"This shows how impossible it is to trust anybody these times," said Rodney, in deep disgust.

Their regiment having gone into camp, the two friends were strolling about the town to see what they could find, and the first thing they discovered was not at all calculated to allay the indignation they felt at being outwitted by the vigilant Federals. It was a rough charcoal sketch on the wall of a building they passed during their walk. It represented a lean, long-haired, ragged rebel dancing in an ecstacy of rage over an empty money-box. The soldier who drew the sketch was an artist of no mean order, and the picture told its story as plainly as words.

"It proves that the Yankees knew we were coming and what we were coming for," continued Rodney. "It's an insult, and I hope we will not go back until we have thrashed them for it most soundly."

The army rested for two days at Warrensburg, and then moved upon Lexington, whither the money had been conveyed; but Rodney and Dick had no hopes of wearing the new uniforms and wrapping themselves in the warm blankets that their share of the hundred thousand would purchase for them, if they had it. They were afraid they wouldn't get any of it, and this fear was confirmed when their advance guard was severely repulsed by less than half a regiment of Home Guards who were found strongly entrenched at Lexington. The attack, which was renewed on the 12th of September, after Colonel Mulligan arrived with his Irish brigade, bringing the strength of the garrison up to twenty-five hundred men, was even more disastrous than the first, and Price retired to wait until his supplies of ammunition could be brought up. He waited six days, and during that time not a soldier was thrown into the garrison, while Price saw his own army growing daily. Every man in the country for miles around, and every boy, too, who was strong enough to handle a gun, "rushed to Lexington to take part in the victory to which Price invited them." The few Union men there were left in that part of the State came with the rest, because it was the only thing they could do to save themselves and their property from the vengeance of the rebels. The real battle began on the 18th, and on the afternoon of the 20th, after fifty-two hours of constant fighting, when his ammunition and provisions were almost exhausted and his supply of water entirely cut off, the brave colonel, who afterward died on the field of Winchester

"And dying—'Lay me down And save the flag!' he cried,"

gave up the struggle, and surrendered a worn-out garrison of two thousand five hundred men to an army of more than twenty thousand. It was a grand victory—almost as grand as the one Beauregard won over Anderson at Fort Sumter. By it Price secured "a great number of stands of arms, a considerable quantity of ammunition, a vast amount of commissary stores, and nine hundred thousand dollars in hard cash." He did not abuse his power but paid tribute to the courage of the men who had so long resisted him by releasing the soldiers on parole, and keeping the officers only as prisoners.

Having accomplished his object and rallied to his standard all the scattered bands of partisans in Northern Missouri, and hearing that Fremont was advancing upon him, while Hardee, who was to support him by moving up the river from New Madrid, had been driven back, Price turned and ran, sending his mounted troopers to threaten several points at once, misleading the Federals who had hastily assembled to harass his rear, and thus securing an almost unobstructed road for his retreat. These advance troopers had a few engagements, and Rodney and Dick took part in the most of them, but Price could neither be overtaken nor stopped. The two friends were among the first to ride into Neosho, a little town in the southwestern part of the State, toward which the march had been directed, and the first man they met gave them some information that struck them dumb with surprise and indignation. He was a farmer who had just sold a load of provisions to the soldiers, and he drove his empty wagon out of the road to let the regiment pass.

"We're into the mud now as deep as the rest of 'em," said he, as Rodney's company rode by. "If Caroliny gets stretched up by the neck, we-uns will have to be stretched, too."

"What do you mean by that?" inquired Captain Jones.

"The Legislator is over there in that house," replied the farmer, "and they've just give out some kind of a paper saying that this State of Missoury don't belong to the old Union no more, but is one of the Confedrit States of Ameriky."

"Do you mean that the State has seceded?" cried the captain, while his men looked at him and at one another as if they could not understand what the farmer was trying to tell them. "There's cheek for you. Why, the whole of the State, except this part of it right around here, is over-run with Yankees."

"I don't know nothing about that," replied the farmer; and he was obliged to turn around on his seat and shout the words, for Rodney's company had been riding straight ahead all the time. "It's only what I heard. Mebbe you'll find somebody up the street that can tell you all about it."

The story was so improbable that the boys could not make up their minds to believe it. The Legislature, which had run almost as far as it could get without going over the line into Arkansas, had no authority over the State, three-fourths of whose territory was under the control of the Union forces, and level-headed Dick Graham did not hesitate to say, in the presence and hearing of his captain, that if the Legislature had passed an Act of Secession, they were idiots, the last one of them. But the Confederate authorities Were given to doing foolish things. Read the proclamation Jefferson Davis issued from Danville while he was running for his life!

"If that is true we are in a pretty fix," said Rodney, as soon as he could speak. "I came up here to keep out of the Confederate army, and now I am made a Confederate in spite of myself. And so are you. You are under control of the government at Richmond now, and next week you may be ordered to Virginia."

"But I'll not go," exclaimed Dick. "I'll serve right where I am until my time is out, and then I'll go home. But look here. The Richmond government can't order me out of Missouri without violating the very principle we are fighting for—State Rights. They can ask me to go, but just see how utterly inconsistent they will be if they try to compel me to go."

"I hope you are right, but I wouldn't be afraid to bet anything I've got that you are wrong," answered Rodney; and his friend's words did not in the least encourage him. "That would be the right way to do things, but you ought to see that it wouldn't be sensible. What's the use of having Confederate soldiers if they are not to obey the orders of the Confederate government? If it suits them to do it, those fellows in Richmond will ride rough-shod over State Rights."

"Oh, they won't do that," exclaimed Dick, waving his hands up and down in the air. "They can't do it. Their government will fall to pieces like a rope of sand if they try it."

The boys wondered what their general would think of the situation, and when the artillery came into town they found out. A few sections of it wheeled into line at a gallop, and celebrated the secession of the State by firing one hundred guns. Rodney and Dick were intensely disgusted. They listened in a half mutinous way when the adjutant read the act the next day on dress parade, and tossed up their caps and shouted with the rest; but they did these things for the same reasons that impelled hundreds of others in camp to do them—because they knew it would not be safe to show any lack of enthusiasm.

The fact that they were no longer State troops but full-fledged Confederates was not fully impressed upon Rodney and his fellow soldiers until some months later, when the Richmond government was all ready to put its despotic plans into execution. Probably the general commanding saw that there was much dissatisfaction among his men, and did not think it prudent to draw the reins too tight. He drilled his troops a little oftener and a little harder, and was rather more particular about granting furloughs, and this gave the boys no ground for complaint; but they were constantly harassed by the fear that the future had something ominous in store for them.

Price retreated as Fremont advanced, and a second battle was fought at Wilson's Creek, during which the commander of the Union forces made a cavalry charge that is still spoken of as one of the most brilliant episodes of the war. But when Fremont was displaced by Hunter, the latter fell back toward Rolla, thus allowing Price to recover the ground from which he had just been driven. He was prompt to take advantage of the opportunity, this time directing his columns toward Kansas, with the intention of getting supplies for his troops, and cutting the State off from all communication with St. Louis. But Halleck succeeded Hunter on the 18th of November, and before a month had passed away Price in turn was compelled to retreat, his men being captured by the thousand, together with large quantities of arms and supplies of ammunition and provisions. It began to look now, to quote from Dick Graham, as though the boot was on the other foot. Instead of running the Yankees out of Missouri, the Yankees had run them out, fairly and squarely, for when Price went into camp it was over the line in the State of Arkansas. Every one of the plans that the Confederates had made for keeping the State in their possession and capturing St. Louis, had been broken up by the strategy of the Union generals. The battle of Belmont, which took place in the month of November, has been called a Confederate victory, but it was not so in reality. General Grant didn't fight that engagement because he cared a cent for Belmont, for he knew he could not hold it if he got it. All he wanted was to keep the Confederates from sending troops from Columbus, Kentucky, to co-operate with Price in Missouri. He accomplished his object by keeping Polk busy at home, and Price was driven into Arkansas.

"And we are here with him," said Dick to his friend Rodney, as the two lay beside their camp-fire at Cove Creek, talking over the situation. "We said we never would go out of Missouri."

"That is what you said," replied Rodney. "After the farce those old women went through up there at Neosho, taking the State out of the Union when they had no authority over it, I knew we were going to see trouble. And mark my words: we have only seen the beginning of it."

Either General Halleck's army was not as strong as he would like to have had it, or else he over-estimated the strength of the enemy, for he fell back and the Confederates went into winter quarters, Price at Springfield and McCulloch just over the line into Arkansas. Now the two friends had time and opportunity for visiting, but there was no one for them to visit. Dick showed Rodney where his father's house and Mr. Percival's had once stood, but there was nothing left of them but blackened ruins. The rebels had "done the business" for one, and Union men had "cleaned out" the other. Dick fully expected to find it so, for he had often seen such evidence of vandalism and hatred during his long marches through the State. The boys afterward learned that Dick's father and mother had taken refuge with friends in Little Rock, while Mr. Percival's family had, in some mysterious way, succeeded in reaching St. Louis. Rodney was depressed by the sight of the ruins, and thanked his lucky stars that his father and mother lived in a State in which such things never could be done. The few Union men there were in and around Mooreville would never dare trouble his folks, and the Yankees would not be able to penetrate so far into the Confederacy.

Garrison duty, as the boys called their life in winter quarters, was most distasteful to them, and it was with great delight that they listened to the rumors which early in February came up from McCulloch's camp, to the effect that the two armies were to take the field again at once, but that their campaign was to be in a different direction. These rumors did not say that the Richmond government had decided to give up the struggle in Missouri and turn its attention to more important points, but the men, who talked freely in the presence of their officers, declared that that was what the new move would amount to. They were to proceed to New Madrid to operate with the Army of the Center in checking the advance of the Federals, who were threatening Island No. 10.

For once rumor told the truth and the move was made, though not in the way Rodney and Dick thought it would be. One Sunday morning there was a terrible uproar made by a scouting party which came tearing into camp with the information that General Curtis's army, forty thousand strong, was close upon Springfield and more coming. This rumor was also true; and "Old Pap Price," as his men had learned to call him, who was not much of a fighter but a "master hand at running," made haste to get his wagon-train out of the way. To quote once more from Dick Graham, it was hardly worth the trouble, for the oxen were so lean and weak that they could scarcely walk, and the wagons, which were fit for nothing but fire-wood, were loaded with a lot of rubbish that was of little value. But "Old Pap" was bent on saving everything he had, and could not have worked harder to take this train to a place of security if it had been freighted with the money he captured at Lexington. The retreat soon became a rout. The whole country was thrown into a state of alarm, and people came flocking from all directions, bringing with them the few household effects that the different raiding parties had left them. Price kept up a running fight until some of McCulloch's troops came up, and then the Federal advance was checked.

If General Curtis intended this sudden movement for a surprise he could not have selected a better time for it, and if he had kept his two columns together, instead of sending Siegel off with thirteen thousand men to operate in another quarter, Price's army would have "been eliminated from the problem of war," and the battle of Pea Ridge would not have been fought. McCulloch's army was divided, and McCulloch himself was away in another direction surveying a route for the march to New Madrid; and Price, relying upon the inhabitants to keep him posted in regard to the movements of our forces, as well as upon the supposed impassable condition of the roads in his front, was whipped before he knew there was an enemy anywhere within reach of him. Then followed a disastrous retreat of an army without provisions or tents, along a muddy road, through a snow storm so blinding that one could scarcely see ten feet ahead of him, and it went on until it was stopped by a telegram from General Van Dorn, who had been appointed to command the Confederate Army of the West because Price and McCulloch could not agree. The new general, who declared that "all retrograde movements must be stopped at once," and that "henceforth the army must press on to victory," arrived on the 2d of March, drove Siegel out of Bentonville on the 5th, and on Friday and Saturday fought the battle of Pea Ridge—a thing that he might as well have let alone, for he did not do what he set out to do. He retreated one way, while General Curtis went another and settled down to await reinforcements. Van Dorn gave his men to understand that he was not beaten, but he couldn't stop to pursue Curtis, because his orders compelled him to at once proceed with all his available force to join the Army of the Center on the Mississippi.

Then came that dreary march to Van Buren of which we have spoken, and which was a little ahead of anything Rodney had ever dreamed of. The weary and hungry soldiers had long since ceased to expect anything from the commissary department, which had disappeared as completely as though it had never existed, and provisions of every sort were so scarce that the different regiments and companies were obliged to break into little squads and forage on their own account, the only instructions they received being to the effect that they were to get to Van Buren as soon as they could. As Dick and Rodney had the reputation of being excellent foragers, and were known to be well supplied with gold, they had no difficulty in keeping the members of their mess together. The gold brought them corn bread, chickens and milk when Confederate scrip would have failed, and when they came to compare notes with the rest of the regiment at Van Buren, they found that they had fared very well. The bulk of Price's army had passed on ahead of them, going down into cellars and up into garrets, and poking about in hay-mows and stacks in search of provender that had been hastily concealed by the anxious citizens, and Rodney often wondered how McCulloch's men, who brought up the rear, managed to keep body and soul together.

It was a dreary time taken all around, but their troubles did not end when they arrived at Van Buren, as they hoped they would. It is true they again came within sight of a commissary department with an abundance of provisions, a quartermaster's department with a lot of mixed-up baggage and camp equipage, blankets and overcoats that had been thrown off and left at different places along the route, and here they were allowed to rest until the stragglers came up and reported; but their march was not ended. Their destination was Pocahontas, which was nearly two hundred miles farther on.

It was while they were enjoying a much needed rest in camp at Van Buren that they heard one piece of news that raised them to the highest pitch of excitement, and two others that brought their spirits down to zero. The first was brought to camp by a member of Dick's mess who had somehow managed to get hold of a paper containing a greatly exaggerated account of the first day's fight at Pittsburg Landing.

"Listen to this, boys," he shouted, as the mess gathered around him and the soldiers came running from all directions to see what the excitement was about. "'If we've been worsted here in the West, our friends in the East have made up for it by sweeping everything before them. Grant, the Yankee general, has been surprised at Shiloh, his army driven pell-mell through their camp and down under the bank of the river, where their gunboats saved them. Johnston lived long enough to see the Yankees in full flight and then he was killed; but Beauregard, who took his place, telegraphs that "certain destruction awaits the enemy on the morrow."' That would be—let me see. Why, this paper is two weeks old," he added, in a disappointed tone, glancing at the date.

"No matter; we whipped them," exclaimed Rodney; and when some one proposed three cheers for the Army of the Center, he pulled off his cap and joined in with a will.

Captain Jones, who brought with him a longer face than any of his company had ever seen him wear before, sauntered up while the cheering was going on, and asked what it was all about. When he learned that they were happy over the glorious news from Shiloh, he said, as he drew a couple of papers from his pocket:

"You fellows are away behind the times. That news is old, and Beauregard hollered before he was out of the woods. Read this later account," he continued, handing one of the papers to Dick, and placing a finger upon the column to which he wished to draw attention. "And after you have read that, take the other paper and see what it says about conscription."

The captain turned on his heel and walked away, but looked back with an expression of astonishment on his face when he heard one of his men exclaim:

"Has the Richmond government really passed a Conscription Act? Then I say bully for the Richmond government. There are lots of sneaks in our town who shouted 'sick 'em,' to us, but who were too cowardly to put on a uniform themselves. If they have got to come in whether they want to or not, I am a Confederate from this minute. Read about the battle first, sergeant, and then we'll hear about the conscription law."

Dick complied, and before he got through there were some angry and astonished men standing around him.



CHAPTER XVII.

RODNEY MEETS A FRIEND.

Sergeant Graham first read aloud the account of the second day's fighting at Pittsburg Landing; but of course the fact that Beauregard had sustained a crushing defeat and been forced to retire from Corinth, was carefully concealed. It was to be expected, the paper said, that twenty-five thousand fresh men would turn the tide of battle in favor of the enemy, but even against these overwhelming odds the Confederates had held their own until noon, and then left the field in good order.

"I don't see anything to feel bad over in that account," said Rodney, whose war-like spirit arose every time he heard a glowing story of a fight. "We knew when we went into this thing that the Yankees could raise more men than we could, and we expected to fight against big odds. Now for the conscripts," and when Rodney said this, he thought of Tom Randolph, and hoped that he would be the first Mooreville citizen to "draw a prize."

He thought he could imagine how Tom would look and feel after he had made a campaign with a foot or more of mud under his feet, dripping storm-clouds over his head and not so much as a crumb of corn bread in his haversack, and laughed silently as he pictured him at a smoking camp-fire with a lot of veterans "poking fun" at him. His own term of service would soon expire, and he hoped he should reach home in time to see Tom march out with the first squad of conscripts that left Mooreville; but as Dick proceeded to read the abstract of the Act as it appeared in the paper, all the while pushing the sheet farther and farther from him as his amazement and anger increased, Rodney found that the situation was not quite so amusing as he thought, and that he, Rodney Gray, was in a worse box than his friend, Tom Randolph. It was the first general conscription law of the Confederacy, and "it withdrew every non-exempt citizen, between the ages of eighteen and thirty-five, from State control, and placed him absolutely at the disposal of the President during the war." When Dick had read this far he looked at his comrades to see what they thought of it.

"Why, it's—it's—the Czar of Russia couldn't do worse," exclaimed the first one who recovered control of his tongue. "It's a fraud—a despotic act. Where are our State Rights now, I should like to know?"

"Go on," said Captain Jones, who stood on the outskirts of the group but within hearing distance. "There's worse to come."

Dick Graham, who did not see how anything could be worse, went on with his reading and found that the Act "annulled all contracts made with volunteers for short terms, holding them to service for two years additional, should the war continue so long; and all twelve months' recruits, below eighteen and over thirty-five years, who would otherwise have been exempted by this law, were to be retained in service for ninety days after their term expired."

"Hey—youp!" yelled Dick, dancing about like one demented. "Our own government is ten times worse than the one we are fighting against, and every one of us was a fool for ever putting on a gray jacket. Why didn't they tell us all this in the first place, so that we might know what there was before us? It's a fraud and a cheat and a swindle and a—and a—what are you about?" he added, turning almost fiercely upon his captain, who elbowed his way through the excited group and tried to take the paper from his hand. "I'll not obey the orders of the Richmond government, and that's all there is about it."

"I was going to direct your attention to something else," replied the captain, paying no heed to the sergeant's rudeness. "But since you are so nearly beside yourself I don't suppose you can read it, and so I had better tell you what it is. You say you will not obey the orders of the Richmond government?"

"That is what I said, and I will stick to it," exclaimed Dick. "They have no right—"

"Hold on a bit," the captain interposed.

"They may not have the right but they have the power, and you will have to give in. They offer you inducements to re-enlist for two years. You will be regarded as volunteers, and be allowed the privilege of changing your officers and electing new ones."

This was a big inducement indeed. The men laughed derisively when they heard it.

"If you don't volunteer, but insist on leaving the army when your term of service expires, you will never get out of the camp," continued the captain. "You will be conscripted."

"I don't care if I am," answered Dick, indignantly. "I'll not do duty."

"Then you will be treated as a mutineer and run the risk of being shot without the benefit of a drum-head court-martial," said the captain; whereupon the men backed off, thrust their hands into their pockets and looked at him and at one another. "I tell you, boys, this is no time for foolishness," the captain went on, earnestly. "Ever since Bull Run the Northern people have been showing the mettle that's in them. That defeat got their blood up and they mean business. They have more volunteers than they want. Their armies are growing stronger every day, while ours are growing weaker every hour. To be honest, there isn't half the patriotism now there was among us when these troubles first begun. Desertions are alarmingly frequent, and voluntary enlistments are almost entirely suspended. We must have men to fight our battles, or else surrender our cherished liberties to such Hessians and Tories as Curtis brought against us at Pea Ridge."

"And whipped us with," added one of the men; and the captain couldn't contradict him, for it was the truth. He could only look at him reproachfully.

"'Is Sparta dead in your veins?'" exclaimed the captain, quoting from the speech of Spartacus to his fellow gladiators. "Are you willing to give up whipped and permit a lot of Regicides and Roundheads to put their feet on your necks?"

Taking this for his text the officer spoke earnestly for ten minutes, drawing largely from the fiery editorials of the Southern papers, which he had read so often that he had them by heart, and trying his best to infuse a little of his own spirit into the angry, scowling men who had crowded around him, but without any very flattering success. There was but one thought in their minds—they had been duped by the Richmond government, which had so suddenly developed into a despotism that it was plain the machinery for it had been prepared long before. They could not go home even for a short time to visit their friends after their term of service had expired, and it is no wonder that they felt sore over it. Seeing that he could not arouse their patriotism, the captain next tried to arouse their combativeness.

"On the same day that the battle of Shiloh was decided against us, there was another struggle settled a hundred miles nearer to us," said he. "That too went against us. Island No. 10, the stronghold that was to have kept the enemy from going down the Mississippi, has fallen, and the way is open to Memphis."

"But the Yankees will never get there," exclaimed Rodney. "When I came up the river on the Mollie Able, I heard a man say we had a fleet building there that would eventually take Cairo and St. Louis too."

"I certainly hope he was right, but things don't seem to point that way now," replied the captain.

"That is good news for us in one respect," Dick Graham remarked. "New Madrid must have fallen too, and if that is the case, we'll not be ordered there. It's too late. We'll stay in our own State."

The captain shook his head, and his men knew by the expression on his face that he had something yet to tell them.

"There's where you are wrong," said he. "We are going to Memphis as quick as we can get there, and from Memphis we shall go to Corinth to join the army under Beauregard. I am sorry you boys feel so about it, but I really don't see how you are going to help yourselves. Now brace up and do your duty like men, as you always have done it. I don't want to see any of you get into trouble, but you certainly will if you kick over the traces."

This last announcement was altogether too much for the men, who turned away in a body, muttering the heaviest kind of adjectives, "not loud but deep." When the two boys were left alone with the captain the latter inquired:

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," growled Rodney.

"Well, you will have to stay in ninety days after your term expires. Will that make you eighteen?"

"No, it wouldn't; and if it did they would be careful not to say so."

"Then I don't see what reason you have to get huffy over a thing that can't be helped," continued the officer. "We must have men, and if they will not come in willingly, they must be dragged in. We can't be subdued; we never will consent to be slaves. But you two will get out all right."

"We knew it all the while; at least I thought of it," replied Dick, "but I didn't want to mention it while the rest of the boys were around. They are mad already, and it might make them worse to know that we two are better off than they are."

"But I want to tell you that you will make a big mistake if you accept your discharges," the captain went on to say. "You ought by all means to stay in until this thing is settled and the invaders driven from our soil. You'll wish you had when you see the boys come home covered with glory. And then think of the possibilities before you! You are bound to be promoted, and that rapidly. If I had your military education I would not be satisfied with anything short of a colonelcy."

"Well, you may have it, and since you want it, I hope you will get it; but I wouldn't accept it if it were offered to me," answered Dick, turning on his heel. "I'll not serve under such a fraud of a government as this has turned out to be a day longer than I can help. I'll take my discharge as soon as they will condescend to give it to me, and then they can hunt somebody to fill my place. I'll never volunteer again, and sooner than be conscripted I'll take to the woods."

"Now, sergeant, you know you wouldn't do any such thing," said the captain.

"Yes, I would," Dick insisted. "There is a principle at the bottom of this whole thing that is most contemptible; but what more could you expect of men who induced us to enlist by holding out the promise of an easy victory? 'The North won't fight!' This looks like it. We're whipped already."

These were the sentiments of thousands of men who wore gray jackets in the beginning of 1862, but it wasn't every one who dared express them as boldly as Dick Graham did, nor was it every officer who would have listened as quietly as did Captain Jones. Everything went to show that the officers had been drilled in the parts they were expected to perform long before the men dreamed that such a thing as a Conscription Act was thought of; for, as a rule, all discussion regarding the policy of the Richmond government was "choked off" with a strong hand. In some armies, Bragg's especially, the men were treated "worse than their niggers ever were." They dared not speak above a whisper for fear of being shoved into the guard-house; and "when some regiments hesitated to avail themselves of this permission (to volunteer) they were treated as seditious, and the most refractory soldiers, on the point of being shot, only saved their lives by the prompt signature of their comrades to the compact of a new enlistment." Things were not quite as bad as this in Price's army, but still Captain Jones thought it best to tell his men, especially the out-spoken Dick Graham, that they had better be a little more guarded in their language, unless they were well acquainted with those to whom they were talking. They went to Memphis, as the captain said they would, marching over a horrible road and leaving some of their artillery stuck in the mud at Desarc on White River, and from Memphis they went to Corinth forty miles farther on, packed in box cars like sheep, and on top like so much useless rubbish. Their train was rushed through at such a rate of speed that the men on top shouted to the engineer:

"Go it. Let out two or three more sections of that throttle. Run us off into the ditch and kill us if you want to. There are plenty more men where we came from."

Rodney Gray afterward declared that he had never seen a grander sight than Beauregard's camp presented when the troops from the West marched through it, greeted everywhere by the most vociferous cheering, to take their positions on the right. Their arrival brought the strength of the army up to more than a hundred thousand men, and, somewhat to their surprise, they were introduced to their new comrades as "Invincibles." At any rate that was what General Bragg called them in an address which he issued to his soldiers a few days afterward:

"The slight reverses we have met on the sea-board have worked us good as well as evil," was what he said in the vain hope of blinding his troops to the real magnitude of the disaster that had recently befallen the Confederacy. "The brave troops so long retained there have hastened to swell your numbers, while the gallant Van Dorn and invincible Price, with the ever-successful Army of the West, are now in your midst, with numbers almost equaling the Army of Shiloh."

The "slight reverses" to which the general so gingerly referred were the passage of Forts Jackson and St. Philip by Farragut's fleet, the annihilation of the Confederate gunboats and the capture of New Orleans; and these "slight reverses" were almost immediately followed by the defeat of the gunboats that had been building at Memphis, and of which the Confederates expected such great things. But the rank and file of the army were not so easily deceived. They knew well enough that the accounts that came to them through the papers were "doctored" on purpose for them, and were fully sensible of the fact that the loss of these important points, Memphis and New Orleans, were disasters most discouraging. When they were in the presence of those to whom they knew they could speak freely, they sneered at the efforts made by their superiors to belittle the Union victories, and laughed to scorn Mayor Monroe and the "city fathers" for the attitude they had seen fit to assume while Farragut's powerful fleet held the Crescent city under its guns. If the pompous little mayor, by folding his arms and standing in front of that loaded howitzer when the marines came ashore to hoist the Stars and Stripes over the Custom House, desired to show the people of New Orleans and the country at large what a brave man he was, he failed of his object, for the men who had faced cannon on the field of battle had nothing but contempt for him and his antics.

"He has made himself a laughing-stock for all time to come," was what Rodney Gray thought about it. "That was all done for effect, for there was not the slightest danger that the Yankees would fire that howitzer at him while he was going through his monkey-shines. If he is such an awful brave man, why didn't he follow that naval officer to the roof of the Custom House and jerk the Union flag down the minute it was hauled up?"

"Or why doesn't he shoulder a musket and fall in with us?" chimed in Dick. "One short campaign through Missouri mud would take some of that nonsense out of him."

There were a good many in the army who thought that the constant maneuvering and skirmishing that followed during the next few weeks were not kept up because a great battle was expected, but for the purpose of giving the men so much to do that they could not get together and talk over the discouraging news they had recently heard. There was one engagement fought, that of Farmington, which resulted in a victory for the Confederates, and taught them at the same time that they were mistaken in supposing that our troops would not venture so far into the country that they would be out of the reach of help from the gunboats, which had rendered them such important service at the battle of Pittsburg Landing. Of course Rodney and Dick marched and skirmished and fought with the rest, but they didn't care much whether they whipped or got whipped, for the feelings that took them away from home and friends and into the army, had long since given place to others of an entirely different character. They didn't care as much for State Rights and Southern independence as they did once, and if they ever got home again the Richmond government might go to smash for all they could do to save it. Two questions engrossed their minds, and formed the principal subjects of their conversation: Would they be permitted to leave the service when the year for which they enlisted expired; and if so, how was Dick Graham going to get across the river into Missouri now that Memphis had fallen, and the Mississippi as far down as Vicksburg was in possession of the Federals?

In regard to the first question—there was one thing which the boys were afraid would work against them. While nearly all the line officers of the regiment remained with them, the field officers who had come with them from the West had disappeared, some being promoted, some discharged and others being sent to the hospital, new ones had taken their places and a new staff had been appointed.

"And a lovely staff it is," said Dick, expressing the sentiments of every man in his company. "I can see now why that Conscription Act was passed. It was to make room for a lot of government pets, who are too fine to go into the ranks, but who are allowed to come here and shove out veterans when they cannot tell the difference between 'countermarch by file right' and 'right by twos.' Our new colonel doesn't know who we are or what we have done, and cares less; and when we go to him for our discharges, he will throw so much red-tape in our way that we can't get out. That's what I am afraid of."

As to the other question—how Dick Graham was to get over the river—that was something that could be settled when they had their discharges in their pockets. First and foremost Dick would go home with Rodney; and after he had taken a good long rest, and learned all about the means of communication between the two shores (they were positive there must be some regular means of communication, because Dick had received two letters from home since he had joined the Army of the Center), Rodney would take his chances of seeing him safely across the river. But their discharges must be their first care, and they came much easier than they dared hope for. One day Rodney was detailed to act as guard at brigade headquarters, and the first officer to whom he presented arms was one whose face was strangely familiar to him. It was his new brigade commander, and a wild hope sprung up in Rodney's breast. The energetic, soldier-like manner in which he handled his piece attracted the notice of the general, who seemed to be in good humor, and who unbent from his dignity long enough to remark:

"You have been well drilled, sentry."

"Yes, sir; at Barrington Military Academy," replied Rodney, with a good deal of emphasis on the last words.

This had just the effect the boy meant it should have. The general stopped and looked curiously at him, and Rodney, instead of keeping his eyes "straight to the front and striking the ground at the distance of fifteen paces," returned his superior's gaze with interest.

"Haven't I seen you before?" the latter asked at length.

"Yes, sir; aboard the steamer Mollie Able, going up the river a year ago," answered Rodney. "You were Captain Howard then."

The boy had no business to say all this, and no one in the army knew it better than he did. It was his place to wait and be questioned; but he couldn't do it. There was too much at stake—his discharge and Dick's. The general did riot appear to notice this breach of military etiquette. On the contrary he smiled and said, pleasantly:

"I remember you perfectly. You were on your way to join Price, and your presence here proves that you found him. When you are relieved I want to see you."

"Very good, sir," replied Rodney, bringing his piece to a shoulder and resuming his walk. "If that man's word is worth anything," he added, mentally, when the general disappeared in his tent, "Dick Graham and I will be free men when our year and three months are up, and you just say that much to your folks and tell 'em it's confidential. He as good as said that he would do something for me if he could, and now I will try him on; but there's one thing I'll not promise to do: I won't re-enlist until I get a good ready, and if I can help myself, that time will never come."

Rodney walked his beat as if he were treading on air, and wished his friend Dick would happen along about the time he was relieved, so that he might tell him that he believed he had found a powerful friend in their new brigade commander. At the end of two hours, having been relieved from post and obtained the necessary permission from the officer of the guard, Rodney presented himself at the door of General Howard's tent, and sent his name in by the orderly.



CHAPTER XVIII.

CONCLUSION.

General Howard did not look or act like a man who was very badly overworked, nor did he seem to be at all anxious over the result of the heavy firing that was going on on the left of the line. He had pulled off his coat and riding boots, and when the orderly entered to tell him that Private Rodney Gray of the —th Missouri Cavalry had come there to see him by his orders, he was tilling his pipe preparatory to indulging in a smoke. He greeted Rodney pleasantly, and pointed with the stem of his pipe to an empty cracker box.

"Turn that up and sit down," said he; whereupon the orderly opened his eyes in wonder. There was a much wider gulf between the officers and privates in the rebel army than there was in our own, especially after the war had been going on for about a year. The sons of rich men, who had shouldered a musket at the beginning, began working their way out of the ranks, leaving behind them only those who were too poor or too low in the social scale to command the influence that was necessary to bring them a commission. As a rule rich people in the South did not think much of poor white trash. The latter were good enough to fight and obey orders, but scarcely good enough to be treated with civility; so when General Howard told his visitor to turn up the cracker box and sit down on it, the orderly straightway made up his mind that Rodney Gray was a little better than the common run of folks, even if he was a private soldier.

"I don't suppose you have thought of me once since I bid you good-by at that woodcutters' camp," said the general, throwing himself upon a rude couch and propping his head up with his hand. "But I have often thought of you, and a few months ago I was down Mooreville way on a scout. I passed right by your father's plantation, and finding out who he was, and being a trifle hungry besides, I dropped in and invited myself to dinner with him and your mother."

Rodney was delighted to hear this, but all he said was that he hoped the general had enjoyed his visit.

"I assure you I did, and the dinner too," was the smiling reply. "And during the hour I passed there I learned a good deal concerning your life in Missouri, and heard some portions of your letters read. Your parents were much surprised to know that I met you on your way up the river, and I renewed to them the promise I believe I made you on the steamer that if I could ever do you a fatherly kindness I would. I am glad to see you in my brigade, but I don't quite understand how it comes that you are still a private. Haven't you done your duty, or wouldn't your officers push you?"

"The fault is my own, sir," answered Rodney. "I might have gone higher but I didn't care to."

Then he went on to tell the general about Dick Graham. The latter was a Barrington boy too, he said, and they had made it up between them that it wouldn't be worth while for them to accept promotion, for they had only a year to serve, and besides they did not want to run the risk of being separated.

"Oh, as to that, you mustn't expect to stick together all the time," replied the general. "The exigencies of the service will not admit of it; you know that yourself. Still I will try to do something for your friend too, if I find upon inquiry of your regimental and company officers that he is worthy. I lost four of my staff at the battle of Farmington, and, if you like, will order you and Sergeant Graham to present yourselves for examination."

Rodney fairly gasped for breath, and wished that the general had not taken quite so deep an interest in him. The crisis was coming now, and he nerved himself for it.

"I am very much obliged, general," he faltered. "But my time will be up in about two weeks, and I should like to go home and see my folks."'

Rodney expected that his superior would be surprised to hear this, and his actions showed that he certainly was, and a little angry, as well. He arose to a sitting posture on the couch, and jammed the tobacco down in his pipe with a spiteful motion as he said, rather curtly:

"You must give up all such nonsense. I am not going to deplete my brigade, at this most critical time, by letting everybody go home who takes a fool's notion into his head that he wants to. According to law I am obliged to discharge all one year's men when their term of service expires; but they shall never get out of my lines. I'll conscript them as fast as a provost guard can catch them."

The general settled back on his elbow again and looked at his visitor as if to inquire what he thought of the situation. Rodney thought it was dark enough, and showed what he thought by the gloomy expression that came upon his face. He gazed down at the cap he was twirling in his hands and said nothing. The general relented.

"I don't want to be hard on you, Rodney," said he, speaking in much the same tone that a kind and indulgent father might use in reproving an erring son, "but can't you see for yourself what would happen to us and our government if we should weaken our armies by discharging troops at this juncture? The enemy has a hundred and forty thousand men in our front at this minute, and more coming. Memphis is taken, New Orleans has fallen, the railroads, except those that run south of us, are in Halleck's possession, and if the enemy along the river moves quickly, the troops we have sent to fortify Vicksburg will not have time to lift a shovel full of dirt before the Mississippi clear to the Gulf will be lost to us. I tell you the situation is critical in the extreme, and if we don't look out, and fight as men never fought before, the Lincoln government will have us in the dust in less than two months. I'll not let a man of you go, and that's all there is about it."

The general puffed vigorously at his pipe and looked as though he meant every word he said. Was this the man who had promised on two different occasions that he would lend Rodney a helping hand if the opportunity was ever presented? Discouraged and perplexed as he was, the boy could still think clearly enough to draw a contrast between this arbitrary action of a so-called government, which claimed to be fighting for the rights of its people, to do as they pleased and the course pursued by the Union General Lyon at the battle of Wilson's Creek. Rodney learned through some prisoners his regiment captured (and history to-day confirms the story) that Lyon had seven thousand men when he reached Springfield; two thousand short-term men demanded their release and got it; and the Union commander went on and fought the battle with five thousand. Perhaps the old government was not quite so bad after all.

"But you see, sir," said Rodney, after a moment's reflection, "my comrade and I do not come under the terms of the Conscription Act. We are not yet eighteen years of age."

The surprised look that came over the general's face showed very plainly that that was a point that had slipped his mind entirely. The boy had him there, and he hardly knew whether to laugh or get angry over it.

"And do you intend to take advantage of that provision of the Act?" he inquired.

"We'd like to, sir," was all Rodney thought it prudent to say in reply. His superior was nettled, and the boy wanted to leave him in good humor and get out of his presence as soon as possible.

"That settles it," said the general, getting upon his feet and knocking the ashes from his pipe in a manner which seemed to say that the interview was at an end. "I'll take pains to see your colonel, but I do hope there are not many in my command whose ages are under eighteen or over thirty-five. However, I may be able to infuse a little patriotism into them, and shall have something to say about it in a general order."

"I thank you, sir, for the assurance," replied Rodney.

He made his best salute and retired, but during the rest of the day he was not as jubilant as he had been when he came off post; and when he went back that night to do duty at the general's tent, he took note of the fact that his commander paid no more attention to him than he would have paid to an entire stranger. Rodney felt hurt at that, and as soon as he could do so, after guard-mount the next morning, he hunted up his friend Dick and told him the whole story. He wanted sympathy and encouragement and got both.

"You did perfectly right," said Dick, emphatically. "We could have passed the examination easy enough, and in a week or two might have been galloping around camp covered with gold lace, and looking as sweet as two government pets; but we don't care half as much for staff office as we do for our discharges. You made the general mad and I am sorry for that; but after all it's natural, for the commander who discharges the smallest number of men will stand highest in the good graces of his superiors. See? So long as he keeps his troops in the service, it doesn't make a particle of difference whether he keeps them in by promises or threats. He's a bully fellow, and the despots at Richmond will reward him."

Some of the sergeant's words were confirmed that very afternoon, and in a most startling manner. For days it had been whispered about among the men that there was trouble brewing in General Bragg's corps, and on this particular day it was brought to a head by the mutiny of a Tennessee regiment, who stacked arms and refused to do duty. The twelve months for which they volunteered had expired and they wanted to go home. Before entering the service they made provision for their families for just one year, and since that time their State had been over-ran with raiding parties from both armies, their crops had been destroyed, their stock killed, their buildings given to the flames, and their wives and children turned out into the weather. They wanted to see these helpless ones taken to places of security, and then they would return to a man, and stand by their comrades until the last Yankee invader had been driven into the Ohio river. But Bragg said they shouldn't go, and fixed things so they couldn't. He did just what Beauregard did when Hindman's Arkansas troops prepared to return to their State to repel the "invasion" of General Curtis. He told them that if they didn't pick up those guns in less than five minutes he would have the last one of them shot, and they picked them up; but in an hour's time it was whispered through the ramp that all the service old Daddy Bragg would get out of those Tennesseans wouldn't amount to much. We shall presently see how much truth there was in the report.

A few days after this the order of which General Howard had spoken was issued, and read to those regiments in the brigade whose term of service was about to expire. They were informed that they would now come under the Conscript Act, and that every man of them who was subject to service under that Act would be summarily conscripted unless he chose to re-enlist. The regiments to whom the order was addressed had all performed gallant service and gained imperishable honors, and the general hoped they would preserve both their name and organization by volunteering in a body to serve for two years, or until the end of the war. If they did, they would have the privilege of electing their own officers, and would be placed on the same footing as the other volunteer regiments; and those of their number who, by reason of age, were not subject to conscription, would serve until the 15th of July, when they would be discharged.

The order concluded with a fierce denunciation of General Butler's rule in New Orleans and a glowing appeal to their patriotism, all of which the men cheered lustily; but when the ranks were broken and the different "cliques" got together, they did not try to keep up any show of spirit. So far as Rodney Gray could learn, there was not a man in his regiment who would have volunteered if he had seen a fair chance to desert and get across the river. Desertion was a thing that had never been talked of before among Price's men. As volunteers, they would have died rather than think of such a cowardly way of getting out of the army, but it was different now. Even, if they re-enlisted under the provisions of the Conscript Act, how much better would they be than conscripts while bearing the name of volunteers? They would be forced into the army against their will, wouldn't they and wouldn't that make them conscripts? They appeared to submit because they could not help themselves; but desertions took place every day. Some got safely off, but those who were caught in the act were shot without any trial at all. The men were sullen, talked mutiny among themselves, and Rodney Gray looked for nothing else but to see them rise in a body, kill their tyrannical officers, and disperse to their homes. It was a terrible state of affairs, the nearest approach to anarchy there ever was or ever will be in this country, and during those troublous days and the subsequent retreat to Tupelo, General Halleck received into his lines no less than fifteen thousand deserters.

The farce of electing new officers and reorganizing the various companies and regiments in the brigade took place in due time, and once more Dick Graham found himself in the ranks. He was not a candidate for any office and neither was Rodney, although they might have had commissions if they had chosen to accept them. They did not so much as hint that they had been offered something better than the company or regiment could give them—a position on the general's staff—for they did not think it would be policy to do it. There were plenty of mean men in their regiment, as there were in every one in the service, and since they could not get discharges themselves, they would have been glad if they could have kept Rodney and Dick from getting them; and if they had suspected that Rodney had a friend in the general of the brigade, they would have reported him every chance they got, no matter whether he had done anything wrong or not. After this the two friends waited with as much patience as they could for the time to come around when they would be free once more.

During this time almost constant fighting had been going on somewhere along the line, and although Rodney and Dick could not see the use of it, those in authority could, for they were quietly making preparations to withdraw from a place which was no longer of use to them. On the 26th, 27th, and 28th of the month, the fighting was very severe, and Rodney's regiment, which was at the front, was badly cut up. Although Dick Graham was now a private he was called upon at times to do duty as a sergeant, and on the afternoon of the 28th, he was sent with a small squad, one of whom was Rodney Gray, to take charge of an advanced post. It was much nearer our lines than were the trenches in which the regiment was fighting, but it was also much safer, for the shells from both sides went high over their heads. Here they remained in perfect security, talking, laughing and telling stories while the roar of battle was going on all around them, and waiting for their relief, which was to come at six o'clock. It did not come, however, until after nine, and by that time it had grown so dark that it was only after infinite trouble and bother that they succeeded in finding their way back to the main line, only to learn after they arrived there, that their regiment had been withdrawn three hours before, and nobody could tell where it was now. Dick Graham didn't care much where it was, for he had no intention of going to it that night. It was more than three miles to camp, and Dick saw, when he passed that way three days before, that the road was blocked with wagons, artillery trains and stable-lines, and to these obstructions were now added sleeping men, who would not be over civil to any one who chanced to stumble against them in the dark. So Dick drew his squad off into the woods out of the way and went into camp; that is to say, he ate the little piece of hard tack he found in his haversack, washed it down with a drink of warm water from his canteen, rolled himself up in his blanket and went to sleep.

"There goes reveille," exclaimed Rodney, hitting him a poke in the ribs the next morning about daylight. "But it's in the enemy's camp, and I don't think we'll pay much attention to it. I am going to sleep again."

"Say," said one of the men, "I reckon we'd best be toddling along, for if I didn't hear wagons and troops moving all night, I dreamed it. Let's get up and go as far as the diggings any way, and get a bite to eat."

The "diggings" referred to was a pile of hard-tack which, when Rodney first saw it, was almost as long and high as the railroad depot. There were several thousand boxes in the pile, and there they had been beside the road, exposed to all sorts of weather, ever since they arrived in Corinth. Why they were not served out to the men instead of lying there to waste no one knew or cared to ask; but every squad that passed that way made it a point to stop long enough to break open a few boxes and fill their haversacks. Toward these "diggings" Dick and his men bent their steps, and before they were fairly out of the woods in which they had slept, they became aware that they had been deserted. There was not a man in sight, and the guns which looked threateningly at them over the top of the nearest redoubt, they found on inspection to be logs of wood.

"Beauregard's whole army has fallen back, and done it so silently that they never awoke us," said Dick. "Let us hurry on and get into our lines before some of the enemy's cavalry come along and gobble us up. What do you see, Rodney?"

"I am afraid we are gobbled already," was the answer, "I saw some men dodging about in the woods over there. If they are not the enemy's pickets they must be our rear guard, and as we can't get away we had better go over and make ourselves square with them."

This proposition met with the approval of his comrades, but it did not seem to suit the men in the woods, for Dick's squad had not gone many steps in their direction when some one called out:

"By the right flank, march!" and the command was emphasized by the sudden appearance of half a dozen muskets which were pointed straight at them.

"Who are you, and what are you doing there?" demanded Dick.

"Who are you, and what do you want of us?" asked one of the men in reply. "Are you from Tennessee?"

"No; Missouri."

"By the right flank, then, and toddle right along. You want no truck with us; but if you meet old Daddy Bragg tell him to come and see us. We've got something for him."

"All right," answered Dick, as he and his squad faced to the right and marched away. "Good-by, and good luck to you. I don't think old Bragg will come out," he added, when the men had been left out of hearing. "They'd shoot him as quick as they would any other varmint. There must be two or three hundred in that party, and they straggled out of the ranks last night in the dark. They'll stay there until the enemy's advance passes, and then they'll come out and give themselves up. Slick scheme, but I'd die before I would do it myself."

The squad halted at the "diggings" long enough to fill their haversacks, and then kept on after the army, marching with a quick step and keeping a good look-out for the Federal cavalry, which they knew would be sent out to pick up stragglers as soon as Beauregard's retreat became known to Halleck. They were in no hurry to overtake their comrades, for they were doing very well by themselves, and neither did they want to be picked up and treated as deserters by their own rear guard. But if there was any rear guard they never saw it, although they ran into another body of Tennesseans, more than a thousand of them this time, who told them that the army gone on toward Tupelo, thirty-five miles from Corinth. No one seemed to know why Corinth had been abandoned, and it turned out afterward that the Richmond government disapproved of it, for the command was taken from Beauregard and given to Bragg, the man whom all his soldiers feared and hated, and who, a few months later, said to the people of Kentucky, "I am here with an army which numbers not less than sixty thousand men. I bring you the olive-branch which you refuse at your peril." But proclamations and threats did not take Kentucky out of the Union.

It took the boys five days to cover the thirty-five miles that lay between Corinth and Tupelo, and they were by no means the last of the stragglers to come in. The men who had been left behind, and who had no intention of deserting, were nevertheless bound to enjoy their liberty while they had the chance, and some of them did not arrive for two weeks.

In process of time the descriptive list and discharges of those who came under the exemption clause of the Conscription Act were made out, but there was so much red tape to be gone through with before all the provisions of the Act could be carried out, that the two friends were in a fever of suspense for fear that something might happen at the last minute to blast their hopes. Their officers did not want to let them go, and the slightest hitch in the proceedings would have made conscripts of them. But in their case everything worked smoothly, and finally all they had to do was to go to the paymaster and get their Confederate scrip. Being provided with passes which would take them as far as the lines of the Confederacy extended, they took leave of their friends, not without a feeling of regret it must be confessed, and boarded the cars for Camp Pinckney, which was located a hundred miles from New Orleans. After they left the camp their passes would be of no use to them, for it was said that the country between there and Mooreville, forty miles east of Baton Rouge, was over-run with Federal cavalry. They reached the camp without any mishap, ran the guard in order to get out of it (but that was not a difficult thing to do, for nearly all the soldiers in camp were conscripts who had not had time to learn their business), and before they had gone ten miles on their way toward Mooreville, came plump upon a small squad of Union cavalry, who covered them with their carbines and told them to "come in out of the rain." It was hard to be "gobbled up" within two days' walk of home, but the boys put a bold face on the matter. The corporal and his three men seemed to be a jolly, good-natured lot, and the ex-Confederates knew they would be sure of kind treatment as long as they remained in their hands.

"You've got us easy enough," said Dick. "Now what are you going to do with us?"

"Take you down to Baton Rouge and put you where you'll not have a chance to shoot any more Yanks," replied the corporal. "Where's your regiment?"

"We don't know; and not wishing to give you a short answer, we don't care. We never shot any Yanks, and neither do we mean to go where they are again if we can help it. We've got our discharges in our pockets."

"Seeing is believing. Hand 'em out."

The boys complied, and as they did so Rodney remarked that if they had known that the corporal was as white a man as they had found him, they wouldn't have "come in out of the rain" so readily. They would have taken to their heels and trusted to his forbearance.

"I am glad you didn't try it," replied the corporal, reading the discharges one after the other and passing them over to his men. "A gray-back streaking it through the bushes would be a mighty tempting target, even to fellows like ourselves who don't shoot only when we have to. Have you got enough of the service?"

"More than we want," answered Dick.

"Well, you can't be forced into the army until you are of the right age, and in the meantime I don't suppose you will do us any great damage. What do you say, boys?"

"I say let 'em go home and see their mammies," replied one of the squad; and the others nodding assent, the corporal jerked his thumb over his shoulder and told them to "git."

"It is no more than we expected of you, but we thank you all the same," said Rodney, gratefully. "I live down this way, three miles from Mooreville, and if you ever come along our road, drop in and we'll treat you right. The mouse did the lion a favor once, and who knows but that a boy who is not old enough to be conscripted, may be able to do something for one of Uncle Sam's men?"

"Good for you, Johnny. You're no reb. Any up this way?"

"None nearer than Camp Pinckney. If there are we did not see them."

With hearts full of thankfulness the boys resumed their journey, and on the afternoon of the second day following, came within sight of Rodney's home. It set his eyes to streaming, and gave such elasticity to his step that Dick could scarcely keep pace with him. As he led his friend up the wide front steps he recalled to mind the parting that had taken place there more than fifteen months before, and the confident words he had uttered about "driving the Yankees out of Missouri." He and his friends had been driven out instead, and there was no hope that Missouri would ever belong to the Confederacy.

"Alabama—here we rest," exclaimed Rodney, pushing Dick into an easy chair in the parlor, which they found to be unoccupied. "Stay there till I find somebody."

"I don't look fit," began Dick, glancing down at his dusty uniform; but just then a door opened, a lady came in, and the words "Mother!" and "Oh, my son, my son!" told Dick that "somebody" had found Rodney.

If ever a boy appreciated home and its comforts it was Rodney Gray, no longer a wild, unreasoning partisan, but sober and thoughtful beyond his years. Here we will leave him until the time comes for us to tell how Dick Graham got across the river, and take up the history of the adventures and exploits of our Union hero, Marcy Gray, whom we left in his home in North Carolina. Marcy's "Secret Enemies" and his determination to be "True to his Colors" brought him into difficulty more than once; and what those difficulties were, and how he came through them, shall be told in the third volume of this series, which will be entitled "MARCY, THE BLOCKADE-RUNNER."



THE END.



THE

FAMOUS

CASTLEMON

BOOKS.

BY

HARRY

CASTLEMON.



No author of the present day has become a greater favorite with boys than "Harry Castlemon;" every book by him is sure to meet with hearty reception by young readers generally. His naturalness and vivacity lead his readers from page to page with breathless interest, and when one volume is finished the fascinated reader, like Oliver Twist, asks "for more."

** Any volume sold separately.

——

GUNBOAT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $7 50

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Frank in the Woods . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

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Frank on a Gunboat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Frank before Vicksburg . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Frank on the Lower Mississippi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

GO AHEAD SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 75

Go Ahead; or, The Fisher Boy's Motto . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

No Moss; or, The Career of a Rolling Stone . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Tom Newcombe; or, The Boy of Bad Habits. . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $3 75

Frank at Don Carlos' Rancho. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Frank among the Rancheros. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Frank in the Mountains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

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The Sportsman's Club in the Saddle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Sportsman's Club Afloat. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Sportsman's Club among the Trappers. . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

FRANK NELSON SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols. 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $3 75

Snowed Up; or, The Sportsman's Club in the Mts . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Frank Nelson in the Forecastle; or, The Sportsman's Club among the Whalers 1 25

The Boy Traders; or, The Sportsman's Club among the Boers. . . . 1 25

BOY TRAPPER SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $3 75

The Buried Treasure; or, Old Jordan's "Haunt". . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Boy Trapper; or, How Dave Filled the Order . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Mail Carrier . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

ROUGHING IT SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $3 75

George in Camp; or, Life on the Plains . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

George at the Wheel; or, Life in a Pilot House. . . . . . . . . . 1 25

George at the Fort; or, Life Among the Soldiers. . . . . . . . . 1 25

ROD AND GUN SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $3 75

Don Gordon's Shooting Box. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Rod and Gun. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Young Wild Fowlers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

FOREST AND STREAM SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $3 75

Joe Wayring at Home; or, Story of a Fly Rod. . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Snagged and Sunk; or, The Adventures of a Canvas Canoe . . . . . 1 25

Steel Horse; or, The Rambles of a Bicycle. . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

"WAR SERIES. By Harry Castlemon. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $5 00

True to his Colors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Rodney, the Partisan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Marcy, the Blockade Runner . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Marcy, the Refugee . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

OUR FELLOWS; or, Skirmishes with the Swamp Dragoons. By Harry Castlemon. 16mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25



ALGER'S

RENOWNED

BOOKS.

BY

HORATIO

ALGER, JR.



Horatio Alger, Jr., has attained distinction as one of the most popular writers of books for boys, and the following list comprises all of his best books.

Any volume sold separately.

——

RAGGED DICK SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $7 50

Ragged Dick; or, Street Life in New York . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Fame and Fortune; or, The Progress of Richard Hunter . . . . . . 1 25

Mark, the Match Boy; or, Richard Hunter's Ward . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Rough and Ready; or, Life among the New York Newsboys. . . . . . 1 25

Ben, the Luggage Boy; or, Among the Wharves. . . . . . . . . . .. 1 25

Rufus and Rose; or, the Fortunes of Rough and Ready. . . . . . . 1 25

TATTERED TOM SERIES. (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00

Tattered Tom; or, The Story of a Street Arab . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Paul, the Peddler; or, The Adventures of a Young Street Merchant 1 25

Phil, the Fiddler; or, The Young Street Musician . . . . . . . . 1 25

Slow and Sure; or, From the Sidewalk to the Shop . . . . . . . . 1 25

TATTERED TOM SERIES. (SECOND SERIES.) 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $5 00

Julius; or the Street Boy Out West . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Young Outlaw; or, Adrift in the World. . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Sam's Chance and How He Improved it. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Telegraph Boy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. (FIRST SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00

Luck and Pluck; or John Oakley's Inheritance . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Sink or Swim; or, Harry Raymond's Resolve. . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Strong and Steady; or, Paddle Your Own Canoe . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Strive and Succeed; or, The Progress of Walter Conrad. . . . . . 1 25

LUCK AND PLUCK SERIES. (SECOND SERIES.) By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box $5 00

Try and Trust; or, The Story of a Bound Boy. . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Bound to Rise; or Harry Walton's Motto . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Risen from the Ranks; or, Harry Walton's Success . . . . . . . . 1 25

Herbert Carter's Legacy; or, The Inventor's Son. . . . . . . . . 1 25

CAMPAIGN SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 75

Prank's Campaign; or, The Farm and the Camp. . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Paul Prescott's Charge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Charlie Codman's Cruise. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

BRAVE AND BOLD SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $5 00

Brave and Bold; or, The Story of a Factory Boy . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Jack's Ward; or, The Boy Guardian. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Shifting for Himself; or, Gilbert Greyson's Fortunes . . . . . . 1 25

Wait and Hope; or, Ben Bradford's Motto. . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

PACIFIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols. 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $5 00

The Young Adventurer; or, Tom's Trip Across the Plains . . . . . 1 25

The Young Miner; or, Tom Nelson in California. . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Young Explorer; or, Among the Sierras. . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Ben's Nugget; or, A Boy's Search for Fortune. A Story of the Pacific Coast 1 25

ATLANTIC SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $5 00

The Young Circus Rider; or, The Mystery of Robert Rudd . . . . . 1 25

Do and Dare; or, A Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune . . . . . . . . 1 25

Hector's Inheritance; or, Boys of Smith Institute . . . . . . . 1 25

Helping Himself; or, Grant Thornton's Ambition . . . . . . . . . 1 25

WAY TO SUCCESS SERIES. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $5 00

Bob Burton . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Store Boy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Luke Walton. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Struggling Upward. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

——

NEW BOOK BY ALGER.

DIGGING FOR GOLD. By Horatio Alger, Jr.

Illustrated 12mo. Cloth, black, red and gold . . . . . . . . . . 1 25



A

New Series

of Books.

Indian Life

and

Character

Founded on

Historical

Facts.



By Edward S. Ellis.

Any volume sold separately.

——

BOY PIONEER SERIES. By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $3 75

Ned in the Block House; or, Life on the Frontier . . . . . . . . 1 25

Ned in the Woods. A Tale of the Early Days in the West . . . . . 1 25

Ned on the River . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

DEERFOOT SERIES. By Edward S. Ellis. In box containing the following. 3 vols,, 12mo. Illustrated . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 75

Hunters of the Ozark . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Camp in the Mountains. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

The Last War Trail . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

LOG CABIN SERIES. By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols.. 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 75

Lost Trail . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . $1 25

Camp-Fire and Wigwam . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Footprints in the Forest . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

WYOMING SERIES. By Edward S. Ellis. 3 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $3 75

Wyoming. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Storm Mountain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Cabin in the Clearing. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

——

NEW BOOKS BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

Through Forest and Fire. 12mo. Cloth . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

On the Trail of the Moose. 12mo. Cloth . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

By C. A. Stephens.

——

Rare books for boys bright, breezy, wholesome and instructive; full of adventure and incident, and information upon natural history. They blend instruction with amusement contain much useful and valuable information upon the habits of animals, and plenty of adventure, fun and jollity.

CAMPING OUT SERIES. By C. A. Stephens. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . . . . . . . $7 50

Camping Out. As recorded by "Kit". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Left on Labrador; or The Cruise of the Schooner Yacht "Curfew." As recorded by "Wash" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Off to the Geysers; or, The Young Yachters in Iceland. As recorded by "Wade". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

Lynx Hunting. From Notes by the author of "Camping Out". . . . . 1 25

Fox Hunting. As recorded by "Raed" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 25

On the Amazon; or, The Cruise of the "Rambler." As recorded by "Wash" 1 25

——

By J. T. Trowbridge.

——

These stories will rank among the best of Mr. Trowbridge's books for the young and he has written some of the best of our juvenile literature.

JACK HAZARD SERIES. By J. T. Trowbridge. 6 vols., 12mo. Fully Illustrated. Cloth, extra, printed in colors. In box . . . . . . $7 50

THE END