition to attempt another escape, and the other prisoner being far too scared to dream of such a thing.

It was dawn of the following day when Major Lyon finally reached headquarters, having placed the prisoners in Life's charge, to be turned over to the proper authorities in the camp.

He found the general commander just finishing his scant toilet, after taking a much-needed sleep of a few hours.

"Be brief, Major Lyon, for I have little time to spare," he said, as he motioned Deck to a chair.

Deck had prepared his report in his mind before announcing himself, and was as terse as any one could wish. The general listened attentively, and studied the maps and the note-book with interest.

"This is another feather in your cap, Major Lyon," he said, at the conclusion of the interview. "I shall make mention of it."

"The men under me are as much entitled to credit as myself," answered the young major, wishing to be entirely fair. Yet it must be confessed that his bosom swelled with pride at his commander's words.

"Possibly they are;—they shall be remembered also," was the rejoinder, and then the major was dismissed, to make place for several others who had come in to report.

"You ought to be an out-and-out scout, Deck!" cried Artie, when the two got together later in the day. "Life has been telling me about what was done. I only wish I had been along." And later on Sandy Lyon said the same thing.

Information had been obtained, some days back, that the Union commander, Burnside, had occupied Knoxville, and that his opponent, S. B. Buckner, had retreated to Loudon. It was now stated that fifteen thousand Confederate forces were on their way to join Bragg. The question was, would the two forces concentrate in Chattanooga, or at some place outside, to do battle with the army of the North?

As has been said, the Army of the Cumberland lay along the western base of the mountains. On the 7th of September, Negley's division commenced the ascent of the steep sides, and at four o'clock in the afternoon gained the summit. A reconnaissance was made by Colonel Wood, and it was found that the enemy had heavy guns in the vicinity, covering the eastern side of the mountain. The next day General Negley seized Cooper's and Stevens' Gaps, finding the latter heavily barricaded.

Other troops moved in various directions. The Riverlawns, with the cavalry on the extreme right, were ordered to sweep through Broomtown Valley and seize the railroad in the vicinity of Dalton, thus cutting off the enemy's line of communication in this district.

The Riverlawns moved forward full of enthusiasm, and satisfied that at last some sort of a battle was at hand. But, alas! those hopes were doomed to disappointment. Bragg was leaving Chattanooga as fast as he could, and by the 9th of the month, everybody in the Army of the Cumberland knew it. Rosecrans had gained "The Gateway to Georgia," by strategy alone.

As the enemy had retired, there was but one thing left to do,—go after him and compel him to either fight or surrender, and this Rosecrans did without a moment's delay.

As Chattanooga was abandoned, General Crittenden took possession without serious opposition. The remainder of his troops were called up from the river, and on the same day that the news of the evacuation was spread around, he started with his corps for Ringgold, arriving at Rossville that evening. On the same day, Negley marched to McLemore's Cove, a split formed between Lookout Mountain and Pigeon Mountain, where he met the enemy's outposts and drove them back for several miles. At the same time Heg's brigade marched into Broomtown Valley, to support the cavalry, should they be needed.

The pursuit was growing warm, and the next day the advance of the Union troops was checked in several places and severe skirmishes resulted. General Bragg had left Chattanooga in haste, but had no idea of retreating without a battle. He reckoned that the Union forces were larger in numbers than his own, and he devised a plan for meeting them not as a whole but by columns.

The Confederate's first combination was directed against the corps under General Thomas. If he could reach and crush Thomas's force before the others could come up, he felt the remainder of the campaign would be comparatively plain sailing. The division under Negley at McLemore's Cove was not allowed to rest, for Bragg ordered a movement against it in great force.

Had Bragg's orders been carried out, there is no doubt but that Negley's division would have been overwhelmed by mere force of numbers if nothing else. But fortunately for Thomas's corps there was a delay. Hill sent word that the gaps were filled with felled timbers and could not be cleared in twenty-four hours. Bragg then ordered Buckner forward to cooperate with Hindman, but there was another fatal halt. To hasten this battle Bragg then moved his headquarters to Lafayette, and ordered more soldiers to this united attack, which was to fall on Negley, who was isolated from the balance of the Fourteenth Army Corps by mountains hard to travel.

All day long the Confederate commander listened for Hindman's proposed attack, but it did not come, for Hindman thought the force before him too strong and awaited reenforcements under Hill. In the meantime, General Baird had come to Negley's support. There was some sharp fighting, but Negley's division was saved and withdrew to the base of Lookout Mountain, where it was joined by Reynold's and Brennan's divisions; and then the Union centre was once more secure.



CHAPTER XXV

"HOLD THE HILL FOR TEN MINUTES, AT ANY COST!"

The first great movement of the Confederate commander having failed of success, he now tried another, which was to hurl his united forces upon Crittenden, who was approaching him from the direction of Chattanooga. He knew Crittenden's troops were divided by woods and mountains, and wrote to one of his generals, Polk: "This presents a fine opportunity of striking Crittenden in detail, and I hope you will avail yourself of it to-morrow. This division crushed, and the others are yours." He referred to the first division sent in the direction of Ringgold, not knowing that other troops had been sent after it. Wheeler's cavalry—or a large portion of it—was sent to cover Polk's right. But again there was a delay, Polk stating the enemy was too strong for him. Bragg, much put out, took Buckner's command and went to the front, only to learn a few hours later that Crittenden had reunited his forces and taken a stand on the other side of Chickamauga Creek.

So far there had been many movements and many forced marches, but no battle had resulted. There were still many changes, but in a work of this sort, written primarily to show the movements of the Riverlawn Cavalry, the details of these movements can hardly find a place. A battle seemed "in the air," and as day after day went by, both sides grew more anxious to fight, and each waited only for some slight advantage over the other.

General Rosecrans now made preparations to hold all the roads leading to Chattanooga east of the mountains. Van Cleve went to Crawfish Springs, Palmer to Gowan's Ford, McCook with several divisions took a mountain road to Stevens' Gap, to join Thomas, Sheridan marched down Lookout Valley to Johnson's Creek, and the cavalry went to Dougherty's Gap and McLemore's Cove. Thus were the three columns, right, centre, and left, once more within supporting distance of each other, "a matter of life and death," as General Rosecrans states in a report on the subject.

General Bragg now felt that he must do something. Two splendid chances for striking the Union forces had been allowed to slip by through the failure of his officers to carry out his instructions on time; he felt there must be no further failure. He would concentrate his whole army into one grand effort to crush General Rosecrans and all under him. His efforts were spirited and daring, and worthy of a far better cause than that of trying to split our glorious Union into fragments.

The first movement was to concentrate his army along the east bank of Chickamauga Creek, and here he awaited reenforcements under Longstreet from Virginia, in the meantime sending out orders as to how each division of his command should take part when the general movement began. All was in readiness by the 17th of September, and the order was given to move across the stream at six o'clock the next morning; a portion of his command to go across at Alexandria Bridge, another at Reed's Bridge, a third at Ledford's Ford, and others to try what could be done at Lee and Gordon's Mill, or Dalton's Ford. The plan looked to the destruction of the left wing of our army and the retaking of the roads leading to Chattanooga. It brought on the battle of Chickamauga, which lasted for two days, Saturday and Sunday, September 19th and 20th,—a nerve-trying contest neither the wearers of the blue nor the wearers of the gray were ever liable to forget.

While the Army of the Cumberland was concentrating on one side of the Chickamauga and the Army of Tennessee on the other, with several outside forces to aid, if possible, on one side or the other, the cavalry was employed along the river banks to report all movements of the enemy,—Minty being on the Union side and Forrest on the Confederate side. To the Union forces were added the Riverlawns, although they operated largely as an independent body.

The cavalry were stationed at both Reed's and the Alexandria Bridges, and beyond them, and in the afternoon of the day before the great battle, Colonel Lyon received hurried orders to proceed across Reed's Bridge in the direction of Pea Vine Creek, three miles eastward, to support some of Minty's cavalry who had encountered the Confederate forces under General Johnson. The colonel lost no time in obeying this command, and in less than three minutes after it was delivered the Riverlawns were galloping along the uneven pike, every company with full ranks and every man ready to do his duty.

Johnson had left Ringgold early in the morning, his instructions being to cross the Chickamauga at Reed's Bridge, and then to sweep onward toward Lee and Gordon's Mill. The way was hard, the roads covered with dust, and by two o'clock it was reported to him that the Union cavalry under Minty was in front, at Pea Vine Creek, ready to dispute his passage to the Chickamauga. His column consisted of four divisions of infantry, a portion of Forrest's cavalry, several batteries and eight pieces of reserve artillery.

"If Minty's cavalry is in front, so much the worse for Minty," were the Confederate's words. "Forward, and let every man do his best for the gallant stars and bars!"

The wearers of the gray responded with that battle-cry which has since become so well known; and the first division was hurled at Minty just as he appeared at a turn in the road not far from the little creek.

The shock was heavy but the cavalry stood up to it, and a rapid fire on both sides resulted. Seeing there were more Union cavalrymen in reserve, Johnson sent additional troops to the front, and Minty was gradually forced backward. It was then that the Riverlawns were called into action.

"You are wanted, Colonel Lyon!" cried the dashing Union commander, who sat astride of a steed covered with foam. "They are on us in overwhelming numbers, yet my orders are to hold this road and the bridge."

"I will help you all I can, Colonel," answered Colonel Lyon. "I'll go wherever you think is best."

"Then take that road to our right. I have sent some of my own troops to the left. Johnson may have so many men with him that he will try to cut off my rear."

"I will follow your directions, Colonel," said the commander of the Riverlawns; and, turning in the saddle, he issued the necessary orders; and away went the twelve companies across a small open field a short distance above Pea Vine Creek.

Minty had guessed correctly; Johnson was calculating to surround him, and a division of his troops was already hurrying to the right of the Union cavalry. There was a slight rise of ground, and it was the intention of the Confederate commander to have his left wing sneak around this. Once in the rear of Minty, the Union cavalry would be caught in a trap and either wiped out or compelled to surrender.

The Riverlawns were sweeping directly up the hill at full speed, with Deck in advance of the first battalion. His father was beside him, and both reached the top together, field-glasses in hand.

"There they are!" cried Deck, pointing with his hand. "We are none too soon!"

"You are right, my son," answered the colonel; and he motioned Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon to his side.

A plan of action was soon established; and by the time the Confederate force was within firing distance, the Riverlawns were drawn up along the brow of the hill in battalion ranks, each battalion resting within two hundred feet of that next to it.

"First company take aim—fire!" came the command; and the first blazed away, followed by the fifth, and the ninth,—the leaders of the second and third battalions. The smoke had not yet cleared away when the second, sixth, and tenth companies came to the front and discharged their carbines, and the companies behind these soon after followed suit.

The first volley did not halt the Confederates, but the second did, while the third and fourth rounds caused the leading companies to fall back, a score of men having been killed and wounded. But their leader urged them on, and they left the road and charged straight up the little hill.

Before the charge was made, Colonel Lyon saw that to combat with such a force with a single regiment of cavalry would be folly. Accordingly he despatched his orderly post-haste to Colonel Minty, with the following message:—

"Force operating on the right too heavy for me. Think it is half a division, or more. Will hold the top of the hill as long as I can."

The messenger had scarcely gone when the fight on the hillside began. The Confederates crowded forward in large numbers, and it looked as if the Riverlawns would be completely engulfed. But Colonel Lyon kept the whole three battalions up to the firing line, with the exception of the twelfth company, which was sent to the rear, to watch that they should not be cut off from concentration with Minty.

Two charges had been made, when the orderly came back.

"Hold the hill for ten minutes, at any cost!" was the message sent back. Minty was retreating, there being nothing else to do, and if the hill was lost, the Confederates would surround him before Alexandria Bridge could be gained.

"I will hold the hill," said Colonel Lyon, and waving his sabre, he came up directly to the front. "Men, we are asked to hold this hill for ten minutes. It means life or death to the cavalry on the Pea Vine Creek road. Will you help me to hold it?"

"We will!" came in a stirring cry. "We will!"

"I knew you would do it! This is our stand, and here we must remain! Do not budge an inch!"

"We'll stand like rocks!" shouted a heavy-set Kentuckian. "Hurrah for Colonel Lyon!"

There was a cheer, and a volley from the companies at the front. The smoke was now becoming thick, and in the midst of this the enemy swarmed up the hillside.

"First battalion—charge!" came the order, and away went the four companies, with Deck in the lead, to break down a column which was advancing on the left, the most vulnerable point on the rise of ground. There was a crash of musketry and a cracking of pistols, and then the clash of sabres, striking fire, as the two forces closed in.

The young major found himself in a trying position. The enemy counted three times more men than were in his own ranks, consisting of a battalion and a half of cavalry and an equal number of infantry. On the moment, he planned to charge the cavalry first and draw them away from the foot-soldiers. The plan succeeded, and then the contest became a little more equal.

Colonel Lyon watched the scene with bated breath, for Deck was far too daring, to his mind; but the moment the enemy's cavalry and infantry separated, he smiled to himself. Calling Major Belthorpe, he ordered him forward to engage the separated infantry, and in a minute more two battles were on instead of one on the hillside.

In the meantime Minty was falling back, slowly, but surely, doing all the damage possible as he retreated. It had not been presumed by General Rosecrans that Minty could overcome the forces under Johnson, but the Union commander wished to subject Bragg to delays in concentrating his troops, knowing that such delays usually worked to the Confederate's ultimate defeat.

Fearing that Minty could not hold the force against him back long enough, the general in command sent Wilder after him, to operate as the Riverlawns were operating. They came up in the midst of the contest, and aided materially in the retreat; but of their coming Colonel Lyon knew nothing.

Five minutes had gone by, and the Riverlawns were being pressed back. One company had been disorganized,—the fifth, Captain Gadbury being wounded, and the first lieutenant, Grand, being shot dead. Under these conditions, Second Lieutenant Sandy Lyon assumed command. The fifth company was the first of the second battalion, and Sandy now found himself charging the Confederate infantry just mentioned. He went in with vigor, and no one acted with greater heroism that day than did this young Kentuckian who had once marched under the stars and bars, but who had recognized the error of his ways, and was now fighting under the glorious stars and stripes.

"He's all there—Sandy is!" murmured old Titus Lyon, and there was something like a tear in his eye. "God bless him and preserve him for his mother's sake and for mine!" It did the old man's heart good to see his boy at the head of that dashing company of cavalrymen.

Exasperated at the stubborn resistance on the hill, Johnson sent forward another regiment of infantry to support the infantry and cavalry already in the field. What to do was now a question to Colonel Lyon. He looked at his watch. The Riverlawns had held the hill for exactly sixteen minutes. Should he fall back? If he remained he might be annihilated; if he fell back Minty might be lost.

A shout from the rear reached his ear. A staff-officer was riding toward him at breakneck speed. "Fall back—the retreat has been sufficiently covered!" came the order, and much relieved, Colonel Lyon ordered his battalions to retreat to the creek road, where they came up side by side with the front of the regular cavalry column. Minty had met Johnson at noon. It was now after three o'clock, and the Confederate advance had been delayed three hours. It could not be delayed longer, however, and Minty, Wilder, and the Riverlawns continued to fall back. Johnson reached Reed's Bridge shortly after three o'clock, and marched for Jay's Mill, arriving there an hour later. The Riverlawns went into camp not far from the Chickamauga, and awaited further orders.



CHAPTER XXVI

THE BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA

"Phew, but that was a hot time while it lasted!" observed Captain Artie Lyon, when the regiment was once more in a safe position and at ease. "Those fellows can fight if they set out for it."

"We were very fortunate, having lost no officers and but four men," answered Deck, to whom he was speaking. "The second battalion fared a good deal worse with that infantry. Captain Gadbury is so severely wounded he has been sent to the rear, and Lieutenant Grand is dead."

"Then Sandy will become captain of that company!" cried Artie. "Well, he deserves such a position, to my way of thinking."

"I am sorry for Captain Gadbury," resumed Deck, and he wondered what Margie Belthorpe would say when she heard that the gallant captain was wounded. As will be remembered, the relationship between Margie Belthorpe and Captain Gadbury was even more advanced than was the tender feeling between Deck and Kate Belthorpe.

Shortly after the conversation, Deck received permission to go to the rear and visit the injured captain. He found Gadbury suffering from a wound in the hip. It was not a dangerous shot, but one which would lay the dashing fellow up for some time. Deck saw to it that the captain was given every attention, and wrote to Margie telling her of what had happened. Later on, Captain Gadbury was removed to Lyndhall, where the Belthorpe sisters did all in their power to render his convalescent state pleasant in the extreme.

Matters had to move quickly, and as soon as the thing could be arranged, Sandy Lyon was made acting captain of the fifth company, with rank of first lieutenant. He assumed control with quiet dignity, and soon made himself fully as popular as Gadbury had been.

It was felt that General Bragg had one advantage—he could see without being seen. His scouts were on the top of Pigeon Mountain, and they watched every movement of the Union troops, while the Confederates lay concealed behind the thick growth of timber along the Chickamauga. The most Rosecrans could do was to keep his cavalry in motion, reporting every movement the instant it was developed in front of the Army of the Cumberland.

Bragg had concentrated his forces, and now he planned to strike one tremendous blow at a flank of the Union forces, and gain Rosecrans' rear and his line of communication with his depot of supplies. For this purpose the Confederate leader divided his forces into two corps, one under Polk and the other under Longstreet, Hood commanding the latter temporarily. The troops advanced in the darkness, and by midnight held all the fords of the Chickamauga from Lee and Gordon's Mill well toward Missionary Ridge.

But meanwhile, the Army of the Cumberland was not idle. Crittenden was on the left, and Bragg was going to strike him. By a forced march along the Dry Valley road during the night, Thomas with his entire corps, and followed by a portion of McCook's corps, reached a position facing the Reed and Alexandria bridges, now burned,—thus making the left wing of our army virtually the right wing. And not only did Thomas do this, but without waiting for Bragg to attack, or recover from his surprise, he forced the battle by trying to capture a Confederate brigade said to have become isolated from the balance of its command. This was the opening of the great battle.

To go into the details of this contest would require volumes. Accounts without number have been written, yet the tale is far from complete. Of the fighting, let it be said briefly that it covered miles of territory thickly overgrown with timber and crossed and recrossed by numerous creeks and brooks, with here and there a rocky elevation or a stretch of marsh land. In these thickets whole divisions became separated from their comrades in arms, and often a single regiment on one side would be found fighting a regiment on the other side, totally ignorant of what was going on around them. It was almost impossible to move the artillery around, and when pieces were captured they were generally found to be "white elephants" upon the victor's hands.

As has been said, Thomas opened the fight. He had been told by McCook of the isolated Confederate brigade, McCook stating that the bridge behind the brigade had been burned, so the Confederates could not retreat. To capture this brigade Thomas sent Brennan forward, with the result that the Union forces soon encountered, not one brigade, but three, under Forrest, which were protecting Bragg's right flank. The fighting opened fiercely, and it was found necessary to send Baird to the support, along with an extra Ohio regiment. But more of the Confederate forces appeared, under Liddell, and two brigades of Union troops were hurled back, with the loss of ten pieces of artillery.

This was the first round of the great contest, but ere the enemy had been given time to take breath, the Union troops pressed forward once more, and now, by a gallant charge of the Ninth Ohio one of the batteries lost was regained.

Thomas was now reenforced by a portion of Crittenden's command and some troops of McCook's, while Cheatham reenforced the Confederate front. The latter came forward in two columns, and as they separated Bragg placed Steward in the opening. The Confederates came on with terrific yells and in turn sent back first Palmer and then Van Cleve in great disorder. For a moment it looked as if the enemy would sweep all before them.

But Davis's division was now on the ground, and he advanced, supported by Wood, and the Union forces came to a halt and were reformed, when they drove almost all the Confederate forces back to their original positions. Sheridan's troops also took part in this movement, and a large number of the Confederates in Longstreet's corps were made prisoners.

It was now past noon, and after several charges in his division positions, Bragg began another assault, on the right of the Army of the Cumberland. The assault was led by Hood, who fell furiously upon Reynolds and Van Cleve. For a quarter of an hour it looked as if this fierce onset would prove successful, and it must be admitted that the Confederate valor was never greater than at this period.

"Down with the Yanks! We'll drive 'em into the Mississippi!" was the cry. "Hurrah for the stars and bars!"

Reynolds and Van Cleve were struck and driven back, but still they battled for every inch of the ground. In the meantime, portions of six batteries were hurried into position, and then a raking fire of canister was poured into the Confederate lines. But still on they came, until the tumult drew close to the Widow Glenn's house, where Rosecrans had his headquarters. The enemy occupied the Lafayette road, and our right was shattered,—and the day looked black. But now up came Negley's division on the double-quick, supported by Brennan, and, with a rousing battle-cry, went at Hood and Johnson, "tooth and nail," fighting so doggedly and taking such terrible punishment undauntedly, that the Confederates had at last, about sunset, to give way before them, and darkness ended the day's contest, with final victory still of the uncertain to-morrow. Still later, there was another outbreak, short and sharp, but with no positive results.

During this long day's fighting the cavalry operated principally along the upper fords of the Chickamauga, although occasionally called elsewhere, to save the artillery and to fill up breaks in the lines which, owing to the roughness of the ground, the infantry could not accomplish. The Riverlawns went into action at ten o'clock, half a mile from the creek proper, along the bank of a stream locally known as Duff's Claim. Here the growth of trees was heavy, but there was very little underbrush.

It was thought that a portion of the enemy's cavalry was moving upon Duff's Claim, with the intention of following the course of the stream and getting behind the Union lines half a mile to the northeast. A few isolated riders had been seen, and at first only the first battalion of the Riverlawns advanced to investigate. The route was uneven, and the four companies went ahead almost as separate commands, Deck riding with the fourth company and beside his brother Artie.

"The battle is on for certain, now," remarked Captain Artie, as the heavy roar of artillery reached their ears. "I think this day will bring forth some decided results."

"Yes, the two armies can't play hide-and-seek much longer," answered the young major. "Listen! That was artillery below this creek. I shouldn't wonder if we catch it all along the line."

"Those troops will try to come across here,—I don't doubt it for a moment. But we—What is it, Life?" he asked abruptly, as the tall captain of the seventh company dashed up from the timber on the left.

"We've spotted several companies of the enemy over in this direction," Life jerked his thumb toward the point to which Deck was marching. "Major Belthorpe thought I had best give you the tip."

"Are they moving?" asked Deck, much interested.

"No,—looks to me as if they were retreating—but it may be a blind."

"How is it you are here?"

"The colonel sent my company after your battalion, and Major Belthorpe is just coming up."

"What of Major Truman's command?"

"Two of the companies are over yonder, and the others are in the rear. I thought—Creation! Get to cover, quick!"

Life drew his own horse back, and the others followed suit. A dozen riflemen had opened upon them, putting a bullet through the mane of Deck's horse. The first volley was followed immediately by another, and Artie Lyon suffered the ruin of one of his shoulder straps. Before the Confederates could fire again, all were safely out of range.

"We've developed 'em," was Life's dry comment. "Reckon I had best get back to my command."

"Ask Major Belthorpe to request the colonel to send you over here with part of your men, if he can spare you. I am half of a mind those men over there are sharpshooters."

"I will do it, Major," answered the tall Kentuckian, and dashed away.

By this time the first three companies of the first battalion had fallen back to a safe position, and here all of the companies were joined, in ten minutes, by Life Knox, with half of his own company and half of Captain Ripley's best marksmen. A cautious advance was now ordered, and the sharpshooters advanced on their hands and knees in a huge semicircle. To learn the true condition of affairs, Deck went with Life, the two taking a course which soon brought them to where there was a little cove. Beyond this cove the creek split in two for the distance of thirty rods, forming a long island in the centre, one hundred and fifty feet wide at the middle, and heavily wooded.

"Some of the enemy are on that island, that's certain," whispered Life, as he came to a halt at the base of a sharp rock some four feet high. "Don't expose yourself, Deck."

"I don't intend to, Life. But what can those sharpshooters be doing here? They didn't know we were coming this way."

"That's true, Major."

"And they wouldn't be here just as an advance guard for some cavalry."

"Right again."

"Then why are they here?"

"I give it up."

"Well, I don't."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Find out why they are here."

"But that may be impossible, without an open fight."

"I wouldn't like to force an open fight until I know how those marksmen are backed up."

"That's just the trouble. I agree that the Johnnies are there on the island. To get to the island you have got to cross that stream. If you show yourself in the water, you're a dead man—that goes without saying. Now what are you going to do?" demanded the tall Kentuckian, with half a smile, feeling certain he had cornered Deck.

"Going over on the island."

"But you'll be shot!"

"I sincerely trust not."

"But you will be! It's suicide to wade that stream!"

"I shan't wade the stream."

"You can't jump it, for it is fifteen or eighteen feet wide, and a jump wouldn't be quick enough—to my way of looking at it. You'd land, and drop, sure pop."

"I shan't wade across, neither will I attempt to jump across," smiled the young major.

"Then how in thunder do you expect to get over to the island?" demanded Life, earnestly.

"Wait and see, Life; and in the meantime keep that spot well covered," answered Deck; and he pointed up the stream a distance of twenty yards.

"What has that spot got to do with your getting over there?"

"Everything."

"The stream is wider there by five feet than it is down below."

"Perhaps you had better not ask any more questions, Life. But don't fail to keep that point covered," concluded Deck; and in a moment more he had glided off through the brush bordering the stream.



CHAPTER XXVII

MAJOR LYON PLAYS THE PART OF A SPY

Major Dexter Lyon had made up his mind that a portion of the hostile sharpshooters were concealed upon the narrow island in the centre of the stream known as Duff's Claim. Several shots had been fired, and both he and Life Knox had come to the conclusion that these had come from the heavily wooded strip of land.

The major was very anxious to know what the sharpshooters were doing in this vicinity. No Union force had been in the neighborhood for forty-eight hours, and why should the enemy send such expert shots to such a spot unless it was known that they were wanted? Surely the Confederates had no sharpshooters to spare on a mere excursion into these woods.

The major was in the habit of thinking rapidly, and his conclusion was, that the sharpshooters were guarding something, which must, necessarily, be of value, especially to the army. His mind went back to the time when he had captured the ammunition and gun on the raft. Would it be his good fortune to make another haul of as much, or greater, worth?

It must be remembered that at this time the Riverlawns knew nothing of the great battle which General Thomas had precipitated by sending out troops to capture the brigade supposed to be isolated from the remainder of the Confederate command. To be sure, heavy firing was springing up here and there, but then there had been heavy firing before which had amounted to but very little when it came to summing up results.

When Deck had been conversing with Life, his eye had been caught by two gigantic willow trees growing along the banks of Duff's Claim. One tree was along the shore where the Kentuckian's men lay concealed; the other grew on the shore of the island, directly opposite. Both trees were bent and twisted, and their branches interlocked some fifteen feet above the stream's surface.

Perhaps the task Deck had set for himself may look easy to the average reader, but it was not altogether so, and the major realized this. The willows were old, and old trees often have rotten limbs which break when least expected. Moreover green willow limbs are very pliable and bend and twist beyond expectation. Under ordinary circumstances, Deck would not have minded a tumble into the stream, but he knew that a tumble now would bring a shot meant to be fatal and one which would most likely prove so.

For Deck had decided to cross the stream by climbing up the tree nearest to him and making his way from one set of branches to the next. The tree was easily gained; and catching a limb on the side away from the water, he hauled himself up. Two minutes more, and he was at the point where he could grasp the branches which came from the opposite shore.

So far he had heard or seen nothing to awaken his suspicion, and he was beginning to think that no sharpshooter could be within a hundred feet of him, if as close. He caught the limbs, took a long step, and in a second was safe on the tree beyond the stream.

Deck did not deem it best to descend to the ground immediately. He moved first to the main trunk of the willow, and then to the ends of the limbs spreading toward the island's interior. Here there was a ridge, surmounted by some short but heavy brush, and behind the ridge was something of a hollow, although the surface was not below that of the stream.

The first thing that caught Deck's eye now was a barrel, rolled against the brush. Half a dozen boxes lay close by, and several barrels were behind them. Back of all was another line of brush, but he felt that more boxes and barrels were not far off.

"Some quartermaster's stores," he thought. "And if I am not mistaken, two of those boxes are from the hospital department. Evidently the enemy think they have a sure thing of it in this vicinity. Well, the Riverlawns will surprise them, I reckon."

No one had been in sight, but now Deck detected the gleam of a gun barrel but a few yards distant. The Confederate sharpshooter lay flat on his chest, peering through the bottom of some brush.

"By the boots, but thet's a good shot!" Deck heard him mutter; and he saw the fellow draw up his gun and take a careful aim at something.

Deck felt that he was firing at one of his own sharpshooters, and without hesitation the major drew his own pistol.

"Don't fire!" he commanded, in a clear, but low voice.

"What's thet?" demanded the Confederate, thinking one of his comrades had spoken to him.

"I said, 'don't fire,'" replied Deck, taking care to keep out of sight.

"Who is thet talkin' to me?" And now the sharpshooter turned half around. "I had a dandy shot."

"The cap'n's orders are not to fire, but to retreat to the other side of the creek," went on Deck. "Pass the order along;" and he spoke in a rough voice, and one apparently filled with disgust.

"Well, I swan!" came from the Confederate sharpshooter. "It was a dandy chance to bring down a man."

"I had a dandy chance myself just now," answered Deck. He felt that his position was a delicate one, and he kept his finger on the trigger of his pistol.

"Are you going to retreat, too?"

"No; the cap'n says I'm to stay on guard here."

"Then he don't want me no more?"

"No. You are to go back—and don't forget to pass the word along. We're running the chance of being surrounded, I've heard."

At this the Confederate sharpshooter muttered something Deck did not catch. But he arose, and fell back, and in a few seconds more was out of the major's sight.

Deck's ruse had succeeded, but he knew that the success would be of uncertain duration. His position was a perilous one, for discovery would more than likely mean death.

Anxious to make the most of the present opportunity, he began to retreat, hoping to gain the position his command occupied and give the necessary instructions to capture the Confederates as they crossed the stream on the opposite side of the island.

He reached the trunk of the tree and was on the point of moving to the outer branches, when a voice from below startled him.

"Wot yer doin' with thet Union suit on?"

Looking down, Deck saw a sharpshooter gazing up at him. The Confederate had his gun to his shoulder and the barrel was pointed directly for the major's head.

"Got to wear something," answered Deck, speaking as calmly as he could, although he was somewhat shocked by the salutation.

"Ain't you a Yank?" was the next question put.

"A Yank! over here?" queried Deck, in pretended astonishment.

The Confederate sharpshooter was silent for an instant, and shifted an immense quid of plug tobacco from one cheek to the other.

"Say, Major, tumble down right yere!" he ordered abruptly.

"Supposing I won't come down?"

"Then I'll have to tumble you."

"So you take me for a Union man?"

"I reckon I take you for a prisoner, or a corpse. Which is it?"

"I haven't any desire to become a corpse," answered Deck.

"Then you'll come down? Correct, Major. Toss them pistols down fust, though."



The gun was still pointed at Deck's head while the sharpshooter remained partly screened by some brush. As there seemed no help for it Deck threw down his pistol and also an extra revolver he had lately taken to carrying. His sabre had been left in Life Knox's charge.

"Now come down, and no funny work," went on the Confederate. "I reckon you didn't reckon on bein' took so quick like, did ye?"

"I didn't reckon on 'bein' took' at all," answered Deck. It was an easy matter to descend to the ground and soon he found himself standing beside the man. He was a brawny mountaineer, all of six feet in height and the picture of rugged health and strength. There was no doubt but that he was a crack shot and would not hesitate to pull a trigger whenever the occasion required.

"We-uns is lucky," murmured the mountaineer, on surveying Deck. "Them is splenderiferous clothes you have got, Major."

"It is a very good suit, that's a fact, Sergeant."

"Don't call me sergeant, Major. I'm plain Tom Lum, from Dog-face Mountain, down in Alabama. Them stripes was left behind by a man as ain't got no further use fer clothin'. But you're a real major, I take it."

"Let us change the subject, Tom Lum. What do you propose to do with me?"

"Take you back to headquarters, I reckon. You're a spy."

"If I am a spy then all of the others in this vicinity are spies. But, Tom Lum, if you want to take my advice, you'll let me go, and save your own bacon," went on Deck, earnestly. The mountaineer tossed his shaggy head and combed his flowing beard with his crooked fingers. "Got a new wrinkle to work off on me, have ye? Wall, it won't work. We-uns know a thing or two. March!"

"Where to?"

"Back to—"

Bang!

The gunshot rang out before plain Tom Lum from Dog-face Mountain had time to finish his sentence. With a groan the mountaineer threw up his arms, staggered several steps, and pitched headlong into a hollow.

"Quick, Deck, or you'll never get away!" It was a cry from Life Knox, who had come up beside the willow on the other side of the stream and fired the shot, as Deck and the Confederate appeared through a small opening. "Never mind your shooting irons!"

The shot amazed the major, coming so unexpectedly. But he was quick to realize that a chance to escape had come and equally prompt to make the best of it. Like a flash he turned, picked up his pistols, and ran for the stream.

"This way, Deck!" continued Life. "The jig is up! The enemy are coming up behind us!"

"Behind us?" repeated the major, in amazement. "What do you mean?"

"There has been a fight back of this woods, and several regiments of infantry are retreating in this direction. If we are not sharp, we'll catch it on both sides!"

Before Deck had a chance to digest this information, he caught it from the rear. Another sharpshooter had espied him in the act of leaping across the stream. As Deck went with a splash into the water, the fellow fired, and the major felt a stinging sensation in the left arm, just below the shoulder, where the ball had grazed him.

"Heavens I don't say you are struck, Deck," ejaculated Life, seeing him stagger. "Take that for it!" he added, and fired at the Confederate who had delivered the shot. Whether he hit his man or not he could not tell, but the sharpshooter disappeared.

In another moment the major was beside the captain and orders were given for the sharpshooters to charge toward the island, which they did with vigor. In the meantime, Deck fell back to where the battalion lay.

"I have received orders to form on the road facing the stream," said Colonel Lyon. "Something is coming this way besides the Confederate infantry. The enemy is retreating."

Without delay, the three battalions minus half of Captain Knox's company and half of Ripley's sharpshooters, were faced about according to the order. They had hardly taken positions favorable to each, when the outposts came running in.

"Three regiments of infantry and a part of a battery!" was the announcement. "They are coming along as though they were followed by the Old Nick himself!"

Colonel Lyon looked at Deck, his first major.

"We must meet them, and stop them—such are my orders, my son."

"As far as the first battalion is able, the orders shall be carried out, Colonel," replied the son, with a true military salute.

Majors Belthorpe and Truman were also called up, and told what had to be done, and the various captains were also instructed.

Hardly was this over, than a company and a half of infantry appeared, running at more than double-quick, over rocks and brush, some armed and some unarmed, and more without knapsacks than with them. They were followed by what seemed to be remnants of several other companies.

"Halt! I command you to halt, you cowards!" yelled a frenzied major of the Confederates. "What are you running for?"

"Ain't got no more ammunition!" called back a soldier, almost breathlessly. "Where's the ammunition they said was around here?"

"It is not far away. I say halt! Halt! Halt! and you shall have ammunition! Halt!" stormed the Confederate officer, but without avail, for a panic is a panic, and hard to subdue, even among those who are naturally the bravest of soldiers.

"They are coming like sheep!" exclaimed Deck. "First company, take aim—fire! Second company forward!" And around swung the battalion, one company after another delivering such an effective fire that the enemy stopped in a state bordering on total despair. Then half a dozen companies appeared which were not so panic-stricken. A cannon, dragged by eight struggling and almost exhausted horses, followed; and then came more infantry, until the woods seemed alive with them.

"We are in for the greatest fight of our lives!" cried Major Deck to Captain Artie. "How it will end Heaven alone knows!"

And then and there the Riverlawns got their first taste of that never-to-be-forgotten battle of Chickamauga Creek.



CHAPTER XXVIII

AN ADVENTURE AT CRAWFISH SPRINGS

The three battalions of the Riverlawns had been drawn up in something of a semicircle, the first under Deck occupying the right, the second the centre of the road, and the third the left. As the road was scarcely eight feet wide and winding through the woods at that, all of the companies were practically behind more or less shelter.