Title: The Lost Army
Author: Knox, Thomas W.
Language: English
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THE LOST ARMY

By Thomas W. Knox

Illustrated

The Werner Company

New York

1899

THE LOST ARMY.



CHAPTER I. HARRY AND JACK--OUTBREAK OF THE WAR--TRYING TO ENLIST.


|Let’s go and enlist!”

“Perhaps they won’t take us,” was the reply.

“Well, there ‘s nothing like trying,” responded the first speaker.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“That’s so,” said the other. “And if we can’t go for soldiers, perhaps
they ‘ll find us useful about the camp for something else.”

This conversation took place between two boys of Dubuque, Iowa, one
pleasant morning early in the year 1861. They were Jack Wilson and
Harry Fulton, neither of whom had yet seen his sixteenth birthday. They
were the sons of industrious and respectable parents, whose houses stood
not far apart on one of the humbler streets of that ambitious city; they
had known each other for ten years or more, had gone to school together,
played together, and at the time of which we are writing they were
working side by side in the same shop.

The war for the destruction of the Union on the one hand and its
preservation on the other had just begun. The election of Abraham
Lincoln to the presidency had alarmed the Southern states, who regarded
it as a menace to their beloved system of negro slavery. In consequence
of his election the Southern leaders endeavored to withdraw their
states from the Union, and one after another had passed ordinances of
secession. South Carolina was the first to secede, her action being
taken on the twentieth of December, five weeks after the presidential
election. Ten other states followed her example and united with South
Carolina in forming the Confederate States of North America, choosing
Jefferson Davis as their first president. Then followed the demand for
the surrender of the forts and other property of the United States in
the region in rebellion. Fort Sumter was taken after a bloodless fight,
in which the first gun was fired by the South; other states seceded, and
then came the uprising of the North in defense of the Union.

As if by the wand of a magician the whole North was transformed into a
vast military camp, where only a few days before nothing was to be seen
save the arts and arms of peace and industry. Recruiting offices were
opened in every city and almost in every village. Squads were formed
into companies, companies into regiments and regiments into brigades,
with a celerity that betokened ill for the cause of secession. The
North had been taunted over and over again that it was more intent upon
moneymaking than anything else, and nothing could provoke it into
a fight. It had been patient and long-suffering, but the point of
exasperation had been reached, and the men of the Northern states were
now about to show of what stuff they were made.

The president issued a call for seventy-five thousand men to serve for
three months, and the call was responded to with alacrity. And it was in
the recruiting that formed a part of this response that our story opens.

Jack and Harry went to the recruiting office, which was on one of the
principal streets of Dubuque and easy to find. Over the doorway an
immense flag--the flag of the nation--was waving in the morning breeze,
and in front of the door was an excited group of men discussing the
prospects for the future, and particularly the chances of war.

“It ‘ll be over in a month,” said one, “and we ‘ll all be back here at
home before our enlistment time’s up.”

“Yes; the South’ll be cleaned out in no time,” said another. “Those
fellows are good on the brag, but when they look into the muzzles of
Northern muskets they ‘ll turn tail and run.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” said a third. “The South may be wrong in all
this business, but they ‘ll give us all the fighting we want.”

“You’d better go and fight for Jeff Davis,” was the retort which
followed. “We don’t want any fellows like you around us.”

“That we don’t, you bet,” said another, and the sentiment was echoed by
fully half the listeners.

“You ‘re all wrong,” persisted the man who had just spoken. “Don’t
misunderstand me; I’m just as good a Union man as anybody, and I’m going
to fight for the Union, but I don’t want anybody to go off half-cocked,
and think we’re going to lick the South out of its boots in no time;
because we can’t do it. We ‘re going to win in this fight; we ‘re twenty
millions and they ‘re eight, and we’ve got most of the manufacturing and
the men who know how to work with their hands. But the Southerners are
Americans like ourselves, and can fight just as well as we can. They
think they ‘re right, and thinking so makes a heap of difference when
you go in for war. They ‘ll do their level best, just as we shall.”

“Perhaps they will,” was the reply, “but we ‘ll make short work of ‘em.”

“All right,” responded the other, “we won’t lose our tempers over it;
but anybody who thinks the war will be over in three months doesn’t
appreciate American fighting ability, no matter on which side of the
line it is found.”

This mode of putting the argument silenced some of his opponents,
particularly when he followed it up by showing how the Southern
regiments in the Mexican war covered themselves with glory side by side
with the Northern ones. But the loudest of the talkers refused to be
silenced, and continued to taunt him with being a sympathizer with the
rebellion.

At the outbreak of the war a great deal of this kind of talk was to be
heard on both sides; men in the North declaring that the South would be
conquered and the war ended in three months, while people at the South
boasted of the ability of one Southern man to whip three Northerners.
When the armies fairly met in the field and steel clashed against
steel all this boasting on both sides was silenced, and North and South
learned to respect each other for their soldierly qualities. One of the
greatest of military mistakes is to hold your enemy in contempt, and to
this mistake is due some of the disasters of the early days of the war.

And the lesson may be carried further. One of the greatest mistakes
in the battle of life is to underrate those who oppose you or the
hindrances that lie in your path. Always regard your opponent as fully
your equal in everything, and then use your best endeavors to overcome
him. Do your best at all times, and you have more than an even chance of
success in the long run.

Jack and Harry listened a few moments to the debate among the men in
front of the recruiting office, and then made their way inside. A man in
the uniform of a captain was sitting behind a desk taking the names of
those that wanted to enlist, and telling them to wait their turn for
examination. In a few moments a man came out from an inner room, and
then a name was called and its owner went inside.

“Don’t think you ‘ll get in there, sonny,” said a man, who observed the
puzzled look of Jack as he glanced toward the inner door.

“What are they doing in there?” queried Jack encouraged by the friendly
way in which he had been addressed.

“They ‘re putting the recruits through their paces,” was the reply;
“examining ‘em to see whether they ‘ll do for service.”

“How do they do it?”

“They strip a man down to his bare skin,” was the reply, “and then they
thump him and measure him, to see if his lungs are sound; weigh him
and take his height, make him jump, try his eyes, look at his teeth; in
fact, they put him through very much as you’ve seen a horse handled by
a dealer who wanted to buy him. They’ve refused a lot of men here that
quite likely they ‘ll be glad to take a few months from now.”

And so it was. The first call for troops was responded to by far more
men than were wanted to fill the quota, and the recruiting officers
could afford to be very particular in their selections. Subsequent calls
for troops were for three years’ service, and, as the number under arms
increased, recruiting became a matter of greater difficulty. Men that
were refused at the first call were gladly accepted in later ones.
Before the end of the first year of the war more than six hundred and
sixty-one thousand men were under arms in the North.

Jack and Harry walked up to the desk where the officer sat as soon as
they saw he was unoccupied.

“Well, my boys, what can I do for you?” said the captain cheerily.

Jack waited a moment for Harry to speak, and finding he did not do so,
broke the ice himself with--

“We want to enlist, General.”

The youth was unfamiliar with the insignia of rank, and thought he would
be on the safe side by applying the highest title he knew of. The gilded
buttons and shoulder-straps dazzled his eyes, and it is no wonder that
he thought a man with so much ornamentation was deserving of the highest
title.

“Captain, if you please,” said the officer, smiling; “but I’m afraid you
‘re too young for us. How old are you?”

“Coming sixteen,” both answered in a breath.

The captain shook his head as he answered that they were altogether too
young.

“Could n’t we do something else?” queried Harry, eagerly. “We can drive
horses and work about the camp.”

“If you ever go for a soldier,” replied the captain, “you ‘ll find that
the men do their own camp work, and don’t have servants. Perhaps we can
give you a chance at the teams. Here, take this to the quartermaster,”
 and he scribbled a memorandum, suggesting that the boys might be handy
to have about camp and around the horses. They could n’t be enlisted, of
course, but he liked their looks, and thought they could afford to feed
the youths, anyhow.

The boys eagerly hastened to the quartermaster, whom they had some
difficulty in finding. He questioned them closely, and finally said they
might go with the regiment when it moved. It was not then ready for the
field, and he advised the boys to stay at home until the organization
was complete and the regiment received orders to march to the seat of
war.

The parental permission was obtained with comparatively little
difficulty, as the fathers of both the youths were firm believers in
the theory of a short war, without any fighting of consequence; they
thought the outing would be a pleasant affair of two or three months
at farthest. Had they foreseen the result of the call to arms, and
especially the perils and privations which were to befall Jack and
Harry, it is probable that our heroes would have been obliged to run
away in order to carry out their intention of going to the field. And
possibly their ardor would have been dampened a little, and they might
have thought twice before marching away as they did when the regiment
was ordered to the front and the scene of active work in the field.



CHAPTER II. ST. LOUIS AND CAMP JACKSON.


|While Jack and Harry are waiting impatiently for the order that will
give them a taste of military life, we will leave them for a while and
go down the Mississippi river to the great city of St. Louis.

The state of Missouri was one of those known as the “Border States,” as
it lay on the border between North and South. It was the most northerly
of the slavehold-ing states west of the Mississippi river, and the
system of slavery did not have a strong hold upon her people. Probably
the majority of her native-born citizens were in favor of slavery, or
only passively opposed to it, but it contained two hundred thousand
residents of German birth, and these almost to a man were on the side
of freedom. When the question of secession was submitted to the popular
vote, the state, by a majority of eighty-thousand votes, refused
to secede; but the governor and nearly all the rest of the state
authorities were on the side of secession, and determined to take
Missouri out of the Union in spite of the will of the people.

Governor Jackson was in full sympathy with the secession movement,
and with the reins of power in his hands he made the most of his
opportunities. General Sterling Price, who commanded the Missouri
state militia, was equally on the side of slavery and its offspring,
secession, though at first he opposed the movement for taking the state
out of the Union, and was far more moderate in his councils than was the
governor and others of the state officials. Earnestly opposed to these
men were Francis P. Blair, junior, and other unconditional Union men,
most of whom lived in St. Louis, and had for years been fighting the
battle of freedom on behalf of the state. They believed and constantly
argued that Missouri would be far better off as a free state than a
slave one, while the opponents of slavery in the Eastern and extreme
Northern states had based their arguments mainly on the ground of
justice to the black man. The Free-State men of Missouri gave the
rights of the negro a secondary place and sometimes no place at all, but
confined themselves to showing that the state would be better off
and more prosperous under freedom than under slavery. They had a good
knowledge of human nature, similar to that displayed by the author of
the old maxim that “Honesty is the best policy.”

“Be honest,” he would say, “because it is the best policy to be so, and
let the question of right or wrong take care of itself.”

All through the month of April, 1861, the plotting to take Missouri out
of the Union was carried on by the secession party, and at the same
time there was counterplotting on the part of the Union men. The
secessionists, having the aid and sympathy of the state authorities,
had the advantages on their side, and were not slow to use them. They
organized forces under the name of minute men, and had them constantly
drilling and learning the duties of soldiers. Later, under an order
issued by the Governor, they formed a camp of instruction, under
command of General D. M. Frost, in the suburbs of St. Louis, with the
openly-declared intention of capturing the United States arsenal, which
stood on the bank of the river just below the city.

At the same time the Union men were equally active, and, under the
leadership of Blair, those who were ready to fight for the preservation
of the nation were organized into a military force called the “Home
Guards.” While the plotting was going on and matters were progressing
toward actual warfare, Captain Nathaniel Lyon, who commanded at
the arsenal, caused the garrison to be strengthened, sent away the
superfluous arms and ammunition to a place of greater safety, armed
the Home Guards, and on the tenth of May surprised the secessionists
by marching out in force and capturing Camp Jackson, the camp of
instruction already mentioned.

In order to have good reason for making the capture, Captain Lyon
visited Camp Jackson in disguise and went through it from one end to the
other. What he found in the camp gave him sufficient reason for action.
Here it is:

When the state of Louisiana seceded from the Union the United States
arsenal at Baton Rouge was seized by the state authorities, who took
forcible possession of the arms and munitions of war that they found
there. When he was planning to capture the arsenal at St. Louis,
Governor Jackson found that he needed some artillery with which to open
fire from the hills that command the arsenal, which is on low ground on
the bank of the river.

Governor Jackson sent two officers to the Confederate capital, which was
then at Montgomery, Alabama, to make an appeal to Jefferson Davis for
artillery from the lot taken at Baton Rouge, and explain for what it was
wanted. President Davis granted the request, ordered the commandant at
Baton Rouge to deliver the artillery and ammunition as desired, and he
wrote at the same time to Governor Jackson as follows:

* * * After learning as well as I could from the gentlemen accredited to
me what was most needed for the attack on the arsenal, I have directed
that Captains Greene and Duke should be furnished with two 12-pound
howitzers and two 32-pound guns, with the proper ammunition for each.
These, from the commanding hills, will be effective against the garrison
and to break the inclosing walls of the place. I concur with you in the
great importance of capturing the arsenal and securing its supplies.
* * * We look anxiously and hopefully for the day when the star of Missouri
shall be added to the constellation of the Confederate States of
America.

With the best wishes I am, very respectfully, yours,

Jefferson Davis.

The cannon and ammunition reached St. Louis on the eighth of May, and
were immediately sent to Camp Jackson. The negotiations for them had
been known to Blair and Lyon, and as soon as they learned of the arrival
of the material which would be so useful in capturing the arsenal, they
determined to act. Captain Lyon, as before stated, went in disguise
through the camp on the ninth, saw with his own eyes the cannon and
ammunition, learned that they had come from Baton Rouge, and was told
for what purpose they were intended.

Here was the stolen property of the United States in the hands of the
enemies of the government, and intended to be used for further thefts by
violence. There could be no doubt of his duty in the matter, except in
the mind of a secessionist or his sympathizer.

By the secessionists the capture of Camp Jackson was looked upon as
a great outrage, for which the Union men had no authority under the
Constitution and laws either of the United States or of the state of
Missouri. It was a peculiar circumstance of the opening months of
the rebellion, and in fact all through it, that the rebels and their
sympathizers were constantly invoking the Constitution of the United
States wherever it could be brought to bear against the supporters of
the government; so much was this the case that in time it came to be
almost a certainty that any man who prated about the Constitution was
on the side of the rebellion. The men who were ready to violate it were
those who constantly sought to shield themselves behind it.

As an illustration of this state of affairs, may be cited the letter
of Governor Jackson in reply to the proclamation of President Lincoln
calling for seventy-five thousand troops for three months, “to maintain
the honor, the integrity and the existence of our National Union, and
the perpetuity of popular government; * * * and to repossess the forts,
places, and property which have been seized from the Union.”

[Illustration: 025]

Missouri was called upon for four regiments of militia as her quota of
the seventy-five thousand. Governor Jackson replied to the president
that he considered the requisition “illegal, unconstitutional and
revolutionary in its objects, inhuman and diabolical, and cannot be
complied with.” At the same time he was going on with preparations
for carrying the state out of the Union, contrary to the desires of a
majority of its inhabitants, as if they had no rights that he was bound
to respect!

As before stated, the arsenal at St. Louis is completely dominated by
the range of hills beyond it, and a military force having possession of
these hills would have the arsenal in its control. The secession leaders
laid their plans to take possession of these hills in order to capture
the arsenal. Learning of their intentions, Captain Lyon threw up a line
of defensive works in the streets outside the walls of the arsenal,
whereupon the secessionists invoked the local laws and endeavored to
convince him that he had no right to do anything of the kind. The board
of police commissioners ordered him to keep his men inside the walls
of the arsenal, but he refused to do so, and for this he was loudly
denounced as a violator of the law.

There were about seven hundred men in Camp Jackson, under command of
General Frost. Captain Lyon had issued arms to several regiments of
the Home Guards of St. Louis, in spite of the protest of the police
commissioners, who considered his action in doing so highly improper.
These regiments, added to the regular soldiers composing the garrison
at the arsenal, gave Captain Lyon a force of six or seven thousand men,
with which he marched out on Friday, the tenth of May, surrounded Camp
Jackson, and demanded its surrender. Under the circumstances General
Frost could do nothing else than surrender, which he did at once. The
militia stacked their arms and were marched out on their way to the
arsenal. A short distance from the camp they were halted for some time,
and during the halt a large crowd of people collected, nearly all of
them being friends of the prisoners or sympathizers with secession.

Most of the Home Guards were Germans, and during the halt they were
reviled with all the epithets with which the tongues of the secession
sympathizers were familiar. These epithets comprised all the profanity
and vulgarity known to the English language in its vilest aspects, and
added to them was the opprobrious name of “Dutch blackguards,” which
was applied in consequence of one of the companies calling itself _Die
Schwartze Garde_. Without orders, some of the soldiers fired on the
jeering mob; the fire passed along the line until several companies had
emptied their rifles, and twenty-eight people fell, killed or mortally
wounded, among them being three prisoners. Then the firing ceased as
suddenly as it began, and the prisoners were marched to the arsenal.

On the eleventh all the captured men were liberated on their parole
not to bear arms against the United States. One officer, Captain Emmett
McDonald, refused to accept release on this condition, and like a true
secessionist sought his remedy through the Constitution and the laws
of the country. It took a long time to secure it, but eventually he was
liberated on a technicality, went South and joined the Southern cause,
and was killed in battle not long afterward.

“What has all this to do with Jack and Harry?” the impatient reader
asks. We shall very soon find out.



CHAPTER III. SECESSION IDEAS OF NEUTRALITY.


|For some days it was rumored in Dubuque that the Iowa troops would soon
be ordered to march into the neighboring state of Missouri.

There was great excitement when, on the morning of the eleventh of
May, the particulars of occurrences of the day before in St. Louis were
published. Jack read about it in the morning paper and then hurried to
Harry’s house as fast as his young feet could carry him.

“This means business,” said Jack, as he quickly narrated to Harry what
he had read.

“So it does,” was the response; “we ‘ll surely be off before many days.
Let’s go to camp.”

Away they went, and found, as they expected, that everybody expected to
move to the front very shortly.

“We are pretty nearly ready for orders,” said the quartermaster, “and
you’d better come here twice a day, if not oftener, to make sure
that you don’t get left. Watch the newspapers and see what happens in
Missouri for the next few days, as it will have a good deal to do with
our movements.”

The boys did as they were directed, and, what was more, they went to a
tailor and bought suits resembling those worn by the soldiers. They were
not entitled to receive uniforms from the quartermaster, as they had not
been enlisted or regularly employed, and, therefore, their outfits were
paid for out of their own pockets. But the clothes they wanted were not
costly, and therefore their outfits did not cost them much.

There was more news of importance the next day, and if the excitement
was great in Dubuque, it was nothing to that in St. Louis.

According to the histories of the time, it occurred in this wise:

A regiment of the Home Guards was marching from the arsenal to its
barracks, which lay at the other side of the city, and while on its way
it encountered a dense multitude which blocked the street. The crowd
being almost wholly composed of secessionists, many of whom were armed
with pistols, a pistol-shot was fired at the soldiers, whereupon the
latter opened fire, killing eight men and wounding several others. Then
the regiment continued to its barracks and was not further molested.

A rumor went around among the secessionists that the Germans had
threatened to kill everybody who did not agree with them, and a general
massacre was seriously feared. The police commissioners and the mayor
asked to have the Home Guards sent away from the city, and though
General Harney, the commander of the department, promised to comply with
their request, he was soon convinced by Blair and Lyon that it could
not be done without giving the city into the hands of the secessionists.
Then came a rumor that the Home Guards had refused to obey the orders of
General Harney, and were about to begin the destruction of the city and
the murder of its inhabitants.

A panic followed, and on the twelfth and thirteenth of May thousands
of women and children were sent out of the city; the ferry-boats were
crowded to their utmost capacity, and extra steamboats were pressed into
service to convey the people to places of safety. Quiet was not restored
until two companies of regular soldiers were brought into the city and
General Harney had issued a proclamation in which he pledged his faith
as a soldier to preserve order and protect all unoffending citizens.
This brought back nearly all the fugitives, but there were some who
never returned, as they feared the terrible “Dutch blackguards” would
revolt against their officers and deluge the streets of St. Louis with
blood.

Jack and Harry read with great interest the account of these happenings
in the neighboring state, and wondered how they would all end. They also
read the editorial comments of the newspapers, but could not understand
all they found there.

So they strolled down to camp and questioned one of the soldiers, an
intelligent printer from one of the newspaper offices.

“One thing we want to know,” said Jack, “is what is meant by
‘states-rights’?”

“That ‘s what the South is going to war about,” was the reply; “or at
any rate that is the pretext of the leaders, though I’ve no doubt it is
honestly believed by the great mass of the southern people.”

“What is it, anyway?”

“Well, it is the idea that the general government of the United States
has no power to coerce or control a state against the latter’s will.”

“Does that mean,” said Harry, “that if a state wants to go out of the
Union she has a perfect right to do so, and there’s no power or right in
the general government to stop her?”

“Yes, that’s what it means,” was the reply. “The states-rights argument
is that the states that were dissatisfied with the election of President
Lincoln had a perfect right to secede or step out of the Union, and the
Union had no right to force them to stay in or come back.”

“Thank you,” said Harry; “I think I understand it now. And how is it
with the border states, like Missouri, and the state sovereignty they
‘re talking about?”

“The states-rights men in Missouri claim that the national government
has no right or authority to call for troops from Missouri to aid in
putting down rebellion in the seceded states; that Governor Jackson did
right in refusing such troops when the president called for them; that
the national government has no right to enlist troops in Missouri to
take part in the war, and that it must not be permitted to march its
troops into or across or through any part of the state in order to reach
the states in rebellion against the national authority.”

“In other words,” said one of the boys, “they want the state of Missouri
to be entirely neutral in the war--to take no part in it either way?”

“That ‘s what they say,” replied the printer, with a smile.

“But look here,” exclaimed Harry; “have n’t I read that the
secessionists in Missouri seized the United States arsenal at Liberty,
in the western part of the state, and took possession of all the cannon,
small-arms and ammunition they found there?”

“Yes.”

“And have n’t I read about how they planned to capture the St. Louis
arsenal, and Jeff Davis sent them some artillery and ammunition for that
purpose, and wrote them a letter saying exactly what the cannon were
to be used for, and how they were to be placed on the hills behind the
arsenal in order to batter down the walls?”

“Yes, you read that, and it’s all true.”

“That ‘s what they call neutrality, is it? Do they claim that they
have a perfect right to do anything they please toward destroying the
government, but the government does wrong when it lifts a finger for its
own protection?”

“That’s exactly what they claim and have said over and over again in
their newspapers and through the voices of their speakers, and every
secessionist you talk with says the same thing.”

“Well,” exclaimed Harry, after a slight pause, “I don’t think much of
such neutrality as that. It’s as one-sided as the handle of a jug--a
sort of ‘heads I win, tails you lose,’ business. You could respect them
and believe them sincere if they said ‘hands off from us, and we will keep
hands off from you,’ and then lived up to what they said.”

Jack agreed with Harry, and both of them wondered till they were tired
and even then could not make it out how honest and fair-minded men as
many of the southern sympathizers undoubtedly were, could call such
action as that by the name of neutrality. Doubtless some of the young
people who read this story will wonder too, and possibly they may doubt
that such was the case. Their doubts will be dispelled when they consult
any of their friends who are familiar with the history of the war of the
rebellion.

The events of the tenth and eleventh of May greatly aided Governor
Jackson in his efforts to carry the state of Missouri into the war on
the side of the South. The legislature met on the second of May, and the
governor recommended that the state should be placed in a condition of
defense, so that she could resist invasion by the national forces. While
it was discussing the subject and making slow progress the tenth of May
came, and with it the Camp Jackson affair. In less than fifteen minutes
after the news was received both houses of the legislature had passed
the so-called military bill providing for arming the state, and it was
ready to be signed by the governor and become a law.

Five days later the legislature adjourned, after passing other acts
throwing the state on the side of secession, appropriating two million
dollars for military purposes, in addition to the school fund and all
other money belonging to the state. The greatest alarm prevailed, as
the wildest stories were circulated about the bloodthirstiness of the
Germans, who composed the greater part of the Home Guards organized for
the defense of St. Louis. On a rumor that two regiments of them were
approach-the capital a railway bridge over the Gasconade River was
partially destroyed, and many people fled from the city.

The president of the United States removed General Harney from the
command of the department, and appointed Lyon, who had been promoted to
brigadier-general of volunteers in his stead. Troops in Kansas, Iowa and
Illinois were ordered to be ready to move into Missouri, and everything
indicated that the government was determined to put a stop to the
so-called neutrality of the state. The neutrality was well illustrated
by the circumstances that in all parts of the state the Union men were
the victims of outrages at the hands of their secessionist neighbors.

For no other offense than being in favor of the Union and opposed to
Secession men were dragged from their beds at night and ordered to leave
the neighborhood within twenty-four hours, their houses and barns
were burned, their cattle and horses stolen, work in the fields was
suspended, and everything was the reverse of peaceful. By an agreement
between General Harney on the Union side and General Price on behalf
of the state authorities, the operations of the military bill had been
suspended, and the volunteers which it called together were to be sent
to their homes. But instead of going there they were gathered into
companies and battalions in convenient places, where they were drilled
and instructed in the duties of soldiers. Evidently the neutrality that
the Missouri rebels wanted was as one-sided as we have already described
it.



CHAPTER IV. ON THE ROAD TO GLORY.


|The regiment to which our young friends were attached--the First
Iowa--received orders to move southward. Everything was bustle and
activity in the camp, and the boys made themselves useful in a variety
of ways.

As before stated, they were to accompany the wagon-train, and at once
proceeded to make friends with everybody connected with that branch of
the regiment’s service; and they were not only friendly with the men,
but with the horses. Some of the animals showed a tendency to be unruly,
but by gentle ways and words Jack and Harry secured their confidence,
and it was often remarked that the brutes would do more for the boys
than for anybody else. One of the teamsters asked Jack how it was, and
said he would give a good deal to know their secret of horse-training.

“There’s no secret about it,” replied Jack; “at least, none that I know
of. My father is very fond of horses, and has often told me that he
always treats them kindly, but at the same time firmly. If he sets
out to have a horse do anything he makes him do it; if the creature is
stubborn he coaxes him and pets him, and keeps on urging him to do what
he wants, and after a while the horse does it. When he has once begun he
never lets up, and the animal soon knows that the man is master, and at
the same time learns that he isn’t to be cruelly punished, very often
for not understanding what is wanted.”

To show what he could do in the way of equestrian training, Jack took
charge of a “balky” horse that frequently stopped short in his tracks
and refused to move on in spite of a sound thrashing. All efforts to get
him to go ahead were of no use, and altogether the beast (whose name was
Billy) was the cause of a great deal of bad language on the part of the
teamsters, which even the presence of the chaplain could not restrain.

Jack harnessed Billy into a cart, and after asking those about him to
make no interference, and not even to come near him, he started to mount
a small hill at the edge of the camp. Before he had ascended ten feet of
the sloping road Billy halted, and showed by his position and the roll
of his eye that he intended to stay where he was.

Jack dismounted and took the animal by the head; he tugged gently at the
bridle three or four times, speaking gently and kindly all the while,
but to no purpose. Billy was “set” in his determination, and did not
propose to oblige anybody.

“All right,” said Jack; “if you want to stop here I ‘ll stay too.” And
with that he pulled out a dime novel and sat down by the roadside close
to Billy’s head.

Jack opened his book and began to read, while Billy looked on and
meditated. Half an hour passed and then an hour. At the end of that time
Jack made another effort to start the horse up the hill, but with the
same result as before.

Then he read another hour and then another, stopping once in a while to
try and coax the animal to move on. By this time it was noon, and Jack
called to Harry to bring him something to eat. Harry came with a slice
of cold meat and a piece of bread, and immediately went away, leaving
Jack to devour his lunch in silence, which he did. When the meal was
concluded he read another chapter or two, and then he took Billy once
more by the bridle and in the same gentle tones urged him to proceed.

Evidently the horse had thought the matter over, as he showed a perfect
willingness to do as his young master desired. Without the least
hesitation he went straight up the hill, and when they were at the top
Jack petted and praised him, and after a while took him back to camp.
The lesson was repeated again in the afternoon and on the following day,
and from that time on Billy was a model of obedience as long as he was
kindly treated.

“I believe a horse has to think things over just as we do,” said Jack;
“and if you watch him you ‘ll find out that he can’t think fast. What I
wanted Avas to have him understand that he had got to stay there all day
and all night if necessary, until he did what I wanted him to do. When
he saw me reading that book and sitting so quiet by the roadside, and
particularly when he saw me eat my dinner and sit down to wait just as
I had waited before, he made up his mind that’t was n’t any use to hold
out. Horses have good memories. Hereafter when he ‘s inclined to be
balky he ‘ll think of that long wait and give in without any fuss.”

The regiment went by steamboat down the Mississippi river to the
frontier of Missouri, and there waited orders to advance into the
interior of the would-be neutral state, and while it waited there was a
rapid progress of events in St. Louis, to which we will now turn.

General Lyon had positive information that the rebels were preparing
to bring troops from Arkansas and the Indian Territory to assist the
Missouri state guard in keeping out the “Dutch and Yankees.” Of course
this was quite in keeping with the neutrality about which they had so
much to say, and if allowed to go on it was very evident that the whole
of the interior of the state might soon be in their control. Accordingly
he asked for further authority to enlist troops in the state, and
requested that the governors of the neighboring states should be
directed to furnish him with several regiments that were in readiness.
His request was granted, and within less than a month from the capture
of Camp Jackson General Lyon had a military force aggregating ten
thousand men in St. Louis, and as many more in Kansas, Iowa and Illinois
waiting orders to move wherever he wanted them to go.

Besides these troops there were several thousands of Home Guards in
different parts of the state; many of these men were Germans, who had
seen military service in the old country, and were excellent material
for an army. Opposed to them the governor had a few thousand state
troops, many of them poorly armed, but they greatly made up in activity
what they lacked in numbers or equipment, so far as keeping the country
in a perpetual turmoil was concerned.

It was very evident that the state troops could not hold out against
General Lyon’s disciplined army, and consequently the governor made
ready to abandon Jefferson City, the capital, whenever General Lyon
moved against it. All the state property that could be moved was sent
away, and the governor and other officials prepared to follow whenever
hostilities began.

Through the efforts of several gentlemen who still hoped for a peaceful
solution of the troubles of Missouri, a conference was held at St. Louis
on the eleventh of June between Governor Jackson and General Price on
behalf of the state authorities, and General Lyon and Colonel Blair on
the other. General Lyon had guaranteed that if Jackson and Price would
come to St. Louis for the purposes of the conference they should have
“safe conduct” both ways and not be molested while in the city.

The meeting was a historic one. General Lyon, on being notified of the
arrival of Jackson and Price in the city, asked them to meet him at
the United States arsenal. The wily governor did not consider himself
altogether safe in venturing there, in spite of the safe-conduct that
he held, and suggested that the conference must be held at the Planters’
House, a well-known hotel of St. Louis, and at that time the principal
one. Accordingly the general went there with Colonel Blair, and after a
few polite phrases the negotiations began. Present, but not taking part
in the debate, were Major Conant, of General Lyon’s staff, and Colonel
Snead, the private secretary of Governor Jackson.

Four or five hours were consumed in the discussion, which was an
animated one throughout. The governor demanded that the United States
troops should be withdrawn from the state, and that no recruiting for
the union cause should be permitted anywhere in Missouri. ‘When the
troops were withdrawn he would disband the state militia, and thus the
state would be kept entirely neutral. General Lyon insisted that the
government had the right to send its troops where it pleased within the
boundaries of the United States, and he would listen to nothing else.
No progress was made by either side, as neither would yield a point.
Finally General Lyon brought the conference to an end by telling
Governor Jackson it was useless to talk longer, and that in one hour an
officer would call to escort them out of the city.

Lyon and Blair went at once to the arsenal to give orders for the
movement of troops, and within an hour from the end of the conference
Jackson and Price were on their way to Jefferson City as fast as the
railway train could carry them. On the way they ordered the bridges
over the Osage and Gasconade rivers to be burned, in order to prevent
pursuit.

Early the next morning the governor issued a proclamation calling the
people of the state to arms, for the purpose, as he said, of repelling
invasion and protecting the lives and property of the citizens of the
state. He also asked the Confederate government to send a co-operating
force into Missouri as soon as possible, and gave orders for General
Price to take the field at once with all the troops he could muster.

General Lyon ordered three regiments with two batteries of artillery,
under General Sweeney, to occupy the southwestern part of the state, and
by the thirteenth they were on their way to Springfield by way of Rolla,
which was then the terminus of the railroad in that direction. The
object of this movement was to stop the advance of any Confederate
force coming from Arkansas to help the Missourians, and also to head off
Jackson and Price in case they marched in that direction. At the same
time General Lyon, with two regiments of infantry and a battery of
artillery, together with about five hundred regular infantry, went
up the Missouri river to Jefferson City, which they captured on the
fifteenth without opposition, the rebels having left on the day that
General Lyon started from St. Louis.

At the same time that he gave orders for the movements from St. Louis,
General Lyon telegraphed to the commander of the Iowa regiment to which
Jack and Harry were attached, to advance into Missouri in the direction
of Booneville, a flourishing town on the south bank of the Missouri, and
the spot selected by General Price as the rallying point of the state
troops. There was a considerable amount of war material stored there
belonging to the state, and by orders of the governor an arsenal had
been started at Booneville for the manufacture of cannon and small-arms.
Most of the inhabitants sympathized with the secession movement, which
was not the case with the population of Jefferson City, largely composed
of Germans.

Jack and Harry fairly danced with delight when they found they were to
march into the enemy’s country. They regretted that their duties kept
them with the wagon-train, which is not usually supposed to take part
in battle, and wondered if there was not some way by which they could
change places with two of the soldiers and have a share in the fighting.
During their first night on the soil of Missouri they lost a fair amount
of blood; it was drawn not by the bullets or the sabers of the enemy,
but by the mosquitos with which that region is abundantly supplied. Jack
thought he had spilled at least a pint of gore in feeding the Missouri
mosquitos, and wondered if he could be fairly charged with treason or
giving “aid and comfort to the enemy.”



CHAPTER V. ON THE MARCH--CAPTURING A REBEL FLAG.


|It was a new life for Jack and Harry, and they greatly enjoyed it.
Both declared that they slept more comfortably on the ground than they
had formerly slept in bed, and as for the distance accomplished in a
day’s march it was nothing to them. They cheerfully gave up their places
in the wagons to some of the footsore soldiers, and trudged along behind
the vehicles as merry as larks.

There was very little danger to be apprehended on the march, although
they were technically in the enemy’s country. In the part of Missouri
north of the river of the same name, there were a few straggling bands
of state troops under the command of General John B. Clark, but nothing
like a disciplined force that could offer resistance to a well-equipped
regiment like the First Iowa. Whenever the regiment approached a town
or village, most of the secessionists fled in dismay, after spreading
terrible stories of the atrocities that the invaders would be sure
to commit as soon as they arrived. Those that remained were no doubt
greatly surprised at the good order that prevailed and the perfect
respect shown to private property. Everything required for the use of
the soldiers was fully paid for, and instead of bewailing the visit of
the invaders, many of the citizens, even those whose sympathies were
not with the Union, hoped they would come again. Later in the war things
changed a good deal in this respect, as we shall see further on in our
story.

One town through which the regiment passed, and where it halted for
one day and a part of another to wait orders for further movements, was
reputed to be one of the worst nests of secession in that part of the
state.

There was a hotel in the town, and its owner had recently, so Jack
learned from a boy of about his age with whom he established friendly
relations, given it the name of the Davis House, in honor of the
President of the Southern Confederacy. Jack informed the soldiers of
this discovery, and an examination of the front of the building showed
that the former name of the hotel had been painted out to make a place
for the new one.

Immediately a pot of white paint and one of black were procured, a rough
staging was erected, the word “Davis” was painted out, and “Union” took
its place. The proprietor protested, but his protest was of no use. He
was told that the Union House would be much more popular than the Davis
House could be by any possibility, and when they came around again
they expected to find the new name retained. The proprietor said his
neighbors would burn the building over his head if he allowed it to
remain as it was, and as soon as the regiment had gone he set about
changing the obnoxious appellation. But he showed some worldly wisdom
in giving it a new name altogether instead of restoring what might have
brought him into trouble with future visitors of the kind he had just
had. He avoided both “Davis” and “Union,” and called the establishment
the “Missouri Hotel,” a name at which neither side could take offense.

The boy who told Jack about the hotel also informed him where a rebel
flag was concealed. It had been made by several young women whose
sympathies were with the southern cause, and was intended for
presentation to the captain of a company which would soon leave the
county to fight on the southern side.

Jack hastened to Captain Herron, one of the officers of the regiment,
and told what he had heard. The captain sent a detail of soldiers,
under the guidance of Jack, who led the way to the house of one of the
principal inhabitants of the place.

The sergeant in command of the squad of soldiers rapped at the door,
which was opened by a servant. He asked for the lady of the house, and
very soon a comely matron of forty or more stood before him.

“We beg your pardon for disturbing you,” said the sergeant; “but we want
a rebel flag that we are told has been made here recently.”

“You shan’t come into my house,” was the angry reply; “and we’ve no flag
for you Yankees.”

She was about to close the door in the sergeant’s face, but the latter
stopped her from so doing by stepping forward and holding it open. Then
he ordered his men to follow him, which they did, accompanied by Jack.

“Be kind enough to show us through the house,” said the sergeant; “we
don’t want to trouble you, but we must have that flag.”

“If you are after a flag you won’t find any,” she answered; “and as for
showing a lot of Yankees through the house, I won’t.”

The sergeant ordered one man to stay at the front door and another at
the rear, “and permit nobody to leave the house.” Then he called the
servant, a negro woman, who had opened the door, and ordered her to show
the way through the rooms. Accustomed to obedience, the woman did as
she was told, her mistress being so overcome with rage that she did not
endeavor to exercise her authority over the servant.

Jack had told the sergeant that the flag was hidden between the
sheets of a bed in the first sleeping-room at the head of the stairs;
consequently that was the room which the sergeant intimated he would
like to see first.

The room was found and so was the bed, but no flag. The bed showed signs
of very recent disturbance, as though something had been withdrawn from
it. Evidently the flag had been taken away during the parley at the
door. The room was searched in every part, but no sign of the flag was
found; then other rooms were examined, but with the same result.

The soldiers went through the entire house, the sergeant giving them
strict orders to search everywhere, but at the same time to injure
nothing. Just as they were about to give up the enterprise as a bad job,
a brilliant thought occurred to Jack.

He mounted the stairs again and went straight to the bed which had first
been the object of their examination. Pulling down the bed-clothes,
which had been left in a disordered condition after the investigation
of the soldiers, he found the desired flag and bore it in triumph to the
sergeant.

[Illustration: 043]

Then the sergeant withdrew his men, after again apologizing to the
mistress of the house, who was so angry that she could not, or would
not, speak. On the way back to camp the sergeant asked Jack how it was
he knew the flag was where he found it.

“I sort o’ guessed it,” replied Jack. “I noticed that the woman and her
two daughters did n’t stay with us while we were rummaging the house,
but kept going in and out of the rooms, leaving the servant to show us
around.

“I thought they were up to something, especially as one of the daughters
did n’t show up at all while we were talking at the door before we went
in.

“Now, I figured out that while we were talking with the old gal the
young one we did n’t see was taking the flag out of the bed and hiding
it somewhere else. When they saw us at the door they knew what we’d come
for, and probably guessed we ‘d been told where the flag was.

“Well, after we’d looked through that bed and all the room without
finding anything, we went on to the next room. They knew we ‘d hunt high
and low for the flag, and go through every part of the house. Now, if
you’d a-been in their place what would you have done, when you knew you
could n’t get out of the house without being seen?”

“I see it now,” said the sergeant, “though I did n’t before. I’d have
watched my chance by going round through the halls, and put the flag in
one of the places that had been searched, and there would n’t have been
any better place than the bed where we first went for it.”

“That’s just what I thought,” said Jack in reply; “and when I saw the
old gal give a wink to the young one and the young one winked back
again, it just occurred to me to go to the bed and have another look.”

“You’d make a good detective,” said the sergeant approvingly, and then
the conversation turned to the flag they had captured and the probable
use that would be made of it.

“That’s for the captain to say,” replied the sergeant in reply to Jack’s
query.

The sergeant turned the flag over to the captain and the latter duly
admired it and praised Jack for his acuteness. The secession emblem
was a fine one, being made of the best bunting procurable in St. Louis,
whence the material was specially ordered. It was the regular secession
flag, the “Stars and Bars,” and was intended to be displayed on the
battlefield, where the rebels confidently hoped to put the defenders of
the Union to flight at the first fire. Along the center of the flag
the following couplet had been deftly embroidered by the fingers of the
young ladies by whom the banner was made, and the lines were said
to have been the composition of the maiden who so signally failed in
concealing the precious standard from the search of the invaders:

     “Federals from thee shall flee,
     Gallant sons of Liberty!”

Jack suggested that they should have added the following quotation from
Robert Burns, as a suitable intimation of thee possibilities in the
case:

     “The best laid schemes o’ mice and men
     Gang aft a-glev”



CHAPTER VI. MARCHING AND CAMPING IN THE RAIN--FIRST SHOTS AT THE ENEMY.


|When the march across Missouri began the weather was fine, and our
young friends, as before stated, were delighted with campaigning life;
but the fair weather did n’t last.

When they were on the road again, after the affair of the rebel flag,
they found a change of situation. A storm arose, and they had the
disagreeable experience of marching and camping in the rain. Old
soldiers think nothing of rain, though of course they prefer fine
weather, but for new campaigners the first rain-storm is a serious
affair. So it was with Jack and Harry.

They had provided themselves with waterproof coats, which protected
their shoulders, in fact, kept them fairly dry above the knees, but
could not prevent the mud from forming on the ground nor protect the
feet of the boys as they marched along. It was a weary tramp through the
mud, and any one who has traveled in Missouri knows that the mud there
is of a very sticky quality; in fact, in most of the western states the
soil has a consistency that is unknown in many parts of the east. When
dry it is hard, and forms an excellent road, though it is apt to give
off a good deal of dust in specially dry and windy times. When there is
much traveling over a road, and no rain falls for some time, the dust is
a great deal more than perceptible.

But it is in the wet season that the soil of the west puts in its fine
work. The mud has the stickiness of glue with the solidity of putty.
Each time the foot goes down it picks up a small quantity, very small
it may be; but as continual dropping will wear away stone, so will
continual stepping convert the foot into a shapeless mass of mud.
Five or ten pounds of mud may thus be gathered upon each foot of a
pedestrian, and it does not require a vivid imagination to increase the
five pounds to fifty. Horses “ball up” in the same way, and there are
many localities where, under certain conditions of weather, this balling
up is so rapid, and withal so dangerous, as to make travel next to
impossible.

The regiment went into camp that night pretty well tired out, and it is
safe to say that some of the soldiers wished themselves home again. But
if they did so wish they kept their thoughts to themselves, and each one
pretended to his comrades that it was just what he liked.

To pitch tents on wet ground is the reverse of agreeable, and to lie
down on the ground and try to sleep there is worse than the mere work
of putting a tent in place. But both of these things must be done,
except where there is no tent to pitch and one must sleep without any
shelter other than the sky. When our armies took the field in the early
part of the war there was a good supply of tents, so that the soldiers
were well protected against the weather; but this condition of affairs
did not last long. In the early days there was an allowance of two
wagons to a company, or twenty wagons to a regiment, without counting
the wagons of the field officers and staff. Later on the wagon allowance
was greatly reduced, and during the closing campaigns of the Avar the
luxuries of the early days were practically unknown. The army with the
smallest wagon-train can make the most rapid progress, as a train is a
great hindrance in military movements.

Jack and Harry slept beneath one of the wagons, or rather they tried to
sleep, during the steady rain that continued through the night. In
the morning Jack thought Harry resembled a butterfly that had been run
through a sausage-machine, while the latter retorted that his comrade
looked as if he had been fished out of a millpond and hung up to dry.
Both were a good deal bedraggled and limp, but they would not admit it,
and each danced about as though a little more and a great deal wetter
rain was just what he wanted.

“Tell you what, Harry,” said Jack, “it was n’t being wet that bothered
me so much as getting wet. I found a reasonably dry place, and thought
I was all right, but just as I was getting asleep I felt the tiniest
little drop of water soaking through on the side I was lying on. I tried
to shrivel up so as to get away from it, but the water followed me, and
the more I shrunk the more it spread.

“Then I thought it would be better if I turned over, but in turning
I let in more water, or rather I suppose I made a hollow in the soft
ground, and that was just old pie for the water. When I turned I exposed
my neck and got a touch of it there, and so it went on; at every move I
got more and more of it. By the end of an hour or so, which seemed all
night, I was fairly wet through, and then I did n’t care half so much
about it. I went to sleep and slept pretty well till morning, and don’t
believe I’ve got a bit of a cold.”

“I had about the same sort of a time with the rain,” said Harry, “and
agree with you that the worst part of it is the feeling you have while
the rain is getting its way through your clothes and you’re trying to
keep it out; and all the time you know you can’t do it, and really might
just as well give in at once.”

“Never mind now,” said Jack; “what we want is hot coffee and something
to eat.”

They had taken the precaution to lay away some sticks of dry wood in
one of the wagons before the rain began, and therefore there was no
difficulty in starting a fire. All the wood that lay around the camp
was soaked with water, but by careful searching and by equally careful
manipulating of the sticks the soldiers and teamsters managed to get up
a creditable blaze by using their dry wood to start it with.

Hot coffee all around served to put everybody in good humor, and some
hard bread and bacon from the commissary wagons made the solid portion
of the breakfast. Harry had secured some slices of cold beef the day
before, and these, which he shared with Jack, made a meal fit for a king
when added to the regular rations that had been served out. The rain
stopped soon after sunrise, the sun came out and in a few hours
the roads were dry enough to justify the order to move on. Meantime
everybody was busy drying whatever could be dried, and by noon the
discomforts of the first night in the rain had been pretty well
forgotten.

An hour or two after the column started on the road there was an alarm
from the front that threw everybody into a state of excitement. Rumors
were passed from man to man, and as they grew with each repetition, they
became very formidable by the time they reached the rear-guard. There
was a large force of the enemy blocking the way--a whole army, with
cannon enough to blow them all out of existence, and possibly to take
the offensive and march straight to the capital of Iowa.

Every soldier got his rifle in readiness, the wagons were driven closely
up, the rear-guard prepared to meet an assault that might possibly come
in their direction, and there was all the “pomp, pride and circumstance
of glorious war” with the hand of untried warriors, few of whom had ever
smelt gunpowder in a warlike way.

The excitement grew to fever heat when some shots were heard, and
evidently indicated the beginning of the battle. Jack and Harry wanted
to rush to the front of the column and take a hand in the affair, but
they were stopped by the quartermaster, who said they would only be in
the way, and had better wait a while until the colonel sent for them. He
ended his suggestion with a peremptory order that they should not leave
the wagons without permission.

This was a disappointment, but they bore it as patiently as they could.
They were learning the lesson of military life, that the soldier
must obey his officer and each officer must obey the word of his own
superior, no matter what it may be. As a consolation to them, and
also as an illustration of what they must expect in the army, the
quartermaster told a story about a volunteer officer during the Mexican
war.

This officer had been ordered to do something that he thought highly
injudicious. General Scott was standing near, and Captain X------, as we
will call him, appealed to the general to know what he should do.

“Obey the order,” was the brief answer of the general.

“But it’s absurd,” replied the captain. “Certainly no one should obey an
order like that.”

“Always obey your superior officer,” responded the general.

“But suppose my superior officer orders me to jump out of a fourth-story
window,” interposed the captain, “must I do it?”

“Certainly,” the general answered; “your superior’s duty is to have a
feather-bed there to receive you, and you can be sure he ‘ll have it.
That’s a part of his business you have nothing to do with.”

This may sound like exaggeration to the young reader who has no
knowledge of the ways of military life, but let me assure him that it is
nothing of the kind. It is a principle of army discipline that a soldier
or officer should unhesitatingly obey the orders he receives without
asking for explanations. On the battlefield, regiments, brigades,
divisions, are sent as the commander desires for the purposes of
carrying out his combinations and plans. It can readily be seen that
all discipline would be gone and the combinations and plans could not be
carried out if each subordinate commander required an explanation of the
reason why he was dispatched in a particular direction or ordered to do
a certain thing. Now and then there is an opportunity which an officer
embraces for acting on his own hook without orders, but the experienced
officer always hesitates lest he lays himself open to censure, and
possibly court-martial and punishment, as he surely would if subsequent
events showed his action to have been injudicious or disastrous.

The battle turned out to be no battle at all--only a skirmish with some
bushwhackers, in which a dozen shots or so were exchanged and nobody
was hurt. The advance of the column had come upon a group of men, some
mounted and others on foot, near a bend in the road where a small stream
was crossed. The sight of the soldiers had disturbed the group; those
who had horses rode away as fast as they could go, while the fellows
on foot made the best of their way into the bushes, where they sought
concealment. They did not obey the order to halt, whereupon a few shots
were fired at them, which they returned.

The shots only served to quicken their pace, and in a very short time
nothing was to be seen of the fugitives. The quartermaster explained to
the youths that the term “bushwhacker” was applied to the men who were
straggling about the country with arms in their hands, and did not
appear to belong to any regularly-organized body of soldiery.

“Missouri,” said he, “is full of bushwhackers, and there ‘ll be more
of ‘em as the war goes on. They ‘re not to be feared by a
regularly-organized force, but can make the roads quite unsafe for
ordinary travel. The trouble is, a man may be a peaceful farmer one day,
a bushwhacker the next, and a peaceful farmer again on the third. The
rebels encourage this sort of fighting, as it will compel us to maintain
a large force to keep the roads open as we advance into the south.”



CHAPTER VII. FROM JEFFERSON TO BOONEVILLE--FIRST BATTLE IN MISSOURI.


|Let us now return to General Lyon, whom we left at Jefferson City,
which he had occupied without opposition. The union men gave him a
hearty welcome, while the secessionists received him with many a frown.

Major Conant, of General Lyon’s staff, visited the penitentiary, which
was full of convicts, who cheered heartily as he entered. They had hoped
to be liberated when the rebels left town, and no doubt would have been
willing to enter the service as a condition of getting outside the stone
walls that surrounded them. They had been secession in sentiment, but
finding the rebels had gone without them they suddenly changed their
politics and shouted lustily for the Union when the officer representing
the authority of the United States came among them. A few only held out
and cheered for Jeff Davis and Governor Jackson, probably for the reason
that they believed in secession, and especially in secession from where
they were. There was gloom all around when they found that General Lyon
had no intention of setting them free, and that the sole object of the
visit of Major Conant was to see that the prison was properly guarded,
and ascertain that no work on behalf of the rebels was being carried on
there.

The editor of the _Examiner_, a newspaper which had been advocating
secession in the most violent manner, called upon General Lyon, and said
he had been a union man always, and was in favor of keeping the state in
the Union, though he had thought differently only a short time before.
There were several cases of equally sudden conversion, but the general
did not consider these professions-of patriotism anything more than skin
deep. Missouri was full of men of this sort--men who were in favor of
the rebellion at heart, but in presence of the Union flag were the most
profound unionists that the country ever saw.

As soon as it was positively known that the fleeing rebels had decided
to make a stand at Booneville, which was about forty miles from
Jefferson City, General Lyon started in pursuit of them. Loading his
troops on three steamboats, with the exception of three companies of
infantry, which were left to hold possession of Jefferson City,
he started up the Missouri early on the afternoon of Sunday, June
sixteenth, and by sunset reached a point ten or twelve miles below
Booneville, where it was decided to tie up for the night. Bright and
early the next morning the steamers moved on, and were brought to the
bank of the river six or seven miles below Booneville.

The rebels had formed a camp, known as Camp Vest, about half-way between
this landing-place and the town, and as they had several cannon there,
it was not deemed advisable to move the steamboats within their
range until the infantry or artillery of the land forces had made a
demonstration.

In the gray of the morning the troops were landed, and the bank of the
river presented a scene to which it was quite unaccustomed. Officers
were hurrying about here and there; companies were endeavoring to
assemble, as they had become a good deal scattered in the hurry of
getting on shore; the artillery was dragged up the steep slope of the
bank with a vast deal of shouting on the part of the drivers, including
a liberal amount of language that is not usually found in theological
works; the saddle-horses of the officers danced around in endeavoring
to show their satisfaction at getting on land again, and some of them
escaped from the orderlies who were holding them and were retaken with
difficulty. Altogether it was a picture long to be remembered by those
who saw it.

There was no cavalry in the expedition, with the exception of General
Lyon’s body-guard of eight or ten Germans who had been specially
enlisted for this purpose. These men, previous to their enlistment, had
been employed in a butchering establishment in St. Louis. The story got
abroad that German butchers had been enlisted for the Union army, and,
as usual, it was magnified with each repetition until it seemed that
every man who wore the national uniform was a professional spiller of
blood. Out of this circumstance grew the most terrific predictions as
to what the butchers would do when they got possession of a place or
marched through any part of the state, and it was for this reason, among
others, that so many people fled in terror when they heard that the
Union army was coming. General Lyon’s butchers were as well behaved as
the most fastidious commander could desire; they were good soldiers,
obedient to their commander, and would not harm a fly except in the
performance of their legitimate duty.

Before seven o’clock in the morning the column was in motion, the
cavalry squad in advance and skirmishers thrown out for half a mile or
soon either side. Very soon after leaving the landing-place the road
ascended a series of undulating hills or ridges, and the advance had not
gone far on this road before the pickets of the enemy were driven in.
Then one of the cavalrymen rode hastily back and said that the whole
force of the state troops were drawn up on one of the ridges only a few
hundred yards away. The battle was about to begin!

The regular soldiers and the First Missouri were ordered forward, the
rest of the volunteer regiments were held in reserve, and the battery
commanded by Captain Totten took position in the middle of the road
on one of the ridges in full view of the enemy on the other side of a
wheat-field that filled the greater part of the hollow from ridge to
ridge. On the ridge held by the enemy the road was filled with horsemen,
while the men on foot were deployed to right and left, slightly
protected by fences that divided the fields.

Captain Totten unlimbered a twelve-pounder gun and sent a shell right in
the midst of the group of horsemen in the road.

To say that the shell kicked up a great dust is to describe the result
very mildly. It not only kicked up a dust but it set all the horses to
kicking up, and though it did not kill anybody, as far as was afterwards
ascertained, it emptied a dozen saddles by the rearing and plunging of
the steeds. None of them had ever seen anything of the kind before. It
takes a hardened old horse to stand an exploding shell, and even then
there’s some doubt as to whether he will be quiet under such trying
circumstances.

[Illustration: 061]

The opening shot of the artillery was rapidly followed by others, and
then the small-arms added their noise to the firing. Of course the
rebels by this time were doing their best, and the bullets flew thickly,
but as is always the case in battle, most of them were aimed too high.
Here and there a man was wounded, but as General Lyon had ordered all
who were not actually engaged to keep out of range no harm was done
outside the fighting line, and even there the bloodshed was slight.

In twenty minutes from the time the first shot was fired the rebels were
in full retreat and the unionists were following them. Not only were the
rebels in retreat, but they were scattered and a good deal demoralized.
In justice to them it should be said that no commander ever yet existed
who could keep his men completely together in time of flight under an
enemy’s fire. Of course veterans will act better than green troops, but
even the hardiest of veterans will straggle under such circumstances.

The fugitives made no stand until they reached their camp, and even
there they did not tarry long. A few rounds of bullets and some shots
from the artillery set them again in flight, which was considerably
aided by one of the steamboats that had moved up from the landing-place
and fired two or three rounds from a howitzer just as it reached a point
opposite the camp. “Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them,
cannon in front of them,” as the Light Brigade had at Balaklava, was too
much for the rebel troops to stand.

There was something ludicrous in the appearance of the camp, as it bore
evidence of a very hasty departure on the part of its late occupants.
Meat was in the frying-pans on the fire, half-baked beans filled the
camp-ovens, and pots of unboiled coffee were standing ready for the
attention of the cook. On the ground lay a ham with a slice half severed
and a knife still sticking in the meat. The camp-chest of some of the
officers was all spread for breakfast, but those who had expected to
take their morning meal there were now in rapid flight for safety.

A cooked breakfast should not be wasted, so some of our fellows thought,
and they set about devouring what the fugitives had left. Tents were
standing, piles of provisions were heaped up, a good many rifles and
other weapons were scattered on the ground, and altogether the captors
made a satisfactory seizure. One of the officers found several hundred
dollars in a trunk in one of the tents and thoughtfully put the money
in his pocket, in order, as he said, to hand it to the owner in case he
should ever meet and recognize him.



CHAPTER VIII. THE CAPTURED CAMP--A CHAPLAIN’S EXPLOIT.


|There were no horses in camp, but there were many saddles, an
indication that the camp was evacuated so hastily that there was not
time to put the accouterments on the steeds, where they belonged. The
saddles came handy to the civilian attachés of the expedition, and so
did the blankets and a good many other things that had been left behind.
A company of infantry was left in charge of the camp, and then the rest
of the column pressed on in pursuit.

Outside the town there was another brief halt, caused by the presence of
a small company of mounted men, who evidently acted as a rear-guard,
and with whom a few shots were exchanged. Some of the dignitaries
of Boone-ville came out to surrender the place and beg that private
property should be respected, and while they were parleying with General
Lyon and Colonel Blair two steamboats left the landing in front of
Booneville and steamed up the river. They carried the greater part of
the fleeing rebels, the remainder making their escape by land along the
river road.

And so ended the battle of Booneville. The losses on the Union side were
three killed and ten wounded; on the rebel side the number of casualties
was never positively known, owing to the fact that many of the state
troops fled directly to their homes and stayed there, or at all events
were not heard from again. Eight or ten were known to have been killed,
and about twenty wounded.

A year or two later an affair of this sort would have been regarded
merely as a roadside skirmish, but at that time it was an occurrence of
great moment. From one end of the country to the other the account of
it was published, and it has become known to history as an important
battle. Politically it was of great consequence, as it was the first
battle fought in Missouri, if we leave out of consideration the
incidents of Camp Jackson and the day after, which cannot be regarded
as battles in any sense. It was the first trial of strength between
the state authorities of Missouri and the national government, and as
a trial of strength it showed the power of the United States and the
resources and abilities of the government better than could have been
done by a whole volume of proclamations.

Disciplined troops were brought face to face with raw recruits who had
not received even the rudiments of military instruction. Many of them
were not even organized into companies, but had come together hastily
at the call of the governor, and on the day of the battle were trying
to fight “on their own hook.” And they learned the lesson which is
generally taught under such circumstances--that such a hook is a very
poor one to fight on.

The greenness of the men is shown by some of the incidents of the day.
Reverend William A. Pile, the chaplain of the First Missouri, was a
muscular Christian, who showed such a fondness for fighting that he
afterward went into the service and gained the rank of brigadier-general
before the war was over. At Booneville he was assigned to look after the
wounded, and for this purpose was given command of four soldiers, two of
them from the mounted escort of General Lyon, and two infantrymen from
the First Missouri.

While looking about the field after the rebels had been put to flight,
the chaplain came suddenly upon a group of men who seemed uncertain what
to do. Most of them had rifles and shotguns, and might have made it very
uncomfortable for the man of religion.

He hesitated not a moment, but drew his revolver. He was mounted on a
good horse, one of the steeds taken in the early part of the battle, and
had all the dignity of a captain of cavalry.

Ordering his two cavalrymen to accompany him, and telling the infantry
column--of two men--to follow as fast as they could, he dashed up to the
group and presented his pistol as though about to fire.

“Throw down your arms and surrender!” the chaplain commanded, in a voice
like the roaring of a young bull.

The men dropped their arms to the ground, and stood in that dazed
attitude with which a cow looks at a railway train.

“About face, march!” shouted the chaplain, anxious to get the fellows
away from their weapons before they had time to collect their senses and
make it uncomfortable for their would-be captors.

Mechanically the men obeyed, and when they were at a good distance from
the guns that had been left on the ground he halted them to give his
infantry a chance to come up and help surround the prisoners.

The infantry came up, and the prisoners, twenty-four in all, were duly
“surrounded” and marched into camp, where they were placed among others
of their late comrades-in-arms. Twenty-four armed men surrounded and
captured by four soldiers and a chaplain is an occurrence not often
known in war. The prisoners were mostly beardless youths, who had little
appreciation of what war was or is. Only the rawest of soldiers could be
captured in this way and brought safely into the lines, and it required
all the audacity of which the chaplain was capable to carry out his
enterprise.

Booneville was entered in triumph, and there was great excitement among
the inhabitants, many of whom expected to be murdered in cold blood
after witnessing the pillaging of their houses and the destruction of
everything that the “Yankee thieves” did not desire to carry away. The
poorer part of the population was generally loyal, while the wealthier
inhabitants were nearly all in favor of secession. There were some rich
people who were stanch supporters of the Union, but they had a hard time
of it among their more numerous secession neighbors.

A considerable quantity of rebel stores and arms were taken at
Booneville and in the neighborhood, and altogether the forces that were
arrayed under the secession banner suffered a heavy loss in things that
were valuable to them. The hiding-places of these valuables were pointed
out by union men, who in some instances desired their identity concealed
for fear of the vengeance that would be visited upon them after the
national troops should go away. They complained that they had been very
badly treated, and several of them had been given a certain number of
days in which to close up their affairs and leave town. Their time of
probation had not ended when the battle and its result rendered their
departure a matter which the rebels were not exactly able to control.

General Lyon issued a proclamation, in which he briefly recited the
events of the past week and warned the people not to take up arms
against the government. He advised all who had been in arms to go to
their homes, and promised that all who would do so and remain quietly
attending to their own business, should not be disturbed for past
offenses. The proclamation had a good effect, and the number recently
under arms who went home and stayed there was by no means small.
Unhappily it was more than offset by those who responded to the summons
of the governor and went to follow the fortunes of the army that he was
organizing.

Preparations were now made for an advance into the southwest part of
the state, as it was understood that the rebels would attempt to make
a stand there, where they would be assisted by the troops that the
Confederate government was sending to help in getting Missouri out of
the Union.

General Sweeney was ordered to march from Rolla to Springfield, and at
the same time General Lyon would move from Booneville toward the same
point. Simultaneously a column under Major Sturgis was to advance from
Leavenworth, Kansas, through the western part of Missouri, and the
three columns were to unite near Springfield and endeavor to cut off and
disperse the rebels that were concentrating with a view to taking the
offensive. This was the plan, but owing to the absence of railways it
could not be carried out in a hurry.

The First Iowa reached Booneville shortly after the battle, and most of
its officers and soldiers were greatly disappointed to think they could
not have had a hand in the fight.

Jack and Harry had their first view of the Missouri river from the bank
opposite Booneville, and were greatly interested in studying the mighty
stream as the ferryboat carried them across.

As he looked at the yellow flood pouring along with the rapidity which
is one of its characteristics, Jack remarked:

“I understand now why they call it ‘The Big Muddy,’ as it is certainly
the muddiest river I ever saw.”

“Yes,” replied Harry; “but I don’t believe it is as bad as Senator
Benton said of it, ‘too thick to swim in, but not thick enough to walk
on.’ Anyhow, we ‘ll settle that question by having a swim the first
chance we get.”

They had their swim, but though they verified the incorrectness of the
distinguished senator’s assertion, they decided that one must be very
dirty indeed to be benefited by a bath in the Missouri; and they readily
believed what they were told by a resident of Booneville, that in the
time of flood you can get an ounce of solid matter out of every eight
ounces of water from the river.

“Look on the map of the United States,” said their informant, “and see
how the Mississippi river has pushed the delta through which its mouths
empty into the Gulf of Mexico. The land that is formed there has been
brought down by the water that fills the channel of the river; some of
it comes from the lower Mississippi, but probably the greater part is
from the valley of the Missouri.”



CHAPTER IX. REGULARS AND VOLUNTEERS--FORAGING IN THE ENEMY’S COUNTRY.


|Jack and Harry were pretty busily employed about the camp for the first
two or three days following their arrival at Booneville. After that time
they had more leisure, and were greatly interested in many matters that
came under their observation.

One of the first things to arouse their curiosity was the camp of the
regular soldiers that formed a part of General Lyon’s expedition.
When they heard of this part of the force they wanted to know what a
“regular” soldier was.

“They are called regulars,” the quartermaster explained, “because they
belong to the regular army which the country maintains in times of
peace. Compared with the volunteer army, the regulars are few in number,
but as long as we have only Indians to contend with they are quite
enough for all practical purposes. In time of peace our regular army
includes only twenty thousand men, but in case of war the president
calls on the different states to send volunteer troops to the field in
such number as may be wanted. The president called for troops to put
down the rebellion, and the states that remained loyal to the Union have
sent the number required of them in proportion to their population.”

“That’s what is meant by the ‘quota’ of each state, I suppose,” said
Jack.

“Yes,” was the reply. “The quota of a state is made out according to its
population, and there have been some funny complications arising out
of this point. In order to have as many representatives in Congress
as possible, and for other reasons, some of the new states have been
overstating their population, or claiming more inhabitants than they
really have. Now, when it comes to furnishing troops on the same basis,
they are trying to understate their population, and declare that they
made mistakes in their previous figures.”

“It is like a man claiming to be rich in order to obtain credit or ‘show
off,’ and then pleading poverty as a reason for not paying his debts.”

“That’s exactly the case,” was the reply. “You could not have made a
better illustration.”

Neither Jack nor Harry could see that there was any great difference
between the camp of the regulars and that of the volunteers, excepting
that the former seemed to be under more rigid discipline. When it came
to drilling and performing the evolutions necessary to military life it
was evident that the regulars were greatly the superiors, but the youths
naturally concluded that it was simply a question of experience. “These
regulars,” said Jack, “have been a long while in the service, and had
nothing to do except to learn their business. Wait till the volunteers
have been the same time under arms, and they ‘ll come out just as good
soldiers.”

“Right you are,” said the quartermaster, who overheard the remark. “It
takes time and practice to make a soldier; the raw recruit may be just
as brave as the veteran, but one veteran is worth as much as a dozen
raw recruits, for the simple reason that he has been drilled and
disciplined.”

The youths talked with some of the regulars, and found that they had not
troubled themselves much about the causes of the war nor the questions
involved in the contest. The most they knew was that they were enlisted
to serve under the government. They were there to obey the orders of
their officers, and that was the whole business.

It was the same with some of the regular officers when the war broke
out, but by no means with all. Some of them treated the question of
loyalty as altogether a matter over which they had no control; they were
to support the government, and had no occasion to trouble themselves
about political questions. Others entered into the political bearings
of the subject, and were swayed according to their predilections. Those
born and reared in the Northern states adhered to the national cause
almost to a man, and served according to the best of their abilities,
while the majority of those who came from the Southern states considered
themselves bound to go as did their states. These men resigned their
commissions in the army and entered the service of the Confederacy,
though there were some who felt that while they could not fight against
their native states, it would not be compatible with honor for them
to take arms against the national government. These officers remained
neutral throughout the war, some of them staying quietly at home, while
others went abroad to be out of the reach of disturbing influences.

It was a noticeable circumstance that the spirit of loyalty to the
government was stronger among the enlisted soldiers of the regular
army than among the officers, in proportion to their numbers. In the
instances where the forts and arsenals in the Southern states were
treacherously surrendered to the secessionists at the beginning of the
war, nearly all the soldiers refused to serve against the government,
even when their officers urged them to do so.

Preparations for the march into the southwestern part of Missouri were
pushed as rapidly as possible, but the difficulty of getting together
the necessary wagons and animals for transportation purposes consumed
a fortnight of valuable time. This time was utilized by the state
authorities, who gathered several thousand men at Lexington and inarched
thence in the direction of the Arkansas frontier, where they were to
meet the famous Texan ranger, Ben McCulloch, who was to come north to
join them. In spite of all his activity General Lyon was not able to get
away from Booneville in season to head off General Price and the rebels
that were serving under him.

But the rebels came near meeting another obstacle that they did not know
of. General Sweeney, with the brigades of Generals Sigel and Saloman,
marched from Rolla in the direction of Springfield, and so quickly
did he move that Price had no knowledge of his advance. As soon as he
reached Springfield General Sweeney sent General Sigel westward in the
direction of Carthage to head off the rebels who were supposed to be
under command of Price. The fact was the latter general had already
gone south with his escort to meet Ben McCulloch; the state troops which
General Sigel was trying to cut off were consequently headed by Governor
Jackson in person.

The two forces met each other on the fifth of July not far from Carthage
and fought a battle which was very much like the one of Booneville
in the extent of its casualties, though less successful for the Union
cause. Sigel’s command was only about one-fourth the number of those
opposed to him; nearly two thousand of the rebels were mounted men,
although very few of them had any weapons whatever, a fact which was
unknown to the union commander. When he saw this great force pressing
on his flanks, he naturally supposed his column to be in danger, and
prudently gave the order to retire from the field. The retirement was
effected in good order, and though the rebels pursued a few miles they
inflicted no damage. The collision delayed the movements of the rebels
toward the southwest, though it did not prevent it, and the elation
which they felt over the repulse of the enemy was more than an offset
for the delay.

On the march from Booneville to Springfield strict orders were given
that there should be no depredating on private property, the rights of
every citizen being fully respected. The order was very well obeyed, but
it was impossible to carry it out to its fullest extent. Chickens
that did not roost high had a habit of disappearing at night and never
turning up again except in the stewpans of some of the soldiers or
possibly in those of the officers; pigs that strayed from their pens
when the army was about did not readily get back again, but on the whole
there was not much cause of remonstrance on the part of the inhabitants.

The most serious complaint was on the part of the union men, and
certainly they had a right to say something on the subject. The
situation was expressed in this way by one of them who was talking with
an officer in the presence of Jack and Harry:

“Look a-here,” said the citizen “why don’t you-’uns go and take Jones’s
corn and potatoes and anything else you want? He’s a secesher of the
worst sort, and you ought to make him sweat for it. When the state
troops went through here they took my horses and corn and wagons and
paid me with receipts that I can’t sell anywhere for five cents on the
dollar. I tried to get them to let me alone, but they said I’d been
saying I was a union man, and if I was I’d got to help support the war,
and they’d take everything I had. They did n’t touch Jones, because he’s
on their side.

“The rebels come along and plunder the union men, but when you-’uns come
you don’t touch the seceshers nor anybody else, except to pay in clean
cash for what you want. It’s a one-sided business anyhow, and if it
keeps on I ‘ll have to turn secesh to save myself.”

This was actually the case for some time in Missouri and other
border-states, and there is no doubt that many men who were in favor of
the Union at the start became rebels in course of time in order to save
their property. After a while affairs were changed and the men who were
on the side of the rebellion had to suffer when our armies came in their
vicinity. The property of all was seized wherever wanted. A union
man was compensated for his loss, while a pronounced rebel had great
difficulty in securing compensation, and very often did not get anything
whatever.

Later in the war Jack and Harry became known for their expertness in
foraging, and many were the chickens and pigs that fell into their
hands. They had splendid noses for scenting game, and when they could
not find anything edible in a section of country it was pretty certain
that the region had already been swept bare.

The skill acquired by our soldiers in catching “game” is well
illustrated in the way they used to take pigs while marching at will
along the road. A pig would make its appearance by the roadside along
which a regiment was making its way. Some of the foremost men would
throw out a few grains of corn, and, at the same time word would be
passed along the line and several of the men in the rear would fix their
bayonets on their guns. Piggy, all unsuspicious, would be tolled by the
corn close to the roadside, and as the rear soldiers came along two of
them transfixed the creature through the neck with a bayonet and swung
him in the air. He was caught in the arms of two other soldiers, who
speedily disemboweled him, and then cut up and distributed the meat.
It was all done without breaking out of the line of march, and was
characterized by the officers as a “wonderful triumph of mind over
matter.”

Chickens were the favorite plunder of food-seeking soldiers, partly
on account of their toothsome character and partly in view of their
portability. Pigs and sheep came next in the line of desirable things,
as they could be subdivided with ease and if necessary with great
celerity.

[Illustration: 079]



CHAPTER X, LESSONS IN MULE-DRIVING--CRITICAL POSITION OF THE ARMY.


|Our young friends were not long in receiving the promotion they desired
and certainly deserved. From being mere attachés, or as Jack expressed
it, “adjutants,” of the wagon-train they were raised to the dignity of
drivers each having a team of his own. It was a promotion at which they
were greatly elated, though it brought additional responsibilities and
hard work.

Shortly after leaving Booneville one of the regular drivers fell ill
and was left behind. His place was given to Harry, who had shown himself
fairly competent to fill it in spite of his youth, and also in spite of
his lack of that accomplishment of the ordinary teamster, a familiarity
with profanity. We have already alluded to this peculiarity of the
average driver, and the faith possessed by many people that mules and
oxen cannot be successfully managed except by an expert in swearing. But
Harry got around the difficulty nicely and very much to his credit.

His education was not extensive, and had been confined to the ordinary
branches of the common school. He was proficient in the three R’s:
“reading, ‘riting and ‘rithmetic,” and had made a fair start in grammar
and geography. While wondering what to do in order to be able to drive a
mule team successfully, and at the same time avoid falling into the use
of profanity, he hit upon an idea which is commended to all readers of
this narrative under similar circumstances.

He picked out the hardest names he could remember in his geographical
studies and determined to make them the means of propelling obstinate
animals and inducing them to pull properly when pulling was desired.
With the permission of one of the regular drivers he practiced on the
teams and found his plan worked very well; so well, in fact, that it
received the commendation of the chaplain and of the colonel of the
regiment, and furthermore, the team seemed to enjoy it.

“Sebastopol” was one of his favorite expletives, and when he hurled it
at a mule, hissing the first syllable through his teeth and giving full
vent to his voice on the last, that mule was sure to do his very best
until the load moved or the harness gave way. In the same manner he
found “Calcutta” an expletive of great power, and so was “Nagasaki” and
also “St. Petersburg.” When he wanted something of unusual strength for
a momentous occasion he informed his obstinate animals that “Vienna
is the Capital of Austria,” or “the Dutch have taken Holland.” Nothing
could surpass the efforts of the team when these phrases were thrown
into the elongated ears of the unschooled mules.

Harry imparted his plan to Jack, and when that youth was shortly
afterward put in charge of a team which had been hired at Booneville for
the trip to Springfield, he repeated the experiment. It did not work
as well as in Harry’s case, but the reason was found in the fact that
Jack’s mules were of Missouri origin and proverbially ignorant, while
those of Harry had come all the way from Iowa, and had the benefit of a
northern training. While the Northern mules might be supposed to have
a thirst for travel that would make geographical facts sink deep into
their hearts, those of the more southern state were content to remain
in their ignorance, and, like Jeff Davis, “all they asked was to be let
alone.”

“You’re saying that in joke, of course,” remarked the quartermaster when
Jack explained the reason of the difference in the animals of the two
states. “But let me tell you,” he continued, “that you’re nearer fact
than you suppose. ‘Like master like man’ is an old adage, and why should
n’t a Missouri mule be like a Missouri man? As a general thing the
Missouri people have opposed everything that tended to the development
of the state. I refer to the slaveholding portion, or those who
sympathize with slavery, though they may have no slaves of their own.”

“How was that?”

“They were afraid it would interfere with their system of slavery, as
they saw it would bring in a population that believed in freedom instead
of the old state of things. When the Butterfield Overland Stage Line was
established from St. Louis to California they tried all they could to
stop it; they declared it was n’t needed; and they did the same when
the Western Union Telegraph Co. wanted to build a line across the state.
They opposed the railways that have been built in various parts of
the state, and for the same reason, notwithstanding the fact that the
railways would make their land more valuable by bringing them nearer a
market. I have lived in Missouri and know what I’m talking about.

“Education has always been much more backward in the South than in the
North, as everybody knows, and it is the system of slavery that caused
this backwardness. Travel through the Northern states and you see a
school-house in every village and almost at every cross-road, but in the
South you may go hundreds of miles without seeing a school-house. This
one fact speaks volumes in itself and illustrates the conditions growing
out of slavery on the one hand and freedom on the other. A people that
do not want education do not want railways and telegraphs, or anything
else that indicates progress. Only when the South gets rid of slavery
will it wake up and adopt the institutions of the North.”

Regarding the South in the light of the present day, the words uttered
by the quartermaster may be regarded as prophetic. It is only since the
war wiped away the stain of slavery that the Southern states have vied
with the North in developing their resources and have sought to have
a really intelligent population. Before the war education was confined
chiefly to the rich or the well-to-do, the majority of the poor whites
being but little above the negro in the scale of intelligence. Thousands
on thousands of them were unable to read or write, and those who could
do so had little knowledge of the rest of the world.

Our young friends had frequent opportunities to test the intelligence of
the natives of the region through which they were traveling, and many
of their experiences were amusing. One day they talked with a farmer who
had an impression that St. Louis was the largest city in the world, and
practically the only one he had heard of New York and Chicago, but had
no clear idea of their location except that they were somewhere in the
North, and did not believe they amounted to much anyway. He thought
Abraham Lincoln was a black man, who had somehow been made president of
the United States by the abolitionists, and if his armies succeeded in
conquering the South the government would be altogether in the hands
of the blacks, who would speedily proceed to enslave the rest of the
population and “have white men for niggers.”

Several times they talked with men and women who were much surprised to
find the Yankee soldiers were white men; they had expected to see only
negroes, and especially thought it strange that the officers were white
instead of black. A woman at whose house they stopped to get a drink of
water said she did n’t mind the white soldiers, but when it came to the
black republicans she would n’t be able to endure them.

“Why, we are black republicans, madam; or would be if we could vote,”
 said Jack.

“No, you can’t be,” was the reply; “you’re just as white as we-’uns if
you’d only wash your faces.”

The boys good-naturedly enlightened her on the subject by explaining
that the term “black republicans” was a derisive one, which the
Democrats had applied to the Republican party, and had no reference to
the complexion of those who voted the Republican ticket. They were not
sure that they had convinced her, though they certainly raised doubts
in her mind when she saw the hundreds and thousands of men that marched
past the place, and all of them anything but negroes.

Another time they were less successful, as the native whom they sought
to instruct pointed triumphantly to the colored servant of one of the
officers, who was mounted on a spare horse belonging to his employer.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” was the angry retort, “when there’s one of
your generals, a regular nigger, on a black horse.”

The joke was too good to be kept, and that evening it was circulated
through the camp. It caused a great deal of laughter, and for some days
the servant who had been the innocent cause of the mistake was addressed
by his associates as “general.”

There was no fighting on the march from Booneville to Springfield, as
the state forces under Governor Jackson and General Price were on their
line of march considerably farther west, and had a good start. They
were being followed by a column from Leavenworth, under command of Major
Sturgis, but the pursuers were not able to overtake them, being delayed
at the crossing of a river which lay on their route. It had been hoped
that the rebels would be caught between the two columns of Sturgis and
Sweeney, and if they had been thus caught there was an excellent chance
of a Union victory.

As the days wore on after the arrival of the Union forces at
Springfield, the most important town of southwestern Missouri, the
situation became critical. It was known that General Price had formed a
camp at Cowskin Prairie, near the southwest corner of the state, to wait
for the reinforcements that were promised by the Confederacy, and it was
soon learned that these reinforcements had arrived and Price was about
to move on Springfield.

Altogether General Lyon had about six thousand men under his command,
but many of them were enlisted for only three months; the expiration of
the time of some of them was fast approaching, and others were already
free to go home.

General Fremont had been placed in command of the department, and to him
General Lyon sent an earnest appeal for reinforcements, saying he would
be compelled to retreat unless troops were sent to him. The desired
troops were promised, but before they started the rebels threatened
Cairo in Illinois, and the regiments destined for General Lyon were sent
there instead of going to southwestern Missouri, as originally intended.

Lyon was receiving no reinforcements, while Price was gaining in
strength and adding to the effectiveness of his men. About the twentieth
of July Lyon’s force was weakened by the departure of two regiments of
three-months’ men whose time had expired, while the time of the First
Iowa (the regiment to which Jack and Harry were attached ) would be out
early in August. No wonder General Lyon was troubled in mind, and that
he sent urgent appeals to General Fremont for immediate aid.

News came that the rebels were advancing upon Springfield and that a
great battle was imminent. Jack and Harry were jubilant at the promise
of fighting, but older ones shook their heads and looked serious. The
secession inhabitants of Springfield were rejoicing over the prospect
of soon being rid of their Yankee visitors; they could not conceal their
delight, and this circumstance convinced the thoughtful ones among the
unionists that the coming clash of arms would be anything but a light
one.



CHAPTER XI. A TERRIBLE MARCH--A FIGHT AND A RETREAT.


|On the first of August General Lyon marched out on the road to the
southwest and in the direction where the enemy was supposed to be; in
fact, where it was positively known that he could be found. Most of the
wagons were left behind, and among them were those driven by Jack
and Harry. Not wishing to miss the chance of seeing a battle, those
enterprising youths accompanied the column by permission of their
regimental quartermaster, and under promise to return whenever word
reached them that they were wanted.

August is a hot month in that part of the country; in fact, it is a
hot month, as everybody knows, from one end of the United States to
the other. Only a few miles were made on the first day’s march from
Springfield, but those few miles witnessed the exhaustion of many of
the soldiers. The next day the column moved on to a place known as
“Dug Spring,” probably to distinguish it from the natural springs which
abound through that country. And the heat of that day was something
terrific.

Scores of men, overcome by the sultry atmosphere, dropped out of the
line of march and fell exhausted by the roadside, where some of them
died from the effects of sunstroke. Water was to be found only at long
intervals, and when found the springs were soon rendered muddy or were
completely exhausted by the crowds that rushed into them.

In southwest Missouri, as in many parts of the southern states, the
spring which supplies a residence is covered with a frame building eight
or ten feet square, and known as the springhouse. There are very few
cellars in that region, and the springhouse is used for preserving milk,
meat and other articles requiring the lowest attainable temperature in
the absence of ice. The spring that gave the name to the locality in
question was of this sort, and a small stream of water flowed from it
perpetually, and probably is flowing still. To realize what happened
there, let us quote from a letter which Harry wrote that evening to his
mother:

“My Dear Mother: I have known what it was to be very thirsty, but until
to-day I never knew what it was to suffer--actually suffer--for want
of water, though I have often thought I knew. It was one of the hottest
days I ever saw in my life; the road was just one long line of dust, as
no rain had fallen for some time and the ground was perfectly dry. We
had a little skirmishing with the rebels in front of us, but it was very
evident that we only met small scouting parties of them, as they fell
back very soon after we met them. But so much did the men suffer for
want of water that they didn’t care for the enemy, and would have risked
their lives for a cooling drink from a brook or spring.

“We had left Wilson’s Creek and Tyrol’s Creek behind us; they are little
streams or brooks that ordinarily contain only a few inches of water,
but are said to be small rivers in their way when heavy rains fall. We
went several miles without water, and at length the head of the column
reached a large spring, which they told us was made by digging in the
low ground, and for this reason it was called Dug Spring.

“Of course the first men that came to it rushed into the little
springhouse to quench their thirst and fill their canteens, which they
succeeded in doing. But before they had done so the crowd around the
building was so dense that those inside could not get out; everybody was
frantically seeking for water, water, water, and so wild were the men
that the officers could not control them.

“They lifted the springhouse from its foundations and threw it to one
side, but this didn’t help matters any. As fast as the men came up and
the word was passed that there was a spring there, the ranks were broken
and all that the officers could do was not enough to keep the men
in place. Officers and men struggled together for water and all
distinctions of rank were lost.

“The spring was soon exhausted and so was a trough close by that
contained water which had evidently stood there for some days. A pool
a little way below the spring, where the hogs had wallowed, was eagerly
sought by the struggling crowd and their feet stirred the contents
so that it was half mud. Soldiers had a hard struggle to fill their
canteens with this stuff, and when they had done so and came out of
the crowd they refused to give away a single drop. One of the newspaper
correspondents says he saw an officer offer five dollars to a soldier
for a canteen full of this liquid, and the soldier refused it, saying he
could not get any more and would die himself unless he had something to
drink.

“By the time Jack and I got to the spring the water was all gone and
we didn’t know what to do, as we were ready to drop with thirst. Our
tongues were swollen and almost hanging from our mouths, and we felt we
could not stand it much longer. I dashed into the crowd at the spring
and saw it was no use; then I got into the other crowd at the pool and
tore up two handfuls of the moist earth and carried them to one side.
Jack did just like me, and we managed to squeeze a few drops of water
out of the earth which we had thus secured. We tried it again, others
did the same thing, and somehow we managed to get enough to cool our
throats just a little.

“We camped this evening on a little creek a few miles further on, and
here we are. The men care little for food; all they want just now is
to get enough water to drink. The camp is in great confusion and if a
well-disciplined enemy should fall on us just now it would have a good
chance of whipping us. They say the rebels are only a little way ahead
of us, and perhaps w e shall have a fight with them to-morrow.”

On the next day there was a skirmish, in which a few men were wounded,
and the report was that the rebels had suffered severely; but as usual
in such cases, especially at the beginning of the war, the rumors were
far above the facts. As an illustration of this tendency we will take
one of the battles of 1861 in which there were ten killed on one side
and thirteen on the other, and about forty wounded. The Union commander
estimated the rebel loss “at not less than from three hundred and fifty
to four hundred,” while the Confederate historians said the Union
loss was “from one hundred fifty to two hundred killed, and from three
hundred to four hundred wounded.” One of the best reports of a skirmish
was that of a commander who wrote, “our loss was nothing; the enemy’s is
not known, but is certainly three times as great as our own.”

Twenty-four miles from Springfield General Lyon decided to fall back to
that town, as he learned that the rebels had a force three or four times
as great as his own; it turned out that these figures were a good deal
exaggerated, but after making the most liberal deductions it is certain
that they had fully twice his number. He reached Springfield on the
fifth of August, and was more disheartened than ever. No reinforcements
had come to him from General Fremont, and from all indications none were
likely to be sent in time to do him any good. We had two alternatives:
to fight a battle with great odds against him, or to fall back to Rolla,
the terminus of the railroad, without a fight.

At a council of his officers it was decided that the moral effect of
retreating without a battle would be greater than after one; unless,
indeed, the army should be so badly defeated that escape would be
impossible. The rebels advanced and camped on Wilson’s Creek, ten miles
from Springfield. It has become known since that there was a bitter
quarrel between General’s McCulloch and Price, and in consequence of
this quarrel the rebels did not come at once to attack Springfield.

McCulloch was carrying out the policy of the Confederate government,
which just then did not favor pushing the war into the border states;
while Price wanted to take the offensive against the national government
and push the Union forces quite out of the state of Missouri. He was for
fighting and pushing on, while McCulloch was opposed to anything of the
kind; not on account of cowardice, be it understood, for he was as brave
a soldier as the Confederacy produced during the war, but for political
reasons, which have just been mentioned. He was only induced to march
upon Springfield by General Price giving up the command to him, and
furthermore by the threat of the latter that if McCulloch still refused
to advance, he (Price) would alone advance with his Missourians and give
battle to the Union forces.

On the eighth of August Price learned that Lyon was fearful of an
attack, and was making preparations to abandon Springfield. He urged
McCulloch to advance at once, but the latter would not do so. On the
ninth it was decided that an attack would be made on Springfield the
next day, and the troops were ordered to be in readiness to move at nine
o’clock that night. But the plan was changed on account of a slight rain
which fell towards evening and threatened to continue during the night.
Many of the Missourians had no cartridge-boxes and were obliged to
carry their ammunition in their pockets; consequently, a rain would have
spoiled their cartridges and made these soldiers useless in a fight.

To what slight causes do we often owe the course of events!

The rain which stopped the Confederate advance did not interfere with
the plan which General Lyon formed during the day after consultation
with his officers. It was to move out on the night of the ninth and be
ready to attack by daylight on the tenth. The rebels were camped along
Wilson’s Creek for a distance altogether of about three miles, and it
was not likely that they expected General Lyon would seek to trouble
them with his greatly inferior numbers. As they expected to move at
daylight, to attack Springfield, they had drawn in their pickets, and
consequently were not aware of the Union advance until it was close upon
them. General Lyon’s plan was to attack both ends of the rebel camp
at the same time, and for this purpose he divided his forces, sending
General Sigel with his own and Colonel Solomon’s regiments of infantry,
a battery of six guns and two companies of regular cavalry to attack the
right wing of the rebels on the east side of the Fayetteville road. At
the same time he proposed, with the remainder of the Union forces, to
fall upon the other wing of the enemy’s camp. The movements were to be
so timed that the attack would be made at daylight, and General Sigel,
in case he got first into position, was to wait for the sound of General
Lyon’s guns.

[Illustration: 091]

On this plan the two forces marched out of Springfield on the evening of
the ninth. To how many men was that the last march, including the brave
commander of the Union army of southwest Missouri!

Each column by midnight had reached a point about four miles from the
rebel camp, and within sight of some of the rebel camp-fires. There the
men bivouacked on the field, and waited anxiously for the coming dawn.
Daylight glimmered at length in the east, and, with as much silence as
is possible to an advancing army, the march was resumed.



CHAPTER XII. BATTLE OF WILSON’S CHEEK.--DEATH OF GENERAL LYON.


|Here is a description of the battlefield of the tenth of August, 1861,
by a gentleman who was there on that occasion, and afterward visited the
spot when he could do so without danger from shells and bullets.

As you go south from Springfield there is a comparatively level country
for several miles, but in approaching the creek which gives the name to
the battlefield you find a more broken region. The valley of the creek
is bordered by low hills, and at the time of the fight these hills were
covered with scrub-oaks, which were generally known to the natives as
“black-jacks.” These trees are so thickly scattered in many places that
it is impossible to see for any distance, and on the day of the battle
they masked the movements of the opposing armies from each other and led
to several surprises.

The Fayetteville road going south crosses the creek at a ford and then
runs almost parallel to the course of the stream for nearly a mile.
On this part of the road and along the creek the main body of the
Confederates was encamped, and the camp extended up a tributary of
Wilson’s Creek known as Skegg’s Branch. Between Skegg’s Branch and its
junction with Wilson’s Creek is a steep hill, perhaps a hundred feet
high, its sides seamed with ravines and its top broken with rocks in
many places, so that wagons and artillery cannot be freely moved about.

This was known as Oak Hill at the time of the battle, and has since been
called Bloody Hill by the Confederates in memory of the slaughter that
took place there. It was the scene of the principal fighting of the day
and of the death of General Lyon.

During the war it often happened that engagements were called by
different names by the opposing forces. Thus the battle now known as
that of Shiloh was originally called the battle of Pittsburg Landing by
the Northern side and Shiloh by the South. The battle of Pea Ridge was
so named by the Northerners, but it was known as Elkhorn Tavern by the
South. In the same way the battle of Wilson’s Creek, as the North knew
it, was the battle of Oak Hill to the South. In fact, it had three
names, as General Price in his official report called it the battle of
Springfield.

Oak Hill, or Bloody Hill, was covered with low bushes in addition to the
scrub-oaks already mentioned, but the underbrush was not thick, and
did not particularly interfere with movements of troops or individuals,
though it caused the lines of the soldiers to be considerably broken,
and furnished a complete screen to men lying down. The rebels were
camped at the foot of the hill, and its summit afforded a good view of
the greater part of the Confederate position.

General Lyon reached the farther slope of the hill before his approach
was discovered. His advance was first made known to the Missourians, who
were camped in that vicinity, and whose commander had sent out a picket
about daylight. The first encounter was between Captain Plummer’s
battalion of regulars and Colonel Hunter’s Missouri regiment, the latter
falling back as their commander saw the strength of the forces opposed
to him. General Lyon advanced as rapidly as possible, and soon had
possession of the crest of the hill.

The whole force of General Lyon which he had on the field on that
terrible morning was about five thousand five hundred men, of whom one
thousand two hundred were with General Sigel and three thousand three
hundred under his own personal direction. General Sigel’s forces have
been enumerated. Those of General Lyon were Captain Plummer’s regulars,
the batteries of Captains Totten and Dubois--ten guns in all, Steel’s
battalion of three hundred regulars, Osterhaus’s battalion of volunteer
infantry, and the volunteer regiments of the First Missouri, First
Iowa and First and Second Kansas. According to their own figures the
Confederates were ten thousand one hundred seventy-five strong, about
half of them belonging to the Missouri state guard and the other half
to the forces that had been sent from Arkansas and Louisiana to aid the
Missourians in recapturing the state from the national government.

Let us turn for a moment to General Sigel. His part of the plan of
attack was perfectly carried out. He arrived before daylight in the
position assigned to him and had his guns in position and his troops
drawn up ready to begin the attack as soon as he heard the sound of
Lyon’s guns. From the point where he stood he could look down upon the
rebel camp and see the cooks busy with their preparations for breakfast,
and he so arranged his skirmishers that they captured every man who
straggled out of camp, and thus prevented any warning of the presence of
an enemy. Anxiously did he wait for the signal to begin the attack. He
and his officers around him saw that they would make a complete surprise
of the part of the camp they were to attack, and already felt sure that
the battle would be in their favor.

It was a few minutes past five when the first of the rebels were
encountered by Lyon’s advance, and by five-thirty the battle had begun.
Captain Totten planted his artillery in a good position and threw a
12-pound shell into the enemy’s camp. Shell after shell followed from
his batteries and Dubois’s, and then the sounds of Sigel’s cannon were
heard answering from the other end of the line.

A rebel officer afterward told the writer of this story that he was
asleep in his tent when an orderly came to tell him to get his regiment
under arms, as the Yankees were coming.

“Is that official?” queried the officer, as he languidly raised his
head.

Before the orderly could answer the sound of a cannon was heard, and a
shell tore through the tent and narrowly missed its occupant.

No explanation was needed. “Well, that’s official, anyhow,” exclaimed
the officer as he sprang from his blankets and went through whatever
toilet he had to make with the greatest celerity.

Sigel’s shot fell among the Arkansas and Louisiana troops, while those
of Lyon were delivered at the Missourians. Very quickly the rebel
forces were under arms; their tents fell as though by magic, and from a
peaceful camp the spot was changed into a scene of war as by the wand of
a magician.

The scrub-oaks and underbrush masked the movements of the rebels and
enabled them to form their line quite near that of Lyon’s forces without
being seen. They waited for Lyon’s advance, which was not long delayed,
and as the Union troops came advancing through the bushes they were met
by a withering fire from the rifles of the Missourians at close range.
This was on the slope of Bloody Hill, and on this hill for five hours
the battle raged between the opposing forces.

Neither side attempted a bayonet charge, as the ground was quite
unsuited to it on account of the density of the brush and the
uncertainties that might be behind it. Most of the Missourians were
armed with ordinary shotguns and hunting-rifles; consequently they could
not have attempted a bayonet charge, even though other circumstances had
permitted one.

The opposing lines advanced, retired, advanced again, and often were not
more than fifty yards apart. Sometimes the ground was held and contested
for several minutes, and at others only for a very brief period. Now
and then came a lull, when for half an hour or so hardly a shot would
be fired, the antagonists each waiting for the next move of their
opponents. The stillness at these times was almost painful and in marked
contrast to the roar and rattle of the small-arms and the deep diapason
of the artillery whenever the battle was renewed.

The ground was strewn with dead and wounded. Here lay a body stiff and
still in the embrace of death, and close beside it another writhing in
the agonies of flesh torn by bullets or by splinters of shell. Rebel and
Union lay side by side as the line of battle changed its position,
and beneath more than one of the dwarfed oaks that spread over the
now-memorable field the blue and gray together sought shelter from
the August sun and from the leaden rain that fell pattering among
the leaves. Down by the base of the hill flowed the creek, apparently
undisturbed as ever. The waters invited the thirsty to partake, but
whoever descended to drink from the rippling stream, or to fill a
canteen for the wounded, who piteously begged for relief, did so at
the risk of his life. The creek was commanded by the rifles of the
Missourians concealed in a wheatfield on the opposite side, and not till
the end of the battle was their position changed.

The attack of General Sigel upon the rebel camp on his side of the line
was as successful as it was sudden. The camp was abandoned, and his
soldiers marched through it without opposition to form along the
Fayetteville road and be ready to cut off the retreat of the rebels
whenever they should be put to flight by General Lyon.

After the first shock of the battle was over, General McCulloch
carefully reconnoitered the position of General Sigel, and in
consequence of the protection afforded by the oaks and underbrush he was
enabled to do so without being seen. Ascertaining their position with
great exactness, he brought up two batteries and placed them within
point-blank range of Sigel’s line, and at the same time advanced the
Third Louisiana. All this was accomplished while Sigel still supposed
the entire Confederate force was engaged with Lyon; the complete screen
of the trees and bushes rendering the concealment possible.

The Third Louisiana was uniformed in gray exactly like the uniform of
the First Iowa. When it approached it was mistaken by Sigel’s men for
the latter regiment, and the word passed along the line that friends
were coming.

As the gray-coated rebels came up the fire of Sigel’s men was withheld
and flags were waved in welcome. The advancing enemies reserved their
fire and moved steadily forward, and before they were near enough to be
recognized the two rebel batteries opened with full force upon Sigel and
his astonished soldiers.

The latter were thrown into consternation, which was increased when the
gray-coated men, still supposed to be friends, charged straight upon
them and in a few moments had taken possession of five out of the six
guns. Until it was too late, the Germans under Sigel believed that the
regiment approaching them was the First Iowa, and withheld their fire,
with consequences easy to foresee.

Their rout was complete. Many were killed or wounded and many more
captured. About four hundred of Sigel’s men answered at the next
roll-call; some escaped and joined the retreating column the next
day, and a portion of the column took the road through Little York and
reached Springfield without further encounter with the enemy.

This happened about nine o’clock in the forenoon, and from that time on
the rebels could concentrate their attentions upon General Lyon, Sigel
being no longer in their way. They did so concentrate, and by ten
o’clock Lyon was very hotly pressed. Fresh troops were poured in by the
rebels, but Lyon’s whole force had now been engaged, and was steadily
melting away. The rebels were assembling for a fresh attack, and the
peril of the Union force was imminent. Unless they could break the rebel
line before it was ready to advance, the day was in great danger of
being lost.



CHAPTER XIII. AFTER THE BATTLE--A FLAG OF TRUCE.


|On the whole battlefield there was no man more calm and collected than
General Lyon, notwithstanding the great responsibility that rested upon
him and the fearful odds against which he fought. Now on horseback and
now on foot, he moved among his men, encouraging them by his manner and
with now and then a few brief words, making suggestions to his officers,
listening to the reports of his aids, calling back those who sought to
flee and steadying those who showed signs of giving way, rallying the
lines where they began to break and closing up gaps between companies
and regiments, he seemed a tower of strength where it was greatly
needed.

When it became apparent that Sigel had been routed, and not only could
no help be expected from him, but the regiments of the enemy which had
been engaged with him would now be turned in the direction of the main
column, General Lyon remarked to an officer that he feared the day was
lost. “But we will make another effort to save it,” said he; and with
this remark he moved to give some directions to Captain Totten, who was
serving his battery on the brow of the hill.

He was close to the most advanced section of the battery when his horse
was killed by a cannon-shot, and the general was somewhat stunned by his
fall to the ground. The colonel of the Second Kansas had been wounded;
the regiment was close in line with the First Iowa, and with these
regiments General Lyon undertook to lead an advance against the enemy,
when he was struck down by a bullet. He fell into the arms of his
faithful orderly, Lehman, who had kept close to his side, and breathed
only a few times after the latter had laid him gently on the ground.

Thus fell one of the truest soldiers, one of the purest patriots, one
of the most devoted men in his country’s cause that the world has ever
seen. He loved his country for his country’s sake, and hated slavery and
all its concomitants with deadly hate. While it existed he tolerated it,
because it was one of the institutions of the land; but when it
raised its hand for the destruction of the Union, he was its most
uncompromising foe. He believed in no half-way measures, in no
patched-up peace; and when the governor of Missouri set up the theory
of the right of the state to refuse to send troops to the war or permit
their enlistment within her boundaries, General Lyon would neither offer
nor accept any compromise. He held that the national government was
paramount to the state or any other local authority, and considered the
question one not to be argued.

In fighting the battle in which he lost his life he did so, not that
he was confident of victory, with the odds so greatly against him, but
because he considered it better to fight and take the chances of defeat,
rather than not fight at all. He justly believed that a well-fought
battle, even if lost, would leave no room for the charge, which the
rebels were making daily and hourly, that the Northern men were
cowards, who dared not fight. He knew that a retreat would enable
the Confederates to overrun all that part of the state as far as
the Missouri river; that it would give great encouragement to the
secessionists all through the state, and would equally discourage the
friends of the Union cause. There was a hope--just a hope--that he might
win, and so he risked the battle and prepared to abide by its results.

After the death of General Lyon the command fell upon Major Sturgis,
who immediately consulted the rest of the officers as to what should be
done. Ammunition was nearly exhausted, the rebels were pressing hard,
and it was speedily decided that the only safety lay in retreat, as a
continuance of the battle would simply lead to greater slaughter without
any prospect of victory. And so a retreat was ordered.

The withdrawal was made in good order, the enemy making no attempt
to follow. It has been stated that the rebels were at that moment
contemplating a retreat from the field, and had not the Union troops
withdrawn they would soon have found themselves victorious. This
statement rests upon report rather than authority, and certainly the
Confederate historians do not give any credence to it. Some ground for
the statement may be found in the fact that the last repulse of the
rebels before the order for retreat was given was a severe one, and
resulted in a disorderly retirement of the attacking column. At one time
the rebels were within twenty feet of the muzzles of Totten’s guns,
and it was only by the most determined resistance on the part of the
infantry supporting the battery that the assailants were driven back.

Most of the wounded were brought from the field in the wagons and
ambulances that followed the column, but so great was the number that
there was not room for all. Many were left on the ground, and so was the
body of General Lyon, which was afterward recovered by a flag of truce
that went out in charge of one of the young doctors attached to the
service, partly to recover the body and partly to care for or bring in
the wounded. Our young friend Harry was detailed to drive one of the
wagons that went to the field with the flag of truce. Greatly to their
disappointment both the youths had received strict orders to stay with
the wagons on the day of battle, so that they did not see anything of
the momentous events of the day. In the distance they heard the firing,
and now and then could get a glimpse of a column of men in motion, but
so far as the actual battle was concerned they practically saw nothing.

The flag of truce was gone several hours, and did not return until
evening. It was successful in its mission, and those in charge of it
were courteously received by the Confederate officers, though they met
with many scowls on the part of the rebel soldiers. Until the flag of
truce appeared the rebels were not aware of General Lyon’s death, and of
course when they heard of it they considered it an additional laurel for
their side. General Price sent Colonel Snead, his adjutant-general, to
identify the body of the fallen hero and deliver it to the men who came
for it, and he did so. Here is his account of the incident, together
with his estimate of the general’s character:

“General Price thereupon directed me to identify Lyon’s body, and to
deliver it to the bearer of the flag of truce. It had been borne to the
rear of the Federal line of battle, and there, under the shade of an
oak, it lay, still clad in the captain’s uniform which he had worn just
two months before when, relying upon the strength of his manhood, on the
might of his government, and on the justice of his cause, he had boldly
defied the governor of the state and the major-general of her forces,
and in their presence had declared war against Missouri and against all
who should dare to take up arms in her defense. Since that fateful day
he had done many memorable deeds, and had well deserved the gratitude
of all those who think that the union of these states is the chiefest of
political blessings, and that they who gave their lives to perpetuate it
ought to be forever held in honor by those who live under its flag. The
body was delivered to the men who had come for it--delivered to them
with all the respect and courtesy which were due to a brave soldier and
the commander of an army, and they bore it away towards Springfield,
whither the army which he had led out to battle was slowly and sullenly
retreating.”

[Illustration: 105]

Colonel Snead adds:

“The Confederates remained upon the field which they had won, and
ministered to the wounded and buried the dead of both armies. Before the
unpitying sun had sunk behind the western hills, all those who had died
for the Union and all those who had died for the South had been laid to
rest, uncoffined, in the ground which their manhood had made memorable
and which their blood had made sacred forever.”

Jack was waiting for Harry when the latter returned, and as soon as the
team had been unharnessed and the animals fed, the two youths had an
animated talk.

“The doctor told me to drive as fast as I could,” said Harry, “and you
can be sure I did. He had the flag of truce--a big napkin or towel tied
to a stick--and this he kept waving in front of the wagons as we went
along. We did n’t see anybody until we got pretty near the battlefield,
and then we came upon a picket of fellows in butternut clothes and
armed with shotguns and squirrel rifles. Yes, we did see somebody, as we
passed several of our wounded soldiers who had tried to follow the
army on its retreat, but were too weak to do so and had sat down by
the roadside or were still hobbling on as fast as they could. One poor
fellow of the First Iowa, who had been shot in the leg, was using his
gun for a crutch. He asked for a drink of water and we gave it to him,
and we gave water to some of the others, who seemed to need it badly.
The doctor says a wounded man always suffers terribly from thirst, and
one of the first things he always asks for is water.

“When we got to the rebel picket they stopped us and at first would n’t
let us go on or send inside to the commanding officer or anybody else
in authority. But the doctor good-naturedly said they could see for
themselves that he was the bearer of a flag of truce--that he had a
message to deliver, and the best way to find out whether he was right
or wrong was to send to the nearest commissioned officer and ask him to
come there.

“This appealed to the common sense of the sergeant, who did n’t seem to
be a bad fellow, but simply ignorant. He sent for his captain, and in
a little while the captain came. It was hard to distinguish the captain
from the soldiers, as they were all dressed alike; some of them had
pieces of red cloth sewed on their sleeves, and the captain had stripes
on his shoulders that looked just a little like shoulder-straps.

“The doctor delivered his message, and the captain told him to wait
awhile till he could report to General Price. Then the fellows of the
picket began to talk to us, and we got on pretty well, though we thought
they boasted a little too much under the circumstances about having just
licked our army and made us go back to Springfield.

“They asked us for tobacco, but we had n’t any, and then they hinted
that a little coffee would taste very well. We told them we had been
short of coffee for the last two weeks. They would hardly believe us,
but declared that while we had n’t had as much as we wanted, they had
been forced to go without it altogether. Fact is, they did n’t look as
though they had been well fed. One of’em took an ear of corn from his
pocket and said it was to be his supper, his breakfast having been just
like it.

“The captain came back with another officer, and then we went on to
where the general’s body was lying. The soldiers crowded around us,
the same sort of butternut fellows as we met at the picket. One of ‘em
started to say something insulting to us, but the captain shut him up
with a word, and after that the only affronts we had were scowls and
occasional mutterings about the Yankees and Dutch. The captain came with
us to the place where the picket was, and then let us go. The doctor
thanked him for his politeness, and offered him a cigar, which he
accepted with the remark that it was the first he had seen for two
months.”



CHAPTER XIV. LOSSES IN BATTLE--THE RETREAT.


|We expected to pick up one or two of the wounded men into my wagon
on our way back,” said Harry, “but found we did n’t have to. The other
wagons had followed close behind us, and gathered up all who could n’t
walk or take care of themselves. Some of the country people were out
looking after them, too, and by this time everybody ought to be cared
for in some way. But, of course, there ‘ll be a great deal of suffering
under the best of circumstances, as there is a great number of wounded
men on both sides.” And Harry was right; there was a great number of
wounded in proportion to the number of men engaged. It has been said by
students of warfare that down to that time there had never been in the
United States a battle in which the proportion of casualties was
as great as at Wilson’s Creek, and without stopping to examine the
histories of all previous battles this is a safe assertion. Let us look
at the figures:

The total of the Union forces was not far from five thousand four
hundred, including officers and men. They lost in the battle two hundred
and fifty-eight killed, eight hundred and seventy-three wounded, and one
hundred eighty-six missing, a total of casualties of one thousand three
hundred and seventeen; or, deducting the missing, we have of killed and
wounded on the field of Wilson’s Creek, one thousand one hundred and
thirty-one, or more than one in five of all who were present; and it is
generally considered by military men that where the killed and wounded
are one-tenth of the total on the field the battle is a severe one.

The rebel reports place their effective force on the tenth of August
at ten thousand one hundred and seventy-five, of which two hundred and
seventy-nine were killed and nine hundred and fifty-one wounded, a total
of one thousand two hundred and thirty, or about one man in nine of the
whole force. Even this was a heavy loss, but much smaller in proportion
when compared with that of General Lyon’s army.

Colonel Blair’s regiment, the First Missouri, had seven hundred and
twenty-six men under arms when it went into battle. Its loss was
three hundred and thirteen, or almost one-half its entire number.
Seventy-seven of its men were killed, ninety-three dangerously wounded,
one hundred and twenty-six otherwise wounded, two were captured and
fifteen were missing at the next roll-call. The First Kansas lost two
hundred and ninety-six men out of seven hundred and eighty-five; the
Second Kansas, the First Iowa, and in fact all the other regiments on
the field lost severely, but not as heavily in proportion as did the
First Missouri and the First Kansas.

Another notable circumstance of the battle was the large number of those
engaged in it under Lyon who afterward rose to high rank. From that
little army eight officers rose to be major-generals before the end
of the war, and thirteen to be brigadier-generals. Many of the men
who fought in the ranks became captains, majors and colonels. In 1863
thirty-two commissioned officers were in the service from one company of
the First Iowa, and twenty-eight from one company of the First Missouri.
And through all the noble records they made during the war for the
preservation of the Union, one of their proudest boasts was, “I was at
Wilson’s Creek with Lyon.”

Among those who rose to be major-generals were Schofield, Stanley,
Steele, Granger, Sturgis, Herron, Sigel and Osterhaus; while of the
brigadier-generals were Carr, Plummer, Halderman, Mitchell, Dietzler,
Sweeney, Totten, Clayton and Gilbert. Some of these officers covered
themselves with glory in subsequent campaigns, and their names are
familiar to the veterans of the war and will live in the history of the
country.

All this, time we have left Jack and Harry talking about the battle, and
particularly about the experience of the latter in accompanying the flag
of truce.

Their conversation was cut short by an order to be in readiness to
move at any moment. Evidently this meant that the army was to abandon
Springfield, which it could hardly hope to hold for any length of time
after the result of the day’s fighting.

“If they ‘ll allow us,” said Jack, “we’ll keep our wagons close together
and help each other all we can.”

“Of course we will,” was the prompt reply. “We shall probably follow our
regiment, unless the train gets mixed up on the road and the wagons are
scattered.”

“I don’t know much about it,” said Jack, “but it seems to me that the
rebs could make it very lively for us if they wanted to. Here we’ve got
a long train of wagons, we’re a hundred and thirty miles from the end
of the railway, and there’s a river to cross on the way, besides lots
of small streams and miles of woods, where they could drop on us at any
time before we knew they were there.”

“Anyway, we ‘ll hope for the best,” responded Harry, “and see how things
turn out. Wonder who’s to command the army now that General Lyon’s
dead?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find that out, though, pretty soon.”

Before the march began they ascertained that the retreat was to be
conducted by General Sigel. Major Sturgis, who had assumed command
immediately after Lyon’s death, refused to hold it longer, on the ground
that General Sigel’s commission in the volunteer service was superior
to his own as a major in the regular army. Accordingly General Sigel
assumed command with the assent of all the regular officers, and ordered
a retreat to Rolla.

Had the rebels chosen to give trouble they could have given a great
deal. The road to Rolla was none of the best. It was crowded with
the wagons of Union men who were fleeing in terror at the threatened
approach of the rebels, and the army had a train of wagons nearly five
miles long to encumber its movements. If the rebels had attacked it on
the road, they would have had a great advantage over the soldiers who
had been defeated at Wilson’s Creek. Brave as these men were, a defeated
army is never as good at fighting as one that has not suffered in that
way.

But the retreating army was not molested, and in five days it had
crossed the Gasconade river and was in a place of safety. As soon as it
had passed the Gasconade Major Sturgis discovered that he was really the
ranking officer, owing to the expiration of Sigel’s commission, or some
technicality concerning it, and therefore he demanded the command.

Sigel was disinclined to yield it then, but rather than have trouble he
did so, though had he foreseen the result it is quite probable that he
would have refused. The commanding officer was entitled to write the
report of the battle, and accordingly the report was written by Major
Sturgis. At that time there was a great deal of ill-feeling on the part
of many of the regular officers toward the volunteers. They looked with
contempt, often undisguised, upon the soldiers who had come from civil
pursuits or had not made military matters the occupation of their
lives. This feeling gradually wore away, though it was never entirely
obliterated, but in the early part of the war there was much more of it
than was good for the service.

General Lyon had none of this feeling, but this was far from being
the case with the regular officers under him. And their contempt for
volunteers was especially strong toward the Germans. They had few good
words for the Teutons who wore the blue, especially when those Teutons
were commissioned officers.

General Sigel, having brought the column from its perilous position at
Springfield to a point where it was out of danger, certainly deserved
to have something to say about the official report, especially when that
report placed upon him the responsibility for the defeat of the Union
forces and the victory of the rebels. It should be remarked that the
official reports do not show any loss in killed and wounded on the part
of the two companies of regular cavalry that accompanied Sigel in the
battle of Wilson’s Creek, though four men are reported missing from one
of those companies. With the exception of these four missing men all
the loss of Sigel’s column was borne by his infantry and artillery, all
volunteers and nearly all Germans.

At daybreak on the morning of the eleventh of August the head of the
retreating army marched out of Springfield in the direction of Rolla and
the rising sun. Five miles from Springfield there is a road coming in
from the direction of Wilson’s Creek, and it was feared that the rebels
might have pushed on a force during the night to contest the passage of
the fugitives beyond this point. Had they done so, the great wagon-train
would certainly have been in peril.

But no enemy appeared, and there was an agreeable disappointment on the
part of many of those in retreat. To none was this more the case than to
Harry and Jack, who did not relish the idea of losing their wagons and
the property in their charge. Somehow the horses and mules seemed to
catch the spirit of retreat and to feel that they were in danger. One
of the drivers declared that he had never known them to pull half as
earnestly as they did on the first day out of Springfield. He was sure
they were solid for the Union and did n’t want to fall into Johnny Reb’s
hands.

[Illustration: 117]

All along the road there was the wildest alarm among the inhabitants
who had espoused the Union cause. They felt that their lives would be
in peril as soon as the army had passed, and many of them had already
packed their wagons and were fleeing toward Rolla with whatever
household goods they could carry away. They abandoned homes and farms,
everything that they were unable to carry, and the spectacle presented
by these fleeing refugees was a pathetic one. They filled the road both
in front of and behind the army, and for weeks and weeks afterward a
steady stream of them poured into the Union lines. We shall have more to
say about these unfortunates by and by.

At last, after many trials and tribulations, the disheartened and weary
army was encamped at Rolla, where the welcome whistle of the locomotive
resounded through the air. The campaign of the southwest was ended,
and the footsore warriors had an opportunity to gain the rest they so
greatly needed.

Jack and Harry parked their wagons with the rest of the train, and
wondered what would happen next.

“We’ve had a lively time of it, Jack,” said Harry; “but I’m not sorry we
came.”

“Nor I either,” was the reply; “and I’m in no hurry to go home. Let’s
wait here awhile and see what’s going to turn up.”

This was agreed to, and they sat down to wait.



CHAPTER XV. IN CAMP AT HOLLA--A PRIVATE EXPEDITION INTO THE ENEMY’S
COUNTRY.


|The three-months troops whose terms had expired, or were about to
expire, were sent home, and the post at Rolla left in charge of the
three-years regiments that remained, together with a portion of the
regular forces of the late army of the southwest. The First Iowa, as
already stated, had been enlisted for three months, and soon after the
arrival at Rolla it returned to its own state and was disbanded.

True to their determination to see more of the war, Jack and Harry
remained at Rolla when the regiment departed. At the same time they
wrote to their parents and sent messages by their comrades, explaining
why they wished to stay in Missouri, and their reasons for not going
home. “We are not enlisted,” Jack wrote to his father, “and so we don’t
have to get into danger like the soldiers do. We’ve nothing to do but
drive wagons and stay around the camp, where everything is safe. The
boys will tell you how it is when they get home, and you may be sure we
won’t take any risks we can keep out of.”

There was a good deal of special pleading in Jack’s letter, as the
reader plainly perceives. It was certainly a greater risk for the youths
to remain at a frontier post than to go home, where they would be out
of all danger. Furthermore, anybody knows that while the position of a
teamster is safer than that of the soldier who goes into battle, it is
by no means a situation of unalloyed security. Wagon-trains are liable
to attack and capture in the enemy’s country, and one of the favorite
enterprises of a cavalry commander is to strike his enemy’s wagon-train
on frequent occasions. If the wagons can be taken away they become the
enemy’s property; if they cannot be secured they are destroyed, and,
in either case, the unfortunate drivers fall into the enemy’s hands and
become prisoners of war.

The history of war is full of stories of attacks upon wagon-trains; one
of the perplexing problems for the military commander to solve is how to
keep open his line of communications when advancing into the region
of war and protect the trains that bring forward the supplies for his
troops. If an army could be maintained without food and ammunition, save
what it could collect in the enemy’s country, many a leader would be
greatly relieved.

Through the recommendation of the officers of the First Iowa Jack and
Harry obtained employment with the post quartermaster at Rolla. With
the approval of the commander of the troops stationed there he issued
new clothing and blankets to the youths, and they felt, to use an old
phrase, “as proud as peacocks.”

A rumor came that a rebel army was assembling somewhere to the southward
for the purpose of attacking Rolla and securing the valuable property
stored there. The garrison was put at work to throw up defenses, cannon
were sent from St. Louis, the hills around the village were cleared of
brushwood, and everything about the place assumed the appearance of war.

One day Jack suggested to Harry that they would make an excursion into
the neighboring country, just to see for themselves and have a little
fun.

Harry agreed to the proposal, but said there was a difficulty in the way
on account of their clothing. They didn’t want to be known as belonging
to the garrison of Rolla, for the double reason that the people would
not talk freely with them, and, besides, they might be seized and
carried off as prisoners; and furthermore, their suits were new and they
didn’t want to spoil them as long as spoiling could be avoided.

Fortune favored them. That very day a scouting party brought in a
wagon-load of clothing which had been collected in a village a few miles
away to be sent to a company from that village, and then serving under
General Price. From this load of clothing the quartermaster allowed Jack
and Harry to help themselves, and they managed to pick out two suits
which fitted them about as well as one is ordinarily fitted in a
ready-made clothing store.

Slouch hats added to these butternut garments completed their costume,
and thus accoutered they set out on a tramp whose duration was an
uncertainty. Their plan was to walk from Rolla to Iron ton and back
again. The distance between the two points was about a hundred miles,
and they intended to take a different road on their return from the one
followed on the outward journey.

Ironton was then the terminus of the Iron Mountain Railway, and was
held by a garrison of Union troops. Colonel Wyman, who commanded the
Thirteenth Illinois, then stationed at Rolla, promised to write to the
commander of the post at Ironton and inform him of the proposed journey
of the youths, so that their story would not be discredited on their
arrival there. It was thought best that they should carry no letters or
papers of any kind which might compromise them in case of capture. So
they took nothing except sufficient money to pay their expenses on the
way, and this was supplied by the commander of the post. The paper
money of the state of Missouri was preferred to anything else by the
inhabitants of the region through which they were to pass, and
therefore they carried nothing which bore the stamp of the United States
government, with the exception of a few small pieces of silver coin and
some of the local “shin-plasters” that were then in circulation.

The story that they were to tell in case they were questioned was that
they had come from the northern part of Missouri and were on their way
to visit friends near Ironton. They would freely admit that they had
come through Rolla, and Colonel Wyman gave them permission to tell all
they knew about the garrison there, except to give a guess as to the
number of troops at the post. To all questions as to the number of
soldiers at Rolla, they were to reply that they “did n’t know, but
thought there were five or six thousand.”

The fact was a reinforcement was expected in a few days, but this was
unknown to the youths, and therefore the colonel was quite willing the
boys should give whatever information they could, and in saying that
they did n’t know the number of soldiers at the post they would be
strictly within the lines of truth. On their part they were to learn all
they could about what the secessionists were doing in the region between
Rolla and Ironton, and to what extent it was sending recruits to the
rebel forces in the field.

The only baggage either of them carried was an overcoat, if an overcoat
can be called baggage. Jack wanted to add a tooth-brush and a cake of
soap to his outfit, but the proposal was vetoed by Harry.

“Don’t you see,” said Harry, “you’d be giving yourself away at once?
These fellows here don’t use soap, or so rarely that it is an exception;
and as for tooth-brushes, I don’t believe a quarter of the people have
ever heard of’em. Suppose they search us or see us using soap and
tooth-brushes; they’d know right off that we were not of their kind.

“And did n’t you hear about how soap-boxes caused a lot of ammunition to
be seized?” Harry added.

“No; what was that?”

“It was about the time of the Camp Jackson affair, when the state
authorities were laying their plans for taking the state out of the
Union and getting ready to fight. The Union commanders at St. Louis were
trying to stop the shipment of arms and ammunition to the interior
of the state, and all packages of goods going in that direction were
examined. At first only the outside of the packages was looked at, but
one day something happened to require a more careful inspection.

“The examining officers found some boxes labeled ‘soap’ on a steamboat
bound for Lexington, on the Missouri river. Had there been only one or
two boxes he would not have been suspicious, but when he found more
than one hundred boxes he ‘smelt a mouse.’ He naturally wondered why
the people in that part of Missouri could want so much soap, and from
wondering he ordered some of the boxes opened.

“Every box was found to contain canisters of gunpowder instead of soap.
The whole lot was seized, and after that no goods were allowed to go
forward without a careful inspection. If the shipper had labeled the
stuff ‘whisky’ instead of ‘soap,’ nobody would have been suspicious, as
whisky is a staple article of commerce and consumption in that region.”

Jack admitted the force of the argument about soap, but insisted that a
tooth-brush would not be suspicious or betray their real character.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” replied Harry. “One of these Union men from
the very region we’re going through said the other day that he thought
the colonel of the Illinois regiment was a very nice man, until he saw
him come out in front of his tent one morning with a glass of water in
one hand and a little stick with some bristles on it in the other.

“‘He came out there,’ said the man, ‘and stood round for five or ten
minutes pushing that little stick round in his mouth and hawking and
spitting and sloshing that ‘er water among his teeth till it made me feel
sick. I don’t think he’s much of a nice man after that.’”

Jack laughed, and agreed that the tooth-brush must be left behind, as
well as the soap, and thus it happened that they started with neither of
those adjuncts of a civilized toilet.

They took the road leading in a southeasterly direction from Rolla,
starting one morning before daybreak, so as to be well on their way
before anybody in the village was stirring. The sergeant of the picket
on the road they were to travel had been notified to let them go on
without question, and he did so on their presentation of a pass duly
signed by the commandant of the post. By sunrise they were a good three
miles out of town, and had met nobody.

The first man they met was a Union refugee, who was making his way to
the post to escape persecution of his secession neighbors; at least that
was what the youths inferred, though he was too cautious to say so until
he had reached the protection of the Stars and Stripes. He asked if he
was on the right road for Rolla, and on being assured that he was he
appeared greatly relieved.

“I don’t know where you-’uns are going,” said he, “but you ‘ll find
lively times if you get down into Arkansas.”

“How so?” one of the boys asked.

“Why,” was the reply, “everybody’s going to the army, and they don’t
talk about nothing else. They say they’ll be up here soon and drive the
Yanks out of Rolla and everywhere else.”

“They’re used to driving,” said Jack; “there’s a lot of’em at Rolla
that’s just been driven in from Springfield, and don’t act as though
they were going back again in a hurry.”

“Yes, I’ve heard so,” replied the stranger; “p’r’aps they don’t want to
go back there yet awhile.”

The conversation lasted for ten or fifteen minutes, and was as
non-committal as possible on both sides. Neither party was willing to
admit friendliness for the Union side, as each was fearful of after
consequences. The stranger was the first to move on, as he evidently
distrusted the youths and wanted to get away from them.



CHAPTER XVI. HINTS FOR CAMPAIGNING--IN A REBEL’S HOUSE--SNUFF-DIPPING.


|After they had walked four or five miles the youths began to feel
hungry, and at Jack’s suggestion they stopped for breakfast at the side
of a little brook, which could supply them with that very important
ingredient of a traveler’s meal, water. Not only did they drink from the
brook while devouring the hard biscuit and boiled beef they had brought
along, but they bathed their feet in the stream, and carefully dried
them before putting on their shoes and stockings.

Very early in their campaigning they had learned the lesson of caring
for their feet. An old soldier said to them before they left Booneville:

“Make it a rule to bathe your feet whenever you have a chance, and
always dry them carefully before covering them again. Of course there
will be times when you must put on wet shoes and stockings and travel in
them for miles and miles, but never do it if you can help it. Wet feet
cause blisters, rheumatism and all sorts of trouble, and many a man has
broken down on a march because his feet were not properly cared for.”

“I should think the officers would look out for their men’s feet,” said
Jack, when the soldier made the above suggestion.

“So anybody would think, very naturally,” was the reply; “but the fact
is, a good many of the officers do nothing of the kind. They are either
above that sort of thing or else they give general directions to the
men, and then let them take care of themselves. A good infantry captain
will see to it that his men take care of their feet, just as a good
cavalry captain looks out for the shoeing of his horses and tries every
way he can to keep them from getting sore backs.

“And remember another thing,” he continued; “at night always take
off your boots or shoes, and sleep with your feet bare or only with
stockings on. Your rest with your feet free does twice as much good as
the same amount of rest with them confined in the leather you have worn
all day. This is the rule with all old travelers. Of course there are
times, when you are close to the enemy and a surprise may be looked for
at any moment, when you must make an exception to the rule; but don’t
make the exception if it can be avoided.”

Jack was skeptical on this point, and determined to try for himself.
So he slept one night with his boots on and the next with them off, and
found it just as the old soldier had told him. He candidly admitted
his mistake, and said that for the future he should n’t be so confident
about his own opinions when they did n’t coincide with those of persons
older and more experienced than himself.

“One thing more bear in mind,” said their informant, “and that is about
sleeping around a campfire.”

“What is that?”

“When you sleep near a fire always lie with your feet to it if you can.
If you turn your head toward it you will quite likely have a headache in
the morning, and, anyway, you won’t sleep well. The brain should be
kept cool while we are sleeping, and the feet warm. We cover our feet
at night when we sleep in beds, but leave our heads exposed. Follow the
same plan in camp, and if you have warmth anywhere have it at the feet.

“When you sleep in a tent have your head where you can get the greatest
amount of pure air to breathe. The Indians understand this, and when
they sleep in their circular wigwams or lodges they have their feet
toward the center and their heads nearest the circumference.”

These simple directions were of great use to Jack and Harry in their
subsequent campaigning, and should be remembered by any of the young
readers of this story. Other hints came to them from time to time, which
we may introduce hereafter.

After breakfast they continued their journey. Half a mile or so farther
on they came to a house, where they asked the way to the next village,
to make sure that they were on the right road. A woman and two
tow-headed children were the sole possessors of the establishment, and
they eyed the young travelers with an air of suspicion. After answering
the question, the woman asked where they were from.

“We’ve come from the other side of the Missouri,” answered Jack, “and
are going down to see some of our friends.”

“I know where you’re going,” said the woman. “You don’t look old enough
for soldiers, but you’re going South. Did you see any Yanks at Rolla?”

“Yes, lots of’em,” said Harry; “and’t wasn’t easy to get away from
there.”

“Yes, yes, that’s what they say,” responded the woman, fully convinced
by Harry’s answer that her suspicions were correct. And then she added,
“Wonder ‘f I could get to Rolla and get some snuff?”

The boys were non-committal on this point, but thought she would have
no trouble if she went straight to the provost-marsha’s office when she
entered the village, and told what she wanted.

“And I want a little tea and coffee, too,” she added; “and then some
salt and other things for the house.” Harry told her she might get a
pound or so of each, but he was sure the officers would n’t let anybody
come through the lines with more than that. “That’s what they told us
at Holla,” he added, “and so we did n’t try to bring anything along,”--a
statement which was literally true.

She promised to follow their directions, and then grew confidential. She
told them her husband was down on the St. Francis river, where General
Hardee was getting up an army to drive the Yanks out of Rolla and all
that part of the state. “He’s in Colonel Jones’s regiment,” said she;
“and if you see him, tell him we’re getting on all right and hope they
‘ll be along soon, as we’re getting mighty short of things to eat.”

Jack gravely made a mental note of the name of the man by pronouncing
it several times, and promised to hunt him up as soon as they got where
Colonel Jones’s regiment was. The woman then invited the youths to stay
and have something to eat. As they had just breakfasted they declined
the invitation, but accepted the offer of some milk. One of the children
brought it from the springhouse, and the young adventurers drank freely
and with a good relish. They had a conscientious twinge in so doing,
but swallowed the twinge along with the milk, and after thanking the
kind-hearted woman for her hospitality continued on their way.

“Funny she should want snuff before anything else,” said Jack, as soon
as they were out of earshot of the house.

“Nothing so very funny about that,” replied Harry. “Don’t you know how
they use it?”

“I’ve heard something about it, but don’t know exactly.”

“I picked it up the other day,” Harry explained, “and this is how it
is: They call it ‘snuff-dipping’ in the South,” he continued, “and it
is very much the fashion among the middle and lower-class whites down in
the cotton states, but not much in Missouri as yet. They take a little
stick and chew the end until it’s soft like a brush; then they dip
this moist brush in snuff and rub it on the gums and around the mouth
generally, and in this way they use up a good deal of snuff in the
course of a year. It is said to produce a pleasant sort of mild
intoxication, and after using it a little while a woman gets as much
addicted to snuff-dipping as a man does to chewing tobacco or smoking.
It’s the same sort of vice, and I can’t say I blame the women much, when
all the men around them are chewing or smoking tobacco.”

“Do they all use it?” queried Jack; “I mean do the young women dip snuff
the same as the older ones?”

“I did n’t think to ask that question,” Harry responded; “but the man
who told me said the women who dipped snuff mostly did it ‘on the sly,’
at any rate in the beginning of it. Probably they get bolder about it in
time, just as boys do when they learn to smoke. After a while they get
accustomed to snuff, and don’t get the excitement out of it that they
want, and then they take to smoking pipes just like men.”

Later observation convinced Jack that Harry had been correctly informed.
The further they went in the South the more they found the use of
tobacco prevailing among the women, and in several instances they found
little concealment practiced in the custom of snuff-dipping. At one
house where they called a middle-aged woman held her snuff-stick in her
mouth all the time she was talking with them, just as a man might hold a
cigar there, and an older woman sat by the fireplace smoking a corn-cob
pipe with the utmost indifference to the presence of the young visitors.

They did not stop again until early in the afternoon, when they called
at a house and asked if they could have dinner. There was a man about
the premises, in addition to the woman and the usual complement of
tow-headed children. He promptly said they hadn’t much to offer, but
the boys should be welcome. He had nothing but hog and hominy, and he
reckoned that was all they would find anywhere on the road.

Jack took the lead as spokesman, and assured him that hog and hominy was
good enough for anybody, and was all they wanted; and he further said
that cold hog was just as good for them as hot, and if there was any
cold in the house it would make them a first-rate dinner.

This avowal of democratic principles smoothed the way at once, and in a
little while dinner was ready. Fried bacon and cornbread constituted the
repast, which was washed down with milk, the boys intimating that they
preferred it to any other beverage, partly for the reason that it was
nutritious and partly because of the general scarcity of tea and coffee
through all the war-stricken region. The host was not inclined to be
talkative on the topics that were just then the most absorbing, probably
for the reason that he did n’t know exactly who and what his visitors
might be, and preferred to remain neutral. Many men in Missouri tried to
adopt this course, but sooner or later most of them were drawn into the
war on one side or the other; neutrality was next to impossible where a
man was able to bear arms or contribute in any way to the contest which
involved the existence or the destruction of the nation.

When the meal was over Jack asked how much they owed for it. The man
said he did n’t want anything, but if they had fifty cents to spare for
the children it might no come handy. Accordingly Jack gave twenty-five
cents to one of the children, Harry gave the same amount to another, and
everything was satisfactory.

Just as they arose from the table there was the sound of hoofs outside,
which drew everybody to the door. The hearts of the youths beat a little
faster than usual when they saw eight or ten horsemen riding up to the
house and ranging themselves in front of it.



CHAPTER XVII. A SUCCESSFUL SCOUT--CAPTURE OF A REBEL CAVALRY SQUAD.


|Are they friends or enemies?” was the question which rose
simultaneously in the thoughts of the two adventurers. One thing was
certain, they were not a cavalry scouting party from Rolla, as they
were not in the army uniform, but were dressed in the common garb of the
country, the universal “butternut.”

Two of the men dismounted and entered the house, or rather stepped just
within the doorway, while the others remained in their saddles and held
the horses of the two already mentioned. The first question of the one
who appeared to be leader was:

“Any Yanks about to-day?”

Receiving a negative reply, he asked if they had anything to drink. The
host said he had just a drop of whisky, but he was afraid there was n’t
enough to go around. He brought out a bottle, and as it was less than
half-full it was very evident that it would be a small allowance for the
party of horsemen, supposing all of them were thirsty.

The captain, as his comrades called him, proceeded to fill the bottle
with water, thus diluting its contents, and then remarked that he
thought it would go around. After taking a good-sized drink for himself
he went outside and handed the bottle over to his subordinates, by whom
it was speedily emptied.

While they were discussing the whisky and remarking upon its thinness,
the captain questioned the two youths, who replied as they had
previously arranged to do. They told the story they had already given
several times, and which they had begun to believe was entirely within
the bounds of truth. The captain seemed somewhat suspicious at first,
but before they were through talking he fell into the same error as did
the woman at whose house they stopped in the morning.

“We’re going south, too,” said the captain, “soon as we can raise more
men and horses. If you’d only a couple of horses we’d jest take you
along. But you don’t look old enough for soldiers. How old are you?”

Jack said they would be sixteen very soon, and he added that perhaps the
war might last long enough for them to get their full size. He echoed
the wish of the captain that they had horses to travel with, so that
they could go along with his company.

“Well, p’r’aps you ‘ll find some in a day or two,” the captain answered;
“there’s some of these Union men round here that ‘ve got horses we ought
to have.”

Jack took the hint and indicated their willingness to help themselves
to horses whenever they could find any. This was satisfactory to the
captain, and he said that they might join him as soon as they were
mounted, and it would n’t be very hard to find him if they asked in the
right quarters.

Then he gave them several names of men who could be relied upon, and
told where they lived. They covered a distance of fifteen or twenty
miles to the east and south, so that as soon as the youths had supplied
themselves with horses they could find out the captain’s rendezvous.
“But don’t trust this man,” said the captain, nodding in the direction
of the house in front of which they stood. “He talks South to our
fellows and North to the Yanks when they come around, and nobody knows
where to put him exactly. He’s trying to carry water on both shoulders,
and ‘ll be likely to spill it if he don’t look out sharp.” Then the
captain mounted his horse, after handing the empty bottle to the farmer,
and the troop of Southern recruits rode off. The farmer was evidently
glad to see them going away, and also not at all sorry when the boys
followed in the same direction. He had heard only a small part of the
conversation between them, but evidently caught enough of it to divine
its purport.

“It’s getting rather exciting,” said Harry, as soon as they were alone.
“Had n’t we better go back to Rolla and tell what we’ve seen and heard,
so as to put the colonel on the track of the captain who wants us to
become horse-thieves?”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” said Jack; “but how will we work
it?”

“That’s the question,” Harry responded. “It won’t do to turn round now,
as we should be suspected by everybody who has seen us, and particularly
by the man where we had dinner. I think he’s a Union man, or neutral
anyhow; but we ‘ll take the captain’s advice, and not trust him.”

“I have it,” said Jack. “We’re tired now, and will go into the woods
and have a sleep. We’re about fifteen miles from Rolla, and can get back
there by morning. Soon as it’s dark we can start back and go just as
fast as we can, and by breakfast time to-morrow we ‘ll have a party of
cavalry on the heels of the captain.”

This was agreed to, and at once the boys, in the parlance of the
Southwest, “took to the woods.” They slept soundly till dark, and then
took the back track for Rolla. Fortunately they met nobody save a man in
a farm-wagon, and as they heard the sound of his wheels some time before
he reached them they had abundant opportunity to conceal themselves by
the roadside till he had passed.

Just at daylight they reached the pickets outside of Holla, and were
immediately taken before the colonel, who received them in his tent and
heard their story. Then he sent for a lieutenant of cavalry, who was at
once dispatched with twenty men to hunt for the captain and his band of
horse-thieves. Jack and Harry offered to accompany them, but the
captain declined, partly because they were in great need of rest, having
traveled thirty miles in about twenty-six hours and been awake all
night, and partly because they would be recognized by those who had seen
them on the road, and by the captain and his men in case they should be
encountered.

“But do us one favor,” said Jack, when he found that their desire to
accompany the party would not be granted.

“Anything in reason,” said the lieutenant; “what is it?”

Then he told about the woman who had given them the milk and asked them
to stay to dinner, and he described the house so that it could not be
mistaken.

“Well, what about her?” asked the lieutenant, as Jack paused.

“Take her this,” said Jack, handing out a package containing half a
pound of tea, which he had obtained from the colonel’s servant while
they were waiting the arrival of the lieutenant, after the boys had told
their story. “Just leave it and say it is from friends; you need n’t
tell her anything more, and it isn’t necessary for her to know. We feel
rather guilty at having had her hospitality for nothing, and want to
compensate her in some way.”

The lieutenant laughed as he tossed the package to his sergeant and gave
the order to mount. In two minutes the party was off. It was accompanied
by two Union men, natives in that region, who were to act as guides in
designating the roads leading to the probable retreat of the captain
with whom the youths had formed so brief an acquaintance.

The lieutenant carried out the request of the boys and left the woman a
good deal puzzled over the affair. He did not stop five minutes at the
house, and briefly told her that an old friend had sent her something
he thought would be acceptable. As the boys could not in any sense be
considered old friends, she never once thought of them, and especially
as they had gone, as she supposed, to the South, and turned their backs
altogether upon Rolla and the way the Yankees came from.

Let us follow the scouting party and see how it turned out.

About fifteen miles out from Rolla, and near the point where Jack and
Harry turned back, the lieutenant halted his men and sought a place of
concealment in the woods by the roadside, first putting out a picket to
prevent any one passing in either direction. Then, as the Union guides
were known, he had them change clothing and horses with two of the men,
whom he sent forward to one of the secessionists whose name had been
given by the rebel captain to the youths. For this work he selected two
young and beardless men, on the chance that the captain had told the
secessionist that the two youths might ask his whereabouts.

The lieutenant’s calculations were correct. The resident readily told
where the captain was to be found, and the men returned by a circuitous
route to where the soldiers were waiting for the desired information.
Then there was a change back again to clothing and horses as before, and
the hunt for the human game was renewed.

So well was the affair managed that the whole band was captured without
the shedding of a drop of blood.

With the aid of the guides the camp of the rebel recruits was surrounded
and the whole party was taken by surprise. At first they were inclined
to fight, but when they saw their assailants were double their number,
and also were better armed, they considered discretion the better part
of valor and gave up as gracefully as they could.

The lieutenant returned in triumph to Rolla with his prisoners and their
horses. To guard against accidents the prisoners were not mounted on
their own steeds, but carried in a wagon which formed a part of their
camp equipment. Four soldiers with their carbines ready rode on each
side of the wagon, and if any attempt had been made to escape it would
have resulted badly for those who tried it.

The captured horses were turned over to the quartermaster, with the
exception of two, which the colonel gave to Jack and Harry for their
own use. Jack selected the one which had belonged to the captain, and
remarked as he did so that he had carried out that gentleman’s wishes
in helping himself to a horse, though possibly not in the way the latter
intended.

The colonel praised the boys for what they had done, but advised them to
give the region of their late operations a wide berth in future.



CHAPTER XVIII. THE REBELS OX THE OFFENSIVE--SIEGE OF LEXINGTON.


|The morning after their arrival at Rolla, the prisoners taken through
the instrumentality of Jack and Harry were sent to St. Louis, where
they were held until an exchange was arranged. Colonel Wyman thought
the interests of the service would be advanced by keeping the captured
captain and his comrades in ignorance of how their seizure was
accomplished, and in obedience to his orders the two youths kept out of
the way of the prisoners, and nothing was said in their presence that
could enlighten them.

It was several months before the captain found out how cleverly he had
been taken. At first he was inclined to be very angry with the boys, and
vowed vengeance upon them if he ever met them again; but on reflection
he remarked that all was fair in love and war, and perhaps he was not
quite free from blame in talking so readily with two entire strangers.
“They played the game well,” said he; “splendidly, in fact, for a pair
of youngsters, and if I can ever give them a helping hand when they’re
in trouble I ‘ll do it.” He was n’t at all a bad sort of fellow, that
captain, and you can be sure that after that he was n’t quite so ready
to confide in persons whom he had never seen before.

Not only did the boys have a selection from the captured horses, but
they had a choice of saddles and also of the pistols which formed the
armament of the prisoners.

All the pistols were old, and some of them were quite as likely to do
damage at the rear as at the business end. The captain had the best
weapon of the lot--a Colt’s revolver, and there was another just about
as good. Jack and Harry drew lots for the choice. The advantage fell
to Jack, who immediately picked up the captain’s revolver and handed it
over to Harry. “I’ve got the captain’s horse,” said he, “and you ought
to have something to remember him by, so you must take this along.” Thus
the division was settled, and both were happy.

Thus armed and mounted, the boys were what might be called “swells” in
the garrison of Rolla, and the envy of many of their associates. There
was not a great deal for them to do for a month or more, as the enemy
did not make the attack upon the post they had been threatening to make,
nor did they even make a feint of one. The boys went on several scouting
expeditions on their own account, with the approval of the commanding
officer of the post, and though they made some discoveries and obtained
information that was of use, they did not succeed in making captures of
prisoners and horses.

Recruiting for the rebel army was in progress in all the interior
counties of Missouri, and often almost under the eyes of the Union
authorities. Now and then an expedition seized a squad or company
of recruits and brought them triumphantly within the lines, but as a
general thing the most of the men who wanted to join the Southern armies
succeeded in doing so. The fact was, it was not possible to garrison
every town and village throughout the State, and it was thought best
to allow those with secession proclivities to get away to the field
whenever they wanted to go, rather than remain and be a cause of
trouble.

General Fremont had been assigned to the command of the Department of
the Missouri shortly before the battle of Wilson’s Creek, and it was
to him that General Lyon had appealed so earnestly and so vainly for
reinforcements to enable him to hold out against the advancing rebels.
After the retreat of the army to Holla and the occupation of Springfield
by the rebels, General Fremont set about organizing a force to take the
field early in the autumn, with the hope of securing possession of the
state and flying the Union flag all over its territory.

After the battle of Wilson’s Creek the disagreement which had existed
between the rebel leaders--Price and McCulloch--increased, and finally
threatened to end in warfare almost equal to that which they were trying
to wage together against the Union. McCulloch refused to advance further
into the state, in spite of the entreaties of Price. An appeal to the
Confederate government did not result in securing a peremptory order for
McCulloch to advance as Price desired, and the result was a separation.
McCulloch went back to Arkansas, while Price, whose forces had been
strengthened by recruits from various parts of the state, marched
northward in the direction of the Missouri river.

Price’s openly-declared intentions were to capture Jefferson City, the
capital, and re-establish Governor Jackson in authority there. A state
convention had met there in July, and, of course, there was no governor
to welcome it, and no commander-in-chief of the state forces. The
convention declared the office of governor vacant, and chose a new
governor, Honorable Hamilton R. Gamble, to fill Jackson’s place. It is
needless to say that Governor Gamble was a Union man, and from that
time onward the power of the state was exerted in favor of the national
government and against the rebellion of the South.

Jackson, the fugitive and rebel governor, never saw the state capital
again after he left on the day of the memorable flight to Booneville. He
continued with the rebel armies in southwest Missouri and Arkansas and
died in the last-named state long before the end of the war. General
Price survived the war and afterward went to Mexico, where he was one of
the founders of a colony of Americans who had sworn never to live under
the flag of the United States. He died there in 1867.

With twenty thousand men in his command, and with his numbers increasing
every day of his advance, Price reached Lexington, on the banks of the
Missouri, having two or three encounters with the Union forces on his
way, none of which were of much account. The superiority of his numbers
gave him the advantage, and his opponents wisely retreated as he moved
on. Lexington was garrisoned by about two thousand six hundred Union
troops, consisting of volunteer infantry and Home Guards, under command
of Colonel Mulligan, of the Irish Brigade. A fortification had been
thrown up around the college buildings, which stood in a commanding
position between the new and old towns of Lexington, and about half a
mile from the river. The bank of the river was a high bluff, and with
the exception of a small supply from cisterns and springs, water for
the garrison had to be brought by hand or hauled by teams from below the
base of this bluff.

Colonel Mulligan arrived at Lexington on the first of September, and the
fortification, which he greatly strengthened, had been laid out by the
commander of the troops already there. The spot was not wisely selected,
as we shall presently see. As one of the officers said afterwards, “It
was a very good place for a peace fortress, but very bad for warfare,
especially when the warfare has to be defensive.”

The men worked night and day to complete the intrenchments, which were
ten feet high, with a ditch eight feet wide, and capable of inclosing
ten thousand men. Rumors of the advance of Price were in the air, and
it was definitely known that he was moving toward Lexington. Appeals
for reinforcements were sent to St. Louis, but they did not succeed in
bringing troops to the aid of the garrison, for the simple reason that
none could be spared from that city.

On the afternoon of Wednesday, the eleventh of September, the Union
scouts and pickets were driven in by the enemy only a few miles out of
Lexington. The rebels followed rapidly and attacked one of the angles of
the fortifications, but not very vigorously. The fighting was kept up on
the twelfth and following days, while the rebel army was coming up
and making its preparations for the reduction of the fortification and
capture of the garrison.

There were nearly three-thousand mules and horses inside the
fortifications, and as the rebel shot and shell fell amongst them they
caused a great deal of trouble. Numbers of them were killed and their
bodies lay rotting in the sun, the garrison being too much occupied with
defending the position to give attention to burying the dead animals
or doing any other work of the camp. Frequently some of the affrighted
animals broke loose from their fastenings and ran wildly about the camp,
and it was finally found advisable to allow some of them to run outside,
as their value was not sufficient compensation for the trouble and
danger of caring for them.

The college building was within the inclosure, and occupied as the
headquarters of Colonel Mulligan. Very naturally, it formed a fine
target for the rebel artillery, and they fired away at it with good
effect. One night they fired hot shot at it, but did not set it on fire;
had they succeeded in doing so it would have created considerable havoc
among the garrison, as the ammunition for the defense of the place was
stored in the cellar, where it was covered with dirt and sods.

The rebels went to work leisurely, as before stated. They planted some
of their artillery on the river bank, where they stopped every steamboat
going up or down. They seized the ferry-boats that connect Lexington
with the opposite bank of the river, and thus prevented the crossing
of reinforcements which were moving from Kansas to join the threatened
garrison. Several steamboats were thus taken, and for a while, at least,
General Price was certainly master of the situation.

The country around Lexington grows a large amount of hemp, and thousands
of bales of this article were stored in the warehouses of the town.
The rebels rolled out this hemp, and with it constructed movable
fortifications, with which they proceeded to reduce the earthworks of
the Union army.

And this is the way it was done: The hemp was thoroughly wetted, so that
there would be no danger of its taking fire, and then the bales were
rolled toward the Union works, one after another, until they formed a
breastwork; and all the time not a head of a man could be seen. Then
other bales were brought forward and rolled on the top of the first
layer, and in this way the assailants had a defense that no bullet could
penetrate. Even the four or five pieces of light artillery which Colonel
Mulligan possessed could do but little against such a bulwark as this.

The first of these hemp breastworks was thrown up to the west of the
fort; another on the north, where it was partially sheltered by timber,
followed it very quickly. In the night they were pushed forward, so that
they were within very short range, and from the spaces between the bales
the rebels kept up a fire upon every Union head that was shown on that
side of the earthworks. It was a repetition of the trick of General
Jackson with the cotton bales of New Orleans in 1815.

There were several houses within range of the fort, and these were
speedily occupied by the rebels. Then from every rock, elevation, fence,
gully and tree bullets were steadily whizzing, the great numbers of the
rebels enabling them to keep their lines of attack fully manned at all
times.

Rations were growing short in the fortifications, and the men were worn
out with hard work and the necessity of being almost constantly on
duty. The stench from the dead animals within the lines was fearful,
and threatened to breed an epidemic; some of the Home Guards were
demoralized and wanted to surrender, but the commander refused to
entertain the idea of giving up the place.



CHAPTER XIX. SURRENDER OF LEXINGTON--PRICE’S RETREAT AND FREmont’s
advance.


|To the lack of ammunition and provisions, the stench of the dead
animals, the immense preponderance in numbers of the enemy, the
abundance of hemp with which the rebels could construct breastworks, the
beleaguered garrison had to face an additional horror--that of thirst.

As before stated, the fortification was at some distance from the river,
and within the limits of the fortification there were two cisterns,
which were soon exhausted, and just outside the lines were two springs,
which afforded a scanty supply, the rest being taken from the river. As
soon as the besiegers ascertained this state of affairs they proceeded
to cut off the supply of water, which they were able to do with their
greatly superior numbers.

All communication with the river was severed, and then a force was
posted in a position to fire on anybody who went to get water at the
springs. Men can fight under great privations of food and with short
supplies of ammunition, but they cannot fight against thirst. So
determined were the men to hold out, that during a heavy rain on the
second night after the siege began every tent and wagon cover was spread
to catch as much water as possible; in this way a great amount was
secured, and more was obtained by spreading blankets, and afterward
wringing them out.

Twice a white flag was raised on the ramparts without the authority of
Colonel Mulligan, and immediately hauled down as soon as he learned of
it. A third time it was raised, also without his authority; but when he
considered the sufferings of his men and found there was no prospect
of relief, he consented to surrender, and negotiations were begun
immediately. Unconditional surrender were the terms demanded by the
besiegers, and under the circumstances the besieged were forced to
accept them. They piled their arms and handed over their colors. Colonel
Mulligan wept as he gave up his command, and many of his men fairly
rolled on the ground in their rage at having been defeated. But it was
practically impossible that they could hold out any longer, and the
surrender was certainly in the interests of humanity.

The losses were less than might have been expected in a fight that
lasted from the eleventh to the twentieth of September, though it must
be remembered that for the first few days it was not very energetically
pushed by the besiegers. The water supply was cut off on the seventeenth
and from that time to the twentieth the garrison had no water beyond
what they caught in blankets, tents and wagon-covers in the rain that
has been mentioned. Less than two hundred were killed and wounded on the
Union side, and about the same number on that of the rebels. Each side
claimed to have inflicted a greater loss on the enemy than it sustained
itself, a circumstance which has been more or less intimately connected
with warfare since the world began.

[Illustration: 151]

Immediately after the surrender the rebels swarmed around the prisoners,
and while some treated them kindly, others heaped abuse upon them, and
if the Unionists had not already laid down their arms there would have
been a good prospect of a renewal of the fight. The prisoners were
paroled not to take up arms against the Confederacy until regularly
exchanged, and then they were set across the Missouri river and marched
to a point near the Hannibal and St. Joseph Railway and told to go where
they pleased. During this march they were in charge of General Rains and
his brigade, and most of them testified to the kindness of the soldiers
of Rain’s Brigade and of the people along the road they traveled.

After the surrender Lexington was a lively place. With nearly thirty
thousand victorious rebel soldiery in the town, and many of these
soldiers filled with whisky, in addition to being flushed with victory,
the streets were anything but quiet and orderly. The officers of the
Confederates were gentlemanly enough, but as for the soldiers they were
anything but well-behaved. It required all the authority of the officers
to keep the men from breaking loose and setting the town on fire or
committing some other folly or barbarity. In some instances it became
necessary to order the men out of town and form camps three or four
miles away, which no one could leave without express permission.

There was the same lack of uniforms that had characterized the troops at
Wilson’s Creek, only a few hundreds of all the army under General Price
having been able to obtain the Confederate gray. Some of the generals
and colonels were uniformed, but many were not, and wore their civilian
dress, with cloth shoulder-straps to indicate their rank. Many of the
soldiers fought quite independently of all command, and took their
positions wherever they were best suited.

An eye-witness of the siege said that the mode of fighting was well
illustrated by something that came under his observation. There was an
old Texan, dressed in a buckskin suit and armed with a hunting-rifle of
the kind in use on the plains before the war. About seven o’clock every
morning this Texan used to go to the Confederate breastworks, carrying
his dinner in a tin pail. He hunted around for a good position till he
found one, and then he fired away whenever he saw a head until the sun
showed the meridian.

Promptly at noon he knocked off for an hour and ate his dinner. Then he
went to work again and kept at it till six o’clock, when he went home to
supper and to spend the night in peaceful sleep. Morning saw him at his
post again; and thus he continued at his daily task till the surrender
took place. There were a good many independent warriors of this sort,
and if they did not kill many of their adversaries it was because the
latter kept their heads out of range.

As soon as Lexington was surrendered Price turned his attention to
gathering supplies and recruits from the rich and populous counties
along the river. While he was engaged at this business, General Fremont
assembled an army at Jefferson City for the purpose of heading him off.
A portion of Fremont’s army marched from Jefferson City to Tipton and
Syracuse, while the balance was sent forward by railway to the same
point. It was intended to march from these points to Springfield and
reoccupy the place, which Lyon’s army had been compelled to give up in
August after the reverse at Wilson’s Creek.

At the same time the garrison of Rolla was strengthened, and a
column was ordered to move from that point to join the main force at
Springfield. This movement promised to give occupation to Jack and
Harry, who had been chafing at their inactivity while preparations were
in progress. True, they had scouting expeditions occasionally, but
as they did not succeed in finding any enemy, except in a very few
instances, there was not enough to make the life of the camp at all
exciting.

Movements were delayed by a lack of supplies and transportation, and
it was not till the middle of October that the Union forces took the
offensive. In the main column from Tipton and Syracuse, General Sigel’s
division had the advance; while the other commanders were waiting for
transportation Sigel scoured the country and picked up everything that
could be of use. His wagon-train when he started was one of the funniest
things of the kind ever known; there were some army wagons of the
regulation pattern, but there were more emigrant wagons, such as are
used by pioneers seeking new homes in the far West beyond the lines of
railway, and where steamboats are unknown.

Then he had stage-coaches, family-carriages, drays, hay-carts, in
fact all the kinds of vehicles known to that part of the country, and
whenever a pack-saddle was found it was taken along. And the motive
power was as varied as the vehicles to be moved; it comprised mules and
horses as a matter of course, and it also included oxen, and even cows
where the latter were found docile enough to be yoked or harnessed.
There was a rumor that some of Sigel’s men attempted to harness up a
drove of pigs; that they took the pigs along there can be no reasonable
doubt, but probably for some other purpose than breaking them in as
draft animals. However burdensome to carry a pig may be, he has never
been found a satisfactory beast of burden.

Before Fremont could get his army in motion, Price had taken the alarm
and evacuated Lexington. He was too wily to wait till his enemy could
get in front of him to cut him off, and the most that Fremont could hope
for was that Price would make a stand in the neighborhood of Springfield
and give chance for a battle.

Fremont did not encounter any enemy on his southward march until he
was in the neighborhood of Springfield. When within fifty miles of that
place he sent forward two companies of his body-guard, comprising about
one hundred and fifty men, under the command of Major Zagonyi, and
composed of most excellent materials for a cavalry squadron. The members
of the body-guard were from the best class of young men of St. Louis
and Cincinnati. From the completeness of the body-guard’s outfit and
the dashing appearance it presented, it was derisively known as the
kid-gloved regiment. It consisted of four companies of cavalry, and the
intention was to increase it to a full regiment of ten companies, an
intention never carried out. After the removal of Fremont the famous
organization was sent to St. Louis and disbanded.

Well, the body-guard got within eight miles of Springfield without
seeing the enemy, but at that distance from town it found a brigade of
infantry, with some cavalry, drawn up to receive them. Major Zagonyi
ordered a charge, and it was made in gallant style. It was like the
charge of the Light Brigade at Balaklava--it was magnificent, but it
was not war. The enemy was routed and the town was occupied only to
be abandoned as soon as night came on, for the very natural fear of
a surprise, which might easily have been disastrous to the seventy or
eighty men that remained of Zagonyi’s command, the rest having been
killed, wounded, or scattered in the fight. Fifteen were killed and
twenty-seven wounded, and fully fifty horses were killed or rendered
useless by reason of wounds and over-riding.

Jack and Harry discussed the affair, when the news reached them, with
the coolness and critical air of major-generals.

“What was the use of such a charge as that?” said Jack, with his eye
fixed on Harry as though he would pierce him.

“It was a splendid fight,” was the reply, “and did great credit to the
men that made it.”

“Nobody says it did n’t,” responded Jack; “but just look at the waste
of life, and nothing to show for it. The rebels were preparing to leave
Springfield; in fact, the two thousand that Zagonyi says he encountered
were only the rear-guard of Price’s army, and when our army came along
it could have occupied the town, as it afterwards did, without any
opposition. The lives of those soldiers were just thrown away, and it
is n’t the only time men have been sacrificed just to enable somebody
to show off.” Harry nodded assent, and the conversation shifted to other
topics.



CHAPTER XX. OCCUPATION OP SPRINGFIELD--ANOTHER BATTLE IMMINENT.


|Fremont’s army reached Springfield two days after the charge of the
body-guard, the rebels retiring as the advance of the column approached.
There was an amusing incident connected with the charge which may here
be related.

A corporal and half a dozen men became separated from the rest of the
body-guard and straggled into Springfield after the others had left.
While the corporal was undecided what to do, a flag of truce came in
from the rebels, asking a suspension of hostilities to permit the burial
of the dead.

The corporal received the flag of truce at the courthouse, and, on
learning the object of the visit, said he must consult his general,
who was lying down in an inner room of the building. He disappeared for
several minutes, and after a sufficient time had elapsed for a parley
with the imaginary general, he returned with the partial and conditional
approval of the request. He cautioned the officer bearing the flag of
truce not to approach a certain piece of woods near the scene of the
fight until word could be sent there that a truce had been arranged;
otherwise there would be danger of a collision between the troops, as
the general’s division was too much exasperated to be under control. He
said it would take not less than three hours to arrange the matter, and
meantime the burying party must remain away. The flag of truce departed,
and the corporal hastily summoned his men and decamped in the direction
which his chief had taken.

A ruse not unlike this was played by the colonel of a Kansas regiment
that was suddenly confronted while on the march through western Missouri
by a force four times its own strength. The colonel immediately deployed
his entire regiment into a skirmish-line and boldly advanced to battle.
The rebels naturally thought that when an entire regiment was deployed
as skirmishers there must be a good sized force behind it. They
retired carefully and in good order, the Kansas colonel pressing them
sufficiently close to give the impression that he was anxious for a
fight. By this ruse, which required a good deal of nerve to undertake, a
battle was avoided and the prestige of victory went to the Unionists.

The day after Fremont’s advance reached Springfield the column from
Rolla made its appearance, and went into camp just outside the town.
Jack and Harry were attached to the wagon-train as before, but with the
advantage in their favor that they were allowed to retain the horses
which had been given to them after the capture of the rebel captain,
and therefore they were able to see more of the country than under their
former circumstances. There had been no opposition on the march,
and therefore the trip from Rolla had been devoid of incidents of
importance. The boys went several times with scouting parties that were
sent out to examine the country, on both sides of the line of march, but
however much they wanted to get into a brush with the enemy they could
not find an enemy to brush with. All the men who sympathized with the
rebellion seemed to have gone to the rebel army, with the exception of
those who were too old for service.

But if the men were absent, the women were not; and what was more,
they were not slow, in most cases, to make known their feelings. They
denounced the “Yankees” and “Dutch” in the bitterest terms, taunting
them with robbing and killing honest people who were fighting in defense
of their homes; charging them with being cowards and hirelings, and
sometimes cursing them roundly in language altogether unfit for ears
polite or lips refined.

One day a woman poured upon Jack and Harry a volley of vituperation
that was delivered with such rapidity as to render fully half of it
unintelligible. Jack was at first inclined to anger, and started to
“talk back,” but Harry restrained him, and asked the woman if that was
all she had to say.

“All I’ve got to say?” she screamed; “no, I’ve got more to say; and that
is that you’re a pair of brainless boys that sense is wasted on.’T ain’t
no use talking to such babies without no more beards than the back of my
hand.”

“Did you ever read ‘Washington’s farewell address to his army, madam?”
 said Harry, with the utmost gravity depicted on his face.

“No; I don’t know nothing about it,” she replied. “Who’s he, I’d like
to know; one of your Dutch thieves, I s’pose?” and her voice came down a
note or two from its very high pitch.

“He was first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his
countrymen,” said Harry, with his mock gravity continued throughout.

“I s’pose he’s one of your Dutch generals or colonels,” retorted the
woman. “He’d better not come around here, or I ‘ll tell him what I think
of him and all his other Dutchmen.”

“He will not come, madam; I ‘ll take care that he does n’t. But in his
farewell address he remarked that there was nothing half so sweet in
life as two souls without a single thought, and two hearts that beets
and cabbages could not turn from their faithful allegiance.”

“What’s that got to do with us, I’d like to know,” said she. “He’d
better not come around here alone talking that way; but if he fetches
along his Dutch thieves, we can’t help ourselves. You’uns ought to go
home if you want to save yourselves from killing, for the Southern men
won’t leave one of ye alive.”

“That is what I was saying to my friend here,” responded Harry; “and now
that we’ve had our call, we ‘ll take your advice and go.”

Away they rode, and had a good laugh as soon as they were out of sight
of the house. Jack admitted that Harry had shown good sense in making
light of the vituperation they received, and said he would follow the
same plan in future.

“It’s no use trying to convert these people to our way of thinking,”
 said Harry, as they rode along on their way to rejoin the column.
“Argument is wasted on them just as it would be wasted on us. Nobody
could win us over to believe in secession, and why should we expect
these men and women, born and bred with slaves around them, to regard
slavery and what comes of it as we regard it.” Jack acquiesced in
Harry’s theory, and he further admitted that if he had been born in the
South and brought up there, it was fair to suppose that he would have
believed in state-rights and the other principles that the Southern
leaders had advocated since the formation of the republic.

After the arrival of the column at Springfield and its junction with
the forces of General Fremont, there was a prolonged halt to wait for
supplies for the army, preparatory to a further advance into the enemy’s
country. The rebels fell back toward the Arkansas line, and it was
reported that a force was advancing to join them from Arkansas, when
they would be ready to meet us. Scouting parties were sent out, and
ascertained that there was practically no enemy within fifty miles,
the rebel army being concentrated at Cassville, where they waited the
reinforcements mentioned. The country far beyond Wilson’s Creek was
entirely safe, only a stray scouting party of rebels having been seen
for several days.

Jack and Harry obtained permission to visit Wilson’s Creek and the
battle-ground from which they had been driven eleven weeks before. “The
thing that impressed us most,” said Jack, in his letter to his father,
which he wrote the evening afterward, “was the absolute stillness of the
place in contrast to the roar of artillery and the crash of the small
arms on the day of the battle. There was no sound whatever to break it,
except the occasional chirping of a bird or the rippling of the creek,
except our own voices and the breaking of the twigs under the feet of
our horses. At every step we took we could not help contrasting the
cool autumn morning with that hot day in August when shot and shell
and bullets were flying all around and the sound of the cannon was like
rapid peals of thunder.

“My horse stumbled over something in the grass, and I looked down to see
what it was. It was a human skull on which his foot had fallen, and the
skull turning had caused him to stumble as he did. A few feet away lay
the dismembered skeleton to which the skull evidently belonged. It was
probably the remains of a soldier who had been wounded and crawled under
a tree for shelter and died there, as the spot was among the trees, and
away from the beaten track. There were bits of cloth scattered over the
ground, and it was evident that birds or wild animals had been at work
there; and also upon another skeleton a little further on, which was
disturbed and scattered like the first.

“On the battle-field there were numerous graves, that showed how
severe had been the carnage; some were single graves, while others
were sufficiently broad to contain a dozen or more bodies. Fragments of
weapons, pieces of the broken wheel of a gun-carriage, and of the shell
that destroyed it, were lying all around, and the trees everywhere were
seamed and scarred by bullets. Then there were skeletons of horses lying
where the animals fell, and these had also been the prey of birds or
animals, to judge by the general aspect of dismemberment.

“We looked for the spot where General Lyon fell, and found it marked by
an inscription carved upon the nearest tree. A farmer living near the
battle-field came out to show us around, and he told us that the rebel
soldiers cut off the glossy mane and tail of General Lyon’s horse and
divided it among them, to wear as badges of honor or send home to their
friends. Then they took away the teeth and bones as souvenirs of the
fight, and when these were exhausted the teeth and bones of other horses
were secured as relics of the general’s favorite steed.

“We rode over and around Bloody Hill and then descended to the valley of
the creek, where the rebels had their camp on the morning of the battle.
Here there were more traces of the conflict in the shape of the ashes of
the wagons that were set on fire at the time of Sigel’s attack, and
the bits of iron which the fire could not consume. And all the time the
stillness impressed us so much that it was almost painful.”

They returned to Springfield by the Fayetteville road, having gone to
the battle-field by the route which was followed by General Lyon.

The next day there was a rumor that the rebels had been reinforced and
were advancing. A battle could be looked for very soon, and the whole
camp was in a state of excitement.

On the morning of the second of November the scouts brought positive
information that the rebels were advancing, and the next day it was
reported that they were camped on the old battleground at Wilson’s Creek
and would fight there. The general officially announced it, and gave
orders for an advance on the following day.

The army was ready to move, pickets were doubled and grand guards
increased, and a battery of four guns was placed on the Fayetteville
road to greet the enemy if he chose to come on. Jack and Harry slept
that night with their horses saddled; their sleep was more in theory
than practice, as they were so excited that they hardly closed an eye
during the night.



CHAPTER XXI. ARMY SCOUTING--REFUGEES AND THEIR SUFFERINGS.


|For some time there had been rumors that General Fremont was about to
be removed from the command of the Western Department. It was said that
the authorities at Washington were greatly dissatisfied with the way
he had managed affairs, and thought he gave more attention to making a
grand display than in pushing operations against the enemy. Rumors of
the impending change grew more and more numerous, and finally, on the
second of November, General Fremont was officially notified of his
removal from command and the appointment of General Hunter in his place.

Then on the third came the report that the enemy was in force at
Wilson’s Creek, and the plan of battle was formed. But the arrival of
General Hunter at midnight caused the order for the troops to march at
daybreak to be countermanded, and so the army did not move out to fight,
greatly to the disappointment of our young friends.

It was fortunate for Fremont’s reputation that the army did not make
the proposed march, as the fact would have been revealed, which was
discovered next day by a reconnoitering party which General Hunter sent
out, that there was not a rebel camped on the old battleground or any
where near it. A scouting party of about fifty men had been in the
neighborhood, but they did not remain an hour; they had simply satisfied
themselves that the Union army was still in Springfield, and then
returned to their army at Cassville.

[Illustration: 163]

“How could General Fremont have been so deceived?” was the very natural
inquiry of Jack when it became known exactly how little foundation there
was for the report of the near presence of the enemy.

“He was deceived by his scouts, I presume,” said Harry. “Suppose we ask
one of our friends, who ‘ll know more about it.”

So they referred the matter to one of the soldiers attached to the
commissary department, and the latter explained as follows:

“You understand,” said he, “that a general must depend a good deal on
what his scouts tell him, and to avoid being deceived by them he is
compelled to use a great deal of judgment. There are three classes of
scouts: those who are really brave, cool and truthful; those who intend
to be honest, but are timid and credulous, and lastly those who are born
liars and boasters. The first are not always to be had, and at best
are scarce, and so a general’s scouting force is largely made up of the
second and third classes. The second class get their information from
the frightened inhabitants, and the fifty or so that composed the
scouting party of rebels which came as far as ‘Wilson’s Creek were
easily magnified into five or ten thousand; the imagination and fears
of the scouts doubled the numbers given by the inhabitants, and thus
the fictitious army was created. As for the liars and boasters, they are
always, if their stories could be believed, doing prodigies of valor and
whipping ten or twenty times their number of the enemy.

“What they principally do is to scare the people through whose country
they ride, and many of them are not above plundering after a fashion no
better than downright robbery. Generally they are in no hurry to meet
the enemy face to face, but confine their scouting to places that are
entirely safe.”

The soldier knew what he was talking about. Among Fremont’s followers
were several men of this sort with the rank of captain or lieutenant,
and several who were unattached to any command and had an air of mystery
about them. One of them used to ride out of camp about sunset as though
bent on an important mission. He would return in the morning with a
thrilling story of a night’s ride, in which he had several times been
fired upon by rebel scouting parties, and had used his revolver with
such effect as to leave five or perhaps ten of his enemies dead upon the
ground.

The fact was he went only a mile or two, and there spent the night at a
farmhouse, having previously informed himself as to the entire safety of
the place.

Another so-called scout was a forager whose equal is rarely to be seen.
Whenever the army went into camp he would take half-a-dozen companions
and start on a foraging expedition, from which he returned with a varied
assortment of things, most of which were utterly unsuited to the uses of
an army in the field and had to be left behind. One day he brought back
a wagon drawn by two oxen and two cows, and with a horse attached behind
it. Inside the wagon he had a pair of bull-terrier pups about three
months old, a hoopskirt, and other articles of the feminine wardrobe,
a baby’s cradle and also a grain-reaping one, a rocking-chair, some
battered railway-spikes, three door-mats and a side-saddle. Another
time he returned with a family carriage drawn by a horse and a mule, and
containing a litter of young kittens without the mother-cat, a bird-cage
with a frightened canary in it, an empty parrot-cage, several bound
volumes of sermons by celebrated English divines, and a box of
garden-seeds.

This same scout got into trouble afterwards in a queer sort of a way.
While on a foraging tour at one time he secured a lot of ready-made
clothing, which he found in a trunk where some salt belonging to the
rebel authorities had been stored. The quartermaster refused to receive
the trunk and contents, and so the captain carried it to St. Louis and
took it to the hotel where he temporarily stopped.

It so happened that some detectives were hunting for a suspected thief,
who was said to be stopping at the hotel. They got into the captain’s
room by mistake and searched his trunk while he was absent; they did
not find the articles they sought but they did find thirteen coats of
different sizes, without any waistcoats or trousers to match. This was
considered such a remarkable wardrobe for a gentleman to carry, that
they did not hesitate to arrest him on general principles. He was locked
up over night and did not succeed in obtaining his liberty until the
quartermaster could be found to show that the goods were not stolen, but
were simply the spoils of war.

Immediately after his removal, General Fremont, who had been in command
just one hundred days, returned with his staff to St. Louis, and the
army was ordered back to the line of the railway. On the ninth of
November it evacuated Springfield, which was soon after occupied by
General Price, and the second campaign of the Southwest was over.
General Hunter remained only fifteen days in command and was succeeded
by General Halleck, who proceeded to undo pretty nearly everything that
Fremont had established.

Late in November Jack and Harry found themselves once more in Rolla,
where a part of the army of the Southwest went into winter quarters. The
rebels were content to remain in Springfield, though they sent scouting
and foraging parties at irregular intervals to scour the country between
those two points and gather whatever supplies could be obtained.
The commander at Rolla also sent out similar expeditions, which were
frequently accompanied by our young friends, and thus each army was
fairly well informed as to what the other was doing.

The retirement of the Union forces gave the rebels great encouragement,
and they pushed their recruiting through the interior country with great
activity. They threatened to capture St. Louis, at least in words, and
so loud were their promises that many of their sympathizers believed
them.

During January, 1862, the camp at Rolla was increased by the arrival
of troops from Illinois, Iowa and Kansas, and it was evident that the
spring was to open with another campaign. General Samuel R. Curtis
arrived and took command, transportation was cut down as much as
possible, stores were accumulated and sent forward as far as the
Gasconade river, a cavalry division under General Carr was pushed
forward, and by degrees the country was occupied to within fifty miles
of Springfield, where Price’s army was known to be in force. It was
ascertained that McCulloch’s army had gone into a winter camp at Cross
Hollows, in Arkansas, and would probably move north in the spring to
join Price, or in case of a Union advance would wait where it was until
Price could fall back to that position.

Among the regiments that came to Rolla was the Ninth Iowa, which
contained several officers and many men of the First Iowa, which had
been mustered out of service after its return from Wilson’s Creek, its
time having expired. Its colonel, William Vandever, was assigned to the
command of a brigade, so that the control of the regiment fell to its
lieutenant-colonel, F. J. Herron, who had fought at Wilson’s Creek as a
captain in the First Iowa.

Jack and Harry were overjoyed to see so many of their old acquaintances,
and at the request of Colonel Vandever the two youths were turned over
to his care. They had made such a good record in their scouting services
during their stay at Rolla, that Colonel Vandever, whom we will now call
general, as he was shortly afterward promoted to that rank, decided to
make use of them as scouts and orderlies whenever occasion offered. They
were allowed to retain their horses, of which they had taken excellent
care. The animals showed much attachment to their young masters, and
evidently were quite reconciled to serving under the Union flag instead
of the rebel one, beneath which they were captured.

Orders to advance were impatiently waited, and at last they came. Early
in February the army of General Curtis moved out of Rolla with drums
beating and trumpets sounding, and every indication of a determination
to push on to victory. Sixteen thousand men, in the proper proportions
of infantry, artillery and cavalry, composed the force which was to
carry the flag across the borders of Missouri and into the rebellious
state of Arkansas.

But before we follow the army of the Southwest and make note of its
fortunes, let us briefly turn our gaze elsewhere.



CHAPTER XXII. A GENERAL ADVANCE--A SCOUTING PARTY AND WHAT CAME OF IT.


|Careful students of the war did not fail to see that there was a
systematic advance along the whole line from Virginia to Missouri during
the early part of February, 1862. During the winter work on the gun-boat
fleet had been vigorously pushed and many steamboats purchased or hired
as transports. As fast as the ironclads were ready to move they were
sent to Cairo, Illinois where the transports were assembled and vast
amounts of stores had been accumulated. General Grant was in command at
Cairo, and that aqueous town was a vast encampment. At the same time the
army at Rolla had been strengthened, as we have already seen, and the
movement of each force was practically simultaneous.

Nor was this all. From Washington the army moved into Virginia, and the
checkered campaign of 1862 began. Then a fleet and an army went down the
Atlantic coast and captured New-Berne, North Carolina, and farther down
the coast there was an aggressive move against Charleston. Then at the
mouth of the Mississippi a fleet of war ships appeared, backed by a
fleet of transports carrying a land force ready to occupy and hold
whatever the fleet secured. In Kentucky the Army of the Ohio occupied
Bowling Green, and prepared to move upon Nashville.

The first success along the whole line of attack was when on the sixth
of February the fleet under Admiral Foote bombarded Fort Henry and
compelled its surrender. Then followed the attack on Fort Donelson, when
General Grant “moved immediately upon the works” of General Buckner and
took him a prisoner, together with all those of his garrison that could
not escape. The whole North was in a blaze of excitement as the news was
published in the papers, which appeared in the form of “Extras,” with
a great many lines of heading to a very few lines of news. Such a
sensation had not happened since the battle of Bull Run, in the previous
year--and, unlike that of Bull Run, the story was one of victory and not
of disaster.

The effect of the news in a city like St. Louis, whose population was
divided in sentiment, was a curious study to the outsider. A man’s
sympathies could be known half a block away by the expression of his
face and the air with which he greeted his friends. If he was for the
Union his head was high in the air and his countenance showed him to be
“smiling all over;” but if he sympathized with the rebellion, his steps
were sad and slow and his head was downcast, as though he had lost a ten
cent piece or a diamond ring, and was on the lookout to find it. There
was no occasion to ask a man how he felt; the subject was too momentous
to permit him to conceal his thoughts.

When the newsboys appeared with the extras they were eagerly patronized
by the Union men and as eagerly repelled by the Secessionists. One boy
had the temerity to enter the store of a noted Secessionist and shout
in stentorian tones, “‘Ere’s yer extra; all about the capture of Fort
Donelson!”

That boy soon had reason to believe that his presence was not desired
there and his wares were unwelcome. He sold no papers in that store, and
moreover he was ejected from it a moment after entering on the toe of a
number ten boot. His ejectment was no trifling matter as it carried him
quite to the edge of the sidewalk. He got up again, as though nothing
had happened, and went on with his business as usual.

It is sad to record that there was a great deal of drinking in St. Louis
over the result of Grant’s movement against Donelson. The Union men
drank in joy and congratulation, while the Secessionists did likewise
to drown their sorrow. In Chicago and other Northern cities the drinking
was more one-sided than in St. Louis, but the average to each inhabitant
was not greater.

It is said that on some of the dead-walls of Chicago the day of the
fall of Donelson a placard was posted to the effect that every man found
sober at nine o’clock in the evening would be arrested for disloyalty.
History does not record that there were any arrests in Chicago that day
for disloyalty. Whether there was anybody around at that hour capable of
making arrests is also without record.

Having thus taken a general survey of the field, we will return to Jack
and Harry, whom we left with the Army of the Southwest.

The army moved, as before stated, and encountered no opposition as it
advanced beyond the Gasconade river and occupied the town of Lebanon,
sixty-five miles from Rolla. Harry called Jack’s attention to the
desolation that seemed to prevail along the route, compared with what
the road was when they first saw it on the retreat from Wilson’s Creek.
Many houses had been burned, and many of those that escaped the torch
were without occupants. In every instance where inquiry was made it was
found that the burned or deserted house had been the property of a Union
citizen who had been driven away by his rebel neighbors or by scouting
parties from Price’s army.

The few people that remained were almost destitute of food, and it was
next to impossible to obtain feed for horses. The country had suffered
terribly from the ravages of war, and was destined to suffer still
further before the war ended. As long as the war lasted it was infested
by roving bands of guerrillas, although the regular armies of the
Confederacy had been forced much farther to the south. At first the
Secessionists encouraged the presence of these guerrillas, but after a
time they found their exactions so great that they would gladly have rid
themselves of their so-called “friends.”

The roads were bad and the march was slow, but in spite of the bad roads
and the wintry weather the army pushed forward resolutely. Jack and
Harry found themselves covered with mud at the end of every day’s march,
and as they were frequently sent with scouting parties away from the
road, their horses as well as themselves were pretty well used up when
night arrived; but they came out as lively as ever the next morning, and
the horses seemed to echo the words of their young masters, that they
were having a good time.

On one of their scouting expeditions they stopped at a house whose
owner boasted that he had built it himself and lived in it for seventeen
years, and though it wasn’t equal to some of the fine houses in
Springfield or Lebanon, it was as good as he wanted. It was built of
logs, like the ordinary frontier dwelling, and consisted of a single
room, where the family of six persons lived, ate and slept. It had a
door but no window, and in order to have light in the daytime it was
necessary to keep the door open, no matter how cold the weather might
be. Near the house was a smaller one of the same sort, and this was
occupied by three negroes, the slaves of the owner of the place.

Harry found on inquiry that the man had bought these slaves from the
money he had saved by selling the produce of his farm, preferring to
invest in this kind of property rather than build a more comfortable
house, with glass windows and other luxuries. One of the slaves was cook
and housemaid, the second was the family nurse, and the third, a man
about fifty years old, attended to the stable and out-door work in
general. The master worked in the field with his colored property, but
he said that when he had “two more niggers” he would have all his time
taken up looking after them. Naturally he was in sympathy with the
rebellion, and did not believe in the Yankees and Dutch coming along and
setting the slaves free.

The black man watched for a chance to speak to one of the boys, and
after a little maneuvering he managed to do so without being seen by his
master.

“Ef you Linkum folks wants to find some rebs,” said the darkey to Harry,
with a grin, “I knows whar you ‘ll find’em.”

“Where’s that?”

“You jest go down dis yere road about a mile and you ‘ll find some of’em
with a wagon load o’ pork dey’s takin’ to Price’s army.”

“How many rebs are there with the wagon?”

“Dere’s six on’em--t’ree is on horses and t’ree in der wagon. Dey’s been
gettin’ dat pork round yar, and hain’t been gone more’n half an hour. I
knows dey’s going ter stop at der creek to fix one of de wheels, and you
‘ll find’em dar. Don’t let on wher yer found’em out.”

“Of course not,” was the reply. “We ‘ll keep you all safe. Now clear
out, and don’t look at us to see which way we go.”

There were six of them in the scouting party, and they were entirely
able to cope with the escort of the wagon. Harry slipped to the side of
the sergeant in command and said they’d better be off, and he would then
tell him why.

The sergeant then said to his men that it was time to be getting back,
and gave the order for mounting. At the end of the little lane where
the house stood they stopped for consultation, Harry telling what he
had learned, and suggesting, that in order to divert suspicion, they had
best start the other way and then suddenly turn about as though a new
idea had occurred to them.

The sergeant acted under Harry’s suggestion. The party went half-a-dozen
rods one way and then turned about and cantered slowly down the road in
the direction indicated by the negro.

“Steady, now, boys,” said the sergeant. “Don’t pump your horses, but
keep them fresh for a dash when we want to make it.”

So they went gently along, Harry keeping a little in advance to watch
out for the wagon of which they were in search. The road rose and fell
over the undulations of the ground, and when they had gone about a mile
it was evident that they were coming to a depression, which was probably
the bed of the creek.

Harry hugged the trees at the side of the road, so as to screen himself
from sight. His horse pricked his ears and evidently scented the
presence of other animals of his race.

A few more steps in advance and the wagon was in sight. It was standing
close to the creek, and the men were busy adjusting one of the wheels,
the three horsemen having dismounted and tied their steeds to some trees
a dozen yards away.

The sergeant gave the order to advance at a walk, and if possible get
between the men and their horses before the presence of an enemy was
discovered. As soon as they were seen they would go in with a dash.

They were not able to carry out the plan completely, but for all
practical purposes it succeeded. When the first of the rebel party saw
the advancing Federals they had not time to secure their horses. The
sergeant gave the order for an advance, and in the squad dashed, in fine
style.

[Illustration: 175]

The sergeant had told Jack to get hold of the saddle-horses the first
thing, and he did so. The rest of the party surrounded the wagon. The
rebels showed fight, but, taken at a disadvantage and with the carbines
of the cavalrymen aimed at them, they surrendered before any blood
had been spilt, but not without an exchange of shots, of which Harry
received one through the sleeve of his coat.

The prisoners were secured and marched back in the direction of the road
where the army was on its march. The wheel was speedily adjusted, and
then Harry mounted the box of the wagon and soon made the four mules
that comprised its team understand their duty. The captured horses were
led behind the wagon along with Harry’s horse. Without further adventure
the party reached the camp, and the pork intended for Price’s army found
its way down the throats of General Vandever’s soldiers.



CHAPTER XXIII. IN THE CAMP OF THE REBELS--CAPTURED LETTERS AND THEIR
CONTENTS.


|It was impossible to prevent news of the advance of the Union forces
being carried to General Price at Springfield. That astute commander
knew that he was in no condition to cope with an army of sixteen
thousand men, and so he wisely withdrew when certain that he would have
to fight if he remained. He left in haste and did not take time to pack
up all his correspondence, of which a considerable portion fell into the
hands of the invaders.

General Curtis had hoped to surround Price in Springfield and prevent
his retreat; he did surround the town on two of its four sides, but
left the other two wide open, and consequently Price was able to march
serenely and leisurely down the road in the direction of the Arkansas
line.

General Sigel was sent along a parallel road in the hope of heading off
Price, but the latter got wind of the movement and accelerated his own
speed so that heading off was out of the question. Then, too, his rear
was rather closely followed by General Curtis’s cavalry, so that the
rear-guard pressed against the column in front of it and urged the
retreat. General Sigel’s officers afterwards complained that they were
foiled in their heading-off attempt by the vigorous pursuit of the
cavalry that led the main column.

Jack and Harry were with a scouting party that visited the deserted camp
of the rebels close to the town of Springfield, and were much interested
in studying the buildings which had been erected for the use of
the troops. They consisted of log and board structures, and were
sufficiently numerous and extensive to accommodate ten thousand men,
in the way troops are lodged in barracks, without any overcrowding. The
log-houses were well chinked with mud and clay, and the board ones were
well built and comfortable; both kinds of buildings had floorings
of boards, and at one end of every house there was a chimney and a
fireplace.

“In some of the camps,” said Jack afterwards, in describing the place
to a friend, “the buildings seemed to have been dropped down hap-hazard,
without any effort at regularity, while in other camps they were
laid out into streets and lanes. Some of the streets had signs at
the corners, and of course the names were sure to be those of the
Confederate generals. The bunks were arranged in tiers, sometimes four
or five in a tier; some of the roofs of the buildings were covered
with rawhide, and we saw several chairs and sofas seated with the same
material.

“We thought by the looks of the place that they must have left in a
hurry. There was a dead pig lying on the ground with the knife still
sticking in his throat, and close by was a sheep hanging on a peg in the
side of a house, with its skin about half taken off. Dough was fresh in
the pans, and there were cooking utensils in considerable number, many
of them containing food wholly or partially cooked. They took away their
blankets, hardly one having been left behind. The sick men who remained
in camp said that there was a very short supply of blankets, and they
were sure the army would suffer greatly for want of proper clothing and
covering.

“I’m certain they left in a great hurry,” continued Jack, “or I would
n’t have this.”

As he spoke he drew from his pocket a gold watch, which he had found in
a bunk in one of the houses, evidently a house where the officers of
a regiment were lodged. It was a pleasing souvenir of the visit to the
camp, and Jack said he hoped to carry it home to show to his friends in
Iowa.

“And what did you find, Harry?” said one of the listeners, turning to
the other of our young friends.

“There were no gold watches, or even a silver one, in any bunk that
I examined; but I found this, which was quite likely a treasured
possession of its former owner as much as was the watch to the man who
left it behind for Jack to pick up. But it would n’t sell for as much;
in fact, I don’t think it would bring any price at all in the market, as
it’s only a bundle of love-letters.”

Then he read some of the letters aloud, to the great amusement of the
entire party. It is a fact worthy of record that anybody’s love-letters
are amusing, and generally silly, to all except the one person for whom
they are intended and the other person who writes them.

The love element was not stronger than the devotion of the fair writers
to the cause of the South. One of them urged her lover to stay with
the army and fight till the last slave-stealing Yankee was put out of
existence and the triumph of the Confederacy was assured. “And you
won’t have long to stay,” she added, “as we hear the northern people are
starving, and all of them are fast getting sick of the war. They won’t
be able to hire any more Dutchmen to fight for them, and when they can’t
hire Dutchmen the war will stop and the South will be independent.

“I know I can trust you when you get among the northern women,” she says
in conclusion; “and am sure you won’t forget me and fall in love with
one of those ill-looking, wheezing, whining, ignorant creatures. That’s
what Johnny Scott says all the Yankee women are like, and he’s been
North three or four times, you know.”

“Poor, dear, confiding girl,” said Harry. “I’m afraid Johnny Scott
wanted to make her mind easy about her far-off sweetheart, and so
invented this charming fiction about the northern lasses. How her eyes
would be opened if she could take a run through the cities and country
towns all the way from the state of Maine to the Missouri river and see
the thousands and thousands of pretty faces that could be seen there.”

To judge by the passages of the letters giving the news and rumors
concerning the progress of the war, it was evident that the most
astounding stories of the prowess of the southern soldiers and the
cowardice of the northern ones were in active circulation. The latter
had been defeated over and over again, and generally ran at the first
fire; sometimes they even ran before a shot was fired, and gave the
enemy the victory without spilling a drop of blood.

There was an amusing juxtaposition of paragraphs, one of which said the
Yankees were being driven back everywhere as fast as they could be met,
and the other saying they were pushing down into the South all the time
“further and further.” Evidently the writer of the letter was puzzled at
this, for she says:

“I asked Colonel Jones that if we were whipping the Yanks all the time,
how it was they kept coming further down South as fast as we whipped
them. He said a woman could n’t understand war; he could excuse my
asking such a question, but if it had been a man that asked it he would
have arrested him for a Yankee spy. Of course I am aware, Charles, that
I don’t know anything about war, and I wish you’d write me something,
so that I can talk understandingly. I think I can guess it; the southern
generals want to entice the Yanks down into the South, and when they get
ready to kill the whole lot, none of them can get away.”

This was the explanation given on several occasions by the rebel leaders
in reply to inquiries as to the reasons for certain retirements of the
rebel troops. A letter from Colonel Thomas H. Price, of General Price’s
staff, was among the correspondence captured at Springfield. It had been
left behind by the general in his hasty departure. This letter was dated
at Memphis, January sixth, and contained, among other information, the
following:

* * * I shall start in the morning for Richmond. I have not the least
wish or curiosity to go, but Major Anderson and Colonel Hunt, of the
Quartermaster and Ordnance Departments, advise to go immediately there.
I tell everybody who mentions your retreat that you only moved your camp
to be more convenient to forage, etc.

There were many other letters which the rebel general left behind in his
flight that were of special interest to the union commanders, as they
revealed the methods of recruiting and gathering provisions in the
Confederate states. There was a complaint that the governor of Arkansas
had placed an embargo on the shipment of pork, corn and other produce to
New Orleans, on the ground that it would all be needed for feeding the
Arkansas troops in the field. One man said he had bought twelve thousand
pounds of pork to ship to New Orleans, and on which he expected a
handsome profit, but owing to the action of the governor he was unable
to sell a pound of it.

This was agreeable news to the union commanders, as it went far to
insure a good supply of provisions in any movements the Army of the
Southwest might make in Arkansas. Various letters gave the strength
of the rebel forces at different points, and altogether a good deal of
information was obtained from the captured correspondence.

The rebels had established a foundry and armory at Springfield. In the
former they were casting shot and shell for the use of the artillerymen,
and in the latter small arms were being repaired and cartridges made
for the infantry, while swords were fashioned and put in serviceable
condition for the cavalry.

Several buildings were filled with provisions, one large one being quite
untouched. The reason why the torch was not applied to these storehouses
and their contents will be seen later on.



CHAPTER XXIV. A RAPID PURSUIT--“THE ARKANSAS TRAVELER”--GAME CHICKENS
AND COCKING MAINS.


|The union army followed closely after the rebel one, and for more than
a hundred miles the chase was continued. Sometimes the advance of the
pursuers was not more than a mile or two from the rear of the pursued. A
retreating army always has the advantage, as it has a clear road, while
the advancing one must carefully reconnoiter the ground to prevent
falling into ambuscades. Then, too, the retreating force can forage
upon the country, where there is anything to be obtained in it, and by
clearing it of provisions and supplies of every kind make it a difficult
matter for the pursuers to feed themselves, unless by waiting for
the wagon-trains, which are always an encumbrance and hinder rapid
movements.

General Price did not stop to form ambuscades or otherwise engage the
advance of General Curtis, but kept straight on toward the southwest
till he formed a junction with McCulloch at Cross Hollows in northern
Arkansas. Cross Hollows is a curious sort of a place, and is well
described by its name. The rolling and hilly country is suddenly broken
by a series of ravines that spread out from a common center like the
rays of a star. Ravines in this part of the country are generally known
by the more prosaic name of “Hollows,” and the crossing of the hollows
gives the name to the locality.

The main road from Springfield to Fayetteville and the southwest
traverses the center of the hollows. A short distance before reaching
the hollows it crosses a fine stream of water, which bears the name of
Sugar Creek. The water of Sugar Creek is pure, like that of a mountain
brook. In its shallow parts it is without color, but wherever it attains
a depth of thirty inches or more it is deeply tinged with blue. This is
the character of the streams generally through that section of country,
and when one looks down from a height upon the valley of one of these
streams the effect of the pools of blue alternating with the white water
of the shallow portions and the green of the enclosing banks forms a
very pretty picture.

Down to that time none of the union forces in southwest Missouri had
ever crossed the line into Arkansas. General Vandever’s brigade was
leading the advance of the infantry column, a half mile or so behind the
cavalry, and Jack and Harry were as far in front as they were permitted
to go. When the head of the column reached the line a halt was
ordered, the regiments were closed up, and preparations were made for
commemorating the invasion of the seceded state in an imposing manner.

For some days the bands had been practicing the music of “The Arkansas
Traveler,” one of the far-seeing officers of the staff having supplied
the leaders with the score. After the column had been halted two of the
bands were brought forward and stationed on each side of the road, where
a post marked the boundary between Missouri and Arkansas. When all
was ready the bands started up “The Arkansas Traveler,” and with their
rifles at right-shoulder shift, and in column of fours the infantry
filed past. As each company crossed the frontier a loud cheer was given,
and the greatest enthusiasm prevailed. To add to the good spirits of the
men the news of the fall of Fort Donelson reached them and spread like
wildfire on their first night in camp on the soil of Arkansas.

Price and McCulloch united their forces at Cross Hollows and made a
stand against the union advance, though evidently not a serious one, as
there was only a slight skirmish, after which the rebels retired in
the direction of Fayetteville twenty-two miles further on. The cavalry
division pursued them to that point, but the infantry halted at Cross
Hollows. Even at Fayetteville the rebels did not feel strong enough to
make a fight, but continued their retreat after a short resistance over
the Boston Mountains in the direction of Fort Smith, where for a long
time the United States government had formerly maintained a military
post.

The rebels had accumulated at Fayetteville a considerable supply of
bacon, corn and other materials for feeding their army, and when our
troops arrived most of the storehouses containing these supplies were on
fire. It was afterward ascertained that the burning of these storehouses
had been the cause of a serious dispute between Price and McCulloch--a
renewal of their quarrel at the time of the Wilson’s Creek campaign.

Price wanted to leave these supplies for the use of the union army, and
he argued as follows: We’ve got to retreat, and the union army is going
to stay here till we drive them out. They are in our country, and more
than two hundred miles from their base. They will forage on the country
for a large part of their supplies, and if we leave this bacon and corn
they will have just so much less to take from the people, who are our
people, and not theirs. Arkansas is a seceded state, and the Yankees and
Dutch won’t have any compunctions about living on the state that they
might have in Missouri, which they claim to be still in the union, and
are trying to keep there. The easier it is for them to find their living
the easier it will be for Arkansas.

On this line of argument Price opposed the destruction of the supplies.
McCulloch opposed his view of the matter, and said it was no part of
their business to help feed the Yankee army, and what happened to the
people was simply the fortune of war. The quarrel reached its height and
came near a fighting point when McCulloch accused Price of disloyalty to
the South and a willingness to see Arkansas subjugated by the Northern
troops.

Price was overruled and the stores were set on fire. His prediction was
verified, as the union forces foraged right and left among the people,
and certainly caused them much more hardship than would have been the
case had the supplies fallen into our hands. Which of them was right in
the argument the reader may decide for himself. Certainly the question,
like most matters on which men differ, had two well-defined sides.

McCulloch’s army had spent the winter at Cross Hollows, where it erected
buildings capable of lodging eight or ten thousand men. When the rebels
retired from Cross Hollows these buildings were set on fire, and by the
time our troops arrived all but half a dozen of them had been consumed.
The ashes remained to mark the spot, and the positions of the smoking
ash-heaps showed that the cantonment was laid out with the regularity of
a carefully-platted town.

[Illustration: 187]

The Third Illinois Cavalry, which was attached to General Vandever’s
brigade, followed closely upon the heels of the enemy after the skirmish
at Sugar Creek, and pushed on in the direction of Fayetteville. A single
company was retained by the general for scouting purposes, and to this
company Jack and Harry were temporarily attached. The youths were among
the first to enter the rebel cantonment and try to save what they could
from the flames.

Harry’s sharp eyes fell upon some chickens, of which a hundred or more
were running wildly about the place.

The slaughter of the innocents began at once; chickens were not abundant
in that part of the country, and Harry thought a fine fowl would be very
welcome at the general’s mess-table that evening, and he was also of the
opinion that a similar bird would taste well for himself and Jack.

He secured two, and remarked to Jack that they were the thinnest birds
of the kind he had yet come across. “But they’re chickens, anyhow,” said
he, “and if they’re too tough for broiling they will do well in a stew.”

Jack was equally fortunate in his chicken hunt, but his second bird was
a surprise that caused his eyes to open very wide.

“Just look at this,” said he to Harry, as he pointed to the legs of the
fowl; “wonder what this means?”

The objects that arrested his attention were a pair of steel “gaffs” as
sharp as needles, and attached by straps and cords to the legs of the
chicken; they were hollow at the base, so that they passed over the
natural spurs of the bird.

“I never saw anything like this,” said Jack, “and don’t believe it grows
there.”

“Nor I either,” replied Harry. “Here comes the general; let’s show it
to him and find out what it’s all about.”

Jack ran to General Vandever and exhibited his discovery. The latter
immediately ordered the slaughter of the chickens to cease, and it was
stopped at once, but not till two-thirds of the number about the camp
had fallen.

“These are game cocks,” said the general, “and they’re kept for fighting
purposes. I heard that the Third Louisiana had a lot of game cocks,
and were keeping them here for amusing themselves. They come from a
chicken-fighting region, and this is one of their favorite sports. They
get up matches, on which they bet heavily, and then the fighting-cocks
are equipped with these spurs or gaffs, and put in the ring against
each other. The bird that can first pierce the other with these gaffs
generally wins the fight, as a well-directed blow with them is fatal.

“Probably we interrupted a fight,” the general continued. “This bird was
certainly all ready for the ring, and if you look around you ‘ll find
another similarly equipped and about to proceed to business.”

Sure enough, the antagonist of the bird was found in the hands of a
soldier; at any rate, there was another chicken with the gaffs on that
had been killed before his character was known. Game chickens are not
considered edible except in case of emergency. Those that had been
killed were, however, duly served up, as it was thought extravagant to
waste anything in the chicken line at that particular time. It was as
Harry had predicted, the chickens were not good for broiling, but they
did fairly well when stewed, especially when the stewing continued all
night.

The birds that were saved from slaughter were the source of much
amusement to the officers while the army remained in camp at Cross
Hollows. Almost every day there was a cock-fight in front of one of the
tents, but it was generally bloodless, as nobody knew anything about
handling the birds, and the steel gaffs were never used. The names
of the rebel leaders were given to the fighters, and it was a common
occurrence to have Beauregard pitted against Jeff Davis, Price against
McCulloch, or Lee against Johnston. General Vandever turned two of
the birds over to the care of Jack and Harry. Harry’s pet was called
Magruder, and Jack’s received the fighting name of Breckinridge.

In the first encounter Breckinridge tore three feathers out of
Magruder’s neck and otherwise disabled him, so that Harry lost his
wager. But as betting in money was not in order, and the stakes
consisted only of army crackers, the youths’ losses were not heavy.

One after another the fighting-chickens went to the cooking-pots, as
they were not securely guarded and several of the officers had negro
servants. There is a traditional affinity between the negro and the
chicken, an affinity which results in the absorbing of the latter by
the former. Some of the negro servants were good foragers, and ran
considerable risk in their search for supplies, as we shall see later
on.



CHAPTER XXV. A RAPID RETREAT--AN EXPEDITION AND A FORCED MARCH.


|For two weeks after the army reached Cross Hollows it remained
apparently inactive, though really far from idle. Foraging expeditions
were constantly in motion, scouting parties were sent out in every
direction, and small forces of infantry and cavalry went to visit the
various villages and towns within a radius of fifty miles to the east
and west. Several times detachments of cavalry visited Fayetteville, and
made sure that the rebels had not reoccupied the place.

As already intimated the negro servants of the officers were active
in search of chickens and other articles of food. General Vandever
and Colonel Herron had as manager of their mess a negro named William,
generally abbreviated to Bill, who could scent a chicken at least a mile
away, and a concealed ham even though a load of hay had been piled on
top of it. In the same brigade was the Twenty-fifth Missouri, commanded
by Colonel John S. Phelps. The latter officer rejoiced in a negro
named Jake, and he and Bill went together almost daily in a hunt for
provisions. Not infrequently they ventured beyond the lines, and on two
or three occasions had narrow escapes from capture.

One evening Bill gave the following account of the day’s performance:

“Me and Jake went out for to find suthin’, and I says to Jake that
chickens was gettin’ mighty sca’ce round yere. We went out on a side
road off from de Fayetteville road, and while we wras at a house dere
and trying to find out if dere was any chickens in de chicken-house, and
if de man what owned de place was to home or not, we heern a noise.

“I looks out o’ de chicken-house, and down de road I sees some dust, and
in dat dust I sees two or free dozen rebs. I jest says ‘Rebs’ to Jake,
and him and me lit out o’ dat dere chicken-house and over behind der
barn and den we got out inter de road.

“De rebs dey comes up and stops at der house, and den me and Jake lit
out for camp. And yer jest ort to a-seen Jake run; dere nebber was a
nigger run like Jake did; he jest streaked it along ez if a tiger was
arter him, and mighty near cotchin’ him, too.”

Here Bill doubled himself up with laughing at the picture presented by
the swift-footed Jake. After laughing awhile he paused, and repeated his
belief that Jake was, “de runnin’est nigger dat eber was know’d.”

“Well, what did you do, Bill?” said the general, when the negro stopped
laughing long enough to permit the question to be edged in.

“Wot did I do? Wot do yer s’pose I did, Gineral? I jest retreated, fell
back, alongside o’ Jake, and got inter camp’bout five minutes ahead of
him.”

“And that’s the way of war,” the general remarked to the rest of the
party. “We retreat or fall back, but others run.”

Jack and Harry had a retreat of this sort one day when out in search
of a quantity of bacon that was said to be concealed in a barn several
miles away. They did n’t get the bacon, but they did get a brush with
a similar but larger party of the enemy, probably on the same baconian
intent. Being in the minority, the union squadron retired in good though
somewhat rapid order, which was doubtless described afterward by the
rebels who witnessed it as a dead run. Harry admitted as much to a
friend, but insisted that it was a retreat, and not a run for safety.

Rumors reached the army that the rebels had formed a camp about
twenty-five miles south of Fayetteville, and were receiving
reinforcements. The position at Cross Hollows was a strong one, and
in view of the reports from the front General Curtis did not care to
advance, and thus abandon his very desirable camp. With an abundant
supply of water, and with the natural advantages of the ridges that
bounded the hollows, and on which his artillery was planted, he thought
it best to wait there for the advance of the enemy rather than advance
to Fayetteville.

The front of the army was extended so that it covered a distance of
about five miles, the camps being pushed out to the south of Cross
Hollows and the wings extended both ways from the line of the main road.
General Sigel’s division was moved to Bentonville, several miles to
the west of Cross Hollows, in order to increase the opportunities of
foraging for supplies and also to guard the roads in that direction.
It was supposed that the advance of the main body of the enemy would be
along the main road, and only a small force would be sufficient to hold
the roads on the flanks. The rear of the union army was at Sugar Creek,
and the quartermaster’s train, heavily laden with supplies, was along
this creek and at Elkhorn Tavern, a country hotel, which derived its
name from a pair of antlers or elkhorns over the front entrance.

On the second and third of March several expeditions were sent out for
the purpose of collecting supplies and also of breaking up small camps
where the rebels were said to be recruiting. One of these expeditions
went in the direction of Pineville, Missouri, and arrived within half a
mile of the object of its search, when it received orders to return.
It got back to camp without meeting the enemy, but it was afterward
ascertained that it crossed the intersection of two roads only half an
hour before a rebel division reached that spot in sufficient force to
have completely overwhelmed the little detachment.

Another detachment which went to Maysville, near the western boundary
of Arkansas, was completely cut off and compelled to march northward to
avoid capture. A third expedition went to Huntsville, in Madison county,
to break up a rebel camp; but it failed of its mission, as the rebels
had left two days before it arrived there.

Harry and Jack accompanied this expedition, and therefore we have a
special interest in knowing how it turned out. We will let Harry tell
the story of their adventures.

“We were not a large party,” wrote Harry afterward; “only a thousand
men in all. There was a part of the Ninth Iowa and the Twenty-fifth
Missouri, two companies of cavalry and two pieces of light artillery
from the Dubuque battery. General Vandever commanded the expedition, and
we expected to be away four or five days.

“We were two days getting to Huntsville, where we found the rebels that
we were after had gone. Huntsville is an Arkansas county-seat of two or
three hundred inhabitants, and hardly an able-bodied man could be found
in the whole place; all were away fighting in the rebel ranks. The
principal store in the place was a whisky-shop, and the proprietor
claimed to be a union man. One of the officers, a captain, bought a
canteen of whisky of him, and offered a United States treasury note in
payment.

“The man took the note and looked at it carefully. Then he returned it,
saying he must have either gold or Confederate paper money.

“‘Isn’t this good enough?’ the captain asked.

“‘Good enough as long as you ‘uns are here,’ said the man; ‘but when you
turn your backs the other fellows would hang me if I had that kind of
money.’

“Nobody had any Confederate paper, and the captain didn’t know what to
do. He wanted the man’s whisky, as the weather was cold, but he knew the
fellow was right about getting into trouble for having our money.

“Another of the officers had been in the first expedition to
Fayetteville, and happened to have in his pocket a whole sheet of
private ‘shinplasters,’ or promises to pay, that he picked up in a
printing-office in that town. He took the sheet from his pocket and
asked if that was the kind of money the man wanted.

“‘Just the thing,’ said the whisky-dealer. ‘Give me one of them slips
and you can have a canteen of whisky for it.’

“The slip was cut from the sheet and handed over. The man’s attention
was called to the fact that it had not been signed, but he declared it
was just as good, and nobody would know the difference.

“Another and another and another were cut off, and finally the whole
sheet had been disposed of for canteens of bad whisky. Then
somebody fished out another sheet of the same sort of stuff, and the
whisky-dealer did a lively stroke of business as long as the paper
lasted. Probably he worked it off on his neighbors and suffered no loss
owing to the notes having been without signature.

“Well, we did n’t make many prisoners at Huntsville, but the few we did
make set us thinking pretty lively.

“We picked up four or five men of no particular consequence, and they
were examined apart from each other to make sure that they had not
patched up lies to tell us. Next we picked up two men who had left the
rebel army only twenty-four hours before, for the reason that they had
no weapons and were simply useless mouths to feed.

“They gave us the startling intelligence that the rebels were already
advancing to attack our army. They had left the camp about twenty-five
miles south of Fayetteville, but not until they actually saw the troops
marching out on the road to the north. They said there were thirty
thousand of the rebels, and they were commanded by General Van Dorn.

“General Yandever immediately sent off a courier with this information
to General Curtis, and very soon afterward he gave the order to return
to camp. We went about six miles and then camped, but before we had
been in camp an hour we had a courier from General Curtis with the same
information and ordering our immediate return.

“General Vandever,” continued Harry, “gave orders for us to start out of
camp at two o’clock and make a forced march to rejoin the main column.
Do you know what a forced march is?

“Well, it’s something pretty tough when you have to make it, as it means
a march without any rest until it is ended. We had forty-one miles to go
that day, and it took us from two in the morning until ten at night, but
we did it. It was n’t so bad for the cavalry and artillery, as they
had their horses, but it was terrible for the infantry. The word passed
along the lines that the enemy was on the road to attack us. General
Vandever had great fears that the rebels knew of our expedition and
would try to cut us off at the crossing of the White river, and so he
hurried on till he got the stream behind us. There was about three feet
of water at the ford, and to save the infantrymen from getting their
feet wet, and consequently sore, he crossed them over with the cavalry.
An infantry soldier jumped up behind a cavalryman and was soon on the
other side. Others climbea on the caissons of the artillery, and so by
two trips of the cavalry the whole force was crossed over with dry feet.

“We only halted for about fifteen minutes at a time, and three times in
all during that long day’s march. The infantrymen were completely tired
out when they got into camp, but they were ready for the battle the next
day, and they did good work, too, you may be sure.

“While we were on the march we met couriers that had been sent out by
General Curtis to tell us that fighting had already begun away on the
right of our line where General Sigel was. They also told us that we
should find the center or main position at Sugar Creek, where the shape
of the ground was such as to give us a better defensive position than
the one at Cross Hollows. General Curtis had decided to concentrate his
forces there as soon as he heard of the rebel advance, and the movements
of the various parts of the army had such a concentration in view.”

Not the least weary of these who took part in General Vandever’s
expedition on its return to camp were Harry and Jack. The noble-hearted
youths had done all they could to help along their comrades, and for
nearly half the way they had loaned their horses to footsore infantrymen
who were unable to keep up with the column. Harry declared that a little
exercise would do him good. Jack shared his kindly feeling, and walked
briskly along as though it was the greatest fun in the world. General
Vandever said they were a pair of Mark Tapleys, who could be jolly under
the most adverse circumstances.

When they were yet four or five miles from camp the general sent Harry
to give notice of the coming of the expedition and order a supper
prepared for the weary men. Harry took his horse from the man who had
been riding it, and darted away as fast as he could go. The men in camp
set to work with a will, and when the expedition arrived a supper as
good as the army rations could supply was ready and waiting. Harry
satisfied his own hunger and secured a good meal for Jack, who was not
long in swallowing it; the horses were fed and watered, and then the
pair of young veterans stretched themselves on the ground to get what
sleep they could before the breaking of day should be the signal for
battle.

While they are sleeping we will look at the organization of the two
armies, and the plans on which the battle of Pea Ridge was fought.

As before stated, the army of General Curtis was about sixteen thousand
strong when it started from Rolla, but the number had been reduced by
leaving a garrison at Springfield and by the other causes that always
reduce the strength of an army in the field, so that the aggregate of
effective men ready for battle was little if any above ten thousand. It
was in four divisions--the first being commanded by General Osterhaus,
the second by General Asboth, the third by General Jeff C. Davis, and
the fourth by General Carr. Some of these officers had not then received
their commissions as generals and were still known as colonels; but as
they all rose to the rank shortly afterward, it will be convenient and
not unjust for us to designate them by the higher titles, whose duties
they were performing.

Each division consisted of two brigades, but some of the brigades were
very small, and did not contain enough men for a full regiment. General
Sigel was in command of the first and second divisions, and thus held
the position of a field marshal, under the superior command of General
Curtis, the commander-in-chief. The infantry regiments that
were in the battle of Pea Ridge on the union side were the
Twenty-fifth, Thirty-fifth, Thirty-sixth, Thirty-seventh and Forty-fourth
Illinois, the Eighth, Eighteenth, and Twenty-second Indiana, the Fourth
and Ninth Iowa, and the Second, Ninth, Fifteenth, Twelfth, Seventeenth,
Twenty-fifth and a part of the Third Missouri; of cavalry regiments
there were the Third Iowa, the Third and Thirty-ninth Illinois, and the
First, Fourth and Sixth Missouri together with two battalions of Benton
hussars, and Major Brown’s battalion of cavalry, which served as a
body-guard to the general-in-chief. The artillery comprised about fifty
field-guns of various sizes, in four and six-gun batteries, from the
same states as were represented by the infantry.

The rebel army was commanded by General Earl Van Dorn, and its aggregate
was said to be not far from thirty thousand men. Van Dorn’s army was
composed as follows: Missouri troops, under Major-General Sterling
Price, about nine thousand; Arkansas, Louisiana and Texas troops, under
Brigadier-General Ben McCulloch, about thirteen thousand; Choctaw,
Cherokee, Chickasaw and other Indian troops, with two white regiments,
under Brigadier-General Albert Pike, about seven thousand. No exact
statement of the number of rebel troops in the battle has ever been
published, but the above-named figures are not far from the correct
ones. An officer of Price’s army wrote an account of the battle, which
was published in the Richmond _Whiff_. In this account he said the
rebels estimated their strength at thirty-five thousand, and making
all deductions for stragglers and the usual falling off on the line of
march, they had from twenty-five thousand to thirty thousand men to go
into action.



CHAPTER XXVI. VAN DORN’s ADVANCE--SIGEL’S MASTERLY RETREAT--THE BATTLE
BEGUN.


|Van Dorn had learned through his spies and the country people about the
strong front presented by General Curtis on the northern bank of Sugar
Creek and the hills that bordered it. He therefore made his plans for
attacking on the other side, going completely around to the rear and
placing himself between the union army and its base. With his great
superiority of numbers he felt sure of winning the battle, and in case
he did so the whole union force would be compelled to surrender, as it
would have no line of retreat. Possibly some of the cavalry and horse
artillery might get away, but this would be a small matter compared with
the capture of the whole of the infantry and the immense wagon-train.

In carrying out this plan Van Dorn left the main road about half-way
between Sugar Creek and Fayetteville, and moved by a side road which
is nearly parallel to the mam one. This side road passes through Osage
Springs and Benton ville, branching at the latter place in the direction
of Pineville, and connects with the main road near the Missouri state
line about eight miles further north. The men carried rations for four
days, and all were confident that by the end of that time they would be
living on the stores they were to capture from the union army.

At Bentonville, ten miles from the main camp at Sugar Creek, Van Dorn’s
advance encountered General Sigel’s command on the sixth of March, and
had a sharply-contested battle, though not a very destructive one on
either side. At first General Sigel supposed it was only a scouting
party that had advanced, but very soon the numbers increased so rapidly
that he saw it necessary to retreat. And just as the attack began he
received orders from General Curtis to fall back to Sugar Creek, and
consequently his movements had the double stimulus of obedience to his
superior and overwhelming numbers of the enemy.

The retreat was skilfully conducted, and was pronounced by impartial
students of the war a splendid display of military ability. Sigel sent
his train ahead and got it away safely; then he put the rest of his
forces in motion, holding the enemy at bay with a single battery of
artillery and about one thousand of his best infantry. As the enemy
advanced it was met with a vigorous fire of shot and shell from the
rapidly-worked guns, supported by the infantry. Half the battery was
used for this purpose, and while the advancing forces of the rebels were
thus checked and thrown into confusion, the rest of the battery was sent
ahead to take up a good position.

As soon as the report came that the other section was in position the
first would be limbered up and rapidly rushed on, the infantry fell back
to the support of the guns which were ready for their work, and then as
the enemy advanced the reception of a few minutes before was repeated.
Meantime the first section had taken up a new position; and, fighting
in this way, the retreat was brilliantly successful, and Sigel’s forces
joined those of Curtis before nightfall.

What made Sigel’s success all the greater was that the roads were in sad
condition, being cut up by recent rains, and all of them narrow. Much
of the country was wooded, and in some places densely so; but this
circumstance, while a disadvantage to the retreating force, was also
a hindrance to the assailing one, as they were liable to fall into
ambuscades unless they exercised great caution. Sigel’s loss in this
retreat was less than one hundred men altogether, and a good part of
these were captured by going on a wrong road and marching directly into
the enemy’s lines. During the night a battery of four pieces met the
same fate, and the incident was thus humorously described by one of the
rebel officers:

“It was a little after dark,” said he, “when our pickets heard and soon
saw a battery coming leisurely along the road. The sergeant in charge of
the picket took in the situation at once, and when the battery came up
to him he promptly challenged it. In the gloom of the night the captain
did not observe the gray uniforms, and thought himself among friends.

“‘We want to find General Asboth’s Division,’ said the captain.

“‘All right,’ replied the sergeant. ‘Keep along this road, and you ‘ll
find it on the left. I ‘ll send a man along to show you.’

“The captain thanked the sergeant and accepted the guide, who took the
battery into camp and quietly told the boys what was up. They gathered
around, and before they knew where they were the artillerymen were
snaked off their horses and told to surrender. The poor devil of a
captain was awfully down in the mouth when he found what a trap he’d
walked into.”

During the night of the sixth Van Dorn kept most of his men in motion,
so that by daylight he had stretched his line completely across the road
between the union army and its base at Springfield. General Curtis at
the same time was not idle, and changed his position, as we have before
stated, converting into the front what had formerly been his rear. This
compelled him to move all his wagons, excepting such as had already
fallen into the hands of the enemy, which, happily, were not numerous;
but it also compelled him to fight on ground that had no advantages for
him, as would have been the case on the Sugar Creek front; besides, it
was even better known to the rebels than to himself, as they had nearly
all the people of the country on their side.

This was the state of affairs when Harry and Jack returned from their
expedition with General Yandever. From a resident of the country they
learned that the ground where the union army was encamped was known as
Pea Ridge. Here was the force of General Curtis that was to fight
with nearly three times its number. It was a wooded table-land with
occasional openings, where the timber had been cleared away to make room
for fields. There was hardly any water upon it, and for the two entire
days of the battle few of the animals had an opportunity to drink. The
men also suffered severely, but as a supply could be taken from Sugar
Creek, at the rear of the camp, they were less badly off than the horses
and mules.

We will let Harry tell the story of the battle, which he did in an
account that he sent home, and was afterward delighted to see in print.

“Neither Jack nor I got much sleep last night, as we were all eagerness
to see how the next day was going to turn out; and even if we had been
sleepy, the noises that kept up all night long would have interfered
with us a good deal. Our men that had walked so far were allowed to
rest, but most of the other regiments were moved about so as to have
them in a good position for the day’s work, that was sure to be very
lively.

“Very soon after daylight the scouts came in and told General Curtis
that the country to the north, right along our road to Springfield,
was full of rebels, and they were advancing to attack us. The general
thought it would be a good thing to attack them first, or at all events
to meet them before they got close up to where we were.

“General Sigel was on our left with the divisions of Generals Osterhaus
and Asboth. It was reported that a heavy force of rebels were coming in
that direction, and so Sigel was ordered to meet them. He sent General
Osterhaus out for that purpose, and he reached the line on the road
running north from Bentonville without opposition. Just beyond the road
he encountered what was supposed to be a small body of rebels, who were
posted in a wood, and in order to drive them out he opened fire upon
them with three cannon. After a few rounds had been fired he ordered
the artillery to stop, and sent some cavalry to finish the fighting and
clear the wood.

“Well, the wood was cleared; but it was cleared the other way from what
had been expected. Instead of a few rebels there, it turned out that
‘the woods were full of’em,’ the place being held by Pike’s division
of white and Indian troops. The cavalry met a heavy fire of rifles,
shotguns and small arms of every kind, and the charge was completely
broken up; and not only was the charge broken up, but the rebels
followed the retreating cavalry, and in the confusion they managed to
capture the three cannon that had been shelling them.

“But they did n’t keep the cannon very long, for General Osterhaus
brought up his infantry and drove the rebels away. The white and red
rebels were busy plundering and scalping the men they had captured, and
were quarreling over the possession of the horses and saddles, and while
their attention was thus drawn away they were attacked and defeated. The
Indians and whites were all mixed up in this fight, and several of the
Indians were left dead on the ground, along with some Texans, who were
armed with big bowie-knives in addition to their firearms. The Texans
fought with these knives, and several of our soldiers were killed by
them.”

This statement was made at the time, and has been denied by the rebels.
In proof of the correctness of the assertion the following quotation
from a rebel account in the Richmond _Whig_ of April 9, 1862, ought to
suffice:

“About forty-five men lay in the space of two or three hundred yards to
the rear of the battery; all save one entirely dead, and all but three
Dutchmen. One was gasping in the agonies of dissolution; three were our
comrades. Here was a sterner feature of the war than any I had yet seen.
The Texans, with their large, heavy knives, had riven skulls in twain,
mingling blood and brains and hair. The sight was a sad one, but not
devoid of satisfaction to our own exiles from home and wife.”

Pea Ridge would seem to have been the scene of more barbaric fighting
than any other battle of the war, when we include the performances of
Texans and Indians; but in defense of the Texans it may be said that the
bowie-knife is really no more barbaric a weapon than the sword in
its mode of operation, whatever may be urged against the practice
of carrying it habitually. The wounds described by the writer in the
Richmond _Whig_ could easily be attributed to a cavalry saber and nobody
would think it out of the ordinary modes of warfare.

With the increase of civilization in Texas and the Southwest generally
since the war the bowie-knife seems to have gone out of fashion. Little
is heard of it nowadays, and as the state of Texas has a law imposing
a heavy fine for the carrying of concealed weapons, it is probable that
this famous implement will soon be forgotten altogether, and be seen
only in museums by the side of the tomahawk and scalping-knife.

“Why is it called the bowie-knife?” a youthful reader asks.

It is so called after Colonel Bowie, its inventor. His name has clung to
his knife just as that of Doctor Guillotin has adhered to the beheading
machine which he designed, and that of Colonel Colt to his revolving
pistol.



CHAPTER XXVII. THE FIGHTING NEAR ELKHORN TAVERN---HARRY’S EXPERIENCE
UNDER FIRE.


|Van Dorn’s movements were delayed by the obstructions on the roads
by which he moved. As soon as General Curtis became satisfied that the
rebels were trying to get around to his rear, he ordered General Dodge,
who commanded the fourth division of the army, to cut down trees along
the road leading north from Bentonville, and the order was instantly
carried out. General Dodge had been ill in his tent for three days, but
when the news of the approaching enemy reached him he was cured as if
by magic. Remarking that it was no time to be sick, he got out of bed,
assumed the active command of his division, and during the afternoon of
the sixth supervised the work of a large detail of men, who felled trees
across the road and otherwise blocked it to delay the rebel advance. He
kept at it until the rebel skirmishers began to fire upon his men, and
as he had orders not to bring on an engagement he prudently withdrew.

“General Dodge was a trump,” said Harry afterwards, when telling the
story of the battle; “sick in his tent and in the doctor’s hands before
the battle began, he was almost constantly in the saddle for three days.
When the battle was over and the enemy had retreated, he dropped to the
ground and went back to his sick-bed. It’s a good example of what a man
can do under excitement.”

“And there was another example of the same sort,” said Jack. “There was
Major Post, of the Thirty-seventh Illinois who became General Philip
Sidney Post, and served gallantly in a good many battles. Early on the
second day at Pea Ridge he was wounded in the arm, but he kept his place
with his regiment and would not stop to have his wound dressed. The
surgeon insisted, but he would n’t go. ‘I can walk and give orders,’
he said, ‘even if I can’t use my arm, and I’m going to stay here.’ The
colonel of his regiment had to order him to go to the field hospital. He
went very reluctantly, as he wanted to see the battle fought out to the
end, and was determined to do all he could toward winning it.”

The same spirit prevailed among officers and men throughout the whole
army. Of course there were instances of shirking, as will always be the
case in any battle, but they were not numerous. Perhaps the knowledge
that the enemy was right on the line of communications, so as to cut
off retreat and render surrender necessary in case of a defeat, had
something to do with the good conduct of a few, but it could not be
the case throughout the whole army. And to do the rebels justice, they
displayed similar courage, but they had the advantage of being the
attacking party and knowing that they were superior in numbers to the
union forces.

“On the morning of the seventh,” said Harry, in his story of the battle,
“there was great activity all through the union camp. Every drum and
fife in the army was called into use, and never before had the woods of
Pea Ridge resounded to so much martial music. Rations for two days
had been prepared, the soldier’s cartridge-boxes were filled to their
fullest capacity, every man made a careful inspection of the lock of his
rifle to make sure that it was in perfect order, and then the order was
given to load with ball cartridge and be in readiness to advance when
the word was given.

“We were kept waiting while General Sigel had his fight with the enemy
on the left of our line that I’ve already told about. While we were
getting ready for work Jack and I went to General Vandever and asked
what we should do.

“‘What do you want to do?’ said he.

“‘We want to do the best we can,’ I answered, ‘and help all we can.
We’ll do anything you tell us to do.’

“‘Well, then,’ the general said, very quickly, ‘stay near me and act as
my volunteer aide till I tell you to do something else.’ Then he turned
away to attend to getting his brigade in order, and we stood still and
waited till he came back.

“He was gone only a minute or two, and then told Jack to ride over to
General Carr and say the second brigade was waiting for orders. He told
me to go to General Dodge and ask if he had received orders to move yet,
and to let him know whenever orders came.

“Jack came back with the order for the brigade to follow that of General
Dodge, which had received its orders just before I got to it. One of
General Carr’s aids had brought the order to General Dodge, and he rode
with me to General Vandever to repeat the order which Jack had already
brought.

“The order to advance was loudly cheered, and the men stepped off as
gayly as though they were going to dress-parade, and most of them a
great deal more so. I couldn’t help thinking how many of these gallant
fellows would be stark and stiff on the ground or suffering with wounds
before another morning sun would rise on them. We could hear the roll
of musketry and the booming of cannon where General Sigel was engaged
on the left, and before long our advance was engaged with that of the
rebels, and the shot and shell were crashing among the trees as their
artillery opened upon us.

“General Dodge’s brigade marched up the main road toward the Missouri
state line, and filed off to the east near Elkhorn Tavern. As soon as
it got into position it opened with a battery upon the rebels, who were
posted in a wood on a slope in front. The battery was promptly replied
to, and then the shots were exchanged with great rapidity. There were
six guns on each side, though some of our men thought the rebels had
eight or ten guns, but we afterward learned they had only six; but it
was the best battery in their whole army. Our battery was the First
Iowa, and its captain prided himself on having brought it to a state of
great efficiency, but he wasn’t quite equal to his antagonist.

“General Vandever’s brigade went a little beyond Elk-horn Tavern and
took position on the left of the road nearly opposite to where General
Dodge had stretched out to the right. As I sat on my horse close behind
the general I could see that we had a dry ravine in front of us and a
wooded slope farther on, and it did not need sharp eyes to discover that
this slope was well occupied by rebels. The general ordered the Dubuque
battery (Captain Hayden) to open fire on these gray and butternut coats,
and as he did so there was a lively running of the fellows to cover.
They showed by their actions that Captain Hayden’s shots were well
aimed; but we had not given them more than two or three rounds before a
battery on the other side replied to us.

“That battery was evidently in the hands of a good officer, as he got
our range at the very first fire. A shot came whistling close to the
general, and I thought it passed between him and me, but an officer who
was there said it went over our heads. You have no, idea if you’ve never
heard it, what a spiteful screeching a cannon-shot makes when it goes
by you. Involuntarily you dodge, but really dodging is of no use, as the
ball has gone past you before you bear it. A cannon-ball moves a great
deal faster than sound. According to our school-books sound moves one
thousand one hundred and forty-two feet a second, and the scientific
gunners say the velocity of a cannon-ball is from one thousand four
hundred to one thousand, eight hundred feet a second. That of a
rifle-ball is greater, and so by the time you can hear the sound made by
a missile, whether large or small, it has gone way past you.

“At the third fire the rebels blew up one of our limber-chests, which
was standing close behind the gun to which it belonged. The great puff
of smoke that rose from it showed the rebels that they were taking
good aim, and they poured in their shot very rapidly after that. In ten
minutes more they blew up another limber-chest, and then the general
ordered the battery to change its position, and sent me to carry the
order to Captain Hayden.

“It was about nine o’clock in the morning when the first shots were
exchanged on this part of the field, and in fifteen minutes the whole
of General Carr’s division was engaged. Before I could get to Captain
Hayden to give him General Vandever’s order the rebels made a rush upon
the battery and captured one of the guns; the rest were hauled back
a short distance, and at the same time the Ninth Iowa, which was
supporting the battery, poured in a heavy fire and covered the ground
with the enemy’s dead and wounded. The rebels were driven back to their
cover in the woods, and the gun that had been captured was retaken, as
they did not have time to drag it from the field.

“‘They stand like veterans,’ said General Yandever, referring to the
soldiers of the Ninth Iowa. ‘Their long march yesterday has n’t affected
their courage. There were never better men on a battlefield.’

“Just as he said this Colonel Herron, of the Ninth came up, and the
general congratulated him; and then the general rode along the line and
said to the soldiers the same that he had to their commander. The
men cheered him and were evidently determined to do their part toward
winning the battle for the union side. But would they succeed against
all those masses of men that could be seen on the hill-slope to the
east and west, and crowded in the brushwood and among the trees that
stretched away to the north?

“After this for a while there was a lull in the fighting, and meantime
we could hear the artillery and small arms to the left, where General
Sigel and General Davis, with their divisions, were sustaining the shock
of the enemy. They were overmatched in numbers, but their weapons were
more effective, and they had a better supply of ammunition. Many of
the enemy were armed only with squirrel-rifles and shot-guns, and, of
course, they could not load and fire with the rapidity of our men. Had
they been able to do so, and had their weapons been equally effective
with ours, the battle would have been hopelessly lost to us by reason
of the great superiority of the rebels in numbers alone and their better
knowledge of the ground.

“By and by we heard that Sigel and Davis had driven away the enemy and
were slowly drawing in their lines, as only a small force were in front
of them. The attack on General Carr’s division was renewed by the rebel
artillery, and we could see that they had a great number of men gathered
behind their battery to charge upon our lines at the proper moment. So
General Carr sent an order for General Vandever to fall back, and at the
same time he gave a similar order to General Dodge.

“We fell back perhaps a hundred and fifty yards, close to Elkhorn Tavern
and a little to the north of it. There our battery opened fire again,
still supported by the Ninth Iowa, and there the rebel battery again
poured its fire upon us.

“Near the house were two companies of infantry drawn up in line and
waiting orders to move. I had just gone to carry an order for them to
come up to the support of the Ninth, when a shell passed close to me and
struck in their ranks, where it burst. Two of the men were killed and
five were wounded by this shell. Almost at the same time another shell
exploded on the ground in front of the house and shattered the leg of
a soldier who stood there. Another fell among some horse-teams,
frightening the animals into running away. They dashed up the road in
the direction of the enemy, and were lost in a cloud of dust. In its
runaway career one of the wagons knocked down some of our soldiers,
wounding one seriously and two or three slightly. A solid shot struck
the house and went completely through it, but did no damage to any one,
as the family had taken refuge in the cellar.”



CHAPTER XXVIII. GENERAL CARR’S DIVISION DRIVEN BACK--JACK BECOMES A
PRISONER.


|WHEN I had delivered my orders, and just as I was returning to General
Vandever,” continues Harry, “the rebels made a charge upon our battery
and the infantry that supported it. This was about noon, or perhaps a
little later; I can’t say exactly, as I was too much excited to make a
note of the time.

“It was n’t a bayonet charge that they made, because they had no
bayonets to charge with. They charged with double-barreled shotguns,
loaded with ball and buckshot, and to judge by the result, the shotgun
in this way is a formidable weapon. They reserved their fire until they
were pretty close to our lines; then they delivered it at short range
and without taking any particular aim, relying on the scattering of the
balls and buckshot to give a deadly effect to the assault. They were met
with well-delivered volleys from our rifles and driven back, and they
left the ground strewed with their dead and wounded.

“Again they charged, after resting a little while, and again they met
with the same reception; but they managed to force us back a little.
Then there was another lull, but only a short one, and suddenly the shot
and shell rained along the whole length of our line. General Dodge was
forced back, and so was General Vandever. Many of our officers fell
and were carried to the hospitals in the rear, and many of our
brave soldiers were stretched on the ground. There was a melancholy
satisfaction in knowing that the enemy was losing heavily, but with his
advantage in numbers he could keep up the fight, if only his ammunition
held out, long after our whole force would be used up. General Carr sent
several times for reinforcements, but there were none to be sent to him.
General Curtis told him to ‘persevere,’ and so he did, and, fighting
whenever the enemy advanced, he continued all through the afternoon.

[Illustration: 219]

“‘I must have three regiments and two batteries, or sunset and
darkness,’ said the general, ‘or I cannot hold on.’”

Just before one of the charges which the rebels made near Elkhorn
Tavern, General Vandever sent Jack with an order to Colonel Herron. On
came the rebels, and down went Jack’s horse with a bullet through his
neck; another bullet grazed Jack’s side, but only scratched the skin,
after tearing a great hole in his coat. At the same time Colonel
Herron’s horse fell dead, a cannon-shot having gone clear through him,
and in the fall the colonel was severely hurt; a musket-ball struck his
leg, and between the fall and the wound he was unable to stand. Jack
rushed to his side to raise him, and as he did so the rebels closed
around them.

“Surrender!” said a tall fellow in a butternut coat and trousers, as he
flourished a shotgun and pointed it at Colonel Herron.

“There’s nothing else to be done,” replied the colonel. “But you’ll have
to help me to go along with you; I don’t believe I can walk.”

“I ‘ll show you how to walk,” exclaimed the fellow. What he proposed to
do will be forever unknown, as just then an officer came up and received
the colonel’s surrender. He ordered two men to assist him to the rear,
and then went on to look after the fighting that was raging in front.

Jack’s presence had not been specially observed, as both soldier and
officer had been attracted to the advantage of securing the captured
colonel. Jack was meditating on the possibility of slipping through the
lines somehow and getting to his friends, when he thought of the wounded
colonel and the possibility of assisting him.

“It ‘ll be a hard time for Colonel Herron, wounded and a prisoner,” said
Jack to himself, “and it ‘ll be mighty risky for me to try to run back
through the lines. I might be shot by my own friends, and that I should
n’t like.”

Whether he meant by this that he had no objections to being shot by the
enemy we will not undertake to say, but certain it is that he was not
unlike others in being specially averse to being shot by mistake. One of
the bitterest reflections that has ever been made by the southern people
on the death of Stonewall Jackson is, that he was killed by his own men,
who mistook him and his escort for a scouting party of the enemy.

Jack had hastily made up his mind to stay by the colonel, when he was
rudely taken in charge by one of the rebel soldiers and ordered to march
along with him. He asked to be allowed to remain with Colonel Herron. At
first the request was refused, but on the latter giving his parole not
to attempt to escape, and vouching that Jack would do the same, he was
permitted to accompany the officer to whom he was so much attached.

They were sent to the rear, but for some minutes were not out of danger,
as the cannon-shot from their own lines were crashing through the trees
or plowing up the ground in their vicinity. A limb cut from a tree by
one of these shots fell close to Jack, and some of the twigs brushed
him in their descent; had the limb fallen upon him the result might
have been serious. Not six feet from where he was standing at one time a
falling branch killed a Confederate soldier and severely wounded two
or three others. A company of cavalry was completely broken up by
an exploding shell, the horses taking alarm and becoming utterly
uncontrollable. In spite of the efforts of their riders to restrain
them they ran away, and the men were violently thrown to the ground or
brushed off among the trees.

We may remark here that owing to the wooded nature of the ground where
the battle of Pea Ridge was fought, the cavalry on both sides were of
comparatively little use. Among the brushwood and trees that spread over
that region it was impossible to preserve the formation of the lines
sufficiently to make a charge with any effect, except in a very few
instances. Then, too, where the artillery was firing, the crashing
of the shot and shell among the trees and the falling of the limbs
frightened the horses, as we have just seen, and rendered them
worse than useless. The cavalry was unable to accomplish anything of
consequence, through no fault of the men, but owing to the nature of
the country, and in several instances the runaway horses demoralized the
infantry by dashing through the lines at inopportune moments.

The history of warfare in all ages abounds in accounts of panic created
by runaway animals on the battlefield. Frightened elephants and horses
caused the loss of battles by the Greeks, Romans and other warriors of
antiquity, long before the invention of gunpowder. Since its discovery
and use the instances of its panic-producing qualities are numerous. So
much is this the case that the elephant among the Eastern nations has
been almost entirely discarded on the battlefield, and is now only used
in war for the more prosaic purposes of a beast of burden. With the
increased range of artillery and small-arms in the past forty years the
horse is gradually diminishing in importance as a fighting animal,
and cavalry is chiefly useful nowadays for scouting purposes and for
pursuing a demoralized enemy in retreat.

We will leave the two captives in the hands of their captors and return
to Harry, whom we left with General Vandever.

The Ninth Iowa was getting out of ammunition, and the general sent
Harry to order up a fresh supply. Away he rode to the rear, where the
ammunition-wagons were stationed, and very quickly hunted up the one
that he wanted and sent it forward. He not only sent but accompanied it,
partly in order to show the road and partly to make sure that the driver
did not turn aside on the way and seek a place of greater safety than
where the shot and shell were falling. The driver was a brave fellow,
however, and energetically lashed his team to keep up with the galloping
youth in front of him.

By the time they reached the fighting line the regiment had again fallen
back, leaving Elkhorn Tavern in the hands of the enemy. Not only did
Harry bring the ammunition, which was speedily distributed, but he
brought a message from General Curtis to General Carr that he was about
to be reinforced.

“General Asboth has just returned from pursuing the rebels on the left,”
 said Harry, “and is coming with two regiments and a battery to support
you.”

The word ran along the line like wildfire, and the men cheered heartily.
Again the rebels came on in great force, and again they were met by a
withering fire, and also by a bayonet charge by the infantry of both
brigades of Carr’s division.

But the rebels were as brave as the men they were facing, and before the
reinforcements could reach the sorely-pressed division there was another
charge, which forced the union line back across a series of open fields
to the edge of a wood, which gave it the same sort of shelter the rebels
had enjoyed during the greater part of the day. The union forces had the
advantage now, as the enemy was obliged to make its charges across the
fields, which could be raked with the artillery and small-arms with
destructive effect.

“We’ve got’em now,” said General Vandever, turning to one of his
officers; “and here we’ll stick till night comes to stop the fighting.
Sunset will come in an hour, and we can easily hold the position till
then.”

His prediction was verified. The only attack made by the rebels on the
last position was easily repulsed, and then the sun dipped below the
horizon and the battle was over for the day.

The hostile forces lay within a thousand feet or so of each other all
through the night, neither party daring to light a fire anywhere along
its front, for fear of revealing its whereabouts. The air was still,
and conversation was carried on in whispers, for fear of scouts creeping
close up to the lines and overhearing what was said. The weary men lay
down where they were, and sought the sleep they so much needed after the
long day’s fighting. As for the generals and other officers few of them
closed an eye during the long night, as they were occupied with plans
and preparations for the morrow.

In all the camp there was no one more active than our young friend
Harry. He sadly missed the companionship of Jack, but having learned
from a prisoner taken in the last charge and repulse of the rebels that
his friend was uninjured and with Colonel Herron, he rejoiced, on the
whole, at the situation. “He ‘ll be useful to the colonel, and perhaps
it’s all for the best that he’s a prisoner just now,” was his soliloquy
as he turned to General Vandever and asked if he had any orders.

“Yes,” answered the general. “Go to camp and order up some coffee, bread
and meat for the men, and send along their blankets and overcoats. We’ll
stay right here through the night, and be ready for what comes in the
morning.”

Away went Harry with the order. When he reached the camp he found the
order had been anticipated, as the camp-guard and wagon-drivers had a
good supper ready, as good as the army rations afforded, and in less
than fifteen minutes it was loaded into wagons, where the overcoats and
blankets already were piled, and dispatched to the front.



CHAPTER XXIX. THE NIGHT IN CAMP--BEGINNING OF THE LAST DAY’S BATTLE.


|You’ve done well,” said the general. “Now go and lie down somewhere and
get all the sleep you can, as you ‘ll have enough to do to-morrow.”

Harry touched his cap in acknowledgment of the command and then jogged
back to camp, which was not more than a mile to the rear. Learning that
it was possible to get to the bank of the creek without danger, he rode
down there and watered his horse. The animal drank long and eagerly, as
he had not had a drop of water through the long and active day. Then he
returned to the camp, and fastening the animal to a wagon-wheel, having
first filled his nose-bag with grain, he lay down beneath the wagon and
tried to sleep.

But he slept very little, probably not thirty minutes altogether.
Everything was in commotion around the camp. Ambulances were coming
and going to bring in the wounded men; the doctors were busy with their
suffering patients; men were sitting or standing in little groups,
deeply engaged in speculating on the probable events of the morrow;
mounted men were moving about with orders or messages or seeking missing
officers or soldiers, and probably not one person in twenty thought of
sleep. In the whole position occupied by the army during that night it
is probable that the most quiet spot was where the division of General
Carr had bivouacked in front of the enemy, for there, at any rate, they
slept undisturbed.

At the beginning of the battle in the morning all the teams had been
harnessed, to be ready to move the wagons whenever wanted. The mules
had not been fed for forty-eight hours, nor had they received a drop
of water for half that time. The voice of a mule at its best is not
melodious, and when to the ordinary sound of his bray is added a
plaintive wail of suffering it falls distressingly on the ear. Lower and
lower grew the note till it fell to a moan that was well calculated
to banish sleep from any one not entirely worn out with exertion. So
thought Harry, and after several vain endeavors he rose to his feet and
joined one of the groups of soldiers and drivers who were discussing the
situation.

During the evening the lines of the army were drawn in on the left and
preparations were made to bring the forces of Sigel and Davis, who had
suffered but slightly during the day, to the relief of the worn out
division of General Carr. The concentration was completed by midnight:
General Davis’s division was placed on the left, General Carr’s in the
center, and the two divisions of General Sigel held the right of our
line. Thus arranged, the brunt of the fighting would be concentrated on
Sigel’s command in case the rebels remained in the positions where they
were at nightfall. In case they had changed during the night, it would
enable General Carr to be quickly re-enforced if the odds against him
should be as heavy as they were on the day before.

Harry rode out to the front again a little before daylight, and as he
passed along the road he heard the sound of vocal music rolling up from
the German regiments that composed the greater part of General Sigel’s
command. He was unacquainted with German, and so the words of the song
were unknown to him, but the music under the circumstances sounded
strangely. “And yet,” he remarked to himself, “it seems to me that I’ve
read of something of the kind somewhere else.

“Now I remember,” said he, suddenly, as he straightened in his saddle;
“it was in the Crimean war, the night before the storming of the
Malakofï and Redan and the capture of Sebastopol. I recall it all now;
the whole British army in the trenches sang the words of a Scottish air,
with which all were familiar, and the story has been told in verse by
Bayard Taylor. Here are some of his lines:

     “‘They sang of love, and not of fame,
     Forgot was Britain’s glory.
     Each heart recalled a different name
     But all sang Annie Laurie.

     “‘Voice after voice caught up the song,
     Until its tender passion
     Rose like an anthem rich and strong,
     Their battle eve’s confession.

     “‘Dear girl, the name he dared not speak
     Yet as the song grew louder,
     Something upon the soldier’s cheek
     Washed off the stain of powder. ****

     “‘And Irish Nora’s eyes are dim
     For a singer dumb and gory;
     And English Mary mourns for him
     Who sang of Annie Laurie.

     “‘Sleep, soldiers, in your honored rest,
     Your truth and valor bearing;
     The bravest are the tenderest,
     The loving are the daring.’

“Perhaps that’s a love song the Germans are singing,” thought Ilarry,
as he paused in repeating the lines of the verses given above, “and they
are acting over again the scene of the attack on Sebastopol. I hope the
battle will turn out as well for us as did that one for the allied army
of the English and French.”

Daybreak came and then sunrise. Harry had hoped for a clear morning,
but his hopes were doomed to disappointment. During the previous day the
smoke had frequently hung thickly over the field, at times rendering the
combatants invisible to each other and greatly hindering the movements
on both sides. All through that cool and almost frosty night the smoke
hung low over the ground, and as the sun rose on the morning of the
eighth of March it pierced through a cloud that seemed more like fog
than any thing else, and was first visible as a dull ball of copper,
on which the youth could easily fix his eyes without blinking. The sun
showed itself only a short time and then the sky became overcast, and
for a while it looked as though the day might be rainy.

We will now listen to Harry’s account of the last day’s fighting.

“I thought they would begin at daylight, and so did everybody else;
or at any rate, everybody was ready on our side for the opening of the
battle. But though we could see the rebels in strong force right in
front of us, and evidently as ready as we were, there was hardly a shot
fired, except by the skirmishers, until after eight o’clock. They left
the opening of the day’s work to us, and we did n’t go about it till we
were ‘good and ready.’

“General Curtis intended the heaviest of the fighting for General
Sigel’s two divisions, as they had suffered least on the day before.
The rebels had been busy during the night, and planted some of their
batteries on a hill perhaps a hundred feet high, which sloped away to
the north, but was quite steep on the face toward us. It was very much
such a position as we had at Sugar Creek, where the enemy wisely chose
not to attack. Now we had no choice but to attack them, and they were
prepared for a vigorous defense, as they had large masses of supporting
infantry at the base of the hill on both sides, and also several pieces
of artillery scattered among the infantry.

“Under cover of the woods at the edge of the corn-field which lay
between us and the enemy, General Sigel planted his batteries and drew
up his infantry and cavalry where they could give efficient support. We
wondered why the rebels did not open fire upon him while he was getting
ready, but we learned afterward that they felt confident of defeating
him when the actual fighting should begin, and besides they were short
of artillery ammunition and wanted to make every shot tell. They argued
that if they opened fire the guns would be withdrawn and they would
be compelled to leave the place, where they had so much advantage of
position, and follow us wherever we drew them.

“I stood where I could see pretty much all that was going on there, and
it was certainly a wonderful picture. The white and withered stalks of
the corn in the field contrasted sharply with the dark-blue coats of
our men when they advanced from the edge of the wood to the open ground,
and, luckily for us, the smoke blew away a little before eight o’ clock
and gave us a clear view across the field. We could easily make out the
rebel lines and the positions of the cannon that were ready to open upon
us. Our cannoneers stood to their guns and waited the command to open
fire; the rebel artillery-men were evidently doing the same thing, and
on both sides the infantry were prepared for whatever was demanded of
it.

“General Sigel gave the order, and a dozen cannon fired very quickly,
one after the other. Each gunner took sight against a tree on the hill
where the rebel batteries were stationed, and tried the effect of
his shot upon it. The first shots were too high, and a turn of the
elevating-screw depressed the muzzle of the gun. The second shot was
generally too high, though with some it proved just right; but with
nearly every gun the third shot was exactly the proper range. Then the
aim was taken at the rebel guns that were just beginning to fire, and
for nearly two hours there was an artillery duel, in which the infantry
had little to do but to look on.

“Through their glasses the officers could see that our fire was having
terrible effect. Several of the rebel cannon were disabled and sent
to the rear. Several of our guns were disabled and retired, and their
places promptly filled by others; but somehow the enemy did not seem to
have a reserve to draw upon. Their fire slackened, their infantry seemed
to be melting away, and through the smoke several of their men ran
across to our lines and surrendered.

“This confirmed what had already been reported through our camp, that
General McCulloch had been killed, and also General McIntosh, one of
their best officers, and formerly of the regular army. They said they
had been entirely confident of capturing all of us, but the death of
these generals had disheartened a good many of the men; and they were
very short of provisions and ammunition.

“We had thirty pieces of artillery playing on the rebels at one time.
They could not respond with so many, and as their artillery fire
slackened General Sigel suddenly ordered some of the guns to change
their fire into the ranks of the infantry and cavalry that were waiting
on the enemy’s flanks ready to charge us when ordered.

“The shell, grape and canister tore great swaths in the crowded ranks
and piled up windrows of dead and wounded. No troops except the most
stolid Asiatics could stand such a fire as that. The cavalry and
infantry melted away, and the artillery was without support.

“A battery of three guns on an open space at one side of the hill, and
near the road, became troublesome, and the fire of one of our batteries
was turned upon it. Then, as the return fire slackened, the wind blew
away the smoke and revealed its exact position.

“‘Send a regiment to take that battery,’ said General Sigel to one of
his staff.

“The honor was given to the Twelfth Missouri, and as soon as the order
was received away they dashed for their work. Across the field they went
at full charge, losing twelve men killed outright and more than twice
that number wounded, but not once did they halt. When the rebels saw
them coming they rallied several companies of infantry to the support of
the battery, but too late to save it. The charge was successful and the
guns were ours.”



CHAPTER XXX. THE REBELS DEFEATED--END OF THE BATTLE--INDIANS SCALPING
OUR SOLDIERS AND MUTILATING THEIR BODIES.


|While Sigel’s batteries had been pouring their iron hail upon the hill
which formed the center of the rebel position the divisions of Carr and
Davis had slowly advanced till they occupied the woods where the rebels
were posted when the fight began. I should have said our guns stopped
two or three times, partly to allow them to cool and partly to carry
them forward to a closer range. The melting away of the rebel lines was
the last act of the battle. The order to retire was given, and before
noon the fighting was over.

“General Sigel’s command went in pursuit, while the rest of the army
remained on the field. The chase was kept up for twelve miles and then
given up, as the rebels had a fair road before them and could push
on without danger, while we had to be constantly on the lookout for
ambuscades. General Sigel captured a good many wagons with supplies and
some ammunition, and his men picked up about a thousand stand of arms
which the fleeing rebels had thrown away. They were of very little use,
as they were mostly shotguns and squirrel-rifles. The best among
them were picked out by the officers, to send home as trophies of the
campaign and in memory of the battle we had won.

“As soon as it was certain that the rebels had gone and the field was
ours we set about looking after the wounded.

“General Vandever went to the hill where the rebel batteries had been
posted in the morning, and took me along with him. Such a sight as I saw
there I hope never to see again.

“The ground was covered with dead and wounded men, the most of them
dead, as they were struck down by shot and shell or by grape and
canister. Some were killed by the falling limbs of trees, and one man
was crushed by the weight of a limb five or six inches in diameter that
had fallen directly upon his shoulders and pressed him to the ground.
One tree had been pierced through from side to side by a solid shot;
its top was shivered by a shell, and its trunk was pierced by a dozen or
more canister-balls. Here lay the fragments of a battery-wagon that had
been blown up, and not far off were five artillery wheels. Three mules
lay dead by the side of the broken wagons, and one of them was so torn
by the explosion that little more than the general shape of the animal
remained.

“In a space thirty feet square I counted seven dead men and three
wounded ones, one of the latter just gasping his last. A little further
on there were fifteen wounded rebels, all begging and imploring for
water. I gave them all my canteen contained, and so did the rest of the
party, and the general sent me off for more. As I turned my horse to
ride away he jumped aside to avoid stepping on a prostrate man whose arm
had been torn off by a cannon-shot, and as he jumped he almost trod on
another whose leg had been shattered. Close by a tree was a dead man
whose head had been blown off by a shell, and by his side was another
dead man whose breast was pierced by a grapeshot. A letter had fallen
from his pocket, and I sprang to the ground and picked it up, intending
to read it later.

“The letter was addressed to Pleasant J. Williams, Churchill’s regiment,
Fayetteville, Ark.; it was from a girl in Kentucky, to whom Williams was
evidently engaged, if I may judge by the tenor of the document. I shall
keep it in the hope of some day being able to return it to the writer.
She was an ardent rebel, but evidently a very sweet and loving young
woman, though, unfortunately, she does not inclose her photograph.

“I went for the water as fast as I could, and wondered how I was to
bring it, as I had but a single canteen. On the way I passed through the
camp, and when I told a captain of the Third Illinois cavalry the object
of my mission, he detailed four men to go with me, and told them to
gather up a dozen canteens to carry water to the wounded men. Tired as
the men and their horses were, the soldiers went eagerly on their errand
of mercy, and it almost made me cry to see how tenderly they cared for
the poor fellows who were so lately their enemies. Curious thing, this
business of making war! Soldiers try their very best to kill each other,
but when the fighting is over they do all they can to help the very men
they shot down only a little while before.

“Before I got back to the hill where the wounded men were lying a rebel
surgeon had arrived with a flag of truce, and was doing all he could
for the sufferers. But several were so badly hurt that they could n’t
be saved, and one of them died within two minutes after swallowing a
draught of water I gave him.

“A horrible thing happened here close to this hill. The bursting of
shells, or some burning wads, had set fire to the dry leaves that
covered the ground, and the woods were burning in every direction. We
tried to remove the wounded before the fire reached them, and thought we
had got them all away; afterward some were found in secluded spots, and
though still alive, they had been terribly burned and blackened by the
fire among the leaves and fallen brushwood. One poor fellow had crawled
close to a dry log that was set on fire by the burning leaves, and was
so badly burned that he died soon after being found. The doctors said
his wounds were so severe that it is doubtful if he could have lived
even if the fire had not reached him.

[Illustration: 235]

“We had repeatedly heard that the rebels were very badly supplied with
shoes, and there was proof of the truth of this statement in the way
they stripped the shoes from the feet of dead and mortally-wounded men,
no matter to which side they belonged. Not one corpse in twenty of
all that I saw on the battlefield had shoes on its feet. In some cases
pantaloons and coats were removed, but such instances were not numerous,
the great need of the rebels seeming to be in the line of shoes. Of
course, the clothing of our soldiers would hardly be desired by the
rebels, as it would be dangerous for them to wear, and they have no
ready means of changing its color.

“The general told me to look for him at Elkhorn Tavern as soon as I had
carried out the order about taking water to the wounded rebels, and I
did so. On the way I passed the spot where a captain of a rebel battery
was killed near the close of the battle, his head having been carried
away by one of our cannon-shot. They said his name was Churchill Clark,
and that he was the son of a prominent politician well known in the
state of Missouri. Young Clark was educated at the military academy at
West Point, and was said to be a splendid officer. He turned against
the government the advantages of the education he had received at its
expense. He was carried away by the idea that the right of the state
was paramount to the right of the nation, and this is the end of
states-rights for him--killed in battle at Pea Ridge.

“But if the battlefield was horrible, the scene at Elk-horn was worse.
Dead and wounded men were lying all about, the house was filled with
wounded, and every few minutes a corpse was brought out to make room
for a man whom the surgeons hoped to save. Blood was everywhere, and the
sight was a sickening one. All the medical men were busy as they could
be, and with the hardest work they were not able to give much attention
to each individual case.

“The next morning the general sent me to Elkhorn with a message to
one of the surgeons. Outside of the building was a row of corpses of
officers and men mingled indiscriminately, most of them having died
during the night from the effect of their wounds or after amputation
of limbs. Several legs and arms that had been cut off were lying on the
ground, some of the legs having the stocking and perhaps a portion of
the pantaloons still in place.

“The attendants were busy removing the corpses and carrying them to a
place of burial. Each was covered with a blanket, and officers and men
were moving among them, raising the blanket coverings one after the
other, in order to find some missing individual. ‘That’s Captain
------,’ said one of the officers, as he turned down a blanket and
revealed a face and the double-barred shoulder-straps which indicated
the rank of the wearer. ‘That’s private --------, of Co. B,’ or ‘that’s
Sergeant------, of-regiment,’ were the remarks of the attendants as
they went steadily on with their work. Here sat a soldier who was crying
bitterly, as he had just discovered the body of his brother among the
dead. The surgeons and their aids gave him no attention; in fact, they
were quite regardless of anything except the wounded whom they were
trying to save.

“Details were sent out to look carefully over the ground where the
battle was fought, in order to bring in the wounded and bury the dead.
The work of humanity was rapidly performed, and before night all the
dead had been laid to their rest, and all the wounded, except a few who
were not discovered until afterwards, were relieved as far as possible.
The dead, where they lay thickly, were buried in trenches containing ten
and in some cases twelve or fifteen corpses, but in most cases they were
buried singly or by two’s and three’s. Most of those who fell at Pea
Ridge found their graves where they lay, and there they will sleep
undisturbed through all the rest of this war that is convulsing the
country and threatening the existence of a nation which was founded as
the home of universal liberty.

“From the hospital I carried a message to Colonel Bussey, of the Third
Iowa Cavalry, who had returned from pursuing the rebels as far as
Bentonville, and was just then in that part of the field where his
regiment made a charge upon the combined white and Indian troops
of General Pike, and was repulsed with the loss of several men. It
afterward, as I have said elsewhere, rallied and defeated the rebels,
recapturing three guns of a battery which had been temporarily lost.

“The rebels may deny as much as they please that the Indians scalped
their fallen foes, but here was the evidence that they did it. Eight men
of Colonel Bussey’s cavalry were killed in the charge, and the Indians
occupied the ground immediately and took off the scalps of those eight
men and otherwise mutilated their bodies. Some of the bodies indicated
that the men were only wounded and not dead when the Indians came into
possession of them by the repulse of the cavalry, but the scoundrels
quickly dispatched them with the tomahawk. Marks of the tomahawk, or
some weapon like it, were plainly visible on several bodies, and the
surgeons who examined the gunshot wounds on some of the bodies declared
that they were not sufficient to cause death.

“Colonel Bussey and several of his officers and men have made oath
to the evidences of the use of the tomahawk and scalping-knife by the
Indian allies of the rebels, and the documents will be placed on record.
It is probable that more than this number were scalped, as several
bodies were buried before an investigation was thought of, but about
these eight there can be no mistake. We hope the rebels are proud of
these murderous savages, who may yet turn upon them in their frenzy when
least expected to do so. A few of the Indians were captured, and if our
men had not been restrained by their officers they would have hanged or
shot the rascals. General Curtis has allowed all the rebel surgeons to
come and go freely under parole, with the exception of the surgeon of an
Indian regiment; him the general is keeping a close prisoner, and will
send under guard to St. Louis.”

The rebels disappeared so suddenly from the battlefield that the union
commanders could not make out where they had gone. General Sigel went
after them in one direction and Colonel Bussey in another, but could not
overtake them, and the pursuit was soon given up. It seems they turned
off through several hollows and ravines, taking obscure roads, and
finally reuniting in the neighborhood of Bentonville, where they camped
for the night. A good many of them continued along the road without
halting, determined to get a safe distance between themselves and the
terrible Yankees. Previous to the battle the officers had spread the
most startling stories about northern atrocities to prisoners, with the
object of nerving the men up to a high pitch of courage.

On this subject let us listen to Jack, whom we left in the hands of the
enemy, and who was carried away by them in their retreat.

“The night after they captured the colonel, and took me along with him,”
 said Jack, “we had a hard old time of it. We had very little to eat,
and nothing but our clothes to sleep in. We were no worse off than the
officers and men around us, as there were a good many of them that had
n’t any blankets, and nearly all were ragged and fearfully out at the
elbows. Each man had for his rations a piece of corn-bread as dry as a
stone and nearly as hard, and some of them had nothing more than an ear
or two of corn, that they chewed on as though they were horses. One of
the doctors dressed Colonel Herron’s wounded leg. He could n’t stand on
it, and when he wanted to move around I helped him on one side and one
of the hospital attendants on the other. They put him in an ambulance
along with one of their own wounded officers and started us off on the
road to Bentonville, and there we stayed through the night. Probably
they would have sent us further if they’d known how the next day’s
battle was coming out.

“They were going to send me off with the soldiers, but Colonel Herron
asked to be permitted to keep me as a personal attendant. He offered to
give his parole and become responsible that I would not escape, the same
as he had done when we were first captured, and this they accepted after
a little palaver. At one time I thought they wouldn’t do it, and began
to think I’d have to trudge along the road with the soldiers. And I
think I owe my good fortune to an old friend; at least I ‘ll call him
so, as he acted like a friend, though he had no reason to remember me
kindly.

“You remember the captain we helped to capture near Rolla when we went
on our scouting expedition on foot?”

“Certainly,” replied Harry; “I remember him well.”

“He was the man that befriended me,” said Jack, “and he did it just
at the right time, too. He was one of the officers that was debating
whether to do as the colonel wanted, and let me go with him, and while
they were talking a little way off from us he kept eying me all over.
After a while he came up to me and said:

“‘Are you one of the boys that was out one day on the road from Rolla to
Pilot Knob, and found out where a captain had a recruiting camp?’

“I turned all sorts of colors, I know, and while I was trying to stammer
out something to convince him I was n’t the boy he was looking for he
nodded his head in a satisfied sort of way.

“I thought my case was done for and he’d have me shot sure, but he
only laughed and said I was made of good stuff and had ‘got the sand,’
whatever that was. Then he went back and talked with the others, and
after a few minutes he came to me and said he would be responsible for
me.

“My heart went down in my boots at this, but he did n’t let it stay
there long. ‘You’re all right,’ said he, ‘and you may go with your
colonel. But, first, you must give me your solemn word of honor that you
won’t try to escape as long as you are allowed to be with him.’

“I gave my word of honor and signed a parole which he wrote out, and
then he said he thought he could trust me. ‘You caught me once,’ said
he, ‘but you weren’t under any parole, and I had no business to talk
with you as I did. You boys did a smart thing, and just the kind of
thing I believe in, and as long as you’re in my hands I ‘ll look out for
you. And I ‘ll look out for you, too,’ he added, dropping his voice, ‘if
you try any Yankee tricks on me now that you’re under parole.’

“I repeated my promise, and felt relieved at the way he acted toward me.
Then he hurried a man off and got something for us to eat. It was n’t
much, only a slice of corn-bread and a piece of bacon for me, and a tin
cupful of tea and some more bacon and bread for the colonel. He told me
to stay by the ambulance, where the colonel was, and said I could ride
with the driver, except ‘when they were going up-hill, where I must get
off and walk’.”



CHAPTER XXXI. JACK’S EXPERIENCES AS A PRISONER--REBEL SOLDIERS OPINIONS.


|To judge by the number of times I had to get off and walk,” continued
Jack, “it was up-hill pretty nearly all the way to Fayetteville. A
wounded major of the rebel army was put in the ambulance alongside of
Colonel Herron, and when we got to Fayetteville I had to give up my
place to a rebel captain who had been shot in the arm. Of course I
couldn’t complain at this, and thought myself lucky to have been allowed
to ride so far as I did ride. I had to walk the rest of the way, and
though I was young and strong, it was impossible for me to keep up with
the ambulance when they had a good road. But as most of the road was
bad and a good deal blocked by wagons, I managed to be along with the
ambulance every night and two or three times generally during the day.
It was lucky for me that the ambulance horses were pretty well tired out
with overwork and poor feed, and at one time the driver was afraid he
would n’t be able to get them through to Van Buren, where we had been
ordered to go.

“There were six men on horseback who rode along with the ambulance, to
make sure that we did n’t get away. Our captors were evidently mindful
of the old motto, ‘Fast bind, fast find,’ and they had us not only on
our parole, but under guard. When it was found that I had to walk I was
put with half-a-dozen other prisoners in charge of two of the mounted
men. They were rather surly at first, but after a while we got on good
terms with them by helping them to pick up forage for their horses, of
which they were in great need. There was n’t much to be picked up, as
the country had been pretty thoroughly cleaned out by the army in its
advance to attack us, and in the previous retreat when we first came
into the state.

“The road over the Boston mountains is a rough one, and the wagons could
n’t get along there any faster than men on foot; they had to go slow to
avoid breaking axles and smashing wheels, and all along the road there
were dozens of wagons that had broken down and been abandoned. Soon
after we left Fayetteville the news came that the army had been defeated
and was falling back, but this was treated as a rumor at first, and our
rebel guards laughed at it as absurd. A few hours later some mounted
men came along carrying dispatches to Fort Smith, and then we heard
positively that our side had won and the rebels were really falling
back.

“I wanted to raise a cheer, but thought it would not be wise to do
so, as our guards might make it harder for us if we made any sort of
a demonstration. I passed the word among the rest, and we agreed to
pretend that it could n’t be so, as our army was so much smaller than
theirs and we had used up nearly all our ammunition at the time we
were captured. We consoled ourselves with the reflection that we should
probably be exchanged before long, as we ought to have prisoners enough
in our hands to make an even trade.

“We camped as soon as night came on, and I had no trouble in finding
the colonel’s ambulance and giving him all the help and comfort that
I could. His wounded leg pained him a good deal, and the rebel surgeon
said it would be better if it could be bathed in cold water.

“I went at work at once and bathed the swollen part so that it visibly
went down, and the pain was much less. I was at it for a full hour, and
then the colonel made me lie down and sleep, as he would n’t hear of
my being up all night. I slept as sound as a log, but was up before
daylight to give the leg another bath before we started. My friend,
the rebel captain, came around while I was at work and said I seemed so
handy that he reckoned they would keep me as a hospital attendant, and
not send me back in exchange if they made any. I told him I did n’t want
to go back until the colonel did, and I was perfectly willing to be a
hospital attendant as long as I could be with him.

“All along the road there was great curiosity to look at the Yankee
prisoners and see what they were like. By the way some of the people
stared at us, they must have expected to see some horrid monsters, and
were really surprised to find that we were human beings. Some of them
abused us, and others looked on in silence, as they might have looked at
an elephant or a five-legged calf. At one house, where we stopped to
get a drink of water, a woman came out and lashed her tongue in a fit of
rage at the ‘Yankee cut-throats,’ as she called us. She hoped we would
all be hanged as soon as we got to Fort Smith, and if she had her way we
should be strung up then and there.

“Poor creature! I did not blame her so much, as she had been told the
most awful stories of what the Yankees did wherever they got possession
of the country. All the atrocities ever committed by savages were
attributed to us, together with some that no savages ever thought
of. One of our guards told us that he had heard of our putting fifty
prisoners in a log-house, having bound them hand and foot, and piled
them up as though they had been so many sticks of wood. Then we piled
shavings and straw on them till the house was filled with it, and after
this was done we set the straw on fire. The house and all the prisoners
were consumed, as a matter of course. In another case we tied prisoners
to trees and used them as targets for our infantry soldiers to practice
upon when learning how to handle fire-arms.

“Of course the leaders knew better than this, but the stories were
intended for the ignorant masses of the people, to excite them to rush
to the defense of the imperiled South and save their homes from the
desecration and destruction that they said would be certain if the
Yankees once obtained possession of the country. But in one way they
were ‘hoist by their own petard,’ to use an old phrase, as the fear of
what might happen to them in case of capture caused many of the rebel
soldiers at Pea Ridge to run away rather than face the terrible Yankees.
From what the soldiers said, I’m certain that this is what caused
several regiments to break and run after they had fired only a few
rounds from their shotguns and squirrel-rifles.

“If this were a place for moralizing, I would say that lying never pays,
whether by wholesale or retail. The rebel leaders in Arkansas found it
out before the end of the second year of the war.

“We got to Van Buren, on the north bank of the Arkansas river, three
days after leaving Bentonville, and were pretty well used up by the
time they brought us to a halt. The colonel was sent to the military
hospital, which was in some wooden barracks just outside the town, and
I was allowed to go with him as his personal attendant, on the same
conditions as before. I ought to say that on the closing day of the
journey I got my old place on the seat by the driver for the last five
or six hours, the wounded captain having stopped in a house where he
had friends who would take care of him until his arm was well enough to
allow him to return to his regiment.

“There was plenty of room in the hospital when we got there, but the
wounded came in fast, and within two days it was crowded full. I made
myself as useful as I could, and soon got into the good graces of the
surgeons, by helping them to dress wounds and do anything else that came
in my way. I was about the hospital during the day, and could come and
go as I liked, only I was under parole not to go outside the building
and the one adjoining it. At night I slept in a sort of a guard-room at
one end of the building, but there was n’t much of a guard there, and I
might have run away without any trouble if it had not been for my parole
not to do so. It is just possible, however, that I was watched in a way
I was not aware of, and my old friend may have ‘looked out for me,’ as
he promised to do.

“The army followed closely after us, and there was no doubt of
the defeat and retreat of the rebels. The soldiers were very much
disappointed and disheartened, and if they could have got away without
rendering themselves liable to be shot for desertion, I’m sure that half
of them would have gone within two days after they got back to camp. As
it was, there was a great deal of straggling, and I heard an officer say
they had lost not less than five thousand men in one way and another by
the campaign to Pea Ridge and back again.

“By the fourteenth the whole army, such of it as held together, had come
in and was encamped around Van Buren. Some of the regiments were ferried
over the river to Fort Smith, but the most of the troops remained on the
north bank. I did n’t have much chance to see them, as I was kept in
the limits of the hospital, but so far as I could observe they were a
forlorn-looking lot.

“Only a few regiments wore the gray uniforms of the Confederacy, the
greater number of the men being clad in the ordinary home-spun cloth
of the country familiarly known as ‘butternut.’ During the Pea Ridge
campaign they had been very poorly fed--some of them going for thirty or
forty hours during the retreat without a morsel of food other than a few
grains of corn; raw turnips and carrots had been considered a luxury,
and the men who secured them were envied. Raw cabbages were eagerly
devoured, but unfortunately the country was not stocked with these
products of the soil, or the troops might have been better fed.”



CHAPTER XXXII. JACK’S DIPLOMACY--HIS RETURN TO CAMP--A NEW MOVE.


|General Curtis remained a few days in the camp near where the battle
was fought, and then, as the country around was exhausted of supplies,
he drew back a few miles to Keitsville, Missouri; but not until he had
positively ascertained that the rebel army had retired to Fort Smith and
Van Buren, on the line of the Arkansas river.

A day or two after the battle negotiations were begun for an exchange of
prisoners. Both the commanders were favorable to the exchange, as they
were so hard pressed for supplies that the prisoners on their hands were
burdensome in the way of devouring rations, and, besides, they required
a strong guard to hold them securely. Each side wanted its men back
under their own colors, and as the number of prisoners was about equal
the exchange was speedily arranged.

Colonel Hebart, of the Third Louisiana, was a prisoner in General
Curtis’s hands, and was traded off for Colonel Herron, and each army
thus secured the return of an honored officer. There was some delay
in arranging the exchange of the men of the rank and file, and in
consequence of this it looked as though Jack would have to remain behind
when Colonel Herron started from Van Buren for the Union camp.

Jack was equal to the emergency, and when he learned that the colonel
had been exchanged and was to start on the following morning, he devised
a plan, which he unfolded as follows to his friend, the rebel captain,
already-mentioned:

“It’s clear the colonel can’t walk or can’t ride on horseback. He’s got
to be carried in an ambulance or a wagon.”

The captain admitted that this was the case.

“He’s to go in an ambulance,” said the captain, “and I’m to accompany
him on horseback. Dr. ------ will go along, too, to take care of the
colonel’s leg.”

“I’m glad of that,” said Jack; “but who’ll drive the ambulance?”

“One of the drivers, I suppose,” replied the captain.

“Now, there’s just where I can come in,” said the persistent youth.

“How so?”

“Why, don’t you see, Captain? Let me drive the ambulance. I can do it
just as well as anybody else.”

The officer shook his head with an emphasis that indicated the proposal
to be something quite out of the ordinary run of things, and not to be
entertained. But Jack was not to be put off thus.

“I ask it as a great favor, Captain,” said he, “and I ‘ll be sure to
return it with interest one of these days. Let me drive the ambulance,
and when it gets to our lines we ‘ll have one of your men drive it back,
and it will bring some wounded officer along, if there’s one to bring.
It will be in your charge and protected by the flag of truce, and you
‘ll save having one of your drivers go up to our camp and back again.”

Viewed in this light, the proposal did not seem so very far out of the
way, and as it met the wishes of Colonel Herron, who was highly popular
among the rebel officers with whom he had been brought in contact by
reason of his amiability and courtesy of manner, the matter was speedily
arranged. The ambulance started at the time appointed, and Jack handled
the reins as though he had been bred to the business and intended to be
at the head of it before very long. The fact is, no great handling was
necessary, as the horses were not at all fiery in their natures, and had
been very much reduced in flesh by the experiences of the campaign.

There were no adventures of consequence on the journey, the presence of
the captain and the white flag that fluttered in front of the vehicle
being sufficient to protect it from any kind of molestation. The colonel
suffered considerably with the jolting of the ambulance, and more than
once he half wished he had remained in captivity long enough to allow
the wound to heal. But, on the other hand, he was elated at the prospect
of soon being among his own friends, and you can be sure he was received
with open arms by his fellow-officers.

As for Jack, he was a person of great consequence when he returned to
camp and told the story of his adventures among the rebels. His first
thought was for Harry, whom he hunted up with the least possible delay.
In fact, the two youths were hunting for each other, as Harry had heard
of Jack’s return with Colonel Herron from a soldier who had seen the
flag of truce on its way to the headquarters of General Curtis and
recognized Jack as the driver of the vehicle.

Leave of absence was granted to Colonel Herron, and he returned to St.
Louis and thence to his home in Iowa, where he remained until he was
restored to health. As soon as he could do so he went into active
service again, and long before the end of the war his uniform was
adorned with the double stars of a major-general. But he never forgot
his experiences in captivity after Pea Ridge, nor the devotion of Jack
through all those days of suffering.

Jack offered to go with him as far as Rolla, or even to Iowa, if he
desired; but as the colonel had his own servant with him, and was to be
accompanied by one of the newspaper correspondents, who was returning to
St. Louis, he declined the offer, as he readily divined that the
youth had no desire to go home just then. In spite of their numerous
experiences, both Harry and Jack thirsted for more, their appetites
having been sharpened rather than dulled by what they had gone through.

“Wonder what we ‘ll do now?” said Harry one morning as they were
strolling about the camp.

“That’s for the general to say,” replied Jack, “and the most we can do
on the subject is to guess.”

“Well, here’s for a guess,” said Harry, and the pair sat down for a
council of war on their own account.

“From several things that were dropped in my hearing,” said Jack, “while
I was at Van Buren, I should n’t wonder if the most of Van Dorn’s army
was sent off to the east of the Mississippi to join the rebel forces in
Tennessee. This will leave Arkansas with no army large enough to oppose
us, and so we can go where we please.”

“That may be so,” said Harry, musingly; “but where’s all our supplies to
come from? We’re a long way from Rolla now, and if we get down into the
interior of Arkansas we ‘ll be farther still. We ‘ll have to live on the
country, and must do as the rebels do. We ‘ll get along without tea and
coffee and other luxuries, and settle down to corn-bread and bacon. But
before we start we’ve got to replenish our stores of ammunition, and
make up for what was consumed at Pea Ridge. In my opinion that’s what
the general is waiting for, and we sha’n’t get orders to march until
everything is ready. It won’t do to go down into the middle of Arkansas
without being ‘well heeled,’ as they say in this part of the country.”

“Yes, but where do you think we ‘ll go when we start?” queried Jack.

“We ‘ll go for the capital of the state, and I ‘ll bet on it,” said
Harry. “When we have taken Little Rock we shall virtually have the State
in our possession, and that will be a blow to the rebels. Of course,
there ‘ll be parts of it still in their hands, but the possession of the
capital is a strong point on our side.”

The youths mentioned their belief to some of their comrades, and the
latter repeated it to others. The story grew with each repetition, and
by the end of the day it was currently reported throughout the camp that
the army was about to advance on Little Rock, and was only waiting for
supplies and reinforcements. Inasmuch as that was the objective point
that General Curtis then had in view, he was naturally puzzled to know
how the story arose when it was reported to him. Careful and close
inquiry traced it to Harry and Jack, who promptly acknowledged their
authority to be nothing more nor less than guesswork.

There was a vast amount of this amateur generalship during the war, and
it was by no means confined to the men in the field. Every cross-roads
grocery, and every place, in fact, where men assembled to the number
of half a dozen or more, was a center of strategy, in which campaigns
innumerable were laid out and battles without number were fought, and
always won by the side on which the sympathies of the strategists were
enlisted. There was hardly an editor of a newspaper who did not feel
himself fully competent to direct the generals in the field how to
conduct their campaigns, and if all the editorial advice and criticism
of the war could be gathered and printed in a book, it would form
probably the largest, and undoubtedly the heaviest, volume ever known.

It was no more than natural that the soldiers in the field should put
their brains at work to discover what moves were intended, and very
often the generals were obliged to use a good deal of deception to
prevent the premature working-out of their plans. Some of the generals
lost their temper whenever they learned that any one besides themselves
had been thus using his brains, but the majority of them took it
good-naturedly, and regarded it as the evident outcome of an army drawn
from the intelligent population of the North. General Curtis was one of
those men of broad views, and he had a hearty laugh to himself when he
found that the camp rumor was founded upon the amateur strategy of those
enterprising youths, Jack and Harry.

“By the way,” said Jack to Harry, “do you know what the difference is
between strategy and tactics?”

“I can’t say exactly,” was the embarrassed reply; “only I think strategy
is a good deal bigger than tactics, and means more.”

“There’s one more syllable in it, anyhow,” said Jack; “but that doesn’t
tell the whole story. Here comes Mr. Fayel, the correspondent of the
Missouri _Democrat_; lets ask him.”

Harry agreed to it, so the momentous question was propounded to the
good-natured gentleman, who had been with the army since its departure
from Springfield.

“Harry was right,” said Mr. Fayel, “when he thought strategy was larger,
and included more than tactics. Strategy is the art of moving armies
through a country and conducting a military campaign. It is the science
of military command, or the science of directing great movements. On
the other hand, tactics is the science of disposing military and naval
forces in order of battle and performing military and naval evolutions.
It was strategy to bring the army here from Rolla, and to fall back to
the position on Sugar Creek and get everything in shape for fighting.
The general showed his tactics in handling the troops on the
battlefield, and by winning the fight he showed himself a successful
tactician.”

“Ever so much obliged to you for the explanation,” said Harry, to which
Jack added his vote of obligation.

Harry was about to ask another question, but was interrupted by
the sudden arrival of an orderly, who said the youths were wanted
immediately at General Vandever’s tent.

Wondering what the sudden summons could mean, they started at once to
obey it.



CHAPTER XXXIII. A NEW SCOUTING EXPEDITION--CAPTURED BY THE ENEMY.


|General Curtis wants you to go on an expedition,” said General
Vandever, when the youths reported to him. “Are you ready for it?”

“Certainly, General,” replied Harry; “anything that you order we ‘ll do
if we can.”

“It is n’t an order,” said the general, smiling, “as it is one of those
things that come outside of orders.”

Then he paused, and the youths waited for him to continue, which he did
in a moment.

“It’s an expedition into the enemy’s country, where you ‘ll run a good
deal of risk; but, as you are not enlisted into the service, you can
undertake it without compromising yourselves to the same extent that
a soldier would. You ‘ll have to go in disguise, and conceal your real
character. There’s where the risk comes in.”

The general left them, while he strolled outside his tent, to give them
an opportunity to consider the proposal.

“I’m ready to go, Jack,” said Harry, “provided you are.”

“Of course I’m ready enough,” was the reply, “and feel sure we shall get
through all right. We can play our old game that we succeeded with
last year, though we may have to vary it a good deal, according to
circumstances.” When the general returned they announced their decision.
He immediately accompanied them to General Curtis’s tent, and they
received their instructions.

“I want you to go to Fort Scott, in Kansas, about one hundred miles
northwest from here; go as quickly as you can, but don’t press your
horses or appear to be in a great hurry. Take two days for the trip, or
three, if necessary, and when you get there do as the commander of the
post directs you. I will see that you are provided with ‘butternut’
clothes during the day; and if you are using military saddles on your
horses, you had better change them for common ones of the country.

“I have heard of the cleverness you have shown on previous occasions,”
 the general continued, “and have no doubt you will get through all right
and come back safely. But it will require courage and presence of mind,
as you are likely to meet scouting parties of the enemy, and must be
prepared to play your characters well.”

The boys promised they would do their best, and at a signal from General
Vandever they saluted and retired.

From a quantity of clothing in the hands of the quartermaster they
selected two well-worn suits of common material of the country. Though
well worn, the suits were clean, having been recently washed, and by
order of General Vandever the garments were sent to General Curtis for
his chief of staff to inspect. The inspection showed that they needed
mending in several places, to insure their holding out through the
journey, and they were accordingly submitted to the care of the
headquarters’ tailor for a few hours. To make sure that the work was
properly done, the chief of staff had it performed in his own tent,
and directly under his eye, being unwilling to trust the tailor out of
sight.

Toward evening the patched and mended garments were ready, and were
brought by an orderly to General Vandever’s tent. Their hats and boots
were in keeping with the rest of their wardrobe, and when fully rigged
the boys looked the very picture of natives of the soil of Missouri or
Arkansas. By General Vandever’s order they did not show themselves about
the camp in their new outfit, but remained closely concealed in a tent
in the rear of his. They ate a hearty supper and went early into their
blankets, so as to be up and off before the break of day.

Nearly two hours before daylight their horses, which had been tied close
to the general’s tent and well fed, were saddled, and the boys, after
swallowing a hasty and very early breakfast, announced themselves ready
to start. The general bade them good-bye, and said his adjutant would
escort them out of the lines.

“But we have n’t any dispatches yet,” said Harry. “We supposed General
Curtis had some dispatches for us to carry.”

“Don’t you remember, he said, ‘Go to Fort Scott and do as the post
commander directs you’? That’s all. You ‘ll get your orders when you
arrive there.”

Satisfied with the explanation, Harry returned the general’s good-bye,
and so did Jack. The adjutant appeared at this moment, and under
the convoy of a single cavalryman they moved in the direction of the
northern boundary of the camp.

Under the orders of the adjutant the picket allowed the two youths to
pass, and in a few moments they were lost in the darkness. They jogged
slowly along the road until daylight came, and then, as the country
became visible, quickened their pace.

After riding about three hours, and meeting no interruption, they halted
at the crossing of a small creek to eat some of the corn-bread they
carried in their pockets, and give their horses a chance to graze.
It was Harry’s suggestion that they should provide themselves with
corn-bread instead of dry biscuit or hard-tack, such as formed the
rations of the soldiers. “You see,” he explained, “the hard-tack might
give us away in case we are stopped and searched; but if we carry
nothing but corn-bread, which everybody eats in this country, it won’t
be at all suspicious.” Jack agreed to the soundness of this argument,
and accordingly corn-bread formed their sole supply of provisions, with
the addition of a few slices of bacon.

While they were lying on the ground, indulging in their very plain meal,
a party of ten or twelve men appeared suddenly, from the direction they
intended to go. Their leader brought them to a halt, and they quickly
surrounded the two boys.

Harry and Jack were prepared for just such an emergency, and continued
to munch their corn-bread with the greatest unconcern. The leader of the
scouting party asked who they were and where they were going.

“We’s from Forsyth way, and want to find some Home-Guard Yankees that
stole two of our horses,” Harry explained.

“Forsyth way? Then you know Pony Matteson, down on Dobbin’s Branch.”

“Don’t know him,” answered Harry, “but I’ve heard tell of him. We ain’t
lived there long enough to know many folks; used to live up close to
Rolla, till the Yanks drove us out six months ago.”

This suggestion appeared satisfactory to the questioner, as it implied
the soundness of the youths on the war-question. But he was not
altogether convinced, and asked if they’d been in the army.

Harry answered that they tried to get down to join Price’s army before
the battle of Pea Ridge, but were captured by the Yankee soldiers, and
only got away by promising to go home and stay there. Since the battle
the country had been in the hands of the Yankees and Home Guards, and
they had to hide in the bushes most of the time to keep out of the way.

Then he went into a general denunciation of the Yankees, and gave
details, somewhat garrulous, about their appearance and conduct. To this
he added stories of what the people around the battlefield said about
them, and altogether gave them anything but a good character.

The leader cut short the talk by ordering the boys to stand up. Needless
to say they obeyed, but with a wondering expression on their faces.

“We’ll go through you,” said he, with more emphasis than civility in his
tone, “and if we find out you’re lying it ‘ll be bad for you.”

At his orders four of the men searched the youths, turning their pockets
inside out, and looking in the inside of their hats and shoes. If
any dispatches had been concealed there they would surely have been
discovered. By advice of General Vandever, rather than their own
inclination, they had taken no weapons of any kind, and now they thanked
their stars that they were unarmed. Had they carried their pistols they
would have been of no use at this juncture, and would certainly have got
them into trouble.

Harry had a pocket-knife, very old and worn, and this he was allowed to
keep. Jack had a dozen fish-hooks in his pocket and three or four yards
of line, in addition to eight or ten dollars in rebel shinplasters. The
shin-plasters and fish-hooks were appropriated by the searchers, and
also the line, the captain remarking that they could buy more line when
they got home. The pieces of corn-bread which they had in their pockets
were left to them, along with the pocket-knife, and then they were told
they might go.

Jack protested against the loss of his fish-hooks, but he did not
continue the protest very long. Then Harry assumed the role of
questioner, and asked about the roads leading to the northwest, and was
particularly anxious to ascertain if any Home Guards had been seen in
that direction. He described the lost horses minutely, and asked the
captain to send word to James Pratt at Forsyth in case he found out
where the horses were.

With this parting request he mounted his steed, thankful that it was
left to him, and Harry followed his example. It was fortunate for the
youths that the scouting party were all well mounted and their horses
were fresh, as they would have been quite likely to ask for an exchange,
and make it, too, without waiting to ascertain if an exchange was
desired by the parties of the second part.

“They’re pretty searching in their investigations,” said Harry, as
soon as they were out of sight and hearing. “It was lucky we had no
dispatches about our hats or boots.”

“Yes, indeed,” responded Jack. “Wonder what the next party ‘ll do?
Perhaps they ‘ll make us take off our clothes and see if we have n’t
something written on our skins.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Harry. “I ‘ll suggest it to General Yandever
the next time he wants to send a courier through the enemy’s country.”

“I have it,” exclaimed Jack. “Why not put a dispatch under a porous or
some other plaster between a fellow’s shoulders? Nobody would think of
disturbing it.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” was the reply. “The plaster is an old trick
of diamond smugglers; it has been successfully used, and it has also
been detected. It might work on these country jayhawkers, but anybody of
experience is sure to have heard of it.”

[Illustration: 259]

As they rode along they busied themselves with devising means of
concealing dispatches and making ciphers which would be absolutely blind
to the uninitiated and only read by those possessing the key. As fast as
one of them designed a mode of concealment the other cited an instance
of its previous use, and whenever one proposed a cipher the other
managed in one way or another to show its defects.

They had about come to the conclusion that Solomon was right when he
said there was nothing new under the sun, when suddenly a gruff voice
from the bushes at the roadside called out:

“Halt, there!”

They looked in the direction whence the sound came, and saw the muzzles
of four or five rifles pointing directly at them. It is needless to say
they halted.



CHAPTER XXXIV. CAPTURED AGAIN--HOW JACK “PLAYED CRAZY.”


|Their new captors proved to belong to the band through whose hands
they had passed, as already described, and after another examination, in
which their pockets were again turned inside out, they were allowed to
proceed. As they rode on Jack suggested a new idea for their actions
the next time they were stopped, as he was fearful they might encounter
somebody from “Forsyth way,” and thus it would be discovered that they
were not telling the truth.

“I tell you what,” said Jack, “the next time they stop us, if they don’t
come on us too suddenly, I ‘ll play crazy.”

“How ‘ll you do it?” Harry asked.

“Why, I ‘ll act crazy or idiotic enough, and you can say you’re my
brother taking me home. We live somewhere in the western part of
Missouri, and have been away from home a long time; or perhaps you can
locate us in Kansas, near Fort Scott.

“All right,” responded Harry, “we ‘ll try it on and see how it works.”

They did n’t have any occasion for trying it that day, as they
encountered no other roving bands. They stopped at two or three houses
along the road, partly to ask the way and partly to keep up their
assumed characters by asking if anything had been seen of some Home
Guards with two horses, one a dark gray with a short tail and one ear
notched, and the other a roan that carried his head very high and had
a white patch on the side of his nose. The white horse was called
Ironsides, Harry explained, and the roan one Tatters. The people were
evidently suspicious of strangers, and did not welcome them with a show
of delight, but they gave them the directions they wanted about the
roads. They were careful not to ask for Fort Scott, or any other
place in Kansas, but confined their inquiries within the boundaries of
Missouri. Night overtook them at a deserted house, and they at first
thought they would sleep there, but after some deliberation concluded
it would not be altogether safe. By good luck they found concealed among
the trees a small haystack, which not only gave them a sleeping-place,
but all the feed they wanted for their horses. They made a supper from
their bread and bacon, and then picketed their animals securely, and
while one of them watched the other slept. They feared to be surprised
during the night or early morning by the owner of the haystack, or some
one who knew of its existence, and they naturally wished to have time to
get away if possible, by discovering the approach of strangers.

They were not disturbed, and in good time in the morning they took to
the road again in the direction of Fort Scott. The direct route would
have carried them through Granby and Carthage, but they prudently
avoided both these places by taking roads that led around them.

About ten in the forenoon they came to a house where there were signs of
habitation, and Harry suggested that it would be a good place for Jack
to experiment in “playing crazy.” So they rode up to the house and were
met by an old man and two or three women, who came to the door as they
were seen approaching.

Jack sprang from his horse and rushed at the man as though he were an
old and intimate friend. The man drew back in alarm.

“Don’t mind him,” said Harry. “He’s crazy, and thinks every old man he
sees is his father who died ten years ago.”

“How de do, father?” said Jack, taking the cue from Harry; “so glad to
see you, father, after all this time. Where’ve you been so long?”

The man thought it best to humor the boy, and said he had n’t been far
away; only down to the next town.

“He’s my brother,” said Harry, “and the doctors say the only thing to
cure him is to take him home. We’ve been down South, in Arkansas, and
we’re going home to Bourbon county, Kansas, where mother lives.”

“Say, father, I’m real hungry, and thought you’d have breakfast ready,”
 said Jack. “You know, you’ve always had breakfast ready long before this
time.”

There was method in Jack’s madness that might have roused suspicion, but
the very boldness of the suggestion was calculated to disarm it.

“That’s the first sensible thing he’s said to-day,” remarked Harry; “for
I’m sure the poor boy must be hungry, as he has n’t eaten anything since
yesterday. The doctor told me he’d come to his senses some time when he
wanted anything real bad.”

The women had crowded around the group and were joined by half-a-dozen
tow-headed children, that one after another put in an appearance from
inner rooms or the rear of the house. Great sympathy was shown for the
poor crazy boy, and a breakfast of corn-bread and bacon, the best that
could be offered, and very acceptable it was, was set before them.

Jack, while they were preparing breakfast, had gone about the house
criticising everything and commenting freely on the appearance of its
occupants. He was shrewd enough to make his comments of a flattering
character; he praised the beauty of the unkempt children; thought one of
the women looked like the governor’s wife at Little Rock, and was sure
she was his sister. When she denied the relationship Jack assumed
anger, and Harry whispered to her that she had better humor him, as she
certainly did resemble the governor’s wife enough to put the idea in the
boy’s head.

Jack insisted that the governor’s wife was the charmingest lady in
Arkansas, and as Harry echoed the sentiment he found it was not received
unkindly. Instead of eating their corn-bread dry they had molasses on
it, a small jug of that precious article being brought out from some
place of concealment by the woman who resembled the heroine of the
gubernatorial mansion of the capital of Arkansas.

The boys could not pay for their breakfast, as they had nothing to pay
with. At a signal from Harry, Jack assumed an air of somnolence, while
the sane brother told the news from Arkansas and answered all questions
about the Yankee soldiers down near the frontier. He explained that he
had no difficulty in coming right through the Yankee lines, as they
took pity on his poor crazy brother, but they would not let them stop
anywhere in the camp nor look around to see what they had there.

Soon after they had finished breakfast they continued their journey,
accepting with many thanks a goodly parcel of the bacon and bread which
had been left over from the meal and would form an excellent supper.
Until long after they were out of sight of the house Jack continued
to wear the idiotic expression of countenance by which he had so
successfully carried out his deception.

“I was half ashamed of myself, in fact a good deal more than half,” said
he, “when I found how kindly they treated us. They took pity on me and
gave us a good breakfast, which we sadly needed, and they could n’t have
been more sympathetic if we’d been of their own kith and kin.”

“And to think I flattered that woman into believing she looked like the
wife of the governor of Arkansas, whom I’ve never seen, and don’t know
how she looks. Well, anyway, she had a good, pleasant face, and if the
governor’s wife has as kind a heart His Excellency may be proud of her.”

“We ‘ll get even with them and make a return for their kindness one of
these days,” said Harry; “and perhaps we ‘ll do it very soon. But it
will never do to let them know how they were imposed upon, as it would
be a reflection on their discernment.”

Nothing of consequence happened to the youths until late in the
afternoon, when they were suddenly confronted by ten or twelve
rough-looking fellows, armed with shotguns and squirrel-rifles, after
the usual style of the scouting parties they had already seen. But if
there was any difference between this party and its predecessors, it was
in favor of the earlier ones, as the crowd they were now facing seemed
to be decidedly a worse lot. With their weapons aimed at the heads of
the youths they ordered them down from their horses, threatening to
shoot them if they did n’t get down at once.

“Now I’ll do the crazy, idiotic trick,” whispered Jack.

Harry got down from his horse, but Jack sat still and stared vacantly
and with open mouth at the rangers.

“Get off that horse!” said one of the men, “and be quick about it.”

“Don’t mind him!” exclaimed Harry; “he’s my crazy brother, and I’m
taking him home. He don’t know what he’s doing.”

This seemed to amuse the strangers, and they drew down their weapons and
waited to see what the lunatic would do next.

Jack continued to hold his mouth open and look as foolish as possible.
He stared at the strangers for two or three minutes, shifting his gaze
from one to another. Finally, pointing to one of the men, he said:

“That’s General Price; I know ‘tis.”

The men laughed heartily at this suggestion, and not the mildest of
the laughers was the individual who had been thus designated. It is not
always that the victim of a joke can enjoy it as well as do those about
him.

The newly-commissioned “general” was mounted on a fine horse (which was
not branded with his initials), and suddenly Jack took a fancy to the
animal and proposed a trade. The general declined, and Jack insisted. To
prove his earnestness he descended from his own steed and tried to
pull the general down from the horse that he coveted; but it is fair
to presume that he did not pull very hard, as the general retained his
place.

All this time the men laughed heartily at the antics of the supposed
lunatic, and they continued to laugh when Jack asked one of them to
shoot the general because he would n’t swap horses. As the man would
n’t comply with his wish, Jack begged for a gun, that he might do
the shooting himself, and when that was refused he threatened to find
somebody who would lend him a cannon, or a whole dozen of them, and he
would come around and shoot everybody that tried to stop him.

Harry begged the men not to oppose Jack, as it only made him worse. Then
Jack proposed to go along with them, so that he could get the general’s
horse whenever he got off; a suggestion that did not meet with approval.
But Jack insisted to such an extent that the general lost his temper,
and began to swear roundly at both the youths, till he was stopped by
the one who appeared to be the leader.

Jack’s ruse worked to a charm, as the rangers were now quite as desirous
of getting rid of the boys as they had previously been to make their
acquaintance. They assisted Harry to get Jack on his horse again, and
told him they would stay where they were till the youths were out
of sight. Harry mounted once more, and with considerable apparent
difficulty persuaded Jack to accompany him. He only succeeded in doing
so by exacting a promise from “General Price” that he would follow them
at once and trade horses when they went into camp that evening.

With this understanding they rode off, and as they went over the crest
of the ridge Harry peered over his shoulder and had the satisfaction of
seeing their late acquaintances riding the other way along the road at
a smart pace. They were greatly relieved when they saw the last of the
jayhawkers, and devoutly hoped they would not encounter them again.

To make sure of being out of their reach, they rode at a good speed for
two hours and more. The sun was about setting when they came to a vacant
house. While they were looking through it and its outbuildings, in
search of feed for their steeds, and possibly for something they could
put into their own mouths, a squad of horsemen dashed up to the door,
and they found themselves prisoners once more.

Things were getting lively, but they felt easy this time, as they saw
that the uniform of their captors was the union blue. The squad was
quickly followed by another and then by another, until not less than
fifty mounted men were assembled. They were under the command of a
captain, who proceeded to interrogate the young prisoners.

Harry was inclined to be suspicious, as he had been told that a band
of thieves wearing the federal uniform was scouring the country and
committing atrocities such as the worst of the secession bands had
rarely been accused of. So he answered by telling the old story of
having come from the neighborhood of Forsyth, and being in pursuit of
some horse-thieves. He again described the missing horses, and asked if
the depredating Home Guards had been seen by the captain or his men.

His course was a prudent one, as we can easily see. In case his captors
were really union cavalrymen he knew that no harm was likely to come to
Jack or himself. He was ready to declare who and what they were as soon
as he was satisfied of the genuineness of the apparent unionists; but,
if on the other hand, they should prove to be the band of murderers of
which he had heard, the fate of both the youths would have been sealed,
and their lives forfeited if they had avowed their real characters.

Harry and Jack endured very well the searching investigation of the
captain; stuck to the original story and did not reveal their true
characters, and were finally turned over to the care of the guard, who
treated them kindly, though without giving them the least chance for
getting away. This was an indication in the right direction, and Harry
proceeded to follow it up.

Finding that the sentinel who had them in charge was inclined to be
talkative, he engaged him in conversation, and soon learned enough to
convince him that he was among friends. Then he asked to be taken before
the captain again, as he had something to say that he had hitherto
concealed.

His request was conveyed to the captain, and he soon followed
the request. When he came into the officer’s presence, the latter
impatiently said:

“Well, young fellow, what is it now?”

“I want to say,” responded Harry, “that we haven’t told you the truth.”

“That’s nothing surprising,” was the reply; “very few people tell it
nowadays in this part of the country.”

“We’ve told you we were secesh,” explained Harry, “and we’re nothing of
the sort.”

“That’s too thin,” exclaimed the captain; “if you think you’re going to
play union on me you’re mistaken.”

He looked the youth straight in the eye as he said this. Harry met his
glance firmly, and after a moment’s pause answered:

“We don’t propose to play anything on you now, since we’re satisfied
you’re union soldiers. We were afraid you might be guerrillas in
disguise, and so told the horse-stealing story that we’d made up for our
protection.”

“Well, what are you, anyway, and where are you going?”

“We’re from General Curtis’s army, and are going to Fort Scott as soon
as we can get there.”

Instantly the captain’s manner changed. He arose from his seat and said
he thought they were the very boys he wanted to find.

“Anyway,” he continued, “we ‘ll accommodate you by taking you to Fort
Scott. If you’ve told the truth it will be all right, and if you’ve lied
and are the secesh you first made yourselves out to be you ‘ll have a
taste of the guard-house that ‘ll cure you of a habit of wandering from
the truth.”

Then the captain gave orders that the youths should be carefully looked
after and not have a chance of escaping, but at the same time they
should be permitted to ride their own horses and have every privilege
consistent with being carefully guarded. “They are probably all right,
but they may be all wrong, and so we won’t take any chances on them,”
 the captain remarked to his lieutenant, as the youths disappeared in
charge of their guard.

Bright and early the next morning the whole party was on the road toward
Fort Scott, where they arrived safely, but not without a slight brush
with a small band of guerrillas whom they encountered about a mile from
their camping place. A few shots were exchanged, but at such long range
that it is doubtful if anybody was hurt. Certainly nobody was injured on
the union side, though several bullets whistled very near.

The party which captured our young friends had been sent from Fort Scott
for the double purpose of looking for messengers from General Curtis,
and also to ascertain the whereabouts of any guerrilla bands that
might be infesting the country. Having no proof of their character, the
captain was naturally disinclined to believe their second story. He had
supposed they were lying when they were first brought before him, and,
therefore, was not inclined to accept without a great deal of reserve
the subsequent explanation.

But all doubt was cleared up when the scouting party reached Fort Scott
and handed its captives over to the commandant of the post. Colonel
Hinton, the officer who then held that position, questioned the youths
briefly and learned when and how they were sent away. When satisfied on
this point he asked for their dispatches.

“We have n’t any,” Harry answered. Then he told the circumstances
attending their departure.

“But I’m sure you have brought them, as General Curtis was to send a
messenger about this time, and that was one of the objects for which I
sent out the scouting party.”

Harry repeated his assurance that they had brought no dispatches; then
the colonel laughed and called his adjutant, and the latter, at the
colonel’s suggestion, proceeded to rip off some of the patches on the
butternut garments of the boys. The first and second of the patches
revealed nothing, but the third yielded a letter written on thin paper,
and inclosed in oiled silk. Another patch brought forth another letter,
and by the time the garments had been restored to their original
unpatched condition, no less than three dispatches had been brought to
light.

[Illustration: 279]

Harry and Jack stood speechless with astonishment. Here they had been
carrying dispatches without knowing it; the mystery of their having
nothing further to do than report to the commander of the post was
explained.

“This is nothing new,” said the colonel, as he silently regarded the
youths. “It is n’t the first time a man has served as messenger without
being aware of it; but your case is n’t equal to that of a man in
Kentucky that I heard of not long ago. He was a rebel spy, who passed
frequently inside our lines. One of our spies who was with the rebel
army used to conceal dispatches in the lining of this man’s overcoat
whenever he saw indications that he was about to go away, and when he
got into our lines an officer who knew his real character used to get
possession of the papers, the efficient carrier being entirely ignorant
of the fact that he was thus being used. He was allowed to come and go,
as his services to the Union were much greater than to the Confederacy,
though he was no friend of ours.”

The colonel then gave orders that the boys should be well fed and cared
for, and told them they could rest a day before setting out on their
return. “And when you go back,” said the colonel, “you will not run as
much risk as you have just been through.”

They had their day’s rest as proposed, and on the second morning after
their arrival at Fort Scott they started on the return journey. Colonel
Hinton assigned a company of cavalry to accompany them, and kept good
his promise that they should not run the same risk as in their trip
upward from the army.

Harry and Jack were not forgetful of the family who fed and cared for
them on the occasion when the latter “played crazy.” A well-wrapped
package containing a pound of tea, and another of coffee, was fastened
behind Harry’s saddle, and while on the way Harry told the captain of
the escort all about their adventure. At Harry’s suggestion the boys did
not show themselves at the house, as he did not wish the people to know
that they had been deceived as to their character. The escort divided a
little while before reaching the house, and while one squad went there
and delivered the parcel, which was supposed to have been sent by the
boys, the other went by at a trot, the youths riding so that they were
screened by some of the men.

The boys were of service to the escort in showing the way to the
haystack which they discovered in the forest, as already mentioned. When
they reached it they had a skirmish with a party of guerrillas who had
already found it, and were camping there comfortably with their saddles
stripped from their horses, and evidently under the belief that nobody
but themselves knew where it was. Our men had the guerrillas at a
disadvantage, and the fight resulted badly for the rebels; two of them
were killed and three wounded, while on our side only one man was hurt,
and he but slightly. Ten horses were captured and taken away in triumph;
some of the guerrillas escaped with their steeds, while the rest fled on
foot. A sharp watch was kept through the night lest they should return
and renew the fight, but they did not put in an appearance.

Just as they were starting the next morning Harry called attention to
a cloud of dust in the road they intended following, and it was
immediately surmised that an enemy was in the neighborhood. Very quickly
the order to mount was given and the column moved in the direction of
the suspicious dust. Hardly had they reached the road before a crowd
of horsemen was seen approaching, and then both sides made ready for a
fight.

There was a good deal of maneuvering for the advantage, and both
parties advanced with great caution. A few shots were exchanged at long
distances, where they could not possibly do any harm, but simply on the
Chinese principle of letting the other side know that warm work could be
expected. As the columns drew closer together the strangers were found
to be dressed in blue, and as they made a similar discovery concerning
our own party the shooting ceased. A flag of truce was then sent
forward, accompanied by Harry, to meet a similar flag from the other
side. The flags met half-way between the lines, and it was quickly
ascertained that the supposed enemy was a scouting party sent out by
General Curtis. Harry recognized the bearers of the flag, and there was
a vigorous hand-shaking followed by a signal for both sides to put off
the idea of fighting for the present unless they could find somebody
else to fight with.

On their arrival in camp Harry and Jack reported immediately to General
Vandever, and then to General Curtis, to whom they delivered the
dispatches they had brought from Fort Scott. The general questioned them
closely in regard to their experiences, and laughed heartily when he
heard of Jack’s exploit in playing crazy. He thought it an admirable
ruse, but said it could not be tried on very often, as it was sure to
leak out. Then he praised the boys for the admirable manner in which
they had performed their difficult task, and said he might have occasion
to call on them again.

“I’m not at all sure,” said Harry, as soon as the boys were by
themselves once more, “I’m not sure that I’m in a hurry to go on another
scouting expedition; are you?”

“As to that,” answered Jack, “I’d like a little rest and a chance to
think it over. But after I’ve rested I shall be ready to try it on once
more, but not through the same country.”

“I don’t suppose General Curtis would send us that way again,” was the
reply, “as he would know that it would be doubly dangerous for us, since
we’ve been seen with the cavalry and would be known to be on the union
side. We could n’t make anybody believe our story about hunting for
stolen horses from Forsyth way.”

On the day of their return to camp orders were issued for the army to be
ready to move on the following morning. The boys wondered if the advance
upon Little Rock was about to commence, and also whether the dispatches
they brought had anything to do with the orders to march.

But the development of events did not indicate that they were going in
the direction of the Arkansas capital, nor yet to Fort Scott or anywhere
near it. The army moved to Forsyth, in Taney county, Missouri, on the
banks of the White river, and nearly due east from Iveitsville, where
the camp had been. For some part of the way the principal road follows
the bank of the river and gives pretty glimpses of the wooded valley and
the meandering stream. Like most of the southwestern rivers, the White
has a very tortuous course, and consequently the road rather touched
upon than followed the stream; to have done the latter would make it
needlessly long.

There was no enemy of consequence along the line of march, and therefore
no opposition was expected or offered. Here and there half-a-dozen
horsemen were seen, but they were not considered worthy of attention.
Forsyth was occupied until the army received a supply of stores and
ammunition, which was sent from Springfield by a somewhat difficult road
through the Ozark mountains.

Our young friends went with dispatches to the post commander at
Springfield, but as the road was well guarded and no rebels or
guerrillas were supposed to be in the neighborhood, they did not
consider the journey of any serious moment, and did not disguise
themselves. The distance is about fifty miles, and they took a part
of two days for the ride, spending the night at Ozark, which is about
half-way between the opposite ends of the route. There was so much
up and down hill to the road that they did not find it an easy one to
travel in a hurry, and besides, they were carrying out the orders of the
general in spending the night at Ozark, where there was temporarily a
garrison of fifteen or twenty men.

“It is a very pretty mountain country,” said Harry afterwards, when
speaking of the journey, “and I wished I could make sketches of some
of the landscapes along the road. In some places you look down a long
distance in the valleys, and in others you are completely shut in and
wonder how you will ever get out of there. An interesting feature of the
country is the large springs that abound all through it; they are like
the great springs we saw at Cross Hollows in Arkansas, and doubtless
have the same sort of origin. There is one spring near the village
of Ozark which forms the head of a good-sized brook, just as does the
spring at the head of Sugar Creek.”

At Springfield they found very little change in the state of affairs
since they passed through the town on their way to Sugar Creek and Pea
Ridge. The garrison had thrown up earthworks to protect themselves
in case of an attack by the rebels, as it was thought possible that a
column of cavalry, or possibly some marauding expeditious like those
of Quantrell and Todd, might take a notion to pay a brief visit to the
place, and the commandant did n’t propose to be caught napping. The
supplies for General Curtis were being pushed forward as fast as
possible, but the bad condition of the roads and the scarcity of draft
animals greatly hindered the work. Mules and horses were in great
demand, and considering the great numbers of these animals that had been
completely worn out and used up in the arduous service of transportation
in the southwest, the great wonder is that supplies could be sent
forward at all.

They remained two days in Springfield and then started on their return
to Forsyth. Not dreaming of any danger, they did not deem it worth their
while to so time the journey as to spend the night under the protection
of the guard at Ozark; instead of doing so, they passed through that
town and lodged in a house several miles beyond, where they had an
exciting adventure, as the sequel will show.



CHAPTER XXXV. A TREACHEROUS HOST--HOW THE BOYS TURNED THE TABLES.


|The house where they asked for entertainment for the night was a
two-story frame building, and belonged to a well-to-do farmer, who was
the owner of ten or twelve negroes, and therefore one of the aristocracy
of southwest Missouri. Being an owner of slaves, he was naturally in
sympathy with secession, though he professed the most ardent unionism
whenever he was visited by any party of soldiers wearing the federal
blue. His family consisted of his wife and two daughters. His son had
gone to join Price’s army, and the father took great pains to explain
that He had done so greatly against the parental will.

The pronounced unionism of the man did not arouse any suspicions in the
minds of Harry and Jack, who talked freely with him during and after
the supper which was set before them. They retired early to bed, as they
were wearied with their day’s ride and intended to be off at an early
hour in the morning, so as to reach Forsyth in good season. On their
arrival, before dark, they accompanied their horses to the barn and saw
them fed and cared for by one of the negroes, whose good graces they
secured By slipping a quarter into his hand. They took a general survey
of the barn and its surroundings, more from habit than from any thought
that such knowledge might be useful to them before the next morning.

The room where they slept was in the upper story of the house, and there
was a window in it which opened upon a shed that served as a kitchen.
There was no means of fastening the door, and neither of the youths
thought there was any special occasion for securing it, as they did not
apprehend any disturbance from the family, and it was hardly likely that
an outsider could make an entrance without being stopped by some one
below stairs.

They threw off their clothing and retired to the double bed which stood
in one corner of the apartment, and in less than five minutes both were
sound asleep. Harry was on the front of the bed, while Jack lay next to
the wall.

About midnight Harry was waked by a hand upon his shoulder, and he was
about to ask, “Who’s there?” in an audible voice, when he heard a gentle
“Hush!” close to his ear.

Instantly collecting his thoughts, he asked, in the same low whisper:

“What’s the matter?”

“Hush! don’t speak, and don’t move till I’ve been gone five minutes.
Keep still, and listen.”

“Certainly,” said Harry; “what’s the trouble?”

“Father’s gone to get some men, who ‘ll carry you off. They are hiding
in the woods a mile or so back from here, and he’s just gone for ‘em.
You’ve time enough to git away, and you’d better git.”

“We ‘ll git, you bet,” answered Harry; “but who are you?”

“Never mind,” was the soft answer, “I’M your friend, that’s all.”

“I want to know,” said Harry, “as it may be in our power to do you or
your people service some time. You may be sure we won’t betray you.”

“Well, if you must know, I’m Cordelia, the youngest daughter of Mr.
--------, who is such a Yankee when any of you fellers comes ‘round. He’s
secesh though, and so are we all, for that matter; but promise me you
won’t say so to anybody.”

Harry made the required promise, and then Miss Cordelia explained that
she overheard her father and mother talking about how they could have
the young Yanks carried off into the woods and kept there. “I did n’t so
much mind your being just carried off,” she added, “but I did n’t know
but they might kill you as they’ve killed some of the union men about
here. I’d taken a sort o’ liking to both of you, and did n’t want any
harm to come to you. And that’s why I came and told you.”

“Now,” she added, “I’ll creep back to where sister Jane and I sleep, and
you must n’t stir for five minutes. Don’t try to go downstairs and out
of the house that way, but get out on the shed, and at the further end
of it you ‘ll find a big chimney that’s built up in steps like, so that
you can get along it down onto the ground. Then find your horses and be
off jest as quick as you can. There’s a little lane from the back of the
barn that goes downhill, and if you keep along that lane and then turn
to the right where it forks, you ‘ll come out on the main road about a
quarter of a mile from the house. Now, good-bye!”

“Good-bye!” whispered Harry, “and be sure we won’t forget your
kindness.” And as he said so he pressed to his lips the hand that had
been resting on his shoulder, and which he took hold of just as it was
being removed.

Then he roused Jack, who would have spoken aloud, had not Harry
pressed a hand on his mouth and whispered, not as softly as the recent
whispering had been, that he’d better shut up. As soon as Jack was
fairly awake the situation was explained, and the five minutes in which
they had been enjoined to lie still were fully taken up in laying plans
for getting away.

“In the first place,” said Harry, “we ought to fasten the door of the
room, so as to delay our would-be captors as long as possible.”

“That’s so,” said Jack; “but how’ll we fasten it?”

“I think the chair will do it,” was the reply; “at any rate I ‘ll try
it. We might move the bed against the door, but in doing it we would be
very likely to make a noise.”

They dressed themselves quickly, but without noise, occasionally
glancing out of the window to the starlit but moonless sky. When they
had completed their toilets, all but putting on their shoes, Harry
leaned the chair against the door and found it made an excellent wedge
beneath the latch, and would greatly hinder an attempt to force an
entrance.

“That’s a splendid way to fasten a door,” whispered Harry. “I got
the idea from Mr. Johnson, a commercial traveler, who used to come
to father’s house. He said that if you take a chair or a strong
cane,--anything in fact that will go under the latch and rest on the
floor at a sharp angle,--it will defy any effort to open the door short
of bursting it in.”

“All right,” answered Jack; “let’s have short talks and quick business.”

Then they opened, and very softly opened, the window, and with their
shoes in their hands stepped out on the roof of the shed. Creeping along
the roof they reached the chimney without making a sound, and found the
place that was “built up in steps like” and facilitated their descent to
the ground.

There they sat down and put their shoes on, and then they moved in the
direction of the barn. But just before reaching it they heard voices
that made them pause. After listening a moment they sought shelter
behind a broken cart that offered a friendly place of concealment.

A group of five men on horseback came up and drew rein within a few
feet of where the youths were lying. They talked in low tones, but loud
enough to be distinctly heard, and both Harry and Jack perceived that
one of the voices belonged to their host.

“We’d better get their horses out first and saddle’em,” said Mr.
------(we ‘ll call him Jones, but that was n’t his name or anything like
it), “and then you won’t have to do it afterwards. I can help you now,
but could n’t when the young Yanks are looking on.”

“All right, squire,” was the answer, and with that all slid down from
their horses. The bridles were placed in the hands of one who appeared
to be the youngest, as he certainly was the smallest, of the party, and
the others proceeded to bring out and saddle the horses of Harry and
Jack.

When this had been done Mr. Jones suggested that all the horses should
be tied to the fence close to the barn, so that Billy, the man who had
been holding the five steeds, could be free to help them in case there
was occasion for anything. This was agreed to, and Billy was left to
watch outside while the rest of the party entered the house. Mr. Jones
was to retire to bed and thus give the capture the aspect of something
that had been done against his will. In case of any outside alarm, Billy
was to strike against the barn-door three times; it had been proposed to
fire a shot from his rifle, but on careful consideration it was thought
the other signal would answer just as well and be less suspicious to
ears for which it was not intended.

The four disappeared in the direction of the house, and from their place
of concealment Harry and Jack surveyed the scene and formed their
plans. Having nothing else to do, the five horses of the guerrillas were
inclined to quarrel with the two strange ones, and the disturbance they
made gave our friends an opportunity to whisper easily to each other,
without danger of being overheard by Billy.

“We must watch our chance,” said Harry, “and jump on his shoulders so as
to bear him to the ground before he can call out for help.”

“That won’t do,” said Jack, “as he might give a yell as he goes down.
Better drop him with a club, and then he ‘ll be senseless the moment it
hits him and will stay so long enough for us to get away, and there ‘ll
be no danger of his hollering.”

Harry did not altogether like the idea of the club, but he realized that
it was a case of self-preservation, and the treatment was no worse
than what Mr. Billy would be ready to apply to them without the least
compunction. So he assented to Jack’s proposal, and the two armed
themselves with clubs, which were conveniently furnished by the spokes
of a crushed wheel of the cart.

“I reckon them strange horse shad better be a little further off,” said
Billy to himself, “and then there won’t be so much furse.”

Suiting the action to his thought, he proceeded to separate the old from
the new, and while he was occupied with this prudential duty Harry and
Jack crept up behind him and, at an opportune moment, felled him with a
blow from one of the cart-spokes. He went down without a sound; in less
than a minute a handkerchief had been tied across his mouth, in which a
corncob was inserted as a gag, his hands were securely fastened behind
him, and his feet were tied together. He was not likely to give an
alarm, no matter how soon he revived.

Harry and Jack then took possession of the seven horses, mounting their
own and leading the other five. Harry took charge of three, and left the
other two to Jack. They went at a walk down the lane which the girl had
indicated, and on reaching the high-road quickened their pace as much as
the led horses would permit.

“It was very kind of them to saddle our horses for us,” said Jack, “and
to save us any trouble about it.”

“Yes,” replied Harry, “and I’d give one of their saddles to hear their
remarks when they find we’re not in the house, and come outside and see
the way that Billy is waiting for them.”

“I’m afraid their remarks will not be of a Sunday-school character,” was
Jack’s answer, “nor very respectful to us.”



CHAPTER XXXVII. CONVICTED BY A DUMB WITNESS--SHORT RATIONS--A CAPTURE.


|The boys pushed on as fast as they could, but it was not possible to
make so good time with so many horses to lead as though they had been
unencumbered. But they had a good start at any rate, and besides,
they had brought away the horses of their would-be captors, and thus
diminished the chances of pursuit.

“Those fellows from the woods have n’t any horses to follow us with,
that’s certain,” said Harry; “but there’s no telling how many our late
host may have in his barn, or close by in the brush.”

“That’s so,” answered Jack; “but I don’t believe he has many. There was
only one in the barn when we put up our horses, and we’ve got him along
with us. But quite likely he has some out in the brush, and they may
scare up two or three saddles and come after us. What shall we do if
they turn up?”

“Let their horses go, and cut for Forsyth as fast as we can,” said
Harry; “that’s the only thing I can suggest, or at any rate the safest
thing. They ‘ll stop to get their horses, and we ‘ll easily outrun
them.”

Jack agreed to the suggestion, and it was resolved to put it into
practice in case of necessity. As time went on it was evident that Mr.
Jones did n’t have any extra horses handy, as there were no indications
of pursuit, and as daylight approached the boys began to feel safe.
Every hour brought them nearer the camp of the army, and they knew that
once within the lines they could tell their story in perfect security.

Suddenly they heard the sound of horses’ feet behind them, and as
they looked back they saw three or four men riding rapidly in their
direction. The glance showed that the men were in the costume of the
country, and quite likely they were the pursuers whom the boys dreaded.

“We’re in for it now,” exclaimed Harry. “Let go your horses and I ‘ll
let go mine.”

“Not much,” answered Jack; “just look ahead.”

Harry looked and saw approaching from the other direction a squad of ten
or twelve cavalry in the Union blue.

Harry wanted to shout, “Hurrah!” but just then he was too much occupied
to do it. He took in the situation in an instant; they were about
equally distant from their pursuers and the cavalry, and the advantage
in their favor was that they could get to the shelter of their friends
before they could possibly be overtaken by the bushwhackers. The latter
also saw the predicament they were in and immediately checked their
speed. The sergeant of the cavalry saw that there was something wrong,
and he and his men came forward at a gallop.

“Go for those fellows and I ‘ll explain afterwards,” said Harry, as the
sergeant drew rein near him. The sergeant recognized the youths and did
not wait for further words. Away went the cavalry in chase, and in a
little while returned with two captured horses and one man, the rest
having got away.

The cavalry squad accompanied the boys to the picket line, which was
only half a mile further along the road. The picket-guard was just then
being relieved, and the prisoner was turned over to it and sent to camp
along with the captured horses. The squad then proceeded on the foraging
expedition for which it had started when it so opportunely met our
young friends and saved them from trouble. The boys went triumphantly
to General Vandever with their prizes, and told the story of their
adventure to a group of interested listeners. They were the heroes of
the day, and received a liberal amount of praise for the shrewd manner
in which they not only got out of their predicament, but turned it to
their advantage. Of course they carefully concealed the part which
the girl played in warning them, but pretended that they overheard the
conversation between Mr. Jones and his wife after they had retired and
were supposed to be in bed.

The prisoner stoutly denied any complicity in the attempted capture of
the youths, and professed the most thorough ignorance of them or any
desire to pursue and retake the runaways. He explained that he and his
friends had come from Douglas county in search of some stray cattle,
and were just on the point of turning back when they saw the boys and a
moment afterward the cavalry.

There was nothing to disprove his story, and no evidence against him
except the circumstantial evidence that he and his friends were riding
very rapidly toward the youths before they saw the cavalry, and tried
hard to get away immediately afterwards. If their mission was an
innocent one, there was no reason for their fast riding; and furthermore
they had no need to be as alarmed as they were on seeing the soldiers.
But of course this was only circumstantial, and he might have
been released but for a suggestion from Harry, on which action was
immediately taken.

The five horses which Harry and Jack had secured at the time of their
hasty flight from Mr. Jones’s house were turned loose in the yard; they
had not been fed since their night-journey, and might fairly be supposed
to be hungry.

Soon after they had thus been put by themselves the officer who had
charge of the prisoner suggested that they would go and see what the
general had to say on the subject of liberating the captive. As if by
accident they crossed the yard where the horses where inclosed, the
prisoner not suspecting the trick and being too intent on his release
to observe the presence of the captured animals, especially as they were
mingled with some ten or twelve others.

As they entered the yard one of the horses came familiarly up to the
prisoner, rubbed his nose against the man’s shoulder, and in other
ways gave most positive testimony that he had found his master. The
identification of the man by the horse was complete. As the officer and
his charge walked around the yard and then out of it, the horse followed
like a dog; and though the man protested that he had never before set
eyes on the animal, the evidence was altogether too strong against him
to be doubted.

“That’s enough,” said the officer, when the horse had followed the man
for five or six minutes. “We’ll hold on to you for a while and see what
‘ll turn up. Guess we ‘ll send you to St. Louis and have you tried for
bushwhacking.”

At this the fellow broke down and confessed to his connection with
the plan for abducting the boys. Then he was plied with questions, and
before his inquisitors were through with him they had elicited a good
deal of valuable information. On the strength of this information an
expedition was immediately sent out, which succeeded in capturing a
small camp and securing a goodly supply of provisions that had been
accumulated for the purpose of sending to Price’s army as soon as the
way was open. Altogether the performance of Harry and Jack on that
memorable night “panned out” very well, to use the expression of a
gold-miner belonging to one of the companies of the Ninth Iowa.

A few days after the occurrences above narrated the army moved to
Batesville, Arkansas, farther down the White river, and at a point where
General Curtis expected to be met by gun-boats convoying steamers with
supplies and ammunition for his army. No enemy opposed them, and there
were no incidents of consequence on the march. There was a small force
of rebel cavalry in the town, but it fled before the advance of the army
after firing a few shots, which did no harm to any one.

Harry and Jack now believed that the long-talked-of advance on Little
Rock had begun. Batesville is about one hundred miles from that city,
and if unopposed in its march, the army could easily reach it in a week
or ten days. The rumor went through the army that Little Rock was the
objective point of the campaign, and bets were freely offered that the
stars and stripes would float over the capital of Arkansas long before
the fourth of July.

But there were serious difficulties in the way of the advance in the
desired direction. In the first place, the river was unusually low
for that season of the year, as it had only four feet of water in the
channel, while the gun-boats and most of the transports needed not less
than five or six feet. One of the gun-boats that tried to ascend the
river was blown up by a rebel battery at St. Charles, and the transports
could not move without the aid of their armed brothers. The wagon road
to Rolla was a long one and open to interruptions by raiding bands
of rebels. One entire train was captured and destroyed by them within
thirty miles of Rolla, and other trains were more or less interfered
with. The army was short of food and ammunition, and in such a condition
it could not take the offensive.

To add to General Curtis’s perplexities a part of his army (ten
regiments) were ordered to join the forces of General Halleck, then
besieging Corinth, Mississippi, and to move with all possible haste.
They were ordered in the direction of Cape Girardeau, Missouri, two
hundred and forty miles away. They performed the march in ten days, an
average of twenty-four miles a day, which may be considered one of the
best instances of marching during the war. Many of the men wore out
their shoes on the journey, and were barefooted for the last fifty or
sixty miles. The withdrawal of this force, added to the scarcity of
provisions and ammunition, made the army too weak to venture upon Little
Rock, and General Curtis began to turn his eyes in the direction of the
Mississippi river.

The army remained seven weeks at Batesville, and during that period it
sent out many foraging expeditions, in the hope of collecting provisions
enough to subsist it without drawing upon its scanty supply of rations
which it had received from Rolla. But in spite of all efforts the supply
could not be maintained, and many a time the soldiers had to live two
days upon food that would have been no more than enough for one. The
gun-boats and the transports did not come, and instead of rising the
river continued to fall.

Harry and Jack accompanied many of the foraging expeditions, and, on
several occasions, they were of much practical service. Harry was able
to find concealed stores of pork and bacon where others declared
there was nothing, and one day Jack brought from under a heap of straw
sufficient bacon to feed a whole regiment for nearly a week. Harry had
a keen eye for chickens, and whenever he went on a tour it was a
noticeable circumstance that General Vandever usually had chicken that
day for supper. Jack was as sharp after pigs as Harry was for chickens,
and many were the young porkers that fell into his hands.

One day they ran into a scouting party of rebels, and the foraging party
had a sharp skirmish with their adversaries over the possession of a
haystack. The rebels were discomfited and the unionists secured the
coveted prize, but not until three of their number had been wounded, one
of them severely. The rebels suffered to the extent of having two men
killed, two or three wounded and four captured. The prisoners were taken
back to camp under guard of two soldiers, assisted by our young friends,
who kept a sharp watch to prevent the escape of the captives. During
the march Harry fell into conversation with one of them, and very soon
learned something that caused him to open his eyes with astonishment.

[Illustration: 293]



CHAPTER XXXVII. RETURNING CORDELIA’S KINDNESS--JACK AND HARRY ON A NAVAL
EXPEDITION.


|But though he opened his eyes with astonishment, he did not open his
lips to say why he did so. To have done so would have been imprudent to
the last degree.

The question to the prisoner had revealed the fact that the captive whom
Harry was so closely guarding was the son of Mr. Jones, the treacherous
host from whom the two youths had had such a narrow escape, and the
brother of the girl who had given them the hint which led to their hasty
departure. He had joined Price’s army as originally intended, and was
serving with a cavalry regiment that had been assigned to the duty of
harassing the union forces and preventing their obtaining the supplies
they desired. His company was the one with which the union cavalry
had disputed the possession of the haystack, as described in the last
chapter.

“Now,” thought Harry, “I’ve got a chance to pay off the girl for her
kindness to us. I ‘ll get her brother free and send him home to her. He
‘ll never know how it came about, but I’m sure she ‘ll understand.”

Further questioning showed that another of the prisoners was a near
neighbor of young Jones, and that he was very much attached to Miss
Cordelia; in fact, the twain were lovers, and this circumstance
determined Harry on his course of action, and on the way to Bates-ville
he studied how best to accomplish his object.

He found that the young fellows were heartily tired of the war, and
wanted to go home; this was particularly the case with the young lover,
whose interest was greatly roused when he found that Harry had seen the
girl he left behind him. Harry gave no particulars of his acquaintance
with her, other than that he had stopped at the house of Mr. Jones on
his way from Springfield to Forsyth, and remembered seeing a young
girl such as the prisoner described, or rather such as her brother
told about. He said he could not remember the name, but thought it was
Corinne, or Cor--something or other.

The prisoners were fearful that something terrible would happen to them,
as they had heard the usual wild stories about the barbarity of the
Yankees. Harry encouraged their belief as far as he thought judicious,
in order to make them all the more grateful for any service he might
render them. He promised to do his best to save them from being hanged
or shot, and suggested that a great deal would depend on their conduct.

“If you try to escape,” said he, “you will be shot down at once; but if
you obey orders and do exactly what is told you without question, you
‘ll find it to your advantage.”

They promised everything he asked of them, and on reaching camp they
went demurely to the quarters assigned them, and made not the least
trouble. As soon as he was relieved of his charges Harry went straight
to General Vandever and asked to see him privately, a request which the
general readily granted.

Under the seal of confidence Harry then told the whole story of how he
and Jack had been saved from capture by the warning given by Cordelia,
and how two of the prisoners then in camp were the brother and lover
of the warm-hearted girl. He wanted them set free as a return for
the service she had rendered the two youths, but at the same time he
specially desired that neither the prisoners nor any one else should
know or suspect the real reason of his request.

“We can easily arrange that,” answered the general. “I ‘ll see General
Curtis and ask him to turn the prisoners over to me, to do with as I
think best: I’ve no doubt he ‘ll do it, and if he does there won’t be
any trouble about the other details.”

An hour later the general sent for Harry, who responded with alacrity to
the call.

“It’s all right,” said the general, as soon as Harry came into his
presence. “The five horses that you and Jack captured that night are
worth more to us than the prisoners; the men might not like to know
they’ve been traded for horses, but that’s the way I look at it. Go and
see if you can get the prisoners to take an oath not to serve in the
rebel armies again during the war, and you may tell them they ‘ll be
released if they ‘ll do it.”

Harry went at once to the guard-house, where the prisoners were
confined, and it did not take long for them to make the desired promise.
He explained that he had urged their case before the general, and had
persuaded the latter to grant his request on condition that they went
home at once and stayed there, and furthermore, that they signed the
required oath and gave no further aid in any way to the war.

This being arranged the prisoners were taken before General Vandever,
who gave them a severe lecture, pretended he was opposed to letting them
loose, but had only done so at the urgent request of Harry, who believed
them to be honest, but misguided, and who felt sure they would live
up to their promise. There was much more talk to the same effect, all
tending to show that they owed their liberation to Harry and Jack; and
finally the papers were signed, the oath was taken, and the prisoners
were escorted to the lines and allowed to go on their way toward Forsyth
and home.

It was afterward ascertained that the arrival of the pair at the
Jones’ mansion was the cause of great astonishment to the family, and
especially to the senior Jones, who had been in mortal terror ever since
that night, for fear that the youths would cause his house to be burned
over his head in revenge for his treachery. Cordelia blushed down to the
roots of her hair, but her blushes were attributed to her joy at
seeing her lover and brother safe at home from the wars. No one had
the slightest suspicion that she had aught to do with the escape of the
youths and the capture of the horses. As the returned soldiers babbled
on about the kindness of Harry, and how he had brought about their
liberation, the tears came into her eyes, and it was with great
difficulty that she preserved her composure.

As before stated, the army in camp at Batesville, weakened by the
withdrawal of a portion of its numbers, which were sent to aid in the
siege of Corinth, and, being short of provisions and ammunition, was
in no condition to advance upon Little Bock. Its only line of march
was back to Rolla, or through the country that lay between it and the
Mississippi river. The movement upon Rolla would be a retrograde one,
while that toward the Mississippi would be an advance; consequently the
latter was selected without hesitation.

From the sixth of May until the twenty-fourth of June the army lay at
Batesville, making preparations for its future movements. Word came
that gun-boats and transports were ascending the White river, and
would probably come to Jacksonport, which is twenty-five miles below
Batesville and at the junction of the White with the Black river. For
ten days previous to the departure from Batesville, Captain Winslow, the
quartermaster-in-chief of General Curtis’s array, bought corn and other
provisions, and saved the army rations so that he had enough on hand
for a twenty days’ supply, which was considered sufficient to carry them
through to Helena, on the bank of the Mississippi, in case the gun-boats
and transports should fail to reach Jacksonport. As subsequent events
developed, this precaution was a wise one.

For the first time in its history this part of Arkansas was honored with
a navy. General Curtis built five large flat-boats, with strong decks,
partly for the transportation of supplies and partly for use as pontoons
in case a river was to be crossed. Cotton bales were ranged around their
sides and firmly fastened, as a protection against musketry in case the
rebels should attempt to hinder their progress, and it was thought they
would even be able to stop cannon-shot of the smaller calibers.
There were no naval officers and sailors with the army, and so it was
necessary to improvise them. There was a liberal number of volunteers
for the new service, as it promised to be exciting and was certainly
novel.

Captain Wadsworth, of the Thirteenth Illinois, was put in command of the
fleet, and his company formed the crew. Harry and Jack were accepted as
volunteers to aid in navigating the boats, each of which was provided
with sweeps, or long oars, that were necessary to keep it in the
channel. Some of the old soldiers were accustomed to flat-boat
navigation on the Mississippi, and felt confident they could avoid
getting ashore; but, of course, it was unknown what the rebels might do
to hinder their progress.

Harry was half inclined to back out when he found that the road from
Batesville to Jacksonport did not follow the bank of the river, but
wound among the hills at a considerable distance from it. In case of
an attack upon the naval forces of General Curtis the army would not be
near enough to furnish any efficient aid, except in a few places. But,
having agreed to go, he said nothing; neither did Jack.

The advance of the array moved out of Batesville on the morning of the
twenty-fourth of June. Then came each of the three divisions in its
order, and by noon the town was deserted. The navy pushed off from the
shore and floated slowly down the stream, the captain, who had been
promoted by his associates to the rank of admiral, ordering his men
to make no exertions at the oars other than might be necessary to keep
their craft in the current. Some of the natives of the country offered
to assist as pilots, and one of them who claimed to know all about the
river was taken aboard the “Cordelia,” the boat where Harry and Jack
were serving, and to which they had given the name. He was so enormously
fat that Jack suggested he should be called Pauncheous Pilot, but he was
careful to keep the suggestion from the ears of the subject of it.

The youths had intrusted their horses to the care of two of their
comrades, as it was not practicable to take them on board the
“Cordelia,” which had only sufficient room for her crew and was
encumbered with boxes and other freight. Convenient loopholes had been
made between the bales of cotton, so that the occupants of the boats
could defend themselves from musketry fire without serious risk. The
oars or sweeps were operated in openings between the bales somewhat
wider than the loopholes, and movable screens of thick plank were
arranged so that the oarsmen would be fairly well protected.



CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE BOATS UNDER FIRE--IMPORTANT INFORMATION.


|There was a shot from the bank. The soldiers sprang to their arms and
places, and everybody was ready for business in a moment. The shot had
been fired from a clump of trees on the left bank of the river, and as
the trees were encumbered with thick underbrush it was impossible to see
any one who might be lurking there.

The river at this point was not more than fifty yards in width, so that
any assailants would have the boats in very short range. But not another
shot was heard, and as the boats one after another drifted past the
point, their crews reached the conclusion that the bushwhackers had
concluded to seek safety in flight, or, what amounted to the same thing,
by making no further demonstration.

A mile or so farther down two of the boats went aground on a bar, and it
required a great deal of effort to get them off. Had they been
attacked at this point they would have been at a disadvantage, as their
assailants could have chosen their own distance, and had the protection
of the trees and brushwood along the banks. Harry and Jack began to wish
they had stuck to the road rather than essayed naval service in Arkansas
waters, where there was no chance of running away in case the enemy
proved too strong for them. If they could not resist successfully they
had no alternative but to surrender; and, as Harry expressed it, they
didn’t like to “go around surrendering.”

An hour or more was lost at the point where the boats took the ground,
and when night came on little more than half the distance to Jacksonport
had been accomplished. The boats were tied up to the northern bank,
which was considered safer than the southern one, at a point not more
than a mile from the road taken by the army. The chance of bushwackers
venturing so near was not great, but a careful watch was kept to avoid
surprise.

Early next morning the boats were under way again, and before nightfall
they had arrived safely at Jacksonport, where the advance of the army
had encamped and was waiting for the rest of the column and also for the
boats.

The union of the Black river with the White did not give sufficient
water for the steamboats with supplies to ascend from below, and General
Curtis learned that they could not be expected to come further up than
Clarendon, seventy-five miles below Jacksonport. The only thing to do
was to follow the road and river to Clarendon, and after a halt of five
days the march was continued. Before the army started on its new march
it was reinforced by the arrival of the Second Wisconsin Cavalry which
had expected to join it at Batesville. It had marched from Springfield
without encountering an enemy at any point, though reports were current
of large forces which would obstruct any movements through the country.

Harry and Jack concluded to adhere to the fortunes of the navy in its
further descent of the river, and when the boats dropped off to float
away with the current they retained their places on the “Cordelia.”
 The boats were ordered to proceed to Grand Glaise, twelve miles below
Jacksonport, and there wait further orders. The army at the same time
took up its line of march through the hills and swampy ground east
of the river, and was not expected to join the boats until reaching
Augusta, thirty-five miles from Jacksonport. A regiment of cavalry was
ordered to keep in the neighborhood of the boats to be ready to aid them
in case of necessity, which was not long in coming.

The Sixth Missouri Cavalry met the boats at Grand Glaise and ordered
them to proceed to Augusta, and on they floated with the sluggish
current, winding among the hills and forests that skirt the stream.
Colonel Wood, who commanded the cavalry regiment, said good-bye to
Captain Wadsworth and started for the main army, but before going far he
heard brisk firing from the dense bushes lining the banks of the river
just below Grand Glaise.

Hastily returning, he found the boats had been fired upon, and this time
with more effect than before. Captain Wadsworth was severely wounded,
and some of his men were slightly injured, but nobody was killed.

Harry had a very narrow escape. When the firing began he was working one
of the sweeps to bring the boat into the current, it having threatened
to run upon a bar that projected from the northern shore. A bullet
struck the huge oar on which he was pulling, and buried itself in the
wood within an inch of his hand; another passed through the top of
his hat, and still another lodged in the cotton-bale which formed his
shelter. The men on the boats promptly returned the fire, and by the
time the cavalry reached the spot the assailants had mounted their
horses and disappeared in the forest. How many there were of them no one
could say, as the density of the forest was a complete shield for them.
Natives in the vicinity reported nineteen killed, but this was doubtless
an exaggeration, as there were probably not above that number of them
altogether. The bushes were not searched, either by the crews of the
boats or the cavalry; the latter were too much engrossed with the
pursuit of the assailants to look for dead or wounded rebels, and the
former did not deem it at all prudent to venture ashore.

From this point the boats continued unmolested to Augusta, where it was
decided not to try to take them further, as the road lay too far from
the river to enable the army to come promptly to their support, and the
country was said to be swarming with bushwhackers. All the provisions
and other stores on the boats were taken ashore, and the boats and
their bulwarks of cotton were set on fire and burned. The pilot who had
accompanied them thus far was paid off, but he decided that it might not
be safe for him to return to Batesville, as his neighbors would accuse
him of being altogether too friendly with the Yanks. He was sorry he had
n’t thought of it before, or he would n’t have ventured down the river
at all.

It was the fourth of July when the army reached Augusta, and a salute
was fired in honor of the national independence. Our young friends found
their horses all right and safe in the hands of the friends to whom
they had been intrusted, and it is safe to say that both Harry and Jack
rejoiced to be once more in the saddle.

The old fever for scouting came upon them, and as the army was short of
provisions they proceeded to hunt up something for feeding purposes. In
the outskirts of the town they found a deposit of corn which had been
carefully concealed, and had already missed the sharp eyes of several
squads of soldiers. There were nearly a hundred bushels of it, and
following up their success they came upon another store of still larger
amount. In a clump of forest, half a mile or so out of Augusta, they
unearthed more than a wagon-load of bacon; and altogether their
labors were of material advantage to the little army, which had been
disappointed by the failure of the transports and gun-boats to ascend
the river.

After their return from the discovery of the bacon, an old negro sidled
up to Harry and said he could tell him something he would like to know.

“Out with it,” said Harry. “Don’t keep me waiting. What is it you want
to tell me?”

“Hole on a bit, young massa,” said the negro. “Dere ain’t no hurry ‘bout
it.”

“Well, I’m in a hurry,” said Harry, “and if you’ve any talking to do,
fire away.”

“Now just look a-heah,” said the darky, “an’ I’ll tell yer. ‘Fi tell
somethin’ yer want to know real bad, ‘ll yer give me my free-papers?”

“Certainly,” was Harry’s reply; “if you give us any information that’s
true and useful, you ‘ll get your free-papers fast enough.”

“Dat’s all I want ter know,” continued the colored citizen; “and dis is
what I’se gwine ter say.”

Harry listened patiently while the negro with much circumlocution told
him of a barn full of provisions which had been accumulated, about two
miles out of town, waiting for a favorable opportunity to ship them
to the rebel army or to Memphis, which was then the depot from which a
large part of the forces in the West were supplied. When convinced that
the negro was telling the truth, Harry quickly reported the circumstance
to General Vandever and a detail of cavalry was sent to take possession.
The negro did n’t want to go along with the party, as it would involve
him in suspicion which would be bad for him in future, but he gave such
minute directions that there was no mistaking the place.

They found the barn and also the provisions. The owner of the place at
first denied all knowledge that anything was concealed there, and
said they were welcome to anything they could find, but as soon as the
discovery was made he assumed a different air altogether. He professed
to be a union man, and explained that he had hidden the stuff away to
save it from going to the rebels. “I would rather,” said he, “see it all
burned up than into a rebel mouth; that’s the kind of union man I am.”

The army remained two days at Augusta, and then took up its line of
march for Clarendon, where the transports were said to have arrived
under convoy of a gunboat. The country between Jacksonport and Clarendon
is one of the finest regions of eastern Arkansas. A short distance
from the river the bluffs along the stream fall away into low hills
and gentle undulations, which become less distinct until at the divide
between the White and St. Francis rivers the land becomes an almost
unbroken level. A portion of this flat, alluvial country is in many
places covered with canebrakes, and is often overflowed in the season of
high water. At such times it becomes an almost impassable succession
of swamps and quagmires. But at the time our friends traversed it
the ground was dry and hard and offered no obstacle to passage save
occasionally at the crossings of creeks and rivulets.

Interspersed among these lowlands is a succession of higher grounds,
which are level and rarely broken by anything like an elevation. These
lands are excellent for cotton, and down to the opening of the war they
had annually sent a good supply of the textile plant to market. Cotton
was raised there in 1861 to some extent, but in 1862, by orders of the
Confederate government, much of the cotton land through the South was
planted with corn. The valley of the White river was no exception to
the rule, and as our army moved along it passed many fields of corn, of
which the ears, just then sufficiently advanced to be edible, formed
a welcome addition to the scanty stores possessed by the commissary
department. As a single article of diet, green corn is not to be
recommended, but when combined with other things it is, as everybody
knows, a thing not to be despised.

Every few miles the advance of the army came upon trees felled
across the roads, and considerable time was lost in removing these
obstructions. From the negroes it was learned that there was a
considerable force of rebels at the town of Des Arc, on the east bank
of White river, about half-way between Augusta and Clarendon. They were
said to be about six thousand strong, and to consist mainly of Arkansas
and Texas mounted men, under command of General Rust. As they were at
a convenient striking distance from the road which General Curtis was
following, it was thought quite likely they would make an attack at some
point where they could fight to advantage, and the result proved the
correctness of this belief.

Several timber obstructions were encountered, most of them at the
crossings of small creeks, but nothing was seen of an enemy until the
point was reached where the road from Des Arc joins the main one, about
ten miles to the east of that town. Here was the plantation of Colonel
Hill, an officer of the Confederate army, and his residence and
buildings were at the junction of the roads, in the southwest angle.
North of the Des Arc road was a cotton-gin and press, and close by were
two aboriginal mounds of unknown date. Colonel Hill was then blessed
with his third wife, and the graves of her two predecessors were on the
tops of these mounds, each one surrounded by a fence of white palings.
“It must have been,” said Harry, afterwards, “a cheerful thing for the
third wife to contemplate the graves on these mounds and wonder when her
turn would come and where she would be placed.” Jack thought the colonel
ought to put up another mound, so as to have everything ready for the
good lady’s demise.

The country around the junction of the road had been cleared for
cotton-fields, but a little way beyond it the forests were dense and
afforded good cover for an enemy. The mounted men, in advance, with whom
were Harry and Jack, discovered signs of an enemy lurking in the timber
south of Hill’s house, and word was sent to bring up the infantry. Harry
rode back to carry the order, and in a little while the infantry had
come forward and was ready for business. The Thirty-third Illinois
and the Eleventh Wisconsin were the ones selected for the work; they
deployed as skirmishers, and soon exchanged shots with the rebels, who
were spread out in the timber. The two union regiments were not more
than six hundred strong; they were opposed by about fifteen hundred
rebels, but the disparity of numbers was balanced by the superiority of
the weapons of the former and their good drill and discipline. The rebel
forces consisted of some very raw cavalry from Arkansas and Texas, and
some newly-assembled conscripts who had not been in camp many days and
knew practically nothing about military life.

Soon as the firing began to have anything like vigor to it the
conscripts fled in disorder, but the Texan troops stood their ground
very well. As our right approached the enemy’s left it was met by a
volley which caused two of the companies to fall back a little; the
rebels undertook to follow up the advantage thus gained, and to do so
emerged from the wood into the open ground.

Here they were met by volleys of musketry and by rapid discharges of
grape from two steel howitzers which were brought forward by the First
Indiana Cavalry. This welcome was too much for the rebels, who broke and
fled from the field, leaving a good many of their men dead or wounded.
Some of them retreated to Des Arc, and others along the road to the
south. It was afterwards reported that three or four thousand men were
marching from Des Arc to join them, but were unable to get across the
Cache river, which is too deep to be forded and the single ferry-boat
was not able to bring them over in time to be of use. When it was found
that the other force had been defeated, they gave up the attempt to
interrupt the advance of the union army and marched back to Des Arc.



CHAPTER XL. A JOKE ON THE SPIES--WONDERFUL SHELLS--THE ARMY REACHES
CLARENDON.


|A flag of truce came during the evening, but was not admitted. The
bearers were informed that the dead were being buried by our own men,
and the wounded receiving every attention. The next morning another
flag of truce came, and as there was no good reason for it, the general
naturally suspected that it was a pretext to learn something about our
forces and position.

He admitted the bearers of the flag, and kept them inside his lines all
day, so that anything they might learn by the use of their eyes would
not be of any advantage to their side. The suspicion that the burial of
the dead and the care of the wounded was not the real cause of the visit
was strengthened by the inquisitiveness of some of the men, and the fact
that one of them was discovered making notes of certain conversations
when he thought he was not observed.

Harry was the discoverer of this note-taking, and reported the
circumstance to General Vandever.

“If that’s what they’re after,” remarked the general, “we ‘ll give’em
all they want.”

So he had the visitors transferred from the tent where they were at
the time, and placed in a room in one of the outbuildings not far away.
There was another room in the same building, and the partition between
the two was full of cracks, so that conversation could be heard with
ease from one room to the other.

The general instructed Harry as to what he was to do, and then he went
with his adjutant and two or three other officers to the room adjoining
the one where the truce-bearers were held.

“Here we can talk without being disturbed,” said the general. “My
orderly knows where I am, and if I’m wanted he ‘ll call me.”

Everything was perfectly still in the adjoining room, and it was evident
that the men there were using their ears to the best advantage.

“Now,” said the general, “to begin with, I suppose you don’t understand
why we’re marching south and along the White river.”

There was a pause, and then he continued:

“We’re not strong enough to go to Little Rock now,” he said; “but the
thirty-five thousand men with ninety-two pieces of artillery that will
join us in the next week will put us on the offensive, and then Little
Rock must look out.”

“How are we going there?” queried one of the officers. “General Curtis
told me this morning that we should go across the country to within
about thirty miles of Little Rock, or perhaps twenty miles, and there he
should divide the force. Two-thirds of it will cross on pontoons, which
are being brought along by the new army, and there will be enough of
them to lay three bridges over the river at once. While they oppose us
at one place we ‘ll get over at another, and in three hours the entire
force for that side will be safely landed. Then they ‘ll go to the
rear of Little Rock and lay siege to it, while the other third of our
strength will fire away at it from the other side of the river. There
will be four batteries of heavy siege-guns playing on the town all at
once, and they are bringing two thousand shells loaded with Greek fire
to burn up every house in the place if necessary. Twenty-four hours will
be allowed for sending out women, children and other non-combatants, and
then the battle will begin.”

“But won’t they be likely to interrupt us on the way with General Rust’s
army and other troops they can get together?”

“They may try, but it ‘ll be bad for’em,” was the reply. “The government
has sent us some of the new shells invented by a Yankee somewhere in
Massachusetts, that have done wonderful work in Virginia.”

“What are those? I haven’t heard of them.”

“Well, we’ve been keeping it pretty quiet,” was the reply, “as we don’t
want the rebels on this side of the Mississippi to find it out if we can
help it. These new shells are loaded with a composition that spreads out
when it explodes, and kills everybody within twenty yards. It’s a secret
composition, and the government pays fifty dollars for each shell the
inventor delivers, and he guarantees that if two of these shells are
fired where there is a regiment, it will kill every man in it. They are
not wounded at all, but just fall down as though struck by lightning.
Here’s an account of what they ‘ll do.”

The general took a document from his pocket, and pretended to read a
wonderful story of how the entire garrison of a rebel fort on the James
river was killed by one of these new-fangled shells, which had been
dropped into it from a mortar fully a mile away. He told his friends
they must keep the matter secret, as it was known only to General Curtis
and a few of his higher officers, and they were particularly desirous
that the information should n’t leak out. “There ‘ll be three hundred of
those shells,” said he, “and half of them will be enough to kill all the
rebels in Arkansas.”

Then he went on with other wild yarns with the utmost seriousness, and
at length was interrupted by Harry, who delivered some despatches
just received by General Curtis from General Halleck and brought by
a courier, who came through from Helena in disguise. They announced a
great victory for the union army in Virginia, the imminent capture of
Richmond, the surrender of a large part of Lee’s army, together with
other bits of information that would have been highly important if true.

When it was thought that the eavesdroppers had been properly “loaded,”
 as the general expressed it, the party retired, and the flag-of-truce
bearers were left to ponder on what they had heard. In the afternoon the
army moved forward to take up a new camp, and when the column was
under way--in fact after the greater part of it had marched off--the
truce-party was released and allowed to go back to its own camp.

The seed was sown on good ground. There was great alarm through the
rebel ranks at the new terrors in store for them, and in spite of all
the vigilance of the commanders, there were numerous desertions daily.
The more intelligent among the officers had a suspicion that the
eavesdroppers had been hoaxed, but they were powerless to stop the
spreading of the reports, which grew in horror as they passed from mouth
to mouth. The wonderful shells which could sweep off so many men “as
though they had been struck by lightning” disturbed the dreams of many a
soldier of Arkansas or Texas, and were not often out of his thoughts in
his waking hours.

Very soon after this event the rebels abandoned Des Arc, and
concentrated in the capital or around it. Earthworks were thrown up to
defend the city against the threatened attack, and so much attention was
paid to Little Rock that all other parts of the state were practically
deserted.

And those wonderful shells are yet resting in the brain of the man who
invented them. Perhaps they will be developed in some future war.

It is well to remark at this point that the trick which was played on
the flag-of-truce bearers is by no means a new one, though it was new
enough on that occasion. It was played several times by both sides
during the war; but its most successful performance was by Stonewall
Jackson in one of his campaigns in the Shenandoah valley.

Several captured union officers were under guard in a house in
Winchester, and expected to be sent to Richmond and locked up in
Libby prison. General Jackson had a council of war with his division
commanders in a room adjoining the one where the officers were confined,
lie gave his orders with great exactness, told where each division was
to march, and sent the commanders away one after another to get his
force in readiness. They were to advance on the union position and give
battle, and everything was prepared with the utmost care.

Then he asked his adjutant-general when he had sent the prisoners to
Richmond.

“They have n’t been sent off yet, General,” was the reply. “But we ‘ll
start them soon after daylight. General Stuart said his cavalry must
rest till then.”

“If they have n’t gone now,” said the general, “you’d better parole them
and send them down the valley. Let them start immediately, so that they
‘ll be well out of the way before we begin our advance.”

With this the general went out and was soon followed by the adjutant.
In fifteen minutes an officer came to take their paroles, and they were
escorted to the union lines by a flag-of-truce party. As they passed
through the town they saw that preparations were going on for a
movement, and when they got within their own camp they of course told
what they had heard.

Of course their information was valuable, and preparations were at once
made to resist the advance. Hour after hour passed away waiting for
Stonewall Jackson, but he did n’t come. All those hours he was marching
the other way as fast as possible, and executing one of those movements
for which he was famous. He suddenly appeared at a point where he was
least expected, and then it was realized that his talk in hearing of the
prisoners was all a ruse.

For the rest of the way to Clarendon General Curtis met with no
opposition other than that caused by trees felled across the road. It
had been reported that a gunboat and two transports with supplies had
reached Clarendon and were waiting for him, and he was very desirous
of finding them. The rumor passed along the lines that transports and
supplies were at hand, and so the soldiers pushed vigorously on to that
point.

They reached Clarendon on the afternoon of the ninth of July, and were
bitterly disappointed. The gun-boat and transports had been there and
waited a while, but as they could get no tidings of the whereabouts of
General Curtis, and the rebels were said to be mustering in force for
their capture, it was considered prudent to retire. The transports had
been gone about twenty hours when the advance of the column arrived,
and with them the supplies that had been so anxiously desired. Truly the
army seemed to have been deserted in the wilderness.

From all that could be learned there was no enemy between Clarendon and
the Mississippi, the nearest point of which was about sixty miles away.
There might be a few straggling bands of bushwackers, but nothing that
could make any serious opposition. But sixty miles is a long distance in
a strange country, and when provisions are running short.

The inhabitants of Clarendon were much like those of Batesville and
Jacksonport, thoroughly secession in their sympathies, and wondering
when the war would end, so that they might get their cotton to market.
They had very little to sell in the way of provisions, as they had been
pretty well cleaned out by their own government; but the usual foraging,
in which Harry and Jack took a prominent part, served to bring many
things edible to light.

Most of the able-bodied men were away at the war, leaving behind only
the aged and the boys who were too young for service. Among those who
remained was a lawyer, a dignified and red-nosed citizen of some sixty
or more years, who demanded audience with General Curtis, in order to
prove to him that he had no constitutional right to invade the State of
Arkansas!

[Illustration: 317]



CHAPTER XL. A NIGHT ATTACK BY PIGS--BATTLE BETWEEN FORTS AND
GUN-BOATS--DISASTER TO THE MOUND CITY.


|On the night of the ninth, Harry and Jack had an adventure of a new
sort, which happily turned out to be bloodless.

The greater part of the baggage-wagons failed to come up until late in
the evening, and it became necessary for the soldiers to bivouac without
shelter, as the little town was not equal to their accommodation. Our
young friends picketed their horses, having first cut a quantity of
green oats from a field near by, with which they fed the faithful
animals.

Then they took two or three bundles of the oats to lie upon and
flattered themselves that they would make a comfortable bed, or one
which would certainly be an improvement upon the bare ground. With a
thin layer on the ground and a good-sized bundle for their pillows, they
went to sleep in very short order.

They were sleeping soundly, and possibly dreaming of home and friends,
when they were suddenly and rudely awakened. The night was dark and
their first thought was that they had been surprised by the enemy.

There was a long and very dark form standing over Harry and another over
Jack, and each of the assailants seemed to be looking for the throat of
his victim.

Harry gave his disturber a heavy blow with his fist, which sent him
reeling over upon the soldier who was lying close by and snoring loudly.
The snoring stopped at once, as the fall of the heavy body waked the
soldier, who sprang to his feet and reached for his gun. He had the
impulse to shoot, but did not know in what direction to fire.

Jack grappled with his enemy, and there was a struggle which may be said
to have resulted in victory for both. Jack did not succeed in holding
down his assailant, as the latter slipped through his grasp and made
his escape. But the youth saved his life and was not, in fact, injured
further than a few slight contusions and abrasions.

Another soldier who had been awakened drew his bayonet, and as one of
the attacking force rushed past him the man gave a well-directed prod
with the weapon, which stretched the intruder on the ground. It also
roused a deafening squeal, that indicated the character of the creators
of the disturbance.

It seems that a drove of half-wild pigs had come out of the forest, on
the lookout for something to eat. In the southern states pigs generally
run at large, being called up occasionally by means of a horn, to be
fed and selected for slaughter or other purposes. As they are always
fed when summoned by the horn, they soon learn to come to its call; but
sometimes, when the summonses are infrequent, they grow so wild that
they do not heed the sound. Then they have to be chased up, and the work
of driving them in is no small affair.

Very often they remain in the woods during the day and come around
at night to the neighborhood of the dwellings in search of food. The
southern pigs are like those of any other part of the country, or of the
world, for that matter, as they are gifted with free appetites and are
not over particular about their food as long as it is something edible.

In their nocturnal ramble this drove under consideration had come upon
the sleeping-place of our young friends. Having scented the oats which
the boys had taken to sleep upon, the animals rushed in without ceremony
and proceeded to devour the succulent grain without asking permission of
those who were then in possession. The assault of two of the pigs
upon the bundles which formed the pillows of Harry and Jack gave the
impression that the marauders were seeking to reach the throats of their
victims, and their forms in the darkness were not unlike those of men
stooping forward to attack the slumberers. Two of the pigs paid for the
assault with their lives, and formed a material addition to the bill of
fare of the men whose slumbers they had broken. There was little sleep
in the group for the rest of the night, their hearty laughter over the
incident, and speculations as to whether the rest of the pigs would come
back, having effectually driven sleep from their eyelids.

The presence of the pigs having been discovered, a horn was blown the
next morning and turned to good advantage. Pigs to the number of a
hundred or more came trooping out of the forest, and were enticed into
a yard which had been hastily constructed by some of the soldiers. When
they ceased coming the yard was closed, and the soldiers said afterwards
that pork roasted over a campfire formed an excellent substitute for
other articles of food when the others could n’t be had.

The rumor of the granting of free-papers to the negroes who had been
working on the fortifications or helped to fell timber to obstruct the
march of the army was rapidly spread about Clarendon, and in a few hours
the colored population for miles around seemed to have gathered there.
All declared they had been doing the forbidden work, and all, as far
as it was possible to grant them in the limited time, received their
papers.

“If we had only known it,” said Harry to Jack, when they learned the
state of affairs, “you and I would have tried to get through to bring
news to the fleet, and we would have got through somehow. We might have
taken a skiff and paddled down in the night, and we would have rigged
it up like a log, so that it would have required very sharp eyes to
discover that it was anything else than an ordinary log drifting with
the current. But there’s no use crying over spilt milk, as the old
saw has it, and so we need n’t waste the time over planning for past
performances. But I’d have given a good deal to have known of this in
time.”

Jack agreed with him, and after a very brief talk on the subject they
turned their attention to other matters.

There was no alternative for the army but to make the best of its way to
Helena, on the Mississippi, sixty or sixty-five miles away. The tenth of
July was spent at Clarendon, and at four o’clock on the morning of the
eleventh General Washburne, with two thousand five hundred cavalry and
six mountain howitzers, started on a forced march for the banks of the
great river. They followed the old military road between Little Rock and
Helena. It proved to be a very good road, though there were several bad
places at the crossings of small streams. With a few exceptions, and
those doing no harm, not a shot was fired at them along the whole of the
route, all the forces of the enemy having been withdrawn to the defense
of the White river or to points further back in the interior of the
state.

Harry and Jack were allowed to accompany General Washburne’s advance, as
it was thought they might be useful in case there was any scouting to be
done or any foraging for provisions, but as the march was a forced one
there was no time for anything of the sort, and they had nothing to do
but stick to the column and keep their horses in the road.

About nine o’clock in the forenoon of the twelfth the foremost of
the soldiers rose in their stirrups and gave a loud cheer, which was
speedily carried along the whole line. Cheer upon cheer followed, no one
being told the cause, but everybody realizing that the end of the long
march was near. The spires of the churches of Helena were soon afterward
in full view, and beyond them gleamed the waters of the Mississippi,
reflecting the rays of the summer sun.

Harry and Jack were among the loudest of the cheerers, as they realized
that, for the present, at any rate, their wanderings in the wilds of
Arkansas were at an end. They were weary with the almost unbroken ride
of twenty-eight hours, covered with the dust that rose in clouds from
the dry road, and suffering the pangs of hunger and thirst, but no worse
in that respect than all those about them. But with all their weariness
and hunger, and through all the dust that covered them, their hearts
swelled with joy, and they shouted themselves hoarse over the sight of
the great river of the West.

But now came a new difficulty. Helena had not been occupied by union
troops, and there was no one there to welcome them. The gun-boat fleet
had called there and agreed with the local authorities that the town
should not be harmed as long as no outrages were perpetrated on passing
steamboats. The agreement had been kept, and though several bands
of bushwhackers had dropped in to see their friends, they had been
restrained from making any attacks or otherwise disturbing the peace.
The inhabitants were not particularly loyal toward the government, but
they had heard the fate of several places where boats had been fired
upon, and had sufficient influence to keep their bushwhacking friends
quiet.

As the advance of General Washburne’s cavalry entered the town, several
men, who had been loitering in front of one of the stores, made haste to
mount their horses and get away. A few shots were fired at them, but no
harm was done, and no attempt was made to pursue them. In a little
while the whole force of cavalry had reached the river bank, and the
Mississippi was scanned up and down to discover a steamboat.

General Washburne hoped there would be a gun-boat with which he could
communicate, but no gun-boat was in sight. Soon the smoke of a steamboat
was seen below the town, around a bend of the river, and in due time she
came in sight, slowly stemming the powerful current. It was an ordinary
transport, quite incapable of defense, and the general quickly made up
his mind to stop her by friendly means if he could, or by force if he
must.

As the steamer came in front of Helena flags were waved again and again,
but the boat paid no attention to them. Then a shot was fired across her
bows to warn her to stop, but this had no effect; another shot followed,
and then another, aimed like the first, so as not to harm the boat, but
to make those on board believe that something serious would happen soon
unless she came to a halt. Seeing there was no escape from the supposed
rebels, the pilot headed the boat for the bank and ran in. A dozen or
more soldiers were on her deck with their guns ready for business, but
they soon perceived that resistance to such a force would be useless.
They prepared to surrender and make the best of their misfortune. But
before the gangplank had been run out one of the shrewdest of them
observed that the formidable force was habited in the union uniform,
though it was so sadly covered with dust that it could easily be
mistaken for the confederate gray.

An officer who was among the passengers brought a field-glass to bear
on the party on the bank. He was an old friend of Captain Winslow, the
quartermaster of General Curtis’s army, and was not long in making him
out, in spite of the dust that covered him and his generally bedraggled
appearance after his long ride. Holding aside his glass, he shouted:

“Is Captain Winslow there?”

“Here I am,” was the reply, “and here are the rest of us.”

“All right, pilot,” said the officer; “you’re safe enough now. You’re
captured by our friends.”

In a few minutes the boat had been made fast to the shore, and General
Wasliburne came on board accompanied by Captain Winslow, Captain Noble,
of General Curtis’s staff, and several other officers. There was
a recognition of old friends and introductions all around. The new
arrivals were treated to the best the steamer afforded, and the officer
who had charge of the boat asked what they could do for the weary and
dusty crowd.

“Give us whatever provisions you can spare,” said General Washburne,
“and then hurry up to Memphis as fast as you can with Captains Winslow
and Noble. They ‘ll get supplies for us and have them shipped down here
to meet the army by the time it arrives.”

The boat was not well provided with stores, as she had no occasion for
anything beyond sufficient to feed lier company to Memphis, but
whatever she had was quickly rolled on the bank and handed over to the
quartermaster of the division. When this had been done she immediately
steamed away for Memphis, ninety miles up the river. She was obliged to
lie at anchor during the night, owing to a dense fog, and did not reach
Memphis until the following forenoon.

Supplies were immediately shipped to Helena, and by the morning of the
fourteenth they were piled on the bank--a welcome sight to the soldiers,
that marched in as closely behind the cavalry as it was possible for
infantry to follow. The march from Clarendon was accomplished in little
more than two days, and not a wagon was lost or left behind. By the
evening of the thirteenth all the divisions had arrived, and anxiously
waited the provisions which came to them on the following morning.
Hundreds of hands were ready to assist in the landing, and rarely has a
steamboat discharged her cargo with greater celerity.

The column was followed by a great number of negroes, who feared the
treatment they would receive from their masters after the departure of
the union forces from Clarendon. At one time it was remarked that there
were more negroes than white men in Helena, and the support of
the colored population became a matter of serious consequence. The
difficulty was partially solved a few months later, when it was decided
to enlist negroes as soldiers, and several regiments of them were formed
for infantry and cavalry service. Thousands of able-bodied citizens of
African descent were enrolled in the army, and though they had their
defects they did credit to themselves, besides exasperating the rebels
to an unwonted degree. Many of the rebel officers subsequently declared
that their greatest mistake was that they did not arm their negroes
early in the war, and promise to give them their freedom at the end.

[Illustration: 331]



CHAPTER XLI. THE LOST ARMY IN CAMP AT HELENA--NEGROES UTILIZED--THE END.


|Our story draws to a close. We have brought Harry and Jack to the banks
of the great river, and there we will leave them. The army of General
Curtis had terminated a most arduous campaign. Since leaving Rolla in
February, six months before, it had marched more than six hundred miles,
much of the way through a thinly-settled and inhospitable region, with
bad roads, unbridged streams, and all the difficulties of locomotion in
a new country. It had fought several minor engagements and skirmishes,
and engaged in a battle of three days’ duration--that of Pea Ridge? out
of which it emerged victorious after combating with a force three times
as great as its own. It had performed some of the best marching on
record, and its men were ready to go through another campaign of the
same sort, only asking for a brief rest and for sufficient good food
to restore their accustomed strength. And the reader may be sure
that nothing was kept from them that was within the power of the
quartermasters to give, and the camps in and around Helena were a scene
of feasting and rejoicing, such as that quiet town on the Mississippi
had never before known.

Harry and Jack were quite as ready as any one else for a good rest, and
did not hang back when there was a prospect of something nice to eat.
As they strolled through the streets and along the levee of Helena they
built many castles in the air, and pondered upon what they had been
through since they left their homes a twelve-month before.

“Wonder how many miles we’ve traveled?” said Harry. “I leave out of
the calculation the railway and steamboat traveling, and only include
horseback riding and on foot.”

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” replied Jack. “Let’s figure it up as best we
can, and see how it comes out.”

They proceeded to figure it, but frankly acknowledged that the job was
a difficult one, on account of their numerous scouting expeditions, many
of which they could n’t remember at the moment. Altogether they thought
it must have been not far from a thousand miles up to the time they made
their last departure from Rolla. The army, as we have seen, had marched
six hundred miles from Rolla to Helena, and as the boys had made many
scouting and other expeditions around Pea Ridge, Forsyth and Batesville,
they thought it not unfair to add four hundred miles to the total of the
army’s movements, making two thousand miles altogether.

“Just think of it!” exclaimed Jack. “Two thousand miles! Why, that’s
two-thirds the distance, about, from New York to San Francisco. It’s a
big lot of traveling, especially when it’s been done on the quarter-deck
of a horse, and sometimes under very hard circumstances. We’ve been many
times in peril of our lives, passed through a great many privations,
been cold and wet and hungry, but for all that, here we are as healthy
as a couple of young tigers, ready for the next adventure that turns
up.”

“Yes, that’s so,” replied Harry; “and I suppose you don’t want to go
home just now, do you?”

“Not I,” was the ready response; “but we ‘ll see what our folks say
about it, and also what the general says.”

“We haven’t had any letters for a long time,” said Harry, “and
furthermore we have n’t sent any, for the very simple reason that the
mails could n’t get either to or from us. We’ve been buried in the
wilderness as much as though we had been in the middle of Africa.”

“Yes,” replied Jack; “and that reminds me of something I heard General
Vandever saying this morning. He had a newspaper which somebody brought
down on a steamboat from Memphis, and I heard him telling General
Washburne that the newspapers were full of articles about us, and there
was a great deal of anxiety concerning General Curtis and his army.”

“Then he laughed,” continued Jack, “and said they were speaking of us
as ‘The Lost Army.’ Nothing had been heard from us for such a long time
that they were afraid we’d been lost and could n’t get back again, or
perhaps the rebs had killed or captured us all.”

“Well, we have n’t been lost very much,” said Harry, with what may be
called an audible smile. “We’ve always known where we were, and whenever
the enemy attacked us he had reason to know that we knew. But, I say,
Jack, that gives me an idea.”

“What is that?”

“Why, if we ever write a story of our campaigns that ‘ll be a good
name for it. We ‘ll call it ‘The Lost Army,’ and it ‘ll be a first-rate
title.”

“That’s so,” Jack answered, “and it will be quite as truthful as many
titles of books I’ve seen. Very often when you read a book there’s very
little in the pages of the volume that seem to have been suggested by
what you find on the title-page.”

“Just so,” said Harry, “and a man will have to read clear through to
the last chapter before he finds out what The Lost Army was. And when
he does find out he ‘ll agree with us that we have n’t been going round
getting lost very much.”

We had the permission of the youths to give the account of their
experiences in the southwest, and have taken it, title and all. This is
why our story has been called as the reader has seen.

Helena continued to be a permanent military post from that time onward,
but the rebels did not attempt to disturb it, for the double reason that
their force of troops on the west of the Mississippi was small, and no
good could come from a raid on the town when they would not be able
to hold it more than a few hours, only until gun-boats could arrive to
drive them away. General Curtis was ordered to St. Louis to take command
of the Department of the Missouri, and operate against the rebels that
were making things somewhat lively in the neighborhood of Springfield
and Fayetteville. A portion of the troops that had composed The Lost
Army remained at Helena, but the greater part were ordered to join the
corps that made the second attack on Vicksburg and ultimately succeeded
in reducing that important stronghold of the rebellion.

Two or three weeks after the arrival of General Curtis at Helena word
was received of a party of rebels some twelve or fifteen miles away in
a northerly direction. Two companies of the Third Wisconsin Cavalry went
to look for the enemy, and were accompanied by our young friends.
They found the enemy, and very unexpectedly too, for they ran into an
ambuscade; but happily the aim of the rebel rifles was so bad that
only two or three men were injured. Then the unionists “went in,”
 and thrashed the rebels, compelling them to retreat after the loss
of several of their number. Harry and Jack had each a prisoner to his
credit, though it is proper to say that they were not captured in fair
fighting. The way of it was this:

After the fighting was over the youths dismounted to look over the
ground and pick up anything that might be of value or would indicate
to what company or regiment, if any, the men they had been engaged with
belonged. They had done this on several occasions to advantage, and in
the latter part of their campaigning it was a rule to which they adhered
whenever circumstances permitted.

While they were inspecting the scene of the skirmish, Harry came to a
large tree which proved on examination to be hollow. He remarked to Jack
that it was a good place for a man to hide in, to which Jack replied
that it would hold half a dozen or more if they did n’t mind a little
crowding.

“Who knows but that some of those fellows hid there when they found we
were getting the best of’em,” said Harry. “Suppose we investigate that
tree.”

Jack agreed to it, and they approached the tree, cocked their pistols
and pointed them up the hollow into the darkness.

“Come down out of that,” said Harry, in a commanding tone, “or we ‘ll
shoot daylight into you.”

There was no response, and Ilarry was about to turn away when Jack, more
in fun than with any expectation of finding anybody, called out:

“Comedown, I say. You ‘ll have just five seconds to come in.”

“I’m a-coming,” said a weak voice from the darkness, much to the
surprise of the boys, and a moment later down slipped a forlorn looking
“Butternut,” who was evidently greatly frightened.

“Surrender!” shouted Harry, “and tell the rest of’em to come right
away.”

“There’s only one more feller there,” said the prisoner, who surrendered
by throwing his hands in the air and dropping his shotgun on the
ground. The summons was renewed, and down came the “one more feller” and
surrendered after the same fashion; and this was the way their prisoners
were taken.

“Not quite as meritorious a performance as capturing them in open
fighting,” said Harry; “but then it’s like hooking a fish in the side
instead of catching him in the regular way by the mouth--he counts just
the same.”

During their stay at Helena Harry and Jack made themselves useful in
looking after the negroes that flocked there for protection, and they
were sometimes derisively mentioned by their comrades as managers of the
Freed-men’s Bureau. But they took the satire good-naturedly and went
on with their work, which consisted of aiding in the distribution of
rations, making lists of the negroes as fast as they came in, assigning
them to different parts of the camp, helping them to their free-papers,
drafting out all who were able to work, and sending them to the levee to
aid in unloading steamboats, or into the forests in the neighborhood of
Helena, where they were employed to cut wood. At every opportunity they
endeavored to instill into the negro-mind the idea that freedom did
n’t mean idleness, and insisted that the best way of making this
fact understood was to put the negro at work, even if work had to be
manufactured for him.

Consequently when there was nothing else to be done, Harry would take
the negroes who were under his orders and set them to throwing up a
fortification around the camp. When it was completed he pretended to
wish to change something about it, and thus the earth of which it was
composed was handled over several times in succession.

The last we saw of our young friends in the camp at Helena they were
looking on and listening one Sunday evening when the negroes were having
a religious meeting. Several negro preachers harangued the assemblage in
their quaint and forcible way. Prayers were offered, and three or four
hymns were sung with great fervor, all the congregation joining, and
fairly making the woods ring with their voices.

THE END.





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